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author's note : this is my first non kep1er story, hello. this was a request literally a month ago. im editing this on my phone so it might be badly edited here on tumblr, im so sorry. enjoy reading though! i have three more stories to post
Inside Y/N’s bedroom, the only light came from a single bedside lamp, casting long, wavering shadows across the walls. Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress sighing under his weight. His hands, usually so steady when navigating the complex lines of code he worked with, now trembled slightly as he fumbled with a small, foil-wrapped square.
Eunchae, curled up beside him, watched with wide, curious eyes. Her usually boisterous energy had dimmed to a soft hum, a nervous flutter just beneath her skin. A stray strand of hair fell across her cheek; she tucked it behind her ear, her movements slow, deliberate. The air thrummed with unspoken things, with a sweetness that bordered on apprehension.
“Is it… difficult?” she asked, her voice a whisper, barely cutting through the distant city murmur.
He glanced at the condom, then back at her, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “Apparently, there’s an instruction manual for everything but this.” He peeled back the foil, revealing the tightly coiled rubber. It looked so simple, yet his fingers felt clumsy, oversized. He tried to unroll it, but it resisted, clinging to itself. A soft sigh escaped him.
Eunchae giggled, a sound like wind chimes. She reached over, her slender fingers brushing against his as she took the prophylactic from him. “Let me see.” She held it up, examining the rolled rim. “It goes… this way?” She made a small, circular motion with her thumb and forefinger.
He nodded, a blush creeping up his neck. “I think so.” He offered a small, self-deprecating chuckle. “My sex ed class was mostly about diagrams and fear mongering.”
She leaned in, her breath warm against his ear. “Mine too. They made it sound like… a medical procedure.” Her eyes, dark and shining, met his. “But it’s not, is it?”
“I hope not,” he managed, his voice a little hoarse. He cleared his throat. “I hope it’s… better.”
A comfortable silence settled between them, punctuated by the soft whir of the air purifier. Eunchae’s gaze drifted to his chest, then lower, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink. Her shyness, usually hidden beneath layers of playful banter, now surfaced, raw and endearing. He felt a similar warmth spread through him, a mix of vulnerability and burgeoning excitement.
He reached for her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers. Her skin felt soft, smooth against his calloused palm. “You’re beautiful, you know.” The words came out easily, heartfelt.
She squeezed his hand, her gaze lifting to meet his. A shy smile touched her lips. “You’re not so bad yourself, Y/N.” Her eyes twinkled. “For an awkward guy.”
He laughed, a genuine, unburdening sound. “Awkward is my brand.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder, her hair tickling his chin. The scent of her shampoo, a faint floral aroma, filled his senses. “I like your brand.” Her fingers traced patterns on the back of his hand. “Are you… nervous?”
“Terrified,” he admitted, his voice low. “And excited. All at once.”
She lifted her head, her expression softening. “Me too.” Her hand moved from his, reaching for the hem of his t-shirt. Her touch was feather-light as she slowly pulled the fabric up, revealing a sliver of his skin. He shivered, a pleasant tremor.
He mirrored her action, his fingers finding the soft cotton of her oversized sweatshirt. He pulled it gently, revealing the curve of her shoulder, then the delicate line of her collarbone. Her skin, bathed in the lamp’s soft glow, seemed to radiate warmth. He watched her breath hitch as the fabric rose higher, exposing the thin strap of her bra.
“Can I…?” he asked, his voice barely audible.
She nodded, her eyes wide, trusting.
He peeled the sweatshirt over her head, then her bra, his movements slow, reverent. Her breasts, full and round, rose and fell with each shallow breath. Her nipples, small and perfectly pink, firmed almost imperceptibly. He felt a surge of tenderness, a desire to cherish this moment, to make her feel nothing but safety and pleasure.
He leaned in, his lips finding the soft skin of her shoulder, then the hollow of her throat. He tasted the faint salt of her skin, the subtle sweetness of her, and felt a profound connection. She arched into his touch, a soft murmur escaping her lips. His hand, still trembling slightly, found her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple. A small gasp left her, her body tensing, then relaxing against him.
“Feels… nice,” she breathed, her eyes closed, a small smile playing on her lips.
He explored her with his fingertips, tracing the curve of her ribs, the soft expanse of her stomach. She shivered, her body responding to his touch with an innocent eagerness. He pulled away slightly, his gaze lingering on her face, on the flush that now colored her entire chest.
“Your turn,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering open.
He smiled, a genuine, unforced smile. He pulled off his t-shirt, then his pants, leaving him in just his boxers. Her eyes, which had been shyly averted, now met his, a spark of curiosity replacing the shyness. He felt a warmth spread from his chest, a sense of being truly seen, truly desired, not just for his mind or his humor, but for his body too.
He reached for her jeans, his fingers fumbling with the button. She laughed softly, a bright, clear sound. “Let me.” She unzipped them herself, then pushed them down her legs, her movements fluid and graceful. Her underwear, a delicate lace, was next, revealing the soft curve of her hips, the dark triangle between her thighs.
He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He had seen pictures, of course, but this was different. This was real. This was Eunchae.
He leaned in, his lips finding hers. The kiss was soft, tentative at first, then deepened as she responded, her lips parting under his. Her tongue, shyly at first, then more confidently, met his, a dance of exploration. He tasted her, a sweet, fresh taste that made his head spin. His hand found the small of her back, pulling her closer, until their bare chests pressed together, skin against skin. The warmth of her body seeped into his, a comforting, intoxicating heat.
He pulled away, just slightly, to catch his breath. Her eyes were glazed, her lips swollen and red. “Wow,” she breathed, a little breathless.
He smiled, a feeling of pure joy bubbling up inside him. “Wow, indeed.” He kissed her again, a softer, lingering kiss. His hand drifted lower, over her stomach, then to the soft curls at the apex of her thighs. He felt the dampness there, a testament to her growing excitement.
“You’re… wet,” he whispered, his voice thick with wonder.
She nodded, a soft moan escaping her. “I think so.” She shifted, pressing herself against his hand.
He knelt between her legs, his gaze locked on hers. He wanted to make her feel good, to understand what she liked, what made her sigh and arch. He lowered his head, his tongue tracing the delicate folds of her vulva. Her breath hitched, her fingers digging into his hair. He tasted her, a musky, sweet flavor, and felt a primal urge to bury himself in her.
She whimpered, her hips beginning to undulate slightly. He continued his ministrations, his tongue flicking, swirling, then sucking gently on her clit. Her legs parted wider, her body arching off the bed. A soft cry escaped her lips.
“Oh, Y/N…” she gasped, her voice thick with pleasure.
He felt her body tense, then convulse, a series of small, delicious spasms. She cried out, a pure, uninhibited sound, her fingers clenching in his hair. He continued until her body relaxed, a soft, contented sigh escaping her.
He lifted his head, a triumphant grin on his face. She looked at him, her eyes shining, a soft flush still coloring her cheeks. “That was… amazing.”
He beamed, his heart swelling. “I’m glad.” He moved up, lying beside her, pulling her close. His hand found the condom again, still on the bedside table. He picked it up, his earlier awkwardness returning.
“The condom,” she said, her voice a little breathless. “Do you… want me to help?”
He nodded, a grateful smile on his face. “Please.” He held his flaccid penis out, and she, with a surprising confidence, took the condom, pinching the tip, and slowly unrolled it down his shaft. It felt strange, a cool, constricting sensation, but also a sense of readiness.
He moved above her, supporting his weight on his forearms, his eyes never leaving hers. He felt the tip of his penis against her, warm and wet. He pushed gently, but it felt… tight.
She winced slightly, a small, involuntary sound. “It’s a bit… much.”
He paused, his heart sinking slightly. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, not really,” she said, her voice soft. “Just… a bit much, all at once.” She reached down, her fingers finding his shaft, guiding him. “Slowly.”
He nodded, taking a deep breath. He pushed again, a little slower this time, a little more deliberately. He felt the resistance, then a yielding, a soft give as he slid inside her. He was in, fully, completely. A strange mix of relief and profound connection washed over him.
He lay still for a moment, just feeling her around him, the warmth, the soft embrace of her body. It wasn't the explosive sensation he'd read about in books or seen in movies. It was soft, intimate, a gentle pressure that filled him.
“Okay?” he whispered, his voice a little strained.
She nodded, her eyes closed, a small smile on her face. “Okay.” She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.
He began to move, slowly at first, then with more confidence. Each thrust was a learning curve, a careful exploration. He felt the friction, the warmth, the subtle shift of her body beneath his. It wasn't mind-blowing, not yet. It was awkward, a little clumsy, but infused with a tenderness that made it profoundly beautiful.
He tried to find a rhythm, a pace that felt right for both of them. He felt a slight discomfort, a dull ache that wasn't pain, but just… new. He glanced down, seeing their bodies joined, a raw, vulnerable sight.
“Does it… feel good?” she asked, her voice breathy.
He paused, a little unsure. “It’s… warm. And… nice.” He tried to be honest, to not overstate anything. “Is it for you?”
She nodded, her eyes closed again. “It’s… new. And I like that it’s you.” She shifted her hips, a small, involuntary movement. He felt a slight increase in pressure, a deepening of the sensation.
He continued to move, trying to match her subtle cues. The condom felt a little thick, dulling some of the sensation, but the intimacy, the sheer closeness of their bodies, was overwhelming. He felt himself building, a slow, steady climb. He focused on her, on her soft gasps, on the way her fingers clutched his shoulders.
He felt a sudden shift, a tightening around him. He looked down, and saw the condom had slipped, pulling back slightly. He froze, a wave of panic washing over him.
“Oh,” he said, his voice a little high-pitched. “It… it slipped.”
Eunchae opened her eyes, a flicker of confusion. She looked down, then back at him. “Did it come off?”
He shook his head, pulling out slowly, carefully. The condom was still on, but it had retracted, leaving a small amount of pre-cum on his shaft. He felt a flush of embarrassment. “No, but… it almost did.”
He pulled the condom off, the rubber making a soft, squelching sound as it came free. He felt his erection lessen slightly, the moment broken. He sighed, a mix of frustration and awkwardness.
Eunchae giggled, a soft, innocent sound. She reached for him, her hand warm on his arm. “It’s okay. We’re learning.” She pulled him back down, her lips finding his. “We have all the time in the world to learn.”
He kissed her back, a profound sense of love overriding the awkwardness. This wasn't about perfection. It was about connection, about two people figuring things out together. He felt his erection returning, a little softer, but still present.
He lay beside her, pulling her close, his arms wrapping around her. “I love you, Eunchae.”
She snuggled into his embrace, her head resting on his chest. “I love you too, Y/N.” Her voice was soft, contented. “Even if you’re a bit clumsy.”
He chuckled, a warm feeling spreading through him. “I’m a work in progress.”
She smiled, her eyes twinkling. “Good. Because I plan on sticking around for the whole project.”
Years later, the sky still glowed, but now, the lights in their house were strategically dimmed, creating an intimate cocoon. Y/N watched Eunchae from across the room, a familiar warmth spreading through him. Her laugh, still a bright, clear sound, filled the space as she recounted a funny story from her day. She still possessed that youthful energy, but now it was tempered with a quiet confidence, a knowing grace that came with age and experience.
He had learned her, inch by inch, over the years. He knew the exact curve of her spine, the way her breath hitched just before a laugh, the subtle tension in her shoulders when she was tired. And she, in turn, knew him. She knew the way his jaw tightened when he was deep in thought, the exact spot behind his ear that made him shiver, the slight tremor in his hand when he was truly excited.
She finished her story, her eyes, still wide and expressive, finding his. A playful challenge danced within them. “What are you staring at, Mr. Awkward?”
He pushed off the sofa, a slow, deliberate movement. “Just admiring my wife.” He walked towards her, his gaze never leaving hers. Her eyes, those beautiful doe eyes, held his, anchoring him, drawing him in. He wouldn’t look away, not for anything. It was an unspoken pact, a silent language they had perfected over a decade.
He reached her, his hands finding her waist, pulling her gently against him. Her body, familiar and beloved, fit against his as if designed for it. He lowered his head, his lips finding the soft skin just beneath her ear, a place he knew would send shivers down her spine. A soft sigh escaped her, her body relaxing into his.
“You know what that does to me,” she whispered, her voice husky.
He smiled against her skin. “I know.” His lips trailed down her neck, then to the hollow of her throat. He felt the pulse quicken beneath his touch. His hand drifted lower, over the familiar curve of her hip, then to the delicate inner thigh. He kissed the spot, a light, teasing brush of his lips, and felt her entire body shake, a delicious tremor that resonated through him.
“Y/N,” she gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders. “You’re playing dirty.”
He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound in his chest. “Just getting started.” He lifted her into his arms, carrying her effortlessly towards their bedroom, towards the soft glow of the bedside lamp.
He laid her on the bed, her eyes still locked on his, full of an intoxicating blend of trust and desire. He stripped away her clothes, then his own, his movements fluid, unhurried, each touch a testament to years of shared intimacy. There was no awkward fumbling, no hesitation. Just a deep, abiding understanding.
He moved above her, his body already hard, throbbing with anticipation. He kissed her, a deep, consuming kiss that spoke of years of shared laughter, whispered secrets, and quiet comfort. Their tongues danced, intertwined, a familiar rhythm. He tasted her, a flavor that was uniquely Eunchae, a taste of home.
He entered her slowly, deliberately, feeling her open to him, welcoming him. The sensation was immediate, profound, a deep thrumming that resonated through his entire being. There was no condom now, just the raw, uninhibited connection of skin on skin, body on body.
He began to move, a slow, languid rhythm that built steadily, each thrust deeper, more powerful than the last. He felt her clench around him, her inner muscles contracting, pulling him in further. Her hips rose to meet his, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist, urging him on.
“Yes,” she breathed, her voice a low moan. “Just like that, Y/N.”
He watched her face, the way her eyes fluttered closed, the small, breathless gasps that escaped her lips. He knew every flicker of emotion, every subtle shift in her body. He knew when to slow down, when to speed up, when to plunge deep and hold.
His balls slapped rhythmically against her ass as he thrust, the sound a soft, wet shlick against the growing squelch of their bodies. He felt the friction, the delicious heat building between them. He could feel her getting wetter, the slickness increasing with each stroke. He lowered his head, his lips finding her ear, whispering reassurances, words of love.
He felt her body begin to tense, a familiar signal. Her hips began to buck against his, her breathing ragged. He increased his pace, pushing deeper, faster, driving into her with a primal urgency. Her cries grew louder, more insistent.
“I’m… oh, Y/N… I’m so close,” she gasped, her nails digging into his back.
He felt the tremors begin, a delicious tightening around his cock. He pulled back, then plunged forward one last, powerful thrust, burying himself deep inside her. He felt her climax, a series of exquisite contractions that gripped him, squeezing him, milking him. Her body convulsed, a profound release that sent shivers through his own.
He groaned, a deep, guttural sound, and then, with a final, shuddering thrust, he spilled his seed deep inside her, a warm, pulsing wave of pleasure. He collapsed onto her, his body heavy, sated, their breaths mingling in the quiet room.
He lay there for a long moment, feeling the warmth of her body beneath his, the slow thrum of their hearts synchronizing. He kissed her temple, then her lips, a soft, lingering kiss of pure contentment.
“Still awkward?” she whispered, a small smile playing on her lips.
He chuckled, his voice thick with emotion. “Never with you.” He held her tighter, pulling the blanket over them. The city lights still glowed outside, but inside, their world was soft, warm, and perfectly in sync. They had learned, over the years, that love wasn't about perfect beginnings, but about the beautiful, messy journey of learning each other, day by day, touch by touch. And in that, they had found their own perfect rhythm.
Synopsis: While on a space expedition, you make a shocking discovery
Notes: Special thanks to mint and woolly for making this happen.
One last rock. You pulled the lever, and your wonky rover–excavator hybrid bent down, grabbing the large stone and pulling it out of the hole. As soon as it left its bed, the mass started floating, smoothly gliding up before drifting back down. You bumped it with the machine’s hand, letting it bounce to the side where you’d been collecting all the other rocks.
You sat back, looking proudly at your work. You’d made it just in time to still see the two planets in the sky. That was your sign that it was time to head back to base.
You jumped up and made your way to the other rover, built for transportation. The drive back wasn’t very long—good practice was to keep everything close to home—but it still took a considerable amount of time. The problem with living on a new planet was that there wasn’t anybody before you to build streets, lights, or signs you could normally follow to know where you were going.
Poles and boxes were scattered across the landscape as an attempt at landmarks, but if those were all you had, it was hard to tell which direction you were facing. Fortunately, the people smart enough to build the rocket that shot you up here were also smart enough to build a solid GPS system.
When you started seeing the trees, that’s when you could finally relax. The whole planet was like a sea of islands, with deserted land instead of water and small patches of plants serving as islands. Your base was built next to the largest one you could find.
You parked the rover outside and walked in, sealing the door behind you with an exhale.
“Water system looking good?” your teammate asked. He was pouring himself a hot cup of coffee, glancing at documents on his tablet.
“I’ll install it tomorrow. The hole is done,” you answered.
“Good.”
“Are you guys leaving today?” you asked.
“Yeah. I’m reviewing the last papers before we get on the ship. The other crew should arrive shortly after we leave.”
“At least Sakura will stay,” you laughed. “It would be quite lonely.”
Your friend chuckled and set the tablet down. “It’s just five of us already—we couldn’t leave you here alone,” he said, taking a sip of coffee. “She actually volunteered to stay.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah. She said she liked the atmosphere.”
“Huh.”
“It’s really nice, especially compared to how hectic things are back home. You can’t even breathe there.”
“I remember.”
“Anyway, you should get some sleep. You’ve been working on that hole forever.”
“You’re right. I’m exhausted.”
You dragged your boots back to your room, fatigue slowly building in your back and shoulders, pulsing with pain. You placed your palm on the wall. A light flared, tracing the shape of your hand, and the door clicked as it slid open.
Your room was less of a living space and more of a functional nook. A small desk cluttered with spare bolts and a machine you were trying to repair took up most of it. There wasn’t much room for decoration—just a plant near the “window” and a science poster.
You stripped off your dusty jumpsuit, tossing it toward the sanitizer channel embedded in the wall. The suit was sucked into a tube and sent off to be cleaned.
Then you climbed into the pod. The gel mattress hissed as it contoured to your spine, and the lid slid shut with a pneumatic click. As cooling mist circulated, smelling faintly of ozone and mint, your eyes grew heavy. The last thing you saw was the status display: Optimal Recovery Cycle Initiated.
When the pod hissed open, you opened your eyes and stretched yourself awake. Your joints didn’t ache anymore, and the stiffness in your lower back was gone.
You sat up, listening for any sound, but the base was deathly silent. No muffled arguments over logistics, no electric hum—nothing at all. You threw on a fresh shirt and stepped into the main hub.
The table where your teammates had been sitting was cleared. Chairs were pushed back into place, plates and cutlery put away. Through the window, you could see that the transport ship was gone, leaving only a trace of dust on the landing pad.
You walked toward the comms station. “Sakura?” you called out. “You still around?”
You waited, listening to the hum of the air recyclers. Then the greenhouse door hissed open. Sakura stepped out, wiping her hands on a grease-stained rag. She smiled and stopped in front of you.
“They’re gone,” she said. “Left about three hours ago, while your pod was doing its magic. It’s just us now.”
You rubbed the back of your neck, trying to ease the awkwardness settling between you. “Right,” you said. “Well, it’s not bad. We can focus—you know how loud they could get,” you added with a forced chuckle.
Sakura only smiled.
You cleared your throat. “I’m gonna grab some food before I finish the water system. Have you eaten yet?”
“I am not hungry,” she said flatly.
“Suit yourself,” you muttered, heading toward the kitchen to grab the usual prepackaged meal—but Sakura stopped you.
“I prepared a meal for you,” she said.
You turned to look at her. She still wore that calm, satisfied smile. She gestured toward a small table in the corner. You hadn’t noticed it before, but a tray sat there.
“Oh. Thank you, Sakura. You didn’t have to.”
You sat down. Normally, you’d be staring at rehydrated mash and protein shreds sealed in plastic bags. There wasn’t much food to go around—only a few plants from the greenhouse, carefully tended by Sakura, and even those were scarce.
In front of you stood a pyramid of perfectly diced protein blocks, with greens arranged neatly on the side. Real vegetables. Even the water was filled exactly to the brim.
You were intrigued. First came astonishment—she must have spent a considerable amount of time preparing this. The second thought followed quickly after: why? You couldn’t bring yourself to ask.
Sakura was always precise in everything she did. That was why she was here in the first place. You just hadn’t realized the extent of it.
She moved closer, almost gliding instead of clumsily bouncing like you still did under 0.8 gravity.
“It looks… really good,” you said. “Thank you.”
Sakura smiled, watching you with expectant eyes. You picked up the fork and took the top cube from the pyramid as she stared you down. You took a bite. It was warm. It tasted like it always did, really.
“So,” you said, chewing slowly. “Must be weird, huh? Just the two of us. Gonna miss the Captain’s jokes.”
Sakura pulled out a chair and, instead of sitting across from you, took the spot right next to you. “The jokes were very bad,” she said, chuckling.
“True,” you hummed.
“They were distracting.”
“Distracting from what?”
“From the observation.”
You let out a short, nervous laugh, tapping your fork against the metal tray. “You sound so serious. We’re just digging holes, Sakura. You finished the research a while ago. Not much to observe except dirt and rocks.”
“There are always variables.”
“Right.”
You finished the meal with awkward attempts at keeping the conversation going, since she didn’t take your silence as a cue to leave.
“Alright, I’ve got to get the filtration unit running,” you said. You got up, dumped the tray into the scullery slot, and headed to the gear room. You put on your suit, grabbed the heavy tool belt, and drove the transport rover the short distance to the excavation site.
The “hole” was a massive crater you’d spent the last week carving out with the excavator. At the bottom lay humid soil, indicating that you’d hit water.
You parked and hopped down. First, you had to install the pump’s initial layer, which would insulate everything. Then you’d attach the “snake,” the unit that would guide the pump back to the base. There was no way you’d dig an entire channel, so they’d designed a mole-like machine that burrowed through the earth and pulled the tube along behind it.
You were tightening the first flange when a shadow fell over your hands. You jumped, dropping the wrench, which clattered against the pipe. Sakura stood on the rim of the hole, looking down. You hadn’t heard her. She was just standing there.
“You forgot the pressure regulator,” she called.
She tossed it down. The heavy brass regulator sailed through the air and landed with a soft thump in the dirt. You squinted up at her. “Shit, I did forget, huh? Thank you.”
Sakura slid down beside you. “I will assist,” she said as she reached the bottom.
“Uh, look, Sakura, I work better alone,” you said, picking up the regulator. “I’ve got my own rhythm, you know?”
“I know,” she said.
She bent down, grabbed the coupling, and set it in place. She didn’t even grunt. Sakura held the steel piece steady with one hand, effortlessly. You fit the wrench onto the bolt and cranked the torque.
“You’ve been working out?” you asked. “You’re really strong.”
“I was made this way.”
“Got it.”
You worked in silence for the next twenty minutes. Every time you needed a tool, it was there before you could ask. It was incredibly efficient. She knew every detail. You hadn’t expected that, given she’d been assigned to the biology side of things.
“Okay,” you said, wiping your forehead with the back of your glove. The planet’s atmosphere allowed you to go without a helmet, and there was enough pressure not to kill you. The problem was the lack of nitrogen, so you had to use small respirators plugged into your nostrils to compensate.
You reached over and pressed the button. The machine groaned, then the piston fired. The display jittered before the levels began to rise.
“We have water,” you said with satisfaction. “Not bad for a two-person crew, huh?”
Sakura straightened up. “We did good!” She raised her hand toward you.
You stared at it for a moment before realizing she was asking for a high five, then slapped your palm against hers.
“Yeah, we did.”
You gathered your tools, tossing them into the bag. You and Sakura climbed out of the crater and headed to the rover. Off to the side sat the bike Sakura had used to reach you. You took your seat, she took hers, and you drove back to base.
She really was an odd one. Probably the smartest person on the planet, but so strange. Sometimes she seemed completely normal, and everything felt fine. Other times she felt disconnected, unable to understand jokes or read the room. It had to be lonely, being that smart.
Back at the base, you lay down on the couch in the center of the structure and checked the clock. A lot of time had passed—almost half a day—and still no one had arrived. That was strange. The Captain had clearly said the next crew would show up within a few hours. The asteroid wave paths were well charted, and sudden delays were rare.
It was then that Sakura asked you to come to the greenhouse.
“Do you want to see the plants I’ve been working on?”
Truthfully, you hadn’t seen much yet, and curiosity got the better of you.
You followed Sakura through the airlock, and the humidity hit you like a thick, wet blanket. On your left was the Earth sector, bathed in nostalgic yellow light. Tomatoes, wheat, spinach, lettuce, carrots—every kind of vegetable you could think of. On your right, however, were the alien crops: neon-colored growths with thick roots burrowing into the concrete beyond their soil beds. Pink moss crept along the walls, slowly spreading outward.
When you reached the end of the pod, the door behind you slid shut.
“You know why I stayed?” Sakura asked calmly.
“You liked the atmosphere…?” you replied.
“Yeah, that was true,” she said. “But it wasn’t the whole story.”
She raised her hand toward you, and her skin seemed to melt, becoming a greenish, smooth material as translucence spread beneath it. Everything shifted, and her body began to change form.
You stumbled back, hitting the edge of a planter.
“What the fuck,” you breathed.
Her face followed next. Just like her hand, her skin turned bluish, marked with lighter patterns, though it still maintained the humanoid appearance of the Sakura you knew. Uncanny as it was, her pupils expanded until they filled her entire eyes, turning them completely black. Her hair shifted into a pink-silver gradient, and two antennae emerged from her forehead.
“I am not from your species,” she said. “I was assigned to observe it.”
Your mouth was dry. Your hands shook. “By… who?”
“My people from the planet Askura. But I’ll tell you when it’s the right time. It’s a long story, my dear,” she said. “What matters is that I was supposed to leave.” Sakura stepped closer again. You looked around. There was no chance of escape. This was your end.
“I was meant to collect data. Behavioral patterns, language, stress, culture…” Her gaze softened. “But then I met you.”
“You were kind. Interesting. You always worried about me.”
She smiled.
Her fingers brushed your wrist. Warm.
“I have studied you long enough to know what to say right now. I like you,” she said, without hesitation or embarrassment. “Whenever I was around you, I only felt dopamine. I was fixated. Obsessed.”
“That’s not good.”
“For you humans, maybe,” Sakura agreed. “For us, it’s a clear sign. I found my mate.”
“I am staying on this planet. In this base. With you.”
“Sakura… I… I don’t know you.”
“You do. Nothing changes. Nothing at all,” she said as her hand came up to your face, brushing it. “Would you allow me to show you how much I love you?”
You thought about it carefully. You had assumed she was going to kill you, but if she truly liked you… something inside you told you to go ahead.
“Yeah,” you said.
Sakura gently brought her hands to either side of your face, cradling your cheeks as she rested her forehead against yours. You felt a force moving inside your brain, like acceleration, like a magnetic field. Then her antennae began glowing at the tips. A pleasant emotion flooded your mind—unlike anything you’d ever felt before. It wasn’t overwhelming, just completely unique.
“This is how we say ‘I love you’ where I am from,” Sakura said.
“It feels nice,” you said.
Sakura giggled. “But I’ve learned that you humans enjoy kissing?”
“Uh… yeah.”
She leaned in and kissed you with soft lips. They weren’t much different from human lips, though you were sure they were warmer, more moist. You melted into her, the nervousness of being in front of an alien slowly fading away.
Sakura felt your body relax and held onto you.
“Do you feel it?” she asked, pulling back slightly.
“Yeah… I do,” you said. “What is it?”
“I think you humans call it love,” she answered. “We can share emotions with each other for empathy. Understanding feelings only through behavior can be… challenging.”
That explained everything.
“Now that we’ve gone through the formalities, we have to mate.”
“Sorry, what?”
“Mate. You’re my mate.”
“That can’t be right.”
“Or girlfriend, wife, side chick—whatever you humans call it,” Sakura said.
“Okay, I definitely understand now.”
Sakura rubbed her hands along your body before touching her forehead to yours again. Your hormones surged, and you were suddenly rock hard. It felt like you’d swallowed three honey packs at once—completely and utterly aroused.
Her emotional-sharing ability played a role, but mostly it was you: very horny, very aware you were about to fuck an alien.
“Relax, honey,” Sakura said. “I promise it will feel good.”
You understood what she wanted and lowered yourself onto the grass beneath you. You hesitated, unsure about doing this here after all the work Sakura had put into the greenery—but the sensation surprised you. The grass was incredibly soft, almost like synthetic fur, slightly humid, sending a shiver through you. Nothing like the rough park grass you remembered from Earth.
“Are we really doing this?” you asked, uncertain.
“We are,” Sakura said. “Can you show me your appendix?”
“My… penis?”
“Yes.”
“Alright,” you agreed, pulling down the pants of your suit. You were left in your thermal boxers, your erection clearly straining against the fabric. You glanced at Sakura. It was hard to read her expression with her black eyes, but her posture and parted lips made her interest obvious.
You pulled the boxers down and freed your cock.
Sakura gasped.
“So this is what it looks like,” she said, bringing her face dangerously close. You felt her breath on your skin. “It’s not very different from our version. Just as I thought—we’re compatible.”
“Can I touch it?”
You nodded. She wrapped her hand around your cock and began stroking it. Her touch felt strange—slightly sticky, like an invisible adhesive. Moments later, her other hand joined, and you felt her skin warm as her pores secreted a slick, lubricant-like fluid.
That’s when your first moan came out. The sound seemed to please Sakura very much as she let out a surprised yelp. “Oh, you like it?”
She kept stroking you, letting her fingers rub around your tip and shaft. You could see your cock getting wet now as the pleasure increased. Sakura smiled brightly and proudly, pleasing you with passion.
“I believe this is called a handjob?” Sakura asked.
“Yes, it is,” you said. “Fuck, that’s good, Sakura.”
“Are you aroused now?”
“Yeah, I am.”
As soon as she heard that, Sakura stopped.
“No… why did you stop?” you said, disappointed.
“I got you aroused, we have to copulate now,” Sakura said. “That’s the whole point.”
“I guess…”
Sakura quickly slipped out of her suit, revealing her naked alien body. It wasn’t much different from a human body, other than the color of her skin with the fluorescent patterns on her body. Sakura sat down on her knees and invited you with a gesture.
You got up and got closer to her. “Can I touch your body?”
“Of course you can.”
Your hands came to her, cupping her alien breasts. They were firm and soft under your palms, the texture slightly different from human flesh. Her nipples were stiff and pointed, pressing into your palms as you kneaded the soft flesh.
It was her turn to moan now. You took your time exploring her body. Your thumbs plaid with her nipples, testing how stiff they were, squeezing the breast to understand how firm they were. All in the meanwhile, your dick kept getting harder and harder. Unknown to you, Sakura was getting wetter too.
It wasn’t much later that she stopped you. She was in a hurry.
“Let’s do it,” Sakura said. She laid down on her back, right on the grass, and spread her legs. Her hands came down to stretch, what looked like a vagina, open for you. It was similar to a human one, pink and wet.
You couldn’t lie to yourself; you were extremely aroused and couldn’t wait any longer.
You positioned yourself over Sakura’s body, her leg spread wide to accommodate you. As you pressed our head against her entrance, she gasped, her eyes widening with excitement. In the meantime, you were gritting your teeth, trying not to cum immediately from the tightness of her pussy.
You pushed forward slowly, and you could immediately feel it, the incredible suction, actively pulling you in. The walls were textured with tiny, almost imperceptible, fleshy protrusions that gripped your shaft like a vice. Then you realize the interior has its own musculature, rippling and contracting around you.
You can’t believe the sensation around your cock. Her pussy seems to have a mind of its own, squeezing you in rhythmic pulses. The texture is incredible, soft yet firm, wet and slippery, all the while gripping on you like a vacuum.
“Fuck, Sakura, this is crazy,” you exclaim.
Sakura responds by putting her hands around your neck in an encouraging gesture.
You do your best to find a rhythm. Her pussy clenches around you harder with each thrust. You abandon every plan of lasting longer and thrust as hard as you can, fueled by Sakura’s moans. She looks so happy and excited, you couldn’t let her down.
Suddenly, Sakura arches up, and a long, serpentine tongue comes out from her mouth, easily twice the length of a human tongue.
“Kiss me,” she demanded breathlessly. You can only obey.
You lean down, and her tongue slides into your mouth, tracing your teeth, battling with your own tongue. She has a weird aftertaste, but you don’t care and keep thrusting into her.
Your hands were locked around her small waist as you lifted her off the ground, pounding her. That’s when you realize you were representing the whole humanity in that very moment. You might as well have been the very first human that was fucking an alien. There was no way you could have been remembered as having weak thrusts. No, you had to show her.
You slammed into her, fighting off the suction of her pussy with speed. The force of your entry makes her cry out, eyes widening with shock. You set a brutal pace like a wild animal. You pounded her again and again, her body bouncing with each impact, her breasts swaying and jiggling.
“Stars and moon! Human, you are wild!” she exclaimed.
She was gripping you even tighter now, and the force in your arms was running low, so you gently put her down and continued to fuck her with a more gentle pace. You could feel your orgasm building, your balls tightening, and there was no way you could hold it for any longer.
“Sakura, I have to cum,” you managed to say. As you were sitting back, Sakura locked her legs around your waist, and her pussy contracted painfully around you.
“Why?” she whimpered. “Why would you pull out? Don’t you love me?”
Your scientist mind was telling you to stop. This was an alien. You were a human. What were the ethics of what you were doing? You shouldn't even have been inside her in the first place. What if she got pregnant? Then what?
The genetics, ethics, and morals were storming your mind, but when you heard Sakura's words, one thing was clear.
She grabbed your face. “Please.” The greenhouse ceiling turned transparent, revealing stars, moons, and distant supernova glowing above. “On the grass of Askura, under the stars—just like we do. I waited so long. Cum inside me, human.”
You had to breed her.
“Fuck,” you roared, as thick ropes of cum shot out of you. You spilled into her, your hot seed flooding her alien pussy.
Her legs were still locked around your waist, holding you deep inside her as you emptied yourself into her. You could feel her pussy massaging and stroking you even as you were cumming, milking every drop.
Finally, as your orgasm subsided, Sakura relaxed back down, and so did you, your body giving up and collapsing next to her.
“You’re mine now, human, you’re my mate,” Sakura comments. “And I’ll let you know, we mate with only one individual throughout our lives. You’re mine.”
You don’t know what to say and just fall asleep. That pussy was stellar.
You signed up to Rent-a-friend out of boredom. It's as simple as that.
….nah. That’s not quite right. It went more like this:
You'd been staring at the same corner of your apartment for weeks, organising your big bottles of acrylics while thinking about absolutely nothing and everything at once. You barely made it for competitions, and your bills pile up incessantly.. Your canvases sales took a toll due to supply and demand, barely keeping you afloat (something about modern art that you refuse to follow), and pessimistic thoughts clouded your mind when you were alone in your apartment. That's when you heard some murmurs from your friends. "Bro, Rent-a-friend." They advertised, "You hang out, and you get money. Simple, eh?" and "Stop clinging to the past, man. Maybe you can find someone else here."
It is so fucking ridiculous, right? What kind of people will just pay you to just….hang out? Just exist in someone else's days without actual commitment? But with a few more nags, you sign up belatedly. Curiosity and desperation really does make a hell of a cocktail.
Which is how you ended up here. In the middle of your messy studio.
As a painter, working with acrylic tends to let the medium have its way of getting everywhere if you let it be — plastic sheets taped to the floor, accidental paint smears dried onto the wall, neglected brushes soaked in cloudy unchanged water. With one hand braced against the wood, you are currently scrubbing at a stubborn streak of beige on the table.
And right in the middle of it, the bell rings. Oh look, your client has arrived.
Pushing yourself up, you quickly trudge towards the kitchen sink and rinse your hands until the paint fades. Looking down at yourself, all that greets you is a concoction of madness — a wrinkled and paint-splattered shirt, and an even more paint-splattered old pair of jeans. You run your fingers through your hair, putting not much thought into it as you push the strands back. Your face freshens up with a quick rinse, ignoring the tired eyes. Yeah, good enough.
It stops being good enough the second you open the damn door.
The guest is a girl who stands a little too straight, most likely trying to match up to your height (she probably remembers your profile). White cardigan that is definitely bigger than her petite frame, she clutches her tote bag close to her chest. She has this long and luscious black hair that she lets down freely, but you catch a glimpse of a hair tie on her wrist. Her eyes then flick up, meeting yours for a moment, before giving you a warm smile.
"Hi," she says hesitantly. "I'm Gaeul. I, uh….I booked for the rent-a-friend service."
Wow, she really has quite a soft and gentle voice. But you are certain that she is anything but weak. Careful sounds more like the right term, which is fair.
Regardless, you step aside. "You're at the right place. Come in."
"Oh- okay." She slips past you, already apologising under her breath even though she hasn't bumped into anything. She takes her shoes off neatly, and lines them up against the wall next to your paint-covered slippers that are anything but neat. And of course, like any other client, Gaeul has her gaze drifting immediately to the mess you're still in the middle of cleaning up.
"Wow, you actually paint?" "I wouldn't put it on my profile if I don't."
She hums quietly, eyes darting to the scattered brushes, the canvases leaning against the wall, and then the mess that definitely shatters the vivid imagery of an artist. Her attention lingers on the small canvases mounted neatly, mundane objects, fruits, a woman sitting on a chair, then back to the mess.
You gesture her towards the table instead. "Have a seat."
She sits on the edge of the chair at first, but then decides to scoot in properly when she realises how silly she looks. You sit across from her (duh. This isn't an escort service, what the hell) and slid the contract to her.
"I'll explain it first," you clear your throat. "I assume it will be better to hear it from me directly than just through DMs. You can read it if you want as I talk."
She looks relieved immediately. "Appreciate your consideration."
'No worries." you give her an assuring smile. "So, first and foremost, you are renting me as your company." Your voice is clear yet casual. "The transaction applies only face-to-face. So that includes hanging out, drinking, whatever you want to try, as long as it's legal, doesn't cross boundaries, and hurts no one." You point at the clauses on the paper. "The max is seven days. It doesn't have to be consecutive, nor do you have to use all of them."
She nods slowly, eyes fixed on you.
"But don't worry, messaging and calling are free, frankly because it is too annoying to quantify those. So you can send me memes, reels, or complaints at 2 a.m., that's fair game."
Her lips twitch. "That's…good to know."
You keep on explaining every little detail in the contract — no obligations after the contract ends, you are simply just there to accompany her, not setting her straight. Luckily, she listens attentively, nods at the right moments, and asking questions that tell you she read the website twice.
"And the…item?" she gets quite hesitant.
"Ah, so about that," You scratch your head as you smile sheepishly. "Something not exactly valuable but with some high emotional value. I can assure you that it is nothing nefarious."
She hesitates (which is understandable), then opens her bag. Her fingers move automatically, digging through everything inside, displaying them on the table — lipstick, lip balm, the forgotten snack, and more. But then she stops rummaging, looking at the hair tie on her wrist. She removes it from her and then places it on the table carefully.
"I use it all the time, well because I have long hair, but also—" she reasons herself a tad too quickly. "Whenever I work. When I need to focus. I don't know…to feel confident, maybe?"
You glance at it. The hair tie is slightly stretched. And soft from use.
"I'll take it." And you hear the exhale from her like she has been holding her breath for so long. You give her a pen. She signs. Her hands are steady.
And the ink dries. Just like the uncleaned streak of beige on the table.
-
Gaeul is an angel at first glance. Soft voice. Polite smile. Harmless energy. Then she grins, and somehow it scares the shit out of you.
Let’s rewind.
You’re currently walking with her. She holds herself a little too straight, fingers constantly fiddling with the strap of her tote bag. Her eyes dart around the street, alert, like she’s mapping out an escape route in case this whole thing turns out to be a scam. It’s almost endearing, if not painfully obvious. So…you decide to break the ice, searching for a decent one in your head. 'So…what do you do for work?"
Ok, you already know. Background checks exist for a reason. But you don’t want this hang out to be just as awkward as your first time in a relationshi—
“I work in retail,” she replies. “Sales assistant. Clothing store.”
Phew. Something to work with.
She goes on about her days at work, that every morning she always wears her tight black skirt and matching waistcoat (she looks really cute when she shows you the photo) to spend the day serving customers and working behind the till. She admits she was lucky to get the job six months after graduating from junior college.
“The store’s nice,” she adds quickly.
But then she exhales.
“It was the only offer I got,” she admits. “After so many rejections, I just… accepted it immediately. Even though it was in Seoul.”
She tells you that she lives quite far away from Seoul. It is admittingly funny to see her cheeks puffing up when she rants about the nearest convenience store being a fifteen-minute drive away, and even that is just one lonely shop all by itself on a main road. Magazines always go on sale a few days later than they do anywhere else. There are no cinemas or fashion stores. Nothing she could call a restaurant either; the closest things are the small local diners with set menus.
To sum up her little rant: dying of boredom. Which is far more relatable than someone you have spent your late teens with. And hence she's here now. In Seoul. Renting you.
"So…" you try to sound casual, "what made you actually look this up?"
Gaeul gives you a sigh. "Well…I don't have anyone who I can just try things with. I mean, I have friends here, obviously. But they would definitely judge me for doing things out of character. I’m not exactly that close with them." She glances at you, probably testing whether you'll judge her. "So I was quite relieved that you guys' service is providing someone who isn't going to tell me off."
To be fair, you might judge in your head, but you don’t tell her that. "Well, that's what we do."
She laughs softly (albeit a bit embarrassed) and then tugs at a strand of hair before tucking it behind her ear. "Although, it is still quite weird, talking to someone I basically hired."
"It's supposed to feel weird, I don't blame you." you chuckle. "Kind of like you're wondering when you’ll get the character you want in a gacha game. Half of the thrill is seeing whether it will be a terrific pull or a terrible pull."
"…huh?" "Don't worry about it."
You walk in silence for a few moments (because that was so cringe). The faint sound of crows laughs at you. The air smells like hazy afternoon rain and warm asphalt. People pass by, each of them moving like they already know where they’re headed.
"So," you clear your throat. "I can assume this is the first time you're renting a friend?"
She shakes her head. "No, I did book a few before, actually. I was desperate to find something, I guess. I was nervous, and…uh, bored." She bites her lips. "Curiosity too. I don't want to stay in this routine forever. I mean, it's fine, I'm fine. I'm happy that the job is fine, but…"
"You don't want to just turn old and grey in your work uniform?"
"…huh, that's a witty way of saying it." "I do have my thunder. Thank you, Gaeul."
She smiles. "So…" she stretches out her world. "you're willing to follow me to do whatever dumb stuff I want?"
"For seven days." You inadvertently lift the corner of your mouth up. "We do whatever you want to try."
And you do indeed.
First stop? A photo booth. You know, one of those pop-up ones tucked between restaurants, with pastel curtains and stickers slapped everywhere. You barely have time to protest before she's already dragging you into it (reasons: just because). The photos come out poorly framed and awkward. One picture, you're mid-blink. In another, you made a terrible joke that made Gaeul laugh so hard her head tilted out of frame.
"Gosh, why did you make me duck my head?!" "Don't blame my joke, come on!"
Accessories stall is the next stop. She tries on sunglasses that are far too big for her face. A bucket hat that she immediately rejects. Hair ties she picks up one by one and, for reasons unknown, starts trying on you instead.
“Wait what th— I barely have any hair to tie?” “Shush, it’s funny.”
You just let her be since it’s easier than questioning it.
Down a few streets later, she buys a drink she's never had before. A dessert she's unsure about. She insists on trying your order and lets you try hers without hesitation. Some items fit both your tastes, but some aren't so great that Gaeul pushes them away for you to finish it.
The little moments do hit you quietly in your heart. Something about the small detours. The ‘fuck it we ball’ approach in trying everything. Rewinds you back when you are still with 'her', and you always wonder if she manages to get more free time for herself.
But you don't get to linger on the thoughts as Gaeul slows down at a particular block.
Her eyes lock onto a sign ahead and you follow her gaze. The restaurant sits wedged between a phone repair shop and a convenience store. The sign is loud and modern, adorned with bold letters that promise a tad too much confidence. "Mystery Curry Challenge here! Free if you finish!" You read the bold letters, and then the smaller text below. "Special Flavour only. Wait, special how?"
She presses her lips together, suppressing a laugh. "Well they say it is shitty."
"That's never a good sign."
You push the door open. A small bell jingles overhead, a bit too cheerful for the unknown flavour ahead that you are about to taste. Inside, it's bright and loud — . LED warm lighting, Gen Z music, tables packed close together. A giant screen on the wall loops promotional videos, and something about challenges.
The waitress looks at you two. "Are you guys here for the challenge?"
Gaeul hesitates, then nods. "Yes, for two, please."
You're led to a long communal table. Gaeul sits across from you, smoothing her skirt, then tying her hair up without even thinking about it.
You blink. “When did you get another hair tie?”
She just shrugs.
"Also, why is everyone watching us?" "Well, we're talking about this infamous challenge, can't blame them."
"…Ok you’re right."
The plates arrive on sleek black trays, and the curry looks…intentional (and that is polite, for you). Thick and glossy, with the texture that is very wrong. The smell hits a second later, and it smells bitter, spicy, and oh yeah, very wrong. And guess what? The staff member cheerfully advertises them as poop-flavoured curry.
Ugh. It is literally shitty.
Gaeul leans forward slightly. "Gosh, it smells worse up close."
"At least this will do numbers on Tiktok." You fight the urges to gag.
When the staff member puts their hand on the small timer and lets you know when to start, you both pick up the spoons.
"See you on the other side, Gaeul." "See you too."
The timer clicks. You take a bite.
It is so shit.
Not even joking, it is so bad.
It's the kind of bad that feels so deliberate. With each bite, you are so flabbergasted at the fact that no one stops during the brainstorming process to think: Why? Seriously? Who the fuck would think of this abomination?
To describe the taste in whatever words you can conjure up, the first hit is…bitter? It's not a good kind, either, it's a weird mix of cocoa powder combined with bitter melon (wow, genius observation right there) from what you can point out. Then comes the spice slap to your face, which Gaeul points out it is coming from minced chicken, yam, and the motherfucking fish guts. What? How does she even know what fish guts taste like? Oh don't even start about how the aftertaste creeps in immediately, with the rush of the curry powder crouching from the back, and proceeds to cling and linger to the back of your throat.
Tl;dr: It's dense. Stagnant. Worse than wet cardboard simmered with whatever they can find in the trash can.
And it looks like Gaeul is not taking it well either, even though she suggested this place. Across from you, she goes completely still. Spoon hovering mid-air. A mouthful filling up her cheeks, eyes wide with most likely regret. A single syllable escapes from her, "Oh", and that sums up the whole experience. As expected, someone nearly laughs, a phone camera tilts your way, but both your focuses are on how to survive the literal shitshow in your mouth.
She takes another bite. "I can't believe this isn't a safety hazard."
“Well,” you croak, “it attracts curious idiots like us.”
You don't finish it. Well, neither of you does. The free meal sounds tempting, but sanity is far more valuable. Eventually, she sets her spoon down too, laughing, eyes watering, even.
'I'm sorry I dragged you into this." Gaeul claps her hand, apologising.
"D-don't worry about it." You cough, the lingering taste of shit staining your throat. "But I might break the rules and judge you for whatever you're cooking up next."
She laughs it off and smacks you on the shoulder.
-
"You ate literal shit?"
Sakura's voice crackles through your phone, loud enough to fill the quiet hum of your apartment. You pause mid-stroke, acrylic hovering just above the canvas. A muddy brown smear already stains the corner, which is unintentional yet fitting to the conversation.
"Poop flavoured, Sakura," you correct, as if that remedies things. "Poop flavoured."
"Tomayto, tomahto, same shit," she fires back immediately. You can hear her scoffing, probably pacing around, or whatever she is doing (most likely gaming). "Why would you do that voluntarily?"
"...I get paid to do it?" "You're not that broke, damn it."
You smile, eyes drifting back to the half-finished painting, but it's not anything concrete yet so far— still shapes and blobs.
"So," Sakura continues, her voice picking up a more curious tone, "what's she like? The girl who convinced you to eat shit."
"Please don't say shit, far out. I’m about to get PTSD with how many times you repeat that word." You groan. "And her name's Gaeul. She works at the retail store three streets away. Doesn't like the city but hates the inconvenience of the countryside more."
"That sounds….tiring." "Guess so, yeah."
You dab more paint onto the canvas, dragging it forward. "Interesting girl, though. Cute face, small, having unexpected yet funny points about her."
"Yeah, eating shit really is a charming point." "Sakura."
"Anyway, is she better than that girl you used to—" "Shut it, Kkura."
Her annoying ass is still the same as when you first met…by accident.
It was a day out at the café, a drink on the side and staring at the front page of Rent-a-friend on your laptop. You could've done this at home at the comfort of privacy, but free wifi was too tempting. You snort at the slogan: "Accompanying services. Friendships without the need to impress.", yet your hands are busy flying across the keyboard and filling up the application.
You should've noticed how Sakura was eyeing your screen from the next table. "Is that…Rent-a-friend?"
You almost dropped your drink halfway through. "Were you spying on me?"
"You're in public, that's on you."
You were so ready to snap, until she tilted her phone towards you and would you look at that, the exact same page, already half-filled. "Hey, I need money too, and this sounds tempting."
Somehow, you two ended up sitting together and helping each other out filling the forms. Comparing details. Laughing at certain application questions. Two strangers bonding over mutual financial ruin and curiosity, pretty much. Now she's your coworker, the one who knows you well enough to roast the living shit out of you.
"So…" Sakura drags out the word, "How long until she asks you to eat something worse?"
As if summoned, the phone buzzes loudly on the table. You check at the screen, and it's an incoming Facetime from Gaeul.
“Oh?” she says. “Speak of the devil.”
“I’ll call you back.”
“Don’t die,” she replies. “Or worse, don’t eat more shit. Let me know at the end if she is better than you-know-who~”
You hang up and swipe to answer Gaeul. The screen fills with motion immediately. The camera shakes, accompanied by loud clangs — metal against ceramic, something sliding aggressively across a counter, and Gaeul groans at something. Probably something bad.
"Hiya Gaeul," you peer into the screen. "Why does it sound like a mess?"
"I'm cooking." "Oh damn."
She shifts the phone, and her kitchen comes into view. Clean. Modern. Clearly unused. She reaches up and ties her hair without even thinking. Again.
"Oooh, nice. Whatcha making?"
"The poop-flavoured curry."
"Wait, why?" You drop your brush. "I mean, it's funny as hell, but why?"
She keeps stirring the pot with her wooden spoon. "It tastes really bad—”
“Truly bad.”
“...and I just want to understand how it goes that wrong…and maybe see if I can make it good."
"Gosh, now that is a challenge." You pick up your brush from the ground and clean it up. "I sure hope you can find the pot at the end of the rainbow."
"I don't remember the contract saying you can use sarcasm." "Jeez, forgive me, Miss Gaeul."
You two laugh for a moment before resuming your respective activities while on call — you with another brush stroke on the canvas, mixing the blues and greens, while Gaeul pours the blended bitter melon down to the pot, stirring the (admittingly atrocious) contents. She tells you that she searched for the recipe online — the curry originated from this experimental restaurant in Japan. And as you two expected, the recipe calls for onion, carrot, minced chicken, bitter gourd, cocoa powder, Japanese green gentian tea (for more bitterness, because why not), the damn fish gut, and curry powder. Of course, you two aren’t sure if it is one ingredient that fucks it all, or the combination of all of them that is the cause. But for a lack of better phrase: pretty much a shitty combination.
It feels natural, you realised, about the situation right now. Just doing your own things, and Gaeul doing hers, connected only by a phone call. You've had clients before, sure, with plenty of conversations. But this back-and-forth feels new. Probably because it is something you longed to do with ‘her’ back then. Instead, all you get is rushed calls, unanswered messages, always too busy, always somewhere else, and always promising later until it's not.
And yet you still cling to the thought that she still thinks about you at rare chances.
The call goes on. You can hear the knife thudding unevenly. She tries the first option today for improvement — a combination of honey and natural sugar. You're halfway through the distressing call before she puts it in.
It's not that hard to picture her expression from the noise that follows.
-
She doesn't give up after that night. Or the next. Or the other next. (Why….?)
The whole fiasco slips naturally into your days with her, wedging between walking aimlessly through the city, sitting on convenience store steps after her shifts, and sometimes asking you interesting questions that rivals the topic of "do we have one butt or two butts?". Sometimes face-to-face, and sometimes through calls that stretch out till late night because neither of you hangs up.
And another quality to learn from her is that she is persistent. No wonder she has big dreams.
"Okay," she exhales one afternoon. "I reduced the cocoa powder."
"And…?" "Bad idea, the cocoa powder made it more bearable."
Another day, another call.
"I replaced the melon with apple this time."
"Wait, why?"
"Sweetness of the apples is better than bitter melon, you think?"
"Uhuh…sure…" your squint. "And?"
"…did not help at all. It still tastes like shit."
You laugh so hard you almost knock over the jar of muddied water.
She reports everything in detail, and soaks every single bit up, because you're way too deep into this very important matter. Too bitter. Too sweet. Sometimes she tells you about a weird aftertaste that is akin to coconut lotion. Sometimes she scrunches her nose and makes you listen to her gag. Other times you see her stop herself, spoon hovering mid-air.
By the 7th, and final, allowable day in person, she texts you when you're pulling out the pans for dinner.
Gaeul:
Can you come over tonight? I made food for you as a thank you.
Huh. It does warm your heart a little.
When you arrive at her place, the smell that greets you the moment the door opens is — oh god. Putrid sounds too light to describe, it overrides the thought that this is your first proper look at her place beyond the video calls. Small. Cozy. The timber patterned vinyl panel contrasts with the white wall. And, yep, the smell brings you right back to the situation.
In the middle of the warzone was Gaeul with her hair already tied up, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. On the table is a pair of plates of curry. Wait, no, two pairs?
Ah shit, poop-flavoured curry.
"I made four in total." she announced. "One with the remedy I thought it's the best, and one exactly like the restaurant."
"You're insane." "And we're having one each."
"You're beyond insane." "Yep."
You sit at the chair while she cleans up the kitchen — wiping the counter, and throwing and soaking the used pots in the sink. You, on the other hand, can only stare at the identical plates in front of you and freeze, unsure if it's the visual or the smell that comes to knock on your funeral.
Fuck, you forgot to write your will before you left home.
"Ready?" Gaeul hands you your spoon and sits across you.
"Fuck it, we ball, I guess…?"
"Pff. See you on the other side."
You both take a bite. One from the original plate, and one from the improved.
It is so shit, still. Both of them. Like not even joking, it's still so bad. Ok, but the two versions are slightly different, sure. But it feels far more insulting, knowing the efforts that went into this.
Gaeul, across from you, freezes mid-chew. She swallows slowly, and in a very disgusted way. "…Holy shit."
"Literal shit, indeed. You cooked this, may I tell you."
"Don't remind me!" she protests weakly, tasting both plates again, hoping that maybe the second time will be kinder to her. The way her shoulder slumps down tells you everything.
You put your spoon down, still feeling the after effects. "Hey."
She looks up, cheeks as red as a tomato.
"It's good, you know?" You gesture at the plates. "That you're able to question how you can improve yourself and take your time AND putting effort into it. Look at this? You made literal shit?"
She stares at you for a second. Then she lets out a loud and genuine laugh, head tipping forward and not even covering her mouth. "Ya! You're so awful!"
"You're the awful one here! You made me eat this!"
You don't finish the curry. Neither of you does, because it will be a death sentence if you both continue. Gaeul pokes at hers once more with a spoon, blubbing out if different ratios will help, or swapping the stock instead, or removing some ingredients. You, however, just beg for her to stop.
The conversation afterwards becomes more mundane. Gaeul tells you about customers today who already know what they want but still ask for advice. About how one of the two fluorescent lights above her reception desk fused and annoyed her. You tell her about these painting commissions for your frequent customer from a well-off family with a background in ballet that goes back for quite a long time. But then the conversation takes a U-turn back to the damn fucking curry again, and you two can only laugh at the inevitable.
"Let's not make this curry again, Gaeul." "Don't worry, I will slap myself if I do again."
She smiles at you, fingers fidgeting with a few strands of her hairs. "So…um…" her voice is casual, "if…after this, would you maybe want to hang out again? Not—" she rushes on, "not like with the contract, I mean. Just—"
It really doesn't take a genius to see it. You can see it. Clear as day. Especially how she sheepishly looks away. But the memories still chain you back to the past and cling to a sliver of hope that you knew would not happen, yet you still cling onto it like a madman.
And so, you start. "Gaeul."
She looks up.
"You're great," you say honestly. "I had fun with you, I really do."
Her shoulders relax.
"But," you continue, choosing your words carefully. "I'm not really in a place fo—" you sigh, realising that beating around the bush won't do, especially for Gaeul. "Truth to be told, I'm still hung up on my ex. It's hard to forget your first love, you know?"
And you just end at that.
"Oh," she exhales. You can see the disappointment flashing on her face, but she reins it in almost immediately. She nods. "Yeah. That's understandable."
"Sorry about that."
"No, don't worry." she smiles again. "I like guys who are honest."
You stand to leave not long after helping her clean up (and a mutual gagging at the plates later). She walks you to the door, hands tucked into her sleeves.
"Thank you," she says again, standing behind you. "For taking up my request. For not judging me. And for eating with me."
"Trauma bonding," you give her a thumbs up. That gives her a good laugh.
"I'll probably still message and call you. If that's okay…good friend."
You chuckle. "Anytime, good friend."
-
The apartment is quiet as you open the door. Just another night.
You wash your hands first, because the curry smell still clings faintly. The sink gurgles, water running over your knuckles, until it finally goes clear. Only then do you return to the corner of the room where your nearly finished canvas waits.
And the hair tie rests beside it. Plain, black, and slightly stretched out from overuse. It is halfway through the painting that you come to appreci– ah no, notice the softness to it, the one that comes from being pulled and released a hundred times a day, wrapped around a wrist, twisted into place without thought. Yet it is that same mundane object that can lift Gaeul’s spirit and determination up that easily. You wonder if it does anything to yours for a brief moment…or at all.
You shake the thought off and pick up the large brush to resume the painting.
Firstly, the background — just the beige wall behind the hair tie. Nothing extravagant. Nothing loud. You let your wrist loose and allow the strokes to go whatever. A simple loop at first, and then you pause to add a brown to the paint mix. Darker tones this time. Shadows behind the object. You give it a few more layers until it is adequate enough.
Next, the thinner brush.
The bristles drag gently across the pencil outline, leaving clear ridges behind. You keep on layering, one after another, until you can't see the white underneath the grey layers. You add a few faint highlights where the light would catch. Your fingers smudge the edge absentmindedly, blending while you can still feel the wetness of the paint. You never chase perfection anymore — because that’s her habit, and it cost you too much once. Even thinking about her name feels dangerous, too much like opening Pandora's box. So you just kept it shut and let the apartment stay quiet.
The phone beside you lit up. Seems like a message from Gaeul: Thanks for the past few days, good friend. Love to hang out with you even after today :)
Fuck, the guilt hits immediately. You still vividly remember how her voice dropped when you told her straight on that you weren’t really available for anything more. No excuses about the contract nor any other convenient lie. Hell, you didn’t even tell her who you were still hung up on, only that you were. And most of all, you hate how relieved you felt when she just accepted it without asking for more.
You step back when the last stroke lands.
The painting of her hair tie is done.
Your phone lights up again. No, not Gaeul again, and certainly not ‘her’. Never ‘her’. Just notifications waiting to be cleared, or Sakura shit talking about her clients again, or someone has placed an order for your painting or another client has been assigned to you just as usual. You will look at it, confirm it, and prepare contracts for another assignment as usual. To just move on with life.
But for tonight, you just stare at the finished painting, and remember the shitty curry, wallowing in your old memories once more, and a girl named Gaeul who tried her best.
Woooo time to kickstart the series with IVE's resident gremblin, Gaeul! This series comes to be from me reading a book named "What You Are Looking For Is in the Library" by Michiko Aoyama. It's such a heartwarming book and I recommend you to check it out later.
Writing a series is definitely much more difficult than my usual things, but I'm excited to see where Rent-a-friend goes. Special thank you to @okaylikeschaewon for greenlighting the idea and give me suggestions, and also appreciate both @autumnyacorn and @mysonesecret for betareading <3
If you have seen the Rules page, you noticed that there is a mystery person. Have fun guessing guys, I wonder how long will it take to get the correct answer lol.
(HINT: 4th Gen Idol)
Anyway, thank you for reading! Love yall ducklings~ See ya in Part 2!
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Kazuha hides a secret—she has a penis—and when she comes to your house for a sleepover, the worst happens: you see her bulge.
“Ah, that was fun!” Kazuha exhales, stretching out on the couch. She wiggles a little, trying to free herself from the soft pile of pillows that had slowly swallowed her over the past hour. She turns around, her legs still folded beside you, and gives you a lazy smile with her cheek pressed against the back of the sofa.
“I’m feeling tired,” she sighs, “but I’m not really sleepy.”
“Yeah, I don’t wanna go to sleep yet,” you answer, patting your pockets for the remote before standing to go look for it.
“You still have the snacks, right?” she asks, tapping your knee with her foot.
“Of course, it’s not like I can eat all of that alone.”
“Mmmh, maybe you could,” Kazuha grins.
“Way to go, calling me fat.”
“I didn’t say that!” she protests immediately, sitting up straighter.
“It was implied,” you reply, and stand up.
“Are you offended? No, don’t go!” she groans dramatically, reaching an arm toward you.
You chuckle. “I’m not offended. I’m going to the kitchen to get something to drink.”
You laugh. “I’m not offended. Just going to get something to drink.”
“Alright,” she says, letting herself fall backward into the couch cushions again.
You pause at the doorway. “Hey, why don’t you get into your pyjama?”
Kazuha blinks, then nods. “Yeah, I should. Can I use your shower? I still haven’t cleaned.”
“Yep, that’s fine. Go ahead,” you say. “I’ll change here.”
“Okay,” she hums, stretching once more before slowly sliding off the couch.
You’re opening the fridge while you hear Kazuha fidgeting around with her overnight bag, followed by the soft sound of her footsteps echoing down the hallway. You grab the orange juice and pour yourself a glass.
The sleepover hadn’t been planned long in advance. You had just casually joked with her, saying you should have a sleepover sometimes since you were such good friends, except this time you both actually followed through. Kazuha had seemed a little nervous at first, hesitating at your door with her bag slung over her shoulder, cheeks pink, and fidgeting fingers. But the moment the two of you sat down, started talking, and put on a movie, she just went along with it.
You change into your pyjamas, if that’s the right term—a loose shirt and soft loung pants—and drop back onto the couch, letting your body sink into the cushions. While waiting for Kazuha to finish her shower, you grab the remote and flip the TV on a random channel just to not keep the room too quiet.
You stretch out, one warm tucked under your head, the other resting lazily across your stomach. It doesn’t take long for you to start dozing off, but you don’t want to fight it and let your eyelids softly rest on your pupils.
You don’t hear the bathroom door click open, and neither the soft footsteps padding down the hallway.
Kazuha just came out of the shower and was walking towards the living room. Her steps slow down when she sees your silhouette. From her angle, she can’t see your face, but the light from the screen illuminated your figure just enough for her to get a good look at all the important parts: the way your hair fell across your face, the gentle rise and fall of your breathing. A bit of your collarbone was peeking out of your baggy shirt, the fabric loose around your midsection—there was too much skin.
She feels her breath quicken. Her hands quickly move to her chest, and she tries to collect herself. There’s something about seeing you so relaxed, so unguarded, that made her feel all weird inside.
That sharp jawline, the thin fabrics on top of your skin—your skin—her mind starts flashing pictures of what it might look like underneath. The veins on your hands and forearms, your waist, and her eyes are glued to you.
‘What are you thinking, Kazuha?’ she tells herself. Her cheeks flush and her face gets warm, but then the feeling lowers down, to her chest, down to her stomach, and then… between her legs.
That’s when Kazuha starts sweating.
She can feel it harden under her and stretch the fabric. ‘No, no, no, no, no, fuck, not right now,’ she swears silently and tries her best to think of something else. No help. You’re right in front of her, how could she think of something else?
Her hands go to cover her crotch, but it doesn’t help at all and instead keeps growing.
Kazuha is so caught up in her own mind that she doesn’t realize you’re already up and staring her from the couch, and when her hands go to her sides, you get a very good glimpse of it—her bulge.
Your eyes are wide open and your mouth slightly agape.
Kazuha’s face is frozen, though her eyes are twitching. Her mouth is open, but no sound comes out. The color drains from her skin in an instant, leaving her face pale and cold. She can’t breathe; instead, she just stares at you, utterly exposed. You weren’t supposed to see that. No, anyone but you.
“I—is that…?” you stutter. The words come out of their own, and you suddenly feel embarrassed at your forwardness.
Kazuha tries to hide herself, though it is too late. Her knees give out and she collapses on the floor, knees folding together, her head bowed down.
“Yeah. That… is a bulge.”
“Sorry,” that’s all you can say.
“I… Fuck,” Kazuha starts. She’s almost on the brink of her tears and can’t look you in the eyes. You can’t blame her. “I’ve been hiding it and… I didn’t want you to see me differently.”
You don’t know what to say and instead keep staring at her, knowing it probably makes things worse, but feeling helpless in the lack of options. You sit more upright on the couch and rub the back of your neck.
“You have a penis,” you say.
“Yeah, I have a dick,” Kazuha repeats bluntly. She’s tired of running around it. You’ve seen it, and it’s probably the last time you’ll talk to her. She just wants to get it over with.
“But you’re…”
“I’m a woman, yes, just… with a dick.”
“Kazuha, I didn’t know…”
Kazuha looks defeated. Her shoulders slump lifelessly together with her hands, resting on her lap. “No one knows about this,” she murmurs. She takes a shaky breath, lifting her eyes just enough for you to see the shame in her face. “Promise to keep it a secret? Please.”
Her usual playful tone is gone. Her voice feels rough, filled with remorse. Now it’s angry, angry with herself. “I know it’s gross, and weird, just—”
“I don’t think it’s weird.”
Kazuha’s head snaps up at that. Her eyes widen in pure surprise. She doesn’t finish her sentence. There are a couple of words that try to slip out from her quivering lips, but then she quiets down. She had already prepared herself for judgment and didn’t know what to do with acceptance.
The relief is too sudden, too confusing.
“It’s fine, really,” you say. “I don’t mind it.”
A breath escapes her. It chokes her. Then she starts laughing. She can’t fully process what her nerves are telling her, but your words ring out in her head. “What— what do you mean you don’t mind it?”
“Yeah, I don’t… I don’t think it’s weird.”
“B-but, I got a boner, looking at you,” she says. “I’m a girl. With a dick. And… fuck… I guess I couldn’t contain myself when I saw you,” she laughs. “I—I tried to hide it. I didn’t want to ruin this. You’re just—really handsome and… caring and sweet, and funny. Kind.”
“It’s okay, Kazuha, calm down, I’m not grossed out or anything.”
Kazuha looks at you incredulously.
You come down from the couch and sit on the floor in front of her. The wood underneath you feels cool but not cold; either way, it didn’t matter, as Kazuha was your focus right now. You scoot closer to her, but leave her enough space so she doesn’t feel uncomfortable.
You quickly try to think of something, but can’t think of anything, and say the first thing that comes out. “A-as a matter of fact, I like you. As a girl. Yeah. I had a crush on you, and this thing that you have doesn’t change anything.”
“I—I don’t understand. Why?”
“It’s just a penis,” you say and sigh. You raise your shoulders and give her a sheepish smile. “I don’t mind it. And it… You got hard because of me, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Kazuha whispers, looking down. Her shame settled down and was now replaced with embarrassment as you remind her of her earlier boner. “Thank you.”
You both quiet down and continue to stare at the floor. Then you tentatively attempt, “Can I… see it?”
“You wanna see it?” she asks, bewildered. Kazuha laughs nervously, covering her mouth. “Was the boner not enough?”
“Can I?”
Kazuha thinks for a moment before looking at you with resolution. “Fine, on one condition, though. I wanna see yours too.”
“That’s fair,” you agree and scoot closer to her.
Your hands come down to your pants, they grab the waistbands and stop. You look up and see Kazuha in the same position, with her hands on the laces, muscles frozen. You stare at each other and laugh.
Both Kazuha were tense. It only made sense. You take a deep breath and give her a good look.
“Do you really wanna do this?” Kazuha asks.
“Yeah, I do,” you answer, and she nods happily. The realization of what’s about to happen gradually sets in, and the blood starts to flow lower down in your body. You can feel your penis start to grow under your pants and sigh in relief. You really don’t want to show her your soft version.
Your hands come down once more, and this time you pull both your pants and underwear down, letting your penis spring free. Raising your eyes, you’re left speechless at the sight of Kazuha’s cock.
Sure, she did warn you she had one, but you didn’t think you’d see it for real.
It wasn’t small.
It might have been about the same size as yours. You notice the way her head is swollen, leaning slightly to the left. It’s veiny and thick. It’s beautiful.
Kazuha sits there with both of her hands covering her face. You reach out and gently peel them off her, revealing her slightly red cheeks. She’s blushing so much that you wonder how there’s any blood left to keep her penis hard.
“It’s cute,” you say.
“You think so?”
“Yeah, I do,” you chuckle.
“I—I like yours too.”
Your hand cups her cheek and brushes it with your thumb. You offer her a comforting smile, and Kazuha seems to calm down. Her heart is beating faster than ever. She’s showing her biggest secret to the most important person in her life. She had imagined countless scenarios before, but none of them were anywhere close to this one.
“It’s shaved,” you say, observing her perfectly smooth member.
“Yeah, I thought it would make it more… feminine.”
“It’s very pretty,” you chuckle.
Kazuha is happy.
She smiles shyly while her eyes keep darting up and down between your rock-hard penis and your face.
“Can I kiss you?” you ask, and Kazuha doesn’t hesitate.
Her hand comes behind your neck and pulls you in. It starts with a simple pick, pressed firmly against your lips. The adrenaline rushes to her head, and she realizes that it won’t be enough. A small whine escapes from her throat as you pull away, and she pulls you back for a longer kiss.
She feels all of you on her lips, but it’s not enough. Suddenly, she can’t even hold herself upright as she wants to pull you impossibly closer.
Each time you try to pull away for air, she lets out a high-pitched noise, almost offended at your movement and continues to kiss the side of your face. There’s not a single moment where her lips are detached from your face.
The kiss becomes wetter and more desperate, both of you becoming more frantic. Her nose bumps harshly against yours as you both tilt your heads from one side and then to the other.
Kazuha makes the softest and cutest noises when your hands climb down from her shoulders to her waist. You feel around the thin skins covering her hard abdomen. Your thumb trail the lines of her obliques and the groove between her abs.
You can feel your member becoming even harder. You had been dreaming of her abs day and night and now they were right between your fingers.
Kazuha is already whimpering for you, her hips twitching uncontrollably and her cock aching with desperation, leaking precum from her tip.
You leave her only a small warning, “I’ll touch you now, Zuha,” and finally slide your hand down to her penis.
Kazuha starts to fall apart. You circle your thumb over the tip, wrapping the rest of your fingers around her thick length. You want to take it slow, tease her properly. You gather the precum and spread it around to make her slicker between your hands.
She wants to see what you’re doing to her. She wants to know why she’s trembling so hard, why her mind is becoming so dazed, but you stop her from looking down and kiss her again.
Your hand wraps her whole cock now, tightening your grip as you start jerking her off. Gosh, her skin is so hot, she could almost melt your hand off.
“F-fuck, please…” she whines. “Can I touch you, too? Please?”
“Go ahead,” you say.
Kazuha wraps her delicate fingers around your throbbing penis. She starts to stroke you slowly, and you respond by dragging your palm over the head of her needy cock. Kazuha is a mess for you, whiny and pathetic.
She keeps twitching up into your hand and can’t no longer focus on your penis. It’s fine, you don’t mind. You just squeeze her tighter and stroke her faster.
“I—I’m gonna cum,” she gasps, her thighs shaking, and her abs flexing hard. She greets her teeth and finally cums. Thick and messy spurts come all over your hands as she keeps moeaning your name.
You slow down your hand and accompany her orgasm through it.
Kazuha is almost sobbing, as the climax washes over her. She’s so pretty, so cute, so ruined. “You… you, sorry, I… I made a mess,” she breaths.
“Don’t worry,” you say. “It’s exactly what I wanted.”
You stare at your hands covered with her cum. It looks familiar, but at the same time, you know it wasn’t yours. Then, you raise it closer to your face.
“Wait—don’t do it—” Kazuha starts, but it’s too late.
You start licking her cum off your palm. Her semen is sweet and sour, slightly fruity with a hint of bitterness. It doesn’t have a very pronounced taste, and there’s hardly any smell. What strikes you the most it’s the texture: slimy, almost like egg whites.
But it turns you on so much, knowing it is Kazuha’s. You don’t break eye contact until you have completely cleaned your hand, and Kazuha is left a blushing mess.
“Do you believe me now?” you say.
“I do but… You really didn’t have to do that,” she replies. Kazuha is speechless and overwhelmed, but she’s so so so happy. Her hand instinctively covers her face, trying to hide the biggest grin that’s plastered on her mouth. It’s the first time she has ever felt somebody else’s hands on her, and the fact that it is sending her to the moon.
“Hey, but…” Kazuha starts, breathing heavily, “You haven’t cum yet.”
Kazuha grabs your hand and gets closer to your face. “It’s okay if you aren’t into it, but would you want to fuck me? In the ass?”
You gulp. “Yeah.”
Both of you get up from the floor and go to the couch, which is the closest surface to you. Kazuha quickly takes her shirt off, and you’re left staring at her small breasts.
She feels a bit self-conscious under your intense gaze and covers herself. “What, is it weird?”
“No, you’re beautiful, Kazuha,” you say quickly before pushing her on the couch. She lets out a surprised yelp as your lips seal around her hardened nipple. You softly suck one breast while your hand comes to fondle the other one.
Kazuha moans as you greedily taste her skin. Her hands come behind your head as she carefully brushes your hair. You give the same attention to Kazuha’s other breast, flicking and swirling your tongue around her areolae. All the while, your hands roam around her body, stroking and caressing every line and curve.
You don’t want to get too lost in her body, though you could have continued for hours. You both know what you want.
“Kazuha, can you turn around on your knees?” you ask her softly.
She nods and, with shaky legs, carefully gets onto the couch, with her knees on the cushion and her hands on the backrest, glancing back at you over her shoulder with a nervous smile. She gives her hips a slight wiggle, showing you her toned underside.
"Uhm, do you like it?" she asks shyly. She reaches back and spreads her cheeks apart, revealing the tight entrance of her asshole nestled between them. It winks and twitches slightly in the cool air.
“Of course I do,” you say.
You kneel behind Kazuha's raised hips, your face now level with her ass. The sight of her tight, pink asshole winking at you, framed by her soft cheeks, makes your mouth water with anticipation. You lean in closer, inhaling deeply to take in the heady, musky scent that clings to her skin.
Starting at the base of her spine, you press your lips against her back, trailing a path of kisses down each side of her ass and then to the top of her crack. Kazuha shudders and gasps at the unfamiliar sensation, her body already so sensitive and responsive after cumming so hard.
Reaching the top of her crevice, you pause for a moment, looking up at Kazuha to gauge her reaction. She looks back at you, her eyes filled with nothing but lust.
You press your face between her cheeks, your nose and mouth comfortably settled in her ass. You extend your tongue and slowly glide it up the length of Kazuha's asshole, starting from the bottom, teasing her balls and making your way to the top.
She gasps and jerks at the initial touch of your tongue. It’s wet, it’s warm—it’s a new feeling. Her fingers dig into the couch. You can taste the saltiness of her skin and sweat, and the distinct, musky flavor that is unmistakably Kazuha.
You keep licking her ass, lapping around her ridged circle while your hands softly massage her cheeks. Kazuha keeps moaning, letting her head fall to the couch and only focusing on the feeling of you rimming her. Occasionally, your hand comes down to her soft cock, giving it a few gentle strokes.
“I have some lube in my bag,” Kazuha says suddenly.
You stop and stare at her. “Oh? Why do you have lube? Were you hoping for this to happen?”
“Well, I… I always hoped, but I didn’t think it would actually lead to this,” Kazuha murmurs. Her cheeks are flushed again. She blushes so easily, it’s adorable.
“You’re such a slut,” you say as you reach down to the beg. Kazuha can only groan, but she doesn’t object you; she knows you’re right.
After grabbing the bottle of lube, you pour a generous amount onto your fingers. You toss it aside and look back at Kazuha's ass, glistening with your saliva and twitching with anticipation.
Kazuha gasped as she felt your fingers touch her tightly clenched hole, a shiver running down her spine. You took your time, circling the entrance with a gentle, massaging pressure until you could feel it begin to relax.
Her cock is already back in shape. As you work a single finger slowly into Kazuha's ass, you use your other hand, coated in lube, to wrap around Kazuha's throbbing girlcock, stroking it in time with the deliberate thrusts of your finger. Kazuha let out a strangled moan, her hips bucking involuntarily into your touch.
"Ohhh!" Kazuha gasped, her voice high and breathy. "That feels...ahhh...so good!" Her asshole clenched and fluttered around the invading finger, trying to draw it deeper into her.
You don’t feel a lot of resistance and add a second finger, to which Kazuha responds with even louder moans.
“You’ve been playing with your ass a lot, didn’t you?” you ask her.
“I… I wanted to feel like a girl,” she says shyly. "I do play with my penis too, but you know..."
“Did you think about me when you played with yourself?”
“All the time,” she whines, her eyes fluttering shut while you wiggle your fingers inside of her rectum.
“You’re so cute,” you say, and she groans.
Unable to hold back any longer, you grab Kazuha's hips firmly, your fingers sinking into the sides of her ass. You align the swollen tip of your throbbing cock against her tight entrance. You can feel it fluttering and clenching under your touch, already wet with all the lube.
You still pour a good amount of lube onto your cock and work it in, just to be sure.
Kazuha glances back at you with her feverish eyes, her breath caught in her throat as she prepares to feel you inside. She gives a small nod, and you proceed.
With your hands firmly placed on her hips, you slowly push forward, feeling your cock head pop past the tight ring of muscle guarding Kazuha's most intimate entrance. She cries out, a mix of pain and pleasure escaping her throat as she feels you stretching her hole around your thick, hard cock.
You pause for a moment when your length had disappeared completely into her, letting Kazuha adjust to the intense sensation. Her penis keeps twitching and leaking under her, empathetic with the neighboring pleasure.
Sensing her need, you pull back and begin to push forward again, inch by inch, your cock sinking deeper into the tight, gripping heat of Kazuha's ass. She whimpers and moans, her fingers clawing at the sheets beneath her as she feels you claiming her, filling her, stretching her.
You keep savoring her ass, letting come out and back inside. With your cock buried deep in her passage, she releases a feral moan. Her body shudders and quakes, overwhelmed by the sheer size and girth of you inside her.
You take a moment to simply get in the feeling of her silken walls gripping your cock, the way her body molds to the shape of your penis. You can feel her heart pounding, her breath coming in sharp, as she adjusts to the intense sensation of being so completely filled.
“Does it hurt?” you ask her.
Kazuha shakes her head. “No, it feels so good.”
“You’re doing so well,” you tell her, “good girl.”
At those words, you feel her tightening around you. That’s what she wanted to hear—she was a girl, your girl.
Kazuha needily pushes back to you, desperately asking you start fucking her. You oblige and build up a steady, rhythm, your hips rocking back and forth as you fuck Kazuha's tight ass. Each thrust drives your thick cock deeper into her, stretching her walls to accommodate your shape.
The obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the room, mingling with Kazuha's desperate moans and whimpers, and her wet ass’ squelching sounds.
“Your ass feels so good, Kazuha!”
“Fuck you’re stretching me so good!”
You want to make her feel even better. You want to break her entrance and make her cum.
Your hips rock her harder, fucking her hard and fast, pushing her head into the backrest. Kazuha’s moans turn into cries.
Her walls suck you in greedily, each fold and groove in her rectum wrapping you so well. You could already feel that you were getting closer, you didn’t cum yet afterall.
You reach out to stroke Kazuha's throbbing girlcock in time with your deep, claiming thrusts into his ass, but that seems to send her too close to the edge.
Kazuha suddenly gasps out a desperate plea. "Wait! I...I want to feel you on top of me. I want to see your face when I...when we..." She trailed off, gazing back at you over her shoulder.
You pause, your hips still buried deep in Kazuha's heat. You could feel the way her muscles flexed and clenched around you, as if trying to hold her inside him.
It takes every ounce of willpower and effort to pull out but you want to make her happy. Your cock slips out of Kazuha's stretched hole with a gush of her fluids and lube combined.
Kazuha lets out a small whimper at the loss, her body feeling suddenly empty and aching for your touch.
She flips over onto her back, and Kazuha finds herself staring up at you, her chest heaving and her face red with passion.
You position yourself between her spread thighs, your hips locking against her own as you lean down to capture his lips in a soft kiss.
Kazuha moans into your mouth, her hands coming up to grip your shoulders, fingernails digging into her skin.
Breaking the kiss, you sit back and guide your erection back into Kazuha's twitching hole. You rub the swollen head teasingly along her asshole before slowly sinking into her rectum, penetrating Kazuha with all your might.
"Ohhh, fuck, it’s so good," Kazuha gasped as she felt you filling her up once more, your cock spreading her open and reaching even deeper than before thanks to the new position.
“I know I can’t…” she pants. “But please breed me. Cum into me, please.”
You start to move, rolling your hips in a slow, sensual grind that has Kazuha seeing stars.
Motivated by her words, you pick up the pace of your thrusts. You could feel your climax building rapidly as you pistoned into Kazuha. Her cockdrunk expression and her lovely eyes push you closer to the edge.
With a final, deep thrust, you bury yourself to the hilt inside her and grit your teeth as her orgasm crashes over her, clenching you unbelievably tight.
"Kazuha! I'm...I'm coming!" you cry out. Your cock jerks and throbs inside Kazuha as you flood her insides with your hot, thick seed.
Kazuha lets out a scream of ecstasy, her back arching off the bed as she feels you pouring inside of her.
"Yes, yes, YES!" Kazuha shouts, her girlcock erupting and sending thick ropes of cum splattering across his stomach. Her ass clenches and spasms around your throbbing shaft, milking you for every last drop.
You stay locked together like that, collapsing on top of Kazuha, both of you panting and trembling. Kazuha could feel your heart racing against her own chest.
"Thank you," Kazuha whispered, reaching up to cup your face tenderly. "For taking me… I love you."
You smile softly, turning your head to press a gentle kiss to Kazuha's palm. "I love you too," you murmur. "It felt incredible."
Feeling the adrenaline leaving your body, so does your strength, and you fall back beside her on the couch that was now a complete mess. You can still see your cum slowly dripping out of her gaping asshole down to the cushions.
Your lungs are burning, you gave your everything to properly pleasure her, and there’s nothing left in your muscles: you’re completely spent. So is Kazuha, who’s already starting to fall asleep.
You take a deep breath and turn your head towards her. “So… uhm, do you want to be my girlfriend?”
Kazuha blinks and takes a second to register your words. Then her expression melts into the brightest smile. “Yeah,” she says, nodding quickly, “yeah, I do.”
Something loosens inside you, and you can’t help smiling back. “Then… I’ll be your boyfriend.”
Kazuha sits up, grabs your face, and kisses you warmly.
“Please say it again,” she murmurs, her forehead resting lightly against yours.
“I’ll be your boyfriend.”
She bites back a grin. “Again.”
You laugh under your breath. “I’m your boyfriend, Kazuha.”
“And, I’m…?”
“You’re my girlfriend.”
She makes a small, joyful sound and kisses you again, this time letting her lips press on you for a little longer. When she pulls back, she has the widest grin. “I love you!”
