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It’s a stupid, idiotic idea to listen to anything Huh Yunjin, out-of-touch nepo baby of the century, suggests.
Sakura knows better. She knows that she knows better. Hell, Chaewon doesn’t listen to her half the time, and that’s the woman she’s married to. Yunjin just talks for the sake of talking sometimes, because she’s got too much energy in her body, and doesn’t mind being told to shut up.
God, and the idea of Yunjin trying to keep an eye on the girls, all while barely managing to wrangle her own pack of her own five offspring, is enough to make Sakura’s chest tense.
She can picture that dopey grin, all teeth and scrunchy cheeks.
I got you, Kkura. I owe you guys big time anyways. She’ll be super into this. Trust me.
Sakura feels ridiculous, thinking about it now. Sure, Chaewon is there too, but eight kids in one penthouse is a lot for anyone. The Miyawaki girls are well-behaved, angels in comparison to some of what Yunjin’s kids get up to, but the Huhs are also prone to yelling, and Moka doesn’t do well with raised voices. Anna’s too polite to ask people to calm down, and Iroha just goes along with whatever people suggest, too mellow for her own good.
She takes a deep breath, smoothing out a wrinkle in the fold of her robe. She tries not to think about her kids right now. This isn’t the time.
She sends a thumbs up to Yunjin, confirming that she’s ready, and Yunjin sends back a stupid selfie. Sakura can see the kids in the back, dogpiled on the couch, laughing, Chaewon watching over them. Another sigh of relief, replaced with anticipation. She clears her head of thoughts of her family and steadies herself.
This isn’t about her family tonight. Tonight, this is about her wife.
Her devoted, responsible, delicious specimen of a wife.
Sakura has stayed at a Huh Resort many times, her best friend insisting on making the most of her new inherited luxury lifestyle, and Sakura has always obliged. But this is her first time spending the night in one of the executive suites, sleek and modern, the pinnacle of indulgence. Gorgeously designed, meticulously cleaned, and every detail thought out: a towel warmer, luxury shower, a bed with the softest, silkiest sheets Sakura has ever known. The iced champagne bottles are a nice touch, especially when Sakura’s nerves get the better of her and she opts to pour herself a quick flute as she waits patiently on the couch.
She’s moments away from getting cold feet, feeling too dressed up and dangerously under-dressed all at once, but Yunjin is texting her a quick confirmation and another stupid smirking emoji, and Sakura knows she can’t back out now. Chaewon sends her a simple heart, and Sakura takes a deep breath to calm herself, putting her phone on ‘do not disturb’ for the rest of the evening.
A few minutes later, and there’s a knock at her door, and a familiar voice chiming out as she approaches.
“Good evening. This is the hotel manager. I apologize for your visit not living up to your expectations. Please, let me know how I can make this right, your experience is everything to us. We aim to please.”
Sakura’s breath hitches, her stomach twisting in knots at the level of professionalism. Aim to please is an understatement.
She steadies herself, feeling much too exposed for her own comfort, but knows there’s a delicious reward waiting for her if she can keep her eyes on the prize.
The door swings open, and Kazuha is standing there, tall and lean, a tailored black suit giving every impression of elegance. Sakura is transported back to those first days in the Huh Enterprises offices, trying to ignore the bumbling cutie trailing behind that spoiled nepo baby. She’s teleported back to their first year as godparents, thrown together against her will, all the times Sakura had to coach herself through an ungodly attraction to this dorky girl.
Now, older, more mature, and now even more attractive, a dream of a parent to their girls and the most doting wife a woman could ask for.
Sakura remembers exactly why she’s here, clears her throat, and places a hand on her hip.
Showtime.
“Took you long enough, my shower isn’t working.”
She gives herself a mental pat on the back— Sakura hates being rude to service workers, she’d actually rather die than cause anyone even the slightest inconvenience, but she sounds certifiably annoyed enough to seem convincing. She won’t tell anyone that she spent the last hour pacing the room, training herself to practice this voice until she had desensitized herself.
Ugh, her poor angel puppy dog, furrowing her brows like she can’t wrap her mind around it as soon as she realizes. Her wife, in a suite at the hotel she works at, the two worlds that almost never collide. She looks so cute when she’s confused like this, her face twisting as she tries to understand. She wants to drop everything and shower this woman with kisses.
“Sakura?”
But she has to commit. Something waits for her in the beyond for being able to follow through.
“I’m trying to relax, enjoy my stay, and I can’t even get hot water,” she presses on, motioning to the bathroom. She ignores her wife’s clear confusion, committing to her own act. “You can see the issue, right?”
Kazuha quickly glances around the hallway, her shoulders dropping, the worry written clear across her features. Sakura nearly melts seeing how quickly she can go from composed leader to soft angel in a heartbeat.
“Baby, what are you doing here?” She asks, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind them. “Who has the girls? Yunjin called, told me to come help the VIP suite, that the guest was complaining, she blocked me off the schedule to come fix it—”
And then, her eyes widen. Sakura feels a shudder run through her spine.
“Oh.” Kazuha clears her throat, the air visibly leaving her chest. “Oh.”
Sakura can’t let her see the nerves, so she swallows them down and instead focuses on her end goal. Veiny forearms, veiny forearms, veiny forearms…
“The maintenance people couldn’t figure out the issue,” she sighs, trying desperately not to break character. “I need someone who knows what they’re doing.”
It’s a lie, obviously. Sakura would never be at a hotel like this, would never complain about her water temperature, and would most definitely never let a random person into her room while she’d be in a skimpy robe like this. She wouldn’t call Yunjin for any big favors, not in a million years. Maybe Sakura is a better actress than she’s giving herself credit for.
Kazuha’s big puppy eyes are scanning around, trying to make sense of it all, the confusion written clearly along her sweet features. They land on the hem of Sakura’s robe, where the silk edge brushes up against the skin of Sakura’s exposed knee.
She sees something change, Kazuha’s gaze locking in on Sakura’s leg, the hem lifting ever so slightly up her thigh.
“I um…” Kazuha lets out a deep breath, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. “I can… go check.”
Sakura lets out a breath of relief. She’s finally playing along.
Kazuha takes her job very, very seriously, and Sakura knows this. She’s seen her in action, when she brings the girls to come visit every so often, family lunches they’ll sometimes spend in the hotel’s elaborate buffet or to enjoy the hotel pool. Kazuha has always been astoundingly focused, and insanely competent, it’s easy to forget how young she is in comparison to her colleagues. Being the operations manager for one of the biggest luxury hotels in the region is no small feat, and yet Kazuha comes home and fawns over her family as if she just volunteered at a library for 8 hours. No complaints, no elaborate stories about work, not a single sign of exhaustion.
(Sakura always worries that if running a warzone of a hotel is easier on Kazuha than being Yunjin’s personal assistant, that stupid nepo baby must have been an absolute terror to have desensitized her like this. But that’s something to have Chaewon chew her out for another time.)
Kazuha steps forward, instinctively leading towards the bathroom as if she knows the floorplans by heart. Her suit is so deliciously tailored to her body, Sakura can already feel the pit twisting in her stomach.
“I’m here alone,” the older woman says simply, following behind. “Traveling. I leave in the morning.”
“I have a wife and three perfect daughters,” Kazuha blurts. Her head stays down, gaze fixed forward.
Oh god. Kazuha said it a little too easily, a little too quickly, like it’s been rehearsed. It must be a script she follows, when people ask her personal questions. If Sakura were insecure or possessive, she’d probably go crazy thinking about all the women that try to seduce her wife on a regular basis.
But Kazuha is so clueless, so hopelessly devoted, Sakura has never once feared her eye has wandered. Kazuha, who still sometimes struggles to look a barista in the eye, who still bows to Chaewon as if they haven’t been friends for years, who still looks away when a woman is half-naked on TV, doesn’t give Sakura any cause for concern.
“Sounds sweet,” she hums.
Kazuha nods.
“I love my family more than anything.”
Well, Kazuha’s not getting the hint that she’d like for this to turn a little more adult, and mentioning their kids is not exactly the sexiest thing in the world. Sakura just wants one night to get Kazuha to relax a little. She realizes she’ll have to take things even further into her own hands.
“Go check the water, please.”
Kazuha’s forehead is creasing at this point, with how distressed she seems.
“I don’t think there’s anything—”
“Check the connection,” Sakura cuts her off, insistent. God, she hates bossing Kazuha around like this, seeing her poor puppy so anxious to get it right, but the thought of what’s to come is building a pool of heat in the pit of her stomach.
Kazuha hears the shift in her voice, the slight edge of desperation, and like a call to action, she bolts to do as she’s told.
Sakura almost gets dizzy with how eager Kazuha is to do exactly what she says. The younger woman examines the showerhead from outside the glass, trying to see what Sakura is leading her towards. Her jaw is so sharp, so gorgeous, Sakura nearly reaches out to touch her, but it’d break the illusion. She tries to steady herself.
“You’ll need to step in to get a closer look,” the older woman murmurs.
Kazuha eyes her cautiously, stepping into the shower.
Sakura feels her throat go dry, her heartbeat thudding against her ribs.
“Turn the water on.”
“But I’ll—” Kazuha starts, only for Sakura to cut her off.
“Turn. The water. On.” Her breaths are shaky, barely able to leave her mouth without a tremble. She needs this so bad, she might cry. “Please.”
Kazuha looks at her with one final glance of hesitation, and does as she’s told, and Sakura feels drunk with both power and attraction. Bony fingers reach out to pull a sleek metal lever, and the showerhead roars to life.
The water soaks her wife’s clothes, her hair clinging messily to her temples. Her dress shirt clings to her frame now, soaked through, the blazer quickly losing its shape as it crumples against her. Kazuha’s slacks quickly melt into her skin, the faint outline of her strong legs visible against the wet fabric. The curves, the hard lines, the bulges— Sakura wonders if she might like this almost as much as she likes seeing her wife naked.
When Yunjin had first offered the idea, to put Sakura in a suite and surprise Kazuha, Sakura was aghast at the idea of accepting her help. But Yunjin and Chaewon seemed to continuously forget that Sakura was a sexual being too, that she and her wife had their own interests. Just because they weren’t all over each other every time they had a dark corner like Chaewon and Yunjin were, didn’t mean they didn’t have their own riveting sex life.
And when Sakura had stopped to make her checklist for the evening, it had included quite a few things in her fantasy. The foremost of which involved seducing a very focused, very responsible young woman in a suit, acting on impulses Sakura had deeply repressed when they had first met.
And now, Sakura almost mewls at the sight in front of her. Kazuha, turning the water off, hair shaggy and in waves now, her suit weighed down and clinging to every inch of her. It’s honestly much, much better than Sakura’s wildest dreams.
“Whoops. Don’t think you can go back to work dripping wet like that,” she says, mesmerized.
“I um, I guess not,” Kazuha says slowly. She shakes her sleeves, watching as the soaked fabric drips with her movements. “These are my work clothes.”
“I think they’ll dry faster,” Sakura pauses, testing the boundaries, “if you take them off.”
Kazuha audibly swallows.
Sakura needs this so badly. She steps backwards, Kazuha steps forward, out of the shower, trailing water behind her.
Her wife’s eyes are dark, contemplating.
Slowly, she finally works at the buttons on her shirt. Sakura bites back a groan when the tie loosens around her neck and exposes the first sliver of skin. Kazuha’s perfect, unblemished, soft skin.
“Nice watch,” Sakura blinks, trying to focus on something, anything, to keep her distracted as her delicious wife strips down in front of her very eyes.
“My wife got it for me,” Kazuha answers instantly. The shirt peels off, dropping to the floor with a wet thud, leaving her in an undershirt and her pants. Sakura nearly leaps on her then, but she can be patient.
Kazuha’s gorgeous, bony fingers fumble with her belt, unbuckling it, then dip to her zipper, and the noise seems to have some Pavlovian effect on Sakura, because she feels an embarrassing rush of heat to her core.
“And um, those socks.” The woman goes on. “Those are nice too.”
“My wife,” Kazuha repeats.
Sakura has bought Kazuha a million pairs of socks. Of course Sakura isn’t looking at her damn socks: her wife wears the tiniest, sluttiest briefs to work like it’s no big deal. Thighs on full display, her pants now pooled at her ankles, Kazuha looks like a fucking god in front of her. Sakura feels her fingertips tremble. She’s so turned on, she can barely see at this point.
“There’s no towels,” Kazuha realizes, glancing around the bathroom.
No going back now. Sakura breathes in to steel herself.
“Use this.”
She slowly drops the robe off from her shoulders. She can’t think of the last time she’s worn a bra this lacy, much less been so bold as to wear a matching underwear set. She’s half naked, in lingerie, taking off a silk robe to try and seduce her wife in her own place of work. Sakura has never been the showy type, preferring to keep her head down and never be the center of attention, but for Kazuha, god, she feels like she might just do anything to get a reaction like this out of this woman.
Kazuha sucks in a deep breath, her jaw twitching. Sakura can see the gears turning behind her eyes.
“Water’s fixed. Thank you,” Sakura hums, lowly. She takes a step forward. Her hand reaches out, a delicate trace of her fingernail against Kazuha’s now-exposed collarbone. The contact is electric, the both of them shuddering at the touch. Sakura can see the goosebumps raise along her wife’s skin. She drops her gaze, batting her eyes up at the taller woman through her lashes. “How can I express my gratitude?”
Sakura takes a brief glance downward, and the tent in Kazuha’s underwear tells her she’s on the right track. Kazuha’s a sweet little gentleman, but she’s not clueless. They have three kids, to say the least— her wife has some idea as to where this goes.
“Can’t accept tips,” Kazuha rasps, licking her lips.
Sakura nods, stepping towards Kazuha until they’re out of the bathroom and back into the master suite. The taller woman hits the bed with the back of her legs and falls back to sit down, holding herself up.
“I’ll have to get creative, then.”
Sakura doesn’t usually like making a whole show out of getting on her knees. It usually makes her self-conscious, and plus, her wife tends to beg for Sakura to stop so she can just eat her out already. A girl who hates blowjobs because she’s so eager to eat her wife’s pussy instead... God, something about buttery lobsters and juicy steaks…
But it’s Sakura’s day, she wants to do this. She wants to see Kazuha fall apart, and not just rush so she can race to please her wife. Sakura’s greatest gift might actually just be watching her wife’s pleasure instead of focusing on her own.
She doesn’t say anything else before she sinks to her knees at the foot of the bed, resting delicately against the soft rug. She anchors her hands on Kazuha’s strong thighs, feeling the cool sheen of the evaporating water from her wife’s still-wet skin. Kazuha lets out an exhale, something so soft and delicate it might almost count as a whimper. It’s all Sakura needs as fuel to go.
Kneeling now comfortably, she leans forward and licks a broad stripe along the contours of Kazuha’s abs, the dip of her v-line. Kazuha’s entire body tenses up, her breath hitching, the comforter shifting from where Kazuha’s grip tightens. Sakura feels like she might accidentally drool on her wife from how turned on she is, how badly she wants this, how ready she is to do this for her.
Kazuha tips her head back, her eyes fluttering shut as Sakura’s tongue explores the flat planes of her lower stomach. There’s an airy groan that leaves her, louder than the rest. Sakura feels an embarrassing gush of wetness, but she’s nearly desperate for what comes next.
As gently as she can manage, Sakura traces her tongue along Kazuha’s waistband, her fingers coming up delicately to flip the elastic down and release her straining member from the fabric. She had told herself she’d tease, make Kazuha wait for it, but now, having her pretty dick in her hand, just inches away from her face, Sakura can’t control herself. She presses a soft kiss against the underside, feeling it twitch in her grasp, and wastes no time taking Kazuha’s straining red cockhead into her mouth.
Kazuha whines at the sudden wetness, her knuckles going white gripping on the sheets.
Sakura has tried many, many times to convince Kazuha to let her suck her off without expecting anything in return, and it always ends in Kazuha begging to do something to Sakura instead. But here, with Sakura in charge, she’s going to make sure her wife knows exactly what’s going to happen tonight. She pulls her lips off with a lewd pop, peppering kitten kisses on the tip, feeling the weight of it heavy in her palm as she holds it up.
“I’m going to give you head, and I want you to focus on how good it feels,” Sakura instructs, her voice low and velvety with want. “And then, you’re going to fuck my throat, and show me how good it was by letting me see you cum. Okay?”
Kazuha moans in response, her words failing, and Sakura feels a sense of satisfaction. Everything going according to plan, now all that’s left is Sakura’s job: give her wife the most mind-blowing head of her life.
Sakura has a mental checklist for herself. Breathe deep, keep it wet, relax. Her jaw slacks and she takes nearly half of Kazuha’s length into her mouth in one go.
She loves that her wife keeps herself tidy, trimmed, and exfoliated, which makes her job just that much easier. It’s quintessential Kazuha: always thinking about other people, always wanting to make everyone’s lives easier, always one step ahead in the most thoughtful ways possible. Sakura remembers the first few times Kazuha would come babysit Gawon at Sakura’s place, the two of them bonding over godparent duties, and Kazuha would make it her own mission to tidy up messes she didn’t even make. So stupidly considerate, so infuriatingly responsible.
(These were also the first times Kazuha would spend the night on Sakura’s couch, her shirt riding up to reveal that toned flat stomach in her sleep, and Sakura would have to lock herself in her room to stop from ogling over the gorgeous woman in her living room. That was made much, much worse when Kazuha would start coming over to help co-babysit in more casual clothes. Her first morning wood in those grey sweatpants was a test of self-control for Sakura, who nearly jumped her bones then and there.)
Kazuha gasps, choking on a moan, and Sakura takes this as her cue. With one last deep breath, she relaxes and seizes forward to take the rest of Kazuha’s cock against her tongue, sliding Kazuha’s length down into the back of her throat. She takes a second to adjust to the intrusion, not wanting to gag as her eyes water at the stretch, but she quickly tightens around her and delights in the deep, rumbling whimper her wife lets out.
She strokes the base of Kazuha’s cock with a slow, deliberate twist, letting herself work her way up and down the rest of her length with her mouth. Wet, slippery noises ring out through the room, mixing with the quiet, muffled gasps from the younger woman. Sakura can hear Kazuha’s fists clenching against the sheets, feels her thighs tightening, her hips twitching— but something’s off.
Sakura squints. Usually, her doting puppy is all over her, touching her face, holding her hair, thanking her incessantly for what she’s doing. And she most definitely is not making an effort to thrust and use Sakura’s throat the way she’d like it to be used. She’s simply sitting, head tossed back, hands gripping the duvet, not a single glance back down at her wife on her knees. Why the hell is Kazuha being so stoic now of all times?
She stops to assess herself, as un-sexy as that may be when she’s trying to choke on her wife’s dick. It’s not as challenging as she remembers it, the last time she had tried it. Kazuha had gone crazy when she realized what Sakura was doing the last time, and it ended in Sakura gagging in a fit of coughs, Kazuha apologizing incessantly, and Sakura realizing it’s one of the sexiest things they’ve ever done. Why is this time different? Easier? There’s no way Sakura has gotten this good at deepthroating in just a few short weeks.
She realizes it. Her wife is up, there’s no question about it, but she isn’t fully hard.
She finally relents and unlatches her lips, her wrist continuing the twisting motion as she tries to get to the bottom of all this.
“Are you…?”
Kazuha says nothing, her eyes screwed shut. Sakura furrows her brows and swipes her tongue over Kazuha’s tip, feeling the soft tremble from the woman beneath her at the action.
“Feels good?” Sakura tries to question, leaning forward and licking along the underside of her length.
Kazuha nods shakily, tiny bobs of her head, but Sakura is losing her patience. She’s on her knees, ready to ruin her makeup, in her nicest lingerie. Why is her wife, who is usually obsessed with her, just staring up at the ceiling?
Sakura has never once thought of Kazuha as the type to be dissatisfied with— drunk, exhausted, or delirious, Kazuha has never been anything less than rock hard and ready to go whenever Sakura so much as breathes in her direction. At this point, she’s taking it extremely personally.
Her grip on Kazuha’s dick tightens before she realizes it, her fist still pumping rhythmically, and usually, Kazuha would whine to tell her she’s being too rough, but the woman says nothing. Sakura likes to think she’s level-headed, but Kazuha is about to see a side of her that she is not prepared for if she doesn’t start acting like herself very soon.
“What’s on your mind, then?” She questions, trying to keep her voice even, feeling increasingly crazy over whatever’s going on.
There’s no hesitation, not a single pause in between her question and Kazuha’s hasty answer.
“My wife,” Kazuha blurts instantly.
Oh god. Sakura’s hand stops for a brief second, loosening her grip as soon as she realizes it. Her sweet puppy, incapable of letting herself even enjoy a fantasy where she’s hooking up with someone else.
It’s kind of sickening, actually, how lucky Sakura is. Kazuha’s whole identity is just loving her. And Sakura wants tonight to be about Kazuha’s pleasure, not just her own. This new perspective is enough to help Sakura know exactly what to do.
“Your wife likes making you feel good,” Sakura reassures her.
The emphasis on her title, a very special title that she’ll admit brings her great joy, seems to be enough to get Kazuha to perk up. She cracks an eye open, peeking down at the woman on her knees, quickly averting her gaze once more.
Sakura feels a twitch in her hand. She looks down, and there’s a shiny bead of precum leaking from the tip, dripping down the head of Kazuha’s dick. The perfect size for her, just bigger than her grasp, a delicious girth and an insane curve to the tip of it that scratches an itch so perfectly when it’s inside her, Sakura sometimes forgets it’s attached to a human being, and not made in a lab exclusively for her pleasure.
Yes, Sakura nearly preens. She swipes her tongue over the bead, letting the taste disappear into her mouth, and Kazuha twitches again. There you go.
“Baby,” Sakura whispers, “Let me. I want you to let me.”
Kazuha whines again, her face flushed. Sakura feels it, the throb of Kazuha’s length, stiffening now to what Sakura knows she’s capable of. Finally.
“How do you want it?” The woman finally pants, bringing her hooded eyes down to take in the sight beneath her. Sakura feels a gush of wetness— this is Kazuha’s phrase when she’s about to burst.
“I want you to cum first,” Sakura blurts. “So you can last for me.”
Kazuha instantly leans back on the bed, obedient as ever. Her jaw slacks as she quickly drops her hand and gets to work, not wasting a single second longer.
Sakura nearly passes out at the sight in front of her, Kazuha’s thighs spread and her body on full display as she strokes herself, eyes locked on her wife. Her tongue drops out of her mouth, her jaw slack, the focus clear across her features as she starts to lose herself in her ministrations, her hand working twice as quickly as Sakura’s was to stroke herself.
It’s lewd, and raunchy, and the veins in Kazuha’s forearm nearly mirror the ones throbbing in her length as her grip seems to tighten with each passing moment. Her cock strains, achingly stiff, against the curve of her hand, the tip of it now a flushed red as opposed to the baby pink from earlier. Sakura feels her stomach ache with desire, watching Kazuha jerk herself off without hesitation. She needs to feel those veins in every inch of her.
“Oh my god,” Sakura moans.
“G-gonna… gonna cum,” Kazuha whines, her face twisting, her arm pumping even faster. “Close, baby… Please… please let me.”
Sakura gasps. Kazuha has never really asked permission before, just sort of waited until Sakura has told her she’s tapped out before letting herself finish. Is there a part of her wife that likes getting permission? Jesus. Sakura will have to thank Yunjin later.
“P-please, baby,” Kazuha pants desperately, her hips bucking into her own fist, fucking into her closed hand like a desperate teenager.
Sakura knows her wife wants permission, but she drops to her knees and finishes the job she started. It’s a greater challenge now, with Kazuha no longer as soft and pliable but now rock hard, but she takes it with pride.
She tries to relax her jaw, exhaling however she can to take Kazuha fully down her throat, and as soon as her nose bumps against her wife’s pelvis, she can feel a strong hand flying out to reach for her hair. The soft tug against her scalp sends a shiver down her spine, exactly what she wanted. She hums, feeling Kazuha groan at the vibration, and challenges herself to see just how much she can handle.
She pulls back, hollowing her cheeks, and lets Kazuha pulse her hips forward into her mouth, choking slightly, but keeping herself steady. She anchors herself on her wife’s strong thighs and meets her movements, feeling her head bob lewdly as she continues to work Kazuha’s cock into her throat as far back as she can. There’s tears in her eyes at this point, but it’s exactly what she needs.
Kazuha lets out a rumbling, tense groan and trembles beneath her, her head tipping back with her eyebrows knit tightly across her face. Her lip is curling almost as if she’s in pain, but Sakura knows this is just Kazuha’s near-peak. The older woman releases her with a pop and pumps her fist to milk everything she’ll give, now eager beyond what she can rationally think.
“I want to see you,” she demands. “Now.”
“Ah, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Kazuha gasps, her jaw slack and tongue lolling as within seconds, she makes an entire mess of Sakura’s lips, her chin, her chest, spurting uncontrollably, the shiny white streams seemingly neverending.
Sakura tries to catch her breath, feeling sinfully sticky, and making eye contact with Kazuha’s still-twitching dick, dying down after quite the performance.
God. Now she wants more.
Without thinking, she licks a quick stripe up along the head to clean Kazuha up. Her wife gasps, clearly overstimulated, her eyes glassy and cheeks flushed. Sakura feels a sense of deep pride rumbling within her, but she’s not quite done.
“Don’t even ask what I know you’re about to ask,” Sakura tells her. She uses her thumb to wipe away some of Kazuha’s cum off of her chin, and without thinking, shoves the digit into her mouth as her wife watches. She sees Kazuha’s length twitch at the sight, and knows she’s got her exactly where she wants her. “After all that, how do you think I want it?”
“Nasty,” Kazuha blurts quickly.
To be honest, Sakura didn’t really have anything in mind, but the idea that her polite darling wife is thinking filthy things right now sends her into what feels like early ovulation.
Finally satisfied with her own work, Sakura pulls herself up, her hands on Kazuha’s knees, slotting herself between her legs as she bats her eyes at the woman, caging her against the bed. Kazuha looks so fucking delicious like this, her sweet face flushed and wet, from both the rinse in the shower earlier and her own thin sheen of sweat from being so worked up. Her cheeks are ruddy, her lips are parted to try and catch her breath, and best of all, her eyes look so fucking hungry, it might actually ruin Sakura where she stands.
“Do you think you do that for me, baby?”
The younger woman launches forward, wrapping her arm around Sakura’s neck to twist and pin her down to the bed. Sakura gasps. Kazuha is never usually this aggressive, but all the pent up energy is making her rush, eager and frenzied.
Kazuha is on top of her in a flash, tongue all over her neck, down her throat, down the valley of her collarbones and dipping quickly to nip at the top of her breasts desperately.
Sakura notices that her wife tries to avoid the streaks of cum painted along her skin. Kazuha has never been a big fan of tasting herself, often sheepishly asking if she can help clean her wife up when they get a little too messy where Kazuha finishes, but Sakura doesn’t mind. Kazuha’s taste has never been unpleasant to her, and she finds a twisted sense of pride in wearing her wife’s arousal like proof of her skills.
The woman shoves her bra out of the way, and without warning, Kazuha’s teeth sink into the swell of Sakura’s breast. Before she can cry out, Kazuha is consoling her with a wet, hot tongue trailing from underneath to across her achingly hard nipple. Sakura gasps and reaches forward to sink her nails into Kazuha’s scalp, clutching her closer, seeing stars as Kazuha lavishes each nipple with an eager, broad tongue, nuzzling into her breasts when she breaks free to catch her breath.
Sensing her wife’s increasing impatience, Kazuha doesn’t waste any further time before shimmying back, hooking her elbows around Sakura’s knees, and pushing down with all her force, trapping her wife beneath her body, half-folded.
Sakura gasps at how exposed she feels in this new position, their starting position no less, but something about Kazuha’s eagerness makes her all the more willing to race to the good parts. Kazuha, too eager to strip Sakura’s lingerie set off, is simply yanking the flimsy fabric to the side, growling as her hips buck up against the lace.
Sakura reaches down to line her up, and the combination of her saliva and Kazuha’s cum meeting Sakura’s wetness is enough to let her wife slide in, a quick thrust to bury herself, her thighs slapping against the back of Sakura’s own forcefully enough to ring out through the room.
“That’s so fucking good, baby,” Sakura gasps, a jolt running through her at the sudden fullness, but she’s been so fucking turned on since her wife showed up at the door that her body is more than ready to welcome her wife exactly where she needs her most.
Kazuha sets off with deliberate, rolling thrusts, her hips snapping back and forth with mesmerizing smoothness. Sakura can’t help the tiny gasps that leave her each time Kazuha bottoms out, only to retreat and punch back in just moments later, painfully smooth, gorgeously consistent. Despite how turned on she is, Kazuha’s focus is on Sakura’s pleasure, fucking her with a rhythm that she knows will drive her wife beyond the edge in a matter of minutes.
Sakura’s head turns to the side, and it’s those stupidly sexy forearms gripping into the mattress that drives her crazy. The veins feel like they’re staring back at her.
It’s so perfect, so thoughtful, almost painfully so. She gets an idea.
She wriggles, grinding back and forth, quickening her movements until Kazuha slips out. The brief emptiness is almost unbearable, but her doting wife is lightning-fast to ensure she quickly lines herself back up and pushes back in. Kazuha lets out a tiny groan each time she bottoms out and regains her rhythm, her thrusts speeding up and losing their precision. Experimentally, Sakura grinds back down, swirling her hips as if to meet her thrusts, but she has her own agenda motivating her. Kazuha sputters to a stop as Sakura’s hips buck upwards off the mattress a little too far, and once more, Kazuha has to stop and line herself back up.
And each time she has to pick back up, she can see Kazuha’s resolve breaking, the pulsing vein in her neck, her eyes darkening, her focus fading. She’s getting too close to her own edge to be able to focus on staying consistent any more, and it shows in her movements: they go from smooth to jerky, from controlled to desperate. Her mission clearly shifts. From Sakura’s pleasure, to her own incoming release. The teetering between both might drive her insane. Sakura knows it’s cruel, to edge her wife out like this, but she goes again, and by the last time, Kazuha is letting out a small grunt of displeasure.
Again. And by the fifth slip, Kazuha seems to be teetering on the edge of delirium.
“Baby, please stop moving,” she snaps, her voice hoarse and desperate.
“Can’t,” Sakura says simply. It’s surprisingly bratty of her, but she hopes she can get something out of it. After all, she has just discovered she’s a grade-A actress.
“I just… baby, you’re r-really slippery,” Kazuha groans, clearly trying to reel herself in and not take her frustration out on her wife.
But that’s the goal. Sakura’s so fucking close to what she wants, she’s almost seeing stars. The bed is creaking underneath them, Kauzha’s hips are snapping hurriedly, sloppy and uncoordinated now, but Sakura knows she can push her just a little bit more.
She keeps wriggling, shifting her body side to side, trying to keep her cool as Kazuha’s brows knit together each time she loses that perfect angle.
Finally reaching the boiling point of her frustration, Kazuha growls and grips onto her, the junction where her neck meets her shoulders, thumbs digging into her collarbones. She grasps, presses, and tightens, her hips snapping forward. Her hands, those gorgeous, strong hands, are now splayed out on Sakura’s shoulder, her full weight leaning into it to pin her down.
Sakura cries out, and something in Kazuha finally hits the realization. Eyes wide and frenzied, Sakura nods, babbling incoherently as her wife figures it out in front of her very eyes. Korean, Japanese, maybe even English, Sakura doesn’t even know what the fuck is coming out of her mouth any more. All she can manage is a wild nod, praying Kazuha will figure it out.
With the realization finally striking her, Kazuha’s hands quickly wrap around Sakura’s neck, her hips pistoning as she lifts herself up. Her wife squeezes experimentally, and Sakura mewls when she sees the muscles in her forearms flex, feels the press of her fingers into her neck like she’s testing the flesh of a summer fruit. Kazuha’s devotion, her attention to detail, means she knows exactly how to read her wife, down to the micromovement. She squeezes once more, softly as if to test, before shifting her weight to cage Sakura’s neck between her hands and squeeze.
Everything feels like it blows up in technicolor. Sakura herself knows she’s about to make a mess, but she doesn’t care. Her hands fly up to wrap around Kazuha’s wrists, to push her to squeeze harder, and Kazuha, staring into her eyes like she can’t bear to look away, complies without hesitation, picking up her own speed.
In her peripheral, Sakura can see their bodies in the mirror beside them. Her own body limp against the mattress like a ragdoll, her wife’s powerful form hovering on top of her, grip clasped around her neck, pounding into her relentlessly as she chases her own high. It looks nothing like the tender, soft quickies they’ve been fitting in lately. It’s not lovemaking— Kazuha is choking her, fucking her, claiming her like she’s something to be claimed, and Sakura feels a sick sense of delight at how her body bounces around with each of her wife’s relentless thrusts.
“Just like that,” Sakura gasps, vision going blurry. “That’s so fucking good baby, don’t—”
“Don’t cum?” Kazuha jumps in, her voice hoarse and her breaths coming out like strained pants.
“Don’t s-stop,” Sakura corrects her, feeling the wave of euphoria rush over her, an almost painful buildup in the pit of her stomach, begging desperately to be released. She drops her hand to rub circles hurriedly into her clit, and within seconds, her orgasm is crashing over her, soaking them both.
At the feeling of Sakura clenching around her, Kazuha’s strokes hid their lewdest volume yet, and with a long, drawn out groan, she staggers forward and empties herself inside of her wife, shoving herself forward to stuff Sakura full. Her hands finally unclasp from around Sakura’s neck, and she gasps an inhale so deep, it has her clamping around Kazuha as a second wave strikes over her, the pleasure surging through her body.
Kazuha releases her grip on Sakura’s legs, on her arms, on her neck, on whatever part of her she’s grabbing, and gently unsheathes herself. Sakura twitches at the feeling: the warm drip down onto the mattress, the cool wet spot beneath them that she can’t quite tell between if it’s sweat, Kazuha’s wet hair, or Sakura’s unexpected squirting. All she knows is that she’s lightheaded in the best way, her lingerie is probably ruined at this point, and Kazuha’s weight on top of her feels delicious, regardless of how sordidly sticky their skin feels against each other.
Personally, Sakura doesn’t mind being sticky. In fact, that might be something she discovered comes with the territory of being in love with Kazuha: when it comes to this gorgeous specimen of a woman, the messier, the better.
A soft kiss against her temple reminds her that she’s here, cuddled up with a woman so tender, she can hardly believe it was the same human that just rearranged her guts only moments ago.
Kazuha’s voice is so tiny, so soft, like she’s afraid to intrude on Sakura’s thoughts.
“You okay?”
The older woman lets out a small laugh. She’s so blissed out, relishing in her wife’s weight crushing her from above, she actually can’t think about anything other than how insanely lucky she is.
“If I die tonight, I die happy,” she hums. She traces circles into Kazuha’s back, her fingernails dragging into the smooth skin, feeling the bands of gorgeous, taut muscle over the dips of her ribs.
“Was that okay?”
Kazuha’s voice is still so delicate, but Sakura can nearly feel the wag of an invisible tail, eager to know she’s done the right thing. Her darling puppy, so desperate to please.
“Ten out of ten,” Sakura chuckles. A quick kiss against Kazuha’s shoulder, another one for good measure, and she finally feels the sweet angel relaxing on top of her. She peppers soft kisses along Kazuha’s neck, ending at her jaw, into her temple. “You have a very happy wife.”
“M’sleepy,” Kazuha yawns.
“Go to sleep.” She pats her back, one quick smack of her wife’s ass just for good measure. “You put in work. I’m surprised you’re still awake, actually.”
“You’re so perfect.” Kazuha nuzzles into Sakura’s cheek, her nose rubbing circles into the side of the woman’s face. “I love you so much. Thanks for this.”
“I love you too,” Sakura presses a kiss into her forehead, and as if she’s given her permission, she feels Kazuha exhale deeply, her muscles all relaxing to allow her to practically melt on top of Sakura.
Kazuha likes to be little spoon, and Sakura loves being crushed underneath her weight, so this has been a delightful position they’ve found themselves in for the past few months to enjoy aftercare or even simple cuddle time. Sakura reaches behind herself for something, fishing for her phone and another little device, and lets the smooth soft planes of her wife’s back serve as her table.
It’s only a few moments later that she expects to hear the soft breaths of a sleeping woman, but instead she’s met by a gentle, curious voice, Kazuha’s lips grumbling against her shoulder.
“Baby?”
Sakura hums. “Yes my love.”
A pause, as if Kazuha is trying to feel what Sakura has propped against her back, her arms looped behind her head and peering over her shoulder.
“Baby, are you playing Pokopia?”
Well, yes, her Switch was hiding underneath the pillows, because Sakura needed to keep herself busy while she waited for her wife to get to her room. So what if she’s tending to her island while Kazuha dozes off? It’s practically their nightly routine.
“Waiting for you to nap and then get horny again,” Sakura says simply. Her eyes stay fixed on the screen. “I was gonna wake you up when you got hard. Surprise you.”
Sakura can feel Kazuha grin against her skin.
“Nice.”
A comfortable silence, and Sakura swears Kazuha is finally falling back asleep, but it’s broken just a few moments later.
“Baby?”
God, Kazuha and her endless questions.
“Yes, my love,” Sakura says, trying to keep her cool.
“Please don’t tell me this was Yunjin’s idea.”
Sakura tries to keep on her poker face, her voice going flat. Kazuha is a humble woman, but she’s no idiot.
“It wasn’t Yunjin’s idea,” Sakura says blandly, and she already knows Kazuha can make meaning of her sarcasm.
“Oh god…” Kazuha groans, burying her face in Sakura’s shoulder. “Oh, oh god. Please… please don’t tell me the kids are with her…”
Sakura doesn’t miss a beat, grimacing.
“The kids aren’t with her.”
Her wife knows her all too well. Kazuha curses in Japanese, covering her face with her hands.
“Someone is going to break a limb, and then Wonhee is going to throw up, and Yunjin is going to panic and it’s going to be a mess, Chaewon’s going to yell, Moka can’t handle yelling, Iroha’s gonna get lost in the mix—” Kazuha has to stop herself from her panicked rambles. Sakura admits it’s cute that they both know their family so well, worrying about the exact same things, but she also should have known that Kazuha wouldn’t be at peace without knowing her family is safe and accounted for. “I’m really sorry, baby, this was incredible and all… But…. Can we…?”
“Can you go again, and then we go get them?” Sakura asks, her eyes lighting up. Kazuha, unfortunately, has a point, but she hopes the compromise is enough. “I was trying to play it cool… but, yeah, the more I think about it, the less I want Yunjin as their trusted adult.”
“The girls…” Kazuha whines hesitantly.
Sakura can’t complain, so she won’t. Devoted wife, passionate about their family, the only thing she cares about is being the best possible version of whatever they need her to be. Sakura is lucky in ways other people could only imagine in their wildest dreams.
“I hear you, I do, but I still want you to fuck my brains out,” Sakura pleads, peppering gentle kisses against her wife’s temple. Kazuha’s worried face is so fucking cute, Sakura might just go crazy trying to calm her down. She smiles, dipping down to press a kiss into her wife’s pout, tapping her chin with her finger. “One more round, then we pick them up, family sleepover in the living room?”
Kazuha beams and nods eagerly.
“Perfect,” Sakura smiles, and Kazuha’s shining eyes meeting hers are all she needs.