I grinned, leaning closer. "That's your revenge. Not hiding from a name. Making them choke on it."
Her breath hitched. For a moment, her eyes flickered—rage, hope, fear. Then she scoffed, swiping roughly at her cheeks. "Since when are you a motivational speaker?"
"Since now." I smirked. "Got a problem with it?"
She shoved me weakly. "Yes. You're terrible at it." But her hand lingered on my arm, trembling. "What if… it's too late?"
I stepped closer, crowding her space. "Too late? You rebuild a rusted Ferris wheel with a YouTube video and duct tape. You're the queen of 'too late.'"
A laugh burst out of her—raw, surprised. "Duct tape? I used industrial bolts, you idiot."
"Same difference." I brushed stray hair from her face. "Point is, you win by living. By making that name yours. Soo-Min, Isabella—doesn't matter. What matters is they look at your park, your life, and choke on their regrets."
She went still, gaze locking on mine. "You really believe that?"
"I believe you."
Her shoulders relaxed, the fight draining out of her. A small, genuine smile tugged at her lips. "Thanks… jerk. Didn't know you could be less terrible."
I arched a brow. "I'll take that as a compliment. Now—where's my reward?"
"Reward?" She rolled her eyes. "For what? Not being a total disaster?"
"For making you laugh. And not stabbing me." I stepped closer, voice dropping. "I want something no one else gets."
Her breath caught, cheeks flushing. She glanced at my lips, then back to my eyes. "You're such a—"
I leaned in, stopping just short of her mouth. "Say no, and I walk."
She hesitated, then gripped my collar, yanking me down. "Shut up."
The kiss wasn't fiery or desperate—it was soft. Slow. Her lips trembled at first, then steadied, pressing against mine with quiet certainty. Her hands slid from my collar to my jaw, anchoring me there as the Ferris wheel's lights blinked behind her like approval.
When she pulled back, her smirk was back. "There. Happy?"
"Nope." I brushed my nose against hers. "But it's a start."
She shoved me, laughing. "You're insatiable."
"And you're stuck with me."
Her laughter faded as she held my gaze, mischief sparking in her eyes. Slowly, deliberately, her fingers trailed to the zipper at the back of her sleek midnight blue dress.
The fabric clung to her curves like a second skin, the deep neckline teasing as she tugged the zipper down.
The dress pooled at her feet, revealing toned legs from the slit that had hinted at her strength all night, now fully exposed under the Ferris wheel's neon glow.
The absence of the dress left her in lingerie that defied every rule of modesty—a strappy masterpiece of black lace and satin. The bodice was a plunging web of delicate straps that criss crossed her torso, framing the swell of her breasts without fully containing them.
Each breath made the lace strain, revealing glimpses of rose-pink nipples beneath the sheer panels.
The waistline dipped scandalously low, secured by a thin silver chain that glinted under the Ferris wheel's neon lights, drawing the eye to the sharp curve of her hips.
Below, the panties were mere scraps of lace, the edges biting into the softness of her thighs. A garter belt clung to her waist, thin straps trailing down to fishnet stockings that encased her toned legs, the pattern interrupted only by a beauty mark high on her inner thigh.
Every strap, every sheer inch, seemed designed to taunt—to highlight what it barely covered.
"Distracting me won't work," I warned, though my hands already found her waist, pulling her closer. My thumb brushed the silver chain, feeling her pulse race beneath it.
She arched into the touch, lips curving. "Who's distracting?" Her nails scraped down my chest as she fumbled with my belt. "Just… returning the favor."
The lingerie wasn't just erotic—it was a weapon. And she wielded it perfectly.
I kissed her harder, swallowing her sharp inhale. My fingers traced the smooth dip of her spine where the dress had hugged her waist moments ago, now bare and warm under my touch.
She arched into me, breath hitching, the curves of her breasts pressing against me as I pinned her gently against the mat.
"Still think this dress was a crime?" she teased, tugging my shirt off entirely.
"Nahh, You in it was," I muttered, nipping her earlobe, grinning at her gasp. The dress had been a distraction all night—how it clung to her hips, emphasized her every movement. Now, without it, she was even more lethal.
She rolled her eyes, but her hands slid into my hair, pulling me down to her neck. "Keep talking, and I'll—"
I kissed her silent, slow and deep, my hands memorizing every shiver, every sigh. The rest of the world blurred—city lights, distant laughter, the hum of her park—until it was just us, skin against skin, the Ferris wheel spinning like a heartbeat behind her.
When she finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, she pressed her forehead to mine. "…Okay. Maybe you're slightly less terrible."
"High praise," I murmured, kissing her again.
I turned her gently, guiding her down onto the soft wool blanket spread beneath the stars. Her back met the fabric, her skin warm against the night-chilled air.
My lips trailed from her forehead—a lingering kiss there—down the slope of her nose, the stubborn corner of her smirk, the frantic pulse at her throat.
She arched into me, fingers tangling in my hair as I nipped the hollow above her collarbone.
"C-cold," she gasped, though her grip tightened, pulling me closer.
"Complaining already?" I murmured against her skin, my hand sliding beneath her to bunch the blanket under her hips, lifting her closer.
The stars blurred above us, drowned out by the heat of her breath, the hitch in her voice as I traced the lace edge of her lingerie with my teeth.
She laughed, breathless, kicking off one high heel. "You're ruining the picnic."
"Picnic's over darling." I hooked a finger into the strap of her garter belt, snapping it lightly against her thigh. "What's happening now? This is my reward for pleasing the woman in front of me."
Her retort dissolved into a moan as I claimed her mouth again, the blanket scratching faintly against her bare shoulders,
"Mine," I murmured against her skin, the word a low growl.
Her breath hitched. "C-Cocky."
I didn't argue. My mouth closed over the lace edge of her bra, teeth tugging the strap down until her breast spilled free.
Her nipple pebbled under my tongue, and she arched off the mat with a cry, back curving like a bowstring. "Fuck—!"
I sucked harder, swirling my tongue until her moans turned ragged, her hips grinding helplessly against my thigh. My hand slid down her stomach, tracing the silver chain at her hips before slipping beneath the flimsy lace of her panties. She jerked, legs falling open instinctively.
"Not yet," I warned, withdrawing my hand to drag my lips lower.
Her protest died in a whimper as I kissed a path down her quivering stomach, tongue dipping into her navel, teeth grazing the softness of her hips. Her breaths shaky as I hooked my thumbs into her panties, dragging them down her thighs.
"Look at you," I muttered, spreading her legs wider. "Perfect fucking ruin."
Her cheeks flushed crimson, but she didn't look away. "Y-You talk too much—"
I silenced her with a searing kiss to her inner thigh, teeth marking the tender skin. She shuddered, heels digging into my back as I worked higher, slower, until my breath ghosted over her wetness.
"Soo-Min," I growled, the name a challenge.
Her hips bucked. "Don't—ah!"
I licked a slow stripe up her slit, savoring her gasp. Her thighs trembled, trying to clamp around my head, but I held them open, relentless.
Every flick of my tongue, every suck on her clit, was a claim—a reminder. Her fingers fisted my hair, pulling hard enough to sting, but I didn't stop. Not until her back arched off the mat, a broken scream tearing from her throat as she came.
I rose, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "Still think I talk too much?"
She dragged me down by the collar, kissing me fiercely, the taste of herself on my lips. "Yes," she breathed against my mouth. "But… don't stop."
Her chest heaved, lips swollen from biting back noises. I hovered over her, thumb brushing her damp lower lip. "How's it feeling, Soo-Min." I murmured, "coming just from my tongue? Honest answer."
She turned her face away, breath hitching. "Isabella," she snapped weakly, sweat gleaming on her throat. "Call me—"
I pinched her chin, forcing her eyes on me. "Soo-Min." My thumb pressed into her bottom lip, parting them. "You want more? Spread yourself.
Say it. Unless I hear you speak your real name, I won't continue. As for the name you chose for yourself…" I leaned closer, watching her breath hitch. "We'll give that name to our daughter when we have her."
A scorching blush flooded her cheeks, painting her skin crimson from the hollow of her throat to the tips of her ears.
She jerked her face sideways, breaking eye contact, but my grip held her steady—exposing the way her lashes fluttered, the tremor in her jaw.
Her defiance crumbled into a whimper, legs shifting as if she could hide the truth her body screamed. Knees trembled; fingers crept downward.
"Hate you," she choked, voice fraying, but her hands obeyed, shaking as she exposed herself—pink, glistening, clit throbbing.
Even as she cursed me, the heat radiating from her skin betrayed her. Her parted lips quivered, not with anger, but with the unspoken admission that my words had carved deeper than either of us expected.
"Louder." I didn't touch her, watching her squirm. "Say it right."
Her hips jerked upward, desperate. "P-Please…" Tears welled but didn't fall, pride warring with need. "Fuck… Soo-Min's… Virgin pussy. Master." The last word hissed through clenched teeth.
I smirked, gripping her hips. "Virgin pussy shouldn't be this greedy."
"It's—ah!—y-you," she gasped, back arching as I thrust two fingers inside, her walls clamping down. "Only you—! Her hands scrabbled at the mat, voice breaking. "T-Touch… please…!"
"Yours?" I crooked my fingers, slow.
She sobbed, nodding wildly. "Yours! Yours!"
I shoved deeper, palm grinding against her clit. "Then scream my name when you break."
Her nails drew blood down my arm, body bowing as she shattered—raw, unfiltered, mine.
Her thighs trembled around my wrist, slick heat coating my fingers as I withdrew slowly—only to plunge back in with a sharp twist of my palm.
"Virgin pussy doesn't drip like this," I growled, curling my fingertips upward in a merciless come-hither rhythm, striking the swollen ridge of her G-spot with every thrust. "Tell me why it's so wet."
"B-Because—nngh!—you're—stretching—" Soo-Min's words dissolved into a choked whine as I added pressure to her clit with the heel of my hand, my thumb circling the stiffened bud in tight, erratic patterns.
Her back arched off the mat, breasts heaving, nipples pebbled and flushed under my raking gaze.
"Wrong." I pinched her left nipple hard, rolling the abused peak between my knuckles until she yelped. "Try again."
"Ah-ahn! B-Because I want—!" Her protest broke as I scissored my fingers wide inside her, stretching her walls, the obscene slick of her arousal loud in the humid air. "Want you to—to ruin it—!"
"Better." My free hand palmed her other breast, teeth grazing her collarbone as I quickened the punishing rhythm against her G-spot. "But your cunt's still lying."
I dragged my tongue up her throat, biting the hinge of her jaw when she tried to writhe away. "Virgin holes don't pulse—" thrust "—don't suck—" curl "—like they're starving—"
Her scream tore through the night sky as I hooked my fingers deeper, thumb mashing her clit in rough circles. "I'm not—hyung, please—!"
The honorific ripped from her raw—half sob, half snarl—as her hips pistoned wildly. "N-Not lying! Feels—feels too—ah!—too much—!"
I laughed against her sweat-slick neck, drinking her unraveling. "You'll take more." My palm ground down on her clit as I crooked my fingers just so—the spot that made her vision white out last time. "Scream when it hits. Now."
Her body snapped taut, a live wire thrashing under my grip. "S-Samuel—!" She choked on my name, walls clamping in rhythmic spasms around my fingers, juices flooding my wrist.
I didn't relent—pounding her oversensitive G-spot through the convulsions, thumb circling her clit faster as her cries climbed hysterically.
"M-Master—s'too—!" Her nails shredded the mat beneath her, tears finally spilling as her hips bucked helplessly. "S-Stop—!"
"Liar." I seized her jaw, forcing her to meet my stare as her cunt milked my hand. "You'd die if I stopped." To prove it, I stilled completely—fingers buried to the knuckle, thumb resting just shy of her throbbing clit.
The raw, devastated keen she made—chest heaving, thighs shaking—was better than any scream.
"Please…" Her whisper cracked, pride incinerated in the aftershocks. "Need…"
I kissed her, brutal and claiming, as I resumed the assault—deeper, harder, meaner—until her second climax ripped through her without warning, her shriek swallowed by my mouth as she shattered.
A/N: If my story brought even a hint of a smile to your face, drop a comment—I'd love to hear it! Knowing I brightened someone's day fuels my creativity! My only goal is to make people smile and find happiness in this dull world. Not to mention I want to reach Oda sensei's level of storytelling.
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