bunn | 般若

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Hannya: Act II 執着 (Shūchaku) - Attachment

Summary: She was kind to you because Tsuki made sure she would be. Everything you mistook for choice was a door she opened.

Tags: Tsuki (Billlie) & Kwon Eunbi (iz*one) x Male Reader (Named OC) | Wordcount: 12,414~ | Supernatural, Smut, Corporate Drama

A/N: There's a moment in this chapter where I get exactly what I asked for. I don't think you're going to like me much by the time you see what happens in the middle of it. Hey, you. I'm back. You probably remember me. Bunn is back at it; hope you didn't wait too much. This might be the last time he posts on schedule. Same arrangement: you're in my head, Tsuki's in the comments, I am sorry about both. Leave a comment whenever I fuck up or say something you agree with. Tell me at the end if you would have done it differently. You can directly address us in the replies if you're into that. -日の出 明宏

Recommend Reading This On Fanprose.

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

Fuck you’re so tight. You whisper to your monthly budget after spending three thousand dollars. You then realize it is in your best financial interest if you just died yesterday.

That’s what the plate costs. You’d balked at the number when you researched it, but then you’d calculated the potential return on investment and transferred the money anyway (you’re starting to feel like you don’t have a choice in Tsuki’s games). 

It’s just a month of eating nothing but instant ramen, all good.

Now you’re standing in the Park Hyatt ballroom, nursing champagne you’re forced to carry around, scanning the crowd for a woman you’ve never actually seen.

Kwon Eunbi. Runs the family’s venture fund. Daughter of Kwon Minjun, the shipping magnate who built an empire from a single cargo container and what your research politely categorized  “aggressive business practices.”

You’ve perused her resume. You know her role in this game of thrones. Her mask is still on and you’ve yet to see her true face.

She keeps a low profile which means no socials—no press conferences; a ghost to people who are not in the same tax bracket. The only photo you found was from a Harvard alumni newsletter, grainy and five years old, mostly obscured by a podium. Smart, probably. When your family’s net worth has eleven digits, anonymity is a luxury worth protecting.

Your phone buzzes. You’re not surprised anymore.

But this time it isn’t Tsuki.

Kim Jiwoo · Seoul Financial Review · Voicemail (3)

Three voicemails. Three. From a journalist whose byline alone makes lawyers nervous. This is fine. You silence the phone in your pocket and pull it out again, this time braced for what comes next.

般若: stop looking so constipated

般若: show them that you belong here

般若: act like it Akihiro-kun~

You glance around the room. She’s nowhere to be found. Of course, she’s never anywhere until she wants to be. You give up trying to figure it out.

You slide your phone in your pocket and try to actually look like you belong.

Nope. It doesn’t work. Who am I kidding?

Three people you recognize from past industry events have already done the classic Tokyo Sidestep: That maneuver when someone spots you; calculates the reputational cost of association; and then suddenly discovers the most fascinating painting on the opposite wall.

The gratitude of the finance world. So fickle. Truly heartwarming.

You’re contemplating whether the open bar is worth the walk across the room when someone appears at your elbow.

“You look like a man who’s doing math he doesn’t want to do.”

The words hit you like a slap. You turn, half-expecting dark eyes and that dangerous smile.

But the woman standing there is nothing like Tsuki.

“Sorry”, you manage. “What?”

She’s short. Barely reaches your shoulder, even in heels. But she carries herself like she’s six feet tall, shoulders back, chin lifted, taking up space in a way that makes you notice her despite her size. Her face is open and expressive, eyes bright with amusement, mouth curved into a smile that’s warm instead of cunning.

“You’re doing calculations.” She points and gestures at your face with her champagne glass. “I can see the spreadsheets running behind your eyes. Let me guess. Cost-benefit analysis of whether the networking potential justifies the plate price?”

“More or less.”

“The answer is no, by the way. The people worth talking to at these things don’t care about the gala. They come for the after-parties.” She extends her hand. Her grip is firm, warm, no hesitation. “Kwon Eunbi.”

Kwon…

Kwon!

Your brain, still hungover from a week of Tsuki’s games, takes a full three seconds to catch up. This is her. The daughter. The one Tsuki pointed you toward.

“You’re…”

“The chairman’s daughter. Yes.” She’s still smiling, and finally lets go of your hand. “And you’re Hinode Akihiro. The Ishikawa refugee father won’t stop talking about.”

“Your father…”

“Mentioned you, raved about you even. Multiple times over dinner, actually. Something about discretion, and restructuring and a man who actually reads the fine print.” She tilts her head, studying you so openly that it’s almost unsettling after Tsuki’s constant obscurity. “He said you seemed like someone who could be trusted. And hmm. I wanted to see that for myself.”

“And? What do you think so far?”

“Hmmm. I’m not sold yet.” She’s still smiling; the corner of lips reaches her eyes. “Buy me a drink or two and improve your odds.”

You’re already walking toward the bar before you realize you’re doing it. I hope she likes water because that’s all you can afford right now.

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

She’s an animated yapper; talks with her whole face and her hands. 

That’s the first thing you notice. Everything she says comes with gestures: pointing, waving, occasionally touching your arm with her soft, warm hands when she’s making a point. 

Normally, it would be annoying. It isn’t; far from it.

“Harvard was a blast but academically, it was fine,” she’s saying, swirling her wine. “The MBA was useful. But true education was watching my father breeze through a hostile takeover when I was just fifteen: Boardroom politics, shareholder manipulation, the art of knowing which knife goes in which back—and when to twist it.” She grins. “You don’t learn that in business school.”

“Uh… Your father seems…”

“Ruthless? Yeah, of course he is. But, he is also fair, which I understand might be hard to believe.” She sets her glass down. “He’s a man who respects competence. Maybe that’s why he’s drawn towards you.”

“He doesn’t know me that well yet.”

“He knows your work. The Taniguchi restructuring, that was all you, wasn’t it? Everyone assumed it was Matsuda leading, but the footnotes told a different story.”

You blink. Closed your mouth you didn’t know opened. The Taniguchi deal was four years ago. Buried in the middle of your tenure, overshadowed by bigger clients, and flashier wins. You’d honestly forgotten anyone outside the firm even knew about it.

“Wait, how did you…”

“My father taught me that truth lives in what people don’t say out loud.” She leans in, conspiratorial, and you notice the curve of her neckline, the fullness suggested beneath her understated black dress. You look away before she catches you. “Font-size twelve is for show. It’s theatre. The real story is buried in font-size eight, where details are synonymous to the truth.”

“And what did you find buried about me?”

“That you’re thorough… you’re careful. That you caught three errors in the Taniguchi financials that could have tanked the whole deal, and you fixed them behind the scenes without stealing the show.” She sits back. “It’s a rare quality you showed there. Most people would have made a scene. You just.. Played your part. And you played your part well.”

Your shoulders drop. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding them so tight. 

“It wasn’t my intention to look noble,” you say. “I just wanted to get the job done, move on, and close the deal.”

“No need to minimize your accomplishments Hinode-san.” She flags down a waiter, orders something in rapid Korean that you don’t catch. “To pose as a noble man is easy. Literally anyone can look noble with an audience. Continuing to do so when no one’s watching? That’s the quality of a man I look for.”

The waiter returns with two small plates. Some kind of appetizer. Looks expensive, it has caviar on it so it must be. She pushes one towards you.

“Eat. You look like you’ve been running on coffee, instant ramen, and spite for a week.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re clearly lying.” She picks up her fork, takes a bite, side-eyes you until you do the same. “There. Was that so hard Hinode-san?”

It wasn’t. The food is good—sooo fucking good. You’re famished, actually. It’s been the most normal food you’ve eaten in days. You’d skipped multiple meals just to save up for the plate fee.

“My father wants to meet you properly,” she says. “Not in this gala. Somewhere we can actually talk. I’m flying to Seoul on Wednesday. You should come with.”

“I… what?”

“You sound like I’m taking you hostage.” She laughs, nothing like Tsuki’s. Bright and loud and unbothered by who might hear. “It’s a business opportunity, Hinode-san. The family has some restructuring needs. Complicated, sensitive, the kind of thing that requires someone who reads between the lines and doesn’t make scenes.”

“You don’t know me all that well yet.”

“I know enough.” She meets your eyes; holds them. “The question is whether you’re willing to go tit-for-tat. Full disclosure, Hinode-san: I don’t do slow. So… are you in or should we go back to pretending we’re enjoying our time in this gala as just acquaintances.”

What is this? You’re taken aback by the directness. It’s the opposite of Tsuki: She’s not an abyss with the sole intention of manipulating you. Just a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it wholeheartedly.

“Why me?” you ask. “Your father could hire anyone, firms or people without scandals attached to their names.”

“Because the firms are slow and people who play safe are boring.” She leans forward, and you catch a hint of her perfume. Airy floral with a hint of citrus and musky notes; subtle, and expensive. Not loud, nothing you can name, like the whisper she imparts: “And I’ve talked with your old firm and one thing is consistent when they mention you: he’s good, but he’ll never make partner because he refuses to play the game.”

“That’s not a compliment at all.”

“Of course it is.” Her hand finds your arm again. “The game is rigged anyways. I don’t need someone who plays it. I need someone who wins despite it.” 

The words land somewhere deep and you just had to take a mental note on it.

“Before I give my answer. There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask.”

“You can ask me anything. Whether I answer is a different question.”

“Why venture capital? With your family’s resources, you could easily do anything. Run a division. Start your own company. Why spend your time evaluating other people’s dreams when you can just build on the foundations you already own?”

Her eyebrows lift. 

“Because building something from scratch is terrifying,” she says. “And I like being terrified.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Sure it does. My father built his empire from nothing: Started with one shipping container, made a lot of friends and enemies, and faced it all head on. By the time I was born, we had everything. Money, power, the whole package. I’ve never had to struggle for anything in my life.”

“Most people would call that lucky, privileged, and being blessed.”

“Most people get it wrong.” She sets her wine down, her expressions stiffen. “I refuse to be a nepo baby coasting life carefree on comfortable ground. That’s how people get soft, weak, and they start believing they deserve things they never earned.” She picks up her glass, takes a sip, and leans back; watching you. “I’ve seen my cousins live like that. Drowning in money, no clue how to survive without it. I’d rather burn than end up like those pathetic losers.”

“So instead you chose the hardest path to get there?”

“I chose a path that scares me. Venture capital isn’t hard, it’s just math and trusting your gut instinct. But every investment is a bet. Every bet can fail. And every failure is mine. Not my father’s. Not my family’s. Mine.” She takes another sip of her wine. “I needed something that was mine.”

“Ishikawa wasn’t mine,” you say. “It only felt like it was. I gave it twelve years. I worked my ass off, but when everything fell apart… they cut me out like I was nothing. Like I’d never been there at all. Like everything I’ve done isn’t the reason why we’re up there in the first place.”

“That’s what happens when you build someone else’s house.” Her eyes lock in on yours. “You’re never going to do that again, are you?”

“No.”

“Good boy.” She finishes her wine. Sets down the glass with a decisive click. “Then we’re quite the compatible pair, aren’t we?”

Your heart did a thing. Your body who you’ve trusted all these years betrays you as well. Those combinations of words are not what you’d expect in this setting. 

You should really be saying no; ask for time to think. You should do the careful, logical thing that twelve years of professional discipline has trained you to do.

“Wednesday,” you say. “What time?”

Her smile could power a small nation.

“I’ll text you the details.” She stands, and when she stretches slightly you finally see her full figure. Compact but curved. Full bust straining subtly against understated fabric. Hips that move with confident purpose. She’s been hiding it well, but now that you’ve noticed, you can’t unnotice. “And Hinode-san? Wear something that fits. You’ve got the shoulders for a good suit. Stop hiding them in whatever that is.”

“This suit is fine.”

“That suit makes you look like a grandpa.” She’s already walking away. “I’ll send you the name of our tailor. Consider it a business expense.”

Why does everyone always have something to say about your suits?

She’s gone before you can respond.

You stand there, holding an empty champagne glass, trying to understand what just happened. A woman you’ve never met just offered you a lifeline, insulted your wardrobe, and walked away like she owned the room. (She probably does own this room—or her family does at least; you figured it’s the same thing.)

Your phone buzzes.

般若: good boy~

般若: she’s exactly what you need

般若: stable, normal, everything I’m not, am I right?

般若: she’ll take good care of you

般若: in ways I won’t~

般若: oh and are you not curious about me yet, Akihiro-kun?

You stare at the screen. Then at the bustling crowd, where Eunbi has disappeared. Then back at the screen.

In ways I won’t.

What the fuck does that mean?

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

Tsuki is waiting when you get home.

She’s sitting on your couch like she belongs there, legs crossed, one of your books open in her lap. The lamp casts warm light across her face, and for a moment you just stand in the doorway, keys in hand, too tired to even be surprised.

“The key under the fire escape,” you say. “Really?”

“You should find a better hiding spot.” She doesn’t look up from the book. “That’s the first place anyone checks.”

“Anyone who’s breaking in, maybe.”

“Anyone who’s paying attention.” Now she looks up. Those eyes. You notice it now in a way you didn’t before. At the bar, in the hotel, in the corridor, and here in your apartment. The same flat darkness, catching light wrong. Human eyes dilate with arousal, fear, interest. Hers don’t. “I pay attention.”

You close the door behind you. Drop your keys on the counter.

“That Kwon daughter,” you say. “That was all you, huh? You set that up.”

“Did I?”

“Don’t.” You cross the room, stop in front of her. “Don’t play games. Not tonight. I’m tired.”

She sets the book aside. Uncrosses her legs. Stands in one fluid motion, close enough that you can smell her. That dark sweet scent that’s haunted you for a week.

“You’re tense, Aki-kun” she says. Her hands find your chest. Presses flat over your heart. “I can feel it. All that anxiety, all that fear about what comes next, about Seoul, about whether you’re good enough.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re lying.” She steps closer. Her body presses against yours. “But I can help with that.”

“How?”

“How about I take care of you tonight.” Her fingers work at your tie, loosening it. “Let me remind you what you’re capable of.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Well. It’s the only answer I’m giving.” She pulls the tie free. Drops it on the floor. “Do you want me to stop?”

You should say yes. You should demand explanations, answers, something that makes sense. You should—”

“No.”

“Good boy.”

She kisses you. Hard. Hungry. Her tongue slides against yours and her hands are everywhere, pulling at your shirt, your belt, anything between her skin and yours.

“I’ve been thinking about this all week,” she breathes against your mouth. “Thinking about how you tasted. How you sounded when I had you in my mouth.”

“Tsuki—”

“Shhh.” She pushes your shirt off your shoulders. Her nails rake down your chest, just hard enough to sting. “Stop talking and just…” She drops to her knees. Your belt is already undone. She pulls down your zipper, frees your already throbbing cock from your boxers, and looks up at you with those flat dark eyes.

“Look at you,” she murmurs. “Already aching hard for me. Already. This. Desperate.” She wraps her hand around your base, strokes slowly. “Did you touch yourself this week thinking about me Aki-kun?”

“Yes.” The words come out strangled.

“How many times?”

“I don’t—”

“How many times, Akihiro?” She squeezes. Just enough pressure to make you gasp. “Three. Maybe four.”

“Did you come?”

“No.” You hadn’t let yourself. It felt wrong. It felt like cheating. “I couldn’t.”

“Because you knew, all this belonged to me.” She strokes again. Twists her wrist at the top.

“Your cock. Your cum. Your pleasure. All. Of. It. Mine.”

She leans forward and licks a stripe from base to tip. Slow. Savoring. You shudder.

“Tsuki—”

“I love the way you say my name.” She swirls her tongue around your cockhead. You start almost chanting her name like a prayer—barely coherent; like you’re begging but words won’t form.

She takes you in.

Hot. Wet. Her mouth is impossibly soft, you swear it’s borderline illegal how her tongue moves, and she takes you deep, deeper than should be comfortable, until you feel the back of her throat and she swallows around you.

“Fuck—” Your hands find her hair. Grip without meaning to. She moans around your cock. The vibration makes your knees buckle.

She pulls back just enough to speak, lips brushing your top. “That’s it. Feel free to fuck my mouth. Take what you need.”

“I don’t want to hurt—”

“Don’t worry, you won’t.” She looks up at you through dark lashes. “I can take it. I can take anything you give me.” She opens her mouth. Sticks out her tongue. Looks at you directly with her dark eyes. Waits.

You thrust.

Shallow at first. Testing. But she moans encouragingly, her hands gripping your hips, pulling you deeper. So you thrust again. Harder. And again. Until you’re fucking her face with a rhythm that’s animal and desperate and nothing like the man you thought you were.

Spit starts to drop down her chin. Tears leak from the corners of her eyes. And still she takes it, takes all of it, making sounds that are wet and obscene and somehow grateful.

“God, you’re—” You can’t finish the sentence. Can barely form coherent thoughts. If this is how you die, then so be it. You’re nearing nirvana. “I’m going to—”

She pulls off.

Fucking hell.

“No.” She wipes her chin with the back of her hand. Stands. “Not yet Aki-kun.”

“Please, Tsuki.” The words come out broken. You’re so hard it hurts, cock slick with her spit, throbbing. “Tsuki, please, let me—”

“I know what you need.” She turns. Walks towards your bedroom. Looks back over her shoulder. “Come with me Akihiro.” You follow her with no hesitation.

She’s already undressing when you reach the doorway. Her dress pools at her feet. No bra. Just black lace panties that barely cover anything. Her breasts are full and perfect, nipples already hard, and she watches your face as you take her in.

“See something you like?”

“Everything.”

“Good answer.” She lies back on your bed. Spreads her legs. Hooks her thumb into her panties and slowly, torturously, slides them down her milky thighs. “Your turn.”

You strip. Practically tear off your remaining clothes. Stand at the edge of the bed, naked and aching, and she looks at you like you’re exactly where she wants you. “On your knees boy,” she says. “I want that mouth of yours on me.”

You kneel. She’s already wet, glistening in the low light, and when you lean in and breathe against her, she shivers. 

“Stop teasing Aki-kun,” she warns.

Your tongue navigates through her already soaked folds and when it finds her clit she gasps, her hips jerking up off the mattress.

“Yes,” she breathes. “Right there. Just like that.”

You eat her like you’re starving; like she’s the first meal you’ve had in weeks. You learn the rhythm she responds to, the pressure, the way she cries out when you suck her clit and push two fingers inside her.

“Fuck. Aki-kun~” Her hands find your hair. Pull hard enough to hurt. “That mouth of yours is so good, so fucking good, don’t stop, don’t you dare fucking stop—” You don’t plan on stopping any time soon. You work her with your tongue and your fingers until she’s shaking, until her thighs are clamped around your head and her moans have become one long continuous sound.

“I’m going to come,” she gasps. “I’m going to—oh god—”

She breaks.

Her whole body seizes, cunt clenching around your fingers, her cry sharp enough to echo off the walls. You work her through it, gentler now, drawing out every aftershock until she’s pushing you at your shoulders.

“Enough.” She’s panting. Flushed. “Enough. Come here.”

You crawl up her body. She kisses you, tasting herself on your lips, and wraps her legs around your waist.

“I want you inside me,” she whispers. “I’ve wanted it since that first night. Wanted to feel you stretch me, fill me to the brim, fuck me until I can’t think.”

“Then let me—”

“Just. Kidding~”

She pushes you off. Rolls you onto your back. Straddles you, her wet heat hovering just above your cock, so close you can feel her.

“Not tonight Aki-kun.” She rocks her hips. Your cock slides through her folds, slick and hot, the head catching against her entrance on every pass. “Tonight you learn.”

“Learn what?” 

“That I decide when you get to come.” She reaches down. Takes your cock in her hand. Positions you right at her entrance, just barely pressing in. “That I decide how much you get. That every time you close your eyes in Seoul and think about what you want, you’ll think about this—” She presses down. Just the tip slides in. You nearly black out. “—about how close you were. About how good it would have felt.”

She lifts off. Completely. Your cock slaps against your stomach, wet, and desperate, and denied.

“No.” She’s already climbing off the bed. “That’s enough for tonight.”

“Tsuki—”

“Hush.” She picks up her dress. Pulls it on like nothing happened. Like you’re not lying there ruined. “Go to Seoul. Meet her father. Let her take care of you.”

“And then?”

“Then come back to me~” She pauses at the doorway. Looks back over her shoulder with those flat, dark eyes. “I’ll be here.”

“What are you?”

She smiles. Lips closed. Her face is unreadable.

“I’m what you can’t stop wanting. No matter what happens, some part of you will wish it was me.”

Then she’s gone.

You lie there on your bed, cock aching, body thrumming with denied release, more confused than you’ve ever been in your life. Her underwear from the networking event is still in your dresser drawer. You never threw it away.

You don’t touch yourself tonight either.

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

般若: looks like your flight is at noon

般若: nice suit, her tailor?

般若: oooh, that’s expensive~

般若: did you get a sugar mommy now?

般若: oh, and Aki-kun…

般若: try not to fall too hard, ok? (wink tongue emoji)

You stare at her texts until your screen goes dark. Then you close your eyes and try to sleep. You dream of nothing.

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

Wednesday, 6:03 AM

Kwon Eunbi: Good morning! Here’s the flight details: KE706, Narita to Incheon, 12:15 PM

Kwon Eunbi: First class. My treat. Don’t argue.

Kwon Eunbi: 6:04 AM

You: That’s too generous. I can pay for my own ticket.

Kwon Eunbi: 🙄

Kwon Eunbi: No! I’m gonna reimburse this when we get there. Business expense!

You: What happened to refusing the life of a nepo baby?

Kwon Eunbi: 🙄🙄🙄

Kwon Eunbi: Consider it hazard pay then. You’ll be sitting next to me for a few hours. 

You: Hazard pay?

Kwon Eunbi: I’m a terrible plane companion. I don’t stop yapping 😜

Kwon Eunbi: Also I’ve been known to aggressively critique strangers’ work over their shoulders

You: I don’t think I’ll be able to do any work in the air anyways with you yapping beside me

Kwon Eunbi: Then you’re safe

Kwon Eunbi: Text me your address. Car will pick you up at 10.

Kwon Eunbi: See you soon, Hinode-san

You set your phone down. Stare at the ceiling.

Try not to fall too hard.

Too late for that.

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

By noon, you’re in a window seat watching Tokyo shrink beneath the clouds, and Eunbi beside you with a laptop open, running numbers that would make most CFOs weep.

“Stop watching me work,” she says without looking up. “It’s creepy.”

“I’m not watching you work.”

“Well if you’re not watching me work, then you’re watching something.” She glances over; catches you staring at her hands. You can’t help but do so: the way her fingers almost glide across the keyboard, quick and certain; like each character she inputs has already been considered. “Ah. The hands thing. My ex used to do that too.”

“The hands thing?”

“Apparently I have ‘pianist hands.’” She wiggles her fingers. “I can’t play piano, for the record. Complete waste of good genetics. I wonder what it’s good for though.”

“I wasn’t…”

“You were. It’s fine. I get that a lot.” She closes the laptop. Gives you her full attention. “Talk to me. You’re nervous.”

“Of course I’m nervous. I’m meeting your father. This will be my first job ever since leaving Ishikawa.”

“You’re meeting my dad. A potential client that already thinks of you highly.” She shifts in her seat, angling toward you. “You’re going to be fine. You’ve already passed the first test. Stop catastrophizing.”

“I’m not catastrophizing.”

“Your legs say otherwise.”

You look down. It has. Goddamnit.

“I don’t do well with… uncertainty.”

“Then you’re going to hate this, because nothing about working with my family is certain, like at all.” She says it matter-of-factly; no apology. “We’re extremely complicated. We fight. We scheme. Oh, we scheme a lot, you’re not gonna hear the end of it. Half of my cousins want my father’s job and the other half want him dead. It’s like Game of Thrones but with better skincare.”

“Yeah, that’s totally reassuring.”

“It should be. If I wanted safe, I would have hired literally anyone else, you know.” She reaches over; squeezes your hand once, then lets go. “I want someone who can handle messy. Who doesn’t flinch when things get ugly.”

“And you think that’s me?”

“I think you survived Ishikawa and you walked out of that building with your integrity intact, which is more than most people manage. And I think…” She pauses; studies your face with an intensity that makes you want to look away. “You look like someone who’s tired of playing defense. You’re ready to fight again. You just need someone to point you at the right enemy.”

Fight.

That word again. Tsuki said the same thing. That first night. After she left you aching in the hotel room.

“Is there anything wrong? You’re making a weird face,” Eunbi says.

“What face?”

“It looked like you zoned out there, like you’re somewhere else.” She doesn’t seem offended, just curious. “Where do you go? When you check out like that?”

“Nowhere important.”

“Liar.” But she doesn’t push. Just flags down the flight attendant and orders two whiskeys. “Drink with me. It’ll make the rest of the flight less boring.”

The whiskey arrives. You both drink. The silence isn’t awkward exactly, but it’s become weighted. You’re both starting to feel a bit more loose too. The alcohol doing its job.

“Can I ask you something more personal?” you say.

“You can, but I reserve the right to deflect with humor.”

“What do you do for fun?” Her face changes; like she’s expecting a punchline from you. “When you’re not reading financial records and terrorizing your cousins.”

She laughs without restraint. Surprised, maybe, that you’d ask.

“I watch the worst reality TV shows imaginable,” she admits. “The trashier the better. Singles Inferno, The Bachelor, dating shows, anything where people make increasingly dramatic poor life choices.”

“Really? But why reality tv, specifically?”

“Don’t sound so shocked. I spend all day making rational decisions. Sometimes you need to watch someone throw wine at another person because they’re being a bitch.” She takes a sip of her whiskey. “What about you? What does the Hinode Akihiro do when he’s not staring at spreadsheets?”

“I used to rock climb before everything fell apart.”

“Used to?”

“Hard to motivate yourself when you’re not sure what you’re climbing toward.” You swirl your drink. “Now I mostly drink and read. I must sound so fucking miserable, huh?”

“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Thank you. I’m cultivating a specific aesthetic.”

“Brooding middle-aged accountant?”

“Hey, I’m not that old.”

“Brooding almost-middle-aged accountant.” She grins. “It’s a good look. Very Mr. Darcy energy.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“Oh, what the heck do you read? You are absolutely getting a reading list.” She pulls out her phone, starts typing. “Pride and Prejudice. Mandatory. No arguments.”

“I don’t… I mostly read self-help books.”

“Eew. Self-help books? No. You don’t need that at all. You’re changing that, now. No further arguments.” She looks up. Mock-stern. “This is happening, ok? Consider it part of your professional development.”

“How is reading a two-hundred-year-old romance novel professional development?”

“It’s about a smart woman falling for a man who’s terrible at expressing emotions but secretly has a good heart. Very applicable to our working relationship.”

“Which one am I in this scenario?”

“Not sure yet.” But she’s giving you the biggest smile. “Probably Darcy. You’ve got the brooding down.”

You laugh uncontrollably. You haven’t laughed like this in a while. It surprises both of you.

“Oh and by the way, my father will ask about your failures,” Eunbi says as the seatbelt sign dings on. “Not your successes—he already knows those. He wants to know how you handle losing.”

“What should I tell him?”

“The truth. He can smell bullshit from three prefectures away. So, don’t even try.”

“What if the truth makes me look bad?”

“Then at least he’ll know you’re honest.” She smiles and it’s so different; so warm and unguarded. “That’s infinitely worth more than looking good.”

You swear your heart skipped a beat, but it could as well be the whiskey playing tricks on you. It has enchanted you a couple of times, you might as well not know the difference between fantasy and reality with it in your system.

The plane touches down. And as you taxi toward the gate, watching Seoul sprawl beneath the overcast afternoon sky, you realize something.

You haven’t thought about Tsuki at all in almost three hours.

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

The meeting with Kwon Minjun goes surprisingly better than you deserve.

He’s smaller than you expected. You swear he was a titan back at the networking event; maybe clout in a public setting grows you a few inches.

His place reflects him very well. High ceiling, wood-paneled walls, dim warm lighting, and a single window with a serene view of the river. Modern interiors mixed with traditional accents. One wall has a glass case with three masks mounted. Two are masks you recognize from the textbooks. The third is a Hannya. Female’s face, twisted between rage and grief, small horns curving from the forehead. 

It’s an artform that eludes you but seeing it somehow evokes some kind of fight or flight. You’ve seen it before. The hotel hallway, the night Tsuki took you upstairs. You were not sure what it was called then.

Minjun catches you looking. “My wife’s. She was into traditional Japanese folklore.”

“Was?”

“She passed, twelve years ago.” A pause. “Some of her collection ended up in my office. I look at them more than I should.”

You’re not sure why but that information feels useful, you file it away for now.

He spends the first thirty minutes asking about everything except your business: Your family. Your education. The book you’re currently reading (you’re currently realizing how much of a bookworm this family is, not that it’s a bad thing but it’s making you rethink your current collection.)

Whether you prefer mountains or oceans:

“Mountains,” you answer. “The ocean is vast and deep, it reminds me of how small I am.”

“And mountains don’t?”

“They do but mountains at least make me feel like there’s something worth climbing.”

He laughs at that; a short, surprised sound. He looks at Eunbi, who’s been watching from the corner of the room with barely concealed amusement.

“Tell me about the day you decided to ‘leave.’ Ishikawa”

You set down your tea. “It wasn’t my decision, I was basically forced into it. I resigned because the alternative was being laid off.”

“That’s not what I asked.” His face switched into serious-mode; first time this happened throughout the conversation. “I asked when you decided. There’s a difference between resigning and choosing to resign. You made the call before HR did. I want to know when.”

You think. Honestly. “There was an incident two years ago… An arrangement I helped structure. I had questions but decided not to ask them. When I recalled that I knew I wasn’t fully innocent.”

A long pause. “Then we understand each other.” A pause. “You were right,” he tells Eunbi. “This man is interesting.”

“Father, I’m always right,” Eunbi says. “You should remember that.”

The business discussion happens over dinner: Three hours of restructuring proposals, tax implications, family trust complications that would make a lesser accountant wet their pants and cry themselves to sleep. You take notes on your phone. Ask questions that got Minjun to pause and reconsider. By the time the last course arrives, you’ve outlined a preliminary strategy that addresses concerns he hasn’t even voiced yet.

“Incredible! You’re really good at this, huh, young man?” he says.

“I try, sir.”

“Alright, we’re done for today.” He stands, signaling to everyone in the room that the meeting is over. “My daughter will handle the details. I look forward to working with you, Hinode-san.”

He leaves. And suddenly you’re alone with Eunbi in a private dining room that probably costs more per hour than your rent for the whole year.

“That was terrifying,” you say.

“That was him at his nicest.” She’s grinning. “He usually makes people feel dumb and have them cry by the second course. You made it to dessert with no speck in your eye. That’s impressive.”

“You really think so? I think I blacked out for a better part of it.”

“You didn’t. You were brilliant. Be proud of yourself, I am.” She stands, stretches. The movement pulls her dress tight, and you see her full figure now without obstruction. Compact but curved. The kind of body that expensive clothes are designed to downplay and now you’re suddenly very aware of. “Come on. I’m starving.” 

“Huh? We just ate dinner.”

“We ate business dinner. That doesn’t count. Pretty much empty calories. I know a place nearby that cooks real food.” She’s already heading for the door. “My treat. Don’t argue.”

“You’re going to bankrupt yourself treating me to things.”

“I’m worth eight hundred million dollars, Akihiro. I think I’ll survive buying you food.”

You follow her out into the Seoul night.

(Eight hundred million. You can’t even conceptualize that number.)

(Also: she called you Akihiro. Not Hinode-san. You noticed. Progress. You’re not sure why you’re tracking progress suddenly.)

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

The “place nearby” turns out to be a pojangmacha. A street tent with plastic chairs and a woman who greets Eunbi by name.

“They know you. You come here often?”

“When I need to feel normal and when I want actually good food.” She orders for both of you in rapid Korean. “Tteokbokki. Kimbap. Soju. The essentials.”

“Eunbi-ah,” the woman says, swatting at her arm with a kitchen towel. “Where have you been? You don’t visit auntie anymore.”

“Auntie, I was here last Friday.”

“Aigoo~ You’re getting thin-ah! I’ll give you extra, eat more! Eat more!” She squints at you. “Mmm. He’s new.”

“He’s working.”

“Working at what?”

“Numbers.”

The woman makes a face like numbers personally offended her. “Sit! Get comfortable. I’ll bring you what you should eat. Not whatever you ordered.” She walks off.

Eunbi turns to you. “She’ll feed you something with intestines. Don’t react.”

“Noted.”

“Also, she might ask if we’re married. Just go along with it.”

You wait for the smile to break. It doesn’t. “Are you serious?”

“It speeds up the meal, and they give us more servings because of it.”

The food arrives fast. It’s spicy and cheap and perfect. Everything you’ve been missing this past few hours.

“So,” she says, pouring soju into tiny glasses. “You survived my father. You good? How are you feeling right now?”

“Like I just ran a marathon while someone asked me increasingly personal questions.”

“That’s accurate.” She hands you a glass. “To surviving.”

You drink. The soju burns.

“Can I ask you something?” you say.

“You’re asking that a lot today. But sure.”

“Why are you doing this? The dinner. The streetfood. The…” You gesture vaguely at everything. “You could be anywhere. With anyone. Why are you eating intestines with a disgraced accountant?”

“You’re not disgraced, don’t be dramatic. You’re just… undergoing a transition in your career. There is a clear difference.”

“Well, the world doesn’t see it that way.”

“The world is… well, frankly it’s stupid.” She takes another drink. “And I’m doing this because I like you. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Honestly? Yes.”

“That’s the saddest thing you’ve said yet.” She pours more soju. “You know what I think? I think you’ve spent so long performing competence that you’ve forgotten people might actually just enjoy your company.”

You nod. “That’s a good theory.”

“It’s a fact you dum-dum. You’re funny. You’re smart. You ask good questions and you actually listen to the answers. Most men I meet spend the whole conversation calculating: my net worth, my cup size, or what I can do for their career. It’s exhausting.” She meets your eyes. “You’re also present; like, actually in the room with me instead of three moves ahead. Do you know how rare that is for a man nowadays?”

You don’t know what to say to that. So you drink instead and gulp the burning alcohol.

“I should show you the apartment,” she says eventually. “It’s getting late, and tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

“What do you mean apartment, huh?”

“Where you’re staying. Family guest suite. It’s nicer than a hotel and the kitchen is stocked.” She’s already standing, leaving won on the table and waves farewell to the auntie with her signature big smile. “Plus it’s attached to my suite, so if you have any questions about tomorrow’s meetings, I’m right there.”

She’s… right… there…

You follow her into the Seoul night, feeling something you haven’t felt in weeks.

Hope, maybe. Or something that resembles it.

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

The Kwon family apartment is less an apartment and more a penthouse that happens to have multiple apartments inside it. Your ‘guest suite’ has two bedrooms, a full kitchen, and a view of the Han River that looks like a postcard. People would kill to get this vantage point.

“This is the small one,” Eunbi says, watching your face as you take it in. “My father’s is upstairs.”

“Seriously? The small one.”

“I know. It’s too much.” She doesn’t sound bothered. “Bathroom’s through there. Kitchen’s stocked, feel free to take anything. I’m through that door if you need me.”

She points to a connecting door between the suites.

“Get some rest,” she says. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

“Eunbi…”

“Hmmm?”

“Thank you. For today. For… all of it.”

She looks at you. The sharpness leaves her face for a moment. She looks warm.

“You don’t have to thank me. This is all just business.”

“Is it?”

The question hangs there. She doesn’t look away.

“Get some rest now Akihiro,” she says again. Way softer this time.

She disappears through the connecting door. You hear it click shut behind her.

You shower. Change into the one nice pair of pajamas you packed. Lie down in a bed that’s too comfortable, in a room that’s too big, in a life that suddenly makes no sense.

Your phone buzzes.

般若: sooo… how was daddy kwon?

般若: did he make you cry?

般若: mhmmph~! no response. it means you’re either sleeping or sulking

般若: either way~

般若: sweet dreams, aki-kun

般若: don’t think about me too much 💋

You turn off your phone. Press your face into the pillow, cool and soft to the touch.

You dream of dark eyes, dangerous smiles, and the sound of your own name; distorted and mocking.

Akihiro-kun.

Aki-kun.

Akihiro.

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

Day Two in Seoul

Another day. Another opportunity to kill it; or yourself. You haven’t decided yet but work today went well at least.

You spend the morning going through different files with Eunbi, untangling the Kwon family’s trust structures, finding the pressure points and leverage opportunities. She’s extremely sharp, sharper than you expected, catching details you miss and building on your insights.

By afternoon, you’ve developed a preliminary framework. By dinner, you’re finishing each other’s sentences.

“This cousin here, Wonbin, he’s the problem,” you say, pointing at a family tree scrawled on a hotel stationery.

“He’s always been the problem. But we can’t cut him out without destabilizing the whole eastern division.”

“What if we don’t cut him out? What if we give him something he wants more than a chairmanship?”

“Like what?”

“Autonomy. His own subsidiary. Let him feel like a king of a smaller kingdom instead of a prince in a larger one. Let him think he holds the cards.”

She stares at you. Dumbfounded. Proud. A mix of things. Then grins.

“You’re either brilliant or insane.”

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“No,” she says. “They’re not.”

She orders room service. You eat on the floor of her suite, papers spread around you like a nest.

“Can I ask you something?” she says.

“You’re asking that a lot this week.”

“Touché.” She sets down her chopsticks. “What happened at Ishikawa? What really happened? Not the PR bullshit that spread around.”

You’re quiet for a long moment. You’ve told this story before, to lawyers and HR and partly to her father. But you’ve never really laid it all out honestly.

“I didn’t know,” you say finally. “That’s the short version. The partners were running a scheme, using client accounts to funnel money into shell companies, and I didn’t know. I should have. The signs were all there, if you knew where to look. But I was so focused on my work, on making partner, that I didn’t see what was right in front of me.”

“That’s…That’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it? I prided myself on catching what others missed. I was that guy. The one that reads between the lines. But I missed the biggest thing that’s happening in my own firm.” You stare at the mess of papers on the floor. “I think that’s what bothers me the most. Not that I lost my job. That I was so blind.”

“You weren’t blind. You were trusting. There’s a difference.”

“The result is the same.”

“No, it’s not.” She moves closer. Sits beside you instead of across from you. “Blind people don’t learn. Trusting people who get burned learn to be more careful next time. You’re not going to make that mistake again.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re already looking to be redeemed. You’re already questioning everything. You double-check every assumption. That’s not blindness. That’s someone who got hurt and refuses to get hurt the same way twice.”

You really don’t know what to say after that. So you don’t say anything.

She reaches over. Squeezes your hand. Lets go before it becomes something else.

“Well, we should get some sleep,” she says. “Tomorrow’s going to be long.”

“You said the same thing yesterday.”

“Every day with my family is long.” She stands. Offers you a hand up. “Come on. Out of my suite. You’ve got your own perfectly nice apartment to brood in.”

You take her hand. She pulls you to your feet. And for a moment you’re standing very close, close enough to see the flecks of gold in her eyes, close enough to feel her breath.

Neither of you moves.

“Goodnight, Akihiro,” she says. Softly.

“Goodnight, Eunbi.”

You walk to the connecting door. Open it. Look back.

She’s still standing where you left her. Watching you with an expression you can’t read.

You close the door behind you.

Your phone buzzes.

般若: still thinking about me Aki-kun?

般若: good boy~ ♡

You turn off your phone and try to sleep.

You don’t dream of Tsuki tonight.

You dream of Eunbi instead. (Great. This. Whatever this is. It’s going to be a problem.)

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

Day Three

You’re in a meeting room with three Kwon cousins arguing about a holding entity. Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You don’t check.

Later, in the bathroom, you look.

Kim Jiwoo · Seoul Financial Review: “I know you’re in Seoul, Hinode-san. I’m based here. Coffee? Twenty minutes anywhere you pick. I just want to have a conversation.”

You close the message.

Walking back to the meeting room you wonder briefly how the fuck she knows you’re in Seoul.

The day goes by with more work. A lot more progress. Extremely more time spent in her orbit, gravity pulling you close but not quite touching.

She brushes against you when she reaches for the documents. Her hand finds your arm when she’s making a point. Once, leaning over your shoulder to look at something on your laptop, you feel her breath against your ear and have to excuse yourself to get water. (The skinship that’s happening is beyond what you imagine.)

“You okay?” she asks when you return.

“Fine. Just needed to stretch.”

“You’ve been stretching a lot today.”

“I’m a stretchy person.”

“Who are you? Monkey D. Luffy?”

“No. Sorry. I just panicked.”

You both burst of laughter and the tension ratchets up another notch.

By dinner, you’re both avoiding eye contact.

“This is ridiculous,” she says finally. “We’re adults. I like you and you clearly like me. We can both acknowledge attraction like grown adults without making it weird.”

“Can we?”

“Apparently not, based on the last three hours.” She sets down her chopsticks. “Cards on the table. I find you attractive. I’m pretty sure you also find me attractive. We’re both single, we’re both consenting adults, and we’re going to be working together for the foreseeable future. So we need to decide how to handle this.”

“How do you want to handle… this?”

“I asked you first.”

“That’s… That’s not fair.”

“I never said I was fair.” She leans back in her chair. “Tell me what you want, Akihiro. No wrong answers. Just honest ones.”

What do you want?

If you really are being honest then… You want to kiss her. You want to pull her into your lap and find out what sounds she makes when she’s not the feisty venture capitalist that she is. You want to forget about Tsuki, about Ishikawa, about everything that’s happened in the last month, and just be present with someone who seems to actually see through you.

But you also know there’s something else. Someone else. A presence in your head that won’t let go, no matter how much you want it to.

“I want to figure out what I want,” you finally say. “That’s the honest answer. I’m attracted to you. I like spending my time with you. But there’s… something else. Something I’m still trying to understand. And until I do, I don’t think I can give you what you deserve.”

For a moment the room is filled with silence.

“That’s either the most honest thing a man has ever said to me,” she says, “or the most elaborate brush-off.”

“It’s not a brush-off Eunbi.”

“Then what is it?”

“A rain check.” You meet her eyes. “I’m not saying no. I’m saying not yet. Not until I can be fully present with you.”

She nods slowly; processing. 

“Okay,” she says. “I can work with that.”

“You sure you can?”

“I’m not going to force myself on someone who isn’t ready. That’s not who I am.” She stands. Starts aggressively gathering the dinner containers. “But I’m also not going to wait forever. Figure out your shit, Akihiro. Then let me know.”

She leaves the room. You hear her in the kitchen, washing dishes with more force than strictly necessary.

You don’t blame her.

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

Day Four

Meetings all morning with various Kwon relatives, each more complicated than the last. Then a working lunch with Minjun where he asks pointed questions about your five-year plan and seem satisfied with your answers.

By evening, you’re exhausted. You order room service and eat alone in your suite, staring out at the river.

Your phone buzzes.

Kwon Eunbi: I owe you an apology

You: For what?

Kwon Eunbi: Last night. I was pushy. You set a boundary and I made it weird.

You: Don’t worry about it.

You: You didn’t make it weird.

Kwon Eunbi: I definitely made it a little weird. Let me buy you a drink to make up for it.

You: You’ve bought me a lot of drinks this week.

Kwon Eunbi: One drink. Connecting door. Bring your best brooding face.

You: I’ll be there in twenty

You shower. Change into a clean shirt. Tell yourself this is just a drink. (You know it’s not just a drink. She knows it’s not just a drink. You repeat it over and over inside your head, this ain’t just a drink, right? You’re clearly going insane.)

You knock on the connecting door anyway.

She opens it in silk pajamas. Hair loose. Face bare of makeup.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi.”

“You came.”

“You asked.”

She steps aside. You step through.

The suite is warm. Jazz playing softly from somewhere. Two glasses of wine already poured on the coffee table.

“I was hoping you’d say yes,” she admits.

“What would you have done if I said no?”

“Drank both glasses myself and pretend it never happened.” She hands you a glass. “Sit. You’re making me nervous.”

“I make you nervous?”

“Everything about this makes me nervous.” She sits on the couch. Leaves space for you. “I don’t do this, you know. Invite men to my suite. Mix business with… whatever this is.”

“What is this?”

“I don’t know yet.” She looks at you. Those bright eyes, so different from Tsuki’s. “But I’d like to find out. If you’re willing.”

You should say no. You should protect her from whatever’s happening in your head, the presence that won’t let go, the unfinished business you have with someone you don’t understand.

But she’s looking at you like you matter. Like you’re worth the risk.

“I’m willing,” you hear yourself say.

She sets down her wine. Moves closer. Her hand finds your jaw, turns your face toward hers.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Because once we do this, we can’t undo it.”

“I know.”

“And I meant what I said. I don’t like sharing. If this happens, I need you here. With me. Fully present.”

“I’m here.”

“Are you?”

You kiss her instead of answering.

She makes a sound against your mouth. Surprised, maybe. Then her hands are in your hair and she’s kissing you back, and everything you’ve been holding back floods out.

“Wait.” She pulls back. Breathing hard. “Wait. I need to tell you something first.”

“What?”

“I haven’t—” She closes her eyes. Opens them slowly. “It’s been a long time. Years. I’ve been so focused on work, on proving myself, that I haven’t… this is the first time I’ve wanted anyone in a very long time.”

“Eunbi—”

“I’m not saying that to pressure you. I’m just saying it because I need you to know that this means something to me. I don’t do casual.”

You touch her face. Trace the line of her jaw.

“Neither do I.”

She kisses you again.

This time neither of you pulls back.

Her hands find the buttons of your shirt. She works them open one by one, her mouth never leaving yours, and when the fabric parts she runs her palms across your chest.

“Mhmm~” She pulls back just enough to look. “You’ve been hiding this.”

“I haven’t been—”

“Shut up.” She pushes the shirt off your shoulders. Kisses your collarbone. Your sternum. The hollow of your throat. “Let me enjoy this.”

You reach for her pajama top. She raises her arms and lets you pull it over her head.

God.

Her breasts are fuller than you expected. Heavy and round, nipples already hard, flushed pink against her skin. Nothing like Tsuki’s, which were pert and perfect and calculated to destroy you. Eunbi’s are generous. Soft. Extremely soft. The kind you want to bury your face in and willingly suffocate in.

“You’re staring,” she says.

“I can’t help it.” (You really can’t. Her body is a super massive blackhole and your eyes are getting pulled into it and your mind is in mid-spaghettification)

“Good.” She takes your hands. Place them on her breasts. “Don’t help it.”

You cup them. Feel their weight in your palms. When your thumb brush her nipples she gasps, arching into your touch, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Yes,” she breathes. “Like that. Fuck, like that—”

You lean down and take one nipple in your mouth. She cries out, her hands flying to your hair, pulling you closer. You suck. Roll the other nipple between your fingers. She writhes beneath you making sounds that are nothing like Tsuki’s. These are raw and real.

“More,” she gasps. “I need more—”

You kiss down her stomach. Hook your fingers into the waistband of her pajama bottoms and pull them down slowly, kissing each new inch of skin as it’s revealed. Her hips. Her thighs. The crease where her leg meets her body. She lifts her hips to help you, kicking the fabric away, and then she’s naked beneath you.

A gift from the gods unwrapped in its full glory. All of her. Curved and soft and warm and confident and… all yours.

“Your turn,” she says, reaching for your belt.

She undoes it with fumbling fingers. Pulls down your zipper. You help her get your pants and boxers off, and when your cock springs free she makes a sound low in her throat.

“Oh.” She wraps her hand around you. Strokes. “Oh!~”

“That good or bad?”

“That’s…” She gulped. “Good. That’s very, very good.” She strokes again, watching your face.

“I’ve been thinking about this since the plane. Watching your hands. Wondering how they’d feel.”

“Oh?” She slides off the couch onto her knees. “How does it feel so far?” Looks up at you with those bright eyes.

You fail to give her any sort of response from that assault.

“Let me taste you.”

Before you can respond, her mouth is already on you.

“Fuck,” you groan as she takes you deeper. “Your mouth—”

She hums around your cock. The vibration makes your hips jerk.

“You like that?” She pulls back just enough to speak, her lips brushing your tip. “You like my mouth on your cock?”

“Yes—”

She takes you deep again. Deeper. You feel the back of her throat, feel her swallow around you, and your hands fist in her hair.

“I’m gonna—if you keep doing that—”

She pulls off. Stands. Climbs onto your lap, straddling you, and before your mind catches up to what’s happening she’s reaching between you, positioning you at her entrance. She’s soaked. You can feel it. The head of your cock sliding through her folds, coating you in her wetness.

“Look at me,” she says. “I want to see your face when you finally stop calculating.” You look at her. Time stops. Seconds become years.

She sinks down.

“Oh fuck—” Her head falls back, her mouth open, her whole body trembling. “Christ. Christ, Akihiro. I had a number for this in my head and you just blew right past it.”

You try to find the right words in your head. She’s tight. Tighter than you expected, her walls gripping you, and wet, so fucking wet that you slide all the way to the hilt.

“Eunbi—”

“Shhh.” She rolls her hips. Adjusts. Takes a shaky breath. “Just—let me feel you. It’s been so long. Let me feel how deep you can go.”

“Eunbi—”

She starts to move. Slow at first. Finding her rhythm. Her hands on your chest, her eyes half-closed, making sounds that are high and breathless and abso-fucking-lutely real.

“You feel amazing,” she gasps. “Fuck, you feel—I forgot how good this could—You’re so big inside me—Fuck!”

You grip her hips. Start moving with her. She cries out.

“There—right there—don’t stop—please—fill me up—”

You don’t stop. You fuck up into her while she rides you, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. Her breasts bounce with every thrust and you can’t stop watching them, can’t stop thinking about how different this is from Tsuki. She controlled you, denied you access, always keeping you on the edge without ever letting you fall. But Eunbi is giving everything. All she’s got. Generous. Taking everything you have and giving it back twofold.

“Harder,” she moans. “Fuck me harder—”

You flip her. Put her on her back, her legs wrapped around your waist, and you pound into her tight pussy the way you’ve wanted to pound into someone for longer than you can remember.

“Yes—yes—yes—yes!” She’s almost chanting now, mindless, her nails raking down your back. “Just like that, please don’t stop, I’m gonna—I’m gonna—Fuck!”

She comes. Her whole body seizes, her cunt clamping down on you so hard you start seeing stars constructing whole constellations in your head. You fuck her through it, watching her face contort with pleasure, feeling her pulse around your cock.

“Don’t stop,” she gasps as soon as she can breathe. “Keep going. I told you I don’t do slow. I told you I don’t do half. Don’t make me a liar.”

“Turn around.”

She gives you the horniest grin. Wild. Hungry. The composed heiress is gone; this version wants to devour you.

She flips onto her hands and knees. Look back at you over her shoulder. And the view—fuck, the view. Her ass is round and peach-perfect, her pussy glistening and swollen, her spine curved in invitation.

“Like this?”

You grab her hips. She arches. God that arch. You push inside. She moans, dropping her head, pushing back against you.

“Oh God. There. Right—there. Akihiro, there.”

You fuck her like you’ve never fucked anyone else. Hard. Deep. Starved. Watching yourself disappear into her over and over. Watching her body shake with each impact. Feeling how tight she grips you with every thrust. She’s so wet you can hear it, slick and obscene, and her moans are building higher with every thrust.

“Yes—fuck yes—don’t stop—”

And then—

Something shifts.

Her hair looks darker suddenly. Her skin paler. The curve of her spine changes, becomes something more familiar, and when she looks back over her shoulder her eyes turn flat and dark and everything warm turns cold, everything bright turns dark, and—

Tsuki.

She’s Tsuki. Under you, taking you, moaning your name, and you’re fucking her the way you’ve wanted to fuck her for weeks, hard and deep, and desperate, and she’s finally letting you, finally giving you what she’s been denying—

“This is what you’ve been wanting, Aki-kun,” Tsuki croons. “Take. Take it. I let you, this once. Don’t think I won’t take it back.”

You slam into her. Feral. Desperate. Angry. All the frustration of the past week pouring out. She takes it, takes all of it, crying out with every thrust, and you’re so close, so fucking close—

“Akihiro—”

It shifts again. Eunbi’s voice. Eunbi’s face. Eunbi’s body. The vision shatters.

You freeze. Heart pounding hard. Cock still throbbing inside her. (What the fuck was that?!)

“Akihiro please don’t stop,” she gasps. “God, don’t stop, I’m so fucking close—”

You force yourself to move. Force yourself to be present. This is Eunbi. This is real. She is real. Her warm, soft body. Her genuine moans. Her need that matches your own.

Stay here, stay with her.

I’m gonna cum again,” she warns. “Fuck I’m gonna—”

She does. Harder than before. Her whole body convulses, her cunt milking you, and this time you finally let yourself go with her. You bury yourself to the hilt and come, pumping your seed into her, filling her up while she shakes beneath you.

“Oh fuck—” She’s still trembling. “Oh fuck, I can feel it—you’re cumming so much—so warm”

You collapse on top of her. Both of you panting. Both of you wrecked.

“Holy shit,” she breathes.

“Yeah.”

“That was…”

“Yeah.”

She laughs. Breathless. Turns her head to kiss you sloppily.

But she’s not done. After a minute, she pushes you onto your back. Your cock is still half hard, slick with her wetness and your cum, and she wraps her hand around it, stroking until you’re fully hard again.

“I told you,” she says, grinning down at you. “It’s been three years. I have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

She straddles you. Sinks down onto your cock in one smooth motion, and you can feel how wet she is, slick with you, dripping at each motion.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” she breathes, starting to move. “Feeling you inside me like this. Feeling how wet I am from you. Feeling your cum going deeper in me.”

She rides you slowly this time. Her hips rolling in lazy circles, her breasts swaying in your face. You watch them. Reach up and cup them, squeeze them, roll her nipples between your fingers.

“Yes,” she gasps. “Touch me. Take what’s yours. I love the way you touch my tits.”

You lean up. Take one nipple in your mouth. She cries out, her rhythm stuttering.

“Fuck—and your mouth—” You suck harder. She fucks you faster. Her moans building again, her walls tightening around you, and you can feel another orgasm building in both of you.

“I’m close,” she gasps. “Fuck, I’m close again—”

“Me too Eunbi.”

“Come with me.” She’s riding you frantically now, chasing it. “Come inside me again—I want you to fill me up—”

She comes. Clenches around you, crying out, and you follow her over the edge. Spilling into her for a second time, adding to the mess you already made inside her, and she collapses onto your chest with a satisfied groan.

“Jesus Christ,” she mumbles against your skin. “Where the fuck did you come from?”

“I don’t really know where I came from but just know that now, I feel like I’m in heaven.”

You laugh. She laughs.

“Well you and me both.” She lifts her head. Grins at you, sweaty and satisfied, your cum leaking out of her onto your thigh. “We’re doing that at least three more times before you leave.”

“I might actually die.”

“Worth it.” She kisses you, soft and sweet. Nothing like Tsuki. “Totally fucking worth it.” You hold her. Let yourself be held. You don’t mention anything about the vision.

You really don’t know how.

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

She curls against your side, pulls the blanket over both of you, rest her head on your chest.

“That was so good,” she says, sleepy and satisfied. “I forgot how good that could be.” She traced patterns on your chest. “I was starting to think I’d forgotten how.”

“You definitely didn’t forget.”

“Good to know the equipment still works.” She yawns. “You’re staying in Seoul for another few days. My father has more meetings scheduled.”

“Okay.”

“And I cleared my calendar.”

“Okay.”

“And I’m keeping you.”

You should clarify. Set expectations. Manage whatever this is becoming.

“Okay,” you say.

She falls asleep within minutes

You lie there in the dark, listening to her breathe, watching Seoul glitter beyond the windows.

You’re thinking about the vision. About Tsuki’s face where Eunbi’s should have been.

No matter what happens, some part of you will wish it was me.

Some part of you does. You don’t know how to feel about that.

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

The nightmare comes around 3AM.

Masks. Hundreds of them. The mask you saw from the hotel hallway when you first met Tsuki, multiplied across every wall of an endless room. Their faces shift, anguish to rage, to something that might be hunger, and they’re all watching you.

You try to run. The floor is soft, wet, giving way beneath your feet. Slowly eating you alive.

Laughter echoes from everywhere. High-pitched. Demonic. Distorted. Mocking.

“Aki-kun,” a voice croons. Tsuki’s voice, but wrong. “Where are you going, Akihiro-kun?”

You run faster. The masks lean down from the walls.

“Akihiro.” The voice is everywhere. Nowhere. “Did you think you could escape me?”

“AKIHIRO.”

You jerk awake. Heart pounding. Sheets damp with sweat.

Eunbi is propped up beside you. Her hand is on your chest.

“Nightmare?” she asks softly.

“I—yeah.”

“You were saying a name.”

Your blood goes cold.

“What name?”

“Tsuki.”

The word hangs between you. Heavy. Damning. (You’re fucking screwed)

“So that’s the mystery woman,” she says.

“Yes.”

She’s quiet for a long moment. Then she pushes the blankets aside and stands.

You see her in the low light. All of her. The curve of her spine, the fullness of her hips, her breasts swaying slightly as she moves. Even now, even in this moment, she’s beautiful. Unconsciously sensual in a way that’s nothing like Tsuki.

She walks to the bathroom. You hear water running. She returns with a glass, sits on the edge of the bed, offers it to you.

“Drink.”

You take the glass. Drink. Your hands are shaking slightly.

“How long has this been happening?” she asks. “The nightmares.”

“Since I met her. About a week ago.”

“That’s when you met me too.”

“I know.”

She nods. Processing.

“We all have our ghosts,” she says finally.

“Eunbi, I—”

“Don’t.” Her voice is gentle but firm. “Don’t apologize for your subconscious. You can’t control what you dream about.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“Of course it bothers me.” She takes the glass from your hands. Sets it on the nightstand. “But I knew what this was when I started it. I knew you were carrying something. I just didn’t know her name.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You better be.” She lies back down. But there’s distance now. Inches that weren’t there before. “Try to sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

“Eunbi—”

“Morning, Hinode-san. Everything makes more sense in daylight.”

She turns away. Not hostile. Just… done.

You lie there in the dark, watching the ceiling, feeling like you’ve broken something you didn’t know was fragile.

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

Morning comes too early.

You wake to gray light and an empty bed. For a moment you think she left. But then you hear sounds from the kitchen.

She’s making coffee.

You find her at the counter, wearing nothing but one of your shirts. It barely covers her thighs. Her hair is mussed. She looks soft. Domestic. She looks like something you could have.

“Cream and sugar are on the table,” she says without looking up. “I didn’t know how you take it.”

“Black is fine.”

“Of course it is.” She pushes a cup toward you. Meets your eyes. “You look terrible.”

“Didn’t sleep well.”

“I noticed.” She takes a sip of her own coffee. Studies you over the rim. “I’ve been thinking.”

“About?”

“Last night. The nightmare. Tsuki.”

You wait.

“I like you, Hinode-san,” she says. “I think we could be good together. Professionally, personally, whatever. But I’m not going to be someone’s second choice.”

“You’re not…”

“Let me finish.” She holds up a hand. “I believe you when you say you don’t understand what’s happening with this Tsuki person. I even believe you when you say you want to be here, with me.”

“I do.”

“I know.” She sets down her cup. “But I also know what I heard last night. You weren’t just dreaming about her. You were terrified of her. And when you said her name…” She trails off. Shakes her head. “There was longing in your voice. Need.”

“I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Then don’t. Not now.” She takes another sip. “Here’s what I propose. The business arrangement stands. My father likes you. The restructuring work is real. I’ll make sure you get it, because you deserve it, and because it’s the right decision for the family.”

“But?”

“But this—” she gestures between you “—needs to wait. Until you figure out what you want. Who you want.”

“Eunbi…”

“Figure it out Hinode-san.” She says it simply. Without cruelty. “I mean that. Whatever this is, obsession, curse, trauma response, I don’t know, you need to figure it out. Not for me. For you.”

“And if I do? If I figure it out and come back?”

Her jaw unclenches. The sharpness leaves her face.

“If I’m still not taken then we’ll have a different conversation.” She reaches across the counter. Squeezes your hand once, then lets go. “I like you, Akihiro. More than I probably should. But I didn’t build a career by making exceptions for people who couldn’t even meet me halfway.”

“That’s fair.”

“I know it is.” She checks her watch. “You have a meeting with my father in two hours. The car will be here in ninety minutes. I suggest you shower.”

“Eunbi…”

“We’re okay.” She says it firmly. Like she’s decided it. “This isn’t goodbye. It’s just… a pause. Figure out your ghost. Then call me.”

She disappears into her bedroom before you can respond.

You stand alone in the kitchen of her penthouse you don’t deserve, drinking coffee that’s better than anything you’ve ever made, watching Seoul wake up beyond the windows.

Your phone buzzes. You check it more reflexively than expectantly.

Kim Jiwoo · Seoul Financial Review: Hinode-san. Following up. The Polaris piece is closing this week and I think we should talk before it runs.

You don’t answer. You don’t even read past the first line. You put the phone face-down on the countertop.

A minute later it buzzes again. This time you look.

般若: well done

Two words. Nothing else. You stare at the screen until it goes dark.

She knew. She always knows.

I’m what you can’t stop wanting.

You’re starting to believe her.

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

The rest of the week passes in a blur of meetings, contracts, and careful distance.

Eunbi is professional, cordial, and warm; business associates type of warm. A hand on your shoulder during introductions. A smile when you make a clever point. Nothing that would seem out of place to an observer.

But she doesn’t touch you or look at you like she did that night. Whatever door opened between you, she’s closed it. Gently but firmly. You don’t push. You wouldn’t know how.

The work is solid. The Kwon family is complicated but you’re used to complicated (Eunbi wasn’t exaggerating comparing it to Game of Thrones, only unlike the show you’ve produced a better ending).

By Saturday, you’ve outlined a restructuring plan that will save them approximately twelve million dollars in tax liability while keeping the various cousins from actively murdering each other.

“Impressive,” Minjun says when you present it. “You work fast.”

“I had good information to work with.”

“My daughter said you’d be modest.” He signs the retainer agreement with a flourish. “She also said you were more interesting than you let on. I’m inclined to agree.”

You fly back to Tokyo that evening. Eunbi sees you off at the airport.

“Thank you,” you tell her. “For all of it.”

“Don’t thank me. This is business.” But she smiles when she says it. “Figure out your ghost, Hinode-san. Then call me.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Then you’ll have a very successful consulting career and a string of mediocre relationships.” She kisses your cheek. “But I don’t think that’s what you want.”

Your phone buzzes between you. Eunbi glances at the screen automatically. So do you.

Kim Jiwoo · Seoul Financial Review

“The Polaris journalist,” Eunbi says. “I know her.”

“She’s been emailing for weeks.”

“About Ishikawa?”

“About something else, she keeps saying. I haven’t found out what.”

Eunbi looks at you. Says nothing. Files the information away the way you’ve watched her file every other piece of information about you all week.

She walks away before you can respond.

Your flight lands at Narita at 8PM. You take the train home. Climb the stairs to your apartment.

The door is unlocked.

You know who’s waiting before you even step inside.

But when you open the door, what you find stops you cold.

Tsuki is on your couch. Same position as before. Same book in her hands.

She’s completely naked.

Every inch of her exposed. Pale skin glowing in the lamplight. Those full breasts you’ve only glimpsed before. The curve of her waist, the swell of her hips.

She doesn’t look up from the book.

Her mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.

“Welcome home, Aki-kun,” she says. “We need to talk.”

You don’t react. But you’ve never seen her hesitate. Three weeks of texts. Two encounters: the hotel and your apartment. The corridor. And you’ve never seen her need a second to find a word.

You don’t say anything about it.

You don’t think she noticed.

You stand in the doorway, frozen, unable to look away.

“Close the door, Akihiro-kun.” She finally looks up. Those flat, dark eyes. That dangerous smile. “You’re letting the cold in.”

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

A/N: So… You stayed for another chapter. Good boy~. I wasn't entirely sure you would, after what I did to him. You and I have more time together coming; Bunn is taking his time, as usual. Leave a comment so he knows you want what's next. A like, a follow, a recommend; all of it reaches him. All of it reaches me~ (And some of you reached me very thoroughly last time. Thank you. Do that again.) Reviews and suggestions welcome. I'd be very disappointed if you held them back from me. See you in the next chapter, reader-san~ — 般若

[starconstruction]

kpop smut 100% route

Male Reader x Jiyeon, Winter, Jiyu, Asa, Rei, Sooin, Jiwoo, Sullyoon, Chuu, Dayeon, Nien, Tsuki (smut)

these images are a lot bigger and more annoying on tumblr, I suggest reading on fanprose 4.2k words. If you read my post yesterday you get the vibe, it's a 2 hour writing challenge.

New run, new game, hell yeah.

The first game was so successful they made a sequel, new idols, new route. All that good stuff. However, they rushed the fuck out of it so the route is even more buggy than last time.

And Jiyeon is still the tutorial.

But now she's in a pizza shop, don't ask. Just know that you have to compress yourself into a pizza box to clip yourself back into the back where she is. The oven is normally too hot to fuck so that's what you have to disable, not today though. You simply just broke it before coming in.

Like a good dough, Jiyeon is very easy to knead. kneading her thighs as she bent herself 180*, she's the most flexible woman you've ever seen. It's truly quite incredible, her hands are on the floor and you are slapping your cock against her clit for good measure. "W-welcome to my pizza shop, is this the tip?"

Well, you didn't think of it like that– until you've heard this one line about 50 times. And you are down to give Jiyeon not just the tip, Rubbing it headily against her messy entrance as you pushed inside it. "This is your payment for being such a fucking good girl at making pizza."

"Mm, did your card decline and you came to fuck me or?" No, your card definitely accepted. You hit an infinite money exploit long before starting the run, cheat codes and everything.

"No this is just, a special treatment." You are one to reiterate while thrusting in and out, it's the most controlled rate of this run. The main mechanic difference between the two games is that it's optimal to treat the women how they want as opposed to trying to rush through it, it makes as little sense for a speedrun while making perfect sense.

At least the women are finally also getting the pleasure they deserved.

"Mmh, special meat… I like it." Jiyeon's quivering, struggling to keep herself in the position. Why was a pizza worker so flexible? You feel bad, lifting her up and helping pushing her into the counter. Knocking over a can of tomato sauce onto the floor, luckily its not opened.

"You have quite a nice, oven…" You moan, feeling the warmth of her pussy swallowing you tight and greedily. And the wood-fired oven over there is pretty nice. "Would like to put something in it."

As weird as it sounds, Winter is just next door to Jiyeon's pizza store, in the nearby lake. You normally have to swim or get a boat, but simply put… Winter appears in the wrong place if Jiyeon was the woman you plowed last, like a 5th boss being second because the code is fucked.

"Hey." Winter waterboards you with her pussy, riding your face with fervor. This is the most relaxing part, she takes her pleasure and you use your tongue like she wants it. A toy feasting.

You respond with gargles, hm’s and whatever she wants while you drink all of Winter's intoxicating juices. It's sweet, addictive and the direct reason you've lost so many of your runs… because you lose all your time getting lost in it.

"You are so confident, crossing a lake just to eat me out, good boy." Well, not quite but close enough you suppose. Your hands grab onto Winter's tight asscheeks, not as good loaves as Jiyeon but that's her profession. It's like comparing apples and oranges, can't do that.

There's enough pleasure from Winter suffocating you with her pussy that you throb into the cold night air, licking and lapping her slick like a feral beast. Absolutely divine, it's like heaven. Which is a great contrast from the hell of the previous game, character development.

(oh, for the skipped cutscene, Winter is the direct antithesis and mutation of Jinsoul… don't ask, again.)

"Just going to admire how you suffocate under me, look at you getting all red. You'd let me kill you to keep having a taste right?" You know that's impossible, but you are leaking pre-cum. So it's still working like an old bike. "You always go above and beyond."

Above and beyond, all these sloppy licks and desperate mewls. Winter's wetness seeps out further, refusing to let you have any oxygen. "I'm, close, fuck, good bye make me cum!" And with that, she paints your face with her release, you couldn't be happier.

Jiyu is harder to get to, you have to jump into that lake. Drown yourself, it's very nostalgic really– call back referencing. A sign of a fantastic piece of work.

Then you spawn into the library where she is, the private room where shes so shy. "Are you sure? Someone could walk in…" She's meek, meeping accidentally while talking, the hints of nervousness are the best part of her character. The door's locked, you locked it.

You remind her of such.

"okay…"

That's enough for Jiyu to get on her knees, big eyes with bigger glasses looking up at you– it's adorable. Adorable also describes the way her lips part to let her tongue lick the beads of pre-cum that formulated during your tryst with Winter. She smiles softly at the taste, though she's still blushing redder than a tomato. It's embarassing to her yet the only thing she wants to do at the moment.

No matter how many runs you do, it still makes you swoon. And you fall back into the chair when she takes the tip into her mouth and just the tip, she's unpracticed, inexperienced and very cute. Her eyes look for some confirmation, some praise.

You are so happy to give it.

" That's, very good Jiyu. Fucking hell." She blushes brighter, the concept of getting caught off guard by swearing while someone's cock is pushing its way into your mouth is fascinating. She lets it sink further, she's taken half and that's the only half she'll take. Bobbing up and down on what she can take without choking, it's plenty pleasureful enough. Especially after everything else.

"You are so talented, so dorky." Calling her a dork may seem rude, and it is. But it's that rudeness that has her legs pressed together, rubbing together her thighs as her panties are drenched with an arousal that she would clam up before admitting. If you play it properly it's a whole hour of the game. Which is far too long for your purposes, just know she's getting off in multiple ways.

Ah, Asa, Asa Asa Asa.

The DLC woman of the first game promoted to an actual required main game encounter, you don't mind. Though you wish it saved your interaction with her. Though her cake is directly in front of you, presented to you as breakfast in bed.

How did you get here? Well you picked up a lemon ice tea on the way home before going to bed, summoning ritual. Your tongue samples a taste of Asa's ass before the sleep is even rubbed out of your eyes, she's whimpering as you circle her rim.

"How's your, wow breakfast?" She's confident in her bakery, something that's a sign of any quality baker. You can't speak, which you think she'd realise because she's pushing her fat tasty ass against your face, but logic falls to the way side with pleasure.

But it's a very good breakfast, 10/10, no notes. Perfect from everything to everything. You taste her sinful hole that you will plow multiple times. The entire path after this is just Asa's Anal Adventures but you don't get to experience it for the 100% route, which should really be called the true ending route. Because you don't do everything.

Blame the moderators, or something…

Anyways, eating her ass is one of the things that gives you joy in this route. (It might seem like everything does, since there's always a vocal point– and well duh, you are plowing 12 hot ass women back to back.) Her breathy reactions, her body language that is forced out of her as your tongue rims her. You are rock hard, underneath the bed sheets waiting to be freed.

She pushes you deeper, your finger finds a way to navigate the treacherous suffocating angle of her ass to slip a finger inside her wetness, working in tandem. Enjoy your breakfast, playing with your food is just encouraged in this case. Asa is the food and it's deserving of a Michelin star, maybe three.

Though you don't want the speedrun to start charging you for this section, would be needless grinding knowing them it'd be another currency.

Rei's ass getting fucked on a beanbag. "Ah! Pound my tight asshole, please, come on!" Rei's loud from the first moment, probably because you teleported halfway through the scene. The beans make it hard to plow her, going 'weee' ''wooo' and 'ahh' in between moans like your on a fucking rollercoaster.

"Please, woow, my ass needs you!" Well she's quite persistent, you grab onto her blonde pigtails and pull her head back. Let the beautiful moans free for you to hear, it'd be a real shame if it was denied to be heard. You've done both, you prefer this way.

"How bad?"

"So bad, If I walk you've failed!" No, you've failed if you get a bad time, and if you are tracking. You are right on cue, The lube used is now everywhere, splattering the beanbag in transparent globs. Speaking of everywhere, her thighs are absolutely drenched in her arousal. "Yes!"

"Tight, ass, fuck!" Her ass is fully stretched around you, so nicely that it's next-to-impossible to think about anything else. Except the timer, that's clocking. This might be your worst split yet, you've gotten nothing out of this. Fuck.

You kick it into overdrive, fuck the bean bag, fuck rei. Putting her on the floor, proneboning her ass with all the energy you have. Turning a bad situation into a better one, harshly slapping into Rei's butt. She finishes on the carpet and you finish in the tight slutty hole of her ass.

The way out is Minecraft, what sort of dual video game crossover is this? You kill an enderman and go to the nearby village, where Sullyoon is lying spread. Two thoughts on your head is– does she do that stuff? The answer is yes, the second thought is closing the gap.

That gap is closed as Sullyoon grabs onto your shirt, tugs you close, pushes your cock inside of her as you look through the stained glass window and creeper head on her table. "Fuck, this is better than Minecraft."

Is that possible? You'll take the compliment, following it up by pushing her feet to sit next to her ears and use her body.

What does a mating press and a stack of wheat have in common? They both result in bread.

Sullyoon takes your cock as elegantly as they cum, impaling her all the way to the hilt and then back out half way. Hitting every spot Sullyoon needs, Sullyoon craves. She moans at the constant assault, letting you ravage her for all that time permits.

"Yes, yes, yes!" She moans like a whole choir, your cock aches every second you are inside Sullyoon. So desperate to cum yet the Minecraft world puts slowness five on your orgasm, it's a fixed section. Can't go slower, can't go faster.

But you still give the bed and Sullyoon's womb the 1 load cycle. Pounding her senseless– her thighs shaking in your grip, she's crumbling. Taking every thrust into her wet depths. There's a lot of doing in this speedrun so you like this on rails section. If Sullyoon wasn't so fucking hot you could just sit there and you'd both cum after 10 minutes.

The end of that rail is coming, and you get off the minecart. "Rnghhhh!" She sounds like a mob, you pump all of your load deep inside Sullyoon, breeding her like the village makes bread.

Dayeon is the sleeper agent of this run, the section that isn't supposed to end your speedrun. It has, and it might. The premise is simple, you are laying down. Dayeon has a glass dildo pushing in and out of your ass, thrusting in and out as she looks divine in that post-workout sports bra and sweaty chest.

Why does this one end your runs? Well you can't cum too quickly, triggers a second round that wastes too much time. Even when she abuses your ass with seven inches and has her vibrator against your tip at fullwhirl.

"Bet you were waiting for this, tired of not getting treated right? Waiting to crumble for me." Dayeon smirks, replacing her vibrator with her tongue to reap her reward before swapping it back. "Speak."

"Y-yes, I love how you treat me."

"I treat you the best, nobody will ever make you cum as hard as I will." That's a guarantee, she somehow adds to the pleasure– takes your balls into her mouth. Keeps the pressure up as she sucks, thrusts and does all sort of things.

You are seeing stars, obstructing your vision and throbbing wildly. The sudden endurance change makes things very hard, harder than you are. Pretty impressive since you are a tungsten rod at this point. "Keep taking it, dont' cum yet. Right? You wouldn't want to disappoint me."

"no, no Dayeon I do not…"

"Good."

A few more thrusts and the timer in your head is finished, it's a time save to cum now. So you put all of your strength into doing just that, Dayeon smiling as you defile her vibrator with your load. "Such a thick load…"

Sooin, Sooin, soon you will be in. First you have to do the obligatory slenderman section where you find her eight pages to make her phone number.

Fixed locations, so you jump from left, right, middle, down, down, middle, left, left, right. Then you are in Sooin's bedroom. She's smoking indoors, how wildly irresponsible. Even more irresponsible that she lets you fuck her thighs at the same time, she takes a hit of her cigarette while you are in between her pillowy legs.

And there's a mirror.

So you get to see it all, all it's glory, her black hair. The slight trace of sweat on her body, the red blooming behind the thin veil of smoke that appears in front of her from the red circle. "You aren't too bad at this." She praises, rubbing your tip with a finger not responsible for her cigarette, that's all she needs to do, rub underneath– hitting the ridges that make you throb. "All of this effort and you don't even get my full attention, don't get the feeling of being inside me, just the wetness on one side of your cock. Do you not feel shame?"

Why would you? You know how this goes outside of the speedrun, that cigarette is branded into your skin and she's squirting onto the mirror, shame you don't get to experience it. You keep fucking her thighs slowly, kissing her neck, leaving marks that will blossom purple.

"It's a nice dick, so fun to toy with. She plays with the pre-cum, lets it split between her fingers and fall onto the parts between her fingers. You are her toy, her thing to tease. You got to give the developers credit, they have made a lot of more innovative sections of gameplay for this sequel.

"Throbbing so desperately, are you going to paint my thighs? Show me how much you like them?" Sooin taps your tip one last time, giggling as you spurt everywhere, cum falling in a rainshower down onto her legs.

Out you are, now you are on a beach. Because everything needs it's obligatory beach episode where it can put their women in a bikini. Are you complaining? Not really, Jiwoo's in a nice white two piece. There's nobody around, thanks to a sign you placed earlier when you weren't looking.

Jiwoo's on a towel, you don't take her bikini off, just move it in a way that lets you take the plunge. "This is a nice vacation aint it?" Jiwoo's acting lke you aren't even inside her, just touching herself up in the mirror– making herself look nice. "You've picked a nice beach."

You've certainly picked a nice beach, if Jiwoo is the beach and her tits are Sandcastles. "Yeah, thanks."

Her bikini is pulled down and her tits are free, free for you to touch and admire. You do that while shes now on her phone, talking to someone as you enjoy the warmth of her body and the sun on your back. Teasing her nipples with your fingers until they get rock hard, then you spit on them– a singular thick white blob on both, rubbing the spit into them as she moans. still she doesn't pay you much mind.

"Hey there Carmen, just on vacation… we've got two weeks here?" She moans, you really hope she's not on video call, or she doesn't pan the camera lower. Theres a 30% chance for each outcome, roguelike elements in my story fucking idol game. How awesome.

"Yeah he's here, just, enjoying the view and warmth." She says it innocently, so it's that one where Carmen isn't clued in. Cool.

The waves start to crash behind you a lot more aggressively, that's a sign Jiwoo is getting close. A metaphor for nature, how sick. As the waves capsize a few surfers Jiwoo cums, getting your cock wetter than it already was– making the white towel slightly less white.

You are quick to rectify it not being white, giving Jiwoo the creamipe she deserves.

Tsuki's the only girl who comes to your bedroom. A game that prides itself on customisation with only one of the women ever actually utilising that space, notes for the inevitable third game. This sections honestly quite boring. You are laying down on your bed, Tsuki's laying down on you. Cockwarming you as you both watch the television.

The show's custom made, she squeezes around your length while you both watch. There's a cat, trying to fight against the moon. The cat runs away from twelve moon-bound servants, trying to bring her to a vet and dispatch them from the world.

"Fuck, this shows so good." Tsuki's in awe at the show, you are at awe you get to take a breather from the run. Tsuki's very hot, but you can't see much, can't do much. It's an onrails section without the railing.

"Yeah, the background is very cool looking."

"Such good set design."

This is mundane, a dead section. Wait you almost forgot to practice your new trick, close your eyes. Wait five seconds, Lip gloss.

Chuu takes a similar role to Asa of the first game, your ability to skip doing Karina and Chaewon in order to unlock the final pillar to get the true ending of the game. Where Tsuki's show involved fighting the moon, Chuu is literally on the moon. But making a rocket ship can take way too long, soo grab a parachute and hump the wall until it launches .

You are on the lunar surface, Chuu is there in all her celestial glory– wearing an elegant white dress and hovering off the surface. This part is a mind fuck, it always hurts your soul.

Deep breath.

Believe.

"Incarnis, Magiu!" Chuu casts a spell, you fall asleep.

It's night, Chuu is riding you. It's day, Chuu is riding you. What time is it? There's sounds, Chuu is biting both of ears at the same time, making you shiver, hard. She's riding you while doing this, head fucking you.

Face fucking you with her cunt as well.

Then it's back to the moon, she's got you in amazon. Making you slam roughly against her, all sensations are ever present. Escalating, every thrust stacks more pleasure, you really can't breathe. She's taken your breath away.

She is trying to kill you, that much should be obvious.

It's the beginning of the game now, Jiyeon is replaced by Chuu and instead of her folding you're folding. Then she's riding your face instead of winter. Jiyu's blowjob becomes you giving her a blowjob. Everything that's happened replaces in an alternative way, contextualizes the scene in a way that never gets easier to endure.

You need to break free, you say the words.

"Vessel, though i am unworthy, free me from these chains!" That's enough to…

Pull you back into the real world. Your world, back on the moon. Chuu and you are fighting for the final blows, cock to pussy, she fucks you and you fuck her. Time is going quick, you need to do this before you suffocate.

You win in the end. She's on the moon rock, asleep from the most mind blowing orgasm.

Fuck. This is it, the final fight. The final battle.

A beam of light fires from the sun, pulling you into Nien's arena. Then there it is, the final text.

A boss's health bar.

Nien, Sun's Personification.

It never gets less scary, especially with how hot it is. Being literally inside the sun does make it hard to move, you are sweating buckets.

"You think you can best me? Just because you best Jiyeon." Oh yeah, she's technically also evil. The lore's complicated, starting and ending with the same force. Oh well, you are focused on getting the sub two-hour.

"Of course I can. Chuu couldn't stop me."

"I had no expectation of her to succeed, but you will die by my pleasure." The flames of the sun form chains that try to bind you into place, you backflip out of the way. Running up closer. Going for your first blow, a kiss on the lips. Landing it, winning the first exchange.

"Divine judgemnt awaits!" She shouts, if the chains don't work she'll make it work. throwing her underwear towards your feet, binding your legs together as you fall back into the sun's firey gas. "Apologises in advance for your demise!"

You probably shouldn't, but you try a new strat. Laying there, Let her make her move, mantle your cock and start riding it. She's turned on, every thrust makes the sun around you pulse and spark. "I will win!"

False, this is a piece of cake.

Nien's hands hold onto your chest, keeping you from making your move as she refuses to let your cock, trapped in her warmth. Obviously the hottest, actually too hot. But she is the fucking sun. You expect nothing more.

She's dazed by the pleasure as you hit her g-spot, this is your move. Pushing her back, pulling out of her warm cavern. You make the move, plunging your fingers into the Sun. Triggering phase 3, Nien and you are in a similar stalemate to you and Chuu, both racing to make the other person cum and pass out before you lose. The only difference is you are plowing her ass, her toned abs the vocal point for your eyes because anything else would be too dangerous.

You must endure, endure this abnormal ass ending. Claim the world-record for both games, you are so far ahead of pace. Just hold on…

"No, you will not beat- fuck! win!" Nien is delirious with pleasure, the sun is shaking, it's about to blow. You will free the world from her gaze, or whatever the plot actually is. You can only focus on Nien's body, come on.. come on!

"No, no, fuck, your cock is too good! I am–" That's it, the sun has cum, Nien squirts all over your body and goes limp. Laying in her own star, you need to get out, firing your thick load all over her chest (it's a requirement for true ending)

The sun starts to faint, its out of your control. Disappearing and spitting you out back towards earth. You've won, holy shit you've done it.

[bunnsfw]

The fact that Hannya probably has 6 chapters makes me hyped bc im excited for 4 more chapters, but also "sad" it might end in 4 chapters 🫠

(P.S. im greedy, i know... sorry 😅 thanks for the amazing work nonetheless!)

It's ok to be greedy; but yes, you are correct. Hannya will definitely end in six chapters. Watch out what happens to our favorite plaything Aki-kun~ and I hope you be a good boy and cheer me on as well.

♡ -般若

[ggidolsmuts]

Pressure - ARTMS Choerry

Beep beep beep

Choerry checks the thermometer and calls out from bed.

"Oppa?"

"Yeah?"

"My temperature went up."

"And you sure it's not a fever?" You sit by Choerry, feeling her forehead.

"No silly." She pulls your hand from her forehead to her tummy. "The heat's here."

There it is, Choerry's not so subtle pressure for you to put a baby in her. Every month she checks her temperature, and she knows exactly when to turn the heat up on you, so to speak. She's doing it right now, her shorts and top barely hanging on to her, so loose you could yank it off her if you're not careful, which is exactly what she wants. You don't help your own case either, allowing her to pull you into bed easily.

"You know... It is my birthday this weekend."

"I know, and we have a birthday dinner for two booked at that very fancy restaurant you've always wanted to go to." You pull her in for a kiss and Choerry swings a leg across you, but you push it off gently. "It wouldn't do to be late."

"Mmmm we can just cancel can't we? I'd rather be late for something else." Even when playful Choerry exerts pressure.

"No, it's fully prepaid, and let me tell you it is not cheap."

"Fine... But I'm going to want a present for dessert."

Once she's out of bed Choerry is back to her cheerful sunny self, and she is an absolute joy to be around for the dinner, happily celebrating and smiling at the staff, thanking them graciously for the good food and service as the two of you left.

"Oppa, I think I'm drunk..." Choerry sighs as the two of you return, dropping her handbag on the table. The pressure campaign begins anew.

"You had one glass of wine."

"Regardless..." She sighs theaterically again, letting a strap slip off her dress. The passive pressure, specifically the fact that Choerry looks delicious at all hours, begins to weigh on you, especially with the glass of wine you also had. "Can you take me to bed oppa?"

You carry Choerry to the bedroom, and as soon as you put her down on the bed she wraps her arms around your neck, pulling you over her.

"Choerry wants her dessert."

"Do you want it that badly?"

"Don't you?" She shrugs her arm out of the other strap, finger playfully pulling her dress down just a little, as if pressuring you to rip it further down. "It's my birthday, don't you want to celebrate another one nine months from now?"

"I wouldn't mind celebrating another one this year." You pause. "Well, other than my own." Choerry can't help but giggle.

"Don't think too much oppa." She pouts cutely above, even as her hands being to pull down your shorts below. "Choerry's going to be upset if you don't give her her dessert."

Minutes later it's Choerry's turn to feel the pressure, and it is wonderful, the pressure of your body pressing on top of her, and of your cock pressing against her womb. You're shoved deep inside her, making her feel utterly filled as you stretch her to the point of whimpering. You grind your tip against her entrance, and Choerry groans, huffing as if bearing the pressure directly.

"Is this where you want your dessert?"

"Yes, oh god you're so deep inside me, I love that you get so deep, so thick and long and raw— Ah!" Choerry in bed is as sexy and filthy as she is happy and joyful out of it. You hug her tighter, feeling her stiff nipples rub against your chest, her legs wrapping around your hips urging you to move. Her dress is still bunched around her soon-to-be swelling midriff—Choerry's so needy she couldn't even get naked to be bred.

"So tight Choerry!" She's clenching around you hard, but the pressure hasn't built to it's highest point yet, to when Choerry loses control and starts making your mind melt with how she hard she milks you. But she's not far off, and maybe because she's fertile but it feels even better thrusting into her hot wetness. "I don't think I can pull out."

That does it for Choerry, juicy thighs squeezing against your sides—she's begging you not to pull out, urging you to blast her tight little belly full of cum until she feels the pressure of it pushing outwards from her tummy. Every thrust pushes against her cervix, as if to pressure her womb to get bred, and Choerry withstands it for now, holding back as she feels you throb and swell and—

"Oppa!" With a shriek it all breaks for Choerry, and her entire body tightens around you suffocatingly. Your mind turns to mush as her pussy milking your cock erratically sends the "breed" signal straight up your spine, and you unload your entire reserve of cum into Choerry, splattering her egg with all the pent up pressure you have—pressure from your parents, pressure from her parents, pressure from Choerry looking so breedable all the damn time, pressure from Choerry begging for it whenever she's fertile, and most importantly, pressure from yourself to let go and knock her up like everyone (yourself included) wants you to.

Your groan is a long drawn out rumble as ropes and ropes of cum leave you, draining you completely while you push and clench and thrust slowly, forcing every chance to knock Choerry up into her. She's moaning hoarsely, as if her breathing's not quite right with how filled up she is, insides pushed out of place with how much pressure you just put into her.

"It's so good, so so good... Thank you for the birthday present oppa..." Choerry's in a bit of a daze, and you hug her tightly until she gently taps your shoulder, lightly pushing you off. You slip out of her, but to your surprise nothing's leaking out of her at all. You look up to see Choerry's focused face—she's flexing her muscles, trying to keep all of it in her!

"Nngh don't!" You spread her cum-filled pussy slightly, but Choerry still manages to keep it in. A little rub of her clit is her undoing however, as one pleasurable spasm later a veritable plug of thick seed surges out of her.

"Nooo oppa!" She's back to her cute self, blushing as you watch your load continue to flow out of her.

"Sorry, I have your favorite cake in the fridge for dessert, but first..." You swipe a bit of the cum with your finger, and paint a line across Choerry's cheek. She pouts but sticks out her lips, and you give her a peck.

"Happy birthday love."

A/N: Something quick and dirty for a particular Choerry lover XD Based loosely on her song Pressure, but I wanted to see how many times I could use the word too lol, thanks for reading!

[writerpeach]

Bite

Aespa Ningning x m!reader

7011 words

---

Read on Fanprose for a better experience

It's raining again. Not a light drizzle, but a steady, torrential downpour, and there's one person to blame—you know this. The fact that you're having to get up from your comfy chair, put your mug down on the table and walk the several paces over to the front door because she, once again, is at it.

You find it surprising how whenever it rains, the moment that thunder echoes across the city, there's an almost frantic knock that follows. And of course, once you finally open it, the culprit is right there on the other side.

Ning Yizhuo. Your annoying, meddling, definitely too-involved, overly-attached-and-obsessed, whatever the fuck you wanna call the relationship you share with the girl. You'd call her an ex, but you never officially ended anything. Even with an ocean between the two of you, she'd still find a way, at some point or another, to show up at the doorstep in the middle of the night,

So you sigh at her presence—yet, not because you hate seeing her. No, quite the opposite. It's only out of some kind of spite that you keep her waiting, lingering there outside your house in the rain. Like this is the universe punishing you for past transgressions.

Against your better judgment, you open the door, checking if the doorknob is hot first.

There she stands, looking too attractive in all black, thin stockings, torn somehow, a way too tight skirt hugging her waist. Low cut top, visible through a dark coat, with far too much cleavage to defend against.

And somehow, nothing looks out of place—despite having no other option but to brave the rain to see you.

"Is this your doing, I assume?"

The expression on her face drops from hopeful to annoyance in mere seconds. Ningning rolls her eyes and takes a step forward. You take a step back.

"What, the sky? Please, not even I can control the weather."

"Then why do you always show up whenever there's a storm?"

She pauses, folding her arms. "Call it a coincidence. Now, aren't you gonna invite me inside?"

You hesitate as the storm begins to worsen. Not only the rain but the booming thunder and lightning that chases it, so bad that the entire street lights up. In all honesty, you know that you don't really have another choice. It's not like she'll physically enter the house if you don't allow it, yet she's just insufferable enough to camp in the driveway until the sun comes out.

"Do you even get wet, Ning? You're practically standing in a monsoon out there, and not a spot on you."

"Depends if your pants are still on or not," she fires back, that wicked smile always wide and ready to strike.

You've made worse mistakes than this, you suppose—even though a little voice at the back of your mind urges otherwise.

"Come inside," you say, already regretting the words the moment they leave your lips, gesturing to the open door.

Ningning can't help but smirk. "If things go right tonight, that's what I'll be telling you later, baby."

And just like that, she moves past the doorframe into your place—heading inside like she owns the place.

There's no point in pretending that this isn't an impromptu visit from your not-ex. She kicks her heels off, hanging her coat on the rack beside the door and making you wonder just how many times Ningning has shown up completely dry in the midst of pouring rain.

"So, what did I interrupt that was so important that you took forever to open the door?" Ningning asks, standing around as if she didn't show up uninvited, as if you're expected to drop to your knees just because she's arrived.

"Enjoying the peace, Ning, that's what. It's late," you reply, feeling an incoming headache at having to deal with her. "Maybe if you sent a warning—"

She ignores everything. Stares as you sit back down on the couch, your tea more than a little cold now. "Typical."

You roll your eyes, fighting not to pick an argument while she surveys the place. "Typical what?"

She ignores you again. Somehow unbothered and distant, focused entirely elsewhere—just as if nothing has happened between the two of you. The absolute gall, she has.

"Well, I'm glad you're up at this hour. Even better you're alone."

Now you're the one ignoring her, leaning back down on the couch to finish the last sips of tea, a nagging feeling brewing the pit of your stomach—because there's only ever one reason why she shows up late at night, and it's not to chat over tea.

Much to your chagrin, Ningning looks directly at you, but she moves close—very close, until there's a dangerous look in her eyes while she smiles. "Have you eaten yet?

"A bit, but not really—"

Ningning shakes her head, taunting with a feigned annoyance at your response. "How is it you never have food in this damn house?"

"Don't get hungry often enough, I guess," you say, fighting to keep your eyes off of her outfit.

She nods in response, crossing her arms. "I see. Well then—"

The storm rages on outside the living room window, but your focus is stolen entirely away as Ningning approaches, positioning herself in a spot right in front of your line of sight, as if to distract. Not that it's a hard thing to do. Not when she's wearing a tiny little thing she calls a skirt, stockings that do her legs far too much of a favor, and a top that struggles to contain much of anything.

"Yes, Ning?"

There's a moment that passes by where Ningning stares long enough that you're uncomfortable, long enough to where you feel as if the moment can shatter at any second.

"Look, before I say anything else," she begins, still standing in place as those eyes stay locked on you. "Had to take the train here. Nothing was fucking available. Then a taxi—since you had to live out in bumfuck nowhere. I'm tired, and sore—I'm absolutely starving. Not for food, obviously."

"Obviously," you repeat, hardly in shock with her direct nature. She's hardly ever subtle. "Then take what you need. Don't have to ask twice."

Her lips curl up. "Thanks, sweetie. Knew there was a reason why I liked you."

Without anything further, Ningning is quick—far too quick for your liking while she climbs atop, legs on either side, straddling you—close enough so you can feel the heat on your skin. You sit idly by and soak it all in.

"This'll hurt just a little bit—" she says, before her lips press deep so she can pepper several kisses along the side of your neck. "Just keep still. I'll be quick."

"Don't be."

You don't even register the words that come out of your mouth, not fully, at least. Ningning smirks, running her fingers through your hair, smiling in satisfaction that you've somehow fallen into her trap yet again.

"Darling, I will tear you apart if you let me have my way."

You'd damn near let her.

Ningning's not the type to wait around, tilting her head back so she can bare her glistening fangs, primed and ready to devour you whole in the process. They sink in at the crook of your neck, piercing the skin with ease—almost at the exact same spot you remember from the last time.

Sharp pain shoots through your body in a matter of seconds, as blood flows out without pause, succumbing to her hunger, letting Ningning takes what she pleases. You hiss at the sensation—a strange mixture of pleasure and pain, not sure which is winning out, only able to watch her drain you, eyes locked in an almost sinister trance while she feeds.

Then, just like that, Ningning pulls her head back, lips stained with a crimson red that she wipes off with the back of her hand. She looks more vibrant, alive—eyes that pierce deep, more than satisfied for the night.

"Thanks, love. That's enough," she replies softly, running her fingers over the bite mark before planting a little kiss on your cheek. "Took a little more than usual. Hope you don't mind."

You laugh, looking up, lost in her gaze. "What am I gonna do, Ning, take it back? Don't worry."

"That'd be very inconvenient," Ningning says, smiling at that. "You should rest a bit, yeah? How do you feel?"

You shrug. "I'll manage. Little dizzy, but I'll survive."

"Because you have nothing to eat in this shithole. You sure you're good?"

You nod, smile returning to your face as you glance up. "Yeah, of course. Nothing I haven't handled before."

"Good." Those devilish fangs fully on display linger for one more moment until they retract. You'd be lying if you said you weren't a little disappointed.

"So, is this the part where you tell me why you showed up at midnight, wearing next to nothing?"

Ningning presses her body close, offering just enough cleavage for your eyes to wander. "Like it's a surprise I'm here."

You say nothing, and somehow, that's the one thing that actually bothers her a bit. Ningning rises, turning away, more annoyed than offended—a bit different than her usual arrogant nature. "Haven't seen you in a few months. Didn't think I needed an invitation."

"And maybe there's a reason for that."

Surprisingly, Ningning says nothing else for a fleeting moment. Laughing in spite of it all. "Wow. Is there another vampire bitch here giving you what I can't? Because last time I checked—"

"Of course not," you answer immediately, ignoring the tone in her voice.

"Good. Like I was saying, nobody fucks you like I do, and I don't think there's anyone else out there that can."

You sigh, attempting not to feed that overzealous ego even more. "Ning—"

"Don't Ning me," she snaps, the fangs exposed again, retracting within seconds. "You should be so damn grateful that I'm here right now."

"For what, so you can have a midnight snack?"

Ningning ignores that entirely, moving quickly to straddle you once more, wrapping a set of slender, ice cold fingers around your neck.

Her eyes burn into you, and you're too powerless to look away. "Say it. Say I fuck you the best. I won't leave. Not until you say it."

You ponder whether or not to comply, the air leaving your body bit by bit. Ningning squeezes just the right amount—just enough to leave you wanting more, leaving an ache between your legs.

"You're unbelievable."

"In bed, yeah, I am, aren't I?" she purrs, bringing her lips to yours, crashing them into you, hard. You kiss back, already done with resisting, because like it or not—you need Ning as much as she needs you.

"If you didn't look so sexy right now—"

Ningning cuts off the thought, shoving her tongue down your mouth to silence you. "When do I not? You've seen me at every point possible, at every hour, dressed up, down. Sexy is just the norm for me."

"Always so fucking cocky," you mutter under your breath, diving back in for another taste.

"It's not cocky, it's just the truth," Ningning says, sliding off your lap so she can lower to her knees before you. "Let me prove how accurate that statement is. Let's get these pants off…"

You're far too weak to say no, and not because of the blood loss. One swift movement from Ningning, and she has her fingers hooked at the waistband of your pants.

"May I?"

So polite. With a nod, she tugs them down, just far enough for what she has planned, revealing your boxers that aren't doing a very good job at hiding how aroused you are.

"Mmm, yeah," Ningning purrs, satisfied at what she sees as she begins to palm you over the fabric. "Was kinda worried, but got plenty of blood pumping here..."

There's only one thing left, to let Ningning do whatever she pleases, shove your boxers down so your cock can spring out, the tip practically oozing already.

 "All this for me? Gonna milk you dry tonight."

Again, there are no words that come from you, not a single thing outside a gasp. You try and keep your focus on Ningning herself—on that depraved stare when she strokes you. And she gets right down to business, pressing her tongue against the underside of your cock, flicking it a few times before taking a long drag down.

"I really missed this, baby," Ningning admits, planting several teasing kisses from base to tip, giving such satisfying strokes that make your stiff shaft leak.

You barely catch what she's saying—too focused on her touch, one that you haven't felt in far too long, by the person that knows you best. The heat from her mouth as her kisses linger along each and every inch, every vein that her hand travels down, familiarizing herself once more.

"Missed this inside my pussy, feeling how deep you fill me. Missed sucking it, missing making you cum just from this," she murmurs, staring up through those long eyelashes at you while she presses those full lips around your sensitive head, peppering it with affectionate kisses.

You simply moan, unable to get anything else out with her wet tongue swirling all over the head, savoring the taste.

"You missed me too, didn't you?"I know you did. That's why you won't push me away, or kick me out. That's why you won't ever tell me to stop."

Before you have a moment to breathe, Ningning wraps her lips around the head of your cock, trapping it in warmth, sinking down slowly. You can't hold what comes next, another loud moan that escapes as she gives a pleased hum in response, fondling your balls while her head bobs between your legs.

"Ning—"

She descends again, satisfied with that. And keeps at it—never fully down, never allowing her throat to be too full. Just slow, steady suction and delicious warmth while her tongue teases all over, sliding along base to tip, and back down, using all her tricks to draw your bliss out.

"This beautiful cock, fuck, missed the way you taste. The way you throb, how sexy you sound when you moan, mm," Ningning says, pausing just to run her tongue down every last throbbing inch. "And so, so fucking big. Mine. All mine."

Her head lowers, so sloppy and desperate, popping off just to spit on your stiff cock, spreading it all over before that heat envelops your shaft once more. All you can do is stare, every bob of her head drawing you closer to the back of her throat, a sight far too beautiful not to watch.

"God, Ning. Your fucking mouth…"

"Feels amazing, right? Nobody can make you feel this good. Nobody takes care of you like I do, baby? "

Ningning's right—of course, she's right, just like she always is, and you couldn't fight her words even if you wanted to. Because those lips know what they're doing—know how to please you, how to make you groan so pathetically, like her mouth was made just for your cock.

"I could suck your dick all day."

And you'd let her. Let Ningning take everything she wants and more. Everything feels too good—each flick, each slurp, the heat of her mouth—everything is taking you away, especially when she holds your gaze, until she finally swallows you whole in one fluid motion, nose pressed to your stomach as her lips seal tight.

"Fucking hell—"

It's almost a mistake to watch, to watch how her lips slide to the base and back down, this constant urge to please as her throat fills with every inch, tongue out with every stroke. The wetness that covers your shaft with every pass, mouth engulfing you, and all you can do is grab the back of her head, not to guide, not to control, but to simply indulge.

"Feels so fucking good, shit, nobody can do what you do, Ning."

She just stays still, eyes wide, appreciative at your words with her hands caressing your thighs, hardly any strain on her expression to have your entire aching cock buried in her throat.

"The best part is watching you lose yourself," she murmurs, popping off as saliva connects to your tip, breaking that connection so shes can stroke your the spit-covered shaft. "Lucky for you, I have no use for breathing, so I can have that big fucking cock just where it needs to be.

You're practically trembling, so close already it won't be difficult for Ningning to finish you off. That devious look she gives when reaching down to pull up her tight skirt without her lips leaving you. And it takes all you have not to lose it once you realize she has absolutely nothing underneath, her pretty, wet cunt for your viewing pleasure.

"It's a good thing you had an appetite," she says, shifting position just enough so you can see her fingers rub at her bare pussy. "Because my cunt is about ready to devour you."

Ningning says that as she picks up the pace, one finger between her legs, other hand resting on your thigh—bobbing her head at a frantic rate, taking you down and back up like nothing, not a single gag or struggle. You can't do much more than moan and stare, mouth parted and helpless, balls so tense the longer she keeps going, until Ning mercifully pops her lips from your throbbing cock.

"Thinking about how bad I want to ride you, baby. Or maybe you should have me bend over—fill me from behind and slap my ass as you give it to me. Or get all sprawled out, wrap my legs around you so you can't pull out, pound me while I scream how bad I need you. Lots of options for you to ravage my pussy, isn't there?"

The room is practically silent except for the sloppy, hungry sounds of Ningning awaiting your response, bobbing up and down your cock, tongue gliding flicking along every wet inch.

"Upstairs," you say, all out of breath—and it's all she needs to hear.

Ningning swallows you one more time, leaving a wet kiss on your swollen tip once she pulls off, ignoring your body's pleas to stay.

"Well then, lead the way my cute little fangbanger—but do be careful, I did just drain you."

In more ways than one, that's for sure.

There's a surge in motivation as you begin the trek up the stairs, Ningning close behind. Every footstep up the stairs, each thud echoes, like a countdown to your fate that awaits. You can only think of what's about to happen, the way she will take your body, and the sinful things you're going to do to her own in turn, nothing holding either of you back.

Once you arrive at the foot of your bed, Ningning is quick to shove you back with surprising force, giggling as she watches your weakened frame stumble back and land. She steps away, positioning herself close to the window, so you can see everything illuminated in the moonlight.

Ningning is unreal. Her ethereal beauty too much to handle as she undresses, her complexion glowing, that pale skin more beautiful than anything else. Those painted nails that have dug into your flesh almost as much as her sharp fangs, and your thoughts wander, watching each piece fall until a pile of her clothes lingers on underneath her bare feet.

You nearly faint once she's fully naked and turns to face you.

Every delicious curve for your eyes only, you feast on that naked skin, those pretty nipples, hardened by the cool air, those hips, luscious legs—every single inch of her more than overwhelming you. The silhouette of her body can't compare to the real thing once she closes the distance, climbing your lap in record time, hovering dangerously close to your erection.

"Been a while since you last fucked a vampire," Ningning teases, the heat of her cunt teasing the tip of your cock.

"And just whose fault is that?"

Ningning glares, spreading her wetness over the head and doing little else. "Now you're blaming me? When you made it so difficult just for me to see you?"

Before she drops her hips, Ningning allows her fangs to extend again, almost a reminder of her advantage over you. She's grazing over your chest, not using the full force just yet, merely playing with you. Little lovebites left scattered over her favorite parts of you, as if you won't remember the deep ones on your neck from earlier.

"Fucking love you like this—vulnerable, compliant, all fucking mine," Ningning purrs, catching her breath in between bites. "Bet you'd let me do anything to you tonight."

"I'd let you do anything you want anytime," you admit, realizing what comes from that statement.

She smirks at that, at your sudden honestly. Her tongue swipes the side of your face before trailing the shell of your ear, sucking on the soft flesh of your lobe. "Aren't I the lucky one, then?"

Without anything further, Ningning continues her path of destruction, trailing kisses and licks down your body. Like she's for the right moment to strike, or at god knows what else she has planned. Her lips catch a nipple, giving a few swirls that don't allow the pleasure you need, kissing down your abdomen and grazing the flesh with those fangs—those sharp things coming dangerously close, the thought of them puncturing the skin sending an orgasmic mixture of fear and arousal.

"Don't be nervous, baby," Ningning murmurs, lips tracing lower, planting kisses right below your navel that make you gasp. "Would never hurt you or do without warning. Well, without prior permission."

There's no time to give a snarky reply, nothing witty coming from your mouth as she looks at your skin she's made so sensitive, appreciating her work.

"Not nervous, Ning."

"Oh? Then I might wanna let you do what you want for a change," she murmurs into your skin. Ningning's lips hover right above your inner thighs, her hot breath enough to make you flinch, the anticipation of the bite, the delicate tease making every muscle tense up.

"You'll let me?"

Ningning laughs at your question, tongue dancing from where she left off. "Yeah, I'm giving you a freebie tonight. Have your way with me, darling."

It's a hard bargain—you don't trust her intentions, but there's no time for negotiation.

You lift her off with little effort, almost as if your strength returns without warning. Ningning's on her back, legs spread wide, glistening folds exposed to you as she waits for your next move.

"Yeah, this'll do," you say, drinking in that gorgeous view of her pretty cunt that's about to be made yours.

Ningning just smiles at the gesture. "Always knew you were a stickler for the basics. It's cute, really."

That's what she thinks. With that, you lift her legs up, resting both on your shoulders and folding her tiny frame, each of her feet by your ears. In an instant, her face changes from one of disappointment to realization, just at that split second before the plunge.

"Okay, this is different. I've misjudged, it seems—"

You say little else as your cock buries every inch in, sinking inside that soaking mess, making sure you fill her aching pussy perfectly. The groans slip out at her tightness, the wetness that consumes you, the way that Ningning looks once the motion of your hips start.

"You're fucking mine," you growl at the next slam, while her eyes nearly roll to the back of her head, her intoxicating cunt swallowing you up and clenching to make sure you won't dare leave.

"Ah, f-fuck!" she whimpers once you start to fuck her the way she needs. The way you think she deserves, the way you know the bed is going to protest to. No time for her to adjust, Ningning's tight little cunt clamps down with each desperate thrust, making sure you bury every last inch inside her.

"You're so tight—" you grunt, sweat gathering on your forehead already. "Feel too fucking good—always feel so fucking good.

Ningning looks gorgeous when she takes your cock. Hair a tangled mess, all spread out, completely at your mercy. "And you're so deep, so much deeper this way, damn, baby."

"Don't act so surprised, Ning."

"Oh, don't think I can be surprised? As if I expected this? You're never this aggressive."

"Maybe you pulled it out of me," you admit, hips snapping, watching Ningning's expression falter with each slam to the hilt. It's addicting to see her fall apart for a change, to watch those moans escape, pummeling her cunt like there's no other way, no other alternative—like your dick belongs inside her at all times.

"God, baby, look at you go," Ningning huffs out, parting her lips at the forceful treatment you're dishing out. "Making my pussy feel so good, ah—I haven't been fucked this good in ages."

"Then allow me to remedy that situation," you start, taking pleasure in the way she crumbles, the gasp she makes when you withdraw, the frantic moan when you hilt back in.

"Fuck yes, baby—give it to me. Harder, can feel you in my guts, shit," Ning cries out, throwing her head back, content to bask in the pleasure each time your cock disappears fully into her tight little pussy. "God, I needed you so bad. Needed you to fill me up so well."

"Here I am, Ning. Not going anywhere."

There's this rare moment where she can't find any witty comeback, not when that mouth hangs wide open, no snarky comments falling, nothing but pure unadulterated bliss. She's squirming, nails digging into the sheets, lifting her hips higher to let you reach places she'll feel for days.

"Fuck! Fuck, please, god yes," she pleads, struggling to find the words, staring at you through in hopes that you'll get the memo. "Please. Fuck me deeper, wanna feel all of you, want that cock to ruin me."

And that's precisely what you do—holding that position and looking Ningning right in those pretty eyes as you sink deep, pound that wet pussy until she's clinging for dear life to the sheets. She's powerless to you, or at least, pretending to be, words lost to lust as you fill her again and again.

Knowing that for once, she isn't the one in control—there's no strings attached or manipulating factors—that Ningning, that bloodthirsty, cunning, dominating vampire who can bring anyone and anything under her power, is nothing but a toy under you now. She's yours to do whatever with.

That sets something off inside of you, makes you want to push things further, take things to the next level. You shift, spread those legs wider and lift them off you until her knees almost meet her chest, folding her in half even.

Ningning's expression is filled with approval once you do, hips thrusting wildly with no mercy on her drenched pussy, hitting deeper than even before.

And now she looks delirious with pleasure, and your knees are digging into the mattress so you can get that little extra leverage, more power behind those harsh thrusts, hips working to the max, determined to ruin Ning—if it were even possible.

"That's it, destroy me, baby, make my pussy yours. Isn't it funny—you've got me in this, what do you humans call it? A mating press? And it's almost a shame that you can't breed me—makes me wish you could. Give all that hot, yummy cum something to do besides make my pussy gush."

"That's the last thing we need, another Ning. One of you is more than enough."

"You wish you had two. One to suck your hard cock in the morning and another to sit on your face. Yeah, you'd love that."

Your mind can't seem to even grasp the reality of that, picturing it all for a brief moment, only to continue hammering Ningning's tiny wet cunt. The urge, the carnal need to bring her to her brink and beyond consumes you—your hips working without rest, giving the girl no chance to recover, fucking her over and over in that delicate position with no way out of it.

Her body can't keep up with the intensity, and you can't almost either. Pinned against the mattress with nowhere to go, all that attention focused on her soaking cunt—too sensitive, too wet, too inescapable, each thrust becoming impossible to handle. For both of you.

You take pleasure watching her fall to pieces with each thrust that fills her, savoring every gasp that you cause, each plea for you to keep on driving in deep and hard.

"You, baby, keep pounding me like that—fucking my pussy and ruining it. Giving it to me so hard because you know I can take it, I can handle everything you give. Keep it going, keep going and give me what I deserve, empty those balls inside me like you own this pussy."

Hard not to when she's so convincing—staring at you, demanding your load, pleading to keep hammering that greedy cunt, your balls smacking against her asshole more than ready to dump it all in her.

"Get ready then," you say, hips losing all control—that pussy just won't relent, sucking and squeezing all around and making it harder than ever to keep going any longer.

"Oh, baby, please—I was ready to be pumped full of cum the moment you invited me in. You're gonna cum so hard, I know, fill me, make my pussy so messy. Get that hot load nice and deep in me," Ning pleads, bracing for the inevitable, too far gone for anything else.

"Don't you fucking worry, Ning, this tight pussy is getting everything," you say, sheathing yourself deep in that wetness for as long as you can stand.

"Good, then you know what to do—cum inside me."

You groan out—more than compliant with those demands, no longer fighting against the pressure boiling deep inside. No fight left from that tightness you can't escape from, so you give in, unloading as your cock empties into Ningning. The relief is heavenly, each violent throb, each hot spurt that floods her insides, her cunt clenching to demand it all, keeping you captive while you fuck it all deep.

Ningning follows not a second later, struggling to keep her composure as her own orgasm hits, face contorting in pleasure at her reward, toes curling, walls tightening even more as the sticky mess mixes with her own juices together in her hot depths.

And before you can even finishing pumping it all inside her, your fresh load leaks out that sopping, ruined cunt, pooling underneath your pleasure-stricken bodies.

"That's it, fuck… can always count on you to fill my pussy up, baby, just how I need," Ning groans, a tired smile creeping up on her face as she embraces her own bliss. "So fucking hot."

You linger in your high, and do little other than fall against her body and embrace the relief, cock slipping out enough as your cum begins to spill out and ruin the sheets further, something Ningning wears in such satisfaction.

"See?" Ning asks, a bit of smugness returning her voice, playing with your hair. "Aren't you glad you kept that sexy ass mine? "

Your body shifts, so you can focus your gaze on her beautiful complexion. Even if things may end messy again, you have no regrets. For now, all that matters is being right in the arms of the person who's never been more certain.

"You know how much I missed you, Ning," you respond, watching the way her breasts heave with the breaths that follow.

Ningning glances down at you, like that's an obvious conclusion. "Typical."

Too tired to even roll your eyes, too tired to put up with Ningning's usual antics. "Alright, sounds like its time to go back home, and—"

She wraps her legs around you, preventing movement. "And why do you think that is?"

"You got what you wanted, you drained my blood and my balls. Now you can go."

Ningning's quiet as she ponders, just long enough for a mischievous smile. "No, I don't think so. It's late—let me sleep on your sofa."

"Sleep? You don't sleep until morning."

Ningning just giggles, peppering you with kisses that break down your protests. "Then you get to entertain me until then. Deal?"

"And what if I want to sleep?"

She squeezes tighter with her legs around your waist, keeping you firmly in place. "Then you let the wrong girl inside. Do you think I'm done with you?"

Well, no, you certainly don't. That's something she'll make abundantly clear.

"Okay, fine, I'll stay up—but let me take a shower. You really made a fucking mess."

"Me? You were the one that dumped all that cum in me."

You simply stare at Ning, glaring right back at you. The more you stare, the more you both burst out into a fit of laughter, any attempts at acting serious not lasting more than a few seconds.

"No, I think your pussy deserves some blame. It had my cock trapped pretty tight—"

"But you had me all folded like a goddamn chair. Pinned and begging for your cum, that's on you."

Her eyes narrow and Ningning raises one perfectly shaped eyebrow in disbelief. You just remain there, hands lingering atop her waist. "Oh, my apologies for how rough I got with your pussy. Wasn't aware my precious Ningning was so delicate."

Ningning scoffs, using her strength to move your hands off. "I'm a goddamn vampire, don't talk to me about delicate. You can't hurt me no matter how hard you fuck."

"Is that a challenge?"

Her glare continues. "Don't get fucking cocky, love. You'll hurt yourself more than me."

"Hm, sounds like a challenge to me."

"You're such an idiot. You could literally use both hands to choke me with no mercy and I'll just laugh at how pathetic you look. Nothing you can do."

You tilt your head. "Does that mean you'd enjoy the idea?"

"I didn't say I was against it. Just won't do anything, is the point."

There's little sense in debating the merits of that claim. And you're so exhausted that you wouldn't even try. For tonight at least, you can let Ning have this victory.

The rain eventually calms down, enough for the two of you to head outside the balcony and enjoy the weather without risk. Freshly showered, with Ningning in nothing but a stolen shirt from your closet. It's late—so late, but you don't really care.

"Are you planning to make a habit of this?" you ask, knowing what you're asking might be dangerous territory.

Ningning's head turns, the grin on her face looking devilish from so close as she leans over the balcony railing. "Would it upset you if I did?"

An hour ago and you'd have a very different answer—now you aren't so sure. "No, not really. I mean, not like I can ever stop you."

Ningning just takes in your reaction, her own expression not changing a bit. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you missed me."

You sigh, staring up at the night sky as she inches a little bit closer. "A pretty girl shows up at my door and lets me do whatever I want, lets me fuck her hard against the shower wall—yeah, maybe a little."

Ningning laughs, her hand creeping around to find yours, fingers interlocking and thumb rubbing slowly against your flesh. "Is that all it takes? For me to show up, suck your dick and let you empty your balls into me, then I'm suddenly a good person?"

"Hey, I never said that—"

"Darling," she says, tightening her grip, bringing her head right next to yours, warm breath ghosting over your ear. "I'd bend over and do every dirty little thing you ask without complaint. I'd worship your cock just for the sake of making you happy. All I need is for you to say you want that. That you want me."

That gets your attention. You can't say that this night has been anything but wonderful, despite your trepidation in at the beginning. Your fingers squeeze tightly around hers, eyes focused on Ningning's pretty face in the dark, moon illuminating her features.

"God, what am I getting myself into.."

She laughs, flashing that bright smile before turning back to face the city skyline. "Hopefully me again, love."

You snake your arms over around her small waist until she's tight against you. With no shame whatsoever, you slide your hands underneath, squeezing Ningning's bare ass and pulling her into a kiss.

"But what if I wanted to do all kinds of crazy things to you, Ning? Or wanted you to do them to me?"

Ningning struggles not to smile, doing all she can to not succumb to the giddy laughter that tries to emerge. "Just tell me a time and date then. So I can catch that goddamn train."

Not letting up, you steal her lips, tasting them, savoring how soft they feel against yours, running your hands all over her cold, bare skin.

"Why catch a train when I have a perfectly good sofa for you to crash on?" you ask between kisses, trying to spend as much time pressed up against her body as possible.

"Darling," she interrupts, almost annoyed, staring directly into your eyes. "Please be serious right now. Don't treat me like I'm some random hookup."

You raise an eyebrow, confused. "I wasn't. I'm offering you a place to stay."

Ningning breaks out into a little laugh. She stops herself when you show no sign of joking.

"Wait, you're actually serious? Really? Stay?"

You interrupt her with another kiss. "Isn't that what I said? Not gonna make you sit on some shitty train for hours just to get dicked down at some ungodly hour. Stay with me. Tonight. Tomorrow night. Whenever you want."

She doesn't know what to say to that, only that her smile is spreading from ear to ear. "Of course I'll stay—thought you'd never ask. I'll happily get dicked down any time I come. Suck your dick the moment you wake up. Make breakfast, talk dirty to you while you stroke and cum on my tits, all kinds of crazy, naughty things—"

"Ning, you already have an invite, you don't need to try so hard."

She laughs it off. "What can I say, I get excited by the idea of seeing that cock at any hour."

"Christ. Is that the only reason you want to live here? Just so you can drain me dry every hour on the hour?"

The little giggle that Ningning gives is enough of an answer, knowing she can't deny the fact that it's a strong motivating force behind her plans. "No, of course not, baby. I also need you around so I can take your blood whenever I need it."

You scoff at that, threatening to leave the balcony altogether. Ningning, laughing again, wraps her arms tight around yours, refusing to let you out of her grasp. "I'm not a buffet, Ning."

"Mm," she hums, nuzzling into your neck. "You're whatever I need you to be. Your cock certainly is. Your thick, juicy, delicious—"

"Ning—"

"Yes, darling?"

"Come inside. It's freezing and the rain is starting up again. And you're not wearing anything to speak of."

Ningning laughs, clinging to your side. "Or what, I might die? Vampire, love. I could do this all night."

Another sigh escapes, pulling away only to lift her up into your arms, getting a good grip under her ass so the resounding sound of her squeal fills your ears once you carry her back inside.

"Someone is eager to go again," Ningning says, more than happy with where things are heading. You pretend that the thought doesn't cross your mind.

"No, I'm freezing and wanna go to sleep. I have work tomorrow," you say, depositing her ass right onto the cushions of the sofa before she can put up a fuss.

"It's the weekend, love," she reminds, pulling you down on the couch with her, legs already wrapping around and taking the fight out of you. "Which means you're stuck with me until Monday."

Nothing you can do but laugh at her persistence. You kiss her, once, and then pull away. Staring into her eyes, taking in her beauty, wondering if it would always be this difficult for you to escape.

"Should have listened. When people say you shouldn't feed strays. Because they always keep coming back."

Ningning's expression changes, lips turning into a far more offended pout. "Are you calling me a stray? What the fuck—"

"You always show up on my doorstep, wanting scraps and a place to rest. Is that not far off the mark?" you tease, only to be cut off by her lips.

"Rude," she mumbles between each kiss. "There are plenty of places I could be. Men to see. Bars to visit. Places to collect victims. Yet, here I am. Guess where I've chosen."

"Just sounds like you don't have anywhere else to go if you ask—"

Ningning's kisses stop abruptly, grabbing your head and guiding it down between her legs. "I didn't ask, thanks. Now if you don't mind, be a good boy and eat my pussy before I need to feed again."

There's no argument there, nothing that would ever stop you. All comfortable on your stomach before Ningning, her creamy thighs about to consume your entire existence. You might spend the entire weekend here, you think. And maybe forever.

[bunnsfw]

Hannya: Act I 堕落 (Daraku) - The Fall

Summary: You looked like a man doing math you didn't want to do. Then she sat down and made the equation worse.

Tags: Tsuki (Billlie) x Male Reader (Named OC) | Wordcount: 8,390~ | Supernatural, Smut, Corporate Drama

A/N: My name is Hinode Akihiro. Bunn graciously put ink to paper to write my story; took him months, I've heard, and he's not done yet (smh). A warning: it's not flattering at all; I'm at my lowest, okay?! I made bad decisions in a hotel suite and worse ones in a networking event. (Don't ask, just read.) One more thing: you'll be reading this from inside my head. I'd apologize, but Tsuki said you'd enjoy it. (You'll see what she means.) Leave a comment whenever you think I fucked up or said something you agree with; I promise I'll read them. Tell me at the end if you'd have done anything differently. And if I understand it right, Tsuki also said she'll reply if it compels her. -日の出 明宏

Recommend Reading This On Fanprose.

✦⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡

Seven pounds.

Who knew twelve years in a company only weighs seven pounds in a box filled with memories of getting spitroasted day and night by CFOs when they are the ones who fucked up.

“It was a pleasure working with you Hinode-san. This is what’s best for everyone. You know that, right?”

That’s what Yamamoto-san said this morning. All you can do is nod. He shook your hand. Couldn’t even meet your eyes. Asshole. 

HR slid the NDA across the table. Fourteen pages of legal garbage establishing that you had nothing to do with any of this which really makes you wonder why you’re the one carrying the box. You signed it. Of course you did. What else can you do? 

It was going well. Corner office. On track for partner. Six months from the vote.

Now you’re carrying a box past security. “Tanaka-san.”

You’ve known him for nine years. He’s giving you nothing. Not even a glance.

“See you around, yeah?”

Nine Christmases of bringing him coffee because he pulled holiday shifts so the younger guys could stay home. You know his daughter’s birthday (never missed giving her a gift.) You know his wife cooks the best okonomiyaki in Chiyoda (god you’re going to miss the bentos she prepares for everyone every summer). Tanaka-san is a good man.

But now? He’s staring blankly into his desk like it holds the secrets to the universe. Sigh.

You don’t blame him. You wouldn’t look at you either.

The revolving door spits you out into Tokyo’s buzzing October air. Risk of rain and umbrellas and exhaust and the distinct smell of a man who used to fucking matter.

Your car is three blocks away. You start walking.

Phone buzzes, you ignore it. It’s been buzzing all day actually. Past clients, colleagues, and the occasional journalist fishing for a comment on the “developing situation at Ishikawa & Partners.” Noted. Fuck that specifically. No comment. 

Here’s what’s funny. In all of this fuckery happening within the company, becoming this week’s hot topic on social media, and the ongoing federal interrogation. All that and news flash: you were not even remotely close to being involved.

You didn’t know the partners were signing off on fraudulent audits. The machinery of corruption humming along beneath your feet: shell companies, kickbacks, under-the-table transactions that got approved for the better part of a decade. 

The worst part of all of this is you just worked there. You worked your fucking ass off every single day. You were great at your job; and now you’re walking through downtown with a box containing an Ikea desk lamp, three framed certifications, and a coffee mug your sister gave you that says “World’s Most Meh Brother.”

She thought she was being funny. Right now why the hell does it feel like she knew this was gonna happen.

Your footsteps echo as you walk through the cold parking lot. The Lexus sits where you left it this morning, back when you were still a senior manager at a prestigious firm and not whatever you are now.

Unemployable. 

(Kinda being too dramatic, no? Are you being dramatic? Name one firm that will touch you now.)

…

Yeah. It’s over. Might as well pivot to becoming a geologist since you’ve hit rock bottom.

You were not fired, technically (thank god for technicalities). You resigned, which is its own kind of joke if you think about it. You resigned because the alternative was getting laid the fuck off in the first wave of “restructuring,” and at least this way you can pretend you had some say in your own downward spiral.

Everyone knows. Everyone. Fucking. Knows.

The financial world is small, news travels fast, and by tomorrow your name will be permanently welded to the biggest accounting scandal since Polaris (and that company’s done fucked up stuff: military corruption, ties to the yakuza, basically all the red flags you can think of.) Not because you did anything wrong; because you were there. 

You put the box in the trunk. Close it. Stand there with your hand on the cold metal. Let out a deep sigh.

Phone buzzes again.

This time you look. Mom.

How did it go today Aki?

We’re praying for you.

Hope you’re doing fine.

Have you eaten yet?

Four messages in the span of thirty seconds. She must be worried, classic mom. You should call her. You should explain what happened. You should…

Phone screen darkens. 

You’ll call her tomorrow; explain that the severance is generous, that you have savings, that everything will be fine.

But not tonight. Not when the wounds are fresh.

Tonight you’re going to find a bar and drink until the numbers stop adding up in your head.

✦⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡

You found a newly opened hotel in Shinjuku. The hotel bar is the kind of place that caters to shady accounts and dark secrets, you fit right in. Dark mahogany wood, warm ambient lighting, and thankfully a bartender who understands that sometimes a man needs to be served and just left alone with his bourbon.

It’s the third glass when she sits down. You feel the air thin out; must be the bourbon.

Weird.

You didn’t see anyone approaching. Didn’t hear the stool move. She’s just there, like she’s been waiting for you to notice.

Except you don’t notice her at first. 

You’re too busy staring at amber liquid, running calculations that don’t matter anymore: How much runway? Severance lasts eight months if you’re careful. Savings? Maybe another year. Parents? They definitely need the monthly support; that’s a non-negotiable. Your sister’s final year of graduate school? You promised you’d cover it, and you don’t break promises.

The numbers work, barely. As long as you find something to do in six months.

But who the fuck is going to hire you?

“You look like a man who’s doing math he doesn’t want to do.” Soft voice, slightly amused.

You look up.

She’s watching you with her dark eyes that catch the bar’s low light wrong. Pretty isn’t the word, neither is beautiful. There’s something more specific than that. Features that shouldn’t work together but create a face you can’t stop looking at. For now you settle with otherworldly.

Full lips, the kind that suggests smiles she hasn’t given you permission to receive yet. Hair dark enough to disappear into the shadows behind her. A simple black dress that definitely cost more than this month’s rent.

“Just… Running some projections,” you say. Your voice is rough, haven’t talked to a soul in hours.

“Mhmm.” She signals the bartender without looking at him. “Projections for what?”

“How long until I’m sleeping under a bridge, roughly.” (You wish you were joking.)

She laughs. Small, controlled, her face changes for a second; something flickers behind her eyes. Interest, maybe. 

“You don’t look like the bridge-sleeping type.”

“I didn’t think I was the unemployed type either, but here we are.”

The bartender sets down red wine. She picks it up, swirls it, and doesn’t drink. Pretty sure he didn’t ask what she wanted. Just set it down like he already knew.

Weird.

You’re three bourbons deep, maybe you just missed her order. Maybe she’s a regular. Maybe… 

“Ishikawa & Partners,” she says confidently. Your body tenses. “It’s on your face,” she shifts on her seat inching towards you. “That’s the kind of devastation that comes from watching something you built get burned down by people who never appreciated it. Never appreciated you.”

You take a drink, the bourbon doesn’t burn anymore. Fuck, probably a bad sign. You should probably stop drinking.

“I didn’t build anything. I just worked there.”

“For twelve years. You don’t stay somewhere for twelve years unless you’re building something.”

You didn’t tell her anything about the twelve years. You’re sure you didn’t; but the bourbon is thick in your head and she’s already moving on, and maybe you did mention it. Maybe.

She tilts her head. “What were you?”

“Senior manager, on track to become a partner.” The words taste like ash. “Six months from the vote. Then… Well, then this morning happened.”

“Ah.” She finally sips her wine. “So you didn’t just lose a job, you lost a future.”

Something in your chest tightens. First time anyone worded it correctly.

“Yeah,” you say. “Something like that.”

She’s quiet. The bar continues to hum around you. Low conversations, clinking glasses, someone’s muted laughter from a booth in the corner. Sounds from a world that kept moving while yours stopped.

“What’s your name?” she asks.

“Akihiro. Hinode.”

“Akihiro.” She rolls it around her mouth like she’s tasting it. “I’m Tsuki.”

“Just Tsuki?”

“For now.” That almost-smile again. “Are you always this suspicious of women who talk to you in bars, Akihiro?”

“I’m not usually the type women talk to in bars.”

“No,” She looks at you; eyes you up and down. Past the rumpled suit and the stubble that’s been growing and the distinct slump of a man who’s visually given up. “I don’t suppose you are. But tonight’s not usual, is it?”

It isn’t. Nothing about tonight is usual. Nothing about this woman is usual.

She shifts on her stool and you notice things. The way her dress catches the light (it doesn’t.) The curve of her neck where it meets her shoulder. Her lips… Which you keep looking at like a goddamn teenager who’s never seen a woman before.

Get it together Akihiro. You’re a grown man, you’ve flirted before. You know how this works, right? (It’s futile, you’re still looking at her lips.)

“You should eat something,” she says.

“Not hungry.”

“You’re also not sober. Eat something anyway.”

There’s no reason to listen to her. She’s a stranger; an otherworldly stranger who appeared out of nowhere to comment on your tragedy, which is either a fantasy or a warning sign, and you’re too drunk to tell which.

You signal the bartender and order some fries anyway.

Tsuki lets out a genuine smile that contrasts the calculated smiles she’s been giving you all night. It changes her whole face. Makes her look younger and more dangerous at the same time.

“Good,” she says. “I like a man who can take directions.”

“I don’t usually… I usually…”

“I know.”

Something in her voice makes you pause. I know. As if she actually is certain. As if she’s been watching you longer than the ten minutes since she appeared.

The fries arrive. You eat them without tasting much, but she’s right. The food helps, you’re famished. The room steadies. Your thoughts start to sharpen from blur to something approaching clarity.

“So what happens now?” Tsuki asks. “The projections. The math that’s happening in your head. What’s your plan?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Everyone has a plan Akihiro. Even if it’s just ‘survive until tomorrow.’”

You consider this. The alcohol wants you to lie and to perform competence; to pretend you’ve got this handled. But something about her makes lying feel pointless, like she’d see through it anyway.

“I’ll call in favors,” you say. “I have contacts. People who know what I’m capable of, separate from—” you gesture vaguely, trying to encompass the scandal, the firm, and the entire smoking crater of your career “—all that. I’ll reach out to all of them. See who’s still willing to give me a chance.”

“And if no one answers?”

“Then I figure something else out. I always do.”

She nods slowly, swirling her wine. Her lips still haven’t touched her glass.

“The people who did this to you Akihiro,” she says. “The partners, the ones who were actually behind all of this. Where are they tonight? What are they doing?”

The question catches you off guard; you hadn’t thought about it. You’re too busy counting your own losses.

“I don’t know. Home… Probably. Consulting with their own set of lawyers, planning their defense.”

“So they’re comfortable, then.”

“I guess.”

“Sneaking out with their mistresses. Eating dinner with their families. Sleeping in their own comfy bed. Not sitting in a hotel bar at…” she glances at her watch “...eleven-thirty on a Tuesday, doing math about potential airbnb bridges.”

You don’t say anything. You can’t. But the bourbon is wearing off and the emotion replacing it is uglier.

She then considers her glass. Looks at it for a beat, then back at you.

“Does that bother you?” she asks. “That they are comfortable and you’re here?”

“I don’t…” You stop. Start again. “What they did wasn’t personal. They didn’t do this to me. They just did it, and I unfortunately got caught in the blast radius.” 

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Her eyes are fixed on yours. Dark, direct, steady, and somehow warmer than they should be; given what she’s asking.

“Yes,” you say finally. “It bothers me.”

“Good.” She finishes her wine in one swallow then sets the glass down. “It should.”

She stands, and you realize she’s leaving. The panic that shoots through you is irrational. She’s a stranger, you just met her. What the fuck is wrong with you?

“Wait,” you say. “Where are you…”

“I have a room upstairs.” She says it casually. “I was going to invite you, but you seem like the type who needs to be asked directly. So I’m asking.”

The words hang there. Huh? What is even happening right now? Your brain, which has spent twelve years analyzing risk and calculating probability, offers no useful input whatsoever.

“I’m not…” you start, but you don’t know how to finish. The kind of man who goes to hotel rooms with pretty strangers. You can’t make small talk right now. You’re not even sure what’s left in you to feel except this gray void that’s been eating you all day.

“You’re not what?” Tsuki asks patiently. Clearly amused at the broken man in front of her.

“I’m just a mess right now.”

“I noticed.” She holds out her hand. Slender fingers, nails painted red so dark it’s almost black. “Come anyway.”

You look at her hand. At her face. At her lips, curved into a shape that should look like a smile but isn’t quite there yet.

Every logical part of you is screaming that this is a bad idea. You are drunk, you are vulnerable, you don’t know this woman, and the last thing you need is to add “poor decisions with pretty strangers” to your ever growing list of recent failures.

Then you think: The logical parts of your brain are the parts that got you here. Twelve years of doing everything by the book; look where it landed you. Fuck it.

You take her hand.

✦⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡

The elevator ride is silent. 

Her hand stays in yours. Small, warm, surprisingly smooth all throughout. You notice her features in the harsh overhead light that you missed in the bar’s dimness: The exact shape of her collarbones beneath the thin silky fabric of her dress. Her breathing pattern, slow, even, and completely controlled.

Actually, it’s almost too controlled. Her pulse should be racing; heck, yours is. When your thumb brushes her wrist, there’s nothing. It beats steady and slow. Not one bit nervous.

Then you go back to her lips. You can’t stop looking at her lips. Some shade between rose and wine that you couldn’t name but won’t forget. You’re wondering if you’re ever going to get a taste of—

“You’re staring,” she says.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” The elevator dings. Doors open. “Just know that I see you doing it.”

The hallway is long, ominous, and quiet. Thick carpet swallows your footsteps. You pass a decorative alcove, traditional masks mounted on the wall. One catches your eye: a woman’s face, features twisted between anguish and rage, small horns emerging from the forehead. Beautiful and terrible.

Tsuki ignores it, doesn’t even react. But her hand tightens in yours, just slightly, as you pass.

She produces a keycard from somewhere. You didn’t see her carrying a purse. She opens a door near the end.

The room is a suite. Large and expensive; totally out of your budget right now. It’s the kind of room someone books when money isn’t a concern. Floor-to-ceiling windows look out over the city, Tokyo lights glittering in the darkness.

You’re barely through the door when she turns and her lips clash into yours. 

Her mouth is hot and demanding, her hands fisting in your jacket, pulling you closer with a strength that surprises you. She tastes like red wine, exactly how you imagined, and there’s an aftertaste underneath it; something dark and sweet and sinful. 

Fuck it.

You return the favor and kiss her back with the same intensity. Your hands find her waist, the curve of her hips through the thin fabric. She makes a sound against your mouth that’s between a moan and a laugh.

“Good boy,” she breathes. “There you are.”

She pushes you backward until your legs hit the bed. You sit with your whole weight, and she stands over you, looking down. The lighting behind her turns her into a bewitching silhouette, edges glowing, face in shadow.

“Take them off.”

You do.

Jacket first. Tie follows, then shirt when she gestures impatiently. Cool air brushes upon your bare chest, but her gaze is hot enough to compensate.

“Lie back.”

You do that too.

There is something about the way she gives orders that makes refusal feel moot, it feels inevitable.

She climbs onto the bed. Straddles you without touching, her knees bracketing your hips, her weight hovering just above yours. The hem of her dress rides up, revealing thighs that are toned and milky and smooth and close enough to touch if you just…

You reach for her.

“No.” She catches your wrists. Her grip is stronger than it should be. Not painful, but immovable. “Hands on the headboard.”

“What?”

“Put your hands on the headboard, and keep them there.”

You reach back and your fingers find cold metal bars. You grip them, and she smiles. That smile again, the one that puts you in a trance meant to obey her every word.

“Good boy.”

Then she lowers herself slowly. Just enough that you can feel the heat of her through the fabric of your slacks but not enough to give you any real friction.

You let out a sound between a groan and a whimper. Your hips try to lift, to chase the contact, but she rises with you, maintaining the exact distance she’s chosen.

“None of that.” Her voice is light, conversational, as if she isn’t torturing you. “Stay still. You take what I give you.”

“But Tsuki I…”

“Shhhh~”

She leans forward. 

Her lips slowly brush your neck, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. Barely there; teasing. When you turn your head to try and capture her in a real kiss, she pulls back just far enough to deny you.

“Tsuki…”

You hear her breathe in.

“You smell like bourbon,” she murmurs against your throat. “And desperation but underneath all that, something interesting.”

Her hips roll. Once. A slow grind that drags a groan out of you despite yourself. She’s pressed against you now, heat and pressure and the thin barrier of clothing between you.

“That’s better.” Her breath is warm against your ear. “I wondered if you were still in there. If there was anything left under all that devastation.”

“I’m—”

“You’re very pretty when you’re falling apart.” She bites your earlobe. “Did you know that?”

Her hands work at your belt. She’s efficient, unhurried, and not wasting any time. She draws down the zipper, and the relief of pressure makes you gasp. Then her fingers wrap around you through your boxers, and your brain shortcircuits.

“There we go.” She strokes slowly, firmly, the fabric adding friction that borders on too much. “There’s my broken man.”

Usually you’d be offended by that. You should feel used, manipulated, reduced to something less than yourself—a plaything. But her hand is moving and her lips are tracing patterns on your throat and all you can feel is the desperate need for more.

“Please,” you hear yourself say.

“Please what?”

“More. I need…”

“I know what you need.” She pulls back. Your cock twitches at the loss of contact. “But you haven’t earned it yet.”

Before you can respond, she shifts down your body. Her fingers hook into the waistband of your boxers and pull them down; just enough to free you. The air is cool and you’re achingly throbbing hard.

“Not bad,” she says. Like your dignity isn’t spilling across the hotel sheets. “A little distracted, maybe. A little too in your head.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.” She traces one finger along your length. Base to the underside then to your tip, feather-light. “You’re thinking about tomorrow, about the phone calls you need to make, the bridges you need to rebuild, the hundred small humiliations waiting for you when you walk out of this room; about everything except what’s right in front of you.”

She’s right. Even now, even with her hand on your aching cock, some part of your brain is still doing the math, calculating the odds, preparing for the worst.

“Let me help you with that,” she says.

She lowers her head. Takes her time. You watch her descend. Her dark hair falling forward, her breath warm against your stomach, your hip bone, the crease of your thigh. Deliberately avoiding your cock, which twitches and strains toward her.

“Look at you,” she murmurs against your skin. “So eager. So hungry.”

Her tongue traces a line from your hip to your inner thigh. You shudder.

“When’s the last time someone touched you like this? Really took their time with you and not just going through the motions.”

You can’t answer, can’t even remember. Your last relationship ended two years ago, the reason: Mutual exhaustion, on brand, both of you too busy building careers to build anything else. Since then, nothing. 

You hadn’t realized how starved you are for touch until now.

“That long?” She sounds amused. Her lips brush the base of your cock, and you make a sound that you don’t even want to name. “Poor thing.”

Her lips close around you. Just the tip, just enough to make you jerk against the headboard. Her mouth is hot, impossibly hot, and wet, and impossibly soft, her tongue swirling over your cockhead in patterns that should be illegal in several prefectures.

You’ve had blowjobs before, but whatever she’s doing with her tongue; your entire education has not prepared you for this.

For one perfect second, there’s nothing in your head except the sensation of her.

Then she pulls off then sits back. She wipes the corner of her mouth with one elegant finger.

“No,” you say. It comes out pathetic and broken. “Please don’t stop…”

“You taste like need.” She tilts her head. “Like someone who’s been empty for a very long time and didn’t even notice until just now.”

“Tsuki—”

“Shhhh.” She rises onto her knees. Her hands go to the thin straps of her dress, and she slides them down her shoulders excruciatingly slow. Revealing inch after inch of her perfect porcelain skin.

The dress falls to her waist. You want to touch her more than you’ve wanted anything in recent memory. Your hands twitch against the headboard.

“Stay,” she says. Like you’re a dog. Like you’d do anything she asked as long as she kept looking at you like that.

(You would. You’d bark too if she asked for it. That’s the terrifying part.)

She reaches back. The dress slithers down her hips, and she’s naked above you. Toned limbs and soft curves and that face, watching you with dark eyes reflecting nothing and seeing everything.

Her tits are fuller than you expected. Ample, perfectly shaped, nipples erect making your mouth water. You want to taste them. You want to taste every inch of her.

“You look like you yearn for my touch,” she says. 

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

She laughs, low and pleased. “You’re getting greedy. I like that.”

She takes your hand releasing it from the headboard, and brings it to her chests. Your fingers curve around the soft weight of her tits. She shivers. Just slightly; a crack in her composure.

“Like this,” she says. “Gently, like you’re learning every part of me.”

You are; making an inventory of every stimulus: The texture of her skin. The give of her mounds in your palm. The way her nipples harden against your touch. She guides your thumb across it, and her breath catches. You hear a small sound forced out of her.

“Good,” she croons. “That’s good.”

She lets you explore her with both hands now: The dip of her waist. The flare of her hips. The surprising softness of her inner thighs. You take your time, learning every curve, every part of her where your touch makes her breath trickle in intervals.

You lean up to press your lips to her collarbone, slowly tasting her; expensive rose margarita, floral notes with hints of salt. You can’t get enough of it so you continue tasting her. She doesn’t stop you this time. Her fingers thread through your hair, holding you there, letting you trace your mouth down to her decadent breasts.

You take her nipple in your mouth.

The sound she makes; low, involuntary, almost a moan. It sends electricity through you. She tastes clean, faintly sweet, definitely addicting. You roll the other nipple between your fingers, and her hips jerk against you.

“Careful,” she breathes. But she doesn’t pull away. Her hand tightens in your hair.

You worship her. There’s absolutely no other word for it. You learn the weight of her plush tits, the exact shade of those nipples, the way she gasps when you graze them with your teeth. You memorize the curve of her ribs, the softness of her stomach, the trail of heat your mouth leaves down her body.

When you reach the crease of her thigh, she stops you.

“Not yet.” Her voice rougher now. Less controlled. “Lie back Akihiro.”

You do.

She shifts down your body, and you feel her everywhere. The brush of her hair against your chest, her tits dragging across your stomach, her breath warm against your hip.

She takes you in her hand.

“Let me give this a taste,” she says as her eyes linger at your aching cock. “I want to know what you feel and taste like on my tongue.”

Before you can respond, she lowers her head. “Mhmm~”

Her mouth closes around you slowly. Going beyond the tip this time. She takes you deeper, inch by inch, her tongue tracing the underside of your shaft as she descends. Wet heat and gentle suction and the sight of her. Those lips stretched around you, her dark eyes looking up through her lashes, watching your face break apart as she swallows the whole of you down.

“God.” The word forced out of you.

She pulls back just as slowly. Her tongue swirls over your head, dipping into the slit and you can feel yourself leaking endlessly onto her tongue. She hums and the vibration nearly sends you over the edge.

“Now, you taste like want,” she murmurs against your throbbing cock. “Like someone who’s forgotten what it feels like to be touched.”

She takes you again, much deeper. You feel the back of her throat, feel her swallow around you, and your hands fist in the sheets because you’re not allowed to touch her head. You know that without being told.

She sets a rhythm designed to devour you. Slow, deliberate strokes that build pressure without release. Every time you get close to the climax, every time you feel yourself teetering on the edge, she pulls back. Lets the sensation fade. Then starts again.

“Tsuki, please—”

“Please what?”

“I need—”

“I know what you need.” She releases you with a wet pop. Your cock bobs against your stomach, wet and covered with her saliva, aching. “But you haven’t earned it yet.”

She crawls up your body. Positions herself so she’s straddling you, her heat hovering just above your desperate erection. You can feel her. How wet she is, the slick of her cunt, evidence of her own arousal painting the head of your cock as she slowly shifts.

“Do you want it inside?” she asks.

“Yes.” The word comes out broken. “Please. God. Yes.”

She reaches down. Takes your length in her hand. Guides you until you’re pressed against her entrance. Wet, incredibly hot, the promise of her right there.

She doesn’t let you in.

Instead, she rocks. A slow, torturous grind that slides your cock through her folds, coating you in her arousal, the head catching against her clit on every pass. She shudders when it does. Small tremors that tell you she’s not as unaffected as she pretends.

“Feel that?” she whispers. “Feel how wet you make me?”

You can.

The slick glide of her against you. The heat that radiates from her. The way her lips part around your shaft without quite taking you in. Just barely. Everything you want, just out of reach.

“Let me,” you beg. Your hands find her hips, trying to pull her down. “Tsuki, please, let me—”

“No.”

She grinds harder. Your cock continues to slide through her silky folds, grazing against her clit, and she gasps. Unguarded. Her eyes flutter closed for just a second.

“Not tonight,” she manages. “Tonight you learn to want.”

“I already want—”

“Not like this.” She increases her pace. The friction is maddening. It’s driving you insane how slick and hot and so close you are to what you need. “Tonight you learn what it feels like to burn for something you can’t have.”

You’re going to come. You can feel your climax building. That inevitable pressure. Just from this. Just from the slide of her against you, the heat of her, the promise of a depth you’re not yet allowed to reach.

“Tsuki—I’m going to—”

She slows. Doesn’t lift away. Hovers. Her hand finds your jaw, turns your face toward hers.

“Tell me one thing first.”

Your brain is static. “What?”

“About yourself. Not what you did at Ishikawa. Not the career. Something true.”

You can’t think. You’ll say anything to get her to keep moving. The words come out before you decide to say them.

“I’ve been waiting for something like this. An excuse to start over. I just didn’t want it to cost me my career.”

Her almost-smile. Genuine, this time. Cracked through with something you can’t read.

“Good boy.”

She stops. Lifts herself away.

The loss of contact is physically painful. Your cock throbs against the cold air, slick and desperate. You make a sound that might be a sob, or at least close to one.

This is it. This is how you die. Not from career destruction or public humiliation, but from a gorgeous stranger edging you in a hotel room. The obituary page is going to be amazing.

“Shhhh.” She strokes your chest. Almost tender. “Breathe.”

“I can’t—”

“Yes you can. Breathe with me.”

You breathe. Ragged, broken, but you do it anyway. The urgency recedes. Barely. Just enough to keep you from spilling onto your own stomach.

“Good boy.” She rewards you by shifting back down, taking you in her mouth again. One slow stroke, base to tip, her tongue tracing the vein on the underside of your cock. Then she releases you.

“Want a taste?”

The words don’t register at first. Your brain is static. Especially after that last assault.

“What?”

“I want your mouth on me.” She moves up your body, positions herself over your face. “I want to feel your tongue inside me while you’re aching for what you can’t have.”

You look up at her. Her thighs frame your vision (you save this mental image into the deepest folds of your brain in high quality).

She’s glistening in the low city light, every wet inch of her catching the windowpane glow. Swollen and pink. Her scent hits you. Musky and sweet and intoxicating.

“Open your mouth,” she says.

You do. She lowers herself onto you.

The first taste of her is overwhelming. She’s hot against your tongue, slick and swollen, and when you trace the length of her slit, she shudders above you.

“That’s it,” she breathes. “Just like that.”

You eat her like she’s the first meal you’ve had in years. You learn the topography of her. Her soft luxurious folds, the hard pearl of her clit, the entrance that clenches when you press your tongue inside. She tastes like desire made physical. She feels like a sin you’re willing to commit.

Her hips rock against your face. Chasing your tongue, grinding down when you find the right spot. The sounds she makes are arriving faster now. 

“Your mouth,” she gasps. “God, your mouth.”

You focus on her clit. Gentle pressure, then more, reading her responses. When you suck, she cries out. You then flick your tongue in quick patterns, her thighs start to tremble.

You’re painfully hard beneath her: neglected, desperate, and somehow that makes this better. Your own need gets amplified with every sensation, every taste, every sound she lets out.

She’s close. Her movement doesn’t hide it well, the way her legs tighten around your head, her moans rising an octave higher, leaving her breathless.

Then she pulls away.

“No.” She’s panting now. Flushed. Her composure cracked but not broken. “No. That’s enough.”

“Let me finish—”

“No.” She climbs off you. Stands beside the bed. Trembling slightly, her voice is still steady. “That’s what tonight is about.”

You lie there, aching. Covered in the taste and scent of her. Your cock leaking with need.

“What is tonight about then?” Your voice sounds wrecked. You don’t care.

She looks at you. Something flickers in her eyes, almost like regret.

“Tonight is about you learning what you want,” she says. “And remembering that you’re still capable of wanting it.”

She reaches for her dress.

“What are you…” 

“That’s enough for tonight.” She pulls it on, covering all that perfect skin. “You did well Akihiro.”

“I didn’t-we didn’t-”

“No.” She looks at you over her shoulder. “We didn’t. That’s the point.”

You’re still hard, still aching, and still covered in her.

“Why?” you ask.

She walks back to the bed. Sits on the edge. Reaches out and traces a finger along your jaw. Gentle and almost affectionate.

“Because you came here to feel nothing,” she says. “And I wanted to show you that you can’t. That underneath all that careful numbness, there’s still something alive.”

“That’s…”

“Cruel? Maybe.” She leans in. Presses a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. Pulls back before you can deepen it. “But I think you needed cruelty tonight Akihiro. I think you needed someone to remind you that you’re not dead yet.”

You don’t have an answer. You just lie there while your eyes are glued to her; continue to taste her in your mouth.

She stands. And like a magic trick she produces a business card from somewhere and sets it on the nightstand.

“There’s a shower through here. Hot water. Good pressure. Help yourself. Feel free to make yourself at home.”

“Tsuki…”

“You’ll see me again.” She pauses at the door. That almost-smile playing on her lips. “The people who did this to you, Akihiro. They’re sleeping comfortably tonight. Doesn’t that bother you? Fight.”

Then she’s gone.

✦⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡

You stand in the shower for what feels like eternity. You let the water flow. The shower water is scalding, but you stay under it anyway. It reddens your skin. You let it sear away whatever the hell just happened. Because the moment you took her hand, you knew you were cooked.

You came here to feel nothing. She’d said that like she knew. Like she’d seen right through you from the moment she appeared.

She’s right.

You’d wanted oblivion. Bourbon and bad decisions and the emptiness that comes from surrendering control. Instead, she’d given you something worse: she’d made you feel. She made you reach for desire, and frustration, and something raw, and desperate that you’d been burying since Tanaka-san wouldn’t meet your eyes.

She’d forced you open, looked at what was inside, and walked away.

Your body still aches; arousal denied, muscles tensed for a release that never came. You can still taste her. That salty-sweet musk you’d swallowed like a man dying of thirst. You can still feel the spectral weight of her on your face, her thighs nestled against your cheeks.

You wrap your hand around yourself. The water beats down on your back. You stroke once, twice…

And stop.

It feels wrong, unfinished business that shouldn’t be finished alone. She’d denied you for a reason. You don’t understand the reason yet, but completing the act yourself feels like cheating. Like letting her down.

What the fuck is wrong with you?!

You turn off the water. Wrap a towel around your waist. Walk back into the room that still smells faintly of her. Wine and a looming presence of something darker.

The people who did this to you. They’re sleeping comfortably tonight.

The business card is still on the nightstand. Just a phone number. No name.

You pick it up. Turn it over. Nothing on the back.

Your phone is still off; you could turn it on. Finally face the music: all the unread messages, the missed calls, the reality waiting to tear you apart.

Instead, you lie down on the bed that still holds the ghost of her body. Close your eyes. Try to remember the exact taste of her lips. Replay all the stored images in your head.

You don’t sleep. But when the sun finally rises, pale and gray through the windows, you’re still thinking about her question.

Doesn’t that bother you?

Yes.

It fucking does.

✦⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡

Three days later

There’s a networking event at a hotel downtown. It’s a different hotel but the same species of desperation. Fifty people in business casual, circulating with drinks and business cards, pretending they’re not all acutely aware of who’s up and who’s down.

You’re down, you’re obviously at the gutter, and everyone by now knows it.

You can see it in how conversations pause when you approach, the slight stiffening of shoulders, the bright smiles that don’t reach anyone’s eyes. People you’ve known for years. All of them have discovered fascinating things to look at on the opposite side of the room.

Plague carrier. That’s what you are now. They brought back social distancing and you are patient zero.

Three days since Tsuki left you aching in that room. Three days of phone calls that go to voicemail, emails that don’t get responses, and the slow realization that your network; twelve years of carefully cultivated ‘relationships’, has been quarantined along with your career.

You’re on your second club soda. Trying to stay sharp, proving something to yourself. 

Then she appears.

She doesn’t approach. She just shows up, like she stepped out of the gap between one second and the next. One second the space beside you is empty. The next, she’s there.

“You look better than last time,” she says.

She looks different. Hair down loose curls. Off-shoulder black gown. She looks like she belongs, which means she definitely does not.

“How did you know I’d be here?”

“Mmhm. Lucky guess.” She plucks a canapé from a passing tray, looks at it, sets it back. “You’ve been busy. I saw you talking to that woman in white. And that startup founder, the one who still thinks ‘runway’ is something you build at an airport and ‘profit’ is a myth investors tell children at bedtime.”

You didn’t see her watching. You’re sure of that. You were scanning the room the whole time.

“Are you following me?”

“I’m helping you, Akihiro.” She nods toward a cluster of suits near the bar. “Blue tie. Kwon, Minjun. South Korean conglomerate money. He needs someone to handle a family restructuring, discreetly. The big firms won’t touch it. Lots of excuses: too complex and too messy and too many secrets.”

“And you know this how?”

“I’m Tsuki~ Also, people love talking and I am good at listening. People with a lot of secrets tend to be more chatty.” She’s already moving. “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

The conversation with Kwon takes around fifteen minutes. She does most of the work; positioning you as exactly what he needs, someone outside the system, someone who understands discretion. By the end, he’s asking for your card and suggesting lunch next week.

When you turn to thank her, she’s gone. You look for her.

You find her in a service corridor off the main hall. She’s leaning against a wall, arms crossed, watching you approach like she knew exactly how long it would take.

“He’s very much interested in you,” she says. “You’ll have the account by Friday.”

“You set that up. The whole thing.”

“I initiated the conversation. You performed, and you performed extremely well.” She tilts her head. “You’re welcome.”

“Why do you do these things for me? What do you want from me?”

“Right now? She glances down the corridor: not a single soul, empty, no cameras in sight. She bites her lower lip. “I want your mouth.”

“That’s a lot to ask for just an introduction.”

“Is it?” She steps closer. “Fifteen minutes with the Kwon Minjun. A man who doesn’t take meetings with anyone below C-suite. I got you that with a smile and my pretty face.” Her fingers find your tie, straightens it. “My price seems pretty…reasonable.”

“And if I want to negotiate?”

“You’re not in the position to negotiate, Aki-kun. I have the upperhand here.” She says it like she’s explaining basic arithmetics. “You need clients and I just handed you one. The question isn’t whether you’ll pay. It’s whether you’ll do it well enough that I keep helping you.”

“And if I do it well?”

“Then maybe I’ll tell you something more about myself.” Her almost-smile. “After.”

“Before.”

“After, Akihiro-kun. Or never.”

You consider the corridor. The networking event you’re supposed to be attending. Her eyes that just lures you in the abyss of bad decisions.

While she watches you decide, she slowly lifts her arm; points toward the floor between her heels.

“On your knees, Akihiro-kun.” Her smile sharpens. “Let’s see how thorough you can be.”

The tile is cold and dirty and hard. You don’t care. She's gathering the tulle in one fist and hiking the gown up slowly, watching your face, enjoying the way your eyes track every inch of exposed thigh.

“You’ve been thinking about this,” she says. “How I taste. These past three days, lying in your bed, remembering how wet I was on your tongue.”

“Yes.”

“Good.” She hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her underwear. Black lace, barely there. She slides them down her thighs, steps out of them, tucks them into your jacket pocket. “Something to remember me by.”

Tulle bunched at her hips. She's bare underneath. Pink and glistening and close enough that you can smell her arousal. Your mouth waters.

“Look at you,” she murmurs. “So eager. So thirsty.” She traces a finger along your jaw. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to taste you.”

“Be more specific. Let it all out Aki-kun.”

“I want to lick your pussy until you cum on my face.”

The words come out before your brain can veto them. God, what’s wrong with you?!

Tsuki shivers just slightly. A crack in that perfect composure she’s trying so hard to maintain.

Okay. Dirty talk does work. Good to know.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

You lean in. Press your eager lips to her inner thigh. She inhales sharply.

“Tease,” she breathes.

“I learned from the best.”

You take your time. Kissing up one thigh, then the other. Letting your breath ghost over where she wants you, never quite touching. She makes a frustrated sound, and her fingers find your hair.

“Akihiro…”

“You made me wait three days.” You’re so close now. You can see how wet she is, pink, glistening, slick and swollen, practically dripping. “You can wait three minutes.”

“I don’t…” She gasps as your tongue finally touches her. Just once. A slow, flat stroke from her entrance to her clit. “Fuck.”

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t like waiting.”

“You do now.”

You lick her again: Slower. Savoring. She tastes just like you remembered. Her hips buck toward your mouth, but you pull back enough to deny her the pressure she wants.

“You’re getting brave,” she manages.

“I’m getting even.”

You seal your lips around her clit and suck. She cries out. Loud. Extremely loud for a service corridor. It echoes over the length of it. Then her hand slaps over her mouth.

“Quiet,” you murmur against her. “Someone might hear.”

“You bastard.”

You slide two fingers inside her. She’s soaked, clenching around you immediately, her whole body jerking at the intrusion.

“God, you’re so wet.” You curl your fingers, searching. “You’ve been thinking about this too. Haven’t you?”

She doesn’t answer. Her thighs are shaking.

“Haven’t you?”

“Yes.” It comes out broken. “Yes, I-there, right there, don’t stop-”

You don’t stop. You finger fuck her and lick her clit in tight circles, the same rhythm, relentless. She’s grinding against your face now, chasing it, all the composure slowly but surely crumbling.

“You’re going to cum,” you tell her. “Right here in this hallway. Anyone could walk in. Anyone could see you like this. Gown around your hips, fucking yourself on my tongue.”

“Akihiro…”

“Now. Cum for me.”

She breaks.

Her whole body seizes, cunt clamping down on your fingers, thighs squeezing your head, the sound she makes is muffled by her hand but you can still hear it; raw, desperate, nothing like the controlled woman who manifested into that bar four days ago.

You work her through it. Slower now, gentler, drawing out every aftershock. She shudders repeatedly and you don’t pull away until she pushes at your shoulders.

“Enough.” She’s panting. Flushed. Her legs are visibly unsteady. “Enough.”

You sit back on your heels. Wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. Your fingers are still drenched with her.

“Was that thorough enough?” you ask.

She stares at you. For a long moment, she doesn’t say anything. Just breathes. Then that smile returns, slower this time.

“You’re learning.”

She pushes off the wall. Smooths the gown back into place. Her legs are still trembling slightly, and the knowledge that you did that, that you made her shake, sends a hot pulse of satisfaction through you.

You’re achingly hard. She can see the visual outline of you straining against your slacks.

“What about…”

“No.” She’s composing herself. Running her fingers through her hair. “Not yet.”

“Tsuki.”

“You made me cum.” She steps closer. Looks down at the bulge in your pants. Presses her palm against it, just once, firm and fleeting. You make a strangled sound. “That’s more than most people get. Be grateful.”

“I want—”

“I know what you want.” She leans in. Her lips brush your ear. “You want to bend me over and fuck me until I scream. You want to fill me up and watch it drip out of me. You want to make me as desperate as you’ve been for the past four days.”

“Yes.”

“Mhmm.” She pulls back. Straightens your jacket. Her underwear is still in your pocket, damp against your chest. “Not yet.”

“When?”

“When I decide.” That smile again; dangerous and promising. “Now go back to the party. Smile at Kwon. Think about how good I tasted while you shake hands and make small talk.”

She’s walking away before you can respond.

You stand. Adjust your jacket. Fix yourself until you’re presentable before walking back to the party. Take a couple of seconds to breathe.

Her underwear is still in your pocket. You should do something about that. Put it somewhere. Throw it away. Anything other than keeping it like some kind of pervert trophy.

You don’t do anything about it, just transfer it inside the pocket lining of your jacket.

You enter the venue. Kwon catches your eye across the room. Raises his glass. You nod back and approach him.

Your phone buzzes.

Hinode-san. I’ve reached out a couple of times now. I understand you’ve signed an NDA. I’m not asking about Ishikawa this time. I’m inquiring about something else. Call when you’re ready.

You stare at the message. Something else. You don’t know what that means. The journalist’s byline was on the Polaris coverage last year (she totally fucked them up). The Bloomberg interview with the Blockberry whistleblower. Her pieces have a way of turning into criminal indictments.

You don’t answer.

Your phone buzzes again. Different number. Unknown with a weird handle.

般若: The Kwon family charity gala is Saturday. The daughter manages their venture fund. She’ll be looking for someone like you.

般若: Wear your navy suit. It fits you better than that gloomy excuse you have on.

You look around the room. She’s nowhere. Another buzz.

般若: You looked like you’re starting to believe in yourself

般若: I like that.

般若: Sleep well tonight, Akihiro-kun. You’ll need the energy.

You stare at the screen. The navy suit. She’s never seen your closet. She’s never been to your apartment.

You should be frightened. You should be calling the police, or a psychiatrist, or anyone who can explain how a woman you met a few days ago knows what suits you own.

Instead, you’re thinking about the sound she made when she came. The way her control cracked. The three seconds where she was just a woman shaking against your mouth.

You place your phone in your pocket.

You don’t sleep well that night. But when you close your eyes, you’re not thinking about the Kwon family, or your ruined career.

You’re thinking about her. You think about what she said.

The people who did this to you. They’re comfortable. Fight.

✦⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡

A/N: So, you finally finished the first act. Good boy. How did you like it? How did you like me? You and I have more time together in the upcoming chapters; Bunn just needs a little convincing to write it faster. Leave a comment so he knows you want what's next. A like, a follow, a reprose. All of it fuels him like how Akihiro—(clears throat.) Like how it also fuels me. Reviews and suggestions welcome. I'd be very disappointed if you held them back from me. I'll see you in the next chapter reader-san~ -般若

[bunnsfw]

ᘏᘏ thirsty bunn thursdays male reader x choerry (artms/loona) ※ more of my works on fanprose

“Daddy—daddy—daddy~”

She’s on her back, knees apart, ankles around your waist, eyes already wet. The bedside lamp catches the small gold cherry pendant you gifted her this morning. She’s wearing nothing else.

“Yes, baby?” You’re inside her, and your cock coated in her needy slick, and you’re not moving.

“Please move, daddy.” Her hips lift. “It’s my birthday, please don’t tease me too much.”

“I know it is, baby.”

“Then move~” She pulls you closer with her ankles. “Please, daddy, please. I’ve been a good girl all year.”

“Have you? Have you really, Choi Yerim? Or do you want me to remind you what you did over at Heejin’s house when we visited last month?”

“Eeeeeh. It was just a quickie. I’m sure Heejin didn’t mind. I’ve been good enough, daddy.”

“Good enough?” You start to move, slow. You sink in deep, and her mouth opens in that round shape you chase. “Good enough for what? Heejin heard all your moaning and screaming back then, I’m sure of it.”

“I’m sure she enjoyed it as well, daddy. Come on~ It’s my birthday. I’ve been good enough for you to cum inside me multiple times today and breed me, daddy~”

“Ok. Is that your wish?”

“Well… That was wish number one.”

“Then let’s get it done. Seems you have multiple wishes for your birthday.”

You continue your assault on her tight cunt. The pendant slides across her sternum. You feel her clench around you on the second stroke.

“Don’t stop—please, please, don’t stop.”

You don’t stop. Actually, you go faster. You set a rhythm, and the sensation awakened something in her. When she’s really deep into pleasure, she starts talking during sex the way other people pray.

“Oh god. Oh god, oppa. You’re going so deep. I’m nearly cumming, oppa. Oppa—I’m… Daddy… I’m—”

“Already?”

“It’s my birthday.”

“I know, baby, and I’m going to make you cum over—” One stroke. “—and over—” Another. “—and over until you can’t handle it anymore.”

Her eyes roll back. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck! Daddy! Choerry’s cumming. Choerry’s co— oh god, fill me up, fill me up daddy, please daddy, please—”

She moaned hard, screamed actually; she cums hard around you. Her thighs clamping and her back arching and her hands grabbing at the sheets. You’re not done, but she’s already begging through the orgasm: inside me, please daddy, inside me, it’s my special day, give it all to me daddy, breed me, and you decide tonight’s rules are her rules. You bury yourself to the hilt and come inside her on your first climax.

She makes a sound when she feels your seed spilling inside her that you’re going to remember for the rest of your life.

“Mhmmm. Oh my god, oppa.” Her hands come up to her own stomach. “I felt all of that. Gosh, I want more of it; that was so addicting, oppa. This might be my best birthday ever.”

“We haven’t even really started, baby.”

“That’s what I like to hear, daddy~” Her face changes. She’s grinning now. Her makeup is already running. “Oppa, please don’t pull out yet. Let it stay there for now.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Good because I want you to breed me again after this.”

“Yerim…”

“What?” She’s looking up at you with the wettest eyes you’ve seen. “It’s my birthday wish, remember?”

“Alright.”

“For my birthday.” She lifts her own knees to her chest, slow. The bottom of her stomach is already glistening. “Knees-to-chest. Make me feel it everywhere daddy. Yerimmie wants to see her belly move with you inside her.”

That does it. You feel yourself harden inside her again before she finishes that thought.

You stay buried. You push her knees the rest of the way, her ankles by her ears, her body folded under you. The angle is criminal. The first stroke from this position makes her eyes go completely white.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuuuck.” Her moans sound like chants.

You start moving, and you can feel yourself in a different part of her now, deeper than you can be in any other position. She looks down at her own stomach and her face changes once more.

“Oppa, Oppa, look. Look at me.”

You look. Her stomach is moving with every stroke. Actually moving, the shape of you visible through her abdomen, sliding up and down with the rhythm. Her hand presses there. Her own palm bulges out as you push in.

“Oh god, daddy. You’re so huge inside me. You’re actually ripping me apart. I love it.” She’s crying now. Tears of joy streaming out of her. “Breed me, daddy. Spill your seed inside me some more. Daddy. Daddy. Daddy~ Birthday girl needs to get bred.”

You fuck her harder. She’s not making coherent words anymore. The bulge in her stomach moves with you, and her hand stays there feeling it, and her other hand has found your forearm, and she’s holding on like you might disappear.

“Oppa, I’m there again, daddy, daddy, fill me up, fill me up, pleaseee, fill your wife up, give it to me, give it to me, please please please please—”

“Where do you want it again, baby?”

“Inside. Inside, please, only inside—”

“Where again, Yerim?”

“In my fucking womb, daddy. In my fucking womb. Give it to your wife. Breed me. Knock me up, daddy. It’s my birthday. Fill me up and breed this birthday girl. Please please please—”

You cum inside her so hard your vision blurs. She cums around you at the same time, her hands clamping on her own stomach, feeling you pulse, and the sound she makes is half-scream, half-prayer, and full-ecstasy, and you’re completely sure for the second time tonight that you will never love anyone else.

“Oppa.”

“Yes, baby?”

“That was so fucking good.” Tears running into her hair. “This is the best birthday ever, oppa. You’re so good to me.”

“I’m glad.”

You start to pull out, and she clamps her thighs around you.

“Nope. Don’t. Not yet. Stay inside, daddy. I want to feel both loads sitting in there.”

“Choerry. Baby.”

“Just for a minute. Please. Then I want to ride you next.” She smiles. “This is another wish of mine for my birthday.”

You roll. She comes with you, never letting you slip out, knees finding the mattress on either side of your hips, hands flat on your chest. Her hair falls forward. Her stomach still has the slight curve of two loads inside her.

She rocks forward. Slow at first.

“Look at me, my hubby.”

You look. The lamp catches her sweat and the pendant that swings against her chest.

“Are you watching?”

“I’m watching, my wife.”

“I want you to see this. I want you to see your wife taking care of her husband. Her only one true lifetime wish.” She rolls her hips, and her eyes flutter, and she grins through it.

She starts to ride. Her thighs flex. Her tits bounce. The bulge in her stomach lifts and falls with every drop. You put your hands on her hips, and she puts her hands over yours.

“No need, daddy,” she breathes. “Use me freely tonight, hubby. I do all the work tonight. You just stay there and fill me up when I ask.”

“Yerimmie.”

“Choerry’s working. Choerry’s working hard for her present, daddy.”

She rides you in increasing tempo, “You’re so fucking deep, daddy. So, deep. Fuck. I love your cock, daddy. I love it. I love feeling it inside me. I love feeling all your cum still inside me. This is the best birthday ever. I want round four. No. Round five. No. I want more, daddy. I want to pass out with your dick still inside me.”

And you start feeling yourself nearing again, for the third time, and she sees it on your face, and her grin widens.

“Mhmm. Third one.”

“Choerry—”

“Third one’s coming, hubby.” She drops harder. “Give it to me. Right where the other two are. I want them all mixing inside me. I want to leak when I walk to the bathroom tomorrow morning. I want you to look at me when I do and remember it was you who put it there.”

You cum for the third time, and she sits down on you and stays there, hips grinding small, milking you further than you can muster. Her hand goes to her stomach again. Her eyes find yours.

“Best birthday ever.” She leans down, the pendant brushing your chest; then her body goes heavy on you, slow, peaceful. She passes out with a huge smile on her face. You kiss her temple before you follow her.

“I love you, Choi Yerim.”

comment an idol you'd want featured on thirsty bunn thursdays and I'll feature them in the next installment. thirsty bunn thursdays are now also on fanprose.

[starconstruction]

A Slay & A Rei

Rei x Male Reader (smut, 1.6k words)

I'm not going to warn you. The first line should be enough to know what you are getting into.

Rei's pussy is a spire the way you slay it, your cock is a spire the way she

slays it. You could call it Slay The Spire 2…

But let's back up, there was a bit more before that.

The night started simply, Liz told you to BEGONE! So you went over to your best friend's house. You knocked on her door, she was half naked with her headphones on. Both excited and unexcited to see you, she dragged you in before you could think of an Escape Plan.

She pushes you to her bedroom, Lifting you up the stairs. You'd never guess what's on her computer monitor, hey at least she's on Aeonglass. She must be a Master of Strategy, where were you?

Oh yeah, the 'fucking' thing.

There wasn't any Prep Time. "You interrupted my gaming, so you will be my game." She groans, pushing you onto her comfy bed– adorned with all the Slay The Spire makeship plushies money could buy, "Understood?"

"Yes, Rei."

"It's the Reigent to you."

You are so not calling her that, she's quick to Expose her lower half in one go. Pattering over as she climbed over your face. More accurately you are Crushed Under the weight of Rei's pussy on your mouth, but that's more a blessing than a curse. You greet her instantly, letting her ride your tongue. There's No Escape from the pace she sets, fast and hard as all of her taste hits you.

"Know Thy Place!" She moans, rolling her hips, holding on to the headboard and using you for her pleasure. You aren't above showing Greed, drinking up all of her, feasting on her cunt more than just what was allowed. Perhaps that is what this is, an endless Folly.

But if this is your Folly, may you toil eternally.

You moan, she moans, the soundtrack of her game is the backdrop for all of these sounds. "Fuck! Mm, that's a good interruption, pretty glad you are here, fuck." Rei Monologues, while you Prolong your actions. Oxygen is irrelevant right now.

Though evidently, sexual action with Rei is just like the game, being turn based. Now its your turn, an Energy Surge empowers you to push her off your face. She falls into her mattress and you are Unrelenting, grabbing her thick thighs and pulling close.

She trembles as your tongue is back up against her, this time though its fully in your control. Through sheer True Grit you devour her, it's erotic, filthy and disrespectful. Her wetness gets smeared all over your lips, the corners of your mouth. If you are her game and the win-condition is an orgasm.

You will Make It So.

"Mmh!" You have to keep Rei on the bed, her legs actively trying to Defy and reach Act Three. She's the best elite combat you've ever had, she's in a Haze while you keep up your combo. Rei's whining and the games truly back, two of your fingers join in. Thrusting in and out, doing some Hand Tricks. Hitting all the right spots, sucking her clit.

It's all a Well-Laid Plan, your eyes look up at her, her mouth's agape, she's so close.

"I'm, gonna, gonna cum!" That's a Victory? The orgasm has her Glowing, gushing all over your fingers and her sheets. You Wish to be in this moment forever, but the show isn't over yet. Rei recovers in a Blur, suddenly she's back up and your pants are down.

"Let me see what you are working with." She treats your cock like the Ironclad's sword, holding it firmly. Spitting on tip and rubbing it in recklessly. "Let me Stoke it a little, get you ready for what's to come."

She does just that, making out with you as her hand pumps you, both of you Huddled Together. Rei's hand is warm, really warm. It feels like the Brightest Flame. Fuck.

Rei's shamelessly sticking her tongue as deep into your mouth as you did her hole. Her spit mixes with yours (there's a lot of it.) Sloppily making out while she gets to terms with your cock. She's The Smith the way she's made you harder than a steel beam.

Her lips pull off yours and you are Dazed. "There's so much I could do, suck your cock until you shoot it down my throat. Or I could slide it in, ride it until you pass out. Maybe I could push my thighs around it, lift up and down until you helplessly spurt all over them. Decisions, Decisions."

Rei has her mind made up, truly in Demon Form as she pushes you down. "So big, so hard." You breathe heavily as your tip is brushing against her, a Tremble while Rei rubs against you, it's bliss, hell, how quickly she's got you Enthralled.

"This cock is going deep inside me, I need it so badly." With that, Rei Follows Through, slipping down and engulfing every inch of you. She's intoxicating, like taking every Elite even though you know it's a bad idea. You just lay there and take it, she bounces and you watch your cock come out wetter than it was before.

She's quick, a Bombardment of bounces, skin slapping against each other. Rei is a very adamant woman, nothing is going to stop her from riding you like the world's going to explode. Not even an Heirloom Hammer to the face.

"You are going to see stars, generate stars, whatever, fuck." Well logic was out of the window awhile ago, you are just happen to get Bury'd deep inside of Rei. She's so horny that she can't maintain rhythm, just chasing her Ascension 10. you both knew from the moment you began you were on Borrowed Time.

And now here you are, back at the beginning. Rei's the spire and you are the spire, she's delivering her attempt to finish the game by making you finish. Her turn's not over yet, being inside her raw has truly Captured your Spirit.

Sweat shines on her deliciously smooth skin, if her hands weren't forcing you into the bed you'd lick it all clean. Ravage her body like the eager slut you are. But you are always Thinking Ahead, and when she starts to slow you say nothing. Just pick her up and throw her back onto the bed. Your sex is the true roguelike experience, pick a different build (face riding, cock riding) and still go onto the same route.

How poetic.

You pounce onto her, sliding into her cunt at the same time you are on top of her. Your dick must be enchanted with Momentum the way her moans get louder with every time you push deep, targeting the right spots. "Fuck ne harder, fuck!"

You lick all the salty sweat off her skin, it turns you on so much that you throb helplessly inside of her. But this is not where the run ends, you are far too Feral. "Oh, oh my god, okay! Fuck me, fuck me harder!" You were surprised you were even able to, Overlocking your thrusts and Doubling your Energy. Everything to make Rei feel euphoric, even if you have to Scavenge the power to keep going.

"I, your cock is so good! I can't hol-" Rei gives up, cumming her brains out as you plow her through it. impressive how you don't follow, she Claw's at your back while you pound her like a Osty. You are fucking her full, the only thing left to do is…

Your orgasm Rattles you, dumping your thick load deep inside, filing her to the brim– you are truly the Conqueror to her spire, hitting the Knockup Blow instead of the Knockout Blow. The legend, another Victory? Her walls milk more of your cum out. she's bred, happy.

But, there's four acts.

Something happens, a spark, you've been fucking on video game logic and this is no different. A few minutes and you are inside Rei's tight asshole, lube was the three keys. This is the summit, you've never been here before but your memory is crystal clear.

Normally you fight a spear, this time you are the spear, spearing inside of her. The easiest way to a girl's heart is to make her cum, so it seems like you will be finishing this final act. Rei's ass cheeks Thunderclap with every thrust, it's total Havoc. It's sort of like a multiplayer card, you pound her ass like she begs and she fingers her cum filled pussy.

Teamwork.

You continue to Heavenly Drill the another orgasm out of her, another shriek and more. No matter how many times you make her cum, you never seen to get further in winning the fight. An infinite stalemate, though her juices Splash off her fingers and into the bed, which is close enough to a victory.

"Please, treat my ass however you want! Fuck, keep going!" The entire street hears it, a Countdown is active. You can only go for so long, a final Spur to make sure this orgasm is The Bomb. "More, please, please, please, I Am Invincible I can take it!"

Helix, Heavenly, what does it matter? You are drilling her, time is drawing to an end. You are Doomed, flooding her asshole with a load of it's own, that's the true Victory. Rei completely dripping, both your cum and her sheer arousal. Converged into one.

It's complete Mind Rot when you pull out, watching it flow out all into a pile, your body is Withering. This run might be over. But you and Rei can definitely do another some other time.

"That was really… really good. You are my new fuck toy, got it?"

"…" Oh, have you been Silent this entire time?

[proudspring]

Squeeze Bee! - Idols (a lot)

Read it on Fanprose

“Is this the right place?” You looked around and expected a lot of people studying in the hallway, but there were none, not even a hint of them.

“W-w-wait… I swear I saw it says quiz bee in the application— what the fuck is a squeeze bee!?”

You stand in front of a classroom door, and the signage says “Squeeze Bee!”

“What the fuck is this— should I back away?” You hesitated for a moment.

The place looked shady; it wasn’t as crowded as it used to be until a student entered the room. She looked smart, with her glasses and the tidiness of her uniform.

“Hmm? So, it must be really a quiz bee…” Your hesitation disappeared when she saw her enter the room

“Yep, I should go in. It’s almost time already.” You opened the door.

What you saw is another surprise for you.

“W-w-wha…”

They’re like angels, a horde of women who radiate beauty and exude elegance.

Your body stiffened, and you’re stuck on the door. The room’s arranged into six clusters. The other four were already occupied, and there’s an open cluster left for you, alone. What’s worse is that the space left was in the middle.

You walked your way into it. Dozens of eyes stared at you; well, you knew why: it’s because you’re the only guy in the room.

“What the fuck is this? Did I really join the right quiz bee?” You thought, sitting down and trying your best to ignore those gazing eyes. You even set your bag and prepare your pen.

“What are you doing?” The girl you saw earlier asked you while pointing at the pen.

“I’m preparing a pen… this is a quiz bee, right?” You’re confused about why she even asked you something so obvious.

“Yeah, this is a squeeze bee.” She tilts her head as if you’re the weird one.

“Pen in squeeze bee…” You heard a mutter.

What’s wrong with the pen? It’s a quiz. And you need it to answer.

“Ruka, we use pen too, penis.”

“Kghh- Excuse me???” You were drinking from your tumbler when you choked up upon hearing it.

You decided to leave. You stood up, and the door suddenly opened.

A woman who wore formal clothes comes in. You already knew that she’s the quizmaster. She looked mature and intelligent; you’ll definitely learn from her.

“Okay, sit down.” She walked all the way to the podium and tapped it to gain attention.

The girls sit on their respective chairs with their cluster. It feels awkward since you just noticed that every group had four members, and you’re alone.

“...”

You were still standing, and all of their eyes were on you.

“I— uhhh, I’m sorry, ma’am, but is this the right room for the—- Bam! –quiz bee?” A pile of books fell to the ground when you were speaking. The girl caused it and immediately apologized.

“Squeeze? Yes, right.” The quizmaster responds.

“What? Squeez— anyway, she still said that I’m right, better sit down and get ready. I’ll top this batch and go home with a medal on my neck—” You sat down when you heard a chain clinking,

“Ryujin bought a leash.” The tall woman is slapping her seatmate, whose name is supposed to be Ryujin.

“We’ll leash the reward back to our den.” Ryujin is swinging the leash like a lasso.

“Put that away.” The quiz master scolds Ryujin.

“Yes, ma–”

“AW!” The leash hit the head of her groupmate, who had these cute, smiling eyes.

The other group laughs at their comedic show, but you can’t help but worry. You asked yourself repeatedly, why the fuck do they need a leash for a quiz bee? Is there a practical exam? If there is, then you’re fucked up; you’re not physically ready for the practical exam.

“Okay, let’s get started— are you alone?” The quizmaster asked you.

“Y-y-yes, I didn’t know this was a group competition.” You responded, scratching the back of your head.

“Competition?”

“Did he just say competition?”

“Is this his first time? Omo, virgin.”

“No way… is he the prize?”

Their whispering is too loud; you can hear them clearly.

“What the fuck does being a virgin do with this!? And why have I become the prize!? Is this their new way of intimidating other contestants? If it is, then it’s fucking working.” You kept wiggling in your seat; it’s so uncomfortable.

“Quiet. Okay, let me introduce myself first. I’m Kim Taeyeon, your squeezemaster.” She lightly bowed. All of you clapped after it.

“...”

“Seriously, what’s with the squeeze thing?” You don’t know anymore; you just wanted to top the quiz and add it to your academic accomplishments.

“Okay, introduce yourself.” She gestured the start on her very right.

The first group is with Ryujin, the girl with the leash.

“Hello! We are the best when it comes to thighs… we are here for COMPE-THIGH-TION!” They introduced themselves in unison,

“I’m Ryujin. I’ll squeeze your face with my thighs since it’s a squeeze bee!”

“I’m Yujin; my legs are long, so you’ll enjoy my thighs more!”

“I’m Jiheon. Imagine wrapping my thighs around your neck, then you’ll look up to find my very cute face.”

“I’m Arin. I’ll let you do anything you want with my thighs. All thigh, all night!”

“What the actual fuck?” That’s it, all you can say.

They’re all pointing at you. What the fuck did you do? You don’t want thighs; that’s what you thought.

“Wow.” Quizmaster Taeyeon clapped.

“They looked like they were from thighland or something.” A girl from the other group remarked.

“Then, next group.” The quiz master gestured to the group next to them.

“Ehem.” The next group stood up— holy mother of milk.

“Let us introduce ourselves; we’re on the next level when it comes to tits! And we’re here for the COMPE-TITS-TION!” They shouted in sync. Looks like introducing themselves in cheering is a thing.

“I’m Karina! The biggest of all, I’ll squeeze you with my tits whenever, wherever, however you like!”

“I’m Eunbi, the real biggest among us! I’ll suck you in between my tits, you like that?”

“I’m Jihyo! I’ll kill you good with my tits! Squeeze it once, squeeze it TWICE! Just squeeze it!”

“I’m Yel! You can’t run, and I’ll let you burn with the heat of my tits!”

“Okay, that’s really something else; that’s absurd— why the fuck do they keep shaking their tits. It’s jiggly– no! I should focus on the quiz!” You shook your head. Those melons looked so good, especially since you felt a little summer heat for a moment.

“Hey, why are you still insisting you’re the biggest among us?”

“Because I am!”

Karina and Eunbi argued, bumpers colliding. Why the fuck are they fighting if they’re the same team?

“Wow, looked more massive than the thigh group.” Quizmaster clapped and kept praising them.

“Tch. All they had was milkers, tits are tits.” Yujin scoffed.

“And thighs are thighs.” Karina shot back, showing Yujin that she had thighs as well.

“Oh my…” You blushed and tried your best not to look at it, but it’s too good.

“Okay, next group.” The quizmaster points at you.

“...”

“...”

“...”

“Huh? Me?” Shit, right, you’re sitting in the middle of them.

“Uhhh, I’m just here for the quiz bee competition…” You said, and silence followed after it. You didn’t prepare anything, since why the fuck would you prepare an introduction like that?

“...”

“Next group.” Quizmaster instantly switched to the other group on your side.

“Hello! Girls, stand up.” They stood up and raised their top, showcasing bricks, buns, rocks— fucking abs.

“We’re the tightest among the mightiest tight! We’re here for the COMPE-TIGHT-TION!” There it goes, the unison cheering effect.

“I’m Seulgi, look at my midriff… You want to touch it?”

“I’m Saerom! Captain of the tights! I’ll let you put your face on my belly, and I’ll squeeze you with a curl-up.”

“I’m Yuna.” She stopped for a moment. You thought it was over, but she took an ice cream out and smeared a little on her belly, “Want some ice cream?”

“I’m Wonyoung, count my abs… one, two… eight.”

“What. the. Fuck.” That’s the most absurd thing you've encountered among the strangest things that happened today. But the day’s still early; there’s absolutely a bigger surprise.

“Where the fuck did that ice cream come from!? And her abs are actually eight!? Your head hurts.

“Wow, but Yuna, food’s not allowed.” The quizmaster scolds her.

Yuna smiled and suddenly went in front of you with her tiny, cute walk.

“Lick it.” She points at the ice cream on her midriff.

“...”

“HUH!?!??” You attempted to stand, but your shoulders were stopped by her slender hand. She’s fucking strong for you.

“I said lick it, Squeezemaster said foods not allowed. A point will deduct on you if you don’t finish your food.” You point at the ice cream.

“B-b-but.”

“It’s minus 10 points.” The quizmaster said.

“Wait! Why am I the one who’s getting deducted!? I’m not the one who smeared the ice cream in the first place?” You looked at the quizmaster for consideration since it’s all nonsense.

“That’s the rules.” She taps the podium

“But—”

“Omo, it’s dripping; lick it already.” Yuna kept tiny hopping in front of you.

The licking and the ice cream weren’t the only problems here. The location of the ice cream is somewhere off to the side, below her navel, and it dripped almost at the top of her skirt.

“Shit.”

You licked it from the bottom and slid your tongue upwards. It’s hella smooth, maybe because of the ice cream?

“AHHHNGg~” Yuna moaned.

“OHHHHHH!” The other girls wowed at the background as if they were watching some animals at the zoo. Well, what you did is somehow animalistic.

“Thanks!” Yuna hopped her way back to their group.

“I should have brought ice cream too and smeared it all over my thighs,” Ryujin muttered at the side.

“Let’s ask Jiheon to buy some,” Yujin responds, tapping Jiheon on her back.

“The squeezemaster said no food.” Jiheon turned them down while applying lotion to her thighs.

“...”

“Should I continue?” You asked yourself, but your body wants to stay.

“Next group— oh, the Japan team.” The squeezemaster moved on to the next group; thankfully, you avoided the point deduction.

“Konichiwa! We’re from Japan, and we’re here for the CUM-PETITION!” They’re in sync as well with a matching polite bow.

“Okay… they might be the most decent ones.” As you thought.

“I’m Kazuha, the most flexible among us. I can drink his cum, whatever position I’m in!”

“I’m Rei, cum anywhere you want, even in my heart!”

“I’m Sakura! Cum over.”

“I’m Tsuki! GingcumMincumYo!”

“No… no… they’re not descent— gingcummincu— is that Japanese!?” You face-palmed. This is definitely not a quiz bee.

“Wow, that’s something!” The quizmaster commended them.

“Ohhh, Japanese! Yamete~” Someone moaned.

“Who the fuck was that!?” You looked over, and it’s Yujin.  It’s from the thigh team again. They’re the noisiest among the groups.

“Okay, last group— a mixed?” The quizmaster gestured for the last group to introduce themselves.

“No, we’re not NMIXX.” One of them spoke.

“I– uhh, hello! We don’t really have any specific strength… uhhh, but we’re monsters! We’re here for the CHOOM-PETITION!” They’re stuttering— how the fuck even they’re stuttering introduction on sync, you’re losing your already lost sanity.

“I’m Ahyeon! You can also call me Ahhngg-Yum!”

“I’m Ruka! I’ll be the next squeezemaster!”

“I’m Asa! Look at my ass— assa!”

“I’m Pharita; I’m the real Thai.” She looked mockingly at the thigh group.

“Wow… interesting!” The squeezemaster clapped again.

That’s it, all of the cum–choom–competits—thigh–tight—competitors.

“Now that we already know each other's competitors and what they are fighting for—Let’s the SQUEEZE BEE begin!”

The quiz master opened the quiz.

“Whooo!”

“Assa!”

“Let’s goooo!”

“Fucking hell.” Of course, you’re the one who said it.

“Okay, okay. For each group, please select the member to participate that you guys think fits the description very well.” The quizmaster announced the rules.

There’s already a problem for you. While others nodded, you shook your head.

You’re alone.

“M-m-ma’am, how about me?”

“Why? You want some ice cream again?” Yuna butts in.

“No!” You turned her down, though there’s a part of you want to taste the vanilla creamy— shit.

“You’re alone, so you had to participate in the quiz all by yourself.” The quizmaster cleared it for you.

“Okay, understood.” You nod.

“Ice cream?” Yuna whispered to you.

“No.” Turned her down again.

“There are a total of eight questions! So each one of you had the chance to answer twice, except the guy over there, who had to answer eight times.” The quizmaster resumed announcing the rules.

“Eight abs…” Wonyoung muttered.

`````````````````

“If everything’s clear, then let’s head for the first question. The participant to answer the question must be the tallest in the group!

COMPE-THIGH-TOR:

“Shit, disqualified already.” Ryujin slammed her desk.

“Whooo~” Yujin stood up and went in front of her group.

COMPE-TITS-TOR:

“Who? Who?” Eunbi was asking her groupmates as if she still had the chance.

“Who else? It’s Titan Yel.” 

“Stop, it sounds like Titan gel.” Yel slapped Karina’s arm.

COMPE-TIGHT-TOR:

“It must be Wonyoung.” Seulgi and Saerom look unamused,

“Hmm, a few centimeters more.” Yuna tiptoeing to match Wonyoung’s height.

“Okay!” Wonyoung stood up and went in front of her group as well.

CUM-PETITOR:

“Is it Rei?” Kazuha gasped.

“How in the world?” Tsuki looks like she thought she was the tallest among them.

“You’re 170cm!? Wow… she looks tiny since she looked so cute.” Sakura praised Rei’s cuteness.

“Hehe.” Rei just giggled. Okay, that’s also cute for you.

CHOOM-PETITOR:

“Wait a minute!” They are asking for more time. They’re measuring themselves.

“Chottomate!” They’re standing side by side, their heights like an old phone signal.

“Okay.” Ruka steps in front.

“....”

There must be an error, but surprisingly, the quizmaster let her in.

“Okay! All decided, question number one!” There it goes, the first question.

They’re giggling and playing around, but you're tense and nervous. You’re taking this way too seriously.

“What do you think the kind of girl that a man likes?”

COMPE-THIGH-TOR:

“Thighs! Girls with thick thighs, of course!” Yujin slapped her thighs; it echoed through the room.

COMPE-TITS-TOR:

“Tits! Girl with big tits! Round and squishy!” Yel played with her breasts; she had already unbuttoned the top two buttons of her uniform.

COMPE-TIGHT-TOR:

“Tight pussy! A girl like me with a tight pussy! The grip of it can make them feel heaven.” Wonyoung raised her top to show her tight midriff again.

CUM-PETITOR:

“Uhhh, face? They can cum on my face anytime.” Rei’s just happy to be there; she’s way too cute to have cum on her face.

CHOOM-PETITOR:

“A girl with uhhh, primal sex skills?” Ruka’s embarrassed with her own answer, and even her own groupmates face-palmed.

“Uhhh, a girl with a personality?” You answered the question, though it’s not academically related. You just wanted to win.

“...”

“Personality is correct!” The quizmaster gave you a point.

“Yes!” You punched the air, one point in, more points to go.

The quizmaster didn’t explain why your answer was right, but what matters is that you’re right.

“It’s not thighs? Argh.” Yujin can’t hide her frustration.

“Phew, I thought I got it for a second,” Yel said.

“Hey, your answer is tits; how do you think you even got the right answer?” Wonyoung questioned Yel’s confidence.

“I didn’t hear it clearly; I thought the answer’s personali-tits.” Yel explained.

“Come to think of it, it can also be personali-tight.” Wonyoung clapped as if she had thought of something brilliant.

“Right! Personali-thigh!” Yujin joined in, showing her thighs once more.

Your hurts, but something’s throbbing. You can tell what it was… yet.

````````````````````````

“Question number two, the participant must be the prettiest!”

COMPE-THIGH-TOR:

“Okay! Move.” Arin shoved the other girls, but got blocked instead.

“It’s me again.” Yujin didn’t leave her spot.

“I guess it’s my turn.” Jiheon stood up.

“Guys, give way.” Ryujin decided by herself.

In the end, Ryujin represents the group.

COMPE-TITS-TOR:

“Is it my turn?” Eunbi’s quite a competitor this time.

“Me, me.” Karina hopped her way to their front.

Jihyo and Yel agreed, and Eunbi pouted.

COMPE-TIGHT-TOR:

“Okay, let’s flip a coin. Girls, we’re all pretty. I’m on the heads since I love dickheads.” Seulgi pulled out a coin.

“I’m on the tail. I love men's tails.” Saerom claimed the other side.

“Men's tails?” Yuna doesn't get it.

“Yes, just in front, though, their dicktail.” Saerom wiggled in pure happiness.

“Does it mean that Yuna and I were out of the choices already?” Wonyoung points at the coin.

“...”

“Right, only two sides— whatever.” Seulgi tossed it.

Heads. Seulgi went in front of them.

CUM-PETITOR:

“It’s Kazuha.” Tsuki nudged Kazuha.

“Kazuha, you better not betray us and join the thigh group,” Sakura said, keeping her eyes on Kazuha.

“Go, Kazuha-chan!” Rei cheered for Kazuha.

“Okay! I’ll boompala this round!” Kazuha went forward.

CHOOM-PETITOR:

“Asa,” Pharita pushed Asa forward.

“No, it’s Ahyeon! I’m waiting for the best ass category!” Asa stepped back and pushed Ahyeon instead.

“Haaa…” Ruka still looks defeated to butt in.

Ahyeon will represent their team.

“Is everyone ready? Okay! Question number two!”

“What part of the body do men like?”

COMPE-THIGH-TOR:

“Thighs! The answer’s thigh for sure!” Ryujin stepped forward and showed everyone her thighs.

COMPE-TITS-TOR:

“It’s tits! It's— just look at this!” Karina leveled up the game; she took her top off and showcased a black fitted lingerie top!

“Aish!” You moved your face to your side, avoiding Karina’s vulgar actions, just to find out that Seulgi had already stripped her skirt, including her underwear.

COMPE-TIGHT-TOR:

“Tight pussy! Look, who can’t resist having a taste of this tight, puffy pussy.” She even spread it open.

“Shit!” You just closed your eyes; these girls had no shame!

CUM-PETITOR:

“Uhhh, face! No man can resist a beauty sucking their dick!” Kazuha is making a chugging sound as if she’s drinking sake.

CHOOM-PETITOR:

“Uhhh— choom?” Ahyeon didn’t know the answer, and her groupmates were groaning in disappointment.

“Uhhh, a girl with a personality?” You answered the question, though it’s not academically related. You just wanted to win.

You slowly opened your eyes since it’s your time to answer.

“Uhhh— shit–” Seulgi had her pussy free for everyone while Karina kept her tits bouncing.

“Uhhh, a girl with a good heart?” You responded. You still stay with the most modest answer you can think of, even after all the insanity you’ve witnessed.

“...”

“Good heart is correct!” The quizmaster gave you another point.

“Yes!” You punched the air one more time, another point secured!

“Shit! Almost another point for us.” Karina is acting as Yel did earlier.

“H-h-huh? Why?” Ryujin’s puzzled.

“Think about it, a woman with a good heart, where is the heart? Behind these tits.” She stripped her bra.

“AISSH!” You turn sideways— wrong move; Seulgi’s pussy is there.

“What the fuck is wrong with these girls?” You looked down instead.

“Oh shit, then thigh’s too far— we lost again.” Ryujin accepted defeat.

“I knew it; I should have said he can cum to my chest instead of face.” Kazuha sounds annoyed, but she keeps making chugging sounds.

But what’s the basis of your right answer?

“... but how was my answer right?” You let the first one go, but it’s kind of suspicious that you kept getting it right.

“It’s simple. You’re the only man here.”

“...”

You’re analyzing what the quiz master just said.

“All these questions are about men, so everything you answer is right.” The quizmaster grinned.

“...”

You got it.

“What in the world is that—— I’ll leave. You’re all insane! The absurd questions! The insane group names! And outrageous shameless nudity—I even licked someone's belly!” You're ranting and about to storm out.

Bam!

The door shuts, and you hear the girls lock it.

“W-w-what are you doing!?” The thigh group and the tits group walked in front of you.

You stepped back, but there’s also someone behind you, the tight group. The Choom group and the Japanese group are on your side.

You were surrounded, 24 girls were encircling you!

“Uh-oh, you can’t leave. We can’t continue the squeeze bee if there’s no man to give us an answer.” 

“W-what answer!? Oh! Don’t come near me and your heavy chest! Stay away from me!” Karina jabbed a foot.

“You should just stay put and enjoy the competition.” The quizmaster laughed.

“What do you want!? Answer? Fine! I’ll give you an answer! The answer is that all of you are insane!” You point at each one of them.

“I always think it’s a good thing being insane,” Rei smirked. You always taught she’s cute; now she’s scary cute.

“We’re used to it, people telling me I always have insane thighs.” Ryujin points at her thighs, but it wasn’t the one that caught your attention; it’s the leash beside it, her toy.

“Gulped. No, you’re crazy, you’re all out of your damn mind.” You can’t move; you’re basically trapped in the middle.

“Want some ice cream?” Yuna asked you about ice cream again.

“No! How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want a cream!” You yelled at her.

She got teary-eyed.

“Uhhh, n-no, I’m sorry about that.” Shit, you can feel the anger in their eyes since you made Yuna cry.

“F-f-fine! I want ice cream!” You told Yuna, and she smiled right away.

“But Ice cream’s outside since the squeeze master tells no food allowed.” She’s pouting, and the other girls glared at you again.

They're fighting earlier, and now they’re teaming up against you! And, why the hell did she even ask you for an ice cream if it’s outside!?

“Then, no more ice cream, okay!” You felt relieved.

“But in exchange, how about you give us cream instead?” Yuna leaned in, her face inches away from you.

You can’t step back, so you side-step instead. However, there’s very little room to work with.

“C-c-cream?” You don’t like where it’s going.

“CREAMPIE!” Now they’re united; they all said the same word at the same time.

“NO! HOW DID THE QUIZ SUDDENLY TURN TO THIS!!?” Your veins are popping out of anger and insanity. 

“Okay.” The quizmaster tapped her podium once again for their attention.

“...”

“For the third question, it’s a free-for-all—”

“Free for all!? What the fuck is that? Survival of the fittest? I’ll le–”

“Quiet, man.” The quiz master glared at you. She’s the scariest among them.

“A free-for-all, it means anyone can participate, but the points will still go to their respective group.” It sounds interesting, but you’ve got a bad feeling about it.

“You are already disqualified due to your behaviour; instead, you’ll give us an answer!” The quizmaster tapped his podium as if she’s a judge. You’re disqualified; that’s the verdict.

Then what’s the point of staying? Nothing.

Can you leave? No.

You’re fucked.

“The third question! Who do you think had the best oral skills among all of you?”

“...”

Upon hearing the question, they all turned to look at you. Some drool, some smile like a villain.

Come to think of it…

“Wait.” You just noticed something.

“You’re not students… aren’t you?” You asked them about the way they act, their boldness, and their craziness.

It’s something obvious that you should’ve noticed as early as you could.

“You don’t need to know~,” Ryujin answered. She’s already crawling!

“Fuck!” You just got a deja vu upon seeing her crawl; she’s like a cat, a dangerous one.

“No… don’t come near me!” Each one of them took a step forward.

“Come on~ just let us suck your dick and tell them that I sucked the best.” You rarely interact with that Jihyo girl, but you can tell she’s insane as well- in fact, all of them!

“Hold him.”

“W-wha— HMMMP!” Saerom and Seulgi held your body from behind, and Wonyoung sealed your mouth with her lips.

You just got kissed, your first kiss.

You always dream of getting your first kiss as romantic and full of love, but you got a kiss full of hunger instead.

“HMM! HMMM!” Both of your hands were held by Eunbi on the left and Ahyeon on the right. They sucked your fingers.

“They said fingers are primarily the main instrument for the sense of touch. Tell us, do we suck good?” Ahyeon spoke in the middle of her sucking.

“Hmm, can you feel my tongue?” Eunbi twirls her tongue over your thumb.

It feels disgusting, but why are you moaning? Have you also lost your mind? The answer’s simply yes; it started the moment you saw the signage at the door.

“You don’t need this.” Yujin tore your top and kissed your chest.

“Hurry up, Jiheon, free his dick and sucked it already!” Arin keeps tapping Jiheon, who’s struggling to strip you since she’s trembling in excitement.

“I know! Don’t worry, all of us will have a turn at his lollipop!” Jiheon yanked your pants off.

The other girls who are out in action stripped off as well. Karina and Yel praised each other's tits, Kazuha asked how to join the thigh group, Rei innocently asked when her face would get sprayed with cum, and many more.

A lot is going on, but one thing you’re very aware of, you can’t do anything to stop it.

“HMMPP– pwah! AHHNG–HMMMM!” The moment Wonyoung is freed from the kiss, you feel your dick enter a wet and hot cave, then Seulgi turns your head into hers and kisses you this time.

“Aish. I should have been quicker, ahmpp. Saerom’s a little late to kiss you and bit your ear instead.

“Hmm~ Hmmm~” Jiheon is bobbing her head. She’s sucking it like crazy.

“Omo! She looks like a cake, everybody has to blow his candle. What fun!” Sakura hopped in happiness, and Asa hopped as well. The two Japanese interact like it’s just a normal day, but there’s nothing normal about it!

“Hmm~ this is the best— HMMM!!!” She kept blowing when Arin attempted to push her head away, but she was resisting.

“Hurry up and share him already!” Arin keeps pushing Jiheon.

“HMMPPP! HMMPP!” Jiheon’s teeth scrape your shaft, and all you can do is scream through Seulgi’s mouth.

Seulgi freed your lips after a minute of frenchie, and Saeorm instantly grabbed the opportunity to take her turn. You noticed Seulgi moved away and was replaced by Karina, her tits instantly resting on your shoulders.

“Rest.” She pushed your head to her breast, a fucking soft pillow for your bruised head— no, the pleasure starts to drown you.

“When will the cream come?” Yuna is sucking her own fingers, patiently waiting.

“It’s crowded over there; I can’t see what’s happening!?” Ruka is jumping just to see what’s happening.

“I knew something was wrong when I saw you participate earlier with the tallest member category!” Ryujin caught Ruka cheating.

“What’s that?” Instead of being mad, Ruka noticed Ryujin’s bag, which she was dragging.

“My toys, leash, dildo, butt plug—”

“HMMMM!” Your eyes shot wide open when you heard the plug.

“Oh! Ryujin brought toys!” Jihyo noticed it.

“Guys, grab yours! Let’s play!” Ryujin handed over her toys as if it’s just regular toys…

You had to leave!

To be continued…

[bunnsfw]

Hannya: Act I 堕落 (Daraku) - The Fall

Summary: You looked like a man doing math you didn't want to do. Then she sat down and made the equation worse.

Tags: Tsuki (Billlie) x Male Reader (Named OC) | Wordcount: 8,390~ | Supernatural, Smut, Corporate Drama

A/N: My name is Hinode Akihiro. Bunn graciously put ink to paper to write my story; took him months, I've heard, and he's not done yet (smh). A warning: it's not flattering at all; I'm at my lowest, okay?! I made bad decisions in a hotel suite and worse ones in a networking event. (Don't ask, just read.) One more thing: you'll be reading this from inside my head. I'd apologize, but Tsuki said you'd enjoy it. (You'll see what she means.) Leave a comment whenever you think I fucked up or said something you agree with; I promise I'll read them. Tell me at the end if you'd have done anything differently. And if I understand it right, Tsuki also said she'll reply if it compels her. -日の出 明宏

Recommend Reading This On Fanprose.

✦⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡

Seven pounds.

Who knew twelve years in a company only weighs seven pounds in a box filled with memories of getting spitroasted day and night by CFOs when they are the ones who fucked up.

“It was a pleasure working with you Hinode-san. This is what’s best for everyone. You know that, right?”

That’s what Yamamoto-san said this morning. All you can do is nod. He shook your hand. Couldn’t even meet your eyes. Asshole. 

HR slid the NDA across the table. Fourteen pages of legal garbage establishing that you had nothing to do with any of this which really makes you wonder why you’re the one carrying the box. You signed it. Of course you did. What else can you do? 

It was going well. Corner office. On track for partner. Six months from the vote.

Now you’re carrying a box past security. “Tanaka-san.”

You’ve known him for nine years. He’s giving you nothing. Not even a glance.

“See you around, yeah?”

Nine Christmases of bringing him coffee because he pulled holiday shifts so the younger guys could stay home. You know his daughter’s birthday (never missed giving her a gift.) You know his wife cooks the best okonomiyaki in Chiyoda (god you’re going to miss the bentos she prepares for everyone every summer). Tanaka-san is a good man.

But now? He’s staring blankly into his desk like it holds the secrets to the universe. Sigh.

You don’t blame him. You wouldn’t look at you either.

The revolving door spits you out into Tokyo’s buzzing October air. Risk of rain and umbrellas and exhaust and the distinct smell of a man who used to fucking matter.

Your car is three blocks away. You start walking.

Phone buzzes, you ignore it. It’s been buzzing all day actually. Past clients, colleagues, and the occasional journalist fishing for a comment on the “developing situation at Ishikawa & Partners.” Noted. Fuck that specifically. No comment. 

Here’s what’s funny. In all of this fuckery happening within the company, becoming this week’s hot topic on social media, and the ongoing federal interrogation. All that and news flash: you were not even remotely close to being involved.

You didn’t know the partners were signing off on fraudulent audits. The machinery of corruption humming along beneath your feet: shell companies, kickbacks, under-the-table transactions that got approved for the better part of a decade. 

The worst part of all of this is you just worked there. You worked your fucking ass off every single day. You were great at your job; and now you’re walking through downtown with a box containing an Ikea desk lamp, three framed certifications, and a coffee mug your sister gave you that says “World’s Most Meh Brother.”

She thought she was being funny. Right now why the hell does it feel like she knew this was gonna happen.

Your footsteps echo as you walk through the cold parking lot. The Lexus sits where you left it this morning, back when you were still a senior manager at a prestigious firm and not whatever you are now.

Unemployable. 

(Kinda being too dramatic, no? Are you being dramatic? Name one firm that will touch you now.)

…

Yeah. It’s over. Might as well pivot to becoming a geologist since you’ve hit rock bottom.

You were not fired, technically (thank god for technicalities). You resigned, which is its own kind of joke if you think about it. You resigned because the alternative was getting laid the fuck off in the first wave of “restructuring,” and at least this way you can pretend you had some say in your own downward spiral.

Everyone knows. Everyone. Fucking. Knows.

The financial world is small, news travels fast, and by tomorrow your name will be permanently welded to the biggest accounting scandal since Polaris (and that company’s done fucked up stuff: military corruption, ties to the yakuza, basically all the red flags you can think of.) Not because you did anything wrong; because you were there. 

You put the box in the trunk. Close it. Stand there with your hand on the cold metal. Let out a deep sigh.

Phone buzzes again.

This time you look. Mom.

How did it go today Aki?

We’re praying for you.

Hope you’re doing fine.

Have you eaten yet?

Four messages in the span of thirty seconds. She must be worried, classic mom. You should call her. You should explain what happened. You should…

Phone screen darkens. 

You’ll call her tomorrow; explain that the severance is generous, that you have savings, that everything will be fine.

But not tonight. Not when the wounds are fresh.

Tonight you’re going to find a bar and drink until the numbers stop adding up in your head.

✦⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡

You found a newly opened hotel in Shinjuku. The hotel bar is the kind of place that caters to shady accounts and dark secrets, you fit right in. Dark mahogany wood, warm ambient lighting, and thankfully a bartender who understands that sometimes a man needs to be served and just left alone with his bourbon.

It’s the third glass when she sits down. You feel the air thin out; must be the bourbon.

Weird.

You didn’t see anyone approaching. Didn’t hear the stool move. She’s just there, like she’s been waiting for you to notice.

Except you don’t notice her at first. 

You’re too busy staring at amber liquid, running calculations that don’t matter anymore: How much runway? Severance lasts eight months if you’re careful. Savings? Maybe another year. Parents? They definitely need the monthly support; that’s a non-negotiable. Your sister’s final year of graduate school? You promised you’d cover it, and you don’t break promises.

The numbers work, barely. As long as you find something to do in six months.

But who the fuck is going to hire you?

“You look like a man who’s doing math he doesn’t want to do.” Soft voice, slightly amused.

You look up.

She’s watching you with her dark eyes that catch the bar’s low light wrong. Pretty isn’t the word, neither is beautiful. There’s something more specific than that. Features that shouldn’t work together but create a face you can’t stop looking at. For now you settle with otherworldly.

Full lips, the kind that suggests smiles she hasn’t given you permission to receive yet. Hair dark enough to disappear into the shadows behind her. A simple black dress that definitely cost more than this month’s rent.

“Just… Running some projections,” you say. Your voice is rough, haven’t talked to a soul in hours.

“Mhmm.” She signals the bartender without looking at him. “Projections for what?”

“How long until I’m sleeping under a bridge, roughly.” (You wish you were joking.)

She laughs. Small, controlled, her face changes for a second; something flickers behind her eyes. Interest, maybe. 

“You don’t look like the bridge-sleeping type.”

“I didn’t think I was the unemployed type either, but here we are.”

The bartender sets down red wine. She picks it up, swirls it, and doesn’t drink. Pretty sure he didn’t ask what she wanted. Just set it down like he already knew.

Weird.

You’re three bourbons deep, maybe you just missed her order. Maybe she’s a regular. Maybe… 

“Ishikawa & Partners,” she says confidently. Your body tenses. “It’s on your face,” she shifts on her seat inching towards you. “That’s the kind of devastation that comes from watching something you built get burned down by people who never appreciated it. Never appreciated you.”

You take a drink, the bourbon doesn’t burn anymore. Fuck, probably a bad sign. You should probably stop drinking.

“I didn’t build anything. I just worked there.”

“For twelve years. You don’t stay somewhere for twelve years unless you’re building something.”

You didn’t tell her anything about the twelve years. You’re sure you didn’t; but the bourbon is thick in your head and she’s already moving on, and maybe you did mention it. Maybe.

She tilts her head. “What were you?”

“Senior manager, on track to become a partner.” The words taste like ash. “Six months from the vote. Then… Well, then this morning happened.”

“Ah.” She finally sips her wine. “So you didn’t just lose a job, you lost a future.”

Something in your chest tightens. First time anyone worded it correctly.

“Yeah,” you say. “Something like that.”

She’s quiet. The bar continues to hum around you. Low conversations, clinking glasses, someone’s muted laughter from a booth in the corner. Sounds from a world that kept moving while yours stopped.

“What’s your name?” she asks.

“Akihiro. Hinode.”

“Akihiro.” She rolls it around her mouth like she’s tasting it. “I’m Tsuki.”

“Just Tsuki?”

“For now.” That almost-smile again. “Are you always this suspicious of women who talk to you in bars, Akihiro?”

“I’m not usually the type women talk to in bars.”

“No,” She looks at you; eyes you up and down. Past the rumpled suit and the stubble that’s been growing and the distinct slump of a man who’s visually given up. “I don’t suppose you are. But tonight’s not usual, is it?”

It isn’t. Nothing about tonight is usual. Nothing about this woman is usual.

She shifts on her stool and you notice things. The way her dress catches the light (it doesn’t.) The curve of her neck where it meets her shoulder. Her lips… Which you keep looking at like a goddamn teenager who’s never seen a woman before.

Get it together Akihiro. You’re a grown man, you’ve flirted before. You know how this works, right? (It’s futile, you’re still looking at her lips.)

“You should eat something,” she says.

“Not hungry.”

“You’re also not sober. Eat something anyway.”

There’s no reason to listen to her. She’s a stranger; an otherworldly stranger who appeared out of nowhere to comment on your tragedy, which is either a fantasy or a warning sign, and you’re too drunk to tell which.

You signal the bartender and order some fries anyway.

Tsuki lets out a genuine smile that contrasts the calculated smiles she’s been giving you all night. It changes her whole face. Makes her look younger and more dangerous at the same time.

“Good,” she says. “I like a man who can take directions.”

“I don’t usually… I usually…”

“I know.”

Something in her voice makes you pause. I know. As if she actually is certain. As if she’s been watching you longer than the ten minutes since she appeared.

The fries arrive. You eat them without tasting much, but she’s right. The food helps, you’re famished. The room steadies. Your thoughts start to sharpen from blur to something approaching clarity.

“So what happens now?” Tsuki asks. “The projections. The math that’s happening in your head. What’s your plan?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Everyone has a plan Akihiro. Even if it’s just ‘survive until tomorrow.’”

You consider this. The alcohol wants you to lie and to perform competence; to pretend you’ve got this handled. But something about her makes lying feel pointless, like she’d see through it anyway.

“I’ll call in favors,” you say. “I have contacts. People who know what I’m capable of, separate from—” you gesture vaguely, trying to encompass the scandal, the firm, and the entire smoking crater of your career “—all that. I’ll reach out to all of them. See who’s still willing to give me a chance.”

“And if no one answers?”

“Then I figure something else out. I always do.”

She nods slowly, swirling her wine. Her lips still haven’t touched her glass.

“The people who did this to you Akihiro,” she says. “The partners, the ones who were actually behind all of this. Where are they tonight? What are they doing?”

The question catches you off guard; you hadn’t thought about it. You’re too busy counting your own losses.

“I don’t know. Home… Probably. Consulting with their own set of lawyers, planning their defense.”

“So they’re comfortable, then.”

“I guess.”

“Sneaking out with their mistresses. Eating dinner with their families. Sleeping in their own comfy bed. Not sitting in a hotel bar at…” she glances at her watch “...eleven-thirty on a Tuesday, doing math about potential airbnb bridges.”

You don’t say anything. You can’t. But the bourbon is wearing off and the emotion replacing it is uglier.

She then considers her glass. Looks at it for a beat, then back at you.

“Does that bother you?” she asks. “That they are comfortable and you’re here?”

“I don’t…” You stop. Start again. “What they did wasn’t personal. They didn’t do this to me. They just did it, and I unfortunately got caught in the blast radius.” 

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Her eyes are fixed on yours. Dark, direct, steady, and somehow warmer than they should be; given what she’s asking.

“Yes,” you say finally. “It bothers me.”

“Good.” She finishes her wine in one swallow then sets the glass down. “It should.”

She stands, and you realize she’s leaving. The panic that shoots through you is irrational. She’s a stranger, you just met her. What the fuck is wrong with you?

“Wait,” you say. “Where are you…”

“I have a room upstairs.” She says it casually. “I was going to invite you, but you seem like the type who needs to be asked directly. So I’m asking.”

The words hang there. Huh? What is even happening right now? Your brain, which has spent twelve years analyzing risk and calculating probability, offers no useful input whatsoever.

“I’m not…” you start, but you don’t know how to finish. The kind of man who goes to hotel rooms with pretty strangers. You can’t make small talk right now. You’re not even sure what’s left in you to feel except this gray void that’s been eating you all day.

“You’re not what?” Tsuki asks patiently. Clearly amused at the broken man in front of her.

“I’m just a mess right now.”

“I noticed.” She holds out her hand. Slender fingers, nails painted red so dark it’s almost black. “Come anyway.”

You look at her hand. At her face. At her lips, curved into a shape that should look like a smile but isn’t quite there yet.

Every logical part of you is screaming that this is a bad idea. You are drunk, you are vulnerable, you don’t know this woman, and the last thing you need is to add “poor decisions with pretty strangers” to your ever growing list of recent failures.

Then you think: The logical parts of your brain are the parts that got you here. Twelve years of doing everything by the book; look where it landed you. Fuck it.

You take her hand.

✦⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡

The elevator ride is silent. 

Her hand stays in yours. Small, warm, surprisingly smooth all throughout. You notice her features in the harsh overhead light that you missed in the bar’s dimness: The exact shape of her collarbones beneath the thin silky fabric of her dress. Her breathing pattern, slow, even, and completely controlled.

Actually, it’s almost too controlled. Her pulse should be racing; heck, yours is. When your thumb brushes her wrist, there’s nothing. It beats steady and slow. Not one bit nervous.

Then you go back to her lips. You can’t stop looking at her lips. Some shade between rose and wine that you couldn’t name but won’t forget. You’re wondering if you’re ever going to get a taste of—

“You’re staring,” she says.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” The elevator dings. Doors open. “Just know that I see you doing it.”

The hallway is long, ominous, and quiet. Thick carpet swallows your footsteps. You pass a decorative alcove, traditional masks mounted on the wall. One catches your eye: a woman’s face, features twisted between anguish and rage, small horns emerging from the forehead. Beautiful and terrible.

Tsuki ignores it, doesn’t even react. But her hand tightens in yours, just slightly, as you pass.

She produces a keycard from somewhere. You didn’t see her carrying a purse. She opens a door near the end.

The room is a suite. Large and expensive; totally out of your budget right now. It’s the kind of room someone books when money isn’t a concern. Floor-to-ceiling windows look out over the city, Tokyo lights glittering in the darkness.

You’re barely through the door when she turns and her lips clash into yours. 

Her mouth is hot and demanding, her hands fisting in your jacket, pulling you closer with a strength that surprises you. She tastes like red wine, exactly how you imagined, and there’s an aftertaste underneath it; something dark and sweet and sinful. 

Fuck it.

You return the favor and kiss her back with the same intensity. Your hands find her waist, the curve of her hips through the thin fabric. She makes a sound against your mouth that’s between a moan and a laugh.

“Good boy,” she breathes. “There you are.”

She pushes you backward until your legs hit the bed. You sit with your whole weight, and she stands over you, looking down. The lighting behind her turns her into a bewitching silhouette, edges glowing, face in shadow.

“Take them off.”

You do.

Jacket first. Tie follows, then shirt when she gestures impatiently. Cool air brushes upon your bare chest, but her gaze is hot enough to compensate.

“Lie back.”

You do that too.

There is something about the way she gives orders that makes refusal feel moot, it feels inevitable.

She climbs onto the bed. Straddles you without touching, her knees bracketing your hips, her weight hovering just above yours. The hem of her dress rides up, revealing thighs that are toned and milky and smooth and close enough to touch if you just…

You reach for her.

“No.” She catches your wrists. Her grip is stronger than it should be. Not painful, but immovable. “Hands on the headboard.”

“What?”

“Put your hands on the headboard, and keep them there.”

You reach back and your fingers find cold metal bars. You grip them, and she smiles. That smile again, the one that puts you in a trance meant to obey her every word.

“Good boy.”

Then she lowers herself slowly. Just enough that you can feel the heat of her through the fabric of your slacks but not enough to give you any real friction.

You let out a sound between a groan and a whimper. Your hips try to lift, to chase the contact, but she rises with you, maintaining the exact distance she’s chosen.

“None of that.” Her voice is light, conversational, as if she isn’t torturing you. “Stay still. You take what I give you.”

“But Tsuki I…”

“Shhhh~”

She leans forward. 

Her lips slowly brush your neck, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. Barely there; teasing. When you turn your head to try and capture her in a real kiss, she pulls back just far enough to deny you.

“Tsuki…”

You hear her breathe in.

“You smell like bourbon,” she murmurs against your throat. “And desperation but underneath all that, something interesting.”

Her hips roll. Once. A slow grind that drags a groan out of you despite yourself. She’s pressed against you now, heat and pressure and the thin barrier of clothing between you.

“That’s better.” Her breath is warm against your ear. “I wondered if you were still in there. If there was anything left under all that devastation.”

“I’m—”

“You’re very pretty when you’re falling apart.” She bites your earlobe. “Did you know that?”

Her hands work at your belt. She’s efficient, unhurried, and not wasting any time. She draws down the zipper, and the relief of pressure makes you gasp. Then her fingers wrap around you through your boxers, and your brain shortcircuits.

“There we go.” She strokes slowly, firmly, the fabric adding friction that borders on too much. “There’s my broken man.”

Usually you’d be offended by that. You should feel used, manipulated, reduced to something less than yourself—a plaything. But her hand is moving and her lips are tracing patterns on your throat and all you can feel is the desperate need for more.

“Please,” you hear yourself say.

“Please what?”

“More. I need…”

“I know what you need.” She pulls back. Your cock twitches at the loss of contact. “But you haven’t earned it yet.”

Before you can respond, she shifts down your body. Her fingers hook into the waistband of your boxers and pull them down; just enough to free you. The air is cool and you’re achingly throbbing hard.

“Not bad,” she says. Like your dignity isn’t spilling across the hotel sheets. “A little distracted, maybe. A little too in your head.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.” She traces one finger along your length. Base to the underside then to your tip, feather-light. “You’re thinking about tomorrow, about the phone calls you need to make, the bridges you need to rebuild, the hundred small humiliations waiting for you when you walk out of this room; about everything except what’s right in front of you.”

She’s right. Even now, even with her hand on your aching cock, some part of your brain is still doing the math, calculating the odds, preparing for the worst.

“Let me help you with that,” she says.

She lowers her head. Takes her time. You watch her descend. Her dark hair falling forward, her breath warm against your stomach, your hip bone, the crease of your thigh. Deliberately avoiding your cock, which twitches and strains toward her.

“Look at you,” she murmurs against your skin. “So eager. So hungry.”

Her tongue traces a line from your hip to your inner thigh. You shudder.

“When’s the last time someone touched you like this? Really took their time with you and not just going through the motions.”

You can’t answer, can’t even remember. Your last relationship ended two years ago, the reason: Mutual exhaustion, on brand, both of you too busy building careers to build anything else. Since then, nothing. 

You hadn’t realized how starved you are for touch until now.

“That long?” She sounds amused. Her lips brush the base of your cock, and you make a sound that you don’t even want to name. “Poor thing.”

Her lips close around you. Just the tip, just enough to make you jerk against the headboard. Her mouth is hot, impossibly hot, and wet, and impossibly soft, her tongue swirling over your cockhead in patterns that should be illegal in several prefectures.

You’ve had blowjobs before, but whatever she’s doing with her tongue; your entire education has not prepared you for this.

For one perfect second, there’s nothing in your head except the sensation of her.

Then she pulls off then sits back. She wipes the corner of her mouth with one elegant finger.

“No,” you say. It comes out pathetic and broken. “Please don’t stop…”

“You taste like need.” She tilts her head. “Like someone who’s been empty for a very long time and didn’t even notice until just now.”

“Tsuki—”

“Shhhh.” She rises onto her knees. Her hands go to the thin straps of her dress, and she slides them down her shoulders excruciatingly slow. Revealing inch after inch of her perfect porcelain skin.

The dress falls to her waist. You want to touch her more than you’ve wanted anything in recent memory. Your hands twitch against the headboard.

“Stay,” she says. Like you’re a dog. Like you’d do anything she asked as long as she kept looking at you like that.

(You would. You’d bark too if she asked for it. That’s the terrifying part.)

She reaches back. The dress slithers down her hips, and she’s naked above you. Toned limbs and soft curves and that face, watching you with dark eyes reflecting nothing and seeing everything.

Her tits are fuller than you expected. Ample, perfectly shaped, nipples erect making your mouth water. You want to taste them. You want to taste every inch of her.

“You look like you yearn for my touch,” she says. 

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

She laughs, low and pleased. “You’re getting greedy. I like that.”

She takes your hand releasing it from the headboard, and brings it to her chests. Your fingers curve around the soft weight of her tits. She shivers. Just slightly; a crack in her composure.

“Like this,” she says. “Gently, like you’re learning every part of me.”

You are; making an inventory of every stimulus: The texture of her skin. The give of her mounds in your palm. The way her nipples harden against your touch. She guides your thumb across it, and her breath catches. You hear a small sound forced out of her.

“Good,” she croons. “That’s good.”

She lets you explore her with both hands now: The dip of her waist. The flare of her hips. The surprising softness of her inner thighs. You take your time, learning every curve, every part of her where your touch makes her breath trickle in intervals.

You lean up to press your lips to her collarbone, slowly tasting her; expensive rose margarita, floral notes with hints of salt. You can’t get enough of it so you continue tasting her. She doesn’t stop you this time. Her fingers thread through your hair, holding you there, letting you trace your mouth down to her decadent breasts.

You take her nipple in your mouth.

The sound she makes; low, involuntary, almost a moan. It sends electricity through you. She tastes clean, faintly sweet, definitely addicting. You roll the other nipple between your fingers, and her hips jerk against you.

“Careful,” she breathes. But she doesn’t pull away. Her hand tightens in your hair.

You worship her. There’s absolutely no other word for it. You learn the weight of her plush tits, the exact shade of those nipples, the way she gasps when you graze them with your teeth. You memorize the curve of her ribs, the softness of her stomach, the trail of heat your mouth leaves down her body.

When you reach the crease of her thigh, she stops you.

“Not yet.” Her voice rougher now. Less controlled. “Lie back Akihiro.”

You do.

She shifts down your body, and you feel her everywhere. The brush of her hair against your chest, her tits dragging across your stomach, her breath warm against your hip.

She takes you in her hand.

“Let me give this a taste,” she says as her eyes linger at your aching cock. “I want to know what you feel and taste like on my tongue.”

Before you can respond, she lowers her head. “Mhmm~”

Her mouth closes around you slowly. Going beyond the tip this time. She takes you deeper, inch by inch, her tongue tracing the underside of your shaft as she descends. Wet heat and gentle suction and the sight of her. Those lips stretched around you, her dark eyes looking up through her lashes, watching your face break apart as she swallows the whole of you down.

“God.” The word forced out of you.

She pulls back just as slowly. Her tongue swirls over your head, dipping into the slit and you can feel yourself leaking endlessly onto her tongue. She hums and the vibration nearly sends you over the edge.

“Now, you taste like want,” she murmurs against your throbbing cock. “Like someone who’s forgotten what it feels like to be touched.”

She takes you again, much deeper. You feel the back of her throat, feel her swallow around you, and your hands fist in the sheets because you’re not allowed to touch her head. You know that without being told.

She sets a rhythm designed to devour you. Slow, deliberate strokes that build pressure without release. Every time you get close to the climax, every time you feel yourself teetering on the edge, she pulls back. Lets the sensation fade. Then starts again.

“Tsuki, please—”

“Please what?”

“I need—”

“I know what you need.” She releases you with a wet pop. Your cock bobs against your stomach, wet and covered with her saliva, aching. “But you haven’t earned it yet.”

She crawls up your body. Positions herself so she’s straddling you, her heat hovering just above your desperate erection. You can feel her. How wet she is, the slick of her cunt, evidence of her own arousal painting the head of your cock as she slowly shifts.

“Do you want it inside?” she asks.

“Yes.” The word comes out broken. “Please. God. Yes.”

She reaches down. Takes your length in her hand. Guides you until you’re pressed against her entrance. Wet, incredibly hot, the promise of her right there.

She doesn’t let you in.

Instead, she rocks. A slow, torturous grind that slides your cock through her folds, coating you in her arousal, the head catching against her clit on every pass. She shudders when it does. Small tremors that tell you she’s not as unaffected as she pretends.

“Feel that?” she whispers. “Feel how wet you make me?”

You can.

The slick glide of her against you. The heat that radiates from her. The way her lips part around your shaft without quite taking you in. Just barely. Everything you want, just out of reach.

“Let me,” you beg. Your hands find her hips, trying to pull her down. “Tsuki, please, let me—”

“No.”

She grinds harder. Your cock continues to slide through her silky folds, grazing against her clit, and she gasps. Unguarded. Her eyes flutter closed for just a second.

“Not tonight,” she manages. “Tonight you learn to want.”

“I already want—”

“Not like this.” She increases her pace. The friction is maddening. It’s driving you insane how slick and hot and so close you are to what you need. “Tonight you learn what it feels like to burn for something you can’t have.”

You’re going to come. You can feel your climax building. That inevitable pressure. Just from this. Just from the slide of her against you, the heat of her, the promise of a depth you’re not yet allowed to reach.

“Tsuki—I’m going to—”

She slows. Doesn’t lift away. Hovers. Her hand finds your jaw, turns your face toward hers.

“Tell me one thing first.”

Your brain is static. “What?”

“About yourself. Not what you did at Ishikawa. Not the career. Something true.”

You can’t think. You’ll say anything to get her to keep moving. The words come out before you decide to say them.

“I’ve been waiting for something like this. An excuse to start over. I just didn’t want it to cost me my career.”

Her almost-smile. Genuine, this time. Cracked through with something you can’t read.

“Good boy.”

She stops. Lifts herself away.

The loss of contact is physically painful. Your cock throbs against the cold air, slick and desperate. You make a sound that might be a sob, or at least close to one.

This is it. This is how you die. Not from career destruction or public humiliation, but from a gorgeous stranger edging you in a hotel room. The obituary page is going to be amazing.

“Shhhh.” She strokes your chest. Almost tender. “Breathe.”

“I can’t—”

“Yes you can. Breathe with me.”

You breathe. Ragged, broken, but you do it anyway. The urgency recedes. Barely. Just enough to keep you from spilling onto your own stomach.

“Good boy.” She rewards you by shifting back down, taking you in her mouth again. One slow stroke, base to tip, her tongue tracing the vein on the underside of your cock. Then she releases you.

“Want a taste?”

The words don’t register at first. Your brain is static. Especially after that last assault.

“What?”

“I want your mouth on me.” She moves up your body, positions herself over your face. “I want to feel your tongue inside me while you’re aching for what you can’t have.”

You look up at her. Her thighs frame your vision (you save this mental image into the deepest folds of your brain in high quality).

She’s glistening in the low city light, every wet inch of her catching the windowpane glow. Swollen and pink. Her scent hits you. Musky and sweet and intoxicating.

“Open your mouth,” she says.

You do. She lowers herself onto you.

The first taste of her is overwhelming. She’s hot against your tongue, slick and swollen, and when you trace the length of her slit, she shudders above you.

“That’s it,” she breathes. “Just like that.”

You eat her like she’s the first meal you’ve had in years. You learn the topography of her. Her soft luxurious folds, the hard pearl of her clit, the entrance that clenches when you press your tongue inside. She tastes like desire made physical. She feels like a sin you’re willing to commit.

Her hips rock against your face. Chasing your tongue, grinding down when you find the right spot. The sounds she makes are arriving faster now. 

“Your mouth,” she gasps. “God, your mouth.”

You focus on her clit. Gentle pressure, then more, reading her responses. When you suck, she cries out. You then flick your tongue in quick patterns, her thighs start to tremble.

You’re painfully hard beneath her: neglected, desperate, and somehow that makes this better. Your own need gets amplified with every sensation, every taste, every sound she lets out.

She’s close. Her movement doesn’t hide it well, the way her legs tighten around your head, her moans rising an octave higher, leaving her breathless.

Then she pulls away.

“No.” She’s panting now. Flushed. Her composure cracked but not broken. “No. That’s enough.”

“Let me finish—”

“No.” She climbs off you. Stands beside the bed. Trembling slightly, her voice is still steady. “That’s what tonight is about.”

You lie there, aching. Covered in the taste and scent of her. Your cock leaking with need.

“What is tonight about then?” Your voice sounds wrecked. You don’t care.

She looks at you. Something flickers in her eyes, almost like regret.

“Tonight is about you learning what you want,” she says. “And remembering that you’re still capable of wanting it.”

She reaches for her dress.

“What are you…” 

“That’s enough for tonight.” She pulls it on, covering all that perfect skin. “You did well Akihiro.”

“I didn’t-we didn’t-”

“No.” She looks at you over her shoulder. “We didn’t. That’s the point.”

You’re still hard, still aching, and still covered in her.

“Why?” you ask.

She walks back to the bed. Sits on the edge. Reaches out and traces a finger along your jaw. Gentle and almost affectionate.

“Because you came here to feel nothing,” she says. “And I wanted to show you that you can’t. That underneath all that careful numbness, there’s still something alive.”

“That’s…”

“Cruel? Maybe.” She leans in. Presses a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. Pulls back before you can deepen it. “But I think you needed cruelty tonight Akihiro. I think you needed someone to remind you that you’re not dead yet.”

You don’t have an answer. You just lie there while your eyes are glued to her; continue to taste her in your mouth.

She stands. And like a magic trick she produces a business card from somewhere and sets it on the nightstand.

“There’s a shower through here. Hot water. Good pressure. Help yourself. Feel free to make yourself at home.”

“Tsuki…”

“You’ll see me again.” She pauses at the door. That almost-smile playing on her lips. “The people who did this to you, Akihiro. They’re sleeping comfortably tonight. Doesn’t that bother you? Fight.”

Then she’s gone.

✦⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡

You stand in the shower for what feels like eternity. You let the water flow. The shower water is scalding, but you stay under it anyway. It reddens your skin. You let it sear away whatever the hell just happened. Because the moment you took her hand, you knew you were cooked.

You came here to feel nothing. She’d said that like she knew. Like she’d seen right through you from the moment she appeared.

She’s right.

You’d wanted oblivion. Bourbon and bad decisions and the emptiness that comes from surrendering control. Instead, she’d given you something worse: she’d made you feel. She made you reach for desire, and frustration, and something raw, and desperate that you’d been burying since Tanaka-san wouldn’t meet your eyes.

She’d forced you open, looked at what was inside, and walked away.

Your body still aches; arousal denied, muscles tensed for a release that never came. You can still taste her. That salty-sweet musk you’d swallowed like a man dying of thirst. You can still feel the spectral weight of her on your face, her thighs nestled against your cheeks.

You wrap your hand around yourself. The water beats down on your back. You stroke once, twice…

And stop.

It feels wrong, unfinished business that shouldn’t be finished alone. She’d denied you for a reason. You don’t understand the reason yet, but completing the act yourself feels like cheating. Like letting her down.

What the fuck is wrong with you?!

You turn off the water. Wrap a towel around your waist. Walk back into the room that still smells faintly of her. Wine and a looming presence of something darker.

The people who did this to you. They’re sleeping comfortably tonight.

The business card is still on the nightstand. Just a phone number. No name.

You pick it up. Turn it over. Nothing on the back.

Your phone is still off; you could turn it on. Finally face the music: all the unread messages, the missed calls, the reality waiting to tear you apart.

Instead, you lie down on the bed that still holds the ghost of her body. Close your eyes. Try to remember the exact taste of her lips. Replay all the stored images in your head.

You don’t sleep. But when the sun finally rises, pale and gray through the windows, you’re still thinking about her question.

Doesn’t that bother you?

Yes.

It fucking does.

✦⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡

Three days later

There’s a networking event at a hotel downtown. It’s a different hotel but the same species of desperation. Fifty people in business casual, circulating with drinks and business cards, pretending they’re not all acutely aware of who’s up and who’s down.

You’re down, you’re obviously at the gutter, and everyone by now knows it.

You can see it in how conversations pause when you approach, the slight stiffening of shoulders, the bright smiles that don’t reach anyone’s eyes. People you’ve known for years. All of them have discovered fascinating things to look at on the opposite side of the room.

Plague carrier. That’s what you are now. They brought back social distancing and you are patient zero.

Three days since Tsuki left you aching in that room. Three days of phone calls that go to voicemail, emails that don’t get responses, and the slow realization that your network; twelve years of carefully cultivated ‘relationships’, has been quarantined along with your career.

You’re on your second club soda. Trying to stay sharp, proving something to yourself. 

Then she appears.

She doesn’t approach. She just shows up, like she stepped out of the gap between one second and the next. One second the space beside you is empty. The next, she’s there.

“You look better than last time,” she says.

She looks different. Hair down loose curls. Off-shoulder black gown. She looks like she belongs, which means she definitely does not.

“How did you know I’d be here?”

“Mmhm. Lucky guess.” She plucks a canapé from a passing tray, looks at it, sets it back. “You’ve been busy. I saw you talking to that woman in white. And that startup founder, the one who still thinks ‘runway’ is something you build at an airport and ‘profit’ is a myth investors tell children at bedtime.”

You didn’t see her watching. You’re sure of that. You were scanning the room the whole time.

“Are you following me?”

“I’m helping you, Akihiro.” She nods toward a cluster of suits near the bar. “Blue tie. Kwon, Minjun. South Korean conglomerate money. He needs someone to handle a family restructuring, discreetly. The big firms won’t touch it. Lots of excuses: too complex and too messy and too many secrets.”

“And you know this how?”

“I’m Tsuki~ Also, people love talking and I am good at listening. People with a lot of secrets tend to be more chatty.” She’s already moving. “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

The conversation with Kwon takes around fifteen minutes. She does most of the work; positioning you as exactly what he needs, someone outside the system, someone who understands discretion. By the end, he’s asking for your card and suggesting lunch next week.

When you turn to thank her, she’s gone. You look for her.

You find her in a service corridor off the main hall. She’s leaning against a wall, arms crossed, watching you approach like she knew exactly how long it would take.

“He’s very much interested in you,” she says. “You’ll have the account by Friday.”

“You set that up. The whole thing.”

“I initiated the conversation. You performed, and you performed extremely well.” She tilts her head. “You’re welcome.”

“Why do you do these things for me? What do you want from me?”

“Right now? She glances down the corridor: not a single soul, empty, no cameras in sight. She bites her lower lip. “I want your mouth.”

“That’s a lot to ask for just an introduction.”

“Is it?” She steps closer. “Fifteen minutes with the Kwon Minjun. A man who doesn’t take meetings with anyone below C-suite. I got you that with a smile and my pretty face.” Her fingers find your tie, straightens it. “My price seems pretty…reasonable.”

“And if I want to negotiate?”

“You’re not in the position to negotiate, Aki-kun. I have the upperhand here.” She says it like she’s explaining basic arithmetics. “You need clients and I just handed you one. The question isn’t whether you’ll pay. It’s whether you’ll do it well enough that I keep helping you.”

“And if I do it well?”

“Then maybe I’ll tell you something more about myself.” Her almost-smile. “After.”

“Before.”

“After, Akihiro-kun. Or never.”

You consider the corridor. The networking event you’re supposed to be attending. Her eyes that just lures you in the abyss of bad decisions.

While she watches you decide, she slowly lifts her arm; points toward the floor between her heels.

“On your knees, Akihiro-kun.” Her smile sharpens. “Let’s see how thorough you can be.”

The tile is cold and dirty and hard. You don’t care. She's gathering the tulle in one fist and hiking the gown up slowly, watching your face, enjoying the way your eyes track every inch of exposed thigh.

“You’ve been thinking about this,” she says. “How I taste. These past three days, lying in your bed, remembering how wet I was on your tongue.”

“Yes.”

“Good.” She hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her underwear. Black lace, barely there. She slides them down her thighs, steps out of them, tucks them into your jacket pocket. “Something to remember me by.”

Tulle bunched at her hips. She's bare underneath. Pink and glistening and close enough that you can smell her arousal. Your mouth waters.

“Look at you,” she murmurs. “So eager. So thirsty.” She traces a finger along your jaw. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to taste you.”

“Be more specific. Let it all out Aki-kun.”

“I want to lick your pussy until you cum on my face.”

The words come out before your brain can veto them. God, what’s wrong with you?!

Tsuki shivers just slightly. A crack in that perfect composure she’s trying so hard to maintain.

Okay. Dirty talk does work. Good to know.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

You lean in. Press your eager lips to her inner thigh. She inhales sharply.

“Tease,” she breathes.

“I learned from the best.”

You take your time. Kissing up one thigh, then the other. Letting your breath ghost over where she wants you, never quite touching. She makes a frustrated sound, and her fingers find your hair.

“Akihiro…”

“You made me wait three days.” You’re so close now. You can see how wet she is, pink, glistening, slick and swollen, practically dripping. “You can wait three minutes.”

“I don’t…” She gasps as your tongue finally touches her. Just once. A slow, flat stroke from her entrance to her clit. “Fuck.”

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t like waiting.”

“You do now.”

You lick her again: Slower. Savoring. She tastes just like you remembered. Her hips buck toward your mouth, but you pull back enough to deny her the pressure she wants.

“You’re getting brave,” she manages.

“I’m getting even.”

You seal your lips around her clit and suck. She cries out. Loud. Extremely loud for a service corridor. It echoes over the length of it. Then her hand slaps over her mouth.

“Quiet,” you murmur against her. “Someone might hear.”

“You bastard.”

You slide two fingers inside her. She’s soaked, clenching around you immediately, her whole body jerking at the intrusion.

“God, you’re so wet.” You curl your fingers, searching. “You’ve been thinking about this too. Haven’t you?”

She doesn’t answer. Her thighs are shaking.

“Haven’t you?”

“Yes.” It comes out broken. “Yes, I-there, right there, don’t stop-”

You don’t stop. You finger fuck her and lick her clit in tight circles, the same rhythm, relentless. She’s grinding against your face now, chasing it, all the composure slowly but surely crumbling.

“You’re going to cum,” you tell her. “Right here in this hallway. Anyone could walk in. Anyone could see you like this. Gown around your hips, fucking yourself on my tongue.”

“Akihiro…”

“Now. Cum for me.”

She breaks.

Her whole body seizes, cunt clamping down on your fingers, thighs squeezing your head, the sound she makes is muffled by her hand but you can still hear it; raw, desperate, nothing like the controlled woman who manifested into that bar four days ago.

You work her through it. Slower now, gentler, drawing out every aftershock. She shudders repeatedly and you don’t pull away until she pushes at your shoulders.

“Enough.” She’s panting. Flushed. Her legs are visibly unsteady. “Enough.”

You sit back on your heels. Wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. Your fingers are still drenched with her.

“Was that thorough enough?” you ask.

She stares at you. For a long moment, she doesn’t say anything. Just breathes. Then that smile returns, slower this time.

“You’re learning.”

She pushes off the wall. Smooths the gown back into place. Her legs are still trembling slightly, and the knowledge that you did that, that you made her shake, sends a hot pulse of satisfaction through you.

You’re achingly hard. She can see the visual outline of you straining against your slacks.

“What about…”

“No.” She’s composing herself. Running her fingers through her hair. “Not yet.”

“Tsuki.”

“You made me cum.” She steps closer. Looks down at the bulge in your pants. Presses her palm against it, just once, firm and fleeting. You make a strangled sound. “That’s more than most people get. Be grateful.”

“I want—”

“I know what you want.” She leans in. Her lips brush your ear. “You want to bend me over and fuck me until I scream. You want to fill me up and watch it drip out of me. You want to make me as desperate as you’ve been for the past four days.”

“Yes.”

“Mhmm.” She pulls back. Straightens your jacket. Her underwear is still in your pocket, damp against your chest. “Not yet.”

“When?”

“When I decide.” That smile again; dangerous and promising. “Now go back to the party. Smile at Kwon. Think about how good I tasted while you shake hands and make small talk.”

She’s walking away before you can respond.

You stand. Adjust your jacket. Fix yourself until you’re presentable before walking back to the party. Take a couple of seconds to breathe.

Her underwear is still in your pocket. You should do something about that. Put it somewhere. Throw it away. Anything other than keeping it like some kind of pervert trophy.

You don’t do anything about it, just transfer it inside the pocket lining of your jacket.

You enter the venue. Kwon catches your eye across the room. Raises his glass. You nod back and approach him.

Your phone buzzes.

Hinode-san. I’ve reached out a couple of times now. I understand you’ve signed an NDA. I’m not asking about Ishikawa this time. I’m inquiring about something else. Call when you’re ready.

You stare at the message. Something else. You don’t know what that means. The journalist’s byline was on the Polaris coverage last year (she totally fucked them up). The Bloomberg interview with the Blockberry whistleblower. Her pieces have a way of turning into criminal indictments.

You don’t answer.

Your phone buzzes again. Different number. Unknown with a weird handle.

般若: The Kwon family charity gala is Saturday. The daughter manages their venture fund. She’ll be looking for someone like you.

般若: Wear your navy suit. It fits you better than that gloomy excuse you have on.

You look around the room. She’s nowhere. Another buzz.

般若: You looked like you’re starting to believe in yourself

般若: I like that.

般若: Sleep well tonight, Akihiro-kun. You’ll need the energy.

You stare at the screen. The navy suit. She’s never seen your closet. She’s never been to your apartment.

You should be frightened. You should be calling the police, or a psychiatrist, or anyone who can explain how a woman you met a few days ago knows what suits you own.

Instead, you’re thinking about the sound she made when she came. The way her control cracked. The three seconds where she was just a woman shaking against your mouth.

You place your phone in your pocket.

You don’t sleep well that night. But when you close your eyes, you’re not thinking about the Kwon family, or your ruined career.

You’re thinking about her. You think about what she said.

The people who did this to you. They’re comfortable. Fight.

✦⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡

A/N: So, you finally finished the first act. Good boy. How did you like it? How did you like me? You and I have more time together in the upcoming chapters; Bunn just needs a little convincing to write it faster. Leave a comment so he knows you want what's next. A like, a follow, a reprose. All of it fuels him like how Akihiro—(clears throat.) Like how it also fuels me. Reviews and suggestions welcome. I'd be very disappointed if you held them back from me. I'll see you in the next chapter reader-san~ -般若

[starconstruction]

fanprose works

realistically all of these would flop on tumblr so, come over, please comment i need the photocard rolls

Yeojin Ghost Comedy (1k) words

Tsuki Demon Smut (1k) words

Nameless, Asterism, Morse Code

Heeyeon, Heejin, Hyunjin Vampire (1k) words

Gahyun (Lee Seoyul) Text Fic

Gowon BFH (with @bunnsfw)

Sullyoon x Yves (with @prael)

Yena Prompt

some of my old deleted work is also there, because why not.

Jinsoul Yandere

Liz Yandere

Yena Rain

[fuckkkkkklol]

TURiSTA // ft. LE SSERAFIM's Kim Chaewon

LE SSERAFIM’s Kim Chaewon x m!reader, word count: 1010

for @mysonesecret's "A Thousand Words" challenge.

A/N: i was hoping to finish my other existing drafts before i posted this, but alas.

read on fanprose:

TURiSTA

in chaewon's life, you're merely a tourist based on the song by bad bunny — by miggy

It’d probably happened somewhere between your fourth drink and the second volleyball game with her friends. You’re still not quite sure. Whatever it was, you’d said the wrong thing, and Kim Chaewon’s face had hardened into stone, and she excused herself from her own home without a word to you.

“Where are you going? Can you at least talk to me?” You follow a few steps behind her, your paths tracing the shoreline.

Chaewon marches on, feet digging into the wet sand on the surf of the beach. The sound of your voice only spurs her on, picking up the pace to widen the distance between you.

“Chaewon, come on,” you plead with her. “My flight’s in the morning. Do you really want to end it like this?”

At that, she stops abruptly, and you catch yourself just short of toppling into her tiny frame. Hands balled into tight fists, the skirt of her white dress billowing in the breeze, her shoulders hunch, tensed like a string ready to snap.

A beat, and then she whirls around, facing you.

“Why the hell not?” she spits accusingly. Her eyes are rimmed with red, though from hurt or anger, you can’t tell. “Why am I always the one adjusting to you? Making things more comfortable for you?”

You blink like she’s just slapped you in the face. “What?”

“You just come here, stay in my house, drop into my life, and I’m the one that’s not allowed to be angry?” She’s breathing heavily now, every word laced with venom and spilling from her lips faster than the one before, like she’s been holding them in since the day you arrived. “You come here, you charm my mom, you bond with my friends, you get to treat my life like some shiny fucking tourist attraction, and then you just get to leave. And I can’t be upset?”

“Chaewon—”

“How is that fair?”

“Chaewon,” you say, dumbly. Your hand falters halfway to her face before returning uselessly to your side. “This was my vacation. I have a life, work, responsibilities waiting for me back home. You—”

Struggling to find any of the right words, you breathe deeply, hands on your waist. Your eyes fixate on her old, worn-out sandals, and her scraped-up feet, caked in wet sand.

“I thought you knew that.”

Chaewon lets out a short, bitter laugh, face falling forwards into her hands.

“See? That’s exactly what I mean.” Her voice thickens, like she’s just come to some disappointing realization about you, and is still trying to accept it. She meets your eyes again with a sad smile. “This is all just a vacation for you. An escape. You get to drive down the coast and visit markets and dance in festivals, get drunk off your ass with my family, and whatever the hell else you want to do. But for me, this is my whole life. This town, the house, the bills, the debt: those are my responsibilities. Except I don’t get to run away from it. I don’t get an escape. But that—that’s okay. You’re right. That’s what you came here for. And I knew that.”

You’re stunned. Chaewon gives you one last smile and leaves you standing there on the surf. You watch her retreating figure for far too long, wondering how you missed it.

---

You find her behind her house later that night, sitting on the sand and hugging her knees close to her chest. She barely spares you a glance as you settle on the ground next to her, stretching your legs.

Far from any overpopulated cities, the midnight sky is filled with the twinkling lights of the constellations, and more stars than you’ve ever seen in your life. The moon hangs high, reflected over the rippling waves in front of you.

“I heard you in the kitchen the other day, you know.” 

You turn to look at Chaewon, waiting expectantly. 

“With my mom,” she clarifies.

You hum in understanding. “When she asked me if I’d ever live in a town like this?”

She nods, mutely. “Do you remember what you said?”

You sigh and think back, leaning on the heels of your palms and tilting your head up to the moon. “I said that I’d love to. It’s a beautiful place. It’s so peaceful, and I love the people here.”

“Mmm.” The silence stretches on, filled with the soft sounds of waves cresting on the shore, and broken again by Chaewon. “Do you remember what else she said?”

“Oh,” you trail off, heat rising quickly to your cheeks at the memory. “She, um. She said that we looked like a good match.”

She chuckles. “I wonder where she got that idea from.”

You snort, turning away as your face burns. 

The night settles again, the quiet settling into something that feels too much like finality for your liking. There’s so much you wish you could say to her, but how much of it would be empty words? What can you promise her, really?

“You came here, turned my life upside down, made me—” Her voice is thin, fragile. Like at any moment, she might crumble in front of you. “You made me feel this way, made me want more from you, and you just get to go home after. You don’t have to deal with the hole it leaves.”

“You know I don’t want to leave, Chaewon,” you say like it matters, as if that knowledge would soften the blow somehow.

She turns to you, wordlessly, and just smiles at you. Her eyes glimmer.

“This won’t be the last time. I’ll come back,” you try, uselessly.

With nothing more to say, you both look out to the endless ocean ahead, and the moon and stars above. You’ve truly never seen a more beautiful sky.

“We had a good time together,” she says softly, offering you one last, fragile smile.

“Yeah.” Your lips turn up in your own sad smile. A silent apology for all the things you can’t give her. “We really did.”

---

A/N: no beta no proofreading we rawdog this like it's the beauty shrine on fanprose.

daghang salamat sa akong asawa para sa tanan niyang pagsuporta ug pagpalangga sa akoa. ti amo tanto tanto tanto, luce mia.

hope you all enjoyed. any feedback is appreciated <33

[bunnsfw]

ᘏᘏ thirsty bunn thursdays male reader x magenta (qwer) ※ more of my works on fanprose

“Oppa~ stop being weird.” She’s on the cabin bed, propped up on her elbows, the wedding dress shoved up to her hips. Her heels are still on. Her hand is between her soft milky thighs, and it’s been there since you carried her in. The veil is haphazardly thrown on the floor by the front door, the bouquet is a mess next to it. The dress is soaked wet under her. “Come here immediately~”

You haven’t moved from the door.

“You keep saying that but you also just said I’m not allowed to come over there.”

“Did I really say that?” Her mouth forms a pout meant to destroy you.

“You said ‘don’t come over here until I tell you,’ which is, you know, the same thing.”

“Mhmmm.” She wrinkles her nose. “But that was at the chapel, babe.”

“That was half an hour ago.”

“And? Time flies when you’re trying to seduce your husband.”

Her hips lift a little. The wet sound is very faint and very specific. You think about closing your eyes but you decide not to.

“Oppa~”

“Yes, my wife?”

“You should see what I’m going to do to you tonight.” Her smile widens. “I’m going to make you put it in me so many times the cabin’s gonna get a noise complaint.”

“From who? The roaming wildlife outside? The deer? There’s no one out there.”

“Seems like you’ve thought about this.”

“I’ve thought about this all day, babe. Even while the officiant was talking.”

“Romantic.”

“Mhmm.” Her fingers move faster. “Come closer.”

You take three steps. The floorboards creak. She immediately lifts her right foot, heel still on, and tips it forward into the air toward you.

“Nope nope nope nope.”

You stop.

“Baby—”

“Did I say you could come that close?” She pouts. That pout again. The cutest thing in the world and it’s yours now. “I said come closer. Not, like, all the way.”

“Magenta.”

“Don’t ‘Magenta’ me.” She nudges the air with her heel and you take a small step back. “There. Stay.”

“This is my cabin too. I’m on the rental agreement.”

“It’s our cabin, Oppa, and on our cabin’s rental agreement I am the boss until I say I’m not. I’m pretty sure it’s clause four.”

“That doesn’t exist, babe.”

“There absolutely is. I added it just now.” Her hand still hasn’t stopped. “Stop arguing. I’m trying to be horny here.”

“You know what I’m thinking about right now?”

“Mhmm.” She tilts her head. “Tell me.”

“I’m thinking about how fast I can get this dress off you and how much of me I can put inside you before midnight.”

Her hand stutters.

“Oppa.”

“What?”

“You can’t just say things like that.” She bites her lip. “I’m going to lose.”

“Lose what?”

“The game. The waiting game. Where I make you wait. All. Night. Long~”

You unbuckle, unzip, take yourself out. You hear her inhale and you wait. She is staring. Her hand has slowed down. Her foot is still up in the air between you, holding the line.

“Okay that’s not fair.”

“You started it, baby.”

“I know I started it but you can’t just bring your cock out, like, that and expect me to keep my composure.”

“You’re going to cum in about thirty seconds.”

“How dare you.” But her hand is moving faster again. “Take that back, baby. I have so much stamina, yknow~.”

“You’re slurring your words now, baby. You’re losing your mind.”

“Oppa~”

“What.”

“Just shut up and let me cum.”

She bites her bottom lip hard and her hand moves faster and her thighs start to shake and the heel still pointed at you starts wobbling in the air. The bodice of the dress slips off one shoulder. She doesn’t notice. Her hair sticks to her forehead.

“Oppa—oh god, oppa, oppa I’m—”

She cums with her foot still half-raised between you and a moan she’d never make on a normal day. Her thighs clamp around her own hand. The heel finally drops to the duvet. Her toes curl inside it.

She doesn’t move for a moment.

“Oppa~”

“Yes, my wife?”

“I take it back.”

“Take what back?”

“All of it.” Her voice has gone soft. Wet. She’s still breathing hard. “Please come here.”

“You sure, baby?”

“Please. Please. Please. I want it now. I want to still feel it tomorrow. Please please please come breed me, oppa, now, please—”

You’ve never undressed yourself faster.

comment an idol you'd want featured on thirsty bunn thursdays and I'll feature them in the next installment. thirsty bunn thursdays are now also on fanprose.

[prael]

Precipice

For @mysonesecret's challenge on Fanprose!

NMIXX Sullyoon x TWICE Sana

words: 1.1k Masterlist

Read it on Fanprose! Follow me on Fanprose!

It was supposed to be the day everything changed, and while that’s not strictly incorrect, it’s hardly the heart-made-whole fluffy fanfiction that Sullyoon had authored in her mind. Sana was - still is - the girl from the TV. The woman from the posters, the music videos and the viral social media posts.

Your favourite idol’s favourite idol.

What she became for Sullyoon was comfort, laughter and a guiding hand. What she is now is, well, we’ll get to that.

It’s the hope that really did it. From the first day they met, crossing paths outside a practice room, where Sullyoon bent the full ninety to be met by Sana’s little dip of her head, partnered with her bright smile and greeting, that had her heartstrings tangled. They spoke in brief, barely an introduction, but it was enough.

Then they had her sit in, and Sullyoon danced until her feet grew sore, and Sana grinned and gave her a thumbs up, and in those brief moments, Sullyoon could never regret her career choice. When it was over, somewhere between Sana's muted appreciation and Sullyoon's gushing gratitude, Sana made an offer. Practice together, the two of them.

Sullyoon agreed, of course. She agreed to everything.

The warnings, the advice, the rumours. So what if a younger girl liked an older girl? So what if Sana was her senior? Sullyoon was - is - windswept.

So when the idea of coffee before practice came at Sana's suggestion, Sullyoon was up an hour earlier than usual. She had her hair in rollers, and she sat at her vanity. She tapped the brush across her skin and dotted the concealer. She took her time with everything. From curling her eyelashes to applying her lipstick, it was wholly methodical. She wanted to look good, but that was a given. It was more than that; she wanted to look like Sana's type.

She picked a simple outfit, skin-tight jeans, a cropped camisole and a light cardigan. It wasn’t the first choice, nor was it the second. In fact, it was around the fourth swap that Sullyoon looked at herself in the mirror and began to judge the woman staring back. It’s coffee. Just little beans ground down and brewed into a drink to start the day before practice. Practice that would inevitably require a change of clothes anyway, so why did this matter so much? 

Sana - that’s why.

The coffee date (could Sullyoon call it that?) passed by all too quickly, but it opened the metaphorical door. No longer did they only talk about dancing and comebacks and vocal tones and aegyo and… - yeah, you get the picture - but they talked about each other. Favourite snacks, drinks, and places to visit. Sana would appease everything Sullyoon threw out.

That park that Sullyoon loved to visit? They met there the following Monday and walked around for a little while.

The movie that Sullyoon loved? Well, Sana didn’t watch it, but she read the reviews and pretended that she had.

The games that Sullyoon loved to play? Sana bought a switch. Yep, a switch, just to play with Sullyoon.

And look, Sana had absolutely no idea what she was doing. She followed Sullyoon around - once she finally understood the controls - and did everything she said she should do. By the end of the first day, Sana had a hole in the ground, and Sullyoon had a house. They didn’t get a lot of time outside of schedules, but they would play when they could. Sana’s hole in the ground got a little bit nicer as Sullyoon decorated it and built around it to keep it safe.

In the lamp-light-clashing-moonlight glow of her room, Sullyoon pondered it all. Sana took her where she wanted to go, bought her the things she wanted to own, read her favourite books and watched her favourite movies. Sana bought a switch just for her. All these gestures paled in comparison to the little things she noticed.

Like how Sana would accidentally brush her hand and then smile as if nothing happened, how she would make these little jokes that share just a little bit too much detail about her sex life, and how she would constantly invite Sullyoon over to spend the night.

Empty pizza boxes accompanied empty bottles. Flirty jokes accompanied Sullyoon falling head-over-heels. She was falling - faster and harder than anything had ever fallen. Barrelling towards a reality that had begun to form in her head, Sullyoon pictured the future. It would be tough, keeping the secret, but they could do it, Sullyoon was sure. 

Sana had experience; Sullyoon would come to learn. Her relationships with her many friends in the industry, from Momo to Miyeon and everyone in between. Not that Sullyoon was jealous, no, not openly. That only reared its head on those nights alone in her room, pondering possibilities.

Then came the day everything changed. The casual-flirty jokes became not-so-casual-flirty jokes, and all of Sullyoon’s favourite things became tools of the evening. Her favourite snacks, drinks, movies, everything - all at once. The longing looks became long looks. Sana flicked a switch, and Sullyoon crumbled. Putty in her hands.

They slept together that night. Sana had all these things she liked to do, and Sullyoon had a body she wanted to do them all too. The kisses never seemed to end, from chaste to an outright dissolution of decorum. The touches trailed to the ends of Sullyoon’s world - all this caressing and grabbing and tugging and fuck -

Yeah, it was perfect. Sullyoon wept after it all. An emotional cooking pot boiled over in the post-coital serenity - in Sana’s arms. She confessed it all to her in that raw state: how she fell in love with her before she ever even met her. How the feelings only became cemented upon seeing that smile in real life, and how every single domino that fell following that had led her to this precipice.

And on that precipice, she stood. She stood still for a long time. 

Sullyoon would load up her Minecraft world from time to time, build a little more around that hole, waiting for her to come back. She drank more coffee, wandered around the parks, and practised harder than ever before. Sana would show up again and invite her over. Food. Drinks. Great sex. Precipice. Waiting. Hope.

Sana’s phone would flash with Miyeon’s picture, or someone else’s, all the time. Things would go quiet. No dates. No movies. No feelings. Then she would return to do it all over again.

For Sana, it is a loop, and for Sullyoon, it is a spiral. 

When that inevitable text arrives, it is so seemingly harmless - just a half-step away from an invitation to another night together. Another opportunity to touch the clouds, only to plummet back to earth. Falling in love - what a prescient turn of phrase.

[defmaybe]

teeth

minju! x reader

2.4k words

"You're the first solar that I've ever talked to, actually."

"I'm honored. Am I gonna be interviewed now?"

"Only if you want."

It's Friday, and this rooftop bar feels good at night. The fact that there's no sun to set your skin ablaze certainly does help. There is chatter happening behind the two of you, though you're not swayed from this ethereal woman standing in front of you. Her hair is a gorgeous black, with her pointy ears poking out on the sides.

"You can ask — ice-breaking and all."

"What if I say something offensive?"

"I'll tell you."

Her eyes are cute. They're alternating between yours and the amber-tinted drink in her hand. The crop top leaves her toned midriff exposed to the summer night, and the jeans outline her legs well. You feel a bit despondent about your outfit choice tonight — a basic black long sleeves, a pair of cargo pants — but it's like the fashion for men is diverse.

"What are you working on right now?" Minju asks.

"It's a website — another website. It looks different from the last one, but I see nothing because I work on the backend," and you shrug. "I thought you'd be more personal with the questions."

Minju chuckles. You notice her ears twitching slightly. "I'm more vulgar than offensive, actually."

You raise your eyebrows a bit, but there's also this curiosity to gamble on her next words. Alas, she's pretty enough for you to tolerate her questions. "Morbid curiosity — how vulgar are we talking?"

Minju downs the drink suddenly — probably about eclipsing that shyness. She makes an almost painful expression as a result of whatever is going on in her esophagus.

"So," and it's almost a squeal from Minju, "when you give a blowjob, blood is flowing to your partner's dick, right? Have you ever had the urge to, like, bite into it and suck the blood out with your fangs?"

You blink, and there's almost a gasp leaving your mouth. "That was simultaneously vulgar and offensive."

Minju gives you an awkward smile. "Yeah, sorry, I'll see myself out now." She takes a step backward, so ready to leave you alone tonight.

"I can't answer that because I've never sucked a dick," and you smile, stopping her departure. "I guess I could ask you something filthy too?"

"Oh," and Minju tilts her head a little. "If you wanna make it even, sure."

"Alright." You take a deep breath, almost not believing the words that are about to come out of your mouth. "Have you ever gotten your dick sucked by a vampire?"

—

Minju's room is basic, to be honest. She doesn't seem to be the decorative type, aside from her family photo and a few Ikea plushies supporting her back right now. You notice her headphones having bigger ear cushions than yours. It helps with prolonged use to not have her ears folded and ruin their shapes.

"How the fuck am I going to tell the doctor if you actually bite into my dick?" and Minju laughs. Her hand is ruffling your hair tenderly as you kiss the tip of her cock continuously. It's twitching against your lips. Her hard nipples are visible under the crop top.

"Snakebite on the toilet?" you joke back, only to realize that the situation is actually possible. You've heard one of your friends having a snake slithering through the pipe before.

Minju lets out another chuckle. "That works, I guess."

"I wore braces back in high school, if that helps," you tell her with your mouth still warming her tip. "Was a pain to get rid of the blood after drinking though."

"Lucky that you didn't suck dicks back then."

"At least cum blends in with the color of my teeth?"

Minju ponders your words for a bit as you slide your hand on her cock languidly. She throbs in your palm with a consistent rhythm, with your warm breath over her skin. "It's too dark and I'm too drunk to see your teeth, so I'll believe that they're seminal white."

You just laugh heartily before wrapping your lips around Minju's shaft again. She moans quietly at the pillowy sensation of you, grasping your hair a tad tighter. You let your tongue lap the underside of her in your mouth. Her woody perfume fills your nostrils along with the slight sweat from your walk back together.

"Wow, fuck, you're good," Minju whines, putting force into the back of your head harsher than before. You force yourself down her cock further until she begins to probe the back of your throat. There are these gagging and retching sounds coming from your neck, and you just keep pushing until your lips touch her pubic bone.

Your eyes become all teary from the struggle against Minju's cock nudging your pharynx — just a few millimeters past your uvula. Regardless of the discomfort, you slide your tongue all over her length, lathering your spit and leaking drool all over. Minju just moans shamelessly, letting her voice echo inside her medium-sized apartment. Let's hope her neighbors work at night.

You decide to pull back a bit eventually, having your lips dragged along her foreskin and prompting louder groans from Minju. Then, you push back in, and it just becomes a wet loop between your fangy mouth and her shaven cock. There's utterly zero desire to sink your fangs into her skin and suck the blood out of her. It's not really a crime — an accident between a vampire's mouth and a person — but you'd rather drink her cum right now.

"Fuck," Minju rasps, mind all scattered and starting to control the pace of your head with her hand. Her hips are thrusting up into your mouth instinctively as well, jabbing your throat in a repeated motion. You're choking and struggling to breathe, obviously. But her elated expression — watched through these tears — it's giving you the energy to make Minju pump her seed into you.

There are some risks associated with getting a blowjob from an individual with fangs, of course, but there's also the thrill of the danger of your sharpness teasing her foreskin like this. Moreover, despite all the technologies, it's still a rare occurrence to get into this situation — getting a vampiric blowjob as a non-vampiric person. You haven't met many solar folks in this city since your graduation. Park Minju is getting one of the unique heads of her life here.

"Hey, hey, can I try something with you?" and Minju loosens her hold on the back of your head.

You get off her cock for an inquiry, and there's your drool all over. "What is it?"

"Can I take a photo?" Minju asks with a toothy smile, and you're nervous, to be honest. It's definitely weird to have yourself photographed by someone you just met, especially when you're sucking their cock.

Minju knows the weight of the situation, however, and she continues, "It's a polaroid, and I'll give it to you."

You blink, still unsure of the ins and outs of the situation. "A picture of me sucking your dick?"

"A picture of us!" Minju persuades. "You appear in a polaroid, right?"

"I appear on my iPhone camera, so I guess so? Why would you wanna do this, though? You get nothing here."

"I'm a photographer at heart," Minju says with a smile. "I'd be one if I'm not in healthcare."

You smile as well. "Do I have to pose?"

—

You lying down on your back really makes her cock hitting awfully deep inside your throat.

"Place your hand on your neck," Minju instructs, also gently bringing your hand there as well. Her palm is soft against the back of your fingers. "Feel me."

The sensation is overwhelming — her perfume and sweat, her girth, her face through your tears. You're shaking and choking on her cock desperately, though you're doing nothing — thigh squeeze to abort — to stop her from ravaging your body like this.

Minju pushes herself deep into you. And when your hand is on your own neck, you can feel it being stretched by her length. She's stealing your air, and you're more than ecstatic to let her do that. Under her hand, you're touching the bulge from Minju's cock.

"Tell me if it's too much."

You give her just a weak smile — something close to it. You can still breathe at half capacity, and she's gorgeous enough for her dick to earn a place inside you. Her hand trembles on top of yours, and you know she's reveling in this as much as you are.

She reaches for the polaroid camera sitting beside you on her bed, eventually. Her dexterity is to be admired — her hardness in your throat, one hand on your neck, the other hand holding a camera. She messes with the device a bit before lifting it up high. You're both going into this photo.

"This should work," Minju says, not moving her hips by a single bit. Her cock is still putting your throat to work here. She looks away from you — aesthetic reasons — and you see a flash coming from the camera.

The device cries softly as it prints out the image. Minju drags herself out of your throat, letting you bask in the ridges and veins on her cock. Your spit falls down to the floor, and it's a goddamn mess down there. Her dick glistens against the coppery light from her bedside lamp. And with her beauty, they just complement each other perfectly.

"I'll put it here," Minju states, and she places the photo on the bedside table. "Don't forget to take it when you're leaving!"

"Sure," you respond weakly, hand still finding the missing bump in your throat subconsciously. "You should fuck me again now, though."

Minju giggles happily. "Do you want some fuckery with that as well?"

"What kind of fuckery?" and you tilt your head. It's a weird angle upside down, but you think she gets the sentiment.

Minju grins, and she slides the tip of her cock on your lips. You open your mouth. She's making a bulge inside you again in a heartbeat.

This time, however, it's a tad fancier.

You feel her shaft getting warmer. It feels like drinking a mushroom soup that has been out of the pot for a minute. At one point, you're afraid that she's going to set your throat ablaze with her cock, but the temperature stabilizes at a comfortable level for you.

"My friend taught me this in college. They just told me how to do it with my fingers, but I also messed around with it a bit."

You only see her balls glowing in a yellowish shade, but you figure that the entire organ is probably shining. Your hand hovers over your neck, and there's some light glowing out of you.

"I think it's visually sexy," Minju says sultrily. "Seeing my fat cock doing wonders to your throat."

You hum back as a response, trying to make it sound like you're satisfied with the act.

"Thanks," and Minju giggles. "Elves just don't have that much power for magic. This is probably the best I could do."

You pick up the camera beside you and hand it to her. There's a desire to see how your throat is faring with Minju nestling and glowing inside it. To be captured in a piece of film invokes something within you, it seems.

"One, two, three!"

The device cries softly again as it prints the image out slowly. Minju stashes it along with the first photo, and the proper fucking in your throat resumes.

Minju slides her cock in and out of your mouth, and you're helplessly drooling all over her floor. You shudder every time she hilts inside you, yet you don't attempt a single thigh squeeze to halt her rough movements. She moans and grunts above you almost ferociously. There's a flash in your mind of her deep voice being attractive.

Your hand feels your own throat getting bulged repeatedly in a punishing fashion. The light is still there, and you're pretty sure that Minju is feasting at the sight of her luminous hardness stretching you open. You're going to have the remnant in your cabinet soon as well.

"Your fangs grazing my cock, God — such an anatomy hazard."

Minju keeps her pace consistent, using your throat to drive herself towards the precipice. Her cock throbs and pulses inside you violently, so eager to feed you her sperm. She places a hand on your throat along with yours, finding the heat scorching under your skin.

You feel a spurt of liquid inside you, finally, accompanied by a guttural groan from Minju. She gushes cum down your esophagus carelessly, and you don't even get to taste her on your tongue. It's a forceful feeding — one you're too happy to decline. Her whole body thrashes against your lips, and she twitches countless times before coming down from the unbelievable high.

Minju breathes exhaustedly as her cock softens in your mouth, turning back into a flaccid state. You lap the remnants of her semen leaking from her slit. It's a small sample, but you give feedback regardless.

"Yum."

Minju chuckles above you while pulling herself out of your orifice. She kneels in front of you, and she's just that pretty even when you're upside down.

"It's just pineapples," Minju whispers.

"I don't think it's a seasonal fruit."

"You want more? Are we doing this again?" and Minju laughs, fondling your cheek tenderly.

"I know I'm drunk as fuck," and a feeble cough, "but definitely, maybe."

—

"I can't go home when the sun's up," you whine, shifting in Minju's bed under the blanket. "I'll disintegrate."

"You wanna be dicked down again, I see," and Minju giggles under her blanket as well. Her ears are twitching slightly. "I don't have blood in the fridge for you, though. Didn't expect to fuck a vampire at my place."

"I could just order it," you breeze. "And thanks for letting me stay and, well, that."

Minju smiles warmly. "You're welcome. I still wonder one thing, though."

"What is it?"

"If I fuck you in front of a mirror — any holes — and I cum inside you, will it look like my cum is floating in the air?"

[jmuns-kpop]

Chaeyoung's Boy (Champions, Part 1)

~Twice's Chaeyoung (x Male Reader), ft. many other idols, 5.6k words, Champions Part 1

Read it on Fanprose

A/N:

Guys, I think this one really brought my passion back for writing. It is also HEAVILY inspired by the new treehouse feature Fanprose just released.

This one is kind of an action packed SAUSAGE FEST in the beginning, but hopefully the short smut scene will appease some of you gooners (yes, I'm talking to YOU!)

Big thanks to both @xantithesis and @iuchamjohta for ideating with me.

And HUGE thank you to one of my favourite people on tumblr @azelfty, for making this a whole lot more legible. Thank you.

The dark hall was grand, as if it knew of the upcoming battle.

"Swan?" The man in the center of the hall asked as a second appeared next to him, landing softly.

"Yep," He confirmed with a plop. "They're here."

"Who's they?"

"Everyone. Jennie's— fucking coward. Lisa's. Even Jungkook's champion is here."

"I'm getting old," The first man said, eyes glowing neon magenta as he manifested a sickle and chain, spray painted with flashes of vibrant artistry. "But they're gonna need a lot more than that."

A little more graceful, a little more collected, the second man emerged a spear, long golden handle and shining silver tip in that same glowing magenta light. "There's more. Irene's boy is here too." His voice wavered.

"Irene's boy? I thought— I liked him."

"Well, when you're on top," he concluded, fear in his voice gone. Or hidden, at least. The pair looked around in the hall, nearly devoid of light as their eyes flicked to the dark figures waiting in the shadows. "That's not it. Even 4th and 5th gens. Too many to name. They're trying to tip the balance."

The first man rolled his shoulder, loosening it. "You scared?"

"No. We're Twice's boys."

The first man chuckled softly. "The girls, where are they? They performing?"

"Yeah. They'll be fine."

The dark figures surrounding them too briefly flashed with light, some purple, some pink, too many to count.

"The rest are on their way?"

"I think it's too late for that." The pair shared one last aching look at each other. "It was an honour."

The first man nodded, before loosing his chain and sickle.

---

Later that night, as the lights shined down upon Twice as they sang and danced, somewhere far away from Korea, a pang in Mina and Chaeyoung's heart shook them to their core. Still they smiled. Still, the crowds screamed their names.

In any case, they weren't the only one's who lost champions that night, courtesy of a spear, a chain and a sickle.

"Something happened on that stage, I'm telling you!" You yelled.

"What are you on about?" Your friend asked as you left the arena. "The girls were perfect."

"I never said they weren't perfect. I said that something happened! It was right at the start of BDZ. Mina and Chaeyoung shared a look! I swear!"

Your friend rolled his eyes. "They shared a look? Oh no! What ever could that mean! You mean to tell me two people performing on the same stage shared a look? It must be code red!" he mocked.

"It wasn't like tha—"

"I think this concert is getting to your head. Listen, I know you're the self-proclaimed 'number 1 Chaeyoung stan in the world', but don't you think you're reading into things? Hell, I'm a Chaeyoung stan too."

"Maybe— maybe you're right," you sighed.

"Hey, it was a great concert. I get it. Post concert tacos?" he asked.

You let the memory wash away from your head. That pained look in their faces. First Mina's, then Chaeyoung's. Then a look between them. And you could've sworn the whole group danced just a little more tense after it.

Maybe your friend was right. Maybe you were too deep into this. It was a great show.

"Hey, look at this," your friend said in line for tacos. The crowds had thinned out, most taking the first couple trains out, or otherwise finding restaurants to dine at.

"What is it?" you asked, grabbing his phone.

"Something about Shuhua. She collapsed during a show tonight. Hope she's alright. Anyway, did you see Nayeon? She was so perfect. I think— now don't kill me— I think she's my bias wrecker after this. What about you? Anyone challenge the hold Chaeyoung has on your heart?"

"Never."

Post concert depression was a real thing, you concluded. After highlighting the entire set list for the 6th time over a 4th order of tacos, discussing all the little details you two could remember, you finally decided to call it quits and head home.

Still, you couldn't shake the feeling that something happened during the concert. Now back at home, you analyzed the videos you took, but clearly, you weren't the best photographer (recording while singing your heart out is pretty hard). Hopefully fancams were out from tonight.

You sat at your computer desk, scouring the internet for fancams, so lost in it you didn't even notice the footsteps outside of your room, or the soft creak of your door.

Nice, at least 3 different angles of the BDZ performance. None of Chaeyoung yet, but you had Mina's. And Chaeyoung was in the background of the Jihyo fancam.

Nothing, maybe you were wrong? Maybe it was just your— no there. A slight pang, barely noticeable, as if out of nowhere. Not during a straining dance move or anything, but Chaeyoung's face screwed up in pain, and God it hurt you to see. Like, physically, which was kind of weird.

Bang

The noise rung out with such power your ears popped. You wouldn't have even noticed the windows to your balcony shatter if its glass hadn't scattered onto your floor.

Another bang.

You turned to your balcony, and a man in heavy mercenary gear stood there, poised and ready, dual pistols trained at you.

Not you, you realized, as the bullet whizzed behind you.

It clattered with a blade, so pale it looked like moonlight. It's holder stumbled back as the force ricocheted his swing.

Your first instinct was to run, but as you went to make your escape, the sharp shards of glass dug into your feet.

Still, whatever the hell was happening here, in your room for god knows what reason, you had to get out.

You ignored the sounds of battle behind you, ignored the screaming pain in your feet, and made for your bedroom door.

It flung open before you even reached a hand to it, and another entered. Ice blue clothes with a bow, already strewn. His eyes found yours.

The mercenary slammed into the bow carrier, knocking him down, before turning to you.

"Let's go!" he said, grabbing you with a rough hand, lifting you to your feet.

All you could do was scream as he dragged you to your balcony, kicking the sword carrier who lay already sprawled out on the floor, no sword to be found.

"L-let go!" you yelled, squirming in the mercenaries hand.

"H-hey! Calm down!" he yelled.

"What the f— let— me— go!" you struggled.

He sighed as you wrestled with the single arm hoisting you up by your shirt. "Sorry about this." He pressed the finger of his free hand to his ear. "I'm knocking him out."

"L-like hell you are! I know kara—"

With glowing magenta light, a gun manifested in his hand, and it's butt met your nose giving way to blackness.

Then light. Blurry, woozy, but light.

You shook, but restraints held you in place.

So, you started to scream again, because what else would you do?

"Hey, hey!" a voice rang. The same one that kidnapped you.

"What the fuck is happening! Where am I?"

"I can't believe you all left me to deal with this," he said to god knows who, voice grizzled. Now that you got a good look at him, he looked like he sounded. Battle hardened, stern. "Hey, just calm down. You like Chaeyoung, right?"

The question took you off guard, so much so you actually stopped screaming. "Ch— what the hell does that have to do with anything?"

He knelt down, hands open in front of him to signal 'I mean no harm'. "Everything." He slowly untied the rope around you. "Hey, Chaeyoung's boy. I like Momo."

You sat there incredulously. "You kidnapped me!"

"You're welcome."

"You're welcome!?"

"For saving your life."

You remembered the two intruders in your house, the way this man's bullet ricocheted a sword that looked like it was headed your way, the way he slammed the bow-wielder before they could sling an arrow into you.

"Can you just— tell me what's going on?"

He sighed, body losing it's tension. "You're—"

"Goof," a voice rung out from a walkie-talkie laid on a table nearby. "Not yet."

"What do you mean 'not yet'? You can't just keep me here!"

"You want to leave this safe house? Deal with those two again?" Goof (or, yeah you thought his name was Goof, which didn't match him at all) asked.

"N-no."

"Let me handle them," Goof said into the walkie-talkie. "Send someone else here for the kid. I can take them."

"We don't even know what's going on. Plus, we're not even there yet. You were the closest one," a voice, different than the first said.

"What, you think I can't handle Aespa's champions? I'm Momo's boy for God's sakes!"

"You only won because of the concert tonight. Karina's boy is dangerous. He felled a whole hate page in a night. Saesang's hate to see him coming."

"Tch, lucky. And now they're coming after us? Was Karina's boy there? Was he there when Art— Swan— was he there when they were killed?"

"We don't know."

Something wasn't adding up. This had to be some sort of sick joke. What it sounded like was you were kidnapped because you liked Chaeyoung, which didn't make sense at all. And apparently this guy hated Karina? I mean yeah, you liked Chaeyoung, but you liked Aespa as well! God, you were used to weird Kpop fans, but taking things to this level? It was all too much of a joke.

"I'm going after them."

"No! You still have the newbie!"

"He'll be fine," Goof said, clicking the switch of the walkie-talkie, silencing it. "You ready?"

"Wha-no!"

"Look, I know you haven't met her yet, but just think about her. Think about Chaeyoung, and you'll be fine."

"Wait— what your saying is… I'm gonna meet Chaeyoung?"

"You really are a champion," Goof said, smirking. He picked you up, again by the shirt. As if you weighed nothing, and ran, kicking the door open.

Seemed you were on a roof, the night lit up with the light of the moon. He plopped you on your own two feet. "Follow me."

You could've ran away, really, but you had no idea where you were. And, yeah it was probably a joke, but he did say something about meeting Chaeyoung. You couldn't just pass on that.

Your mood kind of changed when Goof ran across the roof, jumping a whole 15 feet to the next.

"Cmon," he yelled, waving casually for you to follow.

Okay okay, yeah this is all probably some joke. And yet, you did see glowing moon blades, and pistols manifest out of thin air. Not to mention Goof, jumping 15 feet.

Okay no, that didn't mean you were going to jump 15 feet to another roof.

A crystal blue arrow split the night sky, so fast you barely noticed it. The whole rooftop went cold.

A familiar bang sounded, bullet breaking the arrow and restoring the warmth of the summer night, but a quick look behind you and, even from this distance, you could see a pale moonlight blade shine white as its holder hopped from roof to roof.

"Fuck! Run!" Goof called.

Your feet started towards the edge of the roof without even thinking.

"Think of Chaeyoung!"

So you did— you thought of the first time you laid eyes on her, on a little mobile screen as 'Fancy' played, you thought of the first time you saw her in concert, of her smile, of that little mole on her face— and you jumped.

Your feet did not find purchase as gravity carried you lower. You opened your eyes, screaming as the ground grew closer.

Again, Goof's hand closed around your shirt as he jumped in after you. He wrapped his arm around you, spinning to orient the both of you.

"Nngh," he groaned as he landed in the empty alleyway.

You still screamed as he put you down.

"Do you ever stop screaming?"

"I knew it! I fucking knew it! This is all some sick joke! We should've stayed in that safe—"

Goof pushed you out of the way as an arrow whizzed past you. You ran to the wall, placing your back against it as the same man in ice blue clothing landed in the alley.

"Shit—" Goof started, before firing another bullet to intercept the arrow fired in your direction.

"Who— is that?" you asked, backing away slowly. Goof angled himself in front of you, but both him and the bow-wielder stepped slow, weighing each other out.

"Winte— Frost. Used to be a friend," he said quietly. "Hey Frost! Mind telling me what the fuck is going on?"

Frost lifted his hood, revealing pale white hair and vivid blue eyes. "Tipping the scales," he said.

"A lot of that going around. You didn't happen to be there when Art and Swan were killed, did you?"

"I had nothing to do with the Chaeyoung or Mina boys fall. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Goof lowered his guns, just by a bit. "But you must know why. Why? What did we do!?" He gritted his teeth, voice pleading, desperate.

"It's not what you did, it's what you have. All of you."

"What we—"

Frost loosed an arrow at him.

"Jesus, Frost," Goof said, shooting the arrow down. "I'll defend myself if I have to," he continued, and it wasn't a wall, wasn't a barrier, but a threat.

A crash from the other side of the alley signaled another. Not the moonlight blade carrier, but someone maybe just as terrifying.

A huge sword, as tall as you and a foot wide landed with him. Jade green outlines with ornate carvings making a beautiful dragon, the new person heaved its tip in your direction. "You're gonna have to," he said.

Glowing magenta light, and Goof's guns were back in his hands. Everyone moved with precision, practiced and powerful, and if you weren't glued to the wall in fear, you're sure even had you chanced to run, you would've been slashed down anyway. Goof's guns shot bullet after bullet, taking down arrows headed your direction, all while he flipped and ducked out of the way of the giant sword.

He was like an acrobat, finding angles to dodge you couldn't believe possible, before closing in with a strike to the sword holder, either a kick or a butt with his gun.

Goof worked like a machine, even against the two, whose teamwork looked practiced. Every now and then, an arrow would launch at Goof, and when he inevitably dodged it, the massive sword would propel the arrow back in his direction.

All while protecting you. You felt stupid to question him, but then again, what were you supposed to have done?

An opening? Maybe not the fault of the sword-wielder, but one forced open by Goof's expertise. Now, with a direct line of sight Goof's bullet pierced the swordsman's hand.

He dropped his sword, but in creating that opening, Goof's attention left you. Frost capitalized on it, hopping the distance between you two, gliding towards you like on ice.

Your hands flew up to defend yourself, but Frost launched a punch to your gut and your body went limp.

A bullet went straight for his head, but as if swatting away a fly, Frost brought his crystal blue bow up to deflect it.

Goof rushed him, stepping over the floored swordsman.

"You're not taking another fucking champion tonight!" he yelled in a fit of rage. Frost brought his bow up to block the dual pistol-whips trained for his head, but as the guns bounced, Goof brought a leg up, kicking him with force.

The blow was so hard, the brick wall around Frost's body shattered.

"I don't want to do this," Goof said, holding the gun to his head. "Just tell me what's going on!"

"It's… happening… you're not the only ones…"

"What's happening? We're not— who else!?"

"The great… song. Art and Swan, they died because they had to—"

Bang

Your eyes widened as the bullet entered his head, skull caving in around the entrance with a spray of blood.

"Shi—" was all you managed, before you heaved onto the pavement. You collapsed, still emptying your dinner. "Y-you killed him!"

"He was trying to kill us. He mocked them."

"T-this isn't a fucking joke anymore. That— that guy is dead! Blarghh" you heaved again.

A blood curdling scream pierced the air, and from above, a slash as white as moonlight streaked towards the two of you.

In your heaves, you had fallen to your knees, but Goof wasn't so lucky. The slash hit him in the chest, spraying another gush of blood into the alley.

He fell against the wall. "It's R-Rina's boy. Run!" he managed, but the moonblade wielder landed in the alley. His jawline was screwed up in anger, but even so, it was sharp. Maybe even sharper than the sword he brandished.

Goof struggled to stand, and his guns flashed in and out of corporeality.

You'd seen what Goof could do, seen how skilled he was, but as Karina's boy stood in front of you, you understood there was no way he could do anything in this state. His aura alone could make you cower. It was a miracle you didn't notice it in your room.

Gauntlets blazing like the Sun trailed from above, as a punch aimed at the moonlight wielder was deflected by his blade. Yet another had entered the battle.

"Take him and run!" the gauntlet wielder yelled.

"They— they said we weren't the only—" Goof stuttered

"Run!" the gauntlet wielder yelled again as his fists collided with the moonblade

Goof grabbed you, dragging you out.

The sounds of fighting rattled in your head. It sounded fierce— the other swordsman had probably awoken. In Goof's injuries, he stumbled.

"G-Goof! You're gonna need to, fuck Goof!" you yelled, but his eyes went unfocused as he coughed blood, collapsing with his arm around you. "Just stay with me."

"4…87 Tavern Lane…" he said, before collapsing unconscious.

"Go!!" a voice, bright yet commanding rang behind you.

Getting Goof to the address wasn't easy. How did it look for you to be dragging an unconscious bleeding man 12 blocks? It wasn't even downtown proper anymore by the time you got to the address. Still, you managed to get him there without too much trouble.

Looked like an abandoned garage, spray painted and caked with layers of dirt. A door at the side of the building sat unlocked, and upon entering, a cozy lounge welcomed you. Velvet carpets, plenty of space, workbenches, and soft couches.

You dragged him to one of the couches, laying him down. He was pale white, the scar on his chest stretching its whole length.

You collapsed too, huffs of air signaling your exhaustion.

You should've been helping Goof. Okay, look around here. There must be some bandage here. You got up, fighting through aching muscles to look around.

Still, you took nothing in as you searched. The events of the night kept replaying, how you got broken into. How Goof had kidnapped you. How he had killed someone. Right in front of you. The memory kept replaying over in over in your head. How the archer's eyes popped out of his head as the bullet entered his skull.

You dry-heaved again. But you knew one thing— this wasn't a joke anymore. Whatever this was, whatever was going on, it was real, and it was dangerous.

Seriously, no first aid kits here in this mercenaries hideout? Seemed like poor foresight.

So what now? Did you just, stay here? You couldn't in good consciousness leave, right? Not with Goof here, bleeding out.

On one of the other couches, you found a comfy looking blanket. Maybe you could make a tourniquet with it? Not that you knew how, but well, might as well try.

Approaching Goof revealed something odd— his wound looked better. Almost smaller. What the fuck was he? A superhuman? Shouldn't be surprised, really. He could manifest guns out of thin air.

A creak of the door jerked your attention as you wrapped the blanket awkwardly around Goof.

Fuck. Did they find you? You grabbed something, anything to defend yourself.

It slowly opened.

"Stay back! I—I'm armed!" you screamed.

A man collapsed through the door, his fitted black shirt and sweats looking ragged. He hell to his knees, but even battle worn he was handsome. It was as if the Sunlight itself had walked through the door.

"Armed with a pillow?" he chuckled brightly. "Help me up."

You faintly recognized him as the gauntlet wielder. You were drawn to help him, so much so you were sure, even if you hadn't recognized him you would've helped.

"Goof! He's unconscious!" You told him as you rushed to help him up, tossing the pillow aside.

"He'll be fine. Fans are going crazy, especially after that concert tonight." He struggled to his feet, taking you in. "You're… different than expected. Sorry for the chaotic welcome," he smiled.

You helped him stumble to the couch. "What welcome? What is this? What the hell is going on?!"

He paused, eyeing you. Weighing you. "You like Chaeyoung, right?"

You clenched your jaw. "Yes! And Goof likes Momo! What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

"Yeah, well, I like Jihyo. I guess, you can call me Cap'n."

"I like Jihyo too! What do Kpop idols have to do with— with all this?"

The pretty boy smiled again, and though you'd never admit it, it calmed you down. "Yeah, well, I like her a lot."

You balled your fists up. You were in no mood for this enigmatism. "Can you just tell me what's going on?"

"Never thought Chaeyoung's boy would be a yeller. Listen," he started standing up, "you're a champion."

"A… champion?"

"You feel it too. You have to. The touch of the soul, the connection, something here," he pointed to your chest, "something in your heart, when you listen to music. Don't you?"

"Yeah, well, doesn't everyone?"

"I should hope so. When do you feel it strongest?"

"When I'm listening to Twice, of course." You said it with confidence. Maybe the only thing you've said with confidence since this whole thing started.

"Be more specific."

"When I— when Chaeyoung is singing."

"Exactly! You're a champion!"

"You still haven't told me what the hell a champion is!"

"We're— you're a manifestation of the spirit of her music. The spirit of her song."

The words hit you like a truck, and the world around you disappeared. As implausible, as crazy as it sounded, you felt it. You've seen it. Still, you needed more. "How can that be true? I'm— I didn't even know who Chaeyoung was until like, 7 years ago!"

"It's more like, I don't know, the spirit of her music has manifested itself in you. I don't know the details."

Okay, so you're Chaeyoung's champion. You sat down on the couch, next to Goof who looked substantially less pale. "And what? Champions just, fight other groups champions? Doesn't feel very 'spirit of the music' does it?"

"No," Cap'n said, disappointed. "This has never happened before. Champions, they defend that spirit of music."

"Defend? Like how?"

"Music, it brings people together, it shares and amplifies positivity and joy, sometimes to the whole world. But with it comes fame, and fame, it's like the opposite. All those akgae's and saesang's you see, that's the shadows of fame trying to infiltrate the spirit of music. Trying to corrupt it. Those haters, they manifest beings. Beings from other worlds that look to take down musicians. Make their music unfit for joy. That's where we come in. To protect them from those spirits."

"Okay, so what you're telling me is some… some spirit has chosen me to be Chaeyoung's champion against the haters?"

"Kinda, yeah."

You felt a depth of gratitude spur from your heart. Chaeyoung's champion. How did that sound. Unbelievable yeah, but from what you saw today— today. Someone died today. Right in front of your eyes. What did this mean for you? That you too would be responsible to fight?

"So… wait. If champions are meant to fight the haters, why are we fighting with other champions?"

"I have no idea. They just… attacked us. Yesterday, everything was fine, and then tonight…"

You paused for a moment. "I assume I'm not Chaeyoung's first champion?"

Cap'n looked down, sorrowful. "Mina and Chaeyoung's champions were killed during the concert."

You leaned back in your seat, taking in the weight of it all. "I… and I'm their next target?"

"We all ar—"

Goof shook awake with a gasp of air, sitting up. "NMIXX! ITZY! Oh God! Cap'n!" he yelled as he jolted back into consciousness, "Frost said there were others! Do you—"

"Calm down," Cap'n said softly. "Goof, calm down."

"They said there were others!" Goof repeated. "We need to check on our dong-saengs!"

"They're fine, Goof. It's not Itzy or NMIXX this is happening to as well." His voice was strained and wary.

"Oh thank God," Goof sighed. His breathing mellowed out as he took in his surroundings. "What the hell happened to you?" he asked, nodding at Cap'ns worn appearance.

"It was Karina's boy. He's so damn strong. If we were in Korea, it'd probably have gone worse."

"You're Jihyo's champion! You don't lose to anyone! We're Twice for God's sake."

"I never said I lost."

"The rest? Are they okay?"

"Timbre and Flow are at the JYP building, Wink and Sha are getting Mina's new champion."

"Those are… the rest of Twice's champions?" You asked.

"Yeah. You caught him up on the whole 'champions' thing?"

Cap'n nodded.

"You'll meet them soon enough."

"You… you said that about Chaeyoung."

Cap'n laughed. "You really are a champion. Don't worry, she's always around."

"Oh, and you'll do more than just meet her. From what I heard from Art, Chaeyoung is quite vorac—"

"Goof."

"Sorry, Cap'n."

A haze of magenta light manifested a small drone no bigger than a house fly between the three of you.

A scrawny voice sounded through it. "Le Sserafim. They're targeting Le Sserafim next."

Goof and Cap'n didn't seem fazed by its sudden appearance. "Le Sserafim? How do you know?"

"I did some digging. Cap'n, they're gonna need help. They're already dealing with the backlash from Boompala."

Cap'n sat there in thought. "Why them?" he pondered out loud.

"Cap, we have to help them! We can't just leave them alone."

"How long 'till they're attacked? Do you know?"

"I think it's happening now."

"We need to help them Cap! Call the girls. Ask their jet!"

"They need it for the tour. No matter what happens, it's not their job to get involved. It's their job to be idols. Think about what we're protecting."

"But they—"

"They'll be fine." Cap'n concluded. "Timbre and Flow can help if they need to."

"We don't even know who's attacking us yet! It could be every champion in Korea"

"They'll be fine. Those Le Sserafim boys survived the Easy era. They're probably more battle hardened us."

Chaewon arched her back as he kissed down her belly. "Holy shit, Sticks, calm down."

Sticks propped her up, sliding his hands down to her ass. "Mmm, but you just taste so good, baby." His lips kissed lower and lower, before reaching her black panties. "I wanna taste more."

"Nngh, fuck, baby," Chaewon moaned, grabbing his hair and stopping him from going further. "D— don't you have a job to do?"

"Oh, because of that damned comeback of yours? You love to keep us working, don't you. Plus, my only job is to take care of you."

"So go deal with those demons like you always do," she purred, stroking his hair.

"I have to take care of this. You're so wet, clearly you need it."

Chaewon lessened her restraint letting Sticks's tongue brush against her wet pussy.

Sticks wrapped his arms around Chaewon's legs so they rested on his shoulder, snaking them around so one of them landed on her belly, caressing it softly. The other hand found her clit, thumb rubbing it softly.

"Nngh— shit. You— you don't do it like this with Zuha, do you?"

He licked harder at the mention.

"You didn't get more turned on from hearing her name, did you?"

"Please," Sticks groaned through licks. "I'm your champion."

"That doesn't answer the question."

"Then maybe this will."' He shifted his hands so they reached her breasts, licking up to her clit.

"Nngh, Sticks!" She moaned as he tongued her while playing with her nipples. "Sticks, shit, I'm gonna cum." Her legs tightened around his face as her wetness coated it.

"Cum for me, baby."

"Nngh!" She groaned, clenching her legs even tighter.

Sticks stayed there, licking as she squirmed around him, before she eventually came down, loosening her hold.

He kissed up her belly, collapsing on her chest, feeling her hands wrap around him.

"I should probably go."

"Or you could stay?"

"Weren't you telling me to go like, 5 minutes ago?"

"Yeah, but you're comfy."

"I can practically smell the fame ghouls from all the way up here. You chose some fucking songs to release, Chae. Haters are going crazy."

"I like the songs."

"I do too baby."

"Liar. Well, can't the other champions handle them right now?"

"The rest of them are still dealing with the all the ghouls celebration brought, so thanks for that. With Boompala, we're going to be busy all damn week. The building is probably swarmed with them right now."

"It's just going to be you tonight?"

"Don't think I can handle it?"

"I know you can it's just— I'd like it more if someone else were with you."

"I'll be fine," Sticks said, leaving the bed with a grunt. "I'll see you tonight?"

"Ugh, fine."

"Are you pouting?"

"Yeah," she said, fighting back a smile. "Is it working?"

"Almost."

"I'm kidding, go. Be careful."

He propped himself up, hovering over her. "When am I not?"

Sticks stood at the edge of the roof, looking at the skyline of Seoul. He'd come up here at night sometimes, when Chaewon was on tour. The city lights seemed sharper, more beautiful. If he listened close enough, he could hear it. The city singing.

Especially at this time of night, when all of the chaos subsided. The people of Seoul sleeping, it created its own song. That's why he loved Chaewon, she had this knack, this ability to take the songs of the world and turn them into something palpable. Into art. But today, like the last couple of days, was far from unchaotic.

Though, even the ghostly purple glow of the fame ghouls, who stormed the building en masse, filling the streets below looked pretty. At least, they did now that he was used to them.

Even the breeze was nice, the howl of the wind was music in its own right. It helped calm him, remind him why he fought. His eyes glowed fearless blue as he manifested an odd sort of weapon, but one that fit his relationship with Chaewon perfectly. A pair of nunchaku dangled from his right hand.

He closed his eyes, let the rhythm of the night dictate his next move.

He could hear the battle below, creating its own song— discordious, but beneath it, hidden right under the surface, something beautiful.

Eyes still closed, he let himself fall, let the wind around him rush as he climbed lower and lower towards that discourse.

Then, the song rang its loudest. He opened his eyes, swinging his nunchaku around as he oriented himself, landing. The purple mist around him faded as the fame ghouls he struck were released from this world.

There was more tonight. More than usual. He swung his weapon around him, releasing ghoul after ghoul.

If he wanted to, he could've felled the ghouls faster— the spirit of Chaewon's song was strong, but Sticks liked this. The slowness of it all. Watching the ghouls release with swing after swing; it was peaceful, cathartic.

He could spend hours out here. At times he'd close his eyes, let his ears do the work.

Like most nights, the sound was wrong, but in the middle of it all, a song so harmonious and beautiful pierced through everything. Bright and beautiful, the song filled his mind, giving him joy. He knew this song well.

Sticks opened his eyes, the street now a haze of mist as every single ghoul rose from this plane of existence.

Atop the HYBE building stood another champion, long red whip flowing, cutting the night sky in two.

Sticks smiled. He'd worked with her before. "Been a while, Luck!"

Luck stood there, her own hair flowing like her whip.

"Everything okay?"

Even from down here, Sticks could see the look on the face of Wonyoung's champion. Usually happy and smiling, it was different. A somber sort of expression, maybe even angry.

Like lightning, the whip cracked towards Sticks, circling around him and burning like passion.

"L-Luck? If you wanted to spar again, you could've just asked!"

In an instant, Luck pulled herself towards the nunchaku holder, landing beside him with a crash.

"I'm sorry for this. Really," Luck said, voice low. She gripped the handle of her whip, pulling tight. The rope constricted around him.

"Luck, what the fuc—" Sticks started, before his lungs too were squeezed.

Luck's long dark hair shrouded her face. He could barely make out her expression. "The one true song is coming.

----

A/N:

I think if someone were to ask me to recommend them one thing by me to read, it would be this. Truly, I am really excited for this. Let me know what you think other champions weapons should be. Really fun coming up with ideas for this! Doesn't even matter from which group. Clearly, this story involves the entirety of the Kpop world, so who knows, maybe groups you wouldn't expect me to write will show up.

Small picture.

[limemrys]

Tentram

Hsu Nien Tzu x Male reader

Genre : Fluff, Angst

Word count : 1.0k

TW : Death, Blood

a/n : This was written for @mysonesecret's A Thousand Words challenge over on Fanprose

Hands. Nien offered hers as the answer after I mustered every morsel of courage in the world to confess after an exceptionally boring class. 

“Huh? That…your—wait! Really?”

“Yeah! That’s what people do when they’re dating, right?” she giggled with the brightest smile I’ve ever seen on a person. I tentatively gave my hand, but Nien grabbed it and dragged me along with her. “Come on, let’s have lunch!” 

“Whoa–hey! Wait, I haven’t packed my stuff yet!”

Nien cackled and did a U-turn, flunking me towards my desk. “Better be quick or I’m gonna eat you instead, sugarpie!”

“Got it. Give me a minu—sugarpie?” 

“Mhm. You asked me out so sweetly and you got a big round head, so…sugarpie!” she snickers, drawing a circle in the air with both hands. I chuckle in amazement, nodding. “I guess that’s me.”

“Hurry up!”

“Okay!”

***

Hands. I held Nien’s throughout and after she cried from nervousness and anxiety a few days before our wedding.

“Why’d you say yes?”

“Hm?” she mumbled, curled up on my chest. 

I gently wiped away some of her dried tears. “Why did you say yes to, well…my proposal? Just…curious.”

Her mouth tugged side-to-side in thought before blooming into a small, warm smile. “You feel…hmm…peaceful.”

“Peaceful? Me?” I laughed.

Nien nodded. “You…I feel…I know I don’t have to be afraid of anything beside you. Even when I do bad things. You don’t hesitate to set me straight, without any judgement.” Her hand rose to caress my cheek, then poked at it softly. “I can be anything, everything, or nothing. When you’re beside me, my heart is at peace.”

Hatiku damai, jiwaku tentram di sampingmu.

I could feel my heart thumping harder, Nien likely could as well by how she was grinning. My cheeks bloomed warm as I cupped hers, leaning down for a kiss. “I’m gonna marry you again, I swear.”

“We haven’t even married once, you silly!” she giggled into my lips.

“Don’t care. I love you that much.” 

Nien kissed me this time. “I love you too, sugarpie.”

***

Hands. Nien held mine as she nursed them after I opened a suspicious package that was meant for her, which turned out to be a small firebomb.

“Those assholes,” she huffed, her eyes blazing. “Using these old ass scare tactics—what do they think this is, 1960?”

“Ouch!”

“Sorry, sorry!” She blew on my burnt hand softly. 

“It’s okay, honey. It wasn’t your fau—”

“No, it’s not okay!” she snarled, her jaws trembling before she started sobbing. “Those…fucking Vulpes thugs would rather do this shit than actually admit their atrocities. Think they’re above everyone else.” She sniffled and wiped her nose with her elbow.

“Well, I’m one journalist they won’t silence. I wasn’t gonna stop, but now they hurt my sugarpie? I’m gonna skin them alive. I’m gonna be even louder.”

“Honey, isn’t that…dangerous?” 

“That’s exactly what they want,” she gritted. “Want me to be scared. Fuck that.” She gets back to treating my burns. “You believe in me, don’t you?”

I sighed. “I’m still a bit concerned…but, I do. All the way. Fuck them up, hon—ow!” I tried to raise a fist. Nien whined, slapping your back. “What are you doing? You’re still hurt!”

“Yeah, forgot,” I snickered. “You’re really hot when you’re mad, by the way.”

Nien couldn’t help but laugh, slapping me softer and pulling in to peck my lips. “You silly, beautiful man.”

“Takes one to know one.”

***

Hands. I was jumping in place to surprise Nien and hold hers as her train pulled onto the platform. As I looked around for her among the disembarking passengers, I heard a woman scream.

“HELP!”

I didn’t think twice before running to the car it came from. “What’s going on?” I asked a passenger crowding around something. 

“I think someone’s hurt, I’m not sure.”

I pushed past the crowd, and my heart dropped. Nien was on the floor, half conscious, her lower torso stained deep red. Her head rested on the lap of a woman quietly sobbing, her hands also stained as it pressed on Nien’s stomach. “What…what–what happened? I–I’m her husband, please tell me!”

“I don’t know!” she cried, shaking her head. “She was standing next to me, and there was…like this, this group that came in and bumped into us.” She sniffled and swallowed. “Then they got off here, and then…and then she just collapsed!”

“Oh my God…honey. Nien, honey! Can you hear me?” I held her cheek and turned her face towards me. “Did—did you call an ambulance yet?”

“I did…told the driver to–to stop the train, too.”

“Did you, um…here, let me.” I took over putting pressure on Nien’s wound. “You remember anyone from that…the ones who bumped into you?”

The woman bawled, shaking her head. “No! I’m sorry sir, I didn’t—it was…I’m sorry!”

I nodded and leaned closer to Nien. “Nien, honey. Hey, I’m here. Can you hear me?”

She stirred weakly, her voice airy and thin. “Sugarpie?”

“Yeah, me! Sugarpie!” Tears started falling. “Help is on the way, so stay awake for me, okay? I won’t go anywhere, I promise. Just stay with me, please.”

Nien’s lips curved into a frail smile, her bloody hand floating up to my cheek. “Sugarpie…”

“Mhm, what is it, hon?”

She didn’t answer, only opening her eyes a bit wider to look at me. Her smile grew just a bit, then started to wilt away as her breath slowed. 

“Honey? Hey! Don’t—stay with me! Don’t you dare! Stay with me, Hsu Nien Tzu! Don’t—” I choked. “Don’t leave me alone…please…”

 Her featherlight breaths slowed down more, then stopped completely. The light behind her glossy brown eyes dwindled, then faded into emptiness. 

“No, no! Nien! Honey! Wake up!” My hand moved from her wound to catch her hand sliding away from my cheek. I gripped it harder than ever, sobbing profusely. “Wake up, please…”

Hands. That was the last time mine held hers. And I would do anything to hold it just once more.