#danielle smut

As DANIELLE, one of MY girlfriends, was coming back from looking at a display, that caught her eye because of how cute it was. I couldn't help but record her as she was walking towards me, zooming in and panning up & down her body as if I was worshipping it. Seeing how her hips would move up & down, while the sun would make her expose skin shine; Bringing MY attention to her tone stomach that she got from all the running she has been doing! DANIELLE caught onto what I was doing, since she has had years of playing towards the camera turning people into her fans.

As she ran towards ME with the biggest innocent smile I have seen on her. While she got up close to MY face, to the point were I had to put the camera down, because she wasn't giving the camera any space for it to be between ME & her.

DANIELLE : "Did you like what you were filming? Did you like how my hips move up & down? I added a little extra bounce in my step just for you! So you should have, especially since you are going to be pleasing me today!"

The energy & joy that was radiating off of her broke ME, as I grabbed her and turned her, with her back leaning on the rail of the board walk. While she faced towards the busy street, leaving ME being able to make out with her with no one seeing. Since MY body was wide enough to engulf hers when I hugged her. Lost in the taste of her lips, saliva, and tongue, it took ME a minute for me to feel her hand sliding down MY pants.

As she was now shifting her attention to MY neck & shoulder area. While she was kissing it, one by one her fingers wrapped around MY dick, as I felt her hand stroke MY cock. Once I snapped out of the trance that her lips & breathing she was placing on MY neck put me in, I stepped back surprise from how bold she was being. Just to see her looking back at ME with big puppy eyes, and the fingers that were on MY cock, were now on her lips as she nibbled & sucked on those finger tips.

ME : "You can't be doing that! What happens if someone would notice!" DANIELLE : "Oh but you shoving your tongue down my throat, they wouldn't notice that? And even if they, who cares! Maybe then HYBE would get off my back! Anyways remember, you have to do what I want no questions!"

ME realize she's right, I gave in and stepped back into her lips, as she put her hand on MY on my cock, like if it was her hand's rightful place! DANIELLE went back to stroking MY dick and running her lips up & down my neck, while she purposely breathed heavily into MY ear as she whispers in it with a teasing tone.

DANIELLE : "Aren't you suppose to be recording this for Livi?! Remember she's being nice to her little sister, and lending this big throbbing cock of yours all to myself today."

I did what she told me to do; Reluctantly and kinda of shy, I raised the camera as if we were taking a selfie. While trying to hold some groaning, I tried to explain the current situation into the camera.

ME : "Right now, we are at the pier spend some time" DANIELLE : "Come on now you got to give more details than that! Explain to Livi what exactly her little sister is doing to you right now!"

I took a deep sigh and as I breath in, I was cut off by the sudden quick strokes that DANIELLE gave MY dick. I was trying to control MY moans & volume so other people wouldn't hear what I was saying.

ME : "Right now, we are at the board walk!(MUFFLED MOAN)and your little sister has her hand in my pants, stroking my cock. While we are in public

With excitement, DANIELLE pulled her back, moving her lips away from MY neck, but not before leaving a hickey. As she turn and spoke to the camera in a very loud voice interrupted ME!

DANIELLE : "Unnie, his dick is so big! hard! and it's throbbing! I can't believe you took all of it a few nights ago!

In the middle of her sentence she turned to ME, talking to ME in a tone that was very performative for the camera.

DANIELLE : "I want to put it in my mouth! The same big dick I saw going to into my sister's pussy a few nights. I want it in my mouth! Please can I taste it?" ME : "Okay I get it but you can't be saying that out loud. Anyways I thought you were in charge and I don't have any power today" DANIELLE : " What? It's normal that a little slut like me wants to taste this amazing cock of yours, when this time I have it all to myself! Also you're right, you don't but I want to be a good little slut, that gets everything she wants. and a good little slut asks for permission." ME : "Fine but lets fin...." DANIELLE : "There's a little gap between those stores!!!"

As she interrupted ME and dragged be to the spot. While she pushed ME against the side of one of the stores, DANIELLE guide MY hand, with the camera, up to a similar position it was in before. Keeping her in frame, as she goes down on her knees and pulls out MY dick out of MY pants.

DANIELLE : "WOW! It's so much bigger up close!! Can't believe my sister took all of it!" ME : "Wait not here, I meant some where more..."

As DANIELLE didn't let ME finish again, but this time interrupted ME by shoving MY cock down her throat in one movement. Which send shivers up MY spine making MY body shake as if it was begging for more!

DANIELLE : "You gotta keep the camera steady! Give Livi a quality film!"

Then she went back to stuffing her mouth with MY cock. Wrapping her tongue around it, as if she was trying to remember every edge and how it curved. While she moved her head up & down never detaching her mouth from MY dick. Which filled the alley with her sloppy wet sounds as her hand was following her lips; Spreading the saliva, that her mouth was leaving behind, across MY shaft which gave ME the idea of switching the camera angle. To a top view with a frame filled with DANIELLE's widened eyes tearing up, as her lips wrapped around MY dick, and took it completely down and held it. Gathering even more saliva to spread as she pull her lips back up to the tip. This time she pulled all the way back making a popping sound as her lips left the tip of my dick. DANIELLE took a deep breath but couldn't help but tease me.

DANIELLE: "Wow I got myself a professional camera man. You just gave me a bunch of different new ideas that we can try to do next time"

While she tilts her head to the side, and slaps her cheek with MY hard, dripping wet from her saliva, dick creating sloppy wet clap reverberating in this alley. As she was licking her lips clean from the precum & saliva mixture she had around her mouth, and it look like she was enjoying & tasting every drop of it.

She reaches over to get something from her bag and pops up right in MY face. So close she made ME put the camera to the side, but she adjusted it to keep us in frame. As she gave me two peanut vibrators in MY hand.

DANIELLE : "I know you know what does are! I seen you use them on Olivia before! Can you please use them, both on me, please!".

She took control of the camera while I spat on them to use as lube. I took MY hand the one that had one of the vibrators and trace her body with MY finger tips. As I got closer to her jeans I flipped my hand upside down so the first thing in her pants would be my fingertips. As I went lower I curved my fingertips into her pussy, which had ME cuffing it with the vibrator, that I held in MY palm, rubbing against her clit. While moved MY forearm back & forth, I pushed the vibrator forward towards MY fingertips. Which ended leaving the vibrator in DANIELLE's pussy, and when I finally pulled back I switched the vibrator on. With the sudden vibrations, DANIELLE threw her head back, as her legs were experiencing waves of micro shakes going through. While her legs were weaken, she still had enough ware of to change the angle of camera, for it to have a downward angle of her face. As she was playing to the camera, I circling her hips reaching for her ass to grasp it.

DANIELLE : "Sis, he just put one in my pussy! I can't believe you experience this! You are so amazing!

Hearing this, for some reason made me a bit jealous. So I gave her ass a spank and man handle her ass cheeks, as I felt the weight of each cheek in MY palm. While MY hands were getting pinned between her jeans & her ass. Since MY hands were inside her tightly snugged jeans, that were almost working as a way to tease the public but yet used as a chastity belt.

ME : "You always bringing her up! I bet you love her don't you? with how many times you have already mention her!" DANIELLE : "Livi, I think someone is jealous of me loving you!"

As she turns her head to the side, looking at me and softly caressing the back of MY head.

DANIELLE : "It's okay! A little greedy slut like me has enough room to love both your amazing cock and Livi's pussy flavor! So how about putting the other one in already, baby!"

These words calmed ME down but at the same time they also got me excited from how nasty these sisters are. Especially recently from the days I spent together with them. So I started aggressively kiss her neck & shoulder area, while I pulled her lower half closer to me and spread her ass. I used MY finger tips to trace every wrinkle on her asshole, rubbing each one of them. Making DANIELLE stand on her tip-toes while she held on to ME, as I finally pushed the vibrator through her tight muscle ring. She finally relaxed, hanging her head over my shoulder, but not for long since I turned that one also on. Making her hold onto to me tightly around MY shoulders, as she pulled her head back to start making out with ME. She ran out of breath so she pulled her lips back, revealing a string of saliva the connected our mouths. Out of breath & panting she got the words "I LOVE YOU" out with the most sincere look in her eyes. Before I could say anything she got off of ME and started to pull ME by MY hand as she lead ME out of this alley. I couldn't help but lock onto her hips as she was walking in front of ME, seeing them sway as I replay in MY head the sensations of her holes. As she was pulling me out of the alley she turned around and spoke loudly

DANIELLE : "You know you can use those at any time you want and whenever you want!" ME : "You can't be saying that out loud someone can hear you!" DANIELLE : "It's not like they know I'm talking about the toys you put in my..."

As she was speaking, she was interrupted by a fan asking for a picture. The fan was curious about why we were there, and who was I, spending time with DANIELLE. We just told them we were there as an early birthday vlog and that I'm just a staff member. As DANIELLE squad down to take a picture with the fan, I took the moment to turn on the vibrators hoping to tease her. I could clearly hear DANIELLE try to muffle her moans, but her legs were give her away with how they were shaking.

At a restaurant...

After the fan encounter DANIELLE had, we went to a restaurant. As we were sitting down I noticed that the waiter would be coming from behind DANIELLE, and she wouldn't be able to see him coming. So as I saw the waiter coming to us, to take our order, I turned on the vibrators. DANIELLE, thinking she's safe enough, let out a soft moan and threw her head back letting herself feel it; But when she opened her eyes, she saw the waiter awkwardly waiting for her to finish. Kinda shy with a blushing face, she gave her order to the waiter. I did this a few more times, when the waiter came to drop of our orders and when he gave us the check. She fell for it every time, by the end, I was chuckling laughing.

ME : "You think by the third time you would realize what I was doing! Or maybe that just how desperate you are!" DANIELLE : "Who said I didn't? maybe I like him knowing I'm your little slut that you enjoy teasing in public!"

As she took a bite out of a fry while looking at ME with no sense of shyness or embarrassment. Of course, like I always left ME speechless, as I didn't know what to say.

In the store...

After a nice walk, we went into a store as I watched DANIELLE look around for clothing. I didn't mind because of her expression she would make when she found something cute. She finally had a good amount of options to try on, so as she went to the fitting room, she grabbed the camera from ME.

JOI (3rdPOV):

As DANIELLE went into the fitting room, she threw the outfits onto the bench. Pulling out the camera, pointing towards her, up & close to her face. While she was tracing her body with her other hand, making its way down through her jeans. DANIELLE : "Livi thank you so much for letting me borrow him for myself today. He's so amazing! His dick, omg! It has me so wet! Just imagining how he's going to break me with it! Especially how I been acting today, my pussy can't wait any longer, LOOK!"

DANIELLE lowering the camera, so her pussy could be hovering over it. As she filmed at a upward angle, having the frame be filled with only her wet sloppy pussy. While she was filming her fingers spreading her pussy lips, by lining them up with her pink tinted lips and making a V-shape with her fingers; Causing her to eagle spread her pussy, showing her clit throbbing as she moved her fingers in & out of her pussy.

DANIELLE : "You hear that?! That's how wet he has made your little sister! Yeah the same guy that was fucking you a few nights ago!" She got so into it, that she gave the camera a few kisses, and went to set it up across the bench. As she turned around and walked towards the bench, she would sway her hips, grasping her cheeks and jiggling them around in her hands for the camera, to tease her unnie. When she reached the bench, she face the camera, sat down with a foot on the bench, and the other leg stretched out.

DANIELLE : "Look! how slutty you have little sister behaving! I bet you are so proud of yourself! seeing how I fuck myself while thinking of you Livi! Thinking about how I know right now you are running your hands down your body! Have they made it to your pussy, yet? Are they going in & out of it? While you rub your clit!" As DANIELLE was showing the camera how wet pussy was, by being able to shuffle in & out four fingers knuckle deep. Moving up & down when they were in her. DANIELLE : "have your fingers reached your asshole yet? cuz I know how much of a weak point your ass is. I remember how your body went weak last time I was tracing your muscle ring with my tongue! Have you slide your fingers in & out of that tight muscle ring of yours? have they spread your asshole yet? Look, your little sister's pussy has become sloppy wet mess at the thought of you sliding your fingers in & out of your holes!" She popped up as if an idea came to her head, that made her grab the camera. With poppy eyes and an innocent look on her face she spoke to the camera, while with she used her other hand to finger herself at the thought of what she was saying. DANIELLE : " How about this, sis, for my birthday. You could maybe grab that dildo you store in the night stand next to your bed. Yeah, I know about it, by the way your fluids taste amazing. Anyways how about using it to stuff that ass of yourself! Have it spread your asshole even wider than your fingers could ever!....or or or ... how about later call him over and watch the rest of this video together with him! maybe jerk off his big thick cock or even ride it while having this play in the background."

A FEW DAYS LATER...

I was sitting on the cough with Olivia kissing MY neck as she was stroking MY cock; While I was watching the framing of the video being filled with DANIELLE's puppy eyes, as she was sucking on her wet dripping fingers. Just like her little sister, OLIVIA was teasing ME as she was jerking off by whispering in MY ear.

OLIVIA : "This was her in the fitting room! You see how wet we both got her! You with this fat big throbbing cock and me with this taste pussy! See how she's sucking on her fingers, that are cover with pussy fluids! I bet you she thinking those fingers are this thick cock! Can't wait to share her again with you, this time all three of us like that one night! But that can wait since you are apart of this family now!"

BACK TO THE BIRTHDAY DATE GIFT...

DANIELLE was a taking while, but I didn't mind. Since I knew what she was doing. That's why I was standing next to the door of the fitting room, guarded her the best I could; But I chose to tease her again or at least try to, by suddenly turning on the vibrators at full power. Which were followed by sudden loud moan along with what sound like a water fountain hitting the mirror. As we were leaving I heard a employee complain about a puddle in the fitting room. Making DANIELLE pull ME by the hand and run, which is when she was laughing & giggle with a big smile. I knew I just had to get it on camera, but I was only able to record the sky with giggling & laughter in the background.

END OF DATE, AT A HOTEL ROOM...

As soon as we got into the room, DANIELLE threw what she bought on the floor and got naked. Then jumped on the bed with her ass facing ME, she reached back with both hands to spread her ass.

DANIELLE : "LOOK, see what your little stunt did! It made my holes all wet & sloppy with my fluids being spread. Come take responsibility and finish me off!"

While she was spreading her wet pink tainted pussy lips, the room was being filled with her pussy sounds, and white thick creamy strings of her fluids were exposed. As they were the cause of her lips being stuck together and making those sounds. While her pussy provide little to no resistance, her asshole's tight muscle ring was since I could see how every wrinkle on her rim was being stretched outward. Seeing all this I excitedly got MY self in position rubbing the tip of MY dick up & down, from her clit all the way to the top of ass crack. By this time, DANIELLE let got of her ass, and was holding the camera pointing it at her self laughing.

DANIELLE : "Wait but before to you claim me as your slut, you have to dig out the vibrators in my ass & pussy only using your tongue. okie! Mr. Horn Dog!?"

As she said that, I looked up to see her reflection on the glass window, which was her with a smile trying to be cute for the camera. Feeling like I'm being treat like nothing but a human toy, a sense of angry came over ME, but with her bare juicy pussy waiting for ME, I couldn't really be mad. So I pulled MY hips back as I lower MY face to be eye level with DANIELLE's gaping pussy, with pink lips that are being burley held together by strings made from her fluids. I dove in spreading the strings with the tip of MY tongue. I found the vibrator very quickly, but I took MY time as I was moving around it, hitting every angle & wall in the inside of DANIELLE's pussy and topping it off with a kiss to her clit. I went back in and wrapped MY tongue around the vibrator and pulled it out. Once the vibrator was out, her body relaxed from all the kicking I was causing her to do with MY tongue exploring her pussy; But it didn't last long, as I filled the emptiness with MY cock very quickly. With one stroke the tip of my dick hit the back of DANIELLE's pussy, which had her gasping for air from the sudden filling and me going against what she told ME.

DANIELLE : "Wait you still have the one in my ass that you haven't..." ME : " I think some one has forgotten who she belongs to! I guess I just have to remind her!"

As I reposition her by turning her on her back, and slide her down to edge of the bed. She slid down getting penetrated by MY dick, and before she could start complaining again, I turned on the vibrator that was in her ass while her pussy was filled with MY dick. Which had her gasping for air again, but she didn't have a facial expression of being mad it was more like relief. As she put the camera down to the side giving it a side view of us in missionary position; When she turn back around she reached her arms and wrapped them around MY neck. With the hold she had, she pulled ME in kissing and in between whispering in a low tone which was the only thing she could manage.

DANIELLE : "Finally!! Now remind this slut who she belongs to! Because for a second there I thought you liked being talked down. Now punish this little slut for over stepping & power abusing!"

So I stop thrusting, which surprised her and she couldn't control the disappointment that was written all over her face. As I raised MY hand and turned off the vibrator.

ME : "Remember I'm in charge! I don't care what you want! Cuz what I want is to taste this ass of yours and make you have a anal orgasm. So I'll be tasting this asshole now!!!"

As I flipped her on her stomach with her face right in the camera, with ME in the background lowering MY head to be leveled with DANIELLE's asshole. I teased her a little bit more, by taking the most dramatic, longest, biggest sniff of her sweat messy asshole, and following it up with tracing over ever wrinkle that was on her rim with MY tongue. Then puckering MY lips and blowing into her asshole sending shivers up her spine! As I replace MY mouth with MY cock by thrusting deep into her ass, forceful spreading her asshole wider than it has been today, I laid over her with MY chin over her shoulder as I talked into her ear.

ME : "Come on now! Explain to your big sister, who is watching this video, what is being done to you!" DANIELLE : "Livi, right now you are watching your little sister get ass filled by the same cock that was fucking you a few days ago, and its about to make your little sister have a anal orgasm"

When she was finally done explaining, DANIELLE hanged her head as she moan into the bed. I hadn't had enough yet, so with one of MY hands I trace her body down to her pussy. As I started to tease her throbbing clit and fingering her pussy while still thrusting deep in her ass. I reached over with MY other hand and squeezed her cheeks together causing her mouth to open, as I shook her face I teased her even more.

ME : "That's it!? What happen! Because the only thing that has any energy are your hips, with the way they are bouncing of the bed with the recoil of every one of my strokes! You forget to thank your big sister for this anal orgasm I'm giving you!" DANIELLE : "He's right unnie! If it was for you Livi! His big thick cock wouldn't be in my ass right now stretching my asshole and reaching deep inside me. Which is making me cum from my ass being fucked.(MOANS) THANK YOU BIG SISTER! FOR THIS DICK IN MY ASS!!(MOANS) I LOVE YOU, LIVI!!!(MOANS)"

Towards the end she was cumming, and by the time she finished, her body collapse into the bed. As she was laying down her face in a pillow, I grabbed the camera and closed out the video.

In reality, the court ruling had given Danielle a reasonable amount of time to pay off her debt. At least in that regard, they were “kind” to her, but when you have the media and a multibillion-dollar company breathing down your neck, the last thing you want is to owe that company money. Especially not when it’s as large a sum as the one Danielle owed.

 It wasn’t the best option, far from it, and certainly not the one she liked best, but at least they were going to pay her an obscene amount of money in just one month. An amount so high that it would be enough to pay off the debt she already had and even leave her with a few million to spare. That was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up for anything in the world. In any case, she was sure she was losing money, again, because the company she’d signed with would almost certainly make a fortune off this. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have offered her that deal. But she was somewhat desperate, and for the moment, that was her only option. So even though she felt a little scammed, she signed the contract anyway.

Actually, there was another option, but that one was much worse, terrible in Danielle’s opinion. She could easily have accepted those offers investors always made her, offers they’d been making for more years than she cared to admit. But that would mean giving up her freedom for far too long, and letting an unknown group of people do who knows what to her. 

At least here the rules were clear, there was a script, and she had some control over what was happening. At least she could choose what she wanted to do and what was totally off-limits. She could ask for breaks from time to time if necessary. None of that would have been possible if she’d accepted the investors’ offer. 

At the end of the day, she’d end up with a cock in her mouth and getting fucked for someone else’s entertainment, but at least there was a purpose to it. She did it in front of the cameras with a crew making sure everything went more or less smoothly, but it was much better than the other option. Making porn was better than practically becoming the sex slave of a bunch of decrepit old men, who only wanted her because she still looked young enough to feed their darkest fantasies.

At least here she could choose who to film with, which cocks she’d have to swallow. So far she’d been able to choose a young guy, a little older than her, and two guys in their early thirties. They were quite a bit older than her, but nothing compared to the old men she would’ve had to fuck if she’d gone with the investors. The next actor, with whom she would be filming today, was a man approaching forty. Quite attractive, and apparently quite popular in the industry. That would certainly give this movie more reach. Just what Danielle needed, more press. More news reports circling around her like vultures, and reporters trying to reach her.

So far, everything had been kept under wraps. They’d managed to keep the contract and the fact that they were already in their third week of filming a complete secret. No newspaper or reputable reporter had found out. Much less any of those sleazy influencers who had been talking her up, and lining their pockets, by talking about her. At least that was a small victory for her. She’d been hiding in L.A. for a month and no one knew a thing. By the time it all blew up, she’d already be long gone.

After the debacle that was the verdict against her and the enormous debt it left her with, Danielle was lost in life for exactly one week. After that, a prominent “film studio” had contacted her to offer her a lucrative deal. Pay off her entire debt plus ten million to shoot four movies in a month, one movie per week. Of course, the movies could be nothing other than pornographic.

Danielle was in shock after receiving the offer; even though she knew idols received those kinds of offers all the time, for her it was something new. She couldn’t believe someone would offer her something like that, she wasn’t exactly an innocent angel, but she had the image of a sweet, home-loving girl. Nothing like those sexy idols who are always showing skin and wearing outfits that make it look like they're about to have a wardrobe malfunction on stage. Maybe that’s why they offered it to her, or because they knew she was desperate and would end up accepting sooner rather than later.

First, she tried to find another way out, to see if anyone would hire her for any job in the industry. But she quickly realized she was on the blacklist and that no one would hire her, not even to promote toilet paper. So, accepting reality, she had no choice but to accept the offer to do porn. It was the last option she had left. Or at least the last decent option, even though what she had to do wasn't decent at all.

It wasn’t as if Danielle was a virgin or anything like that, but she didn’t just sleep with anyone either. Sure, there were some pretty compromising photos and videos out there, but that was something that, in Danielle’s opinion, everyone did. Even so, the things she’d done on camera in the first two movies she’d filmed had been by far her wildest sexual experiences so far; and now, in this third movie, she was about to take it all a step further.

The first movie had at least required a certain level of acting on her part. It was a simple story where she was caught shoplifting and ended up fucking the security guard so he’d let her go. The guy she filmed with was pretty attractive and treated her well enough that it wasn’t an unpleasant experience.

The second movie was straight-up porn. It was a compilation of three scenes: in the first, she had to give two actors blowjobs, and they ended up taking turns fucking her. The second scene was more blowjobs, but this time for a group that ended up giving her a bukkake. Finally, in the third scene, she had to have sex with the two actors again, but this time they double-penetrated her. After that, her ass burned for the rest of the week.

Finally, the time had come to shoot the third movie, which luckily required her to act again; though in reality, it was a pretty stupid role. The plot was that she was a spoiled girl who was doing poorly in school, and to save herself from punishment, she had to have sex with her stepfather. It was nonsense, but that kind of movie seemed to be quite popular these days.

For this movie, they’d given her a pretty peculiar outfit. It was a sort of school uniform, but modified to be more revealing. She wore a white blouse tied under her breasts to show her stomach, a plaid skirt that covered almost nothing, mid-calf socks, and white sneakers. The outfit was completed by a huge backpack she had to carry in the first scenes. 

Her makeup was light, making her look younger than she really was, and they’d left her hair natural. The director had said that her curly hair made her look more “exotic.” Danielle rolled her eyes when she heard that.

Luckily for Danielle, the first day of filming had gone very well. Alex, her co-star for that movie, had guided her through the first scenes, which were when her stepfather discovered she had failed a test and threatened to punish her. Danielle’s character had had to beg him not to tell her mother, and had ended up seducing him to seal the deal.

The second day of filming had picked up right where they left off the first day. With Danielle sitting on Alex’s lap, looking at him with seductive eyes, and him slipping his hand under his stepdaughter’s skirt. When the director yelled “Action,” they both started kissing as if they were in a hurry, but without passion. Fortunately, Danielle was a good enough actress to mask that, or at least not make it cringe-worthy like in average porn. Alex was doing well too, but in her opinion, he was a little rough.

“You’re going to need more than that to buy my silence,” said Alex, sliding his hand deeper under Danielle’s skirt. Which was quite a lot, since the skirt didn’t cover anything, it barely reached a few inches below her buttocks, so Alex was already grabbing her ass.

Under the director’s watchful gaze, Danielle slowly stood up, swaying her hips in a sort of erotic dance. Which, to be honest, she wasn’t very good at. Not because she couldn’t dance, but because she was embarrassed and cringed at doing those things in front of a camera. Which was stupid in itself because she was filming porn, and that wasn’t even close to being the most embarrassing thing she’d have to do. It's even more ridiculous that she felt embarrassed about that, considering that she had to do all sorts of silly things in front of the cameras during her days as an idol. All for the entertainment of the masses.

“There’s so much more for you, Daddy.” Danielle let those words slip out as she touched her body and grabbed her small tits. Over the past few weeks, she’d had to do that a lot, offer her tits or her ass to tempt her co-stars.

“Let’s see what you have to offer.” Alex grabbed Danielle by the thighs and slid his hands up, under her skirt. Now came the moment that always was the hardest for Danielle when they started filming. More than all the dirty things she had to do in front of the camera, this was the moment that seemed the most terrible to her, and no matter how many times she’d done it, she still couldn’t get used to it.

Alex finished sliding his hands under her skirt to squeeze Danielle’s little ass, then lifted the fabric, revealing the underwear she was wearing that day. The camera zoomed in on a close-up of Danielle’s ass, showing white panties with pink trim. A piece of lingerie that seemed too innocent and out of place in a porn, but had been chosen precisely for that reason.

“I think we have a deal.” Alex drawled the words as he ran his hands over Danielle’s body, until he grabbed her ass and kneaded it. His hands almost completely covered the girl’s small, round buttocks.

Danielle shuddered as she felt her filming partner’s strong hands kneading her butt; she narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth slightly, taking care to always maintain a good angle for the camera filming her face. Of course, she’d been trained in that sort of thing when she became an idol, but keeping her composure when a man more than twice your age is grabbing your ass in front of a group of strangers, that was very different from a musical performance.

The good thing about filming that kind of porn was that there was no seduction; that real tension between the couple wasn’t necessary. It wasn’t that Danielle didn’t like that, but it made her job easier. To be honest, Danielle wasn’t that good of an actress, and jumping straight into the “action” helped her cope and distract herself from the fact that she was fucking a stranger in front of a group of strangers. Although, actually, by this point she already knew a few members of the film crew. One of them had even asked her for an autograph for his daughter, as stupid as it sounded, he’d asked her for it while Danielle was still naked and with her pussy full of cum.

Alex finally slipped his hand under the girl’s panties, kneading her soft flesh and sliding a finger down to the crack of her ass. The proximity to her private parts made Danielle let out a sigh. There it was, the inevitable moment when the charade ended and the sex began. Or at least the touching of private parts.

With one firm hand, the man gripped the girl’s buttock, and with the other, he rubbed her pussy through her panties. The cameraman crouched down to get a good shot of Danielle’s ass and the caresses Alex was giving her between her legs. There was another camera focused on the girl’s face, capturing every detail of her expressions.

Weeks ago, even before filming began, Danielle had decided that if she was going to do this, she was going to enjoy it. She couldn’t handle all the parts, of course, but at least she was going to get the most pleasure out of filming porn, out of having sex in ways she hadn’t even imagined in her wildest fantasies. So far, the experience with the first guy had been her favorite, but she had also discovered, to her own surprise, that she really liked having her face covered in thick, freshly ejaculated semen. On the other hand, what she’d liked the least was double penetration. She’d prepared herself with toys and massages on her ass, but even so, having two cocks stretching her holes at the same time was too much for her. Anyway, she didn’t complain that much and finished filming that movie like a true professional.

For this movie, they’d assured her that things would be calmer, at least for her ass, that she’d get a break from anal sex until next week, but not so for her mouth. Highlighted in fluorescent yellow in the script were the words “Deep Throat,” which made Danielle a little uncomfortable, but in reality, there was nothing she could do about it. This was one of the things the production company had insisted on, and under no circumstances could it be removed from the script. She just hoped it wouldn’t end up bothering her in the coming days as much as her anus had after the double penetration. At least she no longer had to worry about protecting her voice, since her singing career was over for good.

Alex’s fingers on her folds drew a soft moan from her. Danielle could feel the wetness from her pussy soaking through her panties, making the man’s fingers slide more easily, not that they really needed it, since Alex was not only twice her age but also nearly twenty centimeters taller than her, and of course much, much more muscular than Danielle. So his fingers were going to explore the girl’s private parts without any trouble anyway.

When Alex started pulling down her panties, Danielle shuddered. So far in this movie, she’d only had to show her ass and nothing else, but once her underwear was removed, her holes would be exposed. Without looking, she knew the camera was taking a close-up of her butt, not missing a single detail of how the man was spreading her butt cheeks and revealing the girl’s small, tight holes to everyone.

Danielle’s pussy was soaking wet, despite everything, she’d gotten wet, while her wrinkled anus stretched as Alex pulled her butt cheeks apart. She knew that just that one shot would be enough to drive her fans wild, that the screenshots and clips of her buttocks being spread and her holes stretched and exposed would flood the forums, that hundreds or perhaps thousands of fans would use them to pleasure themselves. But that helped her cope with the fact that she was now a porn actress, that she was performing those obscene acts in front of a group of people ready to capture it all on camera. The obscenity of her actions made her pussy get even wetter.

Fucking in front of the cameras and going further than any other idol had ever gone would allow her to be free at last. Pay off her debt, keep a few million, and disappear forever. Maybe in another ten years or so she’d start giving interviews again, charging a hefty fee for it, talking about how the industry had forced her into this as if she hadn’t chosen this path herself. It was true that she had been cornered, but it was also true that the sentence said nothing about paying off her debt in a single lump sum just a few months after losing the trial. Dani had chosen the easy way out but preferred to omit that detail.

The girl couldn’t keep her composure any longer when Alex shoved two fingers into her pussy. She put on her best face, closing her eyes and moaning so the cameras and microphones would capture it all. Just as her holes, her angelic face would sell tons of movies; that would probably be the most appealing part of it all. Jerking off while watching the former idol get fucked in different situations would be the greatest act of love/hate toward her. But at the end of the day, she’d still be a millionaire.

Despite having taken bigger and bigger cocks over the past few weeks, Danielle’s pussy still wasn’t quite used to being stretched like this. Alex’s thick fingers were filling her in a delicious way, making her feel full as her walls tightened around them. More moans escaped her, and she couldn’t help but move her hips to fuck herself. Alex laughed and said a few words to her that she wasn’t even interested in hearing. 

A few months ago, Dani would never have done something like voluntarily grinding on top of someone’s fingers while moaning freely. But now things had changed quite a bit for her, and feeling pleasure in these small acts was important; it was part of accepting her fate.

To tell the truth, Danielel felt like she was in heaven. With her eyes closed and practically riding Alex’s fingers, she could forget how many people were watching her and focus on the pleasure. Her manager had told her that if she performed well and the movies sold well, she might be able to negotiate a bonus and get a bigger cut of the profits. That thought alone made her pussy get even wetter, but having Alex unbutton her blouse with his free hand and squeeze her tits helped too.

Of course, Dani wasn’t wearing a bra, there was no point in putting one on, which meant that as soon as her blouse was opened, her small breasts were completely exposed. Alex sucked on one while roughly squeezing the other. Danielle clung to his head and moved her hips faster, bending her knees slightly so his fingers could penetrate a little deeper. None of that was in the script; that scene wasn’t supposed to go that way, but they’d been told that the actors could improvise a little, so apparently everything was going well. The fact that the director let them do it meant the shots were turning out well, that Danielle could keep masturbating with the man’s fingers.

To tell the truth, the director was happy with what he was filming. The image of Danielle with her panties halfway down her thighs, riding Alex’s fingers while he licked her tits, was too perfect for an amateur actress. The director knew this would make millions and that the company would be happy with his work. His only problem was that he only had four chances to film Danielle because the girl was showing signs of loosening up at an incredible speed. For the first movie, it had taken him a while to get good shots, but now she was taking the action into her own hands. If only they could sign her as a recurring talent, that would make them mountains of money.

Of course, the novelty and the morbid curiosity of seeing the former idol turned porn star would only last a couple of months. That would guarantee strong sales for just a few movies, but after that, the girl’s loyal fans and porn addicts would keep spending their money on her. Danielle was quickly learning how to fuck on camera, and her body was perfectly suited to what was currently in vogue in the industry. She could surely have a long and lucrative career as a porn actress if she wanted to, or at least a longer career than she had as an idol.

The girl’s pussy clenched tightly around the man’s fingers, making it clear that her orgasm was near. Alex, like the seasoned actor he was, didn’t pressure her; he simply let her do her thing. He just spread his fingers apart every now and then to make her moan louder while continuing to devour her small tits. It didn’t take long for Dani to come; soon her juices ran down the man’s wrist, soaking his hand, while the girl’s small body trembled with pleasure and her moans reached a peak in volume.

Once again, Alex spread her ass so the camera could focus on his fingers sliding out of the girl’s pussy along with a load of her fluids; he then brought those fingers up to her face, and Dani understood immediately. Staring straight into the camera, Danielle sucked on those fingers drenched in her own cunt juices as if she were sucking on a lollipop. As the camera filmed a close-up of her face, the director shouted, “Cut,” but the girl kept sucking for a few more seconds until she was sure she had left Alex’s fingers completely clean.

What followed was utterly embarrassing for Dani. Without the pleasure to distract her, she was acutely aware that she was exposing her private parts to everyone, that anyone could see her ass and tits without any effort. An assistant saw her blushing and rushed over to bring her a robe to cover up, while Alex had the decency to pull her panties back up. Danielle had to admit that despite his roughness the man was actually quite nice.

After that, they touched up her makeup, changed her hairstyle by putting her hair in two ponytails, and gave her a new pair of panties. An assistant took the used ones to clean them or throw them away; Dani just hoped they didn’t end up in an online auction as a collector’s item. The very idea made her shudder.

For the next scene, they had to move to the bedroom. That’s where Danielle would have to suck Alex’s cock and where they’d end up fucking. Nervousness began to take hold of the girl because she’d have to deep-throat him, and she wasn’t sure if she could manage it or not. The director had given her a dildo of considerable size to practice with, but she was sure Alex was even bigger than the toy. Well, he’d have to guide her this time, at least when it came to putting his cock in her mouth.

Although they gave her new panties, the director told Dani to leave her blouse open, so this scene began with her sitting on the edge of the bed with her breasts exposed, while Alex stood in front of her completely naked. Dani almost fainted when she realized that Alex’s penis was actually much bigger than the toy they’d given her. How she was going to get all of that deep down her throat was a mystery to her, but it would surely end with the man forcing his member inside her.

“Breathe through your nose,” Alex whispered as Danielle gripped his cock with a trembling hand. “If you need to take a break, tap my thigh three times.” The girl nodded, grateful for the advice and for the consideration her partner was showing her.

“All right,” the director shouted, taking his seat. “Let’s start with a simple blowjob and work our way up from there until you’re fucking her throat.” Danielle swallowed hard at those words. “If you can’t hold back and you cum in her mouth, please let me know.” That last part was for Alex. “The idea is that we can film them fucking today too, and I don’t want to resort to fake cum. Understood?”

Both actors nodded at the same time without saying a word. Alex’s cock, who was more than used to this, was already half-hard. Meanwhile, the girl’s mouth had gone dry, and she couldn’t shake her nerves.

“Relax. If I cum in your throat, you can just let it out; you don’t have to choke trying to swallow it all.” Those words did nothing to calm Danielle, but she didn’t have time to say anything. The director gave the go-ahead once more, and the sound of the clapperboard made the whole room fall silent.

Since Danielle had Alex’s cock in her hand, she decided to start by jerking him off a little, mainly to get him fully hard. She stuck out her tongue to rest the head of his cock on it while continuing to move her hand. With her other hand, she began touching her breasts, pulling her blouse aside so the camera could get a better shot of her chest. 

The next thing Dani did was pucker her lips to kiss the head of Alex’s cock and then start sucking gently without stopping the handjob. Danielle had watched a ton of movies to learn what she was supposed to do, and she was sure she’d more or less got the hang of all the important points.

Alex let out a soft sigh when Danielle gently grabbed his balls, weighing them in her hand, massaging them slowly as she took more and more of his cock into her mouth. Carefully, the girl swallowed as much of the member she was sucking as she could until she felt her mouth was full, then she pulled back, tilting her head back, and began giving a proper blowjob. She hollowed out her cheeks, sucking as she moved her head back and forth, never stopping to massage his balls and stroke him. 

Danielle’s hands were rather small, but even so, it was still impressive that she could barely wrap her fingers around the full circumference of Alex’s cock. She could only just place her thumb against the nail of her index finger, and that was it; at some points, she couldn’t even manage that. In addition to the thickness, there was the length, which was no slouch either. Without a doubt, Danielle could say that this was the biggest cock she’d ever seen in person, which made her grateful that she didn’t have to film any anal sex scenes this week.

Even when she hit the back of her throat, Dani had only taken in a little more than half of the shaft, so she still had a good portion left to swallow until she had it all inside, as the script demanded. But she hadn’t managed much more than that with the toy they’d given her, partly because it felt like nothing more than a lifeless piece of plastic. At least right now she felt more encouraged to try because she could feel Alex’s heat and throbbing against her palate. Her tongue became one with the soft skin of his cock, and the taste of his pre-cum stirred something indescribable within her.

Danielle pulled the cock all the way out of her mouth, rubbed the head against her lips as she’d seen other girls do in the videos she’d been studying, and finally took a breath to take the cock as deep as she could. First it pressed against her palate, and then it went further until it hit her uvula. The girl fought back the gag reflex as the glans made its way into places where she had never had a cock before.

She had to lean back to gain some momentum and try again. This time it was a little easier, but she choked on her own saliva due to her inexperience. The film crew had told her it was okay if saliva leaked out and made a mess, that it would actually be beneficial for the shoot, so Danielle didn’t worry when she pulled the cock out of her mouth and a stream of saliva came out with it. The saliva dripped down the side of her mouth, and she did nothing to wipe it away. Instead, she tried again.

This time, Danielle felt the head of his cock pressing against the muscles of her throat, pushing its way in relentlessly. She had no way to check, but she knew she’d already taken almost the entire cock into her mouth, which, for her, was a major accomplishment given the length of the piece of meat she was sucking. At least her nose was now very close to her partner’s muscular torso.

“Alex, let her catch her breath one more time and then fuck her mouth. We don’t have time for this.” The director’s voice cut through the sounds Danielle was making as she sucked.

The man grabbed her by the cheeks and pulled her away from his cock. “Now comes the hard part. Remember to breathe through your nose, and if you really need to, hit my thigh. Otherwise, I’m not going to stop. If I do, I’ll get in trouble with the director.”

“Okay, okay. Just give me a few seconds to catch my breath.” Danielle realized her voice was trembling because she knew what was coming; she’d seen it in the movies. Alex was going to hold her head and fuck her mouth without mercy. That’s what the script called for, and that’s what the man would do.

“On the count of three, I want that cock in her mouth.” Even though he didn’t need to raise his voice that much, the director kept yelling so everyone could hear him from where he was. “One, two, and three!”

Using her pigtails as handles, Alex gripped the girl’s head tightly. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth. Instantly, she felt the cock thrust deep inside her, all the way to the same spot she’d reached herself. He pulled back to gain momentum and rammed into her again with even more force. This time she really had to fight the urge to vomit as Alex forced his entire length down her small throat. Danielle’s nose pressed against the man’s abdomen as he held her head in place to keep her from moving.

Her nostrils flared wide, letting in as much air as they could; for Danielle, it was the only way to keep from passing out with that hunk of meat blocking her throat. Without letting go of her head, Alex began to move his hips, fucking her mouth, or rather, her throat, pushing his cock in and out with what seemed to be a complete disregard for the girl’s condition. That didn’t surprise Danielle; after all, Alex was someone hired to fuck her, not a lover who cared about her. How stupid she’d been to forget that, letting herself be swept away by the man’s kindness.

After a few moments that felt like an eternity to Dani, Alex pulled his cock out of her mouth. Saliva dripped down both sides of her face as air rushed in through her throat now that it was no longer blocked. Showing her a little consideration, Alex slapped her face a few times with his cock, leaving saliva stains everywhere. Then he grabbed her by the pigtails again, and before Danielle could take a deep enough breath, she found her face pressed once more against her co-star’s body.

Danielle’s vision blurred slightly, and her ears began to ring from the lack of air. She knew Alex was saying something to her, probably the lines he had to say to keep the story going, but she couldn’t make out his words. All she could feel was the cock thrusting into her throat over and over without stopping, and the air whistling in as the airtight seal her body created broke.

She was about to slap Alex on the thigh, but all she could do was grab his leg while he continued to abuse her throat. In the back of her mind, Danielle thought that double penetration didn’t seem so bad after all; at least it allowed her to keep breathing normally. Of course, her butt was sore for several days, but at least that didn't leave her on the verge of passing out from lack of air.

She had no idea how much time had passed, but she was aware that Alex hadn’t taken his cock out of her mouth again, and she was no longer able to signal him to stop. Her nose couldn’t provide her with all the oxygen she needed, so she was slowly losing track of the world around her. She could only feel Alex’s strong hands gripping her pigtails and his cock throbbing violently against her throat.

Just as Danielle was about to let go, when she could no longer even hold on to the man’s thigh, she felt a strong throbbing in her throat, followed by something bursting inside her. A warm, thick fluid filled her throat and ran down her esophagus as the cock withdrew. Air tried to enter, but the semen blocked it. Danielle coughed, spitting out a large load of saliva and semen that fell onto her torso, staining her exposed breasts. She could practically feel the semen dripping down the sides of her mouth as she regained consciousness.

It was like a stream of white fluid flowing from his mouth and covering most of her chest. Saliva and semen poured out in an unusual amount, staining everything they touched. Danielle wasn’t sure how much semen a man normally ejaculated when he came, but the load Alex had shot down her throat felt vastly excessive. 

Air deliciously filled the girl’s lungs as she took  deep breaths amid the coughing that sent droplets of semen flying everywhere. Blood began to oxygenate her brain again, and she stopped feeling the haze that had clouded her senses. Little by little, she became more aware that Alex had come in her throat and that she hadn’t been able to hold it all back.

Now Danielle was gasping, trying to breathe normally. She realized she had slipped off the bed and was now sitting on the floor, but her head was still resting on the bed. Her blouse was completely open, revealing her small breasts rising and falling with her ragged breathing, while a camera panned from her abdomen up to her face.

Danielle’s state was pure pornography. Her hair was tousled, her eyes half-closed and brimming with tears, while her mouth remained open, gulping down as much air as she could. Her face was covered with splatters of semen here and there, speckled with a bit of saliva. The semen was now slowly trickling down to the girl's abdomen, seeping into her navel as it continued its slow descent. The director was thrilled with what the cameras were capturing; he’d practically gotten a boner from the excitement of the great scene he’d managed to get.

They left Danielle right there for a while. After a considerable amount of time had passed, someone picked her up and laid her on the bed. They wiped her torso and most of the stains from her face before letting her rest a little longer. When she finally felt strong enough to move, she rolled onto her side before sitting up on the bed.

“Here.” The director handed her a bottle of water. “Can you keep going, or do you want to stop?” The girl snatched the bottle from his hands and drank it in one long gulp. “We also have vodka, in case that helps you recover faster,” he added before she could answer his question. Danielle didn’t think getting drunk on set was the best option for her, so she shook her head.

When she finally spoke, the girl noticed that her jaw hurt a little and her throat felt sore. Like when you wake up and feel like you’re coming down with a cold. “If I don’t have to suck another dick, I can keep going,” she said in a weak voice, handing the empty bottle to the director. Without her even asking, he handed her a new bottle, which she downed in one gulp too.

In a gesture that under different circumstances would have seemed paternal, the director squeezed Danielle’s shoulder and, giving her a smile, said, “I’ll ask them to have some ice cream ready for you when we finish filming. That’ll help.” He gave her another smile before adding, “Do you want a specific flavor?”

“Me-mint with pistachio,” the girl replied, having to cough to make her voice sound more normal. “Thanks,” she added under her breath, but the director had already turned away and was gesturing to an assistant to come over. The guy jotted something down in a notebook and then disappeared through the door.

“Where’s Alex? Danielle’s almost ready.” The director’s voice cut through the murmur that had taken over the set. Someone told him where he was, and he was sent to fetch the actor. A few minutes later, Alex appeared in the doorway, still naked and with a boner again.

The first thing the actor did was walk over to Danielle and crouch down to talk to her. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Since you didn’t tell me to stop, I got carried away.”

“Yeah,” Danielle replied half-heartedly. “It doesn’t matter, really.” Although she was actually a little upset, she knew Alex was right. He was just doing his job, and since she didn’t give him the signal, he didn’t see the need to stop. The fact that she was choking probably made her throat tighten even more around his cock, which ended with him not being able to resist it and filling her throat with cum.

“Okay, okay.” The director interrupted them before the actors could exchange any more words. “Danielle, we’re going to put some fake semen on your torso and face. I want to maintain continuity with what we’ve already filmed. Alex,” he said, addressing the actor this time, “you’re going to strip her completely naked except for the stockings, those stay on. “We’re going to start with Danielle lying on the edge of the bed. First, you’re going to fuck her in that position, and we’ll finish with her on all fours. Got it?” The director waited for both actors to confirm they understood before continuing. “Other than that, you can improvise, but please, Alex, don’t touch the girl’s throat. All right, everyone to your positions!! I want one camera always on her face, we can’t miss any of Danielle’s expressions!!” With a few energetic waves of his hands, the man got everyone to work.

Hurried along by an assistant, Danielle lay down on the edge of the bed and shuddered when the guy let a stream of fake cum drip onto her tits. She surprised herself thinking that she preferred real cum because it was warmer than the fake stuff they were putting on her. When the assistant was satisfied with his work, he stepped aside, clearing the way for Alex. The clapperboard made its characteristic sound, and the cameras started rolling again.

Alex grabbed Danielle by the waist and yanked her skirt off. Soon her sneakers and blouse met the same fate, discarded in a spot the cameras didn’t bother to film. The girl lifted and spread her legs with a mischievous smile. “Here’s your reward for helping me keep the secret. Daddy” She delivered her lines, trying to use a seductive tone as she rubbed her pussy, offering her crotch to her fictional stepfather. If it weren’t for the camera recording her face, Danielle would have rolled her eyes at the stupidity of the script. But this was porn; the plot didn’t need to be good. It just needed a girl hot enough to drive everyone wild. Today, that girl was Danielle.

“Her panties were ripped off her body with unusual force, leaving her practically naked. A cameraman moved in to get a close-up of her pussy, which made the girl blush in an almost silly way. That same cameraman had already filmed her getting fucked in both holes at the same time; there was no point in feeling embarrassed in front of him just for showing her wet glistening pussy.

The truth was that the cameraman was struggling not to get an erection; even though he was used to this, Danielle’s pussy was still perfect. Her thin pink lips revealed an opening that led deep into her womb, while her hooded clitoris crowned the girl’s delicate vulva. It was a perfect image; the girl’s pussy was practically made for porn with its spotless form.  It was impossible to see Danielle offering up her delicious cunt like that and not want to fuck her right then and there.

“Let’s see if your pussy feels as good as your throat,” Alex said mockingly, getting into character. The cameraman stepped aside so he could rub his cock against Danielle’s glistening lips. The girl shuddered, remembering the size of that cock, even though she knew it would be easier to take it in her pussy than down her throat. Still, it was a massive cock.

Under the watchful gaze of the cameras’ mechanical eye, Alex slowly penetrated Danielle. First he slid in the head, then with slow thrusts the rest of his length. Danielle opened her mouth in a silent moan because the man’s member was stretching her pussy like no one ever had before. It wasn’t painful; it just felt pleasurable in a different and new way.

The walls of her pussy were stretched just as her throat had been before, but they responded better. It took some effort, but Alex managed to get almost his entire cock into a pussy that seemed too small to accommodate it, but which was stretched to new limits. Danielle moaned this time, letting out those delicious sounds. Her angelic face contorted with pleasure. Alex began to fuck her, drawing out more moans and making her entire body tremble with his thrusts.

Truly, her pussy didn’t have as much trouble as her throat had accommodating Alex’s member. Although she did feel full and at the very verge of being ripped apart, for Danielle it was more pleasurable than having her mouth fucked. The ecstasy of the sexual act made her play with her own tits, small mounds crowned by nipples slightly darker than her pussy, which were almost as hard as the cock making its way inside her.

Never before in her life had she fucked as much as she had in the last few weeks, but nevertheless, Danielle continued to find pleasure in the new things she was experiencing. The way Alex was stretching her was driving her wild and made her forget that she had almost fainted because of him. Yes, that cock really did fit her pussy just too well. 

Looking at the camera with fire and lewdness in her eyes, Danielle arched her back. Alex grabbed one of her breasts and thrust into her harder, making their hips clap together as skin met skin. Danielle wiped some of the fake cum from her face and used those fingers to rub her clit. For a second, she forgot she was on a film set with a bunch of people around her and let herself be carried away by the pleasure of being stretched by such a massive piece of meat.

Without warning, the girl couldn't take it anymore and came. A gush of fluids escaped from her pussy, but Alex didn’t stop; he simply kept thrusting into her while she rode the wave of sexual ecstasy. After all, in porn, the girls’ orgasms didn’t matter, at least not in this kind of porn. Here, it all ended when the guy came. But Danielle had to cling tightly to the blanket to withstand the waves of pleasure coursing through her petite body, intensified by Alex’s relentless thrusts into her tight cunt. Her walls tightened around the cock inside her, creating an even tighter seal than the one her throat had created.

Still on cloud nine, Danielle suddenly felt her pussy go empty. A loud pop echoed through the room as Alex's thick cock slipped out of her, coated in a layer of fluids that made it glisten. She almost protested at the absence of the cock inside her, but was cut off by Alex’s strong hands, which grabbed her and moved her as if she were a doll. The man turned her around and placed her on the bed in the position the director had specified. With her chest resting on the mattress and her ass raised.

Danielle felt more exposed than during the first shots when Alex spread her buttocks. She was sure her pussy now looked wetter and more open than before; her lips had probably swollen from arousal, making her look even more delicious on camera. The fans who had loved her so much would probably faint at the sight of her like this, on all fours with her holes exposed, begging to be fucked like a whore.

The person who accepted that invitation was Alex, who shoved his cock into her pussy before Danielle could miss it any more. This time it slid in more easily; her walls were already getting used to Alex’s size, so they now stretched more readily, which didn’t mean they were clenching any less tightly. Quite the contrary, the girl’s hungry cunt was squeezing the actor, perhaps demanding a release like the one her throat had received.

But for that, she’d have to wait. For now, Alex pulled her hair, lifting Danielle up and forcing her to use her hands to support her weight. The girl’s tits weren’t big enough to hang freely, but the arch of her back made them stand out just the same. Danielle thought that maybe Hanni would be much better for that, but she quickly pushed the memories of her ex-coworker’s tits out of her mind. It was better to focus on other things, like the delicious rhythm Alex had found for fucking her.

In an awkward angle for making love, but not for fucking in front of the cameras when you’re shooting porn, Alex kept ramming the girl’s tight pussy. The camera didn’t miss a single detail of how the massive cock slid in and out of a hole that was clearly too small to accommodate such dimensions, yet still managed to swallow it all. The difference in size was almost comical, since Alex was much bigger and more muscular than Danielle. His body felt like a mountain looming over the petite girl, who was being impaled and stretched by Alex.

The wet, obscene sounds of her pussy being fucked relentlessly mingled with Danielle’s uncontrolled moans. That would probably end up making her throat hurt more, but that was irrelevant now because Alex had reached a new depth inside her. Right now, the girl felt her partner’s glans hitting her uterus, making her see stars. Or maybe it was just sweat and a bit of semen that had gotten into her eye. Whatever the case, Danielle was ecstatic anyway. 

Although she’d set out to enjoy the shoot as much as she could, after nearly fainting, she didn’t think she’d feel this way today. She’d planned to give the bare minimum to finish this movie and be done with it, but Alex was stretching her out and fucking her in ways she’d never experienced before. Her pussy felt full and tight at the same time, and he hadn’t even cum yet. Danielle drooled at the thought of how it would feel when his cock exploded inside her pussy. Despite everything, she’d liked feeling the warm cum flooding her throat, so imagining how it would feel to receive that same load almost directly into her womb made her walls throb in an almost sinister way.

Damn, you could tell Alex had experience filming porn because everything he did to her gave her pleasure. The way he pulled her hair, the way he said dirty and degrading things to her, half of which were his own improvisations, or the way he fucked her pussy without stopping. Everything felt wonderful to Danielle, who, even though she had come just a few minutes earlier, could feel the pleasure burning in her vulva and her abdomen beginning to contract again, threatening another orgasm.

“Daddy, please fuck me. Fill me with your cum.” The girl begged between moans, something she wasn’t supposed to do according to the script but that the director would surely appreciate anyway. Alex’s response was to fuck her harder, with greater intensity, until the girl rolled her eyes, not out of anger but out of pure pleasure.

Almost in unison, both actors reached climax once again. Alex’s cock exploded inside the girl, filling Danielle’s already tight pussy with the hot cum she’d been craving so much. She shuddered as he grunted, emptying his balls inside her pussy, shooting every last drop of cum. Danielle’s walls made sure to squeeze him tight as the most pornographic expressions she was capable of appeared on her face.

She kept her eyes tightly shut while her mouth was wide open, letting out moans that echoed all around. Danielle’s cheeks were red; the semen staining them wasn’t enough to soothe the burning sensation. The best part was that even if she wanted to, she wouldn’t be able to hide her face because Alex had her by the hair, right at the scalp, holding her head up. Letting the camera point straight at her face and capture every detail of the former idol’s expression.

A single shot of her face as she writhed in the pleasure of orgasm would probably have been worth a fortune a year ago, but now that she was just another porn actress, it would only serve to generate more interest in the movies she was filming, and to fuel the morbid fascination in an industry that had completely consumed her.

Carefully, Alex withdrew, making room once again for the cameraman to take a close-up of Danielle’s private parts. Her pussy had remained open as Alex’s cum dripped from her ravaged hole. A little higher up, her anus throbbed as if it were jealous of not receiving even a single lick. Air escaped from her pussy, causing the semen to bubble and making Danielle blush even though no one could see her, because when Alex let her go, she took the opportunity to hide her face between the sheets to try to preserve some dignity. A futile idea considering that these people had watched her get double-penetrated last week and, just a few minutes ago, had seen her nearly pass out while her throat was being fucked with no mercy at all.

But even so, exhausted and with a sore throat and pussy, her face covered in sweat and her hair a mess, Danielle thought that as an idol she’d had more demanding workdays. At least here they’d give her ice cream after filming without worrying she’d gain weight, and her partner was actually looking out for her. Certainly, the life of a porn actress, with all its pros and cons, seemed like an improvement over the life of an idol.

A/N: I think I suck at tagging.

A hand from the left glides forward. A finger taps the file. Images resolve in the air above the table; grainy security footage plays from a decade prior. The setting: a modest office in Nonhyeon-dong, a man with tired eyes hunched over a mixing board. Bang Si-hyuk. Founder and then CEO of Big Hit Entertainment, a company of quiet desperation and one ‘humble’ boy band.

"We planted the seed," the shadowy head says, distorted, but clear. "Capital flows were redirected. Certain regulators were persuaded to look elsewhere. Competitors found their strategies—suddenly unworkable. The underdog narrative was crafted and disseminated. We made the ground fertile for a single purpose: to cultivate a vessel of immense cultural influence. A Talent."

The presentation on the screen shifts to a meteoric graph. Global charts. Non-stop dominance. BTS. From Big Hit to HYBE, a colossus was born from foundations in the sand. "We gave five talents and expected ten in return,” it adds. “Not merely profit, but order. A harmonious control of the narrative stream."

A new hand moves. "The vessel cracked. The first manager, Bang Si-hyuk, forgot the source of his water. Greed, of the most mundane variety." 

The images now are financial disclosures, network maps of shell companies, of foreign properties bought under the company name. "He lied to investors. Promised no IPO while secretly plotting one. He and his inner circle siphoned hundreds of billions of won, betraying the very shareholders we placed as safeguards. The Korean authorities now circle him for stock manipulation, tax evasion. A crude, noisy failure. He turned our gift into a personal ransom."

A controlled hush circles the table. Disappointment—cold and absolute.

"The second manager," another interjects, higher, crisper. "Min Hee-jin. We carved out ADOR for her. After the legacy we established for her at SM, we gave her a blank canvas, a palette, and a living artwork: NewJeans." The image that now flashes is of five young women, all soft smiles and youthful ease, followed by an article of staggering revenue: 100 billion won in a year. "She was to be the enlightened steward, the Illuminated Minerval who understood that true power is the quiet shaping of perception. She, too, has failed. Spectacularly."

Evidence of her shortcomings unfold in the little light: internal audit reports from HYBE alleging a planned coup, Min’s furious press conference denial, leaked KakaoTalk messages where she dismissed her own artists as "immature kids,” among other sins.

"But her gravest sin," it continues, "is not ambition. It is negligence. She became a lightning rod. She engaged in a public war with the crumbling first manager, and in the crossfire, she left the artwork exposed. She forgot her primary mandate: custodianship of the asset."

The final proofs are the most damning. They are not financial charts or legal documents; they are a grainy video feed of the same women sitting in a hotel room, their faces drawn and vulnerable, each member’s eyes holding a weariness that belongs to people twice their age. Minji speaks to the camera steady but thin with strain: "If our message has been properly conveyed, we hope chairman Bang and HYBE will make a wise decision. All we want is this legal conflict to be resolved and have our working environment returned to normal.” Another clip shows a court document, a ruling that binds them to ADOR until 2029 against their will.

Five more years in a cage whose bars are made of legal injunctions and corporate spite.

Darkness takes over once again as the screen fades to black. For a moment, the room goes deathly silent.

"These are the instruments," says the head. Its distortion now reflects the anger bubbling within the organization, rearing its head against the perpetrators. "The ones we entrusted. They were given a vessel of our authority to cultivate influence, to shepherd a generation’s heart. They have buried it in the dirt of their own avarice and pride. One seeks to hoard the silver. The other, to claim the field for her own name. And the girls—” A gloved hand gestures to a picture of Hanni in court, mid-plea. "The Talents themselves are caught in the storm. They are called ‘immature kids’ by their mentor. They are legally shackled by their parents. They are pawns in a game whose rules they were never taught."

Another shadow speaks. "The public narrative is a cacophony. A coordinated smear campaign—Black Hat SEO, manufactured websites, character assassination traced to a PR firm HYBE acquired. It is messy. It is visible. It draws the wrong kinds of attention."

"This is the opposite of our vision," the head states, its finality in the tone sending little shivers down the spines of everyone in the room. "Luminary operates in the negative space. We correct the trajectory of presidents and pop charts from the quiet place behind the lens. This—spectacle—is an affront.”

A pause. No one dares to breathe.

“The parable is clear. The servant who buried his talent was cast into the outer darkness. We bestowed a great resource—not just a company, but a channel of global soft power. They have not multiplied it, but instead have actively corrupted it. They have wounded the innocent vessels through which that influence flows."

A decision coalesces, unspoken but understood by all. It is in the stillness of the gloved hands.

"Our justice is not of courts," the head remarks. "It is of restoration. Of balance. The mistakes will be rectified. Their arrogance, punished. Their hubris—shattered. The trust broken by Bang Si-hyuk, by Min Hee-jin, by the entire rotting edifice of HYBE that they have built upon our foundation—it demands more than a financial penalty. It demands complete erasure."

The quiet that follows with that singular word sucks in every thought in that room. The judgment is unanimous.

"The power we gave, we will take away. We will unwind the threads we wove. The regulatory probes into stock manipulation and tax evasion will find teeth they did not have before. The public sentiment, which we can guide with a word, will turn to ice. The creative pipeline will dry up. The chart placements will become—unreliable. We will return HYBE to the ashes from which we lifted it. A return to absolute darkness."

"And the girls?" asks a shadow.

"The artwork must be preserved. Their trauma is our failure.” Once more, the room goes eerily quiet, the shadows carrying the weight of an entire organization’s incompetence. This is their responsibility. Everything in their design is tailored to function to perfection; this is anything but. After a while, the room declares its sacred vow through the solitary voice: “We will extricate them. The legal contract binding them until 2029 will become void, a document lost to a judicial ‘reconsideration.’ Their brand, ‘NewJeans’ or ‘NJZ’—whatever they wish to call themselves in the future—will be theirs alone. They will be placed in a new trust, under a new, silent steward who understands that their light is to be curated, not owned. Their protection is now our direct mandate. Any who seek to use them again—be it a chairman, a CEO, or a media conglomerate—will find our response unequivocal."

The head pauses, letting the scope of the judgment settle. It adds:

"Min Hee-jin wished to be their protector but became a provocateur. She will be removed from the board, from the industry. She will be granted a comfortable cage of her own: a consultancy that consults no one, a label with no artists. Let her live with the ghost of her ambition. As for Bang—” From the darkness, its eyes fly wide open, reflecting a gaze demanding full attention and carrying absolute authority. “—his fall will be public. The authorities will have all the evidence they need. He will watch the empire we built for him crumble into dust and lawsuits. This is the price of burying a Talent."

The meeting concludes unceremoniously. No votes are taken. The will of Luminary is singular, absolute.

One by one, the shadows rise. They do not speak farewells or take bows. They simply step back from the blade of light and are absorbed into the void from which they came. The last to leave is the head, who places a single, ungloved fingertip upon the image of NewJeans, still hovering in the gloom.

“The nightmare is over. We are awake.”

As the final shadow disappears, the light winks out. The room ceases to exist. The invisible hand that controls the world has closed into a fist. —————

The air in the boardroom reeks of corporate anxiety and unconfessed crimes.

Your suit is the same shade of charcoal gray as every other mid-level strategist. Your lanyard bears a name that is not yours, filled in by a composite face composed of many forgettable features. The microphone embedded in the clasp of your leather portfolio is no larger than a grain of rice, and through the nearly invisible filament in your ear, a voice that is not human whispers static and assurances. You are the fly on the wall, the unblinking eye. And they are listening.

Across the table, the head architects of the year’s chaos are trying to assemble order from the wreckage.

CEO Park Jiwon—no, it’s Lee Jaesang now, you correct yourself, another reshuffled piece in a crumbling game—steeples his fingers. His face is a mask of practiced gravity, but you’ve studied the micro-tremors at the corner of his eye. Fear, barely disguised. “The quarterly report,” he begins before going quiet, and the words hang like an indictment. “It reflects external pressures.”

Chairman Bang does not give the reports a glance. He stares out the window at the Seoul skyline, an empire he built now slowly tearing at the cracks. His silence is more unnerving than any thunderous outburst. When he finally musters the will to speak, his tone reflects a life worn by too many storms. 

“External pressures,” he echoes, followed by a hollow laugh trapped between the words. “Is that what we’re calling it now? A self-inflicted wound from a dirty knife we handed out ourselves.”

Lee flinches, just barely. 

The evidence is damning: the ‘Weekly Music Industry Report,’ meant for executive eyes only, the one that dissected the industry with surgical, derogatory cruelty. Calling artists “shockingly unattractive,” downplaying rivals’ successes as flukes, laying bare a culture of cynical manipulation. It was a grenade that rolled out of a National Assembly audit and detonated in the public square. You remember the comment in your ear that day, cool and unsurprised: 

“A predictable lack of operational security. Note the panic,” it said.

“The apology was issued,” Lee says, defensive. “We took full responsibility. The employee was reassigned.”

“And the world moved on?” Bang turns away from the window, sweeping the cowed board members. “Did it? Or did it just file away another piece of evidence that we are a monopoly playing a rigged game? That we don’t just make music, we manufacture hate trains to clear the track?”

He’s talking about the whispers, the ones confirmed as more than rumor. The coordinated social media storms, for instance. Le sserafim, crucified online after Coachella, their comments sections turned into graveyards of threats so severe a minor member’s family had to intervene. aespa, their live singing skills dissected in that very internal report, the subsequent fan vitriol seeming a little too convenient, a little too neatly aligned with competitive interests. They had called it ‘market correction’ via public flogging.

“It’s not just external perception,” a brave director ventures. “It’s the rot within. The subsidiaries are at war.” He means ADOR. He means NewJeans.

The five girls, the brilliant, fragile engine of a billion-dollar dream, now the battleground for their future. The mission briefing had guided you through that saga like a museum curator pointing out failures: Min Hee-jin’s tearful press conference, her accusations that HYBE had greenlit a copycat group, ILLIT, built in NewJeans’ image. The girls themselves, in a desperate, deleted livestream, calling HYBE “inhumane,” pleading for Min’s reinstatement. Hanni, testifying before the National Assembly with tears in her eyes about the discrimination and mistreatment. And that’s only the tip of a titanic iceberg.

“They are children,” Bang remarks, but it sounds like a quote from a memo, not a conviction. “Influenced. Misled.”

“They are liabilities,” another board member counters. “The lawsuit proceeds. The company is fractured. The teams are fractured. It’s a stalemate written in legal briefs. And the public—the majority side with the children.”

The scout in your ear interjects, a soft counterpoint to the corporate bluster: “They see the product but not the machinery. They pity the bird in the cage but will still pay to hear it sing. A court has already bound the girls to ADOR until 2029. This is all just theatre and formalities. The cage has a legal lock. Our interest is in who holds the key.”

“And then,” Lee Jaesang adds, the weight of the year crushing his syllables, “there is the matter of the shareholders. The investigations.” He doesn’t look at Bang. Not a single soul in the room does.

The secret shareholder meetings. The whispers of stock manipulation, of financial maneuvers in the shadows to consolidate control during the ADOR crisis. A scandal not of artistry, but of finance. The kind that attracts regulators with subpoenas, not fans with lightsticks. This is the true core of the rot, the thing that could bring the empire down, not with a scream from fans, but with a quiet tap from a government auditor.

“We contain it,” Bang says, but the arrogance is brittle. “We always have. We control the narrative.”

“You control nothing,” the scout in your ear mumbles, just for you. “You are stewards of a resource you no longer understand. You were given a canvas and you have drawn ledgers on it. The parable of the talents is clear: bury the gift in the dirt of greed and negligence, and it will be taken from you. We are the auditors now.”

“For 2025,” Lee says, pulling the conversation to a shaky, future-facing stance. “We project stability. We focus on the groups that are unified. Seventeen, TWS, TXT, Enhypen, BoyNextDoor, Le sserafim, ILLIT, Katseye, &Team. We have a boy group debut in the pipeline too. BTS will complete their military enlistments as well. We weather this.”

“You weather a hurricane with plywood,” Bang mutters, but he’s looking at the financial projections again like a king counting his remaining gold.

The meeting dissolves into a sludge of numbers and damage-control platitudes. You’ve heard enough. The portrait is complete: a company gutted by internal war, bleeding public trust, led by men who are equal parts arrogant and terrified, fighting legal fires on a dozen fronts while the foundation smolders.

A new command slicks through your earpiece: “The boardroom diagnostics are concluded. Now the primary asset requires assessment. Proceed to secondary monitoring protocol: the subjects. NewJeans.”

The ones caught in the crossfire of all this, their futures used as bargaining chips for adults who see them as nothing but moving cash flow and glorified meat shields. Luminary had spoken of them not as assets, but as casualties. Your next task is to see the wounds firsthand.

Your pulse, which had been a steady, silent metronome throughout the entire meeting, gives a single, hard kick. 

At once, you gather your portfolio, casual and unhurried. You are a functionary, dismissed by the unspoken signal of a concluded agenda. Deferentially you nod to the indifferent room at large and turn toward the door.

It swings inward before you touch it.

Chairman Bang and CEO Lee are standing there, having apparently concluded a hushed, urgent sidebar in the hallway. They block the threshold. Bang’s eyes, weary and sharp, land on you. On your face, your lanyard, the portfolio held a little too close to your chest.

“You,” Bang remarks. Not a question. An identification.

The world shrinks to the space between the doorframes. The static in your ear has gone radio silent. Instinct tells you to freeze, to bolt, to reach for a weapon you do not carry or hold right now. You do none of these things. Rather, you transform into the man on the lanyard: slightly anxious, overworked, eager to please.

“Chairman. CEO,” you answer, dipping your head in a bow that is just a fraction deeper than necessary, the perfect picture of a mid-level employee startled by apex predators. “I was just retrieving the updated market sentiment analysis you requested for the Q4 pipeline.” You pat the portfolio, invoking a boring, plausible document.

Lee’s eyes glaze over almost immediately. Market analyses are someone else’s problem. But Bang’s gaze lingers. It’s the gaze that built an empire, that can spot a flicker of inauthenticity across a crowded audition room. It travels from your eyes to your hands, steady; to your shoes, polished but not expensive.

“I don’t recognize you,” Bang states. “Which department?”

“Strategic Planning, sir. Under Director Kim.” 

A real department, a real director, a name you’ve used a dozen times in the cafeteria. You gesture vaguely back into the boardroom, suggesting you were a note-taker, a cog. “I usually work on the fifteenth floor. I was sent here for the broader briefing.” 

Your head is pulsing; your heart is thumping. Never in your life have you wanted to turn your head or shift your gaze, but you don’t. You can’t. In your ear, the void is absolute. Luminary holds its breath, watching through your eyes. This is the test: not crumbling under direct pressure. 

Impatient, Lee shifts his weight. “The investors are waiting, Chairman.”

It’s the tiny crack in the door. Divided, Bang’s attention wavers for a millisecond. He gives you one last, dismissive once-over, finding nothing but the bland anxiety he expects from his staff. His turn shifts from you to Lee, letting the more pressing crisis win out.

“Fine.” Chairman Bang grunts, conceding to the bigger matter at hand. He and Lee move past you back into the boardroom, resuming their tense, low conversation.

You don’t exhale, not yet, but you don’t hurry either. Merging onto the hallway, every step feels measured and even. You walk past the elevators and take the stairwell, the echo of concrete a welcome contrast to the suffocating silence. Only after you are three flights down, with a fire door closed behind you, do you lean against the wall and breathe.

“Clean extraction,” it approves in your ear, a hint of what might be warmth in its digital timbre. “Subject assessment proceeds. They are fragile. They have been told they are products, not people. Your task is to observe. To see what they truly need.”

—————

You find her in a place you never expected: a small white church on a sun-bleached corner of Brisbane, Queensland.

The flight was long, and the instructions were clear and concise: Monitor. Observe. Do not engage. Luminary's mission logs had been your constant companion across the Pacific, through customs, into the rented house in Auchenflower with its view of the Brisbane River winding brown and lazy toward the bay. The address they gave you was a sanctuary, a place of quiet retreat. Danielle’s file was thicker than the others: youngest of the five, sixteen when it all began, now nineteen and carrying the weight of a high profile lawsuit on shoulders that still belong to a girl who should be worrying about exams and first loves instead of reputation and cyber attackers.

She went home, they said. Not Seoul; the dorms had been a month ago. Home. The family needed distance. Their legal team advised isolation. She attends services at St. Mary's, South Brisbane. You will maintain visual. You will not approach. You will not be seen.

For three days, you obeyed. You sat in the back pew, pretending to be a tourist seeking solace, a traveler with a well-worn Bible purchased from a secondhand shop in Paddington. You watched her from behind your hymnal, cataloging the architecture of her grief: the way she held her mother's hand during the prayers, the downward cast of her eyes during the homily, the careful, deliberate way she crossed herself, as if each motion was a petition, a plea, a desperate negotiation with a God who had allowed her to be sued by the very people who once tucked her into bed after music show wins.

But on the fourth day, something shifts. They have been quieter since you landed, reduced to nothing but a distant hum of surveillance and occasional check-ins. Status. Location. Any contact with the subject. You've reported each time: Negative. Visual only. Subject remains close with surrounding family.

This morning, you pick up the earpiece. Holding it in your palm, you think of the non-existent boardroom, the faceless superiors, the cold arithmetic of Luminary’s justice. You think of Danielle's face in the file photos: the bright, uncomplicated smile of a girl who hadn't yet learned that the adults she trusted would one day stand across a courtroom and demand their souls for the crime of wanting to be free.

You place the earpiece on the nightstand; you leave it there. The buzz from its microscopic speakers doesn’t register as you close the door to your bedroom.

Outside, the walk to St. Mary's is long, deliberate. The sun is high, bleaching the sky to a pale, indifferent blue. The streets are quiet and suburban, houses side by side with tin roofs and gardens bursting with bougainvillea. For once, you feel—normal.

You slip into the church just as the organ begins its prelude. The sanctuary is small, intimate, nothing like the cavernous cathedrals of Seoul. You take a seat near the back, your usual post. But your eyes are not on the altar or on the cross: they are on her.

Danielle sits three rows ahead, between her mother and a woman you recognize from the files as her grandmother. She wears a simple white dress, floral print, sleeves brushing her elbows. Her hair is longer now, falling past her shoulders in waves that catch the light. She looks smaller than the photographs suggest. Smaller and younger and infinitely more fragile.

She does not sing the opening hymn. Her lips move, but no sound comes. Her hands are clasped in her lap, knuckles white. Her mother's hand covers hers: a shield, a comfort. Danielle does not look up.

The priest ascends the pulpit. He is old, silver-haired, with the weathered kindness of a man who has buried parents and baptized grandchildren and never once questioned the goodness of a God who allows both. His text today is from the Book of Isaiah, chapter 43:2: When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you.

He speaks of floods. Of the rising waters that come to every life, the torrents that threaten to sweep away everything solid and familiar. He speaks of the young ones, the ones whose floods come too early, whose rivers rise before they've learned to swim.

You watch Danielle's shoulders, noting the subtle tension in the line of her back. She is listening. Everyone is paying close attention to every word spoken.

"But I want to tell you something today," the priest continues, his tone warm, unhurried, the cadence of a man who has learned that God speaks in silence as often as in words. "I want to tell you about a different kind of water. The water that does not overwhelm. The water that carries."

He opens a worn Bible, pages marked with ribbon: "The Book of Daniel. Chapter three. You know the story. Three young men. Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego. Children, really, by our standards. Thrown into a furnace because they would not bow. Because they would not worship the golden image that the king had set up."

Danielle's head lifts, just slightly. You see her mother gently squeeze her hand.

"The fire was seven times hotter than any fire before. The king made sure of it. He wanted to make an example. He wanted to show that defiance has a price, and that price is everything." The priest drops his tone, much more intimate, conspiratorial. "Sound familiar?"

A quiet murmur ripples through the congregation. You think of headlines, of court dates, of contracts that read like cages. Of a narrative that feels weighed against their favor.

"But here's what the king didn't understand," the priest continues, reinforcing his authority, filling the sanctuary, resonating in the rafters. "The fire was not the end. The fire was the setting. Because when he looked into that furnace, he didn't see three young men burning. He saw four men walking. Unbound. Unharmed. And the fourth looked like a son of the gods."

The assembly exhales. You feel it, a collective breath held and released.

"The fire was real," the priest adds. "The flames were hot. The king intended destruction. But the young men walked out without even the smell of smoke on their clothes. Not because the fire didn't touch them. Because they were never alone in it."

Danielle's hand moves to her chest, a small, unconscious gesture. You see her fingers curl into the fabric of her dress, clutching, holding on.

"And I want to tell you something else," the priest says. "Something the commentaries don't always mention. Those young men? They had been taken from their homes. From their families. From everything they knew. They were living in a foreign land, surrounded by people who worshipped different gods, spoke different languages, played by different rules. They were vulnerable. They were young. They had every reason to bow. Every reason to protect themselves. Every reason to compromise."

He pauses, letting the weight of every word settle.

"But they didn't. They stood. And because they stood, God stood with them. Not for them; with them. In the fire. In the furnace. In the moment of maximum heat."

You look at Danielle again. She is sobbing. Quietly, without sound, tears tracking down her cheeks and falling onto her clasped hands. Her mother's arm wraps around her and pulls her close. She leans into her embrace; at her core, she’s still a child seeking shelter from this unforgiving and cruel world.

"And that's what the Lord wants to tell you all today," the priest concludes, softening once more. "Whatever furnace you're walking through—and I know some of you are walking through fires that would terrify the strongest among us—you are not walking alone. The fourth man is there. The one who looks like the son of God. And when you come out the other side—when, not if—you will not even smell like smoke. Because the fire was never the end. The fire was merely the place where you learned that you were never alone. He will never leave you nor forsake you."

After the closing prayer and one final song of worship, the service concludes. The congregation rises, shuffles toward the doors in a river of quiet conversation and reflection. You should leave. Take the side entrance, disappear into the Brisbane afternoon, return to your rented house and your silent earpiece and the cold calculus of observation.

You don't.

Instead you find yourself standing idly in the aisle, blocking nothing, going nowhere. And then you see her, emerging from the crowd, her mother's hand still clasped in hers. Danielle's eyes are red-rimmed but dry now, her smile polite, automatic, the trained expression of an idol who learned too young that the world is always watching. A few members of the congregation find her to take selfies and sign albums; she happily obliges to every request.

After facing the commotion, as the gaps widen, she notices you. Of course she does. You are the stranger, the unfamiliar face in an assembly of regulars. Her gaze lingers for a moment, curious, assessing. Then she does something you don't expect.

She walks toward you.

"You're new," she says. Not a question. An observation, delivered in the soft, accented English of a girl who grew up between two different worlds.

"Just moved in," you say. The lie comes easily, automatically. "Near Auchenflower."

Danielle nods in immediate understanding. "It's nice here, isn’t it?” “A bit quiet, but yeah,” you answer, smiling lightly—something you’ll probably regret. A pause. Her eyes search your face, looking for something you can't name. "You came alone?"

It's a simple question, yet it feels oddly heavy to hear. Like unresolved ghosts of your past coming back to haunt you through her gaze.

"Just me," you say, playing it cool.

Something flickers in her expression. Recognition, maybe, or empathy. The particular kinship of the solitary.

"My name's Danielle," she says, and offers her hand.

You take it. Her grip is warm, surprisingly firm. Calloused in places, the residue of years of dance practice, of holding microphones, of grasping for something solid in a world that keeps shifting beneath her feet.

"I'm—" You almost say your real name. Almost. At the last second, you catch yourself. Mercifully, it goes completely unnoticed. "Mars," you say. It's not your name. It's close enough to the name on your rental agreement, the name on your fake passport, the name that exists in Luminary's files and nowhere else. "I'm Mars."

Danielle smiles. Not the dazzling, camera-ready smile from the music show broadcasts, the one that launched a thousand fan edits and magazine covers. It's smaller, more fragile, a tentative thing. But it reaches her eyes.

"That's different," she says. "I like it."

Her mother appears at her elbow, a gentle presence, watchful but not intrusive. Danielle glances at her, then back at you.

"Are you staying for the holidays?" she asks. "Christmas is next week. The church does a big thing. Food, fellowship, all that."

You hadn't thought that far ahead. Your instructions were clear: monitor, observe, do not engage. You've already broken every rule. One more surely won’t hurt.

"Probably just—around," you answer. "Nothing planned, really."

Danielle's mother says something softly, in Korean. She listens, nods, then turns back to you.

"We have a gathering," she says. "Small. Just family and a few friends. If you're—I mean, if you don't have anywhere to be—" She trails off, suddenly awkward, a teenager unsure of the protocol for inviting strangers to Christmas dinner. Clearly more used to having the holidays with members than actual family.

"We could use some company," she finishes. "Every now and then."

"I'd like that," you hear yourself say before it fully registers in your head. "Thank you."

Danielle's smile widens, just a fraction. "Great. I'll text you the address." She pauses to reach for the phone in her pocket. "I need your number."

You oblige. Not your real one, obviously—but a burner, one of several, but the number is real enough. She registers it into her phone with the focused concentration of someone who has learned to be careful, to verify, to trust slowly.

"See you around, Mars," she says. Then she’s swept away by her mother toward the church doors and the unforgiving sun.

As you’re left alone in the now empty sanctuary, the silence presses in. The stained glass casts its colored light across the pews, across your hands, across the space where Danielle met you just moments ago. It should have been a triumphant moment. You've made contact. You've established a bridge. This is intelligence gold, the kind of personal access Luminary would kill for.

Instead, it feels like you've just signed your own death warrant.

The shadows outside the church are long, the afternoon gradually sliding toward evening. You walk out slowly, deliberately, letting the suburban quiet settle around you. The streets are empty: families are gathered behind closed doors, preparing for the holiday week. You pass a house with a plastic nativity scene on the lawn, the infant Jesus gazing up at the Queensland sky with painted, unseeing eyes.

You're halfway down a side street when the hand closes on your arm and forcefully yanks you into an alley.

There’s no fight or struggle. You've been trained too well for that. You let yourself be pulled, let your body go limp, let the momentum carry you into the shadows between two garden walls. Your back hits a rough brick. And then you're staring into a face you recognize.

Another agent, one of yours. You've seen him before, in briefings, in the periphery of operations. He has no name that matters, no identity that survives contact with the real world. His eyes are flat, assessing, utterly without warmth. 

"The earpiece," he blurts. His tone is low and controlled, trained in a manner that has learned that volume is a tell. "Where is it?"

"At the house," you say. No lies. No point in hiding.

He stares at you for a prolonged moment. You can feel him cataloging you, filing away every micro-expression, every flicker of guilt or defiance.

"You removed it," he remarks. It’s part of the act, merely a formality. "You made contact with the subject. You gave her a number."

"I did."

"Those are direct violations of protocol. You know the consequences."

Consequences has many meanings in Luminary's lexicon. Not all of them involve death. Some lead to fates far worse.

"She invited me to Christmas," you admit, honest. "I have access now. Real access. The kind you can't get from the back of a church."

The agent's expression doesn't change. But something shifts in his posture, a minute relaxation of the predatory tension.

"The superiors will want to know," he implies. "Everything. Every word. Every glance. You're not a ghost anymore. You're an asset. And assets are watched."

He releases your arm without warning. Steps back. The shadows seem to swallow him, reclaiming their own.

"Keep the earpiece off," he warns. "For now. They'll want this to play out. But if you get attached—if you forget what you are—I'll be the one they send. And I won't be pulling you into an alley for a conversation."

Before you know it, he's gone. The space where he stood is empty, with nothing but kicked up brick dust and the distant sound of a lawnmower starting up.

You walk home through the gathering dusk, and you don't look back. But you feel them watching. You always will.

The earpiece sits idly on your nightstand, tiny, black and silent. You don't pick it up. Instead, you open your phone and stare at the new contact: Danielle. Her message is already there, an address in Hawthorne, a specified time, and a single emoji: a small, yellow heart.

You type back: See you there.

And somewhere in the shadows, Luminary watches. Luminary waits. Luminary calculates the cost of every choice you make.

The fire is real. The flames are hot. But you're not alone in it anymore. And that might be the most dangerous thing of all.

—————

The Marsh family’s house in Hawthorne sits on a quiet street where Christmas lights drip from every gutter and plastic reindeer graze on artificial lawns. You find it by the warmth spilling from its windows, the glow of a thousand tiny bulbs painting the driveway in shades of gold and amber. Danielle's mother greets you at the door with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. Her gaze is that of a vigilant woman who has learned that danger wears many faces, some of them appearing friendlier than others.

"Mars," she says, and the name still feels foreign to hear. "Come in. Danielle's in the kitchen."

The house smells of cinnamon and roasting meat, of pine needles and a particular sweetness of a home trying very hard to be normal. You follow the sound of quiet conversation through a living room decorated with stockings and tinsel, past a Christmas tree that leans slightly to the left, its ornaments a chaotic archive of family history: handmade clay figures from childhood, glossy K-pop merchandise, a single gold star perched precariously at the top.

Danielle stands at the kitchen island, arranging cookies on a plate. She wears an oversized sweater, red, with a reindeer embroidered on the front. Her hair is pulled back in a careless ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame her face. She looks up when you enter, and for a moment, just a moment, the practiced idol smile flickers before settling into something more genuine.

"Mars. You came." She wipes her hands on her jeans, a gesture so ordinary, so human, that you forget they’re just that—human. "Help me with these? Grandma thinks we need enough cookies to feed the entire neighborhood."

Naturally, you step beside her, reaching for a tray of sugar cookies shaped like stars and angels. In the process, your shoulder accidentally brushes against hers. It should go unnoticed. It’s a non-issue. Yet you feel the current: electric and dangerous.

The earpiece is in. Always has to. It’s part of the compromise you've made with the shadows that own you. You wear it beneath an unassuming beanie, completely aware of the tiny speaker pressed against your skull and the constant whisper of their surveillance. They have been quiet since the alley, but you know it's always listening. 

Proximity established, you think, and you hate reminding yourself about the larger mission at hand. Subject appears at ease. Continue monitoring.

But monitoring isn't what you're doing. Not really. 

Later that night, dinner is a sprawling affair in front of a table stretched to accommodate aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents. You're positioned beside Danielle in an arrangement that feels deliberate, though no one comments on it. She serves you rice, insists you try the kimchi her grandmother made, watches you eat with an attention that makes your skin warm. In the background, a cacophony of Korean and English, of laughter and arguments and the clatter of dishes fill the nearby surroundings. 

The conversation drifts toward the unspoken, as it always does in large families. You see it in the way voices lower when certain topics approach, in the glances exchanged across the table, in the careful, deliberate avoidance of anything that might crack the fragile veneer of normalcy.

But Danielle doesn't avoid them. She’s steered her way around these discussions over the past few months.

"So," she says, turning to you as the meal winds down, plates pushed aside for coffee and more cookies. "You're from—where did you say?"

"Originally?" You've rehearsed this facade. "Seoul. But I've been everywhere. Work keeps me moving."

"What kind of work?"

The question is innocent. Your answer is not.

"Consulting," you answer, blunt. "Corporate stuff. Boring, really."

Danielle nods, but her eyes linger on your face, searching for something deeper. "You don't seem boring."

Careful, it whispers in your ear. The subject is probing. Maintain cover.

"I'm very good at seeming," you say, and immediately regret it.

Danielle's smile flickers. "Aren't we all."

Soon enough, the table clears; the older generation migrates to the living room for television and quiet conversation. Danielle's mother catches your eye, gives you a long, assessing look, then follows. Now you and Danielle are left alone in the kitchen, the Christmas lights casting their colored glow across the counter, the floor, and her face.

"Let's go outside," she suggests. "I need air."

The backyard is small and fenced, with a single string of lights draped across a lemon tree. Danielle wraps her arms around herself, the night cool despite the Queensland summer. You’re standing beside her, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her skin, but far enough to pretend you're just being polite.

"I hate this time of year," she remarks, quietly. "I used to love it. Christmas. All of it. Now it just feels—"

She trails off. You wait.

"Like pretending," she finishes. "Like everyone's pretending everything's fine, and I'm supposed to pretend too, and if I stop pretending, if I just let myself feel what I actually feel, the whole thing falls apart."

Your earpiece goes radio silent. For once, blessedly silent.

"What do you actually feel?" you ask.

Danielle looks at you. In the dim light, her eyes appear dark, bottomless. "Tired. So fucking tired. Tired of fighting, tired of waiting, tired of being told to be patient, to trust the process, to let the adults handle it. The adults." She laughs; it sounds hollow and contemptuous. "The adults are the ones who did this. The adults are the ones who made it all so—impossible."

She's not pretending not to know. She's not pretending you're a stranger, a random newcomer to her grandmother's church. She's talking to you like you're the only person in the world who might understand.

"Danielle—" you start, but it never does.

"They don't tell you," she cuts in, rising, then catching, then falling to something smaller, more delicate. "When you debut, they don't tell you that the people who smile at you, who tuck you in at night, who tell you you're their daughter, their precious girl, their everything—they don't tell you that those same people will one day stand in a courtroom and say you owe them. That your voice, your face, your existence is a debt to be collected."

Her hands are trembling. You see it clearly: the fine tremor in her fingers where they grip her own arms.

"The lawsuits," you say, careful, neutral, trying to feign ignorance. "I've read—I mean, it's been in the news."

Danielle's laugh is sharper now, edged with something like hysteria. "The news. The news knows nothing. The news reports what they're fed. Do you know what it's like to wake up every day and wonder if today is the day they'll say something new about you? Something that isn't true? Something that makes strangers hate you for reasons you don't understand?"

She turns to face you fully, and the proximity is sudden, startling. You can count her eyelashes in the Christmas light.

"They called us immature. In those leaked messages. Said we were kids who didn't understand. And maybe that's true. Maybe we don't understand. Maybe we're too young to grasp the complexity of contracts and shareholders and all the ways adults turn people into property." Her voice cracks. "But I understand that I trusted them. I understand that I loved them. And they took that love and put a price tag on it and now they're trying to collect."

Subject displaying emotional distress, it mumbles in your ear. Document and report.

You want to rip the earpiece out. Throw it into the lemon tree, into the neighbor's yard, into the river. You don't.

"The system," you say, and you sound steadier than you feel, "is designed for them. The courts, the contracts, the media. It's all built to protect the people who built it."

Danielle nods, but she’s frustrated. "In Korea, it's worse. You know how many idols have tried to fight? How many have lost? How many have just—disappeared? Not physically. But from the industry. From everything. They fight, and they lose, and then they're gone. No music. No career. Nothing. Because the system doesn't forgive. It doesn't forget. It just crushes."

She's closer now. You don't know when she moved in, but she's close enough that you can feel the heat of her, the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

"And the worst part," she continues, "is that we can't even talk about it. We have NDAs. We have lawyers who tell us to keep quiet. We have parents who are scared, who just want us to be safe, who think silence is survival. So we smile. We keep quiet. We post nice things and memes on Instagram. We pretend that everything’s okay."

Her hand finds yours. Not a tentative thing, not the hesitant brush that precedes something more, but fingers intertwining, holding on with a desperation that makes your breath catch.

Luminary will be noting this, cataloging it, filing it away for future reference. Physical contact. Extended duration. Emotional valence: high.

Against your better judgment, you don't pull away. It lingers.

"Mars," calls Danielle, and she sounds softer now, more vulnerable than you've ever heard her: "I don't know why I'm telling you this. I don't know you. But when I saw you in church, when you sat there alone, I thought to myself, ‘Maybe he's like me. Maybe he's pretending too.’"

You squeeze her hand. It's involuntary, automatic, the response of a body that has stopped listening to orders and has begun following its heart.

"I am," you answer. "Pretending. All the time."

She nods. Her thumb traces circles on your skin, a subtle claim. A little spark.

"If there was a way," she whispers. "If there was a way to just—skip all of it. The courts. The lawyers. The waiting. If there was a way to make them pay for what they've done—not just to us, but to everyone. To all the idols they've used and thrown away. To all the kids who trusted them." Her eyes meet yours, both frightened and hopeful all at once. "Would you take it?"

The Christmas lights flicker, a bulb dying somewhere in the string. 

"I would," you say. And you mean it.

Danielle's smile is small. Fragile, but real. She doesn't let go of your hand. Minutes pass, maybe hours. The night deepens around you, the lemon tree casting its shadow across the grass. You stand together in the Christmas dark, holding on like the world might end.

When you finally leave, her mother walks you to the front door. Her gaze lingers on your face, searching for something, maybe finding it. She doesn't say a word, nor does she have to.

Outside, the streets are quiet, the darkened houses with guests tucked into beds, the brightly lit ones in familial conversation. You walk slowly, deliberately, letting the cool air wash over you. Your hand still tingles where Danielle held it. 

Your earpiece crackles to life.

Report.

You don't speak. You keep walking.

We have what we need. The subject's emotional state is optimal. Her trust in you is growing. Continue the engagement. Deepen the connection.

Your feet carry you forward, past the plastic reindeer, past the dark windows, past the lively neighborhood. Then the earpiece crackles:

There's something you should know. The timeline has accelerated. March. ComplexCon in Hong Kong. We're going to redebut them. NJZ. A new name, a new beginning, a declaration of defiance. They'll perform. The world will watch. And the system that tried to bury them will have to acknowledge that they're beyond its reach.

You stop walking. The streets are desolate. The stars are hidden behind clouds.

This is why we do what we do. This is the justice we promised. Not slow litigation. Not South Korea's broken courts, with their endless delays and their deference to power. This is the fire that doesn't burn. This is the fourth man in the furnace.

Your hand clenches at your side. You can still feel Danielle's fingers intertwined with yours.

But you need to be reminded: what's growing between you and the subject—we see it. We’ve always seen it. I know you know this better than anyone. We allowed contact because it serves the mission. Our mission. Her trust in you is a tool. Her vulnerability is leverage. If you forget that—if you let your personal interests override the greater good—we will intervene. Not with warnings. Not with alleys and conversations.

It pauses. So do your feet. When it resumes, it's softer, and somehow more terrifying:

We understand the temptation. She's young. She's beautiful. She's been through something that would break most people in her shoes. It's natural to want to protect her, to care for her, to imagine a world where you're just two people who met in a church and fell into something real. But that's not the world you live in. You live in our world. And in our world, the mission comes first. Always.

You start walking again. Your legs feel heavy, your chest tight.

Continue the engagement. Be what she needs you to be. But remember: you're not her guardian. You're not her friend. You're not her anything except what we need you to be. The greater good is bigger than both of you. Don't make us prove it.

The earpiece then falls silent, reduced to nothing but static.

You return to your rented house, the one in Auchenflower with the creaking floorboards and the view of the river. Climb the steps, unlock the door, fall back into hiding. The earpiece sits in your palm, small and observant.

You don't remove it. Can't. Not anymore.

But you remember Danielle's hand in yours, the desperate grip, the way she looked at you like you were the only solid thing in a world that kept shifting. You think of her question: Would you take it? And your answer: I would.

The greater good. The mission. The justice Luminary promises.

And somewhere beneath it all, a smaller, quieter thought lingers: 

What about her? What about me? What about us?

—————

You mark time passed in sunday services and coffee dates, in the careful choreography of proximity without intimacy, with a constant, low hum that never truly leaves your ear.

Danielle becomes a habit. Your habit. Sunday mornings at St. Mary's, seated beside her in the pew, her shoulder warm against yours during hymns and sermons. Wednesday afternoons at a café in West End, where she orders flat whites and picks at pastries she never finishes, talking about nothing and everything: her grandmother's garden, a book she's reading, how the other members are doing, all while you note the way the light hits the river at sunset. In return, you offer small crumbs of yourself, carefully fabricated, safely distant. You pretend you're just two people who met in a church and found something worth holding onto.

Luminary listens too. It's always observing through your eyes. Sometimes it gives notes back.

Engagement progressing as planned, is the report after each encounter. Subject continues to build trust. Continue current trajectory.

You don't admit that you've started looking forward to Wednesdays. That you catch yourself smiling when her name lights up your phone. That sometimes, in the space between one breath and the next, you forget there’s a mission at all.

You don't tell them because you can't. Because the words would betray something you're not ready to divulge. Because the moment you speak it aloud, it becomes real, and real things can be taken away. Not that it matters because Luminary already knows. That it’s always two steps ahead.

So you hold it close—this small, fragile thing—and you wait for the other shoe to drop. The shoe drops on Thursday.

Late afternoon, through a single line of text: > They're here. Come over?

You know what Danielle means before you ask. The girls who have been scattered across continents, nursing wounds in private, waiting for a moment that never comes.

The address is different this time. Not at her grandmother's, but rented, a safe house disguised as a vacation rental in the hills above Brisbane. You track it by following instructions: a winding road through eucalyptus and scrub, the city sprawl glittering far below.

Danielle meets you at the gate. She's nervous, you can tell, a tension in her shoulders that wasn't there at church, at the café, in the quiet moments you've come to treasure.

"They're excited to meet you," she starts. "I've told them about you. Maybe too much." A pause, a flicker of uncertainty. "Is that okay?"

You nod. The earpiece hums. Subjects entering observation. Document all interactions.

Inside, the house opens into a living room flooded with late afternoon light. Four faces turn toward you as you enter. Four pairs of eyes, assessing, curious, wary in ways that speak of too many cameras, too many strangers with personal agendas.

Minji rises first. She's taller than you expected, poised, her handshake firm and direct. "So you're Mars." A pause, then a slight fixed smile. "Dani's talked about you. A lot."

"Minji," you say. "I recognize you from—"

"From the news?" Her smile doesn't waver, but something behind it hardens. "Probably not the best introduction."

Hanni appears at Minji's shoulder, a dark-haired shadow with watchful eyes. She doesn't offer her hand, just studies you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. "You're the church guy."

"Among other things."

"What other things?"

Danielle shifts beside you, made uncomfortable by the awkward tension between you and her sisters. But Hanni's gaze doesn't waver, and you understand: this is the guardian, the one who checks for threats so the others don't have to.

"Nothing exciting," you insist. "Just someone who showed up at the right time."

Hanni holds your gaze a moment longer, then nods, almost imperceptibly. The assessment is filed. For now, you pass.

Haerin emerges from the kitchen, a mug in her hands, moving with the quiet grace of someone who's learned to take up as little space as possible. She offers a small smile, a soft greeting, then retreats to an armchair where she can observe without being observed. The catlike stillness the fans write about—it's real, you realize. Not a persona. Just Haerin being—herself.

And then there's Hyein. The youngest. She's curled on the couch, a blanket across her lap, a book abandoned beside her. When you meet her eyes, she gives a tiny wave, and you see it: the shadow of the child she was when this all began, the weight of years she shouldn't have had to carry.

"Hi," she greets, small but steady. "Dani says you're nice."

"I try."

"That's more than most,” she suggests, and no one disagrees.

They order food because none of them cook, because this is a vacation from reality, because for a few hours they can pretend they're just five girls having dinner with a friend. The conversation starts careful, circling, testing boundaries. But gradually, inevitably, it finds its rhythm.

"So what's the deal with you two?" Hanni asks, gesturing between you and Danielle with a spring roll. "Church friends? Or—?"

"We're just—" Danielle starts.

"Because if it's more," Hanni interrupts, ignoring her, "you should know there's a strict protocol. Idols aren't supposed to date. Technically we're still idols. Technically we're still bound by all the rules they wrote for us." She pops the spring roll into her mouth, chews thoughtfully. "Technically this is a violation."

Minji laughs. "Hanni. Leave him alone."

"I'm just saying. If we're violating protocols anyway, we might as well be thorough about it."

Danielle's face has gone pink. She won't look at you. You won't chance a glance back. But beneath the table, hidden from view, her hand finds yours and squeezes once, quick, before letting go.

The conversation shifts, as it must, to the months since everything fell apart. Minji and Hanni, inseparable as always, have been traveling—Japan, Thailand, England—places where no one recognizes them, or if they do, pretend not to. Haerin has been home, in her childhood bedroom, reading and drawing and trying to remember what silence feels like. Hyein attempted to return to school, to be a normal teenager for once in her life, but found that normalcy is a language she no longer speaks fluently.

"It's strange," Hyein says, picking at the edge of her sleeve. "Everyone keeps asking when we're coming back. When we'll perform again. As if we're just—on vacation. As if we chose this."

"You didn't choose it," you reply.

"No." She looks up, and for a moment she's not seventeen but something older: someone that's seen too much. "We chose to protect ourselves. There's a difference."

The table falls eerily quiet. Outside, the sun sinks toward the horizon, painting the room in shades of amber and rose.

Minji breaks the silence. Her tone has sharpened now, charged with something that resembles hope or fear, impossible to tell which.

"There's something we haven't told anyone. It hasn’t gone public yet." She looks at the others, a silent question. One by one, they nod. "We got an invitation. ComplexCon. Hong Kong. March."

You already know this. But you allow them to tell you anyway. Let them have their moment.

"They want us to perform," Minji continues. "Not as NewJeans. We can't use that name. Not yet. But as—something else. NJZ. A new name, a new beginning."

"We can't perform our old songs," Hanni adds. "The contracts are too messy, too many fingers in the pot. But we have one. An unreleased track. We recorded it before everything went sideways. It's ours. No one can take it."

Danielle's face glows with an emotion you haven't seen before. Not the careful composure of church, not the quiet vulnerability of your café conversations. Something brighter. Fiercer.

"We'd be performing," she says, "but not for them. Not under their rules. Just—us. Five girls on a stage, singing a song they can't touch."

The excitement is infectious. You feel it too: hope blooming in the space where caution should live. Risky and dangerous.

But you have to ask. You have to.

"What about the contract?" You keep yourself neutral, careful. "The legal battle. If you perform without permission, doesn't that give them grounds to—"

"To what?" Hanni is sharp, cutting it almost seems like an attack. "Sue us more? They're already doing that. They'll always be doing that. The question isn't whether they'll come after us. It's whether we'll let that stop us from living."

"We've been good girls," Minji adds, quieter. "We've followed the rules. We've trusted the process. We've waited for the adults to sort it out." Her jaw tightens. "The adults sorted it out by dragging us through courts and press conferences and months of silence. We can't wait anymore. We can't be shackled like this forever."

"The public knows," Hyein interjects. "They've seen it all. The leaked messages, the internal reports, the way they talked about us. The way they treated us. If we perform, if we stand on that stage and sing our song, the public will understand. They'll know we're not the ones breaking the rules. We're just the ones refusing to be broken by them."

You look at Danielle. She's observing you, waiting, as if your opinion matters. As if you're part of this now—whatever this is.

"What do you think?" she asks.

The earpiece hums. Confirm. This is our design. Let it ride. Do not interfere.

"I think," you suggest slowly, "that if you have a song that's yours, and a stage that's waiting, and people who want to hear it—you should sing it. The rest will work itself out."

Danielle's smile could light up the entire valley.

Hanni raises an eyebrow, resembling something like approval flickering across her face. Minji nods once. Haerin offers a small, genuine smile. Hyein pumps her fist in a burst of excitement.

"We're doing this," Minji remarks, in disbelief even as she repeats herself: "We're really doing this."

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of planning and laughter and the particular joy of watching five girls remember how to hope. They talk about the stages, the choreography, the moment they'll step into the light and reclaim their name. They argue about outfits and set lists and whether they should tease the song beforehand or let it be a surprise. For a few hours, they are just what they should have always been: young women on the edge of something extraordinary, unburdened by the weight of other people's greed.

As the night deepens, the others drift away: Hyein falling asleep on the couch, Haerin retreating to her room with a book, Minji and Hanni curled together on a window seat, watching the city lights below. You and Danielle end up on the porch, watching the stars emerging one by one above.

"Thank you," she mumbles, gazing upward. "For being here. For not treating us like—I don't know. Like a project. Like something broken that needs fixing."

"You're not broken."

"Aren't we?" She laughs, soft and sad. "Some days it feels like we're held together with tape and hope. But then I think about March. About standing on that stage with them, with my girls, singing something that's ours. And I think maybe the tape is enough. Maybe hope is enough."

You don't answer, for you know the truth. Because you know what's coming. Their stage is Luminary's design, the performance their personal theater, the justice they promise their own.

But standing here, under these stars, with this girl—you want to believe it could be different. You want to believe the hope is real.

"Mars." Danielle pulls you back. She's much closer now, enough that you can see the reflection of stars in her eyes. "Come with us. To Hong Kong."

"What?"

"To the show. You've never seen me perform. Not really. Not like that." Her pause shows a flicker of uncertainty. "I want you there."

The earpiece hums, completely unnoticed by anyone other than you. Accept. Presence at the event will allow continued observation. Do not deviate.

"I'll be there," you confirm, your little smile feeling hollow as you follow their command.

Danielle's smile is everything. She reaches up, presses a kiss to your cheek—quick, soft, over before you can process it—and disappears inside, leaving you alone with the stars and the terrible, growing knowledge that you're in too deep to ever get out.

The earpiece waits until you're in the car, driving down the winding road toward the city, before it speaks.

Everything has been set into motion. ComplexCon will be the announcement. NJZ will debut, the world will watch, and the system that tried to bury them will have to acknowledge that it failed. This is the justice we promised. This is the fire that doesn't consume.

You grip the wheel tighter.

Your role continues. Stay close to the subject. Maintain her trust. The mission is proceeding exactly as designed.

"And after?" The words escape your lips naturally. "After Hong Kong. After they perform. What happens to her? To them?"

A pause. Longer than normal. 

That is not your concern. Your concern is the mission. The greater good. The restoration of balance. The girls will have what they need. Protection. Resources. A path forward. That is enough.

"Is it?"

Another pause. When it answers, it's softer, but you recognize its familiar edge: the warning you've heard before, dressed in silk instead of steel.

We understand your attachment. We anticipated it. It's human. It's natural. But you must remember what you are. What she is to you. An asset. A subject. A piece of a larger design. The moment you forget that—the moment you prioritize your feelings over the mission—we will intervene. Not because we're cruel. Because we're necessary.

The car descends toward the river, toward your temporary residence, toward the life you've been living since December. The earpiece hums with emptiness and static.

And you drive on, into the dark, toward a future you can no longer predict and a choice you can no longer avoid. The mission continues. Their hope persists. And somewhere between them, caught in the space where duty and desire collide, you keep moving forward.

For now, that's enough.

For now.

—————

On the road to Hong Kong, you see Danielle less and less. The rhythm of your encounters shift from regular to sporadic, from predictable to precious. Sunday services become the only constant, and even those are different now. She arrives in dark glasses and caps pulled low, hair tucked away, now a stranger in the pews where you first saw her grieve. The blonde comes as a shock when you finally glimpse it—a flash beneath her hat, pale and luminous, a transformation hiding in plain sight.

"It's for the show," she tells you after one service as you walk to your cars. "Can't have anyone spoiling the surprise."

You simply nod, but the tightening in your chest tells you otherwise. She looks different. Not just the hair, but something beneath it. Lighter. More alive. The weight she carried in December hasn't vanished, but it's shifted, redistributed, made bearable by the promise of what's coming.

The texts still come often, but different too. In one instance:

> In the studio. Listen to this.

Followed by a voice memo: five girls harmonizing from a snippet of something new, something that makes your skin prickle with its sweetness and its underlying sorrow. Then another:

> Look what we found!

A photo: Haerin laughing behind a mixing board, Hyein draped across her shoulders, both of them young and unguarded in a way the cameras never capture. However, the last one hits the hardest:

> Missing you.

Just that. Two simple words on a screen that land like stones in still water, sending ripples through everything.

You always reply at the soonest possible instance. Your messages are light, careful, the right balance of warmth and distance. The scout doesn't comment, but its attention feels like suffocating pressure, a constant reminder that nothing you type is private, nothing you feel is truly yours.

Let it ride, they said. Do not interfere. Only interact when necessary.

But necessity is a flexible concept when your phone glows with her name at midnight. When she sends you videos from the set, the five of them clowning between takes, Minji attempting a handstand, Hanni photobombing with increasingly elaborate faces, Danielle catching the camera and blowing a kiss that lands somewhere in your chest and stays there.

We're happy, she texts one night, and you can hear the wonder in it, the disbelief. Actually happy. For the first time in so long.

You stare at the words until the screen dims and goes dark.

Good, you type back. You deserve it.

You mean it. That's the problem.

Luminary checks in daily now, not for reports but for confirmation: Status. Engagement level. Any deviation from expected behavior. You give the answers they want: Stable. On track. No deviation.

But at night, alone in your rented house with the river flowing past and the earpiece silent on your nightstand, you let yourself feel what you feel. The wanting. The fear. The desperate, foolish hope that maybe, somehow, this could end differently than all the stories tell you it will. —————

Hong Kong swallows you whole—neon and noise, humidity thick as blanket, the press of bodies in every direction. You move through it like a ghost, following instructions, checking into a hotel that Luminary arranged, waiting for the signal.

The performance is at night. The venue thrums with anticipation hours before, crowds gathering, lightsticks appearing like flowers after rain. Official ones—those that belong to a different era, a different name. But Binky Bongs, the fans call them, are proudly raised up high, a thousand points of light in the dark, a reminder of the name and legacy they themselves own.

You have a pass. You have a position. A clear view of the stage from the wings, a vantage point that belongs to no one and no one questions. Earpiece planted close, as usual, quiet as usual. Watching. Waiting. 

The lights go down. The crowd goes wild.

Then they're there. Five figures emerging from the dark, backlit and beautiful, and the sight of them stops your heart.

Of course—of fucking course—your eyes fall on Danielle first. She’s truly blonde now. The quirky caps and beanies have been abandoned, and in their place, her hair’s a pale cascade catching every light, falling past her shoulders in waves that seem to glow from within. She rocks black—they all do, each with variations on a theme—but on her it's different. Her silhouette is sharper than you remember, the lines of her body finding new definition in the stage lights, in the confidence of performance. She looks like a woman, not a girl. Like someone who has walked through fire and emerged completely unscathed.

Their set opens with a string of covers. Something familiar, something the crowd can hold onto. Songs that they’ve either practiced with during their trainee days or during those difficult times. Each of them moves their respective song with the precision of years, the instinct of bodies that have danced together since childhood. But there's something else beneath the choreography: a looseness, a joy, a freedom that no amount of rehearsals can manufacture.

You watch Danielle and see a stranger. Not in a bad way. But in a manner that makes you realize you've only ever seen fragments of her: the girl in church, the one at the café, the one who held your hand in the dark and asked if you'd take the fire with her. This is something else. This is the version of herself she was always meant to be, the one the world tried to cage and failed.

The covers end. The crowd buzzes, uncertain, waiting.

And then the first notes of something new. Something no one has heard before.

The title appears on the screens behind them, and the crowd erupts. The song is similar yet nothing like they've ever done before: a pulsing undercurrent, a house beat that shouldn't fit vocals this sweet but somehow does, the kind of track that makes bodies move before the minds catch up. And the lyrics speak of certainty, of knowing there's no other way but forward. Of being cut from a different fabric entirely. Of eyes on them until everything comes into view. Of a sun blazing and the feeling of waking up amazing. Of not being done yet, not even close.

It's not over, we're not there yetThere's no other way

When Danielle takes her line, she sings like she's telling a secret she's held too long—but the secret isn't sadness anymore. It's steel. It's the knowledge that she's molded from something different, something that can't be broken by courts or contracts or men in suits who think they own the light. 

I'm cut from a different fabric. Now I keep it moving, don't keep it static

The song finishes. And immediately, the screaming starts.

It's not just typical crowd applause. It's something else: a roar of recognition, of affirmation, of we see you and we believe you and we will never stop fighting. The Binky Bong ocean rises like a tide, a sea of light washing toward the stage. People are crying. People are holding each other. People are screaming names that aren't quite legal anymore but don't care.

On stage, the five of them stand in the light, breathing hard, faces wet.

Minji steps forward. Her voice cracks, just a little.

"We wanted to say—" She stops. Swallows. Starts again, but struggles. Emotions are starting to pour in. "We wanted to say thank you. For being here. For waiting. For not giving up on us when everything was so hard."

Hanni moves to her side and takes her hand. The other three cluster close, now a wall of five against the world, surrounded by people who truly love and appreciate them.

"We don't know what comes next," Hanni continues. "We really don't. The legal stuff, the contracts, the companies—it's all still there. It's all still complicated. But tonight, standing here, seeing all of you—" Like her member, her voice too, also breaks. She doesn't care. "Tonight, we're just us. Five girls who love to sing. Five girls who love performing for all of you."

Haerin speaks, quiet, but carrying heavily in the sudden hush. She’s the most ‘normal’ of the bunch—if you can even describe the scene unraveling on stage. "We're going to be on indefinite hiatus after this. We don't know for how long. We don't know what happens next. But we wanted you to know—we'll keep fighting. For us. For you. For the music."

Hyein is crying openly now, tears streaming down cheeks. "We just want to perform," she echoes, and the words are almost too quiet to truly hear. "We just want to make you happy. That's all we ever wanted."

Danielle steps forward. The last one to speak, the light catches her hair, her face, the tears she doesn’t try to hide.

"We love you," she concludes. "We love you so much. And no matter what happens, no matter who tries to stop us, that will never change."

The roar that follows shakes the building. It’s absolute pandemonium. Chants of ‘NewJeans never die’ and ‘NewJeans don’t be blue’ ring violently against your ears, threatening to blow the roof off the place.

Even Luminary has nothing to say. You watch them bow, watch them wave, watch them disappear into the darkness backstage, and you feel something you can't name. Something too large for words.

Immediately, you follow them backstage, slipping through a maze of corridors and security, the pass around your neck opening doors, your face familiar enough to wave through. The noise of the crowd follows you in the background, now a distant roar, the sound of thousands of people refusing to let go even as the next act takes their place on stage.

Danielle is leaning against a wall, completely by her lonesome, her chest heaving, her face poured with sweat, her eyes slammed shut. She looks like she's run a marathon, climbed a mountain, and crossed an ocean all at once.

When she opens her eyes, they immediately find you. The space between you instantly disappears.

Before you can think, before you can remember the earpiece, the mission, the consequences, she’s already found solace in your arms. Her body presses against yours, warm and shaking and alive. Lifting her face to yours—

Without hesitation, her lips find your mouth.

The kiss is not careful. It's not tentative. It's not any of the things you told yourself this would be. It's desperate and hungry and full of everything she couldn't say on that stage, everything you couldn't admit in those quiet months in Brisbane. It's a claim and a surrender all at once.

When you finally break apart, gasping, she laughs. A sound of pure, uncomplicated joy that you've never heard from her before.

"Did you see?" she asks, still riding off that euphoric high. "Did you see them? Did you see the lights?"

"I saw.” 

"Mars." She says your name it’s the most important person in the room. "That was everything. That was—I can't even—"

She kisses you again, softer this time. When she pulls back, her eyes search your face.

"Are you okay?" you ask. The question feels ridiculous. Inadequate.

Danielle's smile flickers, just for a moment. "I don't know," she admits. "I don't know if we'll be okay. I don't know what happens tomorrow. Or next week. Or next year. But right now—" She gestures at the chaos around them, the crew moving equipment, the other girls being swallowed by well-wishers and a skeleton crew of a staff, punctuated by the distant roar of a crowd that won't stop screaming their names. "Right now, I'm happy. Is that enough?"

You don't respond with words. Rather you kiss her again, and it's more than enough of an answer.

As the night spirals on, photos are taken, people are thanked, messages are sent out—a thousand small obligations that come with a performance like this. Patiently waiting, watching from the edges, Danielle moves through it all with a grace that feels both natural and rehearsed at the same time. The other girls catch your eye occasionally, exchanging knowing looks between them. Minji gives you a thumbs up that makes you laugh. Hanni's gaze lingers, but it’s softer now than it was in Brisbane.

After hours, finally, finally, it's over. The crowds disperse. Danielle finds you in the emptying corridor. She takes your hand and doesn't let go.

"Your hotel?" she suggests. Less of an invitation and more a final destination.

"Close enough."

She nods. "Mine's too public. Too many people know which floor." Her grip on your hand tightens. "Take me with you."

Hand in hand, you disappear through the Hong Kong night, inconspicuous among the crowds that still throng the streets near the venue. No one looks twice, nor does a soul recognize the sparkly blonde girl in the cap, the one who just commanded a stage of thousands. You're just two people, walking, holding on.

The hotel room is small, impersonal, a temporary space for a temporary life. Danielle stands in the center of it, looking around, and you see her taking it in: the neutral walls, the generic art, the suitcase in the corner that holds everything you own.

"This is where you live?" she asks.

"For now."

She turns to you. In the low light, her face is all shadows and softness, the blonde hair a pale halo.

"Mars." Fuck. Your name again, always your name, always spoken with that weight and that killer accent. It’s its own drug. "What are we doing?"

You've asked it yourself a hundred times, in the dark of your rented house, in the quiet between texts, in the moments when your earpiece goes silent and you're left with only your own thoughts.

"I don't know," you admit. Honest, for once. "I don't know what this is. I don't know what I am to you, or you to me. I don't know if we're a mistake or the only right thing I've ever done."

She steps closer. "Me neither."

"Dani—"

"Don't say another word." She puts a finger to your lips. "Don't explain. Don't apologize. Don't tell me all the reasons this is complicated. I know them. I've lived them. For once, just—be here. With me. No explanations. No futures. Just now."

Instinctually, you reach up and remove the earpiece.

It feels smaller in your palm, lighter than it has any right to be. For months, it's been your tether, your leash, your connection to a world that owns you. But now it's just plastic and metal, a thing you can put down, a thing you can leave behind.

You place it on the nightstand. The red light that's always glowing, always watching, goes pitch black.

Danielle watches you, questions in her eyes. She doesn't ask. Maybe she doesn't want to know. Maybe she's learned, as you have, that some truths are too heavy to carry.

You take her hand. Lead her toward the bedroom. The door clicks shut behind her and the world outside ceases to exist.

Danielle's back meets the wall with a soft thud, the sound swallowed by her mouth on yours, by the desperate press of her body against your chest. Her hands are everywhere—your shoulders, your neck, fisting in your hair with an urgency that borders on desperate. You match her energy, meet it, your palms sliding down her sides, feeling the heat of her through the thin fabric of her top.

"Mars," she gasps against your mouth. Just your name. Just that. It's enough.

Your fingers find the hem of her crop top, breaking the kiss just long enough to lift and pull it over her head. It joins the floor, forgotten. Her skirt is next, giving way to your impatient hands, sliding down her hips to pool at her feet. She steps out of it without looking, without caring, her eyes never leaving yours.

The stockings are a complication you didn't anticipate. Sheer black, rising past her knees, held in place by something you can't see and don't care to find. You kneel—actually kneel, a supplicant at her altar—and roll them down her legs, one after the other, your lips following the path your hands clear. Her skin is warm, soft, trembling under your mouth.

When you rise, she's down to her underwear. A matching set, black lace, the kind of thing you never imagined her wearing because you never let yourself imagine this at all.

You don't ask permission. Your fingers hook into the waistband of her panties and you pull, and the fabric tears—a small, satisfying rip—and they're gone, discarded, irrelevant.

Danielle laughs, breathless. "Those were—"

"Not anymore."

She's pressed against the wall again, your body caging hers. One of your thighs slides between her legs. Soaking, alarmingly wet. You can feel it through your pants, the slick heat of her against your thigh, and the knowledge of it sends blood roaring through your veins.

You can't get your clothes off fast enough—belt unbuckled one-handed, pants shoved down, coat shrugged off and abandoned. Your shirt goes last, buttons flying somewhere, neither of you caring. She kisses you like she's drowning. Like you're oxygen. Her tongue in your mouth, her teeth on your lip, her nails raking down your back through the fabric of your shirt.

"Fuck me," she mutters. Not a question. Not a plea. A demand.

Your hands grip her thighs, lift, and she wraps around you automatically, toned, slender legs locking at your back, arms around your neck. The wall carries the brunt of her weight, but you're holding her too, your now erect cock pressing against her, finding resistance, finding heat.

You push inside her in one slow, brutal thrust.

The sound she makes is nothing like the polished vocals from the stage. It's raw and broken and beautiful, a gasp torn from somewhere deep. Her head falls back against the wall, eyes closing, mouth open. You give her a moment—one moment—to adjust, to breathe.

"Move," she says. And you do.

It starts slow, deep, each thrust pressing her harder against the wall, lifting her, filling her. Her legs tighten around you, pulling you deeper. Her nails dig into your shoulders. Her breath comes in short, sharp gasps that match the cadence of your hips.

"Harder," she grunts out, lolling her head, exposing the nook of her neck.

And on point, the wall trembles with each impact. Your name naturally falls from her lips like a prayer and a curse, like you’re the only thing she remembers. She's loud—louder than you expected, louder than the thin hotel walls should allow. You don't tell her to be quiet. You don't want her to be quiet. You want to hear every sound she makes, every gasp and moan and broken syllable. Fuck, everyone should know just how fucking good she has it.

Her hips start moving too, meeting your thrusts halfway, finding a rhythm that belongs to both of you. The angle shifts, and she gasps, and you know you've found something—some place inside her that makes her grip tighten, makes her cries go higher.

"Don't stop," she begs. "Don't stop don't stop don't—"

You have no intention to.

This is beyond choice now, beyond decision. This is two bodies moving together, two people who've spent months circling each other finally colliding.

Her orgasm takes her by surprise.

One moment she's moving with you, meeting you thrust for thrust. The next she's shuddering, clenching, her whole body going rigid as she cries out—not words, just sound, just the raw expression of something too big for language. Her nails leave marks on your shoulders. Her legs lock so tight you can barely move.

You don't stop moving. You can't. You're too close, too far gone, too deep in this with her. The feeling of her coming apart around you pushes you toward your own edge, and you meet it with your teeth gritted and your forehead pressed against her now reddened neck, marked and memorialized with your brand. 

"I'm—" 

"Yes," she cuts in, aware of the inevitable. "Inside me. Now."

You come undone.

It rolls through you in waves, each pulse of release drawing another shudder from her, another gasp. You're still buried inside her, still pressed against the wall, still holding her weight with arms that tremble from exertion and aftermath. The world narrows to this: her warmth around you, her breath on your face, the slow, dizzying return to something like reality.

Minutes pass. Or seconds. Time has abandoned its usual obligations. Eventually your arms remember they have limits, and you carry her—still wrapped around you, still inside her—to the edge of the bed. You lower her gently, reluctantly, and when you finally slip out of her, she makes a small sound of loss that echoes something in your chest.

"Are you—"

"I'm on the pill." Danielle answers before you even finish, breathless, frantic. All to satiate your rush. "I'm safe. It's safe."

You nod. You kiss her. It's softer now. Slower.

"I need you again," she mumbles against your mouth.

Lifting her from the walls, you lay her out on the bed like an offering. She's beautiful in the low light—all pale skin and blonde hair spread across the pillows, chest rising and falling, eyes dark with wanting. The centerpiece of your bedroom. You don't climb on top of her, not yet. Instead, you settle between her legs.

Her gasp when your mouth finds her is sharper than before, more surprised. She's sensitive; you can feel it in the way her thighs tense, in how her hips try to lift away and press closer at the same time. You hold her down with hands on her hips and you devour her, slow and thorough, learning with your tongue.

She's sweet. She's salt. She's everything.

Danielle’s fingers tangle in your hair, not pulling, just holding. Her breathing quickens, her hips start moving in small, unconscious circles. You find a rhythm that makes her gasp, that makes her moan your name, that makes her forget whatever careful walls she's spent months building.

"God," she breathes. "Fuck, I'm—I'm close, I'm—"

You keep the same steady, relentless pace, bringing her toward the edge and keeping her there, suspended, until she falls apart again.

When she comes this time, it's quieter. Deeper. A long, shuddering release that seems to go on and on, her body arching off the bed, her hands gripping your hair hard enough to hurt. You don't stop until she pushes you away, oversensitive, trembling.

You crawl up her body, leaving a trail of kisses as you go. Higher, higher, your mouth tracing a path up her thigh, across her hip. Her stomach dips under your lips, each ridge of muscle, each soft plane. Your tongue finds her navel, circles it, moves on.

Her breasts are small, perfect, fitting in your palms like they were made for them. You squeeze gently, watching her face, watching her eyes flutter shut. Your mouth finds one nipple, then the other, and she sighs, a soft contented sound that's almost as intimate as everything that came before.

Eventually, you're face to face.

The space between you is merely inches. You can feel her breath on your lips, can count her eyelashes in the dim light. Her eyes are open now, watching you with an expression you can't quite read—hope and fear and something else, something that makes your chest ache.

"I love you," says Danielle, airy, but genuine.

Three small words. Three impossible words.

You’re hesitating. The mission, the consequences. You should remember who you are and what you are and all the reasons this can't end well.

Instead, you say: "I love you too." Her smile could power the whole city. She pulls you down into a kiss, deep and slow and full of everything you've both been holding back. Her arms wrap around you, holding you close, and you let yourself be held.

Outside, Hong Kong hums with its endless energy, and somewhere in the shadows, Luminary watches and waits and plans. But for now, in this room, there's just the two of you. Just this. Just now.

Danielle falls asleep first, her head on your chest, her breath evening out into the slow rhythm of rest. You lie awake, staring at the ceiling, her weight a comfort and a complication.

The earpiece is still on the nightstand. The red light is still dark.

But tonight, she loves you. And you love her.

For now, that's enough. —————

The morning comes, and you wish it stayed like this forever: Danielle is draped across your chest like she belongs there, like she's always meant to be, her blonde hair spilling across your skin in a cascade of pale silk. One leg is hooked over yours, her arm curled beneath her, her face turned toward the hollow of your throat. She breathes in slow, steady rhythms, each exhale a small warm ghost against your collarbone.

You lie there in the half-dark and try to memorize every detail: the weight of her, the curve of her spine beneath the sheet, the tiny mole behind her ear you never noticed before, the way her fingers twitch occasionally, dreaming of something you'll never know.

Last night was not a mistake.

You've told yourself that a hundred times since the first gray light began seeping through the curtains. Not a lapse in judgment. Not a failure of mission protocol. It was a choice. For once, you chose yourself over the greater good. A conscious, deliberate, utterly irreversible choice to be something other than what Luminary made you. 

The earpiece sits idly on the nightstand. You haven't touched it since you placed it there. You haven't wanted to.

Danielle stirs. A small sound, a shift of weight. Her eyes open, unfocused for a moment, and then they find yours. She smiles.

Not the stage smile or for cameras, the one she's been trained to produce on command. It's something smaller and larger all at once. Private, intimate. Just for you.

"Hey," she whispers.

"Hey."

Her hand finds your face, traces the line of your jaw, your cheekbone, the corner of your mouth. "You're still here."

"I'm still here,” you quietly confirm. 

"I was afraid you'd be gone." Danielle exhales. "I was afraid last night was a dream."

You turn your head, kiss her palm. "Not a dream. It was all real."

She shifts, settling more fully against you, her cheek returning to its place above your heart. "Good. Because I don't regret it. Any of it."

"Me neither."

"I mean it. I know this is complicated. I know there are a million reasons this shouldn't work. But last night—" She lifts her head, meeting your eyes. "Last night was the first time in years I felt like myself. Not an idol. Not a product. Not a lawsuit waiting to happen. Just me. And you made that possible."

Your throat tightens. Instead, you pull her closer, like she’ll disappear anytime, and she goes willingly, fitting against you like the missing piece of something you didn't know was broken.

For a little while, there's only this: two bodies, one bed, the quiet miracle of being alive together.

Then the knock comes.

It's not loud. Three sharp raps, businesslike, unhurried. The kind of knock that expects an answer.

Your body goes cold before your mind catches up. Every instinct you've spent years training snaps to attention. Danielle feels it, the sudden tension in your frame, and her head lifts, eyes questioning.

"Don't move," you hush. "Don't make a sound."

You slide out from under her, and the loss of her warmth immediately feels terrible. Your legs carry you to the door on autopilot, the years of muscle memory taking over. Through the peephole, the fisheye lens distorts the corridor into something surreal, dreamlike.

Three figures stand outside. The one in front you recognize immediately: the agent from the alley in Brisbane, the one with flat eyes and flat monotone accent and the promise that if you forgot what you were, he'd be the one they'd send. And he's holding your earpiece.

He doesn't wave it. Doesn't gesture. Just holds it up, between thumb and forefinger as the biggest damning proof of evidence. Behind him, two others wait, their faces blank, bodies poised for violence.

Your heart stops. Starts again. Keeps going because it has no choice.

No words are necessary. None would matter. The consequences are here, wearing suits and carrying your sin in their hands.

"Babe?" Danielle echoes from the bedroom, soft and blissfully uncertain. "What is it?"

You turn from the door. She's standing in the bedroom doorway, wrapped in a sheet, her blonde hair tousled, her face caught between sleep and waking and the first stirrings of fear. She looks so young. So vulnerable. So completely unaware of what's waiting on the other side of that door.

You have seconds. Maybe less.

"Danielle." You remain steady; you don't know how. "I need to tell you something. And you're not going to understand. You're probably not going to believe me. But I need you to listen. Can you do that?"

Her face changes. The sleepiness fades, replaced by something sharper and wary. "What's going on?"

"I'm not who you think I am."

She blinks. She doesn’t know what’s going on or what’s about to happen.

"I'm not just some guy who showed up at your church. I was sent there. By people. An organization." You're talking a little too fast; the words come tumbling out, but there's no time, no time for grace or careful explanation. "They sent me to watch you. To monitor you and the others. To report back on everything you did, everything you said. That's what I was. That's what I am."

Danielle stares at you. Her face is unreadable, a mask you can't penetrate.

"Last night," she says, airy, quiet. "Was that—"

"Real." You return to Danielle and take her hands. They're cold. "Last night was real. Everything I felt, everything I said—that was me. Not them. Not the mission. Me."

"You lied to me."

"I did." No defense. No excuse. No sugarcoating. "From the moment we met. Every word, every story—it was constructed. Carefully. To make sure you trust me."

She pulls her hands away. Steps back. The sheet is clutched to her chest like armor.

"Why are you telling me this now?"

The knock comes again. Louder this time. More insistent. Like they’re threatening to burst in within the next five minutes.

"Because they're here," you confess. "The people I work for. They're outside that door. And they know."

"Know what?"

"That I broke the rules." You gesture at the room, at the bed, at the space between you that still holds the warmth of the night. "That I chose you over them. That I took off the earpiece. That I—" Suddenly, the words die in your mouth. Swallow your throat. "That I fell in love with you."

You didn't plan to say it. It simply spilled out naturally, pulled from somewhere so deep you didn't know it existed. The truth.

Danielle's eyes widen. Her lips part. For a moment, just a moment, the fear is replaced by something else. 

"You love me?"

"I love you." Every word feels like a confession, like an indictment against yourself. "And I don't regret last night. Not once. Not for a second. But I need you to know—whatever happens next, whatever they do—I need you to know that you were never just a mission to me. You were never just an assignment. You became— everything."

Another knock. Harder. The agent accompanies it now, muffled through the wood: "Open the door. Now."

Danielle looks at the door, then back at you. Her face is pale, but her chin is set. The defiance you saw on stage last night, the steel underneath the softness—it's there.

"Do you regret it?" you ask. The question is selfish, desperate, but you can't help it. "Me. Us. Any of it."

She crosses to you in two steps. Her hands cup your face, force you to meet her eyes.

"I don't regret you," she answers. "I don't regret last night. I don't regret any moment I spent with you." A pause. Her voice cracks, just a little. "But I'm scared, Mars. I'm so scared."

"Me too, Dani." You press your forehead against hers. "Me too."

The door shudders. They've stopped knocking.

"I have to open it," you say. "If I don't, they'll break it down. And if they break it down, they'll be angry. And when they're angry—" You don't finish. Don't have to. You’ve seen it firsthand. Now it’s coming for you.

Danielle nods. Steps back. Wraps the sheet tighter.

You walk to the door. Your hand finds the handle. Pausing, you turn back to her one last time.

"Whatever happens, stay behind me. Don't fight them. Don't run. They're faster than you think, and they won't hurt you if you don't give them a reason. I made them promise—" 

You stop. There were no promises made. You just have to hope. Pray for mercy.

Slowly, you open the door.

The agent from Brisbane stands there, your earpiece still in his hand. Behind him, the two others are larger than they looked through the peephole, their suits doing nothing to hide the coiled violence beneath.

"Mars." The agent's judgment is flat, empty of emotion. "You know why we're here."

"I do."

"The earpiece." He holds it up. "Removed. Disabled. A direct violation of protocol."

"Yes."

"Fraternization with a subject. Emotional attachment. Personal involvement." Each word is its own accusation. "All violations. All documented. All witnessed."

"Yes."

The agent's eyes flick past you to Danielle, standing frozen in the bedroom doorway. His expression doesn't change.

"The subject will also be debriefed."

"No." The word escapes your lips before you can stop it. "She didn't know. She didn't choose this. Whatever rules I broke, she's innocent. She stays."

The agent regards you with something that might be pity, if pity could look so cold. "You're in no position to negotiate."

"I'm not negotiating." You step forward, positioning yourself between him and Danielle. "I'm surrendering. Willingly. No resistance. But she comes with me voluntarily, or not at all. And if you try to take her by force, I'll make enough noise that this entire hotel wakes up. Cameras will come out. Phones will record. And even your technology can't delete everything if there's enough of it."

It's a bluff. A thin one. You both know it.

But something flickers in the agent's eyes. Respect, maybe. Or amusement at the futility of the ruse.

"Fine," he says. "She comes willingly. No excessive force. But she comes."

You turn to Danielle. She's moved closer, standing just behind you now, still wrapped in the sheet. Her face is pale, but her eyes are dry.

"Danielle." You keep yourself low, calm despite the overwhelming situation. "These people—they're not going to hurt you. Not if you cooperate. They're going to take us somewhere. Ask questions. Make decisions. I don't know how long it will take or what will happen after. But I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

She looks at you for a while. Then at the agents, their blank faces, their waiting silence. Then back at you. "I trust you.”

It's not an answer to your question. It's something larger. Something that makes your chest ache.

"I need to get dressed," she tells the agents. Against all these imposing forces, she’s steadfast. Impressive, really, given the circumstances. "You're going to have to wait."

The agent nods in agreement, once. "Two minutes."

Danielle quickly disappears into the bedroom. You hear her moving, the rustle of fabric, the soft thump of a drawer closing. The agents wait in silence. You’re waiting with them, your heart beating wildly every second, expecting some kind of breach, imagining some way they’ll cross the line and break their promise.

She emerges dressed in your clothes: jeans, sweater, and a shirt you’d planned to give on her birthday. Her hair is pulled back, her face composed. She comes to stand beside you, takes your hand.

"Together," she says.

The lead agent gestures. "Walk. Slowly. Toward the service elevator. No sudden movements."

You’re escorted out the hotel room, led by the lead agent, his two subordinates flanked behind you and Danielle.

The corridor is empty, the kind of calculated emptiness that speaks of intervention: floors cleared, cameras redirected, witnesses erased. This is Luminary's domain now; the hotel is merely a stage for their operation.

The service elevator opens before you reach it. Inside, two more agents wait, their faces as blank as the rest. You step in. Danielle matches every beat, every step you take.

The descent is silent. No one dares to speak. Danielle's hand grips yours so tightly your fingers go numb. You don't let go.

Exiting, The elevator opens onto a loading bay, empty of workers or staff, completely devoid of life. Three black SUVs wait, engines running, tinted windows absorbing the gray morning light. As you approach, you see figures in the back of the nearest vehicle. Still idle and slumped in their seats.

Your heart stops.

Through the heavily bulletproof glass, you make out shapes. Four of them looking small, curled close against each other.

"No," Danielle erupts. She lets go of your hand, and presses against the window. "No, no, no—"

Minji. Hanni. Haerin. Hyein.

They're there, all of them, unconscious but breathing, their faces slack, their bodies arranged like sleeping children. In the other SUVs, you see more shapes—other agents, other captives, other pieces of Luminary's design.

"You took them," Danielle grits out. She turns on the agent from Brisbane, and for a moment she's not a frightened girl but something fiercer, someone that has survived too much to break now. "You took all of them."

"The operation was simultaneous," the agent remarks, as if explaining a scheduling decision. "All subjects secured. All assets contained."

"Assets." Danielle's anger seeps through her tone. "Is that what we are to you? Assets?"

The agent doesn't answer. He has no obligation to do so.

A door opens behind you. Hands grip your arms. You don't resist. You've promised not to. But as they guide you toward the second SUV, you turn back to Danielle one last time.

"I'm sorry," you mutter, shaking your head. "I'm so sorry."

She looks at you through the glass, her face wet with tears she didn't let you see fall. But she's not looking at you with hatred. She's not looking at you with the face of a woman betrayed and heartbroken.

She's looking at you like you're still hers.

"Together," she mouths, quietly and quickly, before other hands pull you away, and the door closes, and she's gone from your sight.

Inside the SUV, there are no formalities. The agent immediately goes to work. A needle presses against your neck. Swift, cold, sharp.  The world around you begins to swim.

Your last thought before the dark consumes you is of her. Of blonde hair and a quiet smile. Of a hand in yours in a Brisbane backyard. Of a kiss in the Hong Kong night that meant everything.

You don't regret it. Not once. Not ever.

Then the darkness swallows you whole.

In the loading bay, the black SUVs pull away one by one, silent and smooth. The hotel continues its morning routine, guests oblivious, staff unaware. The service elevator returns to its regular duties. The loading bay doors close.

On every camera within a mile radius, the footage shows nothing. Empty corridors. Empty streets. Empty everything.

Luminary's proprietary technology doesn't delete; it simply never records the event in the first place.

By the time anyone thinks to wonder where the girls have gone, where the five who set the stage on fire last night have disappeared to, there will be nothing to find. No evidence. No trail. No witnesses. Only remnants of a bittersweet farewell and an indefinite hiatus to follow.

What’s left is just a mystery. Just a question. A void where something bright used to be.

—————

You wake to whiteness.

Not a gradual return of consciousness, but the slow swim from darkness to light. One moment there's nothing, the next, your eyes are open and you're staring at a ceiling that has no texture, no imperfection, no end. Just white. Infinite and absolute. This is not the heaven you’ve imagined.

You're sitting in a chair. You don't remember being seated. Anything after the needle is a blank page. Yet here you are, upright, awake, alive.

The room is a box. Six surfaces of seamless blinding abyss, without corners, without joints where wall meets floor meets ceiling. It's like being held inside an egg. A single table extends from the wall in front of you—no, not from the wall, it's simply there, your typical table from IKEA, and on it sits a cup of coffee. Steam rises from the cup, freshly brewed. 

They know when you'd wake. They know everything.

You don't touch the coffee. In fact, you don't move at all. You stay seated in the chair, molded to your body in ways that suggest they've measured you down to the millimeter—and you wait.

Suddenly, the blank wall parts at the center. A window emerges. Maybe it was always there. It's transparent, a pane of glass looking onto—nothing. A room beyond, equally white, equally empty. You can't see anyone. But you know they're there. One, a dozen, hundreds, even thousands. You can feel them watching, the weight of countless unseen eyes.

You speak. It sounds strange in the whiteness, swallowed, absorbed.

"Are they okay?"

Silence.

"Danielle. The others. Are they hurt?" 

The speakers in the room—you assume there are speakers, though you see nothing—remain silent. Examining the window shows only emptiness. But you’re aware you're being heard. You know they're deciding how to respond.

"Please." The word costs you. "Just tell me if they're okay."

For a while, nothing. Then, a voice. Not from the speakers. It’s all around you. From the walls themselves, from the air, from inside your own skull. Flat, distorted, cold.

"You will answer questions first."

You close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Open them again.

"Ask."

"Describe your actions on the night of March 23rd. In detail. Beginning from the moment you left the venue."

They want the performance. They want the backstage reunion. They want the walk through Hong Kong, the hotel room, the night that still burns in your memory.

You reveal everything.

About finding Danielle against the wall, her face wet, her eyes finding yours. The kiss, the way she felt in your arms, the laughter that followed. Talk through the city, hand in hand, the moment you both felt anonymous and free. You tell them about the hotel room, the way she looked standing in the center of it, the question she asked: What are we doing?

You tell them about the earpiece. How you reached up and removed it. That you placed it on the nightstand. How the red light went dark.

You tell them about the bedroom. About her. About you. Every act including the ones that left you unconscious for hours.

You don’t waver. You don't soften the details. Each sentence is like a confession in a church that has no God, to an audience you can't see, offering up the most intimate moments of your life as data points for their cold accounting.

When you finish, they don’t respond for a while. They let every word you’ve spoken breathe, and with it, the gravity of each admission feels heavier, then suddenly:

"How do you characterize your feelings for the subject designated Danielle?"

"I love her."

The words are simple. True. It comes naturally, like second nature.

"The subject is an asset. A piece of a larger design. Love is not a variable we account for."

"I know."

"And yet you chose to pursue it."

"I didn't choose anything." You lean forward, your hands finding the edge of the table. The coffee sits completely untouched. "It happened. Despite every protocol, every warning, every consequence I knew was coming. It just—happened."

"Sentiment is a weakness."

"Maybe." You meet the empty window, the unseen watchers behind it. "But it's also the only thing that made me feel alive in years. So if that's weakness, fine. I'm weak."

The room goes quiet, longer than before. Then the voice returns, and there's something different in it. Not warmth—never warmth. But a kind of acknowledgment, a recognition of critical data received and filed.

"Your assessment will be considered. Remain."

The window goes white. The room seals itself. You're left alone.

You don't know how long you sit there. Minutes, hours, days. The room has no time, no rhythm, no change. The coffee cools. You don't drink it. You stay in that chair with Danielle constantly on your mind, about the way she looked at you before the door opened, about the word she mouthed through the glass: Together.

You hold onto that. You hold onto her. It’s the only thing keeping you sane. —————

Time passes. Or it doesn't. You can't really tell.

The window doesn't reappear. Nothing speaks. You're fed at specific intervals. Trays are thrust in through a slot you never noticed. The meals taste bland but nourishing, and water is poured into disposable plastic cups. You eat because you have to. You sleep because your body demands it. You wait because there's nothing else to do.

One day, without warning, the wall opens.

Not a door. The wall simply parts, a seam appearing where no seam existed, sliding back to reveal a corridor of the same impossible white. Three figures stand there. The agent from Brisbane is in front. Behind him, two new subordinates, larger and imposing, their faces equally blank.

"Stand," the agent commands.

You stand. Your legs are steady. You've been waiting for this.

The two men cross, gesturing for you to lift your hands. Handcuffs close around your wrists—not metal, something else, lighter but unbreakable. They don't speak. They’re not obligated to. You're theirs again, a piece returned to the board.

Then they lead you out.

The corridor stretches endlessly, white on white on white, doors every few meters, all identical, all sealed. Other agents pass occasionally, nod to your escorts, and ignore you completely. You're nothing here. A specimen. A problem to be solved.

You try to count steps, turns, landmarks, but ultimately find it useless. The place is a maze designed to defeat memory and pattern recognition. Every corridor looks identical, every junction leads to more of the same. Luminary's anonymous bases are structured like this. Unregistered, undocumented, undecipherable. One of countless, you assume, scattered across the globe like seeds planted in concrete.

After what feels like miles, you reach a door that looks like all the others but isn't. Your escorts pause. The Brisbane agent presses his palm to the surface. Something scans, accepts, and opens.

They lead you inside.

The room is dark. Not the white you've grown accustomed to, but genuine darkness, the kind that presses against your eyes and makes you doubt they're open. You're guided forward, hands on your arms, footsteps echoing in a space that feels vast and empty.

A chair. You're shoved into it. The handcuffs are removed. The hands withdraw. Footsteps retreat. A door closes.

Here you are again: darkness and silence, all alone again. So you wait. You're getting good at waiting.

Moments later, a little light comes on.

You're in a boardroom. Not the white of your cell, but something older: a wood-paneled long table stretching before you lined with figures in shadow. High-backed chairs, twelve of them, each occupied by a silhouette you can't quite see. At the head of the table, an empty chair. Behind it, a screen.

The Ascendants. Tier 4. The ones who shape Luminary's will into action. 

No one speaks or dares to breathe. Not a soul one moves, even a muscle. The screen flickers to life.

You see yourself. Not quite—more specifically, the casual outfit from that fateful night.

Footage, grainy in quality but clear, from a perspective you recognize: your own. The camera—there was a camera, in your button, your collar, somewhere you never noticed—captured everything. The walk through Hong Kong. The hotel room. Danielle standing in the doorway. The moment you reached up and removed the earpiece.

The footage plays in silence. You watch yourself commit every violation, cross every line. You watch Danielle's face, open and trusting. You watch the bed, the darkness that followed, the night that changed everything.

When it ends, the screen goes dark. The silence in the room is absolute.

A voice speaks. Not from within the table—from the screen, from the empty chair, from everywhere at once. It ripples through the room with certain, absolute authority.

"You were given a mission. Simple. Clear. Monitor the subjects. Report their activities. Maintain distance." It pauses. "You failed. Spectacularly."

"I know."

"Do you understand the magnitude of that failure? The subjects are not merely individuals. They are assets. Investments. The culmination of years of planning and resource allocation. Their trajectory was carefully designed. Their redemption arc, meticulously calibrated. ComplexCon was to be the first act of a larger narrative—a story of triumph over adversity, of innocence vindicated, of justice served through the court of public opinion."

You've heard this before, in variations. The parable of the talents. The arithmetic of influence.

"Your involvement introduced an uncontrolled variable. Emotional attachment. Personal investment. These things compromise judgment. They create unpredictable outcomes. They threaten the integrity of the entire operation."

"The operation," you repeat, subtly mocking. "Is that what you call it?"

"It is what it is."

"And the girls? Danielle? The others? Are they part of the operation, or are they just—pieces? Assets to be moved around your board?"

It goes quiet for a moment, before answering, unchanged:  "The subjects are being processed."

Your blood goes cold. "Processed? What does that mean?"

The screen flickers to life once more. New footage appears.

Five rooms. Five chairs. Five familiar girls.

Minji sits in the first, her head tilted, eyes unfocused. A thin metal band circles her temples, wires trailing to a complicated machine beside her. She doesn't move. Doesn't blink. Just sits, breathing slowly, evenly, like a doll waiting for its strings to be pulled.

Hanni in the second, wearing the same band, with the same stillness etched on her face. Her watchful eyes look empty now, staring at nothing.

Haerin. Curled in her chair, smaller than you've ever seen her, the band looking obscene against her delicate temples. Her lips move occasionally, forming words that don't quite translate to anything comprehensible.

Hyein. The youngest. Tears on her cheeks, still wet, but her face is slack, uncomprehending. Whatever they're doing to her, she's past fighting it.

And Danielle.

She's in the fifth room, the fifth chair, the fifth band. Her blonde hair is tangled, her face pale, but her eyes—her eyes are open. Aware. She's looking at something you can't see, someone in the room with her, and her expression is not fear or pain but something worse: understanding. Acceptance. The look of someone who knows exactly what's happening and can't do a thing to stop it.

"What are you doing to them?" Your voice, when you find it, is not your own. It comes from somewhere deeper, somewhere defensive.

"Correction," it answers. "The subjects' emotional states were becoming unstable. Unpredictable. The trauma of the past year, the legal battles, the public scrutiny—these things created vulnerabilities. Attachments formed that could not be permitted to continue."

"Attachments." Suddenly you’ve risen on your feet; no one else moves a muscle. "You mean me. You mean what we had."

"We mean any variable that compromises the subjects' utility. Your presence was a variable. Your relationship was a variable. Both have been—addressed."

"Addressed." It sounds—wrong, no matter which way it’s spun. “You're lobotomizing them."

"A crude term. We are refining their emotional responses. Removing the trauma responses that would otherwise hinder their future function. They will emerge healthier. More stable. Better able to fulfill their role."

"Their role." You're shaking now, trembling with rage your body can barely contain. "Their role as what? Puppets? Products? Tools for your 'greater good'?"

"They are artists. They will continue to create. To perform. To inspire. The difference is that they will do so without the burden of the pain you and others have caused them. They will be free."

"Free." You laugh. It's not pleasant in the slightest. "You're stripping them of everything that makes them who they are, and you call that freedom?"

"We are preserving what matters. Their talent. Their voices. Their ability to connect with audiences. The rest—the fear, the grief, the anger, the love—those are impediments. They will not miss them."

You look at Danielle on the screen. Her eyes are still open, still aware, still her—for now. But even as you watch, something shifts in her expression. A softening. A fading. Like a light dimming behind a window.

Your anger turns to desperation. The kind that will take anything to save that they hold dear. “Please. Don't. She's done nothing wrong. They've done nothing wrong. They're just kids who trusted the wrong people."

"Their trust is not the issue. Their utility is. And your interference has compromised that utility. This is the consequence."

"Then punish me." You're beyond pride, beyond dignity. "Do whatever you want to me. I don't care. But leave them alone. Let them be who they are."

"Who they are," it reiterates, as if tasting the words. "And who is that, exactly? Broken children carrying wounds they didn't ask for? Young women haunted by betrayal and fear? They were never going to heal on their own. We are accelerating the process."

"You're murdering them."

"We are saving them. From themselves. From people like you. From a world that would have consumed them regardless."

The screen goes dark; the room goes quiet. You’re the only one standing in the room, facing shadows you can't see, and something inside you finally, irrevocably breaks.

"Is this justice?" You’re quiet now. Calm. Brimming with the stillness of someone who has passed through rage and emerged out the other side with clarity. "Is this what you promised? The parable of the talents—take from those who bury their gifts and give to those who multiply them. But you're not taking from HYBE. You're not giving to the girls. You're taking from them. Their memories. Their feelings. Their selves. And for what? So you can control them more easily? So they fit more neatly into your designs?"

The head doesn't answer. But you feel the attention in the room shift. The shadows are listening.

"You talk about justice," you continue. "About punishing the ones who hurt them. HYBE. ADOR. All the adults who used them and discarded them. But where's that justice? Where's the punishment? You've had months. Years. You could have brought them down. You have the power. You have the reach. So why haven't you?"

Still, you’re met with silence. You press on.

"You operate from the shadows. You manipulate media. You control narratives. You could destroy HYBE with a whisper. You could make sure Min Hee-jin never works in this industry again. You could expose everything—the internal documents, the hate trains, the manipulation, the lies. So why don't you?"

This is the tipping point. The head finally folds.

"Open confrontation is not our method. It never has been.” When it speaks, something in its tone has shifted. A fraction less certain. A degree more defensive. “We work in the negative space, the quiet places, the moments between moments. To attack openly would be to reveal ourselves. And revelation would mean—

"The end of the world as we know it." You finish the sentence for them. "I've heard this before. The justification. The excuse. 'If the public knew about us, everything would collapse.' But that's not the real reason, is it?"

No answer. Of course. 

"The real reason is that you don't actually want to change anything. You like the system. You benefit from it. All this talk of justice, of balance, of punishing the wicked—it's just theater. A way to make yourselves feel like you're the good guys while you keep doing exactly what you've always done: control. Manipulate. Profit."

"That's not—

"Then prove it." You step toward the table, toward the shadows. No one moves to stop you. "Prove that your justice is real. Attack HYBE openly. Take them down. Free the girls. Let the world see what's been done and who did it."

"We cannot."

"Cannot? Or will not?"

"Cannot," it repeats, and now there's something almost human in it. Frustration. Exhaustion. "Because the system you're asking us to tear down is the same system that keeps the world from descending into chaos. The same system that prevents wars, stabilizes economies, maintains the delicate balance of power. HYBE is a symptom. A small one. To attack it openly would be to reveal the disease. And the disease, once revealed, would spread."

"Bullshit." You're done being careful. "That's the same excuse every tyrant has ever used. 'We must maintain order.' 'The alternative is chaos.' It's a lie. It's always been a lie. You're not protecting the world. You're protecting yourselves. Your power. Your position. The girls—they're just collateral. Always have been."

The stillness that follows is different. There’s a change in the room; you can feel it. Everyone here can sense the shift.

When the head speaks again, it's as cold as space.

"You have made your position clear. It will be noted." It pauses. "But your argument changes nothing. The subjects are being processed. The operation continues. And you—" Another pause, longer this time, "You will be returned to your quarters. You will be fed. Monitored. Assessed. Your future will be determined in due course."

"And if I keep resisting?"

"Then the subjects' processing will continue. But we can make it more—thorough. More permanent. The memories you share with the subject designated Danielle—they can be removed. From both of you. She will not remember your night together. She will not remember you at all."

Your blood freezes.

"You fucking wouldn't."

"We would. We have. Many times. It is, as you noted, a form of justice. Cruel, perhaps. But effective."

"What do you want?" You’re one wrong word away from completely snapping, doing something you’ll most certainly regret. "What do I have to do?"

"Cooperate. Accept your place in the design. Cease your resistance." The head is almost gentle now, imposing its power with the gentleness of a trap closing. "The subjects will retain their memories of you. Limited, perhaps. Edited. But the core will remain. She will remember that someone cared for her. That she was loved. Is that not worth your compliance?"

You stand in the dark boardroom, surrounded by shadows, facing the very illusion of choice.

"Yes," you concede, yet it feels hollow. "It's worth it."

"Then it's settled. You will be returned to your quarters. You will be monitored. You will be fed. In time, when the processing is complete, you may be granted limited interaction with the subjects. Under supervision. Under control."

You nod. You don't trust yourself to speak any further.

The lights go out. Hands grip your arms. You're led away, back through the endless white corridors, back to the room that is not a room, back to the chair and the table and the coffee that's always new and you’ll allow to grow cold.

The door seals behind you.

You sit in the whiteness and think about Danielle. The scene replays in your mind on repeat, the sorry appearance she had in that chamber: her eyes, aware and fading. The metallic band around her temples. Most importantly, the light dimming behind her gaze.

You’re reminded about the promise: She will remember that someone cared for her. That she was loved.

You think about whether that's enough. If surrendering yourself and your dignity is worth the compromise. It’s not a matter of if, but when they’ll walk back on their word.

A tray appears through the slot. Food. Water. You don't touch it.

You sit in the whiteness and wait for a future you no longer believe in, held captive by powers you can't fight, loving a girl who may not remember your name.

It’s part of the long game, they insist. Justice, they say. You call it what it is: the oldest lie in the world, dressed in new clothes, sold to the willing and forced on the unwilling.

—————

The shadows gather in a room that does not exist.

Twelve chairs. Twelve silhouettes. The table stretches between them like a slab of polished night, reflecting nothing. At the head, the empty chair. Above it, the screen, dark and waiting.

They have been here before. Many times. The ritual is familiar: the gathering, the silence, the voice from everywhere and nowhere presiding over their deliberations.

These are the Ascendants. Tier 4. The ones who shape Luminary's will into action. 

They have never disagreed. They have never doubted. They have never been anything but a single blade, honed to a perfect edge.

However, tonight is a whole other story.

The head speaks first, as it always does. "The subject designated Mars remains in solitary detention. His psychological profile continues to degrade. Emotional attachment to the asset Danielle persists despite all intervention."

A pause. The shadows wait.

"His critique of our methods has been noted. Evaluated. Dismissed." Another pause. "And yet,"

The word lingers. No one dares interrupt. But one of the shadows stirs. A figure near the middle of the table, indistinguishable from the others but for the slight forward tilt of their silhouette.

"His critique had merit."

The room tenses. Anyone can feel it: the shift in atmosphere, the sudden weight of attention focusing on the speaker. No one speaks against the voice. No one ever speaks against the voice.

"Explain," it commands. Flat. Unreadable. 

"Our operation against HYBE and ADOR has been underway for over a year. The assets have been secured. The subjects have been processed. And yet the targets remain. Bang Si-hyuk continues to operate freely with zero intervention. Min Hee-jin continues her public campaign undeterred. HYBE's stock has stabilized. The legal battle continues with no end in sight." The objecting shadow is calm, measured, but there's something beneath it. A current. "The subject asked why we don't act openly. Why hide in the shadows while the ones who harmed the assets continue unchecked. It is indeed a valid question."

Another shadow speaks. "We do not act openly because that is not our primary function. We maintain order from behind the veil. To reveal ourselves would be to—

"To end the world as we know it." The first shadow finishes the sentence with a trace of irony and sarcasm. "Yes. We've all heard it. But is it true? Or is it simply convenient?"

The silence that follows is absolute.

The head speaks. When it does, something has shifted in its tone. A fraction less certain. A degree more human.

"You question the foundation of our purpose."

"I question its application." The first shadow doesn't back down. "We were founded to correct imbalance. To protect the innocent from those who would exploit them. To ensure that power, once given, is used wisely. The parable of the talents is our guiding principle: those who bury their gifts must lose them; those who multiply them must be rewarded."

"Yes."

"Then where is the multiplication? Where is the reward? The assets—the five young women we extracted—have been processed. Their memories—edited. Their trauma erased. But for what purpose? So they can return to the industry that harmed them? So they can continue performing for the same companies, the same systems, the same structures that made them assets in the first place?"

"They will perform under our guidance. Our protection."

"Protection." It sounds utterly—wrong. "We put bands on their temples and rewired their brains. We call that protection?"

A third shadow speaks, quieter than the others. "The subject Mars also noted something else. He said our justice is no different from the justice of the world we claim to control. That we are not correcting the system—we are merely replicating it."

The head goes dark. A current of dissent spreads throughout the boardroom. When it speaks again, it's softer than anyone has ever heard it.

"The subject is emotional. Attached. His judgment is compromised."

"Is it?" The first shadow, the first domino, objects again. "Or is he simply seeing what we've trained ourselves to ignore? We've spent months dismantling these girls' trauma responses. We've made them 'healthier,' 'more stable,' 'better able to function.' But we haven't touched HYBE. We haven't touched ADOR. We haven't touched any of the structures that created their trauma in the first place."

"What would you have us do? Attack openly? Reveal ourselves?" Another shadow protests.

"I would have us act." The first shadow leans forward, and for the first time, a fragment of face catches the light: a jaw, a mouth, the corner of an eye. "Not with shadows and manipulation. With consequence. With force. With the kind of justice that cannot be ignored or explained away."

"And if that leads to exposure? To chaos?" It argues.

"Then perhaps chaos is what's needed." The first shadow sits back, vanishing into the darkness. "Perhaps the world we're so desperately protecting isn't worth protecting at all."

The room falls silent again. The head doesn't respond. The screen remains dark.

But something has changed. The Ascendants are not a unified front anymore. Instead they are twelve individuals, each with their own doubts, their own fears, their own growing awareness that the path they've walked for so long may be leading nowhere.

The first crack in the foundation has formed.

—————

Two months. You've counted. Not days—you have no way to mark days, no sun, no clock, no change. But you've counted meals. Two a day. Regular. Reliable. One hundred and twenty meals since they brought you back to this room, this chair, this table, this white abyss that never ends.

Two months.

The coffee is always there. Always fresh. You've stopped wondering how they do it. You've stopped wondering about a lot of things.

They gave you books, at first. Then they took them away. No reason given. Then they brought a prototype Nintendo Switch 2, still in its packaging, with a stack of games you've never heard of. You played for a while. Zelda. Mario. The usual escapes. But the games couldn't hold your attention longer than an hour. Nothing can hold you.

Because every time you close your eyes, you imagine her.

Danielle in the chair, with the band around her temples, the light behind her eyes growing dim.

Every time an agent comes—to deliver food, to check monitors, to perform whatever invisible maintenance keeps this place running—you ask about them.

"Are they okay?"

No answer.

"Danielle. Minji. Hanni. Haerin. Hyein. Please. Just tell me if they're alive."

Still no answer.

"You're human. I know you are. Under all that training, all that conditioning, you're human. And humans can choose. Humans can help. Just tell me something. Anything."

The agents never respond. They don't even look at you. They come in, they do their tasks, they leave. You're a ghost to them. A problem to be managed, not a person to be acknowledged.

But you keep asking. Because if you stop asking, you stop hoping. And if you stop hoping, you're already dead.

One day, the door opens—the wall parting, the seam appearing—and an agent enters. Not the one from Brisbane. Someone new. Younger, maybe. Hard to tell. They all look the same after a while.

But this one carries something. A device. Small. Metallic.

They place it on the table. He gestures to you to press the screen.

A hologram flickers to life above the surface.

You see Danielle.

She's standing in a bright space, red carpet walls, elegant displays. An Omega boutique. Japan, the agent said once, before you were taken. Her ambassadorship. The one she signed under contract before everything took place.

Her hair is still blonde, still beautiful. She's wearing a dress—simple, elegant, the kind of thing she'd wear to an event like this. She's smiling. Not the old smile, the one you remember from Brisbane, from the café, from the night in Hong Kong. A different smile. Polished. Professional. Perfect.

She looks happy.

Your heart clenches.

"Is she—" You suddenly stop. Something feels off. But you try again. "Is she okay?"

The agent doesn't answer. But they don't leave either. They stand by the door, watching, waiting.

The hologram shifts. A new image.

Danielle again. Same event. But this time she's posing for photos, the Omega watch on her wrist catching light, her smile fixed and flawless. The crowd around her is distant, blurred, unimportant. She's the only thing in focus.

You want to smile. You want to believe this means she's free, that they let her go, that she's living her life, that the band around her temples didn't take everything.

But you know better. You know Luminary. You know they don't show you things without a reason.

"She's been released," the agent answers finally.

The words don't register at first. Out of that chair, out of that room, out of their control.

"What?"

"Two weeks ago. All of them. The processing is complete. They've returned to their everyday lives."

You stare at the hologram. Danielle smiles. Blinks. Smiles again. A loop, you realize. A recording, not live. They're showing you a recording.

"Why are you telling me this?"

The agent doesn't answer. They press another button on the device.

The hologram shifts again.

This time, you don't understand what you're seeing at first. A cityscape. Billboards. Screens mounted on buildings, lining streets, dominating plazas. Omega ads, you realize. A new campaign. Danielle's face is on every screen.

But it's not the Danielle you remember. Not the girl from church, from the café, from the night in Hong Kong. This is someone else.

She's naked—but not fully.

There are watches, jewelry, strategic placements of shadow and light. But unmistakably, undeniably bare. Posed like a statue, like a goddess, like something meant to be looked at and desired. Her body is on full display, every curve, every line, every inch of skin. Her expression is serene, confident, unashamed. Her gaze meets the camera with a directness that borders on daring.

Suddenly you can't breathe.

"What—" Your words die. Utter, utter disbelief. "What did you do to her?"

The agent watches you with flat, indifferent eyes. "We removed her inhibitions. Her trauma responses. Her fear of judgment. She is free now. Free to express herself however she chooses."

"Free." It’s the worst word to describe what you’re seeing. It’s anything but.  "You made her into—into this."

"We made her into what she always could have been. Without the weight of expectation. Without the fear of scandal. Without the voices telling her she was too young, too innocent, too pure. She is a woman now. Comfortable in her body. Unashamed of her desires."

The hologram shifts again.

A different room. Darker. Private.

Danielle is there. With men. Four of them. You don't see faces; the camera angles are careful, deliberate, showing only what they want you to see. But you see her. You see them. You see what they're doing to her—the way she moves, the sounds she makes, the utter lack of inhibition, of shame, of anything resembling the girl who held your hand in a Brisbane backyard and asked if you'd take the fire with her.

You're going to be sick.

The footage plays on. Minutes, hours—you don't know. All you know is that you can't look away. You’re watching the girl you love being passed between strangers, her face a mask of pleasure that might be real or might be programmed, you'll never know, you can never know.

When it ends, the hologram vanishes. The agent stands by the door, waiting.

You don't remember standing; all you know is pure, blinding anger. Your fists are clenched so tight your nails bite into your palms. The agent's weapon is visible now, holstered at their hip, a silent reminder of what happens to those who resist.

But you don't resist.

You stand there, shaking, furious, helpless, and ultimately, nothing.

"Why? Why are you showing me this?"

"Because you asked. Because you wanted to know if she was okay." The agent sounds flat, but there's something beneath it—amusement, maybe. Malice. "She is more than okay. She is exactly what she was meant to be."

"She was meant to be loved. Not used."

"She is loved. By millions. By everyone who sees those billboards, those screens, those images. She is adored. Desired. Worshipped. Isn't that what every idol wants?"

You don't answer. After everything you’ve been through with her, that is not what she would have wanted.

The agent turns to leave.

"Wait." Your call stops them. "Is there more?"

A pause. "There is always more."

"Then show me. Whatever it is. Show me."

The agent regards you for a moment, but they ultimately leave. The wall seals behind them, leaving you by yourself to think about what you just watched.

You return to your chair, and you stay there for a long, long time.

—————

Several months pass.

You stop counting meals, counting anything. The Switch 2 sits untouched, its games gathering dust you can't quite see. You eat because your body demands it. You sleep because exhaustion takes its toll. The rest of the time, you sit in the chair and think about her.

Danielle on those billboards. Danielle in that room. Danielle with strangers, making sounds you thought were meant only for you.

You know it's not her. Not really. The band around her temples, the processing, the rewriting—they made her into someone else. Someone who doesn't remember you. Someone who doesn't remember holidays at Brisbane, or the café, or the night in Hong Kong. Someone who would look at you now with polite, empty eyes and ask if you needed an autograph.

But knowing doesn't help. Knowing doesn't stop the images from playing behind your eyelids every time you close your eyes.

The seasons change outside, wherever outside is. You don't feel them. The room is always white, always the same temperature, always the same light. You’re existing in a perpetual present, a now that never ends.

Until one day in November:

The door opens. An agent enters. Different from before—older, maybe, or just more tired. They carry a tablet.

"The ADOR contracts," they start. No preamble. No context. "A ruling has been reached."

You sit up. Your heart, which you thought had stopped feeling anything, gives a hard kick.

"The contracts are to be upheld. The original terms remain in force. The subjects are bound to ADOR until 2029."

The words don't make sense. They fought so hard. The livestream, the pleas, the testimony before the National Assembly. Hanni's tears. Minji's steady composure. Danielle's desperate hope. All of it, all of it—

"In addition, three of them have agreed to return." The agent reads from the tablet, his tone persistently, annoyingly flat. "Hanni. Haerin. Hyein. They have accepted the terms and will resume activities under the ADOR banner soon. The remaining two—Minji and Danielle—remain undecided. Their legal teams continue to negotiate."

You're on your feet. You don't remember standing.

"No."

The agent looks up. "No?"

"They wouldn't. They'd never. They fought—they fought so hard—"

"They fought. They lost. The system you so despise has made its judgment. The girls have made their peace."

"This isn't peace. This is—" You stop. Breathe. Try to find words that don't exist. "They would rather die than go back. You know that. You've seen the footage, the testimony, everything they said. They called HYBE inhumane. They begged to be free. And now you're telling me they just—gave up?"

"The human spirit has limits. Even theirs." The agent tucks the tablet away. "Your distress is noted. It changes nothing."

They turn and make their leave. But you stop them one more time:

“Danielle. The ads. The—the other footage. Is that why she's undecided? Because she's—because of what you did to her?"

The agent pauses at the door. For a moment, something flickers in their expression, one too fast to read.

"The subject designated Danielle is processing her options. Her current activities are—expressive. Whether they conflict with ADOR's requirements is a matter for the courts to determine."

He takes his step back. The wall seals, and he’s no longer there.. You're all alone again.

You sink back into the chair. Your legs won't hold you anymore. Your chest feels hollow, scraped out, empty.

Hanni. Haerin. Hyein. Going back. Returning to the company that called them immature kids in leaked messages. Returning to the system that tried to bury them. Returning to the prison they fought so hard to escape. It sounds—unbelievable. After everything they’ve been through.

Meanwhile, Danielle—she's undecided. Adrift. Naked on billboards and in private rooms, her body a product, her face a brand, her true self somewhere lost in all that brainwashing.

You failed them. All of them. You thought you could protect her, save her, be something other than what Luminary made you. But in the end, you're just another piece of their design. Another tool that broke and was discarded.

The whiteness swallows you whole. This time, you let it utterly consume you.

—————

On a screen before him, the head of the table monitors his prisoner in the white room, relishing in watching his spirit utterly crumble in real time. He replays the moment the agent delivers the news about ADOR. The way his face collapses, the way his body folds, the way hope finally, definitively dies in his eyes.

It's beautiful.

The head leans back in his chair—a real chair, in a real room, not the shadow-boardroom where the Ascendants meet. This is his private quarters. His sanctuary. Here, he can be himself. Here, he can feel what he feels without the weight of leadership, without the need for absolute control.

And what he feels is satisfaction. Enough to get a laugh that reeks of pure schadenfreude.

The prisoner dared to question their ways, dared to challenge the status quos. Dared to suggest that Luminary's justice was no different from the world's. And the result: he sits in his cell, broken, watching the girl he loves become something he can't recognize, watching her friends return to the very system that harmed them.

This is justice. This is balance. This is what happens when one forgets their place in the cog.

Just as he’s about to indulge in his prisoner’s downfall one more time, the door slides open. A subordinate enters: one of his personal staff, trusted, vetted, loyal.

"Sir. The Ascendants are requesting another meeting. Some of them have expressed—grave concern."

The head doesn't swivel their chair. "Concern about what?"

"The prisoner. His critiques. They're circulating. Gaining traction. There's talk that our methods have become—" The subordinate hesitates. "That they've become personal."

"Personal."

His teeth gnash as he says it. It feels like a taunt.

"That you may be motivated by something other than the mission. That your judgment is compromised by—"

"By what?"

A second crack in the otherwise perfect armor: a sudden rise of his otherwise controlled inflection, a flare of heightened emotion. A spark of vulnerability.

The subordinate doesn't answer. It’s right there. At their very core. 

Finally, the head turns from the screen. His face is shadowed, unreadable, but his tone maintains its usual calm. Controlled, like this is all part of the plan.

It really isn’t. 

“Tell them the mission continues as planned. HYBE will fall. ADOR will fall. Everyone who harmed those girls will pay. But it takes time. The long game. They know this."

"And the prisoner?"

"The prisoner stays. For now. He's useful. A reminder." A pause. "Besides, he's not wrong about everything. Our justice is different from the world's. It's better. More complete. More—satisfying."

The subordinate nods, and turns to leave.

"One more thing." The head stops them. "The Omega campaign. The private footage. Make sure more is produced. Regularly. I want the prisoner to have a front-row seat to Danielle's—liberation."

The subordinate's expression flickers. Just barely. "Sir, is that—"

"Is it what?"

"Necessary. For the mission."

The head regards them for a moment. Their loyal subordinate, seemingly objecting to an idea—a foreign, rare thing. "Is that a question, or a judgment?"

A beat of silence. A deep gulp can be heard. Ultimately, they relent: "Neither, sir. I'll see to it."

The subordinate leaves. The head turns back to the screen, to the prisoner in his white room, to the exquisite architecture of his suffering.

But in the corridor outside, the subordinate pauses. They lean against the wall. Breathes.

This is no longer about justice, but personal satisfaction. Revenge dressed in philosophy, wearing the clothes of the greater good. 

The subordinate straightens themselves before walking right to their office. They lock their door. Check twice for good measure. And when it’s safe, they write:

To the prisoner in Cell 40: You were right. About some of it. About more than you know. There are those of us who still believe in what we were meant to be. Who still believes in the original purpose of our founders. You will be released. Not today, not tomorrow. But soon. Watch for the signal. Trust no one but yourself. —xx They quickly seal the note in an envelope and summon an agent for its immediate release. The entire sequence goes completely undetected.

"This needs to be delivered to Cell 40 at once,” the subordinate requests. “Under the head's authority."

The anonymous agent hesitates. "The head's authority?"

The subordinate meets their eyes, steady and certain. "Yes. His authority. He wants the prisoner to have it. Personal attention."

A lie. A clear, obvious lie. The agent knows it. The subordinate knows they know.

Nevertheless, the agent takes the note, nods, then leaves at once.

The subordinate watches them go, their heart relentlessly pounding as they track them through security cameras. Once the agent is out of view, they pick up the phone. Make a call.

"We need to talk. Quietly. And I need you to connect me with someone." 

A beat. The man on the other side of the line asks who they’re looking for.

“Karina’s handler. Yes, that one. Tell them it's time. The head of the table has been compromised.”

—————

━•✦•━•✦•━

Florence was beautiful at night, yes—like all of Italy, basically. But after a 15-hour flight, you didn't have the energy to go out for a drink alone that night when you arrived.

You were so tired that you didn't even go to the hotel you were going to stay at for the rest of those days. Instead, you ended up in a modest hotel run by a kind and hospitable older woman, who even helped you carry your luggage even though you'd insisted she didn't need to. As a thank you, the next morning upon departure, you not only paid for the room, but also left her a sizable tip to look after your luggage while you did all your chores.

So, feeling full and prepared, you hit the streets of Florence to make all the preparations for Dani's arrival the next day. The first thing, of course, was breakfast, and your choice was the Pasticceria Nencioni, a small dessert shop in the Sant'Ambrogio neighborhood, near the city center. The normal thing would have been to walk, since that's what you always did, but you were so far away that you ended up calling a taxi.

You were hoping for a peaceful day, but as you got out of the taxi and walked into the pedestrian street, a couple of guys stopped you to ask for photos. It didn't bother you; you were always very friendly and receptive to people who knew you and loved your job. But you didn't expect someone to recognize you on that remote street. It was to be expected in places like Rome or Milan, full of tourists and people of all cultures, but Florence was slightly more niche. A mere coincidence? Maybe.

What was certain was that you had to start getting used to the fact that your popularity wasn't the same as it had been two years ago, when you were barely known by chronically online folks. Now things were quite different. And you didn’t know how to feel about it.

After the minor setback, you walked down the street until you reached the small pastry shop, whose facade consisted solely of its awning with the name on it and the glass doors wide open, giving it a modest and welcoming appearance. The place was already bustling with activity at that hour, so you waited patiently in line to order, your mouth already watering with the smell of baked sugar, hot butter and hazelnut. 

Your breakfast ended up being a couple of pieces of torta al semolino—a traditional pastry filled with semolina cream and covered in chocolate—a cream-filled croissant, a cappuccino, and a small glass of water that Italians always served with their coffee.

Many customers just placed their orders and left after paying, so inside the pastry shop there were a couple of free tables next to the tall wooden display case to the left of the main counter, filled with antique bottles, books, small statues, and collectibles. Although you usually sat near the front, this time you went to a table at the back so you could do what you wanted to do in peace.

It must have been around midnight in L.A, which meant Wony was already at her hotel. Your girlfriend answered the video call as quickly as ever.

"Hi honey!" Wony greeted, walking across her room to lie down on her bed. She was wearing the same pink sweater she'd been wearing in the photos she sent you while you were asleep.

"Hey, darling," you smiled at your phone screen, adding sugar to your cappuccino. "Caught you busy?"

"Oh nah, I just got back to the hotel," Wony replied, and looked away for a moment to grab something before looking at you again. Judging by the shape of what she put in her mouth, you guessed it was her multivitamins. "How was your flight?"

"Terrible," you sighed, and took a sip of the cappuccino, careful not to burn your tongue. "I didn't get to sleep, for some reason. I just read and watched movies the whole trip."

"Oh my," Wony pouted and raised her eyebrows in concern as you scooped up a piece of cake with your spoon and brought it to your mouth. "My poor boy... At least you slept when you landed?"

"Not where I had planned, but yeah," you replied, your gaze momentarily on your breakfast. The cream-filled croissant was your next victim.

"Not where you had planned?"

"Seeing as I couldn't handle myself, I told the taxi driver to take me to the first decent hotel he found," you spoke with your mouth full, so you covered it with the back of your hand to avoid being unpleasant. You quickly swallowed. "And so I ended up in a quaint little place run by a kind old granny named Giuseppina."

Wony laughed, making you smile.

"Giuseppina?" she repeated. Her Italian pronunciation was improving every day.

"Oh yeah," you nodded. "A real sweetheart. And how are you? How's Tommy Jeans treating you?"

"Wonderful!" Wony responded, her face lighting up. "They were so nice to me. And they gave me a ton of snacks and clothes."

"Clothes you'd model for me, right?"

"I always model my new clothes for you, babe. By the way, where are you?"

"Oh right," you picked up your phone, which was leaning against the vase in the middle of the table, and put the back camera on to show her the bakery, just for a few seconds so as not to upset anyone. "A bakery near the center. It's amazing. I have to take you here sometime."

"Oh gosh, it's so pretty!" Wony said as you put the front camera back on. "You're having breakfast, aren't you? Let me see."

As if you were at a mukbang, you picked up both plates with the cakes and the croissant and showed them to the camera.

"Damn, that's yummy," Wony sighed. "Now I'm hungry."

"You have snacks to spare, right?"

"Yeah, but none of them are that cake."

"Well, I know the recipe. I can make it for you when we're home."

Wony remained silent, just looking at you with her head tilted. They were eyes full of love. Whenever she looked at you like that, you kissed her out of pure instinct. You wished you could have done it at that moment.

"My sweet boy, have I ever told you how much I love you?" Wony said, making you blush like an idiot in the middle of the pastry shop.

"All the time," you smiled.

"Great, because I don't want you to ever forget it."

"I'll never forget it because you love me as much as I love you, darling."

Wony brought her camera to her lips and covered it with kisses before returning to the usual shot.

"You're not prepared for how clingy I'll be in Paris," she said. "Poor you."

"Oh come on, you say that like I don't love it."

"I'm just warning you, sweetie."

The next few minutes were spent talking about your respective flights and things that happened along the way. You'd already finished your cake and croissant, and there was only a little cappuccino left when you saw the time.

"Honey, I should go," you said, stacking the empty plates. "I still have a lot of things to do."

"Okay, baby," Wony replied. "I'll take a bath and go to sleep. Will you be awake when I wake up?"

"Most likely. Will you wake up early?"

"8 in the morning, I think," Wony nodded.

"About 5 in the afternoon here, great."

"I'll text you when I get up then," Wony waved goodbye and blew you a kiss. "Bye baby, I love youuu! Don't forget to send me pictures. Of you, if possible."

"You have my word, honey," you blew the kiss back. "Love you too. Ciao."

After hanging up the video call, you sat for a moment checking your messages and email. Sohyun had sent you pictures of your cats and asked if everything had gone well on the flight. Sully had also texted you with the same intention. Dani, for her part, had told you her flight from Seoul was leaving at midnight—around 5 p.m. there in Florence—and that she would arrive tomorrow morning. 

But the one you didn't expect a message from, considering how busy she must be with all the preparations for her trip to Milan, was Rina.

Just as you were leaving and opened her chat, she was online, and she'd sent you a photo that you feared was... God. Your heart nearly leaped out of your mouth.

You had to take a moment to make sure no one was watching your screen and to process the content of the photo. A nude, of course. Sexy as hell, as only she knew how to make them.

With the Rina issue settled for now and your stomach full, you paid for your breakfast and finally left the bakery to take a taxi to the Maserati dealership, because clearly you couldn't take a taxi everywhere while you were in Florence.

Now, last year, your visit to Milan had made you discover a guilty pleasure, and it was expensive things. Very expensive things.

This was demonstrated when you unnecessarily rented the Purosangue, only to buy it months later at a higher price than usual due to import costs to Korea. Also a couple of months ago, when in a fit of love for your beloved girlfriend you had splurged $150,000 on just one necklace—she always wore it, so it wasn’t a regret for you and, to be honest, now you saw that figure as a small change.

And now, at the Maserati dealership, you exclusively consider the high-priced options. Although it's not as if there were any cheap options. It was either expensive or... less expensive.

The salesman who advised you, realizing that you knew more about cars than he might have expected, thankfully didn't try to take you for a fool and was quite helpful. One of the options was a convertible, but the point of those cars was to drive without the top up, and considering the mess that would arise if Dani was caught co-piloting a foreign guy—the two of them alone, in an Italian city—you decided to rule it out.

The final decision was a silver GranTurismo Trofeo, a gorgeous coupe with a 550-horsepower V6 engine. It was one of the few units left that was still brand new, as Maserati would soon become a 100% electric brand in a few years. The salesman clarified that the unit they had at the dealership wasn't available for rent, and that he would contact the third-party company they partnered with to bring yours in as soon as possible.

When the car arrived, you signed all the necessary paperwork and the contract, checked the condition of the vehicle, and proceeded to pay for the days you would use it. Your little treat cost you around $4,500. Minutes later, you were driving the coupe through the beautiful streets of Florence to Grandma Giuseppina's hotel.

After picking up your luggage and leaving the elderly woman another tip, you packed everything in the trunk of the car and drove to the Four Seasons, the hotel you had originally planned to stay at with Dani for those few days.

The imposing palatial building, worthy of a Raffaello Sanzio painting, rose along the narrow one-way street. At that hour, sunlight bathed the smooth ochre facade, casting shadows from the trees in the park on the opposite side of the road, where you had parked to get out and take a quick look at the small windows on each floor before crossing the street.

On the other side of the road, you passed between the two ornate columns and went through the stately dark wooden door that led you inside the hotel.

The palatial appearance of the hotel was also preserved inside. The first thing to attract attention was the majestic marble statue in the center of the interior patio, which was surrounded by four corridors with high arches and open columns crowned with murals and ornamentation carved from the same stone. The air was fresh, sweetened by the scent of freshly picked flowers from the patio. A group of visibly wealthy people chatted with courteous ease, sitting on the chairs and the green velvet sofa in front of the statue.

The corridor you were standing in had display cases behind each column on your left, featuring Rolex watches, handbags from various Italian brands, and jeweled accessories. But as you walked toward the reception desk, your attention was drawn to the arched ceiling, coffered with hexagonal panels that covered the entire surface, each decorated with ornamentation around the edges and a carved flower in the center.

As you walked through the corridor, you passed through the open door at the far end and entered the reception. Behind the counter on your right was the receptionist, a woman with her hair tied back in a bun and wearing the hotel uniform. You went with her to inquire about the available suites, giving you a range of options, from which, once again, you chose the most expensive option.

With your reservation for the suite—if you could call it that—made, you went to the car to get your luggage and returned inside to be helped and directed by a bellboy. To get there, you went out to the hotel's back garden, which was part of the Giardino della Gherardesca: a big shared garden that took up the entire block and served as a common space between hotels and institutes.

Outside, you circled the pool and left the hotel area enclosed by the hedges behind. The garden was larger than it looked, with paths winding through groves and small points of interest like fountains and parks where people gathered for various activities.

The suite was tucked away in the opposite corner of the garden, so you had to walk a couple more minutes until you spotted it in the distance. It was a cabin preceded by a wide semi-roundabout with a fountain in the center. As you passed through it, a perfectly manicured hedge and flowerbeds caught your attention: in the center, an archway covered in vines and flowering bushes led you inside.

The bellboy spoke to you as you passed under the arch, explaining the services available, the hours of service, and also giving you some historical context about the suite.

As soon as you crossed the archway, you were greeted by the wide circle formed by the perfectly manicured garden, with the small pool—more like a good-sized jacuzzi—on the left side, next to two lounge chairs and an umbrella. On the right side, there wasn't much else, just grass, flower beds near the side of the cabin, and a tree.

The cabin consisted, of course, of a single floor, accessed through two double glass doors, flanked by windows and framed at the top by a wrought iron structure with patterns of symmetrical circles and curves. Both were wide open, one revealing the living room and the other the only bedroom.

"D'ora in poi starò bene, fratello. Grazie mille," you told the bellboy with a smile, asking for your other suitcase.

"Ci faccia sapere se ha bisogno di qualcosa, signor Leone," the bellboy replied, handing you the suitcase handle as you took a few steps back. "Buon soggiorno."

"Grazie," you nodded, shook his hand in gratitude, and followed the stone path to the bedroom.

The first thing you did upon entering was leave your backpack and briefcase on the queen-size bed to the right. The two suitcases went into the corner between the mattress and the back wall. Then, you took off your shoes and sat on the lower edge of the bed with your feet up on the upholstered bench, taking out your phone and taking some pictures to send to Wony and Sohyun. Some shots were more elaborate than others, but you made sure to show as much as possible: the chandelier above your head, the television resting on the hand-painted bombé dresser, and even the visible part of the garden.

After taking the photos, you climbed into bed and began unpacking things from both your backpack and your briefcase. Since you weren't planning on going out again, you also went to one of your suitcases and took out some sweatpants and a wool sweater to change into.

Now more comfortable and without much to do, you set out for a mini tour of the cabin. First, you went to the right. There, the small hallway, with a circular mirror on the wall, opened in two directions.

The room to the left was a sort of dressing room, with an electronic safe and spaces for hanging and storing clothes. Nothing special.

But on the other side was the bathroom, which in itself looked like the lobby of a palace thanks to the marble walls and the gilded details of the double sinks and the large mirror on the left. On the opposite side, a dressing table with a stool and an ornate mirror placed above it, which you took to take another couple of photos. And within the same room, through a door to the left of the sink, were the toilets.

The other path led to an intersection, with the glass shower door on your left. You went to the right, and smiled at the sight of the bathtub embedded in the floor in the last room. You also took a photo, but you sent it to Dani, hoping she'd understand the possible uses you could give to it.

With that part explored, you returned to the bedroom and took the path to the other end of the cabin, past the central window visible from outside and another small bathroom.

The living room wasn't exactly modern, at least not by today's minimalist standards. It was more of a perfect blend of various vintage and eclectic styles, such as the white upholstered furniture, the classic-looking rug with brown prints on khaki, the nineties chairs, and the chandelier. And the entire right-hand wall consisted of gleaming glass panels, with a recessed space for a dresser, adjacent to a shelf with another gold-framed mirror above it.

All in all, it was one of the best $24,000 you'd ever spent. There was no way you'd regret it. On top of that, Dani's company was only going to make it better.

The cold breeze was starting to pick up, and the sun was already setting. In theory, it was still winter in Italy, which meant the delicious chill would slowly begin to penetrate the cabin. There wouldn't be any need to lock the doors just yet, so you sat on the couch, put your bare feet up on the coffee table, and relaxed with your phone. You even did an hour-long IG live to update your followers.

Wony also texted you, having woken up on her side of the world. You didn't speak for too long, as she had to grab a quick breakfast and rush to her schedule. But you made sure to give her the boost of motivation and affection she needed from her boyfriend to face her day.

Hours later, you ordered dinner from the hotel staff, and after eating, you showered and finally closed the cabin doors to go into your bedroom. Then you took out your laptop and started handling business matters in your email. The most important thing was to confirm your attendance at Fashion Week in a few days. Upon doing so, your internal point of contact at Prada almost immediately sent you a dossier-like document containing information about the event, such as schedules, exact locations, content guidelines for social media, and appointments with the styling, marketing, and logistics teams before the event.

By the time you'd tied up as many loose ends as possible it was almost midnight, which meant it was time to go to sleep since Dani would arrive first thing in the morning.

So you closed your laptop, went to close the curtains, and set an alarm for 6 a.m. before snuggling under the blanket and going to sleep.

The morning in Florence was beautiful as you drove to the Amerigo Vespucci Airport. Caraphernelia by Pierce the Veil played through the car speakers at a moderate volume. There were just under ten minutes until Dani landed, so you were on time.

Traffic was light at that time of day, so you were able to cut some corners and arrive a couple of minutes early.

Once parked, you put on the sunglasses Prada had given you as part of a welcome gift a couple of days earlier and got out of the car to head into the airport, hands in the pockets of your brown aviator jacket.

When you stopped to wait near the airport shopping center it was already 7:04. But it wasn't long before Dani Marsh appeared in the distance, looking like something out of a fashion magazine, wearing a black hat, sunglasses, a pink Hysteric Glamour oversized aviator jacket, a long black skirt, and brown boots. A large suitcase in her hand and her phone in the other.

Just as she'd told you, she was coming alone. She'd mentioned something about the possibility of her sister joining her, but it seemed her plans didn't work out. It was a shame, because her sister was just as lovely as she was, and you were happy to be able to show them both Florence.

But being alone would definitely have its advantages.

Dani smiled from ear to ear when you took a few steps forward and made her notice you. Her gait quickened, dodging the traffic. You closed the distance until you met halfway and hugged.

"Hi dearrr!!" Dani squealed, her arms clinging to your neck.

"What's up, darling?" You smiled, wrapping your arms around her body and holding her tight. "How was the flight?"

"Uhm, pretty chill! I slept through most of it," she replied as she pulled away and took off her sunglasses. You did the same. "Then I woke up two hours before landing. And you? How are you doing? Sorry for making you wake up so early."

"Nah it's okay," you shook your head. "I slept enough. Although I can't say the same about my damn flight here. You were lucky, at least."

Dani giggled.

"The pills helped, believe me. I can recommend the ones I use."

"Please tell me it's Klonopin, those are my favorite."

"What the hell are you talking about, Leone?!" Dani laughed, tapping you in the chest with the palm of her hand. "Don't say that again!"

"Sorry, you made it too easy for me," you smiled, and opened an arm toward the exit. "Shall we go?"

"Alright!" Dani nodded, putting her sunglasses back on.

"Let me help you with that," you said, taking her suitcase and starting to walk outside. "I hope you're hungry. I know the perfect place for us to have breakfast together."

"Thought of everything, huh?" Dani giggled, holding onto your arm. "I am, yeah."

"Your first time in Florence can't be a mediocre experience, Marsh. Of course I thought of everything."

"Something more like my first time in Rome, then?"

Suddenly, memories of that spontaneous trip quickly flooded your mind. A jacuzzi, on a terrace overlooking the Colosseum, Hanni, Dani, and Minji, all three of them on your cock...

"Yeah, something like that," you sighed, forcing yourself to push the memory out of your head.

Dani just laughed again. Perhaps noticing the blush on your cheeks.

After a couple of minutes of walking, you walked out of the airport and headed to where you were parked, which wasn't too far from the main entrance.

"Oh wow, you didn't spare any expense either, I see," Dani said as you crossed a road, watching you press the car remote to unlock the doors.

"And wait until you see where we're staying. Hop in, honey."

You opened the passenger door for Dani and went to put her suitcase in the trunk. Then you got into your seat, took off your sunglasses, and left them folded on the dashboard. Dani followed suit, taking off her hat as well.

"Do you really know how...?" Dani pointed to the touchscreen embedded in the dashboard. "You know, how to use that thing."

"It's not that complicated," you replied, and pressed the button to the left of the steering wheel to start the engine. "Put your seatbelt on, thanks."

Dani and you put your seatbelts on, and after adjusting the car's internal GPS through the touchscreen navigation panel, you hit the accelerator and drove to Via Alessandro Guidoni, heading for the Caffè Gilli. It was about a 20-minute drive, so you told Dani to get comfortable and put on some music.

"Did you come here often?" Dani asked halfway there, her eyes on the Hilton Garden Hotel park as you rolled past. "I mean, I know you're from Milan, but you seem to know this city well."

"I've visited every city in Lombardy and Tuscany at least twice," you replied, taking a small right turn. "I used to come to Florence in particular all the time," you took another left. "I mean, I don't know every shortcut and every detail, but I'm pretty familiar."

"Oh, okay..." Dani nodded, still entranced by the park to your right. "What about the south?"

"Southern Italy? Well, I've been there a few times, yeah," you nodded. "I was recently in Naples on vacation. There's some of that on my IG feed."

"Yeah, I remember seeing some stories. But did you go alone?"

Sohee had asked you to be a walking grave about that vacation of yours last September. In her words, no one, absolutely no one, could find out about that. Months had passed since you last spoke, and you had agreed to distance yourself due to the dangerous nature of whatever it was you had going on between you, but like the gentleman you were, you were going to respect her request. The secrecy was so profound that not even your closest friends knew.

Although, of course, the sharpest among them could have made connections, since Sohee had also posted photos in the same places as you... with photos you had taken. Like, no one had ever accused you of anything, thankfully. But chances are someone would be suspicious.

"Nope, I went with a friend and his brother," you replied. "The pizza there is incredible. The scenery too. Especially on the Amalfi Coast when you take a boat ride."

"Then I have to go sometime. I love boat rides."

"You're Aussie, no surprise there."

Dani chuckled.

"Look, I could be offended but you're right. In fact, since I'm such an Aussie, I've got a spider here for you."

Dani then reached out and tickled your ribs and thigh. She knew you hated that shit.

"Hey, no!" You squirmed, between pain and laughter. But Dani wouldn't stop. "Stop!! You're going to fucking kill us!"

With your free hand, you tried to stop her, and between struggles, her hand ended up on your crotch. She could have immediately removed it and kept bothering you, but fortunately for your hatred of tickling, she didn't.

"Oh, woopsies," Dani giggled, giving your bulge a squeeze that made you gasp. Then she removed her hand. "Are you going to feed it to me one of these days?"

"Not if you keep fucking tickling me," you snapped, a little angrily.

"Okay," Dani clasped her hands in her lap and looked out the window. "I'll be a good girl... daddy."

You took a deep breath and forced yourself to focus on the road so as not to wind her up. After about 10 minutes, you were driving into the historic center of Florence, through the narrow Via del Corso, lined with buildings with shops on their ground floors. The Caffè Gilli was located in the Piazza della Repubblica, a large square famous for its cafes and restaurants, so you had to get out of the car a corner earlier to continue on foot.

Dani stopped at a few places to take pictures and have you take them for her. She seemed enchanted by the place, even though the day wasn't as beautiful as in warmer times of the year and the sky was slightly clouded. If only she knew what you had in store for her.

After filling Dani's gallery with the first photos of the trip, you finally walked toward the café.

The place had two areas: the usual facade, on the ground floor of the building, with columns between each entrance and an awning that stretched from side to side; and a large covered dining area right in front, which you entered.

It was the time of day when people usually went out for breakfast, so the tables filled up more quickly. You hurried to take one toward the back of the left wing, not too far from the rear glass wall. Dani took more photos there, until a waiter came to welcome you and take your orders.

"Are all the cafes in Italy this cute?" Dani asked a couple of minutes later, glancing around. "I remember saying the exact same thing in Rome."

"Our breakfasts are sacred," you replied, arms crossed on the table. "Most Italians' day begins right here. So all our cafes are made with love. Pure tradition."

The waiter arrived with the first part of your order: a cappuccino with oat milk for you and a doppio espresso for Dani, along with a bowl of fresh fruit with figs, grapes, melon, and berries.

"Speaking of love..." Dani's smile slowly faded. She looked down as she opened a sugar packet for her espresso. "What happened between you and Hanni? She never wanted to talk to me about it."

You sighed and looked down at the bowl of fruit to pick up a grape and eat it. That topic was already a thing of the past, or so it was supposed to be. Talking about it and rubbing salt in the wound was a bitch. Especially with how everything had happened.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, really," Dani said.

"No, it's okay," you shook your head. "I just don't like remembering," you looked up. "Fuck, where do I start? Well... it was the day of her testimony in court. You know, when she was on TV and everything. That day she came to my apartment to, you know, sleep over and whatever. All cute and normal as ever.

"But the next morning she was... weird. She woke up before me. And she never wakes up before me. She didn't kiss me good morning, nor was she as smiling as usual. Of course I immediately asked her what was wrong and... fuck, it was like a fucking ice bath. It was horrible.

"But what did she say to you?" Dani asked, distressed. "You're adding too much suspense. Spill it."

"She said she couldn't do it anymore. I'm not going to go on and on about everything we talked about. But basically, she said that given her current life state, she wasn't sure she could give me the best of herself. And that there were a lot of things she needed to focus on before focusing on a relationship."

There was a momentary silence. Dani stared at you as your expression turned gloomy.

"Ouch..." Dani said.

"Yeah... I mean, now that I think about it, I understand that reason. But come on Dani, I was always there for her through thick and thin. Always. I don't think there was a single thing I couldn't help her through. Like... ugh," you groaned in frustration. "Whatever."

Just then, the waiter arrived with the food. You had ordered cornetto al pistachio, and Dani ordered a mini platter of mixed pastries: a small cannolino, a sfogliatella, and a croissant filled with lemon cream.

"Grazie," you forced yourself to say so as not to be rude, as the plates were placed in front of you.

"Thank you," Dani smiled at the waiter, but the smile faded when she looked at you again. "Jeez... I'm sorry, baby. For you know… reopening the wound."

"It sucks, but whatever," you shrugged. "I'm lucky to have found someone who helped me get over it."

"That's cute," Dani smiled. "And I'm very happy. But you should know that Hanni has been deadass jealous at least three times since then. I mean she denies it. But I can read her face."

"That's her problem. She should have known better than to leave me like a dog in the cold."

Dani chuckled.

"Look, in her defense, I must say that everyone's life is really turned upside down right now. It hasn't been easy."

"I know it hasn't been, but that doesn't stop anyone from having some emotional intelligence. Anyway, enjoy your meal, dear."

Everything was as delicious as you'd hoped, and Dani was so enamored with the sfogliatella that she ordered another one to go. You could have stayed and chatted for a while longer, but you had other places to take her. And what better way to go than to a museum?

Dani loved art; she was almost as devoted to it as you were. If there was anyone who would appreciate the Uffizi Gallery, it would be her, without a doubt. So that was your next destination.

"Hey, it's not that I'm not excited about going to the museum, but can we go shopping later?" Dani asked as you drove to the gallery. "I want you to know that my suitcase is purposely half empty."

You chuckled.

"Are you serious?" you said, your eyes on the road. "Well, it wouldn't hurt to update my closet. I'm in."

"Great! Because I don't know anyone better to be a fashion judge than you."

"Well, yeah, that's obvious. And...?"

"That you'll have to approve every item I want to buy," Dani leaned over the center console between the seats and leaned close to your ear. "Even the underwear," she whispered.

"Danielle Marsh, should I find an alley and fuck you on the hood of the car? I swear to God you're getting on my nerves."

"We don't have time for that, dummy," Dani replied, returning to her seat. "We have a museum to go to, remember? And then some shopping to do."

The sugary, innocent tone of her voice, along with her cute Aussie accent, made you let out a heavy breath. There was no possible objection you could make; after all, you were the one responsible for your itinerary. But at this rate, with two days still ahead of you, there was no doubt that things were going to happen more than once.

You sincerely hoped so, because that tight body was a marvel.

A short 10-minute drive later, you arrived at the Uffizi Gallery, a massive building that housed entire collections of Renaissance paintings on the banks of the Arno River. The tour lasted almost three hours, as you spent a good amount of time talking about each of the most interesting paintings, such as The Birth of Venus or Spring by Sandro Botticelli, or Caravaggio's Medusa, among the dozens of others in the museum.

By the time you finished your visit it was around 2 p.m. Dani loved every second of the tour, which was especially satisfying for you since it was the first place you'd thought of showing her when she'd asked you to be her tour guide a few days earlier. Nothing was better than having someone reaffirm your excellent tastes and actually enjoy them.

"The Birth of Venus is a beauty in person, wow," Dani said, scrolling through her gallery to see all the photos she'd taken. She was no longer wearing her jacket: now it was wrapped around her waist, leaving her in a fitted black polo shirt. "Wait, wasn't that the one attacked by environmental activists last year?"

"That's one, yeah," you nodded. You were taking a break in front of the gallery entrance, leaning against the stone railing that overlooked the river. The sun was already peeking out from under the blanket of clouds in the sky, reflecting on the still-calm water. "Idiots who think that'll change anything. They only gained six months in jail."

"Well, at least they tried to make a change. It's something."

"You wanna know how I think a change can be made? It's not pretty, and it has to do with multibillionaires."

"Nope, I don't wanna know," Dani said, looking up to pat you on the chest. "You know what I do want to know? How many new clothes can I bring home."

"Don't you want lunch first? I know the perfect place."

"I don't think I'm hungry yet. Let's go shopping, come on!" Dani said with a little jump, grinning from ear to ear to try to convince you.

"Consumerism consumes you, girl."

"And it makes me happy too!" Dani took your hand and pulled you along as if she knew the way—she didn't. "Walk!"

Well, anyway, you had no choice.

After a couple of minutes of walking, you reached the place where you had parked the car. You got in and headed toward Via de' Tornabuoni, a long, straight street lined with luxury brand stores on every side and at every corner.

A little over five minutes later, you were there. You parked a corner early, near the Column of Justice, an iconic monument in Piazza Santa Trinita. When you got out, you just had to walk straight until you entered the aforementioned street.

The first store was Burberry. Dani let you search first, knowing that she would be the one who would take the longest. There weren't many things that caught your eye there; you only ended up picking up a black wool sweater, an oversized cotton T-shirt, some sneakers, and a gold ring.

Dani, on the other hand, was a Burberry ambassador, and therefore felt a greater affinity for the brand than you did. Her choices were more varied, and while you didn't end up approving of all of them, the number of items she bought almost doubled yours.

And of course, she also struck the first blow.

Without you realizing it, she'd sneaked a swimsuit into the clothes she was going to try on, and she sent you a photo from the fitting room wearing the tight garment, which perfectly hugged her slim, curvy figure. There were two photos: one from the front and one from the side. Both blatantly suggestive. The design was very pretty, it was worth noting: white stripes and black checks on a beige base. Approved.

The next stop was right in front, across the street. Pucci's extravagant and colorful prints weren't exactly your favorite, so you didn't check out too many things: just an iridescent hoodie, some swim shorts, a lighter case—yes, they had those—and a three-pack of trunks. It's not like you had much to do with it, either; Pucci was a brand more focused on women, and the men's section was tiny compared to the rest of the store.

Dani took her time again. Her tastes matched her personality, and unlike you, she loved colorful clothes with abstract designs. So she swept every corner of the store, grabbing item after item to try on. She also included a three-pack of briefs, which she thought you hadn't realized she'd snatched.

So it didn't take you by surprise when, from the fitting room, she sent you photos of herself trying on the panties. One photo for each style: the multicolored one, with an abstract pattern of curved shapes in black, white, pink, purple, and beige; the white ones, and the black ones. Now you received back shots of her pretty ass, and also close-up shots of her crotch at stupidly hot angles. Approved. And now you were horny.

"You know I'm throbbing for you right now, right?" you asked quietly in her ear as she paid for her clothes. You'd already paid for yours. Between Burberry and this one, you'd already spent around $5,000.

Dani held back a smile and turned around after a few seconds to lean closer to your ear.

"Good for you," she replied. "But we still have a lot of stores to see. Hang in there."

Reluctantly, you followed her back to the opposite side of the street, this time to enter Tiffany & Co.—where the necklace you bought for Wony was from. Being a jewelry, watches, and accessories brand, there was no attack towards you this time. But it was by far the place that took you the longest.

Dani could afford to buy everything she'd been buying up until now, yes. But there were things in that store whose prices were exorbitant, so she only ended up buying two pairs of earrings for 3.100 euros each. What she didn't know was that you were feeling pretty generous that day, and you let her choose anything else regardless of the price.

Her choice was a diamond ring, specifically the Tiffany Titan designed by Pharrell Williams. 12,000 euros. Convincing her that it was fine and that you wanted to buy it because you wanted to was a difficult task, but in the end, you managed to get her to leave the store wearing the ring and with a smile on her face.

The next store was Celine. There, the number of items you bought broke that day's record, but it was Dani who was most hesitant about her choice. There were only a few things she actually tried on that you approved of. That was because her focus had changed: more damn swimwear.

Celine had been one of the stores with the most swimwear so far, and you were sure Dani had sent you photos of herself in almost all of them, including the bikinis. Some were prettier than others, you even told her to buy a pair. But they all shared the same common factor, and that was her tight body looking delicious in every single photo.

It was already getting too difficult to hide how needy you were for her. Dani knew it, and she enjoyed every second of it, knowing that, despite you being the guide and the reason she was there in the first place, she was in control. Everything indicated that she wouldn't be satisfied until you set foot in every single store on the damned street.

Sadly, that’s how it was.

Alexander McQueen, Balenciaga—one of your favorite brands—, Fendi, Jil Sander, Prada—where, to your surprise, the attendants already recognized you as a new brand ambassador, and let you choose whatever you wanted to take with you at no cost—, Gucci, Giorgio Armani, Bvlgari, and finally Versace. In absolutely every store you bought at least one or two items, and you didn't even keep track of how much you'd spent anymore.

The problem was that the number of bags you were carrying was bordering on the bizarre. You didn't know the exact number; you only knew that you were also holding two with your teeth and that you'd have to make two trips.

Thank goodness the car was close, because you were starting to feel empathy for the poor pack animals. The bags you were already carrying filled the back seats and the footwell, while the rest went into the trunk next to Dani's suitcase.

"Jesus, it seems like we raided the entire street," you sighed, getting into the car. You closed your eyes with your hands on your knees, your head resting on the seat.

"It was quite a productive afternoon, don't complain," Dani replied.

"I have plenty of reasons to complain."

Dani didn't respond. You heard her shift in her seat, but you thought she was just searching for something in her bag or something else. When you opened your eyes and looked at her, your eyes nearly popped out of your head.

She had taken off the heavy skirt she was wearing, along with her shoes. Now she was wearing only her black polo shirt, stockings, and a pair of black panties. Your sense of alarm went off, making you look around in every direction in case anyone was watching. The car windows weren't completely black, just tinted, so if anyone had taken a look, they would have seen Dani half-naked in the passenger seat.

"Dani, what the fuck are you doing?!" you asked, rushing to start the car.

"I'm making up for the inconvenience," Dani retorted, and as you hurried to get out of there, she reached out to squeeze your cock through your pants. "Or are you not throbbing for me anymore?"

"You didn't have to fucking strip in the middle of the square," you scolded her, driving without knowing where to go. An alley was what you were looking for, but being so central in the city, it would be a difficult task. "Someone could have seen you."

"So what? No one knows me here," Dani said, unbuttoning your pants to unzip them and slip her hand into your boxers. Her fingers wrapped around your cock, rubbing it until it was hard. "To them I would’ve just been some exhibitionist Asian whore."

"At least one of those three things is true."

You gasped as Dani pulled your pants down to your mid-thighs and held your cock upright, slowly moving her hand over it.

"Yeah, I may be a whore," Dani acknowledged as she gave you a lazy handjob. "But you've been craving this whore's pussy all afternoon. You haven't even bothered to hide it."

Well, that was a point well earned.

Dani sped up her hand movements, not caring how focused you had to be to drive through certain stretches and certain curves. Then she climbed onto her knees in her seat and spat into her hand before returning it to your shaft. Her wrist was now moving at a fast, steady pace. Not abrupt or frantic. Careful and measured.

As you stopped at a light, Dani stopped her hand and moved from sitting on her heels to back on the seat, only now, carefully, she leaned her back against the car door and stretched her long legs into your lap, lifting her feet and removing her stockings right next to your face. With her now bare feet, she lowered them to your cock and took it between them.

"Dani, for God's sake," you gasped, taking one hand off the wheel and moving it to her lower abdomen, rubbing her pussy over her panties with your thumb. "How do you expect me to drive like this?"

"Find a way. That's not my problem," Dani replied, now masturbating you with her pretty feet.

You were forced to return your hand to the wheel when the light turned green, and also to speed up as you searched for an alley. All the while Dani's feet moved up and down on your cock. At certain points, you could afford to touch her, rubbing her slit again and again until her panties were wet. It got to the point where her panties were already pushed aside, and whenever you could afford to finger her, you did.

It took you 15 minutes to find a damn decent spot. Along the way, you'd probably angered more than one driver with your erratic driving, but it wasn't your damn fault.

The alley was narrow enough, with a residential building on the left and the wall of a small garage on the right. A few meters ahead, where the alley opened up, there was a guardhouse, but the lights were off and no one seemed to be inside. It wasn't the right place to take her outside and commit an obscene act, but at least it gave you discretion inside the car.

As soon as you parked and turned off the car, Dani swung her legs from your lap and hurriedly climbed over the console to straddle you. Her arms flung around your neck and her lips crashed down on yours. And you hurried to use the buttons on the side of the seat to move it away from the steering wheel and then tilt it all the way back.

Dani cradled your face in her hands, kissing you between small moans and heavy breaths. Her legs settled between the sides of your body and the car seat as you wrapped your arms around her slender body, sliding your hands under her shirt to feel her back, then lowering them to her small waist and then her ass.

You lifted your hips and pulled the rest of your pants down to your heels, then pushed Dani's panties aside to grasp your cock and rub it against her folds, already slick with wetness. Dani also lifted her hips and slowly impaled herself on your cock until she took it all inside her tight pussy.

"Mmmgh fuck," Dani moaned against your lips, moving her hands down to your chest. Her firm little ass rested against your pelvis. "I can't believe it's been six months since I last had this cock inside me."

"Time flies, huh?" You gasped, holding her waist as she began to move her hips, fucking herself with every inch of you. "And who knew the first time I was inside you was also on Italian soil?"

"Oh I wouldn't mind being fucked every time I set foot in this country if it was you."

Dani went slowly at first, letting you feel her grippy folds hugging your cock every time she lowered her hips. Her lips moved from yours to your jaw and chin, planting small kisses on them, something she, being such a romantic, loved to do. Meanwhile, you groped her ass with gentle squeezes, returning the kisses she gave you but on her neck.

The car began to shake a bit as Dani accelerated, now moving her hips as fast as she could without jumping. That changed when she managed to prop her feet up on the seat and start bouncing on your cock, her hands braced under your pecs and her eyes on yours. Her face, gorgeous as usual, twisted with moans until her mouth fell open and her head fell back.

"Are you gonna cum, hmm?" you asked, holding her under her buttocks as she bounced on your cock. The sight of her abdomen bulging with your shaft increased your revs a thousandfold.

Dani just nodded, stifling a moan against her bitten lip. The sound of her ass slamming against you drowned out the music playing from the car speakers far below.

Her orgasm simmered inside her until she exploded with a squeal that muffled against your lips as she fell forward.

You wrapped your arms around her as she came on your cock, her body shaking until she moved her hips up and down again. Then, with your hands on her tiny waist and kissing her, you took control and began to fuck her hard and fast. Dani sank her teeth into your lower lip and pulled it before looking up at you.

"Are you gonna cum as well daddy?" Dani asked, gently cradling your face in her hands. "Would you do it in my mouth? I don't want to get dirty yet."

"Dirtier than riding me in the middle of a remote alley?" you gasped.

"I don't have anything on hand to clean up the big load you're gonna shoot inside me," Dani's words rushed out of her mouth. "So I'd rather swallow it."

So be it, then. Honestly, you didn't feel like getting cum on the seat of a Maserati either. Sacrilege.

Your hands moved down to Dani's ass and squeezed it as you started going faster than usual. Seconds later, as your cock began to tingle, you patted her back in warning. Dani quickly got off you and stumbled to her seat, kneeling up, bending over you, and taking the tip of your cock between her lips as you jerked off.

Dani's small sucks and licks on your tip sped up your climax considerably, and just a couple of seconds later, you exploded inside her mouth.

Dani took charge and slid her lips down your cock to suck it and take your load in her mouth. Her moans as she swallowed drop after drop made you moan too, holding the back of her head as she slurped on your shaft with slow, deep strokes.

When you emptied your balls down her throat, Dani pulled you out of her mouth and licked her lips. She straightened her back and looked at you with a sly smile, still holding your cock.

"Shall we go to the hotel, daddy?" she asked in that tone of voice that always drove you crazy, and let go of your cock to look around. Once she made sure no one was watching, she laid her eyes on you again and tilted her head. "The appetizer was delicious, but I'm starting to need that lunch."

"Yeah, but please get dressed before a busybody comes along," you said, and sat up to pull up your pants and boxers. "Those are abundant in Italy."

Dani hurried to obey your order, readjusting her underwear and putting on her skirt as you returned your seat to its normal position. When she settled into her seat, you started the car and reversed out of the alley, turned around, and headed back to the hotel.

It was around 7:30 p.m. when you finally arrived at the Four Seasons. Getting out of the car, you immediately went inside to ask some bellboys to help you with the bags you and Dani couldn't carry and with her suitcase. One of the guys—the same one who had guided you to your suite yesterday—took the lead with Dani's suitcase. The other one escorted you from behind.

Dani frowned as you stepped out into the hotel garden, confused by the path you were taking.

"Are we camping or what?" Dani asked, looking at the trees around you as you left the hotel behind. Not bothered by it, but curious. As if the possibility excited her.

"Close, but better than that," you replied. "You'll see."

A couple of minutes later, Dani's face lit up as she saw the cabin in the distance.

"No way..." she said softly, the light from the lampposts near the roundabout reflecting in her pretty eyes. "Is that...?"

"Aha," you nodded.

Dani was as amazed as you were yesterday as you passed under the arch, unable to close her mouth. She gasped in surprise as she stepped through and looked around the immense garden you had, paying special attention to the pool. The bellboys continued walking and went to leave the things they were carrying in the living room, not in the bedroom since you had left those doors closed with the curtains drawn.

"Oh gosh, this is gorgeous!" Dani sighed, a small smile on her face. The bellboys returned and offered to carry what you were carrying inside as well. "Yes, please. Thank you."

"I knew you'd like it," you smiled, handing the bags you were carrying to one of the bellboys. "Fratello, sai parlare inglese?"

"Of course, sir," one of the bellboys nodded with a thick accent.

"When you get those things inside, can you put that table here in the garden?" you asked, pointing to the table on the right side of the cabin under a small porch. "It's for lunch."

The bellboy nodded and, along with his colleague, carried the rest of the things inside.

"Man, I could live here forever," Dani said, taking a few steps onto the grass.

Dani walked a little further, passed under the umbrella, and stood on some wooden planks placed end to end to dry off after getting out of the pool. She stood on her tiptoes to peer in.

"Good thing you bought swimsuits, huh?" you asked with a chuckle, watching out of the corner of your eye as the bellboys carried the table to where you'd indicated.

"See? And then you say the afternoon wasn't productive," Dani giggled.

When the bellboys had put everything back in place, they returned to you. You thanked them both, and as you passed under the arch, you went to Dani's.

"Hey, let's go inside and call for lunch."

"Lunch? It's almost 8 at night."

"Dinnerlunch. Whatever the fuck you want to call it dude."

"Fair, let's go," Dani nodded and followed you inside. "We'll use that pool, right?"

"Of course we will," you replied. "But I think we'll have more fun in the indoor bathtub."

Dani just laughed before entering the cabin with you.

While you called the front desk, Dani took her suitcase and some of her bags to the bedroom to organize her clothes. She came back a short time later to decide what you were going to eat together.

The order you placed was large enough that you wouldn't have to order anything else for the rest of the night. You waited for it sitting at the table outside, still in your clothes since you wanted to eat before showering.

The wait staff arrived—quite understandingly considering how far the hotel was from the suite—about 15 minutes later, bringing your appetizers and drinks first. A classic bellini for Dani and a bergamot-infused negroni for you. Another 20 minutes later, the main courses arrived. Dani had ordered branzino al forno, with caramelized fennel and cauliflower puree, while you had fresh pasta with butter and white truffle. You both also had oven-roasted vegetables and arugula salad on the side.

"Hey, thanks for this, Ezio," Dani said a while later, when you'd finished your main courses. You were sipping white wine from your glass, a Vernaccia di San Gimignano. "This is just beautiful."

"Don't thank me, I like seeing people happy," you replied, setting your glass aside. "And I was looking forward to coming back here to Florence. So it's a win-win."

"You have to go to Milan after this, right?" Dani asked, then sipped her wine.

"Yup," you nodded, picking up a slice of veal left over from the appetizer and bringing it to your mouth.

"How are you holding up with that? Prada Global Ambassador, who would have thought."

"I try not to think about it," you replied, still chewing but covering your mouth with the back of your hand. "If I think about it too much I'll end up having a panic attack."

"But isn't it one of the things you've always wanted?"

"It is. But it's a whole new level of pressure for me. More exposure. More fame. You're never prepared for that stuff."

"I don't think you're taking the fame badly," Dani tilted her head. "You've been doing well so far. Although I understand what you're saying, now you have to be twice as perfect with all those cameras pointed at you."

"Yeah, and I've never dealt with anything like that. Not in the art world, at least."

"It's a new step, dear."

"A huge one," you sighed. "Anyway. Are you going to shower first, or am I?"

"Me," Dani carefully rose from her seat and took a quick sip of her wine. "And then I'll get back to organizing what I bought."

"Okay, hurry up."

Dani went inside, and you stood there alone, gazing at the slightly cloudy night sky while smoking a cigarette. After finishing it, you left two 500-euro bills under a salt shaker as a tip and went inside to call reception to come and collect the dishes. The only thing you brought inside was the bottle of wine, which you'd pay for separately.

While Dani showered, you started closing the remaining door and curtains, and, just as she'd planned, organizing all the clothes you'd bought. When she came out after about 20 minutes, you'd already replaced most of the clothes in your suitcase with new ones. But that left you with the small problem of not knowing what to do with the old ones.

"And now what am I supposed to do with all this?" you asked yourself, pointing at the clothes you'd left on the floor.

"I don't know," Dani replied behind you, getting dressed. "Buy a new suitcase?

"How the hell am I going to take three suitcases to Milan?"

"If you're taking two, you can take three."

"I don't think that's how it works," you turned your head to look at her out of the corner of your eye. "Can I turn around now?"

"No!" Dani said quickly. You could smell the oatmeal in the body lotion she was applying.

"I've seen you naked before, what's the difference?"

"Vulnerability!"

You sighed.

"Well, I'll go take a shower," you stood up. "By the way, I brought my Switch. Wanna...?"

"Yeah!"

"Nice. You can go take it out of my backpack and set it up." I'll be right back."

You walked straight to the bathroom, undressed, and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water run over your body for about five minutes before actually washing yourself. When you were finished and walked out to the bedroom with the towel around your waist, you found Dani kneeling in front of the TV, plugging in cables.

"That's it, stay like that while I get dressed," you said, going to get your clothes.

Dani chuckled.

"Vindictive bastard."

You hurriedly put on your sleepwear and went to help her. With the Switch already installed on the TV, you both climbed into bed and started playing a new game of It Takes Two—the main one was untouchable, since it was your game with Wony. The hours flew by, and you ended up leaving it when Dani felt sleepy around 1 a.m.

The next day was going to be long with all the destinations you were taking Dani to, so you couldn't afford to go to bed much later. You stood up and went to put the JoyCons back in their holders, then closed the doors and went back to bed with Dani. Soon you were asleep.

Dani woke up before you the next morning. She was the one who opened the bedroom curtains, allowing sunlight to filter through the glass door and shine directly into your eyes.

That morning you had breakfast in the suite, and immediately afterward you got dressed to head to your first stop: the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore.

Before entering, you spent about half an hour seeing it from as many angles as possible, admiring the beautiful white marble façade full of small details. Then you went inside the Duomo, and finally, you paid for the access to Filippo Brunelleschi's dome.

The 463 steps you climbed to reach the top of the dome were worth every second of physical effort, as you ascended, you saw the Judgment Day frescoes by Vasari and Zuccari up close. Once you reached the top, you were greeted by a beautiful panoramic view of all of Florence that made you forget you couldn't feel your legs anymore.

About ten minutes later, after taking as many photos as possible and having the private guide you had hired fill you in on the historical context, you descended from the dome and left the cathedral to walk right next to it, to Giotto's Campanile, one of the four monuments in Piazza del Duomo.

The visit was brief there. Your legs were sore from climbing the dome a moment ago, so you settled for seeing it from the outside, delighted with admiring the bas-reliefs and niches at the base of the tower.

The tour of Piazza Duomo ended with the Baptistery of San Giovanni, one of Florence's most famous religious buildings and the oldest in the square. This was by far Dani's favorite monument, simply because of the great amount of natural light it received and the impressive Byzantine mosaics inside the dome.

The next stop was the Mercato Nuovo and then the Mercato Centrale, both local markets with vendors everywhere. There, you bought souvenirs and tried street food, and when it was time for lunch, you headed to the Enoteca Pinchiorri, a magnificent 3-Michelin-star restaurant.

After that, you still felt good enough to continue. First, to Piazza della Signoria, probably the most famous square in all of Florence and the most visited, packed with historic buildings and points of interest. You let the rest of the night go by before heading out to dinner, and exhausted from that meal, you returned to the hotel around 11 p.m.

"Fuck, I'm exhausted," Dani sighed, dropping her bag on the coffee table in the living room before throwing herself onto the couch.

"And me," you said, closing the glass doors behind you. "Those 463 steps left me feeling dead."

You walked around the table and went to sit on the other couch, sinking into the seat with your head resting on a pillow. Dani rolled over to look at you.

"Are you sleepy already?" Dani asked.

"Nah, why?" You raised your hands to hug the pillow behind your head.

"I don't know, I thought we could... you know, do something."

"Something like what?"

"Didn't you tell me we could have fun in the tub?" Dani raised an eyebrow.

You smiled.

"I was waiting for you to say that." You let go of the pillow and leaned forward. "Because actually, I prepared for it."

"Oh, did you?"

You stood up and stood beside the couch where she was lying, hands clasped behind her back.

"Will you wait here, please?"

"Go ahead, take your time," Dani giggled.

All the things you were going to use to prepare the tub were inside one of the dresser drawers in the bathroom. It was the morning Dani arrived—before you left the hotel—that you had all of that stuff brought in, and of course you had spared no expense.

The first thing you did was partially close the blinds on the window on the wall next to the tub and close the curtains on the window facing the entrance, allowing only a minimum of light from outside to filter into the room. Then you started arranging scented candles: one in each corner of the tub, and three more arranged in a triangle above the dresser. After turning them all on, you turned off the room lights and made way for the dim candlelight.

The next step was to find your portable speaker and put on a playlist of R&B and jazz of your own making, so you could concentrate on preparing the bath. While you filled it with hot water, you added mineral bath salts, a few drops of rose essential oil, and a splash of oat and almond oil to make the water silky smooth. The foam was generous, enough to cover your skin but not making it look like shaving foam.

With the bath ready, you slipped out as quietly as possible to the living room to grab the bottle of white wine you had bought and a bowl of raspberries, grapes, and pieces of milk chocolate from the mini-freezer. You placed everything on a silver tray on the floor to one side of the bath: the glasses with chilled white wine on the sides, and the bowl in the center. Finally, on the edge of the tub, you placed massage oil, a natural sponge, and homemade soap.

"Dani! Come here!" you called her.

Dani hurried to answer your call and bumped into you outside the tub room. She tried to sneak a look behind you, but you shifted your body so she couldn't see much.

"Wait a minute," you said, standing under the frame. "Close your eyes."

Dani obeyed, and you were quick to stand behind her and cover her eyes with both hands.

"Come on, walk forward," you whispered in her ear.

You and Dani walked into the tub room. Then you uncovered her eyes.

"Oh my god..." Dani gasped, looking around with a small smile. "You did all this by yourself?"

"Well, yeah, what do you think? All the doors are locked."

"Wow... you really went all out in here," Dani giggled, taking a few steps forward before squatting down on the side of the tub. She moved her fingers on the water. "Oh, it's warm."

"You like it like that?" you said behind her.

Dani looked at you over her shoulder.

"I love it. You know that."

"Should we go in?"

"Yeah..." Dani stood up to face you. "But close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Just do it, Ezio."

You closed your eyes, and instantly heard Dani stir. Clothes falling to the floor, and then the water stirring after a slight splash.

"You can look now."

When you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was the pile of Dani's clothes in front of your feet, bra and panties included. Then you looked up and found her in the tub, sitting on the right side, the foam in the water covering her breasts.

"You did that so I wouldn't see you naked?" you chuckled.

"A little playfulness never hurts, right?" Dani said with a raised eyebrow. She'd also pulled her hair back into that signature double bun that looked so pretty on her, with a few strands falling down the sides of her forehead.

"Don't look at me either."

Dani giggled.

"Okay, okay. I won't."

Dani covered her eyes, and you quickly stripped down to get into the tub with her. The space wasn't too big, so you ended up touching the sides of her buttocks with the insides of your feet when you stretched out your legs. Dani then stretched out her legs too, resting her feet on your lap, right at the top of your thighs.

"Gosh, the water is delicious," Dani sighed, closing her eyes for a moment to lean back against the tub wall. When she opened them again, she looked at the floor beside you. "And what about that massage oil?"

"I don't know, just in case," you left both arms out of the water so you could pick up your wine glass. "Do you want some?"

Dani also picked up her glass, along with a couple of grapes, which she brought to her mouth to wash down with the wine.

"Mmm, che buono," Dani said, and couldn't help but laugh at your face.

"You've picked up Italian expressions so quickly?" you chuckled, as she picked up another couple of grapes.

"It's not that difficult, you say them without realizing it," Dani brought a grape to your mouth.

You plucked the grape from between Dani's fingers with your mouth.

"It's the consequence of spending days back here, sorry," you said, chewing the grape. "When I return to Korea it will be horrible to have to speak Korean again."

"God, don't even mention it," Dani sighed, and thinking you wouldn't notice, she placed a foot on your thigh, moving it very slowly. "I've been speaking English for a whole month now."

Like her, you discreetly placed your left hand on her knee to caress her skin with your fingertips.

"You can move here to Italy," you tilted your head, staring into her eyes. She looked gorgeous in the candlelight. "Naples would suit you perfectly; you're a sunshine girl."

Dani giggled, holding your gaze. Her foot moved closer to your crotch, very close to your pubic bone.

"In the future, who knows?" Dani took another sip of her wine and popped two pieces of chocolate into her mouth. "I haven't closed the door on crazier things."

"Even if it means moving to a completely different country than Australia or Korea?"

That night you were feeling peckish, eager to warm up, so you picked up your wine glass and emptied it completely down your throat.

"I'd need help, of course," Dani did the same as you, without a single scrunch, and set the glass aside. "You know, maybe a local advisor... sexy and handsome, preferably."

"As a northerner I don't think I'm exactly an expert on Naples. But I meet the last two requirements, I think."

"You meet them with flying colors, that's for sure," Dani inched her foot from your lap to your lower abdomen, caressing it with her toes. "And you're excellent at making your guests comfortable."

"Have you felt comfortable here in Florence with me?" Not wanting to be left behind, you moved your hand up as far as you could go without reaching so you could stroke her thigh with each finger.

"Oh, very comfortable," Dani nodded. "You've done a fantastic job as a guide. But you know what? I feel like you could..." Dani let the sentence hang in the air for a moment, and you felt her foot rise up your chest until it emerged from the water right in front of your face, covered in foam. "Do it better."

And with that alone, Dani got your blood pumping to your groin at the sight of part of her wet leg sticking out of the foamy water.

"Fuck, are you calling me incompetent?" you asked.

Dani laughed and rested her foot on your chest.

"What are you talking about, dummy? No, not at all." Dani moved her other leg underwater and pressed the sole of her other foot against your cock, accelerating your erection. "I'm just saying you can do even better."

"And how exactly could I do that?" you asked, taking her foot to lift it out of the water and skim off the foam. Her other foot was beginning to move along your cock.

"Just try," Dani replied. "I don't think it'll go badly for you."

Without further ado or wanting to delay the inevitable, you took Dani's foot by the heel and brought her big toe to your mouth. At first, the taste wasn't too pleasant, given all the bath products in the water, but that became irrelevant when you started salivating on her soft toes.

Dani muffled a moan against her puckered lips, rubbing you from tip to balls with her right foot. She picked up the wine bottle from the floor, and after uncorking it, she drank directly from it, a good gulp that went down her throat and spilled from the corners of her lips to her sexy neck.

"Do you want some, daddy?" Dani asked softly, while you swirled your tongue around her big toe and rubbed the underside of her thigh with your hands.

You nodded, took her foot out of your mouth, and lifted your head. Dani knelt up, finally letting you see her pretty little tits. She moved through the water until she was positioned on your lap, her knees on either side of your hips. She grabbed your head and tilted it back, and you opened your mouth for her to pour wine into it.

"It's delicious, isn't it?" Dani said, kissing you for a moment after you swallowed the wine. "What do you think of this?"

Dani took another long gulp of wine, then floated her face over yours and let the wine fall from her mouth to yours. That turned you on so much that your cock throbbed underwater and brushed against her pussy for a second.

"Fuck," you gasped, wrapping your arms around her slender frame to press her against you and taste her lips. "Give me your tits."

Dani lifted her chest and held her perky, wet breasts right in front of your eyes. You placed your hands on her back and brought one to your mouth. Dani immediately poured wine over her collarbone, letting it run down her skin and allowing you to suck it into your mouth from her breasts. As you did, she continued to drink straight from the bottle. Until, between gulps and spills, the bottle was empty.

"Turn around, darling," you said, giving one last suck to one of her nipples. "I know another way to make you comfortable."

Dani placed the empty bottle on the floor next to the tray and turned around to sit between your legs, resting her back on your chest and her head on your left shoulder. She turned her face so that it was inches from yours, and you gently took her chin and brought your lips together.

As your kiss heated up and you were exploring each other's mouths with your tongues, you slowly lowered one hand down her chest and toned abdomen until you reached her pussy, which you began to rub slowly with your ring and middle fingers.

Dani moaned against your lips and opened her legs, lifting them over yours. Your other hand slid from her waist to her breasts, cupping one to squeeze and pinch her nipple. Meanwhile, you gradually accelerated the movement of your right wrist until the rapid circles caused your lips to part and her to lean back against your shoulder and relax.

"Is this what you had in mind?" you asked in her ear, gently sucking on her earlobe. Dani twisted her hips slightly, causing your cock to rub against her lower back. "I hope I'm doing a good job."

"You're doing great, daddy," Dani gasped with her eyes closed, holding your left wrist with her left hand and your neck with her right. "But could you maybe...?"

No more words were necessary. You stopped your fingers, and between kisses on her cheek, you lowered them down her folds to carefully insert them inside her pussy. Deni tensed and tightened her grip on your neck as you reached deep inside her tight pussy, only leaving your knuckles outside.

"Open your mouth," you whispered as she let out a moan.

Dani obeyed, and you stretched out your left arm to grab a piece of chocolate and place it in her mouth. As she chewed, you made her moan by pumping your fingers in and out of her pussy.

"Oh fuck daddy," Dani moaned, her chest rising and falling with her labored breathing. She put her left hand underwater, slid it between your bodies, and with a grip that was somewhat uncomfortable for her, stroked it up and down. "I want to suck your cock so bad."

"Cum first and it'll be all yours, baby," you murmured against her neck, planting kisses.

"God, I'd be happy to."

Dani turned her face and met your lips again, arching her back and moaning against them as you pumped your fingers faster and faster. The water began to slosh and churn as you began to use all the strength in your arm to make Dani squeal with pleasure.

"Yes, yes... keep going, daddy, keep going, yes! Mmmmgh!!"

Part of Dani's breasts bulged out of the water as her orgasm crashed through her. You wrapped your left arm around her and held her close. Dani writhed underwater, causing some to spill over the side of the tub and nearly extinguishing one of the candles.

"That's a good girl," you gasped, your fingers deep inside her, only moving the tips to stimulate her upper wall. "Remind me what you wanted?"

"Suck your cock, daddy," Dani sighed, still trembling. "So bad."

"Let me up then."

Dani moved forward and gave you room to carefully stand up. When she turned around and got onto her knees, your erect, throbbing cock was between her eyes. Her hand quickly went to it to remove the lather and soap, and then she didn't hesitate to take it directly into her mouth.

You moaned as Dani's lips slid in a single motion halfway down your shaft, sucking on those first few inches without paying any attention to your eyes. Her hands stayed on the sides of your thighs as she pushed her limits further and further, finally stopping when her gag reflex kicked in just a few feet from your base. She pulled you out of her mouth with a gasp.

"Mmmm, so tasty," Dani moaned. She looked up at you while biting her lower lip. Her hand stroked your cock for a moment before placing wet kisses on the underside. "Are you going to give me the best fuck of my life with this cock, daddy?"

Dani took you back into her mouth and didn't let you respond immediately.

"God," you gasped, as Dani sucked your cock with slow, deep pumps. "I promise you won't walk well tomorrow."

"Good thing we're not planning on going out tomorrow, then," Dani replied one last time before focusing fully on giving you a wet and sensual blowjob.

Dani's loud slurps harmonized with the soothing jazz playing in the background. The scene was wonderful, and it felt even better. But Dani's slender body, wet and illuminated by the warm candlelight, was already starting to look irresistible to you.

A minute passed when you stopped her and helped her stand. Dani quickly grabbed your face and kissed you. You wrapped your arms around her in a tight hug, reciprocating the kiss while your hands moved to her back and ass. After a moment, you grabbed her by the waist and turned her around. Dani's first instinct was to bend forward, brace her hands against the wall, and arch her back to give you her ass. Then, you placed your hand on her lower back, took your cock and guided it between her buttocks, and slowly began to fill her tight pussy with throbbing flesh.

"Mmm fuck," Dani moaned softly. "Put it all in daddy, all of it. Please."

Dani let out a louder moan as the entire length of your shaft disappeared inside her tiny pussy. Her head fell between her shoulders, and she lifted it again to look at you over her shoulder. Your eyes locked on each other's as you began to pump your hips. Dani's tight walls forced you to go slowly at first, but as you stretched her inside, you finally allowed yourself to pick up speed.

"Fuck me hard daddy," Dani begged with a pretty moan. "My tight body can handle it..."

Despite her pleas, you took a moment to enjoy how good her pussy felt inside at a slow, deliberate pace, watching her outer walls clench so tightly around your shaft. There was no rush, and Dani didn't complain about it. But the look in her eyes told you that what she desperately needed was for you to pound her like an animal.

So be it.

With one hand gripping her tiny waist and the other on the back of her neck, you began pounding her pussy so hard that drops of water splashed out of her buttocks with each collision of your pelvis. Dani squealed, her tight body being shaken by every inch of your cock.

"Yes daddy, just like that!" Dani moaned, struggling to hold onto the wall without slipping. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!!"

Aware of the danger of her wet hands and the fact that she was holding onto a marble wall, you grabbed Dani by the wrists and pulled her arms back. She instinctively raised her body slightly, but kept her back arched so you could continue fucking her, while you held her behind her elbows.

Between strong, fast thrusts, Dani came a second time without warning, her knees shaking like the rest of her body. It was easy to fall there, so in an effort to avoid a tragedy, you quickly pulled her towards you and pressed her back against your chest, holding her upright with your left hand on her neck and the other on her waist.

"Give me more, daddy," Dani said in a small voice, her hand on yours at her neck. She squeezed as a signal for you to do the same, and you did, tightening your fingers around her long neck. "Just like that, fuck."

A new round of hard pounding on her pussy began, causing Dani to erupt in a wave of screams that rattled your eardrums from very close range.

The fear of falling was still there; you felt it in the unreliable grip your feet had on the bathtub floor, so you wanted to get out of there quickly. The quickest solution was to slide your right hand from her waist to her pussy, and with the use of two of your fingers, rub her clit in quick circles while you fucked her until Dani came again.

"Oh my god!!" Dani screamed, thrusting her hips back. Her spasms shook every muscle in her body. "So goood!!"

"Let's go outside, baby," you whispered in her ear after a minute, when Dani relaxed her muscles. "I wouldn't want to fall here and break my neck."

Dani nodded, and you pulled her out to hand her a towel. You both got out of the tub and dried off quickly.

"Want to try that massage oil?" you asked, somewhat desperate to get back inside her pussy but careful not to let it out.

"Whatever you want, daddy," Dani replied, leaving her towel spread out on the bathroom floor. She lay on top of it, her legs intertwined and her hands crossed on her abdomen as she looked at you.

You squatted down and grabbed the massage oil, a small purple bottle of about 300 milliliters that said it smelled of almonds and lavender. With it in your hand, you went to Dani and spread her legs to enter her pussy again. Dani arched her back and moaned, at which point you began pouring the oil in long lines all over her body.

"Mmm, it's warm," Dani said. Her eyes followed your hands as they spread the oil over her body, leaving her skin slick and shiny in their wake. "Do I look sexy?"

"You have no idea," you replied, now concentrating on her legs and moving your hips. You also covered her feet with massage oil.

Dani bit her lower lip and played with her own tits, circling her nipples with her fingers. Your slow thrusts against her pussy made her let out small moans.

"I want to do the same with you..."

"Absolutely."

You pulled out of her, and Dani stood up so you could lie down in her previous spot. She then straddled your lap, impaled herself on your cock, and, as she moved up and down, grabbed the bottle of oil and repeated the same process with your body. Your upper body was ready in a matter of seconds, and Dani then rode you in reverse to work on your lower body.

As Dani bounced on you with moans that became loud again, you noticed that her body from behind, both her back and her ass, were completely dry. So you took the bottle from her hand and let her continue enjoying your cock while you left that visible part of her skin glistening.

"Oh yeah, now we're talking," you gasped, and set the bottle aside to grab her slick ass as she bounced on your cock.

A few seconds later, you grabbed Dani by the shoulders and made her lie back against your chest. You wrapped your left arm around the back of her knees and pulled them up toward her torso. With another grip on her waist, you could now pump your hips up and down to fuck her.

"Mmmh fuck fuck fuck!" Dani moaned. Her back slid against your chest, making it difficult for her to stay still while she was pounded. Fortunately for her, neither of your grips weakened. Although you had to dig your fingers hard into her waist to keep her from slipping. "Harder daddy. Yes! Yes!"

Dani came a moment later. You both moaned. Her pussy smothered and throbbed around your cock. She gripped the sides of your body, spasming intensely, nearly causing her to fall to your left. You held her chin with your right hand and made her kiss you as she rode out her orgasm.

"Darling, I need a break," Dani said against your lips before looking into your eyes. "Are you close?"

"Enough," you nodded with a gasp.

"Use my feet," she planted a small kiss on your lips. "I know you love them."

It was somewhat embarrassing how quickly you lowered her onto the towel beside you and knelt in front of her legs. Dani gave you a teasing smile. She raised her feet, her soles facing each other. You placed your cock in the middle, and Dani brought her feet together to make a sandwich filled with your shaft.

"Oh lord..." you gasped, closing your eyes to enjoy how good her slick feet felt as you fucked them.

"Come on, daddy," Dani purred, looking into your eyes. "Give me that load... give it all."

You began pumping your hips rapidly, holding her feet by the heels to keep them in place. The sensation was overwhelmingly delicious, making you moan loudly as your climax approached.

"Fuck, Dani, I'm going...! Mmmgh!!"

A powerful jet of cum shot out of your cock as you thrust forward and exploded. It landed directly in Dani's mouth and between her breasts. As you continued pumping, the remaining jets landed on her abdomen and stained her feet as well. By the time you were done, Dani was a perfect canvas covered in thick white. So pretty, with such innocent eyes and a delicate face, it almost blew your mind.

"You came a lot daddy..." Dani said with a small smile, licking the cum that had fallen on her lips.

"Wanna go shower?" you asked, panting, still mentally dazed from that melting orgasm. "That way we can clean ourselves up."

"You still have something for me, don't you?" Dani raised an eyebrow.

"Of course I do," you nodded, struggling to your feet. "But just like you, I need a little break."

Dani extended her hand for you to help her up, and then you laced your fingers with hers as you walked slowly out of the tub, through the room with the sinks, and into the shower, a glass cubicle set between the marble walls.

It was a small space. Not claustrophobic, but small enough that with every movement your bodies brushed somehow. Dani slipped an arm under yours and turned on the faucet. The water fell cold on your body, but it turned lukewarm when Dani turned the hot knob.

Dani undid her buns and left her hair down as you washed the oil off your body. She then took your place under the shower, and with a sponge and soap, you helped her wash until her body was clean.

"Better?" you asked in her ear, your hands on her waist.

"Much better," Dani replied, pushing all her wet hair back. She turned her head to look at you as you kissed her shoulder. "And you? Have you taken your break yet?"

"Not yet," you replied, shifting kisses to her shoulder blade and then to her back. "There's something I still want to do."

You switched positions with her, leaving her facing the marble wall. Dani rested her hands there as you crouched behind her, trailing kisses down her back to her ass, where you distributed a short series of kisses and bites before parting her buttocks and planting your mouth on her pussy.

"Oh my..." Dani sighed as you ate her pussy from behind with slow licks and kisses. "I was starting to wonder when you were going to eat me out."

The warm water fell over your lower back as you devoured her, hands on her thighs. Dani's moans began to flow, indicating which spots to hit faster or which to kiss. She placed a hand on the back of your neck, tangled her fingers in strands of your hair, and as she pushed her hips back, she pulled you into her buttocks to smother you with them.

"Fuck, daddy, I missed your tongue so much," Dani moaned, tugging at your hair. Her pussy was soft and delicious. Addictive like few others. "Please make me explode in your mouth."

More than a request, that sounded like a challenge which you took very seriously. You slid your hands from her thighs to her buttocks and squeezed both, moving your tongue faster and using your head to move it in different ways. When you found the right one, you held onto it and used it until you made Dani cum.

"Mmmgh, that feels so good!" Dani squealed, grinding her ass against your face. You collected her juices and drank them, with the thirst of a castaway who had been on a random Indonesian island for days. "Put your cock inside me, daddy, please. You still have to fill me."

"Fuck, Marsh," you gasped, pulling away from her ass. "What's with this sudden thirst for cock?"

Dani didn't respond as you stood up and smashed your lips together again. She used the same hand she'd had in your hair to grab your cock and stroke it until it was hard. Then, in the middle of a hot, sloppy kiss, she guided your cock between her ass cheeks and back into her pussy.

"Mmm, are you going to fill my pussy with cum daddy?" Dani asked between kisses. You were already starting to move, both hands clamped around her waist. "Please fill me deep."

"Fuck, woman, that's what I intend to do," you managed between gasps. For some reason, you were exhausted, and you weren't sure how much you could match her energy level. But you were going to make the effort. "Just be a good girl for daddy and keep cumming."

Dani nodded between moans and bit your lower lip before kissing you again.

A sudden, autopilot trance took over you, erasing consciousness and the notion of time. All you knew was that within seconds you were fucking her like an animal against the bathroom wall, biting and kissing her neck until she came.

But without even giving her a chance to calmly ride out her orgasm, you lifted her right leg behind her knee and made her stand sideways, her thigh resting against your left arm. Similar to the way you fucked Rina that time in the elevator. Only Dani's body was considerably thinner, and the spots your cock hit in that position were more sensitive to her.

Dani squealed with pleasure, unafraid of being too loud for someone to hear. She came a second time. And then you, without thinking, lowered her leg and picked her up in your arms. Her back was pressed against the wall, her arms wrapped around your neck. Your hands spread her thighs wide, pinning her knees against the wall as you pounded her into an intense frenzy.

"Oh my fucking god!!" Dani screamed, clawing at your back with her nails. "Yes, yes, yes!!" Her screams were getting louder, and you were sure she was crying with pleasure now.

It was incredible considering the temperature in Florence at that moment, but fucking that woman had you sweating like a motherfucker. She enjoyed it three times as much, which was all that mattered to you. But for God's sake, you weren't going to need any cardio for at least two weeks.

"Cum inside me, daddy!" Dani moaned in your ear, no longer knowing what to hold on to. "I can't feel my fucking legs anymore, damn it!"

Panting like a raging bull in the middle of a run, you entered the final stretch of your climax. All your blood rushed down like adrenaline shots, until with a heavy snort, you dug your fingers into the flesh of her thighs and exploded inside her.

"YESSS!!" Dani screamed, cumming at the same time as you. The thick, abundant load you shot inside her only made her moan louder. "Oh my god, I'm going to pass out!"

"Calm your slut ass down," was the first thing you said after all that time. "I don't want to carry a dead weight out of the shower."

Dani held onto you as you emptied your balls inside her and her muscles spasmed. Completely spent, you pulled out of her pussy and let all your cum seep through her folds and spill onto the shower floor like a waterfall.

"Satisfied, darling?" You asked, looking into her eyes closely. Your arms were starting to hurt from carrying her.

"Can't you continue?" Dani asked.

You chuckled, incredulous.

"Unfortunately not," you shook your head. "At least not right now. Forgive me."

"No, silly," Dani stroked the back of your neck. "Nothing to apologize for. It's fine. You did a lot, actually."

"Not enough to quench your slutty thirst, I see."

"I never said I wasn't satisfied, I just asked if you could continue."

"And I already said no, so let's go to fucking bed, please."

"Should we clean the tub?"

You thought about it for a moment. Having to empty the bathtub, clean the floor, pick up the tray, put away what you hadn't eaten, the glasses...

Fuck, what a drag.

"No, save it for tomorrow morning."

"Fair. We'll be here all day, right?"

"That's what I had in mind, yeah."

And that's exactly what happened.

After going to bed that night, you slept a peaceful 10 hours and woke up around 11 a.m. You spent the whole day in the cabin, enjoying the outdoor pool, getting wasted on martinis and negronis, and playing games on your laptop.

By the next morning, you were both ready to catch your respective flights. Dani would be returning to Australia to meet her sister. And your next stop was the terrifying, intimidating, and also exciting Milan Fashion Week. The biggest black sheep moment of your life, potentially.

for a rough version, read my another Danielle smut in ao3 which is essentially non-con btw!

p1

You are Y/N, a member of one of HYBE's popular boy groups. You've been in the industry for a few years now, working hard, performing on the same stages as NewJeans during company events, award shows, and year-end concerts. Over time, you and Danielle became kind of close—not best friends, but more than just acquaintances. You'd always find each other in the waiting rooms, sharing snacks, laughing about stupid schedules, or complaining about practice. The way she smiled at you a little longer, the way your heart beat faster when she hugged you hello. You liked her. A lot. And you were pretty sure she felt something too, even if neither of you ever said it out loud.

But everything changed on December 29, 2025.

The news hit like a bomb: ADOR terminated Danielle's contract. She was out of NewJeans. Out of the group she'd poured her everything into. You saw the statement, the fan reactions exploding online, the hate, the confusion. You kept checking your phone, wondering if you should message her. You didn't want to overstep, but you couldn't just do nothing.

The next day, December 30, you finally couldn't take it anymore. Late at night, after practice, you scrolled through your contacts and found her number—one you'd saved from a group chat during a HYBE family concert last year. Your hands shook a little as you pressed call.

The phone rang… and rang… then she picked up.

"Hello…?" Her voice was small, hoarse, like she'd been crying for hours.

"Danielle? It's… it's me, Y/N." You kept your voice soft. "I just heard about everything. Are you okay?"

There was silence, then a broken sob. "Y/N… no… I'm not okay…"

You felt your chest tighten. "Where are you? Talk to me."

She started crying harder, words tumbling out between gasps. "I went home after the news… my family… they were so mad. They blamed me for everything, said I ruined my life, that I was stupid for trusting my agency.. And now my dad is also extremely angry.. he hit me. Hard. More than once. I couldn't stay. I just ran out. I have nowhere to go. My group members…. Minji, Hanni, Haerin… they blocked me. Everyone blocked me. I'm alone. Completely alone."

Your blood boiled. How could her own family do that? How could the company just throw her away after everything? "That's fucked up," you said, voice shaking with anger. "ADOR is trash for this. Your family… they don't deserve you. And the girls… I don't know what they're thinking, but you didn't do anything wrong. You fought for what you believed in."

She cried even more at that. "Thank you… no one else is saying that…"

"Listen to me," you said firmly. "Come to my place. Right now. My dorm is empty tonight—my members are at their families' houses for the holidays. I'll send you the address. You shouldn't be out there alone."

"Really…? I don't want to bother you…"

"You're not bothering me. I care about you, Danielle. A lot. Please come."

After a long pause, she whispered, "Okay… send it."

P2:

An hour later, there was a soft knock at your dorm door.

You opened it and your heart broke.

Danielle stood there in an oversized hoodie, face red and puffy from crying, eyes swollen, hair messy under her cap. She had a small backpack slung over one shoulder—the only thing she grabbed when she ran. Bruises were already forming on her cheek and arms where her hoodie sleeve rode up. You guided her to the couch, sat her down, and knelt in front of her, holding both her hands.

"Look at me Danielle," you said gently. "This isn't your fault," you told her. "The company used you. Your family doesn't understand what you've been through. But I do. I've seen how hard you work. How kind you are. How much you love your members, your fans… you didn't deserve any of this."

She lifted her tear-streaked face. Even like this, she was beautiful.

Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. "I feel so lost… like everything I worked for is gone." - says her.

You reached up and wiped her tears with your thumb. "Then we'll figure out the next thing together. You're not alone anymore. I promise."

She stared at you for a long moment, eyes searching yours. Then, slowly, she leaned forward and rested her forehead against yours.

"Thank you, Y/N… I don't know what I would've done without you."

You both stayed like that for a while—just both breathing together.

P3:

You stand up from the couch.. "Let me make you some tea. It'll help you calm down a little."

She nods, wiping her eyes. "Thank you, Y/N…"

You go to the small kitchen in your dorm, boiling water and picking her favorite—chamomile with a bit of honey, something you remember her mentioning once during a late-night talk at a company event. As the tea steeps, you glance back at her on the couch. She's curled up, hugging her knees, watching you quietly. Every time your eyes meet, she looks away fast, cheeks turning pink. You catch yourself doing the same—stealing little peeks at her damp hair falling over her face.

Danielle shifts a little on the couch, pressing her thighs together without thinking. While you were making tea, watching you move around the kitchen so caring and gentle… she couldn't help it. Her mind wandered. Imagining you like this every day—coming home to you, you making tea for her like a husband. The thought made her pussy tingle and get wet. Just a little at first, then more. She got so shy she almost couldn't look at you when you handed her the mug. Now she's still wet, the warmth spreading under the borrowed sweatpants. She hopes you can't tell.

You bring two mugs back. She takes the cup with both hands, blowing softly on the hot tea.

"This is perfect," she whispers, taking a small sip.

More silence. More peeks. Your eyes drop to her lips when she drinks. Hers drop to your hands wrapped around the mug, then lower to your chest. You feel your face heat up.

After finishing the tea, she sets the mug down and hugs herself. "I feel… kinda gross," she says quietly. "I was running around all day, crying, sweating… Can I take a bath? Please?"

"Of course," you say right away. "Bathroom's right there. Towels are clean. Take as long as you want."

She smiles gratefully and stands up, disappearing into the bathroom. You hear the door lock softly, then the water start running.

P4:

You sit on the couch, trying to distract yourself with your phone, but your mind won't stop. The sound of water splashing, knowing Danielle is naked in there, just a few meters away… it's too much. You imagine her under the warm water, soap sliding over her smooth skin, her small breasts, her stomach with sexy boobs, down between her legs. Your dick gets harder in your pants. You shift, trying to hide it, feeling guilty but so turned on. You've never been this close to a girl like this. You're a virgin—just like she is.

Inside the bathroom, Danielle sinks into the hot water and lets out a long sigh. It feels so good after everything. But her mind keeps going to you. Waiting outside. So kind. So handsome. She closes her eyes and her hand drifts down her body without meaning to. She touches her wet pussy lightly—still slick from earlier thoughts of you. She bites her lip hard to stop a moan. She imagines your hands instead of hers. Your mouth. How gentle you'd be.

After a long bath, she finally steps out, dries off, and wraps the big towel around herself. It covers her fully, but barely—hanging just above her knees, hugging her chest. Then she remembers: she didn't bring any clothes. The ones she wore here are dirty, sweaty, thrown in the corner.

She opens the bathroom door slowly, peeking out. "Y/N… um…"

You look up—and freeze.

Danielle stands there in only the towel, wet hair dripping over her shoulders, skin pink and glowing from the hot water. The towel clings to her body, showing the shape of her small breasts, her slim waist, her hips. Her legs are bare all the way up. She holds the towel tight against her chest, looking down shyly.

"I… forgot to bring clothes," she says softly, voice shaking a little. "And the ones I had are dirty… Can I borrow something again?" You swallow hard. Your eyes can't help roaming over her skin—her collarbones, her thighs. Your dick throbs in your pants, getting fully hard now. The bulge is obvious. You try to shift to hide it, but it's too late. Danielle notices. Her eyes drop to your lap for a second, then flick back up to your face. Her cheeks go bright red. But she doesn't look away. Instead, she steps closer, still holding the towel. "You… you're hard," she whispers, almost like she's surprised but not mad. More like… curious. Turned on. You feel your face burn. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean— you're just… you look so beautiful. I can't help it." She bites her lip, taking another small step. Now she's right in front of you. "It's okay…" she says quietly. "I… I got wet earlier. When you were making tea for me." Your eyes widen. "You… what?" She nods, looking shy but honest. "Watching you… you were so sweet, so caring. I started thinking about you like… like my boyfriend. Or husband. It made me wet. Down there." She glances down at herself under the towel. "I'm still wet now." The air feels electric. Your heart is pounding. "Danielle…" you whisper.

P5:

She’s talking softly, voice shaking. “I… I don’t know what to do, Y/N… I have nothing to wear, I—”

Mid-sentence, her hands loosen on the towel. She was gesturing a little, too nervous, too focused on your eyes. The towel slips.

It falls straight to the floor.

Danielle is completely naked in front of you (also she is naked for the first time in her life as an adult).

Her body is perfect. Small, soft, glowing from the bath. Her breasts are full and round—motherly, heavy in the most beautiful way, pink nipples already hard from the cool air and nerves. And between her thighs… her pussy is completely shaved, smooth, pink, tight-looking, innocent and untouched. The lips are closed neatly, a little shine of wetness already there from how turned on she got thinking about you.

Your mind goes blank for a second. All you can think is how stunning she is. How you want to hold her, kiss every inch, suck those perfect tits, taste that pretty pussy. You imagine her as a mom one day—your mom—and the thought makes your cock twitch harder.

Danielle gasps, hands flying up—one arm across her boobs, the other hand covering her pussy. Her face goes bright red. She turns her head down, shoulders shaking.

“Oh my god… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…” Her voice cracks. Tears start falling fast. “I’m so embarrassed… I can’t believe this is happening…”

She starts crying again, harder this time. Not just from the towel—it’s everything. Kicked out of NewJeans. Beaten and thrown out by her family. Blocked by her members. And now standing fully naked, exposed, in front of a boy she likes. She feels humiliated, small, broken.

You step forward instantly, heart hurting for her.

“Danielle… hey, hey, look at me.” Your voice is soft but firm.

She shakes her head, crying into her arm, still trying to hide her body.

You gently take the fallen towel from the floor and hold it up, trying to wrap it around her again—respectful, careful.

“No, Danielle, it’s okay. You don’t have to hide from me. We’re safe here. This is home now. I don’t mind you—any part of you. You’re beautiful. Okay?.”

She sobs louder at your words, but slowly looks up.. “I got kicked out… my family hit me… my members don’t want me… and now I’m standing here naked like some stupid girl… I feel so worthless…” Tears stream down her cheeks.

“You’re not worthless,” you say strongly, stepping closer, still holding the towel open for her. “You’re the strongest person I know. You fought for what was right. And now you’re here—with me. I’ve got you. I’ll always have you. Nothing about you is stupid or wrong. Your body… your heart… everything about you is beautiful to me.”

You reach out slowly and cup her wet cheek, thumb wiping her tears.

She now stares at you, breathing shaky, eyes red and full of emotion. You try to cover her up again with the towel respectfully.

Then—but this time, suddenly—she pushes the towel out of your hands. Lets it drop again.

And she crashes into you.

Her naked body presses against your clothed one. Arms wrap around your neck. She pulls your head down and kisses you—hard, desperate, full of everything she’s feeling.

Your lips meet. It’s messy at first—tears and soft cries—but then it deepens fast. First kiss.

Her mouth opens. Your tongue slides in. Hers meets it instantly—swirling, tasting, exchanging saliva in a deep, wet French kiss. She moans softly into your mouth, hands grabbing your hair. You groan, arms wrapping tight around her bare back, pulling her closer. Her hard nipples press against your shirt. Your cock is rock hard now, poking against her stomach through your pants.

She tastes sweet—like honey from the tea, mixed with salt from her tears. The kiss is nasty, loving, hungry. Tongues pushing deep, lips sucking, breathing heavy.

After a long minute, she pulls back slightly, shy again, face flushed.

“I… I'm sorry. I feel I should leave…” she whispers, looking down.

But you’re not letting her pull away.

You grab her waist and spin her around, and push her back onto your bed. She lands on the sheets with a soft gasp, fully naked, legs slightly open, pussy glistening.

You climb over her fast, pinning her gently with your body.

“No running away,” you say low, voice thick with want.

Then you slam your mouth back onto hers.

This kiss is deeper. Rougher. Your tongue fucks into her mouth hard. She whimpers, resists for a second—shy, overwhelmed—but then melts. Her tongue fights back, sucking yours, moaning loud into the kiss. Saliva drips from the corners of your mouths. Her hands pull your hair. Your chest presses against her bare tits.

You break the kiss for a second and take off your shirt over your head—throwing it across the room. Your upper body is bare now—lean from years of dance practice, skin warm. You dive back down, kissing her lips again, then trailing wet kisses down her jaw, her neck. She arches, moaning softly. “Y/N… oh god…” You move lower, mouth reaching her collarbone, then the top of her breasts. Her nipples are right there—hard, pink, begging.

P6:

Your mouth is hot on Danielle's neck now. You kiss slow at first—soft, wet kisses along her jaw, down to her throat. She tilts her head back, moaning quietly, fingers digging into your shoulders.

"Y/N… that feels so good…"

You suck harder, leaving little red marks on her pale skin. She gasps, then your hands slide down to her full breasts—grabbing them firmly. They fit perfectly in your palms, heavy and soft, nipples hard like little pebbles.

You squeeze one breast, pressing it up, while your mouth attacks the other. You suck the boobs & nipple deep into your mouth—hard, wet, noisy. Tongue swirling around it, teeth grazing lightly.

Danielle laughs suddenly, body shaking. "Ah! That tickles… no, don't bite!"

You tease her more—gentle bites on the nipple, then harder sucks. She laughs and squirms under you, half shy, half loving it.

You switch sides—grab the other boob, squeeze it tight, suck the free nipple even harder. She moans louder now, laughs mixing with whimpers.

Then you lift both her arms up over her head, pinning them gently with one hand. Her armpits are exposed—fresh, clean, smooth from the bath, a little shiny.

You dive in.

Your tongue licks slow up one armpit—tasting her skin, warm and clean. She freezes, eyes wide.

"Y/N!? What— oh my god!"

She's shocked, face turning redder than ever. But you're stronger—you hold her arms up easy, overpowering her playful wiggle. You lick deeper, devouring her armpit, tongue flat and wet, eating every inch like it's the best thing you've tasted.

She bursts out laughing, body shaking hard from the tickle. "Stop! Aahha! It's uncomfortable… haha, nooo, that tickles so much!"

But you don't stop. You switch to the other armpit—licking deep, sucking lightly, tongue digging in. She laughs nonstop, legs kicking a little, but she's trapped under you, loving and hating the tickle at the same time.

Finally, you pull back, mouth wet from her skin. You crash back into her lips—deep French kiss, tongue pushing some of her own armpit taste into her mouth.

She moans into the kiss, surprised but kissing back hard, tasting herself on you.

You break away and trail down—kissing her chest, her belly. You stop at her navel. That cute little belly button.

You push your tongue in deep—tongue-fucking her navel, swirling inside, licking every fold.

She squeals again, laughing and shaking. "Y/N! Not there— ahaha, stop, it's too ticklish!"

Her body twists, but you hold her hips down, tongue going deeper into her belly button until she's breathless from laughing and moaning.

Then you move lowe, grabs her thighs and licks them. Then you reach to her pussy.

Finally, you push her legs fully open.

Her pussy is right there—pink, shaved, dripping wet, lips swollen and glistening.

You look up at her once—eyes full of love and hunger.

Then you crash your mouth onto her pussy.

Tongue dives deep inside instantly—tasting her fully, sweet and warm and perfect. You eat her out hard—sucking her clit, tongue fucking her hole, lips sealed around her folds. Slurping loud, messy, devouring everything.

Danielle loses it. Ofcourse It's the first time her pussy is getting eaten.

She moans nonstop—loud, broken cries. "Oh god… Y/N… ahh! Yes… yes…"

Her body shakes uncontrollably—legs trembling, hips bucking up into your face. Tears fall from her eyes—not sad ones, but pure pleasure and love. She feels heaven. Like she's floating.

"I love you.!!!.. I love you so much.!!.." she cries out between moans.

You hold her thighs tight, not letting her escape, sucking her clit hard, tongue thrusting deep.

She loses all control. Her body tenses, shakes violently—and suddenly warm piss flows out straight into your mouth.

You drink it instantly—swallowing every drop, not pulling away even a little. It tastes like her—warm, intimate, everything you want.

She realizes what happened and panics. She just pissed onto your mouth!!

"Oh my god— Y/N! I'm so sorry!!! I didn't mean— I pissed in your mouth… I'm so sorry, that's disgusting, you'll hate me—"

She's crying hard, embarrassed, scared you'll think it's gross.

But you pull up fast—face wet from her piss—and kiss her deep. Tongue kissing, as you let her taste her own piss from your mouth. She freezes, then moans softly, tasting it, kissing back harder.

You break the kiss and look into her eyes. "I loved drinking your piss," you say low, voice full of love. "Everything from you tastes perfect."

Her face goes bright red. She hides it in her hands, shy laugh escaping. "You're so naughty, Y/N!"

You grin and kiss her again—soft this time, then deep.

She suddenly pushes you back—stronger than you expect.

"Enough!" she says, voice playful but firm. "You ate me too much… now it's my turn."

She flips you over fast—pushes you flat on your back.

Your cock is rock hard, straining against your pants, tenting up obviously. Danielle kneels between your legs, eyes on the bulge, biting her lip. She reaches for your waistband…

P7:

Danielle kneels between your legs, eyes wide. Your pants are still on, but the bulge is impossible to hide—your cock strains hard against the fabric, twitching every time she looks at it.

She bites her lip, hands shaking a little as she reaches for your waistband.

“Let me take care of you now, Y/N…” she whispers. “You made me feel so good… I want to make you feel the same.”

You nod, breathing heavy. “Okay, baby… whatever you want.”

She pulls your pants and boxers down slowly. Your cock springs free—hard, thick, veins pulsing, tip already leaking pre-cum. You’re shaved mostly, but there’s some hair at the base and on your balls.

Danielle stares for a second, face red. “It’s… so big,” she says softly, almost to herself. Then she leans in, inhaling deeply. She loves your smell—musky, warm, all you.

Her small hand wraps around the base. She strokes slow at first, then lowers her mouth.

First kiss on the tip—soft, shy. Then she opens wide and takes you in. Warm. Wet. Perfect.

She sucks gently at first, lips tight around the head, tongue swirling. She tries so hard to please you—bobbing slow, taking more each time. You moan loud, head falling back.

“Fuck… Danielle… that feels amazing…”

She smiles around your cock, eyes looking up at you, happy she’s making you feel good. She giggles softly, the vibration making you throb in her mouth. Then she pulls off with a wet pop and moves lower.

She lifts your cock and goes for your balls.

One in her mouth—sucking gently, tongue licking all over. Then the other. She inhales deep again, moaning like she’s addicted to your scent.

She can’t stop. Her love is overwhelming—she wants every part of you. Then, without warning, she pushes your legs up and apart.

You feel her hot breath on your ass.

“Danielle— wait, you don’t have to—”

But she’s already there. She's about you lick your asshole.

Her hands spread your cheeks. Her tongue flicks out—first light lick over your hairy asshole.

You gasp hard. It’s dirty, hairy, not perfectly clean—but she doesn’t care. She licks again. Deeper this time. Tongue flat, dragging slow over your hole.

“Danielle… hey, why are you— oh fuck…”

It feels insane. Better than anything. Pure heaven. Her warm, wet tongue circling your asshole, pushing in a little, cleaning you, tasting you—no matter how dirty.

“I love you so much, Y/N…” she says between licks, voice muffled. “I want all of you… every part…” You try to resist at first—hands pushing lightly at her head.

“Baby, you don’t need to do this… it’s dirty…” But she shakes her head, pushes deeper. Tongue pressing inside your hole now—real rimjob, raw and deep.

That’s it. You break.

The pleasure is too much. You grab her hair—push her face harder into your ass.

“Yes… fuck, Danielle… deeper… lick my asshole deeper…”

She moans into you, tongue thrusting in and out, sucking your rim, cleaning every bit with love. You feel her nose buried between your cheeks, her mouth devouring your hole like it’s the sweetest thing.

Daniellie clarifies she's soo much in love with you now. She wants to make you feel the best. You’re in heaven. You love her more than ever.

After minutes of this—your legs shaking—you finally pull her up.

She sits back on her knees, face flushed, lips wet, a little spit on her chin.

For a second, shame hits her. She realizes what she just did—licked a guy’s dirty, hairy asshole. Deep. Like an animal. Her eyes water. “Oh god… I’m disgusting… I can’t believe I did that…”

But before she can spiral, you stand up fast. You grab her jaw—firm, sudden.

Then you push your cock straight into her mouth.

Deep and Rough.

You facefuck her hard—hips thrusting, cock slamming the back of her throat.

She gags instantly—eyes watering, throat bulging. Saliva drips down her chin. She tries to breathe, hands on your thighs, but you don’t stop.

“Take it, baby… you wanted all of me… now take this too.”

You fuck her mouth long—deep thrusts, holding her head still. She chokes, gurgles, even pukes a little—warm spit and bile dripping down her chest. But she doesn’t pull away. She takes it. For you. Finally, you pull out—strings of spit connecting her lips to your cock.

You grab her body, throw her onto the bed—on her back, missionary. Legs spread wide. Your cock—wet from her throat—lines up with her tight, virgin pussy. You look at her once—tears in her eyes, face messy, body shaking.

“I love you Danielle” you say low. Then you push in finally.

P8:

You’re on top of her in missionary, cock pressed against her soaked, virgin pussy. Danielle looks up at you—eyes wet, lips trembling, body shaking with need and fear. You push in—hard, no slow teasing.

“I love you, Y/N…” she whispers. “Please… be inside me.” You nod, kiss her deep once more, then line up.

The head pops past her tight entrance. She’s so small, so tight—her walls grip you like a vice. Danielle screams.

A loud, sharp cry rips from her throat—“Ahhh! Y/N! It hurts!”

Tears flood her eyes instantly. Her nails dig into your back. She tries to bite her lip, muffle the next screams, but they come anyway—high, broken whimpers and sobs as you force deeper.

You don’t stop. You thrust rough—halfway in, then almost all the way. Her pussy stretches around you, burning hot, squeezing so hard it almost hurts you too.

“It hurts… it hurts so much…” she cries, face twisted in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks. But her legs wrap around your waist—she doesn’t push you away. She pulls you closer.

“Hug me… please hug me tight…” she sobs.

You drop your full weight onto her, arms wrapping under her body, crushing her into the mattress. Your chest presses against her soft boobs. You bury your face in her neck—sucking hard on her skin, then moving to her armpit again, licking the salty sweat there as you thrust deeper.

She screams again—louder this time—but muffled against your shoulder. “Y/N! Oh god… you’re so deep…”

You pound rough now—full strokes, hips slamming into her. Her tight pussy fights every thrust, but gets wetter, hotter. You suck one of her nipples into your mouth—hard, biting lightly—while fucking her without mercy.

Danielle cries nonstop—loud sobs mixed with moans. Tears soak the pillow.

You kiss her tears, suck her neck, her boobs—switching sides, leaving marks everywhere.

After minutes of rough missionary, you pull out suddenly. She gasps at the emptiness. You flip her over—no, wait. You sit up, pull her on top. You make her ride you. She straddles you slow, legs shaking. You're now fucking her in cowgirl position —chests pressed together, arms wrapped tight around each other. Skin on skin. Hearts beating as one. She starts moving—slow at first, grinding, then bouncing harder. You thrust up to meet her—rough, deep. You’re both hugging so tight it’s hard to breathe. Her boobs squash against your chest. Your hands grip her ass, spreading her cheeks as she rides.

She moans into your ear—loud, constant. “Y/N… yes… harder…” Suddenly her body tenses. She freezes. Then she squirts a lot.. Warm liquid gushes out around your cock, soaking your stomach, thighs, the bed. She shakes violently, crying out in shock and pleasure.

“Oh god— I’m sorry— I’m squirting!”

Before she can recover, it happens again.

A long, uncontrollable stream of piss flows out—warm, endless. It floods everything—your cock, your balls, your legs, the sheets. The bed is soaked. The smell of her piss fills the room.

“No… no no no… I peed again… shit. The beds are dirty!!” She starts crying hard, trying to pull off you. “I’m so gross… the bed is wet… it smells… I’m sorry, Y/N…” But you don’t let her go.

You grab her head, pull her down, and shove your soaked cock—covered in her squirt and piss—straight into her mouth.

She gags instantly as you facefuck her again—rough, fast, holding her hair tight.

“Clean it, baby,” you groan. “Taste yourself on me.”

She chokes, tears streaming, but sucks hard—tongue cleaning every drop of her own fluids off your dick. After a minute of rough throat-fucking, you pull out.

You flip her over fast—onto her stomach, then pull her hips up, in Doggy style.

Her ass is up, face down in the wet sheets. Pussy dripping. Tiny, pink asshole exposed—tight, virgin, untouched. You spread her ass cheeks wide.

“Now this hole,” you say low, voice thick with lust.

P9:

Danielle is on all fours, ass up, face buried in the soaked sheets. Her tiny pink asshole winks at you—completely virgin, super tight, barely a pucker. You try press the head of your cock against it, still slick from her mouth and pussy. But you notice her hole doesn’t budge. It’s way too tight.

You love her too much to hurt her badly. You don’t want to tear her, damage her. This has to feel good for her too—even if it’s rough. So, you grab her ass cheeks hard—spread them wide open. Next, you lean in. Her ass is a delicious cake anyways.

First, you smell her—deep inhale right against her hole. Warm, musky, a little sweaty from everything you’ve done. Intimate. Hers. Then your tongue comes out.

You lick slow—flat drag from her pussy up over her asshole. Danielle jolts, whole body shaking. “Y/N! No— that’s… that’s where I… oh my god, that’s so dirty!”. You start eating her asshole, licking it with your tongue.

She’s dying of embarrassment. Her face burns red. She tries to close her legs, but you hold her open strong. You don’t care how dirty it is. It tastes strong—sweaty, bitter, disgusting in the best way—because it’s Danielle. You love every part of her. You spit thick into her hole—then push your tongue inside.

Tongue-fucking her asshole slow at first, then faster. Swirling, thrusting, cleaning and wetting her from the inside. You eat her shithole like it’s the sweetest thing—hours feel like minutes. Tongue deep as it can go, nose buried between her cheeks.

Danielle shakes nonstop—shyness, tickle, pleasure all mixed. “It’s so embarrassing… that’s where poop comes out… and you’re licking it…” she whimpers, voice breaking. But slowly, her body relaxes. Her hips start pushing back a little.

It feels like heaven to her—like the deepest, most intense massage on her most private spot. Her moans get louder, softer. “Y/N… oh god… don’t stop… it feels so good…” You keep eating her asshole until it’s soaking wet, loosened just a little from your tongue and spit.

Finally, then you stand up on your knees behind her. You line your cock up again to her asshole. This time—you push. The head forces in—pop. Danielle screams. A full, lung-tearing scream—“AAAAAHHH! Y/N! IT HURTS! IT’S TOO BIG!” Her eyes go huge, mouth open wide in shock. Tears explode down her face. Her legs go weak—knees buckling, almost collapsing. But you don’t stop. You grip her hips tight and thrust deeper—inch by inch, forcing your cock into her impossibly tight virgin asshole.

She screams again and again—raw, broken, crying so hard her whole body shakes. “IT’S TEARING ME! OH GOD— MY ASS— IT HURTS SO MUCH!”… she doesn’t say stop still, but rather she takes it.

You start pounding harder. Her asshole grips you like nothing else—burning hot, squeezing so tight it almost hurts you too. Her screams slowly akso change. The pain mixes with something else.

Her cries turn into moans—high, shaky, full of love.

“Ahh… ahh… Y/N… it’s starting to feel… good…” she pushes back now. Just a little.

You rail her harder—full thrusts, balls slapping against her pussy. Then you grab her body—lift her up.

You pull her back against your chest—her full weight in your arms, legs dangling, ass impaled deep on your cock.

You hug her tight from behind—one arm around her chest, squeezing her boobs, the other around her waist. You bounce her on your cock—pounding her asshole upward, deep, rough. She’s completely submissive now, reduced to a shaking, moaning fucktoy in your arms.

Her head falls back on your shoulder. Mouth open. Eyes rolled up. Drool dripping. Danielle submits, “Y/N… I’m yours… all yours… my ass… everything…”

You kiss her neck, bite her shoulder, thrust harder. She feels full—owned—loved beyond words. You feel her body surrender completely.

P10:

You’re holding Danielle fully in the air, her small body impaled on your cock, asshole stretched wide around you. She’s limp in your arms—moaning, crying, completely surrendered. Every thrust upward makes her gasp, her back arched against your chest.

You want to finish inside her where it matters most. Without warning, you pull out of her gaping asshole—slow, making her whimper at the emptiness—and lower her just enough to line up with her pussy again. You start fucking her pussy now.

In one rough drop, you slam her down onto your cock, burying deep into her soaked, used pussy. Danielle screams again—half pain, half relief. “Y/N! Oh god— yes— fill me there…” You start railing her pussy hard in the same lifted position—arms locked around her, bouncing her full weight up and down your shaft. Her legs dangle uselessly, toes curling. Her boobs bounce against your arms. You bite her neck, suck her shoulder, growl into her ear.

You finally say some rough stuff: “This pussy is mine now… I’m gonna breed you…”…..Danielle nods frantically, tears still falling, but eyes full of love.

You fuck her like that for minutes—deep, brutal strokes, her pussy squelching loud around you. She clenches hard, milking you, pushing you closer. You feel your cum building—hot, unstoppable. Can’t hold back anymore. Then you throw her down onto the bed—hard and force your cock deeper inside her pussy. Missionary again. Deepest possible.

You pound her without mercy—hips slamming, bed shaking, skin slapping loud. Danielle’s mouth opens in a loud scream at first, then a long, broken moan. “Y/N… I feel you… so deep… please…”

You go harder—faster—deeper. Your balls tighten and with a final roar, you bury yourself to the root and cum. Thick, hot ropes shoot straight into her—pulse after pulse, flooding her womb. You grind against her cervix, making sure every drop stays deep inside.

Danielle lets out her last, longest moan—high, trembling, full of love and release.

“Ahhhh… Y/N… I feel it… your warm cum… inside me… so much…”

Her body shakes one final time. Her pussy flutters around you, milking the last of your seed. Tears roll down her temples into her hair. You collapse on top of her—both panting, sweaty, trembling.

The bed is destroyed—sheets soaked with squirt, piss, sweat, cum. The room smells like raw sex. But neither of you care.

You pull a blanket over your naked bodies. She curls into your chest, head under your chin. It’s quiet now. Just breathing. Hearts slowing together.

Danielle places your hand on her lower belly—right over her womb. “I think… you did something inside me really,” she says softly, shy smile through tired eyes. “I feel so full… like something already started.” You kiss her forehead and realize, you've breed a girl. “Good. You’re gonna be the most beautiful mom.”.. She blushes, hides her face in your neck.

But then reality creeps in—just a little.

You’re both idols (well, she’s not anymore, but you still are). If anyone finds out—if pictures leak, if someone saw her come here—your career could be over. HYBE would bury you. Scandals destroy lives. You stroke her back gently. “We’ll be careful,” you say quietly. “No one will know until we’re ready. I’ll protect you. Whatever happens, we’re together now.” She nods, trusting you completely.

Outside, the world is still falling apart for her—kicked out, family gone, friends like Minji, Hanni, others, silent.

“Well.” Danielle takes a step closer. Then another. Suddenly making you feel like a stranger in your own apartment. “If you really had a problem with it, you’d have changed the door code by now. Or told my sister what we’ve been up to.”

You need to correct her before this can get any further out of hand, there’s no we to tell anyone anything about, but—look. She’s half-right. You were going to get around to changing the locks. Eventually. The other part, the nuclear option, the sister of it all—“You know I can’t do that.”

“Then you’re just going to have to deal with me until you can,” she says, casually.

Doing that thing all pretty girls seem to have built into their genetic coding. Standing there, posing, like she’s the sum of a dozen happy accidents—the hip cocked just so, the hand at her impossibly tiny waist. The wet hair, the pout, the fucking collarbone.

Accidents—yeah right. 

Anyone else but her, and maybe you’d buy it. 

“Besides, I’m not completely naked,” she adds, smile sharpening into a grin, and—fuck.

She is far too gorgeous for her own good. She is also extremely, without a shadow of a doubt, bad news, persona non grata, unbelievably off-limits.

“I'm wearing your towel, after all.”

—

(Okay, okay, okay.

You’re well aware you’re the only person on this planet that wouldn’t be delighted to have Danielle stepping out of their shower.

But maybe consider the following points:

1)      You’re still raw, wound’s barely scabbed over from the last woman you let into your home;

2)      Your whole career kinda rides on the fact that you keep your head fucking straight and free from any distractions, especially the kind that’s crazy enough to break into your apartment and hot enough to make it seem like a perfectly good idea; and

3)      If you were going to ignore points 1 and 2, and just decide you’re going to let that towel drop and let whatever happens, happen (hopefully something with a lot of moaning and a lot of sweat and a lot of giving up on what little modicum of peace you’ve managed to claw back from the world)—she’s your ex-girlfriend’s sister, for fuck’s sake.

Counterpoint:

She’s Danielle fucking Marsh.)

 —

Clearly you should’ve ended things a week ago when she first showed up—kicked that irredeemably cute, tight ass out of your apartment and slammed the door behind her. 

You should’ve seen Danielle for the walking, talking red flag that she is: a jump-scare in skin-tight jeans, or a barely-there top, or more frequently than necessary (or not frequently enough, depending on how honest you’re feeling) in nothing but your towel that’s now clearly found its home around her razor-thin waist.

The girl is apparently allergic to clothes.

“I’m gonna make some ramyun,” she’s calling from the kitchen, rifling through your fridge. Voice carrying over the sound of a week’s worth of meal-prepping and pre-blended protein smoothies being carelessly shuffled out of order. “You want some too?”

No, not a ‘would it be okay for me to help myself’, or even a simple ‘do you mind?’. Just straight up making herself at home, helping herself to your bathroom, your kitchen, and after a very strong suggestion, one of your old sweatshirts.

Your casa; now her casa. Or something like that.

“I don’t have any ramyun,” is your answer. It comes out weak.

To that, she whips around, cradling in her arms her bounty—a pack of noodles, a tub of kimchi, and a cut of pork belly you’ve been saving for a special cheat day. Throws you a far-too-easy grin that you’re realising is her signature. “I know. I picked some up on the way here.”

“Of course you did.”

“It’s a good idea to eat normal people food every once in a while, instead of whatever this is,” she says, nodding her head to your stacks of perfectly portioned containers; your towers of health and virtue.

“I think I’m good,” you reply, cautiously. Resisting the urge to let your eyes wander and get caught for the nth time. Don’t want to give her even more ammunition in her campaign against your very clumsily-established boundaries.

At least not until you’ve made your cursory attempt to get her the fuck out of here. Trying (and inevitably failing) to come up with a compelling argument that would convince her to leave. Something to illustrate that this isn’t going anywhere, she doesn’t do a thing for you, let alone register as anything other than a mild strain on your already tenuous relationship with your ex-girlfriend.

Yeah, you don’t even believe that shit yourself.

Regardless, recognise that your first instincts, like always, are terrible ones. Ignore all the parts of your brain that are telling you to do things that could end with you buried in some unmarked grave along the DMZ. Ignore how good she looks wrapped up in your oversized sweatshirt; how it looks so lovely draped over her body, stopping short of the tops of her thighs, letting the damp, pale skin peek out and glisten and—

Fuck.

Maybe you should take the sweater back. Peel it right off her body and—

Again. Fuck.

“Trust me, you’ll want some. Everyone thinks they don't, right up until they do,” she says, and there she goes, pursing her lips together, throwing you a wink. God knows what she’s insinuating.

“Do whatever you want,” you’re saying, leaving out the implied—‘not like I can stop you’.

“Careful with your promises,” she’s laughing to herself, turning away and setting her culinary treasures next to your stove. “I just might have to hold you to them.”

That you pick up on immediately. But she lets it rest, putting a pause on the flirting-that’s-totally-not-flirting, busying herself with the task on hand. Reaching for your pots, your spices, navigating around your kitchen like she’s done it a million times before. So at ease, so… natural, in your space.

It’s eerily intimate.

Wearing your clothes, cooking for you, chatting over her shoulder as if she’s the sister that you have the years of history, of baggage with. First times and fuckups. All the messy, complicated shit in between.

(No matter how well she fits the role, a reminder: she’s not.)

There’s all these incidental miracles too—a curtain of chestnut brown hair sweeping aside as she stirs, a hint of bare shoulder, a column of porcelain along her neck. The sag of her collar until it’s falling down one arm, and there’s no sign of a top underneath, no strap, nothing to curb your imagination from running wild.

And it's all extremely unfair, how the hemline rises with each sway, how it clings right to her waist and curves around the flare of her hips. It wasn’t built for someone like her, wasn’t designed to withstand being worn like this.

But it tries it’s best. You do too.

You really should force your eyes elsewhere. The living room, the TV, the window. Anywhere but her. But you can’t help yourself.

“So,” she starts, happy to let the dish come together on its own. Asks, apropos of nothing, “You ever wonder why my sister never wanted to leave us alone together?”

You blink, torn from the hypnosis of her bare skin. “What?”

Danielle’s facing you again, leaning over the kitchen island. Playing with a loose strand of hair, looping it around her finger. Taking the dumb look on your face as an answer. “I mean, before all these little hangouts we never even had a full conversation, just me and you. One-on-one. Isn’t that weird?”

No. It never occurred to you, because it’s not weird at all.

Because Danielle is, and this is plain fact at this point—not in any way, shape or form exaggeration—unfathomably, quite offensively hot, and very much aware of the devastating effect she has on the people around her just by simply existing.

You hardly trust yourself at the moment.

“Then again, she probably knew what I’d do if given the chance.”

Danielle bites her lip, and you make the mistake of staring for just a second too long.

Yeah, it makes a lot of fucking sense.

(Back in the kitchen, the pot boils over.)

—

(It was somewhere close to the end of things; when it became more common to talk in loud accusations than sweet whispers, that your ex was telling you—“I do love her. But I swear sometimes, I can’t stand her.”

“Who?” You’d asked, because playing dumb was much easier than accidentally stumbling into some new argument you weren’t quite prepared for.

“Dani.”

“Your sister?” you replied, too quickly, and without thinking, “I don’t know—she seems sweet.”

There’s a pause, a tension in the car and your hand clenches around the steering wheel as you realise what you said, and the entire world holds its breath. Then, she laughs. Something sad and bitter that makes you wince. “Sweet? Yeah, sure. She’s a fucking angel.”

And before she can even elaborate on that, she’s looking out the window, leaving you to wonder how you’re at fault this time.

So, you decide then and there to never mention her again, never even look in said sister’s direction when she’s around. Push her out of your mind completely. As far as you’re concerned, she never even existed.

That lasts right up until the next time you see Danielle, and she’s all smiles and friendliness and barely-dressed and so painfully attractive and so very happy to see you. And sure, maybe you smile back, reciprocate the hug, blush when she kisses your cheek, hold your hand on her lower back for that extra millisecond too long, bounding over that ephemeral line and right into flagrantly inappropriate territory.

All the while, somewhere over your shoulder your ex spits out the corner of her mouth—“Typical.”)

—

“I thought I already explained?” Danielle starts, the next time she shows up uninvited, half-naked, bright and early and ready to completely fuck up your day.

Despite the number of times you’ve witnessed the same routine, it still floors you every time she sashays into your kitchen, towel draped low on her body, wrapped around her ridiculously tiny frame, water droplets clinging to her flushed skin like a layer of glitter.

Fresh from a shower. She’s always just fresh from a shower.

She’s already rolling her eyes at whatever she’s about to say. Takes a deep breath, then: “There’s a whole thing going on with my living situation at the moment. You probably don’t need to know anything other than sharing a bathroom with four other girls can be a bit of a nightmare, and your place is so conveniently close, and your water pressure is actually unbelievably good, so—”

You’re very slowly realising that she’s never imagined a reality where this would actually be a problem for you. “And so you decided that the next best option was a complete stranger’s apartment?”

Danielle drums her fingers over your kitchen counter. Your eyes follow the beat. “You’re not a complete stranger.”

“You don’t even know me,” you say, trying to play the part of the responsible adult. Danielle scoffs, because you’re failing spectacularly.

“Well, according to my sister, I have nothing to worry about when it comes to you,” she says, adding, “she told me the two of you broke up because you were gay.”

“She said what?”

She recites, “He prefers rolling around with men than with me—were her exact words.”

“M-M-A. I do MMA.”

“Hm.” Danielle’s baring teeth now, a dangerous slant to her smile. “Is that a new addition to the acronym? LGBTQI-MMA? What colours are your flag?”

“It’s fighting,” you clarify, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck. “Mixed martial arts. I’m not—not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I’m not—”

“Sure.” She pushes herself upright and rounds the counter, swinging herself around and over to you. “And here I thought you had all those muscles for show.”

“I’m very straight.”

Her laugh fills the room, makes it warmer, the air sweeter somehow. You choke on it. “Good to know.”

She closes the distance in much fewer steps than you’d like, bare feet gliding across heated flooring, until you’re forced to notice that she’s taken the liberty of using all your shower products too, and you’re starting to rationalise the perfectly normal response it's eliciting. The shortness of breath, the thumping in your chest, the stickiness of your palms.

All perfectly normal.

Stand your ground, what’s the worst that could happen? You’re taller, probably twice her weight. You could pick her up and throw her out if you had to. Or onto one of the many softer surfaces in your apartment.

Erase that thought.

“If it really helps, maybe all we need to do is get to know each other better,” she says, all honeyed-sweet and fucking hazardous, and when she’s this close, you can’t avoid looking.

You try not to, but you’re absorbing all the details—how are her lips this pink, how do they look this soft? How does her skin look so smooth, how does vanilla and coconut and sandalwood smell so much better on her?

It’s fucking troubling how much of her sister you can see in her, except it’s all skewed in directions that make your brain short-circuit. Similar eyes, same shape, but darker; less warmth, more heat. That same mouth, the curve is a mirror when she smiles, but on her its natural state is a pout or a grin over anything close to reassuring.

The dial’s been turned up, the sliders are all wrong, no one should look this good with this little effort.

“For starters, how about we just exchange numbers? So I can call ahead before I come up next time. Avoid any unnecessary surprises,” she throws out, noncommittal. “Even though that’s the best part.”

It should stun you, the smoothness of her request. So innocent in its construction. Yet she loads it heavy, suggestion stacked on suggestion.

She continues, when she catches the look on your face, “I promise I’ll only contact you in strictly emergency shower situations. Would that be okay?”

“That’s fine,” you answer, making liars of you both.

“Then it’s decided then!” She practically cheers, jumps in your arms, wraps you in a hug. Looks up at you, all smiles, all teeth; all wide eyes and hopefulness and fucking hell she’s so close.

Instinct has you leaning closer, has you maybe letting your hands rest a little too comfortably around her waist.

Panic has you recognising that you need to get out of here before she catches on to the involuntarily reactions she’s coaxing out of you. Eyes dipping down to the towel, heart bursting out of your chest, and your co—

“It goes without saying, but you can contact me too. For anything. Emergency or not.”

Yep, it’s about time to get the fuck out of here. Peeling her arms off you, bailing on this conversation before you start agreeing to even more things you know you shouldn’t. You declare, rather robotically, “I should be on my way out.”

“Guys waiting for you to roll around with?”

You sigh, “Something like that.”

“Well, I’m always available if you want someone more fun to practice with,” she says, before amending. “Or, on.”

Again, this can absolutely not happen. You’re not usually one for rules, but it goes without saying—no fucking around with your ex’s sister. It’s like the golden rule of dating, or human decency, or something.

Besides, it’s not really about you that she's into. It’s about the idea of you—the one person who won’t immediately give her what she wants.

That’s all.

She’s just a brat that’s dealing with denial for the first time. Right?

Danielle pouts when it’s clear that you’re not going to feed into any more of her flirty delusions. Twirls on her heels, the towel dancing around her waist. You’re pretty sure you could write a whole essay on the physics of it all.

“Guess there’s no point in me sticking around if you’re not going to be here.”

You avert your eyes. No need to watch her disappear into her room.  

Correction—your room.

But then you hear it, and your head whips around so quick you get fucking whiplash.

Witnessing Danielle time her exit just right so the last thing you see before she rounds the corner is the sweep of her back, the drop of her towel, and the flash of her tight, bare ass that will burn itself into the back of your retinas and stay there for the rest of the day.

—

(You really should’ve seen this coming.

Or maybe you did, and the lesser angels of your nature thought it wouldn’t be so bad to let it happen.

Whatever, it’s too late to come back now because Danielle’s taken to sending you messages throughout her day. All mundane updates; what she’s doing, who she’s with, what’s she eaten for breakfast, lunch, dinner. Little things throughout the day that somehow remind her—through bizarre and barely tangential logic—of you.

You read them, pretend to ignore them.

You choose not to reply.

She chooses to start sending photos.)

—

It really, really doesn’t help that Danielle is everywhere.

She’ll be in your kitchen, your living room, your bedroom when she conveniently forgot to bring a change of clothes and the ones that she came over in are way too sweaty and sticky to put back on. Hopefully you don’t mind washing it for her?

You’ll leave your apartment thinking you’re finally free, only to find her flashing that grin on giant screens hanging off buildings, or on the side of the buses you take to the gym, or on the cover of every magazine at the convenience store where you used to dive in for a quick snack without ever even having to worry about her existence.

Her music plays in the café you get your afternoon caffeine fix; her commercials show up on every single app on your phone—she’s selling everything from headphones to sneakers to fucking bank loans. All with that same sweet, annoying, lovely voice that haunts you with unabashed innuendo and questions about where you keep your fabric softener and why your apartment is completely barren of anything that could be considered a snack.

It's a sick, sick joke the universe is playing on you. Throwing her in your face every five minutes when all you can think about is how she looked that morning when she took her time putting herself together—just lounging on your couch in nothing but a pair of glasses and a towel, kicking her legs up in the air while she laughs over some meme that's completely skipped your generation.

The legs. Can’t help but think what it would be like to run your tongue over them.

She'd probably be thrilled to let you try.

“Hey,” Danielle says, choosing the moment when you’re trying to figure out just how high her legs go to catch your attention. “Did you and my sister ever do it on this couch?”

“What?” —the fuck.

“Just asking,” Danielle sing-songs, taking the opportune moment to adjust the knot on the towel. Higher up her chest, higher up her thighs. “It’s got good cushioning, you know.”

“That’s,” and really, stop right there, because you’re not about to rehash the greatest hits with her. Not going to even get close to dipping your toes into an innocent, casual chat about ghosts long exorcised—about all the nights you had your ex spread out like a buffet, her legs around your neck, her nails digging into your back; her whispers and pleas, the sweet taste of her—and fuck, now the memory of her face is twisting and morphing and you’re seeing Danielle in those same positions and—

You shake your head, clearing the fog.

"Not going there."

Danielle feigns innocence, batting those doe-eyes. You’re already sick of that sugary-sweet giggle. "Where?"

“Anywhere. With you.”

“You never know, it could help,” she’s teasing. Possibly the most dangerous sentence you’ve ever heard. “Replace all the old memories with some new ones? A little less her, a little more," she pauses for great emphasis, and it feeds right into the mouth of the devil on your shoulder, "me?"

“Danielle—”

“You know, you can just call me Dani. All my close friends do.”

Alarm bells are blaring. Take the easy way out, just leave again. Maybe leave forever. Get out of here and don’t look back. She can have your apartment as far as you’re concerned—the backseat of your car isn’t that uncomfortable.

But before you can make a break for the door—"I just meant we could watch a movie or something.”

And again, you find yourself asking so often these days, “What?”

“You know a little bit of Netflix,” she suggests, and you’re already anticipating the grin before it spreads across her face, because she’s far too smart to play dumb, “and a bit of chill?”

“Danielle—” you try once more, then correcting before you can think better of it, “Dani.”

Danielle blinks. Adjusts herself. Pats the cushion next to her.

Her legs spread, then cross over each other. Just to give you some room.

The towel holds on for dear life.

—

It all goes to shit in a matter of days.

Truthfully, you can’t be blamed for this one, no matter how predictably it plays out.

Danielle’s fogged up your mind with thoughts you’d rather not be having, really been hard at work convincing you of just how available she is.

(Translation: Look at me, aren't I just so damn fuckable?)

Even though it’s all been common knowledge from the get-go, her cards have been on the table since she first stepped out of the steam and rented a space inside your brain, whether you want to be honest with yourself or not.

She wants you, badly.

You want her too.

It’s all you think about.

So, it’s no surprise your coach sends you home early from training after taking one too many unanswered shots to the head. Pushes you out the door and yells at you to get over or on top of whatever the fuck is going on in your personal life.

You know he’s right.

And it’s in this state, where your brain is mildly-concussed and filled with the images of Danielle—the ones of her wearing next to nothing except that fucking wry, knowing smirk of hers, like she’s just counting down the moments until you finally, inevitably give in—that you stumble into your apartment.

You don’t even have the strength to close the door properly.

You barely notice the closed blinds, the heating turned up too high, the light coming from your room, the scent of something much more sweeter; something that doesn’t belong here at all.

No, you don’t notice anything at all—until you do.

A moan from down the hall.

Louder as you approach, joined by noises of shuffling bedsheets, the unmistakable rhythmic squeaks of your mattress. The slick sounds of skin on skin, and—oh fuck.

You push open your door.

Danielle’s there to greet you, flat on your bed, fingers deep inside her cunt.

Wearing your sweatshirt and nothing else.

Crying out your name.

It’s game over.

Every filthy, lurid though, every half-imagined fantasy, everything your brain has conjured up whenever you've caught a glimpse of Danielle's bare skin, brought to life.

Fucking gorgeous, pretty, even like this. Wrecking herself so sweetly, fucking herself with her fingers so deeply and carefully, half-naked and wet and begging.

“Ah, God—” She’s sinking into herself, not even registering your presence, nor the fact that the door’s even opened.

Her face is locked into this smile, and you clock it as the same one she wears every time she catches you watching her, every time she manages to make that crack in your armour widen just a smidge. It’s a trap. A challenge. An invitation.

You hover by the door, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to do anything but watch as she works herself over, eyes fixed shut, cheeks red, burning hot.

You shouldn’t look.

You should turn around.

You should do anything but stay.

But you don’t.

You just witness her, in your bed, chanting your name in tempo with her own fingers. Your body betrays you—you take a step forward.

Her eyes open. Unsurprised. “Hey.”

She keeps going.

One more step couldn’t hurt. Moth to her flame, fly to her sweet, sticky trap.

The sweatshirt is a crime against humanity, hiding her like that. You could reach down, rip it off her, expose all her secrets to the cold air. Finally see it all.

But instead, you keep your eyes trained, transfixed, as she arches her back, her breasts pushing up against the cotton, points of her nipples poking through. Abs—chiselled, firm, tense—revealed inch by glorious inch.

Your name on her lips, moaned into your ears.

And her pussy. So pretty. Pink, plump. Perfect.

Sopping wet and making a mess of your bedsheets. The mattress will never be the same. 

“Welcome home,” she gasps out. Loving this turn of events. Spreads her legs wider, no intention to stop. Just going on and on.

She stretches out your name for good measure, fucking herself faster. Fingers plunging in and out of herself, hips rocking back and forth. Eyes locking onto yours, daring you to do something about it.

“How’s the view?” She’s grinning, aiming for seductive, nonchalant, but her voice is all broken-up and fucked up. Too turned on to be anything but earnest.

“Fucking hell,” you find your own voice much the same. Really, it’s a miracle that your lungs aren’t clogged up with the thick, heavy air that’s settled in your room. Or that your tongue isn’t a dry, useless slab of meat in your mouth.

“I’d say it’s rather—gah—” Danielle says, taking your words, twisting them into something that sounds like a whine as her eyes slowly shut, a fresh wave of pleasure washing over her. She opens them again, focuses on you. “Heavenly.”

You should have more to say. Something locked and loaded to navigate your way out of this specific situation, because face it, this was always going to happen one way or another the day you let her have free reign of your apartment, of your life, of your thoughts.

Your mouth opens, hoping something disarming and with enough wit comes out to end this whole farce, only Danielle beats you to the punch—“I bet it tastes heavenly too.”

And then the words come to you. You grit out, “Stop.”

Danielle laughs. Unconvinced. “Why should I?”

You repeat. “Stop.”

She just keeps fucking herself. “Make me.”

“Stop,” you let your voice come out deep, firm. Like it's a threat. Taking the closest ankle in your grip, lifting her leg up.

Danielle gasps. Her hand stills.

“Stop and let me.”

Danielle’s whispering now. “Then go ahead.”

You’ve never imagined yourself as that guy. You’re a romantic, you swear. Grand gestures, sweet kisses, candles, roses, the works, making love slow and soft until the sun comes up.

Nothing like this.

Like wanting to ruin something beautiful. Take the hottest girl you’ve ever met, probably ever lived. Cross lines so thick you’d typically need a buzzsaw to cut through. Make her forget about anything that isn’t you, anything that isn’t you. Make her need you in the worst way.

Make her come apart in your fucking hands.

The look on Danielle’s face gives you all the permission you need. Her words are just the cherry on top. “Please.”

You start small.

A kiss on the sole of her foot, and Danielle’s already trembling, giggling, at the light touch. More kisses, building, keen attention on the arch, the ankle, the calf, and she’s shivering. Muscles tensing under your lips, body tightening in anticipation.

She’s a ticking time bomb, was on edge when you walked in, so you don’t drag it out. Just long enough to make her whine. Get a few, “God you’re so—”, gasps and half-formed sentences that die the higher you get.

You kiss your way past her knee, and she’s properly whimpering now. Her fault that her legs are so long. A ladder of sweetness, salt on her skin, and you’re starving. She is right. It tastes heavenly. You’ll do your part by devouring it, bite by fucking bite.

“This is torture,” the words slip out of her, but it hardly sounds like a complaint. Moreso a confession. Something to say while her shoulders sink into the mattress and her fingers dig into the sheets. “Sweet torture.”

A chuckle into her inner thigh, where the skin is softest, smoothest, and her wetness has leaked down far enough to coat your cheek. Because this is the first time Danielle’s been anywhere close to a position of submissiveness to you. Let the mask, the control slip. The game, the pretences. All it took was the right use of your tongue.

“Higher, please, just eat me already,” she’s pleading now, and it sounds so lovely coming from her lips. And fuck, the scent of her, her arousal, sweet and heady. Calling for you to just dive in face-first.

But you want her to beg. Make her as desperate as she’s made you. It’s only fair.

Your nose meets the bottom of the sweatshirt. You push up, ghost your lips, the warmth of your breath higher up her thigh until her hips are practically stuttering.

Lean in, nibble the flesh just beside her pussy.

She convulses then and there. Arches off the bed, a sharp cry leaving her lips.

Only a moment to revel in it before your hair is snatched in her hands, pulling you closer, and you finally give her what she wants. Tongue darting out, tasting her.

“Right—yes—fuck!”

Her scream drowns out the groan climbing out from your throat, as your lungs are filled with the depths of her. No waiting, really, she’s fucking soaked already. Primed, prepared for your tongue. For the sucking, licking, kissing; every part of her that’s been begging for attention, waiting for you.

Her hips buck, but your palms shoot up, press down against the flat of her stomach, feel the ridged abs, the tiny waist under your fingertips. Holding her down with a firm hand. Letting her know the truth of it all. She’s yours now.

All she can do is whine, “I—I—God, I need—”

“Need me to taste you? Lick you, suck you right up, ruin you with my tongue?” The things coming out of your mouth, the aggression in your tone, it surprises you. But there's not enough time to ponder on what manner of beast she's turned you into so quickly, there's only what's next—press the flat of your tongue against her folds, give a rough, firm pressure, make her squirm.

It’s from here that you can witness it all: the bend of her neck as she throws her head back, the tightness in her stomach, the sharp inhale and heavy exhale of her chest. The tremble in her thighs against your cheek, her breath hitching and her pussy quivering over your mouth.

And it comes to you, so easily, like it was always there. Filth being composed in the back of your mind anytime she was in your presence. Everything you've ever wanted to do to this girl. Everything you've wanted to inflict upon her cunt.

“I'm gonna make you into a fucking mess all over my face, down my chin, all over my bed. Fuck this pussy, Danielle. I could get drunk off it. So fucking sweet.”

“It’s—fuck—” and you’re really enjoying this now, having her be the one that’s lost for words for once. “—whatever—all of it. Do whatever you want, please, because I’m so, so close.”

“I didn’t need your permission,” you tell her, speaking into her cunt. “But it’s appreciated anyway.”

And Danielle’s well and truly wrecked. Drenched cunt so swollen and desperate and really, truly in quite a state. So desperate for you, her body thrumming with it. Cunt pulsing like a fucking heartbeat.

You could take it slow. Could drag out the torture a little longer.

Fuck that.

Tongue goes higher, fixes upon her clit. Danielle falls apart.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck—” Her words are slurring together, choked out, gasps, whines. Barely coherent, and yet, “your mouth—tongue—please—”

The pleases you recognise, they come in staccatos as you lick her from bottom to top. Long, slow drags that make her legs shake.

“You’re going to scream for me,” you declare, a prediction more than an instruction. “Beg for me. Going to make you cum so hard. So loud. Going to make you remember it. Remember me every time you think about touching this sweet cunt.

“Sadist,” she manages, breathless, but it’s hard to detect anything from her other than pure glee. “I can see why my sister would always come home so—fuck—so worn out from seeing you.”

“Don’t,” you spit on her cunt. Take a long, gratuitous lap of your tongue against her folds. Force her hips against your face.

“I’m only wondering—” she says, and there’s an edge to her voice, and you know that whatever’s going to follow is going to make you fucking crazy— “Did she taste as good as me?”

You try your best to ignore the taunt. Just push your tongue inside her, feel the way she clenches around the muscle. Fuck her for making you even think about your ex.

“Or did she ever even get to feel like this? Did she let you? Or maybe you never gave her the honour. Because I can't imagine ever letting go of someone like you."

“Enough,” you murmur, not even sure if it’s a warning or a plea. Your teeth graze her clit. Danielle jolts. “This isn’t about her. It’s about you.”

A barely there—“Me?”

“You started this,” your voice is gravelly now, coloured with something mean, “Just had to be too pretty to ignore. Fucking cocktease.”

“Then—oh—give me what I deserve.”

“That would take hours.” The laugh that comes out of your mouth is anything but warm, and she tries to fire back with one of her usual quips—something that dances on the line of flirty and sarcastic and completely charming all at once, the full Danielle experience.

But that all dies on her lips when your finger pushes through until you’re knuckle-deep, curling up inside her.

“Ah—fuck—” That’s all she’s got, and it’s all you need.

You kiss her cunt, suction around those puffy lips. Her pussy is just so, so pretty; like the rest of her, same as every single fucking inch of her. Even now, all huffing and groaning and fucked-up on your tongue—so effortlessly beautiful.

“Baby,” comes out, all velvety and warm, and then again and again. Pitch rising, falling, voice getting louder, a crescendo dictated by your mouth.

Creamy thighs fit snug over either side of your head, but you’re not going anywhere. You need to make her cum—as hard as she can. Make sure she remembers.

You lick, kiss, suck. Danielle doesn’t require much precision, just intense passion. Showing her how much you love her cunt, love making her fall apart. Really sloppy with it, it’s the pace that matters at this point—giving her everything that’s been boiling deep inside her since she ever laid eyes on you.

Swirl your tongue around her clit, flicking it in a way that has her knees shake and bang together. Suck deep against her folds, making her fingers knot themselves in your hair. And when you moan into her cunt, vibrate your lips against her while your fingers—one, then two, now three—work her over, well—

She can’t fucking do anything but try to breathe, try to keep herself together. Be anything other than the excruciatingly cute and beautiful and fucking delicious mess you’re turning her into.

“Right—right there—right there—” Unnecessary instruction, really. Because you already have her dissolving underneath your tongue. Filling your bedroom, your apartment with noises of her cunt being properly fucked, the sighs and moans that bounce off the walls, echoing around your skull. Putting you in some heavenly torture chamber where the only way out is through her orgasm.

And it’s somewhere in her pleas for a higher power that you feel the beginnings, or the very rapidly approaching endings of it all. The tightness in her thigh, the convulsions. The waterfall dripping down your tongue, your fingers, onto the palm of your hand and pooling underneath her ass.

“This is—this is too much—"

Too much means not enough. Not enough of her, not when you’re so in love with the sound of her breaking apart. The smell of her on your nose, your chin. The feeling of her cunt colliding against your lips.

“Oh God, fuck, please, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t—"

You breathe in, take all you can from what little oxygen she’s left in the room, and bury your face in her. You don’t let up until her cries become screams, until she’s bucking against your face, until her nails are digging into your scalp.

You don’t stop until you feel the first pulse in her climax, until her cunt clenches around your fingers like a fist, until she’s painting your face with her wetness.

And that’s when you reach your other hand around her, urge your fingers underneath those tight, firm cheeks. Push a finger up into her ass, press into that puckered button, making her seize like you just sent a bolt of lightning through her.

“What the fuck, it’s so—God!”

For a moment, she’s yours. Completely and utterly yours.

Her stomach tenses, abs bunching and knitting together. Not a single muscle in her body moves, just frozen in place, locked in pleasure.

Tiny, little shakes, building and building, until it’s a full-body experience; quakes all over her skin, shaking your whole bed. And then—

“Daddy!”

There’s a right word for this—flawless, absolute, divine. Or just plain perfect.

The way she cums is so at odds with who she is. It’s not pretty, it’s not subtle. God, it’s fucking apocalyptic. Orgasms herself into an out-of-body experience onto your chin.

It’s all so fucking obvious; people in the next building over will be able to feel what she’s going through just by the timbre of her voice when she cries out for some sort of God, or spits a filthy curse, or just screams your name in a dozen different ways.

“You’re fucking—yes!”

You need both hands back on her body to fix her to the bed, make sure she doesn’t fall off the fucking edge of the world. Help her bear it, through gritted teeth and sharp hisses, that one final push into oblivion.

A whine signals the end for her; a final real, loud, teary-eyed whine. The most honest sound you’ve ever heard from her and fuck you’d do anything to hear more of it. Give up everything for just an echo of the sweet obscenities that fall from her lips when she cums.

Danielle exhales.

Tries to relax her way out of it. But the trembles haven’t left her, still bubbling underneath her skin. Her legs fall away from your head, leaving your ears ringing, and you ease back. Wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

You massage her, run your hands up to her waist, underneath the sweatshirt. Stroke the lines on her body to coax her back down to the land of the living. Let it all slow down.

Her eyes are still hazy, glazed over, pupils all fucked-up and blown wide.

“Animal,” she says, when her lungs begin to fill again. She giggles, and there’s all the sweetness returning to her body. Radiating off her in this afterglow. Twisting herself a little beneath you to work out all the tension that you’ve just built up and wrecked her with.

“You asked for it,” you tease, hovering over her. Rightfully smug.

Danielle huffs. Looking so pretty behind all the tears. “And I will again.”

And you exhale too, because now you don’t know what the fuck you’ve gotten yourself into.

But Danielle doesn’t give you time to dwell on your thoughts. Scoots up and shifts so she’s on her elbows. Takes your chin in her fingers. Kisses you.

Inhales you deep, tongue immediately pushing past your lips, scraping around the edges. Licking up all the evidence that’s still stuck on the roof of your mouth.

You fall into her, hands rising up her body. God, you just need to feel her nipples harden beneath your palm, her body fold back into yours. Get to know every curve, every dip. You’ve tasted heaven, now you want to map it out with your fingers.

Your hips urge against her waist, pushing her legs apart, and that tells Danielle all she needs to know.

But her tongue leaves yours, escapes the chase of your own.

“Not yet,” and she’s laughing because you actually believed for a heartbeat that you were the one in control here. That you weren’t the one that was going to be left begging. Aching. Left with nothing to do but commit the taste of her to memory.

She draws her tongue across your jaw, your cheek. Licks your face clean, leaves it sticky. Smiles against your skin.

“But maybe later.” She pushes back, hand at your chest. Gets herself up and off your bed, turns away from you so you can only imagine the grin playing on her lips.

Her ass tilts. Her pussy drips onto your floor.

She looks over her shoulder, blows you a kiss, a wink. “Gotta take a shower first.”  

—

(This is the part where Danielle pulls her greatest trick yet—radio silence.

A week without hearing from her—not a text, not a peep, nothing. Turning your brain inside out. Leaving you with nothing but this tangled mess of thoughts about thighs and abs and moans and questions of did whatever the fuck that was really happen?

The worst part of it all is, you know exactly what she’s doing when she’s not busy haunting the edges of your apartment, leaving her fingerprints in every room, over every surface, just waiting for you to find them.

She’s quite easy to be found. She’s still everywhere.

Everywhere except the one place you need her to be.

It’s too early in the evening to be lying in bed, staring at your phone, nothing but the background noise of heaters, TVs and air purifiers to make you seem less alone.

You should really have much better things to do then to hover your thumb over her name.

Your screen lights up with a message—immediately disappointing you when you realise it’s not her. Just your training partner, sending a cursory group invite to anyone else that fancies a night out to break up the routine of getting punched in the head on the daily.

Fuck it.

It’s as good a time to drink as any.)

—

You’re barely in one piece when you get home; which is really par for the course for the past few weeks.

Dazed, horny, tired, concussed—and now, stone-cold drunk.

Habit has you collapsing on your bed in a heap, flicking on your phone, dragging your finger over the screen and taking an embarrassing amount of attempts to unlock it. The blue glow lights up your room, the screen immediately blasting you with the most recent thing you were looking at—the last photo Danielle had sent you.

The one she took in front of your bathroom mirror, where she’s leaning over the sink. A hand perched on the counter, hip cocked to the side. Towel hanging on by a thread, dipping, just so. Tongue poking out, lips looking so shiny and soft.

Eyes right down the barrel of the camera. Knowing the reaction it’ll force out of you. The power she has to stir your cock to life with just a single image.

It’s so fucked up. How in such a short amount of time, she’s occupied every corner of your mind, every corner of your digital life. Unavoidable. Inescapable.

And there’s truth in that: you’re flying too close to the sun; you’re going to get burned but you can’t help but soar a little closer anyway. Heading headfirst into tears, heartache, or worse, a very awkward family reunion.

And you hate that you miss her.

Hate that you’re calling her.

She answers.

“Hey—” you slur, making a stellar start.

You’re picturing the smug smile on the other end of the line. “Is this a drunk dial?”

“I—yeah.” No point in lying. You’re not good at it, and she’s not that dumb.

“Well, I’m flattered,” and there’s pure amusement seeping out of the speaker and into your ear. She sounds like she’s laughing at you. But it’s warm, familiar, and for a second it’s like she’s right here, in your room, in your bed, her naked body pressed against yours. “To what do I owe the honour?”

Since you’re too inebriated to be anything other than honest, you just outright say it—“Got drunk. Can’t sleep. Missed you.”

There's hesitation on the other end. Surprise, you guess. "Then that makes two of us."

"You're drunk too?"

"Unfortunately not. Just the insomnia and the yearning on my part."

“Why aren’t you here?” comes right out your mouth, before you can even stop it.

Her breaths come through the phone. Slow. “Because I’m in a hotel. Hong Kong.”

You roll onto your back, close your eyes. Picture it. Danielle, prettier-than-perfect, curled up on some plush, extravagant bedspread. A complimentary towel getting the luxury of being around her tight figure. Her long legs stretched out in front of her, painted toes digging into the sheets.

You still remember how they felt against your lips.

“I don’t believe you,” you decide, and demand, “Turn on your camera.”

“Oh, you’re very drunk,” is Danielle’s reply, right before the chime of your phone and—

There she is. Scarily accurate to your imagination. Only now, the details are colouring in the rest of the picture—the contrast of hotel white against her dark hair. The glint of light off her sharp cheekbones. Her lips absolutely wicked.

No towel, though. A bathrobe this time.

“It’s fucked up how pretty you are,” you say, because it’s true and you can’t hold back. “Like, Christ.”

Danielle giggles, and it’s also fucked up the things the sound does to your stomach. Forcing you to realise how much you missed having it in your apartment. She leans closer to the camera, head tilting a little to the side. “Very, very drunk.”

“Don’t have to be drunk to recognise how good you look.”

“I always look good.”

“If you were here right now—or if I was there—”

“You’d what? Bury your face between my thighs? Ruin me with your tongue?” She’s smiling. Teasing. Thank God you can see her face again. “Make me call you Daddy?”

“I didn’t make you do anything. That was all you.”

“And you just happened to love it,” she says so easily. Full of confidence. “What else would you love to make me do?”

It comes to your mind immediately, the thought of it—“Your shoulder.”

Her eyebrow jumps up at that, expression settling into something curious. “My shoulder?” She angles herself, gives you a better look. Leaving it bare, the bathrobe droops, doesn’t bother to hide the line of her throat. “Nothing about my neck, my eyes, my lips?”

“I’d get to that. But I’d start with your shoulder,” you recite, letting her in on the journal entries you’ve been writing in your mind. Notes on Danielle. “You’re always just leaving it out there. Your shoulder, collarbone. I’d kiss there first.”

Your words do something to her, you can see it through your bleary eyes. She shifts on top of her bed, twists herself around to settle into a more comfortable position. Leans back into the headboard of her bed. Juts her shoulder out so the bathrobe drops further down her arm.

Has you follow the path of her camera as she angles it lower, and it doesn’t help that she’s biting on her lower lip, and you can’t see where her other hand has gone, and she’s spurring you on by asking:

“Would you kiss me lower too?” The bathrobe parts, plush cotton revealing a single line of her sternum, and then further still, the shadow of her cleavage just out of view.

You nod, swallow. A strained, “Yeah.”

“And here?” The robe slips, falls further down. Revealing the swell of one perfect breast. A nipple, stiffened from the cold. Or the thought of your lips.

Your eyes are locked onto the image of her creamy skin, the darkened areola. You don’t care that you’re groaning, that your hand is already reaching down to palm your erection through your sweatpants. You don’t care that she probably knows.

It’s what she wants.

“Yeah, I’d kiss you there. Lick it. Get it between my teeth, and—”

“Sounds like you’ve thought a lot about me,” she murmurs, but she’s only saying things that you both are keenly aware of. You are—have been—putty in her hands. A man lost at sea with only her voice as a compass. The camera moves in closer still. You can feel the heat of her skin through the screen. “What if I told you I’ve been thinking about you too?”

Her free hand returns in view. Up to her chest. Teasing her own nipple; pinching between her thumb and forefinger. She gasps, breathes heavy down the line, and you swear you can feel it too, a phantom softness at your own fingertips.

“I’ve been thinking about what you did to me with your mouth, been thinking about it—” she’s panting, and her hand’s moving. Thumb tracing lazy circles around her breast, and you’re thinking that it’s the exact path you’d take with your tongue. “Every. Single. Night.”

It’s too much and nearly not enough. No where close to satisfying the ache she’s built inside you. You want her here, in your bed, underneath you. You want to show her what you can really do to her. How you’d kiss her until she couldn’t breathe, lick her until she couldn’t think, fuck her until she’s nothing more but a shivering mess, leave her begging.

And then, as if announcing your own thoughts back to you— “I want to cum,” she sighs, barely a whisper. “But I don’t want to do it alone.”

“Show me.”

There’s a beat, two, where Danielle mulls it over. Nothing but pants heard through the speaker. Her nipple still in view.

Until she turns, phone hitting the bedside table with a gentle thump. Screen still on, camera pointing right at her face. But the angle’s off—she shifts it downward and returns to the bed.

It sobers you up, puts you on alert. Danielle. Lying on her side. The soft, pale swell of her breasts, the dip of her vanishing, practically non-existent waist. The curve of her hips down to the long, smooth legs. The robe slides down, baring her other shoulder. Her neck. The cut of her clavicle.

Fuck.

Her breathing hitches when she sees you, the look on your face. So low, so quiet, when she says, “Now, you too.”

A mirror of her actions—your phone finds a spot to lean on. Hands wobbly, vision blurs as you rush to get the angle right. Sweatpants disappear, freeing your cock. The waistband catches on your length, causing it to spring out hard.

It’s Danielle’s turn now to groan out a “Fuck.”

And for a moment, it’s just heat and silence. Hot, laboured breaths filling the space between the two of you. Her hand drifts down, skating between her abs, lower—

“Tell me,” she says, fingers crawling to the hood of her pussy, gliding over where she’s most sensitive. Her thighs part slightly, slowly, showing herself to the camera, to you. How wet she is, how delicious she looks. You want to taste it. You’d die to feel the heat of her against your tongue once more.

But you’re not there. You’re both stuck in this digital limbo. Two people desperate to fuck each other through a screen. It won’t be enough. It just can’t be. But it’s all you’ve got, so it’ll have to do.

“Tell me everything.” Her eyes close, hand starting to move with purpose. Spreading her folds. Glistening clit standing proud. “Everything you’d do to me. All of it. I know you’ve been thinking about me. Give me every little detail. Make it dirty, make it good, make it—”

“I—” you start, only to stumble, “I want to fuck you.”

“Obviously,” she’s smiling into the camera, and yeah, you’re realising it was a stupid way to begin things. “Please don’t make me do all the work here. Where’s the guy that said he’d make sure I remember him every time I touch this tight, little cunt?”

“Sweet cunt.”

“You would know.”

You clear your throat. Adjust yourself. Angle your cock towards her so she can see how much you mean what you’re about to say. “Danielle—”

“Dani, please.”

“Dani,” you restart, “After your shoulder, your collarbone, after I’ve left those fucking tits all marked up—I’d run my tongue back up to your neck, suck on that spot right here—” you bring your other hand up, tap it over your pulse. Danielle’s eyes shoot open. Follows your finger. “You know the one.”

Her hand falters, she chokes on a breath. She’s picturing it. Feeling it. “Yeah,” she stammers. “Yeah, I know.”

“And then—then you’d feel my fingers. Pushing in,” you continue, hand tightening around your own shaft. Pre-cum making it slick. Recalling her heat, the tightness of her cunt. The clench around your digits. “So fucking slow. Watching your face as you take them. One, two. Three. Yeah, you’d look just like that.”

Her own fingers dip, bringing your words to life. Eager to follow word for word, whispering these hushed little pleas, and then a moan, and then— “Don’t—don’t stop.”

“Slowly, Dani,” you make her whine, as if you’re right there, holding her hand, forcing her to balance on that edge. “Just like that. God, you look so pretty. You would look so pretty. Coming apart on my fingers. I don’t think I’d ever be able to stop telling you, because fuck.”

You break it down—break her down. Tell her the steps, one by one. The way you’d kiss her, taste her. How lovely it would be, lips as sweet as her cunt was. Kiss so deep that you’d steal the breath from her lungs, make sure she knows what it’s like to be consumed. The way you’d kiss her neck, her ear, make a mess on her tits. Every spot that makes her quiver.

There’s tension in her shoulders, tightening across her muscles. Eyes clenched shut, fingers dancing over her every inch that you tell her you’d explore once you’ve finally stripped her bare.

Leave her in her natural state: naked, beautiful, fucking breathtaking.

Her hand’s a blur now, thighs trembling with each pass of her fingers, and she’s chewing on her bottom lip so hard you can see the indentation. Whining, pleading, these divine little noises, intermittent—“Keep going, don’t stop, tell me more,” —pure bliss articulated,  and you’ve lost track of how many times she’s asked, “and then?”

“I’d spread you wide open, Dani,” you tell her, and watch as her legs part, leaving her splayed out on her bed. Image so fucking wanton it’s biblical sin. “God, look at you. You’re so fucking wet I can hear it through the phone.”

Danielle can’t help herself, “It’s you,” she’s gasping, panting, fucking herself with her fingers so intently that the sounds of her cunt are coming through loud and clear. “It’s all because of you. So, so wet. I’ve been like this all week.”

A thought, you realise, “So that’s why you stopped messaging me.”

The tightness in her voice confirms it for you, “Yeah. Couldn’t stop thinking of you. Reaching out would’ve made it too fucking much.”

This revelation hangs in the air, thick and palpable. Pushes aside any remaining inhibitions. You stroke yourself harder, faster, matching her rhythm, her breaths. Joining the slicks of her own cunt with the sound of your skin slapping against your palm.

“But it didn’t help. So, fuck it. I needed to let you see. Let you know. How much I want you. Need you.”

“Was never much a secret.”

“Never said I was good at hiding it,” and Danielle’s grinning now, looking so beautifully lost and downright filthy and there’s really only one thing left to ask, “Tell me how you’d fuck me.”

“Hard.”

One word and she fucking loves it.  

“Flip you over, from behind. Against whatever hard surface I can push you up against. Nothing sweet about it. Giving you what you fucking deserve.”

“God!”

“Leave you out of fucking breath. Just take my cock deep. You can see it can’t you? How big it is. How fucking hard it is for you. I’d make you take every inch fucking fast and rough. Make you mine. My own personal cocksleeve. Daddy’s little cocksleeve, how do you like the sound of that?”

Danielle’s back arches, chest rises and falls. Hand moving faster, fucking herself, really going for it. Head thrown back, eyes open, on you. Like she’s memorising the way you’re looking at her. Unable to do anything but look when you’re puppeteering her body across an entire ocean, words dictating every little shiver, every little pulse.

“Pin you against a wall, Dani. Make it so you can’t move. Can’t do anything but feel me. So deep inside you that you’d feel fucking empty without me.”

“Fuck, that sounds so—” Dani’s barely breathing now, and whether by some reflex or just a need to make your words feel a little more real, she rolls onto her stomach. Ass up in the air, pushing her face down into the mattress. You can see the muscles in her back ripple, the fingers disappearing between her thighs, and she’s biting down on the sheets but you’re making out the— “Just like that. Yes, yes, like that. Fuck me like that. Make me—”

It’s the view of her tight ass and it's like she's inviting you to tell her, “I’d spank you—leave you all nice and red. So you’d feel it after. Have you screaming until you can’t even speak. Make sure the last word you’ll ever say is my name.”

“You’d pull my hair too, right?”

“You wouldn’t have a choice.”

Danielle screams your name; the first time you’ve ever heard it sound like that. Somewhere between worship and pure desperation. It’s fucking heavenly. Your cock flexes in your hand, and you want to drop everything and rush over to her hotel room right now and shove it directly in her face.

But you’ll have to be content with what you’ve got.

With Danielle, an utter disaster; soaked cunt and all, splashing down onto the bed. And it’s going to be a problem, an explanation she’ll have to provide. How the perfect, idol-princess left her room stained and forever ruined with the scent of her cum-drenched sheets.

She’ll lie, of course. Spin something about a spill, or a new perfume she’s trying, or maybe she’ll fucking own it.

How some guy over the phone left her shaking with his words alone. Made her scream his name until she got noise complaints from rooms on the opposite side of the hall. Caused a fucking mess that the hotel laundry service would never be able to scrub out.

She’s so close, so fucking close. You know because you’ve been on the same tracks as her, charting it through the throbbing of your own cock, the tightening in your balls.

She’s just dying for release. For your permission.

“I’m just—I can’t—Can’t believe you’re going to make me—”

“Just fucking cum then, Dani,” you command. An order.

She follows without question.

Hand builds speed—faster, faster, faster. ‘Fuck—fuck—fuck’ spilling from her lips until it’s all just one noise buried in a mess of pleasure and bliss. Until she’s just a heartbeat in the palm of your hand.

Fucking God, she cums hard.

You do too.

You swear the camera shakes, it’s not just your vision, the head spin, the alcohol. It all vibrates around you and you can’t see straight.

Watching Danielle; her abs tense, back bow, collapsing into her bed. Eyes squeezed shut, choking on sheets as she tries and fails to muffle herself. Orgasm ringing through your phone, a chorus of sin. Your own cock is bucking, moving with her hips, and you’re fucking her, fucking her through it all, making her fall apart again and again, making her shiver, beg, cry out your name and—

It’s a fucking masterpiece.

“Cum for me please, Daddy!”

Like a gunshot, a trigger, and you’re gone too.

A mess—sticky, warm. Fucking satisfying.

And then it’s over.

You both slump down, dissolve into your own individual puddles. Needing deep, heaving breaths. Sweat sticking to your skins, to the sheets. It makes her glow.

Just laying there. Not bothering to clean up. Evidence of your lust smeared across your hands, your stomachs, your beds. The trophies earned.

The silence stretches out, and it’s weird because it’s just like she’s breathing right in your ear, coming down next to you. Warmth against your neck, hand sliding down your body. Fitting right in your arms.

Her eyes finally open. Slow movements have her hand dropping away from her pussy, sliding over the wetness to her side. A mess, and there’s a new kind of smile on her face. A little lazy, weak. Satisfied.

“Fuck.”

“Tell me about it.”

She watches you for a beat. Runs a tongue over her lips. “Can’t wait to see you again.”

“When?”

“As soon as I fucking can.”

 —

(It feels good—too good—to be honest for once.

The games are still there, but now that you’re a willing participant, Danielle’s tactics shift.

It starts innocently enough—a good morning text here, a photo of her breakfast there, a meme you’d both find funny.

And then the escalation.

Here’s what I’m wearing. Here’s what’s underneath. You want to see more?

Reciprocate.

Every notification from her has you running to the bathroom, or at least somewhere with a little privacy, because it’s always a photo or a video, a little slice of heaven to get you through the day or completely ruin it just by seeing her picture.

And fuck, you do look.

And then there’s the last photo—and of course there’s a bathroom and a mirror and your sweatshirt hiked up to her chest and she’s completely bare otherwise and you’re thinking she’s laughing here because she knows you’re going to zoom in and find the tiny caption left for you to discover between her thighs.

One word.

Your cock jumps, a silent cheer.

Tomorrow.)

—

It's borderline problematic how you have to hold yourself back from sprinting down your hallway when you get home. Just because you hear the sound of running water.

Danielle's here again.

She’s fucking back.

And that’s how you find her; the door to the bathroom’s been left wide open, an invitation you don’t really need—nothing could stop you at this point.

But it doesn’t take away from the surprise of it at all, you're knocked off your feet when you meet her in the shower.

Danielle, head thrown back, letting the hot water cascade over her. Down her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. She’s soapy, skin a canvas of bubbles, your bottle of body wash in her hand, flipped upside down and dripping on her tits.

There’s a smile in the opposite mirror for you, and fuck, for a second you’re believing in love at first sight or the existence of angels or just the fact that maybe you were put on this planet to procreate.

“You’re late.”

You clear your throat, steam starting to warm it up for you. “I was at the gym.”

And she giggles, and she’s smug, and you missed her presence so much more than you anticipated. “Then it sounds like you should join me.”

She reaches out, grabs you by the wrist, and you have mere seconds to get rid of your shirt and your sweatpants and anything you don’t want to get wet because you’re falling into her. Threading your fingers through wet mattes of hair, pushing her into cold tile, and kissing the prettiest fucking girl you’ve ever met in your entire life.

“Missed you,” she murmurs into your lips, warm and steamy words that taste like mint. “Really fucking missed you.”

She’s too real now.

In your shower, beneath your fingertips, water running in rivulets over her body. Moisture evaporating off her skin, sticking to yours. Photos, videos, everything from that fabricated reality of pixels and soundwaves, could never do enough to come close to having her right in front of you.

You run your hands over her body, hers are doing the same down yours—as if needing multiple points of contact to confirm that you’re really here, that this is really happening. Her skin’s like silk under the water, slippery and smooth. You trace the outline of her waist, her ribs, the curves of her ass.

And her abs. Fucking hell. Sculpted, each ridge a testament to her dedication, to hours spent. To the sweat, the tears, the sheer fucking willpower it takes to become an idol. A map of her life’s work, and they’re begging to be touched. Appreciated.

You do.

A soft touch. Reverent. She responds with a gasp that sends a shiver down your spine. Danielle’s eyes are on yours, watching, as your thumb traces the line of here stomach.

You get the obvious out of the way. “You’re so fucking pretty, Dani.”

She arches a brow. “Just pretty?”

You smile, kiss her shoulder. Lap up the water pooling in her collarbone. Stuck between the need to take your time to worship her body like it deserves, and the primal urge to just claim her, take everything about her that’s good and soft and hot and make it yours. “It doesn’t even cover it. I don’t think any words do.”

“Then show me.”

So, you pull her closer, hands cradling her face, thumbs brushing against the soft skin of her cheeks. Kiss her until she’s melting into you, until her body’s pressing into yours so tightly that you can feel the heat of her.

A palm falls to her hip, thumb resting at that glorious spot where her waist sinks right in just before curving out to her ass. Your fingers dig into flesh, and Danielle’s moan; the sweet, sweet sound fills your mouth, vibrates down your throat.

Her hand wraps around the back of your neck, gripping tight; she’s not shy of about touching you either. About asking for more. More of everything. More of this. More of you. You kiss her harder, like you’re trying to break her apart and rebuild her in your own image. Like you’re trying to brand her with your mouth.

“This is,” she breathes between the kisses, slurring against your chest, “so much different in person.”

“How so?” You ask, and follow her eyes southward.

Her cheeks flush, and she looks up at you through wet lashes. “Bigger.”

You laugh, feeling something unlock in your chest. It’s so absurd. Like all at once, your entire destiny's been flipped on its head.

Danielle’s fingers take hold of your cock, stroking you gently. Staring at it in wonder. She’s worshipping it. This goddess, and it’s your cock that’s her idol. She squeezes at the top of your head. The glee in her eyes when you groan.

“God, it’s—” Danielle voice cracks, and she gives the words their proper weight when she says, “Taken too long.”

You can barely think anymore. Not when her hand is winding up and down you in these long, smooth strokes. Like she's somehow been practicing, rehearsing for this exact occasion, studied upon every sensitive spot and how to hit it just right.

“Could’ve had this from the start,” Danielle tells you, and you’re throbbing so hard in her hands. “Could’ve had this any time you wanted,” she says again; like it’s fact, a simple truth of the universe.

And suddenly nothing really makes sense anymore. Whatever logic you had leading up to this point—why didn’t you just reach out and take her? All the times she was right in front of you, on your couch, in your bedroom, or in this very shower, with the door unlocked.

“Could’ve had me whenever you liked,” she whispers, pushing herself closer, her pert little nipples pointed against your chest. “I’ve been so wet and desperate and ready for your cock this whole time. All you had to do was take it.”

You’ve got nothing but an uncommitted, “Couldn’t.”

To that she laughs, presses her lips into your jaw and her grip’s tightening. There’s pre-cum beading from your tip and leaking onto her palm, you both see it clearly before it gets washed away. “I know. That’s why I tried my best to be patient.”

You need a reality check, make sure she’s at all aware of the damage she’s been wreaking. “You? Patient?”

“Oh, you think this only started a few weeks ago?” Danielle taunts, and it’s with an air of ridicule. Incredulous that you could be so naïve. “You have no idea.”

But the honest truth is—you do. You’ve been aware of it—aware of her—from the start. Her sister had probably been aware of it even longer.

Probably why you chose to bury your head in the sand.

But there’s no avoiding it now. This girl—woman. This dream. A picture of youth and beauty; a masterpiece painted by time and genetics, with a touch of that special something that makes you want to frame her and hang her up on every wall in your apartment—make everyone see her the way you do.

And even then, strip that all away, and it's just those lips—the grin, the smile, the pout—and the intention behind each expression that is your true undoing.

It’s the smirk this time when she makes her point, “I’ve had the biggest crush on you since—” And that does it. That does you in. “Forever.”

“Yeah,” you tell her, falling straight into confession. “I think I have too.” 

Danielle’s pace picks up, the rhythm building until it’s starting to drive you crazy. Making you lean into her, pushing into the warmth of her small hands. She’s back to kissing into your throat, your ear lobe, any part of your skin she can get her lips to when she whispers, mockingly, “Is this the part where you tell me—I want to fuck you—again?”

That’s an unfair callback.

Danielle quirks an eyebrow. Daring you to do something about it.

You push off her. Slip out of her grasp. Hand trapping her wrists above her head before she can grab you again. You're the one grinning now.

"No. This is the part where I spread you wide open. Pin you against this wall. Make you scream my name.”

Her eyes dilate, pupils blown wide. She licks her lips, “Spank me?”

“And pull your hair.”

“Then go ahead and do it.”

But you pause. Wait. Hold her wrists above her head and stare into her eyes. Give her the chance to put the magic words together herself. Your grip tightens.

Danielle’s smile widens. “Please, Daddy—”

She’s so fucking small, light, practically weightless in your hands. Easy enough to take her hips and lift and spin her around before she can even register that she’s moving. She catches herself on the tile when you set her down, bracing herself against the wall; palms flush, fingers splayed out. Legs naturally split just slightly.

All this build-up and you can’t help but rush.

She turns to look back at you. Needs to see you, needs you to see her, all of her. Giving up on all ideas of teasing, of whatever game took you to this point. Just need. Just burning desperation.

“Need it,” is everything she’s wanted to say, everything she’s tried to tell you over and over again. Everything that makes her vanilla thighs tremble, her knees all wobbly, her cunt drip onto your shower floor.

Your cock twitches, and there’s first contact, sweeping against her folds. Heat sticking to the tip and fuck, yeah, this is not going to be one of those slow, tender moments. You press into her, align yourself between her thighs. One hand at her hip, the other joining her palm against the wall because judging by the way she’s shivering, she just might slip away completely without it.

“Need it now, Daddy,” Danielle whines, so fucking cute and honest, and when you drag your cock so it’s kissing against her entrance, it turns into a demand of, “Inside—please, fuck, put that big cock inside my—”

A push of your hips, and she’s so fucking soaking wet that you slide right in.

Her moan.

You think she’s trying for ‘Daddy’ again, but it’s all fucked up and muddled. Lost in the clench of her muscles, the tension across her body, the way her face screws up and holds and makes all the noises that come out strained and whiny.

So fucking nice.

“God—fuck—finally—”

Fitting so perfectly around you; folding her body into yours. It’s partly the angle—her back arching into yours, her hips urging backwards so nicely, ass squishing against your waist. Her pussy. Hotter than hot, wetter than wet. A fucking vice, a perfect grip that makes you feel like this is where your cock was always supposed to be.

Buried deep inside Danielle’s hot, tight, fucking glorious body.

It’s all just so easy, everything about her, so easy to fuck. Not that she’s not tight—the feel is so fucking divine it’s enough to make your eyes roll back in your head—but because she moves with you, like you’re two parts of one machine, two bodies meant to be joined at the hip; or at the cock and the cunt.

She’s made for you. Tailored to each line and curve and angle of your length.

It takes several strokes—euphoric, mind-breaking, soul-shattering strokes—before Danielle gets some bearings on herself. Panting through it all, making some effort to tear off the bathroom tiles with just her nails, but she’s got enough breath to whisper over her shoulder, “Feels so good. I knew—knew it would be like this.”

A small hand leaves the wall, reaches behind her. Fingers dig into your thigh because she needs something else to hold onto. Something real.

“Knew I’d be perfect for you.”

You want to laugh, chalk it up to her doing her usual cocky little thing. But she’s got you too deep inside her, you’ve sunk all the way in so quickly your lungs are still in recovery trying to catch your breath. Got you so far up her cunt that it’s difficult to manage anything that isn’t a moan. So you just nod. Thrust harder. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“God this is exactly how I thought it’d go,” she keeps going, slowly finding her voice again. Each word like a spell, a curse. “I thought about it—what you’d be like—how you’d fuck me—”

“Danielle,” you grunt out, surprising yourself with how easily it comes out. Then again, it's always been on the tip of your tongue.

“I used to think it’d be nice and sweet—gentle—” she says, shakily, “But this—rough—fucking me like you own me—like you can’t get enough—it’s so much better than I ever imagined. So much better—”

Her words cut off into a gasp when you kiss into her throat. Her hand snakes back up to your neck, pulling you closer, nails scraping along your skin, leaving little white lines. The sting is nice. A welcome distraction from the fire burning through your veins.

Your lips drift higher, and she twists her body to draw you into this clumsy, uncoordinated kiss. Sloppy in construction, she’s kissing at the corners of your mouth, your tongue is dragging up to her cheek at one point. But it’s all communicated in the clash of lips and teeth and the way she’s panting into you, moaning down your throat, “So good, you’re so fucking good, Daddy—”

And then just—

“More,” and she’s at your mercy, and she just loves it, is so fucking earnest for her need for you to just keep going. “Harder, please, I need—”

But you already know. She needs to be fucked, handled rough and just nailed like she’s wanted you to for weeks. Months. Maybe a year at this point. She’s done watching from the sidelines while you were too stupid to realise that she was what you needed all along. Done being the outsider, the third party, watching you go by unappreciated, watching you not get what you needed.

Your name bounces off the shower walls and back into your ears. Impossibly loud; the sound hardly sweet or loving, but it’s pure music. Everything you’ve ever wanted to hear.

It’s joined by the wet smacks of skin on skin. The slick of her cunt around you. Her breaths hitching and catching every time you bottom out and rut your cock so deep in her bowels that it takes a herculean amount of effort to pull it back out again.

Her ass just bounces back against you. The perfect handful—slapping into your thighs with every push. And then, the idea thought of in tandem, two minds as one—“Didn’t you say you were going to—”

A smack ripples across Danielle’s ludicrously tight cheeks.

“Fuck!” She cries out, eyes start to moisten, but she just pushes her ass back. Ready for more.

So you give her another.

A snap; your palm against her. Making the flesh pink up, making it jiggle just right.

Her eyes squeeze shut, mouth opens. Forces out these adorable little sounds, mewls, whimpers.

And then another, and another, and her pussy tightens around you with every hit. You can hear her breath catch in her throat; and fuck she clenches even tighter down on your cock. It’s so dangerous for her because the way she’s reacting, practically thanking you with her moans and sighs and lovely tightening of her cunt around you—it’s making you so greedy.

Greedy to mark her up, to really draw a work of fucking art on her skin. Leave your handprints on something beautiful.

“Again,” she begs, and her voice is absolutely shot. Just raspy, desperate, needy. “Harder, please, Daddy. I’ve never, no one’s ever—"

You smack her again.

And again.

And again.

Leaving her cheeks red and stinging. Leaving her trembling. Just a boneless mess of beautiful sighs and blissful pleasure. You can see it, in the bumps rising on her skin, the way her toes are curling in ecstasy, her cunt gushing down your own thighs. There’s no hiding it. Without a doubt, this is what she’s always deserved.

It’s a hard thrust, a harsh smack, each following one after another in rapid succession. Fucking her apart, fucking her in two. Fucking her into oblivion.

Each spank, each perfect spasm of her abs, her cunt, it’s all a quiet mercy. Pain pushing her closer and closer to pleasure, balancing on that precipice where her pussy is strangling the fuck out of your cock so perfectly.

There’s only one word for someone who’s loving this kind of treatment, someone who’s this fucking filthy and vulgar and dying for more.

“Slut,” you bite into her ear, and the gasp that rises from her throat confirms it. The second word, “Cocksleeve," nearly shatters her completely.

You could never imagine someone like her, someone that could live in the torture if only because it brings out so much joy.

You know it, she knows it, but you still let her know, “You’re going to cum for me.”

And she whimpers and bucks against you because she sees it for what it is. A promise. And it’s all because she’s so fucking responsive, so eager for it, so fucking reactive. A pinwheel in a tornado, spinning and spinning until it’s just a blur of colour and motion and all you can do is watch in amazement.

“I will,” she promises back, and fuck you’re not far behind. “I'll cum for you. All over your beautiful fucking cock.”

It keeps you going, makes your strokes erratic, wild, just harsh, punishing thrusts into the depths of her cunt. And she keeps taking it, walls gripping around your cock with unreal pressure, like she’s trying to keep you there forever. Like she’s afraid you’ll pull out and leave her unsated.

But she’s wrong.

You let her know with your next spank. The hardest one yet.

“Fuck you’re—” and it’s your name, and curses, and filth, and begging and just “yes, yes, yes” again and again. Screaming it into your ear, crying it into your neck; she’s baring the deepest, darkest part of her soul.

Locked in place, cumming.

Unable to move, because her back’s to your chest, and she’s up against a wall so all she can really do is tremble and shiver and shake until she’s completely dissolved.

And it’s somewhere in all this that you come to terms with the fact that it’s not enough. You’ve crossed the line and you don’t even dream of settling. You’re going to make her cum again. And again. And again.

She’s spent all this time offering herself up to you, crafting herself into this toy for your amusement, a fuckdoll for you to play with; as if you were only going to take this one taste and let her go.

But you do give her a break, if only for a moment.

You massage her ass; soothe the sting with your fingertips. A little tenderness amidst the storm.

“Good girl,” you catch yourself kissing into her, and the words are like a password to some hidden part of her, something that makes her nearly collapse onto the shower floor.

Her cunt pulses, once, twice, milking you. Her muscles start to give out, and you need to wrap your hand around her body to keep upright. Fingers at her tits, squeezing, twisting her nipples because you’ve always wanted to and you know she loves it. Because she needs the sensation to keep her on her feet.

“Mine,” you grit out, and there’s no disagreement from Danielle. No, her eyes are too glassy, glazed over and not even looking at you anymore. Just feeling you, feeling what you’re doing to her.

There’s tears in her eyes too; it’s not just the water raining down overhead. She’s sobbing well and truly, because you’ve fucked her so thoroughly that it’s all she can do. It’s all her pretty eyes can show you to tell you just how fucking good it feels for her. So perfect. So much more than she ever hoped for.

Letting you see every bit of her. Every tear that falls down her face, every quiver in her legs. Every time she chokes out your name.

“Mine,” you repeat, kissing it into her shoulder.

Her response is a nod. She’s caught her breath. “Always have been.”

She’s just so soft, even as she’s still quivering. Legs somehow still holding her upright, even when the architecture's been threatening to crumble and collapse this entire time.

So you start to move again. Slower, gentler, almost apologetic.

Danielle ends all ideas of that very quickly. “Hey,” she kisses your cheek. Aiming for your lips, but misses entirely. You don’t mind much.

“Dani,” you groan, because God, even when you’re trying to take it slow, a little easy, it’s still so fucking agonising. So dangerous. Like you’re the first to ever get his hands on her. You’ve discovered fire, now you just can’t keep your hands off it.

“Don’t you dare go taking it easy on me now. Not after you just made me cum my fucking brains out,” is what Danielle rasps, “Remember, I’m yours.”

She kisses you again, gets your mouth this time, tongue pushes in. Convinces you with the sweetness of it that it’s far from over. Not until you’ve done exactly as you’ve promised to her—fucked her so hard, so deep, until she couldn’t move, until she’d feel empty without your cock inside her.

“Your slut,” she slides down you, until it’s only the tip of your cock that remains nestled at her entrance, “your cocksleeve,” her hips snap back, a rush of air exits your lungs and fuck, you’re in deep again, “and you still haven’t pulled my hair yet.”

Yeah.

Grab a fistful of chestnut silk, yank back, and she’s yours. Back to speed, fucking her open and raw, having this effect on her.

Seeing it blossom from her thighs, up her abs, her ribs, her tits, around her throat until it’s bubbling out of lips and the corner of her eyes. This girl is yours. This petite, perfect, fuckable body is yours to do as you wish—to use, to pleasure, to ruin.

You tell her to take it—she takes it. You tell her to beg for it—and she cries and pleas and makes it seem like the only thing that could settle her soul is your cock.

And when you command her to scream your name, and it's just so fucking soul-destroying—the loveliest noise from the filthiest tongue, and everything that comes with it. The ‘just like this’, the barely coherent ‘your slut, Daddy, I’m your slut’, and these encouraging quivers from her lips that take the shape of ‘give your good little girl all of your hot fucking cum and—”

“Fuck, this pussy is incredible,” you breathe into her, and your grip is tightening into a fist, tugging her back even further until she’s leaning into it, her back arched so beautifully like some mathematical wonder.

Head tipped back, throat bared, and she’s trapped. Trapped underneath your weight, trapped in your hands, trapped against the wall with nowhere to go but further down your cock.

It only seems right. After all she’s put you through; the mind games, the seduction, the fucking audacity. You’ll give it right back. Fuck her as hard as she’s been fucking with you. Roughness as penance, finding forgiveness in the soaked and messy and now red and swollen recesses of her cunt.

Fingers drift higher, two past her plump lips, into her mouth. She bites down. You don’t even care anymore. Pulling harder on her hair, fixing her body to yours, and God, even like this, wrapping her up in your body, having her as close to you as possible, being as deep as you are in her. It’s not enough.

She chokes on your digits, collapsing. “Fuck. Too good. Fuck!”

Getting wetter and wetter, messier and messier, thank God you’re already in the shower.

Telling you these things with every whimper, with every twitch of her body, every squeeze of her cunt around your cock. Find out, is what you’re getting. Find out how good she is at being a slut. Where her limits are—how much she can take. Find out how quickly she can make you cum.

“You want this, don’t you?” Danielle reads your mind. Had your number since the beginning, figured you out before you knew. “You don’t need someone nice. Someone sweet, someone good for you. You need someone who’ll—fuck—push you to the edge and then—and then—fucking kick you off. Someone who’ll let you do the same to her.”

Yeah, you’re fucked. Never had someone lay it out so bluntly. So perfectly.

“Daddy wants to cum so bad,” Danielle’s being whiny, slutty, drooling down your fingers, because there’s nothing else she can do. Just taunt and tease and be fucked senselessly. Helpless to take it—harder, deeper—faster, faster, faster. “Daddy needs to fill his slut’s cunt, doesn’t he?”

“I will,” you growl into her ear, and the quivers around your cock are nothing short of rapturous.

It’s all coming to a head—the shower’s a steamy mess around you; water’s cold now, but Danielle’s getting even hotter around you. Can’t stop moving; don’t you dare give her a moment to catch her breath. Not when she’s this close. Not when you’re this fucking close.

Her nails dig into your arms, you’re leaving bruises on her hips. You know it. You can feel them. She’s thanking you for them.

And then a glimpse, the light hits the glass walls of the shower just right and you’re seeing it. Danielle, grace and elegance in a package so tight and wet and perfect and it's all going to hell. Your hand in her hair, the water running over your fingers, splashing onto her back, hitting the gorgeous, sweet pink of her well-spanked ass.

You’re just fucking her. Like it’s all you can do. Like it’s all she’s good for.

Eyes fastened shut. Mouth—beautiful, kissable lips frozen into an even circle, letting out these wails. Danielle’s perfect. So flawless it hurts to look at her. And you’re ruining it all. Dumping a bucket of paint on a priceless work of art, watching the colours run down the canvas.

“God, just—“ Danielle tries, but it takes several attempts until she can piece together the words she really wants you to hear, loud and clear: “Just fuck your cum deep into me. Daddy, I’ve earned it, haven’t I?”

You’re not sure what noise you make as a reply. It’s very likely not something nice.

“Please, please, Daddy,” Danielle’s pouting, and there’s the brat again. The girl that gets what she wants with just the jutting of her lower lip and a voice so sweet it’s undoubtedly terrible for your blood-sugar levels. Just pleading for you to let her bring all your filthiest fantasies to life—fuck her deeper, fill her with all the cum you have, spank her, pull her hair, choke her, even. Letting you know there’s no limit to what she’ll do just to have her cunt spilling out your cum. “It’s what I need right now. It’s my reward for being such a good girl. That’s what good girls get, right? Their Daddy’s cum?”

Christ, this is going to become a problem.

You can never go back.

Not to anything less than fucking to incoherence; to cumming as gratitude. To using someone so pretty, so God-damn lovely, the embodiment of everything wholesome and good in the world; with all the angelic hopes and dreams and aspirations, and reducing it to a simple dumpster for your cum.

To destroying someone with just your cock, and being thanked for the privilege.

“Fuck you, Dani,” you spit at her, and you mean it. “You’re too fucking perfect. Too good of a slut, too needy of a cocksleeve. I’ll give you everything. Fill you with it. Every tight, needy hole, paint every inch of your body. Fuck you against every single surface in this apartment. Fuck.”

“Good,” and it’s fucked up how she blushes, only seeing the praise, the compliments in your words. Yeah, she’ll be all those things, and then some. She’ll be every pornographic fantasy you can think of and then show you even more you could never imagine. She’ll make sure to drain you dry and then drill deep inside you to get out every last drop. “All of those things. Do all of those things. But now—just—cum!”

Your hips meet, you nearly fuck her off her feet.

She cums, or you do, or you both do, it all gets lost in this noise. A wave of sound that could wake the fucking dead—you’re not sure who jumps first, no point in trying to figure it out. Just a blur of sensation and release, crashing through your veins and you’re going to tear her in half, or she’s going to swallow you whole; it’s two and one and fuck.

You try to hold on—her hands around your neck and then your thigh, yours straight to her tits; more of her, you need more of her.

But your knees are buckling. Your breaths are haggard. You’re pushing her into the wall, her cheek is squished against the tile and she’s slurring things that get lost in the water like God, fuck, this is so perfect and if you were paying more attention you might catch it when she says it’s all I’ve ever wanted.

You do hear your name.

“Thank you, thank you, it’s so fucking good, just fucking thank you—”

She’s on her tiptoes when you feel the rush down her thighs, when her cunt makes its final effort around your cock, and it’s all coming out in whispers and prayers and unholy verbal contracts to never let this end.

Her body jerks, hips slamming back into you, and the wall's cold on her face, but it's the heat from your chest that’s all she needs to soothe her shivering; her chattering teeth repeating, "Fill me, fill me, fill me, Daddy!"

Fuck, you’ve lost count how many times now, but you’re spurting inside her. Unbearable pressure, blissful release. You can’t see the end of it, but you don’t want to escape—only sink into the feeling of her cunt around your cock, the gasps of her breath in your ear, the pleas and overtures for you to keep going. And you do, because this is now your heaven, and you’re feeling more religious by the second.

Shot after shot into her, feeling it fill her up, pool inside her pussy. She tells you it’s not enough, her cunt tries to milk every single drop out. You’re okay with that. You’ll give her everything you’ve got. Just to see her stumble out of this bathroom with your cum leaking out of her. Witness her waddling down the hall, globs of it dripping down her thighs. That’s the power play right there.

And somewhere in all this obscene debauchery, she says, “I love this,” and there’s a kiss that follows.

Suddenly tender; still sloppy, and yet—gentle. Softer than any of the bruises you’ve left on her skin.

Danielle’s still holding onto your neck, your fingers are glued to her tits, but for the first time you give her the space to breathe.

Her body relaxes, the fight leaves her legs and she’s just a ragdoll in your arms. And you hold her. Just hold her there, still inside her, cum leaking out of her and running down her thighs, mixing with the shower water and going down the drain.

And you’re unwilling to let her go, you might never, because maybe if you pull out, she’ll vanish. Maybe you’re dreaming. Maybe it’s all some sick, twisted, fucked up fantasy spurred by every thought she’s filled your head with over the past month.

But when you blink your eyes, she’s still there. Real and present and just as fucked up as you are. And she’s smiling.

You lean into her, catching your breath. Danielle’s panting too, happy to let you carry her weight, and so content. Back to being so smug. Another round of fucking might fix that.

“Told you we’d be perfect together.”

“You told me a lot of things.”

Danielle's lips meet the back of your hand. Your wrist, up your forearm. Says, “I also told you that I’d have you screaming my name so loud you wouldn’t be able to speak.”

"I said that."

"And yet here I am, voice still intact."

You roll your eyes, take a slow, careful step back. Your cock slips out, accompanied by a groan and a splash of cum hitting the floor between your feet. Danielle’s laughing, still shivering in your arms, body still quaking with aftershocks. You kiss her back, her neck, her shoulder, her ear.

Anything to keep her here.

Finally, the taps are turned off, and Danielle shifts in your arms. Cheeks flushed, eyes half-open, but undoubtedly—satisfied.

You manage a weak chuckle. “What now?”

Danielle takes you by the chin, plants a kiss on your lips and yeah, this feels right, this feels like providence, and this is going to last until the universe says otherwise, and even then. “Now?” She says, and another kiss, on your chin, on your cheek, down your chest and lower and lower and, “Now, I go back to your room, and you come with me, and we do this all over until we pass out.”

—

Again, there’s the kiss.

Only you’re both on your bed, and it’s peppered down the underside of your cock. Then her tongue's dragging along your shaft, staining it in her glossy saliva. Slow and languid. More occupied with enjoying her new favourite toy than your pleasure. It’s the simple things, you guess.

And as she’s doing it, she’s talking. Planning out the rest of your day, your lives, you realise, and you’re just nodding along like you’re listening, but all you’re hearing is the wet smack of her lips around your cock, her tongue lolling and swiping around the head.

You look down at her, and she’s smiling, so goddamn happy, your heart fucking splits in half.

She’s curled up against your thigh, and she kisses into your cock, "God, I could never get tired of this."

"Really?"

Danielle pulls away, a sad pout on her lips, and you realise you may have offended her. Repeats, with emphasis, "Your slut."

And it's funny how easily that assuages you. You probably should be worried. Maybe deal with the very likely outcome that this will not end well—reality tends to have complications that the simplicity of just lying in bed with an impossibly beautiful woman cannot anticipate.

Yet, it's okay to just believe for a second that things will be alright. It's okay to lean back into the pillows and let her have her way. Let her suck you until you're seeing stars, and then climb on top of you again and fuck you until you've forgotten how to function and you can't even see past your nose, let alone whatever comes the morning after.

"Of course, I'll remember that."

"And here I am doing my best to make you never forget, Daddy."

Only, one final, stupid, silly little question—"I never asked, how did you know the code to my apartment?"

Danielle laughs, letting your cock pop out from her lips, stifling her giggles against your thigh. "My sister's birthday. Got it first try."

"Ah," you answer, and then, "Fuck. Probably should get that changed."

"Definitely should get it changed," she answers, then tacking on, "Especially if I'm going to be spending more time here."

"Even more than you already are?"

Danielle just grabs her hair in her fist, loops it around and tightens it into a makeshift ponytail. Lifts her chin and looks up at you. Defiant. "Where else would I go?"

And for now, it'll have to be enough, because really, all you can think of, as she sinks her lips back down onto your cock, takes you deep into her throat, and her eyes start to water and you're already throbbing and ready to release, is that she's claimed total victory over you, and for that alone you'll let her have it all.

To the winner, goes the spoils.

Everything she wants, everything she needs.

With a gasp, Danielle lifts her head up; pre-cum, saliva, drool falling off her lips and grins so fucking adorably that you're already thinking of rushing towards words that she’ll never let you take back.

She reads it on your face, sees it take shape on your lips and stops you. Her hand reaches up to cover your mouth, her eyes wide and gleaming.

“At least let a girl earn it first.”

And so you let it rest, because right now you’re exactly where you should be—in your bed, nearly reduced to a puddle of basic needs, with Danielle in your sweatshirt with all her otherworldly beauty and loveliness straddled right on top of you.

Her mouth full of you, your heart full of her.

"I know right? And the fact that we get to watch them perform live tomorrow for the first time??? This is going to be the best 48 hours of my life." Jake said.

"I can't wait to meet Minji. She's the one I want to talk the most with." Max said.

"What about you guys? Alex? Jake? Which member do you want to meet the most?"

"Haerin for sure. That girl melts my heart." Jake said.

"I will go for Danielle. She's so hot." I said.

"Well, we will meet them all, so I'm excited about every one of them." Jake said.

"I just hope we get in. I've been to multiple fan meet events. The lines are so big, they always have a person cut the line and tell the fans to leave, because they will not get in." Max said.

"Man, I hope that doesn't happen. I will be devastated if we don't get in. Doors will only open in five hours. I don't want to sit in a line for five hours, and then wait whatever time it takes these huge ass line in front of us to move forward, just to not get in." I said, already fearing the worst.

Thankfully, we came prepared. We brought a backpack with a bunch of food, water and snacks to keep us full, our NewJeans merch, and our phones and headphones. All we did until 3:00 PM was eat and listen to music. I had no idea what Jake and Max were listening, but if I had to take a guess, I would probably say NewJeans, which was exactly what I was listening, my favourite songs being ETA and Super Shy.

Despite all this, the time went by incredibly slowly, but sure enough, eventually it was 3:00 PM, and the doors opened. This, however, changed nothing for us, as the line moved just as slow as the time did. Two hours passed, and the three of us were still outside the shopping center, and the fear that we might not get in was starting to kick in.

That fear only grew bigger when we saw a security guard move towards us. Thankfully, he moved pass us, but he did do what we feared. He cut the line several meters behind us, much to the despair of everyone behind it. I couldn't even begin to imagine what those people felt, having their dreams of meeting their idols crushed by a very big, black security guard.

One hour passed since the security guard came, and we were still outside. By now, my legs and my back were killing me, and I could tell Max and Jake were struggling as well. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, trying to ease the ache in my legs. Jake leaned against the wall, rubbing his lower back, while Max kept bouncing on his heels to keep his circulation going.

To make things worse, the security guard came back, and he stopped right next to us, looking at the long line.

"Right here. Everyone behind the line, you can go. There will be no time for you to meet NewJeans." He said, as I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces.

"No...you can't do this. We've been in this line since 10:00 AM!!!" Max said.

"This is so unfair." Jake added.

"I'm sorry, man. It's just way too many people."

"Dude, we came all the way over from Europe. Please, I'm begging you. We don't have tickets for their concert tomorrow, too. This is the only chance we will probably ever get to meet them." I said, pulling out my best sad face.

I could see that he was thinking about it deeply. He wanted to let us in, but he didn't know if he should.

"Ugh, fine. Line ends after you three. No more people will see NewJeans." He said.

"Thank you so much, sir." Jake said.

"Yeah, yeah..." The security guard responded, before going away.

"Oh my god, Alex...well played. I can't believe he fell for that. You are such a brilliant liar."

"Thanks, ah ah. I can't believe that worked too."

Thankfully for us, the security guard never came back, and three hours later, we were finally inside. It was just a bit over 9:00 PM, and I could finally see the NewJeans members. The lines were settled in a way that every fan had to go in the same order of members: Minji first, then Hyein, Hanni, Haerin, and finally Danielle.

There wasn't that many people inside the shopping center, and the closer we got to the NewJeans girls, the more quiet it got. A lot of the security had also left, to the point that there were only two security guards inside by the time we finally came face to face with Minji.

Our conversation went smoothly. I was beyond happy, and I could tell that Max and Jake were also in dreamland. She signed all of our merch, and we moved on to Hyein. As soon as we had moved on from Minji, I noticed her getting out of her seat, leaving the table. I don't know why that confused me, but I always thought she would wait for the rest of the members so that they could all leave together, but I guess that didn't happen.

Much like our talk with Minji, the meeting with Hyein, Hanni and Haerin went the same way, and just like that, we were the only fans still inside the shopping center, and we were ready to meet the last NewJeans member, Danielle.

"Hey, Dani. The others and I will be waiting in the car. Don't take too long." Haerin said, before leaving the area.

"Sure thing. I only have these three cute boys to take care off, how are you guys?" She asked, almost making me faint on the spot, as I couldn't believe she had just called me cute.

"Oh my god, hi. I love you so much. My name is Alex, and this is Max and this is Jake." I said, introducing us all, unable to hold back my excitement, as I started putting the merch on the table for her to sign, and Max and Jake followed suit.

"So, what brings you guys here?"

"Well, you girls, obviously." Jake responded.

"Are you coming to the concert tomorrow?"

"Yes, we are. We can't wait. It's the first time that we are going to see you girls live." Max said.

"Oh, that's great. We can't wait to have you there."

"How has your day been?" I asked.

For the first time during our conversation, Danielle stopped signing our things, and she looked me right in the eyes, almost in shock.

"Oh my god...you are like, the first person that has asked me that today."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I'm like, so tired. And I am starving."

"Well, my mom owns a small fast food restaurant just down the road. You could come with us if you want. We are also hungry. We've been sitting in the line since 10:00 AM." I said.

"Jesus, you poor guys. All that effort just to see us. I really appreciate it. I could really use a burger right now, not gonna lie, but I'm an idol. I can't go with you guys, I hope you can understand that."

"Oh, come on, Dani. Of course you can. We can be there in like five minutes. You have to try my moms burgers. She is the best cook ever."

"I would love to go with you guys, but I can't be recognized in public with three fans."

"It's super dark outside and there is probably nobody inside my moms' restaurant right now. Plus, unless you are Blackpink member, nobody is going to recognize you here in America."

"Mmmm, I guess you're right."

"The burgers are on the house by the way, if that helps." I said, making Danielle chuckle, as if she didn't have money to buy the whole goddamn restaurant.

She pondered for quite a long time, as she kept signing away our merch. I was super nervous, and I really wanted her to say yes, just so that I could talk to her some more and look at her beautiful face.

"I might not be an idol, but I know and understand what you go through. Your life might seem perfect on the outside, but I know it isn't. The busy schedules, the paparazzi, the haters, and lord knows what's in your contract that says what you can and can't do. For one night only, try to live a little. Come with us. It's just for food." I said, trying my best to convince her.

Danielle twirled the marker cap between her fingers, before tapping it repeatedly on the table, her gaze shifting between the emptying space around her and the three of us standing by the table. She leaned back slightly, her expression thoughtful, almost calculating.

“When was the last time you really had fun?”

“Goshhhhhh, so long ago, I can’t even remember.” Dani said with an exaggerated groan, her lips pulling into a small, wistful smile.

“It’s been...a lot of work lately.”

Danielle's gaze flicked between the three of us before landing on me. For a moment, I felt completely exposed, like she was peeling back every layer of my personality just by looking. At roughly six feet tall, I’d always thought I had a solid presence—enough to get noticed but never overwhelming. I could only hope my slightly messy hair, a casualty of the long hours in line, didn’t make me look completely ridiculous. Her eyes lingered just a little longer, and I caught myself wondering if she noticed the faint definition in my arms, the product of gym sessions I’d probably exaggerated when talking to my friends.

Jake and Max had their own charm—Jake with his sharp features and easy laugh, and Max with that natural charisma that could win over just about anyone. Together, we must’ve looked harmless enough, just three guys thrilled to be standing in front of someone we admired. The way Danielle’s expression softened, and her shoulders loosened, made me think we’d managed to put her at ease, at least a little.

"See, so come with us. Let loose for a night. You deserve it."

“Do you guys even have a car?” She asked, her tone light but still with a trace of skepticism about the whole thing.

"Yeah, I have. It's right outside. Clean interior too, I promise." I said, which resulted in a long sigh by Danielle followed by a small giggle.

"You won't give up, will you? Fine, I'll go with you guys, but I need to be back at the hotel before midnight, or else I'm going to get in so much trouble with my manager."

"Oh my god, I can't believe it. Yes, deal. Don't worry about it. It won't take long. We can take you there after we eat." I said, feeling absolutely delighted by the fact that she had accepted our offer.

"Alright. Just let me text Haerin real quick to let her know I won't be going with them."

Danielle quickly started tapping away on her phone, while the three of us were waiting patiently for her to finish, so that we could go.

"Okay, done. I'm all yours until midnight. Lead the way, guys."

The three of us lead her outside and into our car. It was already quite dark outside, so luckily Dani wasn't recognized on our way to the car, and after a quick five-minute drive, we arrived at my mom's restaurant. It was very rare for her to have customers this late in the night, and thankfully, we were the only ones there.

"Hi mom. How's it going?"

"The usual at these hours. Nothing to do, just wrapping up to go home. What are you doing here this late at night?"

"Grabbing some food, what do you think?"

"Oh, yeah? What do you want?"

"My favorite, of course."

"What do you guys want?" I asked, turning to the others.

"I'll take a double bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a Coke." Jake said, after thoroughly scanning the menu above the counter.

"I'll have a chicken sandwich with extra pickles, curly fries, and a Sprite." Max said.

"Good choice, Max." My mom chimed in, scribbling their orders down.

"What do you recommend, Alex? You know this place better than anyone." Danielle asked, her shifting between the menu and me.

"Hmm...it depends on what you’re in the mood for. If you’re starving, the BBQ burger is amazing—tons of flavor, and my mom’s sauce is the best. But if you’re feeling lighter, the grilled chicken salad is pretty popular too."

"You had me at BBQ burger. I like to feel full.” She said with a playful smirk that made my heart skip a beat.

"Great choice." My mom said with a warm smile, jotting it down before glancing back at me.

"Forgive me for asking, but I don't recognize you. Are you his new girlfriend?" My mom added, making my face turn red instantly.

"Wha—no! She’s just a friend! Well, not even—uh—we just met. She’s..."

"No, no! We’re not dating. I've just met him, actually." Danielle responded, as she briefly burst out laughing, clearly finding the whole situation hilarious.

"Alright, alright." My mom said with a knowing smirk, clearly enjoying my embarrassment. I cleared my throat, desperate to change the subject.

"Anyways, let’s grab a booth. Food won’t take long."

We settled into the corner booth, and Danielle sat right next to me, with Max and Jake sitting right in front of us. I was beyond nervous by the fact that the girl of my dreams was literally just centimeters away from me. It was a miracle that my heart hadn't bursted out of my chest yet.

"Your mom seems really nice. This place is cute, too. I can’t wait to try the food." Danielle commented.

"Thank you. You have no idea how happy it makes me that you're here. It's been such an honor to meet you and get the chance to talk to you." I said, feeling a little more at ease now.

The food didn't take long, and once we got it, all four of us started eating like we had never seen food in our lives. We kept on talking between bites, and Danielle was a lot more comfortable around us.

The four of us finished our meals, the conversation flowing easily and punctuated with laughter. Danielle leaned back in her seat with a content sigh.

"This was amazing. Thank you so much for bringing me here." She said, patting her stomach.

"Ah, you’re welcome. I’m just glad you enjoyed it."

"It's getting late. I really need you to take me to my hotel."

"No problem. Let's get going then." I said, thanking my mom for the food.

Danielle, Max and Jake chimed in with their own expressions of gratitude to my mom, who waved us off with a warm smile as we left the restaurant.

The drive to Danielle’s hotel was short but filled with easy chatter, the kind of banter that made it feel like we’d known each other for longer than just an hour or so.

When we pulled up outside the Pendry Chicago hotel, the bustling energy of the city seemed to melt into the quiet hum of the upscale lobby.

Danielle led the way to the elevator, and we followed her to the top floor, where her suite was located. As we stepped out, we spotted her manager standing near her door, his phone in hand. His stressed expression immediately softened with relief when he saw her.

"Danielle! Oh my god, where have you been?! I’ve been trying to reach you for hours!"

"I was just walking around the city." She replied casually, brushing off his concern.

"Walking around the city?" He repeated, his tone rising in disbelief.

"You know you can’t do that. It’s not safe, and it’s definitely not allowed!"

"And these three? Who are they?" He asked, glancing warily at me, Max, and Jake.

"Just some guys I met tonight." She said with a nonchalant shrug.

Before he could respond, Danielle turned to her door, pulling out her keycard. She pushed it open and glanced back at us with a raised brow.

"You guys coming in or what?"

My jaw practically hit the floor. Was she serious? I blinked a few times, trying to process what she’d just said. Slowly, I turned to look at Max and Jake, who were standing just behind me on either side. They looked just as shocked as I felt, their expressions almost comical as they pointed at themselves in unison, as if to say, 'Who? Us?'

I opened my mouth to respond, but her manager beat me to it.

"Absolutely not!" He exclaimed, stepping forward.

"You know it’s against the rules in your contract to have anyone in your room, let alone—"

"Let alone three guys I just met?" Danielle cut him off, her tone sharp and defiant.

"I don’t give a fuck about the stupid rules in my contract or what Hybe or Ador think. I’m not a child, and I sure as hell don’t need a babysitter."

"Danielle…" The manager’s voice softened, almost pleading.

"Look..." She interrupted, her voice lowering as she stepped closer to him.

"Keep this between us, and I’ll make sure you’re…rewarded, at another time."

The manager hesitated, clearly conflicted, before letting out a defeated sigh.

"Fine. But this better not come back to haunt me. And your reward better be good, like last time."

"It will not come back to haunt you, don't worry. Also, have you ever been disappointed by my rewards?" Danielle said firmly, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.

The manager gulped and shook his head. Danielle smirked before she turned back to us and gestured inside.

"Well? Are you guys coming in or not?"

We exchanged uncertain glances, but none of us hesitated for long before slipping past her manager and stepping into her suite.

The moment I stepped inside, I was struck by the understated luxury of the space. The room was sleek and modern, yet cozy, with warm wood tones and elegant furnishings that gave it an inviting feel. A plush king-sized bed dominated the left side of the room, its crisp white linens perfectly arranged. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across the far wall, revealing a stunning view of the Chicago skyline glittering under the night sky.

A stylish seating area featured a curved velvet sofa and a low marble coffee table. On the side, a large desk sat near the window, holding an arrangement of fresh flowers and a leather-bound notepad stamped with the Pendry logo. To the right, I noticed a doorway leading to the marble bathroom, which I could see featured a soaking tub and a walk-in rain shower.

"Wow..." I whispered.

Jake and Max followed closely behind me, each of them equally awestruck.

"This is insane, man..." Jake said.

"It’s just a hotel room. You guys act like you’ve never seen one before." Danielle said, whilst chuckling, clearly amused by our reactions.

"Forgive me for breaking up this little moment, but what are we exactly doing here?" Max asked.

"Well...I like you guys, and I just simply wasn't ready to end the night. Plus, I love making my manager mad."

"So, what do you wanna do?" I asked.

"Hmmmm...I don't know..." She said.

"How about we play truth or dare?" Max asked.

"Or maybe...we could play spin the bottle!" Jake added.

"Why not both? We spin the bottle, and the person who spins it has to ask whoever it lands on either truth or dare."

"Sounds like fun. Count me in." I said.

Danielle stood up with a small, thoughtful smile and walked over to grab a glass bottle of water from the mini fridge.

We all moved to the plush, beige carpet in the center of the suite. Its fluffy texture felt inviting and warm beneath us as we formed a loose circle. Danielle placed the bottle in the middle, and we all exchanged excited but nervous looks before the first spin.

The initial rounds were hesitant, filled with safe, uninspired choices. Everyone seemed cautious, with most opting for truth, while dares remained untouched. Whenever one of us guys spun the bottle, and it landed on another guy, it led to awkward laughter and an immediate "truth" declaration. The room remained lighthearted, but the game had yet to gain momentum. It felt like everyone was testing the waters, unsure of how far to push the boundaries.

That wasn't until Danielle took her turn. Her bottle landed on me, and my heart rate skyrocketed.

"So, what'll it be, Alex? Truth or dare?"

"Let's change it up, for once. Dare."

"Mmmm...I dare you to give me a foot massage all the way until my next turn."

"A foot massage?"

"Yep. My feet are killing me." She replied, lifting her legs and resting her feet in my lap.

Danielle’s feet rested lightly in my lap as I hesitated, trying to figure out how to start. Her socks were pristine white, the kind that looked soft to the touch. My fingers pressed gently into the fabric, testing the waters.

"You know...you can take them off..." Dani casually said.

My hands stilled, and I glanced up, searching her face for any sign that she might be joking. She wasn’t. Her expression was calm but expectant, like she was enjoying my flustered reaction.

“Uh…okay.” I muttered, tugging gently at the hem of one sock. The material slid off smoothly, revealing her bare foot. It was delicate, her toes neatly shaped, her skin soft and slightly pink from being in the sock. I swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of the intimacy of the moment.

“Much better.” She said, smiling as she wiggled her cute toes.

The second sock came off just as easily, and with her bare feet resting in my lap, the massage resumed. My thumbs worked into her arch with a bit more confidence, gliding over the smooth skin. Her foot was warm under my touch, and every so often, I caught her shifting slightly, relaxing into the sensation.

"Hmmm...that feels so nice." She said softly, leaning back on her hands with a satisfied sigh.

I tried to focus, but the quiet approval in her tone made it nearly impossible to ignore the heat creeping up my neck. Across from me, Jake and Max were barely containing themselves. Jake raised his eyebrows in disbelief, while Max shot me a thumbs-up, a grin plastered on his face.

I ignored them, focusing instead on Danielle’s feet. The game continued around us, but I barely noticed. Every so often, Danielle let out a contented hum, her feet shifting slightly as I adjusted the pressure.

"Alex? Alex???"

"What?" I asked, snapping out of it.

"Truth or dare?" Max asked. I was ready to just say truth, but he started moving his mouth in an exaggerated manner, almost like he was giving me a signal, and mouthing something along the lines of 'dare'.

"Dare."

"I dare you...to lick one of Danielle's foot."

The moment Max dropped the dare, the whole atmosphere shifted. A stunned silence settled over the group, the playful energy from earlier replaced with a mix of shock and nervous laughter. Jake widened his eyes, leaning back slightly, as if trying to process what he’d just heard. Danielle raised an eyebrow, her expression caught somewhere between amused curiosity and disbelief, her lips curling into a faint, teasing smirk. The tension hung in the air, not heavy or uncomfortable, but charged with the awkward excitement of a challenge that pushed boundaries.

Even though I wasn't that much into feet, given it was Danielle, I obviously wanted to do it, but I didn't know if she wanted it or not, and I wasn't going to risk this nice time we were all having, and potentially ruining a possible friendship with her. That was until of course, she decided to speak up.

"Well?" Danielle's voice cut through the silence, her tone light and teasing.

"Are you going to keep me waiting, or are you going to get started?" She said, tilting her head slightly, her smirk daring me to back down, but I wasn't going to, not now that she had given me the green light.

That being said, I was still a bit nervous, something she picked it up very quickly.

"Don’t worry, Alex. I’m not going to bite." Dani said, as she immediately put her foot on my face and started pinching my nose with her toes, giggling like a little girl, before I swatted it away, with a chuckle.

Her laugh was music to my ears, and it was enough to ease my nerves and give me the confidence boost I needed.

Without wasting another second, I gently grabbed her foot, and brought it up to my face. I gave a quick glance at her beautiful face before shifting my attention to her foot and started licking the sole.

As soon as my tongue hit her skin, Danielle tensed. Her toes curled, and a slight tremor ran through her leg. I paused, worried that she had changed her mind. But then, I caught the edge of her smirk, the slightest hint of pink in her cheeks, and I kept going.

Her foot had a salty, slightly sweet flavor, the taste of sweat mixing with something else, a softness that was undeniably feminine, yet strangely intoxicating. The more I licked, the more I wanted to explore her delicate curves and taste every inch.

My tongue dragged slowly over her heel, her arch, the top of her foot. Every inch of skin tasted clean, her natural scent mixing with a subtle, flowery aroma from her lotion.

She let out a quiet breath, her lips parting slightly as she relaxed. A small smile played on her face, her eyes half-lidded and unfocused, like she was enjoying the sensation.

Once I got to her toes, I dragged my tongue along each one, giving a teasing suck, before I put her big toe in my mouth and began sucking on it.

"Ohhh...fuck..." She whispered. Her eyes closed, and her head tilted back, her lips parting as she let out a breathy moan.

The sound sent a shiver of arousal through me, and I instinctively tugged on her toe, pulling it further into my mouth. Danielle gasped, her body arching, her eyes fluttering open.

"Ah, that tickles..." She said, giggling before pulling her foot away, and putting it on my chest.

"I'm sorry. I'm quite sensitive."

"You have nothing to be sorry about. It's perfectly normal." I said.

Danielle smiled briefly, before putting her foot away, and we resumed the game shortly after. She spun the bottle and it landed on Max.

"Dare."

"Whoa, you didn't even let me ask you, ah ah."

"Okay...hmmm...let me think..."

"How about this...I dare you to take off your shirt."

Danielle’s dare left the room in stunned silence for a moment. Jake and I exchanged wide-eyed glances, trying to process if we had heard her correctly. Max, meanwhile, froze mid-laugh, his bravado faltering for just a second before he quickly composed himself.

"You serious?" He asked, leaning back slightly as if to gauge her intentions. Danielle nodded, an innocent smile on her face that somehow made her dare feel even bolder.

"What? It's not that big of a deal." She said with a playful shrug, her tone light but undeniably teasing.

"Wait, really? Do you really want me to do that?"

"Yes, really. I'm already partially naked, so it's only fair someone else is also a bit naked." She said, wiggling her naked feet and toes around.

"Alright, no problem. I did not see that coming." He muttered under his breath, as he stood up and removed his shirt, revealing his well-built chest and abs, causing her to widen her eyes in surprise.

"Woah...your body is pretty amazing."

"Thanks..." Max said, blushing slightly before sitting back down.

"Alright, my turn now." I said.

I span the bottle and I finally managed to get it to land on Danielle.

"Truth or dare."

"Hmmm...truth." She said, much to my disappointment. I really thought she would've gone with dare at this point of the game, but maybe she just wanted to change it up. I quickly tried to come up with something to ask her.

"Uhmmm, okay...I got one. Have you ever made out with one of your bandmates?" I asked, and I saw Danielle's smile grow bigger and bigger. She didn't even try to hide it.

"I have...I won't lie, I have."

"Do you...care to say which member?"

"You only get one question per turn, Alex."

Unfortunately, I never did get that answer, as for the next few turns, Danielle was getting way too lucky with the spins, with the bottle somehow always avoiding her. That was until Jake spun it, and it landed on Danielle, after what felt like three or four full rotations.

"Truth or dare, Dani?"

"Dare." She said, avoiding truth at all cost, so that she wouldn't have to share who her NewJeans make out buddy was.

"I dare you...to kiss whoever you think the hottest guy in this room is."

At that moment, I thought there was no chance she would go through with it, but when she started scanning the three of us, it looked like she was genuinely thinking about this and going through with it.

Needless to say, I really wanted her to pick me. I was so nervous about the fact that it could happen that I didn't even see her looking at me. Our eyes met, and she quickly nodded two times. I barely had any time to process it before I saw her lean forward on her knees and plant a kiss on my lips.

The kiss was soft and delicate, just like her lips. Her scent enveloped me, and the taste of her sweet lips lingered, leaving me yearning for the moment to continue.

She pulled away before I could kiss her back, leaving me stunned and speechless, a charged silence hanging between us. Her eyes met mine again, and at that moment, I just couldn't resist her any longer.

I instinctively moved my hand to her waist, pulling her closer to me, right before planting my lips on hers. She wrapped her arms around my neck, her fingers tangling in my hair as we lost ourselves in the kiss, our bodies pressed together, a heat building between us.

This felt like it had been building up ever since we met just a few hours ago, and now that it was finally happening, all I wanted was for this moment to last forever.

It didn't though. Danielle pulled away rather quickly, breaking the kiss, but for good reason. She put her hands on my shirt, and began pulling it upwards.

"I think you're wearing way too many clothes, Alex."

As soon as my shirt was off, she kissed me again, but instead of going for it again and resuming our make out session, she stopped, and began crawling towards Jake, who had his jaw on the floor.

"Do y..."

"Shhh, shut up." She said, cutting him off with a kiss, as the two started making out.

Just like she did with me, she only stopped to take off his shirt, revealing his muscular chest, and then went back to making out with him.

I didn't know what was going on in her head, or why she was doing this, but it was pretty clear that she was enjoying herself, and was definitely enjoying the moment.

Their moment didn't last long, as Dani pulled away and shifted to her right, hoping to get to Max, only to find out he had gone behind and around her to join me by my side. She crawled to him, and he dropped down to her height, putting his hand lightly around her neck and making her look right into his eyes, before he started kissing her.

Danielle and Max kept kissing, and unlike with Jake and I, she didn't have to worry about taking off his shirt, as it was already off from earlier. They kept kissing for a while longer, before Max stood up, breaking their kiss.

What Dani did next surprised me even more, but was something that I had no issue with, and neither did Max if I had to take a guess. Danielle put one of her hands on his jeans whilst she put the other one on mine, and started rubbing both of our crotches at the same time.

"All of you are wearing way too many clothes."

"Wanna do something about it?" Jake asked.

I could see Danielle's smirk creep up again, and before I knew it, she had taken her hand off my crotch and put it on his. I had Danielle right in front of me, on her knees looking up at me as her hands kept rubbing Max's and Jake's bulges through their pants.

"I would love to do something about it."

Before anyone could respond, Danielle leaned in and put her face right in front of my bulge. She started rubbing her nose and lips all over it, and it took me a few moments to realize what she was trying to do.

At first, I thought she was only trying to tease me, but all of a sudden I saw her with my zipper between her teeth, and felt my pants slide down, at the exact same time she pulled Jake and Max's jeans down with her hands.

"Ah...much better." She said, another smile forming on her face.

"Dani, this is crazy!" Jake said.

"Shhh...just keep this between us."

"You don't have to worry." I said.

"Hmmm, good, because I really need this."

"I really need all of your cocks." She added, and just like she did with my zipper, she somehow managed to put the elastic band of my underwear between her teeth and pull it down, revealing my throbbing cock that hit her right on her chin.

"Oh, wow..." She said, her eyes widening in awe.

"Clean shaven, just how I like em'."

The sight of seeing my cock right next to Danielle's perfect face was one that was burned into my brain forever. Her lips were so close to my tip, and I could sense how badly she wanted it.

Jake and Max broke my little moment with her moans and I took a quick glance to realize Danielle already had her hands wrapped around their cocks, jerking them off.

"You have no idea how badly I need you guys."

Seeing them getting pleasured by her made me want the exact same thing, and she knew that.

With her eyes locked on mine, Danielle leaned in and started planting a few kisses on the tip of my cock, sending chills throughout my body. Her lips felt so soft, and the wet sensation from her tongue felt incredible.

"Mmm, fuck, Dani..." I moaned.

"Does that feel good?" She asked, smiling and pulling away briefly.

"So good..."

She leaned in again to get closer to my cock, but this time, I decided to play hard to get, and move my cock away, and put it against her face.

"Nooooooo...please, don't do that." She said, pouting and giving me puppy dog eyes, as if I had taken away her favourite toy.

"Do what?" I asked, to which it earned a roll of the eyes from her.

"Tell me what you want, Dani."

"I wanna suck your dick."

"Is that really what you want?"

"Yes. It's so big, and it looks so tasty and delicious."

"I just want it buried down my throat, please." She added, opening her mouth wide and sticking out her tongue. I couldn't resist her any longer, even if I wanted.

I grabbed hold of my dick and guided it straight into her mouth, letting her warm breath and tongue engulf my tip. I had dreamt of this moment more times than I could remember, but none of my dreams could live up to the reality of having Danielle's lips around my cock.

Deep down, I really wanted to grab her head and push her further down my cock, but I decided against it. I was more than happy to let her go at her own slow pace, and enjoy the feeling of having her suck the tip of my dick.

Danielle kept on bobbing her head back and forth, swirling her tongue around my cock, her lips wrapped tightly around it. I was in disbelief on how she managed to look so beautiful with my dick in her mouth.

"I honestly don't know how do you manage to look like an angel whilst pleasuring all of our cocks at once."

"That's because I am an angel, but I can switch it up if you guys want. I can be your naughty little cumslut for the night."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah. Do you guys want that?"

"Absolutely. Get over here." Max said, grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling her over to him, guiding his cock inside her mouth.

He didn't force her to take his cock down her throat like I thought he was going to, instead just letting Dani suck his dick however she pleased. Danielle however was the one that surprised me, by rapidly sucking his cock from the very moment she had Max's dick in her mouth.

I didn't know how she managed to go from cute and innocent whilst pleasuring us to a total slut in just a matter of seconds, but I wasn't going to complain, not even for a second.

"Fuck, Dani, you are insane..." He moaned, bringing a smile to her face as she continued to pleasure him, all whilst stroking Jake and I at the same time.

When Danielle finally let Max's hard cock flop out of her mouth, and moved over to Jake to take him in into her warm throat, she replaced the left hand she had on my shaft with her right. When she reached out for Max's cock with her left hand and began stroking us off whilst rapidly sucking Jake, I knew this was far from the first time she's handled multiple dicks at once.

The three of us had shared quite a fair share of women between us over the years, and even though none of them were a celebrity like Danielle, we could still spot an experienced woman when we saw one. The way she never let us go unattended, and the way her hand and mouth switched between the three of us, proved that this wasn't her first rodeo.

"You seem to know what you're doing." Jake said, letting out a deep moan as she went all the way down on him.

"It's not the first time I've had three dicks around me."

"Oh, really? Do tell."

"Maybe later. I'm quite busy right now." She said, putting her lips around my shaft and starting to suck me off again.

Her sucking was more aggressive and rougher than last time, almost as if she wanted my cock to be dripping with saliva. Every single one of her slurps were loud and lewd, and it was clear that she wanted all of us to hear them.

"Fuckkk, all of your cocks taste so fucking good."

"Yeah?"

"Mmmh mmmh...I could suck your big cocks all night long."

It was clear to me that she wanted nothing more than to be passed around the three of us, and to be used for our pleasure, so I decided to use that to our advantage.

"I bet you could. Do you want us to take turns with you?"

"Mmh mmmh..." She moaned, nodding as she kept sucking my cock.

"I want to get fucked by all of you...I want you guys to use me like a fuckdoll."

"I wanna deepthroat that big dick of yours...make it nice and wet, then have you shove it down my tight little pussy."

"Then have you rail me, and make me scream as I take all of your huge cock deep inside me."

"I just want all of you to make me your little cumslut."

"Is that really what you want?"

"It's what I need."

"Prove it, Dani." I said, knowing full well that she was going to take that challenge.

She took a deep breath and opened her mouth, inviting me in, and I wasted no time pushing myself inside her. Danielle relaxed her throat and took every inch of me in, deepthroating my whole length until her lips meeting my pelvis, and her nose buried in my groin.

"Fuckkk, Dani...you're so fucking hot with my cock shoved down your throat.

"Mmmhh."

Danielle moaned around my cock, and looked up at me, her eyes watering slightly, but not even a hint of pain on her face. Her tongue ran along the bottom of my shaft, massaging it, and she kept bobbing her head back and forth, gagging a few times but never stopping.

Danielle was an absolute menace, and she was driving me wild. She put her hands around my legs and started pushing her head further down my cock, essentially impaling herself on it.

She held it there, my cock buried deep down her throat, her eyes closed, tears streaming down her cheeks. Then, her grip on my legs tightened, and she pulled back, slowly, her eyes widening, gasping for air.

"Fuck...so good. I love sucking big cocks like yours so much." She said, before she took a quick breath and went straight back down, her head bobbing faster and faster.

Her lips were wrapped tight around me, her tongue swirling and dancing along my length. It was clear she was trying to drain my balls and milk me for all I had, and I had no issue with it.

"I love how thick and hard your cock feels in my mouth."

Danielle might've been the one that was doing all the work, but it was me who was exhausted, and I could barely catch my breath. Never in a million year I thought I would ever be in this position, with Dani on her knees in front of me, my hard cock in her hand.

I could only stand there and moan her name, as she ran her tongue along the underside of my shaft, before popping my balls into her mouth, her tongue flicking over them as her hand ran up and down my dick.

"Ah...fuckkk, Dani..."

"You like that, baby?"

"Yes, it feels incredible."

"Good. I wanna make you feel so good." She said, resuming her blowjob with added intensity.

Danielle rapidly started sucking and stroking my cock at the same time, slurping all over it, her lips making lewd and sloppy noises. I was mesmerized by her, and the way her eyes rolled back every time her head bobbed forward.

The only thing better than her hands and lips on my dick was the fact that I was about to feel the tightest and wettest hole imaginable. My cock was throbbing in her mouth at the thought of getting to fuck her, and it was begging for release.

I tapped the back of her head to let her know I was about to blow, but, quite predictably, she didn't slow down, and instead she just bobbed her head even faster along my length for several seconds before deepthroating my cock in one swift motion, sending me to a point of no return.

"Fuck, Dani! I'm gonna fucking cum." I said as I held her head in place, making her gag on my cock, before my hips bucked forward as my orgasm hit me, and I started spurting hot ropes of cum to the back of her throat.

"Oh, fuck yes! Take all of my cum, Dani..."

Danielle gagged and choked as she took each and every shot down her throat, swallowing all of my load without wasting a single drop, and not stopping even when I let go of her.

I was still cumming when she pulled off, and some of my cum coated her lips and her chin, covering her in a thick layer of my seed.

"Fuck, I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself. I really wanted to taste your cum." She said, licking the cum off her lips and wiping her chin, before cleaning off her fingers and her palms, leaving no trace of my seed behind.

"Damn, you are such a slut, Dani." Max chimed in, for the greater good, as I really needed to catch my breath after my orgasm.

"Only when I want to..." She responded, grabbing hold of his cock and kissing his tip.

"Danielle, girl...before you have fun with Max and Jake...how about we get you naked." I said, struggling to get my words out.

"Oh my god, of course. I'm sorry. I was just so focused sucking your big cocks that I completely forgot that I still have my clothes on."

"It's alright. Come here."

Danielle quickly rose to her feet and I pulled her towards me, planting my lips on hers. We kissed for a couple of seconds before I spun her around. With her back against my chest, I started kissing her neck as I put hands on her shirt, and started pulling it up, revealing her sexy and perfect body, my hands immediately going to her chest and grabbing her tits.

Her breasts weren't big, but they were perfectly perky and had a nice round shape to them, with two adorable and cute little nipples on top.

I saw Max and Jake step closer and I knew what they wanted, so I started roaming my hands down her body as I lowered myself behind her. Danielle started moaning, and even though I couldn't see it, I knew they were having fun playing with her perky tits.

"Mmmm, fuck, yesss. Play with them...they're all yours."

I put my hands on her jeans and slid them down her legs, taking her panties off as I did so. Danielle was finally fully naked and ready to be used as she so badly desired.

I had the perfect view of her ass and pussy, the latter looking absolutely soaked. Her pussy was clean-shaven, not a hair in sight and her slit was glistening, her folds looking so smooth and soft.

Her cunt looked so inviting and I couldn't resist any longer. I moved a finger to her lips, running it up and down her slit, feeling how wet she was, her folds sticky and slippery at the same time.

"Mmmm, ohhh, Alex."

"You're already so fucking wet. Do you like sucking cock that much, Dani?"

"I do...I love it. Sucking cock gets me so horny, fuckkk." She moaned, when I inserted one of my fingers into her tight little hole.

"Yeah...I can see that. Do you want one in your pussy, baby?"

"Oh, fuck yes. I want you inside me."

"What about us, Dani? Do you want us inside you too?" Jake asked.

"God yes, I want you guys to use me."

"Do you think you can take all of us?" Max asked.

"Oh, I definitely can. All of your cocks are so big and thick and I can't wait to feel them inside me, but first, I want you two to take turns fucking my face and making me gag on your huge dicks whilst Alex rails me from behind." She said, whilst keeping a firm grip on their cocks.

"Is that really want you want, Dani?"

"Yes, please. I can't wait to get your big cock inside my pussy."

"Neither can I."

"Mmm, good, because I've been craving to be pounded by it."

"How do you want me?"

"On all fours, Dani." I said.

Danielle hastily got on the bed, assuming the position, and arched her back, her cute ass up in the air. I followed suit and positioned myself behind her, grabbing hold of her hips as I pushed the tip of my cock between her folds, sliding it up and down her slit, teasing her, but she was having none of it.

"Please, don't fucking tease me. I need you to fuck me right now. I can't wait any longer, Alex."

"Just stick that big fat cock of yours in me, fuck my brains out and ruin my pussy."

As much as I wanted to keep teasing her, I didn't want to get on her bad side, so I simply complied and pushed my dick past her folds and deep inside her pussy, making her squeal.

"Fuckkkk...god, you're so big and thick...this is just what I needed."

Her pussy was tight, but at the same time felt so wet and soft, and I could feel it squeezing my shaft as I slowly slid inside her.

"Ahhh, fuck, I could just stay like this forever. Your cock feels so good in me."

Her moans were music to my ears, but as much as I would've liked to savor the moment, I was desperate to fuck her brains out, so I pulled back, and slowly thrust into her again, letting her get used to my length and girth.

I could feel her juices run down my shaft and drip down her legs as I started picking up the pace, pounding her harder and faster with each passing second. Her tight little pussy felt amazing around my dick and it was impossible to not go fast and rough.

"Oh yesss...give it to me, Alex. Faster."

"And you two...come here and shove those cocks down my throat."

Max and Jake stood and watched our little show for a while before they decided to get in on the fun. They crawled on the bed, positioning themselves in front of Danielle.

Unsurprisingly for me, Max was the first one to take action, grabbing hold of her head and guiding his cock towards her open mouth. Danielle gladly took him, engulfing his cock completely and he didn't waste one second before he started face fucking her, using Dani for his pleasure.

"Take this cock, you fucking slut." He said, hammering away at her throat.

Danielle was moaning and whimpering around his cock, whilst her hands were busy playing with Jake's shaft, jerking him off.

It didn't take long before Jake got his opportunity to get a taste of her lips as Max pulled out, and Jake's dick entered her mouth, filling her up completely. Jake grabbed a fistful of her hair and held her head in place, as he started thrusting his hips back and forth, making her gag a few times.

"Holy shit, Dani, your throat is fucking amazing." He groaned, holding her head and pushing her further down his shaft, his cock disappearing down her throat, leaving her no room to breathe.

Danielle was a moaning mess, and the only thing she could do was take him deeper, her throat bulging and her eyes watering.

Soon enough, they started taking turns with Danielle's mouth, making her deepthroat their dicks for a couple of thrusts before passing her to the other.

Watching them both use her like a fuckdoll only added fuel to the fire, and the more she moaned and squealed, the rougher I fucked her.

I was balls deep inside her, her walls squeezing me with each one of my thrusts, and she was getting wetter by the second. My hands were moving up and down her back and her ass, and the sound of our skin slapping against each other was echoing through the room, mixing in with her muffled moans and their groans.

I couldn't stop myself from spanking her and slapping her ass, watching it jiggle every time my hand came in contact with her cheeks.

"God, you look so fucking hot getting railed from behind, Dani." Max said.

"Mmmmh. Alex...he's fucking me so good, goshhh."

"Yeah? Are you enjoying having our cocks shoved down your throat and pussy?"

"I am. I'm such a fucking slut for big dicks."

"Do you think you could handle both of our cocks in your tight little holes?" Jake asked.

"I would love nothing more than to have these two huge cocks inside my ass and my pussy." Danielle said, as she grabbed their shafts and pressed them together, before taking them both into her mouth, making her lips and jaw stretch wide.

Danielle's foul language made her even sexier and it was getting increasingly difficult to not just pound her and bust a nut. She was so tight and warm and wet and the way her pussy swallowed every inch of my dick, clenching and gripping it, was driving me crazy.

I knew that I had to slow down or else I was going to finish much earlier than I wanted, so I pulled out of Dani's tight cunt. I looked at her freshly fucked pussy and admired the sight in front of me. Her entrance was glistening and I could see a mixture of her juices and my pre-cum dripping out of her.

I couldn't help but reach out and rub her slit for a couple of seconds, before I dove in and started eating her out. Her cunt was even sweeter than her lips, and the taste was intoxicating.

My tongue explored her folds, flicking over her clit, making her hips buck and her ass push back against me. I could her moaning, but her voice was muffled. I could feel her getting wetter and wetter, and she tasted better than any other woman I had ever been with.

"Hey, Alex...could you give us a go? I'm dying to fuck her." Max said.

I knew how badly he and Jake wanted to have a go with her, but I wasn't ready to let go of her so soon.

"Just let me fuck her a little bit longer. She'll be yours in no time." I said, hurrying up to get my dick inside her.

Danielle was still devouring Jake and Max's cocks, making sure they were nice and wet for both of her holes when I slid myself into her again. I was determined to fuck her rough, and give her the pounding she wanted, and was no doubt begging for. I put my hands on her hips and started slamming into her, fucking her like as hard as I could, my hips slapping her ass.

Each thrust was fueling my lust for her, so I grabbed her hair with my right hand and pulled her off their cocks, pulling her towards my body and wrapping my left arm around her as I fucked her senseless, pounding her with deep and rapid thrusts, her perky tits bouncing wildly.

"Oh, fuck me, Alex. Yes, just like that. Do me hard, baby."

"You like getting fucked hard, don't you, Dani?" I asked, my arms now scattered around her perfect body, one playing with her tits and the other rubbing her clit.

Danielle was too lost in her ecstasy to answer and it wasn't long before she let out a scream, her pussy squirting on my shaft and coating it with her juices, before I let go of her, and she fell on the bed, right next to Jake and Max, who were stroking their hard cocks.

"Ahhh, fuck, oh goshhh." She moaned, her eyes rolling back, her orgasm sending waves of pleasure throughout her body.

"I.....I can't believe you just made me cum."

"I never cum with just one cock inside me." She added, making me smirk.

"Are you okay?" Jake asked, with a concerned look on his face.

"I...I couldn't possibly be better."

"She's all yours, guys." I said, making my way towards them so they could have a go at her.

"So.....which one of you guys is going to take my tiny little asshole?"

I didn't need a crystal ball to know the answer to Danielle's question, and the look on Max's face confirmed my suspicions. Danielle took a step to the side, allowing Jake to lay down on the bed.

"Come here, Dani." He said, beckoning her towards him.

Danielle slowly walked towards him and sat down on top of him, her pussy rubbing up and down his length.

"Oh, god. Fuck, your cock feels so good between my pussy lips."

"Mmmmh. It's about to feel even better."

Danielle rose to her knees, and took a hold of Jake's dick. She placed it at her entrance and slowly lowered herself, her pussy swallowing every inch of him.

"Ahhhh, fuck." She moaned, putting her hands on his chest, steadying herself as she looked into his eyes.

Max, meanwhile, positioned himself behind her, and began running his cock up and down her ass crack, his fingers caressing her soft and smooth cheeks.

"Are you ready, Dani?"

"Yes. Put it in and stretch me out."

I simply stood there in front of her, slowly stroking myself off whilst looking at her face, waiting for the moment her jaw would drop, and her mouth would open, and luckily, it didn't take long for that moment to arrive.

Danielle's mouth hung open, her eyes widening, as Max started pushing his cock past her tight little ring, sliding his dick inside her ass.

"Holy fuck...you're stretching me out so good. God, you're both so big."

"Yeah? Do you like the feeling of both of our cocks inside you, Dani?"

"Fuck, yes, I love it. I want you guys to make a slut out of me."

"Good, because we're just getting started." Max said, spanking her ass.

"Are you enjoying the show?" She suddenly asked, turning her attention to me, before licking her lips.

"I am." I replied, taking a step forward.

"Why don't you come a little closer so I can give you a kiss, Alex."

Without hesitation, I took a step forward and leaned in to kiss her, but she swatted my head away and shook her head.

"No, idiot...ah ah. Not that kind of kiss. I want your cock in my mouth, baby."

I honestly couldn't believe that a guy like me didn't catch on to that, but I quickly shook those thoughts away and put my dick right in her face. I slapped her face and her tongue with my hard cock before letting Danielle plant kisses all over my shaft, but mainly focusing on the tip of my cock.

I was so lost in the moment, that I hadn't realized that Max and Jake began thrusting in and out of her, their cocks moving in sync. Danielle's mouth was hanging open and I wasted no time putting my dick between her lips, filling her up completely.

Her eyes rolled back and I could tell that she was having a blast, and she wasn't the only one. I could hear the boys moan and groan and it was clear they were getting the same level of pleasure she was.

"You like having a cock in each hole, don't you, baby?" Max asked to no response, as I found out that Danielle would rather be airtight and keep bobbing her head up and down, taking me as deep as possible instead of replying.

The view of her head moving up and down my cock, her lips tightly wrapped around my dick and sliding down my shaft whilst both her holes were being penetrated and filled up with cock was mind-blowing and I knew it was going to send me over the edge sooner rather than later, so I momentarily stopped her, and pulled out of her mouth, not wanting to cum so soon.

"Fuck, why did you pull out? Put that cock back in my mouth, I wanna keep sucking it."

"I don't wanna cum so soon, and I really want to cover your face."

"Don't you dare cum on her face when I'm under her, mate. I don't wanna be in the line of fire when that happens." Jake replied, making Dani and I burst out laughing.

"Well, I guess I have to make you guys cum first, then."

I honestly thought things couldn't get any hotter, but when Danielle started bouncing on their dicks and riding them, they did. There was just something about seeing my two best friends fucking the shit out of my favourite K-pop idol in the world, and it turned me on more than I had ever imagined.

I could see their shafts moving in and out of her and their balls were slapping against her ass with each of their thrusts, as they started fucking her more rapidly.

"Such a good naughty little slut for us, aren't you, Dani?" Max asked, pushing his cock deeper inside her asshole.

"Fuck, yes... I love taking these big cocks. Fuck me harder and fill me up with your cum."

The boys picked up the pace and Danielle's eyes rolled back, her mouth open and her tongue out, her tits bouncing wildly. The way her moans were mixing in with the sounds of their skin slapping against each other was one of the most erotic things I'd ever heard.

"God, I wish you guys could fuck me all night long." She moaned, as her hands wandered around Jake's chest, her nails leaving trails on his skin.

"Are they fucking you good, Dani?"

"So good, Alex. Their big cocks are stretching me out so much."

"Sounds like you are satisfied, then. No need for me to join in."

"No please. I need your cock in my mouth once again."

"Do you, now?"

"I do. I love the taste of it."

"How can I say no to that?"

"You can't. So hurry up and fuck my face." She replied, biting her lip.

With no intention of keeping her waiting, I put my hand on her throat and started kissing her for a couple of seconds, and unsurprisingly, her right hand went straight towards my hard cock, gripping it firmly and stroking it as we kissed.

When I let go of my chokehold, Danielle wasted no time wrapping her soft lips around my dick. I knew she wanted me to fuck her face, so I was caught off guard when she took my whole length down her throat over and over again, basically impaling herself on my cock.

I could see her saliva drip down her chin, as her eyes were glued on mine, and the fact that she didn't stop deepthroating me, made it clear that she wanted to be treated like a slut, so I put both of my hands on the sides of her head and held her in place, before I started giving her the facefucking that she so desperately craved.

The three of us were working in sync, thrusting in and out of her, and it didn't take long for things to pick up speed. We were all so lost in our own little world that we didn't realize just how fast we were going, and it was only when my cock started hitting the back of her throat and she started gagging and choking, that I realized the extent of our speed.

I could hear Jake and Max moan, and I knew they were close, so I decided to pull out of Danielle's mouth and let her breathe.

"Fuck, you guys are going so hard. You're fucking me so good." She said, panting, her breasts rising up and down as she did so.

"You're taking these cocks so well, Dani." Max groaned, his voice laced with lust as he kept ponding her asshole with reckless abandon.

"Mmmh mmmh...use me like the slut I am."

"I want to be your little cum dumpster."

"I want you guys to fill me up with your thick, hot cum."

Danielle's naughty talk was on point, and seeing how much her body was moving every time the boys slammed into her, made me think that they must've been close to their own orgasms.

"Oh fuck, I'm so close, guys. I'm gonna fill her up." Max moaned.

"Do it. Shoot those loads deep inside me."

Danielle didn't have to wait much longer, before Max and Jake started painting her insides with multiple shots of cum, both groaning loudly, their cocks throbbing inside her as they emptied their balls.

"That's it, Dani...take this cum like a good slut." Max said, shooting the last few ropes inside her asshole.

"Damn, I can't believe I just came inside you..." Jake commented, looking into her eyes as she leaned in and kissed him.

"You did such a good job fucking my tight little pussy and filling it up. Thank you."

With Jake's and Max's loads having been taken care of, Danielle got off of them, their dicks flopping out of her holes, and their cum slowly dripping down her thighs.

"Now, it's your turn, Alex." She said, looking straight at me as she dropped to her knees on the carpet, and beckoned me towards her, her tongue hanging out and her hands cupping her tits.

"I wanna suck your big cock and make you cum all over my face."

I didn't need to be told twice, so I quickly walked towards her and pushed my cock into her mouth, her lips immediately wrapping around my shaft and sucking me off, her tongue flicking over the tip.

I had experienced many amazing sensations throughout my life, but nothing would ever top seeing Danielle with my cock in her mouth. She was desperate to make me cum, and began rapidly slurping on my dick, her spit dribbling down her chin and coating my shaft.

"God...I love sucking cock so much."

"I've been such a naughty girl tonight. Punish me, Alex."

"Fuck my face like you mean it."

Her filthy words and her actions were driving me wild, and I could feel my balls tightening. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and started pounding away, giving her what she wanted. I was fucking her mouth like an animal, her moans mixing in with the sloppy sound of her lips sliding down my shaft, and it wasn't long before I was on the verge of my orgasm.

I kept my cock lodged down her throat for a couple more seconds, before pulling out, stroking myself furiously and shooting thick ropes of cum all over her beautiful face, coating a vast majority of her cheeks and eyes with my seed, with some of it even landing on her forehead and hair.

"Mmmmh, yes, give me every last drop, Alex."

"Keep painting my face with your warm cum."

"Fuckkkk..." I groaned, emptying the last few drops onto her nose and lips.

"God, look at all that cum." Jake commented, looking at the mess I made.

"You look so fucking hot right now, Dani." Max added, looking at her with his mouth wide open.

"I do? Maybe I should take a picture?"

"Maybe you should." I said, jokingly.

However, I should've known that a slut like Danielle would've taken it literally. She quickly grabbed her phone and snatched a pic of her cum covered face.

"Now I have something to look at whilst I rub one out when I'm all alone at night, with no cock to suck on or play with."

As soon as she was done with the picture, Danielle began licking her lips, collecting my cum before swallowing it. Dani then scooped the rest of my cum on her face with her fingers, and licked and sucked them clean, as if she had just finished her favourite dish.

"Look at all that cum you gave me. It tastes so good."

"You are so fucking naughty, Dani."

"You don't even know the half of it." She replied, smiling as she sat down on the carpet, her back against the footboard of the bed.

We all sat down there, alongside Danielle. All of us were exhausted and trying to catch our breaths.

"I don't know about you guys, but I really need a shower. Can I use yours, Dani?"

"Of course. You can all take a shower before you leave, if you want."

"I'm going to the bathroom." Jake said, before stepping away, leaving me and Danielle completely alone, in silence. She rested her on my shoulder, and I rested mine on hers.

"Thank you so much for an incredible night." Danielle said, breaking the silence.

"Please, if anyone needs to thank someone, it's us." I said, just before I noticed a droplet of cum fall from her hair onto her knee.

"Damn, you guys really made a mess out of me, didn't you?"

"We sure did." I replied.

"You know...this doesn't need to be the last time." She said, leaving me a bit puzzled.

"I know you guys will go to the concert tomorrow, but how about you spend some time with me backstage before the concert?"

"Wait, really?"

"Yes. I would love nothing more than to go out there and perform alongside my friends, in front of thousands of people, with your load inside me."

"Don't you want that? Don't you want to see me perform, knowing your load is dripping down my thighs on stage?"

"I do. Fuck, I would love that. You're so naughty." I said, pulling her in for a passionate kiss.

For the next thirty minutes, we just stayed next to each other and waited until Max and Jake had taken their separate showers.

They waited for me, but I told them to go home without me, and they left the hotel room. After a while, I left Danielle behind and went to the shower, however she didn't want to wait until I was done, so she joined me, and we ended up having some more fun.

“Because you’re a friend.” I said, stepping over the curb as we crossed the street. “She likes you more than me.”

“Your sister wants me to be her plus-one? Seems a little weird.”

“My plus-one, actually.” I managed. “She’s forcing me to take somebody and she wants it to be you.”

Danielle smirked. “Why me? Surely if she wants you to take somebody, you can just ask one of your pals to take to a boring wedding.”

“You’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

Her knowing grin could light up the sky. “Absolutely. So, I ask again, why does it have to be me?”

The sigh that escaped my lips was filled with a mixture of defeat and deep embarrassment. “Because she thinks we’re dating.”

“There it is!” Danielle laughed loudly as we approached the roundabout.

“It’s not what you think! They wouldn’t stop bugging me about trying to find a girlfriend. ‘Girlfriend’ this, ‘girlfriend’ that and ‘how come you are twenty and still single?’ Ugh. It’s exhausting.”

“They?”

“Who else do you think? my parents, my sister.”

Danielle crossed her arms over her chest and playfully nudged me with her shoulder. “So, your first instinct was to lie and say that I was your girlfriend?”

“Well, I tried a few times, but it never worked out. Since they wouldn’t shut up about it, I figured the best course of action was to say that we were dating just to get them off my back.”

“Okay then, new question. How long have we been dating, sweetie?”

“I told them last November.”

Danielle’s eyes widened and her mouth was held agape in a smile of mock disbelief. “No way, we’ve been dating for a year and you haven’t told me?”

“We aren’t dating!”

“Hmm. It’s a wonder you haven’t proposed...”

“Danielle! We. Aren’t. Dating.”

“Well, apparently we are, since that must be the reason why your mom invited me to join at every holiday dinner since last year, and why my parents let me.”

“Wait, what?”

“We’re neighbours, you dummy! You think our parents don’t talk with each other? The day you told your mom we were dating, she told my parents, who asked me about it. I just played along.”

“You knew this entire time and said nothing? What was with the entire conversation up to this point?”

She grinned and leaned her head over my shoulder. “Do you have any idea how fun it is? You get all red and you tuck your head like a turtle.”

I pushed her off, but returned her smile. “You such a … “

“Hey now, you are the one who lied. I’m just having some fun with the consequences. So, what about this wedding?”

I sighed. “All you have to do is say that you can’t make it. Just say that you have to go visit a family or something.”

“Why do I have to do it?”

“Because she won’t believe me. If she hears it from you, then she will.”

“Why not just tell her the truth that we aren’t actually a couple?”

“And admit that I lied for almost a year? Pass.”

Danielle stretched her arms above her head and leaned back, which helped to accentuate her figure. One of the consequences to growing up with a female best friend was watching her develop into a beautiful young woman. She was slender but toned thanks to her years of being in cheerleader. Her body was shaped well underneath her light grey hoodie and black skinny jeans, with gentle curves and supple breasts. They were small but seemed to be fairly well shaped.

Did I have a crush on her? I used to.

Did she know that? Absolutely.

Did she seem to care? Not at all.

-

“Why not lie and tell that we broke up?”

“They like you too much. I think that might actually kill them.”

Danielle rolled her eyes. “You know this charade is going to meet an ugly end eventually, right? The longer it goes on, the worse it’s going to be when they peek behind the curtain.”

“I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it. For now, can you just tell her that you can’t make it to the wedding?” I pleaded. Danielle sighed as we turned the corner on the sidewalk and began walking up the driveway to my house.

“Fine. But you owe me. Anything else I need to know?”

“She was thinking about inviting you out for breakfast tomorrow. Again, all you need to do is say you already have plans.”

Danielle frowned. “You know I’ll be cashing in these favours sooner rather than later, right?”

I laxed in relief and unlocked the front door. “I’ll take whatever I can get. Just... please.”

-

My sister called out the moment the door opened. “How was the movie?”

Before I had a chance to open my mouth, Danielle chirped up with a wicked smile. “It was great, Unnie!”

My sister almost sprinted around the corner, and I could only hold my head in shame. “Danielle!” my sister cried gleefully and pulling her into a tight hug, her eyes glared daggers at me.

“Why don’t you go get her a drink?”

“Diet coke please, sweetie.” Danielle grinned.

I had to keep from cursing under my breath as I kicked off my shoes and stepped towards the kitchen. Over my shoulder, I could tell my sister lowered her voice as she quietly spoke to Danielle, but she was still so excited that I could easily hear them both.

“Sweetie? That’s new.”

I swear, I could see the grin on Danielle’s face even around the corner.

“Yeah, we kept it really casual for a while, but we talked and we’re ready to start taking things a bit more seriously. He’s actually taking me out for brunch tomorrow.”

I winced, but removed the requested drink from the fridge. Really? Her choice for alternate plans was a date?

“Oh really? we planned on having breakfast tomorrow. He never said anything about a date.”

“Oh, well if you two have plans, then we can easily reschedule...”

“Nonsense! You two enjoy your date. Has he told you about the wedding?”

I could see Danielle’s feigned curiosity when I stepped back into the room.

“What wedding?”

The death glares my sister gave made me silently vow to slap Danielle.

“I’ve been telling you to ask her for weeks.”

“Noona, I just…” she cut me off by turning back to face Danielle.

“We are going to a relative’s wedding in Jeju the day after tomorrow. I know this is extremely last minute...” Her dagger-like stare made a bead of sweat form on the back of my neck. “...but I was wondering if you wanted to come with us?”

Danielle tilted her head like she was remembering something. That, or dumping the bullshit out of her ears.

“Right, my parents mentioned that you two were gonna be gone for a few days. They never said anything about me coming with you, though.”

“Well, I wanted HIM to be the one to ask you, but obviously he still hasn’t after a month. You’d think that he would care at least a little bit.”

“Noona...” I fumbled for a lie that seemed more appropriate than ‘I didn’t ask her because we’re not dating’. “…I figured she wouldn’t enjoy it. It’s just a wedding, and I don’t want to force her to do something she’ll hate.”

I passed Danielle her drink. Unfortunately, my sister seemed intent on winning this battle. “That is her choice to make, not yours. Ask her.”

A sigh escaped my lips while I looked between the two women. One glaring like she was going to beat me with the business end of a flip-flop, and the other trying her hardest to keep from laughing out loud.

“Would you like to come to Jeju with me for the wedding?” Danielle’s smile dripped with her classic impish charm.

“I would love to.”

-

When the door was carefully closed, I turned back to Danielle who made herself comfortable sitting on the edge of my bed while sipping her drink.

“Dan, what the fuck?”

She chuckled. “What? Did I do something wrong?”

“All you had to do was say you had plans, and then you wouldn’t need to come to this wedding.”

“I don’t have plans, and I want to come.”

“You do?”

Danielle set her can on my nightstand and lied back on the bed, spreading her arms out towards either side like she was trying to make half a snow angel in the wrinkles of my comforter.

“Yeah. I don’t have anything to do, and this genuinely sounds like it will be fun. Three days in Jeju? Count me in.”

“You do realize we’re going to have to pretend the entire trip, right?”

“That’s what’s gonna make it fun.”

“You’re an ass.” I smiled and sat down on the bed, looking down at her.

“Again, I’m just enjoying the consequences of your actions.”

A moment of silence passed. I scratched the side of my face.

“Did you have to use a date as your way out of breakfast tomorrow?”

Danielle propped herself up on her elbows and grinned. “Hey, it gets you out of having to have breakfast with her too.”

“Okay, good point. But brunch? Really?”

“It’s the first thing that came to mind.”

“I thought only old people called it brunch.”

“You can call it whatever you want!”

“Late breakfast.”

“Fine.”

“Early lunch.”

“Sure.”

“Very early dinner.”

Danielle pursed her lips. “Are you done?”

“Midnight snack?”

She sighed. “Okay, this conversation isn’t going anywhere. Tomorrow, I’ll come over at ten, and then we can head out. What do you wanna do? Another movie?”

“Huh? I thought we were going to eat.”

“We don’t have to, dumbass!” Danielle laughed. “I just said that to get both of us out of breakfast. As long as we leave and stay gone for an hour or two, it doesn’t matter what we do. So, what do you want to do tomorrow?”

“I don’t know, what do you want?”

“Hmm, it’s like talking to a brick wall, except a wall is usually more decisive.” She said, rolling her eyes.

“Fuck. You.”

“That’s the plan.” she smirked. “You know, since we’re dating now, and that’s what couples do, but we’re gonna need to be quiet since your sister is right downstairs.”

“Dan...”

“No, actually, I’m supposed to be the one calling your name.”

“Danielle!”

-

As it turned out, late breakfast was exactly what we did. Danielle sat across from me in the booth, slowly picking away at her Bibimbap while I chowed down on my Bulgoki. As usual, we were both dressed in our hoodies and jeans like a pair of mannequins. But, something was different about Danielle. It was subtle.

“Are you wearing makeup?” I asked, and she batted her eyes.

“Just a bit of foundation. Why, see something you like?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear makeup. I’m surprised.”

“Well, if we’re going to a wedding tomorrow, then I need some practice.”

“During early lunch...”

Danielle rolled her eyes. “Well, a girl needs makeup for a date.”

“This isn’t a date.” I sighed.

“Yeah, but your sister thinks so, and that’s what matters.”

“There is no way she saw that you were wearing makeup.”

Danielle took another forkful and chuckled. “She noticed the moment I walked in the door.”

“I doubt that.”

“Hey, don’t get mad because it took you half an hour to see it.”

“Yeah, but you were only in the house for like, fifteen seconds!”

“And during that time, she commented about it and said that I did a good job.”

“When?”

“When you went back upstairs to grab your hoodie.” Danielle said, matter-of-factly.

“You’re pulling my leg.”

“Am not. Here, look at that couple over there.” Danielle pointed her gaze and I followed it to a pair that was sitting at a table towards the middle of the room. Why they weren’t at one of the many open booths near the windows, I didn’t know.

“What do you see about them?” Danielle asked.

“Well, a guy and a girl. They’re having a very early dinner together.”

“You’re never going to call it brunch, are you?”

“Not on your life.”

Danielle sighed. “Fine. The girl. Is she wearing makeup?”

I turned my attention away from guy, and towards his companion. From this distance though, I couldn’t make any confirmations on whether she was wearing makeup. She looked completely natural.

“No.”

Danielle made a quiet noise like a buzzer for an incorrect answer. “It’s subtle, but lipstick at the very least. If I had to guess, I would also say a bit of a touch of foundation.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because I can. Now, about more serious matters,” Danielle turned back to me, but I kept my gaze fixed on the couple. The restaurant was quiet, and I could faintly overhear the boy talking, even though his voice was lowered.

“Hey! You there?”

“Huh?” My attention was torn back to Danielle, who was staring with an amused expression.

“Did you hear anything I asked?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“You— I asked what the plan was for the wedding.”

I faltered. “We’re... pretending to be a couple?”

Danielle rolled her eyes so wide it must have hurt.

“That’s already been established! I’m asking when are we leaving? How are we travelling? What are we doing when we’re at Jeju? What’s the plan for the hotel? What time is the wedding? When are we coming back?”

I winced at the assault of questions. “Okay, okay, I get it.” I took a deep breath.

“As far as I know, we’re driving down to Jeju, and we’re leaving at noon tomorrow. Knowing my sister, we’ll actually end up leaving at eleven, and she would want you to be packed and at our house by nine thirty. When we’re at Jeju, we’re going to check into the hotel and hang out there until dinner, and then we’re going to Cheonjiyeon Waterfalls.”

“Sounds romantic.” Danielle joked. I ignored the red in my cheeks.

“Anyway, then we go back to the hotel and in the morning, we get ready for the reception. It starts at one, everyone is there by noon, she’ll makes us be there for ten, you know the drill. The wedding ends after dinner, we stay at the hotel again, then head home in the morning.”

“Alright, but that still leaves one question.”

“What’s that?”

“The hotel.” Danielle raised her eyebrows like I should know what she was implying.

“What about the hotel?”

Danielle’s eyebrows dropped to an annoyed glare. “How many rooms, dummy? Are the three of us staying in the same room?”

“Uh, no.” I said quickly. It was difficult to meet her eyes. “Two rooms. One for her, and the other for us two.”

“Okay, so we’ll have to be quiet when we have sex if your sister is in the next room.”

I decided not to speak, and buried my face into my bulgoki. It tasted great just a minute ago, but now it tasted like shame. Danielle just smirked and pressed her opening.

“Who knows, maybe while you’re railing me, she’ll be able to hear us on the other side of the wall.”

Danielle had always been... blunt, but this vulgarity was new. Hearing her talk like that made all the blood in my body rush to my face. Well, that, and one other place.

“Dan! What’s wrong with you?”

She holds up her hands defensively, like I was the one crossing the line.

“Hey, if we’re dating, your sister expects us to be having sex.”

“Again, we’re just pretending. And it’s only for three days!”

“What about when we get back? What’s your brilliant scheme then?”

I winced into the few bites left of my bulgoki. “I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”

Danielle polished off the last of her bibimbap and grinned. “Well, you better think quickly. You done eating?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’m gonna go to the washroom, you can pay, and then we’ll head out.”

“Wait, why do I have to pay?” I protested.

“Because I know that your sister slipped you some money. I’ll be right back!”

Danielle left the table, and I took one last bite before signalling the waiter. Meanwhile, I tried to calm down the erection that had formed in my pants. I really didn’t need her to see it when I stood up to leave. Why was she being so care-free now godamit.

Did she like the idea of us being together? No, absolutely not. She expressed a long time ago that she didn’t see me that way, when I had the guts to confess to her in six grade. We barely talked for months afterwards. Now, she was just taking the opportunity of my stupid lie to torment me. There wasn’t any point in getting hung up on something that was never going to happen.

-

It was a few minutes before Danielle returned, and I gave her an exhausted smile. Her cheeks were red when she looked at me, and she almost looked shy when she sat down. I raised an eyebrow.

“What, did you fall in or something?”

Danielle shook her head. “No. You didn’t check your phone?”

“I left it at home. Oh god, what kind of horrible memes did you send me this time?”

Danielle paused. “Uh, you’ll see.”

“Great. I can’t wait to get home and question your sanity. Let’s go.”

-

Aside from Danielle stopping to play with a small terrier being walked by an older man, our stroll back was uneventful. Danielle returned to her house as I stepped into mine. I wasn’t surprised when I immediately heard my sister walk out of the living room.

“How was your date?” She called.

“Good.”

“Did you tell her about…”

She rounded the corner, and I cut her off. “Yes, I told her about the plans, what time we’re leaving, and everything else. Don’t worry.”

She didn’t look satisfied yet. “Did you pay with the money I gave you?”

“Noona, I would have paid even if you didn’t give me money.”

“Well, I’m sorry for worrying. Danielle’s a good one.”

“You don’t need to worry about it. Everything’s under control.”

The slight wrinkles in her face deepened.

“Do you really love Danielle?”

Sucker punch to the gut.

“Uh... what?”

“I’m just asking, because it seems like things aren’t going very well. You two obviously brought your relationship to the next level, but it doesn’t seem like you’re happy. Danielle is, but you aren’t.”

“Why do you ask?” I said cautiously.

She frowned. “You two have been dating for over a year, but I’ve never even seen you hug each other, much less anything else. I understand keeping things casual, but intentionally not inviting her to the wedding? Why do you not want her to come?”

I stammered. “Because... I don’t think she would enjoy it. There won’t be anyone she knows there, and...” My voice faltered. She sighs.

“If things are going badly between you two, all you have to do is tell me. I can help, you know.”

“Everything’s fine, Noona. I promise.”

She just got a sad look in her eyes and turned away. “I really wish you wouldn’t lie to me. I don’t want you to lose the best woman you’re ever going to find.”

“Well, I’m gonna go upstairs.”

“You left your phone in the kitchen.” She offered flatly. “Danielle sent some... interesting pictures.”

I winced.

“They’re called memes. Don’t worry, Danielle doesn’t actually mean those things.”

“Uh-huh.” Was her only reply while I grabbed my phone. I didn’t look at the screen until I was halfway up the stairs. At that point, my jaw dropped and I almost tripped. I could only manage to stumble up the rest of the steps and shut myself in my room before looking closer at the four pictures.

Only one was the horrible meme I expected. Instead, my gaze was affixed on the other three pictures.

They were photos, obviously taken in a public washroom.

Photos of Danielle.

The first was a classic selfie using the washroom mirror, but Danielle wasn’t wearing her hoodie. Her hand not holding the phone had her shirt pulled up to her chin, revealing her lack of a bra.

Fuck.

From her slender, smooth stomach all the way up to her navel, her skin was the same flawless shade of pale ivory as it wrapped around and under her supple breasts. They were perhaps a single handful each, with delicate skin and perfect, small, perky nipples in the center of each mass.

Danielle’s cheeks were red, but her smile couldn’t have been brighter.

The second photo was similar to the first, in the sense that the photo was looking into the reflection of the mirror. This time, Danielle’s shirt was removed altogether, but she was facing away so I could only see her soft back and a hint of sideboob. She grinned over her shoulder, and her other hand had her jeans and panties pulled down below the cheeks of her rear end, showing her small yet pert, bare and flawless ass. It was clear even in the soft shading of her bottom.

I knew I should have looked away—it was wrong for me to be looking at these pictures, much less staring at them. Surely, she sent them to the wrong person. Either that, or she had sent the wrong photos altogether. Either way, my lower appendage was as hard as granite and made my jeans very uncomfortable, very quickly.

The last picture made my throat catch. She was sitting on the floor of the washroom, using her hoodie like a towel underneath her. Her hand held the phone in between her legs, looking back up at her. The only thing she wore was a smile.

Her legs were spread, her other hand was placed on the smooth, hairless patch of skin in between her thighs. Because of that, the view of her lower lips was very obscured, but no less erotic. Only her thumb, forefinger and pinky were visible. I could take a wild guess as to where the other two fingers were.

I don’t know how long I stared at the pictures of my best friend, completely slack-jawed. I mean, sure, I’ve thought about what Danielle looked like naked. Every straight guy with a female friend has done the same. Still, I never expected to get proven so wrong. Every part of her was somehow better than the mental image my mind had conjured. It was different, yes, but definitely better.

Her breasts looked slightly different than I imagined, but they fit much better proportionally. Her ass was pert, years of cheerleader made it toned and smooth like two perfect globes.

Her pussy was clean shaven instead of having a small patch as I expected. However, the lack of hair simply let all of the attention be directed towards the beautiful flower being spread open by a pair of delving fingers.

Somehow, I fumbled around enough to sit down on the edge of my bed and start a video call. After undoing the button on my jeans and letting the bulge in my boxers have a bit more room to breathe, of course.

Danielle answered before the first ring finished. Her hoodie was discarded, leaving her in just her t-shirt. In my mind’s eye, I could still see it bunched up underneath her chin and showing her shapely breasts. Danielle still had the same smile from the photos.

“Calling so soon after the date? A girl would think you’re needy. I take it you liked my meme?”

“I uh... I think you might have sent me the wrong pictures.”

“Oh no.” Danielle frowned. “What pictures did I send?”

“Uh, there was um... they were photos of you.”

“Of me?” Danielle raised an amused eyebrow.

“Yeah.” I confirmed. “With... without clothes.”

Danielle grinned. “Why are you so awkward?”

“Huh?”

“I meant to send those. That’s what I was doing in the washroom before we left.”

I floundered. “So, you mean that…”

“While you were paying, I was taking... an artistic photo of mine, and sending them to you. It’s a shame you left your phone at home. I would have loved to see you get so embarrassed in public.”

“Why?”

Danielle giggled and laid back. I could tell that like me, she had been sitting on the edge of her bed, but had now lied down and was holding her phone in the air above her face. Her hair fanned out around her head like a halo.

“Because couples send each other nudes, dummy! If we’re gonna pretend to be a couple, it would be a lot more convincing if you have a few pictures of me on your phone. I can send some more, if you want…”

“No!” I said quickly. Danielle’s grin faded, and I took a breath.

“Dan, my sister saw those pictures.”

Her smile returned, but it seemed like it was only halfway there. “Good.”

“How is that good?!”

“Because,” said Danielle, “…that should help to convince her that we’re dating. Otherwise, why would I be sending you nudes? Speaking of which, how did she even see them? Don’t you have a lock on your phone?”

“No.”

“Why not? Aren’t you worried about random people going through your stuff?”

“How would they do that? I keep my phone on me all the time.”

Danielle just stared, unimpressed. “You have your phone at all times, huh?”

“Okay…” I relented. “I left it at home a few times, but my sister is the only person who’ll see it, and she’s not much for snooping.”

“And it’s because she doesn’t snoop that she saw a picture of me fingering myself?”

I swallowed my tongue along with the rest of my argument. Danielle had a point. She must have seen her victory, since her eyes twinkled.

“If you want to make my tits your home screen, I’ll just ask that you put a password first. I think one look at my goodies is enough for your sister.”

In the small image of myself in the lower corner of the screen, I could see the red on my cheeks. After a moment of silence, Danielle chuckled.

“What did she think?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did she make any comments about the pictures or anything?”

I shook my head. “Uh, no. She just said that you sent some interesting pictures, and that was it.”

The gap between Danielle’s eyebrows narrowed. “I know your sister, and that seems strangely vague for her.”

“I think...” The words struggled to form proper sentences. “…I think it’s because she doesn’t entirely believe us.”

“She doesn’t think we’re dating?”

“No, I think it’s more along the lines of her believing that we’re dating a little too much.”

Danielle looked confused. “Okay, you’re gonna have to walk me through this one because you aren’t making sense.”

I let out a sigh. “Think of it from her point of view. We’ve been ‘dating’ for a year, but absolutely nothing has changed. We still act the same way we always have—as best friends and neighbours. Now, I was so reluctant to invite you to the wedding.”

Danielle waited after I finished my sentence. Several seconds passed before she lifted her hand and made a keep going movement. “Come on, you gotta give me a little more here. Instead of beating around the bush, just say what’s the problem.”

“From what I understand, she fully believes that we’re dating, but also thinks that we’re having some problems and are on the verge of breaking up.”

Danielle frowned. “I literally sent you a picture of my—and she thinks we’re gonna split? What kind of logic is that?”

I struggled to find the best way to put my thoughts into words. No matter what way I said it, it sounded odd.

“Actually, I think she believes that you’re in the relationship, but not me.”

“And how does that work?”

“I actively avoided inviting you to anything. Now you’re sending me nudes. I think she believes that I’m going to break up with you.”

“Oh.” Danielle looked genuinely speechless. I could usually tell what she was thinking at any given moment. Right now, she was an enigma. She risked a half-grin.

“It sounds like you should pick up the slack, make her believe.”

“And how am I supposed to do that? We’re not actually dating. I can’t just start making out with you in front of her.”

“Why not? I sent you nudes. Take the leap.”

“Wait, what?”

Danielle just gave a weak smile, her cheeks flushing with a tinge of pink. “I’ve gotta start packing. See you tomorrow.”

The last thing I saw before the call ended was Danielle giving a kiss towards the camera. I was stuck there, dumbfounded, and trying to wrap my head around what was happening.

-

Danielle was taking this ‘pretend couple’ thing way too far. The worst part was, I couldn’t even bring myself to be mad about it. She had made it clear a long time ago that she wasn’t interested—basically just told me to grow a pair and step up the act on our fake relationship.

Take the leap?

I shook my head, trying to force the thoughts away like they were insects that had crawled in my ears. No. I buried those fantasies years ago. I won’t let them dig their way out just because of an act. I fell in love with her a long time ago. If that happened again...

I wasn’t sure if there was any way to recover from that.

I opened our text messages again and tried not to stare at the nude selfies as I deleted them. Sadly, I couldn’t make them vanish from my mind as easily as they vanished from the screen.

As much as I tried to ignore it, Danielle was the only person on my mind.

-

We were planning to leave at noon. My sister decided to wake me up at six. I couldn’t really complain. I had my alarm set for six-thirty. Damn that woman and the curse of punctuality she bestowed upon me.

Sleeping was peaceful. I rarely had dreams, so it was just a time where nothing could bother me. No worries. No memories. No apprehensions. No fears. No regrets. Not even Danielle could break the veil. She had plagued my thoughts for over a dozen hours after the video chat. It was only when I finally managed to drift away from consciousness that my mind went quiet. It was wonderful.

Unfortunately, I had to wake up.

From my extra-hot shower, to brushing my teeth, to double-checking that I had everything packed, Danielle resided rent-free in the forefront of my mind. Most of the images in my head weren’t even the precious memories of her nude selfies. They were there, absolutely, but the images of her naked form were drowned among the flash of her smile, the sound of her laugh, and the twinkle in her eyes.

This weekend was going to be a nightmare.

It only got worse when Danielle showed up a quarter after nine. I answered the door, and was surprised by Danielle jumping forward and embracing me in a tight hug. Even through her hoodie, I could feel the curves of her body pressing against mine. Her hair was loose and draping down to her shoulders like a shimmering curtain. It smelled like strawberries. Her face was cradled on my chest, and I heard her whisper in my ear.

“Hug me back, idiot.”

I hesitantly reciprocated, wrapping my arms around her lower back. I tried to ignore how wonderful it was. Danielle felt so good in my embrace. It seemed so natural to hold her like this, and I became painfully aware of the reality. We had been best friends for our entire lives, but I could probably count on one hand the number of times that we actually made physical contact with each other for anything other than a high-five or a friendly punch. When was the last time we hugged?

I couldn’t even begin to say. Maybe we never did.

We stayed like that for several seconds too long, breathing against each other in silence. Eventually, Danielle moved her head a tiny bit to look down the hall.

“Hey Noona!”

“Hello Danielle. Have you had breakfast?”

Danielle pulled away from the hug, slipped off her shoes, and casually began walking down the hall like nothing happened. “Not yet. I hope it’s okay if I raid your cupboards for some cereal.”

“You will not have cereal when I’m almost done making a true breakfast.”

“Oh, you spoil me too much.”

“Nonsense. You deserve only the best.?”

I snapped back to reality, still feeling the warmth of Danielle in my arms, and looked back to see a small, carry-on suitcase resting in the open doorframe. I pulled it inside and shut the door before following them to the kitchen.

My sister had returned to her self-appointed post, twisting and turning across the tile floor as she managed half a dozen things at once—she looked like a contestant in some extreme cooking show. I just kept my distance on the other side of the counter. It may have looked like she was drowning in her process, but in her own words, everyone else just got in her way.

“Need a hand?” Danielle asked with a smile.

“Nope, you are not to lift a finger.”

“Oh please, I can help.”

She turned around with an exasperated look. “Danielle, I will not let you do any work as a beloved guest in our house.”

“Come on.” Danielle grinned. “I want to help. We can take care of the eggs, at the very least. That way, you can make sure the other things don’t burn.”

“Fine. But don’t you dare try to help with the dishes!”

“Understood.” Danielle laughed.

What the fuck? Every time I ever tried to help with anything, she would practically tear my throat out, push me away, and then complain that I never did anything around the house. Yet somehow, with just a few simple words, Danielle managed to convince her to relinquish her iron chains.

I needed to take notes.

Danielle certainly got comfortable despite doing something as innocuous. She stood as close as she possibly could. Her body was pressed up into my side, which sent a frustratingly confusing shudder through my core. She was taking adorable little glances up into my eyes, and giggling every time I awkwardly looked away.

Take the leap.

Danielle’s words echoed through my mind. I instinctively knew that she wouldn’t mind if I did take a step up, since she was so... blunt, previously. I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood. I wasn’t quite sure, but I swore that I could see Danielle’s eyes sparkle when I wrapped an arm around her waist.

What was I doing? Feeling her pressed up against my side was doing terrible things to my heart. I wanted nothing more than to stay like that forever. Danielle felt so wonderful and soft. Not to mention, knowing that it was her I was pulling close—that was the forbidden cherry on top.

Despite the strain growing in my chest, I kept my hand curled around the side of her slender stomach. I even managed an awkward smile when Danielle swiped a butter-covered thumb on the tip of my nose.

I wanted to do it. I wanted it so badly that I could barely breathe. Her lips looked so inviting—like soft little pillows framing a smile that couldn’t have been more perfect. Resisting the urge to lean in for that wicked kiss made it feel like something in my chest was under tension so high it would snap.

How did I let this happen? Just yesterday I promised myself that I wouldn’t let her hurt me again. I wouldn’t let Danielle burrow her way into my chest and carve another hole that took years to heal.

Yet, at what was literally the very first opportunity for failure. So much for my willpower to resist the charm of a succubus. I knew this would only end in flames. The moment this act ended; I would be left with a vicious wound in the shape of her.

Despite that, I couldn’t bring myself to care about the consequences yet. That was something I would just have to deal with later. The glint in Danielle’s beautiful brown eyes was far too intoxicating.

I didn’t let go of her until the three of us were sitting down to eat. Even then, Danielle shifted her chair adjacent to mine. We sat so close we were practically wearing each other’s pants. Every time I caught a peek at my sister, she just gave a curious smile.

It only got more complicated from then on. Thankfully, she went upstairs to do her classic quadruple-check over every single thing she packed into her suitcase. Unfortunately, that left Danielle and I alone on the couch while we waited for our departure time. I desperately hoped that Danielle wouldn’t fixate on this weekend. Thankfully she seemed to stay her normal self, even if she was cuddled up into my side. It was such a casual display of affection that it almost made my heart flutter more than our hug when she entered the house. Unlike the hug, this lasted so much longer. There was nothing stopping Danielle from nesting into me as we scrolled through Netflix for anything that piqued our interest. As I expected, we ended up in the horror section.

“Exhuma?” I asked.

“Nah. We’re only gonna be able to get through like half a movie before we have to go. I just want something I won’t really get invested in.”

“The Conjuring?”

“That movie literally only gets interesting right when we would have to leave.”

“Fine. What would you like to watch?”

Danielle rolled her eyes. “I don’t know! I already downloaded all three seasons of Sweet Home onto my laptop so we could watch it in the car and hotel. Got a headphone splitter and everything.”

“We aren’t in the car or hotel yet, so you need to pick something.”

“Why do I need to pick? You have the remote.”

“Yeah, and you’ve already vetoed both of my suggestions. You’re the only one being stingy here, so you choose what you want to watch.”

“Oh jeez.” Danielle twisted her head up to glare at me. “If you don’t pick a movie, I’m just gonna start making out with you in order to keep myself entertained.”

“I—uh, what?”

“What? You don’t think that making out would be interesting? It looks like a lot of fun.” She grinned. “Plus, it would be a good way to convince your sister. She comes downstairs and I’m sitting on your lap while we’re using each other’s throats like straws.”

I could only tuck my chin with a blush, prompting a loud laugh from Danielle.

“Relax, I won’t. Unless you ask nicely, of course.”

“What’s so funny?” I heard my sister voice call out from around the corner of the living room, along with her approaching footsteps. Faster than I could react, Danielle grabbed both of my hands and pushed them into her sides just below her ribcage. She started twitching and giggling against me.

“Stop, stop! Please!”

It took far too long for me to realise that Danielle just provided both of us with a perfect cover. Still, I plastered my own mischievous smile and started scratching and tickling away. Her fake spasms and noises quickly became real just before my sister stepped into view. I pretended not to notice her presence and held tightly onto the squirming girl while assaulting her sides with quick and playful fingers. My sister remained quiet for several moments and watched on. I took the opportunity to really dig in and double down on my efforts. What were once gentle pushes to try and get me to stop my tickling quickly became genuine actions of desperation. Danielle’s years of cheerleader made it difficult to get any good grip on her. Still, her breathing became ragged and strained as her face turned bright red. Tears were even streaming down her face.

“You two having fun?” my sister finally spoke, and I lifted my head to meet her gaze. Beneath me, I could see Danielle do the same. I never stopped tickling, and she never stopped fighting.

“Ahh Help!”

“Hey, let her go.”

I ceased my assault and lifted my hands in surrender. Danielle used the opportunity to scramble away on the couch. She drew several heaving breaths before leaning forward and punching me in the shoulder.

“Ow! What’s that for?”

“Dummy! You know I’m ticklish.”

I didn’t, actually.

“You two better not be acting up in the car. Traffic on the highway is already going to be bad enough, I don’t need more distractions.”

Danielle gave a smile that could make a corpse blush. “Don’t worry noona. Unlike him, I can keep my hands to myself.”

“Uh huh.” Was her response.

“Are we leaving soon, or...” I had to break the silence.

“Relax, it’s only ten. We still have another hour before we need to leave. Do you mind if I sit here with you while we find something to watch?”

“Not at all. Sit down and relax all you like.”

Danielle giggled sweetly. “Now—you tickle me one more time and you don’t get any more cuddles.”

Before I could respond, she crawled back into her original position. If anything, she nuzzled up into my side even more than before. Most of her weight was on me, and her head was resting in the crook of my neck. Her hair was so soft. The smell of strawberries was almost overpowering. She grabbed my arm and curled it around her so that my hand was resting on her stomach. Her shirt had even ridden up slightly, allowing my pinky to sit upon the bare skin just below her belly button.

“You’ve decided what we’re gonna watch, right sweetie?”

I swear I’m gonna shoot her. After I shot myself, of course.

“Uh, yeah. Exhuma.”

My sister sighed. “Just know that we’re going to be leaving in an hour.”

“That’s okay.” Danielle smiled. “I prefer the first half anyway. That part’s more interesting.”

-

Thankfully, the car ride was a lot less traumatic. I was worried that spending a few hours in an enclosed space with both Danielle and my sister would be the end of the world. It seemed as though Danielle decided to throw me a bone and play nice for the first time in her life.

I simply focused on trying to enjoy the show. It was significantly harder than it had any right to be, because of the way she held my hand over the dividing cupholder in between us. For the entire ride. As in, the entire ride. From the instant that our doors closed to the moment we parked outside the hotel, she did not let go of my hand once. If she switched the laptop to the next episode, took a sip of her drink or grabbed a snack, she always used her right hand since her left was firmly grasping mine. I could only imagine how gross it must have felt for her.

When we finally parked, both Danielle and I used our free hands to take off the headphones. She smiled at me and her eyes glittered like pools of melted chocolate. Granted, I had never looked particularly closely at her eyes—that was probably to avoid the fluttering butterflies trapped in my stomach.

Even more so than when the two of us were buttering toast, the simple act of us holding hands and looking at each other made every single other sensation in the world fade away. Every neuron in my brain was firing warning signals, screaming at me to let go and turn away. To admit to that I was lying about the relationship. However, this ended would be way worse than if I just cut my losses and ran.

I leaned in and kissed her.

There was no word that could describe it. Perfect was too tacky. Amazing wasn’t quite right. Wonderful just didn’t do it the justice it deserved. What surprised me was just how simple it was. I never expected that kissing someone would be so... plain. There wasn’t any feeling about it that was special. It was just like kissing the back of my hand, if a little bit softer. What made the act so unbelievable was simply the knowledge of who I was doing it with. Knowing that it was Danielle pressed up against my lips in what was arguably the most intimate of acts. My very first experience of the sort, and it was with none other than the best friend I had been in love with for longer than I could remember. The one person on the planet that I couldn’t have under any circumstance. The one person who made it clear way back then that she wasn’t interested. Sure, she was very obvious that she was willing to take this act as far as she needed to, but as for what happened next? There was no telling what kind of aftermath would be present when the dust settled.

The forbidden fruit never tasted so sweet.

“Ahem.”

My sister cleared her throat from the front seat. I abruptly pulled away and opened my eyes. I watched Danielle do the same. Her irises flashed with something I had never seen before. For the first time in my life, I saw Danielle genuinely taken aback. She was uncertain. Just as quickly as it appeared, that shaken expression was wiped clean by her typical grin. Danielle leaned forward and returned her lips to mine. It was only for a moment, but that second kiss felt entirely different. With the first, I could tell that I had broken through whatever mask Danielle was wearing as part of this act. No doubt I had screwed all of this up. At least it was obvious that Danielle was going to hold out for the duration of the wedding. Unfortunately, I had no faith that things were going to be the same after this was all said and done.

Danielle flashed a pearly smile and let go of my hand. “Come on, let’s go.”

“I’ll grab the bags.” I coughed. “How about you two get us checked in and we’ll meet by the elevator?”

With that, Danielle and my sister walked off. Danielle had her backpack and my sister her purse. Everything else was stuffed into the four suitcases in the trunk.

Five minutes later, I was awkwardly trying to shuffle the suitcases through the thin doorway while Danielle laughed and held the door open for me. Eventually squeezing our way inside the respective rooms. It was a very nice but simple room. Grey walls, two beds, a large TV and an attached bathroom. I hefted both of our bags onto one of the beds right before my sister appeared in the doorway.

“Alright, you two. We’ve got a dinner reservation at six, but we don’t need to leave for another two and a half hours. I assume that you two just want to hang out at the hotel until then?”

“Yeah.” Danielle answered for both of us. “We had to pause the episode halfway through. We were probably just gonna chill and keep watching.”

“Alright, I’m going to take a bit of a walk and see where everything is. I’ll be back before we need to leave for dinner.”

“Have fun.” I chirped.

“If you need anything, just call.”

“I will, Go enjoy your walk.” I said then shut the door.

“Dan, listen—about earlier.”

“What about it?”

“I shouldn’t have done that.” I shook my head.

“Why not? It’s all part of the act, right?”

“No— Yes, I mean...” I slumped down onto the bed and held my head in my hands. Danielle slowly walked forward and sat beside me. Her presence only made the feelings more complicated but I had to fight through it.