Blossom

male reader x lesserafim Sakura

Tags: smut, angst, idolxmanager, struggles, car sex, squirting

10k words

Part of Wings, were made to fly

Who said hard work ever amounted to anything?

The day seems so gloomy. Like God himself decided to take all the grey in his colour palette and splash it into the sky. And there’s this small girl, a person who feels so out of place, lifeblood seeping out of a wound that just won’t close.

And you’re watching.

You always have been. Miyawaki Sakura, your model of hard work and unending effort, looking so ruined, so defeated, so broken. A look that hurts you, that puts this pressure under your eyes, this welling up of something that can’t go.

It’s not her fault, you try to reason. These people are evil. Breaking her down for all her flaws rather than seeing how far she’s come. You’ve watched her grow so much, from being just another pretty girl to a pretty girl that can dance, that can learn, that knows how to stand on stage and brave the storms.

But hard work couldn’t prevent this.

The space around her seems so empty. The way she’s seated there, resting her back on a chair against the white wall of the dressing room, legs crossed with the illusion of calmness. But her eyes give it all away. Those eyes that have always been her most startling feature, the eyes that widen in wonder and joy, that have always been shining even in dark void.

Now they’re wide for all the wrong reasons. Her Achilles heel, betraying her pain and sadness and saying: no, she’s not bulletproof, no, she’s not fearless.

And it should be okay.

And it’s not like she’s alone. Yunjin’s standing there, eyes welled up with tears, cursing all the people online who don’t know any better. Chaewon, who’s known her the longest, by her side, arms on her shoulder and telling her that it’s all exaggerated, that she’s not what everyone else is saying she is, trying her best to be the leader she’s supposed to be.

But everything’s rebounding off Sakura’s body uselessly. Nothing’s sticking, going deeper than the surface, sinking in, so it’s just her sinking, deeper under the weight of it all.

You watch it all.

Eventually she manages to muster up enough breath to shake her members away, lying that she’s fine, that they should be getting ready to leave, wipes her reddened eyes and fallen tears and wills herself to ignore the pain.

Ignore. She doesn’t get rid of the knives in her gut.

When things get calmer, when the girls get swept back up in the present and the need to pack up, for a few moments it really is just you and Sakura in that waiting room, your gaze still very attentively watching her every moment, the thoughts running through her head at every second.

You want to say something. Anything, as long as it matters.

You take a few silent steps over, absentmindedly reaching for one of the bottled waters lying on the makeup table.

“Sakura,” you say, drawing her attention, letting her peek her head out of her self-depreciating bubble for just a moment.

“It’s okay,” you start, then wince at how ad nauseam it is. You offer her the bottle of water while you figure out a sentence with more substance.

“Words are just words. People will do malicious things. Just ignore them and continue to improve,” you say as she weakly accepts the bottle.

“There are plenty of people still supporting and believing in you. We know you’ll come back stronger.”

And Sakura nods slowly, pretending like she’s heard what you’ve said. You want to tell her that you’re one of the people rooting hard for her.

“Thanks, manager-nim,” Sakura says politely, that rehearsed reply you’ve heard a million times before.

Yeah, it didn’t work. And you feel foolish for trying. You shake your head, trying to clear it.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” you excuse yourself, leaving her, but not for good.

You’ll try again another day. Until it works. Till she’s okay again.

Sakura watches you leave emptily, grateful that at least you could tell she wanted to be left alone. She’s sick of hearing all the words that pretend to do something, to mean anything.

She reaches for the cap of the water bottle, preparing to twist it open. But something startles her, and for a moment she’s distracted. Looks down at the bottle in her hands.

The cap’s seal has already been broken.

_

“We need to address Sakura’s vocals.”

Your ears perk up at this sentence from your boss. That name has been practically taboo the past few days.

He shifts awkwardly in his seat at the end of the round table. He’s some higher-up that oversees your team of managers. It’s ironic, because he likely doesn’t know shit.

“The company is suggesting additional vocal lessons for her. Every day. In the evening.”

You tap the meeting room desk gently. You expected as much.

“We’ll need a manager to drive her back from the company to the dorm and ensure her safety. Which means I need a volunteer.”

The group of managers around you shift slightly in their seats. No one likes extra work.

“Unfortunately, that does mean you’ll have to stay back later than everyone else, and of course it won’t be clocked as extra hours.”

Deal-breaker. Everyone seems repulsed by the idea. You can’t blame them. They have their own lives to lead.

“Anyone?” Your boss asks, already expecting a poor response.

You don’t even hesitate.

“I’ll do it,” you raise your hand from the end of the table. Your boss seems surprised.

“Excellent.”

Maybe so. Let’s see if you can really find a way to help her like you want to.

_

The first day’s the toughest. As one of their managers you’ve grown very accustomed to changes in the group’s energy, and they all know exactly what’s going on when you break the news that Sakura has to stay back for extra lessons.

To her credit, Sakura looks determined, nodding like she understands, agrees. Almost hopeful. Ready to put in the work.

Hard work?

_

You sit idly by one of the seats in the vocal practice room, trying to resist the urge to rub your temple. It’s been almost two hours, and you know from experience that Sakura is about to lose her voice.

Sugarcoat it as you might, the session is rough. The vocal trainer tries everything in the book, all the techniques she’s learnt over her years of experience, trying to make magic from a broken instrument.

She rubs her head, sighing frustratedly, thanks Sakura with the last modicum of professionalism she has and walks out the door without looking back.

Sakura doesn’t even move a muscle. Just stands there, watches. Then her eyes land on you.

“Could I have ten more minutes?” She asks, voice quavering.

“Take as long as you need.” You’ve been watching her all this time, you’ll watch her for as long as she needs.

The drive back to the dorm is deathly silent.

It’s seriously off-putting. Like you’re driving a corpse in your back seat and not a living person. Sakura’s been staring out the window the whole ride, her eyes blank and unfocused. You feel like you should say something, but there isn’t much to say.

And maybe you’re hearing things. But it sounds like she’s constantly trying to make a sound, make something beautiful come out of that voice of hers, but always falling short. You’d be surprised if she could even utter a word. She spent an additional hour in that room, trying again and again to use her voice like everyone else says she can.

The light in front of you is red. You slow the car down gently to a stop, like the car itself would break if you treated it too roughly. Like you’re carrying a princess in your back seat.

“Sakura,” you say with courage you’ve finally gathered. What should you say?

“It’s… it’s okay to cry.”

Sakura stares at you for a moment, something you see through the rear view mirror. She doesn’t reply, just looks away. Back out the window.

The light turns green. Your eyes return to the road ahead.

And a few minutes later, Sakura breaks down and cries. Raw. Pained. Distressed. It comes out choked and forced, and it’s horrible. You want to to find a way to will it to stop, but she just keeps breaking, sobbing, blaming everything and everyone and most importantly, herself.

You slow the car down gently again. At this time of night, there’s no one on the streets. You pull back on the handbrake, putting the car into park. You feel like hitting something. Someone responsible for this all. She doesn’t deserve this.

You fish for something in your pocket. A tissue packet, which is something you don’t usually carry around but had an urge to today for some reason. You extend an arm behind, without looking. You don’t want to look.

A small hand reaches for it and pulls it from your grasp. For a minute, there’s a soft rustle as Sakura erases all trace of what happened in the car.

She opens the door. Steps out. You don’t look.

“Good work today,” you say, and you’re sure she heard it.

But she doesn’t reply, just closes the door and walks to the entrance of the dorm, hair bobbing with every step. You watch her till the front door shuts.

_

Day two is a toll on all the girls.

Don’t be mistaken, you care about each and every one of them deeply. So it’s much worse on day two when their dance practice is cut short, and the trainers explain that they’ll be switching to vocals till dinner time.

They do their best to make it sound less blunt. Reason that they’ve all been under scrutiny, and that they all need to improve. It’s not wrong, but that doesn’t mean someone can’t take it harder than all the rest.

And like you said, the group has an energy, an energy that relies extremely heavily on that of everyone else’s, which means the couple run throughs of their title track are rough.

Even Yunjin’s voice, clear as a siren any other day, falters. Eunchae has a stony expression you swear you’ve never seen on her face. It’s like the gloomy sky has seeped into the practice room.

The vocal trainers don’t say anything. Just give advice in the nicest way possible, areas to improve, what they should be hitting. They jot notes down on their little notepads, and you know those comments can never be seen by the members themselves.

Sakura is blank today. A complete absence. Like a ghost. Lost her confidence after the first run, and is now just going through the motions, no longer present.

The vocal trainers clap for one more attempt, trying to inject some life into this soulless quintet. For some reason you can’t understand, you’re the only one that steps up and waves a hand in objection.

“Sorry, but could you give them a water break? They’ve been singing for fifteen minutes.”

There’s a quizzical look from all the trainers and managers in the room. You try to communicate something to the vocal trainers with the intention behind your eyes, and it seems one of them gets it, because she nods and agrees, saying it’s a good idea.

The girls walk quickly to their bottles, like being in the middle of the room scares them. You walk over to them, making sure they’re okay.

“Thank you, manager-nim,” Yunjin says as you’re about to pass her. She sips on her water cutely, and you raise both arms to encourage her.

“Hwaiting. You know you got this.”

Yunjin raises a fist in return, cracking a smile, and you let out a breath of relief. There’s hope yet.

And you cross over to Sakura, whispering encouragements to all the girls, till finally you’re in front of her, this tragic thing still staring at her bottle like it’ll give her an answer.

“Ganbatte, Sakura,” you whisper softly, enough to snap her out of her reverie. She turns to glance at you.

“You can do this. Maybe not now, not today, but you will.”

Sakura’s eyes lock onto yours, and for just a moment the light you saw in them the first time you met her, the first time she listened to their debut song, the first time she watched their mv, just for a moment…

They return back to the dance floor, ready to move on. Thank the gods. They’ll survive.

“I’m the one, that, you need.”

You glance up from your stupor. Shake your head. Wait. That was pretty okay. You glance to your right, where Sakura’s eyes are still burning into the lyric paper in front of her, trying that same line, over and over again.

Jesus, how long has it been since the trainer’s left? You glance down to your watch.

“Oh gods. Sakura, we should go. It’s almost one-thirty. You’ve been going at it for two and a half hours.”

Sakura finally looks up from her paper, and in doing so there’s an energy that seems to have lifted from her shoulders.

She turns to you, and you can see the exhaustion in her eyes. My god, she’s been trying so hard.

“Let’s go,” she agrees, her voice hoarse.

You make sure to switch off all the lights for her. But you make a mistake on the drive back.

See, you thought maybe you’d lighten the mood. Play a little bit of music, distract the both of you from the dead silence and the suffocation of negative thoughts. For a moment you’re almost vibing. The Le Sserafim tracks come on, and you’re wondering, what the hell are all these haters yapping about? Sakura sounds great on the track.

And then Sakura tries the notes, right there in the back seat of your car. She tries singing them, even the lines that aren’t hers. And her voice falters. Because there’s struggle. It doesn’t sound like her. And that voice softens, loses its strength, and then she stops. And she’s looking out the window, and you hurriedly turn the music off.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, your whole body shaking with tension.

“It’s okay,” Sakura replies, before putting her head in her hands. You’re not sure what to do.

“Do you want to cry again?” You ask.

“I’m tired of crying. I’m so tired of it.”

A pause. You feel horrible. Guilty.

“Then don’t. Cry tomorrow, when you feel like crying.”

The car hums to a stop. Reached. Again.

“If it’s any consolation,” you begin, “I thought you were much better today. I think you’re improving.”

Sakura nods, finally looking up, eyes red. She glances out the window, then finally seems to realise where she is, reaching for the door handle.

You watch as she steps out, same as yesterday, ready to leave, to retire for the evening. She makes it two steps away from the car door before she stops.

She turns around and walks back. You lower your door screen, looking behind you to see if she forgot something.

“Thank you.”

Your head swivels to Sakura. Bowing, deeply.

“You’re welcome.” You say, feeling fuzzy. Sakura turns and walks away.

“Sakura!” You call just as she’s about to reach the door. She turns to look at you curiously.

“Sleep well. Tomorrow will be a better day.”

_

Day three is different. Because they have a schedule, and a performance at Music Bank.

And the fans are clearly still in heavy favour, because the girls clinch another win, and they’re all happy as they receive their award, forgetting about their troubles and smiling wide, and then their song starts playing.

Encore.

And that sends a shiver through everyone’s spine. Including yours. You gnaw at your lip. The girls pick up their mics and start to sing, and every second is nail-biting. You watch Sakura whenever she’s on screen, and you can see how scared she is.

The comments on their encore come out that evening. The reception is mixed, as always, and the haters are there, as always, but you think that there’s been an improvement, however slight. You can’t stop the girls from viewing the comments, but at least the girls don’t look like they want to rip their voice boxes out of their throats.

Well, almost all of them. You’ve been watching Sakura. And you know how she’s feeling from the slight hunch of her posture, the fact that there’s no light. Where did the light of Sakura go? That bright pink light that bloomed on stage for the first time as a member of Le Sserafim?

That evening Sakura still has to attend her lessons, and once again, she chooses to stay behind, later. You were feeling good, because she actually got a compliment today, a remark that she delivered a line rather well, but it’s weird because it felt like Sakura didn’t even register that she’d been complimented, only that she has more to go.

“Why don’t you try every note again, like she told you?” You suggest to her as she tries, and flubs, her line again.

She’s sat next to you in the couch today, so you can better hear and remark on how her voice sounds. She tries your advice, going through every note, slowly.

“Nuh-uh… not quite. It’s a little higher,” you correct at a particularly iffy note, and she tries again, better this time.

“Yes! Good.”

Sakura nods, going to the next note. And the next.

And then she tries the whole line. And it’s perfect.

“I’m the one, that, you need.”

You freeze, and Sakura does as well. And it’s really unclear whether the two of you realise what just happened. You think you should jump to your feet and cheer. You keep your composure well, though, and you look Sakura in the eyes.

“Let’s go home.”

You’re almost tempted to play their song again. You feel amazing. Like you’ve climbed a mountain. She’s improved. She’s getting better. She can sing. Of course she can. She’s been singing. You’re not the blind, the one that doesn’t see. In fact, it feels like maybe you’re the only one that actually sees.

The hum of the car seems more pleasant now, the slide of the handbrake to park less tense.

“Good night, Sakura, great job today.”

Sakura turns back to look at you, one foot out the door. She seems to almost have a smile on.

“Thank you. Great job today too.”

And just for a moment… just for a moment… that pink light…

_

Day four.

Vocal practices again. You’re not sure how they do it. Feet dancing around dizzyingly, spinning and jumping and twisting, all while maintaining a stable note and a natural smile.

The group does better today. They seem revitalised. Confident. Even Sakura gives it her all, and yeah, we’ve still got a way to go, but we’re a step closer now, aren’t we?

But it’s all just been hard work.

They get criticised that day, and it’s been a while. The trainers point out their errors, and they repeat the same word. Improve.

And Sakura’s vocal trainer seems frustrated today. Improve. Wrong. Bad. Get it right.

You stay with Sakura again once she leaves. She paces the room, tries the notes, tries to hit them like she did yesterday. It doesn’t come. Not like the way it did before. Sakura rubs her throat, other hand on her hip, looking down at the paper in her hands. An expression you don’t recognise, something awful, something you’ve never ever seen on her and something you don’t ever want to see again appears.

And Miyawaki Sakura hurls the paper to the ground.

You jolt in your seat, standing up. Electrocuted.

Sakura stares at the paper on the floor, the one’s she’s written endless notes on, everything that’s come out of the trainer’s mouth, meticulously replicated. You look down at it. A swirl of colours, neat handwriting, key notations. Interjections. She doesn’t miss a detail.

“Let’s go,” she says, storming out of the room. You’re still staring at the paper. You pick it up.

Sakura’s fists are balled in the car. Her eyes are red, and you’ve been watching her the whole time, down the company building, into the company car, and she hasn’t said a word. You’re not sure if she’s about to burst into tears or rip you to pieces.

The car slows. The light ahead is red.

“Why?” Sakura asks suddenly, and you shiver in your seat.

“Sorry?” Your voice is meek.

“Why are you still here?”

“Where is this coming from?” You voice out, more to yourself rather than anything.

“Sakura-”

“I can’t do it. We all know I can’t do it. So why are you still here, acting like I can? Is this fun for you? Do you like watching me suffer?”

“No, of course not, I-”

“Then why!” Sakura slams the seat in front of her, tears spilling out like drawn blood, “Why are you still looking at me like I’ve got a chance? I’ve been lying to my members every night, saying I’ve been improving, I’ve been lying to myself, saying I’ve got this, I can do it, but you and I both know the truth. We know I can’t sing, that I can’t stand on my own, can’t be an idol. We know I’m worthless, so why?”

And it’s at this point where something you don’t recognise comes out of you, something raw, something pained, something that rears its ugly head and something that maybe… has been there all along.

“Because I love you!” You roar, so loud it shakes the car. So loud and angry Sakura recoils in shock, mouth dropping open.

You suck in a breath of air.

“Because you’ve shown me that you can do it all! You’ve shown me that a girl can conquer another country, learn another language, debut in another group, learn how to dance like you’ve been doing it your whole life, and find herself loved by everyone in the world! Because you’ve shown me that hard work can get you anywhere! That you can be already perfect and still strive for something more!”

Silence. Sakura sits back in her seat, stunned, just like that day you saw her broken.

But something sinks in.

“I believe in you! God, it’s clear as day you’re goddamn amazing, you were built for this, and I don’t understand why I’m the only one that sees it!”

The light’s been green for a while. You have a job to do. You set the car to drive and focus on the road, barely even realising the heat that’s been rolling down your cheeks.

“Are you… crying?” Sakura asks, her voice so soft.

You don’t reply, just focus on the road ahead. Keep going. Don’t look back. Don’t look back at her.

Reached. You clear the tear marks from your face. Sakura reaches for the door handle.

Stops. Her voice pierces the silence.

“Thank you. Great work today.”

You look up at her. There’s light, ebbing, faint.

She opens the door, puts one foot out.

“Sakura,” you blurt suddenly, having been ruminating on what you’ve said for the past ten minutes.

She pauses. Waits. Watches you. Expectantly.

“What I said, that was a heat of the moment thing. Don’t take it the wrong way…”

Sakura cocks her head to the side, staring at you curiously.

“Sure,” she says, her mouth opening for one more comment.

“Sleep well. Tomorrow will be a better day.”

And she goes. Leaves. But not permanently.

You can’t help it. You laugh, right there in the car. You just yelled at Le Sserafim’s Sakura. You’re going to get fired.

Oh.

You facepalm. You’re so going to get fired. You told her you loved her. You’re out of your gourd.

Foolishness is pretty too.

_

Day five. Today feels lighter, more focused. Sure, you’re shitting in your pants because you know any time now your boss is going to walk up to you with a guillotine in hand, but today’s a day made for observation.

You’re not sure why you’re observing things so much today, so much more than usual.

First it’s Sakura’s shoes, a bright pair of turquoise blue sneakers, lighter than the usual ones she wears. Then it’s Sakura’s pants, baggy blue denim jeans that make her legs look surprising long. But the real killer is her white tube top, that bares her pretty shoulders and shows that yeah, her hard work has been paying off, evidence on her body. Oh, and you can’t forget about the large jacket she has on either, that somehow makes her small tube top look even smaller, giving her this cute, curvy look that’s distracting as all hell.

I mean, all the girls look like knockouts today, and they knock their vocal practices out of the park.

Okay, maybe that was a little exaggerated. But they still do really well, performing with confidence and delivering good vocals. Sakura dances with a little sparkle in her eyes the whole time, and this time it’s not just personal bias. The trainers tell them they’ve improved, and the girls are all smiles.

And then it’s the evening. And you haven’t spoken to Sakura the whole day, but you’re right there, on them as usual, seated and ready to watch over her. Sakura enters, and to her surprise, her notes are on the table. She walks over, looks down at them, at the creases she made from throwing them, and how they’ve suspiciously been straightened.

She glances at you, but you’re determined to keep your eyes forward.

And you’re happy to announce that personal vocal training takes a positive turn, where the vocal trainer stands up with a sigh of relief, stretches, and says, for the first time, “Good work today. You’ve been improving. Keep it up.”

Sakura bows, returning the kindness, and you do as well, the same way you’ve done before. Now Sakura will take her one hour of personal practice time-

She steps in front of you. You can’t look elsewhere now. So you look up, into her eyes.

“Let’s go,” she tells you, and doesn’t wait for hesitation.

Oh this is weird. You’re sweating bullets. The car ride is silent today, but you swear everyone can hear the beating of your heart. You’re going to get fired. You’re going to get fired. Sakura’s looking out the window with this evil smile. Oh dear.

You reach the dorm in what feels like record time. You set the handlebrake to park.

“Sakura,” you say meekly, “we’re here.”

Sakura turns to face you, looking at you through the rear view mirror.

“Are we?”

You nod rapidly.

She leans forward, humming to herself. “Hmm.”

You wonder what she’s going to say. I’m going to kill you. Are you enjoying your last drive? Your services are no longer required.

Wait what?

“Turn the headlights off.”

“What?”

“Turn them off.”

You turn them off. The car turns dark.

There’s a rustle behind you, and then there’s soft skin on yours, deft fingers cradling your face, Sakura wrapping an arm around your neck.

You look up, at her. Are you being strangled?

“Yesterday. What you said. Did you mean it?”

“What?”

“You said I would take things the wrong way. Was that bullshit?”

Your throat goes dry. “Sorry?”

And sure, she’ll let you play as dumb as you like, as if you didn’t have this coming, as if you don’t have to confront this now. She leans in, bringing her features dangerously close to yours, and all the panic buttons in your head activate. She fries all of your mental hardware, till her lips end up a ghost of a breath away from your ear. You don’t know what you’re thinking, if you’re thinking at all. For a moment you thought she really was going to-

“ Do you love me or not?”

You try to pull away, to get a good look at her. She watches you with a cheeky smile.

“ You do.”

And she leans in again, and this time she doesn’t miss. And you’re the luckiest man alive.

Warm, wet. At first you’re completely stiff, but Sakura’s lips breathe life into yours, and you react, lips parting, letting her direct it, smacking against each other with delicious friction.

You gasp, breath catching in your throat. And you pull her in, reaching for her arm, and she pulls back, clutching your face gently, meeting every passionate kiss. Her lips are impossibly soft, plump and holding onto yours with certitude. Finally she pulls away, and you stare back at her, the way she licks her lips and unwraps you from her embrace.

You blink, and spin to face the front. No, that did not just happen. But the hands return, cradling your face and forcing you to see her, and there’s a barrage of pink light, so bright and so blinding, light that has always been there, that you’ve known has always been there, that’s sparkling and all-consuming.

Sakura pulls you in till you’re staring deep into those eyes.

“Here’s what you’re going to do.”

You listen very closely.

“You’re going to unbuckle your seatbelt. Get out of the car. And come to the back seat. Got that? Go.”

You unbuckle your seatbelt. Get out of the car, slide into the back seat.

Sakura instantly pushes herself up next to you, grabbing your face for another needy kiss. Even her tongue comes out this time, and before long you’re making out, your head swimming and pounding, her fingers like hot metal to the face.

“You should have said something,” Sakura comments once she’s had her fill, “said something earlier. I didn’t notice before, but you’ve been doing everything for me. That stupid bottle. The way you’ve been seated like a watchdog at the side of the practice room, the way you were trying to make yourself heard.”

“How long? Why?” Sakura asks, her index finger tracing your lip. Presented with the perfect opportunities, you take a moment to be honest.

“Ever since you debuted here. I stayed at the company because of you. I was inspired. And you were amazing. I watched you grow. And… I realised that I wanted to get closer.”

Sakura’s gaze darkens.

“I should have known. I should have known. If I wasn’t so preoccupied with this singing shit I would have known. But I do now.”

And she pulls you in again, turning her body into yours, wrapping her arm around your neck and kissing you good.

“Mmm,” you hum, her lips smooth as silk as they rub over yours. She hums back. And then she pulls away, eyes sparkling, teary, and she sweeps a strand of hair back.

“Fuck, I can’t do this,” she says, and she slips her jacket off. She swings a leg over your lap, tries to get on, and for some stupid reason, you bring up logic.

“Sakura, this is a company car.”

“So?” Sakura raises an eyebrow, straddling you with a shift of her hips. “Tell me to get off your lap. I’ll wait.”

You don’t tell her to get off your lap.

“And Sakura sounds way too formal. You can do better than that.”

And she leans in again, kissing you straight this time, leaning into you so you can feel her weight on yours, the way her curves sink into you, this petite little girl who is sexy as all hell throwing herself into your arms. Her hands slip under your shirt, teasing you, and there’s a tremble from your body.

Another suffocating couple of seconds, and she pulls away, resting against the back of the driver’s seat. From this angle it is obscenely clear how well-developed Sakura’s body is, and maybe she sees it too, because with two hands she quickly gets a grip on the upper hem of her top and tugs it down.

And look, you’re a guy, you’ve always noticed that Sakura has a pretty sizeable chest. But the way they pop out, straining against her bra and all, tells you that yeah, they’re even better than you imagined.

This lacy white bra, just so damn pretty and fine-tuned, all the evidence that she clearly has been planning this rather meticulously. And she doesn’t waste any time, doesn’t tease you about what’s to come. Just tells you that her bra’s a hassle, reaches behind and undoes it, and with a bounce, Miyawaki Sakura bares her tits.

And your brain goes: Oh god. Those are her tits.

Round and perky, full with brown nipples, this is a sight people would easily die for. And they’d die for good reason. You’ve yet to see a pair quite this pretty, flawless, complexion like the rest of her. Sakura shakes her chest a little, letting the pale flesh jiggle, and she gives you a look that tells you she’s a little nervous as well, even though she shouldn’t be, because this view is simply unholy.

“You like?”

You nod like a dumb idiot.

“Are you going to just watch them?”

Well, that’s an invitation you’d be mentally insane to reject.

You reach up and cup them, and Sakura giggles at your eagerness, gasping when you squeeze them.

She says something in Japanese, something you can’t translate but get the meaning of anyway. And she kisses you again, all while leaning over you and rushing with the buttons on your shirt.

“Are you sure about this? Here?” You gasp, the softness of her breasts absolutely unmatched.

“We can do it in the living room, in front of all my members, if you’re willing. Regardless, if you’re not going to fuck me after grabbing a hold of my tits, I will actually find a way to kill you.”

Point taken. She undoes your shirt, humming appreciatively as she pulls it off. Then she goes straight for your trousers.

“Look at you, trying to act all high and mighty. You’ve got a massive boner, darling. I think you’d fuck anything at this point.”

“Kkura,” you groan as she finally manages to pull your trousers down, tugging your boxers down to your ankles and grasping your raging cock with a lot more force than necessary.

“That’s better,” Sakura nods in approval, giving you rapid strokes right from the get go.

“You’ve been such a good manager, you know that? Taking care of me so well, staying right by my side, believing in me, and now you’re going to get rewarded. You’re going to get to fuck her.”

You moan, and there’s a ptoo as Sakura spits on your cock, lubing it up.

“Good boy. Getting so hard. That’s what I like. Tell me, how many wet dreams have you had, thinking about something like this?”

Definitely too many. Sakura rises slightly to pull her jeans and panties down in one smooth motion, and even though your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, you barely process the glimpse of Sakura’s pretty pussy.

Her lips meet yours again, and you go straight for her breasts again, unable to get enough. They would be the perfect stress balls, and you’re sure you won’t forget their feel for the rest of your life, the way her nipples rub firmly against your palms, drawing little hitches of breath from her every time you do so.

“Pants and shoes fully off. Now.”

And the two of you scramble, Sakura laughing as the two of you try your best in the cramped space. She does her best to lie back, spreading her legs wide, resting one leg on the shotgun seat and the other on the backrest, inviting you between.

And wow, she is absolutely dripping. It’s glistening in the dim light. And it’s so pretty, little labia pressed together to basically say, yeah, she’s gonna be real tight. You make sure she’s in a comfortable position, then move to straddle her, hands digging into your hips, your cock flopping onto her pussy with a soft thwap!

“Look at that,” Sakura breathes heavily, “that’s going to go into me. You’re going to stick your big cock deep into me. You see how far you’re going to get? You might be too big, honestly-”

You groan. Who taught her these words?

You pull back your hip, aiming carefully, ready to hammer home, but a look into Kkura’s eyes gives you pause. She’s so pretty like this, so perfect…

She sees your hesitation and smiles, pulling you in for another kiss, one that tells you that yeah, she’s ready, just like you are. And the two of you want this.

“Do it,” she pleads, fingers wrapping around your arm, and you push in.

In. In and into that warm, tight, velvety canal, the kind of entry that makes your brain blank and your legs jelly. Sakura cries out loudly as you do so, her body involuntarily thrusting her hips back against you, so you sink just those few inches quicker into her sopping cunt.

You gasp, keeping her firm beneath you and drawing yourself out slowly. You’ll need to work your way in with her.

“Oh fuck,” Sakura whimpers as you push forward again, roughly to the same point you were at last time, the pleasure overwhelming already, and you withdraw again, take a deep breath.

Slowly, you begin to split her open, methodically striking deeper and deeper. Till she goes past halfway, takes up two thirds, three quarters. All the while Sakura is writhing, slurring in Japanese, crying out and throwing her head back, nearly knocking into the car door, her tits jumping forcefully with each jerk of her body.

“Aaaah fuck!” Sakura cries out at a particularly deep thrust, her legs clamping around your waist reflexively.

“Are you not in all the way? How big are you?”

You groan. At this point you’re already more than content with how deep you are, but you know the two of you won’t stop till you’re fully in her. You start to fuck her, watching her unbelievable way her pussy lips split around your cock, the way her eyes start to roll back in her head and her whole body tenses like she’s having a seizure.

“Oh my fucking god this cock is absolutely amazing,” Sakura chuckles mid moan, throwing her head back and cooing.

“Fuck, Kkura- ease up!” You hiss, Sakura’s tight enough as is without her additional clamping around your cock. From your angle, it absolutely looks like you’re ripping this small girl apart, and this fuels only the worst fantasies in your head.

“Nngh,” you groan, the thrusts requiring actual strength to get through. Can her tits stop bouncing like that? You’re not gonna last long like this. And the thought, just the notion, the way there’s a hint that with how warm and tight she is you might not even be able to pull out-

Sakura throws a hand up behind her, propping herself up stably against the car door, allowing you better leverage to break her open.

Her muscles tense, whole body taught, and it’s a visual feast. You can see the way her abs strain, the definition of her arms as she keeps herself in place, fucks you back, all while nodding and panting, eyes glued to yours, the two of you staring into each other like nothing matters.

There’s all her hard work, put into every sinew of well-defined muscle, pushing back against you to fuck you, hard. The beads of sweat trickling down her neck, to her belly, it leaves you lightheaded.

And that’s really all there is, in the surprisingly comfortable and cool company car, bodies rocking like waves crashing, with urgency and delicacy all the same, till Sakura’s lips are bubbling with moans and you’re just watching it all unfold, sending all this intensity into her body.

And you can see just how it’s hitting her all at once too, the way her mouth is open subconsciously, moaning and gasping at every thrust that knocks the wind out of her. Her body moves in ripples, swallowing as much as she can take. You make sure to keep things measured so you don’t push too far in. You want to make this about her.

“S…S-switch,” Sakura mutters, and you slow down quickly, ending with a sharp thrust that forces a whine from Sakura.

“Switch to what?”

“Dunno. Whatever you want.”

Whatever you want? Well…

“From behind.”

Sakura smirks. “Sure.”

You pull out, the two of you gasping, and Sakura turns around, legs wobbling slightly but still propping herself up against the car door, face looking out the window.

“You’re lucky I’m small, we wouldn’t be able to fuck in the back seat otherwise.”

And she’s right. You’re almost fully backed up against the opposite door from her. You curse. Sakura’s ass looks ethereal from this angle. You line yourself up greedily again, and push in without warning.

“Fuck!” Sakura yells, elbows knocking into the glass. You’re even closer to fully hitting inside her, which would be absurd.

“That is so fucking deep,” Sakura leans her head against her arms, shuddering. You press your palms against her ass cheeks, shining with sweat, unable to describe how unreal this feeling is.

Her cunt literally flutters around your cock, sucking you in, keeping you there, making sure your brain can think of absolutely nothing but her. With her ass in your hands it’s slightly easier to keep her steady, allowing you to deliver, sharper, firmer strokes, getting ever closer to the full thing.

“How much left?” Sakura asks, looking back over her shoulder with her eyebrows furrowed, slack-jawed.

“An inch,” you grunt, dropping your pace for smoother, longer, deeper strokes. Sakura growls at the switch up, her throat rumbling like she’s choking on your size.

“Okay,” she breathes, “Okay-ah-okay!”

She puts her head down, sucking in deep breaths.

“Do it. All the way.”

“All the way?” You perk an eyebrow.

“Just do it!”

So you do. You move your grip to her waist, tighten around her love handles, and pull her back while you thrust forward.

And the last inch slips in.

“Oh. Oooh fuck. Ohhhhhh fuuuuck!” Sakura sobs, her nails scratching against the glass. You groan as well, because she’s completely wrapped around you like a vice grip, hugging you absolutely perfectly. Your knees buckle, and she kicks her feet against your legs weakly.

“Oh god. That is too much. That is way too fucking deep,” Sakura’s speech slurs, her arms weakening. “Why the fuck are you so hung?”

“You okay? You did it, all the way in,” You gasp, resting a hand on her back gently. You’re genuinely not sure if you’re going to be able to pull out. Like that’s much of a concern at all.

“Yeah,” Sakura pants, “just need a moment, feels like I’ve got a meter of cock shoved up my cunt, fuck!”

She mutters something about needing to warm up, then throws her head back, her hair cascading over her back prettily.

You test the waters, try to pull out an inch. Sakura shrieks, her knuckles white against the door window.

“Kkura, babe-”

“I know, I know! Just give me a moment.”

Slowly the two of you start to calm down. Sakura’s pussy clenches erratically around your cock, with enough pressure to make you have to grab a hold of the back seat to stabilise yourself. But eventually she loosens that vice grip a little, rolling her hips in gentle circles to get her cunt a little more used to the stretch.

She braces herself against the car door, whispers something in Japanese that sounds like a prayer, and turns back to you with a determined look. She licks her lips. Nods.

You grab a hold of her to keep her still, and pull out.

“ Nnnaaa -” her little screech tapers off as you unsheathe yourself, and the two of you take a collective moment to catch a breath.

Then you go again, and Sakura nearly chokes at the feeling. Forget sore throats. She won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

And you’re not sure why she feels so good anyway, maybe it’s her small frame, or maybe it’s the fact that it’s fucking her. All you know is the third thrust is easier, the fourth passes by without much struggle, and by the seventh she’s completely smoothened out (helped by the fact that your dumbass remembers she has a clit and goes down to rub it).

“Aah- Jesus,” Sakura quivers, her body suddenly tensing and her cunt suddenly clamping down in a very telling moment.

You rub her clit a little harder and almost immediately you get a similar reaction. Huh.

“You’re about to cum,” you say matter-of-factly, pulling your finger away like you’re surprised. It’s drenched. Sakura doesn’t reply immediately, her brain likely already completely fried by the sensations, her breathing heavy and laboured, like she’s on the brink of collapsing (she is).

“ Un … yeah,” Sakura manages, and out of excitement you start to go faster, which means she starts to spiral quicker and quicker to that bursting point. You reach down again, something in your brain telling you that if she’s going to cum, you want her to cum as hard as possible. You try to pinch her little bud, and out of sheer sensitivity she tries to buck away.

“Oh god, wait! Oh god, wait, fucking wait! Shi- ah!”

You don’t. Because at some point you get curious. And the human mind is like that. At some point you wonder, what’s behind door number three?

You pull her, firmly, perhaps firm enough to bruise, back against your cock, her ass meeting your pelvis with an audible clap, and you reach down, lean over, breath into her ear, wrap an arm around her left tit, pinch it, and bring the other one to her clit. And you rub. With intention.

“No,” Kkura pleads, like she totally doesn’t want to lose her marbles.

“Oh fuck,” she says next, and you dip your head down to her hair, the smell of sweet flowers and the musk of sweat.

And finally, “don’t stop. Whatever you do, don’t stop.”

There we go.

So you don’t. You keep her there, in the middle of the car, fucking her hard enough to shake it, deep enough to make her see stars, and your bright pink light goes off with a scream.

“Fuuuuck!” Sakura hollers in the car, loud enough you think her members in the dorm must have heard it. And the truth is, there really is nothing better than that beautiful four letter word. Because at first it’s strange. You feel a gush of fluidity, like your cock has been doused, and you look down, and yeah, she’s dousing you all right. And it comes as such a shock, that all you manage is a “Oh my god!” and a very sudden feeling of: I might cum too.

Then the pressure returns, Kkura literally melting into the seat, groaning almost painfully as she forces another jet of liquid out of her and onto your legs. You fill your hands with her ass, like they’re your anchor to reality, and try to process, very slowly and stupidly, what just happened.

The car is silent, and the metaphorical crows are crowing, and you’re still fully hilted within Kkura’s furnace of a cunt.

“Uhhh,” you start, unable to understand the term ‘coherent sentence’.

“Stop.”

Sakura hasn’t turned around to face you, and you feel like it’s likely for a very good reason, like the blush creeping up her neck.

“You just-”

“I know.”

“That was-”

“Yeah.”

“I loved it.”

“Mmhmm-”

And it’s quick, the way Sakura jerks her head back to check for bullshit in your face, completely forgetting just how beet red her face is from both exhaustion and embarrassment.

“What?” You say, sheepish under Kkura’s piercing gaze, “it was hot.”

“Shut up.”

“No, really,” you say, rubbing her ass gently, “I’ve never had a girl do that before, and it was one of the best things I’ve ever seen.”

“Sick fuck,” Sakura bites, her face now a pomegranate. She turns back to the front, but you don’t let her, reaching down and pulling her up, meeting her with a liplock that has her keening.

You kiss her for a couple minutes, easing her with gentle strokes to her flanks, her essence dripping onto the seats.

You wonder if it’s possible to change out a new car.

And her eyes are soulful when you pull away, looking deep into yours and holding that fraction of time, something more personal, more emotional.

And you pull her back, slowly, till you’re seated back down and she decides to turn around so she can face you, arms slinking around your neck and pressing her forehead to yours.

She’s so beautiful up close, everything you’ve been watching over for so long magnified, responsive, glowing.

“More?” You ask. She nods. You dig your arms under her legs and start to thrust up, and she brings you in for a kiss, bends her knees, and grinds down. And she has the rhythm down from the get go, responding to your oscillations and responding in tune, a side effect of all the dance training she’s been doing or whatever. All that matters is that suddenly the lust has faded, and for a brief moment, there’s only room for something you’re not sure if you should say.

You disentangle your lips to press a couple kiss to her neck, and she leans in to your touch, and it’s a wonderful feeling, the heft of Sakura’s chest on yours, the fullness of those round tits pressing down, ass grinding against you, lower halves absolutely sticky.

And wow, she’s a champion, riding you like her life depends on it, like she didn’t just cum like a faucet, and you wonder, could you make her do it again? You want to keep making her do it, keep making her cum like that, like a phenom, keep wrapping her up in this, and tell her every day how she’s just keeps getting better.

You swipe her hair back, watching her eyes as she bounces, legs flexing, eyes tilting, drained but still so focused on you, on getting you over.

“I feel like I should say something,” you cough out, this constant pleasure she’s bringing you absolutely divine.

“You don’t need to,” she says, her voice saccharine, “I know. And I promise you, we’ll have time to say it all.”

And she stops, sinking and taking you all the way to the hilt, pulling you for a kiss that you’ve now gotten used to, know how to respond to.

She’s tired. She’s been working so hard. You scoop her up, spin her around. Lean her back against you. You’ll support her.

And you start to buck up, lifting her ass slightly up so you can give it to her, let her rest her hands on you.

“You feel so fucking good,” Sakura cries into the night, where only the two of you can hear.

“You feel better, and you’re going to make me cum.”

You spread her legs wider, granting you deeper access to her cunt, which has been leaking so profusely that every entry is completely uninhibited. You let the lust overtake you, so the two of you can reach that peak, that place that seems like fantasy.

Her fingers dig into your arms, cunt clenching, Sakura letting out a low, breathy moan that tells you everything. She’s close again. And you’re proud, proud because you’re the man that’s made her cum like this, that’s going to make her cum, and it’s a motivation that allows you to fuck her harder, to bring her butt back against your cock with eagerness, with the feeling that’s rushing to your skull.

“Oh, oh, oh,” Sakura repeats, saying something in Japanese you’ve heard before, that you even know the translation of.

You grip her hips. You want her to cum. One more time. You aim your thrusts, hips flying upwards at about the same angle as before, and you feel her cunt contract, her legs tensing, and you do it again.

“Baby,” you whisper, “one more time. Do it for me, one more time.”

“You’re crazy,” Sakura whimpers, even though she’s already going there, “My god, you’re going to make me go there again!”

And Sakura lifts a hand to help rub her clit, stimulating herself, her eyes shut tight as she feels it, that rush, that rush you’re feeling as well, her notes climbing in perfect ascending order, and you gritting your teeth, fighting through the burn in your legs and the tingling in your balls as you help her reach orgasm.

Her eyes shoot open, and she slams her butt down into your lap. She throws herself back, screaming, hips thrusting forwards and from the angle you have over her shoulder, you watch as she squirts, again, a clear hose of girl cum flying out of her pussy and splattering loudly against the driver seat in front.

Oh yeah, you love her.

Powerful stream after powerful stream erupts from her cunt, and you swear she might soak through the leather in front of her. Her whole body trembles against yours as she forces each powerful jet out of her, and you watch in rabid fascination as you make this beautiful girl come like never before.

But the clamp around your cock with each spurt is too much. You watch as she flings one final string of cum weakly forward, and you buck your hips roughly, because you’re about to go off.

“Kkura, I’m going to cum.”

“Outside!” Kkura hisses, and with surprising energy she tries to stand as you pull her off you, and your cock twitches, free, for just a moment before you’re lost as well, Sakura sitting back down and reaching for your cock, aiming it carefully all over her, stroking you furiously.

The first shot fires a string up to her tits, painting a pretty line of white. The second is even stronger, and she jolts as it strikes her chin, up to her lower lip. The next few are a mess, where you draw out a moan as you empty what feels like gallons all over her pale body.

Only when you buck your hips reflexively, a final weak spurt landing on her belly, does things seem to properly end.

Kkura stops stroking you, just leans back and stretches. She extends her arms and legs fully, like she’s cooling down her body, and in doing so presses herself firmly against you. The full weight of her body rests on top of you, skin to skin, her arms reaching back behind your head, giving you a perfect view of how you’ve desecrated her body.

Then she relaxes, humming contentedly, both hands miraculously finding yours and intertwining. Her eyes are closed, at peace, and so, for a few moments, so do yours. Your hammering hearts can finally catch a break.

The two of you breathe in tune, beyond satisfied, absolutely filthy with cum.

And it’s such a feeling.

“I’ll clean this up,” you tell Kkura once the two of you have had a brief moment. The world calls, and the two of you can’t stay like this forever.

Sakura looks down at the drying cum on her skin, playing with it idly.

“We have to clean you up as well,” you say, enjoying the view as much as she is.

“Mmm,” Kkura says, distracted.

“You like my cum a lot,” you joke.

“I’m just thinking.”

“Thinking what?”

“Thinking that I really regret not having you cum inside.”

And that’s how she leaves you, stunned. Kkura looks around, suddenly realising the state the two of you are in, completely ignoring the weight of her words.

“No tissues?”

“I’m out.” You say after a beat.

She looks down at the pile of clothes on the floor of the car, some of which are already stained.

“Would my bra and panties be enough?”

It’s a weird fix, but you try it. Definitely pretty strange, wiping cum off her skin with her panties, and trying to clean the rest with her bra, but the two of you don’t have many options.

The two of you slip back into your clothes, Kkura going full commando, and you reassure her that you’ll get the car cleaned, and that she should just go and get some sleep. It’s late.

So there Sakura is, standing outside your car, you back in the driver seat, the two of you sharing a gaze that is special. Her tight little top, now without underwear, press into her breasts in such a way that it leaves nothing to the imagination, the peaks of her nipples firm against the fabric. That, combined with the fact that you know there’s absolutely nothing under her jeans as well, drives you absolutely crazy, almost crazy enough to go for her again.

“Good night,” you say, and she fixes you with this cute little gaze.

“I want to see you tomorrow.”

“Then you will.”

_

Day Ten.

Music bank again. The girls are getting ready to go on stage. They’ve been training hard, and they’ve only been getting better. Coachella seems less like a headache and more of a certainty, and all future concerts, you know, will only have growing quality.

The four girls get ready to leave the dressing room, move to the stage, where the fans are waiting, cheering, ready to receive. Chaewon. Yunjin. Zuha. Eunchae. Only Kkura takes a beat longer, turning back to face you. It’s only the two of you here.

She reaches for your hand. Her eyes stay on yours.

“What is it?” You ask, concerned.

“Just watching.”

“Watching?”

“Making sure I remember your face. So I can focus on it when I’m up there.”

And with a smile that hurts with how pretty it is, she turns and goes, fearless.

And the performance is good.

Better, so much better. The show ends with another win, one that has you pumping a fist in joy, and the nervous silence of the crowd before the encore stage is vanquished once Chaewon delivers those opening notes.

Better. Not perfect, not bulletproof, but better.

The girls return, trophy in hand and smiles still as wide, cheering and whooping. Yunjin seems to be glowing. Eunchae clutches the trophy tightly, like it’ll drop at the slightest mistake. You smile, and Kkura, watching you, does as well.

The vocal lesson that night carries a different energy. An energy that’s been sparked since the two of you have come closer. It’s all professional, so professional you wouldn’t smell a thing, just that Sakura seems more at ease now, settling into easier smiles, taking her lessons with renewed vigour. You know someday this will end. That she’ll be singing, having achieved perfection like everyone wants her to, she won’t need those lessons every night, and your times together will get lesser. But it’s okay, even if you don’t see her again.

The drive back seems illuminated by pink lights. Sakura is seated shotgun today, hand clasped in yours, you showering her with praises of how pretty she was on stage.

You reach. You lean over for a kiss, which Kkura accepts, but then she pushes you back with a firm hand.

You raise an eyebrow.

“Park the car.”

You park the car, eyeing her curiously.

“Follow me.”

And you step out, now very curious, and your eyes widen when Sakura walks directly to the front door.

“Wait, Kkura, are you serious? You’re going to introduce me now?”

“Please, they know all about you already. You can’t keep a secret from these girls.”

Sakura fiddles with the lock, and you put your hands in your pockets, checking left and right for passerby.

“So what‘s this?”

“A present.”

“Kkura-”

“Come on.”

You cross the threshold, and it’s the first time you see the Le Sserafim dorm. Everything’s so overwhelming at first you’ll need a whole chapter of a book to describe it. The saving grace is from the living room you’re standing in, it appears that the lights are all off in the house, and it seems the girls are all asleep.

“Kkura, I really think you should get some sleep. Maybe another day.”

Kkura giggles, a private joke only she understands, turning back to you, “Oh, but I am? I’m going to get my rest. This present is solely for you. Good night, babe.”

For you?

“Good night…gorgeous?”you say slowly, as Sakura backs away from you slowly and slips into her room. Her door slips shut with a click.

Present? What present?

Then, four shapes you couldn’t make out clearly earlier peel away from the wall, and you nearly choke. You completely didn’t see their dark forms hiding against the wall. It’s four human figures, and by the time they’re close enough for you to see them, you’re just about to scream.

“Hello, manager-nim.”

“Eunchae?” You furrow your brow, able to recognise her timbre anywhere.

“You’ve been busy, manager-nim,” Chaewon says from your left, leaning in way too close for comfort, close enough for you to see her veins of her dark irises.

“Busy screwing our Sakura unnie.”

“I-I-I-“

“Don’t stutter like you don’t know anything, you fool,” Yunjin bites, her tall height really coming into use here as she towers over you, “Kkura unnie told us everything. When you’ve done it. Where you’ve done it.”

“In the company car, in the company toilet, even in one of the practice rooms?” Eunchae lists off each location with a finger.

“Unacceptable. Despicable.” Zuha finally adds, pronouncing each word for what seems like the first time. It’d be funny if the four of them didn’t have you surrounded, looking like they’re about to bash your head in.

“You think we’ll just let this slide, let you go scot-free? You want to come face to face with Ssamachi?” Chaewon threatens, giving you what appears to be the stink eye.

You quaver upon hearing that legendary name.

“You need discipline. And we’re here to teach it.”

“B-but Kkura also-”

“Ah-Bu-Bu-Bu-shhh,” Yunjin brings a long index finger between the diminishing space between the two of you, pushing you all the way back till you feel the wall behind you.

“You think you can just go around fucking one of our members whenever you like? Make the rest of us jealous and not have to do anything about it?”

Wait.

Wait what.

“That’s right,” Zuha growls- or does her best impression of it- crossing her eyes like she’s serious, “You fuck one of us, you fuck all of us. Did I say that right, unnie?”

Zuha looks to Yunjin for approval, who has to bite back a chuckle.

“About right, Zuha.”

Chaewon reaches for the buckle of your pants, and you’re absolutely bamboozled.

“Hope you’re ready for a long night, manager-nim. We’re going to have a very fun night indeed.”