the guild is open

✶ ⋆ ©wonroha . . est ‘26 ୧٭✩

✶ ⋆ ©wonroha . . est ‘26 ୧٭✩

Max Verstappen

All of the Media had declared you two enemies after you were runner up to Max too many times

The Nico/Lewis comparisons went crazy

In public, you two get into fights almost every weekend

Max made a dirty pass, you were blocking him illegally, it never ends

When you two announce your engagement the media goes crazy

You'd been dating for years, since even before you got into F1

But when the fans go back and look at your early interviews, it all makes sense

You bring Max Daniel levels of joy

In the media videos you can be found in you both never stop laughing, and even after the 'rivalry' started, you could be found around the paddock together laughing

Yuki Tsunoda

People always assumed you didn't like eachother because you were fighting for the same seat

You were never seen together much, prior to your outing, which instantly made fans not belive it

When you guys confirmed it people qent crazy

You had to confirm that you never cared about the seat beef or anything

You two were just private, and that was that

People started to look in yuki's photo dumps to find traces of you, and they quickly notice that he can often be seen wearing your merch rather than his own

The next race he walks into the paddock with your shirt on, and you his

Oscar Piastri

The only reason people thought you two hated eachother is because you ignored eachother

In reality you both had thought that that would be the best way to avoid scandals

When you two finally come out, people are confused because there were literally no hints

People search for any sign of how long you were together but they come up empty

Now that you're out, you go on public dates together and enter and leave the paddock together often

People love the content of the two of you now, and you guys are always asked to sign things together

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Fitting name, considering the inside is an audiophiles heaven - wood paneling, plenty of plants, little sound absorbers hung up on the walls. Probably just for decor, though. It's filled with vinyls, posters of vinyls, and people dressed in outfits that screamed: "I'm not like other people", and maybe the odd, "Paris Fashion Week is for normies, I have taste".

Your people, really. You scoff, walking past the top-40er scanning through Sabrina Carpenter and Olivia Rodrigo albums (great artists, but you'd never be caught buying their albums. You like nugu stuff, 'cause you're different), making your way to the lower floor. Rows of milk crates hold albums in various states of dismay, because for some reason, milk crates are the hip place to store vinyls. Scanning, you find the 'T' section.

While Tyler the Creator is far from underground, his highly experimental music lands him as one of your favourite artists, so, after saving up (because, let's be honest, do audiophiles ever have stores of money?), you know Flower Boy would be the perfect edition to really make your room stand out.

You walk there with just the perfect display of hip - groovy mixed with just a hint of aloofness, whatever the fuck that means. You can see from here they do indeed have Flower Boy, but judging by the emptiness of the crate, it's the last one. Perfect. You reach out to it.

You have the perfect place for it. You'll stick the album sleeve on your bedside wall, right next to your beabadoobee album, maybe 'Space Cadet'. Flower Boy and Space Cadet, you make some half-assed connection about space and earth and how you'r-

Someone grabs the album. You curse inwardly, but it's washed away as your eyes climb her slender arm, dotted with tattoos that she'd probably claim have some deep, introspective meaning. You gloss over her, outfit that could put anyone here to shame. Slightly baggy crop top, and denim shorts, her pale skin radiates the whole room. Her hair falls down in long strands of black and silver, and you're left stunned, honestly.

She locks eyes with you, and they're large and expressive, and, in combination with the way she grips the vinyl, it's challenging.

A soft curl of her plump lips exposes just the tip of her tongue, and you almost forget about the album. Until she appraises you, a quick look up and down. Her smile widens.

"I think I was here first," she says. It's like, melodic, her voice, which kind of makes you want to give it up, but of course, no one's a bigger music head than you are, so you just can't in good faith let this go to someone else.

"Hmm, what, so you're like one of those fake fans who just found Tyler recently right?" You say, leaning on the shelf. Might as well get comfortable. "And now you're going through his entire back catalogue, to like, prove you're a real fan?" Yeah, you'll accept her challenge.

Her grip on the vinyl tightens, and she bites her lip - at the challenge or at you, you don't know, but it's dangerous because they look even fuller now, which seems impossible, but here you are.

"What are you doing, then?" She asks, pushing her head forward. Her cheeks are full and red, and the way she tilts her head places it at the forefront. You still don't know what to make of the artsy girl, but something tells you it's a front. She doesn't really care about the vinyl anymore, she found something more interesting.

"Probably the same thing," you say, and even though it's an admission of defeat, or more accurately, an admission of equality, you say it smugly. "Here," you say, grabbing another vinyl, the black and silver 'Chromakopia', and hand it to her. "Take this one, matches your hair."

She doesn't even look down, just keeps her eyes trained on you. "Already have it," she says simply. "Because unlike you, I'm not a fake fan." She lets the words hang there on her tongue, mouth frozen in the last position of her speech like she's waiting for your retort.

So, she denies that admission of equality.

"But I can tell you are," she says when no retort comes. Her eyes flick to your feet. "Doc Martens? Pretty last year, don't you think?"

She took your truce and threw it back in your face, and that damn smirk still lines hers. She's having fun here, and you're on your back foot.

Her smile is so damn bright it hurts, but your ego is in shatters. Not like it's rare though, your types egos are really quite fragile. Hence the clothes. But, maybe you could use that.

"You know what, take it," and it's your turn to curl your lips. "On second thought, Tyler's not really my taste". If there's one thing you know about these artsy types, it's they'll defend their artists to tooth and nail. But you don't give her a chance. You're off to the next row of shelves, and you can feel her eyes bearing into the back of your skull.

You would've liked to see those plump lips in action more, but for some odd reason, you have a feeling this isn't over.

That moment comes when you're leaving the store. She's leaning back on the brick wall right near the door, cigarette already burning. You now notice her legs, and although she's not tall, your eyes follow them for what seems like miles. She takes a drag, and you swear you can see that little mole right under her lip wave at you like: "come here! You think you can question my music taste?"

"What'd you get?" She asks, eyeing your tote, which is considerably more full than 10 minutes ago. You smirk, knowing you got her. Her voice is lined with genuine curiosity, which is funny, because clearly you are a Tyler fan, and your earlier comment was just a ruse. But still, artsy kids and their egos, right?

You pull out the vinyl. "It'll go perfect on my vinyl wall," you say, equal parts flexing the album and the fact you have a vinyl wall. "You know him?"

"Tch. Do I know him," she scoffs. "Of course I do. It's Keshi."

"Hmm." It's all you give her, and clearly, she wants to prove herself.

"I guess you have good taste," she says. It's not a full compliment, really. You know how these games are played. "He's been on my radar since, oh I don't know, his first EP."

Yep, there it is. It's meant to bother you, and that pleased little look on her face makes it so it does indeed get under your skin.

The mole is dancing around in your peripheral vision, and she sees your eyes flick from her bare legs to her toned tummy, back up to the mole, and she presses her advantage even further. "It's a good album. Looks great on my wall, right next to his other albums."

You should just walk away, but that cigarette is trapped between her lips again, and just the sight of it leaves you woozy.

"Sounds like you have good taste too," you admit.

She smiles. "I do."

"Mhm." You say a little aggressively, because yeah, now you definitely lost.

"Wanna see?" She asks suddenly.

It catches you off guard. "See what?"

"My taste," she smiles. "I live down the street."

For some reason, you say yes. Her apartment is a little old, a little run down, but it's littered with personality. She does indeed have a vinyl wall, but also one of those old vinyl players (not the one's with that brass trumpet looking thing, because she's an audiophile, not a grandma), a couple of wine glasses scattered around, and plenty of plants.

She bends lower than she needs to when she places the vinyl in the player, and her long legs look so fucking milky and delicious. You suddenly realize you're in this girls apartment, alone, with her long legs and her attitude, and you think, well fuck, this is going better than expected.

She loads the tonearm. "You've never listened to it, right?" She asks, and you draw away from her hips to realize she's been staring at you. "No? Perfect, I'll start it from the beginning."

She saunters over to you, still smirking. She must have done something since inviting you over, because her collarbone is so damn alluring right now, peaking out from her crop top. You could've sworn it didn't look that good when she was grabbing your album. The ring of the music starts, and she's less than a foot away from you now, leaning against the back of her couch with her arms crossed.

You don't know what to make of it, any of it.

She opens her mouth again, just a bit so you can see her tongue just past her lips. She stares at you expectantly.

"So, what do you think?"

"Hmm?"

"The album?" You definitely weren't paying attention. You almost forgot she was playing something new for you, something to validate her good taste in music.

"Oh. Ye- yeah it's good." You say, stuttering because you're more focused on how fragile she looks, on how you could probably pick her up and fuck her while she begs for more - but that's getting ahead of yourself.

"I told you I had good taste," she smiles happily. She's so close you can feel her breath on you. It's minty and warm, and you swear she angles her face while she says it, just to give you a better view of that mole.

She gives a small chuckle, and you know then you've fallen into her trap. The pretense is gone, the one that's been there since you both grabbed the album- fuck, you can't even remember which album it was, and the same pretense of a new album she wanted to play for you.

"Now I guess we'll have to see," she says slowly, annunciating each word, mouthing every damn syllable with exaggeration. She places her hands on your shoulders, and you're fucking trembling, because this woman is so god damn hot. She leans into you, mouth right next to your ear. "If you have good taste."

Her hands trail down your body till they find the string of your pants, and you're too stunned to do anything. She climbs down on her knees, letting your pants fall to the ground. Honestly, your taken aback, because yeah, she's fucking stunning, but you never thought that tension about the album was fucking sexual tension.

But you see her looking up at you, plump lips pursed together and you have half a hard on already. She grabs your hand, placing it in her hair. "Well, show me you have good taste," she says, rubbing her lips together before releasing it with a 'pop'.

Your hand rests there for a second, silky hair flowing out of it, before you regain composure.

She's fucking hot, she has good taste in music, and she's on her knees giving you permission to use her. Yeah, get it to-fucking-gether.

You grab a fistful of her hair, dragging her closer to your cock. She opens her mouth a bit, and drags a wet tongue over the underside of it. The sensation is riveting. It sends a jolt coursing through you.

"Nngh," you stutter, but you angle her face higher, taking your almost fully erect penis, and slapping it on her lips. She purses them, large eyes still staring at you hungrily. The sound is erotic, and she lets out a grunt as you tap her lips with your cock.

You lift it off of her face. You're still in shock, really. None of your movements have been really assertive, but when her eyes twinkle, and she says "your music taste is so fucking hot," it gives you all the reason to start.

She opens her mouth, and you slide into her, welcoming the feeling of sublimity. It's wet and hot, and your knees buckle. She makes a noise, somewhere between a grunt and a moan, and soon her lips, her fucking dick sucking lips are working you like you've never been worked before. You slide in and out of her mouth, and she laps everything up.

You're throbbing inside of her, but clearly, she can take more. Your other hand grabs another fistful of her hair, and you thrust.

Even her fucking gargles are melodic. Drool and spit leaks from her mouth as you thrust into her, tip penetrating her tight throat. She places her hands on your thighs as a brace.

She looks like a damn mess, but her eyes still stare up at you with that same challenging glare.

"F-fuck," you moan, and you would've moaned her name if you knew it.

You bottom out into her, holding your cock in her throat. She makes a strangled sort of noise, but her hand climbs down her tight little body, and starts fiddling with what you assume is her own pleasure source.

Eventually, you back out. She takes a deep breath, releasing a pool of saliva down her front.

She leans back, body looking used, but face still wearing that confident composure. She huffs, but smiles and sticks her tongue out again.

You can't possibly keep her from what she wants, right? You grab her by the hair once again, sliding back into her now familiar warmth. This time, her hands find your balls, slowly massaging them. You groan, thrusting faster.

The site of her lips wrapped around your length is dizzying. You brush the hair out of her face as you slam into her, and that perfect face that you want to use looks back at you, unruined. Like nothing you do to her would ever effect her, like she has you right where she wants you.

Your vision blurs as the pleasure wells up inside of you. The pressure lingers, tightening, controlling. You thrust faster, eliciting even deeper groans from her.

Your grunts grow too, and soon, the pleasure releases into pure bliss. You explode inside of her.

Finally, her eyes close as your cum fills her mouth. It overflows, some of it leaking out the corners of her lips, but she keeps ahold of what she can. Soon, she opens her eyes, locking them with yours, and swallows. It's slow, not all at once. Just a little at a time, but that makes it all the more hot, especially considering your cock is still lodged between those plump lips - god you can't stop looking at her lips.

She slowly pushes off of your cock, finally swallowing all of your seed. She gives a refreshed sort of gasp, her tongue flicking out to lap up some of the cum that's spilled out of her mouth.

You can barely stand, the pleasure having rippled through your entire body, but when she says: "I was right, you do have good taste," it stirs something in you.

You pick her up, hoisting by the waist, and she clings to you like a koala, with a playful little laugh.

You circle around to the front of the couch, throwing her down onto it.

She gives a yelp as she floats down to it, bouncing on the leather.

It's your turn to fall to your knees, and she's taking off her shorts as you do.

She's wearing beige lace panties, and when you see it, you can't help but grab her long, slender legs. They're fucking smooth, and you could honestly touch them forever, but her pussy is hiding behind that beige lace, so you drag her bosom to the edge of the couch.

She's still giggling as she takes a single finger, hooking it around the string of her panties, and slides it to the side revealing her perfectly smooth, dripping wet cunt.

You're fucking drooling just as much as she is wet, and it isn't until she says "taste me," in an almost needy beg that your tongue gets to work.

You don't dive right in, but instead lick around her folds, lapping up all her wetness. She's groaning and squirming, but your arms are still hooked around her legs, keeping her in place.

"F-fuck, nngh," she moans, and you can still hear the cheerfulness in her voice, and it turns you on even more. Her smell is hypnotizing, and you can't possibly hold yourself back anymore.

Your tongue brushed her folds, and that sweet irony taste floods your tongue. It's divine. It's liquid from the heavens. It's the nectar of the gods, and a little half gasp escapes her lips.

Her hands find your hair, squeezing tight, but you don't let up. Your arm wraps deeper around her leg to circle back to her cunt, thumb brushing her clit.

She jolts into you, sending your tongue inside of her. You go with it, because you wouldn't dream of complaining about being deeper in her folds.

Her squirming turns your on even more, so you go deeper, lick even faster, circle her clit with even more vigor until she's practically scream, hand leaving your hair and clenching into her couch.

You feel her body tense, and her legs wrap around your head with surprising strength, holding you in place as her pussy walls flutter on your tongue, sending a torrent of her juices coating your tongue.

The record player hums scratches indicating the vinyl should be flipped, but of course, the grainy sound sustains.

It doesn't matter anyway, because the sound of her cumming is a greater song than any record could play.

You pull back as her shudders subside, and just take everything in. Her hair, disheveled, shirt all crumpled as if she was playing with her tits while you ate her out, and her petite, lithe form shakes.

She's all huffy, and a little out of it - which makes you happy, actually, because the way she felt so in control as she sucked you off didn't sit right with you.

So to see her squirm underneath you was rewarding. So much so you have to sneak in a dig. "I got that vinyl first," you breathe.

She looks at you, still shaking, wide and incredulous look on her face. "You're still thinking about that?"

You don't even answer, you just grip her midriff, and pull up to meet her. You knew her lips would be soft, you didn't know they'd be made of pillows, marshmallows and clouds. You soak into her, almost get lost, but you don't, because you want to do oh so much more to this girl.

"What's your name?" you whisper between kisses - and it's not because you want to get to know her any better, at least for the moment, you just need something to moan when you fuck her in about half a minute.

"Ch-chaeyoung," she moans, and you repeat it.

The words feel right in your mouth, and you say them into her . Her arms wrap around you, and yours climb to the crop top still draped around her form.

You practically tear it off, breaking kisses with her for only moments to eventually lift it over her head. She's so beautiful you almost think your heart is going to stop. She's not carrying a lot on her chest, but what she is is smooth and milky and perfect, accented with the cutest pink nipples you'll ever see.

"Jesus fuck, Chaeyoung," you mutter, and that smile you saw from your vinyl altercation lines her face again. That confident sort of challenge, like: 'yeah, I'm fucking hot. What are you going to do about it?'

Your hands dart to her tits, taking in the soft flesh, fingers finding her button nipples. You give them a squeeze, and she raises her eyebrows.

Okay, not good enough. You pinch them now, and she gives you a hint of a smile. It's your signal to keep going, so you palm them, the whole of them, giving them a firm squeeze, thumb brushing her nipples. She rolls her head back, so you dive in with your tongue. It's unkempt, really, the way your attacking her tits. Your mouth is all over, covering her chest with your saliva, but you can't fucking help yourself, because this girl— because Chaeyoung is kind of perfect.

Your tongue works on each tit equally, jumping from nipple to nipple, while a hand travels down her stomach, past her waist until you feel her wetness in your fingers. Just like her lips, her cunt is wet and soft, and from your slight touch, her body shakes under you. You can already feel the slickness on your fingers, and you have the urge to reach them up to her mouth just so you can taste her again, but her tits are in your mouth and your hand is on her pussy, and really, that's fine too.

You climb lower, past what your fingers have already discovered in her clit, and down to her entrance. You give her a rub, and her hand shoots to the back of your head, before you enter. Just a finger, for now, but her breath hitches just the same.

You tear your mouth away from her tits, jumping back to her mouth. She takes you in, huffing "fuck me with two fingers," before her tongue is in yours.

So you do, and her moistness so fucking erotic you may never wash your hands again.

You keep fucking her with your fingers, but you want more - it's hard tho, because every time you pull away from her lips, Chaeyoung pulls you back in. It's like every crash is the first time, her mole still teasing, but in a different way, pulling you back in for more.

Your cock is throbbing once again, and the sound of the record player is just a distant memory, it's old school, it's not underground and you have new things to explore.

Like how your cock feels in her cunt.

You tear yourself with all your willpower away from her, and she pushes her lip out in a pout.

Clearly, her lips are your weak spot for her, so the fact you don't jump in with ten times the voracity is quite impressive.

But there are other things to explore, like your penis, hovering inches away from her sopping folds. You slide her panties down, and it reveals a little happy face tattoo right on her waste. Fucking of course she has a tattoo here, and of course it's smiling up at you like: 'you're gonna love this'.

Enough with that, this is no time to be stunlocked. You line up the head to her entrance, and push in.

You've had sex before - hell, you had sex last week. But this, this is on another level. On penetration, you know all hope of lasting long is null. The way she sucks you in, the way her walls cling perfectly to you. It's like she was sculpted for you perfectly, the snark, the teasing, the music taste, those perfect lips and her gods damned cunt.

"Chaeyoung," you moan, and it's not enough, because you'd scream it to the heaven's, you'd etch it to every vinyl in your house so you could only listen to her name.

You're not even halfway in yet and you can barely orient yourself.

It looks like Chaeyoung too feels it, that spark, that connection you have, because her head is rolled back and her eyes are close, and she's moaning even harder than when you were tongue fucking her.

Yeah, you're definitely not lasting long. Well, might as well go out with a bang.

Your hips contract in a thrust - the slap of your balls echoes the room and you wouldn't be surprised if one of those empty wine glasses shattered at the noise. You almost cum right there, it takes everything not to. In fact, you have to close your eyes, take your mind off those GOD damn lips and her fluttering eyes, else you would've lost it.

You unsheathe, climbing back out until just the tip is in before ramming back again. It's another song, the slap of your manhood on her, but one just as catchy. You play with the rhythm slowing down and speeding up, and her groans act as melodies like some perverse grand orchestra. You open your eyes to find her just as ethereal as before. You're still close, but you've garnered some focus. You start to move at a consistent rhythm, and her hips roll into you, matching it with force.

Your hands find her tits once again, half for balance, and half because they feel so fucking nice.

You thrust, and thrust and thrust until she's screaming out in pleasure, and you're lost in her scent and the way she looks feels, until that familiar pressure builds up again.

You want to cum everywhere.

But you're already spent having came moments ago, and the image of her lips, leaking your seed fills your mind. You keep pumping, voraciously, and the well of pressure fills.

It fills your pelvis as her walls tighten around you, flaring even more pleasure within you, and you pull out because—

Yeah, you think through the blinding pleasure as you climb up. You were right to cum on her tits and her face, because it looks so good on her against pale skin,

It webs across her, spraying her tits and face alike. She's still shaking from her orgasm as you cum on her, waves of the white liquid coating her.

Eventually, the pleasure subsides and you collapse back on the couch.

"That was— fuck, that was amazing," you manage. "I'll get you some tissues."

"No need," she huffs, scooping the liquid from her skin into her mouth. "But maybe you can flip the vinyl. I think it's time for part 2."

Whether she's talking about the album or the sex, you have no idea.

–

Granted, it's been a few days after the message.

God forbid the efforts to come crawling back to her would make anyone insane for that matter - considering the occasion she was at and the amount of prestige it carried. 

The wonders of fashion shows: glamorous in all its might; the kind that would put her on the map. 

When that door swings in, she doesn’t really need any further introduction:

“Kept ya waiting?” asks Momo, hand sliding up the frame and flaunting an elbow on her hip. Taking her downtime to the usual standard of Hirai Momo she stunningly owns you know all too well. That trademark head tilt and simple smirk -  a small telltale of which you wonder if the sun should’ve stayed along the horizon just a little longer for someone like her. 

“Please,” you say, following her in as she walks backwards, eyes trained well on your stature. Attentive-  too attentive. As if  she wants something. “If I really despised your guts, you’d have a restraining order from me already.” 

“Yet here you are,” she replies, letting you fill the opening in front. A familiar proximity you catch yourself in with not just her - but with Dahyun, Sana, Tzuyu, and freaking Jihyo of all people at times. There’s a pattern to be drawn in this. Somehow you haven’t sensed it yet. 

“Here I am,” you repeat. And that’s the usual track, unfortunately. From every angle, you’re recalling the recent escapades you’ve done with her. How the lingering thought of omitting any idea of her from your mind was forever the impossibility. You’re keeping it slightly professional with your hands behind your back, the posture upright. 

“I’m in a sour mood with you,” Momo then says, swiveling her body into the wider space of the hotel room - a recurring solitude that’s considered one of her many homes. “Hanging me out just because you’re a little scared? What’s Dahyun gonna do? Dismember me?” 

“You’ve seen her angry,” you laugh, settling your bearings and sitting on the edge of her bed. “Trust me, I’ve had to do a lot so she wouldn’t kill you instead.” 

“So what? It’s not like you’re being put on trial - having a little fun. Get a little scandalous from time to time.” 

“Momo-” 

She laughs, fingernail to her lip. The neat pink and white robe she’s wearing is molding to her figure. Especially with the “V” neck cut: it does everything to exemplify her tits. 

“I’m just saying,” and there’s a hush in her tone, once the space at your lower half is filled by her legs. Again, you’ve seen her build multiple times - more than you would like to count or admit - how the details can be noticed on her waist, her ass, the flawless proportions where you’ve bent and mangled until she’s a mix of an unapologetic, screaming mess begging to be belittled in all the ways you adore and love. Her hands dance on your shoulders, twiddling on the small hairs on your neck. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, coming to me behind your girlfriend’s back. Remind me again: Was it- hm, girlfriend? Fiancé? Or- here I thought you’ve asked the golden question to her-” 

“Good things come with time,” you say. To that, Momo rolls her eyes. She’s smirking at the loose sentence - since she knows her word will be more superior to yours. 

“You could say the same thing about your cock,” she then says, fiddling with the bow at her middle. “That and your charm- I mean, seriously. I’m jealous of Dahyun sometimes. How she’s managed to keep you all to herself.” 

“I could propose that we have an intervention together.” Your expression lights up slightly when you look up, full of Momo’s star-studded, sly gaze, the dreamy lashes she bashes over yours that really shine when she’s glowing in the low lights. The illuminating ambience of yellow and orange mixed in the background. In the late hours of the evening above the busy streets and meeting atop the clouds. “Talk about the many, many issues you and I have going on. One where we draw the line of who gets the final say; one’s word over the others.” 

Momo pouts at that, defeated. Or at least that’s what she wants you to think. “Not even gonna let me persuade you into changing your mind?” 

“Depends.” You’re lazily holding her ass, probably on purpose. Every move from this point on won’t be managed by your words. Now that your mind is made up and there’s nothing left to say. “What’s in it for me?” 

She unties the ribbon of her robe, and lets it fall onto the floor. 

There’s a lot of questions as to why you did what you did - why you keep doing it. Why you spend a good amount of your schedule doing the devil’s work with every sin committed enough to place you at the top of his list. She’s partly the reason you’ve been in this position over and over and over. A recurrence of the sweet libations offered by her are an addiction of their own. Her words are one thing. Her body- 

(Well, let’s just say that the company knew what they were doing when she flew out to do this gig.) 

She’s coated in grey with leopard prints canvasing the fabric. Most of the seams are at the right tightness that forms her silhouette in curves you didn’t think were possible. You note the second layer beneath and a nice contrast of that fluffy pink bra on her chest - where the small gems were neatly placed and the pendant is buried right at her cleavage. 

Oh, she’s model material for sure. There’s no denying that. You don’t need to think back on all the brands proffering for her signature. The selling point was pretty much the given factor. 

You’re no different than any other person cordially invited to fashion week. With the observing eyes showing and the parted mouth as a plus. 

Momo looks the part: the fuckable girl everybody wants. 

Though, you’re a cut above the rest, because you’re the only one who knows her well. 

(How much she likes it when you fuck her rough, pull her hair back and into the mattress, pin her arms on the wall trying to brace the impact of your cock pushing up her cunt; disregard her for anything else. A personal toy for your own disposal. The late night booty call you’ll always make time for. The girl who’ll match beat for beat at everything you dish out. She knows no matter how hard you try, there’s a piece of you that belongs to her.)

“Well?” asks Momo, wiggling her body in your hands. “Any first impressions?” 

“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” you say, enamored, tapping the groove on beneath her bottom by reflex. “Like they really didn’t have to capitalize on your ass like this-” 

“Bless the stylists,” she replies, lowering herself slightly so only your eyes are full of her cleavage. “Bonus goes to the cameras for getting the angles right.” 

“Now I’m starting to wonder-” 

“How could a wonderful girl like me be able to pull off a look like this?” Momo laughs, cradling your head as you breathe her tits in. A terrible habit, but it’s a natural instinct given the features. “I mean- Jihyo fits hers very well. And if you think back to Nayeon’s Louis Vuitton towel-” 

“I can go down the list over and over,” you say with a palm between her legs, pressing roughly; she seethes. “Though, I’m off the clock currently.” 

“I figured, but-” she chuckles, reaching over for her phone while you observe her movements. 

The screen lights up, eyes darting up and down with record pace. A part of you assumes that she’s sending a message to one of the other girls you work with as a way to stir the pot and spice up the competition- maybe. Yet her lip-biting grin is impossible to interpret. 

“-thought I might show you this.” 

For a better lack of response: you’re just left speechless. Then, you helplessly look up as she wiggles the phone in her hand, eyes and mouth sharing the same smirk. “Awwww. What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?!” “I’ve been reduced to staring at this point.” 

“As you should,” says Momo, beaming with victory. “Haven’t you been getting my texts?” 

“You’re aware of my policy when I’m working: permanently on do not disturb.” 

By punishment: Momo lays claim at the scene of the crime with her lips. Normally, she would bend to your will, take her time; usually, that’s not her style, but that soft side is an exclusivity on days where she can let her walls crumble for a rare moment. Her lips are always sweet, carrying the kind of kisses that would sweep anyone off their feet or rewire their brain. Though, there’s a sense of urgency behind this, as if it was something long overdue. 

Her arms slither around your neck, straddling your thigh. You hold her close with one arm while the other acts as a support behind you, leaning back. 

She smiles into it, taking ownership. You try to utter a response but it’s swallowed down your throat and her fingers claw deep into the scalp. There’s only one way where this was going: one of you is going to be ruined by the other. 

Momo pulls your lip - a slight pinch with her teeth, and your hand shoots for her hip as a sign of restraint. Drawing back with lidded eyes; the gentle swipe of her tongue, savoring the taste. The grasp of your fingers doesn’t faze her at all. 

“Holding yourself back, are we?” She asks, fanning her breath across your sloping cheek. Ghosting your head while her arms press inward - pushing up her tits. “I thought you were able to handle this-” 

“Your questions aren’t gonna flatter me, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” says Momo, settling on top of your hips, inhaling sharply as the pressure from the seat of your pants pulls her head back. “God- you’re gonna drive me insane if you don’t get your fucking bottoms off right now-” 

You help her arms up, motion them to the straps of her outfit. She lowers the first layer below her tits; that neat, pink push-up bra would leave you ogling for hours if she just had that by itself. Thankfully, she’s got the bodysuit to her waist, ruffling her hair nicely to her shoulders with a lean to the right. 

An opening for the next move: kissing her neck. To that, she presses you in while her other hand grasps her left breast, grinding against your hips while the shivers work their way up her body. 

“So eager- and forward,” she breathes, airing a laugh. “Fuck, I’m jealous of Dahyun when you touch her the way you’re touching me-” 

You bury your nose into her cleavage, lick the beauty mark above her left tit. Looking up earnestly. 

Momo holds an expression over you. Intrigue, for one. Teetering deeper into insanity, as another. Seeing her slack mouth is enough to tell you she couldn’t comprehend just how much missing you had been driving her crazy. She winces when you’re happily biting away at her skin. 

“Wait.” 

The puckering pop of your lips echoes into the walls of the room. 

Momo freezes for a second, which isn’t like her. A smirk breaks from the corner of your lip while you stare up, and she gets thrown off by the person hidden deep beneath your eyes. 

Gyrating her hips to yours, her mouth twitches. You lick your lip. Anticipating the next move. 

“This poor kitty too stunned to speak?” You ask. 

The girl in your lap hovers a hand above your face, her thumb tapping your lip. This is the kind of power that women dream of over a man. It’s one of the few moments that rewires brain chemistry for a second. You lick the pad of her thumb and watch as her brows arch in surprise. 

“I could never tell if you right now is for show or it’s actually for the things I want you to do to me,” says Momo, eyes trained when her thumb slips between your lips, unable to move from this position. “Jeez. It’s actually like- really bad. How dangerous you can be.” 

“It isn’t just me,” you say. 

“No I know, but-” and Momo is caught of guard when you’re catching her off guard with the next move: pulling from the neck and getting those perfect lips of her in the right place - where they belong - with more reverence into the feel and every audible smack getting more addicting than the last. Her palm rests on your cheek and your hand slides down the firm line of her back, stopping at the one of the two dimples right above her ass. It’s an unrefined tension, a forsaken oath left unspoken; the mere infidelity of it should be enough to make you single after this. Though, Momo sucks on your lower lip and you’re sure that the pit in your stomach deepens; a cable waiting to snap; when it does, it’ll flare up every nerve end in your body, making the synapses grow more desperate. 

“But what?” It’s a taunt, and it’s all certain this girl is going to lose it. 

“You’re never easy,” she sighs, in a gruff tone that rolls nicely with her register in all the things sultry and begging for more. Her nails scratch the ends of hair behind your neck. “It hasn’t even been that long since our last meeting and you’re driving me insane.” 

Your hand makes its way down her bodysuit in response to her rocking body as her mouth stays to your neck. The fabric’s gotten more damp compared to a few minutes ago, but the friction of your fingers will soon add to that. It’s similar to operating through fog - figuring out where her cute little clit is and when you guess the general area: right above the wetness, you press down  and Momo sighs in relief. 

“Haven’t even got to the best part yet,” you groan, “and you’re already dripping before this is even off.” 

“It isn’t just me,” Momo says in a subtle callback. She lowers the clothing to her waist, revealing that same pink, fluffy bra. Her hand goes back, unclipping it in this well-practiced party trick. You’re left staring again when she pulls it from the middle band and out, letting it fall to the ground. At the same time, your tongue immediately darts for her nipple. “I can tell you’ve been wanting this too-” 

With little control she had left, Momo slips your hand inside her body suit in guidance, where your fingertips swipe against her folds, and that makes you notice one thing: 

“No panties during the runway performance? Oh you had this planned all along, huh?” 

Momo bears no response, a crack in her facade when your mouth stays on her breast and keeps your fingers still to her shifting hips. She’s already gotten you this close away from Dahyun that every second spent with you is an advantage. 

Her whole body shivers in pleasure. The only language she can speak at this time is in tongues, mixed with sighs and pants and pleas and more moans. 

You’ve got your whole hand between her legs beneath the bodysuit, and how she wished it was your mouth instead, but she’ll be content with just this. These circling fingers and slipping between her folds, her thighs press against yours, longing for that release. 

As if she deliberately planned (which is unlikely, but the possibility isn’t entirely out of the question) for you to come all this way to see her. With that cryptic text and that extremely fuckable outfit that the stylists have blessed her in. But you know well that Momo (most of the time) doesn’t think things through. For this instance, you’re convinced that has. 

“Please, baby. More-” she begs. And her yelp is a nice noise to her when you bite on her nipple. 

“I’m gonna-” 

“Mhm?” 

“You’re gonna make me fucking cum-” 

The desperation rises with her body, only staying with your gravity and grasp on her. Her mind can’t keep up with your efforts. Once the moment of bliss finally strikes through her body, she hardly contains the sensation tearing through her body. 

Momo’s cunt quivers as she cums on your fingers, seething a breath between her teeth when the butt of your palm grinds against her sensitive clit. Her forehead rests on the top of yours as she hunches forward, prolonging the orgasm you’ve gifted her. 

“Look into my eyes, Momo.” You order. “I wanna see my pretty girl’s face after cumming.” 

She lifts her head- slightly. Oh, you know she’ll listen to the praise when she deserves it. This girl heaving and parting her mouth low as she feels your fingers slip inside for more fun. Momo’s quick to get her arms wrapped around your head, suffocating you with her tits. Not that you’re complaining, of course. But her weight might tip you over if you get caught in the moment. 

Then, you noticed she hasn’t complied with the instruction. Which earned her a slap to her thigh, and her skin newly marked red. 

“Does my slut have to be told what to do again?” You tell her, harshly kissing her neck and leaving an obvious bruise with your teeth. 

Momo, as eager to inflate that being shrouded deep in your mind, nursing that ego. She listens. 

There’s this state of elation that’s experienced with her, how much control you’re willing to give her with cuffs around your wrists, only to switch it around and have a makeshift bind made with your belt with her hands behind her back as you pound her into the mattress. Or, slapping her face with fingers wrapped to her neck. It can get raw, then sensitive: she’s a walking sex magnet and it wouldn’t take much for you to bury your cock deep into her wanting, open cunt in the exact way she wants you to. 

There’s a keepsake in that regard. As fucked up as it may be. 

That street goes both ways. 

“Baby- mmmm, fuck.” A rasping Momo breathes, trying to stay composed as you mark up her neck. Lathering up a layer of spit on her porcelain skin, mixed with the blemishes of reddish pink spread across her chest. “I can’t wait anymore.” 

“Use your words, bun,” you play into the exchange, hushing her with another assault of love-bitten kisses. 

She cups your face, biting her lower lip. You see her eyes flick back to the head of the bed. For a second, you’d want to follow her words - her orders - but you’re reminded: she made you come to her. Now she has to work for her long awaited reward. 

“I thought you were capable of using your mouth to speak, hon.” You taunt, lightly grabbing her chin and pulling her closer. “Unless you’re trying to use that mouth for something else.” 

“Yes. Yes,” answers a needy Momo. “If you let me- I can only say please-” 

“Then get on the bed.” Is what you tell her. 

You’ve never seen Momo’s eyes light up with so much excitement before. Then again, you’ve caught that same spark in many moments: like the first time she lured you away from Dahyun and had you moaning her name not long after. It should’ve been the last time, too. Then, it started to turn into a pastime. 

She shifts from your lap to the front of the bed. Each movement of her arms and legs, so meticulous and fluid which fit her dancing appearance. Resting nicely on her stomach and head perched to her elbows. The back of her bodysuit is in view from above, and it highlights her ass exceptionally. You can’t help but stare again. 

“Someone’s been waiting.” 

“Can’t you tell?” Momo asks, sticking her tongue out. “It was all I could think about earlier.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“I’m serious!” She exclaims, leaning forward and burying her nose against the fly, inhaling. “Besides, you were getting hard while I was grinding earlier. And god I can even catch the smell. Your pants aren’t even off yet.” 

“Mind giving me a hand, sweetheart?” 

Momo, dutiful as ever, reaches for the seat of your pants as you get your hands to the belt buckle. Like a practiced duet between two performers: she’s got your zipper between her teeth and her shimmering eyes can be seen in the dimmed hotel lights. 

One layer, then the next. You keep your hands to Momo’s as she bites your waistband and pulls it down after. With your cock springing out to her cheek, brushing the tip of her nose to the underside and lowering her eyelids as she lets her face get the feel for it. 

“Finally,” she breathes, thoroughly examining the length. Her personal (and favorite) toy. You can recount the number of stories she’s told you, fantasizing how much you wreck her with this one ‘charm’. It’s too known; all too well. 

The tip of her tongue sweeps the base, and you feel those plump lips kiss a vein. On varying occasions, Momo would get right into it, forcing your cock deep into her throat and letting you fill that hole for your own pleasure. Though tonight, she wanted to savor what she’d been missing out on for the past couple weeks. Despite being the unlikeliest characteristic, Momo takes you by surprise again and again. 

Her lips and tongue only spare you a mere second or two before they’re back on the skin of your shaft. Coating it with her spit and getting you wanting for more.  

Soon, she’s got the lovely duo of her finger and thumb, barely wrapping the root. You let go of her other hand and she cradles your balls. Heavy, you hear her say, but most of it is muffled as she presses a nose right at the middle ridge. 

God, it’s an act in reverence. Your knees buckle at the weight of her touch. She eggs on with the teasing: only slipping the head of your cock between those thick, pouty lips and letting the tip of her tongue slash the underside that straightens the length on reflex. Momo’s edged you like this before, in a litmus test of sorts. Always wanting to try new things and each and every single of them has nearly killed you (and her both) in the process. 

“Momo-” you slip, palming her cheek as she sucks harshly on the underline. “We’ll be here all night if you keep this up.” 

“That’s the plan,” she laughs, grazing her teeth with that damned smile. Legimately: fuck her. And you will. “Just wanted to show you how much I missed my toy.” 

“You’ve got a problem.” 

The girl at your cock spits on it. “Could say the same thing to you.” 

You hold her jaw, guiding the cock with her hand attached to the right angle. “Shh,” you coo, biting your lip because the mere thought of holding back would only make it worse. “Be a good girl and open up for me.” At this point, Momo makes a gaze when she looks up, and it’s a similar gaze that she has for concept teasers: the blown-out-smoky-eyes kind of expression, like she’s aware of the effect she has on people. The ungodly things that they would do to get a girl like her in this position. Here’s the worst part of it all: she’s right between your legs and fingertips, and she smirks. Lowering her jaw - and only her jaw. 

Slotting your cock into her slack mouth is utter perfection. The girl gags for a second; expected, and you adjust with a slight pull back out. Adjusting her head, she sleeves your cock into her throat again, and it’s effortless. 

Her hands are back to the sides of your thighs, nose to your groin. The sound she emits from her vocal chords onto your cock is heavenly. A struggle of breath mixed with a cough, which only led to soaking the length more with spit. 

You watch her take her time getting used to your length. Holding your breath, flexing the muscles in your stomach. She wants to make sure the tip of your cock is tucked into the deepest part of her mouth, to the point where the rest of the room fades toward blackness, and Momo’s head is the only thing you see in your blurred vision. Yet she looks up, dragging your tip against the inside of her cheek and it’s an image you want to treasure forever. 

Bless this girl and her practice; the gag-reflex is practically nonexistent. Sliding you out of her mouth before she finally lets her mouth do the rest of the work. 

She hums when your fingers comb her hair in purchase, adding the bonus of gripping where you know her preferred tension. A heavy sigh passes your lips when her tongue sweeps the underside, right where the flick meets the tip of your balls. “My god, Momo. Fuck- just like that,” you rasp, barely keeping it together as your hips buck forward. 

Momo gasps for air, taking your shaft and slapping the weeping tip across her wet lips. “Hmm I know you’ve been missing this too. I just can’t help it. You have the greatest cock I have ever seen.” 

Cradling her head, she takes care of the rest as she holds you back in her salivating mouth. If the heat was already this good. You could start to imagine how it would feel to be wrapped around her walls in the next few minutes. But for now, the tension and release of her throat contracting and her clenching tongue is good enough. The woman’s brows knead in determination, focused on massaging your cock in the back of her throat. 

The only thing that’s keeping you standing is the foot of the bed against your knees. Makes you stand against the tide of Momo’s perfect mouth. She’s having all the fun in the world, keeping her lips where you want them to be and ruining you from the inside out. It’s a practiced rhythm, and you’re palming her neck and cheek; feel the graze of her nose to your waist in a seamless motion. 

“Good slut,” you hiss, keeping her head in after there’s an audible click in her throat. There’s that tongue again, flicking in all the ways you love and like. 

“Mmfmhf.” 

Momo taps your thighs, granting her the ability to breathe again. A thread of spit forms from your tip connecting to her upper lip. She licks it off along with your soaked cock. You discard your blazer and the rest of your dress shirt underneath, toss it off aside for her to wear once all of this is over. 

“You’re not done yet, are you-” 

She shuts you up with her throat begging for more, burying your cock once more and gripping your thighs ferociously. You hear her mumble a sentence of sorts along the lines of ‘i’m not letting you relax just yet’ but all could be heard is the sloppy suck-licked mixture of her lips and tongue, moaning over your length that spikes the nerves in your muscles. 

“Mo-” you barely get out of saying, but Momo mumbles a ‘mhm’ instead and she’s nearly getting you there. “Your fucking mouth, I swear to god-” 

The hums and slurps only get louder. 

She might just siphon the fun out of this if she doesn’t stop.

And the worst part of it all? 

She keeps going. 

You grip her jaw and drag yourself out of her face. In doing so, you huff at the graze of her teeth, resisting the slip out to the best of her ability. She loses; you twitch as the tip hits the pad of her tongue and bottom lip, and she smirks. 

Her head lowers right beneath your cock. Fixated on the bead of precum peaking at the slit. You see her eyes cross, and she doesn’t stop smiling at the sight of it. Licking it clean off as a small appetizer for her (eventual) hard-earned reward. 

“You taste good,” she praises, and you stop her from treating her mouth to your balls. 

“I’m done going by your way,” you tell her, patting her cheek to which she bites her lip at the feeling. 

“Party pooper. You were enjoying it. I saw your face. How much you missed my filthy mouth.” 

“That fucking mouth of yours will kill someone if you don’t control yourself.” 

“Why would I have control in the first place?” Momo asks, closely matching your height as she brings herself to her knees on the mattress. “I’d rather have no restraint if it brings out the best in people, no?” 

You clutch her neck again, and her hand clasps your wrist. Keeping it there. “You’ve got a fucked up sense of character.” 

“Sana calls you ‘daddy’ from time to time,” she replies. “Do you want me to start calling you that as well? Or what are you gonna do about it?” 

Momo brings her face closer to yours, just inches away from your lips. Your hand is still attached to her throat. The proximity can lead to another kiss, and it almost gets there - almost. But you push her back to the bed, tug the makeshift leash which is one of her legs, turn her around so her backside is now to your hips. That remarkable ass is all you want to see and hold for days. 

“I think I know what I have to do to knock some sense into you,” you say, feeling out the fabric of her bodysuit, stopping at a spot right close to where her seeping cunt resides. She seethes at the feeling of your fingernails finding a hold in the ridges, yelping at the tear of threads that reveal another hole for you to fill. 

But it’s met with another surprise-

“C’mon Momo,” you chuckle in disbelief, not because of the image that’s in your eyes, but the fact that she would be the kind of person that would go to such lengths to do it. “You’re telling me you had a buttplug up your ass during the entire performance?” 

While you’re trying to come to grips with the sight of her perfect, pretty pink cunt, it’s highlighted with an obvious object protruding Momo’s ass cheeks right above it ; shining with a glossy metallic finish, but it’s Momo-ified to her standards: molded into a heart with her member color of dark pink. 

Gratuitously fucked up, could be the best way to describe this girl. 

“I wanted to try it out,” Momo responds, wiggling her ass in front of your cock. Her back arches deep as her arms splay flat on the covers. “Nayeon made a bet with me and I lost. That was punishment.” She looks over her shoulder and flicks her hips up and down. A tease that goes on endlessly. “I can see the gears turning in your head, lover boy.” 

You puff your cheeks and pull a flat-lipped expression. 

“I was gonna keep sending you pictures to spite you. Because you never see them, anyway. Dahyun has you wrapped around her finger as it is.” 

“Well then,” you say as you take a knee, eyes full of Momo’s hands on her ass, spreading her plugged pucker and cunt. It’s a gratifying art to admire. The girls you oversee - each of the nine bringing their own charm to the table, masterfully created and tilting your head in angles where your neck might break through all of the melting. She shifts her hips side to side with your fingers attached - you never want to let go. “Consider you have my full attention.” 

“Then what are you waiting for-” she spits midway when your tongue gets that first, satisfying lick of her folds. “Ugh. Fucking finally.” 

The mere thought of Momo in this state is pure debauchery. None of that could be exemplified with every lap your mouth makes to her sweet pussy. Like she’s a forbidden apple in the Garden of Eden and you can’t help but submit to that low saccharine tone she speaks in: praising and moaning one moment, cursing your being the next if she doesn’t get what she wants. 

“For the record,” you're breathing hot over her cunt, biting one of her folds as another taunt. “You rode my face the last time you had a fashion schedule.” 

Momo rolls her head around, planted to the comforter. “Yeah, and I had your cock in my hand as a punishment. What about it?” 

Your nose fills the space, and the tip of your tongue messes with her clit. She curses again, loudly. Her attitude unravels more and more by the second. It could be enough, but it isn’t. 

“How many more times can you say ‘fuck’ in a single sitting, hm? Think you can hold it together while I split you apart?” 

“Oh please.” She looks over her shoulder; the curve on her spine only curls further. “I don’t need to answer that for you.” 

Right when she tries to rise from the bed, you’re quick to push her back down; take the reins in her hair, and pull. Momo’s eyes flutter in surprise, but it can be easily read that it’s all an act of what she expected of you. 

“What does my perfect whore want from me?” 

“To bend me over-” followed by an audible slap on her ass, where the first mark of red forms. “And fuck me- fuck me full, again and again. Make me your cumdump and mess up this pretty pussy with your cock.” 

God. 

God help you. 

God help her. 

Everything about her is a calling you fail to ignore. 

You rest the head of your cock underneath her weeping entrance. She’s close, so close. The restraint is eating away at both of you for holding back still. 

Until you carefully weather the worry away, pushing your tip past that first press of her folds. Watching the line of her shoulders tense even tighter at the first thrust. Drag back for good measure, get your bare length wet and ready with her slick, and push harder the second time around. 

“Fuck!” 

“My god,” you breathe, angle her ass higher at the press of her beck. “Tight.” 

Momo’s body follows on its own accord, her walls clenching tight around your shaft. You make do by spreading her legs wider, perch the hips at an angle where you can rut your cock in the deepest part of her cunt; figure out the precision first, then let it be sloppy after. The one-two combo of her ass and pussy will make up for the slack when your brain’s been reduced to mush and all there is to focus on is pounding her enough for the other guests to hear.

You lean forward, let your cock push itself to the hilt by her entrance, reach for her tit and pull. 

But the slide out is just as rewarding as thrusting back in. Every pleasurable inch almost makes you think twice on whether you want to take away this sensation from her. 

“Baby - ‘swear to god- fuck-” 

She shudders when your tip is nestled right between her puffy folds, gasping. Her whole ass wobbles. It’s incredible. 

“Atta girl,” you croon. Kissing the line of her back - everything else is blurry but she’s giving you the only lifeline you’ll ever need. 

There’s a moment of pride when you push back in again, hard. Momo’s head flicks back in whiplash. Writhing in the feeling a bit considering how long it’s been since she last took your cock, but it’ll come to grips sooner than you think - you know that much. 

Every impact you dish out is rebounded well with Momo’s bouncing pair of her cunt and ass moving in a staggered combo: her ass to your hips with her pussy following the next second. You hear her swallow more air as an attempt to shelter the moan rumbling in her throat, but it’s pointless. The anchor your hands have to her hips, resting in the groove where the tops of her thighs meet keeps you in place - a press that pushes her deeper into the mattress beneath. A maneuver that is perfected when Momo’s face is looking down, and her ass is offered up to you; grazing her walls to that sweet spot where the nerves throb a little more roughly. 

“Can’t- can’t. ‘m gonna- fucking- sweetie-” 

“I’ve got you. I’m here,” you mouth into her shoulder blade. There’s only one thing she wanted you to do: to use her. A far cry in the form of a cryptic message and all you could think about was her immaculate figure and curves flaunted for everyone to see, but she’s yours. Oh, she’s so yours. 

Your hand can only support you so much, so the next option to resort on is hooking to her waist, listening to the thick groan when the angle doesn’t change and you’re still rucking that sweet spot where you’ve figuratively killed her over and over. Her knees are about to give too; the press of her ass on your cock makes you throb harder. 

Momo’s hand reaches for your neck, sobbing. There’s a laugh mixed into that as well. You can tell her eyes are closed and mind is blown, fucked. 

“Like this,” she says, gritting her teeth when you suddenly slow the pace, give her these singular thrusts of your hips: (not) nice and slow. “Fucking use my pussy like this.” 

“Yeah? Is this what you wanted?” You manage, caught off guard as her body twists, kissing your lips. “Do you realize how good you look when you’re like that?” 

She goes limp, panting. You grind your cock against her walls slowly still; hands canvasing her back and waist, feeling out those same curves you’d want to kiss and lick until she tells you to stop. Then Momo mumbles into the duvet, “i know you love how my pussy takes your cock,” and all you give her is a sigh of disbelief.

You stop your movements as Momo does the work for you, pushing her ass back to your groin and overachieving with a similar wiggle from earlier. The next best thing you can get around by is cupping the swell of her ass, have the skin ripple before you meet her halfway and fuck upwards, watching your cock get coated with her essence even more. 

“It’s so fucking thick inside me- jeez.” Momo grits, and every curse she spits is more punctual than the last. “My perfect pussy good enough for you, pretty boy?” 

“That fucking mouth of yours,” you spit and your voice is coarse. Matching Momo’s antics. 

“Then fuck me more,” she tells you, lips slipping against your cheek. The skin contact is way past electric - getting more and more desperate. “Want you to own this cunt - ‘cause it’s all yours.” 

“You have no idea,” and this comes after you bury your dick in the hottest part inside her, make her body stiffen and you’re pushing her further into the mattress. “How absurd you are- this fuckhole, Momo. My god-” 

At this point, the front of her body is flushed with the comforter, pinning. An angle where the pressure around your shaft is just at the right level where every slip and drag back would be enough to drop a load inside - it’ll happen, but you struggle to believe how much she clenches even tighter. 

“Baby,” breathes Momo. There isn’t much she can do in this position, feeling her cunt full of your cock. 

Frankly, she just has to lay there like a good slut. You’re telling her this as the pace gets more primal, reduced to a pure instinct. Momo’s eyes meet yours for a quick second: blown out and past the threshold of the first of many orgasms you’ve fucked her through. 

Only to watch her hide and muffle her voice into the pillow. This version of Momo is where you like her best. Belittled and disregarded as a pure vessel of pleasure. Get off with her holes and claim her for the night before reality sets in come the next daylight. 

Her moans and sighs clash inconsistently. Your hand flushes with hers as it grips the covers. “So good; so fucking good - I can’t believe this cock isn’t even mine. What the fuck - you selfish motherfucker. Fucking me like you mean it because it’s too addicting to forget-” 

Well, yes. 

She’s right. 

“My lovely doll getting her pussy stretched out? Cute.” And your mind is trailing to a knife’s edge, watch as a layer of white forms on the top of your cock. Giving you more finesse into the slip in and out in one continuous flow. “You’re just saying nonsense, hun.” 

“Please- please-” 

She’s beyond savoring the feeling. The only reason you’re here in the first place was to get her off. Yet that sword is piercing her as it is the same for you. 

“Breathe for me, Mo,” you murmur, licking her ear. “Lemme fuck this cunt for you, okay? Relax.” 

Momo’s hand places yours to her face, sucking on a finger to satiate her heaving exhales. Her mouth parts with the tilt up and hook to her neck. “Need you, need your cum. Please, baby. It’s yours. So yours. This fucking cunt is all yours.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Want you to burst,” she sputters. On the precipice of falling off that edge even more. 

Suddenly, you stare at Momo’s back as the rest of her body tenses, reaching that high. The shrieks she makes aren't like her, but that’s all credit to your hard work. You notice the buttplug again, just right in the middle where it covers her puckered asshole, blocking it. She tenses even more when you press on it, and her whole figure just spazzes out of control. 

“Fu-fuck! Right there! Right there, right there, right there-” 

“Where should I-” 

Momo grabs your arm as her cunt’s bottomed out; the flex of your embedded cock could only prolong the release as much as it could, and the seized muscles in your hips and legs keeps you still. “Inside,” she whispers, “nowhere else.” 

But- 

You have other ideas. 

In a fast act, you pull the buttplug out of Momo’s ass. Her hole swollen and opened up well once it was deprived of metal bead that she’s been hiding. You pull your cock and aim it at the spot above; the first rope going through and the second immediately after. Part of your brain short-circuts and snaps back into consciousness as your load gets pumped into her uncovered asshole. 

“Oh my god,” Momo gasps in pure disbelief, biting her lip and humming at the threads of white being plastered in her asscheeks. “You dirty fucking boy,” she says coyly. 

You gaze on her face and watch the flush of pink come back to her, then fixated on the sudden wave of heat all over the head of your cock, trying to stay the course in each sinking inch as Momo’s ass takes in all the length. You’re leaking white from the tip still, and it’s equally cruel when you’re spreading her pussy lips below and circling it to overstimulate. 

“Fuck- Momo. Your ass - holy shit.” 

“Can’t help yourself to gape me,” she shudders. “Fucking your cum into my perfect little ass; never wanting to pull out?” 

But your brain can only handle so much of the new sensations to your nerves. Your cock is bathed in white, vanished into the lovely canvas of Momo’s irresistible ass. When you eventually slip your cock out of her ass (and press into her folds for good measure), your eyes kind of just- stay there as the first glob leaks out of her cheeks, dripping onto the covers. 

Momo lays there, zoning out as you fall right next to her on the bed, fingers grazing the tip of her chin. “You - have got serious issues.” 

She laughs at you. “Yeah, but what else is new?” Kissing one of your knuckles - maybe two. You’ve got a thumb to her plump lips and there isn’t really anything else left to say about it. “I don’t mean what I say when you’re railing me from behind.” 

“Slut,” is what you end with. 

“Oh but you love me.” 

–

(In standard Momo fashion: 

You’re hiding a smile when she pushes you out of the hotel room. Staring at your disheveled hair and rumpled dress shirt with your blazer hung to your shoulder. She didn’t even bother tying up that robe, and the tits and waist are like another pair of eyes lasering you as well. 

“What if someone sees you like that?” 

“What if they see us?” Momo huffs, unimpressed. “That article is gonna burn one of our careers and it is for damn sure it isn’t yours.” 

Looking around, there’s no one to be seen down the long winding hallway. “Be lucky that no one’s watching.” 

“Don’t fucking jinx it?” 

“Only saying it if you want to see me again.”

Momo, being Momo, walks out on her tiptoes. She’s good at faking the part of being the calm-hearted, pretty girl where you know it’s completely the opposite. You’ve told her many times. Everyone’s told her the exact same thing - though she does it anyway. 

She lifts herself up to kiss your lips. No need for her nor your hands as they’re bound to your back, since she’s got that natural rule to always be gravitated by you.

“I could’ve sworn I sent you flowers before the show, no?” 

The girl pouts, humming a long tone. “I’m just messing with you. Of course we did.” 

“Just making sure,” you smile.

Momo goes for one more kiss - because she can’t help herself. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” 

You nod, because the assurance is more sobering than the guilt. Even with the girl who has the biggest doe eyes you’ve ever laid on, she still manages to create some sort of lifeline: 

“Thanks for coming over. And-” right as she steps back into the room for the night, there’s a pause with her hand on the door. As if there was something holding her back. To which she says: 

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”