prael

[prael]

champagne problems (ft. Karina) ; pt.1

fem reader x karina

14k words

(dumb dating advice, public sex, cam girl stuff, strap-ons, age difference, existential crisis, family issues, money talks/struggles, some mis/communication?, subby subby [:uppies:], cameos from multiple gg's [read for surprises], pt.2!!!! :] )

“You’re sure about this, right?” you ask Karina, clutching her arm as she walks you through the hotel. “I dunno, everything just looks so fancy.” 

“Doesn’t have to be here.” She muses, inhaling your hair and kissing a knuckle. “We could go somewhere else if you’d like.” 

“And you’d be willing to splurge money on me-” 

“Because I want to.” 

(It’s a wonderful exchange of communication: where the offers are tempting and impressions have been made. Nothing could possibly get complicated between the two of you before this interaction.

Spoiler alert: the plot goes sideways so quickly before you realize it.) 

–

A part of your brain starts to wonder: well, shit. how the fuck am I getting another dinner with someone I barely met? 

(Opportunities like these aren’t difficult to come by, especially for those struggling to make ends meet. 

If there was a pedigree in that regard - you, my friend, would be the cream of the crop.) 

–

Instead, let’s lay it out this way. 

–

You keep rolling your eyes at Jang Wonyoung, who continues to laugh at you while she lays out the overlooked proposition: 

“The dating app itself isn’t a bad idea. If you really stop thinking for a second, you’d be making money.” 

This isn’t the first time you’re hearing the money convos from her, and it certainly won’t be the last time you decide to listen either. 

“Money,” you say, eyeing your best friend who’s treating herself to the assorted makeup items in your box, tossing a color back having no care - which is how she usually is with most things in her life. “Don’t you think that’s related to sex-” 

“Sex work?” 

“Yeah, that.” 

“Sort of, but-” 

“Why the hell would I do that?” 

“You’re too close-minded,” Wonyoung tsks in correction. “Point being: you’re a sugar baby. That’s what it’s called. Honestly, it could be worse. Sex is only half the conversation; maybe the company is all they need. They take and treat you out for dinner and that’s it. Exclusivity isn’t even supposed to be an afterthought.” 

“You sound like you’ve done this before.” You tell her flatly. 

“Who, me?” Wonyoung snorts. “Pfft, of course not. But I’ve heard good things about it online.” She looks up at her fingers and shifts her gaze to you. “I’m not telling you to do it; but if you’re looking to get some paper in your pockets, the option’s there. You won’t know until you try.” 

There she goes - her underlying pretense which leads to more and more misfortune - as always, with a peaked brow and a soft sigh of defeat. Wonyoung pretends to let things go, but deep down she knows you’ll come back around to reconsider. 

Your phone buzzes on the bed and that changes your attention instantly. Among the messages between your tutoring gig to the rescinded application of the restaurant Wonyoung insisted not to work at, her face goes smug and she has a good guess as to who’s texting: 

attitude diva: shoot’s ready. where r u? 😔

attitude diva: you better not leave me alone with just my hands tonight 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🫠🫠

Wonyoung clicks her tongue, “Is that who I think it is?” 

You completely ignore her question and slip on your sweats and hoodie at the door. “Let me think about it, okay? Then I’ll see where I stand with the offer.” 

“If you really need it, then Yujin wouldn’t be on top of you in ten minutes-” 

Unfortunately, you don’t hear the rest of Wonyoung’s plea - nor bear the mind to wave her off into the sweet breeze of the night. 

–

They should’ve put this on the pamphlets, talk about it on the campus tours, hear it from a random professor on their way to class - the pursuits people fall into within the four-to-five years of obtaining their degree; using their education for bigger endeavours and typical jazz to reel in more students, implement numbers on graphs and personal destinies with some meaning behind them. Amongst the pack, you’re ambitious in one part - mostly lazy on the other, but willing to get by any means necessary without putting too much effort into the work required. Cutting corners, essentially. Because who wouldn’t? 

(Take Jang Wonyoung for example: 

Yes, she’s got the looks, fashion brands lining up to sign a deal with her when the time is right; even her brains is also a plus -  if she feels like it - she wants to waste her time paying no care  pleasing her peers with her smiles and light-hearted pick me demeanor (if she deems you worthy of getting to know her). 

In short: She’s the kind of girl you’d want to be close with from the get-go. Someone to stay by your side through thick and thin when the balance between work and classes are in disarray.) 

As for An Yujin:  

“Bet that feels amazing, hm?”

The sound ripped out from your lungs is all confirming. A meld of being tense and pliable: just how she wants you. 

“Shhh,” she murmurs into your sweat lined neck, “Lay back down for me, hun. I’ma fuck you good.” Her eyes are clearly blown out, lidded. Lips tiredly placed across your skin and the purple lighting on the ceiling above is all too hazy. “Lemme hit like it’s mine.” 

“You can because it’s yours,” you rasp, gasping from the slide of her silicon cock slipping inside, parting your walls. Yujin’s already made you cum from her fingers - that wasn’t even ten minutes upon arriving. Soon after, you returned the favor by letting her ride your face, making you chase that reward until she eventually lets go. Now, she’s getting off at the sound of your breath stuttering, dragging back and slapping the rubber at your swollen folds. She’s already ruined you once, now she wants to do it again. 

Yujin angles the phone up toward your chest, ensuring that your face isn’t in the picture. Thank god you made that agreement with her. Considering how word travels fast around the school and only very few people know about this secret side hustle. Her hair’s already a mess, running a hand through, biting her lip when she sees you wince at the dildo being halfway in - stomach clenching in reflex. “You look so good for me baby,” she says while gripping your breast, pinching a nipple. 

“Fuck- please.” You sigh, mindlessly moving your hips to meet her thrust in the middle, eliciting a small whine past your teeth. Yujin’s hand then goes to your waist, fingers pressing down and pulling you towards her more. “Yujin, oh my god-” 

“Yeah? You like that? Gonna be a good girl for me?” She asks, laughing at the expletive.

“Yes, yes-” 

Yujin sees through your pained expression, pressing her body down, lifting the arch in your back to go higher, dip her fingertips in the small divots right above your ass. “Hold still - just like that, there we go.” 

Her pace picks up in small increments, little by little for it to not hurt. Just the way you like them: slow and steady - get a rhythm going, let her earn the edge she desperately craves. 

(It’s a bit ironic, thinking about your words and Wonyoung’s insight, because all the evidence Wonyoung needs to see are the marks where she imagines them to be on you and prove herself right.) 

“Oh my god, oh my god-” 

“So fucking wet for me,” says Yujin, wickedly astonished, her hips now hitting yours in full force - spreading you open and pushing her rubber cock deep, “tight little thing you are, hm?” You could feel the clench in your stomach get uncomfortable, the pulsing between the legs rising in heat. 

She smiles at the lazy blinks, giggles at your bucking hiccups. “Baby, baby- please - keep pounding my pussy, hold my tit till you rip it off-” 

“Asking for so much - jesus-” 

You gasp, stray hand reaching for her neck. “Cause I know you wanna give it-” 

“A filthy slut is what you are, babe.” 

“You like it when I - ah - talk back- anyway.” 

Yujin slips the silicone out, lays the underside on your clit, rubbing against it harshly. She sees you grind your teeth and white-knuckle her wrist, chest heaving and every passing breath more wrecked than the last- 

“Honeybun,” she coos, finger-thumb combo to your chin, following her movements when she leans down for a kiss, slips her cock right back in - bottoms you out. The next move - reflexively, almost by instinct - rolling the hips into hers and making her stare at the body move, through the phone or with her own eyes. “Shit, look at you.” 

Your lips are tilted at an angle, airily humming a sort of ‘mhm’, the side of your head on the mattress and pussy gushing all over the rubber. Yujin hunches over - the phone with the perfect money shot: kissing your cheek as your entire body bobbles against hers, placing a few more marks on your neck, your chest, anywhere where the red can be seen. 

You swear when she raises her head over, you see her eyes shimmer a twinkle in adoration to the hot pink blush spread across. Hand caressing your cheek, cherishing the obscene picturesque look of her friend beneath - wanting to freeze this moment in time and capture it behind a screen. 

The last shot for the video was capped off with Yujin’s thumb caught between your lips, eye mask covering the upper half of your face for insurance, then she tosses the phone somewhere on the bed. Lifts the eye mask and smirks in approval. 

“That’s my good girl.” 

–

Despite the short sprees of intimacy, it’s a bit humbling to remember that the relationship between you and Yujin is- 

“Thanks for doing this with me again. People really liked the last one we did and requested for another.” She says to you, slapping the side of your thigh. 

-mostly transactional. 

You chuckle at Yujin, watching her plop down over your leg. “You texted me first, plus the half of my cut the first time was a lot more than I expected.” 

Yujin ruffles her hair, pulls out the purple dildo left on the bed, sets it next to another sitting on the nightstand. She examines them closely and brushes it aside to deal with later. The phone she tossed is back in her hand and quickly reviewing the footage from earlier, showing care for the quality and checking to see if anything stands out to her. 

“I liked the bandana mask from before,” you say, leaning to her side and feel her hand pat your face. “The eye cover was even better, removing one sense and elevating the others. What if we-” 

“Are you asking about the ski mask now?” Yujin laughs, putting the phone closer for a better look. “Hmm, now that you’ve mentioned it, I’ll think about the idea and let you know my thoughts. To be honest, I kinda want Wony to be the one to wear it.” 

“Is that why you got one in black and the other in pink?” 

“Hey,” says Yujin, kissing your shoulder, “She told me about your situation, by the way.” 

“Who? Wony?” 

“What do you mean who?” 

“Okay,” you’re sighing - not because of exhaustion, but because it wasn’t worth brushing aside - especially if one of your sources of income is aware of what's going on. “What did she say this time?” 

Yujin clicks off the phone, twirls it between her fingers. “I’m saying that you should give this a try and make some money for yourself, instead of relying solely on me for half the cut.” 

“Tempting, but I’ll pass.” 

“Why?” 

“Money is one of my issues,” you admit, knees to chin with a lowered gaze at Yujin. “I never liked the concept of putting my body on the internet for people to rub one out - just doesn’t sit right with me.” 

“You do realize there’s other ways to get cash, right?” 

No shit. You’re mouthing. 

“If you really sit and think about the options,” Yujin continues, holding the phone in passing before taking it back, feet on the floor and shuffling over to the bathroom. “A decision would’ve been made already. Besides, for your case-” and Wonyoung's words ring again, “it could be worse.” 

You rub your cheek, get your eyes full of a stretching Yujin and her swaying ass (since you have nothing else better to do) and take the advice: think. 

“Well don’t just be moping around on my bed,” you hear her say. Watch as she lets one of her arms slide up against the doorframe. An art piece forming in real time - the kind you would caricature instantly with your irises. “Come wash up with me.” 

–

Wonyoung and Yujin both tell you it could be worse; when that phrase is said, it’s (somewhat) comforting. Then you look at your bank statements and the hope is sucked right out:  

Rent was due at the end of the month. 

The utilities were just paid for, thanks to whatever was left from the recent loan you pulled, along with the decent tip money scrounged up to cover for other important necessities around the house. Lighting was also another debate since that could be solved with a few placed candles around the apartment for way less; the internet was already covered, and that one was a given. You purse your lips at the water bill; cheap and as it should be. You didn’t have to use it more than you liked or needed but- the fucking rent.

The fucking rent wasn’t something you could bullshit your way out of. 

Most of the wine sitting at the coffee table’s been ran through, watching the minute pass on the computer screen. A check of the phone on your lap, contemplating. Yunjin did tell you to not hesitate on asking- 

No. You knew your cousin didn’t have much to give on hand, and you couldn’t expect her to keep spewing out dollars upon dollars for every instance you catch yourself wanting- or needing, not when she herself needs it more. Not while she’s the one who gave you the heads up of how much grad school would cost, proving her point like she had said. You just can’t. It wasn’t right for doing that to her and being okay with it. 

The issue stands: you can’t pay rent let alone live in general. Your landlord’s been on your ass for last month’s payment as it is. 

So you lean your head back, sigh, pinch your temple on both sides, frustrated. Scratching your head and grinding teeth. There’s no easy solution to this, and you don’t know what to even do. 

You’ve been living like this for as long as you could remember, compartmentalizing. Focus on not letting one part of your life take over the other. School shouldn’t bleed into your social and work life. One bad exam grade doesn’t give you the luxury to sit in the corner of your room and panic. There was one thing - only, one thing to do: get better, improve from yesterday, and spare the emotions. Find a groove. Yunjin kept preaching to you through college: “find a groove, and stick with it.” 

A groove. Staring into the black void of your phone. If you can’t find a groove, then make one. 

“It could be worse.” 

You inhale, click your tongue, feel the rush of blood in your veins. Adrenaline pricks at your nerves at the slap-down motion of your laptop and swap of the phone, tapping the app store icon. The thought fills your mind somewhere along the lines of: ‘look, i don’t want to, i don’t need to’. Then again, you have to, because you never have enough of the money, and a second job - on top of being a full-time grad student - that alone still won’t be enough; it’ll never be enough. You have to. You’ve got to. Rent stays due once the sun goes down. 

A nail taps the screen on the rosy colored app, downloading. Once installed, you push past the idea of tossing your phone across the room and forget trying; go to the balcony and just get rid of it entirely. That’s just another expense to pay off, and you can’t afford the current one either. 

One sip of the wine, you swallow your ego and make the profile. 

–

Matches start spilling in like emails, and your phone’s receiving a disgusted look from you. 

The line was already drawn pushing 30 and above; plus the idea of talking to someone older than you was a big no no, even if it’s for a simple dinner. Most of the women you see are very unappealing. Most of the superficial profiles are either cookie cut with a short synopsis of their life and skeevy. Worst case scenario and all, it wasn’t a viable solution in terms of money. 

Disappointment flushes out the last bits of hope you had left, tears almost start coming out. 

(You’ve only had three relationships in your entire life - more or less serious to a degree. Two of them were in high school, and the recent one back in undergrad: Chaewon. She was a sweetheart, kind, and very understanding. Sometimes she could come off as arrogant, having brought up most things practically handed to her, but she was a good one, down to a ‘T’. Most of the blame falls on you; because of your high ceiling while Chaewon wanted to take it easy, and you couldn’t make ends meet, knowing that there was a lingering hold. Despite having all the boxes ticked off and encapsulated in a human being, despite the fact you loved her - earnestly, and truly - she wasn’t the one: Chaewon wasn’t the person you wanted to spend the rest of your years with.)

Giselle Uchinaga isn’t a strong pick either, big woop, you’re thinking to yourself here, distancing yourself from the screen, another new notification. It shouldn’t even come as a surprise. 

Like any of that mattered, right? A long term lover wasn’t what you signed up for on the app. 

You click the bolded name. Her profile comes up sparse as it was a few hours ago. With a description of her job: head prosecutor - attached with five photos, none of them were glamorous, but in a tailored blazer or dress. All of the photos exuded an importance, although - with severity. This was a woman who clearly knows what she wants and for her to attain it was all but guaranteed. In the scheme of levels, she’s leagues above a nobody like you. 

So you press the message icon. You expected nothing less: 

Aeri <3: fancy a nice outing with me? 

You: hi! You’re messaging back, brows creased white your thumbs have a twiddling mind of their own. i’d love to have dinner with you! 

Aeri <3: awesome! A few moments pass at the three dots next to her icon, the lump ballooning in your throat as you’re reading: how does this weekend sound? And before anything else, yes. you will be compensated at the end.

The air passes your teeth, tapping the edge of the screen. Heart thumping between your ears, above the ringing. You have the choice to say no, delete the app and convince yourself you never had a part in this debacle to begin with. Click on Yunjin’s contact info and call her. What could cover the cost of your pride anyway, that could suffice this? 

Too bad your mind’s already set on what to say before you message back: 

You: deal. tell me the details. <333

–

“A fucking sugar mommy?” 

Hunting her down on campus was one thing - Wonyoung dragging you to the library once she got the bombshell news in pure disbelief was definitely another: “Do you hear yourself?! A sugar mom-” 

“I know!” You’re shushing, looking over the cubicle. And it looks like some of the other students sitting close by seem to have noticed the spike in sound. “Look- nothing’s set in stone. I verbally agreed to go have dinner with her.” 

“Still,” adds Wonyoung, leaning back with a leg crossed, eyes dazed. “It’s you. Of all people, to actually take my advice and- girl you just lost your virginity a while back.” 

“Whoa, what the fuck does that mean?” 

“A vibrator or dildo doesn’t count, by the way.” 

“I was referring to Chaewon!” 

“The same Chaewon you split with three years ago. Case in point,” Wonyoung says. Bewilderment now transferred to you, greatly amused. “You really outdid yourself here.” 

“Only because I took your word.” 

“Yeah! But when the hell do you ever listen to me?” She retorts, palms on her chin and staring. “Well? Aren’t you gonna show me what she looks like?” 

“Didn’t really need to,” you say dryly, pulling your phone out. “Her and I aren’t exactly talking.” 

“Oh but she is,” Wonyoung replies, taking it. You glance from her face to Giselle’s profile, expression shifting to a slight frown. “She’s pretty, but I don’t know-” 

“Don’t know what?” 

“Well- I mean…” 

You tense, nick your head. “You did say, some women will pay for company. She also said there’s compensation for the dinner but that’s about it.” 

“Sounds good enough,” Wonyoung chuckles, scrolling down the exchange, stopping at a selfie you sent to prove that you were a legit human and not an ai: per her request you might add. “Any idea what you’re gonna wear when you see her?” 

“Maybe a simple cocktail piece. The restaurant she suggested is at a hotel. Probably nothing too crazy.” 

“Honey, I’ve seen your closet. Not a single cocktail dress in sight.” 

“Uh, the dark blue one. Where it stops at the shoulders.” 

Wonyoung’s face is written with shock. “The same dress you wore to senior prom? When you were seventeen?” 

“What’s wrong with it? I think it’s nice.”

Wonyoung then slaps her hand down on the table, gripping your wrist. With a look that makes your middle clench from embarrassment; the kind of look that entails a variety of her statements and the difference in priorities, the obvious gap between classes. “No offense, but you’re fucking gorgeous. I think you’d look dashing in a threaded burlap sack; but with that dress? No way. Not at- what was the name of the place again?” 

“The Astoria.” 

She then lets go of your arm in a slapping fashion - like she’s disgusted to touch you, a passerby looks down at the both of you. “The Astoria? My god. Fuck no. I’m not letting you step out of the apartment if you’re gonna wear that dress, especially if it looks like you just thrifted the damn piece.” 

Fair to her for calling you out, since she was right. No point in arguing. “It’s not like I have anything else to fall back on.” 

“I have a bunch of dresses I don’t use. I’ll lend you one.” 

“It won’t fit. I’m your height but your waist is more defined than mine.” 

“That’s true, so it’ll fit!” Wonyoung beams with hands on her hips. 

“Yujin can also be of help with her opinion.” You suggest at the thought of it, shrugging.

“Go ask her! We have a similar frame and she should have something for you to borrow.” 

You slouch on the comfy seat, uncomfortable. It wasn’t your style to ask for anything. “Is that fine? The dress I have should be fine-” 

“Believe me, it won’t. And Yujin adores you but also loves having fun even more. She’ll be hooked if you text her right now.” 

“I’ll take your word,” you remark while Wonyoung speeds to her best friend’s contact info, fingers moving at high speed. A millisecond passes before she smiles and puts the phone in your eyes. You can see the dry reply - quite predictable, too - since she’s busy working and not with you two: i’m down. have her come over later and we’ll see what works. 

“Odds are she hands you the black one.” Wonyoung tells you, mocha eyes shimmering, the muted lights from above enhancing the effect. “I bought her that a while back. It’s a bit tight at the hips but it makes the shoulders pop, let alone wrap around the neck. Oh- you’re gonna look so hot now that I’m imagining it.” 

“Hot is one thing,” you laugh, face flushed. “It’s just-” 

“Dinner, right.” She nods, texting. “A first impression on a date is always important. When is it happening?” 

You cringe at the word date, leaving an uneasy feeling in the chest. A twisted formation so perverse what romance is in today’s world. “Friday.” 

“Sick. I’ll grab the dress and head over to help. You’re gonna need my makeup too, if you’d like?” 

You blink at Wonyoung, heat rising on your face. You could’ve said no; you didn’t know how to. How to remind her that this was transnational, and there shouldn’t be any excitement towards this. Before you can even utter a word, Wonyoung clasps both your hands, grinning. 

“Ooooh you’re gonna have so much fun!” 

–

Friday comes around quickly, leaving you little to no time to prepare, but Wonyoung arrives exactly as she said. Right at 7:30 pm, smiling at the door with the dress in one arm and the makeup bag in the other. Waltzing in and flaunting her hair, dressed up as if she was the one going out. 

Hanging the makeup bag to her head. “How do you want to do this?” 

–

Now in your bedroom, last from the kitchen and bathroom down the hall. Wonyoung sets the bag on your bed before turning on the vanity and settling in on the seat. Pulling a pouch with the assorted products, in all name brands: the eyeshadow, blush, bronzer, eyeliner pencils. Chanel, MAC, Dior, YSL. 

“Are you excited?” Wonyoung asks cheerily, hair neatly done in a low, messy bun. “Hm?” 

“Not really.” The answer alone comes out easier, in truth. You’re not excited, clearly. You’re- “Terrified.” 

“Huh? Why?” 

“I don’t even know the woman.” You plop on your bed, sighing, looking at the dress then shying away since it’s haunting. “Her and I have only talked a bit. She’s way older with a status and rich and-” 

“And?” Wonyoung asks, swiveling to you. “You’ve met my sister and dad. Both equally important, not to mention- one’s a board chairman and the other’s a full time model.” 

“You see- that’s different, Wony. I’m not your dad’s sugar baby.” 

“No I know, though-” 

“I’m being serious.” You snap, nerves thin, as they have since you agreed to the date in the first place. Since you were running on fumes money wise as there was no other option but this. “Going out with a complete stranger for money? I can’t tell what’s gonna happen and I’m fucking scared.” 

“Right.” Wonyoung yields, sobering. All her humor soaked up in a second. “I’m sorry for being a total bitch.” 

You mumble an apology, steering your head away, embarrassed by the harsh tone. Wonyoung stands up and shuffles her way to you. Grabbing your shoulders, steeling a sharp look. “Do you want to call it off?” 

“What?” 

“Do you want to back out?” She repeats. “If you’re feeling uneasy, you can cancel it. There’s nothing wrong in doing so.” 

“I- I don’t,” you look Wonyoung in the eyes and down at the floor. It’s been a bit overdue for a cleaning day, but you’ve been caught up with other priorities that overshadowed a simple chore like that- 

“No. I can’t. I can’t do that.” 

“There’s always another way to make money. Why don’t you call-” 

“Call Yunjin and ask her,” you say dejectedly. “I’d rather sleep with Giselle than ask Yunjin for her help.” 

Wonyoung pulls a grin and stands tall with her hands up in surrender. “You did say it was just dinner, after all.” 

“Just dinner,” you’re sighing, relieved. That’s the truth. The only truth. If she expected more, it would’ve been brought up by now.

“Okay.” Wonyoung smiles, crossing her arms. “Let’s get you ready, then.” 

–

The uber - paid by Wonyoung - sends you off to the Astoria right at 9; just like Giselle said she’d be there. 

You wave off the driver as they roll away, tugging the coat tightly around you. Beneath the layer was the black dress, stopping right above the knees, still tight. Tighter than expected, but you’re reminded of the item’s true owner. You have always kept yourself in shape, aside from the hips and breasts are- defined, for a better word. At the ripe age of eighteen and the history of finding the correct bra size since then. 

Yujin and Wonyoung, both tall and slim, like couture models. Thus, the dress lent to you would be a more snug fit than you first hoped, stretching at the swell and lifting your breasts up a few inches than what you’re used to. A better description would be one of those mannequins on the window, and the thought clouds your mind once you step inside the pristine hotel, palming your stomach to relax the anxiety: owned. 

You’d rather plaster the marble floor with your earlier meal. 

A lady at the desk motions you to the restaurant once you ask. While walking away, you wonder if she can sense the regret wafting off your shoulder. Plus if she noticed, what does she think? This wouldn’t be the first time she saw a girl like you. Look the way you do, with cheap heels and expensive clothing, handed down from refined women. How old would they be? Are they younger? You can’t shake the feeling. Someone like you who’s young and resorting to this. 

One of the hostesses greets you with a smile. “Good evening, ma’am. Are you meeting with someone?” 

“Yes. I believe there’s a reservation?” You answer, rushed. “Giselle Uchinaga. Said to come at 9. Is she here already?” 

“Let me see.” Looking down at the iPad on the podium, scrolling down. Her brows furrow, then her gaze returns. “Ah, got it. I do see a Giselle Uchinaga on the list but she hasn’t checked in.” 

“Oh.” You breathe, ignoring the relief rushed down on your body. “Can- is it possible for me to wait for her at the table?” 

Her face goes sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I can’t get you seated until we have final confirmation with the person who made the reservation. Just to ensure no tables get mixed up or stolen.” 

“Ah. Er- so, do I just wait? Or leave?” 

“We have some seats open at our bar in the meantime,” the hostess tells you, hand directing you to the left. “I assume it’s only for a couple minutes.” 

You give a smile and say thanks, heading for the bar. Angled adjacent to the main tables. The appearance is like the hotel: opulent. Most of the counters are coated with a dark shade. Stools are golden to the ground, the cushions soft and velvet when you sit atop it. A woman with pretty features smiles once the bearings are in place. Thankfully, you aren’t the only one sitting at the bar. “Hi. Can I get you started with anything?” 

You pause for a second. Drinking wasn’t on the agenda tonight. Not to mention you’re a lightweight, and you didn’t want fluids in your system that could hinder the sensibilities, but- 

“Yeah, I’ll have an appletini, please?” 

She tells you right away and gets to business, mixing up the beverage with efficiency that leaves you impressed. A good distraction for where you are. Soon the martini gets placed in front of you; give a nod in acknowledgement, pinching the straw. “Y’know, I was a bartender too, for a time.” 

“You were?” 

You tweak your head. “Swapped over to waitressing, instead.” 

“Really?” The bartender’s eyes flick down to your dress, now curious. You play the blush off your face. “Nice date planned tonight?” 

“Um, well-” 

Suddenly, an older woman sitting a few chairs over calls the bartender’s attention. She gives you a look while stepping away. You glance over and sigh, preparing a sip of the martini. It goes down quickly, and you’re trying to keep a slow pace going. 

–

Unfortunately, you don’t. 

–

Nearly an hour passes; you’re still sitting at the bar, a second glass now next to the empty first one, and you’re woozily staring at the half-drunken bev. The bartender - Kang Seulgi, aka: your new friend - stands on the opposite side, washing a cup and drying it; a bit clichè for her taste and everything. 

“Should I call someone?” Seulgi asks, concerned. 

“I think my friend Irene would like you,” you tell her, sitting forward; the question doesn’t even register in your head. “She has black hair, a tad shorter-” holding a hand out and in waves above your head, “-plus she’s cute.” 

“I’m flattered,” she remarks. “Don’t remember asking for a matchmaker, so-” 

“A good amount of people don’t ask for a lot of things, but some are given to them regardless.” 

“That’s very honest of you.” 

“Hah,” you laugh and swivel in the chair. “My cousin did say I’m just a gloomy brat with a loud mouth.” 

“Is your cousin around the area? Are they able to pick you up?” 

“Nah,” you sigh. “She lives, like- two hours away. I live here for school.” 

“Okay, then what about your friend Irene? Can she pick you up?” 

“Irene’s studying or sleeping, either one of the two,” you answer, waving her off. A revelation crosses your mind, and you smirk. “I can set you up with her. Show her insta profile.” 

Seulgi’s shoulders drop and stares. “Sure- yeah, lemme see.” 

Your teeth show and you’re fishing through your coat, messily folded on the seat next to you. Pulling out your phone and scrolling down the texts. No message from Giselle, but that was anticipated, long after you convinced yourself about being stood up - which didn’t affect you that much. The loss of money crept your mind above anything else. It’s the reason why you haven’t gone home yet. 

“There,” you’re saying, now on instagram. “Her handle’s cute: renebaebae. You could shoot her a DM.” 

“She’s pretty,” Seulgi smiles, settling a wink. She darts a look up from the phone, slips into the professional demeanor again. “Hello, welcome. What can I get started for you?” 

A woman takes the seat over on the right. She’s set her coat off next to her with both sleeves rolled to the elbow. You notice the length of her forearms, stopping at the silver seiko, moving up to see the mixed wolf-bob cut she has going on. Every part of your body freezes when she takes notice - her brown eyes pool cold, curious. 

A whisky glass is set in front of her. It’s just you and her on this side of the bar. Seulgi is nowhere within eyeshot. 

“I’m sorry,” she starts, “Is something wrong?” 

“No.” You shug her off with another sip. Sadly, she doesn’t have the same regard. 

“You’re drunk, aren’t you.” 

“No.” You look back, holding the glass. “I’m not.” 

The woman huffs, glances down at the seat occupied by your coat, motioning a silent inquiry. You move the coat to the opposite seat and let her move into it. Her perfume is the first thing you catch: a cozy aroma calming to the nostrils, warm even. The shine of green in her watch reflects from the hazy lights above, sleek black heels and the unbuttoned wrists folded nicely. Like she’s comfortable in this environment - a palace riddled with wealth. She could probably sense the fraudulent appearance underneath your dress, the paper-thin expression on your face and clearly see through- 

“Were you on a date?” She asks again. 

“No.” Playing on the defensive, compounded with regret, and you wished the alcohol kicked in earlier. “What brings you here?” 

“Drinking.” She answers, downing the whisky with ease. Your eyes get full of the bob of her throat while her mouth airs out the burn of the aftertaste. “Also had a late shift, some last minute calls,” she tells you, lips tugged. 

“A meeting at the Astoria?” This might be a bigger deal than you thought. 

“Actually, it was a meeting at the J Medical Center followed by a small team dinner. A majority of my coworkers are stingy guys who stay out late and talk about hitting on the nurses so I ditched them to come here instead. 

“Medical- doctor?” 

“Neurosurgeon.” She supplies, soft smiled. “What’s your gig?” 

“Server,” you answer lazily, clearing your throat. “Plus I’m in uni. Grad program too.” 

“Cool. Must be going well, I hope.” 

You stare, tilt to your fist. “You don’t look like the neurosurgeon type.” 

“Says everyone else.” 

“Tell me your age.” You say, and her gaze shifts, enough to slice through yours in one swift motion, harshly. “Oh- I didn’t mean-” 

“You’re not lying when I asked if you were on a date?” She asks once more, and you grab the glass on reflex, turning away for another swig. You know what she meant and unsure to determine if it was genuine or she’s having fun mocking you. She turns her wrist over and presses the latch, taking off her watch, clutching the arm soon after and moving her hand, confessing: 

“Thirty.” The woman with a misleading appearance tells you, “Name’s Yu Jimin. Though, Karina is what they usually know me by on the nametag.” 

Seven years, huh. Good enough, I guess. Then you roll your name off to her. She repeats it, discovering how well it curls across someone else’s tongue, and you’d want to hear it more. “Lovely to meet you.” 

Seulgi swings by, taking the hint with another whisky and martini. You catch her look of reservation when offering - the expenses on the tab tallying up, but why should you care. After the shitshow you just went through, all stress and anxiety pent up, you don’t see any reason to contemplate; it’s a downward spiral as it is. 

So you keep plummeting: “I suggest a toast?” 

“It’s your third drink of the night.” 

“What about it?” 

“I need more than two whiskeys to deal me in.” 

“No, then.” 

“Have you even checked your tab tonight?” Karina exhales, making you wince. “Three appletinis, and a Long Island. Hell, they don’t cost that much, but that’s over a hundred, easy; especially in a place like this. You didn’t come to the Astoria just to get drunk here, did you?” 

Ah, and the condescending tone doesn’t make it any better. So the admission of guilt spills easy. “I- got invited.” 

“Who invited you?” 

“Someone that isn’t here.” 

“A date, then.” 

“No.” 

“So who gave you the invite? ‘

“A person.” 

“Person of your age? Guy? Girl? I don’t wanna assume too much.” 

You smirk bitterly and swirl the glass. “Not my age.” 

“Older, gotcha.” It’s enough to be a conclusive answer. “Let me get this right: it’s not a date, but we have you - an attractive graduate student - invited here by someone years older. Are they? Uh-” 

“A woman sent me the invite.” 

“Can I ask another thing?” 

“Keep ‘em coming.” 

Karina hesitates before her eyes go flat. “Why did you say yes?” 

“For the money.” There really wasn’t any other explanation than that. 

You could feel her gaze ooze over you, in judgement - probably in disgust as well; worse comes to worse, she could tear up the vulnerability and give her piece of mind. To your surprise, she sighs with a curse beneath her breath and rubs her cheek, raking fingers in her hair. “That’s too bad,” she tells you, glancing. Her sympathy leaves you in a slight shock. “I feel sorry for you.” 

“Y-you, it’s fine.” 

“She’s a bitch for hanging you dry, fuck her. It isn’t everyday women make those kinds of decisions. It’s even more insane they don’t put in the time to search for a proper lover and resort to girls like you, the kind who can’t take no for an answer.” 

“Love was never in the equation.”  

Her face frowns, balling a fist. “So it’s sex, then.” 

Your mouth drops. “Not sex. God, no.” 

“If not sex, now what?” 

“Just the presence,” you say, posturing. “Dinner is the common outlier. They pay and that’s it. It’s what everyone’s been talking about on social media these days.” 

“Spoken like true dumbasses. What good does a women get in being a sugar mommy and take advantage of a younger woman who looks like you for a simple fucking dinner? Where’s the connection?” 

Karina’s words mince your heart into shreds. All of the things she’s saying is the truth you’ve been blindly denying for the past week and a half, and you’re beating yourself down for thinking you could be at their level; to have full pride in their wallets, like Wonyoung. 

“Did you drive here?” Karina asks, snapping you out of your trance. 

“I, uh- huh?” 

She then stands up, shrugging on her coat. It dawns once the realization sets in that she’s freaking leaving. “Did you drive here?” 

“No, I got an uber.” 

Karina waves a hand up, motioning Seulgi to come back. She turns her head away to whisper a request - the tab, you assume, before turning around. “What time was the date?” 

“Nine.” You deadpan. 

Her lips pull outward. “Not sugarcoating it or anything, but you got stood up.” 

“Yeah,” you shrug. It’s better when she says it like it is. 

Karina adjusts the watch back on her wrist, fixing her disheveled hair, but with an intent. Enticing. Seulgi keeps her gaze as she hands a red, thin booklet, and Karina whips out her wallet. You stare down at the coaster, shying away from transactions. 

“This girl is a waste of your time,” says Karina, giving Seulgi a nod as she swivels to the computer behind her. 

“Among other things,” you relent. 

“My advice is to delete the- app?” She adds on, putting on her glasses with an arched brow. You nod. “Right, the app. I’m not a fan of how it sounds already.” 

“You’re not wrong.” 

Karina steps away, and you’ve got your tongue in cheek. 

Nothing else is said between you too, besides a gentle chin dip of acknowledgement. One heel turn and you focus on her back, sliding away between the tables until she eventually exits. Soon, you’re facing Seulgi again, flinching when she’s holding the same red booklet to you. “Did- am I? Did she-” 

“Mhm,” nods Seulgi, smirking. 

You take the bill away from her hands, letting the red cover’s weathered texture graze your fingertips. Once you open it, the price isn’t the first thing you see, but the cute stack of cash; a couple hundred dollars. Shit- it might be even more. 

Aside from the numbers written on the tip line and the total above it, there’s a note in the blank space below with the penmanship so elegant it’s a mere tidbit of high intelligence: 

“Something for you to help with grad school, although not by much. And for answering most of my questions without getting drunk. 

- Karina.” 

“Gave me a good tip, too. Covering you and her,” Seulgi says. “I think you scored big without even trying.” 

You keep the booklet open, feeling the gentle fuzz off the cash, bewildered. 

–

You’re fiddling with the folded wad of cash, totaling up to six hundred. Six. Hundred. 

A thoughtful gesture by a stranger, and yet you thought being stood up was the craziest part- 

In the purse was the receipt, undecided whether to toss the slip of paper out. If it wasn’t for Karina’s company, her willingness to stay. You would have to call her eventually, in thanks, give back the money, then ask why you - of all people, would even hand that amount of cash to a poor human being; wallowing away in drinks at a bar. It literally makes no fucking sense- 

The buzz of your phone catches you off guard, turning over a shoulder to fish it out of your bag. Wonyoung’s smile appears on the screen, hesitating for a second before answering. “Hi, Wony.” 

“Heyyy,��� she answers, all sing-song-like. “I’m with Yujinie right now and you’re on speaker. Go say hi.” 

“Hi, Yujin.” 

“Yo,” Yujin says back. Wonyoung’s voice then returns. “How’d it go?” 

“Well, uh-” you look through your purse, the wad of cash in your fingers, slightly shaking. “Okay, I guess.” 

“Take it that Giselle wasn’t as terrifying as you thought?” Wonyoung chimes optimistically. 

“She- I, she never came through.” 

“HUH?!” You cringe away from your phone. “She never came through?! What do you mean??” 

“Left me hanging. She left me hanging.” 

“Aw, babe. I- I don’t even know what to say…” 

“You’re good, don’t worry.” 

“So we did all of this for nothing?” Yujin asks, shocked. “You mean to tell me I gave you my dress and you went to one of the most prestigious hotels in the entire city and you got done dirty? Fucking wild.” You could hear Wonyoung tap Yujin to settle down but you huff in relent, very much appalled on your own part. 

“Wasn’t for nothing,” you mumble as the line goes silent. 

“Hm? Did you say something, love?” Wonyoung asks again.

“Um- nothing. It wasn’t for nothing,” you repeat. “But I met someone there, and she- 

“She what?”

Telling the tale alone wouldn’t make much sense, but you confess either way in little faith. “I got six hundred dollars from her.” 

You’re left hanging on the call. Picturing them trying to put it together. Until- Yujin bursts out laughing, “Please don’t tell me you made a scene at the restaurant to get that kind of cash-” 

“Yujin!” Wonyoung butts in. 

“I’m just saying! A rich, older woman gives our girl here, money- for free, and not be interested?” Yujin reasons, a valid take all three of you might agree on. 

“Yujin, you-” the stutter dribbles along your teeth while you roll your eyes. “We just talked. That’s it. Nothing happened and plus, she isn’t old.” 

“So, is she cute, though?” You hear Wonyoung ask. 

The image of Karina’s side profile, the unbuttoned shirt, her toned forearms, and that syrupy-sweet tone in tandem with her tongue pops up in your head. “Yes.” 

“Why did she give you cash, then? If you’re saying nothing happened between you two?” Yujin then asks again. 

“It doesn’t make sense to me, either,” you tell Yujin, setting the stack of cash on the table. “My guess is that she was sympathetic to my situation.” 

“Sympathetic?” And Yujin's chortle sounds off on the phone. “You really think so?” 

“She asked me why I was at the bar. Didn’t like the whole summary of it. Uneasy, bothered.” 

“Sounds to me like a real catch,” Wonyoung then says, imagining the smile on her lips; even with the good-willed act, to say that Karina was a blessing out of thin air would be an understatement. You could sense the intensity to her being - a kindness going above natural decency. You still can’t determine if she would do it for someone other than you.

(It still leaves your head wondering: why me? You didn’t do jack shit to get anything like that at all.) 

“Maybe there’s more to it than what’s shared,” Yujin concedes bluntly. “Doesn’t sit right with me why she would be so nice to you.” 

Wonyoung coos in agreement. “What’s the verdict, then?” 

“I’m not sure. If it wasn’t for that, I would’ve said something by now.” 

“My next move would be to ask her why.” Wonyoung suggests, and Yujin makes a sound in disgust, laughing soon after. “There’s nothing bad about being curious.” 

You get the receipt out of the purse and the stack of cash set beside it, examining both pieces of the event to get some theories going. Karina’s name written in cursive is all you see. 

“I wish that weren’t the case,” you mumble, fiddling the pieces of paper. 

–

Curse the optics, for making you think the way you do.

Shamelessly doom scrolling on the app (which you should’ve deleted after the abysmal ‘date’) before you see the unnamed contact and click on the texts to Karina. The blue bubbles on the bottom right fill your eyes, and you should’ve thrown your phone off the freaking balcony earlier: hi! sorry to bother. you remember me, right? from the bar earlier? 

hey. Karina messages right away, just as you expected at this hour. ofc i remember you. how could i not? 

nice. You reply back, thumbs frozen mid text. i think you left something of yours, with me 

it was on purpose

i’m really sorry. as much as i appreciate the kind gesture. i can’t accept this amount of cash 

what makes you say that? 

you’re a complete stranger and the money is a lot

i’d prefer to give it back 

you don’t have to- Karina types before you could even double down on the offer. i just did what i thought was right 

And not even a second later: is it okay if i call you? 

You stare at the lone message, stumped. Saying no would be playing it safe - pass on the chance of hearing her voice not long after she’s given you divine kindness. Doesn’t change the fact, however: she gave you a lot of freaking money. Having a conversation regarding the matter would be the next best course of action. 

You’ll bite at the proposition: go for it. 

–

By fine timing, you’re quick to switch over to the phone app and call the contact, letting the line simmer for a second before it picks up. “Uhm, he- hello?” 

“Hi.” Karina answers on the other end, deep and monotone. The girl had been asleep - possibly waking up just for you. “Do you know what time it is right now?” 

“No- I know. I just-” 

“-wanted to talk?” 

“For one part, yes.” Your ear hears the gentle rustle of the sheets in the background. “Why won’t you let me repay the favor?” 

“What’s the reason for it? It was completely my choice.” 

“I want to. I just- can’t.” You breathe. “Even if I could, I’m not exactly liquid with my funds-” 

“I didn’t give you the cash because I assumed you would owe me; and if I’m being truthful, I didn’t think I’d ever cross paths with you again. Consider me being nice.” 

“I can’t accept this,” you repeat. “Though I admire the thought. This is your six hundred dollars which you worked for-” 

“I can make that amount within a few hours.” Karina replies back. “It’s nothing.” 

“I’m not saying you can’t, but-” you pitifully look up to the ceiling, “Look, as much as I appreciate it. I just can’t.” 

The line goes quiet, then: “Do you ever take kindness from others?” 

“What?” 

“From the gist of it, you don’t like it when people do favors for your behalf.” 

This woman. “You- I, what do you mean?” 

“Forget it.” Karina sighs, definitely pressed. “It’s not like I can make you keep something you don’t want.” 

Now it’s back to square one: “Would you let me give you back the cash?” 

“You could either do that, or just use it for a good cause. Maybe shred the money if it makes you feel better-” 

“God, no.” You say, petrified. “I can just return it.” 

Karina’s end goes silent again. Your toes curl against the hardwood floor beneath and you have this overbearing sensation on your head, waiting for the final answer to be said. And then- 

“Let’s backtrack. Why don’t we discuss this over lunch?”” 

“Lunch?” 

“Tomorrow at 3. Lunch.” Karina repeats again. “Is that okay with you?” 

“Well, I- uh-” 

“If it makes it easier then you can mail it to me. Whatever works best.” 

“Did you just ask me out?” 

Her laugh curls in your ear canal, cracking along the spores in the speakers. Like it’s intentional, deliberate. “I mean, if that’s alright with you.” 

You think back to meeting Karina at the bar, beneath the ambient honey lights. How she gave you her utmost attention while speaking, the way her cold gaze shifted to a more gentle comforting one when she found out why you were down. When you kept your eyes on her as she left, after waiting to be noticed for so long. The agreement passes your lips so fast you barely think twice about it: “Okay. We can have lunch. I’ll have lunch- with you.” 

“Awesome,” and you swear you can picture the smile on her face. “I’ll message you beforehand?” 

“Yep.” 

“Gotcha. See you soon.” 

“Goodnight,” you mumble, and your phone hits the floor once she hangs up. There isn’t much time to process, speed-dialing Wonyoung’s phone number. 

She sounds annoyed, not to mention a gruff the first few seconds of answering. You’re certain her and Yujin were fucking. “What- what the hell do you want now?!” 

“This is more important. I need to borrow another dress from one of you two.” 

–

Forty-five minutes prior, Karina sends a text: gonna need a raincheck on that lunch. i got paged.

You, with your back straight away from the chair, in the middle of fixing your lashes, you look confused at the phone: paged? what the hell happened? 

one of the fucking doctors in my department suffered a freak accident so i had to step in for his shift 

As if today couldn’t be any shitter already, some fucking life i have, hm? 

im sorry to hear that, you reply, with the most forced, sad faced text you could ever pull from your ass: :( 

Like that ever did much to stomach the disappointment rising within, feeling sympathetic. However, that’s not your style as you type. do you actually have to cancel today then? ://

yes. technically, Karina says. its just for lunch. tho i can move it back to dinner 

you’d reckon you’ll be out by then? 

best bet i’ll be off by 8. if you’d want i can swing by around 9 so there’s more time for u in getting ready and all 

You’re pinching your neck, leaning down on your thumb. 

deal :) 

great, and it’s a done deal for Karina’s part alright: see u at 9. 

–

You flinch at the knock on wood when it’s heard, turning back to see the clock: ten past nine. You’re also not a picky person for time, so it isn’t anything to lull over about. 

“Just a second!” You’re yelling down the hallway, glossing over a final check of your appearance. Keeping it mellow with the velvet red dress Yujin loaned you (god bless her, seriously). Like the black one prior: it’s short but fitted, with the neckline right past your upper chest. Even the lipstick’s a matching shade, in red. Wonyoung always said that was one of the few colors you stood out in. 

A quick touch up on the hair at the entryway, and you’re toeing the black pumps. Here’s the moment of truth: opening the door after calming the nerves. 

Karina stands on the other end, hand pocketing in her slacks and the other with a small bundle of roses she promptly extends out as an offering. You cradle them and look her in the eye, seeing her gaze traverse from head to toe. Then in reverse. “Hi,” she greets, and you’re already forgetting the anxiety. 

“Hi,” you say back, sheepish. “Very thoughtful of you. Bonus points for the construction paper.” 

Karina grins in acknowledgement, and you notice the flush of red peeking through the sides of her ears. You take it upon yourself to set the bouquet down to the nearby table behind, biting down the laugh. 

She sees you come back at the door, open-handed. “Ready?” 

“Please,” you reply, taking her arm and wrapping around it, amazed with the mannerism. “Lead the way.” 

–

“Now that we’re here,” Karina starts, menu flat to the table, face motionless and grave. “Tell me about the deal.” 

“What?” You snap your gaze back from the crystalized light strips. The diner she took you to was a little less fancy compared to the Astoria. 

(Emphasis on the less.) 

“We’re not just eating good food,” Karina prods, “Part of this was for us to get talking. In a more proper setting.” 

You huff. “Did I mention your car? I mean, with that price, I swear that’s more worth than my-” 

“Hey,” she stops you. It’s got the same effect as being slapped in the face. “You want to say something. I can tell. Go ahead, say what you want to say. Cut the bull.” 

“Alright,” and props to her for helping you fall back into the mindset - compartmentalizing what matters most: “Why’d you give me the six hundred dollars?” 

“Because I wanted to. You looked like you needed it.” 

“Yeah, but-” you slouch your shoulders with a small pout, “-why? Did you actually feel bad about my predicament?” 

“A bit.” 

“Then why pity me?” You ask, voice solemn. 

“I didn’t.” 

“If you say you didn’t then what is it?” 

“I used to be like you at one point. I understood.” 

“I’m not following.” 

“Dead end job, struggling to make ends meet, bottom of the barrel methods to get cash. Everyone’s who on the track to grad school; regardless if it’s law, medical, public work, the fucking circus- they’ve all come to a point where they realize how really fucking hard it is to get by.” 

You pinch the table cloth from beneath, blinking. “You showed empathy to me?” 

“Essentially,” is what Karina agrees on, leaning back all smug. Your eyes wander in thought. “I thought it’d be pretty straightforward for your sake.” 

“Giving a random person like me hundreds of dollars within an hour isn't as common as you think. Pardon my interpretation.” 

“Would it make you feel better,” she begins, “to give the money back?” 

“Oh, yes.” You answer easily. 

“Why don’t we switch things up?” Popping up another icebreaker in no time flat. “What’s your major?” 

“Karina, don’t-” 

Her hand reaches for yours. All you see is brown eyes in your field of vision. “What are you studying in?” 

You hold your breath. Falling into Karina’s charms wasn’t the plan; Yunjin would have your head if she knew Karina was taking it. But fuck she’s making it extremely difficult, nodding as you share: “I’m working towards to get my master’s in Psychology, and using that to help with kids.” 

“Working well with kids, huh.” 

“It’s cool,” you smile, softening up. “I had a stint in a school district where I worked with kindergarteners and I loved it. Kids are- easier to handle in comparison to people my age.” 

“Wait- hang on, you lost me for a second. Explain.” 

“They’re not complicated in any way,” you say. “Expectations are low, nothing much besides asking for more playtime or water and food. And they’re easy to get along with. They don’t talk much unless they want to and they aren’t super judgemental, so it’s nice.” You hit all the marks, and Karina’s lips are parted with a quirked brow from the facts.

“Amazing you see them like that,” she tells you, thumb skimming your knuckles. “Doesn’t sound too bad coming from you.” Your heart stutters in place and it feels like electricity coursing over your skin. “Very comforting.” 

“What makes you say that? Are you speaking from past experiences?” 

“I’m more in between one and the other. But it’d be cool to have that luxury,” replies Karina.

“You got siblings?” 

“I do. A sister.” 

“Wow.” That’s a new one. 

“Doesn’t seem like it, yeah?” she laughs, “Even though it is. Anyone ever mentioned you’re hilarious?” Karina’s eyeline peaks as you’re chuckling, in moderation. “Are you the same?” 

“Unfortunately I’m an only child,” you answer. Usually you’d stave off expanding on this - the typical turnabout tale of your upbringing, but Karina’s presence robs any kind of reticence whatsoever. “Both of my parents weren’t around that much so my aunt and cousin have been taking care of me since.” 

“Aw,” Karina laces her fingers into yours and clings at the minor pull. “Forget I asked.” 

“Oh- you’re fine,” you awkwardly play it off. “Besides, it was a long time ago. That doesn’t hurt me as much.” 

“Can I ask you another question?” 

“About the situation or more insight about my life?” 

Karina’s mouth quirks at the corner. You study the gaze more with the discovered beauty mark underneath. “Why not ask for their help? Let alone tell them about your problem?” 

“It’s bad enough for me to take money from them. I can’t afford to.” 

“Even in a dire situation like yours?” 

“They would’ve made the effort. I’d just turn them down.” 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she sighs, and you flutter your lashes. Getting the menu from the table, you open it right where Karina’s eyes float over the top. 

“My stomach’s empty and I don’t wanna get kicked out for hogging the table.” You jokingly grumble. “We should eat.” 

–

Commiserations to the Astoria, because the pasta and wine combo outmatches the appletini’s by a landslide. 

You’re back in the car; Karina’s motions are flawless - the way she uses the bottom of her palm against the wheel at every turn, her fingers curling the wheel on long straights. You want to feel the warmth of it gliding your skin. 

Seoul is glamorous, just that it’s never not busy. 

“The nice car is one thing,” you breathe, a little tense on the handle. “It’s more of the driver, if anything.” 

“Do you drive around here?” Karina grits, but she knows you’re pulling her leg

“I thrive with the bus and subway.” 

“Thought so,” she tuts, “My advice to you, it’s better to be a dick at the wheel than dead. Or be in traffic for more than three hours. Take my word for it, is the absolute fucking worst.” 

Despite the sarcastic complaint, Karina seems to take your words to heart. Prolonging this outing for as long as she could, as you’re gazing out the window of all the passing streetlights which lead back to your apartment. You also think about asking to stop by a convenience store, maybe sit at a playground, stop the car somewhere that isn’t my house- just don’t let this end. Her car is a haven where you don’t want to leave. 

Her voice also calls back to you, “Hey, you dozing off on me?” 

“No, I wasn’t,” you shake your head. 

Karina cards a few locks of your hair off the gearshift, gaze soft. “Heh, okay. Just making sure.” 

She rolls into an open spot at the front; you’re clinging to the side of your seat, bending leather. You’re also paying no attention to her parallel parking (deliberate as she is). Karina’s open arm - all consuming, in her car, the purr of the engine rumbling softly. The proximity is too much. You can’t inhale without her being so freaking close. 

Her right arm is still open, and she’s noticed. Eyes faded, mixed in the dark. “Thanks for- letting me do this,” she says hesitantly. “It turned out to be pretty fun.” 

“Yeah, same here.” 

You see her lips quirk. “Still gonna try giving the money back to me?” That alone makes you tense, clutching for your handbag, but Karina grabs your wrist, rests it on your thigh. “Look,” and she laughs, “It’s- I- I was just messing with you. I don’t need it, nor expect you to-” 

“Karina, please-” 

“I already told you,” she interrupts. “I don’t want the money back.” Her lip twitches again, towards a grin, and very wicked. “If I’m being honest, you can offer something more valuable.” 

You shake your head in denial, but it’s futile. The more you do it starts to make you think otherwise. “I should. You shouldn’t- I can’t. You’re way too thoughtful to even think of me-” 

Why? Why? This should be nipped in the bud - right here and now. But here is Karina: thumb to your chin, eyes leveled, melting to her touch. 

“Am I not thoughtful enough?” She asks with a hushed tone, but you’re frozen to even listen. Your body moves on its own, mouth open to proffer, clasping her hand on your cheek, and she meets in the middle - your bleak plea down her throat. 

Karina’s whole being intensifies as she kisses you. Hand now deep into your hair while the other holds your thigh. Your body feels tingly - like little needles pricking your insides, growing with every second your lips are on hers. It’s been so long since you’ve felt like this, and even Wonyoung would agree. A welcoming tongue, against and so willing- so eager to pry you apart. 

The rush consumes you, so much that you try to shift over to the driver's seat, but Karina stops your motions, pushing. She breaks the lip lock to get them on your neck, grab a more salivating taste through your skin, smiling at the passing sigh from your mouth. You tense a lot when she’s nipping- and sucking the sensitive pulse point. 

“Hmm,’ she hums, grinning as she moves her way up. “A little forward, are we sweetie?” 

It’s a full whiplash coming from sharp words cutting her mouth. Karina’s barely laid a finger and you’re fucking desperate. So she doubles down at the opening, hand well pressed against your groin you’re grinding on the jagged palm. God forbid if she let you touch yourself, you’d be off the edge, but you’re also thinking she wouldn’t do such a thing. 

Karina’s tongue laves your throat, alternating between the sucks and nibbles she continues to please. Her fingers pull gently in your hair - a marionette in her own right. Slowly adjusting her hand to your slow grinding, experimenting and exploring. Doing everything in her power to not touch you. And it’s about to cut the coil within you - at your legs. The friction between your hips, a measly little dance curated by her, waiting for the right moment to swallow you up. 

And when she pulls the swell of your lower lip, it rips a whine within you. “M-more, please-” 

“What do you need? Tell me where,” she says, tugging the endline of your dress, another tease. Her hand slides up the inside of your thigh. “You’re so good for me, baby. You want it here?” 

“Almost, fucking-” 

“Guide me,” instructs Karina, consumed by your needy eyes, voidless as they’ll ever be; and you’re despising every second into the madness, how she keeps her gaze trained, it won’t be enough till she has all of you.

To hell with the suspense, taking Karina’s fingers and slipping it beneath your panties, forcing you to spread wide. Wider. You were so afraid she’ll just leave you to your own devices, so high in the position of power, she’s caught off guard to the point she just groans and kisses you harshly, pinching your clit in the process. 

“There she is,” she rasps, loving this new version of you. Her fingers electric across your skin sends your head back. Craving for more force- more friction, and she takes, in awe and pure delight. “You’ve been waiting for me to do something about this-” 

“Fucking right you are-” 

“You need more- because you can’t cum just from this, no way.” Karina smiles, voice buried in your cheek. Her thumb pinches your clit as her two fingers glide along the leaking slit, and it’s fucking amazing. You could almost feel it, the taste alone worth the torture- 

She positions her fingers over your clit soon after. The first circular motion is slow, in measurement. Her forehead against yours and eyes wide open. She’s willing to learn what takes you to the brink, and you know well enough that it isn’t this- not yet. Your hand is quick to grab hers and you rut your hips deep to where she can bend the digits. 

“There- fuck, I like it there. A little fast-” you sputter, losing your head. “Keep, keep-” 

Karina siphons the remaining air, biting down on the words with another kiss. Her fingers increase in pace, holding the butt of her palm to your clit when she slips one inside, stretching little by little. You grind down, get it deep. Hell- you’re mimicking a thrust for the fun of it. You’d wish she’d just throw you to the backseat and fuck you with more than just her hands. 

A hot thought as that might be, your cunt clenches around her hand. She exclaims over your yell, holding your head close. 

“You’re a needy one when it matters,” hisses Karina, getting her fingers inside where you want them to be. “Are you always like this with other girls?” 

The pressure in your stomach is familiar. You’re chasing it- a full sobbing mess while Karina’s head is against your collarbone, mumbling listless things. You’re fucking amazing, honey. Beautiful. So lovely for me. Jesus- just like this for me? 

“You’re so good,” she adds, amidst the stream of endless praise. “My lovely girl. So perfect.” She makes you lose it. That smothering heat, washing all sense away. You’re shaking in Karina’s hands, holding her shoulder as you ride out the orgasm, kissing sloppily and slowing her embedded fingers. 

When you’ve calmed down, you gaze down to see the glossy strings on her digits. You’re even sighing in relief at the sight of her cleaning them off, but you wanted more. Even before you could think where to strike next - hands quick to her belt, set aside with her lips in interruption. 

“Please,” you plead, unfazed with how much you’ve said it up till this point. “Let me- make you feel good. I want-” 

Karina clutches your hair and pulls you for another kiss, enough to slide the words back down your mouth. It’s all mush in your brain. Your body pliant- 

“Not now,” she says, holding herself firm. “Promise. I’ll let you make it up to me next time.” 

“Next?” 

“You heard me,” she laughs, thumb to your cheekbone. “Besides, it’s late. Rest is important for you.” 

“Yeah,” you blink. “Right. Okay.” 

Karina catches your lips, then pecks your button nose, leaning to open the door. She watches as you shimmy out with an unsure step; see her wave from the window at the foyer. Once she drives off and you’re inside, you rush to the door and try your best to ease the swell building in your chest. 

You’re grabbing anything within reach: the door, the wall, kicking your shoes off and staggering your way to the couch. Every move is all routine at this point; seeing the lights, but still can’t think past the cozy warmth in your mind. A short second to contemplate, and you’re giggling. 

Relief. Relaxation. Whatever you’d like to call it. All you can remember is the grip of Karina’s hands - the taste of her lips, how her perfume smelled. Everything about her now is worth value - valuable enough you want to keep. 

“Next time,” you mutter. It’s stupid and giddy. “Can’t believe she said that.” 

The buzz of your phone vibrates behind you and you grab it instantly. Your face suddenly becomes warm again at Karina’s text, reading: goodnight. Typing up a response, another ping from your checking account gets your attention. 

to help you w classes, the message reads. Next to it was an amount: five thousand dollars. 

(Yes, five with an ‘f’. You can put the zeros together easily.) 

Your hand trembles, back flush with the door and sinking to the floor. You can’t stop blinking - even with the facts settling in- 

That night, when you crossed paths. Karina felt sympathetic once she learned why you were at the bar. Saying Giselle wasn’t the right person- faintly implying you deserve better. The money was an act of goodwill, in kindness. 

“To help you,” she had said earlier. “I don’t want you to pity or refuse me in doing so.” 

The impression alone might have been enough - to convince yourself that Giselle had simply been one-upped. 

–

Karina stops by your place next week. In far more casual attire this time around. 

Then the second. On a Saturday morning at the farmer’s market because why not? 

The third and fourth times were on alternating days - despite being between fifteen to thirty minutes on her scheduled breaks (plus you’re ignoring her trek to and from the hospital, which you’ll applaud the effort). 

Frequency increases, much to the point where she’s stopping at your doorstep every day she can. 

When she leaves you breathless with a parting kiss on the sidewalk, and rolling away not long after. You can’t help but think. It’s too nice- too easy. Her lasting tinge of her lips makes you crave it, and her- 

(There might not be much to read into at all.) 

–

You’ve been in this position before: sprawled on the bed, the room dimmed in muted lights, filled with the mix of smacking skin and heaving pants. 

The sheets crumple at your grasp underneath you, sitting yourself up as best you could, gyrating your hips to match the pace of Karina’s fingers inside your cunt. She then buries her other hand in your locks, pulling you in for a kiss that keeps taking. For a second, then it’s your parted mouths and quick breaths. It’s sweet, grounded. 

The tightening in your stomach starts to weigh down deep, falling back on the bed; the pressure overshadows Karina’s presence, but she’s here to go along with what your body’s showing her. Soon her arm slithers behind your back, lifting you, cupping your cunt while you feel her mouth over your already-marked-up chest. 

“One more,” she breathes, in a ragged voice. “You can give me one more, sweetheart.” 

She’s chasing that high you gave from her sitting on your face, seeing her eyes crinkled and posture buckle, grinding her pussy lips all over your mouth. Tongue splitting her open until she’s lost all feeling in her lower half. In the end, you learn that Karina wants things done her way - resulting in two orgasms back to back: one when you’re bent over on all fours with a strawberry-shaded ass and the other just now flipped over your back. 

Not even a chance to let you breathe, mind you. But you’re relishing in it; you still are, in all the ways that matter to her. 

You feel her fingers slide in your slit as you’re still sensitive, shimmying the way down till she’s at a stable pace - until she gets rough and brings you back to the edge once again. A divide and conquer with a hand at your cunt, the other at your tit, then her lips capturing yours. Your brain’s all foggy you don’t realize her burying nose at your clit, lapping up what remained from the earlier high. 

“I fucking adore you,” she mumbles, barely. Hand to your hip and forcing you to arch at the suction. You swear, and that fucking mouth- 

“You’re amazing,” Karina praises, and it sends a chain reaction to your nerves. The affection curdling in your entire being. She doesn’t let up in fucking you, mouth and fingers working in their verison of holy matrimony, and soon you’re letting go. 

At this point you’re fucking whimpering - hips bucking and twitching along with the rest of your convulsing body, letting the ecstasy flow without a fight. Karina keeps ramming her fingers, letting you feel: it’s at the bottom of your throat, the curved spine, the uneven switch from slow to fast. And when you’re finally spent, the ridiculous pull withering away from your core, slick spread dripping to your inner thighs, air cooling your body, followed with a stray lick from Karina’s tongue. 

“Okay. Okay. Relax,” you groan. “That’s good enough.” 

“But you taste wonderful,” Karina mutters, helping you up before treating another go at your neck. Rubbing your stomach and massaging a boob. “I’ve never had anyone clamp around my hand like that, not to mention squirt- ” 

“Karina,” Christ almighty, she’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing. 

“Jus’ sayin,” she chortles, watching you put your head on her shoulder with a peck. Karina helps herself to hugging you, patting some hair and dancing her fingers in various areas of your figure. Tapping on the shoulder, an oblique, grinning into the kiss delightfully. 

“Do you have to go?” You ask innocently. Karina’s face shifts and you feel the disappointment set in. 

“Unfortunately.” That makes you wince. “I have a meeting first thing in the morning. The monthly meeting.” 

“Right.” You can’t even be upset in the first place - especially you forgetting she has a job - but it’s spiraling as it is, adding onto the growing feeling Karina’s got what she wanted and has cast you aside. She notices this, bringing herself close and tapping her nose at the tip of your forehead. 

“I’d stay,” she whispers, “Believe me. If I could, I’d stick with you longer.” 

It cuts like a blade, considering what it meant between you two (and you, especially). You negate the thought, replace it with a subtle mock: “You’re already there longer than here.” 

“Tell that to my superior and they’ll have someone cover me. I’m sure the next guy called up won’t have an issue taking a bullet out of a patient’s brain.” 

“Ew-” you cringe at the new information. “Warn a girl next time, will ya?” 

“Because of what I said?” 

“I’m joking.” You answer that with a finger to Karina’s clavicle, poking her rapid heart, swiping your thumb at her lips. “I am a little worried, however.” 

“Are you subjecting me to a psychology consultation now? Normally that comes after ten, even twenty years.” 

“Issues can occur at all ages. Can never be too late nor early.” 

“Wonderful,” Karina chuckles as she gets your finger between her teeth. “For the record: I’ve been like this. Always.” 

“This, as in-” but the cutoff happens when Karina drags you flat on your back; straddling and leaning down for a long, wanting kiss, breaking away. 

“Your enchantment over me,” she answers, grinning. That alone makes you blush, followed up with a delightful kiss by her. You could feel her lips tap your forehead and down to your cheekbones - even the spots where you want her to touch over and over. Once she meets your lips, you can taste the sweetness coming off it. 

“I really want to stay,” rasps Karina, pulling away, but you hold her close. 

“Stay.” It’s all you want her to do. 

“Me staying equals leaving at four in the morning to my apartment- along with the commute to the hospital while beating early traffic. Plus you told me there’s class tomorrow. You’d sleep in instead of waking up and that means you’ll miss the lecture.” 

Karina’s opinion shouldn’t be seen as an excuse, since she’s right. It’s not the first time it’s happened to you, and that thought burns in your head: that idea of anger clouding your judgement - going through the motions and not thinking twice. After all- 

It’s only transactional. 

“I guess you should go,” you say, calmly. 

“You’ll be fine without me,” says Karina, kissing you. “Get some rest.” She then smothers you with more kisses, stopping at your nose before rising. You watch as she pulls on her clothes, walking around the room to gather her things. Only to return and slide a few hairs from your face, lips to the crown. “Call you later?” 

“Sure.” Karina steers her head to the side of yours. “Be safe, okay?” 

You come against her lips. “I will.” 

With satisfaction, you see Karina’s eyes pulling away; filled with nothing but darkness behind them, hoping to be full of you. That alone makes you want to shut the door once she leaves and bury your face into the bed. You hear her curse once she’s at the door, fiddling with the knob a few times when it doesn’t budge. She clicks her tongue and jams the thing again. 

“You’re supposed to turn it slowly,” you say while sitting up. “Normally I keep the thing half open most of the time.” 

“Well how long has the door been like this?” 

“Since I bought the place.” 

“Fuck me,” Karina exclaims. “Luckily this is an easy fix, I hope.” 

“Wait till I tell you about the water bill.” 

“What about it?” 

“There’s no hot water for me some days.” 

“And you didn’t bring this up with your owner?” She asks, angrily. 

“Multiple times,” you answer, shrugging. “Brushed it off aside because he didn’t want to deal with it.” 

Karina huffs, gripping the doorknob, the hinges creaking from the force. “What a complete asshole.” 

“I’ve got by this far; Karina, it’s fine-” 

“I’m bringing my guy next week to deal with this,” Karina butts in, unwilling to argue. “The doorknob I’ll help you with and I’ll get the shower fixed properly.” 

You wince in embarrassment. “Karina, you don’t have to-” 

“I want to,” she replies, her gaze wistful looking back. “I applaud you for living like this for so long, you should at least make it somewhat bearable.” 

“Alright, I hear you.” 

“I’ll have a repairman see the place.” That being said, Karina manages to get the door open and walks away. Not long after, the front door shuts. You get ready for bed and pat down your pillow, leaning in to get Karina’s scent, curling it as you fall asleep. 

–

(Right before you leave for class, you check your phone to see two things: 

(1). A payment wired from Karina for breakfast. 

(2). The contact information for the handyman she also mentioned.) 

–

“Have you been getting my texts? My calls?!” Yunjin asks the moment you answer the phone, muting your laugh. 

“Hi, Yunjin. I’ve missed you too.” 

“Everything’s okay? School is not too much for you?” She asks again. 

You slouch on your speakeasy chair, socks sliding across the hardwood. You place the phone on the armrest and inhale the aroma of your asahi tea. “All is good,” you answer. “I’ve just been- caught up with, well- y’know: life.” 

“You don’t sound sure.” 

“It’s just school,” you supply. “These next couple years are precious to me, graduate program and what not.” Yunjin hums a sound of approval. “Plus the communication goes both ways. If you feel like calling me, then do it.” 

“Work’s been alright, just busy.” Yunjin defends promptly. 

“Exactly my point.” You remark, sipping your tea, zoning out to different parts of your home, waiting to hear from Yunjin. The both of you tend to yap at times - most of the calls go this route usually: short updates, the long spells of silence; maybe a tad bit of resentment too, but you don’t go that far. Yunjin has her soft side (more than she would like to admit) but holds a high standard in your very different lives. 

Her final question after these conversations: “Is your money situation holding up?” 

“Yes-” is the go-to answer, “-and before you say anything, I’m fine with you, uncle, or auntie not sending me money for the time being.” 

“Tips flowing this time around this year?” 

“Swimmingly,” you laugh. 

Yunjin chuckles, “Good to know you’re holding up. Don’t hesitate to call me, hm?” 

“One call away.” 

“Take care, kid.” 

She then hangs up right as you mumble a ‘bye’. 

–

A bit peculiar when it’s a random one o’clock in the afternoon, hearing a knock from the kitchen. To your curiosity, you’re caught in Karina’s arms before you could even mutter a simple ‘hi’. Her mouth is all over your face and you’re laughing as she shuts the door behind her

“How are you-” you could feel her grin against the row of your bottom lips, “-even here? What the heck?!” 

“I'm on my extended break,” beams Karina, tugging the waistband of your sweats, humming at your whimper. “Though, it was worth coming all the way here.” 

“What about lunch?” You ask.

“What about it?” 

You could feel Karina’s fingers slide up from the little groove of your ass to your waist, pinching. Your breath hitches, toes curling on the floor. “I was just asking.” 

She drags her head back from your collarbone to smirk. “The only thing I have on the menu is you.”

You both laugh, and you let the urge to kiss her consume your thoughts. Fueled by passion, your heel hooks around her thigh, pulling your legs close as Karina’s hand cups your panties, the fabric shifting at her touch, clinging. She then holds you by the neck, leaning down to deepen the liplock - feel her hand grasp behind your ass, hand pressing firmly your toes are curling. Cumming like this would be the fastest way to do things, but you want Karina’s pair of lips in a spot where it’s useful. 

So you yank her by the hair, see her face full of want spilling from her eyes - lidded and far gone she’s practically drooling with her mouth hung open. Karina palms your cheek, grazing your lip. “C’mon,” you beg, moving along with Karina’s hand. “I want you to fuck me-” 

Karina smiles, psychotic. Pins your body hard against the wall - it suffocates you. “So needy. You don’t care about the neighbors complaining this time?” 

You’re blushing brighter and listen to Karina’s giggle. She’s willing to give your request, yanking your body off the hallway and stumbling back to the bedroom. Kicking the door open it slams into the wall. 

It’s all out of pure giddiness when Karina pushes you down so she’s the first one to get her clothes off, tossing them one layer onto another - ripping off your sweats and clutching your head for another kiss. Tensing up as her fingers tap the wet fabric of your underwear. 

“Fucking tease,” you grit, heat rising to your skin; every move of muscle another ache to satiate for your own pleasure. “I’m gonna go insane if you don’t touch me.” 

“Well we can’t have that, can we?” Karina says, eager to be the overseer of your own undoing. “Especially since you’re a lot rude compared to before,” she tells you, closing the proximity, right as you’re pushing for more, when suddenly- 

The power’s cut off from the place. 

Karina stops her movements, looking up. It is out of nowhere, just to be clear. So you’re just waiting a few seconds for the lights to go back on. As uncommon as it is- well, the building is a bit outdated by twenty years, and the aged wiring has been mentioned, but the apartment’s still dark. 

“Are you fucking serious?” You huff, pleasure now flushed from your body. You tap Karina to move. “God, I swear I- ugh, what the actual fuck-” 

“What happened?” Karina asks, and you’re off the bed and into the kitchen. You swipe the small stack of envelopes from the coffee table to scour, squinting because of the lack of proper lighting. You then grab your phone and turn on the flashlight mode. Karina hovers over you, concerned. “Is everything okay?” 

“My electricity,” you say. “I think they upped the amount to pay and I gave them the old amount in short without checking. It sucks but- I thought they didn’t say it’ll happen till the following month-” 

“Ah- it happens, don’t worry,” remarks Karina. She pats your shoulder and kneels down to your hunched state. “If you just explain and pay the remaining amount, they’ll be fine with it. Best that I can assume.” 

“There’s just one catch, I-” 

Don’t even have the cash. You stop your mouth, and exhale loudly. Karina can imagine the look on your face even when she doesn’t see it; you could feel the anxiety rise up to the air. 

“You just need help-” and that’s what scares you: the implication. “I can, if you let me.” 

“Karina, it’s fine.” 

“It’s not fine.” She snaps. “I can because I want to.” 

“Asking you won’t make me feel any better-” but Karina cups your face. Gazing into your eyes, sympathetic. 

“I’m giving you an offer-” she laughs, and you’re undecided if it’s pitiful - it shouldn’t be. “-to help. You don’t have to deal with it all by yourself.” 

You stare, ignore the alarming pang of your heart. “Okay,” you’re saying, somewhat relieved. 

Karina then kisses your chin before patting your head. “If you have an account for your lease, I can pay it through there.” She checks the time on your phone screen as well. “Okay, I also have less than an hour until the power comes on so I can chill with you until later.” 

“Laptop’s back in the room,” you sigh. “My password is my birthday.” 

“I have a good memory, I remember.” Karina chortles, nodding as she marches back to your room. You smile but once she’s away, your face folds and is riddled with depression. 

–

(Wonyoung phones you, er- or at least, tries to: “So you’re not gonna fill me in until later or what’s happening?” 

“Uh,” you lick your lips, since the ostense sounds pretty enticing. “Yeah, don’t worry about it.” 

“Wai-” and the line goes dead. 

It’s definitely on sight for her when she spots you sometime in the week.)

–

oh, we're not done here. that's why there's a double drop. ;')

[prael]

yuri

Jo Yu-ri - 조유리

Born on October 22, 2001, in Busan, South Korea.

Genre selected: Busan Girls.

:relieved:

[prael]

Welcome to my rot, you can call me Moss.

Hi, my name's Moss. As you can tell, I'm new here. Not that I've never tried writing, but in the sense that I've yet to publish anything. I've got a few works in the archive waiting to be planted here and bloom, and I hope anyone reading will enjoy them.

I'm fine with writing smut or fluff; it'll mostly be either of the two. My ultimate bias is Sullyoon (if you couldn't tell already), but I can write for anyone with whom I have an interest in. Feel free to ask and inquire if you take a liking to any works I plant here in the future.

Future masterlist:

[prael]

I wonder how many Asa drafts you've got...

And how many you've binned and recycled ♻️

The answer to both questions is simultaneously 'not enough' and 'too many'.

[prael]

Good to hear! You’re my favorite writer on here so I’m always looking forward to more :)

Thank you for reaching out, I always appreciate an ask/message, and it always motivates me to write more. Hope I can give you something else to read from me soon!

Best,

Prael

[prael]

Hey are you still writing? I feel like you upload a lot less than you used to

Hello Anon,

It's been a while...

Yeah, I'm still writing. I just dont have anywhere near as much time to do as I used to, life has been pretty busy.

I've been working on a commission for a while and im committed to making that my next post, it's just proving to be a bit of a tricky one.

I've taken breaks from that to write some smaller quick fics, so I have actually a bit of a backlog to post once I've got this one done! I just don't know when that will be.

Best,

Prael

[prael]

How much do i pay for you to post part 6 of folie à deux?

Dear anon, and the many other people who have asked about folie...

^ for example.

I'm so grateful that you're all so invested in this series, and I do really love it myself. I do want to post more and I have a whole collection of ideas that I want to cover in it. I have been writing it here and there over the last few months.

However, commissions always take priority, and right now, once I finish a commission, just as I'm ready to being writing again, another one arrives.

Don't get it twisted, it's a great problem to have. I love that I have so much interest in my commissions, but I am just one person with one keyboard and one mind and two hands. As soon as my schedule clears up, I will continue writing it!

Part 6 already has a good chunk of content but I want to add more before it's posted, so please, stick with me <3

Meanwhile, I do hope you're enjoying the other stories I'm posting.

[prael]

Positions

Le Sserafim Kazuha x male reader

words: 5.6k Masterlist

Distrust is a funny thing because it should be fairly easy to hide, yet everyone always knows when you're looking at them with it.

He's giving you that look. It's written all over his face. In big, black, bold letters. And yet he hasn't said anything. Betrayal has left him more like a scolded puppy than a vengeful husband.

He doesn't even watch her get out of the car and approach your studio, just looks on at you like it's all your fault, and he's not the one to blame. No one is blameless here - that's for certain. Then he suffers the humiliation for all three of you, though. You don't feel much shame - and she obviously doesn't feel any. So he has to take the brunt of it. That's his penance to bear, and it's why he scowls so hard.

She doesn't even glance his way. Her focus is solely on you. There is something so wrong with that. It's sick - how you can feel like you've broken a man without ever even meeting him.

"Morning, Zuha," you speak as you bow and let her inside your studio. She is a sight, as she is in her usual garb: tight, stretchy pants, and a top which clings to her body, showing off her figure. Today's ensemble is light blue, top and bottom. It complements her skin tone and the deep, dark wave of hair, which, for once, isn't up in a ponytail. It flows over her shoulders, past them, to mid-back, and you wonder why she bothers tying it back if it looks so beautiful when loose.

She's wearing a wide smile, in complete contrast to the man she leaves outside. There is nothing to suggest that this is a day where she does anything other than go about her regular routine of exercise and self-care, but there are a lot of lies here. Her lies. His too.

She's quiet as she walks past. You close the door, shutting out her external ties to the real world, and turning to her. Eyes - warm and inviting - scan your appearance, taking in your casual clothing. It isn't like her to not say anything when she comes in, and it isn't like you to just let her stand in the middle of the studio without a word of instruction. Today, though, today isn't about the usual.

"Kazuha," you begin to say, which she immediately interrupts.

"I've been practising," she informs you, her tone more excited than you have heard it in a while, which, in itself, isn't a surprise to you.

"Maybe you'd like to show me how you're getting on," you reply, but you don't even need to finish speaking to have her nod in agreement and begin to take her position. She faces the mirror at the far side of the studio. You stand behind her. You watch her, and she watches herself. She likes to look at her own body as she stretches it to its limits.

You would be the first to say it's an impressive sight to witness.

She lifts both hands, then bends over and places the flats of both palms on the ground. She's doubled over, her ass in the air. Her legs are stretched taut, straight and firm, and she holds the position.

"I have to ask," you say, taking a step closer to her. "Is this going to be a lesson or a performance?"

She looks up at you from between her legs, head upside down, "Just watch."

She crawls her hands forward and slides her feet outwards. Her legs get wider and her ass begins to sink towards the ground - it's pulled so taut. Round and firm, even though you know it's a soft cushion from personal experience. You watch her legs spread full as she completes the splits. She leans forward and places her chest flat on the ground. Her back is as tense as her thighs and legs, but there's much less fabric there to hide the definition. You watch the way she arches her spine and her shoulders flex to pull herself off the ground, pushing herself back upwards, hands flat to the floor, her legs straight and stretched as far as possible.

She looks over her shoulder at you, and she has the most beautiful of smiles. It's a wide grin complemented by the slight blush on her cheeks and the sparkle of mischief in her eyes. It's a look she has given you many a time - a look you know well. A look that has been etched into your memory for many months. The unforgettable kind.

She knows exactly what you're looking at and she lets out the breathiest of laughs before she speaks, "How's my form?" And she knows it's good. You know she's not asking for your professional opinion on how she's getting along with the splits, she wants you to tell her that her ass looks amazing, which you do.

"It's perfect."

"I can go further, remember, just lift my legs up into the air," she reminds you.

"Yeah, I remember." She had been a natural from the start. Her legs had no trouble with the stretches. They had no issue being forced apart and being suspended at all. "I think we should work on that now, actually."

"And why's that?" she asks with a coy look as she brings her outstretched legs around in front of her and then pushes herself back to her feet.

"Well," you say, as you walk over to her. You take her hand, and then you lead her towards the mirrored wall with the bar for support. "You want the honest answer or the professional one?"

She laughs again. It's a delightful sound, her laugh. It makes your chest tight. "Both."

"Well, professionally," you begin, releasing her hand so she can hold the rail and look at herself in the mirror. You stand behind her, with your hands on her waist and speak into her ear. "Professionally, it's a challenge to your body's strength, balance, and mobility." Your hand travels along the smooth curve of her hip.

"Is that so?" she says with a hint of amusement, as her breathing grows more laboured.

"Mhm," you reply, as your fingers caress down the back of her thigh. You hold her leg in your palm, fingers settling on her inner thigh, ready to guide her into position.

"And the other thing?" She asks, breathless.

"The honest thing?" You ask, but she doesn't reply. "The honest thing is, I like seeing your body pushed to the limit."

"Oh," is all she says, in some pseudo-agreeing and nonchalant tone before she starts to raise her leg. She holds the rail, and you guide her leg up, past the horizontal and all the way to the vertical. It's straight and high, and her standing leg is stable, even with her bare feet. "Like this?"

"Yes. Like that. How's your balance?"

"It's fine. I've got a strong core, you know that."

"All too well," you say as you slip your hand along her inner thigh. No longer supporting, you encroach on the thin barrier between you and the apex of her thighs. Your fingers press against her. The material is tight and thin. You can feel her warmth, even through the layers of fabric.

"You know my husband is right outside." Her tone isn't accusatory, not at all. If anything, she sounds excited. Thrilled even. Her words seem to encourage you, and your hand presses firmer into her crotch, the fabric rubbing against her.

"I know," you say as you look at the reflection, meeting her eyes by peering through the space between her head and her foot. You look at her and see the way she is watching your every move. You glance at the way her leg is up in the air. She's so stable, even as you rub her cunt. Your fingers press in, feeling for the folds beneath her pants, and then you slip a little lower and press your fingertip against her clit.

"Oh, fuck," she exhales with a low groan. You smirk at her reaction.

"Hold the pose," you tell her as your finger rubs in small circles. "Don't move."

She's biting her lip and her chest rises with each deep breath, as if trying to keep herself stable and standing. Her leg trembles, just slightly, and you can't help but laugh as you feel the muscles tense under your touch.

"Stay still," you whisper to her.

"You're making that difficult," she says with a short huff of a laugh.

"You want me to stop?"

"No." It comes out quick and firm.

You smirk, and you keep on rubbing her pussy through the thin, tight material of her pants. You press your hand in harder, as you look her body over. She looks divine. Her body is so tight, with her legs and thighs being pushed to their absolute limits. You watch the muscles of her neck flex and the tension in her shoulders as she holds herself stable, her head up to look in the mirror. She watches you, and watches her leg up in the air, as she tries to focus on anything other than the heat which floods between her thighs.

Her mouth opens slightly, her eyes close and her brow creases, but the moment her breath sounds more like a moan, she clamps her mouth closed and lets out a deep breath through her nose. It makes you smile. Her cheeks are glowing red. Her breath is heavy, and she's trying to be so quiet.

"How long do we have? How long will he wait out there?" you ask as you lean in closer. Her body shudders at the proximity. Your breath hits the exposed skin on her neck, making her tremble.

"As long as I need him to."

"Do you think you'll be able to hold the position while I make you cum?"

Her eyes open again, and she looks at your reflection. She's smiling. She nods, just slightly.

"You think you'll be able to stay balanced while you have my fingers in you?"

Her eyes flutter closed for a moment, and her breath leaves her in a short, sharp gasp. You know how to get to her. Her smile grows.

"I'd love to rip these open, but I can't send you home in ruined clothes," you whisper. It makes her giggle, a soft and amused noise. You pull her leg back down, and she stands there, hand on the railing, with a slight bend in her hips and a slight arch in her back. It pushes her ass out, and she does it with a purpose. She knows what she's doing. She knows exactly how she looks. "Never get tired of that ass," you comment as you grab it. A quick, firm squeeze. It's so pliable in your hand. She laughs.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of her blue yoga pants, pulling them down slowly. You expose the expanse of her back, the curve of her spine, the dimples just above her cheeks. And then, finally, her ass is bare. There's nothing underneath her pants but toned curves and soft flesh. Your eyes drink in the sight. It's not new to you, but it's always exciting.

She steps out of her pants, and as you toss the clothing aside, you watch her. The muscles of her thighs and legs are tense and tight, and her skin is so smooth. You run a hand up her calf, past the back of her knee, along her inner thigh. She burns under your touch. Your eyes wander over her. You can see her arousal; the shine on the lips of her cunt, the slight pink hue to her flesh. Your fingers brush over her. The wet sound is unmistakable. She moans at the sensation and the noise.

You stand, and she raises her leg again without being asked or instructed. She's watching you, her eyes on yours as her leg rises higher and higher. Your eyes wander down, along her leg, down to the place you can't help but be fixated on. It's a beautiful sight. Your hand comes down to caress her cunt, and you feel her lips and the wetness which seeps from between her thighs.

Your eyes rise to meet hers in the reflection, and she's smiling as you press two fingers inside of her.

"Fuck," she exhales in a short, breathy word. You can feel her pussy squeeze your fingers.

"You're soaked," you say as you watch her in the mirror.

"Been thinking about you all morning," she confesses as her head falls backwards and her hand grips the bar. Her fingers flex and tighten. Her body trembles.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"He ever got you this wet?" You can't help yourself. It slips from your mouth in a low, almost growl of a tone. You press your fingers in and pull them back out. You repeat it a few times, fucking your fingers in and out of her wet hole. She's so hot, her body trembling and tense.

"No," is all she says, her voice soft, her eyes opening again. She's watching you. "Not anymore," she adds with the slightest shake of her head. Her eyes close, and her lips open. Her mouth forms a perfect circle as you fuck your fingers in and out of her.

"He doesn't make you cum, does he, Zuha?" Your voice is a low rumble as you speak to her, watching her face contort and twist in the reflection. You look down, at the sight of her pussy wrapped around your two digits, the wet lips spread open as you fingerfuck her. She looks divine. Her legs are trembling, and she's so tense. You have to push in firmer to keep her stable.

"Only when he leaves me alone," she replies, breathlessly laughing.

"Only when he leaves you to think of me," you say with a grin as you curl your fingers inside her. Her hips buck, her body sways, and she lets out the softest whine. You press your thumb to her clit as your fingers rub inside of her. You feel her squeeze around them. She has to grab her leg, she can't keep it there on her own.

"Oh, god," she whines.

"Careful. Don't lose it now." She nods, her lip between her teeth, as her eyes screw shut. "You're nearly there," you say, in a soft tone as she writhes in front of you.

"So close," she whispers, hot and panting. Trembling and tense. You can feel it all; the way she tightens and flexes, her muscles clenching. It's a struggle for her to stay standing. She can't balance, even though her hand grips her leg and the other the railing, hard enough to make her knuckles turn white.

Her eyes fall closed. Her mouth hangs open slightly. Kazuha holds her breath.

She's cumming all over your fingers - a muted cry, muffled whines and whimpers, the tightening of her pussy and the spasming of her muscles, the tremor in her body and the gush of fluids which seeps from her. She's making a mess, though, from the waist up, you wouldn't know it. She's so elegant, even now, as she's being fingered in the dance studio with her husband outside. The only thing that betrays her calm appearance is her face, contorted and twisted with pleasure. She has her lip bitten, her brow creased and her jaw tense.

Finally, she relaxes, standing on two feet again as you pull your hand away and take a step back. She leans forward, forehead pressing against the cool, soothing glass. There's that same slight bend at the hips, that same arch in her back and the protrusion of her ass. Only this time, her cum seeps down her inner thigh.

You step against her again, your hands settling on her waist. She looks up at your reflection, smiling that satisfied, lazy grin.

"How's my balance? My composure?" she asks, amusement dancing in her tone.

"You're flawless."

"As are you," she compliments as you press a kiss to the back of her shoulder. "But..."

"But?" you repeat, lightly planting your hand against her butt, which she finds hilarious, as she laughs and shakes her head at you.

"But time's running out. It's only a one-hour session."

"Can't keep him waiting?" you tease. You already know that she doesn't care how long she leaves him waiting outside, but it is funny to watch her try to act like she does. She shrugs and gives a little non-committal sound. "We can still take our time, enjoy it." You kiss her neck. "There's still so much I want to see from you."

"What do you want to see?"

"You're a dancer. And dancing is all about the hips. You can move those things so beautifully."

She smirks and looks away, down at her own body, at her lower abdomen and the place where your hands are caressing her. She nods her head slowly as she bites her lip. "You wanna watch my ass shake, don't you?" She asks, still biting that bottom lip. She laughs as she watches you nod. She's right. So you nod, and she tells you: "Get on the floor then."

You don't even need a moment to process what she said to you. You get down, knees hitting the wooden boards. You sit back on your legs, and look up at her - she's standing in front of the mirrored wall. She looks over her shoulder. "Enjoying the view?" She asks, a teasing hint in her voice as she looks down at you. You look up, nodding and smirking.

"Immeasurably," you reply. You watch as her hips move, the muscles of her thighs flex, and the soft flesh of her backside shakes. She's hypnotic, her body swaying and her hips moving in slow circles. You reach up to grab her, hands on the back of her thighs as you watch the way she moves. She laughs at the way your fingers sink into the flesh. She's so warm under your palms.

"You can lie down if you'd like," she says as you watch the slow, rhythmic motion. "I'll put on a show." Your hands drop away, and you lower your back onto the floor. You watch as she looks at herself in the mirror and rolls her body. Each time, she sinks a little lower, bends at the knees, and her thighs flex. Her body rolls and she laughs, and you lie there and watch her move. Her hips shake, and her ass jiggles. "You won't need those pants."

It's a thinly-veiled instruction, and she knows it, but she still says it in the form of a statement, as if it isn't a command for you to undress. You pull them down and off, and then you toss the garment aside. As you do it, she steps over you. A barefoot on either side of your hips. She looks down, over her shoulder, and you barely see her smile. "I was wondering where that was," she says. Her tone is so casual, it's like you aren't naked on the floor in a studio, and her husband isn't waiting for her in the car park.

Kazuha lowers herself into a split, one foot on either side of you. Her legs are stretched out wide and her ass is right over your cock. You get to see her muscles flex, and you watch as she moves herself up and down, grinding herself against you. Your cock slips between her pussy lips and you feel her arousal soaking your length.

"I can feel you getting harder. You're enjoying the view, huh?" she asks as she leans forward. She puts a hand on the floor between your legs. You watch her, the arch of her back and the way her legs are spread wide. She grinds her cunt over the shaft of your cock and she lets out the softest, low moans.

"Never seen a body quite like yours, Zuha," you say as your hands run up her thighs and to her ass.

"That's why I'm doing these classes - keeping in shape, keeping myself limber," she replies as she pushes herself back up and then slides back down, her cunt grinding over your dick. You groan and watch as your cock throbs against her. She reaches under, to grab your cock, guiding it to her opening. "I like the look of you, too. You look good down there, like you belong beneath me."

Your hands are on her cheeks, thumbs rubbing her soft skin. She sinks, her cunt swallowing the first inch of your dick. It's a warm, slick sensation as she takes the tip inside. She's so tight. She stops. You're barely inside her, and she starts to bounce those hips. She's just taking the tip, in and out, shaking her ass over your cock. Flesh ripples as the tight heat squeezes around your tip. Your hands squeeze, your fingers sink in, and your thumbs pull her cheeks apart.

Her hips shake, and she takes you in a little further. It's just two or three inches, nothing more, but she rides that part of your cock like she wants nothing else. You watch as your tip disappears between her lips and reappears again as she rides your dick in slow, steady motions.

"God, I can't wait for you to fill me," she says in a breathy tone. You look up at her reflection in the mirror, watching the way her chest heaves with each deep breath and the slight flush to her face.

"Why wait?" you ask, and you watch as her head rolls back. She's grinning, and she laughs as she sinks herself down your full length. Her ass presses against your pelvis. Her body stills with your cock throbbing inside her.

"Oh, that feels so good," she groans, throwing her head further back. Her back arches more, and in the mirror, you can see the way she stretches her tight abs. That tight top rides up. It still caresses her little tits, but her belly is on show. You can even see her ribs when she's fully stretched.

She's running her hands up her body, fingers splaying on her stomach, and then she cups her chest. You watch in the reflection, seeing the way her body is contorted, and her cunt squeezes around you.

"You're stunning," you say, breathless and panting.

"You're so big," she replies as she runs her palms over her covered tits. Her thumbs trace over the top of the material. The tight fabric clings to her chest, but you want to see her without it.

She starts to ride. Her ass bounces over your hips, and you feel her pussy tighten with each movement. You can only admire the strength it must take to ride you in full splits, with her body contorted and her muscles stretched taut. But she does it, her body rolling in a smooth motion and her thighs tensing with each rise and fall of her ass.

Your hands are on her butt. Fingers sinking in, you guide her to a slower pace, and she moans as your dick slides inside her. She's watching in the mirror, seeing the way she takes all of you in. You watch it, too.

And then she does the most insane thing. She reaches back, leaning over you, and you take her hands to support her. As she arches further and further, stretching her core and her thighs - everything - you see it. Your cock bulges under her skin. The outline of your cock in her stomach as her skin pulls tight. She moans as she leans, arching her body and contorting it in the most insane of ways, and your eyes fix on her abdomen. You watch it as you start to thrust your cock inside her.

"Can you see that?" She asks. You nod, and she laughs as her eyes close and her head rolls. "That's so hot," she says, as her fingers flex in yours. She's squeezing tight. She's panting. She's stuck suspended over you, her body contorted in ways that would make most women - and men - very jealous.

You hold her like that and begin to thrust up into her. You feel her clench around you and you watch the outline of your dick in her stomach. Your eyes wander over her chest and the slight jiggle of her breasts beneath her top, and her legs outstretched. She's so flexible, and you take advantage of that. Your hands support hers as you fuck up into her.

"Oh god," she pants, her body writhing and twisting in your grasp. "I'm not going to last long," she warns you.

"I can feel that." It isn't hard to see that she's enjoying herself, but the physical reaction is just as apparent. You feel her tighten and squeeze, and you know it's only a matter of time.

You move a little faster, buck a little harder, and she can't stifle the strained moans anymore. She cries out, head back, moaning like a woman possessed, but she holds the pose and you hold her, as you feel her body shake and her cunt clench. She cums - cums hard. She gushes and her body quakes in your grasp, but she never falters, even though she is whining and whimpering in pleasure.

"Good, Zuha, so fucking good," you whisper to her, still moving your hips. She's panting and her eyes flutter as she tries to catch a breath and stay in the same position. "Look at yourself, taking all of my cock, even like that."

You keep bulging her stomach, the shape of your dick pushing outwards. You can feel yourself throbbing inside her, and you're close, so close, and you can feel the heat and pleasure pooling between your hips. You have to stop, or else you'll finish too. Her legs can't hold the split anymore, coming to a close on either side of your own body. You lower her gently against your chest. Her back to your front, your dick still throbbing inside her cunt.

She's panting and laughing and shaking. "You didn't finish." It's a question and a statement.

"No."

"I want you to."

"Not like this." You wrap your arms around her slender frame. Just lying there with her atop your chest feels wonderful, and with the added sensation of your dick inside her, it feels incredible.

"Tell me how," she says. Her head is resting on your shoulder, and she looks up at the ceiling. Her breathing is heavy, and her chest is still rising and falling rapidly.

"Against the wall. With your ankles over my shoulders." Her lips curl into a wide, amused smile.

"I think you just like my flexibility more than you like me," she jokes.

"Nah," you reply, as your hand runs up her body and to the tight material over her chest. You feel her nipples under the material, and as your fingertips run over the peaks of them, she shudders. Her cunt clenches in reaction to your touch and you let out a short laugh. "I like everything about you."

"Yeah?" she breathes the word out as you run your fingers over her hard nipple. You roll the peak under the material, pinching it between two fingers as she squirms against you.

"I'd list it all, but that would be quite the task, and your husband's waiting," you tell her. Your hand is sliding over the material of her top. You're feeling her tits under the fabric. You cup the small handful, and she's so soft in your palms. Your fingers squeeze her chest, feeling her warm flesh beneath your touch, even if the fabric is still covering her. You roll her nipple again and you feel her arch her back and her ass push down on your lap.

You pull up her top, enough to see the underside of her breasts, the slight curve of the lower part of each mound. It exposes her enough for you to slip your hand beneath the material and feel her naked breast in the palm of your hand. Her body trembles as your fingers rub over the stiff peak of her nipple.

"Come on," you whisper, and you slip out of her, and she pushes herself off you.

A few moments later, she's got her back to the wall. You're standing between her open legs and kissing her. Your tongues dance in each other's mouths, and she's pulling you in by your neck. Her hands are in your hair and your hands are on her body - her thighs, her ass.

"Gonna fuck me now?" She asks with her eyes closed and her head back against the mirrored wall.

"Gonna make a mess outta you, Zuha."

She laughs and looks down, watching as you lift her legs up, carrying her with the help of the wall and your arms under her knees. She's holding on to your neck. Her legs spread open. "Do your best," she says, before pulling you into a kiss. She has her fingers in your hair, and her thighs against your chest as you thrust into her. She lets out the softest gasp against your mouth.

It's the perfect angle, the perfect position. You can't get enough. You start to fuck into her in hard and fast thrusts of your cock, filling her tight cunt, and you can feel the pressure of her body against yours as her cunt clenches around you. She moans against your mouth. Her thighs shake.

You've got her pinned against the wall, pressed to the cool, smooth mirror, her thighs held in the crook of your arms, her calves dangling over your shoulders as you fuck her. You pull your mouth from hers and you watch the way her body moves, you push up her shirt to watch her cute little tits move with each hard, rough thrust. She looks up at you and smiles that lazy smile. She looks blissful, and content. Her eyes close, and her mouth opens. You watch as she lets out soft, breathy noises with each motion.

She has one hand on the mirror and one in your hair, her nails are scraping at the back of your scalp as you fuck her. Her thighs are tight, pressed against your chest and tensing. Her toes are curled. And her body, her slender, taut body, is moving in a smooth rhythm against the mirror.

It's mesmerising. She's folded in half, suspended in the air with the wall behind her and your body holding her up. You're pounding her into it, and she's letting out such filthy, sweet noises. At this point, she's a toy. A vessel to fuck. She looks beautiful. Her hair is loose and hanging down over her face. The colour is in her cheeks, the pink of arousal, and she's biting her lip.

She doesn't need any help, you know that. You're giving her what she wants. The way her cunt tightens around you tells you as much, and the sounds which fall from her lips are all the encouragement you need. "Harder," she tells you. You give her harder. She cries out in pleasure, head back, and eyes screwed closed. "Harder!" she repeats. So, again, you give her harder.

It's rough, but she can take it. Her body can take the pounding. Her pussy can take the fucking. She's cumming again, with her fingers clawing at the mirror and at your hair, with her legs tensed and her toes curled. You don't stop fucking her through the spasming and squeezing of her body. She writhes, her mouth open and moans tumbling forth from her throat, her eyes closing, and her cunt tightening.

"Please cum," she whimpers, as she trembles. You can see the tears of ecstasy in her eyes, and you know you've fucked her well and properly, but there's only one thing missing. "Fill me."

And you do, you slam your hips forward, burying yourself as far in as possible and you cum deep in her cunt, spurting inside of her, filling her. She's panting, smiling that wide grin. "Yes," is all she says, in a breathless moan, as your body shivers against hers and your seed spurts deep in her pussy. She's clenching her thighs, tensing them and squeezing her cunt around your cock.

You keep cumming until you can't anymore until the pleasure fades to oversensitivity. Her hands are stroking your neck, your chest. She's panting and her eyes are closed, and you just stay there, with your forehead resting against hers. You breathe in the scent of sweat, of her, and the smell of sex in the air. It's an incredible aroma, all of it. And she's an incredible woman.

"I have to get in that car, full of your cum," she laughs, as she kisses your mouth, her hands cupping your face.

"That's so dirty. So wrong." You laugh as you speak, and you feel her smile.

"So dirty, and so good."

You slowly let her legs down. She holds you for support. Kazuha slips her top back over her chest and you pull out of her, letting your dick slip from her warm, wet pussy. Her thighs tremble, and she has to steady herself.

"I should clean up, I might leak your cum on his leather seats," she laughs loudly. She's so full of life and joy, it's wonderful. "And that's a bit too much, even for me."

"One day he's going to walk in here, you know that?"

She nods. Her smile doesn't falter. "Probably. And when he does, he can see what I look like when I'm not faking it."

[prael]

Behind the Scenes update

I just posted another one of my personal snippets that aren't ready for public posting into the private collection for ko-fi members.

You can find the link to join here:

http://ko-fi.com/prael/tiers

This horny Miyeon ramble joins the Kyujin that's fic already available :)

[prael]

Alternatives

IZ*ONE Kang Hyewon x male reader

7.6k words Masterlist

"All I'm saying is: try it. Let me put you in front of a camera and we'll see how it goes."

"Ah," she breathes out a small sigh of discomfort. Hyewon pushes at your hand, forcing you to loosen your grip on her waist. "And no," there's a brief pause for a deep gasp, "I'm not that desperate."

Her neck beckons your mouth with each swallow and suppressed groan. You lean forward, lips pursed, and lightly nibble across the column of her throat. "I think it'll suit you." You punctuate the statement with a singular, harder thrust of the hips to drive home your point. "The roleplay," you whisper into her ear.

Hyewon laughs, "You're sick," she spits, "but go on."

"Imagine being that college student all alone at her house. A handsome man," you kiss her cheek in the most delicate way possible, "- me - knocks on your door and introduces himself as a salesman." Your hands are tangled in her hair, nails softly scratching her scalp. "But then something about him, his smile, or lack thereof, seems so familiar..."

"Do I let him in?" she asks. It's posed as an innocent question, even with her fingernails scrawling down the wall you have her pressed against. You take a moment to let the question simmer, slapping your hips against her ass. You're forced to slow down - you almost finished right then.

"No," you manage between heavy breaths, "because you're smarter than that." There's a deep moan that travels through your chest like fire before you say: "You ask what he wants, why he's come. But when he reaches for his briefcase and shows you what he has to offer," you reach around to her stomach to brush past her clit on the way towards her labia. "You see a couple of toys and decide you might want one after all."

Hyewon arches her back against you at that, burying the tip of your cock into her deepest part. "Toys?"

"Yes," you thrust forward, holding her body flush against yours with your hand splayed across her stomach. "Then he invites himself in and you watch as he lays them all out on your living room table."

"I bet you'd like to tell me what he says next."

"Hmm... 'How about a free sample? So you know which one's right for you?' I'd pull out this very-" You lift her leg to get a deeper angle.

"Y-yes... fuck."

"- Large dildo that was just the perfect size for your tight little hole." You snake another hand around to hold her throat, thumb and finger teasing at squeezing her tightly. "And then it would just be us, doing what we do best - in front of the cameras."

"Oh my god, shut up," Hyewon whines, head tilting back to rest on your shoulder. "Keep fucking me." Your thrusts grow heavier as she grinds down on you.

"All your pretty orgasms caught in 4k." Hyewon's entire body twitches under your hold, legs shaking against the wall where they struggle to keep her upright. "People would pay a fortune just to get off on the sound of your voice alone."

"You're insane," she cries.

"I can't wait until someone else sees how beautiful you are."

"What makes you think-" You cut off her words by squeezing harder. Her mouth hangs open, eyebrows furrowing together. She rolls her hips down, and you let go so she collapses back against the wall.

"Think of the money we'd make together."

Hyewon's back arches against you as you feel her walls fluttering around your cock. "Ah," she gasps, trying desperately to match your pace. "Please," she whispers. Hyewon isn't in any place to talk; her breath hitches each time you drive inside her cunt. You push your fingers into her mouth as you continue speaking.

"Picture the comments; thousands, maybe millions, of strangers who'll never touch you but are so desperate that they'll pay to watch. Just one video is all it'll take." You smile into her neck, relishing the feeling of her warm skin against your lips as she trembles through another orgasm. "Just say yes. Say you want it too."

She shakes her head, swallowing thickly. "I don't - Fuck."

Your hand finds purchase in the curve of her hipbone before forcing her down against every snap of your hips. The sounds her pussy makes with each thrust fill the room alongside her whimpers of pleasure. "Come on."

"I'll never be that desperate."

-

The text said to come right over, and to bring wine - you know what that means.

"Again?" you ask.

"Someone else is more suited for the role," she mimics and mocks in an exaggerated impression of some director whose name you soon forget. It's always something; some new, trivial reason. It's no longer enough to tell someone they're not right for the part - they need some special way to reject someone and make them feel bad about themselves. Every little thing wrong with a candidate gets nitpicked to hell and back. Hyewon could act circles around anyone, and she's being passed up for whatever half-assed reason they can come up with.

She deserves better.

Your reassurance would be as hollow as the director's apology. It doesn't matter - the only response it earns is an eye-roll, anyway. "I know what you're going to say," she says. "And you can shove it."

You stand, bringing the glass to your lips. "You have to stop beating yourself up like this." You gesture vaguely at nothing in particular. "You shouldn't even be mad about missing out on such a low-quality project anyway. Seriously," you scoff, "the movie's going straight to DVD if they couldn't see your potential." Her eyes finally roll up from their downward glare. "Plus," you raise an eyebrow, "now you have all this extra free time."

She lifts her nose towards the ceiling. "To work on other projects that I'll get rejected from."

You set down your glass with a laugh. "To find one you're passionate about."

"And when the money dries up?" Her question is sharp and pointed; the implication is unsaid but clear.

You step closer. "The money’s already dried up. But, you know, we can still-"

"No." Her eyes narrow. There's a moment of silence, and then she sighs; her shoulders slump, and her face softens into something more vulnerable. "I bet you don't have this issue, do you? You turn up, do the same generic plot for the hundredth time with the fifteenth pretty woman of the month and move on." She drops onto the sofa with a groan. "Easy."

"I guess you could say I'm an opportunist," you smirk, sliding down next to her. Hyewon shifts away in annoyance before grabbing her wine.

She takes a long, slow drink; staring into nothing. After finishing the entire glass, she slowly licks her lips. Hyewon looks at you through her lashes. "You did it today, didn't you? You always have this look after filming. I can spot it every time." A single manicured finger taps against the stem of her wine glass, the soft clinking noise echoing around you. "Tell me about it."

"What do you want to know?" You inch closer, shifting your body towards hers. "The setting?" The heat of your breath washes against her cheek; a barely-there whisper. She tilts her chin, angling herself toward you.

"Yes."

"A large hotel room," you reply easily. "There's a bouquet of fresh flowers sitting on the nightstand next to a bed with a very neatly done coverlet." Her pupils widen as they scan over your expression.

"With satin sheets?"

You hum, reaching out to brush her hair behind her ear. "Right. And the plot, well; cheating girlfriend seduces bell clerk the night before her wedding - very tasteful stuff. So anyway, I'm helping her with her luggage while wearing my perfectly pressed uniform with the fake nametag - let's say I was called Alex this time." Her lips quirk into the hint of a smile before vanishing again. She reaches for the bottle sitting on the table beside the couch; her glass gets refilled while yours goes unnoticed. "So I'm working, right? But I can't help myself from staring at how pretty this woman is." Your gaze flickers towards Hyewon's mouth. "With these perfect, pouty lips begging to be wrapped around my cock, so naturally, I'm a little distracted from doing my job." Your voice lowers; dropping down to a sultry drawl. Her tongue slides across her lower lip.

"And she's all flirty, I bet? Did she really play it up like most actresses do? Just looking at you all doe-eyed and shit," she laughs, "because there's only so many times a person can take seeing some bimbo flutter their lashes all innocent-like without getting tired of it. I guess you don’t really care for realism."

"So one thing leads to another-" she rolls her eyes "- and next thing you know she's on her knees begging to get railed by 'Alex'," you nod.

Hyewon makes a face of mock-shock; eyebrows raised and her hand flying up to her chest to feign surprise. "How forward!"

"The director wanted to insert some foot stuff, but she didn't like the idea, so we skipped that. You would've liked the lingerie though, real lace number - all white. Very angelic, actually," you muse aloud. "Reminded me of you." She turns her head to the side. Her neck flushes red, the colour creeping upwards until the tips of her ears glow crimson.

"How thoughtful," she says dryly before taking another sip of wine.

"You can imagine the rest. There's sex, more sex, more sex, and then we wrap it up." You wave dismissively at the thought of work. Hyewon nods along silently; nails tap loudly against the glass. Her leg shakes incessantly; you lay your hand high upon her thigh, stilling her movements. Her breathing quickens under your touch.

"Sounds hot," Hyewon rasps. "I'm sure people will love getting off on such a masterpiece of cinema."

"Something's got you pent up," you note, completely ignoring the snipe.

"Got enough left in you to stay the night?" Her eyelids lower in a challenge.

You squeeze her thigh and lean forward to murmur in her ear: "Depends what’s on offer." Your fingers glide higher, stopping just short of touching where you both know she wants it. You trace lazy patterns on her inner thigh instead. She tenses before exhaling sharply through her nose; brows pinch together momentarily, frustration mounting steadily inside.

She shrugs, nonchalant. "Me."

"You're gonna need to be more specific than that."

A sigh escapes her lips; she purses them briefly, annoyed. Then she opens them slightly to speak. "Do you want to fuck me or not?"

The laugh rumbles from deep within your chest before spilling out of your throat without restraint. "Hyewon," your fingers finally drag across her pussy. "Anytime."

-

It's not often you take the time to just walk, but when neither you nor Hyewon have anything to film today, there's no harm in two friends taking a stroll. Of course, she has to wear a hoodie, a hat and glasses just in case some creep, adoring fan, or tabloid freelancer recognises her and starts following her around. If someone had told her before how exhausting fame can become, you doubt she'd listen. How does Hyewon keep herself from being crushed under the pressure?

Maybe that's why she keeps you around.

But she smiles brighter here, walking shoulder to shoulder with you on an empty beachfront street. Nobody ever really smiles in the spotlight. It reminds you of your teenage days: when the two of you were young, naive - stupid.

"So then," Hyewon draws the word out, pausing to inhale deeply before continuing her story. "I saw this old woman, she was trying to pick up this one fruit from the ground. And, I swear I thought I was watching it happen in slow motion because they all topple and there’s oranges everywhere." She chuckles at the memory. Her laughter sounds genuine, unlike her interviews and staged performances. Here it comes easily, bubbling up from within. The sound is soft yet vibrant and musical all at once. "And she looks at me, right? With this total 'Can you believe this shit?' look on her face. I'm losing it - trying so hard not to laugh, but I end up doubling over laughing hysterically anyway. Then I try to help her collect them all. We go back and forth between laughing at each other."

"So now you come down here and visit her regularly?"

"Well, yeah. See, she gave me an orange, so I came back the next day and I paid her for it. But then she gave me more fruits so I had to keep going back," she explains simply. Her shoes click against the sidewalk as she takes each step. "Plus," her lips twist into a faint smile, "I think she's lonely sometimes, you know? Just wants somebody to talk to about life outside the market."

"Ah," you grin, "I didn't know you had such a heart of gold."

Hyewon punches your shoulder with a scowl. "Fuck you."

"Out here by the beach? If you insist."

She rolls her eyes at you. "That wasn't a proposition," she points out flatly.

"But it could be," you offer with a sly smirk. She rolls her eyes harder - so exaggerated it looks painful.

"God, you're insufferable. Wait by the beach, will you? I'm going to go see her quickly," she says as she veers away from you; footsteps light and springy carrying her into a skip. "I'll come find you after."

Your gaze follows her figure until it disappears around a corner.

-

You had to text her directions. You walked off onto the beach and veered off down between the rocks near a quieter, closed-off part of the cove.

Now you watch the water rolling against the sand below, the sun beating down on the sea with waves crashing against the shore. You're shielded from sight by tall stone formations and an overhang above and it gives you just enough shade for comfort.

"Hey," Hyewon calls out, pulling you from your reverie. You glance up to see her striding towards you; long legs closing the distance quickly.

"All good?"

She nods as she sits by your side and slips her arms around yours. Her body is warm against you. "Yeah."

The wind picks up slightly and carries the scent of saltwater with it. A cool breeze brushes past your face and tickles your skin. You shiver involuntarily; goosebumps appear along your forearms where they're exposed to the elements.

"So when do I get to meet her?" you inquire, which makes Hyewon furrow her brow in confusion.

"Why?"

"Just curious if she knows how much of an ass you really are."

"I don't think you'd survive the trip," she jokes dryly. "She'd eat you alive."

You scoff dramatically. "I'm sure I could charm my way out somehow."

Hyewon laughs openly and unreservedly at the comment; bright and loud and sweet. "Trust me, dude. She would chew you up and spit you out faster than anything."

Her fingers trace absent circles along your bicep as she talks idly, rambling about nothing important. Hyewon always speaks easily; rarely hesitates before jumping into a conversation. Sometimes it seems like she loves hearing herself talk, and perhaps she does, but more likely she needs to fill the silence that permeates everything else around her.

She tells you about something funny a mutual friend said recently and something cute her cat did last night and eventually about some rumours going around the industry lately. The whole conversation is a backdrop for what's happening between you.

You study Hyewon carefully. The curve of her jawline where her hair frames her face perfectly; her dark lashes fluttering when she blinks slowly at you; the shape of her lips, curved upwards slightly every time she smiles softly. Her body is relaxed against yours, and she lets her hands wander freely.

"And this one time, my cat seemed obsessed with stealing my socks." She recounts the stories of how he kept bringing them back into her bedroom whenever she left. "He's so cute," she's telling you while slipping down your shorts. "I should probably pay attention to him more. He's been really needy lately..." She trails off, humming thoughtfully.

"Maybe he's bored, or just needs to play more," you suggest with a shrug of one shoulder.

"Bored of what?" she asks curiously, and bringing no attention to how she just placed her palm on your crotch, slowly moving her hand back and forth. She doesn't pause while waiting for a response.

"I mean, he's stuck in the house all day." You clear your throat nervously; eyes fixed firmly ahead, even as she continues to stroke you. "Don't cats need exercise?"

"He's still so lively and playful, though. Always wants to wrestle or run after toys or chase bugs, and he tires himself out." She never once glances down between your legs. "So, do you think it's just pent-up energy?"

Your breath hitches slightly when her palming becomes a grip, and she twists her wrist on the next stroke. "Maybe he just needs a release," you try to say in a level tone, only partially managing to hide the tremor from your voice. She pumps at a steadier pace as she processes this idea for herself.

"Yeah..." Hyewon trails off, seeming unsure. "That makes sense...maybe."

You sit there in the warmth of the late afternoon sunshine, allowing yourself to relax into her touch as she continues to jerk you off lazily. Neither of you makes any effort to address what's occurring beyond it; simply two friends passing the time, talking aimlessly.

"I guess you might be right," she concludes eventually, before slipping her hands into your shorts. "I should definitely buy him a scratching post or something." Hyewon rubs her thumb at the head, spreading pre-cum further before using it to ease her strokes. The new slickness makes the movement glide smoother against sensitive skin. It catches you by surprise, and you gasp quietly at the sensation.

"Seems reasonable," you manage to mutter under your breath; barely audible over the crashing of waves nearby.

"Or maybe I should get a friend for him," Hyewon ponders. A moan slips past your lips as she pumps particularly slowly, making sure to drag her fist tightly along the length. She seems lost in thought and distracted by her musings - her pace picks up speed subconsciously.

"A f-friend?" Your mouth hangs open as another gasp escapes you.

"Yeah, y'know, to give him companionship so he isn't so dependent on me." She purses her lips in contemplation. A sigh comes from you in response, eyelids drooping as pleasure builds low within. Hyewon picks up the change in your demeanour; she slows her pace ever-so-slightly. Your hips twitch impatiently under her deliberate slowness.

"Although," she begins, "maybe he prefers having me to himself. He gets awfully jealous if anyone else gets near me."

"Don't they all?"

She hums. Her gaze sweeps towards you casually, almost disinterested. But her eyes linger far too long, and you know she feels the same pressure coiling tighter and tighter within your core as well. Hyewon studies your expression intently as your breathing turns shallow, and she squeezes her hand gently, pumping faster - twisting just right beneath the crown. Her rhythm remains controlled. A groan escapes your lips as the heat grows in the pit of your stomach and radiates outward. "You close?" Her question breaks the silence. You merely nod, mouth slack-jawed.

A satisfied smirk curves across her lips. Without missing a beat, she leans closer to kiss the side of your neck lightly. Then she murmurs into your ear softly: "Do it for me." Her teeth scrape over your lobe; a gentle reminder of whose hand is on your cock, and why exactly it's there.

And it's that combination - the subtle order paired with her tongue flicking against your earlobe - which sets your body ablaze and causes the tension in your muscles to finally snap. Her name falls from your mouth as you release messily over her fingers, and some ropes splatter on the sandy ground.

There's a soft laugh followed by a teasing remark on how much of a mess you've made. You grunt weakly. Hyewon smiles and shakes her head before removing her hand from your now-softening length. "You're gross," she comments idly.

When you glance at her, however, there's nothing malicious or irritated present in her features - rather, amusement dances behind those brown eyes. There's something undeniably erotic about seeing her expression so neutral after stroking someone to completion. You tell her, "Felt like a waste. Could have put it somewhere more useful."

"Could have, but I didn't feel like putting in the effort today." Hyewon licks her hand clean, sucking her fingertips with an exaggerated pop. "Besides, we're not done catching up."

"Got more cat stories?" you ask jokingly, sliding your shorts up your legs with shaky hands.

"Nah, going to tell you about my cousin's divorce."

"Sounds thrilling."

"Truly," Hyewon smirks as she pulls your hand up under her skirt. "Wanna hear it?"

"I'm all ears." Your fingers slide against her underwear and immediately feel the damp fabric clinging to her skin. "Start talking."

-

"Are we pretending again tonight?" She slides over your thighs; the silk of her nightdress riding up her hips.

You skim your palms across the thin fabric covering her chest; feeling the swell of breasts beneath. She arches into your touch as you cup their weight. Her nipples stiffen visibly beneath the sheer cloth. When your fingertips brush over them, she shivers, leaning further into the caress. Her fingers dig into the meat of your shoulders as her mouth finds yours hungrily; tongue slipping between parted lips as she explores every inch of your mouth. And all you can do is surrender fully to the sensations she elicits inside you - heat blooms low in your belly; desire courses through your veins like fire igniting everywhere her skin makes contact with yours.

"We've been doing this a lot, recently," you comment as she drags her teeth along your jawline; leaving small, reddish marks where they graze sensitive areas of your neck.

"Going to complain about sex?" she breathes against your neck, punctuating each word with another bite.

"Not at all," you reply, sliding your hands along her thighs as they tighten around yours. "Can't help but think it's the boredom. Or the stress?" you say with a tilt of your head as you push aside strands of hair covering half of her face. Your lips find hers. Soft moans escape her lips when you press deeper into her mouth, savouring every bit of sweetness. Hyewon tastes sweet - always does. Something soft yet tangy, reminding you of ripe berries. Your tongues clash together in a sloppy dance of hunger and longing - a mix of lustful passion and simple comfortableness borne from familiarity.

"Not this shit again," she says, lifting herself up. "If I wanted your concern and not just your cock, I'd tell you."

"Hyewon," you whisper her name as you grab her ass. "I've paid your rent for the past two months. I'm gonna be a little concerned." She grabs your chin as soon as you finish speaking.

"Shut the fuck up." She kisses your cheek first, then trails downwards until reaching your collarbone. Teeth lightly scrape over bone before moving towards the base of your throat where they sink firmly into the flesh, eliciting sharp gasps of surprise and discomfort alike.

It hurts so damn bad; but there is no denying it feels so fucking good, too. Every nerve ending in your body lights aflame like fireworks under starless night skies - so bright and vibrant they nearly blind you completely. Pain melts away into pleasure seamlessly - it becomes difficult to distinguish between one sensation and the next.

"Besides, I've made up my mind. You've won," she mutters while nipping her way across your shoulders, dragging her nails down your spine. Her nails leave stinging trails wherever they travel; scratches etched across the expanse of your back, burning hotter than hellfire itself. "I'll do it. Tomorrow I'll call up your guy, set up a meeting - whatever. Okay?" She pauses for a moment, looking directly into your eyes.

It explains the intensity. Normally, it's all so casual, but now she has something to prove.

"Okay."

"Consider this my audition. Now, lie down on the floor." You push off the couch, settling onto the thick carpet, letting Hyewon take control. She positions herself on the edge of her seat on the couch, looking down at you, her expression cold. "Remember the one you told me about last month. When she dominated you?" Hyewon whispers as she places both feet firmly upon you. One at your chest, one at your abdomen, and she presses her dainty feet down heavily, pinning you firmly against the ground beneath her.

"The rich brat roleplay?" you ask.

"Mmm hmm," Hyewon hums affirmatively. She pushes one foot up from your chest and into your face. "Bratty could kinda be my thing."

"First video would be a little simpler, besides, you don't really get to choose -"

"- I do, or it's deal off." She pushes the sole of her foot against your mouth harder. "Now shut up." She uses her toe to pull down your bottom lip, prying open your jaw forcefully. "Get to work."

You shoot her a glare, but ultimately part your lips slightly further apart, allowing access, and you taste her. She seems pleased when you swirl your tongue along her toes - her breath quickens audibly when you suck gently at the top of each digit. The act of obedience excites you as well. There is something so strangely erotic about submitting fully to another's demands.

"That's better," she coos contentedly. Slowly, deliberately, she pushes her other foot down between your legs. She grinds against your hardening cock until it becomes fully erect. "No, you can't use it yet." Hyewon retracts her limb from your mouth and brings it back onto your chest. "Hands behind your head," she instructs sharply. You comply obediently with a muted growl, interlacing your fingers behind your head.

Once again, Hyewon grinds her foot against your cock with a forceful push. A whimper escapes your lips. Your erection throbs beneath her relentless foot and twitches uncontrollably whenever she puts extra pressure on it. She drags her other foot down too. She looks at you with a smirk as if to tell you that this is only just getting started.

"You've been in the industry long enough; ever had a girl do this?" She asks as she positions each foot on either side of your length, sandwiching it firmly between her soles. Hyewon applies more pressure now and starts massaging it with alternating powerful movements. "Well?"

"No," you moan in answer.

Her toes curl and extend repeatedly with each rhythmic motion - back and forth they flex against your swollen cock - until she stops for a moment to rub her big toe up along the underside of the shaft, circling lightly around the tip before coming back down to continue rubbing up against it once more. "Bullshit. I see this all the time in videos."

"You should watch more of my videos."

"I tried," she says so casually. "But then I always think 'I could just go over and fuck him.'" She presses her heel into the base, pushing your cock flat against your pelvis. "Besides, I've seen you cum enough times now that it's only exciting when I get to do it myself." She speaks, she rubs her foot against your cock and the speed builds gradually as she watches you carefully. "Think you can cum like this?"

"I'd much rather do it inside you instead." Hyewon moves her foot faster, grinding harder down on your cock. It makes it increasingly harder to breathe properly. The friction sends shivers running throughout your entire body. Each press sends waves of ecstasy washing over you.

"Not today," Hyewon grunts. "On my feet or not at all."

"Shit." You writhe under her pressure, desperately trying to hold yourself still, to prolong this torture just a few moments longer.

"What? No snarky remark now? I think I like you better when I do this." Hyewon leans forward, positioning her head right above her feet. She spits down onto your cock before rubbing your spit-covered dick between her feet once more. "Whatever turns you on, I suppose."

"Apparently your feet are right now." You arch upwards when Hyewon picks up the pace. "And it's something about the view."

You're looking up at her, perched there and peering down at you with that mocking face she does so well. Her legs are long and smooth; her skin gleams golden in the dim light cast by the lamp beside her. Her thighs ripple enticingly with every pump of her feet against your shaft. And there's the star of it all - her feet. Nails painted white and her soles slick with spit.

Her pace becomes erratic - wild jerks and erratic thrusts become interspersed with firm grasping motions around the sides of your cock as if she intends to milk you dry. She's laughing now. Mocking the way you squirm and twist beneath her. "You're really going to cum on my feet?" Hyewon says through a giggle. You can hear the disbelief in her voice, and it irritates you immensely because, yes, you actually are about to do it.

Your orgasm surges in a violent burst of pure pleasure - you lose complete control then, spilling copious amounts of cum all over Hyewon's pretty little feet.

Her laughter rings out clearly when she sees how badly you've coated them. "Wow!" Hyewon marvels loudly as she wiggles her toes in the substance that's dribbled onto them. "Looks like somebody liked my audition."

-

"Look, we're not going for an epic here. Just ten minutes of chopped-up footage and they'll be throwing money at us," The director’s excited, almost too much so. His speech is fast-paced, and his arms move wildly through the air in sweeping gestures. Hyewon sits across from him, perched on the bed in pose. You're watching from afar. They've given her the real summer vibe. The shorts are denim and shorter than any pair you've seen her pull from her own wardrobe. That tight, orange tank top accents her breasts perfectly. She's got her legs to the side and she's resting on one arm, nodding along at the director's rambling.

She's a pro, she doesn't need this.

"Don't look at the camera. We're going for natural. Remember what we said earlier. This is just two friends having sex." You catch Hyewon rolling her eyes at that. He continues: "Nothing too fancy, just enjoy yourself."

"I've got it, can we start?" You notice the smile creeping up on the director's face as he turns to his cameras.

"She knows what she's doing," you tell him as you approach. "Let's just get started."

"Just fine by me. All set, right?"

"Yeah, we're all ready," you tell him. You climb onto the mattress and lie beside her. "Finally." The words are said low and quietly, almost inaudible under your breath.

"Too many cooks," she mumbles under her breath.

"It's your scene," you tell her. "Take the lead, he won't question it."

The room goes silent, and the director gives his signal. And in an instant, Hyewon changes; her vibe is all ditsy and wide-eyed innocence. "It's so hot here!" Hyewon fans herself, pouting dramatically. "How can anybody live in this weather?" She pulls the hem of her shirt up so slightly as to expose a little more skin.

Is this really the direction she's going? It's a little generic.

"I don't want to wear clothes anymore, Daddy."

Okay, that's unexpected.

Her line delivery is perfect, and the inflexion in her voice suggests an irresistible degree of desperation; a perfect balance of pleading whine, frustration, and underlying lust that sounds entirely genuine. Her hands run over her bare midriff, and she moans quietly; she looks beautiful and vulnerable, helpless without even knowing it.

"We have to leave, baby. Don't do that..." You watch her hands slide over her hips, riding up the material even further, exposing her slim waist.

"I'm not going." She spits out the words and pouts petulantly. "Not until I'm satisfied."

This is different - more fun than her usual performances. She's being playful now; her eyes are lit up and sparkling. You're wondering if she's been holding back on you before now.

"We're leaving." You grab her wrist. An action to which she whines indignantly, shaking free from your grip. Hyewon pushes up higher and climbs atop your lap. She's not messing around anymore. She wastes no time grabbing hold of your hands, guiding them down to her ass.

"Daddy," she repeats. "Daddy..." This time she draws out the words slowly, savouring each syllable; savouring the way your fingertips tremble against her skin. "I'm not leaving. I need you."

She doesn't need prompting to keep going - doesn't need encouragement or coaxing from you. She already has a story in her head, and she's working her hardest to bring it alive. Hyewon reaches between her legs and palms your crotch, squeezing tenderly.

"It's so big," she remarks reverently. She unbuckles your belt quickly, eager anticipation driving every action.

She lifts herself onto her knees before tugging everything off. As soon as your cock springs loose, Hyewon descends upon it greedily - wrapping her soft hand around its thickness and stroking along the entire length.

"I love Daddy's cock."

Fuck, she's really into this, isn't she?

Her thumb caresses along the crown while her fingers close tightly around the shaft. Hyewon begins pumping faster and faster as she works you into hardness. Soon enough, she slips the tip between her parted lips and engulfs it within the warmth of her wet, inviting mouth. She starts sucking slowly, bobbing her head up and down your shaft with a steady rhythm.

"No baby... We need to..."

Hyewon releases your length with a wet pop and stares up at you with wide eyes. There's no hint of shame present within those dark orbs, nor hesitation evident within her flushed cheeks. Only pure eagerness. Hunger. Desire. Lust. Unadulterated need for cock.

A truly compelling act.

"But Daddy... I want it..."

She lowers herself back down over your cock, plump lips stretched wide to accommodate your size. She moves leisurely at first - seemingly content with simply licking lazily around the bulbous tip - but soon enough increases her pace steadily until she bobs eagerly, moaning lewdly around every inch of your girth. Her saliva coats your member liberally as she slathers it lovingly with sloppy, affectionate attention.

"Baby girl..."

She pulls off completely with another loud slurping noise, trailing strings of spit connecting her tongue to your erect pillar of flesh.

"Put it in my pussy, Daddy."

There's that spark in her eyes again, telling you it's alright to follow your instincts. To forget the script altogether. You rise upwards suddenly, grabbing hold of Hyewon's slender frame by her shoulders and pushing her down forcefully onto her back atop the mattress. Hyewon yelps in shock at the sudden movement, staring dumbly at you as you tear her clothes off, tossing them away carelessly.

"W-wait!"

You flip her roughly onto her stomach, then tug her rear upwards to expose her slick centre. She instinctively props herself onto all fours. Her pussy glistens wetly and drips juices down her inner thigh, proof positive of her arousal. "Want to be such a brat, then you'll take it like one."

You grab her ass and do as you have so many times before. You slip yourself into her pussy. You're actually doing it on camera this time. All the sex that happened offscreen, away from the prying eyes of countless people tuning in, is now there to be recorded. This is what will make it onto streaming sites and DVDs and websites - you and her fucking. Her voice rings out loud as you drive yourself deep inside her pussy; groaning aloud at the intense sensation of her walls enveloping your cock.

"Oh, Daddy. So big." She speaks as if entranced. She's playing it up for the camera but it's all so perfect; you can't tell where the act ends and real lust begins.

"Fuck," you hiss through gritted teeth, as you grab her by the waist and plunge deeper. It's not hard to lose yourself within her; you forget about the cameras entirely. Every inch of her velvet folds clamps down tightly around your shaft and squeezes rhythmically around your cock in rippling waves of constrictions.

She feels so hot inside! Her walls cling greedily onto you; begging wordlessly for more stimulation. For more pleasure. And it gets worse (or better) once she starts to move with you.

"H-harder," she tries to demand. It comes out choked and needy despite the strength in her words. "Harder, Daddy." Her body quakes with ecstasy as she struggles vainly to maintain any semblance of control whatsoever. Instead, she resorts to merely clinging to the sheets below, gasping hoarsely whenever your cock spreads her open particularly forcefully. "M-more."

There's nothing quite like stretching her open; the tightness and heat that greets you with each stroke remains remarkable nonetheless, regardless of how many times you've felt it before.

"I knew you could handle it." You smack her ass, the clap of your hand ringing out around the room as she winces loudly in pain. "You know why?" You wrap a hand loosely around her neck, squeezing lightly; Hyewon squeals adorably, her legs shaking violently beneath her. Her breaths come short and ragged through her clenched jaws. "Because you're mine."

You pull her flush against your chest. A camera pans in front of her and sets down low, capturing every twitch her cunt makes when you drag against her walls. Hyewon's mouth falls agape as if frozen in place, eyes wide and wild with desire, staring blankly straight ahead. Sweat forms over her flushed skin like pearls cascading down marble; beads rolling smoothly along the curve of her collarbones.

You hold her like that for a while, fucking up into her hard and fast. She bucks backwards with each thrust; her cute tits bounce for the camera. It's all so performative - the high-pitched shrieks and loud gasps, the whining and mewling constantly tumbling from her parted lips.

The director signals - he has enough footage in that position. So you're guiding Hyewon over to the next. "How's it going so far?" you ask as you guide her to the wall. "Is it just like you imagined?"

"It's just sex," she shrugs. You turn her around and press her back against the wall, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. "Good sex."

She holds herself aloft with surprising strength. Her toned legs coil around your waist snugly while her ankles hook behind your lower back securely. "Ready?" She gives a brisk nod, smiling slyly.

The director counts down, and you're inside her once more. "Ohh Daddy," she coos breathlessly, burying her face into the crook of your neck as her hips gyrate frantically.

"You've made us late," you growl at her as you snap your hips into hers. The thud of flesh slamming against wettened flesh reverberates through the room audibly. Every time your hips connect with hers, Hyewon cries out sweetly. Loudly.

"I don't care. Fuck me." Her nails dig painfully into your back, scoring angry red furrows down your spine. Not that you care, and the fans will love it. "Daddy." It's so over-used, yet somehow never grows stale; possibly because Hyewon's tone carries equal parts lust and malice.

You grab hold of her ass and step back once away from the wall. She leans back, shoulders against the wall and everything else suspended in the air. You take her weight into your hands; she's so light that it hardly takes any effort on your part to hold her aloft like that. Like some sort of erotic art piece, contorted in a sexual pose - the very image of depravity.

You're in complete control. Your thrusts dictate her very existence right now: when you push forward, she takes your entire length willingly; when you withdraw, she begs desperately for your return. 

Each motion elicits wonderful reactions from her; little twitches and convulsions that speak volumes about how badly she needs it. You fuck her like that for a while, suspended in the air. Her toned stomach tenses and her thighs tighten with every stroke. Her breathing quickens and shallows. Her half-lidded gaze fixes on yours intently; pupils dilated hugely as they drink in everything about you. Every grunt, groan or snarl you make seems to send shudders throughout her body.

There's no signal this time. You just lift her, throw her onto the bed and lift her legs into the air, holding her ankles in front of your face. You ram yourself deep into her. Her limbs flail limply in response; her calves lie unresponsive against your shoulders whilst her arms flounder about aimlessly atop the mattress.

It's rough. Violent, even. But Hyewon doesn't care. Far from caring, she welcomes it wholeheartedly. Welcomes every violent, powerful plunge and smack of your body against her thighs. You lean over her, folding her neatly beneath your frame.

"Harder, Daddy, harder," she chants ceaselessly. "Punish me for making us late."

"Open your mouth," you command sternly, pulling out almost entirely. "Stick out your tongue." She does exactly as told without hesitation. You spit into it and push back into her. She accepts both gifts eagerly; and relishes them openly, devouring your essence like candy. She swallows hungrily with an audible gulp and sticks her tongue back out, requesting more.

You spit again. She catches it, closes her mouth, and then you lightly slap her cheek. Not too hard, but enough to jostle her. The surprise causes her eyes to widen momentarily in alarm before quickly relaxing into hazy contentment. A blissful haze settles over her features, glazed eyelids drooping heavily shut.

"Come here." Your fingers thread through her silky black locks and yank hard; she whimpers sweetly at your roughness, tilting her head accordingly towards you obediently. She lets you steer her effortlessly.

Your mouths meet amidst an explosion of fiery passion. There's urgency in the kiss - an insatiable hunger permeating every lick and nibble of lips against tongues clashing together wetly between hungry gasps for air. It escalates quickly: lips parting further apart; teeth clicking accidentally; tongues entwining aggressively; saliva freely exchanging between heated breaths; soft moans rising unchecked.

By now, you have stopped caring about anything besides pounding yourself deeply into her receptive depths; rutting madly into her welcoming core without regard for comfort or safety.

She breaks first; breaking off suddenly with a sharp intake of breath, followed immediately after by an ear-splitting squeal; a keening shriek ripping forth from deep within her chest as she convulses wildly beneath you. Walls spasming uncontrollably around your cock; clutching possessively at every ridge and vein; milking insistently at each inch buried hilt-deep inside her.

There's a finale to it all. You agreed in advance how it should end. She'll take a load for the camera, right on her face. You slow yourself, reluctantly prying her legs off your shoulders and carefully extricating yourself from her clenching core. She looks almost comical in the aftermath. Her usually immaculate appearance utterly ruined - hair sticking messily up in odd directions while strands plaster erratically across her brow, cheeks aflame and glistening damply with sweat trickling from every pore; her lipstick smeared around swollen lips which remain parted in exhausted stupor.

"On your knees, now," you say, pulling her limp frame upright and off the edge of the bed. Her movements are clumsy and shaky, and she stumbles clumsily as you spin her around. Her legs fold under her as she collapses to the ground. But still, her eyes lock onto yours - fixed upon you expectantly; wanting; yearning.

And you stand tall above her, cradling her head gently in your palm. You brush your cock against her cheeks; coating them thickly in her own juices. Rubbing back and forth slowly, sliding up until you rest atop her pouted lips. She kisses the tip as you stroke yourself off above her; you run your fingers soothingly through her tousled locks encouragingly. "Take Daddy's load on your pretty face, baby girl."

Her lashes flutter dreamily as she watches enraptured. Her mouth hangs slightly slack as her hot exhales fan over your sensitive flesh; tickling enticingly. Your own ragged breaths echo throughout the room, perfectly meshing with her soft moans of encouragement as you stroke yourself closer towards climax.

She looks so vulnerable, so small sitting beneath you like this - kneeling submissively on the cold hardwood floor with your slick shaft laid heavily against her chin; staring up at you with such reverence, waiting patiently for your release. The cameras are in close. Waiting for that moment of truth.

Then it finally happens, your breath catching mid-gasp before escaping as a guttural groan.

Your orgasm hits and you release directly across her features; you cum across her lips, her nose, and her cheeks. White ribbons cascade down her visage, dripping obscenely off her jawline. She laps some into her mouth as it passes, but her gaze never wavers. Rather, she remains fixated solely on you; watching, rapt, as you unload across her features in viscous spurts until the last wave eventually washes over your senses and fades away.

You stumble back, and the camera moves in again, zoomed up onto Hyewon. She looks absolutely filthy like this - streaked thickly white across every inch of skin available atop her dainty face. Strands cling delicately atop long lashes and strings hang languidly between her parted lips.

She smiles lazily up at the camera and punctuates it all with a "Thank you, Daddy."

[prael]

Sharing the previously un-shareable

For those that don't know:

I write, a lot. Most of what I write goes un-published, never to be read.

I also have a ko-fi - with a membership where I previously posted sneak-peeks.

So, as of today, I will be posting my previously un-published drafts and they will be accessible through my ko-fi membership.

I just posted a Kyujin fic, and there's another one coming very soon. My intention will be to post un-published drafts multiple times per month.

I will also look at resuming sneak-peeks at upcoming works and also open member requests/polls for quickfire challenges.

[prael]

Drive You Crazy

Aespa Winter x Male Reader // Quickfire Challenge 2

words: 4,988 Masterlist

"That's it. You're so not getting any tonight. I already told you, it's the lighting." There's an inflexion at the end of the sentence. A little indicator, a warning light, Winter's about to raise her voice - lose her cool - and it'll be the second time in as many minutes.

"Did you shave them off?" you ask, leaning in far too close to her brow.

"What?!" she snaps. "I did not shave off my fucking eyebrows."

"Is it some sort of trend? Are people into that? If it is then I don’t think I like it."

"Not only are you not getting any, you're sleeping on the floor." She's trying not to get angry, trying to make this all into a joke, but the way her lips are pursed - and those are still perfect, as ever - means you've pushed her a little too far.

"I don't want to sleep with someone with no eyebrows anyway."

No words this time, only a punch in your left arm. You yelp in mock pain, rubbing your shoulder as though she's actually done any real damage. You start stumbling ahead of her, acting out a limp, and you know she's staring at you with that 'fuck-off-now-or-I'm-actually-gonna-hit-you' expression on her face. "That did not hurt, stop it."

"I'm pretty sure I've got a bruise, look." You turn around, rolling up the sleeve of your t-shirt to expose the skin below. It's not there, obviously, but you wait until Winter's standing beside you before you start laughing. She doesn't find it quite so funny.

"You're so fragile. So easily damaged," she says, walking past you, bumping your shoulder again. Her dress ripples in the gentle breeze that whips up behind the trees to your right, before flowing through, carrying the scent of pine, earth, and fresh grass. A fitting compliment to the lake on your left, and the setting sun above. The sky is painted a vivid red, with a gradient of pink, orange and purple, and the clouds are thin, like wisps of cotton candy.

You follow a few steps behind, plotting your next move, your next opportunity to annoy her. It's a game you love to play because you know that no matter how much she might pretend otherwise, Winter does enjoy it. And it's easy to wind her up, so easy. "Hey, can we go for a swim? It looks like it's really warm."

"No," she says, not even bothering to look back at you.

"God, you're so boring." You catch up to her, walk side by side, and wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, kissing her on the temple, just below her hairline. "But you are the prettiest girl here, I'll give you that."

"Shut up, I'm the only girl here," she says, though the hint of a smile appears. "I'm boring for not wanting to throw myself in a lake filled with who knows what."

"Fish," you say.

"Exactly."

"And plants, and water..."

"Thank you for clearing that up."

"Don't mention it."

"You're an ass, do you know that?"

"So you keep telling me."

"Yeah, well, maybe one day you'll start believing me."

"Maybe."

The two of you continue walking along the dirt path, through the trees, and out towards the clearing. Winter's arm has made its way around your waist, and now the two of you are walking in time, matching strides, the sound of your steps on the gravel echoing in a pattern that becomes almost rhythmic. You're close to your cabin now, just a few more minutes and you'll be able to throw off your shoes and fall onto the bed, pull her down with you, and-

"I'm gonna take a bath," Winter says.

"Funny, I was just thinking something similar."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah, I was thinking you could take a bath right now." You bend and scoop Winter up into your arms, lifting her from her feet and holding her tight against your chest. She lets out a loud, high-pitched scream, but it's followed by a laugh.

"What are you doing? Put me down."

"Nope." You're already moving, already half-running, and as her hands come to rest on the side of your neck, you feel her fingers pressing hard into your skin, trying to keep her balance.

"Are you serious?"

"Always," you reply.

"You're such a dumbass. If you drop me-"

"Gonna drop you alright." You veer left before you reach the cabin, stepping onto the pier and out towards the middle of the lake, ignoring the screams of protest from Winter.

"You are not dropping me in there, I swear to God, if you do, I'm leaving you. I will never-"

You cut her off, letting her drop into the water with a splash, and you stand there, watching as her head pops out from beneath the surface, hair flat against her forehead, sticking to her cheeks. "It's freezing cold, you shit!" She yells.

"What? You were looking a little hot, figured a dip in the lake would cool you down."

"I hate you." She splashes water in your direction.

"Oh, you don't mean that," you reply, bending at the knees, peering over the edge of the dock. She's wiping her hair from her face, and there's a glare, a dark shadow cast across her features that makes you think you've gone a step too far.

"Get in," she says, grabbing your ankles and pulling.

"Winter! Don't-" You're falling before you have time to finish the sentence, and the world seems to move in slow motion, the water approaching as if it's coming to a stop for you, rather than the other way around. You break the surface, spluttering, coughing. "It's fucking freezing."

"That's what I just said."

"Yeah, well," you try to catch your breath, "I guess I was too busy admiring how hot you were to pay any attention."

"Don't start saying nice things after you've already dunked me in here. I'll never believe you again."

"Come here."

"Why?"

"Just, come here." You reach out, grabbing her hand, and pulling her towards you.

"We're gonna get hypothermia," she snaps.

"I'll warm you up."

Your hands meet her hips, and she wraps her legs around your waist, her arms around your neck. It's an embrace that's been repeated a thousand times, but one you know will never become repetitive. The way her lips move against yours is always exciting, always fresh, as if it's the first time all over again. And when you feel her tongue slip inside your mouth, and her fingers tangle themselves in your hair, there's nothing in the world you want more.

"You're an asshole, you know that?" Winter says.

"I know."

"But you're my asshole."

"I know."

You kiss her again, and as her teeth gently bite your bottom lip, your grip on her tightens.

"Let's get back to the cabin," she whispers.

"Why?"

"Because," she says, "I want to fuck you."

"I thought I wasn't getting any tonight."

"Shut up already, will you?"

-

You leave a trail of water in your wake. Through the doorway, over the hardwood floor, making a trail to the bathroom. There are puddles on the carpet, droplets of water clinging to your skin, and goosebumps covering both your bodies. You feel them on her as you peel the dress from her body. Light fabric, sodden and made heavy, clinging to her every curve, and every crease, until it's a puddle on the floor.

"You're a mess," she says, and there's a playful grin on her face.

"Me?" You look down, running your eyes over her naked form. "Yeah, right. Look at you. Think we washed off whatever was left of your eyebrows, though."

She hits you with the palm of her hand, and then her arms are wrapped around your neck, her lips pressed against yours. You step forward, pushing her into the shower and then you reach out, palming against the wall and searching for the knob. Water cascades from the ceiling, and your eyes are open, staring straight into Winter's as her hand grips your wrist, pulling it downwards, pressing your fingers against her. You're smiling, and she is too.

"Is this the part where I'm not getting any?" You ask, and her response is a roll of her eyes and a shake of her head.

"It's the part where you stop talking." She kisses you again, and you're more than happy to comply. Her tongue slips into your mouth, your finger into her cunt, and it's hot, wet, and desperate - the kiss and the cunt. It's the latter that has you weak at the knees.

You press her against the tiled wall, her back arching away from the cold surface. The shower's a tight squeeze, and the steam and spray are starting to fill the small space, but the water's warm, and Winter's warmer. And as you slip another finger inside her, her eyes flutter closed and her nails dig into the back of your neck, dragging along the skin.

You're at her neck now, an assault on her senses. Tongue and teeth and lips and hands, all working together to coax out moans, gasps, and whispers. "Don't stop." You hear her say, and it's not as if you could, or would.

It's the little things that make you want to worship her. The way her breath catches when you suck on her pulse point, the way her nails dig harder, her hands grab tighter, the way she starts rolling her hips and grinding against the heel of your palm. You curl your fingers, push in deeper, and feel her clench, tightening around them.

You've got her fucking planted against the wall. Water runs down her naked form. Rolling down those shoulders; a cascade over her breasts; flowing over her toned stomach that tightens ever more by the second; dripping off her thighs, which are spread wide, and shaking with each thrust of your fingers. And, finally, the rivulets of water that stream down her back, her ass, her legs.

You pull her into another kiss, and the noises she's making are driving you crazy. Her moans, her pants, her curses. And the way her lips tremble and her jaw quivers. "Fuck, keep going, just like that," she whispers, and your heart skips a beat, and the throbbing between your legs becomes almost painful.

You know she's getting close. She always gets the same look on her face. That expression of pleasure mixed with pain like the feeling's almost too much, but it's just enough. And when she cums, she throws her head back, and her hands ball into fists. And the only sound she makes is a gasp, and her body goes rigid, her walls tighten, and you feel her cumming against your fingers, and then her knees buckle and you have to catch her, hold her steady.

"You're always so easy," you tease, and her eyes open. She's looking at you like she wants to punch you, or fuck you, or both. Maybe.

"No, I'm not." There's that signature furrow of her brow, that telltale crease.

"So easy," you repeat.

"I'll show you easy," she says, and the next thing you know, your back's against the tiles and her mouth is on yours.

And, oh, does she show you.

-

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

You're lying beside each other, the sheets pulled up, barely covering the two of you. Your bodies are entwined, your limbs tangled, and Winter's head rests on your chest, her ear against your chest, listening to the rhythmic thump of your heartbeat.

"Talk about what?" Winter asks.

"Well, we've never done that before."

"We have sex all the time," she says quizzically.

"That wasn't just sex," you reply.

"My ass?" She looks up at you.

"Your ass." You nod, smiling. "That was.... new. How was it? Did it hurt?"

"You know, the fact that you're asking questions and not making jokes is kinda weirding me out. Don't think it's going to be a regular thing, okay?" Winter rolls off your chest and onto her back, her head resting on her own pillow, eyes fixed on the ceiling. "How was it for you?"

"Unexpected. Hot."

"You can stop trying to play it cool. I saw you back there, losing your mind while you fucked my ass."

"You're the one who came so hard that she nearly passed out."

"Shut up," she laughs. "Go to sleep. And don't even think about touching me in the morning. My ass hurts."

"I could kiss it better."

"Fuck off," she says, slapping your arm, but there's a smile on her lips, and then she shuffles closer to you, draping an arm over your stomach.

-

"Last day," Winter sighs as she looks out onto the lake from the balcony, her arms folded across the railing as she leans forward against it. The metal is cool on her exposed stomach. She's wearing one of your shirts and nothing else, and the way the morning breeze ripples against it sends a chill running up her spine. The sun is already warming her skin though, and the coolness is more than welcome.

"Not ready to leave?" you ask from inside the cabin, still packing the clothes you brought with you.

"I'm not sure," she replies, turning her head, and watching you fold a t-shirt and place it into the suitcase that sits open on the bed. "I do miss my own bed, but I'm not sure I want to go back to reality yet."

"Reality can wait another few hours, don't you think?" you ask as you approach her on the balcony, wrapping your arms around her from behind, your hands resting on her stomach, pulling her closer.

"I guess," she says. "We'll leave and then be replaced by some other young couple that will fuck all day, every day."

"Is that a hint of jealousy I detect?"

"No, not at all," she says, rolling her eyes. "I'm not the jealous type."

"I think you might be," you say, pressing a kiss against the back of her neck, just below her hairline. "Remember when we were in that bar, and the bartender kept winking at me?"

"How could I forget? I wanted to smash my bottle over her head."

"Point proven." Another kiss and your fingers begin to play with the edge of the shirt. "So, we have a few hours left. Want to go for a walk somewhere? Maybe we can see where the trails go today?"

"Maybe you can get down on your knees?"

"You want to waste the last day of vacation in bed?"

"Sex with a view? Yes please." Winter pulls your hand onto her ass, and you can feel her smile when you press your lips against the back of her neck again. "You can't say you don't like the idea."

"That doesn't mean it's not a waste." You reply, trailing kisses on her neck, and along her shoulders.

"So you don't want to fuck me against that balcony?"

"Don't get it twisted. I'm going to fuck you against that balcony." You run a hand up from her hip, over her toned stomach, underneath the shirt, until it meets her breast. It fits perfectly like it was made just for you, and you feel her hardening nipple press against your palm.

"Then stop talking and put that mouth of yours to work."

"I'm gonna eat you until your legs give out," you whisper into her ear. She lets out a soft gasp just before you slide down to your knees, your hands on her ass. "Hands on the railing."

"Why?"

"Just, trust me," you reply. You hear a faint giggle and then feel her shift slightly, the skin of her palms pressing against the metal bars of the railing.

You push up the shirt, bunching it at the small of her back, baring her cute ass to the world. You plant kisses on her right cheek, biting gently, dragging your teeth across her smooth flesh. Your hands run down the backs of her thighs, fingers trailing up the inside until they reach their destination, her wet cunt. You feel the heat first, the warmth emanating from her, the dampness between her thighs. Your thumb runs along her slit and her legs buckle ever so slightly, her grip tightening on the railing.

You start slow, your thumb parting her, the tip running along her folds, stopping just short of her clit before repeating the pattern. She lets out a breathy moan, her body already responding to your touch. You continue to adorn her ass in kisses, your tongue leaving wet patches on her soft skin.

Winter rolls her hips, pushing herself against you. "Not quite the knee-buckling orgasm I was promised."

"You're so needy." You smile and take firm hold of her ass with both hands. "And annoying." You spread her open and run the flat of your tongue from the front to the back. She moans again, her back arching, pushing her ass further out, and you do the same thing once more, and again, and again. Until she's whining, and the muscles in her stomach tighten.

You eat Winter's ass as if you were starved of her like you hadn't already spent days doing exactly that, as if her taste were a drug you'd gone too long without. You lose yourself in her. You forget the world around the two of you. You're barely aware of your surroundings anymore; all that matters is having your face buried between her cheeks, your tongue in her hole, and the sounds coming out of her mouth. You're drunk on her.

"Fuck!" she moans. Her knuckles are turning white, and you know that she's trying to stop herself from reaching behind her, pulling you into her, grabbing fistfuls of your hair, and forcing you deeper.

You take a moment of respite, planting kisses over her soft cheeks. "You're gonna wake up the entire forest if you keep making noise," you say.

"Don't stop," she replies.

"Wasn't planning on it."

You dip back down, running your tongue over her hole, pressing harder this time. Her body shakes and shudders as she fights to stay upright. Her thighs are shaking and she's clenching, and you feel the pressure of her ring tightening as if she were trying to pull your tongue in.

The sun is beating down on both of you now, and the sweat rolls down your back. You can taste it on her too. A sheen on her skin, kissed by the morning sunlight, and there are droplets of sweat collecting in the dimples above her ass, which you make sure to kiss, too.

"Oh fuck, keep going." Winter's head drops and her hair cascades around her face. You reach around her, finding her pussy soaking, dripping. You dip your fingers in, pushing them past her folds. She's tight and wet, and so hot that it almost feels like your fingers might melt. Almost. Her hips buck and her breathing quickens. "Don't you fucking stop."

"Not planning to," you reply, muffled, your face pressed against her.

So here you are, middle of a forest, on the balcony of a rented cabin that feels as if it's a million miles away from society. Your girlfriend is standing with both hands gripping the metal bars of the balcony railing, naked, her head down, hair everywhere, back arched and pushing her ass back against your face. You're on your knees, hands on her hips, fingers inside her. Your mouth, lips, and tongue are worshipping her in a way that feels almost religious. And you wouldn't have it any other way.

She's going to cum. It's some sort of cosmic truth that you can feel, in the same way you know the sun is going to set tonight, and the moon will appear. She's going to cum on your fingers and on your tongue. She's going to shake and scream, and she'll have to sit down when you're done with her.

"Oh, I'm so close," she moans.

You don't respond. You simply redouble your efforts. You curl your fingers and you drag the tip of your tongue over her sensitive hole. Her breathing is ragged, and she's losing her mind. The muscles in her ass and thighs are tightening and her back is arched so hard that it looks painful. You feel her clench, and then her entire body is spasming as if electricity is coursing through her veins.

Winter lets out a string of curses as she cums on your fingers, your hand, your arm, the floor - she's making a mess of everything. And when it finally passes, and she's standing, shaking, you stand too, wrap her in your arms and pull her into an embrace. "I think my legs actually went weak." She's breathing hard and there are tears in her eyes, and she's looking at you with that same expression she always has after she's cum.

"Told you," you say.

"Yeah, well," she breathes hard, looking out over nature's beauty. "I'm still standing." You kiss the back of her neck again and you can't help but smile. It's the smile that only Winter can put on your face, and as the sun climbs higher in the sky, you're happy to be spending your days in this little piece of heaven.

"Good. It would have been a real shame if you gave up already. We have a whole morning, after all." You pull her shirt (Your shirt? The details are meaningless.) up roughly and expose her lithe body to the world. You pull it at her neck, using the bunched-up fabric to hold her in place. You press into the small of her back, bend her over the railing, and your hand wanders down to her hip.

"I'm surprised you have anything left to give after this week." Winter chuckles and pushes her ass against you. "Drained you dry and then some."

-

"Just keep your eyes on the road, will you?" Winter snaps.

"Kinda difficult with you doing that," you say.

"I mean it. Don't you dare crash. I don't want to be in the news as the idol who crashed with her boyfriend's cock in her mouth."

"It's not even in your mouth."

"Not yet." She flashes a mischievous smile as she strokes you.

"We've been on the road for less than twenty minutes and you're already on me," you laugh. "You can barely go an hour without me inside you."

"You weren't complaining earlier when I was riding you."

"I wasn't driving a high-speed hunk of metal down the highway then. , take it easy."

"I don't think I can. I've got my hands on your big cock, how am I meant to control myself?" Winter's hand runs down the entire length, from base to tip. "I just want it in me all the time."

"I'll pull over, okay?"

"Don't pull over." Winter's hand is replaced by her head in your lap. "Eyes on the road."

"Fuck," you say, as her tongue swirls around the tip. You can feel her hand gripping your cock tight. Her lips slide down to meet it. She's wet, warm, and so inviting that you find your eyes drifting down to watch, only to have to look back to the road.

Winter doesn't take your entire length in one go, no, she takes her time, teasing the tip of your cock before licking the entire length, base to top. It's a game for her, a game you love, but a game nonetheless. She wants you to cum, but she wants to drag it out for as long as she can.

Your hands are gripped tightly around the wheel, knuckles white. The urge to grab her head and push her down on your cock, to gag her with it, to have her choke on it, to use her pretty little face for nothing more than her own pleasure, it's overwhelming. "Just let me pull over," you say.

"No time. Eyes on the road."

The next ten minutes seem to last an hour. Winter's mouth is doing its magic, taking you deeper with every movement, taking more and more until the entire thing is down her throat. You hear her gag on it, feel the vibrations against the head, and your cock throbs in her mouth.

She pulls up with a pop and a gasp for air, and then she's at it again, bobbing up and down on it, her spit running down the sides of the shaft.

"Shit, keep doing that," you whisper. Winter's tongue runs over the head of your cock, and you're struggling to concentrate, but then it stops - the contact gone. "Fuck, Winter. Come on, I'm so close."

"I know." She says. "That's why I stopped." There's a glint in her eye, something you recognise.

"Oh come on, are you seriously-"

"Yep," she cuts you off, sitting back in the passenger seat. "My turn." She unbuttons her jeans and shimmies them down off her hips. Just enough so she can slip a hand under them.

"That's it. I'm pulling over."

"No! We'll be late. You have to keep driving," Winter moans as she begins to touch herself. Her legs spread wider and you watch her out of the corner of your eye.

"Winter..."

"I said eyes on the fucking road," she growls, her fingers picking up pace.

It's the most awkward fifteen minutes of your life, and it feels like you spend more of the time staring at her than at the road. Winter is panting, gasping, moaning. She's grinding her hips into the seat and she's thrown her head back, eyes shut, mouth agape. And her fingers are working her pussy like she's possessed.

She puts her leg up on the dash and sinks deeper into the seat. You can see how wet her cunt is from here. It glistens with the juices dripping out of her. Her nipples are poking through her shirt, and you want to pull over and fuck her brains out, but she keeps telling you no, so instead, you watch her finger herself in the passenger seat.

Winter's close, you can tell. Her breathing is shallow and ragged, and she's mumbling something under her breath, too quiet for you to hear. Her body starts to tremble and shake, and you're half-watching, half-driving when she finally cums. Hard. And she screams, and you swerve, and someone behind you blares their horn, and you can barely breathe. She looks like a mad woman. She's still writhing, grinding, and panting, her fingers rubbing circles on her clit, her back arching.

"This is torture," you whisper, eyes glued back to the road, heart thumping, palms sweating.

"I think I'm going to pass out," Winter breathes, slumping down in her seat. "Fuck that felt good."

"Great, now how about a fucking hand here?" you laugh, gesturing at your dick. It's throbbing, and aching, and it needs to be touched.

"Oh, right." She's out of breath, but she manages to pull her pants back on, button them up, and crawl back into your lap, her fingers wrapping around your shaft. "Guess I forgot."

"How convenient."

Winter wraps her lips around your cock again, and this time, she's more eager. Her tongue swirls around the tip while she moves her head up and down. You feel the pressure building in your abdomen, and the world is starting to blur. It's just her and her pretty pink lips wrapped around you. Her tongue is hot and wet and so fucking soft. And she's sucking you. She's moaning with your cock in her mouth, and it's sending waves of pleasure throughout your body.

"You're hungry," you grunt.

"Mm-hmm," Winter responds. She shifts onto her knees on the passenger seat, her cute ass in the air and her mouth wrapped around your dick. Everyone you overtake could just glance over and see her. Tight jeans and a tighter ass; they'd be hard-pressed to look away. But you're not going to be pressing anything except her face into your cock. Your hand finds its way to the back of her head and you push down gently until the entire length is in her mouth.

"Winter..." you grunt with one hand on the wheel and one in her hair. She bobs her head, and you feel her gag and choke. Spit dribbles down the corners of her mouth and onto your lap, and her eyes water, but she doesn't stop, she just keeps going, and you feel yourself building up, getting closer.

Winter moans around you and the vibration sends shockwaves through you. It's so hard not to thrust up into her. She gags, and you feel the head of your cock hitting the back of her throat.

"Fuck, just like that. Keep doing that." Your knuckles are white, and Winter's eyes are watering. Your fingers grip her hair tighter, pushing down on her, and her eyes roll back, her body trembling.

You cum in her mouth. Your entire body tenses up, and the road disappears. Your eyes are shut, and your back arches off the chair, and your hand grips her head. You fill that pretty mouth with your hot cum. She sucks it down, greedily swallowing it all.

Your eyes snap open. You're lucky. You didn't crash. You're still on the road, and you're alive, and you've just cum harder than ever.

"Better?" Winter asks, popping off of you.

"Much better." You say, trying to regain your composure.

"Good." She smiles at you, wiping at her chin. "How'd you like to get home late?"

"Oh, so now we're pulling over?" You laugh. You find a turn and take it, then another, until you're parked, overlooking a field. Winter's hands are already exploring under your shirt, and she's kissing your neck.

"Gonna ride you so hard that you can't think straight for the rest of the day."

[prael]

Conciliation

ILLIT Moka x Yunah // part 2 to Punishment

words: 6,035 Masterlist

Two weeks have gone by. Two weeks since the incident in their dorm room. For Yunah, it's as though that night never happened. It was just some afterthought that had been shoved down in the deep corners of her memory, as though she would sooner forget and have Moka pretend it was nothing at all.

Moka thinks of nothing else.

She thinks about it in her classes, daydreaming when she should be practising. Rehearsals have become a stop-start procedure, with everyone turning to Moka with the same question: are you okay? She feels so pathetic. Embarrassed at herself, but still thinking, wondering, wishing, that maybe tonight might be that night; that Yunah might snap at some point and give her just a single touch.

She's thought about doing it again, just the same way, touching herself while Yunah is around. Even the mere idea has Moka wet with shame. It would work, surely, it has to work. Then Moka talks herself out of it. Doing it again, trying to instigate a reaction, she may as well just confess, beg, and plead with Yunah. Admit that she likes her. Tell her just how crazy it makes Moka when she walks around the room in only a t-shirt and panties. When she shakes her hair loose out of a ponytail, her brunette hair cascades in the moonlight, looking so soft and thick, and Moka can't get over her.

They're on their way out of the country, for another big show. Another sleepless night spent travelling. Another opportunity for Yunah to glare at Moka when she's obviously not focused or too busy stumbling through her moves. Another opportunity for her to sit there, only her and her dirty, little thoughts.

There's a slight turbulence, enough to make the sleeping Yunah move in her seat, her head rolling to the side. She looks peaceful and beautiful. That same fringe she's so particular about always ends up in her eyes, so naturally, Moka wants to reach up and push it away, but she forces herself back, that's the last thing she wants; to wake her and look suspicious.

"Not sleeping?" A voice from the other side, makes Moka tear her eyes away from Yunah and find Minju. Minju gives a curious look at Yunah before returning her gaze to Moka.

"Can't sleep," Moka confesses with a sigh.

Minju doesn't reply at first, the look she is giving, makes Moka believe she is contemplating whether she should share or not. "Me neither. Keep thinking about tomorrow."

Moka hums a vague affirmative in response. She wants to appear agreeable and that she isn't preoccupied with the thoughts of someone else.

Minju gives her a wry smirk. "What about you? You keep spacing out."

Her question strikes a chord in Moka. For some reason, she can't deny it or lie about what's been going through her head, and even when she should probably deny it, Moka still finds herself talking about her. "Have you ever liked someone who hated your guts? Like so much it physically hurts," Moka can't help the questions slipping past her lips. It's pathetic really. She should know better, and she knows she's saying too much and too openly, but it's not her fault. She just can't handle it all, not for another minute.

"Are you saying there's a guy you like?" Minju asks, which at least offers Moka the reassurance that the others haven't realised what's going on; why else would she ask that? "You know we're not allowed to date anyone, Moka."

"I know, and I'm not going to date anyone, but I can still like someone, right?"

Minju laughs. "Yeah, you can do what you like," she replies while stealing another look at the older girl across from them, sleeping. "So why does he hate your guts then?"

"Well, I—"

Yunah sighs, breaking the conversation as the pair suddenly falls quiet. They freeze like deer caught in the headlights of a car as Yunah, shifts in her seat, adjusting her position before relaxing again. There is a relief between them, letting out a heavy breath at the realisation that their friend is still very much asleep.

"Lucky her," Minju finally says, shaking her head. "I can't wait for us all to be back in our hotel rooms and having some proper sleep." Minju sighs, turning back to Moka. "You were saying?"

"Oh, it's nothing. Don't worry about it, forget I said anything," Moka rambles. She finds herself silently cursing herself. If the truth of her desires slipped and spilt out, there's no telling what kind of trouble she would be in. But Minju looks at her in a strange sort of understanding, nodding and giving her a reassuring smile.

Moka returns the sentiment and lays her head on her friend's shoulder. Her heartbeat starts to slow down, and as time passes, sleep draws in, luring her into its clutches, and at last, her eyelids flutter shut.

-

It's 4 am and they're shambling into the hotel lobby, weary, eyes burning, muscles tired, with sore shoulders and legs.

"We've booked rooms for you all. We just went with the same arrangement as the dorm," the manager explains, sending Moka's heart crashing. She and Yunah. Of course. She nods weakly and trudges to the lift alongside her members.

Yunah opens the door, and Moka follows. They haven't spoken a word to each other. The moment the hotel door is closed, and Moka drops her bag on the floor, Yunah takes off her jacket, hanging it on a hook. Moka slips her shoes off, trying her hardest not to make eye contact.

"Moka?"

Fuck. Why couldn't she just walk past without saying anything? Moka's cheeks feel hot. Why now? She glances up, and the look she receives from Yunah doesn't give anything away.

"What's gotten into you? Are you sick?" She snaps, walking right up to her. A rough hand takes hold of her chin, forcing her face up and it shocks Moka so much that it knocks her off her axis for a moment.

There she is. Again. So close. It takes a moment, or three, to figure out what she even said. Moka goes to shake her head, but with her face being held so firmly in place, it's impossible. "No, I'm fine." She swallows. "Just a little nervous."

"Why are you lying to me?"

Her face is still gripped, she's forced to keep eye contact with her and she hates it. She hates that her skin prickles as Yunah's beautiful gaze pours down.

"Whatever," Yunah says incredulously, her hand holding Moka's jaw. Moka nods as best as she can and then she's released. She misses her touch the moment Yunah's hand is gone and she's left to drop her head. "We can't have you being distracted tomorrow. Just get it together."

The older girl retreats into the bathroom, closing the door and leaving a disgruntled Moka alone. She could scream, but instead, she swallows down her frustration.

Moka undresses and slips into her shorts and tank top. She flops onto the soft covers and waits. Curses and empty wishes run through her mind; her fist tightens into a frustrated ball and her eyebrows furrow. How is she supposed to do anything like this? How can she think about anything other than her?

Soon, Yunah returns, but all Moka gets from her is silence, nothing, absolutely nothing, and yet here she is, lying and waiting. Pathetic, it's downright fucking pathetic. She takes a deep breath and lets herself turn and stare at her back. "Yunah?"

"What?"

"Why did you make me feel good?"

"You talk about that like it meant something," Yunah responds, turning her attention away from her phone. Her beautiful hair fans out against the pillow.

"Did it?"

Yunah responds with her own question, "Did you want it to?"

"Yeah."

"Sorry." She turns her attention back to her phone, effectively dismissing her and the conversation altogether.

"Please—"

"Goodnight, Moka," Yunah bites. Her tone leaves no more room for discussion. No room for questioning.

Moka clamps her mouth shut, squeezing her eyes tightly closed. What more could she say? How many ways could she plead with her before it becomes demeaning? But the silence in her room makes the ache between her thighs feel unbearable and impossible to ignore.

It's nearly an hour later when Moka gives in, dipping her hands between her legs. She rubs against the front of her shorts and shudders as she teeters on the brink of losing her senses and giving in to her desires. But the bed shifts, the sheets move, and she stops.

Yunah rolls over and she looks at Moka, as though expecting her to do something, anything. The eye contact alone has Moka feeling so small and helpless.

"Do it," Yunah whispers.

"W-what?"

"I know you want to. These past weeks you've been so distracted. I know you're always thinking of it, of what happened, what I did. I see the way you look at me."

"I... I'm sorry."

Yunah rolls her eyes. "Just do it."

"But you hate it. It makes you uncomfortable, I can't—" Yunah cuts Moka off as she moves closer, she slips her fingers past the waistband of Moka's shorts, down to the wet warmth of her cunt. "Yunah," she whimpers. Moka bites her lip to hold in the noises, but it's impossible to stay silent as Yunah runs teasing touches over her lips, threatening to slip between them.

"You can't do it, can you? Not on your own, not since I've touched you." She says it so plainly that Moka can't help but agree. She knows the truth. "But you don't want to ask for my help because you know I'll just say no. So here I am, doing it for you." Yunah's finger slides between Moka's lips and runs up to her clit. It makes Moka gasp. "Think about why that is. Why would I want to help you?" she murmurs as her fingers circle the hard, little nub.

"I don't know." The words are barely audible.

"I think you do," Yunah says and then her fingers go away.

"No, don't stop."

"I know it's hard, Moka," Yunah whispers. Her fingers are back. They're running through the lips of Moka's cunt, sliding easily, making the skin slick and sensitive. Moka can hardly think as the fingers run up and down, stroking and teasing, edging closer to the opening. "But I need you to say it."

"Because," Moka chokes out. Her head is spinning, and she feels so dizzy. She can hardly form a single thought. All she knows is how good she feels, how desperate she is for those fingers. "You like making me feel good. Because you want it just as bad."

"Because I want it, Moka," Yunah whispers, pushing a single finger into Moka's tight entrance. It sinks in so deep and she moans. She's so fucking sensitive. The feeling of the finger as it enters and stretches her, the feeling as it curls inside, the way it moves slowly and deliberately, is enough to have her trembling. Yunah has to lean in and put her mouth by Moka's ear. "I can't get the fucking thought of you out of my head."

"Oh god."

The words have the desired effect and Yunah's hand moves faster, the thrusts come harder and Moka is completely helpless. Her body starts to arch, her back rises off the mattress and her chest is pulled upwards as if offering herself to the other girl. Her little chest rises, her nipples hardening under the material of her top. Yunah looks at her body and smiles. She pushes a second finger inside, her thumb begins to work her clit and Moka's hands are holding tight to the pillow behind her.

Moka doesn't care that she's moaning, or that she can't stop saying her roommate's name. All that she cares about is how her body is starting to clench, how her hips are bucking and how her legs have gone so rigid, and it's just the best feeling, the best thing that she's ever experienced in her life. Moka opens her eyes and finds Yunah staring. Her face is so close; Moka wants her closer.

She has the overwhelming desire to taste Yunah's lips, but not the strength to pull her down, so she settles for the fingers inside of her and the hand that keeps working her cunt until the orgasm comes.

Moka pulls the pillow tight around her head, muffling the sound that spills from her mouth. She feels her walls tightening around Yunah's digits, her entire body clenching and shaking, and her eyes rolling back. She's so close.

Yunah climbs over her, kneeling between her slender thighs and her fingers never leave. They're so deep. The pressure is too intense. She feels the walls inside of her start to tighten, the heat growing inside her. Moka's head turns and buries into the pillow she holds onto for dear life.

"Look at me, Moka," she coos, leaning into her. "I said look at me."

Yunah takes Moka's hand, prying it away from the pillow. Powerless to resist, Moka's arm is pushed above her head, and then the other. They're placed together, held under Yunah's grasp and Moka's head is free and forced to look at the beautiful woman on top of her, forced to see those deep brown eyes and that gorgeous hair, that pretty face with the full lips, the perfect lips, the ones Moka wishes were pressed against her. But that would be too much. Moka would never want anything more ever again. If she kisses her then it's game over, all she would ever need would be right here. Moka could never think about anyone or anything other than her, ever again.

Moka's stomach tightens, and her face contorts. She lies there helplessly as she is overcome, and the climax hits. She can't help it. She's moaning so loudly and she's clenching around Yunah's fingers. Her legs shake and her arms try to pull themselves away, to have something to cling to. But she can't move. All Moka can do is give into the pleasure. It washes over her, the sensation coursing through her body, making her toes curl.

She leaks messily onto Yunah's hand. The sounds of wetness fill her ears, the lewd, squelching noises as the fingers continue to work her pussy, fucking her through the high and prolonging the sensation until her mind blanks, her body convulses and her voice breaks into a pathetic whine. Moka's head thrashes back and forth, and she's crying, sobbing out loud.

She's left panting, chest heaving as she looks at Yunah who's smiling. That beautiful smile, the one she loves to see.

"You're so pretty when you cum, Moka." She says it most sweetly, and her eyes seem so sincere. Moka wants to kiss her more than ever, and she wants Yunah to feel good too, just like she did. But her body feels like jelly and she can barely move. So she can only lay there and try to catch her breath.

Yunah lowers, laying her head on Moka's chest, her ear pressing gently to her heart, as though listening to it. Her body still twitches and shakes and her legs remain spread with Yunah still nestled between them. Moka tries to calm herself, and she can feel Yunah's breathing slow and soften, her weight shifting on top of her.

"I'm sorry, Moka. For ignoring you, but I knew this would happen. I knew that once I gave in, I wouldn't be able to stop," she murmurs. Moka can only manage a hum in reply. She doesn't even understand what Yunah means, not really, she can barely understand her words. Yunah puts her hand on her waist and slips her own pyjama shorts over her hips and down her long legs. She kicks them off and they're left tangled up at the foot of the bed.

It's when Yunah raises her head from Moka's chest that Moka realises what's happening. Yunah slips her fingers into the waistband of her shorts, pulling them down and off of her legs and throwing them aside. Moka feels so exposed. She can't hide the fact she's blushing, that she's so nervous, that this is what she's been waiting for, what she's wanted.

Yunah pulls her own shirt over her head and throws that off the bed too, and now Moka's staring. Tight and toned. Perky. It's like she can't help but let her eyes roam. She's the most perfect girl in the world. Moka's hands reach up to her, running along the curves of Yunah's body, the smoothness of her skin. Her thumbs brush over her nipples, feeling them harden and rise.

Yunah sighs, and Moka wants to make her do that again. She wants to hear all her pretty noises, just like Yunah said she loved hearing hers. So, she sits up and her hands go around Yunah, holding onto her, bringing her closer. She's so tall. Moka's face presses into her chest and she breathes against her, feeling the heat and inhaling the sweet scent of her.

Moka is so nervous. So anxious that she will do something wrong. She has to force herself to lift her head and part her lips, to lean forward and place her mouth over the stiff, little peak on Yunah's breast. She sucks, pulling it in, feeling the way it moves, the way Yunah lets out a breath and the hand that comes up to her hair. Fingers run through her black locks, nails drag along her scalp, and Moka moves her head to the other, repeating the motion, sucking the skin, flicking her tongue over it and pulling it with her lips.

Yunah moans and the grip tightens, she holds her head, and the other arm wraps around Moka. Reassurance in the form of a touch. It tells her she's doing well, that Yunah's liking it. That's all that matters. Moka wants her to like it, she wants to please her, and she wants to know how to make her feel good. She smiles against her smooth skin, placing kisses, licks, and bites all over her. Appreciation for this girl and her beautiful, wonderful body.

Then Moka finds herself lying on her back. Yunah climbs on top of her and Moka's heart thuds hard against her chest. This is everything she's wanted.

"Don't freak out," she whispers, her breath against Moka's face.

"Never."

Yunah shifts her weight and then Moka feels it, the wet heat of Yunah's cunt against hers, and the sensation of her body on hers. Moka looks down at their bodies and can see the point of their connection, where their skin meets. The sight of it alone makes her mouth go dry, her stomach flips, and it takes all her strength to keep herself together. And then Yunah rocks her hips, grinding against Moka, her slick pussy rubbing against Moka's. The sensation of her skin moving, her wetness, it makes Moka's eyes roll back.

"Yunah..." Moka gasps, her body arching, and Yunah pushes her down.

She does it again, and again, sliding against her, pushing her hips hard. Her breathing is growing faster, and heavier, and her moans are so quiet. Sparks ignite in her lower body. The pressure, the heat. It feels so good to have Yunah against her like that.

Yunah leans down and buries her face in the crook of her neck and she kisses and nibbles at her skin there, whispering against the spot. "Why does this feel so good?"

"I don't know," Moka gasps. She's losing her breath already. She's panting and she feels so hot and dizzy, but in the best possible way.

Yunah can't hold back, she can't hide the fact that Moka makes her lose her control. This cute, petite little thing below her; with her innocent, big brown eyes, and her adorable smile, that makes Yunah want to melt, she's her weakness. Moka, who she heard so many times, night after night. Moka, who she's ignored and tried to put from her mind, but can't. And now she has her. She has her little Moka beneath her, squirming and panting and whining, and Yunah's hips can't help but rut down into her.

Yunah can't get enough of it. Moka's pussy feels so soft and warm against her own. The slick mess that grows between them, it's addicting. The sounds are even worse. She wants to make more. She wants Moka to scream.

All the confusion Yunah once felt has vanished, and in its place, a sense of belonging, a feeling that she has to do this. That she's supposed to be in this bed with Moka and no one else. She never understood it. She was scared to admit it. But now there is nothing else she could ever ask for.

Yunah takes Moka's hand, interlocking fingers and squeezing. It's reassuring, and Moka's grip on her hand is strong, it tells Yunah she's feeling the same way.

"Moka."

"Yes," Moka answers.

Yunah looks down at the younger girl. Moka's face is contorted with pleasure, her lips are parted, and she's breathing so hard. She's completely lost to her sensations, and the sight makes Yunah's heart flutter, her skin burns and her body feels weak. "Moka," she whispers again. This time Moka's eyes open, looking straight at her. Their gazes lock and their fingers squeeze. "I like you."

"I like you too." Moka's smile is the most beautiful thing Yunah has ever seen, it triggers an instinct to fuck her harder. Moka's hand snaps to Yunah's hip and holds her tightly. She's moaning louder now. She can't hide it.

The bed creaks, the headboard hitting the wall. The sheets become tangled. They're sweaty and panting, and Moka's moans grow more desperate by the second.

Yunah can't stop herself any longer. Her stomach tenses tight, her body is on the verge of breaking and she can't take much more. "Moka," she calls her name, she's saying it so desperately. "Fuck, I'm going to cum." She can't hold on. Moka feels too good. Everything about this moment is perfect. It feels so right. Yunah can feel her own pussy twitch, she's getting closer to that edge. She can hear Moka whine, she's almost there. She wants Moka to finish. She needs it. "Cum with me."

"I want it, please Yunah. Please make me cum."

Yunah grinds harder. Moka's moans are so pretty. They fill her ears and they're the only sound in the room. They're music, they're the most perfect thing she's ever heard and the best song Moka has ever sung.

Yunah feels Moka's fingers tighten on her hip as she bucks her own up to meet Yunah's thrusts, and the sensation overwhelms them both. They cling to each other, both bodies trembling as the climax washes over them. Moka cries out, and it's loud. She doesn't even try to muffle herself as she squeezes Yunah's hand, and her hips jolt against hers. Yunah's face buries itself in Moka's neck, groaning into the skin, kissing, biting and sucking as the heat consumes her and her mind blanks, the pleasure takes over.

They lay there for what feels like forever, panting, their hearts thumping in their chests, the sound filling their ears.

It's then that Yunah looks up, pulling her head away. She looks down at Moka. Moka, her Moka, staring back up at her with her big eyes. The most gorgeous girl she's ever met. Her skin is so smooth and flawless. Her little nose, her cute lips, and the black, messy hair splayed on the pillow behind her, framing her face like a painting.

"Moka."

"Yunah."

Yunah leans down, pressing their foreheads together and Moka smiles, she can feel it against her face. Their breaths mingle and their hearts are so close, and Moka is holding onto her.

"I shouldn't have," Yunah pants, "shouldn't have lied to myself. Shouldn't have tried to ignore this."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not okay." She can feel Moka's lips brushing against hers. They're so close. It's just a little movement to close the distance between them, but Moka does it. She pushes her head up, and then Yunah's lips part. She kisses her and Yunah can't help but kiss her back, her tongue slipping into her mouth. Their tongues swirl and slide. Moka moans against her lips. The sound sends shivers down her spine. And Yunah wants her. She wants her so bad.

Moka is panting when Yunah breaks the kiss.

"It's okay now," Moka whispers, her breath ghosting over her. Yunah feels so weak. She's completely helpless.

"I think we need to talk about some stuff. But not now, not right now."

"No, not now," Moka replies with a giggle, leaning up and stealing another kiss.

Yunah gives her a lazy smile, brushing a stray hair behind her ear. She rolls onto her back, lying next to Moka, their legs still half-tangled. They lie in a comfortable silence. It feels so natural and normal as if it were always supposed to happen, that they were always meant to end up here. Yunah turns and looks at her, watching Moka stare at the ceiling.

"Is it weird that I want to do it again?" Yunah asks.

"Probably," Moka answers. She looks at her, grinning, "But so do I."

-

Thirty minutes later and Yunah finds herself mounted over Moka's face.

She's on her knees, straddling the girl, and the tip of her tongue is tracing patterns against her cunt. She's writing out love letters with her tongue. Signs her name on her clit and makes her legs shake.

Yunah braces, flat-palmed against the wall and throws her head back as she cries out Moka's name, grinding her pussy against the tongue. Sensitive and overused, yet still she wants this. She has to. It's not an option at this point. She's going to ride her until she can't possibly take anymore.

There's no coming back from this. There is only this, them, this room. The whole world has fallen away. It doesn't matter.

Moka is all that matters.

The warm tongue pushes past her lips and sinks into the soft heat, tasting her from the inside. She's moaning into Yunah's cunt, sending the most beautiful vibrations against her and Yunah is so fucking sensitive. Her thighs are shaking and she feels weak, she's struggling to hold herself up, but she can't bring herself to get off her.

"Your tongue, fuck," Yunah moans. The wet tongue laps at the mess, licking up her slick. Yunah can feel Moka swallowing, gulping her down, her little noises growing louder as she feasts. She's going to cum all over that pretty face. She's going to ruin Moka's perfect features and make them shine. Yunah is so close. She can't stop herself from thrusting forward. Her pussy is aching for more, throbbing as Moka eats her. She needs this, wants this.

"Moka... I can't stop, please don't stop," Yunah pants, pushing herself back onto her. Moka grips Yunah's thighs and digs her nails into them. "Fuck!" Yunah squeals. Her hips jerk forward. It's happening. It's too much. Moka's tongue won't stop, it swirls inside of her, and Yunah's legs are trembling.

Her thighs close tight around Moka's face, trapping it between her legs and her back arches, her mouth open, her voice hoarse and broken as she cums, and the walls inside of her clench tight.

And Moka is still eating her out. Yunah can feel the hot mess dripping from her pussy. She feels so sensitive. She can barely stand it, and her body twitches and spasms, and her heart pounds so hard. Her mind blanks. She's so tired, her body aching and exhausted, but her pussy still wants more.

"Yunah," Moka calls to her, patting her thigh and bringing her back from the brink of collapse, "Yunah, I can't breathe." Her little, muffled pleas have her snapping back to reality, realising that Moka's face has gone bright red. Yunah shifts, and she watches the way the girl gasps for air.

"Fuck, Moka." Yunah climbs from her and collapses beside her, chest heaving, sweat coating her skin. "Are you alright?"

Moka doesn't respond at first. She lays there, taking a breath and then she's turning, moving and climbing onto Yunah. "More than alright."

Yunah smiles at her, a sleepy smile that makes Moka blush, and she reaches up to push her black hair from her eyes. Her pretty little eyes are half-lidded and glazed, and her cheeks are rosy and flushed. Lips wet, with Yunah's arousal, it might be the hottest thing she's ever seen. "You're so pretty."

Moka giggles, a bashful laugh as she looks away. "Stop it."

"No," Yunah whispers with a smirk that she knows Moka likes. "I won't."

She flips Moka over and the girl lands with a yelp, a surprised and adorable little sound. She takes her liberties, to kiss and to bite, to suck her skin. Yunah is marking her. Deep kisses on her neck, bites that make Moka's body flinch and writhe, and her little noises are like the prettiest melody in the world. "So pretty," she repeats. "All mine."

Yunah moves down her body, her kisses trailing and leaving little bruises. She sucks her nipples into her mouth, swirling her tongue, sucking and nibbling on the stiff peak and making Moka's body buck up. Her mouth goes to the underside of her breasts, to the flat expanse of her stomach. She sinks her teeth in and Moka is whining. Her back is arched, her head pushed back and she's gripping the sheets, and Yunah is getting closer and closer to her destination. "My pretty girl," she murmurs into the smooth skin.

"Yunah," Moka whines and Yunah looks up, finding her staring, biting her lip. Her eyes are wide and desperate, pleading.

She lifts Moka's leg and kisses the back of her thigh. The younger girl is so sensitive. Her skin shivers as Yunah's mouth moves closer to her core. "Once we're home, Moka, I want to fuck you. Like really fuck you, hard, fast. I've seen those videos. What you watch when you're on your own." Moka squeals and her face goes crimson. She covers her head with a pillow. Yunah can't help the smile as she continues, "I want to do those things with you. One of those strap-ons. You'll look so pretty taking it."

Yunah kisses the girl's clit and Moka's entire body flinches. A hand shoots to Yunah's hair and grabs tight, holding onto the locks. She smiles against her, teasing her pussy, her mouth kissing and sucking on the lips of her cunt. "You can do anything you want to me," Moka gasps. Yunah can't help the laugh that slips out, a laugh of amusement and happiness, and Moka is squirming.

"You're gonna have to be more specific than that." Yunah kisses the mess from her lips, and Moka lets out the cutest, most frustrated noise, her hips lifting and her back arching.

"You can use me."

Yunah stops for a second. She raises her head and finds Moka looking at her. There is a blush to her cheeks and she looks embarrassed, and maybe even a little shy, but that glint in her eye is undeniable.

Yunah lowers herself, pressing a soft kiss to Moka's inner thigh. She takes her time, making a show of it, and Moka's breathing is getting heavier, more impatient. "Yeah?" She kisses her again. "Let me bend you over?" Another kiss. "Hold your face down on the bed while I fuck you?"

"Please," Moka whines, "Yes, yes."

"What else?" Yunah's eyes flick up. Moka's chest is rising, falling, rising.

Moka whines again. She throws her head back. Her body trembles. Yunah kisses her cunt. It's a deep kiss. It has Moka's hips bucking against her lips. "You can be rough with me," she finally manages, her voice breathy.

"Rough?" Yunah's eyebrow arches. She dips her tongue past the wet entrance and laps at Moka's heat. The girl's body is writhing against her mouth and Yunah can't help the muffled giggle. She's so cute like this, so easy to tease. Moka is panting. Her face is contorted in a desperate need for more, for release.

"If you want to," she mumbles, and Yunah is so tempted to tease her further. But Yunah is just as eager. She is so desperate for more of her taste, her body, her scent.

"Maybe," she whispers against the wet lips, "maybe, I'd rather be soft with you." Yunah sinks two fingers into her tight, wet hole. Moka gasps, and then moans. Yunah's mouth latches to the little nub of her clit, sucking it and swirling her tongue. The fingers thrust into her and curl. The walls tighten and tremble. "Take my time, fuck you slowly."

Yunah starts a slow rhythm with her fingers. Moka is whimpering, moaning and trying to buck into the fingers. But Yunah is stronger. Her free hand grabs the younger girl's thigh and forces her down, keeping her still and making her accept the pace.

"Slowly," Yunah repeats, "So slow you'll think it's torture. And I won't let you cum, not for a long time, until you can't bear it anymore." She kisses the skin, kisses her pussy, and then looks at Moka who's staring. She's flushed, her eyes wide and needy, her lips parted, and her body is trembling. "Until your little body is begging for release." She pushes another finger into Moka. She can feel the tightness around her digits and the way she throbs.

"Oh fuck," Moka moans.

"Or maybe I'll fuck you hard and fast." Yunah pushes down hard on Moka's thigh, and the pace picks up, the fingers slamming in and out. The lewd, wet sounds that Moka makes are enough to drive her crazy, the sloppy, messy sounds that come with every thrust and the sight of Moka's pussy, spread wide, stretched and accepting everything she's given, it has Yunah's head spinning. She feels delirious, high off of the pleasure she can give this pretty girl. "Hard, fast. Pound your pussy and make your entire body ache. Make you scream, make you beg me to stop because you can't handle anymore."

Moka's throat strains, and her body tenses. "I can't," Moka moans and Yunah can feel her pussy twitching, clenching around the digits inside of her. So easily does she cum against Yunah's fingers, and she's crying out, loud, without restraint. She doesn't even try to hold it back, and she's so wet. Her cum is leaking out, soaking her fingers, and it's the hottest thing Yunah has ever seen. She can't take her eyes away. She can't look anywhere but the way that Moka is cumming against her fingers.

She curls her fingers a little more and moves a little faster. The flow of cum becomes stronger, and Yunah can't stop the groan that leaves her. "Fuck." Moka's body is thrashing, she's whining and whimpering, and then it sprays a little, her cum, squirting from her and soaking her hand, her arm, the sheets. It leaks and sprays, it's the hottest thing she's ever seen, and Moka's body is spasming. Her hips are bucking and the moans sound so pretty.

And then Moka goes limp, she collapses onto the mattress and pants. She's staring up at the ceiling and her body is still trembling and shaking. Cum still leaking out and staining the sheets. All she sees are stars; pretty, beautiful stars.

"I'll never get tired of seeing you do that," Yunah murmurs as she pulls her soaked hand away.

"Shut up." Moka giggles and pulls her hands to her face. She covers her blushing face. "It's so embarrassing," she mumbles into her palms.

Yunah laughs, climbing from between her legs and lying next to her. Moka turns, lying on her side. "It's not," she whispers, "it's hot." Yunah runs her hand up Moka's bare thigh. Her hand slides to her ass and gives it a gentle squeeze. "Really hot."

[prael]

The k_smut subreddit

Some people may have noticed a link appear on my tumblr earlier in the month, but for those who haven't seen it yet, I'm making this post. You may remember an old subreddit for fics, sadly it fell in to disrepair and was deleted.

But, myself and some of the other writers in the discord have created a new subreddit, where we will post our fics as a sort of archive, and use a wiki page to create a masterlist of masterlists.

It's still early doors, so a lot of your favourite writers may have only uploaded their latest stuff, but it's the perfect place to keep up with high-quality new-releases and discover something you haven't read before.

The link to the subreddit: https://www.reddit.com/r/k_smut

The link to the masterlist of masterlists: https://www.reddit.com/r/k_smut/wiki/k-smuts_wiki/

Notes:

Comments on posts are enabled, but making new posts on the subreddit is limited to approved users only. This is the stop the request spam that ruined the previous subreddit, but feel free to comment and show love on posts by your favourite writers.

Navigating from the subreddit to the masterlist of masterlists:

On PC, use the following wiki link on the sidebar:

On mobile: Go to Read More, Menu, and access the k-smuts wiki

[prael]

Day 12: Three Shades of Sin

Le Sserafim Kazuha & Yunjin & TripleS Xinyu

words: 11,736 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

Look, you know this story starts with the way Xinyu has her fingers threaded beneath Kazuha's jaw, her lipstick smeared off in bits and pieces, but that’s not actually how it ends. It’s a slow descent; watching your girlfriend kiss someone new is a beautiful disaster that never really loses its lustre, and the truth is, there’s no moral at the end of this tale—the closest you’ll get to something cathartic is this:

Yunjin grinning at you, sunshine-bright and wickedly gorgeous. “You gonna invite us in, or what?”

-

First things first: the bar is packed—oh, it's always packed—but especially so on the nights when Kazuha performs. It's not a burlesque club, not really; in theory, it's not all that much more than an upscale lounge for yuppies with more money than they need, trying to pretend they're living sophisticated lives with a splash of debauchery on the side.

It's packed, obviously, because they're getting a little more debauchery than expected tonight—but all the familiar faces are there: the grad-school crowd who treat this club like the neighbourhood dive bar; the pretentious A-list types who claim to hate this kind of thing but always seem to show up anyway; the trust-fund kids and their vices and habits; the semi-locals, like you. They’re the mainstay: you know their drink orders, what they’re into, whether you’ve gone home with them before. You know who is dating who. Who's got a looser distinction between romance and just fooling around. Who got fired. Who's always fucked up beyond all help. You know the girl sitting at the end of the bar nursing a cosmo and waiting for you, alone.

She'd come to see Kazuha perform like everyone else.

"You missed my boyfriend," Xinyu says to you, just shy of winking. She looks beautiful—she always does, of course, but this time: she's wearing black leggings and a crop top that shows off the cut of her waist, her toned abs. The skirt is so small it's basically an accessory to how she's got her dark hair pinned up into something half-bedroom, half-backstage-chic, hoop earrings that dangle just above the slope of her neck.

"Did I?" you reply, coy. It's not flirting—or maybe it is, you're not sure.

She tips her head, cheek resting delicately on her knuckles. You end up staring at her mouth; the words coquettish and prurient and absolutely, unquestionably fuckable are swirling around your brain. "Yep," she says, and her lips curve beautifully. "You did."

Xinyu turning up the dial until she's impossible to resist is pretty much standard-operating-procedure here—it's sort of like this place runs through her blood. She's claimed ownership of it for herself.

"It's too bad," she says, drumming acrylics on the countertop. She shoots you a look that's all bedroom eyes: that drowsy, liquid-lidded kind of want that tells you she'd have her head tilted back against your pillows in less than a few minutes if you asked. "I think you would've really gotten along."

"Guess I'll just have to settle for his girlfriend." You lean closer to her, conspiratorial. "This is fun. What else are we doing tonight?"

"Oh, yeah, you know." She stretches long and languid, satisfied. "Same as usual." That means dancing—some partying, probably lots of drinking, flirting. You're going to take her home and pin her wrists to the pillow above her head. You don't mind any of that—it's become your life, these last months, too. You know the routine here like you've known it for years.

"Want something to drink?" you ask her, and Xinyu considers you. Like she's going to pounce.

"Not really," she says, and then her chin fits into the dip between her thumb and pointer finger. You get closer. "Think I'm thirsty for something else." There's nothing left of the distance between you, and you're not kissing her yet, not yet—but the tension is making a point of shuddering and cracking.

All that promise of something more.

"Don't let this go to your head, but." Xinyu reaches out a hand. You play into the script; you take it and bring her knuckles to your lips. Her wrist smells like the perfume you bought her a Christmas ago. You kiss there, too—for a split second. "I love my boyfriend. He's great." Your eyes dart to hers again—she's always watching, waiting for the attention to come back her way. "But sometimes girls just hit differently, right?"

"See anyone in particular?" you say, still nonchalant, while Xinyu hooks a fingertip onto the neckline of your shirt.

"Oh," says Xinyu. Her grin is devilish, dangerous: like she'd carve right through your throat. "That's cute of you. Like, you really wanna know, hm? I have a list."

"How long is it?" You raise an eyebrow, feign boredom. She likes the challenge.

"Depends on the night."

"But I'm at the top," you continue, unabashed—your usual brand of charming. "Right?"

Xinyu laughs; it's a delight, musical and precious. You'd listen to it for hours if you could.

"You already know, honey." Her nails skim your neck; they catch in your hair. The strands fall over the silver around her fingers. "Top of my list, and everyone else's, too."

"Nope." You lean even further over the bar, stealing the inches, taking them for your own. "Not tonight."

"I don't share." Xinyu taps your nose, prim, smirking. Her eyes are shining, brimming with energy—you can't look away from her. She's intoxicating. She's beautiful. "He wouldn't like that anyway."

"Oh, come on. That sounds like a 'him' problem. Right?"

There's a raucous chorus of laughter from across the floor: people coming in from the cold, wanting to see the show, see a gorgeous girl in next-to-nothing strut her stuff up onstage. You watch as Xinyu's eyelashes flutter, delighted—she's waiting for something to begin; this is a ritual that repeats, the fervour starting low and ending high.

And it starts, and it ends, always, with you looking at her.

"We'll see," sings Xinyu, and she twirls on her stool, one leg neatly hooked over the other. The bar erupts into thunderous applause—the lights dim, and Kazuha emerges onstage.

-

See, the club isn't normally about stripteases—sure, some girls dance—but this is still a place with bottle service and $18 cocktails, not one where dancers make a show of stripping out of their lingerie. And it's not like you care much for how people try to make themselves seem better than they are, really: if you wanna be trashy, fine. If you want to keep up appearances, put on some kind of show like you're worth a dime more than anyone else out there, great, fine, do that. This place may be the latter, but in the end, it's all the same; everything falls apart once the night sets in. Everything stays messy, no matter which box you paint yourself into.

That's a long preface to say: you're just not expecting her in the slightest.

To be honest, most nights aren't all that exciting—there are people to remember, drinks to mix up, tabs to close and mouths to kiss, sometimes—but mostly, there's not a lot worth mentioning. When people come into the bar—the people who are new, the people who think that this is an opportunity for the night to turn interesting—you look up, size them up, wonder who they're going home with, if you're interested at all. More often than not, it's none of the above.

"Hi," says the new face as she slides up to you on the stool. Well, okay, so this part is different.

Xinyu stepped out earlier—said she had someone else to find, said you'd probably like who she had in mind, but whatever. You'll see when you see. You're not picky. You were ready to dick around on your phone until your girlfriend figured out which plaything you were both in the mood for tonight—you're not opposed to another addition, not at all—but then—

Then the girl sits at the bar, leans on her elbows over the polished surface. Rakes her fingers through the wisps of dark hair at her forehead, pushes it back, and—

And meets your gaze dead on, and doesn't break it. Not even a bit.

Okay—so, she's blindingly, impossibly stunning. A textbook fucking ten.

"Hi," she says again, firmer, like she knows what you're thinking. "Do they serve anything here that isn't blue or tastes like putting your tongue to a nine-volt?"

It's such a shockingly mild opener that you immediately laugh at her. It just spills right out of you.

"Yeah," you say, leaning against the bar, mildly amused. You call over the bartender, order in duplicate—you're pretty sure that's how this works, you have to get the drink in front of her, not even mention it, just let her know that you're calling the shots here—and then fix her with another look, eyebrows quirked. "New in town?" you ask. Small talk. Sure.

"No," she replies, "just new in here." She tosses her silky red hair over her shoulder. Reveals the halter-neck of her blouse and the deepness of the dip. Her collarbones are out. You barely even notice. "Also," she continues, "this place is a fucking zoo."

There's no patience to her. She's harsh, no filter. Your drinks arrive, and she hardly reacts when they do.

"It's a bit crowded." You're trying somewhat to stay diplomatic. "It's the girl on stage," you offer, and you gesture vaguely towards Kazuha's figure: long legs and curves in all the right places, raven-black hair falling to her waist. Everyone looks at her like she's a gift sent down from heaven. She's dressed in something gold, sequin, and she knows that they're pretty much right.

"Well, I guess that explains it."

"Everyone's hoping she'll take off more clothes." You shrug your shoulders at your new companion. "But she never does, so I'm not quite sure why everyone thinks tonight will be the exception."

"No shit," the girl drawls, her tone entirely blasé—she's so painfully disaffected, the disinterested, entitled type; your heart skips a beat. "No offence to you, man, but I think most of the guys here are either idiots or creeps." The redhead wrinkles her nose. "Or both."

"A fair assessment, honestly," you muse. Sip your drink. It's bitter. She hasn't touched hers. "You think I'm any different?"

The corner of her mouth ticks up. "No," she says.

The room seems to tilt sideways, and everything gets fuzzy: it feels like you're supposed to be talking in code or perhaps just reading between lines—there's a whole secret conversation happening beneath this surface-level, meaningless banter. You're making contact, making plans. She knows where this is going. You're right there with her.

"The girl up there is cute," the redhead says after a while, thoughtful. "What's your deal with her? How come you haven't turned into one of the animals in the horde yet?"

It's an obvious line of questioning.

"She's nice," you admit, "but I've already got something good going with someone. No need to push my luck with anyone else."

At this, she raises an eyebrow, curious, cautious, wary. "Nice, how?"

"I mean, she's beautiful," you say, "very pretty." Easy things. Surface things. These things anyone could list off. "Cute voice."

"Nothing in particular, though, huh." Her eyes flick back to the performer onstage—Kazuha's walking the catwalk, kicking her heel out at the men closest to her; her skirt rides up, and everyone goes absolutely wild for it—and then returns her focus to you. "Not your type?"

You've been in this seat—or one just like it, at least—watching Kazuha's ass onstage for countless nights. You're well aware of her appeal, but you can't figure out a harmless way to say your mind is giving you three images of a palm-print burning across the same expanse of skin at any given moment.

You shrug, ambivalence feigned. "I guess not."

"It's funny." She props her chin on her palm, her nail polish glittering against her jawline. She's barely touched her drink. "The girl's normally such a doll, right? Kind of girlish. Could barely hold a conversation with a boy when I met her. And now she's all that. On stage."

"Hmm," you reply, like you can't imagine it. "Is that right?"

"Oh yeah," she tells you, half-smiling. Her lipstick leaves marks on the glass as she takes her first sip. "Years of ballet school will do that to a girl. Though maybe something about performing just became second nature."

"Explains the legs," you mutter, feeling the look she levels with you; dangerous. "And the gracefulness," you amend quickly. She raises an eyebrow at you, and you raise one right back; it's a power struggle, and when her fingers curl across her chin, you almost choke on nothing.

"Legs and grace," she says. "That's about it for her, huh?"

You nod, your voice quiet, soft.

"How do you know her?" you ask gently.

"Oh, honey," she croons. Her face is halfway to laughter, mirth perched like a threat in her voice. She puts a palm flat on the counter and slides it forward so her manicure scrapes at the varnish. Leans into you over the edge of the bar and presses her lips to your ear. "I'm fucking her."

Everything in your brain stops, and starts; everything crashes down around you; everything rearranges.

"You know," the girl continues like she's explaining something casual, something innocent, "she's real fun on her hands and knees. Can't get enough of me." She tilts her head, contemplative. "I suppose she is beautiful," she adds, almost thoughtfully, and then reaches out her fingers. Tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "And graceful."

All you can picture are those gorgeous, creamy thighs marked up by nails like razors: bruises shaped like fingertips, angry scratches that would leave scars if pushed hard enough. Things for her to return to.

You swallow. You blink.

"She's very lovely," you say, careful, careful.

"Listen." The girl leans away, sweeps her red hair back over her shoulder, fixes you with her heavy-lidded eyes again. "We don't have to pretend we're in love or anything." Her voice is velvet, husky; the words catch at your eardrum and melt there, dripping down the bones of your skull like liquid seduction. "She's busy, clearly. So, I'm looking for a little company tonight, and I think I've found it."

"And your girlfriend?"

"Can't make it." She smiles, wolfish. "Which, if you don't mind me saying, is very lucky for you."

"Girlfriend, who you fuck into the mattress," you clarify. "She'd have no problem sharing?"

"With a pretty thing like you?" Her eyelashes flutter—the way they sweep low makes shadows across her cheeks, delicate. "No chance she'd object."

Your mouth twists to the side. "What's the catch?"

"No catch," she purrs. "Just: I'm going to go to the bathroom, and I think you could follow me there in five minutes, tops. Sound like a plan, handsome?"

Oh.

Okay. You think vaguely that Xinyu's probably got a hand in this, somehow. Doing this on purpose, leaving you here to fend for yourself—and it's a very Xinyu kind of move, really: setting you up with some stranger, letting her proposition you, and waiting for it to escalate past the point of return. Sending you right up to a pretty pair of vices, telling you to chew them down to size. Maybe if you do good—you already know how she wants you to perform—you'll get an actual reward later. Another girl for you to fuck, or maybe Xinyu herself. Or both. Your brain is spinning in circles. You really, really can't think straight with her breathing right onto your pulse.

"What, you've got something better to do than fuck two girls tonight? The girl seems to weigh something out in her mind; watches you through a side-long glance. "You really can't drop everything to play around for a little bit?"

So maybe it's not Xinyu's handiwork—this is a little too far-fetched, even for her—but you can't lie. When she goes ahead, drags her fingers on your shoulder as she glides by and doesn't bother looking back, the way your cock throbs makes it easy to decide that it doesn't matter.

-

You get lost a bit on the logistics. (That'll actually be a recurring theme.)

There's a pair of single-occupancy toilets in the back of the bar, ostensibly family washrooms; for mothers with children, wheelchairs, sloppy bathroom sex with god-blessedly gorgeous strangers, that sort of thing—but they're occupied. Both the handles spun up; red tags flipped up to indicate engagement, a motif, and symbolism in spades. Something heavy-handed and easily ignored.

"Maybe I should just get on my knees right here," she suggests eventually—like a joke, but she'd do it. You're pretty sure.

"Absolutely not," you counter, only a little bit scandalized. She grins and presses a palm flat to your abdomen.

"Just problem-solving." She's totally blasé. "Critical thinking."

"Careful with that," you warn her, sorta unreasonably given where your fingers are on the cut of her hips.

She pretends to think about it, fingers tapping thoughtfully on her lip, a comical exaggeration, and you just roll your eyes. You think about getting her name, maybe a number—you could just leave it at that, save her contact info under tall, great ass, (fuckable) lips and pray to hell it never comes up as recommended when someone else texts you.

Yeah, right. It's better to just bury yourself in this until it all dissolves—stick to the immediacy of it. Get your mouth on every part of her body and lick her clean, and then be gone before the sun rises. Right?

She pulls you down by your neck and slots your lips together again, slow, agonizing, her lips slipping over yours like they're made to be there. She kisses like it's an art form—something you can perfect, practice—and her tongue darts along the seam of your mouth like she wants to coax you open. There's the bite of cherry lipstick, sweet and candied; her fingertips into your belt loops, then yanks you toward her with her nose scrunched and a wicked smile.

"I can't believe you'd let me fuck you with your back against the wall like this." Her hips bump forward into yours—she's playing at bashful, coy and innocent. She's failing miserably. "What if someone sees?"

"I think you'd like that," you answer.

"Mmm," she agrees. She's tipping her head back, sliding her tongue across her upper lip, baring her neck to you. Her eyes flick back up, dragging like a blade. "Letting someone walk by, seeing you pushing into me, knowing I was about to make you lose control...yeah. Sounds hot, honestly."

"Shut up," you murmur, leaning closer.

"Make me," she kisses back, eyes flashing; oh, if you didn't feel it before, this is definitely how you know you'll see her again: you recognize the power in her stance, the firecracker-red blaze in her glare—it's like looking in a mirror, that domineering aggression. It's the promise of a rivalry; something you'll want to tame.

A wayward thought lingers: oh, hell—your mind is rapid on the recall, an endless, eager, addicting memory loop—how she kisses, too. The silky sweetness, the enthusiasm—the way her hands bury in your shirt and her pitched, muffled sounds of appreciation spill right into your throat. How she's such an obscene daydream, and the filthy, filthy things she tells you with her hands in your hair—the shock of that, her bold, pretty mouth telling you what she's fantasizing about right now and the fact that those fantasies line up with yours in nearly every sense. Her very presence is a contradiction, her mismatched gestures: tender kisses and wandering hands; how, for every inch given, she'll take five more.

You get your fingers under her skirt, pull her legs up to your waist; she wraps her palm over your cock; smiles against your lips, almost smitten but too arrogant for it: a villainous grin. You hitch one of her thighs over your hip, her panties damp against your slacks. Oh, how good she is—how perfect the feeling, how beautifully her teeth sink into the soft underside of your lower lip like you belong to her: a piece of property.

"That's it, sweetheart," you groan, kissing the apple of her cheek, letting the blush seep right under your tongue. Your hand hovers near her inner thigh. "God, you're so fucking sexy."

"Touch me," she hisses into the skin of your cheek.

"So demanding," you hum.

"Oh, shut the fuck up," she moans, arching into your chest—but her eyelashes flutter as your thumb ghosts across the fabric of her underwear, teasing. "Ah-ha..."

You'll justify it later, somehow: a cheat night, maybe—Xinyu's so used to getting other girls all to herself, you should have a few all to your own—and this one doesn't count as one, really; she belongs to someone else anyway, the raven-haired girl with the siren voice, long legs in silk stockings and pearls across her neck and high-heeled boots clicking across the pavement. And Kazuha doesn't even have to know: she's busy, probably; off with another guy or two or three. No reason to tell her what happens—you certainly won't complain. One orgasm and the redhead will be out of your hair.

There's a side door, some stairs. Nobody stops to ask who you are or where you're going, or even so much as bat an eye as you spill out into the alley—where people go to smoke or fight or vomit; she kisses you outside in the cold air, sliding her hands into your pockets and pushing up to the tips of her toes. There's a smile on her face like you're her best idea ever. It's cold out; she doesn't appear to care.

"God, I'm wet," she breathes, and you don't have to believe her.

"I bet I can help with that." Your jacket slides across your shoulders, off onto the concrete. You're leading her around a corner and against a brick wall. It's dark here. Dark enough for mistakes. Dark enough that you can press her spine to the bricks, slide your hands to her sides and lift her up, taste the lipstick across her jawline-

"Oh my god," comes a voice—softer, sweeter, a total siren lilt. "Please, fuck, that feels so-"

Both your heads swivel.

One streetlight illuminates Kazuha with her back pressed to the bricks and her hand curled tightly in all this black hair, panting, pleading: a perfect fucking masterpiece. She's got her eyes screwed shut, her lips parted; she's absolutely lost.

"Huh," says the redhead, dispassionate—and her fingers curl loosely over your forearm, drumming rhythmically. "Looks like she got distracted after all."

The hand between her legs is fucking her up and doing it fast, snapping sharp wrist motions accompanied by these rhythmic, throaty gasps from Kazuha as she holds onto the edge of a dumpster lid, clawing at metal. There's a muffled string of curses as the woman crouches, leaning forward—shoving her tongue inside. "Fu-uck," Kazuha manages, two distinct syllables—and her grip tightens around her waist, her spine. You catch the light shining off her gold earrings like a flash-warning, and you fall short of a breath.

“Xinyu?” you sputter. “What’re you-”

Xinyu extracts her hand from Kazuha’s cunt, licks her fingers clean and turns to you, not at all guilty—but she isn’t sorry, either. You blink hard.

“Oh, hey,” says Xinyu, cheery as anything. She brushes off her dress. “Didn’t think I’d find you here.”

“Neither did we,” you choke, dry-mouthed. “Are you…”

“We’re making use of some downtime,” offers Kazuha, smoothing down her hair, wiping off her smudged lipstick. The makeup is so precise that it doesn’t look smudged at all—or maybe that’s just how used she is to covering it up. “Is there a problem?”

“No, none-” Your mouth snaps shut as Xinyu meets your stare and gives you an impish little shrug, biting back a smile. She saunters over to where you stand, keeping a respectable distance.

“Look at this, babe," Xinyu says. She gestures to the girl you were making out two seconds ago, casual. "I found him first. Isn’t he handsome?”

“You’ve got weird taste,” replies the redhead, not unkindly, tilting her head back against the wall and exposing all that gorgeous skin. You can see her chest rise and fall in ragged breaths. Xinyu walks a hand up your torso, palms your collarbone with a suggestive smile—it's a little possessive, but then again, you realize you’ve forgotten to let go of the other girl's hand.

“You would be into him,” retorts Kazuha. She laughs softly. “Hi, Jen,” she adds, almost as an afterthought.

“Hey,” Yunjin says, wiggling her fingers, lazy. “Loved the performance."

"Shut the fuck up," snipes Kazuha, rolling her eyes, but she's flushed, halfway to an orgasm that's not gonna happen because everyone is apparently choosing now to puzzle this one out. "Could see you flirting with him the entire time, idiot."

"He's super fucking hot," says Yunjin. "Oh, speaking of which—" She tugs you closer by your wrist—you're stuck, standing still, trapped between three gorgeous women ready to argue over who saw who first.

“Wait,” you manage, breaking free. Yunjin huffs. Xinyu frowns, blinking. Kazuha leans back against the wall.

“We didn’t plan this or anything,” explains Kazuha. “Xinyu just likes what she sees sometimes.” There’s a practised ease in the way she says this—like this has all been rehearsed before between the two of them. "Or, well—" Kazuha lifts a shoulder, delicate, polished. "A lot of the time, I guess."

"Yeah," Xinyu says, not defensive. "So?"

"Well," you say, after a long moment—your mind working furiously to process, reconcile, synthesize—this scene where you're being pulled in six directions at once, trying to put this story together before any more pages flip.

"That's your girlfriend," you say to Yunjin, finally—and point a finger towards Kazuha.

"And yours," says Kazuha, one hand on Xinyu's hip. “Hi,” she adds.

"Yep," says Xinyu. "How about that."

She steps up close to you and bats those dark lashes. Behind her, Kazuha’s gaze catches your glance; it takes you a solid ten seconds to realize she’s trying to place where she’s seen you before—it clicks for her all at once, though it's a lot quicker for you—and then it all slots neatly into place, every cog and screw lining up in an easy motion.

“So.” Yunjin chews idly at the pad of her thumb. "What, you guys met once at the mall or something?"

"Yeah," you reply, realizing exactly how you and yours have come to fall for two of the same type. "We met at the mall."

If you'd like to imagine that this goes smoothly after that—it doesn't. Not really. It's more accurate to say that Yunjin looks at you, your blank stare, the panic—and the three girls just dissolve into laughter, giddy and conspiratorial like they've just pulled off the world's greatest coup.

"C'mon," says Yunjin. She's so good at reading social cues—like, oh, you being totally stunned-silent by the sheer amount of sexual energy suddenly coursing through this alleyway. "You said it yourself," Yunjin reminds you, gesturing at Kazuha, "beautiful, very pretty, nice legs." She brings her lips to your cheek. "You didn't lie about that."

"What?" says Kazuha.

Yunjin just smiles, brushes a lock of red hair behind her ear. "We have taste," she tells Kazuha, confident and poised—and then to you, hushed under her breath, "I'd watch you rail her," she murmurs. Her tongue darts out, pressing wet and warm into the shell of your ear. "Would you like that?"

"That's-" you start. You stop. Xinyu looks over at you, a devious flicker lighting up her eyes—oh, god; if that doesn't spell disaster, nothing does—and the grin she gives you is so downright evil you wonder why you ever dared dream you stood a chance. She looks back over at Kazuha, reaches out a hand to clasp gently at that impossible waist, pulling her in close.

"Sweetheart," Xinyu drawls, tracing a thumb over her jawline. "Doll," she continues, letting the nickname linger. She leans up, pecks a kiss against Kazuha's mouth—but her eyes don't leave yours for a second. She bites down gently on Kazuha's lower lip, tugging lightly at the skin before letting it snap back.

"You know I wouldn't ever get jealous over sharing something with you," Xinyu murmurs. She says it like a proclamation; something binding, solemn—a pact signed in ink, wax-sealed and pressed into the skin of Kazuha's collarbone. They're practically the same height. It makes your throat run dry. "You get me," she says.

Yunjin laughs, but not meanly. "It's cute how you pretend you aren't selfish," she says to Xinyu, rolling her eyes. Her lips curve upwards. "Tell me something I don't know." And then—you feel her fingertips trail delicately over your waistband, slipping her thumb below the hem of your jeans. "Hey, Kazuha?"

Kazuha drags her focus off Xinyu with visible effort, snapping back into the conversation.

"Wanna ride his face?"

Xinyu is grinning like a lunatic, gorgeous and predatory.

Kazuha gathers her hair off her neck. “He seems like the type who would want to eat pussy for hours."

"I wouldn't complain," you croak out—and Yunjin laughs. It’s genuine, unpracticed, the sort of thing that shakes her shoulders; it fills you up.

"Why don't you sit back down against that wall," she tells you, nudging at your ribs. Her touch feels electric. "Relax."

Oh. She says it like an order, and you realize that she knows full well what it'll do to you. She's still smiling, though it's sharper now, sharper, hungrier—like the glint of fangs that'll tear you apart. It's really no wonder you ended up exactly where she wanted you—but then you realize Kazuha's looking at you, and you realize that you're not entirely sure whose team you're on or if there even are any teams here. It's not like you can complain. The most you can manage is a grunt of acknowledgement, sitting down slowly, trying not to trip over your own feet and ruin everything.

"Good boy," Yunjin quips, quiet enough to feel private, intimate. You blink up at her, still holding her hand in your lap as you sit down, staring like she holds the key to all seven wonders of the world in her palm. "Kazuha," Yunjin calls over her shoulder, patting your arm. "Get over here. Come meet my new friend."

And that's sorta how you wind up in some kind of...what-the-fuck situation? Some otherworldly thing you shouldn't even hope to explain—some alternate dimension shit with two beautiful women pressing you back against some dirty-ass brick wall in the alley behind your usual haunt, a third one laughing hysterically at all four of you. You feel like the dumbest motherfucker alive, especially when Xinyu whispers something in Yunjin's ear, and it earns a resounding laugh, but mostly just because your girlfriend's hands are everywhere and Yunjin's sitting back and watching like it's prime-time television.

That—and also because Kazuha's decided she needs your face buried in her cunt ASAP, and frankly, you can't even muster up the energy to disagree.

-

First things first: the bar is packed—oh, wait, no: it's always packed. But especially so on the nights where you're trying to navigate this stupid situation, you got yourself into where three fucking goddesses have you on rotation, like clockwork. 

You're collecting coats and closing tabs, doing your absolute best not to bring any more attention to how Kazuha's wobbling on both legs because she can't quite walk straight anymore.

Yunjin—your current distraction, clad in the most perfect shade of red lipstick, clinging onto your favourite girl like a lifeline—keeps leaning over to Xinyu, whispering frantically in her ear, and it's like the more they talk, the more amused Xinyu gets.

"I told Yunjin your apartment's the closest," Xinyu says to you, eventually, a small smirk forming on her face. "Think she wants you alone for a while. Sounds like she thinks you could really, uh—" She nods toward you, gesturing pointedly towards your belt. "Blow her back out, is how she phrased it."

Oh. Well, then. Yeah, no, you'd be perfectly okay with that.

When you glance back over at the rest of your—you don't have a word for it—entourage, three pairs of eyes are locked on you, expectant and eager. Jesus fucking Christ. You make brief eye contact with Yunjin; her smile grows impossibly wider. This was meant to be a casual night, wasn't it? A nice outing at the lounge bar where you down drinks and enjoy the scenery—that was how it started, right? Then Yunjin had shown up, demanding all your attention like you owed it to her just for existing (and honestly? You kinda do). It'd been an excuse to look at Kazuha's tits, and then another to press your mouth all over Xinyu's—but the way your girlfriend's looking at you makes it abundantly clear that that ship's already sailed. 

Kazuha raises a water bottle to her lips, looking cool and confident as ever (oh, you know better).

"Didn't mean to invite everyone over, but." Xinyu preens, adjusting the hem of her skirt and checking for signs of wear. She knows exactly what she's saying, exactly what you're thinking—there's an intentness to her words. "You wouldn't mind, right, baby?"

"Yeah, sure," you agree, glancing up at all of them with a nod. You've never moved faster in your life; your coat's over your arm, keys in your pocket, the whole ensemble. They're watching you, waiting patiently. Xinyu raises an eyebrow. "Lead the way?"

She beams. She turns, slips her purse strap over her shoulder. "Alright," she chirps—and the four of you take off into the night.

-

It's funny, you think: Xinyu's also had a weak spot for Kazuha, probably since the first time she saw her perform. (That's the part that sticks out in your brain.) But then again, maybe Kazuha knew about Xinyu too; they seem pretty damn cosy for this being their first interaction with each other, though you suppose you can't judge—you were practically aching for Yunjin within an hour of meeting her, weren't you?

But whatever. Your cock is in Yunjin's hand, and your mind is very much not present right now. That's the important thing.

By the time you finally unlocked your front door, all four of you stumbling in—everyone tipsy, aroused, dying to get their hands on someone's skin—Yunjin immediately glued herself to you, pushing your coat off your shoulders. She'd gotten your zipper undone in record time. It's not the first time, obviously: she's got this ghost of a grip around your cock already, a knowing stroke, this way of handling your arousal that feels almost proprietary in its control.

There's an island in the kitchen; you're washed up on its shore. Fingers spread across the marble sand as the edge presses against your lower back. "Drinks are in the—"

"You can skip the fanfare." Yunjin is stroking you, her other hand at the nape of your neck to pull you down, kiss her; your mouth meets hers, hot, messy, too hard. Pick up where you left off sort of thing. Some unheard conversation must have planned this, on the street or in the hallway or the elevator—they'd figured out some secret plot, who got what, how they would split up, and it starts here.

It's in your periphery that you see them cross, hand in hand, watching you come undone by the vixen in red. Xinyu is taking the lead, and you can see her mind working overtime to figure out what would drive you the most insane right now. She stops at the couch, centre-view, perching herself on the back of it to pull the other girl against her. Kazuha giggles in the high pitch, something that sounds too sweet to come from someone whose job it is to get men going—and maybe she does that on purpose: the look over her shoulder accompanies a feigned innocence.

Xinyu looks past her, gaze falling over Yunjin first: red dress, blood red lips, hair like a hearth-fire, and the hand moving on your cock in your unbuckled jeans. "A head start? How unfair." She rolls her eyes with all the mocking derision she can muster, but her smirk betrays her. She's pushing Kazuha by the shoulder, putting the dancer down on her knees. Even in the most compromising position possible, she looks immaculate: she sinks, legs together, ass perched on her heels. There's not a strand of hair out of place, and even in her lust, Xinyu strives to maintain the fact, so she takes care in the way she pulls Kazuha between her thighs. A gentle, fingertip hold, as she spreads her knees to frame her.

You watch with rapt attention; you can hardly look away. The whole thing is artfully posed.

Yunjin says your name, the first word you've heard from her, and you've only missed it a little. Your gaze moves to her. You expect another comment, snide, but her mouth parts, like the words have been stolen right out of it.

"You good?" You're trying to be a gentleman, if not an asshole—and it works, too; it spurs her back. She bites the corner of her lip and hums.

"Yeah, you know." A half-shrug accompanies her words as she lets you slide a strap from her shoulder. "Still waiting for you to blow my back out."

Oh. You laugh, hoarse. Yeah, that's—that's on the agenda, for sure.

It's just—the show, right across from you, has started.

Kazuha, in her performance, has Xinyu's skirt pushed up around her waist, face against her thigh, breath hot on her skin, fingers splayed over her knee to press her legs even wider. The most natural seduction; the effortless allure that laces every part of her. Her lips against skin are soft and pink, moving against the curve of the muscle, mouthing up higher. You know how that feels—travelling the vast expanse of Xinyu's long legs in search of something to bury your face in.

"She's in for a treat," Yunjin whispers.

"So am I," you return, placing a hand on Yunjin's now strapless shoulder and putting just enough weight into your hand that she knows she's going down.

"Can't promise I won't bite," she warns, in the tone that makes your throat dry, in the way you think she just might. But you've also had the image of Yunjin's head bobbing in your lap the whole cab ride home.

If there's a heaven, you'll find it in a mouth like this one: soft-lipped, warm and wet, tongue on you. You reach for the back of her neck, feel the silk of her hair under your palm as she sucks hard enough to make your hips jerk. Then there's the gentlest of grazes—her teeth on your shaft, and it makes your jaw tighten. She's all smirk and smoulder, eyes coming up to see what kind of face she's making you pull.

"Oops," she laughs.

"Fuck," Xinyu gasps, the loudest sound in the room. There's the slightest shift of Kazuha's shoulders, the way her back bows when her tongue drags from slit to clit; nose pushed up tight.

Xinyu, still leaning over the back of the couch, turns her gaze toward you, then, heavy, desperate, and dark: an intensity that hits right in the base of your stomach and twists like a dull knife.

Xinyu trades pleasured gasps for a coy remark. "Look at her go. Eats pussy like she'll starve to death without it." It's like she needs to comment on it, all casual, as if there weren't someone between her legs, making her thighs tense.

Yunjin pulls back just long enough to say, "Tell me about it." Then she goes deep enough that you see your cock hit the back of her throat. No warning. You cough out an obscenity. It's good, and it's better because of what you're looking at.

"Yeah?" Xinyu says. "Be pretty easy to cum like this, you know?" The implication hangs in the air, unaddressed.

Just like Yunjin before you, you agree. "Tell me about it."

Your girl, on the couch, her body twists again. Kazuha is making her work to keep the upper hand in all this, if there's such a thing, and she has to put conscious effort into keeping her words steady. Her focus is on you, on your face, on how your mouth opens every time Yunjin sinks her mouth to the hilt.

"Do you wanna cum like this?" Yunjin says to the underside of your dick, her hot breath against your length.

You look to Xinyu for a final answer: her head's back and her chin tilted high in a groan that fills the room, an arcing note in a rising song that starts between her thighs. Her hands grip the cushions.

"She's close," You say off-handedly. An easy observation. It doesn't answer her question.

"Could finish you so easily," Yunjin hums. You feel her words against the crown. She swirls her tongue, and you clench your fists.

"Faster than Kazuha?"

"Much faster." Yunjin grins like she's just thrown down a challenge. And you get why it works: competitive to a fault.

"No chance," Xinyu manages. There's sweat on the skin that shimmers with highlight, her chest heaving with every laboured breath, "absolutely—" Kazuha presses forward, and the rest comes out a curse. She grits out the words. "Impossible."

"Bet?" says Yunjin, her nails dug deep enough into your skin that it leaves little crescent moons.

Xinyu's head lifts. There's a smile on her face that's just shy of wicked, "I'd say winner takes all."

There are very few bets that Xinyu won't take and fewer stakes that she won't gamble with, but she's got confidence in Kazuha's ability, and time is a-ticking. Even with how wound up Yunjin's got you, watching them, it's still an even race at this point. Kazuha has a lot to prove: this is a test to see if her pretty lips and clever tongue can get her girl to the finish line faster than anyone else.

And, oh—she can taste it, can't she: Xinyu dripping wetness to her chin, her folds spread and cunt eager. The dancer's a performer of many skills: her fingers slide inside, her mouth locked in place and sucking hard until Xinyu is fucking her mouth with the back and forth of her hips. In a moment of indulgence, she presses Kazuha's face deeper, harder. It's rougher, meaner: she pushes her up tight enough that her air might just get cut off, if it weren't for the moans that slip from the singer's mouth. "God—" You think she says, and then nothing but sharp inhale and the jolt of her hips that has Kazuha's nails in the flesh of her inner thighs.

Yunjin's picking up the slack on you. Maybe to wipe the smirk from your girlfriend's face, or maybe she just really wants your cum down her throat. That's fine. You're not opposed.

Mouth briefly replaced by hand, strokes hard and tight, so she can talk and please. "Better cum in me soon. You'll lose." She winks. She's not wrong, and she sucks in her next breath like she knows it. That mouth on you again.

Let's be real. Let's not get it twisted. You win. You always win.

Xinyu will cum first. It's one of those facts in life. Death, taxes and Xinyu's climaxes.

It starts in her chest—a hitch that becomes a heavy rise and fall, a moan from deep in her throat. Her body follows it: every limb taut like strings in a bow. Tension: her head back to the sky and the arch in her back like a crescent. Her legs start to shake. It's there that you feel your blood thrumming, the adrenaline that starts that climb before your fall, and Yunjin takes her cue to speed things up on her end as Xinyu tumbles over on hers. Her thighs tense, tight, trembling.

"Oh—oh fuck—Kazuha." Xinyu moaning another woman's name always has a certain kind of kick to it, even more so with you down Yunjin's throat. She's never shy about this. Never timid. Always, unabashedly, the way it is with you and how she'll scream and cry for it, for the orgasm that wracks her like an electric current.

Kazuha has no interest in easing her down: the pads of her fingertips work her open, pumping inside, tongue flat to lap against the pulsing heat, riding her through each wave and crest, drawing them longer, higher. Xinyu's shaking with the overstimulation, hands in hair, but not pulling back.

"God. Fuck, Kazuha—" This time, there's the edge of desperation to it, so close to pleading for it to stop.

There's a moment when you lock your eyes. Xinyu looking through the strands of her dark hair that stick to her cheeks, and the sweat that glosses her forehead, the flush on her skin, her lipstick smeared in places. And that smile, her wicked grin in full bloom. Her breath coming in shallow heaving puffs. Kazuha is slowing. Stilling.

You've been teetering close to that razor's edge, the precipice of it, but there was only ever going to be one winner. Yunjin pulls her mouth from you and she has no idea just how close you were, just how cruel the denial, as she stands.

You say her name as a question: why would she ever fucking stop?

Her mouth to your ear, and you feel her smirking again, her teeth against the shell: "You lost," she murmurs.

"You lost," Xinyu echoes from across the room. She pushes Kazuha away, legs still unsteady, as she slides from the couch to her feet and straightens out the fabric of her dress. You watch as Kazuha touches the gloss of her lip and sucks it off her finger. Her smile is soft and warm when she gets to her feet. It's like a stage; everything posed: Xinyu and Kazuha, standing side-by-side and arms entwined.

"Second place," says Xinyu, looking you right in the eyes.

"I get it," you say. Your cock stands at full mast. "You don't need to remind me."

"Oh," she grins, leaning against the dancer, "I absolutely do." Her hand touches Kazuha's chin and lifts, kissing her deep, tongues dancing against one another's. When Xinyu's teeth drag along her bottom lip, you know she must be able to taste herself. "She's real good. Though I do wonder what her girlfriend is like," she whispers as she eyes Yunjin.

Kazuha speaks up. "She can definitely make a girl cum." She speaks with such nonchalance as if she's discussing the weather or what brand her shampoo is and not the way she's had Yunjin eating out of her cunt.

Kazuha is a professional; it's no surprise to hear she knows how to get a girl to see god, and it's no surprise that anyone she lays with has to be on top of their game. Xinyu knows, too. She grins, and she laughs, and she holds her waist like Kazuha's some sort of prize, and it's just so Xinyu, this display. "Lucky us." She touches a hand to the dancer's hip. She says to Yunjin, "We oughta try her out."

"You're going to leave him hanging?" says Yunjin, running a hand down your chest dangerously low before taking it back, a gentle press of lips on your jaw. "That's not very fair."

"He can help you out, right?" Xinyu offers, gesturing in your direction with one of those looks in her eyes. You know that one. "Make us cum." And her hand slips to the swell of Kazuha's breast, groping greedily. It's a demand that comes out as a suggestion.

Kazuha whispers something inaudible to Xinyu's ears and it must've been good because the woman hums, intrigued, the smile on her mouth turning wider and more mischievous by the second. They both take a step, both reach out, Kazuha takes your wrist and Xinyu takes Yunjin's. Wordlessly, they take you away from the kitchen and to the window: the massive wall of windows that line your apartment with the city behind.

"I want the world to see," Kazuha explains. "To wish they were you."

"Sounds a little cheesy," you quip.

"Sounds hot," Xinyu retorts as she places her hands on the glass. She bends forward so that the swell of her ass pushes out against the hem of her skirt, and against Yunjin, who is standing right behind her. "Don't you think, babe?" she teases Yunjin.

"Very," Yunjin says. She moves her fingers along the seams of Xinyu's body, finding their way underneath her top. You hear Xinyu breathe out through her mouth. Yunjin moves closer to Xinyu's ear and bites it. "But the only ones that'll actually get to touch you, to taste you... that'll be us, huh?" She moves her fingers along the waistband of her skirt.

Xinyu turns her head back at her, smiling. "They'll be able to see how well I can take it, too. You'll let them see, won't you?"

Kazuha perches in front of you, spreading her fingers out against the glass, lowering her shoulders, arching her spine and lifting her ass to the sky for your taking. In an instant, you're on your knees and appreciating her for everything she's worth. "You don't need to be a gentleman. Just go for it. You already had the courtesy earlier," she tells you as you move closer.

"Can't I take a moment to appreciate you first?" you reply.

"Do you have to?" Her laugh is half a moan, and she's pulling up her own dress. "Are you so infatuated by the sight of me? Because, believe me—" and her words are cut off as you sink your teeth into her cheeks, your fingertips pressing tight into the skin at her hip— "you've seen more than most get to."

You run a hand up the expanse of her thigh. "Savouring every moment," you hum into her skin.

"How romantic," she laughs. There are the smallest noises in the back of her throat that come with your touch as you caress her ass. Fingers into flesh, gentle pressure until you feel her roll against it. The perfect ass. The kind people would kill for.

You hear Xinyu gasp, the sharp breath: Yunjin's got her face pressed hard between Xinyu's spread thighs from behind. "Y'know—" your girl manages between moaning pants, "wasn't sure what to expect. This isn't how we usually do things." She's trying to hold the conversation together while Yunjin works to make a ruin of it. Xinyu braces herself against the glass. "Two girls at once is a pretty good score."

"I'd call it that," you hum in agreement as you pull Kazuha's delicate panties down her thighs.

"The two of you do this often?" Yunjin asks between licking Xinyu's dripping cunt and then slapping an ass cheek hard, enough to sting. It leaves an angry pink imprint on the flesh of her. Xinyu hisses, her fingers curling against the glass as she struggles to hold herself steady. Kazuha arches her spine to give you better access.

"See them all the time," Kazuha gently laughs, the breathiest moan breaking her sentence up, and she rocks herself back against you. "Taking someone home before my show even ends."

Xinyu's eyes open, and her vision is clear. She looks over her shoulder. Her hips are slow, riding the tongue that pushes deeper inside. Her voice is steady, and she's trying hard not to let Yunjin catch her completely, though the pressure on the glass betrays her. "Been keeping an eye on us, hm?"

You're dragging your tongue against Kazuha, circling around the wetness between her legs. You taste the sweet musk of her, and then you drag the flat of your tongue along the folds. She hums with a laugh that sounds a little breathier, more strained. Your tongue moves deeper, dipping into the parting of flesh, to taste the soft, velvet feel of her, the slick heat that comes with her arousal.

"You're not exactly subtle. Hard not to notice."

You push a little firmer, face into her ass, tasting the deepest parts of her and as she shifts on her knees, she lowers a hand to your hair and grabs a handful of it, keeping you where she needs you, fingers curled around the strands and the sting that follows. You hear the noise she makes, the way she shivers under your attention. It feels good.

"We have a fan," Xinyu jokes, but her laughter is cut off by a moan as Yunjin sucks harder on the soft folds between her legs. "Maybe two." There's the sound of skin hitting skin, and then a gasp. You know the sounds of Xinyu when her skin is slapped, or her flesh is bit.

Yunjin's hands roam her body freely. They're everywhere: touching, teasing. Her nails scratch and drag, and Xinyu groans when teeth meet her inner thigh again.

Kazuha is dripping against your chin now. Every lick sends another jolt up her spine, and every circle against her sensitive clit has her moaning. You squeeze her ass. She rocks forward. "Mhm..." Her lips part, and her jaw goes slack.

"What a pretty fucking mess," you hum against the wetness.

Xinyu takes Kazuha by the chin, pulling her into a kiss, and there's no way for anyone else to appreciate how beautiful they look against each other. Xinyu runs a hand up into Kazuha's hair, and her hips are still grinding, still pushing down onto Yunjin's mouth. "I'm gonna cum if she doesn't stop."

"Cum with me?" Kazuha says. It sounds desperate, almost needy in its demand: an urgency to share this. To do it together.

It doesn't sound like a bad idea at all.

"Not stopping," is the last thing Yunjin says as she continues to feast. You think she might have a point to prove, but if that means she wants to eat a pussy that good, then so be it. Your mouth works Kazuha faster: you spread the folds with your fingers and go to work on her clit. Your teeth catch the sensitive flesh, and she shakes with it, thighs threatening to tremble and tense, a strangled cry falling from her lips that she smothers by moaning it right into Xinyu's lips.

The taste of Kazuha on your tongue is something you'll never get tired of. Her sweet juice spills over, and when she arches, she cums harder, cries out louder until finally, her knees start to shake. That's how it starts, and with her orgasm comes Xinyu's too. There's a moment when the two are tangled together, when the sounds that fall out of them echo each other's. Their voices meet, their moans mix, and their tongues clash in their kiss, like they can't bear to keep any distance from one another. It's intimate, even amidst the other mouths on them. Even as Yunjin and you coax them through it. When it passes, the two cling onto each other, holding each other up, both of them trembling with the aftermath of a shared bliss.

Kazuha falls first: with a slow slump she sinks down to the floor, falling away from your hungry mouth and onto her hands and knees on the hardwood. She pants, heavy breaths, her head bowed, her hair in her eyes. There's a contented hum to the room as it all begins to settle down. Kazuha turns to you: there's that gorgeous smile, as she pushes back hair from her face. Her makeup is smudged. Her lipstick's a mess.

Xinyu follows after, but not without first stroking Yunjin's hair and kissing her, thanking her. Xinyu falls into Kazuha's embrace, the two of them holding each other up on the floor. Their heads are on one another's shoulders.

You lose your balance to a hard push. Your ass hitting the ground hard, sitting flat on the hardwood.

"Your turn." Yunjin grins, a hand pushing at the centre of your chest, keeping you from rising.

"You're going to do that right here?"

She grins at you. "Right now."

From here on out, it's just an inevitable, sordid decline into depravity. There is no message here, no moral, no meaning beyond the mindless, the reckless. There's nothing profound about the way Yunjin slips the other strap off her shoulder and pulls the material down to her waist to expose her braless chest. There's no wisdom in the way she moves into your lap, arms hooked over your shoulders.

No revelations come from how her bare pussy slides against the head of your cock. No matters of the world solved by the way you grope her tits in your palms. Nothing poetic about the sound that slips between her pretty red lips when you enter her cunt. This is just the way things are. This is barely a footnote on the night, not an epic climax. It's not a resolution or a denouement. Just another impending orgasm. You're just lucky you're at the centre of it all.

"Give us a show, won't you?" Xinyu murmurs.

Yunjin's got a smile on her lips that says, sure, sure, I can do that. She puts her hands on your chest, pinning you against the ground, her hips lifting and rolling as she slides you in and out of herself. "You think we should thank them? The people in the toilets?"

"Why's that?"

"Well, we'd have gone in there." Yunjin pushes her hips down hard onto you to punctuate her sentence. "We'd have fucked." She's taking control here: riding you in the centre of the hardwood floor. "You'd have cum." Another roll of the hips. "In me. On me." She gasps, moans. "That would have been that." It's all being said so nonchalantly. "But now, it's like this."

You laugh a little as you watch the woman ride you for all you're worth. "It's fitting," you say as you push yourself up from the floor, sitting face-to-face with the woman riding you. "Because you deserve so much more than a quickie on a dirty toilet." You wrap an arm around the small of her back. "And I'd much rather take my time with you." You buck your hips up into her, commandeering the rhythm as your pace starts to climb. You drive into her, pounding hard, as you bury your face between her breasts.

There are the smallest of noises that break free from Yunjin: the whines that get trapped behind her throat and the moans that slip between her teeth. She lets you handle her, and the only sound she makes is that soft whimpering and that sharp hiss when your fingers grip tight at her skin, and when her body slams down against your cock, you feel her tense and then shake around your shaft, squeezing and clamping down hard. She stifles her sounds.

"You good?" you whisper. She doesn't answer. At least, not at first. She gives herself a moment to catch her breath, as her nails drag across your shoulder blade.

She moans out a reply. "Oh yeah. So good. I'm so—" her words trail into a hiss of a breath.

You push her onto her back, pinning her to the ground as she laughs, arms above her head and eyes on yours, as you pick the pace back up again. "Show's still on," Xinyu says, somewhere on your peripheries.

"He fucks like a..." Kazuha whispers, unable to find the right words.

"I know," Xinyu laughs, before leaning in to kiss at Kazuha's jaw. "Doesn't he just?" The words are barely a whisper in her ear.

There's this shift in your periphery, Xinyu taking a place on the floor, her hand behind Kazuha's head as she spreads her legs again. It's rare you've found anyone who can keep up with Xinyu, but tonight's proven to be the exception. Kazuha's on all fours, leaning in for another taste. The sight has you groan.

Yunjin laughs at that, pulling your face back to hers, her legs wrapping around your hips, locking behind your back as she pulls you into her. "Don't get distracted now, honey," she says. Her fingertips trace along the muscles in your shoulders. Her lips curl up into a smile as her body shivers underneath yours, and you can feel it: that sweet clamping down of her pussy around your cock, and you know that she's close to coming again.

"Got an idea," you whisper.

"Wait, wait—" Yunjin claws at your back, holding you closer, tighter. "Just let me—" and you feel it. Her wet heat coating your length, pulsing. You roll her into it, feel the slick mess as her hips twist against the hardwood. She shakes, head thrown back, eyes fluttering shut, and lips parted. "There we go. Now, idea?"

"Come here." It's seamless, the way you move her around and behind Kazuha, positioning her face right against her girlfriend's ass. "Doesn't that look so good?"

"Beautiful," she says.

"Bet you eat that ass every chance you get, I know I would."

"Me too," Xinyu chimes.

"Yeah?" Yunjin says as she traces her hands along Kazuha's hips and curves, the lines that make her. She touches her thighs, and then she moves her fingertips to the cheeks of her ass. "Well." A kiss on the flesh of it. "You know. She does have such a pretty ass," she whispers.

"You both do," you reply as you mimic Yunjin's touches on her own ass.

She smiles into the skin, pressing more soft kisses along it. Her fingernails dig in gently as her mouth presses a little harder against it. Yunjin drags her nails over it, making marks. Yunjin moans softly, burying her mouth deeper between the cheeks. Kazuha arches with a moan of her own, rocking back. Yunjin sinks deeper, eating her girlfriend's ass like it was the last meal she'd have for days. The sounds are wet and hungry. Her moans are muffled as her mouth does its work. "God..." Yunjin groans into the flesh. Her hands roam up to Kazuha's sides, and she digs her fingers in and holds her, rocking the woman's hips against her face. It's like she can't get enough, and the taste must be so fucking intoxicating.

You're back inside Yunjin, the end of the train. She shivers again, moans again. Her nails drag up the small of Kazuha's back, marking the line of her spine with the gentle red trails. Her teeth scrape against Kazuha's skin, and she presses the pad of her tongue between her asscheeks again.

Yunjin's dress is still bunched at the waist, you bunch it and then hold it firm: it pulls tight across her toned stomach and gives you a handle, a grip to hold. You thrust into her, hard. She groans into Kazuha, and in turn, Kazuha gasps into Xinyu.

You hear Xinyu moaning, a note that arcs and echoes and then tapers off again. Kazuha is humming, soft and quiet, and Yunjin groans deeply. When the three of you all start to sync up, to fall into one steady beat, it feels right. It's everything falling together. Waves on the sand.

Xinyu is gasping; her head is back, and her throat is exposed, and her body is writhing with pleasure. She has her fingers buried in Kazuha's hair, clutching at it desperately, as she rocks back onto her tongue, onto her mouth, her hips bucking erratically. You're fucking Yunjin in slow and deep thrusts that have her moaning and shuddering, her fingers gripping hard into the dancer's thighs, and she's eating that ass with hunger, her own body responding to each motion of your hips in a ripple of a wave that runs up her spine, one after the next after the next.

This was never meant to last. There is no way.

You're on edge. Xinyu's on the precipice, and Kazuha is shaking.

There is no way, you say it again, and that's how your mind feels: unsteady, untethered, and it's in that haze that you slip your free hand to Yunjin's hip and guide it under her, have her press two fingers into the slickness that's so familiar, that she knows so well. You tell her. "Make your girlfriend cum." It's not an order. You've no authority here, in the mess that this has become, but she does, doesn't she: she's the only one who could get someone to sing for the world to see.

It's just seconds after when she slips the digits up inside that the woman is shaking, her back arching, and she's moaning in tandem with the way her hips roll back on you. Yunjin's fingers plunge deeper inside, and Kazuha shivers in delight. And then there's the smallest cry of a sound, and she's spilling wet onto the hand that keeps pushing her down. "You're so beautiful, Kazu," Yunjin murmurs, the words muffled by how she's buried her face between those cheeks, she's so damn close to her own climax. Kazuha is trembling, shaking. She moans out her release into Xinyu's wet cunt.

Thighs clamp hard on Kazuha's head. "Yes—" Xinyu cries out, as her hips rock upwards, bucking on Kazuha's mouth as she rides the orgasm hard, hands at her own breasts, groping greedily as her tongue drags her bottom lip under white, teeth bared: it's like a growl, almost, or a snarl, her eyes open wide, but staring right through everything.

And that's what pushes you over. You grab hard onto Yunjin's hip, the bunched fabric of her dress. Your fingernails drag against her flesh as you rut into her, hips thrusting again and again. She can't help the gasp, the sound, as your nails scrape deep into her thigh. She's so sensitive. The skin so soft and so receptive to touch. That noise turns into a moan. You know the sounds of her now. She doesn't need to tell you. You know. The pace of her breathing changes, and you hear the breathy little whimpers. When she gasps and when her cunt flutters, you can tell that she's close. And you know, when she cums because of the shuddering that runs up her body, the tensing of her muscles and that moaning that starts low and quiet before it grows, and then it explodes out of her in a sudden burst, like fireworks.

Xinyu's curling a finger. A beckon. You have a place to take, kneeling over her, and a finish that she demands.

"You know what to do, don't you?" she teases, a laugh on the tip of her tongue: that sharp and mischievous smirk, and the eyes that gleam in the light.

"I do."

She turns her gaze on the couple on the floor, the girls who've sunk onto one another. You can hear Yunjin laughing. Kazuha's fingers trail over her face, tracing the outline. "Go ahead," Xinyu says to you: not permission but expectation.

She presents her face as if it's a canvas and, yeah, sure, maybe you've done this more times than you can count, but you've still got your hand on your dick and the other on the back of Xinyu's neck, rubbing like it's the first time, and—

There it goes.

"God," Yunjin groans, "that's pretty."

Kazuha's contented hum agrees. They both reach a hand out to run their fingers across the mess of your cum, spreading it across the smooth expanse of skin, painting their art of Xinyu. There are no lines, no patterns, just the abstract swirl and the smearing that follows.

"Should take a photo," Kazuha suggests. "For posterity's sake."

"Too late," Yunjin mutters as she leans in to lick at the slick of white on the woman's cheek.

Soon, they're both at it, cleaning your girlfriend like she was the world's finest delicacy. And she basks in the attention. The centre of it. She's used to that kind of spotlight, though you don't think anyone shines as bright as her.

Yunjin takes a mouthful, opening to show the white on her tongue, and then her lips collide with Xinyu's. The cum is passed, tongue-to-tongue, a kiss shared. They share it with each other, a kiss that is truly sordid. You hear Kazuha's moan of excitement before you even realise what's happening: she joins in, making the kiss a trio. Three mouths passing your cum back and forth and the sound of their soft moans of delight.

It's hard to fathom that this is only the beginning. It's almost as difficult to comprehend just how far it's already gone, and the truth, as you see it, is that it doesn't need to make sense. Some nights are destined for excess. Nights like these. With a trio like this. You're not asking for any answers: all you're asking is that the four of you sink deeper, lose yourself to it.

The girls break the kiss, and Xinyu says, "You know, he has this walk-in shower. The big kind." You can hear the smirk in her tone like she knows just the kind of trouble she'll cause with her words.

"Yeah? I bet we could all fit in it," Kazuha hums, and there's that look of hers again, a little devious but mostly playful: a look of a girl who just wants to please everyone she comes into contact with. She can't seem to get enough, and she's just dying for a taste of more. Her hands slide along both women's waists, pulling them in a tighter embrace. Xinyu looks at you.

"You did always say—"

"I did."

"And, honestly, there's no better—"

"I know," you tell her, climbing to your feet and holding out a hand. "Come on."

[prael]

Day 11: Threats And Treats

Newjeans Danielle x male reader smut

words: 4,585 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

She is furious.

She's been in your class for barely a few months, but now she gives you an ultimatum. Either you change her grade, or she'll report you for sexual harassment.

It's a threat that you laugh off.

You have no reason to be afraid. Sure, Danielle's been throwing herself at you ever since you became her teacher. She wears her skirts too short, and her tops too low, and the way she asks you to tutor her privately after school can't be entirely innocent.

But it's not as if you've done anything wrong. You have, in fact, ignored Danielle's advances.

And there's no understating just how hard that has been. She has perched herself on your desk after class and given you a view of her lacy underwear. She has worn her gym shorts to meet you, and the tight material has hugged the cheeks of her firm little ass so snugly that it makes you want to drool. Painted her lips in that deep red that you know would look perfect wrapped around your cock. She brushed up against you in the hallways with a sly little grin and pressed her soft little tits into your side.

"Danielle, get the hell out of my office."

She turns up her nose without a word and she storms off.

-

She doesn't report you. Instead, she shows up at your office an hour later.

You have a lot of other papers to grade. You've had a long week. And Danielle's attitude is making your day even harder. You are in no mood to play games with this bratty girl. You don't look up when she enters. You barely glance at her.

"I'm not changing your grade," you say dismissively as you mark another awful essay with an F and then flip it over. You wonder how Danielle would react if you gave her a failing grade instead.

Danielle is undaunted. "You have to. You know that's not the grade I deserved."

"I scored you exactly like I did the others, and that is the score you got," you reply curtly, looking over another paper. "I can show you the rubric if you'd like, but it won't change your score. Now please, I'm very busy."

She steps closer. You don't bother to look up until Danielle places one slender finger underneath your chin, tilts up your face, and looks straight down at you. The bratty young woman has some nerve. Her touch sends a tingle down your spine, but you try to ignore it.

"I can make things difficult for you," she says. She's giving you this piercing gaze. Her hair is tied back in a neat ponytail and her lips are bright red again.

"Miss, if you touch me again or make any demands of me, I'll have to call someone to have you removed from my office." You look right back into those eyes, trying to keep a cool facade.

"And how would that look? If someone walked in and I am kneeled on your desk." She whispers as she raises her right knee onto it first and then lifts herself up. "Maybe I could have a tear going down my face." She runs her finger down the side of her cheek. "Or maybe I could have my legs spread. What would they think?"

"Get the fuck off my desk."

"Oh, sir. I do like it when you swear at me. It's kind of hot." She smirks and she shuffles further onto your desk. Her knees push away papers and files. She's such a dainty little thing—you've thought that so many times—that you could lift her right off and carry her away by her firm little ass. You wonder if that would turn her on. "I'm not getting down. Not unless you give me the grade I want."

"Danielle. Get off my desk right now." You warn again.

"Sir, we both know I'm not a B student, don't we?" She asks as she runs her hand up her slender thigh, bringing up her skirt with it and giving you a full view of her lacey pink underwear. Her bare thighs are smooth. Her panties look delicate like you could just rip through them with a single hard tug.

She knows exactly what she's doing, the little minx.

"Are you going to change my grade for me?"

She rests her skirt at her hips, leaving herself exposed right in your eyeline.

"Danielle, you're a student, this is unacceptable." There's a quiver in your voice, but it's still the truth. This is wrong, and she needs to be punished. You want to bend her over your knee, pull down her panties and give her a damn good spanking until her cheeks turn the same shade as her lips. Then you want to pull down your trousers, take out your cock and... No.

You wince at yourself. These are not thoughts you can afford to entertain. No matter how tempting Danielle makes them. No matter how good she'd feel (you know she would feel so good). No, you can't do that.

"Sir, listen to me. Either let me work hard for you and earn my A. Or I tell the principal. Tell her how you tried to fuck me," she purrs. Her eyes flash as she challenges you.

She leans forward, pushing more files off the desk as she does. Danielle's small breasts are nearly to your face, and you wonder how her soft flesh would feel pressed against your skin.

"Well?"

Her perfume wafts around you, filling your nostrils with her sweet, intoxicating smell.

"Please. Stop this," you whisper, trying to remain strong. But you know that you can't resist her much longer.

She reaches a hand up and brushes your cheek and her touch tingles against your skin. It wouldn't be so difficult to pull her in right now and give in to all your urges.

"No."

She leans in and whispers, "Then I'll make things even more difficult."

Danielle suddenly clambers off the desk, pulling papers and stationary with her, and down to her knees. Your chair rolls back a few inches, but now her head is right between your legs.

"This isn't going to work," you lie, your breath hitching. Your heart beats faster in your chest as you realize what is happening. You don't want it to work, you tell yourself. You can't want it to work. Not when she is a goddamn student.

"It will. Trust me," she whispers.

And then you feel the button of your jeans pop and hear the sound of the zipper. You can't look down, you just can't. Instead, you stare straight forward at the clock in front of you. Watching it tick slowly.

Your breathing becomes heavier as she fiddles with the waist of your boxers. She's going to get her grade. There's nothing you can do. She knows that now, and it makes her giggle. It is a girly, innocent little giggle, and that makes everything feel so much worse.

You can feel your cock swelling and hardening underneath her fingers, and you know that there's no way to stop her now. Her hand is wrapped around your shaft. And then, her hot breath on your skin, followed by the wet touch of her tongue.

Your eyes shut tight and your hands clench the armrests. Her tongue slides around you and then, her mouth closes over your head.

"Oh, fuck." You breathe. Your whole body is tingling as Danielle starts to suck your cock, her lips wrapped so tightly around you, her mouth so warm and welcoming. She's a little bit sloppy, a little bit too fast, but you can't help loving every moment. She has you in the palm of her hand now, quite literally, and she's working your cock with all the enthusiasm you could ever want from a bratty girl who's decided that you're going to give her exactly what she wants.

Your hands clench into fists, but as Danielle keeps bobbing up and down your cock, you just can't keep them still. You've resisted this girl for so long. You've been a good man, a decent man, despite her constant efforts to seduce you.

You can't be good now.

You let go of the armrest and reach down, and you place a firm hand on her head. She squeals with surprise and delight as you force her down onto your cock, making her take you deeper than she was prepared to go. And that noise only makes it feel even better, sending tingling pleasure all through your skin. You can feel the head of your cock hitting the back of her throat and the pressure as she gags, the vibrations as she moans, and you don't let up. You don't want to.

You hate yourself for it; you know how wrong it is; you know how it would play out if anyone found out; you know you should feel guilty as sin, and yet all you can feel is pleasure as Danielle bobs up and down on your cock.

You dare to indulge at the sight: a beautiful girl on her knees, sucking your cock, taking you deep into her mouth. Lips laden in red gloss stretched around your cock. Wide-eyed, with mascara-coated lashes. You can feel your balls tightening. The heat in your stomach rises as the pleasure becomes overwhelming. She sucks harder, she moans a little louder, and you know you're close.

Maybe it's just how wrong it is that makes it all feel so good. Or maybe it's just because it's her.

"Sir?" She says it between planting kisses on the tip of your cock, all while her dainty little hand jerks at the shaft, her fingers barely wrapping around you. She's been teasing you for so long now. Months and months. You can hardly stand it anymore. "I want to taste it."

Oh god, how you want to give it to her.

"Danielle..." you gasp.

"I've thought about it so often. When you were in the classroom talking theories and applications, all I wanted to do was get down on my knees and let you fuck my face."

"Danielle..." It's all you can say, because what can you say? This is your student, for god's sake.

"You know how many times you left me soaked after a lesson?" Her voice is low and husky, filled with desire, and she has this little twist in her wrist every time she strokes your cock, and she is driving you crazy. "I'd run home and slip my fingers into my underwear and make myself cum."

"Stop."

"Want it, don't you?" she taunts, and then as if it's some rehearsed move, she lets go of your cock. The absence of touch makes you ache with need. She's smiling so wide that her eyes smile too, and there's a gentle laugh because she knows exactly what she's doing. "Then you better change my grade."

She sits back on her haunches, still between your legs, looking up at you with expectation. She glances over her shoulder to your computer—a suggestion (or a demand) to change her grade right this very second, or else the fun stops.

You're a weak man, aren't you? She has your cock out and your heart pounding. She's giving you an ultimatum that you can't refuse, so you're standing up, looking down at her. Your pants have slipped to the ground. Danielle's face is level with your throbbing, pulsating cock.

"You win," you say with a sigh, as you reach over her to type on the computer, changing her grade. You have barely hit the enter key before she's up and wrapping her lips around you again, her moan vibrating your cock. Your reward for breaking the rules—for betraying every ounce of professional integrity.

Your reward feels so good. You grab a handful of her hair and force her head back down onto you. You watch yourself disappear between those red-stained lips again. You don't hold back. Standing over the cute girl, your cock in her mouth, you thrust your hips forward. Every time you hit the back of her throat you feel her gag. She's trying so hard to suppress the reflex. She wants you to believe that she's an experienced little slut, but her red cheeks and her wet eyes give away the truth.

"Good girl. Take it all."

Danielle looks up at you with those pretty doe eyes, so full of mischief. She has won, and you both know it. But you can't feel sorry now. Not with her on her knees, and her lips around you. This has to happen. So you're fucking her mouth, pinning her against your desk, while she grasps at her own chest. Clenching at her breasts through the material of her shirt and squeezing her thighs together in some attempt to satisfy the burning desire you know she feels.

Her jaw hangs open, leaving you nothing more than a hole to use. You can't keep this up anymore, the tension in your body can't take it any more, and neither can she. She's gasping, choking, spluttering, fighting for her breath as you use your grip on her hair to make her swallow every inch.

A smudge on her cheek, where a tear has spilt, and mascara is starting to stain.

"Look at me," you snap, jerking her by the hair as her focus drifts.

"Yes, sir," she replies obediently, locking her eyes right on yours while looking up. You bite your lip. It won't be long. The heat has been rising, and you know you're close.

She seems to know it too, and her eyes seem to say just how much she wants you to fill her. They show you how much she wants to take her victory. That's enough to send you right over the edge.

"Mmh!" she moans as you push your entire cock into her mouth. Her gagging and protesting does nothing to prevent the contractions from running through your cock. She feels like heaven as your cock jerks, and your eyes shut tight while pleasure overwhelms you. You can feel yourself pumping load after load into her waiting mouth. Thick rope after thick rope. You didn't know you could cum like this. You haven't cum like this since...ever.

She's working you as much as her tired state allows, her tongue shifting and coaxing out your fluids. Draining you of every last drop of cum.

You pull out and she gasps for air, chest heaving. Her face is marked, her lipstick smudged. What's left on her lips looks almost as if it's bruising, and you revel in it. She looks spent. Completely used. She's even pulled one hand up to cover her mouth. With this expression, she can't pull off a confident slut act, and this satisfies you. She's panting, like a dog after a hard run.

You both win. Mutual victory. Satisfaction and defeat.

You slide down into your chair, the adrenaline running its course. For now, everything is exactly the way it should be. As if none of this has ever happened. She's checking the screen and grinning. Her eyelids flutter, and she smiles back at you—almost bashful. Relief that she got what she came for.

Danielle is just happy, while you're thinking about all the ways you would like to pin her to your desk.

-

It's now well into spring, the snow has melted and the seasons are changing. You've been waiting for a while. Weeks have passed without her coming into your class or your office or talking to you about the latest assignment.

Not that you've minded. After your last encounter, you're prepared for a little bit of distance. You're still thinking about how things went. (You're always thinking about it.)

It's all going to change today. See, the latest grades were posted this morning, and you imagine that Danielle is not going to be pleased with hers. You picture her stopping by your office shortly, demanding another change, and of course, you're going to oblige. You're getting hard just at the thought.

Even the deepest, darkest, dirtiest corners of your mind hadn't prepared for this. You didn't know Danielle's schedule, of course, but it becomes abundantly clear she came right here from cheerleader practice. Athletic, tiny, and body-hugging—all words appropriate to describe the tiny little cheer uniform she is sporting. Her shorts short enough to almost reveal her full cheeks, and her top is way too thin. Thin enough, in fact, for you to tell that Danielle wasn't wearing a bra underneath, and you could see her pert, perky little nipples—making her excitement obvious.

"Sir, what the fuck is this?" Danielle holds out her phone and points at her grade: a B+. "You'd better do something about it."

She stands across from your desk, the image of youthful indifference, her hip cocked and her arms crossed. It is a stance filled with sass.

"I think you failed to take my instruction, my guidance, properly and for that, I had to dock marks."

"And if I show you now, how well I take instruction, will you increase it?" Her head tilts slightly and her teeth rake over her lower lip, and her tone is so impudent, and something about her attitude makes the blood surge through your veins. It's like every word from her insolent mouth is spurring you on to teach her a lesson. Make her moan and scream your name. Fill her up like you did before and erase that smirk from her pretty, pretty little face.

"There is a little lee-way." A teasing, mischievous giggle. "Maybe there's something we can agree on?" You suggest, your eyes tracking the curve of her toned legs. You can feel your pants getting uncomfortably tight at the thought of making Danielle squeal.

"Where do you want me, sir?"

You both know that the bartering is pointless. This deal isn't new, it's a continuation. "Bend over my desk. Like the good little girl that you are."

She strolls right around your desk, swaying her hips a little bit more than necessary, and you aren't sure if the minx is putting a show on for your sake or whether it's just her natural saunter. Either way, as soon as she puts her elbows down on your desk, you're sure that her display was planned to the smallest detail.

Slowly, she pushes her ass up and back, looking over her shoulder at you. "Can I have a word, please, sir? I'm having some trouble understanding," she calls over to you, the most suggestive smile creasing her face, and you try not to let the effect of her bratty charms bother you.

"Danielle, I gave you ample explanation of the assignment." You remind her. You can't keep the humour out of your voice.

"This is true, but...it's the sort of thing I really need drilled into me." Danielle presses the very tip of one blood-red fingernail to the desk and draws it in the shape of a circle.

"I know the syllabus can be a little... hard," you say as you stand behind her. You lean forward and place your hands on the desk. The cheap wood groans in protest. You can smell her intoxicating perfume. She's definitely been driving you crazy.

"So hard," she whispers as you lean over her body.

"Do you need some extra attention, Danielle?"

"I do, sir." She shifts her body, rolling her lower back and standing on the toes, pressing the curve of her pert little ass against your crotch. "Please, sir."

It has been weeks since you had her. How could you resist a come-on like that? How could anyone? Slowly you slide your hands down her sides and grab her hips. You feel a wave of perverted, forbidden lust as you grip her flesh; she feels so good. She shivers slightly at your touch, which gives you a wicked thrill.

Danielle is so small underneath you, so petite. Your hands move from her waist, stroking along the smooth material of the skirt. She draws in a short breath as you place your hand underneath the little article of clothing. She had removed her panties, as you suspect, she would. So there is nothing to prevent you from stroking the delicate, velvety soft skin of her lovely little pussy. It's already wet—which isn't surprising, but it's even hotter than you could have dreamed.

"Danielle, you don't have underwear," you murmur.

"I know sir, so I guess the next part should be easy." She starts to wiggle against your hand, drawing up that tiny skirt a little further, displaying herself to you.

She's perfectly prepared, so you draw your finger deeper between her soft, silken lips, finding her entrance, teasing her gently, drawing mewling, desperate sounds out of the slutty girl bent over your desk. You take a moment just to savour her gasps and little whimpers. To drink in her pleasure. There's something so damn satisfying, knowing the effect that you have on her. Then, you start to pull your fingers down, toward her beautiful little clit, stroking it, working her little bundle of nerves while her excited sounds just get more and more needy.

You continue to play with her pussy while enjoying the way that her tiny breasts squish against the desk, how her hands are clasping desperately for purchase and how she rolls her little hips against you, eagerly seeking out more. She's so consumed, so lost in the moment that it doesn't surprise you when the question finally falls out of her lips.

"Sir, am I going to get an A?"

That smug fucking little minx. She knows exactly what she's doing. "Yes, Danielle. An A." You promise.

"Give it to me, sir," she says with the most expectant little sigh, and the temptation proves too much for you. So you remove your hand and slip your fingers in your mouth. Tasting her. Savouring her. How far you'd gone. She groans in disappointment as you withdraw, but she stops protesting as she hears the sound of your belt. Is it anticipation that has goosebumps blooming on her skin?

When you've freed yourself from your pants, it is no struggle at all to position your cock between those sweet, soft folds and draw a moan from both of you.

"What are you waiting for?" she whines impatiently, forcing herself back against you, enticing you.

Your only response is to smile and continue to enjoy the sight of her pinned against your desk. Her bare, narrow lower back is fully exposed, leading to such a cute, full little ass that is just aching to be taken. You marvel at her every detail as the head of your cock presses right up against her tight hole, tempting you into her body, luring you in.

"Sir," she whispers, a husky, throaty invitation.

Before any more of her words can fill the air, you start to push inside her slowly. Every inch that passes makes her draw a sharper breath and keeps her gasping for air.

Every whimper that passes her lips spurs you on, while every quivering contraction her pussy performs tempts you to pound every single inch of yourself into her. Every deep noise draws your attention, everything she does is captivating.

By the time your every inch is settled within her, you reach down and grip her shoulder, drawing her body into yours. And she's so darn adorable that she struggles to form the words that tumble over her lips, leaving her face twisted in a mask of effort and need. Her breath stills every time you rock inside her.

You lean over her body, your chest against her back, wanting to sink deeper into her; feeling the beat of her heart and the heat of her flushed skin.

In this moment, as the pace increases, time slows. Danielle's lithe body bows against you with every thrust. Words aren't necessary, her moans are better. They tell you just how much you are pleasing her.

She earns every part of that bump in grade through the slick tightness of her cunt, the arching of her back, the fluttering, clenching massaging strokes, and the beautiful noises tumbling from her cherry lips.

"Oh, my god..." Danielle grunts. "Harder!"

And, of course, that pleasure has a price—your control is slipping, the need is steadily becoming more intense and it's harder to resist, especially when it feels so good, your hips keep rocking, every stroke producing incredible frissons of pure, white heat. And the heat grows. You keep picking up speed, keeping her moans coming.

It isn't long before that gorgeous girl, taut and eager, clenches against your unyielding shaft, as if afraid it would disappear within her. Her breath catches as she reaches the pinnacle, before coming apart with a shrieked vowel. She bites her lower lip and digs her nails into the desk. She rides it out until every last drop of pleasure drains from her body.

While watching Danielle lose herself, your resolve disintegrates. You pick up the tempo, pounding into the pliable, supple and downright fuckable cheerleader. Her sharp, ragged gasps dissolve into a plaintive moan. Every stroke drives you closer and closer to the end.

You lean forward and whisper in Danielle's ear, "I'm gonna cum."

She nods her head quickly and urges you on, "Do it, sir."

So, you wrap one arm around her body and press your chest flush against her back, feeling the movements of her every muscle in time with yours. You can barely believe just how incredible this girl is.

"Fill me, sir," she begs as she reaches for your face. Danielle takes you by surprise as she turns to face you and places a kiss on your lips. It's light and quick, but it makes you spill your load inside her all the same. That slight, innocent contact seals the deal and your whole world erupts.

You're drowning. Drowning in pleasure and satisfaction, the throes of ecstasy wash over you as you continue to buck against your perfect little student. Every thrust leaves you breathing heavier than the last, and it isn't long before your forehead is pressed against her naked back as you pump another wave of sticky, liquid heat deep into Danielle's trembling body.

It is impossible to measure how long you two remain there, the line between where she begins and you end blurred. When you eventually start to untangle yourselves, she slinks away and returns your shared gaze with a satisfied grin.

You sit back and catch your breath, while she starts gathering herself together.

Your eyes trace her figure, the shape of her breasts, the slope of her neck. Danielle notices, because her lips curl up just a little more, and she shoots you the cutest little wink. "I know what you did, sir."

"And what was that?" you ask, playing along. Danielle picks up her jacket from the floor and then slips it on. You watch every movement she makes, your heart thumping in your chest as if trying to escape your ribcage.

She cocks her head. "Well, I think it was pretty clever, actually. But I've caught onto your game, sir. That assignment was perfect, we both know it." Danielle leans in, placing her hand on your chest. "Which means that this was never about grades. In future, you can just ask me, sir." She places a quick kiss on your lips. 

[prael]

Day 10: Gambit

Nmixx Lily x male reader smut

words: 3,300 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

"Ah Fuck," Lily sighed, fiddling with her hair.

Stylists spent hours doing her hair, makeup, nails, clothes, all for the camera. Lily just knows how good she looked today. The stylists did their jobs, but she did hers too. She put her face into that angle that she knew drove people crazy. She is a professional, even if she wishes she wasn't.

She waited for hours backstage. Lily waited and waited. They all did. All of the group were just sitting there, in that green room, playing on their phones. There wasn't much to do except wait, take a nap, or eat snacks if the managers would let them. If Lily had her way, she'd eat nothing but those little chocolate-covered pretzels. “They're so good,” she always tells you.

Eventually, she had to get up on stage, stand around and smile. Then came the dance and the singing, that stuff. The usual routine, the usual performance, the same one they'd done hundreds of times. It was a dance that was burned into her muscle memory. She didn't have to think, it was like she wasn't even in control of her own body. She hit every fucking note like the pro that she is, and everyone cheered.

It's not that Lily is ungrateful. She is grateful! She knows she has a lot. But... she just couldn't help but feel a bit unsatisfied.

Like there is some huge hole inside her, and she just can't seem to fill it.

Like there's some other way she's supposed to be living.

The rest of the show goes as expected. People clap. Everyone takes pictures and videos. And they're off the stage. It's a short ride back to their apartment. They eat, they shower, they go to sleep.

Most of them do, anyway.

Lily is pulling on a hoodie and sweatpants. She is putting on a hat and pulling it low over her eyes before fitting a face mask over her mouth and nose. Lily doesn't look at herself in the mirror, and she leaves her phone in the apartment, keeping only her wallet on her as she leaves. She finds your car where it's always parked. Lily doesn't know what she'd do if you weren't waiting for her there.

"Hi, babe," you greet her. "Good day?"

"Yeah, sure," Lily grumbles, rolling her eyes. She is in a pissy mood, but that's nothing new these days. It takes time for her to adjust to being free again and to be happy now that you're around. She isn't angry at you. Lily's angry at everything else. She knows that you know that, too.

"What do you want to do?" You ask her.

"I just want to get drunk," she sighs. She's still in a bad mood. You know what will help with that.

You know it's not the answer. The bottom of a bottle never solves anything. Yet, you still took the time earlier in the day to pick up her favourite bottle of wine, and you know it's waiting for her at your apartment.

So that's where you take her. She's a little less tense once you get her inside. She's kicking off her shoes at the door, pulling off her mask and tossing it away, throwing off the hat, her hair falling free to her shoulders. Her eyes close, and she lets out a long sigh. It's almost like she can finally relax here. Like the tension can drain away and she can just... stop.

"Lily, babe, you know I love you so this comes from a good place, and I know you love singing and dancing, but you don't have to be an idol if it makes you so unhappy." You say to her. She's looking at you like she wants to scream at you. She knows that she can scream at you, that you'd take it. That's what she loves about you.

But she doesn't scream, Lily only contemplates what you have said. She takes her time, letting her anger subside, her body relax and her mind to calm down. "I can't just leave. I don't even want to leave. I just want a break." Lily doesn't know how else to put it. "Like, maybe if I got hurt, or sick, or even pregnant. They'd make me take time off."

You know that Lily is only half-serious, but she sounds like she's thought this over before, and she has.

"You'd be a cute mom." You tell her, and she is bright red in an instant, the blush on her cheeks darkening her face.

"Hell yeah, I can fulfil my dream of being a milf," Lily playfully says, and for the first time today, she cracks a genuine smile before heading for the wine rack. She quickly finds her favourite.

"I'll be the stay-at-home dad while mommy is out strutting her stuff on stage." You tease, wrapping your arms around Lily's waist, holding her from behind.

She chuckles and pours the wine into the glass. "Imagine the controversy too. A big middle finger to all those delulu fans." Lily is giggling to herself as she drinks. "That'd make it so worth it. They'd lose their minds."

"Everyone would go insane. An active idol having a kid? That'd be crazy." You add to the conversation. Lily is looking at you with this smirk that is so uniquely her. She looks a bit like the devil when she does it, but it is so fucking cute at the same time.

Lily turns to you with the straightest of faces. In an uncharacteristically deadpan tone, she says, "Put a baby in me." Her lips twitch. You know that she's fighting the urge to smile.

You can't help it. You laugh, and you kiss her. Lily's mouth is warm from the wine. She is sweet and fragrant. She tastes so damn good.

"Put a baby in me!" She laughs into your mouth, but she is still trying to kiss you, and you're still trying to kiss her. It's all very chaotic. Your hands are still on her waist, her fingers on her glass, and she's trying to press herself against you, and you're trying to press against her.

She puts down the wine and then her arms are around your neck. "Come on," she says between kisses, "let's make a baby." It's ridiculous. This is ridiculous. Lily knows it's ridiculous, but that's why it's funny, and why you're still kissing each other. Her fingers are running through your hair and you're grabbing at her ass. She's pulling away just to smile at you, and you can't help but smile back at her. Lily is a ray of sunshine.

"Fuck," she whispers as you lean in, and you kiss her again. "Come on," she repeats and then starts pulling at your shirt. You help her take it off, tossing it away, not caring where it lands. "We're gonna make a baby, right?" She's looking into your eyes, and you can see how eager she is. "You're gonna cum in me?"

The two of you are no strangers to a little bit of roleplay, but this feels like it has transcended the norm. It feels different, it feels real, it feels serious, even if it isn't. Is it?

"Yes," you say, kissing her neck. "Yes," you say, kissing her collarbones. "Yes," you whisper as you pull her hoodie up and over her head.

She's not wearing anything underneath. She's never been much of a fan of bras or underwear. You love seeing her like this, bare, naked. She has the most beautiful pair of breasts, the perfect size for her petite body. She is all smooth curves and long, elegant lines, like the figure of a woman that has been drawn and then come to life.

"I'm not joking," Lily whispers into your ear as she wraps her arms around you. Her soft breasts are pressing against you, and she is kissing you on your neck and shoulders. "I want a break. I'm so sick and tired of it." Her hot breath is in your ear and she gently bites the lobe. "I want to be a mother."

"Fuck, Lily..." You breathe as your hands slip into her sweats and find her ass. Firm flesh and smooth skin. Her hips press into your body, and her hand comes down to your cock. She's groping you through your pants and she is squeezing and rubbing and tugging, and it's making you so hard.

"It's not the first time we've talked about kids. We want one. Why wait?" She asks you as she slips her hand into your pants and grabs hold of your cock, pumping it. Lily's hands are so soft, so warm.

"It's insane. You could be forced to leave the group," you remind her. But you can feel it, too, that desire. It is growing in you, just as surely as you are in Lily's palm. It's like she's cast a spell over you and you're falling into some deep trance.

"I know," she groans into your mouth, "I wouldn't be the first to leave, though." She reminds you, her voice growing breathless and excited. Her eyes are half-lidded. You can tell how aroused she is, and it's only making you harder.

"You'd really risk it?" You ask, squeezing her ass.

"I need this." Lily insists, looking at you. Her eyes are pleading. You can't say no to that face. You'd do anything for her, and you'd never deny her anything.

She's pulling down your pants and your underwear at the same time, and she is sinking to her knees before you. Her hands are holding your cock, stroking and fondling, her fingers dancing over the length of your dick and the swell of your balls.

Lily is looking at you. Her lips are parted, her tongue running along them, leaving a trail of spit behind. "Please," she whispers, and then she's licking you, tasting you, teasing you.

Your fingers are threading through her hair and you are holding her head steady as you guide yourself into her mouth. You watch her lips wrap around your cock as she takes it in her mouth, inch by inch.

Her tongue is pressing against the underside of your dick as she slowly slides forward. Lily takes more and more of you into her mouth, the hot, wet, heat of her throat taking the very last inch. She moans around your cock and you feel her tongue swirling around you as you start thrusting. She is sucking and swallowing around your cock. You're watching her head bob as she works your length, taking you to the very base, her lips kissing your crotch. She pulls off of you and takes a deep breath and she looks at you. There is a trail of spit on her chin, connecting to your cock.

"I want a baby," Lily repeats. You don't think she has ever been so insistent on something before. Her hands come to your hips as she pulls you to her, and she takes your cock back into her mouth, sucking you and bobbing her head. She's taking you in all the way and gagging on your dick. Her eyes are closed as she focuses on sucking you off, and her fingers dig into your flesh as she holds onto you.

"You're going to be such a good mommy," you tell her, and you hear her moan in response.

Lily's head keeps bobbing and you keep thrusting, meeting in the middle. You are so deep down her throat, the tip of your cock kissing the back of it and you're throbbing. You're trying to weigh it up in your head, possibly the biggest decision of your life and it's fighting for brainpower with having your soul sucked out of your cock. It's hard to concentrate.

Lily's tongue swirls and her cheeks cave in as she sucks. Her eyes are open now, and she's looking up at you, pleading, begging for you to let her have her way. Even with your cock between them, the corners of her lips turn up into a smirk. She pulls away and gasps for air, saliva dripping down her chin.

She's still stroking you off as you groan and your legs tremble, but she isn't finished. Lily stands back up and looks you in the eye. She's still stroking your cock in her hands, pumping up and down. Her thumb rubs the tip, teasing and playing. "Put it in me, please."

"Are you sure about this?" You ask her one last time, but you're already pushing her sweatpants away from her hips, and down to the floor.

"Absolutely," Lily says and turns away. She bends over and braces herself on the kitchen counter, arching her back. Such a beautiful, elegant posture. The defined muscles of her back lead down to her cute, perfect ass. A smooth curve of soft skin, firm and pert, but inviting. Your hand comes down, caressing and squeezing that lovely ass. Her hips rock as she presses into your touch.

Lily reaches a hand back and her fingers find her pussy, rubbing and stroking. She is spreading her lower lips and showing off her wet hole. "I'm ready." She moans.

Your fingers slip into her cunt and you're thrusting, plunging into her. She is hot, and slick, her walls clenching. She feels amazing and you're desperate to get inside of her, to fuck her. Lily gasps and her hips rock against your hand as she pushes herself onto your fingers. Her hair swings wildly and her mouth is hanging open. Her breasts sway as her body writhes, her stomach flexing and her hips bucking.

"Fuck," she breathes, and her voice is low, and her tone is desperate. She is panting, her breath ragged and laboured. "Fuck me."

Your hand slips from Lily's pussy, leaving her feeling empty, wanting, needing more. Your hands come down to her hips and you're pulling her to you, your cock resting between her cheeks, hard and throbbing and aching to be inside her. "Tell me what you want." You insist. Your fingers dig into the flesh of her ass, spreading and revealing. You're rocking your hips, teasing her.

"I want you to breed me," she insists, craning her neck back to look at you. Her face is flushed. She is sweating. Her body is burning up, feverishly hot, her skin glistening and shining in the light. She looks so damn sexy, and she knows it. "Please, fuck a baby into me," she moans and turns back away, closing her eyes.

You line yourself up with her entrance, rubbing your tip against her. This is the final line, and once you cross it, there's no going back. You push yourself into her, her cunt spreading open for you as you sink in. She's tight around your cock, squeezing, milking, trying to pull you in.

Lily is gasping and moaning as you push into her, inch by inch. You reach the base of your shaft, her ass pressed against your body. "Yes!" She hisses. Her hands grip the counter, her fingers clawing into it.

"You like that?" You ask, and you begin to pull out of her.

"Please, more." She moans. "Please, fuck me," Lily begs.

Your fingers dig into the flesh of her hips as you hold her in place. Your hips are rocking, pulling back. You're leaving her, almost, only the head of your cock still inside of her, and you're pushing yourself back inside of her, fucking into her. Your pace is slow, but each thrust is powerful. She's squeezing and clenching, trying to pull you in further.

"I'm going to fill you up, babe," you promise, leaning down to whisper in Lily's ear as she lays over the kitchen counter, your bodies connected.

Lily moans, "Please," she gasps, pushing her hips back into your body as you thrust. "Breed me like the daddy you are." Her voice is low, her tone husky and breathless, and her words pure filth.

Your hand is coming down, smacking her on her ass and she is crying out, a sharp gasp of surprise. Her hips rock as she presses onto you, trying to meet your thrusts and pull you deeper inside of her.

"Fuck," she moans and you can hear the smile on her lips, and you're smacking her again, the loud slap of skin-on-skin ringing out in the room.

"Is this what you wanted?" You ask, fucking into her, picking up speed and intensity. Your body is smacking against hers, and her body is shaking.

"Harder, Daddy," Lily moans. Your hand comes down, hitting her ass, leaving a mark on the firm skin. You're thrusting, pounding, pulling back and slamming into her again and again. Her hand comes back, reaching around, her fingers digging into your hips. She wants to keep you inside her. "Please, don't stop."

You are pushing into her, fucking her hard. Her breasts are shaking and her stomach is tensing, and her hips are bucking back and forth as you thrust in and out of her. Her hair is flying everywhere as she throws her head back, a look of ecstasy on her face. Her lips are parted, her tongue running across them as she pants. You know that she is close to orgasm. "Cum in me," Lily gasps. Her eyes are rolling back, her body shaking and her hips bucking, her pussy clenching and pulsing. She is on the verge.

You're so close, so very close, and you know that you're going to cum. Your balls are tight, and you're aching for release. Your cock is throbbing, your legs trembling. You can feel the pressure building inside you. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum." You grunt. Your thrusts become more and more intense, your fingers digging into Lily's flesh.

"Do it," she moans. "Fill me up, make me pregnant."

You thrust, pushing in as deep as possible and holding it there, and you cum. Your cock pulses, your balls twitching as your seed floods into Lily. Your cum spills out and fills her up. You keep thrusting, rocking your hips against hers as you keep shooting, and it feels like an endless stream, an eternity of bliss. There's a finality to it. This is it. You've committed. There's no going back. Lily's pussy is milking your cock, squeezing and clenching around it as you pump her full of cum. It feels so damn good.

"Oh, god," Lily groans, and her body is shaking, and she is crying out in pure bliss as she cums with your cock deep inside her. All of her muscles flex as she writhes in pleasure. She's gasping, panting, her body convulsing. You're not sure you've ever seen Lily cum so hard, so intensely. You're holding her, pulling her tight to your body, keeping her steady as she quivers.

"Fuck," she breathes as she finally calms down, her body going limp in your arms. You're both panting, catching your breaths. You're still inside of her, and she clenches her pussy around your softening cock. "We have to keep doing this. Until we're sure I'm pregnant."

It is a nice image. The two of you fucking over the kitchen counter, or in bed, or on the couch, every chance you get. Cumming raw into her pussy over and over again. And once she's got a baby in her, you can fuck like this some more, you can keep making her feel this way. You can be happy.

"Yeah, we do," you agree. This was the right choice, the only choice. You love her. "Come here, mommy." You tell Lily, and she is giggling as she turns and wraps her arms around your neck and kisses you.