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sassybeacondesolation · 3 hours ago

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DEPARTURE

male reader x hwang yeji

13k words

So far as you can tell, Yeji never loved you. A wish beyond your reach.

April, and you were barely seventeen. It was spring, but the weather hadn’t gotten wind of that just yet. So—cool, rainy, just like every April before it.

Yeji’s voice stuck a perfect landing in your ears. "You know what’s crazy?"

"No?" you responded cautiously.

"Apparently this stuff starts out as a wheat, or a rye. You believe that?"

You paused. "What the hell is rye?"

"It’s… well, it’s like a wheat."

The wood crackled again, embers sent flying into the chill night air. Now that the fire had already begun burning out in front of you, you pulled your jacket tight around your shoulders.

"Okay. Ready? On three."

"Wait a second." You raised a finger in the air. "One, two, three?—or, one, two, three go?"

"Who on earth does one, two, three, go?"

"I dunno."

Yeji twisted an eyebrow without saying anything and leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees. The coals and dying gasps of the bonfire between you illuminated the sharp, perfected features of her face, casting a set of even sharper shadows.

"I mean some people do," you added.

"Do I look like some people?"

That mischievous smirk again pulled at the corner of her lip. It was dark and hard to see, but you could feel it.

"You look like you’re trying to get me sick," you said.

"Don’t be such a baby about it. Just do it with me."

"On go?"

"On three." She curled her lip, dissatisfied with you yet again. "One. Two. Three."

Eyes closed, you tilted the cup back against your lips. A dark, dreadful liquor pooled in your cheeks. And against your better judgment, it finally seared its way down your throat. For a moment, it sat woefully in your stomach, like a question mark. Your eyes watered, your chest heaved, coughing and choking.

It took a beat, but eventually you would make peace with it, the beverage equivalent of a kick to the head. You were just thankful it had not elected to leave the same way it came.

"Ugh," you sputtered, wiping your mouth with your sleeve. "I swear it’s like someone wondered what would happen if you tried to drink dirt." Your eyes drew over the bonfire—or at least what was left of it—to find a face beaming with the smuggest grin you’d ever seen, the drink in her hands entirely untouched.

"Gotcha," she lilted.

"Oh of course, you ass."

Yeji’s hand covered a laugh, the corners of her mouth sneaking out from behind it. The sound of it alone made nearly puking worth it. She stood. And in one uninterested motion, tossed the contents of her cup—a kind of alcohol you’d only learn later in life could probably be used to start a car—right out into the grass. Twisting the insides of her jacket pockets, she sauntered around the pit, briefly lit in the spits and licks of the dying fire.

"Think there’s any room on that tree stump for one more?"

Her eyes, sharp and magnetic, always pulled you deeply into her. She held you in them for a moment, a long couple of moments, and the flickers of the fire painted bright streaks of gold in those whirlpools of deep, earthen brown. When she smiled, the corners of her eyes creased, snapping at your attention.

"You deaf?"

"Dunno. Depends," you said, still clutching your chest and clearing your throat. "Who’s asking?"

Hwang Yeji. Your first kiss. Your first a lot of things actually. However for the sake of this story, your first kiss. It was somewhat crude how she’d stolen it off you too. Though still that was your fault mostly. It’s only fair that you got what was coming to you for the way you had dragged your feet.

A playful slap landed on your shoulder. "Scoot over."

You think about it less and less now, and as a result, the actual details of it have begun to elude you. Obviously you remember kissing her—or rather her kissing you—but that’s just about all you remember. There’s the way it started; her fingers under your chin, dragging your eyes away from the pile of embers that glowed in the fire pit. And of course how it ended; a wide smile dimpling her cheeks as her lips pulled away from yours. But everything in between? Years after the fact? God, your guess is as good as anyone’s.

Still, in spite of their incompleteness, Yeji shows up in a lot of your memories, the good ones anyway. You tease them through your head time and time again just to make sure they’re still there, intact.

She’d been around for a lot of the growing up you had to do in school, persistently dissatisfied you wouldn’t do it any faster. Never before had you gotten that close to anyone, let alone someone as vibrantly charismatic and beautiful as her. Allowing yourself to think back on it, there was a lot of downtime, time where nothing in particular was happening at all—the walks home after classes and clubs, Saturday afternoons just spent hanging out on your parent’s couch, not to mention all those late night runs on the local Pelicana for more chicken wings than anyone should ever eat—it all seemed like such a big deal at the time (though arguably, Pelicana is still a big deal).

To be clear, no, the two of you never dated. It was far too difficult to describe it like that. When one of you would turn eyes to the other for comfort, for compassion, for a sincerity absent in those everyday flirtations, you’d always find her—or she’d find you—with eyes pointed away, thoughts elsewhere. Though that didn’t mean you wouldn’t get teased about it, relentlessly you might add. Your friends would see the Friday evenings and Sunday mornings you’d spend together on what must’ve looked like nothing other than what they were: dates.

But the truth was more complicated than you ever cared to explain. So—you let them think what they wanted. You’d always return back to them and field twenty questions about what the two of you got up to, if she was good at kissing, what position she liked, how she was down there, whatever the color was of the underwear she wore that day. You’d make up your own answers, the ones they wanted to hear. It always did shut them up.

So, officially, you were friends. And you were the first person she came to when she got the news.

"In Seoul, huh?" You shoved your hands in your pockets.

"Yep."

"For how long?"

"No one knows." She twisted at the collar of her shirt, pulling and turning it into a tight knot. "For some people it’s a year and then they know it's not really gonna work out. For others it’s a whole lot longer."

"Well, it’ll get pretty quiet around here then won’t it."

Yeji smiled. "You’ll survive. I know you will."

A brief silence hung between you, different from any of the other lulls in conversation or times just spent quietly in your thoughts. Dry leaves crunched and mashed as you walked, and you could hear the wind shake old tree branches of whatever was still left on them.

"I bet you’d be good at it."

"What’s with that?" A muted laugh and Yeji’s eyes were again pointed up to the sky, as if she were counting stars. Always she was looking at the sky like that. You knew it. Maybe she knew it too. She didn’t belong here.

You let out a short sigh and shrugged your shoulders. "Just a hunch."

Five years had passed now, and you still remember vividly the conversation that had become your last. A fresh blanket of snow over the street hadn’t yet been disturbed by the morning traffic. Yeji’s hands were balled into two tiny fists, hidden in the long sleeves of the overcoat of her school uniform, a hand-me-down from her older sister ostensibly. Her hair was tied back into a loose ponytail, a pair of white earmuffs sitting atop it, and for the first time you’d ever known, she searched and searched for that bright smile—only she came up empty.

She told you she was leaving. She told you she wasn’t coming back. And then without skipping a beat, tears welling in her eyes, she told you not to wait for her.

See, our memories are a rather peculiar thing. In the backyard of that party neither of you belonged at, when the two of you were kissing beside those dying embers, you thought it’d be the memory you always play back in your head, clutching it tightly to your breast like your life depended on it. But truth be told, you can’t even tell at this point what’s fact and what you’ve since fabricated to fill the gaps.

As fate would have it, it’s that scene—in the middle of your driveway at four-fifteen in the morning—you remember it perfectly. While it played out, you made no special notice of it. You’d never stopped to think what a lasting impression it would make on you, how five years after the fact you’d manage to recall it in excruciating detail.

You had paid no attention to all that scenery around you either, the stars disappearing to make way for the sun, the sound of snow crunching beneath your feet, the gentle hum of the electric generator heating your home, or the white puffs of air that leaked off your chest. No, you were paying attention to yourself, the things you felt. You were paying attention to that unfairly beautiful girl standing arm’s length in front of you. Your thoughts wandered about the two of you together, and then again, retired solemnly back to yourself.

To make matters worse, you were in love. A troublesome, frustrating, complicated love.

With very little to say, you said very little. She said she’d call. She didn’t. You understood. Time passed. And then some. Later, you’d hammer out a drunken text message on New Year’s Eve the next year. A final albeit clumsy effort to hold your world together. Sent, but never opened.

And that was it. There was little else to do about it. You figured it was time to move on. Not that you had even an inkling of an idea how. Playing it back again in your head only ever filled your teary eyes with an almost unbearable sorrow. Realizing you’d never know if Yeji loved you.

It’s October and you’ll soon be twenty-four. The seat belt sign above you lights up. The cabin shakes and struggles. And your ears ring as the aircraft begins its descent onto a runway at Heathrow Airport. You typically enjoyed the window seat to get a good picture of where it was you were arriving—even if it wasn’t new—the layouts of highways, parks, train stations, large construction projects, all the things that made a city unique. But by the time the aircraft breaks through dark cloud cover, the only thing you can see beyond the ground crew in rain jackets and the chain linked fences around the tarmac, beyond the cold autumn rain beating down upon it, is that unyielding, gloomy sky. Again—London.

Buckles unlatch and passengers stand, gathering their belongings from the overhead bins. You remain stuck in your seat, chin resting on your hand, gazing at the backpack of the woman across the aisle—the contents that peek out of it blindsiding you: a copy of Vogue magazine with five unbelievably gorgeous faces on it, Yeji’s most noticeably staring back at you.

You’d groan out loud if you weren’t surrounded by people. It was becoming untenable.

Most of the reason you’d taken your job abroad was to keep from seeing her at every turn. There were the advertisements, the billboards, the promotional material you’d find on buses, subways, anywhere with decent foot traffic really, and that’s just what you could see. Her voice was always in your ear, and her name on the tip of everyone’s tongue.

And now it seems that even all the way out here, on a short flight from Zurich to London, that plan to escape her is already now showing delicate cracks in its optimistic veneer.

Perhaps it was the way your lips twist, or how your eyebrows furrow—you’ll never know—but a stewardess feels it within reason to check up on you, to see how you’re doing. She asks first in German, and then in French, and then finally in English that you can understand.

"I’m okay—just a little lightheaded."

"Are you sure?"

"I’m fine, thanks," you say, pulling your gatherings together from beneath your seat.

You’re not crazy, no more than anyone else. So it logically follows that you don’t believe in ghosts. At least certainly not in the colloquial sense. And the queue for immigration and customs at London Heathrow Airport has to be about the last place on earth anyone would choose to loiter about for eternity. But those ones you create for yourself? The ones that haunt you?

"I told you! I packed them in a little gray bag! The one you threw across the room at me!"

Those are real.

"Why the hell would you pack them away—when it’s the first thing you’re going to need to get off the plane?"

"Maybe I packed them away safely because we’d need them first thing."

Yeji waves her hand flippantly at the girl beside whose hair was dyed a garish blonde. She rolls her eyes with enough disdain that it drags her face over her shoulder. You watch her do a double, a triple take and your eyes lock with hers. Be it accident, be it fate, it doesn’t matter—it makes it hard to breathe. You shake your head, blink your eyes, but the two of you are stuck in each other’s gaze like it were a finger trap, unable to look away.

Nevertheless there’s some part of you still that refuses to believe in what is now a few feet in front of you. The same scene, playing out back home—assuredly there would be no end to the camera flashes and people chasing and begging for autographs. If anything, the only interest it gathers here, halfway around the world, is impatience from the scowls of grumpy travelers who’d rather be anywhere else.

"Yeji?" The girl beside her, whom you now absolutely recognize—god, you wish it was a mystery to you, what all Yeji had been up to since she walked right out of your life—she asks again, frustrated, "are you even listening to me?"

"Hang on. Give me a second."

She walks with purpose, an insatiable curiosity gnawing at her thoughts. Those heeled boots that tucked in the bottom of her jeans tap loudly against the concrete beneath your feet. And her hair bounces in place against the shoulder of a beige knit sweater on each step. The baggy garment’s sleeves are long, just as she always liked them, hiding her hands in their cuffs as she marches toward you.

Each step leads into the next with such grace and poise it leaves you frozen. Yeji had always been easy on the eyes. And of course you’d seen her everywhere, seen the beautiful woman she’d grown into, taking mental note of it more times than you could count. But even your most particular memories—no matter how bold you chose to remember her—they never could’ve imagined this confidence, the way she carried herself with such raw assurance and certainty.

She sweeps the hair out of her face, looking up at you, confirming exactly what it was she thought she saw. Glistening, her eyes widen, and she holds you in them for the first time in years. You can feel your chest tighten and your stomach twist—she’s so unbelievably pretty it hurts. It’s something like the way you experience a master painting, a Rembrandt or a Hals, by not only letting it steal your breath from far away, but also up close, where you might appreciate the brush strokes.

Shaking her head, laughing quietly to herself in disbelief, she leaps headlong into the silence. "What are you doing here?"

See, this had been a scenario you’d puzzled over a million times in your head already. She’d find you, or perhaps you’d find her, and the two of you would smile, before saying something cute, something that would instantly return you to where you left things five years ago. But even in the pages of your most speculative efforts, it would never quite look like this. You struggle to remember any of those quippy one-offs you thought you’d say. In fact, the breath you draw in, swirling knots of air in your chest, it simply finds no words to speak at all. Upon realizing its uselessness, it falls off your tongue, silent.

After all, you hadn’t talked to her in years. What reason do you have that makes you think you’d start now?

"Yeji, I—" Even her name is a cursed utterance at this point, the way it makes you strain and choke. It takes you a moment, but a dry laugh leads your response upon realizing the absurdity of the question. "Yeji, I live here."

"You live here?" Her eyes open further in shock. "What? Why?"

"Work." It wasn’t a lie, but the simplest answer conveniently hid the fact you’d picked up your entire life and settled thousands of kilometers to get away from her.

She furrows her brow and tilts her head inquisitively. "You’re pulling my leg."

"Well, I’m certainly not on vacation."

She crosses her arms, thinking for a moment before blurting out the first thing that came to her head as she was so often wont to do. Raking her fingers through her hair, gathering stares of everyone around you, she finally responds, "I’m just—I’m having a hard time—I really had no idea."

Accusative, "I mean… Yeji. Does that surprise you?"

Her lips narrow and tuck against her teeth. She twists the collar of her sweater between two perfectly manicured fingernails, painted dark with meticulous white detailing. Further and further, she knots it beneath the pale skin of her neck. It’s the same anxious tic she’d always indulge.

Her voice, tender and choked up, reaches out to you "I’m sorry."

You hadn’t much to respond to it. Your thoughts were tied and shackled to the fact that you were now suddenly eighteen again, staring down the barrel of the girl who broke your heart. Again, tongue-twisted, you search the look on Yeji’s face—eyebrows knit together, and the corner of her lip pulled back into an unsure smile. It defies logic—and reasonably so—it’s beyond the grave, the relationship you thought you’d buried years ago.

"And so when we got off the plane, we were still missing the better half of our passports." Yeji pulls her shoulders up into a hopeless shrug, her hands still in her pockets. "I guess they’re just going to sit and wait in customs until someone can do something about it."

"Bleak."

"Tell me about it."

"You’re just gonna leave them there?"

Yeji laughs to herself. "Trust me, I need a break from those girls. And now you’re here? Talk about a silver lining."

The two of you had made a loop around the terminal concourse god knows how many times now. You could feel the strain of walking the circuit start to make your knees ache and your muscles sting, but you weren’t about to complain.

Things felt different, but also not so far off from the way they always were. Both of you were older, more mature, found more interesting things to talk about. Your words carried a certain edge to them, a cleverness that might not have been so present back then, but still—Yeji talked, and you listened. That’s how it always was. And Yeji could talk for hours.

She stops short, finding a railing to lean herself against. And she asks, "What are you doing out here anyway?"

"Well believe it or not, I passed the national service exam—" You pause with your mouth agape, remembering just how badly you wished you could’ve told her while holding a shredded letter in one hand and the results in the other. "And now I’m here."

"Like in an embassy or something?"

"Yep."

Her eyes light up. "Really?"

"It’s half as cool as it sounds," you say, running your fingers through your hair, "I stamp visas for a living."

"Ugh." Yeji punches playfully at your shoulder. "I could’ve used you about two hours ago."

That’s not how any of it worked of course, but you weren’t about to correct her.

She quickly shoves in front of you a more interesting question, "so you’ve gotta live pretty close to here I imagine."

"I dunno. How close is forty minutes?"

"Close enough." Nearly jumping, she stands herself up onto her feet. "C’mon. I’m not going to forgive you if you don’t show me your place."

You study her face for a clue, a hint, a tell—surely she was joking. Though you realize it soon enough: those arching brows above her eyes remain resolute, cheeks refuse to dimple, and her long, dark eyelashes don’t even dare to flutter. Nothing moves an inch.

You swallow hard. "You don’t have anywhere to be?"

"Manager told me to go straight to the room and read a book or something."

"Then shouldn’t you go to your room and read a book or—"

"Uhh-uh. No way." A smirk and her eyes sharpen. "I’ve got the rest of my life to follow the rules."

So, now—there you are, your jacket drawn over both your heads, a poor excuse of an umbrella. Holding open the door to the backseat of a cab for the most spectacularly gorgeous woman you’d ever known, the girl who shattered your heart into a million pieces and then some. In your pocket, a text message on your phone, curious about your flight home—the girl you’d been casually seeing for the past couple weeks—waits for a response.

Though truthfully, you haven’t a clue what you’re doing.

The ride to your apartment is mostly quiet, listening close to the sounds of rain against the windows and the occasional turn signal from the driver’s seat. And for the first time you’ve ever recognized, the silence between you makes you feel uneasy. You had a thousand questions burning a hole in the pocket of your heart and you didn’t even know where to begin. Those questions, they weren’t interested in her schedules, the places she’d been, the things she’d seen, her life in the limelight, how she’d eventually introduce herself to all the heroes and idols you’d known as a kid. In fact, it’s the same way a map that has too much information is effectively useless at helping you navigate. You needed to ask her where you were. Where you stood. Where you were going.

It’s been ages since you’d both had a girl in your apartment and the two of you weren’t immediately en route to your bedroom. You struggle to call back to how your parents might host a guest in your home.

"Yeji," you yell from in front of your refrigerator, "can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea?"

"It’s a little late for caffeine don’t you think?" The cushions of your couch groan as Yeji collapses into them. "A beer would hit the spot if you have one though. Especially after today."

You scan the contents of a mostly empty fridge and find it, raising your eyebrows at the six pack on the shelf in front of you, one beer already missing from its cardboard holder. It was mostly the thing you were hoping to avoid.

"It’s nice," she says, grabbing the beer out of your hand and taking in the view of your apartment. "Cleaner than I expected too."

"That’s not really a compliment now is it?"

Her shoulders shrug as she pops the tab of the drink and lifts it to her lips. A refreshed ‘ah’ precedes her. "It does feel a little like I’m sitting in an IKEA showroom though."

"Yeah. Well, guilty as charged I guess."

She laughs, head on a swivel, taking note of—silently judging—your furnishings. "I mean you are probably the only person I know—" She stands, wandering through your apartment to the wall between your living room and your kitchen. "With a calendar that has no pictures, words, or anything." She rifles its pages with her thumb. "It’s just a damn calendar. You don’t even mark it or anything."

"It’s functional."

"It’s weird."

Rain continues to pelt down on your windows, permeating the brief silences between your conversations, but soon you can barely notice it. It becomes so natural the way you wrap yourself up in her stories, and hers in yours. And if the hour hand moving quickly about the face on your clock above the mantle was at all an indicator, neither of you had any deficiency of things to share.

Though still, there remained something noticeably off. You’d spent a lifetime listening to Yeji, and it was always so effortless the way she commanded your attention. But the nature of her speaking, it was although she were a machine struggling with a loose bolt or a stripped screw. See, it was the space between the stories that had your curiosity piqued. She’d start to tell you about subject A and move quickly into subject B and then before you knew it you were in subject C with no real rhyme or reason. You recognized the incongruity immediately, but it took a few beers and hours of listening to pinpoint the cause.

She’d start. Her voice soothing and relaxing. You’d both reminisce. And the moment the story began to find itself concerned with you, with the two of you, she’d swerve around it. Like a car trying to avoid a squirrel that foolishly darts across the highway.

It’s what makes it all the more surprising when she asks a simple question, "So—are you seeing anyone right now?"

You have to clear your throat before you can answer. "Kinda. On and off. You?"

"Yeah; kinda. On and off." She sinks her gaze into her lap. "She nice?"

"She’s fine."

"Good." Her eyes, glistening up at you from under her lashes, find you again. "You deserve a nice girl."

It had been one of those questions aching to leap off your heart and onto your tongue. And now that it had been asked—and so succinctly answered—you felt robbed of everything it was supposed to give you. A deafening silence fills the room. The clock ticks mercilessly and you listen again to the rain coming down on your windows.

You can feel it. You’d be shocked if she couldn’t feel it. That unceasing tension. Yeji stands, pulling the hem of her sweater around her thighs, selfishly hiding the curves of her hips along with it. "It’s late. I should probably get going."

And then with hardly any flash or fanfare, she hugs you. Her arms refuse to linger and the purposeful gap between your chests remains obstinate and unmovable. You show her the door and she takes a long step through it. She smiles, her eyes creasing, but her mouth barely moves.

"Till next time," you say, wondering when that might ever be.

"Till next time—good night."

You wave. She waves back. And the door closes—the evening along with it.

That was it. Again. Sifting like sand through your fingers. So consistently she could just walk away from you and be done with it. Every time you’d imagined this miracle meeting in your head, it would start like it did. But then ultimately the two of you would always tear each other’s clothes off in frustration. So that two broken souls might ever become whole again.

But you know it now. Yeji was never broken. For as long as you’d ever known her, she was like a rocket, launching onto a journey to the furthest stars in the night sky. Face pointed away. Thoughts elsewhere. She never really looked at you. And because of that you often wept.

So far as you can tell, Yeji never loved you. A wish beyond your reach.

Your head hangs against the wall beside the door and you gaze at your feet, maybe hoping to find some comfort hidden away in the striped pattern on your socks. You consider for a moment simply just standing outside on the balcony, letting the rain soak you completely in your clothes.

A knock at your door holds you accountable for at least a moment longer.

You sigh. It’s unfair really. Cruel even. She stands in front of you again. Only this time her hair slightly damp, raindrop stains on the shoulders of her sweater. You feel the stitch on your heart—a delicate, haphazard patchwork of time—its last suture coming undone. And boy, does that hurt.

"Hey, sorry. I realized I have no idea how to call a taxi. Can you lend me a—"

It can’t be instantaneous. But you don’t quite know how it happens either. Something pushed you to drag her through that opening and your hands held Yeji’s face, backing her against the door, now shut. Her eyes become stuck on you and her lips part. If she says anything, it’s far too hard to hear beyond that dull drum of blood, beating loudly between your ears. A shared breath, slow and purposeful, fills your lungs and hers.

Boldly, without reservation, you leap. Thousands of kilometers apart, reduced to a distance known now only by breaths hot across your cheeks, you find her again.

It’s soft the way you kiss her, as though you hadn’t done it hundreds of times, more of a question than it could ever be an answer. Her lips are soft, cool and wet, unbelievably perfect. A breeze through your hair on a hot summer day. In fact, they’re everything you remember, even competing midst those memories you’d embellished. Your fingers run through the smooth locks of Yeji’s hair that bundle in your hands, cold to the touch. It quickly becomes a handle, a grip, tilting her head up toward you as you pull her tight into your chest.

Her lower lip quivers gently against yours, and in a single shuddering breath, gathers itself enough to kiss you back. Hands grabbing tight around your shoulders, she lets a soft cry sink into your mouth.

You could listen to her talk for hours. And you did. But you needed to hear her say it—the way her lips capture yours, the way she tells you she missed you. It’s not some grand romantic gesture. There is no sunset, or gentle call of the ocean waves, no extraordinary vista, no candlelit room to bathe you in its soft glow. There is only Yeji, and that alone makes it perfect.

Her voice falters against you; the sound it makes whenever she’d need to hold back a tear or two. "Thank god the dumb taxis are so confusing…"

You kiss her again. That's all you know. The only way to possibly make right of this strange world.

It’s wild. Pressed firmly against your face is hers—the one you couldn’t stop seeing; the one that demanded so selfishly the attention of cameras and eyes around the world; only it had managed to seize your heart so very long ago. The roundness in her cheeks spreads around you and her nose struggles against yours. You hold her lips tight, the ever persistent worry they might disappear from you again forever biting at your thoughts.

Even though it’s not within your means to fall for her any harder than you have, you do. You always do.

"Mnph…" A quiet smack arrives on your lips. Another one. She starts to find an old rhythm, the way she used to kiss you when she was angry, when she was overwhelmed, or whenever she was just plain wound up. You grab a fistful of a sweater and turn her away from the door, stepping slowly into the foyer of your apartment.

The only thing more desperate than the lips pressed against yours becomes Yeji’s fingers, clutching tightly against the fabric of your shirt. Hums and moans pour from her throat to meet yours. She sways and sinks, leaning against the closet door you’d left open in the middle of the hallway. Her mouth tightens and you recognize the shy smile that fills across it.

Her cheeks, rosy now, burn bright against you and her voice rasps. "Don’t you dare go anywhere."

You had nowhere to be. Hell, you were already home. It’s confusing when you think about it. So you choose not to as best you can. Instead, you tease gently at the backs of her thighs, the roughness of denim meeting your fingertips. It’s Pavlovian perhaps, the way she jumps into your arms at your touch—never forgetting those secret traditions shared between you.

Her arms around your neck and her thighs over your elbows, you grip as timidly as might ever be possible onto the two handfuls of Yeji’s ass filling out between your fingers. Though you realize quick that whatever worries you harbor still are unnecessary, that strange boundary between clearly crossed. A soft moan, and her tongue begins to invade your mouth, marking and claiming the space she determined might just as well belong to her.

There’s this instant familiarity your hands find on Yeji’s body. Her svelte frame beneath that baggy sweater is the same perfect shape you’d held onto god knows how many times. The way she kisses you, pulling and massaging at the swell of your lip, it’s as though you’d never missed a beat, as though it had been Yeji’s kisses alone you found comfort in for the last five years. Though now, the flavor of her lipstick is noticeably different. It’s far more muted than the cheap fruity stuff she used to buy, but you recognize that taste of need and want off her lips still all the same.

Your fingers squeeze at the soft, pliable flesh that stretches all along Yeji’s thighs and rear, still protected by that sturdy pair of jeans—an obstacle now to be overcome. Feet and legs swing behind you as you step your haphazard union down the hallway. With any luck, she won’t knock any of the pictures or posters off your walls.

A light bite at your lip sends a surge of fiery pain down your neck. At that, you push Yeji’s back to the wall, another door behind her rattling in its frame and a soft moan escaping her chest.

She whispers against your cheek, "This your bedroom?"

"No. Not quite. Laundry."

"Ah. Well, as nice as that sounds; I’ve already got a washer at home—isn’t there some place that’s better for—ya know—the two of us?"

Thoughts stuck on the idea of Yeji sitting atop yours, hers, any washing machine and getting herself off makes your pants tighten. You groan softly, repositioning her weight in your hands and pulling her away from the door. "Bed or sofa?’

"You tell me."

You consider it for just a moment, unable to remember the state you’d left your room in before your trip. Is your bed made? Are your clothes put away? No idea. So you don’t tell her. You show her. Holding her tight, you navigate a brief waddle into your living room and your hands release her from their grips, sending her into the cushions of the couch beneath you.

"Really? On the leather—"

"Don’t care," you stop the complaint before it has time to marinate in your head. You knew she was right.

Her voice rattles at a faux concern, "what would IKEA think?"

"They’d be wondering who the two good-looking people on their couch are. Or how they got a free promotion out of you—who knows."

She stifles a laugh and motions her hands to your shoulders. "Come here, you."

She fits underneath your weight—your arms around her shoulders, and her legs entwined amidst yours—with such incredible ease. You sink into a kiss against the pale, tender skin that you find beneath her jaw. It’s delicate, easy to bruise, and it begs for a roughness only your lips could ever hope to provide. The more-than-welcome touch coaxes a moan, breathy and sudden, from her chest—a sound you’d only heard in your thoughts for so long.

Her fingers tease at the hem of your shirt, pulling it up along your chest and off over your head. "I missed you."

"You have no idea."

"Well—maybe some idea," she says, a hand quietly brushing against the hardness she finds at the front of your pants.

You trail up along her neck, the ridge of her jaw, until again you find your way back to the swell of Yeji’s soft, plump, ever-so-kissable lips. Your knee between her thighs, pushing her legs around you, legs that wrap and hook onto the backs of yours, knocks on the rise of her jeans. She lets out a quiet whimper, the sound reverberating through your chest.

There’s this thing about the way Yeji kisses you. Her hands run along your scalp, burying themselves in your hair. And she steals kisses off your lips with such an immediate urgency, with a hunger of someone who’d been starved for so long. You’d have chalked it up to the lapse of time you spent apart, years spent finding, failing love in different places, but she has always been like this—needy.

"Ugh," she sighs, amusing her hands on the shape of your chest, your back, your neck. She’s careful not to let the pointed tips of her fingernails scratch deeply at your skin, lightly caressing her way down to where your pants sit on your waist. Though you admire the thought, you had no intention of letting this woman undress you first.

Defiant, you lift your lips off hers. And a suspicious expression fills in the sharp features of her face. You can feel the skepticism building in those eyes that look you over.

"What’s the matter?" she asks, quietly trying to pull your shoulders back down to where she wanted you.

"I, uh—" You give your throat a good, solid clearing. "I’m going to take your clothes off. Right now."

Yeji raises an eyebrow, scooting up and resting on an elbow. "Talk about forward."

"No real use pussyfooting around it now."

Yeji twists her lip between her teeth and then slowly, she draws a line with her finger from your belly button, along your stomach and up your sternum until it holds your chin, making you look down your nose at her. "Someone teach you how to finally be direct with your words while I was gone?"

Maybe. Maybe not. You’d spent a good deal of time now practically inoculated to the fear of rejection from other girls—considering you’d already seen the worst of it. "Something like that."

"Then tell me Mr. Straight-shooter. What do you want to take off first?"

"First?" you say, letting a smirk drag at your mouth. "Well—no shoes on the sofa. House rule."

One thud, and then another as Yeji kicks off her boots onto the floor behind her. She keeps the intensity in her eyes locked on you—smoldering. "What else?"

"The sweater has gotta go."

"Only if you promise to keep me warm—"

"Easy—deal."

Yeji squirms out from underneath you while the sound of rain continues beating the side of your apartment. Your hands offer what is probably unnecessary help, grabbing onto the hem of her sweatshirt, scrunching it up along the toned muscles of her stomach. And after a short struggle, off over the top of her head, you reveal her slender, gorgeous figure.

She refuses to lose you in her cat-like eyes still for even a second. Even while she airs the garment out between her hands, neatly folds it, and gently sets it down onto your coffee table.

It ought to be criminal to be as charming and beautiful as Yeji is. She’s got these delicate collarbones, shoulders that round off the tops of her arms and run the distance to the skin on her neck you yourself couldn’t get enough of—there’s a tiny freckle here and there, none of them as prominent as the one that proudly sits on the bridge of her nose—though there’s nothing she has that no one else doesn’t, it’s the way everything manages to come together, like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle, lightly fitting itself in place—it’s simply perfect.

"You’re staring."

You blink yourself out of that momentary trance before letting yourself laugh about it. Clearing your throat, you smile and return the jeer, "Yeji—absolutely I am."

Standing herself from the couch, she smiles at you with her eyes. Her fingers tease under the waistband of her jeans—the biggest challenge of what all was left—and she asks, "I’m guessing you want these too?"

"I mean look—you know how it is. House rules and all."

"Those pesky rules again, huh." She laughs quietly to herself. "Whoever it is that came up with them—I’d like to give them a piece of my mind."

You simply shrug. That nothing I can do about it message clear enough as she begins to unbutton the top of her pants.

The fact that she has to wiggle her hips to peel the tight denim from her waist and down her thighs is a show in of itself. Inch by inch, slowly, meticulously, she reveals her legs to you—long and unending, toned and sculpted now in that manner that only the physical regimen of someone like her might yield. A pair of high cut athletic underwear—gray and pilling at its edges—hardly matches the navy nylon bra cupping Yeji’s soft breasts against her chest. But it’s not like you were going to complain about it. After all, she’d been traveling. Not to mind the fact you’d have to be insane to find anything worth complaining over in the visage standing in front of you.

She saunters over to where you now sit on the sofa, each step every bit as deliberate as the last. You can’t help but bring your face against her stomach as Yeji arrives in front of you. With your lips you can feel the goosebumps that rise atop the smooth skin across her abs, your kisses running the edge of her bottom-most ribs.

Her fingers stroke through your hair, and she lets her voice reach down to your ears. "Hey, I’m cold."

Those soft, ephemeral hairs that stand on end along her stomach, her back and the skin along her thighs corroborated the statement. However between her legs, where the darkened gray fabric hugged tightly against her entrance, where you could make out the shape of her lips imprinted into it, she was anything but cold.

Kissing her stomach again with lips that drag against the taut, velvety skin they find all over it, you place your fingers against that warmth. It’s instant—the quick spasm her diaphragm makes, knocking on your forehead, and Yeji gasps for air.

You follow the long, endless curves of her leg until it arrives on a perfect handful of ass that spills through the gaps in your fingers—fingers that tuck and dive into the back of her underwear, the thin fabric easy to twist and manipulate. Delighted, you listen close to how Yeji pulls fast breaths through her chest as you start to tease her body.

Your voice nearly chokes as you tell her what both of you already so clearly understood.

"Do you have any idea how bad I want you?"

Yeji’s eyes lock with yours, her chin tucked against her chest. "Show me."

Now, it’s important to mention again that this girl had left you absolutely devastated. In the years since she’d left, you wouldn’t have described yourself as particularly loose or rakish, but you weren’t ever one to turn down an opportunity at finding a momentary comfort in the embrace of another either. And the first chances came fast. Home for winter break along with everyone else, suffocating in nostalgia—a handful of girls you’d gone to school with would only see Yeji’s sudden disappearance as something to celebrate, a long awaited opportunity. It was shocking how fast they pounced on you.

It always felt good—for a second. And it’d wear off fast as they spent more time than you ever cared for snuggling up to you as if the sex was anything to write home about. The worst was when all you wanted to do was turn over in the cheap hotel sheets and they’d start to ask you a million questions: How was university going? Are your grades good? Do you have a girlfriend? What’s your blood type? Do you have a career in mind? How much money do you think you’ll make? Do you think my boobs are too small? Should we get breakfast in the morning? When will I see you again?—it was endless.

You put up with it for the most part. It helped you forget if at least for a moment what a shitty hand of cards you’d been dealt. There was a predictable formula too—you’d meet up for drinks, and before the waiter could take orders for seconds, you and her were making out on the curb, waiting for a cab. The hotel room lights would flip on (or stay off, depending on how horny and desperate you were). And you’d begin that necessary formality of going down on her—so that she might let you use her as you pleased. Always mechanical, robotic, transactional.

But Yeji’s legs resting on your shoulders, your face inches away from the damp fabric covering her hole, you wanted nothing other than to take your time.

It’s not too unlike the way you’d pluck at keys on the piano. Some touches quiet and pleasing to the ear, some loud and heavy and boisterous—you tease your fingers around the ‘V’ of cloth between her thighs, some notes playing soft subtle whimpers and others a lilting moan.

"Mmmph…" Yeji raises her hips gently, the backs of her knees rubbing at your shoulders. Impatient—rightfully so—she lifts the edge of her underwear, pulling it aside and offering you her glistening entrance. She’s wet, sopping and needy, and she’s begging for you.

Your kisses continue along the inside of a thigh, lingering longer and longer against the creamy skin that leads you to her heat. That addictive smell of sweat, lust and excitement fills your nose alongside the long breath you draw through your chest.

The way your palm brushes against her swollen clit makes Yeji shudder and jolt her hips—your finger diving down between the cleft of her bare lips to where she was really just utterly soaked. You trade your mouth across the gap to the other thigh you’d neglected, but Yeji can only reward you with her frustration—"please."

Maybe it’s because she’s always had this intense look about her—like she could take on the world with one hand behind her back and win—and it’s not like you haven’t noticed the way her company plays it up either. The girl you knew who was always fierce, plucky—lionhearted—the face looking at you now, eyes down her nose over the top of two navy clad breasts, it’s so soft. Even those sharp eyes, so often beguiling, had become tender—filling fast with lust and want and need and desire—like she’s pleading for you to save her, to rescue her, in the ways only your mouth and fingers might ever know how.

"Please—I need it," she rasps.

"Yeji," you weave into the sounds of her whines. "Trust—I’m gonna take good care of you."

Your mouth hovers against her. And just above where your fingers play and tease at her folds, your lips part. It’s not on purpose, and it’d be a little cruel if it were, but a hot, wet breath spills lax from lungs, off your tongue and out of your mouth. It crashes and collides, rolling and tumbling about the aching skin around her hole. It’s not possible to touch someone less if you tried—and it brings Yeji to wit’s end.

She sucks a sudden, whistling bout of air past her teeth. Her fingers thread themselves through your hair and pull you into her. Your nose meets her hip, tickled by the soft patch of neatly trimmed hair she saves for you, and you watch her head roll back on her shoulders. A reveal of the raw, tender skin you’d all but bruised along her neck and her whole body sighs, her body saying, without speaking, finally.

Yeji hums in delight as you take care of her. There’s your tongue, brushing up and down the hoods and folds of delicious skin that struggle to contain the scorching heat that burns fast between them—your hands, one teasing the narrow depths at the tightness just beyond her entrance, the other holding her hip, firm, to keep it from evading you—your unapologetic lips, grasping and sucking around her clit—your tongue again tapping and caressing it.

"Fuck," she hisses.

A word that is so usually rough and abhorrent and grizzled, and it’s never sounded so elegant. You can only imagine how bottled a profanity like it must be—there’s such oppressive decorum to follow when you’re on television, soundbites repeating like a million broken records across the internet, a voice that speaks for all to hear. And that goes doubly so for someone like her.

You dive into her, hard, and she rewards you with the airy, sing-song moans that fill your apartment, meshing themselves against the unyielding pitter-patter of rain.

"Oh my god—you’ve got some real talent." A thick, strained laughter leaves her throat and Yeji collapses back into the cushions of the sofa, brown leather now dark and staining with her wetness, a problem for tomorrow. Perhaps unfixable; worst case scenario, you could always get a new couch.

Rain hits hard against your home. It mixes a delightful track to your onslaught and a finger brings Yeji to her knees.

"Please, please, please—keep doing that."

It doesn’t have to search far, the soft pad of your fingertip finding that familiar stretch of dangerously sensitive skin. You curl at the knuckle—and Yeji becomes an extension of your will—her hips quake, relaxing only when you do. Your finger flexes. You tap, rub and tease. Each time a reaction, more wild and unrestrained than the last.

"F-Fuck. Just right—there," she squeals.

Her thighs wrap tight against your ears, all those sounds of your apartment quickly mute and muffled. The fruits of your labor pool, run wet, beading into droplets at the bottom of your chin.

"Please do—not—stop," she begs, breathing fast and heavy. Her eyes find you again, lip twisted mercilessly between those perfect teeth. And at a quiver that shakes and pulls her muscles taut—she closes her eyes and she growls through gritted teeth, "you’re gonna make me fucking cum."

There were a lot of memories you struggle now to piece together. Like having dropped a stack of papers or a pile of laundry, each time you bend down to pick something up, you’ve lost another in its stead. It’s become its own awful tragedy in a sense. But if there’s anything imprinted so permanently into the deep inner workings of your thoughts—you remember when Yeji cums, she cums hard.

Entirely overwhelmed, Yeji pushes your tongue away from her overstimulated bud. Her fingers grip tight at your hair, and she locks and clenches her body around your fingers. That twisted, unrestrained expression, eyes clenching and lips curling into a beautiful ‘O,’ she finds the release she so desperately needs.

All kinds of sounds, full of watery, anguished breaths, and whimpered moans leak through the seal her thighs make around your ears. You recognize a few words, a lot of them curses and profane mewling—nonsense mostly—but just as readily, your name gets thrown haphazardly into that lustful mix. Perhaps for good measure.

It’s only once she’s let those waves of pleasure dissipate through her entire body, squeezing and gripping you in the vice her legs make around you, that she lets herself relax and releases you to speak.

"Well that was something," you tease, wiping your mouth and chin with the back of a wrist, "been a while?"

"Oh—come—on," she says, heavy breaths still laboring to catch up to her, "don’t be cute. It’s not my fault if you’ve been practicing."

You smirk, lifting yourself up and finally freeing your legs of those stiff pants that were struggling impossibly to keep your cock calm and demure. "So? What now?"

Yeji returns herself to a halfway decent posture, the sweat on her back sticking to the leather as she does so. "What do you think?"

"Hmm." Shuffling your pants free from your thighs you tap at your chin, playful. "How many guesses are you giving me?"

"Zero. Get those things off. I’m gonna ride the fuck out of you."

"Yeah?" A bout of laughter forces your smile. "I can’t help but wonder what people might think if they heard ITZY’s fearless leader talking like that."

Standing, she slides that pair of soaked underwear down off her legs, and in a quick practiced motion, hooks an ankle behind yours. A push and you’re sent tumbling into the couch.

"What? You don’t think they’d be cranking one out to it?"

"The girls or the boys?"

She smirks. "Both. Though I imagine it would be all together kinda frustrating, huh?" She puzzles, straddling your legs. "Never being able to actually fuck me."

It’s unclear to you if she always preferred being on top because she forced it out of you, or if it's because you let her—but that’s how it goes. Your cock is already at full attention, standing proud like it wanted Yeji to know it needed her. It twitches noticeably as she rubs her pussy against it.

"What’s the matter? Been a while?"

"Yeah, because it’s so easy to get off on a business trip."

"Mnh-nh. I don’t want to hear excuses." She teases the head of your cock between the soaking lips of her pussy, kissing your tip with her heat.

Her lips purse, her eyes shut and she blows a purposeful breath of cool air out of her chest, out the narrow hole her mouth makes—an enticing shape you’ll have trouble getting out of your head—as she begins to take you into her, adjusting to the shape of your cock.

You both groan, two wildly different noises, but the same heavenly feeling communicated. She holds the base of your shaft steady with her fingers as you’re pushed past the muscles clamping around you. It’s warm and it’s wet and it’s fucking unbelievably tight. It’s enough to make you feel dizzy, stars appearing in your eyelids.

"Phew." Yeji drags her knees toward, sitting back on your cock. "That always feels so fucking good. Don’t worry I’ll go slow."

"Yeah, sure—but it has been a while, right?"

Leaning forward, she smiles against your cheek. "If that’s what you want me to say, then yeah—sure, it’s been a long while."

"I’m ignoring that." You reach your hands up onto her waist, the soft curve of her hips making for two perfect handles. "I’m ignoring you."

She laughs, the melodic sound again filling your head. "That’s fine—but I’m not going to let you ignore this."

There’s this moment, her ass suspended high above your hips, the tip of your cock barely held in place by her pussy’s grip. You’ve felt it before on roller coasters mostly, at the peak of the tallest drop—the car hanging in suspense, the strangest knot twisting in your stomach. Of course, the moment doesn’t last long. No, not when Yeji slides herself down along your length in the quickest of motions, the base of your cock kissing those wet lips again.

A sound, not particularly describable or even repeatable punches through your throat, and your eyes widen.

And then she does it again.

Quick, your voices melt into one another, the pleasure that rips through your thoughts—from the entire length of your cock buried deeper into her cunt than either of you can pretend to not notice. It’s immaculate.

But it’s fucking dangerous.

You’d noticed them before—those legs that she’d worked on for years, built and perfected by hours in the gym. See, she lifts herself up on your length again, some crude combination of cum, spit and sweat leaving a sticky trail between your thighs. A soft moan announces the end of the motion and then without remorse or hesitation, she finds herself flush against your hips again. It’s tiring no doubt, but you find Yeji relentless.

She brushes her hair out of her face. And those eyes–smoldering with lust–study the indecent expressions you make as she impales herself repeatedly on your cock. Her hands find a home on the muscles above your breast. And the reasonably flat support gives her everything she needs to lift and roll her hips against you with little resistance.

It’s not the angle, the depth, the tightness, or the technique—and god, does she know exactly what she’s doing—it’s the damn speed. Even when you were both eighteen, cutting classes at the end of your schedules, a pair of horny teenagers aptly described as rabbits, she had never fucked you like this.

"Fucking christ, Yeji." You grit your teeth and squeeze hard on her hips, bracing for impact on each downward thrust. "So much for slow—you trying to kill me?"

"Well I was thinking about it. And I changed my mind." Bouncing away still, eagerly taking your length in and out of her tight hole, she sits herself up and reaches her hands behind her back, unclasping the navy bra across her chest. "It might be better if you just cum now, since you’re so pent up—you might actually be able to enjoy yourself on the next one."

The straps come down over her shoulders and the bra lands somewhere in your room. It sounded like the floor. You don’t really care though, not while Yeji is lifting your hands from her hips and placing them on those two beautifully soft mounds that hang shyly off chest.

Frustrated perhaps with the shyness in your touch, she palms her hands over yours, squeezing and massaging at her own breasts until you find the touch she craves all on your own.

You groan again, loudly enough to make a smug smile stretch across Yeji’s cheeks. "Then tell me—is it a bad time of the month? Where do you want me to cum?"

She leans forward, breath hot against your ear. "Anywhere you want."

At that, you reach a hand around her, palming the back of her neck and holding her tight against you. The suddenness of it makes her yelp and squirm, but you hold her firm, and she realizes exactly what it is you need as you slide yourself lower on the sofa, a new angle with an entirely unrealized potential waiting for you there.

"That’s it—" she gasps, struggling in the strength of your grip, "make this pussy yours—use me."

Her body flush against yours, you hear every little gasp, every sultry moan that leaks off her lips. It drives you faster, more wild and feckless on each thrust, burying yourself hard into the heat of her cunt. Your throbbing shaft inside of her—it feels as though she was made with your cock in mind, made for you, designed—a perfect fit, the way she wraps and grasps around you. Without hesitation, you settle your hips into a rhythm that you know beyond a shadow of doubt will send you hurdling into those irreversible triggers of your orgasm.

"Mph…"" Your thighs slap against hers, that sound of wet skin on wet skin filling your apartment and drowning out the rain. Your cock disappears so neatly between her legs, and your hips move immediately to bury it there again, desperate for her warmth, her tightness. Beads of sweat pool at your back, and every time you should shift your weight, you become stuck to the leather sofa beneath you.

Yeji’s words continue to pour into your ear, though they too seem to be growing disjointed and bewildered at the motion between your hips. Her shoulders collapse against you and her face buries into the cushion aside yours.

"Yeji—I cant," you sigh, and your chest shudders in anticipation. "I’m going to fucking—cum in this—"

"No!" her voice cries, muffled into the leather of the couch beside you, "It feels—so deep—I’m close!"

"Yeji," you groan, "please."

Don’t you fucking dare," she husks, a voice desperate for you, "don’t—You can’t cum, you can’t—fuck!" Writhing again, she lifts herself on her elbows, observing how your face twists and contorts beneath her as if her own wasn’t every bit as wrought and agitated. "Babe! Your cock feels too—fucking amazing!"

She grabs your cheeks with her hand, pulling your attention away from her breasts shaking wildly, jostled about by your thrusts. Those eyes—they hold you deeply, begging you to hold on.

"You’re asking for a fucking lot here, Yeji I swear—"

"No—fuck," she gasps. Eyebrows twist. Her eyes shut tight. And her lips mouth the words that might release you, I’m cumming again.

It’s always like this.

She leads, you follow.

And it’s far and away too much for you to handle—the gorgeous woman on top of you, straining an expression only meant for you to see—it’s just too much. Plundering the depths of her pussy for pleasure you didn’t even know could wrack you like it does, you follow her into that unthinkable bliss. Her mouth hangs open, her muscles lock again and she quivers and quakes around you.

Your hands slap down hard onto her ass cheeks, searching desperately for a brief reprieve of something other than the warm, tight cunt that’s been rocking your thoughts senseless. You press your fingers into her creamy skin, hard enough that it’s sure to leave a mark, and in a thundering moment of pure, unbridled lust, you let it all out. Honestly, your thoughts are all so crudely whiplashed by everything that you make little notice of how much hot cum your thrusts pump up into the deepest reaches of Yeji’s pussy. It’s already something spectacular as it arrives, erupting unabashedly from your throbbing cock, but then it just keeps going. It fills around you, an unthinkable lubricant against the way her walls clamp and squeeze around you. And then you feel it, dripping and leaking out of her hole and onto your thighs.

A gasp bellows from your chest and your voice, raw and hoarse, punctuates the heavy panting between your crumpled, tired bodies. "Fuck. Me. Yeji."

Prudence would’ve been closing the curtains, turning into your pillow and catching whatever was left of the night to rest before you’d wake for work tomorrow. So, a simple fade to black. But you’d spent years searching and seeking for what is now between your hands—if there was any mistake you’d made, it was that you hadn’t kissed her sooner.

You remember it now, the way your family would host guests: there of course was that initial cup of tea, or whatever could be cooked up quickly in the kettle, but a tour of the house had always followed close in its wake.

And so a tour you two ventured. The rest of living room (though you worry about how thin the walls are you share with your neighbor), the kitchen, the bathroom, the laundry room. Any place with a surface you could either bend her over or sit her on really—until finally you two might enter your bedroom and fuck like a pair of functioning adults.

You lean back, grasping the bed sheets between your fingers. A heavy sigh pulls at your shoulders while Yeji runs her tongue up along the side of your cock. She’s got this wicked touch, her fingers wrapping ever so perfectly around your shaft, knowing just what firmness will send you reeling.

"Shit," you hiss, watching Yeji’s tongue swirl the head of your cock before her lips swallow it whole.

She’s methodical. Her tongue slips and darts beneath the sensitive skin under your shaft as she takes you in her mouth further and further. And in excruciating increments she nuzzles her nose against your waist, eyes just beginning to water. She’ll hold it—hold you, cock filling the lovely sleeve that is her throat—and then release. Just like that.

"Yeah—I don’t care what you say." You run your hand along the side of her head, her makeshift ponytail of smooth, silky hair now a perfect grip for your fingers. "You didn’t learn how to do that from those women’s magazines."

She pulls herself off your shaft, cock popping out of her mouth. Hands stacked, one on top of the other, she abuses you with that slobbery layer of saliva in between her fingers. Her eyes poke out, smiling over the top of it all. "I’m new to this—I promise."

"Uh-huh."

"So." Belly against the mattress, she pulls her knees forward, swaying her ass behind her head where you could see it. It’s a whole spectacle with this girl. She taps and teases at the tip of your cock, amused at the precum that sticks to the pad of her thumb, before again finding you with her eyes.

"So," you repeat back.

"How do you want to cum?"

You lean your head back on your shoulders, eyes up at the ceiling—a break. "If you’re not careful, it’s going to be down your throat."

"Well that’d be a waste."

"Oh yeah? How you figure?"

"When you could do it inside my cunt?" She narrows her eyes and raises an eyebrow, hands gingerly pumping at your shaft. "Yeah. A waste."

Yeji’s tongue and fingers work and tease in perfect union along your length. And you blow a steady breath through your lungs to rally your thoughts. "Let me think."

"You’re good, take a breather. I’ve got a nice, beautiful cock here to keep me entertained." And like that, she simply swallows you again.

Her drool continues to spill unapologetic down your shaft, catching itself between Yeji’s fingers and spreading out everywhere along your sensitive skin. A hand twisting, pumping—she has you so effortlessly figured out.

You help her head along as you puzzle about the many possibilities in front of you. Holding her hair, guiding her slack jaw and perfect lips up and down your throbbing cock feels—and you’re a little ashamed to say it—feels like using a toy. A toy that’s hot and hums and vibrates as you fuck it. And that’s exactly what you want to do.

"Yeah, I think—I want this mouth Yeji."

Before she can protest, you guide her again down your shaft, the perfect seal of her lips parting around your tip and swallowing your length. She glides and slips up and down you, the tiniest sounds of her throat struggling to accommodate you reaching your ears.

With her hand pulling yours away, Yeji pushes herself off you, your cock again leaving her lips with a pop.

"Well aren’t you selfish." She pushes gently at your chest with her fingers, "Let me at least take care of you."

You’d been catching yourself staring at her lips all evening, the way they curve and pull themselves up into that irresistible bowing figure—you’d had them running through your thoughts long before today—and now they’re all over your cock. She kisses you, caresses you, exploring every inch of vulnerable skin she can find all along your shaft.

The brief moment exists each time she swallows you, just the second before her lips part and seal around you. A hot, wet breath, spiraling and barely in control, wraps itself around you as her mouth hovers just over the tip of your aching cock—a blanket of warmth surrounding it. She takes you, all of you—again.

If it’s not the tightness of her throat or the doubled effort of ten slender fingers all fighting over one another to try and to send you to the edge, it’s that wet, smooth tongue. With it, Yeji brings your hips forward, bucking into the air above your sheets. A simple lick and you groan. Flattening it and adding it to the friction you find at the back of her throat? You’ve become putty in her hands.

"Fuck… Yeji, that feels incredible."

She hums a self-satisfied note, buzzing it all down your shaft, before pulling herself off your cock and finding you with her eyes once more.

"Tell me what you want," she says, holding your skin taut with her fingers and pumping a tight, squelching fist at the top of your cock.

You laugh, shaking your head. "Yeji—"

"No—tell me."

It’s the heart beating in your throat, it’s the sloppy noise her fingers make as she tries to pull every last ounce of cum out of your cock, it’s the sound of the god damn fucking rain hitting your windows—you whisper beneath it all, "I want to fucking cum in your mouth Yeji."

She lifts an eyebrow, cruelly pulling her hands away from your cock. "And then?"

"And then you’re gonna swallow it."

It all happens so fast. She takes you again into her mouth, fucking you with her throat and tongue—your hands are in her hair, finding the exact contact and warmth you need—and you struggle to do anything beyond holding your breath and closing your eyes tight.

"Mnph."

Your voice spits, "Fuck—"

"Mnmnph."

While you cum inside Yeji’s mouth, into the wonderful shape of her throat, she coughs and sputters, struggling to hold you in her grip, fingers splayed wide against your hips. You can see a good amount of your orgasm almost immediately leak from her lips, spilling down her chin and staining the sheets of your bed—again, tomorrow’s problem.

You grab her Kleenex, water, and anything she might really now need (a good hug more than anything).

Nighttime routines, finding her a pair of pajamas—ones that fit loosely on your body already mind you—a trip to the bathroom, and you’re both brushing your teeth, staring at each other's naked reflection when it really hits you—and together, you just start laughing. Those contagious giggles and bouts of laughter that make you remember just how much you missed the girl who’d forever been your best friend, the girl you loved.

The two of you are quick to find the blankets on your bed, the comfort beneath them. Arms untangle from each other, a quick kiss and a reach for the night stand, Yeji allows a complete darkness into your room.

"Till next time," she whispers into your ear.

The rain had finally stopped, but that doesn’t mean the sun harbored any intention of coming out. It was always kind of stubborn like that.

Rolling out of bed, you’re exhausted, mentally and physically. But you’re not sixteen anymore; you couldn’t fake a cough and tell your mom you were running a fever, take an indulgent day off. So—work it was.

Slacks come on, a dress shirt stuffed hastily into them, and you look over your shoulder to see Yeji’s more or less unidentifiable shape bundled beneath the blankets she’d spent all night stealing from your side of the bed.

"Yeji," you call out.

A soft groan marks the extent of her response as you watch her hand stretch into the air before falling defeated back against your mattress.

"I don’t know where, but—I’m sure you have somewhere to be." You draw the curtains open wide to your room, particularly dissatisfied by just how little light it earns you.

You fish from your suitcase a tie and the top half of your suit before finding your way to the bathroom. When you’re brushing your teeth, you again watch Yeji’s reflection stumble across the mirror, rubbing at her eyes. It took her little time to cop one of your sweatshirts. And you begin to wonder how many of yours you’ve seen taken up like this—now only to be never seen again.

"Good morning," she says, blinking at you.

Even in her least put together state, hair tousled and eyes sleepy, she possesses a certain charm that you struggle to put into any words beyond the obvious ones—she’s cute.

"Man." She looks at your reflection in the mirror–the marks along your neck. "I really roughed you up good, huh."

Usually the tie around your neck was enough to cover up those lip-shaped bruises on your Adam’s apple. You pull at the knot, the silky fabric sliding through your fingers. It’s probably optimistic to think another attempt at tying it might yield better results, but you haven’t all that much choice.

"Nope." Yeji hides her grin with a closed fist, her other hand hanging off your shoulder. "You can still definitely see them."

"Well, shit." A heavy sigh leaves your chest as your hands find your hips. "How bad is it?"

You turn from the mirror, searching for any reassurance in those soft, dark eyes. But the muted laugh, that painfully smug smile, those mischievous hands sneaking around your waist—it’s bad.

"Yeji. I can’t—" You grab onto her hips, trying to stem the flow of laughter that pours from her chest. "Yeji."

Grinning, "gotcha."

You roll your eyes back to your reflection. "I can’t go to work like this."

Yeji takes a second to think through her response, which makes the solution that ends up coming off her tongue even less impressive. "Then don’t."

"Hah. I bet you think you’re clever."

"I do." She runs her fingers through her hair, head tilting and eyes looking up at you. You wish she was just a little less dangerous. "What all is a day off going to do to you? You stamp visas for a living. Remember?"

And so for about a week, the two of you would run through a variation of this same conversation every morning. If it were a test in temperance, you failed it every time. It was sex, it was sleeping, it was cheap take out, it was more sex, but it was also just a lot of time to sit and talk. Like you used to.

Yeji wipes the sweat off her brow and lifts herself off your hips, her nude body cuddling up alongside you, her head resting on your chest. That soft voice of hers again lands perfectly in your ears, "You know what’s crazy?"

"That whiskey is made from wheat or rye?"

"Well, no—" Her chin turns on your chest to look you in the eyes. "What?"

You chuckle. "It’s nothing."

She takes a beat to regather her thoughts. "I was going to say I felt awful for years about it." A soft sigh moves her whole body, the cool breath landing on your chin. "But I never doubted for a second—I knew I’d find you."

You puzzle it through your thoughts. "How’d you figure?"

"Well—because I love you."

Easy, effortless, straightforward—the words spill from her mouth. You wonder for a second if perhaps you were mid-sip a cup of nostalgia instead, burying yourself in memories that never existed. But the soft touch of her hair against your chest, the way her face rises and falls as your chest draws breath, the sweat still lingering and stuck between your bodies—it’s all too real.

Your voice, watery and choked, manages to push a breath through your throat, "I know I can be a cynic—but that’s not really a whole lot to put faith in."

"Maybe. But you said it too."

Your eyes widen and your brow furrows. "When?"

"Couple years ago now. By text—because you’re an asshole."

The memory of it, sorrowful for as long you can remember, comes crashing back to you. "You—you never even opened it."

"I didn’t need to—not a whole lot else getting said in a text message at three in the morning. On New Year’s no less."

You sit in a brief silence, confounded by the old wound. The feeling of her fingertips caressing the skin atop your chest provokes a question, "But then why not respond?"

"You think reading it would’ve made it any easier on me?" She reaches again for the night stand, flipping out the lights from your room with the switch. "What was I supposed to tell you? Suffer in silence and wait for me?"

"Yeji. I’d have done it."

There’s a brief quiet as she moves back into the bed, only the sounds of her shuffling about reaching your ears. You feel her face press against yours in the dark, hot tears streaming down her cheek. "But would you do it still?"

3K notes · View notes

sassybeacondesolation · 5 hours ago

Text

Backstage Frustrations

Word Count: 4.8K

Sakura Miyawaki X Male Reader

Tags: Fluff, Smut

a/n: I actually had this in the drafts for a while, and thought this should be my first smut post, but I am stewpidcheescatarinabluu and its “stewpid” (see what i did there? display of elite writing prowess) not to post karina as my first smut debut, anyways enjoy this sakura smut, i’ll be cleansing my soul once again :)) requests are open as always and commissions are highly appreciated and are prioritized!

The lights were blinding, the bass thundering through the floor, and thousands of voices merged into one deafening roar. You’d seen Sakura Miyawaki command stages before, her every move razor-sharp, her smile effortless — but tonight something was off.

It started small. A half-step out of sync during the chorus. Then another. You saw the flicker of panic cross her face, so quick the cameras might’ve missed it. But she knew. And from that moment, the rhythm seemed to slip through her fingers like water.

By the bridge, her hands trembled. She glanced toward the wings, eyes searching for an anchor, but the heat of the lights and the sheer volume pressing in on her only made her breath hitch.

Then, as the final beat hit, she didn’t bow or wave. She turned. Fast. Almost stumbling. Her mic clattered into someone’s hands as she pushed past the stagehands, ignoring the voices calling her name.

Down the narrow hallway backstage, her steps quickened until she was practically running. The arena’s roar fades behind you as the dressing-room door seals, leaving only the soft hiss of air from the vents and the glittering hum of the vanity lights. Sakura bursts in, shoulders hitching with a tremor you’ve seen a thousand times before but never looking so fragile. Her hairpin catches a stray beam of light and glints like a fallen star as she leans against the vanity, hands pressed to her temples.

You don’t rush. You don’t crowd. You move close enough that the scent of citrus wipes and perfume wraps around her, then you pause, let her exhale—one, two, three—before you speak.

“Tell me what happened,” you say softly, your voice a steady anchor in the storm of her nerves.

She looks up, meets your eyes with a flicker of rage and relief braided together. “I—” Her teeth worry her bottom lip. “I messed up a move, right in the middle of the chorus. The timing slipped, and I—” She swallows, trying to steady the tremor in her hands. “I’m supposed to be flawless.”

You reach out, not to take over but to share the weight. Your hand lands at the small of her back, guiding her to sit and settle the rattled energy into something more manageable. She sits, the sequins of her shimmering dress brushing the edge of the chair as if to remind her of the moment she’s supposed to own.

“Let’s reset it,” you say, voice low but sure. You speak with the calm you’ve learned to wield on crowded streets and crowded stages alike. “Take a breath. Look at me. We’ll take it from the top.”

Her gaze lingers on you, then drifts to the mirror, where the reflection of a woman who can bend light with her flighty smile stares back. A strand of hair loosens and you tuck it behind her ear with a touch that’s almost intimate in its quiet certainty. The moment doesn’t demand anything more than a careful, honest presence—so you give her that.

“I need you to feel safe,” you murmur, and it isn’t just about the show. It’s about the space you’ve carved out together, where mistakes don’t erase worth but teach a better way forward.

Her breath slows. The edge of her mouth softens into a grateful smile that trembles at the corners. “Okay,” she whispers, and the word lands between you like the first honest note of a new run.

Slowly, you slide closer, not invading her space but offering yourself as a shield against the world outside these walls. You rest your hand at the back of her neck, not to pull her body into you but to steady the tremor there, to remind her that she has a harbor to return to.

Her fingers slide along your sleeve, a cautious, almost hopeful touch that tells you she’s ready to lean. You tilt your chin just enough to catch the line of her gaze, keep it there, and she meets you halfway with a breath that fogs a little on the glass between you.

Then it happens—not a rush, but a slow, deliberate closeness. Your lips brush hers in a kiss that’s light at first, a question you both answer with a shared exhale. It grows into something warmer, more certain, the kind of kiss that says you’re not erasing the failure but embracing the person who’s resilient enough to move past it. Her hands find your shoulders, pull you in with a gentle insistence, a want threaded through the reassurance you’ve offered since the moment she walked through that door.

You don’t fuse tongues or press for more than the moment allows. You hold the kiss, slow and meaningful, and when you finally ease back, the room feels different—safer, steadier, as if the wings of doubt have folded away for now.

Sakura rests her forehead against yours for a heartbeat, cheeks catching the soft glow from the vanity lights. “Thank you,” she breathes, not just for the kiss but for the space to be imperfect and still worthy.

“Always,” you say, and your voice feels like a promise you both can hear clearly in the quiet between breaths.

your hand still resting lightly on Sakura’s shoulder as you searched her face. Her breathing had slowed a little, but the storm in her eyes hadn’t fully cleared.

“You okay now?” you asked quietly.

Before she could answer, hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. You turned just as Chaewon rounded the corner, followed closely by Kazuha, Yunjin, and Eunchae, their expressions tight with worry.

“Sakura!” Chaewon called, rushing forward.

Sakura straightened immediately, slipping out from the small space between you and the wall. Her smile was faint, shaky at the edges, but it was enough to send Eunchae running into her arms.

“We saw you leave the stage,” Kazuha said softly, brushing a stray hair from Sakura’s face. “We thought you were hurt.”

“I’m fine,” Sakura murmured, hugging Eunchae tighter. “Just… needed air.”

Yunjin glanced at you briefly, her sharp eyes catching the subtle tension still hanging in the air. She didn’t say anything, just stepped closer to drape her jacket over Sakura’s shoulders.

The group formed a loose circle around her, their voices overlapping in a mix of reassurance and gentle teasing — anything to pull her back into their orbit.

You stayed a step back, watching. The way they looked at her, you knew she was more than just their teammate — she was their anchor. And for now, that was what she needed most.

The room once again goes still as the last door shuts and the hallway’s distant hum fades into a quiet sigh. You hear the soft murmur of the arena outside, then the faint rustle of backstage curtains as if the building itself is catching its breath. The others have checked in and drifted away, leaving you two alone with the glow of vanity lights and the scent of citrus wipes still clinging to the air.

Sakura turns to you, hair catching the light, eyes bright and fixed on you with a spark that says she’s choosing you in this moment. She steps closer, body softening the space between you, and you feel the pulse along her throat as she inhales, as if she’s gathering courage from the very breath she’s shared with you before.

Her hand finds the nape of your neck, fingers threading through the hair at the base of your skull. Your grasp answers hers, one hand sliding to the curve of her waist, pulling her in close until there’s barely any distance left between your mouths. The kiss is hot from the first press, a hungry collision of lips that learns the fast language of need as much as protection.

Her mouth moves against yours with a tremulous certainty, lips parting to meet your tongue in a messy, fevered dance. She whimpers a little, a sound that goes straight to your chest, and you respond with a deeper pull, guiding her closer until her chest brushes yours, the soft breath of her exhale warming your skin. Her hands roam—one at your shoulder, the other sliding down your spine, fanning to your hip and stealing a moment to grip you there, pulling you tighter still.

You tilt your head, angling the kiss until it becomes a fierce flood of sensation—teeth catching lips, tongues tangling in a rush of shared heat. She answers with a star-bright, messy kiss of her own, mouths clashing, breaths hitching together in a chorus that only the two of you can hear. Her legs find a wordless invitation around your waist; she threads a leg between yours, hitching it higher as you deepen the kiss, the world narrowing to the feel of her body pressed against yours and the way her fingers trail heat across your chest through the fabric of your shirt.

The touch grows bolder: her nails lightly rake your back, leaving a line of fire that travels up and down your spine. Your hands drift—one feeling the curve of her waist, the other tangling in the lock of hair at the nape of her neck—holding her in place as the kiss grows sloppier, more urgent, the room vanishing into a private thunderstorm of mouth and breath and heartbeat.

For a moment you pause, foreheads resting together, the heat between you buzzing in the quiet air. You murmur against her lips, soft and steady, “Are you sure—” and she cuts you off with a breathy, breathless nod, the answer written in the way she leans into your hold, submitting to the moment with a dangerous kind of trust.

Then you surge back into the kiss, slower this time but no less intense, savoring the messy, electric connection—the way her tongue finds yours with reckless abandon, the way she clings to you as if you’re the only thing keeping the world from tipping. Her hands slide lower, tracing the line of your waist, tugging at the hem of your shirt, seeking warmth, seeking closeness, seeking you.

The kiss finally breaks not with a shout, but with a breath that raggedly catches in your lungs. You rest your forehead against hers, your chests heaving in a shared rhythm, the faint sound of the arena drifting in through the door like a distant storm you’ve learned to ride together.

Sakura wipes a damp strand of hair from her cheek and smiles, a reckless, bright thing that feels almost dangerous in this private moment. “That was…,” she starts, trailing off with a hungry laugh.

“Too honest to pretend it didn’t happen,” you reply, pulling her a fraction closer and stealing another faint kiss before you both loosen your grip and settle into a safer distance. The moment lingers, the heat between you not fading so much as settling into something steadier, something you can carry with you back to the stage.

The encore fades into a roar of applause that rolls through the arena like a tidal wave. You’re backstage, shoulders still tight from the tension of the set, when Sakura reappears at the threshold of the wings—glowing under the stage lights, that same damn cute smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. It’s the kind of smile that makes your heartbeat stutter, the kind that feels like a secret you’re sharing with the whole room.

She catches your gaze and holds it for a heartbeat longer than necessary, then tilts her head with that bright, reckless ease she wears so well. The smile isn’t big, but it’s enough to wreck you—soft and wicked all at once, the kind that says she sees you, cares, and perhaps wants to tease a little more than the performance allows.

The crowd’s adrenaline still hums in the air as she drifts closer, not in a rush but with a measured grace that makes the moment feel personal. You meet her halfway, the press of bodies and timing dissolving into the heat between you. Her hand lands at the back of your neck—the same touch that steadied you before, now threaded with a new, teasing intent. She leans in close enough that you can feel her breath warm your cheek, the scent of stage makeup and something sweeter curling between you.

“Nice save out there,” she whispers, a spark in her eyes. “That smile was your best move.”

You swallow, wanting to reply with something witty, something honest, but all you can manage is a quiet, “You did most of the saving.”

She laughs softly, a sound that travels straight to your ribs. Then she steps closer, the toe of her shoe brushing yours in a playful, deliberate way. The smile widens, and you’re struck again by how that little curve of lips can make your world tilt—how her presence tightens the air you share, turning ordinary backstage into a charged space you both know isn’t just about the tour.

Her fingers glide along your sleeve, a subtle invitation to lean in, to let the warmth of her body pull you into the moment you’ve both been circling. When you do, she rests her forehead against yours for a heartbeat, a breath you both ride together. The smile never fades; it grows bolder, more mischievous, as if to say, I’m here, I’m yours, and we’re not done yet.

“Keep your eyes on me,” she murmurs, the command playful but sincere. The next beat she tilts closer, brushing your lips with a kiss that’s soft and lingering, enough to ignite a spark you both pretend isn’t there in the middle of a world of lights and cameras. It’s a kiss that tastes of relief and risk and the thrill of being seen—just you and her in this private, shared moment.

When the kiss breaks, she rests a casual, teasing smile against your mouth, her breath still warm against your skin. She steps back with a wink that hits you in the chest, then glides away toward the corridor with the same effortless grace she carries on stage. The smile lingers in your thoughts as you watch her disappear into the bustle, the memory of that sweet, reckless moment settling into the rhythm of your heartbeat.

The arena’s roar swells again as the next act lines up, but you feel a new current running through you—a promise that the next time she looks your way, it won’t just be a glance. It’ll be the same cute, arousing smile, and a shared moment that pretends the world doesn’t exist outside the backstage door

The weeks blurred into a carousel of airports, rehearsal halls, and neon-lit hotel lobbies. You moved like clockwork, always a step behind Sakura — ready to guide her through crowds, shield her from overeager fans, or just keep her in sight when the chaos hit.

But somewhere between the stages and the soundchecks, she started playing this quiet game with you.

A glance over her shoulder mid-performance. A subtle wink during soundcheck when no one was watching. The kind that didn’t just catch your attention — it derailed your entire train of thought. By the time you remembered to breathe, she’d already turned away, pretending nothing happened.

And now, in Bangkok, the game had followed you here.

It was late when she found you in the hallway, leaning casually against the wall outside her room. The city lights spilled through the tall glass windows behind her, catching in her hair.

“You’re up late,” you said, keeping your voice steady.

She tilted her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “So are you.”

For a heartbeat, you both just stood there — you trying to read her, her looking at you like she already knew what was in your head. Then, with that same quiet confidence she carried on stage, she stepped closer, fingers brushing the edge of her door.

And before you could find an answer, she was already holding the door open.

"C-come in," Sakura stammers, stepping aside to let you enter. The door closes softly behind you as Sakura leads you into the living room, her bare feet padding against the plush carpet. She offers you a drink from the mini-bar, her fingers trembling slightly as she hands you the glass.

"I'm really glad you're here," Sakura whispers, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink. "It gets so lonely on the road and... I just wanted someone to keep me company tonight."

She sets her own drink down on the coffee table and turns to face you, fidgeting with the hem of her dress. "I've never... I mean, I don't have much experience with this sort of thing," she admits shyly, her gaze darting to the floor. "But I feel so comfortable with you."

Your heart swells with affection for the sweet, innocent girl before you. You set your drink aside and take Sakura's small hands in yours, giving them a gentle squeeze. "It's okay," you soothe, tilting her chin up with your finger so she's forced to meet your gaze. "We don't have to rush into anything. Just relax and let me take care of you."

Sakura nods, her shoulders sagging with relief. You pull her into your arms, resting your chin on the top of her head as she burrows against your chest. Your hands stroke up and down her back, rubbing soothing circles into the fabric of her dress.

After a moment, Sakura tilts her head back and captures your lips in a chaste kiss. She tastes like champagne and cherries, her mouth soft and pliant against yours. You deepen the kiss slowly, coaxing her to part her lips and allow you entrance.

Your tongue delves into the warm cavern of her mouth, tangling with hers in a sensual dance. Sakura whimpers into the kiss, her fingers curling into your shirt as she presses closer. You walk her backwards towards the bedroom, never breaking the contact of your lips.

When Sakura's legs hit the edge of the bed, she sits down, pulling you with her. You settle on top of her, your body cradled between her thighs. She arches beneath you with a soft sigh, her hips lifting to meet yours.

Your hand finds the zipper of her dress and slowly drags it down, baring her smooth skin inch by tantalizing inch. Sakura blushes deeply as you peel the fabric away, revealing her simple white bra and panties. You dip your head, pressing hot kisses along the column of her throat and down to the swell of her breasts.

Sakura gasps as you palm the soft mounds, her nipples hardening against your touch. She squirms beneath you, mewling with pleasure as you lavish attention on her sensitive breasts. Your fingers make quick work of the front clasp of her bra, freeing the perfect globes to your hungry gaze.

"Beautiful," you breathe, lowering your mouth to one rosy peak. Sakura cries out as you draw the nipple into your mouth, suckling gently. Her hands fist in your hair, holding you close as you worship her body with lips and tongue.

By the time you tug her panties down her thighs, Sakura is a quivering mess beneath you. Her pussy glistens with arousal, the pink folds slick and swollen with need. You trail your fingers through her damp curls, circling her clit lightly.

"Ohhh," Sakura whimpers, her hips bucking into your touch. You tease her mercilessly, drawing out her pleasure until she's practically begging for more. Only then do you sink two fingers deep into her tight channel, curling them just right.

Sakura's back arches off the bed as she comes undone, her inner walls fluttering around your invading digits. You work her through it, stroking her G-spot until she collapses bonelessly against the mattress.

With trembling hands, Sakura reaches for you, fumbling with the fastenings of your pants. She frees your aching erection and strokes you reverently, marveling at the thick length.

"I want you inside me," she breathes, spreading her legs in invitation. You notch the head of your cock at her entrance, pushing forward slowly. Sakura lets out a shuddering moan as you fill her inch by delicious inch, stretching her impossibly tight sheath around you.

You set a gentle pace, letting Sakura adjust to your size. Her hands clutch at your shoulders, nails digging into your skin as she meets your every thrust. Soon she's writhing beneath you, her hips lifting to take you deeper.

"Harder," Sakura gasps, surprising herself with the demand. You oblige, slamming into her with increased fervor. The wet sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echo through the room, mingling with Sakura's wanton cries.

You feel your climax building at the base of your spine, your balls drawing up tight. With a guttural groan, you bury yourself to the hilt and explode inside Sakura's spasming pussy, coating her womb with your seed.

Sakura follows soon after, her body shaking with the force of her release. She clings to you, her face buried in the crook of your neck as she rides out the waves of pleasure crashing over her.

You collapse beside her, pulling her close as you both struggle to catch your breath. Sakura snuggles into your side, placing a soft kiss on your chest. "That was... incredible," she sighs happily. "Thank you for being so gentle with me."

You press a kiss to the top of her head, smiling down at her adoringly. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, my sweet Sakura. I'm yours, forever and always."

Sakura beams up at you, her eyes shining with love and contentment. "I'm so lucky to have you by my side," she whispers, curling into you even more tightly. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

You and Sakura spend the next few days exploring each other's bodies in increasingly intimate ways, each encounter more passionate than the last. On the third night, you find yourselves tangled in the luxurious hotel sheets once again, your skin slick with sweat and desire.

Sakura mewls beneath you as you kiss your way down her body, lingering at her breasts to suckle and tease her hardened nipples. She arches into your touch, her fingers threading through your hair as she guides your head lower. You obey her unspoken command, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her toned stomach until you reach the apex of her thighs.

The scent of her arousal fills your nostrils as you inhale deeply, savoring the intoxicating aroma. Sakura whimpers as you part her glistening folds with your fingers, revealing her swollen clit. You dip your head, your tongue delving into her wet heat to lap up the sweet nectar of her desire.

"Oh god, yes!" Sakura cries out, her hips bucking against your face. You work her relentlessly, alternating between licking and sucking on her sensitive nub. Your fingers pump in and out of her tight channel, curling to hit that magical spot that has her seeing stars.

Sakura's legs quake as her climax approaches, her inner walls fluttering around your invading digits. With a final flick of your tongue against her clit, she comes undone with a keening wail, her release gushing over your chin. You lap at her hungrily, prolonging her pleasure until she collapses back onto the bed, boneless and sated.

But you're far from done with her. Flipping Sakura onto her stomach, you admire the tantalizing view of her pert ass and glistening pussy. She looks back at you over her shoulder, her eyes dark with lust. "Fuck me," she demands breathlessly, arching her back to present herself to you.

With a growl, you notch the head of your cock at her entrance and surge forward, burying yourself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. Sakura gasps at the sudden intrusion, her hands fisting in the sheets as she adjusts to your size. You give her a moment to acclimate before setting a hard and fast pace, slamming into her from behind.

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as you pound into Sakura's dripping cunt, her slick walls gripping you like a vise. She meets your every thrust, pushing back against you greedily. Your fingers dig into the soft flesh of her hips as you rail her mercilessly, the force of your movements causing her to slide across the bed.

Sakura's moans rise in pitch as another orgasm builds low in her belly, her pussy starting to flutter around your pistoning shaft. You reach around to strum her clit, circling the sensitive nub with your thumb. Sakura shrieks as she comes apart at the seams, her body convulsing with the force of her release.

You're right behind her, your balls tightening as your climax swiftly approaches. With a final thrust, you bury yourself as deep as you can go and explode inside Sakura's spasming sheath, flooding her womb with your hot seed. You collapse onto her back, both of you panting and trembling in the aftermath.

Later, as you lay entwined with Sakura in the bathtub, you take turns soaping each other up, your hands gliding over slick skin. Sakura turns around to straddle your lap, water sluicing down her back as she sinks down onto your hardening cock. You groan at the feel of her enveloping heat, your hands gripping her hips to guide her movements.

Sakura rides you slowly, rolling her hips in a sensual grind that has you seeing stars. She leans in to capture your lips in a languid kiss, her tongue tangling with yours as she undulates above you. The water sloshes around you with each rise and fall of her body, the sound muffled by the pounding of your hearts.

You thumb Sakura's clit in time with her gyrations, feeling her walls begin to ripple around you. She breaks the kiss with a gasp, her head falling back as she chases her release. With a few well-placed swivels of her hips, Sakura comes apart in your arms, her pussy clamping down on you like a vice.

The sensation is too much and you follow her over the edge, spilling yourself inside her with a ragged groan. Sakura slumps against your chest as you both come down from your highs, your hands stroking soothing circles on each other's backs.

The next morning, Sakura awakens you with a sensual kiss and a sultry smile. She straddles your hips and rubs herself along your growing erection, moaning at the feel of your hard length between her slick folds. You sit up and take a nipple into your mouth, sucking and biting gently as she grinds against you.

Sakura reaches between your bodies to stroke your shaft, guiding you to her entrance. With a smooth roll of her hips, she sinks down onto you, engulfing you in her velvety heat. You groan against her breast as she starts to ride you slowly, building up a steady rhythm that has you both panting with need.

Your hands grip Sakura's ass, kneading the firm globes as you thrust up into her from below. She bounces on your cock with increasing fervor, her nails digging into your shoulders for support. The room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin and Sakura's wanton moans as she chases her pleasure.

You flip Sakura onto her back, driving into her harder and faster. Her legs wrap around your waist, heels digging into your lower back as she meets you thrust for thrust. "Fuck me harder," Sakura demands breathlessly, her eyes wild with lust. "Make me yours!"

Your hips snap forward like a piston, slamming into Sakura's g-spot with each deep stroke. Her pussy starts to flutter around you, signaling her impending orgasm. You redouble your efforts, pushing Sakura higher and higher until she finally shatters with a scream of ecstasy, her inner walls milking your cock for all it's worth.

With a final, powerful thrust, you bury yourself as deep as you can go and explode inside Sakura's spasming sheath, flooding her with your seed. You collapse onto the bed beside her, both of you gasping for breath as you come down from your shared high.

In the days that follow, you and Sakura continue to explore each other's bodies in every way imaginable - missionary, doggy style, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, spooning that leaves you both impressed and breathless. Each encounter is more passionate than the last, fueled by a growing love and devotion for one another.

And as you lay entwined together on the final night of The Le sserafim’s tour, basking in the afterglow of another mind-blowing lovemaking session and the excitement of how the members don’t know anything., you know that no matter what the future may hold, you'll always have this incredible bonding experience to look back on - the time when two souls came together in perfect harmony, leaving an indelible mark on each other's hearts.

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sassybeacondesolation · 5 hours ago

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Share the Sheets, Won't You?

Length: 2.8k words

Genre: Smut

Nmixx Bae x Male Reader

(Author's Note: Bae'd. Thanks to @defmaybe for beta and @mintwithchoco for the photos that sparked this fic <3)

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚✩࿐

Bae always taps her thigh whenever she’s itching to ask you something, her fingers playing a silent melody against the fabric of her gray sweats. You never told her this; you like it too much. There’s a simple, unbridled kind of joy at having this sort of upper hand over her—or, rather, every other guy that claims to know her.

After finishing Debussy’s Clair de Lune on her leg, you feel a shift in the mattress as she turns to you. Without looking up from your phone, you can already tell that she has that glint in her eye: the kind of glint that turns you into putty in her hands, malleable and easy.

“Mind if I sleep over?”

“No.” You’re lying.

“C’mon,” Bae pouts, nudging your arm.

“You slept over two days ago. I want the bed to myself tonight.” Your pants are up in flames.

With the dramatics of an off-broadway show, she collapses back onto your mattress, limbs splayed out as if you hit her with your car. You stifle a grin, not wanting to add fuel to her fire, but it’s no use—she could keep up the act all night if you let her.

“I can’t believe you want me dead—”

“Not what I said—”

“It was implied!” She swings a leg over your calf, staking claim over you with her cold toes. Your phone is tossed aside at this point; discarded to whatever crevice of your bed it fell through, a problem for the you of tomorrow that inevitably fell for the charm of the boba-eyed beauty staring at you like a sad cat in the rain.

“It’s dangerous for a girl to be out this late, all alone and defenseless,” she says, slender fingers trailing your chest for a second too long, yet not long enough.

“I’ll drive you home.”

“And contribute to the rising level of greenhouse gas emissions? No thank you, sir.” She pokes your chest, her lips just one impulse away from you. “Tsk tsk, and I thought you were more environmentally conscious. How disappointing.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” And yet, you smile until your cheeks ache, entranced by this silly game of cat and mouse you always seem to find yourself in.

“And you’re being mean.” Bae scoots into your side, and you let her, wrapping an arm around her slim waist like it’s where she belongs. “So what’s it gonna be? Hm?” Her nose is upturned at you, all smug and superior, and it takes all your self-control to not immediately cover her face in gentle kisses.

“Bae, please—”

“Yes or no?”

“C’mon—”

“It’s a simple question.”

“I just want to sleep by myself tonight—”

“Then why is your hand on my ass?” Her smile is all teeth as she shimmies herself into your palm. Honest to God, you have no idea how it got there—but there’s no way in Hell you’re moving it away.

“Because I’m a huge pervert that you shouldn’t be spending the night with,” you answer, some lousy last-ditch attempt at getting her to leave.

“Mmm, maybe I’m into perverts,” she purrs, biting her soft lip salaciously. For a moment, you’re jealous it’s not your lip between her teeth.

“Jesus, that’s one of the grossest things you’ve ever said,” you chuckle.

“And yet, you’re still here.”

“I live here, Bae.”

“No, I meant—” in one swift motion, she straddles your lap, cupping your face in her hands until she’s all you can see, “—here. You’re still here.”

Every inch of your vision becomes occupied by this brash, annoying, crude, funny, adorable, beautiful girl. The only girl you’d ever drive an hour and a half away for in the dead of night because her car broke down. The only girl who endures all your nerdy rants about your new favorite TV shows. The only girl you want to wake up to in the morning.

“Hey,” you whisper in the space between lips.

“Hi.” Bae smiles, and your chest tightens, your heart growing larger than your body can handle.

“This is fun. I like this.”

Her arms slide around your neck, nose brushing against yours. You let your eyes flutter shut, content in feeling the warmth of her—her body. Her breath. Her essence. Just her.

“Why tell me to leave if you’re having so much ‘fun’ then?”

“Because I’m a liar. A huge, stupid liar.”

“The stupid part is right.” Her face presses into the crook of your neck. You inhale sharply with each pass of breath that graces your skin. “I mean, who would be dumb enough to reject a fun night with a hot girl?”

“I’ve been lying about other things,” you admit, like a sin. Her body tenses up against you.

“About… what?” Her voice grows serious—scared.

“Nothing bad, just…” You hold her close, like the next few words could take her away from you. “...Remember when you said you wanted to keep things casual?”

“...Yeah?”

“I-I… I, um…” You stand at a precipice, overlooking a bottomless chasm of uncertainty. The cat’s out of the bag now. The beans are spilled; the genie’s out the bottle; there’s no going back after this. “I want to—”

Bae presses a kiss to your lips, tender and soft and everything you could ever ask for. Her fingers thread your hair, tugging each handful in the way only she knows you like. You grip the edge of her top like a lifeline, ready to give your all to this girl—every cell in your body, every fiber of your being, all you want in life is to be hers and hers alone.

She pulls away, a mere inch of space between you, as if any farther would be too much.

“That was rude,” you say, a small smirk on your lips. “You didn’t let me finish.”

“You’re so stupid.” You can barely process the rolling of her eyes before she plants a playful peck on your nose. “And so cute.”

“Does this mean you feel the same way? I mean, about wanting to make all this… real?”

A sigh ghosts past her lips, a small dagger to your heart. “You know how I feel about relationships.”

You grit your teeth to hide your disappointment. She never talks about what happened before you, and you never asked—figured if it was important enough, she would bring it up on her own. But, for a little while, it felt nice to think that there was a chance for something more, no matter how small it is.

“I know, I know,” you sigh. “I just thought—”

“I’m willing to try.”

Like a song from the Heavens, you feel yourself levitate at those four words. “R-really? You mean it?”

She chuckles, warm puffs of her hitting your chin. “God, you’re so cute.” Bae pulls you in for another kiss that ends too soon—an eternity too soon. You’d live in the seam of her lips if you could. “I’m gonna suck at this.”

“I know.”

“I’m gonna make mistakes.”

“I am too.”

“I might hurt you.”

“Possibly.”

“And you still wanna do this?”

You cup her face, thumb tracing over the gentle swell of her cheek. Bae is so… much. So delicate, yet so tough. So impulsive, yet so thoughtful. So confident, yet so anxious. One big, beautiful contradiction.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted,” you admit, like it’s gospel and you’re her devout follower.

“You’re too sweet to me.” Her expression cracks for a moment, the fear poking out from underneath. “What if I make you hate me?”

“I could never—”

“You don’t know that—”

“I do.” Truer words have never been spoken from your tongue. “I don’t think I could ever hate you. There’s not a single cell in my body that’s capable of hating you.” She sinks into your touch, her cheek flush against your fingers, and you’re gone—falling off the edge into whatever this thing could be. “Bae, I… I love—

“No!” Bae slaps a hand over your mouth, eyes wide in panic like finishing your thought would set her ablaze. In an instant, her walls are back up before you can properly grasp the worry in her eyes. “Not yet. I’m, uh, not ready.”

“Sorry,” you utter against her palm. “Too soon?”

“A little?” She pulls her hand away with a heavy sigh. “I’m already messing up, aren’t I?”

“Hey, it’s okay, I should be the one apologizing—”

“No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong, I’m just—”

You silence her worries with a kiss, gentle, hopeful, the start of something new. Whatever ghosts hang around her, you want to be the one by her side when she faces them. But, for now, you just want her to forget about everything and simply feel good. To feel loved in ways words alone can’t convey.

You roll her onto her back, taking one last look at those beautiful eyes—your girlfriend’s eyes—before trailing kisses down her neck, each one hungrier than the last.

“You sure know how to shut me up,” she breathes, fingers entangled in your hair. You feel her tense up and come undone beneath you with each movement—so sensitive. The straps of her top fall off her shoulder and give way to the swell of her breasts, perfect handfuls in your palm.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” you murmur into her skin like an open secret.

Bae giggles. “You say that every time.”

“And I mean it every time.”

Her breath quivers as you take her breast into your mouth, worshipping her with your tongue like you’re reciting a prayer; the taste of her so familiar, yet addicting all the same. Each flick against her sensitive mounds leaves her trembling, clawing, whimpering, anything to show you how much she needs this—how much she needs you, even if she’s afraid to say it. You let your eyes shut and your mind fall empty, wholly intent on pleasuring the work of art laying before you.

“Just like that, baby,” she coos, palming the growing bulge in your sweats. Limbs tangle, words drip, each movement with the cohesion of dancers and the grace of two insatiable fools. Bae pulls your shirt off like it’s a sin to be clothed, branding your chest so everyone knows you belong to her. You let her; all you’ve ever wanted was to be hers.

She admires her handiwork, tracing her finger against the marks like it’s a game of connect the dots. “I hope you weren’t planning on going to the beach anytime soon,” she teases, teeth bared in a wide grin.

“Are you kidding? I’m getting each of these tattooed as soon as possible,” you quip.

Bae grabs your face and, for a moment, the two of you laugh, forgetting that your one pants tug away from sensual bliss. The puff of her cheeks, the way her hair is sticking up, those precious eyes looking back at you like you’re the most important person in the world, you want to remember every single detail of this night—bookmark it in your memory and make sure every night with this girl ends like this.

You feel a hand grip the hem of your sweatpants, eager yet patient. “You gonna keep staring or finally give me what I want?” she asks, brow raised.

“I’m fine either way.”

She rolls your eyes at you, a smile dancing on her lips. “You’re ridiculous.” Her hand snakes deeper into your pants, grasping your throbbing shaft and drawing a moan from your lips. “Now please will you fuck me?”

You break out into a grin. “It’s hard to say no when you ask so nicely.” You press your lips into hers as she fishes your cock out of its fabric prison, fingers wrapped around you possessively. As her thumb grazes the sensitive part of your tip, a moan escapes your lips and her tongue fills the resulting void; each lick, each stroke making your mind slowly come undone.

In the midst of your Bae-fueled haze, you find yourself with your back pressed into your mattress and the girl of your dreams looming over you, no more pesky barriers in the way of her sweet honey pot. It’s mesmerizing how her pink lips glisten with her arousal.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” you say, practically drooling as your hands caress her toned thighs.

“That’s the second time you’ve said that tonight, bud,” she teases. “One more time and I’m gonna start to think you’re in lov—” Her smile falters, giving way to a rosy hue blooming on her cheeks. “I meant, um…”

“God,” you chuckle, pulling her body flush on top of yours, “you’re such a loser.”

She pouts. “Well, you wanted me—so here I am.”

Bae rests her forehead on top of yours as she sinks slowly onto your cock, inch by inch disappearing into her velvety sweetness. Hot gasps mingle in the narrow space between your lips, eyes locked in a staring contest neither of you are willing to lose, all while she moves her hips at an agonizingly slow pace.

“Fuck, baby…” she whispers. Her teeth sink into your bottom lip, hurting you in all the ways that feel right, before soothing it immediately with the pad of her tongue. There’s a simple joy in letting her set the pace, letting her use you anyway she wants for tonight—a friend, a lover, a piece of meat, you’d become anything for this girl.

In the measured rocking of Bae’s body, there’s no expectation of performance, no external reasoning for fucking other than the want, the need to be as close as humanely possible; chest against chest, limbs entangled in limbs, every atom rubbing together to produce a warmth you’ve only ever imagined. Maybe she’ll wake up tomorrow morning to realize that she doesn’t want this, that she’s not ready for anything more than casual—you’ll support her in her decisions like you always have, silently dealing with the pain of having everything you’ve ever wanted ripped away in an instant—but for tonight, buried in the space between her thighs, you’ll love her.

Love her openly; unabashedly; truthfully.

You roll her onto her back, watching her come undone with each thrust. “Oh shit,” she gasps, eyes gleaming at you with intrigue, “You’re working extra hard tonight, huh?”

“Want me to stop?”

“You better fucking not—MMPH!”

You give her what she desires, making her lose control of her own body as she succumbs to your ceaseless pounding—back arching off the mattress, face contorting with pleasure, fingers whiteknuckling your sheets. The bed creaks with the force of your movements, mingling with the beautifully filthy chorus of her whines; the octave of her voice continues to crescendo as she approaches her climax.

You lean down to her ear, panting heavily against her cheek. “Where do you want me to—”

“Inside.” Bae’s arms snake around your neck. “Fucking cum inside me please.”

Everything around you fades, mind and body only focused on pleasuring the women underneath you. The cacophony of pure and utter lovemaking rings through your ears, driving each thrust deeper and deeper into her deserving cunt, chasing her orgasm just as much as your own. Her nails dig into your shoulders. Your legs burn with exhaustion. And yet, you’ve never felt better, deep within the girl you’ve loved for years.

All your efforts culminate to a blissful ending as Bae’s slick walls milk you for all your worth. She clings onto you for dear life as her own orgasm washes over her, face nestled into the crook of your neck, almost as if it was perfectly sculpted for her. Long after the both of you come down from your highs, neither of you are willing to move from your entwined state like a statute symbolizing the purest form of connection.

“Mmm,” Bae finally manages to croak out.

“You okay?”

“Better than okay.” Her lips form into a small satisfied grin. “Wayyyyy better.”

You chuckle softly. “I’m glad I met your expectations.”

She drapes her leg possessively over your hip, hugging you tight like a koala to a tree. “Above and beyond, as always.”

The gentle hum of the ceiling fan fills the silence for a while, accompanied by the occasional shuffling of fabric or the soft release of lips against skin. No single word exists to even begin describing the feelings swelling up in your chest. Elation. Euphoria. Paradise. Cloud fucking nine. Maybe a word will be born in the near future to truly encapsulate this feeling, or maybe that word will never exist at all; all that matters to you is the Now—in your own little pocket of the universe, cuddling the most amazing girl to ever exist.

“Got any plans for tomorrow?” she murmurs, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.

“Definitely need to do laundry.” You glance at the stains of lovemaking all over your sheets.

“Sorry.” She’s not.

“Don’t be. If I was a grosser man, I wouldn’t even bother washing them.”

“Ewww,” she chuckles.

“I told you I was a huge pervert, didn’t I?”

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sassybeacondesolation · 3 days ago

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D.A | Since I’ve Been Loving You

Male reader x IVE Wonyoung

Word count: 14k | Tags: fluff, princess treatment as always for her, breeding, creampies, morning sex, love making, daddy kink, dirty talk, fingering, clothed sex, guided masturbation (to her), cum control, squirt, bdsm, cowgirl wony (quite literally)

Synopsis: As a Prada ambassador, you and Wony are at the Miu Miu show at Paris Fashion Week as a guest of the house. Later, you have a romantic evening getaway through the cold winter Paris.

━•✦•━•✦•━

"You're there right now, aren't you?" you asked your girlfriend, looking out at the streets of Paris through the window of the car Prada had sent to pick you up. Natalia was sitting in the passenger seat.

You had landed early in the morning, after a one-and-a-half-hour flight from Milan, exactly a week and half after your night with Rina and Gawon. Thank goodness she couldn't spend much time with you the next day and had to leave for Korea the day after, because if you were honest with yourself, you needed a little break from her to think about your feelings.

Staying alone in your city—with a night with Somi in between, which you certainly didn't turn down—helped you clear your head a lot. Several of those days were dedicated to work, whether it was going to meetings with sponsors, doing IRL, or regular streaming from the apartment you had rented. But it was just what you needed to stop thinking about the whole thing with Rina.

Who, by the way, you'd been ghosting. Not too much, but just enough. You'd get back to your usual chatting routine with her. Later, when you returned from Paris to Milan. Your intentions were to also have a serious conversation about your relationship, but you weren’t going to think about it for the moment.

Right now your priorities were different.

"Yeah," Wony answered on the other end of the line. She yawned right after. "I just woke up. Are you coming here yet?"

"I'm about fifteen minutes away, maybe less," you said. "Can we meet?"

"Well... yeah, right? We were going to do it without you even asking."

"I know I know, but right now. As soon as I get there."

"Oh, yeah! I think so. I'll let you know when you get here, okay? I have to talk to my manager."

"Great," you smiled like an idiot, causing Natalia to look at you mockingly. "I'm going to hang up, baby. I love you."

"I love you too, my sweet boy," Wony replied, and you heard a peck on the microphone. "See you in a bit."

You hung up and stared out the window for a while, entranced. When you looked back, Natalia was still staring at you.

"What?" you asked.

"That's how my older brother smiled before he married my sister-in-law."

You clicked your tongue, snorted, and looked back out the window, putting the headphones you had around your neck on to listen to your Michael Jackson playlist for the rest of the ride.

15 minutes later, you arrived at the Le Bristol Hotel, where Prada and Miu Miu were hosting their guests. This time, you didn't pull any strings to get a suite, not because you couldn't, but because you were already a pain in the ass for the brand with that kind of thing. On top of that, you didn't want to look like a snobby little brat. You'd settle for the deluxe room (with garden view, a huge plus) they'd booked for you, for which you were already more than grateful.

Upon going up and leaving your luggage scattered around the room, you unpacked only the essentials, let Wony know you'd arrived, and went to the bathroom to wash your face. While you were doing so, you received a notification on your phone: your girlfriend telling you to come down in about ten minutes, if possible.

After telling her you'd be there, you didn't even change your clothes and went straight down to the lobby, without waiting for the ten minutes to pass. You waited near the foot of the stairs that led in a semicircle to the upper floor, leaning your back against a tall, marble pillar.

While you waited you heard several people coming down, but instead of looking every second to see who it was, you decided to keep your eyes on your phone to act mysterious (you seemed autistic). It wasn't until someone tapped your shoulder that you looked up from the screen.

"Honey, how many times do I have to tell you you're not Bruce Wayne?" Wony said, a mocking smirk on her face.

Your girlfriend was dressed in comfortable clothes, a half-lowered mask, sunglasses, and her hair tied back in a high bun; she looked rushed, probably on her way to get ready for the show later. Her manager and crew were nearby, at a safe distance to give you both privacy.

You laughed, took her hand, and pulled her towards you for the hug you'd been craving for weeks. Wony threw her arms around your neck and held onto you tightly, and you had one arm around her waist and the other across her back. Both of you were breathing in each other's scent as if it were aromatherapy. It wasn't the most subtle thing in the world, but you cared less than nothing.

"Hey, baby," you murmured, caressing her back, your face in her neck.

"Hey, darling," Wony murmured back, her voice small, caressing your shoulder and the back of your neck with her thumbs. "Did you sleep at all on the flight?"

"Nah, I didn't have enough time," you replied, and realizing you'd been hugging for about a minute, you released her from your arms. "And you? I think your eyes are still glued shut from sleep," you pointed at her sunglasses.

Wony took off her glasses, folded them, and placed them in her hand. Her pretty eyes and makeup-free face looked as angelic as ever.

"I'm just being mysterious," she replied, reaching up to fix the collar of your sweater. "I'm picking up habits from you."

You chuckled.

"Right. I just hope you don't pick up smoking cigarettes. I'd kick your ass."

"No way," she pouted in disgust. "You know the smell is awful, and the sooner you quit, the better."

"That's what I'm trying to do, baby. I only smoke one a day at most now."

"Mmm, that's good," Wony crossed her arms. "But I'm not going to congratulate you until it's zero instead of one."

"One step at a time, sweetheart," you made a gesture of cupping her face with your hand, but held back as a precaution. Her staff was too close, and you weren't the only ones in the lobby at that hour. "Fuck, I'd kiss you right now. I'm struggling."

"Nuh-uh," Wony shook her head, one eyebrow raised. "You wanted to meet right now. And we can't here."

"I know, I know. Just wait until we're alone later."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Kinda. I need you, girl," you stared into her eyes. "A lot."

Wony remained silent, staring at you. Her cheeks flushed.

"And I'll do everything I can to make you need me even more." Wony looked you up and down, lingering for a moment on your lips before returning to your eyes. "You're not ready, babe."

"Is the outfit too killer?"

Behind her, Wony's manager signaled, showing her her phone. She had to go. Wony stuck out her thumb, nodded, and looked back at you.

"You'll see for yourself later," Wony placed a small kiss on her fingers and then pressed them against your lips. "I love you, baby. See you at the show."

"Take care, darling," you winked at her as she returned to her staff. "Love you too."

With that and little else, Wony and her entire crew headed back up the stairs. You did the same a few minutes later, knowing you were going to have to go through the same preparation process she did before the show.

You had to mentally prepare for it. More cameras, more damned curbs full of people. And this time the damn walk from the moment you got out of the car to the Palais d'Iéna—where the show would take place—was going to be longer.

But you'd already had a taste of the experience before, and nothing was going to be worse than that first time.

It would be a piece of cake.

Right?

For the love of fucking God, how intimidating the damn place was, even more so than the Fondazione Prada.

The Palais wasn't a one-way street where people gathered farther away and more contained to the sides, but a semicircular space elevated above the street, with a broad esplanade that rose up to the Palais itself—a curved building with columns and large windows. There, people gathered in rows behind the circular plaza at the center, as well as along the lower streets that flanked and surrounded the space.

Basically, there were cameras under every fucking stone, great.

"Are you okay?" Natalia asked from beside you. She'd be the first to get out.

"Oh yeah, fucking awesome," you replied, between staring out the window and adjusting your outfit: a Shetland wool crew-neck sweater, a brandy-colored Nappa leather jacket, black wool pants, and ankle boots. It wasn't your usual style, but when they presented the proposal to you at the fitting, you couldn't resist giving it a try. "It's not at all nearly double the number of people than a week ago."

"Actually, I think there are more."

You glared at her.

"It was sarcasm, woman."

"Ah… well. Whatever you say. Hey, let's go." She patted you on the knee and hurried out of the car when it parked.

You had no choice but to follow her and get out as well, letting the cold air of that cloudy winter day in Paris wash over your face. Camera flashes immediately began to click in your direction, and you waved as you passed under the leafless trees that lined that side of the street. Your car pulled away behind you, leaving you alone with your bodyguard and Natalia.

Compared to last week, many more people recognized you this time and asked you to stop every now and then to pose for the cameras. There were also many people who asked you to come closer to sign things, which you did as you circled the small monument in the center of the circular plaza.

To your right, a couple more cars parked on the street. A guy you didn't even recognize got out of one, believing he was an absolute powerhouse who would steal all the spotlight (no one paid any attention to him).

But the most beautiful girl you ever saw in your god damn life got out of the other, making the crowd, and you, go crazy.

Your girlfriend was a cowgirl. A damn, fucking, cowgirl. Literally.

You couldn't afford to stop and stare at her for several reasons, but with quick, covert glances, you saw everything you needed from her mindblowingly hot outfit: from her brown suede crop top, her matching short skirt—decorated with a belt made of metallic chains and silver appliqués—to her tall black boots with metallic buckles.

The best part, without a doubt, were the accessories: earrings and a necklace in the shape of brown and white flowers, a very western-inspired brown handbag, and of course, the wide-brimmed light-colored straw hat on her head, tilted slightly back to highlight her long, beautiful brown hair.

She was absolutely right: you weren't prepared at all, feeling little short circuits in your brain every time you laid eyes on her. She was also right that she would do everything in her power to make you want her even more, because as she walked, she exuberated an overwhelming aura of confidence, elegance, and beauty that was soaking into your damn bones.

You wanted to stay out there a little longer just to see her, but she was coming in your direction, and if she was by your side, you were sure you wouldn't resist and would want to talk to her, so you had to move quickly, following Natalia into the Palais and ignoring Wony for a moment.

Inside, Natalia and you met a Miu Miu staffer, who guided you to the space where the show would be held. Walking there, you were quickly starstruck by one of your biggest idols. ASAP Rocky was surrounded by a small group of people, and he was talking to someone you knew was part of the Puma team, a brand with which Rocky, like you, also collaborated.

You had some freedom to move around and talk to whoever you wanted while the Miu Miu girl made a few arrangements, but you weren't going to talk to Rocky at all. You didn't want to be a nuisance. Besides, there's no way he'd know who...

"Hey, that's the guy who filmed the campaign with the soccer club, right?" You heard a man speak. Definitely him. You'd recognize that voice anywhere. "AC Milan, right?"

You played dumb since he wasn't talking to you and stood a short distance away, also completely ignoring the fact that he'd said soccer and not football. Then you heard the Puma guy confirm his suspicions.

"Yo, Ezio!" Rocky called after you.

Jesus fucking Christ, there was no way that was happening.

You turned around and approached with hesitant steps.

"What's up!" You laughed nervously, standing a moderate distance away. "Oh my god, do you really know who I am?"

It was Rocky himself who closed the distance between you and offered you his hand for a shake.

"Yes sir," he nodded with a polite smile as you shook his hand. "I've seen your stuff, you know, the album reactions and shit. You dope. Really loved that GNX reaction."

"Uh..." You blinked a few times, completely stunned. "Shit, uhm, thanks man. I've had your albums on repeat since high school, I... appreciate it, a lot."

"For sure," he let go of your hand. "Aye, give me a sec so I can talk to my people, don't go."

Rocky stepped away from you and went to talk to someone on his team, returning shortly after.

"Wanna go to the listening party for my new record?" he asked. "I don't have an exact date, but you should be there man. I'd appreciate your honest thoughts."

Just then, Wony walked past you, and your eyes met for a moment that was enough to make you three times as nervous.

"Oh hell yeah," you nodded, successfully managing not to stutter or look like an idiot, hands clasped behind your back since you didn't know what the hell to do with your arms. "It would be a complete honor, man. Just tell me when and where."

"Cool man," he smiled. "Aye, I should get going."

"Yeah yeah, sure. Thanks again man. It means a lot."

"No problem," Rocky offered you his fist bump. "See ya man."

You bumped his fist, and Rocky, along with the rest of his team, continued leading the way for him to his seat, leaving you feeling like you'd experienced something you couldn't have even dreamed of years ago. The Miu Miu staff returned to you a minute later, and also escorted you to your seat, which was...

Next to Wony's.

She was already sitting in her chair, recording videos for some brands, so you weren't allowed to sit down until she was finished. It wasn't long tho; a couple of minutes later, with trembling hands, you were able to sat down next to her. You gulped and looked forward, a little bit awkward. What the hell were you going to do? Pretend you didn't know each other and never speak during the whole show? Say hello? Talk at length?

"Hi!" she greeted you with a cordial smile when you turned to meet her gaze.

"Hi, bab..." You pursed your lips and ground your teeth into the bottom one to keep the word from leaving your mouth. "Hi," you greeted her back, smiling back.

Wony placed her hand over her mouth so her lips wouldn't be read and leaned slightly toward you, fully aware that there would be cameras everywhere.

"Just so you know, I'm not going to pretend I don't know you," she said softly. "So stop that constipated face and talk to me."

A small chuckle escaped you and you looked at her as she corrected her posture again. The seats around you were gradually filling up. She was certainly losing interest in the fact that your relationship was supposed to be sacredly private, something you'd suspected since that time in the hotel in Seoul and now confirmed with the glances she gave you.

"You're craving a dispatch article and TikTok edits, huh?" you said, looking around. "Because you can be sure it won't be long."

"No one has any idea how long or how much we've known each other," Wony said. "We're just a girl and a boy talking."

"A girl and a boy almost the same age, good-looking, and glancing at each other. Not suspicious at all."

"Well, if you want, I'll not talk to you for the whole hour of the show."

"I didn't say that!" you protested, accidentally raising your voice a little too much. You quickly brought your hand to your mouth.

Wony giggled, and pulled a pack of gum out of her handbag to offer you one, without looking directly at you.

"Here, see if you cool off and relax, dear," she said.

You sighed and picked up a piece of gum, accidentally letting your fingers brush against hers. You didn't know if it was because of that, but just a few minutes later, several photographers approached you, wanting to take pictures of just the two of you. Together. Not separately. One of them was a Korean press outlet.

Just what you were missing: being on the cover of a Naver article. Fucking awesome. It wasn't going to be enough with all the TikToks, tweets, and the rest. It was going to be a whole mess.

But if you were honest with yourself, in a way, you were happy that this was happening. Pretending you didn't know her at all would have been a serious blow to your feelings, so you were going to let it all flow.

The show started about 10 minutes later, and you and Wony stopped talking to focus on the collection being modeled. About half an hour passed until Wony brought her hand to her mouth and leaned slightly toward you, her gaze straight ahead.

"On a scale of one to ten, how much do you want to fill me with cock compared to this morning?" She whispered to you in Korean, in case there were any gossips nearby who might be listening.

The question caught you completely off guard. You remained silent and stared into space, your heart racing in your chest. She was definitely not doing that in that place.

"Eleven," you replied, curt and quick to get the image out of your head. Wony just chuckled with her lips.

From then until the end of the show, Wony did her best to show how comfortable she was with you, brushing your knees together whenever she crossed her legs, leaning slightly toward you, and laughing at every silly thing you said. At one point, you squeezed your thigh, not because you were nervous, but because all you wanted was to hold her face and kiss her.

After a while of counting the minutes, the show finally ended and the chairs began to empty, with the guests leaving for their post-show activities and interviews. Wony was one of those people, guided by her own manager to another space where you later saw she was posing for Elle Korea.

Natalia agreed to wait for you near the exit so you could head back to the hotel, since you had nothing scheduled after that other than some photos for some magazines and Prada's social media. As you walked there, you greeted and talked to several people you'd already met, some executives, staffers, and models—nothing unusual.

Until you saw her.

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

Was it her? You couldn't tell at first glance because of the sunglasses, but as you got closer and heard her voice, you confirmed it. She was your biggest fucking celebrity crush. Sydney fucking Sweeney. And you had to walk right past her if you wanted to get out of there.

Even with your buttock muscles tense as hell, you prepared to walk with your eyes straight ahead. It was as easy as asking for a photo or just saying hello out of politeness, but you were so terrified that you just wanted to run as far away from her as possible. You thought you'd make it and that she wouldn't notice you, but she took off her sunglasses and fixed you with her eyes.

You almost peed your pants.

"Oh, Ezio, right?" Sydney said, stepping in your way.

She knew who you were too. What in the even fuck was going on that day? What was next? Tyler The Creator asking you to be Golf Wang’s next model?

"Uh... y-yeah, that's me," you nodded, stopping in front of her. Too close for your heart's sake, maybe.

Sydney smiled, her lips smooth and kind.

"I loved what you did for Prada last week. You have a natural talent for being, you know, genuinely entertaining," she said, her hands in front of her, holding her handbag. "And I think it takes courage to bring that kind of approach to something as serious as fashion. It was great, really."

You gulped and raised your eyebrows, struggling to find the right words. You were about to pee your damn pants, because she kept staring at you with those gorgeous blue eyes.

"Thanks, it was... well, it was weird for a lot of people," you chuckled. "Glad it landed somewhere."

"It landed, trust me," she smiled, then tilted her head, quickly looking you up and down. "By the way, you really don't… blink, right?"

You blinked and your mouth fell a bit open, broken by the ambiguous question.

"Uhm... What?"

"That's a compliment, honey," she said, already turning back to where she'd been looking before. "I should go. It was nice meeting you."

"Uh, yeah... sure," you nodded.

"Oh, what was your Instagram?" Sydney asked, turning around again. "I remember asking for it, but no one ever gave it to me."

Had she just... asked for your Instagram? No, the real question was: had she asked for it before? Huh? And she fucking called you honey.

"Just search for Ezio Leone and it'll appear... I think."

"Alright, cool. See you later," she smiled and winked at you before turning around and walking off.

She fucking winked at you. If you'd been Eddie Murphy in Meet Dave, your crew would probably be panicking and running around like crazy trying to fix the stroke you were having.

You stood there staring into space, hands in your pants pockets. It probably looked like you'd seen a ghost from the outside, but no, it was worse than that.

You were forced to move, not wanting to hinder the dense flow of people coming and going. Natalia was waiting for you outside. She called the driver, who arrived about five minutes later to take you back to the hotel.

The lobby was bustling with activity, with Miu Miu staff, assistants, and models milling around the lobby after arriving from the show. You went straight up to your room, just wanting to get away from all the hustle and bustle.

Already in the peace and quiet of your room, you took off your jacket and called room service to bring up a bottle of cognac and another of soda so you could pour yourself a drink, which you drank on the small balcony overlooking the garden.

You were leisurely scrolling through your phone, seeing comments and likes on your recent posts and Instagram stories until you received two notifications that caught your attention and nearly made you throw your phone into the garden.

Sydney hadn't just followed you back, she'd also sent you a DM.

You meant to reply back, but your fucking hand was shaking and you didn't know how the fuck to react, so you just gave the message a heart reaction and put your phone back in your pocket, staring at a random tree while you drank the rest of the cognac.

What the fuck was going on? You'd lost count of how many times you'd asked yourself the same question all day.

A couple of knocks on the door brought you out of your stupor. You slipped into the room, left the glass on the desk in the corner, and went to answer it.

The person you met under the door made you instantly forget everything. Suddenly, no one else existed, just you and her.

"Hi, my sweet boy," Wony said, her head tilted and looking deep into your eyes, still dressed in the same outfit. The only thing she wasn't carrying was her handbag; her phone was loose in her hand.

You just stepped aside and let her in. Then you closed the door behind you, took the phone from her hand, threw it toward your bed, wrapped your arms around her, pulled her against your body and crashed your lips together.

Wony moaned and threw her arms around your neck, quickly tangling her fingers in strands of your hair and squeezing your shoulder with her other hand. You pressed her against the wall of the small hallway, your lips battling fiercely between heavy breaths as you squeezed her waist and the back of her neck.

"There was no need to ask me that in the middle of the show," you growled against her lips, and you hiked her skirt up to her waist to touch her slit with your fingers over her panties.

Wony moaned softly and dug her nails into your scalp, giving your lower lip a small bite.

"No, but it sure turned you on," she replied, reaching down to grab your cock over your pants. "Did you notice I took off my safety shorts before coming here?"

"That's very thoughtful of you, little slut," you placed small kisses on her lips, feeling the fabric of her panties wet beneath your fingertips. "You make my job easier."

You grabbed her waist, turned her around, and had her lean her hands against the wall. Then you dropped to your knees, wrapped her skirt around her waist, and with one swift pull, yanked the white panties she was wearing down her legs, with no intention of removing her boots. All you had left to do was spread her ass cheeks and sink your mouth between them to start eating her pussy with a rustic hunger.

"Oh fuck!" Wony moaned, arching her back and throwing her head back, one hand on her hat to keep it from falling off.

Eating that soft, wet pussy from behind after so long felt like finally tasting your favorite dish after centuries of not doing so. Your tongue worked in a desperate frenzy, up and down her folds while you massaged her lovely buttocks with your hands. Wony melted into moans, her thighs and knees trembling.

After a few long seconds of devouring her pussy, you stood up again and sucked on your middle and ring fingers with the sole intention of inserting them into her pussy, burying them until just the knuckles were out. Wony squealed, pursed her lips, and looked at you over her shoulder as you grabbed her waist with your free hand and began pumping your fingers.

The slow thrusts lasted only a moment, quickly replaced by a faster, more frantic rhythm, lacking care. Wony's pussy responded by tightening around your fingers, her folds wetting and making soft squelching sounds with each pump of your fingers. You kissed the nape of her neck and shoulders, the fingers of your other hand pressing into the flesh of her waist.

Wony reached back and grabbed the back of your neck, holding onto it as her hips bucked and her legs tensed. Your fingers soon fucked her harder and faster, your palm slamming against her buttocks until she squealed and came.

"Mmmgh yessss!!" Wony moaned, pushing her hips back against your fingers, her pussy dripping around them.

"I want to fuck you so damn hard," you growled, then bit her neck, sliding your other hand down her abdomen to gently rub her clit once her climax passed.

"Then what are you waiting for?" Wony replied, caressing your hair. "I can feel that juicy, hard cock under your pants. Fill me with it until I cry, daddy."

You didn't really need her to tell you that to do it, but it was the push you needed to scoop her up in one arm and walk with her to the desk, pull the chair aside, and place her ass on the edge of the glass surface. As she spread her legs wide, you quickly pulled down your pants and boxers to free your throbbing cock. Then, relying only on her natural lubrication, you took it inside her pussy with a single, rough thrust that made you both moan.

The sensation of being back inside your girlfriend's tight pussy felt heavenly. Too overwhelmingly good to believe you even deserved it. Wony leaned back and propped herself up on her elbows, her eyebrows raised and her mouth slightly open, momentarily paralyzed at the feel of you balls-deep inside her.

You brought her out of her trance when you began to move your hips back and forth, making sure she felt every inch of throbbing flesh going in and out. Moments later, you grabbed her thighs and went faster and faster, going from zero to one hundred in no time.

"Oh yes yes yes!" Wony squealed, rocked by your thrusts. "Hard, daddy, hard! Fuck that pretty wet pussy!"

You grunted and brought a hand to her neck over her necklace, not hesitating for a moment to squeeze hard with your fingers, making her moans reduce to faint, gasping sounds. Wony opened her mouth in a minute, her tongue stuck out, and you leaned forward to spit on her. It all fell on her tongue, but you also stained her chin and lips.

Soon the room began to reverberate with the intense, impetuous thrusts of your pelvis against her crotch. Wony couldn't moan because of the way you squeezed her throat, but just by seeing her pretty face reduced to grimaces of pleasure and her eyes rolled back, you knew you were fucking her so well you were melting her brains out.

You suddenly let go of her throat and slapped her sharply across the right cheek. Wony managed to react with a grunt that mixed with a whimper.

"This hard, baby?" you gasped, groping one of her tits over her crop top. "Do you like me fucking you this hard?"

"I fucking love it, fuck!" she squealed, letting her back fall against the desk with her hand on her head. "Keep going, daddy, I fucking beg you!"

You placed your hands on her thighs and pressed them together, then pushed them against her body, the soles of her boots now facing your face. At that angle, you fucked her hard and fast until you felt her thighs tense and tremble beneath your fingers. You knew she had come, but she was holding back her spasms. You caught the message and kept thrusting like an animal.

"Oh my godddd!!" Wony whimpered, and peeking over to look at her, you noticed tears pooling in her eyes that soon fell onto the desk. "Daddy fuckkk!!"

Wony slammed the glass beneath her—in a rather dangerous manner—and exploded into a second consecutive orgasm which now came with a little surprise. You had to pull out of her so she could squirt to her heart's content, a couple of strong jets that soaked the carpeted floor.

"Good fucking girl," you grunted, hornier than a son of a bitch, and gave her pussy a hard slap before going back inside.

Once again pounding her pussy like a madman, Wony was forced to take off her hat for a moment and cover her face with it so she could scream in pleasure. Your frantic thrusts into her soaked pussy soon translated into the approach of your climax, so when you felt close, you pulled out of her and quickly masturbated until you came.

"Ughh!!" You groaned against your clenched teeth, shooting jets of hot cum onto her pussy, her thigh, and her rolled-up skirt.

You took a step back, and Wony quickly got off the desk to kneel in front of you, taking your cock into her mouth without you having to ask. She sucked you clean, catching the drops of cum that kept coming out, and then pulled you out to look at you with her tongue out, showing you the small pool of fluid inside her before swallowing it.

"Why did you cum outside, daddy?" Wony asked, her hand stroking your cock with gentle pumps. "I was waiting for that hot load inside me."

"Because I wanted to see you covered in that outfit," you replied, panting. "And it was totally worth it."

"Mmm, that's understandable," Wony placed wet kisses with her gorgeous lips all over your cock, keeping it hard. "Aren't you craving something?"

"Oh, of course I do."

You moved away from her and took a few steps back, sitting on the single sofa in front of the bed, your back resting on the comfortable cushion and your arms on the wide armrests.

"Come ride me, cowgirl," you said, running your hand down your cock to tease her.

Wony bit her lower lip and looked into your eyes as she stood up.

"Yes, daddy..." she purred, walking toward you.

In front of you and between your legs, she put the hat on and adjusted it around her head, leaving the front brim lower. Then she climbed onto the sofa with you, and after positioning her thighs on either side of your body, she took your cock in one hand and lowered her hips, completely impaling herself on it.

"Mmm," Wony moaned, her ass pressed against your pelvis, her hands resting on your shoulders before sliding them under your jawline. "Would it be too corny if I said yeehaw?"

A chuckle escaped you before you pulled her down to plant kisses on her chin.

"A little," you replied, placing your hands on her ass to move her up and down on your cock. "Just bounce on that cock, baby."

Wony giggled and gently squeezed your neck with her hands before moving her hips up and down on her own, with deep, increasingly frantic movements.

You sank down a little in the seat so you were lower to her and placed your hands on her waist just to admire her. She looked hypnotically fucking hot and gorgeous, one hand on her hat and the other between your pecs; her brow furrowed, twisted with pleasure, and her pretty, full lips parted, letting out increasingly loud moans. You were going nothing but absolutely feral for her.

Wony bounced on your cock like a proper good cowgirl for a few long, delicious seconds, during which you were delighted to be reduced to just a mount for her.

"Fuck daddy your cock feels so good!" Wony squealed, planting her feet on the couch seat and starting to squat on your cock. "I'm gonna fucking cum all over it again!"

You relaxed and let the magic happen on its own. Wony moved her hands up your chest until her fingers creased the collar of your sweater. She started bouncing harder, roughly slamming her ass against you, until she came with a sudden downward thrust.

"Mmmmgh!!" Wony whimpered, straddling you again and grinding against you as her lower body shook.

Your girlfriend slumped down onto you and crashed her lips against yours, the brim of her hat obscuring your view. You wrapped your arms around her and pulled her against you, sharing a sloppy, messy kiss.

"Now looking over there," you murmured against her lips. "I want to see that ass bounce on my cock."

"Mmm," Wony kissed your lips some more. "Anything you say daddy. I'm a good girl, remember?"

Wony climbed off you and stood between your knees. She turned around and made sure her skirt was wrapped tightly around her waist before impaling herself back on your cock. Your hands went straight to her ass, squeezing it as she started bouncing on you again, hands on your knees.

"Bounce hard, baby, bounce hard," you growled, and when she obeyed and sped up, you slapped her ass hard a couple of times. "Good fucking girl."

The hat had done its job for the moment, so you took it off her and threw it to the floor, just so you could grab a handful of her hair and pull it back. Wony screamed in pleasure and dug her nails into your knees, the sound of her ass against your pelvis reverberating through the room. You slapped her ass until it was red hot, and Wony responded with the fastest bounces you could remember from her.

"I'm gonna...! I'm gonna...!" Wony stifled a squeal in her throat and lifted her hips off your cock to squirt all over it, her thighs trembling as if they might explode at any moment.

Your entire lap, especially your cock, was now soaked with her fluids, also wetting the linen seat beneath you. At that moment, you were immensely proud of the fact that you made her discover she could do that a couple of months ago.

"To bed, sweetheart," you said, caressing the two tomatoes she had for buttocks.

Wony, still breathless, went to lie down on her back on the bed, near the bottom edge. You stood up, moved the couch with your knee to the left to make room, and stood in front of her.

"Spread," you ordered, and Wony opened her trembling legs wide, propped up on her elbows. She rubbed her clit gently.

"Aren't you going to keep fucking me, daddy?" She asked, watching your hand move over your cock.

"Not yet," you said. "I want to see if you can make yourself cum better than me."

"That's nonsense, of course you..."

"Do it," you insisted, looking her straight in the eyes.

Wony held your gaze for a moment, and after realizing you were serious, she bit her lower lip and circled her clit a little faster.

"Like this, daddy?" she asked. You nodded. "Can I go faster?"

"You won't do anything I don't tell you to," you said. "And don't take your eyes off me."

"Okay..." Wony moaned softly, her eyes boring into yours. "I love when you order me around, daddy."

"I know, I knew that when you were my maid for a day," you smirked. "You'd go with your pussy soaking wet wherever I sent you."

"It's not my fault you're that fucking hot."

"Thanks," you said flatly. "Now put a finger inside but don't stop rubbing your clit, slut."

"Yes daddy," Wony nodded with a moan.

Your girlfriend continued rubbing her clit with her right hand and used the middle finger of her left hand to push it inside her pussy.

"Pump slowly..." you said, looking at her pussy as she looked at you. "Good girl, now add another finger inside and go faster."

Wony complied with each command, now letting out cute whimpers of pure pleasure. Her middle and ring fingers pumped steadily in and out of her pussy, and the circles with her other hand on her clit were messier.

"Wait a minute, don't stop."

You turned around and looked at the floor, picked up her panties, and got into bed. You went behind her and sat with your knees apart, letting her rest her head in your lap next to your cock. She made a move to bring her mouth closer to kiss it, but you put your hand in the way.

"I didn't tell you you could do that," you said. "Open your mouth."

Wony did, and you shoved her own rolled-up panties inside. She moaned, gagged against them.

"Good girl..." you whispered, running your hands down the sides of her face before slapping her face, making her squeal against her panties. "Another finger. But now go slow."

Your girlfriend added her index finger inside her pussy and reluctantly slowed the pace with both hands, staring at you with teary eyes.

"Rub faster, but keep pumping your fingers slowly..." you murmured in a low, husky voice. "Good girl... now go as fast as you want. But don't you dare cum."

Wony's chest rose and fell violently, her desperate moans muffled against her panties. You had her waiting for a while. For you it was only a couple of minutes, but for her it was perhaps hours and hours of torture, her only way of pleading with you was through her tear-filled eyes. Despite that, she continued to move both of her hands at a frantic pace.

"You want to cum so bad, huh?" you asked, cradling her face with both hands. Wony nodded desperately. "Promise to give me a huge squirt when you do?" Wony nodded again, faster. "Alrigh… then cum."

As soon as you said that, Wony unleashed herself, arching her back as if she were being exorcised before pulling out her fingers and cumming with a primal grunt that she muffled against the panties inside her mouth. The squirt shot violently upward, followed by smaller, less intense streams. It was enough to leave a nice puddle on the floor and also soak the sheets on that side.

You pulled the panties from her mouth as she continued to spasm and wrapped them around the base of your cock. Your reward for her was to grab her hair and force her to take you into her mouth. She moaned and sucked you eagerly, spitting saliva on your shaft and slurping it back.

"So?" Wony asked after pulling out with a pop, licking the underside and side of your shaft. "Conclusions, daddy?"

"That I can still make you cum better," you replied. "You only came that hard because you love me controlling you like a doll."

"Mmm..." Wony placed kisses on your balls, drunk with lust. "You're absolutely right. Are you going to give me that hot load inside now?"

"I can't deny such a good girl something like that."

You carefully moved out from behind her and replaced your lap with a pillow for her head. Then you took off your sweater, knelt between her legs, and spat on her pussy before going back inside.

Wony moaned loudly and welcomed your lips as you slumped forward and kissed her. As you began to pump your hips and return to the intense rhythm you were in, you took hold of your girlfriend's wrists and held them above her head, taking complete control of her and the kiss.

Soon you shifted your kisses to the rest of her face, tracing a contour along her jaw and chin before moving down to her neck, where you sank your teeth more out of carnal instinct than anything else. Wony scratched your back at the feeling and pushed your head down, begging for more. You then bit more areas of her neck, leaving red, spit-soaked marks.

Your girlfriend soon came on your cock. You slowed down for only a moment, until you pulled out of her and made her roll over onto her hands and knees. Wony hugged the pillow beneath her, pressed her chest to the bed, and raised her ass for you to return inside her.

"Are you gonna fill me, daddy?" Wony whimpered, clutching the pillow as you fucked her from behind. "Please fill me... I've been wanting it all damn day since I saw you being so fucking handsome in front of everyone, mmmgh!"

It seemed that memory alone had made enough of a dent in her, because as soon as she said that, she came again. But you kept going, hands on her waist as you slammed your pelvis against your girlfriend's ass. More slaps rained down on her buttocks, making her bury her face in the pillow and scream against it.

Your climax hit you out of nowhere. You were so overwhelmed by her squeals of pleasure, the feel of her pussy clenching around your shaft, the wet sounds, and how hot she looked being railed in that outfit, that you didn't even realize you were about to cum.

One strong thrust forward was enough to send you straight over the edge.

"Mmmgh fuck!!" you groaned, squeezing her buttocks with your fingers as you sent spurt after spurt of hot cum into that silky, tight, wet pussy. "Fucking take it all, bitch."

Wony lifted her head from the pillow and looked at you over her shoulder, biting her lip with her eyebrows raised.

"That's a lot, daddy..." she moaned. "You were really looking forward to it, huh? I melted your brains so much at the show?"

"Better shut up," you gasped, still balls deep inside her. "Next time I'll kiss you for the whole world to see."

"That has to be seen to be believed," Wony smirked and leaned her face into the pillow.

You pulled out of her and let your cum spill through her folds and fall onto the sheets.

Then you got mushy, completely ignoring the fact that you had just called her a bitch.

You placed affectionate kisses on her ass first, then on her lower back, and then you lay down next to her to kiss her shoulder, her back, and meet her lips.

"I love you, you know?" you said, brushing her hair behind her ear.

"I love you too, my sweet boy..." Wony snuggled up to you so you could wrap your arm around her. "I missed you so much..."

You kissed her forehead and closed your eyes, choosing not to say anything else and just enjoy the peaceful silence, caressing your hand all over her back. Wony hugged you, one leg resting on your hip and her head between your neck and shoulder. Both of you glued together by sweat and each other's body heat. The bed was a mess and stained everywhere, but you didn't care.

"Do you want lunch now?" you asked her after a couple of minutes, your voice low so as not to disturb the peace.

"Mhm," Wony nodded, her hand on your chest. She looked quite comfortable; if you hadn't spoken, she probably would have fallen asleep.

"I think we need to clean up first," you sighed, raising your head to see the mess in the room. "I'm not letting room service walk in like that."

"You can just have them stand at the door and get you everything you need."

"Including a fresh set of sheets."

"Including a fresh set of sheets," Wony agreed.

"Okay, get off me then," you patted her on the back, and Wony reluctantly let go. "And take off your boots already, there's dirt on the bed."

Wony obeyed as you stood up and walked naked across the room, looking for the water bottle on one of the shelves to drink from. Then you put on your boxers and went straight to the phone to order both lunch and a fresh set of sheets. You also asked for a mop and something to remove stains, because there was no way you were going to leave the floor covered in squirt stains for some poor devil to clean up later.

"Do you want me to get you something to wear?" you asked, rummaging through your suitcase. You'd already ordered everything from room service.

"No, honey," Wony replied, looking at you from the bed with her face half buried in the pillow. "I'll call someone to get my backpack. What you can do is give me some wet wipes."

"Gotcha."

You hurried to your backpack, pulled out the pack of wet wipes, and took one out. Wony made a move to grab the pack, but you snatched it out of her reach.

"Nuh-uh," you shook your head. "Let me clean you up."

Wony giggled and reached for it again. You placed your fingers on her scalp and pushed her away.

"Babe!" Wony protested, laughing. "You don't have to do that."

"Shut up," you said, starting to clean her legs.

"Okay," Wony resigned herself, staying still for you to clean her.

You straddled her torso and leaned in to kiss the tip of her nose.

"Are you going to take off your makeup?" you asked, holding a wet wipe.

Wony looked into your eyes and nodded, a small smile on her lips. You then carefully began wiping wet wipes all over her face, as gentle as if treating a porcelain doll. Inevitably, you gave her little kisses every few seconds, like a kind of seal after cleaning each area. In the end, only her gorgeous, perfect, bare face remained, and you kissed her multiple times on the lips.

"The least I can get in return is that you let me wash you in the shower later, right?" Wony asked, cupping your face. You were staring at each other closely.

"Bet," you smiled.

Wony rolled her eyes and chuckled.

"I should have made it harder than that."

A couple of knocks on the door made you both turn around. Knowing you were about to stand up, Wony gave you a peck and let you go to the door. After glancing at the door and confirming through the fisheye lens that it was room service, you hurriedly put on some sweatpants and a loose T-shirt before opening it.

"Bonjour," you greeted with a smile. "Oui, waitez un moment là, si vous plaît."

The first thing you brought into the room was the rolling table with the plates of food: cold pasta with truffle oil, fruit, whole wheat bread, and apple juice. Then you picked up the sheet set and went to leave them on the bed. And finally, you grabbed the cleaning supplies they'd brought, cleaned the stains on the floor as quickly as you could, and handed them back.

"Merci pour votre patience," you said to the group of workers who'd come, giving each of them a 500-euro bill. "Bon après-midi."

Room service left, and you closed the door to return to Wony, who had already stood up and was removing the dirty sheets. She stopped to look at you.

"Do you speak French too?" she asked.

"A little," you went to help her.

Wony brought her hand to her mouth and squealed excitedly, crumpling the dirty sheets into a ball before throwing them on the floor.

"My god you're so hot," she said, and you couldn't help but laugh and blush.

"Hurry up, I'm hungry, woman," you said.

Wony and you put on the new set of sheets in a jiffy, leaving the bed spotless.

"Don't even think we're going to eat there," you said quickly. "I'm not going to stain those sheets either."

Another knock on the door prevented Wony from answering. You went to see who it was. On the other side of the door was an Asian woman with a backpack on her back. Her manager.

"Oh, it's for you."

You went back down the hallway and let Wony pick up her backpack. Behind you, you heard her having a small argument with her manager, and you played dumb as you collected the plates from the rolling table and carried them to the left side of the bed, to the floor in front of the glass door that led to the balcony.

A short time later, Wony closed the door and returned to the room. She frowned when she saw you sitting on the floor with your back against the wall and the plates arranged in front of you.

"Why on the floor?" your girlfriend asked, undressing.

"Why not?" you replied, mustering up the willpower not to stare at her tits as she took off her top.

"Well, if you insist," Wony shrugged, and when she put on some short athletic shorts and her pink sweater, she sat down across from you. "Bon appétit, my love." She blew you a kiss.

"Bon appétit, baby," you blew her a kiss back.

Then you started eating, with the evening lights of Paris slowly fading as the sun went down. The silence was present, but it wasn't awkward by any means. It was the kind of silence of two people who were happy and content just to be near each other. You laughed every so often at whatever silly thing you showed each other on your phones, and you also popped pieces of fruit into your mouths.

After a while, Wony stopped eating to search for something on her phone, and soon you heard your voice over the speaker. It was you on stream.

"Ahhh! There's no way you're watching that right in front of me!" you protested through your laughter. The stream was one of your reactions to an album.

"Why not?" Wony laughed, staring at her phone screen. "This shit is fucking nuts, I swear to God," she mimicked you in a mocking tone.

"Oh my god, I'm going to jump off the balcony," you looked down and pushed her with your foot.

Wony laughed even louder and turned off her phone, leaving it face down beside her.

"Okay, I stopped, crybaby," Wony said. "Tell me something then, how did you feel when Sydney Sweeney spoke to you?"

You stared into space and brought a piece of bread to your mouth, remembering the DM she'd sent you just earlier.

"I thought you were going to make it easier for me than that."

"I don't make it easy for anyone, babe."

"I almost had a stroke."

"Almost?" Wony raised her eyebrows. "I saw you in the distance, still like you'd seen the devil himself."

You sighed.

"Because I did. It's like you'd met Ian Somerhalder."

"I'd fall on my ass."

"Exactly."

"And what did she say?"

"She said she really liked the content I made with Prada, and that she admired me for having the courage to be myself while doing it."

"Nothing else?"

"What else do you expect?"

Wony shrugged.

"I don't know. Didn't she ask for your number?"

You burst out laughing. Hell, it was worse than that.

"No, baby. She didn't do it. It doesn't work that way."

"You're handsome enough that she could have done it," she shifted her gaze to the tree in front of your balcony. "I'm just asking."

"Are you jealous?" you asked, amused.

"No," Wony replied flatly.

You laughed and picked up the empty plates to move them to the side. You leaned toward her with your hands flat on the ground and peppered the side of her face with kisses.

"Don't be like that, my sweet princess with attitude," you murmured, softening her until you got a smile out of her. "Are you full or do you want me to order something else to eat?"

"No, honey, I'm already satisfied," she turned her face and gave you a peck on the lips. "I want to take a nap."

"Let's take a nap then."

You picked up the plates and stood up to carry them to the rolling table. Wony went to get into bed, and after you drank some more apple juice, you took your copy of Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment out of your backpack and got into bed with her. You sat on her left side, with your back against the backrest, ready to read for a while.

"Would you mind?" Wony said from your left, and made you raise your elbows so she could lie on your lap, curl up, and close her eyes. You put your hand on her head, and as you read, you ruffled her hair until she fell asleep.

After an hour passed and seeing her so peacefully asleep, you felt like sleeping too, so you placed the book on the nightstand to your right, made her settle in next to you, and hugged her from behind, snuggling her against you, your nose buried in the hair on her neck. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep too.

The aforementioned "nap" turned out to be a solid slumber that lasted until 9:00 p.m.

The room was bathed in a warm, dim light, thanks to the nightlight you assumed she'd recently turned on before continuing to sleep with you. Outside the garden was already dark, illuminated by lamps and the windows of the other rooms. You were the first to wake up, gently caressing Wony's thigh with your fingertips until she woke up too.

"Fuck... what time is it?" she asked sleepily, lifting her head from your arm.

"9:12 p.m.," you replied, after checking the time on your phone.

"I think we went a bit far," Wony yawned.

"A little. Thank goodness we don't have anything to do."

You cradled Wony's face in your hands and gently pulled her in for a soft, slow kiss. Wony straddled you so you could wrap your arms around her, while she caressed your chest. She broke the kiss a long moment later.

"Shall we take that shower?" she asked against your lips, caressing your cheekbones with her thumbs.

"And then dinner?" you asked back.

"Are you hungry so fast?" Wony giggled.

"I'm always hungry after I sleep."

"Okay, let's go then," Wony nodded, and kissed the tip of your nose before standing up.

You stayed in bed for a few minutes, scrolling through your phone. It was full of texts, Rina and Sohyun among them. You ignored it for the time being. Wony called you from the bathroom, and you went with her to find her naked in the shower, her hair tied back in a high bun.

"Come here, baby," she said, turning on the water. "Your girl needs to wash you."

It was kind of pathetic how stupidly fast you undressed and jumped in the shower with her.

When you left the bathroom, Wony stayed behind to do her skincare routine and you went back to get dressed. It was almost 10:30, so you went to order dinner. Room service arrived another half hour later with the dishes, leaving a rolling table and taking the empty one away.

"What did you order, honey?" Wony asked, coming out of the bathroom while combing her hair. She was wrapped in a bathrobe.

You opened the plates one by one.

"Roasted venison loin with celeriac purée and confit shallots, chestnut crémeux with wheat crumble and pear juice."

"Mmm!" Wony clapped her hands in excitement. "Delicious!"

"I'll put everything on the balcony, okay?" you said. "Get dressed or you'll freeze to death out there."

"Yeah!"

You went out onto the balcony and placed the plates and glasses on the small table, turned on the lights in there, and sat down on one of the chairs. Wony came out a short time later, dressed in sweatpants and one of your hoodies.

She may have said she wasn't as hungry as you, but she devoured her food even faster than you could have. A five-minute gap separated the time it took her and yours.

"Was it delicious?" you asked with a hint of sarcasm, sipping on some pear juice.

"Oh gosh, so much," Wony sighed, slumped in her seat with her head hanging off her shoulder.

You both took out your phones and checked them in silence. Then you looked up at the night sky and the quiet garden at that hour of midnight.

Then something occurred to you.

"Honey, do you want to do something crazy?" you asked, breaking the silence.

Wony raised her head and looked at you silently, analyzing you.

"What?"

"Let's go for a walk."

"A walk?" Wony chuckled.

"It's midnight and it's a weekday. At this time there shouldn't be a soul on the street," you pointed out.

"Really?" Wony looked to the side, thinking it over.

"Really," you nodded. "Besides, we can go out well covered since it's cold. Even if there's someone around, no one will know who we are."

Wony thought about it for a while longer.

"I'm in."

"Yes!" you fist-pumped and jumped up from your chair. Wony giggled.

"Do you have a wool hat I could borrow?"

"Yes, yes, whatever you want."

You quickly went inside, Wony following you, and rummaged through your luggage until you found two wool hats. The Philadelphia Eagles one would be for you, and the one with the Umbreon eyes would be for her. You also took out a black face mask that you always carried just in case; Wony had one just like it.

Fifteen minutes later, you were walking down the hotel stairs. You were wearing a black hoodie with the hood pulled over the wool hat, an open puffy North Face jacket over it, black and white plaid pajama pants, and sneakers. Wony was wearing baggy pants, a long puffy jacket, a scarf, and the wool hat you had given her. Both of you were wearing your respective masks.

No one recognized you in the lobby, much less with the clothes you were wearing. You were just another couple holding hands leaving the hotel.

Outside, the cold hit your faces. You checked your phone to see the temperature: 4 freaking degrees.

"Damn, I'm freezing anyway," Wony complained, shoving her free hand into her coat pocket.

"Yeah, well, that usually happens, honey," you said, squeezing her hand with yours, your fingers intertwined. "So, where do you want to go?"

"Huh?" Wony turned to look at you, frowning. "Why are you asking me that?"

"I don't know, don't you have some place in Paris you'd like to see that you haven't already?"

"I don't know," Wony shrugged. "I've already seen the Eiffel Tower."

"Fuck the Eiffel Tower, have you seen the Champs-Élysées?"

"No...?"

"The Louvre?"

"No."

"And the Pont des Arts?"

"The Love Lock Bridge?"

"It's not called that anymore; they removed all the locks because the bridge could literally fall down. But yes."

"No, I haven't been."

"Okay, let's walk."

You and Wony walked away from the hotel along Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré, passing luxury storefronts and closed fashion boutiques. The cold streets were deserted, just as you'd predicted, with the occasional person walking around smoking a cigarette and the occasional car. It was understandable, with the sky so overcast and the temperature so low. You must have been part of the 1% who walked around giggling like idiots.

After the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré, you crossed to Avenue Matignon, and then to the Jardin des Champs-Élysées, where you slowed down to take a good look at everything there, from the Fontaine du Cirque to the Théâtre Marigny. Before leaving, you sat on a bench to rest.

"God, I want some coffee," Wony said, warming her hands with her breath. You were on a straight, wide path, littered with fallen leaves from the trees that lined it on both sides and lit by warm streetlights. "Don't you?"

"It would be fucking great," you nodded, your hands in your jacket pockets. "The thing is everything must be closed at this hour."

"I don't think everything, something must be open," Wony said, looking from side to side. "Do you think it's a bad idea to upload the photos I've been taking?"

"Did you tell your manager about this?" You asked, looking at Maps on your phone since, thankfully, you didn't know Paris like you did some city in Italy.

"Uh... no? She wouldn't have let me."

"Then definitely not. We're on a getaway, babe."

"What are you looking at?" Wony peeked at your phone too.

"The damn road we should take. Do you want us to get lost?"

"Oh shit, we're too far."

"We'll get an Uber back, baby."

"It's still a walk there," Wony scrolled through the app to the Pont des Arts. You were about half an hour away. "Sheesh."

"Time will go by fast," you stood up. "Come on, put those gorgeous legs to work, sweetie."

"Legs that still hurt because someone made me cum eight times a few hours ago?" Wony stood up from the bench and took your hand, interlacing your fingers.

You shrugged.

"Someone was asking for it."

When you left the Champs-Élysées the next stop was the Tuileries Garden, but it was closed, so you had to go around it on the eastern side. From there, you crossed the Pont Royal, and on the other side of the Seine, miraculously, you found a Carrefour Express open where you could buy hot coffee, which you carried the rest of the way.

Five minutes later, you arrived at your destination. The Pont des Arts looked strange without the thousands of padlocks on the railings, but that was more out of habit, because the reality was that it just looked cleaner and prettier, with the well-maintained wooden planks and the parapets where the padlocks used to be, painted with various colorful motifs.

As expected on a winter day like that at 2 in the morning, there was not a soul there. The only things that accompanied you were the dull light from the small white streetlights, the light from the Institut de France on the other side of the bridge, and the biting cold. Only the occasional policeman passed by from time to time.

You and Wony approached the parapet on your left to admire the tranquil river and the Pont Neuf in the distance, sipping the coffee left in your cups. After a few seconds, Wony snuggled up to you, and you slipped an arm around her back to hold her waist.

"You don't know how much I love this, baby..." Wony murmured, snuggling against you. "It's so beautiful. Thanks for bringing me here."

"Was it worth the walk?" you asked, half smiling.

Wony chuckled.

"Definitely."

"I love being here with you without anyone knowing. Literally no one. Your poor manager must be sleeping like a baby thinking you're with me in my room."

Wony just giggled and didn't respond immediately, staring at the reflections of the streetlights in the slow-moving river.

"Honey, can I tell you something?" Wony asked after a couple of minutes.

"Hm?" You looked away from the horizon and looked at her. "Sure, what?"

"Well..." Wony looked down to check her nails, something she did when she was anxious or nervous. "No, nothing, it's just something silly," she shook her head.

"Baby," you turned to her. "Tell me. If it came to your mind and you wanted to say it, it's not something silly."

Wony shook her head, still not looking at you.

"I don't want to ruin the moment, I really don't."

You crossed your arms and stared at her.

"It won't ruin it."

Wony took a deep breath and dropped her arms before looking straight ahead. Her gaze wandered between all the possible spots in the landscape.

"It's just... this makes me nervous," she finally said after a while.

"This?"

"I mean, not this," Wony gestured with her hand between the two of you. "But how good this is all making me feel."

You frowned and tilted your head, unable to understand where she was going with this. You didn't want to worry, but your stomach churned.

"And why is that a bad thing?"

"I didn't say it was bad. I said it makes me nervous," Wony paused before looking back down at her hands clasped around her belly. "I'm getting used to... you know, having you, talking to you all day, waiting for your texts, being the happiest person in the world with you." She bit her lower lip. "And... I don't know, I'm scared of how fulfilled I'm feeling. Making so many… beautiful memories with you. Because if one day you're not here..."

Wony's voice cracked, and her eyes quickly filled with tears. She brought her knuckles to her lips to hold them back. You just looked at her, somewhere between dismayed and deeply moved, with a lump in your throat that you managed to keep there.

"Honey..." you began quietly.

"It happened to me before, okay?" Wony said in a small voice, and no matter how hard she tried to hold back her tears, two rolled down her cheeks. "Not like this, but similar. Everything seemed so right... so perfect... he kept telling me how much he loved me and how much he liked me... and then he left me. He left me, that was it. He got bored of me."

You swallowed thickly and took a deep breath, still holding back the urge to cry so you could be strong enough for her. Damn that bastard.

"And I didn't even love him as much as I love you," she continued, wiping another tear with her sleeve. "That's exactly why it terrifies me. I don't want to go through that again. I couldn't bear it if you ever got tired of me and left me like he did. I…"

"Baby," you interrupted, taking one of her hands and squeezing it in yours, then bringing it to your lips to kiss her knuckles. "Look at me."

Wony looked at you, her eyes brimming with tears and a pout. Fuck, she really couldn't have looked that pretty crying.

"I understand the way you feel, but I can't promise you I won't fail. No one can," you cradled her face. "Fate takes many turns, and we often have no control over it. What I can promise you is that everything I feel for you is real, very real. And no one has ever, and I repeat, never, made me feel the way you do."

You wiped the tears that continued to flow down her soft cheeks with your thumbs and placed a small kiss on her forehead. She swallowed, trying to hold your gaze.

"All the pretty things I've ever said or done for you came from my heart, cause the love you've made me feel for you in such a short time is the most real, beautiful, and precious thing I have. So, the thought of whether we'll ever stop being together or not is irrelevant. The only thing that matters is that right now, you are the most beautiful thing life has ever given me, and I intend to make you feel that way for as long as life allows us. Is that clear?"

Wony's lip trembled before she leaned in to hug you and burst into tears, hiding her face in your neck. You just held her in your arms, choosing not to say anything else and letting her let it out.

"I love you soooo much," Wony said between sobs, clinging to you as if she wanted to prevent you from running away. "I love you, I love you, I love you. Thank you for coming into my life. Thank you for everything."

You waited for a minute to pass to respond, meditating on how you could propose to her as soon as possible without looking desperate.

"Well, actually you should thank Yujinie for that," you said with a quiet giggle. "It's thanks to her that we ended up sharing a room in Tokyo."

Wony couldn't help but laugh through her tears. Then she pulled away from you slightly to wipe her eyes with her sleeves, grabbing your face and crashing her lips against yours. You kissed, arms around each other, your mind completely lost in time, focused solely on showing how much affection you had for each other with that kiss.

What burst your bubble was the sound of slow jazz music in the distance, perfectly timed to make it seem like a movie. Wony and you laughed against each other's lips. You didn't know where the hell it was coming from; all you could see in the distance was a boat docking near the Saule Pleureur de la Pointe.

"Did he see us and play that music on purpose?" Wony asked, looking toward the boat.

"It's a possibility," you replied, smiling.

You paused for a moment, just enjoying the music, despite how distant and muffled it sounded. Some police officer must have told him to shut up, because soon after, you two returned to the same silence as before.

"Honey..." Wony looked at you. "I'm sorry for bringing that up. I just really needed to get it off my chest, and it's not something I've ever talked to anyone about."

"Not even with the girls?"

"I didn't want to worry them with it. They have enough to worry about with our schedules."

"I understand," you nodded. "But you don't have to apologize. I appreciate you feeling comfortable and safe enough with me to share it, honey."

Wony leaned in close to peck you on the lips.

"You know we have to get up really early later, right?" Wony asked. "It's going to be 2:30."

"What time does your flight leave?"

"Uh... 10 o'clock."

"We can get up at 7."

"Exactly, very early," Wony sighed. "But it's all for the sake of spending more time with you."

"Shall we go now?"

"Yes, please, my legs are killing me."

You took out your phone and ordered an Uber, which arrived in about ten minutes since the driver was a bit far away. Wony fell asleep on the way, her head on your shoulder and cuddled up with you. You had to wake her up five minutes before arriving at Le Bristol.

Climbing the stairs was like a fucking torture for her, as she was burdened by the double suffering of her aching legs and the accumulated sleep. You weren't much more energetic, but you still carried her up the last few steps until you reached your bedroom.

Inside, she hurriedly undressed until she was down to her underwear and hoodie, and after closing the glass door and turning off the light, you followed her in sweatpants and shirtless. You covered yourselves with the warm, puffy blankets and quickly hugged Wony, snuggling up against her chest so she could hug you with her arms and legs.

"I really liked it today, honey," Wony murmured after a while. She sounded more asleep than awake. In fact, she let out a long yawn right after. "You're everything I ever wanted in a boy... thank you."

You lifted your face from her neck to answer, but she had already fallen asleep, as quickly as usual. You had no choice but to stare at her face, hopelessly in love, until your eyes felt heavy too.

Ten minutes later, you were both snuggled up and comfortably asleep.

It was a good thing you'd been used to getting up so early for a few days now, because if it had happened months ago, you probably would have wished you'd died the moment you opened your eyes and saw the sunlight filtering through the white curtains in your room.

You woke up first, with half of Wony's body on top of yours, her face nestled between your neck and chest, one leg draped over yours, and her breathing calm. You stayed still, not out of discomfort, but because you didn't want to disturb her apparent deep comfort.

Wony stirred slightly when you brushed a strand of hair from her cheek and gently tucked it behind her ear. She stretched her legs out under the covers soon after.

"Is it daylight yet?" she asked softly, her eyes still closed.

"Uh-huh," you nodded, placing small kisses all over her face.

"Mmm... I don't want to move." Wony hugged you tighter and moved her thigh up to your abdomen. You placed your hand on top and rubbed it up and down.

"I'll take care of waking you up, don't worry."

You slowly slid your hand down her thigh to her bare ass, slipping your hand under her panties so you could squeeze more of her buttock. Wony let out a deep breath and caressed your collarbone with her fingers. Then you began placing slow, wet kisses on her neck, until seconds later you slid a couple of fingers between her buttocks and reached her pussy.

"Baby..." Wony gasped as you slowly rubbed her clit. "Mmmm."

Wony lowered her hand from your chest and slid it down your abdomen, slipping it inside your sweatpants and boxers. There, she found your cock already hard, and she wrapped her fingers around it, slowly stroking it. Eventually, she opened her eyes and sought out your lips for a kiss.

At that moment you didn't feel the urgency or the deep, horny desire you had yesterday, so the kiss, like every small movement and caress, was slow, gentle, and careful. Wony soon pulled your cock out to stroke it with slow pumps, and it didn't take much longer for you to slide her panties off her legs so you could comfortably touch her pussy.

Moans began a few seconds later, low and prolonged, each against the other's lips as you kissed in a mixture of deep lust and delicate touch. You took off your sweatpants and boxers, and Wony removed her hoodie. Both of you were now completely naked under the sheets.

The rubbing and groping intensified as you turned to face her and wrapped both arms around her. Wony caressed your chest with her hand and your cock with the top of one of her thighs, and you ran your hands down her back to feel her soft skin beneath your fingertips.

The tip of your hard cock occasionally brushed against her wet pussy, and when you couldn't hold it in any longer, you spat into your hand, brought it to your shaft to lubricate it, and held her thigh over your torso to slowly guide it inside her.

Wony moaned against your lips and placed her hands on your breast as you began to fuck her with slow, deep movements, her pussy wrapping around you like a sleeve custom-designed for you. You placed a hand on her ass and squeezed it as you did so, placing kisses on her chin and moving down to her neck.

As you increased your speed a little, you were forced to remove the blanket from over your bodies, revealing your girlfriend's perfect, long, fleshy body. Her tits, bigger since she'd gained some weight over the past few months, looked too delicious for you not to taste, so you arched down and took one into your mouth.

"Oh fuck..." Wony moaned softly seconds later, when you'd already spit on one of her tits and were licking her nipple. "Let me suck your cock, baby."

You pulled out of her and lay on your back. Wony quickly straddled you, her calves trapping your arms underneath and her ass hovering just inches from your face. She slumped forward, and as she took you into her mouth, you darted your tongue out and began sucking on it.

Wony moaned around your cock, pumping its head with deep, swirling motions. She didn't skimp on her saliva, deliberately spitting it out and sucking it back in because she knew it drove you crazy. But you also pulled out your own tricks, sucking on her clit and licking it in circles for her.

You stayed like that for maybe two or three minutes, your arms wrapped around her torso and your hands squeezing her ass, and Wony caressing your thigh as she sucked you off without using her hands to help herself. It was Wony who decided to put the brakes on, only to turn around, adjust her thighs to the sides of your body, and impale herself on your cock.

As soon as her ass was resting against your pelvis, Wony dropped down to cup your face and kiss you, covering your face with her silky brown hair. She began to slowly move her hips up and down, taking every inch of your cock in and out with exquisite fluidity and awareness of her own movements.

"For God's sake..." you gasped. "I want to put a baby inside you so bad."

Wony moaned and gently bit your lower lip, moving her hips a little faster without being too rough.

"You can try, darling," she murmured back.

You pulled her off of you and made her turn her back to you, so you could press your chest and back together before returning inside her. Wony held onto your forearms as you wrapped your arms around her, one under her head and the other across her torso to cup her tits. You were as close as two people could get to each other, you were sure of that; you could feel every corner of her skin against yours, every delicious little part.

As the seconds passed, you used one hand to play with her tits and the other to her waist to pump harder and deeper, feeling very close to your climax. Wony moaned against your lips, louder and louder, her breathing increasingly labored. She was close too, but just to be sure, you slipped a hand between her legs to rub her pussy in the final moments.

"Are you going to leave a big seed inside my womb, baby?" Wony asked, cupping your face with one hand and looking into your eyes. You just nodded. "Yeah? Come on, then do it, my sweet boy... cum, cum."

With a sudden thrust deep inside her pussy, you exploded, and when Wony felt your cock throb and release hot cum inside her she reached her orgasm as well, intense and electrifying. You kissed and moaned against each other's lips, sharing small spasms until you left every drop inside her pussy and she stopped trembling.

Wony broke away from the kiss and stared into your eyes.

"Do you really want us to have a baby?" she asked softly.

"I love the idea of making you a mom," you replied, still balls deep inside her. "But I know it's not time."

"No, it isn't," Wony gently shook her head and peppered your face with gentle kisses. "But I don't mind the idea of carrying your baby either... who knows what might happen in the future?"

You giggled and kissed her again for a minute until you came out of her. Hardly a drop of semen escaped.

"Do you want to order breakfast?" you asked, placing kisses on her shoulders.

"Yes, but then I have to go, baby," Wony pouted.

"I know, I know, don't remind me," you sighed, and turned away from her to get dressed and go to the bathroom to wash your face.

After leaving the bathroom and brushing your teeth, Wony did the same while you ordered breakfast. About fifteen minutes later, you were already eating, and an hour later, Wony was already dressed, ready to meet her manager.

"How much longer will you be here in Europe?" Wony asked, hands on your shoulders.

"I'll be back in Milan tomorrow, and then I'll be there for another week," you replied, holding her waist as you placed pecks on her lips. "You'll be in Korea by the time I get back, right?"

"Mjum," Wony nodded, kissing you back. "Be a good boy, okay? Remember to eat, text me always, keep me updated, and don't stop loving me."

"I never could, and you know it." You smiled, and wrapped your arms around her waist and pulled her into one last tight hug. "I love you, princess. Have a safe flight."

"I love you too, my sweet boy." Wony cupped your face and planted a few kisses on your lips before pulling away. "See you soon."

You opened the door for your girlfriend, and after a shared smile as she passed through the frame, she turned and started walking down the hall.

You followed her with your eyes until she took the stairs and disappeared from your sight.

Then you went back to bed and curled up under the covers, to let the post-seeing-your-girlfriend blues consume you.

945 notes · View notes

sassybeacondesolation · 3 days ago

Note

Please do Seohyun for the lips series. As plot, I think it'd be hot if she is a pornstar filming a blowbang with 10 guys.

Thanks!

Lips #14

(Seohyun) Wordcount: 1103 words

Seohyun kneels in the center of the set, perfectly centered for the cameras. Her long black hair spills over her shoulders, framing her delicate face and full lips. She wears nothing but a black lace bra and matching panties. The only accessory she has is a collar that says “Slut”. Her chest rises and falls with quick, excited breaths as the producer gives the signal.

Around her stand ten men, all their cocks already thick and hard. She feels small and exposed, encircled like that, every set of eyes fixed on her, every length within reach. But that’s exactly why Seohyun agreed to this shoot. She likes that feeling.

She now looks up at them, lips slightly parting in anticipation. She gives them a seductive and inviting smile. Then, her hand wraps around the nearest shaft. It’s warm and heavy in her palm, and she leans forward to take it between her lips. Her tongue circles lazily at first, tasting the salt of pre cum, feeling him twitch against her mouth. Before he’s even fully down her throat, her other hand finds the next man. She strokes him in long, smooth pulls. Seohyun keeps her rhythm steady. Her mouth and hand work in sync. Until she feels another body step closer. She glances up just in time to see his shadow fall over her face before she parts her lips and lets him slide in beside the first.Two men. Her throat stretches, her jaw aches. But she only pushes further. The wet sounds echo off the walls. The rest of the circle closes in.

Seohyun switches seamlessly, one in her mouth, one in her hand, swapping so no one is left waiting too long. Her lipstick is gone within minutes, smeared across her chin, mixed with saliva that glistens under the studio lights. She looks up often, meeting their gazes, eyes wide and glossy, making each of them feel like the only one she’s pleasing. She even manages to look into the nearest camera here and there, switching between innocent puppy dog eyes and seductive gazes.

Hands find her hair in a tight grip. One man starts thrusting into her mouth harder, using her throat like it’s his. She gags softly but doesn’t attempt to stop him. The sound only makes the others groan. She can taste the faint musk of sweat as another man presses the head of his cock to her cheek while she works the one in her mouth.

They keep her busy. Three, sometimes four cocks in her hands at once, two men trading places between her lips. Seohyun’s lips are slick now, her wrists move constantly, her jaw stretches again and again. Her moans are muffled, but they vibrate through every cockshe takes. She feels them throb under her touch, hears their breathing get heavier. Her bra straps slip from her shoulders, exposing more of her pale skin for them to see. A rough hand slides under to squeeze her breast while she keeps stroking two more cocks.

“Fuck, she’s greedy.”

Seohyun just hums around the length in her mouth in agreement.

The pace builds. One man grabs her head with both hands, fucking into her face so fast her eyes water. She tries to stroke the others at the same time, but his thrusts are relentless. They force her to focus on him until he pulls out, leaving her gasping. The break is short. Another cock fills her mouth immediately, and she takes it without having to think twice. Her eyes find the camera once again as Seohyun gets her throat fucked.

They start using her in shifts. Two men feed her their lengths while others pump their fists over her slick, flushed skin, ready to mark her face. She loses herself in it. The overwhelming heat. The taste. The smell of all of them around her.

Seohyun’s hair is a mess now, strands sticking to her cheeks from the spit and pre cum coating her skin. Her mascara runs in dark streaks, but her eyes are bright, locked onto the men towering above her. She’s panting through her wet lips, stroking two cocks at once while another pushes into her mouth so deep her nose presses against his stomach. She moans around him, the vibration making his thighs tense. When he pulls out, he’s dripping, and her tongue follows him like she doesn’t want to let go.

Seohyun can feel how they’re all getting closer. They aren’t just tightening their circle around her, but also begin to reach their orgasms. Their cocks pulsate and twitch inside her mouth and hands. She knows it’s only a matter of time. She winks into the camera, aware that she’s going to get her face painted by ten men in a matter of moments.

One man grits his teeth and suddenly unloads across her cheek. Hot and thick.. Seohyun gasps, but before she can react, another groans and paints her jaw and lips. She’s still working two more in her hands when a third bursts across her forehead. The cum slips down toward her eyebrow. They don’t stop. Her hands keep pumping, her mouth opening wide for the next. Warm ropes hit her chin, her nose, her hairline. Each one makes her flinch just slightly, but she doesn’t break her rhythm. Her hands stroke faster, milking every last drop from them.

“Look at her face…”

One of them groans, right before he joins the others, streaking her cheek and lips again.

The final two are already close. Seohyun alternates her mouth between them, sucking hard, stroking the other with quick, wet pulls until they both groan loudly. One coats her lips so thick she has to lick them just to breathe. The last finishes with a sharp grunt, aiming for her open mouth but splattering across her nose and cheeks. Even her choker got hit in the end. Drops of cum stain the black leather.

By the time they’re done, Seohyun is drenched. Her face glistens under the studio lights, every inch marked. Strands of hair stick to her wet skin, and she slowly licks a bit from the corner of her mouth, swallowing before giving them a dazed, satisfied smile.Then she turns back to the camera. Another wink, followed by making a show out of tasting their cum. She finishes the video by starting to clean the cocks around her.

“Cut!”

Seohyun continues to lick their dicks as if she didn’t hear the producer’s shout.

“What do you guys think about working longer today?”

Her mischievous grin is covered in cum and her voice is slightly hoarse.

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sassybeacondesolation · 3 days ago

Note

hiii! i have not read anything yett saddly but i will!, do you think you could do a katseye one ?

THE AFTER PARTY

KATSEYE Sophia & Megan x Male Reader

AN: Hopefully this could answer some of the katseye requests! I will still make some more of these so don't worry!🙏🫶🏻

The hotel suite was still warm with the leftover scent of alcohol and perfume. The faint hum of music from downstairs was fading, replaced by the clink of bottles as I started gathering the empty ones off the low table.

Katseye’s after-party had been loud, messy, and loud enough to make the neighbors complain twice. But now, the rest of the members had stumbled back to the dorms, laughing and leaning on each other.

Everyone except Sophia and Megan.

They were still here.

I spotted them on the couch, both sunk into the cushions, heels kicked off, their legs draped lazily over each other. There was an open bottle of soju between them, and Megan was giggling at something Sophia whispered in her ear.

I sighed, loosening my tie just a little as I stepped closer.

"You two should probably head back. You’ve got call time in—" I checked my watch. "—less than eight hours."

Sophia tilted her head toward me, a slow smirk tugging at her lips. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes glassy but sharp in a way that made my stomach tighten.

"You always sound so serious," she said, voice low. "Can’t you just… relax for once, manager?"

"I’m relaxed," I said flatly, picking up the soju bottle. "And you’re drunk. Both of you."

Megan snorted. "Guilty." She took the bottle from my hand before I could move it away, her fingers brushing mine deliberately. "But we’re celebrating. We deserve it, right?"

"Yes, but—"

I didn’t get to finish. Sophia stood, swaying slightly on her feet, and crossed the small space between us. One hand went straight to my tie, fingers curling around it before I could step back. She tugged—hard enough to make me stumble toward the couch.

"Sit."

It wasn’t loud, but it was sharp. Commanding.

I frowned. "Sophia—"

"Sit," she repeated, this time with a smile that felt like trouble.

Before I could argue, Megan’s hands were suddenly on my shoulders, guiding—no, pushing—me down into the sofa. The two of them flanked me immediately, the scent of their perfume and alcohol surrounding me.

"This isn’t a good idea," I said, my voice tight. "You’re drunk, I’m your manager, and—"

"You take such good care of us," Sophia interrupted, running her hand slowly down my chest. Her nails scraped lightly through my shirt, and I felt every single movement. "Always making sure we’re on time, looking perfect, safe. Don’t you think we should… thank you?"

Megan’s hand slid up my thigh, just high enough to make me tense. "Properly thank you," she added, her lips curling in a lazy smile.

My pulse spiked. I swallowed hard. "You need to rest. This isn’t—"

Sophia leaned in so close her breath was warm against my ear. "Shh. Just let us take care of you for once."

The words hit deeper than they should’ve. I opened my mouth to argue again, but Megan’s fingers had already begun undoing the first button of my shirt.

"Stop," I said, but my voice lacked bite. My hands hovered awkwardly at my sides.

Sophia noticed. She smirked. "If you really wanted us to stop, you’d push us away." Her fingers found the second button, working it loose without looking away from my eyes.

Megan’s hand slid under the hem of my shirt, palm warm against my skin. "He’s not stopping us," she said softly, almost teasing.

I drew in a sharp breath as Sophia’s hand moved lower, brushing over my belt. The tension in the air was thick now, slow and deliberate, every second stretching.

"You’re always in control, manager," Sophia murmured. "Tonight, you’re ours."

Her lips brushed my jaw, not quite a kiss—more like a promise.

Sophia’s fingers made quick work of my belt, the metallic click loud in the quiet room. My shirt was already halfway open thanks to Megan, her hands roaming over my chest like she was mapping me out.

"You’re so tense," Megan whispered, her nails grazing just enough to make me flinch. "Is it because you’re nervous? Or… because you like this?"

"I didn’t say I—" I started, but Sophia’s laugh cut me off.

"You didn’t have to." She tugged my belt free and let it drop to the floor with a thud. "Your body says enough."

Her palm pressed against the front of my pants, slow and deliberate. My breath caught despite myself.

"See?" she murmured, eyes locking with mine. "Hard already. I haven’t even started."

Megan shifted closer on my other side, her thigh pressing against mine. "Sophia, he’s blushing."

"Good," Sophia said, her voice low and rich. "I like it when he blushes. Makes him look even more… fuckable."

Her hand slipped inside, fingers wrapping around me through my briefs. I exhaled sharply.

"Mm," she hummed, stroking lazily. "You like it when I have my hands on you, don’t you?"

I clenched my jaw. "Sophia—"

"Say it." She tightened her grip just slightly, enough to make me twitch. "Say you like it."

My throat felt dry. "…I like it."

Megan’s breath hit my ear as she whispered, "Good boy." Her fingers brushed over my stomach, featherlight, before slipping lower to join Sophia’s.

"Shit—" I hissed when they both began stroking in slow, alternating motions, their touches different but perfectly timed.

Sophia leaned in, lips grazing my ear. "You’ve been so professional all this time… makes me wonder if you’ve been imagining this during those long meetings."

Megan giggled softly, nuzzling against my shoulder. "I bet he has."

"Tell us," Sophia pressed, her voice now a velvet command. "Do you think about us? When you’re alone?"

My heart hammered in my chest. I didn’t answer fast enough, and Sophia’s hand slowed, teasing at the head. "Answer me, manager."

"…Yes," I breathed, my voice almost breaking.

Her smirk widened. "That’s what I thought."

Sophia’s hand was hot around me, stroking in slow, purposeful movements that made my breath hitch with every pass. Megan’s palm cupped me from below, her fingers brushing Sophia’s every so often, the combination enough to make me dizzy.

"Mm, he’s throbbing already," Sophia said, watching my face like she was studying every twitch. "You’ve been holding back for months, haven’t you?"

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself not to groan. "I… I’ve been professional."

She smirked. "Professional? You’re leaking in my hand, baby. That’s not very professional, is it?"

Megan giggled, her nails tracing lazy circles over my thigh. "I think he’s been waiting for this. Poor thing."

Sophia slid down onto her knees between my legs without warning, tugging at my pants until they were bunched around my ankles. My cock sprang free, flushed and aching.

"God," she breathed, eyes glinting. "I knew you’d be big." Her fingers wrapped around me again, stroking once, twice, so slow I could feel the heat building at the base of my spine.

"You like it when I look at you like this?" she asked, her voice husky. "When I have my hands on you?"

My mouth was dry. "…Yes."

"Say it louder." She squeezed just enough to make me gasp.

"I like it when you have your hands on me."

"Good boy," she purred, leaning in to drag her tongue along the underside of my length, slow from base to tip. I shuddered, my hands gripping the couch.

Megan stayed beside me, her lips brushing my ear. "Don’t hold back. I wanna hear how much you like it."

Sophia’s lips closed around the head, sucking gently as her hand worked the rest of me. "Mm… fuck, you taste good," she murmured against me before sinking lower, her throat taking me inch by inch until her nose brushed my stomach.

"Shit—Sophia…" I groaned, my hips twitching.

She pulled back slowly, saliva trailing between her lips and my cock. "That’s it… let me make a mess of you."

For the next few minutes, she alternated between deep, slow sucks and wet, teasing licks around the tip, every sound amplified in the quiet room. Megan’s hand slid under my open shirt, nails scraping lightly over my chest.

"Don’t cum yet," Sophia said suddenly, pulling back with a smirk. "I’m not done with you."

Before I could catch my breath, she climbed onto my lap, straddling me, her skirt riding up to reveal the dark lace of her panties. She pressed herself against me, the heat radiating through the thin fabric.

"You feel that?" she whispered against my lips. "That’s all for you."

Her hand guided me, pushing her panties aside before sinking down onto me in one slow, unbroken motion. My head fell back as she took me fully, her walls gripping tight.

"Fuck—"

"Look at me," she commanded. My eyes snapped to hers. "I want to see your face when I ride you."

She moved slowly at first, rolling her hips with deliberate control, her nails digging into my shoulders. "You’ve been watching us from the sidelines all this time… bet you never thought we’d fuck you like this, huh?"

Megan’s hand slid down between us, her fingers brushing my length each time Sophia lifted her hips. "You look so good like this," Megan breathed. "Completely at her mercy."

Sophia’s pace quickened, her voice dropping to a growl. "I’m gonna fuck you until you forget your own name."

Every thrust drove me deeper, the sound of her wetness mixing with our breathing. My hands gripped her hips despite myself, pulling her down harder.

"Yeah… that’s it," she moaned. "Take me. Just like that."

When my release started building, she felt it instantly. "Don’t you dare cum yet," she warned, slowing just enough to keep me on the edge. Then she slid off me entirely, leaving me throbbing and desperate.

Megan was already moving to take her place, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "My turn."

She straddled me, her pace gentler at first, almost comforting compared to Sophia’s relentless rhythm. Her voice was softer, more intimate. "You’ve been so good… letting us use you like this."

Sophia knelt beside us, her hand wrapping around the base of my cock as Megan lowered herself onto me, helping guide every inch inside. "Ride him slow at first," Sophia instructed, her eyes locked on mine. "Make him beg for it."

Megan obeyed, rolling her hips in a slow, almost torturous rhythm. Her moans were breathy, drawn out, each one making my restraint crumble.

"You like being passed between us?" Sophia asked, her fingers stroking the part of me Megan didn’t take with each bounce.

I groaned. "…Yes."

"Say it louder."

"Yes—fuck, yes."

Megan’s pace picked up, her hands on my chest for balance. "Cum for me," she whispered. "Fill me up."

Sophia’s hand moved faster in time with Megan’s thrusts. "That’s it—give it to her. Let go."

I couldn’t hold it anymore. Megan’s pace quickened, her walls tightening around me until I was right on the edge. My grip on her hips tightened as the first hot pulse spilled deep inside her, and she gasped, shuddering with her own climax.

But then, in the middle of my release, she suddenly lifted herself off me, my cock still twitching and wet. Her hand wrapped around the base, squeezing just enough to keep the rest from spilling too soon.

"Not done yet," she panted, turning toward Sophia with a wicked smile. She angled me toward her, the tip hovering just inches from Sophia’s flushed face.

Sophia’s eyes locked on mine, lips parted, her voice thick with hunger. "Give me all your cum. I want all of it."

That broke the last of my restraint — Megan stroked me fast, milking every drop as I erupted across Sophia’s cheek, her lips, her tongue as she leaned forward to take it. She moaned low, letting it drip down her chin, licking what she could catch.

"Fuck," Sophia breathed, closing her eyes as another thick rope painted her face. "Just like that… all of it."

Megan didn’t stop until the last pulse left me shaking, Sophia’s skin glistening in the low light, her smirk satisfied and dripping.

Sophia ran her fingers slowly through the mess on her face, collecting it until her fingertips were slick. Her tongue darted out, licking it up with a satisfied hum.

"Mmm… warm," she murmured, her eyes never leaving mine. Then she held her fingers out toward me. "Taste yourself."

I hesitated for half a second, breath still ragged from the release, but her tone made it clear it wasn’t a request.

"Go on, manager," she said with a smirk. "Be a good boy."

Megan’s hand slid over my chest, nails dragging lightly as she leaned close to my ear. "Do what she says. You don’t want to disappoint us, do you?"

I opened my mouth, letting Sophia press her fingers past my lips. The taste was musky, intimate, and the way she watched me swallow made heat rush through me all over again.

"That’s it," Sophia whispered, pulling her fingers free with a slow drag across my tongue. "Good boy."

Megan giggled softly, her lips brushing my neck. "I think he’s already ready for another round."

Sophia’s smirk widened as she glanced down at me, still half-hard despite everything. "Oh, we’re not done with him yet."

Before I could even catch my breath, she grabbed me at the base and sank down in one swift motion. My head snapped back, a sharp groan tearing from my throat as the overstimulation hit me hard.

"F–fuck, Sophia—"

Her nails dug into my shoulders. "No, no… you’re not done yet. You’re gonna cum for me again, right now."

The heat of her was overwhelming, still wet from her own arousal mixing with the cum that had been inside Megan moments ago. She rolled her hips in slow, grinding circles at first, deliberately pressing against every sensitive inch of me.

"God, you feel even harder than before," she breathed, her voice almost a growl. "Does it feel good? Having me take you right after you’ve already emptied yourself?"

Megan knelt beside us, her fingers tracing over my stomach before sliding down to where Sophia was riding me. She spread Sophia’s folds with two fingers so I could see the way I disappeared inside her, my cum from earlier glistening around the base.

"Look at that," Megan said with a grin. "You’re fucking her with the same cock you just filled me with."

I let out a strained moan, my hands gripping Sophia’s hips. She swatted at them lightly. "No, I’m in charge. You just sit there and let me take what I want."

Her pace quickened, hips slamming down with a wet slap each time. My sensitivity made every thrust feel electric, my legs tensing beneath her.

"You like it, don’t you?" she panted, leaning close until her lips brushed my ear. "You like being used by us… even when you’re too sensitive to take it."

Megan’s hand slipped lower, her thumb rubbing at Sophia’s clit as she rode me harder. Sophia’s head fell back, a low moan leaving her lips before she looked down at me again.

"Cum for me," she demanded. "I want you to fill me until it drips out."

Her pace became frantic, grinding down against me until my control shattered. I came hard inside her, the sensation overwhelming as she moaned, clenching tight around me through her own orgasm.

Megan giggled softly, rubbing Sophia’s thigh. "Messy girl… you got him twice."

Sophia stayed on me for a moment, catching her breath, before finally lifting herself off, the mix of both our releases spilling down her inner thighs. She looked at me with that same dangerous smirk.

"Now you really belong to us."

The two of them gathered their clothes, still laughing quietly to each other, while I sat there in the dim light of the empty suite — my shirt open, my tie loose, and my head spinning.

As they walked toward the door, Sophia glanced back one last time, her smirk carved into my memory.

"Sleep well, manager," she said. "You’re gonna need it."

The door closed behind them, leaving the room silent but still thick with the scent of sweat, sex, and the dangerous promise of next time.

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sassybeacondesolation · 4 days ago

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sassybeacondesolation · 4 days ago

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Ere

TWICE Mina x M Reader Fan Fiction, Smut, Angst A/N: So I was on an OPM trip when I thought of this story. Loosely based on Juan Karlos' Ere. Hope you guys enjoy the fic!

The cold air hits your skin, making it even easier for you to stay awake on this late Friday evening. As if your crowded thoughts weren’t enough to stop you from getting any rest. The city lights from outside that break through the hotel curtains outline the slender figure of the woman on your bed. You reach out to trace her frame with your fingers, but you hesitate. You were scared to wake her up, or to find out that she also wasn’t sleeping. Either way, you continue to lie down there, staring at the back of her head. You dread the idea of tomorrow morning. You dread waking up tomorrow with the uncertainty of her still being there beside you. You dread for the future of you both knowing what you do now.

-earlier that night-

“Mina, I don’t understand.” You manage to get out while looking at the engagement ring on the table. “You already said yes. We’ve already started planning. Why are you suddenly backing out?” You try to control it, but the subtle anger in your voice rises above the confusion and pain.

“I told you. It wasn’t my decision.” Mina replied. She was staring out of your hotel room window, desperately trying to avoid making eye contact. She still looked stunning, the city lights bouncing off of her face. Every intricate detail is highlighted. Her dress glowed in the dimness of the living room. She’s perfect, like she always is. It almost made you forget that she was calling off your engagement.

“You could have said no? That an arranged marriage in this day and age is a stupid idea? That you’re already in love with someone else?” You argue back.

“And let my dad go to jail?” Mina turns to you with tears running from her eyes. “You think I wanted to call it off? That I wanted to get set up with some snotty, multimillion dollar company nepo baby that probably never had to lift a finger in his whole life? I had no choice.”

“We could have fought them.” You stand up. “If it’s a criminal case, I could have handled it. Hell, if I couldn’t, I know a few good lawyers that would have helped us, Mina. There had to have been some other way.” Your voice starts to soften after seeing her in tears.

“It wouldn’t have worked.” Mina turns back to the window. “The dirt that they had on dad was… damning. Borderline disturbing. I was already in disbelief when they just told me. Imagine my horror when they actually showed me. More importantly, I didn’t want you getting roped in the mistakes my family made. Your career’s barely started and getting muddied in my family’s dirt isn’t going to help you.”

She made sense, but sense and logic wasn’t on your mind right now. You stand up with the ring in hand. You move behind her, hugging her tight with no intention of letting go. You hold on to her hand and slip the ring back on her. She looks at you with tears in her eyes.

“You already said yes. And I know we both probably haven’t even thought about our vows, but when you said yes and wore the ring, my promise already started.” You held her hand tighter. “From that day forward it will always be you and me. In sickness and in health. For richer or for poorer. For better or for worse, Mina. You’re the only one for me, until my dying breath.”

Tears continue to run down Mina’s face as she turns and buries her face in your chest. You continue hugging her, bringing her closer, holding her tighter. “So I don’t care what dirt they have on your dad or your family. It doesn’t matter to me. I’ll fight it as long as you stay with me, for as long as you’ll have me.” You bring a hand to her chin to have her look up at you. “We’ll fight it. Together. Like how it should be.”

Mina didn’t reply. Honestly, you didn’t want her to. Or maybe you didn’t need her to. Sure, you were afraid of what she might say. Maybe she might agree with you, and fight the problem together. Or maybe she might tell you to move on and forget about her. Either way, your heart was already set with what you wanted to do. You’re not letting go of her and of your relationship. You're holding on for dear life, because you can’t imagine living without her.

The two of you stand there in complete silence. You’re lost in her teary eyes, the city light coming in from outside has her glowing in the darkness of the hotel room. It’s been minutes since you finished saying your piece. Minutes since either two of you have moved from each other’s embrace. You hesitate in making any move or sound, fearing her suddenly vanishing from your grasp. Instead, Mina makes the move for you.

Mina’s hands race from your chest towards your nape. Her fingers lock behind your neck, pulling your head down for a quick kiss. When she pulls back, your eyes meet once again. It looked like she was waiting for your reaction, almost wondering if this was the right time. Mere minutes ago she had called off your engagement, but now she just kissed you. You had every right to be angry and upset with the mixed signals she’s been sending you. So what do you do? You kiss her back. Not a quick one, like the one she gave you a second ago. But a longer one. A deeper one. A more passionate one. Your lips were clashing for control. Your tongues lapping at each other for a taste. She pulls you down deeper, you lift her up higher. The desperation in your actions were evident. The tight grip around her waist, bringing her in closer with every chance you get. You wanted her to stay. You wanted– no, needed her to know that. What worried you was how you didn’t get the same feeling from her.

When you both pulled back, no words were spoken. Mina was the first to act. She took your hand as she started making her way to the bedroom. Her free hand reached back and undid the zipper of her gown. With every step she took, the silk fabric slid down her slender frame. Her bare back slowly joined her already exposed shoulders. When she got to the bedroom door, she stepped out of the pooled white gown in nothing but her lace panties. All the while, you make quick work of your own clothes. Your suit jacket thrown carelessly on the couch. Your shirt tossed on the dining table. Your pants pooled beside her dress. She opens the door before turning around and holding both of your hands. She walks backwards slowly, guiding the both of you to the bed. She lies down, but you remain standing.

You tower over Mina as she looks up at you. The both of you pause for a moment. An eerie silence grows in the room, save for your shared heavy breaths. She looks up at you with a curious gaze, wondering what your next move will be. You, on the other hand, take this moment to do more than just look at her. You try to memorize all the little details about her. All the little imperfections that actually made her perfect. You do your best to take in this moment as if it was your last chance to.

You were about to get lost in your thoughts before your body acted on its own. You drop to your knees before Mina and hold on to the bands of her panties, pulling them slowly down her toned legs. You come face to face with her entrance, ready to start with your routine of intimacy before she sits up and holds your face. “No time.” She whispers to you. “I need you. Now.”

That should have been the first red flag for you. She never turns down foreplay, not like this. You relent and climb on to the bed with her as she continues to hold your face. She pulls you into another kiss as you position yourself between her legs. The both of you were restless as you started making out. Your exposed cores rubbing against each other, getting you to full mast while getting Mina wetter with every second. Her hands still rest on your cheeks, not letting go of your face. Almost as if she’s afraid of you leaving. When you finally manage to pull away, the both of you pause and stare into each other’s eyes.

If you could count how many times you’ve gotten lost in Mina’s eyes, you’d rather try to count the number of stars in the night sky instead. At least you know that has a definite end. When it came to Mina, you would find yourself getting lost in her eyes every other moment. Her pupils contained galaxies, ones you would have loved getting lost in for the rest of your life.

You’re brought back from being lost in your thoughts by Mina when she closes the gap and crashes her lips on to yours again. She’s being impatient. You can feel it through the kiss. There’s desperation in her movements. She was clinging on to you harder. Gripping you tighter. Like she doesn’t want to let go, but she knows she has to. At this point, it should have hit you already. You should have known.

When Mina relents and pulls away, she gives you the slightest nod of permission. You understand. With your shaft in hand, you trace her lips with your tip, up and down, before settling at her entrance. There was some slight resistance before she welcomed your advance. You ease into her slowly, with the familiar feeling of her velvet walls molding around you. With every inch you pushed into her at an agonizingly slow pace, you could feel her pull you in and get wetter. When you reach the hilt and she’s taken you entirely, you pause as you both need a moment. A shared guttural moan escapes from your mouths, followed by some panting and whimpers. You couldn’t see her face since she buried it deep in the crook of your shoulder and neck, but you could tell the pleasure was making her close her eyes tight and grit her teeth. When she graces you with the view of her beautiful face again, she holds your face in her hands as she plants a soft kiss on your lips. She then places her forehead on your own, mixed droplets of your sweat and hers running down and falling. In the softest voice possible, she whispers against your lips: “Go.” That’s all you needed to hear. You start pounding into Mina. At first going slow, sensual, and deliberate with your actions. You take your time to savor each moment of your dick sliding out of her folds before being sucked back in. You feel her velvet walls warp around you, welcoming your shaft before snapping back around it. Every time you pull your hips back and crash back into her, you do your best to remember the feeling. Both physically and emotionally, you wanted it imprinted on your brain. Every little detail, her small reactions, the way sweat starts running down her skin, the grip her fingers had on your arms. You want to remember it, all of it.

When you feel that you’ve prolonged Mina’s wait enough, you start ramping up the speed of your thrusts. Your hips pull back and snap back into faster each time. You could feel your tip reach her deepest parts, earning moans and shrieks from her. She has you in a vice grip, her legs wrapped around your waist and ankles locked behind your back. Her arms were wrapped around your shoulders, her hands pushing you into the crook of her neck. You couldn’t see anything, barely hearing her moans and whimpers. The only sense working was taking in her scent. A mixture of her perfume and natural sweat. Despite being deprived of the other senses, her smell alone was enough to keep fueling your hunger and passion. It urges you to continue pistoning into her, every thrust growing faster than the last. You could barely hear her muffled moans and whimpers, but you can feel them vibrate against your neck. When her grip on you loosens, you’re able to pull back from her neck and finally experience the rest of her reactions.

Mina’s eyes were still shut tightly as you continued to plunge back into her over and over again. Each time you hilt into her makes her moan and shriek. Each time you feel your tip hitting her most sensitive parts. When she finally opens her eyes, you’re graced with the view of her hazel colored galaxies. She lets go of your neck and holds your face again. You slow down a bit, as you feel her caress your cheek with her thumbs. She gives you a nod before she pulls you in for a kiss. Enough of a permission to get the both of you to the finish line.

You start pumping into Mina at a break neck pace. There’s desperation in your actions. Your movements telegraph what’s going through your subconscious mind. You want her to stay. You want to stop her from leaving. You wonder if fucking her well would be enough. You wonder if letting her know how much you loved her— no, letting her know how much you adored her would be enough to make her stay. This cluster fuck of thoughts would have scattered throughout your brain, but Mina brought you out of the trance again.

“C-close, so close. Harder. Please.” She weakly says to you in between moans.

“Me too -fuck- Me too.” You reply as you pick up the pace.

“Together. Inside. Please!” Mina shouts.

You do your best to pull it together. Anything you could do to get the both of you over the finish line. Your thrusts grow erratic, varying from deep and hard to shallow and light. Mina’s nails scratch your back in response, leaving a trail of red marks. You go back to sucking and kissing her neck while she buried her teeth into your shoulder. It only took a few more pumps before the two of you hit the final crescendo of your relationship, you just didn’t know it yet.

Mina reached her peak first. A cry muffled by your shoulder before being released into the world after she stops biting you. Her eyes shut tightly as her head falls back. Her body arches away from the bed, into yours as you continue to thrust into her. Her hips buck against you, some of her release gushing out each time you pull back. Her walls convulse around your shaft, working in tandem with your thrusts, pulling you in deeper each time. The feeling of her contracting around you, her juices gushing against your member, all of these sensations working together trying to get you to your peak as well. And they get the job done. When you reach your climax, you lose all sense of yourself. You manage to thrust into Mina one last time. Going hard and deep before the first of your release shoots out into her waiting womb. You end up seeing white, grunts and profanities escaping your mouth as you grit your teeth. You use all your remaining strength to keep your arms holding you up. Mina wraps her legs around you, making sure to stop you from slipping out of her. Her walls don’t stop contracting around you as you continue filling her up. She’s milking you dry, but it seems like your peak has no end. Her hands find your face again, bringing you in for another deep kiss. Your lips never leave each other as the two of you continue to ride out your shared orgasm.

When you feel the last of your release sputter out into Mina and she starts to settle down, your strength finally gives out. You fall onto your back beside her, both of you breathing heavily from the intense physical toll that the past few minutes needed from you. You’re left staring at the ceiling. Silence fills the room, aside from the occasional pants that escape your mouths. As if on cue, you both turn your heads towards each other. Your eyes lock with each other, tension sharp enough to cut the air. You’re both waiting– anticipating each other’s first movement. After a minute of dread, you decide to act.

The only thing on your mind at that time, even after the past near hour of sex, was Mina. How you wanted to hold her. How you did not want to let go. So you do. You reach out, bring her close, and lock her in an embrace. Her arms couldn’t wrap in response, her hands resting on your chest. You hold her close. You hold her tight. You feel her hot breath against your bare chest. Her fingers tracing shapes against your skin. In the silence, in a moment of weakness, you make one last plea to Mina. Against her silk-like, black hair, you whisper your final cry. “Stay. Please Mina. Just... just stay.”

Without even seeing her face, you knew it got to her. You felt her breath hitch against your chest. She looks up at you, a tear falling from her eye. The hazel colored galaxies piercing through you. She reaches up, a hand on your cheek, and gives you one last kiss. Not as deep as the past few ones, and certainly not as long, but the meaning remained. You felt the love, the reassurance. It gave you the slightest sliver of hope that she’ll stay. Because she will, right?

Right?

- - - -

The sun’s bright rays break through the curtain and hit your face. You groggily turn over, trying to avoid the light when the realization hits you.

The bed feels lighter.

You shoot up to a sitting position to check where you last saw her. Grasping at the area as if she would magically come back. You jump out of bed, speeding towards the bathroom in the hopes she was just there taking a shower, or in the living room watching the TV. Unfortunately for you, she wasn’t there. Again, there was still some sliver of hope. A chance that she just went out for food or something. A foolish wish, but a wish nonetheless. Yet, any hope you had gets wiped away when you return to the bedroom. On the nightstand, you see her engagement ring along with a note.

Your heart shatters when you see it. You immediately felt empty. With shaky steps, you approach where she slept and sat on the bed. You reach for the ring and the note, your hands trembling throughout the whole ordeal. You grip the ring, balling a fist around the piece of jewelry out of pure sadness. You could only make out the first few words of the note before you covered your eyes with your forearm, desperately trying to stop the tears that started to fall. ”I’m sorry…”

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