#Last Boss x Male reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tonycries · 1 month

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Men In Uniform F*ck Better!

Synopsis. You want him and you want him now. It doesn’t matter if you have to fúck him in his uniform - in fact, it just might make it better.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] professor! Gojo x Reader, yakuza boss! Sukuna x Reader, calligrapher! Geto x Reader, baker! Nanami x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, no curses! AU, oral (male + female receiving), men at work, manhandling, marking, slight gúnplay, degradation, smacking, choking, Sukuna is mean but he’s a yakuza boss so, spitting, semi-public, brat-taming, bunch of heinous stuff idek, cúmplay, slight foodplay, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.6k

A/N. Was gonna add Choso and Toji but this got too long, dw I’ll make separate ones about them later <3

♡ NANAMI KENTO - The baker

Watching Nanami Kento at work could make even the most ardent non-believers worship God.

Kneading. Spreading. Every motion of his strong hands deliberate and purposeful. Muscles rippling in his forearms with each movement.

You watch - almost hypnotized - as the devilishly handsome baker at your favorite bakery prepares his dough for tomorrow. By God were you glad you managed to bat your lashes just enough to convince him to let you stay after closing - for educational purposes, of course.

Your thighs squeeze together involuntarily as long fingers sink deep into the dough, squeezing. Pulling. Teasing. A delicate bead of sweat trickling down between his furrowed brows and disappearing enticingly between those chiseled collarbones. Oh, how you wished it was you under his hands instead.

“How long’s it gonna take? I see the way you’re watching me, y’know.”

A low rumble breaks the silence, sending tremors down your spine - all the way to your already-heated cunt. Eyes snapping up to meet Nanami’s darkened ones, your face burns at being caught red-handed. Stammering out excuses, “W-wha- I didn’t-”

Soft dough now forgotten, he steps closer, presence overwhelming, dominating the space around you. “Always do. Watching me with such slutty eyes.” Low words that make your pussy throb. You’re dumbfounded by his eyes, intense and stripping - making you feel so exposed and vulnerable before him.

In the dimly lit kitchen, the tension is palpable. You can’t help but lean into his presence, standing toe-to-toe with his muscled front.

With a slight smirk curling his lips, Nanami leans in, his breath warm against your ear and making you shudder in anticipation. “But don’t worry, darling. I like it.”

They’re the last words said before he pulls you into a searing kiss, a hand tight around your neck, neat fingernails digging into your skin, pulling you impossibly closer to him as his tongue demands entry, intertwining with yours. It’s possessive, it’s feral - and tastes oh so very sweet - just like his delicate pastries.

Nanami breathes you in like a man starved. A desperation that carries into your frantic fingers untying that godforsaken apron.

And in his steady hands as they lift you up as if you weigh nothing, fingers groping and kneading your ass as he seats you on the kitchen counter. The surface cold under where your skirt was messily bunched up. “Mm- hngh- please, Nanami.”

Pulling away with a final bite to your lower lip, he leaves a trail of wet, sloppy kisses down your body that send chills racing through you, and have your thighs rubbing together for an ounce of friction.

“Tch” Of course, he wasn’t a fan. Grip bruising, manhandling your legs open so shamefully, he splays you out deliciously for him. Nanami’s greedy gaze devours the sinful way your dripping cunt leaks through your thin panties - ones you wore especially for him.

Seems he knew too, pushing his glasses up contemplatively before dropping onto his knees with a fucked out oh. “Always knew you were naughty, darling, but to be such a slut? Driving me crazy, hm?” his voice thick with desire and whispered mere millimeters away from your swollen folds.

Moaning softly, you arch your back into the warm breath hitting your quivering cunt, whining out an embarrassed “Noo- only for you, Nanami.”

“Oh yeah?” Huffing out a dark chuckle, he all but rips off your soaked panties. The tattered fabric stark against the sterile floor. You gasp at the cold air that hits your heated cunt - but not for long, because Nanami’s hot mouth is on it like a man dying of thirst.

Nose-deep in your pussy, the cold metal of his glasses makes you flinch in sensitivity. His hands spread your cunt bruisingly, letting his tongue bully it’s way past your folds, urgently lapping at your juices as if you were the sweetest damn thing he’s ever tasted.

Chin hitting your cunt, nose rubbing against your pulsing clit, he makes out with your sloppy pussy in methodical, merciless movements of his tongue that have you keening and bucking your hips for more more more.

Looking up at you over his glasses, his hungry gaze devours your half-lidded eyes, the grip searing on his hair, and the whimpers of his name leaving your swollen lips just as greedily as the mouth on your slutty cunt.

“Wanted this right, darling?” he murmurs, lips hot against your own. Vibrations making slick bead out of your cunt and pool onto his waiting lips. “Wanted to break under my hands?”

“Yes. Yes, yes yes, s’all I’ve wanted.” teary whimpers leave your bruised lips, you craved the sting of his hands, the burn of his fingers. Your hips buck uncontrollably, grinding yourself against his mouth as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

Hands now groping every inch of skin he could find, leaving pretty purple marks that remind you of his mouth-watering pies.

Exploring every curve and valley, bending you to his will, languid where his tongue was merciless. Savoring you. Groping your breasts, squeezing your ass, as if he wanted everything all at once.

Your entire body was sore now. Cunt throbbing in sympathy with the tender flesh. Marks littering your skin as if you’d been thrown to the wolves. Ah, all these weeks you’d been right - heaven really was in Nanami Kento’s hands. And right now you were putty in them.

He grasped your thighs, squeezing them roughly and lifting them higher, opening you wider for his unforgiving pace. Clearly enjoying the way your face contorted in pain and pleasure, Kento slipped a finger inside you. One. Then two. Stretching you to your limits. Spreading open your already-stretched entrance further.

His fingers frantic now, fucked-out, jerky movements. Wilder. Animalistic. Driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“Open your mouth.”

You listen - drunk on his tongue as yours lolls out so lewdly. The taste hits you before the realization - sweet sugar and the taste of you on your tongue as two thick fingers are shoved into your mouth. They reach the back of your throat, pressing hard onto your tongue. You force yourself to fight off the gagging as some animalistic part of you sucks desperately on them for the sweet, sweet taste.

“Almost as sweet as you.” Nanami groans, words muffled into your cunt and sending white-hot pleasure racing up your spine. Words hanging in the air, he speeds up the movements of his mouth, frantic movements matching your need for more.

Your climax hits you with a jolt, cumming till you see stars behind your eyes. Maybe it was his words, maybe it was the way his tongue quirked just right on your throbbing clit to make you throw your head back as you fell apart underneath him.

“Hngh- Oh fuck, Nanami. M’cum- cumming!” you whine, grinding your cunt down impossibly harder on his pretty face. Fingers tangled in his silky blond locks as you force him deeper, riding out your high greedily.

You’re still dazed - vision blurry as Nanami pulls away from your cunt with a lewd squelch! getting up from his position kneeling on the floor. “So delicious on m’tongue, darling.”

Devastatingly handsome face flushed, breaths ragged, muscled front now pressing against your sinfully spread legs. And in your orgasm-hazed mind you still manage to hear the arousing clink of a belt unbuckling, and the metallic screech against marble of the nearby bowl of your favorite frosting being pulled closer. White - to match the precum dribbling down his leaking cock.

The distinct feeling of something wet and achingly hard against your needy cunt.

Oh. Ah, it really was a sweet, sweet life.

♡ GETO SUGURU - The calligrapher

You didn’t exactly think the live calligraphy show your friend dragged you to was about to have you on the edge of your seat.

But here you were.

Eyes locked on the way the tall figure onstage, clad in a dark yukata - sinfully slipping off to reveal a milky, toned shoulder. Geto Suguru exudes an air of raw sexuality that the entire audience was aware of, eyes not being able to decide between the masterpiece on the canvas or the masterpiece of a man on stage.

His fingers, long and agile, effortlessly over the bamboo pen. Each stroke a sensual caress, dark eyes pools of desire that match his long, flowing locks, and the inky characters on the page.

Chest heaving with passion, with a final, dramatic sweep of his arm, Geto completes the last stroke. And as the audience erupts into applause, you merely stay rooted to your seat, thighs pressing together and breath caught in your throat - only one thought ringing in your mind.

You just had to have him.

Which is why you found yourself following your friend to the chaotic atmosphere backstage. But despite the buzz of activity, you could still hear Geto’s deep, velvety voice carrying through the crowd.

Pushing through the sea of people, “Ah! Long time no see, Geto-san. This is my friend, she really enjoyed your performance tonight,” your friend introduced, gesturing towards you.

Eyes gleaming he turns to you, “Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah, I enjoyed it very much.” you grin, batting your lashes. Relishing in the way Geto’s dark eyes appraise you from head to toe. Taking in every inch of you - and you do the same.

Geto’s eyes harden, as if deciding on something. “I’m flattered. Why don’t you two lovely ladies join me for some drinks with the crew?”

Yeah, you had to have him - you just didn’t think that would be so easy.

Walls lined with paintings, the scent of ink and sin hung heavy in the air, as you two snuck away from the animated group downing celebratory shots. Geto’s hand hot in yours as he leads you down a dimly-lit corridor to “his favorite lil’ spot”, as he’d whispered to you.

You could tell you were getting closer - because Geto promptly pulls you closer, hands grasping your waist possessively.

“No turning back now, pretty girl.” he whispers, breath hot against your ear.

“S’all I want, Suguru.” you mutter, desire coursing through you like a wildfire, pooling into something sticky and hot at your cunt.

Perhaps seeing the pure, feral need in your eyes, Suguru murmurs, leaving no room for disagreement now, “Follow me.”

The room he led you to was heady with seductive candles, beautiful artwork lining the walls. His own - you assume, as Suguru leads you to a low wooden table in the center of the room. On it is a bottle of sake and two cups.

Movements fluid and precise, Suguru pours the sake, filling it to the brim. He hands it to you, eyes never leaving your face. “Drink up, pretty girl.” he hums, low and seductive. And honestly fuck stranger danger, how could you not when he looks at you like that?

So you drink, sake burning its way down your throat. Predatory eyes locked on you as you set down the cup, Suguru’s mouth quirks up into a sly grin around his as he asks, “Liked it?”

You’ve barely gotten out the nod - not trusting yourself to speak - before Suguru downs his shot abruptly, slamming down the cup with a thunk!

Lips parting slightly, slender fingers squish your cheeks together into an almost-embarrasing pout. Forcing you to look up at him with an almost predatory grace as he looms closer. You don’t know if you should’ve expected the steady, warm stream of sake and saliva that hits your tongue. Sliding so obscenely down your throat.

Guess Suguru Geto was filthy in bed where he was the embodiment of grace in public.

It’s sweet on your tongue - both the sake and Suguru.

Eyes glassy, a mixture of sake and drool dribbling down the corner of your mouth - Suguru really can’t help the lips that come crashing down on yours, tongue plunging deep into your mouth. His tongue was relentless, keeping yours intertwined in a heady kiss.

Arms wrapping around your waist to pull you impossibly closer to his heated body. Hands tugging on your hair, mapping your curves. All the way up to cup your breasts, thumbs running tight, little circles around your perked nipples.

You moan into the heated kiss as something rock-hard pokes your thigh. Hand greedily grabbing at his yukata with the need for more.

Breaking the kiss, Suguru’s breaths come in ragged gasps. “On your knees, pretty girl.”

And what Geto Suguru wants, Geto Suguru gets.

Which is why you were sat, eyes hungry and greedily watching the way Suguru slowly, and deliberately peels open the front of his yukata, exposing his toned torso. A sly grin curling his lips at you gape at his leaking cock, standing proud and achingly hard. Thick and unforgiving.

Fuck, could you really take him in your mouth? He was at least twice as big as anyone else you’ve been with before…

“Open.” he orders, voice low and commanding and making your cunt clench so deliciously in anticipation. Suguru’s flushed tip pokes your lips - glossy with sake and saliva - precum salty on your tongue. God, he was huge. Parting your mouth wider, lips stretching around his length you desperately try to fuck him into your mouth - eager to please.

But it just wasn’t enough.

Because Suguru has a searing grip on your hair, holding your head steady as he pushed his cock all the way down your throat. Delicate veins throbbing against the roof of your mouth as he starts up a steady, merciless pace fucking your mouth as if you were nothing but a fucktoy.

“C’mon now, you said s’all you want. Better act like it, pretty girl.” he chuckles darkly, pushing you impossibly further down so that your nose presses into the tufts of thick, black hair at his pelvis. Like delicate strokes of a fine art. Breathing in the heady, masculine scent so sinfully.

This man is a masterpiece, you think deliriously - completely cock-drunk as you gag around his length, eyes burning at the way his fat tip hits your abused throat. Over and over. A ceaseless cadence you were losing your mind to.

“Oh, fuck. Yeah, jus’ like that.” he hisses, as you tongue at his slit. Fingers deftly pressing around your neck to feel his dick ramming down your throat.

The once-serene room rings with your pathetic, wet gurgles around Suguru’s cock and the smacking of skin on skin as his heavy balls hit your chin. “Take it, take it all.”

You moan, body arching as you claw at his toned hips for some semblance of stability. Nails digging neat lines down his milky skin. Balls tightening, he thrusts animalistically into your mouth, each one deeper and harder than the last, cock sliding in and out of you brutally.

Messy.

Saliva and precum drip down his length, dirtying his yukata. Tears streak down your cheeks onto Suguru’s wrist, fingers tightening ferally around your throat. Blood roaring in your ears, choking at both the throbbing cock and the hand blocking your airway.

It was so fucking messy.

So it only made sense that Suguru’s orgasm was the same.

With a guttural cry of your name, Suguru came in hot spurts of cum, shooting rope after rope down your ready throat as his cock pulsed and stuttered in your mouth. You felt so dirty, his seed pooling on your tongue.

But he wasn’t done - no, far from it - pulling out from your abused mouth with a lewd pop! Twitching cock heavy on your face as he paints your face white. Hips bucking deliriously, a smug smirk playing on his lips at his masterpiece.

Face and mouth covered in his cum, fucked out enough that you basically had heart eyes looking at Suguru, you ready yourself to swallow it all. Needing to taste Suguru immediately.

Ah, but one can’t get everything they want.

Because Suguru drops to his knees, hand still tight around your throat as he captures your lips with his. Teeth clashing, lips bruising, forcing his tongue down your throat. Tasting himself. Tasting you. It was absolutely animalistic.

A barely-lucid, disappointed whine leaves your swollen lips as he pulls away. Only to spit once. Twice. Three times on your face.

You flinch as wads of saliva and his cum hit your face, warm and dripping down your cheeks. Staining the pristine tatami mats below as they fall with a resounding tap! tap! tap!

And you gladly offer yourself up for the abuse. A fucked out smile spreading across your face as you take in the feeling of being so debauched by Suguru. Somewhat-delirious, you barely register the dark mutter against your ear, “Hope you’re not tapping out yet, pretty girl. I haven’t even gotten out my paintbrushes yet.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - The yakuza boss

“Strip.”

Standing in the dimly lit room, red-hot irritation flashes behind your eyes as you bristle at the words falling out of his mouth - devastatingly handsome had it not been for that smug, leering smirk.

Eyes half-lidded, long legs spread on that gaudy armchair, smoke falling from Sukuna’s lips as he stares at you intently. Eyes piercing through yours over his cigar. Demanding compliance.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you rip your gaze from his, flitting panickedly between the imposing yakuza boss in front of you - all alluring tattoos, and heavy, gold rings - and the glinting pistol that lay silently on one, muscular thigh.

You can feel the heat of his gaze burning into your skin as your hands tremble, fumbling with those tedious buttons. Breathing heavy, nipples hardening - your top hits the floor. God, what the fuck have you gotten yourself into.

Cursing your father’s debt, you move on to your pants. Desperately trying to avoid catching a glimpse of those blown-out pupils, something prickly and hot pooling in your stomach. Shit. You won’t start liking this - you refuse to start liking this.

One by one, it falls away. Leaving you bare and completely exposed under Sukuna’s intense scrutiny. A low growl escapes his lips at the way your thighs clench together so sinfully, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

“Come here, doll.” Low, raspy words that go straight to your cunt. But you steel yourself, heels clacking against the polished floor as you step closer. And closer. Watching the way he drinks in your naked form.

But apparently too slow.

Before you can even react, a muscled arm reaches out, pulling you to fall into his waiting lap, straddling those toned hips. A jolt of electricity going through your body as you register the cold metal of the gun digging into your leg.

Sukuna leans forward, the scent of tobacco and sin overwhelming your senses. “Dance f’me.”

Shit. How dare he talk to you this way - and how dare you let your pussy clench in anticipation at his demeaning tone.

Biting back a groan at the way your hardened nipples brush against his button-up, you tentatively roll your hips forward. A thrill going straight to your pussy as something long and thick presses against you. Involuntarily, you press closer, grinding against him. Hard.

Large, calloused hands find your ass. Squeezing roughly to pull you closer, rocking your hips back and forth on his throbbing erection. Back and forth back and forth back and-

Cool metal pressed against your skin - the barrel of his glinting gun pressed lightly against your forehead. Goosebumps erupt down your spine, painfully prickling at your skin as you realize just what the fuck he was doing. “As much as I love you humping me like a bitch in heat, doll. I asked you to dance f’me.” he murmurs, tone was positively dripping with something dark and dangerous.

Well, you think, gritting your teeth in determination. Might as well give the bastard what he asks for.

Staring defiantly right into those darkened, intense eyes, you begin moving your body agonizingly slow. Hands tantalizingly tracing the outline of your body. Teasingly caressing the skin, sliding your fingers along your collarbone, down your rib cage, grazing your navel before slithering lower. Lower.

Your soaked cunt forming a wet patch right on his straining erection.

Sukuna’s eyes follow your every move - every circle of your hips down on his throbbing bulge. The corner of his mouth curving into a satisfied smile as he takes in the sight of you so sinful and shamefully exposed for him.

The desire simmering beneath his composed exterior is basically palpable.

And then, it snaps.

Suddenly, his arm snaps up, grabbing bruisingly at your waist. With a slow, deliberate motion, he takes a long drag of his cigar - blowing the smoke right in your face, the warm breath mingling with the heady air.

Your surprised gasp is swallowed by his heated kiss, tongues wrestling as a hand digs into the tender skin of your neck. As if he owns you.

Hips bucking wildly, and more frantically on Sukuna’s clothed cock - the expensive fabric of his pants now wet with your slick and his precum. You lose yourself in the moment.

But what you do register is the sharp unzipping of his pants.

Snapping your eyes open, they meet with the large, leaking cock now pulsing in his hands, prominent veins glistening with precum that dribbles down his flushed head. Pulling away, you rip your gaze from his throbbing erection to look in his eyes - with what, fear? Anticipation? Both?

Sukuna lounges back on his armchair leisurely, relishing the way you watch - somewhat-awestruck - as his large hand begins moving in small, unhurried motions up and down his rock-hard length.

A harsh push of the barrel against your forehead snaps you out of your debauched reverie. “Didn’t tell ya to stop, did I, doll?” he hisses out, venomous and needy.

The tension in the room is almost tangible, the air thick with lust and fear. As you watch the rhythmic jerks of Sukuna’s hand on his erect cock - up and down up and down up and- your body betrays you.

Mind hazy with arousal, you place your hands on his shoulders, cunt clenching at the strong, defined muscle beneath your fingertips. You lean forward, lips meeting his in a desperate, desperate kiss.

Pulling away, you reach for his heavy cock, wrapping your fingers around it, feeling it’s thickness and the heat. Sukuna lets out a low growl, eyes closing momentarily as you begin to stroke him in urgent, desperate tugs that have his hips bucking involuntarily.

As you let him fuck your fist like his own personal fleshlight, you grind down against his thigh. Hard. His tight, twitching ball stimulating your clit just right as you get yourself off on Sukuna like a bitch in heat.

Maybe it was the pure feral need in your hazy eyes - or maybe it was the way you lean your head into the gun pressing against your forehead - but Sukuna’s eyes widen, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. Only growing more amused by the second as you lean impossibly closer to take the cigar from his hand, placing it between your lips.

Drawing deeply, inhaling the sweet, rich flavor of the tobacco. As you exhale, you deliberately blow the smoke into his face, the tendrils of vapor swirling around his beautiful features, mixing with the sweat and the scent of his cologne.

A deep bark of laughter makes Sukuna throw his head back - and you to clench around nothing on his lap. Hips becoming more and more animalistic against his. Your wrist now aching and wet with precum, becoming so, so sloppy trying to get both yourselves off.

Sukuna wraps his arm around you, pulling you close, his hand cupping your breast possessively. The other surges back with the gun on your forehead - where it had been faltering from pleasure before. “Make us come within the next five seconds before I blow your head off, doll.”

One.

Your fingers tighten around his cock, milking him. Movements from both ends become more and more filthy with the need to release.

Two.

You cup his heavy balls in your hands, clit catching on his zipper and making you mewl at the stimulation.

Three.

A thumb pressing down between his balls, hard. Hips stuttering with your impending release, losing your mind with each stroke.

Four.

Sukuna body goes rigid, choking on what sounds like your name, bottom lip catching between his teeth as he throws his head back and-

Five.

Cums all over your fist, thick, hot spurts of seed that paint your hands white. Splattering on your palm, and onto the chair below. You not too far behind as your body bows into his, stars behind your eyes as you chase peak after peak grinding down on his lap. You shudder, release taking everything out of you until it’s nothing more than mere tingles.

A finger on the trigger. Pulling.

Click!

As Sukuna’s maniacal laughter rings in the heady room, you blink away the haze of your orgasm as you realizing with a jolt that there were no fucking bullets.

Yet this bastard shot you anyway.

Skin heated against yours, lips ghosting your ear as Sukuna whispers. Low and gravelly.

“I don’t need a gun to kill, doll.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - The professor

“You see, I really, really need this A to pass, sir.” you bat your lashes innocently, slightly whiny yet not desperate - at least, not yet.

Short skirt hiking up as you lean over the desk in Professor Gojo’s stuffy office. Making sure that tight top you purposefully wore lets those striking blue eyes see a perfect view of your breasts - no bra today, of course.

Eyes flickering down. Once. Twice.

Success.

Yet, Professor Gojo’s easy grin stays steadfast, “Well, maybe you should have studied harder then, hm?” You’d almost be fooled by his little act, yet your eyes catch the way he subtly crosses his legs, something stirring in those alluring cerulean eyes as he looks up at you through his lashes.

Deciding to play along, huffing as you cross your arms across your chest, “I did, maybe you should just let me take on an assignment for extra credit.”

His eyes widened slightly, his eyebrows raising in question, “What kind of assignment?”

You bite your lips coyly, holding back a smirk at the way he makes it so easy for you. Reaching out immediately to trace a thumb across his full lips, leaning down far enough that your tits were basically spilling out of your top now.

“The one where you fuck me, right here. Right now, on this desk.”

You could feel his pulse quickening against your hand, voice strained with need. “I should fail you right now for this.”

Brushing your lips against his earlobe, you whisper, “But you won’t, sir.”

Before you can react, in one, fluid motion strong arms lift you off the desk to splay you out so sinfully on it. You almost get whiplash from his pure strength, brought back only by the feeling of his muscular thighs warm against your ass.

“If you want that A, then prove how badly you need it.”

Your heart races as you nod, cheeks flaring with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. With a feral grin, you spread your legs apart, toying with that soaked g-string - exposing your bare pussy. Beads of slick pooling underneath you on the desk as the way Gojo’s eyes harden as you clench around nothing.

You trail your hands enticingly down, down down. A delicate finger swiping at your folds, collecting your juices - popping right into your mouth. A smug huff of laughter leaves you at the way Gojo’s mouth drops into a surprised oh!

“You’re such a lil’ fucking minx, princess.”

You needed him now.

Rubbing your thumb over your swollen clit, index finger bullying its way into your snug cunt the way you wanted Gojo to. You gasp, arching your back as waves of pleasure, “Oh, sir! Mmm- feel s’good inside me. Want more- hah-”

Pornographic whines of pleasure send blood rushing straight to Gojo’s cock. He was losing his mind at your little show. He was going insane.

“Your turn now.” you mewl,

Your hungry gaze was locked with Gojo’s as he stands, removing his belt and unbuckling his pants. Your eyes follow the movement greedily, mouth watering at the impressive size of his erection. Leaking tip furiously flushed your favorite shade of pretty pink. Delicate beads of precum smearing on the frantic, jerky movements of his fist up and down and up and down and-

It’s a silent staredown. Your fingers matching the delicious rhythm of his fist, urgently fucking yourselves to each other. Trying to see who would break first. Up and down up and down - in and out in and out. Faster.

“Didn’t think you were all talk, sir.”

That’s what makes the great Gojo Satoru break. Surging forward in hasty steps, your hands pinned to the cold surface of the desk, pussy now quivering in loneliness.

Smack!

“Count to five, then I’ll give what you want. If you can’t even do that then I don’t think you deserve an A, princess.”

“O-one.” You whine at the harsh hand that smacks your ass, large handprint stinging into your searing skin.

“This the hand?” Gojo whispers, voice ragged. Inspecting your hands before his tongue sticks out to lick a long, languid stripe up your fingers, pooling your juices on his tongue. Pretty blue eyes rolling to the back of his head as he licks your fingers clean so filthily.

Electricity courses through your veins as his long fingers deftly rip off your flimsy g-string, pocketing it safely in his work pants. You have half the mind to snark about it before you register Gojo’s throbbing cock flush against your pussy, leaking tip teasing in between your dripping folds leisurely.

Your slick mixing with his precum, trailing down down down his glistening length, pooling on where he tightly gripped his base - splattering onto the hardwood office floor with a deafening tap! tap! tap! that matched the heartbeat in your ears.

“Beg for it, princess.”

“Hmmm, no.”

Smack! Smack!

“Ah! Three! Hah- please, sir.”

You didn’t even know exactly what you were begging for - but you got exactly what you wanted. Breath catching in your throat at the way Gojo pushed into you with a raspy grunt, cock hot and heavy against your fluttering walls.

His sheer size makes you feel like you’ll split apart any second now, but oh how you desperately wanted to be broken by him.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Gojo began to thrust. Shallow, mindless strokes, each one just to drive his enormous cock deeper to fit into your snug, ravaged cunt.

“Fuck me, please, sir. Need you feel me up insi-”

Smack!

“...four.” you whisper, voice strained with need and frustration.

Ass sore, marks probably there for days. Your words catch pathetically in your throat as Gojo loses grip on his restraint - or his sanity - whichever one would break you first. Sheathing himself inside your dripping heaven till his heavy balls smacked your clit, your ass flush against the neat tufts of white at his pelvis.

Wasting no time, Gojo starts up at an uncontrollable, merciless pace, every inch of him being forced all the way into your snug pussy. Your walls suck him up greedily as his prominent veins throb and graze just right on all your sweet spots.

“This what you wanted, princess?” he rasps out, pace unwavering. “This is what you wanted, right? To be fucked like the pretty little slut that you are, huh?”

“Yes! Yes, please, sir.”

Each ramming of his cock drives you further and further up the cold desk, a pathetic little ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth at each slam. Knees weakened by his relentless pounding, you didn’t know how you were gonna hold yourself up anymore-

Ah, but you didn’t have to. Gojo Satoru, ever the gentleman, wrapped a single, muscular arm under your hips, kneading the skin underneath his fingertips, fucking you deeper onto his cock as if you were his personal fucktoy.

“Oh fuck! Hngh- sir, right there.” you yelp at the new angle, his furiously flushed tip kissing your cervix so painfully good, g-spot abused as he grazes it over and over.

Smack!

“Ah, sir! Five-”

And then you’re cumming. Hips pushing back animalistically, fucking yourself through your high. Chasing peak after peak.

Boneless and exhausting, dripping cunt clamping down on him you mewl, “Fill me up inside, sir! Wanna feel it dripping down my legs.” At the sound of your voice, Gojo’s eyes rolled back, his features contorted in pure ecstasy as his cock twitches savagely inside you, finally letting himself release. Cum gushing out in thick, pulsating spurts.

Filling your abused pussy to the brim, coating your walls an obscene white. Gojo keeps fucking himself through it, milking even the last drops of his length on your cunt. Breaths ragged, hips animalistic, low murmurs of your name leaving his lips.

And as his climax bates into nothing more but mere tingles, lust-hazed, tired ears catch the distant knocking from outside. Ah, right that appointment.

Blinking back the vision to his eyes, he looks down at you. All fucked-out, swollen lips pouty, and his cum dribbling enticingly down your thighs. Oh how he just wants to bite into you - or have half the mind to just send you out there like this to show all those college losers who you belong to.

Or, he thinks, eyes twinkling as he looks down at the generously large space under his desk.

You catch his gaze, a dangerous glint in them as he maps every curve and dip of your body. Marked and so very obviously his. Your pretty lips falling into a soft oh! as you realize just what idea was forming behind those darkened blue eyes.

“Come in.”

Before you know it, you’re shoved hastily under the desk, Gojo’s still-furiously flushed tip kissing your bruised lips as the door swings open. God, if every assignment was like this then you’d probably end up valedictorian…

A/N. Can’t believe this got me b@nned for like a hour bro pls.

Plagiarism not authorized.

7K notes · View notes

moonjxsung · 5 months

Text

Visions of You in Solitude

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x fem reader

W/c: 26.5k

Warnings: erotic painting, mentions of masturbation, sex in a semi-public place (no one is around), breast/nipple play, dry humping, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (fem receiving), cum eating, use of pet names, drinking

Synopsis: You were hired to paint him- not fall for him. But intentions quickly shift when Hyunjin finds himself infatuated with you and learns the secrets you harbor.

18+. Mdni!

•

There’s something to be said about the loneliness that comes with being an artist. The repetitive cycle of translating tangibility to canvas or paper in whichever chosen medium. Fleeting muses you draw inspiration from, which quickly become burdensome as you’re faced with them every waking second of your day. Obsession with perfecting your craft, the anxieties that come with criticism of your life’s work and sometimes even succumbing to changing it entirely at the hands of someone else’s advice.

It’s very seldom even your craft at a certain point, only existing to satisfy the visual demands of others and turn a profit when displayed at a show. And it’s certainly not for everyone, not when it’s this lonely and rooted in the discomfort of personal solitude.

From this proximity, the blinding white walls that span the perimeter of the waiting room feel like that of a prison’s- coupled with the glossy laminate flooring and glaring white lights, you feel completely entrapped.

“They’re almost ready for you,” your boss says abruptly as he enters the room and occupies the gray folding chair next to you. “You have everything you need?”

Headcount- your black leather briefcase of oil paints, brushes, charcoal, pencils, paint thinner, old rags and your painting palette.

“The canvas is already set up,” your boss chimes in as if he can read your mind. “And there’s a seat for you. Just relax, and don’t push yourself.”

You take a deep breath, doing your best to follow his advice- but a part of you wants to get up and leave, to run away from all of this. Painting is your passion, it’s your forte and it’s been your life’s work for as long as you can remember. But being commissioned like this, for men much richer than money you’ll ever see, it feels suffocating.

They don’t tell you their names these days, nor the name of whatever organization they’re from. Last month it was an elite group of stock investors, the month before, it was a famous violinist from Japan. And today, it’s a male group, eight members with net worths that look like telephone numbers, or so you’ve been told. And it’s not that you’re intimidated, but you do get self-conscious at the prospect of people watching you while you paint. At some point, it’s like you become the model, their eyes boring into your flesh as you paint long strokes across the canvas and order them to hold still.

“Five minutes,” your boss now says, checking the time on his silver watch and adjusting it so that it sits a little higher up on his wrist.

You wish he wouldn’t count the minutes. You wish he’d stay quiet, allow you to sit with your thoughts and ruminate the day ahead of you. And yet he taps his heel in syncopation with the second hand on the clock above you, the echoing click of both driving you up the wall.

“I need a breather,” you state suddenly, sitting up from your chair and smoothing down your smock. “I need to go outside.”

“Three minutes,” he responds sterly, tapping at the glass lens of his watch and motioning to the door.

You shove your way past the double doors, past the white tiled hallway and just in front of the double doors that lead to freedom again. Two minutes.

It’s like your body is giving out on you involuntarily, your knees buckling as you grip the stair railing and steady your breathing. A quick glance around to ensure no one’s caught you heaving so nervously- and you’re too late. A man saunters down the hallway past you, his hands shoved casually in his pockets as he cocks his head to stare at you, his long black hair falling loosely around his shoulders as he does. He’s tall, and slim, with an elongated torso hugged by an expensive denim coat, his slender legs on display in black slacks and complemented by a sharp pair of boots. You don’t catch a very good look at his face, his figure blurring by as you check your watch, to the second now- you’re supposed to be inside.

You waste no more time jogging down the hallway past the figure and back into the waiting room, where your boss is angrily tapping his heel and scanning the room for you.

“There you are,” he says frustratedly. “No more breaks if you can’t manage your time. They’re waiting for us.”

And with a deep breath, he helps you gather your art supplies, motioning in front of you to the brightly lit room. You take one breath, and then two, as you finally begin into the painting room, eight men already seated and ready for you.

The crowd is nothing like the stock investors, or the violinists you’re used to. They’re rowdy, and loud. They very seldom sit still, cracking jokes amongst themselves and shoving each other off the wooden stools every other minute. You do your best to keep your gaze away from them when you don’t need to look at them, trying to memorize their features in intervals so you can focus on just the canvas in front of you as you paint. But it’s nearly impossible, their melodic voices pressing you for answers and insights into your artist career.

“What’s the hardest painting you’ve ever done?” One asks, his baritone voice sounding almost startling in contrast to his bright appearance.

“There’s lots,” you reply quietly. “I’m not sure I can pick one.”

You give him a small smile, trying to memorize the freckles on his face before turning back to the canvas, hoping you won’t have to glance back over at him for the next minute or so.

“Let’s take five,” your boss says as he enters the room again, two iced coffees balanced in his hands. “Thanks, guys.”

And the men scatter to their break room, where neat trays of food are already set out for them to choose from. As the doors swing closed behind them, you watch them select from a variety of pre-cooked noodles, assorted fruits and vegetables, packs of chips and trays upon trays of desserts. They’re fed as though they’re the ones doing all the painting.

“Coffee,” Q says, setting down a plastic cup in front of you, the straw already conveniently placed for you.

“Thanks, Quinton.”

Your boss, Quinton, or Q, is a brutally honest man when he wants to be, quick to comment on your work and keep you in your place. He runs your calendar like the military, never missing an important appointment and opting you in for every profitable painting session possible. He’s another thing you find suffocating at the worst of times, always somewhere breathing commands down your neck and dragging you to every private event under the sun.

“Let me see,” Q states plainly, gesturing to the canvas with his cup of coffee. You shyly angle the canvas toward him, hoping he won’t scrutinize anything about your pacing- you’re trying to get out of here as quickly as possible, and you silently pray the art doesn’t reflect that sentiment.

But to your surprise, he doesn’t, swiping a few stray eraser shavings off the canvas and giving you a nod.

“Looks good. Remember, we just need the skin tones and facial features. The clothes and all that can be filled in later with our reference pictures.”

You nod in response, taking a generous sip of your coffee, realizing this is probably the worst beverage you could’ve picked to calm your nerves. The caffeine pulsates through you, making your heart flutter even more than it already is, and the bitter taste leaves little to salivate over.

“How much longer, do you think?” You inquire, chewing on the tip of your straw nervously.

“No more than an hour, if you keep up this pace,” Q responds. “I’m going to the bathroom real quick, have everything ready again for when I get back. Don’t make me wait.”

You watch as he gets up from his own wooden stool, placing his cup of coffee where he sits, and exits the room to the corridor once again.

You’re alone in the painting room, the white sheets that line the floors staring back at you with little eyes in the form of paint splotches. From behind the door, you can still hear the eight men shuffling about, laughing loudly and downing their snacks. And you want to leave again, the feeling instilling another sense of foreignness inside of you. Like you don’t belong here, even though you’re the painter. You feel small, cramped, even useless, as you stare down the painted flesh outlines across from you.

A click of the door closing beside you garners your attention, and you look up expecting Q to return and resume the session. But it’s not Q- it’s the same figure from earlier in the hallway, slowly making his way inside and hoisting himself back up on the wooden stool. He keeps his head down as he gets comfortable again, two hands running through his black hair and slicking it back out of his forehead.

And then he looks at you- or stares, rather, two hands resting on the exposed wood in front of him as his legs balance on the wooden beams below. You can feel his eyes burning into your figure, and you do everything in your power to avert his gaze and keep your eyes locked on the canvas in front of you. But he remains like that, staring, for several minutes, until you nervously tilt your head to catch his gaze.

You feel your heart race as you do, catching a glimpse of his flawless features as he furrows his brows in concentration. His silky black hair isn’t the only striking thing about him- he has piercing brown eyes, which narrow with such intensity as he remains seated there, unmoving and confident in his stance. His plump lips contrast beautifully against his chiseled jawline, and his lanky figure makes him look like the contemporary art statues you’re so acquainted with, like he’s formed from wire and positioned to slouch so artistically in his spot.

You say nothing to the man, opting to give him a little nod, before focusing back on the beverage in your hands. And despite his clear fascination with you, he doesn’t reciprocate, instead pulling a cell phone out of his back pocket and preoccupying himself again.

You can’t quite tell if he’s rude, or strange, or even just unaware that his presence is so uncomfortable when he’s choosing to speak through cold stares instead of words. As you watch him through your peripheral vision, you hear the familiar sound of Q’s boots click through the doorway, gesturing rapidly at you and at the canvas.

“Let’s continue,” he orders, clasping his hands together with such purpose. “Where are they?” Q then questions, his eyes darting over the quiet man’s indifferent posture. And the strange man finally gets up from his stool, making his way through the break room door to usher the others inside once again.

They follow like a row of ducks, back to their respective seats, some of them with drinks in hand as they share whispered laughter amongst themselves and make little effort to sit still. You have no trouble picking up right where you left off, the innate talent to mirror figures in front of you coming in handy as you race the clock to complete their flesh-colored outlines.

Most of them converse lightly amongst each other, holding your gaze with a more serious expression when they catch you looking over at them.

Except for the strange man.

He’s relentless in his ways, continuing to stare so impolitely at you, his eyes piercing daggers right through your soul as he cocks his head to the left, and then the right, studying your face as you study all eight of theirs. What his intentions are exactly, you have no clue, simply opting to avert his gaze when you can and keep busy with your painting.

One hour later, the canvas illustrates all eight outlines of flesh and distinctive features, highlighting the beige freckles on one man’s, the toned biceps of another, and all other features that set them apart from each other. True to Q’s reminder, their clothes are traced in outlines, but color is void of their stencils, as you still have to bring the canvas home to complete the finishing touches. When they’re dismissed for the day, the gentlemen are all led by a sculpted man with a big smile who introduces himself as the leader, orchestrating the bows and applause that are held for you.

And as he ushers them out one by one, the strange man who’s been watching you all day is the last to leave, lingering a little bit too long with his hands shoved in his pockets like he wants to say something. He loiters by the canvas for several minutes, but you make no move to angle the painting at him, usually maintaining a certain extent of confidentiality in your work to keep the surprise.

He seems to take the hint, almost nodding indirectly at you and more toward the wall, as he finally saunters out of the room with his hands still in his pockets, his strides painfully slow as he disappears from your sight.

And when you look back to the painting, you cock your head at his outline, trying to gauge whether your art properly captures the sheer sense of unnerve he instills in you with his features alone.

Painting sessions are burdensome. They require a lot of planning ahead of time, stocking up on supplies, scheduling around the hours-long timeframe and of course, the mental preparation of having to be stared at by rich men for several hours.

But perhaps critique sessions are even worse these days.

Your paintings are typically set in stone after the initial outlines, considering there are usually a few important figures who review your work and give you the go ahead to take it home and finish it.

Yet sometimes, you still have people complaining, pointing out unimportant features like the color of their sneakers which aren’t to their liking. It’s normally Q who fights these battles for you, refusing to allow you to make any changes since the payments are made upfront, too. But sometimes, even he caves, ordering you to pull out your briefcase and mix a darker shade of green or add more volume to the subject’s hair.

It’s the worst with investors, who put their audacity at the same level as their incomes. But with boy groups like this, you’re unsure, having never done a painting for a band prior to this one.

The finished canvas is transported in a nylon zip-up bag, held by yourself and Q as you fit it inside the truck and secure it with metal prongs. While the drive there is just an hour long, it feels much longer than the last time you traveled there, perhaps because you’re much more nervous.

And perhaps also, it’s because of the same strange man as last time, who you already know is going to have a mouthful to say. The way he lingered by your work station a little too long, wouldn’t stop staring and even excused himself from his own break early to resume his insufferable task of making you uncomfortable. You reckon it’ll be a comment about his hair, asking for a longer length or more volume. Maybe something about the stage outfit you were presented with and how it doesn’t make his legs look long enough. Or knowing his douchebag tendencies, maybe he won’t hesitate to ask for a fucking bulge in his pants at this point.

When you arrive, Q calls over the building staff to help transport the collosal work of art, while you wait awkwardly on the side with your hands shoved in your pockets. You take a moment to crane your neck and look up at the building, a tall glass monument with blue-tinted windows and cobalt text that displays the company name. It’s just as intimidating as you remembered it, instilling the same unnerving feeling that a hospital might.

When the building staff are finally making their way inside, you follow reluctantly, making yourself as small as possible behind them while they navigate the long blinding corridors. It’s an unusual feeling to be at the top floor of the building that you were just looking up at from the street below, and as you pass the windows that line the hallways, you can make out the rows of cars and people that now resemble ants from this high up. It’s as though you were never down there to begin with, like the world is different from up here, much more secluded and shut-in.

And seeing the pin boards that line the walls, with photos of successful artists and flyers for company events, it very well might be, this haunting building where dreams either go to flourish or decay.

Into the last door on the right, eight chairs lined up for eight artists who definitely seem to have flourished. The building staff set up the canvas at the front of the room, securing it into its wooden easel, and Q occupies himself setting up a recording camera which points directly at the painting and captures all eight chairs in the frame. It’s common protocol for events like these to be filmed, not always for public consumption, but for the staff to archive important commemorative moments in the artist’s name. Once the camera is rolling, Q gives you a thumbs up, gesturing to the staff to permit their exit as you make your way to the front with him.

“Ready?” He asks, clasping his hands together as he eyes the camera nervously. You say nothing in response, giving him a small nod, before taking your spot on the other side of the canvas and folding your hands behind your back.

For a few moments of complete silence, the two of you keep your gazes fixed on the clock that lives on the wall across you, the hands ticking with the passing seconds as you await the arrival of the band. Q turns to say something, seemingly disregarding it as he turns back to the wall and shifts his eyes to the door every few moments.

You wish he wouldn’t be so… anticipatory. You wish he’d just stand there, like a rock, indicating nothing of importance, so that you could put less weight into this and unveil the painting to them without any reservations.

Here’s the painting, you want to say. It took me forever, so don’t criticize it. You guys are shorter than my usual subjects. Except for the weirdo- and he stares too much.

You smile to yourself at the thought of being so candid with them, before an abrupt push of the door startles you, and you instantly straighten your posture at the sounds of boots clicking along the floor, leading the eight men who live on the canvas behind you.

One by one they take their seats, dressed to the nines this time in black slacks and collared button ups. They even flaunt ties, mirroring the businessmen you’re used to painting, and the fancy attire quickly makes you nervous as they fold their hands in their laps and fail to joke around like they did the last time.

“Welcome,” a booming voice says, as other important looking figures stand around the room and eye the covered canvas. “It’s a pleasure to have you here, and we’re eager to see what you’ve come up with.”

Applause fills the room, inclusive of the members of the band, which you finally allow yourself to look at. They sit properly, hands folded in their laps and serious expressions painted on their chiseled faces.

Except for the strange one, again, whose gaze is locked on yours. He cocks an eyebrow curiously, as though you’re the one doing the staring. And you quickly turn your attention back to Q, hoping that disregarding the men will calm your nerves a little.

“… she’s paid particular attention to detail,” Q continues, and you realize you’ve missed half his speech already.

“And we are so excited to hang her work in this renowned building as a commemorative piece for the members. Without further ado, please let’s unveil the artwork.”

As he finishes, two members of the staff tug on the beige cloth, letting it fall to the tiled floor beneath it and expose the giant portrait.

Their faces light up instantly, little “woah’s” filling the room as they rise from their seats to take a better look. They laugh at their own figures, they point out each other's and most of them even pull out their cellphones to snap photos of your art. It’s always a gratifying feeling, having a crowd admire the fruits of your labor this way, especially when you aren’t immediately met with verbal protest against your creative choices.

You take a few steps back to give some room to them, the staff talking amongst themselves and gesturing to the building where you presume they speak about where the painting will live.

“It’s a hit,” Q says, coming around to tap you lightly on the arm. “You should be very proud of yourself.”

“Thanks, Quinton,” you respond. “I’m glad everyone enjoys it.”

And the staff applaud you once more, bowing to you and lining up to shake your hand as they begin to file out of the room again.

The members stick around for a good while, unable to take their eyes off the painting as they point out each other's features and admire their own. And as they begin to leave, several of them thank you personally on the way out, giving you a bow and shaking your hand.

“Thank you, really,” the man you remember being the group leader says to you. “We are so honored to have worked on this with you.”

Another clasps your hand in his, bowing several times before speaking. “Seungmin,” he states his name politely. “Thank you, I think you really did our old group leader justice.”

“Hey!” The leader calls, and you can’t help but laugh a little in response.

The others share similar sentiments, bowing and shaking your hand as they exit, chatting excitedly amongst themselves as they make their way down the hall for their next schedule.

And when you turn to face Q, you’re met with the last member, who folds his arms in front of him coldly and eyes the painting with raised eyebrows.

Like clockwork. He doesn’t like it, he’s going to request a change be made to it and he’s going to berate you in front of your own boss.

“It’s nice,” he chimes in casually from where he’s standing.

“Thanks,” you reply, Q gathering the cover from the floor and zipping it up again.

“Just one thing,” he says now, turning to face you.

“Oh, we normally don’t make changes after-”

“I have a freckle under my eye,” he finishes. “The left eye. You didn’t catch it.”

Your eyes scan the painting, where his chiseled face and long hair stare back at you, a serious expression in his eyes like he wears in person. And then you glance at him standing in front of you again, a small brown mole under his left eye, just like he speaks of.

“Go ahead and add it,” Q says, as he zips up the cover. “That should be on there already.”

And you nod your head at both of them, unzipping your briefcase again to retrieve your paints. He’s watching you like a hawk again, towering over your bent figure as you pull out a thin tube of brown paint and squeeze just a miniscule dollop onto the back of your hand. You retrieve your thinnest paint brush, dipping it into the paint and swiping it across your skin to rid the excess from the fine hairs.

It feels as though you have to paint it with his permission, as you bring the brush to his face and glance over at him for instruction. He gestures to his eye, motioning for you to start, as you bring the brush to his canvas flesh and tap on a tiny, single dot.

He stares at it for a moment, cocking his head as though a brown dot somehow won’t be to his liking. And even Q holds his breath while he waits for a comment from the man. You begin to say something, your lips parting silently, stuck on what to remark as you await his feedback. And then with bated breath, he finally speaks, giving a small nod as he does.

“Good,” he says simply. “It’s me now.”

Q nods at him, nods at you, and then gathers your belongings as you cap the loose tube of paint.

“Do you have a card?” The man asks suddenly, and Q pauses his shuffling about to retrieve one from his coat pocket.

“Here’s her card,” he says, against your silent protests. “She’s available for commission any time. Payments are up front and scheduling is through me only.”

The man nods, thumbing the gold foil cardstock in his slender fingers, and then shoves it into the pocket of his slacks.

“Hyunjin,” he says curtly, reaching his hand out to yours. “I’m the main dancer.”

And you just nod, placing your hand in his reluctantly as you shake once.

“Y/n.”

His hands are cold to the touch, the metal of his rings feeling like blocks of ice in your grasp. He holds it there for a moment, his narrowed eyes shooting daggers into yours, before he finally pulls away and pivots to leave with the rest of the band.

And you can only catch a glimpse of the back of his head when he’s halfway out, before Q turns to speak to you.

“Looks like we may be back very soon,” he remarks, latching your briefcase once more. “I’d hold on to that brown paint if I were you.”

Exactly four days pass before you hear from Hyunjin again. In fact, you’ve all but forgotten about the little run-in, until Q barges into your studio while you add the finishing touches to another client’s piece.

“I have a proposal for you,” Q voices, setting an iced coffee on the table beside you while you dip your paintbrush in a muddy cup of water.

“What is it?”

“Well financially, a massive opportunity. Career-wise, much of the same thing you’re already doing.”

“Businessmen?” You question, working your paintbrush in thin strokes to add hair to the figure on the canvas.

“Band,” he replies simply. “The same band you did last week. Just one member, though.”

And you know instantly who he speaks of, your face contorting into an expression of disgust as you wash your paint in the cup of water once more.

“Hyunjin?” You query.

“That’s him,” he says, snapping his fingers as the name comes back to him. “He’s offering double what we paid last, and just for an individual piece. That’s a massive markup from what we usually charge.”

“I don’t know,” you reply hesitantly. “I’m pretty busy with this, and we-”

“I already said yes,” he states simply.

“You did? What- I thought this was a proposal.”

“Yeah,” he says with a scoff. “A proposal to get your stuff ready. We start tomorrow. And he wants you to bring every color you’ve got.”

“Tomorrow? Don’t we already have a prior commitment?”

“Already moved them out,” Q says, sitting on the chair across from you.

“Look,” he begins, sighing deeply. “I know you’re hesitant about these things. But this is the best move you can do, career-wise. Painting these famous figures is a gold mine for us. One day you could be commissioned to paint royalty, and then we’ll be reaping three times our salary.”

And you sigh, too, knowing very well that he’s right. Being a painter who gets commissioned to commemorate important characters, you know the best thing you can do for yourself is say yes to every opportunity. You’re very seldom able to, which is why you have Q in the first place. But the prospect of spending another day with Hyunjin scares you, and you’re not sure Q would consider it a legitimate concern if you brought it up to him.

“I’ll be there, too,” Q interrupts, almost as though he can read your mind. “It’s just him. One day, max, and then you can pick up your other projects.”

It doesn’t seem like there will be a way out of this one, no matter how much you pray that things will fall through eventually.

“One day,” you echo. “And then I’m tunnel vision on the rest of my projects.”

You can tell Hyunjin’s thought about this very carefully, judging by the way he saunters into the room with purposeful strides and slings a bag off his shoulder.

He’s dressed a little more casually today in a denim jacket and jeans, with layered silver jewelry that contrasts nicely against his jet black hair.

“Like a model headshot, but painted,” he describes his vision to you, gesturing with his hands as he speaks.

“I want it to look really serious. And maybe a cool-toned color palette.”

He’s meticulous with his requests, and you wonder briefly if he dabbles in art, himself.

“Sure, we can do that,” Q responds, jotting down a few points in a small notepad.

You say nothing, letting Q do all the talking, but Hyunjin’s eyes glance over at you briefly like he wants you to acknowledge the request. So you just nod graciously, giving him a thin-lipped smile, and begin to undo your briefcase.

Hyunjin assumes his same spot on one of the wooden stools, dragging it closer to you by its leg and propping it within eye-view of your big canvas. And then he sits on it, or rather slouches, adjusting his gaze to look straight at you and maintain a cold, serious expression.

It’s just as unnerving as you’d remembered it, having this model-looking figure pierce daggers through your soul while you mix your paints- cool-toned ones, at his request, and prepare for the hour-long trek of capturing his essence.

At least you won’t have to talk to him- or so you’d assumed from the last session you completed with him.

“What’s your process like?” He asks, his sultry voice perfectly matching his features.

“Oh,” you remark, mixing a set of paints to mirror his even skin tone. “I don’t know, I just paint what I see.”

He nods, satisfied with your less-than-wordy answer, and then he begins to prod you with more questions.

“What are your favorite art supplies?”

You cock an eyebrow at this, well aware that you have a long list you can indulge him in, but not wanting to share your secrets with this complete stranger.

“I dunno,” you reply softly. “Oil paints, and graphite pencils really.”

Hyunjin nods again, and then he glances at Q, who gives him a thin-lipped smile much like yours, trying his hardest to remain polite with Hyunjin. You know Q is likely frustrated with you for not entertaining this conversation in a more lively manner, especially considering what he paid for this session, but you’re not going to indulge him in anything except painting him- and only for this one session, like you promised Q.

And the rest of the session is uneventful, Hyunjin poking you with questions about your personal favorite paintings or inquiring about a time you messed up on an important piece. All questions which are answered with brief “I don’t know’s” or “there are so many, I can’t choose.”

And although you are trying hard to keep Hyunjin at a distance, nothing seems to faze him, his head nods and little hums serving as indicators of his satisfaction with all of your answers. He doesn’t get pushy, like your other clients often do, and he even presses Q for a few answers as he makes sense of your work.

At just past 5, the session draws to a close, as Hyunjin rises from his stool and announces he has to tend to his evening dance practice.

“It’s nice seeing you again,” Hyunjin says as he approaches you, giving a small bow as Q waits off to the side.

“Thank you,” you voice back, glancing at Q for a push to leave.

And Hyunjin extends a single hand, gesturing for you to place yours in his, as he towers over you with a curious expression.

You reluctantly place your palm in his, letting the cool metal of his rings graze your skin as he clasps his thumbs over your fingers and rubs them in gentle back and forth motions. He doesn’t bring it up for a cordial peck, he doesn’t shake it- he simply caresses your artist hands tenderly, before letting go again and turning to give Q a small bow as well.

“Take care,” Hyunjin says, pivoting to exit the room into the corridor.

And as Q pesters you with orders to clean up your workstation, you examine your own hands, rotating your own fingers around, like they might somehow be changed by his touch.

ON HOLD- The notes under your projects on the big calendar in Q’s office read, written in dark red pen and underlined twice across the pages.

You furrow your brows in confusion, setting your bag down as you enter for the day and ready your art supplies.

“What’s going on?” You ask Q, who’s busy sorting through a stack of invoices.

“Have a seat,” he replies plainly, gesturing to one of the leather chairs that accompany his grand wooden desk. And you do, sitting on the very edge of the chair as you await further instruction from him.

“A gift came for you,” Q says, slinging a large box on the desk in front of you.

You stand up once again, peering inside at the myriad of oil paints, sharpened charcoal pencils, new smocks, palettes and even books about artists and their works. You dig through the supplies, heart racing at the expensive choices, feeling undeserving of all the presents the box contains.

“This is all for me?” You question, baffled at the prospect that anybody could care enough about your career to indulge you in such a fine assortment of goods.

“Read the card,” Q then says, his arms folded in front of him as he nods toward the top of the cardboard box, where a simple yellow envelope is taped to the cover, cursive text scribbled on the front. Hyunjin, it reads.

You undo the seal, pulling out the small card inside, which only contains a short, cold sentence, in contrast to the warm gift.

“For the next few”, it says, not so much as a sign off or even a simple “thanks”.

“Next few?” You repeat, meeting Q’s gaze with a confused expression.

Q sighs, sitting across from you, folding his hands out on the wooden surface where you can see them.

“His manager called this morning,” he begins. “And commissioned us for another one. Except this one has a long set of rules. He wants you to use these supplies, he wants to visit your studio instead of occupy the company building. And he specifically asked me not to accompany you.”

“What?” You exclaim, angered at the sheer audacity he has, and knowing very well that you only agreed to one painting.

“That’s completely against our rules,” you continue. “Did you tell him no?”

And Q gives you a sheepish grin, gesturing to the stack of papers he flipped through earlier. “They’re offering quadruple the pay,” he says sternly. “He’s obsessed with your work.”

“So what?” You argue. “I have a ton of other projects to finish. And I’m not throwing all of that away because some guy wants time alone with the artist.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting alone time with an artist,” Q emphasizes.

“This is a huge sacrifice, Quinton. I wish you would’ve run this by me earlier.”

Your eyes meet the calendar above his desk again, counting the number of projects with a big ON HOLD scribbled below them. Q sighs, evidently feeling a little guilty for his own actions, and then pinches his wireframe glasses between his fingers, pulling them off his face and tucking them into the pocket of his blazer.

“I’m willing to give you 10% more than what you already make from these.”

Your gaze snaps to his, a bewildered expression on your face as you process his words.

“What- seriously? Quinton, that’s-”

“His company’s loaded” he says with a shrug. “The guy is so much bigger than I thought he was. People love him.”

And your gaze flickers between the calendar and the big red text, Quinton’s hopeful stare and at the box of new art supplies you’ll be required to work with.

Q doesn’t need to press you for verbal confirmation, knowing that the caress of your fingers over Hyunjin’s name on the envelope serves as answer enough.

Your studio is particularly messy on Wednesdays, housing all of the project paraphernalia from the days prior. Today is no exception, canvases that sit on easels lining the walls and cans of paint thinner spread out on the tarps. You make your best attempt at shoving everything against the wall, creating a clear pathway for Hyunjin to stride into the way he always does. And you set up your canvas prior to his arrival, getting all of your necessary supplies in place to avoid the awkward few moments of setting up while he watches you so intently.

He’s a punctual idol if you’ve ever met one, arriving at 5pm on the dot, expensive-looking sunglasses shielding his eyes from the barely visible sunlight outside, and a black beanie pulled over his head. He looks like he could be a security guard of his own, the all-black attire even more unsettling as he makes his way inside.

There’s a reason you never house clients in your own studio- the reason being it’s small. It’s office-sized, large glass windows on one side of the wall that overlook a sea of greenery that’s now overgrown with all the recent rains. The floor is gray concrete, stained just about everywhere with swatches of paint and charcoal pieces. And the two tabled surfaces that are available are covered in art supplies, the color of the furniture now indistinguishable as they house tubes of paint, brushes and cans of thinner.

“You can put your bag on the chair there,” you say as he walks in, his hands still shoved in his pockets.

He does as told, setting a designer crossbody on the folding chair by one of the tables, and then he stands confidently, observing the room as he awaits further instruction.

He takes long strides around the perimeter of the room, leaning closely into the existing canvases to study your techniques. But he says nothing, remaining much quieter than last time, the only sound coming from his heeled boots as he moves elegantly around the studio.

“I’m ready,” you say, and Hyunjin turns around to face you. He cocks his head slightly, and then he brings one hand up to pull the beanie off his head, letting his brown tresses fall loosely around his handsome face, not requiring much adjustment as they seem to fall in disarray so perfectly. He pulls his sunglasses off as well, folding them between his plump lips before tucking them into the pocket of his jeans as he finally stops to look at you.

He looks as handsome as he always does, his unreal features looking as though he was modeled by a painting and not the other way around. You feel small in front of him, and unimportant, as he approaches you and stops just in front of your much smaller figure.

“How do you want me?” Hyunjin asks, cuffing up the sleeves of his black knit sweater.

“It’s up to you,” you reply to him, giving a small shrug as you speak.

“This one’s your call,” Hyunjin retorts. “I want it from the artist’s vision.”

And you can’t help the blush that creeps up on your cheeks, feeling embarrassingly flustered at the idea of someone caring even slightly about your vision. Everything’s from your client’s vision- the outfits, the poses, even the adjustments they request following the painting’s unveiling. It’s very seldom that you’re able to provide any directions to the standard of your vision, and though it’s unexpected, it’s a little endearing.

“My vision?” You echo, tapping your fingers on your chin.

You glance around the room at the supplies you have on hand, nothing special, but definitely materials you can work with.

Without replying to him, you pull forward one of the folding chairs, setting it down in front of your easel and gesturing to it.

“Could you sit on the top part? Like, on the back of the chair?”

Hyunjin nods, climbing up onto the chair and balancing as he takes a seat on the back part. It’s a little unstable looking, but Hyunjin seems to manage just fine, spreading his legs casually and running his hands through his hair.

“Your hands,” you chime in, taking note of the silver watch he flaunts on his left wrist. “Could you rest them on your knees?”

“Like this?” Hyunjin questions, sprawling his palms out over his kneecaps.

“Not quite,” you reply. “A little more like…”

And then without warning, you take both his hands in yours, positioning his elbows to rest atop his kneecaps so that his hands hang loosely in front of him. He cocks his face up to meet your gaze, the same intense expression he always houses, and you take a step back to admire the position.

“Exactly like that,” you say to him. “Tell me if you get uncomfortable and we’ll take a break.”

Hyunjin shoots a small smile, perhaps more of a smirk at you, as he sits still and watches you begin to paint in long strokes along the canvas. Your movements are fluid and impetuous, but every stroke proves itself more robust than the last, painting a clear outline of Hyunjin’s seated figure as he keeps his eyes on you. And maybe it’s because you’ve chosen his pose this time, or because it’s your third time doing this with Hyunjin, but you don’t feel nearly as uncomfortable anymore, keeping your attention on the painting and disregarding any implications that might derive from his cold stare.

“I wasn’t sure which brand of oil paints you preferred,” Hyunjin says suddenly. “So I bought you three kinds.”

“Oh, yeah,” you reply softly. “Thank you for the gifts. You really didn’t have to.”

“You have a talent,” Hyunjin voices. “I hung the last one up in my own studio.”

“You have a studio?” You question, remembering Q had previously mentioned something about him being an artist.

“I do,” Hyunjin answers. “It’s nothing like this one, just some canvases in the shared dorm we have. But I paint in all my free time. If I wasn’t here right now, I’d probably be painting.”

“That’s interesting,” you reply. “I’d love to see your work someday.

And Hyunjin doesn’t hesitate to pull his phone out, navigating to his camera roll to show you some of his pieces. He flashes you a painting of a bouquet of roses, placed in a glass case atop a table. Another showcases a city street, scribbled cars and people that line the pavement. And a whole gallery of them depict people- couples, in particular, in all sorts of romantic poses. Kissing, hugging, embracing with such passion and force, almost consuming each other with their visible desperation for one another.

“They’re beautiful,” you say, in awe at the technique of his art. You weren’t expecting him to be so good, for someone who doesn’t paint as a full-time career.

“Thank you,” Hyunjin replies, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. “I’ve learned so much from you.”

“Me?” You retort with a small chuckle. “I highly doubt that, your stuff is very unique. But I’m flattered that you’d say that. Thank you.”

Hyunjin keeps his gaze on yours for a moment, cocking his head to the side as though he’s observing your features. He doesn’t say anything, his eyes narrowing and widening again as he takes in the sight of you dabbing a little more olive paint into his complexion. And then he straightens his back, steadying himself on the chair with two hands gripping the sides.

“When was the last time you left this studio?” He inquires with a smug expression. He sounds a little more serious now, and his tone of voice makes your heartbeat race.

“I don’t live here,” you reply plainly. “I leave every day.”

“When was the last time you escaped?” He then clarifies. “When was the last time you weren’t confined here for the purposes of work?”

You furrow your brows, trying your best to keep busy with your task and avert his gaze.

“This is my job,” you say sternly. “I don’t want to escape.”

“I’m a dancer,” Hyunjin states matter-of-factly. “I don’t live in the studio at the building. Sure, the bright lights and the walls of mirrors help with the choreography. But sometimes I dance in my dorm. And sometimes I dance in a big grass field when nobody’s watching.”

You pause your brushstrokes for a moment, finally meeting his gaze as he stares down at you. He raises one eyebrow, waiting for an answer, which you fail to provide him with as he leans forward once again and clasps his hands together.

“You feel trapped here, don’t you?”

And suddenly his words infuriate you, the sheer audacity of him to walk into your studio demanding all these rules from you, like your boundaries can be overlooked if they’re bought. And who is he to pry into your life like this, knowing next to nothing about you except that you’re a painter? It’s blasphemous- offensive, even.

“I’m not trapped,” you say, standing from your stool and backing away from him a little. “I love my job. I can quit whenever I want to, and this is my passion.”

“Who are you when you’re not painting these portraits?” Hyunjin inquires, and your eyebrows contort into a much angrier frown.

“Who are you to imply any of this, anyway? You’re an idol. You’re the one who’s trapped in the confines of a million rules- are you even allowed to be here right now? Who are you when you’re not putting on the mask of a completely different persona?”

You exhale frustratedly as you finish, taking a moment to catch your breath, and trying your best to avoid his gaze. But when you meet his piercing eyes again, he’s smiling, a wicked expression on his face like he’s amused at your lashing.

“I’m glad you asked ,” he says simply.

“What?”

“I’d assumed it was part of your vision, to maybe scratch below the surface of the flesh outlines you paint. I know there’s more than meets the eye to your work. You have this passion about you.”

“Passion?” You reply nervously, now fiddling with the brush still in your grasp.

“Mhm,” Hyunjin responds casually. “Like you want to lash out. Go on, get it off your chest. I won’t mind.”

And you say nothing again, shrinking back into the confines of your wooden stool as you swirl the brush around in the same mug of water and dip it back into a dollop of paint.

“I’m sorry,” you voice to him. “I don’t treat my clients like this. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Hyunjin’s shoulders sag a little, as though he was waiting for you to keep the chaos alive in this little studio. He just nods, and then he assumes the same position as earlier, his knees spread in front of him and his hands resting comfortably on his knee caps as he slouches forward.

You resume the task of shading in his skin tone, adding highlights to the elevated portions of his face and glancing over at him in intervals to confirm where the light hits him.

“I’ve learned so much from you,” Hyunjin says for the second time tonight, and you’re still unsure what he means by it. “I think we could learn a lot about each other.”

And the studio falls silent for the remainder of the session, as he allows his eyes to bore into your soul while you translate his being onto the canvas in front of you. Or at least the parts that are able to be translated.

Your calendar is blocked off for the remainder of the week for other clients, Hyunjin rescheduling his sessions as he prepares for a performance overseas.

Your heart sinks a little when Q announces the schedule change to you, secretly praying you haven’t completely ruined your artist/client relationship with Hyunjin. He’s definitely a little odd, and he can be pushy when he wants to be. But he’s undeniably more intriguing than the investors you’re used to housing at the studio, telling you stories of his dancing and inquiring about all your favorite techniques every chance he gets.

He’s the first client who’s ever uttered the word “vision” when it came to yours, and not his, and you can’t let go of the value it added to your last session with him. You had yelled at him, ordered him to stop projecting his thoughts onto yours and asking personal questions. But it was the first time you felt alive, somewhat visible to a client as you painted them. His eyes pierce through your soul, every tangible inch of it, and not just the empty shell of who you are when you’re not existing so loudly. And Hyunjin seems like the only catalyst that allows you to exist loudly these days, even Q walking all over you like you’re an extension of his tedious ways.

Although your last conversation didn’t go quite as smoothly as you’d hoped it would, Hyunjin’s words continue to circle your mind relentlessly, your heart trying to make sense of them no matter how hard you try.

“Who are you when you’re not painting these portraits?”

It’s a fair question, and it doesn’t necessarily have to be a discourteous one, either. Maybe he’s genuinely curious about the woman you are when you’re not following Q’s orders. But where has Hyunjin pulled the implication from that you’re anyone except for the person assigned to produce these portraits? You’ve given him no reason to think anything of you besides the well-mannered, focused painter you are. And to imply anything else would also, by extension, imply he knows something about you.

“I’ve learned so much about you,” he had also said to you, twice in the same session. And can one really learn from two, three sessions of watching an artist paint? Sure, if he was more focused on your technique and your mannerisms rather than staring at you so intensely. But he hadn’t seemed to be interested in much else, simply keeping his gaze on yours and asking base-level questions about your artist career.

If anything, you could learn a lot about Hyunjin, who has the whole world at his disposal and walks around this place like he owns it. He speaks of you like he’s trying to study you. He wants to learn from you, despite being the one wielding much more knowledge and wisdom than you could even begin to fathom. True, you don’t escape this studio- and you don’t utilize it without the intention to work. In fact, your work consumes you most days, your personal life just a microscopic dot in the grand scheme of this arrangement.

But Hyunjin seems to think otherwise, his generous gifts and his fascination with returning seeming to imply something else. Like he wants to learn from you, or like he’s convinced he already has.

In apprehension, like he knows you.

“Where are we going?” You query when Hyunjin arrives next, quickly ordering you to gather your supplies and ushering you to the door.

“We’re not painting here today,” he says plainly.

“What? No, Hyunjin I don’t paint anywhere except for-”

“The studio or a company,” he finishes. “That’s the issue. I want to take you somewhere more lively.”

“I can’t be around people,” you respond. “I don’t… it’ll just mess up the whole process.”

“Do you trust me?” Hyunjin asks suddenly, his hand extending out to yours for the briefcase you grasp.

What a simplified question- absolutely not. You don’t trust him, that’s the issue with leaving the studio. You’re still not sure of his career as a whole, you’re not sure why he’s so adamant about breaking all sorts of rules and you don’t know anything beyond his name.

“No,” you reply. “I don’t think I trust you at all, actually.”

And Hyunjin just smiles, stepping forward to take the briefcase from you.

“Good,” he replies, the same amused smile plastered on his face. “That means there’s still a lot I can teach you.”

He watches you slip on your coat, undeniably confused, but in a trance-like state obeying his commands, like your heart won’t let you hear your brain’s protests.

Hyunjin doesn’t drive. He doesn’t need to, having his own personal chauffeur at his beck and call, able to go just about anywhere in the evening during his allotted hours of free time. Ones he normally spends in the studio, watching you paint.

You sit quietly on one side of the fancy black car, your hands folded neatly in your lap and staring at the passing blur of city lights out the window. Hyunjin occupies the other, one of his slender hands resting atop the briefcase in an attempt to steady it whilst the driver makes sharp turns and brakes a little too harshly.

You watch as the city roads turn to one long paved road, surrounded by tall grass and trees. And this path goes on for a while, maybe 20 or 30 minutes, as you remain in comfortable silence. The driver seems to be acquainted with the road, turning every way he needs to, no form of navigation telling where to go, simply having memorized the route. And Hyunjin doesn’t seem tense in the slightest, humming softly to himself as he taps his fingers along the leather surface of the briefcase.

The fork at the end of the road signals the stopping point for the driver, who hits the brakes, but doesn’t turn the car off. The keys remain in the ignition as he comes around to open your door, guiding you out with one hand and bowing graciously to the both of you.

“One hour,” Hyunjin says to him, sliding him a generously folded bill.

The driver nods, occupying his spot in the driver’s seat, and you watch him make a U-turn before driving off down the path again.

The environment is quiet, much quieter than any spot back in the city. It’s nothing except for trees and tall grass that sway with the gentle evening breeze, the sky swallowing up a now orange sun as nighttime begins to over both of you. If you squint, you can even see the mountains from here, some of them lined with little yellow lights, probably vacant buildings or farm workers. And the birds sing their last songs of the day, mellow tunes that harmonize with the growing chirps of crickets.

“It’s pretty here,” you remark to Hyunjin, who stands looking out at the view with his hands tucked in his coat pockets.

He doesn’t reply for a moment, his long hair swaying with the breeze. And then he tilts his head in the direction of the briefcase, nodding once.

“Paint what you see,” he orders.

You nod reluctantly, scrambling to open the briefcase and set up your supplies.

“Do you want to stand there? Or… do you prefer something else?”

He smiles, a little amused at your rushed state, and then he shakes his head.

“Not me,” he clarifies. “The view. Paint what you see.”

You swallow a lump in your throat, stopping your movements and pondering the words for a moment. You haven’t painted a view in god knows how long. Your skills are rusty, your techniques are skewed and the whole concept of it makes you shudder.

“The view?” You question back. You take a moment to look at the view again- there are possibilities everywhere. Green grasses that resemble paint strokes themselves, a deepening blue sky with strokes of blues and blacks, stars like paint splatters and trees with sponge-painted bushels. The art is everywhere, the possibilities are vast and endless with a view like this one.

“The view,” Hyunjin echoes. “Don’t take it too seriously. This isn’t some company's order to paint me. I just want to see the world through your eyes.”

And you nod, once, Hyunjin helping you latch your sketch pad to the easel as you mix a myriad of blues and greens together on your wooden palette.

He flips through your sketch pad for a little while before stepping away, nodding at the pages upon pages of art unlike any of your portraits. When you think he’s going to move, he doesn’t, remaining in the same spot and nodding his head at the works. And you feel a little shy, a little confused at why he’s taken so much interest in the work you complete on the side, work completely unrelated to any of your portraits. When he reaches a blank page, he meets your gaze with a small smile, nodding his head once at you as he finally moves out of the way.

And then you finally begin, hesitantly, as Hyunjin finds a spot in an undisturbed part of the grass, sprawling his long legs out in front of him and pulling out a sketch pad from his own bag. He angles it away from you, beginning to make long, generous lines with his charcoal pencil, peering over at the trees every now and then to gauge their shape. And you remain there, a comfortable silence among both of you, as you both capture the view in your respective visions.

The technique comes back to you instantly, like motion memory, quickly sponging leaves into the trees and pulling the dark sky from its draped position over you to plaster it onto the canvas you work on. Blues, greens, glittering whites for the night stars and fantastic shades of chartreuse and viridian find their homes on the canvas, so carefully placed and mirroring the view you overlook. You emulate the shadows, the waning glints of light, even the sounds seem to live on the picturesque view where time stands still in the confines of four walls.

Hyunjin doesn’t disturb your work flow- in fact, for most of the time you remain there, you cease to remember he’s even working on a sketch of his own, his delicate figure disappearing among the trees as your peripherals shut him out and bring nature to the forefront.

It’s only an hour you’re there, like Hyunjin had promised, before he’s returning to your spot and standing behind you to look over your shoulder.

“Beautiful,” Hyunjin states dramatically. “Beautiful, and spectacular, and shining.”

You chuckle lightly, wiping the brush on your smock and tucking it away in one of the front pockets.

“Will you sign it?” Hyunjin asks, cocking his head a little to try to find where your signature currently sits, but finding nothing.

“Oh, yeah,” you respond, bringing a charcoal pencil to the bottom right and scribbling a quick signature.

He scans the painting once more, tracing a finger over the corner where you’ve added your signature, and then he gives a small nod before meeting your gaze.

“This one’s my favorite,” Hyunjin tells you. “Because it’s entirely your vision.”

“The ones I make of you are my vision, too,” you explain, and Hyunjin shakes his head with a small smile.

“I like how you see the world. Not how you see me. Or anybody else, for that matter.”

And you find yourself blushing again, unsure if his intention is to fluster you with his poetic words, but well aware that he’s having the effect on you regardless.

“Thank you,” you echo politely. “I like this one, too.”

Your gazes remain fixed on each other for a brief moment, the grass now standing still as the night falls over you, stars glittering in the black sky and the crickets singing their nocturnal songs.

For the first time since meeting him, Hyunjin looks less cold at this proximity to you, his entire demeanor exuding softness and comfort as he smiles at you. Maybe it’s the black puffer coat he wears, the collar pulled up to his chin to keep warm from the frigid winter night around you. He wears his glasses, too, these ones a thicker black frame, pushed high up on his face and a little dorky, admittedly. But it’s also because he seems kinder, more warm and welcoming. There’s no existing rush to capture him any which way- in fact, there’s no pressure to capture him at all. And maybe when you’re not translating his model-like appearance onto canvas, you’re able to step back and admire that he’s soft under his hard exterior, he’s so gentle and human.

At first, you debate telling him, a sudden urge inside of you to apologize for your presumptions of him and admit that he’s slowly become your favorite client to be around. Maybe he’s right- maybe you do have a lot you can teach each other. He lives a life of lavishness, entertaining varying aspects of his idol career and serving a role of great importance to those who know him. And he is certainly of importance to your career, being your highest-paying customer and the one you’ve painted the most now. But he plays a role in other parts of your life too, allowing you to try new techniques, entertain your vision, circling your mind with his poetic words and his strategic motions. All lessons which allow you to grow outside the confines of your studio, too.

But you settle on silence, not wanting Hyunjin to think too boldly of you. Maybe he’s like this with everybody he crosses paths with. Choreographers, vocal coaches and painters alike. Maybe he’s simply as fascinating as he looks.

As you study him again, the sound of a car engine interrupts you, and you turn around to find Hyunjin’s driver has returned as promised. You bring a hand up to shield your eyes from the bright headlights that illuminate the whole field, as Hyunjin helps you gather your supplies again, securing the canvas in its case and transporting it into the backseat of the car with the driver’s help.

Hyunjin holds the door for you this time, ushering you inside, and then he comes around to slide into the backseat next to you.

“I think it’s going to rain,” the driver says as he puts the car in reverse.

You crane your neck to look at the sky through the tinted windows, dark blue clouds that loom overhead and seem to make the night even colder.

“I have one more place we need to stop at,” Hyunjin says suddenly, sitting forward to make eye contact with the driver through the mirror.

The driver nods in response, as if the last location is a secret kept between them, as he begins down the dirt path again in silence.

“Ever been here?” Hyunjin questions, as he holds out a hand to guide you up the stairs. The steep concrete stairs lead to a grand crested marble doorway, a bronze statue out in front and dimly lit lamp posts that illuminate the sign overhead.

Museum of Modern Art.

“Once, a long, long time ago,” you respond. “I think I usually steer clear from galleries since I don’t show my work at them.”

Hyunjin chuckles softly, stopping at the front door and meeting the gaze of a security guard, who promptly strides over and opens the door just an inch.

Hyunjin pulls out an ID, and a folded paper of some sort, and you watch as the security examines it briefly before nodding. It’s only then that you realize the museum is closed for the evening, the only person around behind the night security, but of course that rule doesn’t apply to Hyunjin, who can get in just about anywhere with the flash of a smile.

“It’s the only way to visit with no one else around,” Hyunjin says, confirming your theory. “They let me stay as long as I want. Sometimes I draw here.”

You nod at his words, giving a small smile as the security eyes you intensely, and then he opens the door to guide both of you inside. Hyunjin removes his coat, slinging it over a nearby coat hanger, and he flaunts a white knit sweater with his dark jeans, looking cozy in contrast to the dark winter night outside. He holds your sketch pad tucked under one arm, and then he skips excitedly to a room behind a curtain.

“This one’s my favorite!” He exclaims, giggling softly like a child might. “Do you know they’re all made out of recycled materials?”

And you brush the curtain aside, being met with the sculptures he speaks of, neutral-toned figurines that appear to be made of paper mache, all resembling people. Their forms hold each other, mimic ballroom dancing, and even embrace each other in a tender kiss as they stand tall in the center of the room.

You watch as Hyunjin snaps a few photos with his cellphone, craning his neck to view them at a better angle, and then he turns to face you.

“What do you think?” Hyunjin asks.

“They’re beautiful,” you reply. “They kind of remind me of your drawings.”

He shoots you a flustered smile in response, touched that you’ve even remembered what his drawings look like. And then he graciously bows as he ushers to another room.

“I think you’ll like the next one.”

The next room behind another dark curtain is a gallery of paintings, all of them abstract forms of art that experiment with different colors and mediums. You take a while in this room, sauntering down the row of canvases and observing how each one captures something completely different from the others. Some include only cool-toned shades, their strokes much smaller and overall more somber. Some play with warm tones, long generous strokes that capture passion and heat. And some mix both, two stories dancing in harmony on one canvas, contrasting light with shadow and love with regret.

As you cock your head slightly, observing the way the colors are so evocative from this proximity, Hyunjin comes to stand next to you, cocking his head in a similar fashion and taking in the same details that you do. And if someone were to stand behind you, maybe both of you would mirror the painting, too, two hues of life and recluse working in perfect harmony alongside each other.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Hyunjin asks, and you hum in response.

“Yeah. I love these colors.”

Hyunjin nods, giving the painting a last once-over before nodding in the direction of another curtain.

“Come on, I want to show you this last one.”

The last room houses a little bench, where Hyunjin occupies the left side and pats the spot next to him. You take a seat, your hands folded neatly in your lap, as you observe the colossal painting in front of you.

It’s a watercolor painting, one amorphous shape at a far distance, yet at this proximity, the tangible outline of a figure, sat with legs pulled to the chest and crouched in a position evoking such sadness.

The cold blue hues highlight the shadows which define body parts among the pile of limbs, the curve of a breast, the almost indistinguishable outline of a leg, aspects you have to really squint hard to make out. But the colors complement each other so artistically, and the figure in the painting looks so melancholy, so longing for something more than the confines of the canvas she lives on.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Hyunjin voices, and you nod, swallowing as you remain quiet.

He pauses for a moment, his voice hitching in the back of his throat, before speaking again.

“The artist was a child prodigy,” he begins. “Apparently they painted all their life and then became a sort of recluse into adulthood. No one’s seen a painting from them since. This was their last big project.”

“Interesting,” you remark quietly.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin replies. “And their art is always titled around themes of loneliness and solitude. Every painting kind of feels like a puzzle piece leading up to their disappearance from the art world.”

Hyunjin says nothing as your eyes dart around the room, swallowing nervously as you ponder what to say. And nothing comes to mind, nothing that won’t make you seem crazy, or irate.

And then before you can protest his actions, he flips open your sketch pad he’s kept tucked under his arm all this time, flipping through a few pages until he’s nearly at the end. He stops at one of your paintings, cool aqua hues filling the paper in the same manner as the one hung on the wall.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” Hyunjin finally says, and you realize he’s turned to face you now.

You stand up at this point, smoothing down your blouse and turning away from his gaze.

“Sorry, I have to go-”

You search for an exit, unable to locate one amidst the dark curtains and the dimly lit room. And the only thing you can think to do is walk back the way you entered, beginning back through the abstract painting gallery as Hyunjin follows behind you.

“They’re amazing,” Hyunjin says. “You have a talent. Your paintings were always my favorite-”

“Please, stop,” you interrupt, your heart beating erratically as you make your way past the paper mache sculptures.

“Why did you stop making them?” He asks, now standing still in the entrance, the security guard on high alert as he watches Hyunjin’s stressed demeanor.

“Sorry,” you voice to the security guard, bowing to him. “I have to go, thank you so much.”

And without turning to look at Hyunjin, you push the doors open, making your way out of the museum and onto the concrete steps. It’s raining now, hard, like the driver had predicted, and you march right past his parked car to one of the taxis parked by the curb.

The cab driver takes an address from you, punching it into his navigation system as he begins to drive down the street, and you pray he can’t hear the quiet sniffles coming from you in the backseat.

As he pulls away from the curb, you glance out the window at the museum, where Hyunjin’s now shoving past the door and standing still, his hands dropped at his sides and a hurt expression on his face.

His hair falls damp around his face as he lets the sheets of rain wash over him, his driver exiting the vehicle in a rush to get Hyunjin back into the safety of the car.

But he remains there, unmoving, his hurt gaze fixed on yours, as you turn a corner and fall out of his sight.

And just like the sessions were uneventful before Hyunjin, they’re much more uneventful after him, too.

Putting the sessions on hold for Hyunjin is nothing, his life full of vibrancy and color when he’s not spending an hour or two with you in the evening posing for a painting. It’s time he fills with extra dance practice, vocal training, spending time with his members and even doing art of his own.

But for you, it means returning to a life of mediocrity, requesting stock brokers to angle their big heads in a more appealing manner so you can capture every one of their unsightly features. You’re ogled at by salesmen, disrespected by accountants and not a single one of them could give a shit about your vision.

A part of you wants to call Hyunjin and apologize, to explain that he was out of line in his approach to identify you and catch you so off-guard. But you’re mostly angry at him, for having ruined something so beautiful you took pride in every week. Now he’s gone, the sessions put on pause until further notice and your life forever changed by Hyunjin, though he’ll keep living his life of lavishness despite being the source of all your pain.

“Now that we don’t have Hyunjin on the books after this week, I need you to resume the work on Mr. Lee’s painting. Let’s not lose sight of the ones we started prior to his pieces,” Q says, as he flips through a clipboard of printed schedules.

“This week?” You echo in question. “I thought sessions with Hyunjin were put on hold until further notice.”

“They were,” he responds. “After your last session this week. He’ll be here tomorrow evening. He’s your last client of the day.”

“Tomorrow?” You repeat, pausing your brush strokes as you turn to look at him. “He requested to come in tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Q replies with furrowed brows. “Why, is there a problem? I already told him yes.”

“No, that’s fine,” you reply, rotating the brush around in your fingers as you think over his words. “Tomorrow works fine.”

Despite the sessions being put on hold, you’ll still have a moment to explain yourself to Hyunjin and make amends. It might not get you exactly where you were before all of this, but the thought of letting Hyunjin part ways thinking you despise him makes your stomach turn. You’ll still get a moment alone with him to rekindle the state of your friendship.

… Or so you thought. When you arrive at the studio the next day for your last session, Q is still there, organizing papers at one of the tables and still dressed in a fancy blazer and tie like he never left from this morning’s session.

“Quinton?” You call, setting your purse down and toying with the hem of your shirt.

“Yes?” He responds, not looking up at you.

“Are you… don’t you normally sit these sessions out?”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” he says casually. “I’ll be sitting in on this last one. I know they were put on hold pretty abruptly, and I wanted to be around for your last one.”

You give him a small nod, protesting his actions mentally. You won’t get a minute alone with Hyunjin after all- not with Q watching you like a hawk. You want to scream at him, to tell him he has to leave and that he’ll be permanently disrupting the client-artist relationship you’ve developed with your highest-paying customer if he stays and taints the room with his overwhelming presence. But he largely determines the success of your career, whether you like it or not. And requesting Q’s absence will most certainly point to something more going on between you and Hyunjin.

“Right,” you reply. “That’s fine.”

You wish Quinton wouldn’t be so… mechanical. You wish he could trust that you’ll get the job done, despite any existing tensions between you and Hyunjin. You wish he wouldn’t pretend to care about being present, when in reality you know he just wants to make sure it wasn’t you who screwed something up. And you wish he would leave you alone with Hyunjin to make amends the way you know you need to before you part ways with him.

When the door opens once again, you both turn your heads to look at Hyunjin, who strolls in with casual strides, his hands stuffed in his pockets. His gaze falls on Q, and he furrows his brows together, finally looking at you, with a confused expression on his face.

“Welcome!” Q says obnoxiously. “I’ll be sitting in for this session, I hope you don’t mind.”

Hyunjin shoots him a thin-lipped smile, giving a subtle nod as he slings his bag off.

“Sure,” he replies. “That’s fine.”

He assumes his spot on the same wooden stool, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap, and then he turns to meet your gaze.

“How do you want me?” Hyunjin asks. He sounds more somber than the other times he’d asked the same question, his voice trailing off a little as he waits for a reply.

“This is good,” you say, taking your own seat and beginning to work light strokes across the canvas. You start with his jawline, the same chiseled jawline you’ve gotten so used to painting, working a robust angle where the crook of his neck meets his cheeks. Then his eyes, the piercing intensity of them, narrowing involuntarily as he poses with such skill, the same eyes which have graced the covers of magazines and album covers. His lips, plump and rosy, forming a small pout as he remains silent. And the outline of his luscious brown tresses, which fall beautifully around his face and soften the rest of his features.

He looks so enchanting this evening, like he’s straight out of one of the paintings at the museum. And your anger feels almost completely dissipated once he’s in front of you like this, just a pressing urge to be alone with him so you can communicate properly.

“Looking good,” Q says as he comes up behind you, his hands folded behind his back.

Hyunjin’s eyes dart over at Q’s standing figure, glancing over at you again while you paint. You attempt to shoot him an apologetic expression, wanting to tell him it wasn’t your idea to have Q here watching your every move. But you can’t properly convey your emotions to him with Q practically breathing down your neck.

“Beautiful work”, Q chimes in, nodding as you add the color to Hyunjin’s hair.

You can feel yourself getting frustrated with him, wishing so badly you could at least ask him to wait on the other side of the room like he normally does. But he remains there, crowding around you as you work and filling the room with his awkward presence.

“I’ll drag up a chair,” Q says with a small chuckle. “So I don’t have to stand.”

And both you and Hyunjin watch as he pulls up a folding chair, dragging it along the floor in one painfully slow motion, the sound of the legs screeching against the concrete floor as he places it next to you and takes a seat.

Hyunjin’s eyes meet yours again, cocking his head slightly as though he’s asking why you’ve allowed Q to be so overbearing today. But none of this is according to your plans, either.

“Go on,” Q urges. “You don’t have to wait for me.”

You hadn’t even realized you’ve stopped painting, grasping your brush between your fingers as you watch Q adjust in his seat and gesture to the painting.

“I think we should take a break,” Hyunjin says finally. “My leg is cramping a little.”

“Of course,” Q echoes back. “We can take five. There’s a vending machine out by the front door. And the bathrooms are on the right, by the-”

Q can’t even finish his sentence before Hyunjin’s shoving his way past the door, taking long strides away from the studio and waiting outside. He pinches the bridge of his nose in deep annoyance, letting out a deep sigh as he ponders the evening’s events so far.

“I’m going to use the restroom,” you tell Q, setting your brush down and following Hyunjin. “I’ll be right back.”

And you follow his footsteps, pushing on the door to meet him outside, where he stands with one hand on his hip, the other massaging his temples frustratedly.

He looks angry, as you predict he would be, but you approach him anyway, fiddling with your thumbs as he stays quiet for a moment.

“I organized this last session to speak with you,” Hyunjin says in an annoyed tone. “I should’ve known you’d invite him.”

“I didn’t invite him,” you say quickly. “I didn’t even know he’d be here, I swear. He just stayed, and he was insistent on sitting in.”

Hyunjin finally drops his hand at his side, meeting your gaze, a softening expression on his face.

“I didn’t mean to scare you off,” he finally says. “I overstepped my boundaries. I’m just here to pay you for art. Not prod into your personal life.”

“I know,” you say back. “I wanted to explain to you, but…” your voice trails off, remembering this is technically your last session with him. And judging by the way everyone speaks of him, it’ll be near impossible to contact him again after this.

“It seems like I missed my chance,” you finish, referencing Q’s persistence.

Hyunjin glances around for a moment at the overgrown plants that line the studio windows, still damp from the evening rain. It looks like a jungle out here, the plants providing no clear view through the windows and instilling such a peaceful sense of privacy.

“Could you stay a little longer?” Hyunjin questions. “After he leaves. I just want to talk to you before I go.”

You think over his proposal for a moment- Quinton is punctual at leaving right past the hour mark. He never stays longer for hours than he needs to, but he’s no stranger to you utilizing the studio to finish up some of your work after hours.

“Sure,” you say finally. “Just pretend you’ve left after the session and I’ll tell him I need to stay longer. Don’t wait near the parking lot or he’ll see you.”

A somber smile grows on Hyunjin’s face as he nods in response.

“I’m going to call my driver and tell him I’ll be longer than the original session. Meet you back inside.”

And you make your way back into the studio, where Q is busy shuffling through papers at the table.

“Ready?” He asks, already taking strides back to his stool, positioned far too close to your canvas and Hyunjin’s seat.

“Yeah,” you reply, sighing a little as he occupies the seat next to you and glances around the room for Hyunjin.

“He’s taking a phone call,” you explain to Q. “Just give him a minute.”

And Q pushes his glasses further up his nose, humming in response as he observes your painting again.

“You’ve really mastered his features,” he comments, scanning over Hyunjin’s painted outline. “Even his eye mole is already there.”

And you scan the painting too, at the little mole painted just below Hyunjin’s left eye as he requested.

“Yeah,” you reply. “I guess I have.”

You wouldn’t forget it, because everything about him occupies your mind, much like his figure lives on your canvases.

It’s just half an hour more before you’re finished with Hyunjin’s painting. It’s still lacking some detail, like the contours along his face and the buttons of his cardigan. But they’re all details you give yourself time to finish later, before you wrap up your final piece and gift it to Hyunjin.

Q is relentless in his micromanaging for the remainder of the session, making useless comments about your techniques and asking Hyunjin about his own work. Hyunjin’s answers are all short and echo his clear annoyance, desperate to finish the session in order to speak with you privately. But you both remain collected in your manners, graciously conversing with Q and reaching the end of the session.

Q reviews his invoice documents as Hyunjin slings his bag on once more, standing by the door as though he’s ready to leave.

“Payment was finalized today, and your sessions are on hold until your tour is completed.”

“Thank you,” Hyunjin responds, bowing graciously. “It was a pleasure to work with both of you. I’ll be back when we’re done overseas.”

“Don’t hesitate to reach out!” Q calls, as Hyunjin makes his way past the door. He waves Q off with a small smile and then turns the corner until he’s out of sight.

“Well, there goes your best-paying client,” Q remarks with a deep sigh. “We have a lot more to pick back up on. I know Mr. Lee’s paintings are still in progress-”

“Thank you, Quinton,” you voice to him. “We’ll talk scheduling tomorrow. Please just get home safely.”

“You’re not leaving yet?” He queries, already pulling on his canvas bag and hanging his clipboard from a thumbtack on the wall.

“I’m going to finish the details while I still remember them. I’ll only be an hour longer.”

Q shrugs, making his way pivoting on his white canvas sneakers and giving you a small wave.

“Call if you need anything,” he says plainly. “Make sure to lock up.”

“I will,” you echo, craning your neck as you watch him finally exit past the door and jog down the stairs. You can’t see Hyunjin anywhere, but Q doesn’t seem to notice him if he’s still around, starting his car and speeding out of the parking lot.

And not even a full minute passes before Hyunjin makes his way back inside, shaking water off his hands.

“I stood under one of the gutters,” he says in a disgusted tone. His hair is stringy wet with rain water, and he chuckles when you meet his gaze with an amused smile.

“You’ll have to let me paint it like that, someday,” you respond, and he laughs lightly.

You take a seat on the folding chair previously occupied by Q, and Hyunjin assumes his same spot on the wooden stool. For a moment he says nothing, observing your face as you tap your fingers along the metal of the chair below you. There’s not a sound in the room between the two of you, with the exception of a small creak coming from the wooden stool as Hyunjin adjusts his long legs. He runs his hands through his hair nervously, and then he licks his dry lips with his tongue before speaking.

“I have something for you,” Hyunjin says suddenly, his voice echoing around the empty room.

He stands up to pull his bag off the floor, and then he digs around in it for a moment before pulling out his sketchbook. You watch as his slender fingers open the spiral-bound cover, flipping past pages upon pages of sketches and paintings. He flips close to the end, and then he stops, bookmarking the page with his index finger before turning the book to face you.

“I’m sorry if you don’t like it,” he says, keeping the book shut in anticipation. “It’s just something I drew.”

And then with bated breath, he opens the book out to you, adjusting the page in your view to give you a clear sight of its contents. It’s a carefully drawn sketch, of you, standing in front of an easel with a brush in your hand. Painting, like you always do. You recognize the scenery around you as the spot he took you to the other day, the long charcoal streaks perfectly capturing the grass that surrounded you and the tall trees that overlooked the hills. Although it’s a sight familiar to you, it also feels so foreign, seeing yourself through somebody else’s eyes. It feels peculiar to remember people also perceive you while you paint. It makes you feel less unimportant, a little more visible.

“Wow, Hyunjin, this is…”

“Do you like it?” Hyunjin interrupts.

“It’s so lovely. Really. I feel like I don’t deserve this.”

“You do,” he’s quick to respond. “You’ve drawn countless ones of me. And of so many other people. I wanted to gift you one of your own.”

You run your fingers along the thick paper, watching as Hyunjin tears it along its perforation and hands it to you.

“Please, keep it,” he urges.

And you bow once in response, turning to set the drawing along with your bag so you won’t forget it.

“Thank you,” you finally say. “I love it. I’m going to hang it with all my favorite art.”

Hyunjin smiles in response, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips, and then he shoves his hands in his pockets again, leaning against the wooden stool as a silence falls over you both.

For a moment, you ponder what to say to him, wanting to explain the events from the other evening, but unable to verbalize anything amidst your nervousness. Any way you think about it, you fear Hyunjin is going to get mad, especially considering you’d just walked away from him in the face of confrontation. But you also couldn’t help it, his accusation coming so suddenly and so boldly, regardless of it being based on any sliver of truth.

“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin breaks the silence. “I don’t know if I was right or not. But it wasn’t my place to ask you.”

You nod at him, initially planning to divert the topic. But you can’t any further, a growing urge inside of your chest to unveil the truth to him, knowing he’s already pieced this much of it together.

“It is my painting,” you say finally, your voice shaking a little. “I specialized in those ones before portraits. They kind of gained traction when they were first unveiled, and a lot of galleries picked them up. But they drew a lot of criticism, and it became so draining to be the topic of people’s judgment. I think being perceived so heavily just kind of… scared me off. So I shifted to portraits instead, and I no longer do public showings or galleries.”

Hyunjin doesn’t react in a shocked manner, nor does he press you for questions immediately. He just nods, taking in your words, and then he meets your gaze with a concerned expression.

“I learned so much from you,” he explains. “When your paintings were unveiled at the annual art show across the city, I was so mesmerized. They’re why I started painting, too.”

You chuckle lightly, shrugging at him as you slouch back in your seat.

“Yeah, well, I don’t do them anymore.”

You think over your response for a moment, and then you stand up from your seat, too, furrowing your brows together.

“How did you… know it was me?” You question, cocking your head slightly.

“I had a hunch when I first saw your painting techniques. But I also knew it the moment I saw your other paintings in your sketchbook,” he explains. “My favorite painting of the series is printed out and taped to my locker in our dance studio. It just felt like you. I paid attention to your art for years. I was bound to know it when I saw it.”

You nod for the umpteeth time tonight, making sense of his words as you think back to the signature you drew in front of him back in the field.

“I’m sorry I figured it out,” Hyunjin says finally. “I know this was an elaborate plan to remain anonymous and shift your focus to a new form of your work. And your portraits are amazing. But you have a real talent for those older ones. And the whole series just… it changed me.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you tell Hyunjin, looking up to meet his gaze at last. “If anyone was going to find out, I’m glad it was you.”

“You are?” Hyunjin questions, and you hum in response.

“As a client, you have this really interesting way of making me feel seen. When I’m around you, It feels a lot more comfortable from the businessmen I’m used to. It’s like…” your voice trails off as you struggle to finish your sentence. “I feel like I did when I was painting my old stuff. I can see the world beyond just portraits for a little bit.”

Hyunjin says nothing, his eyes flickering down to your lips and back at your eyes once more, which are wide with curiosity and passion as you speak. It’s such a sight to see you talk about your art with this level of devotion again, color in your face once more as you attest to your life’s work.

“Tell me,” Hyunjin begins. “Why are all your paintings so lonely?”

You chuckle softly, shrugging up at him.

“I am lonely,” you say simply.

“I’m lonely, too,” Hyunjin remarks.

And your expression turns serious again, your eyes not leaving his intense gaze as he flickers over your parted lips and takes one step closer to you. He’s towering over you at this point, a strand of hair falling into his face as he lets himself lean into you a little more, just barely grazing his lips over yours.

“Can I please kiss you?” Hyunjin asks so politely, his voice coming out in a whisper as he stops himself from pressing his lips to yours while he waits for an answer.

“Yeah” you finally reply in a whisper of your own, almost on your tippy toes to match his towering height.

And then without another second to waste, Hyunjin closes the gap between both of you, leaning down to press his plump lips to yours and embrace you in a tender, desperate kiss.

He tastes like mint, his lips working against yours with no particular rush, yet his mind still running rampant with thoughts of having you as close as possible. It feels so wrong kissing him here, in the studio you strictly use for the purposes of completing your work-related tasks and nothing more. But with Hyunjin’s lips on yours and his slender hands snaking around the small of your back to pull you closer, it also feels so thrilling, instilling a sense of desire deep within you that can only be fulfilled through acting upon the emotions rooted in your innate fascination with Hyunjin’s entire being.

And you feel visible right now, so tangible when Hyunjin’s nimble hands are running down the sides of your waist and sprawling his delicate fingers along your flesh. It’s you kissing him here, not some shell of who you are when you’re capturing the essences of millionaires on canvas. You’re not the scribbled outlines in Hyunjin’s sketches of couples consuming each other with such passion, though you mirror them. It’s you, child prodigy artist turned portrait specialist, and Hyunjin, in all his fame and splendor, who chooses to spend his free time with you in this studio teaching you about yourself the way you learn from him, too.

Hyunjin’s hands move to tug off the fabric of your cardigan, slouching it off your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor, where it piles in disarray among the white tarp that houses loose paints. You’re pretty sure there may still be wet paint on its surface, but you don’t care, your body desperately arching into Hyunjin’s tall frame as his hands cup your cheeks to kiss you even deeper.

You can barely reach him while his frame looms over you, only able to reciprocate his kisses on the tips of your toes as he takes full control of you with his mouth. And Hyunjin seems to take notice of this, intertwining his hands in yours and pulling you down with him as he sits among the tarp and sprawls his legs out in front of him. You bestride his lean figure, balancing yourself on his lap as he adjusts himself on the concrete floor, and you both laugh when you take note of the admittedly uncomfortable positioning. It’s not meant for lovers, this dinky studio and its cold, concrete flooring. But it’s nothing that can’t be overlooked when his lips are back on yours, kissing you breathlessly and tucking strands of hair behind your ears. You can feel him smiling into the kiss, an indication by Hyunjin’s definition that he’s wanted this so badly. And he knew it from the moment you walked into the company building the first time, nervously preparing yourself out in the hallway like you weren’t going to be an absolute pro at your craft the way he now knows you are. He also knew it every time he observed your paintings, both your old ones and the newer ones that capture Hyunjin with such ease, every minute detail that builds up his intense stare only to break him down and soften him, translating this multifaceted version of him only you seem to visualize. And he gains confirmation of it when he’s finally acting upon his urges, your hands snaking around the back of his neck and moving in tandem with his hungry kisses against yours, grasping at his flesh like you’re trying to prove to yourself he’s real, too.

His sweater is the second article of clothing to go, your bodies only separating from one another briefly as you guide the knit fabric off over him and discard it beside you in the tarp. Your hands find his torso reluctantly, running your fingers along his flesh as though asking for his permission. And Hyunjin smiles when you do, placing his hands over yours and pressing down a little firmer for you, so that you can feel every inch of his toned body. He wields the body of a dancer, delicate curves that run along his sculpted obliques and highlight the years of intense training he’s done. His body feels strong underneath you, but he still feels soft, his touches exuding the gentle fondness he possesses for you.

And you’re kissing him again, all while his hands find your tank top and he separates to undress you, pulling it off over your head and tossing it aside. His hands are quick to find your breasts, splaying them over the mounds of your chest and massaging gently as his kisses turn hungrier. You can feel him getting hard underneath you, and you can hear his breath hitching in the back of his throat as he struggles to contain his growing bulge while you straddle him. But you indulge him even further, undoing the clasp of your bra with your own hand as you continue kissing him. Hyunjin doesn’t notice until your hand reaches out to toss your bra aside, a gentle rustle emitting from beside you as it joins the pile of discarded articles of clothing. And he separates to take in the sight of you, raised goosebumps along your bare skin and your nipples aroused for him, the cold air grazing over your chest as you wait for him to resume his touches. Hyunjin gasps a little, leaning forward to take one in his mouth, and then he begins to suck harshly as his tongue swirls around your bud generously and trails saliva along your skin. You moan at the sensation, Hyunjin digging his fingernails into the small of your back and leaving little crescent marks as his sucking resumes harshly, soft moans bubbling from the back of his throat, too, as he stays latched to you. And then he pulls away to give attention to the other one, his teeth grazing the tip of your nipple before sucking again, his eyes shutting as he relishes in the taste of your skin in his mouth. Hyunjin’s hips rock gently against you as he does, chasing the friction of your legs around his crotch as he grows even harder beneath you, desperate for some release. And then he pulls away finally, breathing heavily, his eyes wide with lust and a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. You bring a thumb to his forehead, swiping the bead off his blushed skin, before cupping your hands around his cheeks and bringing him in for a kiss.

“Please let me fuck you,” Hyunjin says sheepishly against your lips, groaning lightly when he feels you squeeze your thighs once against his crotch.

“You want to?” You ask teasingly, massaging your hands up and down the sides of his neck as he nods eagerly.

“I really, really want to,” Hyunjin responds, shutting his eyes as you squeeze your legs again and pepper his face in kisses, trailing from his forehead, to his cheeks and down his neck. Hyunjin leans back on the palms of his hands in a state of pure bliss, taking in the sensation he’s only dreamt of until now. And when you nibble down on his neck, beginning to suck a small bruise into his skin, he sits up suddenly, his hands finding yours and pushing you away gently.

“Wait,” Hyunjin says. “I can’t… do hickeys. Company’s orders,” he admits, a little defeated, and you nod your head quickly.

“I’m sorry,” you remark. “I totally forgot.”

“It’s okay,” Hyunjin almost cuts you off with a kiss, leaning forward and sitting up on his knees. He guides you down onto the tarp, hoisting himself up over you so that his figure is now hovering over yours, and then his hands find your pants.

“You can do hickeys though,” Hyunjin says in an amused tone, trailing kisses down your neck the same way you did him, and latching his teeth onto your flesh to suck a line of purple bruises. You chuckle underneath him, the sensation tickling a little, but still adding to the generous pool already formed between your legs. And as Hyunjin presses into you with his kisses, you can feel his erection graze your upper thigh, once more seeking the friction of your body for some sense of relief as he longs to feel you around his hardened cock.

“Hyunjin,” you voice as he kisses you, and he hums quietly in response.

“You’re hard,” you remark, your eyes flickering to the tent pitched underneath his jeans.

“Sorry,” he replies, pulling away with a worried expression in his eyes, and you shake your head quickly.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you assure. “I just want to take care of it for you.”

And your hands find your own jeans, pulling them off your legs and tossing them aside. Hyunjin’s eyes skim over your lace panties, the trim almost see through with delicate feminine patterns, and he begins to undo the button of his jeans, too.

He kisses you as he snakes off his own pants, not wanting to separate from you any more as his eagerness grows to be as close to you as possible. And when he’s finally letting his hard cock rub against the fabric of your panties, moaning softly at the sensation, he knows he won’t be able to take it much longer if he doesn’t make love to you right here in the studio.

So his hands work to pull off his boxers, finally freeing his erection against his abdomen and gasping with the cool air grazes the tip of his cock. You slide off your own panties as well, tossing them aside and letting his cock rest against your bare flesh now, his precum painting your clit with his preemptive arousal as he ruts against you. Your flesh is slick with his arousal and yours, the existing lube between both of you allowing your skin to glide upon one another so effortlessly, the same way your lips work against each other. And he continues to push his hardened length against you until he’s halfway inside of you, your cunt taking him with no struggle as he thrusts inside of you now. You adjust to his thick girth easily, his length seemingly never ending as he pushes deeper and deeper into you. And then he gives one particularly hard thrust, bottoming out inside of you and coaxing a fervent moan out of you.

“Is it okay?” Hyunjin asks, wincing at the sensation of your walls hugging his erection.

“So good,” you whine, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “Feels so good.”

And he begins to move in and out of you at a slow pace, trying his best to stave off the orgasm he’s already close to reaching as he fucks you, filling your cunt entirely with his long cock and bottoming out every time he thrusts himself back in.

And he tries to kiss you, but he can’t, his mouth simply looming over yours in its parted position as he echoes his moans into you and lets his saliva-coated lips graze over you. He looks like the subject of an erotic painting himself, eyebrows arched up so artistically with every thrust, melting into your touch as you run your hands through his hair. His initial dominance over you is quickly shifted to that of submission to your mind and your body, little whines leaving his lips as he lets you consume him whole and mold him between in your touch, like he’s made of clay and you’re the sculptor. His lanky body seems to extend as he sways his hips into yours, little dips from the pads of your fingers embedding into his pale skin. He folds effortlessly above you, the points of his elbows jutting out as he steadies his body over you, like he’s made of wire and positioned to balance over you so perfectly, not very sturdy, and yet bent and snapped just right so that he can remain glued to you. And if you were to climb out of your body and paint this exact moment, all you would see are an indistinguishable, amorphous set of limbs that seem to dissolve into each other like hues of paint on a palette. Two colors swirling around to make one, the two of you like primary colors that create endless possibilities when mixed together like this, offspring of a hundred different shades, painting the darkened studio around you with your yearning for one another.

And as Hyunjin brings a hand to stroke your cheek gently, a smile grows on his breathless lips as he realizes he’s brushed a thick stroke of wet paint along your skin. The indigo stripe contrasts coldly against your flesh, still glistening in its freshness like he’s just begun on a blank canvas.

“It’s paint,” Hyunjin says as you gasp at the cold sensation, smiling too, when he swipes it again with his thumb and flashes it down at you.

And you chuckle lightly below him, taking note of the bright orange streak that lines his neck, just below his adam’s apple. You’re not sure when it got there, or whether it was from you or him, but you run a finger through it too, bringing it to his cheek to rub your thumb lovingly across his face and paint it there, too. And in one swift motion, Hyunjin swipes the palm of his hand along the tarp, coating it in hues of indigo and deep violet and gray, cupping a hand around your breast to coat it in the same wet substance. And you do the same, your hand dipping generously into the myriad of reds and fuchsia paints that live below you, running a hand down his chest and painting a long stripe along his toned torso.

You both laugh, as he picks up his pace again, pushing himself to the hilt inside of you, the paints melting together with your sweat as he fucks you rhythmically again. And like two blank canvases finally being put to use, new colors blossom between the two of your longing bodies, shades of magenta and blue-gray making themselves known across your breasts and his torso. The colors are vibrant and robust, transferring life from the dull tarp of the studio floor onto blank slates of skin. You wish you could step out of your body and capture the colors forever, mix paints together into little jars and name every shade after every feeling Hyunjin’s ever given you. Longing, lust, fear, fascination, infatuation, obsession.

“I think I’m obsessed with you,” Hyunjin breathes into your mouth so desperately. “It’s indescribable, the things you do to me.”

He lets his hands intertwine with yours again, giving them a small squeeze as he fucks you a little faster now and lets his groans shift into small whimpers that escape his lips.

“Please let me cum inside you,” Hyunjin begs, his cock slipping against your cervix with ease as wettened noises of his arousal pooling against yours fill the room. “Please, please, I promise to take care of you, baby. I feel like I belong here.”

He’s a whimpering mess for you now, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he fucks you and lets his hands explore every inch of your body. You want to cry, too, at the realization again that this all feels so tangible, that he makes you feel so seen when he’s hovering over you, placing open-mouthed kisses onto yours and letting his melodic moans fill your ears. The paint between you serving as proof that he’s touched you so desperately and wholly, creating art together in the confined space of your otherwise dull studio. And you want to feel him cum inside you, too, as a final reminder that you’re visible to him, that you’re no longer a fleeting, anonymous artist when you’re with Hyunjin. That he sees you for exactly you are, he knows your deepest secrets, and yet still he holds you, whispering words of permanence in your ear and letting you mold him like art. He’s an artist on his own, and he’s art at the hands of you, both of which draw you to him in ways you can’t begin to fathom, unlike anything you’ve felt before. And he teaches you that you’re an artist on your own, and art at the hands of a lover, both of which you hadn’t considered before Hyunjin, deeming yourself invisible in your comfortable solitude to the vast world around you. But the two coincide to echo the same sentiment that he teaches you exactly the way he also learns from you.

“Cum inside me,” you breathe desperately, grasping his hands a little tighter as he fucks you at a faster pace now.

“Yeah?” Hyunjin confirms, still staving off his orgasm until your verbal consent is heard.

“Yes,” you respond, wrapping your legs around his waist and making your best attempt to kiss him through his release. And you do, your lips moving against his in labored breaths, as he finally twitches inside of you and paints the inside of your listless body, hues of glazed white arousal filling your aching cunt as he whimpers through his orgasm.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin, breathes, giving a few more thrusts as he slows, his arousal dripping onto the tarp below you as he pulls out. And he rolls over to lie beside you, a mess of paint streaks sprawled out along his skin as his chest rises and falls with slowing breaths. The two of you say nothing for a moment, your eyes glued to a blank canvas housed on an easel in front of you.

It’s an almost blinding shade of white, begging for an ounce of color like the shades that now live on your skin. And through your heavy breaths, you picture the endless possibilities that can fill in the empty spaces above you. Grasslands, trees, oceans, clear waters and a vast, endless blue sky…

There is no overseas schedule Hyunjin has to tend to. You’re already aware of this, Hyunjin explaining to you that he made it up to put the sessions on hold and to keep Q from pressing him with questions.

But he resumes the sessions after a few weeks of putting them on pause, because he can’t seem to stay away from you any longer.

Hyunjin reckons he has a couple dozen of your paintings in his room now, all similar portraits of his face, portraits you capture in your signature formal essence, his face staring straight ahead or off in the distance, complete with the fine details of his long dark hair and the mole under his eye.

Only now that Hyunjin is back, Q is present at nearly every appointment. You’re not sure why things changed, and Q maintains a new stance to Hyunjin that the guidelines are based on adjusted company policies. But Hyunjin will do just about anything to be close to you- even if it means putting up with your obnoxious boss breathing down your neck every minute while you paint him.

The sessions are somehow even more unnerving than they used to be, Hyunjin still making every valiant effort to convey his obsession with you through intense stares and little gestures only the two of you can read. Q is obstinate in his ways, his gaze constantly flickering between you and your paintings to ensure everything is going swimmingly. But Hyunjin wishes so badly he could spend the entirety of these sessions alone with you, getting to break down your walls and see you for the person he knows you are when you’re not doing portraits under Q’s all-seeing eye.

With every passing day, and every passing session, Hyunjin grows a deep hatred for Q, despising the way he watches you work and chimes in to converse with the two of you. And he knows he shouldn’t, aware that Q is just your boss and nothing more. Something you’ve reiterated to him time and time again, but he can’t help it, desperate to have you all to himself every second of the day, a deep-seated longing to protect you from the hurt you’ve been dealt and wanting so badly for you to break free from the monotonous cycle you’ve confined yourself to of painting for anyone except yourself.

You can tell Hyunjin hates Q, judging by the way he doesn’t so much look in his direction when he arrives for his sessions. But you can’t convey the slightest bit of reaction in front of either of them, too scared of the prospect of what would happen to your career if anyone were to find out you’re fucking a client.

You maintain a professional composure around Hyunjin, despite the knowing stares he gives you and the sketches you catch him slipping into your purse when Q isn’t looking. At times he’s not around, you complete your daily tasks, well-mannered and organized to the clients who hire you, shooting them kind smiles and complimenting their black business attire when they show up for the evening. When the days draw to a close, Q is punctual as always, leaving just minutes past your last appointment and taking his work home with him.

And when his sleek black car turns out of the corner of the parking lot, Hyunjin slips inside like a mere shadow on the wall, quick to seduce you all over again and gift you with all of his recent sketches. Some of them are portraits of you, smiling or focused on your work. Some of them are erotic nude shots of you, lying on the tarp of the studio or touching yourself the way he pictures you do when you’re all alone. And some of them include both of you, your bodies tangled desperately into each other and drowning in your yearning and love. Sometimes nude, his hands on yours and fucking you mercilessly. Sometimes fully clothed, his lips on yours and bundled up in winter clothes. But always together, always desperate in your touches and always so tangible. You reckon he’s persuaded you into being fucked you on every surface of the dingy studio by now- against the canvases, on the tarp- several times, on the table Q typically occupies and just about every stool available to the two of you. And while Q is oblivious about why you stay a little longer every night, Hyunjin is both calculated and persuasive in returning so you two can get some time alone, time that always ends with his seed dripping out of your still-aching cunt, bodies entangled somewhere within the studio and covered in fresh swatches of paint.

He may have somewhat of an obsession with you, but life is teeming around the studio when Hyunjin is near, the colors and shapes of your work much more robust and vibrant when he’s striding around the space commenting on all his favorite pieces of yours. And you relish in stories of his days, typically spent at fan events or at dance practices. Having him return feels like having your physical figure return home to you, the world in complete equilibrium when he’s near, much less lonely than the one you’re used to.

“I could watch you do this forever,” Hyunjin remarks, watching you glide a brush along your canvas, filling in the shadows of a figure on the canvas in front of you.

And this one’s not a portrait- it’s a watercolor figure, much like the ones you used to paint back then, the technique coming back to you with ease as you highlight the convexes of a body mirroring yours and add varying hues as highlights.

Per Hyunjin’s request, you paint the figures occasionally, only because he’s repeatedly expressed his fascination at watching you complete the process in a live session. The paintings reminiscent of your old work aren’t for sale, nor are they critiqued by anyone except for yourself. And they’re certainly not done with the knowledge of Q, who would turn irate at you utilizing the studio’s supplies for anything but portraits.

They’re just for his viewing pleasure, a little exchange you indulge him in as he continues to gift you with sketches of his own.

Hyunjin’s arms snake around your waist as you paint, his head resting on your shoulder as he watches you dip your brush into a mug of water and dilute the caramel shade that taints the bristles.

“Will you add a second one?” Hyunjin asks in a curious whisper, his lips grazing your ear as you paint.

“A second one?” You echo.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin says, working a trail of kisses down the shell of your ear. “This one’s you. Will you add me?”

You chuckle lightly, dipping your brush into a warmer shade of brown and swirling it around to gather the color on the fine hairs.

“So they can resemble us,” Hyunjin says, his kisses traveling even lower. “Paint me fucking you the way you like it.”

You chuckle softly again, not missing the way Hyunjin’s hands travel to your skirt, flipping it up to graze his hands along the mound of your upper thigh.

“Hyunjin, I-” you begin to say. But you can’t answer him, shutting your eyes in pleasure as you hear him unzip his jeans behind you and position himself.

“Keep painting,” he says in a sultry whisper, pumping himself lightly behind you as he pulls your panties down.

And you try, bringing your brush to the canvas to add a second figure like he’s requested. But you can hardly make it past the first few strokes before Hyunjin’s sliding into your dripping cunt, letting his hands grip your waist to steady himself as he begins to move.

“Go on,” Hyunjin encourages, as his hips thrust in and away from your trembling figure, your hands trying their very best to keep hold of the little wooden paint brush and fill in his form.

You manage to add a subtle few streaks, beginning the amorphous outline of Hyunjin’s hair, his tall lanky figure towering over yours and taking you with such desperation.

But you don’t get very far before Hyunjin is angling your face to kiss your drooly lips, his hands now finding purchase on your breasts as he continues to fuck you. And all of this is wrong, you know very well. You’re not supposed to be sleeping with a client like this, much less one this powerful, this rich and who wields so much he can hold against you. One slip up and Hyunjin can go tell the world about how you’re the artist who disappeared to sell yourself out to rich men for all their selfish needs. And any option you have to defend yourself would never hold up against his wealthy corporation and all its investors.

But you also can’t help but give into his urges when he’s around, his lips so tantalizing on yours and his cock filling you so fully and completely when he has his way with you.

Maybe it’s not even just about the sex for you- maybe it also has something to do with his stories you live through vicariously, listening to tales of the outside world while you’re trapped in this studio or at the businesses of wealthy men. It’s also the drawings he makes for you, ones you find yourself staring at for hours after he leaves, like proof that he was here and he touched you. The drawings are you in your most tangible form, his hands on yours and his lips on the curves of your neck. It’s like a glimpse into a version of yourself that ceases to exist when he’s absent. And it’s the late hours of the night he spends asking so politely to watch you paint your older work, always so fascinated with the way your mind conjures up varying lonely figures crafted from watercolors and a nylon bristle brush. Older work you hadn’t realized you missed so dearly until you began producing it for Hyunjin again.

But you know that to Hyunjin this is just a exhilarating idea for him, to view your art the same way he carves out a couple hours each week for a museum tour or to sketch in one of his books. He probably finds it more convenient to fuck you here where nobody’s around than to stroke himself in a dorm he shares with three other men. And you can feel it in the way he so desperately pleads you to paint for him or cum for him- that his obsession with you is less about you, and more about the thought of you.

Maybe this is just the result of Hyunjin uncovering a secret nobody else paid close enough attention to connect you to. Or the thrill of you being his favorite artist for years, and realizing you’re finally tangible in front of him, real, and not disappeared like he previously took you for. You reckon it must be the same phenomenon other girls feel toward him, getting intimate with somebody they idolize, desperately cupping his face like it might dissipate if they don’t grasp hard enough. But just the thought of somebody doesn’t imply love. It doesn’t imply a mutual understanding, and it certainly doesn’t imply permanence for either party involved. When he’s gone again, you’ll cease to be real like you already are when he’s not around. And then every vision you have will be rooted in unfaltering solitude once more, your anonymous life resuming again.

“Will you cum for me?” Hyunjin asks, and you snap back to the feeling of his cock twitching in your dripping cunt as he grips your waist. “God, you don’t understand what you do to me.”

You can’t give him an answer before you feel him reaching his release inside of you, shooting thick white ropes of his cum into you and slowing his pace again as he moves your hair away from your face.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it,” Hyunjin says sheepishly as he pulls out. “Sit down for me,” he orders between kisses to your neck, trailing down to your shoulder, grazing his hands along your waist and groaning against you.

And he’s already guiding you back to one of the stools, kneeling between your legs and spreading you for him, your glistening cunt on full display for him to taste.

“Want you to cum for me,” Hyunjin whispers, before positioning one of your legs on the wooden dowels of the stool. You can’t verbalize anything to him before his tongue is darting into your entrance, lapping his own release out of you and trailing up to give attention to your swollen clit. He works you in such desperate motions, tongue working your core like a starved animal and eagerly trying to coax an orgasm out of your trembling body. When his arousal is effectively brought out of your tight cunt and painting the tip of his tongue white, he coats your clit in it, giving kitten licks to your bundle of nerves as he hums against your flesh and whispers little pleas for you to let go.

And between your pussy still clenching down around the sheer memory of his cock inside of you mere minutes ago, and his plump lips kissing all over your wettened core, you do let go for him, dribbling cum down the edge of the wooden stool and threading your fingers through his hair as he trails kisses down to your thighs in encouragement.

“So good,” Hyunjin murmurs as he comes up for air, intertwining his fingers in yours as you get cleaned up. You shoot him a little “thank you”, and Hyunjin presses a chaste kiss to the back of your hand as he nods, getting dressed once more and tucking his softened cock back into his boxers.

“Come here,” he states. “I want to ask you something.”

“Should I be concerned?”

“It’s exciting,” Hyunjin retorts.

He guides you to his same wooden stool, where he climbs upon the seat and then takes your hands in his again as you stand in front of him, pressing a small kiss to your palm before speaking.

“You know I care about you, right?” He begins, his eyebrows raised curiously.

“You’ve mentioned it,” you reply.

“And you know I love your art.”

“So you’ve told me,” you say, and Hyunjin brings your hand up to press another kiss to your palm.

“I have a proposal for you,” he then says. “And I just want you to hear me out.”

Your heart sinks at his words, already fearing the worst as you wait for him to elaborate. You pray he hasn’t done anything to reveal your identity, or to make these secret erotic sessions public, knowing you’d both never live a normal life again at either of the instances occurring.

“What is it?” You ask Hyunjin, heart racing in your chest.

He rubs his thumb along the back of your hand soothingly, trying to calm you down before he speaks.

“I privately sponsor the art gallery every year,” he begins. “I put some funding toward a painting of my choice and it allows those artists to have their pieces displayed for the winter show and make connections,” he continues.

“Okay…”

“And I want to sponsor you this year,” Hyunjin finishes, giving your hands a little squeeze.

“Hyunjin, there can't be an installment of your face at the art museum. People will get suspicious.”

“Not my face,” he says reassuringly. “Your art. Like the ones you used to do.”

And you feel your throat dry up at his words, the exact thing you’d feared coming to fruition.

“I can’t,” you’re quick to say.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t do those paintings anymore. I can paint you, or another person or whoever. But I can’t do one of my old ones.”

“But your old ones are beautiful,” Hyunjin says. “It doesn’t have to be your old series. You can start a new one. Do something entirely different.”

“I don’t want to do something entirely different, Hyunjin. It’s a chapter of my life that’s been closed already. You know I don’t do those anymore.”

Hyunjin maintains his collected composure, his eyes softening as he speaks to you.

“You’re not happy doing portraits. I know you. You have a spark in you when you’re painting for yourself, and people love them. You deserve to be doing what you love.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, letting go of Hyunjin’s grasp and shaking your head. “I’m so grateful for the offer, but I can’t put myself back out there again.”

“You can still be anonymous,” Hyunjin offers. “Some artists I’ve sponsored choose to remain anonymous and only reveal to serious patrons of their art. I can make sure they don’t find out who you are.”

“It’s me and my art I don’t want to be seen,” you emphasize.

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything now, rising from the wooden stool and reaching for the iced coffee he’s placed on the table beside you.

“Okay. I won’t press it any further.”

He swirls the cup of ice around in his hand, and then he hangs his head in defeat.

“Hyunjin, seriously. Thank you for the offer. It’s sweet of you to consider it. But I’m not ready yet.”

He shoves a hand in his pocket and cocks his head slightly.

“Is this because of Quinton?”

“What? Hyunjin, I already told you our relationship is strictly professional-”

“Not romantically,” Hyunjin continues. “You’re like a slave to him. You do everything he tells you to do. He probably doesn’t let you leave this studio.

You’re quiet again, not answering him immediately. No, you don’t stay here at Q’s behest. But it just feels safer to follow his advice. He was just a client when you met him, but he took you under his wing to get you where you are now. He runs all your schedules, he books your appointments for you, he even gives his say on most of your work. He’s the only part of your old life that’s remained the same, despite your transition to portraits, and cutting him off would be stepping into a world completely unbeknownst to you.

“No,” you say finally, but you don’t expand further upon your stance.

“You’re so lonely here,” Hyunjin responds frustratedly. “And yet you follow orders from the same person whose job it is to keep you invisible.”

“Why should I follow your orders?” You retort.

“Because I love you.”

“You don’t love me, Hyunjin,” you reply frustratedly, finally feeling the anger overtake you as you continue your angered speech. “You love the idea of me. You love the idea of escaping your crazy rich life to try and resolve the tortured artist you’re so infatuated with. You love the idea of fulfilling somebody’s life with your presence because it’s all you do for a career. I’m not the person I was when I was doing those paintings- I do portraits now, and I work under somebody who knows what’s best for me. And you’re just a client I’m sleeping with.”

Hyunjin purses his lips, amused you would stoop that low for the purposes of declining his offer. And then he shakes his head as he speaks again.

“You’re right,” he finally says. “I’m just some client you’re sleeping with. I never tried to push you out of this line of work you hate so much, or drew you on every page of my sketch book or made love to you in every square inch of this goddamn studio. I’m not proposing this because I care about you and I want you to do what you love, it’s because I’m just a client you’re sleeping with.”

And he pivots on his heel to exit the studio, taking rushed steps toward the door as tears brim the corners of your eyes.

“Hyunjin, wait,” you call desperately.

“I see you,” Hyunjin says suddenly, turning around to face you. “I see all of you. Your work didn’t just materialize by some anonymous form. You’re a painter, a really talented one, and I don’t want you to feel this all-consuming solitude anymore. I say that because I love you, not just because I’m sleeping with you. If you want to remain invisible to everybody except Quinton, then be my guest. Just know that I tried.”

And without another word, the studio is empty again, the tip of your brush still dripping with the remnants of the warm brown color and every intention to add a second figure to your painting.

You don’t speak with Hyunjin any more that evening. Or the next day. Or perhaps for a whole week following the conversation, for that matter. The reality is that you want to partake in his offer, the thought of it candidly piquing your interest to paint something other than another rich man. And it would be nice to watch your art be displayed for people to see just once, rather than to live on the walls of a company where only people within a certain tax bracket will ever grace your work. But what you reiterated to Hyunjin still stands- you’re scared to venture out into the competitive world of art galleries again. Your old series was a hit, sure, but it was also torn down relentlessly by those who didn’t understand it and those who simplified it down to its medium. And it was a much harder endeavor to make people understand your watercolor forms, unlike the portraits Q advises you continue producing.

But you can’t seem to stop thinking of Hyunjin’s proposal as a whole, understanding very well that his offer is one of the kindest things he could propose to you at this place in your life. He sees you- all of you, and subsequently he knows that you’re unhappy in this monotonous abyss of adding new features to the same faces every day. The way a change for you is determined only by a shift in a client’s pose or even just an addition of their pet- it’s all so repetitive, exactly what art isn’t supposed to be.

Maybe you’re just scared of getting rejected again, or perhaps it’s that you’re scared of finally being seen again, anonymous or not, putting yourself on the map again and being perceived.

“I want a painting,” Hyunjin says as he saunters into the studio one evening, throwing off his bag and dragging a stool to the middle of the room.

“Oh- Hyunjin, pleased to see you again,” Q remarks, bowing and giving you a nervous look.

Hyunjin doesn’t even acknowledge him, keeping a stern gaze locked on yours as if he’s challenging you.

“We have the evening booked today,” Q begins. “But I’m sure we can accommodate something for next week-”

“I need it now,” Hyunjin replies. “I’m willing to pay five times your asking price.”

And you narrow your eyes at Hyunjin, knowing he’s making his best attempt to provoke you and disrupt the work you’re completing per Q’s orders.

“How do you want it?” Q then asks, not hesitating to put aside your entire evening for Hyunjin’s offer.

“I want to be in a suit. And I want to be holding a wad of cash. I want to look like an investor.”

“Interesting,” Q says, his gaze flickering to yours. “She can do it though.”

Q turns to face you, giving you a knowing look as he raises his eyebrows. “I’ll clear your calendar for today and we can stay and work on this piece.”

And Hyunjin looks to you, too, waiting for you to protest, to say something along the lines of a refusal to partake in the outlandish task. But you avert both of their gazes, readying your paint palette and gesturing to one of the stools in front of you.

“Have a seat,” you say plainly, void of any emotion or desire to fulfill the task. And by the way Q hovers over you, void of autonomy, too, Hyunjin concludes.

“How are things at the company?” Q asks Hyunjin, leaning in a little too close to you as you begin painting long strokes on the canvas.

“Fine,” Hyunjin says, not taking his gaze off yours. His eyes are narrowed like he’s challenging you, yet you don’t give him the reaction he searches for.

“You must be busy,” Q remarks, his hands folded behind his back. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen you here.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure you’re running her schedule like the fucking military,” Hyunjin retorts, cocking an eyebrow at him. Q takes a sharp breath, but he doesn’t argue, doing his best to keep in line at your highest-paying client.

“She’s pretty busy,” Q replies reluctantly. “But it’s nothing she can’t handle.”

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything, again waiting for you to chime in, but you still don’t, working on adding details to Hyunjin’s tresses on the canvas.

“This will be my final session,” Hyunjin then says, and your head snaps to meet his gaze.

“Is that so?” Q questions. “Going overseas again?”

“Indefinitely,” Hyunjin replies. “Not overseas, I’ve just no need for the paintings anymore.”

Your lips part as though to ask if he’s serious, but you can’t, not with Q here alongside you.

“I have so many of them now,” Hyunjin remarks, not taking his eyes off you. “It’s been a lovely time with the two of you, but I won’t be returning after this evening. I hope you understand.”

“Please don’t hesitate to reach out if there’s anything we can provide you with,” Q voices. “I hope we’ll remain connected with the peers at your company.”

“Oh, you will,” Hyunjin replies. “I’m sure the investors and the senior managers will love portraits of their own. She’ll have a lifetime of portraits to complete when I’m gone.”

You can feel a pit forming in your stomach, queasy at the thought of carrying on this task of capturing rich businessmen and ceasing your sessions with Hyunjin. He’s unmoving in his attempts to make you revisit your old art. But his begging has also been eye-opening, making you realize just how much you hate this line of work and having Q breathe down your neck.

Hyunjin has a point, you’re unhappy doing portraits. You love the watercolor figures you paint, you love your time with Hyunjin and the feeling of unending curiosity he instills in you. There’s no solitude when he’s around, filling every aspect of your life with such color and vibrancy like the figures you paint. And you learn from him just as much as he learns from you.

But the fear remains, the feeling of hopelessness remains, the perception that Hyunjin is only obsessed with an idea of you and that your career is far gone from the watercolor figures you painted so long ago.

And of course, that you require Q’s uncompromising presence in your life to be even close to successful. He’s the one who transitioned you to a successful career of portraits after your previous line of work fell through. And you’re not sure you can shift to a new focus without him to guide you.

“Hyunjin,” you say suddenly, garnering the attention of both he and Q.

“What is it?” Q replies, as though you’re referring to him. And you wish he wouldn’t be so… disruptive, making you lose your train of thought as Hyunjin waits for your words with bated breath.

“I’ve completed the initial outline,” you settle on saying. “It should be sent over to you in a couple days.”

And he nods, a somber, thin-lipped expression on his face as he understands you’re never going to divert from this path of fear you walk, one you’re forcing yourself to stick to.

“Thank you,” Hyunjin responds, getting up to leave again. “I’ll see you around.”

Private events are seldom actually private for Hyunjin. The interior of the gallery is organized accordingly so that patrons can mingle with their respective artists and all of the prestigious guests invited.

But the exterior is only private up the crowd control stanchions, where beyond it live hordes of people wielding all sorts of fancy cameras and cell phones, snapping photo after photo and analyzing every one of Hyunjin’s movements.

Hyunjin’s attending an art gallery today, the crowds murmur amongst each other, the message echoing all over the city and overshadowing the art itself, which hasn’t even been unveiled yet.

His departure from the black limousine he arrives in is met instantly with deafening screams, the repetitive click of camera shutters and commands for him to angle his face every which way. The people stop to stare at his fitted black suit, the long black hair he sports styled slick out of his face and expensive jewelry he flaunts as a clear indicator that he’s a sponsor of the evening’s show, alongside a long list of other wealthy individuals.

His hands remain tucked in the pockets of his black slacks, giving a gracious bow to the fans before making his way inside to the main event.

And the gallery is significantly more packed than he’s used to, people crowding every square inch of the marbled floors and admiring the intricate pieces of art. The curtains are pulled back neatly so that guests can roam freely among the halls, easels set up in neat rows and canvases mounted on walls to display all the sponsored works of art.

Hyunjin is quick to gravitate to the long white table pushed against the wall by the entrance, set up with generous servings of hors d’oeuvres. And in a bout of nervousness, he’s sampling the cheese platters and the varying flavors of wine, sighing as he swirls a glass of cherry merlot between his slender fingers.

He was supposed to be here sponsoring you tonight, unveiling your paintings for the world to appreciate once again, and so that he’d finally put forth the notion that you’re more than the halls of law offices your portraits exist in.

But that was three weeks ago now- three weeks in which Hyunjin failed to visit you like he’d warned he would. And three weeks in which neither of you reconnected, letting the temporary affair between you dissipate like the sketches he stopped producing of you, like the portraits he finished collecting from you. And like the hope he held onto that maybe you’d come around and entertain a life in which you aren’t so comfortable being invisible and inhibited at the hands of your Q. But that never came around, and although Hyunjin is frustrated with you, he misses you just as much, knowing very well he could spend a lifetime learning from you if only you let him. Now in the gallery he once dragged you to, where he admitted to having learned the secret you hid, he can only pray you know that he sees you for who you are, and not some invisible producer of your static portraits. That a life lived in complete solitude doesn’t have to be the answer to succumbing to your fears, even if it feels more comfortable than the perception and the critiques of others. And that although the idea of you was a lovely one indeed, he loves every part of you, not just the concept of you- and pushing you to grow was his way of making it known.

The gallery hosts are quick to introduce the paintings and their respective sponsors, a variety of them being under anonymous titles and names as they choose to remain hidden, too. But Hyunjin doesn’t wait around to listen to much of it, examining the paintings on his own in between nervous trips to the snack table, where he gets tipsy off a little too much cherry wine. It’s his first time not being a sponsor to a specific painting, instead having opted to donate a large sum to the gallery in his company’s name. But after you declined his invitation to be sponsored, Hyunjin didn’t see it fit to highlight the work of any other painting. It’s you he wants to see up there, proudly showing off your work and making a name for yourself in the industry again the way he knows you secretly want to. And he so badly wishes he could stop by your studio one last time to tell you that he’s not sure he can ever sponsor another painting again if it’s not one of yours. Your art circles his mind relentlessly, as do your words, your heart, your body and your real, tangible presence.

“Nice, isn’t it?” A voice says from beside Hyunjin. He almost jumps, the wine making him a little tired at this point in the evening, not having socialized with many people while he stands in the corner of the room and takes in the sight.

“Quinton?” Hyunjin voices plainly, scowling at his uptight demeanor as he leans against the table beside Hyunjin and crosses his legs.

“So nice to see our former highest-painting client,” Q responds. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’ve never seen you at one of these,” Hyunjin chimes in. He then looks around the room frantically, thinking maybe you’d accompanied him to the event tonight.

“Don’t bother,” Q says, as he takes a sip of wine. “I’m alone. Just scoping out the competition.”

He’s quiet for a moment, swirling his glass of wine around in his hand before speaking again.

“She never had a portrait at one of these gallery shows. Said they felt too commercial. Of course her old stuff was shown just about everywhere. I think she was just scared.”

“You mean- you knew?” Hyunjin questions.

“Of course I knew. I led her career’s entire rebranding. Of course she didn’t love the portraits, but the money came to us like you wouldn’t believe. And coupled with her fear of these gallery walks and important figures, we had no choice but to compromise. I got her the opportunity to paint people like you. And she did all the work.”

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything for a moment, simply shaking his head and crossing his legs, too.

“She had a lot of people who believed in her art.”

Q shrugs. “She was free to walk whenever she wanted. Her fear kept her controlled, not me. I’m just another businessman for all she cares.”

And Hyunjin gives a small nod, finishing the last of his wine.

“Look, I can’t help but feel like I owe you an apology,” Hyunjin says finally. “I was just a little jealous whenever you were around. Not that there was anything going on, I just mean-”

“You think you’re the first client to have taken a liking to her?” Q interrupts. “I’ve seen it a million times. People want to take advantage and they get obsessed, and they start pulling crazy shit like offering five times the pay for a simple portrait.”

Q looks down to examine his leather shoes, adjusting the glasses that rest on the bridge of his nose. And then he sighs frustratedly before speaking again.

“I would know,” Q then says, doing his best to avert Hyunjin’s gaze. “She’s a tough one to crack. She loves her paintings, and being alone and I don’t think she’d ever give the time of day to a good man. Not even if he followed her to her next endeavor.”

Hyunjin nods at the marbled floor, and then his head snaps in the direction of Q’s somber gaze.

The way he speaks of you, the way he gets a little too close to you for Hyunjin’s liking- Hyunjin finally thinks he understands. It’s not just the fear of being perceived that keeps you from picking up your old life again. It’s the fear of abandoning Q, who so arrogantly feels like he’s owed something for helping get you back on your feet after you shifted your work’s focus.

He’s the only other person who knows your secret, and he holds it over you like it makes him more important than anyone else in your life. He reduces you to a lifetime of following his orders, likely because he’s bitter that he was never the solution to your loneliness. A wealthy businessman himself, it was Q who kept returning for paintings once not long ago, accumulating piles of your work and making every last effort to pursue you. But when he wasn’t successful, he convinced you that you were right about your fears, that it was your best move to take his advice and he’d keep you turning a generous profit as long as you stuck by him. Q was so hopelessly devoted to an idea of you, and when he couldn’t help you overcome your fears, he became the catalyst for your fears, instead.

“You and I are a lot of the same,” Q voices. “Two rich men with dreams just out of our reach. It seems money can’t buy you everything, after all.”

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything, swallowing nervously and looking at Q. And then Q shakes his head as he sets his glass of wine down on the table.

“Only I’ve never seen her willingly paint the same client so many times the way she does with you,” he finishes. “I guess she really liked being seen, after all.”

Q adjusts his glasses once more, and Hyunjin feels his heart sink at Q’s words, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly guilty for not having contacted you again.

“Could you tell her I stopped by?” Hyunjin inquires.

“Me? Oh no,” Q begins. “I can’t get in contact with her. No one can.”

“You- what? What do you mean?”

“Exactly that,” Q responds. “She told me she was done, and she walked out on me with a single watercolor palette and a notepad. She didn’t say anything else.”

“Did she say where she was going?” Hyunjin interrupts to ask, and Q shakes his head.

“She just left, and it’s been almost a month and she’s still MIA. Maybe she’ll come crawling back when she needs another rebranding.”

Hyunjin can feel his heart sinking deeper and deeper with every passing word that leaves Q’s lips.

He’s tried your cell phone- twice since leaving, and you never answered. But he assumed it to be a fleeting argument that would eventually make amends in due time when he could stomach visiting the studio again- not you running away from all of this for good.

“I have to go,” Hyunjin says frantically, chugging the rest of his wine and slamming his glass on the table.

“It was me who found her the first time,” Q says, not taking his eyes off the art across the room.

“What?”

“It was me who chased after her. After she disappeared. Don’t be surprised if she shuts you out when you finally do find her- I think I’ve already scarred her enough with my relentless attempts at persuasion.”

Hyunjin nods nervously, watching as Q cocks his head at the art, still averting Hyunjin’s gaze. And when he finally does turn to look at him, his eyes are glossy with tears, guilt painting every feature on his face.

“Could you just tell her I’m sorry?”

Hyunjin nods, though he makes no verbal promise to relay the message to you.

“Don’t do what I did,” Q emphasizes. “I think you’re the one person who makes her feel like art, herself. Don’t ruin this.”

“I forgot my ID today,” Hyunjin remarks to the security guard in the late hours of the evening. He’s met with a gracious bow, the same security guard opening the door and ushering him inside anyway.

“Don’t worry about it. Take as long as you need.”

The security guards all know Hyunjin very well now, taking note of the way his visits increased tenfold following your departure from the city.

At first he felt as though maybe he was searching for you when he’d come out here, any ounce of proof that you had indeed existed the way he remembered, and hopeful for the confirmation that you moved on to something new.

But as paintings cycled through their respective artists, and exhibits cycled through varying themes, it was a confirmation he never received, never finding a hint of you among the gallery. Thus, Hyunjin drew the hopeful conclusion that you’d escaped to a nicer city, worked on your old paintings again and made a new life for yourself, independently instead of under the overbearing presence of any other man. It’s what he wishes, at least, feeling disheartened every time he remembers you’ve very seldom lived any part of your professional career for yourself only.

The gallery is quiet at this hour, akin to the silent gray evening beyond its walls, and Hyunjin’s shoes squeak along the floors as he makes his way over to the curtains that veil the artwork.

New sculptures, by the same artist who had formed the paper mache ones. These ones are formed from wire and clay, the figures once again embracing each other in tender touches and dances. Hyunjin studies every careful bend and arch, making a mental note to sketch some of them when he gets a chance.

Another room houses a similar spread of modern art from before, these ones all coinciding with the warm lighting that hangs overhead, strokes along the canvases all housing similar warm-toned hues. He knows you’d love this installment and its careful attention to making use of color.

And the last room, the same little room behind a curtain, a small bench in front of a colossal canvas and just barely lit for his eyes to make out the scene.

Hyunjin’s seated before he can even examine the artwork, squinting carefully at the painting to get a better look. He even makes a conscious decision to put on his black frame glasses, making every attempt to get a proper look at the artwork in front of him.

Diluted hues of paint and water dance along the canvas, figured outlines he’s very familiar with, and the essence of solitude radiating from every brush stroke. Only this one isn’t one figure- it’s two, a warm-toned figure and a cool-toned outline holding each other in a tender embrace, their faces indistinguishable, true to the mystery of your work.

And between them, bright hues of paint, yellows, blues, magentas, fantastic mixtures of chartreuse and vermillion, all painted like brush strokes along their yearning bodies and illustrating a profound sense of togetherness, much more robust than the ever-present solitude.

“Visions of you in solitude,” reads the small bronze beneath the canvas.

As he cocks his head to make sense of the painting, he feels the leather of the bench dip beside him, indicating the presence of another patron. And at this hour, he doesn’t need to turn his head to understand who it is.

“There’s two,” Hyunjin says with a small smile, not averting his gaze from the painting.

“It felt incomplete without one.”

“Is that…”

“You?” You question quietly.

He nods in response, eyes scanning the swatches of paint between their bodies. It has to be me, he thinks. It has to be us.

“Maybe it is,” you reply. “I don’t disclose my processes to just about anyone. But you’re welcome to make your assumptions how you see fit.”

Hyunjin gives a breathy chuckle, finally turning to meet your gaze.

You look lighter- happier, as though you have the weight of your fears and reservations off your shoulders for once. Hyunjin can’t help but lean a little closer into you before stopping himself, knowing he can’t come in here to mirror the same thing Q once did long ago.

“You’re doing galleries,” he settles on saying.

“And they scare the hell out of me,” you respond, huffing a little at the end of your sentence. “But, it is nice to be seen again.”

He gives a little nod, and then his mind goes back to Q, who had asked to relay his version of an apology to you. But Hyunjin hesitates to speak of him, not wanting to taint your new art with the mentions of the old businessmen who took advantage of you.

“I’d have kept my distance if I knew how this went down the first time,” Hyunjin explains, hoping you’ll get what he implies. “It wasn’t fair of me to ask you to shift your focus. I just wanted you to be happy.”

You sigh for a moment, scanning the painting across from you, too, before turning to speak to him once more.

“Of all the clients I’ve painted, you were the first to ask about my vision. I think you do see me. And I think it was easier to say you loved an idea of me, because I couldn’t understand why you’d love any other part.”

Hyunjin nods, not taking his eyes off of yours.

“I learn from you the same way you learned from me,” you continue. “And you make me feel so seen. But I’m learning how to do that without needing you, too. Getting comfortable with my loneliness, I don’t think it’s something I was able to practice very much. At least not with…”

Hyunjin nods, not needing to hear Q’s name to know who you speak of.

“I understand,” Hyunjin voices. “And I want you to take all the time that you need. What matters is that you feel fulfilled, and that you’re not being pushed at the hands of somebody else. That’s more than enough for me to love you at a distance.”

And you nod at him, your heart swelling at his words as he turns to look back at the painting once more. The two of you stay there like that for several minutes, observing the way you’ve so carefully captured the togetherness you feel when you’re beside him. Swatches of paints that echo the color he brings into your life, and yet rooted in the solitude you’re still learning to be comfortable with. Visions of him in your own solitude, also creating a version of yourself that will continue to learn from him as much as he learns from you. And still art at the hands of him, both when you’re loving him wholly, and at this comfortable distance from each other.

And by the summer months, he’ll love you at a close proximity when you’re ready again, exchanging passionate embraces behind the curtains at galleries and making love to you in your shared apartment. He’ll continue to draw for you, and remain the biggest fan of the two-piece figures you illustrate with watercolors, capturing the same sense of togetherness and yet unwavering solitude that comes with breaking yourself down to the world around you. And the love will be reciprocated unconditionally by you, who finally feels seen at the hands of somebody who perceives you beyond just a concept.

But for now, he’ll remain right here, at this comfortable distance, allowing himself to learn from you as much as you learn from him. And the love will be undemanding, but it will be real, tangible.

[ ᴛᴀɢs: @drhsthl , @straykeedz-recs , @caitlyn98s , @moonlinos , @cottonsthings , @jaykyo , @write143 , @pinkcinnamon444 , @maximumkillshot , @auraleeknow , @skzms @coastalmaine , @venomracha , @lmhcats , @felinows , @maexc , @kang-min-joo , @liinoracha , @sealovesbts , @hanniessleepyeyes , @hyunjinsamdl , @chans1aptop , @yomomma104 , @sheraall , @kbbok , @silentreadersthings , @beomkgyu , @diorrxluvskz , @dancerachaslut , @jeannie-beannie , @heeseungshim , @weareapackofstrays , @bethanysnow , @inlovewithmusician , @kite-lee , @heartheartisa , @katsukis1wife , @minhosbitterriver , @y-ur--i , @seung-mine , @sskzlover , @bomi-ja , @crisle19 , @binniesbang , @leritzreyw , @lixiesundrop , @chopchopslide-juggalo , @vsereniasstuff , @morethancupcake , @fun-fanfics , @awillowbent , @unstiqn , @lixiesfairygf ]

add yourself to the tag list here.

#stray kids #skz #skz smut #stray kids hard hours #Hyunjin smut #hyunjin skz #request #skz hyunjin #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang Hyunjin #skz scenarios #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids hyunjin #Hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #Spotify

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boiohboii · 10 months

Text

The surprise guest (who had to be protected by the host)

Lando Norris x Leclerc! Reader

After Lando Norris had a make out session with YN Leclerc on his stream, it hadn't been intentional, he had been too scared to come face to face with any of his girlfriend's three older brothers. But when his girlfriend's mother invites him over for dinner, he can't just ignore her

in which Pascale Leclerc invites her daughter's boyfriend (or as she likes to call him, her fourth son) over for a family dinner

N.B: I feel like the humor isn't what most of you expected and I am so sorry, I swear I am funnier irl 😭 hope you guys like it... special thanks to @glai1023-blog and @flowerchild-96 for the idea of mama leclerc doting on Lando

For context

The brothers' reactions to the steamy stream

Social media reactions

YN had always been close to her mother, she always told her about her new hair ideas, how she wants to cook a new recipe and her crushes, so when YN started dating Lando Norris her mother was the first person to know (with the promise of not telling her brothers)

Pascale had met Lando quite a lot in the 9 months that the young couple's relationship had stayed secret from her brothers. To say Pascale adored the young Brit was an understatement.

Pascale Leclerc loved Lando Norris like her own son; she learned all his favorite foods, what are his preferred desserts and the meals he hadn't been able to taste before (so that she could make it for him)

With that being said, the Leclerc parent is always big on family. She had instilled in her childrens' head that even if you are busy, you must have a day each month for a family dinner and that all five members of the Leclerc family must be present.

Except for this month, six members were present at that dinner, and three of them were ready to kick the intruder out if it not had been for their mother hitting them on the back of their heads.

It had all started out normal- well as normal as it could be when just a week ago you had seen your sister making out with her boyfriend on live.

Pascale had been in the kitchen making dinner with the help of YN while the three male Leclercs were too traumatised by last week's events to face their sister. It's not that they didn't want to ask her questions, they really did, they wanted to interrogate her, but whenever they catch a glimpse of her they remember the phone screens showing her and her boyfriend.

Boyfriend. That was one person they would love to meet. Charles could probably know where Lando Norris is whenever he wanted, that was the perks of having the same circle of friends, team workers who were also friends and same bosses. Did he want to talk to him? No. Did he want to beat him? Yes.

The doorbell interrupted the brothers creative imagination of how they could kill the British driver. As Arthur was closest to the door he went up to see who it was, not expecting the one who they murdered 100 different ways in their haeds to be standing at the door with 2 bouquets of flowers, a box of chocolate and a box of what appeared to be a cake.

"Oh, umm, hi?"

Lando was about to piss his pants, he saw that expression change on Arthur's face, and he was the youngest of his girlfriend's brothers. With every second Arthur stared at him his heart rate increased with sweat filling his palms as his throat tightened up.

"Who is it Arthur?"

Shit, fuck. Lando knew that voice all too well, and he was not ready to have his head nailed to the front of the paddock for everyone to see.

"Oh dear, hello my son, Arthur move out of the way."

The gentle voice of Pascale Leclerc stopped any and all movements in the living room.

"SON!"

The three Leclercs exclaimed in sync, looking at the young brit with wide eyes and clenched jaws.

The boys' anger increased as they watched their mother fuss over the boy, thanking him for the flowers as she called their sister to place them in a vase, giving him a hug and kissing his cheeks.

"Oh lovely, you didn't have to bring anything. Is that your favorite dessert then?"

Lando was all too aware of the three pairs of eyes staring at him, and if looks could kill he'd be 18 feet under. Gulping, he gave Pascale an awkward smile, too scared to actually utter a word.

Noticing his trembling hands and terrified glances at her sons, Pascale glared at the young men "you three! Stop it!"

"But mum-"

"No! I don't want to hear a word out of any of you if it's not going to be nice! You should respect you sister's boyfriend and my guest!"

"It's a family dinner! You never invited any of our girlfriends to a family dinner before"

"Oh my god," now that's a familiar voice Lando loves hearing "stop being babies about it."

Moving closed, YN took the flowers from Lando's hands "ohhh, mum, he got you your favourite!"

"Thank you love." Giving him a peck on the lips, YN smiled at him, and upon hearing her brothers' groans and complains she gave him a wink before kissing him again.

■■♡■■

The three Leclerc brothers were like Hyenas, waiting for their mother to stop protecting their pray so they could have a word (with their fists.)

Sitting at the couch facing the open kitchen they watched as their mother dotted over the British driver, stretching her hand for him to taste the food on the spoon before giving her a wide smile

"You three look like Scar." YN teased as she took a seat besides Charles

"Mon ange," Charles started as he rotated in his seat making him face to face with his sister "please, why didn't you tell us?"

"YN, Lando Norris, really?" Arthur whined as he looked at his younger sister, waiting for an explanation of hers.

"You three are really insufferable," YN stated as she looked at them with a devilish smirk "if you guys are wondering why i didn't tell you, it's just cause I know you three will be earing my ear off about our relationship and yes Arthur, Lando Norris, he makes me happy and he kisses me oh so-"

"LALALALALALAAA" Arthur screamed at the top of his lungs, making his sister laugh while their mother scolded them for the noise

"No, but really," YN took a sip of water "he is really nice to me, he treats me really well and he is so respectful-"

"Oh yeah, making out on live is oh so respectful of him" Lorenzo rolled his eyes then glared at the young boy in the kitchen, getting head pats from their mother like a golden retriever.

"Oh god, don't remind me man" Charles groaned as the image he tried so hard to erase came back much more vibrant and clearer, as if the presence of Lando just solidified it in his brain.

"Okay listen," YN huffed as she crossed her arms "if you don't like him then okay, fine, I will end it before it goes any further, but it was an honest mistake on both of out parts. We're not into that kind of thing."

"God, will you stop doing that!"

"Do you want to tramatise us?"

"Oh god, I did not need to know anything about this."

Hearing her brothers whine and groan from her teasing brings YN the greatest of joys. Was she planning on actually breaking things off for her brothers? Hell no, they're not little princesses they can keep their emotions in check.

"Mon ange, are you really sure that you like him?"

"Yes!" YN insisted as she looked at him like he grew 2 heads "will you just please get to know him?"

Sighing Charles bit his tongue, not wanting to actually upset his sister with what he really wanted to say.

"Okay mon ange, I'll talk to him and I'll make sure everything is normal," Charles got up to make his way to his mother who was now in a matching apron with Lando as he listened to her every word, basking up the praises and head pats given to him "just please, if he hurts you or if you feel like you aren't his top priority don't stick around okay. You are worth so much more than a race driver."

"Aren't you one?"

"Exactly."

With that, Charles left his siblings heading off to his mother with a pout as he spotted her patting the Brit's cheek with a full smile

"God, he's so whipped for her." Arthur told his brother, shaking his head.

"Yeah well, I told him it'd bite him in the ass someday."

"Hey! I'm not that bad!"

"YN," Lorenzo looked at her with a blank expression "you take full advantage of it and you know it."

■■♡■■

It had been an hour and now the family of five and their guest are sitting at the dinner table, having their first bite of the homemade dinner.

"Oh, this tastes phenomenal Mrs Leclerc. I hadn't had that in a while"

"Oh dear, I'm so glad you like it!" Pascale cooed over the young boy, getting up to place more for him on his plate "YN told me it's one of your favourites."

"Thank you so much darling." Lando smiled at YN, feeling more at ease with the glares sent his way as Pascale Leclerc glared right back at her sons.

"Mum," Lorenzo started as he looked at the food in distaste "I don't eat that, you know."

"Well," the mother smiled at her son sarcastically, making sure to get her point across "if you don't like it, then don't eat."

"Oh, c'est brutal maman." Arthur murmured under his breath, looking at his oldest sibling in pity

("Oh, that's brutal mum")

"I said no French!" Pascale warned her youngest son before turning to her now favorite son "tell me Lando, do you like Vanilla cakes?"

"Not really no, but YN told me it's your favorite so I bought it from what I also believe to be your favorite dessert shop."

"Oh dear, you really are my favorite," four voices of a 'mum!' yelled in the dinning room which did not take any of Pascale's attention away from the British young man "you're going to make me swoon."

"Oh my god," YN whispered to her brothers "we lost her."

"Yeah well," Lorenzo grumbled at his sister "he is your boyfriend"

"I lost my mum to my boyfriend."

"Oh, he went out of his way to go to her favourite shop," Arthur stated "she's not letting him go anywhere."

"I think you lost both of them mon ange."

■■♡■■

{Taglist: @idaesrhy @masonspulisic}

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #f1 #lando norris x y/n #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x leclerc!reader #lando norris x leclerc reader #charles leclerc sister #charles leclerc x sister!reader #leclerc!reader #arthur leclerc x sister reader #older brother arthur #lorenzo leclerc x sister reader #lorenzo leclerc #older brother leclerc #older brother charles #brother!charles leclerc

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authorhjk1 · 5 months

Text

Welcome party

Kang Seulgi X Bae Irene X Male Reader

Stop it already."

You chuckle, making your co-worker's thighs quiver. Your warm breath makes her squirm in her seat.

"I didn't have breakfast."

"But-"

Her voice is interrupted by a deep moan. Your tongue flicks against her clit, making it difficult for her to concentrate on the task at hand.

"Why can't you eat breakfast like a normal person?"

A long lick along her folds makes her pussy lips glisten with spit and her arousal.

"I'm eating right now."

You dive back into your first meal of the day.

"You're supposed to eat food. Not pussy."

Her thighs press against your head as you suck on her clit. It seems she likes it more than she can admit.

When the two of you joined the company together, four years ago, you both had this sexual tension. It only took you a couple of weeks, before the two of you started to fuck everywhere. The bathroom, on your desk after everyone was gone, on her desk, on your boss's desk, even on set.

But, who could blame you?

With a woman like this?

How could you not?

Well, it all slowly came to a hold about a year ago. The two of you weren't able to see each other often, since you were positioned in different departments. And the minor inconvenience that she had a boyfriend.

But as soon as she broke up with him, she was all over you again. You talked about the good old times. One thing let to another...

And here you are. Kneeling under Bae Irene's desk, devouring her pussy like it's your last day on earth.

"The boss is gonna be here soon."

You don't answer, digging your fingers into the soft skin of her thighs.

The two of you recently started working together, which means you are sitting in the same office. True to the older days, you both came in way too early.

Which exposes the fact that Irene is currently putting up an act. You know that she would never miss out on an opportunity like this.

"So sweet."

You mumble between licks, making Irene cover her mouth with one hand. No one else is here, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

"Have you always been this good?"

"I've had years of practice, remember?"

All the things you learned about her body seem like muscle memory to you. It has only been two weeks since the two of you got back at it again. And yet, Irene told you that you had sex more often than she had during the whole year, while she was in a relationship.

"That naughty tongue of yours... Fuck!"

Despite being older, Irene loves how you take care of her like this. Her pussy is dripping wet by now, the chair slowly starting to get stained.

"10 more minutes. She is gonna be here by-oh god!"

You interrupt her again. While your hands knead her full thighs, you suck on her clit, letting your tongue flick against it occasionally.

"I don't take that long."

Your cocky response makes Irene grin. She can't see you, but she reaches for your head, pushing your face further into her pussy.

And before your boss comes in, Irene's body freezes in her chair. As if someone pressed the pause button. You can't see her face, but you know her eyes and mouth are wide open. A silent moan leaving her mouth, her back as straight as it can be.

A moment later, she crashes down. Falling into the backrest, her legs quiver and shake.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

With one last sigh, her body calms itself. You have one last lick, making her flinch, before you wipe her juices off your face.

Why would you eat pancakes or bread for breakfast, if you can just feast on this pussy?

"What do you think?"

You sit across the older woman's desk, nodding at her question.

"I think it would be a good idea."

"Of course you do."

You chuckle, while leaning back into the chair.

Because you are working for a small company, your boss is everyone's boss. Around a hundred people are currently part of the production company "Seongwan designs".

You and Irene have been there from the beginning. Naturally, the two of you have the highest positions, after your CEO Miss Kim.

"Are you almost done with editing by now?"

You smile.

"Yeah. It's gonna be a good MV."

Seongwan designs is offering something that not many companies would. Producing music videos for entertainment agencies. It was a risky move at first, but now, you have a lot of projects. Even from the big three.

"I haven't heard the song yet, I'm too busy. Is it good?"

"It's Twice. How can it not be good?"

Miss Kim nods.

"Of course."

She reaches for three slim portfolios.

"These are our new employees. I know you have a lot on your hands. But so do Irene and I. Would you mind?"

"No problem, boss. I will show them around."

"Great. Irene is currently on set?"

"Yes."

"What's her theme for Itzy's new comeback? She hasn't reported it to me, yet."

"It's Christmas themed."

You and Irene have a lot of liberties, but Miss Kim occasionally wants to check in on you. It's her company after all.

You lose your train of thought as you stare at her. You always thought that there is no one who could rival Irene's beauty. And yet...

After pulling yourself together, you introduce yourself, before the three new employees do the same.

Your eyes are glued to her face, when it's finally her turn.

"I'm Kang Seulgi. I will do my best. Please take care of me."

She bows respectfully.

You already catch the man, who just introduced himself, staring at her.

Since you and Irene are not in any kind of relationship, you imagine yourself having some fun with Seulgi after this tour.

The way she looks is incredible. Her long black hair has blue highlights in it, making her look a little more fierce. Her smile makes her look adorable. But her stare? Fuck. She almost looks evil.

Her white crop top is exposing her beautiful midriff and her small waist. Her chest looks just as good.

Her shorts are barely long enough. Her legs are covered by a pair of fishnets and her big, black boots.

The imprint on her shirt and the bear on her waist make her look cute. But the fishnets, shorts and boots make her look dangerous.

The combination is too much for you.

"And this is where we usually eat lunch." You end the tour by showing them the cantina. It's a small one, because a lot of the crew are working on different sets and locations. It's never completely full and looks kinda cozy.

"What a coincidence."

You check your watch.

"It's lunch time."

You chuckle, while pointing behind you.

"Help yourself."

Seulgi smiled at your joke, which makes your heart skip a beat. If you could just have her for lunch...

You shake your head as you turn around to follow them.

While you wait in line, you get a call from Irene.

"Grabbing lunch?"

"Yeah."

"What's on the menu?"

"Tteokbokki."

"Oh, damn. Can you save me some?"

"Sure. See you."

You hang up as it's your time to order. Having worked with her for four years, you know exactly what side dishes she likes to eat.

"Two servings please."

Once you got the food, you blindly follow the one in front of you. Seulgi. It wasn't even intentional. And yet you find yourself sitting next to her, at the table with the two new guys. You catch both of their uneasy eyes.

"Relax, guys. While we are in this room, I'm not your boss. Eat up."

You watch them reaching for their chopsticks.

"For how long have you been here, sir?"

You glance at Seulgi, before reaching for your own.

"Four years. Right from the beginning."

"Wow. You must know a lot about producing."

"There is always more to learn."

You are a very humble person, despite being the second most important person in the company. Well, if you don't count Irene.

Speaking of the devil, you see her entering the cantina. You weren't able to "catch up" with her this morning. You regret it even more, when you see what she is wearing.

If you would have declined to show the new ones around yesterday, you would know what Irene is wearing underneath that dress of hers. But you are sure you're going to find out soon enough.

"Pabo."

"Idiot."

You great each other as usual, before she takes one of the plates off your tray. The food does look delicious and you can't wait. You were nice enough to wait for her.

"How is it going with Itzy?"

Despite looking at Irene, you can almost feel Seulgi's eyes widen. You've gotten to know her better over the last hours. She seems to be a pretty gentle and curious person.

"We are managing."

"That sounds like a delay."

You wait for Irene to finish chewing on the rice cake in her mouth.

"No shit, Sherlock. We had to do the group dance scene like a thousand times."

You are used to her bickering, after all, you are not the one she is mad at.

"But you got it now?"

"Yeah. But we are behind on schedule."

It's silent for a moment as you and Irene eat your food.

"M-May I ask a question?"

You turn to Seulgi.

"Sure. What is it?"

Your reassuring smile gives her confidence.

"Why is it so bad, if you can't keep the schedule? It's not your fault, right? Shouldn't their company deal with it?"

"You are way to naive."

Irene dismisses her by waving her hand, before reaching for the glass of water in front of her. You decide to explain further.

"You might think so, Seulgi. But their company doesn't. They usually have a release date set already. And if we don't meet their expectations, it's our fault. It doesn't matter, if their idols mess up."

"I see."

Seulgi nods, before returning to her food.

You give Irene a quiet glare, to not let her frustration out on the new employees.

The older woman glares back at you.

"Stop looking and eat."

You roll your eyes.

Irene quickly uses her chopsticks to steal your boiled egg.

"Hey."

She grins at you, before putting it into her mouth.

"Please. You can have mine, sir."

You see Seulgi's egg in between her chopsticks.

"It's alright, Seulgi. Thank you though."

"Please, I insist."

You nod awkwardly, letting her put her egg into your bowl.

If you would've looked up, you would have seen Irene's disapproving glare.

Yes, the two of you aren't in a relationship. But she can't help but feel weird by the way Seulgi treats you. She is the one you are supposed to fuck after all.

Making sure you know that as well, Irene moves her foot underneath the table.

You look at her as you feel her shoe rub against your crotch.

"I want you so bad right now."

Irene captures your lips with hers.

"You are some needy slut, you know that?"

"Shut up and kiss me."

The two of you stumble into the bathroom.

Since it's right next to your office, you both work in one room, there aren't many people who use it. Irene's reputation of being a little cold keeps them away. Which makes the bathroom a great place for eating your dessert.

Irene's warm lips taste like the Tteokbokki she just ate. Her tongue explores your mouth, searching for your own.

You feel her hand undoing your belt as your right one sneaks around her waist.

"Praise me."

She mumbles into your mouth as your pants drop to the floor.

"You're so fucking hot."

You say between breaths, before kissing her again.

"I love how small your waist is."

Emphasizing your point, you place your second hand on it as well.

"More."

Irene sighs as she takes off your boxers.

"Your pussy is the tightest I've ever had."

You make her moan by kissing her neck.

"Your skin is soft and tasty."

You just say whatever comes to mind.

Irene is stroking your cock, while the two of you keep making out.

"I love how your thighs wrap around my head, when I eat you out."

Irene moans, remembering yesterdays morning.

"Tell me how good I suck your cock."

She bites your lip as she strokes your cock, making it hard.

"I think you need to show me first."

Irene pulls away, a naughty grin on her face.

She drops to her knees, your cock right in front of her.

"How can I resist?"

She licks your shaft, closing her eyes.

"That cock of yours."

She sighs, almost to herself. You could think she starved for days by the way she starts to give you head.

Her lips wrap tightly around your tip, before Irene bobs her head up and down. Her tongue is pressed against the underside of your cock, playing with your tip, whenever she pulls away.

"You are amazing."

You feel her smile around your cock.

Irene let's her lips glide along the length of your shaft a couple times more.

"This tastes so good."

She kisses around your tip, before licking up your precum.

"I might get addicted."

True to her words, her blowjob increases in pace once more.

Irene places her hands on your thighs, ready to face fuck herself onto your cock. You reach out to put her hair behind her ears.

Gag after gag escapes her mouth as Irene starts to go up and down your shaft with an incredible pace. You don't know why she is so aggressive today, but you love it.

It only takes a short amount of time for her mouth to make you weak. You weren't lying when you told her she is amazing. She really is good at this.

You can't believe her makeup is still intact as she uses her mouth to pleasure you. Irene becomes sloppier by the second. Some of her spit is already staining the tiles she is kneeling on.

"Fuck. You are so good at giving head."

You sigh as Irene just won't stop devouring your cock.

"I-I want to fuck you."

Her work makes you stutter already. But only those words can make her stop.

You haven't fucked her since yesterday. That's a long time already. You finally want to feel her pussy again.

Irene let's your spit covered cock fall out of her mouth.

"Make me scream."

That's all she says before you pull her up.

For the hundredths time since you two work together, you bend Irene over the sink. That position alone makes her short dress ride high enough to expose her cheeks.

"How could you wear something like this? People could think this is actually see through."

You reach underneath her dress to knead her right cheek.

"Don't talk. Just give it to me."

You reach for her center, ready to slide her underwear down her creamy legs, but you instead touch her naked pussy.

"You really are a slut."

Irene rises her head to look at you through the mirror.

"I'm not. You are the only guy I fuck."

You raise an eyebrow. You don't have anything exclusive going on and you expected Irene to be able to fuck anyone she wants.

"I only dress like this so you can give me a good pounding whenever I need one."

You grin, knowing what she means. You see Irene's naked body pretty much everyday. There is nothing the two of you haven't done with each other yet.

With your wet dick in your hand, you push inside Irene's tight snatch. Her own saliva is lubricating your cock enough for now.

"Oh gosh. This never gets old."

She sighs as you push further. Your cock slowly fills up her pussy. It's unbelievable how tight Irene is. For a moment, you wonder if your new co-worker is just as tight...

Irene's moan brings you back to reality, when you bottom out inside of her.

"Fuck, that's it."

She sighs in disappointment.

"I wish we had more time, but I only have a couple of minutes."

She locks eyes with you through the mirror.

"Fuck the stress out of me. Hurry up."

You gladly start to fulfill her request.

Deep and hard thrusts push Irene's hips into the sink. Her hands hold onto the edges, her knuckles slowly start to turn white.

"Yes!"

She hisses through her teeth, enjoying how deep you are inside of her.

As you continue to fuck her, you start to increase your pace. As you fuck the stress out of her, Irene's hair starts to become a mess in her face. Her volume increases. The sound of your hips meeting her cheeks echo through the bathroom.

"Fuck me harder!"

Her tight pussy makes it difficult to last very long. You feel her flexing her muscles, trying to make you cum as fast as possible.

Your hands glide from her waist towards her shoulders. After brushing her hair away, you take hold of them, using your grip to pull Irene's full body against you.

"Oh gosh!"

Irene loses her grip on the sink, reaching behind her to hold onto both of your arms. Taking a step forward, you are almost lying her onto the sink, her face mere inches away from the mirror.

You see mist form on the glass surface as moan after moan escapes her mouth. Keeping your pace, you feel her getting closer.

You know all the signs by now. The way she furrows her eyebrows, the way she bites her lip, the way her moans sound. They all tell you that Irene can't keep this up for much longer.

"Fuck!"

Her hair keeps swinging wildly in front of her face as you take her from behind. How often did the two of you do this? Right here? Probably at least five times in the last two weeks.

"Make me cum! Hurry up!"

You almost have to chuckle. How is she still able to worry about her schedule? Pressing your lips together, you use more force to thrust into her.

By now, Irene's head shakes uncontrollably with ever push and pull.

"Fuck!"

If she is still able to scream, you aren't fucking her hard enough.

It only takes a couple more of your powerful thrusts, until you can finally convince her body to climax.

As always, Irene seems to be frozen. Her mouth hangs open, her glassy eyes stare at you through the mirror.

A moment later, her knees buckle, a deep moan escapes her lips, and Irene almost falls to the ground.

You keep her standing, letting her stay in this position, bend over the sink.

"I'm close, too."

She smiles to herself, slowly getting on her knees.

You watch as she starts to take your shaft into her mouth again. Her mouth replaces her pussy, sucking her own juices off your cock.

"Fuck, Irene."

You groan, feeling your orgasm approaching. The combination of her pussy and mouth is something no one can resist. Not even you. Eve though this is almost an everyday occurrence.

You cup Irene's right cheek with your hand as she looks up at you. She does look a little more relaxed, although you expect her to call you tonight. The rest of her day is going to be stressful as well.

The thought of fucking her again and the way Irene's tongue swirls around your tip, finally makes you cum.

"You are so good at that."

You are barely able to mumble those words, before you unload inside her mouth.

Irene hums in satisfaction, waiting for you to finish. Once your eyes are focused again, you watch her gulp down your cum.

"You are turning me into an addict, you know?"

You laugh as you help her up.

"Cum is good for your health. That's a scientific fact."

Irene chuckles as you pull your pants back up.

"I call you."

With that, your co-worker is gone.

You scratch your head as you go over the documents and scripts. Something is missing. Where did you put the script for the next dance video? You sigh in frustration, sometimes you hate that you can be messy. You definitely put it on your desk earlier. Right?

You get up, looking around the office. Or is it in of the shelves?

You start to go through them, looking for Twice's dance video script. It's supposed to be released together with the MV. The shooting for the music video is done, but you have to start with filming the dance video. The girls are coming over tomorrow.

Or maybe one of the stylists took it to prepare their outfits? You hate it, when people just take your stuff.

"Bloody hell."

You grumble as you walk out of your office.

Reaching the floor beneath yours, you look around the big room. Around thirty desks. Half of them are occupied, all of them have at least one shelf standing behind them. You groan internally. You still have to finish editing.

As your eyes wander through the room, they get caught up on the person who is sitting a few meters away. Maybe she can help you find it.

You asked Seulgi to go through some old footage after lunch, hoping she could gather some useful information for future projects and maybe even learn something.

"Seulgi."

You call her, while walking towards her desk.

Her eyes seem to be glued to the screen, her complete being indifferent to everything that's going on around her. Including you.

"Seulgi?"

You are only a few steps away. You see that she has taken some notes on a piece of paper, but the pen is lying on the desk now. She is biting her nail. It looks like she is watching something way too interesting.

"Kang Seulgi."

She almost falls out of her chair, when you call her name. Standing right beside her, you see how her cheeks flush red.

A look at her monitor makes you swallow hard. She must have taken the wrong video tape out of the material room. Miss Kim keeps the old tapes on the right side. And the security footage on the left. Seulgi seems to have picked up the wrong kind of video.

A video of you to be exact. Well, you aren't the only one in it. The other person is actually sitting on your lap. You see yourself in your own chair, your pants around your ankles.

No other than Bae Irene is riding your cock like crazy, her hips slamming down onto you.

You curse Miss Kim for unnecessarily keeping all of the old security footage.

You look at Seulgi. Her eyes are wide open in shock. Her innocent face is red with either shame or arousal. You are not sure yet.

Glancing at the monitor again, you see the time stamp. Seulgi must have watched this for at least half an hour by now.

"Come."

You turn the video and monitor off, before walking away. Not turning around, you hear Seulgi's hurried footsteps. The two of you pass by the cantina, follow two different hallways, until you find yourself in the underground parking lot.

Finally turning around, you see Seulgi standing there. Her fingers are intertwined in front of her as she looks down, a coy look on her face.

"I-I'm sorry, sir. I must have picked the wrong one."

"And you only figured this out thirty minutes in?"

"N-No. I-"

"Did you like watching it?"

You see Seulgi bite her lip, but she shakes her head.

"I was just about to turn it off, sir."

You take a step closer. Her vanilla sent was covered by the smell of food during lunch, but you can now freely enjoy her smell.

"You only watched, right?"

"Y-Yes, sir."

"Then what is that?"

You point at the center of Seulgi's shorts.

She gasps, before covering it with both hands, without even looking down.

There is nothing there. But it confirms your assumption. If Seulgi did more than just watch...

"I spilled some water earlier. It was a mistake."

Seulgi bows.

"It's alright."

You put your hands in the pockets of your pants, which seems to relax her a little. Looking around, you confirm that there aren't any cameras around.

"Take them off."

"What?"

Seulgi looks at you. Completely bamboozled.

"Take off your shorts."

"But-"

Your eyes meet and Seulgi can't do anything but nod.

You watch as she starts to undo her belt, before opening the buttons. She looks down, trying to avoid eye contact.

Her waist looks even smaller as Seulgi pulls down her shorts. You see that her black panties are darker in the front.

"What do you think about me, fucking Irene?"

As you ask her, you let a finger slide behind her waistband.

Seulgi's breath hitches. She looks down at what you are doing, until she finally answers.

"I-I liked it."

"What did you like?"

Your finger glides along the smooth skin right above her snatch.

"I liked h-how often you made her cum."

Your finger reaches her clit, when she says the last word.

"Are you prepared to cum right here?"

Seulgi opens her mouth to protest, but you circle around her clit. A moan comes out instead, which makes her cover her mouth immediately.

"Don't be shy. No one is here."

You take her hand off her mouth with your own.

"I've seen how you looked at me today. I'm not surprised."

Seulgi looks away, unable to admit that she was actually checking you out.

"I've meet more than enough girls like you."

Your hand moves a little lower, your finger slowly parting her lips. You feel Seulgi's wetness slowly coating your finger.

"You all think it's fun to seduce your boss, until he makes you his sex toy."

You slip your finger inside her as you say the last word.

Seulgi's wide open eyes look up at you. Her cheeks are still red, now definitely because of arousal.

"Then, you all want to stop. Because you think so highly of yourself."

You move your finger slowly. In and out.

Her body is reacting to your touch. Your other hand is now reaching for her top, your palm slightly presses against her right chest.

"You think, you could have any man you want, don't you?"

Seulgi is unable to speak. She never expected you to dominate her like this. She feels dirty, but good. Your finger makes her rub her thighs together.

"Do you want the truth?"

You wait a couple of moments, your finger moving in and out, until Seulgi nods.

"A woman like you is only good for one thing. Her body."

You inch closer, kissing her neck. Your warm breath gives her goosebumps. She doesn't step back, her feet feel like they are glued to the ground.

"You can't have any man you want. You can only have one man. One man, whom you belong to."

Irene wasn't the first woman you slept with, so you have enough experience to judge Seulgi's character. Although she acted modest, her outfit was definitely not. She visibly liked the attention from your co-workers. And yet, she gave you her egg during lunch. She couldn't keep her eyes off you.

You expected her to be innocent on the outside, while she is dirty and slutty on the inside. Your judgment finally turns out to be true.

Seulgi still doesn't talk back to you. She only moans quietly, her thighs rubbing against each other.

"That means, I can use you however I see fit."

You knead her breasts over her top, making Seulgi gasp.

"When, where and how."

To emphasize your point, you insert a second finger into her needy cunt.

"Do we understand each other?"

Seulgi sighs heavily as she feels both of your fingers move inside of her.

You are not very dominant with Irene, partially because she is quite dominant herself. But you like to be in charge. Just like this. Since you can't really do that with Irene, Seulgi will have to suffice.

"Answer me."

She finally nods. The young woman finally admits to her slutty side. She knows that this is how it should be.

"I will count down from ten now."

You start increasing your pace, after curling your fingers upwards inside of her.

"If you cum too early or too late, there are gonna be consequences."

You don't even have to ask if she understood anymore. Seulgi is already nodding, pressing her lips together.

"10"

Seulgi holds onto your arm, trying to stand upright.

"9"

Your other hand is still playing with her chest above her top, switching from left to right.

"8"

A cute whimper escapes Seulgi's mouth.

"7"

Your move your fingers inside of her, feeling how wet she is becoming.

"6"

Seulgi is moaning freely by now. She has stopped caring, only enjoying the pleasure that radiates from her center.

"5"

Her hips buck forward, her body starting to get out of control.

"4"

Seulgi is trying her best to make herself cum by thinking about what she watched. She wishes she could be the one, bouncing in your lap.

"3"

She imagines how big your cock must be, the camera didn't have a good angle. Irene was always blocking the view.

"2"

Seulgi feels her body heating up, her cheeks are flushed red. Her eyes are closed as she whimpers loudly.

"1"

She feels how you cup her breasts as you finger her. Both sensations make her stumble towards the edge.

"Cum."

"Oh goooood!"

Seulgi moans loudly as she shakes, her pussy contracting around your fingers.

Her orgasm is quite different from Irene's. While the older woman feezes, Seulgi moans and shakes, cuming wildly on your fingers.

"Holy-"

You shut her up by kissing her, finally tasting those lips that look so inviting.

Seulgi is barely able to react as her body moves on its own.

You lick your fingers as if you just ate something sticky. Seulgi's pussy juices definitely are delicious.

Entering your office, you see Irene sitting in her chair.

"Back already?"

She turns around.

"Yeah. Where were you? One of the stylists came by to return your script. It's on your desk."

Your mood is too good to be annoyed that someone took your stuff without asking.

"Tanks."

You walk past her to get to your own chair.

"Am I actually going to see you tonight, or are you gonna ditch me again?"

You raise and eyebrow at Irene's question.

"I know you are an workaholic. Especially while editing."

You roll your eyes.

"Don't worry, I will be there tonight."

Irene nods.

She suddenly stands up to look at you above her monitor.

"Or are you getting tired of me?"

The sudden change in her voice makes you shake your head. As if Irene is suddenly sad.

"Of course I'm not. How could I grow tired of a woman like you?"

Irene gives you a weak smile.

"Well, I'm not getting any younger."

You chuckle.

"Neither do I. But you are still one of the hottest women I've ever seen."

She looks around the room, clearly not knowing how to respond.

"Well, thank you."

You see her fidgeting with a piece of paper.

"Is it about what we are doing then? Has the sex with me become too boring?"

You shake your head.

"Maybe we should switch it up a little."

You lean back in your chair, raising an eyebrow.

"How?"

Irene shrugs her shoulders.

"What haven't we done so far?"

You think about it for a while.

"I think we are just missing something new."

You look up, when you hear Irene break the silence.

"You use all my holes on a regular basis. I make you cum, you make me cum. We tried domination and everything."

You remember how it felt, being tied up to the chair in her apartment. Irene didn't hold back that night. She did everything she wanted with you, without you being able to resist.

"We did it in public, here, and on set."

She continues on with her list.

"We used toys and all. What are we missing?"

"Wy don't you google it?"

You ask jokingly.

To your surprise, Irene sits back down.

"Good idea."

You chuckle. You've known her for four years and she keeps surprising you.

"I did some research."

You look down at Irene. Her head is resting on your naked chest. You play with her hair as the two of your recover from your recent activities.

"And?"

Irene shuffles around a little, putting one of her legs over yours. She can feel the cream pie you left in her ass, slowly oozing out. Her ass is still sore, which makes it a little uncomfortable.

"There is some stuff we didn't try yet."

"I'm listening."

"We never did something with like... other people, you know?"

"Other people?"

You wonder if you would be able to share Irene. Of course she is beautiful enough for two guys. But you don't know how you would feel, fucking her together with someone else. It already felt weird, knowing that she slept with her boyfriend, while they were together.

"You mean, you want two guys to fuck you?"

You feel Irene's hand glide over your abs as she paints lazy circles with her fingers.

"Not necessarily. Although it could be nice."

It dawns on you a moment later.

"Another woman?"

Irene hits you.

"Don't sound too excited."

You chuckle, patting her head.

"Are you sure?"

Irene nods.

"Why not? It's not like I'm not gonna get anything out of it."

"Do you have someone in mind?"

You wait for Irene to think about it.

"A certain co-worker comes to mind."

You feel your cock harden, thinking about Seulgi.

"Who?"

You pretend to be oblivious.

"Seulgi. The one who keeps drooling while looking at you."

"Don't exaggerate."

"I'm not."

She raises her head and turns it towards you.

"I heard her, when I left work. She was in the bathroom downstairs, getting herself off by thinking about you."

You laugh.

"I'm serious. I didn't even have to go inside. I was able to hear her moan your name as I walked by."

"Can't blame her."

Irene sighs in annoyance.

"Don't think too highly of yourself."

You lie your hand back on her head, making Irene lie down on your chest again.

"So, how do you want to approach her? Just ask?"

She shakes her head.

"I think it's not that easy."

You think about how you fingered Seulgi in the parking lot. It kinda was.

"We should come up with a good strategy."

The two of you think about it for a while.

Two days later

You stop your car, taking a look at the cozy hotel. It has old-fashioned Korean style.

After getting out and walking closer, you see Irene coming out from the front door.

"You are late."

"Work."

You simply reply, before the two of you walk towards the entrance.

"Is Seulgi already here?"

"Yeah."

The two of you told Seulgi that the whole company is gonna throw a welcome party for the new co-workers. Of course, Seulgi wanted to come and even asked if you would be there as well.

You are now seeing her walking towards the two of you.

"Hi, sir."

"Hello, Seulgi."

You greet her.

The two of them wear big boots, which doesn't get past you unnoticed.

"Look at that dress of hers."

Irene whispers as Seulgi walks in front of you two.

"I bet she is hoping she is gonna get lucky tonight."

"Let's make sure we even surpass her expectations."

"It seems like they are all running late."

Irene says as the three of you "wait" for the others.

You are all sitting in a small room around the table on the ground. Seulgi is sitting next to you, while Irene sits across from you.

You like how she is dressed. She left her white fur coat behind and is now wearing a white top, that shows off her shoulders. Her brown skirt is partially see through. The tie at the front is practically begging you to pull on it. The combination of the skirt and her black, knee high boots makes her legs look longer than usual.

Seulgi lost her down jacket as well. She is definitely wearing this blue, skin tight dress on purpose. Because she is sitting cross-legged, the hem has moved up her thighs. You only have to glance down to get a glimpse at her white panties.

You place a hand on Seulgi's naked thigh. She shivers at your touch, her panties slowly becoming damp. Your hand slowly moves up and down her thigh, occasionally moving the hem of her dress up even further.

Irene starts a conversation with Seulgi. The latter is unable to respond properly.

"Are you alright?"

Irene "notices" that Seulgi is acting a little awkward.

"I-I'm fine."

She manages to say, closing her mouth quickly, before a moan escapes.

The two continue their conversation, while you begin to rub Seulgi's pussy through her panties. They slowly start to become transparent due to her juices.

Irene pretends to be oblivious to Seulgi's moans. The younger woman isn't able to keep quiet anymore.

After you and Irene decided to make Seulgi the lucky girl who gets to sleep with the two of you, you came up with a plan on how to seduce her.

"If you go to the bathroom now and record a video of you fingering yourself, I'm gonna fuck you tonight."

You stop moving your hand as you speak through your teeth, making Seulgi think that Irene is still in the dark.

Seulgi sighs at the lack of your touch, before hurriedly excusing herself.

The two of you watch your new co-worker rush to the bathroom.

"I wanna see how she looks when she cums."

You chuckle at Irene's words.

Pulling out your phone, you see that Seulgi is video calling you. You pick up and position the phone, so that you and Irene can watch, without Seulgi knowing.

You hear her moan and mewl. She has already gotten rid of her panties and is now sitting on the closed lit of a toilet.

Her fingers move in and out of her pussy, making her juices drip down her thighs.

"What do you think about making her beg for it?"

"What do you mean?"

The two of you watch Seulgi.

"We planned on you fucking her and me coming in. Why don't we switch that up?"

"Sure. When do you want to-"

"I don't want to do it upstairs."

Irene gives you a knowing look as you feel her hand rest on your crotch.

You place your phone on the table as you see Irene crawl towards you. She starts to unbutton your pants to the sounds of Seulgi fingering herself in the bathroom.

Her cute moans seem to turn on Irene just as much as they turn you on. The older woman's head is already resting above your cock. She can be quite quick to get rid off your pants, when she wants to.

Her lips feel as good as they always do as she wraps them around your tip. You caress her naked shoulders, feeling the smoothness of her skin.

Judging by the volume of Seulgi's moans, you can confidently say that she is close to orgasm. You hear her saying your name once in a while. It makes you push Irene's head further down. She hums, acknowledging your need for more pleasure.

While you enjoy Irene's blowjob, you hear Seulgi finally reaching her orgasm. With a shriek, she cums all over her fingers, almost dropping her phone. Her legs quiver and her chest is moving up and down at a very quick pace.

It almost has the same rhythm as Irene's head as she keeps sucking you off.

"Seulgi is done."

You inform Irene, waiting for her decision on what to do next.

She straddles your lap, slightly lifting her skirt in the process. She shows off her lack of underwear, grinning proudly.

"Fuck me."

She slowly lowers herself onto your cock.

You groan as you penetrate her pussy, gliding inside her entrance.

You fucked Irene in the bathroom just this morning. And yet, here you are again, feeling her weight on your lap as she sinks down to take in all of your cock.

You start to pepper her naked shoulders with kisses as Irene slowly begins to ride you. It's more sensual than usual. Instead of bouncing up and down, she circles her hips on top of you.

When Seulgi slides the door open, her eyeballs almost fall out of their sockets. She can't believe what she is seeing, her mouth wide open.

You are still sitting next to the table, your back now turned towards her. Irene is sitting in your lap, grinding against you, while rotating her hips. Seulgi sees that your pants are gone.

"Hello, there."

Irene greets her as if she just came in for work in the morning.

"W-What-"

Seulgi is unable to process what is going on.

Irene wants to say something, but your cock grazes her g-spot in that moment. A moan comes out of her opened lips.

Seulgi is still standing in place. She is too shocked to stay or to leave. She doesn't know what she is supposed to do. The two of you look so fucking hot. But you are still her boss...

"You want his dick so bad, don't you?"

Irene starts to speak up, her tone dripping with lust.

"You can't though. This is all mine."

She locks eyes with Seulgi, while grabbing a fistful of your hair. She makes you lick her shoulders, while she keeps moving on top of you. You are more than happy to taste that porcelain like skin of hers.

Seulgi mumbles inaudible words.

"W-What? H-How?"

"Tell me how bad you want him to rail you. Maybe I will give you a chance."

Seulgi is still standing in the door, completely bamboozled.

What is she supposed to do?

"Fuck, your pussy is so tight."

You can't help but groan. You don't even do it to lure Seulgi in. It's just a fact.

"Your cock is just so big. It splits me open."

Irene moans. You don't know if she is exaggerating, but you think she told you this a couple of times already.

Seulgi can't help but let her hand slide over her dress. Because it's so tight, she doesn't even need to lift it to rub over her clit.

"You are such a slut, Kang Seulgi."

Irene mocks her as she keeps grinding on your cock.

"Wearing that slutty dress, thinking (y/n) would fuck you."

She let's out an evil laugh.

"You don't get any of his cock, until you beg for it. Like a good little whore."

Seulgi has been thinking about this, since you made her cum two days ago. Is she really this kind of woman? What would her parents say to all this? She only met you two days ago. But her bosses are now asking her to beg. Is this really where she wants to work? Shouldn't she just quit? Isn't this sexual harassment?

But for some reason, her snatch still responds. As if Seulgi's body needs this. She knows it's wrong and yet, she finds herself kneeling on the wooden floor.

"Please, let me have some cock, sir. Please."

Seulgi whines, hoping to convince you quickly.

Maybe this kind of work environment wouldn't be so bad. Getting fucked by her boss on a daily basis? Seulgi can't say no to that.

You turn your head, seeing Seulgi kneel on the floor. Her hands are rubbing her naked thighs. She is obviously desperate, despite just cuming in the bathroom. She is hesitant to touch herself, not sure if Irene would scold her for it.

Irene let's out another moan, slowly starting to go up and down on your cock instead of just grinding her hips.

"I knew you are slut."

She takes your glass and spills the contents onto the wooden surface of the table.

"Clean that up. Maybe you are lucky."

Her empty promises make Seulgi hesitate. Her boss is making her clean up the table, just so she can sleep with you?

"Use your tongue, cutie."

For a moment, Seulgi is disgusted. She would never clean the table with her tongue. But the way Irene calls her cutie, makes Seulgi feel something different. Similar to what she feels when you order her around, but not quite the same.

She finally crawls forward, kneeling right behind you. Irene takes her hand off your shoulder, holding Seulgi's chin in her hand.

"You would do anything for you boss's cock, wouldn't you?"

A glance at your face makes Seulgi nod. If she could be the one in your lap...

Irene pushes her head downwards. Seulgi sticks out her tongue, feeling the numbing taste of the alcohol. Why do you have to drink whiskey? Seulgi hates it's taste. And yet, it makes you even more attractive in her eyes.

She now closes them, trying her hardest not to flinch as she laps up the brown liquid.

At the same time, Irene keeps riding your cock. She is visibly turned on by ordering Seulgi around. Her pussy feels wetter than usual. And tighter. The view of her naked shoulders make her look extremely sexy. You can sometimes see a hint of her pussy, sliding down the length of your cock, through her skirt.

Looking to the side, you have to gulp as you see Seulgi, almost bend over the table. Her ass looks so good in that dress. The white lace hem is slowly riding up her thighs and you are able to see a glimpse of her soaked panties. They are practically see through by now.

The view is almost too much for you. Adding Irene's constant riding to it, slowly starts to overwhelm you.

You can't help but place a hand on Seulgi's ass. You knead her cheeks through the blue fabric, enjoying their fullness. She moans into the table as she is about to finish cleaning.

"Spank the shit out of her."

Irene whispers into your ear.

By now, it takes a lot of willpower to raise your hand. Your body urges you on to just get a hold of Irene's hips and make her go faster. It's screams for release, but you manage to hold back.

A loud shriek echoes through the room, when your hand meets Seulgi's right butt cheek. She never expected to be spanked. It's more out of shock than pain, but she shrieks yet again, when you hit her left cheek.

"Take daddy's spanking, baby girl."

Irene moans in Seulgi's direction, before letting her head roll back. It exposes her beautiful throat. You start to kiss that spot, slightly pressing against it.

Without even looking, you give Seulgi another set of spanks. She moans loudly.

"Please more, daddy. Spank me so much, until you are satisfied. Just please, let me have your cock."

You are surprised that Seulgi is calling you daddy, without Irene having to tell her to do so.

Even Seulgi doesn't know what has come over her. The pain in her ass cheeks makes her pussy wet.

"More begging."

You feel Irene slowly coming to an hold. She knows your body we'll enough to not make you trip over the edge. She slowly starts to get off you, her slick pussy leaving your cock drenched with her juices.

"Now that your tongue is warmed up, you can eat my pussy. I will let you have some cock afterwards."

You and Seulgi both notice that Irene left out the word maybe. The younger woman nods eagerly. Is this her final task?

The two of you watch Irene, quickly getting rid off the last two glasses and the small plate of egg rolls. She sits down on the edge of the table, right in front of Seulgi's face.

You scoot back, the room is a little small. Seulgi dives underneath Irene's skirt, aiming her tongue at her pussy. For a while, you are just content with watching.

Irene combs through Seulgi's hair as she eats her out. You hear the noises the younger woman makes and Irene's moans.

Your gaze lands on Seulgi's ass. That dress of hers just looks so good on her.

You can't hold back anymore.

Kneeling down behind Seulgi, you hike up her dress. A little is already enough for you to see her full ass. Sliding her panties to the side, you start to eat her out.

Seulgi's pussy tastes delicious. A little different from Irene, but still delicious.

You make her moan into Irene's cunt, which makes the older woman moan in return.

Their lewd sounds fill the room as you pleasure Seulgi and she pleasures Irene.

After having climaxed just a couple of minutes ago, Seulgi's pussy is still sensitive. You can feel it by the way she keeps grinding against your face. She is desperate and needy.

It takes you little effort to make her orgasm. Years of experience with Irene make it easy for you to know how to eat out Seulgi properly.

"Daddy!"

Seulgi's loud moan is muffled by Irene's pussy as she cums on your face. Her legs shiver and her back starts sagging.

When you finally get back up, your eyes meet Irene's. Without words, you are able to tell her that you can't hold yourself back much longer. She nods in understanding.

"Are you ready to be daddy's office slut, baby?"

Seulgi nods, her face buried inside Irene's snatch.

"Tell me how often you want him to fuck you."

Seulgi lifts her head to look at Irene.

"Everyday, please. I don't care where, or who watches. I just need that cock."

You are surprised at Seulgi's cravings. She has never even seen your cock in real life. Only on the tape from security. How did Irene make her so desperate?

"In the morning, during lunch, after work. I don't care as long as he fucks me, please."

Seulgi turns her head to look at you over her shoulder.

"Please, daddy. I will be an obedient toy for you. Just give me your cock, please."

You align your cock with her dripping wet cunt.

An unbelievably deep, lustful moan leaves Seulgi's mouth. As if she has waited for this for months. She feels your cock spreading her pussy lips apart, penetrating her further and further. You feel even bigger inside of her than she expected. She struggles with your girth, realizing that Irene wasn't exaggerating earlier. You really are tearing her pussy open.

"Daddy."

She whines, wanting you to stop, but wishing you would keep going at the same time.

"Make her take all of your cock at once."

Irene raises her chin to see what's going on behind Seulgi.

You keep pushing deeper, until you finally bottom out inside of Seulgi for the first time. She moans and mewls, trying her best to adjust to your size.

"What are you waiting for?"

Irene eggs you on as she plays with her own pussy, Seulgi unable to keep eating her out.

"She is yours. It doesn't matter if she can take it or not. She has to."

For a moment you hesitate, but a look at Seulgi's ass makes you move. You pull out of her quickly, before slamming yourself back inside.

"Oh god!"

Seulgi almost screams. Irene enjoys Seulgi's wide open eyes as you start to fuck her.

Both of their moans must be audible outside. A lot of people must be complaining already. But you don't care.

Experiencing the tightness of Seulgi's pussy makes you forget the rest of the world. She is so wet and tight, making you feel like you are in heaven.

Your thrusts become quicker and harder, the longer you are inside of her. Seulgi's moans increase in volume, while Irene keeps fingering herself.

"Take that cock, honey."

She mumbles in Seulgi's direction, almost too far gone to further degrade the younger woman.

"Take that cock like the whore you are."

You doubt that Seulgi even heard her, her own moans too loud.

"You're tearing me open, daddy! You're so big, daddy!"

It only took you two days to turn Kang Seulgi into your personal slut. You wonder what the future brings.

You imagine yourself, sitting at your desk, while Seulgi kneels underneath, sucking you off. But one thing is for sure, this is not gonna be your last threesome with Irene and Seulgi.

The older woman's body freezes as she finally reaches her own climax. She didn't expect to cum this hard. But she is now unable to hold herself back, after degrading her new co-worker.

And Seulgi? Seulgi's head is only filled with one thought. How hard you fuck her pussy. She is unable to think about the future. She is even unable to think this over. Her mind is in a state of pure bliss as you take her from behind.

Your hands hold her small waist, pulling her back towards you with every thrust you do.

You see another message pop up on her phone. Seulgi's parents are asking her for the third time now, when she is coming to Christmas dinner tonight. Little do they know, what their cute little daughter is doing now.

In fact, Seulgi is being quite naughty. Even on Christmas. You swipe the notification away, focusing back on recording.

Seulgi is kneeling on her knees in front of you, doing what she seems to love. Sucking you off.

Her red and white Christmas outfit almost got her in trouble at work.

Luckily, you are her boss, which means you took Seulgi into your office giving her a little "talk".

She is now at your place, enjoying your cock, instead of being at her parent's for dinner. You are sitting in one of your comfortable chairs, recording Seulgi's every move. Your Christmas tree in the background really matches Seulgi's outfit.

You tear your eyes off the display, when you hear Irene coming in. She changed into a similar outfit after coming here.

The older woman leans down to capture your lips with hers.

This might become the best Christmas of your life.

Pushing Seulgi aside, Irene straddles you. The younger girl knows better than to complain. She got her fair share of your cock earlier at work. Celebrating the special day, you decided on taking Seulgi's ass, while she was bend over Irene's desk.

The latter has inserted your cock into her pussy and is now riding you. It is definitely her favourite position. It gives her more control over the situation and degrades Seulgi even more. Because Seulgi isn't allowed to ride your cock. She is only here to be used.

You hand her her own phone after finishing the recording, focusing on Irene on your cock. Seulgi gets wet at the fact that she now has something this sexy, but dangerous on her phone.

She watches Irene bouncing in your lap, letting her hand rub her pussy, waiting for her turn to feel your cock.

You spend the rest of the day in both of their pussies, already excited for what's to come tomorrow.

You discovered what Irene did to Seulgi after you fucked her ass. She inserted a butt plug into the younger girl's ass. Now that you remember, you tell Seulgi to turn around. Once she does, you pull up her dress, spreading her ass cheeks apart. The sight almost makes you drool. The metal fits perfectly between Seulgi's cheeks. Something seems to be engraved into it.

"Daddy's play thing"

----------------

Hi everyone!

I hope you enjoyed the second story. I apologize for the bad quality of Seulgi's pictures and the lack of pictures of Irene in that outfit, but I was unable to find more or better ones.

This took me a little longer, being almost 10k words long. I think this is the most words I've written at once. Sorry for the slight delay, compared to last time.

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #red velvet smut #red velvet #seulgi smut #red velvet seulgi #seulgi #seulrene #irene #irene red velvet #irene smut

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oppopotamus · 6 months

Text

Shoe riding

gojo satoru x top male reader

Warning: nsfw, gojo has a pussy, shoe riding, face slapping (like once), name calling (slut, baby, sweetheart etc), face riding, face sitting, sending nudes, kind of mean reader??

Satoru had always been a little shit, that much was known but nobody knew how much of a tease he was.

Satoru had one of his very few 'free days' where he can take time off of work, it was very rare for Satoru to ever get any sort of break.

Usually you take time off of work to spend it with Satoru since you don't get to see him that much.

Though unfortunately, you were called into work late as it was understaffed and many we're sick and you were the last resort basically.

Satoru begged you to stay, saying he'd do absolutely anything. Whether that be paying you for the next week until you got your next paycheck, or by doing something a little bit more... Scandalous.

You were extremely tempted to take that offer but your boss had threatened you that you'd lose your job if you took yet another day off.

So, you had no choice but to go in.

Satoru was feeling grumpy as he walked around your shared house, he just wanted to lounge around in bed all day with you!

I mean, he's plently rich enough to pay for both of you but you insisted that you didn't want him paying for everything.

Satoru finally had an amazing idea. Well, amazing to him atleast.

Satoru stood infront of the full length mirror that stood in your bedroom. He was wearing nothing but the pretty white lingerie you had brought him a while back which he never really got to wear, thought today he was going to show you how much he loved the gift.

Satoru got his phone camera ready and started taking pictures, many, many pictures. He posed in ways he knew would get your attention and posed in ways he didn't even know how he did!

Just to show you how flexible he was, of course.

Satoru selected the pictures he had thought were the best, all in the lingerie he hadn't taken any nude selfies. Not yet atleast.

He finally sended them to you, he didn't know if you would reply or even if you would see the message.

When you get a text on your phone from the one and only Satoru Gojo you think it's important enough to open.

Once you open them your calm demeanor disappears and you cough to avoid suspicion.

"Are you quite alright, (Name)?" One of your coworkers asks, "Yes, perfectly fine. Just got a bit of a cough."

"Don't you think you should head home then?" Another nosy coworker asks after listening in on your conversation as per usual with them. All your coworkers were very nosy people.

"Ah, boss wouldn't let me head home even if I asked." You said sadly, the photos would not get out of your head. Gojo in all those pretty poses, just begging for you to take him.

You try and shake the thoughts out of your head and attempt to think of something different in hopes your red face would disappear.

"Your face is burning up! (Name), you should really head home. If the boss doesn't let you leave I'll give him a piece of my mind!" The lady you we're just talking to before says.

"Ah, thank you very much but there's no need. I'm sure I'll be fine." You say, before you get another text from Gojo.

This time he's posed so he's sitting on the ground with his legs spread and facing the mirror so you can see everything through the thin fabric of the lingerie.

The photo had been sent with a text below it simply saying, 'come take it off for me?'

Oh god, you were in trouble. You could feel your pants start to get tighter. You don't know how you can even attempt to keep your cool now.

As if on que, your boss comes strolling in asking you where you've been and that you need to report to his office at once to approve some documents.

You're about to follow before a coworker pipes up saying, "He is much to sick, sir! (Name) can absolutely not work in these conditions!"

"I second that! If you don't excuse (Name) from work I'll take it to the higher ups and report you for not letting a sick employee go home." Another coworker says firmly.

You can almost see veins popping out of his head in anger so your boss decided it would just be easier to send you home than having to deal with the higher ups.

"Fine! (Name)... You're free to go home." Your boss says, you can sense the anger coming from him so you quickly pack up your things, saying a small 'thank you' to your coworkers who helped you out.

You're just getting into your car as you get another message from Gojo with yet another photo.

This time the image is of him still with he legs spread except he has moved the lingerie so it shows off his pretty pussy.

Fuck. This man is going to be the death of you.

You send him a message saying 'I'm coming home now. You've been bad, Satoru. Get ready.'

You can practically see Satorus scared face through the screen.

You start your car and head back home, once there you park the car and head to open the door.

You stop in the front entrance and take off your blazer and hang it on the coat rack.

You head up to the bedroom door and open it. "I'm home, Satoru-" You don't finish your sentence before you stop and stare in wonder of how pretty Satoru is.

Satoru's sitting down on the bed, patiently waiting there with his knees under him.

You walk over to him, standing above the bed with your tall height towering over him. You bring a hand out to cup his chin and raise it so he's staring right at you.

"Such a pretty boy. Aren't you, 'toru?" You ask, though you get no answer back. "So very pretty. Too bad you're such a brat." You spit out the last words and raise a hand across his cheek, slapping him. Not enough to really hurt but enough to make him gasp from shock.

Gojo whimpers as you drag him forward, he has to put his hands out to stabilise himself so he doesn't fall off the bed.

"Just a slut, aren't you? Can't even wait a few hours for me to come home. You just had to interfere with my work."

"M'sorry.." Gojo says in response, he's not really sorry at all. He loves the way you act when you get this way.

He'd do it all over again and you know he will, whenever that may be. He's just too much of a slut.

"On your knees." You say gesturing to the side of the bed where you currently stand.

You turn around and sit down on the bed as Gojo scrambles to sit down infront of you.

Once he's sitting on his knees infront of you, you gesture for him to move forward. He does so he's awkwardly sitting there between you legs, he begins reaching out to your crotch before you stop him.

"No, sweetheart. I want you to ride my shoe. I'm not helping you get off today, you've already interrupted my day enough."

Satoru gulps at that and hesitates before he sits atop one of your shoes.

"Like this?" Satoru asks, "Yeah, just like that, baby. Good job." You smile down at him and Gojo suddenly feels proud, as if he's such a good boy, just for you.

Satoru finally starts moving, moaning out as his clit comes in contact with your shoe. He moves forwards and back again, it's not nearly as pleasurable as when you touch him.

He has no idea whether this will make him cum or not. He feels good but it doesn't feel quite enough.

"P..Please.. Need- Ah!" Satoru moans out as he ruts back and forth on your shoe, getting it dirty with his wetness.

"Hm? Tell me what it is you need." You say down at him as you play with his hair while he moves faster and faster against your shoe.

"C-can't." He says shaking his head side to side fastly while he shuts his eyes tightly so he can't see you looking down at him. You know that he will get a headache if he keeps doing that so you grab his chin and force him to look up at you.

"Look at me and tell me what it is you need, baby." You command. He finally cracks his eyes open and looks up at you.

"Need you..." He says, "I'm right here, sweetheart. Tell me what you want me to do okay?" You say while smiling down at him.

"P-please.. Want you to touch me."

"But I'm already touching you, baby. See? You're humping my foot like some dog."

"No.. I mean-" You cut Satoru off and grab his chin tighter, causing him to squeak in surprise.

"You've been such a little slut today, you know? I don't think you deserve to have your way. I think you should just sit there and do what I say. Understood?" Satoru whined at the harsh words but nods anyways, continuing to grind on your shoe.

He lets out groans and whimpers but he soon realizes that just humping your shoe is not nearly enough to get him off.

He wants you touching him, with your hands or for you to have his cock inside him, stretching him open till he cries from pleasure and pain.

Though apparently that's not going to happen today and it makes him whine.

He pleads and begs you, he doesn't even know what he's saying anymore, he's just spewing out words.

You reach down and yank his hair back, he yelps in pain and grips your leg tightly.

"Please!" He whines out, moving faster trying to chase that release he so desperately wants.

You sigh, "Fine, come up here." You say moving back on the bed and lay down.

He crawls up with a dazed smile on his face, and straddles you.

"C'mere baby." You say grabbing his hips and pulling him up to sit on your face. Satoru hesitates for a moment before lowering himself down.

"Ah!" He moans out as you move your tongue inside him. He grinds down on your face, you feel his juices spreading across your face as he moves back and forth.

Satoru moans out as he feels his release finally creeping up.

He's not going to last long, he knows he's going to cum any second. Riding your shoe made him get so close but not nearly far enough.

He repeats your name over and over, getting so close to his release. His clit rubs over your nose while you tongue at his hole.

You're starting to get slightly light headed with him on your face but you know it's not going to be much longer until he cums so you're not worried.

"(Name)! I'm gonna- Oh god-" Just before he finishes his sentence he's squirting all over your face, wetting it.

He sits and breathes heavily for a moment until he calms down and rises off of your face.

"Haah.. Thank you.." He says, looking down at you with a dumb smile on his face.

#male reader smut #amab reader #male reader #dom male reader #top male reader #jjk x male reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x male reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru

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hellodarling1357 · 3 months

Note

Hello! Heard your requests are open so could I please request a cassian x f!reader fic where the reader is a babysitter for cassian's baby girl (maybe less than a year old). cassian is a single father so as time goes on and cassian sees reader bonding so well with his baby, he starts liking her more and more. eventually asks her out and they end up getting together and all❤️

Tiny Toes

Thank you so much for the request! I had the best time writing this, it honestly could’ve gone on forever

A/N: sorry for the slight Nesta slander, I really do love her as a character but needed to have her do this :(

Enjoy 🥰

Word Count: 6.6k

You didn’t think you would be babysitting at this stage in your life but with your boss firing you because you refused to sleep with him, and then refusing to put in a good word for you when potential employers contacted him for a reference, it seemed like the next best, and your only, option. If anything, it was a means to an end in terms of supporting yourself whilst you got back on your feet and sorted something else out; the fact that you absolutely adored babies and children was just a bonus perk of the job.

When your close friend Elain told you that she knew someone who would really appreciate your help, you jumped at the opportunity. However, what you weren’t expecting was to come face to face with the General of the Night Court’s armies, crying baby in his arms and a distressed expression of his face.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, hi…” You trailed off, unsure how to address the male in front of you. General? Lord? But he didn’t seem to notice your hesitancy as he gestured you inside.

“Hey, I’m Cassian. Seriously, thank you so much for agreeing to this. I know it’s last minute, but somethings come up and I just… Well, I really need the help, so thank you.”

You smiled at him, taking the time to look around the open layout of the house as he tried to settle his crying daughter. You couldn’t help but cringe a bit at the state of the place. There were baby clothes and toys everywhere, plates and dirty laundry piled up, not to mention the daggers and knives that seemed to be scattered throughout the place.

“This,” Cassian said as he walked back into the lounge room, the babe now happily looking around, “is Otilia, or Ottie. Ottie, this is Y/N, she’s going to be looking after you while Daddy is away. You’re going to be a good girl for Y/N?” Ottie just smiled up at him as though he were her favourite person in the world, making happy little noises as she kicked her feet and grasped at the front of his top.

The sight had your heart melting. If you didn’t already know who Cassian was, there was no way in a million years you would’ve guessed that the male in front of you was the infamous General, the Lord of Bloodshed.

With Ottie still is his arms, Cassian moved around the room, gathering items, and trying to clean up what he could before leaving.

“I’ve left a note in the kitchen, just with all the general things like nap times, where the baby food is, where the nappies are, what her favourite toy is. But she’s a pretty happy baby so hopefully she won’t be any trouble.”

“I’m sure she’ll be perfect, won’t you, sweetheart?” You cooed at the little girl as she watched you with wide eyes. “Here, do you want me to take her so she can get comfortable with me while you’re still here?” You offered, as she wrapped her small hand around your finger.

“If you don’t mind. Don’t be offended if she starts crying, she usually takes a few minutes to warm up to new people,” Cassian passed her over, helping her settle in your arms, a protective hand cupping her cheek as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Well, look at that, you’re clearly some sort of baby whisperer.”

Smiling down at her, you gently tickled her with your pointer finger, grinning as her feet started kicking, her sweet melodic laugh filling the room. Cassian hurriedly pulled the rest of his gear together, sending lingering looks over to the pair of you as he did so.

“Everything alright?” You asked as you sat on the green velvet couch, Ottie still in your arms. You knew how hard it could be for the parents, having a complete stranger looking after their children, so you tried to give Cassian the chance to ask any questions or dispel any concerns before he left.

“Yeah, yeah sorry of course. All fine.” He seemed to hesitate before leaning against the table as he watched Ottie, a loving smile gracing his features. “Sorry,” a sheepish expression replaced that smile as he met your eye, “it’s the first time I’m leaving her, and I can’t seem to make myself walk out the door.”

You softly laughed, trying to ease his tension as you said, “That’s completely normal. If it helps, is there a way I can get in touch with you while you’re out? That way you’ll know straight away if something happens?”

He gave you a grateful smile but shook his head, “No it’s nothing like that. After everything I’ve heard Elain say about you, I trust you with her completely. It’s more so that I just don’t want to be away from her, don’t want to miss anything, you know? Even if it’s just the same smile I’ve already seen a hundred times,” He chuckled as he got up to press a kiss to the top of her head, then her cheeks, then her tiny, clenched hands. “Trust me, I know how pathetic this sounds, I don’t even know why I’m telling you, but I just really love hanging out with her. It’s just been the two of us against the world, especially after everything that happened with…” He suddenly stopped, as if catching what he was about to say.

“Anyway, I should be off. I’m already half an hour late and have had Rhys mind yelling at me for the last 15 minutes. Thank you so much, Y/N. I should only be gone a few hours.” With a final kiss to Ottie’s cheeks, Cassian walked out the door.

"Well now, what are we going to do today, sweetheart?" You asked the small baby in your arms. She just fixed you with another smile and burst into giggles.

*****

You had spent the better part of an hour playing with Ottie, hoping to tire her out so that she would easily go down for her nap. You plan miraculously worked, after wrapping her up in a blanket and running a soothing hand over her stomach, she fell fast asleep without even the smallest fuss. Cassian was right, she was a happy baby.

You quietly closed the door behind you and headed down to the kitchen. With nothing else to do, you figured you would help by cleaning the place up. With the dishes washed and drying, the benches wiped, and rubbish taken out, you started on the piles of laundry, however, a small painting tucked behind a chair in the corner of the lounge room piked your interest.

You picked Cassian out of the painting immediately, the telltale red Siphons and overall uncanny accuracy making it an easy conclusion. You tensed upon looking at the female painted beside him. The similarities between her and your High Lady were all too familiar, this was clearly her sister, Nesta.

Quickly putting the painting back where it had been hidden you felt guilt course through you; you hadn't meant to snoop. You knew what had happened between Cassian and Nesta. Everyone knew what had happened. They had been mated for just five years before falling pregnant then two weeks after the baby, after Ottie, had been born Nesta had simply left. It was all the people of Velaris could talk about, wild rumours and stories spreading about what had happened. Eventually, the truth came out; she had left Cassian, left her baby, for Eris.

Elain had explained to you the pressure her sister had felt and had realised she was only with Cassian because everyone had said that was what the mating bond required. But she wasn't actually happy with him, and Cassian hadn't been happy with her either. Then there had been a visit to the Autumn Court, and something had sparked between Nesta and Eris. She had felt torn and confused but a baby was never something she wanted, and Eris was offering her a life where she could be her own person, not someone shadowed by her High Lady sister, according to Nesta.

Given all of this, you were surprised by how put together Cassian seemed. You couldn't imagine the conflicting emotions he would've felt with his mate leaving just days after they had had a baby. But he seemed to have picked up the pieces and, no doubt, had the support of his family during that time, but you supposed there did reach a point where his duties to the court had to be met again, and you were more than happy to step in and help where you could.

*****

Several hours later, you had just finished giving Ottie her lunch when a piece of paper appeared on the table in front of you:

Y/N, Cassian has asked that I let you know he is going to be later than anticipated and that he is very sorry for the inconvenience. However, if this doesn't work, let me know and I'll have someone over to watch Ottie as soon as possible - Rhys

You blinked.

Rhys? As in Rhysand, your High Lord? Just casually sending you a magically note? You blanched at the thought of him even knowing you existed, which, you supposed made sense, seeing that you were friends with his wife's sister.

You didn't mind staying longer to look after Ottie, but you had no way of conveying that to Rhysand or Cassian. As if your thoughts had been sent out into the abyss, a pen appeared atop the paper as if in answer to your question.

Hesitantly, you picked it up, unsure how to even start a note of this manner that would be read by your High Lord.

It's not a problem, High Lord. Please tell Cassian that I can stay as long as required - Y/N

You didn't have a chance to read over the message before it was whisked away by magic. But, shit. Cassian had introduced himself to you as Cassian, but should you have referred to him as General in your note? Had you been too informal or improper. Before you could mull over it any further, the piece of paper was back in front of you:

Lovely.

By the way, just Rhys is fine - Rhys

Well, that settled that matter.

*****

You had given Ottie her dinner and put her down for bed with little fuss. There had been a few tears once she sensed that Cassian wasn't there, but you had managed to coax her back to her happy little self by quietly singing and rubbing soothing circles across her dark mass of hair until she fell asleep.

Now you sat curled up on the couch with the makeshift dinner you had prepared and a book that had been on the bulking bookshelf that sat in the corner of the room. You were sure that Cassian wouldn't have minded your rummaging through the pantry but had made enough for him to eat once he came home just in case.

An hour or so later, you had been so engrossed in your book that you didn't hear the front door open or the heavy footsteps that padded down the hall.

"Hi," You looked up with a slight jump, having been startled by Cassian's sudden presence. He was leaning against the doorway and looked absolutely exhausted. "Y/N, I am so sorry. I was up at some of the Illyrian camps and, well, things were worse than I anticipated... I won't bore you with all that, but I am so sorry for keeping you here."

You brushed him off, noticing the tension somewhat leave his body upon realising you weren't bothered by it.

"It's fine, I promise. The High Lord... Rhys," Cassian grinned at your correction, clearly privy to the notes that had passed between the two of you, "said you were going to be late. If it wasn't going to work, I would have let him know."

Cassian offered you another grateful smile as he slumped into the armchair opposite the couch. "How was she? Not too difficult?"

"She was perfect. A few tears at bedtime but we managed to sort that out. I think she was just missing you." You could have sworn his eyes twinkled at your last comment.

"Before I head off, I cooked some dinner and left a bit to the side for you in case you were hungry when you got back. I hope you don't mind?"

"Mind? Y/N, you are honestly cauldron sent. You also cleaned? All whilst looking after Ottie. Thank you."

You felt your cheeks heat up and preyed he wouldn't notice your slight blush.

"It was nothing, seriously. I had nothing else to do while Ottie was sleeping so thought I would help out. Why don't you go up and see her? I'll get dinner heated for you."

Cassian sent another grateful smile your way before leaving the room, you laughed to yourself as you heard his steps pick up in pace as he bounded up the stairs towards his daughter's room.

*****

He came back 10 minutes later just as you were putting on your coat and collecting your belongings.

"I've left your dinner on the stove to stay warm." You said over your shoulder. He really did look exhausted.

"Thank you, you have no idea how much of a life saver you were today." You brushed off the compliment as he led you towards the front door. "Oh, before you go, we never spoke about payment? How much do I owe you?"

Honestly, you hadn't even thought about payment, it had completely slipped your mind.

"Right. Don't worry about that now–"

"Y/N, I'm not going to not pay you for today."

"No, I know. But you look like you're seconds away from passing out, no offence. So go back inside, finish your dinner then go to bed. We can sort the money part out later."

"Okay, only if you're sure? Thank you again, so much. Get home safe, alright?"

"I will. Night, Cassian."

You had barely made it to the front gate before the door was opening again.

"Y/N? Before you go, would you mind looking after Ottie again in a few days? Rhys is needing me to get back into my work, so I'll need to have someone watching her while I'm away. You're so good with her, so if you wouldn't mind..." He trailed off.

"Of course, she's an absolute angel. I would love to look after her again. Let me know when you need me."

"Okay, Goodnight. Thanks again."

*****

Over a year had passed since you first met Cassian and Ottie. After the first few weeks, Cassian had sat you down and asked if you would be happy looking after her on a more permanent basis, so you had decided on four days a week while Cassian was busy helping out Rhys and the Inner Circle. Sometimes you would stay until later into the evenings if Cassian came home with piles of paperwork, helping with Ottie's bedtime and cleaning up the house, despite Cassian's protests that it was his mess to deal with.

"Y/N?"

You had just finished feeding Ottie her dinner when Cassian appeared in the doorway. You looked up at him, waiting for him to continue as you wiped the food away from her chubby cheeks.

"Ottie is turning two on Saturday, and I was just wondering, if you weren't doing anything, if you wanted to come to her birthday party? It won't be a big thing, but she adores you and it would be nice to have you there," You smiled at him, delighted that he even considered you important enough to be there to celebrate, but before you could reply, Cassian hurriedly continued, "Of course, there's no pressure. You probably want a break from us, it is your day off after all…"

"Cass, I would love to be there." His face lit up as your response.

"Good. Okay. Great," He remained in the doorway, still softly smiling as he watched you pick up Ottie from her highchair, "Well I better... Still got some work to finish off, so..." He gestured back towards his office and then made his way out of the room.

You were caught off guard by the momentary awkwardness that seemed to radiate from him, not used to seeing him in any other way but the confident and playful General who was absolutely smitten with his little girl.

*****

Standing outside Cassian's house, you lingered on the doorstep as you hyped yourself up to knock on the door. It had only just dawned on you as you walked over that the guests at Ottie's birthday party, weren't going to be any old day-to-day fae. No, you were about to spend the afternoon with your High Lord and Lady, and their inner circle. Not a daunting prospect in the slightest.

As luck would have it, you weren't given a chance to psych yourself out before the door opened, revealing a grinning Cassian and Ottie who merrily clapped and said your name when she saw you, arms reaching out for you to hold her.

"Hello, Birthday Girl. Don't you look beautiful." She giggled as you cooed at her and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Hi, thanks for inviting me." You looked at Cassian now who was fondly watching the scene in front of him playout.

"Thanks for coming," Cassian opened the door wider for you to come inside, taking the pink gift bag you had brought with you that contained Ottie's birthday present. "Fair warning, everyone here has a bone to pick with you."

You froze, body tensing at his words.

"What?" You would have cringed at the stutter in your voice had you not been so worried. But Cassian just laughed and led you further into the house, a hand on the small of your back.

"Well, apparently since you've come along, Ottie doesn't have the time of day for anyone else. She was fussing all morning until she saw you walking up the road through the kitchen window. You seemed to have gotten lost somewhere between the gate to the door with how long you stood out there, so we thought we would see what you were doing, didn't we Ottie?" Cassian gave you a knowing smirk, clearly aware of your nerves towards who you would be spending the day with.

"Come on, I'm just joking. They're all dying to meet you."

Right on queue, a female, who you knew without needing to be told was Morrigan, jumped up from her seat as you walked into the room.

"Y/N," She squealed as she bounded over and pulled you into a tight hug, Cassian quickly grabbing Ottie out of your arms. "It's about time we all finally get to meet you. First Elain kept you all to herself, and now Cassian? If you had said no to coming today, I would have gone over to your house myself and forced you to be here."

"Mor..." Cassian's tone was laced in warning, but you immediately felt at ease in her presence.

"Come on, let's introduce you to the others."

*****

To your absolute delight, the rest of Cassian's family welcomed you into their group with open arms. Elain had jumped up and refused to leave your side once she noticed you had arrived. Having been away with Lucien for some time, it had been a while since the two of you had been able to catch up.

After the presents had been opened - Ottie had adored the fluffy bear you had gotten her - everyone was lounging outside, watching as little Nyx sat with his younger cousin in his lap, showing her all of the presents she had received and telling her the best way to play with them in order to have the most fun. Clearly the ever-destined High Lord in the making, you had grinned, already seeing the type of male he would become as Feyre and Rhys watched on sharing content smiles.

It was only then that you realised that Cassian was missing from the group. You excused yourself and headed back inside, searching the house until finally finding him in Ottie's bedroom.

"Hi," You voice was quiet as you made your presence known, unsure if he had just forgotten something up here or if he needed a moment to himself.

"Hey," He turned to face you, looking as though he had just been pulled out of some sort of trance. However, his lopsided smile was quick to return as he said, "sorry for leaving you out there with that lot."

Letting out a laugh you walked into the room, "They're really not that bad. Imagine what the other courts would think if they ever saw the High Lord of the Night Court dressed up in a pink tutu with a fluffy matching crown on his head."

Cassian laughed at that, smile widening as the voices and shrill giggles from outside echoed through the bedroom window, but that reserved expression was quick to reappear.

"You alright?" You quietly asked, already having a sense of what was eating him up.

"Yeah, fine." A glance at your unconvinced expression had Cassian letting out a low sigh before continuing. "I thought she would've at least shown up today. I know she wants no part in this, but it's still her daughter’s birthday. For Ottie's sake, I thought she would've shown. She needs her mum."

You let out a sigh of your own now, crossing the space between you and wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.

Pulling away you said, "Cass, I get it. Believe me I do. But Ottie is doing just fine. You're absolutely amazing with her and it's so special watching the two of you together. And in terms of her needing her mum, look at all the amazing females Ottie has in her life: Mor, Feyre, Elain, Amren. There's no short supply of love for her, if anything, Nesta is the one missing out on this."

The words had rushed out of you without being able to truly process what you had said. You and Cassian had never directly spoken about Nesta, it had always been an unspoken awareness that you knew what had happened and that was enough. Looking at the ground, you could feel yourself tensing with worry at the thought of having overstepped.

"And she has you."

"What?"

"And Ottie has you. You were listing off the amazing females she has in her life but missed the one who she spends the most time with. The one who she loves the most."

There was no stopping the blush that crept over your face as you stared back at Cassian.

"Cass-"

But the sounds of hurried little footsteps running up the stairs interrupted whatever you had been about to say.

"Uncle Cass, Uncle Cass," Nyx burst into the room, dramatically taking in deep breathes as he waved up at you.

"What is it, bud?" Cassian shot you a bemused glance, still somewhat laced with the intensity from before, then knelt in front of Nyx who lifted his arms and placed his little hands on Cassian's shoulders.

"It's cake time. Come on." Then he was running out of the room again.

"You'd think it was the end of the world with the entrance he just made." You let out a laugh but before you could respond, Nyx was bursting back in.

"Come on." He yelled, grabbing you and Cassian by the hand, and forcing you down the stairs to where Elain had just finished lighting the candles on top of the cake.

*****

The rest of the afternoon raced by, so fast, in fact, that you didn't have time to process the moment you and Cassian had shared until you were home. The intensity in his expression as he stared at you and the implication of his words... Your heart was racing at the mere thought.

Letting out a groan you tossed and turned in your bed, unable to settle your racing thoughts at the realisation that you had, somehow, without even being aware of it starting, had begun to fall for Cassian. To make matters even worse, you had no idea where you truly stood with him. Despite the closeness and friendship that had formed, he was technically still your boss.

You had a whole day before you were due back to look after Ottie. A whole 24 hours to figure out how you wanted to move forward in the wake of this realisation.

*****

Monday morning arrived much too quickly for your liking. It wasn't until the door opened and Cassian greeted you on the other side of it that you decided you weren't going to do anything about your feelings. He had been emotional the other day, grieving what he thought was missing from his daughter's life and, honestly, you thought to yourself, he probably hadn't even intended it to come out the way you had perceived it. He wasn't wrong, you did spend a lot of time with her. But you were paid to do so, so did it really count?

"Morning, Y/N? Have a good rest of you weekend?" Oh, sure it had been fantastic. Just a nice dose of inner turmoil. But of course, you didn't say any of that.

"I did," You smiled at him, acting as though your insides weren't currently screaming out. "Did Ottie have a good birthday? It was so nice meeting everyone."

As Cassian got ready to leave, your usual chatter filled the space as you made yourself a coffee, but you couldn't help but notice that his usual, carefree smile didn't quite meet his eyes, and that he seemed to be watching you as though waiting or assessing something.

"Alright, well I might be home a bit later tonight, if that's alright?" You brushed him off, of course it was alright, it always was. You sat down next to Ottie as she continued to happily munch away on her breakfast. "Okay, bye Ottie, you'll be good for Y/N today?" He pressed a kiss to her cheek before turning back to you, "See you later, yeah?"

"Mhm," You replied, "have a good day."

"You too." Then he was leaning down and pressing a kiss to your cheek as well before standing up and leaving as though nothing had happened.

What. The. Fuck.

You stared at the empty door frame he had walked through, only half hearing the front door close as he took off.

Again.

What. The. Fuck.

You turned to look at Ottie, as though she would provide you with some sort of explanation as to what just happened, or to confirm that it had even happened in the first place, that it wasn't just something you had imagined.

But she provided you with no deeper insight as she sat in her seat, happily kicking her little feet and giggling to herself. Upon noticing you watching her, she gave you one of her big cheesy grins you had grown to love and offered you a piece of the fruit Cassian had cut up for her.

*****

What. The. Fuck.

Cassian's heart was racing as he flew up to the House of Wind. What had he done?

Clearly you were more than happy to ignore his complete lack of control from the other day, when he all but said you were basically like a mum to Ottie. He was surprised he hadn't scared you off, especially when all you had signed up for was to be her babysitter, which was a harsh truth in itself that Cassian found himself constantly having to remember whenever he watched you and his daughter interact and he felt his heart stammer in his chest.

And then to turn around and kiss you on the cheek before leaving for work - as you turned up for work, he had to remind himself, again - as though it was a normal morning, between a normal little family...

He felt sick.

He had really screwed up.

"What's wrong with you today?" Azriel asked as Cassian landed with an ungrateful grunt next to the training ring located on the roof.

"Nothing."

"You sure?" Rhys now asked, sensing Cassian's inner turmoil even through the steadfast mental shield he had up around his mind.

With a grumble, Cassian lowered said shield, giving Rhys a look at what had occurred that morning. Scowling even deeper when Rhys let out a bark of a laugh. The snicker that followed from Azriel as Rhys showed him what had happened sent Cassian marching into the training ring, readying himself to forget his stupidity as Azriel approached to spar with him.

*****

He hadn't even got half an hour into his training before pulling up short, his mind was too distracted.

"Should I have stayed?" He blurtedly asked.

"What?" Unbeknownst to Cassian, Rhys and Az had been having a silent conversation whilst he had been spaced out.

"This morning. With Y/N. Should I have stayed and, I don't know, talked about it?"

He missed the glance his brother's shared.

"Well," Rhys started. "What would you have talked about?"

"I don't know, what is there to talk about?" Cassian snapped back, frustration and worry getting the better of him the more he thought about what he might now lose.

"Would you have tried to pass it off as a joke, or explain it away?" Rhys cautiously asked, trying to judge which direction Cassian's mind was heading in.

"Or would you have stayed and finally admitted your feelings to her?” Azriel interjected.

"My feelings?"

"Yes, you idiot. And the fact that you're in love with her."

"I'm not in love with..." Cassian trailed off though. He was, he absolutely was, and there was no point in denying it.

Azriel scoffed, "Please, you're in love with her. We've never seen you like this before with anyone."

"Well, Nesta-" Cassian tried to counter but Rhys cut him off.

"Nesta wasn't love. That was the mating bond, you've said as much to us multiple times so don't try to deflect now."

Cassian let out a deep sigh, he wasn't expected home for a few hours and a plan was starting to form in his mind.

*****

You had been surprised, but pleased all the same, when Feyre turned up with Nyx.

"Y/N! Hi, how are you?" You still weren't quite used to the casualness that surrounded the rulers of your court but did your best to act as though being in their presence wasn't one of the most intimidating things you had ever experienced.

"I'm good. What are you doing here?"

"Well, it's such a lovely day, Nyx and I thought it would be nice to get you and Ottie over to ours for the afternoon."

"Oh, thank you. Are you sure though?"

"Of course, we can walk back now. Go along the Sidra if you'd like?

"Easy, let me just grab Ottie's things."

Feyre shut the door behind you, Nyx already running over to where Ottie sat with her toys and planting a big kiss to her cheek.

"There's no need to grab much. Cass bought double ups of basically everything and has them stored at ours for when we look after her. Just yourselves will do."

You smiled warmly at her before scooping Ottie up, "Do you want to go play at Auntie Feyre's with Nyx?

Her excited squeals were enough of an answer, still, she excitedly said "yes, yes, yes, yes, yes," as you headed out the door, watching as her and Nyx ran ahead of the two of you.

*****

The afternoon spent with Feyre was the perfect distraction from your racing thoughts after what had happened with Cassian that morning.

The two of you chatted outside until the sun started to set, watching Ottie and Nyx run around across the grass.

"Well, hello, Feyre, Y/N." Rhys greeted as he walked out to join you, still dressed in his leathers, clearly having just got home.

You said hi back, watching with a laugh as Ottie caught sight of who now stood with you.

"Uncle Rhysie." She yelled, her little feet pounding across the grass as she leapt into his arms.

"Hello, princess. How's my favourite girl?" Ottie giggled at the nickname and hugged into him even tighter, "What do you say to a sleepover tonight, Ots?"

Turning to you, Ottie still in his arms, Rhys said, "Cass is fine with it. I think he needed you to head back at some point before going home tonight though."

"Oh, alright. Well, I might head off now then. Bye Ottie." She looked around at you, eyes wide as she wriggled out of Rhys' hold and ran over to you.

"You're not staying?" Her lip started to quiver so you quickly wrapped her up into a hug before the tears started.

"Not tonight, sweetheart. But we can play all day tomorrow, yeah?" She seemed to contemplate this for a moment before deciding it was acceptable enough and planted a kiss on your cheek before running back over to Nyx.

Feyre and Rhys were both smiling at you, clearly watching, and overhearing the entire interaction.

"What?" You asked with a laugh.

"Nothing, you're just really good with her."

"Oh, well..." You trailed off, not sure what to say as Rhys' words from before struck. Cassian needed to talk to you about something and, well, shit, clearly you were about to get fired, or, more kindly, were about to be told your ‘services were no longer required’.

"I'll see you both later. Goodnight." You missed the conspiratorial grin they shared behind your back, Rhys letting his thoughts drift over to Cassian's mind to tell him you were on your way.

*****

The house was dark when you got back, the only form of light was coming from the study and, from the looks of it, the backyard.

"Cass?" You called out as you closed the door behind you.

Hurried movements sounded from his office, then Cassian was quickly walking towards you.

"Y/N. Hi."

"Hi."

You felt as though your entire body was on guard. You needed to explain that you could easily put your feelings aside, but losing the chance of being in Ottie and Cassian's lives was something that filled you with dread, you would be happy to stay on in whatever capacity you could.

"Do you... Do you want to talk?" Cassian's nervousness was unsettling, yet you followed as he led you towards the couch.

"What are you doing tonight?"

That wasn't the question you were expecting.

You hesitated before answering, "Just going home I guess."

He seemed to contemplate your answer, looking so much like Ottie did earlier when you were saying goodbye.

"Dinner?" His voice was strained, leaving you even more confused.

"Um, yeah I'll be having dinner."

"No... Ugh this isn't working." He leant his head against the back of the couch, running his hands over his face.

"Cassian, are you alright?"

"Yes. No. I don't know." You were stunned, maintaining your silence as Cassian continued. "This morning, Y/N, I'm sorry. I don't know what that was, it just happened without me thinking about what I was doing. And then everything I said at Ottie's birthday. And now, fucks sake..." He trailed off again, leaving you just as confused as he blurted out "I need to have dinner."

"Oh, sure," You felt as though you were waiting for the other shoe to drop, as if his bizarre behaviour was some sort of test. "Did you want me to heat something up? I think there's still some frozen pasta from the other night." You went to stand but Cassian placed a hand on your knee to stop you before quickly pulling it away.

"No, it's alright. I've got it sorted." Then he was standing, offering you his hand as he guided you towards the back door.

You froze at the sight before you. Candles flickered across the table and the deck, a table set for two, lined with trays of food and a bottle of wine which sat in the middle of it all.

"Cass?"

"Look, Y/N, I get it if this is completely out of line. If it is then I am so sorry. But I needed you to know that this, whatever this is between us, means something to me."

You couldn't move, you were stuck on the spot as Cassian continued, the flickering lights casting a shadow across his handsome features.

"It's not even because you're so good with Ottie. I mean, you are, you're amazing with her and she adores you, so, so much. But it's how you treat me. Even that first time you looked after her, I was so close to crumbling. I felt so torn, between staying home and looking after my baby girl, but also knowing I needed to step back into reality and my responsibilities. It wasn't fair on the others that they had to pick up my slack."

You tried to interject, to say something about how the others wouldn't have minded, not one bit, especially with everything Cassian had been going through at the time, but he was already moving on.

"Not going to lie, I was reluctant when Elain first told me about you. It was nothing to do with you," He quickly clarified, "But more so because you were a complete stranger to me, and as much as Elain vouched for you, I still felt wary."

"Then you walked in and that first time you held her; I swear my heart skipped a beat. Even with Elain and Feyre, it took them ages to be able to hold her without Ottie bursting into tears. But with you, it all just seemed to fall into place." His voice was beginning to shake, and you silently wiped the tears from your eyes as he kept talking.

"But if anything, Y/N, it's the way you make me feel. Before even knowing me, you had me convinced that I wasn't completely failing at being her dad, that even though everything was well and truly fucked up, she was doing just fine. You helped me realise that I was going to be fine as well."

Cassian approached you now, calloused hands reaching up to your cheeks as he wiped away the rest of your tears with his thumbs. "So, I guess what I'm trying to say, and what I'm not doing a very good job of getting across, is that I love you?"

A watery laugh left you at the overall Cassian-ness of the statement, the sound making him grin lovingly at you.

"I love you, Y/N. And I am so thankful for the day that you walked into our lives and changed them for the better. And, assuming I haven't completely misread the situation, and assuming that those are happy tears," He laughed, his own eyes beginning to well. "I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me?"

With his hands still on your cheeks, you brought your arms up around his neck and pulled him down so that his face was level with yours.

"I thought you were going to fire me." You whispered.

A cheeky smile passed over Cassian's face, "Well, technically, I suppose I am? I can't have my...whatever you are to me now, being paid to look after my kid now, can I?"

"How romantic. Being fired then called your 'whatever'."

"We'll figure that out later." Cassian murmured against your lips.

"Yes, I suppose we will." Then you were leaning forward, lips pressing to his, feeling as though you were finally home.

*****

Part 2

There are so many opportunities for bonus spin-offs that I’m excited to write but if you want to see any particular scenario, let me know 🥰

#cassian x reader #dad!cassian #cassian x y/n #cassian x you #cassian imagine #acotar #acofas #acomaf #acosf #acowar #marley writes

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boozenboze · 1 year

Text

It’ll Be Alright

Aguni x Dom!Male reader

Female reader, she/her or she/they DNI

Warnings:Angst,Fluff,Hurt-Comfort

The Beach was created for everyone to feel safe.Like they had somewhere to go after playing those gruesome games that the borderland had set up for them.Practically everyone there was partying,having sex,smoking 24/7,and the best part about it for them is that the leader allows it all.Though of course the leader wouldn’t be anything without their subordinates or his executives to be specific.There were seven in total and one of those people being M/n L/n.He became an executive because of his skills when it came to games of spade and hearts.He was also in charge of spectating all the members and assisting the leader of the militants,Aguni.The other male wasn’t too fond of the h/c haired male but it was Hatters decision.

Now getting more into M/n.If the beach members had to describe him he would be another version of Aguni.The only difference between the two was height and demeanor.M/n was the guy you could actually reason with, without having to get physical.He is usually upbeat and can be seen talking to beach members on the regular.Some of the ladies would always leave subtle hints of wanting something more when they were talking with him.Sadly for them he would always disregard their comments and focus on the most normal parts of their interactions.

Believe it or not,M/n can usually be seen following close behind Aguni whenever the shorter male had to go renew his visa.When they were playing games with each other, other players considered them to work in sync with one another.That was the case with any game they played together,the two of them both used their own abilities to play the games.The more time the two spent together the comfortable the two got with each other.When the two of them weren’t playing the borders games, they would be having conversations with each other and M/n would always have an arm thrown over the shorter males shoulder as they spoke.

The two men had gotten comfortable with one another,and Hatter hadn’t failed to notice it.He also never failed to notice how Aguni face would redden when M/n put his arm around him,but the male never failed to hold his stoic expression.Once Hatter saw that he decided every time it was time for all the beach people to go play games to collect cards,he just so happens to make them have the same number on their cards when it was time to collect more cards.

A few says have passed and some new people had arrived as well Arisu and Usagi were there names.Besides that everything seemed to be going normal at the beach.Well…..that was until Hatter had to go renew his visa.

M/n was currently walking to the meeting room where all the executives were.Tata had came to him and apparently something bad happened,and it wouldn’t be further explained till everyone was there.Now standing in front of the door,the h/c haired male walked inside the room only to see the other executives standing around something.Now approaching the table his eyes widened at the sight of Hatters pale figure.The gunshot wound going through his chest,seemingly where his heart was.

“What the hell happened?”M/n muttered as he went to stand beside Niragi.

“Don’t know but the bastards dead,meaning that we need a new number 1.”Niragi said now looking at M/n.As a way of debating who should be the next leader at first the number 2 was going to take that place,but Niragi had other plans.Pointing his gun at the others(besides M/n since he has a genuine fear of him) and having Last Boss point his blade at the others.

By the end of the meeting Aguni had become the new king of the Beach.Though M/n had noticed Aguni’s demeanor.Sure the man had maintained his stoic expression but M/n couldn’t help but feel the radiation of regret and guilt emitting from his friend.He also knew that Aguni was Hatters best friend,so maybe those feelings that he felt coming from the shorter male was the regret of not being there for his friend.

Nighttime was nearing and M/n had just finished cleaning up his room.He was now laying in his bed reading a book with his lamp on right next to him.His reading was cut short due to a heavy knock on his door.With a sigh he placed a bookmark that he had found in his book.Now standing up and opening the door he saw Aguni who he hadn’t been expecting.Usually he would be in his room asleep but no,here he was standing in the h/c haired males doorway.

“Um hey did ya need something?”M/n said as the other male just invited himself in his room with his arms to his side.M/n shut his door as Aguni kicked off his boots and sat on his bed.Usually this would be a normal occurrence for the two but when the ex soilder had came in the whole atmosphere seemed tense.

“Is there something wrong?”M/n said as he approached his bed,sitting where he had been before he was disrupted.Aguni was silent,keeping his gaze towards the ground as M/n placed a hand on the males shoulder and he visibly tensed up.The s/c skinned male furrowed his eyebrows and put a hand under the males chin so he’d face him.His eyes widened when he saw his puffy red eyes.

“If this is about Hatter then-”

“I killed him.”Aguni had cut off the other male mid scentence.M/n pulled his hand away and looked at him with widened eyes.Aguni stared dead at him,staring into his soul.Even though he wanted to run out the room and tell the others,but something in him made him stay and want to hear the other males side of the story.M/n sat up and nodded his head allowing Aguni to continue.

“He wasn’t acting like himself...he had pulled gun on me and I thought he was gonna pull the trigger so I-um.”Aguni chocked on his words feeling all the guilt washing over him,the same feeling he had when holding his lifeless friend in his arms.M/n understood the males situation,he had killed his best friend out of pure reaction.In all honesty he would’ve done the same thing.M/n scooted closer to the male and pulled him into a hug.The shorter males stoic expression had fallen and he started to cry.M/n didn’t know what to do exactly to help,but he was just going to do what he did best.

“His gun wasn’t even loaded,a-and I fucking shot him.His d-damn gun wasn’t f-fucking loaded either.”Aguni sobbed while gripping the back of M/n’s shirt.The h/c haired male sat there processing the whole situation.The entire situation was unintentional and this was the outcome of it.Without saying anything,M/n pulled Aguni on top of him and let the male cry into his chest.He turned off the lamp beside his bed and slithered his hand up the males shirt. He began rubbing circles into the males back.

A few minutes went by and the room fell into silence.The sound of soft snores had filled the room,once Aguni passed out.M/n had wrapped his arms around the males waist and turned to the side so he could pull the male close.Aguni’s face was now nuzzled in the s/c skinned males neck as said male began to fall asleep himself.Was M/n qualified to comfort to shorter male,no he wasn’t.Even so the h/c haired male knew that his friend(boyfriend) needed some comfort and some asssurance that everything would be alright.

#male reader #aguni alice in borderland #Aguni x Male reader #Male y/n #gay #An #Arisu #lgbtq #Chishiya #Last Boss #Niragi #hurt comfort #Aguni is best man #Hatter #Takeru #alice in borderland x male reader

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r0b1ns · 2 years

Text

ALICE IN BORDERLAND MASTERLIST

Guide:

🔥 - SMUT

💙 - MALE READER

💚 - GN READER

🌺 - FLUFF

🌧️ - ANGST

ALL

PLACES YOU KISS THAT TURNS THEM ON🔥💚

HOLDING HANDS IN PUBLIC 💙🌺

#arisu x reader #arisu ryohei #usagi #usagi x reader #ann aib #aib chishiya #hatter aib #takeru danma #last boss x reader #last boss #aib #alice in boderland x reader #alice in borderland #x reader #x masc reader #x male reader #x gn reader #headcanons

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tarjapearce · 3 months

Note

Lips Anon! Okay, imagine imagine... You are the 18 yr old daughter of Miguel's secretary. Your mom had to work harder because of the death of her husband/your father, and managed to become Miguel's Secretary. Secretary has a huge crush on Miguel after becoming his secretary, but he's after something else... You. He's not the kindest of men here. He tells you if you ever reject or tell he'll fire your mom. A dark fate awaits you...I'm sorry in a dark mood lol love u

Remember when I said I wanted something dark? Jksjsksj found this in the ask box and YESSS BABY

WICKED GAMES

ShamelessCEO! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Power play, power imbalance, smut, No proofread, fingering, slight anal play, implicit mentions of squirt, oral (F receiving), Dom! Miguel, Corruption Kink, Mild degratadion, blackmailing, nipple play, cum, Dark Miguel, slight angst, dubious morals.

Summary: Miguel offers you a deal you can't refuse, even if you wanted to.

"Bend over, preciosa."

The voice you had been obeying for the last month ordered. Ever deep and sultry, it had butterflies rioting in your stomach.

Your skin crawled when two deft fingers hovered and dragged over the outline of a flimsy piece of mesh fabric, that accomplished poorly it's role of a thong, leaving little to nothing to his already wild and rampant imagination.

Hands trailed the supple globes of flesh your rear always carried, awaiting to be spanked. It was his ritual before he messed with your senses, his new favorite hobby.

The sight made him groan. Lace and tulle adorned your body in the most skimpiest of ways you had only seen in famous catalogues of lingerie.

And somehow he had turned you into his personal Polly Pocket. If he told you to undress in the middle of his office, you'd obey. If he told you to put on some lingerie that barely covered your tits or holes, you'd obey.

And if he told you to open up, you'd sit ontop of his desk and spread your legs.

Refusal of his antics would only bring devastating consequences to your already little and tattered home. Or so, he had cleared up a month ago. He was shameless.

A shameless CEO of the Medical Research Facility in Alchemax, Miguel O'Hara, that also happened to be your mother's boss.

A boss which, the poor woman had been crushing over for months now. She'd come home with a brightest beam on her face, something that only your father provoked when he lived. She'd gush about him like a teenager in love. She'd ramble for hours if she could and for what you heard he seemed to be a pretty decent man.

A sudden heart attack had left you both widowed and fatherless.

But life didn't stopped. Debts and bills that always arrived on time in the mailbox, the house's mortgage that had slowly chipped away your mother's sanity, had made you drop out of college to find a job and help around with the expenses. And still wasn't enough.

You had seen the exhaustion in your mother's eyes, her depleting smile faltering through the months after she was fired from her current job, trying to be strong for the both as you turned into the main provider, until she landed a job at Alchemax.

Things improved, you quit your second job and had the option to do some trade school. Life gave you a little slack.

Until you assisted to a gala with your mom.

She had enough to afford a beautiful pair of dresses and a lovely makeover that had left you both looking mesmerizing. She tried her best into have a bit of Miguel's attention. She was beautiful, a milf according to your male friends. Nearly in her late thirties.

You didn't want to interrupt whatever thing rich men did in these sort of events, but your mother, stunning and stubborn as she was wanted to greet her boss, despite your initial refusals. You didn't have the heart to say no to her.

And no wonder why she was over the moon with him. Handsome was an understatement, his imposing aura made your eyes avert from his form, skin crawled when you both stepped closer to his personal space. Like if presenting yourselves to the big bad wolf.

"Mr. O'Hara?" The man in question turned to your mother with a piercing stare, watching her with his usual cold look until his brown eyes landed on you. "This is my daughter."

Twinkling with a discreet amusement, ignoring your mother's words to take you in completely.

"Nice to meet you, hermosa."

He squeezed your hand in a gentle and polite handshake while a brief smile appeared. One look, was all he needed for his brain to whirlwind with thoughts he rarely indulged. Miguel was bored.

But not for long.

In the rest of the party you felt someone watching your every move from the shadows.

----

Call it a coincidence, fate or whatever powerful strength above you that put you in the same elevator as him when you were about to visit your mother.

"This is the executive elevator"

Shit.

Your mind immediately reprimanded you for not being careful enough

"I'm sorry."

You were about to leave when the doors slammed shut on your face, your feet stepping back. He had closed the doors.

"I didn't know it was exclusive use only."

Miguel took a brief look at his watch, "It's alright. We're going to the same floor anyways."

Of course, your mother worked in the same floor as he was. Silence however made a space between you, comfortable enough until Miguel broke it.

"Do you study?"

Your throat cleared while giving a quiet nod.

"Work?"

"Yeah. Uhm... Today is my day off actually. Just wanted to say hi to mom."

How cute.

Miguel chuckled while the elevator kept moving upwards, taking it's time. His presence alone had your arms holding yourself, squeezing at the flesh nearby the elbows and heart pounding up your throat.

"You two seem close." Miguel tilted his head as his eyes remained on you, seizing you with the same stare he gave you at the party.

"Oh, heh. Yeah. It's just us. Dad died some years ago."

"Sorry to hear about it."

You shrugged as your feet shuffled. The butterflies in your stomach tickled your insides, blood rushed involuntarily to your cheeks the more scrutinized you felt.

"Thanks. Life goes on though."

"True. How much you get paid in your job?"

"W-What?" You had to blink a couple of times before facing him.

"Not much, that for sure."

He just hummed while his lips pursed. It was more than enough info to have his plan set into motions.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

A derisive snort came your way, "No. I don't have time for it."

"Too busy working?."

"Exactly. Mom needs all the help she can."

Miguel squeezed the metallic bar behind him. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

"You're a good woman."

The compliment deepened the flush. A meek thank you was music to his ears and he pulled out a card to then giving it to you. His cologne mushing your senses into a pulp.

Your brow quirked and again, he focused all the attention in you.

"If you need extra help, call me. I think I need a personal assistant"

"Wait... I thought mom was already doing that?"

"She's my secretary, not my assistant. Different jobs. But the choice is all yours."

The elevator's door dinged, finally releasing you both.

"I'll await for your response."

With those final words he left you alone, setting his plan in motion.

----

You were fired. Without much explanation, or a valid reason other than 'We're cutting people short."

It was too soon, too sudden and way too coincidental. It had only been two days since you talked to Miguel, and two days things had been tense at work.

When your mom knew about the news, she wasn't pleased but couldn't really blame you, and when you told her about Miguel, the hesitation was more than enough to send you spiraling in anxiety.

"He's a demanding person, cupcake. Are you sure you wanna do this?"

Resolution only increased when the new mortgage bill rested on the table.

"I know it won't be easy, but I have to. We're almost done with the house's payments."

"That's my job, sweetie. You can go back to college and-"

"Get even more in debt again? No. Mom, look. I know you don't like me to help you, but I wanna do it. Okay?"

She didn't say much, but supported you.

His phone rang and rang to no avail.

I'm the morning however a text message had you rushing through everything.

—Interview at 10.

----

You made it. barely. Mom helped you to dry the sweat forming in your forehead as she announced your presence to Miguel.

"You can do this, ok? If not, don't worry."

She kissed your forehead and let you in. A security door locked behind you.

You knew Alchemax was rotting in money, but his office was ridiculous. Expensive portraits adorning the beige walls, seats made out of the fine leathers, perfect for hosting a personal party if he wished, and finally your eyes met him. Sitting in his throne, watching you with his usual piercing eyes.

His hands motioned you to follow him as he entered through the previous door you saw before to reveal a much more personal space. A semicircular leather couch, with a bar in front.

Bottles of different liqueurs and colors had you looking back and forth through them. Cups and glasses neatly arranged in them, he went behind the bar and served himself some whiskey.

Your surprise at the place grandeur didn't go unnoticed by him. It made him smirk.

"Want a drink?"

"Uh, no. I'm alright. Thanks."

He downed a shot of whiskey while sitting on the couch, to then pat the space next to him.

Hesitation started to nest out when you sat, his aura and form swallowing you whole.

"Let's go straight to the point."

Eyes darted back at his face while nodding.

"Of course. What would my functions be?"

"None of that boring bureaucratic shit, that's for sure."

You blinked, confused, but your senses flared in danger when a bold hand of his rested on your knee, gently squeezing you.

"Uhm... Mr. O'Hara-"

"I need your full commitment, if you're working for me. Can you do that?"

"I-I need to know what's gonna be my job, if I'm-"

"If?" A disapproving array of 'tsk' came out of him, his whole frame faced you now while he loosened his tie.

"I don't think you're understanding, sweetie. I don't want ifs here. I like a yes or no. You see, your mother is a good employee."

You gulped, not really enjoying where this conversation was going.

"And you're jobless. A lot of debts to pay come your mailbox every month" Your face recoiled from his lingering touch as he removed a strand of hair out of your face, "Must be hard for her, taking all of that in her shoulders"

His hand slid on your shoulder and you casted your eyes away.

"But you, are brave to help her. I like brave girls like you."

It was more than enough for you to stand in a rush to leave, but he grabbed your wrist with enough force to stop you, but immediately pulled you against his chest, back colliding against his solid wall of muscles.

"Don't be afraid, cielito. I won't hurt you."

"Let me go, please."

"Why would I let my new assistant go?"

"I don't want to-"

"The only thing you have to do is be there for me whenever I require it from you."

"I'm not turning into your fucking fuck toy!"

His hand covered yours for a second to tone down your voice.

"Fuck toy? Quite the imagination you have. Let me put it simple and straight for you. You leave? Your mom does too."

Angry tears flooded your eyes while he squeezed your chin with a lazy smile

"But if you stay, and take the job, "He nuzzled your neck softly, sending shivers down your spine," I'll give her a raise."

You stilled for a moment and he let you go, to pour himself some more whiskey.

Numbness spreaded through your head, the glass clinking echoed in the little space. Head felt buzzing and spinning with so many thoughts that screamed and pushed in your head to come up to a proper reply.

Leave it!

No, your mom, the mortgage-

Take it!

He's rich, and mom needs a break from money, you're so close paying up everything!

No! He's bad. You're not a slut! He only wants your body!

But mom would be happy...

A hand on your cheek, stroking you lips put a halt to all the rebelling thoughts, forcing your focus to go back to him.

"So, yes or no?"

----

"W-Wait!" Your plea came out as a shaky moan as he rubbed in lazy circles your clit over the lace panties he made you wear.

Lace and tulle were his favorites, you noted. The first thing he did was to give you the rules.

"Someone could enter at any moment!"

If he'd need you, you'd assist him in any way he saw fit. You wouldn't call him for anything besides business. Everything would happen between you both, was to remain between you and whatever the place he chose.

He shrugged "We're working. Ahora callate." (Shut up)

You wouldn't call him by his name, Mr. O'Hara or Sir would suffice. Contraceptives were a must. No kissing, you weren't to wear underwear around him unless absolute necessary and certainly no interaction past your stablished contract.

He picked a red silk and mesh set of panties, that perfectly adjusted at your size.

His thumb applied the gradual pressure that had you covering your mouth and trapping his hand between your legs.

"Why am I not hearing you?"

His hand slapped with enough force your pussy to send a jolt through your body, ending in a loud gasp.

"Don't cover your mouth. Understood?"

"Y-Yes, sir."

Mom was so excited when you told her you had accepted the job offer.

His hands fumbled with his buckle, moving past the layers of clothes to release his proud and girthy cock free. You were sprawled all over his desk, tits exposed from the confinements of your button shirt.

He trailed a finger between the moist and supple pair of lips that swallowed the silk, soaking them when he pushed it above your pulsating cunt.

Breathings heaved, and a tiny whimper was brave enough to escape as he rubbed his tip between your clothed folds.

His grunts and foreign mumbling had your skin tickling. He slapped his cock before pressing tighter against your pussy, rubbing urgently and desperately.

You groaned as your breaths turned curt and shallow. One of his hands pinned your hips down in place, his cock moved sideways on your clit with such speed it had you sputtering and trembling.

He covered your mouth, drowning the delicious cry that announced your climax, as he glazed your folds with his cum. Hot and thick blobs of cum permeated the fabric, burning your skin deliciously.

The flush in his cheeks and ears spreaded through his face. Plump lips panted and heaved as his eyes trailed over your convulsing body. Taut peaks swayed at the pace of your breathings.

The phone next to you rang, startling you both. With the remaining strength in your body, you stood to fix your clothing and hair to look the least unkempt as possible.

"Mr. O'Hara, the meeting with Aaron is within two hours. Would you like to confirm?"

Your mother's voice pierced through the intercom. Your eyes casted away from him and the crime scene.

There wasn't an aftercare per say, it all revolved around his pleasure after all. But apparently he loved having you marked with his scent. But you weren't one for following such things, too uncomfortable to walk around with cum stained panties, so you threw them away and cleaned yourself up in his personal's bathroom, then went back to your mini office on his right.

----

At first there was nothing more but him jerking off to oblivion and cumming on your panties, that always were discarded afterwards, no matter how cute they were.

But as days passed, his ways turned bolder. He had asked you to get undressed and give him a show on his chair. Although shy at first, he talked through the whole process, training you to the point of cumming with three fingers inside you all while he recorded your climax with one hand, and stroked himself with the other.

But it wasn't enough. On a particular day, he felt like having you sit on his lap, mounds out, one on his mouth as his cock was trapped between your thighs, covered in the slick your drenched folds drowned him in.

Tongue swirled while he suckled, earning lovely mewls from your mouth. Your phone rang, and he groaned, frustrated.

The vibrations of his grumble made you whimper, while shaky hands grabbed the trinket. Mom's number on the screen.

"Pick up." His tongue twirled on your nipple once more as his arms pulled you upwards to sit on his lap. One of his hands darted on your soaked swell to prod two fingers around, but stopped upon seeing you looking at him.

"Pick the fuck up" With a gulp you took some air before pressing the green button. It was your mom's day off

"H-Hey mom"

You had to pill the phone away as he slid in the two digits inside and you bit your lip.

"-you? How is it going?"

"I'm doing just fine."

His fingers prodded and buried themselves deeper while wriggling inside. Brown deep eyes never faltered in watching you. Engraving each and single one of your expressions as he moved his fingers deftly inside you, leaving wet slurps of your cunt echoing the more he moved. His mouth sucked the hardened nub with such hunger it had you biting your lip to avoid moaning.

"What do you want for dinner? I'm making pasta. Is that alright?"

"Y-Yeah. That's-"

Your spine arched as you watched his fingers disappearing inside your slick and folds, "That's great." You clenched your jaw while your head threw back.

"Okay! See you at night, sweetie. Love you!"

"Lov... Love you too"

Miguel grabbed your phone and hung the call, to hear you as he increased the pace of his fingering. The tight knot coiling into your lower pit, spreading and consuming everything like a wild fire.

Miguel could only watch your blissful face as you gushed all over his hand.

"Such a good girl."

He mumbled through rough licks and sucks, leaving your nipple puffed and sensitive.

And now a month after getting used to a certain part of his antics, you were bent over the desk, flimsy mesh fabric covering your awaiting hole.

"Beautiful" His praising was odd, yet it left a tingling and warm shimmy on your heart. He pulled you to stand again and pulled the panties off.

He put one of your legs ontop of the sturdy surface and kneeled behind you. Face immediately sinking between your thighs and flesh. A yelp flew out in the air as he slurped and played with your clit, two of his fingers teasing your butthole.

Papers were crumpled underneath your hands as he delved his tongue and coiled it inside your weeping pussy. Souping and guzzling down your slick. His fingers sunk in your tighter hole, prodding softly.

"Look at that" He mumbled while sucking the outer labia before dribbling his tongue up and down, skin full of goosebumps, as your jaw clenched, trying to not scream at the unbearable sensation in your holes.

"You didn't want this job and now look at you." He slapped your glutes so hard it left a flushed pink imprint on it. And it only made you wetter, "Such a good little toy for me."

His fingers in your butthole prodded and spreaded. His hot breath fanned on your cunt, a trail of your slick and his lips connected on eachother.

"Feels good doesn't it?"

Miguel pulled your hips backwards, pressing your pussy against his mouth, devouring you like a starved man. Your knees bucked and your toes curled in. He gasped for air while you mumbled the most incoherent things that came out your mouth, a clear reflect on what he did to your mind.

"Feels good to be paid to be used, Hm?"

Another spank and it had you whimpering a delicious 'Yes'

"You love when I use you, preciosa?"

The tip his fingers rubbed and poked at your insides.

"Y-Yes"

"See? Honesty can take you places."

You noted that he'd never go to the extent of fucking you, despite the implant nesting within your left arm.

"P-Please"

"Hm? What was that?"

His fingers dug deeper and faster as they hooked inside you, reaching easily that sweet spot that had you sobbing and pushing your hips against it.

"Please, sir!"

Miguel's dark smirk widened when he suddenly stopped, just when you were about to cum. A frustrated whine came off your lips and he grabbed you by the hair, cornering you against him and the desk.

"Go change, sweetie. That's all for today."

"But-"

"I said, that's fucking it for today, understood?"

"Yes, sir"

A shamed pant came off your mouth while getting off the desk, hips protested, but you made your way towards the bathroom.

Reality came flooding like a tsunami on your thoughts. You had been too carried away to remember it was all a game.

You cleaned yourself up before beginning to change.

He'd always have the upper hand. And no matter how much you tried to not react to his ministrations, your body always disobeyed greatly.

Your hair was fixed as you put on the outer layers of clothes. Miguel had made you admit all those shameful things you were avoiding to say.

At first it was just to keep mom happy and away from trouble. Hell, she even doubled her praising for Miguel and how much a good boss he was. And your paycheck always came on time, he had kept his sword like he said he would.

And still the emotional toll of such choice you had taken was finally catching up with you.

It all was a game. And you his favorite toy.

#t writes✨#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #💋 anon #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel x reader #miguel imagine

736 notes · View notes

aguni-simp · 1 year

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Kahoot: Is Europe a country or a continent?

Me: A country

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smutoperator · 3 months

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Crossing The River

Cho Miyeon, "Megan" Park Jiwon, Nicha Yontararak (Minnie) x Male Reader

Tags: anal, creampie, daddy talk, dirty talk, (lots of) deepthroat, facial, painal, role-playing, spa sex, threesome (FFM)

Word count: 10811

Morning time

The life of a regular worker in South Korea isn't easy. The long, steinous shifts, the lack of labor protection laws, and proposals to extend workdays to over 20 hours are the rule there. And they are even worse for the very few foreign workers like you, milked to earn every extra cent businesses want to get. It was barely 6 a.m. on a Saturday morning when you got a call from your workplace saying you had to work today. You had very little time to prepare yourself, and even on a Saturday, the morning train commute from Incheon to Seoul was just as crowded as on a typical weekday. You arrived 2 minutes late, which led to your always rude boss scolding you.

"You can't come in late; we have a very important pair of guests today, and I assigned you to their room," your boss yelled at you. You didn't answer anything; your face just looked disgruntled as you prepared yourself for the job. Today, you were going to take care of the spa's luxury accommodations. Normally, there is more than one person there, but the spa was severely understaffed. But you were all alone and already dreading the experience of being overworked on what was supposed to be a rest day.

You entered the main room, which was empty. You started searching for the guests in the bedroom, the massage room, and the manicure room, but couldn't find them. It took a while, but in your last search, you finally found a pair of women lying on a bathtub with just their beautiful faces and soft feet, not underwater.

"You're a little late," Miyeon told you. "I apologize," you immediately answered her back. "No worries; I'm sure you can make up for it," Jiwon said. "Thanks; I'll do my best," you replied back. "Sure, you can; you can start with our feet," Miyeon continued. You quickly obliged, giving both their feet a massage. "That's good, but you should go further," Miyeon continued. "Tell me, how further do you want me to go?" you asked her back.

"How about we start kissing our little feet?" Miyeon said. It wasn't the first time a client had asked such a thing. You always declined such flirty requests as they were against the spa's rules and could get you fired, triying to explain them about it. But they pushed back. "We are your clients; we make the rules," Miyeon punched back. "Now kiss it." Surely you did, but that didn't let them get happier or anything; it just got them emboldened once they found out you could indeed break the rules. It wasn't long enough until Miyeon asked for more.

"Take those clothes off and jump on the tub," she ordered. Where the hell was she going with it? You started asking yourself. But despite her very direct orders, Jiwon and her were such cuties and reacted so well to your little kissing that you decided the best way to be a good worker was to break your own work's rules as you took your shirt and pants off, leaving just your trousers on, and slowly entered that full of foam and glowing green water tube, going towards Miyeon and Jiwon, who waited for you on the other side of it.

They did indeed have a plan, as you were greeted by Jiwon with a pair of kisses right in your mouth. Miyeon got behind both of you and quickly took the turns as the one kissing you. She had a very torrid yet ultra-romantic way of moving her lips. Soon, Jiwon joined in, kissing your back, and you were already sandwiched by this pair of beauties. If Jiwon was the one handling the more romantic stuff, Miyeon was already thinking of naughtier thoughts, as she was already searching for the bulge under your pants. It was still soft, but that wasn't going to last for long with the touch from her soft little hands.

As Jiwon put her hands on your chest and carressed it, her friend finally took your cock off your trousers. "That's a really nice cock," Miyeon said, leading Jiwon to giggle behind you. Jiwon tried to get her hands on it, but Miyeon quickly closed her window, bumping her chest against your bare belly. Both Miyeon and Jiwon took the top of their one-piece bathing suits off, and Miyeon got a good grab of your cock, sliding it slowly between her soft boobs. as she got on her knees. Jiwon once again tried to join as she touched her friend's breasts while they gave your cock a little massage.

Miyeon slapped your cock on her boobs and gave you a naughty look, prompting you to retribute with a hot and long kiss. Jiwon didn't want to be left out of the fun for long and pushed herself in front of you as both pushed you to the edge of the tub and got on their knees with only their heads not underwater to take turns licking your already thobbing head. Jiwon took it in her mouth first, while Miyeon moved her tongue around your shaft. As Jiwon sucked you deeper, Miyeon shifted her focus to your balls before getting her turn, while Jiwon moved her body up for some more kisses and a little lick of your chest.

"Do you like how my girlfriend sucks your cock, baby?" Jiwon played with you, pretending Miyeon was her girlfriend. "For sure, she's so sexy," you replied, hugging Jiwon as she rested her face on your chest, and both of you watched Miyeon suck you off. Miyeon let out a smirky laugh, almost telling you not to steal her "girlfriend," as Jiwon moved back down and sucked your shaft with more intensity, making you curse for the first time as it reached the depths of her throat. She kept sucking it faster and harder, while Miyeon was now the one licking your chest and getting your kisses. Jiwon was having a lot of fun, enjoying your good reactions as moans as she sucked your prick, leading Miyeon to take a watch as her younger girlfriend kept going.

"You weren't expecting this, weren't you?" Jiwon asked as she kept moving all the way up and down your shaft, giving it hard strokes and fast licks. "You want some more?" Miyeon asked. "Yes, she's so good," you replied. "Then let's go inside," Miyeon said just as Jiwon stopped, and you kissed them both, staring at their beautiful, cute smiles.

Miyeon and Jiwon dried their bodies but still kept their messy hairs wet as they moved towards the bedroom. Now all three of you were naked as Jiwon still led the charge, now simultaneously kissing you while stroking your cock while Miyeon scratched her long nails in your back. You then turned around and gave Miyeon more kisses, but Jiwon kept her hands on your cock while you two enjoyed each other. "So hot watching you make out with my boyfriend," Jiwon said, continuing her ambigous role play where she was both your and Miyeon's girlfriend. You embraced it, kissing Miyeon harder in front of your girlfriend and letting her stroke your cock while Jiwon now moved her hands all over your body, carving your armpits and legs, but especially your cock, while Miyeon was now stroking it. You answered your girlfriend's moves, caressing her back and eventually reaching her soft ass.

"Your boyfriend's dick is so cute," Miyeon said to Jiwon, fully embracing the role-playing, getting on her knees and sucking it under the watchful eye of Jiwon, who, looking a little jealous, sought your attention, turning your face towards her for more kisses. "You like how my girlfriend sucks your cock?" she asked while kissing you. "Yes, she is so beautiful," you responded as both settled on their roles of kisser and sucker. But not for long, as the more Jiwon watched Miyeon dive on your hard pole, the more she wanted to join the fun. And what a nasty way she decided to do it! Getting on all fours, Jiwon ducked her diminutive body under yours, going for your balls at first, before putting her chin a little back up and putting her tongue in your asshole.

"Holy shit," you screamed as Jiwon massaged your rim, craving more as you reached your right hand on her hair and pushed her head against your ass. Miyeon was just a few centimeters away from her, still fellating you, but she couldn't even see her friend's face, now fully buried in your anus. You now pressed both their heads against your body, using your right hand to grab Miyeon's hair and have her take a deepthroat. "Show me your tongue," you ordered to her when she gagged, then thrusting your cock back in her mouth soon after at moderate speeds. "Get in my ass, baby," you told Jiwon, albeit in truth she had never left her tongue out of your butthole, feeling on top of the world as you had two beautiful girls on their knees stimulating you.

Jiwon now moved towards your balls, surprising you as her small head suddenly appeared between your legs while Miyeon started a no-hands blowjob. You gave a couple pumps to Miyeon's mouth, rubbing your balls against Jiwon's as well. "Kiss her." The duo continued to gang on your cock, sharing their regular duties. Miyeon is working on your shaft, and Jiwon is working on your balls. It stayed that way until you took Miyeon's hands and got her up, looking at the enticing bad waiting for you just at the side. Jiwon followed suit, getting up just as her unnie did. At first, you just watch them kiss each other, with Miyeon taking most of the initiative. You quickly joined them, tucking Miyeon's wet hair to see their faces better as you put yourself right in the middle, sharing a triple kiss.

"Let's suck this cock," Jiwon said after a few more kisses as both crawled towards you. Miyeon got there first, once again not needing her hands to engulf your big shaft. "You like how I suck your boyfriend's dick, don't you, Megan?" she asked Jiwon, using her English name. She didn't answer, rather asking a question of her own: "Does that pretty little mouth feel good?" as Miyeon continued to take it. "Yes, so hot, baby, keep going," you approved. Megan kissed you as she then went to take a slice of it, only to be met by a possessive Miyeon, with both racing to see who would take the most of your pole. But they once again quickly learned how to share the task, with Miyeon still sucking the shaft while Megan rubbed her tongue open and down on the edges.

You then moved towards giving each of their throats a few soft pumps, alternating between Miyeon and Megan until the latter started bobbing your head in your cock and fucking it in and out of her mouth. "Spit on it," you told her as you facefucked Miyeon, who also spitted on it as you fucked Megan's mouth, then took turns between them with Megan still doing her head-bobbing while Miyeon preferred to be passively throated, finishing with a massive deepthroat, which Megan tried to match and managed to do with ease. "That's hot," you said about their next move as they shared your tip between their lips. "Ohhhh yes," you groaned as Megan once again did her head-bobbing signature move on your cock before climbing up to kiss you and give you the following suggestion.

"I want to see my girlfriend riding your cock," she said to you with her radiant smile. "Wow, she's gonna be even hotter than when sucking that dick," you replied as you got back in bed and prepared yourself for it. Miyeon got on top of you as you rested on Megan's belly before she gave you another kiss. Miyeon sat her ass on your shaft before getting up and lining it to her entrance as Megan caressed your hair. She put it in her pussy and let out a soft angelic moan, with a slow but deep ride from the start, which you found very hot and approved of a lot. "So good inside me," Miyeon said as she bounced on you while Megan sat on your face for you to eat her out.

Miyeon kissed Megan as she kept working on your cock. Her pace was very steady, using the lessons a certain old Japanese friend had given her, even though her ride was softer in comparison to Sana's frenetic pace. Megan chimmed in, kissing Miyeon and then spanking her ass. Miyeon switched her motion, tilting her body down and taking longer thrusts as she sucked Megan's tits when reaching the top of her ride. "Bounce on his cock," Megan ordered her as Miyeon increased her pace while still keeping her friend's tits in her mouth while you ducked your hands in between your bodies and poked her navel. The ride heated up Miyeon. "That feels so fucking good," she said, as Megan watched her while you increased the pace of licking her slit.

Megan reacted to it and started moving her hips in a circular motion as you buried your tongue deep in her folds. Her moans were pretty loud and had plenty of range. She could really showcase her vocal talents in any situation. Miyeon moved to a straighter, faster bounce as Megan increased her loudness, both now overwhelming your body as their tight holes had you on a chokehold. Miyeon's cheeks started to clap against your hips as she kept applying to you the cock-riding teachings of Sana, trading hot kisses with her friend. Megan enjoyed what she was seeing and spanked Mieyon's butt once again, to which Miyeon responded by going even harder.

Miyeon got overwhelmed when Megan came up and started fingering her asshole, which gave you an opportunity to be the one now thrusting upwards against her pussy. Miyeon quickly regained control, but Megan wanted more, replacing her fingers with her tongue as she worked on Miyeon's rectum just like she did on yours. "Oh, that feels amazing," Miyeon moans as she moves towards a slower ride that lets her enjoy Megan's tongue on her ring and even provokes it. "You like licking my beautiful, clean ass and putting your nasty tongue on it, don't you, Megan?" she asked.

"Take it out and suck it." You rewarded Megan's efforts by letting her eat the juices of Miyeon's pretty pussy. "Such a dirty girl," you told her as she put her mouth deep in your cock and grabbed it with her small hands. Miyeon crawled on top of you as you tasted your own cock from her wet folds, taking your shaft by herself once more and starting a 69 while Megan worked on your balls. You couldn't resist for long and thursted your hips up to fuck her warm mouth. Megan surely thanked those efforts as your cock got much wetter as she got ready to jump on it.

Megan rubbed your shaft a little at her entrance before sliding it with ease inside her thin body. "Ahhhhhh!" Her moan was like music to your ears; it had the perfect mix of cuteness and sexiness. She was so small that your cock filled her to the fullest from the start, leading her to take it slow as she filled the room with soft, nasally sounding moans between kisses on Miyeon. Megan kept searching for the better angle, and when she found it, she wasn't afraid of bouncing fast from the start as Miyeon said dirty words to her ear. Megan rode you like she had something to prove, and it wasn't long until her cheeks were clapping between her hard bounces. She was tiny but not afraid of taking a big one, stretching her out to the maximum from the beginning. Her moans got louder, but she kept going.

Her ride didn't last long, as you responded to her aggressive bounce with hard thrusts that hit her cervix every single time, shaping her little hole with your cock. Megan's moans now had gotten so loud that it was like she was singing an opera in bed as she clinged to Miyeon's tits and held herself into her body. You too started groaned at each pump, muffled by Miyeon's slit on top of your mouth. "OH MY GOD, THIS COCK FEELS SO GOOD!!!!" Megan screamed so hard that she almost ended up biting Miyeon's nipples. Her unnie could only laugh, as she was clearly not prepared for it. "AHHHHHH. " FUCKKKK! She screamed again when you slapped her ass. But Megan enjoyed it and wanted to make it harder on herself.

"Choke me hard," she asked Miyeon as her unnie grabbed her neck and had both her pussy and throat now tightened. Miyeon kissed her and granted Megan her wish as her face turned red. But Megan wasn't totally powerless either, taking back control of her ride just as she got choked. Megan was extremely loud in bed; it felt like she was auctioning as she screamed her lungs out. And you wanted to make sure she continued, taking advantage to pound her harder and having zero regard for whether any spa employee could hear you. Miyeon poked her, enjoying the best of both worlds, as she teased Megan while getting eaten out. "Ahahahaha!" Miyeon laughed as she tried to mirror Megan's ride and grinded on your face.

It turns out that just watching was much better. Miyeon let you do the work, resting on your face and resting on the headboard while you grabbed Megan's waist to push her down your shaft, her hands grabbing your knees. "AHHHHHH!" she screamed again as you spanked her butt and moved your hands up to reach her tits. Miyeon was really enjoying it, as she started fingering herself at the action between you and Megan, only interrupting it when she was ready to make her next move.

"I want to take it in my asshole," she said, no ifs ands and buts. Megan was shocked to hear her say it. "I thought you weren't into anal sex," she said. "We can always try to improve," Miyeon replied. She was much more careful. Her butthole was even tighter and made you groan with just the tip in as she tried to ease herself into it. Miyeon kept her hands on your shaft and slowly moved down. You groaned, and she moaned every single time she descended an extra centimeter. You were very kind and let her set the pace and adjust herself, leading into a slow-paced romantic anal fuck as you too filled the room with your soft out-of-breath noises.

"I want you to sit on his face," Miyeon demanded to Megan as she put her hands on your chest and maintained her slow yet sexy ride. Megan climbed back on top of you to muffle your groans as you started blowing hot air into her folds. Miyeon wasn't lying when she said anal was still a challenge to her in contrast to the way she dominated vaginal sex, as just a little extra dig of you inside her made her gasp. Megan took notice and contrasted her enjoyment with Miyeon's struggle. "Oh, I love this filthy tongue in my tight, little pussy," she said to her friend's face as she kissed Miyeon, who kept gasping from time to time.

"God. Holy crap!" Miyeon kept uttering words and clinging to Megan as her riding skills weren't translating to anal. Her friend just watched. It turns out Megan's indifference was what made Miyeon toughen up and finally start adjusting herself to her tight rectum being ripped apart like never before. It helped that Megan finally aided her as she placed her hands on Miyeon's butt and helped spread her ass. Her ring loosening up meant you could increase the pace and thurst a little harder, which Miyeon managed to take, but not totally free of some growing pains.

You quickly showed some mercy towards Miyeon, pulling out as she quickly put her left hand back in her sore hole before putting it back inside and grabbing her ass firmly, making sure to spread it as much as you could. This ended up being much more enjoyable for her, while Megan gave some pats to her friend's back. "Unnie is learning it well," she said when Miyeon finally took some courage to try a faster bounce, which really got her going. However, Megan didn't let it last long.

"I want you to take a turn in my ass," she said. "Yes, baby," you approved. Miyeon ceded her position on top of you but then went to taste her clean, flower-smelling butthole as Megan was making out. "Yes, I want to fuck your ass," you reiterated to Megan, signaling it was her turn. Miyeon gave your tip a little lick and lined it towards Megan's bum as she fingered her anus a little to ease it out for your cock, but even with her friend's helping hand, it still took some time to find it. Similarly to Miyeon, Megan had a tight, tiny hole that made you groan from the moment you got inside it. Unlike her friend, she had much less of an issue taking it in the ass, riding your prick moderately from the start.

"Yes, fuck my big dick," you bragged to Megan, who obliged. "Oh my God," you said as you hit the depths of her anus for the first time. Just like when you take her in the pussy, Megan mantained her style of loud, opera-esque moans. "That's good," you told her just at the time she sttruggled a little, something you couldn't afford to do to Miyeon with another girl sitting on your face. You and Megan quickly develop good chemistry as you thurst upwards inside her butthole much faster than you did to Miyeon. When her moans make her voice crack, you can easily tell it's time to go easier on her, but when she screams perfectly, you know you can pick up the pace.

"AHHHH FUCK," Megan cracks as you dig deeper in her hole. You kindly spread her butt as the edges of her rectum start turning red, reassuring her as she tries to go faster. "Yes, baby, keep going," you encourage her. Megan pushes through; even the pain is somewhat pleasurable to her, as she finally gets on the rythym with wiggling jiggles against your cock that send you over the moon. "I love the way you stretch my ass," she tells you just as you pull out of her. Unlike in Miyeon's case, Megan's butthole is quite gaped, just like her pussy. "Good girl, let's keep going for a little," you tell her as you spank her butt and she inserts your cock back in.

"Spread her ass," you ask Miyeon, who laugs and does it. You reach deeper into Megan's anus, but after a while, you want new challenges as you pull out of her. "Taste your ass, baby," you tell Megan, who dives on your cock as Miyeon takes on your balls before Megan takes it all by herself. "I wanna do my asshole again," Miyeon asks as she challenges herself once more. "Turn around and put your ass up," you ask her as you tongue her ring while Megan fingers herself while watching it. You slap Miyeon's butt and try to ease her entrance as much as possible, knowing she's gonna need it as you get ready to top her. Even after the first fuck, her asshole hasn't changed much and is still tight. You enter it from behind very calmly but manage to insert your full length with ease. Getting on all fours turns out to be a much more comfortable position for Miyeon than cowgirl.

"Oh, fuck, that's perfect," Miyeon tells you, who takes her slow but deep, finding the rhythm from the start. She enjoys it much more this time. "Hmm, you like it in the ass now," you tell her. "Yes, I do," she answers while you look into Megan's eyes and kiss her as she enjoys herself. Megan asks the same question as you did and gets the same answer from Miyeon, who now fingers her friend's pink pussy along with Megan. You go faster, putting Miyeon on the edge; she never got an anal orgasm before, but you are getting there. "So much fucking dick in my ass," she tells you, still in awe. Megan spreads her cheeks, but Miyeon really doesn't need it anymore; she's much better adjusted and in a more preferable position than during the first time. "Wow, you're so deep," she says. Could you be the one who finally manages to unlock her anal pleasures?

You push harder, mounting on Miyeon like you would a more experienced girl. She moans and laughs, just enjoying your dominance over her rectum. "Yes, right there," she says as you continue to pound her. "I'm ready to cum," she says as her hole clenches and she squirts into the bedsheets. Megan is definitely impressed. "I want you to fuck me just like that too," she says right to your eyes as you pull out of Miyeon and give some kisses to her neck and a little pat in the ass in approval. "That's my dirty girl who loves asses," you say as Megan quickly jumps to taste your cock. "Suck it too, baby," you tell Miyeon.

You prepare Megan the same way you prepared Miyeon. Her more flexible asshole means it's an easier job, but you keep it consistent, calmly inserting it in her anus as she reacts with a big smile when you go in. "That's my dirty little slut," you say to her. "You look so good fucking her in the ass," Miyeon says as Megan gives her classic flawless screams. "Yes, take it, my little baby," you tell her. "Make me cum," she orders you as you penetrate her at a 90-degree angle from her body, fully topping Megan as she inches closer to orgasm as she rests her head on the bedsheets. You let Miyeon give you extra help as she spits on Megan's already massively gaped butthole and provides you with the extra grip you need to make her scream her way to orgasm. Megan now rests her entire body in the bed as you pound her ass in a prone bone position and go balls deep on her, to which she eventually caves and cums on the sheets.

Miyeon was the one playing the "dirty girl" role this time, as she chimes in and tastes your cock. But she's actually just preparing herself. She took your cock as deep as she could, making sure it was wet from top to bottom, jerking it off compulsively. As she gave her final spit on it, Miyeon sat on it once again, this time in reverse. "Yes, give me that sexy ass," you told her as she inserted it. "Oh my God," she said as she put it full length inside her anus for a third and final time. "Shit, I love your boyfriend's fucking cock," she told Megan as she started to bounce. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," she said as she fingered her needy cunt and adjusted it to your length.

"I love taking this cock," she said with a big smile on her face, riding it faster as you also started pounding her from down low and both your bodies clashed. "More, more, more, more," she asked as she increased her intensity. "Hmm, you love jumping on this fucking cock, baby," Megan poked her. And Miyeon surely did. "I'm ready to bounce this fucking cock until I die," she said. The teachings Sana gave her were finally working, but she was about to get things flipped on her head.

"Lay on me," you "ordered" her, actually just pushing her back towards your chest. You grabbed both Miyeon's legs and took control of the fun. "I love the way your balls fucking clap when you fuck my ass," were her last words. What came after were just moans as you hit her hard and deep, Megan helping you as she fingered Miyeon's pussy. "Taje this cock, Megan said as she helped lift Mieyon's legs fully up in the year. From the dominant girl riding on top of the world, Miyeon was now a submissive slut, taking the roughest anal pounding she ever did in a full nelson. Her butthole was on fire as you obliterated it full speed, giving her no rest whatsoever. But Miyeon didn't mind whatsoever, just searching to cum again as Megan kept rubbing her clit and you kept destroying her insides.

"Wanna cum all over my boyfriend's cock?" Megan asked her. "Yeah," Miyeon replied, twisting as she continued to get stretched out. "Don't stop, don't stop," she commanded. "Ohhhh fuck! Right fucking there," Miyeon said, and you pounded her with all your might. Megan took advantage and gave her a deep kiss. You now had Miyeon's body bouncing in sync with your cock. "That's so fucking deep inside my ass," she said as you pulled out, making an air pop come out of her asshole. Megan was quick to scoop your cock up, not sharing it with her unnie whatsoever, just like Miyeon did earlier to her.

Miyeon rested herself in the bed, feeling a lot of soreness and wondering how she would even walk back to the afternoon practice. Meanwhile, Megan was deepthroating you, wishing for her turn to be even better. "Good, baby, come here and give me your tight little ass," you asked Megan as she sat on top of you. Unlike Miyeon, Megan offered no resistance, letting you pound her hard from the start as she fingered her clit. "AHHHHHH!" she screamed once more as her legs closed, letting you take advantage of her. "Lay down on me," you said just like you did to Miyeon, giving Megan a pounding that made her let out glass-shattering screams, spreading her legs at a 120-degree angle.

"Harder," Megan said, and you granted her wish, making what you did to Miyeon look like child's play. Megan's legs tingled in a way she could barely feel them, while her pussy uncontrollably squirted. "FUCK!" she yelled so hard the whole spa could hear. Miyeon sucked her cute tits as waterfalls were gushing out of Megan's pussy. Now free from your leg locking, Megan just stood sideways as you kept pounding her. "Woahhhhhh!" she screamed, finding new ways to moan and getting you close to cum. "Harder, fuck my ass harder," she kept saying as she got back into a straightened position, even with you taking her to the maximum. "Yes, baby," you obliged as Megan's legs closed and her eyes rolled, leaving her vulnerable to your final attack. "OHHHHH FUCKKKKKK," she said.

You spread Megan's legs in the air one final time, annihilating her asshole to the fullest. "Yes, play with my pussy," she demanded of Miyeon. "FUUUUCK, I'M CUMMING!" Megan screamed as she closed her legs yet again, allowing you to use your right arm and bear-hug her thighs as her pussy covered your cock with juices and Miyeon drank them, but Megan quickly followed up with a good top-to-bottom lick of your pole. You were panting as the rough assfucking of Megan had drained all your energies. As they teamed up on your cock, you warned them. "I'm gonna cum".

Megan shoved Miyeon's back to the bed and got on top of her, ready to get your love milk as a reward for the anal obliteration she just endured, eagerly sucking your big dick to the base. You happily answered her wishes, unloading six shots of love custard in her mouth, with Miyeon scooping what dribbled out of Megan's chin. "Show me your tongue," you asked Megan as you inserted your already flaccid cock in her mouth for her to lick it, but she still sucked it to perfection before swapping the sperm you just dropped in her mouth with Miyeon. "Your boyfriend's cum tastes so good," Miyeon told Megan as they kissed and laughed at each other before licking your cock one final time, with Megan also giving her a few licks on her neck and tits. "This is the best fuck I ever had," were Miyeon's final words.

Afternoon time

The practice was a struggle for Miyeon, as expected. She looked severely out of sync when dancing; her moves were very limited. Her voice looked very powerless as well. Soyeon was quick to notice and intervened as she called her name. "Miyeon, what's going on? Is there any problem?" she asked. "No," Miyeon tried to deny, but as they continued to practice, it was clear she was lying. "We need to talk in private," Soyeon said as Miyeon made yet another egregious mistake.

"I saw you go to the spa this morning, Miyeon. I thought spas were supposed to make someone look more relaxed. Be real, Miyeon? Did you go to a motel instead to get anal sex? I'm pretty sure these feet you sent on the group chat this morning were from Jiwon, not from Sana," Soyeon said, alluding to Miyeon's nymphomanic best friend.

"Jiwon and I had sex with a guy in the spa, and yes, he fucked both of us in the ass," Miyeon confessed. Soyeon looked her in the eye, sensing she was now telling the truth. "Girl, what's going on in your head? Don't you remember all these rumors that circle around to this day about why you left YG? The Blackpink member that never was. Think of your career and of what you built here for us," Soyeon said. Miyeon cried a little, but Soyeon wiped it out quickly. "Don't cry; I don't condemn anyone for wanting to have sex as much as they can. You know me; you know that I would sound like a hypocrite if I did. Just pick the right places, know your limits, and be careful. And do it in a way that won't compromise your work," Soyeon finished.

"We can continue the practice now, but for today, we'll do it without Miyeon. She needs a good rest," Soyeon told the other members as Miyeon headed home. Meanwhile, you had been fired from the spa, as the loud screams Megan gave in that bedroom were indeed heard by plenty of members. Lucky for her and Miyeon, her label quickly intervened to avoid a scandal of gargantuan proportions. Now you also had to go home, but it took a much longer time as you had lost your wallet, all that while knowing it was your final time crossing the river as you would have your worker visa terminated.

Evening time

At her home, Miyeon texted Minnie if she wanted to have dinner with her. "Me over Sana? I'm surprised. But sure". Minnie texted positively as they arrived at their preferred restaurant. But Minnie obviously chose a Japanese one, her favorite food. It wasn't today that Miyeon was going to be free of any Sana thoughts. "Private table for two," Miyeon said. The two chatted over the course of your dinner until Minnie finally touched on the issue.

"Soyeon told me about what went on this morning," Minnie said. Miyeon looked petrified. "Miyeon, listen. You can't be Sana without the resources of Sana. She has the backing of a massive label and a whole country behind her. We are popular idols that worked really hard, but we must admit that there are idols who are at a different level. She's one of them. Just because I'm close friends with Lisa, I won't be hanging out with French billionaires like she does; that circle is reserved only for her. I think you're a winner just for being such a big friend to her. Let her be like this and have great experiences together. Don't try to be her. Just like I'm not Lisa," she continued.

"Thanks," Miyeon said, taking Minnie's advice. "I couldn't resist; I just got an instant crush on that guy; the moment he entered that room, I was having naughty thoughts," Miyeon said. "Look, I don't blame you," Minne said. "He's really hot. And I'd never have known Jiwon would be so wicked. Now I know why she goes by Megan," Minnie laughed. "America has Megan thee Stallion; Korea has Megan thee Shorty," she joked. "Nicha, you are so corny," Miyeon said back.

"I see you still have his wallet. We need to find a way to get it back to him. He probably had a hard time going back home without those transport cards. We can't use Cube's post office. I think we should find out where he lives and hand it back. Of course, taking all safety precautions." Minnie said. "Sure." Miyeon agreed. It wasn't long until they found out. "What a funny coincidence! He lives in Incheon, Majeon neighborhood. I think you know this place." Minnie winked as she checked the app, calling for a cab. "We'll definitely have to cross the river asap and go south of Gimpo Airport before heading north. We'll be there in 30 minutes. The route north of the airport is shorter but so crowded that it takes over an hour. A pain in the ass, maybe bigger than the one you're feeling right now," Minnie said. "We gotta go now before it's too late," she continued.

You were at home, booking your flight out of Korea. Even after suffering the consequences, you didn't regret anything, as you despised your boss at the spa. You ate your pre-cooked dinner and watched a little TV before the doorbell of your house started to ring. You wondered who it could be, as the clock told you it was almost 9 p.m. But you opened the door regardless.

Two women greeted you, one with a very familiar face. Minnie introduced herself. "I'm Nicha Yontararak, but you can call me Minnie, yes, like the Disney character," she said. "Sure, Minnie," you responded. "I think you know her already," she said, pointing to Miyeon. "You lost this at your work early this morning," Minnie said, taking your wallet out of her coat.

"Thanks," you said, very grateful they had found it out. "May we come in?" Minnie asked. "Sure, I don't think I can deny it after your kindness," you said. "I just don't have anything; I just finished dinner," you continued. "Not a problem; we already ate. Do you have something we could play and spend some time on before we head back home?" she asked. "Only those cards," you said. "I'm getting out of this apartment tomorrow and heading back to my country; I got fired from my job today," you said. "I'm sorry. Tell us if there is anything we can do to make you feel better," Minnie said. "I'm fine; I hated that job anyway," you said. "Let's play some cards."

"The highest card gets to kiss my little friend," Minnie says. Miyeon blushes. "I'm fine if she accepts it," you say. "I'm good," Miyeon replies. You win the first round and give Miyeon a soft kiss as she giggles and reminds herself of this morning's experience. "Next round, the highest card kisses Minnie," you say. Now Miyeon is the winner as she gets on her knees in front of you to kiss her groupmate. But as you waited for the next round, Miyeon interrupted: "What if we play a different game?" she asked, pushing your body towards the couch.

Miyeon took her coat off, already showing off the black lingerie she had under it. She definitely had something to prove and felt overshadowed by Jiwon at the spa. "The game is me sucking the cock while you watch," she told Minnie. "Okay," she replied. Miyeon quickly took your pants off and dove right to your already-erect bulge. "Look at this size," she said, taking it in her mouth from the start and getting it wet. Quickly, she was taking it deep in her throat. "Little slut, I know how long you've been waiting for this," Minnie said as she pressed Miyeon's head against your shaft. "Good girl," Minnie continued.

Definitely, Miyeon had a different feel to her in the morning. Even with your massive monster in her throat, she didn't gag at all, spitting on it soon after and letting Minnie freely push her head towards the base of it. She sucked you vigorously, so much so that soon Minnie wanted a slice of the pie. "Let me taste that cock too," she ordered. The Thai hottie took it in her mouth next, showing she could deep-throat it just as well as Miyeon. "So yummy, isn't it?" Miyeon asked her. Minnie continued to do so while Miyeon licked the sides of your prick and took your balls before taking them back from Minnie as both reversed the roles.

"I love this cock all the way down my nasty throat," Miyeon said as she kissed Minnie. "Work that cock in your mouth," she ordered Minnie, making her play the role Miyeon had done many times when Sana was teaching her. "You look so pretty with this cock in your mouth," she told Minnie before taking the initiative to take it deep in her mouth like a maniac, letting Minnie taste it as soon as she pulled out. "Gag on that cock," she told Minnie as her groupmate went down on it. Soon both were wrestling for that throbbing didk, moving their hands up and down your shaft.

"You like the way both of us work on that cock?" Miyeon asked you, who were so overwhelmed you could only give her a timid positive answer. They continued to team on it, with Miyeon taking your boner while Minnie heated your balls. Minnie kept testing her beautiful friend's willingness to take it, bone-pressing Miyeon's mouth on your shaft. "What a good fucking slut you are," Minnie says to her. "Now spit in my mouth," she continues. Miyeon follows it and gives Minnie the saliva she needs to go deep, before both keep taking turns going hard and deep. You're just a watcher, as now Minnie turns Miyeon's face red as she attempts to make her take even your balls in her mouth.

"I love fucking my mouth with your cock," Miyeon says as she now does the same to Minnie, who gags halfway in. "It looks like we have a winner," Miyeon brags. The two now lick your shaft up and down, chasing each other's mouths, before Miyeon takes it all to herself. "That's a good girl," giggles Minnie as she tries to go deep again. "Oh yes, take it all." You finally say a word, as this time Minnie successfully deepthroats you. "All the way down that big cock," Miyeon praises her and strokes you harder, challenging herself once more.

"Fuck her face," Minnie orders as you finally get more active and give little thrusts to Miyeon's mouth. But you don't even need to work that hard, as she's once again pushing Miyeon down your shaft. You take her softly, just giving her mouth a few pumps. "Now I want you to fucking choke on that cock," Miyeon tells Minnie as the Thai girl now takes her turn. Unlike Miyeon, just a few pumps are enough to make Minnie pull out. Miyeon continues to run insane, jerking you off hard as she takes your cock back in her warm mouth. Minnie tries to match her energy, but Miyeon seems possessed by the spirit of her friend Sana.

As soon as Minnie adjusts to your length, Miyeon is already slapping it on her cheeks and sliding her naughty tongue on your balls. "Gasp for air," you ask as Miyeon takes a minute-long deepthroat on your shaft before gagging. Minnie tries to match it, but with the thursts on your face and your massive length, she can only go for 10 seconds. "I want to get throated until tears run down my eyes," Minnie says, and Miyeon quickly tries to ensure her wish is granted. "Time to fuck the shit out of you," Miyeon says as she starts taking her clothes off. Her visuals as she says those dirty words to you are amazing, but her slim body manages to draw your attention just as much.

Minnie still has her dress on and tries to take advantage of her final moments slurping your big shaft in her mouth. As Miyeon finishes taking her panties off, Minnie is already jerking you off, knowing her groupmate has her sights on that massive pole. She presses her ass on it as she reaches down to her entrance to put it in. "Stretch me out," she commands to you. "How does it feel?" Minnie asks as she gives Miyeon's butt a couple taps. Miyeon let her dirty words do the talking. "Daddy, you stretch me so well," she says as she starts to bounce. "There you go, you little slut," Minnie laughs as she grabs your balls while Miyeon rides.

"That's so fucking hot," Minnie says as Miyeon increases the pace of her ride. She is very concentrated, telling herself that if Sana can do it, so can she, trying to match her best friend's intensity. It helps that Minnie is now pushing her down. "AHHHH," Miyeon moans as your hard pole hits her cervix. "Turn the heat up, you fucking whore," Minnie talks dirty to her. You are on the edge as Miyeon's walls rip your shaft apart. "Say it louder," Minnie continues to provoke; the harder Miyeon goes, the more her groupmate asks for more. "It's so fucking deep in my fucking cunt," Miyeon says as her cheeks clap on your hips and her moans get louder.

"Jerk that cock in my fucking pussy," Miyeon continues her profanity show; her princess image was truly left at the door of your house. The more she curses, the more Minnie disciplines her with extra spanks, turning Miyeon's butt red. "I'm your fucking whore," she repeats to you as Miyeon now jerks you off, even with Miyeon bouncing as hard as she can. Minnie enjoys it as Miyeon tilts her whole body against your chest as she twerks on your dick. "Ride that dick like the whore you are," Minnie repeats, giving Miyeon a hard spank that makes her scream. The Thai girl wants everything, asking Miyeon to wink with her asshole as she works your pole out. Miyeon spreads her ass and lets her open hole gape and clench multiple times.

You take advantage and reach towards Miyeon's neck to choke her, as she is now in a straight position. "Ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhh," Miyeon moans even as you try to close her throat, and the choking only makes her more aggressive in her ride. "Oh my God, look at that fucking ass," Minnie says. "STOP IT, MINNIE," Miyeon replies back as her groupmate's spanks annoy her. "FUCK HER HARDER," Minnie screams as she takes her hands off Miyeon and now lets your cock do the work to make the stretched beauty scream. "FUCKING CHOKE ME LIKE A WHORE," Miyeon demands as she gets fully stretched out. Minnie loves seeing her beg like this and asks for Miyeon to repeat her words, to which she obliges, as her groupmate also grabs her neck.

But Miyeon enjoys this. Even with her face fully red now, the more she gets choked by both of you, the harder she tries. "AHHH FUCK FUCK!" she screams as you thurst harder and hit her deeper, to which she answers with a bounce of her own that makes you groan like a caveman. You too take your hands off her neck as Minnie spits on your cock, enjoying Miyeon's beautiful ride from a privileged back view. Miyeon is now the dominant one, shoving Minnie's head against your balls while her ass hits her groupmate. "Let me take that fucking asshole," Minnie says as she puts her tongue on Miyeon's rectum while her groupmate's cheeks swarm her tongue.

"Look at that tight asshole," Minnie says as she sticks her middle finger up Miyeon's butthole. "Tease my fucking asshole," Miyeon demands as she keeps going. "So you could do this all night," Minnie tells her. "But you need to leave something for me too," she continues as Miyeon pulls out. Your erection now is otherworldly veiny; your tip throbs full of blood as you push your cock on Minnie's entrance. And she means business as soon as she takes it in, riding you fast as if Miyeon's ride had never ended. "Slide it in that fucking pussy, work that fucking cock," Miyeon tells her. "Good girl, keep going, bounce harder." Miyeon takes the opportunity to now be the one slapping Minnie's ass, but also with your helping hand.

"Fuck him like that," Miyeon keeps saying as Minnie works her hips; she alternates a few slow rides with more crazy-paced ones. "Put your tongue in my asshole," she asks Miyeon, who loves doing it as she moans on Minnie's dirty hole while you thurst upwards against her Thai cunt. "Harder, harder, harder, please," Minnie begs as you stretch her out. "You hear that, Daddy? Fuck her harder," Miyeon says as she spanks Minnie once more. You answer her prayers as you hammer your cock faster against her tight babyhole. "Nasty whore likes to ride daddy's big cock," Miyeon whispers to Minnie. "Yes, HOLY FUCK," Minnie answers just as you hit her sensitive spots.

Miyeon gets a great view as Minnie's ass cheeks start to tremble with your cock fully buried inside her fuckhole. "Take every inch of that dick, up and down," Miyeon demands as Minnie continues to ride you with as her insides throb. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," she repeats. "Fuck her like a whore," Miyeon insists. Minnie can now only scream, even as you choke her. Your cock slides out of Minnie, and Miyeon quickly scoops it. "Taste my pussy, please," and out of breath, Minnie demands. "Tell me how it tastes," she begs, but Miyeon doesn't answer, just having all the fun to herself with that big cock in her mouth. Miyeon tells her it's yummy, but she's actually thinking of your cock as she slaps it back in Minnie's vagina while massaging your balls.

"Keep riding that fucking dick," she says as she slaps Minnie harder. "That's so hot," she says as Minnie screams and can only beg to be fucked. You pump her pussy faster. "Hmm, you like that? Tell me." Miyeon continues as you destroy Minnie's tight hole. "Yes, I love it. I love this fucking cock stretching me out," Minnie claims as she is now completely out of breath and angrily moaning. "Uhhh, yeah," Miyeon continues to poke her. Minnie slows her ride as Miyeon tells her she is ready for more.

"Sit on my face; I want to taste that stretched pussy," you say to Minnie, who moves quickly towards it. Miyeon already fingers herself in preparation for another ride, this time in reverse; it's her specialty after all. Now you have two beautiful, sexy women on top of you, moaning their lungs out. Minnie steals the show this time, as your licks on her sensitive cunt make her go over the moon. But Miyeon quickly matches her with another crazy ride and dirty talk. "Oh, daddy, you make my pussy so wet just for you," she says. "That's my fucking cock; I'm his fucking whore," Miyeon continues to talk, being the polar opposite of that shy girl you saw early in the morning. "I want it all inside me," she continues as she fingers herself.

"I love the way you fuck me, daddy," every time Miyeon calls you. You get more feral. "Make me take it; you're gonna make me cum," she keeps going as she now lets you take control. "Cum for us, cum all over this fucking cock," Minnie says as she now focuses her attention on Miyeon's clit and fingers it. Miyeon screams the hardest but keeps focused on moving up and down your cock regardless. Minnie now slaps her thighs, but Miyeon stays unfazed, just wanting to please herself as best as she can. But Minnie keeps trying to distract her as she now moves towards grabbing Miyeon's perky tits, working in tandem with you so you can push your cock up against Miyeon.

"Oh yes, fuck her, fuck her, fuck her," Minnie yells as her stimulation of Miyeon opens the door for you to pump Miyeon's pussy up. But Miyeon quickly answers and retakes control. Minnie now slaps her groupmate's clit as Miyeon gets close to cum. "It's so deep, it's so deep; make me cum," Miyeon demands as Minnie now slaps her face. Miyeon rotates on your cock as she releases her juices and goes straight back to taste them, leaving Minnie no room. In the end, she incentivizes her "Yes, taste your pussy like that," Minnie tells Miyeon. "There you go, you fucking little slut; put that dick deep in your mouth," Minnie says as she taps Miyeon's cock-filled cheeks and watches Miyeon get throatfucked.

Minnie takes it deep in her throat herself as she gags on it, licking your shaft hard, but Miyeon is hungry and wants it all for her, taking it all for her. "Worship every inch of this fucking cock," Minnie demands. "Our guy here has been such a good boy and deserves it," she continues. Miyeon keeps sucking and stroking as Minnie lets Miyeon warm your cock for her. "Fuck my face," Miyeon says again as she gags on it after a bone-pressed deepthroat. Now it's Minnie's turn to take it in reverse, cowgirl. Miyeon talks dirty to her and fingers Minnie's cunt from the start, smirking at her groupmate as you stretch her insides.

"Who's the fucking whore now?" Miyeon provokes Minnie as she rides you at a steady pace. "Oh my God," Minnie groans as your length streatches her out and Miyeon licks her little tits. Minnie stops mid-air as she lets you pound her, getting impressive with your massive length as Miyeon continues to finger her. "Take it, take that fucking pounding," Miyeon demands. Minnie groans hard and makes a huge effort to increase her face, even as each hit you deliver in her cervix is like a stabbing. "I love hearing you scream like a whore," Miyeon continues. "Now he's gonna make you cum," Miyeon says, as you are now the one massaging Minnie's big, throbbing clit while she moves towards groping her groupmate's cute, bouncy boobs.

Minnie's legs start to shake, as now both your left hand and Miyeon's right are placed on her clit. She closes them hard as her thighs clamp on your shaft. Just as she spreads them a little, you strike back with a massive pounding as Minnie screams, "AHHHHHHH FUCKKKKKK." She loses her breath and tells you to keep going as your balls hit her sensitive clit, making her lose it and squirt on your couch, expelling your cock out of her pussy, her legs quaking as you rub your tip on her big clit before giving her cumming cunt an extra pounding that makes her lose it for good.

"I wanna taste my pussy," Minnie begs, but Miyeon doesn't let her and arrives first at the crime scene. For Minnie, she only leaves your balls as the two give you the hottest blowjob yet. "Gag on that cock" is all you can demand. "OHHHHH YESSSS!" Miyeon screams as she starts the third ride just in that night, plus the ones she had earlier the morning. After all, if Sana could ride the same cock 10 straight times, so could she. "I love taking Daddy's big cock in my tight, slutty pussy," she says in between her bounces, now also circling around your cock. Her ride this time is brief as she holds herself not to cum again this quick as Minnie tastes her juices as soon as your cock is free from Miyeon's tiny fuckhole.

"I'm so fucking hungry for cock," Miyeon claims as she throats you once more for a good time, then slaps your prick on Minnie's needy face, watching her cough as she takes it deep. The two trade cock slaps between each other and get your shaft wet. "Worship that fucking cock like it's the last dick on earth," Minnie demands of her. The two now just treat it like a toy for their own entertainment, slapping it all over their faces nonstop. "That's a good fucking slut," Miyeon praises Minnie as her groupmate finally manages to take your cock deep in her throat for a more prolonged time. The pair didn't want to let go of your cock, taking it like their personal lollipop.

"Yesss, I love it. Put it just like that in your fucking filthy mouth," Miyeon told Minnie as she slapped your cock on her and then shoved it in her Thai groupmate's mouth. Minnie quickly answered back and took your cock for more slaps on Miyeon's face. "Dirty boy getting his nasty cock on little princess face," Minnie said as Miyeon now maniacally caressed your balls while throating your shaft. "Luck at that fucking slut." Minnie was in awe at Miyeon's deepthroat prowess, as she could not leave your cock out of her mouth even with you now pounding her face as hard as you could. "You like that, bitch?" Minnie asked. "I LOVE IT!" Miyeon screamed just as she took your dick out of her mouth.

"Dive her head until she can't breathe," you told Minnie, who obliged and dunked Miyeon's red face into your hard boner using all her might. But Miyeon was restless and took a long time to gag. "Give me those fucking balls," Minnie asked as soon as Miyeon released them from her mouth and started working on your tip, spitting all over your pole. "Wow, look at that sack. I bet there is a lot of cum in there." Minnie continued the dirty talk. But you had enough of them, shoving Minnie on all fours while she moaned and lining yourself up to take her Thai pussy from behind.

"Uhhh, good," Minnie moaned as you inserted your cock back in her cunt. "Daddy, I wanna watch your fucking dick go in and out of her fucking pussy," Miyeon asked as she started tonguing Minnie's butthole once more. "Put your fucking tongue in my asshole," she demanded as Miyeon took a lick of both your shaft and Minnie's rectum as the Thai hottie finally called you daddy for the first time. "Taste that pussy out of this big cock," Minnie demanded as you facefucked Miyeon after pulling out of her. "Back and forth," Minnie continued, and you kept going, taking on her pussy and then Miyeon's mouth.

"I love being your cocksleeve; my pussy feels so good," Minnie said as you went back to pounding her nonstop, moving her hips back and forth and fingering herself while you spanked her ass, screaming like a dying goat. You stopped to give Miyeon's sexy mouth some kisses and spit on it, letting Minnie do all the work and engulf your shaft with her tight pussy. Miyeon used the spit you gave her right back into your cock. "Look at this slut being stretched out; keep going," she said. "I love watching the way you fuck her hard," Miyeon continued as she got to taste Minnie's pussy and you fucked her face once more. "I love watching how you fuck her face; now put it back in because I want that cock," Minnie said as she gave you a doggy ride, moving faster than you could thurst into her.

You had to tame Minnie with a rough pounding that made her scream hard, as Miyeon applauded. "Take this bitch, make her yours," she said as you gave Minnie's ass the hardest slap yet, which only made her move faster as you two fucked each other like a pair of savage animals until Minnie's whole body started to tremble and she fell to her knees. "Fuck the shit out of her for me," Miyeon demanded, grinding her teeth as she loved seeing Minnie get obliterated by your hard cock. "Fuck her, daddy," she continued, sending you over the moon. Minnie just closed her eyes and took it. "Spit on it," you told Miyeon as she followed your orders. "Nice. Now give it to her, she said. "You look so fucking pretty taking cock in your cunt," Miyeon continued to talk as Minnie could only yell and moan.

Minnie kept shaking, but you didn't take your cock out of her hole for a single second. She was built to be your cocksleeve. You loved the warmth of her pussy and were having thoughts of filling it with your seeds as you clapped her cheeks hard. But you showed some mercy and let Minnie breathe as Miyeon took your cock in her mouth for the hundredth time. "How does it taste?" you asked. "It tastes like a whore," she replied. "You want to take this cock again?" Minnie asked rhetorically; she knew Miyeon's eyes were glowing for a pounding like that.

"Slide under me," Miyeon asked Minnie, as her groupmate had already taken advantage of it to eat her beautiful pussy. Miyeon laid on Minnie's long body and prepared herself to get penetrated for the last time, moaning before you even had an inch inside her. She couldn't have asked for something better, as your cock pumped her cunt while Minnie used her tongue to sweep it. Miyeon placed her right hand on Minnie's clit as you pounded her at full speed, firmly gripping her ass. "I love your fucking balls in my tongue," Minnie said under her, enjoying as you worked Miyeon's pussy and stretched it to the fullest. But truth be told, she liked her tongue on Miyeon's clit even more, as she moved to it to make her groupmate moan even harder.

"This view is amazing," Minnie tells herself as she watches Miyeon get pounded, sticking her tongue to lick her groupmate's entire pussy. "Wanna taste it?" You offer your cock to Minnie, sticking it in her mouth. "Yes, taste it right out of my fucking cunt; that's so fucking hot," Miyeon approves. "Fucking use me," she keeps asking as you get back in. "Lick my balls," you order to Minnie as you pound Miyeon harder, slapping your sack hard against Minnie's face and Miyeon's clit. Miyeon keeps screaming. "Use my fucking pussy daddy; I'm your fucking whore," she says. "OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!" she screams as you top her to a point she only has Minnie to hold herself onto. But Minnie doesn't care and just enjoys watching her pretty groupmate get mauled.

You fuck Minnie's face as she provides the lube for your final attack, and you destroy Miyeon at full speed. "Daddy, fuck me, take every inch of it in my pussy," Miyeon screams as your balls slap her cheeks. "That slut is having the time of her life," Minnie says. "Yes, I'm your little fucktoy, daddy," Miyeon claims.

"You know what I want?" Miyeon asks, to which Minnie repeats. "Your hot fucking load is deep in my cunt," Miyeon answers. "Fill me up, Daddy, please," she continues. "You better give it to her," Minnie says as you get closer. Those loud women really turned you on. "Give it to me, daddy," Miyeon says. "Are you ready for it?" you ask her. "You're ready for that load, aren't you? Dirty little fucking slut," Minnie answers for her. You announce you're ready to cum as you empty your balls on Miyeon's tight little pussy as your cum drips out of it straight into Minnie's mouth, who also scoops it from your cock and more from Miyeon's pussy. "Ah, daddy, you were so good to me," Miyeon says.

"I wanna taste it right out of my fucking pussy," Miyeon asks, and Minnie swaps the semen into her mouth. Miyeon also takes a bit of cum from Minnie's neck, leaving her with a hickey as she sucks it, before they take turns trading the sperm between each other's mouths. "Such a yummy load," Miyeon says. "What a slut you are," Minnie tells her.

The girls dress up as the clock hits nearly 10 p.m.; they have to cross the river and head back home. The next day, you head to the airport, leaving the country for good. But with the best possible final memory you could have.

First time I crossed the 10k barrier for a smut. My original idea for this one got scrapped. Wrote this over the course of 2 weeks using the spa trip Miyeon did with Jiwon as an inspiration and turning it into a day-long story. Also the first time I put a few extra characters, including Soyeon as an on-screen character and Sana as a prominent off-screen character.

#gidle smut #fromis 9 smut #miyeon smut #minnie smut #Jiwon smut #Park Jiwon smut #girl group smut #female idol smut #kpop smut

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