#the sulker

[dreambones]

Decided to color these sketches of my proxies ocs. I was going to clean the sketches but I kinda like how they look like this.

Top is new art and bottom new art next to their old references.

Both Prier and Victoria are Slenderman proxies, while Radio is a Sulker proxy.

I want to make something with this guys so badTM.

[capricioussun]

Vivid image in my mind just now of Edge having a super bad day at work. Going home, almost completely quiet, no one else notices, makes dinner, but slinks off shortly thereafter. A few hours later, someone finds him bundled up entirely on the couch in the game room, we're talking full blanket cocoon, with only his face and one hand left free to hold his phone and watch youtube video essays about like. The history of fencing, or the deadliest amusement park rides. Looks gross and miserable so they just let him be for now. It's what he needs.

[moe-broey]

Fuck tjis shit I'm making base Alfonse my greeter again

AWESOEM......

[nizynskis]

mmmm:[ getting quite sick when i have a round 2 job interview and my hardest final tomorrow. I hope i make it through and then I faint and fall through the floor and land in a crystal cave and everyone who made me get outside rushes in and carries me out

[kingcatnine]

he's literally sulking

[mafufuu]

i dont think today is my day

[mermaids-and-dinos]

I'm in trouble and will hopefully be forgiven when I get home

[ssaanaaloves]

the sulker and her comforter

[heartmaddie]

dusk 'til dawn ! a small collection of domestic drabbles including the haikyuu! men tsukishima kei , akaashi keiji , azumane asahi , hinata shoyo , ushijima wakatoshi , kiyoomi sakusa

07:21 ! tsukishima kei

the flat was always unreasonably cold in the mornings.

she curled up under the thin linen sheets as she stirred awake, uncomfortable from the freezing gust of wind and rain which had just blown through their window. after she let out a groggy, tired sigh, yn looked to her right, gazing at the restful boy who had a peculiar serenity displayed on his face. a small content smile was found on her lips, he was utterly captivating.

she watched with a tender expression as kei stirred awake, he groaned quietly as he stretched out his tense muscles before rolling over to face her. the rain gently patted against their rooftop as y/n felt his warm arms pull her into his warm chest as he nuzzled his nose into the soft strands of her hair.

“morning..” he mumbled quietly, the exhaustion evident in his voice as he yawned, “what time is it?”

“seven something?” she hummed wearily in response, rubbing her face against his neck and soaking up as much warmth as she possibly could. “need to get ready for work soon..” 

he let out a quiet groan out of distaste, holding her even tighter as a silent protest.

“it’s cold, i don’t wanna get out of bed..” tsukishima was always a bit of a sulker in the morning, and yn couldn’t help but chuckle as she looked up at him with an affectionate gaze. “let’s just stay here for a little bit longer, mkay?” he murmured sleepily, pressing a chaste kiss against the skin of her temple.

“hm, fine..” she sighed dramatically, but was secretly overjoyed by his uncommon display of affection.

yn let him shift downwards to rest his golden locks against her chest, her fingers intertwining with each strand. her gaze followed him as his eyes started to shut once again, falling into the temptation of sleep in the comfort of her envelope.

9:53 ! akaashi keiji

“i can always cancel my meeting, i don’t want you to be alone when you’re unwell.” he hummed quietly, voice a blur to her ringing ears. keiji always had nurturing tendencies, but that was amplified to the max when she was sick. he brushed his rough fingertips over the skin of her forehead, moving any hair from her face.

“no, it’s okay,” she was so congested, it was evident on her tongue from every word she���d utter. “you should go to work,” her gaze was ever so soft as she admired his furrowed eyebrows and worried expression, her fingers rested on top of his hand, offering him a sliver of comfort, confirming that she’d be okay alone.

“are you sure?” his forehead creased and she let out a soft giggle as she brought her soft hand to rub the wrinkles away.

“you’ll look old if you keep on frowning like that..” she hummed, lips twisted upwards as she looked up at him.

“you just make me worry.” he huffed as he pressed a soft kiss to her supple cheek, “i’ll bring you home some medicine, make sure to rest up.” keiji rested his forehead against hers, potentially breathing in the bacteria of her illness, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

keiji let out a soft sigh as he slid into the bed next to her. he rested his arms around her waist, bringing her into the warmth of his chest. 

“you’ll be late..” her droopy eyes and flushed nose was trained on him, he felt his heart patter a little bit faster as a small amount of blood rushed to his cheeks.

“they’ll live, i’m more concerned about you right now.” his fingers pulled her hair back into a ponytail, settling the loose strands on her shoulder, “i’ll leave once you’re asleep.” he whispered, bringing his lips to her cheek.

she nodded, smiling up at him before resting her eyes and curling against the pillow. akaashi couldn’t help but run his fingers up and down the expanse of her arm, an attempt to lull her to sleep before he carefully slipped out of bed and turned the lights off, offering her a soft kiss before leaving the house.

12:27 ! azumane asahi

days with him were always tender.

she brushed his hair carefully as he worked on some early sketches of potential collections. his thick fingers were dusted with graphite and blisters as they brushed over the paper below him. their apartment was strewn with loose drawings and photographs, it was an organised mess, but somehow still cozy.

“you’d look nice in this piece actually, i’ll size one for you later.” he muses, holding up the thin sheet of paper up for her to see.

“i like the square neckline, what fabric will you use?” she asked curiously, peering down at the paper through blue light glasses. her fingers ran through his velvet-like strands of hair.

“don’t know, silk maybe?” he glanced up at her, eyes impossibly soft as he smiled gently. “what do you think?”

“i’m not the designer here..” she mumbled jokingly, kissing the nape of his neck before slumping down on the couch next to him. “you shouldn’t slouch, why don’t you work at your desk instead of at the coffee table?”

“lighting’s better here.” his eyes were drawn to her, he couldn’t help but reach out for her hand and gently caress her soft fingers, so unlike his. “and besides, that room is miserable, i prefer staying out here with you.” he admitted, taking a sip from the steaming mug.

“clingy,” she leaned her head on his shoulder, watching as he sketched. his face was brightened by the sun shining down on him, and her heart swelled ever so softly as she gazed up at him. “i think i prefer the new conditioner i bought. my hair feels a bit more silky now.”

“yeah, it looks good.” he glances over at her, eyes still impossibly soft before he checked the time, “it’s almost 12:30, should we prepare lunch?”

she nodded in response, taking his hand as he pulled her off the couch and into his embrace, whispering a sweet nothing into her ear before they continued to their kitchen.

15:05 ! hinata shoyo

shoyo was always exhausted after practice, the last thing on his mind was his normal exuberant personality.

he had a serene smile on his face as she applied thick layers of aloe vera gel onto his skin. there was nothing that he enjoyed more than these tranquil, everyday moments with her. the sun would set a lot earlier during the winter, and he was grateful that he’d be able to utilise a couple more hours with her in their shared apartment during the off season.

“you should come watch my practices” he murmured, voice uncharacteristically soft as he brushed his fingers through his orange hair, “can you apply some to my back, it’s a bit itchy still..” he lifted up the back of his shirt, revealing his tan, muscular back.

“maybe next time, yeah?” her free hand ruffled through his messy hair, letting him melt into her arms. she leaned her head on his shoulder, inhaling his musk of seawater and sunshine. he leaned against the headboard of their bed with a groan, tense thighs and calves relaxing after an excruciating day.

he reached out and pulled her into his arms, pressing multiple kisses against her cheeks & neck, ignoring her relentless giggles. 

“stop sho- that tickles!” she smiled up at him with her eyes creased, and his heart warmed immensely.

“don’t wanna..” he nuzzled against her neck, letting a huff out as his body relaxed on top of hers. “let me practice something.” he’d beg her for this exact thing everyday without fail.

minutes later, the two of them were situated on the ground, hinata grasping onto three chunks of hair which he eagerly tried to braid with. she hummed gently as they conversed about their day, her head occasionally turning towards his and pressing soft, sweet kisses against his chapped lips, receiving flustered, almost awkward giggles in return.

18:55 ! ushijima wakatoshi

his favourite pastime was watching her get ready for bed.

he found it holistic, almost reverent how she’d change into matching pajamas or how on sundays she’d spend a half hour extra in their bathroom. it was so peculiar to him, he’d never seen something like this before.

but he particularly liked standing behind her, leaning against the wall of their bathroom as she meticulously went through each step of her skincare routine, applying miscellaneous gels and creams onto her face which he couldn’t even bear to fathom. she had a little collection of products which she’d use on the daily, ones he had spent a small fortune on, afterall, but they surely did work. there was a soft glow which radiated from her face after she’d finished her routine, a small aspect of her appearance he’d grown to not just love, but appreciate.

sometimes, if he was lucky that night, she’d even let him massage her exfoliating cleanser for her. he found that the grains felt relaxing on his fingertips, but he found the way she’d look up at him with closed eyes utterly endearing, he couldn’t help but let his heart melt and pulse faster then. 

wakatoshi was the epitome of care when it came to her, he wouldn’t dare ruin that half hour she’d set aside for herself every night. but occasionally he’d wrap his arms around her from behind, pressing gentle osculates against her nape as she’d apply her topical creams, he couldn’t help himself.

he’d let out a small smile every time, rubbing his thick fingers into her waist as he watched in awe, he was absolutely infatuated with her. & once she had washed her hands and untied her hair, he was the one to be gracefully pulling her towards the bed and tucking her under the sheets.

21:12 ! kiyoomi sakusa

kiyoomi hated coming home late, but he surely didn’t mind the sight of her wrapped up in their sheets.

the moon shone down on their apartment, the city still bustling as he carefully walked through, not wanting to make a noise. his back was unbearably tense, muscles screaming in agony as he opened the door to their bedroom, almost immediately soothed once he laid eyes upon his partner in a deep state of tranquil in the lonesome of their bed. his heart swelled.

once he’d stripped himself of his sweaty clothes and basked under the warm cascade of their shower, he pulled a black shirt over his head and found a pair of pajama pants to wear, ones which had been the ones to match hers, coincidentally. he brushed his teeth and washed his face, but his heart would beat ever so quicker whenever his eyes would land on her, he found her even more stunning under the moon’s blue light.

before sliding into the bed, he’d gently pressed soft kisses against the skin of her forehead, smiling to himself as he brushed every strand of stray hair away from her face. he was devout when it came to her, with methodical touches was he only able to bring her into his embrace - he was always cold, and she was the only thing able to warm him.

finally, his eyes could close, he was absolutely exhausted. his head nuzzled against her scalp, inhaling the scent of clean, honey fragranced hair. he could rest in this familiarity. with a groan, his arms tightened around her impossibly, but still careful as to not wake her up. sakusa melted into the mattress, letting out tired groans and occasional stirs as he found himself falling asleep.

it still surprised him how easily he could fall asleep now, compared to when he was younger and all alone. 

© heartmaddie all rights reserved. please do not repost my work

[dreambones]

(Reposting over here)

I fully forgot to share this here when I finished it oups.

Happy 10 year anniversary of being made Sulker (a month or so late), which means a much needed updated reference.

Not much has changed, I feel I just polished some details and made it clearer to read, plus half the images are more of a drawing guide to myself so I can stop jumping between past drawings whenever I draw him and have some sort of consistency.

Biggest changes must be his clothes being a more blue gray color instead of brown, the black goo having a teal/green shine instead of white, the multiple pupils when mad/hungry, and glowing teeth of the same color as pupils.

I am currently writing a big document with everything explained, hoping the Slenderverse and Creepypasta fandoms still love reading long, detailed explanations. Meanwhile have a summarized version with the most important parts.

Sulker is a very old slender creature, it is unknown how he came to be and when, only that he has been around the earth for a very long time but not as long as the better known Slenderman. 

A monster that prays on humans mental vulnerability, exploiting their weaknesses in his favor, lures them into surrendering themselves to him. 

An insatiable hunger, enjoyment for others suffering, a voice you will only realize it’s not your own too late. 

This is The Sulker.

Name: Sulker

Also known as: The Sulker, The Sulkerman.

Age: Unknown. First known written documents that mention his existence date back to 1346 during the beginning of the Black Plague.

Personality: Short tempered, volatile, irritable, sarcastic, smug, witty, cynical, has a dark sense of humor and enjoys the failures of others. A sadist, aggressive, with a short patience unless it involves “playing with his food”. 

Easily frustrated and has an almost nonexistent fuse, but he can still tell when someone is just trying to get a reaction out of him.

He is in an almost constant state of hunger that drives him to be often looking to feed himself. Strong hunger puts him on edge, making it harder to deal with him. 

Slender species related abilities: Sulker shares most of Slender's basic abilities, assuming these are common to the “species” with personal variations between individuals.

Slender walking

A form of teletransportation, he can move long distances in the blink of an eye.

Space distortion

Much like Slenderman, he can modify the space around a limited number of humans for a limited amount of time.

Video and picture distortion

Electronic devices can’t capture him correctly, his image will come out blurry, smudged, or similar to burnt film. This occurs with digital cameras and video, however, for unknown reasons film photos and film videos seem to capture his image better.  

Change height and body shape

He can modify his height a couple of feet to make himself taller or shorter (while still out of the ordinary tall for human standards). 

Proxys:

Like many other slenders, he can bestow supernatural traits to normal humans, which in return, ties them to him and his command. This can be voluntarily or against the person's will. 

Abilities specific to Sulker:

Intrusive thoughts:

Sulker has the power to tune into a person's negative thoughts and emotions, and amplify these to unbearable levels. He however can not create negative thoughts, he can only get into their frequency, like a radio signal. 

Just as Slenderman has his dreaded static, upon approaching Sulkerman, voices or whispers can be heard, the intensity fluctuating with Sulker's mood. 

The Black Poison (Black goo):

He produces a thick, black substance that resembles a mix of oil and tar, with teal reflections. It is extremely sticky and frigid to the touch, and when it makes contact with the skin it will leave black stains that take days to remove fully, while it is almost impossible to successfully remove from clothes. 

Sulker is immune to the stickiness, allowing him to manipulate the substance with no issues, and his clothes, although stained, seemed to not stick as one would expect.

The main source of the black poison is Sulker’s tentacles, but it can also be produced from his mouth and eye cavities. 

Stickiness / Sticky webs

Directly tied to the Black Poison, Sulker can manipulate the substance to make traps and occasionally, resting points for himself. 

The black goo is extremely sticky, able to hold an adult human stuck to a wall for an extended period of time. 

Relationships: Sulker is not sociable at all, his meetings with other slenders are purely for “professional” and territory reasons, other than that, he is not one to seek the company of others. 

Despite his temper, he has managed to keep a “polite” relationship with Slenderman, not because he likes him, but because he acknowledges his power and influence, plus the absurd amount of proxies and allies he has. 

However, if the opportunity to overthrow the slender ever presents itself, he won’t hesitate to get rid of him. 

It’s very easy to get on his bad side however, it’s possible, extremely hard but possible, to get on his good side.

Sulker sees humans as cattle and at best, pets, inferior creatures that now and then can be useful or at the very least, amusing. 

Radio: 

Sulker’s proxy and in charge of keeping other proxies updated on tasks and the slenderbeing whereabouts when instructed by Sulker. You can say he is Sulker's spokesperson since the slender being has no interest in communicating with his proxies unless really necessary.

[cak3o]

some doodles for @monsoon-of-art 's megamer au again...so cutes...

talked about fire purring to help the little ones sleep and elec being the sulker ever

[stealingyourbones]

Do you like Danny gets dissected fics? I do, and thinking about those kinds of fics have made me wonder if there are any fics of Danny getting caught by Sulker and getting his pelt removed. Thoughts?

Ooooo interesting.

The main question is like,,, how does Skulker prepare Danny and does he survive the procedure? Is Danny walking around now as a skinless being in indescribable pain, does this make him a full ghost, or does this completely remove him from existence?

[caffeinatedvigilantewriter]

Ok. So Dani and Damian are around 23-26. You can decide. Fair warning this one’s pretty long

So while Dani was traveling the world, she meet Talia Al Ghul.

They became friends(?) and regularly meet up for coffee and tea and such (Dani is not part of the LOA) (Talia wanted to adopt her but she said no) (Dani knows of the LOA but not of Damian. In my mind a demon heir would be confidential information)

Damian leads the Wayne foundations (as well as the Martha and Thomas Wayne foundations) which involves lot of international travel. With his vigilantism and his job, Bruce forces him to put out applications for a secretary. He’s been moonlighting as the Vulture for a couple of years.

Dani, with her years of traveling in now fluent in multiple languages (one of her obsessions) and decided to attend collage in Star City, moving to Gotham after a degree in international business relations.

She applies at Wayne Enterprises for a job, and gets invited for coffee with Talia via coffee message.

Barbara Gordon intercepted the message and sends Damian and Tim to watch her meeting with a mystery person.

They are slightly confused as to Talia is meeting with a seemingly normal civilian. And Damian thinks this that she must be working with the Leauge (no matter how pretty her laugh was)

Talia, who realizes that if Dani won’t allow her to become her daughter, then daughter-in-law is the next best thing.

He realizes how royally he fucked up when Bruce introduces him to his new secretary, Danielle Jane Masters-Fenton.

So now he’s working with a (presumed) LOA assassin, one who’s (probably) infiltrating the company to get to his family. And Talia is try to set them up for some reason.

However, no one believes him when he tells them of his theory. Not even Bruce, who did the actual interview. (He also thought that she would make a good match for Damian, and bonus points if the rest of the family thinks so as well)

Part of Dani’s jobs description is to accompany her boss on international trips, which can take anywhere from 3 days to a week. And it’s pretty difficult when your boss hates you for some reason but can’t fire you because of his dad. Even harder when you’re forced to become a antihero (Vapor) to clean gothams curses and ghost cults and have an odd relationship with the Vulture

There are so many shenanigans that can happen

- Dani and Damian going on a routine business trip and having it run late, plus with the time zones, they are exhausted and forget to book the hotel room. The take the last available room, which happens to have only one bed. Neither one cares.

- mass Arkham breakout, and Dani retunes to work with a fractured left wrist. She says she got injured in the breakout and when Damian goes to her because he’s concerned suspicious he asks her more about it. Dani panics and tells him it was alright because Vapor was there and saved her (she actually got into a brawl with sulker)

~Vulture immediately seeks out Vapor to find out which rouge Dani her and Dani figures out his identity because Damian was the only one she mentioned anything about Vapor to she panicked okay??

- another trip but Damian doesn’t speak the local language (Dani knows more) and the company’s daughter insults Damian to their face because she assumed neither of them spoke the Language. Dani ripped her a new one, and because of her outright hostility (which has never happen before) Damian doesn’t renew the contracts with the company and instead spends the rest of the trip trying to cheer up Dani’s mood.

- Danny. Sam and Tucker all visit her in Gotham and the everlasting trio all go to an animal rights protest that ends up with them in a brawl. Damian also ends up brawling on their side and the four of them get thrown in the same jail cell while they wait for someone to bail them out. Tim arrives for Damian at the same time Dani arrives for the trio. To spite them, Dani and Tim have a long conversation in front of their cell instead of letting them out. (The group approves of Damian)

- a ghost attacks Dani and Damian on their way to the airport, Dani whips out her ghost busting moves. Damian finally decides to admit to himself that he’s in love after watching her tackle a ghost to the ground and make him beg for mercy (technus should’ve known better that to pick a fighter against her. in Gotham. With her crush boss watching)

- Dani kills the Joker, and a member of Black Masks crew saw her, so Vulture was assigned to be her bodyguard of sorts

- Dani is planning an international gala for the Waynes and is very stressed out. So stressed out, that a week before the gala she realized she didn’t think to accommodate for any rouge attacks and spends the next 3 days in her office. Damian eventually drops her sleep deprived butt home.

- Dan visits Dani in her office

- wingman Jon

- International business meeting hosted at WE. Rouge attakd the meeting and Dani gets injured. Damian sees red

- Waynes go to a masked gala in Wisconsin, hosted by Vlad Masters. Dani and Damian share a dance (while wearing masks) and a ghost ruins the party

- M A K I N G O U T W H I L E D R U N K

- Damian figures out Dani’s identity simply because he realizes they laugh and smile the same

- “Danielle.”

“Yeah?”

“Your birthday is coming up, correct?”

“It is, what about it?”

“What would you like?”

“Damian, you don’t have to get me anything.”

“Tt. Ridiculous. What would you like?”

“Get me a (super rare sword from medieval times)” (she was joking)

“Consider it done.” (He was not)

Eventually Ra’s finds out about Dani and her connection to his grandsons and daughter and decides to kidnap her as blackmail.

[joi-vivienne]

4c and squiddo revealed that Spoke gave them duped sulkers full of hearts

Omg

[usedpidemo]

Acquainted (Red Velvet Yeri)

(Thank you for the commission! I hope it's to your liking.)

You’re just about ready to head off to sleep when you check the group chat. This is your nightly tradition. These strangers, now your closest friends despite the anonymity, are active and in good spirits, as usual. Outside of your weekday 9-to-5, these few moments are the most interesting parts of your day, and you just so happen to join during a particularly lively conversation:

> [22:48:01] yerimiese: (posts a link to a red velvet album article)

> [22:48:14] flutter mane: :sanapog:

> [22:48:23] silksong sulker: k-pop is saved

> [22:48:33] wonyoung cockjuicer: ew red velvet

> [22:48:37] wonyoung cockjuicer: wonyoung can peg me tbh

> [22:48:39] irene’s tokki: Bae J:floshedjiggle::floshedjiggle:hyun

> [22:49:06] milf hunter: :floshed:

> [22:49:11] milf hunter: gape sugalo

So of course, you chime in as well.

> [22:50:12] You: lets get it, new rv fancams

You’re in no mood to chat for longer than five minutes, but before you head offline, you receive a private message from your closest friend:

> yerimiese: so when are you in korea again?

> You: Next week, why?

> yerimiese: nice. why don’t we meet up, that would be dope as fuck

> You: You’re in Korea? 

> yerimiese: yeaaaah? why wouldn’t i be? 

> You: I thought you’d be doing other schedules abroad

> yerimiese: nah sm definitely won’t fly us out to film an mv. cheap ass bastards ㅋㅋㅋ

Yerimiese then sends you a video link. It’s a Yeri fancam, her weapon of choice. Your conversations began with small, intimate talks about your personal life, soon transpiring into open fapping, degrading, and casual lewdness with each other. Despite the usually depraved nature of your messages, you both continued sharing snippets of your day to day lives. That’s how close you’ve grown as friends.

> You: Well i’m very tired, today was a long day at work, had to work overtime. No time to lewd, sorry

> yerimiese: it's alright. you did well today

Yerimiese sends you a pic this time. It’s an event; the internet can’t load any quicker. You’re hungry, impatient, dying. Whether it’s intentional or not, the photos she sends whenever you’re tired or stressed out are hotter than her usual swimsuit or photoshoot reel. You’ve shared enough about your daily routine to her that a camera crew might as well be recording you.

It’s nothing out of the ordinary; a simple candid pic of herself lying in bed, her face perfectly cropped out of the background, showing nothing but her body on full display in front of the huge mirror, dressed in skimpy black panties and a white shirt  that accentuates her shapely breasts. As usual, she’s not wearing a bra; you can clearly see her hard nipples demanding all of your attention.

> yerimiese: no need to send a dick pic tonight if you don’t feel like doing it 

You can’t help it. Tired as you are, you feel obligated to send her one. Luckily, every pic she sends is more than enough to make you instantly hard. It feels more guilty not to be turned on, rather. 

It’s a mostly quick and painless affair, powerful enough to put you out of commission within minutes. Even though you’re mentally checked out, Yerimiese’s sexy body is too hot not to crank one out. Taking a pic of your erect cock as you pump yourself to her is second nature; sending it on sticky fingers after you’ve spurted all over your phone and blankets is a different story. There’s no other way to put it, she was the perfect reprieve from the day’s exhaustions—a perfect high note to go out on.

> yerimiese: fuck you’re THROBBING THROBBING tonight :ningasm: your dick looks so damn nice. i can taste your cum through the screen

> You: Happy now? 

> yerimiese: more than, and then some. I wish you were here right now so you could feel how wet I am

> You: Just wait. I can’t wait to fuck you hard. Goodnight

> yerimiese: goodnight

> yerimiese: :tukkwithkiss:

—————

The next time you’re able to communicate with her, you’re one day away from being in Korea. In that period, you’ve been inactive in the group chat because work. What welcomes you back is a barrage of lewd photos and Yeri fancams.

> yerimiese: see you tomorrow :chuupeek:

It’s an open secret that you know she’s Kim Yerim. Yes, that Kim Yerim of Red Velvet fame. It was a giveaway right from the first explicit photo she sent you; those tits in a tight, petite package couldn’t have belonged to anyone other than hers. That, and the fact that her username is the same as her Instagram handle, and that she has a photo of herself in the group as a display pic. How she would end up stumbling into your private K-pop server objectifying her body and her profession is one of life’s biggest mysteries, yet here she is, giving you a very personal look into her shapely figure, better than any fancam and photoshoot could ever provide. To others, she’s merely a casual acquaintance, but to you, she can freely open up herself.

Mainly because you’re one of three people in the group chat that still cares about Red Velvet.

Her latest sent photo is relatively tame; a tight fitting white silk sundress, and the skirt is virtually nonexistent, her panties practically out in the open. Luckily for you, she seems to be sitting down, but not in her usual living room. The notion that this is what welcomes you to Korea, that you’ll be balls deep inside an idol’s pussy right when you land—it ruins you. 

Almost. 

An airport guard manages to break your deep train of thought. “Sir! No phones please,” he sternly commands, saving you from total disaster; you’re inches away from walking straight through a metal detector with your phone in hand, the belt around your pants, and some spare coins lying deep in your pocket after you bought some traditionally expensive bottled water. Luckily, no one manages to see the photo—and even if they did, she’s still smart enough to cut out her face, leaving nothing else to your imagination. 

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about immigration and airport security, it’s that there’s little need for repetition. You go through security four times. At the entrance, after the check-in counter, then within your departure gate, and even before boarding your flight—repetitive. It’s frustrating enough to tell Yerim, to which she responds with more lewd photos of herself. 

> yerimiese: yeah ive been there before ㅋㅋㅋ

> yerimiese: how long’s ur flight?

> You: About 13 hours

> yerimiese: cali?

> You: Yes

> yerimiese: kinda random, but seulgi misses los angeles

> You: How come? 

> yerimiese: something about an ex-boyfriend that i didn’t know about until the other day ㅋㅋㅋ i bet she’ll be jealous when she hears about you coming over just to clap my cheeks ㅋㅋㅋ she’d wish it was her bf instead of you

> You: does she know about this?

> yerimiese: of course not LOL i bet you’d rather fuck her instead of me, so she’ll never know. smh.

> You: That’s not true ur my RV bias since day one!

> yerimiese: stop lying LMAO i don’t blame you tho seulgi has some really toned legs and a nice slappable ass XD anyway, i’m gonna send you something to pass the time while ur onboard

> You: If it’s a masturbating clip i swear to god

> yerimiese: fuck you got me LOL

> You: Goddamit if anyone finds out on a plane of all places…

> yerimiese: i still can’t get over your clip of you jerking to me. i can taste your dick. you’re depriving me by leaving me out to dry for a week ㅋㅋㅋ

> You: You’ve been touching yourself to that clip for a week??

> yerimiese: can’t help myself, album prep has been tiring and i haven’t really found any opportunity to relax in the meantime

> You: I’ll be there soon, just wait a bit longer

> yerimiese: can’t trust me with that, i’m very close to making a huge mess of my hotel room ㅋㅋㅋ

> You: You’re in a hotel?

> yerimiese: just to meet you! I won’t be able to meet you at the airport (duh, idol dating shit), so this is the next best thing. just message me when you’ve landed here, okay?

> You: Sure

—————

It’s ingrained deep within Yerim’s mind. A core memory. If her phone could present count how many times she’s played the clip, it would be over a thousand. 

It’s very straightforward. A 45 second clip of someone masturbating between the sheets, pressing their erect cock against their phone with a brightened image of a scantily clad woman on the screen. But it’s not just any woman, it’s her. She’s pleasuring herself to the idea of a man jerking off to her. She’s following his rhythm, timing the pace her fingers rub her clit to the tempo of the man’s cock pumping to her zoomed-in breasts. 

And she’s mere minutes removed from a conversation with that exact same person.

Slumped against the hotel room walls, her bliss spirals out of control rapidly. Her legs are instinctively spread wide, juices already leaking through her panties and spilling to the floor; that’s how used they are to Yerim’s impulses to pleasure herself. In those brief moments, she imagines how the next few days play out, skipping past the formalities and pleasantries and going straight to the fucking. She moans and shouts as if that very man’s cock is penetrating her pussy hard at this very moment. Her other hand bashes the wall, tongue screaming streams of profanities, as if he’s manhandling her, using her to his personal delight.

“Fuck! Suck those fucking tits!” she screams, slipping one strap of her sundress down to pinch her own tit, enhancing the illusion. Her phone rings; in her mind it's functionally a vibrator. He’s come fully prepared, and she’s riding high knowing that this person is doing exactly what he said in their private messages from the very start.

Yerim drags her fingers along her clit violently, desperate to reach climax, the realization that this is her third orgasm of the day way beyond her. The evidence can be found everywhere: on the soiled bed sheets and in the smell of the shower; she envisions herself getting railed in those parts of the room, and then some—essentially turning the entire hotel room into the backdrop for all of the things he’d do to her: fingers around her throat, sunk into her ass, until it’s red and hurting, the way she’d quiver and cream all over his throbbing cock. Her neediness has no limits; it even breaks past her very own personal quarters, the loudness of her own self-induced pleasure drawing concern from occupants nearby.

Only after the blissful haze of orgasm does everything fall back in place. That repetitive knock on the door is a huge wake up call. Yerim’s eyes widen. 

“Shit.”

She checks her fingers—they’re coated in copious amounts of slick—and after a little further inspection, she realizes the aftermath.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

—————

Being honest about yourself, you couldn’t have asked to feel hornier at a worse time than this. Thirty thousand feet high up in the air, stuck in economy class because you don’t get paid enough to deal with the bullshit back in the office. Using your one of two allowed leaves in the year for a trip to see a girl you’ve mostly known online, and it isn’t even paid. To make things worse, there’s no layovers—just a point-to-point flight from San Francisco to Seoul. 13 hours.

And boy, is the ride absolutely miserable.

By what you might as well call divine intervention, you’re conveniently seated between a nun and a little girl—the two worst kinds of people to be alongside with. No, not because they’re annoying or anything like that; aside from the girl getting up every thirty minutes from her window seat to get something from her parents across the aisle, you’re practically barred access to your glorified archive of lewd Yerim pics. Opening them up with a kid barely in the first grade beside you is openly asking for trouble.

And the few times you get up for a lavatory break, you can’t get yourself going. There’s always someone at the door every five minutes. 

Eight hours deep into the flight, you look over your shoulder, catch one of the male flight attendants sneak inside one of the vacant lavatories with a fellow stewardess while everyone’s fast asleep. Fucking sickening. That should be you with Yerim right now.

When you arrive on the other side of the planet, you’ve gotten only a couple hours’ worth of sleep. You almost fumble your passport at immigration, getting them mixed up with a slew of business and membership cards. Then there’s your forgetfulness working against you, remembering you need some kind of pocket Wi-Fi, and now you have to spend a little more to get back online. It’s a mess, and it wasn’t that long since you were in Europe for a seminar, where these things were merely second nature to you.

At least you remembered that VPNs exist. You message Yerim on the taxi ride out of the airport, unsure of where to begin.

> You: Just got out of immigration

> yerimiese: fuckin finally! 

> yerimiese: you got a place to stay here?

> You: Not yet

> yerimiese: don’t bother, lemme send you my hotel address, you can stay here

Of course you don’t know Korean, despite the constant back and forth with Yerim for months. Learning’s been on the backend of your itinerary, and has never been your top priority, even now. You show the cab driver the address, who merely looks at you and the phone with a particularly vacant and dumbfounded expression, as if you’re stupid for not planning this out—which, in that regard, he’d be correct.

When you finally arrive at the hotel, only one message stands between you and finally meeting Yerimiese, once and for all.

> yerimiese: I’ll be at the poolside, third floor. can’t wait to meet you :P

And that’s exactly where you end up going. Forget that you’re lugging two whole bags and a traveler’s backpack on your shoulders; you drop them off at the front desk, expecting the staff to have a clue of what’s going on and what’s about to happen.

Stepping out into the poolside, it’s a completely barren sight. It’s three in the afternoon on a Tuesday; most people probably aren’t even booked, let alone in this supposed five-star hotel. You don’t really question whether she’s being serious or not, the evidence was in the previously sent photos; you’re dying to meet her at this point. 

And as if perfectly timed for dramatic effect, a woman emerges from beneath the waters, shaking off the wetness from her damp hair.

Yerim casually swims over the deep waters’ edge, without a care in the world, let alone your presence quietly shadowing over the large pool. Even halfway submerged, you can make out the outline of her shapely bust and hourglass figure, tightly hugged by a pink swimsuit. She was sultry and intoxicating to gawk at from candid photos, but seeing Yerimiese herself in the flesh, that’s when the realization hits you: this is happening.

And you can’t move a muscle, let alone react from the actualization that you’re right in front of her. Even as the waves of water splash on your new loafers, you simply observe. It’s creepy, it’s morally dubious, but it’s one in a million. You’re taking in every moment, every second; soak it all in, you’ll never get an experience like this ever again. 

You should be friends by now, if your definition of friendship means sharing explicit body photos and exchanging devious intentions about how you’ll fuck each other online or how much cum you’ve given to each other. But when she turns in your direction—catching you casually observing her, your hands tucked away in your coat’s pocket, grinning like a little kid— it’s back to square one.

Like the very first time.

Yerim takes all the time in the world to wade over from the other side of the pool, her smile growing closer as she approaches you. She lifts her eyebrows, expecting you to make a first move, to which you barely open your mouth, and ultimately only a deep breath, a stilted sigh, comes out.

Well, this is awkward.

Yerim giggles. You’ve previously heard her loud moans and cries, but a genuine laugh—this was your first. She never hops on calls in your group chat, most likely because idol shit, as she often refers to her line of work. Her laughter, her energetic expression—it’s as perfect of a translation to real life as it is online, and embodies the idol Yeri you know on screen. 

“How long have you been standing there?” she asks, trying—and failing—to suppress more of her laughter.

Your answer is concise, but doesn’t seem quite right. “A while.”

In reality, about five minutes. You probably won’t be there any longer when she props herself out of the water with her strong elbows. Water cascades down her shapely figure, thicker and meatier than it's ever been, more than what the cameras and pictures present. She’s truly the entire package, through and through. 

She walks over to her sunlounger, granting you a nice peek of her ass peeking through her skimpy swimsuit before she wraps herself with a towel. Apart from that, your only other notable observation is that she’s soaking wet, even bundled up. That, and also: she’s barefoot. No sign of slippers or any footwear—she willingly walked on what appears to be scorching cobbled floors.

“I would give you a big hug right now, but you know—” she comments, looking down at her drenched self, pool water endlessly dripping down to her feet. Even if she isn’t soaking wet, you’d still be frozen in place, or even worse, some eagle-eyed stranger or Dispatch reporter catch you in secret and you both end up on national news the very next day.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” you say, trying to dodge Yerim’s eyes. “I left my stuff at the front desk. I should probably go and grab them.”

“Smart.” Yerim sizes you up, nodding in amazement at how you’ve managed to get yourself past the entrance. “See you upstairs, then? Room 1015.”

—————

The difference between you and Yerim couldn’t be any more obvious.

Granted, you’re fresh off a 13 hour flight, followed by an hour's travel from the airport to a five-star hotel in the heart of Seoul. Yerim had all the time in the world to prepare, and yet when she emerges from the bathroom in nothing but a modest bathrobe and her dark hair bundled up, she’s never looked better. 

Facing an idol in such a haggard condition, it gives you an underlying feeling of shame. And if you’re being completely honest, if not for your cock, she’d probably be repulsed and call security on you.

But there's no security in sight. Just you, just yeri, the two of you standing in this room - which is, for the most part, quite nice. Multiple bedrooms, a lovely view of the city beneath you, and all sorts of amenities and features you’ll never get to use—you half expect her members to come in later, but perhaps for your sake, you’re better off with just her and her alone.

When Yerim begins to talk, she rambles. She goes on about the status of the next album, discussions about a possible solo debut, her relationships with her members—conversations about topics that you never really had online. It was mostly dirty talk and lewd captions. At best, you knew each other at a surface level, but here she is, sharing everything from her heart like you’ve been lifelong friends since day one.

You let her. She’s as charismatic as what she portrays on screen, and her sass is no different than the private messages she sends you. There’s not a single dull moment whenever Yerim speaks. Though you know her mostly for her body, her personality is what has you sticking around.

You wonder if she feels the same way about you.

“So, how’d you find out about us?” Yerim asks, after blabbering for a while, and you genuinely believe she’d keep going till nightfall. Close enough. Five minutes away from five in the afternoon, and you’d already spent the last hour and a half listening to a personalized podcast from her. You hope she doesn’t notice the plate of bulgogi on the table now completely empty.

“Well, a friend was a K-pop fan and had an extra ticket when you toured here,” you say, casually, slumped on the sofa. “Forgot how long that was—” you pause, “five years ago?”

“Five years? Five years since we went to America?” Yerim appears flabbergasted, face in utter disbelief at the passage of time. The realization causes her to stand from her chair. You’d be too after listening to her drone on endlessly. “Fuck.”

“SM! Give us a fucking world tour already!” she screams, pretending she’s inside the company building and you’re an executive in the room. Watching her snarkiness come to life never ceases to amuse you. You’ll let her go on for as long as she needs to; she’s entertaining in such a unique and charming way that it disarms you.

“Argh, sorry, you know me.” She suddenly stops, faces you, arms crossed, mocking up a pout. “Look at me suddenly losing my shit for no good reason.”

“Are your members used to this?”

That didn’t come out right.

She bats an eyelid. On her face is a mild, blank look of displeasure. That didn’t come out right. 

“Used to what?”

“Well, uh, I—I mean—”

You gulp your throat.

“Stop.”

Then, an air of awkward silence. Her eyes quickly scan you, lazing on the sofa.

“Let’s just get to fucking each other right now.”

—————

It isn’t that you’ve forgotten the one purpose you’re there to begin with, it’s that Yerim is very, very impulsive. One moment, upset at her company for doing the bare minimum for her group and her career, the next she’s using you as an outlet to release her frustrations. It’s a good thing your first impression of her was that she was very busty, because otherwise, the other description you had of her was—simply put—bratty.

You’re on your back, plopped against one of the beds, completely caught off-guard by her show of strength. Eyes rolled to the back of your head, you find Yerim already at the bed’s edge, loosening the belt around her waist, quickly disrobing herself within seconds. It’s nothing new; you’ve seen glimpses of her nude figure in pictures, imagined many scenarios where you’ve got your hands on her, but this—to see her completely bare in the flesh—is new. 

This is different. 

“Just so you know,” you mutter, frantically panting, your heart jumping, as Yerim undresses in front of you, “I haven’t actually had sex before.”

Just like that, the mood instantly changes. She stops. Abruptly.

“What?” 

Her mouth drops—again. Might as well stay agape. 

You consider retracting your statement. It was a joke, you’d say, something to get her even more aroused, fired up. The sex would be wilder, hotter than anything your fantasies would conjure. Then again, you wouldn’t be in this exact situation if you weren’t so chronically online, simping over pop idols like a kid about to enter puberty.

“I guess that’s to be expected,” she comments, snarkily, grabbing the edges of your pants, daring to rip them off you. “That’s fucking life, baby!” 

If you were in her shoes, obsessively waiting for someone with equally unhinged horniness, expressing precisely how you’d get fucked every single time you’d send a remotely lewd photo, you’d feel just as disappointed. You can tell by her partially scornful expression: she’s been fantasizing this moment as much as you have, too. You can’t blame her, but you kind of expected her to anticipate this; after all, you connected in a private group chat that’s been sexualizing her, of all places. 

Surely the signs of virginity were right there.

“At least this is real,” she says, leaning her head forward while cupping your growing bulge poking through your trousers. Your tip, at full mast, mere inches away from her chin, instead of a little phone screen. She’s pushing you around, growing slightly more mischievous and uncontrollable with the prospect of throwing someone like you around instead of the opposite. Something her members may have taught and ingrained in her. 

It isn’t quite the picture you expected from all the erotic snapshots and clips she’s been sending you. Every photo and video, designed to rouse the filthiest and wildest of your thoughts, was an act, a ruse to let your guard down, to give you this fixed headcanon that you can toss her around like she’s your personal plaything and object of pleasure. Instead, she’s using you for her own desires and wants.

It’s not that you don’t want her to use you and fuck you like this, it’s how completely in control she is that has you reeling, leaves you in a dizzy spell.

“I was gonna let you use my pussy and fuck me to ruin,” she says, playfully rolling her eyes, teasing and mocking. Her hand grips around the denim of your bulge, and it fucking stings. You’re sucking on loose air. “But since we have a virgin over here, I’m gonna do whatever I want.”

The implied connotation is what terrifies you, and no, it isn’t the revelation that Yerim isn’t a virgin—you assumed that much—but the notion that you were gonna have free reign over her cunt that has you contemplating some deep, long forgotten life decisions that set you back years. Their consequences are now starting to show.

She releases her ironclad grip on your pants, frees you of your obstructive clothing, both trousers and boxers down to the floor. Your hard cock springs free, terribly aching, already red and sore from her suffocating clench, and already leaking bursts of precum. The last day and a half hasn’t been kind to your cock.

To add insult to injury, she makes this licking motion with her tongue, aimed at your tip, but relents at the last minute. It leaves your throbbing cock aching harder, without any point of relief. The teasing sight almost renders you unconscious, and sends Yerim into a laughing frenzy. 

“Remember when I said I could taste your cock?” she says, chuckling. It’s not playful in the slightest—quite the opposite, in fact. It’s sinister. “I’ll wait a little longer to taste it. Don’t worry.”

Not the most reassuring of words, especially when you’ve got your hands tied—at least, not yet. Actually, you appreciate that she isn’t going to milk your cock dry just yet; when you finally look past the situation at hand, you come to treasure her chest. Her shapely chest, freely bouncing while she bounces her thick body on your lap—keep doing that, you say inside your mind, letting your wandering gaze soak in the unreal scene. 

She notices your intrigued eyes, rising and falling in rhythm with her tits. Subtlety was never your intention, and she probably knows from experience, as she says she does. Fixated attention is how she gets herself off, based on how she seems to respond to the lewd messages you’ve sent her in the past, and it shows when she repeats some choice remarks back to your face:

“I’d kill my boss to fuck those tits right now, you’re so goddamn sexy.”

She grips a hand around your throat, another down to the buttons of your shirt, pulling them apart. 

“Let me be your personal titty towel.”

Halfway there.

“I’d suck on your tits first, go down on your delicious pussy, then fuck that wet hole of yours three times straight.”

Just like that, you’re both even. Equal in nakedness.

You’re unsure whether it’s the sight of Yerim asserting her dominance over you, tits all up in your face with a devious smirk as she bares you down to your essentials that’s leaving you short on air, or if it’s the hand cautiously coiled around your neck. Either option seems sensible enough. This is how she lives in your head rent free, just being her sassy, sexy self. Even repeating some of the same particularly questionable lewd things you’ve written to her sounds hot with her brazen tone. 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she raises an eyebrow, leaning her head close, as if demanding an answer. 

Really, there’s no multiple choice here. Of course you nod.

She rolls her hips upward, inches her body across yours little by little, til her dripping pussy completely shadows your view. Her hand grabs the back of your head, meaty thighs pressing between your face. Now you’re truly suffocating. Even with the rather shameful admission, she rolls her crotch on your lips, expecting you to know what to do. No words, just the expectant grind of her crotch on your face, her wet folds opening up for you to take them.

Then, she begins moaning. 

Admittedly, the closest you’ve had to trying out oral is using your phone as an outlet for your tongue whenever she sends a boob photo. Thankfully, your inexperience doesn’t show when you first dip your tongue inside her folds, getting your first taste of pussy. Saltier than you expected, but fuck, you’d be lying if you think it wasn’t completely intoxicating—everything you hoped for, and more. 

It incites a few expressive reactions from Yerim—some loud, others quieter—with the end result usually a sharper, deeper grind of her waist on your face, splaying her cunt for you to devour. You’ve got one hand pressed on her ass, holding her plump flesh down while the other is at her mercy, pulled by hers, forced to squeeze her breast. You won’t complain. Not when her cries of pleasure motivate you to push yourself harder.

You repeat this addictive cycle, stretch moments into minutes, minutes into hours. Even when you’ve drained her completely, you’ll still be craving for more of her; that’s how hungry she’s made you. Your tongue meets her clit, and it draws out this especially sharp whine that she’s never hit once. Not on a track. Not anywhere. She swears up a storm, juxtaposed between soft, gentle pleas of “yes, more, and you’re so good.” 

In return, you take more of her, soak yourself in the continuous downpour of her slick juices freely flowing all over your mouth and tongue. As her pleasure escalates, her fingers tighten their grasp on your head, grab your tousled hair. You add soft, intimate kisses between streaks of licking her folds, and they send the young idol writhing, shaking atop you. Her words have been reduced to nothing but short, needy bursts of “please.” Even in this uncontrollable state, she gyrates her hips around you, rhythm steady, but more determined than ever to let herself go.

By the way her pussy throbs, you’re certain she’s a few critical points away from climax. It doesn’t change your plans, not one bit. You continue to lap at her sensitive folds, bask in her intoxicating heat, purposefully teasing her clit. She won’t demand that you end her —not this quickly, not when you’ve magically learned the art of giving oral to a woman under short notice.

You slowly work her through it. Your tongue dives into her slick entrance, deeper than it's ever been so far. The overpowering sensations send ripples that reach even the foundations of the bed, unlike anything it’s ever felt. Even in the wild throes of bodily pleasure, Yerim has enough willpower to stay in character, delivering a demand in her usual playful, fast talking tone. “Please do it! I’m going to cum!”

You contemplate the thought, completely drunk in her divine taste yourself, but you oblige. 

Your tongue sticks to her bud, and it causes this instantaneous, elaborate chain reaction. Yerim cries a sharp cry, waves of orgasm washing down all over her body. She stops in her tracks, completely rigid, mouth wide open, and this torrential gush of slick and orgasm swamps you, drowning you so deep that it's nearly fatal. Her thighs involuntarily clench tighter, too, and you’re temporarily trapped in your own pocket dimension, impossible to clean with all the cum left behind, especially on the sheets.

The most surprising observation from her orgasm is how suddenly calm it becomes. Only the sound of your tongue licking her clean can be heard, and it’s nothing but a gentle rustle. She hangs her head up, face completely flushed, catching needed oxygen in her lungs, letting the aftermath of her climax pass over. 

While her breath normalizes, she lifts herself up, moves to the side of the bed. In her wake, she’s left behind a drenched lake of slick around your face, leaking down to the muddled sheets beneath you. 

“Well,” she says, panting and pausing for air. “There goes the other bed.”

It doesn’t take rocket science to figure out what she meant. Even when you’re still mindlessly occupied by the sticky residue around your lips. You let out this muffled exhale, designed to be a laugh, but it backfires in your face. Amused, she giggles on your behalf.

“Not bad.” Yerim smiles at you. Charming and cute, a contrast to what had just transpired. “I thought you said you never had sex?”

It takes you a moment before you answer back, “I haven’t. You just taste really good.”

“You still have some left on the edges of your face,” she comments, her eyes mesmerized by how much she’s cum all over you. “Let me help you clean that up.”

And she helps, but not in a conventional way. She lifts you from the bed by your torso, then submerges you again, this time at the mercy of her bosom. You’ve got your arms wrapped around her waist while you’re kissing and sucking on her Yerim’s  tits, not exactly tidying up, but creating a larger mess that no amount of tongue cleaning can resolve. 

In the meantime, she whispers in your ear some of your more—questionable—comments:

“They need to give her a solo debut with a very sexy concept and trust me, I’ll be the guy who breaks the world record for jerking off if they do that.”

“It must feel heavy to carry them all the time. Let me lend a hand to you.”

“The only thought I had inside my mind when I saw her is every member would milk her 3x a day so that they don’t have to go outside and buy milk to eat cereal to the point they would just drink it from the source.”

You stop. You give her this strange, confused look. Even you couldn’t believe you said that.

“Did I actually say that?”

“Yes!” she replies, quick and straightforward, unable to hide her enthusiasm, while brushing your hair. “Not gonna lie, that sent me to the floor. I was laughing so hard, Irene ran in to check up on me!”

To make things worse, she flashes this wide, toothy grin that makes you regret your life choices. 

“God. I don’t wanna drink anymore.”

“Hey, if there’s any consolation, you wouldn’t be sucking on my tits and eating me out now if you never made that comment,” she says, caressing your chin and giving you a peck on the lips. As if it’s still not one of the most out of pocket comments you’ve ever made about anyone, let alone a celebrity—and you weren’t fully yourself.

“Relax. Don’t think about it too much.” Yerim pushes you back down to the bed, crawls atop you, meeting your lips again for an intimate kiss. Your hard cock, which has been left unattended for quite a while, captures your attention—and especially hers. “Lean back for me, will you?”

You comply. Involuntarily, your legs straighten, but Yerim pushes them apart, places herself at center view, seemingly ready to take you in her mouth. It makes sense; a woman with a mouth that runs like hers probably only stops when there’s cock stuffed inside them. The theory proves to be plausible when she gives your sensitive tip a delicate, yet dangerous lick, her eyes glinting at you with renewed vigor and lust.

“I told you I’d have a taste of that cock,” she says, half smug, half seductive, gloating with her brows. Your tenseness slightly recedes—until you realize your cock’s moving past her lips, in the direction of the space between her cleavage. “I didn’t say I wanted to suck on it.”

And she was right—not once has she ever expressed her desire to choke, gag, deepthroat on it. 

You grit your teeth, watching your cock disappear between her shapely tits, with Yerim personally making sure you comfortably fit like a glove. You fold. It’s snug. Hot. Breathtaking.

“Fuck, Yeri,” you mutter, closing your eyes as her inviting warmth leaves you weak in the knees, trembling. You don’t realize you’ve used her stage name over her real name. “God—”

“Does this feel like everything you wanted?” she asks, tone sultry and triumphant. A little slide up sends you into a frenzy.

You nod—even though there’s no other available options. The erotic image in front of you is permanently seared into your head: Kim Yerim, popular idol and to an extend, your ‘friend with benefits,’ grinning like a maniac, slowly fucking your cock between her tits, coated with your saliva, sweat, and copious amounts of precum. To think your little crude messages on a random forum would have such long term and drastic consequences such as this.

Not that you’d want to make sense of it all, especially when she gets into a rhythm. Sliding her breasts up and down, she’s delicate, intentional, and masochistic; you’re on the receiving end of how she felt when you were slowly eating her out. She’s dangerous, teetering between the line where your cock can be safe between her bosom and where she can break you in half. You’re already falling apart—and fast.

“Holy shit, Yerim. Fuck.” 

Each word you deliver is long and drawn out, especially the profanities. Heavenly music to her ears. She’s out of reach where you can pull by her hair, so you settle for the sheets instead. Your gaze wanders, travels everywhere but in her direction, because you don’t need to see the tortuous scene happening between your legs. Looking at the descending sun, this is probably the last time you’ll see the sun set in your life.

Her eyes challenge you to look at anywhere from her. Panting frantically, you find yourself at the mercy of Yerim’s whims, your cock fading and swelling into view, sticky and wet, gushing cum all over her tits. The sight drives you further mad, has you making sounds that have never been recorded—ever. She takes you in, delights in your suffering, eager for you to say the magic words.

“Ready to cum? I know you want to cum.” 

Even under duress, you’re not ready to fold just yet. There’s a little stubbornness inside you fighting back, pulling all the stops to keep you from surrendering to Yerim’s demands. You close your eyes, grip on the sheets even tighter, control your breathing, but it’s too little too late. You can only do so much with two hands.

“Cum for me.”

You hold onto a particularly deep breath, desperate to cling to whatever dying vestiges of control there is left, but your fate has already been sealed from the moment you’ve allowed your cock to enter her chest.

“Yerim, I—”

The exhale you release is the most relieving and satisfying. With it, comes out a rope of thick, creamy cum splashed all over her neck and chest. The aching, violent sensation doesn’t stop; more seed spills between the warmth of her cleavage. In one fell swoop, you feel all of your energy sapped from you, leaving you completely weak and powerless. 

In the gap between your climax and post-orgasm haze, you wonder if she’ll take some of your cum in her mouth, with the way she looks at your cock as it throbs beneath her chin. No. She lets it drip down her perfect naked body with a sticky white sheen that glows under the natural light piercing through the hotel’s window. 

“Just like that, hm,” she comments, casually flicking the last of your withering orgasm and cum with her wrist. She lathers the slick on her fingers on her shoulder, then places some into her mouth for a taste. 

After you regain a semblance of normalcy—after Yerim’s finished entertaining herself with your cum, staring at her coated body and fingers with curious interest—she rests her elbows on your knees, in the process of relearning how to bend. You sink back against the headrest, watch as the fading sun glimmers on an idol like her, destined to shine for every occasion possible—on the stage and under the afterglow of sex. She smiles, bright and wide, taking you in, as you are.

There’s something brewing, especially in the tender few minutes that follow. Something special, something more than just a spark. 

“So—” Yerim runs a sticky finger on your knee, dangerously close to stirring up your cock again. “You wanna try anal with me next?”

You pause. Widening your eyes, staring back with a look of disbelief. Just when you’re about to open your mouth to reply, she adds:

“Kidding. You do know that you’re gonna have to delete those tweets and comments, right? If they find out you’re here, you’re fucked. And I mean, a thousand times worse than now.”

—————

(A/N: This was an absolute joy to write. The nature of the request meant I could go very meta with it. About time we get a proper Red Velvet full album, so perfect timing! If you're able to figure out some of the references and easter eggs, then you, my friend, are too engrossed in the Tumblr K-pop male reader smut lore. Thank you for reading!)

(P.S. If you want to have your own story/idol written, you can ask for a commission :D)

[zeroseuniverse]

Zerobaseone as what type of jealous they get if you know what I mean (English isn't my first language sorry)

𝗭𝗕𝟭 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: 𝗧𝘆𝗽𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗝𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗼𝘂𝘀𝘆

Jiwoong – The Cold Shoulder Expert

Jiwoong’s jealousy is silent but lethal. If he’s feeling jealous, he won’t argue or complain—he’ll just go quiet. He won’t be cold exactly, but he’ll be more distant than usual, answering in short replies and avoiding eye contact. You’ll have to pull him aside and ask what’s wrong before he finally mumbles, “I just didn’t like how close they were to you.” Once you reassure him, though, he’ll soften and pull you into his arms, murmuring, “You’re mine. Just remember that.”

Zhang Hao – The Passive-Aggressive Tease

Zhang Hao doesn’t get openly jealous, but his sarcasm sharpens when he does. If he sees someone getting a little too comfortable around you, he’ll drop comments like, “Oh wow, should I give you two some alone time? I wouldn’t want to be in the way.” He won’t make a scene, but the playful edge in his voice is undeniable. He'll also be just a little more clingy afterward—throwing an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a conversation, or casually reminding you why he's the one you’re with.

Hanbin – The Silent Observer

Hanbin isn't the type to make a big deal out of jealousy, but it doesn't mean he doesn't feel it. He'll sit back, watching you interact with someone else a little too closely, his usual bright expression dimming slightly. He won’t say anything at first, just quietly taking mental notes. Later, though, he’ll become extra affectionate—pulling you closer, touching your hand absentmindedly, subtly reminding you that you’re his. "You seemed to be having fun with them," he’d say with a soft chuckle, but there’s a lingering question in his eyes.

Matthew – The 'Acts Cool But Fails' One

Matthew tries so hard to act unbothered when he’s jealous, but the moment you give someone else too much attention, his bright energy dims. He’ll cross his arms, press his lips together, and pretend to be totally fine—except he keeps sneaking glances your way. If you catch him sulking, he’ll try to play it off, “Jealous? Pfft. Me? No way.” But the second you give him attention, his mood immediately shifts, and he’s all smiles again.

Ricky – The Possessive One

Ricky's jealousy is intense but controlled. He doesn’t need to say much—his body language does all the talking. A hand on your waist, standing just a little too close, a sharp glance at whoever is trying to get your attention. He won’t lash out, but his presence alone is enough to make the other person back off. Later, in private, he’ll tilt your chin up and ask, “You know you’re mine, right?” in that low, confident tone that sends shivers down your spine.

Gyuvin – The Overdramatic Sulker

Gyuvin is the type to get jealous and then act like you’ve personally betrayed him. He’ll sigh dramatically, slump onto the couch, and pout at you until you ask what’s wrong. “Oh, nothing… just wondering if I’m still your favorite person,” he’d mumble, sneaking peeks to see if you’re giving him attention. He won’t let it go until you baby him, and once you do, he’ll grin like he won a prize. “I knew you loved me the most.”

Gunwook – The Unintentional Intimidator

Gunwook doesn't even realize how scary he looks when he's jealous. He could be completely silent, arms crossed, but his glare is enough to make the poor soul talking to you rethink their life choices. He won’t say anything in the moment, but the way he pulls you closer, leans in a little more when talking to you, or keeps a firm hand on your lower back speaks volumes. Later, though, he’ll sheepishly admit, “I didn’t mean to look so scary… but they were getting too close.”

Taerae – The Annoyingly Cute One

Taerae’s jealousy isn’t intimidating—it’s more like a clingy puppy. He’ll whine playfully, dramatically wrapping his arms around you and complaining, “Why are you giving them more attention than me? I feel so neglected.” If you don’t reassure him right away, he’ll keep up the antics—nudging your cheek with his nose, dramatically sighing, or even interrupting conversations just to insert himself. He’s shameless about needing your attention, and honestly, it’s kind of adorable.

Yujin – The Subtle Shade Thrower

Yujin isn’t confrontational when he’s jealous, but oh, does he know how to throw shade. If someone is talking to you a little too much, he’ll casually slip in, “Oh, do you need help with something? No? Then why are you still here?” with the sweetest smile. He’ll act innocent, but the way he sticks by your side for the rest of the day makes it obvious.