synopsis: momo notices you getting closer to jihyo, mentioning her name too often and hanging out with her every second of the day. so, she decides that you need to relearn who you belong to.
author’s note: thanks for the req! i hope you like it :D the ending could be a little better but im a little tired soorry
“my shoulders hurt,” you whine as you slump in your chair. you close the textbook in front of you and turn your head to the side in hopes of stretching your neck — only to wince at the burning pain in your muscles.
jihyo quickly gets up from the chair next to you and puts your hands on your shoulders. she circles the hard knots in your neck with her thumbs, squeezing and kneading in a way that feels so, so good. you can’t even stop the moan that slips past your lips.
“does it hurt too much?” jihyo asks in worry at the noise, stopping the movements of her hands.
“no no,” you blurt, just a beat too fast. “keep going, please.”
jihyo resumes, and you could feel your body relaxing under her touch. you eyes flutter shut at the relief, your eyes growing heavy when a familiar voice calls your name.
“y/n, i’ve called you 3 times! why didn’t you—”
momo freezes at the sight in front of her, her eyes narrowing at how intimate it all looks. you look far too relaxed for her liking, and the way jihyo’s hands touch your bare shoulders causes a hot flash of anger to run through her.
“mm what? oh momo, hi,” you say, your voice a bit dreamy. momo swallows hard as she walks towards you and the korean girl, trying to calm her thoughts.
“i called you so many times,” momo pouts, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ears. she feels the need to touch you more affectionately than jihyo, to make it clear that you belong to her and not anyone else.
“her phone is dead,” jihyo answers cooly for you. she’s still massaging your aching muscles, much to momo’s distaste.
“huh,” is all momo says, her gaze on the korean girl less than friendly. it’s sharp and hostile, but jihyo doesn’t seem to notice.
“yeah, it’s dead because someone made me take so many photos of her at the cafe,” you say, a teasing smile on your face. jihyo throws her head back to laugh.
“you offered!” jihyo retaliates, hitting your shoulder blade lightly. momo just looks back and forth between you and jihyo, confusion etched on her face. she doesn’t like how close the two of you seem, how easy it is for you to forget her presence in the company of jihyo.
“you’re still coming over tonight, right?” momo asks when you stop laughing. there’s a quiet desperation in her voice, a quiet pleading for you to turn your attention on her.
“oh, i mean—”
“but—”
you and jihyo talk over each other. momo’s brows furrow further, her insides twisting in an uncomfortable way.
“i don’t think i can today,” you say gently, as if your softening your tone will make the blow a little less painful. “i promised jihyo that i’d help her with her project tonight.”
jihyo, jihyo, jihyo. momo hates hearing her name come out of your mouth, how every sentence you say seems to mention her. she hates the smug look that jihyo sends her way, as if she’s won something. technically, she has — she’s won all your attention, every minute of your time.
momo just nods, afraid that words would betray her. she can feel her nails digging into her palm, her heart beating unevenly as your words ring in her brain. the way you said her name repeats in her mind like a mantra, over and over again like a punishment.
“maybe some other time,” jihyo says to momo, her voice not even a bit apologetic. “y/n, i think it’s time we head out. we have to walk all through campus to get to my dorm.”
you nod automatically at her words, as if you’re a puppy. momo has to bite back a scoff at how easily you start packing your belongings, not even shooting another glance at her.
“bye!” you say cheerfully. you wave quickly to the japanese girl before running to catch up with jihyo.
momo swears she sees red in her vision.
—
for the next few days, all momo hears out of your mouth is jihyo. jihyo this, jihyo that, something funny jihyo said. it drives her crazy.
momo tries to look interested when you retell a fascinating story that happened to jihyo. she nods along as you ramble, words flowing out of your mouth except for the occasional giggles.
“y/n,” momo says a bit seriously as soon as you finish talking. you take a sip of your iced coffee.
“yeah?”
“do you want to go to a party with me tomorrow?”
your eyes light up. “what? i’d love to — that sounds so fun!” you say enthusiastically. your eagerness makes her smile. she leans back into her chair, feeling a sense of accomplishment… that lasts for exactly 10 seconds.
“should i invite jihyo?”
momo’s smile drops slowly, her expression turning into disbelief. she’s about to scream ‘no’ when an idea pops up in her brain.
“sure, why not,” momo says calmly. her shoulders immediately relax as she develops her plan.
“great! let me text her real quick.”
you barely notice the way momo continues to look at you, how the gears in her mind turn.
—
“momo… wow, you look great,” you say in awe. the older girl has on a body-tight dress, black in color with very thin straps. her shorter hair is curled in loose waves, the same way you said looks good on her. you’re able to make out her rock-hard abs from how tight the dress is, and it only helps accentuate the swell of her chest.
“thanks, darling. you too.” momo drinks in your outfit, her gaze lingering a bit too long at certain places. you look down at the ground to avoid her stare.
“hey guys.”
“jihyo!” you immediately squeal, smiling as the girl approaches you. momo suppresses the urge to roll her eyes. you’d be rolling them for an entirely different reason soon anyways.
—
“what do you want to drink?” jihyo asks you, talking a bit louder to be heard over the music.
this time, momo actually does roll her eyes. if jihyo knew you at all, she’d know you didn’t drink. you had the worst tolerance of anyone she knew, barely able to handle just 2 shots of a drink.
“uhhh, i don’t really drink,” you say. momo feels immensely smug at your response. a mere “oh” is all jihyo has to say before walking to get herself a drink — she was an avid alcohol lover after all..
this is the moment momo has been waiting for, for the two of you to be alone.
“y/n,” momo whispers into the shell of your ear. you feel goosebumps rise at how close she is, so close that you can feel her body heat radiating off of her. “let’s go somewhere a little less loud, hmm?”
she grabs onto your arm and drags you into what you think is an empty bedroom.
“momo, are we even allowed to be—”
momo shushes you by putting a hand over your mouth. your eyes widen to look at her, surprised at the dark look in her eyes. she slowly starts to walk you backwards until the back of your knees hit the bed. she pushes you hard onto the mattress, and a gasp escapes your lips.
she flips you over onto your stomach with surprising force, her fingers trying to find the zipper to your dress. she roughly pulls it all the way down, leaving you bare in just your bra and underwear.
“do you know,” momo drawls as she runs a hand down your back. “how fucking infuriating it was to hear you talk about jihyo all week?”
you’re barely able to form any thoughts — momo’s low tone coupled with the movement of her hand makes your brain go to mush.
“was it on purpose?” momo continues asking, her voice husky and velvet. she unhooks your bra, and you feel a light shudder wreck through your body. she turns you over again, smirking a little at the sight of your bare chest — your nipples are already rock-hard.
“so fucking pretty,” momo says. her hands roughly grabs your breasts, squeezing them so hard that the sensation borders both pain and pleasure. a whimper slips past you, one that only seems to spur the japanese girl on.
“seems like you’ve forgotten who you belong to, hmm? guess i’ll just have to mark you up real good.”
momo latches her lips onto your neck, sucking hard against the delicate skin. your head falls back, providing more access of your nape to the older girl. she marks you without mercy, only stopping when she’s finished putting two red spots on your neck, placed high so that it can’t be covered by any piece of clothing.
after looking at the hickeys she made with satisfaction, she moves her hands down your body, stopping just at the top of your lacy black underwear. she yanks them down quickly, chuckling a little when she sees just how wet you are — your arousal continues to drip, some of it even getting on the bed below you. momo murmurs something under her breath while you continue to lie there, your pussy desperately clenching around nothing.
then, without any sort of warming, she slams two digits into you, her fingers sliding in with ease. something that resembles a strangled cry comes out of you — she’s going too fast, too rough. each thrust is full of force, one that you didn’t think she was capable of.
“you know, baby, im almost starting to think you did this on purpose. if you wanted me to fuck you stupid, why didn’t you just ask me?” momo says smugly amidst your string of curses and moans. you’re barely able to open your eyes, the pleasure dragging your eyelids down. your hands fist the sheets, trying to keep your body still against the strength that momo’s pushing inside of you.
“momo— f-fuck,” you gasp out when she fucks you even harder, so hard to the point you’re afraid you’ll walk with a limp tomorrow or not be able to walk at all. you can’t even control your moans anymore — they spill out of you raw and broken.
“you fucking asked for it, slut.”
the room is filled with the sound of your moaning and sex, the squelching sound as her fingers appear and disappear inside you.
suddenly, you hear a faint voice calling your name.
“y/n?”
it’s jihyo, her voice a little slurred at the edges. her voice makes you freeze, your entire body tense as you pray the door was locked in advance. your eyes widen when momo connects the dots as to who’s outside the door and thrusts even harder into you. you bite down into your lip hard to prevent any sound from escaping your lips, your hips arching erotically into the bed.
“y/nn? where are you?” jihyo calls again outside the door, completely oblivious to what’s truly happening inside the door right next to her.
“that’s it, baby. you like that, don’t you — knowing jihyo could walk in any moment to find you getting fucked like a slut, hmm? don’t bite your lips, darling. let her hear how well you’re taking my fingers.”
her words only spur you on further, your pussy gushing around her hand. despite her words, you try to stay quiet, doing everything you can to not let even a single syllable out. but everything feels too good, especially the way her fingers drag their length in and out of you. her fingers hit your g-spot each time with perfect precision. her other hand has a vice grip on your thigh, keeping your legs nice and open for her.
“mmmh, i– m-momo,” your eyes flutter to the back of your head, your hips moving erratically. you can feel the tight sensation in your lower stomach, and the delicious way your entire body buzzes with pleasure.
momo chuckles. “good girl, keep saying my name. say who you belong to.”
your climax hits you like a trainwreck, all at once. you scream her name as you cum, all thoughts about jihyo and the party long forgotten.
momo bites her lip as she stares at your ruined state. you look so vulnerable with your breathing still uneven, your body still splayed out in the position she fucked you in. your legs are limp against her, and your eyes remain closed from the overload of pleasure.
𑣲 content. perverted nerd!momo, brat!reader, spanking, brat taming, possessive/obsessive behavior, voyeurism, degradation, sexual activity during phone call, teasing, alcohol consumption
𑣲 word count. 2,089
summary. momo isn’t boring—she’s waiting.
from jenn. i started this fic with one idea and somewhere along the way it took on a life of its own. i blinked and suddenly nerd!momo was… like this
You didn’t want to be here.
When the housing office told you the dorms were at capacity and they were sticking you in a unit with a senior honors student, you’d rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. And then you met her.
Momo.
She was exactly what you expected: glasses, a stack of books that never seemed to get smaller, and a silence so thick you could choke on it.
For the first two weeks, you tried to be nice. You tried to make small talk. She’d just look at you, give a tiny, polite nod, and go back to her laptop.
So, you stopped being nice.
If she wanted a ghost for a roommate, you were going to be the opposite.
You started coming home at 3 AM, the smell of cheap vodka and smoke clinging to your hair, stumbling over her neatly tucked-in shoes. You left your clothes in heaps on the floor—lace bras draped over her ergonomic chair, silk slips tossed carelessly near her textbooks.
You’d lounge on your bed in next to nothing, watching her work, waiting for her to snap, to yell, to tell you to put some clothes on. But she never did. She just sat there, her back to you, a quiet machine of productivity.
It was infuriating.
Tonight was the peak of it. You’d had five drinks before even leaving the pre-game, and you felt floaty, untouchable, and incredibly bratty. You stumbled into the dorm, kicking the door shut with a loud thud that should have made her flinch.
“You’re still awake? God, Momo, get a life,” you slurred, swaying as you walked toward her desk.
Momo didn’t look up. “The deadline is Monday, Y/N. Please be quiet.”
“Please be quiet,” you mimicked in a high pitched voice, leaning over the desk to get in her face. You wanted her to look at you. You wanted to see a crack in that perfect, disciplined exterior. “You’re so boring. All work and no—”
You went out of balance. The plastic cup slipped from your fingers.
Time slowed down.
You watched, frozen, as the dark liquid surged over the edge of the cup. It soaked into her hand-written research logs.
“Oops, sorry.” you whispered, the word feeling small and stupid in the quiet room. You waited for her to jump up, to grab a paper towel, to scream at you.
But Momo didn’t move. She just stared at the purple stain spreading across the work she’d spent three weeks perfecting. Her hands stayed resting on the keyboard.
“Y/N,” she said. It was your name, but it sounded different.
“Look, I’ll pay for the damage or whatever,” you said, but your voice betrayed you with a slight tremor. “It’s just paper.”
Momo turned to face you. She took off her glasses and set them on the edge of the table, away from the mess. Without the lenses, her eyes looked darker, sharper, and completely focused on you.
“Get against the door,” she said.
You blinked, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. “What? No. I’m going to bed—”
Momo stood up. In two steps, she was in your space. The nerd you’d been bullying for weeks was gone.
“I didn’t ask,” Momo murmured, her gaze dropping to your lips before locking back onto your eyes. “I told you. Against. The. Door.”
You didn’t move. You couldn’t. Your back was pressed so hard against the dorm room door that the handle was digging into your spine, but you barely felt it. All you could feel was the heat radiating off Momo as she loomed over you, her shadow swallowing you whole.
“I... I said I was sorry.” you whispered, your voice small, the bratty confidence you’d worn like armor all week finally crumbling.
“You’ve spent weeks acting like this room was your stage,” Momo murmured. She was so close now that you could feel the heat radiating off her body, pinning you against the door without her even having to touch you. “You thought if you were messy enough, loud enough, naked enough... I’d eventually lose my mind.”
She leaned in, her nose dragging slowly along the line of your jaw, inhaling deeply. “You were right. I did.”
You let out a shaky breath, your fingers clawing at the door. “Momo, I said I’d pay for the—”
“Quiet.”
Suddenly, her hand was there, gripping your hip with a strength that made you gasp, bruising the skin through your silk slip. With one firm tug, she hiked the fabric up to your waist, exposing you to the chilled air of the dorm.
“You like being looked at, don’t you?” Momo’s voice dropped to a shameful, raspy whisper. “Every time you accidentally left your lace bras on my chair, I didn’t just move them, Y/N. I kept them. I took them to bed with me. I breathed you in until I was sick with it.”
Your heart stopped.
“And now,” she continued, “You’ve destroyed my work. Which means you’ve finally earned my undivided attention. We’re going to start with a lesson in counting. If you miss a number, or if you make a sound that isn’t a number... we start the data set from the beginning. Am I clear?”
“Yes,” you whispered, your knees knocking together.
“Yes, who?”
“Yes... Momo.”
“Good girl.”
SMACK.
“One,” you choked out, your forehead thumping against the door.
“I can’t hear you, Y/N. Again.”
SMACK.
“Two!” you cried out, your body arching, only for Momo’s free hand to slam against your shoulder, pinning you back.
Momo’s hand came up, to slowly, firmly cup your jaw. Her thumb traced your lower lip, her touch surprisingly calloused.
“You’ve been begging for this for weeks, haven’t you, Y/N?” she murmured, her face leaning in until her lips were brushing against your ear. “Coming home in those little scraps of silk, hoping I’d finally snap and look at you.”
You tried to turn your head away, but her grip tightened—just a warning. “Answer me.”
“Yes,” you breathed, the word a confession.
You stood there shaking, your silk slip barely clinging to your waist, Momo’s bruising grip the only thing keeping you upright. She tilted your chin back up, her eyes—dark and focused in a way you'd never seen—dropped to your parted lips.
"Shirt off. Now."
Your fingers trembled as you reached up, tugging the silk over your head.
Momo's gaze raked down your bare torso, taking in the lace bras you’d worn to mock her, to provoke her. She reached out and plucked the straps, tugging them down your arms. “Off,” she ordered again, her voice firm. “All of it.”
You swallowed hard, but complied, unhooking the bra and letting it fall to the floor. You stood there, completely bare, your chest heaving with ragged breaths. Momo just looked at you, her expression unreadable. Then, her hand came up, cupping your breast possessively.
“These have been driving me insane,” Momo murmured, her thumb brushing over your nipple. It hardened instantly at her touch. She gave a small, satisfied hum. “On the bed. On your hands and knees.”
You stumbled toward your bed, the one she’d no doubt avoided looking at for weeks while you lounged there scantily clad. You positioned yourself as instructed, the mattress dipping under your weight.
“Arch your back,” Momo commanded, her footsteps soft against the floor. “I want your ass pointed at me like it’s been begging for three weeks.”
Your body obeyed before your brain could process the command, pushing your hips up, your spine curving until your ass was presented to her. The cold air of the dorm room kissed your bare skin, making you shiver.
“You’re so needy,” Momo observed, her voice dripping with a smugness that made your cheeks burn.
“Days in those tiny shorts, nights in that lace... You wanted me to snap, didn’t you?” She ran her hand along your spine, making you tremble. “Well, here I am.” She spanked your ass hard, the sound echoing in the room.
“And look at you, so eager to please now. Where’s that attitude?” She spanked you again, harder this time.
Momo raised her hand again, spanking you repeatedly, each slap echoing through the room. She admired your ass turning red under her palms, heard your sharp intakes of breath. She then spread your cheeks apart, seeing your tiny hole and wet pussy below.
Momo’s phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with ‘Professor’ in bold letters. She froze mid-spank, her hand hovering over your reddened ass. The timing was impeccable—or disastrous.
“Fuck,” she muttered, the single word laced with frustration. The vibration of the phone on the nightstand felt like a jackhammer in the silence of the room.
“Hello, Professor,” Momo said. Her voice shifted instantly—but her eyes? They were fixed on the view between your legs. While she listened to the Professor drone on about credit requirements, her hand reached out. She used two fingers to hook the edge of your damp pussy, pulling the sensitive skin open to inspect you like you were a fascinating new specimen.
“Yes, I’m currently looking over the… data analysis,” Momo murmured into the phone, her voice steady even as she leaned down to put her face inches from your heat.
She inhaled deeply, her nose brushing against your wetness. You let out a tiny, broken whimper, your hips jerking instinctively. Momo’s free hand immediately came down on the small of your back, pinning you flat against the mattress with a warning pressure.
“I apologize, Professor,” Momo said smoothly, her eyes darkening as she watched your entrance. “There’s some... background interference.”
To emphasize her point, she slid a single finger inside you—slow, deep, and agonizingly blunt. You bit the pillow to keep from screaming, your toes curling into the sheets.
“Yes, Professor,” Momo continued, her thumb finding your clit and pressing down with a firm, rhythmic friction that made your vision swim. “Consistency is key. If the subject doesn’t hold its form under pressure, the entire thesis fails.”
She began to work her finger in a slow, torturous circle while she discussed grade point averages. She was treating you like a piece of lab equipment.
You were a shaking, sobbing wreck, forced to be her silent, toy-like audience while she maintained her perfect reputation.
“I’ll have the final results on your desk by 8 AM,” Momo finished, her voice like ice. “Thank you, Professor. Goodnight.”
The second the call ended, she didn’t pull her hand away. She leaned down, her nose dragging slowly along the curve of your hip, inhaling so deeply it sounded like she was starving. Then, she reached over to her nightstand and pulled out a small, folded piece of black lace.
Your breath hitched. It was the thong you’d lost three days ago.
“You thought you dropped this behind, didn’t you?” Momo whispered, pressing the fabric against your cheek so you could smell your own scent. “I didn’t just find it. I kept it. I’ve spent the last three nights sleeping with this under my pillow, Y/N. I’ve sat at my desk, writing my methodology, while I inhaled the scent of you from this tiny scrap of silk.”
You tried to form a sentence, a protest, a “Momo, you’re crazy,” but all that came out was a pathetic, needy whimper. Your brain was complete soup, caught between the sting of the spanking and the absolute deviancy of her words.
“And those gym shorts you left on my ergonomic chair?” Momo continued, her fingers curling deep inside you, finding that one spot that made your toes curl. “I didn’t move them because they were in the way. I moved them so I could bury my face in them while I was on a Zoom call with the Dean.”
“M-Momo... stop... please…” you sobbed, your hips jerking uncontrollably against her hand.
“Stop?” Momo let out a low, dry chuckle that sent a chill down your spine. She leaned over you, her lips ghosting over your ear. “You’ve spent weeks trying to make me look at you, and now that I am, you want me to stop? I’m a pervert for you, Y/N. I’ve memorized the scent of every single bra you own. I know which ones you wear when you’re looking for attention.”
She increased the pace of her fingers. You couldn’t even whine anymore; you were just a vibrating, sobbing mess, completely undone by the fact that the nerd had been a predator in plain sight the entire time.
Summary: You have a doctors appointment that’s supposed to be a routine check up, but it doesn’t go according to plan.
TW: medical kink, gyno, power dynamics, slight teasing, degrading, possessiveness, impact play, spit, straps, ejaculating straps, collar and leash, bondage with a belt, breeding, gags out of an object you wouldn’t expect, implied squirting, uhm uhm uhm, knife play (kind of? For like a split second)
AN: I wrote a version of this a year ago for a lovely human who shan’t be named and since yall said not to be shy, here is some freaky business for you. Feedback is always appreciated and thank you for taking the time to read it! Mwah mwah mwah!
The rattling of the bus doors pulls you out of your dissociative state, reminding you that your stop was soon. The rain cascading down the windows provides a calming white noise aside from the murmurs of the strangers surrounding you.
One more stop and you’d have a block's walk to the doctor’s office, a new office that you’d never been to before. Though you were excited when you heard that there was going to be a location closer to your house, you hated the idea of going to a location out of your standard route.
The squeaking of the brakes signals you that your stop is approaching, gathering everything, making sure you don’t leave anything behind- you stand and make your way to the front.
The rain had lightened up, merely sprinkling lightly against your skin. The rhythmic tapping of droplets into the puddles on the roads was matching your footsteps towards the complex- pitter pattering as the view of the office becomes clearer.
The building was a little smaller than the previous one, a stand-alone structure with a black roof, lanterns hanging by the entrance, and a big white door with a stained glass window built into it.
Pulling the door open, gently closing it behind you, you’re met with a woman sitting at reception in black scrubs and a lovely smile.
“Welcome in! Do you have an appointment?” cheerfully rings out into the empty room, almost startling you with how loud it was.
“Yes…I transferred from the other office to this one, my name should already be on file.”
“Perfect! I’ll just grab your ID and get you checked in, it shouldn’t be too long. You’re our last appointment for the day.” Reaching for the card you were about to hand her, you see a flash of her name tag.
“Chaeyoung” quickly typed in your information and handed you back your ID. Turning around and sitting down in one of the modern chairs placed neatly in the first row of the waiting area.
The building outside might have been quaint, but the inside was sleek and stylish.
Black and white color scheme with hints of pink scattered throughout the room, accents of pink on the faux leather chairs lining the walls, a white table with a few magazines scattered on its granite top, small TV’s lowly rumbling about women’s health and faux plants in the corners.
Zoning out on whatever program was on, you barely heard the receptionist call your name.
“Ma’am, are you ready?” Holding the black wood door open for you to stroll through.
“It’s going to be the first door on the left!” Letting you navigate the hall while she locks the front door, hearing it latch as you find the room labeled “1A”.
Walking into the room, you note the pictures of the ocean hanging on the wall, the attempt at a relaxing vibe was sort of silly. It was a gynecology office, there was no relaxing here.
Placing your bag down on one of the chairs, laying the jacket you were wearing over one of the arms, and finding a seat at the end of the table, stirrups out and ready for you. The intimidating nature of them countering the “calm” feeling.
“I know..I tried to tell Dr. Hirai that it was…a choice… to have them up already…She was very adamant about it. She’ll be in soon.” Cut through the air, causing you to jump, almost out of your skin.
Arms holding yourself as you whip around, its just the small girl from reception… she must’ve caught up with you after locking the door.
A warm smile, a light giggle and a quick wave goodbye before she closes the door and you’re left to wait for the doctor to show up.
Happy that you brought your switch, being able to play animal crossing while you waited for the Doctor, who took longer than expected. Almost 45 minutes before there was a knock at the door.
At least you got most of the beetles you were looking for while waiting.
The door creaks open and the most stunning woman walks in. Long dark hair tied up in a bun, blunt bangs across her forehead, and cheekbones that would make anyone swoon.
She was wearing a fitted blue turtleneck, black dress slacks and some black strappy heels. The way the sweater hugs her frame makes you tense. Not even bothering to look up from the clipboard in front of her when she starts speaking to you.
“Good Evening, I’m Dr. Hirai Momo. Just here for a yearly visit?” Her voice rings in your ears like angels singing.
So stunned you barely even heard the words that came out of her mouth, you just sit and stare at her, mouth agape and palms sweating, lost in her features.
Finally prying her eyes from the clipboard, she looks directly into yours. Big, brown, kind eyes fall on you. The eye contact lasts for a moment before she looks you up and down.
*Did she just check me out?*
Silence between the two of you, she smiles at you politely and you return the gesture. She tilts her head at you slightly, seemingly confused by what you just did when you realize she’s waiting for you to answer her.
“Oh! Uhm…Yes.” not even sure what you were agreeing to.
Chuckling at your response, she checks a few things off her clipboard before she takes your vitals.
“I’m going to check your blood pressure and ask you a few questions before I have you change into one of these gowns.”
All you can do is nod your head, listening to her and watching her as she waltzes across the room to grab the sphygmomanometer and walks over to you.
Lifting your arms without hesitation, eyes still not leaving her while she fixes the device to your arm and pumps it full of air. Grabbing her stethoscope and listening for the sounds of your blood rushing through your veins.
Releasing the air before the sound of the Velcro echoes through the room, grabs a pulse oximeter and places it on your finger, and sits down in front of you.
“So you normally go to the other office?”
“Usually, this one’s a little closer to my flat so I figured it might be easier.” voice shaking out of nervousness, worried she might pick up on the way you’re staring at her.
The monitor on your finger beeps and she grabs your hand to read it. The softness of her skin on yours makes you wet, clenching your legs together subtly enough for her to not notice.
It does cause your heart rate to spike, and that doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Well your BPM is a little high…should we try it again?” Giggling at you with an air about her that says she knows exactly what set your heart off.
Bright red grace’s your cheeks, “no no, it’s fine”
“Alright, I’ll step out so you can change.” Leaving as quickly as she came.
—
Stripping and putting the gown on, you sit back up on the table, kicking your feet, and leaning forward with your hands on either side of you. Humming the animal crossing theme while you wait.
A soft knock at the door and a “Are you ready for me?” sends a shiver down your spine.
“Yes, come in!” shouted back through the door, maybe a little too loudly.
You shield your face in embarrassment at the unintentional excitement of seeing her again.
The door swings open and she steps through the threshold, now wearing something different. A black wife pleaser with the same slacks and shoes as before, lab coat in hand.
The tanktop hugs her body in an even better way than the turtle neck, exposing her arm muscles and her cleavage.
“See you tomorrow, Chae! Have a good night!” waving off the cute receptionist, fixated on the way her arms were holding her lab coat up.
Her collarbones were immaculate, leading into smooth and creamy skin of her chest that looked so soft. You were tempted to reach out and touch.
Dr. Hirai turns her attention back over to you, catching you staring another time. She smirks before tossing the lab coat to one of the chairs.
“I’m not going to wear that, it’s too hot in here. I know that’s not exactly professional so I hope you’ll forgive me.” playfully said to you while she walks over to the counter where all her instruments were.
“I promise not to tell.”
“...good at keeping secrets then?” grabbing a pair of gloves from the box on the counter before turning around to face you.
Leaning with her back against the counter, legs crossed and slips one glove on with ease.
“Is there anything I should know about before we get started?” snapping the other glove into place and pushing a tray with instruments on it closer to you before she takes a seat on a small gray stool with wheels and scooting over to you.
“I don’t think so.”
“Alright, well if you think of anything, let me know.” tapping your shin to signal you that she was ready for you to lift your legs up into the stirrups.
Doing exactly that immediately, you almost blush at how fast your response time was. Dr. Hirai smirks for an unknown reason before grabbing a bottle of lube and putting some on her latex covered fingers.
“This might be a little cold but I just want to make sure you’re prepared for what’s to come.” reassuring you.
“You can lay back now.” another ask you listen to immediately, trying to get comfortable enough to pretend like there wasn’t an incredibly hot woman between your legs about to shove her fingers inside you.
The cold gel-like substance is spread along your vulva and entrance with a small tease to your hole.
Feeling her run smooth circles around your sex, her fingers brush over your clit and you jolt at the sensation and you can feel yourself getting wet.
“Sensitive, are we?”
“Maybe just a little”
“Don’t worry, most people are. I’m going to slip a finger in now, is that okay?” halting her movements to make sure that you were comfortable.
“Yes, that’s fine.” agreeing to the act.
How are you going to act like you’re fine when she is so ethereal and she’s about to have her fingers inside of you?
How are you going to keep your mind from wandering about what her lips would feel like on you?
Red lipstick marks across your neck while she’s knuckle deep in you playing with your cervix.
Feeling her finger enter you, you clench and she freezes. Giving you a second to adjust.
“Are you okay?” another moment of reassurance.
“Yes, I’m fine.” swallowing to try and regulate your shaky voice and your breathing as she continues to push her finger into you.
Feeling the knuckles on her other finger touch you, she starts to smear the lube around inside of you. Feeling pressure on your g-spot, you furrow your brows. Was she…fingering you?
“I know, I know. It’s just to add a little bit of natural lubrication too. Is that okay?”
“Yes” catching the moan in your throat before it could escape.
“I’m going to add another finger.” this one she slips in without waiting for you to agree, causing you to almost whimper.
“You’re tense.” stoically said to you from between your legs.
“Sorry. I…uhm. I didn’t know that the doctor…I mean..you…would be so…pretty.”
Dr. Hirai lets out the sweetest giggle you’ve ever heard, like music to your ears as she continues to turn and twist her fingers inside of you. Spreading the lubricant around and coating everything she touches.
“That’s cute.” pushing against your g-spot again, this time you do let out a very slight sound that doesn’t go unnoticed.
“What was that?” taunting you, a tone you weren’t expecting her to take.
“Nothing! Nothing.” panicked in your response.
“Sounded like something.” there is now a soft rhythm to the way her fingers are moving.
Feeling the latex of her gloves against you and coated in your slick only makes you enjoy it more, thoroughly drenching her gloves in your essence.
“Alright, I’m going to use the speculum now. It might be uncomfortable but I’ll be as quick as possible.” reaffirming you and letting you know that comfort was her priority.
Dr. Hirai takes the metal device, adds lubricant to it, and slips it inside of you. Involuntarily thrusting your hips down on the cold metal, you hiss at the temperature change, enjoying the iced feeling of the metal being inserted but the good-looking doctor in front of you.
“Seems like we might not have needed that extra lubricant after all.” winking at you before slowly opening the device so she can see your cervix.
Watching her as she removes her hand, you can see a string of your slick attaching her glove to you. This makes you clench around the metal. That also doesn’t go unnoticed.
“You like this, don’t you? Have a thing for doctors?” more teasing and less work now.
She’s got her eyes on you, sliding her fingers together and playing with the slippery mess you left behind on the off-white material.
Dr. Hirai pulls her fingers apart and watches as the slick strings stretch and break between them, smirking while doing so.
“And if I say yes?” challenging her.
Her attention snapping to your face immediately, you get the pleasure of watching her eyes sharpen as she stares daggers into you.
“You know, based on the amount of lubricant you can create with a few small touches, I’d say you’re pretty healthy.” Her hands are now placed on the back of your thighs.
Lifting them up to your chest, the fluorescent lights beaming down on you offers her the view that she *really* wanted.
“I just want to get a good look at what’s inside. One moment please.” holding you in place, making sure you stay exactly where she wants you.
“Everything looks good…but something does seem to be missing…” calmly stated as she looks down and directly into you.
“Can you fix that?” not really caring at what was “missing” just needing her hands to be on you for as long as possible.
“Is that permission to do so?” one eyebrow cocked at you and that same devious smirk from before painted across her face.
“I consent to your terms, *Doctor*.” inflection on the title she had changed her demeanor rapidly.
You are still completely pried open by the device, Dr. Hirai hovers over your entrance and looks right into your eyes.
Keeping eye contact with you, she lets her spit drip right off her tongue and into your pussy.
Feeling the warmth of her saliva deep inside of you sends you reeling. A long, loud, whine following the few gasps made from feeling it trickle down your walls.
Thankfully the receptionist left before this.
“I think we are done with this” tapping on the device and letting the vibrations pleasure you very lightly while you clench around it, absolutely aching for some form of stimulation from her.
“It looks like your muscles are reacting the way they should but I’d like to see that for myself.” removing the device without letting it close all the way, making it sting a little when she takes it out of you.
Aching, you crave the feeling of fullness. Wanting her to be inside of you, you whine- borderline beg her without using your words.
“Don’t whine.” Stoically stated through gritted teeth.
“Stand up.”
Trying to keep your wits about you, you do as you’re told. Standing up next to the table, legs shaking, when she wheels over to you. Dr. Hirai pats her thigh, instructing you to straddle her.
Finding a comfortable place on her thigh, she grabs your forearms and throws them around her neck so you can have some form of leverage. Placing her hands on your waist, she grabs you harshly and pulls you forward. Gliding across her black slacks leaving a glossy trail of cream and wetness along her flexed thigh.
“Look at how wet you’re getting my pants, darling. I bet you can drench them.” guiding you to grind down on her harder than before.
“Be a good girl and make a mess on me, slut.”
Muffling your moans was hard enough but watching her slacks get soaked from you made it even worse. Whining and whimpering at every pass, rubbing your clit on the soft fabric was adding to your hunger for her.
Your hands still around her neck, one of her hands comes up to pinch your nipples through your gown, already hardened from the rough canvas of the gown rubbing up against them.
“You’re so excited for this, aren’t you?” Watching the way you struggle to compose yourself.
“You’ve been dreaming of this, huh? A doctor touching you like this during an exam? Did you ever think this would happen to you today?”
Shaking your head no, trying to focus on what she was saying instead of the pleasure she was giving you was one of the hardest things you’ve ever tried to do, and you were just trying to not seem too fucked out already but her words fade in and out with each grind against her leg.
“Stop.”
Freezing in place, she guides you to stand up.
“Lay down…now.”
Dr. Hirai watches as you quickly lay down on the table again, placing your heels in the stirrups once more and scooting down so your pussy is close to her.
A darkened laugh leaves her lips, the glare only adds to the pathetic demeanor and desire you held for the authority figure in front of you.
She spits on her latex covered fingers and toys with your clit lightly before slowly pushing her digits into you, feeling the stretch of her fingers was enough to send you spiraling.
Harshly pressing two fingers against your G-spot and watching as you clench around her gloved fingers and squirm underneath her.
“I think you can do a little better, baby. Don’t you?” lowering herself slowly to build anticipation of what was about to happen.
“Is this what you want? Hm?” a single sluggish lick up your clit makes both of you moan.
“You taste so good, angel.”
Moaning at the pet name, you grip her hair and push her down into you. Becoming impatient at the lack of her mouth on you.
“That’s not how you ask for that.”
Her hand flies down and smacks you directly on your clit.
“Count them out.” her tone transformed to something stern, cold, and threatening.
Another sharp swat.
“Two” breathed out, trying not to sound like you like it too much.
Another smack, harsher and more rage filled.
“Three” wincing at the growing sting between your legs.
The next slap was the hardest of them all, splattering your slick on her forearms and your thighs, radiating through your entire body - sparks catching fire to every nerve you have.
“*Fuck*- Four” Gasping and muffling a groan that was stuck in your throat, unwilling to admit how much this was pushing you into a subspace.
“Good girl…you are my good girl, aren’t you?” quizzically spoken to you in a tranquil manner that sent you spiraling, the sweet and aggressive combination was enough to drive you mad.
“J-Just want to be your good girl, Doctor.” Nodding your head aggressively and trying to keep your word steady, you’d let her do whatever she wanted to.
Dr. Hirai’s fingers are still inside of you, pumping in and out much faster than before. Unable to help yourself, you buck your hips with the tempo she’s keeping for you.
“I think maybe we should check your pulse again” keeping her fingers inside of you while she stands, reaching up to wrap your hands around your throat and pulling you up by your neck.
Face to face with you, merely centimeters apart, she just can’t contain herself. Roughly kissing you, forcing her tongue in your mouth and growling into you with primal need.
Dr. Hirai removes her hand from your neck, grabs the collar of the gown and forcefully tugs down, ripping it right down the middle all the way down. Splitting the fabric into two pieces and letting it fall down the sides of the table.
Writhing underneath her touch, you can’t contain the sounds your lungs have been trying to choke back this entire time.
The belligerence in her movements makes you want to spread your legs and let her bruise you from the inside. Your hands are grasping at her, desperately trying to pull her closer to you.
Removing her fingers out of your pussy, she takes her glove off slowly being sure to leave the slick covered side out and in your view.
Walking over to the side of you, she hoists her leg over your thighs and straddles you. Grabbing your neck again, pulling you up so your faces almost touch, she utters a single phrase:
“*Open.”*
Without hesitation, you open your mouth and stick out your tongue. Her hand tightening around your throat, she spits right into your mouth before shoving the cum covered latex into your mouth.
“Maybe this will keep my whore quiet while I use her anyway I want.”
Her hand cocks back only to swing forward and connect with your cheek, the slap makes your ears ring, eyes to water, and your pussy gush, absolutely drenching the leather of the table you were preoccupying.
“The slut likes to be used, doesn’t she?” another slap across the face, this one hard enough for your tears to fly off your cheeks.
Leaning forward to pepper small light pecks down your neck, she takes a moment to admire you before she bites down into your chest, leaving massive bruised bite marks in her wake across your tits and neck.
“We will make sure everyone who sees these marks knows who you belong to, won’t we?”
Letting go of your neck, she gripped you with such force that it left a handprint across the front of your throat. Allowing your airways to clear enough for you to catch your breath and your tears to clear, momentarily.
Dr. Hirai stands and walks over to a locked drawer on the far left of the cabinets meant for tools, medical instruments and sterile objects, unlocking the door and pulling a large strap out of one of the drawers closer to the bottom, along with something else you couldn’t really make out.
Eye widened by not only the length but the girth…was that supposed to go inside you?
“Let’s see how much my slut can really handle.” removing her shirt and tossing it at you so it lands right in between your legs.
While you're staring at the shirt just stripped from her when you hear a faint jingling sound coming from Dr. Hirai across the room. Looking over to find her removing her belt from her slacks before letting the black pants fall to her ankles and hit the floor with a splat, still soaked from your “dry” humping.
She steps out of the trousers and fixes the strap to her waist. Walking over to you while fixing her belt so that it creates two loops, folding it into itself. She motions for you to put your wrists together between the two of you before slipping them over your hands and locking you into submission.
“No fights for me? Are you that much of a slut that you just let any doctor tie you up? Or is this just for me?” Antagonistically grabbing your face, chin resting in her palm, squeezing the sides of your cheeks with aggression.
“I don’t think anyone will touch you but me after today. They’ll know you’re owned, isn’t that right?” Bringing a black collar with pink accents up to your throat and fastening it one notch tighter than it should be.
A matching black leash falls to your side after she closes the latch around the ring on the leather.
Unable to respond, the glove gagging you stopped most coherent phrases from leaving your mouth, not that you were having them.
Watching as she reaches into her bra, pulling out a condom and ripping it open with her teeth. Sliding the blue colored latex onto the strap, up and over the tip and down to the base.
Reaching around her back and unclipping her bra and letting her breast free, you reach out to try and touch them with your hands still bound. She slaps your hand away from her and scowls, picking up your leash and harshly tugging on it.
“Don’t! You don’t have permission for that, slut” the tone of her voice makes you clench around nothing, aching for something- anything from her.
“Tell me, whore. Who do you belong to?” lifting the head of the strap and letting the weight of it slap down on your already swollen clit.
She’s very aware you can’t answer because of the makeshift gag shoved down your throat, she’s intentionally taunting you.
“Look how my toy drips for me” grinding her strap up and admiring the sounds of the ridges sliding up against your slick, dragging the head painfully slow down your folds watching you squirm underneath her.
Lifting your hips up against her, you try to catch the strap with your entrance but her hand pushes you down against the table by your abdomen and tugs on your leash again.
Leaning into you, she pushed the strap against your swollen bud with more force before while maliciously whispering: “Desperate pathetic cum slut can’t even beg it, too busy gagged on my glove covered in her own cum, huh?”
Involuntarily rocking your hips forward from pure need, whimpering, you watch as she pulls the straps harness to the side and starts gathering her own slick on her fingers.
“The sounds you make are so fucking divine, angel. Even being gagged, my whore makes the prettiest sounds” taking the hand Dr. Hirai had between her legs, she pulled the latex out of your mouth only to replace it with her slick covered fingers, forcing them into the back of your throat causing you to gag.
Without warning, she slides her strap into you. Slightly stretching you out as it pushes against your entrance before she slid her fingers from your mouth, down to the collar and grips it hard.
“Please, please, please” begging her to slam into you harshly.
Dr. Hirai takes her gloved hand and swings it down, cruelly slapping your breast, matching the movement she made of slamming into you. Much like her previous slaps, escalating in aggression with each pass.
She grabs your bound hands, bending them at your elbows and pushing them down into your chest to hold you in place. Slithering her torso between your legs and fixing her own elbows on your arms, her hands wrap around your throat on top of your collar, leaving the leash to hang.
“Can you take this, whore? Can you handle my fucking strap?” beginning to jackhammer into you, bruising your cervix more and more with each thrust.
The way her hips rut give a tinge of pain mixed in with the euphoria, Dr. Hirai is grinding into you and holding you down, overpowering you and forcing you to take her deeper and deeper with every single thrust.
The feeling is too overstimulating for you to try and hold back, you’re struggling underneath her and trying to escape the sensations, practically screaming under her.
“Fucking hold still!” Dr. Hirai pulls out of you entirely, hitting every single sweet spot inside you and causing you to squirt all over her stomach and thighs, a surprise orgasm even you didn’t see coming.
“Did you just cum without permission?!” Anger in her eyes, brows furrowed as she snarls the phrase.
*Uh oh.*
Scoffing at your body’s act of defiance, she violently flips you over so you are face down on the table. Feeling her lift your hips, she holds your ass up by the waist.
Getting up on the table with you, scooting you forward so she has room to kneel behind you.
A thick *smack* rings out, one after another after another before you can even register that she’s smacking your ass. Trying to turn your head to see her, she palms the back of your head and slams you back down into the table.
“Don’t *fucking* move.” hand firmly pushing you down into the table, you groan at the feeling of the dripping strap between your legs grazing your clit so gently, it takes everything you have not to thrust your hips down on it.
Feeling the head of the strap touch your folds, her fingers press down on your clit and start circling at a steady pace before she dips the tip into you and pulls out again, pulling your leash taut while she does it.
Elastic snaps a few times behind you, turning you head slightly you see the blue condom on her fingers before she brings them back to your cunt, circling your clit again before slamming into you once more.
The gasp you let out from the borderline excruciating feeling of being stretched. The thickness of the strap slipping in and out of you was almost too much to bear, pain and pleasure mixing into a deliciously messy cocktail and dripping everywhere.
“No cumming until I say so, understand?” feeling the second one building up already, you know she’s planning on dragging it out and making you suffer.
The feeling of her rubbing your clit and the strap hitting your G-spot was enough to throw you overboard.
No thoughts only Dr. Hirai and the way she’s ruining you from the inside out.
Her teeth dig into your back, leaving more bruises along your spine when you feel her pick up her pace even more.
Labored efforts push it as deep as it would go, she’s huffing into your skin and making it hard for you to control yourself.
“Please, can I cum? Please let me fucking cum!” begging for permission you knew you weren’t going to get.
Dr. Hirai pulls out of you completely, removes her hands from you, and slaps your clit so hard you jump and yanks so hard on your leash that you gag.
“Cum around my strap then, whore!” bottoming out completely inside of you.
Seeing stars, almost blacking out, you gush around her strap - drenching her and everything around the both of you.
The rapturous orgasm takes every bit of energy you have, turning heat into relaxation and horny-ness into a sleepy aftermath.
The only thing is, Dr. Hirai didn’t stop. Continuously thrusting into you at a deadly pace, overstimulating every part of your body to the point of pain.
“Wait…wai-”
“Shut the fuck up and sit still like a good whore. You aren’t finished until you’re bred full, do you fucking understand me, bitch?” holding you down with all her strength and slapping your ass as hard as she can for pushing back.
Unable to help yourself, you writhe underneath her. Dr. Hirai has had enough of your brattiness it would seem so she leans back and grabs something off the tray.
Laying all her weight on top of you, you feel something cold across your neck.
“I said, Dont. Fucking. Move.”
Pumping into you furiously with something at your throat, you try to hold as still as possible while she uses you like a toy. Hearing her panting behind you, you can tell she’s close.
“Need. To. F-Fill. My favorite. *Fu-uck-ing.* Toy. Need to. Breed. What’s. ***Mine.***” ****the breathy voice and her strokes in and out of you make you clench around her strap, making it hard for her to thrust.
One of her hands leaves you for a moment and when it’s placed back where it was, there’s a chill of bulbous plastic between her palm and your skin. Pushing it down as she thrusts into you…you now realize what’s happening.
That’s when you feel it, the warmth hitting your cervix and filling you as she came, squeezing the pump to fill you. Feeling it drip out of you was comparable to heaven, it has you gasping and cumming around her for the third time on this “normal” doctor's visit.
Both of you just trying to catch your breath, you hear metal clattering on the floor. Looking over to find a scalpel spinning from the inertia of being dropped from the lifted table.
“Did you hold a fucking scalpel to my throat?” glaring back at her, wide eyed and suddenly wet again.
“Maybe I did, but you loved it didn’t you, Mrs. Hirai?”
Completely gobsmacked at what your wife had just done, not thinking she’d ever go through with the one kink she’d always been so apprehensive about. All you can do is smile at her, knowing that she wanted to please you in any way she could.
“And an ejaculating strap too? Trying to satiate that breeding kink of yours or what?” Giggled out at she lays those feather light pecks on your collar bone.
“Maybe…or maybe I just wanted to claim you even more, hm?” Resting her head on your chest and lightly pushing her hips forward to press against your cervix again.
“So what do you want for dinner, baby?” She asks as you play with some of the locks of hair that loosened from her bun.
Suddenly she stand and starts pulling out of you, watching the cum leak out and humming with pride at the mess she’s made.
“Hot pot?” suggested through your clenched teeth, the emptiness you feel is louder than any other urge your body has.
The feeling of Momo pulling her strap out of you made you want to go another round and fight the hunger and sleep that was rearing its head.
“Sounds good, baby. Let me just…clean up a little. I didn’t expect you to make such a mess on this new strap.”
“How can I not when my beautiful wife is the one who’s wearing it?” winking at her seductively.
Momo giggles at you, rolling her eyes before kissing your forehead and going to get some sanitizer to clean up the mixture of fluids that you’d left all over the ground, the table, and most surfaces.
When she returns, she sets it all down and reaches out for you, pulling you into a hug and just holds you for a moment.
“Thank you for always being such a good girl for me, baby.” laying sweet pecks all over your cheeks and jaw.
“You did so good for me.” kissing you on the lips and beaming at you, strap still attached to her.
Meanwhile, your legs are jelly and your eyes are heavy. Your stomach growls at her loudly.
“And…when we get home from dinner I’ll make you a bath, just how you like.” Quickly starting to mop and disinfect the floor to rush, knowing you’re hungry after all she just put you through.
“And if you’re good at dinner…I’ll ruin you again when we get home.” Winking and continuing to clean up.
Slipping your clothes back on, you can help but admire your beautiful wife as she washes your cum off the floor.
Giggling at that thought, you walk up to her and lean into her. Momo smiles, pausing what she’s doing, and rests her head on yours before kissing it lightly.
“Maybe not ruin” the soreness is starting to creep in.
“Oop” Momo holds in a laugh, knowing she did well was something she always wanted.
“I’m a little sore…maybe just…” wedging yourself between her and the table she just devoured you on.
Grabbing her hands and tugging her close, you can feel her smile as your lips connect again gently.
“…something a little softer, hm?” Another light peck and a smile from her.
“Whatever you want, my love.” Momo tilts your head up with her fingers and kisses you one last time before continuing on her cleaning spree.
It didn’t take long for her to be finished and dressed again. This time in sweat pants she must’ve brought over to work with her this morning.
“Nice pants.” Winking at her and grabbing her hand as you walk through the building to the front door.
“Thanks. I had on some slacks earlier but someone made a mess on them.” Looking over at you and nudging you with her elbow.
Giggling as you get to the car, you can’t help but swoon at her.
fuck i cant stop thinking about the onitsuka campaign.. someone had to do it
shes the embodiment of “dom in the streets, sub in the sheets”
momo is constantly in crop tops. those 11-line abs are always on display
she loves exercising in front of you
she loves it when you use her stomach. momo’s favorite thing is when you trace the deep lines of her abs with your tongue while she’s fully erect
she loves it when you use her stomach as a surface. whether it's dripping honey, chocolate, or just your own slick onto her abs, she finds it incredibly hot to watch you eat off her
when you’re riding her or taking charge, she’ll wrap those arms around your waist to pull you closer
her stamina is terrifying
you might finish one round and be exhausted, but momo’s cock will be semi-hard again within minutes
she’ll whimper and beg for “one more” with those big, hungry eyes
she’ll watch with wide, hooded eyes as you flick it or push it down just to watch it spring back up against her abs
standing tall against her stomach, she’s a solid 7-8 inches
the tip of her member is her absolute undoing. just a light swirl of your tongue or a sharp blow of cool air makes her entire body jerk
you’ll use your fingers to measure the length, starting from the base of her tensed stomach. you’ll count out loud: “one... two... nearly three hand-spans today, momoring. you’re being such a good girl.”
momo is a heavy producer. it’s creamy, white, and has a slightly salty scent
because she leaks so much, her cock always looks glazed. it looks like a treat specifically prepared for you to eat
she wants you to tell her exactly what to do with her body
she’ll stay in whatever difficult position you put her in
just you looking at it or brushing your thumb over the head of it makes her whine
she loves it when you overstimulate her, using her own stamina against her until she’s a crying, blushing mess
she’ll literally take your hands and place them on her hips, guiding you to take what you want
she loves the feeling of your weight on top of her
“look at it, momo,” you whispered, leaning down until your breath hitched against the sensitive skin of her length. “it’s practically jumping out of your skin. you want me to touch it that badly?”
“please,” she whimpered, she tried to tilt her hips closer to your mouth. “it’s so heavy... it hurts. please, just... use your mouth. i want to feel you swallow all of it”
It's been two weeks since that night, and you've perfected the art of avoidance. You arrive exactly on time, never early. You keep your eyes down when Momo walks through a room. You busy yourself with the twins, with cleaning up their toys, with anything that keeps you from being alone with her for more than thirty seconds.
The money sits in your wallet, still crisp and untouched. You can't bring yourself to spend it.
Tonight should be like any other night in this new routine you've established. Mr. Hirai left an hour ago—some business dinner that you know is probably a poker game—and Momo had retreated to her home office after a clipped "They've already eaten" and nothing more. The twins are bathed and in bed, their soft snores filling the baby monitor on your hip.
You're packing your bag when you hear the doorbell.
"I'll get it!" you call out automatically, grateful for any distraction.
Mina stands on the doorstep in a crop top and high-waisted jeans, her smile bright even in the dim porch light. "Hey! Ready?"
"Oh shit, I forgot—" You had made plans earlier this week. Coffee, maybe a movie. Something normal. Something that didn't involve complicated feelings and guilt that sits heavy in your chest.
"It's okay if you need to reschedule," Mina says, but she's already stepping inside, looking around the grand foyer with obvious appreciation. "Wow, this place is gorgeous. This is where you work?"
"Yeah, I—" You glance toward the hallway where Momo's office is, lowering your voice. "I just need to check if it's okay to leave now."
But Mina's already wandering into the living room, touching the expensive art on the walls, settling onto the very couch where—
You shake the thought away.
"So this is the life, huh?" Mina grins at you. "Rich family, cute kids, probably pays amazing. You're living the dream."
"It's just a job," you say, but you can't help smiling a little at her energy. With Mina, everything feels lighter. Easier. There's no weight, no history, no—
"Just a job that comes with a house like this? Girl, please." She flops dramatically onto the couch, patting the seat next to her. "Come here. Tell me about your week. I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."
You sit, maintaining a careful distance, but Mina's never been one for personal space. She loops her arm through yours, her head tilting onto your shoulder as she scrolls through her phone to show you some meme. Her thumb brushes your wrist and you don't pull away because it's innocent, it's friendly, it's—
"How nice."
You jolt at Momo's voice. She's standing in the doorway to the living room, arms crossed, her expression perfectly neutral in that way that means she's absolutely furious.
"Oh! Mrs. Hirai!" Mina jumps up, all politeness. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. I'm Mina, Y/N's friend. We had plans and I came a bit early—"
"Miss Hirai," Momo corrects coolly. "And it's quite alright. Y/N was just leaving, I assume?"
There's something dangerous in her tone. You stand quickly, grabbing your bag. "Yeah, we were just—"
"It's so nice to meet you!" Mina continues, oblivious. "Y/N talks about this job all the time. You have such a beautiful home. And your kids are adorable—I saw their pictures in the hallway."
"How kind." Momo's smile doesn't reach her eyes. She's looking at where Mina's hand rests casually on your arm. "Y/N is wonderful with them. Very... dedicated."
The word lands like a stone.
"She's the best," Mina agrees, squeezing your arm affectionately. "Always so responsible and caring. You're lucky to have her."
"Yes." Momo's gaze finally shifts to you, and the intensity makes your breath catch. "Very lucky. I'd hate to lose her."
"We should go," you say quickly, moving toward the door. "I'll see you Thursday, Miss Hirai."
"Of course." But she's following you to the entrance, Mina chattering happily ahead. "Actually, Y/N, could I speak with you for just a moment? About Thursday's schedule?"
Your stomach drops. "I—"
"It'll only take a minute," Momo insists, already opening the door for Mina. "You don't mind waiting in the car, do you...?"
"Mina," your friend supplies cheerfully. "And no problem! Take your time." She leans in to kiss your cheek—a casual goodbye she's done a hundred times—and you see Momo's jaw tighten.
The door clicks shut.
The silence that follows is suffocating.
"So," Momo says, her voice dangerously soft. "Mina."
"She's just a friend—"
"A friend." Momo laughs, but there's no humor in it. "A friend who touches you. Who kisses you. Who makes you smile."
"Momo—"
"Don't." She holds up a hand, and you notice it's trembling slightly. "You've been avoiding me for two weeks. Two weeks of barely looking at me, of leaving the second I come home, of acting like that night never happened. And now you bring her here?"
"I didn't bring her here, she just showed up—"
"Into my home. Sitting on my couch. Touching you." Her voice rises with each word. "Do you have any idea what that was like? Watching you laugh with her? Watching you be comfortable with her when you can't even stand to be in the same room as me?"
"That's not fair," you snap back, your own anger rising. "You're married, Momo. You have a husband—"
"A husband?" She laughs bitterly. "That man is not a husband. He's a stranger who lives in my house and takes my money and—" She stops herself, breathing hard.
"And youre pregnant!" The words burst out of you before you can stop them. "That night, you were pregnant, and we— I didn't know what to do with that. I couldn't just call you and pretend like everything was fine when you have a whole life that I'm not part of, that I shouldn't be part of—"
"Pregnant." Momo's voice goes very quiet, very cold. "You think I'm still pregnant?"
Something in her tone makes you freeze. "I— That night, I thought—"
"You thought." She steps closer, and in the dim entryway light, you can see her eyes are glassy. "You thought I was still pregnant and you've been avoiding me because of it. Because you felt guilty. Because it was wrong."
"Wasn't it?" you whisper.
“I'm not pregnant anymore, Y/N." Each word is clipped, precise. "Would you like to know why?"
Your heart is pounding. "Momo—"
"He made me get rid of it." Her voice cracks on the last word, but her expression stays hard. "The day after that night with you, actually. I told him at breakfast. Do you know what he said?"
You can't speak. Can barely breathe.
"He said he's done being a father. He has two children sleeping upstairs right now who barely remember what he looks like, and he's done." A tear slides down her cheek but she doesn't wipe it away. "He said we couldn't afford it. Couldn't afford another child. Then he went out that same night and lost eight thousand dollars at poker."
"Momo, I'm so sorry—"
"He drove me to the clinic himself. Wanted to make sure I went through with it. Waited in the car." Her hands are shaking now, curled into fists at her sides. "Didn't even come inside. Just sat in the parking lot on his phone. Probably texting whatever woman he's seeing this week."
"And you—" Her voice breaks into something raw, something furious. "You've been avoiding me. Punishing me. Like I did something wrong. Like that night was a mistake you needed to distance yourself from. And then you bring her here."
"I wasn't— I didn't mean—"
"Do you have feelings for her?" Momo demands, stepping into your space. "Is that what this is? You're done with me now? Moving on to someone easier? Someone without all this mess?"
"No! Momo, she's just a friend—"
"Then why?" Her voice rises, tears streaming freely now. "Why can't you look at me? Why have you been treating me like I'm poison? I needed you and you disappeared!"
"Because I'm terrified!" you shout back, and the confession echoes in the quiet house. "I'm terrified of how much I want you, okay? Of how wrong this is and how I can't stop thinking about you anyway. You're married, you have kids, you're my employer, and I—" Your voice drops to a whisper. "That night broke something in me and I don't know how to fix it."
Momo stares at you, chest heaving, tears on her cheeks. Then she moves.
She crosses the distance between you in two steps and crashes her mouth against yours. It's not the controlled, seductive kiss from that first night. This is desperate, angry, her teeth catching your lip hard enough to sting. You gasp and she takes advantage, her tongue sliding against yours as she backs you against the wall.
"You don't get to do this," she breathes against your mouth between kisses. "You don't get to make me feel this and then leave. You don't get to avoid me."
"Momo—" But your hands are already in her hair, pulling her closer even as your mind screams that this is wrong, that Mina is waiting outside, that this will only make everything more complicated.
"Upstairs," she commands, pulling back just enough to look at you. Her makeup is smudged, her eyes red but blazing with something fierce. "Now."
"We can't—"
"Now, Y/N." She grabs your hand and pulls you toward the staircase. You stumble after her, your heart in your throat, every rational thought dissolving under the intensity of her grip.
She leads you past the twins' room—you can hear their soft breathing through the cracked door—and into the master bedroom at the end of the hall. You've never been in here before. It's enormous, decorated in soft grays and whites, with a massive bed that looks barely slept in.
Momo locks the door behind you.
"Your friend is waiting," she says, but she's already pulling her shirt over her head. "Text her. Tell her you're not coming."
"Momo—"
"Tell her." It's not a request.
With shaking hands, you pull out your phone. Momo watches as you type out a message—"Something came up, so sorry, rain check?"—and send it. The reply comes almost immediately: "No worries! Feel better."
The guilt sits heavy in your stomach.
"Good girl," Momo murmurs, taking your phone and tossing it onto the dresser. Then she's on you again, walking you backwards until your legs hit the bed. "Now. Let's talk about boundaries."
She pushes you down onto the mattress, crawling on top of you. Her hair falls around your face like a curtain, and this close you can see every tear track, every bit of pain in her expression.
"You want to keep boundaries?" she asks, her voice rough. "You want to keep me at arm's length while you smile at other girls?"
"That's not—"
"I don't share." Her hand slides up your thigh possessively. "I don't share what's mine. And you—" She leans down to bite your neck, hard enough to leave a mark. "You've been mine since that first night. Whether you want to admit it or not."
"You're married," you try weakly, but your body is already responding to her touch, arching into her.
"To a man who doesn't want me. Who doesn't see me. Who certainly doesn't touch me." She sits up, straddling your hips, and reaches for the shirt she'd discarded. "But you do. Don't you, baby? You see me."
Before you can answer, she's grabbed your wrists and pulled them above your head. The silk of her shirt wraps around them, binding them together with quick, efficient movements. She ties them to the headboard slat, testing the knot.
"Too tight?" she asks, and despite everything, there's genuine concern in her voice.
You shake your head, unable to speak.
"Good." Her hands slide down your arms, over your chest, resting on your stomach. "Because I'm not going to be gentle tonight. I'm angry. I'm hurt. And I'm going to take it out on you."
"Momo—"
“Do you want me to stop?" Her eyes meet yours, and despite the fierceness there, you can see she's asking sincerely. "Say the word and I'll untie you. You can walk out. Go to your friend. Forget this ever happened."
Your chest is heaving, your whole body thrumming with want despite the guilt, despite everything. "Don't stop."
Something dark and satisfied crosses her expression. "That's my girl."
She strips you efficiently, roughly, your clothes ending up in a pile on the floor. The room is cool but you're burning up, exposed and vulnerable with your hands bound above you. Momo takes her time looking at you, her gaze possessive and hungry.
"Do you know what I thought about?" she asks conversationally, her fingers trailing down your stomach. "Every night for two weeks. I thought about how you tasted. How you sounded. How perfect you looked falling apart for me."
Her hand dips between your legs and you gasp. She's not gentle, her fingers immediately finding your clit, circling with just enough pressure to make you squirm.
"I thought about calling you," she continues, her voice low. "Begging you to come back. But I have pride. And you hurt that pride tonight. Bringing her here. Letting her touch you."
"I'm sorry—" you start, but she pushes two fingers inside you without warning and the apology turns into a moan.
"Sorry?" she repeats mockingly, her fingers moving with purpose. "You're sorry. But look how wet you are for me. Your body isn't sorry. Your body knows exactly who it belongs to."
She's right and you hate it, hate how easily she can reduce you to this—desperate and needy and completely at her mercy. Your hips rock against her hand, seeking more friction, and she laughs darkly.
"Greedy," she murmurs. "My greedy girl."
She withdraws her fingers suddenly and you whimper at the loss. But she's standing, walking to her nightstand, pulling open a drawer. When she turns back, she's holding a strap—sleek and dark and intimidating.
"I bought this after that night," she says, climbing back onto the bed. "Laid in this bed every night thinking about using it on you. Thinking about making you scream my name loud enough that the whole neighborhood knows who you belong to."
"The kids—" you start, worried.
"Are heavy sleepers. And we're far enough away." She positions herself between your legs, the tip of the silicone cock pressing against you. "But you're going to try to be quiet for me anyway, aren't you? Because you're a good girl for mommy."
She pushes in slowly and you bite your lip to keep from crying out. It's way bigger than her fingers, the stretch almost too much, but she doesn't stop until she's fully inside you.
"Breathe," she commands, and you realize you've been holding your breath. "That's it. Take all of it."
She starts moving, and it's not the slow, careful pace from before. She's rough, almost brutal, her hips snapping against yours with each thrust. Her hands grip your thighs hard enough to bruise, holding you in place.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" she grits out, her hair falling around her face, tears still streaking her cheeks. "To be punished. To pay for avoiding me."
"Momo—" Her name comes out strangled.
"Say it again." She adjusts the angle and hits that spot inside you that makes you see stars. "Say my name. Not hers. Mine."
"Momo," you gasp. "Mommy, please—"
"Please what?" Her hand wraps around your throat—not squeezing, just holding, just reminding you who's in control. "Please stop? Please more? Use your words."
"More," you beg, past caring about dignity or boundaries or anything except the pressure building inside you. "Please, more."
"That's better." But there are tears running down her face now, mixing with sweat, and her expression is twisted with something between pleasure and pain. "You're mine. Say it."
"I'm yours—"
"Not hers. Not anyone else's. Mine."
"Yours," you sob, your wrists straining against the silk binding them. "Only yours, Momo, please—"
She leans down and kisses you, and it's vicious—all teeth and desperation. You can taste her tears, feel her shaking above you. One of her hands finds your clit, rubbing in tight circles, and the combination is overwhelming.
"Come for me," she demands against your mouth. "Show me who you belong to."
Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, your whole body convulsing, and you barely manage to muffle your cry against her shoulder. She works you through it, relentless, until you're oversensitive and trying to squirm away.
"No," she says firmly, not stopping. "You don't get to run from this. From me. Not anymore."
"Momo, I can't—"
"You can." Her fingers press harder against your clit, her hips still moving—slamming. "Give me another one. Show me you're sorry for avoiding me. For bringing her into my home."
It's too much, her cock still moving inside you, her fingers on your clit, her weight pressing you into the mattress. But your body responds anyway, building toward another peak even as your mind goes blank with sensation.
"That's it," she encourages, but her voice is breaking. "That's my good girl. My perfect girl. Mine, mine, mine—"
She's crying openly now, the words spilling out between sobs, and you realize this isn't just about pleasure. This is about grief, about rage, about everything she's been holding inside since that clinic parking lot.
"Yours," you breathe, and you mean it. "I'm yours, Mommy. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry—"
She breaks then, collapsing against you as you come apart beneath her for the second time. The cock slips out and she buries her face in your neck, her whole body shaking with sobs.
"He took it from me," she chokes out. "He took my baby and I didn't even get to—I didn't get to decide—"
"I know," you whisper, wishing you could hold her but your hands are still bound. "I know, I'm so sorry."
She cries against your skin for what feels like hours. Eventually her breathing evens out, the sobs quieting to shaky inhales. She reaches up with trembling fingers to untie your wrists, and the moment you're free, you wrap your arms around her.
"I'm sorry," you say again, holding her close. "I should have been there. I shouldn't have avoided you."
"I was so angry," she whispers. "At him. At myself. At you for leaving when I needed you."
"I was scared," you admit. "Of how much I wanted this. Want you."
She pulls back just enough to look at you, her face blotchy and her makeup ruined. Somehow she's still beautiful. "And now?"
"Still scared," you say honestly. "But I'm here."
She kisses you again, softer this time. Gentle. Almost reverent. Her hands cup your face like you're something precious, something that might break.
"Stay," she breathes against your lips. "Not forever. Not tonight. Just... for a little while. Please."
You should say no. Should get dressed, go home, put distance between this moment and whatever comes next. But you nod instead, pulling her closer.
She shifts to lie beside you, pulling the duvet over both of your bodies. Her head rests on your chest, your fingers automatically moving to stroke her hair. In the quiet, you can hear the house settling, the distant sound of a car passing outside.
"What happens now?" you finally ask.
"I don't know," she admits. Her finger traces patterns on your stomach idly. "He'll be home in a few hours. Drunk, probably. You'll need to leave before then."
"And Thursday?"
"Thursday you'll come babysit like normal." She looks up at you. "And maybe... maybe we talk. Figure out what this is."
"What if we can't figure it out?" you ask quietly. "What if there's no good answer?"
"Then we'll figure out the bad answer." Her smile is sad. "Together."
You lie there in the semi-darkness, holding a woman who isn't yours, in a bed that belongs to someone else, in a house built on lies and broken promises. Everything about this is wrong. Complicated. Impossible.
But when she tilts her head up to kiss you again—soft and sweet and full of something that feels dangerously close to love—you kiss her back.
Because some mistakes are worth making.
Even if you have no idea how this story ends.
Eventually, reluctantly, you have to get dressed. Momo helps you, her touches lingering now instead of rough. She fingers the marks on your neck, your collarbone, with something like satisfaction.
"Sorry," she murmurs, but she doesn't sound sorry at all.
"I'm not," you say honestly, and her smile is genuine this time.
She walks you downstairs, both of you quiet, hyper-aware that this bubble is about to burst. At the door, she catches your wrist.
"Text me," she says. "Not about babysitting. Just... text me."
"Okay."
"And Y/N?" Her eyes are serious. "I meant what I said. You're mine. I don't share."
You should probably be concerned about the possessiveness, the intensity, the way she's looking at you like she wants to drag you back upstairs and never let you leave. Instead, you feel wanted. Seen. Chosen.
"I know," you say softly.
She kisses you one more time at the door—long and deep and full of promise and threat in equal measure. When you finally pull away and step out into the cool night air, your lips are swollen and your legs are unsteady.
Your phone has three texts from Mina:
*"Hope everything's okay!!"*
*"Let me know you got home safe"*
*"Call me tomorrow? Miss you "*
The guilt returns, sharp and immediate. You text back that you're fine, that you'll call her tomorrow, and you mean it. Mina deserves better than being caught in whatever this is between you and Momo.
But as you drive home, you can still feel Momo's hands on your skin, still hear her voice calling you hers, still taste her tears and her anger and her need.
Your phone buzzes with a new message.
*Momo: Thursday. 6 PM. We talk.*
And then, a moment later:
*Momo: I'm not letting you go this time.*
You stare at the messages for a long moment before typing back:
*You: I don't want you to.*
It's the truth. However complicated, however wrong, however impossible this is—you don't want to let go either.
You just hope you both survive whatever comes next.
(It’s been a few months since the pandemic started. The members and the girls try to continue and live a normal life. Many changes occur, some for the best and some mean that you’ll be busy soon enough. )
The global pandemic continues and many countries around the world struggle to contain the increasing number of infected. Countries like the United States saw an estimated number of 2 million cases and hundreds of deaths. There were some countries like Japan who had strict restrictions with social gathering which resulted in both low infection as well as deaths.
Korea tried to follow Japan’s example, implementing strict restrictions but it could only go so far. After having a week of low numbers the government loosen those restrictions, allowing people to gather in smaller numbers. Many used this opportunity to gain a sense of normalcy, going out to parks, restaurants, restaurants, movie theaters, even clubs.
Unfortunately, that resulted in a second wave of infections with many more cases due to the government’s decision. People complained about the government’s choice to lift restrictions just to try to stimulate the economy.
On the other end, you and the members remained isolated from the outside world. It’s seen months since you’ve stepped out of the compound. All of you tried your best to live a normal life, making sure the children are comfortable.
Jisoo, Ari and Hina continue to have the time of their lives as they attend the daycare. They wake up each morning excited, making sure to not forget their yellow hats and bright backpacks.
Ari and Jisoo hold Hina’s hand as they walk towards their school, taking off their shoes and putting on colorful sandals to their classroom.
Chaeyoung’s mother, who became their teacher, greets them in front of the door. “Good morning Jisoo, Ari and Hina.” The three bow and place their hats and backpacks at the entrance of the door before walking inside.
At the beginning you or one of the mothers would stay and watch them, walking around the room. Now, you leave them in confidence as they immediately ask if they can go and help water the plants and set the table to breakfast.
——
Sana puts on her robe after a relaxing bath and sits on the stool, taking out her blow dryer. It takes a few minutes to dry her hair, she takes out her lotions and applies it to her face.
“Now, it's time to put some on my belly, little one. Mommy loves you but she’s still an idol.”
She lathers up her hand and slowly spreads it against her belly. She’s about five months pregnant, Sana smiles as she gets every inch.
Suddenly, she feels a small kick, “Ahh.. you surprised me little one. You’re busy today.”
After finishing she gets in front of her tall mirror and snaps a few photos with her digital camera. “This one is cute. Let’s take a few more.”
Across the hallway Momo wakes up to a sudden kick, “Ouch, that hurt.” She turns to her side, trying to go back to sleep but feels another kick, “Again?” Her stomach rumbles, “Are you telling me you’re hungry?” She feels another kick, “Okay, okay. I get it, you're hungry.”
Momo gets up, fixes her hair, dragging her feet towards the hallway. She sees Sana walking towards the stairs, “Morning.”
“Morning.”
The two of them walk together down the stairs, seeing you and Da-eun having breakfast together. “Morning babe, morning Da-eun.”
Da-eun turns around and smiles at both Sana and Momo. “Eat, eat.”
Sana replies with a soft smile, “Thank you for inviting us Da-eun. What did daddy make for us today?”
”Pan- cake!”
——
After having breakfast, both Sana and Momo walk Da-eun to the children’s living room. They watch her play on the carpet as they talk about their pregnancies. They’re about five months pregnant and their bellies are visibly getting bigger.
“Today I woke up to the baby kicking, it scared me haha.”
“Momo, it’s not scary. It’s cute” says Sana as she rubs her belly.
“I like to see the reaction when I talk to the baby, can’t wait for it to be born.”
“You do? I still think it's scary. Like an alien inside me like those movies haha.”
Sana smacks Momo’s arm, “No! Don’t say that! It’s not even like that…”
Da-eun turns her head from the commotion and makes her way to the couch. She climbs in between Sana and Momo and places her hand on Sana’s belly.
Surprised, Sana asks, “Do you want to say hi to your baby sister or brother?” Da-eun nods and rubs Sana’s belly, which causes her to giggle. Da-eun then turns to Momo, “Momo- yah, I think Da-eun wants to rub yours too.”
Da-eun doesn’t wait for a response as she rubs Momo’s belly. She smiles when she feels a sudden kick, “Baby!”
Sana replies, “That’s right, that is your baby brother or sister?”
“Baby?”
“Yes, you’re going to be a big sister soon.”
Da-eun claps her hands in excitement, “Yay! Baby!”
The two of them laugh at Da-eun’s cuteness, “She’s so cute. Hope our babies turn out with her” says Sana.
“I agree. I want a calm and easygoing one. Right now, Jisoo and Ari are in their terrible twos… I can’t with them right now.”
“Aww… don’t be like that. They’re great.”
“Not even the two of them are arguing for the same thing. Jisoo is just like Jihyo, it's scary.”
Da-eun, confused at why the two of them are laughing just stares at them in silence. She watches in amusement as Momo’s chest bounces up and down. She makes her way towards her and grabs onto her shoulder strap, pulling it completely down, exposing her breast, “Boobies!”
“Kyaa!”
Sana laughs from Momo’s expression as her bare breasts are exposed. Momo tries to cover up but Da-eun smacks Momo's breasts.
They notice Da-eun puckering her lips, saying “Oo-Yoo.”
“Momo-ya, I think she wants to drink some milk.”
“Then why is she hitting my breast?”
Sana gives a smirk, “You know…”
Momo turns and see Da-eun continuing to pucker her lips together, “Ugh… I guess…”
Sana smiles and says, “Da-eun, Momo unnie said it’s okay to have a taste but just want to tell you that it might not have any milk yet.”
Da-eun only hears Sana say it’s okay and she launches herself towards Momo, causing her to laugh. “Ahh Da-eun, be careful.” Da-eun attaches herself to Momo’s nipple and begins to suckle. Momo laughs at the sensation and closes her eyes as she tries to keep calm.
Sana watches Da-eun suckle on Momo with all her might. She looks down at her chest, a noticeable difference from Momo. Da-eun releases Momo’s breast and looks at the other one, squeezing it but no milk. She turns her head towards Sana and points, “Boobies!”
With a gentle smile Sana responds, “Would you like to try mine Da-eun?” Da-eun slides off of Momo and makes her way towards Sana who exposes her breasts. Sana smiles and giggles when she feels the suckling. In her mind, she can’t help but see herself breastfeeding her own child. She whispers to herself, “Just a few more months little one and I’ll have you in my arms.”
Suddenly, she feels a sense of warmth over her and sees a stream of liquid running down her stomach. Da-eun detaches herself from Sana’s breast and is surprised to see herself lactating.
“Oh my god, is that milk, Sana?”
”Ye… yes. I think so.”
Sana squeezes her tit and watches as a tiny stream of liquid secretting from the tip of her nipple. She grabs the other and gives it a firm squeeze, making herself leak, “I’m… I’m actually lactating.” She smiles so proudly and offers her breast to Da-eun, “Want to try the other one?”
Da-eun nods and takes Sana’s breast into her mouth, falling asleep in Sana’s arms.
——-
Later that night, all of you sit at the dinner table. The children next to their mother’s as they enjoy their dinner.
You briefly share some news about some upcoming projects to which the members seem excited about. Some of the members share some of their thoughts or things they are doing like Jeongyeon and her interesting in baking and coffee making. Mina shares her progress with teaching the girls Japanese when they are off from school. Jihyo thanks Mina for taking the initiative on teaching them a second language and even took the opportunity to learn English with other members. “I think it’s the perfect time to learn and communicate better with our international Onces.”
“I’m learning English too Jihyo. Let’s get together” says Nayeon from across the room.”
The members continue to share until it gets to Sana, who can’t help but have a big smile. “Earlier Momo and I were with Da-eun and she became interesting in our chest. Momo and I offered her our breast and suddenly I began to lactate.”
The members look happy for Sana, knowing how much she’s been wanting to become a mother for so long. “I’m so happy for you Sana,” replies Jihyo.
“Thank you, Jihyo.”
“I was looking up some pregnancy books and it said that constant stimulation is necessary. So, I was thinking if Oppa can help Momo and I with that” says Sana with a naughty smile.
The members look at you with a smirk which causes you to shy away and cover your face.
synopsis. momo doesn’t care what happens, as long as she has jihyo.
⋆˚࿔ content. angst. miscommunications. unintentional leading on. situationships. slightly internalized homophobia. sneaking around. based off of "the cut that always bleeds" by conan gray.
notes. toxic wlw age gap yuri </3
slow tracing.
momo's woken slowly by the soft touch of the woman in her bed. freshly tanned skin, a warm look in her eyes. home. for a moment, at least. she breathes out slowly, giving a small blink up at her leader. jihyo looks down quietly, the pads of her fingers continuing their slow journey across momo's jaw line. it makes the older's breath just barely hitch, as she leans into the touch. the corner of jihyo's lips lift.
those damned lips. the ones that had charted across momo's skin just hours before, kissing and parting so that whispers of claiming could escape. pressing the older down onto her mattress as she shot euphoria throughout her body. now they laid in the afterglow of both their encounter and the rising sun. jihyo had woken up first, and stared down at momo as if she were a damned goddess.
momo breathes out slowly, as her thumb skids over the older's bottom lip. she whispers against her finger. "you stayed?"
and just like that, the environment switches. jihyo's brows furrow briefly before her face relaxes, and she forces a slow nod. her eyes fall from momo's to her lips and then away - as she pulls away. momo's arm tugs around her, desperately trying to tug her back into the moment, and sympathetically jihyo squeezes her arm, but reluctantly slips out of it.
"do you want to shower?" the younger speaks slowly, disregarding momo's words and soft noises of protest. the warmth leaves the bed along with her, and momo watches as she goes, popping into the bathroom. the sound of running water falls.
momo leans back against her bed, reaching her hand up and rubbing her forehead slowly. a decently sized sigh escapes. jihyo was always like this. ebbing away like the flow of water, making decisions that she ultimately ended up regretting. the only issue was - momo was one of those decisions.
she wasn't stupid, despite the beliefs of others, she knew jihyo was... the way that she was. but someone the Japanese just kept getting tugged back into the situation...ship. it had it's moments of relationship, where jihyo would bring her gifts and cuddle her in bed, meet her eyes during practice and send her that cute, shy little expression she always did. and then it had moments of situation, wherein at some points momo felt more like an after thought. like now.
"love," jihyo poked her head out, her face soft and bare. momo's heart surged, she answered with a gentle raise of her brows, and jihyo murmured. "waters hot. whenever you're ready."
and the older would drag herself out of bed, watching jihyo disappear back into the bathroom. she's briefly glance down at her bare form littered in soft hickeys and the indents of jihyo's teeth on her inner thighs. a part of her would swell with pride at the sight, but a majority would ache, knowing that in a few weeks? they'd be back to how they always were. awkward. distant. jihyo would make comments online about how out of all the members - momo was the one she felt so awkward with. but did she not press the olders body against a wall days prior? did her lips not whisper of love?
momo pushes into the bathroom, finding her silhouette shrouded in the steam of the shower. she swallows at the sight and glances in the mirror. the night last night was over too late, making her under eyes droop with tiredness. that always happened when she was with jihyo. stepping forward, she slipped into the shower, and couldn't help the way her arms automatically went around the shorter girl, dragging her body in close. her chin rest against her head, and for the briefest of moments, jihyo tensed.
momo almosted panicked. almost. but by now she was too used to it. to the push and pull of being with but also not being with jihyo. of knowing her body by heart, but not her mind.
"our schedule is packed today," after a while, jihyo relaxes, rubbing her lover's hand slowly. "will you stay the night?"
momo sighs into her hair. "I don't know, nayeon mentioned-"
"stay." jihyo cut her off, turning around. she looked up slightly into momo's eyes, her hand reaching to trace her jaw again. momo pressed into the touch, and jihyo's voice came softly. "I love when you do that, baby. you're so cute...won't you stay the night?"
momo felt compelled.
her head slowly nodded, hands tracing over jihyo's bare hips. she pressed their forms together, leaning and kissing the youngers neck slowly. and jihyo's breath hitched, as she pressed deeper into momo. warm water hit her back like gentle pellets, so momo shifted them to be turned away from the shower head. jihyo melts in her hold, and shifts momp's head to face her.
"you know I love you, right?"
she speaks softer. momo releases a slow breath. "I love you too."
they both knew only one of them actually meant it. momo wouldn't get any better anticipating jihyo's inevitable departure, feeling her slip the moment they moved in the shower to actually bathe. and in the coming days that followed; sleepovers would be less frequent as jihyo drifted off, construed in her own emotions and feelings and not quite placing any of them at the same standard as momo. and momo would cry, and cry. all she knew was crying sometimes.
crying, and holding onto nayeon, or sana, or anyone else who'd hear her sorrows. she couldn't articulate well, but she recognized the pain. relationships had never been good for her, anyway.
jihyo would become a lover, a friend, and then a coworker easily. and momo would remain the constant she always was. she knew her feelings and knew them well. knew that she loved jihyo. loved her touch. craved it, actively. craved her. but she also knew jihyo.
and as blunt as the woman could be?
she never understood her own feelings enough to tell momo how she truly felt, let alone herself.
and so the rhythm would pick back up, with sorrow and with doubt. and weeks could at any point turn into months or maybe even a years worth of time. something could change during a show, and the next moment momo would wake up in her lover's bed, feeling the gentle strokes of her fingers against her back. jihyo's lips - those damned things - would pepper her like a canvas, marking up her territory. momo would feel, again, as if the world finally valued her.
because her own world was back with her.
jihyo's body would remain empty of marks, but her words would carry on.
"I love you, momo."
"do you know how much I love you?"
"come over tonight, please."
"I miss you."
fights could result in the lasting situation fizzling to bones again - but in tandem, momo would wind back up at jihyo's apartment the next day. in her bed. in her life. but still? never quite in her heart. the one awkward member of twice that jihyo just couldn't remain consistent with. and even if momo knew it was bad for her, as nayeon had stated multiple times, she needed jihyo. part of her cherished jihyo as if she were her idol. hers.
she needed her there in her life for stability, for care. even if it meant losing herself.
Summary: There comes some point in every relationship when you realize you're going to marry the other person. This is that moment.
Izuku Midoriya
It wasn’t too often that you and Izuku actually got to go out on a date. You texted all the time, but your jobs made your lives so busy that you didn’t have much time for little adventures. Today, though, you had planned to go to the natural history museum.
You and Midoriya were walking around next to the T-Rex exhibit when you heard the scream of a little kid around the corner. Instinctively, both of your gazes whipped to see a little boy who seemed to have lost his grown-ups. Before Midoriya could even say anything, you knelt down in front of the little boy and spoke so gently. “Hey there,” you said, coaxing the little kid to try and calm down to talk to you. “Are you okay?”
The little boy rubbed one of his eyes and took a stuttering breath. “Want Mama,” was all he was able to get out.
“Come on,” you had said, extending a hand to the little boy. You took him to a security guard and stayed with him all the way until his parents came to find him.
When Midoriya asked you about it later, you only said, “Well I couldn’t just leave him! He was already so scared.”
And his heart warmed, thinking about the prospect that any child the two of you made together would be sensitive, too. And that you’d be prepared for all of it.
Ochaco Uraraka
The fact that you were doing this in the first place was asking a lot.
You knew that when Uraraka said she would teach you to fight. You had mentioned taking self-defense classes in passing, especially because she was a hero, so strong and cool and perfect. But that led to Ochaco begging you to just let her train you. And how could you say no to her ever?
That was how you ended up in a gym with her, your shoulders pinned to a mat four times in a row. Your muscles ached. You were sweating. You were sorely out of shape in a way you didn’t realize until that day. And she was trying to be so sweet and encouraging, but it was hard to stay motivated when your girlfriend was kicking your ass at any opportunity.
“That was better!” she said encouragingly. “Try that again, but this time, let the momentum carry your leg for the follow-through. It’ll help you keep your balance.”
You got up and did the drill again. And again. And again. And finally, you had her pinned by the shoulders to the mat, a look of pride and satisfaction in your eyes, even if you were drenched in sweat. Both of you were breathing heavily, but when she saw that look on you, she decided she wanted to see it every single day.
Shoto Todoroki
One thing about your relationship with Shoto, the two of you had a routine. You took turns in each other’s apartments, alternating where you spent the night. You took turns making dinner, although most of Shoto’s nights to cook involved takeout from somewhere because he was just so busy. Your lives were mapped out perfectly.
So it was really odd when Shoto came into your apartment and went straight to your bedroom without so much as a hello. You took it upon yourself to go check on him. You poked your head through your bedroom door. “Hey–” you gently called, cutting yourself off when you saw Shoto sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. You saw him tense a little at the sound of his voice.
“Sweetheart,” you called, stepping further into the room and crouching in front of him. You gently tugged his hands from his face so you could hold them. “What’s wrong?”
Shoto closed his eyes and sighed. “I… don’t know,” he said apprehensively. You could tell that he stopped himself from however he was going to answer. But you didn’t want to push any further. He would talk when he was ready, and not a moment before.
“D’you need a minute?” you asked, one of your hands resting on his knee. “Or do you wanna cuddle a little before dinner?”
Shoto’s eyes snapped to yours at the mention of cuddling. After a quick agreement and some shuffling around, he laid his head on your chest and let the steady sound of your heartbeat soothe whatever feeling had made a home in his chest. And he wondered how he had ever survived without you before.
Tsuyu Asui
You knew Tsu loved to swim. It was kind of a given, considering the fact that she was a frog. After a few dates, she invited you to come swimming with her, even if it was just for a little while. But you had a secret that you weren’t quite ready to give up.
You had put it off long enough, you decided on the third time she tried to ask you. So you met her at the freshwater beach that she’d invited you too. You tried to stay completely dressed, but with a little coaxing, you realized there was no getting out of it.
You sat on the shore in your swimsuit, just barely in the water, watching Tsu have fun. She kept coming up to check on you, over and over just to make sure you were still having fun. And of course you were having fun. You were with her.
When she came up to ask why you weren’t swimming, you rubbed the back of your neck and nervously replied, “I, uh… don’t really feel like it.”
Tsu tilted her head and looked up at you. After a beat of silence, she said, “You can’t swim,” rather than asking. Your silence and red cheeks told her all she needed to know. “You could’ve told me that, y’know.”
She couldn’t understand why you hadn’t said anything. But she realized how lovely you were for stepping out of your comfort zone just to make her happy. You got lots of kisses that night.
Momo Yaoyorozu
It had been so simple, really.
You and Momo had been out on a couple of dates. You liked her. Really liked her. And she liked you too, more than she thought she would. You talked about anything and everything, and you hung on every word she said, whether she realized it or not.
Finally, after four or five dates, you decided to just have a night in at your apartment. Almost automatically, you put on some hot water for tea, knowing that you didn’t even have to ask if Momo wanted a cup of tea.
Momo watched you work in the kitchen, waiting for the tea to brew properly. She wasn’t even paying much attention to what you were doing, only that you were boiling water for tea. She was talking to you about some of the hero work she had been doing, and your individual actions hadn’t even really crossed her mind.
But then she took a sip of the tea you placed in front of her, and she stopped.
It was perfect.
You were perfect.
Mirio Togata
Mirio went out of his way to make your first date perfect. You were none the wiser to his plans. To you, it seemed like any first date. Awkward and flirty and sweet, with just a little corniness, because Mirio doesn’t know how to do things any other way.
He’d been paying attention to things you liked. You liked books and sweets and bubble tea. You liked colors and soft music and rain. Mirio had you in mind with every plan, even though it seemed spontaneous. Coffee turned into lunch, then dinner, then ice cream. You just couldn’t separate. After getting something fun to drink, he led you on a walk through a park as the sun was setting.
Even with all of Mirio’s meticulous planning and his attempt at perfection, you still managed to surprise him. You saw a little playground off to the side of the path, and holding his hand, you tugged him toward the swings. “Come swing with me,” you said, a touch of childlike wonder in your voice.
I’m going to marry her, was the only thought occupying his mind.
