#stroke technique guide

[tonycries]

P*SSY POWER!

Synopsis. Jujutsu powers are to be used only in battle? Funny.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, using their powers in bed, ratio technique, unlimited void, overstím, dúmbification, PÚSSYDRÚNK MEN, creampíes, p talking, p spánking, reverse cursed technique, MARATHONS, bIood manipulation, cúmplay, ínappropríate use of cursed techniques, cervíx kíssing, true form Sukuna, dp, SUKUNA’S SECOND MOUTH, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. PHEW I just had to…

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - SUPERHUMAN!

Toji’s powerful pounds didn’t just leave you stupid - they left you in shambles. 

Vulgar, thorough strokes where all it takes is a few handfuls before he’d already broken your creaking bedframe, your desk, your couch - and you were probably not all that far behind.

Not when Toji was still unstopping. Still not even slowing down - he needs more. 

And he’s rolling his willowing eyes with a husky tch, not even breaking a sweat when scooping up your tiredly boneless body with just a singular big, beefy arm. Scarred smirk curling, “Ya have some real cheap furniture, doll.”

“N-no I don’t-” Your barely coherent syllables aren’t as meaningful as you’d like them to be when you sounded so ruined. “You just hafta stop using your pow- ah!”

“Huh, what was that?” In mere sultry nanoseconds, he’s splaying you out unashamedly right then and there on your bedroom floor. Two engulfing palms positioning underneath your jittery thighs to throw them over his broad shoulders and bend- “Seriously- better hope I break you before I break this heh- floor.”

Before you can even open your mouth to retort, Toji’s taking all the pleasure to smear open your desperately bloated pussy lips with one prying thumb. The fat curvature of his fingerpad drawing ravenous lines up and down your bawling slit.

“Well helloooo, ma, how are ya doin’?” He’s biting down on his plump lower lip, guiding the bulky crown of his mushroomy tip to press innocent peck after peck where you were the most swelteringly hot. “Missed you these p-past…three seconds.”

“Stop teasing n’ just p-put it in, Toji–” you’re huffing out in clouded pants, dangling ankles locking around the back of Toji’s sweat-sheened neck in an effort to try and get him to do something. 

“First yer telling me ta take it fuckin’ slow, now yer begging for it-” He’s scoffing sassily, superhuman reflexes blocking the cute punches you don’t even get to think of landing on his puffed-up chest. “Seriously- ya should be more honest…like this pretty pussy o’ yours.”

And you’re just about to babble away about why he’s nodding in conversation with the saturated slurps from down below. Emanating where he was drawing leaky little hearts right on your slick-flooded entrance with the very globe of his swollen tip. Just about to.

Before you feel so full you think you’re being bludgeoned into your very lungs-

“This all you can take?” Toji’s chuckling out, but you can already see the way his handsome face beads with pearly dewdrops of perspiration. The way the edges of his sleazy smile twitch into something more simpering, more drunken. “Come on- come on come on- just one more inch.”

Blinking up at him with lashes lathered in overstimulated tears, “J-just one more?”

Well, a few more copious inches more like - but you were already too struck by the blissful massage of Toji’s bumpy veins probing into your sweetest spots to realize.

Already cockdrunk.

“Mhmm—” Toji’s nodding along, bending and jostling your body according to every whim and want. He loved how you were simply putty in his hands. Mouth watering at the lazily oozing sprinkle of cum beading out from the ends of your slit, one he can’t help but swab a few fingers along and plug into your parched mouth with a greedy plop! “S-so you jus’ sit here n’ let your ah- Toji here take care of the biiiig stretch, hm?”

Taking everything that he was giving - wanting more. You were yearning for him, and every heated fat inch of his girth bullied past your elastic ring only made your insides feel even hotter. 

Needier. 

“H-heh fuuuck yeah that’s it-” Throwing his head back, you could feel the way that every delirious ah! spilling from between your pathetically parted lips only made his rotund strawberry end twitch inside of your glutinous walls. Bumping into the excess dredges of cum sugarcoating you from just before. “-fuuuck take it l-like a good girl-”

And fuck no, Toji Fushiguro wasn’t just talk - he walked the walk and he owned it.

But it’s times like this - when your clingy walls were sticking ‘round his girthy cylindrical shaft like a soppy second skin. When your mushy pussy lips give his toned abdomen a quick mwah! Finally all inside. All surrounded by you once more.

It’s times like this when he finds his breath hitching-

Thick brows furrowing darkly, Herculean pecs hefting up and down vigorously. And if you were in any better state of mind, you’d have registered the complete n’ utter whine in Toji’s rumbling bass, “F-finally.”

SLAM!

And it’s so easy for him to let his massive palm come striking down onto your polished floor and make a crater. Barely even using a fraction of his superhuman strength, but your heavenly pussy was just driving him out of control. 

Whoops, he’s cracking a droopy eye open to gaze upon the perfect outline of each of his fingers indented permanently onto your floorboards. You really are a dangerous, dangerous-

“Oh?” That ferally cocky look on Toji’s sexy features never boded well for you or your poor cunt, and without another word he’s splaying out a few calloused fingers on top of your tummy. Huffing, “Yer close already- new record, huh, doll?”

How- how the hell did he know before you?

And at this moment you’re too far gone to even remember that Toji’s extra strength also meant extra heightened senses. 

Already feeling the tightly coiling ball building up inside your tummy when he’s reeling his slutty hips back to plant a bruising ram straight onto the bullseye of your cervix.

Hit after hit.

They’re battering.

You’re sure you’d be flying lengthy feet across your floor if it hadn’t been for one of Toji’s palms clasping onto the very top of your head and pushing you even further down all his copious inches. Feeding you with slobbering thuds gifted right into the back of your gooey pussy that you feel all the way up at your fuzzy mind.

Maw slagging open with such great difficulty to mumble, “T-Toooji- I’m-”

“Close?” He’s cutting you off, running one flirtatious thumb over the plump peak of your clit. Each and every syllable interrupted by his favorite punctuation mark - a good, vicious jackhammer of his angry cock. “Yeah yeah, I know- m’girl should be cummin’ in…three…two…one-”

Ah, right on time, Toji’s musing. Boring his half-lidded verdant eyes down at you when you’re falling apart all over his girthy length.

Spritzing geysers of your orgasm formulating a dribbling sheen all the way down to his hefty base, adhesive walls gripping around his bulk so tightly that Toji almost finds himself tutting about what a tight fuckin’ fit your pretty pussy was.

And he only gets harder - faster. Fucking you through your high until you’re crashing into more orgasms upon orgasms. 

Nails dragging red raking patterns across his heavily toned back, and he can already feel himself slowly losing his grip. 

Shaggy black bangs sticking to the tender crook of your neck once Toji lets out a gasp and lets his head loll, peeking canines digging into your heated flesh. Pistoning you with such devious thwacks and spatters of buttery pre into your most forbidden insides, the sheer force behind Toji’s heavenly gift has both of you feeling raw. 

And it’s just about all he can do right about now to look at the slight indentations on your wood-covered floors and scoff. Just in time for his blushing crownhead to dangerously twitch, “Dammit, the floor’s still not broken, ma…yet.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Target practice.

It only takes a few vulgar hits of Nanami’s thoroughly bloated cockhead into the cushy target of your g-spot before you’re rendered completely speechless. 

Utterly fucked dumb with every recoiling clash of his rounded mushroom tip, skidding along that particular geysering orifice over n’ over like he was trying to brand it with his exact circumference. 

And you can’t do anything but strain your knees further and take it-

“K-Kentooo—” You’re scrambling to burrow your nails further into the cool mahogany platform of his office table when you cum for the nth time tonight. Veins boiling, eyes sliding to the very back until they were pure ivory, splatters of saliva waterfalling never-endingly from the corners of your mouth. 

“Droolin’ again, my love?” Nanami’s cooing, engulfing palm budging upwards to smear away that overspilling lather. Clammy ends of his fat thumb pry your lips gently shut so that he can plant an innocent peck. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing- ah- nothing–” It’s a wonder you could mumble even that. Hips perking with every shockwave into an angle that might somehow help keep your sanity, might somehow have your husband’s merciless jackhammers missing- As if he would ever miss. “Just so…”

So much. Too much.

And no matter how much you’re trying to pathetically escape - it only results in you being manhandled by a gruff Nanami into every pliable position he could think of.

You feel like you could almost sob when your husband is tutting away from behind you, drawling out a long, long condensed puff of breath by your ear - before curling a hand around your throat and ramming. 

You swear you hear the crackle and pop! of cursed energy halting every atom in the air.

Blond brows knitting together at just how snug of a fit it was, “Use your ngh- big girl words, darlin’. I know you can.”

But oh, it feels like anything but with the way that Nanami was punishing you with so many heavy-handed pounds and pounds that had you whining. Babbling away, “Can’t- ngh- caaan’t-”

“Sure you can.” One more slam. Then another. And another. “You’re my clever girl, riiight?”

Your head lolls half-lucidly backwards against his broad shoulder, bumping into every ridge of his flexing muscles. Throat exposed just right for him to sink a few neat marks of his teeth. Bite after greedy bite. It makes your drunken tongue lacquer out even more stupidly thick wads of dribble before you can finally answer, “Your- your…cursed technique.”

Ah, you should’ve known that this would happen when your husband was an expert in the ratio technique out of everything. 

And, well, you did. You’d begged for it, in fact - and who was Nanami Kento to go against anything that his dear wife wished for? Whatever you wanted, you got.

Even if you found your melty mind ruined. Incoherent thoughts swirling around dizzily with every mush of his plummy, split-ended shaft right into your saccharinely sweetest spots. Such masterful motions.

“T-told you I’d be a little…rough.” Nanami’s whispering, and you can feel the deep vibrato of his chuckle against your back. Shoving you with every glissade of those sculptured pecs up and down up and down- “Don’- don’t tell me you wanna stop?”

Of course, you didn’t.

And Nanami sounded oh-so-devastated at the very idea. 

Rasping baritone tremoring with something feral…dangerous once he only hiked up one muscular thigh to leverage those powerful thrusts even more ruthlessly. Jujutsu powers pressuring your bodies and making your skin break out in goosebumps.

Like he couldn’t stop. 

Couldn’t - flexing hips out of control every time he was hitting the very backs of your candied pussy with a gummy thwack! Just that split-second of bouncy recoil enough to make Nanami hiss and sink back in ravenously for more more more-

“N-noo–” You’re gasping out once his stern mouth entraps the especially tender skin just below your ear - because with Nanami’s 7:3 powers it didn’t just mean that he knew every sweetest spot inside. He knew each and every one inside, outside, everywhere and anywhere he had to worship to drive you wild. “Jus’ feels too good th-think m’gonna cum again-”

“Awww, my pretty wife can’t heh- handle it?” Such gentle words accompanied by a rough few critical hits right into those magical spots. One. Two. Three. Pap-pap-papping away repeatedly at the velvety sponge of your walls. “S’alright, darlin’, cum.”

When you do it’s with a drawling Kentoooo that rings across his four-cornered office and his ears his favorite song. Your high nothing more than just a few tingling shockwaves that leave you breathless.

And before you can even say a word, Nanami’s shrugging off that familiar yellow tie dangling haphazardly from around his bobbing Adam’s apple. So warm and smelling of his raw masculine musk when he wordlessly tilts your pretty face and muffles you with it.

“Hngh!” You’re hiccuping, when Nanami wraps the ribbony extra fabric of his tie around one staggering hand and pulls. Arching you deliciously into an almost-perfect semi-circle against his feverishly hot front.

Tying off a cute bow at the back of your head, “Shhh sh sh- s’alright. S’alright, dear.” Nanami’s fingers work fast, but his hips are even faster. Not stuttering or slacking off for even a second when he rewards you with a few lazy probes of his veined shaft massaging into your innermost core. “Kento’s here, Kento’s here. Hold onto your Kento, m’kay?”

It’s just about all that you could do - dangling hands latching around his sweat-dampened blond locks and pulling. 

And you swear that only made him plunge in even deeper. You could count every thrumming imprint of his lightning bolted veins. You swear you could feel your knees weaken with the weight of his thick, syrupy strings of buttery pre warming up your insides. 

Only for Nanami to position his thighs directly underneath your own and push and push, fucking you until your heels were almost hanging in midair-

“Jus’ ta keep anyone from overhearin’ those beautiful noises.” He’s humming away, finally finishing up with the knot to let off one big smooch onto your lips through the muzzle. “Because now…m’not gonna go easy on ya, my love. And I plan on hitting the bullseye riiiight–” Globed end of one index straying up, up, up until he was pressing down onto your very womb. He already knew his target. ”-here”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Munchies

“Ohhh, gorgeous–” Geto’s pinkish tongue was so long swiping its way across his plumpened lips, colored with a glossy treacle of your own sappy juices. Enough of it clinging onto his pretty face that it almost makes you feel shy. “-you taste even heh- sweeter than usual. Are ya ovulating?”

You’re squirming your hips - uselessly, of course. 

Barely even able to arch your spine in even a slight degree off of Geto’s face before he’s pulling you back to sit on it with one big, beefy forearm around you’d just tried to steal away his favorite sweet treat.

“S-Sugu—”

But he’s relentless - drunk. Still eating you out through your flimsy, bunched-up mess of sheer panties with such utter greed.

Earning a hot kiss against the perked hood of your clit, twice more. Thrice. Five more times until Geto can even bear to part with a resoundingly loud smooch! “Now now, don’t tell me that pretty lil’ head of yours is fucked dumb enough ta think that you can ah- run away?”

Because the only thing meaner than Geto Suguru’s mouth was the way he made out with your cunt. In a way that no one else ever could.

Years upon years of swallowing curses always made him such an expert for when he had wrapped around his cerise lips was much…sweeter. 

Enough so that you’d caught him many, many times with his five-o’-clock shadow bleached a tawny golden because of your pussy. And he wore it like a medal of honor. 

You’re flinching at the splat! of a syrupy rivulet of saliva hitting smackdab onto the most tender parts of your slit, and the ruggedly fat part of Geto’s thumb flicks away the messy wads. Swirling around in lazy circles over and over, “Got nothin’ ta say for yourself, huh?”

“I c-can’t—” Fisting fingers rovering into the dampened roots of his long, inky locks, you only have to pull for Geto’s sharp jaw to hang slack with a barely-there mewl. “-because it feels too-”

SMACK!

“Was talkin’ to her, y’know?” He’s rolling his eyes, free set of digits curling into the rubbery orifice of your cunt and dredging out such a spraying geyser that lathers every inch of his lower face. “Isn’t that right, my girl?”

You can’t even look away, heart racing when he’s nodding and humming along as much as possible as if he was in conversation with your soaked cunt. 

Geto was ruined - eyes half-lidded and locked only down there, face veiled in a hot maidenly blush, it’s like he was on the very verge of cumming himself. 

Steady fingers lustrous and drenched with all your mess when Geto’s curling them around your sensitive nub to give a good pinch. He’s babbling away, “This turn ya on? Heh- just kidding…of course, this turns ya on.”

God, he could already feel the way something hot and melty floods his veins when your sloppy cunt only lathers in another sheeny coating of honeyed slick. Motioning in slobbering grinds up and down up and down up and down the flat plane of his roughened tastebuds.

Head thrown back, thighs burning with aching fatigue. You were milking yourself on him, and he could use this cute cunt of yours to wash out his expert mouth any day. 

Geto was in heaven. And you think you were close - very, very close. 

“Hck! Fuck—” Your maw parts into an uncontrollable oh! once Geto’s sharp button nose presses down on the soppy target of your clit. And his tongue only bullies between your folds to peak it’s way upwards, “I’m so-”

“What? Already?” He’s tugging ever-so-slightly harder at the puffed-up lips of your perfectly pouted pussy, angling even deeper. More. Slippery muscle smushing against your gummy walls and colliding repeatedly against the most tenderest spot that he could reach. “Hear that? She says- haaaah- that you’re gonna cum already. Might as well jus’ fuckin’ use me, huh.”

You’re whimpering once his jaw grinds up so far into your swivelling mounds that you think you might bruise. Extra gapingly flexible with his technique. 

A steady stream of sappy juices bubble down the slacked corners of his mouth, reaching anywhere and everywhere it could - his handsome cheekbones, his jaw, his neck-

“Oh my god-” And it’s a fucking wonder that you could even manage to formulate your spinning thoughts into coherent words. Two palms latching desperately onto his flowing tresses, your eyes latching onto him, “M’gonna- ah- Suguru, m’gonna c-”

But oh, you didn’t think that was the end of it - did you?

It never would be when he’s plopping you cleanly off of his ruthless mouth with two massive palms hoisted onto the small of your back and a sickly saccharine mwah!

Before you can even blink, you feel the delicious stretch of being split apart.

Of having Geto rip off the now-tattered remnants of your panties. Before letting his rounded, right-leaning cockhead bustle with three exact spanks to your treacly slit, sinking past your slick-flooded entrance - so hot and hefty. 

You’re being stuffed with so many inches upon bulky inches that you swear you could feel him poke into the edges of your lungs. Bloated mushroom head puffing up with greedy ounces of blood even more swollen until you can only keen. 

Grappling to fasten your nails into the cushioned padding of Geto’s generous pecs-

“Just kidding…” He’s bringing up a hand to sniff your sodden panties, and you swear there’s a raspy tremble of pure awe in Geto’s rich voice. Full lower lip being bitten at the sight of your ravaged pussy soaked and bulging around just halfway through his angrily aching length. “L-lemme stare into those pretty eyes when you hah- cum on my cock.”

You can’t help but shuffle your hips for more more more- “S-so big- fuck! Wh-what if it doesn’t fit?”

“Nuh uh, gorgeous–” Geto doesn’t know what’s louder - the waterlogged plap! of his sap-covered fingerpads gifting your stuffed hole with another thickly viscous volume of spittle, or the sound of his own heartbeat thundering. Amethyst irises so unabashedly turned into heart-eyes when he shoots you with a soft, simpering grin. And you swear the edges of his faintish scruff were already bleached copper- “-my good girl s’gonna ngh- take it.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Blood, Sweat, Tears

“C-can I please, baby-” Choso’s panting out through murked clouds of breaths, dewy mahogany eyes staring deeply up into yours. His cutely quivering lip only makes you evermore drenched, “Can we go…again?”

Oh, Choso just couldn’t get enough of you. He thinks he probably never could - not even after hours upon hours upon hours of you riding him fucking stupid like this.

Couldn’t get enough of the way your soppy walls were clinging onto his lazily softening cock with the tightest of French kisses. So warm and wet inside that he could feel your teary slit trickle down a splotchy puddle of slick and sappy cum all down his sweat-shimmered abs. 

And Choso - poor, blushing Choso - simply glazes his fingers to slip n’ slide all down the glossy load of your mess before perking his honeyed fingertips into his mouth-

Sucking - gazing drunkenly dead straight into your eyes. He was ruined. “Please- can I use…that, ma’am?”

Your fluttering cunt clenches around those probing fat veins of his, nudging his blossoming fat tip to glissade riiight across the bruised target of your pulpy g-spot. Humming, “Choso, baby, are you sure?”

Choso’s never been more sure in his entire life. 

“Ngh- yes—” Comes out the breathy slew of an answer, and Choso can’t help but let his handsome buttoned nose crinkle ever-so-slightly once numerous digits of his curl around the bulky circumference of his base. Maw falling slack when that only makes his strawberry divot overfill your goopy insides with a few more steaming hot lathers of his buttery remnants of cum. “I can- I will. N-not gonna let you ngh- down, my baby. Really wan’ just one more, p-please?”

Fuck, you loved it whenever he begged like this. 

And how could you ever say no to that face?

All that it takes for you to roll your hips a few more inches in an ever-deepening angle and nod, all that it takes for the atoms in the sickly sweet air around you to pressurize. 

Stilling your body like it was stuck in molasses before that sexy line tattooed across Choso’s fucked-out features grows-

“F-fuuuuck-” He’s groaning out, baritone timbre cracking with something pained. Desperate. And positioned deliciously on top of him like this, you could practically feel the jujutsu power Choso uses to make himself harder. 

“Will it-”

“Trust me- trust me, baby–” Spitting out through hiccuping swabs of all his staggering length inside you, “I-it’s gonna work- it- ngh- has to…need to fuck you again, baby. Need to be inside–”

It only takes a few more filthy strokes before bit by bit - inch by inch - your tautly stretched walls were being stretched to their limits once more.

“Cho-”

“Jus’ a liiittle more-” He chokes out, “-a little- harder.”

Feeling the throbbing weight of Choso’s shaft only get thicker. So swelteringly hot and girthy when he’s mazing open the gluey orifices of your drooling cunt, rounded tips of his soft digits latching onto your waist and mushing your hips in languid circles round n’ round.

It was a damn good thing that Choso’s technique was just as lecherous as he was. And you almost wondered if he could go on for days - because he was exactly pounding into you like he could.

“Shiiit, Cho-” Your head tumbles backwards with a delirious gasp! when the fleshy mounds of your hips plap! plap! plap! down with sticky stings after each and every battering ram. Nails clawing precariously onto the mountainous curve of his well-defined deltoids, “Th-think you’re even harder than you were ngh- before.”

Ah, he’s slipping out a thickly viscous few gumdrops of pre already down the slippery ends of your cervix. Toned hips jittering up so viciously into yours that you can almost spy the reddening marks formulating across his slender waist like a permanent branding.

“So- so it feels good?” He’s breathing out, like a mantra. You’re being bored at with complete and utter loving in Choso’s tear-welled eyes. “D-does my pretty baby feel gooood w’me inside?”

Tangling your fingers into the silken strands of chestnut brown plastering all over his smooth forehead, ever-perspiring with just how much Choso was focusing his energy. His power. 

You crane your spine into the perfect curvature to plant a saccharine peck right here, something that only makes him whimper. “Mhm– feel s-so good, Cho. You’re doing so well.”

“Really?” He’s blinking those teary lashes in a way that makes you coo at how adorable he was, “M’I hard enough? The blood manipulation is- good?”

“More than hngh- good, baby–” Chuckling at the way that every word only makes his rounded, cum-filled balls thwack! up into you even more riotously. Tight globes of fat squeezing so solidly that Choso has to suck on your blemished lips to even keep his fucking sanity. But that never stopped you. “I love it.” 

Fuck- fuck.

What you certainly didn’t expect was for that little comment to have Choso’s entire Herculean body stiffening, his eyes twinkling with bulbously pearly tears of overstimulation. Sprinkles of sheeny drool sloshing out of the pouty corners of his lips when he’s letting his hang open with a cry of, “N-nooo- wait-”

You’re intertwining your hands with his and it makes his heart race, damn near sending him over the edge. But what really does it are your next words, “I love you, Choso.”

Bumping spheroid of his bloated mushroom cockhead curving up right into the knocking entrance of your womb before he’s heaving. Hunching. 

Before he can only cum-

“Wh-why are you s-soooo–” Choso’s letting his coral pink lips pull back into something that looks almost as feral as a snarl. Is as feral as a snarl. Lolling head faltering into the tender crook of your neck, you almost flinch at just how steamily warm the feverish blush on his cheeks were. Accompanied by the drizzle of something wet n’ warm that you’re sure were delicate tears, “-why do you- d-do this t’me.”

And the abuse of his blood manipulation only made Choso’s tipping point even higher. 

Such massive torrents of cum already flooding into the bottom of your slobbery pussy until you were much, much more than completely filled till and past your puffed-up pussy lips. 

“L-love you-” He’s hissing at the extra sensitivity, sparks of white and heaven and you exploding with bliss behind his scrunched eye-lids. “Love you love you- ngh-”

Choso’s basically melting into you, bulging biceps wrapping around your body so tightly you could count every copious bump and flex of his muscles. You were so stuffed that you felt fit to burst, and Choso’s only managing out husky breaths watching the goblets of creamy ribbons paint rings upon rings around his seething red cock. 

Almost as if on autopilot when he dips down one hand to smear across the decorative slather of ivory white, popping it with a wet fwop! into his greedy mouth. He couldn’t help it.

And by the bolting voltage of jujutsu busting in the heady air, and the rugged twitch of Choso’s treacly-topped head - you already knew what he was about to ask next.

“Baby…just one more?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - BOAF?

“Both? Both?” And despite just how sleazily mocking Ryomen Sukuna’s smirk was, you could hear the way his rumbling bass lilted at the end. Octaves higher. You could feel the tight swell of his breeder balls perk up against your drooling pussy at those particular words, “Keh…so the lil’ human wants both, huh?”

And oh, your sickly saccharine mind had no idea how he was so agile even when towering well above seven feet. 

So staggeringly large - with four big, beefy arms, and two angrily swollen cocks that were more than matching. A monstrous second mouth slashed across about halfway down his incredibly toned abs, drooling and licking its greedy lips just at the heavenly sight of you.

So big. 

So…extra. 

Sukuna was made to ruin you.

Rendering you dizzy already when he flips your positions to splay-out like such a slut underneath you on the king-sized bed. The king of curses giving you power over him. 

The only one he would give it to - not that he would admit it, of course.

Pastel pink hair crowning out like a halo on the decadent silken sheets, Sukuna’s jerking his handsome chin at you like a challenge. One thick brow raising, “So?” Barely even giving you the time to register being letting off a solid spank on the rounded curve of your ass, “Fuckin’ show her t’me.”

“S-so mean…” you’re grumbling, though it’s more to hide the steaming burn of your cheeks when you’re jostling your knees to strain around his waist even further. To show him exactly the heated core he wanted.

Shit, if this was anyone but Ryomen Sukuna then he thinks he could’ve fucking cum from just this. 

The sight of your pretty pussy all puckered and ready to give his cock a big smooch, your swollen folds positively trickling with a neverending rivulet of sticky sap.

He can’t help but drag out a few thickened fingerpads along your syrupy slit, the sharpened textures of his elongated nails making you whimper. 

“Phewww- what a slutty pussy.” Sukuna grins - grins at the way you’re squirming and twitching all on top of him. How cute. “Now, stretch her wiiide open f’me, brat. Lemme see if she can really take heh- both.”

You can see the way that Sukuna’s strawberry-red divots start bawling the very moment you’re plunging in a few trembling fingers past your flooded entrance to present just how badly you wanted him - both of him. Warm, streaming dredges of creamy pre forming a slippy cap on both mushroomed tips. 

Ones that drag slowly between your soppingly wet lips when Sukuna curls a singular hand around his bulky bases, messy and painting your pretty pussy soaked. And another hand to latch onto his favorite spot at your waist.

“Hmmm, fine-” There’s something dark in his hiccuped words, something that makes your toes curl at the way that Sukuna’s boring up at you with devilishly red eyes. “You’ve proven yourself- heh- now ride me, woman.”

You didn’t know who wanted your sloppy pussy to take up every one of Sukuna’s inches more - you or him. 

Because you’re only letting your snug ring of muscle slip n’ slide a drenched trailway only about half an inch down Sukuna’s cylindrical girths before he’s doubling over with a gasp. Before he’s choking out a shaken, “Oh- Ohhhh shit s’tight-”

You’re flinching at the sloshing pool of something so sweltering hot that weighs down your drooly entrance - thick, ribbony spurts of what you thought was precum. What you thought.

But a singular sneaking glance downwards made your heart stutter, a fucked-out little smile of smug satisfaction breaking out across your features when you’re spotting those voluminous ounces of creamy white. Pulpy goblets of white that seep down into a settled ring at the dual bases of Sukuna’s achy lengths. 

You’re breathing out in disbelief, “Did- did you-”

“Shut the fuck up.” Sukuna snarls, elongated canines beared from both sagging maws before his secondary tongue lolls out and slurps up every stringy wad of cum with a deafening squelch. Pushing and pulling to alternate between letting it sliiiide all down his throat and fucking it back into your leaky hole.

So nasty - tasting himself. Tasting you. 

How you loved his cursed body.

You can only gape as he plants numerous other spanks onto the fleshy mounds of your ass with a sharp thwack! thwack! thwack!

“Shut up and-” And you can’t help but ogle the way every perfectly defined muscle on Sukuna’s Herculean body flexes when he jerks his hips and bucks. “-and- t-take it- all- ride me.”

“Kunaaaa–” You’re still feeling the swashing splotches of seed trickle out from you with every one of Sukuna’s dabbing thrusts just to fit inside. More and more - he always came so much. But with two cocks? It was double the torrential waves taking over your steaming insides. “-s’okay to cum earli-”

But, oh, whatever Sukuna wanted - he got. And right now all he wanted was for you to shut that pretty lil’ mouth of yours.

Manifesting his cursed mouth onto one of his free palms before covering the lower half of your face and making out with you. Swabbing the lustrous muscle into the heated cavern of your mouth, you can only gurgle and suck-

“Remember yer talkin’ to yer king, ya puny thing-” Letting him lick up spattered excesses of spittle bubbling from the drunken corners of your mouth with each inch after incredible inch that you were milking. “Shut up and- ride me. Milk me.” More. More. Until you felt like the bustling stretch of your adhesive-like walls would end up with you exploding. “-so ya better be a good fuckin’ girl f’me. And if ya are…”

Sukuna’s tone was just dripping with barely-held back desperation, words tight. Deep.

And the only thing deeper was just how thoroughly inside he was rummaging your gooey channel, pressing an innocent peck against the pulpy exterior of your cervix with a heaving ram. 

Battered and bruised over and over when he sinks in-

“O-oh–” Sukuna’s ravaged lips fall open ever-so-slightly, delicate wires of saliva formulating and snapping from his own mouth now. Brows furrowing, he huffs out a sudden gasp at the sight before him, “If- if ya- ohhhh–” 

But, shit, he was so fucking pussydrunk now.

From the way your slobbering cunt was taking up all of him - he didn’t even think it would be possible. But you always did manage to surprise him. 

Your bulging cunt stretched widely agape around the gleaming lengths of his thickened cocks, all the way until your perked clit was bumping into his wildly tufted happy trail. Slowly glittering a sappy little snailtrail where he was buried until his rotund hilts, a treacly coating of your slick sticking his hefty balls againsts your ass.

And Sukuna’s in heaven - utterly on cloud nine when he rolls his powerful hips upwards with a ringing pap! Shovelling all the way until your rubbery hole was just kissing his ruby red cockheads goodbye, and all the way back-

“S-since you’re my ngh- good girl-” He’s letting his palm part with your lips with a sopping mwah! waterfalling volumes of spittle following right after. “-you should hah- know that…”

Pound after pound. 

He only needed one hand to move you up and down those thirteen-inch shafts like his own personal ragdoll. Another two more to guide them in making sure they poke and probe every one of your most tender spots.

And his final one? Rovering your hands upwards to squeeze one of Sukuna’s generous pecs. So large and cushiony. He’s snickering out, “-that if you squeeze hard ‘nough, you can get milk.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - I lose control.

“I-is this really okay…” Ino’s voice wobbles so cutely - so pathetically that he’s forced to sink his teeth into his peachy lower lip. “-don’t wanna lose-”

“But I want you to, baby—” Your cooing tone is enough to make Ino’s blushing fat head pump out a steaming hot mess of velvety pre between your inner thighs. Thick and sticky. And he lets you - encourages you - to do as you please when your greedy fingertips lather in the slippery puddles of translucent ribbons.

Eyes half-lidded and glossed over with such primal need, a bright burning blush overtakes his cheeks. Maw falling parted when you’re popping your soppingly wet digits inside his mouth. 

He sucks on them like his favorite gummy candy, looking right into your eyes whilst hanging onto every single syllable of yours. “I want you to lose control.”

Oh. 

Oh.

And you never realized that it would mean this-

“G-gonna break you-” Ino’s hiccuping out, overstimulated globs of his tears lathering his long lashes with a fresh coating all over again when one more trembling ram past your slick-filled entrance makes your clingy channel squeeze. Makes Ino’s softened palm plant down a harsh spank right onto your drooling clit, “-fuck- fuck m’gonna break this cute cunt oh-”

Head tumbling lecherously backwards, it’s all he can do to glissade one eager thumb over those extra tender spots of your pretty pussy and work his reverse cursed technique. 

Making you flinch at the axioms and crackles of cursed energy sprinting in white-hot streams down your arched spine. Your words are oh-so-breathless, “Shit- d-didn’t know you could do ngh- this, Taku.” 

“Don’ wanna hurt my pretty girl- n-no matter how rough I get.” 

Years and years of training making your poor bedframe sing out in resonating creaks, and your cunt cry out even louder. 

Saturated squelches emanate all around and make him jut his plump lips out in a pout. Brows raising once a sneaking glance downwards between your filthy thighs shows off such a filthy mess. 

You’re getting wetter and wetter by the second, gushes of your geysering juices spraying out across his rippling abs sinfully. And Ino’s just awestruck when he throws your legs on top of his toned shoulders and bends. Into the meanest mating press ever possible. “But you’re g-getting turned on by this, huh, sweetness?”

Shit- you can’t lie. Not when Ino had his inflated length stuffed so deeply inside you, touching each and every sweetly hidden spot in a syrupy swab. So long n’ girthy that it almost had you cockdrunk already, “Y-yes…”

And the sleazy grin that smears all down his drooling lips is so sexy. Head tilting downwards at you from his best angle, “S’that so?”

Before you can even blink - before you can even register your beloved boyfriend’s response - he’s trekking his mean fingers down to press another one of his mean smacks onto your puffed-up pussy lips. And another. And another-

“My f-filthy girl–” Ino’s drawling out, grin wider than ever when his rounded fingerpads pinch around your plump clit and buzz. Flickering with spasms of vibrating jujutsu that make you squeal, “-wan’ me to go…rougher?”

You’re nodding - nodding and nodding and nodding when that pillaging staccato grows wilder. Bumping Ino’s rounded crownhead into the fleshy parts of your cervix. Balloony curve skidding out ribbony slathers of pre across your soaked g-spot in a way that’s heavenly.

“Harder-” your fingers encircle Ino’s tender throat and squeeze. “You can do it- haaah- harder, Taku.”

“Mhm–” he’s humming, one hand guiding to your trembly wrist and helping your sultry digits tighten. Enough so that his skin burns with the crescent indents of your nails, marking. He’s shifting his hips to jostle a few bumpy veins into your softest patches, “Anything- anything for you, h-heh.”

Enough to make his hips snap! with copious thundering hits that tenderize your melty insides. So many, many times - so harsh that it has Ino’s slender waist reddening. Bruising with every pap! against yours-

“Ch-choke me more, pretty.” Ino’s spitting out, mouth stumbling into yours in a messy, messy French kiss that’s all teeth and lips and sheer need. “Your turn to go harder.”

And when you do, Ino doesn’t give a shit about his blossoming marks and grazes. In fact, he’s slamming! down one hand to leverage himself into an ever-deepening angle. It’s like he was spearheading open every single nook and cranny of yours - no sweet orifice left unturned. 

Ruining himself on your soppy pussy. 

Through your fucked-out heart-eyes you can already see the way cursed energy is rolling off of him in flickering bolts of lightning. Out of control. Burying his head into the crook of your neck with a keening ah! ah! ah! after every second fucking you into the sodden blankets of your bed.

Fuck, and he doesn’t even seem to notice. Smoothing his palms over your stinging mounds with even more overpowering reverse cursed technique. 

Part of him was proud at just how well and thorough he was fucking you, and that other part of him was letting his kiss-bitten lips part with a low whine at how badly he wanted all that evidence to just…stay there.

“S-swear m’gonna break you…” Ino’s mahogany brows furrow together when your gluey walls cling onto his generous girth, something powerful churning behind those droopy lids fighting to stay open. 

“Mhm–” you’re batting your lashes up at him in a way that makes him blush. Teeth glinting in the dim lighting as he snarls, and you’re chuckling as you gift him a slow kiss.

“D-don’t tease me, sweetness- swear m’gonna- haaaah- gonna make sure you don’t forget that I can’t use my ngh- reversed curse technique riiiight–” Knees shuffling apart to widen your own boneless legs, to leave a fat drag of Ino’s leaky mushroom tip in a straight line across your cervix. Slow. Solid. Knocking at your readily pliable womb- “-here.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - “Cum…dump?”

Those were the first words repeated out of Gojo Satoru’s pretty mouth tonight - and they might as well just be his last…ever. 

Because as soon as they’re spilling out into the headily warm air, Gojo can feel his slender fingers twitch at the curve of your hips. Can feel them buzz with such sheer fucking power and need-

The need to give his dear Mrs. Gojo exactly what you’ve been yearning for. 

“H-heh-” Something in Gojo’s lilting voice hitches, cracking just as his mind was right now. Hovering above you as if on autopilot, you catch the way that Gojo’s eyes flicker with something glowing. Prominent Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he gulps, “Ohh– Christmas came early, huh?”

And times like this, you can’t forget that your husband is the strongest.

Because it only takes all of two nanoseconds for you to find your perspired back laid out cozily against Gojo’s toned front in such a filthy full nelson. Your shoulders mushed up against the curvaceous mounds of his sculptured pecs, head lolling back beside his-

“T-Toru–” you’re squealing when he doesn’t give you even a word of hesitancy or warning before sinking in inch by fucking inch. Unstopping. “-did- did you just fucking teleport–?”

And it was meant as a half-joke - something to get your cottony mind off of the dizzying stretch of Gojo’s thoroughly swollen, rotund head working your glutinous walls open. Mapping in only a few inches from his neverending length before hitting the bullseye of your forbidden sweet spot and making you yelp-

So sinfully good that you almost don’t hear his breathy, rasped-out answer. “Maybe.”

“Wait- what?” You’re snapping open your weighty lids, head jostling over to sneak a glance at Gojo’s pretty features. “You don’t know if you telepor-”

But nothing could have prepared you for just how feral Gojo Satoru looked right about now. Just how gone. 

His cerulean eyes widened and crazed; leering grin plastered all over his face until you couldn’t even see his delicate dimples. Breaths coming out in pants - heaves - until your own body was being motioned up and down with his own like your very own rollercoaster. 

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” Rumbling voice so pained - it sends a shuddering bout of shivers that wrack through your entire body. Gojo’s tilting his head to nuzzle your clammy cheek, “All I know s’that the h-haaah- view is prettyyyy.” 

You startle as the dim bedroom light flicker once he plants a thundering French kiss onto your fleshy cervix with a deafening plap! Then another. And another. And another and- “And my wife? Even prettier.” 

Only a few vulgarly deep hits against the feverish depths of your cunt and Gojo was already pussydrunk.

“G-gonna be my…” Words straining out midway like he couldn’t even bear to finish his sentence, he’s rolling his hips. Hard. Fast. “The prettiest- gonna make you- make you my ah!”

You feel something drenching plat! plat! plat! the curve of your shoulder, and with a sharp jolt you’re realizing that he’s crying. 

Big, fat tears crinkling at the corners of Gojo’s hazily half-lidded eyes, streaming down right along with the honeyed wads of drool trickling from between his lips. 

“Satoru…” You’re craning over a few trembly fingers to brush over the dampened curtains of white blocking his forehead. “-are you-”

It’s only then that Gojo gasps-

Eyes flying open as if he’d been shocked by a burst of electricity the very moment your sensory pads had made mere contact with him. Bucking his hips in such a flexible degree upwards- with such staggering power that you think he’s fucking out any and every thought inside your melty mind right now.

In a flash, Gojo has your hands clutched with one of his; pressing his mouth onto your heated skin in a tender, tender kiss. Murmuring with broken vibrato, “I- I want you. I need you, Mrs. Gojo. R-really need you as my…cum…dump-”

Oh.

Fuck- this was what had him crazed. Depraved. 

“Gonna f-fuck you with ngh- unlimited void–” he’s sputtering into your ear, free hands leaving buzzing spank after spank on your perked clit. Powerful. And you swear you could feel the cursed energy on his fingertips, “-g’na be my cumdump forever then. H-hehhh forever and ever and oh!”

Gojo’s catching his delirious gaze onto where he was greedily disappearing from between your puffy lips. And with a mewl, you’re realizing that the corners of his eyes were just trailing with flickers of bright blue lightning. 

Locked on where you were pursed and poised to take every hit after hit. He leaves your slick-sheened entrance molding open even wider, and your sultry g-spots all battered and bruised. But that wasn’t what had Gojo entranced, no- 

He’s letting off a snicker, “Awww- would ya look at hah- that. Yer so close ta cumming, sweetheart.”

“H-how do you know-” You’re rambling away, only to realize that shit, this was what had Gojo bludgeoning his rounded cockhead with almost scary accuracy. This was what had your head spinning after every sticky thwack! of Gojo’s hips. “-y-you’re using your six eyes, Toru?”

“Ohhh, much more than that, my girl-” Followed with a slippery swat right onto your pulpy nub that leaves your eyes rolling to the back of your head. And Gojo’s bloated pinkish balls soaked through with another fresh wave of your sappy arousal, “M’gonna do exactly as you asked-” 

Watching and watching - Gojo’s mouth waters at that perfect picture of his cylindrical length ruining your insides. How he wished you could see just how perfectly your dewy walls were milking him.

Sighing - oh, he’s so in love. “Gonna be my- my h-heh- ohhh! Here she comes…”

And it’s just as Gojo predicted. 

Just as he saw - you’re falling apart underneath him with just a few more fat thuds right into all your favorite spots. Shooting up such heavenly bliss all throughout your veins; you’re grappling onto Gojo’s shoulders, his hair, his forearms-

“M’cumming-” Just about all that you can strangle out from your straining throat, hips jerking up and down in vicious gyrations to drag your peaks out for even longer. “Cumming- ah- m’cumming m’cumming–”

“I already know.” Gojo’s rolling his eyes - yet, you don’t see. Hell, you don’t even see the way that he’s twitching his free fingers into a hand sign that looked so familiar. “L-let’s see if the strongest fucks- e-even stronger.”

All you know is that the lights shatter. 

All you can hear is the creaking drag of furniture as they drag loosely towards where you and Gojo were ricketing the bed - as if attracted by some sort of magnetic force field. 

And the only thing you can feel is every atom in your body has been supercharged to the max. Pure energy flashing red and white behind your eyes when Gojo hooks a thumb into your elastic ringlet and makes just enough room for the sheer torrentials of cum he’s flooding you with.

“S’gonna b-be a biiig stretch, sweetheart–” He’s musing out, sweat-shimmered head tilting into yours like he could barely even manage to keep himself upright. He couldn’t. “Deep breaths- deeep breaths, m’kay? Take it allll f’me.”

You couldn’t waste a single drop.

And it was so hard to breathe when it felt like you were being filled to the very brim. Even more than that, in fact. Long, viscous-like rivers of his treacly cum being pumped into you with every needy rut.

Gojo’s slurring out wet streaks of his sobbing cock down your innermost core, frosting out such a weighty coating of seed that sloshes around like a gluey second skin. Smearing it round n’ round until you could only babble stupidly following every one of his pokes into your tenderest spots.

So much. He was cumming extra tonight, the slightest massage of your sweltering walls overworking his overstimulated mind into cumming again. And again.

And again until you were wondering how your snug cunt even had the-

“-space?” Gojo’s finishing off your thought for you. And you’re not sure if you’re prattling them out loud or whether he could read minds. You’re not sure if Gojo himself knew. “Let’s j-just say I- ahhh- used a little- ngh- unlimited void…”

Unlimited void? 

“Ngh- what- you really used unlimited void to-” you’re squealing pathetically, only to be shush-ed delicately by a reverent Gojo Satoru. His hips still jackhammering away sloppily into yours-

His cock softening - just for a split-second until he clasps a stray hand around his sap-coated base and radiates a few emissions of power. Tugging in filthy jerks until he was once more achy and rock-hard. Using reverse cursed technique on himself - then on you to make sure you don’t break any bones…yet.

Oh god, you’re not making it out of tonight alive.

“J-jus’ a little ah- experiment.” He places one lingering peck at your temple, and then another one drilling into your g-spot. “-but experiments always hafta have t-twenty-five trials, right?”

A/N. No Higgy this week, sowwy Higuruma nation <3 Hope you all have a lovely week!

Plagiarism not authorized.

[skullsbown]

—> Smut (Sevika with her purple strap :D) !MDNI!!MINORS DNI!

—————

✮₊⊹₊⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ⊹✮

Thinking about Sevika and how she’d hold you by the back of your head, pushing your face further down into the pillows, forcing your back to arch and stick your waiting ass in the air.

She’d lean down over you to whisper in your ear “Look at you..so fucking needy for me, hm?”

She’d lean back up on her knees behind you, hawking a glob of spit onto the palm of her big hand, stroking her big purple dildo to prep it. She didn’t even need lube for your aching hole, you were already so wet just at the thought of her fucking you like an animal. She let out a deep chuckle, bringing her hands up to your ass cheeks, spreading them to look at you from behind.

“So fuckin’ pretty baby..” she whispers as she looks at your drenched pussy.

She moves on hand to your hip and another to her dick, gently guiding the tip to your entrance, her gentleness doesn’t last as she shoves the length inside of your tight hole. You let out a sharp gasp “F-fuck-..unghh..”

“Feels good, huh?” She says as she starts to thrust, her thrusts were slow but deep and hard.

After allowing your hole to adjust, she’d start gripping your hips and fucking you like crazy, slamming and pounding her length into you. She was hitting all your spots. She knew when she’d fuck your pussy like this it made you into a slobbering, whiny mess, she loved it.

Your mouth was opened and the side of your face was pressed against the pillow, eyes rolled back in pleasure. Some of your drool escaped from the corner of your mouth. “Ah..ah..uh!” Was all that could come out of you.

“Fucking you so dumb..” she prided herself in her techniques, she only wished she could feel your wet hole clench around her cock.

A white ring surrounded the base of the dildo from your drenched cunt, your toes curled and your feet kicked a bit as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of your orgasm, she was always able to make you cum fast, no doubt in that.

She noticed your squirming and louder whining, so she pulled out of you and flipped you onto your back. She loved seeing your face as you succumbed to the pleasure she’d give you.

“Gonna cum for me baby?” She hummed, spreading your thighs so she could place herself between them, kneeled. She shoved her dick back inside of your fluttering hole.

“Touch yourself.” She commanded.

You moaned, your hand snaking down your stomach, then your abdomen, and then to your clit, which was swollen and throbbing from being neglected. You quickly started to rub your aching clit “F-fuuuckkkkuhhh Sevvy…unnng!” Your brain was mush. You were such a smart woman, not lacking a grain of intelligence, yet Sevika was able to reduce you to…this.

She wrapped her hand around your neck, holding it tightly but not enough to actually hurt you, she did still deeply care about your safety.

“You like that, huh?”

You nodded quickly and urgently.

“Use your words ma..” she taunted.

You jerked your hips against her strap at her words, “I-..I lu-….shit..I love it! I’m-..I’m-..!!!”

“Shhh…I know baby, don’t worry.” Sevika cooed, leaning her face down, kissing your sweaty forehead, she started to fuck you harder, grunting against your skin as she put her all into it.

“Gonna make you cum good.” She groaned.

You were a moaning mess, your hand clawed at her waist, nails digging into her soft skin as you urged her to destroy your pussy more, rubbing your clit urgently.

She huffed, lifting herself up, with her hand still on your neck, she forced you harder down on her cock, tip rubbing up against your walls.

“UHHHHHHH!!!” You moaned loudly, suddenly cumming hard, your juices gushing on her cock and her lower abdomen, gently trickling down her thighs.

She carefully watched your face, taking a mental picture like always. “Yeah..let it out.”

Your abdomen rippled and your chest heaved, your orgasm slowly riding out. Your hands fell from her waist and your clit and onto the mattress as your body went limp from being tired.

She slowed her thrusting, now grinding in slow, lazy strokes. “Did I fuck you all out pretty?” She said low.

You slowly nodded, your hazy eyes looking at her beautiful sweaty face. “So good..” you muttered.

“I know.” She grinned. She pulled out and undid her strap, lazily putting it to the side. She laid down next to you and pulled you into her arms. “You made such a mess on me.” She whispered to you.

You nuzzled your face into her warm, wet neck, placing kissing on her scarred skin. “Couldn’t help it.” You whispered back.

She chuckled softly, her fingers slowly playing with your strands. “Love you.”

“Love you more.” You said sleepily.

“I doubt it.”

✮₊⊹₊⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ⊹✮

—————

Can we tell this is my first time writing smut 😣

[hoshifighting]

— Synopsis: After a series of graffiti attacks on your bakery, you find out Jihoon is the vandal behind it, frustrated because your shop's success has outshone his grandma's bakery. — WC: 13k — WARNINGS: enemies to lovers, angst, smut, fluff, physical violence (reader hits jihoon with a mop, vandalism), jealousy, emotional conflict, fingering, blowjob, hair pulling, semi-public sex, cock riding, overwhelming, body fluids (cum), no protection, fetish elements—being painted with grafitty during sex, claiming, mention of an enormous cock on the bakery's wall.

Your arms are crossed in a tight clutch as you stare at the front door of the bakery, the black, fresh tags sprayed across the pastel walls like an ugly bruise. It’s the same crap, just a new day. The pink and white of your shop—the delicate aesthetic that drew people in—was constantly being smeared by some low-life with a spray can. Months of this, and all the cameras ever caught was a faceless guy in a black hoodie. Useless.

With a frustrated sigh, you unlock the door, pushing it open with more force than necessary. The day needed to start, vandalism or not. You open the windows, letting the fresh morning air in. At least the floors were clean, thanks to the obsessive mopping you’d done last night. That had become a habit lately, one of the few things you could control.

You grab a bowl, dumping the ingredients for cake batter in with a bit too much force. Your arm flexes as you whip the fouet through the mix, your irritation guiding every furious stroke. It’s therapeutic, in a way—until Mingyu walks in.

“Are you... trying to murder the batter?” he asks, amusement clear in his voice as he sets his stuff in the locker. “You’re about to crack the bowl in half.”

You glance up, still scowling, but the comment catches you off guard. “Shu’up, Mingyu. You would be mixing like this too if someone graffitied your walls for the hundredth time.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t be so dramatic about it,” he teases, walking over to grab his apron. “It’s just a little paint. You act like the world’s ending.”

“It’s not just paint! It’s every day with this. And it’s not even good graffiti. It’s just some bullshit tags that don’t mean anything.”

Mingyu laughs, shaking his head. “I don’t know, some people might say you’re overthinking it. Maybe the artist is just misunderstood. Maybe there’s a deeper meaning.”

“‘Eat shit’ has no deeper meaning,” you deadpan, pushing the bowl to the side. “And I’ve got a cake due at 3 p.m. Can you please help me with the fondant? I need to leave on time for class.”

“Gastronomy waits for no one,” he quips, moving to help you.

You sigh, rubbing your forehead with the back of your hand. “Exactly. And if I’m late, I’m fucked. So let's get this done.”

Mingyu chuckles, but he gets to work, his hands already busy with rolling out the fondant. “You ever think of just... catching the guy yourself? Stake out the place or something?”

“Yeah, because that’s a great use of my time,” you mutter. “I’ve got school, work, and now this mystery asshole. Besides, what am I supposed to do? Sit outside all night and wait to get jumped?”

“Hey, you might scare him off with your mixing technique alone.”

You snort. “At this point, I’d rather beat him over the head with the bowl.”

— // NEXT DAY // —

You’re bent over the counter, carefully arranging the pies and cupcakes in the vitrine, when the bell above the door jingles. The sound makes you straighten up automatically, pasting on your best “welcome to my bakery” smile.

“Good morning! What can I get you today?” you ask, looking up to see Mrs. Yang, one of your more... particular customers. She smiles politely, her bag clutched in one hand, and takes her time approaching the counter.

“Good morning, dear,” she says, her voice too sweet for whatever she’s about to say next. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about... the situation outside.”

Here we go.

You nod, still smiling like your life depends on it. “Yes, we’ve been dealing with some, uh... graffiti issues lately.”

Her lips purse. “It’s quite the eyesore, don’t you think? Having that sort of thing on the storefront isn’t good for business, especially with such a nice bakery like yours. People might get the wrong impression. I wouldn’t want to bring my friends here if it continues.”

You feel Mingyu’s eyes on you from the back, wide and alarmed like he’s bracing himself for whatever smartass remark is about to leave your mouth. You can almost hear him holding his breath.

But instead of snapping, you swallow it down. Barely.

“I understand, Mrs. Yang. We’re working on getting it removed as soon as possible,” you say, your voice calm and professional, even though your brain is screaming, What the hell do you want me to do? Hand-paint the walls every night?

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll handle it,” she replies with a thin smile, “You always do such a lovely job here. I’ll have two of the lemon tarts, please.”

“Of course,” you say, grabbing the tarts and ringing her up, every muscle in your body tense as you try not to explode. “That’ll be $8.50.”

As she leaves, Mingyu sidles up behind you. “You alright? That looked painful.”

You shoot him a glare. “Shut up before I throw a tart at you.”

He just laughs. “Hey, props for not biting her head off. That’s growth.”

Your day only goes downhill from there.

An order comes in last-minute, right when you're about to head out for a cake delivery, forcing you to juggle too many tasks at once. The fondant on the cake cracks just as you’re trying to finish it, and you nearly drop the entire thing when you’re loading it into the car. By the time you deliver it, you're ten minutes late, and the client is tapping her foot like you ruined her wedding or something.

As you drive away, you notice that some idiot in the parking lot nicked the side of your car with their door. The scrape is fresh, ugly, and just another thing you don’t have time to deal with.

By the time you make it to the university, you’re on edge. Every little thing is pissing you off—the late delivery, the car, Mrs. Yang’s passive-aggressive comments replaying in your head.

You stomp into the classroom, tossing your bag on the desk as you take your seat. Your friend, Jiyeon, looks up from her notes, immediately catching the “I’m about to lose it” vibe radiating from you.

“Woah, woah... Don’t talk to me,” you say, waving her off before she even opens her mouth.

She raises her hands in mock surrender, exasperated. “Okay, okay, damn. I wasn’t even gonna say anything!”

From the corner of your eye, you catch the guy sitting next to you glancing over. He’s half-smirking, like he’s amused by your bad mood. You roll your eyes as you pull your utensils from your bag.

“The hell you lookin’ at?” you snap, not really in the mood for whatever attitude he’s giving you.

He just raises an eyebrow, unfazed. “Nothing. Chill.”

You huff, biting your tongue. “Whatever, man.”

As class starts, you try to focus on the lecture, but it feels like everything is stacking up, one annoying thing after another. You’re counting down the hours until you can get out of here and back to the bakery, where at least you can take your frustrations out on some dough.

[...]

The bakery is finally quiet. You’ve set the doughs to rest for tomorrow, turned off the colorful lights, and now it’s just you, the mop, and the hum of the radio. There’s something peaceful about the dark bakery—like it’s resting, too, after a long, chaotic day. The floor’s slick beneath the mop as you drag it in lazy strokes, the apron around your neck, always too tight, was finally off.

It’s quiet out there too. Rush hour’s over, people are strolling by in pretty scarves, leaving their cubicles for the day. Not that you’d ever want that life. That could never be you—this was your space, your bakery. You’d rather be here, mopping your own floors than stuck in some windowless office.

Even if your apron’s been digging into your neck all damn day. You rub at the sore spot, sighing, when—

Wait.

What the fuck? You squint, eyes narrowing as some guy steps right up to your bakery window, a paint can in hand. You watch in disbelief as he starts spraying. Right on your wall. Again.

You don’t even think. You just move. The front glass door slams open so hard the bell almost flies off, the aggressive clatter echoing behind you as you stomp out, mop still in hand.

“YA! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”

The guy barely turns, but it’s too late. You’re already swinging. The wooden handle of your mop cracks across his back with a satisfying thud, and he lets out this startled grunt, almost tripping over his own feet. You swing again, harder this time, and it echoes across the empty street. Even the homeless guy across the road—the one you always give leftover tarts to—jumps in his spot, startled.

“What the fuck, you asshole! You think this is funny?!” you yell, swinging the mop at him again as he ducks, letting out an “ouch” with each hit. “You keep tagging my walls, and I’m the one paying for this shit! Do you even know how much it costs to get this cleaned? Huh?!”

“Ouch, fuck! Stop, STOP!” he stammers, arms up, trying to shield himself.

You don’t stop. You’re done with this day, done with this week, done with this punk-ass artist ruining your bakery’s vibe. “You piece of shit! You’re dead! I’m gonna shove this can so far up your—”

“What the hell?!” the guy stumbles, trying to dodge your swings, but you’re relentless.

“You think you can just waltz in and spray whatever dumb shit you want? You’re gonna clean this up with your tongue, you little—”

Before you can deliver another hit, the guy turns around, and his hood falls back. Your breath catches.

“Jihoon?!”

The guy grimaces, rubbing his back where you’ve practically beat the soul out of him, but it’s definitely him. The same Jihoon you snapped at in class today, the same Jihoon you barely tolerate during group projects. The fucker who’s been defacing your bakery.

You blink, still holding the mop in a death grip. “So it was you, you fucking idiot?! You’ve been doing this the whole time?!”

He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, still smirking like this is some kind of joke. “Well... I wouldn’t say the whole time.”

“You—” You jab the mop handle at him again, making him flinch. “You’re going to clean this up. I don’t care how. Hell, you can start with your tongue if you’re so attached to your damn art.”

“Woah, woah.” He holds his hands up in surrender, backing up a step. “I didn’t think you’d take it so personally. I mean, it’s just paint.”

“Just paint?” you repeat, incredulous. “I’ve had customers complain, the city’s sent me notices, and you’re out here calling it just paint? Are you fucking insane?”

“Come on, the tags aren’t that bad.”

“Oh, no. They’re shit. Like, the worst shit I’ve ever seen,” you bite out. 

You cross your arms, staring Jihoon down as he leans awkwardly against the wall. 

“You know what? I should call the police on you.”

His eyes go wide, his posture straightening instantly. “No, no, no! Come on, don’t do that!”

You slowly pull your phone from your back pocket, waving it in front of him as you point a finger at his chest. “I think it’s about time you get what’s coming to you.”

Panic flashes across his face, and he lunges forward, trying to grab your phone, but you thrust the mop at his chest, pressing it against him to keep him at bay. “Back off!”

He stumbles back, frowning, his lips jutting out in a sulk. “I don’t wanna go to jail! I don’t wanna sleep in the cold!” His feet stomp on the ground like a child throwing a tantrum, the whole thing looking ridiculous enough that anyone watching might think this was an opening scene from The Office.

You ignore his whining and start dialing, but he won’t shut up. “Please! You can’t let me go to jail over some paint!”

“You should’ve thought about that before tagging my bakery again.” You cut him off, giving him a pointed look. “Why the hell have you been doing this? And don’t think I didn’t notice the enormous dick spray-painted on the back of my shop either.”

Jihoon stays quiet for a moment, avoiding your eyes as he shifts on his feet. His hands fidget with the hem of his sweatshirt, and you narrow your eyes, sensing something off.

“Well? Spit it out,” you demand.

He mumbles something, so low you can barely hear. 

You raise an eyebrow, stepping closer. “What?”

His face goes red, and he mutters again, “Only if... you let me try one of your tarts.”

You blink, leaning in closer. “What was that? Speak up, punk.”

Jihoon sighs, cheeks practically glowing. “I said... I want to try one of your tarts, okay?!”

For a second, you just stare at him, completely dumbfounded. Then, you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Are you serious right now?”

He nods, keeping his head down, looking smaller and more pathetic than you ever imagined he could.

“You’re telling me... you come here, paint my walls like a little delinquent, and now you want a fucking tart? You—”

You breathe in, trying to summon every ounce of patience you have left. The tarts are your best sellers—the buttery crust, fresh fruit, and creamy filling that made your bakery famous not just in the neighborhood but all over town. People raved about them, coming from across the city just to get their hands on one. Hell, students from your college made regular stops just to bring some back to class.

Your shoulders sag in exasperation, but you eventually gesture toward the door. “Fine. Get inside.”

Jihoon looks up, surprised but not daring to push his luck. You flip the lights back on, the bakery coming to life once more. Heading to the back, you grab a fresh tart from the display, muttering curses under your breath as you shout, “Which one do you want?”

“Strawberry!” he calls out.

You grab a pink plate and set the tart delicately in the center, placing it on the counter with one of your signature gold-colored forks and a neatly folded napkin. When you walk over to the table Jihoon picked, nestled in a corner, you notice him glancing around the bakery with a curious expression, taking in the space like he’s never seen it properly before.

He sits down, eyeing the tart suspiciously at first. You cross your arms and sit across from him, your foot bouncing impatiently under the table. You can’t help but suppress an inner smile—every customer had the same reaction to their first bite, and you’re secretly waiting for it.

Jihoon picks up the fork, hesitantly cutting into the tart. As soon as the buttery crust gives way, the scent of fresh strawberries and sweet cream fills the air. He takes a bite, and his eyes widen almost immediately. He chews slowly, like he’s processing the taste, his expression changing from sulky to... amazed.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs under his breath, glancing up at you, eyes wide. “This is... really good.”

You lean back, crossing your arms tighter. “Yeah. That’s what people keep saying.”

He takes another bite, and then another, clearly trying not to devour the whole thing in two seconds. His face softens, the usual smugness gone, replaced by genuine awe. He looks around the bakery again, understanding slowly sinking in. The care you put into every detail—the soft lighting, the warmth, the way the scent of fresh-baked goods fills the air. It’s no wonder other bakeries in the area couldn’t compete.

No wonder people kept coming back.

Jihoon finally looks up, sheepish but impressed. 

You shift in your seat, arms still crossed, and stare at Jihoon as he wipes his mouth with the napkin, setting it down with a quiet sigh. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his posture heavy with something unsaid.

“So… you gonna tell me why you’ve been punking my bakery?” you ask, your voice less biting than before, though the edge is still there.

Jihoon hesitates, glancing out the window for a moment like he’s trying to gather his thoughts. Finally, he sighs again. “We had a bakery, me and my grandma. It was right across the street.”

You frown, your head tilting slightly as you turn to glance outside through the window. Yeah, you remembered that place. It had that old-school charm, the kind of bakery that felt like a cozy throwback to the 60s, with its wooden benches and rustic signage. It had been there before you moved into the neighborhood. You even remembered the old lady that used to work there, always with a smile, though her hands were slow and her voice even slower. The front of the bakery had been boarded up for months now, closed and forgotten by most.

Jihoon continues, his voice lower. “Before you opened up, we did well. My grandma’s tarts were, like, the thing around here. People came from all over to buy them.” He pauses, and you see his shoulders drop slightly. “But after your tarts took off… we started losing customers. A lot of them.”

You don’t say anything, but the tension in the air thickens. You swallow, suddenly feeling an uncomfortable weight in your chest. You remember seeing them sitting outside their shop, the once-busy bakery now quiet as yours boomed with success.

“We tried to keep up,” Jihoon says, his voice a little shaky. “But no one came in anymore. People stopped buying our stuff. My grandma and I used to just sit there on the bench, watching people line up outside your place while we were lucky to sell a couple tarts.” He laughs, but it’s hollow, like he’s mocking the memory. “She’d pretend it didn’t bother her, but I knew. I knew it killed her inside.”

You feel a knot form in your stomach, guilt creeping in even though you know it wasn’t really your fault. Still, hearing it from him, the weight of their loss, makes you look down at the table, feeling suddenly small.

“What was I supposed to do?” you ask softly, the words barely escaping your mouth. “This was my dream too.”

Jihoon nods, almost like he understands, though there’s still bitterness in his tone. “I know. And it’s not like you did anything wrong. Your bakery is… well, people love it. They loved your tarts. And I guess, after a while, I just got so… mad.”

He looks down at his hands, twisting his fingers together. “We had to close the bakery. We couldn’t keep up. And I started working in the city, doing graffiti, whatever I could to make ends meet.” He shakes his head, laughing without humor again. “And when I saw people still lining up here, day after day, it just… pissed me off. So I started tagging your walls. Stupid, I know.”

You feel a lump in your throat, the weight of his words hitting you harder than you expected. You glance back out the window, seeing the boarded-up bakery in the distance, and it stirs something deep inside. His frustration, his anger… it all makes sense now.

“I didn’t understand,” Jihoon says, his voice softer now, almost defeated. “I couldn’t figure out how your tarts were better than my grandma’s. It didn’t make sense to me. We’d been here for years. How could people just forget about us?” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression sad. “But now I get it. I guess… your tarts really are better.”

The way he says it, with that empty laugh, hits you right in the chest. There’s no joy in his voice, no real acceptance, just this sad realization that his family’s legacy had been outdone by you.

You lower your gaze, feeling awful. “Jihoon…” You want to say something, anything, to ease the guilt gnawing at you, but what could you even say? You worked hard for this. It wasn’t like you meant to destroy his bakery. But it’s clear now that, in a way, you did.

“I never meant for this to happen,” you mumble, your voice quieter than you intended. “It’s not like I wanted to take business away from you guys.”

He waves it off, but his eyes don’t meet yours. “I know. It’s just how it worked out. You did what you had to do. I just… I didn’t know what else to do but get mad at you for it.”

The silence between you is thick, heavy with unsaid things. Jihoon keeps his gaze on the table, his fingers playing with the edges of the napkin, while you try to process the weight of everything he just said.

And as much as you want to feel justified—after all, you didn’t do anything wrong—there’s a part of you that can’t shake the sadness settling deep in your chest. You glance out the window again, at the closed shop across the street, and for the first time, you wonder what it must’ve been like for them, watching your bakery rise while theirs fell apart.

Jihoon’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “I don’t know… it’s dumb. You didn’t mean to screw us over. I just… I just miss the way things used to be.”

You breathe in deeply, trying to push down the growing lump in your throat. 

The silence between you two lingers, stretching out like the stillness of the night outside. You can hear the faint hum of the refrigerator behind the counter, the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall. You breathe in, thinking of something to say, and for a moment, Jihoon glances up at you, expectant. But when you close your mouth again, he looks away, fingers fidgeting with the napkin.

Finally, you place your hand on the wooden table between you, the sound of your fingers brushing the grain breaking the silence. "What kind of tarts did your grandma sell?" you ask, voice steady but curious.

Jihoon frowns, clearly taken off guard by the question. "Savory ones," he says after a beat, as if testing the waters of the conversation.

Your brow lifts in surprise. Savory tarts weren’t really your thing—you specialized in the sweet stuff. "Savory?" you lean in a bit, curiosity piqued. "Like what?"

Jihoon seems to hesitate, unsure of where you’re going with this, but then he starts listing them off, voice soft at first but growing stronger. "Palm heart or olives, ham, and cheese, sometimes we’d do quiches with bacon and caramelized onions, even some seasonal ones with pumpkin or sweet potato… Stuff like that."

You sit back, letting the list of flavors settle in your mind, gears turning. You’d never considered offering savory tarts before—your bakery was known for its sweets. But maybe that was part of the problem. There was a whole side of the tart game you hadn’t even touched.

"You think you could make some of those flavors and bring them tomorrow?" you ask, your tone casual as you rest your chin in your hand.

Jihoon frowns deeper, confused, his head tilting to the side. "Yeah, I think so. Why?"

You chew your lip for a second, glancing around your bakery, imagining it filled with the rich, hearty smells of savory tarts instead of the usual sugar and cream. "I was thinking maybe we could try something… an experiment," you say, eyes lighting up as you lean forward. "You bring the savory ones, I’ll sell them in the display, right alongside the sweet ones. See how people like them."

Jihoon blinks at you, processing your words, and for a moment, you see a flicker of disbelief in his eyes, like he can’t quite wrap his head around what you’re suggesting. "You… you wanna sell my grandma’s tarts here?"

You nod, the idea already snowballing in your mind. "Yeah, why not? People around here are crazy for the sweets, but maybe they’ve just never had the chance to try something savory. And you know I don’t do that kind of thing, so… it’d be different." You pause, watching his face, which is slowly starting to shift from confusion to something brighter. "We’ll call it a collab or something. Give them a taste of what your bakery used to offer."

His eyes light up, sparkling with excitement as the idea sinks in. The hesitation that was there before vanishes, replaced with genuine enthusiasm. "Really?" He leans forward, hands gripping the edge of the table. "You think… people would like them?"

"If they’re as good as you say they are," you grin, tapping your fingers on the table, "then yeah, I think they will."

Jihoon’s face softens, and for the first time tonight, a real smile spreads across his lips. It’s small at first, but there’s something genuine and almost childlike about it, like you just handed him a lifeline he wasn’t expecting. "They’re really, really good," he says earnestly, nodding. "My grandma used to get people coming back for them all the time. They were, like, her specialty."

"Then bring enough for tomorrow," you say, feeling a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth despite yourself. "We’ll put them out, see what happens. Maybe it’ll bring some of her old customers back."

He looks at you like you’ve just flipped the entire script on him. The guy who’d been tagging your bakery out of spite now suddenly has a shot at redemption, and it’s written all over his face. You can see the wheels turning in his head, his excitement barely contained.

"How many do you need?" he asks, voice filled with an eagerness you hadn’t seen in him before.

You pause, thinking for a second. "Start small—maybe a couple dozen to test the waters. If they sell out, we’ll know we’re onto something."

Jihoon nods rapidly, his excitement bubbling over. "I can do that. I can bring, like, the spinach and feta ones. Those were super popular. And maybe the mushroom ones too. People loved those." He’s rambling now, his hands gesturing wildly as he talks. "You think they’ll like them? I mean, people around here are kinda obsessed with sweet stuff, but these… these are different."

You laugh softly, watching him get more and more animated. "I think if they’re as good as you say, people are gonna be lining up for them. And who knows? Maybe savory tarts will be the next big thing."

Jihoon sits back, grinning like he can’t believe this is real. "I can’t believe you’re actually doing this." His eyes flicker over the bakery, taking in the pink and white décor, the polished countertops, the faint smell of sugar still lingering in the air. "I thought you’d just tell me to fuck off, honestly."

You shrug, smiling slightly. "Well, I did wanna hit you with a mop earlier. But… I don’t know. It seems like the least I can do after everything."

He stares at you, his grin softening into something more serious, more genuine. "Thanks," he says quietly, and you can tell that he means it. "I… I really judged you wrong."

You wave him off, but inside, there’s a warmth spreading, something that feels almost like… relief? Like maybe this little experiment could be more than just business—it could be a way to right some wrongs.

"Just bring your best game tomorrow," you say, standing up from the table. "If your grandma’s tarts are half as good as you say, I’m sure people will love them."

Jihoon stands too, still grinning like a kid on Christmas. "Oh, they will. Trust me." His eyes sparkle with that confidence again, and for the first time, it feels like you’re seeing the real him, not the guy who’s been tagging your bakery out of anger.

As you walk him to the door, you glance back at the kitchen, already imagining the savory tarts lining the shelves next to your usual sweets. This could be something big, something new—something that might even help mend the bridge between you two.

Jihoon pauses at the door, turning back to you with a grin. "Tomorrow, then. You won’t regret this."

The next morning, Jihoon arrives at your bakery with a box, the warmth of the tarts and quiches radiating from inside. You grin as you lift the lid, the smellof the buttery crust wafting out. Carefully, you place them in the display, arranging them neatly beside your sweets.

Jihoon moves towards the door without saying a word, but before he can leave, you raise your voice, “Where are you going?”

He pauses and steps back in, bending down to pick up a bucket of paint remover and a brush from outside. “Gonna get rid of the mess,” he says with a shrug, shaking the supplies in his hand.

You scoff, leaning against the counter. “Looks like hitting you with the mop actually worked.” You raise an eyebrow, arms crossed.

He freezes, his eyes widening a little, like he just remembered something. “Hey! You!” he protests, gesturing to his back. “I’m my back its black and blue thanks to you! My back its ruined.”

You roll your eyes, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Serves you right,” you shoot back, and Jihoon huffs, but there’s a playful glint in his eyes as he heads outside to scrub off the tags.

As the morning rush starts, a couple of your regulars approach the counter, eyeing the new items. One of them, Mrs. Park, furrows her brow. "What’s all this?" she asks, nodding to the savory tarts.

You flash her a smile, "We’re doing a little collab with Jihoon’s family bakery. They used to sell these savory tarts, and we thought we'd give them a try here. You should taste them, they’re amazing."

Mrs. Park raises an eyebrow but picks up one of the tarts anyway. Within minutes, word spreads, and before you know it, the dozen savory tarts you put out are gone—people even leaving with extras for home. You lean against the counter, watching the buzz, satisfaction building in your chest.

As the rush dies down, you step outside where Jihoon is wiping down the wall, now tag-free. You smirk. "Sold everything," you say, watching his reaction.

His eyebrows shoot up, eyes wide. “Really?!”

You nod. “Yeah, they went faster than I thought. Even Mingyu couldn’t keep his hands off them,” you say, pointing through the window where Mingyu is, mid-bite, munching happily on a tart behind the counter.

Jihoon laughs, shaking his head as he looks at Mingyu, then back at you. "I’ve got more ready at my grandma’s place. I can go grab them now."

"Do it," you say with a grin, waving him off. “Bring a lot. I don’t think these’ll last long.”

An hour later, Jihoon returns, but this time he’s not alone. His grandma, the sweet old lady you remember from the bakery across the street, is with him. You light up when you see her.

"Mrs. Lee!" you greet her warmly. 

She smiles, her eyes crinkling as she gives you a gentle hug. "You’ve done so well with this place," she says, looking around the bakery.

As you help unload the box of fresh tarts, you see Mingyu’s eyes widen as he watches you set them out again, his mouth practically watering. He reaches for one, but you swat his hand away.

"Those are to sell," you scold playfully, but before you can follow up, Mrs. Lee reaches up and pats Mingyu on the head.

"Eat, eat, you’re a big boy. You need it," she says, and Mingyu, towering over her, grins sheepishly as he lowers his head.

"Yes, ma’am," he says with a boyish smile, clearly charmed.

With the tarts restocked, the afternoon turns out to be just as busy as the morning. People are coming in and out, curious about the new savory options, and before you know it, they’re sold out again.

After the rush dies down and the shift ends, you pull out the cash notes, counting how much you’ve made for the day. You walk over to Jihoon, handing him a stack of money.

"Here, this is how much we sold, minus the cost of ingredients," you say, but Jihoon waves his hand, shaking his head.

"Nah, don’t do that," he says, clearly uncomfortable. "It’s your bakery. I’m just helping out."

You raise an eyebrow, folding your arms. "You think I’m not gonna pay you for your grandma’s recipes? Don’t be stupid."

He fidgets, glancing down. “I don’t deserve it,” he mumbles, but you cut him off.

"Come on. You think of reopening your grandma’s bakery again?"

He hesitates, then nods slowly. "I’ve been thinking about it. But there’s a lot to clean up, fix…"

You lean back, thinking for a moment. “Well, while you figure it out, how about you use my bakery to sell your savory stuff? We can split the profits and see how it goes. Maybe that way, you’ll get enough to fix it.”

Jihoon’s eyes widen, gratitude spreading across his face. "You… you’d let me do that?"

You shrug. "Why not? People love your stuff, and I’ve got space. Plus, this way, we both win."

His lips part, disbelief still etched on his face, but then his shoulders relax, and a small smile forms. "I don’t know what to say. Thank you."

"Don’t thank me yet," you say, grinning. "We still gotta get through tomorrow."

He laughs, the tension that had been hanging between you since the whole graffiti incident finally easing. "I guess I’ll be back here early with more tarts, then."

"Bright and early," you reply, with a playful nod. "And don’t forget to bring your grandma too. Mingyu might cry if she doesn’t show up."

Jihoon chuckles, glancing at Mingyu who’s in the back, still wiping tart crumbs from his face. "I think you’re right about that."

As Jihoon and his grandma leave, you’re left standing in your bakery, the warm glow of the lights reflecting off the now pristine windows. 

The next morning, Jihoon shows up right on time, his grandma’s small hand wrapped around his arm as they step into the bakery. There’s something heartwarming about the sight—the way she leans on him, and how he effortlessly balances the heavy box of tarts in his other hand. You catch a glimpse of the pure affection between them, the kind only grandparents seem to have for their grandkids, and it makes you feel... softer.

Jihoon flashes you a quick, almost shy smile as he sets the box on the counter, the warmth of the freshly baked tarts instantly filling the room. You move to help him, opening the glass case of the vitrine. As you lean in to arrange the tarts, his arm brushes against yours, just barely. It’s nothing, really—just a quick touch—but you bite back a smile anyway. The warmth of it, the quiet ease, feels nice. Comfortable.

Outside, the rain begins to pour, pattering against the windows. It's not the gloomy kind of rain, though—it’s the kind that makes people crave warm spaces, a place to settle into with a coffee in hand. Your bakery, with its soft yellow lighting and the sweet smell of tarts mingling in the air, feels like the perfect refuge. You can already see a few people huddling under umbrellas as they make their way inside, the little bell above the door chiming each time.

Jihoon steps back, his eyes following yours as you arrange the tarts in perfect rows. “Looks good,” he murmurs, glancing over at you.

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to sound casual, though your voice is a bit quieter than usual. You clear your throat. “Rain’s gonna bring people in. They’ll want something warm.”

Almost as if on cue, the door swings open with a gust of wet air, and your best friend stumbles inside, panting, her umbrella flung into the holder by the door. She shakes the rain off her coat and makes a beeline for the counter, eyes wide.

“I heard you’re selling savory tarts now,” she exclaims, nearly breathless.

You shoot her a look, half-amused. “Word spreads fast around here, hm?”

She leans on the counter, eyes scanning the new additions in the vitrine like she’s sizing them up. “You know me. I’ve got my ear to the ground,” she says, grinning. Her gaze shifts to Jihoon, who’s still standing behind you. “And you,” she says, her tone turning teasing, “finally decided to be useful, huh?”

Jihoon just rolls his eyes, but you can see a flicker of amusement there. “I’m useful in ways you don’t even know,” he mutters under his breath, barely loud enough for you to hear, but it makes you smirk.

Your friend raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sure,” she quips, pulling out her wallet. “Alright, give me one of those tarts. Let’s see if they’re worth the hype.”

You grab a tart—spinach and cheese, her favorite—and hand it to her on a small plate. She takes one bite, her eyes widening dramatically. “Oh my god,” she says, mouth half full. “Okay, this… this is dangerous. You can’t sell these, I’ll be here every day.”

You laugh, watching her devour the tart. Jihoon leans against the counter next to you, arms crossed, a little smug. “Told you they were good,” he murmurs.

The steady rain outside only adds to the cozy vibe, making the bakery feel like a warm little haven. More customers trickle in, shaking off their umbrellas and ordering coffees to go with the new savory tarts. Some regulars ask about the new addition, and you tell them about the collaboration with Jihoon and his grandma. It’s casual, like you’re letting them in on a little secret, and soon enough, people are lining up to try them.

As you work, you can feel Jihoon’s presence behind you, quietly helping out where he can—refilling the display, wiping down tables, clearing plates. It’s kind of funny, actually. Not long ago, this same guy was spray-painting the walls of your bakery like a punk, and now here he is, setting tarts in your vitrine, his arm brushing against yours, acting like part of the team.

Your friend finishes her tart and slides the plate back toward you, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Okay, I gotta go before I eat the whole case,” she says, shooting you a wink. She glances at Jihoon as she grabs her umbrella. “You better keep bringing these, or we’ll have problems.”

Jihoon smirks, giving her a mock salute. “I’ll keep ‘em coming.”

As she leaves, you watch the bakery fill with warmth, laughter, and the soft hum of conversations. The rain taps against the windows, the outside world grey and wet, while the inside is alive with comfort. You lean against the counter, watching Jihoon’s grandma chatting with a customer. It’s kind of perfect, in a way—everything just falling into place.

After the lunch rush, Jihoon catches your eye, his expression a little sheepish. "They’re really selling, huh?"

You smile, a little proud. "Yeah. Told you they’d be a hit."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Guess I underestimated this place."

“It’s kinda nice having you around... even if you are a pain in the ass.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes but not disagreeing. “You just like bossing me around.”

“I do,” you admit with a grin. “And you’re getting pretty good at following orders.”

Jihoon laughs, shaking his head as he picks up a rag to wipe down the counter. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll bring more tomorrow."

The evening was quiet, just the hum of the fridge and the faint swoosh of the mop gliding across the floor. You were halfway through cleaning when your foot nudged something under the counter. Frowning, you crouched down and pulled out a box—heavy, clinking inside—and when you opened it, there they were. Paint cans.

You tilted your head, staring at them, then shouted, "Jihoon! What the hell is this?"

He popped out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “Uh... well, I was thinking... maybe the bakery could use a little—art,” he said hesitantly, his eyes darting from the cans to you.

"Art?" you raised an eyebrow, hands resting on your hips. "You're not gonna draw a dick on the front door, are you? 'Cause if that's your plan, Jihoon, I swear—"

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “No! It wasn’t me, alright? That was one of my friends.”

Your eyebrow shot up even higher. "So you had your friends tag my bakery too?"

He suppressed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I yelled sorry, like, a million times already.”

You shook your head, though a small smile tugged at your lips. “Unbelievable.”

Jihoon stepped closer, eyes scanning your expression carefully. “Look, I promise—no dicks. I was thinking... something different. Something that matches the vibe here. I could paint something... that looks like you.” His gaze lingered on you, analyzing your features like he was already sketching you out in his mind.

You sat back, considering it. The idea of graffiti on your pristine bakery wasn’t exactly appealing, but there was something about Jihoon’s offer... the way he was looking at you, not like a cocky vandal but like someone who wanted to create something for you.

You frowned, arms crossed, skeptical. “You? Graffiti something that looks like me? You’re kidding.”

He shrugged, stepping back slightly. “Let me show you. I’ll do it on the back wall. Something pastel, something sweet—like your bakery.”

You huffed, but curiosity got the better of you. “Fine. But if it looks like shit, you’re cleaning it up, Jihoon.”

Outside, the air was crisp, and the dim lights of the street barely reached the back alley behind your bakery. Jihoon grabbed the cans, setting them down with a focused energy, his jaw tight. He was different when he worked on something—serious, quiet. You watched as he started to shake one of the cans, the metallic rattle filling the space. 

He started to sweat after a few strokes of the spray, his arm flexing each time he pressed the nozzle. The light from the back door illuminated his face, and when he flicked his hair to the side, it reminded you of those boys from high school, the ones who all had that Justin Bieber haircut. You couldn’t help but smirk at the thought.

He stepped back, turning toward you, his eyes searching your face. “So... what do you think?”

You tilted your head, focusing on the paint. It was a pastel-colored slice of cake, detailed with delicate swirls and shadows that made it look almost real. “The... strawberry looks a little weird,” you pointed out, walking closer.

Jihoon let out a soft laugh, stepping aside. “Come help me then. You fix it.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Me? I don’t know how to spray paint, Jihoon. It’s gonna look like a five-year-old did it."

He waved it off, walking toward you with the can in hand. “Nah, you can do it. C’mere.”

Before you could protest, he was already pulling you out of the chair, placing the can in your hand. “Just like this,” he murmured, stepping behind you. His chest pressed lightly against your back, close enough that you could feel his breath on your ear. His hand moved to yours, guiding your fingers to press down on the nozzle, and the paint sprayed out in a clean line. "Here," he murmured, his voice low. "Press gently... just like that."

“See?” he whispered, his voice right in your ear, and you could feel the concentration in his breath, how calm it was. “Not so hard, is it?”

You were too aware of everything—his breath, his hand on yours, the way his body pressed just slightly against yours, not enough to feel too much, but enough to make your pulse pick up.

His hand, now on your waist, gave you the faintest squeeze, right where your skin showed between your top and your jeans, right where your shirt had ridden up a little. It was an absent touch, almost like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. But you did. His fingers were warm, the pressure light but there. Your breath caught in your throat for a second.

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. His hand never moved, just stayed resting on your waist, a quiet but steady reminder of how close he was. The paint kept flowing, and you realized you were barely focused on the mural anymore. It was all Jihoon. The way his body moved with yours, the brush of his breath against your ear.

“Jihoon,” you whispered, voice low, just to see what kind of reaction you’d get. "You sure you're not just getting handsy with me to avoid doing the work?"

He huffed a small laugh, right in your ear, his breath warm. “You think this is me being handsy? I’m just trying to teach you something.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back a little more, just enough to feel him tense up. His hips were snug against yours, and you could feel the smallest reaction in his body, the way his chest rose sharply as you pressed back into him.

"Uh-huh,” you said, feigning innocence. “So that’s why you sound like you’re having the best time of your life right now? Not exactly subtle, Jihoon.”

He scoffed, his mouth so close to your ear that you flinched a bit. "Says the one who's shivering under my arm like I’m doing more than just helping you paint.”

You let out a soft chuckle, your head leaning back just a little, the movement making his face brush against your shoulder. You could feel his breath catch again as your body pressed back.

“Jihoon…” you said, voice dropping an octave. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying real hard not to moan in my ear.”

His breath hitched, and this time, you felt it. His body tensed, the can in his hand wavering slightly as he pressed the nozzle. He was trying—trying so damn hard to stay focused on the paint, but your words were getting to him. His grip tightened on the can.

He lowered your arm, stopping the spray of paint, and you could feel the tension crackling between you both. His hand lingered on yours for a moment, and then he turned his head slightly, his lips brushing the edge of your jaw as he whispered, “You keep teasing me like that, I’ll forget the painting and pin you to this wall.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the low rumble in his voice, letting your ass push against him again. You give him a slow, teasing smile, turning your head just enough to look at him out of the corner of your eye. “And if I told you I wouldn’t mind?”

Jihoon’s eyes flicked down to your lips, then back to your eyes, in a blink, he turned you around, the paint can clattering to the floor as his hand slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

His lips hovered over yours for just a second, his breath mingling with yours, tension thick in the air. “You're playing with fire, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You smirked, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the heat of him through his shirt. “Then burn me.”

His lips crashed against yours in a starved kiss, his hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you closer, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, his body pressed so close it felt like there wasn’t an inch between you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him down harder into the kiss, feeling the tension melt away from his shoulders. His hands roamed over your back, slipping under your shirt, his touch burning your skin as he kissed you deeper, rougher, like he couldn’t get enough. 

His body pressed you against the wall, his hips fitting perfectly against yours, and you could feel his cock coming to life. The slight tremor in his hands as they roamed your sides, the way his breath hitched when you kissed him harder—it was all there, barely restrained.

His lips were warm, tasting faintly like the strawberries and honey from earlier, and every time you tried to pull back for air, he chased you, his lips crashing back against yours like he couldn’t stand the space between you for even a second. 

Finally, when you both pulled away for breath, your foreheads resting together, you smirked, your breath still uneven. “You okay there, Jihoon? You look like you’re about to lose it.”

He chuckled, his hand still gripping your waist, but there was no humor in his eyes. “You talk too much,” he muttered, pulling you back in for another kiss before you could even think of another comeback.

You could feel the wetness of his tongue against yours, slick with saliva that started to pool at the corners of your mouth as you sucked it in deeper. Jihoon’s hand was firm, gripping the curve of your ass, his other arm wrapped tight around your waist as if he couldn’t let go even if he tried.

You stumbled backward in a tangle of steps, the two of you moving like you were magnetized to each other, lips fused together, completely unwilling to separate. His hand squeezed your ass hard, making you gasp into his mouth. That sound—the desperate little moan you couldn’t hold back—had him groaning too, swallowing the noise like it fueled him, pressing you harder against the door to the back of the store.

Jihoon fumbled for the handle, blindly opening it while keeping his mouth glued to yours. You barely noticed when he shoved you through the threshold, into the bakery’s quiet salon. He didn’t break the kiss, not even for a second, not until your back hit the counter and he pressed himself against you again, trapping you between him and the cold wood.

You were breathless, desperate to kiss him harder, to get more of those sweet, low moans he made when your lips connected just right. It wasn’t until you felt his hand slipping between you that you realized what he was doing. Somehow, in the heat of it all, he had already undone your jeans, his fingers deftly sliding the button free, his hand dipping lower, teasing the waistband of your panties.

"Fuck, Jihoon," you panted, head thrown back as his lips trailed along your jaw. You shivered when you felt his hand slipping under the lace, fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin. You felt your sink boiling, the warm air from the bakery making you sweat down your neck. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmured, more like moaning. 

The jeans you still had on were tight, too tight, and it made it impossible for you to spread your legs the way you wanted. The friction of his hand between you was good, but not nearly enough.

You shifted against him, trying to spread your legs wider, your breath coming out in frustrated little pants. "Jihoon," you managed, voice almost pleading, "jeans... get them off."

His lips curled into a smug grin against your skin, and you could feel him smirk before he pulled back slightly. "So bossy," he murmured, but he didn’t hesitate. His hands went straight to your jeans, tugging them down with quick, rough movements, the denim catching awkwardly on your thighs before he yanked them free.

With your jeans finally gone, he spread your legs wide, his eyes dark and hungry as they trailed over you. His hands gripped your thighs, positioning you exactly how he wanted before slipping his fingers right back under the waistband of your panties, but this time, there was no hesitation.

He slid one finger through your slick folds, groaning low when he felt how wet you were for him. "God, you're soaked," he breathed, almost like he was in disbelief. His thumb found your clit, rubbing slow circles that had your hips bucking against his hand, desperate for more.

You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your lips. "Just... please, Jihoon—more."

He slid a finger inside you, the sensation making you gasp, your legs instinctively spreading wider for him. You wanted more of him, needed it, and when he curled his finger just right—not even forcing it, he felt the spongy spot, you couldn’t stop the moan that tore from your throat.

"Like that?" he whispered, voice hoarse as he added another finger, filling you up and making your whole body arch into him. His other hand gripped your thigh, holding you steady as he worked his fingers inside you, each thrust deeper, more insistent.

"Fuck, yes," you gasped, barely able to form words as he sped up, his thumb still rubbing circles over your clit, making you see fireballs with closed eyes. "Just... just like that."

His hand moved faster, fingers curling and stroking deep inside you, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the quiet room. Your hips bucked against him, chasing the sensation, wanting him to take you higher, needing him to push you over the edge.

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear, his breath hot as he whispered, "I could do this all night... but I think you want me to make you come, don’t you?"

You whimpered. "Please, Jihoon," you breathed, voice shaky. "I need it."

His fingers quickened their pace, thrusting deep, hitting that spot over and over until your whole body trembled. He could feel how close you were, could see it in the way your thighs quivered, the way your breath came in short, desperate gasps.

"Cum for me," he murmured, thumb pressing harder against your clit, feeling the nerve throb as his fingers worked inside you. "Cum all over my fingers."

You rest your elbow on the counter, arching your back in a way that makes the slick sound between your thighs almost obscene. It’s impossible to ignore. You know exactly how wet you are, and palm, right there pressing down the mound of your pussy—god, you can feel it, burning hot. Your breath hitches, and you throw a hazy glance in his direction, catching his smirk, that cocky look on his face. His lip is trapped between his teeth, eyes dark and full of heat, and that’s all it takes before you come apart.

Your orgasm hits hard, ripping through you. Eyes squeezing shut, your body tenses, thighs trembling as your hips jerk involuntarily against his hand. You hear him coaxing you through it, his voice a low murmur, his fingers keeping steady pressure, coaxing every last wave of pleasure out of you.

“There you go… good fuckin' girl. Just like that, keep comin’ for me… shit, so fuckin’ good,” he mutters, fingers slowing just enough to keep you riding the high.

Your chest heaves, your breaths coming in short, ragged bursts as you slowly open your eyes again. He’s staring at you—taking in every inch of you. The smirk on his face hasn't faltered, only deepened. There’s something dangerous about the way he looks at you, like he's already planning his next move.

“You think you can turn around for me?” he asks.

You shake your head, still catching your breath, but a wicked grin spreads on your lips. “Nah. I’ll fall to my knees and suck you off instead.” Your voice is steady despite the way your legs still tremble. His eyes widen just for a second before he sharpens a breath, a harsh inhale that lets you know you’ve hit the right nerve.

You don’t give him time to respond before you’re on your knees, fingers already undoing his belt, pulling his jeans down just enough to free him. You look up through your lashes, watching his jaw tighten as his cock springs free, already hard and leaking at the tip. His breathing’s heavy, uneven.

You run your tongue along his length slowly, collecting the sticky precum, teasing the underside before wrapping your lips around the head. He moans immediately, one hand gripping the edge of the counter so tight his knuckles turn white.

“Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth, hips jerking forward as your lips slide further down his cock. The sound he makes is a whiny moan, almost of frustration as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks. You can feel the pulse of him on your tongue, the way his body reacts to every little move you make.

He grips your hair, tugging gently as you bob your head, setting a slow rhythm that has him panting. His hips start to move, barely restrained, thrusting shallowly into your mouth. “Goddamn… ngh—fuck! From hittin’ me with a mop to this?” His voice cracks on a laugh, but it’s breathless, shaky. “Didn’t think you’d… suck me off like this…”

You pull back just enough to swirl your tongue around the head, lips slick, before looking up at him, smirking. “Better than the mop, right?”

His laugh turns into a groan, the sound vibrating through his chest as you take him deep again. “Fuck yeah… way better than the fuckin' mop.” He��s losing his composure now, hips moving a little more desperately, the hand in your hair tightening, guiding you as you work him harder, faster.

His moans grow louder, less restrained, and you can feel the tension building in his body, the way his muscles tighten as he gets closer. You hollow your cheeks one last time, sucking him in deeper, tongue working every inch of him until you hear him curse under his breath, his head falling back as his body shudders.

“Shit—” His moan is drawn out, almost too much for him to handle, as he loses himself in your mouth, his hips bucking forward uncontrollably. You keep going, pushing him right to the edge, savoring every last sound he makes until he finally pulls you off, breathless and wrecked.

“Fuck... you’re gonna kill me with that pretty mouth,” he pants, grinning down at you, still catching his breath. 

You pull back for a second, lips slick with spit, catching your breath before you go back in, this time with a wicked grin. His cock twitches in your hand as you stroke him slowly, teasing, just enough to keep him on the edge.

“So…” you start, voice low, looking up at him with a dangerous gleam in your eyes. “How are you gonna fuck me, huh? Gonna be good to me, or…” You drag your tongue along the underside of his shaft, making him gasp before taking him back into your mouth, sucking harder, wanting to hear him stutter. “… or you gonna fuck me like you mean it?”

His breath hitches, and he swears under his breath. “I—fuck, I—” His hips jerking toward your mouth, but he’s not quite there. The pressure is building, you can feel it, the way his muscles tense, the way his grip in your hair tightens.

But before you can push him too far, he suddenly pulls you off with a gasp, his cock red and leaking at the tip, his body shaking from the almost-orgasm. “Stop, stop, fuck—”

You raise an eyebrow, lips swollen as you sit back on your heels, panting, teasing. “Could’ve just let me finish you off,” you murmur, licking your lips slowly as you watch him struggle to catch his breath.

He grins, though his expression is tight, like he’s holding onto control by a thread. “Not gonna let you win that easy,” he mutters. He helps you up, hands firm but delicate as he lifts you to your feet. Your knees wobble a little from the discomfort of kneeling on the hard wooden floor, and he notices, his thumb brushing gently across the soft skin.

“They hurt?” he asks, glancing down at your knees, frowning just a little.

You shake your head, smirking. “I’ll live. But you owe me a good fuck for that.”

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna make it up to you.”

You let him guide you back against the counter, his hands already sliding down to the waistband of your panties, hooking his fingers into the fabric and pulling them down tossing it on the floor. He pauses just for a second, eyes flicking between your bare pussy and your face, his breathing heavy.

He leans in close, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Gonna make you scream.”

You shiver, feeling his cock press against your thigh as his hands move to grip your waist. His fingers are rough, impatient. You can barely think straight when he turns you around, pushing your chest flat against the cold countertop. The contrast of the cool surface and his hot skin makes your breath hitch, your body already aching for him.

He groans softly, positioning himself at your entrance, teasing you with the tip of his cock, rubbing it along your slick folds as you grind back against him, impatient.

“Fuck—please, just—” You barely get the words out before he thrusts into you, filling you up completely in one swift movement. The stretch is intense, but it’s exactly what you needed, the delicious burn making you gasp as your fingers dig into the counter.

He groans, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pulls back and thrusts again, setting a relentless pace. “That good enough for you, hm?”

You can barely answer, the only sounds leaving your lips are desperate moans as he fucks into you, hard and fast, just like he promised. “F-fuck, Jihoon… yes—just like that.”

He leans down, his chest pressing against your back as his lips brush your ear. “You feel so fuckin’ good… so tight, fuck.” 

Your body trembles under his, the pleasure building so quickly that you can barely keep up. "Jihoon—" His name leaves your lips in a broken moan as you start to lose control.

Your breath is ragged, chest heaving as you lick your fingers, letting them trail down your slick body. The moment your fingers find your clit, Jihoon freezes. His cock still buried deep inside you, but it’s like he's hypnotized by the way you touch yourself. You know he’s watching, eyes dark with hunger as you start to circle your clit, finding that perfect rhythm that makes your legs weak. There’s something so intoxicating about him just watching you, letting you take control of your own pleasure while he stays inside, keeping you full.

"Fuck, that’s hot," he mutters, his voice husky and rough as he leans over you, his lips grazing your ear. "You look so fucking good like this."

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, his words fueling the fire burning low in your belly. Your mind flashes back to everything between you two, from the first time he tagged your bakery walls, scowling like you were the enemy, graffiti cans in his bag, the way he barely looked at you when he spoke. 

Now look at him, look at you—sweat-slicked bodies moving together, his fingers pulling your hair. The teasing exchanges that turned into this—tangled limbs in the very place you swore you'd kill him if he ever touched.  Now, all you can think about is how good he feels inside you, how much you crave more.

His hips start to move again, slow, smooth rolls that make your whole body tingle, but he keeps his hands steady on your hips, letting you keep that perfect rhythm on your clit. The sound of your wet fingers moving in time with his thrusts fills the room, and it’s obscene, but fuck, it’s so good.

“What do you want me to do?” he murmurs against your ear, his voice vibrating through you, sending shivers down your spine.

God. Hot. So fucking hot.

You could ask for anything. Him fucking you against every surface in the bakery, bending you over the counter, the tables, hell, maybe even hanging from the goddamn chandelier if it were possible. But right now, with the way his cock fills you and your fingers work your clit, you only want one thing.

“Pull my hair.”

His hand slides up your back, fingers tangling in your hair, and he gives it a firm tug. The sharp pleasure shoots you, and your body arches against him, hips pressing back to meet his next thrust. The way body rollsl, smooth, matches the pace you’ve set with your fingers. It’s perfect, it’s so fucking good.

His hips snap against you harder now, and you can feel his restraint slipping. He’s getting close, the way his moans get rougher, the way he’s tugging your hair a little more desperately. You know he’s just as on edge as you are.

“Jihoon…”

He moans sly. He knows exactly what he's doing to you.

You hum, breathless. Something so ridiculous comes to mind, and you can’t believe you’re going to say it, but fuck it. 

“Can you… paint me?” You’re not sure where the words come from, but once they’re out, you can’t help but smirk.

He hesitates for a second, his hips stuttering before he recovers. “What?”

You bite your lip, half-laughing through your moans. “You heard me. Paint me. Grafitti me. Whatever. Do it.”

He’s still chuckling, his chest pressed against your back as he slows down, but you can feel the horniness in the way his cock twitches inside you. He is very into it. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?”

You laugh, but it’s breathless. “You’ve been tagging my bakery for weeks. Might as well make it official.”

He groans, biting his lip as he slides out of you for a moment, leaving you feeling suddenly empty, needy. You turn your head, watching as he reaches for one of the paint cans you knocked over earlier, shaking it a few times. The sound of the metal ball rattling inside echoes through the small space, making your heart race faster.

“You sure about this?” he asks, but there’s a grin on his face, his cock still hard and wet, glistening in the dim light.

You arch your back, pushing your ass out toward him, wiggling a little for good measure. “You scared?”

He shakes his head, biting down on his lower lip. “Not even a little.”

Then, with one hand steady on your lower back, he leans in, the cold metal of the spray can grazing your skin. You hear the hiss of the paint as he presses down on the nozzle, feeling the cold spray hit your skin. It’s not the same as the heat between your legs, but it sends a thrill through your body nonetheless.

“Hold still,” he mutters, focused, but you can hear the grin in his voice. He’s enjoying this—maybe a little too much.

You laugh, a shaky sound as the paint settles on your skin, the smell of it filling the room. “What are you even writing?”

“You’ll see,” he says, voice teasing. The spray continues, and then, after a moment, he steps back. “There. Perfect.”

When he’s done, he pulls you back onto his cock all in once, making you gasp as the pleasure returns full force. “Red suits you,” he says, his voice whiny. You can feel his eyes on you, taking in the sight of you painted, fucked, completely his in this moment.

You look over your shoulder at him, breathless. “What did you write?”

He smirks, thrusting hard enough to make you cry out. “My name,” he says simply. “Right across your ass.”

The sound that leaves your throat is half-laugh, half-moan. “Cocky bastard,” you mutter, but you can’t deny how fucking hot it is, the thought of his name on you, like a claim.

He watches the paint dry quickly, the faint sheen of it on your skin as you move against him. The thought of cleaning it off flickers in his mind, but fuck, the idea of you walking around with his name stamped across your ass, hidden inside your jeans as you go about your day—a part of him wants it permanent, a tattoo maybe, to mark you in a way no one else could see but him. His. Completely.

His hand slides up your body, fingers sneaking under your shirt and bra until they’re squeezing your tit, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you yelp and splatter your hand onto the counter for balance. Your legs are shaking as his thrusts get rougher, messier, the slick sound of him filling you echoing in the quiet bakery.

You moan out his name, “Jihoonie…” and he fucking loses it. Every time you call him that, it gets to him. The way you say it, needy and teasing, like it was meant to wreck him.

He grunts in response, pulling your hair again to tilt your head back against his chest. Your eyes roll, pleasure coursing through you like fire, and your pussy clenches tight around his cock, sucking him in deeper.

You try to hold yourself up, but your legs are jelly, barely able to stand. “I’m gonna… fuck, Jihoon,” you gasp, your body trembling. You’re on the edge, the pleasure coiling tight in your belly, ready to snap at any second.

He pulls you back harder, his chest flush against your back, his mouth right at your ear as he growls, “Cum for me, baby. Fuckin’ do it. I wanna feel you.”

His words, the rough sound of his voice, the way he’s completely owning you—it pushes you over the edge. You shatter around him, your body convulsing as your orgasm slams into you. Your pussy clenches tight, milking his cock, and you scream his name, your voice echoing through the empty bakery.

He groans deep in his chest, thrusting through your orgasm, chasing his own orgasm. The way you squeeze him, the way you moan and tremble in his arms, it’s too much. He pulls out at the last second, just barely, his hand jerking his cock as he cums, thick ropes spilling onto your ass, painting over his name in red.

You’re a mess, both of you—paint, cum, sweat sticking to your skin—but you can’t bring yourself to care.

His hand slides gently down your back, soothing the tremors that still ripple through your body. “Fuck,” he mutters, voice still shaky. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck, completely different from how rough he was just moments ago.

You breathe out a laugh, still catching your breath. “Think we’re gonna need more than a mop to clean this up.”

Jihoon chuckles, pulling back slightly to admire the mess he made. “Yeah,” he says, “But I gotta say… seeing you with my name on your ass? Kinda want it permanent.”

You tilt your head back to look at him, a lazy smirk on your lips. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

His smirk matches yours as he tugs you closer, his hands still resting on your hips. “Maybe,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against yours. “Maybe more than I should.”

Jihoon sulks, his face twisted in irritation as he presses the paper towel against your ass, muttering under his breath about how he ruined it. You can hear him grumbling, the cum smudging the once-clear letters of his graffiti like some kind of art project gone wrong. He’s so focused on trying to clean it up, but all he’s doing is making a bigger mess, the red paint mixing with the white streaks, swirling into a chaotic, almost laughable design.

You, on the other hand, can’t stop the grin that spreads across your face. The whole situation is just too ridiculous—the great Woozi, all serious and brooding, now pouting like a kid who messed up his school project. You rest your arms on the counter, the cool surface grounding you after everything, and glance over your shoulder, still half-naked from the waist down, shaking your head.

“Hey,” you snicker, pushing up onto the counter, bare skin still tingling from what just went down, “come on, take a picture for me.”

He glances up, narrowing his eyes in that grumpy way of his, but he’s not about to argue. With a sigh, he reaches out to take your phone, swiping it from your hand like it was a burden. He shakes his head, but there's the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, waiting as he squats a little to get the right angle. His breath is still slightly ragged, cheeks flushed pink, but he’s focused now, swiping a thumb across the screen before lifting the phone to snap a pic. You hear the click, followed by his low mutter. “Fuckin’ smudged.”

“Let me see,” you laugh, reaching out for the phone. He hands it over with a huff, standing there, arms crossed, while you inspect the damage.

There it is. Bold, bright red, smeared all over your ass. “Woozi,” right there in the middle, smudged but still totally readable. The first “W” is clear, but by the time you get to the “zi,” it’s a messy blur of paint and cum, like he tried to rush through it at the end. You burst out laughing, the sound bouncing off the walls of the empty bakery.

“Woozi?” you choke out between laughs, glancing up at him. “You really went with that?”

Jihoon rolls his eyes, cheeks burning a bit now. “What? It’s better than my actual name, isn’t it?”

You squint at the screen again, biting your lip to stop the next wave of laughter from spilling out. The smudge really does make it funnier. It's like his little alter ego tried to make a grand appearance but ended up getting dragged through a mess of his own creation.

“Woozi,” you repeat, grinning as you shake your head. “So now I’m walking around with your vandal name on my ass?”

He shrugs, still pretending to sulk, though you can see he’s fighting back a smile too. “Thought it’d be… symbolic or something. Besides, no one’s gonna know what it says. It’s all smudged now.”

“Oh, they’ll know,” you tease, lifting the phone to show him the picture again. “It’s clear enough, trust me. Woozi’s gonna be famous for something else entirely after this.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, great. Exactly what I need. My name on your ass, and you showing it off to the world.”

“Not showing it off to the world,” you smirk, leaning back on the counter. “Just, you know, keeping it for personal reasons.” You give him a cheeky look, watching as his eyebrows raise in mild curiosity.

Jihoon moves closer, sliding his hands over your hips again, thumbs brushing the sides of your thighs. “Personal reasons, hm?” 

“Yup,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning too wide. “Might just stare at it whenever I need a good laugh. Or maybe when I need to remember how well you… fuck.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes again, but there’s a smirk pulling at his lips now. “You’re real funny, you know that?”

You nod, still grinning like an idiot. “Yeah, but you love it.”

“Mm,” he hums, stepping even closer, so close that your legs naturally part to let him stand between them. “Love it, huh?”

You raise a brow, tilting your head. “Yeah, love it. You, though?” You press your palms to his chest, fingers curling into his shirt just a bit. “You’re sulking because you didn’t get the masterpiece you wanted.”

His hands grip your waist, and he leans down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I’m not sulking,” he whispers, voice dripping with faux irritation. “I just didn’t expect my art to get ruined by…” He pauses, pulling back slightly to give you a teasing look. “…circumstances.”

You snort. “Circumstances? Jihoon, you came on it.”

He tries to hold back a laugh, but it slips out anyway, his chest vibrating against your hands. “Yeah, well, you didn’t exactly help the situation. You’re the one who—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head as if he’s trying to erase the memory of what just happened.

You grin, tugging him even closer by his shirt. “Say it. I’m the one who what?”

He chuckles. “You’re the one who kept calling me ‘Jihoonie’ like you were trying to kill me.”

“Oh, that’s on me?” you laugh, giving him a playful shove. “You loved it, don’t even lie.”

“I did baby girl, I did.”

You hold on to him, tired from working the whole day and from… fucking in the workplace too.

“But don’t think this makes us even. You still hit me with that damn mop.”

The next few days were nothing short of chaos—an exhilarating rush of sweet and savory tarts flying off the shelves, and new recipes you and Mrs. Lee concocted together, bringing fresh buzz to the bakery. The scent of freshly baked goods filled the air every morning, pulling in crowds, while the constant hum of the oven working overtime had become your new normal.

One morning, Jihoon arrives early, the sun barely peeking over the rooftops, casting a soft golden hue over the quiet streets. He strolls in, wiping the sleep from his eyes, hair a little mussed but looking determined to work.

As soon as he steps inside, he spots you standing near the counter with Mingyu. You're talking animatedly, your hands gesturing as Mingyu grins at something you said. His big frame blocks most of your view, so Jihoon immediately veers toward the vitrines to see how the tarts are doing. He doesn’t want to interrupt whatever you’re saying to Mingyu, but he's definitely curious.

He gets to the counter and freezes. The vitrines… they’re empty. Not a single tart left. Not even the little label card for the savory tarts, the one that proudly displayed the flavors he’d worked so hard to perfect.

His brows furrow, and he turns to you, half in disbelief. “Hey, where’s all the savory tarts?” he asks, trying not to sound like he’s panicking a little.

You and Mingyu exchange a quick glance before you turn to Jihoon, biting back a smirk. “Oh, yeah... about that,” you say, crossing your arms and leaning against the counter. “We had to stop selling them here.”

Jihoon blinks, caught off guard. “What?” He steps closer, eyebrows knitting together. “Stop selling them? What are you talking about?”

You sigh dramatically, playing it up. “They were just taking up too much space, you know? Not enough room for the sweets and everything else. Figured we’d move on to other things.”

Jihoon stares at you, his eyes flicking between your face and the empty case. You can see the gears turning in his head, confusion, then frustration. “But… they were selling well. Why would you—?”

Mingyu pipes up, poorly holding back a laugh. “Yeah, dude, it was wild. People just stopped caring about them, I guess.”

Jihoon’s eyes widen. “No way. They were doing so well just yesterday—” He stops, eyes narrowing at Mingyu's grin. Then he looks back at you, finally sensing something’s up. “Wait… what’s going on?”

You can’t help it. The corners of your lips twitch, and then you crack, bursting into laughter. “Come on, Jihoon. Just follow me.”

He follows you, still a little skeptical, his pace hurried as he tries to keep up with your sudden excitement. When you lead him out of the main bakery, his confusion only grows. You guide him around the corner to a neighboring shop space you’d kept quiet about.

Jihoon stops dead in his tracks the moment he sees the sign hanging above the door: Lee’s Tarts. His eyes go wide, scanning the large windows where people are already lined up outside, some chatting excitedly while others peek through the glass to get a look at the new place. And right inside, behind the counter, Mrs. Lee is standing tall, her hands expertly working as she serves up savory tarts to eager customers. The place is buzzing, the line practically spilling out onto the street.

“What the hell...” Jihoon mutters, blinking in disbelief.

You nudge his arm playfully. “Surprise.”

He turns to look at you, his expression still caught in shock. “You opened a shop?”

“Well, technically, Mrs. Lee opened the shop,” you grin. “I just helped.”

Jihoon shakes his head, still processing. “This… this is for her?”

“Yeah, for both of you,” you say, folding your arms, satisfied with the look on his face. “Your tarts were way too good to just stay in one little display case. Now they’ve got their own home.”

Then, without warning, he turns to you, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you into a tight hug.

“Holy shit,” he mutters into your hair, squeezing you so hard it almost knocks the wind out of you. “I can’t believe you did this.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes sparkling warmly, something that you rarely see from him. 

“You deserve it, Jihoon. It was all you.”

His lips curl into that soft, genuine smile that’s rare but so worth it when you see it. “Guess we’re gonna be pretty busy, huh?”

“Guess so,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Better get used to it, Woozi.”

You and Mingyu handle the morning crowd in your bakery, but every now and then, you steal glances through the window at the new Lee’s Savory Tart shop next door. The line of people doesn’t seem to stop; every time you look, it’s like there are more. Jihoon’s name is already making waves, and it’s only been a few hours since the doors opened.

Someone at the counter clears their throat, and you turn back, wiping your hands on your apron. A woman leans over the display case, eyes scanning the rows of sweets. “Hey, don’t you have those savory tarts? The ones with the spinach and cheese?”

You nod, smiling. “Not here anymore, actually. We’ve got something even better now.” You motion with your thumb toward the window. “Just next door. The savory tarts have their own shop now, Lee’s Tarts. You’ll find all the flavors there—probably even a few new ones.”

The woman’s eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up. “Oh! I didn’t know they moved! I was looking forward to trying them again.”

Mingyu, wiping down the counter behind you, pipes in with a grin, “Yeah, you’re gonna want to head over there before the line gets longer. Trust me, it’s worth it.”

The woman glances outside, spots the line, and her face shifts to one of mild panic. “Oh god, it’s already long.”

You chuckle. “Better get in there while you can. They’re selling out fast.”

She nods quickly, a little flustered, and rushes out the door, making a beeline for the shop next door. As the door closes behind her, you share a look with Mingyu. He’s smirking, arms crossed, leaning casually against the counter like he owns the place.

“You’re really sending our customers away like that, huh?” he teases, shaking his head. “What are we gonna do when everyone’s over there?”

You roll your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “Oh please, you know people will still come for the sweets. Besides, Jihoon’s shop is practically ours. Same team, right?”

Mingyu grins wider. “Yeah, I guess. But damn, the guy’s getting popular fast. Never thought I'd see the day where Jihoon had groupies for tarts.”

You laugh, glancing out the window again, and sure enough, more people are queuing up outside the Lee’s Tarts storefront. “I know, right? It’s kinda surreal.”

Another customer steps up to the counter, a man in a suit, adjusting his tie as he peers at the empty spot where the savory tarts used to sit. “Excuse me, do you still have those mushroom and leek tarts?”

You shake your head, smiling. 

[...]

You lean against the counter, crossing your arms and watching through the glass again. There’s something deeply satisfying about seeing people excited for Jihoon’s tarts—almost like watching a small victory unfold before your eyes. It’s hard not to feel proud.

Mingyu glances at you, brow quirked. “You think he knows how big this is yet?”

You shrug, still watching the customers flow in and out of the shop next door. “Maybe. He’s probably too busy to even think about it right now.”

Mingyu snorts, pushing off the counter. “Yeah, well, let’s just hope he doesn’t get all cocky now that he’s got his own place.”

You smile softly, shaking your head. “Nah. That’s not him. If anything, he’s probably stressing about making sure everything’s perfect.”

As if on cue, the door to the bakery next door opens, and Jihoon steps out for a quick breath of air. He’s in his apron, hair falling into his eyes, looking a little sweaty but in control. 

He glances over to your shop and catches your eye through the window. For a second, his expression softens, and he gives you a small, appreciative nod.

You wave back, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. Then, before he can get too sentimental, he’s back inside, ready to tackle the next wave of customers.

As the day wears on, the steady flow of customers in both shops never really stops. You keep handling the orders, but every once in a while, someone comes in asking for the savory tarts, and you point them next door, grinning every time at how fast Jihoon’s new shop is becoming the talk of the town.

By the end of the day, when the last customer has left and the door finally swings closed, you take a deep breath, leaning against the counter, watching the lights flicker off in Lee’s Tarts through the window. Jihoon steps out again, this time wiping his hands on his apron as he locks up for the night.

He crosses the sidewalk and steps into your bakery, looking utterly exhausted but somehow content. “Busy day?”

You smile. “You could say that. You?”

Jihoon lets out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Never thought tarts could be this stressful.”

You step forward, wrapping your arms around his waist in a brief hug. “Well, looks like you’re stuck with it now.”

He smiles down at you, that soft look back in his eyes as he pulls you in for a kiss—quick and sweet this time, just a little stolen moment before the work starts all over again tomorrow.

From behind the counter, Mingyu makes a gagging sound, dramatically covering his eyes. “God, you two are disgusting.”

As you roll your eyes, Jihoon leans in close, his lips brushing your ear with a low murmur. “Maybe we should celebrate... you know, properly. You, me, that freaky side you try to keep in check—let’s see if I survive tonight.”

Your eyes flick up to meet his, a smirk pulling at the corner of your lips. “Is that a challenge, Jihoon?”

He chuckles, breath hot against your skin, his hand squeezing your hip suggestively. “Only if you’re up for it. I might not walk straight after, but I’m willing to take that risk.”

[...]

The next thing you know, you're in a motel room, Jihoon having insisted that the best way to celebrate was somewhere far away from work, where neither of you had to think about baking for once.

You’re on top of him, straddling his hips, thighs caging him, riding him so hard it’s like you’ve forgotten how to go slow. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard knocking softly against the wall with every thrust, but all you can hear is Jihoon’s moans—loud and desperate. 

His pale skin is already flushed pink, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

"Fuck... you're gonna break me," he gasps out, voice strained, eyes half-lidded and desperate. His head falls back against the pillow as you ride him harder, his lips parted in a silent moan. "I can't... shit, you're too good."

You lean down, your hair falling around your faces, your lips brushing his ear as you tease, “You’re not tapping out already, are you?”

His chest heaves with each ragged breath, his hands slipping down to grip your ass, trying to hold you still for a moment, but you don’t let him. You push back against him, harder, faster, and his groan rips through the small motel room. “Fuck, I’m serious... gonna fucking break...”

“You’re the one who wanted to celebrate, remember?” You dig your nails into his shoulders, moving with an intentional grinding roll of your hips, making you two shiver at the same time. "Now take it."

He almost sobs at that, his hands tightening on your waist, his head falling back as his hips buck up into you. The noises spilling from him—those choked-off moans and heavy breaths—made your lower belly boil, making you even bolder. You grind down, angling just right, and Jihoon lets out a sound that's more a whimper than anything.

You bite your lip, holding back a laugh as you grind down harder, feeling his cock twitch inside you. “Look at you. Jihoonie, you're so fucked out. What was that about me breaking you?”

He groans loudly, squeezing his eyes shut as his hands grip your thighs tighter, knuckles white from the pressure. “Shit—”

You lean down, your mouth brushing against his ear, your voice a sultry whisper. “Maybe you’ll survive if you’re lucky.”

That’s all it takes for Jihoon to melt completely. His hands slide down your body, clenching desperately as his entire body tenses beneath you. His hips stutter, a long, ragged moan tearing from his throat as he finally cums, body trembling as he cums hard, buried deep inside you.

For a moment, you just let him ride it out, watching the way his chest heaves, eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss, his body still twitching from the orgasm. You slow your movements, giving him time to catch his breath.

When he finally opens his eyes again, they’re hazy, half-lidded with exhaustion. He looks up at you like you’ve completely destroyed him, which, to be fair, you kind of have.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. “You really are going to break me.”

You smile, leaning down to kiss him softly on the lips, your hips still gently rocking against his. “Can’t break my Jihoonie.”

He covers his face, whimpering, cheeks flushing up as if they couldnt get more red. 

“If you call me that again, I'll paint your face.”

“At least it's not my bakery.”

[...]

You leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching through the window as Jihoon crouched outside, focused, the spray can in his hand hissing with each stroke of paint. The tart he was working on looked almost surreal—like it could pop right out of the wall, the pastry perfectly golden, the filling a burst of deep reds and oranges, with olives vibrantly on top. It was almost too pretty for a bakery wall, but it was Jihoon, and somehow, it worked.

"You're staring again," Mingyu's voice broke through your thoughts, and you barely turned your head as he leaned against the counter beside you, his stupid teasing grin stretching across his face.

“Shut up, i'm not,” you muttered, but even you could hear the weakness in your voice. Your eyes stayed glued to Jihoon, his hands moving quickly, confidently, as he added more details to the tart. a few people stopped to admire it, heads turning as they passed by, and you could see them whispering to each other, clearly impressed. he really was talented.

“Uh-huh," Mingyu’s voice showing that he was doubting everything you say, “You know, if you’re gonna stand there drooling, you might as well just go out there and sit on his lap while he paints.”

You shot him a glare, cheeks heating up. “Mingyu, fuck off.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Oh come on, just admit it. You’ve been staring at him all week. It’s obvious. The way you look at him? Please.”

You bit your lip, eyes sliding back to Jihoon outside. He had stood up now, switching cans, his fingers stained with vibrant shades of pink and yellow. There was something about watching him work, about how focused he got—His brows furrowed, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he leaned in close to get the details just right.

And, god, after yesterday when he finished the cake on the front of your shop… you were pretty much done for. You hadn’t even realized how long you'd been staring until he'd caught your eye, giving you that little smirk that made your stomach flip. And yeah, the way he insisted on going around the whole damn city to find the perfect pastel colors to match your aesthetic? It was sweet. Way sweeter than you wanted to admit.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, waiting, and you let out a long, frustrated sigh, finally caving. “Fine. okay, Yes. I fucking like him. Happy now?”

His eyes widened in mock surprise, but he was clearly pleased with himself. “Oh my god, really? Who would’ve guessed?”

“Oh, shut up,” you sulked, crossing your arms tighter across your chest and turning your gaze back to Jihoon, who was now adding some final touches to the tart's crust. The sunlight hit him just right, highlighting the sharp angle of his jaw, the veins in his forearms as he shook the can. “I don’t even know how it happened. One second I was annoyed as hell with him, and then… Yeah. Here we are.”

Mingyu chuckled, clearly enjoying every second of this. “I think it was when he convinced you to let him spray that cake on your wall. You looked like you were about to strangle him, but then you didn’t. You just stared at him like he’d hung the moon or some shit.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t deny it. “Yeah, well… I guess it was kinda cute. He really went all out with that cake. You know he circled the whole damn city for those colors?”

“Yeah, he told me,” Mingyu said, smirking. “And now look at you, all whipped for him.”

You groaned, running a hand through your hair, trying to push down the feelings that were bubbling up again. “God, why am I even telling you this? I don’t need you making it worse.”

ou sighed, glancing out the window one more time, watching Jihoon wipe his hands on his jeans, the drawing complete. He took a step back, admiring his work, and for a second, he glanced your way, catching your eye. He raised his hand in a casual wave, a soft smile playing on his lips. Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly turned away, feeling like you’d been caught.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not.” You groaned, pushing past Mingyu to head back behind the counter. “Whatever. You’re just jealous he didn’t paint something for your store.”

Mingyu’s laughter followed you as you walked away, but as you leaned against the counter, arms still crossed, you found yourself glancing back out the window, one last time. There was no denying it anymore. You were definitely into him—his art, his focus, the way he just fit into your world without even trying.

You let out a small sigh, content, but your peaceful moment was interrupted when the door swung open hard enough to make the bell jingle a little too loudly. A group of boys walked in, street-worn and loud, carrying backpacks that were half-open, revealing cans of spray paint inside. A couple of them had skates hanging off their shoulders, and their clothes were loose, baggy, clearly not from around here—or at least, not part of the usual clientele.

You blinked, taking in the sight of them as they strolled in like they owned the place, heads bobbing to whatever beat they had going in their heads. One of them, tall with a beanie pulled low over his eyes, spotted you behind the counter and immediately grinned. “Yo, is this the spot where Jihoon’s lil' girlfriend works?”

You froze, mid-wipe, blinking silently at the question. Girlfriend? Lil’ girlfriend? Your face flushed, and you could feel the heat crawling up your neck. You quickly tried to play it cool, clearing your throat. “Uh... I don’t—what?”

The guy chuckled, his crew falling in behind him, all of them eyeing the bakery like it was some kind of alien planet. “Nah, nah, don’t play like that. We know. Jihoon said his girl runs this bakery. This is it, right?”

One of the other boys, wearing a hoodie that was about three sizes too big, pointed to the display case, leaning over the counter a bit. “Damn, y’all got those fancy-ass tarts here. Hey, you think we could get a discount? You know, 'cause we know your man and all.”

You blinked again, gulping, still processing the whole “girlfriend” thing. Flour clung to your apron and dusted your arms, and you suddenly felt a little out of place, standing there dirty from baking while these guys—who clearly rolled with Jihoon—looked way too comfortable.

“You, uh, want some tarts?” you asked, trying to change the subject, wiping your hands on your apron.

The beanie guy grinned again, leaning an elbow on the counter. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll take some. Heard you got some sweet shit in here. Hook us up, Jihoon’s girl.”

You cringed at the nickname but forced a smile, grabbing a few plates and serving up some of the sweet tarts you had left. They all watched you work, curiosity in their eyes, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched watched.

As you handed them their plates, another one of the boys spoke up. “Damn, I thought bakers were like... supposed to be all old and shit. You’re cute, though.”

You almost dropped the plate. “Thanks,” you muttered, cheeks turning pink as you slid the tart towards them. “Enjoy.”

“Yo, speak of the devil,” one of them interrupted, nodding toward the door as it swung open. You turned around, relieved, and there was Jihoon—sweaty, paint splattered across his arms and hands, still holding a spray can. He froze for a second, taking in the scene, his eyes narrowing at the sight of his crew huddled around the counter.

“The fuck you guys doin’ here?” Jihoon grumbled, walking in with that same grumpy look he always wore when he was caught off guard.

You could see Jihoon’s jaw clench as he approached the counter, shaking his head. “She’s not—why the fuck are you even here?”

Another one chimed in, chuckling. “We just wanted to see the spot, man! Heard it was dope.”

Jihoon stepped up next to you, placing a hand on your lower back in a subtle, protective gesture. “Get outta here, you dumbasses. This isn’t a playground.”

 “Bro, why didn’t you tell us she makes shit this good?”

Jihoon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked up to the counter. “They’re not here to cause trouble, are they?” he asked, giving you a look that was half-apologetic, half-amused.

“They’re just hungry,” you said, shaking your head, trying not to laugh at how out of place they all looked in your pastel-colored bakery. “Let them eat. I think they like the tarts.”

“They’re pretty good, right?” you teased, handing Jihoon a tart too.

One of the guys pointed his finger between you and Jihoon, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Man, your kids are gonna be so well-fed. Tarts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner!”

Jihoon almost choked on his tart, coughing as he shot the guy a glare. “Shut up,” he muttered, but there was no denying the redness creeping up his neck.

You burst out laughing, the absurdity of the situation too much to handle. “You really bring these guys everywhere, huh?”

Jihoon shook his head, embarrassed but smiling too. “I didn’t bring ‘em. They follow me like strays.”

One of the guys grinned, shoving another tart into his mouth. “Hell yeah, we do. And we gonna keep comin’ back if these tarts are free.”

You gave Jihoon a look, shaking your head with a laugh. “Let ‘em eat. They’re harmless… mostly.”

“That one,” Jihoon said, jabbing his thumb toward the high guy. “He’s the asshole who drew the giant cock on your wall.”

Your eyes widened, immediately zeroing in on the guy who was now trying to pretend he wasn’t the subject of conversation. He suddenly found the tarts very interesting, stuffing another one into his mouth to avoid your glare.

“No way,” you deadpanned, your voice dripping with disbelief. “You did that?”

The guy, mouth still full of tart, shrugged sheepishly. “Uh, it was… kinda funny though, right?”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter. “Oh, hilarious,” you said, your voice thick with sarcasm. “Do you know how many old ladies came in here and gave me looks?”

He swallowed hard, looking around at his friends for backup, but they all just laughed, clearly enjoying the fact that he was getting called out. “I, uh… I’ll clean it up?” he offered, scratching the back of his head.

Jihoon snorted, shaking his head. “Too late for that, man. She already scrubbed it off.”

You shot Jihoon a look. “I scrubbed it off. With bleach. In the middle of a freakin’ heatwave.”

The guy looked genuinely guilty for a second, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “My bad, yo. Didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal…”

Jihoon laughed under his breath, clearly amused by the whole situation. “You owe her, dude.”

The guy shrugged again, looking at you with a half-apologetic, half-amused grin. “Aight, aight. My bad, lil’ bakery girl. I’ll make it up to you.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Yeah, you better,” you teased. 

“We’re definitely talking about the ‘girlfriend’ thing later.” Jihoon gave you a squeeze on your ass behind the counter, where nobody could see it.

You smirked, raising an eyebrow at him, not missing the way his eyes lingered on you just a second too long. “Oh, are we?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, his breath warm and teasing against your ear. “After I get these idiots outta here.”

[obsesssedblerd]

“I told you to quit waiting on me. It’s late,” Suguru mumbles quietly, tossing his bag down with an exhausted sigh and sitting next to you on the couch. You sigh in relief, so thankful that he made it back okay. You didn’t mind staying up until midnight. “Satoru went to sleep, I assume?” 

“Yeah, he was so tired from today, and sorry, I couldn’t help it,” you mutter, resting your head on his shoulder. “Ever since Haibara…” You trail off, a lump clogging your throat as tears rise to your eyes. You swallow thickly to avoid them. “I just get so worried about you and Toru with all of these back-to-back missions. I can’t bear the thought of anyone else not making it back home.” You take a breath, then smile, turning to face him. “How was your mission, love? It was in a village, right? Not too much trouble?” 

Your boyfriend smiles sweetly. “It went great. My best mission yet, actually.” 

“Really? That’s amazing! What made it the best?” You’re excited. Lately, Suguru had been down, and he brushed it off every time you or your shared boyfriend, Satoru, asked him if he wanted to talk. To see him so happy about a mission brought you so much ease. It’ll be alright. The three of you will come back from Amanai, the large number of missions as special-grade sorcerers, and Haibara’s death. One day at a time.

“Just figured some things out about myself, really,” Suguru answers. “It feels good.”

“Ooh, about your technique? That’s so cool. Isn’t it amazing that even the strongest can get even stronger? I’m so, so proud of you. Congrats on a good mission.”

Suguru’s smile falters a bit, and you can tell that it’s because he’s so tired. His hand comes up to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing gentle strokes against your cheek. “You’re so sweet, angel.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “I love you.” 

“And I love you.” 

“No, I love you,” Suguru emphasizes with a slow, yet soft drawl of the word. “Both you and Satoru. It’s always, always going to be you two, no matter what. I love you so much.” He then leans forward, places a delicate kiss on your forehead, then hugs you close, resting his chin atop of your head.

Because of that, you don’t see the tears lining his eyes. 

— — — — — 

You’re finishing some reports at the school when you hear Satoru begin yelling from down the hall. It’s followed up with Yaga’s voice. Though you can’t hear what’s being said, you know it’s not good. When you hear fast, departing footsteps, you leave the room, walk down the corridor, and stop when you see your teacher. Yaga is facing the ground with his eyes squeezed shut. 

He’s trying not to cry. 

“What’s going on?” You demand, now extremely worried. “Where did Satoru just go? Why was he yelling?” 

Yaga inhales slowly, then meets your eyes. “Suguru’s latest mission.” 

Your brows knit together in confusion. “What about it?” 

“He killed everyone in that village.” 

Everything stops. Yaga’s mouth continues moving, but you don’t hear anything. You feel ill, dizzy, like you’re about to faint at any second. You think back to your last conversation—the relaxed, relieved look in his eyes when he spoke about his mission. 

“My best mission yet, actually. Just figured some things out about myself. It feels good.” 

Oh, god. 

“...He’s now a curse-user, and has been sentenced to death.” Yaga concludes, then places a hand on your shoulder, guiding you backwards so you can sit down on the chair behind you when you begin breathing heavier. How could you have been so stupid? 

“I love you. Both you and Satoru. It’s always, always going to be you two, no matter what. I love you so much.” 

That was Suguru’s way of saying goodbye.

[starogeorgina]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫

Pairings: Aegon ii Targaryen x Jacaerys Velaryon x reader x Aemond Targaryen

Warnings: Cream pie, breast fucking, foursome, oral sex, handjobs, swearing, orgasm denial

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Your fingers curl into Aegon’s thick, greasy hair as you hold his head in place as he laps at your cunt like a man starved.

After a disastrous dinner between the two sides of the one family, which turned violent, you all went your separate ways. Or so you thought. While Jace let out his pent-up frustrations by pounding into you, the queen sent her two eldest sons to apologize to their nephew and his wife. Reluctantly, they agreed, but Aegon, having no manners, barged into the bedchamber to be greeted with the sight of you riding Jace.

Immediately you tried to hide your body, but you knew that both princes were curious about you; after all, you were a Stark. Strong natured with a more hardened appearance compared to the pretty ladies and princesses the princes are used to seeing.

Despite trying to hide your body, they had still seen most of it, including your red and swollen cunt. Aegon made a rude jest about how his nephew should kiss it better, and Jace, being unimpressed with his uncle trying to embarrass, ordered Aegon to kneel at that the foot of the bed, and with a nod of approval from you, Jace then told his uncle to kiss your cunt better himself.

Jace kisses down your neck, “Is he doing a good job, my love?”

“Hmm, he would get paid well in a whore house.”

“Finally a use for his smart tongue,” Jace snarks.

Aegon looks up at you and smirks before turning his attention to sucking on your clit. Jace was sitting beside you on the bed. You reach down and take Aegon’s hand and guide it to Jace’s cock.

Aegon starts lazily pumping Jace’s cock back to hardness while Aemond remains stoic as he silently watches all of this unfold.

“Too good to join us, my prince?”

Before he can reply, Aegon says, “He doesn’t know how to please a woman without using his cock.”

“Says the man who's yet to make me come.”

Jace laughs before returning his attention to sucking and kissing your neck. The both of you moan in unison as Aegon pleasures you both. “You’re unexpectedly good at this, my prince; perhaps next time you make a smart remark, I’ll have you suck my husband's cock.”

Aegon changes his technique, bringing you closer to the edge. When you arch your back, grinding against his face, Aemond suddenly stands and strides towards the bed.

He grips your breast roughly. When you notice the bulge in his breeches, you push his hands away so you can untie his laces so his cock springs free.

Aemond strokes his cock a few times before pressing it between your breasts and thrusting between them.

You start to feel overwhelmed very quickly being touched in so many different sensitive spots at once, and it doesn’t take long for you to come apart, screaming while your legs shake around Aegon’s head.

Jacaerys tucks hair behind your ear. “Are you okay?”

“I need more.”

The two princes take the hint and step back so you can move onto Jace’s lap, your back pressed against his bare chest. Jace wraps his arm around your waist, keeping you securely in place. When he starts thrusting into you, you start stroking Aemond’s cock.

“Gods, you’re sucking me dry.” Jace nips at the sensitive spot just below your ear with his teeth, causing you to moan. “The most perfect cunt, so warm, wet, and tight.”

Aegon unties his own trousers, “Perhaps next time we can feel for ourselves how tight that cunt is.”

“Absolutely not!” Jace hisses. He lowers his fingers to your clit and starts rubbing circles on it. “I’m the only one who gets to be inside you!”

You nod pathetically at his words and start stroking Aegon’s cock.

The room is filled with the sound of moans and skin slapping together; your sweaty body feels even warmer when you feel the start of your second orgasm starting. Tears pool from the corner of your eyes as Jace fucks you through it until he spills his seed inside you. His cum filling you to the brim before slowly spilling out of you.

You remain on his lap with his cock buried inside you as you continue using your hands on both Aemond and Aegon. You pay close attention to their breathing; you still weren't over how they treated your husband, and you knew the perfect way to get back at them. Just as they are going to come, you let go of them, leaving them both hanging on the edge of an orgasm.

“What the fuck!”

“Should have been nicer to my husband and his brother during dinner.”

Jace hides his amusement by hiding his face in your hair. Aegon lets out a puff of laughter. He was frustrated he never got to come but couldn’t deny there was humor in your dirty trick.

He was already planning on spending the rest of his night in a brothel anyway.

Aemond, however, gives you a death stare while stuffing his cock back into his pants. When he storms towards the door to leave you and Jacaerys burst into laughter.

[cookiieduh]

ʙᴏʏꜰɪᴇ!ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ ༉ 𝓒𝓦: ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ʜᴇ’ꜱ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴀɴɴᴏʏɪɴɢ, ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴍᴇᴀɴ ʙꜰ ᴀʟᴇʀᴛ, 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ᴀ ʜɪɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴀᴄʀʏᴘʜɪʟɪᴀ ᴘᴇʀʜᴀᴘꜱ.

BF.ᐟsatoru who always finds a way to tease you, even if it's just a little. Seemingly subtle, inconspicuous little comments about how your hair’s a mess or how the clothes you chose to wear that day don’t match, always spoken so smoothly you barely notice. Seconds pass, you realise what he’s said, and by the time you’re snapping your head up to glare, he’s already smirking.

BF.ᐟsatoru who intentionally acts dumb whenever you try to confront him, to get under you’re skin at the very least. The leftovers you were saving? What leftovers? He swears he doesn’t know what you’re talking about, and he’ll gaslight you into thinking you’re crazy. Over the stupidest shit, too. Who left the TV remote where, if the toothpaste is actually finished, if it's Tuesday or Wednesday... He takes great delight in making you feel like you're losing it.

BF.ᐟsatoru who locks in when watching movies and psychoanalyses them to the point of exhaustion straight after. Want to ask him something while the film is playing? Fat chance. He’ll nod subtly with his eyes glued to the screen, barely pretending to listen—but as soon as the credits roll, he’ll turn to you and begin with a “so…” marking the start of whatever pseudo-analytical torture your boyfriend is about to subject you to.

BF.ᐟsatoru whose favourite pastime is scaring you half to death. Trust that he’s going to abuse his teleportation technique to get a quick laugh from how badly it makes you jump. You’re convinced his antics are going to drive you straight into a coffin far quicker than any high-calibre mission you’d ever faced.

BF.ᐟsatoru who swears he doesn't get jealous or possessive when he catches people staring, but will pull out the classic 'waist-grab' move to guide you away from shameless ogling and prying eyes while glaring back at whoever was leering. It's rinse and repeat whenever he notices you're getting a little too much attention for his liking.

BF.ᐟsatoru who secretly adores the quiet moments when you don't realise he's looking. He uses the chance to take everything in; the way you pout slightly when scrolling on your phone, the way you sway your hips and bounce your shoulders when you've got your headphones on. Lord knows he's memorising every detail, storing it deep inside his heart, where he'll keep it there forever.

BF.ᐟsatoru who loves overstimulating you to the point of tears, drilling you into the mattress with no tap-outs, no reprieve. He'd change his rhythm each time you were about to come, going from hard and fast thrusts to slow and deep strokes. When he finally lets you reach the pinnacle of pleasure, the relief you feel is short-lived when you realise it's far from over. Satoru's relentless, plunging in and out of your velvet heat, taking a special kind of joy in the way your mouth hangs open when the sensations become too much.

BF.ᐟsatoru who presses kisses against each droplet that rolls down your cheeks, hushing you with patronising coos of, "isn't this what you, hah, wanted baby? you were just begging me to let you come, and now you're giving out on me?" he'd pout down at you, arms braced around your head while fighting to keep his composure as he taunts you. "C'mon, sweetheart. I know you can be a big girl and give me just one more."

[meowbrown]

Apps/sites for learning Japanese

Can't believe how high quality these free resources are!

Last updated: 2025-01-05

コース

Minato

Free high-quality interactive self-guided courses. It also has live courses (I haven't tried it yet).

Preview

TUFS Language Modules

From Tokyo University of Foreign Studies.

The English version currently only has the pronunciation and dialog modules, so I'm studying the Traditional Chinese version.

Features

Vocabulary list by topics (Chinese)

Dialog

Pronunciation guide

辞書

Kakimashou

Features

Stroke order

Tone

Preview

Jisho

Super clean interface

Features

Tone

Has JLPT tags

Lots of sentence examples

アプリ

Miraa

The Miraa app makes it easy to listen and repeat (the shadowing/echoing technique).

It has a paid version, but I find the free version to be good enough

Features

Can directly paste links from YouTube

Can ask AI for an explanation of words/sentences you don't understand

Has search built in to search for podcasts in Japanese

renshuu

Also available as a web app

その他(た)のツール

Google - Text-to-Speech AI

Useful for reading out my transcripts. It already sounds much more natural than I do, so I can import it to Miraa and shadow my writings.

10ten Japanese Reader (Rikaichamp)

This is a Chrome extension that I use. I used to use Yomichan and then Yomitan after Yomichan sunsetted. But I personally like 10ten's UI.

Preview

[midn1ghtsworld]

TEACH ME

(Zoa x Male Reader)

It was a typical Friday night, and my best friend Zoa was over for our usual weekend sleepover at my place. Her parents were away on another one of their couples’ getaways, leaving us to our own devices as usual.

We were lounging on the couch, channel surfing, and snacking on junk food when Zoa suddenly brought up a rather awkward topic. “Hey, can I ask you something kinda personal?," she said, fidgeting with a lock of her long hair. I could tell she was nervous.

“Sure, what’s up?”I replied, my curiosity piqued.

Zoa bit her lip. “It’s about…cocks. I mean, I’ve never actually seen a real one in person before. Just in like, videos and stuff.” Her cheeks flushed pink.

I wasn’t sure what to say. Zoa and I had a close friendship, but we’d never really discussed this kind of thing before. “Oh, um, yeah, I guess...” I stammered.

She looked at me pleadingly. “I know this is super weird, but... could you maybe show me? Just so I know what it actually looks like? I’m really curious.”

I gulped. Part of me thought it was a bad idea. But Zoa was my best friend. And in a weird way, I was kinda curious myself to share this with her, even if it was awkward as hell.

Slowly, I reached down and undid my fly. I hesitated for a moment, then pulled out my semi-hard cock. Zoa’s eyes went wide as she stared at it, transfixed.

“Wow,” she whispered. “It’s so... different than I expected. Bigger.” She giggled nervously.

I shrugged, trying to play it cool even as my heart pounded. “Um yeah, I suppose so. So, uh, what did you wanna know?”

“So, um, how do I make it get all the way hard like in videos?” Zoa asked, leaning in closer to examine my penis.

“Here…” I said, hesitantly picking up my shaft. I began to stroke myself, showing her how to masturbate. “You kind of just rub up and down the length like this. Focus on the head, that’s the most sensitive part.”

Zoa reached out a finger to lightly touch the tip, watching in fascination as it jumped at her touch. “Wow, it’s really hard now,” she said, marveling. “Can you show me how to do a proper handjob? I want to try it.”

My heart was racing, but I nodded, moving my hand to guide hers onto my now rock-hard cock. She was eager to learn, stroking me with a slowly increasing tempo. I had to bite my lip to stifle a moan.

“Good, nice, and firm,” I instructed, demonstrating different techniques. “You can twist your wrist a bit as you stroke. Ooh yeah, just like that…”

Zoa giggled mischievously at how quickly she was getting me worked up. “I’m doing it right? You seem really into it…” She moved her other hand to cup and gently massaged my balls as she pumped me faster.

“Oh fuck, yes, don’t stop,” I groaned, my head tilting back. I could feel my orgasm building rapidly from her inexperienced but enthusiastic ministrations. “Zoa, I’m gonna cum soon…”

“I want to see it,” she said breathlessly. “Can I catch it in my mouth?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could object, Zoa had leaned in and taken just the head of my dick between her soft lips. The sudden warmth and wetness made me lose it. With a strangled gasp, I started to blow my load.

Zoa’s eyes widened in surprise as the first spurt hit her tongue. But then she started to avidly lick and swallow, milking me for every last drop. I came so hard I almost blacked out, cum flooding her eager mouth.

When I finished, Zoa pulled off with a satisfied smile, licking her lips. A dribble of my spend escaped the corner of her mouth. “Mmm, not bad,” she giggled. “So that’s what cum tastes like. Pretty good!”

I sat there stunned for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. In the end, I just shook my head and laughed. “You’re such a fucking freak, you know that?” I teased. But I was grinning.

Finally, Zoa spoke up. “Um. I should probably…clean up…” She got up and headed to the bathroom, leaving me with my thoughts and a mess in my pants.

But then nature called, and I realized I needed to piss like a racehorse. Zoa’s door was cracked open as I passed by on my way to use her private en suite. That’s when I heard it. The unmistakable sound of flesh on flesh, breathy whimpers, my name falling from her lips like a litany of sin and need.

My heart was pounding as I stood frozen outside the bathroom door, palms sweating and fingers trembling. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Soft, desperate moans echoing from within, interspersed with my name uttered like a prayer. “YES! Y/N! I need your cock inside me… oh god, FUCK!!…”

Unable to stop myself, I slowed my steps until I stood outside the main bathroom, heart jack-hammering against my ribs. I shouldn’t be doing this. It was a horrible violation of privacy. But I was weak. So weak. Shifting my weight, I craned my neck just enough to peek through the narrow crack where the door failed to meet the jamb.

The sight that greeted my hungry eyes stole the air from my lungs. There in the candlelit gloaming, Zoa sat on the edge of the tub, one stocking-clad leg bent at the knee, the other splayed wide in obscene invitation. Her fingers moved between her parted thighs, plunging in and out of her glistening sex. The wet squelch of her arousal filled the air. A flush rode high on her cheeks, and her lips were parted around desperate little mewls. She looked so pretty like that, so wanton and needy.

Before I could think better of it, I acted on pure, primal instinct. In one swift motion, I twisted the knob and slipped inside, never taking my eyes off her. She startled at the intrusion, head whipping around to face me. Her eyes went wide with shock that quickly melted into something else. Something heated and hungry.

“Y/N? I… oh god, don’t stop…” she breathed, never ceasing the motion of her fingers. Her teeth dug into her lower lip as a particularly intense shudder wracked her frame. “Please, I need… I need you…”

An animal sound, something between a growl and a groan, ripped from my throat. How could I possibly deny her? Closing the distance between us, I sank to my knees before her, shouldering her hand aside to replace her fingers with my own. She was molten silk, clenching greedily at the intrusion.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” I rasped, too far gone to care about the inappropriateness. I’d wanted this for so long, pretended I didn’t. How could I resist her now with her spread out before me, begging so sweetly?

“FUCK!,” she whimpered as I worked her closer to the edge, circling her sensitive little bud with the rough pad of my thumb. “Please, I need more. I need you inside me.”

“Zoa, god, you can’t… we shouldn’t…” I protested even as my cock strained against my zipper, aching to plunge into her welcoming heat.

“I need your cock. Fuck me, please,” she panted, glassy eyes boring into mine. “I’m so empty. Only you can fill me up.”

With a sound halfway between a curse and a prayer, I surrendered. Shoving my pants down just far enough to free my straining erection, I notched myself at her entrance. We both groaned as I forged forward, sheathing myself to the hilt in one long, smooth stroke.

“Oh fuck, you feel incredible,” Zoa gasped, nails scoring down my back as she wound her legs around my hips, heels digging into my ass. “So big. So deep. Ah!”

Zoa clung to me desperately, her nails scoring down my back as she met my thrusts. “Harder! Fuck me harder!” she wailed, her pussy clamping down on me.

She was perfect. Hot and tight and slick, rippling around me as if to pull me even further inside. I had to fight not to come right then and there like an overexcited teenager.

I set a hard, driving rhythm, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing obscenely in the small room. Zoa met me thrust for thrust, arching her spine to take me deeper still.

“Yes, fuck yes, just like that!” she keened, rolling her hips to take me to the root. “Don’t stop, don’t you dare stop!”

Pressure built at the base of my spine, molten heat pooling in my groin. I could feel my orgasm barreling down on me like a freight train. Desperate to bring her with me, I snaked a hand between us to find her swollen clit, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Come for me, Zoa,” I commanded through gritted teeth, the pleasure almost too intense to bear. “Milk my cock. Squeeze me dry.”

“I’M C-CUMMING!” she wailed, spasming around me as her climax crashed over her. “Yes, yes, fuck yes!”

I could feel my own release fast approaching, my heavy balls drawing up tight. “Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum too! I’m pulling out, don’t want to knock you up. Pull away Zoa!” I panted harshly.

But the stubborn minx just tightened her legs around me even more, trapping me in place as she came with a scream. Her pussy clamped down on me like a silken vise, squeezing and rippling along my length. I roared as she milked me “Holy shit! I can feel your cum inside me!” spurting deep inside her as I emptied myself with long, hot pulses of cum.

We collapsed against the wall together, both of us gasping for breath. “Holy shit,” Zoa wheezed, her limbs still twitching with aftershocks. “That was… intense.”

I laughed, still buried inside her and enjoying the feeling of my seed painting her insides. “That it was,” I agreed, nuzzling into her sweat-dampened neck. “Imagine how much better it'll be when I'm not holding back.”

Zoa shivered and clenched around me at my low promise. She knew full well that was only the beginning.

[kacchans-waifu]

k*nktober week one : dubcon/s*x pollen

SEXY CURSED SPIRIT — on a mission, satoru gets hit by a cursed spirit. unbeknownst to you, the curse's technique happens to be a phenomenal aphrodisiac.

word count: 1.3 k

content warning: dubcon, unprotected sex, unestablished relationship, oral sex (f. receiving), creampie, not proofread minors DNI

a/n: okay so i completely missed my own deadline and this is highkey buns but trust i will be making up for it during the rest of the month so just bear with me, chat

requests | k*nktober masterlist

Satoru Gojo, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of the modern era, the honored one himself, was stuck fucking his fist, alone in his room, with nothing but the thought of you running through his mind.

It wasn’t often that Satoru messed up. In fact, he almost never did. Today was one of those “almosts.”

He had been looking forward to this mission with you since Yaga assigned it. He was always super happy whenever he got to work with you, and, unfortunately, a bit careless—he’d always been a bit of a showoff anyway.

“I think it went this way,” you said, carefully walking down the alley. Satoru followed close behind, his strides far from as careful as yours. The cursed spirit the two of you were after was nothing too special. You, specifically, didn’t know about how it worked, as that information Satoru decided to withold from you— “It doesn’t matter, it won’t get a chance to show us when we show up,” he boasted. The most you knew was that it’s abilities were not completely lethal.

What you learned later was that he was only half telling the truth. The full truth was far too embarrassing for him to say.

—

“What the hell happened to him?”

You held the door open for Satoru, who was being held upright by Ichiji—Satoru refused to be held by you. “He got hit by the curse we were after,” you answered.

Shoko guided Ichiji to a bed to place Satoru down. You followed closely behind. As they laid him down, Shoko questioned you as to what you knew and what happened. In all your panic, what you didn’t notice was the prominent tent in Satoru’s pants.

“S-Shoko…get her out of here,” Satoru requested weakly. Shoko, at first confused, took one look at his “situation” and asked you to leave.

—

“Y/N, you really…shouldn’t be here…”

Satoru hadn’t let you into his room yet, but you could hear him on the other side. He sounded weak and out of breath. Desperate, even.

You stood outside of his apartment, holding a bag of medicine, tea, and soup. You didn’t know exactly what was wrong, but your panicked and concerned mind raced to get anything to help him feel better, especially after the message Shoko gave you. “I was worried, so I wanted to check in.”

“I told you…to stay away from me…” He was leaned up against the wood, slowly stroking his hard cock. He had already came five times before you showed up, and each time he imagined he was fucking you.

With heavy breaths, he wondered what you looked like on the other side, what you were wearing, what expression you had on your face. All that raced through his mind was you.

“Satoru, let me in.” You swore you could hear a moan from the other side of the door. “Shoko said you were asking for me.”

“I’m serious, Y/N…” Suddenly, he felt himself cum in his hand. Despite that, he was still impossibly hard. “I don’t know what I’ll do…”

“Just let me help you—“

The door opened and you were met with Satoru, cheeks flushed and eyes clouded. He was panting and looked down at you like a wolf watches a lamb. You barely processed the fact that he didn’t even bother to cover himself up when he pulled you inside harshly and into a heated kiss.

You tried to push him off of you, but the strength of the strongest living sorcerer was beyond overpowering. He held both of your wrists with one hand before just barely closing the front door and pinning you against it. Your face was hot when you felt him groan into your mouth and his knee pressed against your heat.

After what felt like forever, he pulled away, leaving you both panting messes. “DId Shoko tell you what this curse did to me,” he asked, half lidded eyes looking down at you. You let out a weak “no” before he picked you up and bent you over the nearest surface. “Been thinking about you…That’s what this stupid curse—” You feel him yank down your bottoms and panties— “is doing to me…”

Satoru takes a moment to admire the sight in front of him—bent over and helpless. He took two fingers and swiped them in the wetness between your legs and, god, you were soaked. Suddenly, he gets on his knees and spreads your ass cheeks to get a better look at your drooling pussy. “So pretty,” he mumbles before burying his face in your heat.

You moan loudly at the sudden contact, letting him spread your legs for better access. “S-Satoru…” Your legs go weak as he sucks on your clit and fucks your hole with his tongue. Thankfully, he was holding you up, fingers gripping onto your thighs tight enough to bruise.

It’s not long until he makes you cum with a loud, whorish moan. Desperately, Satoru laps up every bit of your release.

You were going to raise yourself up, but you felt Satoru press you back down onto the counter and grip your hips. He strokes his angry red cock and practically shoves it into you, bottoming out with a guttural groan. “Oh, f-fuck…”

His thrusts were initially slow—you could feel him actively restraining himself—but with a low apology, he quickly began to pound into you. You’re an absolute mess as he holds you down and perfectly hits that spot inside you. Satoru is absolutely losing his mind. To think, because of some stupid cursed spirit with an aphrodisiac ability, he’s finally able to have you like this. “You sound so sexy, Y/N…”

“S-Satoru, I’m gonna…” Your legs begin to shake as you feel your orgasm ring through you. Satoru whines at the feeling of your pussy squeezing around him, only hastening his pace to feel it even more. With the same harshness, he fucks you through his orgasm, aiming for another one. “I-It’s too much…”

“C’mon pretty, just give me another one,” Satoru begged in between moans. “Just let me fuck this curse out of me…”

He makes you cum another two times before moving you to his room. He kisses you desperately, like he’ll die if he pulls away from your lips. His hands are on you the whole time, grasping at any bit of you that was within reach. “You’re so perfect,” he repeats as he fucks you in missionary.

Your legs are resting on Satoru’s shoulders as he goes for your fifth orgasm of the night. Your moans morph into whimpers and cries as he continues rough thrusts. Your arms are wrapped around his neck as he makes out with you. Satoru growls into your mouth and his thrusts grow erratic and impatient. It was clear that he was set to cum any minute.

“God, you’re so perfect for me, Y/N…” His eyes are locked on you, never wanting the image of your fucked out face and glistening, naked body to leave his mind. “Wanna have you like this all the time…”

You’re under him, repeating his name like a mantra as you feel yourself closer to cumming. “I’m so c-close, Satoru…”

“Fuck baby, I’m cumming…” As you clench around him, you feel Satoru spill into your sopping cunt. He whines and moans unabashedly as you milk him for all he’s worth until you both end up passing out in his bed.

When he wakes up the next morning to find you passed out next to him, he readies an apology. Though, once you assure him that it was fine and you were happy to be the one to help him, he asks if you’d be willing to help him with a new growing problem.

[tbaluver]

Can you do the lad boys comforting the reader having a panic attack? Your writing is amazing!

Comforting You During A Panic Attack- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: comfort a/n: hihi anonnie! thank you so much (∩˃o˂∩)♡ i hope you'll like this and enjoy! any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

If you allow him, he will fully pick you up or help remove you from the situation or put you in a safe place like your room or a secluded area depending on where you guys are.

If you wanted space, he'll sit beside you and will let you sit or lean on him if you need him there. When you're ready, he'll hold you for as long as you want him too. One hand is stroking your hair or rubbing your back to calm you down while the other is to hold one of your hands.

He'll encourage and guide you to do some deep breathing with him. "Let's breath in slowly on the count of four and then hold for four and then exhale.."

He'll even offer some verbal support such as, "You're doing so well" "You're safe here, with me" while telling you that everything will be okay and he'll make everything okay.

Once your panic attack has passed, he'll offer you your favorite snacks while handing you some water to get your energy back up.

Zayne:

Zayne is generally aware of how panic attacks are and understands how to handle the situation. He has seen it from his studies and even in the work area.

He won't even think about touching you until you give him the okay to do so. Unless you want contact during the panic attack and have told him before hand then he'll let you squeeze his hand or his arm until your breathing becomes steady.

He'll whisper reassurance so he gives you comfort without overwhelming you. "Focus on my voice and breathe with me." He gently holds your hand as he guides it to rest against his chest to match his rhythm. "Inhale slowly....and exhale" He would instruct you while maintaining a soothing voice. As you followed his lead, he'd give you constant encouragement like "That's it, you're handling this so well."

Once you have calmed down, hell grab you some water and wait until you drink it before you attempt to talk to him. But he keeps the conversation light because he doesn't want you to overexert yourself. He'll silently take care of you the rest of the day. He'll order you your favorite food and be by your side the entire time unless you wanted space.

Rafayel:

One of the times he won't talk as much. He knows that if he talks too much it can be overstimulating or overwhelming at the moment. The most he'll talk is for reassurance like "Hey hey... I'm right here with you. You're in a safe place and we'll get you through this together."

He'll also use grounding techniques like naming five of your favorite fishies or what are four future names for your plushies to distract you from your panic.

He will only touch you to remove your hands to prevent you from hurting yourself during a panic attack but other than that he won't touch you until you give him permission to do so. So he'll sit by you until you're ready.

If you allow him to touch you, he'll guide your head toward his chest so you can follow his breathing. He'll be patient with you the entire time until you start to feel better.

When the panic passed, he'll ask if you're open to talk about it with him but if you weren't then he'll do his best to cheer you up.

Sylus:

He stays calm and centered while speaking in a soothing voice to help you feel more secure.

He'll be right beside you but he won't touch you until you let him do so. His hand would be open for you to grab when you're ready.

"It's okay love, this will pass soon. I got you, I'm right here."

When you're okay with him touching you, he'd grab your hand and pull you closer to him. "I'm going to breathe slowly, can you follow along with me?" He would ask softly. As you matched his steady breathing, he offered soft praises like, "You're doing so well."

When you're back to your steady breathing pace, he'd ask if you want some space and if you would he'd give you all the time until you were ready to talk about it or just move on from it.

If you didn't want space, he'd let you relax against him and he'd ask you a couple questions if you were okay talking about it. If you weren't then he'd find something for the both of you to do that is minimal and not so stressful.

[bonbonly]

Wait because why do I need to hear more about college lando like I feel like he would be into corrupting his innocent friend IDK MAYBE IM JUST SELF PROJECTING AT THIS POINT

Sorry if this didn’t make sense bonbon I’m running off like an hour of sleep 😭

-🎃

no no dont apologize! 🎃 anon you are onto something here ok

bon's thoughts (18+)

collegeau!lando. ok im writing this and had like the filthiest thought come into my mind oh my goddd but i can see you being top of the class, sitting in the front and answering all the questions in class. lando's sitting in the back, sleeping most of the time but there's rare occasions when you drag him to the front and he watches you raise your hand and ask questions that impresses the professors. he's a bit jealous, but then realizes that instead of trying to be like you, why couldn't you be more like him?

you're so innocent and sweet, it all comes to plan when he invites you to the library late at night. you never went to the library at night, only the morning because you always rambled on about how 8 hours of sleep was required for a good day. he reasons that its a friday night, it's ok and that was the only reason you show up in the private study room. you open the door and see him stroking his cock, eyes glued on his laptop as he's taking notes.

"lando?" you frown, eyes traveling to his hard cock. he waves at you, greeting you with a smile, though you can't seem to understand what he's doing, "lando what's going on?"

"oh, this? this helps me study!" he smiles, going back to stroking his cock as he's reading the notes you sent him earlier in the day. you frown,

"really? i know almost every study technique, i-i've never heard of this," you reply, tilting your head to get a better look at him.

"that's because only i use this technique, i found it out one day but i can't seem to perfect it. i just... i just think im not good at it. could you help me out?" lando asks, and you nod your head. you'd do anything to help your friend!

he directs you to your knees, and has you under the table. he's this close to giggling, he can't believe how innocent you are... how stupid you could be to let him do this to you! this is so much fun to him, and he presses his thumb into your mouth, opening it gently before guiding you down on his cock. he nearly cums right there, your mouth feels like heaven. he's having you suck his cock the whole night, your throat is covered in just his cum and when it's around 5 am, you're whining about how he ruined your sleep schedule.

"but you helped me study!" he exclaims and you shrug your shoulders,

"I guess so... as long as it helps you to study."

and so for the rest of the semester (and maybe for the rest of your years at uni) every friday night consists of you sucking on lando's cock, he even goes so far as to have your pussy wrapped around him as he's fucking into you like a madman, refusing to elaborate how exactly this benefitted his studying but you're very thankful that his grades are improving, somehow.

you're still top of the class, don't worry about that, lando would never ruin your education like that. but it was really funny to see you sitting in the front row with his cum dripping down your thighs, cock drunk to the max because now you're insisting you can only study with his cock stuffed inside your cunt.

that's a win for him.

[bangchansdirty-slut]

Hi can I request a swimming instructor top!anton x student bot!male reader where anton and male reader are in the pool, and the male reader is a new student then things get heat up...

Swimming Practice

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

Paring: swimming instructor!top!anton x student!bttm!male reader

Genre: smut

Requested

More: Masterlist

A/n: This is the first time I've ever written for Riize because I only know a little bit about them, so I hope this is good enough. Also, BRING BACK THE SEUNGHAN NEEOOOW!!!

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

"Okay, everyone, let's get into the water," Anton called out, his voice echoing off the tiles of the indoor pool. "Remember, we're going to focus on your breathing and stroke technique today."

M/n looked around at the other students, a mix of excitement and nerves swirling in his gut. This was his first time in a swimming class since he was a kid, and the sight of the water made his palms sweat. He had signed up for the lessons hoping to overcome his fear of deep water and maybe even learn to enjoy swimming. Anton's reputation had convinced him that this was the place to start.

As M/n waded into the pool, the cool water reached his waist, then his chest, and finally, his neck. He took a deep breath as he submerged his head and felt the gentle pressure of the water against his ears. Anton noticed his hesitation and swam over, offering a reassuring smile. "Take your time," he said. "We'll start slow and build up."

The lesson began with basic breathing exercises, floating on their backs with the gentle hum of the water's surface lulling them into a rhythm. Anton's instructions were clear and calm, his eyes never leaving M/n's as he demonstrated how to inhale through the nose and exhale through the mouth, creating a steady flow of air that would soon sync with their strokes. M/n's breaths grew deeper and more relaxed, the anxiety of the water slowly dissipating.

Next, they moved onto the freestyle, with Anton explaining the importance of a straight arm and a powerful kick from the hips. As the new student struggled to coordinate his limbs, a splash of water hit him from the side, making him laugh and lose focus. Anton took it in stride, joining in the laughter before bringing the class back to the task at hand. His touch was firm but gentle as he corrected M/n's posture, their skin briefly touching under the guise of instruction. An unspoken tension grew, the air thickening with an unspoken connection that was palpable even amidst the chlorine scent of the pool.

During a break, Anton pulled M/n aside for a one-on-one session. His eyes searched M/n's, looking for any sign of distress or discomfort. "You're doing great," he said, his voice a soothing balm. "Just remember to keep your chin down and look forward." Their proximity was close, the heat of their bodies contrasting with the coolness of the water. M/n felt his heart rate spike, his eyes drawn to the droplets of water that clung to the instructor's lashes and the way the fabric of his swimsuit clung to his muscular thighs.

Anton noticed the shift in M/n's focus and grinned, his teeth flashing in the harsh overhead lights. "Eyes on me, not the water," he teased, gently pushing M/n's chin down with his thumb. The brief contact sent a shiver down M/n's spine, his cheeks flushing. The other students had moved to the shallow end, chattering away, leaving them in a bubble of quiet intensity.

They resumed their practice, with M/n trying to concentrate on the feel of the water against his skin rather than the instructor's hand on his back, guiding him through the motions. Each time their bodies brushed, it was like an electric shock, setting M/n's nerves alight. Anton seemed unfazed, his eyes never leaving M/n's form as he offered advice and corrections. But the longer they worked together, the more M/n became aware of the tension in Anton's muscles, the way his gaze lingered, the subtle shift in his tone of voice.

The lesson moved on to the backstroke, and M/n found himself looking at Anton's shoulders and strong back as the instructor demonstrated the technique. The sight of his toned body, water droplets glistening in the sun that streamed through the windows, made it increasingly difficult for M/n to keep his thoughts purely professional.

"Alright, now you try," Anton said, turning to face M/n. "Keep your head back and let your arms do the work."

M/n nodded, trying to ignore the racing thoughts in his head as he laid back in the water. He closed his eyes and listened to the steady cadence of Anton's voice, his body moving almost instinctively through the motions. With each stroke, he felt more in sync with the water, his fears slowly slipping away. When he opened his eyes, he found Anton right beside him, his eyes filled with approval. The proximity was intoxicating, the water creating a barrier that somehow made the distance between them feel even smaller.

Anton's hand found M/n's again, this time to demonstrate the proper timing of the stroke. "Like this," he murmured, his breath warm against M/n's ear. Each time their hands connected, a spark seemed to jump between them, the touch lingering longer than necessary. The lesson was no longer just about swimming; it had turned into a dance of attraction, each movement a silent flirtation.

M/n could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his breaths shallower as the connection grew stronger. The sound of the water was a gentle symphony in the background, their laps becoming more synchronized with each pass. Anton's hand slid down to M/n's side, his thumb grazing the waistline of his swimsuit. It was a brief, almost imperceptible touch, but it was enough to send a rush of heat through M/n's body.

They reached the end of the pool, and Anton stopped, his hand still resting lightly on M/n's side. "You're a natural," he said, his voice low and sincere. M/n's eyes searched his, looking for any hint of the same attraction that was burning through him. The moment stretched, the rest of the class's chatter fading away as they hovered there, inches apart in the water.

"Thanks," M/n managed to murmur, his voice a little shaky. Anton's hand didn't move, and neither did their gazes. The air between them crackled with something unspoken, something that went beyond the confines of the pool and the lesson plan.

"You know," Anton began, his thumb tracing small circles on M/n's side, "sometimes, after class, I stay a bit to practice some dives. It's pretty quiet, and it's a great way to unwind." His eyes searched M/n's for a reaction, a sign that he was interested.

M/n felt the invitation hang in the air, heavy with meaning. "I might… I might like to watch," he said, his voice a little too loud in the sudden silence.

Anton's eyes lit up, and he nodded. "Great, stay behind after the others leave." The rest of the lesson passed in a blur, M/n's mind racing with anticipation. The moment the last student climbed out of the pool, Anton's hand was at the small of M/n's back, guiding him to the deep end. "Here, I'll show you."

M/n watched in awe as Anton approached the diving board, his muscles rippling with the confidence of a man in his element. He took a running start, leaping gracefully into the air. For a brief moment, he was suspended in time, the sun glinting off the water droplets on his skin. Then, with a perfect arc, he dove into the water, barely making a splash as he entered the pool.

When Anton resurfaced, he was grinning. "Would you like to try it?" he asked, swimming over to M/n. The question hung in the air, charged with more than just a casual offer. M/n nodded, unable to find the words to express the thrill he felt. Anton's hand was firm as he helped M/n climb out of the pool, the warmth of his palm sending a jolt of excitement through M/n's body.

They walked to the diving board, the water droplets on their skin cooling in the air-conditioned room. "Just like we practiced," Anton said, his voice a gentle coax. "Look forward, keep your body straight." His eyes never left M/n's as he stepped onto the board. The student took a deep breath, trying to ignore the flutter in his stomach that had nothing to do with the height.

As M/n took his first tentative steps, Anton's hand remained firmly on his back. "You got this," he murmured, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down M/n's spine. With a nod, M/n took a running start, leaped into the air, and allowed his body to fall into the water, the coolness enveloping him like a lover's embrace. The splash was louder than he anticipated, and when he surfaced, Anton was right there, his eyes gleaming with pride and something more.

They swam back to the edge of the pool, the water sluicing off their bodies as they climbed out. The sound of the water lapping against the tiles and the faint echo of their breaths filled the space, the rest of the world seemingly at bay. Anton grabbed a towel, wrapping it around M/n's shoulders, the fabric warming against his cool skin. "You're a fast learner," he said, his voice a velvety rumble.

M/n felt the heat in his cheeks as he thanked him, the towel a comforting barrier between them. "I had a good teacher," he replied, unable to fully hide the flirtation in his tone. Anton's smile grew, his eyes flickering with something that made M/n's heart stutter.

"I'm always happy to help," Anton said, his gaze lingering on M/n's wet hair as it clung to his forehead. He took a step closer, the towel slipping slightly. "But, I should remind you, I don't usually give private lessons after classes to just anyone. Especially not for free."

M/n's breath hitched, his eyes flicking down to the towel, then back up to meet Anton's gaze. "What… what does that mean?" he asked, the question hanging in the air like the mist above the water's surface.

Anton leaned in, his eyes searching M/n's, looking for any hint of hesitation. "It means," he said, his voice a low whisper, "that I see something special in you." His hand reached up to brush a strand of hair away from M/n's face, the touch sending a thrill through M/n's body. "I don't do this often, but I think you might be worth it."

M/n's eyes widened, his breath shallow as he took in the gravity of the moment. He could feel the heat of Anton's body, so close, so tempting. "Worth what?" he managed to ask, his voice barely audible.

Anton's smile grew, a hint of mischief playing on his lips. "Worth taking a chance on," he said, his hand sliding from M/n's cheek to the back of his neck, drawing him in. "On and off the diving board."

Before M/n could fully process the implication, Anton playfully pushed him back into the water with a laugh, the towel falling away. M/n sputtered, surprise giving way to a grin as he resurfaced. Anton followed, the splash of his dive echoing through the now-empty pool. He moved swiftly through the water, and before M/n knew it, he was pinned against the side, the instructor's strong hands holding his shoulders against the cool tiles.

Their eyes met, the mood shifting from playful to intense. M/n's heart hammered in his chest, his skin tingling from the sudden pressure of Anton's body. The water felt warmer now, their combined heat radiating in the space between them. Anton's gaze searched his, looking for consent, for any sign that he had crossed a line. M/n's eyes never left his, a silent agreement passing between them.

Without another word, Anton leaned in, closing the gap between their mouths. The kiss was gentle at first, a soft pressure that grew into something more. M/n felt the instructor's tongue trace the seam of his lips, asking for entry. He parted them eagerly, the taste of chlorine mixing with something sweeter. Their tongues touched, a spark igniting deep within him, the fear of the water forgotten in the face of this new, thrilling sensation.

Anton's hands slid down M/n's arms, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His thumbs circled the sensitive skin of M/n's wrists before moving to grip the pool's edge, his body pressing closer. M/n could feel the instructor's heart beating against his own, the steady thump matching the tempo of their kisses. The sound of their breaths mingling with the water's echo filled the air, a symphony of desire that was as undeniable as the chemistry between them.

With a sudden surge of strength, Anton lifted M/n out of the water, his hands firm around his waist. M/n's legs automatically wrapped around the instructor's torso, his hands finding purchase on Anton's broad shoulders as he was set down onto the pool's edge. The coolness of the tiles against his backside was a stark contrast to the warmth of Anton's body.

Their kisses grew more fervent, their breaths mingling in the steamy air as the instructor's hand traveled down to the waistband of M/n's swimsuit. With a swift tug, the fabric was pulled down, exposing him to the coolness of the air. Anton took a step back, his eyes raking over M/n's form with a hunger that was unmistakable. M/n felt his cock pulse in anticipation, the salty water clinging to him only enhancing his arousal.

Without breaking eye contact, Anton reached down and wrapped his hand around M/n's erection. His grip was firm and sure, stroking him in a way that made M/n's toes curl. "I can tell you're eager," he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down M/n's spine. "Let's see if you taste as good as you look."

With that, he dipped his head and took M/n into his mouth, the salty taste of the pool water mingling with the sweetness of his skin. The sensation was overwhelming, the gentle suction of Anton's lips and the flick of his tongue against the head of his cock making M/n's eyes roll back in his head. He moaned, the sound echoing in the empty pool area, bouncing off the tiles and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Anton's mouth was a marvel of wet heat and pressure, his technique as skilled as any stroke he had taught in class. He took M/n's length deep, his throat muscles working around the shaft, his eyes never leaving M/n's. M/n's hands found their way into the instructor's hair, gripping the damp strands as he lost himself in the feeling of being worshipped by such a powerful man. The water droplets from their bodies shimmered in the light as they moved together, a silent ballet of passion and need.

The saltiness of M/n's skin from the pool water only served to heighten Anton's craving. He lapped at the tip of M/n's cock, savoring the tang of the pool that still clung to him. The taste was addictive, and he found himself eager for more, his mouth moving faster and more insistently. He could feel M/n's thighs tremble against his cheeks, his own cock growing with every whimper and gasp that escaped the student's lips. The pool's edge was slick beneath M/n's bare ass, and Anton had to grip his waist tightly to keep him from sliding into the water.

M/n's breath was ragged, his eyes squeezed shut as he felt the pleasure building inside him. He had never experienced anything like this before, the sensation of someone else's mouth on him was both thrilling and overwhelming. He could feel himself getting closer to the edge, his hips instinctively bucking up to meet Anton's skilled mouth. The water around them grew choppy as their movements grew more erratic, the waves lapping against the sides of the pool a testament to their passion.

Anton's other hand snaked around to cup M/n's ass, his strong fingers digging in as he pulled him closer. The added pressure was all it took to send M/n over the edge, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm. He cried out, the sound echoing in the cavernous room, the intensity of the release leaving him weak and panting. Anton swallowed every drop, his eyes never leaving M/n's as he licked him clean, savoring the taste of victory.

"You look so pretty when you cum," Anton murmured, his voice thick with lust. Before M/n could fully process the words, the instructor had turned the tables, pulling him back into the pool. The water rushed around them as Anton bent him over the edge, the coolness of the tiles a stark contrast to the heat of their bodies.

Anton's hand traveled down M/n's spine, sending shivers through his already sensitized skin. His fingers traced the curve of M/n's ass before delving lower, teasing the tight pucker of his hole. M/n's eyes widened, his breath hitching as the sensation grew more intense. "I want to see how good you can take it," Anton said, his voice a dark promise.

M/n felt a flicker of apprehension, but the desire to please his instructor was stronger. He nodded, biting his bottom lip as Anton's finger breached the ring of muscle, the water making everything feel slippery and strange. The initial discomfort gave way to a growing need, his body opening to the intrusion. Anton's touch grew more assured, his movements slow and deliberate as he worked a second finger inside. The water lapped at their bodies, the splashing sounds a cacophony of passion and need.

With a final, teasing stroke, Anton removed his hand, leaving M/n feeling both empty and desperate for more. "Ready?" he asked, his voice thick with lust.

M/n nodded, his body trembling with anticipation. He felt the tip of Anton's cock press against him, the water providing a slippery barrier that only heightened the sensation. The instructor's eyes searched his, looking for any sign of doubt. Finding none, he pushed in slowly, the pressure making M/n gasp. The water sloshed around them as Anton took his time, inch by inch, filling M/n with his substantial length.

The feeling was unlike anything M/n had ever experienced, the water adding an unusual fullness and pressure. "It's… it's weird," he panted, his voice strained.

"Weird?" Anton repeated, a smirk playing on his lips. "Or amazing?"

M/n gasped as Anton's fingers curled inside him, hitting a spot that sent pleasure shooting through his body like a bolt of lightning. "Both," he managed to breathe out, his eyes squeezed shut.

Anton's smirk grew wider at the admission, and he leaned in to whisper against M/n's ear. "Then you're going to love this," he said, before pulling his fingers out and positioning the head of his cock at M/n's entrance. With a slow, deliberate thrust, he pushed inside, the water providing a natural lubricant as he claimed M/n's body.

The feeling of fullness was intense, the water's pressure adding an extra dimension to the sensation. M/n's eyes flew open, and he gasped at the sudden intrusion, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the pool. Anton was unrelenting, filling him completely as the waves of pleasure began to crash over him. He watched as M/n's face contorted with a mix of pleasure and surprise, his breath coming in short gasps.

"Relax," Anton murmured, his voice soothing despite the urgency of his actions. He began to move, his strokes long and slow, the water creating a gentle counterpoint to their movements. M/n's eyes fluttered shut again, his body adjusting to the new sensation. He could feel the water pushing against him, filling him even as Anton's cock stoked the fire of his desire. The sounds of their bodies moving together and the splash of the water grew louder, echoing through the empty pool area.

"You're doing so well," Anton praised, his breath hot against M/n's neck. His hand slid around to grip M/n's cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. The sensation was too much, the dual pleasure points making M/n's body sing. He could feel the tension building again, his muscles tightening around Anton's shaft. "Cum for me," the instructor urged, his voice a dark rumble that seemed to resonate through the water.

M/n's eyes squeezed shut as he gave in to the feeling, the water splashing around them as he bucked back against Anton. He came hard, his release mixing with the chlorinated water, his body spasming with pleasure. Anton's grip on his hips tightened, his own orgasm following closely behind, his cock pulsing inside M/n. They remained like that for a moment, panting and spent, the water around them a frothy mess of passion.

When they finally separated, Anton leaned in to kiss M/n gently on the forehead before capturing his lips in a lingering kiss, the taste of the pool still on both of them. "Thank you," he murmured, his eyes filled with warmth. "That was… amazing."

M/n couldn't help but smile, his eyes glazed with satisfaction. He nodded, not quite trusting his voice to form coherent words just yet. Anton pulled back and offered a hand, helping M/n to stand on wobbly legs. They climbed out of the pool, the coolness of the tiles a stark contrast to the warmth of their bodies.

"You know, I've never quite enjoyed a swim that much," M/n quipped, his voice still shaky. Anton chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest, and playfully ruffled M/n's hair. "How about one more lap?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking at his own pun.

M/n rolled his eyes, the tension from earlier dissipating into the air. "If you're referring to the showers, I think I can manage," he said, a grin tugging at his lips. The two of them made their way to the locker room, the sound of their wet footsteps echoing through the space. Anton's hand remained on M/n's lower back, guiding him through the maze of lockers to the shower area.

[dailysabinasmuts]

With all the down time Everglow have had, they decided that the best way to keep their fans entertained was to let them knock them up! After all, what better way to pass the the days than by letting your fans pump you full of creamy seed all day long. But getting sloshed full of cum everyday is no guarantee for pregnancy, the extreme sex the girls have been engaging in has resulted in difficulties. And not every fan can spend every day of the week plowing their favorite idols, so some days there is a low turnout...

So when you are the only fan to turn up, Everglow is quite displeased by this fact. Having only one fucktoy to pass around would be bad enough, but there is simply no way your seed will remain potent enough to even have a chance of knocking the last girls up. While the girls bicker around you, Sihyeon musingly inspects your balls to assess your... potency. Using techniques taught to her by Jihyo, skills learned after a prolonged breeding session, she determines the potency of the sperm swimming in your sack.

Clapping her hands to get her members' attention, Siyheon announces that there is enough strong semen to possible impregnate them all. But of course the girls will have to take turns, and as the night grows thin... so will your seed. So on goes the by now traditional blindfold, stealing your sight as aroused idols prowl about you. Subtle murmurs surround you until evidently some sort of agreement has been reached.

A small, nimble hands grasps your shaft, guiding into an incredibly tight hole that clenches you with painfully intimacy. The idol atop you carresses you balls, slim fingers working them before sliding down to your taint. She pushes eagerly against your prostate, all the while her tight pussy grips you like a vice. With a groan your first load is perversely milked out of you, surging into the tight confines of the girl riding you. With a giggle your lover unmounts you, groping you in thanks as she leaves.

The next girl plops down onto you without any fanfare, her hole accepting your length stoically. A rather mundane yet attentive ride follows, the idol stop you noticing what feels best for you and compensating accordingly. She makes a pleased noise when finally creampie her, evidently she enjoyed herself as well.

The third pussy is... loose. Her walls are like moist tissues, lightly touching your cock in a complete reversal to the first idol's harshness. Some time passes, the idol's enterance the only constant source of pressure on your shaft; enough to keep you hard but not enough to bring you to orgasm. Resigned sigh and grumbles tell you that this is hardly an unusual occurence, and feet patter as someone approaches. Familiar, tiny hands slide across your balls, before plunging into the idol's pussy along with you. Who moans as her hole is violated by her groupmember's nimble hand, which swiftly grasps your cock. So you end up recieving a handjob, while you're still inside of another idol's blown out pussy. With a groan, your load is jerked out into the warm vastness of the girl's pussy, hopefully impregnating it.

The fourth idol seens intent on hurrying you along by being extremely vocal. She simpers and moans, barely audibly gasping that you are too large and filling her up. Her riding technique seems uninhibited by painful stretching however; and when you don't immedietely finish she grows quiet and simply works your semen out of you with bland resolve.

The idol that comes after is obviously not blind to the exhaustion affecting your performance. She strokes and cajoles it until it is reasonably stiff, before inserting it into a hole quite unlike the others. Instead of pillowy softness, relatively tight coils constrict around your shaft. The idol bounces atop you with sultry enthusiasm, twisting and swaying down your length with every motion. She purrs with pleasure as she rides you, obviously and loudly telling you off her enjoyment. Sensing your uncoming orgam, she smoothly slides you from inside of her, only to insert you moments later into a much softer hole as you cum. She grinds on your dick as you creampie her, sighing with delight at your efforts.

Your cock flops wetly from the last girl, shrinking slowly in the sudden cold. It remains unattened however, as soft bickering occurs nearby. From what you can gather, the final idol is rather displeased at your current state; and more importantly, disgusted by the mess the last girl left behind. After much argument, she relents, and delicate hands gingerly touch your soggy member. A rather dispassionate handjob follows, which fails to excite you enough for use. Sighing, the idol positions herself between your legs, and takes you in her mouth. The blowjob that follows is far from intimate, but it gets the job done; the painful suction drawing blood back into your well-used cock. Moments after you are hard enough to fuck she is on you in flash. Her perky breasts skim across your chest as she haughtily rides your cock. A dainty hand grips your throat, and her soft voice hisses dire implications in your ear if you dont finish soon. Trembling, what thin seed remains sputters into this arrogant princess's cunt, causing her to sniff in derision; pathetic.

The idol uncaringly walks off, rejoing the others who are chattering idly nearby. Eventually the blindfold is removed, and you are greeted with the sight of all six members of Everglow in the nude, each of their pussy lips glistening and their bellies full of your seed. You'll come back soon, right? 😘

[bonelyheartsclub]

♡ Poplar - Valentine's One-Shot ♡

Written by @/duskyskye

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Splendid, absolutely splendid!”

Poplar gazed at your latest piece, raising it above his head. You’d tried your best to work with the tiny watercolor canvas and brushes he had available for you, but you really thought you could have done better with this one. Especially compared to Poplar’s prowess.

“I don’t know,” you thought aloud, “I don’t think it’s really all that.”

“Nonsense! The way you rendered this flower is lovely! I love the shading you did on the petals.”

“Poplar…you and I both know I was just following a tutorial. I couldn’t do that without help.” Your tone was light as you spoke, though the creeping feeling of inadequacy was still present. Of course, Poplar wasn’t taking that from you.

“Hmm…what I know for certain is that you shouldn’t be nearly this hard on yourself. Everyone begins somewhere, after all! I think you’re off to a lovely start. Now, may I?” Poplar stood, gesturing to the wall. You gave him a shrug and a nod, trying to keep the smile on your face. Without another word, he positioned your piece just above his desk mirror.

“Well, I think that makes for a lovely centerpiece. Done by an even more lovely person.” Poplar smiled, looking at the wall.

You followed his gaze. Yep. That was your piece, alright. Next to the other paintings that he had hanging. They seemed to dwarf yours in quality, the brushwork and delicate detail reflecting Poplar’s talent in his craft. You shuddered a little bit.

Poplar seemed to pick up on your discomfort, his smile faltering as he sat back down next to you.

“Does it really bother you that much? Your painting?”

You gave him a small nod. He sighed, looking downcast for a brief moment before his sockets widened, his smile quickly returning as he turned to you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever shown you my old paintings, now, have I? Oh dear, what a shame. Though surely if you’re so bothered by someone’s early works, you’d have no interest…” Poplar made a point of acting hurt, leaning dramatically against his desk. You giggled at the theatrics. Maybe you were a bit on the theatrical side yourself with how downtrodden you were being.

“Are you acting like that because you think they’re any worse than mine?”

“Darling, I KNOW they are.” Poplar gave you a quick grin before taking his cane and walking to his dresser. With a flourish, he pulled out a well-loved folder from the top drawer.

“I suppose I should clarify before I open this, but I am showing this to you with the express purpose of helping you understand that everyone struggles when beginning in a new medium. I fully expect you to laugh, to judge, and so on. All I ask is that when you reach the life drawing section, you refrain from visibly cringing too hard.” Poplar slid back into the seat beside you, placing the file on the tabletop where you had been working.

“What’s that supposed to mean, anyway?”

“You’ll find out in just a moment.”

You opened the file, which contained a relatively thick bunch of papers. The top started with a few color studies. Each labelled with various brush styles, paint colors, and blending methods. Wet on wet, wet on dry, flat wash, gradients, glazing… all things you had a vague understanding of, but more than you think you would have the patience to complete. You could tell that the strokes and coloring were not nearly as neat as the works that were displayed above your head.

Pages turned from dedicated exercises to a few applications. Circles in various colors were shaded using the previous techniques. He was experimenting with the various colors available to him. You could tell that he had also been following guides with a few of these as he got the hang of the technique. It all seemed fairly rudimentary, but you could tell that he had put a lot of effort in.

At this point it appeared he was branching out his sketching skills as well. Leaves and flowers were a common subject, it seemed. It was at that point that he broke the silence.

“Ash was beginning to garden at around the point I started to commit to bettering myself in the visual arts. It’s interesting, trying to capture the detail in such tiny little things. Though I think you can see that the subtlety is easy to lose.” He finished with a laugh.

Sure enough, the linework was notably shaky. The symmetry he had tried to go for had been lost. The lines clearly lacked confidence, and the veins of the leaves looked more like fur than anything else, somehow. Not that you could do much better if you were going for absolute realism.

“I think you still did a good job.” You said, gesturing to a couple illustrations. “This leaf looks really nice!”

“I’m well aware that they’re wonky, darling. They were my first attempts.” Poplar offered you a smile. “You don’t need to struggle to come up with compliments.”

“No, no, I genuinely think they’re good! Especially for first attempts.”

“Then I suggest you continue onwards. Though while you do, would you mind if I make a sketch of my own while you continue to peruse?”

“Go for it.”

Poplar nodded, pulling his sketchbook and a pencil into his hand. You flipped to the next page.

Poplar had shifted from leaves and flowers to objects that you recognized from around his room. A porcelain plate with floral decoration that he displayed on the other side of the room. A plush that he had carefully mounted on top of his shelves. What you assumed was either an older bed of his, or one of his cousin’s, as it wasn’t the one you were next to currently. Each had what looked like at least an hour of work poured into them. Even if they weren’t the best sketches, you could see he was gaining a better eye for detail as he worked at it.

Then you flipped to the next piece.

You could only ASSUME that what you were looking at was his first attempt at drawing chicken. 

You looked back at Chicken, who had been fast asleep on their pillow for the majority of their visit. You turned in your seat, looking between the sketch and the real thing.

“Ah. You found it.” Poplar broke into a fit of giggles. “It’s absolutely awful, isn’t it? It’s alright to laugh.”

Well, it was…certainly an attempt. Poplar had gone VERY heavy on the wrinkles. One eye was notably misshapen compared to the other, and the muzzle was disproportionately long for a cat. The end product was what you could tell was Chicken from the approximation of feline traits and almost nothing else.

“I don’t know, I think you did ok.”

“No, I absolutely crashed and burned. There are only two reasons that that sketch isn’t in the bin. The first is that when I’m struggling with a piece, it reminds me that I could do so much worse. The second is that when I’m feeling overconfident, it humbles me.”

Hearing him talk…yeah, you knew what you sounded like now.

“Should I continue going through this, or do you think that your point came across just fine?” You asked him, a slight hint of comedy in your tone. The stack that you had left to sort through wasn’t thick.

“Oh, by all means, continue. I’m still working on what I’m doing over here. Though if you’re curious about any of the other pieces within, you only need to ask.” Poplar looked up at you from his paper, gesturing to you to continue.

So, you did.

While none of the pieces invoked the same level of shock in you that Chicken’s portrait did, you could see the purpose of these sketches was very much to learn the ropes of anatomy and shape. It wasn’t like you had much room to speak, of course. It was more of a comparison to his current work than anything else. You could see things improving as you thumbed through each sheet of canvas, each work growing more refined as you went on. By the end, you could see a couple of full pieces that started to look very nice.

“So?” Poplar eagerly piped up as he saw you close the folder. “What are your thoughts? Do be honest about it.”

“It’s your beginner’s folder. I think you showed a lot of promise even back then, even if your pieces weren’t always the best work.” You stated bluntly. Poplar smiled at your tiptoeing.

“Now, tell me: how many folders in do you think I am now?”

“…I have no clue.”

“Fifteen. All as big as this one. Plus at least three sketchbooks. It’s a hobby, but I’m quite dedicated.”

Your eyes widened. Wow, no wonder there was such a jump in quality between then and now.

“No kidding you’re, ‘dedicated.’ I can see that all that work paid off.”

“I’d like to think so. Of course, everyone has areas in which they can improve with their artwork. I’ve just been working hard enough and for long enough that things come to me more naturally than they once did. For instance:”

Poplar thumbed through the sketchbook he was holding to an earlier page. On it was a similar picture of Chicken, this time with more precise proportions. A marked improvement from what you had seen before.

“I see. You did an amazing job on that.” You reached out, gently touching the paper.

“I’m glad you think so! Though I find I’m still not the best at rendering skin folds. They look more like the folding you’d find on clothing than the kind you’d find on skin. It doesn’t help that I can’t use myself as reference, what with the bones and all.”

Poplar closed the sketchbook, looking you directly in the eye.

“I never want you to feel bad at where you’re at in your art journey, my love. We all have to start somewhere, and personally, I think yours is much better than mine. What matters is that you’re trying, because if you keep doing that, then you’ll get to where you want to be eventually.”

You looked back at the piece he’d hung up on the wall. Sure, it was more of an attempt than anything, but maybe it wasn’t so bad. You chuckled.

“Yeah, I got you. I appreciate the reassurance, Poplar.”

“Any time, my love. Now, are you curious as to what I was working on while you were distracted with my crimes against art?”

You giggled at his joke.

“Of course.”

Poplar opened the sketchbook back up, turning to a point about midway through.

What greeted you on the page was your reflection, not fully rendered due to the lack of time, but still clearly you, nonetheless. Your hair was perfectly textured, your eyes stood out brightly with a small amount of rendering, and your skin looked as light as the paper it was drawn on.

“Poplar…I’m flattered.”

“Well, you know, I think it has room for improvement. Time to shade and color, for instance. There’s SO much to improve on. After all, it’s hard to compare a pencil sketch to the TRUE work of art that it’s based on…”

“Yeah, yeah!” You shoved him, both of you laughing. “Seriously though, this is gorgeous. Thank you for this.”

“Of course, my love.” Poplar leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on your cheek. “You know that if you ever feel as though you’re lacking confidence, I’m happy to give you any encouragement you need. Even if it means showing you my first attempts at drawing my cat.”

You smiled, not doubting his words for even a second.

“Thank you, Poplar… and you know what?” You pulled a new canvas from the paper stack Poplar had supplied you and confidently took a pencil in your hand. “I’m ready to start on my next piece.”

Poplar’s sockets sparkled; his grin widened from cheek to cheek.

“I’m excited to see what you create, darling.”

[redr0sewrites]

🎆 A/n: this theme cost me my life and soul

🎆 Cw: soft smut, afab!reader, dom!kafka, (slight) somnophilia, cunnilingus, pwnp, scissoring, aftercare mentioned

🎆 dividers

the soft caresses of thin, manicured nails across your abdomen are what rouse you from your slumber. you shiver at the feeling, instinctively curling away from the ticklish sensation as foreign yet familiar hands continue to sensually stroke your body, trailing across your fluttering abdomen and giving your tummy an appreciative squeeze before slipping nimbly down between your thighs. you stir, forcing yourself to raise your head and watch the slim figure of your lover, who had positioned herself over you with elegant poise only she could possess in the dead of night.

"Kafka..?" you mumble, voice raspy and muffled from sleep.

"shhhh," Kafka coo's, her voice cool and seductive as she raises herself up to your level. the only illumination provided is the moonlight seeping in through the window, highlighting her hourglass curves as she hovers over you. her strong arms frame your head, and your eyes trail upwards to her face, where you could just make out her lustful gaze through lidded eyes. then, your eyes travel downwards, gazing over the swell of her breasts, down past the plush of her stomach to her thighs and soaked sex, all barely visible in the dim lighting. Kafka lets out a soft, airy chuckle before leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. while doing so, she pushes you back down to the mattress, gentle but firm in her dominance.

"go back to sleep," she whispers, voice thick and warm, like a river engulfing you, swallowing you from all sides in a comforting, soulful way. "i'm sure you don't mind if i pleasure you, hm?"

the questioning undertone is left obvious, arousal already causing you to flush beneath her scrutinizing gaze. despite being the one to usually take the initiative, Kafka always left the choice of sex up to you, and you know that should you even have a moments hesitation, she'd stop absuptly. her unique relationship with emotions, or rather lack thereof, made her much less privy to noting whether or not you were aroused in the moment. not to say she wasn't deathly observant, however, Kafka was always cautious, especially when it came to you.

despite you feeling so utterly sleepy, you desperately want her to mimic the feeling of her hands on you, just like she had moments before, and you roll your hips up ever so slightly to meet hers in a show of arousal.

"mhm.. continue.. please," you mumble, and she hums in response before trailing back down your body.

"relax, darling, go back to sleep. i'll take care of you," she purrs, and you oblige, letting your heavy, heavy eyelids fall shut as she peels your panties away. the cold air meeting your exposed sex makes you shiver, and Kafka relishes in the sight. nimble fingers spread your folds, and she lets out a pleased chuckle at the sight of you already soaked in arousal.

"needy thing," she whispers, leaning down to press a kiss over your pulsing clit. "just can't do a thing without me~"

she's swift in spreading your legs and throwing them over her shoulders, so much so that you barely recognize the change in position until her tongue meets your cunt. her ministrations are experienced and lustful as she eats you out with mind melting skill, lips sucking on your pretty pussy like candy. she knows everything that makes you tick, from her technique to her pace, she ravishes you with the fervor of a starved man, licking and sucking on your cunt as though its her last meal.

meanwhile, you drift in and out of consciousness, head fuzzy and melting with a mixture of sleepiness and pleasure. you feel as though your being devoured whole, the messy click of your cunt against her chin and the slick movements of her tongue circling your pearl are enough to push you over the edge, and your thighs clamp tightly around her head as she guides you through your orgasm. maincured nails dig into the plush of your thighs as your cunt clenches around nothing, your hips rolling against her face as she continues sucking on your clit until your seeing stars. your cheast heaves and eyelids flutter as you slowly come down from your high, and Kafka presses an appreciative kiss to your pulsing clit.

"m' sure that feels much better, hm?" she purrs, rubbing soft circles on your hips as you force your eyes open. she giggles softly before beginning to clean up, but you lurch upwards, sitting up to stop her.

"what 'bout you?" you mumble, and she grins wolfishly. "oh?" she crawls upwards, laying her bare body atop yours. "want to help me reach my release too, baby?"

you nod, and she chuckles at your enthusiasm.

"you're so..." she trails off, shaking her head as you pout at her. Kafka leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, before wrapping her arms around your waist.

"can you sit up for me, darling?"

"mhm," you hum, situating yourself so that your propped up among the pillows with your legs wrapped over hers, both of your cunts just barely touching. your breath hitches when you rock your hips and feel the slightest friction against your overstimulated clit, and steady hands find purchase on your waist.

"shhh, slow down. let me take care of you~" Kafka teases, running her hands up your ticklish sides and enjoying the way you squirm beneath her touch. you had fallen asleep in nothing but your underwear and were quite glad for it now, as it had taken just the removal of your panties for you to now be completely bare before her.

wrapping an arm around your waist, Kafka pushes your hips together, and you watch, mesmerized, as your clits kiss while her pretty cunt grinds against yours. your head lolls, and you nuzzle into the crook of her neck with a needy whine as the friction causes your thighs to tremble. Kafka lets out a few soft moans, perfect and pornographic in a way only she coulf ever achieve. a nimble finger traces down your quivering front to toy with your pearl, circling your clit and trailing over your coarse pubic hair with thinly veiled attraction.

"hnn.. aren't you a pretty little thing?" Kafka moans in your ear, watching with sick fascination as your arousal-slick pussies grind together.

"Kaf- m'close !" you whine, biting down onto the junction of her neck and collarbone to save yourself the embarrassment of whimpering as she increases the pace on your clit.

"o-oh? mhnn.. go ahead, take what you need," Kafka whispers, throwing her head back and letting out a few beautiful moans the likes of which songbirds could never compare to. she calls out your name with the complete and utter devotion of someone truly enamored, and with that, you both reach your climax simultaneously.

the sheets are absolutely dripping when you come to, eyelids fluttering and cunt twitching. the only thing youre aware of is the feeling of Kafka holding you close, and you nuzzle into the warmth of her skin.

"you still with me?" she asks, voice soft and warm in the way it is only for your ears to hear.

"mhm, i am now," you mumble, and she chuckles, uncharacteristically sweet and girlish. she lays you back down on the bed, and you drift in and out of consciousness in a sleepy bliss as she quickly changes the sheets and wipe down the mess between your legs. she's slow, almost worshipful as she gently and deliberately caresses your thighs and stomach, wiping away the sticky cum staining your skin with devotion. once your satisfactorily clean, she lays you back down onto the clean bed, and slips in beside you.

immediately, you slot yourself against her, nuzzling into her chest as she wraps her arms around you. warm bodies flush against eachother and practically intertwined, you wouldn't have it any other way.

i love her so much more than any man ever could. kafka my beloved !!!

[kpoplustzone]

FIXING YOUR POSTURE - SEOL IN AH SMUT

OC X SEOL IN AH

MORE ACTRESS STORIES ON MY KOFI- LINK

Soobin’s breath hitched in his throat. He had trained countless students before, from awkward teenagers to seasoned athletes, but the sight of Seol In-ah in that swimsuit was unlike anything he had encountered. The fabric clung to her in all the right places, emphasizing the generous curve of her breasts, the lean lines of her toned physique, and the undeniable plumpness of her backside. The way the material stretched and moved with her as she approached the poolside was hypnotic.

He unconsciously shifted his stance, trying to subtly angle his body away from her, hoping she wouldn't notice the unmistakable bulge forming beneath his swim shorts. It was a reflex reaction, an immediate physical response to the undeniably alluring woman walking towards him. He reminded himself that he was here as her instructor, a professional, but the initial impact of her appearance had already made his task considerably more challenging, his senses acutely aware of every curve and movement. He could feel the blood rushing to his groin, his cock hardening further with each step she took, the image of her body already imprinted in his mind. He had to focus on the training, on maintaining a professional demeanor, but the goddess walking towards him in that skin-tight suit was making it incredibly difficult.

"Alright, Seol In-ah-ssi," Soobin began, trying to keep his voice steady despite the rapid beating of his heart, "let's start with some basic strokes. We'll focus on your body position first." He gestured towards the water. "Go ahead and get in. The water temperature should be comfortable."

Seol In-ah slipped into the pool with a practiced ease, the water rippling around her form-fitting swimsuit. She moved with a natural grace that further accentuated her curves. Soobin watched her approach the shallower end of the pool, his gaze momentarily lingering on the way the wet fabric clung to her.

"Okay," he said, wading into the water to meet her. "For the freestyle, it's crucial to keep your body as horizontal as possible. Let me just adjust your posture." He reached out, his hand gently touching her lower back to guide her into a more streamlined position. Even through the wet swimsuit, he could feel the warmth of her skin and the smooth curve of her spine. Seol In-ah nodded, her eyes meeting his, a slight smile on her lips.

"Now, let's work on your arm movements," Soobin continued, trying to maintain a professional distance despite the growing heat in his loins. He positioned himself beside her, reaching out to guide her arm through the correct motion. His hand brushed against the side of her breast, the contact brief but electric. Seol In-ah’s breath hitched almost imperceptibly, and a faint blush seemed to rise on her cheeks. Soobin quickly withdrew his hand, his own face flushing slightly.

"Sorry," he mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant. "Just trying to show you the proper technique." He moved to her other arm, his touch slightly more hesitant this time, but still making contact with the curve of her breast as he guided her motion.

"It's okay," Seol In-ah replied softly, her gaze lingering on his for a moment longer than necessary.

Soobin then moved behind her to work on her leg movements. "For the kick," he explained, his hands gently resting on her hips to help her find the right rhythm. Even through the swimsuit, he could feel the firm roundness of her buttocks. Seol In-ah leaned slightly forward, and his fingers inadvertently brushed against the top of her thighs. A subtle tremor ran through her body.

"Are you alright?" Soobin asked, his voice a little rough.

"Yes, fine," she replied, her voice a bit breathy. "The water is a little cooler than I expected."

Soobin continued the training, his touches seemingly accidental but increasingly intimate. He adjusted her head position, his fingers gently cradling her jawline, his thumb brushing against her earlobe. He guided her through a butterfly stroke, his arms wrapping around her torso, his hands briefly resting just beneath her breasts. Each touch sent a fresh wave of awareness through both of them, the professional facade slowly beginning to crumble under the weight of their undeniable physical proximity.

As the training progressed, Seol In-ah's reactions became more pronounced. She would gasp softly when his hand lingered a moment too long on her hip, a faint flush would spread across her chest when his fingers brushed against her breasts, and her breath would become shallow and rapid whenever their bodies came into closer contact. The gentle touches of instruction were slowly morphing into something more charged, the air around them thick with a palpable sexual tension. Soobin could feel his own arousal growing with each passing moment, his shorts becoming increasingly uncomfortable as his thick cock hardened further in response to her nearness and the increasingly intimate nature of their training. He knew he was walking a fine line, but the way Seol In-ah was responding, the subtle yet undeniable signals she was sending, made it increasingly difficult to maintain his professional composure.

As Soobin adjusted Seol In-ah’s arm for a butterfly stroke, his own shorts shifted slightly against his thigh. In that brief moment, as he leaned in close, Seol In-ah’s gaze flickered downwards, drawn by an almost magnetic pull. The wet fabric of Soobin’s swim shorts clung tightly to his body, and the prominent outline of his thick, hard cock, straining against the material, was momentarily revealed as it peeked out from the side of the leg opening.

A subtle gasp escaped Seol In-ah’s lips, her eyes widening almost imperceptibly before she quickly flicked them back up to meet Soobin’s. But the surprise and a hint of something else – perhaps curiosity, perhaps arousal – had already registered on her face. A faint blush crept up her neck and across her chest, contrasting with the pale skin exposed by her swimsuit.

Soobin, oblivious to her brief but telling observation, continued with his instructions, his voice still a little husky. But Seol In-ah’s focus seemed to have shifted. Her gaze kept drifting down towards his lower body, a flicker of amusement now playing on her lips. She shifted her position slightly in the water, subtly angling herself so she could get another, more discreet look at the impressive bulge straining against his shorts. The knowledge of his obvious arousal and the fact that she was the cause of it seemed to add a new layer of excitement to their interaction.

A playful glint returned to Seol In-ah’s eyes. She moved closer to Soobin in the water, the buoyant force causing her breasts to brush lightly against his chest, a deliberate contact that sent a jolt of awareness through him. "The water really is quite refreshing," she said, her voice a soft murmur that only he could hear, her gaze flicking down to his shorts once more before quickly returning to his face with an innocent smile.

She then executed a slow, deliberate breaststroke, the movement causing her breasts to sway enticingly under the wet fabric of her swimsuit. Soobin found his gaze involuntarily drawn to the rhythmic motion, his cock hardening even further. Seol In-ah seemed to notice his attention and repeated the movement, this time even slower, almost as if she were showcasing her assets.

Reaching the edge of the pool, she turned to face Soobin, resting her arms on the cool tiles. The position stretched the fabric of her swimsuit taut across her chest, emphasizing the fullness of her breasts and the dark outline of her nipples. Water droplets clung to her skin, making it shimmer under the pool lights. "Soobin-ssi," she began, her voice taking on a slightly breathy tone, "I'm finding this workout quite… invigorating. You're a very good instructor." Her eyes met his, holding his gaze with an intensity that went beyond mere politeness.

She then bent slightly at the waist, as if stretching her hamstrings, the movement lifting her buttocks out of the water just enough for Soobin to get a tantalizing glimpse of the curve of her cheeks beneath the clinging fabric. "Perhaps," she continued, straightening up slowly, her gaze still locked on his, "we could try some more… advanced techniques?" The way she said the word "advanced" held a suggestive undertone that made Soobin’s heart race.

Moving closer again, she placed a hand on his arm, her touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. Her fingers, cool from the water, pressed lightly against his bicep. "Maybe something that requires a little more… personal attention?" Her eyes flickered down to his lips and back up again, a silent invitation hanging in the air between them. The proximity of her body, the subtle touches, the suggestive glances – it was a clear attempt to seduce him, her confidence radiating from her like the heat from the afternoon sun.

Soobin swallowed hard, his gaze locked on Seol In-ah’s. The playful innocence in her eyes didn’t quite reach the knowing smirk that played on her lips. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, a mixture of nervousness and intense arousal. His cock throbbed insistently against the wet fabric of his shorts. He knew he should maintain his professionalism, that this situation was inappropriate, but the allure of this incredibly sexy woman, openly flirting with him, was becoming increasingly difficult to resist.

"Seol In-ah-ssi," he began, his voice a little shaky, "I'm not sure that would be appropriate. I'm here to coach you, to help you prepare for your show."

Seol In-ah chuckled, a soft, melodious sound that seemed to echo in the otherwise quiet pool area. "Oh, Soobin-ssi," she said, stepping even closer, her body now almost touching his. "Don't be so formal. We're both adults here, and frankly," she leaned in, her breath warm against his ear, "I think we're both enjoying this a little too much to pretend otherwise." Her hand, which had been on his arm, now slid down his bicep and gently grazed his side, her fingers lingering just above the waistband of his shorts.

Soobin’s breath hitched. Her touch sent a jolt of pure electricity through him. He could feel the undeniable bulge beneath her fingertips. He looked down at her hand, then back up into her eyes, a silent question in his gaze.

Seol In-ah’s smile widened, and she pressed her fingers lightly against his erection. "This doesn't feel very… professional to me, Soobin-ssi," she whispered, her voice husky and laced with playful seduction. She then stepped back slightly, her eyes still locked on his, her hand trailing down his body before slipping back into the water.

Turning her back to him, she walked a few steps away, then looked over her shoulder, her expression an open invitation. She reached behind her and slowly lowered the zipper of her swimsuit a few inches, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of the curve of her buttocks. "Maybe you could help me adjust my suit, Soobin-ssi? It feels a little… tight."

Soobin’s mind raced. He knew this was a point of no return, a blatant invitation to cross the professional line they had barely maintained. His cock throbbed in response to the visual tease of her slightly lowered zipper. He swallowed hard, his gaze locked on the exposed curve of her backside.

"Seol In-ah-ssi, I really don't think that's a good idea," he began, his voice a strained whisper, barely audible above the gentle lapping of the water against the pool edge. But even as the words left his mouth, his feet were already moving, drawn towards her like a moth to a flame.

He reached her, his hands hovering hesitantly above her zipper for a fleeting moment before his resolve crumbled. With a slow, deliberate motion, he reached behind her, his fingers brushing against the smooth, wet skin of her back as he grasped the tiny metal tab. "It does feel a little… snug," he murmured, his voice thick with a desire he could no longer hide.

Instead of simply adjusting the zipper, Soobin slowly lowered it further, revealing more of the tantalizing curve of her buttocks, the fabric now clinging precariously to the top of her crack. Seol In-ah leaned slightly forward, giving him an even better view, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. "Is that better?" she asked, her voice a breathy whisper, her eyes locking with his in the reflection of the pool water.

Soobin’s fingers trailed down, his knuckles lightly grazing the sensitive skin of her lower back, just above where her swimsuit dipped. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, the subtle tremor that ran through her. "Maybe… just a little lower?" he suggested, his voice now barely a whisper, his own arousal building to a fever pitch.

With agonizing slowness, he lowered the zipper another inch, and the fabric of her swimsuit parted slightly, revealing a hint of the dark crevice between her buttocks. Seol In-ah let out a soft moan, her head falling forward slightly, her wet hair clinging to her neck. The scent of chlorine mixed with the intoxicating aroma of her desire filled Soobin’s nostrils.

He could no longer resist the urge to touch her more intimately. His hands, now bolder, slipped beneath the edges of her swimsuit, his fingers tracing the smooth curve of her buttocks. The wet fabric offered little resistance, and he could feel the soft, yielding flesh beneath his touch. Seol In-ah shivered, her body swaying slightly, her hands gripping the edge of the pool tiles for support.

"Soobin-ssi," she whispered, her voice thick with longing, "I think I need a little more… hands-on instruction." She turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting his, a silent invitation in their depths. "Perhaps you could show me the proper technique for a more… intimate stroke?"

Before Soobin could answer, Seol In-ah reached back, her wet hand finding his beneath the water. Her fingers closed around his still-clothed erection, squeezing gently. "I think," she said, her voice now a low purr, "I'm a very fast learner." Her grip tightened, and Soobin knew, with a certainty that sent shivers down his spine, that the swimming lesson was officially over. The real training was about to begin.

Soobin’s heart hammered against his ribs as Seol In-ah’s fingers squeezed his hard cock beneath the water. The boldness of her touch, the blatant invitation in her eyes, sent a jolt of pure lust through him. Any semblance of professional decorum vanished in that instant, replaced by a primal desire that mirrored her own.

He looked down at her hand, her slender fingers wrapped firmly around the length of his erection, and then back up at her face. Her lips were parted, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps, and her eyes held a mixture of playful mischief and raw hunger. He knew he couldn't resist her, and frankly, he didn't want to.

“Seol In-ah-ssi…” he began, his voice husky with arousal.

“Call me Seol In,” she interrupted softly, her grip on him tightening slightly. “And I think it’s time we took this lesson… somewhere a little more private.” Her gaze flickered towards the door leading to the changing rooms.

Soobin’s eyes followed hers. The changing rooms were deserted at this hour, offering the privacy she suggested. The thought of being alone with her, naked and free to explore the desire that had been simmering between them, sent a wave of anticipation through him.

Without a word, he nodded, his gaze returning to her. Seol In-ah released her grip on him and turned, leading the way towards the shallow end of the pool and the entrance to the changing rooms. The way she moved, the sway of her hips beneath the wet swimsuit, was a constant reminder of the incredible body she possessed.

They stepped out of the pool, the cool air raising goosebumps on their wet skin. Soobin’s gaze lingered on the droplets of water clinging to Seol In-ah’s form-fitting suit, outlining every curve and contour with exquisite detail. He could clearly see the dark circles of her nipples pressing against the fabric, and the way the material clung to her buttocks, showcasing their plumpness and the tantalizing hint of the crevice beneath the slightly lowered zipper.

Seol In-ah turned to face him once they were inside the dimly lit changing room, the door swinging shut behind them with a soft click. The silence in the small space was thick with unspoken desire. Water dripped from their bodies, creating small puddles on the tiled floor.

“It’s a little cramped in here,” Seol In-ah murmured, her eyes scanning the row of empty lockers. “Maybe we could make it… more comfortable?” She reached up and slowly unzipped her swimsuit the rest of the way, the sound echoing in the quiet room. The fabric parted, revealing the creamy expanse of her chest, her perky breasts standing out proudly, their nipples hard and erect from the cool air and her mounting arousal.

Soobin’s breath hitched. The sight of her partially naked was even more breathtaking than he had imagined. He could feel his cock throbbing insistently against his shorts, eager to be freed.

Seol In-ah continued her slow undressing, her gaze never leaving his. She slid the straps of her swimsuit off her shoulders, and the wet fabric peeled away from her body, revealing her toned torso and the smooth curve of her stomach. With a final tug, the swimsuit dropped to the floor in a damp heap, leaving her completely naked before him.

Martin’s eyes devoured her, taking in every inch of her exquisite form. Her breasts were even more beautiful up close, perfectly round and full, with nipples that seemed to beckon his touch. Her waist was narrow, leading down to gently flared hips, and the dark triangle of hair at the apex of her thighs was a stark contrast to her pale skin, a clear indication of her readiness.

Seol In-ah smiled, a knowing, seductive smile that sent shivers down Soobin’s spine. She reached out and gently touched his chest, her cool, wet fingers tracing the outline of his pectoral muscles. “Now it’s your turn, Soobin,” she whispered, her voice husky with desire.

Soobin didn’t need any further encouragement. His fingers went to the waistband of his swim shorts, and he quickly pulled them down, freeing his thick, hard cock. It sprang out, fully erect and pulsing with anticipation, the head glistening with moisture.

Seol In-ah’s eyes widened as she took in the sight of his impressive erection. She reached out and gently cupped him in her hand, her touch sending a wave of pure pleasure through Soobin. “You’re even bigger than I thought,” she murmured, her thumb tracing the sensitive ridge beneath the head.

“And you,” Soobin replied, his voice thick with lust, his hands reaching out to cup her perfect breasts, his thumbs gently stroking her hard nipples. “You are even more beautiful naked.”

Seol In-ah leaned into his touch, her head falling back slightly as she moaned softly. “Show me, Soobin,” she whispered, her eyes locking with his. “Show me what you can do with this beautiful body.”

Without another word, Soobin leaned down and captured her lips in a passionate kiss, their naked bodies pressing together, the cool dampness of their skin mingling with the heat of their desire. The swimming lesson had definitely taken an unexpected, and incredibly erotic, turn.

Their kiss deepened, tongues tangling and exploring, a wet and eager exchange that spoke volumes of the pent-up desire that had finally been unleashed. Soobin’s hands, still cupping Seol In-ah’s breasts, began to knead and squeeze the soft flesh, his thumbs tracing the sensitive tips of her nipples, which had become rock-hard under his touch. Seol In-ah moaned softly against his lips, her own hands sliding down his chest, her fingers splaying across his toned abdomen, feeling the ripple of his muscles beneath her touch.

The cool air of the changing room was a stark contrast to the heat building between them, their naked bodies pressed together, skin slick against skin, a perfect fit. Soobin broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he gazed down at Seol In-ah’s beautiful face, her eyes dark with lust.

“You are incredible,” he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

“So are you, Soobin,” she replied, her own gaze tracing the length of his erect cock, which was now throbbing against her stomach. She reached down and guided his hand lower, her fingers intertwining with his as they both cupped her wet folds. Her juices were flowing freely, a clear indication of her arousal.

“I want you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I want you inside me, now.”

Soobin didn’t hesitate. He bent his knees slightly, lifting Seol In-ah up so that her legs wrapped around his waist, her slick vagina now perfectly aligned with the head of his throbbing cock. He paused for a moment, savoring the anticipation, the feeling of her hot, wetness so close.

Then, with a slow, deliberate thrust, he entered her, his thick cock sliding deep inside her tight, welcoming warmth. Seol In-ah gasped, her body clenching around him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she met his thrust with a fervent energy of her own.

They began to move together, their rhythm slow and sensual at first, each thrust a deliberate exploration of their newfound intimacy. Soobin’s hands found their way back to Seol In-ah’s breasts, kneading and squeezing as he fucked her, his thumbs circling her hard nipples, drawing out soft moans of pleasure from her lips.

The feeling of her incredibly tight vagina wrapped around his cock was intoxicating, a sensation that sent waves of pure ecstasy through him. He could feel her inner muscles clenching and releasing with each thrust, milking him with every movement. Seol In-ah’s head fell back, her eyes half-closed in bliss as she rode him, her hips grinding against his with increasing intensity.

“Oh, Soobin… fuck me,” she gasped out, her voice thick with passion. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

And Soobin obliged, his thrusts becoming deeper and harder, their bodies slapping together with a wet, rhythmic sound that echoed in the small changing room. He lifted her higher, her legs now wrapped tightly around his waist, allowing him to penetrate her even more deeply. Seol In-ah’s cries grew louder, more unrestrained, as she surrendered completely to the pleasure he was giving her.

Their pace quickened, the urgency of their desire taking over. Soobin’s hands roamed freely over Seol In-ah’s body, exploring every curve and contour, from the soft swell of her buttocks to the delicate arch of her back. Seol In-ah met his intensity with her own, her hips bucking against his with a frantic energy, her moans and cries a testament to the incredible sensations coursing through her.

He could feel himself nearing the edge, the pressure building within him, his cock throbbing insistently inside her. Seol In-ah, too, was reaching her peak, her body shaking with each intense thrust, her cries becoming almost animalistic.

Soobin began to move within Seol In-ah again, his thrusts now slow and deliberate, savoring the incredible tightness of her grip. He held her close, his hands gently caressing her back, feeling the subtle tremors that still ran through her from her initial orgasm.

Seol In-ah, her head resting against his shoulder, matched his pace, her hips rising and falling in a languid rhythm. The initial urgency had subsided, replaced by a deeper, more sensual exploration of their connection. She tilted her head back, her eyes meeting his, a soft smile gracing her lips. "That felt... amazing," she whispered, her voice still a little breathless.

"There's more where that came from," Soobin replied, his gaze filled with affection and desire. He leaned down and kissed her gently, their lips lingering in a tender embrace.

He then began to increase his pace, his thrusts becoming slightly deeper and more insistent. Seol In-ah responded in kind, her moans growing a little louder, her hands now sliding down his back to grip his buttocks, pulling him closer, deeper. The wet sounds of their bodies moving together filled the small changing room, a private symphony of their burgeoning passion.

Soobin focused on teasing her, varying his rhythm and depth, sometimes withdrawing almost completely before plunging back in, making her gasp with each deep penetration. He paid close attention to her reactions, her subtle shifts in posture, the way her breath hitched, using these cues to guide his movements and maximize her pleasure.

He brought his hands back to her breasts, kneading them gently, his thumbs circling her nipples, which were still incredibly sensitive. Seol In-ah’s moans intensified, and she began to writhe against him, her hips bucking with increasing urgency. “Oh, Soobin… that feels so good… please…” she whispered, her words laced with longing.

The intensity continued to build, and Soobin felt the familiar tightening within Seol In-ah's body that signaled her approach to another climax. Her cries grew more frantic, her nails digging lightly into his shoulders, her body shaking with anticipation. And then, it happened. A series of sharp, ecstatic cries ripped from her throat as her second orgasm washed over her, her inner muscles clenching fiercely around his cock, milking him with incredible intensity.

She remained still for a moment, panting heavily, her body still quivering from the force of her release. Soobin continued to hold her, his own arousal reaching a fever pitch, the feeling of her multiple orgasms driving him closer to his own.

After a few moments, Soobin began to move again, his thrusts now deep and powerful, his body completely consumed by the need to release. Seol In-ah, still sensitive from her recent climax, wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, meeting his thrusts with a fervent energy of her own. Their movements became more frantic, their breaths coming in ragged gasps, the air thick with the scent of their mingled sweat and desire.

He could feel the pressure building within him, the unmistakable signs that he was about to reach his own peak. His vision began to blur, and a low groan rumbled in his chest. He thrust deeper one last time, holding himself inside her as the final, overwhelming wave of pleasure washed over him, his thick semen erupting from his cock and flooding her tight vagina.

They both collapsed against the cool tile wall of the changing room, their bodies still intimately connected, their limbs heavy and languid. Their breathing was ragged, their hearts pounding in unison, the echoes of their shared ecstasy still lingering in the air. The silence that followed was filled with a profound sense of contentment and exhaustion.

Soobin held Seol In-ah close, their sweat-slick bodies intertwined, a bond forged in the heat of their passionate encounter. The swimming pool changing room, a place intended for simple preparations, had become the backdrop for a deeply intimate and unforgettable experience.