moontrls

[moontrls]

What movie?

kyung x yeri

[smut]

cw: thigh riding, marking, squirting, use of petnames, aftercare

wc: 2000

The movie’s still playing, some random rom-com they’d thrown on for background noise, but neither of them’s really registered a single plot point.

Kyung’s thigh is wedged between Yeri’s, and Yeri’s practically in her lap at this point, their limbs tangled under the blanket. It started with a shared laugh, then Yeri’s hand had wandered, first to Kyung’s wrist, then to her neck, tracing the edge of her jaw like she owned it.

Now Kyung’s lips are pressed to the underside of Yeri’s jaw, leaving soft, slow kisses that are anything but innocent.

“Don’t stop,” Yeri whispers, breath catching as Kyung bites down, gentle at first, then firmer, like she wants it to show.

“You like that?” Kyung mutters against her skin, tongue soothing over the mark she just made.

Yeri nods, eyes fluttering closed. “Want you to do it again.”

Kyung hums, lips dragging lower. “You’re dangerous when you ask nicely.”

She trails open-mouthed kisses down Yeri’s neck, pausing to suck just beneath her collarbone, slow, deliberate, like she’s painting with her mouth. Yeri shudders under her, hands fisting in the back of Kyung’s shirt, tugging her impossibly closer.

“You’re mine,” Kyung murmurs, voice low and rough. “Let me make sure everyone knows it.”

Yeri laughs softly, almost breathless. “No one else sees me like this.”

Kyung pulls back just enough to look at her, flushed cheeks, swollen lips, eyes glassy and dark. Her thumb brushes Yeri’s bottom lip. “Good. I’d kill them.”

Yeri leans up, presses their mouths together again. It’s deep. Desperate. All teeth and tongue and the sound of the movie forgotten completely. One of Kyung’s hands slips under the hem of Yeri’s shirt, resting warm and steady on the small of her back, not pushing, just holding. Grounding.

Yeri shifts in her lap, grinding just slightly, and they both gasp into each other’s mouths.

“Fuck,” Kyung whispers. “You feel so good.”

Yeri bites her lip. “Don’t stop touching me.”

And Kyung doesn’t. Her hands keep roaming, up Yeri’s sides, over her ribs, brushing just under her bra but never going further. She’s not rushing. She’s savoring.

They kiss like they have all the time in the world. Like they’re trying to memorize each other through skin and breath and heat.

By the time they pull apart, the movie’s long over, the room is dark, and Yeri’s neck is blooming with purpling reminders of every place Kyung’s mouth lingered.

Kyung’s hand slips lower, resting just above the waistband of Yeri’s shorts. Not moving, just there, like a promise. Yeri arches into her touch, her breath stuttering as she shifts again, hips rolling slow against Kyung’s thigh.

“Fuck,” Kyung breathes, fingers tightening at her waist. “You’re gonna drive me crazy.”

“Then lose your mind for me,” Yeri murmurs, eyes dark, lips red and glistening from too much kissing. Her hands are under Kyung’s shirt now, palms splayed across her back, sliding up and down, touching like she’s trying to learn her by heart.

Kyung groans low in her throat, dragging Yeri closer until there’s no space left at all. Her thigh presses tighter between Yeri’s legs, and the needy little gasp Yeri lets out makes her throb.

“You like that?” Kyung asks, voice barely holding together.

Yeri nods frantically, breath hot against her neck. “Don’t stop- please, don’t stop.”

Kyung obeys, rocking her leg just enough to give Yeri something to move against. Yeri clutches at her, body trembling with each grind, every brush of pressure making her hips jerk and her moans catch in her throat.

One of Kyung’s hands sneaks up, cupping Yeri’s chest over her bra, thumb brushing lazily over the fabric. Yeri gasps, biting down on Kyung’s shoulder, her fingers curling tight in her hair.

“K-Kyung-”

“I’ve got you,” Kyung whispers, licking over the mark Yeri just made on her skin. Her fingers squeeze gently, then a little firmer. “You’re so fucking sensitive.”

Yeri nods into her shoulder, grinding harder, chasing friction, needing more but not asking for anything else, just this. The tension. The hands. The heat.

Kyung presses her mouth to Yeri’s ear, voice wrecked. “Wanna touch you everywhere.”

“You are,” Yeri gasps, and then shudders when Kyung’s hand slides down again, palming her over her shorts now, slow and mean, making her body jerk in response.

Kyung smirks, lips finding Yeri’s again, deep and messy. “Not enough.”

Their kisses get rougher, wetter. Fingers tangled in hair, hands grabbing at whatever skin they can reach. Kyung rocks up against her, and Yeri moans into her mouth, falling apart from nothing but pressure and hands and heat.

They keep moving like that, slow, desperate grinding and feverish touches, both of them drunk on each other, caught in the kind of haze that makes the world outside disappear.

There’s no finish line. No rush. Just wanting. Just needing.

And the sound of breathless moans echoing between kisses that never stop.

Yeri’s panting now, face buried in Kyung’s neck, hips moving in a steady rhythm that’s getting more desperate by the second. Every grind sends a jolt through her body, and Kyung feels it, every twitch, every shiver.

Kyung slides both hands down, palms dragging slow over Yeri’s waist before gripping low, fingers splaying over the swell of her ass. She squeezes hard, making Yeri gasp and jerk forward with a choked moan.

“You like that, baby?” Kyung murmurs, voice hot against her ear. “Like when I touch you here?”

Yeri whimpers. Nods. Tries to speak but the words melt on her tongue. Kyung chuckles, deep and sinful, and does it again, both hands full of Yeri’s ass now, guiding her hips to move harder, slower, deeper against her thigh.

“Come on,” Kyung coaxes, biting lightly at her earlobe. “Grind on me, pretty girl. Let me feel you.”

Yeri lets out a strangled moan and obeys, hips rolling with more pressure now, the friction making her thighs tremble. Kyung helps, rocking up into her just enough to make the grind hit, deliberate and perfectly placed.

Kyung’s hands keep moving, kneading and spreading her, thumbs dipping under the hem of her shorts to feel more skin. The way Yeri reacts, squirming, breathless, clutching at her shoulders like she’ll fall apart, makes Kyung ache.

“You’re making such a mess,” she whispers, biting down on Yeri’s throat now, leaving another mark to join the others.

Yeri pulls back just enough to kiss her, messy, open-mouthed, teeth clashing. And then, fuck, she sucks on Kyung’s tongue. Hard. Wet. Needy. Like she wants to drag her soul out through her mouth.

Kyung groans into it, fingers digging in harder. One hand slips back up, under Yeri’s shirt, palming one breast, thumb brushing over her nipple through the fabric, while the other stays firm on her ass, pushing, pulling, controlling every grind.

“Feel how wet you are?” she pants, lips brushing Yeri’s. “You’re soaking me.”

Yeri whines. “It’s your fault.”

Kyung smirks, kisses her again, slower this time, with tongue and teeth and soft moans between every breath. “Good.”

And then she drags her lips down Yeri’s jaw, nipping and kissing while her hands never stop moving, one squeezing her chest, the other playing with the curve of her ass, fingers teasing along the edge of her shorts like a threat she’s not ready to follow through on yet.

“You’re mine,” Kyung murmurs, licking the spot just below Yeri’s ear. “Every inch of you.”

“Then take it,” Yeri breathes, eyes glassy. “All of it.”

Kyung just laughs, low and wicked, and presses her back down, pulling her closer, making her grind deeper, slower, harder.

“Gladly.”

Yeri’s breath is a broken thing, stuttering in her throat as her hips stutter harder against Kyung’s thigh. Her hands are clutching Kyung’s shoulders so tight her knuckles have gone white, and she’s moaning, high, choked, needy, into her mouth with every roll of her hips.

Kyung doesn’t let up. One hand is under Yeri’s shirt, teasing her nipple through her bra, pinching just enough to make her jolt every time. The other hand is still on her ass, squeezing, guiding, pushing her to grind deeper, harder, filthier.

"You’re so wet, Yeri," Kyung whispers, lips brushing her ear. "So fucking soaked through these shorts, what are you doing to me, baby?"

“I-I don’t-" Yeri’s words catch in her throat. “I c-can’t-”

“Oh, you can,” Kyung growls, dragging her teeth along Yeri’s jaw. “You’re so close. I can feel it. Come on, baby. Let go.”

And then she bites, just under Yeri’s ear, right as her thigh flexes up, and Yeri breaks.

It hits her like a wave. Her whole body locks, trembling, her hips jerking one final time before a soft, shocked cry rips out of her chest. She gasps Kyung’s name, voice cracking, and then-

She squirts.

It soaks through her shorts. Kyung feels it, hot and sudden, drenching her leg. Yeri’s thighs shake violently, her body shuddering in her arms as she collapses forward, hiding her face in Kyung’s neck.

“Oh my god,” she gasps, barely audible.

Kyung’s eyes go wide for a second, stunned, before a slow, wicked smile curls on her lips. “Yeri…”

Yeri groans, mortified. “Don’t- don’t say anything. I didn’t mean to- fuck-”

Kyung just holds her tighter, kissing her temple, voice warm and a little smug. “You squirted for me, baby?”

Yeri lets out a broken whimper, still trembling.

Kyung cups her cheek, makes her look up, eyes dark, lips swollen, breath still uneven. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re disgusting,” Yeri mumbles, but she’s melting into her arms, legs weak, body buzzing.

Kyung grins, nuzzling her nose against Yeri’s. “You made a mess all over me.”

“I’m gonna die,” Yeri whispers.

Yeri’s still curled in Kyung’s lap, her breathing finally slowing, body limp with exhaustion. Her thighs are trembling, her skin flushed and damp, and her eyes, though half-closed, glow with the afterglow and the tiniest flicker of embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles against Kyung’s collarbone, voice raw. “I didn’t mean to…do that.”

Kyung hushes her instantly, brushing damp hair off her face and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Hey, hey… no apologies. That was beautiful. You were beautiful.”

Yeri groans softly and tries to hide again, but Kyung only chuckles and cups her cheek.

“Let me take care of you, baby.”

Kyung shifts them carefully, lifting Yeri into her arms even though Yeri half-protests. “I can walk.”

“You’re jelly-legged and adorable. Shut up.”

Yeri hides her smile against Kyung’s shoulder as she’s carried down the hall. The bathroom lights are soft and golden when Kyung kicks them on with her foot. She sets Yeri gently on the closed toilet seat, brushing a kiss to the top of her head before kneeling in front of her.

“Arms up,” Kyung whispers, tugging her shirt off slowly, carefully, like she’s fragile. Then she pulls down her soaked shorts, tossing them in the laundry bin like it’s sacred ritual. Yeri shivers, not from cold, but from how tender it all feels.

The tub runs. The water steams.

Kyung helps her in first, testing the temperature with her hand before letting Yeri sink into the warmth. “There we go,” she murmurs, voice low and reverent. “Just relax, yeah?”

Yeri leans her head back against the edge, eyes fluttering shut as the heat seeps into her bones. Kyung joins her only to kneel outside the tub, sleeves rolled up, a washcloth in one hand, her other brushing softly over Yeri’s thigh.

“You were perfect,” she says quietly. “The way you looked. The way you sounded. I wish you could see yourself the way I do.”

Yeri opens her eyes, dazed and teary. “You make me feel so safe.”

Kyung leans in and kisses her, gentle. Clean. Warm.

“I’m here,” she whispers. “Always.”

And when they curl into bed later, Yeri freshly bathed and warm in one of Kyung’s shirts, she lets herself be held, pressed to Kyung’s chest, legs tangled, her name still whispered like a promise against her forehead.

She falls asleep feeling like she belongs. And Kyung doesn’t let go once.

[moontrls]

boss seulgi x assistant reader

wc: 4.1k [smut]

You liked to think you weren’t entirely to blame for the tension in the office.

Sure, you might’ve worn your skirts just a little too tight when you knew she had a meeting. And yes, you maybe sent her that “accidentally” inappropriate email once. Or twice. Okay, three times. But Seulgi never reacted. Not in front of anyone. Not even with a twitch of that perfectly sculpted jaw.

But behind closed doors?

That was a different story.

You knock once on the frosted glass door before slipping inside.

She doesn’t look up. Just flips a page in the folder she’s reviewing.

“Shut the door.”

Click.

You cross the room slowly, heels tapping across the hardwood. Her eyes are still downcast, but you don’t miss the way her pen pauses.

You stop beside her desk. “You called for me, Ms. Woo?”

“I did.” Her tone is cool, businesslike. But the look she gives you when she finally raises her eyes?

It pins you in place.

“Care to explain this?” She slides a piece of paper across the desk. Your email. The one with the mildly suggestive double meaning. Okay, not mildly.

You shrug with an innocent smile. “Guess I need a better filter.”

Seulgi stands. Slowly. Deliberately. She circles the desk, stopping just inches from you. You tilt your head up to meet her gaze, only to find her eyes already darkened, locked on your mouth.

“Is that so?” she murmurs, her fingers brushing your waist as she walks past you toward the blinds. She twists the rod until the office is cloaked in privacy.

Then she turns back to you, smile razor-sharp.

“If you’re going to act like a brat in my office, you’d better be ready to be treated like one.”

Your breath catches.

She steps close again, fingers trailing lightly along your arm before gripping your chin.

“On your knees.”

Your knees hit the floor, the plush carpet soft against your skin but doing nothing to soothe the heat that floods your body.

Seulgi watches you, cool and collected, like she’s about to devour you and won’t even mess up her lipstick doing it. Her tie hangs perfectly against the crisp white of her shirt, just a shade darker than the expression in her eyes.

“I should fire you,” she says flatly, walking behind you, her heels clicking softly. “But then…” Her fingers brush your hair off your shoulder. “I’d miss having someone to discipline properly.”

You shiver.

She moves in front of you again, slow and precise, then begins to loosen her tie with one hand. Her acrylics, glossy, sharp, white as bone, catch the office light with every movement. You can’t look away.

“You like playing games, don’t you?” she murmurs, voice low, laced with mock affection.

You don’t answer.

She crouches, tilting your chin up with the knuckle of her finger. “Speak.”

“Yes, Ms. Woo.”

Her lips curl into a smirk. “That’s better.”

She wraps the tie around your neck, not choking, just enough pressure to remind you exactly who’s in control. Her thumb rests against the knot, teasing it tighter.

“You send me another email like that,” she says, “and I won’t be nearly this gentle.”

Her other hand moves to your lips, thumb grazing the bottom one. “Open.”

You do. Of course you do.

The fabric tightens slightly.

“Keep your hands on your thighs. No touching. No whining.”

She leans in, whisper brushing against your cheek like a threat.

“Earn your punishment.”

You sit obediently, the silk of her tie snug around your neck, her thumb still grazing your lower lip like she owns every inch of you.

Because she does.

Woo Seulgi doesn’t rush. She never does.

She rises to her full height, eyes locked on yours as she adjusts the sleeves of her blazer. “Good,” she murmurs. “You’re learning.”

You hear the click of her heels as she circles again, this time slower, like she’s savoring the moment. Her fingers trail over your shoulders, soft, then firmer, nails grazing the back of your neck. You can feel her white acrylics skim the skin, teasing but sharp. Like claws.

“Look at you,” she says, voice a low purr. “Acting all innocent now. Where’s that brat who flirted in front of the interns? Hm?”

You swallow hard.

She leans close behind you, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Maybe I should’ve bent you over my desk the moment you started acting out. Maybe I’ve been too generous.”

You exhale, shaky. Wanting.

She straightens again. “Up.”

You stand. Slowly. The tie remains wrapped around your neck, her hand still holding the end. With a light tug, she pulls you closer, until there’s barely space between your bodies.

“I like my things obedient,” Seulgi says, her voice smooth like velvet dipped in danger. “But you…” Her hand glides down your arm, nails trailing. “You like to test me.”

You nod. Barely.

Wrong move.

Her hand shoots to your jaw, fingers gripping tight.

“I didn’t ask you to agree.” Her tone sharpens, ice beneath the fire. “I told you.”

You gasp. Her gaze flickers down to your lips, then lower. She tilts her head slightly, considering.

“I should make you wait.”

You blink. “Ms. Woo…”

Her smirk is cruel. Delicious.

“Oh? Now you want something?”

She lets go of your face and takes a step back, tugging the tie just enough to make you follow.

“Get on the desk.”

Your breath stutters.

“Face down.”

Your heart’s a drum in your chest. You move, shaking, eager, and do as you're told, the cool wood meeting your palms as your body presses to the surface. She walks around to her chair and sits, legs crossed, slowly removing her blazer with a practiced elegance that’s almost violent in its restraint.

You glance back, and she catches your eye, amused.

“I said face down.”

You obey instantly.

She stands again.

“Don’t make a sound unless I ask you to.”

Her nails, those pristine white talons, trace down your spine, through your shirt, slow and firm. The soft press of her fingertips leaves goosebumps in their wake.

“I’ll teach you how to behave,” she whispers.

“You’re mine now.”

The silence in the office is unbearable.

You can hear everything, the ticking of the clock, the low hum of the AC, the slight shift of fabric as Seulgi moves behind you. Still seated. Still calm.

Still watching.

You don’t dare look up.

She’s said nothing in minutes, but her presence is electric. You can feel her gaze crawl over your body, possessive, patient. She’s not just punishing you. She’s studying you. Learning every flinch, every breath you take while under her control.

Then, finally, a sound.

The slow unbuttoning of her cuffs.

Click.

Click.

You feel a rush of heat low in your stomach.

“You’re so quiet now,” she murmurs. Her voice is maddeningly calm, like she’s talking about a quarterly report. “But earlier, when you were bending over to grab that file in front of the interns, I seem to remember you moaning.”

You swallow hard. Your cheeks burn.

Seulgi rises again, slow, predatory. The sound of her heels comes closer. The tie tightens just slightly.

She leans over you, one hand bracing on the desk beside your head. You can smell her perfume, clean, crisp, with something darker underneath. Like spice and dominance and danger.

Her lips brush your ear. “Was that for my attention?”

You nod, without thinking.

Her hand slides into your hair and pulls back, not harsh, but firm enough to make your lips part in a gasp.

“Wrong again, baby,” she whispers. “You ask for my attention. You don’t steal it.”

You blink up at her, heart pounding. “Then I’m asking now…”

A pause.

Her eyes flash. “You think I’m going to give you what you want just because you’re desperate?”

Another heartbeat of silence.

Then, 

Knock knock.

Your body jolts.

Seulgi freezes, but only for a second.

She doesn’t even turn around.

“Yes?” Her voice is perfectly composed.

From the other side of the door: “Ms. Woo? You have that conference call in ten.”

“Thank you,” she calls back. “Hold my calls for the next fifteen.”

“…Yes, ma’am.”

The footsteps retreat.

You let out a shaky breath, but it’s short-lived. Because the moment the hallway is quiet again, Seulgi’s lips are at your ear once more.

“You have eight minutes to make me change my mind,” she whispers, fingers slowly undoing the first button of your blouse. “If you don’t, I’ll leave you like this until the end of the day.”

You make a soft, desperate sound.

She grins against your skin.

“Clock’s ticking, darling.”

You don’t think, you move.

The moment Seulgi says the words, you're already shifting, arching into her touch like it’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted. Your hands grip the edge of the desk, knuckles white. Your breath comes quick, lips parted, eyes wide as she unbuttons your blouse with a patience that feels more like punishment than mercy.

One.

Two.

Three.

Each button undone is a threat.

Her white acrylics brush your skin, teasing over your chest, your stomach, every movement deliberate and devastating.

“You’re trying so hard,” she hums, the barest smile curling her lips. “Desperate little thing.”

“I just, ” you pant, voice low and breathy, “I want you to, ”

“Shhh,” she cuts in, a single nail pressing lightly to your lips. “You want a lot of things. That doesn’t mean you get them.”

You whimper. Her hand drops again, ghosting over your lower back, nails dragging just enough to make your thighs tremble.

“But you’re trying,” she murmurs, almost thoughtful now. “You know your place. You obeyed.”

She leans close again, tongue just barely flicking against your ear. “You made me almost forgive you.”

You blink. "Almost?"

A sharp ding breaks the tension.

Her phone screen lights up on the desk.

Time’s up.

You turn, breath caught in your throat.

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “Ms. Woo, please, ”

Seulgi exhales slowly, like she’s almost… annoyed. Not angry, just inconvenienced by how much she wants you right now.

She steps back, eyes scanning your disheveled state. Your shirt open, tie still looped around your throat, face flushed, chest heaving.

Helpless.

Perfect.

She hums softly, adjusting her own tie in the reflection of the glass.

“You’ve changed my mind,” she says at last, calm as ever.

Your heart skips.

But before you can smile, she continues:

“I’ll deal with you after the meeting.”

The air leaves your lungs.

“You’ll stay exactly like this,” she adds, smoothing your collar with a soft, possessive tug on the tie. “Blouse open. Hands on the desk. Quiet. Waiting.”

She presses her lips against your ear once more.

“And if I come back and find that you’ve touched yourself without permission?”

Her smile sharpens.

“I’ll make sure you regret it.”

She pulls away, slips her blazer back on like nothing happened, and heads for the door.

Right before she steps out, she looks over her shoulder one last time, dark eyes, lips parted just slightly.

“You wanted my attention.”

Pause.

“Now you have it.”

Click.

The door closes.

And you’re left there.

Panting.

Trembling.

Ruined.

It feels like hours.

But it hasn’t been. Maybe fifteen minutes. Twenty at most.

You’re still bent over her desk, palms flat, blouse undone and hanging off your shoulders, Seulgi’s tie snug around your throat. You haven’t moved. Haven’t touched. Haven’t made a sound.

You behaved.

Just like she asked.

And now? You’re aching. Soaked. Every nerve in your body is alive with need, your thighs pressed together for some kind of relief, but it’s not enough. Nothing is enough unless it’s her.

Then you hear it.

The soft click of the office door opening.

Your breath catches.

Heels. Slow, steady.

She doesn’t speak. Just walks in like she hasn’t left you ruined and waiting, like her meeting didn’t mean absolutely nothing compared to the power she held over you in this room.

You hear her set something on the desk. A folder maybe. Her phone.

And then, finally, her voice.

“You listened.”

You don’t move. “Yes, Ms. Woo.”

“Good girl.”

The praise hits harder than you expect.

She steps behind you, so close you can feel the warmth of her body. A soft, deliberate hand brushes your lower back, smooth and possessive.

“I was worried you might disobey,” she murmurs, her tone still professional, but it’s lower now. Darker. “But here you are. Bent over like a gift.”

You feel her fingers at the tie around your neck. She tightens it, not to choke, just to remind you who you belong to.

Then she leans in.

Her lips ghost over your cheek, your jaw… and finally your mouth.

The kiss is slow at first. Claiming. Her lips part yours with purpose, her tongue sliding in, unhurried, all control. She kisses like she’s savoring you, like this is hers to take and no one else gets a taste.

When she pulls back, your lips are slick, parted, eyes hazy.

“You want more?” she whispers.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please…”

She hums, pleased. Her hands trail down your back, and then, finally, she kneels behind you.

You jolt when you feel her fingers on your thighs, those pristine white acrylics gliding up, cold and perfect.

“I said I’d be gentle,” she murmurs, kissing the back of your thigh. “And I will.”

Her fingers slip between your legs, slow at first, just to feel how wet you are. Her lips curve against your skin.

“Look at you,” she says softly. “Ruined from nothing but a command.”

You gasp as one finger pushes in, slow but firm. She’s careful with the nail, curling just enough to make your hips jerk.

She chuckles darkly, kissing your hip.

“Don’t worry,” she purrs. “I know how to use them.”

Another finger slides in. Deeper. Her free hand slides up your back, nails dragging lightly over your spine, until it reaches your shoulder and presses down, holding you in place.

And then, her mouth finds your ear again.

She bites. Softly. Just enough to make you gasp.

“You stayed so quiet before,” she whispers, lips brushing your skin. “Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Her fingers move deeper, steady, filling you with a rhythm that feels more like worship than punishment. Each curl, each thrust is measured, precise. You’ve never been touched like this. Not with nails like that, not with this kind of control. You whimper into the desk, head turned to the side, eyes already glassy from the burn of need and how badly you want to fall.

But Seulgi doesn’t rush.

No, she stays right there, pressed to your back, lips brushing your ear, breath warm and maddening.

“You feel that?” she whispers, voice like silk soaked in sin. “That’s mine.”

Her fingers thrust again, just a little harder. You let out a sob of pleasure, legs trembling.

“You’re going to give it to me, aren’t you?”

A kiss to the curve of your ear.

“You’re going to come for me. Right here. Bent over my desk like a good little thing.”

Another thrust, deeper, deliberate. Her palm presses against your hip, keeping you pinned.

You nod frantically, body already spiraling, your moans growing louder with every movement. And she’s still whispering. Still there.

“You’ve been teasing me for weeks,” she murmurs. “Wearing those tight little skirts. Smiling like you wanted to be ruined.”

Her lips press hot kisses to your neck now, between whispers, between bites, her hand never once slowing its pace.

“Now you get it.”

She shifts slightly, just enough to bite the shell of your ear.

“You belong to me.”

The words hit you like lightning.

And that’s it.

You come undone.

Hard.

A cry rips from your throat as your body jerks beneath her, hips shaking, fingers clawing the desk. Her hand never leaves you, her fingers ride you through it, coaxing every last wave of your orgasm while her mouth stays right at your ear, whispering praises.

“Good girl…”

“So beautiful like this…”

“Let go. Just let it happen. I’ve got you.”

Your legs threaten to give out, but she holds you steady, never once pulling back, never once letting you slip away from her. Her lips press soft, almost loving kisses to your ear, your jaw, your neck.

You’re trembling.

Breathless.

Broken in the most perfect way.

And Seulgi? Still composed. Still in control. But there's something softer in her voice now, something dangerously addictive.

“You did so well for me,” she whispers, brushing a damp strand of hair from your cheek. “But we’re not done yet.”

Her fingers slip out of you, slow and wet, and she brings them to your lips without giving you time to recover.

“Suck.”

And just like that, you obey.

Because now?

You’re hers.

Completely.

You’re still catching your breath when she lifts you, effortless, without a word.

Her grip is firm on your waist as she sits you down on the edge of her desk, legs dangling slightly, blouse half-off, tie still snug around your neck like a collar she hasn’t forgotten. Her eyes are on fire now, sharp, low-lidded, hungry. The kind of hunger that doesn’t ask. It takes.

She steps between your legs, hands spreading your thighs wide. Her palms land on your chest, squeezing through the fabric. Not gentle. Possessive. Kneading hard enough to make you moan.

“You like being used, don’t you?” she murmurs, lips brushing yours with just the edge of a kiss. “You like when I make you behave.”

“Yes,” you whisper, breath catching as her thumbs flick your nipples through your shirt. “I want, ”

Her mouth crashes into yours before you can finish.

It’s not a kiss.

It’s a claim.

Her tongue pushes past your lips, taking what’s hers, tasting you like you belong in her mouth. Her nails bite into your waist as her hips grind against you, slow at first, then rougher. You feel her, hard and wet through the fabric of her slacks, grinding right into your heat like she’s punishing you for surviving without her the last twenty minutes.

Your head tilts back and she follows, never breaking the kiss, lips now trailing along your jaw, down to your throat.

She bites again.

Your legs wrap around her waist instinctively, pulling her closer, and she grinds harder, deliberate, slow circles of her hips that make your head spin.

“You don’t get to tease me like that and expect mercy,” she growls into your neck. Her breath is hot. Her voice even hotter. “I’ve been sitting in that meeting thinking about bending you in half.”

You whimper, hands gripping the edge of the desk again.

She chuckles darkly. “Look at you. Can’t even speak. And I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

Her hand slides down between you again, no hesitation this time. No teasing.

Her fingers find you, hot and slick and already throbbing. She groans into your mouth as her thumb circles your clit, her other hand gripping the back of your head, forcing your lips to hers again.

“Keep your eyes on me,” she whispers against your mouth. “I want to watch you fall apart this time.”

She grinds into you harder now, her hand relentless, her lips devouring every moan. And you?

You’re already on the edge again.

Desperate. Ruined. Entirely hers.

And she knows it.

Your head falls back as her fingers pull out of you, wet and shaking, your legs already weak from how close you were again. You’re gasping, needy, your chest rising and falling fast. But Seulgi?

She’s calm. Always calm.

Except now, there’s heat behind her eyes. No more teasing. No more patience.

She steps back, just enough to unbuckle her belt. Slow. Deliberate. Still in her dress shirt, tie still in place, the picture of control. But when her pants slide down and you see it? Your breath catches.

Black. Thick. Curved just right. 7.5 inches of promise.

Her hand wraps around the base, adjusting the strap around her hips like she’s done this a hundred times, because she has. She steps forward again, slipping her fingers under your thighs and dragging you to the edge of the desk.

You’re soaked.

“You’ve been good,” she murmurs, her voice low, deliciously cruel. “So I’ll be gentle.”

She lines up. The head presses against your entrance, already slick from how badly you want her. She doesn’t rush, just pushes in inch by inch, watching your face the whole time.

Your mouth falls open in a silent moan as she stretches you, slow, deep, perfect.

“That’s it,” she whispers, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Take it.”

She bottoms out with a soft groan, hips flush against yours. You’re already trembling, clenching around nothing but silicone, but the pressure, the depth, the way she moves? You swear she’s inside your soul.

Then she starts to move.

Slow thrusts. Controlled. Deep.

She leans forward, her mouth back on your ear, grinding her hips into yours in perfect rhythm.

“You feel how deep I am?” she whispers. “No one else gets this. Just you.”

Your hands clutch her shirt, holding on as she starts to thrust harder. Her hand slides between you again, thumb rubbing your clit in rhythm with her hips.

“I can feel you squeezing around it,” she growls. “You’re gonna come for me again, aren’t you?”

You nod, already so close you could cry.

“Say it.”

“I, I’m gonna come, Seulgi, !”

She kisses you again, messy, possessive, tongues tangled as her hips slam into you faster, harder. You feel the curve of the strap hit just right, again and again, and her thumb never stops, 

Then you feel it.

A stutter in her rhythm.

The strap pulses.

Warm.

She moans against your mouth, low and guttural, and you realize, 

She’s coming too.

The strap releases inside you. A hot, thick gush. You cry out at the sensation, full, stretched, filled. It’s too much. It’s perfect.

Your orgasm crashes into you, sharp and unstoppable.

You scream her name as your body seizes, thighs shaking around her hips. She rides it out, never leaving you, never stopping. Her lips stay at your ear, kissing you, whispering how perfect you are, how you’re hers now.

And when it’s over, when you're both breathless, trembling, soaked in sweat and something deeper, she doesn’t pull out right away.

She holds you.

Still buried deep inside.

Still whispering.

“I told you,” she breathes against your ear. “You’re mine.”

You’re barely aware of anything, except the feeling of her still inside you, the gentle pressure of her body, her breath against your neck.

You’re spent.

Trembling.

Ruined.

And then, you feel her move.

Not away.

Not gone.

Just gentle.

Careful.

Her hands are on your hips, lifting you slowly, carefully sliding out. You gasp softly at the loss, already missing the way she filled you, but she hushes you with a kiss.

“You did so well,” she murmurs. Her voice has softened, still low, but threaded with warmth now. “You took everything.”

She grabs a tissue box from her desk drawer, like she’s done this before, and starts cleaning you up as best she can. Her hands are gentle, but thorough, dabbing between your thighs, wiping up her own release from where it’s started to drip out of you.

“I made a mess,” she murmurs, brushing your hair from your face as you lean back against her desk, dazed. “But you liked it.”

You nod slowly, still catching your breath.

She chuckles softly, presses a kiss to your temple. “Of course you did.”

Your blouse is still hanging off your shoulders, and her tie is loose around your neck, but she doesn’t rush to fix it. She takes her time, buttoning your shirt for you, smoothing out the wrinkles, then gently slipping the tie off like it’s something precious.

And maybe it is.

“You’re coming home with me.”

You blink up at her, wide-eyed.

She meets your gaze, calm, unwavering. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Her voice isn’t threatening this time. It’s a promise.

“But first…” She leans in and presses a kiss to your lips, soft, slow, lingering. “…you’re going to rest. I’ll finish my papers.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes, small, shaky, wrecked. “You work even after this?”

Another kiss.

“I do a lot of things.”

She tucks her strap away in a drawer, casually, like it’s just another office tool, and pulls her blazer back on. Then she grabs your hand, helping you down from the desk with care.

You wobble. She catches you.

“I’ve got you,” she says simply, pressing a kiss to your hair.

And she does.

Because Woo Seulgi always gets what she wants.

And tonight?

She’s taking you home.

[moontrls]

choi kyung x dom!reader

cw: thigh riding humiliation Yada yada

Kyung looks like she’s about to murder her textbook.

She’s sitting cross-legged on your bed, hunched over notes she barely understands, lips pursed in that signature frown of hers. You’re across from her, watching the way her eyebrows twitch in frustration every time she reads the same line for the third time.

“Need help?” you offer, soft and maybe a little too smug.

She shoots you a glare. “If I wanted help, I’d ask.”

You bite back a smile and stretch out on your stomach, flipping through your own materials just to pretend you’re still focused. But really, your eyes keep drifting to her, Kyung, in your room, looking annoyed and gorgeous and a little too comfortable in her oversized hoodie and messy ponytail.

It’s been like this for weeks now. You study together. She complains. You tease her. She rolls her eyes. But beneath it all, there’s a crackling tension, a closeness that neither of you names.

Kyung sighs, tossing her pen aside. “I hate this.”

“You hate everything,” you say, and that earns a tired smirk from her.

She shifts, crawling over to sit beside you, close enough that your knees brush. Her hair smells like citrus shampoo. You try not to inhale too deeply.

“You’re distracting,” she mutters, eyes still on her notes but voice quiet now, almost hesitant.

“Me?”

She nods, barely. “Yeah. You. Always.”

There’s a beat of silence. You turn your head toward her, and she finally looks up, meeting your eyes for just a second too long.

And then, without asking, without warning, Kyung swings one leg over you and settles on your thigh, like it’s the most natural place for her to be. Your breath catches.

“Still think I’m distracted?” she asks, her voice low, challenging.

You don’t answer. You don’t have to.

Your breath hitches, just for a moment, but you recover quickly. She’s testing you, you know it. Probably doesn’t even realize how much she’s giving away.

“You’re not helping your case,” you murmur, resting your hands lightly on the bed, refusing to touch her even though she’s right there.

Kyung shrugs, but you can see the corner of her mouth twitch. “Didn’t say I wanted to be helped.”

She leans forward, reaching past you to grab her pen again, the movement pressing her closer to your body, like she’s doing it on purpose. Her fingers graze your arm as she pulls back, and you’re almost sure you imagine the smirk on her lips when she settles again, still perched comfortably on your thigh.

You don’t say anything. Neither does she.

Instead, she starts reading aloud in a flat, bored tone, reciting definitions like nothing just happened. Like she’s not straddling you. Like you’re not hyper-aware of every point of contact between your bodies.

You try to focus. You really do. But every time her voice dips, every time she shifts her weight even slightly, it’s like your body short-circuits.

“Are you even listening?” she asks suddenly, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye.

“Trying,” you answer, a little too honestly.

Kyung hums, satisfied. “Good. I don’t want to repeat myself.”

She keeps reading, completely unfazed, and you wonder how she manages to look so cool while holding you hostage in your own bedroom with nothing but her legs and a cocky grin.

The two of you study like that for the next hour, tension unspoken, unsolved, and sitting heavy in the air.

But neither of you moves.

And maybe that says more than anything else.

The clock ticks past midnight before either of you realizes how late it’s gotten. You stretch your arms above your head, bones cracking, eyes bleary from too many notes and too many almosts.

Kyung yawns, blinking slowly as she glances toward the window. “I should go.”

But she doesn’t move. She’s still sitting on your bed, textbook forgotten, thumb tracing the edge of your notebook like she’s waiting for you to give her a reason not to leave.

“It’s too late,” you say casually, already rising from the bed. “Stay.”

She raises an eyebrow. “And sleep where, genius? On your floor?”

You toss a playful glare over your shoulder as you pull open your dresser. “You’re not sleeping on the floor. Don’t be dramatic.”

You rummage through a few drawers before tossing her a folded shirt and a pair of soft shorts. “Here. They should fit.”

Kyung catches them mid-air, inspecting your clothes like they might bite her. “You sure you want me wearing your stuff?”

You pause, meeting her gaze. “You already sat on my thigh for thirty minutes, Kyung. Wearing my shirt won’t kill either of us.”

Her smirk is quick and amused, but she doesn’t say anything else, just stands and walks to the other side of the room with your clothes clutched loosely in one hand.

You turn your back politely as she changes, but you’re very aware of the rustling fabric, the sound of her zipper, the soft scrape of skin against cotton. When she pads back over, the shirt hangs loose on her frame, dipping low over one shoulder. Your shorts cling to her hips in a way that makes it hard to look away.

She looks… soft. Unarmored. Still Kyung, but quieter.

“Your bed’s small,” she says as she slips under the covers without asking.

“So are you,” you reply, flipping the light off before crawling in beside her.

The mattress dips beneath your weight, and for a moment, everything is still. Your shoulders touch, barely. Neither of you breathes too loud.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, so low you almost miss it.

You don’t answer. You just let the quiet settle, the kind that feels strangely full instead of empty.

And Kyung doesn’t pull away.

It’s quiet for a long time. The kind of quiet that presses in around you, all breath and warmth and the occasional rustle of fabric as one of you shifts. You don’t know exactly when your hand starts moving, just a gentle touch at first, fingers brushing her arm under the blanket.

She doesn’t stop you.

So you keep going, tracing slow lines up to her shoulder, then back down. Her skin is warm under your fingertips. She’s facing away from you, curled slightly, her breath steady but just a little too careful.

“Kyungie,” you whisper.

You feel her flinch, barely, like the nickname touched something she wasn’t ready to admit was there.

“What,” she mutters, defensive but quiet.

“You’re cute when you’re shy.”

She scoffs, but it’s so soft it barely makes it out of her mouth. “I’m not shy.”

“No?” you tease, sliding your hand further, past her elbow, resting it lightly against her waist. “Then why are you blushing?”

“Shut up.”

But she still doesn’t move. Doesn’t pull away. Instead, she turns, slowly, until you’re facing each other in the dark. Her eyes flicker over your face, searching, unsure. You’re close, so close you can feel her breath against your cheek.

You reach up and brush her hair back, letting your fingers linger just a second too long.

“I wanna kiss you,” you say quietly. “But you can tell me no.”

She stares at you, lips parted, like she wasn’t expecting that kind of softness. Her voice is barely audible when she whispers, “Okay.”

You lean in slowly, giving her every chance to back away. But she doesn’t. Her eyes flutter shut just as your lips brush hers, barely a kiss, more like a question. She answers it by leaning forward, closing the distance fully, mouth pressing against yours with a hesitant urgency.

Her lips are soft and warm and slightly chapped, moving tentatively at first, unsure, like she’s afraid of doing too much. You cup her jaw gently, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth as you deepen the kiss.

That’s when something in her shifts.

She sighs into you, her hand coming up to your chest, fingers curling lightly into your shirt. Your tongues meet, slow and searching, and she lets out the quietest, most breathless sound against your mouth, like she’s finally letting go of something she’s been holding back for too long.

You tilt your head, kissing her deeper now, savoring the way she melts into it. She tastes like mint and something sweeter, something you can’t quite name. Her body presses closer, her leg slipping between yours, the kiss turning messier by the second.

Kyung’s hand finds your waist, holding you like she needs to ground herself, and when your teeth graze her bottom lip, she gasps, small, surprised, and entirely hers.

You pull back just slightly, both of you breathless.

“You okay?” you murmur, forehead resting against hers.

She nods, eyes still closed. “Yeah. Just… didn’t think you’d actually want me like that.”

You smile, brushing your nose against hers. “I’ve wanted you, Kyungie. For a while.”

Her face flushes deeper, but her smile is real now, soft, shy, and just a little dangerous.

And when she pulls you in again, she kisses you like she believes it.

Kyung’s lips are still parted when you kiss her again, slower this time, more deliberate. Your hand slides down from her jaw to her waist, gripping her just a little firmer. She reacts with a quiet inhale, one she tries to hide, but her body gives her away.

“You always act so tough,” you murmur between kisses, “but you’re so soft for me.”

Her breath hitches, and you feel her fingers curl against your chest like she wants to push you away but can’t bring herself to.

“I’m not-” she starts, but her voice falters when your mouth trails down to her neck.

You press open-mouthed kisses along her skin, slow and warm, letting your lips linger. She tilts her head back without realizing it, giving you more space. You smile against her neck and let your teeth graze her there, just enough to make her squirm.

“Kyungie,” you whisper again, letting the pet name drip off your tongue.

She shudders. Her thighs press together under the blanket. And when you move up to her ear, exhaling softly before taking her earlobe gently between your lips, her entire body tenses.

“Shit,” she breathes, barely audible.

You nibble, slow and teasing, letting your tongue flick lightly at the edge. Her hand flies up to your shoulder, not to stop you, just to anchor herself, fingers digging in like she doesn’t trust her own reactions.

“Sensitive, baby?” you murmur against her ear.

“Don’t, ” she gasps as your hand slips under the hem of the shirt she’s wearing, your shirt, and finds the curve of her waist. You squeeze gently, then slide your hand up to palm her breast over her bra.

She moans, quiet and strangled, muffled against your neck as she presses her face there, trying to hide the sound.

“God, you’re so pretty like this,” you whisper, voice thick with want. “You fall apart the second I touch you.”

“I hate you,” she mumbles, voice trembling.

You grin. “No, you don’t.”

You grope her again, this time slower, letting your thumb stroke over the swell of her breast as your mouth returns to her ear, kissing and biting, soft and wicked.

She rolls her hips instinctively, grinding against your thigh under the blanket.

You exhale sharply, loving the way her control slips more and more with each touch.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper. “You don’t have to be tough with me.”

She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t stop you either. Her hand grips your shirt like a lifeline. Her breath comes faster. Her whole body is flushed and trembling against yours.

And when you press your lips back to hers, deep and slow, she kisses you like she’s finally letting herself fall.

Kyung’s breathing is ragged now, her lips kiss-swollen, pupils blown wide in the dim light. She’s straddling your thigh again under the covers, only this time, there’s no pretending it’s casual. Her hips roll with slow, aching need, her clothed core grinding down as she pants softly against your mouth.

"Please," she whispers, barely audible.

You still, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. "Please what, baby?"

Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t look away. There’s something raw in her gaze, something stripped down to its most vulnerable edge. “Mark me.”

Your breath catches.

She swallows. “Want everyone to know I’m yours.”

You don't say anything, not right away. You just press your hand to the middle of her chest and push gently until she’s on her back. She lets you, lets you settle between her legs as her thighs cradle your hips. Her body moves instinctively, grinding up against you, chasing friction.

“Take this off,” you murmur, tugging at the hem of your shirt clinging to her body.

Kyung lifts her arms without a word, and you peel it off her slowly, revealing smooth skin and the black bra beneath. You kiss up her stomach, watching the way she squirms under your touch, and when you reach the clasp, you undo it with ease, letting the fabric fall away.

She’s gorgeous, laid out, breathing heavy, nipples already hard from how worked up she is. You take a moment just to look at her.

And then you lower your head.

Her gasp cuts through the silence when your mouth closes around one of her nipples, hot and wet, tongue swirling slowly. You suck, gentle at first, then harder when she arches into your mouth, a moan slipping free before she can catch it.

“F-fuck…” she whimpers, hands flying to your hair, holding on like she’ll float away otherwise.

You switch to the other side, letting your teeth graze the sensitive bud before sucking deep, letting your tongue flick over and over until her hips stutter and her grinding turns frantic.

Your thigh is soaked through.

She’s panting, flushed down to her chest, fingers digging into your scalp like she’s losing herself.

“Such a good girl,” you murmur against her skin, trailing your lips up her chest and throat. “Look at you. So desperate just to feel something.”

She whines, actually whines, when you start sucking at the side of her neck, right below her ear. You bite, just enough to make her yelp, then soothe it with your tongue.

“Y-you’re gonna leave a mark,” she stammers, but her hips are still rolling, her thighs shaking.

“Good,” you growl, biting a little lower. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

She nods desperately, gasping when you grope her again with one hand, the other gripping her hip to guide her movement against your leg.

“Say it,” you demand, mouth hot against her collarbone.

“I- I want it,” she moans. “Wanna be yours. Wanna feel you everywhere.”

You smirk against her skin, already planning where else you’ll mark her.

And beneath you, Kyung trembles, completely at your mercy, exactly where she wants to be.

Your name falls from her lips like a prayer.

Over and over again, breathless and trembling, like it’s the only thing she remembers. Her hips grind down frantically now, pace desperate, her thighs shaking around your leg as you press against her just right, letting her chase that high she’s so close to losing herself in.

She’s soaked, completely, the fabric clinging between her legs sticking to your skin. You can feel the heat of her, feel how wet she is, how out of control.

“Fuck, fuck, I can’t, ” she gasps, clutching your shoulders now, nails digging in like she’s afraid she’ll fly apart if she lets go.

“You can, baby,” you whisper, kissing the corner of her mouth before moving to her jaw, her neck, sucking another bruise just beneath the first. “You’re doing so good for me.”

Her hips stutter at the praise. You feel it, a twitch, a breath caught in her throat. Her eyes are squeezed shut now, lips parted, tears building at the corners from how overwhelmed she is.

You slide your hand down again, slipping it between your bodies, pressing just the lightest pressure against the soaked fabric between her legs. She screams into your shoulder, muffled, high-pitched, completely wrecked.

“Oh my god- don’t stop, please, don’t-” she chokes out, voice breaking.

You obey, keeping the rhythm steady, just enough pressure to send her spiraling. You mouth at her collarbone, wet and messy, sucking another hickey there just as she starts to fall apart.

Her legs lock around your thigh. Her body jerks, once, then again, her whole frame trembling as a broken sob escapes her throat.

And then she’s gone.

Her orgasm crashes over her like a wave, ripping through her with brutal intensity. She shudders violently, crying out your name, hips grinding helplessly as if she’s trying to prolong it, to squeeze every last drop of pleasure from your touch.

You hold her the entire time, kissing her cheek, her temple, whispering soft words through her moans.

When her body finally goes slack beneath you, she collapses against your chest, gasping for air, flushed and glistening with sweat. She buries her face into your neck, arms tight around you, like she’s embarrassed, but she doesn’t pull away.

“Holy shit,” she whispers hoarsely.

You smile, stroking her back slowly. “You okay, baby?”

She nods, still trembling. “I’ve never… that was…”

You kiss her forehead. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Kyung clings to you for a long time, soft and small, breathing slowly returning to normal. Her tough walls are gone, replaced with something real, something tender. You hold her close, wrapping her in your arms like she’s yours.

Because she is.

You kiss her again, slow and deep, but gentler this time. Her lips are still trembling from how hard she came, and you savor every little whimper she gives you as you move against her mouth.

Kyung melts into you, her body pliant and warm, fingers loose where they cling to your shirt. She’s not saying much, but she doesn’t have to. Every kiss she gives back is a quiet thank-you, every soft sigh a confession she doesn’t know how to say out loud.

When you finally pull back, her eyes flutter open, dazed and glassy. You run your fingers through her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear.

“Hey,” you whisper. “Let me clean you up, okay?”

She nods, cheeks flushed, eyes darting away in embarrassment. “Mhm…”

You kiss her forehead and gently shift away, peeling the blanket back. Her legs are still trembling slightly, and you feel a rush of affection so strong it makes your chest ache.

You grab a towel from your dresser and return to her, kneeling beside the bed as you begin to wipe her inner thighs carefully. She jolts at first, but you hush her with a kiss to her knee, whispering soft reassurances.

“Still so sensitive,” you murmur, brushing your thumb gently over her skin. “You really made a mess, Kyungie.”

She groans and covers her face with both hands. “Stop…”

You glance up at her with a grin. “Stop what? Telling the truth?”

She doesn’t answer, but her legs squeeze shut on instinct, her entire body radiating mortified heat.

You reach for her soaked panties, carefully sliding them down her thighs. She tries to protest, but you catch her wrist with a teasing smirk.

“These?” you say, holding them up. “I’m keeping them.”

Her eyes fly open. “No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am,” you say smugly. “My pretty girl grinds herself stupid on my thigh and you think I’m not keeping the evidence?”

Kyung groans again, dragging a pillow over her face this time.

You laugh softly, setting the panties aside and grabbing one of your oversized shirts from the drawer. You gently pull it over her head, helping her into it like she’s fragile, which, right now, she kind of is.

“Arms up, baby.”

She obeys without thinking, still hiding her face as you dress her.

Once she’s covered, you slide into bed beside her, pulling the blanket over you both. She finally peeks out from under the pillow, cheeks still burning.

“You’re evil,” she mumbles.

You grin, wrapping an arm around her waist and tugging her close. “Maybe. But you’re mine.”

She pauses for a beat… then nuzzles into your chest.

“Yeah,” she whispers. “I am.”

For a long while, Kyung stays quiet, just curled up beside you, breath slowly evening out as the storm inside her settles. The room feels heavier now, but in a comforting way, like the air’s thicker with trust, with something real neither of you is naming out loud yet.

You feel the moment it hits her.

Her fingers twitch against your chest, and her body tenses just slightly before curling in even closer, like she’s trying to make herself smaller. She presses her face into your neck, arms winding tight around your waist like she’s afraid you might disappear if she lets go.

You shift gently, cradling her closer, stroking her back with soft, slow movements.

“Kyungie,” you whisper, “I’ve got you.”

She doesn’t respond, not with words. Instead, she exhales shakily and lets her body melt into yours, her legs tangling with yours, her breath warm against your skin.

She feels tiny like this.

Not physically, but emotionally. Like every part of her guard has been stripped away and all that’s left is the quiet ache of needing to be held.

You kiss her temple, your voice barely a breath. “You’re okay. You did so good.”

She nods slowly, but her grip tightens, and you hear the tiniest sound escape her lips, almost a whimper. Not from pain or embarrassment, but from release. From being allowed to fall apart.

You pull the blanket higher around her and start tracing slow shapes along her spine, anchoring her with your touch. The world outside your bed could be on fire, and it wouldn’t matter.

Right now, all that exists is you and Kyung, wrapped around each other in the quiet dark.

“I feel…” she starts, then pauses, voice muffled into your collarbone. “I don’t know. Just… small.”

You kiss the top of her head.

“You don’t have to be anything with me,” you say softly. “Not tough. Not perfect. Just you.”

Her body trembles, not like before, not with desire. But with the kind of raw, quiet emotion that only surfaces when you finally let yourself feel safe.

She sighs deeply. “Thank you.”

You hold her tighter, protectively, your chin resting against her head.

“You’re mine,” you whisper. “Of course I’ll take care of you.”

And Kyung, so used to being hard, sharp, closed off, lets herself be soft. Just for tonight. Just for you.

[moontrls]

Studying... or not

Joo Yeri x Woo Kyung

[smut]

cw: thigh riding, dom/sub, nipple play, ear kissing? idk

wc: 5,053

Yeri’s dorm is too warm. Or maybe it’s just Kyung’s hoodie sticking to her skin as she stares blankly at the textbook in front of her, trying to ignore the fact that Yeri is upside down on the bed, legs hanging over the edge, humming some annoying pop song while spinning a pen between her fingers.

“You’re not even reading,” Kyung mutters, flipping another page and underlining something she’s already forgotten.

“I’m absorbing it through osmosis,” Yeri says, grinning from her upside-down view. “Let me be brilliant in peace.”

Kyung doesn’t answer. She just sighs and keeps reading, pen tapping against the paper in an uneven rhythm. She doesn’t know why she agreed to this. She studies better alone. Yeri is chaos incarnated.

But when Yeri suddenly rolls off the bed and flops down beside her on the floor, shoulder bumping Kyung’s, she doesn’t move away.

Yeri leans in, peering at her notes. “You always write so neatly. Bet your brain is alphabetized.”

Kyung snorts. “And yours is… what, a glitter bomb?”

Yeri gasps, mock-offended. “Excuse you, my brain is a curated playlist of brilliance.”

Their arms are touching now. Kyung pretends not to notice. But she can feel the heat of Yeri’s skin through the sleeve of her hoodie, and it’s getting harder to focus on the words in front of her.

“I’m trying to study,” she says flatly.

“I am studying,” Yeri replies, tilting her head so close Kyung can feel her breath on her cheek. “I’m studying you.”

Kyung’s pen slips. Just a little.

Yeri laughs under her breath, soft and satisfied.

And Kyung? She doesn’t smile. Not really. But the corner of her mouth twitches, and Yeri sees it.

Yeri won’t stop fidgeting.

First it’s a pencil poking Kyung’s arm. Then it’s a lazy foot nudging her knee. Then fingers tugging at the drawstrings of Kyung’s hoodie.

“Stop,” Kyung warns, not even looking up from her notes.

Yeri grins. “Make me.”

Kyung grits her teeth. She’s going to snap. She knows it, and worse, Yeri knows it. The girl thrives off poking at her calm like it’s some kind of game.

So when Yeri reaches out and pulls the hood over Kyung’s head with a smug little, “Cute,” that’s it.

Kyung drops her pen. “That’s it,” she mutters, standing up so fast her chair squeaks across the floor.

Yeri blinks up at her, still seated on the edge of the bed. “Uh-oh,” she says with a smile, like she’s thrilled to be in danger.

Kyung storms over, meaning to scold, maybe shove her playfully, maybe just do something, but Yeri’s hand catches her wrist mid-step, tugs-

-and Kyung stumbles forward, off-balance, and lands with a thud straight into Yeri’s lap.

Silence.

Both of them freeze.

Yeri’s hands are on Kyung’s waist. Kyung’s palms are braced against Yeri’s thighs. Her breath catches.

Yeri’s voice comes low, breath brushing against her ear. “Guess you’re the one who made me sit still after all.”

Kyung should get up. Should scowl. Should say something sharp.

But she doesn’t.

She just sits there, heart pounding, jaw tight, refusing to meet Yeri’s eyes.

Yeri hums, fingers smoothing over the hem of Kyung’s hoodie like she has every right. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not.”

“You are,” Yeri says, absolutely delighted. “You look like you might pass out.”

Kyung narrows her eyes. “You’re so-”

“What?” Yeri leans in. “Irresistible?”

And Kyung, grumpy, guarded, completely undone, whispers, “Insufferable,” right before grabbing the front of Yeri’s shirt and kissing her hard.

And just like that, Yeri stops teasing.

Because now she’s the one breathless.

It’s instant. Immediate.

Her fingers curl tighter in Yeri’s shirt like she needs something to hold on to. Yeri’s hands roam deliberately, slow and steady, settling at Kyung’s hips. She doesn’t guide, she anchors.

And Kyung… sinks.

She lets out a soft, involuntary sound against Yeri’s mouth, something breathy and broken, and that’s when it shifts.

Yeri pulls back just slightly, lips brushing Kyung’s jaw, her voice low and dangerous:

“Was that a whimper?”

Kyung stiffens. Her eyes snap open. “Shut up.”

But it’s too late. Yeri’s grinning, all teeth and thrill.

“Oh my god. Kyung. You’re actually-”

“I said shut up.”

Yeri licks her lips, leans in again, whispers right against her ear:

“Make me.”

Kyung shudders.

She doesn’t push Yeri away. She doesn't even try. She just hides her face in the crook of Yeri’s neck, too flustered to say anything, trying to breathe through it.

Yeri wraps both arms around her, smug as hell. “You get all quiet when you’re turned on. It’s so cute.”

“Yeri-ah-”

“And those little sounds you make?” Yeri’s fingers trace small circles against the small of her back. “God, you’re so easy to ruin.”

Kyung lets out another soft, shaky breath, almost a whine this time, and Yeri just laughs, low and pleased, tilting Kyung’s chin up for another kiss.

This one’s slower. Crueler. And Kyung’s still trembling when it ends.

She leans her forehead against Yeri’s. “I hate you.”

Yeri smirks. “You really, really don’t.”

Time slips. They don’t mean for it to go this far, but Yeri never really means to cross the line. She just gets close enough that Kyung forgets where it is.

The makeout turned lingering touches. Then slower. Then deeper. Kyung straddling Yeri’s lap, breathing harder, skin hot beneath too many layers. And Yeri never once takes the lead with force, she just waits.

Waits for Kyung to start tugging her own hoodie up. Waits while she hesitates at the hem of her shirt.

“Go ahead,” Yeri says softly, like it’s nothing. “You’re already halfway gone.”

And Kyung, flushed, flustered, trembling, lets it fall away.

Piece by piece. Every layer stripped not by hands but by suggestion, by heat, by the way Yeri’s eyes drag slow and heavy across her. By the way Yeri never even tries to undress herself.

By the time Kyung realizes she’s completely bare, sitting in Yeri’s lap, exposed and breathing too hard, Yeri hasn’t moved an inch.

Fully clothed. Perfectly composed.

Kyung bites her lip, arms instinctively curling around her chest. “This is unfair.”

Yeri tilts her head. “You could’ve stopped.”

Kyung doesn’t answer.

Yeri’s hand traces a line from her hip up to her ribs, barely touching. “Still so shy like this?” she whispers. “After the way you kissed me?”

Kyung lets out a tiny, broken sound. She hates that it comes out. Hates even more how Yeri smiles at it.

Yeri leans forward, lips brushing just under her jaw.

“You like this, don’t you?” she whispers. “Sitting here like this. Letting me look at you, touch you, while I don’t even lift a finger to undress.”

Kyung doesn’t speak. She can’t. Her fingers tighten in Yeri’s shirt, desperate and unsure.

“You want to disappear,” Yeri breathes, lips brushing her ear now. “But your body’s telling the truth.”

Kyung lets out a soft, choked breath and hides her face in Yeri’s neck again, just like before. But this time, she doesn’t ask her to stop.

And Yeri? She still hasn’t taken off a single thing.

Kyung’s breath trembles against Yeri’s neck, her skin warm and bare, arms clutching Yeri’s shirt like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.

Yeri holds her steady, one hand firm on Kyung’s waist, the other trailing up her back with a gentleness that makes it worse. Like she’s not just touching Kyung, she’s memorizing her.

“You’re shaking,” Yeri whispers, voice dipped in something almost reverent.

Kyung doesn’t answer. She can’t. Her body is pressed so close, too exposed, too aware of every point where they touch.

Yeri leans in, presses a soft kiss just below her ear. Then another, lower, just a breath away from her jaw. Her lips are warm and slow, leaving wet kisses that linger too long, as if she’s writing words against her skin that only Kyung can feel.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmurs against her neck. “You don’t even know, do you?”

Kyung’s breath hitches again. Her fingers curl tighter in Yeri’s shirt, her body arching ever so slightly toward the next kiss.

Yeri’s mouth finds her throat, lips open, kisses wetter now, more deliberate. She drags them across her neck, leaving trails of warmth that make Kyung shiver and press closer.

“You should see what I see when you’re like this,” Yeri continues, voice low and tender between kisses. “Breathless. Soft. Desperate.”

Kyung lets out a sound, quiet, half a whimper, and it only makes Yeri smile against her skin.

She kisses beneath her ear next, slow and damp, and whispers right into it:

“Tell me you want more.”

Kyung doesn’t say it.

But the way she tilts her head, bares her neck further, and presses even closer?

It’s answer enough.

Yeri pulls back just enough to look at her, Kyung, flushed and bare in her lap, trying so hard to hold herself together and failing miserably.

Her bangs are sticking slightly to her temple from heat. Her lips are parted, breath shallow. Her arms are still wrapped tightly around Yeri’s shirt, like if she lets go, she might fall apart completely.

Yeri brushes a few strands of hair behind Kyung’s ear, soft and slow.

“You’re so responsive,” she murmurs, watching the way Kyung’s eyes flutter at the touch.

Then she leans in again, closer than before, her lips brushing the shell of Kyung’s ear, barely a whisper of contact.

Kyung’s entire body jolts.

Yeri grins. “Thought so.”

She kisses it. Soft at first. A warm press to the edge, the curve. Then wetter, open-mouthed, slow, dragging her tongue lightly along the sensitive skin before closing her lips around the lobe and sucking gently.

Kyung makes a sound, half gasp, half moan, and buries her face in Yeri’s shoulder, shoulders trembling.

“There it is,” Yeri breathes, her voice dripping satisfaction. “Your ears give you away every time.”

She keeps going, kissing beneath the ear now, then back up, breathing against it deliberately. Her fingers slide up Kyung’s spine to cup the back of her neck, holding her steady while she kisses along the upper curve, all slow and soaking.

Kyung is trembling in her lap now, breath hot and uneven. Her thighs shift slightly where she’s straddling her, and Yeri doesn’t miss the movement.

“Sensitive everywhere, huh?” she whispers into the shell of her ear before licking it, slow and deliberate.

Kyung lets out a soft, helpless noise she probably didn’t mean to make. Her nails dig lightly into Yeri’s shoulder. It’s not resistance. It’s surrender.

Yeri’s smile turns smug again. She bites the edge of her ear, barely enough to hurt.

“Do you even know how pretty you sound?”

Kyung shakes her head against her shoulder, trying to hide.

Yeri kisses her temple next. Gentle. Adoring.

“You don’t have to,” she murmurs. “I’ll remind you.”

Kyung doesn’t even realize she’s doing it at first.

Her body moves on instinct, hips rolling in slow, needy circles against Yeri’s lap, trying to ease the pressure that’s been building and burning since the second Yeri’s mouth found her ear.

Her breathing’s ragged now. She’s flushed to the tips of her ears, arms trembling where they cling to Yeri’s shoulders. Every shift of friction only makes it worse. She presses down harder, desperate for something, anything to relieve the ache coiling low in her stomach.

Yeri exhales slowly, hands still firm at her hips, eyes heavy-lidded and locked on Kyung’s face.

“You’re grinding on me,” she says softly, almost like she’s surprised.

Kyung nods against her shoulder, ashamed and too far gone to care. “I-I can’t…”

“You can,” Yeri whispers, guiding her hips just enough to keep her moving. “You are.”

Kyung whimpers, the sound catching in her throat.

But just when she starts to find a rhythm, when her eyes flutter shut and her hips roll a little harder, Yeri stops her.

Her hands tighten at Kyung’s waist, holding her still.

Kyung gasps, pushing against her, trying to move again, but Yeri doesn’t let her.

“Not yet.”

Kyung shudders. “Please-”

Yeri leans in close again, lips brushing her ear. “You want it too fast.”

“I c-can’t take it,” Kyung breathes out, her voice wrecked.

Yeri’s tongue flicks at her earlobe. “You will.”

She loosens her grip just enough to let Kyung grind again, but slower now. Shallower. Not enough. Never enough.

And Kyung takes it. Moaning softly, hips trembling as she chases what Yeri keeps just out of reach.

“You’re so good for me,” Yeri whispers against her jaw. “So desperate. So pretty when you suffer.”

Kyung lets out a soft, broken cry, and Yeri just kisses her cheek sweetly.

“Keep going,” she murmurs. “But don’t come. Not until I say.”

Kyung’s rhythm falters again as Yeri’s hands trail upward, slow and deliberate, from her waist to the soft curve of her ribs. She pauses there, just resting her palms beneath Kyung’s chest, waiting.

Kyung tenses.

Yeri looks up at her, eyes dark and warm.

“You okay?”

Kyung nods, barely.

“Say it,” Yeri murmurs, her thumbs brushing the underside of bare skin.

“I… I’m okay,” Kyung whispers, her voice cracking around the edges.

Yeri smiles. “Good girl.”

Then her hands rise, fingers grazing over Kyung’s breasts, thumbs teasing across sensitive skin, just barely brushing her nipples. Kyung sucks in a sharp breath, back arching instinctively into the touch.

Yeri hums. “So sensitive…”

She circles her thumbs again, slower this time, watching the way Kyung’s breath stutters and her lashes flutter. Kyung bites her lip, trying to stay quiet, but she gasps when Yeri pinches gently, rolling the soft peaks between her fingers.

Kyung shivers. “Y-Yeri-”

“Too much?” Yeri whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss over her heart.

Kyung shakes her head, she’s trembling, flushed, completely undone, but she doesn’t want it to stop. Not even a little.

Yeri pulls one hand away, letting it slide down Kyung’s back, while the other keeps teasing, slow and steady.

“You feel everything, don’t you?” she whispers. “Every touch. Every kiss. Like your body was made to be worshipped.”

Kyung moans, quiet, shaky, and leans into her, lips parted, eyes fluttering shut.

Yeri leans up, brushing her mouth against Kyung’s, not quite a kiss yet.

“You’re beautiful like this,” she breathes. “Falling apart. Just for me.”

And Kyung?

She doesn’t speak.

She just nods, bare, trembling, and aching, completely at Yeri’s mercy.

Yeri’s hand slides down Kyung’s back again, slow, reassuring, possessive. The other keeps teasing at her chest, fingertips light and unrelenting until Kyung can barely sit upright, her forehead pressed to Yeri’s shoulder, lips parted with shaky gasps.

She’s trembling now. Her hips have started to move again, instinctively seeking friction, rubbing herself against the curve of Yeri’s thigh, frustrated, unsteady.

Yeri leans in close, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “You’re holding back.”

Kyung whimpers. “I-I’m trying-”

“Don’t,” Yeri whispers. “Don’t try. Just feel.”

Her hand drifts down again, palm sliding over Kyung’s bare hip, then lower, until it rests gently at her thigh. She squeezes once, then guides her down.

“Press,” Yeri breathes. “Right here.”

Kyung obeys, hips shifting, thighs spreading a little wider as she presses down harder against Yeri’s leg. Her breath stutters. A moan slips out before she can stop it.

“There it is,” Yeri whispers. “Just like that.”

Kyung grinds again, slow, desperate, riding the tension that’s been choking her for too long. Every movement sends sparks up her spine. Every time she shifts, Yeri’s hands anchor her, one on her thigh, the other cupping her breast, rolling her nipple between careful fingers.

“You’re so wet for me,” Yeri murmurs, voice like silk. “So desperate. You need this, don’t you?”

Kyung nods. She can’t lie. Not like this.

Her head falls back, body arching, chasing friction and pressure and release, but Yeri’s grip tightens again, just enough to make her slow down.

“Not too fast,” Yeri warns gently. “Feel everything. Don’t rush through me.”

Kyung sobs out a breath, helpless and wrecked, her voice breaking with every movement. Her body is burning, shaking, ruined from nothing but lips and words and the steady pulse of Yeri’s thigh between her legs.

“Take what you need, Kyung,” Yeri whispers, kissing her cheek. “But don’t forget who’s giving it to you.”

And Kyung?

She’s gone.

Completely, hopelessly gone, her body grinding slow, her mind hazy, her whole world narrowed down to the girl beneath her and the fire building deep in her core.

Kyung doesn't even realize it’s happening until it's already too late.

Her rhythm breaks, hips stuttering and pressing down with desperate force. She gasps, loud and raw, clutching Yeri’s shoulders like she's drowning, eyes squeezed shut, mouth falling open around a whimper that sounds too broken to be real.

And then she comes, sharp and hard, grinding into Yeri’s thigh like she’s unraveling from the inside out. Her whole body shudders, back arching, every nerve alight. It hits her in waves, overwhelming and unrelenting, until all she can do is cling and breathe and shake through it.

Yeri doesn’t move. Doesn’t say a word. Just watches her come apart, smirking softly, hands steady at her hips, eyes full of pride and power and something terrifyingly gentle.

When it’s over, Kyung collapses into her, chest heaving, skin flushed and damp, still trembling. Her head drops to Yeri’s shoulder, lips parted, breath hot against fabric.

Yeri strokes her hair once. Slowly.

Then she shifts her thigh, slick with Kyung’s release, and lets the wetness catch the light.

She tsks softly. “Made such a mess.”

Kyung doesn’t respond. She’s too gone. Too dazed. Too soft.

Yeri leans in, lips brushing her ear.

“Good girls clean up their messes, baby.”

Kyung stirs, barely. She lifts her head, eyes glazed, lips trembling.

Yeri takes her by the chin. “Be a good girl.”

Kyung slides down, onto her knees between Yeri’s legs, and lowers her mouth to the soaked fabric of her own sin. Hesitant at first. Then obedient.

Her tongue drags slow and warm over Yeri’s thigh, collecting what’s left of her own release, cheeks burning, breath shallow. Yeri watches with her hands buried in Kyung’s hair, sighing softly like she’s never seen anything so beautiful.

“That’s it,” she murmurs. “Sweet, messy thing.”

Kyung closes her eyes as she licks again. And again.

And Yeri smiles, tilting her head.

“Look at you,” she whispers.

“Falling apart, just to be mine.”

Kyung’s still on her knees.

Face flushed, lips wet, hair clinging to her cheek in soft, damp strands. Her eyes are unfocused, half-lidded, and glassy like she’s somewhere far away, floating in the aftermath of everything Yeri gave and everything she took.

Yeri brushes her thumb gently along Kyung’s lower lip, smearing the last traces of slick she hadn’t licked clean. Kyung shivers at the touch, exhausted, pliant.

“Open,” Yeri says softly.

Kyung doesn’t hesitate.

Her lips part slowly, eyes flicking up in silent submission as Yeri presses her thumb into her mouth, slow and deep, dragging it over her tongue.

Kyung sucks.

Her cheeks hollow slightly, tongue moving without thought, without shame. And Yeri watches, dark eyes locked onto her with something reverent and dangerous.

“There you go,” she whispers. “Just like that. So sweet when you’ve got something to hold on to.”

Kyung closes her eyes again, her lashes fluttering, mouth still working around Yeri’s thumb like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.

Yeri strokes her jaw with her other hand, thumb resting heavy on her tongue.

“Filthy little thing,” she murmurs, voice like velvet. “But look at you now. All soft. All mine.”

Kyung whimpers around the thumb in her mouth, completely gone, completely surrendered.

And Yeri?

She smiles like she just won the whole world.

Kyung’s lips are still wrapped around Yeri’s thumb, her body trembling, her breath warm and uneven as she sucks without thought. She’s gone, mind fuzzy, eyes half-lidded, resting her cheek against Yeri’s knee like it’s the only thing tethering her to the ground.

And Yeri?

Yeri watches her with slow, deliberate pleasure.

She pushes her thumb in deeper, past Kyung’s tongue, toward the back of her throat.

Kyung flinches, a soft gag catching in her chest, but she doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t even try.

Yeri strokes her cheek. “That’s it, baby. You’ll take what I give you, right?”

Kyung nods, mouth still full, moaning quietly around the intrusion.

Yeri pulls her thumb out slowly, watching the string of saliva stretch and snap as it leaves Kyung’s lips. Then she drags it across her cheek, down over her chin, smearing it gently like she’s painting with it.

“Look at you,” Yeri whispers. “All wet and needy and still begging for more.”

Kyung whines softly, thighs shifting, her knees aching on the floor, but she doesn’t move away. Her lips part again automatically, eyes wide, waiting.

Yeri smiles darkly.

“Since you’re so good with your mouth,” she murmurs, trailing her spit-slick thumb downward, over Kyung’s neck, between her breasts, over her soft, exposed stomach,

“Let’s see if you can make a mess twice for me.”

Her thumb slips lower, between Kyung’s legs, where she’s already sticky and sensitive from everything before.

Kyung chokes on a moan, her body jerking forward. “Y-Yeri-!”

“Shhh,” Yeri coos, pressing down gently. “Be still.”

She starts to rub, slow and steady, thumb teasing over her, not hard enough to satisfy, but just enough to make Kyung lose her mind all over again.

“Don’t come,” Yeri says softly, her mouth close to her ear again. “Not yet.”

Kyung gasps, body quivering, lips parted and wet, saliva on her chin, her thighs spreading wider in offering. She’s broken. Gone. Completely at Yeri’s mercy.

And Yeri?

She kisses her temple sweetly and says,

“Beg for me, baby. Show me how much you want it.”

You really said ruin her completely, huh?

Kyung’s body is shaking again, hips grinding helplessly into Yeri’s hand, every nerve raw, her moans slipping past bitten lips. She’s close. Too close. Her muscles tense like they’re begging for release, but Yeri keeps her there, hovering, twitching, on the edge.

Kyung’s mouth is open, breath ragged, soft gasps spilling out like prayers she doesn’t know how to finish.

Yeri tilts her head.

“You need something in your mouth again, don’t you?”

Kyung nods, quick and desperate.

“Use your words.”

“Please,” Kyung gasps. “I need- Yeri, please-”

Yeri slips two fingers into her mouth before she can finish the sentence.

Kyung moans around them instantly, grateful, overwhelmed, drooling. Her lips stretch around the intrusion, eyes fluttering shut as she sucks greedily, almost frantically, her thighs shaking where they spread across Yeri’s lap.

Yeri watches her with soft awe, like she’s witnessing something sacred.

“You’re so good like this,” she whispers. “So pretty when you can’t even speak.”

Kyung whimpers around her fingers. She starts to rock harder, desperate and wrecked, every thrust of her hips trembling with the pressure building inside her.

Yeri leans in close, lips against her temple.

“Come for me,” she breathes. “With my fingers in your throat. Let me feel you fall apart.”

And Kyung does.

She chokes on the moan as her orgasm rips through her, intense, blinding, her body convulsing around Yeri’s hand while her mouth stays full, drooling and gagging on her fingers, eyes rolled back in bliss.

She sobs against her, soundless and messy, her whole body shaking as she comes so hard it nearly folds her in half.

Yeri just holds her through it, fingers still in her mouth, other hand still between her thighs, lips murmuring soft praise into her hair.

“You did so well,” she says gently. “So fucking beautiful when you give in.”

Kyung collapses forward, barely conscious, still sucking weakly on Yeri’s fingers like she doesn’t know how to stop.

And Yeri?

She kisses her forehead, wipes her tears, and smiles.

“All mine now,” she whispers. “Aren’t you, baby?”

Kyung nods. Barely. Wrecked and glowing.

“Yours.”

Kyung’s body is still trembling, bare, flushed, completely spent. Her face is pressed into Yeri’s neck, her breathing soft and uneven, little whimpers escaping her lips like her body’s still trying to come down from the high.

Yeri wraps her arms around her tighter. No games. No words.

Just warmth.

She shifts carefully, guiding Kyung into her lap again, not for control this time, but comfort. Her fingers stroke through Kyung’s sweat-damp hair, slow and soothing, as she kisses the top of her head.

“You’re okay,” Yeri whispers. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Kyung doesn’t speak. She doesn’t need to.

She just melts into her, small and quiet, her hands gripping the fabric of Yeri’s shirt like she still needs something to hold on to.

Yeri keeps whispering soft things as she rocks her slightly, heart beating steady beneath Kyung’s cheek.

“Breathe, baby. Just breathe.”

“You were so good for me.”

“I’m right here.”

After a while, she reaches over to grab a blanket, wrapping it around Kyung’s shoulders like a soft shield. Her other hand gently cleans the mess from her thighs with the edge of her sleeve, gentle, unhurried, like touching something delicate.

Kyung finally lifts her head, eyes glassy and half-lidded.

Yeri cups her face. “Hey,” she murmurs. “Come back to me.”

Kyung blinks slowly, dazed. “I… I’m here.”

Yeri smiles, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips, barely there, featherlight.

“I know. You did so well.”

Kyung lays her head back down against her chest, and Yeri doesn’t let go. She just holds her. Fingers in her hair. Lips on her temple. Arms around her like a promise.

No teasing. No power play. Just love in the quiet.

“I’ve got you now,” she whispers again.

They stay like that for a long time, wrapped in the quiet, Yeri holding Kyung like she’s something sacred. Her breathing’s slowed, body no longer trembling, just soft and warm and utterly still.

Yeri brushes her fingers over the back of Kyung’s neck, then down her spine.

But eventually, she whispers gently:

“Kyungie…”

Kyung hums in response, not moving.

Yeri kisses the side of her head. “We need to get you cleaned up, baby.”

Kyung lets out a soft, sleepy whine, shaking her head into Yeri’s shoulder. “Nooo…”

“I know,” Yeri murmurs, smiling against her skin. “But I don’t want you falling asleep like this. You’ll feel gross.”

“I don’t care,” Kyung mumbles. But she doesn’t pull away when Yeri shifts beneath her.

Yeri nudges her gently. “Come on. I’ll help you.”

Kyung slowly lifts her head, face flushed and eyes dazed. She looks so small like this, so completely undone. Yeri cups her cheek and kisses her, slow and sweet.

“I’ll run the water,” she says, brushing her thumb along Kyung’s jaw. “Just sit for a second. I’ve got you.”

Kyung nods, barely. She doesn’t argue again.

Yeri stands and gently wraps the blanket tighter around her, like she’s guarding something delicate. Then she disappears into the bathroom, and soon the sound of running water echoes softly through the dorm.

When she comes back, she kneels in front of Kyung and offers her hands.

“Ready?”

Kyung looks at her like she’s everything.

“Yeah,” she whispers. “If you’re with me.”

Yeri smiles, soft and real. “Always.”

Yeri helps Kyung up slowly, her hands gentle but firm, guiding her toward the bathroom where the soft rush of water fills the air. Kyung’s body feels weak, exhausted, but still craving something, someone. She’s quiet, but Yeri knows exactly what she needs.

“I’ll be right there with you,” Yeri says softly, smiling reassuringly as she pulls off her own shirt, then her pants, standing in just her underwear. She’s still fully in control, but the look in her eyes is soft, all tenderness now.

She helps Kyung step into the shower, letting the warm water hit them both, the steam fogging up the glass. Kyung leans into her immediately, her skin still soft with the heat of their shared silence, her body needing the reassurance of Yeri’s touch.

Yeri gently washes her, hands slow and soft as she runs the soap over Kyung’s tired skin. She lathers it up and rinses it away, kissing her cheek here and there, quiet little pecks, as if she can’t get enough of her. She makes sure to wash every part of her, lingering when needed, loving the softness of Kyung’s body, the way it’s all still hers in that moment.

Kyung’s eyes are half-lidded, but her lips curl into a sleepy smile, even as she shivers under Yeri’s hands.

“You’re so careful with me,” Kyung murmurs. “I don’t want to forget this.”

Yeri tilts Kyung’s chin up, kissing her lips softly, more tenderly than before. “I’ll never let you forget. I’ll always take care of you.”

Once Kyung’s fully cleaned, Yeri leans in close, her chest pressing gently to Kyung’s, body warm and familiar. She takes her time drying her off, gently patting her skin with the towel, before guiding her toward the bed.

Kyung doesn’t want to feel distant, not anymore. She’s already too far gone. When Yeri pulls the blanket back and settles in, Kyung turns to her, eyes heavy but filled with trust.

“I want to sleep naked,” Kyung whispers, a little embarrassed, but completely sure of what she needs. “I want to feel close to you. All of me. All of you.”

Yeri looks at her for a long moment, her gaze soft, understanding, and then nods. She undresses completely, making sure to keep Kyung’s attention on her, allowing Kyung to see her in the same way she’s been seen.

Yeri pulls the covers up around them, settling in, and Kyung’s body presses against hers, skin to skin, like nothing could ever separate them again. They both breathe in the same rhythm, quiet, slow.

Yeri wraps her arm around Kyung’s waist, holding her closer than ever.

“Nothing’s going to pull us apart,” Yeri murmurs softly. “Not now, not ever.”

Kyung lets herself close her eyes, her breath steady against Yeri’s chest.

“I love you,” she whispers, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

Yeri smiles, her lips kissing the top of Kyung’s head. “I love you, too, Kyungie. Always.”

And they drift into a peaceful sleep together, wrapped in each other’s warmth, both knowing that this quiet, tender moment is theirs forever.

[moontrls]

too lazy for smth special but

minors/men dni!!

i do not write about men

requests always open but there's like a ½/10 chance I'll write because I'm lazy

underage characters also ok just no smut

i love making new moots! however, i genuinely suck at socializing pls bear w me ♡ tone tags greatly appreciated

what i've written so far ↓

kyung x yeri [smut]