#Compression Damping

[goodoldbandit]

Understanding Motorcycle Suspension and Tuning It: A Comprehensive Guide to Design and Performance.

Good Old Bandit Good Old Bandit. gob.stayingalive.in Discover expert insights on motorcycle suspension design and tuning for peak performance and control. Motorcycle suspension is much more than just a system of springs and shock absorbers—it is a masterpiece of engineering that marries design precision with performance finesse. In this comprehensive guide, we will dive into the intricate…

[ghostaholics]

logistically speaking i feel like price is the best one to ask for sparring tips? he’s been in the game for longer than the other 141 members and even the few extra years are important when it comes to experience

he’s gone up against every sort of enemy you could imagine; he’d be able to tell you how to use your size and height to your advantage – how to take down people, how to incapacitate them

and he’d be pretty good with encouragement and telling you what you’re doing right, but also giving pointers on fixing your stance or whatever else needs to be corrected

he’d never go easy, because he knows you won’t learn anything otherwise and you’re definitely not getting the edge over him until at least a couple of times of getting your ass handed to you

and then just out of frustration you ask him if he has any weaknesses, not expecting any worthwhile answer from him

until he gives a cheeky smile and says “only one. you.”

[ayakashibackstreet]

Incredible how I used to play games for 12 hours straight and my eyes were fine but now they're just Fucked Up for no reason

[endless-fluffering]

Today is my post-op. I can’t believe it’s been nearly a week since my top surgery.

[screampied]

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, unprotected, praise, established relationship, whiny nanami, cowgirl, mdni.

nanami loses his mind whenever his dick slips out of you.

thin blond strands of hair stick to his forehead as he stares at you. “sweetheart,” he almost pouts, hearing nothing but white noise in his ears as you’re jerking your body up and down against him. you felt so good, the warmth you always provided for him made him fall more and more in love. your saturated grip was merely addicting. he was quite literally drowning in your cunt. he found himself licking his lips, tossing his head back in bliss with a beefy arm clinging onto the rickety headboard. nanami uses his free hand to hold onto your waist, padded calloused thumbs brushing up and down your waist. “ugh, you do it s- so well, ride me so good,” and his words were like a broken record, a broken whisper. despite its raspiness, you could still hear the neediness lingering underneath. he looked so pretty, glossed up with tears of damp sweat. nanami’s mahongy blown irises rolling back before a low grunt pours from his lips.

“kento, ‘m close,” and as those sweet three words left your quivering spit-glossed lips, you let off a pitchy loud moan. your knees dig themselves deep into his thighs. as you vigorously rock further against his lap, it happens. he’s got a hand attaches to your waist only for his cock to abruptly slip itself out of your slippery cunt mid thrust and you could hear a tiny gasp leave his lips.

“o- oh fuck,” he groans, blinking twice. his entire palm creeps up against your ass as he pants. even the way he swore sounded angelic. the squelching pop sound that created from the sloppy action of your hips makes his ears ring. nanami buries his face into the forbidden crook of your neck in sheer embarrassment, wrapping a few thick fingers over his veiny length. “let me put it back in, s- sweetheart. stay still . . please.”

there was so much entreating beg in his voice, he felt the furrowing curl of his eyebrows compress together before he sprawls your thighs apart further with a single hand.

“okay,” you hum, feeling a breeze of wind rip straight out of your lungs. you’ve lost track of how many hours it’s been, riding him until he was a dumb pussy drunken mess. nanami felt his cock twitch at any and every word escaped from your lips. he could listen to your voice all day and never grow tired. your voice was his own favorite song to listen to on loop. “put it back in, ‘ken.”

“anything for you, my love,” he huffs, broad arms wrapping around your torso. he held you close, never wanting to let go.

the parching hot temperature of your own body radiates against him - your chest, it presses up onto his own and he practically feels himself melting from your balmy heat.

“s- so soaked for me.” he points out with half-lidded eyes and a flushed face, preparing to re-align himself. nanami finds himself gawking at just how wet you were, creating a sheeny trail of your heat all on his lap. it made his mouth water at the thought of him licking it right up. he never minded to be messy — especially for you.

anytime you let him go inside, he makes it his entire life goal to make sure you feel good.

you let off a whimper, skimming a few trembly fingers down his faded undercut as he’s going back inside. you can hear his irregular pants as he’s smearing his damp cockhead against your entrance. nanami stares down, practically about to cum just from going back in.

with ease, you suck him in slowly and that moment was gonna always be embedded into his brain. you always swallowed him in so good. his girth, it stretches you open right away and your pussy greets him yet again with another greeting welcome. “k- kento, fuuuck.”

“i know, i know,” he pants, maneuvering soothing circles around your back with a clammy palm. you still had your knees dug into his thighs, making a cute attempt to start moving again. both bodies so close, perspiring with sweat that you start to stick and glue against him. with his sculpted jaw tightening, nanami can’t help but give the left cheek of your ass a nice squeeze. “oh, sweetheart. ‘m not gonna last if you keep— keep clamping down on me like t- this, fuck.”

as he’s fully inside again and his eyes salaciously roll way back, the powerful jerk of your hips starts to accelerate again and he’s already dumb.

dumb from your sweet, sweet cunt - his true enemy, you had him whipped.

there’s already a milky white ring coating around his thickset base. each time you jolt up from his lap only to slam back down, you hear the squelches of your own slippery cunt.

it’s messy, he’s messy. only for you though.

nanami feels the warm palm of your hands playfully shove him back against the fluffed pillows that’s directly behind him. “ah,” he lands back with a sheepish expression, gentle umber colored eyes flickering at your grinding body. “w- what’s this?”

“lie back, ken,” you murmur to him, feeling the fat tip of his cock repeatedly kiss up against your most sweetest spots. it took everything in you for your thighs - for your legs to not collapse right then and there. you see more teary beads of sweat race down the sides of his forehead as he clings onto your unstable waist. “there . . good,” you purr to him, sliding a hand up his abs, a finger ghosting down his chiseled v-line and further back down toward his visible blond happy trail. “good boy.”

he swallows — a soft noise leaving out of him. nanami felt his cock twitch again, and this time, you felt it too. “s- say it again,” he pleads, his voice gruff yet still needy. you steady your hips, creating more haste before pressing a kiss into his neck. “c- call me that again, sweetheart.”

“good boy, kento,” you repeat in a whisper, realizing that he actually got off to your praises. he melts again, this time at your words. the bed creaks and grates in rapture, sweaty bodies mirroring springy movements in sync before he abruptly sinks his face into your chest.

“praise me more,” he utters hoarsely, and you let off a soft moan as he shifts himself underneath you.

you’re still bouncing on him, hearing the groaning springs of the bed sing out a lewd tune of its own and your back arches. as you felt brief bittersweet pangs near the undersides of your thighs spread like wildfire, he whines.

“mhh,” and within seconds, you feel the wet tip of nanami’s tongue lick a long stripe down the valley of your chest. pretty lashes of his flutter shut before he holds your hips in firm place. as you stare down, his twitching thickset cock still concealed deep within your walls, he pouts one more time, squished face tuck right between your chest.

“please. praise me again, my love. pretty please.”

[holeforzenin]

BESTFRIEND SATORU HELPING YOU COPE WITH YOUR BREAKUP!!

Tw - Degradation n praising, Satoru likes you. Not proofread. I hate this sm and it was rushed but oh well

ଘ ੭ ✩‧₊˚

You made your best effort to compose yourself, attempting to suppress the sobs that threatened to overwhelm you as you gently rapped on the sturdy wooden door looming in front of you. Hastily trying to put yourself together before you were met with Satoru’s familiar, handsome face.

His eyes gleamed with excitement as soon as he caught sight of you, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"What are you doing here so late babe, Shouldn't you be uhhh—having boring phone sex with your little boyfriend?" he quipped—his playful chuckle hinting with pride and maybe even jealousy laced with it.

His expression quickly changed to concernment when he saw the tears escaping your eye line. Instantly, his face softened and he moved closer, gently gripping your shoulders to get you to look at him.

"Woah, are you okay, sweetheart? Did something happen?", he asked worriedly as warm tears streamed down your face, he gently moved one of his hands to the back of your head, guiding your face into his chest for a tight embrace.

"What happened? C'mon, talk to me" he softly mumbled, feeling your sobs resonating against his chest, you sniffled and finally broke down, "No Satoru, He cheated! he fucking cheated on me—I don’t know what to do”. You gripped onto his shirt tightly as you held onto him.

His mouth gaped in shock and anger as he hugged you impossibly closer, The scent of his minty cologne enveloped you, clouding your thoughts and senses as you continued to cry in his arms.

“What??? I'm so sorry sweetheart, knew that fucking prick didn't deserve you—I'm so fucking sorry. What can I do to make you feel better?"

___

“Ahh, shit gonna lose my fucking mind in this tight pussy.” he lets out a throaty groan that resonated in the air.

Pure sweat glistened from his body, his biceps, his chest, his back—all fucking sticky and damp almost as if he was working out— well it coulddd count as a workout, technically.

“No fucking way, that dumb fucker cheated on this”, he gasped, anger coursing through him as his hand instinctively gripped onto the headboard for stability while he loses himself to the warmth of your soppy pussy compressing the life out of his cock, each squeeze pulling him deeper into your core.

His white bangs stuck to his forehead as the ends tickled his face with dampness. You mewled loudly as your face distorted with unanticipated pleasure—Pleasure that you'd never thought you could ever felt before, until this day.

He had you folded in a fucked-up mating press—insisting that the closer he is to you, the better he'd be able to comfort you.

“Fuckk! Toruu~” you moaned pornographically, your toes involuntarily curling against his toned back as your knees knocked against your bouncing tits.

His beaming blue eyes piercing through you feverishly as he stared down at you—his face just mere inches away from yours. "Fuck yeahh, moan my fucking name just like that sweetheart, that's right. I'm the one pounding this perfect little pussy” he purrs softly, smirking as drool escapes your lips.

Of course, he was unhappy and worried to see his poor best friend miserable because of the breakup. But deep down, a part of him felt…relieved?

It's not like that dumb, immature scrawny bitch could ever give you what he has to offer.

Never, Never never never. You deserved better, way better. Someone like him…

“Mmm Fuckkk, Satoruuu. stretching me s’good” you cried out in pure ecstasy as the tip of his cock rubs against your g-spot so rawly and naturally in a way that felt heavenly —your boyfriend was never able to find it.

“Yeah? You like me splitting open this pretty pussy with my cock? When was the last time you had a good fucking like this, babe?” Satoru laughed breathlessly, his cock throbbing with each thrusts.

The bed sinking as a result from his weight as he bullied his hefty cock into you—fucking you absolutely dumb, deeper into his mattress.

Your glassy eyes were now obscured by a hazy blur, the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins as your eyes rolled back—Satoru thought the sight of you like this was so so beautiful. Seeing his precious little best friend whom he loveee so much getting dumbed down from his dick etched something primal in him.

His mouth gaped slightly as he moaned, his eyes full of desire and passion. He brought his face closer, his warm breath brushing against your skin before he smashed his lips onto yours.

His mouth completely devouring you as the both of you moaned in unison, lost in the intensity of the kiss—your tongues tangling together as your tummy fluttered in excitement.

His skin stuck to yours disgustingly as your boobs bounced against his chest, your fingers laced through his hair. The sensation made him groan before he eventually pulled away from the passionate kiss.

He quickly switched positions, hauling your body closer to him so your ass could slowly be arched up—resting against his thighs as he pounded your sloppy, messy cunt at the deeper angle.

A rhythmic series of “Hahhh!” fills the room—almost like a chant of pleasure escaping his lips as his gaze is fixated on where the two of you were connected—his cock completely disappearing inside your warm core at the snap of his hips as his snowy pubic hair lightly nudges against the sensitive bud of your arousal.

“This pussy is taking me in so well, fuck he could never—dunno why you were even with him–nghh! in the first place” he emphasizes on the last word with a deep, hard powerful thrust.

“I could treat ya so much better than he ever did sweetheart, better forget about him—don't ever wanna see you crying that fucker again” he smirks down at fucked out face—so cute and pretty all clumsy from his cock.

Thick balls slapping against your asshole as your slick coats both of them, forming a slippery layer that gradually dripped down onto his sheets.

“Or don't worry, heh—i’ll just fuck you into a brainless little slut, that'll surely make you forget about him” he laughs out. His tongue dragging against his lips as his fingers kneads into the soft flesh of your thighs.

Your eyes rolled back uncontrollably to his words, it was obvious to you that Satoru had a little crush on you for a while now and fucking hated your boyfriend but hearing him actually vocalizing his feelings in such a vulnerable, intimate moment made you lose your mind.

His lengthy cock dug into your pussy in such a mean manner in the new angle—his relentless thrusts hitting your cervix over and over, making your pussy overflowing with juices all over his dick, facilitating to force his dick into you.

You squealed, feeling his finger suddenly rubbing fast circles on your clit—causing your inner walls to flutter around his shaft in a euphoric response to the new wave of pleasure that surged through your body.

“Mmmfp! Yesyesyes! don't stop, s’close” you exclaimed, your fingers tightly clasping onto the sheets to anchor yourself.

“Yeah? Gonna cum on my dick baby?” He inquires with a toothy grin, his bicep muscles prominently bulging, emphasizing his toned physique as his abs flexes because of the angle. Giving you the most delicious view of his body.

“Yes! Ahh, Toruuu” Your eyebrows furrowed together as you felt your orgasm approaching. Your body trembled in ecstasy. The feeling of good sex was so so refreshing to you that you started questioning yourself why you weren’t with Satoru instead in the first place?. He was charming, rich, and funny—despite his annoying personality and teasing, he was almost perfect, but maybe because you two have been best friends for all those years, you just haven’t thought about him like that.

Before you knew it, milky white rings coated his cock—overlaying every inch of his shaft and painting his balls. “Mmmmm!” You breathe heavily, almost losing your mind as you watched Satoru’s eyes roll back at the feeling of you messing up his dick.

“Yessss, that’s it baby—God, fuck, making such a pretty mess all over me” he tried to keep his composure but he miserably failed, he just fucking couldn't, hell he couldn’t even pull out quick enough before spurting his hot cum directly into your womb, making loud squelching noises filling the room as his warm, sticky cum overflowed out of your pussy.

It was so so messy, there’s no way there wasn’t a big wet patch of cum below the two of you.

“So do ya prefer our date being tomorrow or the day after—I’d prefer tomorrow because I’m not working, plus I wanna take you out as soon as possible,” he said in a cheery, out-of-breath tone, managing to catch you off guard as if he wasn’t still balls deep inside of you.

“Seriously Satoru? We can discuss this later” you muttered with a hint of annoyance—causing him to pout in response before picking up your upper body to sit on his lap—cockwarming him.

He pulled you into a sweet, passionate kiss—his hands groping your ass as you tangled your fingers through his hair.

“Fineee” he playfully whispered—you giggled lowly, feeling his smile forming against your lips as he held you close.

[visdollie]

can you write a vi x f!reader where vi absolutely does not care how hard she fucks you? i figure she doesn’t realize her own strength at times, after training her whole life. and i want to be on the receiving end of that 🤤

will do cutie!!

there are a countless amount of things you love about your girlfriend, vi. you could write a novel about it, but at the top of the list it’d be her body.

it almost hurts you; her toned, beefy biceps sticky with sweat after working out (kicking peoples ass), or even just lifting you up to reach the upper cabinets.

how badly she made you wet in a simple black wife beater. how defined the curves of her abs were in a compression shirt. you couldnt handle it.

and she knew too, atleast you thought she did.

during you and your girlfriends first time, she was gentle and soft on you, and even that was too much for you to handle. her girthy thick fingers pressing into your warm, spongy walls; the way your pussy dripped onto her abs as you rode them. you came in less than 5 minutes that night.

vi didnt know realize how much of an affect sex with her had on you. you swore it was all on purpose when she’d lick you out till tears welled up in your eyes, or when she’d manhandle you on her strap thats half the size of her arm. yeah, even her strap was huge.

you weren’t complaining, though. you went back begging her to fuck you silly every single time, which got you stuck in this situation.

“baby.. please, its-“ you were cut off by a third finger being pushed into your glossy cunt, making your back arch off against her chest. she’d made you cum a good four times, to the point where your eyes were dried out of tears.

you settled between her legs with your knees propped up, your hands full of the damp sheets and one of her arms caging you down by your hip to make sure you wouldn’t run.

her thumb was focused on your clit as she rubbed at the sticky bud vigorously. it was messy; cum and spit everywhere, strings of loud whines leaving your mouth.

vi’s piercing smokey, blue eyes stared down at your cunt, grinning at your fucked out face. “dont wanna hear that mess angel, nuhuh. you better take it. you look so pretty..” her praise made you whine.

to her, it was a regular fuck. nothing too bad, but she had no idea what she was doing to you.

the deeper she pressed into you made you keen loudly n pout your lips in overstimulation. “fuck, vi.. c..cant cum anymore..” your voice grew breathier the closer you got to your fifth orgasm. she gripped your face, tilting it n bringing it close to hers as she licked up your tears from your jaw all the way down to your collarbone.

“too much? you’re okay, baby. just wanna make you feel good.” vi apologized wordlessly by pinching and rubbing at your nipples with her free hand. she selfishly stared at your hips struggling, fucking a fourth finger into you as she pounded them in like a jackhammer.

vi’s fingers were sore n cramped from fucking into you at such a relentless pace.

her fingers moved in and out of you at a speed that almost made you dizzy. you swore you’d pass out if you went on for any longer, but you handled it for her.

you could feel how soaked she was through her underwear just by your noises alone. the shifting n squirming around; your ass rubbing against her clit made soft groans leave her lips.

“gon..gonna cum..” vi sped up her rough thrusts at your whimpers, kissing down your neck.

she used her free hand to spread your thighs farther open, whispering a “dont think i wanna let you cum, pretty,” in your ear. an immediate whine left your throat.

vi loved prelonging your orgasms. she loved the thought of having complete control over your sensitive body. it was almost a misson of hers to take over your brain everytime you two fucked. she wanted to ruin you, make her your little doll.

you didnt know how much more you could take. it was just mean how rough she was being.

right before you could tap out, she pulled her fingers out of you slowly, watching a string of your creamy juices connect your pussy to her fingers.

a long, drawn out huff left your lips as you caught your breath and tried to regain your composure. “you’re a fuckin beast, vi. fuck..”

she giggled at your comment and planted a kiss on your forehead, getting off the bed and digging around in her bedside drawer. you already knew what was coming.

“vi.. please-“ “shh.” she cut you off as she pulled out her strap.

“you thought we were done baby? cute. cmon, you can handle more.”

a highly expected whine spilt from your lips— mouth opening to oppose, but you knew there was no point. you just had to listen to her.

you spread your legs, hissing at the soreness in your pussy and inner thighs, and clasped onto the sheets prepared for more hours of torture.

it was gonna be a long fucking night.

@ visdollie 2025

srry if this was bad!!

[hsnlv]

fevered affection | s.jy

pairing: boyfriend!jake x reader

synopsis: jake’s mild fever turns him into the clingiest, most dramatic version of himself, and you’re left to baby him through it all. from exaggerated pouts to nonstop cuddles, he insists on being pampered and refuses to let you out of his sight.

others: super dramatic and clingy jake!! (which i dont mind. i love clingy jake!!), babying a grown man is my favourite hobby

wc: 1.2k

a/n: hello yes ive been thinking about clingy jake since FOREVER so i hope you’ll enjoy this!! reblogs amd comments are highly appreciated🎀 here’s my masterlist!

it’s 2 a.m. when you’re startled awake by the faint sound of shivering beside you. groggy, you blink against the darkness, turning to find jake curled up in a ball, his entire body trembling. his usually warm, furnace-like presence now feels clammy and frail under your fingertips.

“jake?” you whisper, your voice thick with sleep as you touch his arm. “are you okay?”

his response is a low, pitiful groan that tugs at your heartstrings. you sit up immediately, brushing the hair from his damp forehead and pressing your palm against his skin. it’s burning hot.

“babe, you’ve got a fever,” you murmur, brushing gentle circles against his temple.

his eyes flutter open halfway, glassy and filled with dramatic resignation. “it’s over for me,” he croaks, his voice scratchy and hoarse. “just… promise to remember me as i was.”

you let out a quiet laugh, unable to help yourself. “you’re not dying, jake. it’s just a fever.”

“it feels like death,” he insists, his bottom lip jutting out in the most exaggerated pout you’ve ever seen. “i’m… so weak.”

you coax him to sit up, offering him some water and medicine, but it’s like trying to manage a sulky toddler. he groans with every movement, leaning his full weight against you like he can’t possibly hold himself up.

“okay, i’ll grab a cold compress,” you say, starting to slip out of bed.

his hand shoots out to grab yours, his grip surprisingly strong for someone claiming to be on their last breath. “don’t leave me,” he pleads, his voice trembling as if you’ve just suggested abandoning him forever.

“jake, i’ll be gone for thirty seconds.”

“thirty seconds is an eternity,” he whines, tugging you back toward him. “i might not survive the loneliness.”

you sigh, stroking his hair as he clings to you with a vice-like grip. “you’re so dramatic.”

“i’m sick,” he counters, his tone bordering on offended. “this is what sick people do. we need love. attention. you.”

despite his theatrics, you give in, knowing he’s not letting go anytime soon.

the next morning, you wake up early, carefully slipping out of his arms to make him some tea. you’re halfway through the kitchen when you hear the faint sound of rustling blankets, followed by a muffled, hoarse voice.

“babe?”

you pause, turning toward the bedroom. “i’m in the kitchen.”

“why?” he whines, his voice trembling with betrayal. a moment later, you hear the soft thud of his feet shuffling toward you. when he appears in the doorway, he looks like the epitome of pitiful: his hair is a mess, his blanket is draped over his shoulders like a cape, and his lips are pulled into the deepest pout you’ve ever seen.

“you left me,” he accuses, his eyes narrowing.

“i was making tea for you.” you gesture toward the steaming cup on the counter.

“tea doesn’t make up for abandonment,” he grumbles, shuffling forward to wrap his arms around your waist. he presses his forehead into your shoulder, his body slumping against yours like he hasn’t seen you in years. “you can’t just leave me. what if i needed you?”

you laugh softly, brushing a hand through his messy hair. “you’re impossible.”

“impossibly in love with you,” he mumbles, nuzzling into your neck.

once you get him back into bed, the day becomes a parade of clinginess and melodrama.

“can you feed me?” he asks at breakfast, holding out a spoon like a helpless child.

“jake, your hands aren’t broken,” you say, raising an eyebrow.

“but i’m fragile,” he protests, slumping back against the pillows. “i could drop the spoon. it’s too risky.”

rolling your eyes, you give in, scooping up a spoonful of soup and holding it to his lips. he accepts it with a small, content hum.

“you’re the best,” he says, looking up at you with wide, adoring eyes.

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” you mutter, and his grin grows even bigger.

later, when you dare to leave his side for a mere moment, he starts calling for you immediately.

“babe? babe! where did you go?”

“i’m in the living room,” you shout back.

“why are you in the living room? i need you here!”

“i’m grabbing you another blanket!”

“don’t take too long! i’m suffering!”

by mid-afternoon, you’ve resigned yourself to being his personal comfort object. he’s sprawled across your lap, his head resting against your stomach while his arms cling to your waist. every time you shift even slightly, he lets out a soft whimper.

“do you love me?” he asks suddenly, his voice quiet and a little vulnerable.

“of course i do,” you reply, brushing your fingers through his hair.

“say it again.”

“jake—”

“please?” he tilts his head up, his eyes big and pleading.

you sigh, smiling despite yourself. “i love you.”

“good,” he murmurs, nuzzling back into your lap. “i needed to hear it.”

by the time evening rolls around, his fever has mostly broken, but his clinginess remains in full force. you try to fluff his pillows, but he pulls you back down beside him, locking his arms around you.

“you’ve been amazing today,” he says softly, his lips brushing against your shoulder.

“yeah, well, i can’t believe i spent the whole day taking care of a big baby,” you tease, ruffling his hair. “totally not on my bucket list.”

he gasps, pulling back to gape at you. “a baby? me? i’m not a baby!”

“you’re literally pouting right now,” you point out with a laugh.

his bottom lip juts out even further. “that’s not pouting. it’s… expressing my disappointment.”

“sure it is,” you say, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “but it’s okay. you’re a very cute baby.”

he huffs but can’t hide the smile creeping onto his face. “fine. but only because you think i’m cute.”

as you settle back into bed, his arms wrap tightly around you again, his breathing soft and even against your neck.

“you love me, right?” he whispers one last time, his voice tinged with sleep.

“i do,” you say, your hand trailing soothing circles along his back.

“good,” he murmurs, already half-asleep. “because i love you more.”

© all rights reserved | hsnlv 2024

[novacqnes]

✩ sore loser // vi

summary: with an undefeated streak of nine wins victory is sweet for pitfighter!vi, but losing can be even sweeter.

⋆ warnings: pitfighter!vi, brief mentions of blood, alcohol & violence, smut; oral, squirting & fingering [fem receiving], top!vi

⋆ pairing: vi x fem reader

⋆word count: 2.4k

⋆ a/n: stop the vi hate, she’s so hot and sexy and kind, i forbid it!

nails scraped feverishly against the scarred skin of vi’s arm. needy and sharp, they littered the rough surface, leaving behind deep pink crescents with each touch. back and forth, back and forth, they dug into her flesh almost mechanically as she remained fixed between your thighs. desperately bringing her tongue against your wet clit. she lapped up your fluids, allowing her soft lips to slide against your pussy effortlessly as you shook against her, fighting through a blurred haze. fiery tears crept from your eyes; one by one they surged forward, setting your cheeks aflame along with the rest of your body. it took everything—every last drop of unbearable desire and greed—to steal a glance at vi. 

slivers of jet black and red hairs clung to the crown of her forehead. her features were frozen; misty blue eyes caught on you. she wanted more, eager for it, as every aspect of your being entranced this woman. your taste lingered on her tongue as she sank back in for more, drawing desperate whines from your lips. your smell, sugary and thick, filled the room just the way she liked, overwhelming all her senses. or the way you moved against her, jerking your body with each flick of her tongue against your folds. down to the cries—your cries, which were lewd and slick, permeating the humid air around you. allowing her this small fragment in time where she could truly win.

her knees hit the ground first, a loud thud rang through your ears as vi sank onto the blood-stained concrete. her hands found their way there next, gripping onto the ground as they fought for an ounce of stability among the animalistic screams. they pierced the putrid air, trapping your body in the middle as hundreds of people pushed against you. they demanded she rise and fight for the very status that had left her undefeated for weeks, but she didn’t move. rather she pressed her eyes close, shutting out the light, her opponent’s bashed face, and any possible connection you may have had to her. her heart pounded against her chest, pleading with her to breathe, to no avail. 

a crushing weight pressed against vi’s chest, forcefully expelling the air from her body. every one of her muscles begged for her to stop. she slid forward, a gasp crawling up her lungs as a wave of agony consumed her. she could shrug off pain. she’d done it many times before, but each movement left her with that same dreadful sensation. her mind and body vied for two opposing sides, both resulting in her losing this match, yet she was relentless. her fingers scrapped the ground as she pulled herself up in one swift motion, violently suppressing the nerves that writhed in her stomach. once more, violet brought her arms to her side, guarding her face as she swung a bruised fist at her opponent. 

the white sheets felt damp in your palms, providing a gentle substitute for vi’s skin. in your hands it compressed, shrinking with each stroke of vi’s thumb against your clit. the pressure was light at first, growing more fervent by the second. she pressed a soft kiss to your thigh, her breath warm as she moved up hovering over your pussy. she lingered for a moment, teasing you with the slightest bit of contact before pulling away. tension bloomed at the pit of your stomach, taking hold of your hips and drawing you to vi’s mouth— begging her to come closer. your movements were shaky; you wouldn’t be able to hold for much longer, but vi had to let it. she gazed up at your body, a mumbling mess covered in a thin film of sweat at her efforts. it gave her satisfaction beyond any victory in the pit; this was just for her.

“fuck—t-there still may be a follow-up—you can try again,” you moaned, vi slipping a finger inside you. she curled them sharply as she leaned forward, gently pressing her lips to yours. 

she began slow; you leaned into vi’s warmth, savoring the taste that lingered on her tongue. euphoric was an understatement. this was everything vi was lacking, splayed out across her flimsy mattress. there was something about your pleasure being in her hands that pulled the best from her—and it wasn’t a matter of control. whether it was you on that bed or her, vi adored the fact that it was with someone. her fights were isolating, in spite of the dozens of people that filled the pit each night. they weren’t fighting with her—but right here you were.

“they don’t wanna see me, sweetheart.”

“violet—“she spat against your core, moving down until her lips met your pussy. her tongue traced against your folds, flicking up and down as her index finger moved in and out. she soon slipped in a second, third, and fourth, sinking them inside your cunt at an unfathomable pace. her body showed no signs of slowing down. thick veins bulged from her forearm, and splotches of pink colored her cheeks, but she was on overdrive. determination clouded her senses, erasing any semblance of pain that arose in her. 

she muttered into you, “i’m good right here, just relax for me, yeah?” her voice was silky smooth, with sultry lined at the very top of it. she kept your legs open, solidifying her place between them as she hummed, furiously lapping at your clit. she smacked obnoxiously, pressing herself deeper and deeper into you until you had no choice but to make more room for her. and your hands acted first. they snaked their way around your hamstrings, forcing each leg to your sides as vi hummed in praise, sending a soft vibration up your core. 

the pleasure was beyond words, propelling you to an alternate realm as you pulsed around vi’s fingers, sucking them in with each charged stroke. she molded to you perfectly, pressing against the spongy tissue of your g-spot for as long as she could. it was evident; every fiber of her being was in this room, pushing you towards ecstasy. soon, black dots crept into your vision, distorting vi from your view, and before long your eyelids followed suit, shutting the rest of the room from you. 

“oh you’ve such pretty eyes, keep them here, right here,” she cooed. that fucking tone. so gentle and attentive it was nauseating. her gaze was unwavering; as if this wasn’t enough, she refused to look away from you, forcing your eyes to the glassy wetness smeared across her face. those eyes—they latched onto you, urging you to watch your girlfriend sink herself nose deep into you over and over again. the pressure magnified with each brush of vi’s lips against your clit. 

the words were trapped in your throat, “fuck vi—oh“ halting as you rapidly began to unravel. your gaze finally broke from hers, pulling your eyes to the feeble ceiling lights. a string of profanities fell from your lips as you shook against her mouth, surrendering to the adrenaline that mercilessly ripped through your body. 

“you don’t know what you do to me... so needy and beautiful. push yourself back on to me,” vi whispered, her voice dropping to a dangerously low octave. it sent a shiver up your spine, as the sensitivity followed. the pleasure bordered on overstimulation, but to say you wanted it to end would’ve been a lie. the sensations were purely addictive, bringing your body to her lips while in the same breath employing your hand to block her. making sense of it in the moment was nearly impossible thus, it took everything in you not to faint right then.

you gasped, “i-can’t—“

“move your hand y/n, let me hear it sweetheart.” 

vi’s brows furrowed slightly, dipping down as her eyes landed on your fingers, shakily obscuring her view. she watched as they moved mere inches, pausing at your lower stomach. she brought a hand to them, softly caressing your skin with her thumb, and carefully noting how you shuddered, whining at the slightest hint of contact. you were close, yes, but this couldn’t be rushed. 

vi moved from your legs, pressing her pink lips to your neck as she toyed with your clit, rubbing slow torturous circles into you. she kept a steady pace, not budging even when you grinded against her. rather she peppered your clavicle with kisses, running her tongue along the tender skin of your exposed neck. heat simmered at your cheeks, consuming the rest of your face as vi wielded your pleasure for her own satisfaction. every whine and gasp served to fuel what was left of her tattered ego. the control intoxicated her, restoring vi with a confidence that she hadn’t experienced since she set foot in the pit.

yet it was also about you—pleasing you—that drove violet insane. her body was quickly approaching its limit; it ached with dark purple bruises that covered her knees and fingers that were raw from the constant friction of bandages. vi adored this. she fell in love with the idea of giving every last bit of what she had to offer, and after her loss, she was destined to prove that even more. 

“holy shit,” you muttered, pressing your forehead against hers. desperation oozed from your voice as you cupped vi’s face in your palm. beyond your voice, the surrender was palpable. heavy eyelids shielded most of your eye, leaving visible only small glints of pigment. it grew increasingly difficult to focus on her but the same couldn’t be said for vi. she pushed the black strands from her face leaning against you as she picked up the pace. adding more and more pressure to the bundle of nerves—but it wasn’t enough. she would move her arm, delicately flexing the muscles in her forearm in restraint. her mouth would hover over your ear, teasing you with her tongue. she used it against you deliciously, following the long veins that trailed your neck until you were a whimpering mess. it was a tireless endeavor that vi trekked for hours. all of her efforts culminating in this one moment before ruining it all with a sudden halt. 

“vi please—“ 

she shook her head. “beg, baby.”

“please let me cum for you.” weakly you took her hands in yours, moving them from your clit, you slurred, “i wanna cum all over you.

she laid a soft kiss on your cheek, slipping her index back as you wrapped around her beautifully, blanketing her skin in a unique warmth that drew a gasp hum from vi’s lips. she curved them upward, meeting your g-spot once again. you shifted underneath her body, moaning into her ear completely unabashed. the anticipation reveled inside you with vi building on her speed. sweat dripped from her temples, sticking the dark black strands to her forehead. slowly, she came undone with you. her jagged breaths began to match yours, and her movements were growing more and more shallow.

streams of euphoria rifled through your body as the pit returned at the bottom of your stomach, paralyzing you from the waist down. torturously vi’s fingers met your g-spot, prodding and teasing the surface. your heart continued to race, beating out of your chest until it was the only thing that vi could hear; your moans slowly taking a backseat. limb by limb, the heat consumed you, leaving you victim to the overwhelming pleasure that began at your pussy, sending the rest of your body into a tailspin. 

she egged you on, “just like that, sweetheart, fuck, just like that." you could no longer make out vi’s beautiful face; the slight curve of her cheek was faint along with the rest of her features as you writhed against her. quickly losing control of the autonomy you once had. the pit within your stomach only sped up the process, bringing tears to your eyes as you cried, sinking your nails into the mattress. with one last thrust of vi’s finger, fluids rushed from your pussy, soaking the sheets underneath you in one swift motion. you were falling, silently surrendering to the emotions that took hold of your body. for that time, your body wasn’t entirely your own but a vehicle that only vi could steer. 

she took her place beside you, wrapping her arms around your waist as a pervasive silence fell upon the room. her hands soothingly rubbed the skin of your thigh, almost lulling you to sleep as the bright lights faded from view. you could feel her slowly succumbing to fatigue yet she moved closer, snuggling against your back. 

you tapped her arm, “hey, you did your best.”

“that’s what scares me,” she shrugged. there was always this slight divide between vi and what she did in the pit. you could see it. it was draining, extracting every bit of light from vi’s soul like an eternal vacuum. if anything, you were slightly grateful for this loss; it alleviated some of the pressure that burdened her, yet this wasn’t enough to put an end to it. truly the only person that could pry vi away from this place was herself. 

you turned to face her, “maybe that means it’s time to stop.” 

vi pressed her lips shut, her blue eyes briefly meeting the ceiling before falling back on you.

“if not, then you’ll probably lose again, which totally sucks but I’ll be here when you do,” you sighed. she allowed your hands to roam her sculpted arms. thumb tracing the ink etched into her tricep. uncertainty steadily filled the room as you both sat in silence, taking in the sight of one another. it offered you a slight glimmer of hope beyond the pit, a hope for a brighter future. one in which vi could simply be, without tirelessly fighting to prove her worth in every fight. she was worthy of love, and hopefully this moment of you two merely admiring each other was enough to begin that process. 

“i’ll make sure to lose each time then,” she chuckled, jumping up from the mattress. a smile tugged at the corners of her lips, but you refrained from pointing it out, basking in the joy that settled over your girlfriend. it was small moments like these that made it all worth it. 

you began, “that’s not what i meant—“

“i’ll go check out that follow-up fight; you stay right here.”

[tobiosbbyghorl]

just a shirt? | psh

It started off like any normal weekend hangout.

Sunghoon texted:

“Gym run first, then I’ll meet you at the food trucks?”

You replied with a quick “Sure, don’t forget to drink water,” expecting him to show up in his usual off-duty look — hoodie, baggy sweats, hat pulled low, and the occasional backpack slung on one shoulder. His certified campus boyfriend disguise.

But nothing — nothing — could have prepared you for what actually walks up to you twenty minutes later.

Sunghoon appears at the edge of the plaza wearing a black compression shirt that clings to his chest and arms like a second skin, paired with light grey sweatpants hanging just right on his hips. His hair’s still damp from the gym, a little tousled, a little too attractive for your peace of mind. There’s a sheen of post-workout sweat on his arms, and that smug smile he always wears when he knows he looks good.

You choke on your smoothie the moment you spot him.

“Hey,” he says casually, greeting you with a quick kiss to the cheek, totally unaware of the chaos he’s just caused inside your brain.

You blink at him, wide-eyed. “What the hell are you wearing?”

He frowns. “Uh… clothes? What, do I look weird?”

“That’s the problem,” you mutter under your breath. “You don’t look weird. You look like—like—”

You glance around and immediately regret it. Two girls passing by literally slow down their steps to look at him. Another one outright stares from the bench across. Your jaw tightens.

Sunghoon follows your gaze, a little confused. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that you’re out here looking like a walking thirst trap,” you hiss, grabbing his wrist. “You’ve been hiding this body under your oversized hoodies for months, and now you decide to dress like a Calvin Klein ad?”

He blinks, then smirks. “Wait… are you jealous?”

You roll your eyes, trying not to blush. “I’m not jealous. I’m concerned.”

“Concerned for what?”

“For public safety,” you deadpan. “And my sanity.”

Sunghoon bursts out laughing, the sound full and boyish and so annoyingly attractive. “So what do you want me to do?”

You huff, crossing your arms. “Just—come back to my dorm. It’s literally five minutes away. I can’t focus if people keep checking you out. It’s like… dating a walking distraction.”

His brows rise. “You’re asking me to hang out in your dorm because girls are looking at me?”

“No,” you say, already dragging him in the direction of your building. “I’m asking you to hang out in my dorm so I can look at you in peace without someone else doing it first.”

That earns you a very pleased grin. “Damn. Three months in and you’re finally down bad.”

You shoot him a glare over your shoulder. “Sunghoon. Don’t push it.”

He laughs again, keeping pace with you, fingers lacing through yours as if he didn’t just walk out dressed like every girl’s daydream. “I’m just saying… if you wanted a private show, you could’ve just said so.”

“Shut up.”

“I could’ve brought extra gym clothes.”

“Shut. Up.”

But your ears are burning, and Sunghoon’s looking at you like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You’re doomed.

—

Sunghoon toes off his sneakers as you unlock your dorm room, still grinning like a little shit.

You’re trying so hard to act normal — really, you are. But it’s difficult when he’s standing there in that shirt and those sweatpants, looking like he belongs in a thirst trap compilation, not your tiny dorm room.

The moment the door clicks shut behind you, you toss your bag on the chair and try to shake off the heat in your face. “You can sit wherever,” you mumble, heading to the mini fridge. “I have water or… watered-down juice.”

“I’ll take water,” he says, stretching his arms overhead with a quiet groan.

And you swear, the fabric of his shirt creaks with the motion.

You whip your head away instantly. “You’re doing that on purpose.”

“What?” he says, so innocently it’s criminal. “Stretching? Baby, I just worked out. I’m sore.”

You turn and glare at him, water bottle in hand. “Stop calling me baby when you’re dressed like that. It’s a health hazard.”

Sunghoon leans back against your bed frame, legs spread slightly, one arm resting behind his head like this is a photo shoot. “Why? You said you wanted me in here. So you could look.”

You throw the bottle at his chest — he catches it easily, grinning. “You are so cocky.”

“You like it,” he shoots back, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip. His throat bobs with the movement, jaw flexing as he swallows.

You nearly combust.

Sunghoon notices, of course. His smirk deepens. “You’ve seriously never noticed my gains, huh?”

You groan and flop face-down into the bed beside him, muffling your voice into a pillow. “Because you always dress like a retired idol turned Twitch streamer.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to scare you,” he teases, poking your side. “Didn’t want you to fall in love too fast.”

You lift your head just enough to glare. “Too late. I already like you, unfortunately.”

“Ouch,” he grins. “You love me a little more today though, don’t lie.”

You groan again, rolling onto your back. “Okay—fine. You look hot, alright? You look really, really hot. The kind of hot that makes girls stare and makes me want to push you into a closet so they can’t. Are you happy now?”

Sunghoon laughs, the sound lower, a bit softer now. His eyes crinkle slightly as he leans down, bracing a hand beside your head.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice smug but fond. “I’m pretty happy.”

You blink up at him, breath caught in your throat when you realize just how close he is. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Being hot. In my bed. Wearing that stupid shirt.”

He grins and leans in even closer. “Should I take it off then?”

Your brain short-circuits.

“I—That’s not what I meant—!”

Too late. He’s already laughing, pressing a kiss to your cheek before rolling onto his side beside you.

“I’m kidding,” he says, wrapping an arm around your waist like it’s the most natural thing. “Kinda.”

You bury your face in his chest — unfortunately, still rock solid and extremely distracting.

“…You’re sleeping in a hoodie next time.”

He hums, brushing his fingers lazily along your spine. “Only if you ask nicely.”

You groan again. This man is going to be the death of you. You’re curled into Sunghoon’s side now, half-heartedly pretending to scroll on your phone while his fingers trace lazy shapes on your back. The air in the dorm has gone warm, thick with something unspoken — a soft kind of tension that builds with every second he keeps touching you like that, like he doesn’t even realize what it’s doing to you.

But he knows. Of course he knows.

“You’re being quiet,” he murmurs, voice low and close to your ear. His breath fans against your temple. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

You bite your lip. “Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“…Okay,” you admit, turning slightly to face him. “I might be thinking about how unfairly attractive you look today.”

Sunghoon grins, tilting his head. “Only today?”

“You know what I mean,” you grumble, cheeks warm. “It’s just—three months of thinking you were all soft and lanky, and now you’re suddenly a man. You’re, like… carved.”

He laughs quietly, brushing your hair away from your face. “Is that a compliment?”

You frown. “I’m being vulnerable.”

“Okay, okay. I’m honored.” His voice softens, fingertips brushing along your jaw now. “But hey… I like that you didn’t notice right away.”

You blink. “Why?”

“Means you liked me before all this,” he says, eyes steady on yours. “Before I started lifting heavier and wearing shirts that show off a little.”

Your lips curve into something tender. “Of course I liked you before. I still like you now. Doesn’t matter if you’re in a hoodie or… that menace of an outfit.”

He chuckles, but the look in his eyes is different now. Softer. Warmer. His thumb runs along your cheekbone. “You know,” he says, voice almost a whisper, “you’re really pretty when you get flustered.”

You try to roll your eyes, but it comes out breathless. “There you go again…”

“What?”

“Being hot and sweet.”

And then it happens — the silence stretches, heavy and full of things unsaid, and the space between you shrinks with each heartbeat. His gaze drops to your lips. Yours flicker to his.

Neither of you moves right away.

But then—

Sunghoon leans in slowly, giving you time to stop him. You don’t.

Your noses brush. Your lips barely part. He pauses just a breath away, eyes half-lidded. “Can I kiss you?” he whispers, almost like he’s scared to break the moment.

You nod, heart fluttering in your chest. “Yeah. Please.”

He closes the distance, lips meeting yours in a kiss that’s slow and grounding. Nothing rushed or messy. Just warmth — his warmth — and the feeling of everything soft and right in the world. His hand cradles your face, thumb stroking your cheek, and yours curl into his shirt, fingers pressing into the firmness of his chest (and okay, maybe you let yourself enjoy it a little).

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours.

“You taste like strawberries,” he murmurs.

You laugh. “It was a smoothie.”

“Guess I’ll have to get one next time. Or just keep kissing you.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stuck with me.”

You roll your eyes fondly, but your smile gives you away. “Yeah… I am.”

tobiosbbyghorl - all rights reserved

permanent taglist: @ijustwannareadstuff20 @hoonielvv @rjssierjrie @firstclassjaylee @rikifever @morganaawriterr @daisyintherainsposts

a/n: IVE SEEN THE LOOSE PERFORMANCE AND IM DEAD LIKE AAAAA THE STEPS AND FACIAL EXPRESSIONS IS MAKING ME FEEL THINGS🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️

[barnacles34]

Book Boy

Asa x Male Reader

18+ smut

12k words

'Is this the place?' Asa stood in the open doorway, bag slung over one shoulder. Eyes moving slowly around the room. The single bed pushed against the wall, the stacks of paperbacks rising from the floorboards like uneven pillars, the one rickety wooden chair beside a small, bare table. 'It's… neat.'

'It does the job,' you reply, leaning against the doorframe.

'Just…' She stepped inside then. Her fingers traced the spine of a book on the nearest stack. Dust danced in the pillar of late afternoon light from the window. 'Not a lot of distractions.'

'Don't need many.'

'Right.' She walked to the window, peered down at the narrow alley between buildings. A single potted succulent sat on the sill. 'How long have you lived like this?'

'Awhile,' you said.

She turned back, leaning her hip against the little table. 'I heard about you.'

'Oh yeah?'

'Some people. Mentioned you.' She paused, tilted her head as if searching for the right word. 'Said you were… particular.'

'Did they.' It wasn't a question.

'Ex-girlfriends, I gathered.' A tiny smile touched her lips, disappeared. 'Sounded like maybe they didn't appreciate the… minimalist aesthetic.'

'Some people need cushions,' you offered.

'Maybe.' Her gaze was direct now, curious rather than judging. 'How long?'

'Did they last?'

She nodded, waiting.

'Not long,' you admitted. Shifted your weight. 'One left after we ordered pizza. Said the delivery box dwarved the table.'

A soft laugh escaped her. Genuine. 'You're kidding.'

'Wish I was.'

Silence settled for a moment, filled only by the low hum of the ancient refrigerator in the corner and the distant sigh of traffic. It wasn't uncomfortable, just quiet.

Then, 'Okay,' she said, pushing herself away from the table. Her movement seemed decisive. 'You got the job.'

'Just like that?' You straightened up. Confused. This was the usual spiel that got you rejected. Got you the fastlane to unemployment benefits.

'Just like that.' She smiled properly now, a flash of warmth in the dim room. 'I need a manager. Someone… different. You seem different.'

'Okay,' you said again, the word feeling inadequate. You wondered what, exactly, you'd just agreed to. 'When do I start?'

An idol manager? Of all jobs?

—

The months that followed compressed time. A montage of departure lounges, identical hotel corridors, the pre-show buzz backstage turning into the van ride afterwards. 

Through it all, there was Asa. Under the stark stage lights, catching her breath in the wings, falling asleep with her head against a tour bus window. A rhythm began. Coffee handed over wordlessly before dawn call times.

You making sure she actually ate something more substantial than candy between soundcheck and the show. Her leaving bottles of cold water beside your laptop when you were hunched over schedules late at night. Small kindnesses, noticed.

One night. Might have been London. Rain drummed against the tall hotel window, a steady, gray beat. You were burrowed deep under the thick duvet, finally feeling the bone-deep chill start to ease. Sleep was close.

The door clicked open softly. Asa. She still had her scarf on, damp from the rain, little droplets sparkling on the dark wool under the hallway light spilling in.

'Let's find some real food,' she said. Her voice was low, tired perhaps. She hadn't turned on the room light.

'Thought you were going out with the others,' your voice came out muffled by the pillow and the blankets.

'Changed my mind.' She came further into the dark room, stood near the edge of the bed. 'Come on. There's meant to be a good pub just down the road. Supposedly.'

'Asa, I think my legs might actually detach if I try to walk.'

'Just for an hour. Less, even.'

'No chance. Bed's too good.'

A soft sigh. You felt, more than saw, her put a hand flat on the duvet, near your shoulder. The weight was slight. Then her fingers curled gently into the thick fabric. A soft tug, hesitant almost. 'Please?'

'Hey now,' you mumbled, trying for firmness. 'Not exactly dressed for company under here.'

'Wouldn't be the first time I've seen skinny legs,' she countered, her voice softening into something almost teasing. Another gentle pull. 'Just food. Real food. Then sleep, promise.'

'You're pathologically persistent.'

'Is that a yes I hear?' Even in the dim light, you could imagine the hopeful tilt of her head.

—

You both learned to read the spaces between words. Shared things. A half-finished bottle of water passed back and forth backstage, slick with condensation and effort. A book appearing on a hotel nightstand, the bookmark a receipt from a local cafe, marking a passage you might like.

Small offerings. Small acceptances.

Outside a theatre after a show. The crowd was roaring. Flashbulbs exploded. Your hand found hers, a reflex. You felt her small bones and warm skin for the first time, fitting perfectly. It felt startlingly right. Then the chaos happened—shouting voices, security guards forming a barrier. Someone jostled your arms apart. Her hand was gone. The space where it had been felt abruptly, painfully cold. Your ears were still ringing from the flashes.

Whispers followed. Dark rumors that served to bury you. Phone calls behind closed doors you weren't privy to. Looks exchanged by executives that you learned to understand immediately.

You sat gripping a flat soda in a sterile hotel bar days later, staring at the melting ice, feeling the unease settle deep.

Asa appeared suddenly, sliding onto the stool beside you as if materializing from the dim light. She ordered an orange juice.

'Heard talk,' you said, keeping your eyes on your glass.

'Forget it.' She bumped her shoulder against yours. A light, fleeting contact. 'It's handled. Really.' She risked a quick, reassuring smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. 'Don't worry about it. Seriously.' She leaned a fraction closer, her voice dropping. 'No one's firing my manager. Especially not over that.'

—

Another city, another late night, another hotel couch. Rain pattered gently on the window. The TV murmured in the corner—some romantic drama you’d both lost interest in.

Her head rested on your shoulder, her arm tucked through yours, familiar now, comfortable. The silence stretched, easy. You could hear the soft tick-tock of a travel clock, the faint sound of her breathing.

'Think she'll pick him in the end?' she murmured, her voice drowsy, eyes half-closed.

'The quiet, broody one? Dollars to donuts.'

A soft 'hmm' sound vibrated against your shirt. 'You have a type.'

'They seem reliable,' you said, a small smile touching your lips as you looked down at the top of her head. The scent of her shampoo, something clean and faintly floral, apple maybe, reached you. 'Probably read Dostoevsky.'

She chuckled, a low, warm sound that made something inside you settle. She nuzzled slightly closer, a purely comfortable gesture. 'Probably.'

—

Then summer was warm and tacky. A small town tucked into rolling green hills, the air smelling of sun-baked stone, cut grass, and the pungent sweetness of lavender from nearby fields. Asa walked beside you, concentrating on her rapidly melting gelato cone. 

Her simple white sundress fluttered around her knees in the slight, warm breeze. The cheap instant camera she insisted on carrying everywhere bounced gently against her hip with each step.

It felt… good. Dangerously good.

'This is seriously amazing,' she declared, holding the precarious cone aloft for a second before taking another bite. A drip escaped onto her hand.

'Better be, for what it cost.'

'Details, details. I owe you one,' she said, deftly licking the drip from her thumb.

'You keep saying that.' How many times now? Twenty? Thirty?

'Are you keeping count?' she teased, eyes bright.

'Wouldn't dream of it,' you replied, the lie easy on your tongue.

'Good.' She nudged your arm with her shoulder, a playful bump. 'So, what glorious adventure is next on the agenda?'

'I believe my gelato budget allocation for the day has been exhausted,' you said, deadpan.

She gave you a soft push, laughing. 'Liar.' Then her fingers slipped easily between yours, cool skin against your own.

The cool metal of a ring some fan gave her brushed against your knuckles: A small, hard reminder. You closed your hand around hers anyway. It felt too right not to.

'There's supposed to be a really good independent bookstore just down this street,' she said, her voice softer now.

'Lead the way.'

'Think we can find you something that isn't Russian and relentlessly bleak for once?'

'We can always hope.'

She started walking, her grip firm but gentle, tugging you along. You let yourself follow, but deliberately kept your pace unhurried. The sun felt warm on your face, the aged sidewalk uneven beneath your feet. The street was peaceful, sleepy in the afternoon heat.

'Everything alright back there, slowpoke?' She glanced over her shoulder, her brow furrowed slightly, but she was smiling. She didn't let go of your hand.

'Just enjoying the scenic route.'

'The scenic route consisting of… cracked pavement and that one sad-looking mailbox?'

'It's got character,' you insisted.

She stopped then, turning to face you fully, pulling you gently closer by your joined hands. 'You walk slower than a turtle.'

'Respect the pace.'

A bright yellow bicycle whizzed past, its rider, a kid maybe ten years old, shouting a cheerful, unintelligible greeting. Asa waved back automatically, her smile bright and easy. She turned that smile back to you. 'People are going to start rumors, you know.'

'Let them, nothing’s gonna change.'

'My last manager,' she began, her voice dropping a little, falling back into step beside you, her shoulder brushing yours, 'he timed everything. Schedules printed in triplicate. Bathroom breaks logged.'

'Sounds like a real party.'

'He never bought me gelato,' she said, her gaze flicking down for a second to your intertwined hands. Was that a faint blush on her cheeks, or just the summer heat? 'And he definitely never just… walked.'

'His loss.’

She leaned slightly against your arm as you moved, It sent a ridiculous jolt straight to your chest. Your heart felt too loud in the quiet street.

Cicadas buzzed, a high, vibrating blanket of sound. A sound for slow afternoons.

'So, any new threats from the executioner's block this week?' you asked, trying to inject lightness into your voice.

'Friday meeting. Same old, same old.'

'And?' You held your breath without realizing it.

She squeezed your hand. 'And I told them my bookish, slow-walking manager isn't going anywhere.' She looked up at you then, her expression surprisingly serious for a fleeting moment. 'Okay?'

'Okay,' you echoed, the knot in your stomach easing slightly. It felt much more than okay.

The sky was visibly darkening at the edges now, clouds bruised purple. The air felt heavier, expectant.

'Definitely looks like rain.' 

'Smells like it now.' The metallic scent was distinct.

'Should probably hurry to that bookstore.'

'Suppose so.'

Yet, neither of you quickened your pace. Her hand felt incredibly warm, perfectly fitted in yours. The rest of the world seemed to fade slightly.

There was just the pressure of her fingers, the coming scent of summer rain, the soft scuff of your shoes on the pavement, her presence beside you.

Up ahead, a brick wall was plastered with old, faded movie posters, their edges softened and colors bled by past rains. She slowed, pointing with her free hand. 'Remember seeing that one? The weird sci-fi thing?'

'Can't say I do.'

'Liar. You fell asleep halfway through and snored.'

'Must have been riveting.' Before she could argue further, you gave her hand a gentle tug forward. 'Come on. Unless you want to test if that camera is waterproof.'

She laughed, letting you lead her past the decaying posters. Around the corner, a row of small, inviting shopfronts appeared—a bakery, a hardware store, a tiny cafe.

Your hands remained firmly clasped. It felt like the most normal, necessary thing in the world.

'There?' You pointed across the quiet street. A small, neat sign swung gently in the rising breeze, letters painted carefully: 'The Book Nook'.

She chuckled, her eyes crinkling at the corners, looking bright 'Finally.'

Inside the bookstore, you moved chaotically between shelves, gathering books in your arms. Asa wandered, trailing fingers along dusty spines. Her dress wafted as she walked, and right there, you thought, maybe, she's the most amazing person you've ever met.

She caught you staring and grinned, something beautiful, something genuine. 'Aw. You're so excited.' She giggled. 'Take your time. I like walking in the rain.'

The rain.

You'd forgotten. Letting her walk in the rain with that dress—gossamer-thin, white, creamy, sheer—was a recipe for disaster.

So you hurried.

'Why're you in a hurry?'

'It's about to rain.'

'It's already raining.'

You looked out. Lots of rain already.

‘Oh.’

…

‘Wanna run for it?’

She said sure with an eager smile.

So you pressed softly on the glass door, waiting for the moment, listening to the faint droplets tik-tik-tik against the door.

‘Run for it Asa.’

You opened the door, and she started running. And you followed. The rain was plastering your face, its earthy smell invading your nostrils, but you had eyes for Asa. Only Asa. Maybe you could’ve ran faster than her, outpace her, await her at the car—but what would be the fun in that?

She seemed to be squealing. You didn’t notice, you were staring at her, the way she ran, the way the dress outlined her.

Before you knew it, you were at the car with Asa—the both of you entered the backseat.

‘Holy shit.’ You say.

‘That was like… too much rain.’ Asa giggled.

You looked at Asa, the first question, weird one: ‘Did you even have makeup on?’ She fixed her hair, wet from rain, ‘Makeup has advanced more than you know. But thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.’

‘Weird question.’

‘I know.’

‘Anyway, why did we enter the backseat?’

‘I’m cold.’

‘The AC works better in the passenger seat.’

Then Asa softly moved over to you, and wrapped her shivery arms around you. ‘It’s because of this, dummy.’ Then her arms tightened, and you could feel, truly, how her body shivered, the traces of warmth on the surface of her skin; the way she smelt, of honeydew, of earth’s rain; then the way she felt:

Her skin was cold-to-the-touch when you finally held her. This time, her touch felt electric: the way her finger just grazed along your palm was already too much.

She wanted you.

You wanted her.

'I've always liked you.' She said.

You hugged her closer, giving her warmth, feeling the rain-kissed dress warm up against your skin. Her finger traced patterns on your palm, sometimes pressing deeper, waiting for your reaction.

You were too busy pressed up against her—feeling the hot skin of her back, inhaling her scent. She was inlaid across your lap, the thin dress more inspiration than prevention.

'You're so warm.' A whimper. Thin, meek.

'Keep hugging me.' You breathed back, merely a whisper as your hands caressed her. She'd make these sounds, these no-good ones, breathing right into your ear as her thin arms looped around your neck.

Then you kissed her.

She squealed, soft-like, then poked your side teasingly, then her hands curled in your hair.

When you pulled back, her lips chased yours for a fraction before she caught herself.

'Oh.' Asa touched her lips with cold fingers. Pink spread across her cheeks like watercolor.

'Yeah.' Your voice came out rough. You cleared your throat. 'Oh.'

She buried her face in your shoulder. 'Stop looking at me like that.'

'Like what?'

'Like... that.'

'Very specific.'

Her laugh vibrated against your collarbone. 'Shut up.'

A shiver ran through her. You pulled her closer, wrapping both arms around her middle. The rain had soaked through her dress, through your shirt, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

'Cold?'

'Mm.' She nuzzled deeper. 'Not really.'

'Liar.'

'Am not.' Her teeth chattered slightly.

'The AC—'

'Don't you dare.' Her fingers curled into your shirt. 'Stay.'

You stayed. The rain drummed against the windows, a steady rhythm that matched your heartbeat. Or maybe your heartbeat matched it. You weren't sure anymore.

'Your books got wet,' she mumbled.

'Worth it.'

She lifted her head. 'Yeah?'

'Yeah.'

Her eyes were soft, questioning. You watched a drop of water trace down her temple.

'You're staring again.'

'Can't help it.'

'Book boy's getting smooth.'

'Don't call me that right now.'

She grinned. 'Why not... book boy?'

You pinched her side. She squeaked, squirming in your lap.

'Evil,' she said. 'Pure evil.'

'Says the one soaking my clothes.'

'You volunteered.'

'Did I?'

She nodded solemnly. 'The moment you hired me.'

'Pretty sure it was the other way around.'

'Details.' She waved a hand dismissively, then shivered again.

You rubbed her back, feeling the goosebumps through the thin fabric. 'We should really—'

'Five more minutes.' She pressed closer. 'Just five.'

You breathed her in. Rain and perfume and something uniquely Asa. 'Okay.'

'Okay?'

'Five minutes.'

She hummed contentedly. 'Then maybe five more after that.'

'Asa...'

'What?' Innocent eyes. Too innocent. 'I'm very cold.'

'You're impossible.'

'You like it.'

You did. God help you, you really did.

And for a few minutes, or 10, or maybe even 20, you sat there embracing Asa’s meek figure, with the knowledge that she liked you.

—

You were each other's sweet torture, you realized that now. Every shared glance became a test of restraint. Like that time she pulled you into the maintenance closet, pressed a ghost of a kiss against your lips, then whispered promises that made your collar too tight.

Later that night, you found her waiting at the door. You slipped inside, waited for the heavy door to click shut.

'Took you long enough.' She held her arms out, expectant.

'Some of us actually work.' You fell into her embrace.

Her lips found your cheekbone. 'Making excuses now, you monster.'

'Monster?' You lifted her up.

'Absolutely.' But her hands linked behind your neck, and she tilted down to catch your lips.

Soft and warm and perfect—a sweet prison you never wanted to escape. You stumbled toward the bedroom, knocking against furniture, probably bruising your shin, but none of that mattered. What mattered was the way Asa sighed against your mouth, the way her fingers traced patterns in your hair, the way she fit against you like she was made for this.

The suite was nice—couch, kitchenette, things you'd normally notice. But right now all you could focus on was the warmth of her skin, the sound of her breath, the weight of her in your arms.

You were reserved for the next few hours.

Really, you were reserved for the foreseeable future.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

—

The smell hit you first—something sizzling. You found Asa in the kitchen, spatula in hand, wearing one of your old t-shirts like a dress.

'Since when do you cook?'

'Since forever.' She didn't look up from the pan. 'You just never asked.'

'Wouldn't have pegged you for domestic.'

'Says the man with three different coffee brewing methods.'

You moved behind her, peered over her shoulder. The rice popped and sizzled, red and fragrant. 'Looks good.'

'Tastes better.' She bumped back against you. 'If someone would let me focus.'

'Am I distracting?' Your lips found her neck.

'Mm.' She tilted her head, giving you better access. 'Very.'

'Should I stop?'

'Don't you dare.' But she moved the pan to the back burner, turned down the heat.

You spun her around. The counter was just the right height—she sat on it, pulled you close by your shirt.

'The rice will burn,' you murmured against her lips.

'Don't care.' Her legs wrapped around your waist. 'Kiss me.'

So you did. She tasted like kimchi and coffee, and something sweet you couldn't place. Her hands found your hair, tugged just right.

—

Later in the day, you were splayed across the couch, and Asa snuggled up close to you.

‘What’s gonna happen after the tour?’

‘Nothing’ll change, Asa.’

‘You’ll still come over?’

‘I’ll try. But you’d be in the dorm.’

‘We can go somewhere in secret.’

‘Hotels? That’s expensive, Asa.’

‘I mean I can pay, I have money. Or the, you know, 3 hour hotel rooms.’

‘Love hotels?’ 

Her face flushed up, ‘Maybe.’

You didn’t answer at first. You looked at her, then at the ceiling, like it might hold the right response in a water stain.

Asa’s fingers were toying with the hem of her borrowed shirt—your shirt—like she hadn’t just upended the atmosphere with two syllables. Love hotels.

You cleared your throat. ‘They charge by the hour, right?’

‘That’s… kind of the point,’ she said, not quite meeting your eyes, but grinning all the same. Her cheeks had that telltale flush again, the one that crept up slow then stayed.

You shifted, suddenly hyper-aware of the way her thigh pressed against yours. 'You saying you want to rent one for the ambiance?'

‘Sure. Mood lighting. Themed wallpaper. Maybe a heart-shaped jacuzzi if we’re lucky.’

‘Classy.’

‘I thought so.’

You laughed, short and quiet. She nudged your knee with hers. You looked at her then—really looked—and the idea bloomed, unwanted and vivid, in the back of your mind. Asa in one of those ridiculous hotel robes. Her hair still damp from the shower. You, trying not to stare. Trying and failing.

You blinked hard.

‘You're thinking about it, aren't you?’ she said. Not accusatory, just amused.

You scratched the back of your neck. ‘Thinking is free.’

‘Mmhm.’

You paused. Words gathered, jostled. You said, finally, ‘I didn’t… we haven’t… you know.’

‘Had sex?’ she supplied, way too casually, then turned her face into the crook of your shoulder, like even saying it embarrassed her.

You swallowed. Nodded. 'Yeah.'

She was quiet a beat. Then, softly: ‘Why not?’

The air shifted again. Serious now. Too still.

You tried for honesty, the kind that didn’t dress itself up too much. ‘Because if we did… I don’t know. I might fall in.’

She lifted her head, frowning. ‘Fall in?’

You gestured vaguely between you. ‘Into all this. Too deep. I’m your manager, Asa. There’s lines. I don’t know what happens if I… if we… cross them.’

She looked at you for a long time. Then, with a soft snort, said, ‘You think this hasn’t already crossed lines?’

You opened your mouth. Closed it again. She wasn’t wrong.

‘You’ve seen me cry after bad interviews,’ she continued. ‘You’ve slept next to me in tiny green rooms with broken heaters. You’ve watched me eat an entire packet of sour gummies for dinner and still defended me to the label.’

‘It was impressive,’ you offered.

‘It was pathetic,’ she said, grinning. ‘But you didn’t make me feel pathetic. You made me feel… okay. Like it was okay to be tired and weird and hungry at 2am.’

You were staring at her again. Couldn’t help it.

She touched your wrist, featherlight. 'So yeah. I’ve thought about it. The… other stuff. But I figured if we were gonna, it had to be when it didn’t feel like a risk.'

You nodded slowly. That sounded right. That sounded like her.

‘Still… love hotels, huh?’

She groaned, faceplanting into your chest. ‘I knew you were gonna circle back.’

‘You started it.’

‘It was a joke! Mostly.’

‘Mostly?’

She peeked up at you, eyes glinting. ‘Eighty percent joke. Twenty percent… we’d have fun.’

‘Fun?’

‘Yeah. Dumb, cheesy, stupid fun. Mirrors on the ceiling kind of fun.’

You tried not to laugh. Failed. ‘God, you’re dangerous.’

‘I’m adorable,’ she said, with a mock huff.

‘Also that.’

Her hand curled around your arm again, comfortably. Like it belonged there. You didn’t pull away.

After a while, she said, ‘So… no love hotels. For now.’

‘For now.’

‘But I’m not giving up.’

‘I’d be offended if you did.’

She smiled into your shirt. ‘It’s a weird thing, you know?’

‘What is?’

‘How much I like you. Even when you’re being all serious and manager-y. Even when you say things like “logistics.”’

You sighed. ‘I only said it twice.’

‘Once is too many.’

You reached over, tangled your fingers gently in her hair.

—

The door opened and she was already kissing you.

Just a quick one, soft and close-mouthed, but it said everything. She lingered, her arms around your neck, fingers slipping into your hair. You’d seen her just last night.

Still— ‘I missed you,’ she mumbled against your cheek.

‘It’s been twelve hours.’

‘Too long.’

You set the peaches on the counter without looking. One hand stayed around her waist.

‘You okay?’ you asked, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

‘Now? Yeah. Now I’m peachy.’

You groaned. ‘That was awful.’

She smiled. ‘Come slice the fruit, whiner.’

You did, methodically. Thin wedges, juices pooling on the plate. She leaned her hip against the counter, watching, towel still perched loosely on her head, damp strands peeking out. She looked soft, undone, like someone who belonged to a slow morning.

You brought the plate over and she tugged you toward the couch. You ended up side by side under the throw blanket, legs tangled. She fed you the first slice. Then leaned in for a kiss.

Peach-sweet.

‘Still missed you,’ she said again, like it needed repeating.

You offered her a slice in return. She took it delicately, then pecked your lips.

Another bite, another kiss. You let the silence hold, warm and quiet.

You ran your thumb along her knee, slow. She leaned into you, head tucked under your chin. ‘You smell good.’

Then, softly, reply: ‘I’ll have to go back to Korea. For a week or two. Maybe three.’

She stilled.

You felt it—her body going quiet. Still pressed against you, but something changed.

‘When?’ she asked, voice too even.

‘Couple days.’

A pause. Then: ‘Don’t spread yourself thin, okay?’

You glanced down.

Her eyes were still on the peach slice she held.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know. New city, old friends. Late nights. People who might not know you’ve got… someone.’

You blinked. Then looked at her, really looked.

Asa. Slightly pink-cheeked, lips sugar-wet from fruit. Trying not to sound hurt.

You set the plate down on the coffee table and turned to her fully. Lifted her chin with a fingertip.

‘You think I’d forget?’

She shrugged. ‘Not forget. Just… get swept up.’

You kissed her again. Longer this time. Slower.

When you pulled back, she was quiet.

You said, ‘This is a relationship, isn’t it.’

It wasn’t even a question.

She smiled, barely. A breath of a thing. Then nodded.

‘Yeah. I guess it is.’

Another kiss. Sappy, drawn-out, peach-flavored.

You didn’t need to say anything else.

—

The conference room was cold. Overly air-conditioned in that way corporate places always are, like someone thought discomfort = professionalism. Rows of black suits. PowerPoint slides with bullet points so dry you could sand wood with them.

You sat stiffly, tie a little too tight, nodding along while some VP in rectangular glasses spoke about “strategic alignment.” Whatever that meant.

Your phone buzzed quietly in your pocket.

You didn’t check it immediately. That would’ve been rude. But it buzzed again. And again.

Eventually, during the fake coffee break where everyone clustered around silver urns of burnt liquid, you slipped your phone out.

1:43 PM have you eaten?

1:44 PM Not really.

1:44 PM ??? dude why not

1:45 PM Was stuck in a panel about supply chain integration. They served sandwiches the size of poker chips.

1:46 PM that’s not food that’s a cry for help u need me i would’ve made u like actual rice or something

1:47 PM I would sell this entire conference for a bowl of your rice.

1:47 PM omg stop u say the weirdest sweet things i’m blushing now ew

1:48 PM It’s a gift.

1:48 PM ur gift is being emotionally deranged and underfed amazing

1:49 PM I aim for consistency.

1:56 PM ok wait

1:58 PM [photo attachment]

1:59 PM Did you just—

1:59 PM 😊

2:00 PM That hoodie looks very good on you.

2:00 PM looks better when i’m not wearin anything under 👀

2:01 PM You're driving me crazy.

2:01 PM good. u should be thinking abt me while ur surrounded by all those old men in ties bet they don’t got pics like this

2:02 PM [photo attachment]

2:03 PM ...I’m adjusting in my chair now.

2:03 PM lmaooo ur welcome

2:03 PM I hate you.

2:04 PM sureeee but ok i’ll give u a break

2:04 PM Thank you. Appreciate your generosity in these dark times.

2:05 PM anything for my emotionally deranged rice boy 🫶

2:06 PM See you soon?

2:06 PM yuh don’t make me wait too long or i’ll send a video next time 😌

2:06 PM Noted. Flying home immediately.

2:07 PM lol ur ridiculous safe flight, loser also EAT

2:08 PM Yes ma’am.

—

You didn’t even take off your shoes when you got in. Just dropped your bag by the desk, loosened your tie, sat on the edge of the hotel bed like the air had thickened with gravity. The buzz of travel still lived under your skin—artificial light, too much air conditioning, stale coffee that never quite tasted right. But the silence helped. So did the faint promise of her.

Your phone lit up. Incoming Call: Asa

You answered on the first ring.

‘Hey,’ she said, voice already a balm.

‘Hey yourself.’

‘Did you eat?’

You rolled your eyes. ‘You and this food agenda.’

‘Answer the question.’

‘Fine. Yes. Eventually.’

‘What was it?’

‘Questionable noodles from a place with too many neon signs and one too many “z”s in the name.’

‘Oof.’ You could hear her make a face. ‘Okay, yeah, I forgive you. That sounds tragic.’

‘Thought you’d appreciate the suffering.’

‘I always do.’ A pause. ‘So… are you lying down yet?’

You did, one shoe still on, the other kicked halfway under the bed. ‘Yeah.’

‘Lights off?’

‘Just dim.’

‘Shirt?’

‘Still on.’

‘Hmph. We’ll fix that.’

You laughed softly, eyes closing as her voice washed over you. ‘You always get bossy this time of night?’

‘Only when I miss you. And when you’re being particularly slow.’

‘Mm. Sorry, manager mode doesn’t turn off easy.’

‘Well, lucky for you…’ A rustle. Fabric shifting. ‘...I’m in bed too.’

Your heart bumped at the sudden hush in her tone.

‘And what are you wearing?’ you asked, mock-formal.

‘You mean right now?’

‘Don’t play coy.’

She chuckled, voice warm like candlelight. ‘Your hoodie.’

‘Just the hoodie?’

There was the faintest pause. ‘You tell me.’

God. You swallowed. ‘Is it… zipped?’

‘Nope.’

You exhaled. ‘Fuck.’

‘Language,’ she teased. Then softer: ‘Missed your voice.’

‘You said that already.’

‘Still true.’ Her voice curled closer, like she was beside you, whispering. ‘You sound tired. That good kind. The one where I wish I was there.’

‘You’re kind of always here,’ you murmured.

‘Am I?’

‘Yeah. It’s dumb. I see a dumb pink drink at Starbucks and think of you. I hear a bad pop song in a cab, and it’s suddenly about you. It’s annoying.’

‘God.’ Her voice dropped. ‘Say more stupid things like that.’

‘I would,’ you said, ‘but I think I’d rather hear what you’re doing right now.’

Another rustle. You pictured her on that bed. Hair messy, half-lidded. Bare thighs and soft sighs.

‘Thinking about you,’ she said, unashamed. ‘Touching the edge of the hoodie. Just the hem. It’s so soft.’

‘Is it now.’

‘Yeah.’ A breath. ‘Can I… ask you something kind of dumb?’

‘Always.’

‘Have you ever… like—done this over the phone?’

Your mouth quirked. ‘Phone sex?’

‘Don’t say it like that.’ She groaned. ‘Now I’m shy.’

‘Too late,’ you murmured. ‘You brought it up.’

‘Technically, you did with the “what are you wearing” opener.’

You laughed, throat dry. ‘Okay. Guilty.’

A pause. Then she said, quieter, ‘I want to.’

Your stomach tightened. ‘Yeah?’

‘I keep picturing you lying there. Still in your dress shirt. Probably frowning at the ceiling.’

‘I was.’

‘You’re always so composed. So good. Until you’re not.’

You adjusted your position on the bed. Your jeans suddenly didn’t fit right.

‘Tell me what you’d do,’ she said.

You exhaled. ‘To you?’

‘Mhm.’

‘I’d start slow. Undo the zipper of that hoodie. Just enough to see the skin beneath. Press my nose against your shoulder. A soft bite too.’

She made a small, shaky sound. Encouragement.

‘Then I’d tell you to leave it half-zipped. Just like that. Because I want to see you in my hoodie. Want to see how little else you’re wearing underneath.’

She whimpered. ‘God, keep going.’

‘I’d kiss down your neck. Right where your collarbone meets your shoulder. Feel you squirm under me. My hands—’ you shifted, groaning under your breath, ‘—would slide under the hoodie, find your waist. Feel how warm your skin is.’

‘And?’ Her voice was tighter now, breathier. You imagined her biting her lower lip, one hand between her legs.

‘And I’d drop to my knees,’ you said. ‘I’d press kisses down your stomach. Trail down. Really love every part down. Then, I’d look up at you from between your thighs. Make you wait a second. Just enough to make your legs twitch, make you squirm under my hands.’

‘Oh, fuck,’ she whispered.

‘You’d be dripping,’ you added, voice darker now, lower. ‘Wouldn’t you.’

She breathed out a yes, broken and small. ‘Would beg for your mouth.’

‘Wouldn’t even make you wait long. Just enough. Then I’d lick—slow and flat. Feel you twitch. Hear you whine. My fingers would dig into your thighs. Hold you still as you convulse.’

‘God,’ she breathed.

‘You’d be worse,’ you said. ‘Your hands in my hair. Pulling. That breathless way you say my name. Every second deciding whether to stare at me eating you or look at the ceiling in euphoria’

‘Fuck, I’m—I’m close—’

‘Don’t come yet.’

She whimpered, frustrated.

‘Not until I say. Not until I’ve—’ You stopped. Smiled. ‘Actually…’

‘What?’

‘Would you get on your knees for me?’

A pause.

‘I want to hear it,’ you said.

Another beat. Then, soft as a secret: ‘Yes.’

‘Open your mouth for me. Put your wet fingers into your mouth.’

She inhaled sharply.

You adjusted your grip on the phone. ‘I’d undo my belt. Let you see how hard I am for you. Make you ask.'

‘Please,’ she said, immediately.

‘Good girl.’

A quiet whimper, something other than the whimper, something wet.

‘I’d feed it to you slow. Just the head first, resting on your tongue, all heavy. Let you get used to the weight on your tongue.’

She gasped.

‘Then deeper. Let you feel my pulsing erection, down and down. Until your lips hit my hips.’

‘Oh my god—’

‘You’d gag a little. But take it. I’d hold you there, Asa. You’ll take it so fucking well. So so fucking well.’

There was a choked sound on the line.

‘You doing it?’ you asked, softer now.

‘Mhm.’ Barely a whisper. ‘Fingers.’

‘Fucking hell.’

‘I want you inside me so bad.’

‘You’ll have me,’ you promised. ‘Next time I see you, I’m bending you over that hotel desk. Hoodie on. Nothing underneath.’

She moaned. ‘Please.’

‘You’ll take every inch. You won’t move. Your legs wouldn’t touch the ground.’ You were almost growling at the phone.

She whimpered again, high and desperate. ‘I’m—can I—?’

‘Now,’ you breathed. ‘Come now.’

She shattered on the line. You heard it. The breathless rush, the sound of her fingering herself to completion, the sound of her palm slapping fabric, her cry stifled into the pillow.

You listened like it was scripture.

After a long, delicious silence, her voice came back. A little broken. A little breathless. You heard her turn in the bed.

‘Oh my god. That was so hot.’

You chuckled, still catching your own breath. ‘You think?’

‘But also…’ she added, voice mock stern, ‘conflict of interest.’

‘Oh?’

‘I’m your artist. You’re my manager. And now I know how you’d ruin me.’

You grinned. ‘Mutual ruination. Very professional.’

‘Extremely HR-friendly.’

‘You’re gonna be the death of me.’

—

The days flew by much faster than you expected—mostly, because of Asa’s calls.

‘I forgot we could video call.’ Asa giggled, the heat of the moment got to you both yesterday, and the rest was history.

‘Was it effective?’

‘God yes. But now we can see each other. Look at you, button-up, in your suit.’ She breathed softly.

Damp hair, bare face, Asa, oh Asa, the most beautiful person in the world.

‘Asa.’ ‘Yes?’ Her voice was soft now, still holding that trace of breathlessness, a slight echo of the intensity from moments before. The video feed showed her face, slightly flushed, hair mussed around her temples, eyes wide and maybe a little shy now that you were seeing each other right after.

‘Just… yes.’ You let out a slow breath. Looked away from the screen for a second, gathering yourself. The artificial hotel lighting felt suddenly too bright. ‘Seeing you like this. After…’ You trailed off.

A small smile touched her lips. She pulled the blanket—or maybe it was the duvet—up slightly higher, just under her chin. ‘After you painted quite the picture, Manager-nim?’

You chuckled, low and rough. ‘Something like that. Still trying to reconcile the HR violations with the… visual confirmation.’

She laughed then, a real laugh, warm and slightly shaky. ‘You’re ridiculous. Look at you. All serious suit.’

‘Maybe,’ you admitted, running a hand over your jaw. The stubble rasped against your palm. ‘This feels… new. Seeing you right now.’

‘Yeah?’ She tilted her head, a damp curl falling across her cheek. ‘Good new or ‘oh-god-what-have-we-done’ new?’

‘Definitely good new,’ you said immediately. Too quickly, maybe. ‘Just… potent.’ You looked back at the screen, letting your eyes trace the line of her shoulder where it peeked above the covers. ‘So. Still rocking the legendary hoodie?’

Her blush deepened slightly. She glanced down as if confirming it for herself. ‘Might be.’

‘Might be?’ you echoed, letting a teasing note creep into your voice. ‘You holding out on me?’

‘Maybe I graduated,’ she countered, though her eyes glinted with amusement. ‘Maybe I’m wearing a ballgown under here. Maybe you bought me a ballgown and forgot about it.’

‘Somehow I doubt that.’

‘You wound me with your lack of faith.’ She shifted, the movement making the camera wobble slightly. Then, with deliberate slowness, she lowered the blanket just enough to reveal the soft grey fabric of your hoodie pulled low over her collarbones. The zipper was still halfway down, just like you’d imagined. ‘See? Loyal customer.’

Your breath hitched. ‘Okay. Yeah. Still looks… objectively good.’

‘Objectively?’ she repeated, raising an eyebrow. ‘Just objective appreciation, huh?’

‘Trying my best,’ you said, though your voice felt thick. ‘Doesn't mean my brain isn’t currently short-circuiting trying to imagine peeling it off you slowly when I get back.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Her voice dropped again, that low, intimate curl returning. ‘Tell me more about these return plans. Distract me from the fact I just basically melted into a puddle on the phone.’

You leaned back against the headboard, phone held steady now. The formality of the suit felt absurd. ‘First thing? Definitely losing the tie. Probably the moment the hotel door clicks shut behind me.’

‘A vital first step.’

‘Then,’ you continued, picturing it, letting the images form sharp and clear, ‘I find you. Wherever you are. Kitchen, couch, curled up on the bed looking annoyingly beautiful and innocent after driving me crazy from miles away.’

‘Annoyingly beautiful?’

‘You heard me. And I walk straight to you. No detours. No checking emails. Just… you.’ You paused, letting the word hang there. ‘And I kiss you. Properly. Not a quick peck. One of those long, slow ones that makes you forget what day it is.’

She smiled, a soft, genuine curve of her lips. ‘I like those days.’

‘Me too. Then, yeah. The hoodie. It’s gotta go. Slowly. Finger by finger up the zipper. Or maybe I just hook my fingers under the hem and pull it up over your head, tangle your hair a bit. See what you’ve got on underneath. Or what you don’t.’

She swallowed, visible on the screen. ‘And… what if there’s not much?’

‘Even better,’ you murmured. ‘Then it’s just skin. Yours against mine. I’d back you up against the nearest wall. Just to feel you pressed against me, finally. Kiss down your neck again, right there…’ you touched your own collarbone, ‘…where I know you like it. Feel you shiver.’

‘You remember,’ she whispered.

‘I remember everything.’ You shifted on the bed, the movement involuntary. ‘Then maybe the couch. Or the bed. Doesn't matter. Just tangled up. Lazy kisses. Hands exploring. None of that rushed tour bus hiding-in-corners stuff. Just… slow. Taking our time. Making up for all these miles.’

‘Slow sounds good,’ she breathed. ‘Really good.’

‘And food,’ you added, lightening the tone slightly. ‘Actual food. Maybe Pizza Hut. We can even leave the box on the floor this time. Break all my minimalist rules.’

She laughed, the sound like music. ‘Look at you, growing.’

‘Only for you.’ You met her eyes on the screen again. The joking facade faded. ‘Just… being close. That’s the plan. Getting back, shutting the door, and just being close to you. Everything else is details.’

‘Good details, though,’ she murmured, her gaze soft, affectionate. ‘Really, really good details.’

‘Yeah,’ you agreed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that had nothing to do with the hotel heating. ‘They are.’

A comfortable silence settled for a moment, filled only by the faint hum of electronics. Her eyes stayed on yours, a quiet understanding passing between the screens.

‘You’re staring again,’ she said softly, breaking the spell.

‘Can’t help it,’ you replied honestly. ‘Hard not to, even through a screen.’

‘Book boy’s getting dangerously smooth.’

‘Don’t call me that right now.’

She grinned, that familiar flash of mischief returning. ‘Why not… book boy?’

‘Because right now,’ you said, ‘all I can think about is getting home and doing things that aren’t found in any book I own.’

Her breath hitched audibly. ‘Okay,’ she whispered. ‘Message received. Loud and clear.’ She pulled the blanket back up slightly, mock-primly. ‘Guess I should… conserve my energy then.’

‘Good idea,’ you said, though the thought of her conserving energy by herself, wearing your hoodie, sent another jolt through you. ‘See you soon, Asa.’

‘Soon,’ she promised, her eyes holding yours for a second longer before the screen went dark.

You dropped the phone onto the duvet beside you, staring up at the textured ceiling. Soon couldn’t come fast enough. The sterile hotel room suddenly felt infinitely emptier. You thought about rice, kimchi, the smell of her shampoo, the weight of her head on your shoulder, the feel of her hand in yours. Simple things. Essential things. Heaven, you thought, surprised again. A quiet, waiting kind of heaven. And maybe, just maybe, a few HR violations when you got there.

—

The days went by surprisingly fast. You were already on the plane. A medium amount of homicidal executives. A medium amount of threats on your job. All in all, a successful trip for training. Though you would’ve liked to stay by Asa’s side. 

The flight was much longer than the week. Each hour dragged longer and longer. Like Zeno’s paradox. A smear of lethargy getting slower and slower until it didn’t move anymore. Of course, hyperbole considered, the flight still went by, or time went on, either of the two.

You landed. The air outside the terminal felt thick, sticky, holding onto the day's heat like a damp towel. Another city. Didn't matter much which one. She was here. That felt like the only direction that mattered.

The taxi window fogged easy. You drew a lazy line through the condensation with one finger. Thinking about rain, maybe. Wet pavement. Steamed-up backseats. The memory felt warm, close.

Check-in was smooth, anonymous. The key card felt cool in your palm. Same floor. Room across. Thank the booking gods, or whoever managed those details now. Probably still you, indirectly. The elevator hummed low, a familiar vibration, a sound that meant transit, waiting. You watched the numbers climb, feeling slower than they looked.

Down the hallway. Heavy carpet swallowed the sound of your footsteps, mostly. Soft thuds against some muted, swirling pattern you didn’t register. Your door: 512. Hers, across: 513.

A crack of light spilled from under her door. And jammed in the opening, holding it ajar, was a shoe. One of her boots. Casual.

You nudged the door wider with a fingertip, gentle. There she was. Curled not on the bed, but in one of those upholstered armchairs hotels always seem to have. Head tilted against the wingback, mouth slightly parted. Fast asleep. Still dressed from the day—jeans, soft-looking band shirt. Makeup mostly intact, maybe a faint smudge beneath one eye. Breathing soft and even.

Must've waited up. Or tried to.

You bent down, quietly picked up the stray boot. Set it beside its partner, near the wall. Turned back.

‘You’re here.’

Her voice was soft, thick with sleep, but definitely awake. Before you could answer, or fully turn, she was unfolding herself from the chair, moving quickly across the small space between you. Her arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you tight against her. Her cheek pressed into the fabric of your travel-rumpled shirt.

‘I missed you,’ she mumbled into your back. She breathed you in, a long, deliberate inhale. ‘God, I missed you so much.’

You stood still for a moment, letting the reality of it sink in. The weight of her, the warmth. The faint scent of her shampoo mixed with something else—hotel soap, maybe fatigue. You covered her hands with yours where they were clasped at your stomach.

‘Hey,’ you said, voice low. ‘Missed you too.’

She squeezed tighter. ‘Took you long enough.’ Still muffled.

‘Traffic,’ you offered. ‘And, you know. Strategic alignment meetings.’

She made a soft scoffing sound against your spine. ‘Don’t remind me.’ She loosened her grip slightly, enough for you to turn around within her embrace. Her eyes were hazy, still clouded with sleep, but focused on yours now. A tiny, tired smile played on her lips. ‘You look wrecked.’

‘Feel it.’ You brushed a stray strand of raven hair back from her temple. Her skin felt warm. ‘You didn’t have to wait up.’

‘Tried not to,’ she admitted, leaning her forehead against your chest. ‘Failed. Fell asleep in the chair like an old lady.’

‘Very dignified.’

‘Shut up.’ She nudged you playfully. ‘Did you eat? Please tell me you ate something that wasn’t from a vending machine.’

‘Questionable airport sandwich,’ you confessed. ‘Does that count?’

She groaned, tilting her head back to look up at you properly. ‘Tragic. Utterly tragic. My manager, starving.’

‘Suffering for my art. Or yours, rather.’ You smiled down at her, a soft peck on her lips. ‘Pretty sure falling asleep fully clothed in an armchair is also tragic.’

‘It’s method,’ she insisted, though her eyelids fluttered. ‘Preparing for the inevitable tour bus naps.’ She tugged you further into the room, towards the unmade bed. ‘Come on. Lie down before you fall down. You can tell me all about the horrors of corporate synergy later.’

‘Only if you promise not to fall asleep mid-sentence again.’

‘No promises, book boy.’ She yawned, wide and uninhibited, then grinned, teeth flashing briefly. ‘But I’ll try. Mostly.’

You let her pull you over. The room felt suddenly small, contained, just the two of you in the dim lamp light. Her hand felt warm, fitting easily back into yours, like it had never left. Heaven, you thought. This quiet, hand-held kind. No rain required. Just her.

She steered you towards the rumpled landscape of the queen-sized bed. ‘Okay, ditch the jacket at least. You look like you’re about to audit the mini-bar.’

You shrugged out of it, letting it fall onto the back of the armchair she’d vacated. You eyed the bed, then glanced back towards the door, towards the silent hallway and your own room waiting just across it. ‘Maybe I should—’

‘Nope.’ She cut you off, shaking her head firmly. Her hair swayed. ‘Don’t even finish that sentence. You’re not going anywhere.’

‘Asa,’ you started, trying for reasonable. ‘We have separate rooms for a reason. Protocols. Appearances.’

She flopped dramatically onto the bed, bouncing slightly. ‘Protocols went out the window somewhere around “feed it to me slow,” didn't they?’ You felt a hot rush along your cheeks. She patted the space beside her. ‘Besides, who’s gonna know? The Hotel Room Police? Are they doing spot checks tonight?’

A small laugh escaped you. ‘You’re ridiculous.’

‘And you’re tired,’ she countered, her gaze softening just a fraction. ‘And probably need a shower. And definitely need sleep. Which you won’t get if you’re pacing around your sterile little room wondering if I’m okay over here.’

You couldn't argue with that last part. Remembering the phone calls, the things said, the barriers evaporated line by line over bad connections and late nights… staying across the hall felt suddenly artificial. Pointless, even.

‘Fine,’ you conceded, sitting on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under your weight. ‘But if someone from the label does a surprise inspection at 3 AM, you’re doing the talking.’

‘Deal.’ She grinned. ‘I’ll tell them you were giving me emergency vocal coaching. Very, very quiet coaching.’

You ran a hand through your hair. ‘Need to brush my teeth first. Didn't even unpack that far.’

‘Bathroom’s through there.’ She waved vaguely towards a closed door. ‘Think there’s a spare toothbrush in the little kit thingy they leave. Unless you’re bringing your own extensive dental hygiene setup?’

‘Just the basics.’ You stood up, heading for the bathroom. Inside, the light flickered on. Standard hotel fare. Tiny soaps, neatly folded towels. Her makeup bag sat open on the counter, spilling brushes and palettes. You found the complimentary kit, tore open the stiff plastic around the toothbrush. As you brushed, you noticed her worn blue toothbrush sitting casually in the holder next to where you placed the new one. A small, stupidly domestic sight. Like sharing a coffee cup, or leaving a book on a nightstand. Small offerings. Small acceptances.

When you came back out, she’d kicked off her jeans and burrowed under the duvet, leaving just her head and shoulders visible. She watched you approach the bed, eyes tracking your movements.

‘Comfy?’ you asked, pulling back the covers on your side.

‘Getting there. Are you a duvet hog? I need to know upfront.’

‘Never.’ You slid in, the sheets cool against your skin. You stayed on your side, a respectable distance between you. For about five seconds.

She immediately rolled closer, bumping her shoulder against yours gently. ‘Liar. You look like the type who builds a pillow fortress.’

‘Only when threatened.’ You turned onto your side to face her. The lamp cast soft shadows across her features. Her makeup looked smudged now, softer. Tired, but content.

‘Am I threatening?’ she whispered, voice playful.

‘Constantly.’

Her lips curved. ‘Good.’ She scooted a fraction closer, close enough now that you could feel the warmth radiating off her. Close enough to smell the lingering trace of her perfume mixed with the clean scent of hotel sheets. ‘This is nice, isn't it?’

‘Nice isn't the word I’d use.’

‘Oh yeah? What word would you use, book boy?’ Her eyes were bright, teasing, even in the low light.

You thought for a moment. ‘Finally,’ you said, finally. Quietly.

Her teasing expression faded. She reached out, her fingers lightly tracing the line of your jaw. ‘Yeah,’ she murmured. ‘That sounds about right.’

Silence settled again, comfortable this time. Just the faint hum of the air conditioning, the soft sound of her breathing close by, god, it sounded so good. Her eyes stayed on yours, a steady, curious gaze.

‘You gonna stare at me all night?’ you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

‘Maybe,’ she replied, equally quiet.

Your own eyelids felt heavy. The travel, the tension, the release of finally being here, with her. It was all catching up. But you kept your eyes open, looking back at her. At the curve of her cheek, the slight parting of her lips, the way a stray strand of hair fell across her forehead.

‘Good night. ’ she mumbled, her own eyes starting to drift closed.

‘You too.’

Her hand slipped down from your jaw, her fingers finding yours under the covers, lacing together loosely. A simple, grounding connection. You watched her face relax fully into sleep, her breathing deepening slightly. Even then, you kept looking for another moment, fixing the image in your mind. Asa, asleep beside you. Not across the hall, not miles away, not just a voice on the phone. Here. Necessary.

Finally, your own eyes closed. The darkness felt warm, welcome. Shared.

You opened your eyes, saw Asa first, breathing softly, eyes closed, lips almost protruding: cute. You looked around, the sheer curtain brought tumbles of foggy sunlight onto the starched blanket. 

When your eyes went back to Asa, her eyes were open.

‘Sleep well?’

‘Amazing.’

‘Mm. That’s good.’ Her hand softly landed on your jaw, caressing. She then shuffled forth, ‘I can’t believe it, that you’re here, on this bed.’ A kiss. Then another. Then all over your face.

You shared a kiss. Or two. You relished the rest.

It stands to reason, perhaps, that what was about to happen was overdue.

You wrapped your arms around her waist. Then her hands pushed your forearms down, lower, way lower than you originally placed them.

And all you could hear were the subtle breaths of Asa, getting faster, you think..

‘Lower.’ 

You felt red. You went lower. The swell of her backside—fuck fuck fuck—was supple in your hands. ‘Asa.’

‘Mhm. Keep going. I’ve missed out on a week without you.’

‘The video—’

‘Those don’t count. When your warm palms are not on me, nothing counts.’

That does it for you, frankly. You gripped hard, she squealed, you smashed your lips against hers—obviously, she’d call you brute after—then it becomes a race against time: how can you extend it? Can the pillowy softness of her just stay on you for more than a month atleast? Or a week! Even a day!

‘Stop thinking.’

Oh. Right. She’s right here.

You flip her over, right under you, pinned and trapped. Your limbs as bars. And you swear, to almighty and above, that Asa whispered finally.

You yield again to her touch, you slot yourself into her arms, between her legs, her arm a lock behind your nape. You should apologize to her, honestly, even the way she recoups herself under you is so fucking hot—her chest heaving, kiss-bitten lips, blooming red across her soft neck—sorry, Asa, sorry, you must hear my thoughts, right? For all it’s worth, I apologize.

‘Keep going.’ She huffs meekly.

‘You’re driving me crazy.’ 

‘I know. Keep going. Don’t stop. Let me go crazy under you. Own me.’ It’s grizzly, she has this effect on you, and you oblige, obviously. You devour her, more or less, you kiss her moist skin, the pink flush of her cheeks—why is it so pink?

Your hand slipped beneath her shirt. Nothing underneath. Her skin was warm, impossibly soft. You palmed the side of her breast, and her breath caught in your ear.

‘You said warm palms,’ you murmured, kissing along her jaw.

‘That’s one of the things I said,’ she breathed, arching slightly, coaxing your hand down, guiding it, greedy.

You trailed your mouth lower. Her body opened under you like a lit match in slow burn. She squirmed, impatient now, toes curling in the sheets.

‘You're really gonna tease me again?’ she asked, breathless, borderline scolding. ‘After all those goddamn phone calls?’

You grinned. ‘I’m making up for lost time.’

‘You’ll make up after,’ she growled softly, dragging you by your collar until your mouths met again. It was messier this time. Less orchestrated. More instinct.

Then: her hand slid between you both. She cupped you through your boxers—your aching hardness—no shame, no patience.

You froze.

‘You—you want this?’ you asked, breath ragged. ‘Now?’

‘You’re not my manager right now,’ she said, low. ‘You’re just mine.’

That about split you in two.

You kissed her hard.

Your hand slipped into her underwear. At the expense of her breathless broken moans, you felt around. She was wet already—how was she always wet? It drove you mad. She bucked against your hand as it hovered over her pussy, a shaky moan leaving her as your fingers curled inside her velvety heat. She grabbed your wrist and dug her nails in, like she couldn’t stand how slow you were going.

You felt her juices collect along your finger, completely covered, like honey, like a glaze that you were aching to taste. It’s this goddess right here, under your arms, seized, and convulsing as you fingered her into oblivion.

‘I’m gonna—’ she choked, already unsteady, lips parted, eyes fluttering. ‘Oh fuck. I’m gonna—’ She was whimpering, bucking, choking up, breaking right under you, from your fingers. Holy fucking shit. You buried your face into her neck as you worked your fingers fast and deeper.

‘Come for me,’ you whispered. Arms certainly straining—but of course: anything for Asa.

And she did. Hard. Legs shaking, voice cut to delicate ribbons. ‘Ngh!’ An entire wetness covered your hand wrist-deep.

When she came down, she blinked up at you, completely dazed, hairs stuck to her forehead in little criss-crosses and curls and somehow absolutely perfect. ‘You’re gonna kill me one day.’

‘No,’ you said, dropping kisses over her eyelids, down her cheek. ‘Just gonna keep breaking you a little.’ 

‘You make that sound romantic,’ she teased, lazy now. Wrecked.

‘It is,’ you said. ‘You’re mine. And I’m gonna prove it.’

You spread your wet hand along her sunlight-covered chest, and she let you, protruding her beautiful chest; you let her know, each swipe along her chest, sternum, just outside her areolas: look at how much you came, look at it, you naughty girl.

‘Open your mouth.’

‘Yes.’ She obeyed. Short circuit.

Her tongue pressed flat against your nectar-covered hand, diligently tasting… diligently tasting herself. Fuck.

Then you kissed her. God, she tasted good.

‘Review?’ She asked, all looney.

You burst out laughing, then she followed soon after.

‘Highest possible rating.’

‘Hm. I figured.’

‘One more kiss,’ you almost beg.

‘You like it that much?’

‘Take a hint, Asa. I love everything about you.’

Perhaps, that was the longest kiss of them all. Then:

You moved down.

She looked down at you, eyebrows lifting.

‘Wait—again?’

‘You owe me from last week. I didn’t forget that one call where you cut me off halfway. Something about “soundproofing,” remember?’

Her eyes widened. Her laugh was half-winded. ‘Oh god, that.’

Her panties were gone as swiftly as possible. And there it was, in all its glory. Something you haven’t seen, ironic given how far along you both are. Pink, glowing with her slick, absolutely transcendent. Your pants were about to burst. You were about to wrap ribbons of prayer just for the way it was pearlescent, so delicate; yet your fingers were inside there, misshaping it; you were really getting her pussy to come on your fingers. Holy shit.

You bowed, in prayer, between her thighs.

You looked up at Asa. Pink flush all over her cheeks. Broken in her moans, in her voice, in her euphoria.

‘Mhm.’ You kissed the inside of her thigh. ‘Now be quiet for me. Let me collect.’

You grinned when she clutched the sheets.

You grinned harder when she said your name like it hurt.

You slid your hands under the backs of her knees, pushed them gently toward her chest, opened her up. She gasped.

Then you tasted her.

Soft, slow at first. Long licks, riding up from bottom to top, along her delicate folds, her swollen nub—Lord almighty the sounds she made. Her hips lifted. The first moan was half-choked, too much too fast, but she didn’t ask you to slow down. Her fingers laced into your hair and held. Your name slipped out like a plea, then again, sharper, breathless.

You locked your arms under her thighs. Anchored her. Let her grind against your mouth, desperate and greedy. Let her ride it.

‘Fuck—fuck, I—’ her voice cracked like glass. ‘I’m gonna—oh god—’

You didn’t stop.

You flattened your tongue and pressed harder. Swirled when she twitched. You were methodical. Hungry. She tried to lift her hips off the bed entirely—run from it, maybe—but you gripped tighter, pulled her back. Stay right here.

And then—

She shattered.

Her thighs clamped around your ears. Her whole body jolted, a drawn bowstring suddenly loosed. The sheets under her soaked instantly.

She’d squirted.

You didn’t move. Just held her through it. Tongue gentler now, coaxing. Let her come again, smaller this time, still twitching under your grip.

When you finally looked up, her face was flushed, stunned.

‘Oh god. Your face.’ She burst out laughing again. ‘I don’t know if I should be embarrassed or what! Look at your face!’

Then, the soft air made you feel the chill of the wetness across your face. She squirted all over your face. Your grin didn’t drop a single time.

She laughed. A breathless, shocked thing. ‘I think you short-circuited me.’

‘I’m glad. So glad. My Asa. Goddess.’

She hummed positively, still out of breath.

You kissed the inside of her knee. Then trailed your mouth down her shin—the firm, quiet perfection of her shin, the skin smooth and just slightly cool to the touch. She twitched under your lips, involuntary, but didn’t pull away. You kept going, unhurried, kissing down to her ankle. Firm. Beautifully angular. You lifted her foot.

She blinked. ‘What are you—’

You kissed the arch. Pale. Sensitive.

She gasped, a little laugh bleeding through. ‘That tickles—’

Then her sole. Baby pink. Almost glowing under the low lamplight. You kissed the ball of her foot, the soft rise just beneath her toes. Then slower, more deliberate, your mouth passed over the heel, the in-step, the barely-there lines that mapped her skin. The taste of her—clean, skin-warm—something that should’ve felt silly but didn’t. Not at all.

‘Oh my god,’ she whispered, almost giggling, breath catching unevenly. ‘You’re insane.’

‘Worship,’ you murmured. ‘Every part of you.’

You moved to the other foot, taking your time. Letting her feel it wasn’t just performance, or hunger. This was devotion. This was reverence. You kissed along the sole, each toe separately, letting them rest against your lips like petals. When you finally lowered her feet gently back to the bed, she looked up at you like something in her had been rearranged.

Like maybe something just clicked.

You crawled up over her again. Her chest was rising, falling. Her breath shallow, trembling. Your hips brushed hers. You felt it instantly—heat. Wet.

She felt you too. Stiff against your boxers. The whole length of you pressed to her thigh.

‘Oh,’ she said, the word leaving her like a slow exhale. ‘Oh, you’re—’

You leaned in until your forehead met hers. She could probably feel how fast your pulse was beating.

Her hand slipped down between you both, knuckles brushing your stomach, then cupping you through your underwear. She stilled. Her brows arched.

‘You’re—fuck, you’re huge.’

You just smiled, lips ghosting her cheek.

She hooked a finger under the waistband and tugged. Her eyes flicked up to meet yours.

‘Unsheathe the sword,’ she whispered, mock dramatic, her voice still breathy, still half-lost.

You laughed. Soft and hot against her jaw. ‘You’re ridiculous.’

‘You like it.’

‘I love it.’

So you did. You slipped out of your boxers, your cock springing free and flushed. Heavy with need. She inhaled at the sight, visibly stunned, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip just a little as you looked down at her—sprawled, open.

You reached between her thighs. She was soaked. Slickness smeared easily over your fingers, thick and warm. You pressed the head against her, dragging it slowly through her folds, teasing, wet sounds slicking the air between you.

She whimpered.

Then you lined up, just barely pressing in.

‘Now?’ you asked, voice gone low and cracked.

She looped her arms around your neck. Wrapped her legs around your waist. Pulled.

‘Now,’ she said, and her voice cracked too. ‘Finally.’

You pushed in.

Heat. Pressure. Tight.

She gasped—or sobbed—you weren’t sure which. Her arms clutched at your shoulders, nails raking instinctively.

‘Ngh—’ you grunted, barely able to breathe.

‘Are you okay?’ she whispered, like her whole body was trying not to break in half.

‘Ke—ep going!’

And so you did. Inch by aching inch, your cock slid deeper, parting her, stretching her. Her walls clenched around you—not resisting, but trembling, adjusting. Wet enough to glide, tight enough to ruin you.

You looked down, watched yourself disappear inside her. You weren’t even all the way in yet.

‘Fuck—you’re perfect,’ you breathed.

She couldn’t answer. Her eyes were glassy, locked onto your face like it was the only stable thing in the room. Her fingers gripped the back of your neck, anchoring herself.

‘It’s too big—’ she whimpered, voice barely audible.

‘Slightly above average,’ you corrected her, through grit teeth.

She blinked at you. Then giggled. Actually giggled. The sound was sharp and breathless.

‘Oh wow. First guy to undersell himself.’

‘First guy?’

She looked at you like you were adorable and stupid at once.

‘You’re my first. Don’t be silly.’

That landed like a punch wrapped in silk. You stopped moving.

‘Right. Right. I’m sorry,’ you whispered.

‘Don’t be,’ she said. Her lips curved, the sweetest thing. ‘Just go slow. Don’t stop.’

You kissed her again. Gentle. So soft your lips barely moved. And you pushed deeper.

She arched, biting her lip hard.

You were inside her now. All the way. Pressed to the hilt. Her warmth swallowed you, wrapped around you, soaked every nerve in your body.

You stilled. Let her catch her breath. Let your body feel it. The twitch of her thighs, the tremble in her calves wrapped around you. The way she gasped every time you moved even a fraction.

‘I’ve got you,’ you whispered. ‘I’ll go slow.’

‘Don’t be too nice,’ she whispered back. ‘I want to remember this.’

You started slow.

Your hips rolled forward, careful, reverent. Her arms curled around your shoulders, legs still hooked loosely around your waist. She gasped into your neck—not in pain, not surprise—but that soft sound people make when something hits too deep and too right.

You pulled back, slow and steady. Watched the way her body clung to you, slick with need, her folds parting like they wanted to keep you inside. Your cock dragged out of her inch by inch, shining with her wetness, and when only the head was left, you paused—just to feel the tremble run through her thighs.

She looked up at you then.

Eyes glassy. Hair stuck to her cheek. A flush blooming across her chest and neck like watercolor bleeding through fabric.

You kissed her nose. Her temple. Rested your forehead against hers.

Then you eased back in. One long, slow thrust that made both of you exhale at the same time.

She let out the quietest whimper.

‘That feel okay?’ you whispered.

She nodded, eyes still closed. Her voice came small. ‘More than okay. You feel… full.’

You kissed her again—barely a brush of lips—and moved.

In and out.

In and out.

So slow the bed barely moved. Just the soft rustle of sheets and the gentle slide of skin against skin. The wet sound of her body welcoming yours over and over.

You looked down between you, where your hips met hers, and watched the way you disappeared inside her. She was so slick, your cock moved like it belonged there—gliding through the tight heat, collecting every drop she gave you.

‘God, baby,’ you breathed. ‘You’re so wet.’

She bit her bottom lip, bashful and burning.

‘It’s your fault,’ she murmured. ‘You look at me like that, and I melt.’

You grinned, chest warm. Leaned down and licked along her collarbone, tasted the salt on her skin.

Her hands traced your back, fingertips trailing over the curve of your shoulder blades. Her nails didn’t dig yet—they just clung.

‘You’re perfect,’ you said, the words leaving your mouth like a prayer. Not planned. Just true.

She blinked up at you, startled by how soft you said it.

You moved again, slow but firmer this time, and she sucked in a sharp breath.

‘Keep doing that,’ she whispered. ‘Please. Just like that.’

You did. Deep and steady. Her inner walls tightened each time, fluttering like she didn’t know whether to hold you in or pull you deeper.

‘I love feeling you like this,’ she said, breathless. ‘I can feel everything.’

You kissed her jaw. ‘Me too. You feel like… heaven.’

She laughed, barely a sound. Then kissed you back, and moaned into your mouth as your hips rocked again.

Her legs squeezed tighter. You picked up just a little speed. The rhythm, still careful, still full of affection—but heavier now. Like your bodies were writing something together.

Then she gasped suddenly. Her nails bit into your skin. Her mouth found your shoulder and she moaned right against it.

‘Harder,’ she whispered. A plead. A confession. ‘Please. Please.’

You didn’t even think.

You grabbed the back of her thigh and slammed into her.

She cried out—not pain. Release. Her hands flew to the headboard, bracing. Sweat-slick. Flushed. Feral.

You drove into her like you were punishing the week apart. Each thrust deeper, harder, shaking the bed against the wall. Wet sounds filled the room, loud and obscene, her slick coating your cock in excess.

‘Fuck—fuck—you’re so deep—’ she gasped. Chest sweat-slicked, glowing. Utter euphoria. Feral.

You grabbed her wrists. Pinned them above her head with one hand. Your other braced beside her, keeping your weight just barely off her chest. Your hips never stopped moving.

‘You said you wanted to remember this,’ you growled. ‘You will.’

She nodded frantically, head thrown back, eyes rolling up as you fucked her into the mattress. You leaned in, your mouth to her ear.

‘You’re mine,’ you said. You didn’t even mean to say it. It just ripped out of you.

‘Yes,’ she breathed. ‘Yes—yes, yes, yes—’

You pulled out.

She gasped in protest—but you weren’t done.

You flipped her. Bent her over. Palmed the dip of her spine.

‘Arch more,’ you commanded, voice hoarse.

She obeyed instantly. Back bowed, ass high, thighs still shaking.

You sank back in, all at once.

She screamed into the pillow.

You didn’t ease up.

You grabbed her hips and held on, locked in, your thighs slapping against the backs of hers with each thrust. The rhythm was brutal now, relentless. You’d held back long enough. Her body welcomed it—hell, demanded it—soaked and twitching, each stroke punching wet sounds into the room like applause.

‘Fuckfuckfuck— you’re gonna make me—’ she gasped, voice nearly strangled by the pillow.

You leaned in, weight bearing down, grabbed a fistful of her ass and slapped it. Once. Firm. Just enough to send a sharp ripple through her.

She yelped, a noise of shock and heat all at once.

‘Come again,’ you growled. ‘Do it. I want it all over me.’

She obeyed—or maybe she just couldn’t help it.

Her whole body seized, back bowing, her thighs locking against yours as a jet of wetness sprayed out from between her legs, coating your skin, soaking the sheets. She sobbed into the pillow, a high, helpless sound, twitching like her body couldn’t handle it.

You didn’t stop.

You couldn’t stop.

You gripped her hips tighter—she was trying to crawl away, overwhelmed, overstimulated, every nerve lit—but you reeled her back like she was yours to claim.

‘Fuck—baby— I—fuck, you’re still going—’ she wailed, voice cracked open.

You didn’t answer. Just leaned over her back, chest against her spine, and pressed your hand between her shoulder blades. Not hard. Just enough to keep her down. Her cheek flattened against the sheets. Her hands clenched the comforter in fists.

‘You said you wanted to remember this,’ you rasped into her ear. ‘I’m making sure you do.’

‘Already wrecked—’ she sobbed, voice thick with surrender.

You reached for her hair and pulled, slow but sure, until she was forced to lift her face, eyes red and wet and wrecked as she looked back at you.

Tears on her cheeks. Mouth parted.

God, she looked divine.

‘Say it,’ you told her. ‘Say you’re mine.’

She didn’t hesitate.

‘I’m yours,’ she cried, desperate. ‘I’m fucking yours—just don’t stop—please, don’t stop—’

You drove into her like a man possessed. The sound of your hips slamming into her ass echoed off the walls. The headboard tapped the drywall with every stroke. Your name fell from her lips over and over, broken, begging, delirious.

Her legs shook.

Her body quaked.

She was so wet, so impossibly tight around you, the slick suction of her pulling you in deeper, deeper, like she didn’t want to let go.

Then her hand slid back, blindly, fingers reaching for you.

You grabbed her wrist, pinned it against the small of her back, her body arching under the pressure. Completely helpless. Herself offered up to you, willingly, wantonly, begging for the ruin.

And you gave it to her.

Everything.

You could feel it building—fast, violent—the pressure burning up your spine, into your ribs, your grip on her hip tightening, fingers digging bruises.

‘Please come,’ she begged, voice raw, soaked in need. ‘Inside. Please—I want to feel it—need it—’

You were right on the edge.

Your thrusts faltered, hitched. Your jaw clenched. Muscles locking.

You slammed into her one last time—deep—and held there, buried to the root, shaking.

Then you came.

Hard.

Ropes and ropes. You swore. Loud. Her name. God’s. Yours. Didn’t matter.

Every drop spilled inside her, her pussy milking you, clenching around you like she didn’t want to let you go.

You pressed your body down, still inside her, your forehead to her shoulder, your hand on her hip. The only sounds were your breaths—hers shallow and wrecked, yours ragged and uneven.

You pulled out slowly, and she whimpered at the loss—her pussy so spent, so tender, that she flinched at the shift in pressure.

You collapsed beside her. Hooked an arm around her middle and pulled her back into you.

Your cock twitched between you both, still half-hard, wet with the mess you’d left behind. It didn’t matter.

She was shaking.

Not from fear. From everything. From all of it.

You kissed her shoulder. Then the back of her neck. Then again.

Gentle now. Like you were reminding her you were still you.

Still hers.

Still here.

‘You okay?’ you whispered, hand slowly brushing her side, up and down in soft strokes.

She didn’t answer right away.

Then: ‘I can’t feel my legs.’

You laughed. Weakly. Kissed her again. ‘Good.’

She laughed too. A breathy, ruined thing.

‘We need…’ she mumbled. ‘A towel. Or five.’

‘Room service’ll think we committed a crime in here.’

She turned her face into the pillow. ‘We did.’

You held her tighter. Still catching your breath. Still high on the scent of sweat and sex and Asa. And her laugh, now lazy and gleaming, like everything was exactly where it should be.

‘You’re not going back to your room, are you?’ she mumbled.

‘Not even if it caught fire.’

‘Good.’

She twisted a little. Found your mouth again. A soft kiss this time. Messy and warm.

You were already hardening again.

She noticed.

And grinned into the kiss. ‘You’re insatiable.’

‘You’re to blame.’

‘Lucky me.’

—

She made a weak sound from where she was flopped across the bed like a marionette with the strings cut.

‘Ow,’ she mumbled into the sheets. ‘My everything.’

You limped back over. ‘I told you to hydrate.’

‘I did. Like, two sips.’

‘That’s not hydration. That’s mouth rinse.’

‘Then carry me to the bath, hydration police.’

You blinked. She didn’t look at you—too busy face-planting deeper into the mattress—but you saw the lazy little grin forming.

You exhaled, dramatic. ‘You’re lucky you’re cute.’

‘Strong words from a man walking like a baby deer.’

You scooped her up anyway.

She yelped—then clung to your shoulders like a koala. ‘Wait, you’re actually doing it? Oh my god.’

‘I am a gentleman,’ you said, wobbling slightly. ‘And you smell like sex and victory.’

‘Hot.’

‘Yes. Hot, and also sticky.’

‘Okay now it’s less hot.’

The bathroom was still fogged from earlier. The steam clung to the mirror. You set her down on the edge of the tub while the water ran, testing the temperature with your hand.

‘Are you seriously gonna draw me a bath?’ she asked, eyes wide. Teasing. But also just a little touched.

‘Gotta soak the goddess,’ you said, rinsing your hands off. ‘Divine women don’t loiter in their own post-orgasm wreckage.’

‘Stop it.’

‘No.’

You poured in a little of the cheap hotel bubble soap. It frothed up fast. She reached out and popped a bubble, grinning.

‘I feel fancy,’ she said.

‘You are fancy.’

You leaned over and kissed her shoulder. Then helped her step in, holding her steady as she lowered herself down.

‘Oof. Hot. Good hot. God-hot.’

She sank deeper with a soft sigh, head resting against the tile. Her knees just barely broke the surface. You pulled up the little stool from the corner and sat beside her.

She cracked one eye open. ‘You’re not getting in?’

‘This is your bath. You’re the main character.’

‘That’s sweet. Stupid. But sweet.’

You wet a washcloth, gently wrung it out, and started running it along her arms.

‘You don’t have to,’ she said, a little quieter now. Still smiling, but there was something behind it.

‘I know.’

She didn’t argue after that. Just let you.

You dragged the cloth along her collarbone, over her shoulder, down her arm again. Slow. Careful. A little clumsy, but trying.

She closed her eyes. Relaxed under your touch.

‘Do you do this for all your artists?’ she mumbled.

‘Only the ones who squirt on me twice and then collapse in a heap.’

‘Twice?’ Her eyes opened again. ‘You’re bragging now.’

‘Just documenting history.’

She giggled, lazy and soft, bubbles sticking to her collarbone.

You trailed the cloth down her side, then gently lifted one leg out of the water, resting her ankle on your thigh. Her foot was slick and warm. You kissed her arch, just because.

She stared at you, stunned for a second. Then blinked. ‘Okay. That was unfair.’

‘What was?’

‘Being all… this. Domestic and filthy. Worshipping me like I’m Aphrodite after brunch.’

You kissed her ankle this time. ‘Well. You are.’

She stared a beat longer. Then laughed.

‘You’re a menace.’

‘And yet here I am, washing your toes.’

‘You’re so in love with me.’

You paused. Looked up at her.

‘I am,’ you said. No theater. No drama. Just true.

Her face did that thing—like she wasn’t sure whether to cry or kiss you or splash water at your face just to reset the tension.

She settled for a quiet, ‘Okay. Yeah. Me too.’

You squeezed her ankle, then reached for the shampoo.

‘Tilt your head back.’

‘You’re really gonna wash my hair too?’ ‘Let me spoil you. I’ll invoice you later.’ She leaned her head back. You poured a little shampoo into your palm and massaged it gently into her scalp. She made a noise—somewhere between a hum and a moan. Eyes closed, face slack. ‘You’ve done this before,’ she mumbled. ‘Nope. Just winging it. Manager instincts.’ ‘Remind me to renew your contract.’ ‘With a raise?’ ‘With everything.’ You grinned, rinsed her hair gently, carefully shielding her eyes with your palm. Later, when you helped her out and wrapped her in a towel, she kissed your shoulder and whispered, ‘Thank you.’ Not teasing. Not playing. Just her. Bare, warm, soft. You held her a little longer than necessary. Let the steam wrap around both of you.

The End

a/n: .............................idk

[heeluvv]

FULFILLED.ᐟ

pairing ᝰ.ᐟ sim jaeyun x reader

warnings ᝰ.ᐟ fingering, pussy eating, unprotected sex, tit play, daddy kink, etc.

natty’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ mdni, hate comments will be deleted.

you had always kept to yourself, preferring solitude over pointless small talk and meaningless interactions. socializing never appealed to you—why waste energy caring about people’s lives when they were just as irrelevant as the next? you were content in your own world, detached from the gossip, the hierarchy, the petty dramas that surrounded you.

but if there was one person who could pull you out of your quiet indifference, who could bring out the worst in you, who could make your blood boil with nothing but pure, unfiltered rage—it was sim jaeyun.

the golden boy. the poster child of perfection. the captain of the soccer team and the walking, breathing ego that came with it. jaeyun was obnoxiously charming, devastatingly good-looking, and painfully aware of it. you hated to admit it, but he was infuriatingly hot—the kind of attractive that made it even worse when he opened his mouth and let that cocky, self-assured, utterly insufferable personality spill out.

and yet, no matter how much you tried to ignore him, he was always there—always in your space, always testing your patience, always pushing you toward the edge of absolute hatred.

like right now.

the distant shrill of a whistle cut through the air, a cruel reminder that karma had decided to be your enemy today. all you wanted was a moment of peace to focus on your studies, yet the universe had other plans.

your fingers gripped the edge of your notebook, trying to block out the noise, but curiosity—or perhaps masochism—had your eyes drifting from the pages to the field below.

and there he was.

jaeyun stood in the middle of the field, black compression shirt clinging to his body like a second skin, accentuating every toned muscle, every sharp dip and curve of his figure. his sleeves stretched tight around his biceps, flexing every time he moved, and his broad shoulders carried the kind of natural confidence that made it impossible not to look.

his hands—god, his hands—looked buffer than ever, fingers flexing as he wiped the sweat from his brow. damp strands of hair clung to his forehead, framing his face in a way that was unfairly attractive, his jaw clenched in focus, lips parted as he caught his breath.

and just like that—you hated him even more.

you hated how good he looked. hated how someone so cocky, insufferable, and utterly arrogant managed to crawl his way under your skin with nothing but a smirk and a well-timed stretch. hated how, despite everything, your body reacted to him in ways that made you sick with frustration.

because no matter how much you despised sim jaeyun, there were nights where you couldn’t help yourself.

nights where the memory of his voice—low, smooth, teasing, always dripping with mockery—played in your mind like a broken record. nights where your fingers gripped the sheets, your body aching, your mind clouded with filthy, shameful fantasies about how he’d be in bed.

rough. harsh. demanding.

a man like him wouldn’t settle for anything less than full control, wouldn’t be soft or hesitant, wouldn’t let you get away with your usual bratty attitude. his cock—of course it’d be big, thick and veined, the kind that made your thighs clench just thinking about it. and he’d know exactly how to use it, how to ruin you, how to make you choke on his name the same way he always made you choke on your words when you argued.

there had been too many nights where you’d touched yourself too much, too desperately, too often, chasing a high you could only ever reach by thinking about him. remembering the way he spoke to you, taunted you, tested you. he never even had to do anything overtly sexual—just the sound of his voice, the way he said your name with that condescending smirk, was enough to make your stomach twist with something you refused to name.

maybe it wasn’t hate. maybe it wasn’t even anger. honestly, you didn’t know what the fuck it was.

but you knew you were fucked.

and he knew it too.

because the moment your gaze lingered for too long, the moment you let your eyes betray you, his head snapped up, locking onto yours with deadly precision. his lips curled into a smug, knowing smirk, one that told you he could read your thoughts, see the way your thighs subtly pressed together, feel the heat burning under your skin.

and then he did something unforgivable.

his hands dropped to the hem of his compression shirt, fingers teasing the fabric, dragging it up slowly—too slowly—revealing the toned ridges of his abs, the sharp v-line disappearing beneath his shorts. his skin glistened with sweat, muscles flexing as he wiped a hand over his face, and that was it. that was your breaking point.

your thighs clenched before you could stop them, heat pooling between your legs at the intrusive, unholy thought of grinding against his abs.

but your face? your face remained impassive, indifferent, perfectly annoyed.

except he saw right through you.

his smirk widened, and then—because he was a menace, a fucking devil—he lifted two fingers, forming a V, and flicked his tongue between them, slow and deliberate.

your breath caught, a sharp gasp nearly escaping, but you swallowed it down, forcing yourself to glare.

because this was his favorite game.

he loved to push you, tease you, provoke you, just to see how far he could take it before you snapped. and you? you hated that it worked.

hated that your body betrayed you every time.

hated that instead of looking away in disgust, your mind ran wild with images of that tongue on you, between your legs, ruining you in ways your own fingers never could.

because the truth was—as much as you hated his teasing, hated his smug expressions, hated the way he knew exactly how to get under your skin…

you hated even more that it turned you on.

you couldn’t take it anymore.

the heat pooling in your stomach, the unbearable ache between your legs, the way jaeyun had looked at you like he knew everything you were thinking—it was too much. you needed to get away, needed space, needed somewhere secluded where he wouldn’t find you, wouldn’t push you further, wouldn’t see just how much he was affecting you.

gathering your belongings in a flustered haze, you left the bleachers, forcing yourself to walk, not run, as if that would somehow keep him from noticing your sudden, desperate retreat. the moment you stepped inside the girls’ bathroom, the tension in your shoulders loosened, the silence finally giving you a moment to breathe. it wasn’t ideal, but it was private, safe, far away from him.

or at least, it should have been.

but even as you reopened your notebook, pretending to refocus, your mind was already wandering. drifting back to the way jaeyun had looked standing on that field, his sweat-slicked skin glistening under the sun, his shirt riding up just enough to drive you insane.

you exhaled sharply, pressing your thighs together, feeling the uncomfortable stickiness between them. you couldn’t take it anymore. and though it was a reckless, dangerous thing to do here—on school grounds, in a public bathroom where anyone could walk in—you didn’t care.

your fingers trembled slightly as you set your books aside, reaching down to drag your skirt up, revealing the dampened fabric of your panties—soaked, ruined, completely exposing how badly he had affected you. the cool air against your heated skin made you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the fire burning in your core.

hesitation didn’t exist.

your fingers traced over the damp fabric, pressing down on your clit through your panties, delivering soft, teasing strokes that made your body twitch, thighs clenching involuntarily. your bottom lip was pulled between your teeth, suppressing the moan that threatened to spill out as you circled your fingers again, testing the sensitivity, reveling in the fact that it was all because of him.

never in your life did you think you’d be getting off at school, but you had one person to blame.

and that same person was going to pay for it later.

your mind drifted, unraveling into dark, forbidden thoughts—starting first with his hands, the way they flexed when he wiped sweat off his face, the veins running along his knuckles, his fingers long and thick, so perfectly built for touching, gripping, fucking. you imagined those same fingers curving inside you, pressing deep, dragging along your walls, knowing exactly where to touch, how to break you apart with just his hands.

“fuck…” the word slipped past your lips, soft, breathy, needy. your fingers picked up their pace, rubbing tight circles over your clit, imagining him doing it instead.

then your mind wandered lower.

his thighs—thick, strong, built from years of training—the way they’d feel underneath you, how he’d let you grind down against them, flexing just to make you feel it harder. you could almost hear him in your head, that low, mocking voice filled with amusement as he teased, “is this all you can do, baby? i thought you hated me.”

your breath hitched, your fingers working faster, needier, the tension tightening in your stomach, winding tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any second.

your mind spiraled deeper into the fantasy of him, completely lost in the intoxicating thought of jaeyun ruining you. his plump lips—the same ones that always curled into a cocky smirk, the ones that taunted you endlessly—now pressed against your body, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your skin, sucking harshly just to claim you. you could almost feel the bruises he’d leave behind, marking you up just to prove a point, just so everyone could see that you were his.

but then it was his tongue—your mind whirling at the filthy images of him trailing it over every inch of your body, slow and teasing, cruel in the way he’d drag it across your skin with no urgency, knowing you’d squirm under his touch. especially when he finally settled between your legs, hovering, smirking at how soaked you’d be for him.

he wouldn’t give in easily—no, jaeyun would make you beg, make you say his name the way he wanted before rewarding you. you could picture it too vividly, the way he’d flick his tongue over your clit in agonizingly small strokes, just enough to tease but never enough to satisfy, forcing you to writhe beneath him. you’d grip his hair, try to push him closer, but he’d only laugh, his voice thick with amusement as he murmured, “desperate, aren’t you?”

and the worst part? you would be.

but nothing—nothing—would compare to the thought of his cock.

his thick, veined length, the way he’d stretch you open, the way he’d find pleasure in watching you struggle to take him in. your mind twisted into filthier images, ones that made you ache with need, thinking about him forcing himself past your lips, groaning as he watched your mouth stretch around his size, watching you choke, struggle, drool as he shoved himself deeper.

he’d mock you for it, for your watery eyes, for the way you tried to take him so obediently despite the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. “what’s wrong, baby?” he’d taunt, “too much for you?” but he wouldn’t let up. he’d hold you there, letting you suffer with your mouth full of him, finding twisted amusement in your helplessness.

“fuck, jaeyun—” the moan escaped before you even realized it, his name falling from your lips with ease, your fingers working faster, deeper, more desperate. the sound of wetness echoed off the bathroom walls, mixing with the heavy, uneven breaths slipping from your lips. but you were too far gone to care.

your mind whirled into new possibilities, wondering—which position would he love most?

doggy?

would he want you on all fours, back arched for him, ass perfectly presented as he pressed his cock deep into you, one hand fisting your hair while the other came down in harsh, stinging slaps on your skin?

the image alone had your body tensing, your core tightening, the thought of him commanding you, ruining you, owning you tipping you dangerously close to the edge.

“shit—!”

your body jerked, pleasure crashing into you, breaking you apart as your orgasm ripped through you, leaving your thighs shaking, your breathing heavy and uneven.

your fingers slowed, the aftershocks pulsing through your body as the last waves of pleasure settled deep in your core.

but as the high faded, as the reality of what just happened sank in, only one thing lingered in your mind.

you needed to get back at him for this.

as the waves of pleasure slowly faded, leaving behind a lingering buzz of sensitivity, you fumbled for the toilet paper, wiping the slick from your fingers with shaky hands. your breathing was still uneven, erratic, the aftershocks of your orgasm pulsing faintly through your body as you reached for your phone. the screen lit up, the time glaring back at you—past 4.

you needed to get out of here. now.

with slightly trembling fingers, you tugged your sticky panties back into place, the damp fabric clinging uncomfortably against your sensitive core, a stark reminder of what you had just done. pressing down your skirt with forced nonchalance, you exhaled slowly, trying to steady yourself, trying to act as if nothing had happened.

your bag swung over your shoulder, your belongings clutched tightly in your hands as you pushed open the stall door—only to freeze.

your breath caught in your throat.

what the actual fuck.

there he was.

jaeyun.

leaning casually against the sinks, his arms crossed over his chest, his head tilted downward in what looked like bored amusement.

but then—he lifted his gaze.

his smug, infuriating, cocky gaze.

the second he heard the stall door open, his head snapped up, lips curling into a slow, devastating smirk.

his eyes—dark, knowing, utterly unreadable—swept over you in a way that made heat prickle down your spine, that made your heart slam against your ribs.

and in that moment, you knew.

he had been here the entire time.

your entire body locked up, every muscle in your frame going rigid as a sudden, burning heat crept up your neck, flooding your cheeks, settling deep in your stomach. the air in the bathroom felt thick, suffocating, the weight of jaeyun’s gaze alone pinning you in place, rendering you completely, utterly speechless.

your mind scrambled, trying—desperately, frantically—to piece together some kind of snarky response, something sharp and biting, something that would make it seem like you weren’t caught red-handed. but the words never came, vanishing before they could even form, leaving you stranded in the unforgiving silence that stretched between you.

his presence felt all-consuming, taking up every ounce of space, every breath of air, every single thought in your head. and you knew. you fucking knew there was no talking your way out of this.

because you had been caught.

completely. undeniably. irreversibly caught.

jaeyun let out a soft scoff, the sound laced with amusement, disbelief, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just witnessed—but was entirely enjoying it. he shifted, his posture straightening, his hands lowering to press against the sink counter, his grip firm, calculated, like he was settling in for a show.

but his eyes—sharp, teasing, deadly—never wavered from yours.

“had fun, baby?”

his voice was smooth, lazy, dripping with pure, unfiltered arrogance.

and it was deadly.

“i-i don’t know what you’re talking about..”

the words tumbled out, weak, unconvincing, betraying you before you could even attempt to sound believable. your voice stammered, breath still uneven, the aftermath of your orgasm clinging to you in ways you couldn’t hide. it was pathetic, really—grasping at the thin veil of denial, desperately gaslighting yourself into believing that maybe, just maybe, jaeyun had heard nothing.

he hadn’t walked in on you touching yourself to the thought of him.

he hadn’t heard the breathless, wrecked moan of his name spill from your lips as your fingers worked you to the edge.

and he sure as hell hadn’t been standing there, watching, listening, waiting, while you fell apart over him in the most shameless way possible.

right?

jaeyun pushed himself off the counter, his movements slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to watch you crumble. his gaze dragged over your face, taking in the way your lips parted slightly, the way your eyes darted away, flustered, panicked, guilty.

he knew. he fucking knew.

his steps were unhurried as he made his way toward you, closing the space effortlessly, like a predator playing with its prey. his hands stayed tucked in his pockets, a move that would have seemed casual if not for the way he subtly angled his hips, discreetly camouflaging what you already knew was there.

“no?” he echoed, voice mocking, smooth, his head tilting slightly, lips curling into something dangerous.

he stopped just close enough, forcing you to look up at him, the space between you nonexistent, suffocating.

“are you sure about that?”

his voice dropped lower, his tone dipping into something dark, knowing, completely unforgiving.

you were fucked.

“i have t-to go…”

your voice barely held steady, coming out in a breathless, shaky whisper, but you forced yourself to move anyway, clutching your bag like it was some kind of lifeline. your body screamed for an escape, your mind racing for any possible way out of this mess, but the second you tried to squeeze past him, it was over.

jaeyun’s hand shot out, gripping your wrist, spinning you effortlessly before your back collided with the cold, unforgiving wall. the force made you gasp, your bag slipping from your fingers, its contents spilling onto the tiled floor, but you barely noticed—not when he was this close.

your breath hitched, sharp and uneven, your chest rising and falling too fast as he closed the distance, his body just inches from yours, pressing into you without actually touching. but the heat radiating off him, the sheer intensity of his presence made it feel like he was everywhere.

his breath—hot, teasing, deliberate—cascaded over your ear, sending a shiver straight down your spine.

“why don’t i make it happen?”

his voice was low, dark, dripping with suggestion, and before you could even process his words, his tongue flicked out—a teasing, feather-light lick against the shell of your ear. your body jolted in response, heat coiling low in your stomach, a betrayal to your own desperation to resist him.

his hands slid down, coming to rest on your waist, fingers firm, possessive, gripping you like he was testing just how badly you wanted to run.

except you didn’t.

you couldn’t.

you never thought—not even in your wildest, filthiest fantasies—that this would actually happen.

you had dreamed of this—had spent too many shameful nights lost in the thought of him, picturing his hands gripping you just like this, his lips ghosting over your skin, his voice laced with the same dark amusement he carried now.

but you never thought it would go this far.

you never thought he’d know.

“i heard it all, y/n. don’t lie to me.”

the words sent a shockwave through you, making your stomach drop, your body locking up instantly.

he was so close now, so unbearably close, his breath ghosting over your cheek, his voice low, smooth, completely in control.

your wide, stunned eyes met his—dark, full of lust, unreadable in the worst way. your lips parted, chest rising and falling in sharp, shallow breaths, every ounce of air in the room suddenly gone.

the tension was suffocating. electric. devastating.

you weren’t even sure which one of you was breathing harder.

but you knew one thing—you couldn’t take it any longer.

your hands shot up, sliding over the firm lines of his neck, your fingers gripping him desperately as your lips crashed into his.

he didn’t hesitate.

his mouth moved against yours just as urgently, his grip on your waist tightening, grounding you, pulling you flush against him.

the kiss was messy, rushed, uncontrolled, tongues colliding, fighting for dominance, a battle neither of you were willing to lose.

jaeyun tilted his head, deepening the kiss, pressing into you with more force, more hunger, his fingers digging into your hips, like he was staking his claim.

his lips broke away from yours, leaving your mouth swollen, tingling, but before you could even whimper in protest, he was already moving—trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your neck.

his tongue flicked out, dragging over your pulse, his lips following with a sharp, lingering suck before his teeth sank into your skin, biting down just enough to make you shiver.

“fuck, jaeyun—”

his name slipped from your lips in a breathless moan, your fingers burying themselves into his damp hair, tugging him closer, harder, as if you could make him devour you faster.

his hands slid under your shirt, rough and impatient, fingertips pressing into your ribs before curling around the fabric.

and then—he ripped it off.

the shirt was discarded somewhere, anywhere, his breath hitching as his hands immediately found your tits, cupping them in his palms, squeezing just enough to make you arch into him.

his thumbs rolled over your nipples, watching in dark fascination as they pebbled under his touch, slick from the heat between your bodies.

“fuck—” he groaned, his thumbs brushing, teasing, rubbing, eyes fixated on the way your tits bounced every time he played with them.

he had thought about this too many times, too many nights spent fisting his cock to the idea of it, imagining your tits wrapped around him, squeezing him, his cock sliding between them while your mouth was open, tongue flicking out to catch his tip.

and now, you were here—real, warm, desperate beneath him.

his hands moved behind you, unclasping your bra in one swift motion, tossing it aside without a second thought.

his gaze devoured you, drinking in the sight of your bare skin, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your nipples hard and begging to be in his mouth.

and then—he dove in.

his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, tongue swirling, flicking over the sensitive bud before his teeth caught it, tugging just enough to make you gasp.

“so fucking pretty,” he muttered against your skin, his breath hot, damp, intoxicating.

he sucked hard, determined to leave bruises behind, claiming you in deep, dark marks that would take days to fade.

his mouth trailed higher, pressing kisses up your collarbone, along the curve of your throat, before descending again, this time onto your other tit.

“mm—fuck, jaeyun—” your head tilted back, eyes fluttering shut, your panties soaked, sticky, unbearable with how badly you needed more.

but he didn’t give in—not yet.

“jaeyun, please—” your voice broke, your fingers tightening in his hair, tugging hard, trying to ground yourself, trying to make him move faster, harder, give you more.

but he only smirked against your skin, his grip on your waist tightening as he murmured, smug and cruel—

“beg better, baby.”

he lowered himself slowly, sinking to his knees before you, his lips dragging over your stomach, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. his hands found the hem of your skirt, fingers gripping the fabric as he pushed it up, letting it bunch around your waist, exposing just how much you needed him.

his hands guided your trembling thighs over his shoulders, positioning you perfectly, his face so close, too close, his breath hot, teasing, fanning against your soaking, ruined panties. his eyes darkened at the sight—your slick glistening through the thin fabric, staining it completely, proof of how wrecked you already were for him.

“fuck—” jaeyun groaned, his fingers hooking into the waistband, yanking harshly, tearing them away in one swift movement. the ripped fabric was tossed somewhere, forgotten, and before you could even process the loss, his hands grabbed at your ass, grounding you, keeping you balanced as his mouth descended upon you.

his tongue darted out, licking one slow, deliberate stripe through your folds before thrusting inside you, his mouth sealing around your dripping heat as if he were starving.

“ah—!” the scream ripped from your throat, your thighs clamping down around his head, your fingers flying to his hair, gripping tight, pulling hard.

but jaeyun didn’t care—he wanted it.

he wanted you to hold him there, wanted you to lose control, wanted to feel your body breaking apart in his hands.

his tongue moved in long, devastating licks, his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking, flicking, devouring. he moaned into your heat, the vibrations shooting through you, making your body jolt, shudder, tremble.

“fuck—jaeyun, please! please—!”

your hips rocked against his mouth, chasing the friction, chasing relief, and he let you, let you use him, let you grind down on his face, his tongue fucking into you, licking you so deep, so perfectly, every flick of his tongue making the coil in your stomach tighten, tighten, tighten—

his hands squeezed your ass, pressing you even closer, his mouth slurping, messy, loud, and he groaned against you, the sound deep, guttural, pure sin.

“so fucking sweet, baby,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire, his lips wet, glistening, ruined with you.

“gonna eat this pussy till you cry for me.”

your head slammed back against the wall, the dull ache barely registering over the overwhelming pleasure flooding your senses. the way jaeyun’s tongue worked inside you was nothing short of sinful—precise, merciless, devastating. every flick, every deep stroke of his tongue sent you spiraling, your thighs trembling violently atop his shoulders, threatening to give out completely.

your pussy clenched around the relentless movements of his tongue, soaking him, ruining him, making him groan into you like he was addicted to your taste. you could hear it—the obscene, wet sounds of him devouring you, drinking you in, savoring every drop like you were the best thing he’d ever had.

“jaeyun, please—c-can i cum? please, can i—i?”

your pleas turned to whimpers, then to sobs, your voice breaking under the weight of your impending climax, under the unbearable need to let go. your fingers gripped at his hair, desperate, pulling, tugging, trying to ground yourself, trying not to fall apart too soon.

jaeyun only chuckled against your heat, the vibrations sending shockwaves through you, making you twitch, gasp, tremble even harder.

“aww, you wanna cum, baby?” his voice was mocking, condescending, yet dripping with pure filth, his hands digging into your thighs, pressing them harder around his head. “wanna make a mess on daddy’s face?”

the word—that fucking word—sent a shudder through you, a sharp, visceral reaction you couldn’t suppress.

your moan was loud, desperate, wrecked, your body jerking involuntarily, the filthy nickname feeding into every sinful fantasy you’d ever had.

“please, please, daddy—”

your voice cracked, high-pitched, teetering on the edge of ruin, your climax hanging by a thread, so dangerously close, so impossibly unbearable.

jaeyun groaned against you, tongue flicking faster, his hands spreading you open wider, his movements completely unrelenting.

“then cum, baby,” he murmured against your clit, voice dark, commanding, merciless. “make a fucking mess for me.”

the second the words left his lips, you broke.

your orgasm crashed into you with full force, a violent, breathtaking release that tore through every nerve in your body. a loud, uncontrollable scream ripped from your throat, your entire form convulsing, trembling, muscles tightening so hard that for a second, you felt like you might black out from the intensity.

jaeyun groaned, his grip on your ass tightening, fingers digging in as he held you in place, his mouth devouring every drop of your release.

“fuck, baby—”” he rasped, voice thick with pure, ravenous hunger, the vibrations against your clit sending aftershocks ripping through you, making your thighs spasm uncontrollably around his head.

but he wasn’t done.

his tongue licked long, deliberate strokes, lapping up every bit of your arousal, cleaning you up with slow, torturous drags, drinking you in like he never wanted to stop.

“oh fuck—” your moans came in shaky, gasping breaths, your chest heaving aggressively, body still shuddering in the aftermath.

and yet, he still didn’t let up.

his mouth was relentless, his tongue dipping back in, pressing another slow, suffocating lick through your folds, his lips wrapping around your clit just to feel you twitch again.

but before the overstimulation could truly wreck you, he finally lifted himself off you, his face slick with your release, his lips glistening, wet, ruined.

and yet, he didn’t wipe it away.

he licked his lips—slow, deliberate, greedy.

“so fucking good, baby.”

his voice was hoarse, rough, completely wrecked.

and his cock—fuck, his cock was aching.

his hunger for you was insatiable, he could spend hours between your thighs, ruining you over and over with his tongue alone, but the ache in his pants was now painful, throbbing, unbearable.

he wanted to feel you. all of you.

finally.

his hands moved with ease, picking you up effortlessly, his strength barely faltering as he carried you off his shoulders, setting you down onto the cool, porcelain sink.

his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them apart just enough to take in the mess he made of you.

his cock twitched in his shorts, straining painfully, the evidence of his arousal obvious in the thick wet patch covering the front of his sweats.

he didn’t waste another second.

with one hand, he dragged his shorts down, his boxers following, both pieces of clothing pooling at his ankles as he finally freed himself.

and fuck—your assumption had been right.

he was huge.

his cock stood heavy, thick, angry, his veins prominent, his slit already leaking precum, twitching with need as he gripped himself at the base, giving himself a few rough pumps.

“you’re doing so fucking good for me, baby,” his voice was pure sin, filled with dark satisfaction as he fisted himself, teasing his tip against your soaked, pulsating entrance. “such a good fucking girl.”

your body shuddered, still raw, overstimulated, desperate, but you wanted him more than anything.

“are you gonna take me well, baby?” he murmured, his voice taunting, teasing, his cock dragging along your folds, smearing his precum over your entrance. “gonna show daddy just how fucking desperate you are for his cock?”

your only response was a soft, wrecked whimper, your body too dazed, too lost in the haze of pleasure to form a coherent thought.

but jaeyun wasn’t feeling patient.

one hand slid up to your breast, squeezing it harshly, his fingers pinching your nipple as he finally pushed in.

the stretch was instant, breathtaking, overwhelming.

your walls clamped around him, your body struggling to take his sheer size, your head tilting back, mouth falling open in a silent scream as he pushed deeper, filling you inch by inch.

“oh fuck, baby—” his groan was deep, strained, broken, his grip on your breast tightening, fingers digging into your skin as he bottomed out completely.

his cock throbbed inside you, buried to the hilt, your tight walls gripping him so perfectly, so sinfully, so impossibly tight.

“shit—” he gritted out, his jaw clenching as he held still, letting you adjust, reveling in the way your body wrapped around him, sucked him in.

he had waited for this.

and now, he was going to ruin you.

his other hand moved to your neglected breast, fingers gripping, kneading, squeezing with just enough force to make your back arch deeper, a series of soft, low grunts escaping his lips as he drank in the sight of you.

“gonna fucking ruin you…” his voice was husky, dark, dripping with sin, his breath hot against your skin as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear before he snapped his hips forward.

“i’ll have you begging for more, baby.”

and then—he slammed into you.

his thrusts were merciless, brutal, unrelenting, each one hitting deeper, harder, sharper, the sheer force making your entire body jolt against the sink. your fingers desperately clawed at his back, nails digging into his skin, leaving burning, red trails that only made him groan louder.

“fuck—” your eyes rolled back, pleasure crashing over you as he found your sweet spot instantly, his cock pushing into you so deep, so perfectly, stretching you so good that your thighs trembled violently, your breath coming in shaky, uneven gasps.

and then—his hands left your tits.

only to come slamming down onto your skin.

hard.

the sharp sting of his palm meeting your flesh made your body jolt, your head tilting back as a loud, broken scream spilled from your lips.

“fuck, daddy!”

your cry echoed in the small space, your hands flying up, searching for something—anything—to hold onto as the pleasure overwhelmed you.

your fingers latched onto his broad back, nails raking down the sculpted muscles, leaving deep, red scratches that only fueled him further.

“fuuuck—” jaeyun groaned, voice thick, slurred, completely wrecked.

his head tilted back, his jaw clenched, his stomach flexing beautifully, sweat dripping down his abs as he pounded into you harder, the force of it rocking the sink beneath you.

“this pussy—taking me so fucking well—”

his words were half-spoken, half-moan, his voice drenched in pleasure, his hips never faltering, never slowing.

“you love this fucking dick, don’t you, baby?”

his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them even wider, pushing himself even deeper, watching as your body shuddered beneath him, completely ruined, completely his.

“fuck yes! yes!”

your scream echoed through the small space, bouncing off the bathroom walls as your body convulsed, every muscle tightening, your core clenching around him like a vice. each ruthless, punishing thrust sent you spiraling closer, the coil in your stomach winding tighter, tighter—

“gonna cum on my dick, baby?”

jaeyun’s voice was thick, strained, completely wrecked, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. his grip tightened around your legs, his fingers digging into your flesh as he lifted them higher, pushing them closer to the mirror behind you.

“oh—s-shit!”

your head snapped back, a scream ripping from your throat as his fingers descended, pressing against your swollen, overstimulated clit, flicking harsh, precise strokes over the bundle of nerves.

“wet my dick, baby,” he groaned, his voice hoarse, shaking, desperate.

his cock twitched violently, the feeling of your tight, spasming walls squeezing around him, sucking him in, milking him for everything he had sending him dangerously close to the edge.

you could barely breathe—barely think—your body thrashing, pleasure swallowing you whole as the dam finally, violently shattered.

“fuck, jaeyun—!”

your hands shot down, gripping your own thighs, holding them open, wide, vulnerable, and then—you snapped.

your orgasm crashed into you like a violent wave, knocking the air from your lungs as liquid pleasure gushed out of you, squirting harshly, uncontrollably against jaeyun’s lower stomach and soaking his cock.

“oh, fuck—yeah, baby—fuck!”

his moan was loud, shameless, raw, his rhythm stuttering, his hips snapping forward in a series of fast, erratic thrusts.

his cock throbbed aggressively, the feeling of your release covering him, dripping down his abs, your walls still fluttering around him sending him spiraling right after you.

“fuuuck—” he gasped, his voice wrecked, trembling as his head fell forward, his grip on your thighs turning bruising.

and then—he came.

thick, hot ropes of cum spurted deep inside you, coating your walls, filling you completely, stuffing you full, each pulse flooding you even more.

his hips jerked in tiny, shallow thrusts, riding out the last waves of his climax, his chest heaving, his body shuddering, both of you a mess of tangled limbs, hot skin, and ruined breaths.

but when he finally pulled out, a soft whimper of protest left your lips, your walls clenching around nothing, already missing the stretch of him inside you.

his low, satisfied groan sent another shiver down your spine as he watched, completely enthralled, entirely mesmerized, as his cum spilled out of you, thick and messy, dripping down your thighs.

“fuck, baby—look at that.”

his fingers traced over your wrecked entrance, pushing some of the cum back inside, watching it slowly ooze out again, a dark smirk curling on his lips.

you were completely spent, body trembling, breath still unsteady, but in the back of your mind, one thing became clear.

maybe—just maybe—your hate for him had never been real to begin with.

maybe it had always been masked by something deeper, something filthier, something much, much worse.

and now?

it had been completely, irrevocably fulfilled.

natty’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ i hope you all liked it !!

[mangooes]

Fever season

Morning light bled lazily through the curtains of the master bedroom, bathing the Onychinus estate in a gentle golden hue. Outside, the city buzzed with its usual rhythm, the world moving on as if nothing were wrong.

But Sylus knew better.

He stood with arms folded at the entrance of their bedroom, crimson eyes narrowed as he watched his wife wobble toward the front door, dressed sharply in her office attire—though a little clumsily buttoned. Her shoes were mismatched. Her curls frizzed from damp sweat. And the way she blinked, clearly struggling to focus, only fueled the growing irritation in his chest.

“…Where do you think you’re going, kitten?”

(Name) froze, her hand on the doorknob, not daring to look over her shoulder. “To work,” she mumbled, though her voice cracked and rasped like an old record. “I have a meeting with—”

Sylus was behind her before she could finish, one arm sliding around her waist as the other pressed against her clammy forehead.

“(Name),” he said, voice low but soft, “you’re burning up.”

“I’m fine,” she coughed, trying to pull away.

“You’re not.”

“Sysy, it’s just a fever, I’ll be okay—”

“No.”

He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. The firmness in his tone alone made his wife stop squirming as he effortlessly swept her off her feet and carried her bridal-style back into the bedroom.

“I’m not a child—”

“No,” he muttered, eyes darkening slightly with worry as he laid her on the bed. “But you are my wife. And you’re not going anywhere but right here.”

The moment she made a move to sit up again, he leaned down and hugged her to the mattress, his full weight pressing her back against the sheets, arms coiling around her like a dragon protecting its hoard.

“Sylus,” she wheezed, muffled against his chest. “You’re… literally chaining me with cuddles—”

“You said ‘til death do us part,’ sweetie. You didn’t say anything about taking sick days from me.”

She groaned, weakly punching his side, but the effort was minimal. Her fever had clearly taken more of a toll than she admitted.

Defeated, (Name) huffed and rolled to the side, still caged in by his arms. “You’re overreacting…”

“I’m not. You were about to pass out in the hallway. Don't lie to me.”

“It’s just a—”

Sylus kissed her fevered temple gently. “Hush. Let me take care of you.”

And he meant it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The day transformed into a kind of peaceful war zone: Sylus vs. Fever.

He carried her soup with the same intensity as if it were a diplomatic offering to a foreign nation. He stirred it himself—though he almost burnt it before the twins took over under his growled threat of “make it good or I'll make sure you'll be doing errands like hell.”

He fed her by hand, tucking her in with blankets warmed by his Evol, carefully checking the temperature so it wasn’t too hot. He gave her medicine, gently brushing the hair from her eyes when she stubbornly grimaced at the taste.

“You’re treating me like I’m dying,” (Name) muttered hoarsely as he pressed a cold compress against her forehead.

“You looked like you were,” Sylus said grimly, frowning as he stared at the flush in her cheeks. “You hide it so well… too well. It scares me sometimes.”

(Name) blinked, caught off guard by the softness in his voice.

“You weren’t even going to tell me you were sick, were you?”

“…Didn’t wanna worry you,” she murmured.

He exhaled sharply, not out of anger—but fear.

“I always worry about you, kitten,” he said, voice cracking with honesty. “Every day. Whether it’s when you vanish into the streets of the N109 Zone alone, or walk out after our stupid fights, or when I come home and you’re just gone. And now you try to slip past me like this, with a fever that’s boiling your skin? What if you’d collapsed outside, without me to hold you?”

(Name) stared up at him, guilt flickering in her eyes.

“…I’m sorry,” she whispered, reaching up weakly to touch his jaw.

He leaned into her touch. “Don’t apologize, sweetie. Just… stay. Let me look after you for once.”

“…Okay,” she said, and that one word softened every storm inside him.

Still not trusting her to stay still, Sylus even went so far as to summon their private doctor, who arrived only to be greeted by a glaring, blanket-covered (Name).

“I said no doctors, Sylus!”

“You said you’d stay in bed,” he countered. “And I agreed to take care of you. Let the old man do his job.”

The doctor chuckled under his breath. “It’s just a mild fever,” he confirmed. “Your wife will recover in a day or two with proper rest.”

Sylus nodded sharply, already tucking her back under the blankets before the poor man could finish packing his bag.

'Ah, young love' the old man thinks.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Evening fell, and soft jazz hummed from the turntable in the background. The scent of fresh soup lingered in the air. (Name), drifting between sleep and consciousness, noticed Sylus start to leave the room.

He was quiet, moving only to tidy her purse and files she’d dropped in the living room earlier. But just as he crossed the threshold of the bedroom—

Her hand shot out, catching his wrist.

He turned, surprised.

Her eyes, bleary and vulnerable, locked with his.

“…Don’t go,” she whispered. “Stay with me, Sysy…”

And in that moment, every wall inside him crumbled.

Without a word, Sylus climbed back into bed, joining his wife, pulling her gently into his arms. Her head found the crook of his neck, her body melting into the security of his embrace.

He kissed the crown of her head and whispered, “Always.”

(Name) mumbled something incoherent, already halfway asleep.

But Sylus didn’t care. He just held her tighter.

No bloodbaths. No meetings. No threats lurking in the dark corners of the city.

Just him and the love of his life, buried beneath layers of warmth, wrapped in peace.

And for once, Sylus Qin, head of Onychinus—criminal lord, nightmare to his enemies—slept with a soft smile on his lips.

Because his entire world was in his arms.

HELLOO IM SORRY FOR NOT POSTING YESTERDAYY! I had been celebrating easter so happy easter everyone! I've spent the rest of the day brainstorming yesterday and yeah i hope my schedule goes back to normal~

[sierrale8ne]

celibacy / paige bueckers x fem!reader PART OF THE $$$4U COLLECTION ‘ it’s been four months and two weeks and 36 hours and eight minutes since you been pleased ’

summary after finding out you ended your sexual arrangement with paige for work purposes, she takes it upon herself to show you how much she’s been missing you and how badly she’s been needing you. warnings paige is a hornball that can’t comprehend why you’d want to obtain from having sex, sexual content, packing, strap-on sex, strap-sucking, spitting, literal cum eating like… p is a freak. from lena i felt like bringing back some old pairings so this is p x that reporter i wrote about a minute ago ( in my main masterlist titled easy access ) this is nasty, i’m ovulating so there’s that.

Paige had been accustomed to the life that came with being a star athlete: wake up, practice, treatment, class, nap, lift, and if all of that was completed, the occasional media interview.

Today was one of those days.

Her practice jersey is damp against her body, the navy blue compression shirt underneath clinging to her arms as she answers question after question. Tournament seeding, last year, the draft next month. All of it is the same, just enough for her to know exactly what to say and when to say it.

She stands patiently, arms crossed over her chest as she waits for the next question. And then it comes.

“Paige, is there any advice you’ve given your teammates— specifically Sarah and Jana— about how to handle the tournament now that they’re in it?”

Paige freezes.

It’s your voice, she’s known it well enough to be able to point it out in a crowd full of all other reporters. A voice she’s heard so many times that it became burnt into her brain— every tone, every shift.

You dig your way through to the front, and when Paige sees you— like really sees you for the first time in months— it’s the first time all day that her demeanor shifted. She’s always loved your work attire and how you prided yourself in looking your best. But today you’ve dressed down and she still thinks you look perfect. Low rise washed denim, New Balance sneakers on your feet, and a white shirt with some writing on the left shoulder that she can’t quite make out.

“I’m sorry, can you ask that again? I zoned out for a minute.” Paige clears her throat. The other reporters laugh but you stay focused, it your first media availability with Paige. You knew better than to crack, especially now. So you repeat the question, poised as ever and honestly Paige is a little shocked. She thought if anything you’d be just as off your game as she was. But you weren’t.

She stutters, and it’s so small that you almost miss it, but she answers anyways. “Just to embrace the moment. Pressure is a privilege, and they came here to preform on the biggest stage—” Her eyes bore into your own, blue like large pools of cerulean. The same eyes that once made you give up everything, toss away your morals, and submit to her. “— and we all got total confidence in them. Hopefully that translates to them having total confidence in themselves.”

You nod, thinking about how generic her answer was and how your boss would probably have something to say back at the office. It seemed like she always did, but that’s what came with being an intern, you’ve learned.

Media availability ends, and you are very glad that Paige was the last to be interviewed because you can’t wait to get away from her fucking gaze. You cut the recording on your phone, shoving it in the back pocket of your jeans, followed by sticking your notepad and pen in your purse.

You follow suit with everyone else, turning towards the practice facility’s exit doors to head back to the office. Until your stopped, a hand to your lower back that send a rush to your core.

You’re reminded of the first time. The way you danced against her at Ted’s her hand on your back, bending you over as you twerked her jeans, the feeling of the zipper against your ass. How she took you home, made your legs shake and your toes curl, just to become even more vulnerable with you in bed hours later. You learned a lot about Paige that night.

You learned even more about yourself.

That no matter what, as long as she was around you’d never be able to resist her.

It’s exactly why you turn towards face her right now, you hands cautiously gripping your purse and the other raking through your hair.

“Look who finally came to see me.” Paige’s nails rake along your skin, dangerously drawing you closer and closer to her.

You feel your knees getting weak already. She smells surprisingly good considering she just got out of practice, she looks even better. But you can’t. “Stop.” You groan, reaching back to brush her hand off.

“I’m just checkin’ on you, you good? It’s been a while.” Paige says, her voice sultry and a bit cheeky. She’s priding herself on the fact that she still has you like this.

“Paige, we’re not doing this here. I’m at work.” It reminds you of what you said the last time you had her. MSG in New York, another day you were supposed to be focused on work that ended up with Paige’s hand in your pants.

She nods, pretending to understand but the look on her face lets you know she’s thinking about anything but. “Okay, then come over later.”

The blonde had a way of making you go speechless every time you saw her, but right now you were literally at a loss for words. You made it clear when you cut her off— Paige was a distraction— so for her to stand here, so hellbent on getting you alone, in a way she once had you, was ridiculous.

You scoff, looking around at the now filing out hallway. You drag her off, fingers digging into the bicep that’s so fucking big you nearly are taken aback by it. “I’m not having sex with you, P. It’s done, you know that.”

“You’re tellin’ me whoever else you’re sleeping with makes it feel as good as me? Y’know that’s bullshit, ma.” She goes on, and you take a step back for your own sanity. A response bats around in your brain, you shouldn’t tell her the truth, she would get too confident. Too cocky. You didn’t need that.

It came out anyway, like word vomit. “I’m fucking celibate, Paige, there isn’t anyone else.” You grit through your teeth.

Paige’s eyes nearly glow and her mouth curls up into his God awful smirk that you’d want to slap off if she wasn’t so damn sexy. “You? You’re playin’.”

“I’m not. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to finish.” You mutter, walking across the hallway to the elevators plans sweating as you do what you know best. Work.

Your night ends with a much needed bath, soaking in the hot tub to soothe yourself of all the stress piled up throughout the day.

And the tension that only Paige Bueckers could give you.

She was good, you had to give her that. And what made it worse was that it was effortless. Paige didn’t have to say too much, or even touch you. All she needed was one moment, one instance where your demeanor shifts and your strength cracks and all of a sudden you’re her’s again.

You couldn’t shake your mind of her even if you tried.

And it made your core fucking throb.

When you finally do exit the bath— legs a bit sore from the attention you had given yourself between your legs— you cater to yourself. Legs smooth, and body smelling of sweet vanilla cashmere. You throw on some cute pajamas, matching silk with a top that fits you loosely. The plan is to get in bed, until you hear a knock at the door.

You trail to the door, manicured feet padding against the hardwood.

And then you open it.

And there she is.

At first, it’s like your mind is playing tricks on you. Because it’s been forever, and no one in their right mind would show up to their old fuck buddy’s apartment at this hour. Paige seems to be the exception.

She wears these dark grey Essentials sweatpants, slightly dirty and scuffed on the hems. They sag just enough for you to see a small edge of her Nike Pro’s when she lifts her arm over her head and her fingers run through her hair. Her hoodie matches, and that makes your knees buckle. The dark fabric makes her skin and hair look even brighter.

“Why are you here?” You sigh before she even gets a chance to speak. Being mean about it seems to be the only way you can think of to get her out. It’s for your own sanity anyway. You’ve never been able to rid her off for as long as you and Paige have known each other.

Obviously, you don’t know Paige.

Because she finds that so fucking attractive.

Paige bites her lip, trailing her eyes to your shoulder where the strap of your shirt has fallen. “I’m still on this celibacy thing. Like, are you sure? And why the hell would you want to do that?”

You have to laugh, because it’s hysterical that your vow to stay away from sex had UConn’s star player unable to think straight.

“Paige, I—”

“Seriously, we’re not having sex anymore because of what? Did I do something wrong? Am not doin’ it right, you gotta tell me.” Paige is babbling, and it makes you so embarrassed that you tug her inside the apartment before your neighbors can hear about it.

It’s unfathomable to you. “I didn’t think it was that hard for you to find someone else to sleep with, Paige.”

“It’s not! But you cut me off, and the first time I see you again you’re talkin’ bout some celibate. So, naturally I’m curious.” Paige attempts to explain, hands moving freely in the air as she talks and you stare at them the entire time. Her knuckles slightly red from the cold, veins adorning the back of her hand, and her long ass fingers. It was a taunt. As soon as you made it clear that you weren’t going, here she was. Testing you.

You take a step back, as if the distance would give you a clear head. “You’re a distraction.”

“What?”

“A distraction.” You speak up. “I can’t do my job with you texting me and telling me all the ways you want me in bed. I literally couldn’t focus.” You explain, and now that it’s said out loud you feel ridiculous.

Paige Bueckers was so good at fucking you, that it made it hard for you to do your job.

The blonde lets out a sigh of relief, dropping her arms down on your counter and leaning against it.

“You happy now?” You respond, sighing loudly.

“Ma—”

“No.” You cut her off quick. This is exactly how it went last time. And this time you had half a mind to know better.

“Let me get you there, baby. No distractions this time, I swear.” She murmurs, voice low and almost strained— hours of practice for the tournament to blame. “No way you don’t want it, ma, just please.”

Paige is walking towards you now, hands reaching for your hips and you let her. You actually don’t even think about moving. You can smell her cologne, warm and woodsy, sticking to the fabric of her clothes. Her hands trail off you to the hem of her hoodie, pulling it up and over her head.

Your eyes trail to the ground it falls on almost immediately, because Paige’s choice of a thin tank top and no bra leaves very little to your imagination.

“What do you want, ma?”

A whimper flies from your lips as her hand grips your chin, fixing you to look at her. Your hand grips her shirt for leverage, clinging to what’s left of your morals.

That’s when she knows she has you exactly where she wants you.

“Hmm? What do you want?” Paige repeats, dragging your hand down her abdomen until it rests at her sweatpants. And you feel it. Her sweats were baggy enough to conceal it, but as soon as you feel the length in your palm it’s clear that Paige was thinking about you the same way you were thinking about her in the bath. “You want it? ‘Cause y’know I’m always ready to give it to you.”

“I want it.” You whine, snaking a hand up to her neck, tugging her close to you.

Her breath fans your lips, a smile gracing her face that doesn’t even try to hide. “Yeah? Break this li’l streak you got goin on?” Her hand tugs your shirt strap lower down your arm, and the second it’s reached the furthest it could go you’re slotting your lips with hers.

She tastes like everything you’ve remembered her to be, minty but still sweet. Her lips are soft, vaseline smeared on them and transferring to your chin. You continue palming the strap through her sweats, and Paige groans like it’s an extension of herself.

“Want you.” You moan.

“I know. I got it, baby. I gotchu.”

Paige’s strap sits on your tongue as you greet it with tiny kitten licks. You should’ve known that Paige would’ve made your work for it after leaving her to dry for months. Which truly wasn’t your intention. Paige was attractive, women wanted her, and you expected her to get it elsewhere.

Obviously not.

Her back is flush to your couch, shirt hiked up to give you a view of her hardened nipples and perfect fucking abs. You grip the base, spit trailing down the length that you take into your mouth.

“Mhmm, put that fuckin’ mouth to work, baby. Lookin’ so sexy f’me.” She hums, pushing your still slightly damp hair out of your face.

You plant your hands to her thighs, taking the strap deeper just to prove that you can. A part of you thinks you enjoy showing out for Paige like this again, doing what she wanted when she wanted.

Her eyes flutter shut like she can feel your mouth, the warmth of your tongue running on the underside of her cock— and if she closes her eyes hard enough, she probably could. But the vibration is good enough.

“Four months. Four and a half fuckin’ months.” Paige says to herself between breaths.

You pull back to breathe, saliva connecting your lip to the tip. You’re completely mesmerized by her, you vulnerable she looks even when you’re the one on your knees with her cock in your mouth. You spit on it again, sucking it back into your mouth before taking the strap in again. You’re sure that Paige’s eyes roll into her head.

“You’re fuckin’ crazy.” She grunts, hips moving forward further towards you. “Gonna paint your face, I swear.”

Paige’s words send a throb to your cunt. You can almost picture it— her groans and slack jaw as she comes. You draw your hand between your legs, rubbing your clit that’s still covered by your pj’s. The stimulation makes you whine.

“That shit turns you on, ma? Just know you’re so fuckin’ wet.” Paige hums to herself. She decides to reach for your hair, tugging you up and off of her strap until you’re hovering over her.

Saliva dangles from your lip, and in her obvious lust, Paige sticks her tongue out. You’re left speechless. Paige was a freak, you knew that much, but she’s chasing after your fucking spit like she’s thirsty for it. Like she was dying in the desert and you were the only one to solve her thirst.

She almost slurps it up, the noise so vulgar that you moan in her face. Paige chases after your mouth, locking lips with you in a deep kiss. Your hips grind against the strap, paying no mind to the mess it’s going to create on your shorts.

“Need it inside me, P.” You plead.

“Celibate my fucking ass.” She groans against you, using her strength to push you to the other end of the couch. Her hands dig into your hips, clawing at your shorts so hard that you’re sure she’s going to rip them off of you.

You’ve never seen Paige like this, this needy, this horny. She dragged your mouth onto her cock with a fervor that was animalistic. Then now, her teeth nipping at your own lips so hard she might draw blood.

It’s hot.

It makes you upset that you held out on her for this long.

Paige’s hands slip to your shoulders, pushing the other strap down your arm and putting your tits on display for her. She breaks the kiss, lips trailing down your jaw, neck, and chest before finally reaching your nipple.

“Paige!” You moan, head thrown back in ecstasy as she pulls your shorts off next.

“No crotchless this time?” She jokes, making you think back to the last time she fucked you stupid. It gets her off, watching how desperate you are for her to make you come.

“I need you to fuck me,” You whine desperately, hand fisting a handful of Paige’s perfect blonde hair. “Please,” you beg. Your hips grind against the unbelievably long strap, almost as if they had a mind of their own.

“I like it when you beg.”

“I know.” You tug your black panties to the side. Paige smirks at how soaked you are, the way your slick drips through your folds. “Want your cock, P. Please.”

With your help in spreading your legs Paige is tapping the tip against you. The wetness of your pussy filling her ears like the sound of music. Your mouth falls agape at the sudden pressure. and she takes the opportunity to fill your mouth with her own spit. A fat glob falling on your tongue and you swallow it almost immediately.

“Tell me you want it again.”

You sob, body aching in need. “I want it, I want it, Paige.”

Without hesitation, the athlete thrusts forward, burying all eight inches balls deep inside you. It’s so foreign, months of being away from her to blame. A collective gasp escapes both of your mouths. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head while her mouth formed the perfect ‘O’. Paige eyes you like a piece of meat before connecting your lips again in a heated frenzy. Your back arched into Paige’s as she gripped your hips and began roughly pounding into your cunt.

“You hear her? Just screamin’ for this dick, baby.” Paige hums, her words sending a rush of more arousal out of you. A mixture of pleasure and ecstasy spread across your features as Paige established a fast and relentless pace. “You’re so fuckin’ easy.”

“Baby—”

She breaks the kiss. “Imma distraction, but you can’t get off without me. Can’t make this pussy cum the way I do.” The couch practically groans in protest, its durability tested as Paige’s grunts reverberated against your lips. The room filled with the intoxicating sound of your bodies colliding, skin slapping together in a sensual symphony that echoed off the walls.

You watch Paige tuck her shirt in her mouth, giving her a perfect view of not only where she digs you out, but your tits that bounce in her face.

She’s fucking the shit out of you. And that alone is enough to draw her close to that climax.

“Y-you— Paige, baby. You’re fuckin’ deep, fuckkkk!” Your eyes were tightly shut, face contorted in pure bliss as you cling to the blonde with every fiber of your being. Your legs wrapped around Paige’s thighs, ensuring that she couldn’t escape your embrace. “F-fuck! P!” You cry out.

“Fuck you stupid, yeah? Put yo’ ass to sleep. Make it feel so fucking good, huh?” She roughly pushed the fabric of your shirt over your head. The fabric slipped away, leaving you fully exposed. “Cover me in it, cum on me, ma.”

You want her closer, deeper, anything. So you wrap your arms around her neck, tugging the blonde so close that your forehead touches hers. She keeps thrusting, seemingly noticing that you needed more.

“I know you’re close.” You murmur, trying your hardest to keep your eyes focused on her. “Paige, oh my Goddddd—”

“Y—shit.” Paige’s legs tremble, and you notice the slight falter in her rhythm. “Fuck, you first.” She lets out a groan, followed by a chase of your lips. It’s soft, way softer than how she fucks you.

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming— I’m gonna cum, baby.” You babble over and over, your resolve fleeting your body as your orgasm creeps up on you. Paige lets out a high pitched gasp, her face flushed with overwhelming pleasure.

She tried to hold back, to maintain her composure, but failed miserably. A moan of pure bliss escaped her lips as she thrusts once more, practically balls deep into you as she comes. You let out a moan yourself as you feel the warmth taking over your body.

Paige doesn’t pull out, only pulling back enough to swipe her fingers over the ring of come that you’ve left behind. She brings her fingertips to her mouth, riding them out your taste.

“You left me out to fucking dry for four damn months?” Paige asks, her breathing labored from the exertion. She brings her hand down to your cunt, clit completely swollen. Almost desperate. “Left me without this shit for too long, ma.” She mumbles around her hand yet again.

She’s cleaning you up with her fingers, every bit of your release finding her tongue in almost desperate sweeps. You whine at the sensitivity, but let her.

Because it’s Paige, and you can’t fucking resist.

🔖 @thaatdigitaldiary @rosemariiaa @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch @d3arapril @wbbgetsmewetter @tndaqlwifwy @ykylalex @ohmybueckers @flipthepaige @janaelalfysblunt @cherryswisherz @courtsidewithlani @vamptizm @bdbueckers @makethemhoesmad @unadulteratedcyclepaper @omg-imtumbling @avvwritesstufff @luvnoirs

[hans-wh0re]

SKZ HYUNG LINE AND CHOKING

Warning: non con, extreme (kinda) breathplay, all of them are mean

Chan:

"The only sounds I wanna hear are you choking on my cock," Chan snarls as he tightens his vise-like grip on your throat. His hips snap forward with cruel force, burying his thick length into your spasming cunt to the hilt. You gurgle helplessly around the oxygen deprivation, eyes rolling back as he sets a punishing pace.

"F-Fuck… take it slut, just like that," he grunts, other hand threading into your hair to yank your head back at an obscene angle. Drool leaks from the corner of your parted lips with each savage thrust that knocks the air from your lungs.

He loosens his hold briefly to give you a split second of reprieve and your body instinctively bucks with a ragged inhale. But Chan is immediately squeezing again with wicked dominance, smile twisting viciously as your airway is cut off once more.

"Love listening to you try and breathe while i'm choking you," he growls, sloppy sounds of his brutal rutting filling the air. You feel yourself teetering on the brink of blackout, shuddering convulsively around the jackhammer pace splitting you apart.

Just when you think you're about to pass out from the dizzying rapture, Chan's grip shifts, closing off your throat entirely. You seize and buck beneath him with garbled, strangled wails as your entire world whites out into an overwhelming release. Through the delirium, you feel thick spurts of cum flooding your battered pussy in time with your own gushing orgasm…

Minho:

"Yes, that's my fucking girl," Minho croons as you writhe beneath his firm chokehold, nails digging crescent moons into the wrist constricting your breath. The filthy sounds of his thick cock pistoning in and out of your dripping slit accompany your feeble grunts and wheezes.

He slows his punishing thrusts momentarily, dragging the swollen head in maddening circles around your abused entrance before sheathing himself fully once more. Delirious with oxygen deprivation and the merciless stimulation, a pitiful whimper gurgles past your parted lips. Minho's eyes darken at the submissive sound.

"What's that, slut?" he sneers, grip tightening incrementally as he rolls his hips with agonizing languor. "You want more of this cock inside your worthless little fucktoy hole?"

You can only respond with another broken noise, desperation contorting your face as he withholds the breath you so crave. Smirking viciously, Minho releases your neck just long enough for you to drag in one desperate inhale before cutting it off again. He resumes pounding into your brutalized cunt at the same devastating pace, ignoring your garbled shrieks of overwhelmed rapture.

"M gonna keep you right on the edge like this," he pants harshly, damp hair clinging to his forehead with exertion. "Stuffed full of cock and just shy of passing the fuck out from how badly I'm choking you. What a lucky little fucktoy..."

Changbin:

"That pretty little face is gonna look so fucked when I'm done with you," Changbin growls, thumb digging cruelly into the hollow of your throat. His pelvis snaps forward with punishing force, burying his girth into your abused slit to the hilt as you choke out a gurgling wail.

You're drooling helplessly in your struggle to take air into your compressed airway, all rational thought obliterated by the fireworks detonating behind your eyes each time his cock splits you open. Pounding relentlessly, Changbin tightens the circle of his fingers around your neck, cutting off breath entirely. The oceanic rush in your ears grows louder as you convulse beneath him, mind blanking into euphoric white static.

Just as blackness begins creeping in at the edges of your vision, he finally deigns to loosen his hold. The oxygen flooding back into your lungs draws a shuddering wheeze of relief that's abruptly swallowed by another hoarse cry as Changbin's thick shaft slams home again. Your battered walls flutter around the brutal intrusion, gushing more of your grool to mingle with the mixture of your arousal already coating his pelvis and thighs in a sticky sheen.

"Fuck, you're gonna milk me dry, aren't you?" he pants, greedy gaze drifting between the sloppy mess your joined sexes have become and the punished, drooling 'o' of your lips struggling for air. "Go ahead, cum all over this fat dick stuffing you stupid, slut…"

Hyunjin:

Hyunjin's dark gaze burns with unrestrained possession as he tightens his grip around your delicate throat. The vicious squeeze elicits a gurgling, strangled cry as he sheaths his aching length fully inside your helpless, convulsing cunt.

"Look at you," he rasps, voice dripping with cruel dominance. "Such a depraved little fucktoy, gagging and choking on my cock like the thirsty set of holes you are."

He draws out with agonizing slowness, the lurid sounds of your arousal thick and obscene. Breathing raggedly through your teeth, you manage to roll your hips in a desperate bid for more friction against the delicious stretch of his girth. Hyunjin watches with darkly amused eyes before abruptly slamming back in to the hilt, never releasing the bruising squeeze cutting off your breath.

Each punishing thrust rips a strangled, gurgling wail from your swollen lips as you writhe and buck violently beneath him. Drool and streaks of your mixed arousal smear between your gasping mouths - you delirious with white-hot euphoria, he coldly focused and ruthless in his domination.

Without warning, Hyunjin shifts his grip, fingers curling around your throat in a vice that fully cuts off oxygen. You seize with a sobbing shriek of rapture as your entire body is set alight, an orgasm of earth-shattering intensity tearing through you like a shockwave. Spots of blackness encroach on the edges of your vision. Just as you start to go limp, hurtling helplessly toward that blissful abyss, Hyunjin releases his grip.

The gasping inhale you manage to wheeze as stars explode behind your fluttering lids is abruptly choked off once more as Hyunjin resumes his merciless pace, maniacal fervour coursing through his frame.

"I haven't given you permission to pass out yet, slut," he snarls, voice edged with insane menace. "Gonna keep you right on that brink, stuffed full and denied air until I've properly bred your slutty womb..."

Overwhelmed shrieks and garbled pleas spill from your abused throat as Hyunjin relinquishes and reinstates the breath-stealing clutch at cruel, calculated intervals - keeping you pinwheeling in the vertigo of orgasmic delirium. He shows no signs of slowing, ruthlessly extending your torture of euphoria into a realm where rapture and agony have blurred indistinguishably...

A.N: Not me writing this at work and praying that nobody walks into my office without me noticing 💀💀

[moonpjs]

CRAVE — na jaemin

a/n: I saw a 5 sec video on twt and I needed a longer version so I had to write about it with one of the dreamies. And I didn’t forget about you @thefirst-yet-thelast so here you go :3

18+ mdni

“F-fuck, baby.” Jaemin’s delicate hands grip the plush of your hips as you straddle his lap, guiding you slowly onto his cock, unsteady breaths slipping through his parted lips as the fabric of your pink laced panties rub against him. Becoming increasingly damp at each roll of your hips, each sound that came from your boyfriend and each teasing squeeze he gave your hips.

You grasp the hem of his compression shirt for stability, unintentionally lifting it higher up his abs, cock sitting prettily against his stomach, tip flushed red as it leaks precum.

He's practically drooling at the sight of you on top of him, wearing nothing but those panties he bought for you just a week ago. Tits just begging to be touched as they rise and fall with every heavy breath. Lips glistening with spit from where they'd been trapped between your teeth. And he can't miss your sweet whimpers that sound like music to his ears. God, you're driving him crazy.

“Jaem.” you whine, dropping your head back from the intense pleasure. Hearing you moan his name goes through both ears and shoots straight down to his cock, and now you're barely controlling your own hips. You’re more or less moving by his strength alone, admiring each flex of his biceps as he leads your soaked core onto his length. He's desperate with it. Allowing Jaemin to control you so effortlessly drew you closer to where you needed to be and that familiar feeling grows within you.

Your eyebrows slightly knit together as the pressure on your clothed clit increases, feeling his hips begin to buck up into you, looking at you with half-lidded eyes filled with nothing but desire.

“Keep going, princess,” he groans, as if he's not the one doing 90% the work, using you to get off. But were you one to complain? Of course not. “just like that.”

“Fuck,” you squeal, gripping his shirt harder as you reach closer and closer. “I’m gonna-”

“Cum for me, baby”

Your walls clench around nothing as you finally tip over the edge, slick covering your panties as if they weren’t drenched enough. Endless moans leave your lips, continuing to feel Jaemin’s cock slide beneath you, helping you ride out your orgasm and bring him closer to release.

His eyes screw shut, warm cum shooting out onto his stomach with a deep groan. His movements waver as he becomes more sensitive, not stopping until he's released his whole load.

As Jaemin comes down from his high, the grip on your hips eases, and your breathing starts to slow down, biting your lip at the sight of the mess he made. And just as you lift a leg up to leave the position on his lap, he's quick to grab hold of your thigh, stopping you and making you sit back down. He pulls the strap of your panties away from you before letting it smack against your skin, making you yelp.

“I’m not done with you yet, doll.”