synopsis: touring was fun, but the best part came after the shows.
word count: 1.2k (i swear i have a long fic coming but i keep writing short ones to keep my mind fresh)
notes: tenth member! reader, fwb, not full smut but suggestive, praise and jealousy, maybe kinda angsty but that's how i writeeee, part twooooo? ><
"you're so pretty."
touring was always hectic; the most elaborate mix of tiring and exciting.
you loved it nonetheless, getting to play around with your members and greet your fans from all across the world made the exhaustion worth it. you also did happen to love the fittings for all the pretty outfits you'd get to wear, and briefing with your makeup artist what the concept of the day would be. it was always intentional, more than something for the fans; something for you, something for her. you'd leave the venues in casual clothes, making sure to keep everything else perfectly in tact, the idol front still present. some would say it was in case fans spotted you out eating after shows, or for the slim chance you booted up a livestream. maybe it was for the selfies you could post later. you knew it wasn't that. she knew it wasn't that either.
sana had you pressed to your hotel room door from the second you let her in, hands gripping your waist enough to bruise. you pawed at her, telling her she couldn't leave a mark if you were to be performing in revealing clothes. she didn't care much though, fingers still digging through your shirt, mouth still hot on your neck. you knew she liked the idea of you as an idol; you as the girl from the music videos or showcases. so, you did what you had to in order for her attention to be solely on you, even if a part of your heart burned when she slipped away afterwards.
"can't believe this is all for me." it was worth it when she was whining against your glossed lips anyway, eating up all your moans. her hands toyed at your shirt, impatient as always, but she liked teasing you above all else. that much was evident when she was pulling away, ignoring how you whimpered at the loss of her lips on your own, her hands on your waist. "take your shirt off for me." her voice is low, just raspy enough to make you tremble and obey, all while staring at her dark eyes and swollen lips.
she watches as your hands shake, tugging at the baggy shirt that was most definitely hers. she smiles at that, her need for possession evident, and her need for you to be absolutely under her control even more so prominent. once it's over your head and your lacey white bra is revealed you can hear the sharp breath she takes. she steps forward again, enough to let a single finger run against the cup, slow, teasing.
"only for me to see, right?" sana sounds absolutely breathless and you can tell she wants this just as you do. you nod, hurried, always quick to respond when it was her asking. "mm, so, so pretty." she leans back in to kiss you once more, slow, but hungry. you want to rush things, to hurry up and take her, but you know you can't. it's always been sana's game, you just played it. her hands drop to your baggy jeans, teasing long fingers under the waist, slipping them back up before you can get too excited.
"sana, just, please." your words fall flat into her mouth, and she only groans, pressing you further into the door, body flush to yours. you let a hand find her hair, the other bracing yourself on her arm, and she hums appreciatively. you give a soft tug, just how she likes, and you can feel her weight keel onto you.
"be patient, y/n." her fingers pinch at your waist and her lips leave your own, trailing down to nip at your jaw. "i'm not done playing with you yet. you can't tease me and not expect the same back." you try ignoring how high her voice is with want, but your thighs clench all the same anyway.
this was your most favorite part of tour; being able to make sana so desperate to please you. it was the sole moment where you were able to be confident in the fact that she wanted you back, even if such weren't true. still felt good enough in the moment, and it would always be enough for you in knowing you couldn't have her how you wanted.
"always looking so pretty, flirting with the other girls like you don't feel me watching." her bites on your nape grow hotter, sharper, her canines sinking in that much further at the idea of any of the other girls enjoying you how she does. you want to swat at her and warn her about marks, but it all feels too good to dare to complain. "you know they couldn't make a mess of you like i do anyway, so why bother?"
"they couldn't, sana." you hum, voice clipped with want and breaking off into the empty hotel room. you especially loved her like this, possessive and jealous, analyzing your every move. "'s only you." your eyes glance down to her, though lidded, and you catch her looking up, carefully thinking for what she could do next. it doesn't take long for her to decide on licking up your neck and kissing you again.
"good," she murmurs between kisses, letting her hands drift to play with the button of your jeans. "at least you know i'm the only one that can make you feel like this."
it's ironic and a part of it makes your heart burn. she is the only one that could make you feel like this, that was the issue anyways wasn't it?
"tell me how much you want me right now." she pulls back to eye you again, almost glaring, silently daring you to say you wanted anything but her. "i need to hear you tell me just how much you need me." her breath is hot on your face and your head nearly falls back against the door. she'd reminded you countless times to only look at her when the two of you were hooking up though.
"i need you, sana. just, please, you know it's always you." her hands unbutton your jeans, dropping to fidget with the zipper.
"yeah? always me? even when we aren't out in other cities and we're stationed in seoul?" there's something knowing that laces itself in her words and it makes you flush harder with embarrassment.
"always, everywhere, just you." she pulls the zipper down, eyes quirking with a curiosity that makes your blood run cold. had she really caught on or did you accidentally confess? you really want to get anxious, or to push her off and say everything was going a little too far, but the image of her dropping down to her knees where she stands overpowers everything you were thinking. her soft, plump lips pressing to the inside of your thighs taking control over any sense of rationality. how she presses her sharp nose to your skin sending heat over your body and replacing the chill you felt at her possible realization. the soft whines she lets out against you the only thing that buzz in your mind, as if you were trying to remember every detail.
you'd always love touring, mainly, what came after, falling apart for sana again and again. even if every time she got closer and closer to registering the small secret to the nature of your hookups.
summary . you've always been obsessed with your step-mother.
âč àŁȘ Ë content . smut. step-cest. thigh riding. step-mom! jihyo. step-daughter! reader. age gap. corruption kink. reader is of age. mommy kink.
notes . sometimes I forget how freaky my followers are until I get reqs like this. but I will be of service, I suppose.
"what're you up to, little one?"
jihyo's eyes were on you the moment your head poked into the room. she softened, patting the space next to her on her bed. she was used to this. you were a clingy girl - the daughter of the man she'd married. out of necessity, to clarify. the older woman had no feelings, what so ever, for the man. but rather, for you. his cute little daughter.
your twenty-first birthday had just passed, and you had spent the night at their place so you wouldn't get too drunk. and now here you were, wobbling into her room looking absolutely adorable.
though your hungover had long passed, leaving you tired and pliant as you crawled onto the bed and up to the older woman, nuzzling int her offered touch immediately. jihyo chuckled, stroking your cheek softly. "sleep okay?"
you hummed loosely. "yeah.."
"hm." jihyo shifted slightly. she wore one of her simple pink robes, silk in texture - and something that highlighted her curves well. you practically folded into her, head nuzzling against the exposed tan of her collarbones.
"so cute.." jihyo purred, resting her hand on your hip and dragging you closer. "did you have a good time last night?"
you nod along. "yeah, it was fun..missed you."
"missed me?" jihyo chuckled. "even on your birthday? missed mommy?"
you gulped almost instantly, the way you always did when she used that tone with you. coupled with that title? it was practically a death wish. "...yeah."
"good girl." came her swift response, hand squeezing your hip softly. "such a good girl, aren't you angel? mommy's good little girl."
your brain fogged softly under her words, and you pressed into her touch, sighing at the gentle praise that cocooned you. it was no secret you had the fattest crush on jihyo - ever since your father had married her you'd been nothing short of obsessed. knowing the feelings were reciprocated was a whole other thing to delve into.
speaking of, jihyo's hand slides up, bracing your waist slightly as she lifts you - resting you down against her firmer thigh. a soft groan escapes you at the feeling, and jihyo merely smirks, patting your hip. "feels good?"
you nod along, nuzzling against her collarbones again as jihyo hummed, slowly ebbing you back and up again against her thigh. you trembled slightly, feeling heat pool into your core the moment it rubbed against jihyo's thigh. your head pressed closer, a small noise escaping.
"ah..mommy.."
jihyo's smirk widens a bit, and she leans down - brushing a soft kiss to your temple. "shh, baby, just feel.."
you nod along, squirming slightly as she grinds you down against her, your clit perfectly positioned to be rubbed everytime. over the course of a few minutes, you grow wetter - and jihyo leans back, hands now loosely on your waist as you rut against her all on your own.
"there you go...good girl.."
you whimper slightly, rubbing back and forth a bit harder - looking up at her shyly. she merely smiles, leaning in and connecting you in a slow kiss. it shoots fireworks through you, and you tremble slightly in her hold, little moans escaping as she rubs you back and forth. softly, your hands tremble - grasping at her robe.
jihyo leans her leg up a bit, purposely digging against you and making sure you feel the way her knee rubs at your clit. you whimper into the kiss - breaking away to graon. "a-ah mommy...feels.."
"shhh, I know," jihyo reaches for your hips again as your body goes slightly limp. she takes back over your slow rubs, moving you back and forth more insistently instead. you groan, bucking against her touch. jihyo coos, feeling your panties dampen impossibly further, a wet slick sliding slowly down her thigh.
"so cute..."
"mommy..."
she chuckles. "it's alright, baby, it's normal."
you groan. "m-mph..b-but what if dad-"
jihyo tuts. "your father isn't here right now, is he? be a good girl and focus on mommy, alright?"
despite yourself, you nod along. your thighs shake and quiver, your heart racing quicker as the pressure in your tummy builds. jihyo recognizes this, softly grasping your hips a bit tighter as she nuzzles you down against her leg, moving you quicker and quicker until-
"nngh!" you collapse forward, subconsciously nipping her collarbone.
jihyo groans as she feels the way you gush against her leg. "atta girl..fuck," her eyes glanced down, another groan falling. "mama's good girl..look at you..."
you flush, shyly whimpering against her.
jihyo chuckles, moving her leg from between yours. she then shifts to lean back, and your head is slowly guided between her legs - your flush growing instantly as you shyly squeak. "m-mommy?"
jihyo hums. "shh, be a good girl and help mommy out too.."
and reluctantly, you nod, watching her head slip back as you lean in.
summary . you've always been obsessed with your step-mother.
âč àŁȘ Ë content . smut. step-cest. thigh riding. step-mom! jihyo. step-daughter! reader. age gap. corruption kink. reader is of age. mommy kink.
notes . sometimes I forget how freaky my followers are until I get reqs like this. but I will be of service, I suppose.
"what're you up to, little one?"
jihyo's eyes were on you the moment your head poked into the room. she softened, patting the space next to her on her bed. she was used to this. you were a clingy girl - the daughter of the man she'd married. out of necessity, to clarify. the older woman had no feelings, what so ever, for the man. but rather, for you. his cute little daughter.
your twenty-first birthday had just passed, and you had spent the night at their place so you wouldn't get too drunk. and now here you were, wobbling into her room looking absolutely adorable.
though your hungover had long passed, leaving you tired and pliant as you crawled onto the bed and up to the older woman, nuzzling int her offered touch immediately. jihyo chuckled, stroking your cheek softly. "sleep okay?"
you hummed loosely. "yeah.."
"hm." jihyo shifted slightly. she wore one of her simple pink robes, silk in texture - and something that highlighted her curves well. you practically folded into her, head nuzzling against the exposed tan of her collarbones.
"so cute.." jihyo purred, resting her hand on your hip and dragging you closer. "did you have a good time last night?"
you nod along. "yeah, it was fun..missed you."
"missed me?" jihyo chuckled. "even on your birthday? missed mommy?"
you gulped almost instantly, the way you always did when she used that tone with you. coupled with that title? it was practically a death wish. "...yeah."
"good girl." came her swift response, hand squeezing your hip softly. "such a good girl, aren't you angel? mommy's good little girl."
your brain fogged softly under her words, and you pressed into her touch, sighing at the gentle praise that cocooned you. it was no secret you had the fattest crush on jihyo - ever since your father had married her you'd been nothing short of obsessed. knowing the feelings were reciprocated was a whole other thing to delve into.
speaking of, jihyo's hand slides up, bracing your waist slightly as she lifts you - resting you down against her firmer thigh. a soft groan escapes you at the feeling, and jihyo merely smirks, patting your hip. "feels good?"
you nod along, nuzzling against her collarbones again as jihyo hummed, slowly ebbing you back and up again against her thigh. you trembled slightly, feeling heat pool into your core the moment it rubbed against jihyo's thigh. your head pressed closer, a small noise escaping.
"ah..mommy.."
jihyo's smirk widens a bit, and she leans down - brushing a soft kiss to your temple. "shh, baby, just feel.."
you nod along, squirming slightly as she grinds you down against her, your clit perfectly positioned to be rubbed everytime. over the course of a few minutes, you grow wetter - and jihyo leans back, hands now loosely on your waist as you rut against her all on your own.
"there you go...good girl.."
you whimper slightly, rubbing back and forth a bit harder - looking up at her shyly. she merely smiles, leaning in and connecting you in a slow kiss. it shoots fireworks through you, and you tremble slightly in her hold, little moans escaping as she rubs you back and forth. softly, your hands tremble - grasping at her robe.
jihyo leans her leg up a bit, purposely digging against you and making sure you feel the way her knee rubs at your clit. you whimper into the kiss - breaking away to graon. "a-ah mommy...feels.."
"shhh, I know," jihyo reaches for your hips again as your body goes slightly limp. she takes back over your slow rubs, moving you back and forth more insistently instead. you groan, bucking against her touch. jihyo coos, feeling your panties dampen impossibly further, a wet slick sliding slowly down her thigh.
"so cute..."
"mommy..."
she chuckles. "it's alright, baby, it's normal."
you groan. "m-mph..b-but what if dad-"
jihyo tuts. "your father isn't here right now, is he? be a good girl and focus on mommy, alright?"
despite yourself, you nod along. your thighs shake and quiver, your heart racing quicker as the pressure in your tummy builds. jihyo recognizes this, softly grasping your hips a bit tighter as she nuzzles you down against her leg, moving you quicker and quicker until-
"nngh!" you collapse forward, subconsciously nipping her collarbone.
jihyo groans as she feels the way you gush against her leg. "atta girl..fuck," her eyes glanced down, another groan falling. "mama's good girl..look at you..."
you flush, shyly whimpering against her.
jihyo chuckles, moving her leg from between yours. she then shifts to lean back, and your head is slowly guided between her legs - your flush growing instantly as you shyly squeak. "m-mommy?"
jihyo hums. "shh, be a good girl and help mommy out too.."
and reluctantly, you nod, watching her head slip back as you lean in.
â | description ; having two girlfriends is even more fun when theyâre both obsessed with you.
â | content ; smut, a little bit of fluff, one line that could maybe count as angst. overstimulation. jihyo is a FREAK
â | notes ; here you go you FREAKS⊠also this is the fastest ive ever written and the wildest fic ive ever made idk what happened to me
â | word count ; 5.6k
You wake just as you always do; wrapped up in the arms of one of your girlfriends, with the other always within reach. Today, Momo's arms are warm around your waist, and Jihyo's shoulder apparently became the perfect headrest overnight.
They're already awake when you stir, talking in low voices. Momo's hand is charting across your skin, her fingers tracing invisible sketches over the skin, heat radiating from her palm.
Jihyo's hand comes to rest over Momo's, and the casual affection between the two elicits a small smile and a soft laugh from you.
You press your face into Jihyo's shoulder as her had turna to face you, a kiss being planted on your head. "Go back to sleep," she says, immediately. "It's too early, and you were up late last night."
"I'm awake now," you murmur, but the slow tempo of your words gives you away.
Momo leans over, resting her forehead on the back of your head. It's a tactic she uses often; you aren't very likely to want to move her, so she has a tendency to do that in order to keep you in place. "You're still tired," she states, truthfully. "It's two against one, baby. Majority wins?"
You grumble about the fact that she can read you so easily, but the low, soothing tone of her voice causes your eyes to lower nonetheless. Jihyo shifts closer, wrapping one arm around you.
With that, it's over. You can hardly argue with one of them, let alone both.
"You're both so annoying," you mumble, but it trails off into a yawn. Your eyes fully close as Jihyo's fingers comb through your hair.
It doesn't take very long before you fall asleep again, relaxed and safe in the arms of your two lovers.
-
You sleep for another two hours before finally waking at a normal hour.
The three of you are all going out with the other girls today; technically, only Jihyo and Momo were meant to, but they have a tendency to extend every invitation to you. And you, having the day off, would never willingly give up a chance to spend time with them.
You check the weather; hot, apparently.
That's the only thing that you have in mind as you pick your outfit. A cropped tank top, along with a coincidentally form-fitting pair of pants.
The weather is the only thing on your mind. Practicality.
Your girlfriends, though⊠not so much.
-
As soon as you walk back into the bedroom to retrieve your jewelry, you feel eyes on you. You glance up curiously, only to find Jihyo staring at you intensely.
âŠHuh. It's going to be a long day.
-Â
There's constantly eyes on you. You wish you were joking, but you aren't; when Jihyo isn't staring at you, Momo is. When Momo isn't staring at you, Jihyo is.
You catch their eyes a few times, smiling, just praying they can hold themselves together for a couple hours. You do not want to be responsible for them losing their composure in public.
âŠThough, the image of Jihyo snapping suddenly is pretty attractiveâŠ
No, you scold yourself. Just wait.
It'll be fine.
-
It's summer, so it's hot. It's always hot during the summer.
âŠBut something other than the sun is beaming into you.Â
When you turn your head, you find it to be Jihyo's smouldering gaze, right behind you.
Well, she clearly wants something.
It doesn't take a genius to figure out what that something is; it just takes a girlfriend.
"Jihyo," you warn under your breath.
She groans. "Come on," she draws out, one hand sneaking towards your waist. "There's a bathroom."
"And there's also a bedroom," you counter. "In our house."
"I can be quick," she promises.
"Jihyo,"Â you warn, but you can't help the amused smile on your face. It's impossible to hold back; even when she's not trying to, she makes you laugh.
She sighs dramatically. You grin, tap her nose, and walk away.
-
You're in front of a vending machine, debating buying a drink, when you feel a presence behind you.
You don't even turn around. It's likely one of two people, and you already have a sneaking suspicion which one came to find you. It has to be Jihyo.
"Hi," you greet over your shoulder, a smirk forming on your face.
âŠYou, as it turns out, are wrong.
"I assume you know how insane Jihyo is right now?" Momo asks, her arms looping around your waist from behind. You're pleasantly surprised, and more than happy to hear her.
You hum, leaning back into her. "Kinda figured, yeah," you murmur. Your hands absentmindedly stroke the skin of her arms. "She's been staring at me. And also trying to get me to go to the washroom with her, if you know what I mean. Should I be worried about whether or not I'll be able to walk tomorrow?"
"Oh! No, you don't need to worry," Momo says innocently. "I already know you won't, so there's no need to worry about figuring it out!"
Your laugh comes in the form of an amused snort, your head leaning back to rest on her shoulder as well as it can. "So you're not going to help me?"
"Oh, of course not," she tells you, voice bright. But from the way her hand subtly plays with your waistband⊠you've been dating long enough to know that the innocent tone of her voice is all for show. "I might make it worse, actually."
"Good to know," you sigh, patting her arm. "Okay, we should go, I think. Jihyo probably misses us."
She nods, giving you a final squeeze before removing her arms and backing up. "Let's go," she says, her voice even.
But as she leads you back to the rest of the group, her eyes linger on the exposed part of your stomach, and you know she's more affected than she's letting on.
-
Pretty much as soon as she sees you, the sun burning down onto you, Jihyo all but drags you away from the others.
She pulls you into a secluded room, pressing you to the door and leaning in to kiss you. Her chest rises and falls against yours, breathing heavy.
"Your outfit is driving me nuts," she mumbles into your lips, her nails digging into the bare skin of your shoulders. "Holy shit, you look so goodâ"
"It's just a tank top! Calm down!" you laugh against her, taking one of her hands and squeezing it playfully.
"I can't," she hisses. Her eyes close, and she leans her head forward until it thunks gently against your shoulder. "You're too pretty. I can't handle it. This is torture."
"That is wild, coming from you."
"No, it's just true."
"You literally have your abs on full display at almost every concert," you deadpan. "Momo, too. And I always just have to sit there and watch. Andâ"
A sharp, subtle pain in your shoulder interrupts you.
"Ow!" you hiss out. "Did youâ Jihyo, did you just bite me?"
"I can't help it," she complains, kissing andâ shit, she's licking at the skin to soothe it. Shit, she's hot.
You sigh, and it quivers just a little as she scrapes her teeth over your skin again. "Jihyo..."
You feel her smirk against your skin. "What?" she asks. "Can't I appreciate my girlfriend?"
"Can't you do it without trying to initiate sex in public?"
"Well, I could, but what if I don't want to do it like that?"
You shake your head, huffing out a soft laugh. "You're impossible," you grumble.
She turns her head, pressing her nose into your neck. "I'm in love," she sighs out dramatically.
"You're horny," you correct.
She snorts. "That, I can't argue with."
-
You and Momo head home before Jihyo does. She pouts as you leave, but you already know she'll be more than happy once she gets home.
The drive back to your house is quick and filled with laughter. Your hand is intertwined with Momo's the whole way back. If you were someone else, you'd call yourself a lovesick idiot for how you feel when she looks at you.
But you're not someone else. So, when your chest warms in response to her gentle smiles, you just settle for calling yourself an adoring girlfriend.
-
Jihyo, as it turns out, is not the only horny one in the relationship.
You find this out because, maybe ten minutes after you make it home, Momo is already making out with you messily. To make things worseâbetter,actually, if you're honestâthe two of you are already in bed.
This, of course, means that she is by no means against allowing her lips to start roaming.
Momo presses you into the mattress, lips immediately moving to your collarbone. You tilt your head back on instinct, allowing her access to your neck if she wants it, and she hums appreciatively.
"Do you know how attractive you are?" she murmurs, her lips just barelyleaving your skin in order to get the words out. She travels to your shoulder, peppering quick kisses along the slope of it.
Your hand ghosts across her back, finding the skin revealed by her crop top. "Nowhere near as attractive as you," you snort, fingertips dragging against her sides in the hopes of making her shiver.
Momo stops for a moment, glancing up at you with a quizzical expression. "Are you serious? You literally drive me insane." She kisses your shoulder again, and then moves down to the exposed skin above the neckline of your shirt. "You're so hot. Just ask Jihyo; she's been losing her shit over you all day."
You shake your head as Momo toys with the hem of your shirt. "You're just saying that because you're my girlfriend," you say. You lift yourself to help her while she removes your shirt, shivering beneath her warm hands.
"I'm not a liar," she chides. Her head moves a little lower, mouth meeting the skin just above your breasts.
"I never said that." A breathy, needy sigh escapes you as she finally moves down, wrapping her lips around one of your nipples. "Just that you⊠could be a little biased."
She pulls back for a moment, looking at you like you're insane. "Stop that." She rests a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently, and moves to press a quick kiss to your lips. "I am not biased, you're just hot."
You smile. You're about to say something else, but then her mouth attaches to your other breast, and the words are lost. Whatever you were thinking escapes you with a long, quiet whine.
Momo wastes no time in pulling herself away and moving lower, looking up to lock eyes with you once. "Can I�" she asks, nodding to the space between your thighs.
You nod, lifting your hips. She removes your pants with ease and tosses them somewhere over her shoulder; the location isn't important.
She kisses the inside of your right thigh, and then your left. She lingers there for a moment, smiling into your skin, basking in the position. You groan. Finally, when you reach down to clumsily pat at her shoulder, she moves to where she knows you want her.
The first press of her lips to your soaked cunt sends pleasure jolting through you, eliciting a long, drawn-out moan as she begins to put her tongue to good use.
"Shit," you breathe out, already feeling her starting to work you up. To be honest, she's a little too good at it.
You find your hand twisting into her hair. You don't apply too much pressure, not yet, but you do hold her where she is. You're feeling too good to let her move back; you're already feeling the knot forming in your stomach, winding just a little tighter, and you don't want to let that go.
You don't want to let her go.
Her palms are warm as the come around, holding your thighs just as they begin to quiver the slightest bit. She's focused in her work, in the expert strokes along your slit, tongue dipping inside of you slightly for just a moment before she returns to teasing between your folds.
She knows your body, knows just the perfect speed to go, knows the perfect movements to push and push as your edge draws closer. Her fingers dig into the skin of your thighs, her movements growing quicker just as your breathing and heartbeat do the same. It only lasts a moment, though; the increased speed is almost teasing, before she returns to the tempo she was going at before.
Not that you come down at all when she slows; in fact, you just get closer.
The strokes of her tongue are slow and languid, and you whimper and gasp as she takes your clit into her mouth.
She's almost infuriatingly gentle.
She moans against you, and the vibration runs through you. You mimic the sound, breathing short and fast, as pleasure shoots through you like a shock. You can already feel yourself nearing the edge.
One thought breaks through your lust-fogged haze, though; you manage to force out a strangled, breathy, "Jihyoâ"
Momo hums into you, and your voice breaks into a cracking moan. "She'll have her fun later," she promises lowly against your cunt, her nails leaving small indents in your thighs as she returns to her task with a renewed determination.
She circles your clit with her tongue in teasing, effortless movements, and you moan again. As she carefully sucks, your composure breaks completely.
You come, crying out her name, and the nails digging into your thighs disappear. Her fingers run comfortingly over the slightly-pained indents as your high crashes over, still lapping at you throughout it.
As you come down, you sigh, your body relaxing back into the mattress. Your haand in her hair releases its grip, instead sliding down to cup her cheek and turn her face up towards you.
"Thank you," you mumble, meeting her eyes with a half-lidded gaze. She beams up at you from between your legs, the expression so bright that you can almost forget what she was just doing there.
âŠNo, that's a lie. You can't forget it at all.
She removes herself from your body, shivering lightly as she separates your combined body heat. You shut your eyes, sleepy from the warmth of the day and the intense orgasm, while you wait for her return.
When Momo walks back into the room, you feel her carefully cleaning up the area between your thighs. Usually, you would take a bath, but it seems like both of you have come to the same conclusion; Jihyo will just want to do more, so it's no use.
She spends a short time cleaning you up, and then leaves to throw the towel into the laundry. Upon her return, she shifts you over a little, and then claims the spot right next to you.
When she nudges you, guiding your head to rest on her chest, you allow her to move you with closed eyes and a small smile. Your bare chest presses against her side, laying on your stomach. She presses a tender kiss to the top of your head, her hand rubbing circles into your back, and murmurs a quiet, "You down to take a nap?"
"Absolutely," you respond, not even opening your eyes.
You can't see her smile, but you can hear the soft puff of laughter that comes from her. She tilts her hand, instead running gentle lines across the slope of your back with her nails, and your body melts into hers.
Jihyo will be home soon enough, and you already know you'll need energy for that. So for now, you allow yourself to bask in the relaxation of napping with Momo, and prepare yourself for what will come later.
-
Jihyo returns about two and a half hours after you wake up, once the sky has already darkened.
You and Momo have already eaten dinner, as has Jihyo. The three of you have just been waiting to reunite, the few hours you've spent separated feeling more like years.
You perk up as soon as you hear the door open, already grinning. You pat Momo's shoulder and peek your head around the corner, warmth filling your chest at the sight of Jihyo.
She's placing down her bag. She turns, her expression quickly brightening, and reaches for you.
Momo isn't far behind as you hug and kiss Jihyo as a greeting. You make room for her, watching the two warmly, and then rest your head on Jihyo's shoulder from the side.
"I sure hope you have enough energy," is how Jihyo chooses to greet you. You blush, and she turns to Momo. "Hi, Momo. Miss me?"
Jihyo then turns back to you, taking your face into her hands. "I hope you know we aren't leaving that bed once we get to it," she promises, voice far too sweet for something like that.
You laugh, but you know she's serious. If she really has been losing her mind all day, you already know that, as soon as you let her start, she won't stop.
You just hope you still have enough energy.
-
She's sweet, once she gets you laying down.
Her eyes are warm and dark, a heavy tension of want resting over the three of you as she takes you in. You did put on a sweatshirt and pants after you and Momo woke up, but Jihyo makes quick work of those.
You find yourself shifting as Momo takes a seat, her hands already reaching for your waist. She pulls you towards her while Jihyo ties her hair back, her fingertips running soft lines along your hips.
"You're so pretty," she murmurs in your ear. You know she's just saying it to get you started, but that doesn't stop the shiver that runs down your spine.
Jihyo joins the two of you on the bed, leaning over you with a lopsided smile. "I've been waiting to do this all day," she says, as if you don't know that already.
You tip your head back, just slightly, and look her in the eye. "Then do it," you challenge playfully, shifting just a little.
Jihyo smiles, cupping your cheek. You feel Momo moving beneath your body, and then her arm wraps around you to keep you still.
With Momo holding you, Jihyo lets her hand travel lower. It reaches the space between your thighs, and she presses teasingly.
You whimper, just slightly. She smirks as your breathing begins to pick up a little.
"Momo told me she made you come hard earlier," Jihyo murmurs, her eyes meeting yours through her lashes as her fingers begin to tease. "I hope that didn't take all of your energy. You still need some."
"I have energy," you promise quickly, hips shifting just a little in the hopes of getting a little more feeling where you need it.
"Do you have enough?" she asks. Her fingers grow more insistent, but you aren't complaining; if anything, you're already getting desperate for her to do more.
You nod quickly, only a little bit frantically, and her eyes take in every movement. You want her, you want this, you need this and her and all of it.
Her fingers move around, and she just taps at your entrance. Doesn't go in. Doesn't give you what you want, not yet.
She just⊠taps at it. Once. Then twice.
It's all so underwhelming; too underwhelming. You need more, and you can tell by her expression that she knows that.
One finger dips into you, just for a second, and you whine. Then she pulls it back out, and traces the outline of your entrance with an eager grin.
"Jihyo, please," you find yourself exhaling, clenching and unclenching your fists as she works.
Jihyo glances up at you, gives a smug smirk, and continues her actions.
You pant, eyes squeezing shut. Your hips lift, just slightly, as her fingers circle and tease around your entrance.
"Oh, don't squirm," Momo murmurs, her hand gently running over your abdomen. You feel her head finding its way to your neck, her teeth tracing over the skin before biting and sucking a mark into it. Her arm only tightens around you as your back arches, coincidentally moving away from her.
Before you've recovered from Momo's bite, you feel two of Jihyo's fingers finally push into you.
Your voice breaks over a moan at the combination of feelings, eyes cracking open to take in the sight before you. That choice, however, only serves to fuel the blaze forming through your nerves, because, shit,the sight is hot.
Jihyo is leaning over you, her eyes flicking between her own fingers and your flushed face. When your eyes travel lower, you can see one of Momo's hands tracing shapes into your hip while she holds you against her; the hand that you can't see from your angle, you can feel tracing over your breast, her nails scratching so gently in all the right spots.
Your heart pounds erratically as Jihyo's eyes meet yours, her pupils dilated, her mouth twisted in a smirk. "Having fun?" she asks, voice lowin her throat, as she thrusts into you again.
A breathless moan punches out of you, and she smiles wider.
Momo hums from behind you. "I think she could be having more fun," she purrs. "I think she can handle a third finger. What do you think?"
"I think you're right, Momo," Jihyo agrees, pulling out of you slowly.Â
You whine at the loss, still panting, and she coos. "Oh, don't worry," she soothes. "Just a minute, okay?"
She lifts her fingers to her mouth, opening it to take them inside and sucking. She closes her eyes for a moment, her free hand rubbing circles into your hip, while you begin to catch your breath.
Her eyes open, a newfound shine in them, as she pulls her fingers from her mouth. "Momo, do you want a taste?" she asks, offering up the two fingers that she just licked clean.
Momo laughs from behind you. "I'd love to," she says, as if she hasn't tasted you more times than you can count, "but you just cleaned it all off your fingersâŠ"
"Oh, that's not a problem," Jihyo says brightly, her eyes flicking back down to you.
Part of you wants to question what she means, but with your head spinning like it is, you don't get the chance.
Before you've fully processed her words, and the implication behind them, her fingers push back into you. You whimper, caught off guard, and your eyes roll back as her fingers curl inside of you.
She thrusts in and out one, two, three times. Her eyes are locked on your face when you finally open yours again, and the pure, unfiltered want in her gaze is enough to force another breathy moan out of you.
Then, without warning, she pulls her fingers out again.
"Problem solved," she murmurs, offering her fingers to Momo again. Her eyes finally leave you, now flicking up to meet Momo's.
Now, Momo leans over you as well as she can, taking Jihyo's fingers into her mouth. You watch them as they simply stare at each other, both of their chests heaving slightly.
When she releases Jihyo's fingers from her mouth, Momo smiles widely. "Amazing," she laughs. "ButâŠÂ you know what I think would taste even better?"
"I think I have a hunch," Jihyo teases, looking back at you. A shudder rolls through your body as her attention returns fully to you.
Her hand traces around your inner thighs, slowly, gently. And then her hand finds your core once again.
"Ready?" she asks, her voice even and calm. Much calmer than you, right now.
You nod quickly. Jihyo smiles.
When her fingers thrust into youâthree of them, this timeâyou hiss out at the feeling of them stretching you lightly. Your body adjusts quickly, though, tense against Momo.
Momo herself still keeps her arm wrapped around you, tightening every time you move a little. Her lips return to your skin, mouthing at your neck and your shoulder and the slope between them. You feel her teeth every now and then, and you're sure she's leaving marks that you'll need to cover up, but another thrust from Jihyo tugs those thoughts out of you.
Momo's free hand, eventually, moves to your jaw. She holds it gently, keeping your head tilted just right, the side of her nose brushing against your throat as she kisses and licks along the skin of your neck.
The whole time, Jihyo just keeps thrusting into you, her other hand running along your body and occasionally helping Momo to keep you pinned. Her eyes don't leave you, and the glint in them is dizzyingwhenever you crack your eyes open.
The combination of sensations enveloping you is overwhelming, and you feel yourself nearing the edge very quickly. Not that it's an uncommon thing to feel; Jihyo and Momo are always great at getting you to this point, and fast.
"Fuck," you groan, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes from how tightly you squeeze them. "Oh, fuckâ I'mâ I'm close."
Jihyo hums, and you can hear the smile in her voice, and you're pretty sure you'll kill her if she tries edging you right now.
"What do you think, Momo?" she asks, low and teasing. "Should we let her come?"
"Please," you beg, hoping that maybe it'll sway the decision of the girl behind you.
Momo hums against your neck, but you recognize the tone. You sigh in relief, for a moment; she doesn't sound like she's going to suggest edging you, if you know her. And you'd like to think you know her well.
Sure enough, she finally says, "Well, I think she's been good. I think she deserves it."
Oh, you could cry.
Jihyo lets out a low noise from her throat above you. Her thumb finds your clit, drawing a moan immediately, and swipes back and forth once, then twice.
With a third swipe, another thrust into you, and her lips capturing yours, you tumble over the edge. Your moans are muffled by her mouth as she works you through it, her fingers beginning to slow but staying inside of you for as long as you need.
Slowly, your body begins to relax again. You come down gradually, your chest rising and falling heavily, your body trembling a little.
"âŠShit," you pant.
Jihyo grins, running her hands over your stomach. "How was that?" she asks, her face lingering near yours.
You don't respond. You blink at her, a stupid, lovesick smile growing on your face. "Are you satisfied now?"
"No," she tells you honestly, but she leans away nonetheless.
The two of them give you a few moments to settle down, catching your breath and waiting for your heartbeat to slow. Once you calm down a little, you feel Momo dragging a hand along your arm.
"Think you can handle another round?" she asks, hooking her chin over your shoulder. The teasing tone of her voice is dropped, though, as she adds, "Only if you want."
Her hand travels just a little lower, and a low whine pulls from you. "Momo," you sigh, your body melting back into her. "Yesâ yeah, sure, yesâŠ"
There's a momentary pause, a wordless communication between your two girlfriends. And then Momo, head angled slightly downwards, gives one communicative nod.
Jihyo doesn't seem to need anything else to understand. She gently maneuvers you, murmuring sweet words of praise that you can't process into your ear, until you're situated atop Momo's thigh, your body now facing the opposite direction.
Momo's hands find themselves on your hips, fingers tapping gently in rhythmic strokes. You hiss out a breath as she pulls you down even further, tears forming in your eyes as your bare, sensitive core meets her thigh. She groans at the feeling, and it only serves to make you wetter.
You feel Jihyo's arms slowly snake around your waist, at the same time that Momo begins to guide you to grind down against her thigh.
For a few moments, she's guiding your movements, maneuvering you back and forth along her skin. But once you get into the rhythm of it, she's controlling your movements less and less. Your hand reaches, shakily, and lands on her shoulder for stability.
Jihyo presses gentle kisses to the back of your shoulder, still holding you. Her breath picks up again, and you begin to speed up a little.
You're still feeling very shaky and a little tired from your first orgasm, but your desperation is quickly reviving your energy and stamina.
"Momo," you groan, "Momoâ"
"Keep going," she encourages, grasping at your free hand and lacing her fingers through yours.
You press yourself down harder, a stuttered moan drawing itself from your throat as you speed up. You feel it building up again, gasping, chasing your high.
"Good," Jihyo is praising from behind you. "You can do it. Good girl."
Your head lowers, your hair hanging over Momo's face and shoulder. Your breath comes heavy and fast as you slide back and forth, eyes rolling back once again.
Momo's grip tightens on where she's holding your hips, and she grinds you down harder against her. You cry out, movements growing jagged and frantic as you chase the feeling.
Jihyo's lips press to the back of your neck, and it's the final touch to shove you over the edge. You come with a sob, body collapsing down into Momo as you quiver.
Jihyo comes down with you, and suddenly you're a stack of three. You're sandwiched in the middle, stuck between them as they both try to hold you through it.
At that moment, it seems, an idea strikes Jihyo. You know this because she carefully flips you over, kissing your cheek, and then moves down your body.
"You're so good, so good," she murmurs as she travels, planting herself between your thighs. You can't focus, already lost in pleasure, lost in them, as she prepares herself.
By the time you can even start to come down, you're already feeling her tongue slipping between your folds.
You cry out helplessly, but a shaking hand comes down to hold her head anyway. Your hand tangles in her hair, instinctively pulling her into you.
Momo's hands are roaming, you realize distantly. But your attention is almost immediately pulled back down to Jihyo, who inserts two fingers while her mouth is working.
"Jihyo," you cry out, pretty much gone by now. "Fuck, ohâ"
"Good girl," Momo rasps in your ear. "So good for us. So pretty for us. Come again for us, okay? One more time. You can do it."
You let out a desperate whine, fumbling to hold Momo's hand again. You squeeze it in a white-knuckled grip, tension building and building as Jihyo continues to fuck you.
Jihyo curls her fingers inside of you once, and then another time, and you swear you lose your vision.
Your third orgasm in a row crashes into you hard and fast, and it leaves you gasping as Jihyo helps you ride it out. Momo presses kiss after kiss to your neck, squeezing your hand even when your grip slackens.
You hardly come down before you're talking, just babbling without thinking. "Keep going," you sob out feverishly, "don't stopâ fuck, Jihyoâ"
At your request, she continues. She doesn't seem tired in the slightest; if anything, she moves with more energy than ever, eating you out like she'll never get the chance again, fucking you hard with her fingers the whole time.
Momo just keeps mumbling praises to you, keeps kissing your skin, but you can't even register her words at this point. You're incoherent, whimpering and gasping desperately.
It doesn't take very long for you to come again, nor does it take much effort. All it really takes is Jihyo giving a particularly intense suck to your clit, and a good thrust, and you're gone.
You genuinely lose awareness for a few moments, head falling back against Momo. Her arms wrap around your sides, holding you against herself gently, eyes shining as she watches you.
Jihyo leans away, pulling her fingers out and cooing quietly at the soft whine you let out. She watches your flushed face as you finally begin to come down fully.
Your thighs tremble and twitch as the two of them lay you down, Jihyo slotting herself next to you while Momo wordlessly gets up. She comes back a minute or two laterâthough you hardly notice the time passingâwith a wet cloth, carefully cleaning you up.
Jihyo traces aimless shapes over your bare skin, still mumbling praise to you, holding you gently. Your breathing begins to calm, just a little, as she presses her forehead into your neck. She watches Momo clean you with a wordless kind of affection, hands moving to soothe your twitching, tired body.
By the time you fully return to yourself, both of them are laying down with you, one on either side. Your body feels heavy and weak, all of your energy having gone toâŠÂ that.
"âŠI have never seen you keep going for that long," Momo remarks, wide-eyed.
You groan, long and exhausted. "I didn't know I could do that. You two better not be expecting me to do anything tomorrow morning."
"We'll see how you're feeling," Jihyo promises. Her smile is warm and attentive, as she drags a hand down your body. She slowly pulls the covers over all three of you.
You let your head drop onto her shoulder, your eyes heavy.
"Get some rest," Momo encourages, one of her legs moving to rest over both of yours. "That was intense."
You can't argue; you close your eyes, and when you fall asleep, you're warm and happy.
summary: sophia married for wealth, but what she didn't know was that the greatest treasure that had come with her marriage came in the form of a human, you/an older evil perverted femme preys on you
tags: (legal) age gap, corruption kink, (slight) dacryphilia, fingering, mommy kink, manipulation, noncon -> dubcon, obsession, possessive behaviour, somnophilia, stepcest, slight mentions of virginity being taken, men and minors dni
wordcount: 2.4k
a/n: if you see the tags getting longer ignore it... this fool keeps rereading this and adding new tagsđđ«¶
sophia had never lied to herself about why she married your father. money was simple, and so was stability. a beautiful life was simple. affection, on the other hand, was unpredictable, and far too capable of rearranging things she preferred to keep under control.
so when she moved into the house, she arrived with a plan already formed. she would be kind but also be distant. she would treat you, his daughter, like an obligation rather than anything that required emotional investment. you were old enough not to need her, and that suited her perfectly.
but that was before she had actually seen you.
you were not what she had expected, at all. not childish, or hostile, or dramatic, but quiet and observant in a way that made her feel, uncomfortably, as though she were the one being watched.
you stood in the doorway while your father spoke, hands nervously smoothing down that beautiful white sun dress, your posture rigid, and when your eyes met hers there was no challenge in them, only a kind of unguarded attentiveness that unsettled her more than suspicion ever could.
she felt it then, that small and treacherous shift in her chest, and an interest in you began to bloom.
âyou donât have to be so formal with me,â she said that first evening, her tone light, a practiced smile gracing her features.
âi know,â you quipped, and smiled back, and something about that smile stayed with her far longer than it should have.
at first, she was merely being observant. she noticed the way you leaned against doorframes when you were tired, the way your voice softened when you spoke about things you cared about, the way you listened as if people rarely did. the way you took strands of yoyr hair, plaiting them anxiously when stressed.
these were harmless observations, she insisted, the sort anyone might make when learning the components of a new household.
but observation became something else, something she didn't plan on feeling.
she began to notice when you would be home, when you would pass through certain rooms, when the house felt inexplicably quieter without you in it, when you stomped up the stairs everytime your father would argue with you over small stuff, when you'd blink twice when met with a confusing task.
she found herself timing her evenings to coincide with yours, and when she caught herself doing this, she dismissed it as coincidence with more haste than was strictly necessary.
your father, pleased by the mutual cordial behaviour, was often absent, and when he was present he seemed relieved to see the two of you speaking easily, even laughing occasionally.
âiâm glad youâre getting along,â he said once, with the satisfied tone of a man who believes his life is arranging itself correctly.
âof course,â sophia replied, and meant it, although not in the way he assumed.
months later, when he left for his extended business trip, the house changed. the first few nights passed without incident. then sophia began to feel the silence.
she knocked on your door one evening, a glass of wine in her hand, emboldened by the fragrant liquor.
âare you busy?â she asked, a light flush creeping up her neck. the door opened and her heart missed a beat, her eyes sweeping over your body, over the lacy nightgown that left nothing to her imagination.
ânot really,â you said, hastily stepping aside to let her see into your room. âwhy?â
âno reason,â she said, and smiled. âkeep me company for a bit. this house has a habit of feeling too large.â
you hesitated, only briefly, before following her, and from then on, it became routine.
you sat together in the evenings, sometimes talking, sometimes not, sometimes close enough that you could feel the warmth of her through the thin space between your bodies.
she began touching you in ways that were easy to dismiss and difficult to refuse, a hand at your wrist when she wanted your attention, fingers resting briefly at your shoulder, her palm at your lower back when she guided you through a doorway.
you noticed but didn't comment, for fear of the first real experience of care in your life being taken from you.
âyouâre very easy to be around,â she said one night, watching you over the rim of her glass.
âis that a good thing?â you asked, a grin appearing on your face.
she smiled, slow and unreadable. âit can be.â
sometimes she would look at you for longer than conversation required, her gaze thoughtful, almost proprietary.
âwhat?â you asked once, shifting under it in embarrassment.
âiâm just thinking,â she replied calmly. âyou have no idea how much presence you have.â the way she said it made heat rise uncomfortably along your neck.
the night she asked you to sleep in her room, the rain was loud enough to justify anything.
âi canât sleep,â she said, standing in your doorway in a silk robe that was far too deliberate to be incidental. âiâm feeling rather lonely tonight.â
âdo you want me to stay and talk?â you asked, half jokingly.
she regarded you for a moment, then said softly, âi was hoping you would.â
you told yourself it was harmless⊠you told yourself many things.
you lay on opposite sides of the bed at first, the space between you careful and deliberate, until she turned slightly and her fingers brushed yours, and did not move away.
âyouâre warm,â she said quietly.
after that, it became normal. as normal as brushing your teeth, as normal as wind through the trees.
she began changing in front of you without much concern, feeling successful when she could feel your hesitant gaze raking over her sun-kissed skin, began sitting too close, began speaking to you in a voice reserved for lovers rather than family.
âyou understand me better than anyone else in this house, you know that, darling?â she said once.
âbetter than my father?â you asked quietly, a shiver running down your spine from the pet name.
her smile was slow, sharp teeth peeking through her red lips. âespecially better than him.â
she never crossed a line that could be easily named, but she stood close enough that your thoughts became unreliable, and she looked at you in a way that made it difficult to remember who was supposed to have control. slowly, without realizing it, you began to belong more to her than to yourself.
by the time sophia realized she was in love with you, the word itself had already become meaningless in her mind.
love, to her, no longer meant patience or restraint or choice. it meant how close you were to one another. it meant free access. it meant the quiet and terrifying certainty that something belonged to her simply because she wanted it badly enough.
it meant that she wanted to be with you so bad, if she could eat you so that you truly became one, she would've a long time ago.
your fatherâs absences had started to feel less like interruptions and more like permissions.
she watched you constantly now, not with the casual attention she once allowed herself, but with a focus that felt deliberate and consuming, as if she were memorizing you in preparation for something you had not agreed to be part of.
you noticed the change, though you could not have named it. she stood closer. she touched more. she looked at you longer. she loved more.
and she began to ask for things.
âsay it,â she murmured one evening, her hand resting lightly at your waist as you stood in the kitchen.
âsay what?â you asked, already uneasy.
she smiled, slow and indulgent. âmommy.â
you laughed at first, because it sounded ridiculous, because it sounded like a joke, because you did not yet understand that she was not joking at all.
âjust for fun,â she said. âhumor me.â
you did it once, awkward and embarrassed, and the look on her face was not amusement but something far more intent.
after that, she began to attach the word to rewards.
âbe good and ask properly,â she would say, when you wanted something simple, a favor, the keys to her car, her help with something trivial.
and when you hesitated, she would tilt her head, fake pouting and say, âdonât you want to make mommy happy?â
she started pulling you into her space more openly, guiding you down into her lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world, her arms around you, her chin near your shoulder, holding you there longer than comfort required.
âyouâre so tense,â she would murmur. âyou should let me take care of you.â
you told yourself this was strange but harmless⊠you told yourself many things.
when your father left again, the house did not feel empty. it felt sealed, and that was when sophia stopped pretending.
she began coming into your room without knocking, sitting on your bed as if it were hers, touching your hair, your face, your hands, with a tenderness that felt loaded with innuendo rather than innocent.
âyou donât need anyone else,â she said one night, her thumb brushing your cheek. âi take care of you. i always have. just you and mommy, hmm?â
something in her voice made your stomach tighten. you opened your mouth to whisper. âjust me and mommy.â you watched as the sharp teeth began to make an appearance once again, her smile widening with⊠you werenât sure.
and so you started trying to create distance, but she noticed. she did not like it.
âyouâre pulling away,â she said coldly, an accusation.
âiâm just tired,â you lied. she exhaled, and smiled at you in a way that did not reach her eyes. âthen you should rest.â
that night, you went to sleep with the door closed, but it didnât stay that way.
you donât remember waking up, but you remember the sensation of something being wrong before you remembered anything else.
the moonlight casts a strange shadow across the bedroom as your eyes flutter open, still heavy with sleep.
at first, the warm wetness between your thighs felt like a dream, until a sharp gasp escaped your lips as sophia's fingers pushed deeper inside you, her breathing coming in soft, deliberate pants against your neck, her other hand gripping your hip to steady herself.
the silk sheets rustled beneath you as she moved closer, her teeth grazing your ear as she whispered.
âi've been waiting so long to taste you properly, y/n.â
your body arches instinctively against her touch, your hands clutching the pillow you were laying on for support as waves of conflicting pleasure and terror crash over you.
âsophiaâŠ? get off m-â her mouth met yours before you could finish speaking, cutting off your protests with a soft warning.
her weight pressed you into the mattress, her body hot against yours, and her knee slid between your thighs. you could taste the salt of your skin on her tongue, the faint muskiness of the white wine from her morning drinking.
sophiaâs fingers inside you thrusted in slow but hard strokes, not giving you time to think. your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more friction even as you tried to push her away.
âshhh," she murmured, places soft kisses across your jaw, cooing as she saw the tears running down your face.
seeing her step daughter laying before her, clothes tussled, shaking and sobbing, and in so much vulnerability filled her with⊠a strange feeling. she liked it.
âit's okay, my sweet angel.â
your breath came in short, jagged bursts against her cheek, your chest rising and falling so fast it feels like your ribs might crack.
sophia didn't seem to notice, or if she does, she didnt care, her thumb continuing to massage your clit, while her other hand stayed buried inside you, every movement managing to pull something raw and desperate out of you.
ây/n, baby, have you done this before? you're soaked.â she let out a low chuckle when you shook your head tearfully.
âof course. only i can touch you this way.â you were embarrassed to find that the wetness between your legs grew at that.
the slick sound of her fingers moving, amplified in the silence of the room made something twist in your stomach, shame, or hunger, or maybe both.
you try to push her off again, but your limbs don't obey, instead opting for squeezing your eyes shut, praying that this was just an extremely vivid dream, but sophia didn't allow it.
the room filled with the damp slap of skin, your gasps and mewls, the wet squelch of fingers buried inside you. her grip tightened, her nails digging into your hip as she increased her pace.
âmo⊠sophiaâŠâ
you felt her smile against your cheek at the slip up, her tongue dragging across the shell of your ear as she growled, âthat's it, baby, call me mommy.â
your body betrayed you, hips bucking into her touch, a guttural moan tearing from your throat. sophia hummed in satisfaction, her fingers curled deeper and deeper, thumb pressing down on your clit with a desire to see more of those innocent tears falling out of your eyes.
âsay it,â she demanded, teeth sinking into your neck as she rode you closer to the edge.
your breath hitched as sophia's fingers plunged into you again, her thumb pressing just right against your clit.
the word clung to your tongue like fire, burning before they even leave your mouth, a singular tear exiting your eye before they both close in defeat.
âmommy,â you gasp, breaking on the last syllable.
the moment the title spills from your lips, your body shattered, and sophia groaned in satisfaction.
the orgasm crashed through you like a storm surge, overwhelming you instantly, and your back arched off the mattress, fingers scrabbling for purchase against sophia's back as your thighs clamped around her hand.
a scream tears from your throat, hoarse and raw, the sound swallowed by the thick air of the bedroom.
when you woke in the morning, the room was empty, the door closed. your body felt unfamiliar in a way that made bile rise in your throat.
and when sophia came down to breakfast, she looked at you with a satisfied tenderness, and a flicker of amusement in her eyes that made your blood run cold.
âgood morning, sweetheart,â she said softly. âdid you sleep well?â you couldn't answer.
she reached out and buried her fingers over the crown of your head, possessive.
âdonât look so frightened,â she murmured. âyouâre safe with mommy. you always will be.â
context. (inspired by the housemaid) youâre on the hunt for a housemaid job during the winter break insisting to your parents that you needed to make some quick money for christmas. mrs. avanzini immediately is drawn by your innocence and thinks youâll be perfectly fit to help around the house. a pretty accessory to the property.
contents. milf!daniela, fem!reader, age gap (daniela is 33 & reader is 22), cheating, swearing, smut, tensions is INSANE, reader is low-key shy, inappropriate âworkplaceâ
track. bad as the rest â jessie murph
anonâs ask. âsomething like the housemaid book but with milf danielaâ
the estate's exterior wasâŠimpressive, to say the least. the mansion was huge, with a modern facade, though still holding hints of a traditional design. multiple vehicles are visible at various points of the sprawling property, clearly each belonging to someone or one person, though you pay no mind to them as you shut the engine of your car. you're here to work, after all.
exiting the vehicle with your resume in hand, you begin the walk up the cobblestoned driveway, the snow crunching beneath your feet.
the front door opens before you even reach the stepsâwarm light spills onto the snow, and there she is.
daniela avanzini, wrapped in a cashmere robe that barely hides her silk slip, one hand on the doorframe, eyes scanning you like she already knows your favorite color. âyouâre earlier than i expected,â she says, voice low. âcome in. youâll freeze out here.â
the air inside is thick with vanilla and something spicierâher perfume? maybe wine? or just power?
âiâm mrs. avanzini,â she adds as you step over the threshold, toeing off your uggs without waiting for an invitation. âbut you can call me daniela⊠since weâll be spending so much time together.â
she smilesâslow, knowingâand takes your resume without looking at it. drops it on a side table like itâs irrelevant.
âletâs skip the formalities,â she purrs. âdo you follow rules well?â
you were still in shock and awe at danielaâs beauty that you realized you never introduced yourself as soon as the door opened. mentally cursing yourself and shaking your head with a smile.
âi-iâm sorry maâam. iâm y/n,â you told as a blush spread across your cold cheeks, holding out your hand for her to shake, âand yes maâam i follow rules extremely well.â
for the most partâŠ
her eyes narrow, amusement dancing in them as her gaze lingers over your flushed face for a moment. she takes your hand, skin warm against yours. her grip is firm, dominant.
"y/n," she repeats, slow, like she's savoring the taste of your name. the way her tongue curls around your syllables makes you shiver.
"pretty."
thereâs an edge to her words, a silent command. she hasn't let go of your hand yet, thumb lightly tracing the pulse point on your wrist.
you werenât sure if you should let go first or if she should but knowing that usually people with this kind of money like to be in power, you assumed that putting yourself in place and letting go of her hand first was the right thing to do.
so you did.
you let go of her soft hand gently, your nails ghosting over her knuckles lightly.
her hand lingers for half a second too long, even after you pull awayâlike sheâs testing whether youâd really dare break contact first.
then, slowly, she folds her arms across her chest, lips curling. âyouâre polite. i like that.â a beat. âbut donât maâam me all day. makes me feel old⊠and we both know iâm not that much older than you.â
she takes a step back, letting the robe slip slightly off one shoulder as she turns toward the grand staircase. snow glows through the tall windows behind her like stage lights.
âcome on, y/n,â she says over her shoulder, voice honeyed but firm. âiâll show you your room⊠and then weâll see just how well you follow rules when no oneâs watching.â
like a spell, you began following behind her, gripping your bag tighter. almost too tight.
âyes maâa- i- i mean⊠mrs. avanzini.â
she gives a low, almost guttural sort of soundâhalfway between a laugh and a sigh. she was good at making people flustered, and you were a prime example of that. the way you stumbled over your words, blushed so easily⊠you were too cute, too gullible. this was going to be fun.
when you reach the top of the stairs, she leads you down a carpeted hallway. she pauses outside a door, hand hovering over the knob.
âthis will be yours while you stay here⊠if you do a good job, that is.â
she pushes open the door, revealing a decently-sized guest room. a canopy bed with a plush comforter, dark wood furniture, a walk-in closet, a private bathroom with a clawfoot tubâŠ
it wasn't lavish, but it was comfortable, and much more luxurious than your tiny college dorm. daniela stands in the doorway, watching as you take in the space. her arms are crossed again, and her gaze feels almost predatory. like she's sizing you up, deciding on something.
âthis is so pretty,â you said quietly, peering out the window above the desk which peered out to the expansion of the property. there was a greenhouse, a courtyard, a pool, and more cliche rich people exteriors.
âthe views gorgeousâŠâ
âmm,â she hums, stepping closer behind you, her presence warm at your back. âiâve always thought the real beauty is in what goes unseen.â
her fingers brush the curtain asideâjust slightlyâand for a moment, you wonder if sheâs talking about the garden⊠or something else. then she turns, hips grazing your arm as she moves toward the bed and perches on the edge like a queen claiming her throne.
âyou can unpack later,â she says, voice smooth. âfirst⊠letâs go over house rules. no phones in private areasâbedrooms, my study, the greenhouse after dark.â
pause. a slow blink.
ââŠespecially after dark.â
she watches you carefully nowâthe way your breath hitches just slightlyâand smirks.
âand when i ask for something? you bring it immediately. no questions. can you do that for me⊠y/n?â
âof course i can do all those things with ease for you maâam,â you responded before you did a double take at the woman on the bed, âunpack? iâm hired? already?â
oh, you really were naiveâŠ
her smirk deepens, eyes glinting in the soft lamplight. she pats the bed, motioning for you to sit near herâand of course, because she expects immediate obedience, you oblige.
âyou are hired,â she confirms, shifting so she can lean back on one hand, facing you. she watches your every move. the robe slips even lower down her other shoulder, almost teasing now. âi made up my mind as soon as you walked in.â
you let your eyes wander for a split second before slitting your eyes back to hers, your head starting to grow dizzy at her eye contactâalmost siren-like.
before you could thank her a little girl started to call out, âmommy!â
ironicâŠ
the child's voice cuts through the air like a knife, jolting you both out of the tense moment. daniela's expression softens for a fraction of a secondâjust long enough for you to noticeâbefore she's standing and striding out into the hallway.
you hear her greet the girl, their voices too low to understand. her tone is different, but no less commanding.
a minute later, she returns, a little girl wrapped around her thigh. she's about five or so, with curly black hair and big dark eyes.
you could tell the little girl was shy by the way she grasped her tiny little hands around danielaâs leg.
peering around danielaâs hip to make eye contact with you, examining you and the way you dressed. you gave her a soft smile and got off the bed, only taking a few steps and kneeling down to be at the same eye level as her.
âhi sweetheart, whatâs youâre name?â
silenceâŠ
âwell my name is y/n. youâre mommy mentioned she had a daughter over the phone,â standing up off your knees and rummaging through your bag to pull out a build-a-bear, âso i come bearing gifts⊠only if itâs okay with your mommy.â
daniela watches you with a mix of surprise and something unreadableâlike she didnât expect you to actually care. her daughter, valentina, peeks out from behind her leg again, eyes wide on the bear.
âthatâs⊠thoughtful,â daniela murmurs, voice quieter now. âshe doesnât usually warm up to people so fast.â
she places a hand on valentinaâs head, fingers carding gently through curls. âsweetheart⊠can y/n give you the bear?â
silence stretches.
thenâa tiny nod.
as soon as the stuffed animal is in valentinaâs arms, she hugs it tightly to her chest and hides again.
daniela laughs softlyâreally laughsâand it does things to your stomach that shouldnât be allowed by law.
âwelcome aboard,â she says, voice warmer now but still laced with that dangerous edge. âi have a feeling this break is going to be⊠unforgettable.â
~
daniela has gone out to run errands about an hour ago, leaving you and her daughter to spend some time together. letting valentina help you by handing you your clothes, often getting distracted by your clothing items and asking you what occasions you wear it for.
curious questions youâd expect from a little girl.
valentina sits cross-legged on your bed, surrounded by folded laundry. she holds up a black miumiu sweaterâyour favorite oneâwith wide eyes.
âdo you wear this when it snows?â she asks, voice small but curious.
âyes,â you say, smiling as you slide another stack of clothes into the drawer. âitâs super warm. perfect for days like today.â
she nods seriously, placing the sweater in the pile like itâs top secret mission gear. thenâa sudden shift in focus. she picks up your silky burgundy camisole and tilts her head.
ââŠdoes mommy have pajamas like this?â
your face flames.
before you can stammer out a response, valentina blinks up at you and adds:
âmommy wears these too⊠theyâre always black though.â
as if that settles it completelyâthe mystery solvedâshe folds the camisole with intense concentration and hands it to you like nothing happened.
you glance at the door half-expecting daniela to walk in right at that moment⊠and judging by how warm your neck feels?
youuâd be embarrassed beyond belief.
but also... weirdly turned on?
no no noâ
breathe.
you clear your throat, stacking the folded clothes a little too quickly. âuhâyeah. blackâs⊠very elegant.â
valentina hums in agreement, already moving onâbecause kids do thatâand pulls out a pair of your ankle socks patterned with tiny strawberries.
âdo these make your feet happy?â she asks, dead serious.
you snort. âthe happiest. theyâre my good luck socks.â
she grins thenâsmall, shyâbut real. and suddenly, it hits you: this wasnât just a job anymore.
it was something softer.
something dangerous.
because when daniela did walk in laterâsnow dusting her coat, cheeks flushed from the coldâyouâd be folding those same socks again⊠and youâd catch her staring at you from the doorway like she wanted to peel every layer off and see whatâs underneath.
but for now?
you play along.
âvalentina,â you say gently, tucking a curl behind her ear. âwanna help me pick out what to wear for dinner tonight?â
her eyes light up like sheâs been given full authority over fashion at versace.
âpick out my outfit,â you softly ask with a smile before rubbing her temple, âwhile i ask your mommy what sheâd like to eat.â
valentina nods seriously, like the task was of the utmost importance. you can practically see the gears turning in her little genius brain as her eyes flit over the clothes in your closet.
you pad downstairs, finding daniela at the kitchen counter. her back is to you, head ducked as she types something on her phone. she hasn't noticed you yet, and you take a moment to admire herâthe curve of her shoulder, the arch of her neckâŠ
she must've just showered. the scent of her skin hangs in the air; vanilla and something sharper.
you knock on the archway that leads into the separate section of the house, daniela looking up from her phone then back down at her phone.
âwhat would you like to eat for dinner maâam?â
she takes a moment to respond. her thumbs move swiftly across the screen, tapping out a message before she finally sets her phone down. when she looks up at you, her gaze is calculating, searching.
for a moment, you wonder if she saw you admiring her.
but then she smilesâa slow tilt of her lips into something sharp but not quite mean. âi don't really care⊠whatever you and valentina want is fine with me.â
she stands then, leaning back against the counter. the movement hikes her dress up slightly.
a ball of nervousness catching in your throat before quickly swallowing it down.
stop it sheâs your boss for crying out loudâŠ
âwill your husband be home tonight?â
a reasonable question. you needed to know how many people youâd be cooking for tonight.
daniela shakes her head, and somethingâalmost imperceptibleâflashes in her eyes. a muscle in her jaw clenches.
âno⊠it's just us tonight. my husband is out of town on business.â
it's just us.
her gaze trails down your figure, like she's deciding something, then snaps back up to meet your eyes.
âhe won't be back until late tomorrow⊠so we have the house all to ourselves.â
you nodded slowly as you fiddled with your fingers behind your back, before nodding quickly with a smile.
âperfect. iâll go see what masterpiece val picked out for me tonight and iâll bring cooking.â
you turn to leave, but her voice stops youâlow, smooth like velvet.
âval, huh?â she says, the word dripping with amusement. âyouâre already giving her nicknames?â
you freeze, then glance back over your shoulder. sheâs watching you with that same unreadable expressionâlike sheâs trying to solve a puzzle only she knows the pieces to.
âshe likes it,â you offer weakly.
daniela pushes off the counter and takes one slow step forward. then another. until sheâs closeâclose enough that you can smell her perfume again, something warm and intoxicating.
âjust be careful,â she murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. âshe doesnât usually let people in so fast⊠especially not ones who make her mommy stare at them like theyâre dessert.â
thenâa sharp smile. playful. dangerous.
âyouâre dismissedâŠâ
you practically run upstairs.
valentina has laid out three outfits (like any proper stylist would) on the bed, each one more daring than the last.
there's a little note in her handwriting that simply says pick one please.
there's a black mini dress, a soft pink wrap sweater with matching satin shorts, and a high-necked black slip dress.
you bite your lip, staring at the options.
a low, amused voice comes from behind you.
âsomeoneâs in trouble," daniela murmurs, leaning against the doorway.
you jump softly at danielaâs voice before clearing your throat and smiling at valentina, âhow about mommy picks.â
was this inappropriate? yes.
but daniela had been pushing you to the limits so if thatâs the kind of workplace environment she wanted to create? then so be it.
danielaâs eyebrow liftsâslow, deliberateâas if youâve just played the first real move in a game sheâs been waiting to lose.
âme?â pick your outfit?â she steps forward, voice dropping into something silkier. âcareful, y/n⊠i donât play fair.â
valentina looks up between the two of you, blissfully unaware of the tension crackling in the air like static before a storm.
daniela circles you onceâjust onceâher gaze trailing from your messy bun down to your bare feet and back up again. then she stops behind you, close enough that her breath ghosts over your shoulder.
âthe slip dress,â she says softly. âbut take out the camisole underneath.â
your pulse jumps.
âitâll be cold,â you whisperânot an excuse, just a fact.
she smiles against your ear before pulling away.
âthen iâll make sure to keep you warm later.â
that was where you cossed the line. not that you wanted it to stop but you were going to be here for a while and you wanted to make sure you werenât crumbling every second of this job.
you boldly took danielaâs hand and took her out the room, shutting the door behind you.
âwith all due respect maâam what is your goal here?â
daniela doesnât pull her hand away. in fact, she turns itâpalms up between youâand laces your fingers together like itâs the most natural thing in the world.
âyouâre bold,â she murmurs, eyes locked on yours. âi like that. most people here are too afraid to question me.â
a beat.
âbut letâs be honest⊠you already know what this is.â her thumb brushes over your knuckles, slow and deliberate. âyou felt it the second i opened that door. when i dropped your resume like it meant nothing⊠because we both knew this wasnât about cleaning or cooking.â
she leans inâjust slightlyâclose enough that her next words graze your lips instead of your ears.
âi want to see how long you can pretend this is just a job.*â
ânow go change into the dress, y/n. valentina picked out dinner too: grilled cheese and tomato soup.â
a smile tugs at her mouth.
âcut the crusts off for her⊠and maybe iâll reward you with something sweet after.â
you closed your eyes and let out a big sigh, âstop it.â
you opened your eyes to look at daniela and gave her an almost angry look.
âstop.â
her expression freezes, eyes searching yours with that sharp gaze. sheâs used to people giving in, not snapping.
she steps back from you, but doesnât break your gaze.
âstop what?â she asks, and the fact that she sounds genuinely confused only pisses you off more.
âexactly that,â you sayâmaybe a little harsher than you intended. you gesture between the two of you. âthe flirting⊠the touching⊠the teasing. itâs not fair. and you know it.â
she blinksâonce, slowlyâand for the first time, there's no smirk. no power play. just a flicker of something real: surprise? guilt?
âyou think i donât know that?â she says quietly, voice low nowâraw. âyou think this is easy for me?â
she glances toward the bedroom doorâvalentinaâs soft humming still drifting through itâthen back at you.
âi havenât felt⊠anything like this in years,â she admits, jaw tight. âand yes, maybe iâm being unfair. maybe iâm crossing lines⊠but youâre not some random girl to me.â
a pause.
then softer:
âyou walked into my house like you belonged hereâand somehow⊠it didnât feel wrong.â
she takes one step closerânot touching, not tryingâbut her presence is heavy again.
âso if you want me to stop⊠say it again.â
not a command this time.
a plea.
âsay âstopâ and i will.â
you didn't respond to the woman in front of you, instead you opened the door to your now room while keeping eye contact, "val, sweetheart can you go with your mom while i get changed?"
valentina looks up from her coloring book, eyes moving from you, to daniela, to the tension in the room, then back to you. a kid isn't stupid. she can sense that something has changed.
âokay,â she says softly, climbing off the bed and padding over to daniela, who takes her hand without looking away from you.
they leave without another word, the door clicking shut behind them. you're alone⊠but everything feels like itâs been flipped on its axis.
you breathe out a heavy sigh as you look at the dress that daniela picked out for you. a hot warmth spreading all around your body at the thought of wearing just for her because she picked it out.
the silk of the dress is cool against your skin as you slip it on. it's simpleâalmost too simpleâbut it hugs every curve. you smooth a hand down over your hip, imagining what daniela's eyes would look like raking over you in it. you turn on the spot, watching the hem fall mid-thigh, the neckline just a bit daring without being too revealing.
it fits.
so.
goddamn. well.
you wonder if she knew it'd fitâif she'd had you measured up ever since you walked in.
and so you wear it. just how she intended me to. nothing underneath.
you take it off before hopping in the shower and trying to let the hot water wash away all the desires that pricked on your skin. trying to get daniela's eyes out your mind.
your hand starting to trail down your hot body... between your legsâŠ
no y/n, fucking stop...
the water rains down around you, but no matter how much you scrub, the thought of daniela never fully washes away. in the back of your mind, you can still feel her gaze. the way her eyes darkened when they flickered down your figure. you can still hear her voiceâlow, steady, and oh-so-delicious. you can almost taste it on your tongue.
the water is getting cold now⊠but you still have to go out there⊠and have dinner with her and valentina.
and so you get out. you get ready. for her.
you curl your hair in a way that compliments your body in the dress your boss picked out for you. you apply bronzer while doing your makeup to show a stark contrast to the snow outside. make you appear warm.
for her.
you catch your reflection in the mirrorâyour skin glowing, lips slightly parted, curls spilling like dark silk over one shoulder.
you look expensive.
desired.
like someone worth coveting.
and worst of all?
you did this for her.
the dress hugs you like a secret. no bra. no underwear. just the whisper of fabric against bare skin every time you moveâthe kind of sensation that makes your breath hitch when you think about who put it there.
downstairs, laughter floats up from the kitchenâvalentinaâs high-pitched giggle, danielaâs deeper hum in response.
theyâre already bonding over grilled cheese sandwiches and silly stories while snow falls quietly outside⊠and here you are, trembling not from coldâbut from how badly you want to be part of it.
to belong to her.
you close your eyes.
"just get through dinner," you whisper to yourself. "just get through tonight."
but deep down?
you already knowâyou won't be able to stop yourself much longer.
you walked into the kitchen undetected, opening the pantry and grabbing an apron as well as the other ingredients to start the food for the mother and daughter.
valentina sits at the kitchen island, legs swinging as she reads a book. daniela is at the stove, stirring something that smells downright heavenly.
your footsteps stop them, daniela turning to look at you first, her gaze roaming over the dress like a low brush of velvet.
valentina looks up as well, eyes widening.
âyou look like a princess,â she says, matter-of-fact.
daniela swallows.
hard enough for you to hear it.
"i suppose that makes you the queen," you smile at valentina as you set down the ingredients on the counter, tying on your apron around your waist and picking up your hair carefully with a clip.
you turned to daniela and then back toward the ingredients, "i'll take over."
daniela looks like she wants to say something. to argue. to order you to let her continue. she doesn't.
instead, she moves without a word, stepping aside to let you take over the stove.
from the corner of your eye, you see her hands tighten into fistsâher jaw flexesâand you can almost hear the words she's holding back.
mine.
then, valentina breaks the silence, like a kid blissfully unaware of the tension in the air.
âcan i help?â
dismissing the tension deeply pitted in your stomach, you offer a soft smile at daniela's daughter.
"of course you can."
valentina scrambles off the stool, her little feet padding across the tile as she grabs a tiny stepstool from the cornerâclearly hersâand plops it beside you.
âi help mommy every time,â she says proudly, folding her hands in front of her like a proper assistant. âi can stir⊠and taste⊠and set the table!â
you smile down at her, heart doing this weird lurch thing it really shouldnât.
âperfect. then today, youâre head taste-tester.â
you tear off a small piece of bread for toasting later and hand it to her. she pops it into her mouth with exaggerated seriousness.
âcrunchy enough?â you ask.
she nods sagely. âneeds cheese.â
ânoted.â
from behind youâso close nowâyou feel danielaâs presence again. not touching, but near enough that when she speaks, the air shifts.
âshe only lets me be taste-tester after dinner,â daniela murmursâlow, possessiveâand your hands still mid-movement as you reach for butter.
you donât turn around.
you donât look at her.
but god⊠that voice does something to your spine.
valentina doesnât notice any of it.
thank god valentina doesn't notice any of it.
"well," you say finally âvoice only slightly shaky â"better get cooking before i lose my job."
the rest of the process is almost painfully domestic.
she brushes against you on the way, slow and deliberate. not an accident, just an âoh i accidentally pressed my body against yours in the tight space of the kitchen.â
god.
sheâs driving you mad.
the soup is ready within twenty minutes. the bread is toastedâand cheese has been added generously by valentinaâand the three of you are sat around the table. the room is quiet at first as you start eating, the only sound the clinking of your silverware.
that is⊠until valentina breaks the silence, looking at you with big, wide eyes.
âdo you have a boyfriend?â
you choke on your lemonade before recovering with a shy laugh, "no. not anymore."
that answer seems to spark curiosity in the little girl.
valentina sets her spoon down, a little soup spilled on her chin.
âwhy not anymore?â she asks, and god, she has the tactlessness of a child: sweet, but totally lacking in social norms.
daniela laughs warmly, reaching over to wipe the soup with a napkin.
âval, thatâs a bit of a personal question to ask,â she murmurs.
"it's okay mrs. avanzini," you reassured before you set down your glass and set your arms on the table, "we both decided that going to different colleges would've been extremely tough and we broke up."
if anything, that just fuels valentina's curiosity more.
âdifferent colleges? you couldn't have stayed together?â she asks, still with that same innocence.
you bite back a soft laugh. it's not her fault she doesn't understand the intricacies of long distance dating.
âsome people think being apart is too hard,â you explain as gently as possible. "we'd miss each other too much."
valentina seems to think this over. then:
âcouldn't you just talk to them on the phone every day? or see them during breaks?â
you open your mouth to respond, but daniela cuts in, her voice gentle but firm.
âval, that's enough. eat your dinner.â
the little girl huffs, pouting⊠but she obeys nonetheless, picking up her spoon again.
you look up at daniela momentarily before looking back down at your soup and cracking your neck to try a release some of the tension in your body. sighing softly after before picking your glass back up and bringing it to your lips.
daniela glances at you, eyes narrowing slightly. she noticed the tension in your shoulders. noticed your sighâŠ
noticed the way you let your head fall back against the chair, exposing your slender neckâthe skin glistening like goldâlike you were just asking for someone to kiss and bite and claim it.
her eyes stay on you a beat longer before turning to valentina.
âval. no elbows on the table. manners.â
the rest of the meal passes like that, with brief moments of tension.
daniela glances at you.
you catch her eyes with a sharp inhale.
valentina eats happily, oblivious to the chemistry in the air and the heat it sparks.
eventually, even her questions die down into yawns.
âmama, iâm tired,â she mumbles as she picks up her dishes.
daniela glances at a clock on the wall with faint surprise.
âit's past your bedtime, sweetheart. go brush your teeth.â
"don't worry you can put her to bed," you say as you stood up from the chair, smoothing out the dress and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "i'll clean up here."
danielaâs eyes lock onto yoursâdark, intense, like youâve just handed her a challenge wrapped in kindness.
âyou donât have to do that,â she says quietly. âthis is part of your job.â
âi know,â you reply, voice steady, âbut i want to.â
the words hang between you: soft, dangerous.
valentina gives a sleepy wave before padding out of the kitchen with her stuffed bear tucked under one arm.
and then⊠itâs just the two of you.
alone at last.
the air thickens instantlyâthe kind of quiet where every breath feels amplified. the clink of your spoon against the bowl is almost too loud. daniela doesnât move from her seat right away, just watches as you start stacking dishes with careful hands.
finallyâ
âyouâre making this really hard for me,â she murmurs, voice lowâalmost pained.
you freeze mid-motion.
âwhat?â
she stands slowly⊠deliberately⊠closing the distance until sheâs standing behind you at the sink, close enough that when she speaks again?
her breath ghosts over your ear:
âacting like this isn't affecting me.â
you donât move.
canât.
her breath is warm, your skin alight. the water runs over dishes in the sinkâmechanical motionâbut your body? itâs humming.
âi donât know what you mean,â you whisper, voice unsteady.
she laughsâsoft, darkâand leans in even closer.
âyou do,â she says simply. âyou have to.â
one hand reaches past youâto turn off the tap.
then it stays there. on top of yours.
âyou wore the dress.â
âyou did everything i asked.â
âand now⊠you're cleaning for me. like it means something.â
her fingers tighten slightly over yours.
âso don't stand there and pretend this is just a job⊠when we both knowââ
a loud thud from upstairs cuts her off.
valentina calls out sleepily: "mamaaaa⊠light."
daniela exhales sharply through her noseâfrustratedâbut steps back without another word.
she turns toward the door⊠then pauses at the frame, not looking back as she speaks:
"finish up when you can."
then she's goneâwith one last glance at your trembling handsâand leaves you standing in silence, heart pounding like someone had just set fire to your chest and called it love.
you let out a slow exhale.
jesus.
your hands are shaking as you scrub at the plates, your brain replaying the last few minutes on a loopâthe way daniela had watched you with those dark eyes. the low, possessive tone of her voice. the way she held your hand at the sinkâŠ
her touch still feels like an invisible brand.
you finish up with the dishes quickly, putting them away and wiping down the counters. after, you head back upstairs to your room to grab a change of clothesâbut a soft noise stops you.
a low noise.
the sound is coming from daniela's study. a low, rhythmic noiseâalmost like⊠breathing?
you're not sure what pushes you forward. curiosity? concern?
whatever it is, it has you creeping toward the partially-opened door.
inside, the room is dimly lit from lamps in the corner; the curtains drawn against the snowstorm outside.
you peer into the room through a crack in the door⊠and freeze.
oh.
god.
the room suddenly feels ten degrees hotter.
daniela is sitting in the leather chair, eyes shut and head tilted back.
her hand is between her legs, moving in slow, languid motions.
she looks almost as beautiful as she did last nightâperfectly made up, hair still done, even though it's late and she should be asleep.
she's biting her lipâtrying to be quietâeyes clenched shut like she can't quite find the rhythm she's craving.
her body is tense. taut.
and then she lets out a sigh, soft and sharp, and it makes you shiver all the way. everywhere.
you immediately retreat backwards to the point where your back comes in contact to the railing of the overview of the foyer.
grasping onto the railings before swallowing spit down your tight throat. your whole body immediately flashing with hot surges in each limb.
the cold wood of the railing bites into your palms as you grip it, like it can ground youâlike it can stop the rush of heat flooding through your veins.
you shouldnât have looked.
you shouldâve walked away.
but god.
the sound of her.
the way she moved.
the way she whispered something under her breathâsoft, broken, in spanishâthat made your knees weak.
ânecesito⊠mĂĄsâŠâ
you donât move. canât.
and thenâ
a floorboard creaks behind you.
your breath stops.
daniela stands in her study doorway now, silhouette framed by golden light from withinâthe robe slightly open at the front, hair falling out of its perfect styleâand eyes?
locked on yours.
no shame. no anger.
just hunger. raw and unfiltered.
she takes one slow step forward⊠then anotherâŠ
until sheâs close enough to see every panicked flutter of your pulse in your neck⊠and taste every silent "yes" youâre too afraid to say aloud yet.
âdidnât think Iâd catch you watching,â she murmursâvoice thick with wantâher lips curling into a knowing smile that says:
i know exactly what this is doing to you.
"i- i was coming to ask for anything else that needed to be done."
great cover up.
the words came out like if you were trying to manipulate her.
daniela laughsâlow, rough, unimpressed.
âreally?â she steps closer, the scent of her skin wrapping around you like smoke. âbecause last time i checked⊠cleaning up doesnât require eavesdropping.â
your breath hitches. sheâs towering over you nowâtaller in heelsâand even though your back is against the railing, you donât pull away.
canât.
âyou were supposed to be asleep,â you whisper.
âso were you,â she counters. one hand liftsâslowâto tuck a loose curl behind your ear. her fingers linger on your jaw. tracing it like a promise.
when she speaks again, it's barely audible:
âi couldâve been anyone.â
âwhat if it wasn't me under that robe?â
âwhat if iâd called out his name instead?â
your stomach drops.
you hadn't thought of thatâbut god does it hurt nowâthe idea of her touching herself while thinking about someone else?
she sees the shift in your eyes immediatelyâsmirksâand leans in until her lips are level with your ear:
"but it wasn't, was it?"
"it was your name i almost said."
and just like that? the world stops spinning⊠and starts again on fire.
before a mewl or whine could pour out your lips, you swallowed hard with a shaky breath and immediately created space by shifting to the side.
"goodnight mrs. avanzini."
she doesn't budge, just watches you try to put some distance between you.
she looks amused.
and⊠disappointed, if only for a momentâlike she'd wanted you to fight, to push back, to do something.
"coward," she murmurs under her breath.
you freeze.
"what?" you snap, turning to face her completely now.
she has the audacity to smirk, a challenge in her eyes.
"i said you're a coward."
your eyes almost twitch at the audacity the woman in front of you had. you saved yourself before you could say anything, breathing out, "goodnight ma'am."
twisting on your heel and heading to your room.
she doesnât call after you.
doesnât move.
but you can feel her watching your back all the way down the hallâthe weight of her gaze like a hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you, scolding you for running.
when you finally shut your bedroom door and lean against it, breath uneven and skin still too hot?
one thought burns louder than the rest:
she called me a coward⊠but Iâm not running from her.
Iâm running from what Iâd do if I stayed.
you step off the door and make your way to the bathroom, immediately turning on the shower and stripping off the dress along with the heels. taking off all jewelry with a newfound vigor.
the world feels surreal as you step beneath the stream of water, hot enough to make red rise to your pale skin. your brain keeps replaying those last few momentsâhow close you came to throwing all caution to the wind and pulling daniela against you, to hell with the consequences.
your chest clenches.
god, you ache.
the pulse between your thighs is almost painful⊠but you refuse to touch yourself.
not tonight.
you turn the water off after washing your hair, stepping out into the cool air. you dry off quickly, pulling on a pair of soft silk shorts and silk sleep cami before climbing into bed.
you stare up at the ceiling, the sheets cool against your skin, and close your eyes for a few blissful seconds.
âŠ
then?
you hear a soft knock at your door.
itâs faint.
slow.
knock.
knock-knock.
your breath stills.
ây/nâŠâ comes her voiceâlow, smooth, but laced with something deeper now. âopen the door.â
you donât move.
âi know youâre awake.â a pause. then softer: âplease.â
the word catches you off guard. it sounds almost⊠broken. like sheâs not used to saying it. another beat of silence passes before your legs move on their own, carrying you across the floor until your hand rests on the knob.
you open it just a crackâbarely enough to see her face in the dim hallway light.
daniela stands there in that same silk robe from earlierâhair messy now, eyes heavyâand for once?
she doesnât look powerful. she looks⊠undone.
her voice cracks when she speaks again:
âcan i come in?â
you don't know why you do it.
you opened the door wide open revealing your more skin accessible frame, stepping side with your arms crossed. turning around to sit on the bed before spinning on your heel, "what do you want?"
as soon as sheâs inside and the door is shut behind her, daniela stops.
stares.
her jaw clenches; her fingers clenchâand when her eyes slowly drag down your bodyâyour legs, your stomach, your chest, your throat, your faceâyou can almost feel every inch her gaze touches, the heat in her gaze nearly tangible.
finally, she whispers:
"goddamn."
a scoff leaves your lips as you shake your head.
"get a grip."
âa grip?â she echoes, stepping forwardâslow, dangerousâuntil sheâs close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating off her skin.
âyouâve been watching me all night,â she says lowly. âdonât act like i'm the one who lost control.â
your breath hitches.
she sees it.
smirks.
then:
âyou opened that door for a reason.â another step. now just an inch separates you, her body casting a shadow over yours where you sit on the bed. âyou couldâve said no. couldâve turned away when i knocked⊠but here we are.â
her hand liftsâhesitatesâand then brushes your hair from your shoulder, fingers grazing bare skin as they go.
âso donât tell me to get a grip,â she murmurs, voice barely above a whisper now. ânot when i can feel how fast your heartâs beating.â
and just like that?
the power shifts.
again.
your blinks are rapid as you look up at her, swallowing hard before debating what to do. your arms uncrossing as you snaked your hands to the hem of your top, peeling it off which revealed your breasts, "is this what you wanted?â
something flickers in her dark eyesâsurprise? desire?âas she looks down at you, bare skin glistening faintly in the moonlight.
her gaze is unashamed, almost reverent, roaming over you like her own private show. when she speaks again, her voice is thick with want:
âyou know it is.â
then, almost hesitantly:
âtell me to stop.â
you didn't. instead you backed up towards the desk and hoisted yourself up, peeling off your shorts along with your panties.
slitting your legs open to let daniela between them.
her gaze drops to the floor, breath leaving her chest in a sharp whoosh of air. she looks almost dizzy, her hands clenching into fists like sheâs forcing herself to stay still.
thenâfinallyâshe slowly looks back up and takes in the sight of you, naked and willing and waiting, and the last of her restraint snaps.
god.
she takes her time as she steps forward, like sheâs savoring the sight of you, before finally, she places her hands on either side of your hips.
her fingers press into your skinâhot, possessiveâand you arch instinctively, a soft gasp slipping from your lips.
she leans in close, her breath warm against the shell of your ear as she whispers:
âthis is dangerous.â
a pause.
then lower:
âweâre dangerous.â
but then she kisses youâhard and suddenâclaiming your mouth like sheâs been waiting forever to do it.
tongue sweeping in with no hesitation. one hand sliding up to grip the back of your neck while the other trails downâover rib, hip, thighâbefore spreading you wider.
and when she breaks the kiss to look at you again?
her voice drops even lower:
âsay my name,â she demands. ânot mrs. avanzini. not maâam.â
she presses two fingers against youâjust barelyâand watches every flicker across your face.
âsay it⊠or i walk out that door right now.â
you were balancing two options. picking the one that seem most suited.
"mommy."
the moment the word leaves your mouth, a wave of warmth floods her chest. it surprises her how badly she likes it. how much she wants to hear you say it again.
the smile that spreads across her face is almost proud.
this is what power feels like.
she leans forward again, eyes dark and intense, and murmurs against your ear.
âgood girl.â
you let out a soft sigh as you wrap your legs around daniela's body, pulling her in closer to make her touch you where you needed her most.
she groansâlow, deep, feminineâat the feel of you clinging to her. your bare skin against hers, legs locking around her hips like youâre afraid sheâll pull away.
âso eager,â she murmurs, voice thick with lust and something darker⊠possessive. tender. broken.
but then one hand moves downâslow, torturousâto brush two fingers along your slick heat.
a whimper tears from your throat before you can stop it.
âthatâs it,â she coos, circling your clit with just enough pressure to make you shake. âlet me hear how much you want this.â
she leans in again until her lips are ghosting over yours:
âtell me what I am.â
your breath hitches.
you know the answerâitâs burning in your chest like a confession.
âmommy.â
at your answer, her eyes burn with a new wave of hunger. she kisses the corner of your mouth, then the underside of your jaw, down your neck, nipping and sucking just hard enough to make you moan again.
it takes every last ounce of her willpower to keep her touches slow. to take her time as her fingers explore every part of you.
when they finally dip deeperâsinking into you carefullyâyou whimper and clutch at her shoulders.
more, you think.
closer.
need her.
"godâŠ" you moaned as you clutched daniela's curls in your hand, matching the movement of her fingers as you moved your hips against her hand.
your hands in her hair makes her groan deep in her throat. her body tenses against you, her mouth finding your neck. she sucks at the sensitive skin right beneath your ear and whispers:
âyou make the prettiest sounds when youâre desperate for me, don't you, sweetie?â
she circles you with her tongue, teeth grazing your pulse point teasingly.
âso eager to squirm for me. to whine for more. to beg.â
you shiver.
âbut youâre not going to,â she continues, voice low and almost admiring. âyouâd rather choke on your pride than say it⊠even when i can feel how badly youâre shaking.â
her fingers curl inside youâjust rightâand your hips buck wildly against her hand.
she chucklesâdark, warmâagainst your skin.
âthere it is.â
another slow roll of her wrist. deeper this time. relentless.
âi could make you come like this,â she murmurs. âwith my fingers only. watching every muscle in your body tighten⊠listening to how quiet you try to beâŠâ
she pulls back just enough to watch your faceâthe flush on your cheeks, the way your lips part like a prayerâand adds:
âor i could let my tongue taste all that heat between your legsâŠâ
a beat.
then softer.
âwhich do you want, baby?â
you almost said it too fast for your liking.
"both⊠please please⊠please mommy."
she shatters.
with a low, guttural soundâsomething between a moan and a growlâdaniela finally gives in.
she yanks you to the edge of the desk with one rough pull, her mouth crashing against your center like she's been starving for it.
"fuck," she groans against your skin, licking up through you in one long, filthy stroke that makes you cry out. "so sweet. so wet for me."
her tongue circles your clit in slow, deliberate lapsâone hand still buried deep inside you while the other grips your thigh hard enough to leave marks.
"you asked so pretty," she whispers between flicks of her tongue. "such a good girl⊠letting mommy taste how much you missed me."
and thenâ
she doesn't stop.
because now?
you're trembling.
begging without words anymoreâhips stuttering into her face as pleasure tears through every nerve ending.
and daniela?
sheâs not just giving this moment to herselfâŠ
sheâs claiming it.
like nothing else has ever belonged to her this completely before.
like you were made for moments like theseâfor breathless whimpers and sticky thighs and calling her something only someone truly desperate ever would:
âmommy.â
over and over againâŠ
until thereâs nothing left but starsâand the sound of your name on her lips like prayer:
ây/n⊠come for me.â
and so you do.
you release all over daniela's fingers and tongue like if it was your only chance to do so. you cry her name and grip onto her curls as your legs began to shake. she wasn't stopping.
it's the sound of your cry that finally makes her lose herself completely.
one last rough curl of her fingers and she's pulling your body closerâlapping up every drop, licking and sucking until your legs lock around her shoulders and your fingers twist in her hair.
you're boneless in her hands, trembling in the aftermath, and even when she finally moves back to press a kiss to your hip, your legs are still shaking.
"that's it." she murmurs, stroking your thigh like a soothing rhythm. "you did so well, baby."
your breathing is heavy as more whimpers begin to pour out your mouth when your body reacts to all the overstimulation, despite daniela's tongue not being on you anymore.
daniela moves back up to kiss your neckâyour cheeks, your lips, the corner of your mouthâher hands rubbing gentle circles against your sides to soothe you.
"easy," she whispers, kissing you one last time. "breathe, pretty girl."
eventually, the trembling in your thighs subsides and your breath begins to even out.
but you don't even open your eyes until daniela gently tilts your face up.
"look at me."
and this time, you obey.
her dark eyes are intense and possessive as they search your faceâdrinking in this version of you, flushed an aching pink. she brushes an unruly lock of hair from your forehead with a tenderness that seems almost at odds with all the things you just did together.
"god," she murmurs again, voice still thick with want.
then her expression shiftsâalmost teasing.
"you're still shaking, darling."
"behind," you manage to whimper, "n-need you from behind."
it takes everything you have not to shiver again when daniela's smirk deepensâthat sharp, predatory gleam entering her eyes again.
"needy this early on?" she murmurs, her touch roaming your body almost lazily. "my, you are greedy."
still, she obeys. she kisses your neck once more before turning you around to face the desk, one hand pressing you forward against the wood.
the cool surface of the desk presses against your bare chest as you arch into it, ass raised and trembling in offering. daniela runs a hand down your spineâslow, deliberateâbefore gripping both cheeks hard enough to leave a mark.
âsuch a perfect little thing,â she coos. âall for me.â
then sheâs on her knees behind you, tongue sliding through you againâone long, wet stripe that makes you whimperâand just when you think sheâll keep going?
she pulls back.
stands.
and slowly peels off her robe until it falls to the floor with a whisper.
naked now, every inch of her skin glowing in moonlight-filtered-through-curtains, daniela climbs onto the bed behind you. presses close until her breasts brush your back and one slick thigh slides between yoursâgrinding slow against your soaked heat.
âyou want me inside?â she whispers in your ear. âdeep? rough? like i own every part of this tight little body?â
your breath hitchesâyou canât answerâitâs all too muchâ
so instead?
you push back against her thigh⊠begging without words againâŠ
and god help you?
she rewards obedience beautifully.
"fucking christâŠ" you moan out as you began throwing your hips in a circle on daniela's thigh, it was an expertise. your ass beginning to shake just for her.
danielaâs breath hitchesâsharp, unguardedâas your ass grinds against her in slow, filthy circles.
âjesus,â she bites out, fingers digging into your hips like sheâs trying to control you⊠but you can feel itâhow her body trembles now. how her thigh glistens from you. how wet sheâs getting just watching and feeling this.
âlook at you,â she growls into the curve of your neck. âshaking that pretty little ass like it was made for me.â
another roll of your hips and she lets out a broken moan.
âit was, wasnât it? all this?â Her hand snakes around to pinch one hard nipple between her fingers ââthis heat? this greed? made for mommy.â
you whimperâyour rhythm stuttersâand she takes over then, bucking up against you with force, making sure every inch of friction is on her terms now.
âdonât stop,â she commands. âride my thigh like iâm fucking you⊠because if i were?â
a dark chuckle vibrates through her chest.
âyouâd be screaming by now.â
"smack my ass," you whimper as your slickness continuously coats daniela's thigh, letting your bundle of nerves ride against her soft skin.
daniela stills for half a secondâlike your words just rewired her brain.
then?
âwhat did you say?â she murmurs, voice gone dangerously low.
you donât answer. just arch higher, push back harderâbegging with your body instead.
and god help her, she obeys.
a sharp crack echoes through the room as her palm connects with your assâa stinging slap that makes you cry out and shudder against her thigh.
âagain?â she growls.
another slapâharder this timeâand another whimper tears from your throat as pleasure zips straight to your core.
âfucking hell,â she breathes, watching the pink bloom across your skin. âyou like that? like being marked by me?â
she drags a fingertip over the heat of it before sliding down through all that wetness between your legs.
âsay it,â she demands. âtell mommy what you want.â
your voice breaks:
ââŠagain⊠please⊠i want it againâŠâ
daniela almost whines when you finally answerâalmost loses control at the shattered note in your voice.
her hands are shaking when she lifts them to your waist.
her touch feels almost reverent, almost gentle, as she rubs the sting of another slap.
then finallyâafter one more slow, deliberate circleâshe lifts her hand and brings it down again.
hard.
"like that?" she whispers. "hard enough for you, pretty girl?"
your hips rock against her thigh.
"harder," you gasp.
"harder?" she repeatsâvoice thick with disbelief and lust.
then her hand comes down again, hard, the sound sharp in the quiet room, your skin blooming red under her palm.
you cry outâraw, unfilteredâand slam back into her thigh like punishment is permission.
âfucking insatiable,â she hisses, slapping you once more, then dragging her wet fingers up through your soaked heat. âyou want it harder? earn it.â
she thrusts two fingers inside you suddenlyâno warningâand crooks them just right.
your back arches violentlyâyouâre gasping, tremblingâbut before you can beg for more?
she pulls out completely.
leaves you empty.
shaking.
desperate.
âturn around,â she demands. âlook at me when i ruin you.â
in a swift, sudden movement you turned around before jumping into daniela's arms and immediately kissing her with passion. wanting her to sit down so you could ride her fingers.
daniela lets out a low, hungry sound as your mouth crashes against hersâhot, desperateâand stumbles back until her legs hit the edge of the bed.
she sits hardâbut you donât stop. not even when she grips your hips to steady you, her thighs spreading beneath yours as you sink down against her hand.
âgod,â she breathes into your kiss, already sliding two fingers back inside youâdeeper this time. âyouâre so tight⊠like my fingers were made for this pussy.â
you whimper and roll your hips, setting a frantic rhythm as you ride her with filthy precision. every thrust grinds yourself against her palmâthe perfect pressure on that swollen little nub.
âthatâs it,â she moans, watching your face twist with pleasure. âride me like i'm all that matters.â
her free hand snakes up under the curve of your breastâfingers tweaking a nipple just shy of painâand whispers.
âcome again for mommy.â
and when she curls those fingers just right, tongue darting out to wet her lips as if tasting your pleasure?
you doâshattering in silence save for one choked sob.
dripping down onto her hand.
trembling all over againâŠ
because now?
she owns every part of whatâs left.
her eyes are dark with hunger as they roam over your faceâyour flushed skin, your ragged breaths. she pulls her fingers from you slowly, then lifts them to her lips, licking and sucking every drop clean with a sinful moan.
"delicio" she murmurs, still watching your every move. "you don't even know how hard you shake for me."
you're about to reply with something witty when she grips your chin, forcing you to look into her eyes.
"kneel."
her command hits your chest like thunder, making your breath hitch all over again.
kneel.
the single word makes you shiverâbecause you know what it means. what it promises. what it costs.
and for some reason, you canât even think to refuse.
you slip to the floor in front of her.
"now." she whispers. "open your mouth."
your body moves on command, as if you're already under her control, and your mouth falls open on a soft exhale.
her fingers brush against your jaw, thumb tracing your lower lip, and she watches you with a look like she's savoring every second of this.
"you have no idea what you look like right now," she murmurs. "on your knees. waiting."
she shifts forward, her thighs parting wider as she lifts a handâslippery with youâand drags two fingers slowly through her own folds.
you watch, breathless.
when she pulls them away glistening, she hovers them just above your mouth.
âthis is what you get if youâre good,â she whispers. âtaste how wet I got⊠just from watching you come.â
and then?
she feeds you her fingersâone at a timeâletting you suck each one clean while your eyes stay locked on hers like worship.
âthatâs it,â she purrs. âlike i belong to you.â
but the moment your tongue lingers too long?
she yanks her hand back with a smirk.
âbut we both know⊠Iâm the one who owns this mouth.â
it was too much for your body to handle.
you surged forward and collected her thighs on your shoulders like a prize, attacking her center like a woman starved.
daniela gasps as your mouth connects with her, one hand flying to your hair as her head falls back against the bed. you moan against her, licking and sucking like you can't get enough, and when you look up at her?
"jesus christ," she hisses, eyes dark and half-lidded as they stare down at you. "your mouth. so good⊠it's made for meâŠ"
her nails rake down your back, leaving scratch marks as she tugs at your hair. "you like making me feel good?"
you only nod against her sensitive bud and whimper as your nails digs in her thighs.
danielaâs breath hitches, her thighs tensing under your grip as you press harder, suck deeperâlike youâre trying to devour her whole.
âfuck,â she moans, hips lifting off the bed. âyesâjust like that, baby⊠donât stop.â
her hand tangles in your hair againânot gentle nowâguiding your rhythm as pleasure wracks through her body in waves. every whimper from her lips is a prayer; every twitch of her leg against your shoulder is a confession.
âyouâre going to make me come,â she whispers brokenly. âon this sweet little tongue⊠arenât you?â
and when she bucks against your mouth with a choked cry?
you don't pull away.
because this?
this power?
itâs yours now too.
when she finally comes down, trembling and boneless, her eyes are dark and hazy as they find yours once again. but instead of pulling you up to her, daniela reaches down to cup your faceâher thumb stroking your jaw with a tenderness that makes you shiver.
"good girl," she breathes, her voice still ragged. "so good for me."
"That's My Good Girl" Momo Drawls out to you, in between her bites to your inner thigh as she holds you down and clutches your legs as wide apart as she can, teasingly breathing over your core giving you full body goosebumps before proceeding to dive in and devour you for hours
warnings. smut, mentions of possessive!jihyo, overstimulation, mommy kink, jealousy, established relationship, fingering
#! for some reason, tumblr wasn't letting me add pictures w the actual request, so i had to do it this way đ
jihyo was never prone to jealousy. she was overly possessive of her girlfriend, any little glance from another causing her to grasp onto your hip just a little tighter to show that you're hers.
when she saw you sandwiched in between two women on that couch, she flipped. the sight of it made her stomach twist in disgust: some girl on your right holding onto your arm and the other drawing circles onto your knee. her anger spiked at the visual, teeth clenching in distaste.
getting you home was fast. with the way she dragged you out of the building and into her car, you'd think you did something horribly wrong. and in a way, you did; at least in her eyes you did. almost immediately, she was pulling you into her bedroom, pushing you down on her bed to tear your clothes off.
an hour later, and she still hadn't let you leave the room. you were pinned underneath her, left only writhing as her fingers thrust in you for the nth time.
"mommy.. 's too much." you whined, body squirming under her hold. you were already four orgasms deepâyour body was begging for the rest she denied.
jihyo grunted, doubling her efforts as she curled her fingers just right. "no use in whining now. you'll just have to finish again, won't you?"
your bf calls while laraâs inside you, she makes u answer the phone, goodluck! ;) smut. fluff g!p content cockwarming cheating on ur bf p in v size kink cunnilingus
your phone buzzes on the nightstand, a familiar, illicit chime that makes your heart jump. itâs lara. of course, itâs lara. your boyfriend is two states away at a conference, a fact youâd lamented to him over the phone this morning with all the sincerity of a seasoned actress. now, that same distance feels like a lifeline.
you grab the phone, the glow of the screen illuminating your face in the dark bedroom.
~ this isnât fair, i hate that we canât just ~ see each other whenever we want.
you hit send, the familiar cocktail of guilt and anticipation swirling in your gut. itâs your code. your little white lie wrapped in a complaint. heâs not here.
itâs the green light you always give her, the only way you know how to ask for what you really want.
the reply is almost instant.
âą 1 new message from lara
poor baby, missing me that much?
her teasing makes you squirm, a heat already starting to build low in your belly.
~ you know i do. itâs just⊠frustrating.
âą lara replied to your message
i know. look outside.
your brows furrow in confusion. you slip out from under the covers, padding quietly to the window of your apartment. peeking through the blinds, your breath catches. there it is. laraâs sleek black car is parked across the street, the engine running, the driverâs side window rolled down just enough for you to see the silhouette of her arm resting on the frame.
âą lara
let me in, princess.
a shiver runs down your spine, one of pure, unadulterated excitement. you donât bother texting back. you just rush to the front door, unlocking it and pulling it open just as she reaches the bottom step of the porch.
sheâs in her usual bar owner attire: dark, well-fitting jeans and a simple black button-up that does little to hide the strong lines of her torso. her hair is slightly messy, and she smells faintly of whiskey and something uniquely her, something warm and intoxicating. she doesnât say a word, just steps inside, her eyes locking with yours as she kicks the door shut behind her. the lock clicks home, a sound that feels more final than any wedding vow.
âyou have a problem with being direct,â she murmurs, her voice a low rumble that vibrates through you. her hands come up to cup your face, her thumbs stroking your cheekbones.
âyou have a problem with showing up unannounced,â you retort, but thereâs no heat in it. youâre already melting into her touch.
âonly when i get texts like that,â she says, leaning down. her lips are soft but demanding, claiming yours in a kiss thatâs all teeth and tongue and desperate need. itâs a kiss that says i know exactly what you need, and it makes your knees weak.
she walks you backward towards your bedroom, her lips never leaving yours, her hands roaming down your sides to grip your hips. the back of your knees hit the bed, and you fall back onto the mattress with a soft bounce. she follows, hovering over you, her body a warm, heavy weight that you crave.
âmissed this,â she breathes against your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there. âmissed you.â
âlaraâŠâ you whisper, your hands tangling in her hair as she kisses a path down your chest.
âshh, i know, baby,â she soothes. Her hands are deft, making quick work of your pajama bottoms and panties, pulling them down your legs and tossing them aside. she settles between your thighs, her gaze dark and intense as she looks up at you from under her lashes. âlet me take care of you.â
and then sheâs there, her mouth on you, hot and perfect. her tongue is skilled, knowing exactly how to flick and circle to drive you insane. she doesnât rush. she never rushes. this is her favorite part, worshipping you with her mouth, pulling sounds from you that youâve never made for anyone else. your hips buck against her face, your fingers tightening in her hair as the pleasure coils tighter and tighter, a white-hot spring ready to snap.
âcome for me,â she commands, her voice muffled against you. âi wanna taste you.â
thatâs all it takes. the orgasm crashes through you, a blinding wave of pleasure that leaves you gasping and trembling. she laps at you gently, drawing out your high until youâre a boneless, panting mess beneath her.
she kisses her way back up your body, her lips glistening with you. when she reaches your mouth, you can taste yourself on her tongue, and itâs the most erotic thing youâve ever experienced. while youâre still floating in the afterglow, she makes quick work of her own clothes, her shirt and jeans joining yours on the floor.
her cock springs free, thick and heavy. Itâs not just long; itâs girthy, a beautiful, intimidating weight that youâve come to adore. she knows how to use it, knows just how to stretch you open in the most delicious way.
she reaches over you to the nightstand, fumbling in the drawer for a condom and the bottle of lube you keep there just for her. she rolls the latex on with practiced ease, then slicks herself up, her eyes never leaving yours.
âyou ready for me, baby?â she asks, her voice low and rough.
you nod, unable to form words, spreading your legs wider in invitation.
she lines herself up, pressing the thick head of her cock against your entrance. she pushes in slowly, so slowly, giving your body time to adjust to her impressive size. the stretch is exquisite, a slight burn that melts into pure pleasure as she sinks deeper and deeper, inch by agonizing inch, until sheâs fully seated inside you.
âfuck,â she groans, dropping her forehead to yours. âyou feel so good. always so perfect for me.â
she stays still for a moment, letting you get used to the fullness, her hips rolling in a slow, shallow circle that makes you see stars. then she starts to move.
lara isnât a selfish lover. sheâs never chasing her own pleasure at the expense of yours. every thrust is measured, deliberate, angled to hit that perfect spot deep inside you that makes your toes curl. sheâs passionate, her hands gripping your hips, her mouth finding yours in a series of deep, soul-shattering kisses. sheâs focused, her eyes locked on your face, watching for every flicker of pleasure, every change in expression.
âthatâs it,â she praises as you moan, her pace picking up just a little. âtake it, baby. youâre taking me so well.â
the room is filled with the sounds of your pleasure: your breathy moans, her low grunts, the slick, rhythmic slap of skin against skin. she shifts her weight, hooking one of your legs over her shoulder, changing the angle and driving impossibly deeper. the new position has you crying out, your hands clutching at the sheets.
âright there?â she asks, a smug, knowing smirk playing on her lips.
âgod, yes, right there,â you gasp.
she obeys, pistoning her hips into that spot over and over again, her own breathing becoming ragged. the coil in your stomach tightens again, impossibly fast, more intense this time. her hand snakes down between your bodies, her thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight, firm circles.
âcome with me, baby,â she pants, her thrusts becoming erratic. âcome all over me.â
her words, combined with the relentless pressure of her thumb and the deep, filling thrusts of her cock, send you over the edge. your orgasm tears through you, violent and all-consuming. your vision whites out, your body arching off the bed as a silent scream rips from your throat. your walls clench around her, and with a guttural groan, she follows you over the edge, burying herself deep inside you as she finds her own release.
she collapses on top of you, her body a comforting weight as you both struggle to catch your breath. for a long moment, the only sound in the room is your combined panting. she presses a soft, tender kiss to your temple.
âyou okay?â she asks, her voice gentle.
you hum in response, too blissed out to speak. she carefully pulls out, dealing with the condom before lying back down and pulling you into her arms. You rest your head on her chest, listening to the steady thrum of her heartbeat.
you know this is wrong. you know youâre a terrible person for doing this. but lying here in laraâs arms, feeling safe and cherished and utterly satisfied, you canât bring yourself to care. heâs the one whoâs supposed to be here, but heâs not. lara is. and right now, thatâs all that matters.
the silence that follows is comfortable, a warm blanket in the dimly lit room. youâre tracing abstract patterns on the sweat-slick skin of laraâs stomach, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing. her arm is wrapped securely around you, her fingers stroking your hair. itâs in these moments, the quiet after the storm, that the lines blur the most.
âi love you,â you whisper, the words so soft theyâre barely audible. itâs a dangerous confession, one youâve only dared to make in the dead of night like this, when the world outside this bedroom doesnât exist.
you feel her tense for a fraction of a second, then relax completely. she shifts, turning her head to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. âi love you too, baby,â she murmurs back, her voice thick with emotion. âso much it hurts.â
her hand tilts your chin up, and she kisses you, a slow, deep, tender kiss thatâs full of all the words you canât say in the light of day. itâs a kiss that claims, that cherishes, that promises. when you part, youâre both breathless again, but for a different reason.
âstay,â you plead, knowing she has to leave but wanting to steal just a few more minutes.
âalways,â she promises, though you both know itâs a lie for the morning.
you shift, maneuvering until youâre straddling her lap. her cock, still semi-hard, rests against your thigh.
âno condoms?â lara asks.
you shake your head no, wanting to feel the raw and deep connection with lara. with a soft sigh, you line her up and sink down slowly, taking her inside you again. thereâs no urgency this time, just a desire to be connected, to be as close to her as humanly possible. you settle fully, her girth stretching you in a way thatâs both a comfort and a constant, thrilling reminder of her presence. you just sit there, cockwarming her, your bodies fused together in the quiet intimacy of the room.
laraâs hands rest on your hips, her thumbs stroking circles on your skin. sheâs watching you with an expression of pure adoration, her dark eyes soft in the moonlight. this is your version of heaven.
and then, it shatters.
your phone, discarded on the nightstand just hours ago, begins to ring. the sound is shrill and jarring, a piercing alarm in the peaceful sanctuary youâve built. the screen lights up, and your blood runs cold.
him.
panic claws its way up your throat. you make a move to scramble off lara, but her hands on your hips tighten, holding you in place. she gives a slight, almost imperceptible shake of her head, a wicked glint in her eye.
âanswer it,â she mouths, her voiceless command a terrifying thrill.
your hand trembles as you reach for the phone. you swipe to accept the call, your heart hammering against your ribs. âh-hey,â you say, your voice an octave too high. âi was just about to call you.â
âhey, babe,â his voice comes through the speaker, tinny and distant. âsorry, the conference ran late. just wanted to hear your voice before i pass out. you sound a little out of breath, everything okay?â
before you can form a lie, you feel it. a slow, deliberate roll of laraâs hips upward. a shallow thrust that pushes her cock just a little deeper inside you. a jolt of pure electricity shoots through you. you bite your lip hard to stifle a gasp.
âyeah! everythingâs great,â you rush out, your voice tight. âjust⊠just doing some late-night yoga. to unwind.â
laraâs lips curve into a smirk against your shoulder. she leans in, pressing a series of open-mouthed, sucking kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck. her teeth graze your pulse point, and your eyes flutter shut. itâs torture. itâs divine.
âyoga, huh? thatâs my healthy girl,â he says, completely oblivious. âmissing you like crazy. canât wait to be home tomorrow.â
another slow, teasing rock of her hips. her hands slide from your hips to your ass, gripping the flesh and pulling you even closer as she grinds up into you. the friction is maddening. you can feel the heat building again, a traitorous response to her sensual assault. you need to make a sound. you need to gasp, to moan, to do something.
as if reading your mind, lara brings one hand up to your face. she traces your lips with her thumb before gently pushing it past them, pressing down on your tongue. itâs an offer, a lifeline. you immediately close your lips around it, sucking gently. the pressure silences you, giving you something to focus on other than the exquisite way sheâs moving inside you.
lara watches you, her gaze dark and intense, completely captivated by the sight of you with her thumb in your mouth while you talk to your boyfriend. the power dynamic is intoxicating.
âthatâs⊠thatâs great, honey,â you manage around the digit in your mouth, the words slightly muffled. âi miss you too.â
âare you sure youâre okay? you sound⊠distracted,â he presses, a hint of suspicion in his tone.
lara chooses that exact moment to give a sharp, deliberate upward thrust, hitting that spot deep inside you that makes your whole body tremble. your eyes roll back, and a choked whimper escapes you. itâs muffled by her thumb, but itâs there.
âiâm fine!â you say, a little too loudly. âjust a⊠a deep stretch. you know how it is.â
you glare down at lara, but she just winks, her eyes dancing with mischief. sheâs enjoying this far too much. she continues her slow, torturous rhythm, her hips rolling in a languid figure-eight that stirs you up from the inside. her other hand comes up to toy with one of your nipples, pinching it gently between her fingers.
âokay, if you say so,â he says, finally letting it go. âwell, iâll let you get back to your⊠yoga. i love you. see you tomorrow.â
âlove you too,â you breathe, the words a rush of relief. âbye.â
you hang up the phone and toss it onto the bed as if itâs burned you. the second the call ends, you pull your mouth away from her thumb with a wet pop.
âyou are the absolute worst,â you pant, collapsing against her chest, your body trembling with a mixture of residual panic and mounting arousal.
âthe worst?â she chuckles, her voice a low, triumphant rumble. she wraps her arms around you, holding you tight as she finally stills her hips. âi think i just helped you ace a very difficult test, princess.â
you canât help but laugh, a breathless, giddy sound. âyouâre impossible.â
âand youâre all mine,â she murmurs, her lips finding yours again. âat least for tonight.â
the phone lies forgotten on the tangled sheets, a dead soldier on the battlefield of your deceit. the adrenaline from the call is still humming in your veins, a sharp, electric current that slowly morphs into something deeper, heavier, more profound.
lara doesnât move to speak. she doesnât need to. her eyes, dark and fathomless in the dim light, hold a universe of smug satisfaction and raw affection. she sees the surrender in your posture, the way your body has gone pliant against hers.
slowly, she resumes the motion of her hips.
itâs not the sharp, teasing thrust from moments ago. this is different. this is a languid, hypnotic roll. a slow, deep undulation that grinds the thick base of her cock against your clit while the head presses insistently against that tender, sensitive spot deep within you. itâs a movement designed for pleasure, not for shock. a rhythm that doesnât demand a response but patiently waits for one to bloom.
you feel it in your bones, in your soul. a slow, melting heat that starts where youâre joined and spreads outward until every inch of you is thrumming with it. your head feels heavy, your limbs loose. youâre sinking, drowning in the sensation, in the sheer, overwhelming presence of the woman beneath you.
her thumb, still wet from your mouth, returns to your lips. you donât hesitate. you part them willingly, inviting her back in. she slides the digit past your teeth, pressing it gently against your tongue. itâs an anchor in the rising tide of pleasure, a focal point. you begin to suck on it instinctively, a soft, rhythmic pressure that matches the slow rocking of her hips.
your gaze locks with hers, and you donât look away. you canât. her eyes are the only thing that feels real. they hold you captive as she begins to fuck you in earnest, her pace never increasing, her rhythm never faltering. itâs a relentless, steady, soul-deep possession. each upward roll of her hips is a silent declaration, each slow retreat a promise to return.
youâre completely lost. the world outside this bed ceases to exist. there is no boyfriend, no tomorrow, no consequences. there is only the thick, girthy cock filling you so completely, the thumb resting on your tongue, and the intense, unwavering gaze of the woman who owns you in this moment. youâre a ship caught in her current, and you have no desire to be saved. you just want to drift.
a soft, muffled whimper escapes around her thumb. itâs a sound of pure, unadulterated bliss. laraâs lips curve into a soft, knowing smile. she sees the trance youâre in, the complete submission. she leans in, her lips brushing against your ear, her voice a husky whisper that sends a fresh wave of goosebumps across your skin.
âthatâs it, baby,â she murmurs, her voice vibrating through you. âjust let go. let me take care of you.â
her words are the final push. the pleasure, which has been building in a slow, inexorable wave, finally crests. itâs not the violent, crashing orgasm from before. this is something else entirely. itâs a deep, powerful, all-consuming spasm that starts in your core and radiates outwards in a blinding, white-hot rush. your body arches, a silent scream caught in your throat, muffled by the flesh of her thumb. your inner walls clench around her, a desperate, rhythmic fluttering that milks her cock as she continues her slow, perfect rocking, drawing out every last second of your release.
as the tremors subside, you collapse against her, boneless and spent. your mouth is still slack around her thumb, your breathing ragged. she gently eases her hips to a stop, letting you rest fully on her, her cock still buried deep inside you, a warm, heavy anchor.
she slowly pulls her thumb from your mouth, a string of saliva connecting you for a moment before breaking. she cups your face, her thumb stroking your cheek, now wet with your tears and your spit.
âmy beautiful girl,â she whispers, her voice full of a tenderness that almost breaks you. âso good for me. always so good for me.â
you canât speak. you can only nestle closer, burying your face in the crook of her neck and breathing in her scent, letting the aftershocks of your pleasure and the steady beat of her heart lull you into a state of perfect, blissful peace. you are hers. completely. utterly. and for tonight, thatâs everything.
a/n: this was originally longer. they had another round in the bathroom while cleaning up + last part where bf keeps calling while youâre sleeping on lara so she answers the phone for you, telling your bf to fuck off. <3
I was wondering if you could write a Mina x fem reader where reader and Mina are dress shopping? And Mina gets tired of having to leave the dressing room to show reader the dresses so she just pulls reader into the dressing room with her. And reader is sitting in the corner of the dressing room covering her eyes while Mina changes. Then Mina sits on readers lap and asks her to zip the dress up. And reader blushes furiously at that and is gay panicking like crazy.
If you canât no worries! đ
do i look good? đŻđđ§âĄ
myoui mina x fem reader
warnings: fluff
wc: 815
a/n: thank u bb đŐ Üž.ËŹ.ÜžŐ𩯠requests are open â€ïž
heyy do u write for nayeon? If u do, could u write mean girls (nayeon) x rodrick fem (reader), where they gate each other's guts but then they slowly fall for each other. Typical enemies to lovers hahah
Side note: I love ur stories esp the one where the reader is a fan going on a date with sana, had me giggling in my pillow at 3am hahaha. Have a great day đ
my partner, not yours ââŽïžËïœĄâ
im nayeon x fem reader
warnings: mutual pining, enemies to lovers, meangirl!nayeon, drummer!reader
wc: 6k
a/n: hai sweetheart! thank u so much for the sweet words đ im rlly happy you enjoyed that sana fic!! also i hope i got the rodrick vibe right because i actually havent watched/read doawk (ïœĄâąÌïžżâąÌïœĄ) i did my best based on what i knew, so i hope it still felt right to u. requests are open â€ïž
Your real plan was to sleep until your alarm gave up, maybe scroll TikTok until your brain rotted, maybe fix the missing screw on your drum stool. Anything except school.
But then your professor sent an email titled:
âGROUP PROJECT. ATTENDANCE REQUIRED.â
You cursed the heavens and came.
The classroom feels tense, everyone already hovering near their favorite classmates, mentally picking partners before the professor can ruin their lives.
You drop your bag onto your chair and mentally prepare to contribute the bare minimum.
Then the room shifts.
Heels.
Sharp, fast, territorial.
Im Nayeon walks in like she owns the oxygen.
She looks you up and down like spotting a stain on a shirt. Doesnât say a wordâjust scoffs softly and sits at the very front.
You sit in the back, flipping her off mentally.
The professor starts calling names.
People pair up.
âIm Nayeon and Y/N.â
You swear.
She turns around.
She says, âSeriously?â
You reply, âBelieve me, I wouldnât choose me either.â
She rolls her eyes so hard her soul leaves her body.
She walks to your tableâslow, dramatic, like sheâs approaching a wild animal.
âLetâs get something straight,â she says, sliding into the seat beside you. âIâm not carrying you.â
âI didnât ask you to.â
âI know,â she says calmly. âYou werenât going to ask. You were going to assume.â
You open your mouthâthen close it. She wins that round. Infuriating.
She pulls out her laptop and types âNEW DOC.â
You click it open on yours.
She already renamed it to:
âdonât ruin this.â
You glare. She doesnât even pretend she didnât do it.
Your professor explains the project:
10-minute documentary video essay about social issues. Interviews, editing, research, citations.
You feel dizzy, but Nayeon looks thrilled, like she was born to dominate this assignment.
âTopic ideas?â she asks.
You write:
mental health
urban poverty
academic burnout
Nayeon deletes all of them. Instantly.
You stare. âDid youâ?â
âThey were boring.â
âYou didnât even think about it.â
âI didnât have to.â
You grit your teeth so hard your jaw clicks.
She types:
The effect of social media dependency on real-world communication
You shrug. âAlright. That works.â
She freezes for a millisecond, like your agreement threw her entire system off balance. Then she shrugs it off.
Class ends. Everyone leaves in pairs.
You pack slowly. Nayeon grabs her bag and stands.
âOkay,â you say, âwhen do you want to work on this?â
She pretends not to hear you.
You try again. âNayeonââ
She pulls out her phone, tapping something deliberately.
âIâll text you,â she says.
âCool. Whatâs your number?â
She blinks at you. Slowly. Like you just asked for her blood type.
âOh. No.â
She gives a dry, humorless laugh.
âI donât give my number to people who might tank my grade.â
You blink. âHow are we supposed to communicate then?â
She slings her bag over her shoulder. âCheck the shared doc. If I update it, you update it. If I leave comments, respond to them. If I donât⊠then wait.â
âThatâsââ
You try not to choke on air.
âThatâs insane.â
She smiles sweetly, fake enough to burn your eyes.
âItâs efficient.â
âItâs controlling.â
âSame thing.â
She turns to leave.
Then pauses.
Looks over her shoulder with a smug, deadly little smirk.
âIf you want to keep up with meâŠâ she shrugs, ââŠtry harder.â
Youâre ready to argue.
But sheâs already walking awayâfast, confident, not giving you a single second to follow.
She likes it.
You can tell.
The way she tosses her hair back, the way she glances in the window reflection to see if youâre watching.
Sheâs making it difficult on purpose.
She wants you to chase.
The way she tosses her hair back, the way she glances in the window reflection to see if youâre watching.
Sheâs making it difficult on purpose.
She wants you to chase.
You donât.
Not at first.
But later that night, you open the doc. There are new additionsâclean, smart, perfectly formatted.
And a comment bubble.
Nayeon wrote:
âYouâre late.â
You type, âYou updated this 5 minutes ago.â
Her reply appears instantly.
âLate.â
Your eye twitches.
You type more notes, forcing yourself to contribute.
Another comment pops up.
âOkay. That wasnât terrible.â
You stare at the screen.
That is the closest thing to praise she has ever given a human being.
You lean back in your chair.
You hate her.
You absolutely hate her.
So why does it feel like youâre already competing for her attention?
You wake up the next morning to your alarm screaming like itâs personally offended that you exist.
You grab your phone.
No messages.
You check the shared doc.
Nothing new.
Good.
You shouldnât care anyway.
âŠYou absolutely care.
You stare at your screen for 3 seconds too long and feel stupid, so you throw your phone somewhere into your blanket and get ready for class, fully intending to ignore her.
Then you walk into the hallway andâ
of course.
Sheâs there.
Im Nayeon.
Against the lockers.
Arms crossed.
Hair perfect.
Look on her face already disapproving.
Her eyes skim over you.
âYou look tired,â she says.
No greeting.
Just straight to the insult.
âI wonder why,â you mutter.
She pretends not to hear you.
Which is funny, because she definitely heard you.
She pushes off the locker and starts walkingâfast.
You hesitate.
She doesnât wait.
She doesnât even look back.
Her steps echo down the hallway like a challenge.
You stand there, watching her walk away again.
She knows exactly what sheâs doing.
And you hate that it works.
You sigh, adjust your bag, and follow.
When you finally catch up, she glances at you. Brief. Sharp. Like youâre late to something she never told you about.
âWe need to interview people today,â she says.
You blink. âYou didnât tell me that.â
âI just did.â
âNo, I mean beforeââ
âI wasnât talking to you before.â
Your mouth falls open.
She keeps walking like this is a normal conversation.
You stop walking for a second.
She doesnât.
Of course she doesnât.
After 3 steps, she turns slightly, just enough to see youâre not beside her anymore.
Her brow lifts.
Not annoyedâ
but confused?
Then she masks it so fast you barely catch it.
âHurry up,â she says. âI donât have time to slow down.â
You want to scream. You also want to shove her into a wall. You also want to prove her wrong.
You keep walking.
She leads you outside, finding a bench near the quad where students are hanging out.
You sit.
She doesnât.
She stands in front of you, arms crossed, like sheâs evaluating a worker sheâs about to fire.
âIâll handle the talking,â she says.
You raise a brow. âOh? Because I might âtank your gradeâ?â
âNo,â she says calmly. âBecause people talk more when Iâm the one asking.â
Okay.
Annoying, but fair.
She scans the crowd, then clicks her tongue.
âGo get consent forms from the office.â
You blink. âWhy me? Youâre closer.â
She tilts her head.
âYes. And?â
âAnd thatâs unfair.â
âMm,â she hums. âYouâll live.â
You squint at her. âYou know you could just ask nicely.â
She looks genuinely offended.
âWhy would I do that?â
You canât help it. You laugh. A real one.
She hates it.
Her jaw tightens.
Her eyes flicker away.
âJust go,â she says, softer than before. âPlease.â
You freeze.
Your brain short-circuits.
Did sheâ?
She said please?
You stare suspiciously. âDid you justââ
âNo,â she snaps instantly.
âIt sounded likeââ
âNo.â
âItââ
âGO.â
You get up, hiding your smile, and jog toward the admin building.
It takes maybe 4 minutes.
When you come backâ
Sheâs gone.
Your brain immediately combusts.
You look left, right, spin around like an idiot.
Then you see it.
Your phone buzzes.
1 new comment in the shared doc.
Nayeon wrote:
âTook you long enough. Iâm in the library. If you care.â
If you care.
Thatâs not an instruction.
Not an order.
Not a rule.
Itâs a test.
Itâs her giving you a choice, which is almost worse.
You should leave her.
Let her do the project herself.
Teach her she canât drag you around.
But your feet are already moving.
Straight to the library.
When you push open the door, you spot her immediatelyâsitting at a table in the corner, laptop open, pen in her mouth while she scrolls through research.
She doesnât look up.
Not at first.
But when she senses you, she glances sideways.
And the tiniest shift happens.
Not a smile.
Not even a smirk.
Just her shoulders relax.
A fraction.
âYou took your time,â she says.
âYou vanished,â you shoot back.
âI assumed youâd check the doc,â she says.
âThatâs a terrible communication system.â
âIt works.â
âFor you.â
âFor you too,â she murmurs.
You stop.
âWhat does that mean?â
She taps her pen on the table. Once. Sharp.
âIt means,â she says with a sigh, âyou came anyway.â
Your stomach flipsâannoying and warm and confusing.
She gestures to the chair across from her.
âSit. Letâs work.â
And somehowâŠ
you do.
Even though sheâll irritate you.
Even though she wonât praise you.
Even though sheâll push and push until you want to throw your laptop out the windowâ
You sit.
Because this is Nayeon.
And she makes everything difficult.
And somehow, stupidlyâ
you donât want to stop trying.
Itâs been 3 days.
3 days of working on this project.
3 days of Nayeon acting like youâre an inconvenience and a requirement at the same time.
She still refuses to give you her number.
She still communicates only through the shared doc.
She still disappears randomly and expects you to track her down.
Today, youâre in the library again, gathering sample survey questions for the social media dependency section.
Youâre typing quietly when someone approaches your table.
âHey,â a voice says. âYouâre Y/N, right?â
You look up.
Some guy from your classâJackson.
Something generic. Nice enough smile.
âYeah?â you reply.
âI saw you and Nayeon working on the doc. If you want, I can help you with the data analysis part later. Iâm good with stats.â
âOh.â You blink. âUhâsure. That would actually beââ
Before you can finish, a chair scrapes sharply.
Nayeon materializes beside you like a demon summoned by the word âhelp.â
She places her hand on the back of your chair.
Not gently.
Not affectionately.
More like sheâs claiming a piece of furniture someone else tried to use.
Jackson smiles politely.
âHi, Nayeon. I was just saying I could help Y/N withââ
âWeâre fine,â she cuts in.
Her tone could slice bone.
He hesitates, looking between the two of you.
You open your mouth to protestâ
She presses lightly on the top of your chair.
A warning.
Not to him.
To you.
You exhale slowly. âItâs fine. Thanks, though.â
He nods awkwardly and walks away.
The second heâs gone, you turn to her.
âWhat is your problem?â
She doesnât look at you. She just takes her seat, opens her laptop, and says:
âHe was being loud.â
âHe wasnât loud.â
âHe was being annoying.â
âHe wasnât annoying.â
She clicks her pen aggressively. âHe was breathing.â
You stare. âNayeonââ
She shuts her laptop slowly. Deliberately.
Then she gives you a lookâflat, irritated, impossible to read.
âYouâre too trusting,â she says.
You almost laugh. âOh my god. Are you seriouslyâ?â
âAnyone offers âhelpâ and you just say yes. No hesitation. No boundaries.â She shakes her head. âItâs pathetic.â
Your jaw tightens. âI can choose who I work with.â
âYou already have someone to work with.â
The tone isnât angry.
Itâs just⊠factual.
Which somehow makes it worse.
You fold your arms. âYou donât own the project.â
Her eyes flick to yoursâsharp, offended, somewhere between fury and something else.
She leans forward slightly.
âNo,â she says. âBut youâre my partner.â
For some reason, that sentence lands way heavier than it should.
You swallow. âSo what? Iâm not allowed to accept help from other people?â
âYouâre allowed,â she says, shrugging. âJust not while Iâm here.â
âWhat does that even mean?â
âIt meansâ she pauses, choosing her words slowly, carefully âif you bring in people who donât know what theyâre doing, it makes my job harder.â
âThat wasnât what it sounded like.â
She closes her laptop again.
She simply stands, gathers her things, looks down at you with that infuriating, controlled expression.
âWe need better examples for the âloss of real-world communication skillsâ section,â she says. âYouâre coming with me.â
âWhere?â
âObservation study.â She slings her bag over her shoulder. âThe cafeteria.â
You sigh, grab your bag, and follow her.
You end up sitting with her at a corner table, silently observing how groups interact with their phones.
You take notes. She judges you.
âYouâre writing too slowly,â she murmurs.
âYouâre writing too harshly.â
âItâs called accuracy.â
âItâs called being insufferable.â
She ignores you, eyes locked on a group of girls taking selfies and barely talking.
âSee?â she whispers. âReal-world communication decline. Direct evidence.â
âAre you⊠excited about this?â
She blinks, confused. âExcited?â
âYeah.â
Her eyebrows knit together.
Like you just accused her of a crime.
âThis project is worth half our grade,â she says. âOf course Iâmââ
She stops.
You tilt your head. âWhat?â
She clears her throat. âI want to do well.â
âThatâs it?â
She looks away, nose slightly scrunchingâan expression youâve never seen her make.
âItâs nice,â she whispers.
âWhat is?â
She tenses immediately.
And you knowâ
You know she didnât mean to say anything at all.
She stands up abruptly.
âWeâre done here.â
âWe barely began.â
âI said weâre done.â
She walks out the cafeteria doors without waiting for you.
Again.
You should let her go.
You should let her be moody and confusing on her own.
But you find yourself standing up anyway.
Following her again.
And when she catches you in the reflection of a glass doorâ
she hides her smile so fast you almost miss it.
Almost.
Youâre halfway through band practice when your phone vibrates.
Not the group chat.
Not your notifications.
Not the shared doc.
A call.
From a number you donât have saved.
A number Nayeon refused to give you.
You stare at it.
âOh my god,â your guitarist says, âare you gonna answer that or watch it ring for dramatic effect?â
You sigh and pick up.
âWhat?â
Thereâs a sharp inhale on the other end.
âYouâre not home.â
Itâs Nayeon.
Stating it like she owns a GPS tracker on your skull.
âNope,â you say, hitting a cymbal absentmindedly. âSome of us have hobbies.â
She ignores the jab. âWe need to finalize the section tonight. Come to my place.â
You laugh. Not kindly.
âAnd why would I do that?â
A pause.
A long one.
Like she didnât think sheâd need a follow-up.
âBecause we have work to do,â she finally says. âAnd I want to finish it.â
You shake your head. âNayeon, youâve been bossy, controlling, condescending, and honestly?âannoying as hell all week. If you want me to drop everything and show up at your apartment, you better give me one good reason.â
Your guitarist mouths damn behind her amp.
Nayeon exhales, frustrated. âY/N, donât be difficult.â
âIâm not being difficult. Iâm busy.â
âWith what?â
âIâm practicing.â
She scoffs. âWith those people?â
âWow, okayââ
âI didnât meanââ
She stops herself, restarts. âI meant the project is due. Youâre choosing this over our grade?â
âOur grade?â you question. âYour grade is fine either way.â
Silence.
Then the softest, most begrudging sentence Im Nayeon has ever spoken:
âCan you⊠come?â
Your band all freeze like background NPCs.
You swallow.
âItâs gonna take a while,â you say. âAnd Iâm not leaving mid-practice. You want me, you can wait.â
Thereâs another pause.
A long breath.
ââŠFine.â
You werenât expecting that.
âFine?â you repeat.
âIâll wait,â she mutters. âJust tell me when youâre done.â
She hangs up before you can react.
Your band stares at you like you just seduced the devil.
Youâre packing up when your guitarist peeks out the door.
âUh⊠Y/N?â
âWhat?â
âYour⊠project partner is here.â
You look up.
Nayeon.
In the hallway.
Expensive coat.
Crossed arms.
Resting bitch face fully equipped.
Waiting.
Actually waiting.
Like someone forced her but she still showed up anyway.
She sees you and instantly looks away, pretending to check her phone like she didnât just stand outside a music room for an hour.
Your band whispers.
âSheâs so into you.â
âSheâs obsessed.â
âThatâs a menace with a crushâBE CAREFUL.â
You ignore all of it and step out.
Nayeonâs eyes snap to you immediately.
âYou took long,â she says.
âYou came early,â you counter.
She doesnât reply because both statements are true.
She gestures stiffly. âLetâs go.â
You follow her out of the building, and she walks fastâfaster than usual, like sheâs trying to hide the fact that she came to get you.
You smirk a little.
She notices.
âWhat?â she snaps.
âNothing. Youâre just⊠intense today.â
âIâm always intense.â
âYeah,â you say, âbut today you look like you ran on jealousy and caffeine.â
She trips.
Actually trips.
Catches herself. Clears her throat.
âI donât get jealous,â she says.
âSure.â
âI donât.â
âOkay.â
âStop smiling.â
You smile harder.
You arrived.
Nayeonâs room is too clean.
Too quiet.
Too⊠Nayeon.
You sit on her floor, back against her bed frame, watching her pace like sheâs trying to wear a hole through the carpet.
Sheâs been like that since you got hereâagitated, annoyed, restless.
Like sheâs mad at you for something you didnât do or sheâs mad at herself for something she wonât say.
Finally she stops pacing and throws herself into her desk chair.
âYouâre impossible, you know that?â she snaps.
You blink. âI literally didnât do anything.â
âThatâs the problem.â
You stare. âWhat?â
She wonât look at you. Sheâs scrolling something on her laptop like itâs personally responsible for her bad mood.
You check your phone, exhausted. âOkay⊠then why did you drag me here? You marched into band practice likeâlike you owned the place.â
âSomeone had to,â she mutters.
You set your phone down. âFor what?â
She sharply closes her laptop.
Hard enough to echo.
âYou werenât answering.â
âNot that,â she says quickly, voice tight. âThe doc.â
Ah.
The project.
âFor fifty minutes,â she continues, arms crossed defensively. âI left three comments. Three. And you answered none.â
You stare at her. âI was practicing.â
âAnd?â she snaps.
âAnd you knew I was practicing.â
She huffs like you just offended her on a spiritual level.
âI assumed your priorities would at least be balanced.â
âBalanced?â You laugh. âYou mean you want them to be exactly how you want.â
She doesnât deny it.
Of course she doesnât.
You take a breath. âNayeon. You couldâve just said you wanted to work today.â
She looks at you then.
Really looks.
And for the first time, she doesnât look annoyed.
She looks cornered.
Like sheâs fighting herself.
âI donât have to say it,â she finally mutters.
âYes, you do,â you say quietly. âOtherwise I donât know what the hell you want from me.â
She hates that.
Hates it so much she stands up, walks to her dresser like she needs distance, like she needs space to think.
She picks up a water bottleâputs it back down.
Touches her hairâdrops her hand.
Then exhales through her nose.
âI donâtâŠâ she begins, voice low, âI donât like it when you disappear.â
You freeze.
She immediately backtracks, panicking.
âI didnât meanâ not likeâ I justâ youâre my partner. My partner. It reflects on me if youâre notââ
âYou couldâve just said you missed me,â you tease.
She glares daggers. âKill yourself.â
There she is.
Classic Nayeon defense mechanism.
But her ears turn pink.
You stand.
She watches you like youâre approaching a bomb she planted but forgot how to defuse.
You step closer.
Not enough to scare her offâjust enough that she canât look away.
âNayeon,â you murmur, âyou brought me all the way here because I didnât respond for fifty minutes.â
She doesnât move.
You tilt your head.
âAnd youâre telling me thatâs⊠normal behavior?â
She swallows.
Barely.
âDonât make it weird,â she warns.
âYou made it weird.â
âNo.â
She shakes her head.
âYou just donât know how to take responsibility for things.â
âLike what?â you challenge softly.
âLike,â she says, eyes flicking everywhere except your face, âthe way youâŠshow up then donât and I have to act like it doesnât matterââ
She stops herself.
Silence.
Sharp.
Heavy.
âNayeon?â you whisper.
She crosses her arms, shoulders tight. âIf youâre going to be in thisâthis projectââthen be in it.â
You step even closer.
âYou want me here?â
She tenses.
Her jaw clenches like sheâs physically restraining a truth fighting to escape.
ââŠYes,â she says. Barely audible.
The softest she has ever spoken to you.
You inhale.
And she instantly ruins it.
âBut donât get any ideas.â
You laugh under your breath. âRight. No ideas.â
âGood,â she says, turning away too quickly.
She thinks she won that exchange.
She absolutely did not.
Because the truth?
She let you see it.
For a second.
The tiniest crack in her armor.
And youâll never forget the look on her face when she admitted she wanted you here.
Even if sheâll pretend she didnât.
The next morning, you walk into class expecting not softness, exactly, but maybe neutrality.
A truce.
A ceasefire.
After all, last night she basically admitted she wanted you around.
So you walk inâ yawn, stretch, take your seat.
And Nayeon doesnât even look at you.
She glares.
Full, hostile.
You freeze halfway into sitting.
ââŠMorning?â you try.
She scoffs. Loud. Dramatic.
So everyone hears.
She pulls her chair 2 whole feet away from you.
Drags it across the floor with the loudest scraping possible.
You blink. âOkay. Someoneâs in a mood.â
âIâm not in a mood,â she snaps instantly.
So sheâs in a mood.
You open the shared doc on your laptop.
Thereâs a brand new comment waiting.
It says:
âFix your section. Itâs embarrassing.â
You didnât even write anything new.
You turn your head slowly.
âDid you just insult work that doesnât exist yet?â
âIt will exist,â she says coldly.
âAnd itâll be embarrassing.â
You roll your eyes. âYouâre impossible.â
âYouâre late.â
âItâs literally 8:01.â
âClass started at 8.â
âNo, Nayeon, the building opens at 8ââ
She cuts you off with a sharp, irritated hiss.
People start whispering.
Someone mutters, âTheyâre fighting again.â
Nayeon hears it.
Straightens.
Because of course she loves an audience.
She leans back in her chair, arms crossed, and says in a voice loud enough to travel.
âYou know whatâs actually crazy? Some people need to be babysat through a basic project.â
Your jaw drops. âAre you talking about me right now?â
She tilts her head, fake-innocent.
âI donât see anyone else here who forgets their responsibilities because of a band practice.â
You blink.
Oh, sheâs swinging low today.
âWow,â you say softly. âYouâre really doing this.â
âDoing what?â she says sweetly. âStating facts?â
You shut your laptop before you throw it.
âOkay. Is this about last night?â
Her eyes widen a millisecondâcaughtâbut she recovers fast, face stiff as concrete.
âNothing happened last night.â
âRight. You didnât drag me across campus because I didnât replyââ
âThat never happened.â
âAnd you definitely didnât say you wanted me thereââ
She slams her binder shut like sheâs killing a spider.
âI said youâre my partner,â she hisses. âNot myâwhateverâridiculous idea youâre having.â
You lean closer.
She leans back immediately.
âYouâre overcompensating,â you say quietly.
She freezes.
You continue, voice low. âYou got vulnerable for ten seconds, and now youâre malfunctioning.â
Her face does a full system error.
She blinks.
âShut up,â she whispers.
You grin.
âYou are. Youâre malfunctioning.â
âIâm notââ
She touches her hair, flustered.
âMalfunctioning.â
âThen why are you acting like I murdered your dog?â
âBecause youâ!â
She stops herself.
Bites her lip.
Rebuilds her walls in real time.
She storms to the front of the room.
Tells the professor:
âCan we switch partners? Mine wonât stop being a distraction.â
Your jaw drops so hard it hits the desk.
Your professor looks up, exhausted.
âNo, Im Nayeon. Sit down.â
She returns to her seat like a cat that failed a jump and wants to pretend it was intentional.
You mutter, âYouâre unbelievable.â
âGood,â she snaps. âStay impressed.â
You stare at her.
Sheâs doing everything she can to erase the fact that she wanted you around yesterday.
But the pink on her ears?
The twitch in her jaw?
The fact that she keeps checking if youâre looking, then glaring when you are?
Yeah.
She remembers last night.
And she hates how much she remembers.
The project requires 2 main interviews.
Basic. Easy. Nothing dramatic should happen.
Except youâre paired with Nayeon, so naturally, it becomes a psychological thriller.
You meet at the media lab after class, gear packed, questions prepared.
Youâre ready.
Nayeon walks in looking like she wants to fight God.
She doesnât greet you. She doesnât even look at you.
Just drops her bag on the table and says. âDonât mess this up.â
You sigh. âNice to see you too.â
She ignores you and checks the camera settingsâtoo aggressively, like the ISO personally offended her.
The first interviewee arrives.
A senior named Giselleâfriendly smile, warm energy, way too comfortable talking to strangers.
âHi! Oh, youâre Y/N, right?â she says brightly.
You nod.
She smiles wider.
Nayeonâs head snaps up.
Her eyes narrow.
You donât noticeâyet.
Giselle sits for the interview.
Nayeon asks the prepared questions.
Everything is going smoothly.
Until Giselle laughs at something you say.
Like, really laughs.
Head tilt, scrunchy eyes, hand-on-your-arm level laughing.
And Nayeonâs expression goes from
đ«„ â đ â đ â đĄ
You finally catch her glare.
You mouth, what?
She mouths back, stop talking.
You frown.
âWeâre literally interviewing herââ
âStop talking,â she repeats silently but violently.
Giselle keeps smiling at you.
Nayeonâs jaw keeps tightening.
When the interview ends, Giselle stands, thanks you both, thenâ
then she turns to you specifically, âIf you ever need extra footage or a follow-up interview⊠just let me know.â
Followed by a wink.
A WINK.
You freeze.
Nayeon does not freeze.
She combusts.
âActually,â Nayeon says sharply, stepping between you and Yeojin, âweâre done. No follow-ups needed.â
Giselle blinks. âOhâokay?â
âWe have everything we need,â Nayeon insists. âEverything.â
Giselle glances at you, confused but polite.
âUm⊠well, good luck then!â
She leaves.
The door closes.
Silence.
You turn to Nayeon.
ââŠWhat was that?â
She doesnât look at you.
She starts checking the tripod again for no reason.
âInterview,â she says flatly.
âNo, your attitude.â
âShe winked at you.â
You choke.
âOh my god,â you whisper, âyou are jealous.â
Nayeon straightens, horror in her eyes.
âI am NOT jealous!â
She throws her pen. âTHAT was notâ THAT WASâ SHEââ
Words.
Gone.
Dead on arrival.
You cross your arms. âUh-huh.â
Her voice rises.
âIâm just protecting the project!â
âFrom what? Compliments?â
âFrom distractions!â
You stare.
She stares back.
She looks away first.
Every time.
You take a step forward.
She takes a small step back but refuses to look intimidated.
âTell me the truth,â you say softly.
âDid it bother you?â
She rolls her eyes. âNo.â
âThen why are you red?â
âIâm not.â
âYouâre literally turning pink.â
âItâs the lighting.â
âThere is no lighting. Weâre in a fluorescent lab.â
She clenches her jaw.
Finally she mutters, barely audible:
âShe didnât need to touch your arm.â
You blink.
There it is.
A confession wrapped in pettiness, dipped in denial, served with rage.
You raise a brow. âSo you did get jealous.â
Her eyes snap up to yours.
And her voice, sharp and quiet, says:
âShut up.â
You grin.
She hates that you grin.
Before you can tease more, the next interviewee knocks.
Nayeon inhales, resets her entire face, and saysâ
âAct professional.â
âYou first.â
She stomps your foot.
You bite your tongue to stop from laughing.
And as the next person walks in, Nayeon sits closer to you than necessaryâ
shoulder almost brushing yours, posture straight, fake neutral expression hiding a storm.
Sheâs mean.
Sheâs controlling.
Sheâs impossible.
But jealous?
Yeah.
Jealousy looks good on her.
Editing day.
The documentary is halfway done, and Nayeon insisted the footage needed to be âcleaned upâ â which, in Nayeon language, means redoing everything because the lighting offended her aesthetic.
So here you are, in the media lab again.
You thought last time was bad.
You had not yet experienced Nayeon with a real rival.
You walk in and see her already there, headphones around her neck, eyes narrowed at her laptop like it personally betrayed her.
She doesnât look up when she said, âYouâre late.â
You check your watch.
âYou told me 6:00. It is 6:00.â
She clicks something aggressively.
âYouâre still late.â
Right. Okay. Round one.
You sit beside her and start importing clips.
After a few minutes, she hums.
You glance over.
Sheâs staring at the screen, lips pursed.
Then she said, âDonât⊠laugh as much.â
You blink. âWhat?â
âIn the interview clips,â she says, frowning. âYou laugh too easily.â
âThatâs how conversations work.â
âItâs distracting,â she snaps.
You narrow your eyes. âNayeon, whatâs your problem?â
She doesnât answer.
Instead she clicks to another clipâ
The one with that student, Minho, who asked if you were free after the interview.
Heâs smiling way too much.
Youâre smiling back.
And Nayeonâs hand tightens on the mouse like she wants to crush it.
She mutters under her breath:
âHe wasnât even funny.â
You choke.
Ah. Here we go.
âNayeon,â you say carefully, âare youââ
âNO.â
âYou donât even know what Iâm going toââ
âNO.â
You try not to smirk.
âSo you werenât jealous of Giselle yesterday, and now youâre not jealous of Minho today. Pattern?â
She turns in her chair, finally facing you.
Her voice is low. Sharp. Defensive.
âI just think youâre too⊠easily impressed.â
You raise a brow. âBy what? Nice people?â
She glares. âBy mediocre people.â
âOh my god,â you whisper, âyou are jealous.â
Her nostrils flare.
âNayeonââ
âIâm not jealous,â she says, annunciating every syllable like she wants to stab you with them. âI just donât like watching you act like youâreââ
She stops.
You wait.
She swallows.
ââavailable.â
Your breath catches.
You open your mouth to respondâ
But then the door opens.
A student from your music class sticks their head in.
âOh, Y/N! You left your drumsticks in the studio. I was gonna message you later.â
You smile gratefully. âOhâthanks!â
They walk inside and hand them to you.
âBy the way, your band sounded sick last practice.â
âThanks,â you say, scratching your neck. âWeâre trying to fix the bridge on the new songââ
âYou should show me sometime.â
You laugh. âMaybe.â
Behind you, a chair squeaks slowly.
You turn.
Nayeon looks like sheâs watching a crime.
Her smile is tight.
Her eyes are ice.
Her voice is sweet like poison.
âSorry,â she says, leaning back. âWeâre actually very busy. The documentary is on a deadline. So unless youâre planning to become our B-roll, maybe try flirting outside the media lab.â
Your jaw drops.
The poor student blinks, startled.
âOhâuhâsorry. Didnât mean to interrupt.â
They leave immediately.
The door closes.
Silence.
You turn to her, stunned.
ââŠWhat was THAT?â
âEfficiency,â Nayeon replies flatly.
âThat was homicide in sentence form.â
She shrugs. âThey needed to leave.â
âThey were giving me my drumsticks!â
âThey were lingering.â
âThey were TALKING.â
âThey were drooling,â she snaps.
You stare.
She stares backâand for the first time, you see it clearly.
Sheâs jealous.
Sheâs jealous, and she hates that sheâs jealous, and she hates that you know sheâs jealous.
You lean forward, voice softening.
âNayeon⊠are youââ
She cuts you off again.
But this time, the word is quiet.
Almost⊠quiet enough to admit something.
âNo.â
She looks away, fists tightening.
âNo,â she repeats, softer.
ââŠkeep editing.â
But her voice is strained.
And her hands are shaking.
And when your shoulders bump as you both reach for the same keyboard shortcutâ
She flinches like she felt something she wasnât prepared for.
Jealous Nayeon isnât just mean.
Sheâs slipping.
And she knows it.
Band practice is loud.
Loud enough that you donât hear the door open.
Loud enough that you donât notice someone standing there.
Not until the song ends and you turn your headâ
âand see Nayeon, arms crossed, expression carved from annoyance and jealousy sheâs not even disguising.
Your bandmate, Mark, laughs while wiping sweat off his forehead.
âHey, want to grab dinner later? Thereâs this newââ
âNo.â
Both you and Mark look at her.
Nayeon steps forward like she owns the building.
âNo,â she repeats, staring right at him. âSheâs not free.â
Your eyebrows shoot up.
âExcuse me?â
Nayeon ignores you completely, like youâre an NPC she hasnât unlocked yet.
Mark blinks.
âUh⊠okay? Did youâdid you two plan something?â
âNo,â you answer.
âYes,â she says at the same time.
You glare at her.
She refuses to look at you.
You open your mouth to argue, but Nayeon movesâfastâto your wrist and grabs it like youâre a toddler about to walk into traffic.
âBreakâs over,â she says coldly. âWeâre leaving.â
âLeaving?â you snap. âWeâre in the middle ofâ Nayeon!â
But sheâs already dragging you out of the room.
Your bandmates stare after you, wide-eyed.
One whispers, âBro, is she⊠is she allowed to do that?â
Youâre too busy being hauled down the hallway by a 5â4 menace with a superiority complex to respond.
When you both reach the empty stairwell, you yank your hand back.
âWhat is wrong with you?!â
Nayeon finally stops.
Turns around.
And there it is.
That expression youâve only seen once or twiceâthe one where she looks like she wants to fight you and confess to you at the same time.
She scoffs, flipping her hair like sheâs trying to hide the flush on her face.
âYouâre seriously going to let him take you out?â
âYou donât get to decide who I go with.â
âI do when youâre being stupid.â
Your jaw drops.
âStupid?!â
âYes,â she snaps. âStupid for not seeingââ
She cuts herself off.
You step closer, heart racing.
âFor not seeing what?â
She swallows.
âThat he likes you,â she mutters, arms crossed so tightly they might snap. âIt was obvious.â
âSo? What if he does?â
Nayeonâs eyes snap to yours.
Sharp.
Threatening.
Panicked.
âNo,â she says quietly. âNot âso.ââ
You tilt your head.
This is it â the crack in her armor.
âWhy do you care?â you ask softly.
She blinks once.
Her whole posture stiffens like you just cornered a wild animal.
âIââ
Her voice catches.
âI had⊠plans.â
You raise a brow.
âPlans? Since when do you want to hang out with me outside, yelling at me over a project?â
Her jaw works.
She looks at the floor.
Then she breathes out, shaky and furious at herself.
âSince I started liking you.â
Everything stops.
You donât move.
She doesnât breathe.
There.
Itâs out.
Not gentle, not shyâ
just ripped out of her like a confession sheâs held in her mouth too long and it burned her tongue.
You whisper, âWhat?â
She lifts her chin stubbornly.
âYou heard me.â
You step closer.
Her breath hitches but she doesnât step back.
âNayeon,â you say softly, âyouâve been nothing but mean to me.â
She flinches.
âI know.â
âAnd impossible.â
âI know.â
âAnd exhausting.â
She shuts her eyes.
ââŠI know.â
You exhale.
âBut I still like you.â
Her eyes fly open, so wide itâs almost funny.
âYouâ? Since when? Why? How?â
You laugh quietly.
âSee? This is why you confuse me.â
She mutters something under her breath that sounds like âoh my godâÂ
You take her hand.
Not to pull her.
Not to be dragged.
Just⊠to hold.
Her grip tightens immediatelyâlike sheâs afraid youâll disappear if she doesnât.
For once, she doesnât have anything mean to say.
She just looks at you.
Raw.
Unguarded.
Soft.
And absolutely yours.
âSo,â you murmur, âwhat were your âplansâ?â
She clears her throat, pretending she didnât just bare her soul in a stairwell.
âDinner,â she says.
âMovie.â
A pause.
ââŠAnd maybe kissing.â
You freeze.
She smirks, recovering her confidence at light speed.
âWhat?â she teases. âYou thought I dragged you out here just to glare at you?â
You groan.
âUnbelievable.â
She steps closer, smirk fading into something much more sincere.
âCome with me?â
You look into her eyes â still sharp, still Nayeon, but warm in the way she only ever lets you see.
âYeah,â you say.
Her fingers lace with yours.
âGood,â she whispers, cheeks pink.
âBecause Iâm not letting anyone else take you.â
hear me out, reader does smth dumb and has to have futch!jihyo who's an emt/firefighter (whichever one u want) help her
and y'know...the reader wants to thank her knight in shining armor đ€
warnings. smut, firefighter!futch!jihyo, fem!reader, cunnilingus, short :/
accidentally getting your hand stuck in a railing was less than ideal. the embarrassment of the situation settled in your body, warming up your skin as your friends laughed at your stupidity. but thank god you were dumb; if you hadn't, you wouldn't have gotten to meet the hot firefighter who arrived to help.
she stuck out from the rest of the crewâtoned, kind, and so very hot. i mean, hot enough that your knees felt weak at the sight of her. firefighters were your weakness, and she was really doing it for you. as if a blessing, you managed to get her number and name. jihyo. park jihyo. how would your name sound paired with her family name, you wondered..
with newfound confidenceâmainly thanks to your friends who fed into your delusionsâyou texted, initiating small talk before asking the one question you'd been fantasizing about asking her: "can i make it up to you?"
and, to your delight, she was more than willing to take you up on the offer.
you had her splayed out on your bed, clothing discarded on the floor as you worked diligently on her pussy. your hands lightly grabbed onto her hips, pulling her closer to smother your face with her sweetness. if you died in between her legs from how you were practically suffocating yourself, you'd die a happy woman.
jihyo's eyes were shut, body wrecked from the pleasure you were supplying her with. her hand blindly reached down, finding your head to pull you closer. you happily allowed her, nose bumping her pussy as you covered your face in her bare sex.
The apartment is quiet when Momo arrives home â quiet enough that the sound of the front door slamming makes you jump.
You peek over the couch just in time to see her kicking off her shoes, hair in perfect runway waves. Glowy.
Dangerously confident.
She notices you staring and smirks, lifting one of the pink VS bag.
âI brought you something,â she says, voice sweet⊠but her eyes are not.
You sit up. âWhat is it?â
Her smirk widens.
âYouâll see. Go try it.â
âThat fast?â
âYes,â she deadpans. âUnless you want me to carry you to the bathroom.â
You roll your eyes and grab the bag.
âGo,â she whispers, teasing. âBefore I get impatient.â
You escape to the bathroom.
Inside the bag is something that makes your brain blank for a second.
Itâs lace. Sheer.
Barely there.
âMomoâŠâ you whisper to no one.
You put it on anyway â because she asked, and because ⊠yeah.
Yeah.
When you open the bathroom door, sheâs sitting on the couch with her hair pushed back, one leg draped over the other, posture relaxed but eyes sharp.
The moment she sees you, she doesnât move.
Not even breathe.
Her gaze drags over you so slowly it feels like a physical touch.
ââŠoh my god,â she finally whispers.
âWhat?â you ask, pretending innocence despite the way your stomach flips at her stare.
âYou lookââ
She stops.
Starts again.
âYou look like you were made for this.â
Your face heats. âItâs not that seriousââ
âIt is,â she says, standing up.
She walks toward you, step by step, until sheâs close enough that your knees almost touch.
Her hand lifts â hesitates â then lands on your waist.
Her fingers skim the lace once, deliberately.
âTurn around,â she murmurs, voice low.
You do, and her breath visibly catches.
âAgain,â she adds.
You spin back to face her and she looks⊠wrecked.
Eyes dark.
Lips parted.
Jaw tense like sheâs restraining herself.
âMomoââ
âYou can take it off now,â she interrupts quietly.
You blink.
ââŠwhaââ
âThe lingerie.â
Her voice drops further.
âYou can take it off.â
You take half a step back, heartbeat loud.
âOkay, Iâll change in the bathââ
Her hand wraps around your wrist.
Firm.
Warm.
Excruciatingly slow as she pulls you back.
âNo,â she whispers, gaze burning.
âNot in the bathroom.â
You swallow.
ââŠwhere, then?â
She moves closer, chest almost touching yours, her forehead nearly brushing yours when she leans down.
âRight here,â she breathes.
You inhale sharply.
Then, purposely, you challenge:
âWhy donât you take it off for me?â
Her grip on your wrist tightens just a little â not enough to hurt, just enough to make your knees weaken.
âOh,â she murmurs, smirking. âSo thatâs how you want to play?â
âYouâre the one who bought it,â you tease softly, âso⊠shouldnât you be the one removing it?â
She steps forward again, leaving no space at all between you.
Her voice drops to a dangerous whisper.
âBabe⊠Iâve been thinking about doing that since the moment you opened the door.â
Your breath catches.
Her hand slides from your wrist⊠to your waist⊠resting just under the lace.
âLast chance,â she says, lips brushing your ear.
âLet me do it⊠or go change alone.â
You exhale shakily.
âYou.â
She pulls back just enough to look at you â eyes warm, dark, hungry.
Then she smiles.
Slow.
Knowing.
Almost predatory.
âGood girl.â
Your knees nearly give out.
Her fingers slip up your waist, brushing the straps with deliberate slowness.
âCome here,â she whispers, guiding you backward toward the couch, her breath warm on your neck.
âAnd let me take my time with every. Single. Piece.â
Honestly, the plan was to sleep until noon, maybe wipe down your bike, maybe scroll until your thumb got tired. But then a friend sent you a lazy:
âTrack day at the usual spot. If youâre bored, come through.â
And boredom is dangerous, because 20 minutes later you were at the gate, helmet in hand, your Yamaha YZF-R1 humming under you like it was excited to be outside again.
The paddock is already alive â engines warming, hoods open, tires squeaking against asphalt. It smells like gasoline, burnt rubber, and someoneâs cheap instant coffee. Familiar. Comfortable.
Youâre adjusting your gloves when something low and wickedly tuned growls behind you.
You turn.
A Nissan GT-R NISMO rolls in, white paint catching every shred of sun. The kind of car that sounds like it has no business being street legal. People immediately start staring, whispering.
And then the driver gets out.
And you understand why theyâre whispering.
Sana.
Youâve never seen her in person, but youâve definitely heard the track-day myths â the âGT-R girl,â the one who races every weekend like sheâs chasing something only she can see, the one who apparently knows how to flirt with her eyes and her engine.
She pulls off her sunglasses, tucks them into her shirt, and you immediately forget whatever sentence your brain was building.
She looks around.
Her eyes land on you.
She smiles.
Youâre done.
âHey, Iâm Sana.â she says, stepping closer like youâre familiar, like she already knows you. âYou here for laps too?â
You manage a nod. âY/N.. yeah.â
âNice bike,â she says, gaze sliding slowly down your R1. It feels intentional. Too intentional. âBet sheâs fast.â
âShe is,â you say.
She tilts her head. âFaster than me?â
You snort. âYou donât even know how I ride.â
âWellâŠâ She taps her lip with her thumb, amused. âIâm planning to find out.â
Your heartbeat does a weird, inconvenient thing.
Someone calls the warmup line. Sana backs toward her GT-R, eyes still locked on yours.
âRide with me,â she says. âWarm laps. Side by side.â
Itâs not a request.
Itâs a dare.
You pull up beside her at pit exit, her window rolled down. Her elbow rests casually on the frame, her smirk way too self-satisfied.
âYou ready?â she asks.
âTry me.â
Her smile sharpens. âOh, I will.â
The flag drops.
Your bike launches.
Her GT-R roars behind you â deep, controlled, hungry.
You take the first corner tight. She follows with impossible precision, swinging wide and sliding in beside you like itâs choreography. Every time you accelerate, she responds. Every time you brake late, she brakes later.
At one straightaway she pulls ahead, hair whipping inside her cabin, her grin visible even through the tinted glass.
Sheâs not racing.
Sheâs playing.
The tension isnât competitive â not fully.
It feels like flirting at 200 km/h.
By the final lap, youâre not sure which is louder: your bike or your pulse.
You cross the line barely ahead of her.
When you park in the paddock, youâre still catching your breath when Sana steps out of her car.
She looks flushed from adrenaline â cheeks warm, eyes bright, expression unfairly cocky.
She approaches you slowly, running a hand through her hair as she stops in front of you.
âYouâre good,â she says, voice low from the ride. âLike⊠annoyingly good.â
âThanks,â you say. âYou werenât bad either.â
âNot bad?â she repeats, pretending to be offended. She steps closer â close enough that you smell her perfume, faint vanilla and something warm. âYou sure you wanna call me ânot badâ when I nearly passed you twice?â
âYou didnât.â
âI got close.â
She leans in a little.
âAnd you looked good in my mirror.â
Your breath catches.
She notices.
Of course she does.
She steps back with a teasing smile. âCome on. Walk with me?â
You follow her toward the car displays because what else are you supposed to do when someone like Sana tells you to walk with her?
She wanders through the lineup, talking about engines, turbos, brake kits â excited, fast, nerdy as hell. And you match her without even thinking, tossing specs back and forth, comparing notes, laughing at each otherâs takes.
She lights up every time you explain something she didnât know.
You catch her staring more than once.
Then you drift toward the big bike section.
She slows, almost shy.
âYouâre⊠kind of in your element here,â she says, watching you trace a hand along a Ducatiâs fairing.
âYou like bikes?â you ask.
âI like watching you like them.â
You freeze.
She doesnât.
Instead she steps closer, shoulder brushing yours â subtle but intentional.
People stare.
Not at the bikes.
At you two.
Sana ignores them.
She turns her body toward you, expression softer now, warmer around the edges.
âSoâŠâ she says, voice dipping just slightly, âyou doing anything after this?â
You shake your head. âNo.â
Her smile grows â slow, pleased.
âThenâŠâ she pokes your chest lightly, ââŠlet me buy you coffee.â
You blink. âCoffee?â
She nods, biting back a grin.
âYou beat me on the track. The least I can do is caffeinate you.â
âThat your way of asking me out?â
She lifts a brow. âDo you want it to be?â
Your throat goes dry.
Your stomach flips.
Your brain forgets every language you know.
She takes your silence as an answer anyway.
âGood,â she says softly. âBecause I kind of like the way you look at me.â
Youâre done for. Completely.
âCoffee,â she repeats, tilting her head.
âYou in?â
You try to play it cool.
You fail.
âYeah,â you say. âIâm in.â
Sana beams â actually beams â and itâs the kind of smile that makes you think she already planned the rest of your day.
âPerfect,â she says, brushing her fingers against yours as she walks ahead. âTry to keep up, rider.â
And you do.
Because she doesnât stop looking back at you like she wants you to follow her everywhere.
Im js silly like thatđ i have a ton of fic ideas so i will share one:
Sana and reader going on their first date and reader was being all awkward because she was secretly fan, she ended up getting exposed because sana saw her photocard on her phone/ in her wallet.
All you meant to do was help your best friend â Sanaâs manager â who had texted you at 6AM with the desperation of someone on the verge of collapsing
Manager Unnie: i left my charger at home and i have 3 meetings today PLEASE i beg u can u drop it off
You werenât doing anything, so of course you said yes.
When you arrived at the building, a staff member was supposed to take the charger from you⊠but the practice room door opened before you could even knock.
And there she was.
Sweat-damp hair tied loosely, oversized shirt, bare faced â Minatozaki Sana in the wild. Close enough that you could count eyelashes. And smiling at you like she recognized you.
âHi,â she said, breathless from rehearsal. âAre you Manager Unnieâs friend?â
You nodded so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash.
Sana laughed â soft, warm, unfairly charming â and held out her hand for the charger. When your fingers brushed, you swore your heart flatlined. She noticed. Of course she noticed. Sana always notices.
âThank you for saving her,â she said. âAnd me, actually. If her phone dies, we all die.â
You laughed â too loudly.
She liked that. You could tell.
You talked for maybe one minute, two at most â but it was enough for her to tilt her head, study your face a little longer than polite, and say
âDo you want me to accompany you outside? I can walk you out.â
Walk you out.
Like you needed an escort to the lobby instead of functioning legs.
Somehow you said yes.
And then â the part that still makes you question reality â the moment you left the building, your phone buzzed.
Manager Unnie: SANA ASKED FOR YOUR NUMBER WHAT DID YOU DO
You stared at the message for 5 full minutes before replying:
Y/N: ??? NOTHING???
Except apparently you did.
Because that night, another message came in.
Unknown number.
Sana: Hi, this is Sana :) Can I take you out to dinner as a thank you for helping us?
You almost dropped your phone.
You said yes before thinking.
She sent a heart before you could panic.
ïżŒ
And now here you are.
Standing at the meeting spot for your first date with Sana â who has no idea youâre a fan or that youâve watched every fancam sheâs ever breathed in.
Youâre determined to act normal.
Youâre determined not to embarrass yourself.
Youâre determined not to let her find out.
âŠAnd you will fail spectacularly.
Because Minatozaki Sana has a talent for discovering exactly the things youâre trying to hide.
Youâve been standing outside the restaurant for exactly 7 minutes, which is long enough for you to check your reflection in your phone screen 12 times, wonder if your outfit looks too formal, too casual, and mentally rehearse greetings that all sound equally stupid.
Youâre in the middle of debating whether to stand coolly or pretend you werenât waiting at all when you hear footsteps.
Thenâ
âSorry Iâm late.â
You turn.
And your brain immediately blue-screens.
Sana looks⊠different. Not idol-stage, not airport-fashion.
Sheâs in a simple black jacket zipped up, hair soft and wavy with her cap, lips glossy like she didnât mean to try but did anyway. And sheâs smiling at you like the wait was worth it.
Sanaâs eyes flick over your outfit â slow, deliberate â and she grins.
âYou look really cute.â
You short-circuit so violently you forget how to breathe.
âHâHuh?â
She steps closer âI said,â she repeats, playful now, âyou look cute. Is that okay to say?â
Your soul leaves your body.
âIâ yeah, of course, I justâ you lookâ alsoâ veryâ humanâ I meanâ goodââ
Sana laughs â a light, bubbling sound that hits you right in the chest.
âHuman? Wow, thatâs a new compliment.â
You cover your face. âPretend I didnât say that.â
âNot possible.â She nudges your arm with hers. âIâm going to remember that one.â
She pushes open the restaurant door for you, but before you can walk in, she leans slightly toward you â close enough that you feel her perfume warm in the air between you.
âYou know,â she murmurs, âyou donât have to be nervous around me.â
You freeze.
âIâm notââ
âYou are.â She smiles knowingly. âItâs cute.â
Her hand brushes the small of your back as she guides you inside, and your knees almost give up on life.
The moment youâre seated, she rests her chin on her hand and just⊠looks at you.
Like youâre the interesting one.
Like sheâs waiting for you to speak because she wants to hear all of it.
âSo tell me,â she says, kicking you lightly under the table, âam I the one making you nervous, or are you always like this on dates?â
You nearly choke on your own saliva.
âDates?â
Sana raises an eyebrow. âThis is a date. Right?â
You stare.
She stares back.
And then she smirks â soft, teasing, dangerously pretty.
âUnlessâŠâ she tilts her head, âyou donât like me that way?â
Your heart slams into your ribs.
âN-No! I do. I meanâ I like you. I meanâ not like a fanâ I meanââ
Her eyes sparkle.
âA fan?â she echoes, leaning forward. âShould I be flattered?â
You swallow hard.
Abort. Abort. This conversation is dangerous.
But she only laughs again, reaching for the menu.
âRelax. Iâm joking.â
A beat.
ââŠmostly.â
You hide behind the drink list.
But Sana keeps stealing glances at you.
Like she wants you to catch her doing it.
Like sheâs making it painfully obvious:
She likes you. A lot.
Youâre pretty sure your heart is going to give out before the appetizers even arrive.
Sana has been⊠like this the entire time.
Leaning close when she talks.
Laughing at everything you say â even the dumb throwaway comments.
Touching your hand when she wants your attention.
Any sane person would assume sheâs flirting.
But you?
No.
Absolutely not.
Youâve seen enough clips, fan edits, and compilation videos to know: Sana is like this with everyone.
You are not special.
She is diagnosing you with Delulu Disorder if you think otherwise.
So every time she leans in like sheâs whispering a secret?
You sit back.
Every time she compliments you?
You deflect like your life depends on it.
Which⊠she notices.
Painfully quickly.
âSo,â she says, sipping her drink and eyeing you over the rim, âyou still think Iâm joking.â
You blink. âHuh?â
She sets the glass down, smile subtle but sharp.
âYouâve been dodging me all night.â
âI have not.â
âYou literally almost fell out of your chair trying to avoid my hand.â
Sheâs not wrong.
You stare at the table. ââŠit startled me.â
âMm.â She leans back casually, crossing her legs. âAnd the compliments? Startled too?â
âYes,â you say honestly.
She bursts into giggles, head falling back.
God, sheâs beautiful.
âYouâre cute,â she says warmly.
You shake your head immediately. âYou say that to everyone.â
âOh?â She tilts her head. âDo I?â
âYes. Youâre⊠you know.â You gesture dramatically. âYouâre Sana.â
She laughs again â softer this time.
âSo what,â she says, âyou think I call everyone cute on first dates?â
Your heart stops. âThis isâ I meanâ you call lots of people cuteââ
âBut I didnât take them to dinner,â she cuts in smoothly.
You swallow hard.
She watches your expression change â the exact second her words land â and her smile softens, losing the teasing edge.
âHey,â she says, nudging your foot with hers, âIâm flirting with you.â
You freeze.
She lowers her voice.
âIâve been flirting with you since the moment I saw you.â
Your brain rejects this information.
You stare at her, trying to form a sentence. âButâ youâre like this oftenâ on showsâ with fansâ with membersââ
She shrugs lightly. âYeah. Iâm affectionate.â
âExactly,â you mutter. âSo I didnât want to assumeââ
She leans forward, resting her elbow on the table, chin on her hand.
âAssume now.â
Your breath catches.
Sheâs smiling â not wide, not giggly, just⊠warm. Intentional.
âI asked you out,â she reminds you. âNot anyone else.â
You open your mouth.
Then close it.
Because sheâs right.
But Sana keeps looking at you.
Soft. Focused.
Like youâre the only one here.
And you try your best not to read into it.
But itâs getting hard.
Very, very hard.
Dinner goes⊠suspiciously well.
You keep waiting for the moment you embarrass yourself, but Sana makes everything feel strangely easy.
She laughs at your jokes â even the ones that werenât really jokes â and she leans in when she listens, elbows on the table, chin on her hand, eyes bright like sheâs trying to memorize your face.
Which, honestly, is illegal.
Food arrives, and she hums happily before taking her first bite.
You look away immediately.
Why is she cute over grilled salmon?
Why is she cute breathing?
The check arrives quietly between you both.
âIâll pay,â you say fast, reaching.
Sana beats you to it, sliding the bill toward herself with one finger â nails painted a soft, glossy pink.
âNo,â she says, smiling like she already knows sheâs winning. âI asked you out. So Iâm paying.â
âYou donât have toââ
âI want to.â
She tilts her head, that small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.
âAnd youâre not going to fight me on our first date, right?â
Your brain short-circuits.
âF-firstâ I meanâ weâre notââ
She shrugs lightly, pretending innocence. Eyes sparkling.
Little menace.
You asked her to hand the bill and your arms knocked your wallet straight off the table.
You reach downâ
But Sana has already leaned over gracefully and picked it up.
And because your wallet is a traitor, it opens just enough when she lifts it.
Her eyes land on a photocard.
Her photocard.
She blinks once.
Twice.
Then looks at you.
A slow, playful smile spreads across her lips.
ââŠWell,â she says quietly, sliding the wallet onto the table in front of you, âthis explains why youâve been so shy.â
Your soul leaves your body.
âIâ itâs notâ I didnâtââ
Sana rests her chin on her hand again, smiling like sheâs watching the cutest show sheâs ever seen.
âSoâŠâ she says softly, âyouâre a fan.â
You want the earth to swallow you whole.
âCasual fan,â you mumble.
âCasual,â she echoes, raising an eyebrow. âBut my photocard lives in your wallet?â
You cover your face with both hands.
She laughs â soft, delighted, definitely not judging.
Then she gently pulls your hands down so she can see your expression.
âHey,â she says, voice warm, sincere beneath the teasing. âIâm not making fun of you. Itâs cute.â
âCute?â you echo, mortified.
She nods, eyes not leaving yours.
âAnd it makes me happy.â
Your heart thumps so hard youâre sure she can hear it.
Then Sana taps the bill again.
âNow let me pay. My fan shouldnât worry about dinner.â
You gape. âSanaââ
âYes?â she asks sweetly.
âThatâs not fair.â
âNo,â she says, leaning back with a grin, âbut itâs fun.â
She pays.
Easily.
Confidently.
Still smiling like she knows youâre going to replay this night until you die.
Say less.
Outside, the night air is cool â the kind that makes city lights look soft and dreamy.
Sana walks beside you, hands tucked into her pockets, shoulders brushing yours every few steps like sheâs doing it on purpose.
Youâre still recovering.
The photocard.
The smile she gave you.
She glances at you, stifling a laugh.
âYouâve been quiet since we left.â
âIâm⊠recalibrating,â you mumble.
âOh?â She bumps your arm playfully. âFrom what?â
You shoot her a look.
She grins wider.
âOkay, okay,â she says. âCan I ask something?â
You nod reluctantly.
Sana leans a little closer, voice dropping like sheâs sharing a secret.
âHow many photocards of me do you have?â
You nearly trip on air.
âWHYâ why would you ask thatââ
She giggles, actually giggles, like your suffering is the highlight of her night.
âYou had one in your wallet, so there must be more. Donât lie.â
âIâm not telling you.â
âThat means itâs a lot.â
You groan into your hands.
She pulls them down again â a habit she started exactly 15 minutes ago and apparently plans to continue for eternity.
âHey,â she says softly, eyes warm and teasing all at once. âItâs flattering. Really.â
You look away, cheeks burning.
âI didnât want to weird you out.â
âYou didnât.â
Sana nudges your shoulder.
âIf anything⊠it makes you even cuter.â
You freeze.
She notices.
Of course she notices.
Her voice softens, losing its playful edge just a bit.
âYou know,â she murmurs, âyou keep acting like Iâm just flirting because thatâs my personality.â
âBecause it is,â you mutter.
âMm.â
She tilts her head, studying your face.
âThen how do I make it clear that Iâm actually flirting with you?â
Your heart does a backflip off a building.
ââŠYouâre not serious,â you whisper before you can stop yourself.
Sana steps in front of you, stopping your walk entirely.
She looks up â eyes bright under the streetlight, lips curved in that soft, dangerous smile.
âI asked you out,â she says.
âI paid because I wanted to.â
âAnd I think itâs adorable you were nervous.â
She tucks a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.
âAnd yes,â she adds, voice dropping to something warm enough to melt bone, âI like you. Fan or not.â
Your breath catches.
She takes one step closer.
âAnd Iâd like to see you again.â
You blink. âLike⊠a second date?â
Sana laughs â breathy, relieved, like she was hoping youâd say it first.
âYeah. A second date.â
Your chest is doing fireworks.
âAnd maybe,â she adds, eyes flickering down to your lips for half a second, âa third.â
You swallow.
âAnd a fourth,â she murmurs.
Youâre malfunctioning.
Actually malfunctioning.
Sana reaches for your hand â slow, giving you every chance to pull away.
You donât.
Your fingers fit into hers so easily itâs stupid.
She squeezes lightly.
âSee?â she teases. âNot that scary.â
âYouâre terrifying.â
âOnly because you like me.â
She winks, then starts walking again, gently tugging you along by the hand.
You stare at her, dazed.
She glances back with a smug smile.
âSo⊠are you going to show me the rest of your photocards on our next date?â
âAbsolutely not.â
Sana laughs, glowing.
âThen I guess Iâll just have to keep taking you out until you trust me.â
âAnd how many dates is that?â
She thinks for a moment.
Then leans in, whispering beside your ear:
âForever.â
Your knees nearly give out.
Sana squeezes your hand again â warm, certain, unbothered by your internal collapse.
âSo,â she says casually, âsame time next week?â
hi!!! can u write abt reader -she could be a member of itzy or any other group- being a big fan of twice and pervy!nayeon n pervy!sana take advantage of that using her n making her do whatever they want. also them being so mean with her đ
pairing. dom!2na x sub!fem reader.
content warnings. dubcon.
imagine how exciting it is to be part of a group and be under the same label as your favorite group! itâs basically a dream come true because you literally grow up with your idol and the person who inspired you to do what you are, being able to be closer than you ever dreamed of and being able to have many interactions with that person đ„č itâs also quite a plus that groups under the same company always have a good relationship with each other, like you and twice in this case! kinda you being an idol because you knew them since their debut and they inspired you to be able to dare to fulfill your dreams, and now being under the same roof and being able to see them as many times as you want feels like a common dream that you would never want to wake up from! so beautiful to be able to be friends with the people you always dreamed of having a bond with, basically being much more than a relationship between artist and fan.
but what if they donât see things the same way... nayeon and sana appreciate you twice as much as the rest of the group members, looking almost charmed with you and always smiley whenever you are around! so innocent and cute, too bad his true intentions are more perverse than you could even imagine đ„° they know how to pretend when there are people around because they donât want trouble for this, completely changing once itâs just them alone because they can finally have that weird behavior and exchange their... questionable thoughts.
itâs a shame you were never aware of it and honestly thought they wanted a nice friendship and sweet bond with you đ„ș ugh they are cruel because they know perfectly well how to pretend and act to look credible and so that absolutely no one suspects or doubts, so everything was a piece of cake for them to act and achieve the goal without anything or anyone getting in the way and process! they are grateful for having the gift of being able to pretend perfectly and that no one around them is smart enough to question something because everything ends up being more than a piece of cake.
what starts as recording a tiktok challenge together and ends with them fucking you in the practice room, what a slip! nayeon being direct and taking action when it comes to acting, while sana acts being more subtle and slowly flirting with you until you are eating out of the palm of her hand, being more than an easy target for them to act on đ„° one moment the three of you were talking, the next moment the two of them had their hands on your body, blatantly touching you... nayeon being the main one to lead the situation because she is the most shameless between the two of them, having her mouth practically glued to your pussy and almost drooling all over your sex while sana kisses you to silence your whimpers and murmur sweet words against your lips đ« girlie being super patient and sweet with you because sheâll let nayeon finish you off so that itâs her turn and they can use you until youâre exhausted <3
ARTIST OF THE YEAR ââââ đČđ¶ đ·đȘđđźđžđ·.
ââââ ( đ ) under the harsh glow of studio lights, nayeonâs demand for an album the company refuses her twists into a confrontation that feels less like a request and more like a trap, her sharp ambition cutting into you until the argument slides from professional to personal, power to temptationâleaving you cornered in a space where her hunger for music and her hunger for you blur dangerously into the same thing.
đaring. mean dom!idol!im nayeon x sub!producer!fem reader.
the fluorescent hum of the studio lights was usually a comforting lull, a steady pulse against the controlled chaos of your work. today, however, it felt like an interrogation lamp, drilling into the back of your skull. you traced the worn grooves on your mixing board, a phantom chord reverberating in your mind from the track youâd meant to be finishing. but that was before nayeon breezed in, effectively turning your sanctuary into her personal battleground.
âagain, you need to work on an album for me, like, now,â she declared, her voice a melodic assault on the quiet. she perched on the edge of your ergonomic chair, not sitting properly, but rather balancing, a queen surveying her domain. her designer sneakers, pristine and white, barely brushed the floor. you, on the other hand, felt the weight of the world, and specifically, the weight of nayeonâs relentless ambition, settle squarely on your shoulders.
you sighed, a sound so familiar it barely registered as a conscious thought anymore. ânayeon, weâve been over this. itâs not a matter of ânow.â itâs a matter ofâŠâ you gestured vaguely at the silent studio, the empty sound booth, the calendar on your wall starkly devoid of any ânayeon albumâ entries. ââŠthe company.â
her eyes, usually sparkling with an almost childlike mischief, hardened. âthe company. always the company. you know, for a âproducer,â you really donât seem to produce much agency.â a subtle jab, perfectly placed. she knew your frustration as well as you did, perhaps even better.
since 2022, the members of twice had indeed been releasing solo projects or in sub-units. jihyoâs power vocals had soared, momo had danced her way into new territory, sana and dahyun had charmed, mina had soothed. even chaeyoung had teased a new sound, and jeongyeon had found her stride. and yes, nayeon had her solo. but it wasnât always the way they wanted. it wasnât a full album. it wasnât your sound, specifically, weaving through her entire narrative. not like she envisioned. and she envisioned a lot, mostly with you at the helm.
being a producer, you didnât have much to do either when the pipeline was dry. you didnât decide when the companyâs artists had comebacks; you only made music for them when the staff asked you to. you were a craftsman, not a master planner. but artists, especially those with nayeonâs particular brand of fiery passion, didnât always agree with these cold, corporate decisions, and they always, always took it out on you. you were the closest tangible representation of the music-making process, a convenient lightning rod for their frustrations.
ânayeon, i canât conjure a full album out of thin air,â you stated, trying to keep your voice level. you pushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, a nervous habit. âthereâs a schedule. there are budgets. there are other artists. you know how it works.â
âi know how it should work,â she corrected, pushing herself off the chair and taking a step towards your desk. her proximity was always a little⊠much. not just because of her star power, but because of her. and you. a history, perhaps unspoken, perhaps merely simmering beneath the surface, that made every interaction a tightrope walk. âand it should work with me getting a full album this year. from you. my team has pitched it. my concepts are ready. i have demo ideas.â
âand iâve heard them,â you countered, holding up a hand. âtheyâre fantastic. truly. but i donât get the green light. iâm waiting for the a&r team, for management, for the ceo, even, to say, âyes, nayeon gets an album, and producer y/n is on it.â until then, my hands are tied. you know this.â
she scoffed, a short, sharp sound that pricked at your already frayed nerves. âtied? or conveniently limp? are you telling me you, the acclaimed producer, the one who worked on all of our biggest hits, has no pull whatsoever? none at all?â her tone was dripping with disbelief, a theatrical performance that bordered on genuinely hurtful. âyouâre just a glorified button-pusher, then? you sit here, twiddling your thumbs, waiting for someone to give you permission to make music?â
the attack felt personal, a direct affront to your craft. âiâm a professional, nayeon. i respect the process, however frustrating it might be. my job is to create when iâm given the go-ahead, not to bulldoze corporate structures. your job is to perform, not to micromanage my workflow.â the words were out before you could reel them in, a rare flash of your own temper. you instantly regretted the last part.
her eyes narrowed, the last vestiges of playfulness completely gone. âmy job is to perform your music, y/n. the music we make. and when iâm not allowed to do that to my full potential, when iâm stuck with singles and mini-albums that donât quite capture everything i want to say, then yes, i will âmicromanageâ whatever i have to. because i know what we can create together. and itâs better than anything theyâve been giving us.â
she leaned over your desk, placing both hands flat on the polished wood. her gaze was intense, unwavering, making you feel pinned. it was a look that had launched a thousand fan theories and captivated millions, and now it was locked on you, accusatory and demanding. âyou know, i had to fight tooth and nail for you to work on my solo. they wanted someone else, someone âsafer.â i told them no. i insisted on you. because i believed in your sound, in our synergy.â her voice dropped slightly, a dangerous hum. âand now iâm asking for your help, and youâre giving me⊠bureaucracy.â
you bristled. âi appreciate you advocating for me, nayeon, i truly do. but that doesnât change the reality of the situation. my hands are still tied. i canât just walk into the ceoâs office and demand an album for you. thatâs your leverage, not mine.â you tried to push back against her perceived abuse of influence, though you knew it was a losing battle.
âmy leverage?â she scoffed, a humorless laugh. âmy âleverageâ is getting me sub-units, y/n. my âleverageâ is keeping me busy, but not creatively fulfilled. do you think i like doing these one-off projects, these small releases, when i have so much more to give? when we have so much more to give?â she straightened up, slowly circling your console, her every movement radiating a controlled fury. âdo you know how frustrating it is to have ideas, to have talent, and be held back by people who only see numbers and schedules?â
she stopped behind your chair, her presence a heavy weight at your back. you could almost feel the heat radiating off her. âi came to you because i trust you. because i believe in your work. i didnât come to you for excuses. if you canât make it happen, just say so. tell me youâre not capable. tell me you donât have the influence. tell me youâre just a technician, waiting for orders.â each word was a calculated jab, designed to wound, to provoke. it was mean, brutally so, hitting all your insecurities about your role in the industry.
you squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, trying to find your center. this wasnât fair. this wasnât right. youâd poured your heart and soul into every track youâd ever made for her, for twice. to be accused of being lazy or uninspired, of being a mere cog⊠it stung. deeply.
ânayeon,â you began, turning slightly in your chair to face her, your voice strained. âthatâs not fair. you know how much i put into this. you know how much i want to work with you, on anything. but i cannot force the companyâs hand. you have to understand that. iâve already sent feelers. i even tried to subtly pitch some of your demos to a&r as potential album tracks. they said no. not right now. too many other projects in the pipeline.â
she moved closer again, her voice dropping, losing some of its aggressive edge, but gaining a new, more unsettling layer of intensity. her eyes, usually so bright, now held a deep, unreadable fire. she reached out, her fingers brushing the bare skin of your forearm, sending a jolt through you. it was a feather-light touch, but it felt electric, possessive.
âtoo many other projects,â she murmured, her voice a low, throaty purr that sent shivers down your spine. âbut not our project. not my album. not your music.â
you swallowed hard, your gaze locked on hers. the argument, the professional boundaries, the frustration â it all seemed to melt away under the heat of her stare, replaced by something far more primal, far more complicated. this wasnât just about music anymore. this was about power, yes, but also about desire. her desire for your talent, specifically, and perhaps⊠something else.
her thumb traced a slow, deliberate path along your arm, sending goosebumps prickling your skin. her eyes, still blazing, flickered downwards to your lips, then back up to your eyes, a silent challenge. the air in the studio thickened, suddenly heavy with unspoken words, with years of shared glances and knowing smiles, of a connection that ran deeper than just artist and producer.
âso,â she whispered, her voice barely audible above the hum of your equipment, the sound a silken thread weaving itself around your racing heart. her grip on your arm tightened, just imperceptibly. âif âtoo many other projectsâ is the problem, and âcompany decisionsâ are the barrierâŠâ
she leaned in closer, invading your personal space entirely. you could smell her perfume, a sweet, sophisticated scent that always made your head swim. her lips were almost brushing your ear as she finished the thought, her breath warm against your skin.
âis there anything else i can do to make it possible for you to work on music for me?â
the question hung in the air, laden with a weight that had nothing to do with contracts or schedules. her voice, once mean and demanding, was now suggestive, almost dangerous in its softness. her power, once wielded as a bludgeon, was now a finely honed blade, cutting through all your defenses. it wasnât a professional inquiry. it was an invitation. a proposition. and the silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the frantic beat of your own heart.
you found yourself cataloguing options in a single, panicked second: use her leverage to push the ceo? leak a demo to a well-placed journalist who could manufacture demand? reallocate sessions by calling in favors, working nights until an album could be assembled in secret? these were the behind-the-scenes maneuvers youâd orchestrated before â logistical subterfuge, not ethical, but not unheard of. and yet the framing of her question made everything smell different. she wasnât asking for favors from you as a professional; she was asking you, the person, for something.
âwhat do you mean?â you managed, voice thin.
âi mean,â she said, pulling back fractionally so you could see the dangerous curve of her smile, âanything. iâm not above calling in every favor i have. iâm not aboveââ she glanced toward the control room window, toward the hallway that led to managementâs offices, then flicked her eyes back to you, ââmaking a very persuasive case. but i wanted to hear it from you first. what would you need? money? time? a producer credit thatâs⊠irrevocable?â she let the words hang, then, with a tilt of her head that made something unfurl in your chest, she added, âor something else.â
the last part was a half-breath, an insinuation soft as silk but sharp as a blade. your mouth dried. youâd learned to read people on instinct, to sense when leverage turned into exchange. was she offering favors in return for favors? was this a plea, a power play, a flirtatious provocation? all of the above, perhaps. nayeon had always been strategic â seductive, even, when she wanted something. there was a line you hadnât wanted to cross, and she was standing on it, toes curled over the boundary.
you could feel the old chemistry crackling between you: late-night sessions when the rest of the world fell away, a shared obsession over a chorus line, the way sheâd stand at the glass of the booth and mouth a lyric until you found the right melody. those were the moments that had forged trust and temptation alike. now, those same memories muddied the waters. a professional favor could so easily be framed as a personal one, and vice versa.
ânayeon,â you said slowly, measuring each syllable, âif you want me on a full album, we do it properly. we pitch again. we show them demos, we get numbers, we find a window in the calendar. if you want a producer credit thatâs irrevocable, thatâs on paper â legal agreements, not whispered promises. i can push, quietly, but i canât guarantee the company will change its mind overnight.â
her thumb stayed on your wrist, stroking slowly, deliberately â not affectionate, but charged. âyou keep saying your hands are tied,â she murmured, leaning in until her hair brushed your shoulder, âbut i donât mind loosening knots.â
your pulse jumped. ânayeonââ
âhm?â her voice was all silk and teeth. she tilted her head, lips inches from your ear. âtell me what i have to do to get you in the studio with me, just me. iâll do it. maybe i already am.â
she laughed softly, breath warm against your skin, then tugged playfully at the collar of your shirt, like she was testing how much she could get away with. âmaybe you donât need the companyâs green light. maybe you just need me to⊠persuade you.â her pause lingered, thick with implication. âiâm good at persuasion.â
her eyes flicked down to your mouth, then lingered, long enough to make the air between you unbearable. âso,â she whispered, a dangerous curve in her smile, âwhatâs it going to take, producer? a deal on paper⊠or something off the record?â
her touch didnât leave your arm. instead, her nails dragged the faintest line down to your wrist, deliberate enough to spark goosebumps, light enough that you werenât sure if you imagined it. âyou say you canât make magic happen without permission,â she said, voice syrup-smooth, âbut we both know thatâs not true. iâve seen what you can do when itâs just us. no deadlines. no approvals. just your music⊠and me.â
she moved past you again, slow, calculated, her perfume trailing like a hook. this time she leaned against the console, propping herself up on her palms so the edge of the desk pressed into her hips. she was close enough that the hem of her shirt nearly brushed your knuckles where they hovered over the faders.
âyou like to pretend itâs about the company,â she continued, her gaze locking on yours with surgical precision. âbut i think youâre scared. scared of what happens when itâs just the two of us, locked in a room until itâs finished. because you know what happens.â her smile widened â knowing, dangerous. âwe donât stop.â
your throat felt parched. you tried to hold her stare, but she leaned down, bending enough that her hair slipped forward, curtaining her face as she deliberately, almost lazily, let her voice drip right into your ear.
âyou donât need the ceoâs permission,â she whispered. âyou just need mine.â
she pulled back, slowly, so you could watch the satisfied smirk tug at her lips. her hands lifted from the desk, only to toy with the zipper of her jacket, sliding it down an inch, then another. not enough to be obscene â just enough to make you notice the deliberate pace of her fingers.
âlook at you,â she teased softly. âalready thinking too hard about this. about me.â her tone turned mocking in the most intoxicating way, half a laugh, half a moan. âproducer, do i really have to beg? because i will. iâll beg, if thatâs what gets you to give me what i want.â
her hand found your shoulder then, squeezing once before she bent close again, lips brushing your ear this time, intentional and intimate. âbut i think youâd rather hear me say please in a different way.â
her fingers didnât stop at your shoulder. they trailed upward, feather-light along your collar, before slipping to the back of your neck. the pressure was barely there, but it anchored you in place, like she knew you wouldnât dare move.
âfunny,â she murmured, her lips close enough that the words buzzed against your skin, âhow you can say no to everyone else⊠but never quite to me.â
she let the silence stretch, then tilted her head, studying you. one manicured nail traced absent circles on your nape, casual, almost lazy â except nothing about it felt casual. you knew she was measuring the way your breath hitched, the way your shoulders locked, the way your hands gripped the edge of the console too tightly.
âyou think the company controls me?â she asked suddenly, her voice velvet over steel. âsweetheart, the company doesnât even know how to control me. i get what i want.â her smile sharpened, her thumb brushing along the line of your jaw now. âand right now, i want you making my album.â
her hand slid down again, over your chest this time, a slow drag that ended with her palm flattening against your sternum. she leaned in until her nose almost touched yours, her breath warm, sweet, intoxicating. âbut maybe i should rephrase,â she whispered. âi donât just want an album. i want your attention. i want your time. i wantâŠâ her eyes flicked down, bold and deliberate, ââŠall of you, poured into me, until iâm overflowing.â
her laugh was soft, a dangerous purr. âisnât that what you do best? give me something no one else can?â
she pressed closer, the edge of the desk biting into your hip as her body crowded yours. her hand left your chest only to ghost down your arm, catching your wrist and guiding it toward the console fader. âpush it up,â she breathed. âgive me more. louder. bigger. the way i like it.â
the metaphor was obvious, obscene in its subtlety. and she knew it.
nayeon tilted her head, lips brushing the corner of your mouth without quite kissing you. âtell me no,â she dared, her voice low, dangerous. âgo on. say it. say you donât want this.â
but her grip on your wrist tightened just enough to make clear she already knew the answer.
you swallowed hard, the word no trembling on your tongue but refusing to leave. nayeon caught the hesitation, her smirk curving wider, sharper.
âthatâs what i thought,â she whispered.
her fingers left your wrist only to climb back up, catching your jaw with a firm, almost possessive grip. she tilted your head toward her, forcing your gaze to lock with hers. âyouâre so stubborn with everyone else. but me? i barely have to try.â
her thumb brushed over your lower lip, slow, testing, smearing the tension into something unbearable. âdo you know how much fun i could have with that mouth?â she asked, voice feather-light but loaded, every syllable a taunt.
before you could form an answer, she leaned in and kissed you â not gentle, not tentative, but with a sharp, hungry certainty that left no room for doubt. her other hand slid into your hair, tugging just enough to make your breath catch against her lips.
she pulled back after only a second, eyes hooded, lips still brushing yours like she couldnât decide whether to give in again. âsee?â she breathed, her voice hoarse with the rush of it. âyou think you came here to talk about music. but i know better.â
she stepped closer until your back met the edge of the desk, trapping you. one hand braced beside your hip, the other still cradling your jaw. âdonât worry, baby,â she added, her grin lazy and dangerous, âiâll make sure youâre very inspired.â
âi can picture this now⊠you, sitting at your desk, trying to compose your perfect little melodies while i bury my face in this pretty pussy.â
she leaned in close, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered. âiâll start slow, just a gentle teasing of your folds with my tongue. soft licks and kittenish kisses, making you squirm in your seat. youâll try to ignore it, to focus on your music, but it wonât be easy, will it?â
nayeonâs hand slid higher, cupping your mound possessively. âiâll slip my fingers inside you, stroking your silky walls as 8 suckle on your clit. i bet i can make you forget all about your assignments, can make you lose yourself in the feeling of my mouth on you.â
she nipped at your earlobe, her voice a sinful purr. âso what do you say, gorgeous? want to put my theory to the test? i promise i wonât stop until your pussy is dripping and your music is forgotten, until all you can do is ride my face and scream my name.â nayeonâs eyes flashed with hunger and desire, the image of you trying to focus on your work while she pleasured you beyond measure clearly exciting her. she wanted to consume you utterly, to make your world narrow down to nothing but her touch and your pleasure.
âiâll start by pushing your skirt up around your waist, exposing your luscious ass to the cool air of the room.â nayeon murmured, her hands already working to do just that. âthen iâll run my fingers along the hem of your panties, teasingly, maddeningly close to where you need my touch most.â
she leaned in to nip at your ear, her voice a low, seductive growl. âiâll hook my fingers into the delicate fabric and slowly, torturously peel your panties down your thighs, baring your glistening pussy to my avid gaze. iâll let you feel the heat of my breath on your slick folds, let you anticipate the first touch of my tongue on your needy flesh.â
nayeonâs hand slid around to grip your ass, kneading the firm globe as she ground her hips against yours. she could feel the damp patch on her own panties growing, her arousal building at the thought of tasting you while you tried to maintain your focus.
âimagine the scene, sweetheart. you, biting your lip as you stare at the sheet music, trying to make sense of the notes dancing before your eyes. and then, just as youâre about to tap your pencil against the next measure, youâll feel the first brush of my tongue against your clit. featherâlight touch, barely there, but enough to make you gasp and clench your thighs together.â
âthatâs when iâll start in earnest, angel. iâll seal my lips around your clit and suckle hard, flicking the sensitive bud with the tip of my tongue. iâll fuck you with my mouth, plunging my tongue deep into your dripping cunt as i drink down your sweetness.â
nayeonâs voice dropped to a husky whisper, her breath hot against your ear. âi wonât let up until iâve reduced you to a shaking, mewling mess. until your music is forgotten and all you can do is ride my tongue... â
nayeon watched your face intently for your reaction, seeing the blush spread across your cheeks and the way your eyes widened at her scandalous words. she could sense your hesitation, your internal debate about whether to give in to the sinful pleasures she was offering.
âshhh, donât think too hard about it, doll.â nayeon cooed softly, her fingers still stroking teasing circles on your inner thigh. âsometimes, the naughtiest things are the most delicious, donât you think?â
she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered. âjust imagine how incredible it would feel, trying to concentrate on your music while my tongue works magic on this sweet little pussy. youâll be biting back moans, squirming in your seat, your skin flushed and tinglingâŠâ
nayeon punctuated her words by trailing her fingers higher, brushing them against your clothed slit. she could feel the damp patch on your panties, the heat radiating from your core. it made her own arousal spike, her panties growing even tighter against her aching clit.
âmaybe youâll try to distract me at first, telling me to be quiet, that you need to focus.â she murmured, her voice a seductive purr. âbut i wonât listen... iâll just keep licking and suckling, determined to make you lose control. I'll slide two fingers inside this tight little cunt, stroking and curling until youâre dripping all over my handâŠâ
nayeonâs other hand slid up your body, cupping the swell of your breast. she could feel your nipple stiffen beneath the fabric of your shirt, a telltale sign of your growing excitement. She rolled the hardened peak between her fingers, pinching and tugging gently.
âyouâll try to clench your thighs together to stop me, but iâll just push them apart, forcing you to feel every flick and thrust of my tongue. iâll eat this pussy like it's my last meal, like i need to devour every drop of your essence to survive.â
she nuzzled into your neck, her breath coming faster now as she ground her hips against yours. the heat of her arousal was palpable, seeping into your skin and stoking your own desire.
âso what do you say, gorgeous? ready to give in and let me make you mine?â
â... yes, nayeon."
nayeonâs eyes flashed with triumphant hunger at your breathless plea. she could hardly believe you were actually agreeing to her scandalous proposition, but the needy tone of your voice left no room for doubt. with a low, approving growl, she captured your lips in a searing kiss, plundering your mouth with a fierce, desperate passion.
her hands flew to the hem of your shirt, yanking it up and over your head in one swift motion. she broke the kiss just long enough to divest you of the garment, leaving you bare from the waist up. nayeon took a moment to admire the sight of your breasts, soft and perfect in the dim light of the room. she leaned down to press openâmouthed kisses to the soft swells, her tongue laving over the sensitive skin.
as she lavished attention on your chest, nayeonâz deft fingers made quick work of your skirt, unbuttoning it and tugging it down your legs along with your panties. she tossed the garments carelessly aside, leaving you bare and exposed to her avid gaze. the sight of your glistening slit, already slick with arousal, made nayeonâs mouth water with anticipation.
she settled herself between your spread thighs, pushing them further apart to grant herself unrestricted access to your most intimate places. nayeon could feel the heat radiating from your core, could smell the intoxicating scent of your desire. it made her head spin with lust, her own panties growing damp with the evidence of her growing excitement.
without further hesitation, nayeon leaned in and dragged the flat of her tongue along your slit in a slow, savoring lick. she moaned at the taste of you, the sweet ambrosia exploding on her taste buds and making her crave more. she licked you again, and again, her tongue delving deeper each time until she could feel your slick walls clenching around the invading muscle.
as she ate your pussy with singleâminded focus, nayeon reached up to palm your breast, rolling and kneading the soft flesh. she pinched and plucked at your nipple, sending jolts of pleasureâpain straight to your core. her other hand slid down to join her tongue, two fingers pushing deep inside your dripping channel as she fucked you hard and fast with her hand and her mouth.
nayeon could feel your fingers tangling in her soft hair, hear the desperate sounds spilling from your lips as you lost yourself in the pleasure she was giving you. she could tell you were getting close, your thighs starting to tremble and your hips beginning to rock against her face of their own accord.
âthatâs it, baby. donât hold back.â nayeon encouraged, her voice muffled and raw with desire. âi want to feel you come apart, want to taste your release flooding my mouth. let go for me, gorgeous.â
she sealed her lips around your clit once more, suckling hard as she thrust her fingers deep and curled them against that spongey spot that made your toes curl and your back arch. nayeon could feel your slick walls starting to flutter and clench around the invading digits, knew your climax was building to a crescendo.
âgive it to me, angel.â she urged, her breath hot against your aching flesh. âcome all over my face, mark me as yours. i want to drink down every last drop of your pleasure.â
with a keening cry, you shattered, your essence gushing out to coat nayeonâs tongue and chin. she licked and lapped at your spasming slit, swallowing greedily as she worked you through the aftershocks, determined to wring every last pulse of ecstasy from your quivering body.
as your climax finally started to subside, nayeon gentled her touch, lapping softly at your sensitive folds to clean up every drop of your release. she placed tender kisses along your inner thighs, up your belly, between the valley of your breasts, before capturing your lips in a slow, sensual kiss.
she could taste her sweet cherry tasted lipstick and your slickness on your lips, the musky essence of your shared arousal making her head spin with satisfaction. nayeon had reduced you to a boneless, sated puddle, just as sheâd wanted. the perfect picture of a woman wellâpleasured, flushed and panting in the aftermath of the most intense orgasm of her young life.
breaking the kiss, nayeon propped herself up on her elbows to gaze down at you with a wicked, self-satisfied smirk. her eyes glittered with mischief and something darker, a primal hunger that made your belly flutter nervously.
âmmmh, you taste even better than i imagined.â nayeon purred, her voice a low, seductive rumble. âi knew youâd be a screaming, writhing goddess when you let go. and now that iâve had a taste, iâm utterly addicted. i donât think i can stop at just one climax, angel. not when i can feel your sexy body trembling with need, craving more of my touch.â
nayeonâs hand slid up your thigh, fingers tracing teasing patterns on your soft skin. she could feel the heat radiating from your core, the damp patch on the sheets beneath you a testament to your lingering arousal.
âi bet this pretty pussy is still hungry for more, isnât it? still aching to be filled and stretched and fucked until youâre a babbling, incoherent mess.â she leaned in close, her lips brushing the shell of your ear as she whispered. âi want to make you come again and again, until the only thing you can focus on is the feeling of my fingers buried deep inside this tight little cunt. until all you can do is ride my hand and scream my name like a prayer⊠maybe that will change your mind, wonât it?â
