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prael · 2 months ago

Text

Head-To-Head

Itzy Yuna & Artms/Loona Heejin x male reader smut [Commissioned fic]

Masterlist word count: 13,663 Kofi(donations/commissions)

There must be a reason. There's always a reason.

Yuna has this look in her eye when she's up to something, and she's always up to something.

She's the one who always has a plan to execute, a scheme to concoct, an idea to hatch. Everything usually aligns with a single, specific purpose: to be the best. To beat everyone at everything. It's why she's captain of the debate team and the track team. It's why she's the president of the student council. She's the type of person to do every possible extracurricular there is, and to dominate them all, no matter how small, no matter how seemingly irrelevant.

Though her every achievement is matched by another, and it eats at her like nothing else.

She's got this sweet smile, a gentle lilt to her voice, and the most charming laugh, but you've known her long enough to understand that none of it means she's on your side. Not always, anyway. Not until she's figured out what she wants. (You're not saying it's all fake. She is a sweet person, really. But there's something else behind her eyes that never disappears completely, no matter how hard she tries to cover it up.)

"Have you eaten today? You look a little pale," Yuna says, her brow furrowing with worry.

"I'm fine," you reply. "I had lunch. Just... a little tired."

"Are you sure? I don't want you to go hungry or overwork yourself. I'm sure it's tough being the principal's son. Are you eating your meals on time?"

Even for Yuna, this is a bit too much. A full-court press of concern, all focused on you. It feels like a trap. "Seriously, I'm okay. I'm just trying to work on a little project."

"Can I help?" She asks as she's already pulling her chair closer to you, so she's practically peering over your shoulder. "What are you working on?"

"It's not difficult. I'm fine. Thank you."

"Two minds are better than one," she playfully says as she leans in a little closer, her hair falling on your shoulder and touching your cheek. Then there's the smell, an expensive, intoxicating fragrance that sends a shiver down your spine and a warmth deep inside your gut.

"Yuna," you say, and even you're not quite sure if you're protesting or pleading. "I'm fine. You don't need to."

You feel her hand on your back. It's warm. Her thumb strokes back and forth. The pressure is gentle but persistent. "It's what friends are for, they help each other out," she says softly.

The touch is comforting, almost enough to make you melt right there on the spot. "I have to be able to do this alone. Thank you, really, thank you, but I'll be okay."

Her hand moves up, and now it's resting on the back of your neck. You can't help but tense up a little bit, and she must notice because her hand goes away.

"If you say so," Yuna says. "Then how about you let me buy you dinner later? It'll be my treat."

"No, no," you quickly reply. "You don't have to."

"Please, I insist. It'll make me feel better."

She's so convincing. That's the thing about Yuna. She has the kind of voice and manner that makes you believe whatever it is she's saying. You feel a strange sense of urgency, the way she says this, the way she's looking at you. You can't say no. "Okay. Thank you."

"See you after school." She stands up and walks out of the classroom.

That was weird. There's an explanation for it, but there's no way she could know, is there? She's always two steps ahead of everyone. How could she have found out about it when your father only told you the day before?

Your stomach growls.

Maybe you should have actually eaten lunch.

There are no classes at the moment, not with graduation right around the corner and the last of the finals coming to an end. You're sitting in the afternoon sun, enjoying the quiet before the evening rush. The breeze is cool and pleasant, and the grass is soft and plush. It's a good day to sit and relax.

There are not many people out in the courtyard, but you recognise the one that's been sitting out here almost as long as you have.

Heejin's sitting against a tree. Her hair is a little messy, as usual, but the soft breeze keeps it from being too unruly. Her clothes are a little loose as if she doesn't care about how she looks. She looks so peaceful, so tranquil, as she reads the book in her lap. She has her headphones on, listening to music and blocking out the rest of the world.

She's cute, you think.

You should probably stop staring.

(You're trying not to, you swear, but there's just something so... easy on the eyes, about Heejin.)

There's a sudden swirl of wind, a little stronger than before, that blows the trees. Leaves are swirling and fluttering, and the swaying of the branches breaks the shade that Heejin's tree provides. A ray of sunlight shines down on her, bright and beautiful. The glow makes her seem to shine, but she doesn't appreciate it, it blinds her for a moment, and you see the way her eyes narrow, and the annoyed look on her face.

It's enough to pull her out of her trance. Her gaze moves, and her eyes lock with yours. Her expression is flat and unamused. You can almost feel her judgement from here.

Oh. Yeah. Right. That's what you get for staring. You look away.

"Hey."

Oh no.

"Can we talk?"

You look up, and Heejin's standing over you. She's not smiling, but she's not frowning, either. Her face is neutral and expressionless, but you know it's because she doesn't have anything nice to say.

"Hi, uh," you nervously stammer. "What's up?"

She gestures at the space on the bench next to you. "Can I sit?"

"Go ahead." You slide a little bit to the side.

Heejin takes a seat. "I heard something from a friend, and I was wondering if it was true," she says. "I wanted to hear it from you directly, so I'm going to ask you."

"Yeah?"

Heejin looks at you straight on. She's not one to hold back. "Is your dad asking you to decide between me and Yuna for valedictorian?"

There it is. Confirmation of your suspicions. It makes little to no sense how it got out so quickly, or how it got out at all. The whole thing was meant to be a secret, after all. You hesitate to say anything.

She doesn't seem offended that you haven't answered. Instead, she says, "You don't have to tell me. I already know it's true."

You don't have an answer to that. Heejin is like this; one-sided conversations, like she has her own way of thinking about things. She's a bit blunt and brusque, and it's a bit jarring. It's the kind of honesty and openness that's a bit too raw to be considered polite.

"You don't seem very surprised," you finally reply.

Heejin gives you a shrug. "It's not surprising. The school's a bit of a mess. I'm not sure the principal has his shit together." She looks at you with a slight smirk. "No offence."

You let out a little chuckle. "Yeah. It's okay."

"Your dad's a little..." Heejin makes a vague gesture with her hand. "He's trying. He's trying to be a good principal, I can tell, but he's just a little, y'know, not great."

"I get it."

She lets out a soft laugh and shakes her head. "Well, he's your dad, I shouldn't shit talk him too much. But I mean, it's a pretty big deal that he's making his son pick between the top students. I think that's messed up, honestly."

"To be fair, there's no way to split the two of you," you try to explain. "You're putting up the exact same scores, all across the board. You're tied."

"Yeah. I know. I know." She leans back a bit on the bench and lets out a long sigh. "Yuna's tough to compete against. She always has her head in the game. She's got that look in her eye when she's on to you." Heejin looks at you. "You know what I mean, right?"

You nod your head in agreement. "I know."

"I've come to a conclusion: there's only one way to beat her. You know what I have to do, right?"

"...What?"

Heejin gives you a smirk and leans in. She rests her hand on your thigh. Your eyes go wide in shock, and she lets out a little giggle. "I have to convince you to let me be valedictorian." Her fingers squeeze the inside of your leg. "I can persuade you, right?"

Your hand snaps down to her wrist and holds her. "Heejin," you say, and your voice is a little shaky. "What are you—"

"Don't play dumb, I've seen the way you look at me," Heejin interrupts. "I see it, the way you're checking me out. I'm hot, right? You can say it, I don't mind."

She's such a straight shooter, there's no other way to describe her. There's no double entendre or sneaky little insinuation or subtle implication. It's just plain and simple. Heejin says exactly what she wants, no more, no less. There's something attractive about that. Something... exciting.

But this is a lot to process, especially when her hand's on your leg.

"I... um, I," you stutter. "I..."

"What the hell is this!?"

Oh no.

The voice makes the two of you jump a little. Yuna's marching up to the both of you, and she doesn't look happy. You let go of Heejin's hand, but it doesn't make much difference. Her hand's still on you, after all.

"Are you really stooping so low?" Yuna demands, pointing at Heejin.

"Talking to my friend? That's stooping low, now?" Heejin asks, raising an eyebrow. Her voice is casual and indifferent, almost as if she's goading her. "I can't talk to my friend anymore?"

"Get your hands off him, Heejin. It's not a good look." Yuna crosses her arms. "Don't you have any self-respect?"

Heejin lets go of your leg, but she's as unflustered as ever. "I was just talking to my friend. I can talk to him, can't I?"

"He has a lot on his mind. He doesn't need you distracting him."

Heejin rolls her eyes and starts on the defensive. "I wasn't doing anything like that." She stands up. "He has enough brains to think for himself." She looks at you, and there's a little smirk on her lips. "Right?"

You're about to reply, but Yuna steps between you and Heejin, the skirt resting on her wide hips in front of your face and blocking your view of Heejin. She's staring at Heejin. Her eyes are narrowed. "I don't know what you were doing, Heejin. But it wasn't just talking."

"I was giving him my suggestion," Heejin answers.

Yuna shakes her head. "He doesn't want your 'suggestions', whatever that is."

"He can speak for himself, y'know? He's a smart kid," Heejin says, a little more sharply. "If I wanted his attention, he'd give it to me. He knows what he wants. Don't you?" She asks, looking over at you with a little twinkle in her eye.

"I..." You swallow. It's a bit difficult to think when there's so much going on. "I..."

Heejin laughs a little at how you're a little lost for words. Yuna, though, is not nearly as amused. She steps closer to Heejin and leans in to say something. You don't hear what she's saying. It's too quiet for you to make it out. Heejin listens, and her smirk fades.

"Fine. Whatever," Heejin says. She walks away without a single glance at you.

"Wait," you say to her, standing up. You're about to follow her, but Yuna steps in the way again, and her expression makes you stop.

"What's wrong?" Yuna asks, blinking her wide, innocent eyes. "Is something the matter?"

"I was just gonna say goodbye," you reply. It seems silly to try to explain this, and Yuna is looking a bit impatient. You decide not to say more. "Never mind."

She smiles and links arms with you. She's a lot more close than she's usually been. She's pressed up to your side, her arm entwined with yours, her chest pressed up against your shoulder, soft and warm. You try to ignore it. You're trying not to read too much into things. But it's a little tough when Yuna's the one being affectionate like that. "I was thinking," she says, "we can grab some pizza for dinner if you don't mind."

You take a final glance at Heejin as she walks away. Her backpack is slung over one shoulder. Her headphones are back on. Her head is held high as she walks with a strut. Those long bare legs protrude from under her skirt.

Yuna pulls at you. "Come on."

Dinner is, well, dinner. You and Yuna talk, about the usual things. You both chat about what's next after graduation and then she tells you about her family and how her sister has been annoying her lately. You listen. You nod. You talk. You eat. You talk again. It's a little weird, but it's nice, and the pizza's great. You're grateful.

But you know it's all a game.

If Heejin knows the power you've been handed, then Yuna does, too. And if both of them know, then the only way to get ahead of each other is by being more persuasive. Heejin had a... direct method. Yuna, though, she's more subtle, but you're sure her intentions aren't any less self-centred.

She turns the conversation to questions, focusing on you, rather than her. She's batting her eyelashes as she asks you questions about the school, about your family, about your friends. It's all innocent enough, but you're not stupid. You've known Yuna long enough to understand how she's playing you. And she's good at it. It's almost too easy to fall under her spell, to fall for her charms. The way she leans closer to you. How her fingers run across your palm, tracing little circles. The way she laughs at all your jokes, even the ones you know are dumb. How her smile is always on her lips. How her eyes sparkle whenever she's listening. The way she tilts her head and pouts when she doesn't quite get something.

"You're so lucky to be the principal's son," she says as if it isn't an excuse to bring up the whole reason she's even sitting with you. "Must be fun having all the connections."

"It's not a big deal." You shrug. "He just treats me like a normal student." Mostly. "I don't get anything out of it. He's a little strict on me, honestly."

"I don't know, there must be some perks to it," Yuna insists. "I'd kill to be able to have that kind of privilege."

"Yeah? Like what?" you ask. You take another sip of your drink.

"I don't know." She runs a hand through her hair, brushing the strands out of her face, and lets out a little laugh. "You get to be first for everything, don't you?"

You shrug. "Not really."

"And you can probably flunk a class and just make your dad pass you anyway." She winks. "No?"

"Not how that works," you reply. You're getting the sense she's trying to work up to a point.

"Okay, maybe not, but there's got to be something good." She smiles. "You've got any secrets?"

You raise an eyebrow. "What kind of secrets?"

"Oh, come on," she playfully insists. "I bet your dad's told you all the juicy gossip about the teachers and staff, right? Or maybe even about students?"

You don't answer. She takes that as an affirmative.

"Oooh, you're holding out on me. I wanna know!" Yuna grabs your hands and leans closer to you. Her shirt hangs low on her neck, exposing a little more cleavage than you're comfortable seeing. "Tell me a secret. Something interesting."

"Like what?" you ask. You know you probably should lean away, but it feels a bit too rude to do that.

"Anything. Something fun." She squeezes your hand. "I promise I won't tell. Come on. Just between the two of us."

You feel like she's closing in on you. You can smell the faint scent of her perfume, just like earlier in the afternoon, and her eyes are twinkling, her lips pouting ever so slightly. The warmth of her skin against yours, the way her thumb is rubbing your palm. "Okay, fine." You look around, making sure no one else can hear. "The art teachers, she, uh..."

"Yeah?"

"She's getting a divorce, turns out she's into women."

"Oh my god." She blinks and covers her mouth in surprise. "No way."

"It's true," you say. "There's been a whole thing, her husband found out about an affair, it's all messy. Don't tell anyone, okay? I wasn't meant to tell."

"I won't," she says, a coy smile on her face. "Don't worry. I can keep secrets. Your secret's safe with me." She leans back, but her hand doesn't let go of yours. "But it's not just gossip, right? Does your dad ever, you know..." Her other hand joins her first, her palms rubbing your knuckles, her skin warm and soft against yours, her fingers stroking and massaging you. "Ask you for advice? Maybe you have some sway on how things get run at school, huh? I'm just curious, I swear."

It's an obvious question, and it's the kind that you expected she might try to ask, eventually. "Sometimes, yeah."

She nods. Her hands don't stop. They continue to caress and stroke, her touch gentle and comforting, but also firm, persistent, almost suggestive. The sensation makes you tingle a little, a little buzz running through your body. "That must be fun," she murmurs. "So has he asked for any advice lately?"

You know exactly what she wants, but she hasn't quite asked for it directly. You decide to tease her. "Yeah. I guess he's asked a bit recently."

"Oh, really?" She leans forward again, her lips just inches away from yours. "Like what?"

"About, uh, some stuff," you answer vaguely. You can't tell her exactly, you want to hear her ask it.

"Maybe I could help. Maybe we can talk about it and figure it out together." Her hand's moving up from yours and now she's stroking up your forearm, slowly rubbing it. Her touch feels so good, and her eyes are locked on yours, unblinking, her gaze focused solely on you. She bites her lip a little. "If he asked about something like... I don't know..."

You smile. She knows. And she's playing coy, pretending that she doesn't know what she wants. You can't let that stand. You can't let her get away with it. "Spit it out."

"Maybe..." Her eyes glance to the side. "...who to choose for valedictorian?"

It's about time she asks. "And what do you think?" you ask, a sly grin creeping up on you. "You got a suggestion?"

Yuna blushes a little and lets out a giggle. "Me."

"You?"

"Yeah. I think I'd be the best fit. Don't you?" She bats her eyelashes. "My scores are the best—

"—Joint best."

"And my extra-curricular; I have the most—"

"—Joint most."

"And I'm the president, captain, leader of—"

"—Joint leader, captain and president."

"Are you just gonna keep doing that?" Yuna pouts.

"Doing what?"

"Joint," she says, imitating you, her voice lowering. "Joint. Joint. Joint. I mean, yeah, I get it. But you can't say that Heejin is really better than me, is she?"

You shrug.

"Is she? I don't think she is. I know her grades are as good as mine, but she doesn't put in as much work as me. I've been putting my blood, sweat and tears into all these clubs, all the things I'm in. She's just... doing things because she has nothing better to do. I'm actually trying, I'm working so hard, and I know that's worth something." She gives you a look that's somehow innocent and imploring, while simultaneously persuasive. "I deserve to be valedictorian."

You're not going to argue with her, she does deserve it. They both do.

Yuna keeps going, "You can help me, you know. We're friends. I've always been nice to you, haven't I? Do this for me and I'll owe you. Big time. I mean it. I will be very, very, grateful."

She trying so desperately to entice you, and she's doing her very best. The way her eyes twinkle and flutter as she speaks to you. The way her voice goes a little high-pitched and squeaky, the way she pouts her lips and widens her eyes. She leans so far over the table that she hits her drink and sends it tumbling. The glass shatters as it hits the floor and the two of you flinch from the sound.

"Oh my god!" Yuna gasps. "I'm so sorry, oh my god!" She jumps off her chair. The staff are quickly making their way over, and Yuna immediately apologises to them, a look of utter embarrassment on her face. "I'm sorry, it was an accident!"

The staff wave it off and start to clean up. You offer to help, but they refuse, so instead, you think it best to pay and call an end to dinner.

"That's so embarrassing, oh my god," Yuna groans. She covers her face with her hands and shakes her head. "I'm such an idiot, I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it, it was an accident." You smile. The sun has almost set and the sky has turned a dusky orange and purple. The cool breeze in the evening air is pleasant and relaxing. You let out a sigh. You feel refreshed, and there's something to appreciate about the quiet. But the night's coming in, and you know you have to go back. "I'll walk you home," you offer.

Yuna smiles at you gratefully, and the two of you make the trip together.

The lady's dorms aren't far from your own. You're about to leave and head home when Yuna suddenly grabs you by the wrist. "Wait, don't go yet."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just want to give you something before you go."

"Like what?" you ask. "I already owe you dinner, so..."

"No, no, don't worry about that. This is something different." Yuna steps close to you and wraps her arms around you. You tense up, unsure, but you let her embrace you, her arms around your waist and her hands against your back. "A hug."

"A hug?"

"Yup. A big hug." Yuna rests her chin against your chest, looking up at you. Her eyes are twinkling and her smile is sweet. She squeezes you tighter and leans into you. "For being a good friend. For listening to me talk about all the stupid things in my life. For coming out to dinner with me." Her hand rubs against your back. "And for being so nice."

"Um..." You're a little taken aback by this sudden act of kindness. You wrap your arms around her, too, hugging her back. You're not quite sure if this is a bit much. Yuna can be friendly, but this feels a little excessive, even for her. She's holding onto you, her body pressed up against yours, and it's making you a little uncomfortable. "Thanks. That's, uh, really nice. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Yuna murmurs and her voice is low and soft, her eyes staring right at yours, unblinking. Her body is so soft against yours, her skin feels smooth and warm, and her embrace feels like it's melting into your own. You can't help but notice her body, her curves, the way her hips and chest seem to press into you. It feels like she's trying to make you notice. "So... do you think you'll help me?"

"Help you?" you ask.

"About... y'know..." Yuna tilts her head a little and leans back to look up at you, but her hands stay firmly planted on your back. She smiles playfully. "The valedictorian thing?"

"I, um, I haven't really—"

"—thought about it? Yeah. Okay." She pouts. "Do you need more time?"

"Maybe," you admit. "I haven't really been—"

"—been thinking about it. I know." Yuna steps back and lets you go. She smiles at you again, but this time, it seems a bit more... sultry? Seductive? "Okay, fine. But you'll have my eternal gratitude if you help me, I swear."

She turns and skips into her building, and you stand there for a second, watching as the doors close behind her. Then, you turn and start walking back to your dorm. It's dark out and you have a long walk, so you decide to take the scenic route. You pass by the school fields, past the baseball and soccer grounds, and then you pass the gym and pool buildings. Finally, you cross the courtyard, heading for your dorm.

You're about halfway across when you notice a figure on the benches. The same figure as earlier.

"Aren't you cold?" you call out, walking up to Heejin. She's still in her uniform, but she doesn't seem to be wearing anything to protect her from the night chill. She's still sitting there, legs crossed and head resting on one hand.

She looks up at you as you approach. "A little, yeah."

"Why are you out here?"

"Why not?" She shrugs. "It's nice. Peaceful."

You can't argue with that. You look up at the night sky and take a deep breath, letting the cool air fill your lungs. The silence is nice. It feels like the world has stopped, the universe has paused to give you a moment of quiet. "You can still enjoy it while wearing a jacket, maybe a hoodie. Switch out that skirt for some sweats."

Heejin smiles. "You sound like my dad."

"I didn't know your dad was such a smart guy."

"He isn't," she jokes. She lets out a soft laugh, and then she looks back up at you. "So why are you out here?"

"Walking home. Passing by."

"Did she take you somewhere nice?" Heejin suddenly asks with a knowing smirk. There's no malice in her voice. If anything, she sounds amused.

"Dinner. Pizza."

"Sounds romantic," she remarks, with the tone of someone who means the exact opposite. "Did it work? Are you persuaded?" She leans back on the bench, stretching her arms out and spreading them wide across the back. Her position exposes more of her, the skirt rising higher. You can see the smooth curves of her legs, the muscles that have developed from years of track and dance. They look inviting.

"It was just dinner. We talked. That's all," you explain.

"Just talked," Heejin repeats. She's clearly sceptical. "Just talked," she repeats again, emphasising it.

"Just talked," you reaffirm.

"Sure. Fine," Heejin says with a playful roll of her eyes. She leans forward now, clasping her hands together and settling them between her bare knees. She leering at you, now. Her smirk is suggestive, even seductive. It feels like she's toying with you, almost mocking you. "What did she offer you?"

"Uh, nothing. Just that she would owe me one."

"Yeah, she would owe you one," Heejin drawls, nodding her head patronisingly. "Bet she said it with real suggestive eyes, too, and she touched you, maybe held your arm or something, right? Like, really obviously trying to imply she'll fuck you if you made her valedictorian?"

Your throat runs dry and Heejin just laughs to herself.

"At least I know what I'm up against," Heejin remarks. She stands up, slings her bag over her shoulder, and steps closer to you. She's looking straight at you. Her expression is stern, determined, and serious. Her eyes are narrowed and intense, staring into yours, penetrating through you. "Here's my counter-offer: I'll suck you off, right now. We'll go to your room, you sit down on the bed, take off your pants, I'll drop to my knees and blow you."

Holy shit, Heejin's really serious. She doesn't blink, her gaze remains focused on you.

"Then you pick me. You make me valedictorian."

You're silent. Speechless. There's no subtlety, no suggestion, no implication, no hinting. There's a credit to be given for honesty. You can respect the fact that she's not hiding what she wants, or trying to play games or manipulate you. It's refreshingly direct and simple. And yet, it's Heejin. The girl who quietly sits in class and aces every test. Who beats everyone's times in track. Who performs in competitions as a hobby. Everyone admires her. Everyone wants to be her friend. To have her say that, to offer that...

"You're blushing," Heejin says, smirking. She steps even closer, standing on her tip-toes, bringing her mouth closer to your ear, her hot breath hitting you and making you shiver. "Take me to your dorm," she whispers. "I'll make you cum until you can't even think anymore."

There's not an ounce of shame in her. Not the slightest hint of guilt. She's absolutely certain that she's in control and that you're weak and malleable, willing to succumb to her. She's got no doubt in her mind that she's completely dominating you, that she's utterly in charge.

Yuna throws herself onto her bed, feeling incredibly pleased with herself. Step one is complete. She picked out a cute outfit that looked innocent, but still enticing. She chose a restaurant that had a casual atmosphere, but still allowed them to sit and talk comfortably. She held his hand, she stared deeply into his eyes, she smiled at him and laughed at all his stupid jokes. And yes, it was embarrassing when she accidentally spilt her drink, but it worked out! He walked her home and gave her a hug, which was perfect. A perfect opportunity to tempt him with her body, and show off her curves. A preview of what he can have if he obeys. If he bends to her will.

Ryujin is listening to all the details of how Yuna thinks she has you wrapped around her little finger. Ryujin can't help but shake her head at her friend's naivety. Sure, maybe she got a few moments where she could entice you, but Ryujin knows you can't be won over by cheap tricks and flirtatious looks. What you need is someone more bold. Someone bolder, someone who will make the first move, and then take charge.

"...and then we hugged, and he was totally into me, I felt his heart beat faster, he was sooo excited," Yuna enthusiastically tells Ryujin. "And then he was just staring at me as I walked up the steps. He was, like, ogling my legs."

"Wow," Ryujin answers, with little enthusiasm. "Did he agree to make you valedictorian?"

"Kinda," Yuna answers. "Well, no. But he will. Trust me."

"You think that's enough? Empty promises and some light flirting?" Ryujin shakes her head and lets out a dismissive laugh. "Bare minimum."

"What? Do you want me to just ask him outright if he wants to bang? That's not how people work, they aren't direct like that," Yuna protests.

"You think Heejin is just gonna do the same? You think Heejin's gonna hold his hand and giggle at his shitty puns?"

"Yes," Yuna insists.

"Nope," Ryujin immediately corrects. "If she finds out that you took him out to dinner and tried to flirt with him, she's going to do something about it."

"Like what?"

"She's going to beat you. She's going to be bold, brash, and blunt, and she's going to seduce him so hard he doesn't have a choice," Ryujin confidently replies.

Yuna scoffs. "Yeah, right. Heejin's gonna seduce him? Please." She rolls her eyes and waves a dismissive hand. "She's pretty but there's no way she's going to throw herself at him."

Even as Yuna says it, the doubt creeps into her mind. Heejin did have her hand on your lap. And her legs... she wasn't exactly covering much. What if she takes it a step further? That uncertainty turns into something else, and Yuna starts to feel a little paranoid. "Oh my god," she says, a frown on her face, sitting up as if she's suddenly had a revelation. "So, hypothetically, maybe, just maybe, she somehow finds out that I went to dinner with him. Maybe, hypothetically, she decides to act, like, bold and seduce him."

Ryujin gives a long sigh and shakes her head. "That's exactly what she's gonna do. There's only one person on earth who cares about accolades as much as you, and that's Heejin. She's going to get what she wants, and that's graduation as valedictorian, even if she has to give up her dignity to do it." Ryujin tilts her head and adds, as if it were obvious, "You should be in his room right now."

"Fuck."

Yuna left the dorm immediately, and she is walking that same route you did just ten minutes earlier, her entire body charged with a sense of urgency, her heart pumping with nerves. She's trying to stay calm, but there's no way to not admit that this is, potentially, bad. Very bad.

The anxiety gnaws at her, and as she rushes through the darkness, she starts to wonder what Heejin might be doing right now, what she might say to him, and the kind of persuasion she might use. She doesn't trust Ryujin's words, no, but they keep echoing in her head.

'She's going to be bold, and brash, and blunt, and she's going to seduce him so hard he won't have a choice.'

The thought strikes her, the terrible feeling of just not knowing what's going on in your room. Yuna wants to bash down your door, throw herself in, and see for herself. It's driving her a little crazy.

Yuna takes a moment to process what this could mean for her, what could possibly be going on behind the walls, in the building ahead of her. She can't just walk in alone, no, it's the men's dorm. But... she overheard it once. A few guys were jealous that you had the solo dorm, the big room on the bottom floor at the end of the building. So she could probably work out which window is yours. Then, well, one look inside to see you relaxing, hopefully, alone...

Yuna steps off the path and begins to round the building. It's dark and quiet out, but that just makes her feel like it's even more indecent and dirty that she's finding excuses to spy on you. There are no lights on in the rooms above, it looks like everyone else in the building is either asleep or has gone out for the night. Your window, though, your room... there's definitely a light on.

She draws close, and when she rounds the corner, she peeks up. There's you, just standing in the room. Just the sight of you alone gives her relief.

Until the peeks a little further. Her eyes go wide and her breath catches in her throat.

It's Heejin.

She's on her knees, still wearing her uniform, but with the top few buttons popped, and her hair tied up in a ponytail. You're looking down at her, eyes fixed on hers. One hand's in her hair, your fingers running through it, stroking her hair. You look so pleased, so satisfied. So relaxed and comfortable.

Heejin's hands are on your hips, and Yuna notices her long, elegant fingers pressing into you. She looks so confident, so smug. So in control. So in charge. Yuna can feel the rage inside.

How could this be possible? This can't be happening. There's no way. There's no way.

Heejin grabs your hip and drags you closer, her other hand sliding up under your shirt. Her nails lightly scrape against your skin. She smiles when you flinch, and the expression on your face shows you're enjoying yourself.

Under her breath, Yuna mutters, "No fucking way. She's..."

She's sucking your cock.

Yuna stares. She stares and she can't stop. She can't tear her eyes away from the sight of Heejin, her lips around your length, taking you deep into her mouth. You're looking down at her, playing with her hair. The look of bliss on your face is impossible to ignore.

Heejin's skilled, Yuna realises with a growing sense of horror. She knows her way around it, with her lips circling the tip, tongue swirling and coating you in saliva, and her lips then easing your length further inside her. It's so fluid and smooth, and she's only using her mouth. How good must it feel?

She can imagine it. The hot, moist mouth on you, the soft, wet insides, the pressure of a mouth wrapping around you. The hum of approval as she continues to tease and play. The slurping and slobbering sounds. How it would look like her taking you deeper and deeper, her forehead touching the base, and how her throat would tighten around you.

Yuna feels her body ache. She's watching her position as valedictorian be sucked away down Heejin's throat. The girl whose a joint first, the same as her, is all but sealing her own victory with your climax. Her eyes are wide, staring at the scene in front of her, her fingers dug into the palm of her hand. This is absurd, impossible, unbelievable.

Heejin can't win like this. There's no way Heejin's better than her. Is she?

There's only one way she can stop it.

Heejin's sucking your brains out through your dick, making your spine tingle and your breath come in jagged and short gasps. It's nothing but pleasure for you. There are no thoughts, no conscious mind, just the sensation in your core.

Her mouth slides up and down, dragging up your shaft, her tongue sliding along it, licking and tasting the salty mixture of precum and spit. She draws her lips up your head, right to the tip, where she teases you with her tongue before plunging you back into the depths of her throat.

God, it feels amazing, every second of it. You can hear her gagging, choking, the sounds are so vivid and raw that you can't help but groan, tightening your grasp of her ponytail, just like she asked you to. She likes it. You can tell she likes it by the way she inhales every time you pull her close and shove yourself into her. Her nails dig into your ass, dragging you closer to her as you press up against the back of her throat, and she's showing no sign of relenting.

This can't last, though. This kind of sensation, the ecstasy and passion and tension, has a breaking point, and you know your orgasm is coming. Heejin does too, because her pace starts picking up, and her head bobs faster up and down your shaft, her throat choking on your head, her mouth so tight and warm around you.

You fight it, the urge, the need to finish. You want this to last forever, you want it to keep going, the feeling of her lips, her throat, the sloppy noises of her sucking you dry. But the orgasm is inevitable. Your hands instinctively drag her to you, and you can feel the tremble in your hips, the buildup in your balls and the tightness in your pelvis.

But it's all fucking ruined. A bang on the door.

"What the fuck is that?" Heejin asks, pulling you from her mouth with a sloppy 'pop'.

The bang on the door happens again, more frantic this time.

"The fuck do they think they're—" Heejin groans in frustration. She wipes the cum and spit from her lips and chin with the back of her arm. "You have to tell whoever that is to fuck off."

"I, uh, yeah." You pull up your boxers, leaving your trousers open, you prepare to peek your head around the door and let the asshole who's ruining the moment know to get lost. You pull it open to just a crack, enough to bark out a bunch of curses, but you're taken aback by what you see:

Yuna.

"Yuna?" You blink a few times, trying to make sure it's not some delusion. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

"I— uh," Yuna stutters, looking a bit uncomfortable. She takes a deep breath, composes herself, and looks you directly in the eye. "Can I come in? I need to talk to you."

"Um, now's not a really good time." You glance over your shoulder, and you see Heejin perched on the edge of your bed. Her legs are crossed and her skirt is so far up her leg it's revealing the entirety of one thigh and just a little of her ass. She has her school shirt pulled a bit too low, giving an even better glimpse of her cleavage.

"It won't take a minute," Yuna quickly says. She tries to give you an imploring, and a pleading, look. "Please? I have an offer for you."

"Okay, um." You glance over your shoulder again. Heejin raises her eyebrows, looking amused. You bite your lip.

Yuna is staring at you with as much focus and persistence as she can muster. "I promise my offer is better than hers."

How the fuck do these girls seem to know everything? "Yuna—"

"I know she's in there, don't play dumb."

There's no denying it now, she knows.

"What the fuck are you doing in his room?" Yuna calls out to Heejin.

"Thought that was obvious," Heejin replies from behind you.

"You're—"

"Doing exactly what you wanted to do!" Heejin calls out to interrupt her.

Yuna goes quiet for a second, and then she holds out her hands. "Let me in."

"Yuna, listen, we're kinda in the middle of something," you protest.

"You were. You aren't anymore. I came along and now you have an offer to listen to, right? So let me in." Yuna is insistent. "Now."

You sigh and take a step back to let her pass.

She wastes no time. She walks right past you and into your room, heads straight for Heejin, and glares down at her. "So, is this how you planned to win? Sucking him off? A blowjob? Really?"

Heejin smirks and doesn't seem ashamed. If anything, it almost seems like a challenge.

"Okay. Whatever," Yuna goes on. "We're here now. We're all three together. And—" She turns her head and looks right at you. "—you're choosing one of us. Right here, right now." Yuna drops to her knees, her dark eyes locked onto yours as she pleads through them. She unbuttons her shirt completely and lets it fall off her arms. Underneath is a lingerie bra that holds her full breasts, its fabric thin and mostly see-through. "I'm better than her," she pleads.

There's no shame, no embarrassment. She's offering up her body in the name of competition. Her confidence has outpaced her modesty, and she doesn't care. Her body is on display, and she's daring you to look.

"Not really convincing enough," Heejin says dryly, leaning back, with one eyebrow raised.

You're still reeling—utterly astonished by this whole situation—by how absurd it's become. Everything is escalating so quickly, and your mind can barely keep up. These two beauties are squaring off against each other, a contest of sex to see who gets the status they crave. They both want the valedictorian position. Both students with the best grades and perfect attendance managed to find time to lead school societies and run after-school clubs.

Now, they've come to you for the deciding vote. They are both offering up their bodies, their most valuable assets, to earn it. A bit silly. A strange plan.

There's this mixture of amusement and disgust on Heejin's face as she looks over Yuna. This sort of derisive curl of her lip, combined with a half-hearted roll of her eyes. "Wasn't sure you had it in you, to be honest." She lays back against the bed, adjusting her skirt, letting the hem rise even higher on her legs. "Don't get me wrong, I always had you pegged as a bit of a slut."

Yuna just about manages not to show her outrage. "Yeah? You're the whore spreading her legs."

Heejin gives a small laugh, and again she shrugs and doesn't seem fazed. It's like she's unbothered by the insult like it's little more than a light breeze against her skin. "Just playing the game. Just like you, right?"

"This is crazy," you announce. "If the principal found out you're both in my room—"

"—this stays between the three of us," Heejin says, standing up.

"Yeah," Yuna echoes. She's still on her knees, the straps of her lingerie hanging from her shoulders, the shirt thrown on the floor, her plump breasts bare and exposed. "We don't tell anyone what happens here."

"Fuck," you breathe out. "You're serious."

Both girls nod.

They both want it, and they're prepared to do anything to get it. This rivalry is such a natural part of who they are, and who they've always been. How neither was able to stop the other or to find a better way to resolve things, is all connected back to what they must think is inevitable about themselves. They aren't friends, the two of them. Heejin and Yuna, they also aren't simply just competitors—rivals—those words don't go far enough, to explain their relationship. It's one of such dedication and passion, such pride and achievement, that to have someone matching every accomplishment, every grade, every victory, must drive them mad.

You remember watching a nature program once, something about wildlife, some documentary explaining how two aspiring leaders of a pride ended up locked in a rivalry. Though you can't quite remember all the details, something about a rift forming and how things had spiralled out of control between them. If only there was a way for them to live in harmony, some animal expert would have said at the end of the show, sadly shaking his head.

You look at the two of them. Harmony is a million miles away.

Yuna takes you by the hand, pulling your fingers and inviting you to touch her. Her hands guide yours, moving them over the curve of her breasts, and her soft, warm, skin. Her chest rises and falls steadily under your palm, and you caress her, touch her, cup her. You move one hand up, running over the length of her neck, up her jaw, to her cheeks and her ears. You brush her hair out of the way with your thumb, and she shifts forward. Her dark eyes are staring up at you, and you feel a shock run through your body.

"I swear I'm so much better than her," Yuna promises, in the quietest voice you've ever heard. It's soft, but there's also an intensity to it, a persistence like a raindrop hitting stone. "Trust me."

Pursed lips near the tip of your cock. Yuna's warm breath kisses the tip. She moves her tongue up, licking across your head. She's different to Heejin, more tentative, slower, and focused entirely on the feeling. Her touch is more gentle, less ferocious and domineering. When she takes you into her mouth, you can feel the sensation of her carefully tracing your length with the tip of her tongue, coiling you up inside, making you tingle, sparks coursing through your spine.

Yuna is watching you closely, her gaze not straying from your face for one second, as if she's so eager to see your reactions to her touch. Her gaze is focused, and intense, and she appears satisfied with how you're enjoying yourself. It feels incredible. Something about the eye contact, her attentive and focused style, and the way her lips glide up and down with pure reverence, is driving you crazy.

Heejin is behind you, trying to draw your attention. One of her arms wraps around your torso, her hand stroking across your front, exploring and exploring, her fingernails dragging over you in teasing lines. The heat of her breath hits your ear, hot enough to make you shiver, and you suddenly feel her bite your lobe. She knows where to attack, and she starts raining kisses along the side of your neck. Small nips and nibbles. Up to your jaw, tracing lines of heat along your skin. On your ear, her soft, red lips, suckling, her teeth leave little marks. When she sees your eyes are still on Yuna, a throaty, husky, disapproving purr in your ear. "Oh no you don't. Pay attention to me."

Her slender fingers tug at your jaw, turning you towards her. Kisses rain down on your mouth, not satisfied until her lips are plastered across yours. She strokes the tip of her tongue across your own, inviting you to taste, to explore. Her kiss makes you quiver inside, almost melting you, making every part of you tremble and weaken.

But it's when Yuna caresses you further, her hands finding your ass and grabbing tight, dragging your cock deep into her throat. The sound that erupts from you only spurs her on further.

You hear Heejin murmur quietly into your ear while running her hand through your hair, "Enjoying this?"

You swallow, taking a moment to compose yourself. You open your mouth to speak, only for your tongue to trip over an answer.

"I'm sure she's great and all," Heejin continues, "but you want the best, right?" She plants another kiss on your mouth, giving you a tempting taste, and keeping you close. "You must miss how much better I am."

Yuna's efforts begin to escalate, hearing the conversation continue. Determination has been written over her face. Now, however, her eyes dart up to glare at her competitor. It's cute, seeing how hard she's trying.

Heejin slips one of her hands under Yuna's cheek, her nails scratching lightly, scraping down her chin. She hooks them underneath and guides the girl's head, forcing Yuna's movement to stop. You can feel the subtle vibrations of Yuna letting out an annoyed groan.

"I bet you're not even close, are you? You can't cum from this, right?" Heejin's voice is soft and saccharine, dripping with mock sincerity.

"You're trying to piss her off," you point out.

"Good," Heejin drawls. "Does it piss her off, knowing that it's me who can finish the job?"

A frustrated Yuna ducks her head free from Heejin and takes you back into her mouth, starting anew, trying to prove something to someone. She's different now, you notice. Feistier, and more insistent. No more gentle, careful movements. She's moved on from worship, now charging through to ravish. She takes you hard, quickly, and thoroughly. There is an unrelenting pace to her. No patience, no playing, just the relentless need to do. She pulls and pushes, pressing and sucking, burying her nose at the base.

You wince at the heat, the slickness, how her tongue now massages you as her lips firmly embrace you. She's gripping hard at your ass, driving you onto her tongue. The warmth of her breath against your flesh is impossible to ignore. Hot breaths, soft and humid, leave goosebumps on your skin.

This new attitude has gotten the better of you. You can't help but give in. Threads of pleasure entwine up the length of your spine, each sharp twist of Yuna's mouth drawing the sweetest song out of you. Heejin has stolen your voice as a chorus is crawling up your throat, and you can barely hope to keep it down.

There's no stopping you, the finish is inevitable. You move to pull out, to stop yourself, yet Yuna swallows around you in response, taking you deeper into her waiting throat. Not a hint of an intention to let go. No, Yuna refuses to stop until you've emptied every single drop inside.

Heejin still won't relent, either. She kisses a constellation on your shoulder, up the side of your neck, her sweet caresses are lingering, teasing your flesh, dancing fingertips that burn in the best way. It doesn't do anything to soothe the tension inside.

You fill her mouth, flooding her with thick ropes. You can't imagine what it might feel like, all that hot fluid sliding down into her stomach. Once, then twice, then a third time, you spill inside, shuddering and groaning in release.

Yuna drags a heavy breath. It's not even over, as she's already trying to take you deeper. "Mm," Yuna moans, her voice trembling. She nuzzles forward, eagerly coaxing what's left, accepting the remaining throbs against her tongue, swallowing when she has to. You shiver at how she seems so hungry for every drop, her strength only seems to grow the more she drinks. She finally lets you out of her mouth with a pop and flashes a grin.

"So nice of her to finish what I started," Heejin quips and Yuna glares at her. "After I did all the work."

"Maybe you should've finished the job instead of talking shit," Yuna throws back.

Heejin tilts her head a little. "I have much better ideas. Want to see?" She smirks.

Heejin sits on the edge of your desk, reaching out to take your hand. She presses your palm to her chest, just above her breast, her uniform top exposing a tantalizing window of skin.

You look at her. Her eyes. The shape of her face, the sharp lines of her jaw, the elegant arch of her brows, the curve of her nose. The pretty rosy tint in her cheeks. Then her mouth. Her bitten lips, the long neck, the exposed part of her chest. Heejin knows how to pull you in.

Your mind is blank, just fixated on her, how gorgeous she looks. She's pulling open her shirt, unbuttoning it, unhooking her bra. She's undressing, putting herself on display, only for you. It's entrancing.

Her body is perfect, lean and toned, the sculpted muscle and firm curves making her look like a piece of art. Beautiful. Then her legs, perfect thighs, the muscles not too built, but trim and taut, soft to the touch.

She bunches her skirt at her waist, exposing her panties, those small scraps of silken fabric, almost see-through, the threads clinging to the contours of her hips and the mound between her legs. Heejin draws her hand there, exploring the smooth cloth, the delicate lingerie highlighting the body underneath.

She slips her thumb below the edge of the fabric, her fingers following, before she peels them down her legs, shuffling them past her thighs and her knees and kicking them off her feet. Her bare skin is tantalizing, her body like a vision of unknown riches. "Do you like what you see?" she asks, her voice pure silk.

"What the fuck?" It's Yuna's exclamation, and the shock inside it, which makes you tear your gaze away. She is sitting on the floor, in her dishevelled uniform, pieces of clothing half-unbuttoned and hanging off her. "Is there a limit? How far are you going to go?"

"I told you, I have ideas," Heejin emphasises the plurality. She's completely unabashed, and without hesitation, she pulls you by the scruff of your shirt, towards her. A handful of you, drawing you between her legs, and then laying her lips on your skin. Traces of kisses on your chest, the brush of her tongue, her lips, her teeth. Words spoken against your body with hot breath, "Don't mind her. Enjoy me, instead."

It's like being drawn into the ocean. Heejin is pulling you in. Her serenity becomes calming and comforting, and there's no way to escape the feeling. She locks her legs around your hips, her hands grasping and caressing you. Nails digging into your skin and trailing along it. Each pull and tug on you is possessive. You run your hands over her skin. Soft thigh, plump breast, toned waist. Each part is addictive, and you can't decide which to take. You caress her face, running your hand over her cheek, letting her dark eyes shine with affection as she smiles, lifting her head to steal a kiss.

Yuna, the frustrated voyeur, can only watch as you grind yourself against Heejin, rubbing yourself along the sodden line between her legs. With each pass, her fluids cover the tip, smearing them and soaking the end. Each roll gets harder to fight, your instincts telling you to rush the heat into something more.

"There we go," Heejin murmurs. "No need to rush. Take your time. Enjoy me," she insists, encouraging you, "and I can show you just how much I can please you."

Tender. Gentle. This isn't some quick fuck, this is Heejin spoiling you. Worship, desire, lust. Each glance into her eyes sends a bolt of thrill into your gut, and your length continues to swell. Your mind becomes more and more intoxicated with each fresh coat, your cock aching, slowly and frustratingly sinking into her. You hold her thighs, lift them, and drag her closer. She squeaks with your grip, her body shuddering with one steady breath. "Mm, yes," she groans.

"Take me," she begs, and it's a plea that you simply cannot resist. A shuddering sigh of her pleasure at last releases, her head tilting back in an agonising cry. You slide as deep as you can go. No. Deeper. Your pace is agonising. Too slow. Far, far too slow. You grind into her, taking every chance to relish how her body clenches around you.

You know why she's doing this. Why she wants you to focus on her and forget about the other girl in the room. Why she wants to convince you, with every stroke of your cock inside, that she's the one who deserves it most. Yuna might have made you climax, but Heejin? Heejin has you mesmerised. Every twitch of her inner walls against you feels exquisite. Addictive. You want nothing more than to plunge into her again and again, desperate to take it all, all the wet, wonderful friction. Your grip on her hips tightens, holding her close as your bodies collide.

Yuna lets out a sound of frustration and disappointment. Her lips hang parted, unable to believe what she's seeing, gazing on as you are slowly overtaken. The two of you panting. Squeaking gasps from Heejin. Your own groans and grunts. Yuna mutters something, glaring daggers into the pair of you, though her words don't fully register in your mind.

"Mmm..." Heejin breathes, and with another squeeze, she guides your hands up to her chest. You massage her breasts, tracing shapes around her nipples. Your fingers trail and play and press, cupping and squeezing and massaging. Heejin melts into you, gasping for air, her body tingling. She moans a long, languid sigh of bliss, then bites down on her bottom lip.

The motions are so languid, every instant stretching out forever. Heejin's petite body feels so tender beneath you, so pliable. Like it was designed to be adored. Your every thrust is answered by hers, your bodies coming together as one.

When Heejin's fingernails dig into your shoulder blades, urging you closer, you grab her face. You tilt it upward, toward you. Her dark brown eyes meet yours.

Then her body shivers, quakes, stiffens, and spasms. The tight, squeezing depths within her constrict, compressing you. She holds onto you even harder than before. Her teeth bite down on her lip. A yelp turns into a whimper, which turns into a silent cry until all the sensations inside seem to boil over. She writhes in orgasm, her body racked by waves of euphoria, unable to control her reaction. She clings tightly, and the waves of ecstasy ripple outwards, travelling throughout her entire frame. Even her voice is distorted. Her breath catches and she quivers, gasping loudly. She struggles, her grip on you tightening, her body twisting and contorting as she shakes violently.

And you would be excused for thinking that would be it. That her delicate little body could take no more.

But you would be wrong.

She's snaking her fingers into your hair, drawing you to her as she falls flat against the desk. You're over her now. You're fucking her, down against the wood of the desk, nails digging into her thighs. She writhes and whines beneath you, her pants unashamed and delightfully arousing, her red face begging for more.

She's beautiful. All long limbs, dark eyes, soft skin, the supple flesh yielding under your rough treatment.

"Give me everything you've got," she taunts, and she's about to say more, it's on the tip of her tongue, but when you hook her leg and pull it over your shoulder, it cuts off her next retort, and suddenly the only sounds in the room are those of pleasure.

Faster, harder. Heejin has shown off enough, flaunting the kind of sexual prowess you never expected from the quiet girl who always sat at the front of the class.

Then again, it's always the quiet ones...

Yuna's still here. Watching. Enthralled, but also furious. Her hands clutch her skirt, balling the fabric in her fists. She wants to march over to the two of you and kick Heejin aside. She wants to scream her frustrations and push the interloper out of the way. And she wants you to fuck her the same way you did Heejin, so you can compare and find her superior.

Her fists clench to leave bloody crescents in her palm, teeth grit hard and grind. It's not jealousy, Yuna would deny it. She's never been jealous of anything Heejin does or has, because Yuna's always had what she needs and then some. Except tonight.

"Fuck you both!" She declares, indignant, but the pair of you pay her no heed.

And that only infuriates Yuna more.

"I'll report the two of you. This is fucked up!"

Even as you pound her, Heejin has just enough presence to dismiss her with a laugh inter-laden into her moans. "Report yourself for sucking him off, too."

There's nothing else she can say, no barbed insults or derisive statements she can fling at either of you. So she grabs her shirt off the floor and leaves in a huff. The sound of the slamming door rings through the room, like the period to a sentence.

It just allows you and Heejin to go even harder.

Soon the world closes in around you. Only the thumping desk remains, only the frantic rhythm of your bodies pounding against each other, only her tiny moans, muffled into the crease of her elbow, only her clenching pussy as she convulses, trembling. Her tight, warm walls flutter as they enclose your cock, milking every inch, rippling in rhythmic spasms.

You need a moment. To take a breath, gather your thoughts. You're nearly spent, so you change your tact.

You pull her from the desk and turn her to its edge. "I like the way you think," she coos, then sprawls herself against it. Her chest pressed against the wood. Her cute little ass presented in all its glory, begging for attention. It fits into your palms like perfection. Each soft cheek moulds itself to you, filling up your grip perfectly. She squirms a bit, enticingly, pushing her hips backwards against you as if she's afraid you might lose interest.

You enter her once more.

A squeak leaves her lips. It's so adorable. Cute. But also hot as fuck.

Tight body, tight cunt. A tiny little thing, yet somehow able to withstand your assault. Her slender frame jolts with the impact of each thrust.

You slap against her flesh, sending ripples through her skin. Her cute butt. The arch of her back. You grab her there, at the waist—that slutty little waist—and hold onto her tightly while you sink inside. Over and over. Relentless.

She twists, her nails dragging across the desk's surface, scrambling for purchase. Her eyes roll back and her legs buckle, a hoarse wail breaking from her throat. She looks like she's possessed, her features drawn into an ecstatic rictus. She cries out as the sensations overwhelm her. You can feel it happening. Since her unravelling.

"Yes, fuck," Heejin sputters. "Give me what I want."

And you don't know exactly what she means by that. Is it your cock or is it the title, but who are you to complain?

Then it comes, rushing at you like a tidal wave. You fall down on top of her, her delicate body straining underneath you. "Cum," she whimpers.

So you pin her there, under you, and empty yourself inside her. Your whole body sings, shaking uncontrollably as you unload.

"How was it?" Heejin giggles. "To fuck the future valedictorian?" Asked with the confidence that it was a foregone conclusion.

Decision day comes. It's been two days since you finished inside Heejin as a form of agreement, and two days since you last spoke to Yuna. It's all hostile stares and annoyed mutterings.

You feel bad. The fact that this whole thing devolved into some sordid exchange of sexual favours really gnaws at you. It doesn't sit well. You knew Yuna liked you, she never kept it a secret. In fact, it's cute that she was trying so hard to impress you. It all felt a little earnest, compared to Heejin's ruthless manner.

You've woken this morning with a conclusion that is quite frankly the easy way out. Yuna hasn't tried to argue it, she just keeps her scowl and glares from afar, like you're the antichrist. Meanwhile, Heejin gives a satisfied smile whenever you look her way.

At least this madness will end. You'll see your father today, give him the decision, and forget all of this, or try your hardest to.

First, you need to get out of bed, though, throw off these duvet covers and stand. Stretching gives some relief to the back, and it perks you up. A shower, breakfast, and some coffee—the standard routine. After that, it's clean clothes and a walk to the office.

That's how it should be, anyway.

You're still in only your underwear when there's a knock on your door.

"Give me a minute! Hang on," you call.

The doorknob rattles but doesn't open. Then there's the hammering of a palm against the wood. Impatient. Persistent. Another rattle of the doorknob.

You concede. Wearing nothing more than your underwear, you poke your head around the door and peek out of the opening.

There, arms folded, impatient foot tapping the floor, is Yuna. "I need to talk to you," she says, brow furrowed and serious.

"What's—"

Yuna tries to push the door but your body is blocking it.

"Yuna, I need a minute to—"

"—we need to talk." Her tone is urgent and agitated. She's not angry, exactly.

You relent. This sounds important. Maybe you've misjudged things. "Okay, okay, come in."

"Finally," she sighs, stepping past you and heading straight for the chair by the desk.

As you shut the door, she turns her gaze onto you. The intensity of her eyes, the depth, like swirling galaxies within a cloudless night sky.

"Yuna... I didn't think you wanted to see me, not after everything that happened."

"Yeah, I've thought a lot about that actually," she tells you. Her eyes don't leave you, roaming across your body. "We both wanted the same thing, but Heejin got there first. Today's the day, isn't it? Decision day. Your dad's going to want an answer." She's wearing her uniform again, freshly pressed, the white blouse starched and stiff, the skirt just skimming her knees.

"I was going to head over soon, actually."

"So it's not too late?"

"Too late for?"

"One final twist." Yuna reaches up to loosen the tie of her blouse. One by one, she starts working her way through the buttons, popping each one through the buttonholes. "How about we revisit the competition?"

"You can't be serious?" You ask, but you watch as she slips the shirt off her arms. Then she's reaching to undo the catch of her bra—soft blue lace cupping her full breasts. She peels the cups down and flicks the bra aside, revealing her perfect chest.

"I'm deadly serious." Yuna stands.

The arousal rises in you quickly, and you can feel yourself getting hard. There's no hiding it, and Yuna notices immediately, a smirk breaking across her pretty face. Yuna takes the opportunity, steps closer, and plants a palm against your abdomen. She trails her fingers down to trace the outline of your cock against your boxers, the thin material not hiding anything. A small laugh.

"There we go, now you're paying attention." She wraps her fingers around you through the material. It's electrifying, having her touch you like this. Her hands are small and delicate, but her grip is firm. She moves her palm up and down, stroking you gently and enticing you.

Your breath catches in your throat, the tension growing as she plays with your dick. "Yuna..." you manage, your heart pounding, your palms clammy.

"Do you like that?" she teases, her thumb brushing across the tip of your head through the cloth.

All you can do is nod, your mind hazy with lust, your legs weak. She grins, a predatory twinkle in her eye. She moves forward, pushing you backwards onto the bed, your legs buckling under the surprise assault. You land flat on your back, and Yuna looks down at you.

"Can I be honest with you?" she asks as she pushes her fingers into the waistband of her skirt. She slips it down, revealing her matching blue panties.

"Yeah?" you reply, unable to keep your gaze off her body.

"I've always kinda had a thing for you," she admits, "and it's kind of annoying that it takes some stupid shit like this for me to say something. But I've also kinda hated that Heejin got a hold of you, like, in a weird way, she won because she was braver than me."

"Braver? What does that have to do with—"

"—she wasn't scared to let you fuck her," Yuna interrupts. She steps forward until she's standing above you. "Guess what?" Her question is rhetorical. She hooks her fingers into her underwear and slips them down her smooth thighs. "It's my turn."

She's beautiful. Flawless skin, toned muscles, and perfect curves. Every detail of her is meticulously crafted, like a sculpture by an old master. It's hard not to stare. Your eyes are fixed on hers as she crawls onto the bed. The mattress dips, and you shuffle up the sheets, unsure where to put yourself as she straddles you.

"Look all you want." Yuna lowers herself down. She places her palms against your chest, pinning you, and lowers down further. You feel a warm heat press itself against your groin. The wetness soaking into the fabric. She begins to slowly grind herself against you, rubbing herself against your erection. "Have I ever told you about my dance classes?" she asks with a smirk, her hips swaying back and forth. She grinds herself against you in a rhythmic, slow, pattern, and the sensation is so intense and pleasurable that you groan. "I'm really good with my hips. Really good."

Yuna keeps going, her body swaying and grinding, and your underwear grows wetter. It's torturously good, the friction from her pussy, the wet heat against your length. It's impressive to watch the way her body rolls, the precision, the control.

Eventually, she slows, smiling slyly. Her fingers trace their way down your abdomen, down your stomach, and hook into the waistband of your boxers. With a slight tug, she pulls them down, freeing your hardness from its confines. She leans forward again, positioning herself above you, ready to descend.

This feels a little unreal. You never expected it to happen, nor did you ever expect her to be this assertive. "Yuna..."

"Relax," she says, lowering herself. She holds you in place. "Honestly, even if you still choose Heejin later, I won't care. I just needed to do this."

Then she lets gravity drop her and there's a sudden pressure around your length, her warmth encasing you, her muscles wrapping around you. Her head tips back slightly and her expression softens as she exhales. The feeling is incredible, and your groans echo hers. The tightness around your cock, the warmth and moistness, and the sight of her perfect naked form on top of you.

Yuna wastes no time, she lifts herself, rolling her hips up, and then slides back down. Her breathing becomes louder, more ragged. You reach out to grab her, your hands instinctively moving to her sides to pull her down into you. She welcomes the grip, biting her lower lip as you pull her into you, her breath coming in quick bursts.

"Does that feel good?" she asks, her voice husky, her body rocking against you.

"It feels amazing," you reply, your hands roaming up to squeeze her breasts.

A soft laugh escapes her as she shifts her weight back and forth, riding you, controlling the rhythm and pace. She's practised and precise like every movement is part of a well-rehearsed routine. "Better than Heejin?" she asks.

"You're incredible," you gasp, grabbing her tighter. The words seem to spur her on further, and she picks up speed. Each movement sends a ripple of pleasure through your body. She's in complete control, dictating the pace, deciding how deep, how hard, and how fast. You've given yourself completely over to her, allowing her to use you as she wants, to ride you however she pleases.

"That's good," she hums, picking up her pace. "I'll do my best for you."

She shifts again, leaning back slightly, changing the angle. She bounces, her breasts swaying with every rise and fall. She has found the perfect spot. "Oh fuck yes!" you hiss, your hands grasping at her thighs and body arching upwards.

"Mmmm," she moans, picking up the tempo. She's riding you now, fast and hard, sweat forming on her brow. "Fuck!" Her curse is rare, strange coming from her mouth, but it's welcome, especially as it's followed by her panting harder.

The room is filled with the sounds of slapping skin and heavy breaths. The air is thick with the scent of sex. You're both sweating, grunting, panting.

As great of a spectacle, as breathtaking a sight, she is, it's a constant struggle. You get so close to bursting into her, only for her to feel it coming, take a moment of pause, slow to a grind and adjust her position again, denying you of an ending. She's teasing you, playing you, keeping you on edge.

You want nothing more than to throw her down, kneel behind her and rail her until you cum deep into her, to hold her tight while you fill her up. Yet, despite how easily you could, how simple it would be to move her and shove her to the bed and do whatever you wanted, you can't do it. Something about watching her is mesmerising, and you can't take your eyes away. You watch her move, how her muscles flex with each rock and roll, how her breasts jiggle and shake with each bounce, how her head tilts back, her eyelids flutter and how her teeth bite on her bottom lip. The sight is far too powerful, far too thrilling, to break away from.

It must be plastered all over your face, the need, because she says, "You can't cum inside, it's not safe, but," and she gives that wicked smile once again, "I have an idea." She drags herself off of you, and then she turns around and bends over, facing away from you, exposing herself, her pussy soaked and glistening. You get the picture.

Then she hits her own ass. An open-palmed slap right across it, making the supple flesh ripple, a red mark stinging bright on her otherwise pale complexion. "Like what you see?" Yuna coos.

"Absolutely," you reply.

She sways her hips side-to-side, a small enticement. "Good." She lowers her hips, settling her cheeks on either side of your cock. Her hand pulls you between them, and as she shakes her ass side to side, Yuna lets out a satisfied chuckle. Then she begins to move, back and forth, sliding you between her cheeks. She grips and squeezes you tightly, using her own ass as a toy.

There's something raw and dirty about it. The way she rubs you with her cheeks, squeezing and pressing you into the cleft between them. Her skin is smooth and silky, her ass perfectly round and perky. It's intoxicating—addictive. Every time she squeezes, you feel that build-up inside you grow hotter. A boiling sensation, searing through your veins. It feels so good, but it's still not enough. You want more.

Yuna knows this isn't enough, and there's only one thing you would wish for her to do next. She pushes her hand between her legs, taking hold of your shaft firmly. Then, slowly, deliberately, she spreads her buttocks with one hand while guiding you between them with the other. The anticipation builds until she finally presses your cockhead against her asshole.

It's tight. Very, very tight. There's some initial resistance as she tries to force herself down onto you, but she's patient. Slow. Inch by inch, she sinks downwards. Soon, the tip of your cock slips into her, causing her to groan in discomfort, biting down on her lip to keep quiet, but she refuses to stop.

You can only watch as she draws your cock into her ass, stretching and adjusting to fit. She gasps, her eyes wide, her expression contorted. She takes a moment to collect herself, before sinking even further, taking more of you into her ass. You marvel at how her tight hole stretches to accommodate you. You've never felt anything like this before; the tightness is unlike any other sensation.

As Yuna continues to sink down, she begins to shudder with pain and discomfort. She's struggling. You place your hand on her ass, rubbing and caressing it, encouraging her. Yuna lets out a long breath, her head hanging down, sweat dripping from her brow. You're barely halfway in but she's rocking her hips and groaning.

"I want you to cum inside," she whispers, her voice hoarse, almost desperate, looking over her shoulder. Her back is arched where her waist narrows, the definition in her muscles more pronounced from the effort.

"You sure?" you ask, gripping her hips tightly.

She nods frantically, her hair falling into her face. Her hands grip the bedsheets tightly. She pushes herself down, finding a rhythm, pushing and pulling. You help, using your grip to guide her, but you're careful not to hurt her. She starts to pick up speed, working herself up and down, taking more and more of you into her with each pass.

It's intense, watching her work, seeing her concentrate so hard. Eventually she relaxes, her body less tense. She's adjusted to the sensation now, getting used to having you buried in her, and she seems to enjoy it. You find yourself lost in the beauty of her body, her slim figure, her narrow waist, her taut ass and toned thighs, the way she moves with such purpose and grace. Even under stress, her poise shines through.

She begins to move faster, rocking her hips, pulling you deeper into her ass. Her movements become smoother and more fluid. Each time she sinks down onto you, she groans loudly. She's loving it, her eyes closed, her mouth open in strained pleasure. You hear her muttering things under her breath, like "Yes" and "fuck." Each time she says it, you can't help but smile. She's really enjoying herself. You love the sound of it.

Her walls cling to you tightly, her tight hole squeezing you firmly. Every time she rocks her hips, it sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, building, pulsing, and growing, until finally, your muscles clench. She grunts in exertion, her arms straining, her body trembling, and you grip her ass hard enough to mark her fair skin with fingerprints.

You hold her in place and you cum. Your dick spasms within her, filling her with hot liquid. You groan loudly as your hips buck wildly beneath her, spilling deep inside. The pleasure surges through every fibre of your being. When you're finally spent, you collapse back onto the bed. You're completely drained. Exhausted. You lie there, staring at the ceiling, your chest heaving, trying desperately to catch your breath.

Yuna is quick to join you, "That was so hot," she pants.

She doesn't say much else, catching her breath. While you're lost in the stars you're seeing, she rolls onto her side and brushes a stray hair from your face. It's affectionate and cute. Soft. Her dark eyes search yours and a playful smile appears on her lips. She reaches out to touch your cheek, tracing its curves before moving to stroke your chin.

"I meant it. I don't care if you still choose Heejin," she murmurs, the satisfaction evident in her voice. Her touch is light, tickling and tingling on your skin, like she's admiring a fine piece of art.

The question inevitably comes, with casual ease, the coffee mug halfway to your lips(where it pauses while you ponder). You take a sip, then place the cup down. A look into his eyes, and you give a simple answer.

"Good choice," he nods, offering no sincerity. Just a solemn acknowledgement. "Will be a nice ceremony. You should wear something smart." There's that nod again, dismissive. He puts his reading glasses on and peers back at his documents. More scribbles. As if the whole thing was nothing.

#Yuna smut #Heejin smut #kpop smut #male reader #kpop fanfic #m reader #Itzy smut #artms smut #Heejin x reader #smut #kpop fanfiction #yuna x reader #loona smut

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hoonieyun · 2 months ago

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score: love!

lee heeseung x reader "y/n"

summary: after 2 years off the court due to a torn acl, y/n is ready to step back into tennis and take back the years she’s lost to her injury. after vowing to never play mixed doubles tennis ever again, she’s disappointed to find that the only matchup left is mixed doubles and she doesn’t have a partner. luckily, due to a last minute dropout, the tournament director has a player in need of a mixed doubles partner, but it just so happens to be the guy y/n played against 2 years ago that caused her injury: lee heeseung.

genre: smau!! sports au-tennis, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, romance

characters: enhypen heeseung, jay, jake, sunghoon - artms jinsoul - yves/sooyoung - loossemble hyeju (and randome side characters)

warnings: profanity, injuries, aggressive behavior, suggestive, drugs and alcohol, overall 18+

status: completed (nov 3 to dec 26)

reply or send message to inbox to be added to taglist!

teaser (prologue) profiles: baddiesss (and jake) pink pony tennis club

game: one set: one i. girl you're late! ii. shouldn't he be in jail?? iii. only in it for the money babyyy iv. the bow is necessary v. you think he's ever used his brain..? vi. this hoe eat like a bear vii. wait... she's kinda viii. that was so alpha of you bro ix. 9 hours on facetime??? x. what is this??? revenge of the exes???

game: two set: two xi. lord this family is cursed xii. im going to eat my racket xiii. jake spitting some wisdom xiv. secret admirer xv. hyeju on top xvi. aww brotherly love xvii. wait... baddie rizz me tonight? xviii. DISQUALIFIED xix. should i be a detective? xx. SCORE: LOVE!

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magnagaruzenmon · 13 days ago

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A Day to remember

Introduction The world changed forever the day the Hulk returned from space. But it wasn’t Bruce Banner, the brilliant scientist, who came back. No, all that was left was the Hulk—a relentless, unstoppable force of nature. Hardened and empowered after years among the stars, he brought with him the strength and knowledge of not just one, but four planets: Sakaar, planet Kree, Spartax, and Planet Skrull. This unparalleled combination of might and resources allowed him to launch a swift and devastating campaign to claim Earth as his own. It wasn’t just a victory—it was a conquest.

And so, the Hulk crowned himself Champion-King of Earth.

One of his first acts was to deal with the Illuminati, the secret cabal of Earth’s most brilliant and powerful minds who once sent him into exile. With the exception of Black Panther, the Hulk exiled the Illuminati and their allies—including my parents—to a so-called “idyllic paradise” somewhere off-world. It seemed like justice in his eyes, though it left Earth in an unprecedented state of transition. One day, I had human neighbors. The next, I was surrounded by Sakaarans, Kree refugees, and even a mutant or two. Earth wasn’t just Earth anymore. It was a crossroads for the galaxy.

Surprisingly, despite the terrifying aura of power he radiated, the Hulk turned out to be a capable and, dare I say, effective ruler. Crime plummeted, and the economy soared as he forged strong intergalactic trade and alliances with the new empires of Asgard and Wakanda. Life on Earth became both unrecognizable and…stable.

But that stability is about to be shaken again. Hulk has just announced a new tradition: the Gladiatorial Tournament of Champions. This brutal competition will determine Earth’s Realm Champions, the individuals he deems worthy of ruling specific territories under his reign. Each champion represents a distinct region of Earth, acting as both its protector and enforcer of the Hulk’s rule.

Here’s how it breaks down: • Wolverine oversees Canada and Alaska. • Steve Rogers rules the United States, Puerto Rico, Cuba, Costa Rica, Haiti, and the rest of Central America. • Namor dominates South America and Antarctica. • M’Baku holds Africa. • Shang-Chi governs all of Asia. • Devil Dinosaur and Skaar share dominion over Australia. • Doctor Doom controls Europe…when he’s not busy running his own intergalactic empire (it’s complicated).

And now, the tournament will determine the newest champions—or perhaps, challengers to their thrones. The stakes are high, the rules unclear, and the competition fierce. In this world reshaped by gamma-fueled ambition and intergalactic alliances, it’s anyone’s guess who will rise—and who will fall.

Reassemble TJ was surprised by how few had shown up to apply for the Realm Champion Tournament. Out of the vast expanse of the Gamma Force Empire, only 64 participants stood ready to compete. For an event of such magnitude, the hall of ceremonies felt oddly intimate, though the grandeur of the setting made up for the lack of numbers.

Golden chandeliers bathed the room in a warm glow, their light reflecting off walls lined with intergalactic banners—each one a symbol of the Hulk’s reign. The crowd was a mix of the famous, the powerful, and the curious. TJ recognized a few familiar faces from both legend and pop culture: Venom, towering and menacing but oddly polite; Luna Snow, the Korean pop idol turned superhero; Dazzler, the timeless mutant songstress; and a collection of idols, including Wonyoung and Yujin from IVE and Hanni from NewJeans. The blend of celebrity and power was overwhelming, but TJ—despite his less affluent upbringing and humble attire—moved through the procession with unexpected ease.

When people approached him, he introduced himself calmly and confidently. “Tiberius,” he said, his voice steady, “but you can call me Tibby. I’m one of the contestants.”

There was something magnetic about him, a palpable charm that made even the most skeptical faces soften. He listened attentively, asked genuine questions, and exuded a warmth that drew others in. It wasn’t intentional, but a few of the women couldn’t help but look a little flustered as they spoke to him.

For an hour and a half, Tibby navigated the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and learning names. But as the Master of Ceremonies stepped onto the elevated dais at the front of the hall, the atmosphere shifted.

“Contestants, it is time for your introductions,” the voice boomed, silencing the room.

One by one, the 64 fighters were named, and their achievements and titles were announced with a flourish. Most were unremarkable to Tibby, but a few stood out: • Lucion, a cybernetic warrior from Latveria, is rumored to have ties to Doctor Doom. • Leviathan, a towering Atlantean gladiator with a cold, unreadable demeanor. • Momotaro, a swordsman from Japan, clad in armor said to be enchanted by Asgardian forges. • Praetorius, a mysterious figure veiled in shadow, whose reputation as a mercenary preceded him.

And finally, Tibby. Though his name lacked the weight of the others, murmurs rippled through the crowd, many remembering the impression he had already made. By now, “Tibby” was on more than a few lips, and the nickname had stuck.

The Master of Ceremonies gestured to a row of ornate cups lined on a silver tray, each adorned with a symbol representing the Hulk’s empire.

“Champions,” he announced, “step forward and claim your Champion’s Cup. Within this drink lies a blend of the synthetic Heart-Shaped Herb, Asgardian blood rites, and a precise mixture of potions and medicines. Together, they will elevate you to a level worthy of this tournament.”

Unbeknownst to the contestants, the concoction was more than just a power booster. It was preparation—for a brutal process known only to the Empire’s inner circle as The Culling.

Tibby stepped forward and took his cup, examining the shimmering liquid inside before raising it to his lips. Around him, others did the same. The hall erupted into cheers and applause as each contestant drank, sealing their fate.

With the ceremony concluded, the party began in earnest. Music filled the air, laughter echoed, and the contestants mingled freely with the crowd. But Tibby had never been one for celebration before the victory. Quietly, he slipped away from the festivities, weaving through the throng toward the exit.

He almost made it.

As he turned a corner, Tibby’s path was blocked by a massive green figure. He froze, his heart skipping a beat. The Hulk stood before him, radiating power. His gaze was unreadable, his towering frame casting a long shadow over the corridor.

Tibby swallowed hard, unsure of what to say.

“Well,” the Hulk rumbled, his voice like distant thunder. “Where do you think you’re going, Champion?”

Tibby stood face-to-face with the Champion King, his heart pounding like a war drum in his chest. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe he could match the Hulk’s strength, but he didn’t cower. Instead, he stood firm, holding his ground with a mixture of respect and resolve.

“I was heading home,” Tibby said evenly, his voice steady despite the fear flashing in his eyes. “Parties aren’t really my thing—especially before I’ve won anything.”

Hulk raised an eyebrow, surprised by the man’s candor. Most who stood before him either groveled or puffed themselves up with false bravado. This one, though? He spoke with sincerity. The Champion King regarded him with a faint smirk.

“You’ve got guts,” Hulk rumbled, his voice like distant thunder. “Few people would talk to me that way. But there’s one more rite you need to complete before you leave.”

Tibby hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. “Lead the way.”

Hulk turned and began walking, his heavy footsteps echoing through the grand hall. Tibby followed, his nerves fraying with each step as they entered a glowing laboratory with a massive circular chamber at its center. The room hummed with energy, the air thick with the scent of ozone and sterilizing agents.

Hulk gestured toward the chamber. “This is the Culling Machine. It’s a tool we use to help contestants prepare. It simulates ten thousand years of forced evolution, compressing what would take eons into minutes. It’ll speed up your development and put you on par with the other fighters.”

Tibby stared at the chamber, his stomach twisting. This wasn’t what he’d signed up for. He thought of stepping back, walking out of the lab, and leaving the tournament behind. But then images of his past flooded his mind: the ridicule, the doubts, the dismissive sneers from the so-called geniuses of the Illuminati, and the whispered taunts of those who told him he’d never make it on his own.

Clenching his fists, he stepped forward, his eyes blazing with a cold fury. He couldn’t let them be right.

Hulk watched with quiet admiration as Tibby approached the chamber. For the second time that night, this contestant had surprised him. As Tibby entered the machine, Hulk closed the door and prepared the controls.

“Brace yourself,” Hulk warned as he pressed a series of buttons. “This is gonna hurt.”

The machine roared to life, flooding the chamber with a brilliant, almost blinding light. Tibby’s body was enveloped in its glow, and at first, everything seemed to go as expected. But then something went wrong.

Tibby’s skeleton began to glow, a fiery orange radiating from within as if his very bones were on fire. His skin bubbled and reformed, his body tearing itself apart and reassembling over and over. Each cycle was accompanied by flashes of pain and primal screams that sent a chill even through the Hulk’s hardened spine.

“WHAT THE HELL?” Hulk muttered, his massive hand hovering over the emergency shutoff. But he hesitated—Tibby was surviving. Somehow.

The machine’s timer finally reached zero, and the chamber powered down. The door slid open with a hiss, and Tibby stumbled out, his legs barely holding him upright. Steam rose from his body, and his skin flickered with faint traces of scales. His eyes glowed briefly before fading back to normal.

Hulk steadied him with one massive hand. “You good, kid?”

Tibby coughed, then nodded weakly. “Define… good.”

The Champion King let out a rare, deep laugh. “Fair enough. Let’s get you checked out.”

Hulk carried Tibby to the medical bay, where his advisors and doctors hurriedly ran tests. It didn’t take long for them to uncover the truth: Tibby’s X-gene—his mutant ability—had been dormant until now. The Culling Machine had triggered its activation, but instead of settling into one stable form, his mutation was in a constant state of flux, his body forever evolving.

“The only thing that seems consistent,” one of the doctors explained, “is that under stress, his mutation pushes him into a dragon-like form. Beyond that… well, it’s unpredictable.”

Tibby sat on the edge of the medical bed, his mind racing. A dragon? That wasn’t what he’d expected when he signed up for this tournament. But as he flexed his hands, feeling the latent power coursing through his veins, he realized he didn’t feel fear. He felt ready.

Hulk crossed his arms, a thoughtful expression on his face. “You’re full of surprises, Tibby. This might just get interesting.”

The festivities were in full swing, the grand hall alive with music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. Beneath the glittering chandeliers, contestants, dignitaries, and spectators mingled, each with their own agendas. At the center of it all stood Momotaro, the clear favorite to win the Realm Champion Tournament.

Tall and broad-shouldered, with a warrior’s poise and a face that seemed sculpted by the gods, Momotaro exuded confidence. The legendary champion from Okinawa had already made a name for himself as a formidable warrior in countless regional tournaments. His reputation had preceded him, and now it seemed, so had his charm.

Wonyoung and Gaeul of IVE, radiant in their evening gowns, had positioned themselves at either side of Momotaro. They were playful, their voices carrying just enough laughter to turn heads, and their smiles were dazzling, each glance carefully measured.

“You must hear this all the time,” Wonyoung said, her tone light and teasing, “but you’re even more impressive in person than the stories say.”

Momotaro chuckled, his deep voice cutting through the lively room. “I’ve found that the stories are usually exaggerated. I’m just a man who’s good at what he does.”

“And modest too,” Gaeul interjected, leaning in slightly with a sly smile. “That’s rare in someone so… accomplished.”

Momotaro gave her a small nod, his gaze steady but unreadable. “Modesty isn’t rare when you’ve faced enough challenges. The moment you start believing your own hype is the moment someone surprises you.”

Wonyoung tilted her head, her eyes sparkling. “A wise answer. But surely you’ve noticed how everyone is watching you tonight. They’re not just here for the tournament—they’re here for you.”

Momotaro smirked. “And yet here I am, lucky enough to have the attention of two of the most talented stars on the planet. How do you explain that?”

Gaeul laughed, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “We know a good story when we see one, and you, Momotaro, are definitely a story worth following.”

Their banter drew subtle glances from others at the party. Some watched with curiosity, others with envy. Among the crowd, Lucion and Leviathan exchanged knowing looks.

“Momotaro sure knows how to play the part,” Leviathan muttered, sipping his drink.

“Play?” Lucion smirked. “He’s not playing. He’s just that good.”

Meanwhile, Hulk, standing near the entrance, glanced at the scene as he returned from checking on Tibby. His sharp eyes missed nothing: the glances, the positioning, the subtle games of influence.

“Momotaro’s already won half the battle,” Hulk muttered to himself. “Let’s see if he can win the other half in the arena.”

As the night wore on, Wonyoung and Gaeul remained close to Momotaro, their charm never wavering. He entertained them with grace, but there was a quiet focus in his eyes, a steady awareness of the competition that lay ahead.

In another corner of the room, a subtle buzz spread among the attendees as whispers of Tibby’s ordeal began to circulate. The dragon-like transformation, the unexpected resilience—it was enough to draw the attention of a few, including Momotaro, whose gaze briefly flickered toward the doorway Hulk had reentered from.

“Interesting,” he murmured to himself before turning his full attention back to his admirers.

As the night continued Momotaro found himself needing to relieve himself. After he excused himself he didn't expect the two vixens to corner him in the restroom as he washed his hands.

“Oh ladies how may I help you?” he said politely the girls groaned and Wonyoung said,

“Cut the good guy schtick we know all about you. We know how bad you are,” she said as she closed the gap. Yujin was also not far behind as her arms wrapped around, the man. He sensed their less-than-pure intentions as Wonyoung and Gaeul brought him in for a shared kiss. Momotaro’s mask slips as the Helpful Hero gives way to the vicious villain underneath. Encouraged by Wonyoung’s prodding he lifts her dress up to see her bare ass.

“Spank it,” Gaeul whispers in Momotaro’s ear and he does so. The resulting jiggle serves to set Momotaro to take everything he wants. He undoes his belt and rams his cock into the idol’s tight cunt.

“Yes God“ Wonyoung moans as his cock ravages her. Momotaro continues to rail against Wonyoung while he and Gauel engage in a passionate liplock. Gaeul’s tongue dances and wraps around his as he fucks into Wonyoung deeper. She moans tirelessly as Momotaro’s cock pistons in and out of her tight pussy. Driven into a lusty haze Gaeul begins spanking the younger girl, before degrading her,

“Yes take that cock you filthy slut. Fuck you're so hot,” Gaeul growled possessive. She smiled as she watched Momotaro’s cock plunge in and out of the young woman. Gaeul for her part got on the other side of Wonyoung and began groping the young woman before settling her fingers in Wonyoung's clit. Momotaro watches as he feels Wonyoung get tighter and tighter before yanking her hair.

“Gonna cum slut?” he asks,

Wonyoung nods wordlessly as her mind is made mush by the pleasure. Momotaro keeps thrusting until Wonyoung screams cumming all over his cock before Momotaro carelessly cums inside of Wonyoung. Her pussy convulsed feeling his seed before sending her into another orgasm. Feeling cheated he spanks Wonyoung and says “No cumming more than me,” Wonyoung regains her wits and glares at you before saying “Don't push your luck,”

The following day Momotaro arrived to two guests in his quarters after his successful culling. The interior of Momotaro’s quarters was as opulent as the man himself—polished stone floors, walls adorned with accolades, and an array of expensive wines and delicacies displayed on a low table. Wonyoung lounged gracefully on a plush chaise, her long legs crossed, while Gaeul stood by the window, inspecting her reflection in the glass. Both were impeccably dressed, their attire chosen to emphasize their poise and elegance.

The door hissed open, and Momotaro strode in, his figure commanding. Unlike Tiberius, his time in the culling machine left no visible marks. He radiated confidence, his movements effortless, his smirk that of a man certain of his greatness.

“You survived,” Wonyoung said, her voice dripping with mockery masked as playfulness. She rose smoothly to meet him, her eyes glinting with admiration. “Not that there was ever any doubt, of course.”

“‘Survived’ is putting it mildly,” Momotaro replied with a smirk, loosening his collar as he crossed the room. “I thrived.”

Gaeul turned from the window, raising an eyebrow. “Thrived? Modesty as always.” She approached him, her tone teasing but laced with genuine admiration. “I suppose it’s safe to assume the others weren’t as fortunate. Did you hear about Tiberius? They say the machine nearly tore him apart. Poor thing. Talk about biting off more than you can chew.”

Wonyoung scoffed, settling back into her seat. “Honestly, I’m surprised he even made it out alive. I don’t know why they let riff-raff like him enter. The man’s practically a charity case.”

Momotaro chuckled, pouring himself a glass of wine and leaning against the table. “Let them have their dreams. It makes crushing them so much sweeter when the time comes.”

“You’re so cruel,” Gaeul said, but her smile betrayed her approval. She perched herself on the arm of Wonyoung’s chaise, idly playing with a strand of her hair. “Still, I have to admit, there’s a certain satisfaction in watching the undeserving fail. It’s not like they ever had a chance against you.”

Wonyoung tilted her head, her expression sharpening. “Especially not that Tibby. Did you see how awkward he was at the ceremony? Trying so hard to impress, but it was painfully obvious he doesn’t belong.”

Momotaro grinned. “He has his moments. A certain… charm, I suppose. But charm doesn’t win battles.” He sipped his wine and added, “Still, it’s almost a shame. I could’ve taught him a thing or two.”

Wonyoung let out a soft laugh, her hand brushing against Momotaro’s arm. “Oh, please. You’re being far too generous. The only thing you could teach him is how to stay out of your way.”

“Agreed,” Gaeul said, leaning closer to him. Her voice lowered, almost conspiratorial. “But don’t let him or the others distract you. You’re the clear favorite, Momotaro. Everyone knows it.”

Momotaro set his glass down, his smirk growing. “Distraction isn’t something I’m worried about. And as for the competition…” He gestured dismissively. “They’ll fall in line. One way or another.”

The three of them shared a laugh, the kind of easy, self-assured laughter that came from knowing the odds were in their favor. Wonyoung rested her chin in her hand, her gaze lingering on Momotaro.

“You know,” she said, her tone turning flirtatious, “you’re making it very hard for the rest of us to stay focused. All this strength, charisma… it’s almost unfair.”

Momotaro raised an eyebrow, a playful gleam in his eye. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Wonyoung.”

“Jealous?” Wonyoung leaned closer, her lips curling into a smirk. “Hardly. I’m just making an observation. Someone has to keep you humble.”

“Humble?” Gaeul chimed in, rolling her eyes. “Good luck with that.” She nudged Momotaro’s shoulder lightly. “But seriously, you’d better win. Otherwise, all this flattery will have been for nothing.”

Momotaro laughed, a deep, confident sound. “Don’t worry. I don’t plan on losing. To anyone.”

Wonyoung and Gaeul exchanged a glance, their smiles sharpening. They didn’t need to say it out loud—they had chosen their champion, and they were determined to bask in his glow.

But outside the room, the faint hum of distant celebration carried on, a reminder that the tournament had only just begun—and the masks, so carefully maintained, would soon be tested.

Meanwhile having recovered Tibby had begun training in his quarters while waiting for the arena to open properly. Tibby’s training quarters were stark and utilitarian—a far cry from the lavish accommodations Momotaro enjoyed. The dim lighting revealed worn sparring equipment, a simple cot pushed against the wall, and a single rack of weights. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for Tibby. He wasn’t here for luxury; he was here to prepare.

Clad in a loose tank top and sweatpants, Tibby stood in front of a heavy punching bag. His knuckles thudded against the bag in a steady rhythm, sweat trickling down his forehead. Each strike was deliberate, his focus sharp despite the lingering soreness in his body from the culling.

The door creaked open softly, and a gentle voice broke the quiet.

“Tibby?”

He paused mid-swing, turning to see Chowon standing hesitantly in the doorway. She clutched a small cloth bundle in her hands, her posture timid but her smile warm. Dressed in a simple dress, she looked entirely out of place in the gritty training room, but her presence seemed to brighten it nonetheless.

“Chowon?” Tibby straightened, wiping his forehead with his forearm. “What are you doing here?”

“I… I heard you were starting your training, and I thought you might need this.” She stepped forward, holding out the bundle. “It’s nothing fancy. Just some snacks I made. For energy.”

Tibby took the bundle, his expression softening. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” she said quickly, her cheeks reddening. “You’ve been through a lot already, and… well, I thought it might help.”

He unwrapped the bundle, revealing neatly packed rice balls and slices of fruit. It was simple but thoughtful, and the care she’d put into it was obvious.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “This means a lot.”

Chowon smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re welcome. I just… I think you’re going to do great, you know? In the tournament.”

Tibby chuckled softly, sitting down on the edge of the cot. “Not sure about that. I’m still figuring out what this ‘dragon thing’ means, and most of the other contestants already look like they’ve been training for years.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Chowon said, her voice gaining a rare firmness. She stepped closer, her shyness momentarily giving way to quiet conviction. “You’re strong, Tibby. Not just physically. You… you have a good heart. That’s what really matters.”

Her words caught him off guard, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. He glanced down at the food she’d brought, then back at her.

“You’re too kind,” he said finally, his voice softer than before.

Chowon blushed again, fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “I just… I want to help, even if it’s only a little.”

Tibby smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. “You’re already helping more than you know.”

The two sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the contrast between the sterile training room and Chowon’s sweet presence making it feel almost peaceful. Eventually, Chowon stood, brushing off her dress.

“I should let you get back to training,” she said. “But if you ever need anything, just let me know, okay?”

Tibby nodded. “I will. Thanks again, Chowon.”

As she turned to leave, Tibby found himself feeling a rare sense of calm. The tournament loomed large, and the odds were stacked against him, but at that moment, he realized he wasn’t entirely alone.

He stood and returned to the punching bag, Chowon’s words echoing in his mind. A good heart. Maybe that was enough to start with.

Throughout the following weeks, Tibby and Taro trained relentlessly. The sunlight streamed through the grand training hall’s tall windows, illuminating the polished marble floors and elaborate tapestries that depicted scenes of victorious warriors. The air hummed with the low thrum of energy fields powering the advanced training dummies arranged in the room.

Momotaro stood in the center, dressed in a sleek, form-fitting combat suit that highlighted his muscular frame. A faint smirk played on his lips as he observed his reflection in the mirrored walls.

“Let’s make this quick,” he said, addressing the room’s automated trainer.

The dummies activated with a sharp hum, moving with near-human precision. One lunged at him, but Momotaro sidestepped effortlessly, his blade flashing in the light as he struck. The dummy shattered, its pieces clattering to the floor.

Another dummy approached, it struck faster and more unpredictably. Momotaro parried, his movements sharp and confident, as if rehearsing a dance he had already mastered.

In the distant corner, Wonyoung and Gaeul watched, their eyes gleaming with admiration.

“Flawless, as always,” Gaeul remarked, clapping slowly.

Momotaro turned, flashing a charming grin. “Of course. You don’t think I’d let that dragon boy put a scratch on me, do you?”

Wonyoung giggled. “He doesn’t stand a chance. You’ve already won, Momotaro. This is just… practice.”

His smile widened, but there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes. Confidence, yes, but also calculation. He knew the crowd expected perfection, and he intended to deliver it.

With a dramatic flourish, he raised his weapon and stepped toward the next wave of dummies, their metallic frames reflecting the light like distant stars. Each strike was a performance, every movement a declaration of his superiority.

Tibby’s training space was the opposite of Momotaro’s—a dimly lit, open-air courtyard surrounded by crumbling stone walls. The floor was uneven, scattered with patches of dirt and grass. A single lantern swayed in the breeze, its light casting long shadows across the ground.

Tibby stood in the center, his body tense and his hands wrapped in rough cloth. Sweat glistened on his skin, evidence of hours of relentless practice. He faced a simple wooden post, its surface scarred from repeated strikes.

“Again,” he muttered to himself, his voice steady despite the strain.

He lunged forward, his fists striking the post with sharp, deliberate movements. The impact sent a jolt through his arms, but he didn’t stop. His breaths came in steady bursts, each strike pushing him further.

Behind him, Chowon stood quietly, her hands clasped in front of her. She watched with a mix of worry and admiration, her gaze fixed on the determination etched into Tibby’s face.

“You’ve been at this for hours,” she said gently. “Maybe you should take a break?”

Tibby paused, his fists resting against the post. He turned to her, his expression softening. “I can’t. Not yet. If I don’t push myself, I won’t stand a chance.”

Chowon stepped closer, her voice quiet but firm. “You’ve already come so far. Don’t forget to trust yourself, too.”

Her words lingered in the air as Tibby nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. He took a deep breath, aTJusting his stance. “One more round,” he said.

Chowon sat on a nearby stone, watching as he resumed his strikes. This time, there was something different in his movements—not just strength, but precision and resolve. Each punch seemed to carry the weight of his determination to prove himself, not just to the world but to himself.

As the lantern’s flame flickered in the breeze, Tibby struck the post one last time, his fist splintering the wood. He stepped back, breathing heavily, and glanced at Chowon.

“You were right,” he admitted. “I needed that.”

Chowon smiled, her eyes warm. “You’ll be ready, Tibby. I know it.”

The day before the opening bouts of the tournaments the ceremonial chamber was a sight to behold—a cavernous hall carved from the heart of the mountain, with walls glowing faintly from veins of luminous minerals. Weapons of past champions lined the walls, each displayed with reverence. A long table stretched across the room, laden with ornate weapons wrapped in cloth, waiting to find their rightful wielders.

Hulk’s forgemaster, a towering, broad-shouldered dwarf named Gorund Ironbrand, stood at the head of the table. His beard was braided with bits of metal, and his hammer, massive and scarred from years of crafting, rested at his side.

“Tonight,” Gorund began, his voice resonating through the hall, “each of you will receive the weapon that best matches your spirit. These weapons are forged not just of metal but of meaning. Treat them well, and they will serve you faithfully. Fail them, and they will abandon you.”

One by one, the champions stepped forward as their names were called.

Momotaro’s Weapon

“Momotaro,” Gorund called, his deep voice cutting through the room.

Momotaro strode forward, confidence radiating from his every step. Gorund unwrapped the cloth, revealing an exquisite katana. The blade shimmered with a deadly brilliance, its edge almost too sharp to look at directly.

“This,” Gorund said, “is a katana forged from vibranium, adamantium, and carbonadium. Stronger than any foe you will face. A blade fit for one who carries the weight of many expectations.”

Momotaro accepted the weapon with a flourish, running his hand over the smooth hilt. He nodded in thanks, though inwardly, he savored the murmurs of admiration from the crowd.

“Lucion.”

Lucion, a pale figure with piercing silver eyes, stepped forward silently. Gorund unveiled a bow made of dark, twisting wood that seemed alive, its surface pulsating faintly with shadows.

“A bow crafted from the bark and branches of the World Tree,” Gorund said. “It draws on darkness itself, bending it to your will.”

Lucion took the bow without a word, his thin lips curling into a faint smirk.

“Leviathan.”

The tall, wiry contestant approached, his sharp eyes scanning the table. Gorund unwrapped a pair of daggers, their blades glowing softly with a calming blue light. Etched with ancient runes, they seemed almost alive.

“Daggers of uru and orichalcum,” Gorund said. “Inscribed with mystic etchings to balance their power. They are as precise as the predator who wields them.”

Leviathan twirled the daggers experimentally, grinning.

“Praetorius.”

Praetorius, clad in ceremonial armor, marched forward with the bearing of a king. Gorund unveiled a mace that seemed to hum with energy, lightning arcing faintly along its head.

“A weapon of vibranium and savage world steel, imbued with lightning. A fitting instrument for one who commands authority.”

Praetorius grasped the mace, nodding with satisfaction.

“Tiberius,” Gorund called.

Tibby stepped forward, calm and steady despite the low murmurs from the other champions. Gorund unveiled a single weapon—a staff-like rod forged from an alloy of vibranium, uru, and a rare off-world metal that glowed faintly in shifting shades of violet and teal.

“This,” Gorund said, his voice taking on a weight of reverence, “is a weapon unlike any other. It shifts forms at your command—kusarigama, tonfa, sais—whatever your instinct requires. Its power lies in adaptability, much like its wielder.”

The only embellishment was an inscription etched delicately into the metal: ‘Dragons care not for the opinions of sheep.’

Tibby accepted the weapon with a small bow, feeling its cool surface hum faintly with energy. He twisted his wrist experimentally, and the rod lengthened into a kusarigama. Another flick transformed it into a pair of tonfas, and yet another shift produced a pair of sais.

“Thank you,” Tibby said, his voice even but sincere.

Gorund nodded approvingly. “It is simple in appearance, yes. But simplicity often hides great strength. Remember that.”

Tibby bowed respectfully as he accepted the weapons. “Thank you,” he said simply, running his fingers over the smooth surface.

As Tibby stepped back, the other champions eyed his weapon with poorly veiled disdain. Lucion leaned toward Leviathan, smirking.

“They gave him a transforming stick,” Lucion whispered. “Guess they thought he couldn’t handle a real weapon.”

Leviathan chuckled. “He’ll need all the tricks he can get. Too bad it won’t matter when he’s out in the first round.”

Praetorius shook his head, a faint sneer on his lips. “Adaptability won’t save you when you’re outclassed.”

Tibby ignored the remarks, focusing instead on the shifting weapon in his hand. The transitions were smooth, each form feeling perfectly balanced and natural in his grip. He’d faced mockery before, and he knew that true power didn’t lie in appearances.

Momotaro observed silently, his elaborate katana hanging at his side. Though he refrained from joining the others in mocking Tibby’s weapon, his thoughts were far from kind.

A shapeshifting toy, he mused. How fitting for a second-rate contestant. It might impress peasants, but it won’t stand against real steel.

Outwardly, however, he maintained his composed, heroic demeanor, offering Tibby a polite nod as their gazes briefly met.

As the ceremony concluded, the champions mingled, comparing their weapons. Lucion and Leviathan examined their own with smug satisfaction, while Praetorius marveled at the power radiating from his mace.

“They gave him farmer’s tools,” Leviathan sneered, glancing at Tibby’s weapons. “Did they think he was here to harvest crops instead of fight?”

Lucion chuckled darkly. “Maybe they thought he’d need them to till the earth once he’s out of the tournament.”

Praetorius smirked but said nothing, his eyes flickering briefly toward Tibby.

Tibby, standing off to the side, heard the remarks but didn’t react. He was used to being underestimated, and he had no intention of rising to the bait. Instead, he turned the weapon ( currently a sai in his hand) , feeling the balance and weight, appreciating the craftsmanship.

Momotaro, standing nearby, didn’t join in the mockery. Outwardly, he maintained a neutral expression, but internally, he dismissed Tibby’s weapons as inferior. Farm tools, he thought. And here I was expecting competition.

As the champions laughed and boasted, Tibby took a step back, letting the noise fade into the background. He studied his weapon again, running a finger over the inscription.

‘Dragons care not for the opinions of sheep.’

A faint smile tugged at his lips. He knew what they thought of him, but that didn’t matter. His actions would speak louder than any words or flashy weapon.

In the end, it wasn’t the weapon that made the warrior. It was the heart behind it.

After the ceremony Momotaro went back to his shared penthouse with Gaeul and Wonyoung their contempt and disdain flowed freely behind sealed closed doors.

The flickering light from a nearby lantern cast long shadows across the private room, its cozy ambiance a stark contrast to the tension that lingered in the air. Wonyoung and Gaeul sat on plush cushions, their expressions a mix of anticipation and frustration. Momotaro stood by the window, looking out over the arena grounds, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his katana. He set it down gently before gesturing for Gaeul to approach. She smiled as they both undressed

“So, tell me again,” Gaeul spoke up, her voice dripping with a sharp edge. “You really think any of them stand a chance?” she said as she straddled Momotaro

Momotaro smirked as Gaeul spread her legs for the man. Her wet pussy drooling for him. “No. Most of them are just pawns in a game they don’t even understand. They’ll fall one by one.” he said as he thrust into Gaeul who moaned as Momotaro’s dick rammed itself inside her.

Wonyoung leaned forward, her gaze intense as she fixed Momotaro with a look of quiet calculation. “But there’s one who could be a problem.” she purred as she watched her champion fuck the elder girl.

Lifting his gaze from the window, Momotaro finally turned to face them. The playful arrogance in his eyes hadn’t faded, but there was a glint of something more serious in his expression. “Lucion. That bastard,” he spat as if the name left a bitter taste in his mouth. “He’s the only one I’ve seen so far who might be worth my time. The rest are… distractions,” he said after ramming himself deep into Gaeul. She shivered as he ran his cold hand across her waist before fucking her again. Wonyoung watched hungrily but she knew it was Gaeul’s turn to be bred so she accepted it.

Gaeul scoffed. “Lucion’s a shadow, a ghost. He’s been hiding his true strength. But even then, I’m not worried. He’s as much of an outcast as the others. He’s not a part of our world.” she said trying to stifle her moans as Momotaro continued fucking her. Her walls clenched his rod tightly as she neared her own release.

“Exactly,” Wonyoung added, folding her arms. “He’s been lurking in the shadows, and we don’t even know what he’s capable of. But he’s not a threat until he shows his cards. And when he does, we’ll be ready to crush him just like the rest.” Momotaro exited Gaeul for a moment. She pouted but kept her complaints hidden.

Momotaro’s smirk deepened as he took a step toward the table, where a fresh glass of wine awaited him. He picked it up slowly, swirling it as he spoke. “I don’t fear him, but I respect that he’s dangerous. Unlike the others. The rest? They’re nothing but fodder.”

Gaeul’s eyes flickered with an unreadable expression as she looked toward Wonyoung. “And Tiberius?”

Momotaro’s gaze turned cold at the mention of the name, the edge of his smile faltering slightly. “He’s a joke. A farm boy with no true understanding of what it means to be a champion. He doesn’t belong here.”

Wonyoung raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? He has that… something. Not the same as us. But there’s something there.”

Gaeul gave a short laugh. “Don’t let the unassuming act fool you. He’s just another body in the tournament. A warm-up for the real fight.”

Momotaro took a long drink of wine, the conversation falling into a brief, contemplative silence. His eyes narrowed as if contemplating something deeper. “Let’s make sure we don’t underestimate anyone… not even him. But for now, my focus is on Lucion. He’s the one to watch.”

The conversation turned to more idle chatter, but the underlying tension remained. Lucion—the only one they viewed as a genuine threat—hovered over their thoughts, even as they dismissed the rest of the competitors as beneath them.

At the same time Tibby’s was rediscovering himself with his new weapon. His mind unshackled by the burdens of others and their notions as he trained the weapon became an extension of himself its glow and radiance increasing as the hesitation and fear gave way to resolve and hope. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the training grounds. The air was thick with the sound of metal striking metal, as Tibby swung his newly acquired staff. It wasn’t just the rhythmic clang of his weapon that filled the air, but the undeniable energy that radiated from him. With every shift of his weapon, his movements were sharp, fluid, and somehow… full of life. The weapon morphed from tonfa to sais, then to a chain form with a fluidity that matched the rush of his energy.

Chowon stood at the side, her wide eyes following every shift in Tibby’s stance. She had known him as humble, reserved, even shy—but now, seeing him train, she noticed the spark in his eyes, the lively energy that emanated from him with every move. It was a side of him she hadn’t fully realized existed.

“Wow…” Chowon murmured, unable to tear her eyes away. “I had no idea you were so… intense.”

Tibby paused mid-swing, his expression bright and full of excitement. His usual soft demeanor gave way to an energetic grin as he caught sight of her watching him.

“Intense?” He chuckled, setting down the sais for a moment and walking over with a lively bounce in his step. “I’m just getting started! You should see me when I’m really fired up. But hey, gotta save my energy for tomorrow, right?”

Chowon blinked in surprise, her lips parting slightly as she processed his words. He wasn’t just humble—he was electric. The man who had appeared reserved and almost solemn was now speaking with a warmth, a fire, and a passion that she hadn’t seen before. He was clearly driven—more than she had anticipated—and somehow still managed to exude an extroverted energy that drew people in. She couldn’t help but smile in return.

Tibby’s grin only grew as he twirled his weapon in his hands, the kusarigama shifting back into its tonfa form. He raised an eyebrow at her, his voice teasing. “So, what? You thought I’d just stand there quietly in the corner? Nah. I’m here to make a splash! This tournament’s gonna feel like a breeze!”

He swung the tonfa with a sudden burst of speed, his movements so sharp they were almost impossible to track with the eye. His energy filled the space around him, creating a vibrant, unstoppable aura.

Chowon stood there, her mouth slightly agape, taken aback by the sheer enthusiasm he displayed. She’d seen others train with grit, with determination, but never quite with this much… joy. Tibby didn’t just fight to win—he fought because he wanted to, because he loved it.

“You’re amazing,” Chowon finally said, her voice filled with admiration. “It’s like… you’re completely alive in every move you make.”

Tibby paused for a moment, catching his breath, but still grinning widely. His eyes sparkled with the same energy as when he had first spoken. “What can I say? I love a good challenge! And tomorrow’s fight? I’m so ready for it, you don’t even know!”

His voice was brimming with excitement, and despite the looming uncertainty of the tournament ahead, his optimism seemed unstoppable. He wasn’t worried about the competition, nor the challenges they would throw at him. He wanted to be tested, to prove himself—because, at his core, he was a person who thrived on connection and the thrill of living.

“You really think you can win this, don’t you?” Chowon asked, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, still in awe of his infectious energy.

Tibby’s expression softened slightly, but his smile never wavered. “Of course I do! I’m not just doing this for me—I’m doing it for everyone who’s ever doubted me, everyone who thought I’d just stay in the shadows. They’ll see who I really am when I step into that arena.”

His enthusiasm was contagious. For a brief moment, it felt as though his vibrant energy filled the whole field. Tibby wasn’t some quiet, reserved contestant in the background; he was alive, a force of nature, and his presence radiated through everything he did.

“Alright, I’m ready to go again. You ready to see some real action?” Tibby grinned, fully revved up and eager to continue his training.

Chowon laughed, shaking her head in amazement. “I think you’re more ready than anyone.”

He winked playfully as he picked up his weapon once more, ready to take on the challenge ahead. With every swing, every movement, Tibby’s energy only seemed to grow, and it was clear: He wasn’t just in the tournament to compete—he was here to make his mark, to prove his existence to others, and nothing could hold him back.

The tournament arrived the next day and Tibby's excitement was palpable. The introvert everyone had seen at the opening ceremony was gone in his place something different. A difference so great the other competitors didn't even recognize him.

He carried himself with the swagger of a champion and the hope of a saint. When interviewed he looked less the part of a hero and ever increasingly the part of the heel everyone loved to hate, yet he spoke with genuine warmth and kindness to those around making rooting against him satisfying but also watching him Electrifying.

The tournament arrived the next day, and the air was thick with anticipation. The arena buzzed with energy, but none more than the competitors themselves. Among them, Tiberius was a beacon of electricity, a stark contrast to the quiet, reserved man everyone had seen just a day prior. The introvert, the humble and shy participant from the opening ceremony, was gone. In his place stood someone altogether different—someone unrecognizable.

Tibby walked through the bustling halls with the swagger of a champion and the hope of a saint. His posture was upright, exuding the confidence of someone who had already claimed victory, even though the battle had yet to begin. His eyes sparkled with a fire that mirrored the glow of his weapon, and every step he took seemed to draw the attention of those around him. His presence was magnetic, impossible to ignore.

When the interviewers approached, they were taken aback. This was no longer the shy, humble man who had stumbled through the ceremony. No, this was someone far more captivating. The crowd, which had seen him as little more than a dark horse before, now watched in awe as he spoke. His voice rang with an infectious enthusiasm, his words flowing with a genuine warmth that resonated with everyone around him.

Despite his energy, there was an edge to him. A slight cockiness that made him impossible to root against, but impossible to ignore. He had become the heel—the antagonist everyone loved to hate—yet, at the same time, he made it thrilling to watch. He was the kind of competitor you couldn’t help but cheer for, even if you knew he was likely going to crush everyone in his path. His charisma was undeniable, and the audience ate it up.

When asked how he thought the fight would go, Tibby leaned forward slightly, his eyes glinting with fiery excitement. His words were more than just a prediction—they were a promise. “You ask me, the immortal king of the battlefield, how this fight will go?” His voice boomed across the arena, and the crowd leaned in closer, hanging on every word. “I’ll tell you. You are watching the beginning of the tale of Tiberius, the one who slices the heavens! The story that ends with my dramatic finale against the Champion King himself. I will dazzle, I will amaze, and I will terrify beyond all belief. Today is just step one.”

The crowd erupted in cheers, roaring with approval as his words rang out in the air. They saw something in him—something special. His spirit wasn’t just competitive; it was alive, vibrant, and ready to take on the world. His confidence was infectious, and they couldn’t help but get swept up in it.

Hulk, standing off to the side with Chowon, exchanged a glance. They both knew it in that moment. “He’s gonna go far,” they thought simultaneously, their minds both drawn to the same conclusion. They had seen potential before, but this was different. Tibby wasn’t just a contestant; he was a force of nature.

Meanwhile, in the preparation room, Momotaro fumed. His eyes narrowed as he watched Tibby on the screen, delivering his showmanship to the crowd. He had expected fodder—someone easy to brush aside, a mere stepping stone on his way to the championship. But what he saw before him unnerved him. Tibby had transformed. The self-doubt, the hesitation, the humble man who had seemed like an afterthought had vanished. In his place was a competitor who didn’t need tricks or deception. He didn’t need to scheme his way to victory. Tibby’s desire to face the challenge head-on, with pure strength and determination, sickened Momotaro.

“Heroes…” Momotaro muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with disdain. He turned away from the screen, clenching his fists in frustration. The very idea of someone actually enjoying this game Hulk had set up, of someone fighting for something beyond their own gain, disgusted him. In his eyes, the tournament was nothing more than a game of manipulation, a means to an end. Anyone who thought otherwise was naive.

Momotaro stood there in his preparation room, breathing deeply, trying to center himself. His mind, usually so calm and calculated, was now thrown off-kilter by Tibby’s unexpected transformation. The world he had carefully built, where he was the shining hero, the top contender, was suddenly thrown into chaos. And that made him angry.

He couldn’t shake the image of Tibby—how the crowd had responded to him, how Hulk and Chowon had looked at him with recognition, understanding, and even pride. It was clear. Tibby wasn’t just a threat—he was someone who could disrupt everything Momotaro had worked for. The tournament was no longer just about winning. It was about proving who was the strongest, and Tibby had just made it personal.

“Your legend ends today,” Momotaro muttered, his voice cold and filled with resolve. “I’ll show him just who he’s dealing with. No one gets to stand in my way.” He looked at his reflection in the mirror, a cold smirk curling on his lips. The hero of the tournament had a challenger now, and that challenger was someone who couldn’t be ignored. Tiberius had made himself a spectacle, and Momotaro hated it.

The opening match was simple. The top seeds versus the lowest seeds and that meant Tibby was facing off against Taro. The combatants entered the arena, and Tibby feed off the cheers as he hyped off the crowd before walking over to Momotaro. He attempted a handshake but Momotaro’s only words were

“Focus up clown,” Tibby unfettered nodded and got in a combat ready stance as he took out his weapon. The crowd marveled as it turned into a beautiful nagitana that glowed with the same infectious energy Tibby had. Momotaro grew frustrated as he unsheathed his sword.

He closed the distance on Tibby and clashed with the tip of his nagitana. What he didn't expect was for Tibby to shift the weapon to its chain form and bind both of his hands before dislodging his katana away from him. Momotaro realized then along with all 64 other competitors that Tiberius was going to be a problem. As Tibby removed the priority weapon from his foe he tripped him before shifting his weapon into its Kusagirama form and kicking up dust to obscure Momotaro’s vision. To keep Momotaro off his game he continued to move the sword out of reach as he would look for openings that guaranteed victory, but Momotaro kept his guard dodging and carefully keeping ready for Tibby to slip up in his pressure.

The crowd watched rivetted. Wonyoung and Gaeul’s excitement and terror watching their chosen champion filled them with so much emotion their masks slipped and they cheered with reckless abandon. Chowon noticed this and said.

“Huh I guess Tibby brings out the true self in everyone,” she thought. As she watched Tibby play his little game if keep away. She noticed the shift. She watched as instead of moving Momotaro’s weapon far out of reach that he was placing on the battlefield as he moved the katana closer and closer to Momotaro.

For those who could see magic Tibby was putting chi glyphs that made it so when they were activated they'd explode. However because this was a new trick of Tibby’s he lacked control over this power so for what he was planning he was going for a lethal shot. Hulk’s advisor of mages Baron Mordo noticed this and notified the Champion King. While Hulk admired Tibby’s ingenuity he needed to keep his competitors safe so he gestured for Tibby to stop the fight which Tibby and a few others caught but not everyone so Momotaro unaware and pushed to his limit by this bumpkin hit him with his greatest attack. “Scales of the demon!” he yelled as he slashed his katana at Tibby who was lacerated a total of 356 by the radiant blades. He collapsed and the ref called the victory for Momotaro as he also didn't see Hulk’s signal. After the match was just as hectic as the crew readied for the next fight.

The lounge buzzed with subdued energy as contestants gathered to debrief and decompress after the opening matches. Wonyoung and Gaeul sat in a quiet corner, their expressions composer but held feeling of awe and terror deep within. The screens replayed moments from the day’s most dramatic match—Momotaro versus Tiberius.

“That guy,” Gaeul began, her voice low and contemplative, “he’s not like anyone else here. Did you see how he fought?”

Wonyoung nodded, her arms crossed as she leaned back in her chair. Her usual composure had slipped during the fight, her cheers echoing among the crowd alongside the roar of thousands. Now, her tone was measured, almost clinical. “He didn’t just fight. He put on a show. Every move felt deliberate—not just to win, but to entertain. And the crowd ate it up.”

Gaeul gave a small laugh, though her nerves still showed. “I almost forgot we’re here to root for Momotaro. Tibby’s energy…it’s impossible to ignore.”

Before Wonyoung could reply, the door to the lounge opened with a sharp creak, and Momotaro strode in. His movements were stiff, his expression cold, yet there was a shadow of uncertainty in his eyes. The room fell quiet as he walked past the other contestants, all of whom watched him with a mix of respect and trepidation.

“Momotaro,” Wonyoung called out, her voice breaking the silence.

He stopped, glancing at her and Gaeul before walking over. “What is it?” he asked curtly, his voice tinged with irritation. Gaeul reaches put to soothe the man with her touch.

Wonyoung didn’t flinch under his glare. “How do you think it went? That fight wasn’t exactly clean.”

Momotaro’s jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “I won,” he said flatly.

“Sure,” Gaeul interjected, her voice unusually sharp. “But look at him.” She gestured toward the screen, which now showed Tibby being carried off by medics, his bloodied body a testament to Momotaro’s finishing blow.

“He’ll live. he shouldn't though that blow should have been fatal” Momotaro snapped, though the defensiveness in his tone betrayed him.

“That’s not the point,” Wonyoung said, her eyes narrowing. “You saw it just like we did. Tibby didn’t fight like someone who was out of his league. He pushed you. Hard. And that was round one. He’s going through the loser’s bracket now, but if he makes it back to you…” She trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.

Momotaro scoffed, though the unease in his posture was unmistakable. “He’s reckless. Flashy. That kind of fighting only works until someone with actual skill shuts it down.”

Gaeul leaned forward, her gaze piercing. “And yet, you had to use Scales of the Demon to stop him. Against the lowest seed.”

The words hit their mark, and Momotaro’s scowl deepened. He glanced at the screen again, his mind replaying the fight. Tibby’s unorthodox tactics, his shifting weapon forms, the calculated placement of the katana—everything about the match had been a puzzle, one he’d only barely managed to solve. And the crowd’s reaction…

“Everyone’s talking about him,” Wonyoung continued. “They’re calling him a genius. A wildcard. Even Hulk looked impressed.”

Momotaro’s eyes flicked to her, his expression dark. “You’re saying you’re rooting for him now?”

“No,” Wonyoung said, her voice steady, and her expression matching his as if scoff that he would challenge her loyalty again. “We’re still in your corner. But you need to take him seriously. If he gets another shot at you, he won’t make the same mistakes.”

“And neither will I,” Momotaro said firmly, though his words felt more like a promise to himself than to them.

Gaeul sighed, leaning back in her chair. “You’d better not. Because the way things are going, Tibby’s not just going to be a problem for you—he’s going to be a problem for everyone.”

Momotaro said nothing, his gaze fixed on the screen as the replay shifted to Tibby’s dramatic introduction before the match. The crowd’s cheers echoed faintly through the lounge, and for the first time, Momotaro felt a flicker of doubt.

He turned abruptly, walking toward the training room without another word. If he was going to beat Tibby he would have to train 3 times as hard as he did.

Wonyoung watched him go, her expression unreadable. “Do you think he gets it?” she asked Gaeul.

Gaeul shrugged. “Who knows? But one thing’s for sure.”

“What’s that?”

Gaeul smiled faintly, though there was no humor in her eyes. “If Tibby keeps fighting like that, this tournament’s about to get a lot more interesting.”

The impact of the first match overshadowed every following match much to Levithan’s Chagrin.

“The winners should be the focus,” he thought to himself before getting ready for his interview. The camera panned to Leviathan, who sat with his arms crossed, his lengthy frame nearly dwarfing the chair beneath him. His crimson scale mail shimmered under the lights of the press room, and his deep, steady breathing hinted at the restrained power within. The reporters eagerly leaned forward, microphones thrust in his direction, eager for a soundbite from the victorious warrior.

“Leviathan,” one reporter began, her voice bright but professional. “First of all, congratulations on your win. Another dominant performance. But if we may, we’d like your thoughts on the match earlier today between Momotaro and Tiberius. It’s all anyone can talk about right now.”

Leviathan’s eyes, cold and calculating, shifted toward the reporter. He took a moment to exhale slowly, as if weighing his words.

“It was… revealing,” he rumbled, his voice deep and deliberate, like the shifting of tectonic plates. “Not in the way most people think.”

A murmur swept through the room. The reporter pressed on. “Could you elaborate? What did it reveal to you?”

Leviathan’s gaze turned steely. “Tibby’s fight wasn’t just about winning or losing. It was a declaration. A challenge. And he succeeded in one thing: showing everyone, including Momotaro, that the rules of this tournament don’t apply to him.”

Another reporter jumped in. “Do you mean his unconventional weapon techniques? Or the chi glyphs?”

Leviathan allowed a small, humorless smirk to play across his face. “The weapon shifts, the traps, the strategy—that’s all surface level. What matters is the intent. Tibby doesn’t fight to defeat his opponent. He fights to expose them. To unravel them. And Momotaro?” Leviathan paused, letting the tension build. “He unraveled.”

The room fell silent, save for the frantic scribbling of notes.

“But Momotaro won,” another reporter countered, trying to challenge the narrative. “Doesn’t that count for something?”

Leviathan leaned forward, his crimson eyes locking onto the reporter like a predator sizing up prey. “Does it? Look at the aftermath. Momotaro isn’t celebrating. He’s not basking in victory. He’s shaken. Questioning himself. And that’s what makes Tibby dangerous. He lost the fight, but he’s still in the tournament. And now everyone knows what he’s capable of.”

The murmurs grew louder. Someone else asked, “What about the role of the officials? Hulk tried to stop the fight, but it seems like his signal came too late. Do you think that played a part in what happened?”

Leviathan’s expression darkened slightly, and his massive tail shifted behind him, the only sign of his annoyance. “Mistakes happen. Hulk’s job is to keep order, but Tibby? Tibby thrives in chaos. Even if the fight had stopped earlier, the damage was done. Momotaro’s psyche, the crowd’s perception, the other competitors’ calculations—Tibby’s chaos reached them all.”

The original reporter spoke up again, cautiously. “And what about you, Leviathan? If you face Tibby in the future, what’s your strategy?”

Leviathan let out a low, rumbling chuckle that reverberated through the room. “Tibby’s clever, but I’m no Momotaro. I don’t get rattled, and I don’t play into someone else’s game. If he tries to unravel me, he’ll find himself staring into the abyss instead.”

The reporters nodded, some murmuring their approval at the confident answer. But Leviathan wasn’t done.

“One more thing,” he said, his tone dropping to something almost ominous. “Tibby said he was here to beat Hulk. That’s a bold claim. But what he doesn’t realize is this: if he wants to climb to the top, he has to go through me first.”

With that, Leviathan stood, his towering form casting a long shadow across the room. The press erupted in questions, but he gave them no further response. Instead, he turned and walked away, his tail swishing with the slow, deliberate movements of someone who knew his power—and didn’t feel the need to prove it.

Later as the legend of Tiberius who slices the heavens spread Lucion sat on the edge of his bed, rolling the hilt of his sword between his hands. His usually calm demeanor was strained, the sharp lines of his face deepened with thought. Yerim lounged nearby, perched between his legs. Her lucious lips slowly rake across his manhood. sThe moonlight framed her figure, her presence an anchor in the storm of his thoughts.

“So?” Yerim’s voice was teasing but gentle, as she slowly worked along his shaft wit her skilled fingers like the wind brushing through a quiet forest. “What’s running through that big, brilliant mind of yours?”she said as she began bobbing on his cock again

He sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. “I can’t stop replaying their fight. Tibby was…” He paused, searching for the right word.

“Unexpected?” she offered as she came for air.

Lucion nodded. “And dangerous. More dangerous than anyone gave him credit for. His adaptability, the way he manipulated the battlefield—it’s not just skill. It’s instinct. And instinct like that can’t be taught.”

Yerim tilted her head, studying him as she stroked his rod some more. “You’re worried.”

He chuckled softly, though the sound lacked its usual warmth. “I wouldn’t say worried. Cautious, maybe. Tibby isn’t like the others I’ve faced. He doesn’t just fight; he thinks. Every move he made was calculated to throw Momotaro off balance.”

“And it worked,” Yerim said, her voice soft. “Until it didn’t.”

Lucion frowned, his grip tightening on the sword hilt. Yerim tried to calm him by sucking deeper than usual but Lucion was inconsolable, “Momotaro’s strength is brute force. He overpowered Tibby in the end, but it was close. Too close. If Hulk hadn’t tried to intervene, who knows how far Tibby’s plan would have gone? That kusarigama trick with the chi glyphs—he could’ve ended the match right there if he’d had more control over his magic.”

Yerim’s tongue slid off the of Lucion’s dick as she began to lick his frenulum, her pace slow and deliberate. She knelt in front of him, placing a hand on his knee. “You’re not Momotaro, Lucion. You don’t rely on brute force. You see the battlefield better than anyone. That’s why you’re still here.”

He looked at her, his expression softening slightly. “You always know what to say.”

“It’s a gift,” she said with a playful smile. Then her expression grew serious. “But you’re right to be cautious. Tibby’s next fight is with you, and he’s not going to come in the same way. He learns too fast for that.”

Lucion placed the sword down beside him, resting his hands on his knees. “The key will be keeping him from dictating the flow of the fight. He thrives on momentum, on keeping his opponent reacting instead of acting.”

“Then take the initiative,” Yerim suggested. “Force him to fight on your terms. You’re a tactician, Lucion. Use that. Make him chase you, and when he slips…”

“…I’ll finish it,” Lucion said, his voice filled with quiet determination. As he spoke he came all over Yerim’s face. She giggled happy to serve her man

Yerim smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “That’s the Lucion I know. Just don’t underestimate him. If you do…”

“I won’t,” he interrupted, his tone firm. “Tibby’s dangerous, but I know how to handle danger.”

Yerim stood, her confidence in him evident in the way she carried herself. “Good. Because I have no intention of watching you lose to some upstart with a flashy weapon and a knack for showmanship.”

Lucion smirked, standing to face her. “You don’t think I’d let him get the better of me, do you?”

“I think,” Yerim said, leaning in close, her voice a whisper against his ear, “that you’re going to show everyone why you belong at the top.”

Lucion nodded, her words igniting a spark of confidence within him. “He won’t know what hit him.”

“Now that’s the spirit,” Yerim said with a grin. “Just don’t let him turn this into a spectacle. Keep your head in the fight, and it’s yours.”

As she stepped back toward the window, Lucion watched her, his mind clearing as her words settled. He wasn’t Momotaro, and this wasn’t about brute strength. It was about strategy, precision, and control. And those were the things he excelled at.

Tibby may have made himself a threat, but Lucion was ready to remind him—and everyone else—why he was a contender.

Unsure about his interference in the tournament Hulk went to the people’s Champion infirmary room Tibby sat in the medical bay, his arms covered in bandages and his chest wrapped tight to stem the lingering pain from Momotaro’s brutal final attack. Despite the searing ache of his wounds, his expression was far from defeated. His eyes, sharp and calculating, were fixed on the notepad in his lap, where hastily scribbled notes and diagrams painted a chaotic tapestry of strategy. Hulk sat silent for a moment and watched Tiberius sketch and scribble.

Hulk entered the room, his towering frame casting a long shadow over the flickering glow of the medical monitors. His usual confidence was tempered, replaced by a somber expression as he approached Tibby’s bedside.

“Tibby,” Hulk began, his deep voice quieter than usual.

Tibby glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “Hulk, what brings you to the infirmary? I thought champions didn’t make house calls.”

Hulk crossed his arms, leaning against the doorway. “I came to apologize.”

That made Tibby pause, setting the notepad aside as he regarded the Champion King with curiosity. “For what?”

“For not stopping the fight when I should have,” Hulk admitted. “I saw where it was headed. I signaled for the referee to call it, but I didn’t act fast enough. You took a beating because I hesitated. That’s on me.”

Tibby blinked, then let out a short laugh that turned into a wince. “Ow—don’t make me laugh right now. These ribs are still protesting.” He shook his head, his tone light but sincere. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, Hulk. This is a tournament, not a tea party. Things get rough. I knew what I was signing up for when I stepped into that ring.”

Hulk frowned. “Still, it wasn’t fair. If you’d had time to refine that technique of yours, things might’ve gone differently.”

Tibby leaned back, a faint grin tugging at his lips despite the pain. “Maybe. But fair doesn’t win fights, does it? And let’s be honest—Momotaro needed that win more than I did. Did you see the look in his eyes? I’m living rent-free in his head now.”

Hulk couldn’t help but chuckle at that, though his expression remained thoughtful. “You’re not angry?”

Tibby shook his head. “Nah. Losing’s just part of the game. Besides, I’m not out yet. The loser’s bracket is just another chance to prove myself. And I’ve already started working on my approach for the next fight.” He tapped his notepad, where diagrams of his kusarigama and notes on potential opponents filled the page. “Momotaro was step one. Whoever’s next? They’ll get the refined version of me.”

Hulk studied him, his keen eyes taking in every detail—the lack of resentment, the unwavering focus, the confidence that bordered on dangerous. “You really believe you’ll make it back to the finals?”

Tibby met his gaze, his grin turning sharp. “Oh, I’m not just making it back. I’m going to win this thing. And after that? I’m coming for you.”

Hulk froze for a moment, the weight of those words sinking in. He wasn’t easily intimidated—he’d faced countless challengers before—but something about the calm certainty in Tibby’s voice sent a chill down his spine. It wasn’t arrogance. It was conviction.

“Well,” Hulk said after a beat, his tone measured, “I’ll be waiting.”

Tibby leaned forward slightly, the movement making his bandages creak. “Don’t wait too long, Hulk. You might find yourself surprised.”

Hulk turned to leave, pausing at the doorway. “You’re a dangerous man, Tibby. I can see why the crowd loves you. Just don’t let that spark burn out too soon.”

Tibby smirked, picking up his notepad again. “Oh, don’t worry. The fire’s only just getting started.”

As Hulk walked away, his mind churned with conflicting thoughts. Tibby wasn’t just another competitor. He was something more—something unpredictable, unshakable, and undeniably formidable.

For the first time in a long time, Hulk found himself wondering if the Champion King might finally have met his match.

Praetorius reclined on a plush chaise in his private quarters, the dim lighting casting soft shadows over the royal decor. His long coat was draped carelessly over a chair, and a half-empty glass of wine rested on the table beside him. Across the room, Hanni perched on the edge of a velvet armchair, her delicate features glowing with curiosity as she twirled a lock of hair around her finger. Her nude form shined in the dimly lit room

“So,” she began, her voice teasing yet thoughtful, “what’s the verdict, oh great king? Did Momotaro barely scrape by, or was Tibby really just that unlucky?”

Praetorius smirked, swirling his wine as he considered her question. “A little of both, my dear consort,” he replied, his tone smooth as silk. “Momotaro’s victory wasn’t without merit—his precision and resolve are undeniable. But Tibby…” He paused, letting the name linger in the air. “Tibby is a different breed of fighter. What we witnessed wasn’t a loss—it was a declaration of intent.”

Hanni tilted her head, intrigued. “A declaration? You make it sound like he wanted to lose.”

“Not at all,” Praetorius corrected, setting his glass down. “Tibby doesn’t strike me as the type to settle for second place. No, what he did was far more dangerous. He forced everyone—Momotaro, the crowd, the judges—to recognize him. Even in defeat, he controlled the narrative. It’s a rare skill, and one that will serve him well in the matches to come.”

Hanni leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “You really think he’s that much of a threat? I mean, Momotaro did take him down.”

Praetorius chuckled, the sound low and rich. “My dear Hanni, you underestimate the power of perception. Momotaro may have won the battle, but Tibby won the crowd. Every move he made—the way he wielded his weapon, the audacity of his strategies—it was all designed to leave an impression. And it worked. By the time he’s healed and ready to fight again, his opponents won’t just be facing his skills. They’ll be facing the legend he’s already begun to craft.”

Hanni’s lips curled into a thoughtful smile. “You sound like you’re rooting for him.”

“Rooting? Not quite,” Praetorius said, his smirk widening. “But I do appreciate a well-played game. Tibby’s a wild card, and wild cards have a way of disrupting even the best-laid plans. It’s… fascinating to watch.”

Hanni rose from her seat, crossing the room to sit beside him on the chaise. “So what’s your plan, then? Sit back and enjoy the chaos? Or do you have something more… involved in mind?”

Praetorius turned to her, his gaze sharp and knowing. “Chaos, my dear, is a tool like any other. And a good strategist knows how to wield every tool at his disposal. Let Tibby and Momotaro dance their little dance. I’ll step in when the moment is right.”

Hanni arched an eyebrow, her expression equal parts amused and intrigued. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Only when I want to be,” he quipped, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. “Now, tell me—what did you think of the fight? I trust your keen eyes caught something I missed.”

Hanni grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, I saw plenty. But if you want my insights, you’ll have to earn them.”

Praetorius laughed, a deep, genuine sound that filled the room. “You drive a hard bargain, my dear. Very well. Enlighten me.”

Hanni leaned back against the chaise, stretching like a cat before fixing Praetorius with a knowing smile. “Alright, here’s the thing about that fight,” she began, her tone light but sharp with observation. “Everyone’s focused on the big moves—the flashy techniques, the weapons, the crowd reactions. But that’s not what stood out to me.”

“Oh?” Praetorius folded his hands in his lap, his expression interested but unreadable. “Enlighten me, my insightful muse.”

Hanni rolled her eyes at the nickname but continued. “It’s Tibby’s rhythm. The way he fought wasn’t about power or even precision—it was about setting a pace and forcing Momotaro to follow it. Every shift in his weapon’s form wasn’t just an attack, it was like he was conducting a symphony. And for a while, Momotaro was dancing to his tune.”

Praetorius tilted his head, considering her words. “Interesting. So you’re saying Tibby wasn’t just reacting—he was leading?”

“Exactly.” Hanni’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “Even when it looked like Momotaro had the upper hand, Tibby was setting him up. Moving the katana closer and closer? That wasn’t just strategy, that was psychological warfare. He wanted Momotaro to think he was slipping. It’s just… well, Tibby got a little too clever for his own good. Those chi glyphs were brilliant, but he couldn’t control them. And that’s what cost him the fight.”

Praetorius chuckled softly. “Ah, hubris. The Achilles’ heel of every would-be genius. But you’re right—it was a fascinating strategy. One misstep, and it could’ve been Momotaro lying in the dirt instead of Tibby.”

Hanni nodded, her expression growing more serious. “And that’s the thing—Tibby doesn’t need to win to get under someone’s skin. He’s already in Momotaro’s head, rent-free. Did you see how rattled he was, even after the fight? That humble, stoic hero act is cracking , and everyone knows it.”

Praetorius let out a low hum of approval. “You’re sharper than you look, my dear.”

“Of course I am,” Hanni shot back, sticking out her tongue. “I watch more than just the showy moves. Like how Momotaro wasn’t the only one who cracked. Did you notice Wonyoung and Gaeul in the crowd?”

Praetorius raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“They were so caught up in the fight, they dropped their usual composure. They weren’t just watching—they were cheering, yelling, feeling. And Chowon noticed, too. She might play it cool, but I saw her smirk. Tibby’s chaos doesn’t just disrupt fighters—it pulls everyone into his orbit. Even the spectators.”

Praetorius leaned forward, his fingers steepled as he processed her insights. “So what you’re saying,” he said slowly, “is that Tibby isn’t just a fighter. He’s a force of nature. A disruptor.”

Hanni grinned, pleased that he was catching on. “No worse. He is a spectacle. And spectacles are dangerous, because you can’t predict what they’ll do next. That’s why Momotaro’s win doesn’t feel like a win. It feels like Tibby just laid the groundwork for something bigger. Another showstopper as it were.”

Praetorius’s smirk returned, his mind already spinning with possibilities. “A very astute analysis, my dear. Perhaps I should take you into my confidence more often.”

“You should,” Hanni replied breezily. “I’m smarter than half the people you surround yourself with. And cuter.”

“Undeniably true,” Praetorius said, lifting his wineglass in a mock toast. “To your insights—and to the chaos yet to come.”

Hanni clinked her imaginary glass with his, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Here’s to that. Let’s see how much more trouble Tibby stirs up.”

The infirmary smelled faintly of antiseptic and herbs, the sharp tang softened by the dim lighting and the quiet hum of activity. Chowon pushed the door open, her steps hesitant as she glanced around. Her heart had been tight in her chest since the match, her mind racing with what she might say when she saw Tibby. She hadn’t expected him to take the beating so well—or to see him sitting on the bed, entirely healed, casually tossing a small orb of light from one hand to the other.

“Tibby?” she called softly, stepping into the room.

He looked up, his grin as bright as ever, though his eyes carried the weight of someone who had been through far more than his expression let on. “Chowon! Fancy seeing you here. Thought you’d be off celebrating Momotaro’s big win.”

Her brow furrowed as she approached him. “Don’t start with that. I came to see you.”

“Me?” He tossed the orb one last time and caught it, letting the light fade from his hand. “I’m fine. See? Not a scratch on me.”

“That’s not the point.” Chowon crossed her arms, standing just a few feet from him now. Her gaze softened as she took him in—whole, unharmed, and still as infuriatingly carefree as ever. “Tibby, you scared me out there. I thought…” She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Tibby tilted his head, his grin fading as he noticed the worry etched into her features. “Hey,” he said, his voice dropping to something quieter, more sincere. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Chowon bit her lip, her emotions threatening to spill over. “You didn’t just worry me. You… you made it impossible to look away. The way you fought, the way you moved—it was like you were trying to carry the whole arena on your shoulders. Why do you push yourself like that?”

Tibby sighed, leaning back on his hands. “It’s not about pushing myself. It’s about showing everyone what I can do. People see me as some loudmouth clown with a flashy weapon, but I’ve got more than jokes and tricks. That match was my way of proving it.”

“And nearly getting yourself killed was part of that plan?” she shot back, her voice trembling.

He looked at her for a long moment, the usual spark in his eyes dimmed. “I knew the risks,” he said finally. “But I’m not here to play it safe, Chowon. I’m here to win. And sometimes that means taking hits, making people believe I’m down before I show them I’m not.”

Her arms dropped to her sides, and she took another step closer. “But at what cost, Tibby? What if next time, you don’t get up?”

Tibby’s grin returned, softer this time. “Then I guess I’ll have to make sure there isn’t a next time, huh?”

Chowon huffed, her frustration mingling with relief. Without thinking, she reached out and placed a hand on his arm, the warmth of his skin grounding her. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice dipping lower, more intimate. “But you’re still here.”

Her breath caught at his words, and for a moment, the world outside the infirmary seemed to fade away. Tibby turned his arm slightly, letting his hand rest over hers.

“I’ll be careful,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “For you.”

Chowon’s lips curved into a small, reluctant smile. “You better be.”

They stayed like that for a moment, their fingers lightly brushing as a quiet understanding passed between them. Tibby might be reckless, but here, in this moment, he was grounded—by her, and maybe for her.

“Alright,” he said, breaking the silence but not moving away. “Since I’m all healed up, what do you say we get out of here? I could use some fresh air, and I’m guessing you could use some company that doesn’t have a death wish.”

Chowon laughed softly, shaking her head. “Fine. But only if you promise not to do anything stupid for at least one day.”

Tibby smirked as he stood, their hands lingering together for a beat longer before he let go. “Deal. One day of no stupid.”

As they left the infirmary together, the weight of the earlier fight began to lift, replaced by the quiet comfort of knowing they didn’t have to face what came next alone.

The smell of melted cheese and garlic wafted through the air as Tibby and Chowon sat across from each other in a small, cozy pizzeria just outside the tournament grounds. The place was lively but not overwhelming, a perfect retreat from the chaos of the arena. A half-eaten pepperoni and mushroom pizza sat between them, the grease glistening under the warm light.

Tibby leaned back in his chair, one hand resting lazily on the table as he polished off his slice. “You know,” he said between bites, “there’s nothing quite like a good pizza after almost dying in front of thousands of people.”

Chowon gave him a pointed look, though a smile tugged at her lips. “If you’re trying to make me lose my appetite, you’re doing a great job.”

He grinned, grabbing another slice. “C’mon, you’ve gotta admit, it makes the pizza taste better. Like a victory meal, even though I technically lost.”

“Technically?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, fine, definitely lost,” Tibby conceded with a shrug. “But I made my point. And now, I’ve got Lucion to worry about.”

Chowon set her slice down, her expression turning thoughtful. “Lucion’s no joke, Tibby. He’s precise, calculating. He doesn’t make mistakes.”

Tibby nodded, his demeanor shifting slightly. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. He’s the kind of guy who waits for you to slip up, then takes you apart piece by piece. But that’s the thing—he’s all about reacting. If I don’t give him the chance to counter, I might be able to throw him off his game.”

Chowon tilted her head, watching him closely. “So, what’s the plan?”

Tibby leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Speed. Lucion likes to control the pace, but if I keep things fast—keep him guessing—I might be able to catch him off guard. And I’ve been working on a couple of new tricks. The key is making him think he’s in control when he’s not.”

Chowon’s lips curved into a small smile. “You’re really taking this seriously.”

“Of course I am,” Tibby said, his voice softening. “Lucion’s not just another opponent. He’s a test. If I can beat him, it proves I belong here.”

Chowon reached out, her hand brushing against his on the table. “You already proved that today. Whether you beat Lucion or not, you’ve shown everyone what you’re capable of.”

Tibby looked at her, the usual playfulness in his eyes replaced by something more genuine. “Thanks, Chowon. That means a lot, coming from you.”

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze before pulling back. “Just promise me you’ll stick to your plan and not do anything reckless. You don’t have to win every fight by being the flashiest guy in the room.”

Tibby chuckled, grabbing another slice. “No promises. But I’ll try to keep the stupid to a minimum. For you.”

Chowon rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered. As they continued eating, the tension from the day’s events slowly melted away, replaced by the easy camaraderie and quiet understanding they shared. Whatever challenges lay ahead, Tibby knew he had someone in his corner—and that made all the difference.

#marvel fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #ive smut #wonyoung smut #gaeul smut #choerry smut #loona smut #artms smut

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the-apple-of-her-eye-au · 5 months ago

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I am SOBBING with how cute this is, please a round of applause for @blitzy-blitzwing who has made me overload with adorableness 💜🩷

Kid Loona and Toddler Via from The Stars in His Eyes

They are just too CUTE AHHHHUU

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #ao3 #stolitz #human stolitz #loona helluva boss #loona #octavia helluva boss #via #octavia #the stars in his eyes #human loona #human via #character designs

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fletchingbrilliant · 6 months ago

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The Demonlitionist and The Angel Factor

10 have assembled, and only 3 remain waiting in the wings~

Read the latest chapter of Blitzø's 13, (written by @zaebeecee and me) HERE

#my art #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanart #helluva boss #helluva boss fanart #hellaverse #hellaverse fanart #hellaverse fanfiction #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin husk #hazbin vaggie #hazbin cherri bomb #helluva blitzø #helluva blitzo #helluva fizzarolli #helluva millie #helluva moxxie #helluva loona

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alastor-simp · 7 months ago

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Hugging Them Out Of Nowhere - I.M.P Gang + Stolas x Reader

❥WARNING: Will contain some swear words/profanity

❥Notes: Here we goooooo! Starting to write for the Helluva Boss series now. It might take a while for me to get in depth with some of the characters especially Blitz since hes a very chaotic character, but I'll try my best. There will be hints/spoilers from the other episodes in the series.

Based on last weeks episode, Blitz and Stolas deserve these hugs!!!

I will do more for the other characters like Fizz and Verosika soon. Enjoy you guys:)

Blitzø🐴

🐴Hugging Blitz was not very common at I.M.P. He was a very touchy feely with everyone at work especially with Moxxie and Millie. There were many work group hugs that he initiated with the rest of you, which was met with not a lot of enthusiasm back, well except from Millie.

🐴Finding a job was an IMP wasn't very easy since many of the work establishments used imps as either slaves or whatever paid the lowest amount since imps were on the bottom of the food chain. Seeing the silly jingle for the Immediate Murder Professionals on TV, you quickly came to look for a job and were introduce to everyone by Blitz. Blitz was.....well he was an okay boss. There were moments where he was a downright dickwad and others where he showed a compassionate side, but it wasn't commonly seen.

🐴Your relationship with him started off just being employee and boss, but it soon changed to friends as time went on. There was more to Blitz that met the eye and you had seen the sides of him that not many others saw and it made your heart ache. You doubt if even Loona knew about it and she was Blitz adopted daughter, but their relationship was kinda rocky.

🐴Sitting on the lounge couch in the I.M.P office, you jumped a bit when the door slammed opened. Blitz had walked in, but he wasn't in an upbeat mood like he usually was. His face was in a deep scowl and there were big dark circles under his eyes. He barely even reacted when Millie shouted a "Good Morning Boss" at him, as he sluggishly walked towards his office and slammed the door, leaving you and the others alone.

🐴"Umm...is he okay?" you were the only one who spoke, while the others just continued about their day. "Don't know, don't care." was the short response you got from Loona, as she sat with her legs on the desk, typing away on her phone. Moxxie just shrugged his shoulders and said that "Sir usually has moments like this and its best to leave him alone." Your eyes looked back at the door to Blitz office, contemplating if you should go and seem him. Heaving a deep sigh, you got up from your position on the couch and made your way over to the door.

🐴Looking into the room, you see that the room was dark, with small beams of red light coming from the blinds in the window. Blitz was sitting on his chair, head resting on his arms that were folded on top of the desk. Making your way slowly towards him, you called out his name softly.

🐴"UGHHHH! FUCKING CHRIST ON A STICK! CAN'T A GUY JUST HAVE SOME ALONE TI-" He stopped mid-sentence in his rant, as you had wrapped your arms around, giving him a hug. Blitz had no idea how to respond this your actions, as he stayed still, tail moving back and forth. "If you think offering sexual favors is going to increase your pay, then think again." Blitz grumbled out, but he raised an eyebrow when he heard you give a soft chuckle.

🐴"I'm not doing this for sex Blitz. I'm trying to make you feel better. I don't know whats going on with you, but I'm here if you need to talk about it." Not a word was said after that, as you continued to hold Blitz. His body was tense throughout the whole hug, but you felt him slowly relax against you. You felt something long wrap around your abdomen, pulling you closer towards him. You quickly realized it was his tail, and moved closer into the hug.

🐴After a few minutes, the hug slowly came to an end, as Blitz unwrapped his tail from you, allowing you to step back. Blitz's red irises held a bit of softness in them, as he continued to stare at you. He turned his head away, but one of his hands made his way up to your head and gave it a slight pat. "Thanks for that." he said to you, as his hand fell from your head. You smiled back and gave a small nod. Blitz then lifted his head and was wearing a large smile. "Alright time to get ready to kill some fuckers for our clients. MOXXIE! GET YOUR FAT ASS IN HERE!"

Moxxie🔫

🔫Starting as a new employee at I.M.P had you nervous, causing you to fiddle with your hands. You didn't know how the others would be, fearing they would hate you upon first seeing you. Surprisingly, they were kind people, as you were offered a huge hug from the imp named Millie and a little wave from her husband Moxxie. The hellhound seemed a bit antisocial when you saw her, but she was nice enough to give you a small head nod before going back to her cellular device.

🔫Your skills in fighting were subpar, but Moxxie and Millie were kind enough to train you. You had gotten closer to them over time especially Moxxie, but not in the romantic sense, you saw Moxxie as a big brother. You loved how passionate he was about singing and creating songs, and you adored how he soft he was for his wife.

🔫There were moments you felt really bad for Moxxie as he had to endure the nasty insults that either Blitz or Loona would throw at him. You still couldn't figure out why they kept calling him fat, like what? You were always there to cheer him up though whenever he was having a bad day, especially after having to deal with Blitz all day.

🔫Today was a bit of an odd day as a helicopter had arrived to pick up Moxxie, along with Millie and Blitz. You couldn't figure out what was going on, but you decided to stay behind in the office in case something happened and to watch over Loona for Blitz. They were gone for a while and had returned back in the afternoon, but this time Blitz was wearing a leather jacket and Moxxie was in a wedding dress? Curious you asked what the hell happened and Millie was kind enough to tell you everything.

🔫Your heart ached for Moxxie when you found out about his horrible father. You honestly wished you had gotten on the trip so you could stab his father in the face. Your eyes glanced over to look for Moxxie but he had slip away from you. Wondering where he went you followed after him. Leaving the room, you wondered out in the hallway and peered to see where he went. The last place you checked was the public restroom, so you went inside there.

🔫The bathroom wasn't the best but it wasn't the worse, since the toilets actually worked, but the floor definitely needed a cleaning and the mirrors needed replacing. You heard the sound of sniffles coming from one of the stalls and walked closer to it. Opening the stall door slowly, you looked inside to see Moxxie sitting on the toilet. He was still wearing the dress, and his legs were up on the seat, covering his face with them, as he had his arms and tail wrapped around his legs.

🔫"Moxxie?" calling out his name, you slowly entered the stall, closing the door behind you. He jolted upon hearing you call his name, removing his face from his legs, showing his tear streaked face. "Oh crumbs. Sorry I'm..I'm alright, don't worry about me." He tried to play it off that he was alright, but you can tell that his smile was forced. moving closer, you dropped down to your knees, inching closer to wrap your arms around him in a hug. No words came from Moxxie when you did this, but you heard the sounds of whimpering coming from him, as he moved his arms to wrap you in a tight hug, moving his head to cry on your shoulder.

🔫Placing your hand on his back, you rubbed it to provide him comfort as he continued to cry. It sounded like he was okay now as the sounds of his crying had stopped and his breathing had returned to normal. "What has you so upset, Mox?" Pulling away, you continued to stay on your knees to look at him. "Just....I feel so useless. I never wanted to go back to my old life, and the time I do, I finally get to stand up to my father, only to be knocked out like a weakling. I should have killed him, I could have but I didn't, and I almost got Millie and Blitz hurt because of me." "Moxxie stop!" Moxxie clamped his mouth shut, upon hearing you yell. "From what I heard from Millie, you opposed your father and even threatened him, and to me that is anything, but weak. You defended the love of your life, and told your psychopathic father to F off, so whatever negative thoughts you having going on in that head of yours, tell them to F off too."

🔫Moxxie eyes widen as he heard you talk, before returning to normal. The sad look on his face was replaced with a soft smile, as he wiped his tears away with his hand. "Haha thanks Y/N." Smiling back, you stood up from the ground and reached your hand out to grab Moxxie's, lifting him from the toilet. "Come on, lets get you out of that dress, even though you look very cute in it." A pinkish tint appeared on Moxxies face, before he yelled a "Hey!" and punched your arm, causing you to laugh.

Millie🪓

🪓Your first impression of Millie was not what you expected. You were very surprised that someone as kind and sweet as her was from the Wrath ring. The memories from your encounter in the Wrath ring gave you PTSD and you never wanted to experience that again, but Millie was making you slowly change your opinion.

🪓She was the definition of a hellish southern belle. Her country accent was adorable and the warmth she expressed with everyone was very motherly. You did see more of her violent side during your missions, but she was far from scary, badass was the word to describe it.

🪓The both of you had become two peas in a pod when you started working at I.M.P. The both of you participate in girly hobbies like going to spa trips and clothes shopping, but it did become target practice training on some days, as you really needed to improve your combat skills and Millie was kind enough to help you with that.

🪓It was very rare to see her in a depressive state, but you had seen it first hand during the mission at Camp Ivannakummore. You had just spotted Millie and Moxxie arguing about the mission and Millie running off crying, upset that Moxxie wasn't giving her a chance to shine. You weren't upset with Moxxie as it was clear he felt horrible for upsetting Millie. You told him to go do what he had to do and that you would go check up on Millie.

🪓It took a while, but you were able to find Millie, sitting behind the curtain on the stage at the camp. She was still upset as she still had tiny pinpricks of tears on her eyes. She spotted you and try to play it off, but you had run up to her and gave her a massive hug. Millie raised her hands up in shock, before looping her arms around your back, hugging you back super tight. "Are you okay?" you whispered.

🪓"I'm alright, suga. Don't worry about me." Millie said, as she tightned her arms around you more, making it hard to breathe. "Ack, can't breathe!" Millie gasped and removed her arms around, waving her arms up in the air. "Oh gosh! I'm so sorry. I forget my own strength sometimes. Ya alright?" Millie kept checking to make sure you were okay to which you responded with a thumbs up. "Moxxie felt bad about what had happened, and I'm pretty sure he's gonna come around and apologize to you. Come on, go out there and perform Millie. You gonna knock their socks off."

🪓A bright smile returned to Millie face, as she gave you another hug, yelling out Thanks, before she let go and made her way up to the stage.

Loona🐺

🐺Awkward, was the word to describe your relationship with Loona at the beginning of when you two first met. You honestly had no idea how to approach her since she seemed very unamiable with everyone, including her adopted father, Blitz. Her personality tended to shift to being very sarcastic to angry rebel, and you had no idea which one you were going to get when you talked to her.

🐺Blitz noticed your attempts to bond with Loona and it actually warmed his heart, as he did noticed that Loona didn't really have many friends except Vortex. He hatched a plan to get you two to become friends by inviting you over for a sleepover. You were happy that Blitz wanted to help, but you still felt this was overdoing it.

🐺Entering inside Blitz home, you scanned the walls, observing the pinned up photos and decor. You spotted Loona, who was sitting on the couch, who leaned her head back to look at you before putting it back up. Blitz had appeared from the bathroom, and noticed you at the door. "AH, you made it! C'mon, sit right here next to Loony!" Blitz had dragged you by the hand to the couch and made you sit down. "There we go, now the both of you are gonna have a fun bonding sleepover party. I'm gonna go out and hang out with Fizz, so both of you have fun!" Blitz said with excitement as he literally ran to the door yelling out a "BYE LOONY TOONY! LOVE YOU!" before slamming it.

🐺Now it was only two, alone in the living room. You had no idea what to do, so you just moved your eyes around the room, taking in everything. You smiled at some of the photos of Loona and Blitz, especially the adoption photo. Your eyes then move to look at Loona. She was wearing dark purple shirt that said "Fuck You Dad" and black lounge shorts with skulls on them. Loona lifted her head a bit from her phone, and noticed your eyes staring at her. "What?!" She growled out a response. Shaking your head, you stopped staring and quickly apologized. "Oh nothing, just...I like your pajamas. They're cool." Loona blinked at your response, having seemed to calm down. She gazed at her shirt, then back at you, "Um..thanks".

🐺You smiled back at her, and looked away. No one said a word after that, leaving the room in silence. "Have you heard of them before?" was spoken next to you, causing you to jump. Looking back at Loona, you tilted your head, "Um..who?" Loona pointed to her shirt, "Fuck You Dad. They are a band." "Oh no I haven't. Are they good?" Loona smiled a bit and moved to the side to grab a pair of headphones, while handing one to you.

🐺The both of you listened to the music, bopping your heads to the beat. The atmosphere slowly began to improve between the both of you, as after that you both chatted about other music genres and cool books to check out. The both of you decided to watch a movie, as you went into the kitchen to make some popcorn, while Loona put on a thriller movie to watch. After the movie, you had realize it had gotten late, and decided it was time to head for bed. You decided to sleep on the couch, as you didn't want to make the new relationship with Loona weird again if you slept in the same room. Loona bid you a goodnight and close the door to the room, as you got comfortable on the couch.

🐺You were awakened by the loud growling sounds coming from somewhere. You got up groggily and headed to where the sounds were coming from. They were coming from Loonas room, so you decided to open the door to see if she was okay. Upon entering her room, you saw her laying on her bed, hugging herself as she continued to whimper and growl. "Loona?" you walked closer to where she was, and sat on the bed, reaching out a hand to touch her. She had woken up at that, and shot up from her position on the bed, growling while baring her teeth at you. Her eyes were full of fear, and she had small tears in the corners of them. You jumped a bit at her reaction, but stayed where you were. "Loona, its me." you spoke in a calm tone, to reassure Loona you meant know harm Extending your arms out, you slowly moved towards her, wrapping your arms around her to give her a comforting hug. Loona's slit eyes had widen, signifying that she was calming down. She soon realized you were hugging her, and raised an eyebrow at you, "What are you doing?"

🐺You slowly released her from the hug and moved back a bit, to glance up at her. "I was trying to comfort you. You seemed to have had a bad nightmare." Loona said nothing, and just leaned back, crossing her arms. "It was nothing. Don't worry about it." Heaving a sigh, you uttered an okay and got up from the bed. You were stopped when you felt a hand grab yours, stopping you in your tracks. Turning your head back, you looked a Loona, who was wearing a bit of a shy expression. "Can...uh...can you lay with me for the night?" Widening your eyes at that, you gave her a soft smile back, and slowly moved towards the bed. You laid on the opposite side of where she was staying, and turned your back towards her. You felt her settle behind you, heaving out a long sigh. The room became quiet again, making you believe she had fallen back asleep, but you felt a pair of arms wrapped around you from behind. Her large tail had moved under the sheets to lay on top of you, it was amazingly soft. "Thanks." was what you heard from behind you. You smiled and moved one of your hands to pet her tail before closing your eyes, falling into a deep sleep.

Stolas🦉

🦉You were the one of the maids/butlers that resided in the Goetia Family mansion. You were newly employed by the family, so there were many things that you had to learn from the other imps, but the job was fairly easy.

🦉The inhabitants of the mansion was the Prince of the Goetia Family, Prince Stolas, and his wife and daughter, Stella and Octavia. Fear had filled you when you first saw Stolas in front of you, when you asked for a job. He was extremely handsome, and quite tall as well. His appearance was very stoic and graceful, yet it still made you feel sheepish when he gazed at you with a cold expression. He may have appeared very distant, but there was more to him that met the eye, as he hired you immediately and offered you adequate pay for your services and your own room in the mansion.

🦉He was a prince, but there were other things about him that you soon discovered during your time at the mansion. He was such a nerd, his love for exotic plants and astrology always made you smile, as you saw how at peace and happy he was when he was indulging in his hobbies. His love for his daughter was extremely sweet, always looking out for her and making sure she was safe and happy.

🦉It soon became clear that he was having an affair with someone else, given how often you caught him giggling about said person on the phone. He often referred to him as "Blitzy" and you happened to see said person or imp, when they were climbing up the balcony to Stolas chambers. You happened to hear the both of them going at it one night when Stella and her daughter were away. Let's just say that whatever was going on in there was best left unseen, but you noticed how much carefree and joyful Stolas was after, so you thought to best leave it alone.

🦉Stolas was called away very late at night for some unknown activity. Whatever he was, he was very excited and dressed to nines. He was gone for quite a while, so you decided it be best to head to bed. Your dreams were disrupted by the sounds of Stella yelling, my satan, she was such an annoying dreadful women. Getting up from your bed, you made your way over to where the sounds were coming from, and headed to one of the balcony's. Hiding away, your eyes spotted Stolas and Stella standing in front of each other. Your ears were able to pick up Stolas saying "𝒲𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝑔𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒟𝒾𝓋𝑜𝓇𝒸𝑒!" Oh my satan! He was finally asking for a divorce!

🦉The rage in Stella's voice was apparent as you heard her insult Stolas one last time, before turning away from him. You hid yourself even more, so she wouldn't be able to spot you. Once the coast was clear, you walked out and made your way over to the balcony to where Stolas still remained. His back was turned towards you, and he was leaning against the railing of the balcony, hands clutching at the feathers at the top of his head. The aching in your heart grew at his sad display. He was suffering so much.

🦉"Your highness?" Stolas jolted from his position, standing up from his regular height, and turning his head all the way back to look at you. "𝒪-𝑜𝒽 𝒴𝒩! 𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓊𝓅?" His eyes were dripping with tears, smearing his lower eyelids with black mascara. "I happened to hear you and Stella arguing." Stolas heaved a sigh, and pointed his head down in shame. "𝑀𝓎 𝒹𝑒𝑒𝓅𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓅𝑜𝓁𝑜𝑔𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝐼 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒷 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝓁𝓊𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇" He was in front of you right now, crying, and he was apologizing to you? No no, he had no reason to apologize.

🦉"May you do something for me your highness?" you asked while walking closer to him. Stolas lifted his head and said "𝒴𝑒𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒾𝓉?" "Can you sit on the ground for me?" Stolas tilted his head at you, confused, but he proceeded to do as you ask. Now that he was level with you, you moved closer to wear he sat, throwing your arms around him in a comforting hug. "𝒪𝒽 𝑀𝓎!" Stolas let out a surprised hoot, raising his arms in shock at your actions. Squeezing a bit tighter, you continued to hug him. "I apologize for doing this, but you looked in need of a hug." Stolas grew less tense and placed his hands on your shoulders, pushing you back a bit. "𝐼'𝓂 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑜 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹-" Stolas stopped when he saw the look on your face, basically telling him you were NOT buying what he was saying.

🦉"Its obvious to me you are not alright. You had just broken off the marriage with your horrid wife and you are staying up here, crying your heart out. What you need right now is a hug and some comfort. I understand if you are not comfortable with it and you can push me away." It all happened so quick, Stolas had wrapped his hands around you, pulling you back into a tight hug. He had lowered his head enough to where it was pushed against your chest. Sounds of sobbing could be heard and you felt your shirt becoming slightly dampen from his tears. You cradled his head against you, rubbing the back of his head feathers gently. The both of you remained in the position, with you holding Stolas as he continued to let all of his emotions out.

🦉His sobs soon came to an end, and he removed his head from your chest, but he kept his arms wrapped around your back. His crimson eyes glanced down at you and he was wearing a soft smile. "𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝒴𝒩." Smiling, you moved your hand to wipe the last of the tears on his face. "You are welcome, your highness." "𝒪𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑜 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝒹𝒹𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓎. 𝒫𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒, 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒 𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓁𝒶𝓈." Your eyes widen a bit a that, before they returned to normal. "Okay." Stolas smiled even more and leaned his forehead against yours, thank you again.

🦉"It might be a bit late to ask this, but would you like some ice cream?" Stolas face stilled for a bit, before he broke into a hooting laugh. "𝐼 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽."

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@angelinevalentine89 , @yunimimii , @staryosh1 ,

@mihawksdemoness , @crystalreads , @blahblahbruhmeow ,

@madam-strawberryrose , @inkslayer , @azazel-nyx , @lixanjewel ,

@artemisandhunters , @thereeallink , @ask-theradio-demon ,

@lousypotatoes @l4zyb0n35 , @midorichoco

@lillylovesalastorsm1 , @cosmiccoralz , @iheartalastor ,

@mezzo-piano230 , @yukiinee

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enderz-helluva · 7 months ago

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New Poster for "HELLRIDE" (Helluva Boss AU Spin-off)

Enzo x Loona <3

186 notes · View notes

mintwithchoco · 1 year ago

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[CYMX-461] "My Roommates And I Were Playing Monopoly And Suddenly, One Of Them Lets Me Fuck Her Ass To Pay The Rent! Will My Other Roommate Be Okay With Us Fucking Right In Front Of Her?"

LOOΠΔ/ARTMS/ODD EYE CIRCLE Choerry x LOOΠΔ/ARTMS/ODD EYE CIRCLE Jinsoul x Male Reader

Word Count: 5424 words

Categories: smut, anal, masturbation, oral, more anal, threesome, squirting (?), just pure anal, commission

Commission Details: a big-sized of mint choco ice cream (2k-4k words)

Trigger Warning: mentions of alcohol

aff link

"Come ooooon, oppa! It'll be quick, I promise!" Yerim said while dragging you to the photo booth.

"With this much stuff?" you said while holding up three plastic bags containing food and drinks for dinner tonight.

"Don't worry about it! Just a few pictures and then we'll be on our way home alright? Please, oppa? Pretty pleeeeease?" Yerim insisted, showing her puppy eyes while holding onto your right arm.

Goodness, she's so cute!

You sighed. "Last stop, then we're heading home."

Yerim squealed with delight. You both then entered the photo booth, her hands dragging you along by your arm. Yerim's impatience caught up with you before you could even put the plastic bags down. She quickly inserted some coins into the machine and pressed the shutter button.

"Get ready to take your photo!"

"Woah hold on—"

"Say cheese!"

◍───────

Yerim's heartful laughter resonated across the quiet street. It's been about ten minutes and still, she couldn't stop busting a gut over your face in the pictures you both took earlier at the photo booth.

"Are you done Yerim?" you asked, blatantly annoyed by her playfulness.

The dark brown-haired girl who was holding her belly began to calm down, before bursting out in another series of giggles once again.

"Sorry, sorry, I just can't get over how funny you looked in these photos oppa!" Yerim reminded you of the photos you both took just a little while ago.

They turned out great in her eyes, but not in yours. Yerim had different expressions and poses, while you looked silly in a few photos due to the sudden rush. One picture that cracks Yerim up was where you were just a blurry thing behind her.

"Well, if someone cared to wait for a little bit, then the pictures would turn out good!" you exclaimed.

"Hehehe, sorry oppa! I just wanted to make it quick. Besides, Jinsol unnie's probably waiting for us at home."

You looked at your wristwatch. "Oof, yeah, it's already ten. Let's hurry then, we don't want the tiger to show its fangs again!"

Yerim giggled. "That was unnie's fault! She didn't tell me about waking her up for class yesterday! You see, I-"

As Yerim continued defending herself about what happened the morning before, you both eventually arrived at your shared apartment after a few turns. Inside the apartment, Yerim then cheekily hopped on each staircase, leading up to the third floor. You tried catching up to her, but you're not taking the risk of potentially dropping the dinner for tonight — it was all on you as well.

The doorbell rang a couple of times, startling Jinsol who was watching a variety show on the TV. After clumsily falling off the couch because of the shock, Jinsol rushed towards the door to open it.

"Unnie!" Yerim shrieked out like she hadn't seen Jinsol for days.

“Jeez, you're so loud! You were only out for two hours!”

“And that’s enough for me to miss you!" Yerim instantly hugged Jinsol who had a mix of concerned and disgusted looks on her face.

"Bro, that's cringe," Jinsol answered, but quickly returned the hug.

You went inside the apartment quietly, unnoticed by the two lovebirds. You gave a low sigh after seeing the mess in the living room caused by the woman who was still stuck in Yerim's embrace. Jinsol loves building and playing around with Gundam figurines, but you're not a big fan of how many of the small parts are scattered around the house after she's done with them. Even after you have countlessly stepped onto them and screamed out in pain, you never really complained about it to Jinsol since you knew that she wouldn't listen.

That is the truth of living in this apartment with these two — Choi Yerim and Jung Jinsol. One is an enthusiastic and extremely extroverted girl with no shame, and another one is a quiet, dorky, and yet chaotic girl who was possibly a man in her past life. At the very least, your apartment doesn't feel too quiet with these two hanging around.

After cleaning a bit of Jinsol's work on the table, you put down the plastic bags and got out the four boxes of food, three canned beer, and a box of two strawberry cake slices.

"Stop getting onto my back, you're heavy!" Jinsol exclaimed.

Yerim whined, "Ah, you're so mean unnie!"

Both of them made their way to the living room with Yerim clinging onto Jinsol like glue, hugging her by the waist. Once you opened a box with tteokbokki inside, the smell disseminated into the air, making everyone in the living room drool. Jinsol didn’t waste anymore time as she jumped over the couch and sat down on the floor. Yerim joined in soon after, sitting beside Jinsol and grabbed a drink.

“Sheeeesh, this is a lot!” Jinsol exclaimed. “Can we even finish this? And cakes? Seriously?”

“What’s wrong with them, unnie?” Yerim asked. “I’ve been craving a cake for days! They’re also perfect for desserts!”

“Well, you better finish it! The fridge is already full from your yogurts and jellies. Can’t even store that beef tripe that I got from my mom yesterday.” Jinsol complained.

“You could just have a few to make more space, I don't mind! I can buy more!”

“I could, if the yogurts weren’t coconut flavor-”

You stopped the argument by letting Jinsol smell the box that you held in front of her face, the smell that she knew all too well — chicken feet. “Will this shut you up?”

Jinsol gasped and grabbed the box off of your hand. “For me?! You actually got it?!”

“As a thank you for helping me with my thesis the other day.”

"Bro, I said it was nothing, really. Thanks anyways!"

As everybody has their own set of meals, the three of you — mainly Yerim and Jinsol, enjoy the late dinner. It doesn't hurt to treat them once in a while, so you feel just as happy as they are. Not to mention, it's been a while too since all of you spent some time together in the house. Balancing work and study is already hard enough, and as cold as you were, you definitely don't want to add social life to the list.

"Oh yeah, can I borrow your notes from account class oppa? I forgot to jot down a few things." Yerim said in a muffled voice — her mouth was filled with food inside.

"Later, I haven't finished filtering it."

Jinsol looked confused. "The fuck? You filter your notes?" she asked, emphasizing the word 'filter' with her fingers.

"It means making the notes more readable for me."

"Mhm, that's why I like borrowing his notes! It's soooo much easier to read than Professor Haseul's slides!" Yerim butted in the conversation, her mouth still full with food.

"Wow, dude. I really gotta learn some stuff from you. Can I have a bit of yours?" Jinsol points to your food with her chopsticks.

"Help yourself, noona. I already ate a bit before this." Jinsol already took half of your kimbap before you even finished talking.

"With a certain… professor perhaps?" Yerim teased you and took a sip of her drink, grinning from ear to ear.

"Hey, I thought we were done with that!" you groaned.

"Doesn't help when you're the only male student that has ever been asked out by the hot and gorgeous Ms. Saerom herself!"

Jinsol was baffled once again with Yerim's statement, clearly showing her boomer attitude. She then asked, "How come that I don't know about this?"

"What the— you didn't know unnie?! It was hot shit in our class! It's like this…" Yerim then continued to ramble all about the embarrassing incident you had with the aforementioned professor with Jinsol who was weirdly interested.

Please, just end me now.

An hour has passed. Your ears were traumatized with Yerim's story and Jinsol laughter. What an eventful dinner, you thought to yourself. The three of you were finishing up on your dinner, mainly Yerim having to finish her cakes.

"Ooh ooh, do you both have anything to do after this?" Yerim excitedly asked.

You and Jinsol looked at each other before answering, "No, not really. Jinx!"

Yerim's eyes brightened up. "How about we do something together tonight? It's been a while you know!"

"What do you have in mind?" you asked.

Yerim thought to herself for a while, before her ears perked. She then quickly ran to her room.

"I still can't believe you rejected Ms. Saerom." Jinsol said, giggling quietly right after. You just shook your head in response.

Not long after, Yerim jumped out of her room and hopped towards the living room with a box in hand. "How about a game… of Monopoly?!"

You and Jinsol stared blankly at the box that Yerim held up in the air.

"I've got notes to filter." you said, and at the same time, Jinsol answered, "I gotta clean the toilet."

"Hey! You guys are no fun!" Yerim pouted, making both of you laugh out loud. "Come on now, both of you! Do you guys wanna play or not?"

You patted on the floor, signaling Yerim to sit down. "Alright alright, let's play. Sorry about that."

Yerim smiled and sat down beside you. You cleaned up the table, threw away all the food packages and cans while Yerim and Jinsol prepared the board game. Once you got back to the living room, Yerim and Jinsol were already counting the game's money.

"Oppa, which one do you want?" Yerim asked you to choose between the five tokens. With no thought in mind, you just picked one that resembles a hat. Jinsol then gave you the money for the game.

"Let's do rock paper scissors to decide our turn!" Yerim suggested.

"No no no, let's go by age." Jinsol declined Yerim's suggestion, in which she replied back with a head shake.

"Not fair, because you get to go first!"

"It doesn't change how the game plays!"

"The first player usually has a higher advantage to win!"

"And the first few Monopoly players went by age to play!"

"So then what? I'm not falling for your tricks again, unnie!" Before Yerim could press Jinsol further, your expression caught her eyes. The "I'm so done" expression on your face said it all — it's the girl's battleground and you have no right to speak. She immediately ended the argument as she doesn't want you to feel left out. "Y-You know what, oppa, you go first."

"Eh? So suddenly?" Yerim nods her head.

"Well, if you say so. I'm still gonna win though!" Jinsol surrendered as well. A bit odd this time since it usually ended up with either one of them winning, but you couldn't care any less. You started off the game as Yerim gave you the two dices, and it marked the starting point to an endless night.

─◍──────

Yerim was sweating. Not because it was hot, and not because of the beer she drank. It's because of her current situation. Two hours have passed, and her roommate has been on the road to taking the win for the game. Almost all the entire property on the board was owned by him, and it is clearly shown by how much money he has on hand.

"It's your turn noona." he said after buying a hotel on one of his properties.

"Man, this sucks." Jinsol whined and rolled the dice. Both of the dice showed a three — she landed on her own property! A silent "Yes!" was heard from her lips before she made her move on the board.

"That won't last for long." he teased Jinsol who just gave a sigh out of relief.

"You mean my luck? The one that won't last that long is your money! Your turn Yerim!" Jinsol fought back and took a sip of her can of beer, her words are as striking as an anime protagonist.

Throughout all of this, Yerim was lost in thought. Two things were running around her mind — her game and her crush. On the board, she was at the worst place, where any move she made was guaranteed to land on his property. Unless she rolls an exact number of 11 on the dice, she would have to pull a Chance Card. Her money was also running out, so if she got unlucky, the only option for her was to declare bankruptcy and lose, or plan B.

"Yah, what's taking you so long?" Jinsol snapped Yerim out of her trance. She was shaking up the dice inside her hands for almost a minute.

"Oh, sorry! H-Here goes nothing!" Yerim released the dice and it rolled to a number of five—

Come on, come on, come onnnn!

—and a four, totalling up for a nine.

Yerim was stunned. Amidst the laughter from Jinsol, she needed to think and act quickly. Is she about to lose to this board game that gives her no benefit, or take a chance that she'll probably regret in a long time if it goes wrong?

Fuck it, it's plan B!

───◍────

"Come on Yerimie, make your move~" you teased Yerim. Finally, this game is gonna end soon. I really need to sleep.

You noticed that Yerim's eyes were calm and her lips had a bittersweet smile — an expression that you knew very well. You and Jinsol call it the "I accept my fate" look and because of its rarity, you were a bit weirded out by her behavior. Especially that she had a bit of alcohol too. Typically at this point, she would whine about going to lose.

Yerim moved her token while counting down, "One, two, three, four,-" she stopped for a while, and continued, "-five, six, seven, eight, and nine."

"Well, well, well, looks like it's gonna be between the two of us now, noon—"

"Hold on!" Yerim cuts you off, the loudness of it shocked Jinsol.

"Ow, my goddamn ear— you've lost Yerim! What else can you do?" Jinsol groaned.

"There's… something that I can do."

"Like what, taking a loan—" Jinsol's eyes widened at the scene unfolding in front of her.

Without any hesitation, Yerim placed a hand on your shoulder, got closer to your face and connected both of your lips together. Jinsol's "Ehh?!'' was useless to Yerim's ear as she deepened the kiss. Meanwhile, you just eased into the kiss, instead of freaking out. Possibly because the beer has seeped into your brain, immobilizing you from denying her sudden action.

"Fuck my ass."

“Wha—“

The simple kiss then elevated to a make out, with Yerim acting as the guide to both of your tongues, twirling against one another. Your consciousness returns after a few seconds, realizing the state that you were in. As Yerim was pulling you in by the waist, sliding her hands under your shirt and feeling your body with her fingers, you begin to resist the fall into temptation— she's your roommate for heaven's sake!

Curse you, alcohol!

Yerim noticed how you were flinching around, obviously denying her actions. Putting a halt to the slightly forced make out, she smirked and whispered softly into your ear, "Don't worry oppa, I'm not drunk. I just wanna pay my rent."

"B-But Yerim, don't you think we should uhh…" Look beside you, and Jinsol was still there, with an annoyi— Wait, she's smiling?

"Don't mind me, just go on ahead." Jinsol said while getting up. "Don't go too rough on my Yerim, you hear me?" You nod slightly in response.

Jinsol then quickly made her way to the toilet, leaving both you and Yerim alone in the living room with your mouths open.

────◍───

Jinsol closed the toilet door behind her and leaned against it. She bit her lips desperately — it has been a while since she'd seen a view so hot, especially when it's her two hot roommates.

Jinsol once mentioned that she doesn't like both of her roommates in a romantic manner. In fact, she has taken an interest in someone else and made a lot of progress with them. However, when it comes to her sexual desires, no one truly knows how much Jinsol craves to get a good fucking, and she's not really picky about the details.

Fuck, how she just pulled him into it is so hot! Where did Yerim learn how to do that?

Jinsol lets her intrusive thoughts win as her hands slipped under her shorts and underwear, reaching towards her already warm pussy. A gulp down her throat, and she was half naked in an instant.

This is so wrong. What if they found out that I'm touching myself to them fucking?

Her denial was thrown out of the window as Jinsol's ear caught Yerim's low moans, letting her imagination run wild. It can't be helped that she has seen both her roommates in only their underwear once, so she only has to fill in the missing details. Hesitation was evident in her eyes but as Yerim’s moans become more vocal, it breaks her out of the shell of anxiety.

A quick one wouldn't hurt.

─────◍──

"I'm paying with my ass, oppa. Fuck my ass until you're satisfied."

Once the toilet door was heard closing, you both wasted no time making out once again. Being the fuel of this fire, Yerim tugged onto your shirt and moved herself to sit on your lap. You didn't back down however, as lust has taken over you, by grabbing her plump ass. The shorts that she's wearing were tantalizing at best. Her milky thighs were wrapped around your waist, evidently driving you nuts with a tent already forming in your pants.

"I've been waiting for this moment, oppa. You don't know how many times I've touched myself to you." Yerim words sent shivers down your spine, and more of it came right after as she pressed her lower body onto yours, letting you feel the warmth of her core. It seemed that Yerim did her research properly beforehand as she got out a small bottle of lube from the pocket of her shorts and placed it aside.

"Holy fuck, Yerim." Your head fell onto Yerim's right shoulder, enjoying the constant dopamine. You guide her hips by her ass, creating delicious frictions on each other's crotch. Whimpers and moans filled the room quickly, body temperatures were rising rapidly, and your undergarments were getting wet.

Yerim bit her lips, and with it came her anticipation. “Mmm, I knew that you were big after all oppa.”

Your hands did a quick work of taking away Yerim's shorts. Her moans grew louder as you were now free to fondle her bare ass. Your fingers slipped under her thin panties and were met with heat and slick, which further enthralled Yerim. The tip of your middle finger trailed down in between her ass and grazed over her pussy.

"Mmfh, that's it oppa! Touch me more!"

While Yerim undid your pants and underwear, you rubbed her vagina in circles, making sure she stayed wet and warm. Your cock plopped out, and throbbed with each sway of Yerim's hips. She then squeezed some lube on her hands and spread it all along your length to prepare you. Yerim begged and whimpered for you to put it in her ass as soon as you guided the tip of your cock so she could feel you fully.

“Please oppa, put that big fucking cock inside me! Please please please please ple— Ngh!" Yerim yelped as you smacked her butt hard.

"Shut up."

You rubbed your cock on her dripping pussy for a while, making sure that it was fully lubed up before penetrating the tight hole. Only the tip was inside her, but it gave such an intense reaction that both of your bodies jerked. Your hips lifted itself upwards slowly, and with it came a loud groan and your shaft getting deeper into Yerim.

When you successfully conquered her asshole’s resistance, Yerim wailed, immediately pulling you in for a hug with her face buried into the crook of your neck. Worriness seeped in as you felt a sudden wetness on your neck and Yerim breathing in and out profusely.

"You okay?"

“Sorry… this is… my first time.” Yerim said in between breaths.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Uhh, okay, I’ll pull out—”

Yerim suddenly sank her hips deeper into you, making you both moan and jerk once again. “Oppa, please… I’m okay. I like it.” She bit her lips again, her body reacting to each throb of you inside her, before reassuring you, “I’m yours for the— mmh! For the night. Treat me however you— fuuuuck~! Treat me however you want, please!”

Though you were hesitant, your body said the exact opposite as your hips began thrusting upwards. Both of your hands were on Yerim's sinful waist to guide the rhythm of your thrusts. There's too much for you to focus on — Yerim's lustful sounds, the tightness of her asshole, the delicious jiggles of her thighs, the alluring scent of her soothing fragrance, the way her frame perfectly fits with yours — it was all too perfect.

"Oh, fuck, Yerim-ah, Yerim-ah!"

"Ahhh, oppa! You like my ass oppa? You like fucking this tight little hole?"

Never have you nodded so quickly to a statement so true. The pressure that has been boiling up inside you was too much for you to handle already. But it looks like your playmate is already close to her peak, given by the mix of extreme pleasure that you're giving her.

Her body began trembling violently, followed by some incoherent curse words from her mouth and the spreading wetness on both of your crotches. Not caring how she is still induced in her orgasm, you pulled Yerim closer to your embrace as you chased your own as well. Enhanced by the feeling of her ample breasts covered by only her shirt on your chest, it was easier said than done.

"Fuck! Fuck! Yerim-ah! Yerim-ah!"

Yerim gained a sense of herself and screamed,"Yes! Yes! Cum inside me! Drain your balls inside this fucking ass oppa!"

The thrusting stopped after a while. One last scream of Yerim's name triggers the first burst of semen inside her. The second one fired deep inside her and it went along with her own orgasm once again. When the third and final shot was done, your cum seeped out of the tight hole, showing you how much you have filled your renter.

As your cock softened and freed itself, both of your bodies fell to the ground, drained by how intense you were. Together panting heavily and catching your breath, you both giggled after finally waking up to the euphoric high.

"Sooo, did I pay my rent oppa?" Yerim asked with an endearing smile.

You chuckled, swooning on the inside because of how cute she is, even in a messy state. "Yes, yes you did."

"Hehe, great! Oh yeah, Jinsol unnie is still in the toil— " Yerim was then interrupted by a loud scream coming from the bathroom.

You both got up quickly and looked at each other, confused by the sudden noise. Upon closer inspection with your ears, the scream turned itself into a desperate moan.

A devious smirk was painted on Yerim's face. "Oppa, you're thinking what I'm thinking?"

You nodded. Yerim stood up and handed out her hand to help you get up on your foot. Now in front of the door to the toilet, Yerim slowly opened it a little until a view was clear to her eyes.

"Ahh, fuck! Oh my god! I'm 'bout to cum! Ahh!"

Sitting inside the spacious bathtub was none other than Jinsol — bottomless, moaning away without a care to the world and furiously fingering herself to climax. Her eyes were closed as well, so it gave you and Yerim the advantage to sneak inside without her noticing. The mischievous girl then carefully stepped inside the bathtub and sat on the other end. Simultaneously, you were getting hard again by the sight of Jinsol masturbating and Yerim taking off her clothes.

Yerim began drawing near towards the opposite end, fully naked and ready to surprise her horny unnie. She bit her lips and grabbed onto Jinsol’s hand, “Aww, poor Jinsol unnie, touching herself alone in the washroom.”

Jinsol’s eyes were wide open in an instant. Her face flushed with embarrassment, froze upon seeing Yerim in front of her and you who was casually stroking your cock. “Y-Yerim?! It’s not what it looks lik—”

Yerim shuts Jinsol up with a forceful deep kiss. The forced one was resisting at first, but eventually fell into this trap of temptation laid down by Yerim. As they got up on their knees, Yerim removed Jinsol’s top, revealing her slim yet toned figure. Your excess cum from earlier begins collecting itself on your tip as you witness the two girls desperately touching each other while locking their lips together.

A gulp down your throat and soon enough, you took off your own shirt and left it on the tile floor. Yerim noticed how entranced you were and suddenly thought of an idea to spark things up. “Don’t just stand there, oppa. Join us."

It needed only two steps for you to be right in front of your two roommates, your cock flaunting itself hard and proud, close to Jinsol’s face. After exchanging a few more kisses, Yerim switched her focus towards you by stroking you gently, making Jinsol watch in awe as you throbbed under her touch. She then brought the tip close to Jinsol’s lips, letting your cum stain them.

“Go on, noona. Seems like he’s begging for you to suck it.” Yerim took the words right out of your mouth.

Before you know it, Jinsol’s tongue swirled around your shaft, gathering the sweet nectar flowing out of your slit. You threw your head back as she then engulfed your cockhead, sucking on it to taste more. At the same time, Yerim continued her gentle handjob and started to fondle your balls as well, stimulating it once again close to orgasm.

“Deeper, unnie. Yes, that’s it.” Yerim praised and patted Jinsol on the head.

You can feel Jinsol getting further down as her tongue slides against the underside of your cock, until the tip of it reaches your balls. Both of you moan audibly with both desires finally being fulfilled. You summarized that Jinsol definitely had some experience, judging by how steady and rhythmic her blowjob is. Her cheeks then hollowed, giving your cock a powerful vacuum suck.

After a few more bobs, Jinsol took her time to breathe and jerked you off. Yerim also gave some support to Jinsol’s handiwork by spitting some saliva onto your shaft, letting it spread all over. She gave quick licks on your slit and beamed over the taste of you. Meanwhile, on your side, your eyes were just glued to the two working for your pleasure. To this day, you never even foresaw this sight to ever happen in real life.

Jinsol then spoke out of the blue. “Get inside. I.. I need you.”

So fucking needy.

At last, the bathtub was filled as you positioned yourself behind Jinsol, making sure your shaft was almost in between her thighs. Jinsol moaned into Yerim’s mouth as you fondled her cute tits and tweaked her erect nipples.

“You’re so cute, noona. Whimper for us more.” you whispered into her ear and planted a few kisses on her shoulders.

Jinsol was pinned by the two of you playing around with her body, diffusing pheromones all over. Her hips squirmed as Yerim picked up where she left off earlier, teasing her wet pussy and you rubbing your tip on her asshole.

"Put it inside, oppa. Unnie must be dying to feel you."

With Yerim's guidance, you break Jinsol even more, entering her back door. Thankfully, the lube on your cock hasn't dried up too much, so it wasn't really painful, given by how tight Jinsol was. She was on par with Yerim in terms of tightness, but hers felt more warmer.

"Ahh! Yerim, he's so big!" Jinsol exclaimed, holding onto Yerim in desperation. She basically melted in Yerim's arms when you began thrusting from tip to hilt, which made Yerim smile. She loved seeing her unnie in full ecstasy as it turned her on a lot.

"Take it all in unnie. Don't resist." Yerim whispered into Jinsol's ear. She then grabbed the back of Jinsol's head and slowly guided it down her crotch while she laid down on the bathtub. Jinsol knew immediately what to do after seeing Yerim's glistening pussy.

A few licks in, and Yerim began squirming already. Her sensitivity heightened by the clear sight in front of her — her two older roommates having sex. Jinsol moved on to finger Yerim after having a taste of her core to release her expression being fucked.

"Fuck fuck fuck, harder!"

You obliged, increasing the pace of your thrusts into Jinsol. Her body wobbles deliciously when your crotch hits hers, signifying how hard you're messing her up. It gets even more intense when you're witnessing the two pretty girls making out and pleasuring one another right in front of you.

The three of you were full of sweat, exhaustion finally seeped into your bodies. A game night that turned into a wild sex night surely wasn't in your agenda, but you were glad now that it was.

"Ahh, ahh, ahh, fuuuuuck!!!!"

Jinsol let out a loud scream, her back arched and her legs trembled violently. The oldest one in the room orgasms before the two of you could even reach your own, given by how she's receiving double the pleasure. Her slick leaked out of her empty pussy, staining your crotch and Yerim's midriff.

Not long after, the knot inside your stomach grew tighter, your balls pressuring itself to release the tension. You then release yourself from Jinsol's confines and stroke yourself into your climax. A loud groan left your mouth, and alongside it came spurts after spurts of your semen. Two shots landed onto Jinsol's ass, while the last three covered Yerim's vagina.

Yerim was the only one who had yet to reach her own peak. As the first person who noticed it, you grab onto Yerim's waist and plunge yourself deep into her slit while your cock is still hard. Under Jinsol's body who was calming down after her high, Yerim replied to your action with a deafening scream and continued to do so as you thrust deep into her womb.

"Fuuuuuuuck oppa! I'm cumming! I'm fucking cumming!"

The first thrust. Yerim's body shook violently. The second thrust. Her legs gave out. The final thrust. Yerim's eyes rolled back. The plugged hole was leaking out with Yerim's juices and eventually, squirting so hard that it pushed your cock out by itself. A series of pleasure cries left Yerim's lips, not caring how she's deafening Jinsol who was still on top of her.

You laid your back on the other side of the bathtub, gasping for air due to the lack of breath. Tonight's events were exhausting to the body, yet pleasuring at the same time. You then got out of the bathtub slowly and sat on the tile floor, close to the two girls who were basically cuddling each other, not caring how sweaty they were.

"You both okay?" you asked. Jinsol then gets off of Yerim and rests her arms by the edge of the bathtub, facing towards you. Putting her hand on your shoulder, she replied with a thumbs up.

"I'm fucking drained bro. Thanks for that." Jinsol said, and both of you giggled.

"T-Thanks oppa. It was amazing." Yerim said weakly.

"Can you get up?" you asked Yerim. Meanwhile, Jinsol was already out of the bathtub and finding her pile of clothes.

"No. I just wanna.. lay down here… just for a while…"

"Alright. I'll be here until you're okay."

"Okay, thanks oppa…" Yerim then drifts off to sleep almost instantly.

Both you and Jinsol smiled, looking at how cute Yerim was sleeping in the bathtub. Jinsol then left the toilet to sleep in her own room after wearing her clothes and wishing you a good night. You can't stand looking at poor Yerim sleeping uncomfortably inside the cold bathtub, so you carried her all the way to her own room and let her rest on her bed. After covering her with a blanket, you left the room silently.

"Nighty night, Yerim."

===========================================

note; thank you so much for the commission fellow anon! i spent waaaaay too long on this (seriously, it took almost a whole goddamn year 💀💀) so again, i would like to apologize for that. and because of that, i decided to make the fic a little longer than what they have requested as a lil bonus for the wait. oh, i also hopped onto the jav title trend with this but honestly, i think i failed LMAO

it was a rough process due to my hectic schedule, but i'm glad that i made it through. after all, this is my first commission so i'm still learning as i go through. i just really hope that you're satisfied with the end product as i have poured a lot of time and effort into writing this to make it worth your money. :)

talking about commissions, i will be opening them again soon once i'm ready so be sure to be on the lookout! as always, big thanks to my bros Byakko and @sinswithpleasure for the beta read help!

thank you for reading and have a good nu- i mean day! ♥

you're still here?

alright, come here, i'll fill you in on a lil secret.

ep 7 is petplay :)

#loona smut #artms smut #odd eye circle smut #choerry smut #jinsoul smut #loona #artms #odd eye circle #choerry #jinsoul #kpop smut #kpop fanfiction #reader insert #male reader #commission

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blitzsicedcoffee · 23 days ago

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#helluva boss #blitzø #helluva boss blitzo #blitz #stolitz #stolas #helluva boss stolas #helluva boss stolitz #helluva stolitz #loona #helluva boss loona #loona helluva boss #helluva boss fanfiction #helluva fanfiction

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chkn-soup · 9 months ago

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.PUDDLE.

—————————————————

Warnings: These little demons are too silly..silliness overboard (also some slight sexual innuendos/references)

Syno: Helluva cast and what they’d do if there was a puddle or wet spot infront of you while you were walking to your date…(this is so stupid..)

(Suffering with severe writers block rn but I managed to juice this out of me, bare with me yall!!)

—————————————

Moxxie:

Moxxie is a die hard gentleman, and I will stand by that. So he will totally be prepared for this occasion (like he was in the Loo Loo land episode with his little Fanny filled with meds for Via) He’d most likely whip out some sort of plastic or cardboard like walk way for you to step on..and he just like had that..on hand, meanwhile you’re saying things like…”I can just walk around it”, but please let him be cautious and spoil you, he loves being prepared for such drastic situations to get his partner away from danger..even if the danger is just getting your shoes wet. Afterwards he’ll ask if you are alright..as if walking over a puddle is traumatic or like it took a toll on you.

Blitzø:

Blitzø probably won’t care or even notice the puddle in the first place. In fact if he does notice it, he’ll purposely push you into it so your feet get all wet, especially if you’re trying to avoid it in the first place, then he’ll laugh at you and your pouty face. But if you’re actually upset about it and don’t start laughing with him he’ll definitely be like “What..you mad your shoes are wet?” Once he realizes you’re pretty pissed about it he’ll say “Ok ok..sorry.” And will then join you in the puddle and make sure his feet end up equally as soaked or even more so just so you aren’t mad at him the whole night.

Stolas:

Stolas will most definitely see the puddle and he’s all for keeping his partner out of harms way especially the smallest ounce of it, and he knows that appearance is everything and so is comfortability, he doesn’t want your feet to be wet and soppy therefore uncomfortable for you. So he’ll do the reasonable things and use his powers to make you float over it…like Stolas..really? He’s one that likes to one up, and he really loves to show off, especially to his partner. So he will use his magic for the smaller things just to impress you, that includes making you float over a puddle just so your precious feet stay dry and warm.

Fizzarolli:

Our little froggy will do what he does best and leap! You don’t think he’ll extend the both of you over a mere puddle then you are wrong, Fizz is the king of Drama, and he will be super dramatic about this whether you like it or not, He’ll extend the both of you over thoroughly and will look very badass while doing so. And he’ll even ask too “didn’t I look so cool.” Sure Fizzy, the coolest.

Asmodeus:

This big boy will not hesitate to pick you up into his arms, and he IS strong enough to do so, all while he walks into the puddle himself, but you know anything to make sure his sweetheart is alright, and no no, he won’t be setting you down afterwards, he’ll just carry you the whole way to the date just because he feels like it..and you know what you’re much safer up there with him anyways…so why would he let you down?

Striker:

This mf cowboy (“save a horse” iykwim) will not hesitate to pull some dramatics as well, he’ll whip out his little lasso from his side and wrap it around you throughly while he pulls you away from the puddle in the last moments before you even get the chance to step on it and he’ll draw you in to send you spinning (or more like falling) straight towards him and into his chest..he’ll hold you mighty close to him as he walks the both of you to your date and he will keep the lasso on you…just incase there’s anymore danger up ahead, or he’ll totally lay down his jacket for you over the puddle, just like an old school gentleman would do.

Mammon:

Mammon will definitely pull a Blitzø where he’ll purposely push you into it and will laugh at your reaction but on the other hand he won’t join you in your wet shoe’d state, he’d rather just laugh at you and say that you should audition for his pageant because watching you in dreadful situations is funny to him. He will be kind enough to dry your feet up at home/or even the restaurant, and he’ll make sure your feet are dry.

—girls—

Millie:

This precious lady will honestly want to get into the puddle with you just to splash around, it doesn’t matter that you have reservations that you’re already 20 minutes late for, she’ll dead stop and be like “Baby look a puddle!!” and you’ll understand her and begin to jump in it with her, she loves just doing childish things with you even if some people might find it gross. But! if you don’t like puddles and won’t jump in it with her she understands completely and will quite literally pick you up over her head and carry you over it…doesn’t matter if you are taller or bigger than her, she’ll carry you anytime, anywhere.

Loona:

She’s another one who will pull you into her closer so you aren’t near the puddle but instead near her. She doesn’t want your feet wet and will try to protect you or prevent you from going into it, just because she knows how annoying wet socks are, But don’t even try to mention she did it or she’ll go back/find another puddle to push you into….the shell feel bad and will lend you her socks..don’t mention that either.

Verosika:

Hehe..Verosika really loves you she does, and that’s why she has high expectations of you. One of them being that you’ll carry her through the puddle instead of her carrying you. So she’ll see the puddle, purposely get closer to it and pause when she’s a step away from it..she’ll look down roll her eyes and say something about her shoes,…take the hint [reader]! And if you do take the bait and carry her (if you can) well..she’ll give you Tenfold for treating her so nicely and will peck your cheek after..but don’t think you’re putting her down immediately after..the fun has just started.

Stella:

Hello..??? She’s royalty and is lowkey a little bratty (she need a brat tamer..I’m here for her😏) so she’ll obviously expect you to do something for her to get her out of this drastic situation, do you want her new heels to be ruined by mud? She doesn’t think so. So she’ll pause before the puddle and eye you to see what you’ll do, you can do anything and she’ll absolutely love it, pull her out of the way, lay your jacket on it, or even carry her and she will laugh and grin smugly, kissing you before continuing to walk with you again. She likes when you treat her nicely..she’ll do the same for you coming back that way at the end of the date.

——

Hello my loves! I’m trying to write your requests, thank you all for being patient and supportive I love you all and you deserve your asks to be answered, you beautiful people!!🫶🏼🫶🏼!!

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faebled-stories · 1 month ago

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Perfect Pitch

Kinkvember Day 28: Size Difference.

LOONA/Loossemble Im Yeojin x Male reader

13.6k words

AN: I did my best to get this out in time for you all! Finals are next week, and I’ve been stressing and studying like crazy😅. Hope you guys enjoy. 💖

PS: 2 More fics left.

Sunlight filters through the blinds in your kitchen, painting soft, golden streaks across the walls and counters. The warm light blends with the muted grays and creamy tones of the decor, giving the space a comforting glow. The air carries the rich aroma of pancakes sizzling on the stove, their edges crisping just right as the batter bubbles and pops. Outside, sparrows chirp in the distance, their song weaving into the quiet hum of morning.

In the doorway, Yeojin appears, shuffling in with a sleepy grace. She’s draped in one of your oversized shirts, the fabric hanging loosely around her, brushing her knees. The sleeves are far too long, barely revealing her fingertips as she rubs at her eyes. Her hair is an artful mess, strands falling into her face in a way that somehow makes her look effortlessly adorable. A soft yawn escapes her lips as her gaze sweeps over the scene, and when her eyes meet yours, a small, sleepy smile tugs at her mouth.

“Morning, slugger,” she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep as she pads toward the kitchen island.

You chuckle softly, flipping a pancake with practiced ease. “Morning, princess. Finally decided to join the land of the living?”

She groans, sliding onto a stool and propping her chin in her hand. “Barely. What time is it?”

“Early,” you reply, your tone teasing. “But I figured you’d want breakfast before I head out.”

Her gaze drifts toward the stove, watching the pancake batter sizzle as you pour another ladleful onto the skillet. “Smells amazing,” she says, her lips curving into a lazy grin. “You’re spoiling me.”

“Just doing my duty,” you reply smoothly, sliding a golden pancake onto the growing stack. You glance over your shoulder at her, catching the way she’s watching you—not just the pancakes, but you, with that fond, unguarded look that always catches you off guard.

Yeojin props herself up straighter, reaching for the syrup bottle. “You know,” she says, tilting the bottle with exaggerated precision, “you might be the only reason I eat breakfast at all.”

“Wow, no pressure,” you joke, setting the plate in front of her. “Guess that makes me essential.”

“Obviously,” she replies, rolling her eyes as she picks up her fork. She takes a bite, her eyes fluttering closed as she lets out a pleased hum. “Okay, yeah. Definitely spoiled.”

You smirk, leaning against the counter with your own plate. “It’s part of the package, princess. Breakfast, charm, the occasional rescue from top shelves. What more could you ask for?”

She shoots you a mock glare, though her grin betrays her. “First of all, I could totally reach the top shelf if I tried.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sure. With a stepladder.”

Laughing, she tosses a piece of pancake at you, which you dodge easily. “You’re the worst,” she mutters, though her giggles linger as she takes another bite. “And I don’t need you to remind me.”

“Just keeping you humble,” you tease, grabbing a bite of your own. The room falls into a comfortable quiet, the soft clink of silverware filling the space as you both eat.

After a moment, she glances up at you, resting her chin in her hand again. “You know,” she says softly, “you’re kind of unfair.”

You pause mid-bite, raising an eyebrow. “Unfair? How?”

She gestures at you vaguely with her fork. “This. All of it. Making pancakes, being charming, looking like that in the morning light—”

You laugh, setting your fork down. “Looking like what?”

“You know what I mean,” she mutters, cheeks flushing slightly. “It’s distracting.”

“Distracting?” you echo, leaning closer across the counter. “Is that a compliment?”

“Don’t push it,” she says quickly, though the blush spreading across her cheeks gives her away.

Grinning, you lean even closer, resting your elbows on the counter. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

Her eyes widen, and she grabs a napkin to hide her face. “Shut up,” she mumbles, though the laughter in her voice is unmistakable.

You chuckle, reaching across to gently tug the napkin away. “Hey, I’m just being honest.”

She narrows her eyes at you, but the corners of her mouth twitch upward. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” you reply easily, standing straight again. You glance at the clock, sighing as you grab your cap from the counter. “Alright, I’ve got to head to practice. Can’t keep the team waiting.”

Yeojin’s expression shifts slightly, a mix of playful and reluctant. “You’re leaving already?”

“Unfortunately,” you say, slipping the cap on. “Coach might actually kill me if I’m late again.”

Before you can make it to the door, though, Yeojin hops off her stool and darts toward you, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind. “Not so fast,” she says, her voice muffled against your back. “You’re not leaving without a proper goodbye.”

Laughing, you stop mid-step and turn, gently prying her arms loose. Before she can retreat, you scoop her up effortlessly, your hands finding their place beneath her thighs as her legs wrap snugly around your waist. She lets out a surprised laugh, her arms instinctively looping around your neck as you hold her close.

“Better?” you ask, tilting your head slightly, the corners of your mouth lifting into a teasing smile.

She pretends to think about it, her gaze narrowing playfully. “Hmm, almost,” she says, her lips quirking up as she leans in to rest her forehead against yours.

“Almost?” you echo, raising an eyebrow. Without waiting for her reply, you shift slightly and press a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. Her laughter fades as she melts into the kiss, her arms tightening around your neck as her fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt. When you finally pull back, your nose brushing hers, you murmur, “How about now?”

Her cheeks flush, and for a moment, she looks speechless. Then she tilts her head, her grin mischievous. “Nope. Not even close,” she says, though the laughter bubbling in her voice gives her away.

“Not even close?” you repeat, feigning disbelief. “I’m starting to think you’re just making excuses.”

“I might be,” she replies, her smile widening. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Instead of answering, you plant a series of quick, playful kisses across her cheeks, forehead, and the tip of her nose. She squeals between giggles, her fingers tightening their grip around your neck as she tries, and fails, to stifle her laughter.

“Okay, okay!” she gasps through her laughter, burying her face into your shoulder. “That’s enough—wait, no, one more.”

You chuckle, tipping her chin up with your thumb. This kiss is slower, deeper, a silent promise in the way your lips linger against hers. When you pull back, her eyes flutter open, her gaze soft and slightly hazy.

“There,” you murmur, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Now are you happy?”

Her voice is quieter this time, but no less teasing. “I don’t know. You might have to remind me again later.”

Laughing, you bounce her slightly in your arms. “You’re something else.”

“And you love it,” she counters, the confidence in her voice making you grin. Then, her expression softens, and she adds, “And I love you.”

The words settle between you, warm and familiar, but they still catch you off guard in the best way. Smiling, you press your forehead to hers. “I love you too.”

For a moment, neither of you moves, the quiet intimacy grounding you in the golden glow of the kitchen. Then, as if sensing the world creeping back in, she gives you a light shove. “Okay, you can go now. But don’t you forget—”

“Let me guess,” you interrupt, smirking as you finally set her down. “Good luck charm?”

“Exactly,” she says, grinning up at you as her feet touch the ground. “You’d be lost without me.”

“Lost, huh?” you tease, brushing another quick kiss against her temple. “Guess that means I’ll have to keep you close.”

She rolls her eyes, but the blush on her cheeks gives her away. “Get out of here before I change my mind about letting you go.”

As you grab your cap and head for the door, her voice stops you in your tracks. “Hey,” she calls out, a playful lilt in her tone, “don’t forget to come back in one piece… because, you know, I sort of love you.”

You pause in the doorway, turning back to meet her gaze. A soft smile spreads across your face, your eyes warm with affection. “I love you too,” you reply, your voice steady and full of meaning.

Her laughter follows you as you step outside, the sound lingering like the warmth of her touch and the memory of her kiss—a quiet reminder of everything waiting for you when you return.

-----

The way back to her dorm isn’t a quick one, she slips through the gates and into the stillness of the early morning. Her steps are light against the cool floor of the dim hallway, grateful for the quiet that greets her. Tugging at the hem of your shirt, she catches the faintest trace of you on the fabric: a warm blend of syrup, a hint of your cologne, and something uniquely yours. Your scent wraps around her like a whispered promise, bringing a secret smile to her lips, a reminder of your late-night talks, quiet laughter, and the comfortable silences that make her feel close to you, even when miles apart.

As she opens her door and takes a couple of quiet steps, her sneaky return comes to a sudden halt. Hyeju appears, leaning casually against the wall with her arms crossed, already wearing a smirk that tugs at one corner of her mouth. She raises an eyebrow, her eyes flickering from Yeojin’s face to the oversized shirt she’s wearing. “Well, well, well,” Hyeju drawls, her tone dripping with mockery. “Look who decided to come home.”

Yeojin freezes, her cheeks flushing instantly as warmth creeps up her face. It’s as though she’s been caught mid-crime—which, in a way, she has. Swallowing her nerves, she forces a breezy smile, willing herself to sound casual. “Good morning, Hyeju!” she chirps, her voice unnaturally bright. “You’re up early.”

Hyeju tilts her head, unimpressed. “You mean unlike someone who’s been out all night?” She counters smoothly. Her gaze flicks pointedly to the shirt Yeojin’s clutching at the hem of, and her smirk widens. “So… you wanna explain why you didn’t come back last night? Or should I just take a wild guess?”

Yeojin’s mind scrambles, her blush deepening as she struggles to come up with something halfway believable. “Oh! Uh… I… stayed at the dorm studio!” she blurts out, her voice pitching higher than she intended. “Yeah, you know how I get when I’m in the zone. Lost track of time and figured it was too late to come back.”

“Hmm,” Hyeju says, narrowing her eyes as she steps closer. “The studio, huh? That’s funny, because I don’t remember you taking anything with you to work on.” Her voice drips with mock innocence, but the amused sparkle in her eye gives her away.

Yeojin tugs nervously at the hem of your shirt, glancing down at it like it might provide some magical escape route. “Well, I wasn’t planning to stay all night,” she stammers, trying to salvage her excuse. “But… inspiration hit, you know? And then I, uh, borrowed this to… stay warm.”

“Stay warm,” Hyeju repeats, her lips twitching as though she’s fighting the urge to laugh. “You’re telling me that’s the shirt you grabbed to stay warm?” She gestures at the oversized fabric drowning Yeojin’s frame, clearly unconvinced. “Smells a little… off for studio work, don’t you think? Almost like syrup or… cologne.”

Caught, Yeojin groans softly, her hands flying up in surrender. “Okay, fine! I was out!” she confesses, her words rushing out as she glares half-heartedly at Hyeju. “Are you happy now?”

Hyeju finally lets out a laugh, shaking her head. “Relax, I’m not your manager,” she says with exaggerated patience. “But seriously, you might want to work on your excuses. ‘I was at the studio all night’ isn’t gonna fly if someone else asks.”

Yeojin sighs, her shoulders slumping as she nods sheepishly. “I know. I’ll be more careful.”

“Good,” Hyeju replies, stepping back to let Yeojin pass. “Just don’t make it a habit, alright? We wouldn’t want the others—or worse, the manager—getting suspicious.”

Yeojin mumbles a quick thanks before slipping into her room, shutting the door quietly behind her. Leaning against it, she lets out a long, breathy sigh, her heart still racing. Her cheeks tingle from the embarrassment of being caught, but there’s a thrill too—a tiny, giddy spark knowing she’d stolen away one last moment with you.

Glancing down at your shirt, she brushes her fingers over the fabric, her smile softening as a secret warmth blooms in her chest. Whatever it took to keep moments like this, she decided, would be worth it.

Later that day, the rehearsal studio buzzes with energy, each corner filled with chatter and laughter as the group warms up. Excitement simmers just below the surface, each member brimming with a mix of focus and joy, until the manager enters, his presence commanding the room’s attention. He claps his hands, breaking into a grin that instantly shifts the room’s energy.

“Ladies, I’ve got news,” he announces, his voice ringing out. “We’ve been invited to perform on opening night for the Kiwoom Heroes… in just four days!” He pauses, his enthusiasm lighting up the room as he continues, “It’s a big opportunity. Let’s make sure we’re in top form!”

The announcement sparks a ripple of excitement among the girls, a mix of gasps and whispered cheers filling the studio as everyone glances at each other in excitement. But for Yeojin, the reaction is different—her heart skips a beat as a surge of nerves and excitement washes over her. Performing on such a big night would be thrilling on its own, but knowing it’s your game, the same field where you’ll be standing, makes it feel that much more special. She tries to keep her expression calm, but inside, her thoughts swirl with anticipation at the chance to perform, knowing you’ll be there to watch.

Beside her, Gowon notices her excitement and nudges her with a sly smile. “Why do you look like you just won the lottery?” she whispers, her eyes dancing with curiosity.

Yeojin forces a casual shrug, desperately trying to keep her tone breezy. “I just… really like baseball,” she replies, hoping she sounds more relaxed than she feels. But her voice betrays a hint of giddiness that she can’t quite mask.

Hyeju stifles a laugh, her gaze twinkling with amusement. “Uh-huh. You like baseball, sure,” she echoes, filling the words with teasing sarcasm.

A blush creeps back into Yeojin’s cheeks as she fiddles with her hair, smiling despite herself at her friends’ knowing looks. Their playful laughter only adds to the thrill of the moment, grounding her in the comfort of their shared camaraderie.

As the rehearsal begins, Yeojin slips into a quiet daydream, her mind drifting toward the image of the stadium on opening night. She pictures the floodlights, the crowd buzzing with excitement, the electric energy pulsing through the field. She imagines catching sight of you in the stands, your familiar smile lighting up as you recognize her among the dancers. Each move she rehearses feels charged with a secret purpose, a quiet hope that you’ll see her there, knowing that her performance is, in some small way, meant for you.

-----

Back at your place, the scent of takeout fills the air as you and Yeojin unpack the bags at the kitchen counter. The crinkle of paper bags and the soft clink of utensils blend with the quiet hum of the room, creating a cozy atmosphere. Yeojin, perched on one of the stools, peers into one of the containers with curiosity, a faint smile playing on her lips.

“You didn’t forget my favorite, right?” she asks, her tone playful as she sets her chopsticks in place.

“I wouldn’t dare,” you reply with a grin, handing her a container. “See? I’ve got you covered.”

Her face lights up as she pops it open, the familiar aroma making her sigh happily. “You’re the best,” she says, taking a bite and humming in satisfaction. “Mm, this is perfect.”

You settle into the stool next to her, digging into your own food. The easy rhythm of eating together fills the space, the kind of quiet intimacy that makes even simple moments like this feel special.

After a few bites, Yeojin glances over at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So,” she begins, her voice playful, “I heard you got the whole story about my water bottle fiasco.”

You smirk, glancing sideways at her. “Oh, I did. Something about turning it into a dramatic fall? Ten out of ten for creativity, by the way.”

She groans, hiding her face in her hands. “Ugh, it was so embarrassing. The girls have been teasing me non-stop.”

You laugh, nudging her lightly with your elbow. “Come on, you’re graceful enough to pull it off.”

“Oh, absolutely,” she replies, lowering her hands and giving you an exaggerated shrug. “I was the picture of elegance. Definitely not face-planting in front of everyone.”

“Right, right,” you tease, taking another bite. “Maybe you should add it to your choreography. Could be the next big thing.”

She tosses a crumpled napkin at you, her laughter spilling out despite herself. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, here you are,” you retort, grinning as you dodge the napkin.

The playful banter continues as you finish your food, Yeojin leaning closer with each laugh, her joy infectious. Once the containers are cleared and the counter is wiped down, she hops off her stool and stretches, a satisfied sigh escaping her lips.

After dinner, the two of you settle onto the couch, a cozy silence enveloping the room. Yeojin tucks her legs under her, leaning lightly against your side as she holds the tub of ice cream in one hand and a spoon in the other. The faint glow of the lamp casts a warm light over the room, reflecting softly off her flushed cheeks.

You nudge her playfully with your elbow, your own spoon in hand. “You’re hogging it,” you tease, nodding toward the ice cream.

“Excuse me?” she says, feigning offense as she takes an exaggerated bite. “I’m pretty sure I earned this for being adorable during dinner.”

You laugh, leaning closer to swipe a small spoonful from the tub before she can protest. “Adorable, huh? I guess I’ll allow it.”

Her giggle is soft as she settles back into your side, the easy rhythm of sharing the ice cream between you making the moment feel effortlessly intimate. She hums contentedly, her head resting lightly on your shoulder as she savors another bite.

After a moment, she shifts slightly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “So,” she begins, her tone playful, “we’re performing at the opening of your game next week.”

Your eyebrows lift in surprise, and you glance down at her. “Wait, seriously? That’s amazing!” A genuine grin spreads across your face. “I’ll finally get to see you perform live?”

“Yep,” she says, nodding eagerly. “Right there on the field before the game starts. No pressure for you or anything.”

“None at all,” you reply with a chuckle. “Just a stadium full of people, bright lights, and a surprise performance from my girlfriend. Totally low-key.”

She rolls her eyes, lightly swatting your arm. “Anyway,” she says, her voice dropping into a mischievous tone, “I was thinking… maybe I could wear one of your jerseys during the performance.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. “One of my jerseys? Don’t you guys usually have custom outfits for this kind of thing?”

She shrugs, taking another bite of ice cream before replying. “Custom outfits are boring. Your jersey would look way cooler.”

You laugh, watching as she fidgets with the hem of her shirt, her wide eyes glancing up at you in mock pleading. “Come on,” she says, drawing the word out. “Isn’t it a rule for girlfriends to wear their boyfriends’ jerseys? I’m pretty sure it’s, like, a law or something.”

“Oh, it’s a law now?” you tease, grinning as you take another bite. “What chapter is that in your imaginary handbook?”

“Chapter one,” she says with mock seriousness, nodding sagely. “Rule one. ‘Thou shalt support thy boyfriend by wearing his jersey.’ It’s common knowledge.”

You shake your head, amused. “And what chapter says, ‘Thou shalt not get thy boyfriend in trouble with the entire stadium’?”

She groans dramatically, flopping back against the couch as she tosses the spoon into the empty tub. “Come on! Please? It would look so good! And if anyone asks, I’ll just say you’re my favorite player.”

You can’t help but laugh, her enthusiasm impossible to resist. “Fine, fine,” you say, setting the empty tub aside and standing. “But if this backfires, it’s all on you.”

She perks up immediately, her smile wide and victorious as you disappear into your room. When you return, you hold out an older jersey, the fabric soft and a little worn. “Here,” you say, handing it to her. “It’s from my rookie year. It’s not fancy, but it’s got some history.”

Her eyes light up as she takes it, her fingers brushing over the fabric. “Rookie year?” she murmurs, slipping it on. The oversized jersey swallows her petite frame, the sleeves hanging far past her hands and the hem brushing her thighs. She stands and gives you a playful twirl. “How do I look?”

“Like someone who’s about to start rumors,” you tease, stepping closer to adjust the hem slightly. “But also… absolutely adorable.”

Her grin widens, her hands fiddling with the oversized sleeves. “See? I told you it was a good idea.”

Then, as if struck by inspiration, she looks up at you with a glint in her eye. “Wait! You know what would make this even better?”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “What now?”

“Sign it,” she says, her voice bubbling with excitement as she tugs the fabric taut against her chest. Her hand rests lightly over her heart. “Right here. My friends will be so jealous.”

You shake your head in amused disbelief, grabbing a marker from the drawer. “Alright, but if you get in trouble, don’t come crying to me.” You step closer, steadying the fabric where her hand holds it over her heart.

She watches you intently, her smile softening as you lean in. The tip of the marker touches the fabric just above the number, and your name flows neatly, each letter deliberate. Your fingers brush against hers as you finish, the moment quiet but full of meaning.

When you pull back, she gazes down at the jersey, her fingers tracing the letters. A faint blush rises to her cheeks as her lips curve into a tender smile. “Now it’s perfect,” she whispers, looking up at you, her eyes glowing with happiness.

You smile, your hand resting lightly over the spot you just signed. “You’re impossible,” you murmur.

“And you love it,” she replies, her voice playful but filled with affection.

“Yeah,” you admit softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I really do.” You lean in to press a gentle kiss to her temple, the warmth of the moment settling around you both like a blanket.

------

The dressing room buzzes with excitement as Loossemble prepares for the event. Makeup brushes glide across faces, chatter fills the air, and their manager hands out jerseys. “These are for today’s event,” he announces, placing the neatly folded jerseys on the table.

As the girls eagerly grab theirs, Yeojin lingers by her bag, her hand already slipping inside. When the manager notices, he raises an eyebrow. “Yeojin, where’s your jersey?”

She pulls out the jersey you gave her, its fabric worn but comforting, and slips it on over her outfit. “I’ve got my own,” she says casually, smoothing it down.

The room quiets briefly as everyone notices the bold signature scrawled across the chest. Hyeju squints at it, her tone incredulous. “Wait... is that an actual jersey? Like the ones they wear on the field?”

Yeojin shrugs nonchalantly, adjusting the oversized sleeves. “It’s better than the custom ones,” she says simply, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Hyunjin’s jaw drops. “And it’s signed! Where the heck did you even get that?”

Yeojin gives a knowing smile, her voice calm but playful. “I know someone.”

The room erupts into laughter and teasing. Gowon shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re seriously wearing that? People are going to notice, you know.”

Yeojin smirks, smoothing the fabric with a deliberate motion. “Good. Let them.”

The manager sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just don’t make my life harder, alright?” he mutters, waving them toward the door.

At the stadium, the energy is electric. Fans in team colors flood the concourse, their excited chatter blending with the hum of announcements and the faint thrum of music. The smell of popcorn, grilled food, and sweet treats wafts through the air, adding to the festive atmosphere.

As Loossemble weaves through the bustling crowd, Yeojin suddenly stops in her tracks. Her gaze is drawn to a massive display near the merch shop, and for a moment, she forgets everything else. Your face dominates the wall, frozen mid-pitch, your arm extended in a perfect arc. The intensity and focus in your expression make the image feel almost alive, radiating the determination that’s become synonymous with you.

Around the display, racks of merchandise stretch in every direction—jerseys, caps, posters, and even bobbleheads bearing your name and number. Fans gather eagerly, their voices rising in an excited hum as they sort through the shelves. Yeojin catches fragments of their chatter: your incredible game-winning plays, your record-breaking stats, the way you’ve become the cornerstone of the team’s success. Each word feels like a glowing tribute to you, a celebration of everything you’ve achieved.

Her chest tightens, a surge of pride swelling within her as her fingers brush over the jersey she wears. The fabric is soft and worn, a personal gift that feels more precious now than ever. Her gaze drops briefly to the bold signature resting over her heart, and the simple gesture of your autograph feels profoundly intimate—a reminder of the part of you that belongs only to her.

She’s always known you were talented, but this moment reframes everything. Seeing the sheer scale of admiration for you, the fans clamoring for a piece of the legend you’ve become, is overwhelming. It takes her breath away. The magnitude of what you’ve accomplished hits her fully—how much you’ve given, how hard you’ve worked, and how many people you inspire.

And yet, through all of it, you’ve never stopped making her feel like she’s the center of your world. Whether it’s through the quiet warmth of your smile, a shared joke that only you two understand, or the way your hand naturally finds hers in a crowd, she knows she’s your constant.

Her fingers linger on the jersey’s fabric as she takes it all in. The massive display with your image mid-pitch, larger than life, radiates the determination and intensity that define you. Her heart swells with something deeper than pride—an awe at the balance you manage. With so much of the world demanding a piece of you, you’ve never let her feel less than cherished.

“Wow,” she whispers to herself, her voice barely audible over the chatter around her. Her lips curve into a soft smile as she glances back at the display. There’s no envy in her chest, no insecurity—only gratitude. Gratitude for being the person who gets to witness the side of you that no one else does. She’s the one who sees you at your most vulnerable, your most relaxed, and your most real, and in this moment, that feels like the greatest gift of all.

Now, near the front of the field, they wait for their cue, the girls chatting excitedly about the size of the stadium and the energy of the fans. Yeojin adjusts the hem of your jersey, trying to keep calm despite her racing heart.

But her focus wavers when she catches sight of you warming up nearby with your team. You’re effortlessly precise as you go through your routine, each movement fluid and confident. She can’t help the small smile that tugs at her lips as she watches you work—it’s captivating, even from a distance.

Her smile falters, though, when she notices a group of cheerleaders standing just a little too close for comfort. One of them giggles loudly, her gaze fixed on you as she leans in to whisper to her friend. Another brushes her hair back dramatically, giving you a wave that’s anything but subtle. Yeojin’s chest tightens, the pang of jealousy catching her off guard. She knows she has no reason to feel this way, but seeing the way they look at you—the admiration tinged with something more—makes her jaw tighten.

She shifts her weight, crossing her arms as she tries to push the feeling aside. He’s yours, she reminds herself, the memory of your signature on her jersey grounding her. The thought brings a small, determined smile back to her face. Let them look. I’m the one who gets to go home with him.

“Yeojin, what’s got you so serious all of a sudden?” Hyeju teases, nudging her shoulder with a smirk.

Startled, Yeojin shakes her head quickly, forcing a bright smile. “Huh? Just, uh… getting into the zone,” she replies, though her voice carries a hint of flustered nervousness.

Hyeju raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press further, her attention shifting as their manager calls them toward the field.

The stadium’s energy pulses underfoot as the intro notes of their song begins. Thousands of fans pack the stands, their cheers rising in a wave that reverberates through the air. Yeojin takes a deep breath, letting the rhythm of the music settle her nerves. As she steps onto the field with her group mates, the floodlights wash over them, illuminating the entire stadium.

Her eyes instinctively search for you, when she spots you near the dugout, her heart swells. Even from a distance, the pride in your smile is unmistakable, and the way you’re watching her fills her with warmth. It’s a sight that lights something fierce in her chest, a reminder of why she’s here—not just to perform, but to share this moment with you.

Each beat of the choreography feels stronger, every step infused with purpose. The girl’s move in perfect synchronization, their sharp poses and fluid transitions blending seamlessly with the music. Yeojin pours herself into the performance, her smile radiant as she twirls across the field. She can feel the joy of the moment in her bones, every movement carrying a silent message: I’m here, and this is for you.

In the dugout, your teammates notice the way you’re glued to watching her performance. One of them nudges you with a laugh. “Look at you, totally lovestruck,” he teases, jerking his thumb toward the jumbotron. “Come on, Romeo, close your mouth before a fly gets in.”

A flush rises to your cheeks as they rib you mercilessly, but you don’t look away. You can’t. Yeojin’s every move captivates you, as if you’re seeing her dance for the first time. Despite the teasing, all you feel is pride—she’s radiant, every bit the star you know her to be.

Meanwhile, Yeojin catches sight of you on the jumbotron, your flustered expression displayed for all to see. She bites back a laugh, her heart soaring at the exact reaction she’d hoped for. It’s a private moment made public, and the thrill of it fills her with pride. She flicks her gaze toward the screen whenever she can, smiling wider each time she sees you still watching her, your admiration written all over your face.

As the performance builds to its final chorus, Yeojin locks eyes with you for a brief moment. She winks, the gesture small but unmistakable, before finishing the dance with her group, arms raised as the last note rings out.

The stadium erupts into applause, the cheers washing over her like a wave. As Loossemble catches their breath, Yeojin’s heart swells. She can still feel the way her gaze connected with yours, the bond between you two threading itself into every step she took, every smile she shared with the crowd.

When the performance ends, Loossemble exits the field, their faces glowing with post-performance adrenaline. The group gathers near their seats, collapsing into laughter and excited chatter as they relive their favorite moments. Yeojin adjusts the hem of your jersey again, the warmth of your signature over her heart grounding her as the thrill of performing in front of you still buzzes in her chest.

But her friends don’t let her stay quiet for long.

“Yeojin,” Gowon begins, leaning in with a sly grin, her eyes glinting with curiosity, “did you see it?”

“See what?” Yeojin asks innocently, though the flutter in her chest betrays her calm tone.

“That pitcher,” Gowon replies, gesturing towards your area. “You know, the one whose face was glued to you.”

Yeojin freezes, trying to play it cool. “Oh, really?” she replies, her voice just a little too breezy. “I didn’t notice.”

Hyeju snorts, crossing her arms with a smirk. “You didn’t notice? He looked like he’d forgotten how to breathe. Seriously, Yeojin, the guy clearly has a favorite.”

“He was so obvious!” ViVi chimes in, leaning forward. “And did you see his teammates? They were dying. I swear, if you’d winked at him, he might’ve fainted.”

Yeojin laughs nervously, brushing her hair behind her ear. “He was probably just… impressed with our choreography,” she says, avoiding their knowing looks.

“Oh, sure,” Hyeju replies, rolling her eyes. “Because choreography is what had him staring like that. Not your sparkling personality or, I don’t know, the fact that you’re gorgeous or anything.”

ViVi nudges her, a playful grin spreading across her face. “You should totally go for him, Yeojin. He’s cute—and clearly into you.”

“Very into you,” Gowon agrees, her voice teasing but sincere. “I mean, the man couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d held up a sign that said, ‘Marry me.’”

Yeojin’s cheeks burn, and she quickly busies herself with adjusting her water bottle. “You’re all being ridiculous,” she mutters, though she can’t hide the tiny smile tugging at her lips.

“Ridiculous?” ViVi counters. “It’s the perfect opportunity! A cute baseball player, clearly smitten, and you, Miss Limited Edition Signed Jersey over here? It’s fate.”

Yeojin groans, hiding her face behind her hands as the girls burst into laughter around her. “You guys are the worst,” she mumbles, though her voice carries a warmth she can’t quite suppress.

“You love us,” Hyeju says with a grin, leaning back. “But seriously, if you don’t at least say hi to him before we leave, I’m taking matters into my own hands.”

Yeojin shoots her a wide-eyed look. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I absolutely would,” Hyeju replies, her smirk growing.

Before Yeojin can respond, the stadium erupts into cheers for the start of the game, giving her the perfect excuse to shift her focus. She sits back, her heart still racing as she sneaks a glance toward the field. When your eyes meet hers across the distance, your proud smile makes her breath catch, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

-----

The stadium is thick with tension—it’s the bottom of the ninth, and your team is clinging to a one-run lead. The electric energy of the crowd feels almost tangible, each cheer and murmur blending into a symphony of anticipation. Yeojin sits on the edge of her seat, her heart pounding as she watches you take the mound. She’s seen you pitch countless times before, but tonight feels different. The determined intensity in your expression, the way you square your shoulders before gripping the ball—it all sends a quiet thrill through her chest.

Her hands clasp tightly together as you take your stance, the ball snug in your glove. The batter steps into the box, and the crowd’s roar crescendos, the pitch count hovering on a razor’s edge. Yeojin’s gaze never leaves you, her chest tightening with each passing second. She watches as you grip the ball, your fingers settling into the seams with practiced precision. The tension is palpable as you wind up, your form a perfect blend of power and control.

Then, it happens.

The ball leaves your hand with a smooth snap, cutting through the air like a bullet. For a brief moment, everything feels suspended, the stadium holding its collective breath as the ball rockets toward the plate. The batter swings. The crack of impact reverberates like a gunshot, and Yeojin’s heart stutters.

A blur of motion. The ball hurtles straight back toward the mound—a split second, no time to think. Your glove snaps up instinctively, the sharp thwack of impact cutting through the noise. The ball deflects away from your head, careening off to the side, but the force staggers you. Your knees hit the dirt, and you slump forward slightly, visibly shaken.

The crowd collectively gasps, the electric energy of the game giving way to a wave of tense murmurs. Yeojin’s breath catches, her chest tightening as she watches you press a hand to your head, your face taut with discomfort. You wave off the trainer jogging toward you, trying to shake it off, but you don’t immediately rise. That’s all it takes for panic to flood her chest. Her fingers tightened around her jersey as her heart pounded as she willed you to stand.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, her voice trembling. Without thinking, she bolts from her seat, ignoring her friends’ surprised calls as she hurries down the stadium steps. Her pulse races with each step, her gaze locked on the bullpen entrance where she knows you’ll be taken.

Yeojin weaves through the throngs of concerned fans until she reaches the edge of the restricted area. A security guard steps forward, shaking his head firmly. “Sorry, miss. You can’t go past this point.”

“Please,” she says urgently, glancing past him toward the dugout. “I just need to see if he’s okay.”

The guard hesitates but doesn’t budge. Desperate, Yeojin moves to the side, craning her neck for any angle that might give her a glimpse of you. Her hands grip the railing tightly, her heart pounding as she finally spots you on the bench. From her vantage point, she can only see part of your profile, but it’s enough to confirm you’re upright, talking to the trainer.

She holds her breath, willing herself not to cry as the tension in her chest lingers. Then, as if sensing her, you glance over your shoulder. Your eyes meet hers, and though your movements are still slow and careful, the small smile you flash her is steady and reassuring. You lift your hand slightly in a subtle wave, a silent message: I’m okay.

Yeojin exhales shakily, her hands loosening their grip on the railing as relief floods her. For a moment, she lingers, her lips curving into a tentative smile in response. Then, with one last glance at you, she turns and heads back toward her seat.

By the time she climbs the steps back to her section, her friends are watching her with curious expressions. “What was that about?” Gowon asks, leaning closer.

Yeojin shrugs, brushing her hair behind her ear as she sits. “I just… wanted to check on him,” she says, keeping her tone casual despite the lingering adrenaline in her veins.

ViVi tilts her head, her lips twitching with a smile. “You’re really invested in this game, huh?”

“Well, he’s their best player,” Yeojin replies, adjusting the hem of your jersey. “Someone has to cheer for him.”

Her friends exchange amused glances but don’t push further, turning their attention back to the game. As the action resumes, Yeojin steals one more glance toward the bullpen. You’re still seated but looking steady now, chatting with the trainer. Relief washes over her as she sees you lean forward, your shoulders squared with resolve, ready to get back in the game.

The tension builds as the final moments unfold, every pitch and swing keeping the crowd on edge. Yeojin clutches at your jersey, her fingers brushing over the warmth of your signature as the last out is made, sealing the win for your team. The stadium erupts into cheers, the roar deafening as your teammates rush the field to celebrate. Her heart swells with pride, the earlier fear eclipsed entirely by admiration for your unwavering strength.

As the stadium begins to empty, Yeojin practically drags her friends down toward the field, her excitement bubbling over as she skips ahead. Her friends trail behind, exchanging confused but curious glances at her sudden burst of enthusiasm.

“Where are you going?” Gowon calls after her, struggling to keep up.

“Just come on!” Yeojin replies, glancing over her shoulder with a wide grin. Her pulse quickens as she spots you waiting in the dugout, scanning the thinning crowd until your gaze lands on her.

The moment your eyes meet, a bright smile spreads across your face, and without hesitation, Yeojin takes off across the field. Her friends stop in their tracks, staring as she runs straight to you, leaping into your arms with a joyful squeal. You catch her effortlessly, lifting her as if she weighs nothing, holding her close as she plants a quick, happy kiss on your cheek.

The group stands frozen, their eyes wide as they process what they’re seeing.

“Wait… did she just…” Gowon begins, her voice trailing off.

“Did she just run up and kiss him?” Hyeju whispers, glancing between you and Yeojin as if trying to confirm she’s not imagining things.

Their confusion grows as you set Yeojin gently back on the ground, your arm staying casually draped over her shoulder. Her cheeks are flushed, but she’s grinning ear to ear, clearly unfazed by the scene she’s caused.

With a soft chuckle, you greet her friends, your easy smile and warm demeanor making their stunned expressions all the more amusing. Finally, Gowon snaps out of it, blinking rapidly before giving Yeojin a teasing smirk.

“Okay, not to be dramatic,” she says, motioning toward you, “but… what the actual fuck?”

The rest of the group bursts into laughter, ViVi adding, “Seriously, Yeo-jin, care to explain how this happened?”

Yeojin fidgets slightly, her blush deepening as she looks between you and her friends. “What do you mean?” she asks, playing innocent. “He’s… just my boyfriend.”

“Just?” Gowon repeats, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Are you serious right now? You’ve been holding out on us! You could’ve mentioned you were dating a literal star player!”

“Speaking of which,” ViVi cuts in, her eyes widening as she looks up at you, “how tall are you, exactly?”

“198,” you reply with a grin, clearly amused by their reactions.

They all turn to Yeojin, who crosses her arms with a mock huff. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m short. You’ve all said it before,” she says, though her proud smile betrays her.

“You’re not just short,” Hyeju teases, nudging her shoulder. “Next to him, you’re basically pocket-sized. It’s kind of adorable.”

Yeojin groans, rolling her eyes. “Thanks for the reminder.”

Hyunjin steps closer, her curiosity lighting up her expression. “So…” she begins, hesitating for a moment. “Would it be weird if we, uh, tested something?”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Hmm?”

She motions toward your arms. “I’ve always wanted to try hanging off someone super strong. You look like you could handle it.”

Yeojin shoots her a look, but you laugh, glancing at your girlfriend for permission. She sighs, muttering, “Fine, but don’t break him.”

With a grin, you extend your arms, and Hyunjin and ViVi eagerly grab on, giggling as they dangle from you like children on a jungle gym. You lift them effortlessly, even spinning slightly for effect, earning cheers and laughter from the rest of the group.

“Whoa… He’s actually doing it,” Hyeju says, her tone full of admiration. “You’ve got some serious strength.”

Yeojin, however, watches with narrowed eyes, her smile fading slightly. Finally, she steps forward, hands on her hips. “Alright, that’s enough,” she says, her voice firm but playful. “Let him go.”

The girls reluctantly release your arms, laughing as they exchange amused glances. But before you can lower them fully, Yeojin leaps up, wrapping herself around you with a little huff. She locks her legs around your waist, grinning triumphantly as she turns to her friends. “This is my spot,” she declares, sticking out her tongue.

The group dissolves into laughter, though their teasing glances don’t go unnoticed. “Possessive much?” Gowon quips, shaking her head with a smirk.

You chuckle, leaning down to murmur softly in Yeojin’s ear, “Didn’t know you got jealous so easily.”

Yeojin pouts, looking up at you with a small smile. “Can’t help it,” she whispers back. “You’re mine.”

The group exchanges whispered comments, their curiosity and amusement clear. But Yeojin doesn’t care. As you hold her close, the warmth of your embrace and the quiet pride in her heart remind her that no amount of teasing could take away what you two share.

-----

As the door clicks shut behind you, Yeojin spins around with a playful glint in her eyes, arms folded in mock defiance. Her cheeks are still flushed from the night’s excitement, but there’s something else now—a spark of mischief that makes her gaze dance in the dim light.

“You know,” she begins, taking a slow step closer, her voice teasing, “you owe me for making me jealous tonight.”

Leaning back against the door, you raise an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Oh, do I?” you ask, your tone light but edged with challenge.

She nods, feigning seriousness, though the smile pulling at her lips betrays her amusement. “Letting those girls hang all over you like that… What was that about?” Her hands go to her hips as she tilts her head, her mock indignation only making her look more endearing.

You chuckle, leaning forward just enough to bring your face level with hers. “If I remember right, you gave me permission, and…” you murmur, your voice dropping slightly, “you were the one climbing me like a tree afterward. I think you made your point pretty clear.”

Yeojin bites her lip, the blush on her cheeks deepening, but she doesn’t back down. Instead, she loops her arms around your neck, her smile turning sly. “I’m not so sure,” she replies, her tone soft but teasing. “You might have to work a little harder to make it up to me.”

You slide your hands around her waist, pulling her closer until the space between you is nonexistent. “Alright,” you say, your voice a low murmur, “I’ll bite. How exactly am I supposed to make it up to you, hmm?”

Yeojin hums thoughtfully, as if considering her options, before gently nudging you toward the couch. Her hands stay light on your chest as she guides you, her steps deliberate yet playful. Once you’re seated, she settles onto your lap, her small frame fitting perfectly into your arms. The soft weight of her against you sends a warmth coursing through your chest as her hands slide up to rest lightly on your shoulders.

“For starters,” she whispers, leaning in close, her lips hovering just shy of yours, “you could promise I’m the only one who gets to cling to you like that.”

Her breath brushes your skin, teasing as her words hang in the air. You meet her gaze, a flicker of amusement in your eyes. “Done,” you whisper back, your voice soft but sure. And then, without hesitation, you close the space, capturing her lips in a kiss that starts slow and sweet, her warmth melting into you. It’s the kind of kiss that makes the rest of the world disappear, leaving only the quiet intensity between you.

As her fingers trail lightly along your chest, Yeojin pulls back just enough to speak, her voice barely above a murmur. “And you can start by spoiling me a little more,” she teases, her playful tone returning as her fingers toy with the fabric of your shirt.

Your low chuckle vibrates against her, and you tilt your head slightly, your thumb grazing her cheek. “You don’t even have to ask, princess,” you reply, your words carrying a weight that lingers between you.

The air shifts, the laughter between you fading into something quieter, warmer. Yeojin’s breath hitches as she looks up at you, her eyes searching yours for a moment before her hands find their way to your shirt. Slowly, her fingertips trace along your chest before she lifts the fabric, pulling it up and over your shoulders with deliberate grace, her movements unhurried as if savoring the moment.

Your hand slides to her waist, steadying her as you guide her closer, your fingers slipping beneath the hem of her shirt. Her breath catches as your touch skims bare skin, her body reacting instinctively to your warmth. You take your time, letting the fabric rise slowly, your gaze locked on hers, the air between you thick with anticipation. When her shirt finally falls to the floor, she exhales softly, her blush deepening as she feels your hands settle on her sides, grounding her.

Yeojin’s hands find their way to your belt, her touch sure but deliberate as her eyes flick up to yours, silently asking permission. You nod, your smirk softening into something more intimate, and she works the buckle loose before tugging the fabric free. You follow her lead, your fingers trailing down to the waistband of her jeans. Her breathing quickens as you unfasten the button, your movements steady as you guide them down, leaving them to pool at her feet.

When you straighten, your hands find the curve of her hips, your touch firm but reverent as her own hands lift to your waist, slipping beneath the edge of your pants to push them down with a gentle insistence. As the last of the fabric falls away, the space between you seems to hum, the night’s earlier excitement replaced by a quiet, electric intensity.

The room feels smaller now, the air charged as you take each other in—skin to skin, your gazes holding steady. Yeojin leans into you, her arms wrapping around your shoulders as her lips find yours, the kiss deep and unhurried, a promise that lingers between you. The warmth of her body against yours ignites something that words can’t capture, leaving the rest of the night open, unwritten, and entirely yours.

Without a word, you lean down, your arms securing her tightly as you lift her effortlessly, her body fitting snugly against your chest. Yeojin gasps softly, her legs instinctively wrapping around your waist, her arms clinging to your shoulders as she feels the full strength of your hold. The contrast between your broad, solid frame and her smaller stature sends a shiver of exhilaration through her—she feels weightless in your grasp, as if gravity itself bends to your will.

Her heart races as your hands shift, gripping her thighs firmly. In one smooth, fluid motion, you flip and lower her upside down, her thighs draping over your powerful shoulders. Her body hangs securely, her soft skin brushing against your neck while your steady grip keeps her firmly in place. The sheer size of you against her height makes her feel both delicate and cherished, a thrill sparking through her as she adjusts to the new position.

Suspended in your grasp, Yeojin’s breath catches as her lips find the warmth of your skin. The firmness of your muscles under her mouth sends a pulse of excitement through her, and she can’t help but press soft kisses there, each touch drawing a sharp, appreciative inhale from you. Her hands steady themselves against your hips, her small fingers gripping the solid expanse of your body for balance.

As you lean forward, your mouth finds her with an unrestrained hunger that takes her breath away. The first touch of your tongue sends a bolt of pleasure straight through her, and she trembles, her body instinctively pressing closer to you. Each movement of your tongue feels electric, worshiping her with a precision that makes her toes curl.

The smoothness of your skin against her inner thighs complements the warmth and wetness of your mouth, the sensations blending into an intoxicating mix that leaves her gasping. Her body trembles, her thighs pressing against your neck as her hips buck involuntarily in response to your ministrations. You grip her thighs tighter, spreading her open as you delve deeper, your tongue moving with insatiable fervor. Each stroke pulls a new, breathy cry from her lips, her whimpers of pleasure filling the room, echoing with the raw intimacy shared between you.

At the same time, Yeojin’s lips part around your length, taking you eagerly into her mouth. The sheer weight of you, the fullness stretching her jaw, makes her thighs quiver as she works to please you. Her tongue moves eagerly, tracing every ridge and vein as her lips slide along your shaft. The salty taste of precum teases her, a reminder of the effect she has on you, fueling her determination to take you deeper.

But as your tongue finds that sensitive spot within her, her resolve falters. A sharp moan escapes her lips, vibrating around you as her hips grind instinctively against your face. She fights to refocus, her cheeks hollowing as she takes you in again, but the sensations you’re drawing from her are relentless. Your tongue presses into her with precision, and her breath catches as you graze her most sensitive spot. Her movements falter, her concentration breaking as she’s overwhelmed by pleasure.

When your length brushes the back of her throat, her body jolts, her gasp muffled against you. The stretch leaves her momentarily breathless, her fingers tightening on your hips as she tries to keep pace. “Oh—” she tries to gasp, but the sounds dissolve into helpless moans, each vibration against you spurring you on. Her attempts to regain control falter again as your tongue moves deeper, coaxing another cry from her lips.

The slick, rhythmic sounds of your connection fill the room, blending with her muffled moans and your low, guttural groans. Her arousal drips onto your skin, her body trembling uncontrollably as her pleasure builds. “God, you’re amazing,” you murmur against her, your voice thick with sincerity. Your hands flex against her thighs, your grip firm and possessive as you hold her steady, your tongue stroking deeper and more deliberately.

Yeojin’s cries grow desperate as her body tightens around you, her legs trembling against your shoulders. The tension in her core builds steadily, each flick of your tongue pushing her closer to the edge. Her breath catches in sharp gasps, her body quaking with anticipation. She clutches at your hips for stability, but her movements grow erratic as she loses herself in the sensations.

When your fingers dig into her soft thighs, anchoring her even closer, the tension snaps. “Ahh—oh my god!” she screams, her voice trembling as her climax hits her with breathtaking force. Her entire body stiffens, her walls spasming uncontrollably as waves of pleasure crash through her. You hold her tightly, your grip unyielding as you press her against you, your tongue working her through every pulse of her release.

Her hips buck against your face, her cries echoing in the room as her orgasm overtakes her completely. She clings to your hips for dear life, her hands shaking as her body surrenders to the intensity. “I can’t… oh my god, I can’t,” she whimpers, the words tumbling out as the aftershocks ripple through her. Each tremor leaves her breathless, her thighs quivering as you continue your unrelenting ministrations.

Finally, her body goes limp in your grasp, her head falling forward as she struggles to catch her breath. You shift slightly, adjusting your hold to keep her steady, your touch gentle but still possessive. Her soft whimpers fill the quiet, her entire being humming with the aftermath of her release.

When she finally lifts her head, her cheeks are flushed, her mascara streaked slightly, but her smile is radiant. “You’re unbelievable,” she whispers, her voice trembling with exhaustion and satisfaction.

You chuckle softly, pressing a lingering kiss to her thigh. “That’s just the beginning,” you murmur, the promise in your tone making her shiver anew.

Still trembling from the earlier intensity, Yeojin lets out a soft gasp as you flip her to her feet, guiding her back to you with firm hands. Her body pressed flush against your chest, her soft skin warm and inviting. Without hesitation, you grip her firmly, lifting her off the ground in one smooth motion. Her legs dangle freely, toes brushing against your thighs as you hold her up by her breasts, your large hands cradling her delicate frame.

The weightlessness leaves her breathless, a shiver coursing through her as she realizes how completely you’re holding her. Your fingers curl around her sensitive nipples, squeezing gently, your thumbs brushing over her hardened peaks. Each touch draws a soft whimper from her lips, her body responding to every deliberate motion. “You’re so small,” you murmur, your voice low and rough against her ear. “I love how you fit perfectly in my hands.”

Her breath hitches at your words, and a thrill races through her at the sheer size and strength you exude. She feels utterly enveloped by you, each motion a reminder of how easily you carry her. “I love it too,” she whispers, her voice trembling with need. “Please… I need you.”

You don’t make her wait. Adjusting your grip to pull her closer, you angle her hips, lining yourself up with her slick heat. The first thrust is deliberate and deep, burying yourself fully inside her in one swift motion. Her head falls back, a sharp cry escaping her lips. “Oh my god,” she gasps, her voice breaking as her body stretches to accommodate you. The overwhelming sensation of being filled leaves her trembling in your grasp.

“Fuck, Yeojin,” you groan, your fingers flexing against her breasts as you begin to move. “You’re so tight… so fucking perfect.”

Her legs sway with each powerful thrust, the motion making her feel completely at your mercy. Her walls pulse around you, gripping you tightly as she whimpers, “Yes… so good. So full.” Her voice is breathless, her hands reaching up to clutch at your arms, her nails lightly raking over your skin as she struggles to steady herself.

Your hands knead her breasts as you pick up the pace, your thumbs circling and pinching her sensitive peaks. The added stimulation sends shivers down her spine, her body arching instinctively in your hold. “You feel that, princess?” you murmur against her ear, your voice thick with desire. “Feel how deep I am inside you?”

“Yes,” she cries, her back arching as the sensations flood her body. “I love it… love how you fill me.”

Her hands drop to her stomach, her fingers pressing lightly against her skin as if trying to ground herself. She gasps when she feels you pushing in and out of her, the motion resonating deep within. “I can feel you,” she whispers, her voice a mixture of awe and pleasure. “So deep…”

The sensation intensifies as your grip tightens, your fingers digging into the soft flesh of her breasts. Each movement becomes more deliberate, your thrusts deepening as you shift her slightly, driving her backward with every motion to meet your hips. The angle changes, and a sharp gasp rips from her throat as you hit the spot that sends jolts of electric pleasure through her. Her legs quiver in the air, her head tilting back as her body struggles to process the overwhelming sensation, her cries growing louder with every deliberate thrust.

“That’s it,” you growl, your voice low and rough, your rhythm relentless as her walls clench around you. “Right there. You feel me, don’t you? Taking you exactly how you need.”

“Yes, yes!” she cries, her voice trembling with desperation. Her body melts into your hold, entirely weightless as she surrenders to the intensity. “Don’t stop—please, don’t stop.”

Her moans grow erratic, the wet, rhythmic sounds of your connection filling the room, mingling with your labored breaths. Every powerful thrust pushes her closer to the edge, the sheer force of your movements making her tremble uncontrollably. Your fingers tug and pinch at her nipples, her cries of pleasure growing louder with each twist of your touch.

“You’re mine,” you growl, your words reverberating against her skin as you press your lips to her neck. “Every inch of you. You’re mine.”

Her legs quiver as her head falls forward, her breathing ragged. “Yes,” she moans, her voice trembling. “I’m yours. All yours.”

Your pace quickens, each thrust deep and precise, driving her to a fever pitch as her body arches and tightens around you. The sharp cries escaping her lips tell you everything you need to know—she’s right on the edge, completely lost in the ecstasy of your touch.

The relentless depth of your thrusts drives her higher and higher as her cries grow desperate and her body tightens around you. “Don’t stop,” she pleads, her voice barely more than a whimper. “Please… I’m so close.”

You shift slightly, angling her hips to plunge even deeper, your thrusts growing harder and faster, each motion sending sparks of pleasure coursing through her. Her trembling becomes uncontrollable, her breaths ragged as the tension builds to an unbearable height. Her fingers clutch desperately at your forearms, her nails biting into your skin as if anchoring herself to reality. Her cries escalate, breaking into frantic gasps as her body teeters precariously on the edge.

“Fuck—there!” she screams, her voice raw and shattering as her climax slams into her with devastating force. Her entire body convulses, her head falling forward onto your shoulder as her muscles give way, leaving her completely limp in your hands. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashes through her, her walls clenching around you with an intensity that borders on overwhelming. Each pulsation grips you tighter, pulling you impossibly deeper into her heat, her body trembling violently as she lets out a series of breathless, broken cries.

But you don’t let up. Your grip on her tightens, your hands steadying her trembling frame as you continue to thrust, your movements deliberate and unrelenting. Each motion draws out her climax, prolonging the intoxicating waves of pleasure coursing through her. Her head tilts back, her mouth falling open as her voice becomes high-pitched and fractured, her overstimulated body writhing uncontrollably against you.

“Too much—oh my god!” she whimpers, her words tumbling out in gasping fragments. Yet, despite her plea, her hips betray her, instinctively rocking to meet yours, the overwhelming sensation mingling with an insatiable, desperate need. Her body quivers in your hold, the aftershocks colliding with your unyielding rhythm, and her cries blend into the sound of skin meeting skin, her sensitivity turning into a heady, all-consuming bliss.

And then it happens, before the first climax fully fades, another builds, the relentless friction and fullness pushing her straight into a second wave. Her entire body stiffens in your grasp, her head snapping back against your shoulder as the overwhelming sensation tears through her. “I’m cumming again!” she cries, her voice a mix of shock and unrestrained ecstasy. Her walls flutter violently around you, each contraction milking every inch of you as she tumbles headlong into a second, earth-shattering release.

Her cries of pleasure become incoherent, her body melting further into your hands as her climax washes over her in crashing waves. The slick heat of her arousal coats you, and the rhythmic clenching around your length pulls you closer to your own edge. “Fuck, Yeojin,” you groan, your thrusts growing erratic as the heat in your core builds to an unbearable peak.

With a guttural moan, you pull her as close as possible, burying yourself fully inside her as your release hits like an unstoppable wave. Each pulse surges deep within her, a searing heat spreading through her core as you fill her completely. Her body responds instantly, trembling violently as her walls spasm around you, clutching you tighter with every throb of your release. The fullness overwhelms her, sending her into a frenzy of sensation, her breaths hitching into sharp, uneven gasps.

“Oh my god,” she cries, her voice trembling as her body convulses. The sensation of being filled so completely pushes her to another peak, her climax gripping her with renewed intensity. Her walls flutter uncontrollably, their rhythmic contractions pulling you deeper, as if her body is desperate to claim every drop. The pulsing heat between you draws out her pleasure in endless waves, her cries raw and unrestrained.

Your hands find her breasts, kneading them gently, your fingers brushing against her taut, sensitive peaks. The sensation only amplifies her ecstasy, her head lolling weakly against your shoulder as she rides out the unrelenting pleasure. Her body feels weightless in your hold, trembling as the aftershocks ripple through her.

As your release continues to surge, your legs falter under the sheer intensity of the moment. “Fuck…” you groan, your voice rough and shaky as your knees buckle. Losing your balance, you stumble forward, collapsing onto the bed with her still pressed tightly against you. The added weight presses you deeper into her, burying you to the hilt in a way that neither of you is prepared for.

The effect is immediate. The sudden depth makes her cry out, a sharp, high-pitched squeal tearing from her lips as her overstimulated body is driven into another powerful climax. Her thighs quake uncontrollably, her back arching against you as the intensity consumes her entirely. “Ahh—FUCK!” she screams, her voice shaking as her body bucks beneath you, her release crashing over her like a tidal wave.

Her walls clamp down hard, the rhythmic pulsations drawing every last ounce of your release into her. Each spasm feels impossibly tight, pulling at you with relentless force, her cries dissolving into incoherent moans as the pleasure overtakes her completely. Her hands claw at the sheets, her knuckles white as her body convulses, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

The deep, intimate pressure of your release combined with the weight of your body pinning her down prolongs her climax, leaving her utterly lost in the moment. Each pump reignites her sensitivity, her oversaturated nerves sending jolts of pleasure through her as if she’s trapped in a cycle of ecstasy. “I can’t—oh my god, I can’t!” she gasps, her voice broken as her body jerks uncontrollably in your grasp.

Her second climax stretches on, each wave crashing harder than the last, leaving her trembling violently. The combination of your warmth spilling into her, the unrelenting depth, and the closeness of your bodies becomes an intoxicating overload. Her cries turn into soft, breathless whimpers, her body spent yet still clinging to the aftershocks, as though it doesn’t want the moment to end.

You hold her tightly, your hands cupping her breasts as you knead them gently, grounding her in your embrace. “You’re amazing,” you murmur, your voice thick with awe as you press soft kisses to her shoulder. Your body stills, but the weight of you keeps her anchored, every lingering contraction pulling you closer as you both ride out the final moments of bliss.

When the intensity finally begins to ebb, her body goes completely limp beneath you, her breathing shallow and uneven as she shivers against the mattress. Her warmth presses against you, and you instinctively shift to avoid putting too much weight on her, but you don’t pull away. Your chest remains flush against her back, your arms wrapped protectively around her waist as the lingering tremors of her release ripple through her.

“Are you okay?” you murmur softly, your lips brushing against the shell of her ear, the tenderness in your tone grounding her.

She nods weakly, her voice barely audible as she lets out a soft, breathless sigh. “That was… oh my god, that was… the best,” she murmurs, her words trailing off as the aftershocks continue to course through her. Her cheeks are deeply flushed, her skin glistening with a sheen of effort and ecstasy. When she tilts her head slightly to glance up at you, her eyes are heavy-lidded and glazed with a dreamy, dazed expression. She looks utterly spent yet so full of contentment that it makes your chest ache with affection.

“Not going to argue with that,” you reply, a soft chuckle escaping as you brush a damp strand of hair from her face. “That was… something else.”

As you begin to shift, intending to pull away, her hand suddenly presses against yours, her fingers curling weakly around your arm. “Wait,” she whispers, her voice trembling but firm. “Just… stay. Just for a little while.”

You pause, the words stirring something deep within you. Nodding silently, you settle back against her, letting your weight ground her as you both bask in the afterglow. The intimacy of the moment feels infinite, your breathing slowly syncing as the world outside seems to dissolve.

Minutes pass, the quiet punctuated only by the faint hum of your synchronized breaths and her occasional whimpers as the lingering aftershocks ripple through her body. She remains still beneath you, her trembling legs unable to support her fully, as if the weight of the moment has left her boneless.

When you finally begin to pull out, it’s with deliberate care, your movements slow and tender, your hand resting on her lower back to steady her. The moment you leave her, she gasps softly, her body instinctively clenching at the sudden emptiness. A high-pitched whimper escapes her lips, her voice trembling with raw emotion as her body quivers in response.

“No…” she whines softly, her forehead pressing against the mattress as her fingers weakly clutch the sheets for stability. The loss seems almost unbearable, a hollow ache that fills the void you’ve left behind. “I’m so full but… I feel so empty,” she murmurs, her words laced with both longing and exhaustion.

Your eyes lower, taking in the sight of your release threatening to spill from her, glistening as it lingers at her entrance. The sight stirs something protective and possessive in you, a reminder of the connection you’ve just shared. Reaching out gently, you press a soothing kiss to the curve of her shoulder, your hand rubbing gentle circles along her back. “I’ve got you,” you whisper, your voice full of warmth as you pull her closer into your embrace. She melts into you again, her soft, spent body fitting perfectly against yours.

The world outside feels distant, the quiet intimacy of the moment wrapping you both in a cocoon of warmth and trust. Neither of you speaks, the gentle rhythm of your synchronized breaths the only sound, as her body fully relaxes in your arms.

Eventually, Yeojin stirs slightly, her head lifting just enough to mumble, “We’re… such a mess.” Her voice is barely audible, her words trailing off as her eyes flutter shut again.

You laugh softly, your hands trailing down her back in soothing strokes. “You’re not wrong,” you admit, glancing down at the tousled strands of hair sticking to her damp skin and the faint sheen that glistens over you both. “How about we clean up?”

She groans softly, her arms tightening weakly around your neck. “I don’t think I can move,” she admits, her voice tinged with a mixture of humor and genuine fatigue. “You’ll have to do everything.”

“Deal,” you reply with a grin, scooping her up effortlessly. She lets out a soft gasp, but it’s quickly followed by a quiet, sleepy giggle as she leans her head against your shoulder, her arms draping limply around your neck.

The bathroom fills with soft steam as you adjust the shower, the warm spray cascading down and curling around you both. Yeojin shivers slightly in your arms as you guide her under the water, her body slumping gently against you. She tilts her head back, letting the spray soak her hair and trail down her delicate frame. A contented sigh escapes her lips as the water warms her skin, her eyelids fluttering closed.

Her small hands rest lightly on your chest, her grip loose and trusting. “You’re too good to me,” she murmurs, her voice soft and dreamy.

“You make it easy,” you reply, brushing your lips against her temple. The water streams around you both, and her body sags further against yours, her trust in your care palpable as you hold her steady.

“Let me take care of you,” you say gently, brushing a damp strand of hair from her flushed face. She nods weakly, her trust in you evident as she allows you to guide her closer to the stream. The water trails down her body, glistening over her soft curves as she lets out a quiet, contented sigh.

You reach for the shampoo, lathering it between your hands before carefully working it into her hair. Your fingers move in slow, soothing circles, massaging her scalp with deliberate care. She hums softly, her head tilting forward slightly, her balance wavering as she leans heavily into your chest.

“Relax,” you murmur, holding her steady with one hand on her waist. “I’ve got you.”

Her lips curve into a faint smile, her eyes closing as she lets herself melt into your touch. The soft hum of the water surrounds you both, a cocoon of warmth and quiet intimacy. As you rinse her hair, guiding the water to wash away the suds, her small hands rest limply against your arms, her fingers curling weakly as if to hold onto you.

When her hair is clean, you reach for the body wash, lathering it onto your hands. Gently, you trail your palms over her shoulders and down her arms, your touch light but thorough. “You’re so good to me,” she murmurs, her voice slurred with exhaustion and affection. Her head rests against your chest, her breaths shallow but steady.

You smile softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You deserve it,” you reply, your tone low and full of warmth.

As your hands move lower, gliding over her back and across her sides, you notice the slight quiver in her legs. “Can you stand, or should I hold you up?” you ask, your voice tinged with concern.

She shakes her head weakly, her hands clutching at your arms. “Just… hold me,” she whispers, her tone almost pleading.

Without hesitation, you slide your arm around her waist, pulling her closer to steady her. Your other hand continues its careful work, trailing down to her thighs. Her breath hitches as your fingers glide over the inside of her thighs, your touch gentle but deliberate. You shift slightly, intending to clean her thoroughly, but the moment your hand moves higher, she weakly stops you, her small fingers curling around your wrist.

“Don’t,” she whispers, her voice trembling but firm. “I… want to keep it. Please.”

Your chest tightens at her words, the intimacy of the moment stealing your breath. You lower your hand immediately, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Okay,” you murmur, your voice thick with affection. “Anything you want.”

She relaxes again in your hold, her trust and vulnerability filling the space between you with a quiet intensity. You adjust her slightly, resuming your gentle attention elsewhere, ensuring she feels cared for without pushing her boundaries.

As the water rinses her skin, you feel the last remnants of tension leave her body, replaced by a deep, bone-deep relaxation. Her head lolls to the side, her cheek resting against your chest as she exhales softly, her lips brushing against your skin.

“Almost done,” you whisper, your hand trailing down her legs one final time. The warmth of the water and the tenderness of the moment seem to lull her further, her eyes fluttering closed as she lets herself lean fully into your support.

When you’re finished, you turn off the shower and wrap her in a fluffy towel, lifting her effortlessly as her arms drape over your shoulders. “You’re spoiling me,” she murmurs sleepily, her voice muffled against your neck.

“Good,” you reply, pressing a kiss to the crown of her damp hair. “You deserve to be spoiled.”

Her cheeks flush deeper, but she doesn’t argue, simply burying her face against you as you carry her out of the bathroom. Once back in the bedroom, you set her down gently, sitting her on the edge of the bed as you begin to dry her hair with the towel.

Her head tilts forward slightly, her eyes half-closed as you fuss over her. “Okay, enough,” she protests weakly, though the softness in her voice and the tiny smile on her lips betray her affection for your care. “I can do it myself.”

“Not yet,” you reply with a grin, continuing to gently rub the towel over her damp hair. “You’re still half asleep, and I don’t trust you not to just fall over.”

She lets out a small laugh, her shoulders relaxing further as you work. Once her hair is mostly dry, you hand her the towel to finish the rest. “Keep going,” you tell her gently, brushing a kiss to her temple. “I’ll be right back.”

Stepping away, you pull the rumpled covers from the bed, stripping the sheets and replacing them with fresh ones. The soft fabric feels cool under your fingers as you smooth the corners, ensuring everything is perfect for her. The faint scent of lavender from the new sheets fills the air, adding to the calm, cozy atmosphere.

By the time you return, Yeojin is still perched on the edge of the bed, her towel loosely draped around her shoulders. She looks up at you with sleepy, affectionate eyes, her small frame practically folding into itself as she waits.

“All done,” you announce with a soft smile, lifting the fresh blankets and gesturing for her to crawl in. She doesn’t need any prompting, slipping under the covers with a contented sigh as you slide in beside her.

Immediately, she shifts closer, curling into your chest as you drape your arm over her waist. Her small body fits perfectly against yours, and you gently pull her closer, resting your chin lightly on the top of her head. Her fingers trace absentminded patterns on your forearm as the warmth of her frame melts into yours.

“This is nice,” she murmurs, her voice muffled against your chest.

“Yeah,” you reply softly, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You’re perfect like this.”

The quiet comfort of the moment stretches out as her breathing slows, her body relaxing fully against yours. You think she might have drifted off when she stirs slightly, her fingers tightening their grip on your arm.

“What’s up?” you ask, glancing down at her.

She hesitates for a moment, her cheeks visibly pink even in the dim light. “I… I want to hold you,” she whispers, her voice small but certain.

Your eyebrows lift in surprise, but your heart swells at the sincerity in her words. A smile tugs at your lips as you gently nudge her chin so she looks up at you. “You want to switch?” you ask playfully, your voice tinged with affection.

She nods shyly, her gaze darting away before meeting yours again. “I just… I want to,” she murmurs, her tone vulnerable but earnest. “Please?”

You chuckle softly and roll onto your back, your arm slipping under her shoulders to guide her over. “Alright, princess,” you reply warmly, settling her partially on top of you.

Yeojin wastes no time, shifting until her body molds into yours, her chest pressing against your side as her arms drape over you. One leg slides over your waist, her knee hooking securely against your hip as if anchoring herself in place.She presses into you, her cheek nestles against your shoulder as she sighs contentedly.

Her fingers rest lightly against your chest, occasionally twitching as if trying to hold onto you tighter. “This feels good,” she murmurs, her voice thick with drowsy affection. “I just wanted to… be close to you.”

You smile softly, your hand finding its way to her back, brushing gentle circles over her skin. “I’m not going anywhere,” you reply, your tone low and soothing.

She shifts slightly, her lips brushing against your shoulder in a sleepy kiss. The tender gesture makes your chest tighten with warmth, though her attempt is interrupted when she sputters suddenly, pulling back with a small groan. “Bitter soap!” she mumbles, her voice full of sleepy indignation.

You laugh quietly, your fingers trailing up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s on you for sneaking a taste,” you tease gently.

She huffs playfully, burying her face into your shoulder as her arms tighten around you. “I don’t care. I’m not moving,” she mutters stubbornly, her words muffled against your skin.

“Good,” you reply with a grin, pulling the blanket higher over both of you. “Stay right there.”

Her breathing slows as her body fully relaxes into yours, the warmth and weight of her slight frame grounding you both. Even as sleep claims her, her leg stays draped over your waist, her fingers resting limply on your chest as if to remind you she’s still there.

Under the fresh covers, surrounded by the calm intimacy of the moment, you let your own eyes drift closed. The world outside fades, leaving just the quiet sound of her breaths and the steady beat of her heart against your side as you both sink into peaceful slumber, perfectly entwined.

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prael · 9 days ago

Text

Day 7: Rockstar

Loona/ARTMS Jinsoul x male reader smut

words: 3,223 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

Sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll. That's probably the order she would put them in.

It might seem cliché, but there's nothing new under the sun. Life on tour is an endless cycle of late-night gigs and after-parties searching for something to drink, take or fuck. It's an addiction, the lifestyle, and Jinsoul isn't an exception to the rule.

Every performance goes exactly the same: play to a sold-out crowd, have a little something backstage, give some autographs, follow the drink wherever it leads and then end the night fucking her lead guitarist. Rinse and repeat. It's easy enough to follow the routine once you've got the hang of things.

She convinced you to pick it up for the first time back in high school. She told you that you had real talent and should really give the whole music thing a shot. She said you had natural charm when you held a guitar and could make everyone in the room pay attention, so you played along because you wanted to see if her words were true or not.

As it turned out, she was right. You might have never played anything in your life before joining Jinsoul in the practice room, but you're a quick learner, talented too. You followed her instructions, listened to all the little details of what being a rockstar means and eventually made it big. Together.

It isn't like you owe her everything for helping you through this life but you appreciate everything she has done for you, nonetheless. If Jinsoul had said jump, you'd be asking her how high but unfortunately for you, you can't exactly tell her this without looking like that one crazy stalker fan (that's an entirely different story).

When you're with the others though, performing together on stage with thousands of people screaming out their love and adoration as your fingers dance up and down your fretboard, well, there are no words to describe the feeling. You're addicted. It's thrilling, nerve-racking, terrifying and amazing all at the same time.

And the truth is, you feel it just like she does. You step off the stage and reach for whatever bottle you can find because the adrenaline coursing through your veins is electrifying, but the buzz always leaves too quickly. So, in order to prolong the high, you take it back to the hotel. Groupies, liquor and the hard stuff; everything is fair game.

Jinsoul has her hand wrapped firmly around your waist as she brings her body close to grinding against your thigh while singing into the mic. Her breathy voice sending shivers down your spine. Your fingers continue to glide effortlessly across strings while staring out into the sea of faceless bodies cheering as they sway from side to side beneath strobe lighting.

The lead vocalist grips tightly onto your shirt as her tongue darts over your earlobe, causing your skin to prickle with sensation before leaning away again. She grins wickedly, knowing what kind of effect she can have on you before returning to strutting across the stage. She dances in time with each chord progression you create. Watching as Jinsoul plays with her fans who push forward eagerly at any opportunity, hoping their fingertips can graze hers for even half a second, she laughs. The flashing lights are flickering in a seemingly random pattern, illuminating her features and casting shadows upon them all at once.

It's the encore. Fans chanting and begging for more. All their attention fixed solely upon Jinsoul; her movements so captivatingly beautiful yet dangerously provocative. Everything about her radiates confidence—power—lust. You watch carefully when she bends down to place a chaste kiss on a fan's hand; you watch when she takes the lollipop from one guy's mouth and puts it between her teeth. Smiling smugly to herself after spitting it out back at him. And you can't help yourself either... It's impossible not to get drawn into her orbit whenever she gets like this.

As much as everyone loves a good show, it ends too soon. Everything finishes with your eyes meeting hers through sweaty bangs; hands clapping in unison along with the rest of the band as they thank the audience for coming out tonight.

A smile still remains plastered firmly on Jinsoul's lips despite how exhausted she appears after performing for hours straight. Sweat beads glisten across her brow and drip down her temple as she pants heavily from exertion but still maintains that air of invincibility and untouchability, like always.

The lights dim and you're making your way off stage with Jinsoul hot on your tail behind you. You turn around intending to compliment her performance, only managing halfway before suddenly she presses her palm flat against the wall beside your head, pinning you against it. Her eyes glint mischievously at seeing how flustered you've become, having her so close to your face again.

"I know I did amazing." She says simply, before licking her upper lip seductively.

Before you know it her hand is already wrapped around the nape of your neck pulling you toward her and into a rough kiss filled with needful desperation. Tongue sliding past yours in earnest exploration before sliding away again to drag along the roof of your mouth instead. A gasp leaves your lungs being stolen away by Jinsoul, who eagerly swallows it down as if it were nourishment enough to sustain herself completely on its own.

"I need a drink," she murmurs huskily before pulling on your wrist leading towards the dressing rooms where several bottles await you in ice.

Another night, another fucking blur. It started in the dressing room with your band members; congratulating themselves for playing such an incredible gig together whilst downing shots and racking lines until they forget why exactly it is that they should even celebrate anymore.

You know little of what happened between then and now. Just snapshots. An image in your mind of Jinsoul dancing on a table surrounded by strangers all cheering her name. A memory of a bathroom stall where you found yourself with your pants pulled halfway down to your knees, some girl whose face remains indistinguishable giving you sloppy head. Then there are parts where you recall talking animatedly with some fan asking what's your favourite track from their album, others asking you to sign their breasts because they didn't bring anything else to write on. More of just flashes, really—snapshots of moments lost forever amongst booze, drugs and cigarette smoke.

It must have been a miracle that got the two of you back here alone without any incident or accident happening beforehand, considering neither of you could walk properly without stumbling over something unseen every couple of steps taken forward. Regardless, however, eventually, you do reach the hotel room door, which swings open violently crashing loudly into the wall behind it. Kicked by Jinsoul, who couldn't care less about causing damage or waking people up around you because she wants nothing more right now than to get laid.

Jinsoul's lips crush against yours almost immediately, stealing your breath away just as soon as it escapes from your lungs. Teeth clash clumsily while tongues slide hungrily within each other's mouths, fighting fiercely until finally breaking apart once air becomes scarce between you both.

Your mouth travels downward along her jawline, sucking bruises into soft flesh wherever possible—finding purchase there to continue making marks upon unmarred skin otherwise unknown and wanting—a place forbidden by nature yet entirely inviting, nonetheless. Fingertips dance gracefully across her curves until her legs give out, sending the two of you falling onto the bed without caution or warning whatsoever.

She's pulling off her ripped jeans. You're helping remove everything else until she sits before you fully exposed wearing nothing but those sinful fishnet stockings covering perfectly toned calves leading upward towards her thighs. They contrast beautifully against her flawless pale complexion; smooth as marble but warm beneath your touch, unlike the cold stone ever could hope to achieve.

Time and time again, no matter how often you've done this exact thing, seeing her bare like this never fails to amaze you. This angelic creature baring herself shamelessly beneath bright lights—openly inviting your gaze as though daring it not to look elsewhere but at her. And god knows how difficult resisting temptation truly is...

"Fucking come on." Her speech is slurred.

Her impatience shows clearly through alcohol-glazed eyes staring expectantly up at yours, silently pleading desperately for action. She doesn't need to ask twice, though; you gladly oblige, willingly pressing palms firmly upon inner thighs. Pushing gently outward, spreading wide welcoming hips before pressing two fingers roughly inside her slick, wet cunt.

Jinsoul's body arches upwards off the bedding instantly from pleasure, throwing her head backwards against pillows as loud moans escape parted lips. You're sloppy. Messy. Drunkenly probing into her pussy, desperately trying to hit that spot deep within her core, which always manages to drive her absolutely insane.

"No," she groans in frustration. "Fuck me." Every word she speaks takes an effort to enunciate clearly, each syllable struggling against the haze clouding her mind from reason. "Fingers aren't enough..."

You understand immediately what she means when she looks at you with those half-lidded eyes filled with need; lustful desire burning intensely within pupils dilated to full width now. She wants you to fuck her. Hard. With your cock buried deep inside her until she forgets everything else, but how amazing it feels being filled completely by you.

And so, you oblige once more... removing fingers covered entirely, coated thickly in Jinsoul's juices before quickly fumbling at your trousers. Undoing zippers hastily and pulling them down past your knees where they fall onto carpet flooring forgotten alongside all other articles removed already.

She's watching you undress, her eyes roaming your body with their haze. Lips curling upwards into a smirk before licking over teeth, hungrily anticipating what comes next. She knows exactly what she wants from you. Knows just how badly she needs it right now, too.

She sees you're ready, and without a word, she climbs onto all fours. Leaning forward on hands and knees before lowering her face onto the sheets below, presenting herself fully exposed before you, waiting eagerly for what comes next. And as soon as your tip brushes against her entrance, wetting itself upon her lips, it's all so familiar to you. You've been here a hundred times before.

You slap down hard onto her ass, making the skin turn pink. Jinsoul yelps out, surprised, but enjoys the sensation nonetheless. You repeat this several more times until her butt cheeks burn deep crimson under contact with each strike delivered forcefully across them. She groans loudly with each blow struck upon sensitive flesh, causing pain mixed deliciously together alongside pleasure.

When done playing games, finally, you grab her hips firmly—tightly enough that fingerprints will remain bruised tomorrow morning—before plunging forward into Jinsoul's cunt, burying yourself balls-deep within her core instantly. She always says sex after a show is special. Whether it's the adrenaline, the drink, the drugs or whatever the hell else that fuels you, you give it to her good every single time.

Your thrusts become rough and quick almost immediately. Skin slapping loudly together with each movement made forcefully enough to cause ripples across flesh bouncing back from the impact. It's messy. Dirty. Filthy. But Jinsoul loves every minute of being fucked hard like this—every moment spent pounding into her pussy again and again relentlessly.

She feels so good around you. Hot. Tight. Wet. Your cock slides smoothly between slick folds, easily finding purchase within soft walls stretching accommodatingly around its size. She moans loudly, screaming obscenities with each thrust given, encouraging you further until eventually, she climaxes, screaming out your name in ecstasy.

Jinsoul collapses forward onto the bedding below, completely spent from orgasm. But you're still as hard as ever. You follow her down, boning her into the bed with your pelvis slapping hard against her ass cheeks, smashing them repeatedly against skin reddened by prior contact already.

She gasps in shock at feeling you still going, unable to do much else except accept how wonderfully incredible it feels being fucked senselessly. You pound away at her pussy, relentlessly continuing your assault. Thrusts becoming faster now, quicker in pace. You can't be sure, but you think she's cumming again. The way her body shudders uncontrollably beneath you, convulsing violently while her voice cracks mid-moan. She cries out in ecstasy, calling for god knows who or what, but fuck if it doesn't make you want to finish too.

You're entranced in ecstasy, lost within a haze of pleasure coursing through every nerve ending within your body. And before long, you're cumming hard into her cunt. You're collapsing down against her. Chest to back. Her willing body pressed into the bed beneath you. But still, somehow, she manages to reach backwards, grabbing tightly onto your arm with one hand, pulling you closer towards her until your lips meet hers once more.

Your tongues dance together in perfect sync, tasting one another intensely as they battle for dominance between mouths. Kisses become sloppy. Desperate. You both need more from each other than you currently have within yourselves to give.

And finally, when you break away, breathing heavily, she murmurs, "Nothing beats this, right? Nothing... feels better than fucking you."

You know she's right. Nothing does come close to how amazing it feels to be inside her.

The next morning you wake up with your head throbbing painfully, feeling hungover as hell. Not a lot of the night before remains in your head except for vague images of Jinsoul dancing on tables surrounded by admirers cheering her name, or maybe you were the one doing all that. You don't remember.

You roll your head to the side. To the empty space beside you.

"Jinsoul?"

There's a numb tremor that runs up your body—a feeling caught somewhere between confusion and pleasure.

You find yourself reaching out to touch her, wanting desperately to feel the warmth radiating from her skin but instead finding nothing except cold air and soft sheets. She's gone. It's not like this is the first time this has happened though...

"I'm right here, idiot," she says softly.

She wraps her mouth around your cock again, slowly bobbing her head up and down along its length. There's the feeling again. It's her; dragged out of your sleepy haze one suck at a time until finally you're able to fully appreciate everything about it.

Her tongue laps over the tip. Her hand strokes gently at the base while the other plays with your balls. It's fucking amazing. It always is whenever she does this. You watch as she takes you completely into her mouth, wrapping her lips around you before slowly pulling back off. Her cheeks hollow slightly as she sucks hard on the head, causing you to groan loudly and buck your hips upward involuntarily.

She looks up at you through thick lashes. Her eyes were stained with last night's makeup; mascara smudged across her face creating dark circles around her irises, but still somehow managing to retain their natural beauty despite that fact. You smile at her and she smiles back, before taking you deep once more.

Your hands grip tightly onto the bed sheets beside you as she begins pumping faster now, bobbing her head up and down your length with renewed vigour. What a way to wake up in the morning, huh?

"Fuck," you hiss between clenched teeth. "Keep going."

Your hips thrust up again, causing Jinsoul to gag slightly at the sudden movement suddenly coming from beneath her. She looks up at you, meeting your eyes again before winking playfully.

She pushes her throat onto you until her lips meet the base of your cock. You moan loudly, unable to contain yourself any longer and reach out, grabbing roughly onto her hair, forcing her head forward even further.

She gags once more but doesn't stop moving her mouth up and down along your shaft. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer. You don't know how much longer you can last like this, so you tug firmly at Jinsoul's locks again; signalling to her that you're about to cum.

She releases you from her mouth with a loud pop, then wastes no time in crawling over you. Straddling her hips above yours, she guides you to her entrance before lowering herself onto you. Her cunt is already a mess, wet with excitement, and stained with last night's debauchery. It doesn't bother her, riding you like this in the morning. She loves it.

The sight of her naked body bouncing on top of yours is enough to make anyone lose their mind and fuck if you don't want to see this every damn day of your life. The way her tits bounce in tandem with each movement made, how her mouth hangs open slightly in ecstasy as she throws her head back, letting out a moan now and then. Fuck, she's so goddamn sexy.

She knows what she's doing, too. Knows how to draw this out as long as possible, prolonging your pleasure for as long as she can without breaking eye contact with you. She rides you hard; hips thrusting forward aggressively, then slowing to a laboured grind that leaves you reeling for more.

"Good morning," she coos seductively.

You're mesmerised by her—completely hypnotised by everything about her. And before long, you're reaching out, grabbing onto her waist, guiding her movements as best as you can manage.

She leans over and kisses you hungrily while continuing to fuck herself on top of your cock. Her tongue pushes into your mouth, swirling around inside, tasting every inch available. The kiss is hot, wet and messy, but perfect, nonetheless.

Jinsoul breaks away from you and places her hands on either side of your head, steadying herself as she rides you harder and faster now, bringing both of you closer and closer towards orgasm. Your fingers dig into her skin, gripping tightly onto flesh for purchase as you feel yourself nearing climax.

It's too much. It's all too fucking good. You can't take anymore. You're not going to last another second longer. You need release. Desperately.

At the very last, you buck her off, throw her down to the bed and climb to your knees, hovering over her as you begin jacking yourself off furiously. The sight of her lying there, legs spread wide open, waiting patiently for you to cum on her only intensifies the sensation building within your core.

"Fuck!"

With one final cry, you erupt onto Jinsoul's stomach, painting white streaks across taut skin stretched taut across toned abs. Up to her tits too, ropes of cum covering pink nipples standing erect beneath it. You collapse next to her, completely spent from exertion. She laughs softly, running fingertips through damp hair and sticking messily to her forehead before wiping away sweat beads dripping down her chin.

"You always finish quick when we do this in the morning," she whispers teasingly.

You laugh too. "You just look too good."

She rolls over, planting a quick kiss on your lips. "Good enough to give me another in the shower?"

You grin.

She matches it with a knowing stare.

This is the life.

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