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hwaslvtt · 1 year ago

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whichever way [woosan x reader] pt8

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff-ish, neighbours au, friends with benefits

ch. summary: You get to play with Wooyoung.

wc: 10k

ch. warnings: smut with subtext, everyone’s a switch but dom reader / San & sub Wooyoung for the first half, voyeurism / exhibitionism, sex tapes, BDSM, blindfold & bondage / shibari (@ Wooyoung), finger sucking, blow / hand job, sex toys; cock ring & riding crop (@ Wooyoung) & buttplug (@ reader), dirty talk, pain kink, impact play, dacryphilia, objectification, degradation kink, praise kink, Wooyoung is referred to as; ‘good boy’, ‘babygirl’, ‘(fuck)toy’ & ‘(pain)slut’, reader fantasises abt having a cock and Wooyoung sucking her off, copious amount of spit, scunnilingus, vaginal / anal fingering (@ reader), DP with a toy, creampie, condomless sex with IUD, masturbation, mention of San tiddies, safe word checks; ‘green’ & ‘yellow’ are used, aftercare, pet names for reader (‘baby’ and ‘good girl’)

a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns.

a/n²: subtext aside, this chapter is pure smut lol — but the next one will get more into relationship development! (ᵔ◡ᵔ) there’s a pretty direct nod back to smth in the previous chapter so i hope it’s not been too long between updates, but i think it will still work either way! ♡

masterlist. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

“There, your throne is all ready, princess,” San grins at you, spreading his hands in a flourish to present Wooyoung, showcased on the bed for your pleasure.

And a pleasure it is; Wooyoung sits up against the headboard with both hands secured to a bedpost, vivid red rope laid across his wrists with a simple column tie. Less simple is the mermaid tie that San used to trap Wooyoung’s legs together from knees to ankles, loops upon loops of crimson twisted around his limbs; just as effective at immobilising Wooyoung as it is aesthetically pleasing to the eyes.

(You’d had an unexpectedly relaxing time while San did his ropework, a hush in the bedroom as you quietly chatted and joked together; San kept his focus on perfecting the looping patterns, but there was always a smile on his face whenever you and Wooyoung broke out in a sudden giggle of anticipation. His practised fingers had proved their skill, tying Wooyoung up with swift precision — but you almost wished it had taken longer, enjoying the odd intimacy of your small pre-scene bubble.)

“‘Throne’?” Wooyoung snorts at San’s invitation, right as you laugh a surprised, “‘Princess’?” It’s not exactly in San’s usual arsenal of nicknames of you.

San shrugs, his bright grin undiminished. “We can try something else! Um… Your saddle is ready, cowgirl?” he says, giving you a wink. “Here is your altar, goddess?”

“I can’t tell if these are getting better or worse!”

“I can,” Wooyoung says, trying to be deadpan but his voice comes out strained. He shifts against the ropes, restless from all the attention you are not paying to him. “C’mon, can we get on with it?”

They’re the words of a brat — but there is a telling neediness in his eyes as he looks at you, utterly incapacitated. You bite your lip at the tightness in his face; and the rapidly growing wetness between your legs is just as telling of need.

You throw a leg across Wooyoung’s thighs to straddle him, careful not to touch the semi he’s been sporting ever since San first lined a rope just above his knees. “What’s the rush, Woo?” you coo at him, running a teasing finger up his chest. “You’re not going anywhere, we got all the time in the world.”

Wooyoung pouts at your light touch, but he visibly relaxes with you on top of him. “No rush,” he grins, and there is a bit more strength to the cockiness in his voice. “Just wanted to make sure you didn’t forget about me.”

Your fingers slowly walk up his throat, where you both see and feel him swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing underneath your fingertips.

“Aw, feeling neglected?” you grin, pressing your thumb down against the mole on his bottom lip.

Wooyoung’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, catching your thumb as he does so. “A little,” he says, breathy already. “Thought you wanted to play with me tonight, not joke around with San.”

He moans sharply when your hand suddenly dives into his dark hair to yank his head back, exposing his neck to your teeth. Your bite is not enough to leave a mark, but plenty to leave a warning.

“I only play with nice toys,” you whisper sweetly, your lips ghosting against his ear. Your fingers relax to gently weave through Wooyoung’s hair, brushing the longish strands out of his face. “Are you gonna be nice to me?”

“Shit,” Wooyoung groans at the saccharine purr in your voice, “you’re really excited about this, aren’t you?” There is a pleased gleam of approval in his eyes.

Wooyoung is absolutely right; you are thrilled. He is all but helpless beneath you, tied up and antsy for your touch. How could you not be excited?

You have flirted with dominance in the past, but this is the first time you are in such complete control. Even San has taken a backseat; watching you and Wooyoung from the very chair that you had first watched them. His head is cocked to the side, piercing interest etched into his face — but he is only an observer to you and Wooyoung… for now.

“Yeah, I’m excited,” you grin at Wooyoung, giddy anticipation bubbling up and threatening to spill over the brim, and it takes an active effort to not break character. “But you did not answer my question.”

You grab for one of the items laying next to you, and lift your hand up to dangle a strip of ivory silk in front of his face.

“So. Are you a good little toy? Will you behave today?”

Just the sight of the blindfold causes Wooyoung’s breath to shallow, then his eyes dart back to you. Something burns in those dark eyes; something that can’t decide whether it is needy want or blatant defiance — but Wooyoung’s mouth has decided loud and clear. “Will you make me?”

“Hm,” you tut disappointedly, putting down the blindfold, “maybe I’ll go and joke around with San after all. If you’re going to be like that.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widen with alarm when your weight shifts off of him, his hands jerking against the restraints. “Ahh, no no, don’t—” he starts as you move away. “Stay, stay.”

(San chuckles quietly at the sudden change of heart, appreciative of how you’d used him as a tool to keep Wooyoung in line.)

You settle back on top of Wooyoung, marvelling at how the tension instantly falls away from him. Being completely tied up always makes him needier, but you are still taken aback by his need for you, for your touch. Like he can’t bear to part with you for even a second. A light current of electricity crackles through your veins, causing small sparks from the ever increasing awareness of how much power you hold over him right now.

“There you go, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” you ask Wooyoung, your sweetened smile that drips with disdain. “You’re a well-behaved toy after all.”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung says breathily as he tilts his head back, exposing his neck to you freely this time around. “I’ll be the best fucking toy you ever played with.”

You bite down a moan at how pliantly he offers himself up to you. You accept his offer and press a hungry, open-mouthed kiss on the pretty column of his neck, right on a protruding vein. Your tongue catches against his heartbeat, every pulse throbbing with hot desire.

“Want me to use you?” you rasp, lightly grazing your teeth across his skin.

He whines at the excitement laced in your voice. “Whatever way you want,” he says tightly. “Just— Just don’t want you to go.”

Your eyes meet, and for a split-second you falter at the intensity of his gaze; like he is talking about so much more than just right here, right now. Your heart softens at his need, reaching a hand to gently cup his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere,” you promise him, and your thighs clench at how he melts under your touch. “Now, let’s have some fun, hm?”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung sighs, beaming at you with a crooked smile. No cockiness, only anticipation.

Obediently, he bends his head just enough to let you put the blindfold in place. You tie the piece of silk around him, covering his eyes, and he inhales with a light shudder as sight is deprived from his senses. You make sure the knot is not too tight, and check if Wooyoung can still rest comfortably against the headboard.

Once it’s all done, you sit back to admire Wooyoung to take in the toe-curling view of him, completely and utterly at your disposal.

The blindfold’s ivory contrasts beautifully against Wooyoung’s tanned skin, almost giving him a soft glow; and the mole on his cheek peeks out from just underneath the fabric. His lean chest rises and falls with bated breaths, the red ropes keeping him firmly in place while he can do nothing but wait for you to make your move.

You lean into him with a languid sigh, one hand resting on his chest, the other playing with a lock of his hair. Your lips are a mere inch away from his; and Wooyoung has no idea of just how close you are.

The sheer depths of control you have over him now is dizzyingly overwhelming — and it’s a control that Wooyoung matches with equal depths of trust, willingly giving himself over to you. You can’t help a quiet moan at his subservience, steady pulses of arousal causing your cunt to leak onto Wooyoung’s thighs.

Wetness smears across his skin, and Wooyoung lets out a sharp groan when he realises what it is. “F-fuck,” he gasps, his hands bunching into fists before they relax again. “Baby…”

Wooyoung trails off with his lips slightly parted, his plump cupid’s bow begging for your attention. He whines when your nose brushes against his, and he arches forward in clear anticipation of a kiss — but two fingers firmly press against his bottom lip instead.

He lets out a surprised moan but does not hesitate for even a moment, slurping them down greedily. Your breath catches as his tongue swirls against your fingers, saliva rapidly gathering in his mouth and coating your kin.

Soon, a small trickle spills past his lips, messy and enticing. You eagerly lick up the trail, relishing Wooyoung’s shudder. “That’s it, that’s a good boy,” you praise him, and start a rhythm of slowly thrusting your fingers. “So hungry for something to stuff that mouth full. Do you suck San’s cock like this too?”

(San shifts at the mention of his name, readjusting the crotch of his jeans.)

“Hmah,” Wooyoung garbles, more spit dribbling down his chin as he starts to move his head best he can, hollowing his cheeks and curving his tongue around you. He forces your fingers deeper, deeper inside his throat, until he constricts around you with a choked moan. You bite down a whine, wiggling your hips against his lap to relieve some of the pressure building in your untouched cunt.

“God, look at you. So eager to get that tight throat fucked you’ll take anything,” you groan. Your own mouth is just as hungry as Wooyoung’s, pressing heated kisses along his jawline. “You’d suck my cock so well, wouldn’t you? Should get a strap just so I can see you choke while I fuck that pretty mouth.”

A loud, muffled whimper escapes Wooyoung, vibrating around your fingers. You can’t help but wonder what it’d be like, to have every inch of you throbbing in the wet heat of his mouth, completely engulfed with pleasure while Wooyoung’s throat spasms around you as he milks you dry for all you’re worth.

The fantasy shoots down your cunt like lightning, and you tear your fingers away in sudden impatience. You stick your tongue down Wooyoung’s throat instead, meeting him in a sloppy tangle. He makes a surprised noise, but quickly sucks on your tongue with the same fervour he’d given your fingers.

A heady daze settles over you as you tug at Wooyoung’s hair to angle him just how you like, groaning into his mouth with growing desperation. He squirms underneath you, stifled moans drawn from his lips, but you want more, more.

“H-hey, no no don’t—” Wooyoung mewls, straining against the ropes when your mouth and hands pull away from him.

“Shh, I’m right here, babygirl,” you soothe him, and press your palm solidly against his chest, just so he can feel you. “’M not going anywhere, not when you’re laid out so prettily for me. Fuck, wish you could see yourself, served up on a platter, so fucking sexy.”

You keep up your steady stream of praise, careful to keep a point of physical contact with Wooyoung as you move down the bed, your hand running down his torso, down to his hips, his thigh, along every inch of feverish skin.

San had been insistent on that; always stay connected to Wooyoung when he is both tied up and blindfolded, either verbally or through touch. Give him something to anchor himself to, give him a piece of yourself so he does not get lost.

At the right moment, it gets Wooyoung off to be ignored a little, to either make him get bratty or work for the attention. This is not the right moment.

And even with his arms tied, you can feel how Wooyoung clings onto you; his body arching into your hand, moaning quietly at your words. He shudders when your breath falls on his hipbone, just shy of his half-hard cock.

“Hm, gonna suck me off?” he asks impatiently, shifting in an attempt to find your mouth, chasing the warm air of your exhales.

You pinch lightly at his thigh, causing Wooyoung to grunt at the unexpected sting. “Not if you’re gonna be pushy about it,” you tut. “Besides, there is something else to take care of first.”

You reach for a small item that lies in wait on the bed, along with some lube. Wooyoung makes a noise when your hand leaves his waist, but you adjust your body to push a little firmer against his legs, the loops of his mermaid tie pressing into your skin.

“Still here, Wooyoungie,” you assure him. “Just getting a little toy for my toy, so I can get the most out of him.”

“W-what is it?” he asks, his arms tensing against the restraints.

You know his mind must be racing right now; you and San had readied an assortment of playthings on purpose, just so Wooyoung can only guess at which you’ll use. The ball gag, the leather riding crop? The buttplug, the small bullet vibrator? More than one? All of them?

A tempting thought, but for now… It is the innocent-looking, silicone cock ring that you take between thumb and forefinger, carefully dabbing it with a few thick drops of lube.

“You’re about to find out, babygirl,” you purr at Wooyoung, and put a steadying hand on his hip.

He tenses in anticipation, and jerks against your fingers when the ring slides down his cock to rest at the base. You lean in to lightly flick your tongue at his reddened tip, your feathery touch enough to make Wooyoung moan again. It’s more awkward to position yourself with his legs tied, no space for you to nestle between his thighs, but still you manage to comfortably drape yourself over him and sink your mouth down on his cock.

It’s not frenzied, not like how Wooyoung sucked on your fingers before. Instead you work his length with steady passes, amusement sparking in your cunt when his hips try to cant upward, whiny gasps of your name escaping his lips as you take your time with him. You can feel Wooyoung harden on your tongue, his blood surging down and trapped by the silicone ring as he plumps up into a snug fit. You hum contently at the salty taste of precum, your nose brushing against his pelvis.

You meet San’s eyes right then, with Wooyoung’s cock nudging the back of your throat, and a jolt sears through you at the moment of contact.

He is leaned forward with an elbow on his knees, fingertips playing at his bottom lip. His other hand is pressed against his crotch, squeezing himself as he watches with dark, piercing eyes how you take care of his boyfriend. Something primal lurks in those eyes, hungry and protective all at once, but San nods at you in silent approval.

A sharp heat stirs in your core, knowing exactly what this means to San.

San has told you how responsible he feels for Wooyoung during a scene. You know how seriously he takes this — and now he has entrusted that responsibility to you.

You pull away from Wooyoung’s cock with a wet noise. A thin string of spit connects from the flushed tip to your lips, stretching until it snaps, and his shaky whimper sings through your heated blood. He is trembling, every sensation inflicted on him intensified by the blindfold, the bondage, the cock ring; to the point that he’s almost overwhelmed just by the brief attention of your mouth.

“You okay, Woo?” you ask, running a gentle hand over his thigh. “It fits right, not painful?”

Wooyoung bites down a whine, drawing a few sharp breaths through his nose so he can speak up. “D-doesn’t hurt, no.”

There is a shine of sweat gathering on his skin already, his cock looking thicker than usual, and you spot light muscle tremors in his stomach. “Colour?” you ask, just to be sure. You won’t let San’s trust in you be misplaced; or for Wooyoung to be anything but completely safe in your hands.

“Green, yeah,” he nods, oh so eager despite looking like he is on the brink already. “So green. Fuck, want you to touch me…”

His voice is pure blissful anguish, jaw falling slack with a loud moan when you settle back in his lap and satisfy his plea. “Doing so well for me, Wooyoungie,” you hum, fingers wrapped around his oversensitive cock, the pad of your thumb teasing at his leaking slit. “San is so generous, letting me play with you as much as I like.”

San’s attention flickers from Wooyoung’s wretched features up to you. His eyes are like black embers, the force of his gaze burning into you like a furnace. His face is drawn, furrowed lines etched between his brows as his lips slowly curve into a sharp, crooked grin, just a hint of teeth — and from the look of him, San would like nothing more than to sink those teeth into you and Wooyoung both.

“Nothing generous about it,” he says, a low growl lurking in the very edge of his voice. “I’m the one who gets to watch you break my fucktoy down into a sniffling, whiny mess.”

“He is real pretty like this, isn’t he?” you coo, running a hand up Wooyoung’s tensed stomach. His abdominal muscles twitch, a choked sob escaping him as he listens in on your and San’s conversation. “And he’ll be so much prettier after I’ve ruined him. Would be a shame if he never saw himself like that. Don’t you think he deserves to be the one on camera for once, Sannie?”

Immediately, Wooyoung’s volume control slips further out of his grasp, high-pitched and unintelligible whines catching on his breath. He strains against the bindings, the veins on his forearms more prominent than ever as his fingers grip at the rope tying him to the bedposts.

San’s eyes darken as he recognises his cue. Gracefully he unfurls himself from the chair, grabbing a small camcorder from the nightstand as he heads over. Wooyoung’s camcorder, a brand new purchase.

Wooyoung bites his lip when he feels the mattress dip under San’s added weight. “Make sure San gets my good side, alright?” he rasps at you. “He can’t take a picture worth a damn, don’t trust him to handle a camera either.”

You snort a laugh, mostly at the way San’s shoulders drop as he levels Wooyoung with a flat look that goes completely unseen by his blindfolded boyfriend.

“You’re getting sassy now?” you say, playfully tapping Wooyoung’s nose. “Bold, my beautiful cheeky boy, real bold.”

Wooyoung just grins, fearless, tongue running across his teeth. “Hey, I’m off-limits to San today. I can sass him all I want, right?”

It takes some effort on his part, but San does refrain from intervening. His tongue prods at the inside of his cheek as he raises an eyebrow at you in question, and you give a little nod to assure him it’s taken care of.

With that, San takes a slow breath and releases; entrusting you to handle it. He shucks off his t-shirt and slides in behind you, resting a large hand on your hip while his firm, muscular chest presses up against your back. His heat radiates into your skin as he tucks his chin on your shoulder, casually holding up the camcorder to capture Wooyoung on film.

“You can sass San all you like,” you hum at Wooyoung, reaching for one of the other props lying next to you, “but I think you’re forgetting about something.”

“Hm?”

“Me.”

Wooyoung’s breath catches when a soft patch of leather draws across his chest. His head tilts as he tries to identify the object, and he stills when he comes to his conclusion. “…Crop?”

“Bingo.” You give the riding crop a light twist of your wrist, snapping against Wooyoung’s skin without real force of impact. He still whines, completely on edge.

“Shit,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “It’s gonna be like that?”

“Afraid so,” you say with a pained, exaggerated sigh, slowly running the crop’s flap up Wooyoung’s chest until it presses against the side of his neck. “It’ll be like that until you apologise to San. Now, smile for the camera, won’t you?”

A bead of sweat runs down Wooyoung’s forehead, soaked up by the ivory blindfold. He swallows thickly at the sudden pressure on his neck, but it doesn’t deter him. “Apologise? What for? Sannie really can’t— hmnh!”

The crop strikes against the same place on Wooyoung’s chest as earlier, slightly harder. He jerks forward with a choked shudder, a budding redness marking the spot. The corner of his mouth twitches — as does his cock, flushed and glossy with precum and spit.

Wooyoung whimpers when your free hand cups his face, but he quickly sinks into the gentle touch. You run your thumb along his cheekbone, brushing against the blindfold. “So good to me,” you chuckle, amused at the way he tries to nuzzle into your hand. “You can’t extend that favour to San?”

He only huffs and presses a messy kiss against your palm, then another. Blatantly needy for you, blatantly ignoring your question; and you decide he has had plenty of warning.

“Mmh!”

The next swat of the crop draws a sharp, high-pitched keen from Wooyoung. His chest heaves, panting heavily as the sting fades away and leaves a new reddened blemish in its wake.

“Fuck,” you breathe at the sight of him; quiet awe in your voice, your heartbeat pulsing hard between your thighs.

A translucent wet gleam gathers on his stomach where the tip of his cock rests, leaking steadily. Wooyoung’s body had stiffened with tension on the moment of impact, but now he slowly goes slack again, mouth hanging open as he draws hard breaths. He groans when your thumb slips past his lips to press on his tongue, drool threatening to spill over.

“Are you getting this, Sannie?” you ask, using the crop to draw slow circles around Wooyoung’s newly marked skin.

San hums in confirmation, keeping the camera steady. “Such a pretty mark you left on him. Think he’d be even prettier with more.”

Wooyoung moans around your thumb, squirming against the patch of leather in anticipation.

“Tch,” San scoffs. “Look at that, how much he wants it. Your little toy is too much of a painslut to ever apologise.”

Your toy. A small yet significant change from how San spoke before; his relinquishment of Wooyoung over to you now fully complete. You swallow down a sudden lump, taken aback by how deeply a simple degrading phrase has hit you.

Wooyoung lets out a high whine at San’s words, twisting against his bindings and your weight in his lap. The sound snaps your focus right back to him, all else forgotten at the sight of his desperate state. His teeth graze against your thumb as he shudders, saliva slowly trickling down his chin.

You withdraw your thumb to lightly pinch at his cheek. “Is that true, Woo? Are you my little painslut?” you purr at him, landing another light smack with the crop — and the resulting cry is an unmistakable affirmative. “So you like it that much… Well, we’ll see how long you last.”

“Please…” he moans weakly, aimless, not begging for any one specific thing except for your attention.

You smile slowly, fully intent on giving him just that. You shift forward ever so slightly, Wooyoung’s cock only barely brushing up against your cunt. Wooyoung’s breath hitches at the unexpected feel of your glistening folds, giving a tentative twitch of his hips. He manages to just graze against your clit, but it’s enough for a moan to bubble up from your lips — a soft moan, that Wooyoung still hears loud and clear.

Even that tiny sign of your pleasure is enough to make Wooyoung whine again, and he clumsily tries to hump into you, hungry for more of your sounds. His movements are too restricted for any proper stimulation, but that does not stop him from the attempt.

You don’t stop him either; too amused by the awkward jerk of his hips, too enraptured by the way he groans your name in a stutter, mingled with raspy swears as he tries and fails to please you and himself. Instead you whisper encouragements at him, sweet yet cruel as you giggle at his ineffective rut. You run your free hand over his sweat-slicked chest, lightly thumbing at his sensitive nipples, just to tease him closer to that edge he can’t get to.

But you let him keep trying, revelling in every frustrated moan, every meager spark of pleasure… until you are convinced he is too lost in his chase to still remember the crop.

Without his sight, Wooyoung has nothing to warn him when you lift the crop up again; only the softest whistle through the air as the leather flap swats down on him out of nowhere. He cries out at the sting, a lone tear trickling down from underneath his blindfold as he convulses against your body and his rope bindings.

San groans softly from behind you at the sight, warm lips briefly pressing against your neck as his hand squeezes your waist. His fingers are clenched around the camcorder, still dutifully recording.

“Greedy boy,” you grin at Wooyoung. “Thinks he’s gonna get off easy without apologising to San, hm?”

This time Wooyoung is better prepared when the leather bites at his skin, but he still groans tightly at the fresh mark, closer to his nipple than the last.

You press your free hand on his hip to hold him down. “Keep still now,” you whisper in his ear. “Wouldn’t want to mess up my aim, right?”

Wooyoung shudders at the sudden closeness. He turns his head, neck craning as though to find you in a kiss; and you fail to resist indulging him, gifting him a soft press of your lips, a slight brush of your tongue.

You pull back far too quickly to his liking, and Wooyoung fusses at the loss — but then you flick the crop again and pain blends into the neediness of his voice, debauched and beautiful.

His voice rises in pitch when you slowly roll your hips into him, it all the more difficult for him to obey your command to stay in place. But Wooyoung tries, he tries so hard, trembling every time you find a target on his chest. He chews his bottom lip raw with stuttered breaths, more tears spilling past his blindfold at every hit; but Wooyoung knows exactly what he needs to say to make you stop, so you keep going.

Sitting in his lap, pressed up close to him, you can’t quite swing the crop in full force — but that is no problem, not when Wooyoung already tethers on the edge of being overwhelmed. Even like this, there is enough strength behind the impacts to sear through him like he is struck by thunder, unending whimpers escaping past his bite-swollen lips.

Between impacts, you tease Wooyoung with gentle strokes to signal where the leather flap will land next; except when it’s a misdirection, and you pull back for a second just to aim elsewhere. His dick twitches against your cunt, precum oozing generously from the tip with every hit, every twist of your hips. You try to angle yourself so the cock ring catches against your clit, the different sensation adding another layer of pleasure to your slow, rocking pace.

San hisses out a low growl every time you push back into him; he has deliberately kept to the background as a fiery yet unobtrusive witness, but the obvious bulge in his jeans betrays how worked up he is.

“Fuck, I’m gonna have so much fun watching the recording later,” you purr at Wooyoung, trailing the crop back up to his neck for a moment of respite. He knows you won’t hit him there, but he still fidgets at the pressure, his breath coming in hard pants. His skin is flushed with sweat and red marks and feverish need. “Gonna get myself off over and over again, seeing you break down into such a wreck. Do you hear yourself, Woo? What a whiny boy you are for me, crying so prettily.”

Another sob breaks through, his arms shaking. His breath hitches when the crop starts to traverse back downward, knowing his respite is coming to an end.

“Or you could eat me out while I watch it,” you muse, circling the crop around his nipple, still sore from an earlier hit. “Stick that clever tongue down my cunt while you listen to yourself falling apart. I’d get two of you at once, god, just imagine how wet I’d be, dripping all over your face. Cum twice as hard too, right on your tongue. Would you like that, hm?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Yeah?” you giggle back at him, so cloyingly sweet it reverses back into mockery. “Well, we can do all of that… all thanks to San.”

San nips at your neck, his hand on your waist squeezing restlessly — but meanwhile, your idly talk has distracted Wooyoung just long enough that the low whistle of the crop swinging down catches him off guard completely once again, his entire body snapping taut at the impact.

“So…” You gently swat at him one more time, the touch almost soothing in comparison, “what do you say, Wooyoungie?”

Wooyoung lets out a feeble sniffle, his cheeks glistening wetly. He mumbles a weak “sorry”.

Carefully, you bring your hand up to cup his jaw, brushing away his tears. “What’s that?”

“S-sorry, San,” Wooyoung says again, his voice a little clearer this time. “Thank y-you for filming me.”

Right away, the riding crop falls forgotten onto the bed, and your now empty hand reaches to touch Wooyoung’s face; so he also knows the crop is gone.

“Fuck, you did so well,” you murmur, pressing a shallow kiss on his lips. “Such a good boy for me.”

You pepper his face with more soft kisses, as gentle as you can; Wooyoung looks close to overwhelmed, and his cock is still nestled between your folds, hard and aching. If not for the cock ring, he likely would’ve had his release long ago. You run soothing fingers through his hair, almost displacing the blindfold. “Wanna cum, my sweet boy?”

“Mhyeah,” he whines shakily, and you smile into another tender kiss.

But when your hands shift away from his face, down his neck and to his shoulders, Wooyoung shakes his head and whines a little louder.

“No, w-wait,” he hiccups, and immediately your fingers are back in his hair, one hand kneading the nape of his neck.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. I’m here. What do you need, Wooyoung?”

He swallows, his breaths coming easier now that you are soothing him. “Can the blindfold come off?”

“Of course, of course it can,” you say quietly, giving him a little peck on the nose.

You reach for the knot and soon the ivory cloth falls away; Wooyoung’s eyes are bleary and unfocused at first — but they brighten at the sight of you. “There you are,” he croaks, and his wide, relieved smile clenches around your heart.

“Yeah, here I am,” you assure him, a little shaken by the force of his expression. Your own lips curl up in response to his dopey grin. “Can you give me a colour?”

“Green, now I can see you, b-but I can’t…” he mewls, squirming futilely, pushing his hips into yours. “Please, I gotta cum…”

“Fuck,” you groan, running a hand down his flushed chest, brushing against the plethora of red marks. “Don’t worry, my sweet babygirl, I’ll take care of you. Gonna make you feel so good.”

Briefly, your hand swipes through your wet cunt to gather arousal on your fingers, then they firmly wrap around his cock. He is hot and throbbing to the touch, and you don’t make him wait any longer, quickly setting a steady pace.

He keens as he tries to jerk into your hand, eyes squeezing shut and fresh tears brimming on his lashes. San curses from behind you, leaning back so he can catch as much on camera as possible; the slide of your hand, Wooyoung’s wrecked face, and every tremor of his body in-between.

Wooyoung’s mouth falls slack, a tremble in his jaw; his throat is too narrow for the overwhelming pleasure and relief that tries to escape his lungs, moans growing pitchier and more choked as both your hands now work his cock, twisting around the flushed head with every pass.

It does not take long, not now that Wooyoung finally has the stimulation he’s so desperately needed all this time; and when he cums, it is in thick, long spurts that catch on his stomach. You keep up your strokes for a while longer, coaxing more of him to spill out and dribble over your fingers until Wooyoung’s cries die down and he whimpers out a shaky “yellow”, his body perfectly spent.

You slow down right away, monitoring his expression as he softens in your hands. “Need to take the ring off now, okay?” you murmur at him, pressing a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll be gentle, just hang on a little bit, alright? It’s just a moment.”

Wooyoung sniffs tearily but he nods in acknowledgement, and in the background you can hear the click of San closing the camcorder’s viewfinder. You dab a bit of extra lube on the silicone ring, your heart clenching again as Wooyoung bites down a whimper; but then you carefully remove the toy from his overly sensitive cock, and he sags in blissed-out relief.

A comforting warmth ebbs into the bedroom as you help Wooyoung drink some water and San frees his wrists. San moves on to Wooyoung’s legs afterwards, while you take a moment to rub his shoulders, then start to wipe him down.

“So good… made me feel so good,” Wooyoung mumbles sluggishly, lavishing you with the same adoring praise he always gives to San.

A touched giggle bubbles up inside your chest at his affectionate babbling, and you grin while gently patting the sweat off his forehead. “I didn’t take it too far? You were really out of it when I took the blindfold off.”

He shakes his head at you, sighing in relaxation when San frees his legs, starting on massaging his ankles to work his way up. “Nah, not too far. I just… just really needed to see you. Wanted to make sure you were still there.”

You can’t quite pin it down, but something about that answer doesn’t sit entirely right with you. In the moment, you didn’t feel like you had distanced yourself too much from him, using talk and touch to stay in contact, but now you second-guess yourself. However, Wooyoung is tiredly giddy in his fatigued post-orgasmic haze, using his newly freed hands to steal touches against your waist and thighs.

“Wanna make you cum too,” he says, an impatient whine lilting into his voice.

You bite down a fond laugh, concerns forgotten. “Wooyoung, you’re exhausted,” you point out, cleaning crusty streaks of cum off his stomach. “Rest up now, alright? You did so well, please take it easy for me. I’m more than satisfied, I promise.”

It’s the honest truth; even if you didn’t cum, the experience was beyond your expectations. You’re certain you won’t even need the video to recall every moment in vivid detail, and it will fuel many a self-care session in the future.

But Wooyoung is not satisfied, grumbly as he tries to cling to you, even if his every move is sluggish and heavy with tiredness.

“Woo…” you sigh in affectionate exasperation, trying to get him to settle back down. Sure, some days Wooyoung bounces back remarkably fast, but this is clearly not one of those days; he is worn out.

San watches it all with an amused grin, like he is completely unsurprised by Wooyoung’s antics. “Hey Woo,” he says after a moment, when he’s decided you have ‘suffered’ enough, “how about we agree on a compromise?”

Wooyoung’s eyes snap to San, then they wander downward with a longing glance at the still-present bulge in San’s jeans, like he’d rather handle that one personally too. “‘M listening…”

“How about you tell me what you’d like to do, and I’ll do it for you? Make her cum just the way you want,” San says, quirking up an eyebrow. He turns to you with a questioning glance, silently checking in.

A hungry curiosity instantly stirs between your thighs, heat sparking; for San to act on Wooyoung’s instructions? You’ve explored plenty of different dynamics in the bedroom, but never this particular one. It’s a significant contrast to the scene from before, but the more you think about it… An interest is definitely stirring in your body.

Wooyoung’s first instinct is to push back — but his stubborn expression turns thoughtful as the full implications of San’s suggestion sink in. “…Can I film you then?” he asks, licking his lips.

Again, San turns to you in silent question. By means of answering, you pick up the camcorder and make a show of inspecting it, brushing off some imaginary dust, then you hand the camera over to Wooyoung. “Go for it,” you tell him with a teasing grin, “go and show San the difference between a novice and a pro.”

“Hey—”

San pouts at you, but Wooyoung is getting eager now, fully onboard with this turn of events. “What about those?” he asks, gesturing at the unused sex toys lying on the side.

You and San both look them over, and after a moment of honest consideration you veto the ball gag and push it off to the side. “Not that one,” you say; you’re already a little tired from the scene with Wooyoung, nowhere near as exhausted as he is, but enough that you don’t need things to get that intense.

“That’s fine,” Wooyoung says, shaking his head. “Not what I was thinking of anyway. Wanna hear you properly.”

“What are you thinking of?” San asks, his hand idly running up your thigh. “What do you want me to do for you?”

A sharp glint flashes in Wooyoung’s eyes. “First, I wanna eat her out.”

You swallow down an immediate moan. “Wow, now there’s a shocker,” you try to joke, but yelp when San pinches your side, biting his lip at you.

“What, like you aren’t as hungry to grind on that nose as he is to drown himself in that sweet cunt?” San says, quirking his eyebrows. “Don’t pretend you don’t love what a slut for pussy our Wooyoungie is.”

“What can I say?” Wooyoung says with a shameless and crooked smile as he fiddles with the camera. “I know what I like.” His tired eyes twinkle at you, his voice lined with an excited rasp.

The atmosphere rapidly turns into an odd mix of intimate and almost a bit sleazy. Wooyoung directs you and San like it’s his own private little porn set; still lethargic but there is a slight bounce to his energy now, enraptured by the prospect of instructing San to have his way with you, and catching all of it on camera.

It does not take much for you to shift out of your earlier dominant mindset, content to let Wooyoung order you into the position he wants. He also makes himself comfortable, sitting cross-legged against the headboard. He only barely tolerates his boyfriend putting a robe around his shoulders to keep warm, impatiently pushing a pillow into San’s hands and ushering him to get on his knees.

(He does not close the robe, giving you perfect view of the slowly fading red marks scattered across his chest, and a few faint abrasions on his legs from the ropes.)

Wooyoung shakes his head with a “not yet” when San reaches for the button of his jeans; he wants to get that on camera. San pouts at his boyfriend, like he’s contemplating whether he regrets giving Wooyoung so much control over him — but Wooyoung grins and promises he intends for San to get his dick plenty wet tonight.

You clench at that promise, an impatient twitch fluttering in your cunt. You’re simply waiting now; lying on your back across the bed with one leg dangling off the side, the other propped up. Wooyoung is close enough that you can touch him if you reach out; and so you do, running a teasing hand over his ankle in the hopes of speeding this along.

“Anything else, Director-nim?” San asks, only half-joking.

Wooyoung shakes his head. “Nah, just do what you do,” he says, but then he pauses in thought. “Just… make her loud. Make her beg for it.”

“Fuck,” you whine, fully sinking into a submissive state. You can’t help but squirm at the way he does not even bother to give you further instructions; all he wants are your body’s natural responses, to witness how San dutifully breaks you down into a ruined mess.

Wooyoung’s hands are a little shaky as he flips open the camcorder’s viewfinder, pointing the lens straight at you. His grin is downright lecherous, eager to see his vision brought to life.

You shudder at the camera’s attention; earlier, San only caught your voice and glimpses of your appearance, but Wooyoung has you blatantly on display, the main subject of his perverted little movie project. San kneels down in front of you, a mischievous curve at his lips as he rubs a large, warm hand up and down your side, kneading at the soft meat of your waist. His dark eyes pierce into yours, airy puffs of breath falling on your drenched cunt.

You moan and try to arch up to meet him, but San pushes you back down with a firm hand. He looks to Wooyoung with silent intensity, obedience burning in his eyes.

Slowly, Wooyoung pans the camera across the length of your body, down to San who sits in wait. “Yeah, I like that,” Wooyoung murmurs, something catching in his throat. “Go on, get a taste for me, will you?”

San’s cool breaths are replaced with wet heat as he delves in with a quiet groan, using two fingers to part your folds to his obliging lips. His mouth suctions around your clit, his tongue flicking out almost testingly.

Gentle pressure coils inside you, your fingers scraping at the sheets as San picks up a slow but insistent rhythm that has you rocking into his mouth.

“No, no, let her,” Wooyoung rasps when San pins your hips again to hold you still. “Let her take what she needs.” A silent “for now” goes unspoken. “Fuck, I want to bury my face in that eager pussy, look at that fucking slick.”

San makes a pliant noise, immediately burrowing deeper as he presses harder into your cunt. He hooks your knee over his shoulders, making a point of squeezing at your ass as he pulls you impossibly closer against his mouth, all in accordance to Wooyoung’s wishes.

The energy between them is hard to pin down; maybe it’s Wooyoung’s lingering exhaustion, but it’s not like he aggressively bosses San around. San is the willing conduit of Wooyoung’s desires, responsive to even the faintest suggestion, and Wooyoung respects that willingness by not lording his power over San to get his way — it’s not like he has to, anyway.

Because once San gives his singular focus to something, he gives it everything. You can just barely see the faint, pretty flush that creeps over his face as he eats you out with noisy slurps, catching your arousal with broad, urgent swipes of his tongue. Soon enough he has you writhing against him with strangled whines, fucking his face with rapidly escalating desperation, your hands flinging down to tangle in his dark hair.

Wooyoung makes a noise of protest, quickly prying away your hand on the side that blocks his camera’s view — but instead of letting go, his fingers wrap tightly around yours, pressing your entwined hands against the bed.

“Careful, Sannie,” Wooyoung groans, his eyes constantly darting between the viewfinder and the real thing, unfolding right in front of him. “Not too quick. Savour everything she gives us, won’t you?”

San does just so, his fingers digging into your waist and ass to forcibly slow your rut down. A low growl slips past his lips, shiny with your essence, while he drinks deep with a rich hunger that holds its own in comparison to Wooyoung’s. Obscene squelches drift through the bedroom along with your pitiful whimpers, both caught by Wooyoung’s camera for prosperity.

Your mind starts to get hazy, coated in the intensity of San’s fingers digging so hard into your ass that you anticipate bruises, his mouth back at sucking on your clit to coax more slick from your trembling body.

This is a somewhat rare occasion; San does not actually give you head all that often. It’s not that San has no taste for it, it just happens to turn out that way when Wooyoung loves having his face used by you, you love using him, and San loves to facilitate that usage.

However, now San fully throws himself in this opportunity, groaning indulgently against your throbbing cunt as you drench his face with your tangy arousal. His vigorous attentiveness to your pleasure more than compensates for a lack of practice. Obediently he carries out Wooyoung’s instructions; not too quick, careful to extract as much out of your body as he can without allowing you to come undone on his tongue — but after your scene with Wooyoung, you have no energy left for dignity.

“P-please, Wooyoungie, wanna cum,” you whine, tugging at his hand as you turn your head to face him. A fresh jolt sears through your abdomen when you see the camcorder is pointed right at you again, documenting every second of your descend into mindless desperation, frame by frame. You only whine louder, convulsing against San’s hold as pleas tumble past your lips in a shameless appeal to Wooyoung’s mercy.

Wooyoung squeezes your hand, grin widening in delight at the footage you are providing him. “Good girl,” he hums, “making such pretty faces for the camera. Can’t wait to show you… You gonna watch this video too when I eat you out for real? Make a double feature out of it, starring you and me and our hard-working Sannie here.”

San groans at the praise, the vibrations rippling through your oversensitive cunt.

“Y-yeah, fuck please, please, let me cum…” you sob, your nails digging into Wooyoung’s hand. “So close, ‘m so close—”

Wooyoung huffs a quiet laugh. “What, you wanna cum while San hasn’t even had his cock touched yet?” he jeers. “Does that sound right to you, baby?”

With every mention of his name, San gets sloppier, his breaths shuddering as he laps at you with messy passes of his tongue. You sob when his teeth graze against your clit, and you pull roughly at his hair in a futile attempt to get San on top of you and immediately rectify the problem of him not having his cock touched. He grunts at the force of your grip, eyes rolling to the back of his head; but without an instruction from Wooyoung to move, San refuses to budge.

“Ahh, don’t worry baby, I’m just teasing,” Wooyoung giggles at your despair. “Can’t wait to see you fall to pieces for me. Look at you, you’re tearing up already… Gonna be such a mess when you cum, aren’t you? Just… one thing first. San?”

Wooyoung pans the camera over just as San pulls back, his face glossy from nose to chin, cheeks flushed. He is panting hard, with mussed-up hair and shaky eyes.

“You still good to go, Sannie?” Wooyoung asks, gentle concern woven into the question. “We’re almost there, alright?”

With decadent swipes of his tongue, San licks your juices off his lips, a renewed clarity kindling to life in his eyes at the sound of Wooyoung’s voice. “Yeah,” he says hoarsely. “What do you need? Tell me.” San grounds out the words like he is the one handing out commands now, and Wooyoung is quick to obey.

You whine when Wooyoung lets go of your hand to grab at the ignored toys — but you quiet down when you see what Wooyoung has picked. San’s grin is all teeth when he realises where Wooyoung plans to go with this.

“You really want to see her ruined today, hm?” San hums approvingly as he inspects the buttplug that Wooyoung just handed to him, along with the lube. “What do you say, baby? Gonna let me stuff both of your pretty holes for Wooyoungie?”

Not trusting your voice, you make a weak noise and tilt up your hips, angling your ass to San for better access. The gesture is met by a pleased groan from Wooyoung, and a blazing look from San as he hones in on your tight hole, perfectly on display for him.

You wiggle in anticipation as he squeezes at your asscheek and spreads you a little wider — so it is a surprise when San takes your hand to lube up your fingers first. “Be a good girl and get that pussy ready for me while I take care of the rest, alright?” he says, thoroughly coating your fingers with a slow, squelching slide.

“Y-yes San,” you say, the words barely making it past your throat.

San kisses the tip of your fingers and then guides your hand down, where you easily slip inside your soaked cunt with a lewd noise. You groan at the satisfying stretch, and soon enough a combination of lube, arousal and remnants of San’s saliva dribbles down to where San rubs his own slicked up finger around the sensitive rim of your other hole.

“Breaths, deep breaths,” San soothes you when he pushes inside, and you gasp out a shuddered moan at the pressure but manage to stay relaxed; the training you’ve been doing with San and Wooyoung is paying off. Still, San takes his time, slowly thrusting in and out a few times before he adds another, his mouth plying your inner thigh with gentle attention. You whine when you feel his fingers move against your own, hips moving on pure instinct to seek out more.

It’s not long before San decides you’re ready; the plug is not quite as thick as his cock, but still you pant at how it fills you up next to the three fingers in your cunt. You moan impatiently, antsy to have those fingers replaced by something far more satisfying. San chuckles fondly at your eagerness, his slick hand affectionately patting your ass as he stands up to his full height. Your breath hitches how his imposing frame towers over you, his hand squeezing at his crotch. Even through San’s rigid jeans, the outline of his hard cock is obscenely obvious.

“Slowly, take it off slowly,” Wooyoung groans hoarsely. “Let me get a good shot of that, fuck.”

Despite the strain he must feel, San gives Wooyoung and the camera a cocky grin, never one to pass up on an opportunity to put on a little performance.

He undoes the top button of his jeans, then tugs down the zipper one-handedly, simultaneously sliding his lubed hand up over his chest. The lube leaves a glistening trail right between the swell of San’s tits, all the way up to his neck where his fingers rest on his throat, thumb hooked underneath his chin. With heavy-lidded eyes, he tilts his head back just slightly, swollen lips parted.

Like that, San tugs his underwear and jeans down enough for his cock to spring free and slap wetly against his stomach, an angry flush at the leaking tip. Satisfaction flashes in his eyes when you let out a hungry moan, while Wooyoung bites down a heated swear.

Now that Wooyoung has the footage he wants, San unceremoniously shucks his clothing off the rest of the way. Despite knowing what will come next, your breath still catches when San clambers onto the bed, his heat bearing down on you as he crouches over your wired body.

You scramble back with him to lay fully on the bed, your movements made clumsy by urgency. It doesn’t help how San is already onto you, mouthing at your neck, grabbing at your plush thighs as his cock presses against your stomach. He groans unabashedly against your throat, nipping at the delicate skin.

Sparks surge through your veins as his cock slides through your slicked folds, and you can’t fucking wait to have him inside you, feeling oddly full and empty all at once with just the plug and no fingers, no cock, no nothing in your aching cunt. An injustice, as far as you are concerned.

Thankfully, Wooyoung agrees.

“Go on,” he presses, fighting to keep his hands steady. “You can’t wait right? Can’t wait to finally sink your cock inside that wet, willing heat. Always takes you so well, doesn’t she? Clamping around your thick cock like she never wants to be empty ever again.”

You whimper, arching up into San as Wooyoung rattles on — and San is as obliging as he has been all night, grunting tightly as he parts your lower lips and buries himself with one smooth thrust, pelvis meeting pelvis as he bottoms out with a loud grunt.

“Fuck, fuck, San—” you pant, scrambling to grab onto him. There is no pain, but still an overwhelming pressure of fullness that pushes out all else from your mind, nothing but a glowing thread of pleasure that coils tightly and stretches taut all at once.

Wooyoung gnaws at his lip. “That’s it. Slow,” he demands again, now filming one-handed while he reaches down to leisurely palm at his own hardening cock. “Fuck her slow, like you mean it.”

“I always mean it,” San growls against your neck, his hips jerking roughly forward. But he regains himself, easing into a heady rhythm that has your toes curling into the sheets as you move to meet him. His lips brush against yours, not truly a kiss, only a simple intermingling of breath as he gasps and moans with every sensual roll of his hips. Strong muscles ripple underneath your hands; as much with exertion as with restraint, his nails digging into your waist as he forcibly holds himself back from using his full, immense strength to pound you into the mattress.

Wooyoung’s breath picks up as he watches and slowly jerks himself off, matching pace. “Kiss him,” he moans. “Doing so well for us, don’t you think, baby? Fuck, won’t you kiss him for me, please.”

Eager to show yourself just as obedient as San, you dig your fingers into his hair and pull him in, slotting his mouth over yours proper. San whines as your tongue delves past his lips, flicking against the roof of his mouth before tangling with his, a wet messy glide as saliva builds up and a thin trail spills past your lips, down your chin. Wooyoung captures the sight on camera with a groan, his hand moving quicker.

“Fuck, g-go,” he says, his voice pitchy with need, “f-faster now. Wanna see you cum, both of you, wanna see…” Wooyoung trails off pitifully, hiccuping a small moan as the camera shakes in his hand.

San does not need to be told twice.

You cry out as he pistons into you aggressively, the kiss breaking when teeth nearly collide. Every ruthless slam of his hips reminds your body it’s stuffed from two ends, never completely empty with the plug still snugly fitted in your ass. San drives into you over and over again and the thread of pleasure pulls ever tauter, knots tightening, pressure mounting.

Your head spins from San’s single-minded chase for your mutual breaking point; but you have just enough presence of mind to purposefully turn your face towards the camera, giving Wooyoung perfect view of the tears gathering on your lashes, face contorted with blissful distress. He hisses a sharp breath, dick twitches against his palm.

San takes advantage to bury his face into the exposed crook of your neck where he harshly sucks into the skin, teeth catching with every thrust. Neither of you can last for long; you are too worked up from San prepping and eating you out, San is too worked up from obediently waiting all this time. The bed jostles underneath you as he bucks into your stretched cunt, throbbing walls parting pliantly for him.

It’s San who cums first, moans rising in pitch as his hips stutter — but he gives himself no time to breathe, reaching into thumb at your clit to mercilessly take you with him, and he whimpers loudly when you clamp around him. Your jaw falls slack, the thread unravelling faster than you can grasp, and you fall apart with San still fucking into you, your convulsing body wrenching every last drop of cum from him, draining him empty.

San winds down to a sluggish rut, and your cunt tiredly flutters around the lazy drag of his cock, only slowly letting you come down from your high. You moan weakly, using the last of your strength to move with San, to make sure he comes down slowly right along with you. Hot breaths falls against your neck, his mouth lingering on your skin with tender almost-kisses.

Wooyoung cusses under his breath, and you watch through watery eyes how he angles the camcorder back on himself. He shakily films the slide of his own hand as he cums on his stomach with a throttled moan, almost spilling onto the lens. Wooyoung takes a long moment to catch his breath and let the view linger, then turns the camera off with a tired, satisfied nod.

By now you have fully landed back down on the ground, your body slumping into the bed when San pulls out. Translucent streaks of cum leak out, down your ass and onto the sheets. You’re only vaguely aware of San massaging your thighs, warning you that he’s taking the plug out. You nod numbly, incapable of doing much more right now, and a quiet whine escapes your lips when San eases the toy from your body. The emptiness is almost more uncomfortable than the initial stretch; but it passes quickly, especially when San rubs soothing fingers around the sensitive rim.

Wooyoung puts the camera away and as soon as it’s safely on the nightstand, San pulls at his arm to yank him into a big cuddle pile, wanting the closeness to last for just a moment longer.

The bedroom goes quiet in the exchange of soft touches and murmured praise, limbs so deeply entangled that you’re not sure you can ever extract yourself from their hold. You burrow a little closer into San’s pillowy chest, hug Wooyoung as he clings onto you with an iron grip, and stay in their arms for as long as they’ll let you.

622 notes · View notes

hwaslvtt · 1 year ago

Text

save a horse, ride your best friend — song mingi

in which your best friend can’t believe you’ve never ridden a dick before, so he takes it upon himself to teach you.

best friend!song mingi x fem!reader. requested by anon. genre. slight fluff. smut. best friends to friends with benefits. warnings. explicit sexual content mdni, inexperienced!reader, thigh riding, fingering, use of a dildo, big dick!mingi, multiple orgasms, unprotected, creampie, swearing, nicknames (baby, angel, pretty). wc. 4k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. this was requested a while ago but i’ve been putting it off because… i’ve never written anything about toys being used so uh, i was worried about the pacing and stuff. i wasn’t sure if you meant for them to be in an established relationship, so i went for the fwb route. IMPORTANT!!!! i lost access to my google account bc of a stupid mistake, if you sent in a request through my google form and would still like me to see it, please send it as an ask <33 i remember a few of them, but do send yours in just in case!!

listening to. need to know, doja cat // if u think i’m pretty, artemas // moonlight, kali uchis

masterlist.

it was a regular saturday evening. you were on a video call with your best friend, mingi, talking about anything that came to mind as you each ate a bowl of ramen as if you were really in the same room. he really only lived a couple buildings away, a two minute walk at most, but actually joining you in your apartment didn’t cross his mind until something interesting was brought up.

you weren’t sure what led to the conversation, but somehow it steered into the direction of something less innocent as you found yourself talking about an embarrassing date you’d gone on a while ago. recounting the story, laughing together, soon turned into a conversation about what each of you like in bed.

“oh, it’s just amazing,” mingi laughed as he gulped down a mouthful of water, momentarily pausing his rambling about how much he loves it when someone rides his dick. he ran a his hand through his short, washed-out pink hair, “honestly, my favourite thing ever since it probably feels just as good for whoever is, y’know, riding.”

based on everything he’s said so far, you came to the conclusion that he was more into giving than receiving, that he got off on seeing all the pleasure he can give his partner. so, it made sense he’d choose to mention the fact that riding him would feel good. not that you would know.

“can i admit something?”

he looked up from his bowl, sharp eyes looking almost hopeful as he nodded.

you looked around your kitchen jokingly, pretending to make sure no one sense was listened as you leaned closer a whispered, your hand cupping the side of your mouth.

“i’ve never done that before.”

his jaw dropped at that, letting out a small laugh. “you’re kidding.”

“no, really,” you insisted, going back to eating casually as if you were having the most normal conversation in the world with your best friend, “i really haven’t done… much, so i can’t confirm or deny your theory.”

“huh.” he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he thought for a moment. his head tilted and it was then that you felt how warm your cheeks felt, how your thighs were pressed together under the counter. of course, he was well aware of the fact that you had much less experience than him, only knowing about two people you had slept with. but damn. he clicked his tongue and shook his head ever so slightly. “that won’t do.”

furrowing your eyebrows, you opened your mouth to ask him what he had meant by that. he beat you to it before you could get a word out.

“i can… teach you, if you want?”

you blinked at your screen, resting your wrist on your countertop and gripping your chopsticks a little too hard. a silence followed his offer, though it wasn’t awkward. in fact, he could see you genuinely considering it as you thought it over. eventually, you gave him a tiny nod.

“i mean,” you shrugged, shifting your eyes away shyly, “sure, i guess. why not?”

he grinned, trying to hide it as he shoved a mouthful of noodles into his mouth and shoved his bowl aside. he chewed, swallowed then got up and made sure to bring his phone with him. you recognised his hallways then bedroom as he walked through his apartment. “i’ll be there in like 15, i need to buy something on the way. just wait there, and where something comfortable and… um, accessible.”

you nodded, despite your confusion, and he hung up. accessible? you looked down at your clothing—or rather, lack thereof. since you were home and not expecting anyone, you’d settled on wearing just a shirt you stole from mingi that was too large for him and much larger for you, and panties. you lifted the hem of the worn shirt, assessing how much of your dignity you’d lose if he saw your pink hello kitty undergarments that you only wore if you were doing laundry.

you could already hear him giggling at the sight.

groaning and cursing under your breath, you dropped the shirt and sped to your bedroom to dig through your closet in hopes of finding something a little more appealing. after making a mess of one of your closet’s drawers, you finally pulled out a pair of less offensive panties. they were made of soft cotton; a muted light blue with thin white lace trim, the cut shaped more like a bikini than what you call your grandma underwear.

deciding they were flattering enough, you slipped off your hello kitty pair—ignoring the embarrassing amount of wetness creating a wet patch right where it was pressed against your core—and replaced it with the new pair. as you untwisted the waistband and adjusted it to fit properly, your doorbell rang and you froze on the spot before pulling yourself together and heading to open the door.

the walk to the door felt abnormally long as you stumbled over on wobbly knees. admittedly, you were a little nervous. sure, there have been times where you wanted to do some more than friendly activities with mingi, but you never actually thought it was happen. yet here you were, opening the door for him so he could come in and show you what being a cowgirl feels like.

“hey,” he greeted you softly, stepping into your home and closing the door behind him. you noticed a small plastic bag in his hand, eying it curiously as you watched him kick off his shoes and hang up his coat. once that was of the way, he took one of your hands in your free one and pulled you to where he knew your bedroom was.

once there, he set the bag down on your bedside table and dragged you to stand between his knees as he took a seat on the edge of your bed. he looked you over, lingering on the familiar t-shirt.

“so you’re the one that took this shirt, huh?” he quirked an eyebrow, glancing up at you as he released your hand and brought both of his to your hips. his thumbs caressed the curve of your waist over the shirt. “it was my favourite.”

you laughed softly, “clearly you didn’t care enough if i was able to keep it for three years without you noticing.”

“you little thief.” his nose scrunched as he glared at you jokingly, giving you a gentle squeeze.

“if you really want it back, you can always take it.”

“nah, it’s fine, keep it. it looks cuter on you anyway.” he took a breath and gave you another once over, humming appreciatively when he moved his hands up higher, dragging the shirt with it until he caught a glimpse of your panties. you tensed, caught off guard by how close he felt. “i need you to relax a little, how about i help you loosen up, yeah?”

you nodded, averting your gaze but returning it to him when you felt him pull you onto his lap. he slotted one of his legs between yours, easing you down to straddle his thigh. his hands ran up and down your sides and few times before resting on your bare thighs, your breath stuttered and he held back a smile.

“are you still okay with this?” he asked quietly, absentmindedly playing with the hem of his your shirt. “if i do anything that makes you uncomfortable, just tell me and i’ll stop immediately and we can just watch a movie or something, okay?” when you only nodded, he continued, “i need you to say it, please.”

“i’m okay with this,” you muttered in return, resting you hands on his biceps, “and i’ll let you know if i need you to stop.”

“good, now…” without waiting any longer, he leaned forward to attach his lips to your neck, his hands slowly beginning to rock you back and forth on his lap.

you sucked in a sharp breath and clung into his arms a little tighter, your stomach fluttering at the feeling of your clothed cunt on his firm thigh, your panties dragging against your clit with ease thanks to how wet you already were. he lifted you slightly as he pulled you towards him, pushing you down as he pushed, the varying pressure making your lips part in a soft whimper. he nearly groaned at the sound, moving his lips right below your ear.

“you know,” he rasped between the licks and kisses, “i can’t deny that i’ve wanted to fuck you for a long, long time now.”

“r-really?”

mingi chuckled as he pulled back to look at your face, half surprised and half needy. he noticed that if he relaxed his hands, you’d continue grinding against his thigh.

“yeah, really. i mean, look at you,” he glanced down, one of his hands lifting the hem of your shirt to watch you ride his thigh slowly, a dark wet patch forming right where your leaking pussy sat. he bit his lip, “you look so perfect… and i bet you’d feel perfect, too.”

you nearly whined at that, fucking yourself on his thigh just a little faster as he sucked a dark mark right above your collarbone before returning to mutter dirty words into your ear.

“i know practically everything about you and your cute little body, you know. better than anyone else,” one of his hands inched it’s way up your thighs, brushing against the edge of your panties, “i’ll make you feel so good, angel, i promise.”

“mingi?” you whimpered, prompting him to lean back a little to look at you with a curious tilt of his head and a raised brow. “if you don’t shut up and kiss me right now, i might lose my mind so… please.”

his beautifully plump lips stretched into a smile as he wasted no time in practically pouncing forward and smashing his lips against yours. it started a little slow as you got acquainted with each other, despite the fact you could feel a nearing orgasm as a knot in your stomach drew tighter with each roll of your hips, but soon the kiss turned hungry.

he groaned into your mouth as you let his tongue explore, making you let out a quiet moan. mingi knew he wouldn’t be able to kiss anyone ever again. you, his best friend of all people, had the most inviting lips he’s ever felt. so inviting, so perfect and so soft. he thought everything about was soft. his hand slipped just under the edge of your panties as his other one made your grinds slow down.

you didn’t mind the slow pace, knowing just a few more rocks of your hips would have you tipping over the edge. but he evidently had other plans as he finally made your hips still completely. you pulled away from his lips with a pout. if you were trying to make him feel bad, it backfired terribly.

all he could think of as he looks at your swollen, red, wet, pouty lips is how much prettier they’d look wrapped around his cock. but he could save that for another time.

“there’s no need to rush, baby,” he chuckled, wiping some saliva away from your bottom lip.

eventually, when he was sure you had calmed down enough, he lifted you off his lap a little and turned to lay you down on your back, pressed against the comfortable mattress as he kneeled on the edge. he gripped your knees and bent them, pushing them closer to your chest with his eyes zeroed in on where your slick was leaking through your panties.

with one hand keeping your knees together and elevated, he ran his other over the fabric, pressing down on where he knew your clot would be and elicit a sweet little moan as you squirmed beneath him. he thought you were so cute like this, you looked so flustered as he gave you nothing but featherlight touches where you needed him most. for now.

“don’t get all shy on me now,” he cooed as he glanced up and noticed you covering your face with your hands, “let me see you, pretty.”

he didn’t continue his touches until you finally removed your hands, giving him a nice view of your abused lips and round eyes, pupils blown wide with lust in a way that had something stirring in his abdomen. and his pants.

he let down your knees for a moment so both of his hands could slip under the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. he actually moaned when he saw the strings of arousal clutching onto the fabric as he dragged it away, snapping when he got too far.

“you’re so pretty, baby,” he murmured, watching your entrance squeeze around nothing, making more slick drip out.

after tossing it aside, he wasted no time in getting your knees back to the previous position and running his fingers through your folds.

“oh, fuck,” he groaned, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as you let out a moan when he tapped against your clit, “you’re soaked.”

he glanced up at you, wanting to see your face as he slowly pushed in too fingers and catching a glimpse of your hard nipples poking through your shirt. your face contorted for s fraction of s second before relaxing, your head tipping back against the mattress as you let out a whine.

he choked back a moan at the tight walls around his middle and ring fingers, the fingers of his other hand digging into your thighs. “sh-shit… you’re so tight. i’m gonna have to stretch you out first, okay?”

you nodded mindlessly, too distracted by his fingers prodding at your sweet spot to care about any words he may have said. but you furrowed your eyebrows and lifted your head when you felt both his hands leave you, finding him reaching for the bag. your curiosity outweighed your disappointment as he pulled something out.

it was a dildo. about as thick and long as the biggest person you had before, and made of what looked to be transparent silicon. your insides tightened at the sight, somehow the thought of him seemingly buying this just for you turning you on even more.

he returned to kneeling at the edge of your bed, leaning down to loop his arm around your waist and lift you up to place a pillow under your hips before letting lay back down.

“couldn’t find one my size, but this should be fine,” he held the dildo and ran the tip through your pussy, collecting wetness as you shuddered, “my cock will just have to stretch you the rest of the way.”

you breath hitched at the implication of his words. so he was bigger than that? your thighs pressed together at the thought of being completely stuffed by him. he chuckled, separating your knees enough for him to have a clear view of your pussy, pulsing and dripping and begging for his attention.

he began slipping the toy into you, filling you up inch by inch and watching your needy hole stretch around it and swallow it up. the sight had him choking back a moan, biting down on his bottom lip.

the stretch had your back arching and pushing yourself against it desperately, feeling like that alone could get you to finish. it only took a few deep strokes for your pussy to get used to the size, squeezing and writhing around it until you couldn’t handle it anymore. your arousal coated it quickly and seeped out with each stroke, squelching sounds filling the room that shot straight to his dick.

when you finally came, your toes curled and your body twitched as you let out a string of and whines and moans, little curses slipping between. he watched with fascination as you came undone right beneath him, not wanting to wait any longer to be inside you. he shoved the toy deep inside you, leaving it there as he leaned back for a moment to discard his clothes, slipping his hoodie and sweatpants off.

when you were brought back to your senses, you found yourself on his lap again, straddling his hips this time as he sat with his back against your headboard. you felt his erectile straining against his boxers and pressing against your core. you couldn’t help but rock your hips against his slowly.

“do you ever ride your pillow?” he asked suddenly, voice dropped what felt like two octaves lower than his regular tone. your eyes widened at the question but you nodded. he nodded too, his hands finding your ass and helping you grind against his clothes length. “this is a lot like that, except you have something in you… and it’s more of an up and down movement… and i’m obviously not a pillow… still, there’s really no right way to do it, just go slow and you’ll figure out what works and what doesn’t. plus, i’m here to guide you.”

he gave your ass a squeeze as if to punctuate his sentence, massaging the soft flesh in his palms. when you felt ready, you dropped your hands from his shoulders to his boxers, palming his length a few times before hooking your fingers into the fabric and dragging it down until his cock sprung out.

he definitely wasn’t lying when he said it would stretch you more than the already-big dildo. he was definitely a lot bigger than anyone else you’ve been with, well over average. you nearly dropped at the sight, wrapping your hand around him and jerking him off, eyes fixated on the angry red tip leaking precum as you passed your thumb over it.

the muscles of his abs rippled and squeezed as your worked your hands on his cock, his head thrown back against the headboard and letting out stuttering moans. all the sounds he made encourage you to sit up on your knees, guiding him through your folds and whimpering as you finally sank down on him carefully.

the two of you moaned at the same time, him at how well you squeezed around him and you at how well he stretched you. you stopped when you reached just halfway, unsure whether or not you’d be able to fit more. his hips jerked slightly as his hands squeezed your hips.

“come on, baby,” he moaned softly, looking up at you with encouraging eyes, “just a little more… we can make it fit, right? just breathe.”

you nodded and as you took a deep breath, he used his hold on your to sink you further down until he finally bottomed out. he cursed silently, the back of his head finding the headboard again as you whined and dropped yours onto his shoulder.

you felt his tip pushing against your cervix, the new feeling making a lump form in your throat as you blinked back tears. this time it took a while to get used to the stretch before you tried grinding back and forth. it was slow, almost painfully so. he was amazed that despite stretching you with two different things, you were still so unbelievably tight, hugging him in a death grip as your raised your hips an inch before dropping down again.

your soft noises were muffled by his shoulder as your hands rested on his biceps, panting and squeezing gently as every inch of him dragged against the sensitive spongy patch in your walls every time you grinded on him. soon enough you were able to lift yourself to his tip and drop all the way down, your wetness letting him slip in and out with ease.

still, you kept the pace torturously slow, savouring each bounce and grind. his hands had left your hips at some point, exploring your body under your shirt, massaging your breasts and tweaking your nipples. he lifted the fabric but kept it on your as he watched your tits bounce temptingly, your puffy pink nipples making his mouth water as he pushed himself forward to take one into his mouth.

your hips stuttered as he sucked and nibbled at your nipples, throwing your head back and arching into his touch as your grinds grew sloppy. he felt your decreasing pace, using the hand that wasn’t teasing your other breast to guide your hips once more. he angled you slightly differently in a way that made your clit press against his pelvis each time he bottomed out, the speed of your grinds picking up quickly as his hips bucked up to meet yours.

his lips detached from your bruised breasts with a popping sound as he leaned up to capture your lips in his once again. it wasn’t much of a kiss, more teeth and tongue and moans and groans than anything else as you swallowed each other’s sounds.

you finished first, pushing yourself down hard and stilling, filling yourself with his throbbing cock and pressing your clit against him. he held you tightly, burying his face in your neck to suck at all the spot he knew would get your to writhe. many tickling fights contributed to his knowledge on all your sensitive spots.

your body twitched as you returned to bouncing on his length, your juices looking at his base. the overstimulation burned a little, making your thighs and knees quiver, but you were determined to get him to finish too. and by the looks of it, it shouldn’t take much longer.

“shit, baby,” he said, halfway between a whimper and a moan, fingertips digging into your hips as he threw his head back in bliss, “‘m so close— fuck, you feel s-so good.”

his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, bottom lip caught between his teeth. his cheeks and the tip of his ears flushed a deep red, his plush lips a few shades darker and coated in your mixed saliva from your kisses. as you adjusted the angle of your hips, something in him snapped, grabbing your hips tighter and taking over. he took over your movements, thrusting his hips up desperately as you fell forward onto his chest with the sudden change in intensity. his tip pushed itself against your g-spot continually, another knot tightening in your stomach.

the wet sounds of your cunt and your skin slapping against his egged him on until finally he felt like he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“baby, p-please— fuck— please, can i cum i-inside you?” he begged through a groan, “i— please, angel, i-i can’t wait any longer.”

you nodded against his chest with a whine, you were on the pill anyway. not a second later, he released into you, filling you up with stuttering hips. he pulled you down, flush against him and keeping you there as he emptied himself with softly muttered curses, his head dropping to press open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder.

it felt new to you, the warmth making you squirm until you came again without warning. it was much weaker this time but still enough to make you shake in his arms, panting softly after letting out a strangled moan against his skin.

after a few long moments of trying to recover from the shared orgasm, he lifted his head, one of his hands cupping your chin to tilt your head to look at him.

“so,” he started, lips stretched into a smile, “how’d that feel?”

“fucking amazing.” you rolled your eyes at how smug he looked after your confession, not protesting as he leaned forward to kiss you.

this one was much softer than the previous kisses you shared, much more tender. it was a lot shorter too, he pulled away first to rest his forehead against yours.

“yeah?” he whispered, kissing the corner of your lips, “just wait until i hit it from the back.”

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf

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hwaslvtt · 1 year ago

Text

to taint your soul — choi san

in which apparently even the daughter of an exorcist is not safe from the corruption of an incubus.

incubus!choi san x exorcist’s daughter!fem!reader. genre. smut, angst, southern gothic vibes. warnings. barely any plot, religious themes, religious guilt, swearing, explicit sexual content mdni, corruption, loss of virginity, masturbation (f.), referenced dacryphilia, fingering, referenced oral (f.), manhandling?, multiple orgasms, rough and gentle, big dick!san, creampie, marking, nicknames (angel, pretty girl, sweet girl, sweetheart). wc. 7.3k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. i should do more mythological characters!ateez cuz i enjoyed writing this and the lamb and the wolf. the demonology book/text here is partially from The Encylopedia of Demons and Demonology by Rosemary Ellen Guiley, but i made up some parts for the sake of the story. THIS FIC DOES NOT REPRESENT ANY OF MY OPINIONS AND I DO NOT INTEND TO OFFEND ANYONE.

listening to. burning desire, lana del rey // gibson girl, ethel cain // lilies, ethel cain & mercy necromancy // ptolemaea, ethel cain // heaven, taemin //

masterlist.

you were cursed from the moment you were born.

the idea of being cursed or haunted by anything isn’t one you think about often, considering yourself protected by your father’s profession. at least one dusty bible on every bookshelf in the colonial monstrosity that is your home and crucifixes hung all around, it seems to be common sense that an exorcist’s home would be the safest place to hide from the dark.

unaware of it all, you used to let yourself be tucked into your lace-trimmed bedsheets as he pulled you to sleep with stories. tales of fallen angels and possessed souls became the lullabies of your childhood. admittedly, you were quite terrified of it all, but as you grew older and wiser, you realised there was no way they could get to you. but really, it was wishful thinking.

you weren’t aware of who your father used to be, nor were you aware of the debt he owed to a particular demon.

the dreams started the night after your twentieth birthday, vivid and unsettling. a man haunted them, equally as terrifying as he was handsome. tall and clad in dark silks, his whispered words and hungry eyes intrigued you. his touch, though a figment of your imagination, sent shivers down your spine, foreign yet infinitely alluring. you’d wake up with a jolt, panting, flushed cheeks and tingling skin as the dream stuck to you like cobwebs. your father passed the repeated dreams off as nightmares and you failed to notice the flash of fear cross his features.

one night, however, you were changing in your room. dimly illuminated by multiple candles you set around since you didn’t like how bright the large chandelier was, you held a dress in each of your hands, standing in front of the mirror as you held the clothing to your body in an attempt to figure out what to wear. you didn’t notice at first, but a figure lurked in the shadows of the bedroom. you didn’t notice the shift in the atmosphere or the flicker of the candles.

but soon, a soft sigh sounded through the room, so soft it could’ve been mistake for a whistling breeze outside your window. goosebumps prickled at your skin as you tensed, refusing to move at the oddly human sound. staring at yourself in the mirror intently, you caught a glimpse of a familiar face in the reflection of your mirror. your breath hitched as you fixed your eyes on him, afraid that if you blinked, he’d disappear.

you watched him. watched him take slow steps towards you as he smirked at the sight of your wide, fearful yet infinitely pure and innocent eyes. you convinced yourself you were hallucinating, the disturbingly realistic sounds of his footsteps as much of a figment of imagination as his being. but as he stood right behind you, a coldness swept over your skin and you flinched as his breath fanned against your bare shoulder. whipping around in surprise, you yelped softly at the sensation. but he was gone, and you were alone. breath erratic and eyes stinging, you scrambled to move a wooden cross stand from the top of your dresser to your bedside table.

after that you grew paranoid, always looking over your shoulder, sleeping with at least two safe and reliable candles lit. each time you walked through the hallways of your own home, you kept your gaze fixed on the ground, refusing to look at the portraits lining the dark walls as you thought they were watching you. the tiniest of sounds made you flinch and break a sweat, squeezing your eyes shut and muttering prayers, only to find out the sound came from either of your parents.

the constant state of fear and anxiety left you tired, deciding if your father wasn’t going to do anything about it, you would. on quiet feet, you crept through the halls at noon (you were too scared to go to that room at night), a rosary wrapped around your hand with a dainty little cross hanging from your clenched palm.

you father really was a well-known exorcist, often to go on trips within and beyond the country to treat what doctors couldn’t; demonic possessions. as a symbol of his successes and a means to prevent others from coming in contact with whatever a demon may have attached itself to, he brought home trophies and locked them in a little storage room in the basement. of course, he took many precautions—crucifixes all over the inside and outside, sprinkles of holy water here and there, he’d have your local priest come over and bless the area himself. despite all this, you never once stepped in, partially because your father advised you not to, mostly because you were completely and utterly terrified.

as you descended the creaking wooden stairs, a chill ran through you, the hairs at your nape standing in alert. maybe you were scaring yourself more than the room scared you. the dust tickled your nostrils, making you force down a sneeze as you cleared your throat. the wooden floorboards extended into a narrow hallway, lined by cobblestone walls. you rarely came down, in fact, you couldn’t remember the last time you were there, the surroundings seeming so foreign. there were only two doors, one leading to a storage closet and the other to a slightly scarier storage closet.

you stared up at the ominous door, standing tall and intimidating, a golden cross embossed right in the centra, doorknob dark and rusted. with shaky hands, you fished a copper from the hidden pocket of your plaid gown. it half-hearted a few sloppy attempts until you got the key in, squeezing your eyes shut as you force yourself to finally turn it.

another chill ran through your body as you push the door open weakly, cracking an eye open to look inside. had you come at night, you wouldn’t have been able to see anything, the only source of light being an elongated shirt window lining the top of the right wall, an inch below the ceiling. three shelves. one on the right, one of the left, and one down the middle of the room. the middle and left one were lined with various objects. you walked between them, looking but not daring to touch. the objects were quite diverse, you realised. dolls, clocks, little statues.

you took your time to get to the shelf you needed. along with these objects, you father also locked away any books he had that were related to demons in any way. most of them were confiscated from cults, some of their were from his personal collection. he claimed they were to protect you, and you didn’t completely disbelieve him. taking a deep breath before letting it out in a sigh, looking at all the titles. your fingertips ran over their leather bound spines, feeling the wrinkles and grooves. you knew there would be a lot, but as you looked upon the entire shelf, you estimated a good hundred-fifty books.

he organised them by categories. summoning, excommunication, identifying. identifying. that’s what you needed. you took a closer look at the section, nervousness fading briefly to be replaced by a faint taste of hope.

the encyclopaedia of demons and demonology.

deciding there had to be something in there, you pulled it out. the book itself was simple, bound in black leather. the cover was nothing special, just the title and author. by the looks of it, you’d be here for a while, seemingly at least three hundred pages long. you looked around the dark room, a small wooden desk was tucked into the corner though not a chair in sight. with a soft sigh, you walked over on weak knees, apprehensive about what you’d find in the book.

despite your father’s profession and all the bedtime stories, you never came in contact with demons or the spirit world. setting the book on the desk, you opened it to the index, having to squint to make out the text. but the next time you lifted your eyes off the page, a brass candle holder was tucked into the corner of the table.

you blinked. there was no way that was there before, but maybe you had just missed it. the pale yellow candle stood half melted, the hardened wax forming veins that ran down the sides and pooled in the brass bowl.

you held your breath momentarily before beginning to read through the a to z list of demons and other dark entities and their descriptions. you only skimmed, lingering on any that mentioned appearing in nightmares only to dismiss them when the rest of their descriptions didn’t match with your experience. surprised by just how much there was to read, you felt just a little curious, occasionally stopping to read extracts that had piqued your interest. it wasn’t until you got all the way to section i where something actually seemed to be helpful.

‘incubus—a lewd male demon who pursues women for sex. the incubus and his female counterpart, the succubus, visit women and men in their sleep, lie and press heavily upon them, and seduce them.’

you nearly missed it, continuing your skimming until the description registered, scrambling to turn back the page and reread it.

“oh.” you breathed at the realisation. that seemed to be the most accurate thus far, your finger tracing over the name as you furrowed your eyebrows and continued reading. the next paragraphs detailed how they’re conjured and where the name came from. you read some more.

‘incubi are especially attracted to women with beautiful hair, young virgins, chaste widows, and all “devout” females. nuns are among the most vulnerable and could be molested in the confessional as well as in bed. while the majority of women are forced into sex by the incubi, some of them submit willingly and even enjoy the act. it once was a common belief that women were more likely than men to be the sexual victims of demons, because women were inferior to men and less able to resist temptation.

incubi have enormous phalluses that—’

slamming the book shut, your eyes widened and a deep blush settled over your features, just staring at the cover for a moment as you collected yourself from the sudden vulgarity of the writing. after a moment, you cleared your throat and reopened the page, strategically skipping over the next paragraphs that detailed accounts of intercourse with such a demon.

‘an incubus may form attachments to those whose minds are occupied with dark and inherently sexual desires, those that are impure. one also can be summoned for coital gratifications, or a deal in which one’s first born is ommonly offered to repay their sevices (see: dealing with the demons, page 218).’

but that couldn’t be right. you always made sure to be a good girl, always helped at home. you volunteered to read to children at a local orphanage, always helped with charities and donations, always assisted people where you knew you could, stayed soft spoken and always began your requests with please and ended them with thank you. you kept to yourself most of the time, would never dare to raise your voice at anyone, never had any romantic interest, let alone sexual ones.

admittedly, the dreams involving the man— the demon had you waking up with an uncomfortable stickiness between your thighs. but before that, you never indulged. after that, you never indulged either, instead jumping from your bed and taking an ice could bath to calm yourself from the strange feeling. the temptations were always there and were always strong, but your want to be immaculate was stronger. to be free of sin.

a deal in which one’s first born is offered.

it seemed impossible, almost. you knew your father was a righteous man and your mother a pure woman. but where your mother happily shared stories of her childhood as heart-warming anecdotes, your father only dropped tidbits of his memories despite considering you two to be extremely close. you always chalked it up to him being a little boring or generally not very open. but maybe there was more to it…

“there you go, sweetheart.”

you nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of his voice, pushing the book away from you as you turned around a little too quickly, your knee knocking against the edge of the table.

there he stood, barely illuminated by the singular window as he took slow steps towards you much like the other day.

“so, you’ve finally figured it out, huh?”

each time he took a step, his muscles visible through the loose black silk, you inched away until the top of your thigh hit the wooden table, your hands bracing themselves on it to keep you from collapsing in fear. the closer he got, the more you realised just how attractive he was. broad-shouldered and radiating confidence, his feline eyes roamed over your figure. depite wearing a white gown that reached all the way down to your ankles, you felt so exposed.

tongue swiping along his bottom lip, drawing your attention to the action. he towered over you, making you feel weak and small as he trapped you against the table. your heart pounded against your ribcage and you feared it would break free and fall into his hands, unsure if the warmth on your cheeks and ump in your throat came from how utterly petrified you were or the way his breath fanned over your face like a whisper.

“your dearest father isn’t who he says he is,” he pouted mockingly, coming to a stop inches in front of you, letting his gaze settle on your quivering lips for a moment, “and me? well, you know what i am. and you also know we can have lots of fun if you allow it.”

your lips parted to speak but no words came out, instead opting to press them into a thin line and squeezing your eyes shut as you shook your head. you weren’t completely sure why you wer shaking your head, but if it would stop the incubus from tainting you, it was worth a try.

“don’t kid yourself, princess. i can smell how wet you are.” as if to emphasise his point, he inhaled deeply, leaning forward to ghost his nose over the slope of your neck without touching you.

it wasn’t until he said it that you notice you had been squeezing your thighs together, feeling warm all over and you stomach twisted in knots at the sound of his deep voice. something ached in your lower regions, but you tried your hardest to resist the thoughts.

but a little voice in the back of your head urged you to tilt your head back, to give him permission, to let his hands explore your untouched body. maybe just this once you could allow yourself to give in, to let your knees go weak and worry about begging for forgiveness later.

“all you have to do is drop the rosary.”

you gripped it tighter at the reminder of the protective object tangled between your fingers, fighting to keep your sanity intact. your breath hitched as you felt one of his fingers run along the beads, not daring to come close to the little silver cross or your skin.

“c’mon, pretty girl. drop it,” you heard the smirk in his voice, “let it go and i’ll take good care of you, i can make you feel things you’ve never thought of… i can make you feel alive, wouldn’t you love that? don’t you want to feel the desire? taste the lust?”

“n-no,” you gasped finally, finding your words, “it’s not right.“

he laughed, a low rumble from his chest, “i promise you’ll love being ruined by me,” he said, withdrawing his hand from yours, “i swear to all your precious little holy symbols, i know i can get you to want me.”

he moved closer and for a maddening moment you thought he was going to kiss you. faintly, you wanted him to. to feel the push of his lips against yours, to let his hands snake around your waist or grip your hips to pull you closer. there’s a ring on his index finger, you noticed, silvery and sharp, a symbol you didn’t recognise yet imagine him pressing it against your throat, branding your neck anew until it’s red and faithful. and maybe you crave for him to undo all the things in you that are holy.

“just drop it, pretty,” his breath teased your lips and you almost leaned forward in curiosity, wanting to see how just one kiss would feel, “i know you’re a good girl.”

those words. they’re almost enough for you to give in. how did he know those would strike a nerve, hit you where he knew it would work? not only did all your efforts ultimately lead to the same goal—purity, goodness—but you couldn’t deny the satisfaction you felt from reassurance. if you were an animal, you’d strive to be the priest’s favourite sacrificial lamb. to hold so very still and to bleed so prettily when the knife final comes down, to be reborn and be chosen all over again.

“don’t you get it?” he whispered, “i live inside you the same way you’re bound to live inside me. we’re a moebius strip, a never ending cycle of a snake eating it’s own tail. maybe it will end in destruction, but that’s your dear father’s doing. mutually assured destruction, maybe; you say yes, i’ll ruin you for everyone else, blacken the wool of your fur coat. you say no to me, i will suffer the consequences of not fulfilling a deal. you wouldn’t want someone to suffer because of you, hm?”

your grip on the rosary loosened and let your eyes finally flutter open. from this proximity, you could see every detail of his face and the image seared into your mind.

something in his eyes darkened as his lips curled, a playful smile, a predatory grin. the way he looked at you made you want to combust into flames, to fall to your knees, you skin rubbed raw on the ground as you beg him to make you feel.

“you don’t look so innocent anymore, you know? you’re docile and sweet, yes, but you’re not as pure as you think you are, there’s a little dirt in your pristine heart, a little lustful stain you can’t erase.”

“y-you’re wrong!” you protested, trying to convince yourself he was lying, “i’m good and i’ve always been good and i always will be good and i will not for the devil’s influence.”

“oh, but i’m not,” he pouted mockingly, moving his head back just an inch, looking down at you, “you’re practically shaking, so close to giving in… you’re the most pious girl here, yet you’re so close to sin, so close to me.”

you opened your mouth to continue your protests but flinched as you heard familiar heavy footsteps, looking up at the little window to see the familiar boots of your father about to enter the house after a long day of work. he was out, casting out malicious spirits and demons, and here you were, about to let one deflower you. the realisation seemingly made you come back to your senses, clenching the roary in your hand once more and looking for a way past him.

but… what would you even do afterwards? confront your father, the town’s devout exorcist, for making deals with the incubus in front of you? would he call you crazy, deny everything and treat you like just another one of his clients?

the footsteps were now above you, you could faintly hear him saying something to your mother though you couldn’t quite make out what it was. you’d never been as afraid of anything as you were of your own father, standing right above you, acting like he hadn’t damned you from the day you were conceived.

as if he could read your thoughts, could sense your panic that was completely unrelated to him, the incubus stepped back. his face was unreadable as his glazed over eyes fixated on you.

“don’t worry, sweet girl, i can wait. the longer you resist, the better it’ll feel when you finally surrender,” he gave you a small smile, different from the previous grins and smirks, as he nodded towards the window, “go.”

you could’ve run away the moment he stepped back, yet you didn’t move until he gave you the permission. you didn’t dwell on that fact as you slipped past him and reached up, shaky hands undoing the latch and opening outwards. you attempted to climb up, your arms burning as you tried lifting yourself, only to give up, panting softly from the effort.

“let me help you.” his voice offered, prompting you to look back at him. the seductive glint in his eyes was no longer there, taking a small step forward. “just… put it down, i promise i’ll help you and leave.”

you stared at him for a long moment. there was something so different in the way he looked at you now, suddenly soft and with good intentions. the voice of your father calling your name snapped you out of your stupor, nodding hurridely as you placed the rosary on the grass outside carefully before turning to look at him.

he gestured for you to turn away, your hands finding your hips as you did. the contact made you breath hitched, despite your layers of clothing between your curves and his hands, your stomach tickled with swarming butterflies as he lifted you up. the heat of his body behind yours distracted you for a moment, taken aback at how real he felt, how human he felt, even as he lifted you with ease.

you braced your forearms on the ground, pulling yourself up the rest of the way as he spoke.

“whisper my name three times, and i’ll be summoned wherever you are, ready to fulfill your needs.”

you stayed quiet for a moment, just sitting on the ground as you looked down at him, now able to see his full face clearning from his proximity to the window. “what’s your name?”

“san,” he smiled, “choi san.”

you loked away, up at your house as your father’s concerned voice called out your name again. “i should get going, but–,” you looked down to thank him, only to find an empty room and a sealed window. your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, voiced trailing off, “thank you…”

the first time you touched yourself, it was san you were thinking about.

late at night, your parents fast asleep, a storm ragin outside, but all you could do was think about him. you tried, you really did. you tried to go back in the house and pretend everything was fine, that you had just been on a walk and your flushed face was from the excercise. secretely, all you could think about was him. how you wanted him to show up again—wanted him to make your breath hitch and your heart jump. wanted him to soothe whatever it was that ached inside you; the burn in the pit of your stomach, the spot where your waist met your hips, but most of all between your legs, were it had never ached like this before.

you excused yourself from dinner earlier, went to bed, and tried so desperately to fall asleep. whether it was to forget about it all, or to meet him in your dreams again, you couldn’t tell. you really tried, but haunting thoughts of how his hands held onto you rolled into your mind with images of all the things he could do to you. the raspy lilt of his voice, sometimes soft, sometimes commanding in a way that made your limbs feel like jello at the mere thought of it. his sharp eyes and sharp jaw and such tempting lips. he could have a kind face if he wanted to, yet his toned body, visible and obvious despite trying to hide behind his clothing, screamed sex appeal.

flashes from your previous dreams raced through your mind too. fragments of images where you could feel his hands all over you, his dark hair sticking to his sweat forehead, eyes rolled back from the pleasure he gave himself while you were forced to watch. you never quite gave in in the dreams either.

you tossed and turned in your bed, thighs pressed together so tight you worried you’d have long bruises down your inner thighs the next morning. the new feeling felt much too large for your fragile mind, overwhelming you, making your loose clothes feel suffocating. it wouldn’t leave you alone, wouldn’t let you sleep. mostly because you didn’t want to give the feeling a name, you refused to speak its name, even in your mind, even if it could identify this feeling.

pent-up and strained, coiled into yourself in a foetal position, you could only roll onto your back and let your hand trail down your body, hiking up the long skirt of your nightgown before letting your fingers dip between your thighs, spread at the knees. you let out a shaky gasp as you felt the wetness pooled beneath your undergarments, clamping your other hand over your lips. after feeling around experimentally, your fingers found a quick pace, rubbing over your clit, more desperate than they had ever been. your hand muffled your gasped out moans and whimpers, tears pricking at your eyes—partly from the guilt, mostly from the pleasure. you felt your heart beat all over your body, most of all right below your moistened fingertips.

shaky breaths and muffled needy cries were covered by both your hand and the storm outside your window. if hurts a little, your clit swelling as more and more slick coats it and the knot in your stomach grows tighter and tighter. but you don’t mind the pain, you think you deserve it, because after all, it’s forbidden and it’s not supposed to feel good. san is not supposed to make you feel so good. a demon was the one thing that wasn’t supposed to be on your mind, especially not in this way.

the thought of him made your hand move faster and suddenly your breath was stuttering and your core pulse as you finish quickly, biting down on your lip, hard enough to cut through the skin, to muffle your cries. when you came down from your high, you lay there for a few moments longer, heart racing as you glance at the door to make sure it was still closed. and when you realised what you had just done, shame clouded your lungs as you slipped your fingers out of your panties and raised them to your face.

your hands came away sticky. transparents webs of your pleasure linking your index and middle fingers together as you stared in horror before finally collecting yourself and jumping from your bed to scrub the sin from your hands in your bathroom.

you scrubbed until your fingers turned red and your palms raw, losing sensation from the ice cold water, the guilt sinking deeper and deeper the longer you took to cleanse your body. you hadn’t noticed the tears running down your cheeks until you stared at yourself in the mirror, sniffling and glossy-eyed. your body might be clean, but were you? if you wanted to be immaculate, how could you let yourself do such a thing?

it was his fault, really. him and his midnight eyes and electric touches and words that would drive you to madness, damnation.

you changed your panties and nightgown, burying them in your laundry basket as if you were burying the evidence of a crime. once done, you wanted nothing more than to sink into your bed and fall asleep. but as you stared at what you once thought was comforting, you could only think about your soft whimpers and shaking thighs. so you stripped your bed naked to decorate it anew with clean sheets and blankets and pillows, shoving the previous ones under your bed before finally falling into a deep sleep.

shame followed you like a pest for the next days, unable to properly smile because all you could think about was what you had done. and what you wanted to do. a heavy melancholy washed over you in these days, confining yourself to your room when ou didn’t have to come down for meals. if your parents picked up on it, they didn’t say anything. maybe they knew. what if they know?

maybe they didn’t say anything because they knew about san. perhaps they thought it was fate, that you would give in sooner or later. despite cracking a bit, you stood by your conviction that you wouldn’t, no matter what, summon him.

but… was he really so bad? had you not seen a moment of softness when he helped you? demons were, after all, fallen angels. could it really be so impossible he still had a sprinkle of previous angeilc qualities? silently, you were thankful he hadn’t showed up on his own again. if he did, you were afraid you’d throw away all sense of faith and throw yourself into his arms, let him kiss you and lick you and suck you and bite you and everything in between.

despite all this, despite not wanting to summon him, you couldn’t deny the unsettling feeling weighing you down with each step. it had been there before—before whatever happened in the basement—dragging your seemingly heavy limbs through vacant hallways. but when he touched you, when his fingertips brushed against yours as he touched the shiny black beads of your rosary even though he didn’t mean to, when his hands lifted you into the air and helped you escape, the way he talked to you, his words and tone, that unsettling feeling had been lifted off your shoulders.

you noticed, for a brief moment, when you spent that short amount of time with him, you had no desire to think of god or rules or expectations. even if it was for a split second, it happened, and perhaps that what terrified you the most. just wanted to be, something you hadn’t been allowed for so long.

so when your parents said they’d be out late for some dinner you had no interest in attending, you paced around your room, deep in thought as your typical long nightgown tickled your ankles. millions of thoughts raced through your kind but, at the core, they were all the same. san, san, san. you felt like he had attached himself to your very soul, and you’re not quite sure how it happened.

without thinking, you stopped your pacing, glancing at the crucifix on your bedside table, a reminder. you couldn’t take it anymore, reaching out to take the wooden symbol and hide it in your closet. was it really wrong if it was still there, only trapped behind the wooden double doors, nestled between your skirts and shirts and gowns and gowns? out of sight, you felt less bad about what you were going to do.

your eyes squeezed shut and you did as he told you to, lips parting to whisper his name thrice. almost instantly, a gust of wind blew through your room and you knew there was someone else there with you. your eyes remained shut until you heard footsteps stalking towards you, his familiar voice filling the eerie silence of the room.

“hello, angel,” he grinned, borderline menacing, as he backed you up against your dresser. much like before, you were trapped, the back of your thighs pressed against the wood. only this time, you weren’t afraid, “i knew you’d give in sooner rather than later.”

you didn’t reply, didn’t know how to reply, only breathing shallowly, fingers curling into the edge of your dresser as you glanced from his eyes to his lips repeatedly.

“you need to give me permission, you know,” he chuckled, tilting his head to the side, “there are rules for deals such as these.”

“please.” you breathed, somewhere between a whisper and a needy whine as your round eyes looked up at him so desperately.

as soon as the word left you, his lips were on yours. hungry, devouring you, sucking on your bottom lip like it’s a candy as you can’t help but melt and whimper against him. his hand found your cheek, the touch surprisingly soft compared to the madness of his kisses. your heart rattled against your ribcage like a bird wanting to escape its confines. his saccharine saliva seeped into your mouth as his tongue broke past your lips, running over your teeth and the roof of your mouth as you let him do whatever he wanted.

his hands are all over you and yours are all over him, grabbing at each other because there was no way to get any closer like this. your thoughts, unlike before, are completely quiet, head empty and drunk on the sloppy kisses, mouthfuls of teeth clashing against each other. he was supposed to be gentle, he wanted to be gentle, yet now you’re pressed against the dresser and he’s kissing you hard.

it was wrong, but it felt too good. that was clear from the moment your kisses turn open-mouthed, lips clinging and tongues dancing. you shivered as both his hands held you by your hips once more, lifting you to sit on the edge of the oak furniture, caressing your hips bones through the thin fabric of your dress.

your hands rug at his shirt lightly, a silent plea for him to remove it, wanting to see and feel every inch of his divine body. he complies, separating his lips from your to reach over his shoulder and grip the silky shirt from the back, pulling it over his head, tossing it aside. your hands explore his naked torso, fingernails scratching along his skin as he loses himself in the taste of your kisses.

his hands dragged the long skirt of your gown up your legs, fingers ghosting over the supple skin of your calves and thighs before letting the cloth bunch up at your hips, winding your legs around his waist before lifting you off the dresser. you cling to him the way the thought of him cling to you for so long before this as he carries you. he lays you down gently, your head spinning as he kneeled on the edge of your bed and leaned over you, moving his lips from yours to mouth at your neck.

his hot breaths dance along your skin, across your collarbone, neck, pressing wet kisses down to the fabric covering your chest. you gasped softly as he brushed his teeth against your skin, a reminded that he could really break you if he wanted, but the feel of his lips against the curve of your neck, testing out the waters of your shoulder, made the intimidating thought vanish.

he teases the skin just above your neckline with nibbles that have you throwing your head back with soft whimpers, only encouraging him as his left hand kept one of your legs hitched up against his hips and his right undid the ribbons at the back of your dress. the fabric loosens and slips around, one sleeve falling over your shoulder slightly as he sat you up a little and pulled the dress over your head, discarding it and leaving you in your white ruffled bra and panties.

you’re dizzy, delirious with thirst—for his touch, his kisses, for everything his sharp lips could give you, for him to relieve the ache between your legs. you shiver as you’re left bare, nipples peaking through your bra, undergarments barely hiding your most precious parts. you try covering yourself with shaking arms, despite the little fabric still be there, but his hands move them aside, pulling them to rest on his bare chest. his eyelids flutter for a moment at the contact, your hands so much colder than his.

he leans back to look at your, hand at your back winding around to massage a handful of one breast, watching your breath hitch. “such a pretty girl, and all for me.”

“san…” you whimper aimlessly, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“such an angel,” he teases again, thumb circling over your clothed nipple lightly, grinning at how helpless you looked, “supposedly protected by your father, by god, yet here you are, practically begging for a demon to fuck you.”

he presses himself closer and you can feel the thick and heavy weight of his cock smudge against your core, gasping softly as you eyes roll back, his tip prodding against the fabric covering your sensitive clit. his name falls from your lips once again, like a softly uttered prayer as you back arches. he takes the opportunity to undo the clasp of your bra, slipping the item off you before continuing to tease your perked nipples, leaning down to lick and suck at them as his hips grind against yours. you weren’t sure when he took off his pants, but you didn’t quite care, not when his impressive girth covered your core so well. sometimes the tip would dip into your entrance before leaving just as quickly, your toes curling as it stretched you and your panties.

he moans into your neck, grinding against you at just the right pace, his precum smearing all over you already-drenched panties. the feeling of his tip prodding at you clit so continuously makes you come quickly, and much harder than the other night when you touched yourself. you writhe beneath him, shaking and crying out his name as your back arches from the bed.

“hm, you’re so much prettier like this, angel, succumbing and throwing away any desire of virtue,” he mutters against your jaw, having sucked dark marks onto the skin right below it, his deep melodic voice.

angel. the way he calls you that makes you shiver. how could he do that? call you an angel while plucking out the feathers of the wings you’d once had?

when he enters you, it’s slow and deliberate, leaning down to whisper into your ear as he presses your hands into the white mattress—”heaven itself could not make you feel like this.”

“i’ve never… you know…” you had admitted shyly once you came down from the first orgasm he coaxed out of you.

he only chuckled, caressing your cheek. “i know. virgins always smell the sweetest.”

you pleaded for him to be gentle, and how could he say no when you were begging so prettily? now his length is barely halfway inside you and you’re already shaking, drenched and deprived pussy squeezing him tightly as he swallows down your broken moans, holding back him own. you feel abnormally good to him, unable to remember the last time he fucked such a perfect pussy.

as he reaches previously untouched parts of you, his tip brushes against a spongey little area that has you clenching, your breath hitching followed by a gasped moan as you come again. stars flood your vision, feeling like your body was on fire as your hands tightened under his. his tongue licks up every one of your sounds, smothering you as he pulled back a bit to press against the spot some more.

your moans soon turn into soft whines, twitching from overstimulation before he fially continues to enter you. it’s a tight fit, but he bottoms out eventually.

“fuck- you take me so well, you’re so perfect.” he groans, looking down at where he can see his tip bulging through your stomach.

you never imagined just how full you would feel, the stretch burning yet somehow still pleasurable as you squirm beneath him. he doesn’t wait, retracting and fucking into you slowly, letting you feel every curve and vein of his perfect cock.

he loses track, but he thinks he’s made you finish 4 times already. he’s not surprised, virginity leaves most people sensitive, and the fact he’s been teasing you in and out of your dreams for months likely didn’t help. san revels in it though, basks in the sounds you try to hold back so desperately. he isn’t lying when he says you’re pretty, hypnotised by your face contorted in pleasure and your body, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. they somehow still have an innocent glint in them, even as he manoeuvres you into different positions before finally easing you into your back once more.

you arousal is smeared all over yourself and him and the bedsheets. clear and sticky, glistening in the candlelight. at some point he slipped out of you to lean down and have a taste, groaning as you mewed above him. when his teeth grazed your abuser clit, you finish once again and a moment later he’s back inside you.

eventually, his hips stutter and a newfound pace takes over. “shit, angel, i’m gonna fill you up so good. would you like that?”

you can only nod frantically, brain turned to mush, jaw dropped to let out your lazy whimpers. you’ve lost track of everything but him; his touch, his voice, his influence. if you parents walked in or he disappeared, you’d only be able to lay there, completely helpless.

he never really stops, taking his time to worship your tight hole, knowing he’ll only be able to stop when he comes. though, by the looks of it, it’ll be sooner rather than later.

his groans and moans sound blissful in your ears, holding your name between his teeth with a low whimper. he spills his tick warm cum into you, the new sensation making you shake and squirm as you feel your insides being filled. another orgasm washed over you, though a little weaker, drunk on his scent and his saliva and him him him.

he kisses you, bruisingly, slipping out of yoh and letting you feel his seed seep out of your hole and run down your thighs, pussy coated in milky white. he slumps against you, detaching his lips from yours to gaze down at your barely open eyes.

it’s tiring, you can’t deny that, but it just feels so good. all your disgusting, fucked up thoughts were because of him. and now your most intimate parts will always be tainted by his hands. he calls you ‘good girl,’ yet you know you’ll never be good again.

choi san: voice like silk, touch like satin, incubus, demon. you’d think demons kill people, but your purity was his only homicide. he murdered your virginity. murderer.

but you do wish for him to kiss you again.

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet @atzhouse

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hwaslvtt · 2 years ago

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The babygirliest

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hwaslvtt · 2 years ago

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YEOSANG | Crazy Form Official MV Making Film

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hwaslvtt · 2 years ago

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Girl you post like something pretending to be human. Follow

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hwaslvtt · 2 years ago

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summary: things between you and your mom escalate and you make the impulsive decision to move in with your online friend who saves your life and shines like the brightest star... pairing: seonghwa x reader genre: angst, fluff, smut; online friends to roommates+lovers warnings: swearing, mommy issues, suicidal thoughts, insecurities, crying, pet names, eating out, blowjob, protected sex, praise kink, mommy kink, one (1) bad star wars joke, the nbhd references, subspace (kinda?), lowkey possessive hwa, one bed trope (but there is a couch, they just ignore it) author's note: this is incredibly personal and i felt so vulnerable while writing it but i better post it real quick before i chicken out 🙃 the title is inspired by the neighbourhood's daddy issues (remix) even though reader has mommy issues lol word count: 4.3k

You are cooped up in your room, physically shaking. You have no tears left to cry so you are laughing hysterically at the absurdity of it all. You were so tired of it. You love your mom, you really do. You would never do anything to harm her. But you are absolutely sick of the way she was treating you. Always belittling your interests, not letting you go out past a certain hour even though you were old enough to do so, yelling at you for the smallest mistakes, suffocating you with her unrealistic expectations, saying you were stupid and would never amount to anything if it hadn't been for her strict parenting style, even though you had practically sacrificed your mental health and social life to get high grades. And whenever you brought up all the ways in which she'd hurt you, she would try to gaslight you and pull shit like: "I never said that." "You're being overdramatic." "You're so ungrateful." All your friends said you deserved better. They tried their best to support you emotionally. But words could only do so much. You need out. If you stayed another moment in this toxic environment, you felt like you would do something terrible to yourself. Something there was no coming back from.

The only person you feel like talking to right now was your online friend Seonghwa. You'd met him on a Star Wars forum eight months ago and you'd been talking to each other pretty much every free minute. He was your light in the darkness and brought you so much happiness you couldn't remember what your life before him had been like. He always knew just what to say and comforted you like nobody else could. And when you didn't feel like talking, he distracted you successfully by organizing streaming sessions for the two of you. He is, for lack of a better word, perfect. There is only one downside. He lives thousands of kilometres away from you.

You: Talk to me. About anything. Please? Starshine98: What happened??? You: I don't wanna talk about it. I don't even wanna think about it. Starshine98: Got it. Your mom, right? You: Is my tragic existence so transparent? Starshine98: Whatever she said, you know it's not your fault. You: I know. But Hwa…it hurts so much I feel like dying. I can't do this anymore. Starshine98: Don't say that. You are so important to me. And to your friends. And to your mom, as well, even if she has a messed up way of showing it. You: Still….I need to get out of here as soon as possible but I can't do that without getting a stable job first. And it's so hard to find one. Starshine98: What if you came to live with me? My apartment has enough space for two… You: You live across the world? I can't even afford a plane ticket. Starshine98: Don't worry about money, I'll send you an E-ticket. You: I can't ask you to do that… Starshine98: You're not asking, I'm offering. You're going through something traumatic and you obviously need a change of scenery. I'm not asking you to stay with me forever, just for as long as you need to take care of your mental health. Just say the word and I'll buy the ticket. You: This is far too generous of you. Starshine98: I'm not as selfless as you think. I'm so worried about your well-being that keeping an eye on you myself would help me sleep better at night. You: Sweet. Starshine98: So? What do you say? You: Fuck it. Let's do this.

A couple of minutes later you receive a digital plane ticket from Seonghwa. The feeling of staring at it is so surreal you feel like you might pass out. You quickly pack only the bare essentials into a bag and scribble a letter to your parents. You know your mom will be furious and your dad will be worried sick but still, you want to leave the apartment while she's still asleep to avoid the confrontation. This is the best decision you could have possibly made in this situation. And for the first time in forever, you are finally doing something impulsive, something crazy without asking for permission. And damn, does it make you feel alive.

As you get off the plane, your eyes scan the airport for Seonghwa. You debate turning on your phone but then you would be faced with missed calls from your parents and right now, you are not ready to face the reality of what you've done. Luckily enough, you quickly spot a large sign with your name on it. It's him! You rush through the crowd and directly into his arms. He drops the sign in disbelief and gives you the tightest hug possible. This is insane. You can't believe you're actually here.

"Hi, sweet girl," Seonghwa says and his voice sound even lovelier than during the video chats you've had with him.

"Hi, starshine," you chuckle nervously.

"How was your flight?" he asks.

"Couldn't wait for it to be over," you admit.

"Yeah? You wanted to see me that bad?" Hwa teases you.

"More like couldn't wait to visit Seoul," you joke. "Go sightseeing."

"Sorry to disappoint but I'm taking you home first."

Home. You liked the sound of that.

"This is my room, this is the living room, this is the kitchen and this is the bathroom. Any questions?" Seonghwa inquires after he's done showing you around his apartment.

"Um, not to sound ungrateful but…where will I…you know, sleep?" you ask.

"My room, obviously. I'll take the couch in the living room," Hwa shrugs.

"What? No, Hwa, I can't…this is your apartment. I would feel so guilty I wouldn't fall asleep at all."

"Do you have another suggestion?"

"Duh! I will sleep on the couch!"

Seonghwa shakes his head, visibly distressed by the idea.

"It's pretty cold in the living room. You'll be more comfortable in my room."

"Well…we could share the bed, then? You do have a king size. If…that's okay with you."

"Are you sure?" Hwa wants to know.

You nod without thinking too much into it.

"You're my best friend and I just moved across the world. Sharing a bed with you does not worry me."

"Alright. Let me know if you need anything, I'll try to get it for you."

"Right now I just need a hug."

Seonghwa abides by your wishes and soon enough, the two of you find yourselves cuddling under the warm blanket. Minutes later you are crying and spilling the beans about your latest fight with your mom. When you tell him the whole story, he feels like throwing up.

"H-how could she say that to her own d-daughter?" Hwa stammers in disbelief.

You notice tears falling down his beautiful cheeks and trace a finger against his skin.

"Honestly? I'm kinda used to it. But it was so bad I couldn't take it anymore."

"You're not supposed to. You're a literal angel, I don't understand her behaviour at all."

You give him a sad smile.

"I'm not a saint, either. I mean, I've kept secrets from her and stuff. I just wish things could get resolved by communicating but she always refuses to hear my side of the story."

"The only reason why you've kept secrets was to protect your sanity. She's being unreasonable for not letting you follow your passions. What kind of a parent would say such harmful things?"

"Right?" you laugh bitterly. "You get me like no one else."

Seonghwa strokes your hair lovingly and kisses your forehead.

"My darling girl. You deserve so much better."

"Sometimes I wish you were my mom," in a moment of intense vulnerability, you murmur without thinking but the words are already out of your mouth and it's too late to take them back.

"W-what?" Hwa appears taken aback.

"S-sorry, I don't know what's gotten into me," you cover your face with your hands.

"Say it again. Please."

You take a peek nervously. His reaction is not one of disgust as you feared but rather…curiosity?

"I wish you were my mom," you repeat, your cheeks flushed with color.

"Do you know what I'd do if I were your mom?" Seonghwa asks.

You shake your head, desperately needing to hear what he's thinking.

"If you were my little girl, I'd do whatever I could do to keep you safe and protect you, make sure no one could hurt you, least of all me. I'd let you follow your passions. If you went out at night, I'd be worried sick, of course, but I'd be happy you're having fun with your friends. I'd tell you I'm proud of you no matter what grades you got. If you kept secrets from me, I wouldn't yell at you, but I'd ask myself what I did wrong. You know why? Because I trust you. And I care about you so deeply that I'd like to win your trust, too."

Your vision is blurry with tears. You feel like Hwa just fixed something he didn't break. Whatever he has to offer, you want all of it.

"I'd like that very much."

"You'd let me take care of you? Call you mine?" Seonghwa needs to know.

"Yes, please."

"My precious girl," he purrs in your ear.

"Hwa…just to be clear, what does that make us?" you ask, confused about the line between friendship and…whatever this is.

"What do you want us to be? Girlfriend and boyfriend? Daughter and…mom? Friends with benefits?"

You chuckle at the variety of labels he suggests.

"I think I'd like to be your girlfriend. If you'll have me," you blink, suddenly feeling insecure. You don't have much to offer. But whatever little you have, you're willing to give to him.

"I will. And I'd be honoured to be your boyfriend."

You bury your head into his chest, overwhelmed with positive feelings and excitement for the future that awaits the two of you.

"Let me take you out on a date tomorrow. But first, you need sleep."

"Okay, mom," you laugh wholeheartedly. "Will you sing me a lullaby?"

"Anything for my best girl," Seonghwa promises.

The following day he takes you to a really lovely date at a local restaurant and treats you so well, like no one else before in your life. You feel so blessed and lucky to have met him that there are not enough words to describe how grateful you are to him. Not just for letting you move in with him without expecting anything in return (though that was an immensely generous gesture on his side). The reason you are grateful the most is that he accepts you with all your flaws and scarred past, he shows you such understanding and care you have only dreamed about. He is truly your shining star guiding your path through the dark and into the light.

In the evening, you finally muster up the courage to turn on your phone. You call your dad and with tears in your eyes, explain the circumstances around your latest fight with your mom and why you decided to move in with Seonghwa. Your dad is worried, of course, but he says he gets why you did it, as he has witnessed some encounters when your mom has said hurtful things to you. Though he has not explicitly stood up for you, in your private conversations, he has shown you support and eagerly awaited the day you were independent from her. He tells you your mom was furious at first but now she is just…sad. You promise you will talk to her when you feel ready but for the time being, you need some space. Your dad respects your decision and you hang up.

"You did well," Seonghwa praises you, enveloping you in a warm hug.

"Thanks," you whisper sadly.

"Shall we go to bed?" he asks.

"Aw, man, I was in such a hurry to pack that I forgot my favourite frog plushie!" you exclaim in annoyance. "I can't sleep without it."

"Last night you had no trouble falling asleep, though?" Seonghwa gently reminds you.

"You're right!" you cry out in amazement.

"I'll get you a million plushies tomorrow but for now you'll have to settle for me."

"You know what? You're more than enough. You're my favourite plushie from now on!" you smile, wrapping your arms around his waist.

You've had the happiest week of your life. Seonghwa shows you around the city, taking you to adorable cafés, sightseeing and eating ramen by the Han river. The two of you take tons of pictures together and spend a lot of quality time. He even introduces you to his friend San and convinces him to let you work at his bookshop, which is honestly a dream job.

One morning, you wake up feeling uncharacteristically hot. Something hard is pressed against your ass. Could that be…You freeze at the realization. You wonder whether to rush out of bed. But then you risk Seonghwa waking up and you don't want him feeling embarrassed over something completely natural. You could pretend you're still asleep? But your breathing is too irregular and your skin is practically on fire. What should you do? Before you can make up your mind, you feel Seonghwa shifting behind you and the space has never felt emptier.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles sleepily.

"What are you sorry for?" you ask even though the answer is quite apparent.

"For…you know, getting hard."

"It's fine, it's a normal human reaction."

"I don't want you to feel uncomfortable or objectified. I mean…you are hot and I've obviously thought about you before in impure ways but…I like you so much I don't want you to feel pressured or anything. You're incredibly special to me, baby."

You finally turn around to face him.

"You are the most precious person in my life, Seonghwa," you whisper. "And like, if you want me, I'm all yours. No pressure."

"But…wouldn't you want to wait longer?" he asks cautiously.

"Whenever you want, my star," you smile eagerly, hoping he takes the bait.

"Fuck it," Hwa mutters under his breath and crashes his lips into yours.

You kiss him back impatiently and bury your fingers into his soft hair. He pulls you closer to him by the waist, digging his fingers into your lower back.

"If you want to stop at any moment, just let me know, okay?" Seonghwa breaks the kiss to reassure you.

You are so touched by his words that tears are already welled up in your eyes.

"Okay. Same goes for you."

"Trust me, darling, I wouldn't want to stop," Hwa promises and buries his head into your neck, inhaling the scent of you.

He spends a long time pressing kisses everywhere he could think of: your neck, your cheeks, your hair, your nose, your collarbones, your tummy, your ears, your thighs until finally, he reaches your pussy. Guiding your legs apart with a gentle but firm hand, you are afraid of melting right there. He eats you out hungrily, his ridiculously long tongue doing wonders to your senses. Needing something to hold on to, you tug on his hair, hopeful that you are not hurting him. He starts making circular motions, increasing the pleasure. It does not take you long to finish, completely falling apart.

"I think I just died a little," you admit, laughing.

"Well, the French did call it la petite mort," Seonghwa shrugs.

"Ah, yes. The little death," you smile, fondly recalling your French classes. "I wouldn't be a good guest if I didn't return the favour, no?"

You wrap your lips around the head of his cock, looking up at him to see if you're doing a good job.

"You're not a guest. I want you to feel at home," Seonghwa says and you try to take him deeper into your mouth. "You don't have to- Oh!"

You smirk as you swirl your tongue against his cock, doing your best to bring him closer to the edge.

"Such a good girl. My girl, yes?" he murmurs.

You can't verbablly respond so you nod your head frantically. Your hand is wrapped around the part of him you can't physically fit in and you blink the tears away, attempting to focus on breathing through your nose. You move your head and up down, desperately staring into his eyes to make sure he's enjoying every second of it. Soon enough, he reaches his high, sending ropes of cum down your throat. You try to swallow, not waste any drop of it.

Seonghwa strokes your cheek with his hand.

"You did so great for me," he praises you and you feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"T-thank you," you stutter nervously.

"You don't have to thank me," Seonghwa chuckles in confusion and flips you around so that you are lying on your back. He leans down and kisses you again even more sensually than before but with as much tenderness. "You wanna stop?"

"No, please, don't stop," you are not too proud for begging.

"M'kay, lemme just grab protection real quick and I'll be back," he grins.

"Oh, I feel quite protected with you by my side, but I get what you mean," you tease him, excited to take the next step in your relationship.

True to his promise, Hwa returns moments later, flexing a condom in his hand.

"Protection," he repeats in a cute voice, while he puts it on.

"And here I thought you were gonna show me your lightsaber," you joke.

Seonghwa dramatically places a hand on his heart, feigning offense.

"I already did," he plays along and you can't stop yourself from bursting into laughter.

God, he really is the best guy in the universe. Your thoughts are further confirmed when he slowly teases your entrance with just the tip, making sure you are okay.

"You good? Should I go deeper?"

"Hwa, my angel, you can do anything to me and chances are I'd like it," you reassure him confidently.

"Careful what you wish for," Seonghwa smirks and slides in, making you feel so full and complete.

"Ngh," your sweet little cries are enough to give him the needed push to not hold himself back any longer. He fucks into you with so much vigour and passion you are on the verge of disintegrating.

"My gorgeous girl. You like that?"

"Yes, mommy," the words slip out of your mouth before you could think twice about it. His movements come to a sudden halt, causing you to realize what you've just said. Out loud. Ugh, you feel equally mortified and turned on.

"Mommy, huh?" he chuckles lightly.

"S-sorry," you hide your face behind your palms.

"It's okay, I can be your mommy," Seonghwa grabs your wrists and pushes your hands above your head. "I'll take good care of you, yeah? Wish you could see yourself, my most precious girl."

"Hwa, please, I mean…mommy, need you so badly," you stumble through your words weakly.

"I'm right here, my sweet baby, I'll give you what you need," he plays along. "Does mommy's cock feel good inside you?"

"S-so g-good, mommy, thank you, thank you so much," it hasn't even been that long and you already feel fucked out, utterly and irreversibly at his mercy.

"Don't thank me, dearest, I'm just treating you the way you deserve," Seonghwa vows and before you know it, you are clenching around his cock, while he is spilling inside the condom.

You can't think, can't speak, can't do anything. Nothing exists in your mind anymore. Just him. The universe is completely blank save for that one shining star. You fail to register him leaving the room to dispose of the plastic and don't notice when he returns.

"Honey?" he says softly but his voice feels so distant. Kilometres away. You can't bring yourself to form a verbal response. "Are you okay?"

Seonghwa places gentle kisses on your cheeks in an attempt to bring you back to reality.

"Come back to me, darling, please, talk to me, I'm scared," he mumbles in between kisses.

"Hwa?" are your first words. Like a newborn baby looking for the comfort that only a true mother figure could provide.

"You're safe with me," Seonghwa tells you. "No one can hurt you here."

"I don't deserve you," you are suddenly crying, overwhelmed by how cared for and loved he's making you feel.

"Don't say that ever again, you hear me?" he speaks firmly but kindly, nonetheless. "You deserve to be happy. Am I making you happy?"

"So happy, you have no idea how much," you try your best to convince him for your sincerity.

"That's all I need to know," he nods. "Let me draw a bath for you and-"

You summon all the strength you have left and grip his hand as tightly as you physically can't.

"Don't leave me."

"I'm not leaving you," Seonghwa picks you up with ease and carries you all the way to the bathroom.

Once inside the warm bath, you are more capable to form full sentences and communicate what just happened with a clearer head.

"I'm sorry for springing up the whole mommy thing without discussing it in advance," you tell him.

"I don't mind, honestly. In fact, I think I'm perfect for the role."

You smile fondly and nudge his shoulder.

"Still. From now on, I'll try my best to talk about introducing anything new beforehand. It's only fair."

"Whatever makes you feel comfortable," he kisses your forehead as he rubs shampoo into your scalp. "But just so you know, I could never be mad at you."

"What if I want you to get mad every once in a while? You know…spank me for being a bad girl?" you suggest teasingly.

"Then, I'd be happy to oblige," Seonghwa replies enthusiastically and starts tickling you in a playful manner.

It is true that time heals all wounds and distance makes the heart grow fonder. A while later, you feel ready to talk to your mom again (somewhat influenced by your dad's pleading and Seonghwa's reassurance).

"Hi, mom," you greet her calmly over the phone.

"Hi, sweetie. I've missed you," she admits.

"Me too," and it's true. Even though she hurt you, you still love her.

"Have you been eating well?"

"Yeah, don't worry about that."

"Listen…I'm sorry for saying hurtful things and being so hard on you. I only do that because I think you're so smart and have the potential to do great things."

"Well you have a funny way of showing it," you chuckle dryly.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…you never praise me for anything. I spent so many years trying to get your approval that I didn't stop for a second to think whether I was doing what I truly loved."

"I understand," your mom says. "I know it might be too late but I'll try to do better. If you'll let me."

"It's not too late. But I'm not coming back to live with you. I've got a boyfriend and a job here. And I'm…actually happy."

"I'm glad to hear that, sweetheart. You will visit eventually, right?"

"I will in the summer. I want us to work on our relationship," you explain patiently.

"Until then…we can Skype or something?" your mom suggests.

"Yeah, mom, we can do that," you laugh. "If you figure how to turn the computer on!"

"Hey!" your mom argues but her tone is amused "I'm not that old!"

"I know, I know," you keep laughing.

"I love you," she says seriously. And this time, you are willing to believe her.

"Love you too, mom," you answer truthfully and hang up the phone.

You look at Seonghwa who was quietly cutting vegetables. His mere presence in the room was giving you strength and moral support.

"I did it," you announce the obvious. "I talked to my mom."

"You did so well. I'm really proud of you, angel," he wraps you into the world's most comforting hug.

"Things won't get magically fixed but…it's a start."

"You did the right thing."

"I couldn't have done it without you, Hwa," you admit truthfully. "You light up my whole dark existence, my precious star."

"Oh, baby," Seonghwa holds your hands. "Stars can't shine without darkness."

Bonus:

You are so happy to have cooked spaghetti carbonara for your boyfriend, your darling, your starshine, your marvellous Hwa. You really hope he likes it because you've worked so hard on it and it's his birthday so you wanted to do something special for him. He has given you so much care and affection so this is the least you could do to express how grateful you are.

"Happy birthday, my love," you kiss him gently, presenting the meal in front of him. "I have other gifts, as well, but food first before it gets cold!"

"Aw, baby, you didn't have to do all that," Seonghwa smiles, touched by your efforts.

"Come on, try it!" you are practically bouncing with excitement to see his reaction.

"It's really delicious, my angel! You did a wonderful job!" he praises you, sincerity clear in his voice.

You can't take it and you burst into tears.

"Why are you crying? Did I say something wrong?" Seonghwa puts the fork down, immediately worried about your well-being.

"No, it's just…the first time anyone's praised my cooking. It feels incredibly special coming from you, considering you are so brilliant in the kitchen."

"The kitchen is not the only place where I'm incredible," he winks, looking at the bedroom.

"Eat, eat! We'll unwrap the gifts later in that other place," you wipe your tears and encourage him to enjoy his meal.

"Oh, sunshine, you are the only gift I could ask for," Seonghwa promises and goes back to the carbonara. And perhaps, this is what having a home feels like.

The End

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hwaslvtt · 2 years ago

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Ateez reaction: Domesticity

Hongjoong

Hongjoong is like dyeing your hair together. He's vibrant colors, and deep belly laughs. The chemicals are making your noses hurt, but you try to keep the air flowing, the windows are open and a cool summer breeze blows into the small apartment. Hongjoongs phone is open on the counter playing some rock song he likes while you film him. He's trying to get all the spots on the back of his head and while you could help, watching him struggle is amusing.

Seonghwa

Seonghwa is like grocery shopping Sunday mornings. He's cooing at the babies in their strollers as they pass and buying more junk food than fruits and veggies. Hwa insists on grabbing stuff off the higher shelves even though he isn't that much taller than you. He likes when he can stand behind you while pushing the cart. Holding you close and smiling at the older couples, making sure to whisper in your ear that he hopes you can grow old together.

Yunho

Yunho is like playing games in the dark after the power goes out. He's lighting cinnamon candles and moving all the blankets into the living room to make a fort. Yunho insists on playing hide and seek in the dark, because "I haven't played it since I was little, it'll be fun!" You're holding your breath when you hear the bedroom door open, hoping he won't seek you out before the lights flicker back on and give your hiding spot away.

Yeosang

Yeosang is like furniture shopping for your new apartment. He insists on trying every couch to make sure it feels right. He likes to play house like when you were children, pretending to play the role of dad in the kitchen displays. He's checking every small detail like light bulbs and how softly the drawers close because he knows the loud noises bother you. He can't help but become giddy seeing you stand in the bedroom displays wondering what it'll feel like when you finally move in together.

San

San is like making ramen late at night. You're sitting on the counter while he places himself between your legs. He likes to play with your fingers, getting distracted in all of you before realizing the broth was about to boil over. You like to wrap your legs around his waist and bring him close while placing tender sleepy kisses on his jaw and forehead.

Mingi

Mingi is like going to the convenience store at 2 am, it's eating ice cream on the curb during the cool summer nights. You guys probably look crazy in your matching pj's but you never cared. You're sharing both a bag of chips and headphones. Mingi likes to rest his head on your shoulder. He dedicated this playlist to you, a compilation of songs that remind him of the feelings you give him.

Wooyoung

Wooyoung is like baking cookies on a warm spring afternoon. You guys had elected to watch his younger brother for the weekend. You're helping Kyungmin use the dinosaur shaped cutters in the sugar dough, though you encourage him to eat the scraps behind Woo's back. All of your guys' shirts are covered in flour by the time they go into the oven, and Kyungmin conveniently had time to fall asleep when it came time to clean up. Though Wooyoung appreciates the quiet moment with you. Happy to play parents for the weekend.

Jongho

Jongho is like taking baths together after a long day. He likes to set up lots of candles and soft music. Even though he doesn't intend to make it intimate, Jognho's unintentionally romantic. He likes to hold you close and massage your shoulders after a long day at work. You guys will sit there until the water gets cold and the skin on your fingers shrivel. When you get out he'll wrap you in a towel and hold you close making sure to keep you warm.

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hwaslvtt · 2 years ago

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realistic sex with seonghwa

seonghwa x f!reader fluff | smut | mdni a/n: welcome to this series. where i'll try to imagine how each member would actually fuck, as ✨realistically✨ as possible. u voted for our shinestar to be the first one but tell me in the comments/asks who u want to see next. enjoy ♡ disclaimer: i say realistic but lets be honest this is pure delulu behaviour and total fiction. everything is solely based on the vibes the boys give off.

in the relationship he's very loving and attentive. seonghwa is a romantic at heart. he loves big gestures. like expensive gifts and fancy dinner dates. he's a passionate man

(an aries ♈)

although he's not into pda (doesn't dread it as much as hongjoong though who he utterly despise it). he likes to hold you and kiss you but he would rather do it privately

but oh boy when he gets you alone. you will drown in the love. you will suffer the wrath of his aggressive hugs and kisses

he will literally kiss your cheeks so hard that it will scrunch up your face or hold you so thigh that you can't breathe. for him there's no other way of showing his love for him. it's ardent and burning.

(did I say an aries?)

talking of getting you alone *wink wonk*

a ✨neat boi✨

he will always prepare a towel to you clean up before you even truly starts

I feel like you guys are kissing and things get a little heated he would straight up ask if you tryna fuck

slkslskdlsdkdk

as soon as you say yes he hops off the bed/couch and goes to get the kit™ which includes towels, lube and toys

he might be prepared to clean up afterwards but thats only because he fully intends on getting n-a-s-t-y with you. before he cleans this man is going to make a mess

seonghwa is freaky (member of freak line with woo mingi and joong even if I think he's the less freaky out of the four). he plays coy but i feel like the demon takes possession of him when he’s on stage or in bed.

he lives for the applause that's why he gives me the vibe of a service top. he usually doms but he will occasionally sub if his partner is into it.

if he subs that would mean he truly trusts his partner and he's ready to give up control. which I feel is something that is difficult for him to do

he will like to be on the bottom and seeing you ride him.

he's more into praises than degradation but I feel like he would enjoy a healthy blend of both

"my good fuck toy", "you're being so good to me", "what a good little slut"

nothing too mean. he will surely enjoy being bossed around. (cfr that fancall where he literally folds because op tells him not to make her wait). he will enjoy when you give directions. command him to get in his knees for you, or tell him to open his mouth

but wether he subs or doms he will always enjoy some biting. he loves loves loves when you're close to him and you sink your teeth in the crook of his slender neck. he enjoys the slight pain

but most of the times he will top/dom. that's his comfort zone and it shows.

like I said earlier that man lives for your approval and your recognition so he will do anything to satisfy you.

and he will take 👏 his 👏 sweet 👏 time.

quickies aren't for him. he's a perfectionist. when he does something he does it 100%. he gives his all or he doesn't see the point in even starting… he'd rather wait until you have more time.

seonghwa loves and I means loves to give oral. he's oral giver line with mingi.

he's ready to spend hours on knees head buried in your pussy ignoring his sore jaw and painfully hard cock just to make sure that when he stops your legs and trembling and you've soaked the bed all the way to the matress.

and the worst (best) part is that he's far from done

it's only the beginning of the fun

there's no point in changing the rhythm so once again when he finally slides into you he takes his time. he will coat himself with your juices grazing his tip along your folds and extra sensitive clit before pushing it in very slowly.

all the while being very quiet. barely exhaling a small sigh of pleasure because one big thing about hwa… he loves sounds. he has a huge auralism kink. so he will stay quiet just to get even hornier on the way you sound.

he wants to heart it all in great detail. (the perfectionism kicks in once more)

he wants to hear your pussy gushing out more nectar for him as he slowly fills you up

he wants to hear how you hold your breath while he gives that first slow stroke that you've been begging him for what feels like hours.

then sighs in pleasure as he reaches the bottom of you.

there he will bend down to kiss you.

sloppy kisses. very sloppy. with lots of tongue. he wants to share your taste (and realust of his hard work) with you

that's why I think hwa's favourite position is missionary. he can hear better and he can kiss you while fucks you.

he loves to make you moan into his mouth. he wants to swallow your every sound of pleasure he wants it all.

and he won't be satisfied until he makes you cum at least twice (and i insist thats the bare minimum). because hwa is an over achiever and also a good guy and as goes the famous saying: nice guys finish last.

it's only when you're satisfied (read: exhausted and worn out to the bone) that he will finaly cum too.

he doesn't have favourite spot he likes to cum anywhere on or in you. well at least that's what he says because I feel like he loves to finish inside or all over your pussy.

he loves to see how good he ruined you and messy your cute little cunt got for him. pulsing, weeping, creaming. all swollen and red.

he loves to know he's the one that made you like this.

hwa is possessive it's less on the nose then joong but still

also you remember when I said freaky?

he's def the type that goes down on you for sloppy seconds after he's finished. if he's feeling extra generous (sadistic) he will drag out yet an other final orgasm out of your exhausted little cunt. just to have the pleasure of hearing you whine louder and squirm under him. pining your thighs open while he tastes himself on your folds.

with hwa it's not over until it's over

and finally he will share the delicious blend of your burning love for one an other with you in a passionate kiss. this time around the passion is more controlled less carnal and more romantic. he wants to show you again how much he loves you and this kiss is the prefect way

right after of course he's running around the place to bring you water and clean you up

maybe even washing you up in the shower if you aren't too tired and you can still stand (9 times out of 10 you can't) if you are too tired then he'll simply let you sleep in his arms (and never in the wet spot. if only there's one. chances are he prepared well enough and there's none)

like I said a neat boi <33

who should i post next?

IF U WANNA HELP ME PLEASE REBLOG WITHOUT USING THE COMMUNITY LABELS 🖤

realistic sex with mingi, with yunho | ateez masterlist | navigation

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hwaslvtt · 2 years ago

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the way soobin probably holds back a low moan every time u sit in his lap :<

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hwaslvtt · 2 years ago

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before you post, remember S.T.O.P.!!!!

are you SEXUALIZING that old man?

does that old man TURN you ON?

POST.

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hwaslvtt · 2 years ago

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kinktober : oct 11th

simon riley x housewife kink

simons never really had anyone that was so willing to please him and serve him on their own free will, so of course it’s going to turn him on to no end.

it was the way you looked in the kitchen on a lazy sunday, his tshirt hanging off your shoulder, not aware of his hulking presence standing in the doorway watching you stir the gravy you’d made for the sunday roast you were making (which really makes him feel at home, god) he never thought about having anything this domestic, but you make that life look so good.

it was the way you can just sense when he’s had a bad day, greeting him in the living room when he drops down on the couch, huge body sprawled out, and you crawl between his legs and get to work, gagging on his thick length until the sour memory of his day is replaced by the feeling of your sweet mouth around him.

it was the way you look at him whenever he whips out cash to pay for whatever you want — those sweet adoring doe eyes. he made alot from the military, it’s true — but simon was never a big spender, and didn’t like to treat himself unless he really had to — so as you can imagine, the man let’s you go wild with his credit card. “whatever you want. s’not like i’m gonna spend it.” he gruffs, nonchalantly sliding his card into your hand when you’re rambling about an outfit you’d had your eye on.

he doesn’t want to rush into things, simons scared — and the thought of scaring you off with a proposal is constantly weighing on his mind, his true feelings towards the matter only coming out when he had you bedded, your sweet self having offered yourself to him after he’d had a long day. he’s got your legs over his strong shoulders, the base of his cock creamy from releases as you wail, his thick veiny hand pressing down on your lower stomach. this is where simon really gets vulnerable, a rare but delightful occurrence.

his vulnerability comes in filthy promises. “th’s it doll, taking me like a fuckin’ pro. could do this for the rest of my life. you want that, yeah? want me to stick a big shiny rock on that pretty little finger? make you my little wife? what would people think hm? sweet little thing like you lugging round a big old man like me. gonna know my pretty wife gets f’king destroyed every night. you want that don’t you, pet?” you can barely work out what he’s saying because he rambles it all into one breath, grunting into your shoulder as his balls slap against you, pushing you towards one final orgasm and himself toward his first release. you could barely think straight, but you knew a conversation was due after he’d finished emptying his balls into you.

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hwaslvtt · 2 years ago

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Just Friends

pairing: beomgyu x reader

summary: Just friends, just friends. That's all there is, all there's ever been but have you really ever been just friends?

warnings: gn reader, dom reader, sub beomgyu, thigh riding, handjob, lots of groping, car sex, mentions of masturbation, possibly more that i forgot

word count: 2.2k

a/n: writer's block is so real, i literal pulled this out of a sleep-deprived haze at 4 in the morning so feedback would be appreciated<3

Just friends. He tells himself over and over again.

Just friends. You tell yourself over and over again.

But friends don't do things like this on rainy nights in the back of your car. With your windows fogging up and the only light coming from a lone streetlight from the corner of the parking lot.

Friends don't clutch his hips, grinding him down against your thigh. Friends don't pant heavily at the feeling of his fingernails digging deep into the skin of your shoulders almost hard enough to draw blood.

At least they shouldn't.

But maybe you and Beomgyu have never really been 'just friends'.

"God," but it's never gone this far before. "Don't stop, please, don't stop!"

Sure there's been teasing touches and lingering looks, meaningful conversations that maybe meant more than either of you had wanted to admit.

But you hadn't expected it to go this far.

To have him clinging to you. To have his lips all over your neck and your hands all in his hair.

To have his pants discarded somewhere in the back along with his boxers in your haste...

To have his dick rubbing against the rough material of your jeans. To have him sobbing into your ear to not stop, to never stop, that he'll die without your touch.

You suppose your best friend has always been a touch dramatic.

If you could even call him that anymore-your best friend.

"Don't worry baby," every nerve ending in his body feels like it's on fire. His ears feel like they're ringing, replaying your words over and over like a broken record. "I won't."

It feels so good, it hurts so bad.

Tears stream down his face from both-from everything. From you calling him baby like he's yours. With so much affection and adoration, like he's the most important thing in the world to you right now.

Like he isn't shaking against you, crying out like some kind of wounded animal (in heat), thinking or maybe even muttering how he can't get enough, how it'll never be enough, how he wants you so bad, how he'll die before he lets you go.

Your hand guides his lips to yours, soft and sweet and hungry. Devouring every one of his whines up and replying with your own want for more, kissing him like your life depends on it. You'd always thought that he'd sound pretty, but not this pretty, not this pathetic or needy.

"Fuck, Beomgyu."

Your mouth clashes against his over and over, saliva dripping down his chin as he tries and fails in trying not to drool. You're too preoccupied in nipping at his lips that you're faintly aware of his hands slipping under your shirt until they're on your chest, squeezing and exploring everything he's only fantasized of.

He hasn't felt this good before. Ever. Not from past partners or from his own hand. Toys feel like nothing compared to this, the unforgiving bite of denim somehow lightyears better than vibrators and dildos and whatever else he's used to replicate your touch.

The friction makes him feel like he's burning but his hips just rut faster. He wishes it was your skin, soft and comfortable and you-but he doesn't think he can be patient enough. Doesn't think he can find it in himself to let go of you long enough for you to take your pants off. He has his nose in your hair and the taste of you on his tongue, and he can't stop now.

He can't stop. Not when he's wanted this for so, so long.

Okay, so maybe you've never truly been 'just friends'.

Well, maybe before that first time you were out at a party together and a friend of a friend approached Beomgyu, trying to talk him up while you stood right next to him.

Before you'd watched, something ugly simmering in the pit of your stomach that you couldn't fully decipher-that you weren't sure you wanted to decipher.

It was only until Beomgyu shot you a pleading look that you were able to keep your cool and then you'd very kindly told that friend of a friend to back the fuck off and leave the two of you alone.

And maybe, just maybe Beomgyu had gone home that night and let his hand wander past his waistband to wrap around his aching cock.

Jesus christ.

With each stroke of his hand he conjured your image in his mind. It was you looking at him, watching him-touching him. Talking to him in that same cold, mean voice you had talked to that friend of a friend.

Hating him and loving him all in one, rough and cruel but soft and caring. He wanted all of it, all of you.

And then afterwards it was basking in an afterglow of remembering the way that your eyes softened once again when they landed on him and your hand touched his shoulder and you asked if he was okay.

Friends do this...right? He'd thought, not ready yet to admit that maybe it was something more.

Just friends that brought you to his apartment a few weeks later, slightly ashamed and very drunk and looking for some kind of comfort after you'd been out drinking for better part of the night.

Just friends that had your hands all over his body and your lips all over his throat, sloppy wet kisses making his head spin and his body heat up. That'd had you shoving him down onto the couch and climbing on top of him, pushing your knee between his legs as your cold hands slithered up his shirt in search of warm, smooth skin to lay claim on as yours.

Just friends with the way that you promptly passed out on top of him and conveniently remembered nothing of the night before. Of groping your best friend, of telling him how pretty he was, of whispering that he was a good boy.

'I want you.'

'You're so pretty.'

'Perfect.'

'My good boy.'

'Mine.'

Friends don't know the way his moans sound. Or the way his skin feels against yours.

Like tonight,

A movie. That was all it was supposed to be.

Platonic. Friends. Just going to see a movie together, get dinner after. Nothing more.

"Touch me! G-od, please touch me!" His hand flies up, fingers dig into your wrist as he pulls it down between his legs, his dick throbbing and needy.

It feels so much better-your hand-your skin, your fingers loosely wrapping around him, teasingly rubbing at the tip. "And why should I baby? Have you been good? Have you been a good boy?"

He doesn't know.

He doesn't knowHe doesn't knowHe doesn't know.

All he knows is you.

Just friends shouldn't let things get to this point.

...Oh well.

A movie. A quiet theatre. Darkness and eyes all too often glancing at the profile of the other.

A tension palpable in the air as fingers brushed against each other to grab popcorn. Hands aching, itching to hold each other. An agonizing one hundred and twenty minutes.

Nothing though.

Only getting into the car afterwards and driving off.

"What do you want to eat?" He only shrugs in reply and you roll your eyes. "Helpful."

"Well I dunno," he thinks, "the usual? I can place an order to your place and we should get back before it gets there."

You hum in reply. "It's late though, you planning to stay over for the night?"

"...Sure."

Hesitation. He can only think of the last time you stayed the night. So long ago now, he'd avoided either of you spending the night at the others ever since. From fear? From preservation? Or from hoping that your frustration would break the dam first.

'I want you.'

'Mine.'

Words that flash through his mind unbridled. Sounds and touches that flood his brain

'My good boy.'

He swallows, trying to keep his eyes on the screen of the phone. Trying to hope the darkness blankets how red his face has turned.

"Hey could you pull over here?"

"Sure?" You'd glanced over at him and the question on your face evident.

He didn't elaborate though and you didn't ask.

You'd pulled into a mostly empty parking lot. Only a few cars left in front of a grey, drab building. Parked beside a flickering streetlight that continued for a few minutes before doing out completely. Certainly the furthest thing from being romantic by any means.

Nothing specific broke the tension, the unspoken rules.

But the next thing the either of you know is he's on your lap clawing at you aimlessly, pure desire fuelling him to do such pathetic things. Like telling you how horny he is and how bad he needs you.

You don't seem to have any problem with his confession though.

Responding in turn rather appropriately you'd think. And then your lips are against his and you're tugging at his clothes and touching his body like he's your last lifeline.

And then you're in the backseat of the car, his pants and boxers discarded into the back, your lips curled into a smirk against his skin.

And then you're here.

Doing things that friends certainly should not be doing.

"M' a good boy, promise! Please, I'll be your good boy!"

You'd imagined how his face would look all fucked out all but a million times in the dead of night, thinking about things you certainly should not have been thinking about.

But you'd never know that your imagination would do absolutely no justice to the real thing.

To his lips slick with your spit and his skin glowing with a sheen of sweat. Eyes fluttering like he's fighting to merely keep them open with every sensation he's feeling.

"Pretty~" you mutter.

Bite marks and hickeys all over his neck and collarbone-good thing it's nearly scarf season. Or bad thing, you're not sure you want him to hide these or if you want him to parade them around, show off your claim to him to everyone.

"So fucking pretty it's not fair-" a high, needy whine climbs up his throat and he lets it, because you don't even have to say it, he knows how much you love hearing how good you make him feel.

His eyebrows tug together as if in concentration. Concentration to stay sane while you let him fuck into your hand.

You trail a finger over his cheekbone, collecting a tear while everything within him tries not to let this end, because it can't be over yet, he doesn't want it to be over yet and he's not sure he can go again until later-if there is a later.

You lick the tear off your finger and his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head. "Not fucking fair to make me wait this long. Such a tease, such a whore."

Fingers press against his lips and he opens with zero hesitation. This is what you want, this is what he wants-more than anything.

You pull them out all too soon and replace your fingers with your tongue, letting him suck it into his mouth with a moan.

Your grip tightens, your hand moves faster and faster and his toes curl. Too much, too much-he can't...it can't, he doesn't want this to be over-

"No!"

His head falls into your neck with a strangled scream as he cums into your hand, staining your jeans and his shirt. You stroke him still to prolong the pleasure, milking him dry of everything he has before he lets out the first whine of protest and you stop.

"Please,"

His breath comes out in rushed pants, his head a jumbled mess of "more, please more-" followed by incoherent babbles and then, finally, "I can go again, wanna...wanna go again. Just...use me, use me however you want." as his hips work still, even if it only works against what he really wants, releasing pained whimpers all the while from the self-inflicted overstimulation.

You smile and he can practically hear it before he's flipped into his back, spread out and pinned against the slightly uncomfortable seats of your car as you press apart his legs, eyes roving over him before beginning to undo your pants.

"Use you, huh baby?"

Yes.

However you want. Use him however you want. That's all he wants. All he's wanted for so long.

The pads of your fingers press against his thigh, too close and he squirms with oversensitivity.

"We'll still be friends after this though right?"

He lets out a noise between a cry and an affirmation, eyes sliding shut as your body presses against his.

"Friends!" He gasps.

Your fingers lace together. You smile.

"But not just friends now are we...?"

a/n: y'all please forgive me if this is absolute bullshit. i feel like i haven't written anything for real in forever and i feel like rusty now lol. but lmk what you think (to possibly give me inspo to write more lol😭)

my taglist is here if you wanna be added: @hobihearteu, @lemonhongjoong, @laylasbunbunny, @xcookiemonsteer, @hahagay, @maru-matt, @d7dream, @amidstnamjin-and-binchanlix,

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hwaslvtt · 2 years ago

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golden retriever boys who beg to breed you like “oh baby you feel too good i— i can’t hold it— agh fuck, can i do it inside? please baby, can i? p— oh god, please? wanna cum inside you so bad, so fucking bad, can i? i g-got so much for you, wanna fill you up with it please please please baby please—“

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hwaslvtt · 2 years ago

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EXPERIENCE (m.)

könig x inexperienced!reader

tags: age gap, acquaintances to lovers, afab!reader but gn

cw: loss of virginity, cunnilingus, fingering, hand riding (hear me out), pussyjob, talking u thru it, praise, pet names (liebling, little one), size kink/difference, handjob, reassurance/encouragement kink, wet&messy, konig is uncut hehe, squirting

note: konig is in his 40s and reader is in their 20s!

;in which you live in the same building as a really hot, older, military man

9.5k

When you met König, you never expected the harmless interactions to ever evolve into anything substantial. He lived somewhere in the same apartment building as you did, though you didn’t know where exactly. Most times, you would find him in the elevator or cross paths with him in the lobby.

You knew he was in the military, most of the people living in the building were. It was close to the nearby base and had rent for a damn good price. The way he carried himself, back straight and body seemingly always at attention gave him away.

He was massive, standing much taller above you with broad shoulders and thick thighs. A lot of the time he was wearing a hood over his face, mostly when he was coming or going from work – which was seemingly all the time.

On the few occasions that you caught him without the hood, you could tell it was him solely by his build. There was no one else in the building who looked anything like that.

He was handsome, in a rugged, tired kind of way. He was a lot older than you were expecting him to be – probably in his early to mid forties, you guessed. He had salt and pepper hair, fine lines etched onto his face, and stern eyes from (no doubt) many years in the military.

You had never properly spoken to him before. Hell, you didn’t even know his name. You greeted him when you saw him and smiled in passing when you made eye contact. Occasionally, he would respond in an accented voice that you longed to ask about.

The event that changed everything was a fun little night out you had with your friends. You had maybe had a bit too much to drink before finally conceding at your friends’ behest to call yourself an Uber.

By the time you reach your apartment building, you’re still very buzzed and starting to feel a little nauseous. You stumble to the elevator and impatiently slam your thumb on the button over and over again, losing count as you do.

“It’s not going to come any faster,” an accented voice drones next to you, nearly making you jump out of your skin.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you wheeze, hand over your racing heart.

“You should be more aware of your surroundings then,” he says, “Especially when you are intoxicated.”

You huff through your nose, growing annoyed at the prospect of being lectured. The elevator grants mercy and dings before slowly opening. There's a rowdy group of men inside who quickly walk out of the elevator, seedy eyes immediately finding their way to you, scanning your body up and down as they pass by.

You feel that nauseous pit in your stomach twist as you finally step onto the elevator. Nothing to ruin your jovial mood from a nice evening more than a group of leering men. Living in an apartment building filled with soldiers, it wasn’t unusual to have them stare at you – didn’t mean you liked it.

You cross your arms over your chest as König steps on, the elevator creaking and groaning under his immense weight.

“What floor?” he asks softly, glancing at you over his shoulder as he stands in front of the button panel.

“3,” you mumble, leaning against the back wall. You watch him punch in the 3 but not anything else, making you raise a brow, “You live on 3 too?”

He shakes his head but doesn’t say another word. You narrow your eyes at his back, if he feels you looking, he doesn’t give it away. The elevator is plunged into silence aside from the quiet sound of the shaft moving up and up until it dings and the doors slide open.

He steps out first, standing in the threshold to keep the door from closing as you push yourself off the wall. Your head swims for a second and you stumble past him, keenly aware of his eyes on you.

You wander down the hallway, glancing over your shoulder to see him slowly stalking behind you. His arms hand limply by his sides, his fists clenched into fists but he remains a respectable distance.

“Why are you following me?” you ask, unable to hide the nervousness in your tone, “You said you don’t live on this floor.”

“Young recruits are tools,” he supplies simply, “I am making sure you make it to your door without any problems.”

That causes you to hum and for a little flutter in your stomach to manifest. You brush it off and pause at your door, pulling your keys out so unlock it. You push it open and step in, letting it hit your back to keep it from closing as you turn to look at your companion.

“Thank you…um…” you clear your throat and look at him expectantly.

“König,” he supplies simply, arms tucked behind his back, making him look even wider.

“König…” you repeat, feeling the words on your tongue, “Interesting name. Where are you from?”

“Austria,” he replies almost mechanically, “I will be going now.”

You don’t get to say another word before he’s stalking away and down the hallway, heavy footfalls practically rumbling the ground beneath him. You slowly close your door and lean against it, hand placed over your racing heart – when did that start up?

You blame it on your inexperience when it comes to men. You’d had a couple boyfriends, pretty standard for someone in their 20s. Your problem was none of them were ever good enough. The over-zealous types who wanted their dicks sucked as gratitude for paying for dinner. Then would turn around and either give you the most lackluster head of your life, barely any foreplay before trying to shove his dick into an unprepared hole.

You had never given them the chance, once they showed they were only interested in their own pleasure and would more than likely not even think about touching your clit or angling for your g-spot, you stopped them and kicked them out. More often than not, you woke up to a break-up text because of course you did.

So that was how you were still a virgin and more or less, at this point, given up on dating. You’d been single now for the better part of 6 months and had no intentions of giving any men your own age a shot at it.

But…you hadn’t considered an older man. Like König.

At that thought, you pushed yourself off the door and kicked your shoes off, intent on taking a shower to hopefully wash these drunken thoughts out of your head. So he’d been nice and walked you to your door, no questions asked, so what? Didn’t make him any different from men your age.

As you made it to the bathroom, you felt your stomach finally churn for the final time and found your head buried in the toilet. You cursed yourself for not listening to your friends, who apparently knew your own limits better than you did.

The next time you see König is just a few days later. You walk into the apartment’s gym on the ground floor, and there he is – sitting lifting weights. You pause when you see him, feeling that traitorous flutter in your chest you were sure you puked out that night you had learned his name.

You watch the way his biceps flex, bulging so large you’re sure not even two of your hands could wrap around the girth of it. There were some scars littering his skin, most of them white and raised from age but a few that still had that new tissue pink color. You also noticed some fading tattoos encircling his forearms. Fuck, he was hot.

You hung your head and scampered over to the treadmill, intent on getting your cardio up.

As you run, you notice a group waltz in, laughing and shoving each other. You glance over at them, rolling your eyes when some of them make eye contact and nudge their buddies. They lean in close and whisper to each other with shit eating grins on their faces and you find frustration building up so you try to ignore them.

“Quiet,” you hear an accented voice snap, full of authority, “You are disturbing everyone.”

The rowdy young men quiet down immediately and clear their throats, “S-Sorry, Colonel,” one of them utters.

‘Colonel? Is that high ranking?’ you find yourself wondering, making a mental note to look that up later.

Either way, König manages to make the gym peaceful once again and you finish your workout with no other hitches.

You grab your towel and dab at the sweat on your face and neck as you swiftly make your way out of the gym, completely unaware of the shadow following closely behind.

You slow to a stop at the elevator, punching the button to call it as you sip on your water bottle, mindlessly going over what else you need to do with your day. The shadow behind you remains stagnant, still and silent as it lurks behind your unsuspecting form as the elevator opens and you step on.

He follows, hefty weight causing the elevator to groan as usual. That gets your attention and you jump, placing a delicate hand over your racing heart just like you had before, eyes wide in shock at his appearance.

“You’re doing it on purpose now!” you whine at him and he has to fight back a smile at it.

“I told you that you needed to pay more attention to your surroundings,” he replies smoothly, pressing the 3 button for you before pressing 5 for himself.

“How is a guy as big as you able to be so quiet?” you ask softly, making note of the floor he lives on.

“Years of training,” he gives a quick response that you hum at. There is a beat of silence before he finds himself speaking again, “You never gave me your name.”

He sees the way you look at him in surprise and he almost wishes he could rip the words from the air as soon as he says them. He doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea that he actually wants to get to know you.

But you smile softly and give him your name with a kind nod of your head before the elevator grants him mercy and dings at the arrival on your floor.

“See you around, König,” you say as you step off.

He doesn’t respond.

Once back in the safety of your apartment, you find yourself going through the entire interaction in your head over and over again. Your heart races as you think back on him.

It's as you’re making dinner for yourself that you finally have the coherent thought of revelation that you may have a crush on König.

The revelation is almost enough to have you groaning out of frustration into the quiet sanctity of your apartment but you manage to refrain. But you can’t deny you don’t quite know what to do about it now. You had sworn off of men but…that was men your own age. König was…older than you, surely at least 15 years your senior, possibly more. You figure it couldn’t hurt to ask him out for some coffee one of these days.

Except, the next time you see König is almost 2 weeks later. You don’t see hide nor hair of him at all. It definitely puts a damper on your confidence and you almost think your crush was just a fleeting little thing and for that you’re grateful for.

Until the elevator opens one day and there he is. He’s wearing his hood but his eyes look even more exhausted than usual – beyond the general tiredness that comes with age. You carefully step on, joining him in the downward descent to the lobby. It’s just the two of you and feel that fluttering in your chest start up again and your hands begin to sweat. You scour your brain for something to say — anything to start up a conversation after so long of not seeing him.

“Haven’t seen you around,” you mutter softly. He hums softly in acknowledgement but doesn’t supply much of a response beyond that, “Where have you been?” you try again.

“Deployed,” he finally responds after several seconds of silence.

You can’t find any way to respond or keep the conversation going but it’s sure that he has no intentions of doing so anyway. Still, it surprised you that he had been deployed, you hadn’t considered that. It made sense now that you thought about it.

The elevator opened and you both stepped out. He walked much faster than you, beelining out of the apartment and you briefly considered letting him go but another part of you wanted to stop him and ask him out.

You cursed to yourself and jogged forward, calling his name. He stopped in his tracks at the sound of you calling for him. He looks down at you over his nose, a burning gaze that makes your nervousness spike. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good time after all.

“What?” he snaps, clearly impatient.

“Oh um…” you clear your throat and slow to a stop, “N-Nevermind…”

He huffs through his nose and resumes storming out of the apartment. You find yourself sighing deeply, following his lead. When you get outside, he’s nowhere to be seen and you once again find yourself wondering how a man of his size is so good at not being seen.

A few nights later, the weekend rolls around and you find yourself standing in that damned elevator with him once again. He’s maskless and it gives you pause before stepping on.

It’s silent for a few seconds before he says, “I am sorry for the other day.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, “Um…what do you mean?”

“I was not polite towards you,” he answers, casting a soft gaze towards you that makes your heart flutter, “I took my bad mood out on you and I should not have. So…I am sorry.”

“Oh…” you clear your throat and give him a smile, “it’s alright, König. I shouldn’t have bothered you with something silly.”

He frowns at you, “Something silly?”

“It’s nothing,” you assure him, smiling kindly at him.

He wants to ask you what you mean but the elevator door opens and you step out, making him realize that you reached your floor. You wave your goodbye to him as the doors close and he lets his head fall back with a sigh once he’s alone.

Yet another bad day weighed heavily on his shoulders when you came waltzing into the elevator, bright eyed and happy. His fists were clenched behind his back and he did his best to avoid looking at you, hoping you would take the hint and not speak to him like you usually did. It hadn’t been but a day since he had apologized to you for making an ass of himself in the lobby and he didn’t want to do the same thing so soon after.

But then you say something that sends it all crumbling down.

“Hey…” you start, fidgeting your fingers in front of you, “Would you like to get coffee sometime? Maybe lunch?”

You ask it so sweetly and softly. For some reason, that grates on his nerves even more than anything.

“What?” he snaps, cold and sharp in a way that makes you visibly freeze.

You look up at him like a deer caught in the headlights, “Um…w-well, I just…it’s…I would like to…”

Your nervous babbling only serves to piss him off even more as his glare narrows down on you, making you shrink in on yourself where you stand. Suddenly, the elevator feels much smaller than it had ever before – even with him filling most of the space as usual.

“You want to go out with me?” he spits, his accent growing stronger with every venomous word that he can’t seem to stop from spilling from his lips, “I am twice your age, what the hell makes you think I would want to date you?”

You swallow thickly around the lump forming in your throat and bite back the tears that threaten to form. He hears you sniffle and promptly snaps his head to look at you. Under the ugly, yellow light of the elevator he can see the tears trickling down your cheeks and he suddenly wants to slap himself into the next decade.

He wants to open his mouth so badly and apologize for being so cruel to you. He knows he could have told you no in a much softer way rather than making your feelings seem like something revolting or stupid. But the elevator doors open and you’re slipping out before he even has a chance. He decides not to chase after you.

It’s for the best, he assures himself.

It only takes a few days before he’s vehemently regretting not stopping you then and there.

It happens on a Friday night, the elevators are closing just as a hand jumps between them, sending them opening again. You step on, giggling in a way that tells him you’re just a little inebriated. You freeze when you see him standing there, maskless and cold gaze as he watches you tug a young man into the elevator behind you – clearly a little drunk himself.

You pointedly stand in front of König, keeping your back to him to show that you’re not even willing to look at him. König feels his heart clench painfully in his chest before it’s replaced by a wash of anger as he watches the young man paw at you. He slips his hand down your back to grope at your ass, making you giggle breathlessly before you’re batting his hands away with a little bat of your lashes.

König wishes he had an excuse to step off the elevator at the same time as you – anything to prolong his time with you. He’s never felt the desire to cockblock someone more in his whole entire life.

But he doesn’t move. He just watches you step off without a single glance in his direction before you’re vanishing around the corner and the elevator doors close silently, leaving König alone with his thoughts.

You couldn’t believe you brought this guy to your apartment. You especially couldn’t believe you were letting him strip you of your clothes and paw at your body like some kind of mindless dog. You had sworn to yourself that you were not going to fall into this trap again – a 20-something year old guy buying you a drink, complimenting you a little, teasing and groping you in the club until you caved and brought him home. It wasn’t your first go around – and it always ended the same way.

But you were drunk and you needed to get your mind off that stupid, giant Austrian military man that lived in your building. And wouldn’t you know it, he was on the elevator as soon as you got in. It was almost enough to sober you up, your wounded pride and feelings still so prevalent even after a few days of nursing the hurt.

You could only hope that this would relieve you of your hurt feelings.

Unfortunately, you quickly realized that this was a mistake.

As soon as he started groping you, spreading your legs and trying to stuff his cock inside you without so much as a single finger of prep – you knew this wasn’t going to happen.

You tried to lead him, thinking maybe he was a little too tipsy to actually think about it.

“How about a little prep, hm?” you ask softly.

He pauses what he’s doing and you can practically see the gears turning in his head, “Oh…you’re one of those…”

He says it in disgust and you feel yourself bristle in annoyance, “One of what?”

“You want me to eat you out, right?” he scoffs, rolling his eyes, “That shit’s gross, c’mon just let me stick it in, already.” It was that moment that you felt any minute desire you had to have sex evaporate.

You don’t even bother walking the guy out, leaving him to limp to the elevator in shame with a hard cock and blue balls.

It takes you a few days to find it in yourself to crawl out of your apartment. The only reason you actually do leave is because you’re in need of food – your little supply of ramen has depleted and you have to bite the bullet.

After your little shopping trip at the nearby convenience store, you find yourself waiting for the elevator when a dark shadow looms over you. You feel a pit of dread in your stomach as you smell the musky, sweet scent of his cologne. But you don’t dare acknowledge his presence.

He doesn’t give you long to ignore him, however, before he’s talking to you.

“How was your little date?” he asks, voice dripping in a tone of condescension that immediately puts you on edge.

“What’s it to you?” you hiss, still not daring to look at him.

He scoffs, “You went and found yourself a little toy to play with awfully fast. Seems your interest in me wore off quickly, no?”

That gets you to finally turn around, meeting his cold, indifferent gaze with your hot, teary one. You miss the look of surprise that flashes over his face.

“What is your problem?” you snap, “You rejected me, what the hell do you care what I do? And for your information, the date was shit. He was shit, like I should have expected any difference. God, I really am a fucking idiot,” you find yourself rambling, a lamenting spiel that you can’t seem to stop no matter how badly you want to, “Just like every prick before him, he was selfish and revolting. I thought I could finally get fucking laid and just call it a day but no, my stupid standards are too high and I find myself asking out the hot older guy in my building only for him to find me revolting!”

By the time you’re done ranting, the doors open and you storm out of the elevator, angrily gripping your bag of groceries. König is frozen where he stands, watching you leave as the doors slowly close – almost begging him to put his hand between them and stop them so he can chase after you.

But he doesn’t.

It’s creeping up on midnight when there’s a knock on your apartment door. You’re curled up on the couch, watching some random show that you weren’t really invested in but couldn’t be bothered to change.

The knock makes you jump, startled, but get up nonetheless. A quick peek in the peephole tells you exactly who it is before you even open it.

You briefly consider not opening it period but find yourself opening it before you actually settle on a decision.

König stands in front of you, a bouquet of flowers clutched in his hand, looking comically small. The sight is almost enough to get you to crack a smile. Almost.

But the residual hurt from the last few interactions you’ve had with him is enough to keep you stoic. You raise a brow and you practically see his confidence falter. A pang of guilt goes through you at the sight and you step aside, waving him in with a quiet huff.

He closes the door behind him softly, kicking his boots off as he watches you wander into the living room. You take a seat on your couch, covering yourself with your throw blanket once again as you watch him wander in, gazing around at your decor before finally settling on you.

“Um…” He clears his throat nervously and places the flowers on your coffee table, “I think that we should talk…”

“Should we?” you quip back.

He sighs, broad shoulders heaving with the movement before he takes a seat beside you, taking up a hefty amount of space on your small couch.

“I want to apologize,” he says softly, folding his hands in his lap, “When you asked me out…I-I should not have spoken to you like that.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest, “If that’s all this is about, König, then you can go. I-I don’t really want to hear a half-assed apology about the way you rejected me. You’re not interested, let’s just move on from it. I’ll get over it.”

He shakes his head quickly and curses under his breath, a word you don’t understand – German, your brain supplies, helpfully.

“You are wrong,” he says, “I do not want you to get over it because I am interested.”

The gets you to perk up, eyes wide, “What do you mean? You said you–”

“I know what I said,” he mutters, “I am…twice your age…”

“So you mentioned before…” you reply.

“I do not think…you should be with someone old like me,” he continues softly, “You should be with someone your own age. That is what I thought. It is not that I don’t find you attractive; I think you’re sweet and lovely. But it's just…our age difference…”

“König,” you stop him from continuing, “I’m capable of making my own decisions.”

“I understand that but…” he trails off, casting a sideways glance across the room, away from you.

“I’ve tried dating men my own age, König,” you say, “It always ends the same – I send them home blue balled.”

He huffs out a laugh through his nose and finally sets his gaze back on you, “Why do you do that?”

“I don’t plan to…” you begin, running your hand along the soft fabric of your blanket, “it’s just that...I bring them home and then we start getting into it and it fucking sucks!”

“Sucks..?” The question is soft and drawn out.

“He wants to fuck my throat and won’t even give me his fingers before trying to stick his dick in,” you spit, angrily glaring at the tv as you remember all your shit encounters, “I’ve never even let one of them go all the way.”

“You’re a virgin…?” he asks.

You shrug your shoulders, “I guess. I mean I’ve had shitty oral and stuff but…”

“I see…” he trails off, shifting in his seat, hands still folded in his lap, “Well, I would like to take you out for a date after all.”

You find a smile spreading across your face faster than you can stop it. You jump to your knees and throw your arms around his shoulders with a squeal of happiness, “Really? You mean it?”

He laughs breathlessly, a husky little sound that makes your heart race, “Does this weekend work for you?”

You eagerly nod your head and lean in. You catch the way his eyes widen briefly before your lips meet. You think he’s going to pull away from you but instead he cups the back of your head and deepens the kiss.

You feel a shiver go through you at the feeling of his big, strong hand holding you there in the kiss. You couldn’t keep yourself from getting wet even if you wanted to.

With your hands pressed against his firm chest, you toss one leg over his lap and find yourself seated on top of him. He breaks the kiss at that, hands migrating to your waist where he mindlessly strokes his thumb over the skin exposed by the way your shirt rode up.

You lean down and kiss him again and he groans against your mouth. You grind down against him in response to the throb that makes your pussy clench around nothing. You whimper into the kiss when he suddenly stops your movements with a firm grip.

“We shouldn’t, liebling,” he whispers softly.

“Why not?” you whine, settling in his lips. You briefly realize that you can feel something hard beneath you and that makes you start dripping in your panties, “Don’t you want to?”

“I-I do…” he assures, “I just…want to properly court you…”

He couldn’t get any sweeter if he tried. Still, you quip back with a teasing little smile, “Wow, you are a lot older than me, huh?”

You feel giddy when the sweet look in his eyes melts away into something darker. One hand clasps the back of your head before he pulls you in for a much rougher kiss. You keen as you feel the way he exudes experience – the kiss like nothing you have ever experienced before.

The way he moves his lips and slips his tongue into your mouth to taste your mouth, it’s not gross or too much the way it sometimes is with men who don’t know what they’re doing.you find yourself moaning into the kiss before you even realize it.

He pulls away at that, a heady look in his pretty, blue eyes. You find yourself briefly lamenting the loss of his mouth but that thought disappears quickly when he moves to begin peppering kisses along the length of your neck, making sure to nip at your jaw and kiss your shoulder.

He tugs the hem of your t-shirt down just a bit so he can have access to your collar bones, nipping and kissing there as well. Your head falls back as you surrender yourself to him completely.

“Oh,” he coos softly, lips brushing against your ear, “You are just so sweet for me, aren’t you, little one?”

You practically whimper at his words as his hands slip under the hem of your shirt, fingertips barely grazing your skin. You squirm in his lap as his touch tickles you on his way up to your breasts, skirting over your ribs before fully cupping them in his roughened palms.

You sigh into the quiet room, arching your back to press deeper into his hands. His thumbs graze over your nipples and you moan.

Sure, you’ve had guys grope your tits before but it had never felt like this. The mindless squishing and squeezing was replaced with soft cupping and gentle brushes over your nipples until they hardened followed by pinches and flicks that left you absolutely dripping in your panties.

He takes mercy on you quickly, one hand sliding down your body to slide under your sweatpants and beneath your panties. Your hands grip his shoulders, blunt nails biting into them when one broad finger slides down, the sticky noise of your folds separating enough to send heat rushing to your cheeks.

“You’re so wet,” he whispers in a tone so soft you almost think it wasn’t meant for you, but then he tacks on, “Do you hear it?”

“Y-Yeah,” you whimper, embarrassment flooding through you at the sticky, clicking noises that come along with his prodding, “N-Never been this wet before, König…”

That causes him to pause, blue eyes gazing at you through his eyelashes, “Is that so..?” You desperately nod your head, slowly beginning to rock your hips against his hand, but he doesn’t move again and you whine, “Has anyone ever made you cum on their fingers?”

“J-Just me,” you answer breathlessly without a second thought.

He hums thoughtfully and after a second, he begins moving his hand again. This time he introduces more fingers, spreading your folds apart with his index and ring so he can pet your hardened clit with his middle. The feeling makes tremors run through your body and he huffs a laugh, “I guess I will show you what it feels like then, yeah?”

He doesn’t give you a moment to think let alone answer before his middle finger is sliding into you. The one digit alone is enough to stretch you, given how massive he is in whole. He crooks his finger forward and a moan rips from your chest when he hits that gooey little spot inside you.

“A-Another, please, König!” you beg shamelessly.

“Shh,” he hushes, shaking his head, “Let me work you open on this and then you can have more.”

You practically wail in despair, letting your forehead drop forward onto his shoulder. You suddenly wish you had rid yourself of your clothes so you could see the way his hand worked against you. All you could see now was the faint movement under your pants but the mental image of that thick finger inside you, slick with your juices was enough to have you clenching desperately around him.

After a moment, he adds a second finger and you feel like you’re in heaven. The stretch is phenomenal and his palm bumps against your clit every time he sinks them into the last knuckle.

However, before he can set a rhythm to really start getting you off, he stops. You angrily lean back and glare at him – the sight has his lips quirking up.

“Ride my fingers,” he orders you, leaving no room for arguing.

You can tell he’s not going to give you anything unless you take it for yourself so you sit up higher on your knees so you can have the clearance to move. Your hands remain on his shoulders, clinging to him for stability as you clumsily begin to rock your hips. The only time you’ve ever done these movements is when you tried humping your pillow once after seeing it in some porn. It didn’t really do much for you so you never tried again.

König can tell your movements are clumsy and it makes his cock throb against his thigh. He helps you along, crooking his fingers just right to grind the tips against that sweet little spot inside you. It makes you moan beautifully and he files the noise away.

His other hand comes up to grip your hip, steadying you as you continue to hump his fingers. You’re growing more and more frustrated as you quickly realize that you’re not able to make it feel as good as he had earlier. The tearful little gaze you give him has him breaking, using the hand on your hip guiding you into more seamless movements.

“Like this, liebling,” he directs softly, “Grind down like that, mhm, give that little clit some love, yeah?”

You become increasingly breathless as you work yourself higher and higher under his expert guidance. He can feel your juices dripping down his wrist, the snug hold around his fingers growing even tighter with every little rut of your hips.

“You’re so precious,” he coos, feeling the way you clench up at the sound of his voice. Your body is so honest, telling him what you like without you having to say anything, “You’re going to cum, I can feel it. Be good and give it to me, yeah?”

You surge forward and desperately kiss him, one hand reaching down and gripping his wrist. It takes only a few more, desperate thrusts of your hips for you to topple over that edge. Your body trembles on his lap and you cry out in pleasure.

He moans alongside you, watching with rapt attention as you cum all over his fingers just like he told you to.

You slump against him as you come down and he pulls his hands out of your pants. He presses a kiss against your temple in silent praise, hands rubbing your back to soothe you through the aftershocks that run through your body.

You lean back and meet his gaze, an opportunity he takes to slip his cum-soaked fingers into his mouth. At that, you surge forward and kiss him, running your hands down his body to pull at the button of his jeans. He grunts into your mouth, brows furrowing at the release of pressure when you tug the zipper down.

You’re absolutely speechless when you finally pull his cock free. He watches in poorly concealed pride as you gawk at the length in your hand. You give him a slow and tedious tug, watching the foreskin roll over his head, forcing a bead of precum from the tip.

“You’re so…big,” you whisper breathlessly.

“I know,” he grunts, unable to hide the ebbs of pleasure you give him as you play with his cock.

“Cocky,” you tease softly, continuing with your soft touches.

“N-Not cocky,” he whispers, licking his suddenly dry hips, “Just aware of my size.”

You drop your eyes back down to his cock, hot and heavy in your hand. Your fingers don't even touch each other when wrapped around him. Precum drips from the tip, leaking down the side to meet your palm and aid in the movements.

He leans his head back against the couch, closing his eyes and furrowing his brows. It wasn’t often that he got to indulge in someone else’s hand. Your palm was so soft, much softer than his own, and delicate in your inexperience.

He reaches down with one his hands, wrapping around yours to make you squeeze tighter, “Just like that, little one, that’s how I like it.”

You could have drooled as he said it. His hand dwarfed yours and the sight made you clench around nothing, more slick leaking into your already ruined panties.

“Let me see you, liebling,” he whispers breathlessly, fingers hooking on the hem of your top.

You release his cock to lift your arms, letting him tug the fabric over your head. His hands are on your tits immediately, mouthing at your nipples without wasting a second.

“So pretty,” he coos with his mouth full, rolling his tongue over your nipple before nipping the bud with his lips.

He switches to the other one, wrapping his mouth around it, sucking sharply before pulling back, taking your nipple with him before releasing it with a pop. You watch with lidded eyes as he drools all over your tits. His cock flexes and twitches against your thigh as he plays with your tits.

Suddenly, with a firm grip on your waist, your whole world flips and you find yourself on your back on the couch with König on top of you. You lick your lips at the sight of his big, broad form hovering above you, caging you in as he leans down to kiss you again.

You sigh contentedly into his mouth, threading your fingers through his short, messy hair, using the grip to pin him against you. He lets you kiss him to your heart's content, only pulling back when you need air – a string of spit connecting your lips that breaks when he leans back between your thighs.

His fingers took into the band of your pants, tugging them down, taking your panties with them until you’re completely bared before him. He’s still completely clothed aside from his cock that rests against his abdomen, occasionally twitching as his eyes rake over your nude body.

“Tell me, liebling,” he says, strong hands running up the length of your thighs, “Has anyone ever eaten you out?”

You clumsily nod your head.

“Was it good?” he asks, biting back a smile when you shake your head.

“Guys always think it’s gross or something…” you whisper softly.

He hums softly, “That is because you’ve been messing with stupid little boys.”

“You gonna eat me out, König?” you ask him, biting your lip in a poorly concealed excited grin.

“Would you like me to?” as he asks, he slowly spreads your legs open. The position causes your folds to spread apart, opening you up for his greedy eyes.

You feel your breathing speed up as he kisses down your body, starting with your lips and ending right above your clit. You feel the little bud twitch in anticipation as he tongues the skin above it, giving you a sneak peek on what is so close to it.

“Tell me,” he says.

You whine, “Y-Yes, I want you to eat me out, König!”

He chuckles softly but doesn’t bother teasing you anymore. He meets your gaze and moves his tongue lower finally, sliding the flat of the muscle of your clit. You gasp and toss your head back into the cushions, eyes rolling back as he noisily slurps at your cunt.

“O-Oh god!” you wail, hiccuping out noises of pleasure that you can’t seem to quiet.

König is in heaven. It’s not every day that he gets the opportunity to eat such a pretty, inexperienced little cunt. Your reactions to everything are so strong and loud. Your pussy is loud too, squelching in the room, making an intoxicating melody with your moans. He moans against you, swallowing down everything your messy little pussy drools out for him.

“Th-That feels so good, König!” you sob, kicking your feet mindlessly against his back as he captures your clit in his mouth, suckling at the bud, “You’re so good, so good, oh god!”

Never in a million years did you think being eaten out could feel this good. The mindlessly, halfhearted licks and kisses you had received in the past did nothing to prepare you for what it felt like to really have a man’s tongue on you.

He pulls away suddenly, giving you a moment to actually breathe, “You taste so sweet, liebling.”

“König…” you whimper, looking up at him with lidded eyes, “Please, please don’t stop.”

You tug at his hair and attempt to pull his mouth back down on your pussy. You don’t care how pathetic and desperate it is, he has given you a taste of pleasure you’d never experienced before.

He has the audacity to laugh at you, brushing your hands away so he can sit up straight again. He scoots closer and you realize then that he is not planning to continue and it practically draws a sob out of you.

“We can focus on that another time, liebling,” he promises, making you clench around nothing, more slick dribbling out for him to see, “You are so messy, you know that? Never had someone make such a mess all over me before. You must really enjoy being eaten out, huh?”

You feel your face burn hot with shame at his words, shyly hiding your face away. He smiles softly at that, “Nothing to be ashamed of, liebling…I love it, I do.”

“Really?” you quiver out the question and he nods his head.

“Yes, little one,” he coos, “I’m glad that I can make it feel good for you.”

You practically feel hearts in your eyes as he says that. You don’t think you’ve ever had a man tell you that he actually cared and enjoyed your pleasure. That was the final nail in the coffin for you – you really should have been going after older men all this time.

He disrupts your thoughts by suddenly stripping his shirt off. Your mouth goes completely dry at the sight of his bared skin – firm muscle, hair speckled all over his torso, and numerous scars from untold stories of his time in the military. You take note of the faded tattoos that become visible on his pecs and biceps; you’d always noticed the tattoos on his arms but you’d never really been given the opportunity to look.

“You’re so handsome,” you whisper.

He pauses while ridding himself of his jeans and smiles, “Thank you, little one.”

When he’s completely bare to you, you slowly rake your eyes down the entirety of his newly exposed body. His cock hangs heavy under its own weight, glimmering at the tip with his precum. You’d never been with a guy who was uncut but the sight made you drool.

“Now, liebling,” he says suddenly, getting your attention. He scoots closer, spreading your legs as wide as he can before laying the hefty weight of his cock against your cunt. It’s hot and throbbing and your entire body trembles at the sight, “You have to understand something.”

“What..?” you ask, breathless and unable to look away from his cock.

“I am not like those little boys you were running around with,” he explains, hips slowly beginning to rut against you, length parting your folds and rubbing over your clit, drawing a sweet little moan from you, “I don’t stick my cock in a tight little cunt and blow my load, do you know what I’m saying?”

You shake your head, too lost in the sight and feeling of him practically fucking the outside of your pussy. He doesn’t stop the mind-numbing rolls of his hips, letting you get lost in the feeling of him stroking over your clit, saturating him in your cum.

“That means,” he sighs, reaching up to grip your throat, forcing you to look at him as he leaned over your body, sandwiching his cock between the two of you, “I don’t cum easily, liebling. I am a grown man, I will fuck you until you cannot cum anymore. Are you prepared for that?”

The fact this man was so confident in his abilities in bed has you clenching around nothing again. You were sure the guys you almost slept with would never have been able to have the pure confidence that came from König. He knew what he was doing – he knew how to make you cum and he was going to use that experience well. You knew his age played a factor in how long it would take him to cum and you couldn’t wait to experience it.

“I want it so bad, König,” you beg softly, “Please?”

“Very good,” he praised, “You’re so good for me.”

He finally gripped the base of his cock and you watched excitedly as he pressed the tip against your entrance. You reached down and wrapped your arms around your knees, pulling them back for him so he could comfortably begin pressing into you.

The stretch is beyond anything you’d ever felt before. You knew his cock was big but watching the bulbous tip press against you and slowly spread you wide open was something else entirely. It burned in a way that had you wincing, furrowed brows making your face pinch up, making König pause.

“It’s okay, little one,” he whispers, bringing a big thumb up to roll over your hard little clit, “Just relax for me, don’t clench up or it will hurt more.”

“I-It’s so big, König!” you wail helplessly, tearily staring up at him as he methodically works you open on his cock.

“I know,” he assures, still stroking your clit with the pad of his thumb, “But you can take it.”

You tearfully nod your head and do your best to relax your body, letting yourself sink into the couch.

“Good, liebling, very good,” he coos, “Just let me in, nice and slow. Doesn’t it feel nice? The little burn of being stretched open but the pleasure of having this pretty little clit played with? Just lay back and enjoy it, little one.”

He’s right, of course. The burn aches, yes, but the pain and pleasure mixes the more he rubs your clit. You clench around him, an involuntary reaction that causes the head of his cock to finally pop in. Your eyes widen as you watch your cunt swallow it and with a perfectly timed tap against your clit, your back arches and you’re cumming.

“O-Oh König!” you squeal, eyes rolling back into your head as you cum around the head of his cock and nothing else.

“Oh, that’s good,” he grins, “That’s perfect, little one.”

As you come down with a tremble in your thighs, you finally fix your gaze on him once again.His eyes are lidded and pupils are blown so wide you can’t even tell they’re blue anymore.

“That looked like a good one,” he comments almost flippantly before he rolls his hips forward, “Now you’re nice and ready for me.”

You choke on a gasp as he rolls his hips forward, fitting half of his cock inside your still spasming cunt. Your cum coats him in a slick sheen that aides in allowing him to pull back and slide back in, settling on fucking you on half his cock.

Your mouth falls open and you watch as a thick, milky ring forms around that fat middle part of his shaft, “M-More, König! Please!”

He knows you want all of him, want to know what it’s like to feel all of him stuffed deep inside you. But he knows you’re not quite ready for that yet, fucked out of your head from the intense orgasm he had just given you with ease.

“Not yet, liebling,” he coos, keeping his pace slow and steady, “Let’s work you open a little bit more, yeah?”

“No,” you whine, “Please, I want it all, König.”

“Aww, I know you do, little one,” he pants, already feeling dizzy from spearing you on his cock, “But I know what’s good for you, just listen to me and be good, okay?”

“Okay…” you pitifully whimper, sinking back into the couch.

You abandon your hold on your legs, letting them rest around his hips limply now. He continues moving like that, inching deeper and deeper into you with every thrust. Your cunt makes embarrassingly loud squishing noises the move he works his hips against you.

Before you know it, you’re watching with wide eyes and an open mouth as his pelvis presses against yours. Your eyes roll back in your head and your toes curl in pure pleasure as you finally experience the entirety of everything König has to offer.

You’re speared wide open and the head knocks against your cervix painfully but the little bit of pain only makes the pleasure that much sweeter.

“There we go, little one,” he coos sweetly, “I’m so proud of you, took all of my cock so well.”

He’s so big that he presses against every sweet little spot inside you without even trying. But, oh, his experience is crystal clear in the way he moves. He may be naturally gifted with a nice, fat cock but he knew how to use it.

Seamless, rhythmic thrusts had your brain going fuzzy before you even knew what was happening. You wouldn’t have been able to be quiet even if you wanted to. You knew you would be absolutely horrified to face your neighbors later because it would be impossible for them to not know you got fucked real good.

Suddenly, König leaned over you, resting one forearm above your head to hold his weight off of you. The position caused his pelvis against your clit every time he sunk balls deep. Sticky strings of your cum stuck to his skin but he didn’t seem to even notice how wet you were.

But, oh, he did. He was absolutely obsessed with the way you creamed and gushed around him. A nice, pliant little pussy that was more than eager to swallow every inch of his cock.

The change in position had you grappling onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you wailed into his shoulder. Every mind-numbing snap of his hips hit that gooey, tender spot inside you that had your entire body twitching from the pleasurable stimulation. Your nails bit into his back and he briefly thought about the prospect of his recruits seeing them.

“Are you going to cum for me?” he whispered in your ear, pressing a sweet kiss underneath your ear.

You nod your head, “Y-Yes! You’re gonna make me c-cum again, König!”

He chuckles under his breath, “I know I am, little one. I’m going to make you squirt.”

“C-Can’t,” you heave, twitchy legs kicking against his back.

“Yes, you can,” he assures, leaning away to sit up once again, “I can make you squirt, trust me.”

The whine you emit pitches into a squeal when he presses his palm against your lower stomach. You reached down in a panic to grab his wrist, not used to the strange feeling of him pressing down while he fucks you.

“W-Wait!” you wail.

“Wait for what?” he asks, but doesn’t slow even a bit in his movements.

“F-Feels weird!” you gasp, hiccuping as you squeeze his wrist.

“I know,” he grunts, brows furrowing at the feeling of you clenching around him, “It’s supposed to. Just lay back and let it happen, liebling. I’ve got you.”

Your whole body trembles and your jaw drops as you meet his gaze, a look of wonder crossing your face as you feel an orgasm like you’ve never felt before crash over your body. It’s long, drawn out and almost painful from how good it feels. You squeeze tight around him, your clit twitching and pulsing, completely untouched as he makes you squirt. It splashes against his abdomen and drips down his thighs.

“There we go,” he laughs, a sound that sends a flush of embarrassment to your face, “See? I told you you could do it.”

“König…” you slur, feeling as if you’ve been fucked completely braindead.

It finally dawned on you that you would never, ever be fucked by anyone as good as König has fucked you. The first cock you’ve ever been stuffed full of and he made you squirt with terrifying ease. You were completely ruined, no dick would ever be able to compare to his.

He sees the way your gaze turns completely enamored, looking at him like he hung the moon and stars. He grins, sharp canines poking out as he leans down again, kissing your temple.

“What is it, baby?” he coos, “Dick so good it’s got you in love?”

You keen at the pure condescension that drips from his voice. But he’s not wrong, you can practically feel the hearts in your eyes as you gaze up at him.

You have no idea how long you’ve been pinned beneath him, speared open on his cock while he fucks you absolutely stupid. You notice the change in him quite suddenly. His deep, concentrated thrust changed into something less calculated, messy almost. He loses his rhythm and falters in his pace.

“I’m going to cum, liebling,” he grunts, tone pitchy and gruff, “Where do you want it?”

“Inside!” you immediately cry, not missing a beat. He sees your eyes light up at the prospect of being filled up completely by his cum. You’re so sure it’s going to be a lot, you want to feel it drip out of you as a reminder that he had claimed you.

“Is it safe?” he huffs, but you can feel his cock twitch inside you at the idea of cumming inside you.

You desperately nod your head and he allows himself to fall over that edge. He teeters on his knees before collapsing with his hands on either side of your head. He no longer tries to thrust, settling for desperate, deep grinds that stirs his cock within your walls. Your eyes roll back in your head at the feeling, another orgasm washing over you before you even realize you’re that close.

“Oh, fuck,” König gasps, voice breaking as your orgasm sends him over the edge.

You’re panting and whimpering, trembling as you feel the heat of his load filling you up. His cock twitches with every spurt of cum. It’s the best orgasm he’s had in a long time, his balls throbbing with every pump of cum his cock spits out.

It oozes from around the tight seal you have around him, dripping onto the couch. He’s trembling by the time the intense orgasm comes to an end. He opened his eyes, not even realizing he had closed them, to see you sleepily staring up at him with a dazed smile on your lips.

“Mein Gott…” he huffs out, lowering his body to press his lips against yours sweetly, “That was incredible, liebling.”

You beam under his praise and wrap your arms around his neck, “It was, wasn’t it?”

He chuckles and strokes his thumb against your cheek, “Let’s get cleaned up, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” you agree.

The care he gives you afterwards is like nothing you’ve ever experienced. He wipes your body down gently, careful not to rub your skin too hard. He stands with you in the shower, towering over you as he lathers your exhausted body with soap.

“Can we do that again sometime?” You ask softly when he crawls into bed beside you – which you were shocked about, but didn’t complain.

He raises a brow and chuckles, “Yes, liebling. But not right now, I could not go another round so soon.”

You giggle and snuggle into his broad chest, practically preening when he wraps you up snug against him. You sigh softly and speak up again, “Can we…still go on that date..?”

He’s quiet for a moment before you feel a kiss on the top of your head, “Of course, liebling. I would love to.”

You smile to yourself and close your eyes, content to fall asleep wrapped up in his arms. The last thing you feel before you succumb to sleep is another soft kiss against your head. You realize, sleepily, that you’ve never felt more cared for by a man in your life.

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