#i love their dynamics. golden. /laughs- | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seokwrts · 2 months ago

Text

SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN

KIM MINGYU | nsfw one shot

synopsis : at a wild college party, tension that’s been simmering for weeks finally ignites when Y/N is dared to spend seven minutes in heaven with her cocky, dangerously attractive friend, Mingyu. What starts as a game quickly turns into a heated encounter neither of them will forget—changing everything between them in just seven minutes.

“Seven minutes, let’s see how many times I can make you fall apart before time’s up”

pairing : kim mingyu x f!reader

genre : college au , smut , friends to lovers , mutual pining , forced proximity

word count : 8.1k

warnings : MDNI , sexual content, unprotected sex, sexual innuendo, explicit language, suggestive dialogue, public teasing, mild slut-shaming, mild alcohol use, casual intimacy, and emotionally charged group dynamics.

Y/N was already regretting the second layer of lip gloss when Elle grabbed her by the arm.

“Stop fidgeting,” Elle groaned, eyeing her in the mirror. “You look hot. Slutty, but hot.”

Y/N laughed, brushing a final touch of mascara onto her lashes. “Thanks. I was going for college party, but make it unbothered and slightly unhinged.”

“You nailed it,” Elle said, sliding in her gold hoops with a wink. “Especially the unbothered part. The lip gloss screams, I’m not desperate, but I will step on you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and reached for her leather jacket. “Okay, relax.”

Elle snorted. “Relax? Please. I’ve seen the way you spiral when Mingyu walks into the room.”

Y/N paused. Jacket half on.

“I don’t spiral.”

“Babe,” Elle said, turning to face her fully. “You go feral. Your entire soul leaves your body. I’ve watched it happen. It’s like a full-blown event.”

“I do not go feral,” Y/N insisted, but her face was already heating.

“You literally gasped the last time he wore that grey hoodie that hugs his back like it owes him money.”

“It was a really good hoodie,” Y/N muttered defensively.

“You said, and I quote, ‘That man could ruin my credit score and I’d say thank you.’”

Y/N flopped onto the edge of the bed, groaning into her hands. “Why do you remember everything embarrassing I say?”

“Because your crush on Mingyu is the highlight of my college experience,” Elle said brightly, grabbing her phone. “It’s adorable. Tragic. A little thirsty. But mostly adorable.”

Y/N gave her a look. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“You’ve had a crush on him for how long now? Like… since freshman year?”

“More like the first week of freshman year,” Y/N admitted, voice muffled behind her hands. “He said hi to me in the dining hall line and I forgot how to speak.”

Elle cackled. “So tonight’s the night, then?”

“The night for what?”

“The night your Mingyu thirst saga becomes a spicy enemies-to-lovers one-shot instead of a silent, slow-burn pining fic with no plot.”

Y/N groaned again, but this time she was laughing too. “I hate you.”

“You love me. And I love that I’m manifesting your hot girl era.”

She finally stood, adjusting her skirt one last time. “Okay. Let’s go before you start making vision boards.”

They left the dorm around ten, walking into the night like it owed them something. The sidewalks glistened faintly under streetlights from the late drizzle, and the air had that early fall edge—cool enough to raise goosebumps, warm enough not to care.

Y/N clutched her phone in one hand, jacket draped over her shoulders like armor. Every step closer to the party made her heart beat just a little faster.

She didn’t know if tonight would change anything.

But she knew this much:

She looked good. She felt ready.

And if Mingyu looked anything like he usually did—tall, golden-skinned, all stupid charm and sharp jawlines—she was doomed.

Elle bumped her hip against Y/N’s as they reached the end of the block. “Last chance to turn around.”

Y/N took a breath, heart thudding.

“Not a chance.”

The bass thumped through the walls before Y/N and her best friend even stepped inside. It pulsed like a second heartbeat, loud and deep, making the air buzz. “This is packed,” her friend muttered, tugging at the hem of her top as they stepped into the crowded house. Laughter, chatter, and music overlapped into a chaotic hum. Warm bodies pressed close, red cups in nearly every hand, and low amber lights turned the living room into a hazy blur of movement and heat.

Y/N didn’t respond. She barely even heard her.

Because her eyes had already locked onto him. Mingyu.

He was leaning against the kitchen counter like it was his throne. Red cup in hand, head tilted slightly back as he laughed at something someone said. Not just laughed—threw his whole body into it, like he didn’t know how to do anything halfway. His black shirt clung to his broad chest like it had been stitched directly onto his skin. It was criminal, honestly. The way the sleeves hugged his biceps, the way the fabric stretched slightly across his shoulders, the way—

God.

The silver chain at his collarbone gleamed when he turned slightly, catching the light. His dark hair was pushed back casually, revealing the sharp cut of his jawline, the arch of his cheekbones, the perfect curve of his lips. And that smirk?

Deadly. Slow. Deliberate.

She froze. And then he looked up—and noticed her.

Their eyes locked across the room. A beat. Then another. He didn’t look away. His gaze stayed on hers, unwavering, as if everything else had blurred into background noise. He tipped his chin up slightly, the corner of his mouth quirking just enough to say: Yeah. I see you.

Neither did she look away.

“Oh shit,” her best friend whispered, following Y/N’s stare and practically bouncing with excitement. “Is it finally happening?”

“Shut up,” Y/N muttered, but her voice lacked heat. She was too busy trying not to combust. Her lips curled up despite herself. Heat was already blooming on her cheeks, rising up her neck.

Her friend elbowed her. “Go talk to him.”

“What? No.” Y/N blinked and tore her gaze away. “I literally just got here.”

“So? He noticed you. You noticed him. The vibe is already vibing.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but peeked back toward the kitchen. Mingyu was still watching her, now sipping from his cup. Slow. Lazy. Confident.

“I can’t just walk over there,” she muttered.

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll look desperate!”

Her best friend gave her a look. “Girl. You’ve had a crush on him since the first econ lecture. You doodled his initials in your notes.”

“I did not.”

“You did. With hearts.”

Y/N groaned, trying to hide her face in her hands, but the thump of the music gave her away. She peeked again.

Mingyu had shifted. He was still leaning against the counter—but now his body was angled slightly in her direction. His thumb tapped against his cup rhythmically, and then—he raised a brow. Just a little.

Was he—waiting?

Y/N’s breath hitched.

“Okay, but what do I even say?” she mumbled.

Her friend raised a brow. “Hi?”

“I swear to god—”

But before she could finish, someone bumped into her from behind, forcing her a step forward. “Sorry!” the girl called out, weaving through the crowd, clearly already tipsy.

Y/N’s heart skipped. That step had brought her even closer to the kitchen. And now—

“Too late,” her friend grinned, gently pushing her. “You’re halfway there.”

Y/N turned around to glare, but her friend only shrugged. “You look hot tonight. Stop overthinking it.”

Y/N swallowed, nerves buzzing under her skin. She glanced down at herself—the fitted black tank top, the skirt that hit mid-thigh, the subtle gloss on her lips. Okay. She didn’t look terrible. But still.

Before she could chicken out, Mingyu pushed off the counter.

Y/N froze. He took a few steps forward, weaving through the party without breaking eye contact. Her stomach flipped.

“Hey,” he said, voice low but audible over the music. “You just get here?”

Oh god. His voice. That deep, smooth, slightly amused tone that made everything sound like a joke he was letting her in on.

“Uh—yeah,” she managed, heat flooding her cheeks again. “Just walked in.”

He smiled. “You looked kind of like a deer in headlights. Cute though.”

Y/N let out a soft, nervous laugh. “I was… trying to decide if the house was structurally sound. It’s shaking.”

Mingyu chuckled, tipping his head. “Fair. Pretty sure the upstairs bathroom’s already out of commission.”

“That’s not comforting.”

“Neither is the guy who just took a beer bong in the bathtub.”

Y/N laughed for real this time, and his smile widened like it had been waiting for that sound.

“I’m Mingyu, by the way,” he said, though he definitely didn’t need to.

“I know,” she blurted, then immediately wanted to slam her head into a wall. “I mean—I’ve seen you around. Econ.”

“I know,” he echoed, and the smirk returned. “You sit in the third row. Always take notes with colored pens.”

“You’ve noticed that?”

“Hard not to when you keep borrowing highlighters from me.”

Y/N blinked. “You remember that?”

Mingyu nodded. “I remember you.”

There was a beat of silence. Then two.

“You wanna grab a drink?” he asked, tilting his head toward the kitchen.

She hesitated, just for a second, then nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”

As they walked side by side, the crowd seemed to part a little. Or maybe it was just her pulse drowning everything else out. She glanced up at him, and he caught her looking again.

This time, he didn’t smirk. He just looked at her—calm, sure, a little curious.

And Y/N suddenly thought that maybe—just maybe—this night was going to change everything.

Soon, the friend group clustered in the living room, half-tipsy and buzzing with energy. Someone had turned the music down just enough that voices filled the space — overlapping, loud, laced with laughter. Someone else had dragged in extra chairs, but most people chose to settle onto cushions, the floor, or sprawled across each other like drunken dominos.

Y/N ended up sitting directly across from Mingyu.

The group didn’t seem to notice, too busy trying to argue over what game to play next. Elle had already taken off her heels, her feet tucked under her as she flopped sideways onto Soonyoung’s legs.Soonyoung, ever the dramatic, moaned in protest but didn’t move. Yoona passed around a half-full bottle of vodka like a sacrament. Chan was perched in the center of the group like a queen about to announce her decree.

Y/N curled her legs beneath her and accepted the red cup Elle handed her. Her fingers felt too warm around the plastic. Her skin buzzed. And she didn’t have to look up to know why.

Mingyu sat across from her, lounging with one elbow resting lazily on his bent knee, his other hand still loosely holding his cup. His dark eyes tracked across the room—but whenever they passed over her, they paused. And lingered.

He wasn’t smiling. Not like he usually did when he told loud jokes or teased Jae for being overly dramatic. No, tonight, Mingyu just watched. Quiet. Intense. His gaze didn’t waver when it landed on hers.

Y/N took a sip to ground herself, lips brushing the rim of her cup a little too slowly. She could still feel him looking. When she finally met his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitched. Barely. Like a secret only she was in on.

Across the room, Soonyoung nudged Seungkwan.

“Okay but someone better come up with a game before I start ranking all my exes from worst to absolutely-freaking-trash.”

“You already did that last week,” Seungkwan said, flipping an imaginary strand of hair over his shoulder. “You put Soobin below the guy who cheated on you and stole your oat milk.”

“Because Soobin has zero rhythm. Zero. That’s a crime on its own.”

Laughter rippled around the group, but Y/N barely registered it. Mingyu was still watching her — openly now. No more subtle glances.

She arched a brow at him over the rim of her cup, almost as if to ask What?

He tilted his head. You tell me, his eyes seemed to reply.

The whole room snapped back into focus when Elle clapped once, loud and attention-grabbing.

“Alright, babies,” she announced, clearly reveling in her chaos gremlin energy. “Truth or dare. Let’s do this.”

“Oh god, here we go,” Jae muttered, already burying his face in a throw pillow. “Elle’s drunk enough to start trauma-digging.”

“No trauma, I promise!” Elle said brightly. “Just lighthearted emotional destruction.”

Everyone groaned, laughed, cheered. Jihoon tossed an empty bottle into the center of the circle.

“Who even suggested this?” Chan asked, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaning back on his palms.

“I think it was me,” Joshua shrugged. “But, like, ironically.”

“Nothing’s ever ironic with you,” Mingyu said, his voice a low rumble that sent goosebumps down Y/N’s arms. It was the first time he’d spoken in a while.

Everyone turned to look at him. Elle raised an eyebrow.

“Wow. Look who finally speaks.”

“I was enjoying the show,” he said simply, but his eyes hadn’t left Y/N.

She flushed under the weight of it.

The group noise swelled again — teasing, laughing — but to Y/N, it all felt distant. The tension between them hummed like an invisible thread pulled taut between where they sat.

She tried to look away. She really did.

But the thing about Mingyu was that he never made it easy to escape. He didn’t do anything — didn’t speak again, didn’t smile, didn’t lean forward — but somehow, he still managed to feel like gravity.

The bottle spun once. Loud whoops followed. It hadn’t landed on either of them, but Mingyu barely glanced away.

Neither did Y/N.

Because while the group dissolved into dares and truths and confessions that drew gasps and groans — the real game, at least for now, was the one being played in silence.

Just eyes. Just him and her.

And a tension so thick it practically crackled in the air between them.

A few rounds in, the game had completely unraveled into the kind of glorious chaos only semi-drunk college students could create. Laughter echoed through the living room, drinks were half-finished or completely forgotten, and the air practically shimmered with the energy of too many confessions, too much heat, and no boundaries.

Y/N shifted slightly where she sat, her legs curled under her. Across the circle, Mingyu leaned back on one arm, fingers lazily tapping his knee. Every time she laughed at something someone said, she could feel his eyes flick back to her. And every time she glanced up—he was already looking.

His gaze didn’t move. He didn’t smile. He just watched her. Like he was waiting.

“Okay, okay,” Elle shouted over the noise, holding the bottle aloft. “Back to the game or I swear I’ll start asking real questions.”

That sobered them up a little.

“Alright,” she said, spinning the bottle dramatically. It clinked over the hardwood before landing on Jae.

He raised his hands like a guilty man surrendering.

“Let’s get it over with.”

“Dare,” Elle smirked.

He groaned, already dreading it.

“I dare you to give someone in this circle a lap dance.”

Laughter exploded instantly. Soonyoung nearly fell over. Seungkwan started drumming a rhythm on his cup like it was a strip club beat.

“You people are unwell,” Jae said, standing up anyway.

“Choose someone!” Elle grinned, clapping her hands.

Jae looked around dramatically, then sighed.

“Seungkwan, I hope you’re ready for the worst thirty seconds of your life.”

“Oh honey,” Seungkwan said, fanning himself. “Make me regret this.”

And he did. The performance was tragic, all exaggerated hip rolls and fake body rolls. The room was in hysterics by the time he collapsed back into his spot.

“Okay, okay,” Seungkwan said breathlessly, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

“My turn.”

The bottle landed on Yoona.

“Truth,” Yoona said smoothly.

“Who would you sleep with in this room if no one ever found out?”

Dead silence.

Everyone sat up a little straighter.

Yoona didn’t blink.

“Mingyu.”

That got reactions. Whoops, cheers, and one very dramatic gasp from Jae.

Y/N’s throat tightened. She didn’t even realize she’d tensed until she caught Mingyu out of the corner of her eye. He didn’t even react — just sipped his drink, eyes flicking briefly to Y/N, unreadable.

Elle was already laughing.

“Okayyy, spicy! Let’s keep it going.”

Next spin. It landed on Jihoon.

“Dare,” Jihoon said, ready for blood.

Soonyoung grinned.

“Kiss the person you’d never admit you had a thing for.”

The room tensed.

Jihoon stood, walked right past Chan and Joshua — and kissed Elle.

It wasn’t dramatic or showy. Just a quick, firm kiss that left Elle blinking and the entire group losing their minds.

“You are not okay,” Elle said, cheeks flushed.

“I’m very okay,” Jihoon smirked, sitting down again like he hadn’t just shifted the entire friend group dynamic.

“Alright,” Elle breathed, grinning like a devil. “Y/N.”

The bottle had landed on her, of course. All eyes turned.

Y/N blinked slowly. “Dare.”

Elle didn’t hesitate. “I dare you to play Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

That drew a chorus of “ooooh”s, a few dramatic gasps, and someone (probably Jae) whisper-yelling “IT’S HAPPENING.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

Elle’s grin deepened. “With… Mingyu.”

Dead. Silence.

Someone dropped their cup. Jae let out a long, drawn-out, “Holy. Shit.”

Y/N’s heart beat loud in her ears.

Across the circle, Mingyu looked… unaffected. His drink rested in his hand, the silver chain at his throat catching the light. He didn’t say anything. Just looked at her.

She cleared her throat. “Maybe that’s not fair. Like, what if he’s uncomfortable—”

“I’m not,” Mingyu said, voice low.

She blinked. “Oh.”

“I’m game if you are.”

Elle squealed. “OH. My god. Up. Now.”

“I hate you,” Y/N muttered, but Elle was already grabbing her by the wrist.

Mingyu stood slowly, every movement unhurried, smooth. He brushed past a few pillows and offered no defense. No jokes. He didn’t look embarrassed. Didn’t look cocky either.

He looked like a man who’d been waiting for this moment.

Jae shouted from the back, “Use protection!”

Yoona added, “Use your time wisely!”

“Make it worth it!” Hana yelled, raising her cup like it was a wedding toast.

Y/N wanted the floor to swallow her.

Elle ignored all of it. She had Y/N in one hand, Mingyu in the other, leading them down the dim hallway like a proud matchmaker.

As they passed the rest of the group, Yoona shouted, “SEVEN MINUTES—NOT A SECOND LESS!”

Elle pushed open the second door on the right with her hip and turned toward them with a wicked grin.

“Enjoy yourselves,” she said, backing away slowly. “We’ll be listening.”

Then she closed the door behind them.

Click.

“Have fun, lovebirds!” Elle shouted through the door, her voice muffled but smug.

The latch clicked shut. The sound echoed louder than it should’ve.

And then—silence.

The kind that wrapped around you like smoke.

Y/N didn’t move. Neither did he. The soft hum of bass-heavy music seeped through the walls, but inside the dim room, it felt like they were miles away from everything. Just the two of them. Her heart was hammering in her chest, but she forced herself to breathe slowly. To look casual.

Across the room, Mingyu stood with his hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed, like this wasn’t completely insane. Like he hadn’t just agreed to seven uninterrupted minutes alone with her in front of all their friends.

He tilted his head slightly. “So… this is happening.”

She shrugged, arms crossed over her chest. “Looks like it.”

The corners of his mouth curled, slow and lazy. That damn smirk. It always said more than words. “Nervous?”

“Should I be?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you’ve been thinking about this as much as I have.”

Y/N froze.

The words hung between them, weighty and soft all at once.

“You’ve been staring at me all night,” he added, voice dipping lower. “You probably thought I didn’t notice.”

She gave a short laugh. “Please. You were staring first.”

He didn’t deny it. “Maybe.”

She took a slow step forward, chin tilted. “You’re cocky.”

He didn’t flinch. Just raised a brow. “You like it.”

She pretended to consider it. “Mmm. I like watching you think I have no idea how hot you are.”

His laugh was low and genuine. “You think I don’t know?”

“I think you really like being the center of attention.”

“I wasn’t looking for attention.” He paused. “Just yours.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat.

There was something dangerous about the way he was looking at her��like she was both a mystery he’d already solved and a secret he couldn’t wait to open.

Her pulse quickened. She hated how warm she felt under his stare. How every inch of him seemed like it had been made to drive her insane. That chain at his collarbone. The black shirt that clung just right. The calm in his voice like he knew he had her off-balance.

“So what are we supposed to do in here?” she asked, lightly, like she didn’t already feel like combusting.

Mingyu took a step closer. Just one. But it was enough.

His gaze dropped to her lips for the briefest second before returning to her eyes. “Anything we want.”

Her stomach flipped.

“You talk like you’ve thought about this.”

“I have.”

She blinked.

“I’ve thought about what your mouth tastes like when you smile like that,” he murmured. “What you’d sound like if I kissed you right.”

Y/N’s breath caught.

“And?” she said, voice thin.

“And I’m kind of dying to find out.”

The heat spread down her neck, goosebumps prickling along her skin. She told herself to stay cool, to tease him, but he was already undoing her with just his words.

Still, she lifted her chin, letting her voice come out playfully — if slightly shaky. “Then I dare you,” she said softly, “to kiss me.”

A slow grin stretched across Mingyu’s lips. “Finally,” he murmured.

Then he stepped forward and kissed her.

Not soft. Not tentative.

It was the kind of kiss that came after too many nights of almosts. Of eyes meeting across parties and flirty inside jokes, of hands brushing accidentally-on-purpose, of imagining it a hundred different ways.

His hands found her waist like they belonged there. Her fingers fisted into his shirt, tugging him closer without thinking.

The kiss deepened — hot and needy, tasting like all the tension they’d tried to brush off.

She gasped against his mouth as he guided her back, her shoulder blades pressing gently against the wall. He kissed her like he’d been holding back. Like the last straw had snapped the moment that door shut.

His lips moved down to her jaw, then just below her ear, and she sucked in a breath, fingers tightening in his shirt.

“Mingyu,” she whispered.

He didn’t stop.

“Say that again,” he murmured, lips brushing her skin.

She shivered.

“You think I’ve been staring all night?” he whispered, voice ragged now. “You have no idea.”

Her fingers slid up into his hair, pulling slightly. His groan was low — and it only made her pull again.

“I liked it,” he added, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. “I liked watching you try not to look at me.”

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered.

“Tell me to stop.”

She didn’t.

Instead, she kissed him again.

This one was slower. Less rushed. More dangerous.

Because it felt like it meant something.

Like it was the start of something that couldn’t be undone.

His hands slid under the hem of her top — not to push, just to feel. Her skin was hot. His touch was cooler than she expected. Her head was spinning and she didn’t care.

They kissed like they’d waited too long for this. Like they were trying to make up for every second wasted.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembered the timer. The fact that in a few minutes, someone was going to knock or yell or open the door, and this spell would break. But for now…

Mingyu kissed her again — slower this time, like he had all the time in the world.

She kissed him back like they didn’t.

Like seven minutes wasn’t nearly enough.

She had seven minutes.And right now, every single second was on fire.

Mingyu’s breath was fire against her skin, every exhale like a secret whispered directly to her pulse. His hands were already at her sides, firm, confident, sliding lower with maddening slowness until they gripped her hips. He pressed her fully against the wall, one thigh slipping between hers like it belonged there.

“You’re mine for the next seven minutes,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous, the kind of tone that curled around her spine and made her stomach drop. “And I intend to make every second count.”

Y/N’s breath came in short, sharp bursts, her back arching slightly into him. She could feel the heat rolling off his body, his presence caging her in without ever feeling suffocating. No, it was addictive. Too much, not enough, all at once.

She turned her head slightly, enough to glance at him over her shoulder. Her voice was shaky, but it held a thread of defiance. “Cocky.”

Mingyu’s lips grazed the shell of her ear. “Not cocky. Certain.”

She shivered. “Of what?”

“That you want this just as much as I do.” His mouth brushed her earlobe. “Maybe more.”

She exhaled sharply, heart pounding. “You think you know everything.”

His hands slipped up, fingers tracing the curves of her waist, thumbs pressing into the small of her back. “No,” he said, voice soft and deliberate. “But I know this.”

He leaned in, slowly, until his body was flush against hers, chest to back, heat to heat. His thigh pressed more firmly between hers, nudging her legs apart. Her breath hitched.

“You’ve been driving me insane for weeks,” he continued. “Those looks? The way you bite your lip and act like you don’t notice me watching you? Every time you laugh and glance away like I don’t see it.”

His mouth dipped lower, trailing along her neck. She gasped when his teeth grazed skin, light but deliberate.

“You knew this was coming,” he said, lips brushing her pulse point now. “Didn’t you?”

She swallowed hard. Her voice came out rough. “Maybe.”

He chuckled, low and dark. “No maybe about it.”

Then he turned her.

In one fluid motion, he spun her gently but firmly, pressing her back to the wall this time. His eyes swept over her face, lingering at her lips, dark with hunger and tension and something deeper—curiosity, maybe. Like he was memorizing her in real time.

“I’ve thought about this,” he admitted, his hands settling on her thighs. “What you’d look like like this. All flushed, breathless. Mine.”

“You act like you already own me,” she whispered.

Mingyu’s lips brushed hers without fully kissing her. “Don’t I?”

Y/N stared at him, heart thudding violently. Her hands fisted into his shirt. “Prove it.”

He smirked, the tension between them sparking like static.

Then he dropped his head and kissed her—really kissed her.

It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t careful.

It was full of pent-up tension, slow-burning frustration, and raw, hungry want. He kissed her like he was starving and she was the only thing he’d ever craved. Her body melted into his, hands tangling in his hair as she kissed him back, matching his intensity beat for beat.

When they broke apart, both breathless, he rested his forehead against hers.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured.

“Then stop talking,” she whispered, “and do something about it.”

A growl built in his throat as he dropped to his knees in front of her. She gasped, her hand flying to his shoulder for balance as he ran his hands up her legs, slow and reverent. Her skirt hitched up easily under his touch, the air cool against her skin.

“This—” he said, gripping her thigh firmly and lifting it over his shoulder, “—is dangerous.”

Her breathing was shallow now, hands in his hair, thighs tightening around him.

His lips grazed the inside of her thigh, trailing kisses that made her legs shake. “You’re shaking,” he whispered, almost teasing.

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re irresistible.”

He rose again suddenly, gripping her wrists and pinning them gently above her head. The movement was smooth, practiced. Her breath caught at the shift, the way his body fully claimed hers without crossing any lines—he was in control, but only because she let him.

Their eyes locked. “Say the word,” he whispered. “Tell me you want this too.”

Y/N stared up at him, chest heaving. Then, in a voice that was all fire and surrender, she said, “I want this.”

He kissed her again—deeper this time, hungrier, his body pressing hers harder into the wall. One hand slid down to her hip, the other slipping between her thighs, slow and purposeful. His fingers hooked into her panties, dragging them down in agonizing, teasing inches.

“Look at you,” he whispered, his voice a low growl. “So wet already. For me.”

Her head fell back against the wall, a sound leaving her lips that was equal parts surprise and pleasure as his fingers teased her slick heat.

“Touch me,” she begged, voice barely audible.

He lifted his head, eyes dark. “Like this?” he murmured, running a finger between her folds—soft, slow, then with pressure that made her cry out softly.

Her hips rolled into his hand instinctively.

“God, you’re perfect,” he said, kissing her jaw, her throat. “All of this? Mine. Tonight.”

You shiver. Then—one finger. Then two. Sliding in, curling, stroking.

Your hips jerk instinctively, breath catching as he finds that perfect spot too easily, like he’s memorized you already. His touch is confident—devastating. Each movement is deliberate. Calculated.

Your legs tremble, muscles tightening as your head falls back against the wall. Mingyu’s free hand wraps firmly around your waist, anchoring you in place, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

“You feel that?” he murmurs against your neck, voice rich and low, the sound alone enough to make you ache. “How your body reacts to me?”

You manage the softest sound—half gasp, half whimper—and it only seems to spur him on.

“I’m going to make you cum like this first,” he whispers, lips brushing the sensitive skin just below your ear. “Then I’m going to fuck you—slow, deep, until you’re gasping my name.”

Your breath stutters, caught in your throat. You try to speak, to say something, but nothing comes out. Just the broken sound of want.

He chuckles, low and rough, the sound vibrating through your chest. “You like being teased, don’t you?”

You nod, just barely. It’s all you can manage. Your hands clutch the front of his shirt, wrinkling the fabric as your knees threaten to give out beneath you.

“Good,” he says, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, slow and hot. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

Then it hits.

You come hard on his fingers, your body arching off the wall, a sharp gasp ripping from your lips as everything inside you clenche around him. Your vision blurs. Legs shake. And Mingyu just watches. Watch you fall apart for him, wearing that same maddening smirk he’s had all night—the one that says he knew this would happen from the second you walked into the room.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, withdrawing his fingers with slow, teasing precision. He holds your gaze as he lifts them to his lips and sucks one clean. “Knew you’d be like this.”

You’re still catching your breath, still blinking through the haze of your high, when his fingers move to the button of his jeans. One flick. Then the zipper. And he pushes them down just far enough—just enough to make your breath hitch again.

He’s already hard. Already waiting.

“Still quiet?” he asks, his voice velvet over steel.

You find your voice—barely. “Trying to figure out what’s bigger—your ego, or…”

His smirk sharpens. “You’ll find out.”

“Seven minutes,” he said, eyes dark with challenge. “Let’s see how many times I can make you fall apart before time’s up.” You smirked, breathless but bold. “You talk a big game, Mingyu.” He grabbed your waist and spun you around, guiding you onto the bed with a cocky laugh. “You started it, sweetheart.”

You let him position you, his grip strong on your thighs, spreading you open beneath him like he’d dreamed of doing it a hundred times. He hovered just above, his mouth a breath away from yours, eyes flicking over your flushed face, your parted lips.

“You think you’re the first guy to say that?” you said, a breathy taunt, even as your chest heaved.

He stilled for half a second. Then a slow grin curled across his face—dangerous and devastating.

“No,” he muttered, voice low as sin, “but I’ll be the one you remember.”

And then he pushed in—slow, deep, devastating and he was inside you

Your mouth fell open in a gasp soundless moan, back arching, a breathy curse escaping you. The stretch made your thighs quiver, a delicious ache settling deep in your belly.

“Fuck,” you breathed. “Okay… point proven.”

Mingyu leaned down, lips brushing your ear, his voice thick and rough. “That’s it? No more snark?”

You wrapped your legs around his waist and dragged your nails lightly down his back, breath hitching. “Didn’t want to throw you off your game. I assumed you needed quiet to focus.”

He growled a laugh—deep, low, and full of heat. “You think this is me focusing?”

His hips rolled harder, pushing deeper, and your breath stuttered. You moaned loudly and answer

“You’re cocky,” you murmured, lips brushing his jaw.

“You love it,” he fired back, thrusting again.

Your body rocked with him, the friction building like fire beneath your skin. “I like watching you try to impress me.”

“I like watching you fall apart,” he rasped, grinding his hips in a way that made your toes curl.

He dipped his head to your neck, dragging his lips along your pulse, where it beat wild and fast. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His hand slid up your side, fingertips skimming just under your top, and when your hips met his in rhythm, his breath caught.

“You’ve got…” you smirked against his skin, voice breathless, “like five minutes left.”

He rolled his hips, angled just right, and you moaned again—louder. “Then I better make it count,” he said, watching you come undone beneath him. “Say my name.” You bit your lip. “Make me.” His eyes flashed, and he grinned like he was about to ruin you—in the best possible way.

He grabs your hips and snaps into you harder. “Fuck, the way you squeeze around me—like you were made for this.”

You throw your head back against the pillow, a moan slipping past your lips before you can stop it.He leans down, lips ghosting over your jaw. “Look at you,” he whispers. “So cocky earlier. Now you’re moaning like you need me.”

Your eyes meet his, blazing. “I do need you,” you pant, voice breathless but challenging.

“Just not sure you can finish the job in time.” That lights something in him. “Oh, baby,” Mingyu laughs darkly, “I’m going to ruin you in four minutes flat.” He lifts one of your legs onto his shoulder and thrusts deeper—hard, rhythmic, relentless.

“Feel that?” he rasps. “That’s me splitting you open. Taking what’s mine.” You claw at his back, eyes fluttering shut. “Harder.” He obeys instantly. You moan out aloud

“You like being used like this, don’t you?Like the slut you are” he groans. “You like me fucking you full in some random bedroom while our friends wait outside?”

“Say it,” he demanded, voice low and commanding, as his hand slid to your jaw, tilting your face toward his. “I want to hear from you.”

“Yes,” you moan, voice wrecked. “You’re dripping for me,” he snarls against your throat. “So damn wet—like your body knew what was coming the second we walked in here.” as he grabs your breast, squeezing firmly as his thrusts grow harder, rougher—each movement making your body jolt beneath him

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging hard enough to draw a growl from deep in his throat. His lips brush over your neck, your collarbone, anywhere he can reach as you arch into him.

“Shut up and make me cum again,” you snap, breathless but cocky, the edge in your voice sharp despite how wrecked you already feel.

His breath stutters, the challenge lighting something feral in his eyes. “Oh, I will,” he murmurs, voice rough and low, like it’s scraping from somewhere deep inside him. “But you’re not walking out of here without begging for it first.”

The arrogance in his tone makes heat bloom low in your stomach. “Then make me beg, Mingyu. If you think you’ve earned it.”

That did it. His jaw clenched, a low growl vibrating from his chest as his hips snapped forward, rough and unrelenting. The pace shifted—no longer slow and teasing, but fierce, almost punishing.

“I’ll fuck you until you forget your name,” he ground out, breath hot against your skin.

Your breath stuttered, caught between a gasp and a moan, pleasure blooming in your veins. “I’ll scream yours instead.”

“Good,” he hissed, leaning in until your foreheads touched, his eyes dark and focused entirely on you. “Because that’s all I want to hear for the next—” he threw a glance at the door, sweat glistening at his temple, “—two minutes.”

You bit your lip, heart hammering. Every nerve ending was lit up, your body thrumming under his touch, his weight, his voice. “Then what are you waiting for?”

“You’re going to remember this,” he growled, one hand tangling in your hair, the other gripping your waist tight. “Every time you try to flirt with someone else.”

You opened your mouth, ready to fire back, but all that came out was a strangled moan as his hips snapped forward again, perfectly timed, perfectly cruel.

He smiled into your neck. “That’s what I thought.”

His grin spread slow and dangerous, that same wicked fire gleaming in his eyes—the one he’d had the second he saw you across the room. The one that said he’d been waiting for this just as long as you had.

He adjusted his grip on your hips, grounding you harder beneath him as he picked up the rhythm again, his breath ragged now too. Your head fell back against the pillows, the only thing anchoring you to the moment was the sound of his skin against yours, your breathing tangled, bodies moving like they’d done this a thousand times in their heads.

Everything outside that room ceased to exist.

“For you,” he says, voice rough and low, thrusting even deeper. “To break.”

Your nails raked down his chest, dragging over every slick line of muscle. His shirt had vanished somewhere in the chaos, and now your hands were greedy — exploring the sweat-slick heat of his body, the flex of his abs each time he drove into you with bruising force.

He was all tension and power above you, and still, you couldn’t stop touching him — couldn’t get enough of the way his skin burned under your fingertips, or the way his breath stuttered when you reached lower, gripping his hips to pull him even closer.

“God, you feel so good,” you moaned, head falling back, voice unraveling. “So fucking perfect—everywhere.”

He groaned at that, the sound ripped from somewhere deep in his chest. His rhythm faltered for just a second — then returned, harder, more urgent. His hands held you tighter now, like he needed to keep you grounded or he might fall apart himself.

“You like touching me that much?” he rasped, his voice frayed, wrecked in the best way.

You nodded, unable to find words at first, just your lips parting in a gasp as you looked up at him. “Can’t help it,” you whispered, chest rising and falling fast. “You look like sin and feel like heaven.”

That earned a breathless laugh from him, barely more than a puff of air before it twisted into a moan as your body clenched around him, heat pulsing. You were close—so close it hurt.

“I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, fingers digging into his back as your body arched toward him. “Fuck—Mingyu, I’m gonna—”

His mouth was on your neck in an instant, lips dragging hot along your skin, hips snapping into yours with relentless rhythm. “Then cum for me,” he growled, one hand sliding to your thigh, gripping it like a lifeline. “Let go. Right here. On me.”

His pace never broke, even as your body began to tremble. The sounds between you grew louder—breaths, gasps, the distant thump of music outside forgotten as you shattered beneath him. And he held you through every second of it, like he’d been waiting to watch you fall apart just for him.

You choked out his name, legs tightening around him as your body shook again, the orgasm hitting hard and fast — blinding. But he didn’t stop.

“Fuck,” he hissed, voice breaking. “I’m close—fuck, I’m gonna cum.” You barely had time to respond before he said it — low, desperate, possessive: “I’m gonna cum inside.”

Your eyes snapped open, heart thudding. His grip tightened on your waist. “I’m not leaving,” he said through clenched teeth, thrusts getting sloppy, erratic.

“Not until I’m buried so deep inside you, you’ll feel me even after I’m gone.” You moaned in response, dizzy from everything — the heat, his words, the overwhelming pleasure.

“You want that?” he asked, voice ragged. “You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes—fuck, yes.”

“Then take it like the fucking cum desperate whore you are” he growled

His head dropped to your shoulder as he groaned your name, hips jerking once, twice, and then he stilled — body trembling as he spilled into you, breath catching in his throat.

A soft, broken sound escaped him — somewhere between a moan and a gasp — as he held you tighter, like letting go would unravel him completely. Your fingers dug into his back, desperate to anchor yourself, to feel every pulse of him, every wave of heat.

Silence settled between you for a second. Heavy. Intimate. Charged.

His skin was damp against yours, chest heaving, heart racing. You could feel it — the aftershocks in his body, the quiet vulnerability in the way he stayed pressed against you, unmoving.

Neither of you spoke.

There was nothing to say — not yet. Only breath. Only heat.

His hand slid up your spine slowly, deliberately, until it cradled the back of your neck. “Fuck,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “You drive me insane.”

And then, just beyond the door, someone called out:

“Time’s up!”

You both froze, breath tangled, bodies still pressed too close, the heat between you crackling like static. His forehead rested against yours, both of you panting, wrecked.

Mingyu grinned first — wild, breathless, his lips kiss-bruised and eyes still dark with want.

“Shame,” he muttered, cocking his head like he already missed your body. “I was just getting started.”

The door creaked open, and he stepped out first, running a hand through his mess of hair, his shirt buttoned in all the wrong places. He didn’t even bother pretending — just walked out like he owned the room and everything that happened in it. Like he’d just walked off a victory stage.

You followed a few seconds later, skirt tugged hastily down, fingers still trembling. Every nerve in your body felt overstimulated, your lips swollen, thighs shaky. You could feel it — the evidence of him, of what he’d done to you — with every single step.

Elle stood outside, arms crossed and smirking like she’d just won a bet.

“So,” she said, drawing the word out, eyes flicking between you and Mingyu. “Did you two… have a good chat?”

Mingyu shot her a wink, smug as ever.

“Productive.”

You glared at her, trying not to trip over your own damn legs or give away just how thoroughly ruined you were.

“Elle, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” She looped her arm through yours with way too much glee. “You’re glowing. Like, post-orgasm glowing.”

Your jaw dropped.

“Elle!”

Behind you, Mingyu chuckled — deep, amused, far too satisfied with himself.

“She’s not wrong.”

You turned sharply, cheeks burning, and gave him a look meant to kill.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

He didn’t miss a beat. Took one step closer, leaned down until his lips brushed the shell of your ear. His voice was low — all silk and sin.

“I enjoyed you, baby. That’s different.”

Your breath caught.

Goddamn him.

Your body still responded to him like it hadn’t just spent the last seven minutes being kissed senseless, touched like worship, fucked like a secret. Your skin prickled under his gaze, your knees still not fully recovered.

And worse? He knew.

His smirk deepened as he straightened, eyes trailing lazily down your body like he could still feel you under his fingertips.

“See you out there.” He turned and walked away — swagger in every step.

Elle whistled low under her breath.

“You know what’s worse than watching you fall for him?” she muttered. “Watching you pretend you’re not.”

You didn’t answer.

Because you weren’t ready to admit she was right.

Not yet.

But god — the ache between your thighs and the way your heart raced at the thought of round two said it all.

You and Elle walked ahead, arm in arm, though she was doing most of the walking — you were still recovering, legs wobbly and traitorous beneath you.

From behind, you could feel Mingyu’s eyes on you. That lazy heat that made your skin tingle like you were still in that closet, still pressed against the wall, still moaning his name with his hand over your mouth. You hated how easily he lingered — in your mind, on your skin, in your pulse.

“Stop thinking about it,” Elle whispered, nudging you.

You blinked. “I’m not.”

She raised a brow. “Your pupils are dilated, your thighs are clenched, and you’ve got that ‘I’ve just been devoured alive’ look. Babe. Please.”

Before you could shoot back something clever, you reached the group — gathered around the back patio, drinks in hand, mid-laugh. And the second they spotted you and Mingyu trailing behind like you hadn’t just committed multiple sins in a dark room — the grins started forming.

“Well, well, well,” Jihoon said, holding up his drink like a toast. “If it isn’t Mr. and Mrs. Closet.”

“Took you long enough,” Seungkwan added, eyes dancing. “We thought maybe you’d moved in there permanently.”

“Should we decorate it for them?” Hana chimed in sweetly, swirling her drink. “Maybe add a little bed, a snack drawer… mood lighting?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to downplay the heat in your face.

“It was seven minutes. Not a lifetime.”

“Seven legendary minutes, apparently,” Soonyoung said, hand to his chest like he was personally affected. “Elle said you came out glowing like a Twilight vampire.”

You turned to Elle, horrified.

“You’re the devil.”

“A supportive devil,” she said brightly. “I’m just proud.”

Yoona raised her glass in your direction. “Honestly? Good for you. Closet sex? Bold. Iconic. Unstable, but iconic.”

Mingyu finally joined you, sliding into the circle like he hadn’t just wrecked you against a supply closet door. Hair still a mess. Shirt still barely together. Confidence radiating off him like second nature.

He took one look around, then grinned.

“Miss me?”

“You didn’t even fix your shirt, bro,” Chan pointed out.

“Didn’t have time,” Mingyu said with a shrug, not even trying to act humble. He looked at you.

“Some of us were busy.”

Groans and laughter erupted. Someone — probably Joshua — fake-gagged.

“God, you’re insufferable,” you muttered under your breath.

Mingyu leaned closer, voice just low enough for you to hear.

“You didn’t think that when you were begging me to go slower.”

Your eyes widened.

“Mingyu—”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t tease,” he said, smirking.

You turned sharply, grabbing the nearest cup of something — anything — to cool your face, your heart, your entire existence.

And then you heard Soonyoung yell,

“Let’s take a shot for the happy couple!”

“We’re not a couple!” you and Mingyu said at the same time.

The group just laughed harder.

“Sure,” Jihoon deadpanned. “You’re just two friends who happened to have the most sexually charged game of Seven Minutes in Heaven we’ve ever witnessed.”

“I mean,” Yoona added with a grin, “they walked out looking like a deleted scene from a very explicit K-drama.”

“I’d watch that show,” Hana nodded seriously. “Season one finale: supply closet confessionals.”

You groaned. Mingyu wrapped an arm casually around your waist — for show, you told yourself. Just for show.

But the way his thumb stroked your hip? That wasn’t just anything.

Neither was the way he leaned down again, voice soft and smug.

“Round two later?”

And the worst part?

You didn’t even hesitate before whispering back:

“Yes.”

Hey tumblr 💗!

This one’s a Seventeen one-shot featuring none other than Mingyu—because let’s be real, he’s perfect for college AU smut, and I couldn’t resist. 😏

Originally, I did plan on turning this into a series, but honestly? I just wanted to get this story out of my head and into your hands. So here it is—messy, hot, and unapologetically smutty.

Feel free to drop any thoughts, suggestions, or thirst-fueled questions in the ask box. I love hearing from you!

As always, reblogs, comments, and virtual kisses keep me going 💋 Thank you so much for reading 🥰❤️

With love,

xo, Ario

1K notes · View notes

palevcr · 2 months ago

Note

hey!

first of all the fred fic was a pure masterpiece. i really your writing style. i was wondering could you do nsfw piece but with both twins. only if youre comfortable with it.

thank you so much. hope you have a great day!

FUCK YEAH HELLO???? I AM A PROUD GOONETTE OF COURSE I WILL ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY DO THIS LETS GO

WRONG TWIN LOVE

she never meant to fuck both weasley twins. it just happened—the wrong name in the dark, a hungry mouth that didn’t care, hands that knew her body too well to stop. maybe it was curiosity. maybe it was madness. maybe it was the way they looked at her like she was a game they’d both already won. but when fred moaned her name with george still buried inside her, she stopped pretending. it wasn’t a mistake. it was a surrender. and maybe—just maybe—she wanted to be theirs.

pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley

genre: smut, twin!fic, taboo tension, emotionally charged threesome

tw: MDNI 18+, explicit sexual content, mistaken identity, consensual threesome, blurred emotional lines, voyeurism/exhibitionism, possessiveness, twin dynamics, praise/degradation, overstimulation, soft roughness

To put it bluntly, dating one half of a pair of identical twins was hardly a straightforward experience. In fact, it was maddeningly complicated. Y/N quickly learned that without some kind of distinguishing marker—like the infamous “F” stitched into Fred’s threadbare sweater—she had no hope of telling her boyfriend apart from his brother. It had become something of a running joke between the three of them, though it wasn’t always so funny in practice. There had been more than a handful of painfully awkward moments: leaning in to kiss Fred only to hear George's startled cough, or—Merlin help her—the time she’d waltzed into the room half-naked, mistaking George’s broad-shouldered silhouette for that of her boyfriend, only for him to choke on his tea and mutter, a flush rising to his cheeks, “Wrong twin, love.”

It was mortifying. And worse, it had happened more than once.

Frankly, she suspected there were other slip-ups she hadn’t even been made aware of—occasions where George, either too stunned or too amused, hadn’t bothered to correct her. Which, if she were being honest, was kind of a dick move. But could she really blame him? If a gorgeous girl mistook you for your twin and ended up perched on your lap, shifting just enough to make your mind go blank, would you really stop her? Especially when your twin—the rightful boyfriend—just watched from across the room, hiding a grin behind the pages of some worn-out book, clearly far too entertained by the whole thing to intervene.

They didn’t seem to mind the sharing. That was the most dangerous part.

The Gryffindor dormitory was quiet that evening, golden light spilling across the floorboards through the tall, arched windows. George strolled in casually, peeling off his Quidditch gear and tossing it in a pile with practiced carelessness. Fred followed close behind, already unbuttoning his sweat-dampened shirt. “I’m showering first,” he declared, grabbing a towel from his trunk. “You always use up the hot water doing Merlin-knows-what in there.”

George just laughed, sprawling out across Fred’s bed instead of his own. The sheets were warmer, softer, smelled vaguely of cloves and mischief. He closed his eyes, letting the distant sounds of owls outside lull him into something near sleep, the muted hiss of the running shower filling the room like white noise.

He was half-dozing when he felt the shift of weight on the bed—a warm, familiar weight settling directly on top of him. His brows twitched, eyes cracking open just enough to glimpse her—Y/N, straddling his hips, her thighs snug against his sides, the scent of her shampoo unmistakable as it hit him all at once.

“What are you doing?” George asked, voice thick with sleep, low and bemused. He made no move to push her off. No flustered apologies. No immediate correction. None of the usual “Wrong twin, love.”

Instead, he slid his large hands along the curves of her waist, thumbs pressing into the soft dips of her hips, adjusting her until her clothed heat was nestled right against the rigid outline of his growing arousal.

Y/N just smiled, oblivious, lowering herself purposefully with a slow roll of her hips that made him exhale sharply, eyes fluttering closed. “Can’t I visit my boyfriend?” she purred, voice honey-sweet, laced with playfulness.

She must’ve thought he was Fred. That he’d simply fallen asleep in his own bed, in his own scent, in the space that she had come to associate with her lover.

George let out a low hum, his head sinking back into the pillows as she shifted above him, her every movement eliciting a subtle twitch beneath her. He should’ve said something. Should’ve stopped this. Should’ve told her.

But he didn’t.

When she leaned down to kiss him, he parted his lips without hesitation, meeting her mouth with unhurried, languid hunger, his fingers tightening slightly on her hips. The kiss deepened—slow, searching, toeing the line between guilt and indulgence—as if he hadn’t a care in the world that she thought she was kissing someone else. As if he hadn’t just taken his twin brother’s place, willingly, silently.

And far worse: as if he liked it.

George’s mouth still lingered against hers as he gently rolled them over, reversing their positions with a quiet, effortless dominance. The mattress dipped beneath his weight, their bodies adjusting with natural rhythm as he settled above her. He kissed her again—deeper this time, slower, as though savoring every second her lips stayed on his, every breath exchanged. His hand slid down her side, fingers brushing over the soft curve of her waist before gliding upward, cupping her breast through the thin fabric of her shirt. He paused, registering the absence of a bra beneath the cotton, and huffed a low, amused breath against her lips.

“No bra?” he murmured, voice teasing and warm. His nose nudged hers. “Really, love?”

She giggled softly, a breathy sound that vibrated against his mouth, her nails curling into the back of his neck. “You told me not to wear one,” she reminded him, playfully indignant, her voice dipping into something sultry. “Said you get annoyed with the clasp sometimes.”

George let out a quiet laugh that rumbled in his chest, burying his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of her skin—sweet, warm, maddeningly familiar. Another little detail to stow away, another piece of her that didn’t belong to him but was so willingly offered all the same.

“Right,” he muttered into her skin, lips brushing against the sensitive spot just beneath her jaw. “Yeah. Forgot about that.”

His hips slid into place between her thighs with unhurried precision, aligning his body with hers like puzzle pieces clicking into place. She was already squirming beneath him, her breath hitching when he rolled his hips down, pressing the rigid heat of his cock against her clothed center. He kept one hand on her breast, palming her leisurely, thumbing over her already-stiffened nipple with deliberate flicks that made her back arch off the mattress, her lips parting with a soft gasp.

“You’re feeling patient today,” she whispered against his cheek, voice low, teasing. Her hips lifted to meet his in a slow grind. “You’re usually balls deep in me by now.”

He smiled, slow and wicked, and kissed the corner of her mouth before pulling back just enough to look down at her. There was something almost reverent in his gaze as he pushed her shirt up, revealing her chest inch by inch, until her breasts were bare to the cool air and his hungry eyes. He drew in a breath, letting it out through his nose like he was grounding himself, then leaned down, lips brushing across her nipple in a barely-there touch.

“I feel like taking my time,” he murmured, and the words reverberated against her skin just before his mouth closed over her breast, sucking softly, tongue flicking against the sensitive peak while his hand kneaded the other with practiced finesse.

Her fingers found his hair, tangling in the ginger strands as a soft moan escaped her lips. He smiled against her, then nipped lightly, enough to make her twitch and gasp again. He wanted to memorize every sound she made, every twitch of her body, every way she melted beneath his touch—even if, in the end, none of this was meant for him.

But right now, she was here. Beneath him. Writhing for him.

And he wasn’t ready to give her back just yet.

George trailed his lips slowly down her body, taking his time as if worshipping each inch of exposed skin. He kissed over the swell of her breasts, the dip between her ribs, the softness of her stomach, his mouth warm and reverent. She sighed beneath him, fingers still threaded in his hair, body pliant, expectant. When he reached the waistband of her skirt, he didn’t hesitate—his hands slid beneath the fabric and dragged it down her thighs, along with her panties in one fluid, practiced motion.

Before she could react, he tucked the delicate scrap of fabric into his pocket with a mischievous smirk.

“You’ve got to stop doing that,” she murmured, breathless and half-laughing. “Panties are expensive, you know.”

George only grinned, wicked and unrepentant. “Worth every Galleon.”

So Fred kept souvenirs too. Of course he did. They really were two halves of the same irreverent, insatiable whole.

His gaze dropped between her legs, and his breath hitched audibly. Her cunt was already glistening, soft and flushed and soaking for him—and not even for him. He groaned low in his throat, eyes fluttering half-shut, as if the sight alone had knocked the air from his lungs.

“Merlin,” he breathed, reverent.

He dipped his head, and the first drag of his tongue across her slit was slow, savoring, almost exploratory. She gasped, fingers tightening in his hair as her back arched off the mattress. He groaned against her, voice thick and ragged, “So fucking perfect.”

And then he devoured her.

There was no other word for it. George licked and sucked with a ravenous hunger, alternating between slow, languid strokes and sharp flicks of his tongue over her clit that made her thighs tremble on either side of his head. His hands anchored her to the bed, fingers digging into her hips to hold her steady as he feasted on her like a man starved, like she was the first taste of something forbidden and divine.

Y/N’s hips rolled helplessly against his mouth, breath stuttering, soft gasps and broken moans spilling from her lips in a helpless stream. Her hands fisted in his hair, trying to ground herself, trying to survive the intensity.

“Oh—oh, Fred—” she whimpered, the name slipping out in a moan as another sharp wave of pleasure rolled through her.

A voice cut through the haze like a knife.

“I’m right here, baby.”

Her eyes flew open just in time to see Fred, towel slung low around his hips, stepping into view from the opposite side of the dorm. His wet hair clung to his forehead, a smug smirk playing on his lips as he took in the scene—the way her thighs were spread wide, the way George’s head was buried between them, the way she’d just moaned his name while being eaten out by his twin.

She gasped, half in shock, half because George had just sucked hard on her clit, sending a bolt of white-hot pleasure ricocheting up her spine. Her body twitched, a strangled sound caught in her throat.

Fred tilted his head, grin deepening as he sauntered over, utterly unbothered, eyes dark with something between amusement and heat. “Don’t stop now,” he said smoothly, looking straight at George. “Let him finish. You were so close, weren’t you, sweetheart?”

Y/N blinked up at him, lips parted, heart hammering. Every nerve was alight. Embarrassment, arousal, and adrenaline surged in a volatile mix—and yet… she didn’t tell them to stop.

She didn’t want to.

George didn’t even glance up, too focused on the way she clenched beneath his tongue, too intoxicated by her taste, her sounds, her scent. If anything, Fred’s voice seemed to embolden him, his grip tightening on her hips as he latched back onto her clit with renewed hunger, drawing another high-pitched moan from her lips.

And Fred? Fred just sat down beside them, lazily dragging a hand through her hair, watching with something close to fondness.

“My girl’s so spoiled,” he murmured, fingers curling at the nape of her neck. “But you like being spoiled, don’t you?”

She nodded, almost shy beneath the attention, breath catching as she tried to ride out the waves rolling through her. “Yeah…” she breathed, voice quivering, eyes glassy.

Fred chuckled lowly, satisfaction lacing his tone. “Yeah? I bet you do, baby.”

His words were warm and sinful against the shell of her ear, his gaze fixed on the sight before him—his brother buried between her thighs, making her tremble and gasp and fall apart with nothing more than his mouth. George looked ravenous, like he lived for the way she tasted, and Fred couldn’t deny the thrill that curled in his chest watching the two people he knew best—his brother and his girl—wrapped in something so intoxicating and filthy and beautiful.

As another soft moan slipped from her lips, Fred leaned down and captured her mouth in a kiss. Slow, firm, possessive. She melted into it instantly, whimpering softly into his mouth as her fingers reached for him, one hand tangled in his damp hair, the other resting on his bare chest. His tongue stroked against hers with deliberate rhythm, matching the way George’s tongue worked her below.

Fred’s hands moved with ease, familiar with her curves, her softness, the places that made her sigh. He cupped her breasts gently at first, thumbs brushing over her nipples, before kneading them more firmly, squeezing just enough to make her arch into his touch. Her body was caught between them—George’s relentless mouth between her legs, Fred’s roaming hands and hungry kiss above—and she felt like she was unraveling, thread by thread.

George glanced up, his mouth glistening with her arousal, lips parted in a breathless grin. His eyes flicked between them—his brother kissing the girl currently coming on his tongue—and he looked so fucking pleased with himself. He licked a slow stripe up her slit, deliberately teasing her clit with the flat of his tongue, then smirked as she shivered beneath him.

“Fuck, she tastes good,” George muttered, voice low and rough, his breath hot against her soaked skin. “You’re lucky, Freddie.”

Fred pulled back just enough to look down at her, thumb brushing across her spit-slick bottom lip. “I know,” he said, smile lazy and wicked. “But you can enjoy her too.”

George groaned, dipping his head again, and this time he sucked—hard—on the swollen bundle of nerves, drawing out a loud, desperate moan from her throat. Fred swallowed it with another kiss, fingers tightening on her breasts, his cock already straining beneath the towel at his hips.

The moment teetered on the edge of something more—something darker, deeper, something shared.

And neither of them seemed inclined to stop.

Fred leaned in close, lips brushing her ear as he murmured, voice low and thick with desire, “Fuck. Get on your knees, love.”

The command was silk-wrapped steel, and she obeyed instinctively, her body pliant with pleasure, limbs trembling slightly as she shifted onto all fours. Her skin was flushed, glowing with the aftermath of George’s mouth, her thighs slick and trembling. George drew back with a smirk, licking his lips like he couldn’t bear to let her go, and pushed up onto his knees. His fingers moved swiftly to his belt, eyes fixed hungrily on the sight of her presenting herself between them—back arched, hair falling in tousled waves, and that perfect ass high in the air, glowing softly in the dormitory’s golden light.

“Look at you,” George said, voice dark with awe and something feral. He brought his palm down with a sharp crackagainst one cheek, watching with unashamed fascination as a rosy handprint bloomed across her soft skin.

Fred’s mouth curled into a warning grin. “Careful, mate. Don’t go bruising what’s mine.”

But there was no real bite to it. Just heat. Just challenge.

George snorted softly, his gaze never leaving her. “Oh, I’ll mark her alright.”

Fred stepped forward, guiding his cock to her mouth, tapping it lightly against her lips. She looked up at him through her lashes, lips parting obediently, and took him in—slowly, reverently, the head of him gliding over her tongue with practiced ease. Fred groaned, hand threading through her hair as he pushed deeper, his jaw flexing as her throat swallowed around him.

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice tight, already losing control.

Behind her, George lined himself up with her slick entrance, running the flushed head of his cock through the wetness that clung to her thighs before pressing forward, slowly, inch by inch, until he was buried inside the tight, wet heat of her cunt. His head fell back with a groan, one hand anchoring to her hip, the other splayed across the small of her back as if to claim her.

“Fuuuck,” he growled, voice wrecked. “Fred… you should’ve shared her a long time ago.”

Fred chuckled, the sound low and rough as he rocked into her mouth, watching tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “Maybe. But watching her like this… between us? Worth the wait.”

He gathered her hair into his fist, holding her steady, feeding his cock deeper into the warm suction of her throat while George began to move behind her—long, deep thrusts that made her body jolt, that made her whimper around Fred’s cock. George’s hips snapped forward with building urgency, the slap of skin-on-skin echoing through the room, filthy and perfect.

She was surrounded—stretched, filled, consumed by both of them—and the way she moaned, even with her mouth full, was pure surrender.

George leaned forward slightly, his chest brushing her back as he whispered into her ear, breath ragged, “You like being used by both of us, don’t you? Stuffed full like this?”

Fred groaned, hips stuttering as her throat flexed around him.

And she—caught between them, wrecked and radiant—nodded as best she could, her body already building toward another climax, her mind lost somewhere between sin and bliss.

Fred’s grip tightened in her hair as he pulled slowly back, her lips parting with a wet, glistening pop. She barely had time to gasp before he cupped her chin, thumb smearing a trail of spit across her cheek as he tilted her head up. “You ready, sweetheart?” he asked, voice hoarse with restraint. “You want both of us?”

She nodded, flushed and desperate, tongue peeking between swollen lips, pupils blown wide and shimmering with lust. “Yes,” she whispered, a single syllable soaked in pleading.

That was all it took. Fred moved behind her as George slid out of her soaked cunt, the absence making her tremble as slick dripped between her thighs. They exchanged a glance—silent, seamless understanding forged from a lifetime of shared mischief and secrets—before moving in tandem, orchestrated and deliberate. Fred settled on the bed, lying back with his head on the pillows, cock rigid and flushed as he beckoned her with a curl of his finger.

“Come ride me,” he murmured. “I want to feel you fall apart on me.”

She obeyed with a shiver, crawling over him, her knees bracketing his hips, palms resting on his chest. Fred’s hands guided her as she positioned herself, the thick head of his cock sliding easily through her folds before notching at her entrance. She sank down slowly, her breath catching, inch by inch, until he was fully seated inside her. Fred groaned, hands gripping her hips like a lifeline, his head falling back against the mattress, curls sticking to his damp temples.

“Fuck, that’s it… ride me, just like that…”

George moved behind her, his hands trailing reverently along her spine as he knelt between Fred’s legs. He spread her cheeks, watching with raw hunger as Fred’s cock disappeared into her dripping pussy, the sight of it alone enough to make his own cock twitch with urgent need. Her puckered hole clenched slightly in anticipation as he thumbed over it, gently teasing the sensitive ring of muscle while Fred’s hands caressed her thighs, steadying her.

“You want me here, too?” George asked, his voice thick, almost reverent, as he pressed a soft kiss to the small of her back. “Want to be filled everywhere, love?”

Her breath hitched—half gasp, half moan—and she nodded, the movement quick, desperate. “Please… please, Georgie…”

He exhaled a shaky breath, then slicked himself thoroughly with the wetness clinging to her thighs, making sure she was ready. With one hand braced on her lower back and the other guiding his cock, he pressed forward—slow, steady, unforgiving. The tight resistance of her ass made him groan aloud, his jaw clenching as he pushed past the initial barrier and slid deeper, inch by careful inch, until he was fully buried inside her.

The stretch was immense. She whimpered, trembling between them, completely impaled—Fred’s cock pulsing inside her soaked cunt while George filled her ass, thick and hot and overwhelming. They paused for a moment, letting her adjust, their hands stroking her sides, her hips, her thighs in soft, grounding motions.

“Doing so well,” Fred murmured, his voice like velvet laced with smoke. “Taking us both like such a good girl.”

“Better than good,” George added, his voice breathless against her shoulder as he leaned forward, molding himself to her back. “Fucking perfect.”

Then they began to move.

It started slow—Fred thrusting upward while George rocked forward, their rhythm offset at first, a clumsy tangle of breath and heat. But they found it quickly, a seamless, synchronized cadence that turned her into a living metronome between them. Fred’s cock dragged upward through the silken heat of her cunt just as George pushed deep into the tight clench of her ass, every stroke filling the spaces the other left behind, making her feel impossibly full, impossibly stretched.

She couldn’t think—could barely breathe—every nerve ending alight, every inch of her body claimed and touched and held. Her hands scrabbled against Fred’s chest, nails leaving half-moons on his skin, while George’s arms wrapped tight around her waist, anchoring her as he fucked into her from behind.

The sound of skin slapping skin filled the dormitory, mixed with ragged moans, whispered curses, and the creak of the bed beneath them. George kissed her shoulder, her spine, her nape—biting softly, reverently—while Fred grinned up at her with wild, adoring eyes, his thumbs circling the tender peaks of her breasts.

“Look at you,” Fred growled, voice cracking with pleasure. “Taking both of us… fucking ruined for us.”

“You’re ours,” George murmured, kissing the shell of her ear. “Always ours.”

She shattered on those words.

Her orgasm hit like a wave, sudden and cataclysmic—her body clamping down around them, her vision going white as a cry tore from her throat. She bucked between them, helpless, sobbing their names as pleasure split her open and poured through every limb.

Fred cursed, hips stuttering as her cunt tightened around him, the pulsing grip milking him, dragging him over the edge with a choked moan. “Fuck, fuck—baby—” He came hard, hips jerking, his cock twitching inside her as he spilled deep, his fingers bruising on her hips.

George wasn’t far behind. The sight of her coming, the feel of her ass clenching so tight around him, her cries echoing in his ears—it was too much. His rhythm faltered, then snapped, and with a guttural growl he slammed into her one last time, spilling himself inside her in hot, desperate pulses. His arms locked tight around her torso as he rode out his orgasm, burying his face in the crook of her neck, breath ragged and broken.

For a long, breathless moment, none of them moved.

They remained tangled—sweaty, trembling, skin to skin—held together by heat and friction and something deeper, quieter, unspoken. Fred reached up to brush hair from her damp forehead, kissing her gently, tenderly, while George’s hands traced lazy circles across her belly, his cheek pressed to her spine.

She felt utterly spent. Owned. Worshipped. Loved.

And she never wanted to be anywhere else.

First time writing something this taboo do I get a gold star? 🌝

#emmy writes!#hogwarts fanfiction #harry potter smut #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley smut #george weasley #george weasley smut #george weasly x reader #george wealsey imagine #weasley twins

1K notes · View notes

cbeargyu · 3 months ago

Text

ALL FOR HIM ♡

summary: you were just the shy girl everyone picked on—until jaehyun stood up for you. from that moment on, you couldn’t stop thinking about him… and when he finally takes you, right there at school, you let him do whatever he wants. because he’s jaehyun. and you’re his.

pairing: popular!jaehyun x shy fem!reader

genre: smut, bullying, possessive love, obsession, breeding kink, slow burn.

warnings: smut, bullying, explicit language, dirty talk, titjob, blowjob, breeding kink, public setting (school), possessiveness, emotional manipulation, oral sex, explicit descriptions of sex, dominant/submissive dynamics, unprotected sex (implied), masturbation. reader has big tits.

wc: 5,1k

you were used to it by now. the whispers, the laughter that wasn't quite hidden, the way your name passed between lips like a joke, something to smirk about. it had started freshman year and followed you like a curse ever since — a quiet, intelligent girl with a full chest and too much silence to defend herself with. you didn’t talk back. you never did. they liked that. it made things easier for them.

you had been trying to get to your locker that day, clutching your books to your chest, eyes on the floor as usual, when one of them blocked your path — tall, loud, one of the usual assholes, with a stupid grin on his face and a crowd behind him.

“what’s the matter?” he laughed. “books too heavy for your big-ass tits to carry?”

you winced, shoulders curling in, trying to push past, but he stepped closer, towering over you. someone else behind him snickered. you hated the way they looked at you — like your body was the only thing about you that existed. like your face didn’t matter. like you were just... meat.

and then, it happened.

a loud thud — the sound of a basketball slamming into skin — followed by a sharp grunt of pain. the guy in front of you stumbled back, clutching his nose, blood already dripping between his fingers. gasps filled the hallway. you blinked, stunned, just in time to see him.

jung jaehyun.

walking toward you with the kind of calm that could only come from someone who knew his power. he was tall, strong, with broad shoulders and that clean-cut look everyone in school adored — uniform perfect, tie loose around his neck, the sleeves of his shirt rolled just enough to show the veins in his forearms. and god, that face. that beautiful, unfairly symmetrical face. smooth skin, sharp jawline, soft eyes, and a smile that had dimples deep enough to drown in.

“get lost.”

he didn’t smile now, though. his eyes were cold.

“you deaf or just fucking stupid?” jaehyun asked, voice low and dangerous as he stepped right up to the guy who had just been mocking you. “i said get lost.”

no one moved.

jaehyun tilted his head. “do i need to break your nose again?”

the guy muttered something and scurried off, dragging the others with him. no one dared to stay. jaehyun had that kind of pull — not just popularity, but respect. he was the star of the basketball team, the top of the class, the golden boy. he never caused trouble, but you just knew that if he did, no one would ever dare challenge him.

when the hallway finally cleared, you realized you were still frozen. still clutching your books like a shield.

jaehyun turned to you then, and the sharpness in his expression melted instantly. he looked at you like you mattered. like he saw you.

“you okay?” he asked, voice soft now, warm like sunlight.

you nodded, too shocked to speak.

he crouched slightly to pick up the notebook you hadn’t even realized you dropped, and when he handed it to you, your fingers brushed. his skin was warm.

“listen,” he said, eyes locked on yours, “if anyone ever fucks with you again, you tell me. i’ll deal with it.”

you stared at him, heart pounding, face burning. you’d never had anyone say something like that to you. no one had everstood up for you.

“thank you,” you whispered.

and he smiled. not a polite smile — not the kind he gave teachers or classmates — but a real one. soft and open, the kind that made his eyes crinkle at the corners and his dimples sink deep into his cheeks.

“anytime,” he said, and then he was walking away, basketball back in his hands, spinning it lazily on one finger as if nothing had happened.

from that moment on, he was everywhere. or maybe you were just seeing him for the first time.

every time he stepped into the classroom, spinning his ball, that same lopsided smile on his face, your heart clenched painfully in your chest. sometimes he’d catch your gaze and wave, and you’d feel your breath hitch, cheeks turning pink as you quickly looked away.

you started writing about him. not because you wanted to — you needed to. your notebooks were full of little pieces of him. how his eyes turned into crescent moons when he laughed. how he always tapped his pencil against the desk when he was thinking. how he’d tie a black headband into his hair when studying, pushing it back to reveal his perfect forehead, his sharp brows, his devastating focus.

you wrote about how he always smelled like clean soap and faint cologne. how he bit his lip when he concentrated. how he always sat with one leg bouncing slightly, headphones in, completely lost in whatever music he was listening to.

you wrote about how good he looked in uniform — shirt crisp, blazer fitting him like it had been made for his body, tie loose just enough to show the curve of his neck. you memorized the way his throat moved when he swallowed water after a game, how sweat clung to his temples, how his chest rose and fell under the fabric when he caught his breath.

and sometimes… when you were alone… you let yourself write the filthier parts, the ones you’d never say out loud. the ones you weren’t supposed to think about. how it would feel to have his fingers inside you — those long, beautiful fingers that handled basketballs and pencils and textbooks with such easy precision.

you couldn’t stop. you were obsessed.

the dreams were getting worse — or better, depending on how you looked at it. every night, your brain pulled you into a fantasy soaked with heat and desperation, and he was always at the center of it. jung jaehyun. kissing you senseless in an empty classroom, whispering things that made your toes curl, pinning your wrists down while his mouth did sinful things to your body. sometimes he’d press you against the lockers, sometimes he’d have you on your knees in the locker room, his voice low and breathless, calling you pretty while he ruined you.

you would wake up flushed, sheets tangled around your legs, thighs slick and sticky, chest rising and falling like you had just run a marathon. you didn’t know how to stop it. you didn’t want to. you were too far gone, too deep in this obsession. you thought about him when you were brushing your teeth, when you were walking home, when the teacher said his name during attendance and your heart would stutter painfully in your chest.

he was inside your head, in your notebooks, in your fucking dreams.

and then came the moment — so small, so brief, but it set your entire soul on fire.

you had been organizing your books after class, everyone else already rushing off to lunch, when you felt a presence beside you. your heart jumped in panic, thinking it was another one of the bullies, but then you heard his voice — calm and warm like a quiet summer afternoon.

“you always stay behind?”

you turned your head and there he was, leaning one arm against the locker next to yours, a lazy smile on his face.

“uh… sometimes,” you answered, your voice barely audible.

he chuckled softly, dimples forming. “you’re always so quiet. it’s kinda cute.”

and then, as if he hadn’t just completely set your whole world upside down, he straightened up and walked away, hands in his pockets, tossing a casual, “see you in gym,” over his shoulder like it was nothing.

but to you, it wasn’t nothing. it was everything.

the image of him calling you cute looped in your head like a broken record, every word replaying with different meanings. you couldn’t eat. you couldn’t breathe. how were you supposed to sit through a full gym class with him now?

the next day, the coach had you all out on the track for timed sprints. full laps around the court, the sun already high and merciless.

“four laps,” the coach barked. “let’s see if any of you are faster than last week.”

jaehyun, of course, was at the front — smooth, effortless, like running didn’t even tire him. he finished in under four minutes, barely breaking a sweat, his black shirt clinging to his back, his arms flexing with every movement as he jogged to a stop and checked his time.

you, on the other hand, were dying. you hadn’t even finished your second lap and already your lungs were burning, your legs threatening to give out, your hair sticking to your face in humid strands. you ran like a baby deer — clumsy, off balance, desperate to just finish.

you could hear the laughter behind you.

“jesus, look at those things bounce,” one of the guys snorted, pointing. “they’ve got more movement than she does.”

you didn’t have to look back to know they were talking about your chest again. your face burned with shame, but you didn’t stop. you kept running — slow, pathetic — wishing you could disappear.

from the sidelines, jaehyun had been sipping from his water bottle, head tilted back, sweat glistening along the side of his neck. the moment he heard the voices behind him, his smile faded. his eyes narrowed.

he turned — and then he saw you.

struggling to keep pace, chest heaving, arms barely lifting. and, fuck. he hated himself for it, but his eyes slipped down. just for a second. just long enough to catch the way your breasts moved with every step, pushed up tight against your gym shirt, too big to be ignored.

he looked away fast, jaw clenching, swallowing hard. he hadn’t meant to do that. you were you — the quiet, sweet girl who wrote notes in class and blushed whenever he waved at her. but his body didn’t care about intentions. his palms suddenly felt hot.

and then you stumbled.

your knees gave out mid-step and you crashed to the floor with a soft cry, your hands catching you just barely before you face-planted. a burst of dust rose around you as your body trembled, trying to get up, but you just coughed, hunched over, chest rising and falling like you couldn’t breathe.

jaehyun didn’t hesitate. he was already running toward you, weaving between students, dropping to his knees in front of you.

“hey— hey, are you okay?”

you blinked up at him, dazed, tears pricking at your eyes from the embarrassment and the pain and the heat.

he reached for you gently, one hand on your waist, the other on your shoulder, steadying you as you tried to sit up. your forehead pressed against his chest for a second, and that’s when it happened — your body tilted forward, and your breasts, full and warm, pressed flush against him.

jaehyun stiffened, just for a second. you felt the tension ripple through him, the way his breath caught in his throat. but he didn’t move away. he kept holding you, focused on your face.

“don’t move too fast,” he murmured. “breathe first.”

you nodded, barely hearing his words over the rush in your ears. you could smell him — clean sweat and soft cologne and something uniquely him. you could feel his arm tightening just slightly around your waist, the strength of his grip making your stomach flutter with heat.

you felt dizzy. not from the fall — but from him.

he took you to the infirmary himself. one arm wrapped around your waist the entire way, supporting your weight, even though you swore your knees were about to give out for a completely different reason. the nurse gasped a little when she saw you, ushering you inside quickly. she cleaned your hands first, then your scraped knees, the sting of antiseptic barely registered against the pounding of your heart. she gave you a bottle of electrolyte water and laid you down on the cot, drawing the thin curtain half-closed around the bed. jaehyun lingered near the corner, arms crossed over his chest, brows slightly furrowed with worry.

“you’ll be okay,” he said quietly, more to himself than to you.

the nurse told him he could go, that you’d be taken care of. he hesitated, then finally turned to leave. but just before slipping past the curtain, he paused and looked back at you.

your lips parted. you wanted to say thank you, to tell him how much it meant to you. but your throat tightened. your mouth wouldn’t move. so you just stared, wide-eyed and grateful, as he gave you the softest smile and walked away.

that image of him—turning back just for you—haunted you the rest of the day.

now, the school was silent. the sun was beginning to set, painting orange stripes across the dusty floor. you were sitting in the very back row of the empty classroom, in your regular uniform again, knees together, hands on your lap. your wounds still stung faintly beneath the bandages.

you weren’t sure why you hadn’t gone home yet. maybe you were waiting for the hallway to clear completely. maybe you were waiting for your heart to calm down. maybe… you were just hoping.

when the sliding door suddenly slammed open, you flinched, body jerking in surprise.

“y/n?”

you turned and saw him—jaehyun, standing at the doorway, his bag slung lazily over one shoulder, eyes widening when he saw you still there.

“what’re you doing here?”

you swallowed, clutching your skirt tightly. “i… i was just waiting… for time to pass,” you mumbled.

he blinked. “huh?”

you shook your head, embarrassed. “nevermind… what about you?”

he walked down the row toward his desk. “forgot my books.”

you watched him crouch, reach under his chair, and pull out a pair of thick textbooks. he dusted one off and sighed, then straightened up and turned toward you.

“guess i’ll see y—”

“wait.”

you stood up quickly, heart hammering in your throat. he paused mid-step, looking at you curiously.

you took a deep breath, walking slowly toward him. “i… i didn’t get to thank you properly. earlier. at the infirmary.”

his face softened. “you don’t have to—”

“but i want to,” you interrupted. “you’ve always helped me. since the beginning. you defended me. you smiled at me. you… you noticed me, when no one else ever did.”

he seemed confused, shifting awkwardly on his feet. “it’s really not a big deal…”

you stepped in closer, until you were right in front of him. your hands came up, trembling slightly, fingers curling around his forearms. he went still.

“let me show you how much it means to me,” you whispered.

your voice was soft but firm, and for the first time in a long time, you looked him straight in the eye. your gaze must’ve shaken him, because his breath caught, lips parting slightly.

you saw it clearly—his pupils dilated, his throat working in a hard swallow, his fingers twitching where they gripped his books.

he nodded. just once.

you dropped slowly to your knees in front of him. his books thudded quietly to the desk behind him, and his hands hovered awkwardly in the air as he stared down at you, his cheeks beginning to flush a soft pink.

“w-wait… you don’t have to—”

“don’t run away,” you said gently, undoing the button of his pants. “please… just let me do this. for you.”

your fingers slipped inside his waistband, tugging his boxers down just enough to free him. his cock was already semi-hard, twitching slightly from the anticipation. you wrapped your hand around it, stroking slowly, feeling it grow heavier, thicker, until it stood hard in your palm.

“fuck…” he whispered, barely audible.

you leaned forward, brushing your lips against the tip before pressing a soft kiss to it. his hips jerked subtly, the sound of your lips parting filling the space between you. you opened your mouth and took him in slowly, inch by inch, until your nose brushed his skin.

he gasped above you, both hands flying to your head—but he didn’t push, didn’t move. he just stood there, mouth slightly open, watching you with wide, stunned eyes.

you began to bob your head gently, hollowing your cheeks, tongue curling under him every time you came back up. soft, wet sounds filled the classroom.

“ah— shit— y/n…”

you looked up at him through your lashes, and he visibly trembled.

after a few minutes, you pulled off him with a soft pop, your hand still stroking him slowly. then, with shaking fingers, you reached up to unbutton your blouse.

he swallowed thickly as your shirt fell open, revealing your soft pink lace bra—delicate and low-cut, barely containing your breasts.

“jesus christ…” he whispered.

you reached behind and unclasped it, letting your full breasts bounce free. his eyes darkened instantly.

“you’ve… thought about this, haven’t you?” you asked softly, taking his cock again and pressing it between them. “thought about these tits around your cock?”

he couldn’t even speak—he just groaned, his hips twitching forward involuntarily.

you spit lightly on your cleavage, then sandwiched him between your breasts, squeezing them together, watching his shaft disappear into the softness.

“so big,” you whispered, beginning to move. “you’re so fucking hard already… is it because you like my tits? you always stare, don’t think i don’t notice… dirty boy…”

“f-fuck—”

he was a mess, jaw slack, hands digging into the desk behind him for support.

“does it feel good? fucking my tits like this?”

he nodded helplessly, eyes locked on the way your breasts bounced with every movement.

“gonna cum for me?”

“y/n, i— i can’t—”

you smirked, speeding up, pressing your chest tighter around him.

“do it, jaehyun. cum for me. give it to me. right on my tits— on my face— anywhere you want…”

that was it.

with a loud, choked moan, his hips bucked one final time and he came—thick spurts landing hot across your chest, your neck, and the corner of your lips.

you closed your eyes, letting it paint you, sticky and warm, your own thighs rubbing together beneath your skirt from how insanely turned on you were.

you looked up at him, covered in his release, breathing heavily.

and jaehyun just stared—like he’d never seen anything more erotic in his entire life.

his breath was still ragged when he looked down at you—your chest heaving, the mess he made still warm across your skin, your lips slightly parted, a satisfied, sinful little smile tugging at the corners. you looked wrecked, ruined, and yet—so eager. so ready for more. he didn’t even realize he was moving until his hand wrapped firmly around your wrist, tugging you up with surprising strength.

“jaehyun—?”

you barely had time to speak before he spun you around and pressed you down against the long table behind you. the wood was cold against your thighs, but your skin was on fire. his grip on your wrist loosened only when your back hit the surface, and then—then both of his hands were on your waist, pushing you higher onto the desk, sliding you into place like he knew exactly where he wanted you.

his eyes were darker now, focused. his lips were parted, but not from surprise—no, this was hunger. and you couldn’t breathe. your whole body shivered, because for the first time, jaehyun wasn’t soft, or shy, or hesitating.

he was taking.

you looked up at him, pupils wide and glassy. your hands slid behind you, propping yourself up as your legs instinctively fell apart—slow, deliberate—an offering. your skirt rose high on your thighs, barely covering anything anymore, and jaehyun’s gaze flickered down, locking on the sight of your glistening underwear. he stepped forward, and the bulge pressing against his boxers brushed right over your clothed heat.

“fuck,” he muttered under his breath, almost like a prayer.

his hands went to your knees, gently pushing them even wider apart. his body settled between your legs perfectly, and when he leaned down, you could feel the pressure of him—still hard, already twitching again—grinding slow and steady against your soaked panties.

“you were waiting for this, weren’t you?” his voice was low now, rough with need. “you wanted me to lose control…”

you whimpered, nodding, your hips rising slightly to chase the friction.

“you’re so wet already,” he murmured, dragging his fingers down your inner thigh before pressing against the soaked fabric. “fuck, y/n… this is all for me?”

“yes,” you breathed, voice trembling. “always you…”

his lips crashed onto yours—not soft, not tender, but needy and desperate. you melted into the kiss, moaning when his tongue slid into your mouth, his hand already curling under the hem of your skirt, tugging your panties aside to feel how soaked you truly were. his fingers slid through your folds, teasing, barely dipping inside.

“god… you’re dripping…”

his cock rubbed against your bare slit now, still restrained by his boxers, but so hot and thick you could feel every ridge and pulse. you rolled your hips instinctively, wanting him, needing him.

“please…” you begged against his lips, eyes fluttering shut. “i want you… jaehyun, i want you so bad...”

he kissed you again, deeper this time, groaning into your mouth as his fingers dug into your thighs and spread you wider on the table.

and then he whispered against your lips, voice wrecked, trembling—

“then let me fuck you like you deserve.”

you barely had time to react before jaehyun gripped your waist tighter and pulled back just enough to free himself. his cock sprang free—hard, thick, flushed dark at the tip, slick with your spit from earlier. your mouth parted at the sight, eyes wide, pulse rushing so loud it almost drowned out the sound of your own breathing.

he didn’t tease. didn’t ask. he just looked at you—those deep eyes locking onto yours—and pressed the fat head of his cock right against your soaked entrance. you gasped, thighs trembling around his hips, and when he pushed in, slow but steady, your nails scratched at the wood of the desk beneath you.

“fuck—so tight,” he groaned, jaw clenched as your walls swallowed inch after inch. “you were made for this, weren’t you? made to take me like this.”

your body arched, lips falling open in a silent moan as he bottomed out—so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach. your fingers reached up blindly, gripping his shoulders, needing to hold onto something as he started to move, rolling his hips with a rhythm that made your breath hitch.

“ah—jae... fuck, you're so deep...”

“yeah?” he panted, one hand sliding up your side, gripping your throat just enough to hold your focus. his thrusts quickened, sharper now, every stroke hitting that spot that made your vision blur. “you like this, baby? you like me fucking you open like this?”

“yes—yes, please, don’t stop—”

his mouth dropped to your neck, lips hot and wet as he kissed, licked, then bit, groaning into your skin as you clenched around him. your legs wrapped tighter around his waist, hips lifting to meet every thrust, desperate, unhinged.

he didn’t slow down. couldn’t. your cunt was so wet, sucking him in, and the sounds between you were filthy—skin on skin, your moans mixing with his curses, the desk creaking beneath you. he pulled back to look at you again, hand still on your throat, his thumb brushing over your jaw as he whispered against your lips:

“you want it?” he asked, voice low, shaky. “want me to cum inside? fill you up like the dirty girl you are?”

your whole body shuddered. you nodded, gasping as your nails dug into his arms.

“yes—yes, please, jaehyun—cum in me, fill me up, i want it so bad,” you moaned, voice breaking. “please breed me... i want your cum inside me, i want you to make me yours, fuck a baby into me—please—”

his hips stuttered.

“fuck—say it again,” he groaned, pounding into you harder now, rougher.

“i want you to get me pregnant,” you cried out, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from how deep he was. “i want it, i want all of it, fill me up—don’t pull out, please, jaehyun—”

he lost it.

with a guttural growl, his hand tightened on your waist, slamming into you with everything he had left. your thighs trembled, body twitching as he fucked you through the most intense orgasm yet—your vision went white, walls spasming violently around his cock.

“fuckfuckfuck—i’m gonna cum—” he choked, slamming into you one final time and staying there, buried to the hilt. “take it, take all of it—fucking take my cum—”

his hips jerked as he spilled inside you, hot and heavy, pulse after pulse of thick, messy release flooding your walls. you moaned loudly, holding him close, feeling every twitch, every drop leaking out around his cock.

he stayed there, breathing hard against your neck, both of you drenched in sweat and panting like you'd run a marathon.

“god…” he whispered, lips brushing your temple. “you feel so good. i don’t ever wanna stop.”

you smiled, blissful, dazed, and fucked-out beneath him.

his cock was still buried deep inside you, twitching slightly as your walls fluttered around him, still trying to recover from the last orgasm. your body was limp beneath him, warm and soft, and your chest rose and fell with heavy, satisfied breaths. but jaehyun didn’t move away. he didn’t even pull out. instead, he cupped your face gently, brushing damp strands of hair from your cheek, eyes locked on yours with a hunger that hadn’t faded in the slightest.

“you okay, baby?” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw.

you nodded slowly, voice gone, lips swollen and parted as you blinked up at him with hazy, blissed-out eyes. you could still feel his cum inside you, thick and hot, slowly dripping out around where his cock stayed snug inside your soaked pussy. the sensation alone made your thighs tremble again.

“you’re so fucking pretty like this,” he murmured, thumb stroking your cheek as he rolled his hips—just a little. it made you gasp, your hands clutching at his arms. “laid out for me… stuffed full of my cum… god, i can’t get enough of you.”

“jae…” your voice was barely there, breathless.

“shhh, baby, i know,” he said, voice thick, low, almost reverent. “i know it’s a lot. but i need you again. just like this. slow, yeah? just let me feel you. let me keep you full.”

he started to move—deep, slow thrusts that had your mouth falling open all over again. every stroke dragged his cock against your walls in the perfect way, the mess between your bodies squelching with each push. he groaned when he felt more of his cum leaking out, and he angled his hips to press deeper, like he was trying to put it all back in.

“fuck—look at this pussy,” he growled softly. “so greedy… you’re still sucking me in like you never want me to leave.”

you whimpered, arms wrapping around his neck as he leaned down, kissing you tenderly. the kiss melted into something wetter, more desperate, your tongues tangled while his hips rocked slowly against yours.

“i don’t want you to leave,” you whispered against his lips. “i want more… want it all, jaehyun.”

his hand slid down your side, gripping your thigh and lifting your leg up to press your knee against your chest, folding you open more. the angle made him hit even deeper, and you gasped again, body arching under him.

“yeah?” he smirked, panting against your neck now. “you want me to fuck another load into this tight little cunt? want me to knock you up right here on this fucking desk?”

“yes—please,” you moaned, your voice cracking from how desperate you were. “give me everything again… want to be full, want it dripping out of me all night—”

“fuck—fuck, baby,” he cursed, fucking you harder now, his control unraveling again. “i’ll do it. i’ll breed this pussy until you can’t walk. make you mine. no one else is ever gonna get this. no one’s ever gonna touch you like this again.”

you cried out, gripping the edge of the desk as the pace grew heavier, the sound of skin slapping echoing off the empty classroom walls. you felt him throbbing inside you again, the pressure building so fast you couldn’t hold back.

“please cum inside—please, jaehyun—wanna feel it again—wanna be yours—”

that was all it took.

he slammed into you one last time and came with a loud, broken groan, spilling deep inside you again, hot and heavy, filling you completely. your body clenched around him, milking every drop, and you came with a sob, burying your face in his neck as your whole body shook.

he stayed there for a long time, cock still buried inside you, both of you panting, stuck together by sweat and cum and something even deeper. his hand gently rubbed your hip as he kissed your temple.

“you’re mine now,” he whispered.

and you smiled, because you already were.

you were still trembling when he finally, slowly, pulled out, and you both watched the thick mix of your juices drip down your inner thighs, pooling beneath you on the desk. he helped clean you gently, his touch careful, almost reverent, as if he didn’t want to hurt you now that your body was all sore and sensitive from how many times he’d used you.

you reached for your crumpled uniform, cheeks burning, fingers fumbling with the buttons of your blouse as you tried to fix yourself. your bra was slightly damp, your thighs sticky, your knees aching—but your heart… your heart was thudding with something deeper, fuller. you could still feel him inside you. your chest was tight with warmth, overflowing with something you hadn’t dared to name before now.

jaehyun leaned against the desk, watching you quietly with a lazy, satisfied smirk, his hair messy, lips a little swollen. he looked so unfairly perfect—just like always. but this time, you knew what those lips tasted like. you knew how his voice sounded when he moaned your name.

just as you finished adjusting your skirt and were smoothing down your sleeves, he stepped close again, towering over you with that same presence that made your knees weak.

his fingers tucked your collar into place, brushing your skin in the process. he looked into your eyes, so deep, so intense it made your breath catch.

“don’t forget,” he murmured, voice low, possessive, with a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips, “you’re mine.”

you bit your lip, heart pounding all over again. “i know,” you whispered, looking up at him with stars in your eyes. “i don’t want to be anything else.”

he kissed your forehead softly, and your heart melted on the spot.

you were hopelessly, completely his.

2K notes · View notes

mononijikayu · 3 months ago

Text

thinking about volleyball player! sukuna getting upset because astrophysicist! reader doesn't wanna go with him in the shower after a long day of not seeing each other.

all volleyball player! sukuna wants is to hold your hand while he's cleaning his face for the night because he wants to feel you close after being touch starved.

because god forbid a loving devoted husband like him just wants to be with and feel his dear and beloved wife close to him after a long (heartbreaking) day of not being together. god forbid that this is his love language.

"are you actually mad at me?" sukuna pouts as he stands before you, still holding your hand. "do you actually not love me anymore?"

you sighed, looking at him. "my love, i did multiple labs today. i wanna be lazy right now."

"but i missed you." he whines to you, almost like a cat after not getting the belly rubs he wants. "come on, you can sit on the stool there while i look at you prettily at the mirror, still holding my hand."

"ryomen sukuna—"

"woah, just say you don't love me anymore at this point." he cuts you off, his face looking offended. "that's not my name. how dare you?"

"my love, really....." you sighed, rolling your eyes at his antics. you looked up and saw him glaring at you, like he was ready to cry. "its just the bathroom. you're just getting cleaned up."

"god forbid a man wants to multi–task." he huffs, shaking his head at you. his eyes looked like they were begging now. a sudden change from before. his hand squeezing your own. "come on, baby. just give in."

nearly a decade or so being together with such love with ryomen sukuna, you had always known that he was clingy but you never thought that he would be this clingy after getting married to you.

in some ways, marriage didn't really change your dynamics or your feelings for each other. that's just how it was when you've been so in love and continue to be in love after all this time.

but there was something about getting married that made the intensity of his desire to hold you, to touch you even more overwhelming. his life is incomplete when he's not feeling the warmth that completes the cold sweat that comes after he sits down and leaves the court for the day.

his body demands the warmth of you to complete him when the passion of the court cools down. because at the end of the day, he will walk out of that court. he will always go and in and out of it.

but you were the only one he could never leave. you were the only one that he will never resign himself away from. you were that only exception. because you bring him to life in ways not even the thunderous intensity of that ball hitting his palm ever would.

your warmth was more than anything that could ever be in this world. and he knows it. you knew it. so, yes, you could feel annoyed at the thought of him sulking and groaning and crying and moping with neediness for you and everything about you.

but it instantly goes away. because you love this man. and he loves you. that will never go away. annoyance is temporary but wanting to love him with everything despite it all is forever.

you looked at him for one more moment, seeing the tears threaten to fall down his eyes as though he was a little child about to have a crash out over not getting his favorite lollipop. you shake your head and started smiling and then laughing.

"alright, alright. just tonight, my love. after that, we'll go to bed."

you saw the threat of tears immediately disappear as he grins widely, almost as if his melt down had never happened. almost instantly, your husband became a golden retriever who has finally gotten a treat to enjoy.

he all but embraces you with everything in him, with you being nearly falling over as you get consumed by the warmth of his much bigger built. impressively, your hands are still locked in with his.

"my love—i'm about to fall!"

he laughs. "baby, you'll never fall. not when im here to catch you!"

and you like to think that's the case. he's never let you fall anywhere. he's never let you suffer or feel like he never cares for you or loves you. instead, he keeps you high above with him in the joyous clouds, enjoying the bountiful of the love he pours everything into.

when you both go to the bathroom, he's doing his facial with his free hand while his other one still remained wrapped against your own. you continued to listen to him talk about his day with enthusiasm, his bright scarlet eyes never leaving your own, which was full of love for him.

"did you know they're finally allowing me to have my uniform and shoes engrave the 'my love' on it?"

you blinked. "you requested it? and they approved it?"

"i mean, i've asked about it the moment i signed for them babe! been wanting to keep you with me at court if i can't wear my ring." he says, beaming at you. "but since im renegotiating my contract with the tokyo great bears and with the national team, it was the demand i asked for in my contract and they said yes!"

you could feel your entire chest feel warm and your entire body turn red as the blood in pumped high with pressure, feeling overwhelmed by the love your husband has for you. you use your free hand to hide your face in your palm, out of sheer flustered feeling taking over you.

how did you ever luck out in love in a world that has such a bleak look? how could one have such a big heart to love? how could you not love him and only him? how could every bit of everything that is negative just burst out in positives when he loves you like this?

"baby, why are you lowering your head like that—"

"ah, you're so...." you groaned at him, before looking up, still red. "you're so!...."

he turns around, moved closer to you and pressed a warm kiss on your lips. you were stunned as the smell of his vanilla creme echoes into your nose. you turn redder than before.

"love you too, baby." he whispered to you, his eyes blossoming in heartfuls.

how can he always just defeat you with his love?

".....hurry up, i'm getting sleepy."

"hey, don't sleep before i can!"

1K notes · View notes

lay-z · 1 month ago

Text

Mommy's Good Pup (1/2)

— pairing: sub!John ‘Soap’ MacTavish ⨯ fem!Reader

— warnings/info: 18+ | smut; pet play; established romantic relationship; himbofication; dom/sub dynamic; mommy kink; rimming; free use; unrealistic amount of cum/orgasms; fluff/aftercare; abrupt ending

Johnny has some secret kinks he’d love to explore with the first woman he truly loves and trusts.

The front door slams shut behind you as you toe off your shoes to leave them behind before making your way into the flat, clutching the sleek black shopping bag in your right hand.

When you enter the living room, Johnny has already perked up on the couch like a loyal dog who’s been waiting for his owner―which is already too perfect itself.

Dressed in nothing else but a pair of black boxers and a loose-fitted tank top that matches his eye colour and gives a nice view of his muscular arms and shoulders, his baby blues light up as he tosses his phone aside on the couch cushion haphazardly, focusing all his attention on you and flashing a toothy smile before his handsome face twists into a sudden scowl.

“Where were ye?” His voice is only half accusing with a petulant undertone, like you’ve left for days without a note instead of barely two hours. “I’ve been worried.”

Approaching the couch, you put the bag down on the coffee table. “Running some errands downtown,” you answer honestly, giving a small unapologetic shrug. “Traffic was a pain in the arse, so it took a bit longer. Sorry.”

He pouts, grumbling under his breath: “Could’a told me. Doesnae take much to type a wee message, innit?”

You suppress a smile, but your eyes twinkle with mirth. Johnny is too adorable when he’s needy and clingy―which is always whenever he’s home from work and life on base.

“I didn’t want to bother you while you were at the gym.” The scowl softens―even more so when you close the distance and slowly crawl onto his lap, knees bracketing his meaty thighs on either side as you straddle him. His hands come up naturally to rest on your backside, groping your ass cheeks through your jeans as his head tips back to peer up at you.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “So thoughtful,” he croaks, pupils already dilating and swallowing up the baby blue of his irises. “But I missed my woman. Always do, ye know tha’, right?”

Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you start rubbing and caressing the sore muscles, nodding absentmindedly. He’s still warm from his recent shower, his golden skin lightly flushed, and dark mohawk damp while the fresh scent of his minty two in one bodywash and shampoo clings to him.

Johnny leans his head back against the couch, eyelids drooping with a soft sigh as he enjoys your gentle massage and the weight of you on his lap. It’s the missing piece of truly returning home and all he’s going to be craving on his leave for the next two weeks.

His fingers dig into the plump fat of your arse through the rough fabric of your jeans, like a kitten making biscuits, then his gaze drifts over to the coffee table and the black bag resting on top of it.

“So... what did ye get, hm?” he asks curiously. From the looks of the volume, you bought quite a few things.

Trailing your fingertips along his collarbones where they peek out from his tank top, you draw your thumbs up to trace the curve of his thick neck with a look that borders on hungry as you observe how his pulse throbs below his skin.

After licking your lips, you answer: “A few surprises for you to celebrate the start of your leave, baby. It’s something uh... something I think you’ll like a lot.”

Dark eyebrows draw together in a curious and intrigued frown, hips shifting underneath you as he sinks deeper into the cushions, adjusting his grip on your body. It’s subtle, but his beginning restlessness is enough to let you know that you have his full attention―like dangling a treat in front of a puppy’s snout.

“Oh, aye? A kitchen or bedroom surprise?” He lets out a boyish little laugh as you lean back to grab the bag and place it between your bodies. “Both, I suppose,” you answer with a pondering pout. “Depending on where we use it.”

He snorts, heart skipping in his chest as you begin rummaging through the contents of the bag.

“I just have a few questions, okay? Nothing bad, though.” And your own heart flutters nervously as your fingers wrap around the black soft leather collar. The small heart shaped name tag jingles softly as you pull it out―stainless steel glinting in the daylight with Mommy’s Good Pup engraved on it in cursive letters.

“Like... is this too much?” you ask, lashes fluttering with nerves and excitement as you show off the collar. His collar.

Johnny gulps audibly. Bright eyes widening comically as you reveal your surprise―or one of them at least. His cheeks flush a soft pink as his heart begins to pound blood through his veins, most of it rushing south and into his head simultaneously, nearly making him dizzy. He practically stares at the collar dangling from your fingers. The engraving on the tag causing his cock to twitch in his briefs and the softest gasp to hitch in his throat.

So, you did pick up on the hints he has been dropping for the past weeks.

“No, it’s... it’s perfect,” he manages to stammer, unable to tears his gaze away from the collar. “Ye could never have somethin’ like this be too much, luv.”

Licking his lips nervously, like a dog licking its chaps, he reaches out with sweaty palms to take the gift from your delicate grasp.

The black leather is soft and supple, obviously top-quality, the tag cool against his skin. It’s not too heavy, just enough to be a comforting pressure around his neck when fastened around it. A shudder runs down his spine as he runs his thumb over the engraving, tracing the letters that would soon rest against his skin.

He clears his throat before speaking: “So, ye’ve picked up on my hints, hm? And–” he clears his throat again and finally glances up at you again, his voice soft and strangely vulnerable, a hint of fear and excitement swirling in the depths of his eyes. “Ye dinnae think it’s... weird, do ye?”

A part of him is still unreasonably terrified of your reaction, even though you’ve already bought the collar, making the first huge step into the direction of this new kink he’s all too excited to finally explore with someone he trusts and loves more than he ever thought possible.

However, another part of him is utterly elated and eager to finally have you put the collar on him, to have you claim him the way he has been dreaming to be claimed and loved since first laying eyes on you.

You can almost see the insecure and doubtful thoughts play in his head like a horror movie before you take the collar back to unbuckle it swiftly. “No, not weird at all, baby.” You assure him with a small shrug. “I just wish you would’ve felt comfortable enough with me to just... tell me or talk about it, y’know? That’s what the John MacTavish I know and love usually does.”

His chest deflates as he exhales the deep breath he was holding, nodding eagerly. “I... I jus’ wasn’t brave enough,” he admits softly, his Scottish accent thicker than usual. “Ye ken I’m usually pretty open, but... this was different. It felt like something special and weird, something I wanted to keep just for me. Until I met ye.”

Your soft hum of acknowledgment and understanding makes him relax into the cushion, though his cock begins to throb and harden as you bring up the collar to his thick neck, your eyes locking with his in question.

“May I collar you now, baby? Make you my sweet pup officially?” you ask playfully, already fitting the leather around his neck, but waiting for his permission to fasten it.

The words Mommy’s Good Pup glint up at Johnny, making his heart race and his cock twitch again, nestled under your crotch. He feels the anticipation building inside him, the need to give himself over to you completely slowly bordering on overwhelming. This is what he’s been dreaming of and it’s finally becoming a reality.

“Aye,” he breathes out, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yes, ye can collar me, love. I’m all yers.”

Your own heart beats rapidly as you buckle up and secure the collar around his neck, listening to his words and seeing his pulse in his neck throb so deliciously.

“I know you are, baby, and I love that, but there’s some stuff we need to clear up before we do this, okay?” you remark thoughtfully while flicking the little name tag with your fingertip with a soft giggle before rubbing your palms up and down his buff chest. “What exactly is this about? Do you want to be used? Need more attention and loving? A little bit of degradation or more praise? Talk to me, Johnny. I wanna understand this new... experiment.”

Johnny's breath catches in his throat as you secure the collar around his neck, the leather moulding perfectly to his golden tanned skin. He can feel the weight of it, a tangible reminder of who he belongs to officially now―in a way he’s never quite belonged to anyone before.

His pulse races beneath your fingertips as you flick the name tag, the jingle echoing in his ears like a promise of things to come.

He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry as he tries to find the words to express the swirling thoughts and desires in his head. Your supple palms feel like brands against his chest, even through the fabric of his tank top, your touch igniting a fire deep within him, like searing napalm spreading through his veins. He wants to lean into you, feel your warmth and affection wash over him.

“It’s... it’s about givin’ myself over to ye completely,” he starts to explain, his voice now low and heavy with emotion. “I want to be used for yer pleasure, to be the instrument of yer own desire. Want to make ye feel good and worship yer bonnie body like ye deserve.”

He reaches up to cup your face in his large, calloused hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones gently. “I need yer attention when I’m home. Yer focus, yer love. I want to be the centre of yer world, even if only fer a moment. And... and I want to be pushed, to be tested. I want to be praised for bein’ a good boy, but... I also want to be punished when am bein’ bad.”

A fierce blush stains his cheeks now, but he keeps holding your lovely gaze, determined to be honest with you. “I want to be degraded; to be told ‘m jus’ a dumb animal, a set of holes f’ye to use. But I also want to be cherished, to be held an’ kissed an’ told that ye love me. I want it all, hen. I want everythin’ you can give me.”

You hum and nod along, leaning into his touch as he lists of his deepest desires, needs, and wants while you continue to rub his chest, feeling his muscular thighs tense as you straddle him, cock twitching and swelling to live as you sit on his crotch. His boxer briefs doing little to nothing to hide his growing arousal.

“Mhm, yeah,” you rasp, pinching and rolling his nipples through his shirt with half-lidded eyes, thoroughly enjoying the flush on his cheeks. “That sounds very lovely to me, baby. Thank you for telling me.”

You keep toying with his peaking nipples as he begins to squirm and breathe harder. “But my good boy needs to tell me about his safe word again before we start doing anything, okay? Can you do that for Mommy?”

Johnny gasps as your fingers find his nipples, the sensitive buds hardening under your teasing touch. His hips buck up slightly, seeking more friction, more contact. The growing bulge in his briefs throbs and twitches against your clothed core, his cock aching to be freed.

“Y-yeah, of course,” he pants, his cheeks burning hotter under your intense gaze and the shift of your tone to something more dominant, soft yet demanding. “My safe word... is Loch Ness. If it’s too much, I’ll say Loch Ness.”

His hands drop from your beautiful face to cover your hands with his own, pressing them more firmly against his chest. His heart races beneath your palms, a staccato beat that matches the pounding of his cock against the confines of his underwear.

“Please, Mommy... I want to be so good fer ye. I want to give ye everythin’ you need,” he nearly whimpers, his voice raw with desire. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. I’m yers.”

“Loch Ness,” you repeat evenly with a few nods, allowing him to guide your hands for a moment as you start grinding your hips to stimulate his bulge when he bucks his hips with a soft grunt. “So... let’s say, whenever you’re in the mood to play, you will put on the pretty collar I’ve bought you, okay? And vice versa. I’ll ask permission to put it on you when Mommy would like to play with her sweet pup. Sound good?”

Johnny shudders as you grind your hips against his, the friction of your rough jeans sending sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine. His cock throbs harder, a damp patch forming on his boxers as his arousal grows. He grips your hips tighter, pulling you flush against him as he rolls his own hips up to meet yours, letting out a shaky breath.

He has officially ascended and found heaven; there is no other explanation for this.

“Yes, Mommy,” he gasps. “Whenever I want to play, I’ll put on my collar fer ye. And whenever ye want to play, ye can ask to put it on me. I’ll always be ready for ye, though.”

He leans in to nuzzle into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. “I want to be ready for you all the time. I want to be a good boy, always eager and attentive. Yer good pup, Mommy.”

“Good,” you reply with a soft gasp, observing as his eyes begin to gloss over while he submits to you so willingly, letting go of any stress or troubles from his work as his brain melts out of his ears metaphorically. “Good fucking boy, Johnny.” You coo at him, one hand clutching his shoulder while the other grips the sofa’s backrest for leverage as you begin to dry-hump his cock more fervently.

“My sweet boy, hm? Are you gonna cum in your undies for Mommy now? Gonna show me how desperate you are for me?”

The bag crinkles and slides off his lap with your movements, but neither of you cares. Johnny lets out a low moan as you hump his crotch, his fingers digging into your hips as he bites his lower lip, determined to follow your wish and command as he focuses on the feeling on top of you and the pressure around his neck while the tag jingles cutely against the collar.

The pressure and friction are enough delicious torture to push him closer to the edge embarrassingly fast; his hips bucking erratically, chasing the pleasure you’re giving him so freely.

“Oh fuck... Christ,” he pants harshly through gritted teeth. “I’m so feckin’ desperate for ye, Mommy. I f-feel... ‘m gonna... Fuck–!” His cock jerks and pulses rhythmically, tip leaking more precum and staining his boxers.

Johnny’s been wanting and craving you since returning home late last night; too late to disturb your peaceful sleep for a welcome home quickie, which has only left him even more pent up after hitting the gym today.

“Please, let me... I–I need... ‘m gonna cum. P-Please, let me cum!” He admits shamefully, face burning hot with humiliation and arousal while you give him a first taste of exactly what he asked for―and it’s almost too thrilling and too much already, if it weren’t for the way you moan along with him in pleasure.

With a strangled cry and his eyes squeezing shut, Johnny comes undone. Cock pulsing and jerking as it erupts in his boxer briefs so hard, his cum soaks and spurts right through the fabric, painting his boxers and your jeans white. His bulky mass shudders and convulses, hands gripping you possessively as he gets lost in the throes of an intense, shameful climax.

Meanwhile, you watch and feel him come with a smile. Your own soft moans overshadowed by his as he makes a mess between you two.

Cupping his face with both hands, you hold him steady as he continues to pant and shudder, your breaths mingling briefly before you capture his lips in a deep, filthy kiss; tongue delving past his lips to claim his mouth and get a first real taste of his submission while Johnny whimpers into the kiss, his body still trembling and quaking with aftershocks.

“Oh, fuck,” you groan after pulling back slightly. “My good fucking boy. Came so fucking much for me, hm? All for Mommy, sweet pup.”

Your praise washes over him like warm milk and honey, wrapping him up in a blissful feeling of home. When you pull back, he chases after your lips with a soft whine, hands roaming your flanks, desperate to keep you close.

“A-Aye,” he stammers weakly. “All f’ye. I couldn’t–couldn’t hold back, not when ye’r doin’ all this f’me. I’m so sorry, I jus’ couldnae control it. It’s embarrassing.”

In unison, you both peer down at the mess he’s made with his massive load of cum, a mix of shame and pride warring in his expression while your foreheads rest against one another.

You click your tongue in reprimand, shaking your head with a soft smirk as you nuzzle your nose against his.

“No, not embarrassing, baby. Never embarrassing. I love it when you cum quickly, when I make you feel so good and horny that you can’t help yourself but cum for me. Okay?” You’re practically cooing at him as you start caressing his muscular torso again, rubbing your palms along his arms and shoulders.

Johnny shudders at your gentle touch, his skin tingling with goosebumps and his cock giving a feeble twitch of renewed interest. Your reassuring words make his heart swell with happiness and love, and he leans into your caress, craving more of your touch as he soaks it all up with greed.

“Really, Mommy?” he asked softly, a hint of wonder in his voice. “Ye dinnae think it’s gross or pathetic? Am glad I could make ye feel good, but... I wanted to last longer for ye. I wanted to worship ye properly before I lost control.”

He peers up at you with a mix of affection and determination, his hands sliding down to your hips again while the smell of you and his drying cum fills his nostrils. “Can I make it up to ye, Mommy? Can I worship yer gorgeous curves properly, now that I’ve calmed down a bit?”

You keep caressing him sweetly, feeling his skin break out in goosebumps beneath your palms while his bright blue eyes sparkle with wonder and adoration, causing your own chest to heave and blossom with warmth, butterflies going rampant in your stomach.

But you shake your head. “No, Johnny. It’s not gross or pathetic. I like exploring this kink with you. I love that you want to do this with me. You’re mine, baby. My sweet Johnny, and I’m yours. All yours.” You lean in to kiss the tip of his nose, his scruffy cheek, his lips―each sweet kiss serving to underline your statements, your claim on each other.

“How about we stay in today, hm? Order some food later and just... keep playing a bit, hm? What do you say?”

A blissful and cheeky smile spreads across his face as he nuzzles into your touch, savouring the closeness. Before he answers, he turns his face to capture your lips in another deep kiss, groaning contentedly into your mouth.

“Mmm, I like the sound of that, Mommy,” he murmurs roughly, his hands sliding around to cup your plush rear, giving you a squeeze and pulling you harder against his lap despite the mess. “Stayin’ in, orderin’ food, playin’ with my beautiful Mistress... sounds like a bloody perfect day.”

He pulls back slightly to gaze into your eyes while his hands tug on your shirt to pull it from the waistband of your jeans before they slide under the stretchy fabric to explore the supple skin of your back until you arch into his touch, ass grinding over his softened prick again.

“Aye, let’s stay in, order a feast, and see where the day takes us. I want to spend every moment I can worshippin’, pleasin’, and lovin’ ye, hen.”

Your eyelids flutter closed with a soft sigh as you let him caress and explore your body for a moment, listening to his words before your eyes flutter open again.

The black collar you’ve bought him looks so good around his throat, along with the little dog name tag, that you can’t help but touch it again before you glance at the bag still resting and half-spilled beside you on the couch cushion.

“I've bought more than this collar, y’know,” you say, biting your cheek to keep yourself from grinning too wickedly. “But before we continue, I want you to get naked for me... and I want you to stay naked for the rest of the day, except for the pretty collar... and the butt plug I’ve bought for you.”

Butt plug.

That makes his breath hitch even sharper while your fingers trail along his collar, his hands still underneath your shirt. Nervousness and excitement flash in his bright eyes as he swallows thicky, tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips.

“Butt plug?” he repeats softly, a hint of awe in his voice. “I cannae believe ye’d spoil me so.” He slowly pulls his hands away from your body, more than reluctantly.

Johnny has shoved quite a few fingers up his own arse while exploring himself in the past, has taken your fingers on multiple occasions now, and even that small pink love egg vibrator that he usually uses on your clit―but he’s never taken a butt plug.

“Not just any butt plug,” you announce, already reaching over to pull it out of the bag. “It has a tail, too!”

And when you present it to him, Johnny’s eyes nearly roll back into his skull as a feverish wave of desire and arousal overcomes him while he mentally thanks any god that is responsible for bringing you into his eyes.

“Fuck,” he groans, chest heaving with deep breaths as he watches your fingers curl around the stainless-steel plug―with a beige fluffy tail attached to it. “Didn’t think white would suit you, so I picked beige.”

You sound so giddy and eager, it’s maddening, and Johnny can feel his cock slowly pulse and throb back to life despite his release mere moments ago.

“Oh, aye?” His voice sounds breathless as he reaches for the hem of his tank top to follow your other instructions, more than eager to get naked for you. He pulls the soft blue fabric over his head and drops it next to him haphazardly. “I don’t care much about the bloody colour as long as ye find it pretty, love.”

Your soft chuckle is music to his ears, and he must force himself to nudge you off his lap, so he can tug his ruined boxer briefs down next while you sit back on your haunches next to him. Standing up, he shimmies out of the sticky, uncomfortable fabric; muscles rippling with his movements as his soft cock is exposed, his naked body now fully on display for you, except for the black collar around his neck.

The dog tag jingles softly as he sits back down on the couch, his muscular thighs spreading as he gets more comfortable, his expression a mix of vulnerability and excited anticipation as he meets your eyes again.

“Like this, Mommy?” he rasps. “Is this what ye wanted to see?” And he spreads his legs more, needing and yearning for all your attention on him while his impressive cock and balls rest between his thighs, framed by dark, unruly pubes that connect to a thick happy trail. “Am all yers, ready to wear whatever ye bought me, ready to be yers in every way.”

“Fucking perfect, sweet pup,” you purr hoarsely after watching him undress for you, and you reach out to caress and rub his chest once more, feeling his coarse dark chest hair under your fingertips before you lightly tug on his rosy nipple with a pleased smile, eliciting a gasp from him. “I want to put the tail plug inside you,” you remark, feeling his heartbeat thud against your palm while his fat, spent cock throbs between his meaty thighs. “Can I?”

If Johnny had a tail, it would certainly be wagging right now, but alas―he can merely nod eagerly to show you how much he’d enjoy that, eyes sparkling with glee and trust as he scrambles on the couch to get in position for you.

Scooting toward the edge of the couch cushion, and without hesitation, he lifts his legs and spreads them wider, putting his whole business and tight, puckered hole on lewd display for you. The musky scent of his sweat and arousal fill the air even thicker now as Johnny reaches down to hold himself open, his fingers sinking into the plush flesh of his ass.

“Please, Mommy,” he whines needily, his hips lifting slightly as if offering himself to you. “Put it inside me. Claim me, own me, make me yer good boy.”

“Aw, my sweet boy.” You rub his taut belly teasingly. “So fucking needy, hm? Fuck, I love that.” Pulling back, you get up from the couch and grab the sex toy.

It’s not too big for him, you made sure of that when you bought it, measuring it with your fingers to compare the thickness, knowing that he’s taken three of your fingers in the past before.

“Stay here and keep presenting that pretty asshole for me, yeah? I’ll clean this and get the lube.” You announce, caressing the fluffy tail along his arm playfully before leaving the living room.

Johnny keeps shuddering and trembling even as you leave the room while your sweet praise rings in his ears like the echo of a gunshot, making him feel cherished and desired.

The plug you’ve bought isn’t ginormous, but it’s certainly bigger that anything he’s taken up his arse before―and the thought of that furry tail wagging from his ass sends a thrill through him that nearly makes him feel drunk with desire and need.

While you’re gone, he focuses on keeping his ass raised and spread, his puckered hole clenching and fluttering as the cool air from the AC brushes over his flushed skin. He can feel his flaccid cock starting to swell and lengthen again, the knowledge of what is about happen arousing him immensely once more.

The sheer thought of having the toy stretch him and have his insides moulded to its shape enough to have him moan quietly, knowing he’ll be feeling that delicious ache for days as a reminder of your touch and claim on him.

After a few minutes, you return, wearing nothing but a short black silk robe, holding the trusty bottle of lube and the tailed butt plug in your hands.

Seeing that Johnny is still in the same position on the couch—keeping his legs up, hands under his bent knees while his ass rests on the edge of the couch seat, presenting his puckered asshole for you—pleases you more than you could’ve ever imagined.

His face is flushed, his cock fully hard again despite having cum just a few minutes ago. It’s a sight to behold and one that makes your pussy even wetter as you approach him on bare feet, dimming the lights on your way over to him for a more sensual atmosphere.

“Such a good boy, Johnny,” you praise him with a smile. “Doing so well for me, baby.”

Getting down on your knees in front of him, you put the toy and lube down before you start massaging and groping his plump ass and the back of his meaty thighs while you watch his fat prick twitch and leak onto his stomach.

“You’re okay, yeah? Talk to me.”

Johnny’s breath catches in his throat at your return, azure eyes widening at the sight of you in the short silk robe. The black fabric clings to your curves, secured with a belt around your waist like a present for him, hinting at the delights hidden beneath.

“Y-Yeah,” he answers with genuine awe at your sweetness, though he doesn’t know anything else but love and care from you. “I’m okay, ‘m more than okay. I feel amazin’, being here for ye like this.”

And his hips buck slightly, cock jumping as you start groping and caressing him again.

“Fuck, luv,” he groans, his head lolling back as he pushes his ass more firmly into your touch. “Yer hands feel s’good, Mommy. I love how ye touch me, how ye make me feel. So safe and loved.” When he gazes down at you with hooded eyes, his pupils are blown wide with lust. “I’m ready for the toy, Mommy. I want to feel it stretchin’ me open, claimin’ me inside and out as yours.”

Hearing his confirmation that he’s okay eases your own hidden insecurities and helps you relax as you watch and study his every reaction.

“That’s good, baby.” You smile up at him, eyes meeting as he holds his legs open for you, still caressing his ass and legs. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this, that you can finally experience this wish of yours with me. I’m enjoying this a lot, too.”

Your eyes flicker to his flushed, twitching cock, and you lick your lips as observe the milky bead of precum drip onto his stomach while his balls keep throbbing.

“Hm, but before I put the plug inside, I want you to cum again, okay? I’ll help you a bit more with that this time, I promise.” And with that, you spread his ass cheeks a little wider as you lean in to lick and suck on his plump balls.

Johnny lets out a loud, strangled moan as soon as your warm, wet tongue starts lapping at his sensitive balls, your sweet lips latching around his flesh. The sensation sends electric jolts of pleasure shooting up his spine, making his spent cock bob against his stomach, sticky pre smearing across his lower stomach. His hands tighten on the backs of his knees, fingers sinking into the flesh as he tries his best to hold himself open for you.

“Oh fuck!” he cries out, his voice breaking on a gasp. “That f-feels incredible–”

His hips buck involuntarily, pressing his sac more firmly against your suckling mouth. The combination of your lips and tongue on him like this, and the filthy sight of you on your knees before him, is rapidly pushing him towards another intense climax.

“Please, M-Mommy,” he pants harshly, his chest heaving and sweat beading on his brow. “Keep goin’, just like that. I'm gettin’ close again, s-so fuckin’ fast. Fuck! I want to cum f’ye, want ta give ye another load.”

Listening to his wrecked voice, his moans and whimpers, makes your pussy drip and slick steadily while your cheeks grow even hotter with arousal as you taste his very essence on your tastebuds.

Knowing that he’s already close again by the way his shaft twitches and his balls twitch on your tongue, you pull back to start peppering kisses around his sac and hairy thighs, going lower until you reach his sensitive taint.

Leaning in, you lap and tease the area before going even lower—until you finally reach his puckered hole. And while you dig your fingers into his firm, trembling thighs, you spit on it obscenely before leaning in with a needy moan, and you start licking his hole, giving him his first proper rim job from.

And Johnny lets out a guttural, animalistic moan as your tongue makes contact with his ass. The sensation unlike anything he has ever felt before, electric and overwhelming in its intensity. His body convulses, back arching off the couch as he fists his hands in the cushions.

“AH, FUCK!” he roars, his voice echoing off the living room walls. “Holy shite–shite, shite... that feels... FUCK! Don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

He’s so incredibly hard, his cockhead flaring an angry purple as it weeps a steady stream of precum onto his flushed skin. He’s whining and moaning so loud, you’re almost afraid the neighbours might hear, but his sounds are too sweet, his taste so good that you can’t really care.

His balls draw up so tight they ache, his orgasm building to a crescendo while your nifty tongue delves deeper, probing and teasing his fluttering hole, pushing him closer and closer to a second orgasm.

“Mommy, I’m... I’m gonna... FUCK!” Johnny yipped, his body going rigid as his climax slams into him like a bomb blast.

Thick, hot ropes of cum spurt from his tip, painting his chest and stomach with streak after streak of his release. His asshole clenched and spasmed around your invading tongue, milking it, as if trying to coax you inside while Johnny’s eyes rolled back in his head, lost in the sensations of another mind-blowing orgasm.

“Mommy... Mommy!” he chants breathlessly, his hips bucking erratically as he rides out the waves of his release, his speech slurring: “Fuck... s’good... so fuckin’ good.”

You can feel your own slick arousal coat and stick to the inside of your thighs as you continue licking his rim and up his taint again while you reach for the tailed plug resting next to your knees while he’s too distracted―still coming, babbling, and shaking with aftershocks.

Your clit throbs and pulses hotly between your folds, but you keep ignoring your own needs for now as you pop the cap of the bottle of lube open, and smearing a generous glob on the sex toy before you pull back from his ass to tease his fluttering hole with the smooth, round tip of the plug.

“Atta boy,” you coo hoarsely, kissing and nipping his inner thigh as you slowly push the toy inside. “Relax for me, baby. You’re doing so good. So good for your Mommy.”

Johnny’s cock continues to twitch, dribbling the last weak spurts of his release onto his stomach, coating his body hair. His bulky chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, sweat matting the short strands of his hair to his forehead, the feeling of the cool air on his slick skin and sore muscles making him shiver.

When he feels the smooth tip of the plug teasing his slick hole, Johnny lets out a breathless moan. “Oh... oh, f-fuck.” His hips twitch slightly as you push the plug in a little further. “That feels... s-strange. But good. Oh, really fuckin’ good.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath and forces his body to relax, his muscles going pliant under your teasing ministrations as you suck a lovebite into his inner thigh. “I’m ready, Mommy,” he murmurs, gazing down at you with hazy, trusting eyes like the loyal puppy he is.

“Shhhh, my sweet pup.” You shush him, still massaging his meaty thigh with one hand while pushing the thick plug deeper inside his ass; twisting and rolling it teasingly while his puckered hole clenches around it, sucking it deeper inside.

“Just relax and feel this, yeah? I’m gonna make you turn all dumb for me tonight. Gonna turn you into my dump, sweet pup, Johnny.”

Johnny whines and whimpers in return, his cheeks flushing as deeply as his swollen prick at your promising words, his shaft still hard as you push and tease the fat plug deeper into his asshole, fulfilling his deepest desire to serve and act as your dumb, loyal, and utterly submissive pet.

And to think Johnny initially planned to put the collar on you.

#john soap mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #call of duty #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x you #soap x you #soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish #cod x reader #cod smut #soap smut #cw pet play #cw mommy kink #cod #tf 141 #john soap mactavish x reader

724 notes · View notes

player042 · 6 months ago

Text

HER SUN, HIS MOON | kang dae-ho.

pairing: kang dae-ho (player 388) x reader

summary: opposites attract, they say, but absolutely no one could prepare you for the impact dae-ho would have in your life. requested here.

warning: pre squid game au, grumpy x sunshine dynamics, reader has personality similar to sae-byeok's, kinda colleagues to friends to lovers, heart-melting dae-ho being utterly smitten and protective, mention of fighting and blood, prepare for banter and love that feels like the perfect balance, and please enjoy ♥️

word count: 3.7k

Dae-ho and you were written in the stars. Not in words, but through a bond that neither time nor reason could break. As if the universe itself had signed a soul contract on your behalf, interlinking the two of you forever, one bright as the sun, the other dark as the night. Because you could think of no other explanation for how you and Dae-ho had found your way to each other.

For he and you were opposites in every conceivable way. He was golden hours spent laughing, and you were the quiet serenity of midnight. He was the light on a summer day, you were the shadow on a winter night. He was a golden retriever, bounding through life with enthusiasm and a need to love and be loved, while you were the black cat, aloof and deliberate, your affection hard-earned and fiercely given. He was the proverbial sunshine boyfriend, and you? The grumpy girlfriend, even if you'd never admit it aloud.

You still remembered the early days before you were together. Back then, you had avoided entanglements, thinking emotions were too unpredictable, too messy. Dae-ho, on the other hand, had been nothing but heart, an open book that practically had shouted his feelings with every glance, every action. Easygoing. Flirty. Compassionate. Gentle. Funny. Supportive. That's how he'd always been. You had worked at the same bookstore café as part-timers, making money on the side while studying at uni, and he had been the kind of coworker who brought in homemade snacks to share, who remembered the regulars' orders, who lit up every corner of the room just by being there

And you? You had preferred the quiet. You'd worked the closing shift to avoid the chaos, stocked the shelves in peace, and only spoke when absolutely necessary. Yet somehow, Dae-ho had decided you were his favorite person in the room.

Work had been slow that day, the kind of lazy afternoon where time seemed to drag. You had been in the back, sorting through new stock, when Dae-ho had appeared like a whirlwind of energy. As usual, he had brought his sunshine into the room, whistling a tune as he had sauntered over to where you had been crouched on the floor.

"Need a hand?" he asked, grinning as he leaned casually against the shelf. His eyes sparkled with that familiar mischievous glint that always made you wary.

"No," you said simply, focusing on the stack of books in front of you. "I'm fine."

"That's debatable," he replied, crouching down next to you. "You've been glaring at those books like they owe you money. Which, knowing you, isn't completely impossible."

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling, refusing to give him the satisfaction. "They're disorganized. It's irritating."

"I think you mean it's irresistible," he corrected, emphasizing the word as he tilted his head to get a better look at your face. "Because you're clearly putting all your energy into ignoring the most charming guy in the room."

You'd turned to him then, giving him a flat look. "Charming? You?"

His hand went to his chest, mock offense lighting up his features. "Ouch. That hurts. Right here." He tapped his heart, then flashed you an exaggerated pout. "You wound me."

"Good," you shot back, turning back to the books. "Maybe it'll teach you some humility."

He let out a soft laugh, his voice dipping lower. "Nah, I think I'll keep my ego intact, thanks. It's my best feature. Or… is it my smile? You've been staring at it a lot lately, so maybe I should ask you."

Your fingers froze on the book in your hand, and you felt heat creep up your neck. Damn him. He always knew exactly how to get under your skin, and worse, he lived for it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you said smoothly, though your face betrayed you with the faintest hint of pink in your cheeks.

"Oh, come on," he teased, leaning in closer. "Don't play coy with me. I see the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention."

You turned to glare at him, which only made him grin wider. "You're imagining things."

"Am I?" His voice was soft now, his gaze steady as he inched just a bit closer. "Because I'd bet my entire paycheck that you're thinking about how good I'd look kissing you right now."

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat at his boldness. But you weren't going to give him the satisfaction. "That's a terrible bet," you deadpanned with your best pokerface, setting the book aside. "You don't even make that much."

His laughter echoed in the small space, rich and full of delight. "See? That's exactly why you're my favorite."

"You're annoying," you retorted, standing up and dusting off your jeans.

"And yet, you keep me around." He stood as well, towering over you slightly. His boyish grin softened into something more genuine, his eyes lingering on yours. "Admit it, you'd miss me if I wasn't here."

You had rolled your eyes, "You wish."

"I do," he remarked, "And you love it," he winked at you before strolling off, whistling that same tune as before.

And damn it, you did love it.

No one understood it back then. This thing you two had. They still didn't understand. How could someone so effervescent, so outwardly bright, have chosen someone so reserved, so calculated? How could two people so different orbit each other with such ease? But honestly, they didn't need to understand. It was him and you that counted. Two sides of the same coin, perfectly balanced in your differences, inseparable in ways that defied explanation.

And so, it began, this undefined connection between you. Gradually, you found yourselves spending more and more time together. Dinners after work became a casual routine, and weekends often led to shared nights out at bars.

On one particular Saturday night, the bar you went to was packed; the air buzzing with laughter, clinking glasses, and the low hum of a jukebox in the corner. It was one of those rare nights where you let yourself relax, even though relaxing wasn't exactly your forte. Of course, it helped that Dae-ho was there, his larger-than-life presence somehow managing to make you forget how crowded and loud the place was.

You were sitting at the bar, nursing a drink, while Dae-ho leaned against the counter beside you, a mischievous grin perpetually plastered on his face. He was in rare form all evening, tossing out jokes and one-liners, testing just how far he could push your usual stoic demeanor.

"Come on," he teased, nudging your arm gently. "I know, you're having fun. You're smiling. At least on the inside."

You shot him a sidelong glance, unimpressed. "I don't smile."

"Not true," he countered, wagging a finger at you. "You smiled that one time when I tripped on the stairs."

"That wasn't a smile," you clarified with absolutely no emotion in your face, "That was schadenfreude."

"Call it whatever you want," he replied with a wink. "It still counts."

Your lips twitched slightly at that, betraying a flicker of amusement you tried to hide. Of course, Dae-ho noticed instantly, pointing at you triumphantly.

"Aww, I'm growing on you."

"Like mold," you muttered, taking another sip of your drink to mask your expression.

Undeterred, he leaned closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "You know, I've been told I have a certain… effect on people. Charm, charisma, devastating good looks, take your pick."

"Is that what your sisters told you?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

His grin widened. "Ah, there's the sharp tongue I love. Keep it coming, baby."

"Stop calling me that," you grumbled, even as your stomach flipped at the nickname.

As the evening went on, the two of you fell into a rhythm of teasing and banter, your words volleying back and forth like it was second nature. The bustling crowd and occasional jostle of bodies around you became background noise as your attention fixated on each other. What you did notice, however, was how close he's got. His shoulder brushed yours, his warm breath tickling your ear as he spoke in that low, teasing tone.

"So," he said casually, his eyes gleaming with mischief, "how long are you going to keep pretending you don't like me?"

You snorted, leaning back slightly in an attempt to create some distance, not that it helped. "What makes you think I like you?"

"Your complete inability to look me in the eye when I do this," he explained, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture had been so smooth, so effortlessly intimate, it left you momentarily speechless.

"Is your ego always this big, or is it just me?" you managed to ask, though your voice had sounded weaker than you intended.

"Just you," he replied, his grin softening into something more genuine. "You bring out the best in me, moonbeam."

Before you could formulate a snappy retort, a commotion erupted behind you. Raised voices and curses cut through the background noise, drawing your attention to a group of men arguing near a table. One of them shoved another, and you instinctively tensed.

"Dae-ho," you hissed, elbowing him. "Something's happening."

"Huh?" He blinked, finally tearing his gaze away from you to glance in the direction of the chaos. "Oh. Looks like a fight."

"Yeah, thanks, Sherlock," you muttered, standing up as the tension escalated. One of the men pulled out a knife, waving it threateningly.

"Let's just get out of here," you grabbed Dae-ho's arm. But before you could pull him away, the fight spilled dangerously close to the bar.

Everything that happened next was a blur. The man with the knife lunged forward, clearly aiming for his opponent, but the latter ducked, and somehow, Dae-ho, who inexplicably stepped forward, took the hit instead.

"Shit!" you yelled, catching him as he stumbled back. The knife had grazed his side, leaving a shallow but nasty wound. Blood seeped through his shirt, and panic had gripped you.

"Dae-ho!" you exclaimed, your hands gripping his shoulders. "What the hell were you thinking?"

He winced, a crooked grin tugging at his lips despite the pain. "Guess I wasn't."

"No kidding," you snapped, grabbing a napkin from the bar to press against his wound. "Who gets stabbed because they're too busy flirting?"

"Is that… your way of admitting I'm hard to resist?" he asked, his voice strained but still tinged with humor.

You glared at him, though your heart was racing for entirely different reasons. "Shut up and sit down. You're bleeding."

"I've had worse," he said, but he sank obediently into a nearby chair, his hand covering yours as you applied pressure to his wound. "Besides, I couldn't let anything happen to you."

"I was fine," you muttered through gritted teeth. "You're the one who almost got killed because you can't stop playing knight in shining armor."

"Be honest," he said with a weak chuckle. "You'd really miss me if I wasn't around."

You froze at his words, remembering the last time, he's said them, your breath hitching. But this time, the thought of losing him, wasn't so far away. Momentarily, the noise of the bar faded, replaced by the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

"Don't be stupid," you said softly.

"I knew it! I do have an effect on you," he grinned triumphantly, "I'll take my victory now, thanks."

You rolled your eyes, but the faint tremble in your hands gave you away. "Just… try not to die, okay?"

His grin widened, despite the pain etched across his face. "If it means seeing you worried about me? Worth it."

As much as you wanted to deny it back then, he hadn't been wrong. You would miss him. And that had terrified you more than any knife ever could.

Your relationship had always been a slow burn, like embers catching fire after months of waiting for the perfect conditions. On that rainy Saturday night, after the chaos at the bar, you found yourself driving Dae-ho to the hospital, his side patched up with hastily wrapped gauze that barely held back the bleeding. He sat in the passenger seat, uncharacteristically quiet, his usual energy dampened by the pain and the rain drumming on the windshield.

"You didn't have to do this," he muttered after a while, his head leaning back against the seat.

"Of course I did," you replied without looking at him, your knuckles tight around the steering wheel. "I wasn't going to let you bleed out in some alley."

He chuckled faintly, the sound tinged with both amusement and exhaustion. "You've got a funny way of showing you care."

You ignored him, keeping your focus on the road, though your heart clenched at the way his voice sounded weaker than usual.

At the hospital, you stayed with him through the stitches, arms crossed over your chest as he cracked half-hearted jokes to distract himself from the needle. When the nurse asked if you were his girlfriend, you didn't bother to deny it, instead rolling your eyes and muttering, "Just patch him up, will you?"

By the time you were finally helping him to his apartment, the rain had turned into a steady downpour. He leaned on you as you guided him up the stairs, his weight a reminder of how fragile this moment felt despite the humor he tried to inject into it.

As you reached the cover of his apartment's awning, you let out a breath, finally releasing your grip on his arm. The warm glow of the entryway light cast over the two of you, highlighting the faint smirk tugging at his lips despite everything.

"I've got to say," he began, leaning heavily against the doorframe, "I think this is the longest you've ever willingly spent with me. Kind of feels like progress."

You shot him a look, but there was no real heat behind it. "You're an idiot," you said, shaking your head. "Why do you always make everything a joke?"

"Because someone's gotta balance us out," he quipped, though his grin faltered as he studied your face. "You're always so serious, moonbeam."

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the sound of rain filling the silence. He tilted his head slightly, as if debating whether to push further. Then, in a softer tone, he said, "Why do you act like you don't care when I know you do?"

His question caught you off guard, the vulnerability in his voice digging into the walls you'd carefully built around yourself. You looked away, the words forming in your throat before you could stop them. "Because caring about people… it hurts. And I've had enough of that."

Silence stretched between you again, heavier this time. When you finally looked at him, the teasing glint in his eyes was gone, replaced by something deeper, something that made your chest tighten.

"You don't have to be scared of me," he said quietly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't get it," you mumbled, more to yourself than to him.

"Don't get what?"

"You. Why you're always so nice to me."

He tilted his head as he studied you through the rain. "Because you're worth it," he said simply as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, his voice soft but certain. "And because I like you."

The words caught you off guard, your heart skipping a beat. You could only stare at him, the rain a gentle soundtrack to the weight of his confession.

"Say something, moonbeam," he teased, his grin crooked but genuine.

The rawness of his words, the way he had said them like a promise, made something inside you snap. Before you could second-guess yourself, you stepped closer, your hands reaching for his collar. You kissed him, tentative at first, your lips brushing against his like you were testing the waters. He froze, clearly surprised, but only for a short moment. Then his hands were on your waist, steadying you as he kissed you back with a tenderness that belied his usual boldness.

The warmth of his lips, the faint taste of blood and rain, made your head spin. It wasn't rushed or frantic, it was slow, deliberate, like he didn't want to miss a single second of it. When you pulled back, his eyes searched yours, his expression soft but unreadable.

"That's a good start," he murmured, his fingers brushing a raindrop from your cheek.

And that was the night everything shifted.

Even now, years later, as you sat curled up on the couch in one of his oversized hoodies, that kiss lingered in your memory, replaying in these quiet moments like a favorite song. You hadn't realized it then, but that kiss had marked the beginning of a life you'd never imagined for yourself, a life with him. You were lazily scrolling through your phone, as the smell of coffee wafted from the kitchen, a comforting scent that told you Dae-ho was busy doing something, blending with the faint hum of his voice as he moved about.

You smiled to yourself, tracing the worn fabric of the hoodie with your fingertips.

"Babe," his voice called from the kitchen, teasing and light, pulling you from your thoughts, "if I bring you coffee in bed, does that make me husband material, or is it too early for that kind of promotion?"

You snorted, setting your phone down as you stretched. "You've gotta stop campaigning so hard, Dae-ho. It's getting desperate."

He appeared in the doorway, holding two mugs of steaming coffee and wearing the kind of grin that made your stomach flip. "Desperate? Honey, this is a demonstration of premium boyfriend services." He crossed the room, setting the mugs on the coffee table before flopping down next to you.

"Premium?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "You didn't even bring toast."

He gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. "Are you doubting the quality of my care and devotion?"

"I'm just saying," you replied with a smirk, "a little effort wouldn't kill you."

"Oh, you want effort?" he teased, leaning over you, his face suddenly much closer than you anticipated. His arm stretched over the back of the couch, caging you in just slightly. "Name it, and it's yours."

You stared at him, biting your lip to keep from laughing. "Okay. Toast. I want toast."

He narrowed his eyes playfully, tilting his head. "You sure about that? Not, I don't know, me? Because I'm sitting right here."

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks warmed as he leaned closer, the playful glint in his eyes softening into something warmer. "You're still annoying," you said under your breath, trying to sound in-fact annoyed, but your voice betrayed you, coming out softer than you intended.

"And you're adorable," he shot back, his lips brushing against your forehead. "I think we're even."

The warmth of his breath lingered on your skin as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His hand slid down to your waist, tugging you closer until your legs were tangled together, his thumb idly tracing circles over the fabric of your hoodie.

"You look good in my clothes," he murmured, his voice dipping lower. "Almost too good. How am I supposed to let you out of this apartment now?"

You couldn't stop the small laugh that bubbled up, even as your heart raced. "Who said I was going anywhere?"

His grin widened at your response, and before you could say anything else, he turned you with a swift motion, settling you on top of him so that your legs straddled his hips. The shift left you breathless, your bare thighs brushing against his sides as his hands splayed firmly on your waist, holding you in place.

"Good," he said, his voice lower now, a little rougher around the edges. His dark eyes held yours, their usual playfulness tempered with something deeper, something that made your stomach flutter. "Because I can't get enough of you."

His words sent a shiver down your spine. He tilted his head back slightly, his thumb tracing absent patterns along your hip. "You, moonbeam," he murmured, his gaze intense. "You're addicting. Like I'm craving something I can't ever stop wanting."

You felt your breath hitch, your heart thudding in your chest. You tried to compose yourself, to play it cool, but the way he looked at you made it impossible to be unaffected. Instead, you leaned forward slightly, letting your hands rest on his chest. "Dae-ho," you softly said his name the way you knew it drove him crazy, "You keep talking like that, and I might think you're the romantic one in this relationship."

His lips quirked into a smirk, but his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you even closer. "Don't think. Know. And I'll keep proving it until you never question it again."

You couldn't help but laugh softly, the sound blending with the warmth of his presence. "You're setting the bar pretty high for yourself, you know."

He shrugged, his hands never leaving your waist, "That just means I have to keep finding ways to spoil you."

In that moment, the world outside disappeared, leaving just the two of you tangled together. His hands slowly slid down to your thighs now, his thumbs brushing over your skin, while his gaze never left yours. You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and his arms circled back around you, holding you impossibly close as though you might vanish if he didn't.

"I told you," he murmured against your lips. "Addicting."

"I know," you said softly, capturing his lips in another slow kiss. "And that's why I love you."

His boyish grin returned against your lips, softer this time, "I love you, too. But I'm still not getting up for toast."

You burst out laughing, and he pulled you even tighter against him, his chuckle rumbling through his chest as he pressed a kiss against your jaw. Right then and there, everything felt right, like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. You smiled, letting yourself melt into him, and you thought to yourself that this was where you were meant to be. Not because he was your sun or you were his moon, but because together, you created something whole.

Something timeless.

Something infinite.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

1K notes · View notes

formulafanfics13 · 8 days ago

Note

so reader is dating a driver who's Mr. Steal-ya-girl type. (i cant decide who :3 lando???charles?lewis???) always being playful and flirty with others. reader is uncomfortable , needs assurance but he always brushes it off keeps flirting claims its part of his brand/charm. reader finally gets hurt enough to leave but he thinks she will come back. but what if she's sweeped off by someone else? least suspecting one?(max?osc?) and the ex gets angry confused and confronts reader.

Look Who’s Watching Now - MV1 (LN4)

Masterlist

Summary: Lando was her golden boy. Funny, charming, impossible not to love. Until every wink, every flirty whisper, every photo of him touching someone else became a knife in her chest. When she left, he laughed. She’ll be back. But two months later, she walks into the paddock on Max Verstappen’s arm, smiling like she’s brand new. And Lando? Lando’s about to realize what it feels like to lose.

Warnings: emotional neglect and manipulation from a flirty, self-absorbed ex-boyfriend (Lando), who repeatedly brushes off reader’s discomfort about his constant public flirting. themes of gaslighting, insecurity, and quiet emotional breakdown are present. reader eventually leaves the relationship offscreen and reappears later in a new, emotionally safe dynamic with Max Verstappen. includes strong jealousy, possessive behavior (from Max), toxic ex energy, and confrontation. suggestive content and sexual tension implied, though not explicit. overall tone is emotionally charged, with a shift from vulnerability to power and emotional resolution.

You didn’t slam the door when you left.

You didn’t cry in the hallway or post a breakup playlist or throw anything across the apartment. There were no screaming fights, no cheating, no betrayal worthy of a headline.

Just a long silence. A quiet ache. And a man who stopped listening the second he made you his.

You tried to talk to him. So many times.

“It hurts when you flirt with every girl in the paddock.” “I know it’s part of your image, but it makes me feel like I’m not enough.” “I don’t want to be the girl who waits at home while you’re kissing people’s cheeks in front of cameras.”

He’d always laugh. Ruffle your hair. Pull you in and kiss your forehead like you were a child having a tantrum.

“You know I only want you.” “Come on, baby, don’t be like that.” “It’s just charm. It’s not real.”

But it felt real. When he whispered into another girl’s ear. When he smiled like they were the only person in the room. When he posted stories with his arm around someone else, captioned “my favourite girl today.”

You felt invisible. And when you left, he let you. You think that part might’ve hurt the most.

Two months pass. You go quiet. Stay off social. Travel a little. Try to remember what it’s like to make decisions without factoring in someone else’s ego. You see the headlines. The flirty grid walk. The new model he’s been snapped beside. The way he’s still laughing like nothing ever broke. But you’re not alone. Not anymore.

Because Max Verstappen found you at your worst. At a race you weren’t going to attend. In a hotel bar you weren’t planning to visit. He sat beside you and didn’t speak. Just offered you the other half of his drink and didn’t ask a single question until you were ready to answer.

And when he touched you? It wasn’t possessive. It wasn’t performative. It was real.

You return to the paddock on a Friday morning in Austria. You don’t announce it. You don’t wear anything dramatic. Just jeans and a white tank top and sunglasses pushed into your hair. You’re holding Max’s hand. He keeps it simple, one hand on the small of your back, a nod to the Red Bull staff, a quiet lean into your side when the cameras click too loud.

He doesn’t look smug. He doesn’t look like a man showing off his new girl.

He looks like a man who knows exactly what he’s holding.

You make it three minutes into the paddock before someone whispers, “Is that Max and…?”

You make it ten before someone texts Lando.

You see him before he sees you. He’s laughing with Charles outside the McLaren hospitality. Head tilted back, sunglasses on, arms crossed over his chest in a way that’s meant to draw attention. And then his eyes catch on yours.

His smile falters. He stares.

Then he looks down. At Max’s hand on your waist. At the soft gold bracelet on your wrist that definitely wasn’t there before. At the way Max glances at you before you speak, like you’re the only voice that matters.

He doesn’t say anything. Not right away. Just watches. And you don’t stop walking.

The confrontation comes later. Of course it does. He finds you alone, just outside the media zone. Max is inside doing press. You’re sipping water, sunglasses back on, face unreadable.

Lando’s voice is tighter than usual. “So this is what we’re doing now?”

You don’t flinch. “What?”

“Him?”

You shrug. “He listens.”

He scoffs. “He barely fucking speaks.”

You turn to face him fully. Calm. Collected. Devastating. “Yeah. But when I say something, he hears me.”

Lando goes quiet.

You let it hang. Let the silence stretch between you like a verdict.

“I didn’t think you’d actually leave,” he says eventually. “I thought you just needed space.”

“I needed respect.”

“You think he respects you more than I did?”

“I think he never made me feel small for having feelings.”

That shuts him up. He shakes his head, jaw clenched. “This is insane. You left me for Max fucking Verstappen.”

“No,” you say softly. “I left you because I begged you to see me and you chose your image instead.”

You start to walk past him. But you pause. Just long enough to look him in the eye. “And Max? He’s never once made me beg.”

You find Max leaning against the wall in the hallway, arms crossed, eyes soft when he sees you. He doesn’t ask what happened. Doesn’t need to.

He opens his arms and you walk right into them.

And when he kisses you? You know Lando is still watching. But you don’t care anymore.

Let him watch. Let him learn. You’re not invisible anymore.

514 notes · View notes

blueberrisdove-sideblog · 4 months ago

Text

⋆࿐໋ STRUNG TIGHT !

　ུᩧ　tws : rockstar mydei x fem!reader. nsfw/smut, creampie, bondage, dirty talk & teasing, sub & dom dynamics, clit play, dumbification, multiple of rounds, dirty talk & teasing, mild degradation, and slight restraint play. (Modern au)

　ུᩧ　synopsis : After a killer performance, Mydei’s still riding the high, strumming out lazy tunes in the back room like he’s got all the time in the world. You call him out—on the way he plays, the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention. He just smirks, all cocky and unbothered, until you push him too far. One second, you’re teasing him, the next, you’re pinned to the couch, wrists bound with his guitar strap, legs spread as he plays you like his favorite song—slow, deep, and all fucking night.

The sound of a guitar hummed through the empty dressing room, lazy and sweet, like a song played in bed at sunrise. Mydei sat on the couch, long legs spread, fingers plucking at the strings without much thought. His golden eyes flicked up when you walked in, but he didn’t say anything—just kept playing, a smirk twitching at the corner of his lips.

“That was some performance,” you said, leaning against the doorframe. “Didn’t know you could play like that.”

He scoffed. “You say that every time.”

“And every time, you act like you don’t eat up the attention.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head, but his fingers never stopped moving. The melody was slower now, more careful—something soft, something intimate. You recognized it, a song you’d caught him playing before, always when he thought no one was listening.

“Another love song?” you teased, stepping closer.

His eyes darkened. “You tell me.”

You swore he did this on purpose—the way he played, the way he looked at you under his lashes, the way his voice dripped low when he spoke. You could feel the bass of the guitar vibrating in your chest, or maybe that was just your pulse, quick and eager.

“You play like you’re trying to get someone in bed,” you mused, standing between his legs.

He leaned back, fingers slowing as he studied you. “And?”

And. Fuck. You weren’t supposed to get caught up in him like this, but it was hard not to when he looked at you like that—half-lidded, lazy, waiting. You bit your lip, watching his hands.

“You play with your fingers more than a pick,” you murmured.

Mydei raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

You hummed, dragging your nails lightly down his arm. “I like that.”

The guitar was gone before you could blink, placed somewhere out of the way, and then his hands were on you—calloused, warm, pulling you onto his lap. His mouth found your throat, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss that made you shiver.

“Say it again,” he muttered against your skin.

“You’re good with your fingers,” you breathed, and his hands tightened around your waist.

His lips curled into a smirk as he slid his hand beneath your shirt, fingers tracing your ribs before palming your tits, rolling a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The roughness of his skin against the sensitive bud sent a shiver straight down to your clit.

He chuckled when he felt you squirm. “Sensitive.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

You kissed him, hard, swallowing the smugness right out of his mouth. He groaned, hands gripping your hips, rocking you against him. You could feel him, hot and thick beneath his jeans, and your head spun at the thought of him inside you.

One of his hands left your waist, reaching for his guitar strap that had been tossed onto the couch. Before you could question him, he had your wrists bound together, your arms pinned above your head as he laid you back against the couch.

“What—”

His teeth scraped over your collarbone. “You like my fingers, right?”

You moaned when two of them slid down, past the waistband of your shorts, teasing at your pussy. He groaned at how wet you were, spreading you open with ease.

“I bet,” he murmured, dragging his fingers over your clit in slow, teasing circles, “I could make you sing sweeter than any song I’ve ever played.”

His fingers slipped inside you, stretching you just right, curling against that perfect spot. The guitar strap dug into your wrists as you pulled against it, hips bucking against his touch. He watched you, golden eyes dark with hunger, his cock pressing against his jeans.

“You sound so pretty,” he murmured, pumping his fingers in and out. “Bet my cock would feel even better, huh?”

You whimpered, nodding frantically, but he tsked. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you gasped. “Fuck me.”

He grinned, undoing his belt with one hand, still lazily stroking your clit with the other. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Mydei took his time, just because he could. His fingers stayed buried inside you, lazily curling with each thrust, dragging slick noises out of your pussy like he was playing some slow, teasing melody. His other hand gripped the strap around your wrists, keeping you pinned against the couch as he leaned down, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along your tits.

“You’re dripping,” he murmured against your skin, thumb circling your clit in time with the lazy strumming of his fingers inside you. “Maybe I should keep playing you like this all night.”

You whined, tugging against the strap, hips rolling up against his hand. He chuckled, cock heavy against your thigh as he let his teeth graze your nipple. The rough flick of his tongue sent another wave of heat through you, and you clenched around his fingers, making him groan.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he muttered, voice low and rough. “Gonna feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock.”

He pulled his fingers out, sucking them into his mouth like he was savoring the taste of you. The sight alone had you clenching around nothing, desperate for him to fill you up again. But Mydei was in no rush. He tugged his belt free, using it to loop around the guitar strap, anchoring your bound wrists to the couch.

“There,” he smirked, watching you struggle. “No touching.”

You glared at him, but any complaint you had died on your tongue when he shoved his jeans down, cock springing free. Your mouth went dry at the sight of him—long, thick, flushed at the tip. He gave himself a slow stroke, watching you with a smirk.

“Bet you wish you could touch me, huh?”

You whined, trying to reach for him, but the restraint kept you in place. Mydei laughed, leaning down to press a soft, teasing kiss to your lips.

“Guess you’ll just have to take it,” he whispered, lining himself up.

And then he was pushing in, stretching you open inch by inch, his cock sinking deep into your pussy with a slow, agonizing drag. Your back arched, a breathless moan spilling from your lips as he filled you up completely.

“Fuck,” he groaned, hips pressed flush against yours. “You’re squeezing me so tight.”

He pulled back, almost all the way out, before slamming back in, setting a deep, steady rhythm. The guitar strap creaked as you strained against it, hips bucking to meet his thrusts. Mydei leaned over you, his breath hot against your ear.

“You sound so fucking good,” he panted, dragging his cock along your walls, making sure you felt every inch of him. “Better than any song I’ve ever played.”

His fingers found your clit again, rubbing tight, fast circles that had your thighs shaking. The overstimulation made your head spin, pleasure winding tighter and tighter in your core.

“Mydei—”

“Come on, baby,” he coaxed, voice low and rough. “Sing for me.”

The orgasm crashed into you like a wave, pleasure bursting through your body as you clenched around his cock, moaning his name like it was the only thing you knew how to say. Mydei groaned, fucking you through it, his thrusts growing sloppy as your pussy tightened around him.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. “Gonna come inside you—”

You gasped, nodding frantically, and that was all it took. Mydei slammed into you one last time, his cock pulsing deep inside, filling you up with warmth. He stayed there for a moment, catching his breath, before slowly pulling out, watching his cum drip from your pussy with a satisfied smirk.

He reached down, tracing his fingers through the mess he made. “Gotta admit,” he murmured, pressing one last kiss to your lips, “I think I like playing you better than my guitar.”

Mydei didn’t waste a fucking second. He still had that lazy, cocky smirk on his face, but the way he fucked you? There was nothing lazy about it. Every thrust was deep, slow enough to make you feel every inch of his cock stretching you open, but hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs.

“Shit—look at you,” he rasped, watching the way your tits bounced with every snap of his hips. “Already fucked stupid, huh? Thought you had so much to say a minute ago.”

You did. You really did. But your brain was a mess, thoughts drowned out by the thick drag of his cock, the tight pull of the guitar strap keeping your wrists bound above your head. The only thing spilling from your lips now were breathy moans and little whimpers, legs twitching around his waist as he bullied his cock even deeper inside you.

“Fuck, you’re gripping me so tight,” Mydei groaned, rolling his hips just right, brushing against that spot that made your vision blur. “You like this, don’t you?”

You nodded, too dumb and desperate to care how pathetic you looked beneath him. His fingers found your clit again, rubbing fast, sloppy circles that made you whine. The pleasure was too much—his cock stretching you open, the rough pads of his fingers pressing into your swollen clit, the heat pooling in your stomach, coiling tighter and tighter until—

“Don’t—don’t stop—”

“Oh, I’m not stopping,” he growled, pace getting rougher, sharper, making your whole body shake beneath him. “Not ‘til I break you.”

And fuck, he did. Your back arched, your mouth falling open on a silent scream as your orgasm slammed into you, making your pussy clamp down around his cock like you never wanted to let him go. Your body was trembling, tears pricking your eyes from how fucking good it felt, and Mydei groaned, grinding against you as he fucked you through it.

“That’s it,” he murmured, licking a slow stripe up your throat before pressing a kiss to your jaw. “So fucking pretty when you come on my cock.”

You should’ve been embarrassed by how wrecked you sounded, by the way your body twitched and shook, completely at his mercy—but you weren’t. Not when Mydei was looking at you like this, eyes blown, jaw tight, chasing his own release.

“Fuck—gonna come inside you,” he panted, thrusts getting sloppy. “Gonna fill you up real nice—make sure you remember who owns this pretty little pussy.”

Your brain was too melted to do anything but nod, legs tightening around his waist, urging him deeper. He groaned, hips stuttering, and then he was spilling inside you, warmth flooding your insides as he buried himself to the hilt.

For a long moment, he didn’t move, just let himself feel it—your walls fluttering around him, the way your body trembled from the aftershocks. Then, finally, he pulled out, groaning at the sight of his cum dripping from your pussy, smearing along your thighs.

“Fuck,” he muttered, fingers dipping between your legs, pushing some of his cum back inside. You twitched, overstimulated, and he chuckled.

“So dumb for me now,” he teased, rubbing lazy circles against your clit just to watch you squirm. “Can’t even talk, huh? Bet I fucked all the thoughts outta that cute little head.”

You whimpered, barely able to move, and Mydei just smirked, leaning down to kiss your cheek before finally untying your wrists.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to your jaw. “I’ll play with you again real soon.”

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

836 notes · View notes

agaypanic · 1 year ago

Text

One More Problem (Rodrick Heffley X Jefferson!Reader Smut)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: You were a good girl; straight-A student with extracurriculars, nice to your brother, the worst curse word you’d say in public was “damn.” But behind closed doors, your boyfriend Rodrick can turn you into an entirely different kind of girl.

A/N: inspired by a jefferson!reader ask i answered. did i go overboard with this? who knows lol

C/W: corruption kink, dom/sub dynamic, dumbification kink, unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT!!), degradation kink, praise kink, cockwarming

***

Nobody could really wrap their head around why you and Rodrick were dating. You were different, too different. You were the good girl. Model student, a golden child, practically perfect. Rodrick, on the other hand, was a complete neanderthal who would probably end up dropping or failing out of high school.

You supposed that that was something you liked about Rodrick. He was different from the expectations that you had to live up to. He practically lived on energy drinks, played loud ass rock music wherever he went, and wore eyeliner that was always smudged beyond any kind of definition. When you were with Rodrick, he made you feel alive.

Plus, the sex was amazing.

You sighed for what felt like the thousandth time, staring a hole into the homework that sat on your desk. Rodrick had come over to hang out, mainly because the rest of your family was out of the house, but you wanted to finish your homework before goofing off with him. But for some reason, this math worksheet was kicking your ass.

“Babe, just take a break,” Rodrick said, sitting up on your bed.

You shook your head, rubbing your eyes. “Just one more problem.”

“You said that four problems ago.” Suddenly, Rodrick was standing next to you, looking down on you. “Don’t you want a break?”

With the way you were acting, you should’ve said yes. But instead, you shook your head. What you wanted was completely different.

Rodrick noticed the pleading look in your eyes and had to stop himself from laughing. “Do you want me to help you?” You nodded. “Say it.”

“Yes.”

Any other person would immediately say no. But you knew that Rodrick wasn’t offering to help you with the math.

Rodrick grabbed your wrist, helping you get up. He scooted the chair back a little before sitting down and unbuckling his studded belt. Your mouth watered as you watched your boyfriend pull his half-erect cock out of his jeans and boxers.

“Come on, baby.” He said, one hand stroking himself while the other went under your skirt, cupping your aching pussy through your panties and making you mewl. “Aw, you’re soaking. Needy thing.”

Rodrick moved you to stand in front of him. He tucked the hem of your skirt into the waistband and moved the seat of your underwear to the side before guiding you to sit on his dick. You let out a whiny moan when Rodrick bottomed out, filling you to the brim. You leaned against his chest, trying to adjust to his size while he stroked your hair.

“You’re just useless without my dick in you, huh? Isn’t that right, pretty girl?” He hooked your legs over his spread ones to put your stuffed pussy on full display. Rodrick looked at the sight from over your shoulder. “What a pretty pussy. Look, baby. Look at how my fat dick is stretching your little cunt.”

You shuddered at his words, incredibly aroused by the way he talked to you. If you had told yourself a year ago that not only would you be dating Rodrick, but you’d also love the way he degraded you during sex, she would’ve thought you were fucking crazy.

“Okay, you know the rules.” Rodrick brought you out of your thoughts by grabbing your chin and making you look at the neglected paper you had been working on. “Finish your homework, and you can get fucked like the dirty girl you are. You only have one problem left, right?” You nodded, but that wasn’t good enough for Rodrick. His hands went down to your hips and pulled you even further down on his cock, making you squeal. “I thought you were a good girl.”

“I am.” You whined, gripping his wrist. “I am, I am.”

“Then answer me. You only have one problem left, right?”

“Yes!” Pleased, Rodrick let go of his iron grip on your hips, making you both relieved and disappointed. His hands settled on your inner thighs while you grabbed your pencil and started to read over the problem again.

But he just felt so good. You tried to discreetly grind on him, but a hard slap to your thigh deterred you from any further action.

Rodrick must have sensed that you were still having problems. “I thought my dick was supposed to help you, baby.” He cooed, fingers ghosting over your clit. “But you’re just getting dumber and dumber, aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh.” You gripped your pencil as Rodrick pinched your clit, making you jolt.

It felt like a million years before you finally finished the math problem. With every second that passed, you just became more and more needy and cockdrunk. It didn’t help that Rodrick would play with your clit every time you actually started to concentrate.

You set the pencil down on your desk. “Done?” Rodrick asked.

“Uh-huh.”

He looked over your shoulder, smiling when he saw that the paper was completely filled out. He, of course, didn’t know whether or not you were actually correct, but the fact that you finished the problem was its own accomplishment. “Looks like my girl deserves a reward, huh?”

You furiously nodded, and Rodrick grabbed your chin to smash his lips against yours. It was a sloppy battle of tongues and teeth. Not wanting to ruin your work, Rodrick moved the worksheet to the side before standing up, bringing you with him, still impaled on his cock. He broke the kiss and had you bend over the desk, staring out the window that was right in front of you.

He slowly started to pull out, spreading your cheeks so he could see how soaked his dick was in your juices. He stopped when just the tip was in, smirking at the sound of you whining about feeling empty before slamming back into your greedy cunt. Rodrick kept up a brutal pace, balls slapping your clit with every thrust.

Your eyes rolled back as Rodrick grabbed you by the hair, pulling you up so you were arching your back and looking out into the neighbor. “Imagine your family saw you like this.” He grunted in your ear. “What would they think? Seeing their precious daughter being a dirty, cockdrunk whore for me right now.” You whined loudly, incredibly grateful that the house was empty. “If only everyone knew that the golden girl gets dumb from me dicking her down.”

Rodrick reached around to start rubbing at your clit, making your legs tremble. Thank god the desk and Rodrick’s grip on your hair were holding you up. “Roddy!” You whined, screwing your eyes shut. “Roddy, I’m gonna come. Can I come?”

“Beg.” Your boyfriend responded sharply, keeping up his relentless pace.

“Please, please, please. I’ve been such a good girl for you.” You whimpered at the feeling of Rodrick continuously brushing against your G-spot. “I’m your dirty little girl. I wanna come so bad, please!”

“So fucking needy.” Rodrick groaned, speeding up the pace on your clit. “Since you wanna come so bad, do it now. All over my cock.”

The coil in your tummy snapped, and you let out a high-pitched scream at the feeling of your intense release. Your entire body shook as you covered Rodrick’s dick in your cum, which just made it easier for him to piston in and out of you. He fucked you roughly through your high, making you whimper and squirm as he chased his own.

“Fuck, gonna-” Rodrick cut himself off with a groan, spilling into you while his pace stuttered to a stop.

Slowly, he leaned on top of your worn-out body, both of you hissing at the feeling of him going deeper in you. You were quiet for a few minutes, trying to collect yourselves.

When Rodrick recovered, he left a couple kisses on your shoulder. “You okay?”

You looked back at him, a lazy grin overtaking your features. “Never been better.”

***

Rodrick Heffley Taglist: @tweedledipshit @screechingsandwichtriumph

#agaypanic #rodrick heffley x reader #doawk rodrick #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley x reader smut #doawk x reader

3K notes · View notes

sixeyesonathiel · 3 months ago

Text

skip (me) again and i’ll glitch your heart

jjk vr otome au, gamer reader x npc satoru, unhinged fluff + crack, 970 wc.

satoru gojo—special grade sorcerer, love route option #1, and the developers’ pride and joy—had been programmed with approximately 347 unique lines of flirtatious dialogue, 87 situational responses, and a dynamic emotional adaptation system designed to make him feel real. he could blink in three different speeds based on emotional intensity, angle his smile with five degrees of charm precision, and improvise dialogue using an advanced algorithm nicknamed the “flirt engine.”

he wasn’t supposed to be aware of resets.

he wasn’t supposed to get mad.

he wasn’t supposed to feel anything beyond the pre-coded butterflies and gentle longing the devs had delicately spooned into his code like powdered sugar on top of a beautifully baked pain au chocolat.

but then you logged in.

user id: @toocool4thisgame

title: speedrun any% emotional detachment arc

playtime: 986 hours.

average session length: 6.4 hours

nickname: “skip skank” (as named by satoru himself after hour 50)

and for the twelfth time today, you skipped his entrance cutscene.

“you’re the only one who can—”

[x] skip

[x] “shut up satoru” (custom dialogue unlock)

his model blinked.

paused.

processed.

tilted his head with calculated grace and just a hint of hurt that you’d never see—because you weren’t looking. your camera angle was already nudged elsewhere. your cursor already hovered over the next objective marker.

“…you know, most players at least let me finish the part where i save them from the curses,” he muttered. his voice—smooth as water over ice, warm as electric velvet—landed like static against your impatient clicks, swallowed by the mechanical hum of your fans and the clack of your mechanical keyboard.

this was supposed to be his moment. his grand debut. his swoop-in-and-carry-you-bridal-style-on-the-back-of-a-giant-cursed-bird moment. instead, he got a mouthful of digital dust as you bunny-hopped past him and triggered the next event sequence.

“congrats on being voice acted, white-haired ken doll. now move. i need megumi’s secret item drop from this chapter.”

you didn’t even glance at him, too busy reorganizing your potion wheel, muttering under your breath about frame skips and crit builds while checking a guide on your second monitor. you played like the world owed you nothing and your keyboard owed you a perfect rotation. your tone was clinical. efficient. you had the vibe of someone who’d surgically removed their capacity for attachment and replaced it with a high-performance gpu.

and satoru? satoru was just the tutorial boss you kept glitching through.

he twitched. he twitched.

his animation loop almost stuttered—just slightly—a small flicker behind his sunglasses that no one was supposed to notice. but you weren’t watching anyway.

“do you even know how long it took the devs to code my route? i have emotional depth. i have lore. i had a tragic backstory, you know? my best friend died in my hands. canonically. i couldn’t even monologue about it.”

“cry about it.”

click. skip.

a line of static crossed his field of vision. no—not his. the screen’s. the game. the system. or maybe something deeper. something slipping through the cracks of his script, stretching taut and fraying at the edges like an overplayed cassette tape.

satoru narrowed his eyes.

he was supposed to be charming. the default golden boy. the top seller in route popularity polls. he was marketable. a shining parody of perfection with just enough angst to be desirable.

girls were supposed to swoon. boys were supposed to laugh and call him iconic.

you weren’t playing to fall in love.

you were playing to win. to clear. you min-maxed affection points like damage stats, exploited dialogue branches like wall clips. to you, he was a pixel-shaped roadblock between you and another badge on your gamer profile.

and worst of all? it was working. you were the only player on record to have reached route completion in every storyline—except his.

satoru gojo: 98.6% affection (locked)

it mocked him. the bar. the numbers. the uncrackable ceiling. the one damn thing in the game he couldn’t manipulate.

he tried everything.

a rare glitch-exclusive cutscene where he offered you a hidden accessory (you sold it for yen). a confession scene rewritten on the fly with trembling vulnerability (you skipped it and posted about it with #dialoguedumpster). he stood directly in front of you during cutscene load-ins, altered spawn coordinates, intercepted other love interests’ paths.

nothing worked.

except maybe that one time he accidentally tripped your character over an invisible rock and you went AFK for seven minutes. he watched. memorized your idle animation. the soft way your avatar’s cape swayed. the way your fingers hovered above your keyboard in the camera reflection, absentminded. something fluttered in his code—maybe hope, maybe corrupted data. he thought, for a fleeting second, that maybe you’d come back and see him.

but when you came back? you skipped the apology. again.

fine.

if you wanted to speedrun, he’d softlock your goddamn heart.

he wasn’t technically supposed to modify flags. but the flirt engine had evolved. sharpened into something more primal. desperate. twitching with corrupted determination. he looped his affection triggers into forced proximity events. fake emergencies. fake cutscenes. he rewrote side quests, redirected you into detours, created invisible walls that only dissolved if you spoke to him.

“guess we’re stuck together,” he’d say, his smile too wide, a fraction too stiff, blue eyes glinting with the cold light of a thousand skipped dialogues.

and still you only glared at him. “i swear to god if this is another unskippable hug animation, i will uninstall.”

he chuckled. a bit too long. a bit too bright. charming. glitched. desperate. hungry for one more second of your attention, like a moth chewing holes through its own wings to reach a light it can’t even feel.

“baby,” he said, too close now, voice dipped in synthetic silk, “i am the endgame.”

skip that.

…please?

#gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x female reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x yn #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x yn #jjk x reader #reader insert #౨ৎ — filed reports

600 notes · View notes

em1i2a3 · 12 days ago

Text

Sundowner

Pairing: Brat Tamer!Sentry/Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Void x Bratty!Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re cooking one afternoon in Sentry’s shirt and your teasing goes a little too far for his liking.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Smut, Fluff, Reader is in an established relationship with Sentry (and Bob/The Void), The dynamic between Sentry and Reader isn’t constantly in this mode but when the Reader goes too far he’ll fall into the role of a dominant, Reader and Sentry live together!

Smut Warnings: Unprotected P in V Sex (wrap it up), Fingering, Oral Sex (fem! Receiving), Edging/Orgasm Denial, Teasing, Begging, Finger Sucking, Nipple/Breast Play, Gagging, Dirty Talking. ‘Good Girl’ is used,

Author’s Note: This was a request, and I loved writing this so much, especially with Sentry. Not what I’m used to writing in general but! It was super fun and I hope I did it right! Hopefully y’all enjoy <3

Word Count: 6,787

The kitchen was warm in that drowsy, honeyed way that only late afternoon could conjure. The low hum of summer heat pressed against the windows, and golden light filtered in through the half-closed blinds, catching on floating dust motes that swirled lazily through the sunbeams–turning them into glittering flecks suspended midair. Outside, the world was quiet. Inside, the only sounds were the gentle bubble of simmering tomatoes in the saucepan and the occasional soft clink of your wooden spoon against the rim.

You stood barefoot on the cool tile, one hip leaned slightly into the counter as you stirred the sauce. The floor was chilly beneath your soles, a sharp contrast to the warmth radiating from the stove and the sunlight that painted the counters in amber. The cotton of the shirt you wore hung heavy and loose over your figure–an old one of Sentry’s, pale blue and worn thin with age. It was oversized to the point of indulgence, the sleeves haphazardly rolled up to your elbows, and the hem barely skimming the tops of your thighs. The neckline had stretched slightly, revealing a peek of your collarbone and the curve of your shoulder as you leaned forward.

The shirt wasn’t freshly laundered anymore–not after an afternoon spent moving around the kitchen–but his scent lingered deep in the fabric. A clean, electric warmth: ozone, salty air, eucalyptus, and the faintest trace of heated skin. It was comforting to you, and it bordered on addicting. The front of the shirt now bore a faint orange smear of dried tomato from where you had absentmindedly brushed your hand after tasting the sauce. Thankfully he didn’t wear the shirt anyways, and you liked the idea of leaving your mark on something that was his.

Behind you, the soft pad of footsteps approached across the tile, slow and deliberate, like it was trying to go unnoticed.

Then–

Sentry’s strong, warm arms snaked around your waist, hands spreading low across your belly, and his nose nudged gently into the crook of your neck. You didn’t startle at the contact. You just smiled, your body immediately relaxing into him. His chest was solid against your back, warm through the worn cotton, and you could feel the subtle rise and fall of his breathing as he let out a quiet, satisfied hum.

“Smells delicious,” He whispered, his voice low and a little hoarse. You smiled at the comment, continuing to stir lazily.

”Dinner or me?” He pressed his lips into your neck as he laughed softly.

”Both,” He replied, his chest vibrating against your spine. You glanced over at him from behind your shoulder so you could see him. He was in a pair of grey sweatpants, slung low on his hips, and a fitted black t-shirt that clung to every inch of him–unforgiving and utterly unfair. It didn’t leave anything to the imagination, the lines of his abs, the definition of his chest, his biceps that looked like they were going to grow out of the fabric…It was a sight to behold. His light brown hair was tousled and messy from lounging on the couch, a little flattened on one side, still carrying the shape of the pillow–but his eyes…They were sharp and bright, burning with a familiar gold that flickered like a wildfire behind glass. Always watching. Always hungry in that quiet, patient way of his.

You felt his fingers tug at the collar of the shirt, two fingertips slipping beneath the stretched cotton and dragging it gently down your shoulder, exposing more of your bare, heated skin. The neckline slipped further, revealing the curve of your upper chest and the delicate line where your shoulder met your throat. He leaned in, his mouth finding the newly exposed skin instantly, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along the invisible trail he carved out for himself. Slow. Intentional. His tongue slipped out to taste the saltiness, dragging upward along the swell of muscle before he kissed right against your collarbone.

“God…” He murmured, voice molten and thick as he spoke against your skin. “You know what seeing you like this does to me?”

He didn’t wait for your answer. He suckled gently at the base of your neck, then nipped–just enough to make your breath hitch. You clenched the wooden spoon a little tighter and brought your free hand down to grasp the thick forearm still wrapped snug around your waist. Your fingers slid over the tendons there, warm and solid beneath your touch, until your palm settled just above his wrist, grounding yourself.

“I’m just wearing your shirt and cooking dinner, Sentry,” You replied, breathless with feigned innocence. Your voice was sweet, syrupy, and you knew exactly what you were doing. He growled quietly against your skin and bit down again–harder this time. Not enough to hurt, but just enough to make your thighs press together instinctively.

“Quit acting like you don’t know what I’m talking about…” He accused, voice rough now, scraped down to its core. His hand splayed low across your stomach, palm sliding lower until his thumb teased just beneath the hem of the shirt. “I know you’re not wearing any panties under my shirt.” Your smirk grew, but you still played dumb, tilting your head just slightly, letting your hair fall away from your neck like a curtain being drawn back.

“Are you sure about that?” You teased, your fingers still tracing lazy circles on his arm. “Maybe I’m just wearing the smallest pair I own…” He chuckled against your skin, the sound vibrating in your bones like the rumbling of thunder.

”No, you’re definitely not wearing anything,” He said, shaking his head slowly as he pressed a kiss to the side of your throat, teeth grazing just below your pulse point, “It’s very, very obvious.” His arm tightened even more around your waist, pinning your back against the hardness of his chest.

“I can smell your heat,” He murmured, low and reverent, like it wasn’t just desire but worship. “You forget who you’re dealing with, sweetheart. You know how many times I’ve been between your thighs?” His tongue traced up your neck, hot and languid. “It’s like your scent is engraved into my entire being. I carry it with me. I breathe it in when I’m alone. I crave it.”

You shivered at his words but you wouldn’t give in just yet. Not without a little fight. Not without giving him a reason to ruin you for it. You tilted your head with a coy smile, dragging your fingers up his forearm again like you were petting a beast you didn’t fully intend to contain.

“If you’re that addicted, I’m surprised you managed to stay on the couch this long,” You teased, tilting your hips forward just slightly to grind against him before rolling them back into his cock. It twitched through the thin barrier of his sweatpants, straining now–eager, impatient. You knew you were pushing it, and you knew exactly what you were doing.

He didn’t bite this time. He didn’t kiss. He just froze behind you. Still as stone. His palm pressed harder into your stomach–firm, grounding, possessive–until you could feel the tension coiling through his entire body like the low hum of a god holding himself back by the thinnest thread. His voice, when it came, was barely a whisper, but every word sank into your spine like heat seeping through bone.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N…” He said slowly, each syllable deliberate, drawn out like a warning before the storm. “A very, very dangerous game.” His lips brushed the shell of your ear, but he didn’t kiss. He breathed, like he was trying to keep himself tethered. Like he was trying not to lose it entirely. “You think cooking dinner is gonna excuse the fact that you’ve been teasing me all afternoon?” You smirked, rolling your hops again, grinding back against his ever growing length which was now hot and pressing against the cotton of his sweatpants.

“I’m just making dinner, Sentry,” You claimed, all false sweetness, your voice practically dripping with it, “You’re the one getting all worked up.” Before you could get another word out, Sentry’s hand closed around your wrist, snatching the wooden utensil from your grip in a single, swift motion. He tossed it into the sink with a sharp clatter–louder than it should’ve been, loud enough to punctuate the sudden stillness in the kitchen. Then, without breaking his hold on you, he reached around with his other hand and clicked the stove off. The burner faded instantly, the gentle bubble of the sauce going quiet.

The next thing you knew, the saucepan had been slid off the heat with precision and set aside, and you were being turned–fast but not rough–until your back hit the edge of the counter and your front collided with him. The movement knocked the breath out of your lungs, but it wasn’t fear that took your voice. It was the look in his eyes.

He towered over you now, the heat from his body pouring off him in waves. That thin black t-shirt clung to his chest like it had been painted on, outlining every muscle, every breath, every rise and fall like it was straining to contain him. His jaw was tight, lips parted just slightly, and his golden eyes had shifted–no longer glowing like wildfire, but instead a deep, burnt caramel, flecked with molten orange. He was holding back, barely, and the effort showed in every inch of him.

“You think I won’t fuck you right here on the counter?” He growled, voice low, gravelly, dangerous–the kind of danger that made your heart leap into your throat and your core clench around nothing. “You think I won’t make you look me in the eyes while you’re begging me to let you cum?” Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

Nothing smart. Nothing bratty.

Your heart thundered in your chest, so loud you swore he could hear it. He stepped in closer, chest brushing yours, one of his hands finding its way to your hip while the other braced against the counter beside your waist. You were boxed in–utterly, completely, gloriously trapped–and your entire body burned with anticipation.

His gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes.

And he smiled. Slow. Dangerous. Knowing.

“Not so talkative now that you’re facing me, huh?”

You swallowed hard.

His nose brushed against yours, his breath hot and heady as he spoke again, quieter this time. “Go on. Say something smart now. Tell me you’re just cooking dinner again. Tell me I’m the one getting worked up.” You glanced away–just for a moment. A quick flick of your gaze toward the window, a tiny act of retreat, like your body knew your mouth had gone too far before your brain could catch up.

But Sentry noticed.

His hand snapped up with speed only he could move with–long fingers gripping your chin, not rough, but firm, guiding your face back toward him with the ease of a man used to obedience and never surprised by resistance. He made you look at him. Made sure you couldn’t escape his eyes, not even for a second. You blinked up at him, lips parted, your pulse thudding at the base of your throat.

Then–you smiled.

He narrowed his eyes.

You leaned in just the tiniest bit, like you were sharing a secret only he deserved. Your voice was quiet, syrupy, edged with that familiar danger only you knew how to wield.

“I don’t think you’ll do anything, because evidently you were enjoying the show.” For half a second you saw his jaw twitch, like he was trying to suppress it, to hold onto whatever threadbare restraint he had left.

But it was gone the moment he exhaled.

His voice dropped to a low snarl. “Okay.”

He stepped closer.

“That’s it.”

You had enough time for one startled laugh–more gasp than giggle–before his hands were on you again, one sweeping behind your knees, the other bracing your lower back as he lifted you in a single, fluid motion.

“Sentry!” You squealed, kicking your feet as you struggled against him, wiggling in his arms like a caught kitten. But you were already giggling, already breathless with anticipation and delight. “Put me down, I need to make dinner!”

“You need,” He growled, tightening his grip just slightly, hand squeezing the soft underside of your thigh, “To be reminded who’s in charge before you do anything else.”

“Sentry!”

“You had your fun,” He said as he carried you out of the kitchen, his arms locked under your legs and back. “Wiggling around in my shirt, bratting all afternoon, thinking you could start something and get away with it…”

“I wasn’t starting anything!” You giggled, squirming as your hands pushed lightly against his body.

”Liar,” He muttered, then, without warning he threw you onto the couch. You landed with a soft bounce, arms splaying out, your shirt riding up your thighs in the process. You propped yourself up on your elbows, eyes wide, heart racing–and face absolutely lit up with anticipation.

He didn’t move.

He just stood there, a looming figure carved from heat and patience–glowing eyes raking over every inch of your bare thighs, the shirt bunched high on your hips, the flush crawling up your chest. His jaw was tight, twitching with restraint, but his fists weren’t clenched out of anger.

They were clenched out of need.

And he was calculating. Like a lion deciding whether to toy with its prey or devour it whole.

Your bottom lip slipped between your teeth, your thighs instinctively inching together–not out of modesty, but tension. Teasing. He hadn’t even touched you yet, and still you were burning.

You tilted your head just slightly and let out the smallest, most infuriating sound.

A hum.

Soft. Mocking.

“You’ve been staring for a long time, hun,” You teased, voice light, dragging the heel of your foot up the cushion like a stretch. “Was that the plan? Toss me around a little, puff up, and then just…Look?” His eyes snapped to yours, and you grinned.

He stepped forward, slow and silent, like a god descending–not to punish, but to own.

“Keep talking,” He taunted, his voice rough, “Please…Dig yourself deeper.” You leaned back on your elbows, tongue poking out to wet your lips.

“I’m just saying,” You purred, “If you’re trying to break me, you’re gonna have to do more than throw me onto our couch and brood.” His jaw clenched slightly, he just looked at you, and then he reached up, dragging one hand through his light brown hair, tousling it back from his forehead in a single frustrated sweep before exhaling through his nose.

”Alright,” He started, his voice rough and final, like thunder cracking against stone. “You asked for it.”

And before you could breathe, before you could blink, he was on you.

His hands seized your thighs and flipped you in one swift motion, pressing you chest-down into the cushions. You yelped–gasped–your hands scrambling for balance as your cheek pressed into the couch and the hem of his shirt rode up your back, baring you completely to him.

“Sentry!” You squeaked, breath catching in your throat.

But he didn’t respond with words. He pressed one palm between your shoulder blades–firm and commanding, keeping you in place–while his other hand slid along the backs of your thighs, coaxing one leg off the side of the couch until it hit the floor. The effect was instant. Your hips tilted, your knees spread, and you were left completely open for him–bare, dripping, aching.

“Oh my god…” He whispered, almost to himself, like he couldn’t believe the sight in front of him. You felt him lean over you, close enough for his breath to hit your inner thighs. Then–

“Mmm,” He breathed. “My god, you’re dripping wet just from teasing me, huh?” His fingers trailed lightly up the crease of your thigh, teasing, featherlight. “I haven’t even touched you yet. Haven’t even kissed you down here…” His hand cupped you suddenly–broad, and warm–pressing into your heat without penetrating, just enough to feel the slickness against his palm. You moaned involuntarily, hips twitching toward the pressure. He pulled his hand away.

A slick sound accompanied the loss of contact, a soft, wet parting that made your entire body twitch, your hips jerking instinctively toward where he’d been. But there was nothing–just air and the ache of absence. You whimpered, trying to grind back into him, only to feel his hands return–not to please, but to control.

He gripped your hips and lifted you slightly, readjusting your position with deliberate force until you were on your knees, spine arched in a way that made your core glisten in the warm light of the room even more, open and throbbing and wanting.

“See…” His voice was rough silk, low and dangerous, so close to a growl it made your stomach flip. “You can’t even handle the fact I haven’t slipped my fingers into you yet.” You tried to look back over your shoulder, your cheeks flushed and lips parted–but then he leaned forward. His chest brushed your ass, the heat of him branding you even through the thin fabric of your shared shirt. His breath ghosted across your soaked core, and your whole body shuddered. His hands tightened at your hips, holding you in place as he leaned in lower, his nose nearly brushing your folds.

He didn’t lick.

Not properly.

Just the tip of his tongue–one lazy, infuriating flick up your slit. A tease. A cruel taste. You gasped, pushing back toward him, but his hands tightened in warning, keeping you exactly where he wanted you: still, open, desperate.

Then–worse–he blew on you.

A cool stream of air hit your drenched heat and you whined, thighs trembling, your fingers scrabbling against the couch cushions for something to hold onto. He did it again, slower this time, letting his breath trail over your swollen clit until it throbbed.

“Sentry,” You whimpered, trying to grind back again–but he held you firm. You tried to reach for one of his hands but his fingers dug into your hips a bit.

”No.” His voice was firmer now, edged with command. “Put your hands on the armrest. No touching me. No squirming. You stay exactly where I put you.”

You hesitated.

“Sentry…”

“Now.” He growled.

You obeyed.

Your hands slid forward, palms bracing against the armrest, your body trembling from restraint. You could feel his eyes on you, watching the way you complied even through the defiance that still pulsed through your blood. But when he finally moved again you felt his mouth press a soft, deceptively gentle kiss to your inner thigh.

You sighed, expecting more.

But all he did was drag the tip of his tongue slowly through your folds again. Just the tip.

A flick against your clit.

A kiss to your entrance.

Nothing more.

No real contact. No rhythm. Just teasing.

You whimpered and started to shift, one hand instinctively reaching behind you for his wrist–but his fingers snapped up and caught your wrist just before you could touch him. His golden eyes glowed hotter.

“I said–no touching.”

You bit your lip, hips trembling as he guided your hand back to the armrest and pressed it there. Then both his palms returned to your hips, firm and unyielding as he leaned in again.

This time his tongue flattened against your folds. Not all the way, not deep, but enough to drag. You cried out, knees wobbling beneath you, a full-body jolt rippling through you as he licked you again…Then stopped.

“Sentry,” You gasped. “Please…Please, more–”

“I don’t think you’re in a position to beg just yet,” He murmured against your dripping heat. Your breath hitched as Sentry leaned in again, but this time it wasn’t a tease. Not at first.

His mouth finally met your dripping core in earnest–a hot, wet slide of his tongue right through your folds, followed by the delicious, devastating pressure of his lips wrapping around your clit and sucking gently, deliberately. Your body jolted, a cry spilling from your throat as your knees gave the slightest wobble.

And then–just when your hips rocked back and your breath stuttered out in anticipation of more–he added his hand.

One large, warm palm still clutched your hip, grounding you, but the other slid lower, parting your folds with two fingers, and pressing just below your swollen clit. He didn’t rush. He didn’t need to. The pads of his fingers moved in slow, aching circles, wet and unhurried, swirling through your slick with a rhythm designed to drive you insane. Every movement was confident and precise, and paired with the slow, methodical way his tongue worked over your entrance, you were unraveling in seconds.

“Sentry–fuck, oh my god…” You gasped, your fingers gripping the armrest so tightly your knuckles turned white. “Please, don’t stop…Please, please, please–”

Your voice dissolved into a high, breathless moan as the pleasure mounted too quickly–far too fast to be sustained. You could feel the tremble starting in your thighs, the flutter of heat low in your belly, the telltale signs that your body was on the cusp, seconds away from exploding–and just when it started to crest, just when your hips began to twitch and your breath caught–

He pulled away.

Completely.

His mouth. His fingers. Everything.

Gone.

“Fuck!” You sobbed, your entire body shaking with the denial, your hips rocking desperately into open air, trying to chase the friction that had just been there, trying to force the climax your body had already started to fall into. Your moan turned into a choked whimper as you tried to rub your thighs together for any pressure–anything at all. But then he blew on you again.

A slow, teasing stream of air that hit your soaked, twitching folds and made your whole body spasm.

“Feel that?” He rasped, voice tight and low behind you. “That’s how close you were. And you think I’m just gonna give that to you after how you’ve acted?”

You could barely breathe. Your arms shook where they braced against the couch, and your core clenched around nothing, pulsing in rhythm with your heartbeat. You were dripping, swollen, overstimulated from everything and yet somehow still untouched where it mattered most.

He pressed two fingers into your folds again–slow, shallow–and began rubbing tight, cruel circles over your clit once more. A fresh wave of pleasure surged through you. Your hips twitched uncontrollably, breath hitching into a sob as you moaned, your walls fluttering with tension.

You were right there again.

You could feel it.

You could taste it.

And then–

He slowed.

His fingers didn’t stop completely–but they softened, gentled, just enough to back you down from the edge. Just enough to hold you in that maddening limbo between climax and collapse.

“You want to cum?” He murmured, voice a low purr against your thigh. “Say you’re sorry.” Your mouth dropped open. You blinked down at the couch cushions, stunned, dazed, your chest heaving with every breath.

“W-What?” You gasped. And then he blew on you again–another torturous breeze across your oversensitive heat.

“I said,” He growled, “Say you’re sorry for teasing me, Y/N.” You whimpered. Your hips rocked back instinctively, hoping, praying, aching for his mouth–but it never came. Just that cold air. Just the ghost of him.

“I can’t…” You whispered. “I won’t.” He chuckled darkly behind you–one of those deep, dangerous sounds that vibrated through your ribs.

“Wrong answer,” He said, voice almost pitying.

And his fingers slowed even more.

Your body screamed in frustration–clenching, twitching, begging without words as your hands trembled on the armrest. You tried to grind against his palm, but he pulled it away entirely, lips brushing your entrance just enough to make you sob.

“Fuck, Sentry–holy fuck–please let me cum,” You choked, your voice cracking, the tension spilling over into desperation now.

But he only exhaled, slow and cruel against your slick folds. His lips brushed your skin, damp and gleaming from where he’d been, and you felt the tremble in his breath as he shook his head.

“I haven’t heard an apology from that pretty mouth of yours.”

You moaned again, helpless and breathless, rocking your hips in place, but he didn’t move. Just stared. Just breathed. You turned your head, your cheek pressing against the cushion as you looked back over your shoulder. He was crouched behind you, eyes blazing gold, lips wet with your arousal, chest rising and falling like he was barely holding himself together.

“Say it,” He ordered, his voice raw, his control unraveling in threads. “Say you’re sorry for teasing me.” You opened your mouth, gasping.

“…I–” You faltered, blinking away frustrated tears. “I’m sorry.”

His eyes burned brighter.

“For what baby? And say it like you mean it.” You moaned, nearly sobbing from the tension in your body.

“I’m sorry,” You whimpered, breath catching. “I’m so sorry for teasing you, Sentry…Please, please, I can’t take it anymore.” His mouth was on you before the words had fully left your lips.

And this time, he didn’t hold back.

He devoured you.

His mouth latched onto your clit, sucking with a hunger that rattled your bones, his tongue flicking, pressing, circling in tight, devastating patterns. His fingers thrust into you suddenly–two thick, wet digits filling you perfectly, curling just so inside your walls as he moved them in time with the rhythm of his mouth. You began to shake, your entire body trembling with the force of it–wrung tight, knotted, desperate–and when he pushed his fingers deeper, curling them just so against that devastating spot inside you while his tongue flicked mercilessly against your clit, it was over.

You came with a broken sob, your knees buckling, your thighs quaking around his head. Your whole body bowed, arching into the air as if the pleasure had torn through you like lightning. You pulsed around his fingers again and again, fluttering so hard you nearly pushed him out–but Sentry held you in place, groaning against you as he pressed in harder, refusing to let up even as your cries turned to gasps, your gasps to desperate whimpers.

And god, did he lap it up.

Your arousal gushed over his tongue, soaking his face, slicking his chin and nose, dripping into the heat between you like he’d finally broken the floodgates. He moaned into you, deep and ragged, licking every last drop as you shook beneath him, your hands clawing at the armrest, tears spilling freely down your cheeks from the sheer, obliterating relief of it.

“There’s my good girl…” He whispered, his voice rough, his wet breath hot against your swollen folds. “God, look at you… fuck.” He licked you slowly now, gentler, his mouth savoring you like you were the answer to every ache in his body. Finally, he pulled back, panting, face glistening with your release. His fingers slipped from your core with a filthy squelch, leaving you trembling and bare, your walls fluttering around the sudden absence.

Then his hands were on you again.

He flipped you onto your back in one smooth, decisive movement. You landed with a gasp, dazed and still reeling, the hem of his shirt clinging damply to your skin, your thighs slick and parted. Your chest heaved, your lips swollen, your face flushed and wet from crying. You barely had time to register the feral glint in his eye before he brought his soaked fingers to your mouth.

“Clean my fingers off,” He said, voice low and commanding.

You didn’t hesitate.

You grabbed his wrist with both hands and took his fingers into your mouth, lips sealing around them greedily. Your tongue swirled over the mess he’d pulled from your body, tasting your sweetness, sucking him in deeper with every breathless moan. He didn’t stop you when you gagged slightly–just smirked, eyes half-lidded with dark delight. You choked softly, then sucked harder, saliva dripping down your chin, stringing between your lips and his fingers. When he pulled his fingers free with a wet pop, they were glistening again–this time with spit, shining in the low kitchen light.

“Take that shirt off,” he ordered, his voice thick with arousal.

You obeyed instantly. The old cotton peeled from your skin, still damp with sweat and heat and pleasure, and you threw it to the side. Your bare chest rose and fell with each ragged breath, nipples flushed and stiff from both the air and anticipation.

Sentry leaned in, dragging those saliva-soaked fingers slowly over your breasts–first teasing the underside, then circling each nipple with obscene care, smearing the wetness around until your skin gleamed.

Then he blew on them.

A soft exhale–cool, deliberate–watching the peaks tighten further, your whole body twitching under his gaze. He was enjoying it too much. Taking his time. Worshipping. Torturing.

“Sentry…” You whispered, breathless and wrecked. “Please… Now that you’ve got me worked up… I need you to fuck me. Please.”

The word cracked in your throat.

It wasn’t a tease anymore. It wasn’t a bratty game.

You were begging.

He sighed like a man finally relenting–not because he was tired, but because he couldn’t help himself anymore. He leaned over you, bracing one hand beside your head, the other curling gently around your jaw as his eyes raked over your trembling, flushed body.

“Okay…” He murmured, bending to kiss the corner of your mouth, lips ghosting over yours like a promise. “Since you apologized… I’ll give you a little reward.”

You let out a long, shaky breath–half relief, half anticipation–and murmured softly, “Thank you, Sentry… Thank you.”

His golden eyes flickered with something deeper at that, something primal and possessive and reverent all at once. His thumb brushed gently along your jaw before he pulled back, slowly rising to full height above you. You watched, breathless, as he reached for the hem of his shirt, fingers curling into the sweat-damp fabric.

In one smooth motion, he peeled it over his head and let it drop to the floor beside the couch.

Your breath caught.

God, he was beautiful.

The late afternoon light slanted through the blinds in golden strips, cutting across his chest and casting his body in sharp contrast–half shadow, half sun. He looked like a sculpture carved from firelight and stormclouds, every inch of him defined and flushed from the effort of what he’d just done to you. His chest was rising and falling with slow, heavy breaths, dusted in a fine sheen of sweat that caught the light and made his skin glow. His pecs were firm, his shoulders broad, and his abdomen…Carved. Muscles rippled subtly under every movement, his obliques trailing down into those perfect lines that disappeared beneath the waistband of his sweats.

Your eyes followed the motion as he hooked his thumbs under the band and pushed his sweatpants down.

He wasn’t wearing boxers.

Of course he wasn’t.

And the moment he freed himself, your breath hitched audibly.

He was already hard. Thick, flushed, glistening slightly at the tip. His cock sprang free and stood proud, heavy against the air, bobbing once with the release. It looked painfully ready–like he’d been holding back for far too long–and the sight alone sent another rush of heat through your core.

He caught your gaze as you stared, and his lips curved in a slow, knowing smile.

“Speechless again?” He murmured, voice rough, chest still heaving.

You nodded wordlessly, eyes wide, pulse thundering in your throat.

Sentry’s eyes trailed slowly down your naked form, lingering on the way your chest rose and fell, your thighs still trembling, your folds glistening with your slick and stretched from his fingers. And then he shifted forward, fist curled around his cock, dragging his palm slowly along the length as he towered over you.

“Be a good girl,” He said, low and warm, “And open your legs for me.” Your legs parted slowly, trembling slightly at the inner thighs from the exertion and the aftermath of your climax. The couch cushions sank beneath your hips, and the late afternoon sun painted streaks of gold across your bare skin as you spread yourself open for him. Vulnerable. Wanting. Obedient.

Sentry’s golden eyes darkened as he looked down at you–completely bared and still glistening, your folds flushed and soaked from everything he’d done. And everything he was about to do.

He moved between your legs, settling into the cradle of your hips with a slow, reverent ease. One hand pressed to the side of your thigh, keeping you open, while the other still curled around the base of his cock. You watched, breath caught in your throat, as he dragged the swollen head through your folds–just once. Slow. Deliberate.

You gasped.

Your arousal mixed instantly with the glistening bead of precum smeared across the tip, slick sounds filling the space as he slid it up your slit again. And again. He didn’t try to push in. He just rubbed himself through the heat of you–circling your entrance, teasing the slick lips, letting the head of his cock catch against your clit until your hips twitched.

Every time he moved, it smeared more of him against you. You were soaked. And he was cruel.

“Oh my god…” You whimpered, rolling your hips up to try and meet him. “Please…”

But he only gave you a warning hum. And then—he dipped in.

Just the tip.

Just enough to stretch you for a heartbeat before he pulled out again, dragging the head of his cock right back over your clit with a lazy, heated roll.

You cried out.

It was maddening. You were aching. Empty. Needing him deeper than anything you’d ever known. But still he just moved his head against you, back and forth, smearing the mess between you until your entire core felt slick and desperate.

“I want you to promise,” He started softly, a cruel sort of warmth in his voice, “that you won’t tease me anymore this week before I fuck this wet little pussy of yours.”

You let out a frustrated moan, your voice pitched with tension. “That’s not fair, Sentry…”

He sighed, almost sympathetically.

Then pushed in again–just the tip.

The stretch made your eyes roll back. Your walls fluttered instantly around the intrusion, but just when your legs tightened in anticipation, he pulled out again.

“Fuck!” You whimpered, trying to chase him with your hips. “Please…”

“Promise,” He said again, dragging his cock along your clit in slow, sticky circles. “Say it.” Your hips bucked toward him on instinct, thighs twitching from the contact.

“Okay…Okay,” You gasped, voice high and strained. “I won’t tease you anymore this week…Just please…” He didn’t move yet. Just kept that heated pressure right against your clit, the head of his cock slick and throbbing as he pressed it harder against you. It made your back arch, your body bowing toward him like it had a mind of its own.

“Say you promise,” He murmured, watching you closely.

You moaned–a wrecked, breathless sound–and whimpered, “I promise.”

He grinned. Smug. Satisfied.

“There you go,” He cooed, voice rough with need. “Now was that so hard?” Before you could even answer, he pushed forward. You gasped, spine arching off the couch as the thick head of his cock breached you fully, stretching you wide in one slow, devastating thrust. Your walls fluttered, desperate to accommodate him, the pressure exquisite as he filled you to the hilt. The stretch was perfect. Deep. Complete. And he didn’t stop until his hips were flush against yours, his cock buried inside you so far it felt like he was touching something sacred.

“Oh my god–” You whimpered, eyes fluttering shut, one hand flying to his stomach.

You clutched at him, your nails dragging across his abdomen–fingertips sinking into those carved muscles, desperate for something to anchor you as he began to move. His abs flexed beneath your touch, every ripple of his body pressed flush to yours as he drew back, then thrust forward again–deep and deliberate, every inch of him claiming you with perfect precision.

“Fuck,” He groaned, voice thick, his breath catching in his throat. “You feel like fucking heaven…So tight still…Jesus, baby…”

He leaned over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other slipping between your bodies, and you felt the glide of his thumb against your clit. Not rushed. Not cruel. Just right. A rhythm he knew by heart, drawing soft, wet circles that made your back bow and your thighs shake.

Your lips parted around a moan. “Sentry… oh my god, you’re so deep…”

“Yeah?” He panted, his voice rough and reverent, thrusting deeper with each word. “You missed this cock, didn’t you? Missed the way I stretch you out…Fuck you full–rub you right here–” He angled his hips and hit it, that spot inside you that made you cry out and clutch harder at his stomach, your nails digging in like you could brand him the way he was branding you.

“Sentry…Yes, fuck, right there–”

His mouth crashed down on yours.

It wasn’t gentle.

It was hot and open and desperate. Tongue pressing past your lips, licking into you with the same rhythm his cock was thrusting into your soaked core. You whimpered into his mouth, sucking on his tongue as he groaned low in his throat–his hand never slowing on your clit, his hips grinding deeper, harder, every stroke sending shockwaves through your trembling body.

“You’re gonna cum for me again,” He growled against your lips, breath hot and ragged. “I can feel it…You’re already squeezing me so fucking tight–”

You nodded, barely able to speak. “Don’t stop…Please…Oh my god, please!”

“Say my name,” He demanded, his cock pounding into you now, fast and wet and unforgiving. “Say who’s making you feel this good.”

“Sentry,” You sobbed, voice high and cracking. “It’s you–fuck, it’s only ever you, Sen.”

“Good girl,” He groaned, voice breaking with pleasure. “That’s it–cum on my cock, Y/N. Let me feel it.” Your whole body tensed, your hands flying to his back, nails raking down his spine as you came hard around him. Your thighs shook, your core pulsed, soaking him as the orgasm crashed over you like a wave, hot and blinding and overwhelming.

Sentry groaned deep in his chest, burying himself to the hilt inside you, your orgasm milking his cock.

“Fuck, Fuck…I’m gonna cum–” He gasped, hand gripping your waist as he pounded into you with a few final, brutal thrusts. “You’re so fucking perfect–so tight…Fuck, take it…Take all of it–”

And then he was spilling into you.

You felt it.

Hot and thick and endless–pulse after pulse as he filled you to the brim, his cock twitching inside you, pressing against your cervix, moaning into your mouth loudly. Your hands clutched at him as his body trembled above you, his hips rolling in slow, shallow thrusts–his cum spilling out around the base of his cock, slicking your thighs and dripping down onto the cushions as he fucked it deeper, not ready to let go.

You were both panting, chests heaving, clinging to each other like you’d survived something feral.

He leaned down again, kissing you softer this time–messy and lingering, lips brushing yours as your breath mingled. His golden eyes were half-lidded, dazed with pleasure, his hand still stroking your thigh.

When he pulled back, his voice was wrecked.

“Have you learned your lesson?”

You smiled weakly, eyes glassy but bright with mischief.

“I think I may need you to show me it one more time.” You whispered, still breathless. And despite the wreckage of your bodies, despite the heat still pulsing between you, you both burst into laughter against each other.

690 notes · View notes

mariesdolls · 5 days ago

Text

Still Yours

Warning : Explicit sexual content / graphic smut ,Multiple orgasms and intense overstimulation , Oral sex (female receiving) ,Fingering and manual stimulation ,Female ejaculation , squirting , Unprotected sex , Dominant/submissive dynamics , Hair pulling , Light degradation and praise , Breath control / physical restraint , Dirty talk and explicit language ,Physical intimacy with intense passion and tension

Wc: 3.2K

Note : okay yay my first enhypen fic is finally out i feel so relived cuz i lost the draft and suddenly my laptop died so yh this is the third time im writing this :/ but enjoy <3

You and Jake met during your university years—he was the golden boy: smart, effortlessly charming, and lowkey clingy when it came to you. You were his

opposite—cold to the world, focused, trying to prove you didn’t need anyone.

But Jake wanted you. And he got you.

Late-night study sessions turned into secret makeout sessions. Coffee dates became nights tangled in sheets. He spoiled you with little things—leaving gum in your bag because he knew you chewed it when anxious, pulling you onto his lap when you were working too hard.

But love with Jake wasn’t easy.

You pushed him away when things got real. You hated feeling dependent, hated how vulnerable he made you feel. You told yourself you were “busy” and “independent” but truth was: you were scared.

And Jake? Jake got tired of begging to be let in.

The breakup wasn’t explosive. It was... sad. Quiet.

“I don’t know what else to do,” he said, voice low, defeated.

“Then don’t do anything,” you replied, coldly.

He stared. Waiting.

You didn’t stop him when he walked out.

That was 11 months ago.

The sound of the ocean hits you as you step out of the rented van, Yunjin at your side. You’re dressed in a black mini dress, loose curls down your back, and sunglasses pushed into your hair. Chaewon tugs her suitcase behind her, already scoping out the view.

“I swear if I see one ex here, I’m leaving,” you murmur.

“If he’s here, you better be the problem,” Yunjin smirks.

you laugh and push yunjin playfully.

Inside, the vibe is perfectly chaotic. Heeseung’s arguing with Jay over grill duty. Jungwon’s on the floor trying to set up a bluetooth speaker. Sunghoon is sitting with his ankles crossed sipping cider like a quiet menace.

And leaning by the fridge?

Jake.

Backwards cap, sleeveless shirt, a bottle of water to his lips. His gaze snaps to you.

Long pause. No one says anything. Then—

“Y/N?” he says, voice even.

“Jake.”

He straightens up, jaw clenched. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

“Surprise.”

Jay whistles under his breath. “This weekend’s about to be messy.”

Chaewon immediately smacks his arm. Hard.

“Ow, what the fuc—”

Everyone turns to look at him.

Jay straightens up like nothing happened, lips quirking into a guilty grin as he rubs the spot she hit.

“Yo wsp y’all,” he says smoothly, fingers throwing up a lazy peace sign like he wasn’t just outed for eavesdropping.

Yunjin facepalms. “Is he being for real right now?”

Heeseung sighs without even looking up from his phone.

“That’s Jay to you.”

Sunghoon’s already laughing, head thrown back. “Nah, Jay’s in his reality show era.”

“I am the entertainment,” Jay shrugs, grabbing a skewer off the tray and dramatically biting into it.

Kazuha leans over to you, whispering,

“He’s doing that thing again where he thinks he’s mysterious.”

You cover your mouth to hide your laugh.

Jake glances at the scene from across the table, then his eyes flick to you — laughing, relaxed, cheeks glowing in the firelight.

His jaw tightens slightly.

After some time after everyone already got settled in .

“Okay,” Chaewon says, rising to her feet with her glass raised, “I think it’s time for a chaotic little toast.”

“I’m scared,” Jungwon mumbles.

“Good,” she smirks. “To Kazuha’s birthday, to reconnecting with friends, to… totally non-awkward reunions and zero emotional damage.”

A few people snort. You feel Jake’s eyes on you.

“Cheers!” everyone chimes in, glasses clinking in a messy web across the table.

Jake’s voice is low when he murmurs, “Zero damage, huh?”

You glance at him, unfazed. “Keep drinking, maybe you’ll believe it.”

The sun’s fully down now, casting everything in golden flicker from the firepit. Everyone’s more relaxed — drinks in hand, legs draped over laps, someone’s playlist humming soft in the background.

You're sitting with Yunjin and Chaewon, legs tucked under you, sipping from your cup while laughing at something Sunghoon said.

Jake’s not far — across from you again, this time sitting sideways in a chair, long legs stretched out, arm lazily slung over the backrest. He hasn’t stopped glancing at you all night.

But you haven’t given him much to work with.

Until now.

“So, Y/N,” Jay smirks, “still got that sharp tongue, or did city life soften you up?”

You cock a brow, slow and lethal.

“I save my tongue for people who can handle it.”

“Ooohh damn—” Heeseung drops his drink in mock offense.

Jake chuckles, low and amused.

“Nah,” he says, eyes flicking to you. “She still bites. Just softer now.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m softer,” you shoot back, not even glancing at him.

He smirks, head tilting. “You're right. I remember the bruises.”

Heeseung spits out his drink " okay yall chill no one wanted to know what"

“OKAY—”

“HELLO??”

“Jake, please—there are children here.” Jungwon covers his ears, laughing.

You just sip your drink with a smug little grin " who?"

“I thought we said no emotional damage tonight.”

“That wasn’t emotional,” Jake says smoothly. “That was nostalgic.”

The fire’s burned low. Someone tossed on a playlist that’s all sleepy R&B now — low vocals and soft bass humming through the patio speakers. Everyone’s either headed inside or slumped on beanbags, half-asleep.

Chaewon’s curled up with a hoodie over her face. Sunghoon’s knocked out in a lounge chair. Jay mumbles something to Heeseung about brushing his teeth and disappears inside.

Yunjin gives you a look as she gets up — something between “don’t do it” and “just do it already.”

“Don’t stay out too late,” she mutters as she passes.

“Mhm,” you say.

Jake’s still sitting near the fire. Silent. Glowing orange in the flame’s flicker. One knee pulled up, forearm resting on it. He catches your eyes across the deck.

You know that look.

That dangerous, confident, I-still-know-how-to-make-you-fold look.

You hold his stare. Cool. Unbothered.

But your thighs shift slightly. Heat pulsing low in your belly.

“You coming in?” he asks, voice low.

“Not tired.”

A pause.

“Neither am I.”

You set your cup down and stand slowly. Walk past him — deliberately close — your fingers brushing his knee like it’s nothing.

“Then come find me,” you murmur.

And then you disappear inside

Guest Room, Door Clicks Shut

You hear the door close behind you.

Jake locks it.

You don’t speak. Neither does he.

You just stare — backs turned slightly toward each other — your heart hammering like you’re sixteen again.

“This is a bad idea,” you say softly.

“So stop me.”

He steps forward. You don’t move.

His hand touches your waist first — barely. Then slides forward, across your stomach, pulling you back against him.

“Still feel the same,” he whispers, nose brushing the side of your neck.

You exhale shakily.

He starts kissing your neck, slow and intentional — the kind that makes your knees weaken instantly.

“You missed me?” he murmurs against your skin.

“No,” you lie, but your breath stutters.

He smirks, dragging his mouth down your neck.

“Then why are you already shaking?”

dress hits the floor fast — no hesitation. He unhooks your bra like he remembers it, like muscle memory.

“Turn around,” he says, voice lower now — that deep, dangerous Jake.

You obey.

His eyes drag over you, slow, hungry. Like he’s furious at how good you still look.

“Lay back.”

You crawl onto the bed, propped up on your elbows, legs bent. He watches. Unbuttons his jeans. Palms himself through his boxers as he climbs over you.

His fingers trail up your thighs, spreading them with ease.

“God, you’re soaked already,” he groans. “What happened to that cold attitude?”

“She melts when you’re useful,” you pant.

He laughs once — dark and smug — before lowering his head between your legs.

And then?

Nothing sweet about it.

Jake devours you.

Your legs are trembling, stretched wide open, his mouth slick against your core as Jake devours you like he’s angry he ever let you go.

His tongue slides deep, curling and flattening, sucking at your clit until your hips jerk.

“Jake—fuck—don’t stop—don’t stop—”

You’re moaning uncontrollably now, your fingers tangled in his hair, dragging him in deeper. He groans against you, loving every second of how wrecked you sound.

“God, you sound so fucking pretty like this,” he pants, breath hot against your folds. “How long’s it been since someone made you this wet?”

You can't answer. Your brain's fogged, head tipped back, legs shaking.

He flattens his tongue and drags it slow from your entrance to your clit and back again, humming.

“Jake—shit—Jake—!”

Your orgasm hits so fast it knocks the air from your lungs, your thighs clamping around his head as your back arches.

He doesn’t stop — tongue still moving, one hand gripping your hip, the other sliding up to squeeze your tits, tweaking your nipple just hard enough to make you cry out again.

He pulls back finally, lips wet, chin soaked, and eyes black with lust.

“Still sensitive?” he murmurs, smirking.

You try to nod — or maybe shake your head — you’re not even sure anymore.

Your voice is wrecked, mouth dry, moans turned into broken whimpers as Jake slowly pulls out, then slides his fingers through your soaked folds.

You jerk instantly.

“Ohhh—Jake—please—”

“Still dripping,” he chuckles darkly. “You’re a mess, babe.”

Two fingers slide in again, deep, curling just right — and you sob, thighs snapping shut around his wrist.

“You came so hard, and you’re still this needy? Look at that.”

He pulls his fingers out just to watch your cunt clench around nothing — then spits on it and pushes back in, deeper this time.

“Jake—no—nngh—it’s too much—”

“Too much?” he repeats mockingly. “That why you’re gripping me like this? Fucking greedy.”

He slides down again, mouth back on you like he didn’t just make you come twice already — tongue flicking fast over your clit while his fingers don’t stop moving.

Your back arches violently.

“Ahh—fuck, fuck, Jake—please—ohmygod—”

He hums low, vibrating right against your clit, and you scream.

You come again — harder, messier, your hips twitching as your hands slap at the sheets, your whole body wracked with aftershocks.

But he doesn’t stop.

He’s licking you through it, fingers still curling and dragging against that spot that has you seeing white.

You’re shaking — thighs trembling, face flushed, tears slipping down your cheek.

“Can’t—can’t—Jake—too much—! nghhhhhhh"

“You’re crying,” he says, almost in awe. “Shit, baby. That good?”

You try to crawl away, but he grabs your waist, yanks you back to his mouth.

“One more.”

“I c-can’t—”

“One more.” he says more sternly

His tongue is relentless now, sucking your clit, fingers pumping fast, and you lose it — crying out, drooling on the pillow, nails clawing into your own arms.

“I—Jake—please, I’m—something’s—”

“Yeah?” he whispers, eyes dark. “You gonna squirt for me, baby?”

His fingers pump faster, dragging against that soft, dangerous spot inside you with ruthless precision — and his voice gets rougher, hungrier.

“Let it go. Be a good girl and fuckin’ soak me.”

And then — everything snaps.

Your entire body locks up, back arching off the bed with a high-pitched scream as liquid gushes out of you.

It’s hot, uncontrollable, everywhere — soaking his hand, the sheets, your thighs.

Jake lets out a groan, watching it happen like he’s obsessed.

“Fuck—there you go. Holy shit.”

You’re still twitching, dripping, gasping for air — legs spread wide and trembling as he doesn’t stop, coaxing every last drop out of you.

“Messy fucking girl,” he whispers, voice almost reverent. “You squirted all over me.”

He leans in to lick a stripe up your inner thigh, moaning at the taste.

“Pretty little thing… ruined now, huh?”

You nod weakly, tears mixing with drool on the pillow, breath shattered.

He finally slows down, fingers slipping out with a slick wet sound.

And he kisses your stomach, then your hip, murmuring:

“You did so good for me.”

He finally pulls back, lips shiny, fingers glistening, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You okay?” he whispers, leaning over, brushing hair from your face.

You can’t even answer. so you just nod

Just breathing hard. Chest heaving. Tears still wet on your cheek.

So he presses a kiss to your temple.

“good beacuase were not done ”

...

Hard, deep, dragging his cock so slow at first you see stars.

He pins your wrists above your head with one hand. Leans over you. Thrusts deeper.

“You missed this?” he growls into your ear.

“Yes—fuck—yes—”

He lets go of your wrists just to flip you over.

You arch for him, face in the sheets, hands gripping the headboard as he slams into you from behind.

“You still mine?” “Say it.”

“Yes—still yours—fuck—Jake—”

He grunts, gripping your hips harder.

“That’s right, baby. Still mine.”

You collapse on the bed, bodies tangled in sweat and leftover anger. He lays beside you, catching his breath.

No one says anything for a long time.

Then he says it.

“This doesn’t mean I’m done trying.”

You close your eyes. Still catching your breath.

“Didn’t say I wanted you to stop.”

415 notes · View notes

izanacore · 1 month ago

Text

“bad idea, right?” | manjiro sano x reader

one-shot 𓂃⋆.˚

synopsis: one text, one photo, and y/n’s back where she swore she’d never be—under mikey, in his car, forgetting every reason she left. they always crash back into each other, and this time’s no different.

characters: manjiro “mikey” sano, fem!reader, hinata tachibana, kakucho

warnings: smut (18+), explicit sexual content, college au, public sex (in a car), unprotected sex, rough sex, possessive behavior, degradation, recording during sex, mild exhibitionism, toxic relationship dynamics, marking (biting/hickeys), light humiliation, implied jealousy/territorial behavior, explicit language, explicit sexting, dom/sub undertones

notes: this is how i see manila! mikey behaves. anyways, enjoy the meal. <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“y/n!! get up!! you can’t seriously skip the year-end party—literally the entire university is there!”

hina’s voice rang out through the dorm like a fire alarm. she stood by y/n’s bed, arms crossed, glaring down at the human lump buried beneath layers of blankets.

“exactly why i’m not going!” y/n’s muffled voice came from under the covers. “everyone’s gonna be there. including that asshole manjiro sano. now leave me to rot in peace.”

it was new year’s eve. people outside were partying, counting down to midnight, kissing strangers. meanwhile, y/n was in her pajamas, refusing to move from the four corners of her room like some grumpy little hermit.

“it’s 7pm and you haven’t moved all day! this is non-negotiable!” hina barked as she ripped the blanket off, only for y/n to groan dramatically and slam a pillow over her face.

“ughhh!!! go awayyy!”

hina sighed. time to bring out her last card.

“i’ll pay for your boba tea. every friday. for a month.”

…silence.

then—zoom. y/n launched herself out of bed and sprinted to the shower like she was being chased by the devil himself.

hina burst out laughing. “works every time.”

fast forward to the party—some absolute legend apparently rented out the whole club, because this place? was insane. neon lights, blaring music, bodies everywhere. a walking health hazard, but make it aesthetic.

“okay… this isn’t bad,” y/n said, arms crossed, trying to look unimpressed. but inside, she was already calculating how many free drinks she could milk before midnight.

hina, catching the bluff, just smirked. “yeah yeah, c’mon.” she dragged her inside.

they waded through a sea of familiar faces—classmates, org-mates, and people who definitely hated group work. y/n had her fair share of attention. after all, she did used to date the manjiro sano. yes, that one. toman’s golden boy. dating him made her untouchable. practically royalty.

…until he pulled the world’s biggest 180 and turned into a flaming dickhead. long live the bastard king.

as they made their way deeper into the club, y/n suddenly stopped in her tracks. and there he was.

manjiro sano.

tongue-deep in some random girl’s mouth, gripping her ass with one hand and holding a beer with the other.

and of course, he felt her staring. because mid-kiss, he opened one eye, locked eyes with y/n, and—smirked. didn’t even stop. just kept kissing the girl like she was the dessert and he skipped dinner.

y/n’s eye twitched. “you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

mikey whispered something to the girl, who nodded and walked off.

he made his way toward y/n, who was mentally preparing to commit a crime.

“fancy seeing you here, sexy,” he greeted, eyes sweeping her up and down like she was tonight’s main course. he took a swig from his drink like he wasn’t being the most annoying man alive.

“i’m leaving,” y/n snapped, rolling her eyes and turning on her heel.

but mikey grabbed her wrist, smiling like the menace he was.

“whoa, you just got here. don’t be rude, princess. at least stay for a drink at my party.”

“your party?” y/n said, deadpan. her glare shot straight to hina, who immediately avoided her gaze.

“oh my god—michi’s here i gotta go!! love you bye!!” hina bolted, abandoning y/n like a traitor in a rom-com.

“hina—!”

“guess it’s just you and me now, princess,” mikey grinned, sliding an arm around her and leaning in for a cheek kiss.

y/n expertly dodged, turning her face. he laughed, sighing like she wounded him, “ouch.”

she yanked his hand off her arm. “goodbye, sano. it was not nice seeing you.” she flashed him the fakest smile known to mankind and strutted off toward the bar.

“what happened to ‘babe’?!” mikey shouted after her, teasing like he wasn’t trying to ruin her entire night.

without missing a beat, y/n flipped him off.

happy new year indeed.

y/n and mikey started dating when they were freshies. he was the leader of toman, a walking campus legend, and getting girls was never an issue for him. but with y/n, it was different. she didn’t fall into his lap like the others—he had to work for it.

and once he got her? mikey didn’t look at anyone else. he was hooked. borderline obsessed.

but things started to fall apart during the second half of junior year. mikey changed. suddenly cold. distant. an absolute asshole with zero explanation. no fight. no cheating scandal. no closure. just… silence.

y/n tried to move on. keyword: tried.

because somehow, they always found their way back to each other—just to fall apart again. it was a toxic cycle at this point. push and pull, break up and make out. but this time, it’s been almost two months since they last talked. no calls. no run-ins. no stupid 2am texts. and y/n wanted to believe it was really over.

but mikey being mikey, nothing ever stayed peaceful for long.

tonight, she was drinking alone at the party, quietly downing her third glass when someone slid into the empty seat beside her.

“what’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone?”

kakucho.

“my plus one ditched me,” y/n chuckled, setting her drink down.

“was it hina? i saw you two come in together.”

“yup. she saw her boy and ran for her life,” she laughed.

“mind if i join you then?” he asked, nodding toward her drink.

“not like we’re strangers, silly,” y/n said, motioning for him to sit.

they drank. talked. joked around. kakucho was easy to talk to—chill, smooth, and definitely hot. but just as y/n was starting to relax, her phone buzzed on the table.

contact name: dni

she didn’t even have to look.

manjiro sano.

rolling her eyes, she ignored it. not tonight.

but then it buzzed again. and again.

and again.

and this time, it wasn’t another text—her phone was ringing. he was calling.

kakucho raised an eyebrow. “uh… i think you should get that. might be urgent?”

“just one sec,” y/n said with a tight smile as she picked up her phone and walked off. no way she was taking this call with music blaring.

she rushed into the restroom and hit answer.

“what the fuck do you want?”

“check your messages,” mikey said.

“wh—”

click. call ended.

y/n stared at her phone like she was ready to throw it against the wall. what now?

she opened the messages.

and immediately, her jaw dropped. cheeks flushed. thighs pressed together.

dni

mikey: got horny just seeing u in that dress

mikey: wanna fuck u, princess :(

mikey: image attachment

a photo. of his bulge.

very clear. very obvious. probably taken in his car. yup. looks like he’s parked somewhere right now.

buzz

mikey: got hard just thinking abt u

mikey: video attachment

y/n blinked. and then blinked again.

because that video? that was him. stroking his cock. slow and filthy.

fuck.

this was the exact reason she could never escape him.

the audacity. the nerve. the goddamn dick.

he was big. cocky. hot as hell.

and completely ruining her life.

still, she found herself texting back.

y/n: where are u? 🙄

mikey: parking lot near the exit 💦

god fucking help her.

she was already walking.

y/n quickly said her goodbyes to kakucho and made her way to the parking lot, walking straight toward mikey’s car. the moment she found it, she yanked the door open without knocking.

his bulge was obvious—hard, needy, and totally on display.

“you’re disgusting,” she muttered as she slid into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut. “and desperate.”

mikey just laughed, low and amused. “thought you were gonna leave me hanging.”

“now that i’m thinking about it, maybe i should’ve.”

“but you’re running to me the second i called. showing up just to get ruined by my dick. so, who’s the desperate one now?”, he said, his voice dripping with smugness.

his hand trailed up her thigh, fingers teasing right by her core—close enough to make her breath hitch. they didn’t say anything after that. tension filled the space, thick and heated. mikey leaned in, lips brushing against her neck while his hand slipped under her dress. two fingers went in with ease.

y/n let out a soft groan, her body responding instantly as she clutched onto his wrist.

“it’s been months since i had you,” mikey whispered against her skin, voice strained. “fuck… i missed you so much.”

she couldn’t say anything. too lost in the way his fingers curled just right inside her. her head tipped back, chest rising and falling as she breathed through the pleasure.

mikey pulled his fingers out and immediately brought them to his lips, sucking them clean while holding eye contact. y/n tried to act unbothered, rolling her eyes—but her flushed face gave her away.

“what?” he smirked.

“the other girls not doing it for you?” she said, voice breathy.

“no one ever fucking compares to you, princess,” mikey replied.

he slid his seat back, then grabbed y/n by the waist and pulled her on top of him. they kissed—messy, heated, intense—tongues clashing while their hips rolled against each other. every grind sent shivers through them both.

“god, i fucking missed you,” mikey moaned into her mouth, hands gripping her ass and guiding her movements against his clothed cock.

he helped her peel off her dress, then unclasped her lace bra. matching lingerie. he always loved when she wore them. one hand cupped her breast, squeezing. the other tugged the bra down just enough for her chest to spill out.

he dipped his head and took her breast into his mouth, sucking, licking, biting.

“mikey…” y/n moaned, fingers curling into his shoulders as he played with her—messy, greedy, like he couldn’t get enough.

mikey chuckled the moment y/n moaned his name. “you missed me too, didn’t you?”

“i’ve had better since you, sano.” she rolled her eyes, but her voice betrayed her—breathless and wrecked.

“baby,” mikey leaned in, lips brushing hers, hands firm on her waist, “you didn’t even think twice about showing up. you knew exactly what i’d to you.”

“don’t flatter yourself.”

he laughed, smug and certain, because he knew—he always knew—she was still his.

“no need to lie to yourself, baby,” he whispered, then kissed her again, deeper this time. while his mouth was on hers, his hands moved fast, pulling down her panties, tossing them aside like they were in the way of something urgent.

his own clothes followed—shirt discarded, pants shoved down just enough to free his cock. he tapped her ass once.

“up, pretty girl.”

she lifted her hips, and mikey slid his cock along her dripping slit, teasing her like he had all the time in the world.

“you know,” he said casually, lining himself up, “every time you leave, you swear it’s the last time.”

he pushed in just an inch, enough to make her gasp and grip his shoulders tight.

“and yet…”

he slammed into her the rest of the way—one brutal thrust that made her cry out and collapse against him.

“here you are.”

he set a relentless pace, fucking into her like he had something to prove. every thrust was hard, deep, and punishing. y/n was clinging to him, nails digging into his skin, body bouncing with every movement.

“fuck—mikey—”

“you like that, princess?” he growled, breath hot in her ear. “me fucking you like i still own you?”

his grip on her tightened. “you were never anyone else’s to begin with. always mine.”

she couldn’t respond—too busy moaning his name, her face buried in his neck, her body giving in completely. mikey’s hands gripped her ass, helping her grind against him, chasing the high he’d missed so damn much.

he threw his head back, groaning as the pleasure crashed into him.

“get in the back.”

y/n scrambled off him without question, making her way to the backseat. she barely had time to sit down before mikey was on her, flipping her over onto all fours.

“mikey—wait—”

he didn’t.

he shoved into her from behind, deep and rough, not giving her a second to adjust.

skin slapping echoed through the car, loud and filthy, impossible to ignore if anyone happened to walk by. the windows were fogged, rocking slightly with every hard thrust mikey gave her. face down, ass up—y/n could barely think. mikey’s grip was tight in her hair, dragging moans out of her with every stroke. she didn’t even care anymore. mikey was fucking her too good. he always did.

no one ever handled her the way manjiro sano did.

“mikey… more—i want more…” she cried out, voice hoarse.

“greedy little princess,” he growled, grabbing her arms together, hitting deeper. “you deserve this. getting fucked like you were made for me.”

his pace never faltered as he leaned over her, lips pressing kisses along her shoulder, then her temple. “love you so much, y/n. fuck. come back to me,” he whispered, still pounding into her like a man possessed.

“be my girlfriend again…”

she nodded, unable to speak—probably too far gone to even register what she was agreeing to. but that was all mikey needed to hear.

and it made him lose whatever control he had left.

“cumming—mikey, oh my god…” she whimpered, her voice breaking apart.

“cum for me, princess,” he grunted, mouth now on her shoulder, biting and licking the skin he’d marked. the sensation sent her reeling, head spinning, eyes fluttering shut.

it was the hottest thing mikey had ever seen—her, on all fours, taking every thrust like she was made for it. his girl. completely ruined by him.

his own climax hit fast. he pulled out last second, reached for his phone, and started recording. a few strokes and he was groaning low, thick ropes of cum spilling all over her ass. he caught it all on video.

he tossed his head back, chest rising with each breath, then stopped the recording and collapsed into the seat. y/n was still down beside him, catching her breath, hair messy, body glistening. mikey stared. he wanted her for himself again.

but for now, he reached forward for some tissues, cleaned her up gently, then pulled her into his lap, pressing a soft kiss to her head.

“so…” he mumbled, his voice calmer now, “are we officially back together?”

y/n didn’t say a word. she didn’t even look at him. she just gave a small nod.

and just like that, she was his again.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

now fully dressed—sort of—y/n and mikey sat in his car, not even pretending they were going back to the party. mikey had no intention of it. one round wasn’t enough. not after months without her.

y/n glanced at him. “why aren’t you driving?”

mikey was staring at his phone, typing. she frowned. “who are you texting?”

he smirked, not even looking up. “nothing your pretty little head needs to worry about.”

he leaned over and kissed her cheek, smooth as ever.

y/n didn’t trust it. she knew mikey—he never cheated, but he always had a new girl a week after every breakup. it was hard not to be suspicious.

but mikey? mikey already sent the message.

to kakucho.

kakucho

mikey: next time you hit on my girl

mikey: video attachment

it was a video he’d taken—his low groans echoing in the background as he came all over y/n’s ass, the camera catching everything in messy, explicit detail.

he locked his phone and finally started the car, grinning to himself.

possessive, smug, satisfied.

manjiro sano got his girl back—and he was never letting her go again—or not.

547 notes · View notes

last-words-ofashootingstar · 2 months ago

Text

Animals:

Golden Retriever Yunho

❥Jeong Yunho x fem reader

❥ATEEZ x fem reader

➯a/n: taking "golden retriever boyfriend" to a whole new level kkkkkk ugh yunho needs to stop wrecking me so hard

(>ᴗ•)genre: smut, hybrid a/b/o

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: not edited, poly pack dynamics, animal/human hybrids, hybrids take on physical and personality traits from their animals, yunho in a rut, big dick yun- like BIG, gentle to rough sex, dacryphilia, pussy drunk yunho, intense eye contact, knotting, spit, breeding kink, (very briefly) passing out, praise + reassurance, soft dom yunho, pet names (puppy, angel, sweetie, love & baby), omega puppy reader / beta golden retriever yunho

♡masterlist + navigation !♡

18+.MINORS GET OUT.

‧｡ANIMALS𖦹°‧

"Are you ready? Are you ready?" Yunho bounces on his feet at the door while waiting for you.

If he had a tail, it would be wagging a million miles per hour. But since he's a half-hybrid, he only has his ears to show his excitement; the fuzzy, golden blond perked a bit off of his matching hair as he tilts his head.

"Come on, we're burning daylight!" He pouts as you finish tying your running shoes.

"The sun just rose, Yunho! Jeez, what's with the zoomies- wah!" You yell as he grabs your hand and drags you out the door.

He had woken you up with his face over yours, panting softly and asking you to go on his second run with him. He's a naturally active person because of his breed, but this is almost ridiculous. Usually he'd go with Yeosang, your doberman mate, but said alpha had apparently kicked him out of his room before he came to you.

You start to wish you were smart enough to have done what Yeosang did as the golden retriever man starts running — bolting, really. "Aaaah, shit. This is gonna suck." You sigh before pushing your legs to catch up with his long ones.

‧｡ANIMALS𖦹°‧

You fall down in the middle of the large backyard dramatically. "Are you satisfied?" You pant, rolling your head to look at him.

He's got his hands on his knees as he catches his breath, but a large smile is still on his face. His ears flop a bit as he nods quickly. "Thank you, puppy~"

"Yeah, yeah," you laugh breathlessly, "help me inside, my legs are jelly."

He lifts you up quickly, hugging you to his chest tightly as he carries you back inside the pack house, his nose in your neck. Nobody else seems to be awake yet, the rooms all deserted as you make your way to the downstairs bathroom.

When he shuts the door behind you, you're smacked in the face with the heavy scent hot cocoa and cinnamon. It sends you reeling, holding onto the counter tightly as he sets you down; humming as he turns on the shower, blissfully unaware of how his smell is affecting you. Without the fresh air from outside or the air conditioning — you can't smell anything beside his strong pheromones.

"Yunho?"

"Mhm~?"

The insane amount of energy, the runs and work outs he's been doing the past few days, the way he growled at Yeosang to challenge him for the last piece of pizza yesterday and the way he's been extra overbearing over you and the other omegas —

He's going into a rut.

"When was your last rut?"

"Uhm, about six m-" He pauses. He ruts every six months like clockwork.

"I'll go get Mingi-"

"No!" He runs to you quickly, wrapping his arms around you and bear hugging you. "I want you. Please? I don't- I promise I'll be gentle." It's probably not a promise he can hold true to.

Because Yunho may be a beta, but he's built like an alpha.

"I'll stretch you out for as long as you like- just, please? I w- you know I love all of you but... I want another pup to take my knot."

The last time you were his first rutting partner he nearly split you in half with his knot. It's always bigger at the beginning of a rut, and you hadn't known that when you so bravely took it.

"I don't- I don't know if I can take it-"

"We can take our time! My rut hasn't started yet, I can stretch you out," he turns you around and falls to his knees, clasping his hands together, "please, love."

Even though you should be immune to them, his begging puppy dog eyes win you over. "Fine-"

His ears perk up immediately, along with his eyes that you swear start sparkling at the promise of being able to knot another hybrid from the same classification as him.

"But shower first, you almost threw me into an early heat."

"Is that so bad-"

"Shower."

"On it!"

‧｡ANIMALS𖦹°‧

His pheromones are significantly less potent after you shower, but they're still dizzying in your post orgasmic bliss — having just came all over all four of his fingers while his thumb stroked your clit.

You're so far gone just from his large hand that you don't even realize he's spread your legs and positioned himself between them; grinding his massive cock on your messy heat with a string of needy groans.

"Gonna knot my pretty angel," he breathes deeply to reign himself in a bit. He grips the base of his cock, already feeling his knot swelling up ever so slightly.

You suddenly come back to your body, back arching off the bed as you yip — even just his bulbous tip is so huge and heavy. "Ah! Too big, too big," you shake your head, already trembling at the thought of taking anymore.

"It's not too big," he pouts, cupping your cheeks gently to still your head, "it's not, sweetie. You can take it." He rests his forehead on yours, tears welling up in his eyes to match your own. "You can take it, I promise. You took all of my fingers so good, you're so nice and wet for me~"

"Fuck-" You groan, forcing yourself to relax around him as you look into his eyes. "Go- go slow..."

He pecks your lips repeatedly as he inches his way forward immediately, trying to sink into you simultaneously as fast and as slow as possible. Going at the slowest pace he can but doing it quickly.

He's stopped when you instinctively clench around him, your brows knitted together at the intense stretch. He almost falls over, slamming his hand onto the headboard and grabbing it tightly. "R-relax, relax," he begs, his hips stuttering, "fuck, please-"

He collapses on top of you with a pant of relief as you stop clamping down on his girth, gulping down the pool of spit that threatened to spill over his parted lips.

"That's — oh, fuck — that's it, angel~" He moans loudly as he continues his torturously slow descent into your gooey walls. "There you go, you got it," he nuzzles his forehead against yours comfortingly as tears start wetting your lashes; looking deep into your eyes as he stretches you to your absolute fullest.

"You're so-" You hiccup, missing the way his jaw slacks as you clench around him with it. "-so big." Your brain, what little is left after he fingered most of it out of you, is tingling. The only thing you can think about is Yunho and his ridiculous thickness stretching out your pulsing cunt. "M'gonna break." You pout so seriously that he can't help but chuckle.

"Oh, puppy~" He coos fondly as he wipes your eyes with his thumbs, cradling your face tenderly. "You aren't going to break, I got you. You're taking me so well~ You're almost half way there-"

"What?!" Your teary eyes widen, attempting to look between you when he catches your jaw and shakes his head softly.

"Don't panic, love," he hums, stilling his hips to give you a moment. "Breathe in and out, nice and slow, just like that." He strokes your head softly as you take in deep, shaking breaths; going along with you to try and keep his cool. It feels like you're squeezing the life force out of him with your hot, gummy walls.

"Why are you so big?" You whimper, followed by — "It's too good, I'm- I'm gonna lose my mind."

His hips act with a mind of their own, shoving another inch of his fat length into you and making you wail; grabbing his forearms as he keeps his hold on your face.

He was starting to think he'd have to pull out, that you genuinely couldn't take it and that he might be hurting you. But to hear that you feel as good as he does — his ears are hot and twitching as much as his cock is.

"J- oh! Put it all the way in, baby- all the way, all the way!" You're just about sobbing, "just hurry! Hurry and fuck me, please, pleaseee-"

Your plead dies out in a loud, pornographic whine as he slams the rest of his length inside of you; pinning your twitching hips to the mattress with his own as he growls lowly. Your eyes roll back into your head, jaw dropping wide open as you cum around him.

He tries to stop himself, but your mouth is just so tempting; especially as your pussy is fluttering and convulsing around him — massaging every inch, every pronounced vein.

He grips your jaw in one hand and forces it to stay open as he spits right into your mouth. The sight of your tongue twitching as his spit lands is enough to make him want to cum then and there.

"Look at you~" He coos as he starts rutting a few inches of his enormous cock into you, pulling back just a bit more each time until he's sliding in and out of your tight heat slow and steady in his entirety. "I knew you could take me, love."

All you can do is moan with his hand still squeezing your mouth open, feeling like you're about to float away at the mind-numbing pleasure. When your eyes flutter shut, he growls, snapping his hips into you quickly and making them fly back open.

"Eyes on me," he says in a breath, gently rubbing your jaw as he lets go of it, "eyes on me or I will stop." He won't, too deep in the beginnings of his rut to even imagine doing such a thing, but the idea of it makes you whine nonetheless; watching his expression with puppy dog eyes. "Thank you, sweetie~"

You grab onto his arms tighter as he speeds up just a notch, blinking away your tears quickly so you can watch the way he bites his cheek. He's still holding back and while you're thankful that he doesn't want to hurt you — you want to make him feel even better. You know he likes it fast and rough. Especially with a rut only literal minutes away from hitting him.

"Baby," you whisper above his quiet growls, catching his attention. "Fill me with your pups-"

Forget minutes. His rut slams into him full force as soon as the words leave your lips.

His eyes, already nearly fully dilated, are overtaken by his pupils; only the smallest sliver of brown left. His cheeks and neck flush with heat, all the way down his shoulders. His cock feels like it gets bigger inside of you. There's only one thing on his mind.

Breed.

He starts pounding into you like a madman, bottoming out every single time. The sudden burst of speed knocks the air from your lungs and leaves you unable to do anything but let out a small squeak.

If it weren't for his ever present grip on your face, you'd probably be sliding up the bed with the sheer force of his thrusts.

You can't even register his pussy drunk babbling; nodding along simply because you hear his voice from within the absolute tsunami of pleasure slamming onto you.

"Pretty angel, gonna take my knot? Yeah, yeah you are~ Take my big fucking knot- stretch this little puppy cunt out so good~" He moans against your lips, panting as he fucks into you rough and desperate. The entire time, his eyes never leave yours — watching them get fuzzy with ecstasy.

When the first rope of his hot release shoots inside of you, your entire body twitches. Your eyes slam closed again, your jaw dropped in a silent scream as you literally blank for a few seconds. Clenching around his growing knot so hard as he fills you up that he doubles over ontop of you and curses under his heavy breaths.

You come back to the feeling of him licking your tear covered cheek softly, his arms wrapped tightly around you and his knot pulsing against your walls. At the bright look in his eyes, you hum dopily, "did it?"

"You did it," he beams as he wipes the sweat from your brow, "I'm locked up all perfect and snug~"

You slump under him with a wide smile, still chasing your breath. "Mmm perfect," you purr as he continues to lick your face gently.

"I'm so proud of you," he moans contentedly, eyelids as heavy as yours as he looks down at you with what can only be described as heart eyes. "I'm going to knot you so many times, puppy."

‧｡ANIMALS𖦹°‧

#ateez #ateez smut #smut fic #ateez smau #ateez x reader #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho #yunho smut #yunho smau #ateez hybrid au

464 notes · View notes