Routine

“Yo!”

You slam her down to the ground so hard the impact makes her go up into the air before you give her a kick to the back and she’s falling, reeling from the hits, desperately trying to steady herself because she knows that this is spiraling into something she can’t control, something that can make her lose.

And she absolutely despises losing.

But you don’t let her. Not when this is a chance at triumph. At claiming the crown that was rightfully yours. At winning.

So you jump, diving down, chasing her into the abyss to send a dropkick that connects to her stomach, the air in her lungs forcefully exhaled as she flies into the air once more, body out cold, acceptance on her face as she’s been beaten.

But you won’t leave it at that. You wanted, no, needed to be sure that you’ve won this fight because you’re petty like that, wanting to humiliate her, to set the tone for your next duel.

That’s why when you throw this insane left hook that hits her right in the face, absolutely rocking her shit, you feel the pressure in your chest gone, replaced by this intense joy that gets you to close your eyes and smile in bliss as one word rings out.

“Game!”

—

“And that,” You’re giving finger-guns in her direction. “Is a win for me.”

Sakura’s shaking her head, placing down her controller and giving you an exaggerated set of claps. “Good for you, just need to beat me-” She’s glancing down at your makeshift scoreboard, composed of chips stacked up on two plates. “-two more times to even it out.”

Ever since Chaewon re-debuted in Le Sserafim and introduced you to Sakura, who immediately found out that you also played video games on an unhealthy level– Probably a lot more than her–this has been the norm between you two, every Saturday, five on the dot, always in your apartment.

It was awkward at first, when she sent a text saying that she’ll be coming over to, and you quote: ”Beat your ass in this new fighting game.” That awkwardness became a lot more apparent when she did come over, knocking on your door, letting herself in, console in hand asking where the TV was.

You thought she’d be all talk, so you let her set it all up while you grabbed some drinks and snacks since you might as well be polite, and came back to her handing you a controller and telling you to choose your fighter.

She then proceeds to pick this weird looking wrestling lion and grab-combos you into the next round, forcing you to forgo any sort of discomfort between the two of you and just focus on winning.

Definitely wasn’t because your ego took a hit, no.

You spend the next few hours beating the shit out of each other with a Bruce Lee wannabe, an American monk, a robot that self-implodes, and a lot more ridiculous characters before you took a break to satiate human needs, like food.

And bulgogi? That’s the bomb.

It was after that where you two started to be more than mere acquaintances that met through a mutual friend, instead becoming trusted gaming buddies who meet up every week to sit back, attempt to relax when playing games with Sakura, and actually relax after.

It’s fun, a good way to de-stress after long weekdays of dance practices and programming, where you can tell her all about your dumbass boss that keeps piling on work mid-sprint, and where she can tell you how pissed she was when she woke up early for a photoshoot that was rescheduled last minute.

You didn’t notice things changing into something more intimate until Chaewon brought it up over a call once.

“So when is Unnie gonna move in?” Chaewon’s voice rings out of your phone as you’re busying yourself with the food you’ll be eating when Sakura inevitably comes by.

“She’s not.”

“It definitely feels like it.” She’s trying to instigate something with this, you’re pretty sure. “You bought a new closet almost exclusively to store the amount of clothes that she’s stacked up there.”

You stopped mid-swing of the knife, pausing, mind racing to think of an excuse because you don’t exactly have a defense for that one. Not when you bought it because your own closet was getting overrun with her clothes rather than yours.

And you didn’t even stop to think about whether you should or shouldn’t have bought that in the first place.

“So, is she moving in?”

“No, Chaewon.” Even you can hear the bullshit coming from your mouth. “She’s not.”

And when Sakura left to head back to her dorm that day was the day you finally stopped to notice all the things she’s left at your apartment, from the second closet full of her clothes, to the toothbrush and makeup that she leaves on your bathroom counter, and in the way she acts like she’s at home whenever she visits you.

It forced you to rethink all the times she’s slept over when your sessions drag on late in the night, when she takes up residency in your guest room or straight up snoozes on your couch, leaving you alone with the task of cleaning up the mess you made together.

It feels oddly domestic when she sleeps in while you make breakfast in the morning, giving her the leftovers as takeout when she has to leave and you’re left waiting till the next weekend.

The thought of having that be a daily occurrence wasn’t uncomfortable by any means, you just didn’t know what it meant for you and her now that you started to realize everythin-

“Hey!” Sakura’s smirking, snapping her fingers in front of your face. “Last one got you tired already?”

“Not a chance.” You hit back, trying to hide the fact that you were thinking of her by hitting the ‘Choose Character’ option on the screen. “Still gotta even out the score.”

And she’s rolling her eyes as she laughs. “You seriously think you can catch up?”

“I think,” You’re confident, so sure of yourself, the high from last round’s win coming back in full force. “I can beat you -” A finger pointed. “-three times in a row.”

“Yeah?” She’s leaning in, so close you can feel her breath on your face. “Is that a bet?” The innocence in her smile didn’t feel real, and when she sees you hesitate, she bites her lip in a way that causes alarm bells to go off in your head, and that’s when you start to crumble.

“Yeah.” You’re stuttering, your composure gone, wrecked, left fumbling, so you decide to stare back at the screen to choose your fighter and avoid looking anywhere near her. “Set the rules Kkura.”

“Alright.” She’s pulling back, giggling, like she’s been waiting for this moment for so, so long. “Loser has to do anything the winner wants for the night.”

You freeze. Your head turns, Sakura’s eyes on you, full of mischief, those lips grinning, and you don’t know what the hell she’s saying-

“What?” Your mouth moves out of reflex, automatic, brain trying to catch up with what she said and she’s laughing again, finally deciding to face the screen to choose her character.

“What?” She repeats with a deeper voice, clearly mocking you, trying to get you riled up, to get you to lose control. “Too much of a pussy, nerd?”

You let out a scoff, forearms resting on your thighs as your chest leans forward and select some angry dude with daddy issues as your fighter. “Oh, it’s on now.”

You’re so focused on the game that you didn’t even notice that Sakura was giving you a look that spells trouble.

—

The match started off normal enough.

She hits you with a combo, you hit back with your own, you two trade lives till you each have one left; It feels like any regular fighting match you two have, always down to the last punch, the last block, the last mistake either one of you make before you start up another round.

And this time, you made that mistake by not blocking her grab, allowing her to set up her set of moves on your fighter. She’s jabbing, kicking, your health bar getting lower and you’re already mentally preparing to do what she wants until she drops the combo.

Wait. What?

You sneak a glance at Sakura, who’s still facing the TV, looking like she wasn’t bothered by what she did. But you know her, all those months of playing different games and you’ve never once seen her drop any sort of combo without a reaction.

Yet here she is, a poker face replacing her usual bright reaction, hands still on her controller, fingers unmoving. And she’s just waiting. Just staring at the game, waiting for you to make the next move.

Your eyes look forward, you hear shuffling from your side except you’re too focused on your character, already mashing hits, your want to win overriding anything else and before you know it you hear the words “Game!” ring out of your speakers. And then you finally look back at Sakura to gloat but you can’t make the sound come out of your mouth because holy shit.

She’s a lot more closer to you, shoulders practically touching yours, coat off her body, thrown to the side, and you see her in only a tank top that hugs her chest, showing off a hint of cleavage and the skirt that’s just teasing you with what’s underneath; Your eyes are glued to her chest cause she’s not wearing a fucking bra seeing that there’s only one set of straps on her shoulders-

“Hey, nerd.” Sakura leans her slim frame in the doorway, eyes down on her phone. “Tits or ass?”

Your mouth opens. Then it closes. The cycle repeats. “This sounds like bait.”

She lets out a sigh and waves her phone at you. “The girls are fighting over whether or not tits or ass is better.”

“Uh-huh.” You squint, before going back to typing out an email on why you’re reverting back a piece of code. It’s also a good way to distract yourself from the question. “And why does my opinion matter?”

“We need a tie breaker since Kazuha and Yunjin are adamant on ass being better-” You can definitely see why they’d be on that side. “-and we didn’t want to keep this conversation going any more than it has to, so.” She shrugs and makes these jazz hands at you, making this a lot more funnier than it actually was. “What’s the verdict?”

“Jesus Christ…” You mutter out, pinching the bridge of your nose before swiveling your chair to face her. “Can’t I just say that both are great?”

“No cop-out answers.” Her fingers are ready to type out your answer, eyes showing a glint of anticipation. “Pick.”

“Fine.” An exasperated look. “Tits. Happy?”

“Gimme a reason and I will be.” The sound of her phone’s keyboard ring out of your room.

You groan, regret already settling in as you-“Because the visual overload of tits and a pretty face look nice.” You snap back to your laptop, the embarrassment from saying that to Sakura of all people making your ears burn. The fact that she’s laughing as she leaves stresses you out even more.

You are never going to live this down.

You will your eyes back up, trying to forget the fact that you were looking at her chest, so you focus on her hair that she recently dyed brown held up into a messy ponytail, on the eyeliner that makes her eyes look sharper, on her lips that are curled at the corners-

“Checking me out nerd?” She’s asking like she doesn’t know the effect she has on you, like she didn’t see your eyes roaming her body, like she didn’t see you stalking her like prey.

“No.” And you’re back to stuttering, back to avoiding her gaze like the little bitch that she’ll tell you that you are, trying and failing to center back at the bet you two have by trying to calm yourself and your hard-on down with deep breaths.

“It’s alright.” She shrugs, fingers pressing ‘Restart’ button and it’s loading back up again. “You can look all you want.” Suddenly her mouth’s on your ear, tits just about fucking your arm and she blows. “Maybe you can even touch if you win.”

She’s got your mind in all sorts of fucked that you don’t even realize that the next round’s begun. She’s already started throwing hands on the screen, trashing you all over the arena while you’re here trying to get your head back in the game, literally and figuratively.

By the time you’ve gotten your bearings back from Sakura existing next to you,she’s taken one of your lives, your character flying back into the arena and hers stopping to look at you. Taunting you, giving you a chance to fight back after you’ve mentally reset yourself.

And fight back you did. Doesn’t mean she’s gonna make it easy for you.

You’re in the middle of flinging her across the screen when you feel her shoulder brush yours, a whiff of her perfume dancing along your nose. It smelt familiar, but you’re too focused on winning to try to recall when you last got a trace of that scent.

When you manage to bump her down to her last life, she puts an elbow up on your shoulder, the sounds of buttons being smashed intensifying, along with it the smell of her perfume. It tasted sweet, fruity, with a hint of leather hiding underneath all of it-

“Which one’s better?” Sakura holds up two bottles, one red in the shape of a woman’s curves, another colored pink shaped like a heel.

“Better for what?” You’re cleaning up your living room, minutes after getting your ass handed to you in a racing game. “You’re going back to your dorm, Saku, not a show at Inkigayo.”

“Cause Kazuha wants to know what would smell better for her date tomorrow.” She hits back, shoving the heel-shaped bottle on your hands. “And you’re the only one I know that collects perfumes like they’re action figures.”

That wasn’t exactly a lie, with the way you have your perfumes strewn out across one of your bedroom desks, all of them for different occasions. “So try them out, nerd.”

“Alright, alright.” Chuckling, you spray it onto your wrist and pull it close to your nose. “This is girly as fuck.”

“No shit it’s girly as fuck, it’s a women’s perfume.” She’s rolling her eyes, pulling your wrist to smell it herself and immediately pulling away with a look of mild disgust. “Yeah that is girly as fuck.”

You hand her back the perfume and take the red one from her grasp, spraying it on your other wrist and sniffing. “A lot less girly, this one.”

Arms are crossed and eyes are narrowed at you. “Can you shut up about the girly stuff and actually give me a decent answer?”

“In a couple.” Now you’re the one rolling your eyes, alternating wrists to try and see whatever difference the two had because they smelt the same at first glance. Didn’t help that you’re not used to comparing women’s fragrances, since you are a guy and all that.

“Alright.” You grab both bottles and raise them up, the heel-shaped bottle higher. “This one is really girly, like sexy girly.” You give the bottle a little shake. “It’s fresh, a bit too powdery and sweet for my taste but not a deal breaker.” You put the bottle down on the table next to the empty cans of soft drinks you were about to throw out. “Overall, it’s a good option. Screams bold.”

You hold the curvy bottle in both hands, like you’re advertising a product in front of some big shot CEO. “Now this one-” You raise it up higher. “-is a bit similar to that, but a lot more mature, seductive, with the leather at the back of all the fruity-ness it has.”

Now both bottles are right next to each other, staring back at Sakura who’s still waiting for an actual answer. “So if it was me, you can tell Kazuha that-” You clap and point at the heel. “You pick this one if you want to wow the guy.” Then you point at the curvy bottle.

“You pick this one if you want to get fucked.”

“Game!”

Your character’s doing his victory pose, the soundtrack blaring out and the smell of her perfume that you picked out specifically for a date with a happy ending in mind still attacking your nostrils while the weight on your shoulder is heavier now.

You don’t want to look at her direction, not when she’s getting you with these small little things that she knows will drive you wild, so you reach out to the table in front of you in an attempt to cool off because your libido is at an all time high.

It sounded like a solid plan, until you hear your name being whispered out by Sakura–you hear it crystal clear–that causes you to throw the plan out the window because you turn your head and she’s right there.

Sakura’s arms are wrapped around yours, her chin on your shoulder and she’s got this smile that lights up her face, making you forget everything that’s happening between you two because she’s just so…stunning. Drop-dead gorgeous. An absolutely knockout of a woman-

“Another win for you.” Her voice, unusually soft compared to the usual teasing glint that it has, her gaze taking you in, like she was the one checking you out this time. Then it disappears, the grin you always see back in place, and she leans back to laugh.

“Guess I should step it up then.” She’s already moving, maneuvering the game to choose new characters for the both of you while you follow through on grabbing a drink, mind occupied with choosing who you’ll be using next.

So you take a few sips of your drink, counted to ten, picked a guy with long silver hair, and tried your best to put away the fact that this was becoming less of a bet and more like you’re being made to face the tension that’s slowly been rising over the months that Sakura has been meeting up with you under the guise of ‘gaming sessions’.

Now she’s forcing you to face it by using what you told her to her advantage, because she’s right next to you, wearing a top that’s on the verge of spilling her tits out because you told her you liked tits more, perfume applied meant to get her fucked because you told her it would, and it is working.

“Ready?” She clicks on the ‘Random’ map.

“For you to lose again?” You snark back. “Anytime.”

She chuckles, eyes twinkling, like she has another trick up her sleeve, and she acts. Propping her feet up onto the other end of the couch, she lays her head down on your lap, right next to your dick that you’ve been desperately trying to calm down.

And you’re spiraling once more, doing anything and everything to not let her know you have a hard-on because of her, from thinking of next week’s work, of how to set up your character’s combos, of when the last time you and Sakura were in this same exact position-

“Do you ever get lonely here?” Her head on your lap, her hair tangled on your hands, moving so gently, so soft, so soothing; It was relaxing, a change of pace from the regular program that you two always had.

It was always the same–she comes over, you two catch up a bit, play the game of the week, and have dinner. Then she’ll either get picked up by her manager or she sleeps over. It’s simple, routine, standard procedure between you and her.

This went on for the first few months that you’ve been hosting her, until she came over one time, earlier than usual. The keys rattle, the door swings, then you see her, shoulders slumped, eyes dim, body diving into yours.

You feel your shirt get wet, and you start moving on autopilot, holding her, comforting her, settling her down on the couch before she starts breaking down.

And you let her. You let her choke on the air before she breaks the dam that she’s built up, let her be this blubbering mess, let her give out these suffocating sobs. It was ugly, messy, and tissues will definitely be required but you didn’t move, didn’t speak, you were just…there.

You don’t know how long it’s been since she started bawling her eyes out or how long she’s been bottling this up; By the time she’s somewhat calmed down and her crying’s reduced to sniffling she’s moved from holding onto you for dear life to being in your lap, using the sleeve of your sweater as a makeshift tissue.

“Sometimes.” You let out, and you’re surprised at how honest you are with her. It was always light, teasing, fun between you two, never delving into the thoughts that occasionally lingered whenever Sakura would leave every weekend.

Didn’t want to make it complicated. For her or for you, well, you don’t have an answer for that.

“But I guess that’s why I play video games all the time.” You continue, brushing a hand on her bangs, showing a puffy, red, damp face. “Gives me new imaginary friends every other day.” And now you’re joking, hoping to lighten the mood, to cheer her up, maybe even to keep things uncomplicated between you two.

She lets out this weepy, shy laugh. “You are such a fucking nerd.” She stammers out in between sobs, hiding herself further into your lap. “But you’re my nerd-” She blows air through her nose, gaze staring back up at you. “-so, thanks.” And it’s the first time she’s smiled at you like that.

Lovely. Peaceful. Genuine.

Suddenly complicated didn’t feel like a bad option now.

“You alright?” Sakura’s pulling you back from the memory, back to the present, back to pretending that her head’s not right next to your cock. “Gotta give your A-game if you want to win the bet.” She chimes, shifting to get more comfortable on your lap, like it was made just for her.

Right. The bet.

“Loser has to do anything the winner wants for the night.”

The game begins.

Your fingers were moving on instinct, weeks of playing this character ingrained in your mind as you play the way that you would normally do, space out the attacks, punish whiffs, try not to die while you’re at it. It was safe, calculated, always waiting for the right time and the right place to hit her.

But your mind’s not fully in the game, always rounding back to her. To Miyawaki Sakura. You are trying to keep things simple, friendly between you two. It was kind of an unspoken rule you have for her knowing that she’s an idol, someone leagues above you, someone you cannot and should not get involved with for her sake.

Maybe even for yours because you didn’t want to make things messy. God knows how weird that would get because someone–her–didn’t feel the same way.

The sounds of the game blast through the speakers; You don’t hear it. She’s up one life to yours, hitting you with intricate combos that would take weeks–months–of practice. She pulls them off flawlessly.

Fight or Flight responses kick in your brain, one because you’re fighting back, reaching deep in your bag for moves that she hasn’t seen you do yet. Another because of her simply being right next to you.

Because she doesn’t want that anymore, does she? Not when she’s doing all of this. How she’s dressed, how she smells, how every single touch gets your heart to beat just a little faster. She wants to push things further between you, wants to have more than just the weekly meetups and competitions you have with her.

Realizing that she wants you makes something snap into place. Like it was always there, imprisoned by your own guarded thoughts and feelings. And now it’s out, and it is roaring.

You put her down to her last life, and you play like it’s the last game you’ll ever play. You don’t play it safe, not anymore, not in a very long time in your casual career, going for the ballsy, aggressive plays. You are committing everything in these last moments, and she’s losing momentum, backpedaling, trying to shake you off-

You realize something else. You want her too. Wanted her for a long time. Maybe it was when she first crashed at your couch, or when she started to leave behind her clothes around your apartment. Maybe it was the teasing after the battles of different genres, or the smiles that brighten up the end of the week. You don’t really know when, and you don’t particularly care.

Now you need to show her.

The game ends.

You relax, hands slacking, controller forgotten on the couch; Sakura’s left your lap, eyes fixed on yours, her own controller falling. Then she moves, standing up, facing you, climbing onto you.

Her hands wrapping around, holding your face, and she settles. “I guess you win.” She’s teasing, falling back to her walls, the sigh–you can tell how forced it is–that she lets out alongside her usual smirk that doesn’t reach her eyes solidifying it.

She’s unsure of where to go from here so she does the only thing she can do–fall back to her own routine. Teasing, mocking, back to pushing how far she can go with you.

She’s pretending that it’s a normal Saturday for you two, that she hasn’t tried to entice you with what she’s done, hasn’t tried to push the boundaries of this setup you have with her to its limits, that you haven’t noticed what she’s been doing to your heart.

She’s waiting for your reaction, your rejection, you.

And with what everything that’s happened? Everything you thought about her, about you, about where you stand amongst all of it?

Well, you just did what your heart is telling you to do. Make it complicated.

And the kiss that you give Sakura makes the world disappear.

—

The desk rattles. If she was bothered by the pain, she doesn’t tell you. If anything, she’s more focused on touching you. And she’s everywhere, fingertips brushing your neck, nails scratching your skin, her lips against yours; She was intense, so much so that you can get lost in the feeling, the unspoken words pouring themselves into it.

You can smell her shampoo, a sweet smell of strawberries mixing with the fruitiness of her perfume that drives you crazier. Her lips are soft, tasting like cherries, and you can’t help but have more, driving your tongue inside her mouth, connecting to hers, fighting, winning, losing. She’s a fucking treat, and you’re gonna be enjoying her to the fullest.

The sighs and moans that slip through her lips sound angelic, enjoying how you feel, how you taste, and the whine of displeasure that she lets out when you pull away make you smile.

“Why’d you stop?” She’s pulling you to her, lips on your neck, leaving small kisses, tits pressing against your chest that makes you want to take her damn shirt off. “C’mere.” And she gives you these pecks that make you want her even more, the aftertaste of her attacking your lips.

“Wanted to know how far we can go.” You managed to let out, in between the kisses, the touching, the grinding. “Might do something I’d regret.” It’s a facade. She’s sending you off the edge, and you don’t know how long you can hold it in before you take her. Mold her. Make her yours.

She laughs against your lips–shivers run down your spine–and she murmurs out your name. “Somebody forgot about the bet.” She arches back on the desk, tits popping out even more, the desire to ruin her top getting higher and higher. Her eyes gleam against the moonlight, the shadows making that lip bite she sends you utterly sinful.

“Anything you want.”

The hands on her waist move, slow, teasing upwards, your touches a promise to own her. Her breath hitches, dark anticipation bubbling up inside of her, hums and giggles dancing in the air.

They reach her chest, and you feel hard nubs poking through her top; You pinch and she mewls, hips pressing hard against yours, needy, desperate. You don’t linger, moving further up. You grip. Hungry eyes on yours.

And you pull.

Fabric gives way, tearing filling the room alongside her gasping, out of desire, surprise. Pupils dilate, bodies shuddering, and Sakura grins.

“Fuck.” She dips down, clothes in shambles, chest exposed, your hands touching everywhere; Her slim waist, tight abs, perky tits. She pulls you onto one and your mouth waters, suckling, nipping. “Finally got what you wanted, huh?” She’s taunting, voice breathy, back lifting to give you more of her. She wants this just as much as you do. “Better be worth more than my shirt, nerd.”

All the while her hands are moving, unfastening draws, pulling down pants, cupping boxers. You bite a bud, holding back a moan when her hand goes under to cup your length, nails grazing, heat running through your body, while another goes underneath your shirt, eager to discover more of you.

Even now you and her are still competing, still trying to find who’ll win this dance of debauchery. And she’s trying to take control, set the tempo–too bad you had other plans.

You bring a knee up in between her thighs in retaliation, pressing against her clothed heat. A whimper escapes, hips are rolling, begging for more. A hand, enjoying the soft flesh of her chest, squeezing, pinching, goes to the zipper of her skirt, enjoying her soft skin on the way down, sending tingles that make her buck her hips faster on your leg.

“Shit–more–” She’s losing herself in ecstasy, holding onto your arms, digging into your skin, leaving scratch marks as she fucks herself on your knee. You reach the teeth of her skirt, fingers shaky with need, and pull down, pulling your knee away to let it fall. Her hips don’t stop, rocking the air, desperate to have you back. To get her off.

“Look at you-” Fingers find heat, answering her pleas, pressing into the wet spot of her panties, a dark crimson, gasps spilling from her lips, legs trembling in relief from the pressure you’ve given back. “So fucked on this.” You give a little push inside, cloth blocking you, denying her. “Think you’re up for more?”

She nods, frantic, eager. She’s conceding defeat, resistance now a fleeting thought. You take full advantage of it.

You whip her around, bending her over the desk, a hand on the small of her back, ass wiggling because after everything, she’s still so impatient. Still dripping, still aching, still needing your touch.

A sharp crack sounds out, followed by a deep breath. She stills for a moment, shock encapsulating her entire body. It was not something she thought you’d do, yet here you are, ripping shirts, slapping ass, exceeding each and every one of Sakura’s expectations.

The exhale that she lets out is shaky, filled by desire, the drag of her nails on the desk joining it, yet she presses back, obeying the silent demand.

You wander down, hands teasing her curves before you grab a handful of her ass, squeezing, her breath quickening before your palm comes down for a second dose–the other cheek, this time, just to even things out–and she wavers, almost losing herself in the sensation. Then a giggle. Sweet, dangerous, coy, troubling, addictive.

She looks over her shoulder, strands cascading around her face, swollen lips turned upwards, eyes burning with desire, arousal, defiance. She presses back even further, ass against your bulge that’s been in dire need of release.

You don’t fight her, gripping her hips instead. You shift closer, rubbing, heat on heat, raw hunger in the air. Nobody moves. It’s a challenge, waiting for someone to crack first.

She loses, deliberate, hasty, ass circling, her voice permeating the air. “Want it–” Panting follows, desperate, whimpering. “Take it out already–”

Your chest rumbles, lips wetting, thinking about how much more you can draw this out for her. And, well, she did hate losing.

“Say please.” You ask, no, demand it from her. That one word carries so much weight for her, submission, loss, all wrapped in one syllable. She’s already lost–multiple times, in fact–but this is different. This is complete, utter defeat. She pauses, thinking, debating, eyes wide, mouth panting, lips licking. And she makes her choice.

“Please.”

You’re yanking off your underwear, cock throbbing, aching, ramrod straight, fingers hooking into her panties, dragged to the side. You thrust deep in her. Hot, wet, divine. It’s a perfect fit, like she was made for you.

She moans, loud, crumbling, hands clutching the desk, body lurching from how hard you take her. She’s wet as fuck, pussy so snug it doesn’t want to let you go. You have no intention to. A hand takes hold of her ponytail, another of her hip, and you start fucking her into the desk, hard, each thrust echoing with slick, messy slaps.

She’s intoxicating, the way she clenches you with every pull of her hair, back tensing as you pound her on the desk, hearing her moan, gasp, break; You can’t get enough of it.

Each rhythmic slap of skin to skin makes her ass ripple, spurring you on. Your movements get frantic. Her moans get louder, breaking into filthy wails. She’s flawless, even with the torn shirt, the ruined panties, the pleasure that’s tearing her apart. All wrapped in the sinful indulgence that is Sakura.

Your hold on her hair gets tighter, pulling her head back just enough to hear her cry out. You drive into her, harsher, rougher, faster. Enough to make her arms give out as she collapses on the desk. “Feel so good,” You grunt out, pressing your body flush against hers, pinning her under your weight. “Gonna make you cum, Saku-” Your hand tilts, still holding onto her ponytail, pressing her cheek on the hardwood.

“Fuck–yes–” She pants, drunk on pleasure, eyes hazily lock onto you as she drips down her thighs, staining her legs, your cock, the floor. She’s a goddamn wreck, so suffocatingly tight, slamming harder into her, desk shuddering with each thrust.

“More, yes, yes–” She babbles, repeating words, switching languages. “Don’t stop–close–fuck–” Her pussy grips you like a vice, trying to milk you, making you groan, sending you so fucking close to losing it and blowing it all inside her.

It took all your willpower to pull out, a whine ringing out before you plug three fingers in her cunt, pumping furiously. The long, shuddering scream that pierces through the room combines with the view of her arched back and trembling legs, announcing her orgasm. It shatters her, raw, explosive, pussy clamping on your fingers as you keep pushing and pulling inside of her. She looks completely, undeniably beautiful.

Her body slumps, the desk the only thing that keeps her up. You pull out of her, give her another slap on the ass, and she trembles. She’s reaching a hand out, trying to find you, grip your length, give you the same high you gave her.

You shift to the side where her head is resting, poking her cheek with your length. She looks up, eyes glazed, dark, hungry for more, before her mouth parts to have a taste of herself upon you.

She’s sensual with her tongue, dragging everywhere, indulging in the combined flavor of your precum and her cream. Cheeks hollow, gripping you, jerking slowly. She pops off of you, muttering under her breath, tongue sliding along your cock, over, under. She’s still murmuring when she ends up on your tip, giving it a smooch.

“Louder.” Another demand. She’s still blowing you when she speaks, except you can’t understand what the fuck she’s saying because she defaulted to talking Japanese.

You pull away, enough to be out of her reach. She tries to get closer but a hand on her hair denies her of you. “Speak properly, baby.”

A dopey smile appears on her face. A giddy giggle follows out.

“Breed me.”

Moments blur, and the next thing you know is Sakura sprawled on the bed–legs open–and you have her wet panties falling from your hands.

Hands take hold of her waist, curved to perfection, and you’re sliding down to her legs, hooking them up to her head, and you send it.

Giving her backshots alone almost sent you off the deep end, but this view is a hell of a contender–eyes rolled back, jaw slacking, tits bouncing–as the air is full of wet squelches and dirty moans. Hands shoot out to your neck, pulling you closer, holding onto dear life as you fuck her into the bed. Her cries, now feeding into your ear, ignites something feral inside you.

“Fucking use me–” The words fuel you, pounding harder, hands pushing her higher. “More, more, more–” She’s pulling your hair, giving you this kiss that was all tongue. A deep thrust sends her moaning into your lips as she cums. Her legs tighten, wrapping around your waist as her walls clench around you, trapping you, taking you for herself.

She falls down to the bed, basking in the afterglow, your dick still deep inside of her, feeling her spasm. She’s ruined, hair sticking on her forehead, eyeliner running, chest heaving. She looks like an angel.

You let something slip out. Three words, two seconds, one meaning. It was the truth, an absolute that you needed to tell her. Sakura focuses on you, eyes melting, cupping your face, giving you this smile–real, genuine–that tells you everything you need to know.

And she still says it anyway. The kiss that follows solidifies it.

Then her grip tightens, it doesn’t matter where, and she says three completely different words that spirals you down to your baser instincts.

“Cum inside me.”

The pace you set is slower this time, gentle, showing instead of telling. All the things you want to say told through the way you hold her, fill her, fuck her. Love her.

Your hand takes solace in her waist, another cupping her breast. She hasn’t looked away from you, still holding you as you fuck her. Still moaning your name out when she kisses you in between thrusts. Still giggling like a schoolgirl on a first date.

And when you feel that pressure in your stomach rising, she hooks her arms around you, on your shoulder, your hip, as if she knows you’re about to cum. To give her everything–every thought, every word, every feeling–all in this moment.

“I want it.” A whisper. “All of it.” A name.

A kiss.

“Please.”

Your body tenses, cock pulsing as you cum inside of her. It was overwhelming, blinding. You feel it pouring into her in waves, thick, warm. You hear her moan softly, taking it all, draining you, savoring you.

You fall on top of her, body exhausted, breathing uneven. She leaves pecks on your neck, uttering all these loving words, arms still wrapped around you like a cocoon.

Three words cut through the air.

You smile against her neck, tickling her, causing her to laugh. It was, no. She is everything you could ever ask for and more.

“I love you too.”

—

After that night, things change.

Having your feelings out in the open wasn’t as complicated as you thought. If anything, it feels great.

Like when she’s cuddled up to you in the mornings, when you’re cooking dinner together, when you two go out on dates–though she still has to hide her face, she is an idol after all.

Your apartment’s livelier now, more home-y ever since Sakura’s all but moved in, more of her stuff scattered around the rooms, the guest room abandoned in favor of yours. Now the only time you have to clean it is whenever her group comes to visit the apartment. Chaewon has been insufferable ever since.

Things change. Except, it doesn’t.

You still make her breakfast when she has to leave early in the morning. Still have your weekly gaming sessions. You still do your bets, though nobody really loses anymore. Not when you or her can do whatever you two want when you win.

Like when she tied you to the bed and rode you so hard the bed frame broke-

You’ve learned over time that Sakura goes all in on things that she wants.

A new computer? She’ll buy the latest and greatest.

Knitting? She’ll get the best fabric available in the market.

Fucking you? She’ll perform like it’s a year-end performance.

And she’s gonna pull out all the stops.

Dressed in nothing but a push-up bra, a pair of fishnet thigh highs and black leather boots, the power at which she slaps you across the cheek–with consent and safe words in place, of course–makes you reel, and she hauls you all the way to your bedroom and shoves you down the mattress.

“Been waiting to do this for days.” She growls out, crawling over you, pulling your wrists together above your head with one hand, and getting a pair of fabric from the nightstand with the other.

You’re still dazed from the slap, still confused on how you got to the bed, vision blurry from how rough she’s treating you. When your vision does clear, you see this trail of saliva on her lips before she spits it out, straight to your face.

“You don’t talk till I tell you.” Sakura’s relentless, pulling one of your arms up to the headboard where she wraps the fabric around it. She does it again.

It was tight, stings like a bitch when you try to pull on it, and that gets you another slap. Another serving of her spit. “Stop fucking moving, nerd.” Then a pair of fingers shove into your mouth, wet. From spit or from her, you don’t really care.

All you know is that it’s making your cock strain against your shorts, Sakura grinning above you, and the cold air brushing your legs as she pulls your shorts and boxers down, exposing you to her.

She lines herself up on your cock, pushing your head inside, then pulling it away, teasing you with it, driving you crazy. And when she sees you squirming, hips trying to thrust into her heat, she laughs.

“So fucking desperate.” And she buries herself down into you, enveloping your entire cock, her tight, wet cunt stretching to take you in.

“Yes.” She drags it out, grinding on you, head tilting backwards, savoring how you feel inside her. “Shit-” She’s brutal in her pace. The frantic way she bounces on your cock, moving faster everytime she drops deep inside of you, rolling in between, desperate to get her high. She is definitely going to bruise your hips after.

You let out this groan out of pain, pleasure, delirium. You’re enjoying this, not as much as she does, her soaked pussy dripping down the sheets, each slick squelch blending with the slaps of your skin molding with hers and you are fucked out of your mind-

“So good-” She’s leaning down, pressing her weight against yours, lips on your ears as she whispers all the filthy things she’ll do to you.

“Could fuck you like this all night.”

“Gonna make you my bitch the entire fucking weekend.”

“Fucking love it, doncha nerd-” Her hands are on your throat, pressure non-existent, fucking herself harder onto your shaft, the creaking of the bed getting louder, bending under the pressure that is Sakura-

Crack.

The bed sinks awkwardly in the center, pressing you deeper into the mattress. But she doesn’t care. It just made her hornier, made her pussy wetter, drenching you more in her and all she can let out is this shaky, dirty laugh.

“I’ll buy a new damn bed-” She’s unrelenting, the force she’s fucking you getting harder, faster. “-Just need to cum on this goddamn cock-”

Sakura’s entire body goes up, back arching, head rolling, the pressure on your throat suddenly getting tighter just as her cunt was, and she lets out this scream that echoes around your apartment. Your legs seize up, the pleasure drowning, overwhelming you. You let

You follow her after, spurts filling her up, leaking down, mixing with hers as you’re both basking in the mess you two made, enjoying how tight her pussy is, how much she’s gushed all over you. How much she’s going to own you.

Then a laugh. “We just broke the bed.” A lick of her lips. “Might as well make the most of it.” Her hips start moving again.

Your neighbours are going to be so angry tomorrow.

Or when you used her throat for the entire day when you won that one week-

The amount of times you’ve pushed her down on her knees today was the same as the amount of times you’ve fed Sakura your cum. It’s a shame you keep losing count the moment your cock slips back into her mouth.

She’s a mess, from the cum that’s dried up all over her face, her hair, her chest, to the spit that’s coated her chin, mixing with the cum on her, the tears that have been falling from getting her face wrecked, to the panties that she’ll most likely throw out after tonight.

Yet she’s still taking your cock like a champ, face scrunched up as you’re thrusting into your latest obsession; Her wet, hot mouth.

It was addicting, like a drug you never thought you needed, seeing your cock disappearing, forced into the back of her throat and she leans into the depravity. Hell, she doubles down on it whenever she can, hollowing her cheeks, licking your balls when her mouth meets your pelvis, fucking her own face on your length when you need a break from pistoning your hips.

Which is exactly what’s happening now, when your head’s tossed back on the couch as she’s drooling all over you, hands on your thighs, her nails raking over them; She’s inhaling your cock, her nose hitting your stomach everytime she goes down on you.

“I fucking love your mouth, Kkura.” Your hands find her hair, some strands wet from the cum that’s struck them, her hazel hair a bit darker from it. Your grip gets tighter. “Can’t get enough of it.”

And your hips are moving, plowing into her mouth again and again and again and she’s bracing herself because that’s all she can do other than the fresh tears that spill out of her eyes, the broken moans she sounds out, letting you know how much she’s enjoying being treated like a fleshlight.

The view was amazingly filthy; Sakura’s jaw wide open with your shaft, balls wet from all the spit that’s flying out of her mouth, eyes never looking away from yours no matter how dirty, rough, brutal you get with her.

Then you push her head, angling her in a way that shoves you even deeper down her throat. “Face just as good as your pussy-” You’re fucking her face harder, the tears in her eyes running in droves. She’s smiling through it all, and that pushes you even more to break her completely on your cock.

You don’t give her a warning when you cum–she doesn’t need any. You just keep going, fucking her mouth, fixated on how wet and hot and tight it was, until you feel the familiar tightening of your abdomen making you go faster, deeper.

It was animalistic, how you abuse her throat like a toy, how you pull on her hair like they’re pigtails, how she’s still holding that smile through everything you’re dishing out. Then your legs started shaking, your gut getting tighter till you can’t hold it anymore; You slam her down on your cock, giving her throat another hefty coating of your cum.

She still hasn’t looked away when she’s swallowing every drop, the gulps almost audible every time your cock shoots out another batch. She’s inhaling it like air, getting all of it down inside of her before you pull out just as you let out ropes of cum on her, applying another layer of it onto her already nasty, sloppy face and she’s glowing, humming in satisfaction, degrading herself even further.

And when you’re spent, she lets out this drunk little giggle as she cleans you up of all the spit and cum that’s left. Never once breaking eye contact with you.

She’s all sorts of ruined, and you would do it again in a heartbeat.

It’s still the same traditions and routines with Sakura. Except it wasn’t.

It didn’t just feel great. It feels right. Like it completes you.

And now you’re here with her, having another one on one-a shooter game this time-and you’ve lowkey been throwing the game, missing shots that were basically free, and Sakura’s cheering, trash talking you from across the room where you set up her computer.

But you made it close. Made her sweat for it, made her work for the win, and when she does? She gives you the same grin that she always does.

Except it isn’t.

She gives you a peck on the lips, and before you can push her further, she pulls away. “My turn this time.”

And while she rummages through her closet for something, you’re smiling, stupid, fondly, loving. You don’t tell her. You don’t need to.

Not when you can spend the rest of your life showing it to her.

“Here it is!” The grin disappears on her face, replaced with something soft, gentle. Her hands are behind her back, hiding whatever she took from the closet from you.

“You trust me?” An eyebrow lifts. “I’ll let you back out from this just one time.”

You stand up, hands on her shoulders, smiling down. “You know I do, Saku.” Then you huff out a laugh. “Do we need to use safe words again?”

“Yes. Yes we do.” She’s giggling, before stepping up on her tippy toes to give you a kiss. “But I promise to take care of you for this.”

Then her smile‘s gone, this stare–serious, ominous, wicked–taking over her entire being.

And in her hands was purple, long, made of rubber.

It wasn’t the first time she’s brought a dildo to the table, but this one was…unique, to say the least. Smaller than the ones that she usually pulls out, a leather brace holding it upright; It’s pointed towards you, staring blankly. Menacingly.

And you’ve never been more scared and turned on in your life.

“Get the lube.” She states, head nodding off to the side, as if you know where it is. “I’m gonna fuck you in the ass, nerd.”

Is Miyawaki Sakura a freak? Absolutely. No question about it.

Do you love her regardless? Yeah. You do.

And you wouldn’t trade her for the world.