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astrasng · 11 days ago

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ꕤ BLUE SPRING

【 IN WHICH 】 ⏖ dongmin is your first love. a story revolving around two defining feelings - love and friendship, told by you. it all starts back in middle school when you coudln't stand boys but there was one exception : it was han dongmin. however, this blossoming love quickly faded away due a misunderstanding, him unexpectedly moving away during the summer. so how could you not think about the lost love 4 years later ?

wc : 3k

a/n : this is inspired and basically by the plot of the blue spring ride anime! everything is based on the episodes, so if you haven't seen the original story you don't have to worry because this is almost the same as the original. i made a few changes about the timeline so i can still think of it as mine. also, this will be a small series, maybe 3-4 chapters so not everything will be in this fic as in the anime! i just felt the need to see a small fic of taesan being kou, because they are practically the same.

taglist {. @arunainluv @liloraet @tmrwsuns @chenlezip @ivxae @bgomtori @saqiknb @luckygirlminjuu @rinnonigiri @yiiscorner @xngelsthesis @aracy @liznvis @tinybitofhope }

【 comment if want to be tagged 】

PAGE 1

It was precisely 4 years ago when you met your first love – a sudden summer rain sealing that day.

It was sudden but gentle, just like meeting him.

You had no choice but run to a safe place from the heavy raindrops disturbing your calm walk back to your home after school. Following the same path every day, you were itching closer to the neighborhood park. You’ve never been there before — no matter how many times you walked away from it, it looked unnecessary. But for some reason,that day it told you to step further in and seek shelter.

It was weird, because your legs moved on their own only to find yourself under a curved, traditional brick temple. The wind has taken up at that point when you reached dryness under a roof, somewhat shielding you from the strong monsoon rain.

It was an ordinary day, just like any other.

Except it wasn’t anymore.

There are moments in life that you cannot forget. And this was one of them.

Seeing Dongmin for the first time in his school uniform with his hands crossed in front of him and chewing softly on his bottom lip as he’s scanning the sky made that day unforgettable.

He didn’t make any noise — no, somehow you sensed his presence next to you, on the other side of the temple. Sensing his heart beating, his nervousness and nonstop thinking loudly speaking to you once you reached a safe place to rest. It somehow came naturally to you, feeling his true form.

“It came down pretty suddenly, right?”

Dongmin would say, his rounded eyes once staring at the sky now scanning your face, your trenched clothes from the weather.

You nodded mindlessly, but couldn’t stop staring either — of course when he wasn’t looking at you. It was just that his youth, the soft features of his captivating you at such a young age made you confused. What could you know about love at 13?

The feeling stuck with you, grabbing onto you until you felt him stepping closer to your side, suddenly feeling a heavy material thrown over your head. As you could lift your head up to look properly at him, Dongmin steps to the side next to you and picks up his bag off the ground.

“Dry yourself with that. You’ll catch a cold if you don’t.” His voice was gentle, but firm enough to make you move on your own.

There were sparks in your eyes, as if you could see. But you were sure Dongmin could see it. He did, he saw everything in your eyes. The moment he laid eyes on you too was when he was sure he didn't want to let go of you.

“Really?” You’d say with a taken-aback expression, holding his white gym shirt now in your hands as you scan the clothing.

“Yeah, I haven’t used it, it’s clean.” He says, and that’s when you notice his school uniform. He goes to the same school as you. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you happy. You could play with him outside in the courtyard any day, or even study with him in between breaks.

“Maybe once.”

From his sudden confession you shriek and snap back to reality, tossing his shirt back right into his hands. “So you did wear it!”

The absurdity of the situation was not surprising at all as you saw him laughing wholeheartedly, his eyes brightly shining and his laughter immediately making you blush and admirably scan his features furthermore. It was obvious, the atmosphere between you was easygoing,not many people bringing this out of him.It would have been unnecessary to elaborate further, you loved being with him.

“Okay then! I will use it anyway..” You sulk, a pout painting your young face as you dry your hair and skin slowly, the boy standing closer to you unbeknownstly.

Dongmin nodded softly, his hands now in his pockets as a slight blush appeared on his face too, looking away the minute he saw your actions becoming real. In the corner of his vision he saw your movements, slowly moving the white thin shirt towards your arms.

“Thank you..” You mumble out the gratitude, shyly looking away from him and towards the trees in the park.

Han Dongmin was in the class next to yours. He was always quiet and calm, short and his voice sounded almost like a girl's. Before that, you didn’t really pay attention to his presence, not because you chose to, but rather because him as a person was hard to reach. Always with his three or four friends, in a small pact, talking and playing in the courtyard with them without looking at you once. It was obvious that you two have no reason to hang out, until now, when the next day you bring his uniform back.

“Are you going to the summer festival?” He suddenly mumbled out as his delicate hands reached for the shirt. You pick your head up at his question, and try to calm your overbeating heart down. “I-I mean, did you make plans with your friends?” He repeated with slightly more confidence than before, his eyes still on the shirt in his hands.

“Not yet..” You blink and say, voice unsure about how you should answer him.

“7:00 PM! “

He interrupts you softly, his figure shaking slightly as a bright pink blush appears on his face. Dongmin takes the courage and speaks up again, one of his hands lifting up to cover the blush to prevent you seeing it.

“ 7:00 PM at the clock in the neighbourhood park.”

And before you could realize what his intentions are, you are already walking back to your class, heart wanting to jump out of your chest and a small smile decorating your face.

“So what’s up with you and Dongmin? You’re telling me there’s nothing going on between you two? I saw you guys talking just now!” Your classmate says, walking closely behind you.

It wasn’t your fault for saying what you said. It wasn’t Dongmin’s fault he heard it. It wasn’t your classmates fault for annoying you, or rather being curious. It was the whole situation that got you where you are right now, hands curled into a fist as you just realized what you said to the boy in front of you.

The sentence “Stop being annoying! That’s why I hate all the boys! I hate them! ” slipped out just as quickly as you wished you'd never said it, because when you see Dongmin’s expressionless face witnessing the whole scene, you want to disappear from the earth.

You wanted to stop him and tell him it’s not true, to make sure he understood you and that it was a slip out. But then you see him walking away from you with his hands in his pockets, and all you can do is pray that he will meet you at the park.

And all you can do is just stare, when you stand alone at the park in the dusky sunset, your flowy dress soaring in the wind as you wait and just wait, but no sign of him. You waited and waited, and all you could blame was you. For saying what you said and doing nothing about it when you hear the next day that he moved away and switched schools. He didn’t even tell his close friends, leaving everything behind without a word. You blamed yourself for possibly making him think you hate him. Dongmin was embarrassingly awkward,and seemed to always fumble his way through everything. But somehow, and you still don’t know how and why.

You loved him.

It’s been four years now, and you, seemingly managed to make your way to your third year of high school. The term dangerously close to an end, excited to have new classmates and many many possibilities. You just had one rule.

Don’t be feminine. Don’t have the feminine appeal.

It was stupid, and you knew it too, especially when you get it from your friends and classmates how unfeminine you are when you buy too much food at the cafeteria, or how messy and clumsy you are with your stationery.

“Well now, that’s what makes Y/N so fun!” Your friend, Asumi, suddenly hugs your shoulder from the side and pokes your bag which almost spills everything out.

“Good morning, Asumi!” You chirp happily, not paying a single mind to the latter comment.

“At least you are not like her.” Asumi adds, nodding his head towards the entrance door to the classroom, a snicker on her face as a smaller girl walks in through the threshold. You see Yuuri walking in with her bag in her hands, her head hung low as two boys immediately greeted her in the class. She’s wearing a pink coat and the cute little ponytails in her hair flutters in motion as she moderately nods her head and wishes a good morning, continuing her walks to the seat at the last row.

“I don’t get what they see in those types of girls. She’s not even that cute if you look at her closely.” Asumi says once again, twirling her hair with her hands.

“It’s just an act. Boys love girls acting all cute and petite.” Your other friend says, rolling her eyes as she takes a seat in front of your desk.

But you think. You scan Yuuri as she’s sitting alone, getting ready for the class neatly. She’s completely isolated from everyone, knowing that every girl in the class hates her. Is she really okay with that? How can she live with this feeling of the girls snickering and talking behind her back like she’s not in the room with us. You know the feeling, how everyone thought you were just acting cute and innocent in front of the boys in middle school. You couldn't stand being called awful and annoying in your last two years.You hated being alone, isolated from everyone and not having friends anymore. So you made a decision, you created a new version of yourself. You wanted to bring down your feminine appeal as much as you could so others wouldn't hate you. So what happened in middle school, wouldn’t happen again.

That’s why everyday, you buy a full bag of breads, and ramens at the cafeteria, exclaiming that you are so hungry.

“I could eat a horse. Will this be enough?” You whine, already walking back to your classroom with your friends ahead of you.

“You do this everyday, Y/N – it’s honestly impressive.”

You smile to yourself mischievously, paying no attention to the bubbling laugh inside you. You thought it was impressive how they believed you really are like this. Doing this for two years in a row, made the whole plan actually look pretty easy for you now. Nothing could ruin your plan now, nothing.

“Hey Han!”

You nearly stop in your tracks when you hear the familiar name, curiosity picking up as you slowly turn your head to the side to see a boy standing further away from you, friends surrounding him. He looks so familiar, but also so distant from who you know.

“I told you we are way past formalities! Just call me by my name.” The boy says, smiling at his friends as he takes a piece of candy from one of them.

You must be staring, because suddenly you feel weight on your shoulders almost dragging you down. “Oh, look at that. Y/Nnie finally has a crush on somebody? And it’s a junior?”

Asumi says, her voice snapping you back to reality as panic rises within you and an alarm sets off. “W-what? Don't be ridiculous, no way!

She giggles and lets your shoulders go, flicking your forehead softly to tease you more. “I’m just joking, you are not cut out for love Y/N.”

“Seriously, if you were more careful with your womanly assets you’d be totally popular with boys!” Says Yumi, your other friend. It almost makes you want to turn around and leave them there with their pathetic ideas, but you stand your ground and laugh it off. “Come on now, I’m terrible with boys anyway – why would I pay attention to them then -”

In the middle of your sentence a shoulder bumps into you, making you almost drop your bag in your hands. You gasp slightly, and reach for the bag before it could fall – but the mystery person gets ahead of you and the bag lands in his hands. The second when you want to lift your head up and apologize, your heart stops.

“That’s really unattractive food.”

It seems like time stops, everybody around you slows down and it’s just you and him. It's like you immediately know who it was.

It’s the presence you are familiar with.

Somehow your whole body wakes up, heart going at an irregular speed just from one sentence and your eyes are already searching for the lost figure in the waves of students. Asumi and Yumi curiously look at you and the innocent situation,trying to get a word out of you, but in no vain, you are totally frazzled in your head. “Dongmin..?” You mumble to yourself, your eyes zigzagging between students.

“Y/N? Let’s go, we have a lecture soon.” Somebody says but you pay no attention to it as you almost immediately answer them.

“Go on without me, I forgot to buy something.”

And before they could say anything else, your legs are already taking you where you saw the last bit of him. You are running, almost bumping into everyone who gets in your way. You don’t know if it really is or not, his voice and height not matching the measurements in your head from years ago. You didn’t see his face, so why do you think it was him? So why do you assume it’s him after all these years? You pant by the time you reach the courtyard, seeing a glimpse of his uniform walking away further from you.

You take a few steps out in the yard, your lips parting and ready to call out to him – just to see if it’s really him. To see his face and hear his voice.

“Taesan!”

A voice suddenly says from behind you at the threshold, making you freeze on the spot when the so-called Taesan turns around in your way and sends a small smile. It looks like him, and that’s all you could say about him. It’s not him, and you know it. But do you truly believe it?

“Taesan! Are you hitting the school grounds? Let me join.” The stranger walks past you in Taesan’s way, his arm swinging around his shoulders, both of them making their way to the other side of school.

It was all you could think about that day.

How did you mistake someone for him? He looked the same as him, but he moved away years ago without a word, why would he come back all of the sudden, and especially now? Was it your mind messing with you? There are times when you wish you could go back to those days and tell him how wrong you were and it was a misunderstanding, wishing he could be here now. But it was unnecessary. To think about what could’ve happened and what not.

You sigh and follow the same path as everyday to your home.kicking the dust on the pavement as you mindlessly mumble under your breath. “I’m so foolish. Besides, what could happen if I meet him again? Then everyone would hate him in school if they find out I’m being friendly with a guy. Stop it Y/N, just stop.”

While talking to yourself, you notice Taesan standing a few steps ahead of you in the distance, his body turned in your way as he heard your mumbling presence. You blush, covering your mouth and shaking your head all in one second. “I-I’m not following you! I swear.” You quickly explain, a frown forming on your face as you know exactly what this guy is thinking of you. You look like a stalker.

But he lives in the same neighbourhood? How come you’ve never seen him before?

Taesan pays no mind to your excuses. He simply looks over his shoulder before turning in the park next to the street, slowly and surely walking away from you as you stand there dumbfoundedly. And when your eyes follow him, you suddenly remember. This is the park.

Curiosity sparks up in you, following him in quick, but quiet steps.

It’s him! It’s actually him!

You go up on the steps and turn in the corners, practically running until you meet with the familiar brick temple where you first saw him.

And you see him once again, sitting on the ground,leaning on the brick wall with his head hung low. Your panting makes his head perk up, his eyes landing on you. The moment you lock eyes, you can feel it. Your mind running in circles you part your lips and say –

“Dongmin?” You blink, licking your lips once to prevent it from going dry enough so you can’t talk. The wind blows your hair and suddenly you feel your bones shaking in nervousness.

“It’s Taesan, actually.” He softly answers, finally hearing his voice. It’s deep and husky, something so distant from what you know.

A beat passes. Then another.

And by the time he answers you are already turning away, wanting to walk home and never meet this guy again because it’s not him and will never be.

“It came down pretty suddenly, right?”

You stop in your tracks because your legs gave up on obeying you. You look up at the sky and see the clear, sunny but slightly cloudy day shining down on you. And you feel it, you feel him.

You turn around softly, and he’s looking at you.

He’s smiling at you with his soft eyes, his lips curled up into a soft smile because everything about him was so soft. It makes your heart ache, and eyes blink repeatedly as you try to understand what he’s saying.

The voice, and the height – it’s all different and yet,

This boy standing in front of you now, is your first ever love.

‧₊𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐 @ astrasng 2025

⋮ do not copy, translate, steal, or modify without permission! ⋮

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astrasng · 14 days ago

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BLUEEE’S 82M DEBUT WE CHEEREDD😋😋

(𐙚⋆.˚) meant to be (dialed)

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ [nam seongmo x reader] ...୨♡୧... w. curse words, kms jokes! ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

𐙚 blue's corner ;; 82major tmrwsuns debut with the love of my life OR WHAT ! everyone say WE LOVE YOU SEONGMO (im actually shitting my pants but we NEED more 82major content and who am i if im not the one to write it) (lowkey have down bad ot6 texts on the works) (please like me 82major nation) 𐙚 taglist ;; @tiramisumin @astrasng 𐙚 back to the masterlist. 𐙚 please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!!

#seongmo x reader #82major #nam seongmo #82major x reader #82major texts #seongmo #seongmo texts #82major seongmo

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astrasng · 14 days ago

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i am too stunned to even speak

≡ DOORS WIDE SHUT !! HWANG SEONGBIN

(in which you can’t ignore your bestfriend’s voice through the bathroom door ๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵) : 1757 wds : smut (mdni!) + voyerism + friends 2 lvrs : my first smut on this account hehe. i get shy writing smut so it might be messy but seongbin has been on my mind a lot recently. i wanted to give him some love lol

You shouldn’t be here. You know you shouldn’t be, but you can’t find a reason to leave. As much as you’d like to ignore it, he’s making the task impossible. Just in the way he calls your name—like a soft plea only you can satisfy—you feel obliged to stay.

His voice is quiet, barely audible through the bathroom door, but your name stands out clearly between his short breaths. You can feel your cheeks burning up, as his breathing slowly shifts to muted whimpers so desperate to keep a quiet tone.

It’s all so entrancing—the sounds he makes, the blindness of it all making your imagination run wild from the other side of the door. After turning you down for the sake of friendship, he says your name that way—behind closed doors. It feels unfair.

The more he tries to quiet himself, the more alluring his voice becomes. Through the wooden door you can hear him, muffling himself as he can—perhaps with his hand or a cloth—but his desperate tone manages to break through that silence, keeping you enthralled.

It feels beyond you; your body acts before your reasoning. Every part of you wants to provide him with what he craves so strongly. With each needy groan you’re inches closer to the door.

Your hand lands against the doorknob with a soft thud, not too loud but loud enough for him to catch it. An array of swearing follows along with other frantic movements all around the bathroom.

A cough, then a zip up, toilet flushing, containers falling to the ground, more cussing. You almost laugh at the mess he’d become after being so daring in the first place, instead you wait, giving him the illusion of being in control.

After a couple more minutes of tap water gushing, he clears his throat once before opening the door. He stands there in the doorway with nothing but his sweatpants--paired with an obvious print and a t-shirt tossed over his shoulder, messy hair cherry-ing the cake.

“Oh. Thought you were asleep.” He says running his fingers through the nest on his head, a casual tone that twists your face into a frown.

“I was.” You raise an eyebrow, hoping to get a reaction out of him but instead he gives a quick nod before walking past you.

Before he can take another step out the door you step in between. You can see his expression grow nervous, the smile playing on his lips twitching along with his nerves.

“You can't just walk away like that..." You whine softly. You can hear yourself, and you hate the sound of just how obvious your longing is. For his touch, for his call.

“Seongbin…” Your fingers reach for him, landing carefully on his abdomen. His skin lightly damp with sweat, though your focus lies in his eyes.

You can only give him so many signs, silently hoping he will choose to pick up on them. His gaze shifts to your hand on his skin then back to your face.

"Why won't you just sleep?" His voice comes out as a soft plea, while his eyes dance around your features. With the push of his forehead against yours, every inch of your face trembles with anticipation—breath grows shaky, nonstop blinking, lips quivering.

He's more gentle than you had imagined, tasting your lips delicately. His fingertips tease your neck gently, his fingers wrapping behind your neck. He uses that control to pull you in closer, deepening the kiss—your noses pressing so intimately against each other.

Then he stops.

Heavy breathing against your lips, the same controlled breaths as in the bathroom. He inches closer, placing a soft peck on your lips only to pull away. The constant push and pull, even now when you’re so closely intertwined your bodies burning with lust.

“Can I…” His voice is low, hungry, tailored to your ears, pushing your lip between your teeth. His fingers trail the hem of your shorts, teasing your thighs with a subtle touch. You glance up at him as his fingers near the slit on your shorts, biting down on your lip, the soaked fabric pressing against you from his fingers.

Embarrassment washes over your face as you nod, gaze fixed anywhere but him. His lips meet yours, and it feels different this time—more daring, entirely sensual.

As the kiss grows deeper you lose all sense of your surroundings, you can taste him as much as he can taste you, your tongues constantly longing for that familiar taste. You let him guide you backwards, resting your back against the wall behind you. You slide your hand further up his chest, teasing his nipple between your fingers.

He hums against your lips, sliding his hand down your shorts’ waistband. His fingers trace the outline of your lips, your whole body gives in-–your fingers digging into his skin, your weight resting against the wall.

A smile plays on his lips as he cups your jaw, he wets your neck savouring your flavour carefully, with a kiss. His fingers tease the wet skin between your legs, gliding along the fine line from your clit to your entrance. You get no warning when he pushes his fingers in, pursing your lips together you try to contain your cries as his fingers fill in your walls.

Your quiet moans fill the large suite you share, he hums along, groaning against your neck, taking pleasure in your pleasure. His fingers feel nothing like yours have ever felt, so much thicker, so much faster than you can take. The more you hold it in, the louder you moan from his toying, he knows exactly where to tease you to make you give in.

“It’s okay baby, you can let it out.” He faces you, his thumb swiping gently against your cheeks wiping the lone tear that rested there. The exhausted look on your face, only pushing his fingers deeper against your sensitive spot, searching for that eye rolling shock.

Your arm slides in over his shoulder and you pull him in with a push on his head, longing for that thrill in his entrancing kisses. He plays with your lips, stimulating your clit with fast friction with his tongue pressing against yours, holding up your jaw with a firm grip.

It almost hurts, all the pleasure building up in your body as your legs grow weaker under his influence. Then It happens—in a second everything blanks. You feel your whole body tense up and then nothing, not even your breathing.

Still, you feel his hands on you, his fingers inside you pulling out, leaving you empty, throbbing around nothing.

“Deep breaths y/n.” you follow his caring instructions, as your eyes blink open. Your head is still a mess from the shock, but you can’t help yourself from craving more. He’d grown so big, through pleasuring you, you couldn’t just get it off your mind.

Through his sweatpants, his wet tip rubs against your thigh, staining his pants, and your skin beneath him. Looking up at him as he presses his coated fingers against your lips, you let your mouth hang open, his fingers against your tongue allowing you to taste yourself on him.

He inhales sharply, a growing lust in his eyes as he watches you. His bulge throbs insistently against your thigh, making you reach for it—pressing your hand softly against his thick shaft through the fabric.

He follows your arm down, watching your hand feel him carefully across his shaft. The layer of cloth around him only emphasizes the girth, your hand barely wrapping around it as you touch him.

Next to your ear, he lets out quiet exhales gradually growing shaky as you pull loose the knot on his pants. A long pull on the waistband, and it springs out of his pants, throbbing with slick threads coating the tip leaking against the wood floor.

You look at him with a stunned smile—trying to hide the curve on your lips at the sight. He can’t help smiling back as he shies away from your stare, resting his head on your shoulder.

“I’m only like this cause it’s you, you know?” He mumbles on your neck.

“Really?” You brush your fingers on his tip, and he hums—low, needy, patiently waiting for you.

Your fingers carefully wrap around his cock, slowly stroking him as his tip rubs against you. His soft moans play in your ears, with each stroke—pleading for more, praising your touch. Your name rolling off his tongue ever so often, his lips planting desperate kisses on your neck.

His lips feel soft against you, lost in the feeling you feel his body press closer into you. His tip slips in between your thighs, so closely against aching lips. With each movement, his shaft brushes perfectly against your clit, it almost feels intentional—the push and pull.

Through the thin layer of your shorts, you feel him against you, and the feeling only makes you want more. You push down your shorts, pressing his cock against your wet slit, the friction making your breath hitch.

All the lubricant between your legs push him in smoothly, a simultaneous groan escaping both your lips as he takes up all the space inside you. He slides his hand under your thigh, lifting up your leg against him thrusting inside your tight grip.

He makes you hurt, your whole body tenses up from the pain. Despite this, you beg him not to stop, to push deeper inside.

“Fuck. So tight.” He groans loudly as he pushes himself inside you. Your fingers dig into his back wincing from the effort, feeling your insides being stretched out.

He pulls out slowly to push back in forcefully, moaning longingly against your neck. You can feel him throbbing inside you, before pulling out quickly. A sudden warm wetness splashes against your pussy, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he squeezes his tip wiping it on your stained skin.

He takes a step back as your arms drop to your side, his eyes scan the mess he had made before glancing back up at you. Before you can let out a sound he interrupts.

“I’m terrible at aiming.” He smiles, you roll your eyes glancing down at the mess on your body.

“I would’ve preferred you doing it inside me.” You mumble, pouting at the floor between you.

“Yeah?” He asks and you can almost hear the smirk forming on his lips as you watch his steps come closer, “I can make that happen.”

#finally seeing something about 82 #AND SEONGBIN?!#SEONGBIN!!!!#my little love he would be such a bottom but also a pleaser 😖#82major #82major fluff #82major headcanons #82major seongbin #82major smut #kpop fanfic

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astrasng · 16 days ago

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whoever wants to see a short fic about taesan basically being kou BC HE IS KOU AND KOU IS HIM pls tellme and i’ll tag you bc i’m going insane for seeing the similarities

ps: HERE’S THE FIRST CHAPTER

#kpop #bnd #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor angst #boynextdoor x reader #bnd taesan #bnd fic #bnd x reader #bnd fluff #bnd angst #bnd imagines #bnd smau #han taesan #han taesan x reader #taesan x reader #taesan fluff #boynextdoor #boynextdoor x yn #boynextdoor fluff

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astrasng · 19 days ago

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࣪ ִֶָ☾ &TEAM

check rules for symbol guide !

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ SHOW ME || M.FUMA ♱

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astrasng · 20 days ago

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࣪ ִֶָ☾ BOYNEXTDOOR

check rules for symbol guide !

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ BND boyfriend habits ✿

ִֶָ☾ SERIES

BLUE SPRING || HAN DONGMIN inspired by the anime blue spring ride

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astrasng · 20 days ago

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࣪ ִֶָ☾ SEVENTEEN

check rules for symbol guide !

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ I LIKE THEM PATHETIC || K.MINGYU ♱

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ marlboro reds || C.SEUNGCHEOL ♱

⤷hard hours:

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astrasng · 24 days ago

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SHOW ME || M.FUMA

you seem to he distant to your boyfriend. why is that? turns out you are just sexually frustrated and want nothing more than fuma.

❕ warning : smut, jealous fuma, IN HEATTT reader lmao, dom!fuma, teasing, unprotected sex, tears, curses, breeding,throat fucking.

wc : 4.6k

as always,

enjoy!♡

Fuma wasn’t typically the jealous type. He swore that jealousy is based on uncertainty in a relationship. Not trusting each other and not being loyal to feelings. He knows jealousy is eating the person alive when it happens, tearing the inside apart and overthinking every little thing that happens to their partner right in front of their eyes. And how does he know that if he’s not the jealous type? Well, it happened now. He just can’t help the boiling feeling building up inside him, it feels like someone is pouring lava down his throat to let his inside burn to ashes and cough if all up. Although as he’s watching you chatting and laughing with his band members he feels that everything would be better than this. Seeing your hands grasping into Taki’s shirt to balance yourself so you won’t fall flat on the face as you’re laughing at something he said, or when you walk with Nicholas to the company’s cafeteria gossiping about something Fuma deadly wants to know all of the sudden.

Now, socializing and being in a good friendship with his friends wouldn’t be a problem, but see, you’ve been avoiding Fuma for days now. He randomly woke up one day and there you were, already up and ready for work, kissing him goodbye on his forehead without saying another word, leaving him in the bed confused.

At first, he was just sulky about you ignoring him, it wasn’t straight up ignoring but rather being shy around him and avoiding his gaze whenever he went close to you. Naturally, Fuma didn’t know what was the problem. He thought about your monthly cycle happening, understanding immediately if you want space. But that wasn’t the case because Fuma follows our cycle on his phone, and you just got out of it. So what was the problem? It hadn’t been that long since you two started dating, maybe you already started having second-thoughts? These thoughts filled his head all the time, not understanding why you are hanging out with everyone but him. And then after a while, it drove him crazy. Looking at you from a distance because he couldn’t be next to you, just watching you enjoy yourself while here he was, suffering from missing you.Missing your voice and hugs, telling him you missed him.

It drove him crazy.

So crazy that even Kei noticed his change in behavior. Eventually, Fuma told him what has been happening between you two, and how clueless he is. Kei had some ideas what was the problem, but he rather kept it to himself. He's a very good friend to you, but to Fuma too. He hears both sides of the story, chuckling to himself that you two can’t seem to find the solution for this problem. But he knows his friends, so when Fuma tells him his sorrows he just pats him on the shoulder and says, “Honestly, just go and talk to her. She’s your girlfriend for a reason.” with a small chuckle and leaves him in the practice room.

So on that same day,he sees you waiting in line in the downstairs cafeteria. He stops in his tracks so he can compose himself. Should he really go up to you all of the sudden? Hell, he’s your boyfriend, he can do whatever he wants. He wants to let you know how he feels about this whole situation and how bad he wants to solve it, but then he follows your figure walking towards Nicholas who seems like is waiting for you out of the line. You pass Nicholas his coffee,giving him a warm smile as you both agree on going back to practice.

If looks could kill, Fuma would massacre everyone in the downstairs lobby.

He’s not angry, he could never be at you, but rather frustrated at the timings. Something always seems to come between you two, and he can’t bring himself to break the smile on your face when you are having fun with friends.

And he can’t say anything either when he sees you playing with something on the phone with Yuma, laughing and nudging each other whenever someone misses a move. Practice is over, and Yuma usually asks for your company so he can play with someone in the dorms. And to Fuma’s luck, today is just the day. When he walks in the living room, he sees the two of you shouting over something that you find unfair, Yuma defending himself that you just saw it badly. Fuma doesn’t say anything, but marches in the kitchen to look for something to eat away the sulkiness.

“Are you crazy? It’s been hours and you still think I’m a cheater?” Yuma complains, throwing his body back on the sofa with unbelief as he looks at you with wide eyes.

“There must be something wrong with my controller.” You examine the object in your hands, knowing perfectly that it’s working smoothly, you're just not that good in the game. You know it, and he knows it too. Hell, everybody knows it, even if they are in a different dorm. Fuma would be the one who usually pulls you away from the bickering and stops the game so you can rest, but not now. And you wish he would the moment he comes home, not surprised by your presence. Only giving you a kiss on the forehead before he leaves the two of you to the game and bickering. It leaves a bittersweet taste in your mouth. Almost wanting to throw up from the guilt of ignoring him, only a snap away from actually walking up to him and telling him everything.

“Find a better reason next time.” Yuma comments, chuckling at your ‘offended’ state before he stars another round.

“Hey! I wanted to go get a drink before starting again!” You shriek, looking at the screen in disbelief but Yuma just shrugs you off. “Go, we both know I’ll win anyway.”

At his comment you hit him with a pillow and you leave his maniac laugh behind as you march into the kitchen while shaking your head. The kitchen light is off, only the moon shining in through the window situated next to the fridge as you open it, looking for the designated drink you want.

“Having fun out there?”

A voice says somewhere behind you, making you yelp out and almost hitting your head in the fridge. The drink in your hand falls to the ground, rolling all the way to the voice’s feet, making you look up at the figure as you try to calm your breathing.

“Shit, you scared me Fuma.”

He can’t help but slightly arch an eyebrow, not expecting to hear you call him by his name. You don’t usually calm him by many pet names, but a baby or a honey always slips out. He sees you fidgeting with your fingers as you close the fridge door behind you, almost melting into the metal door so you won’t be close to him. But he doesn’t give a fuck.

He had enough.

He grabs the bottle in his hands, rotating in between them a few times before he drags his eyes up to yours. A shiver runs down your spine as he looks at you with narrowed eyes, his warm gaze he usually gives you now nowhere to be seen but you understand. You are giving him a hard time, but this isn’t how you wanted to talk things out. No.

But as you scan your eyes all over Fuma, you nervously swallow and take another step back to fully lean on the fridge. And he takes the advantage to step closer to you, only a step away from you. Fuma feels his blood boil again at your behavior, but at the same time he sees that there’s still something bothering you.

“You didn’t answer me.” He rasps in a low voice, his eyes focused on you only, taking in your posture and reactions. You can’t help but bite down your bottom lip, not being able to see him fully makes you slightly frustrated. “N..no. Yuma and I are…bickering again, I guess.” You answer him, not sure what he wanted to hear. He always leaves you alone when you are hanging out with one of the members, not really interfering into anything you got going on but now? You wish he would. You wish he would tell you like other times that you should stop playing games and eat something. You wish he would realize what you’ve been wanting all along.

Fuma nods slowly, stepping closer to you again until his chest is only a few inches away from yours.You can practically feel his warm breath fanning your face, his chest brushing against yours, equaling you even brighter red. At this closeness you look up at him, but then you immediately feel your cheeks heat up and you rather look away somewhere behind him. He hums at your reaction and lets a small smirk decorate his face before grabbing your chin to face him again, your eyes now boring into his. “Then are you ready to spend time with me now, baby?”

Your heart almost stops as this never happened between the two of you before, of course you are close and you’ve done touching things before, but this tension is something else now. And this is exactly what you’ve been waiting for. You can’t read Fuma’s mind, but as he leads you to his bedroom you just wish he feels the same way and he thinks the same thing just as you. His body in front of you almost makes you run out of the house, lacing your fingers with his while walking towards his room. Yuma in the living room didn’t even question where you are going, used to the fact that Fuma often drags you away when you two stay up late playing. But this isn’t about that. Not now.

Fuma opens his bedroom door, his usual detergent and freshener scent immediately hitting both of you, your stomach stirring up at the familiar feeling. When you step in you only wish you wouldn’t act so awkwardly, but you do. You just stand there at the end of the bed and watch Fuma carefully, seeing him moving towards his dresser and fishing out a new clean shirt to lay it down on his bed.

The one you love to wear.

After he’s done with that, he goes to the bathroom and brings out the fluffy socks you usually wear to bed,laying it down next to the shirt. At his actions your heart squeezes together, making you almost shed a tear at his thoughtfulness. But you pull yourself together and take a big breath. “Fuma, I feel like we should talk.”

Fuma’s heart almost stops beating as you say those words. He thinks about all the excuses he thought about earlier today, second thoughts, he did something bad or you needed space. Nevertheless, he looks up at you and sits down on his bed calmly. Seeing his big eyes looking at you almost makes you kiss his pout away and forget that anything happened. Forgetting your selfish and filthy thoughts and live your best life with the best boyfriend. You mentally slap yourself and inch closer to him, standing only a step away from him. “I know I have been a little…distant.” You start slowly, your hands still fidgeting with each other. Fuma’s eyes are trained on you closely,watching your every move. “I just had a lot on my mind and I didn’t want to bore you with them.” There’s a shakiness in your voice but you try to push it down,licking your lips before continuing again. “I’m so sorry if I hurted you because of this.You probably hate me for this.”

Fuma’s ears pick up the tone of your voice and immediately reach out for your hands, dragging you in between his legs and placing his big hands on your cheeks. “Darling, I’m not angry. I could never be angry at you, okay? I was just worried about you, that’s it.” His voice is soothing and calm, his prior nonchalant behavior nowhere to be seen as his worried side comes alive. He tries to calm you before you could freak out even more, his hands caressing your cheeks as he’s holding eye contact with you. “Do you want to talk about it? About what’s been on your mind?”

The question is genuine, he just wants to help you and know what the problem is. He needs you to know that you can talk about anything with him, he’s certainly not the type who judges. And you should be nothing but grateful for him. That he cares for you this deeply. But the blood stops pumping inside you when you hear his question. Do you want to talk about it? You don’t know either. Should you really tell how badly you need him in other ways? He surely understands, he’s your boyfriend.

“Well u..uhm..”

He sees your hesitation and the way you hold yourself back, not finding the right words. “Baby, you don’t have to, I just want to understand what’s been going on in your mind, hmm?” His hands slide all the way down to your hips, keeping you in between his legs securely as he listens to your words. “I’m here for you, whatever it is..” He whispers as he presses a kiss on your hip bone, making you shiver again while trying to stay focused. “I know Fuma, but you know..” As he continues to busy himself with you, your fingers find his black hair to fidget with, your breathing still labored as you try to push away your thoughts. “I was just thinking about that we’ve been together for a while now..”

“Mhmm.” He hums agreeingly, taking one of your hands to his lips and kissing your knuckles the same way he did on your hip bone.

“....and I was thinking about maybe, maybe...taking our, well, love life a step further?”

Fuma stops in his tracks as those words leave your mouth, his heart beating so fast that he might think he passes out. You sound so insecure and unsure what you want that he wants you to just gather in his arms and kiss all the problems away. A hundred thoughts go through his head, trying to find the right words so he can calm you down. But it’s in no use, because the minute he looks up into your eyes he sees something else. Something glinting in your eyes, darker and something he never saw this deep before.

Lust and hunger.

And this way, everything makes sense now.

His lips softly stop on your knuckles, and you stop too, almost forgetting how to breathe when you see him sigh slowly and putting his forehead on your stomach. You swear you hear him grunt softly when your hand slides down to his cheek, trying to see if you didn’t step over a line. “Fuma...please say something.” You mumble out, your fingers continuously caressing his cheek and trying to make him look at you again, but he keeps his head hung low as his hands are getting tighter on your hips. As you feel him sigh again you swallow hard, fearing that your relationship lasted this long.

“F…fuma, if I overstepped something-”

“I’m…I need you to tell me what you mean by that.” He cuts you off as he takes a breath, looking at you suddenly with lustful eyes, his breathing labored all of the sudden. “Talk to me.” He adds, almost saying it like a pleading. You can visibly see how your words affected him, his change of behavior visible as he takes turns into a more serious mood. His chest is heaving up and down just as yours, your thoughts of actually having Fuma in other ways excites you even more, hopeful wishes overfilling you as you keep eye contact with him.

With a sudden rush of braveness, you squat down between his legs, your hands still holding his cheeks to keep his eyes on you. Fuma’s eyes slightly widen as he sees you on your knees, your eyes blinking up at him with lust. “I missed you so much, Fuma. And I think you missed me too, right?” You tilt your head to the side a little bit, seeing his wheels turning in his head as you wait for his answer. One of his hands slides on top of yours and squeezes it, momentarily closing his eyes as he answers you. “Y/N…” He says warningly as he takes a breath, opening his eyes and finding yours immediately. “You know well how much I missed you.”

“Then let me show you instead what has been going on in my mind.”

With stable breathing, you pull off his sweats he was wearing to practice and try to swallow down the nervous lump in your throat, watching Fuma’s reaction when you fish him out of his boxers. With slightly trembling hands, your pointer finger circles around his pink tip as he sucks in a breath, his cock almost jumping at your touch. When you don’t hear any uncomfortable sound, you continue your work, your fingers smearing the precum on his cock as he leans back slightly. Your hand fully wraps around his length, testing the waters as you kitty lick his cock as his eyes are transfixed on you, growing darker by the seconds. Without another word, you take him into your mouth, your warmness immediately firing up his body as you lick and suck his length with eagerness.He lets out a sigh at your contact, his head falling forward as he watches your every move with narrowed eyes.

“Is this what you wanted all along? My cock in your beautiful mouth,hmm?” He grunts, his hand slowly sneaking into your hair as a sign of courage to continue. With steady breathing you try to have a rhythm as you take him deeper in your mouth,swirling your tongue around his tip and veins running down his shaft. The feeling of his heavy member pushing down your tongue makes you moan out, his bittersweet taste filling your mouth.

“Then suck it like a good girl you are.”

Your eyes nearly roll back from the sudden nickname,your thighs squeezing together uncontrollably as you try to ease the throbbing pain between your legs.

Your hands jerk the rest of the length you couldn’t fit in your mouth, occasionally squeezing it while hollowing your cheeks around his cock simultaneously. Fuma visibly tries to hold himself back as his hands are softly stroking your hair to the side, exposing your neck as he lovingly looks down at you with lust filled eyes. His mouth only lets out a few subtle sounds, making you almost whine out at the lack of response you’re getting from him. It makes your blood boil slightly, even when you finally have his cock where you wanted it for so long, you can’t help but feel annoyed.

“Don’t hold yourself back, Fuma. Please..” You whisper while catching your breath between licks, his head suddenly rolling back as he hears your whiny and raspy voice calling out for him. It takes everything in him not to grab you and throw you on the bed, making you cry out his name until he sees you cry from pleasure.

“I see that look in your eyes, baby. Just let it out.”

You can literally hear Fuma sigh before feeling his hand tighten around your hair slightly,making you freeze in your spot as you take your eyes up to him again.Fuma’s gaze is directly on you, looking down at your lips still coated with the mix of his precum and saliva only makes him want to lose control now. And that's exactly what he will do. He lets go of your hair, letting out a deep sigh as he keeps eye contact with you.

“Put your hands behind your back.” He mumbles lowly, his eyes trained only on you and your actions as he waits for you to obey him. The air around you thickens as you swallow hard, your body moving on its own like his words are magic. Your heartbeat quickens up as his sharpened words soak in under your skin, breathing still labored and ragged as you slowly put your shaking hands behind your back just like he told you to do. He licks his lips, slowly standing up in front of you and towering over you with his height. It feels like a wet dream coming true, his tall form standing over you and looking down at your pathetic, needy body, waiting to get fucked. You squeeze your hand so hard that you probably cut circulation at this point as you watch Fuma grabbing his wet cock and stroke it a few times. He groans at the feeling, directing his tip to your puffy, waiting lips – tapping the head against your bottom lip like a test. “Open it, baby.” He murmurs, pushing your lips apart with anticipation as he groans once again. You open them, slowly letting his length enter your mouth once again.

And it’s inevitable.

With one sudden, and harsh move he bottoms out inside your throat, feeling you gag around his cock at the unexpected rush. There’s an immediate line of tears coating your eyeline, trying to blink them away as you look up into his eyes. Your knees are aching, head swimming with the thought of only him. It’s a news side, a more possessive one which you don’t mind in one bit. The first roll of his hips has you whimpering under him, thighs pressing together. “Fuck.” The word slips through his gritted teeth, pushing his hair back with his other hand.

He sees you trying to squirm away from his quick movements,stilling you with his hand in your hair. He caresses your cheek with one hand,watching you with a tight jaw. “Uh-uh, don’t run. You are mine now.”

You hum around him, tongue flattening, jaw slacking and eyes locked on his like it’s the only place left. He groans - it’s raw, like it slips out before he could stop it. It takes everything for you to not grab his thighs with your hands, instead you hollow your cheeks and try to move in the rhythm he set up.

“Sweetheart, you’ve been keeping yourself away from me – all this for what? So you can get fucked just how you deserve?” He hisses,hands twitching in your hair. You moan, sucking deeper as an answer. The vibration makes him jerk slightly forward, his other hand now finding the back of your neck. “You want all of it, right baby?”

Even if you could have the time to answer, he’s long rolling his hips deeper down your throat, making you gag around his length with burning eyes and knees as you take him deeper. You take everything he’s giving you because you asked for it and swallow around him with a moan. He sinks so deep inside you that there's saliva spilling out around your mouth dropping on the floor. “Look at you – you were made for this.”

He hisses as you reach a point under his tip, his grip tightening on your hair like he needs something to grasp into. He fucks into your mouth like it’s a punishment. He wants you to understand how much he missed you, how hard it was on him that you closed yourself out from his life. He makes sure to make you understand, he’s hungry for you.

Your throat tightens, and it feels like a sign telling him you feel the same way. You moan and gag around him exactly how you wanted,clinging to his thighs now as you can’t feel your arms anymore. He moans – his hips jerking harder and messier, feeling your throat pulse around him. “Fucking hell,baby. You have me so deep –”

You whimper around him loudly.

And the next thing you know, you feel his bittersweet taste filling your mouth as he curses, using your throat like it’s only a toy. He grabs your cheeks softly as he comes down your throat, thrusting deeper as he emptied himself inside you. Everything is sticky by the time he pulls completely away from your mouth,the mix of spit and arousal connecting to your swollen lips. He scans your face for any discomfort or disgust but all he can find is pure bliss sitting on your tears covered face. The way he’s looking at you is like he’s trying to engrave this moment into his head, wanting to remember this forever.

“Look at you covered in spit and tears like you were made for this.” He’s back to caressing your cheeks again, his loving gaze engraving under your skin as he tilts your chin up towards him. But just when he wants to lean down to your level, he feels one of your hands grasping at his thigh greedily, looking up into his eyes like a small puppy. He smirks to himself, looking at you with narrowed eyes. “Filthy girl wants more, huh?”

You nod shamelessly, clawing at his thighs at this point.

“Say it baby. Tell me what you want.”

A small whimper escapes you once again. “I-I want you… All of you..”

He exhales,paying no mind to your weak explanation. “Want to start that again, sweetheart?” Says with a stern voice, his calloused hand sliding down to your sobbing throat.

A small, frustrated sob breaks out from you, grasping into his hand as you look deeply into his eyes. “Please, Fuma. I need your cock. I need to feel you inside me, I need to show you how much I missed you.”

And soon enough, Fuma’s delicate finger pulls down your pants along with your soaked panties,letting his eyes roam all over your body. When you spread out on his bed in front of him he hisses, taking your legs and opening with them with one shift motion. And what he sees, nearly makes him choke on his own words. You can hear him exhale loudly, kneeling on the bed as he grips your thighs with his hands, his eyes glued on your throbbing heat.“You wanted to play it this way huh? Let me watch you chat with everyone but me, leaving me out of everything?” He lets the words sink deep inside you while his finger teases your soft,clenching entrance. It makes you squirm – your body setting on fire once again at his simple touch.

“Shit…this pretty pussy has been this needy for me?” He murmurs,taking one finger to spread your soaked folds to win out more sounds of you. All you can do is nod, throat still hoarse and raw from his previous actions. Your knees buckle when you feel his finger dip inside you slowly, soft circles leaving you wanting for more. Then another finger slips in – and that’s when you want to scream at this point. He plunges them in and out of your soaked hole, watching his own fingers disappear in your warm walls. “That’s it baby, clench down on them like it’s my cock.”

He murmurs, keeping your thighs apart with his other hand as your body thrashes around his bed, chasing your own climax at his words. When his fingers pick up the pace, you feel the strange – but almost welcoming, familiar coil forming in your abdomen.You want to warn Fuma through short breaths and whimpers – but then he circles his thumb on your clit and that’s when you know that Fuma is practically forcing the release out of you.

“Come on angel, I want to see you fall apart.” He coos, a smirk painting his face as he fucks you through your orgasm, coating his fingers with your sweet essence. You shift to see him better,trying to calm your breathing and heaving body down as you see him lifting his fingers up to his mouth and licking all your arousal off of them, one by one. The action alone could make you come again. But then he gently guides you back down, now his body pushing you back on his disheveled bed. “We are not done yet,sweetheart.” He coos, kissing your shoulder softly as he opens your legs further away from each other. As you focus on his lips teasing your neck and trying to calm your still heaving body down, you feel his hand inching up to your shirt, pulling it up until your tits are exposed to the cold air in the room. He hums softly, his lips chasing your skin down towards your perky nipples.

And the next thing you know, is that he slips into you so easily, gripping your waist like he’s trying to grasp into anything so he won’t lose control over himself. His black hair tickles your stomach and breasts as he kisses your skin softly, groaning out in relief when he fully bottoms out.

“F-Fuma, fuck!” You moan at the stretch, your fingers tangling in his hair as you try to grasp reality.

“It’s alright baby, you’re taking it so good.” He groans against your skin, feeling our walls clamp down around him at his words. You can feel every vein, every pulse running through you, his tip poking your cervix as Fuma drives his hips back and forward again. It takes a while until he can finally bottom out, letting your walls mold around his length like a fitted glove.

He has to bury his face in the crook of your neck by the time he starts moving, inhaling the sweet scent of your body wash as he continues to bully his cock into your soaked pussy. "Why's it bad if I want to keep you all to myself?" He's practically mumbling into your skin, his hips never seeming to stop rutting into you.The sudden confession has you curling your toes, remembering all those occasions when you wanted to make him jealous on purpose. To make him finally snap and show you everything he’s got. You moan, throwing your hands on his back, scratching your nails down the delicate skin as you feel more and more of his body. “Why is it so bad if I don’t want anyone else looking at you the same way as I do?” It’s theoretical now, the questions he’s asking.

It’s always been him, his gaze that made you touch yourself under the covers when you were insecure about asking him. His name that you screamed all those nights. You want to tell all of this to him so bad, but not when your throat is raw from letting him fuck it over and over again until he coated it with his cum. Not when he has you caged under him, letting him use your body like he has been waiting for this.

So instead you lock your legs behind his back, keeping exactly where you want him. “Fuma please – p-please come inside me - nghn –” You whimper, reality setting in as you crave more of him. Craving something real from him.

And so those are the exact words that have him grunt and moan against your skin, his cock moving in and out of you at an impossible speed. He’s hunched over you, abs tightening and flexing with every sharp inhale of breath he takes.

“I’m gonna fuck myself empty,angel. Until every drop of mine nestles deep inside you just like you deserve.” He glances up into your eyes, seeing your body tired from all the times he’s edged you since you stepped into his room. “Just a little longer,sweetheart.”

“Gotta make sure your pussy knows who it belongs to.”

And that is the way you showed each other what you’ve been missing out on. It was unconscious, but always there. The feeling and the tension that both of you needed to let go. To feel each other fully and wholeheartedly. You needed his release as much as he needed yours, now not letting it go, not settling for less.

But, even if you’re spent — you know that the night won’t be ending anytime soon. Not when Fuma finally has you in his arms.

taglist : @arunainluv @liloraet @tmrwsuns

a/n : HAPPY FUMA DAYYYYY!!!!!!! finally posted on one of my biases bd lmao

important!: this is pure fiction, the act in this story is by my imagination and not based off true events. please do not copy the work.

@ astrasng 2025

⋮ do not copy, translate, steal, or modify without permission! ⋮

399 notes · View notes

astrasng · 29 days ago

Text

attention on me, baby ୭.ᐟ.ᐟ +18

mingi sometimes gets easily jealous of you talking to someone else on the phone. what do you mean you're not paying attention to him, and him only? his heart swells with toxic thougths, his mouth twitching to bite back the words he wants to say when he sees you still talking on the phone with one of your friends. he also feels guilty for acting this way, because he knows sometimes you are talking to a long distance friend which you rarely see.

he thinks he's always been a good boyfriend to you, his attention always on you even when he's away on tour. when he comes home from work you're the first thing on his mind to be with, to entertain or talk with.

and now he has been home all day, his schedule finally letting him have a few days off which is slowly coming to an end.

it was late afternoon when he heard your phone ringing in the kitchen, warning you that somebody's looking for you. big mistake, he thinks. because that was three hours ago, and when he walks in on you twirling your hair and kicking your legs on the bed he has an idea.

you're laying on your stomach with your back facing him as he stands in the doorway, your constant laughing and giggling luring him inside the shared bedroom. mingi can't stop the groan when he sees your delicate body shake from how you giggle, your legs interwined in the air making your tighs press against each other. his hands are itching to touch you the longer he keeps his eyes on you.

without another second passing, he swiftly slips further into the room, walking towards the bed as you keep chatting on the phone. when you notice your boyfriend's prescence, you turn your head to look over your shoulder straight at him, seeing him inching towards you.

naively, you smile apologizing at him as you remember what you promised a few hours ago. turning the phone away from you, you whisper to him, 'm sorry baby, i swear i'm almost done,okay? then we can watch a movie or eat something. you smile, turning back to the phone when you see mingi nod reassuringly.

however, mingi has other plans in his mind.

you feel the bed dip as he kneels on the bed behind you, one of his big hands snaking around your naked ankles to force them down on the mattress. he slowly caresses your skin on your leg, his mind immedietly clouding with dirty thoughts.

sure thing sweets, he responds simply as you can feel his hands lowering to the back of your knees, smirking when he hears your breath hitch.

as your attention has visibly shifted to mingi now, he fully lays his much bigger body on top of yours, his fingers swiping your hair to one side. but i'm hungry now. he whispers in your ear, feeling his plump lips ghosting over your neck as he badly wants to bite down on it.

you can't help but clear your throat from going dry when you feel him subtly rutting against your clothed ass, his dick hard and very visible as he now pants into your ear. you want to slap him for doing this to you when you're on the phone with someone, although his bratty side always making you feel something.

baby, why are you still on the phone? don't you want to play with me?

he whispers again, now kissing your skin sloppily on your neck as you try to wriggle your way out from under him. he groans as you press more into him by your movements, wanting nothing more now then to tear your pants off and slide his cock inside you.

you can practically feel his body heat radiating off, filling the room and you, making sure to have a light blush on your cheeks when he presses against you more. mingi lets out a muffled, satisfied moan at feeling his cock leaking with anticipation and in return you lift your hips towards him. you just want to tease me huh? you can feel me throbbing for you, don’t you princess?

with a shameless nod, you slightly bury your head in the pillows in front of you while still holding the phone to your ear. at that, mingi can’t help but snake one of his hand into your hair and pull it towards him, seeing the way you gasp out and part your lips in slight pain. with measured movements, he slowly presses his wet lips on your neck once again, making you groan out into the phone.

is everything okay? you sound weird says someone in the phone, sounding worried and also suspicious. mingi knows you're not an idiot and could easily hang up the phone, cutting of the line in one swift motion. but you lay still, your throat free for his lips to kiss, body pressed against him and waiting to be fucked for teasing him so mercilessly.

as mingi thinks.

so he grinds into you with much force than before, making you now let out a small groan at the sensation. mingi smirks and bites down on your skin, letting it go slowly as he whispers you like this? like it when someone hears you getting fucked and teased like a slut? licking the spot with his tongue and working his way down towards the crook of your neck. when you want to answer somehow -- anyhow, he pries your your tightly closed legs up, settling between the small space and grind against your throbbing core.

the grey sweatpants of his can't hide the fact how much effect you have on him, a small wet patch forming just where his tip is trying to poke through the fabric. hell, if it would be enough, he'd fuck you then and there with all his clothes on, but he needs to feel you.

so he does.

he takes his hand and with one motion, pulls those tight gym short off of you, now your plump ass on display infront of him. he nearly chokes on his own words when he sees you wiggling your ass more towards him,now obviously wanting the same as mingi.

fuckk baby, he groans and slaps one of your cheeks almost immediately, bringing your hips impossibly close to his crotch. he can see the way his cock bumps into your clothed heat, already seeing your panties soaked through the fabric with arousal. i wish you could see us

with all the energy left you try to turn your head to the side, seeing his eyebrows furrowed and lips red from biting it so hard, his hands gripping you tightly against him so you can't slip away. it makes you want to moan at the sight, seeing him being so whipped just from you laying on the bed. as you scan his face he suddenly locks eyes with you, smirking at you as he grabs your phone and in no time -- throws it somewhere in the room on the floor. we don't fucking need that now he growls, pulling his sweatpants down enough so he can slap his heavy and red cock on one of your cheeks, groaning freely now as he can see his precum smearing on the skin.

it feels like there's not enough air in the room when you feel mingi slipping his tip under your panties,dragging it impossibly slow between your wet folds like he's trying to torture you too now. you both moan at the feeling, the warmness spreading in your chest and making your hips buckle up into his touch. mingi takes one of his hand and caresses your skin, his tip poking into your warm walls while try to prop yourself up by your elbows.

and then it feels like mingi's lost control -- he lets out a broken moan and thrusts between your folds in one motion. your panties sticking to his already wet cock as his hip stutters has him repeatedly moan into the thin air, feeling you pressing yourself back into his movements more and more. it feels like something is suffocating him when you hear him whimper and mumble somewhere behind you.

come on baby, come on.

it's desperate and whiny,like the words itself feels like a torture for mingi. he sounds so helpless that your body reacts on its own, butterflies swirling in your stomach and pussy so incredibly wet just for him that you want him to dip inside you and stay there forever. feeling your own body giving up the control over you, you wiggle your body in the way so you can feel his tip propped against your entrance again, and without another thought you slowly sink down on his length as he's lost in sensations.

mingi whimpers at the sudden change, his body leaning more into you as he slowly bottoms out inside you, his hands still gripping you and keeping you just where he wants you.

mingi thinks one squeeze and he's done -- but he's wrong, because he's on cloud nine the whole time, body and mind in different places as he ruts into you like a dog in heat. he pants and groans at the feeling of you uncontrollably spasming around him, the feeling of gripping him so tightly that he nevers wants to leave. you want nothing more than to milk me, right baby? he groans into your ear, now one of his hand gripping the back of your neck and repetedly pulling your body towards him. his filthy words makes you whimper and moan his name, you backside numb from the slaps and the way it collides with mingi's body. nodding shamelessly you let him take control over you too, feeling him smirking against your skin when he places kisses on the side of your neck once again.

yeah, that’s it baby fuck yourself on me.

he groaned as your body tensed up, knowing exactly what's following in line -- the way it hits you is sudden, the wave of pleasure going through your body,ending you in a moaning mess as your climax reached you. it crashes down on mingi too, it's sudden and intense, it feels like it's never ending. he comes, so hard that it immediately spills out from around his cock -- he throws his head back with a broken moan as he slightly shakes, coating your panties with thick white ropes of cum. mingi can't help but look down once his breathing finally catches up, seeing his tip leaking with never ending cum as he finally pulls out of you and fixes your panties in a way that his and your arousal doesn't come out. you didn’t even realize you were still leaking around him until he shifted his hips, still buried deep in your swollen, overstretched walls. mingi’s hand rubbed soothing circles on the lower of your back as he winced from the cold air hitting his still wet cock, grounding himself after realizing what you did to him.

you ruin him in every way.

a/n: mingi is my ult and i rarely write about him tf😭??? btw!! i have been working on a little surprise so i'm not working on the requests currently. but i really wanted to finish and post this bc i started writing this back in january hello

important!: this is pure fiction, the act in this story is by my imagination and not based off true events. please do not copy the work.

@ astrasng 2025

⋮ do not copy, translate, steal, or modify without permission! ⋮

#kpop #mingi x reader #ateez smut #song mingi smut #song mingi ateez #ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #smut #ateez fic #kpop smut #mingi #song mingi #mingi ateez #mingi x y/n #mingi scenarios #mingi smut

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astrasng · 1 month ago

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toxic mingi? hell fucking yes

mingi as the type of boyfriend to pull up in his shiny red sports car outside your apartment after you’ve had an argument. and he begs you over the phone so just please come talk to him. “come on baby just give me one more chance.”

and you come outside and stand outside his car in your pajamas with your arms crossed. he rolls the window down, “can we go for a drive? i just wanna talk to you.” and it feels so sincere despite how much you know that it’s not. it never is.

but of course you slide into his passenger seat just like you do every time. and you let him put his hand on the back of your headrest as the car smoothly pulls away from your place.

and he keeps his arm there the whole time. invading your space. eventually his hand moves to your thigh. he softly rubs his hand up and down the soft skin. “talk to me baby…” he says gently, “let’s work this out mkay?”

you roll your eyes and glare at him—never even attempting to move his hand. “why do we do this every time? why do you do this every time?” he stays quiet. “god mingi it’s like you don’t even fucking like me. all i ask is for you not to get wasted and ditch me at every. single. party.” you poke a finger into his chest, “what is so fucking important to you that warrants bringing me to a party just to ignore me the second alcohol is involved.”

he sighs and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, “sweetheart i’m sorry,” he whispers, “i just…lose myself a bit when i’m drunk.”

you roll your eyes and turn away from him. and he knows his apologies are never going to help things. “baby….” he leans over the center console to tilt your chin towards him and you let him. he frowns when he sees you still glaring at him. his hand falls to your neck, and now that he’s fully in your space, his all-too-familiar cologne filling your lungs, you’re finding it much harder to say no to him. tentatively, he presses his lips to your jaw, the sensation making you draw in a sharp breath. and when he makes an effort to pull your over the center console and into his lap, you climb over without any resistance.

mingi’s hands grip your thighs and you instinctively grip his shoulders. “let me make it up to you,” he whispers against your lips.

and of course you let him, because you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#mingi x reader #ateez x reader #kpop #ateez smut #mingi smut

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astrasng · 2 months ago

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oh i’m - OH I’M -

#kpop #murata fuma #&team #&team x reader #&team hard thoughts #&team fuma #fuma #&team hard hours #&team smut #&team imagines #&team fluff

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astrasng · 2 months ago

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alr now where TF is the audience? THE CROWD?

WET & WILLING

Submissive Bf Jeon Jungkook x Dominate Gf F! Reader!

Jungkook’s body trembles, aching and desperate beneath your teasing touch. Handcuffed and exposed, every whispered “good boy” drives him closer to the edge. His hips jerk violently, craving release but begging for more control. When he finally cums, it’s raw, hungry, and completely surrendered—pure need and submission laid bare, all for you.

WARNINGS: read here, for mature audiences.

WC:9k

The steam curled around both of you, softening the sharp lines of muscle and shadow. Jungkook towered over you beneath the hot stream, water slicking down his back in rivulets that traced every dip and ridge from shoulder to spine. His hair was dark and wet, flattened to his forehead, and his breath came low and heavy—still recovering from the gym, from the weight of the day.

You leaned in and pressed a slow kiss between his shoulder blades.

He flinched—just slightly—but it wasn’t from pain. He was sensitive, wired for it, every nerve closer to the surface than he liked to admit. You watched the way his hands flexed, the slow ripple in his back when he exhaled through his nose.

He turned.

Water streamed down his chest, across his tattooed arm, down the ridges of his abdomen. His eyes met yours—half-lidded, already vulnerable. That needy tension he carried after workouts, after restraint, had started to simmer.

You kissed his chest, just below the collarbone, lips warm against his overheated skin. “Mm,” you hummed, dragging your hands slowly down the sore ridges of his abs, “wanna handcuff you. Let the water touch you instead of me.”

His breath caught. You felt it in his chest, in the way his body arched forward slightly as your palm swept down. He hissed when you passed over a tight knot near his ribs.

Then you stepped back. Fast.

You left the bathroom with the water still running and padded into the bedroom, heartbeat quick. The stainless steel cuffs were on the nightstand—polished, cold, waiting. You grabbed them and came back just as fast, the metal already cooling your hand.

Jungkook looked over his shoulder when you stepped back in, eyes a little hazed, lips parted. He didn’t speak—but his body was tense with anticipation, with that unspoken question: What now?

You didn’t answer.

You stepped close, pressed the chilled metal against his nipple. He jolted, muscles twitching under your touch.

“Cold,” he gasped, voice a cracked whisper, “very cold—”

But he didn’t pull away.

You smiled, slow and close to cruel, watching his body react before his words did. The cuffs gleamed in your palm as the water kept pouring down behind him, hot and unforgiving.

And you hadn’t even locked them on yet.

Your smile didn’t falter as you trailed the metal lower—just a little. Enough to let the weight of it drag across his stomach, cold against heat, making him tense and breathe harder.

Jungkook pushed his wet hair back with one hand, water streaming down his temples, his jaw tight. His other hand braced against the slick tile behind him. His chest was rising faster now, pink from the heat and the teasing, nipples stiff where the cold had kissed them.

His eyes dropped to your hand—the one holding the cuffs.

“Lower,” he murmured, voice thick, lips wet, “wanna feel it… against my cock.” The honesty of it made your stomach tighten. No hesitation. Just hunger.

But you didn’t rush.

You let the metal drift a few centimeters lower, dragging the cold curve just along the edge of his hip bone, watching the way his cock twitched—already semi, already aching.

Still, not low enough.

You leaned in, slow and deliberate, your breath warm against his damp skin. “You want the cuffs,” you murmured, brushing your nose against his jaw. “But not around your wrists yet, hmm?”

He shook his head once, barely.

So you let the cuff edge trace lower—until it brushed the base of him. Cold steel against flushed heat.

His body jolted again.

“Fuck,” he whispered, voice cracking. His hips shifted, trying not to move, trying not to rut into the teasing touch.

You looked up at him, close. “Sensitive?”

He bit down on a shaky laugh, then nodded, jaw clenched. “You know I am.”

You hummed and kissed his collarbone. “And that’s why I’m going slow.”

Then you circled the cuff again, gliding the cold band over his length now, not touching with your fingers—just the unrelenting chill of metal.

He gasped and leaned his head back against the tile with a soft thud, biting his lip to keep quiet.

You had him right where you wanted him—trembling, dripping, needy—and the cuffs hadn’t even closed yet.

You let the cuff glide along his length one more time, slow and deliberate, watching the way he twitched and fought not to thrust into it. The metal was warming now—no longer ice-cold, but not soft either. Just a new kind of edge pressing into his need.

Jungkook’s hands, trembling from restraint he hadn’t been ordered into yet, finally moved. He gripped your wrists—not hard, just enough to ground himself, like he couldn’t bear not to touch you even as he gave you full control.

His head tipped forward, water dripping from his chin onto your shoulder, and his breath came out rough and uneven. His cock was fully hard now, flushed, leaking at the tip, standing bold against his stomach.

You looked up at him, eyes soft and sharp all at once, and tilted your head.

“Baby,” you whispered, voice light with mock concern, “why so hard?”

His breath hitched, fingers flexing tighter around your wrists. You felt the way his grip betrayed him—desperate to hold on, to not fall into it too fast, but too wired to pretend it didn’t matter.

“You barely touched me,” he managed, voice hoarse.

“That’s the point,” you murmured.

You let your hands shift slightly in his grasp, just enough to tap the cuffs together—click—that sound sharp and promising.

“Turn around for me,” you said softly, brushing your lips against the side of his throat. “Hands behind your back.”

He hesitated—not out of resistance, but because you both knew what came next. And he liked this moment, the weight of anticipation. But eventually, obediently, he turned. Water continued to pour down his back as he placed his hands behind him, wrists ready.

You stepped close again, pressing your body against his damp back, and slipped one cuff around his wrist. Click.

He twitched when the cold closed around him.

Then the second. Click.

Both locked.

His breath stuttered. His cock throbbed against open air, untouched and helpless. You traced a finger down his spine, watching goosebumps bloom even under the heat of the water.

“See?” you whispered, mouth close to his ear. “You don’t need my hands to feel owned. You just need metal.”

You stepped back just enough to watch him fully—arms cuffed behind his back, muscles tense, chest rising and falling like he’d just finished another set at the gym instead of standing still. His cock stood flushed and heavy between his legs, bobbing slightly with every breath. The water made everything shine—his skin, the steel around his wrists, even the aching head of him dripping down his thigh.

And still… you hadn’t touched him.

Not really.

You let your fingers ghost over his hips but never close the distance. Just near enough to make his body twitch and lean. He tilted his head, trying to track you with his eyes, but you stayed just behind him, out of reach, hands maddeningly soft.

“Still hard,” you murmured like it was a mystery, like it wasn’t exactly what you wanted. “Even with no help?”

He let out a quiet groan, low and strained. “Please…”

You ran a single finger down his spine. His whole body arched.

“Please what, Jungkook?”

“I—I need—” He broke off, swallowing thickly. “Touch me.”

“Oh, kookie.” You let your nails drag gently across the back of his thighs. “I am touching you.”

He groaned again, head dropping forward. The handcuffs clinked as he flexed against them instinctively—his muscles pulling, resisting, craving even the illusion of freedom.

You knelt down slightly, close enough to let your breath fan against his inner thigh. The water beat down on both of you now, hot and heavy, making it harder for him to tell what was you and what wasn’t.

Then you let your tongue flick out—barely—not even on his cock, but just along the crease where his thigh met his pelvis.

He choked on a sound. “Fuck—please—”

You pulled back again.

“You’re not leaking for permission,” you whispered, rising to your feet. “You’re leaking because you don’t have it.”

A shiver rolled through him, even with the heat of the water. His knees nearly buckled.

“I could do this all night,” you murmured against his ear. “Watch you twitch. Watch you beg. Watch your body ask for me without ever letting you come.”

He was panting now, raw and wrecked, his cock flushed dark, tip gleaming under the water, untouched and aching.

And still, you didn’t give in.

Because the longer he waited, the more he’d break for you.

And you weren’t done watching him fall apart.

You watched his back rise and fall with every breath, shoulders flexed, water sliding in rivulets down his spine. He was trembling now—just faintly—but not from cold.

You reached past him and slowly turned the water off.

The silence hit like a shock.

No more white noise to hide behind. Just the dripping of water off his body, the soft clink of the cuffs when he moved, and the sound of his breathing—strained and needy.

He tilted his head slightly, trying to hear your next move, trying to guess.

You didn’t say a word.

You stepped out of the shower, still warm and soaked yourself, and walked—slow, deliberate—toward the nightstand. He couldn’t see you now, not with his back turned and wrists locked. That only made his mind race faster.

You opened the drawer and pulled out two things: the key to lock the cuffs fully, so he couldn’t slide them off even if he tried… and a bottle of liquid soap. Not just any kind. The kind you knew would feel cold the second it hit damp skin.

When you came back in, you could see him shifting, almost nervously, the absence of touch getting louder in the silence.

You moved behind him and slid the key into the cuffs—click. A small twist. Now locked.

He stiffened.

“No going anywhere now,” you murmured.

He let out a soft noise—not quite a moan, not quite a protest. Somewhere in between. His body was begging, but his mind was sinking.

You uncapped the bottle. The scent of mint and eucalyptus bloomed in the air.

Then—without warning—you drizzled a slow stream down the center of his back.

The cold hit instantly.

He jerked forward with a broken gasp. “Fuck—cold!”

You smiled.

It slid down between his shoulder blades, following the curve of his spine, catching in the dip of his lower back. Then you poured a second line—this one lower. Across the backs of his thighs. Goosebumps erupted.

“I thought you were overheating,” you said casually, like this was just aftercare. “This’ll help.”

“Baby, please,” he groaned, trembling now. His cock was still hard—redder than before, standing helpless between his thighs, bobbing with every shift.

You rubbed the soap in now—slow and smooth. Not hurried. Not for cleanliness. Just another excuse to touch him everywhere but where he needed it most. Your hands slid across his back, down his sides, over his ass. Gentle, methodical. You spread the cold across his skin, watched him twitch under every drag of your fingers.

And still, no relief.

“You’re soaked,” you murmured against his shoulder blade. “Tense. Leaking. And I haven’t even touched your cock.”

He whimpered. Actually whimpered.

Your nails grazed the insides of his thighs, featherlight, but never touched his length. He was trembling now, jaw clenched, body caught between pleasure and frustration.

And you weren’t done.

Not even close.

You watched his cock twitch, stiff and flushed, a single bead of precum already smeared from earlier teasing. The way it stood there—hard, dripping, untouched—was its own kind of surrender.

And you weren’t about to give him mercy.

You brought the soap bottle back into view and tilted it ever so slightly. He heard the shift before he felt it.

“Wait—” he breathed, already shaking his head, sensing what was coming.

Too late.

A thick stream of the cold liquid hit the base of his cock and slid slowly down the shaft.

“Ah—fuck—” He jolted, whole body lurching forward against the cuffs, hips jerking like instinct alone could escape the shock.

You didn’t touch him.

You didn’t need to.

The minty cold spread on its own, dripping down the underside of his length, pooling at the head before sliding off. It made his cock throb violently in the open air.

He looked down, eyes wide, staring at himself—at the cruel, beautiful picture he made. His cock was leaking, twitching with need, bobbing from every tremor in his thighs. The soap glistened on it, catching the light. Nothing was soft. Nothing was relieved.

“Cold,” he groaned, voice cracked. “It’s s-so—baby, come on—”

You crouched slowly behind him, lips barely inches from his cock, and blew.

Just once. Just enough.

He howled—a deep, guttural groan like he couldn’t hold it in anymore. His knees buckled slightly.

“Please,” he panted, head bowed, “I—I can’t—”

“Oh, you can,” you whispered, letting your fingers run up his inner thighs. “You will.”

You let your nails skim up the skin, right to where his thighs met his body, then circled under—fingers brushing his balls, so gently it only made things worse.

His cock bobbed violently now, reacting to every breath you took near it, as if just your presence was too much.

“Baby,” he whimpered, eyes glassy, mouth parted. “It hurts.”

“I know,” you said sweetly, placing a kiss on the inside of his thigh. “But you look so beautiful like this.”

His whole body trembled.

And still, you didn’t touch his cock.

Just soft hands, cold soap, and the weight of your breath against him.

He was falling apart.

Exactly how you wanted him.

You shifted around him again, letting your fingertips ghost upward—up his sides, along the ridges of his soaked abs, until you reached his chest.

His breath caught the moment your thumbs found his nipples.

Pierced.

Sensitive.

Your touch was featherlight at first, circling the metal, letting it catch just barely under your skin.

He exhaled like you’d hit a nerve. And maybe you had.

His eyes fluttered shut, lips parting, breath now louder than before—less steady.

You smiled.

His knees bounced slightly in place—restless, impatient, his hips giving faint, involuntary thrusts into air that gave him nothing. He was trying so hard to be good, to hold still, but his body was betraying him.

And you hadn’t even touched his cock.

“Still holding on, baby?” you whispered against his sternum as your thumbs rolled the piercings again, a little firmer now, letting the metal shift just beneath his skin.

He gasped.

“I love this,” you murmured, kissing just below one ring. “Watching your knees go weak just from a little tease…”

You dragged your nails around the edges, pinching lightly—enough to make him jerk in place, his body trembling with the effort to stay standing.

His breathing turned sharp, broken. Every inhale shuddered. Every exhale carried a hint of desperation.

You wanted that.

You wanted his breath to stutter just from light pressure, from not knowing what would come next. You wanted to drown him in too much and not enough all at once.

So you leaned in, still teasing his nipples between your fingers, and whispered close to his ear:

“You’re breathing harder. I want that. Want your lungs tight. Want your cock dripping from nothing but me playing with you like this.”

He whimpered.

His knees bounced again, more frantic now, thighs shaking from the buildup.

Your tongue flicked over one ring—soft and slow.

He nearly collapsed.

The cuffs clinked as he fought to stay upright, spine bowing as his cock jerked helplessly in front of him, leaking like a faucet, no relief in sight.

And you just… kept going.

Rubbing, flicking, kissing—light, teasing, unrelenting.

His breath was practically moaning now, his body a livewire, shaking, dripping, burning. He couldn’t escape it.

Couldn’t control it.

You had him, completely.

You let your mouth drift away from his chest, nipples slick and tingling under your touch, and stepped back just enough to make his body chase after the heat of yours—even in the small space, even with the cuffs. He swayed on his feet, breath still ragged.

And then—twist.

The water came back on.

Warm. Soft. A steady stream filling the silence like a whisper. His eyes opened slowly, and for a split second he looked hopeful. Like maybe this was mercy.

But you weren’t done with him.

You picked up the detachable shower head and brought it down low, turning the setting to a soft, wide spray. Not hard enough to stimulate. Just… touch.

You brought it to his chest first, rinsing the last traces of cold soap off his nipples. He hissed again—not in pain. In overwhelm. His body was already too sensitive. Every nerve was standing at attention. And now, warm water slid over all of them like fire in reverse.

You trailed the spray down slowly. Over his abs. Down his thighs. Carefully around his knees. His breathing hitched again when you brought it near his cock—but still didn’t touch.

And then you lifted your free hand to cup his balls, gently, deliberately, as the warm water poured over your fingers.

He moaned—raw and low. The contact, even so soft, felt like too much.

“Good boy,” you whispered, washing him like he was something delicate. “Look how good you’re being.”

He was trembling again, jaw tight, eyes half-lidded with desperation.

You let the water trail up now—over his inner thighs, his hip bones, his belly. Then finally, you let a slow, deliberate pass of the warm stream run down the underside of his cock.

He gasped, full-body flinch.

“No,” he breathed, eyes darting, knees knocking together as he tried to resist the instinct to thrust. “No, no—can’t…”

“You can,” you said calmly, almost sweet. “You are.”

You angled the spray just slightly—letting it kiss the underside of his shaft again, warm, teasing, flowing over skin so sensitive it made him tremble harder.

You cupped his hip, steadying him.

“Shh. Just let me clean you.”

That word—clean—was almost cruel now. As if this wasn’t another kind of punishment.

As if he wasn’t falling apart in the warmth of your touch.

The cuffs clinked again.

His thighs were soaked, twitching. His cock was angry now—red, pulsing, twitching with every beat of his heart.

And still, you held back.

Still, you just washed him.

Not out of mercy.

Out of mastery.

You moved in quiet control, letting the water trail where you guided it—over the backs of his thighs, the curve of his ass, the soles of his feet, each tender place that rarely got attention. You rinsed him like he was yours to care for, yours to torment, yours to claim.

When you raised the shower head to his neck, he exhaled sharply, head dipping forward, exposing the back of it to you. The muscles there flexed under the stream. Still tense. Still shaking with restraint.

And then you gently hooked the shower head back into place. VThe water flowed steady now, raining down over his body in long, slow waves.

“Face the stream,” you murmured.

He obeyed instantly, turning until the warm spray was hitting his chest, his stomach, his cock—still impossibly hard and twitching, standing untouched in the steam. He bowed his head slightly, water pouring over his hair, down his nose, across his lips.

You stepped up behind him, chest brushing his slick back, and wrapped one hand lightly around his waist.

Then leaned in. Pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. Then another. And another. His breath hitched when your tongue flicked out—licking a long, slow stripe up the middle of his spine.

“God,” he whispered, his voice thin, fragile.

You let your hands move again—palming his hips, then sliding up over his ribs, pulling him closer as you mouthed at his wet skin, your lips hot against the cool water.

He leaned into it.

Leaned back into you—his bound arms pressing against your stomach, spine curved slightly in submission. It made his cock bob forward from the movement, stretching out, twitching helplessly in the stream.

You watched it move—watched it respond to nothing but this. Just your presence. Just your mouth on his back. Just the feeling of being wanted and denied in the same breath.

And he groaned—low and guttural.

Because he could feel it.

Your lips.

Your breath.

The way your fingers dug in just enough to hold him still. He was soaked. Bound. Overstimulated. Beautiful. And he was aching for you.

Every twitch of his cock was a scream for contact. Every stretch of it, every bounce as it throbbed in the water, begged you to end it—or never end it.

Your hands slid down again—slick over wet skin, rubbing across the tight lines of his abs, down to the sharp cut of his hips. He twitched under your touch, like he couldn’t help it, and rolled his hips forward subtly—offering, asking.

You didn’t give him what he wanted. Instead, your palm cracked against his ass—sharp, the sound echoing in the tiled space.

He whined. A strangled, surprised sound—more breath than voice. And his cock, untouched and furious, twitched hard enough to leak.

You grinned.

“You like that,” you murmured against his ear. “You leak when I hit you, baby.”

Another soft stroke across his stomach. Another needy shift of his hips.

Smack.

This time he choked on it. His body jerked forward, water still pouring over him like nothing was happening—like he wasn’t slowly being undone.

A thin bead of precum rolled down the head of his cock, warm water cutting it like tears.

“You want attention down there?” you asked, lips brushing his wet hairline, voice soft but cutting.

He nodded—helpless, desperate.

Another spank, lower this time, closer to where thigh met cheek. His knees almost buckled, his cock bouncing forward helplessly, leaving another glistening drip.

“Then stop begging with your hips,” you said, tracing your fingers across his sides. “You beg with your voice. Or you don’t beg at all.”

He whimpered. Another leak. He was betraying himself with every reaction.

You reached around him again, this time letting your fingertips graze the underside of his cock—not to give him relief. Just to prove how hard he was. How soaked in his own need.

He cried out, full-body flinch.

And you spanked him again—one cheek, then the other, watching the red bloom under your hand, and the way his cock jerked with it, more precum dripping down.

“You leak for pain,” you whispered. “You leak for denial. That’s what gets you off.”

He was swaying now—shoulders drawn back, water pounding against his chest, arms cuffed behind him, cock heavy and dripping in front of him. And when your hand cracked against his ass again, he moaned. Head tilted back, mouth open, his whole body shaking with how good it felt to be used like this.

You grabbed his hips, pulled him tighter to you, and twisted one hand up to his chest—fingers closing around a pierced nipple, yanking.

He screamed. Choked and raw, eyes squeezed shut as his knees dipped for a second, like you’d just dragged the soul right out of him by the chest.

And you didn’t stop.

You pulled again. Hard. And then again.

“Fucking manwhore,” you hissed against the shell of his ear. “You love this, don’t you?”

He nodded, frantic and dazed. His cock jerked again, another clear spill trailing down, shameful and proud at once.

“You love leaking like a bitch just because I spanked you.”

Smack.

Another moan.

“Because I pull your nipples and say you’re nothing but a dripping little toy.”

Smack. Pull. His whole body jolted.

“You are, aren’t you?” you growled, twisting that sensitive nub, tugging until he whimpered. “A cock-drunk, pain-hungry, leaking little manwhore who can’t get off without being punished.”

He sobbed—desperate, eyes still shut, lips trembling.

“Look at me.”

He tried. Slow. Struggling. Water blurred his lashes, but he managed. Just barely.

And you grinned.

Because he looked wrecked. Red-cheeked, red-assed, wet-eyed. A beautiful, broken mess of pleasure and pain and unbearable need.

“You’re lucky I even touch you.”

You released his nipple, watched him shudder. Rubbed the other slowly, then pinched until he cried out again, head dropping forward.

He wasn’t even trying to talk anymore.

He didn’t have to.

His body was doing all the begging for him—every twitch, every leak, every gasp, every bounce of that cock as it throbbed in denial.

You circled him, slow, watching the water roll down the planes of his chest, the curve of his ass, the length of that pathetic, leaking cock. It twitched when you moved. Twitching just from your presence.

You stepped close again.

Smack.

Another sharp slap to his ass. Then another—opposite cheek. The sound of it echoed. The heat bloomed red under your palm, and his cock jerked forward again, precum stringing down in a long drip. Still leaking.

You let your fingers trail down, then slapped the inside of his thigh—hard.

He grunted. Low, thick, and strained. His legs spread instinctively—offering.

“See that?” you said, voice cold, hand dragging slow over the spot you struck. “You want to be hurt.”

Another slap, other thigh. “You need it, don’t you?”

He nodded once—sharp. Shoulders tight. Lips parted.

“Say it.”

He breathed in hard. His body braced itself. And when he spoke, his voice didn’t break. It came low. Controlled. Like the words were etched into his bones.

“I need it.”

Another smack to his ass.

“I need to be punished.”

Another, lower—just above his thigh.

“I need to earn it.”

Your hand slid down the crease between thigh and cheek. “Earn what?”

His jaw clenched, cock twitching violently in front of him.

“Your touch.”

You grinned. “That,” you breathed, fingers grazing over the head of his cock for half a second—just enough to feel how wet he was, how much he ached—“is how a good manwhore begs.”

He gasped through his teeth, legs shaking. The teasing touch was gone in a second.

You slapped his thigh again, firmer. He didn’t flinch this time. He took it. Owned it.

And then you circled to face him.

His eyes didn’t waver.

“Keep your eyes on me,” you said. “And prove it.”

He nodded again, chest rising and falling fast—but not chaotic. Not broken. Just desperate to show you he could take more.

You rubbed over the hot, stinging skin of his ass—gentle, almost sweet—and he jolted, hips twitching, breath catching.

“More,” he gasped. “Please—more.”

You smiled. “Sure.”

You stepped back, turned the water to hot—just short of scalding—and let it hit his chest, his stomach, warming his whole body. Then you tapped his thigh.

“Bend.”

He obeyed instantly. Back arched, head down, wrists still cuffed, presenting himself to you like it was the only thing that made sense. The water streamed over his front now, and his back—his red, bruised ass—was yours.

Smack.

Harder this time. No rhythm. No warning. Just pain—delivered with purpose.

“Thank you,” he gasped, voice strained but steady.

Smack. Again. And again. You didn’t stop. He ached. He leaked. His cock hung heavy, helpless, twitching in the heat, a trail of clear precum dripping steadily to the tile.

And then—without speaking—you stepped in front of him. The moment he saw your pussy, his whole body shuddered. His arms flexed behind him, and his cock jerked so violently it looked like he might cum untouched.

But he didn’t dare.

He looked up at you from under wet lashes, eyes wide, starving.

“Down,” you said.

He dropped. Straight to his knees.

You tilted your hips toward him. Let him see—smell—how much this had done to you too. And his lips parted with a reverent groan, nose brushing close, but he didn’t move until you gave him permission.

“Go ahead,” you murmured. “You get to lick.”

He surged forward like he’d been dying for air.

His tongue was eager, messy, wide flat licks like he was trying to drink you in. You grabbed his hair and held him there, feeling the way his shoulders shook under your grip, his breath hot and erratic. The sounds he made—groans against your cunt, low whimpers as he tried not to grind his leaking cock against the tile—were filthy, grateful.

Because kneeling here, with your pussy in his mouth and no freedom to move or touch himself, was the closest thing to heaven he was ever going to get.

And he knew it.

He was on his knees—wet, cuffed, trembling. The water ran hot behind him, turning the air heavy with steam, and he looked up at you like he was starving.

You stepped closer and lifted one leg, resting your thigh on his shoulder—not gently, but possessively. Like you were bracing yourself against him. Like he was furniture. A tool.

And he took it. His body shifted under your weight, grounding himself deeper into the tile, head tilting automatically to press his face into you. Tongue out. Lips open. Desperate.

He licked like he needed it. Like the only way to stay sane was to keep his mouth on your pussy. And you let him—slow, steady, circular—like feeding a starving man piece by piece. Letting the taste ruin him. Break him down. Build him back up again under your control.

His cock stood angry. Red at the tip, flushed deep with blood, twitching visibly every time he moaned into you. It was leaking in long, sticky strings now, the kind that meant he’d been edged too long, too well. You watched it without mercy.

And with your fingers, you combed through his hair—firm, focused strokes. Not soft. Guiding.

You knew what it did to him. Knew how touch-starved he was there, how your hands in his hair made his whole body relax even as his cock throbbed harder.

“Good boy,” you murmured. “You’re so fucking good with your mouth baby.”

He whimpered into you. His hips jerked—reflexive, raw—but you didn’t let him move. You pressed your thigh harder on his shoulder.

“Uh-uh. Don’t hump the air. That cock doesn’t get to do anything ‘til I say.”

He nodded, tongue still working, face still buried in your pussy like it was salvation.

And you just watched. One hand in his hair. One eye on his cock. Letting him ache. Letting him serve. Because he was beautiful like this—kneeling, restrained, red, dripping, and utterly hard.

You tilted your head back and let your hips roll slow against his mouth, chasing your own edge—using him for it. His tongue flicked and lapped, breath heaving through his nose, barely able to keep up with the way your body moved. You ground down harder. Let yourself ride that heat, let it rise until it almost broke—

And then you pulled away.

He whimpered—high, broken, his mouth still open, chasing after your taste. But you stepped off him slowly, deliberately, and looked down at his soaked, wrecked body.

“Come here,” you said, voice low but firm.

You helped him up—hands on his wrists, guiding him gently despite the cuffs. His legs were shaky. His cock slapped against his stomach as he stood, dripping with no relief in sight, so red it looked painful.

You backed him into the wall with a light push. Not rough. Just enough to make sure he knew who was placing him there.

Then you turned around and bent over—slow, deep—grinding your ass and dripping cunt directly against his cock. The heat of you made him jump. His whole body twitched. He tried not to thrust, not to lose control—but his hips moved anyway, humping the air with little, pathetic jolts that rubbed the head of his cock against your slickness, against your ass, over and over.

And you looked back at him, smirking.

“Look at you,” you murmured. “Didn’t even need to say anything. You’re already fucking the air like a little dog.”

He groaned—deep, guttural—and dropped his forehead against the wall. His hands clenched behind him. His cock pulsed against your heat, leaking messily, shamelessly.

You rolled your hips slower. More deliberate. Letting his tip kiss your pussy lips but never quite letting him in. Not yet.

“You want this?”

“Y-Yeah,” he gasped. “Please—fuck, please.”

You laughed under your breath and gave him one more slow grind, your slickness coating his tip like a reward.

“Then behave.”

And you stilled.

Letting him throb. Letting him ache. Making him earn it.

He starts muttering low and rough, dirty words slipping out between clenched teeth—each one dripping with frustration and need. His eyes darken, flickering with that raw hunger you love to watch. His hands twitch like he wants to grab your ass hard, to slam into you and lose control right there, but the cuffs and your hold stop him every time. You see it in the way his jaw tightens, the quick, sharp breaths he takes, the tight grip on the wall behind him.

You lean in closer, voice teasing, almost soft, but laced with command.

“Hey,” you murmur, voice low and slow. “Why shouldn’t I touch you?”

He grits his teeth, eyes blazing with anger and pure, frustrated need. His body trembles—half mad, half aching—unable to do what his mind screams for.

“’Cause I’ll lose it,” he growls, voice thick. “And then you’ll have to punish me.”

You smirk, loving the way he’s barely holding on.

“Well, maybe you deserve to lose it,” you say, fingers brushing lightly over his tense shoulder, barely grazing his skin. “Or maybe I’ll make you earn it in ways you’ve never imagined.”

His breath hitches. His eyes flicker to your hands, your lips—every inch of you that’s just out of reach.

He doesn’t say anything else. Just clenches his fists, body taut with frustration, and lets out a ragged, needy growl.

You step back just enough to watch him burn.

The perfect mix of angry and desperate. Exactly where you want him.

You wrap your hand around his still-aching cock, slow and deliberate. Your touch is firm but teasing, fingers sliding over the slick skin as you start to stroke—just enough to make him whimper.

He leans into it, eyes half-lidded, mouth parting in a soft, needy moan that spills out like a surrender.

The tension in his body tightens, hips shifting instinctively, desperate for more even though you haven’t given him permission. You keep your pace steady, savoring the way his breath hitches and his muscles tense under your hand—every sound and twitch a proof of how much he needs you.

You press your lips to the side of his neck—warm, lingering, just enough to ground him as he thrusts slowly into your fist. He’s trembling, breath ragged, head resting heavy on your shoulder. His body’s on edge, but it’s not just arousal—it’s everything he’s been holding in.

You stroke him steady, letting him fuck your hand at his own desperate pace, your free arm around his back to keep him from collapsing.

“Are you going to spill?” you whisper against his throat, voice soft but edged with knowing.

He shakes his head slowly, jaw clenched, eyes closed. “No,” he breathes, hoarse. “Enjoying this. I… needed this.”

The way he says it—it’s not about release. It’s not about orgasm. It’s about you holding him, guiding him through the storm in his chest. Letting him feel without shame. Letting him give up control, just for a moment, and still be held steady.

You kiss his neck again, slower this time.

“Good,” you murmur. “Then take what you need. I’ve got you.”

He keeps going, hips rolling with a raw, desperate rhythm—this tall, athletic 5’10” man fucking into your fist like it’s the only thing keeping him sane. His body dwarfs yours, all heavy muscle and power, but right now, he’s trembling in your hold like something barely stitched together.

His thighs flex with every thrust, abs tightening under your palm as you keep your arm braced around him, steadying his weight as he leans harder into you. His cock slides through your fist, slick and pulsing, every movement making his breath catch in your ear.

He’s panting now, skin flushed, chest heaving, sweat mixing with the fading shower steam. His whole body’s bowed toward you, this big, dominant man reduced to something aching and wordless, letting you guide his need.

Your fingers tighten slightly, just enough to make him groan—low, broken, guttural—and he ruts harder, helpless, forehead resting against your shoulder.

You whisper against his skin, lips brushing the shell of his ear:

“Look at you… fucking my fist like it’s the only thing left in your world.”

And it is. He’s not saying anything anymore—he doesn’t have to. His body says it all: he’s yours, right here, right now, needing this more than air.

“Can I cum?” he rasps, voice strained—barely more than a breath against your neck. His hips keep thrusting, slower now, trembling, like he’s trying not to lose it before you answer. The mix of soap and his own precum makes every stroke slick, obscene, and the sound of it echoes low in the shower’s steam-drenched silence.

You don’t answer right away. You tighten your grip just slightly and murmur, “Why?”

He groans—frustrated, needy—and tries to collect himself, but it’s clear he’s falling apart in your hands.

“Because I—” he swallows, eyes clenched shut, “I need to let it out. Not just the cum, all of it. The stress. The noise. The fucking weight.”

His voice cracks at the end, just barely.

“I’ve been holding back all week. Being good. Controlled. But I need this. I need you to let me break.”

You stare at him for a second, this powerful man trembling against you, begging not just to cum—but to feel. To release.

You lean in, brushing your lips along his jaw.

“Then show me,” you whisper. “Show me how badly you need it.”

he’s fucking into your hand like he’s losing his mind. His cock is flushed, slick with soap and pre, throbbing against your palm, every thrust ragged with restraint. He moans deep, guttural, hips snapping like he’s inside you, not your fist.

“God—fuck—feels like you,” he breathes, voice shaking, teeth clenched as he rocks into your grip. “So warm—tight—fuck, baby, please—feels just like your cunt.”

You feel him tremble, feel every ounce of effort he’s pouring into holding back, even as his body screams for release. His head tips back, jaw flexed, eyes shut tight, like if he looks at you he’ll lose the last thread of control.

You whisper nothing, just stroke him slowly, perfectly—enough to tease, enough to edge, never enough to let him fall.

“You said you wouldn’t cum,” you murmur, lips brushing his collarbone.

“I—I won’t,” he moans, hips stuttering, face twisted in desperate pleasure. “I swear—fuck—I won’t. Just let me pretend. Let me feel you. Just—don’t stop.”

He’s fucking your hand like it’s your pussy, bound and burning, shaking under your control, because the act of not cumming is the real surrender. The ache, the denial, the ache of being so close—it’s exactly what he needs.

And you let him have it. All of it.

You watch him—this broad, cuffed man trembling with tension, hips still grinding into your palm like it’s salvation—and you decide he’s earned it. Every second of obedience. Every groan he swallowed. Every drop he held back just because you told him to.

“Cum,” you whisper, firm and low. “You’ve earned it. Let it go, baby.”

There’s no hesitation. No second-guessing.

He breaks.

A guttural moan tears from his throat, raw and loud, and his body jerks as the first thick pulse spills out of him. You tighten your grip and help him through it, stroking him just right, coaxing it from deep inside him.

“Fucking—fuck,” he gasps, body shuddering, knees nearly giving out as his cock twitches and unloads into your hand—hot, heavy spurts painting your palm and dripping onto your thigh, onto the shower floor. He leans forward, forehead to your shoulder, jaw slack and moaning like he’s been wrecked from the inside out.

You stroke him through every wave, whispering nothing but praise into his ear while he curses under his breath, helpless, undone, and still throbbing in your fist.

You hold him until his body stills—drained, breathless, and finally, free.

You reach for the key on the sink with calm control, still watching him—shoulders heaving, flushed, cock twitching with the last aftershocks of his orgasm. The click of the cuffs unlocking feels final, like releasing a storm you commanded from start to finish.

He doesn’t even wait.

His hands drop instantly to his cock, jerking it with shaky urgency, still leaking, still desperate. “Fuck—still coming,” he groans, eyes low, lip caught between his teeth. He milks himself with his own fist now, chasing the last drops like he’s trying to squeeze out weeks of tension in one brutal, beautiful release.

Then he pulls you in.

His arm wraps around your waist and he kisses you—messy, greedy, deep. No hesitation. Just pure need. His tongue is wet with praise, his breath a growl against your lips.

“Need to do that more often,” he pants, kissing down your cheek, your jaw, your throat. “Fuck, baby—need another milking. I feel so full all the time. You make it better. You make it—” He groans, grinding against your hip as his cock twitches again, half-hard and still aching. “You get me.”

He looks at you, eyes heavy, lips kiss-bitten.

“You’ll drain me again, right?” His voice dips, almost reverent. “I’m your mess to clean up.”

He looks wrecked—eyes dark and wide, lips parted as he pants through the fading burn. You stroke his stomach slowly, then lower your voice, firm and calm against the haze in his brain.

“You want my mouth?” you ask.

He nods fast, almost frantic. “Please. I need it—need your mouth so bad, fuck—I’ll beg—”

“You already are,” you smirk, and drop to your knees.

He doesn’t get a chance to react.

You take him in, warm and wet, and his whole body shudders like you just plugged him back into a live current. Your mouth wraps around his sensitive, still-spilling cock, and you start to bob—slow, steady, torturous. He gasps, hips jerking up before you shove him back against the wall with a palm to his stomach.

“Fuck—oh, fuck,” he whines, both hands in your hair, but not guiding—just holding, desperate, reverent. “Too good—too good—your mouth’s fucking perfect—”

He can barely handle it, twitching in your mouth, already swelling up again. Every flick of your tongue under his tip pulls a strangled groan from his throat. He’s pulsing between your lips like his body needs this, like you’re giving him the only relief he understands.

And you don’t stop. Not yet. You want him to feel emptied.

You don’t stop. You deepen.

Your mouth glides down his cock, slow but sure, your throat taking him inch by inch until you feel him twitch at the back of it. His breath catches, a broken gasp spilling from his chest, and your fingers—warm, soft—rub soothingly over his thighs, grounding him while your mouth ruins him.

He looks down, and you’re already staring up.

Eyes locked.

Your lips wrapped around him, cheeks hollowing as you suck slow and deep, and he groans like it’s being torn out of him. His thighs tremble under your touch, his abs twitch, and the veins on his forearms flex where he grips the edge of the sink just to keep himself upright.

“Baby…” he whispers, eyes wide, voice wrecked. “Fuck. Look at you…”

His hips roll forward—cautious at first, testing how much you’ll let him move. You don’t stop him. You just keep rubbing slow circles into his skin, sucking gently, wet heat dragging along every nerve like silk and fire. He’s flushed, already thickening again in your mouth, and that desperate, sensitive ache has him panting.

“I’m gonna cum again,” he warns, already shaky. “You’re gonna make me shoot again, just like that—fuck, don’t stop—”

You keep going, hand steady, mouth moving in sync, driving him closer until his body tightens and he shudders hard—another wave of hot release spilling over your fingers. His breath hitches, knees trembling, and you don’t let up until his hips slow, muscles slacken.

Then you stand up slowly, wet and slick, watching him pant—eyes wide, still burning with need.

Leaning close, you trace a finger down his jaw and say, cool and teasing, “Lick it.”

He blinks, hesitation flickering. You raise a brow, voice low but firm: “How much?”

He hates his own cum, the taste, the mess—yet here he is, caught between defiance and desire.

You smirk, the edge sharp: “One light swipe and swallow. That’s your light punishment.”

His eyes darken with a mix of frustration and surrender. Slowly, almost reverently, he leans forward—tongue flicking out to obey.

You watch every flick, every swallow, feeling the power in this small, charged act of submission.

You lean down, tongue tracing the same path he just cleaned, slow and deliberate. Your lips curl into a satisfied smile as you savor the taste, then look up at him with heat in your eyes.

“All mine, baby,” you whisper, voice low and possessive.

He swallows hard, chest rising and falling, completely undone—and you know this moment, this claim, is exactly what he needed.

You rinse your hand under the warm water, then meet his gaze as he catches you.

“You didn’t cum,” he says, voice low but edged with something softer—almost vulnerable.

“That’s correct,” you reply coolly, watching his expression shift.

His shoulders slump for a moment, a flicker of disappointment flashing across his face. Then, with a pout that pulls at something deep inside you, he reaches out and pulls you closer.

“Please,” he murmurs, voice rough with need, “let me make you cum. It’s not fair that I’m the only one.”

The way he says it—needy, honest—hits you. You can see how much he wants it, how much he wants to give back.

And damn, you’re more than ready to let him try.

He pulls you flush against him, his breath hot and heavy as his hands grip your waist with possessive urgency.

“I’ll fuck you over the sink,” he growls low, voice rough with need. “I know you like being bent.”

There’s that raw hunger in his eyes—equal parts promise and command—and you feel it stir deep inside you. No hesitation. No holding back.

You smirk, voice dripping with challenge, “Do a good job or I won’t ever let you do it again.”

Turning off the water, you bend over the sink, wiping the mirror so you can watch him clearly. He jerks himself upright, eyes dark and hungry, a slow grin spreading as he growls, “I’ll show you what a manwhore I am then.”

He slides a hand down your back, teasing himself just at the edge of your entrance, slow and deliberate. Then, without warning, his palm smacks your ass hard, sharp and demanding.

You feel the sting spread, his roughness fueling the fire between you both. His breath hitches, and he murmurs low, “Can’t wait to fuck you like this.”

He lines himself up carefully, eyes flickering to you for reassurance, needing that silent praise to keep going.

You bite your lip and nod, whispering, “That’s it, good boy.”

He pushes his tip in slowly, shivering at the stretch, then begins to thrust himself in with steady, deliberate pressure. You ache around him, letting out a low moan that sends a shiver down his spine.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he murmurs, voice rough, eyes searching yours for approval as he moves deeper.

He’s trembling now, every slow thrust sending sparks of fire through him. His hands tighten on your hips as if holding onto you is the only thing keeping him grounded.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he groans, voice rough and needy, eyes dark and desperate for your approval.

You lean into the mirror, breath hot against your skin, and whisper, “You’re doing so well, baby. Keep going.”

His hips jerk with renewed urgency, still gentle but full of hunger, every movement pushing him closer to the edge. The tension in his body is raw—aching, needy—and you can see how much he’s holding back, desperate not to lose control.

You turn your head just enough to catch his gaze in the mirror, locking eyes with him, silently telling him he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.

You let out soft, breathy moans—slow, deliberate rewards that make his hips stutter. Each sound pushes him harder, faster, hungry for more, desperate to chase the next one.

His grip tightens, and his thrusts deepen, fueled by the only feedback he craves now: your moans. He smacks your ass again, the crack echoing through the steamy room, and your body jumps at the sting. He watches your reaction, smirking, hips still moving with that steady rhythm.

“You get tighter every time I do that,” he mutters, voice full of mischief and heat.

He slows down just as you’re getting close, pulling out slightly and holding there—edging you with a cruel precision. Not out of dominance, but pure teasing submission, wanting to watch you unravel for him.

“I can feel it,” he pants. “How close you are… but not yet, right?” He kisses your shoulder, breath hot. “You want it too bad.”

His smirk fades into focus when you start shaking around him, your body tightening, breath hitching. He feels it—every clench, every pull—and his hands grip your waist hard enough to leave marks.

“Now?” he asks, voice hoarse, already knowing the answer.

“Pound,” you gasp.

He doesn’t hesitate.

His hips slam forward, rhythm turning brutal, relentless. His grip anchors you as he chases your orgasm, fucking you through it, eyes locked on your reflection in the mirror. Watching you fall apart because of him—because he held out, because he teased you just right.

“Love it when you cum,” he groans, pounding harder, more desperately. “Keep going. Let me feel all of it.”

You cry out his name—sharp, needy, raw—and the second it hits his ears, he groans like it tears something loose inside him.

“Fuck,” he hisses, burying himself deeper as your walls pulse around him. He doesn’t slow. If anything, he sharpens—his thrusts tight, exact, milking every last contraction out of you like he’s desperate to feel it all.

“You’re still cumming for me,” he pants, sweat dripping down his temple, “Don’t stop. Let me have it—let me feel every drop, baby.”

He watches your body react, feels it spasm, and it drives him harder, chasing every last wave of your high like it’s his only purpose.

He doesn’t let up—his cock buried deep, pace steady, purposeful. He’s panting now, mouth parted as he stares at the way your back arches, the way your cunt tightens with every aftershock. His fingers dig into your hips, dragging you back to meet each thrust like he’s trying to make you feel him even deeper.

“Still so tight,” he groans, almost in disbelief, his voice wrecked. “You’re squeezing me—fuck—just like that.”

You whimper, overstimulated, and he leans forward, chest pressing to your back as he slows just slightly—still inside, still grinding deep.

“You gonna cum again?” he murmurs into your ear, voice low and reverent now, full of heat and awe. “Wanna make you shake on me one more time… let me? Let me fuck it out of you, baby.”

You nod, barely—too far gone to speak—and he catches that tiny movement like it’s gospel.

“Good,” he whispers, kissing the side of your neck. “So good for me.”

Then he pulls back and snaps his hips forward again, dragging his cock against the most sensitive parts of you. He’s focused now, relentless in rhythm but controlled—like he knows exactly what your body needs to tip again.

Your knees wobble. He feels it.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, proud now, grinding in deep with each thrust. “I feel that. You’re close—so fucking close.”

His hand slides down, fingers pressing right over your clit—not rubbing, just applying pressure—enough to push you over if you let go. You cry out again, your body taut like a bowstring, trembling.

“You gonna cum for me?” he rasps. “Cum on my cock again, baby—show me what it feels like when you let go.”

Your body clenches, and that’s all it takes—his breath stutters.

“Oh my god,” he gasps, voice cracked open and needy. “You’re—fuck—you’re doing it again.”

He slows down instinctively, trying to feel all of it. Your walls pulse around him and his knees nearly buckle. “So fucking tight,” he whines, forehead pressed between your shoulder blades now. “You’re milking me—I can’t—I don’t wanna cum yet, please.”

You can hear it—the desperation in his voice, thick and trembling. Not because he’s in control, but because he isn’t. He’s trying so hard to hold on for you, trembling behind you, fingers gripping your waist like a lifeline.

“Good boy,” you murmur breathlessly, and that wrecks him.

His moan breaks out of him raw, shameless. He starts rolling his hips slower, deeper—like he wants to feel every spasm, every squeeze. “Say it again,” he pleads against your skin, lips brushing your back. “Call me that again—need to hear it when you cum on me like that.”

You let him stay inside, still throbbing, still overwhelmed—and he loves it. Not just the sex—the fact that it’s you, letting him be this undone, giving him space to ache and beg and serve. He’s yours, and he wants it to be known.

You moan it again, breath trembling—“Good boy.”

The way he arches into you, every muscle taut and begging, makes your own release surge like a wave crashing.

He gasps, voice raw and desperate, “I’m gonna cum if you keep saying that…”

You don’t stop.

“Good boy… such a good boy…”

His hips jerk harder, unable to hold back any longer.

With a strangled cry, he spills inside you, shaking as he surrenders to the moment you created—vulnerable, needy, completely undone beneath your touch and voice.

He collapses against you, breath hot on your skin, eyes shining with the mix of relief and craving that only being your submissive can bring.

#now this is what i call pure filth #im never again writing anything #this was perfection #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook smut #jungkook #jeon jungkook

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astrasng · 2 months ago

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marlboro reds💋ྀིྀི

sucking off cheol is everything and beyond the definition of attractive. he’s thick and hung, hitting all the right spots inside you whether it’s rough or soft, he knows your body just too well. you have nothing against him pounding into you like he’s starving (he probably is) and panting into your ear from behind as he grabs the back of your neck harshly to feel his length buried inside you.

but when it comes to sucking him off? it’s like you’re even beyond on cloud nine.

all you see when you blink up at him is his buff chest falling up and down, his head thrown slightly back on the couch as he bites his bottom lip down to contain his pathetic moans. he’s shaking, his mind totally shut off as you swirl your tongue around him, rewarding you with rough groans when he snakes one of his hand into your hair, gathering it into a ponytail. it makes you rub your thighs together, saliva dripping from the corner of your mouth around his length. it rolls all the way down on your throat and cheol takes of notice of this, immediately taking a finger and smudging the saliva where he feels himself in your throat. it makes both of you moan, how strangely you can feel his finger like it’s nothing separating the two.

fuck sweetheart, you’re taking me so well

he groans out when you swallow around his thick size, wanting to cough so bad at the burning sensation but he steadily pushes your head further down. the moment you gag around him, he lets out a satisfied sigh like he’s been waiting for this, an almost sick-like smirk painting his face as he looks down at you amusingly.

too much? but i know you can do much better than that.

at that, cheol suddenly pulls you off of him and hisses at the cold air, locking eyes with you as you look up at him with tears in your eyes. he nearly comes from the sight when you lick your lips and swallow all the saliva and precum gathered on your lips, seeing the way your throat moves pushes him to the edge.

cheol pinches your chin between his fingers, directing his tip on your plush, wet lips and smears it against them. you can hear the satisfactory sigh leaving him when you part your lips slightly, the tip movements away from sliding right back in. your tongue loll back out against his cock and just when you are ready to take him again he groans in frustration and janks you up into his lap.

you can’t contain yourself huh? he hisses harshly as he moves your body to be right on his erect cock, feeling it poking against your panties from under.

a small moan leaves you, grinding down on to his member but he stops you by your waist. you want to whine and scream at him out of frustration but his instense gaze stops you, looking at him all doe-eyed.

you have somethin' to say princess? he growls, his hand sliding further under your skirt to pull you onto him, his hips teasingly moving against you so the tip of his cock is rubbing against your entrance. a soft sigh leaves your lips, wanting to grind down harder on him, to feel his girth stretching you out like you deserve. but cheol has other plans.

with the tip of his finger, he pulls your panties enough to the side so his tip slides against your arousal coated lips, snapping the elastic right back on his cock making both of you hiss. you're gonna sit here prettily just as i say, he murmurs and kisses the side of your neck -

and you're going to feel me rutting against you until you come undone and all i can hear are your cries, how about that baby?

a/n: HE LOOKS LIKE HE WORKS W HIS HANDS AND SMELLS LIKE MARLBORO REDSSS scups is so crush by ethel cain for me that it's insane so LISTEN TO IT WHILE READING X

important!: this is pure fiction, the act in this story is by my imagination and not based off true events. please do not copy the work.

@ astrasng 2025

⋮ do not copy, translate, steal, or modify without permission! ⋮

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astrasng · 2 months ago

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DO I WANNA KNOW? - LEE JUYEON.

pairing: lee juyeon x fem! reader

genre: erasmus student! lee juyeon. situationship au. angst? fluff? very bittersweet ngl. inner monologue heavy!

wc: 2k

warnings: mention of alcohol consumption

listen to: do I wanna know? - hozier cover / n e m u s i m e s a b a t - porsche boy, mess / don't smile - sabrina carpenter / casual - doja cat

a/n: I'm not saying this is the exact story of my nov-feb situationship, but I'm also begging ya'll to treat this little thing very very gently (iykwim :,,). ALSO this is completely unrelated to my prev erasmus student juyeon fic, I just accidentally manifested one into my life. thank u as always to my best friend @csenke for beta reading and also for the 4 months of listening to me cry about a mid ass man.

in this moment, there's nothing else, just you two and an empty promise.

Outside, it’s cold autumn. Leaves are brown, it gets dark after 4 in the afternoon and the wind is stingy and angry with the essence only the late November days can bring. Sky breaks out with quiet rain, droplets of cold water kissing not only the lamppost-illuminated pavement, but also the crown of your head and the tips of your fingertips. You shudder with the chilly kiss of the air when you step outside of the bar, despite the alcohol levels rising in your bloodstream and fall tightly into step with the couple in front of you.

Juyeon takes your side. He stops you in your tracks on the way back to your dormitory, taking the hood of your jacket and pulling it over your damp hair. You let him, completely forgetting about the umbrella you snuck into your purse before you left. You let the boy pull you closer and take your bag off you– since it’s constantly falling off your shoulder and you make notice of it with an annoyed huff– before he decides to carry it for you and takes ahold of your hand, sneaking your intertwined fingers into his pocket.

The night is a little blurry from then onwards. The conversations you have with him on the way back are hushed, quiet. You never thought you’d end up by the side of a calm, reserved presence– since you were an introvert yourself, believing you needed someone to bring you out of your comfort zone, someone to make you open up and enjoy life without unnecessary boundaries– but you don’t mind it. Still, you’re a listener. He doesn’t ask much. You think it’s not that he isn’t interested. You believe he just simply doesn’t know what to say.

Somewhere along the way, you reflect on the evening. On the amount of alcohol in your system and on the girl you just met a few hours before, introduced to you by Juyeon’s roommate. The whole meeting felt a bit like a double date, and even though you’d hate to think of it as one– since your relationship with Juyeon is far too casual, unlabeled and unspecific for any of your meetings to be called that name– there’s buzzing in your stomach, a flood of happy gold smearing on your insides when you realize how easy, simple and sweet the whole evening played out.

It felt a bit too real. A bit too intimate. Normal.

You know that thinking of it as such was a deep mistake, but it was one you didn’t know how to stop yourself from making.

And maybe it was okay to indulge in the feelings and thoughts– although slightly delusional, which you admit to even in your drunken state, just for the weeks he’s here. You tell yourself it’s fine, because he is leaving in just about 2 months, and after that, you’ll never see him again.

You’ll never discuss your feelings with him in your second language under the intimacy of his dark dorm room ever again. You’ll never smoke together on the balcony, kissing in the moonlight, warming each other up by the closeness of each other. You’ll never share a drink, hold him close, let him touch you where no one has before. You’ll never hear his favorite playlist and listen to him talk about the culture back home, or encourage him when he’s stressed about exams ever again.

You have limited time together. Somehow, you think it’s both a blessing and a curse.

After a remark that makes him giggle– to which your heart jumps, still unknowing of your feelings for him– he sighs, his voice taking a whole another tint.

“Let’s make a promise that if neither of us have someone by the time we’re 30, we’ll get married,” he speaks, making your heart drop to your stomach.

The feeling his words encourage are indescribable. It’s like getting thrown off a 10-story building. It’s like when you’re bad at swimming and getting thrown into a pool of cold water, getting too tired in the middle of the lap and thinking you’re drowning before you realize you’re tall enough to reach the bottom. It’s like wishing on a falling star, not really knowing if you believe the silly superstition. It’s like the moment after waking up from a very good dream– when you realize none of it was real, but still, it leaves a fuzzy, warm aftertaste in you for the next few minutes before you forget what the dream was even about.

You don’t know how to name it. Not just yet.

“And you say you have no feelings for me,” you chuckle, teasing the man.

“I never said I didn’t,” he hums, almost making you stop in your tracks. Your heart jumps in your ribcage, a foreign, dangerous taste of adrenaline making itself present in your body.

“So you’re saying you do?”

The male sighs. “I mean…”

It’s what he always does. He throws you a bait, and then catches you on it like you’re some sort of a clueless goldfish. You blame your inexperience with romance for the lack of critical thinking– or at least now you do. He never really tells you how he really feels, what he really thinks. You always have to drag it out of him, beg him on your knees to tell you what goes on in his brain.

“You mean what?” you drag, impatiently.

“I mean, I knew I was going to meet someone while I’m here, but after the first time we hung out… I knew that it was going to end up this way,” he says, all ominous.

You hum.

“And I think you felt the same way,” he adds.

You hum again– pretending you understand. Believing you do. Because what else could his words mean? What else– if not feelings, real feelings, deeper than whatever you two put on in front of his friends and acquaintances? Hell, you know you care for him deeper than you let on. You didn’t think you realized before, but the disgusting romantic liquid pumping in your veins right now only approves of the suspicion.

You fell for Lee Juyeon.

Somewhere between the drunken nights full of laughter, Netflix shows long forgotten in the background as his lips explore you and his arms hold you tight, you fell for a man you hardly even know.

You fell for a man you met at a bad, boring Halloween party and cringed over his texts when he followed you on Instagram the morning after. You fell for the man that shared cigarettes with you, obnoxiously sang along to the songs on the radio, told you constantly how good you smelled and how much he loved your body (making you both confident, but also more insecure to be loved in any way beyond your curves and crevices as time moved forward). You fell for the man that made you play videogames with him and let you rant about your dad. You fell for the man that complimented your brain whenever he heard about your studies. For the man that joked around with his friends. For the man that sent you Instagram reels in the dead of the night, the man whose terrible sleeping schedule you learnt by memory the same way you could make the journey to his dormitory, up the elevator and straight into his bedsheets with your eyes closed.

But most importantly, you fell for the man that is here for one semester only– a man you’ll one day walk to his flight back home.

Still, you giggle as you two reach the gate of your dorm, waiting for the other couple to catch up to you as they laugh at each other’s jokes somewhere in the distance.

“Your 30 or my 30? Because that’s a big difference, y’know,” you tease him, never letting the 4 years laying in between you two die.

He shakes his head, laughing. “You choose,” he mumbles before he leans in and captures your lips in a tender kiss.

In this moment, there’s nothing else in this world, just you two. You two and the empty promise, the rain buzzing around you, the taste of nicotine and redbull on his lips. Just his hands on your waist, your soaring heart and the weight of your curfew (that’s in 5 minutes) breathing down your neck.

There’s no flight back home in February. There’s no silence on his end of the line during most of the day, no 24-hour wait for a reply to your messages. There’s no teasing looks from his dormmates whenever you walk with him to the communal kitchen, making you wonder just how much your name is thrown around the building. There’s no empty feeling in your stomach every time you take the train home– both from being away from the town that connects you two, and also from the lack of knowledge when you’ll see him again, because Juyeon was never the one to set exact times in stone. He never took the effort to plan your dates or let you know in advance. Meeting him was always rushed, last-minute and begged out from you.

There’s no trip with him in January, because it hasn’t happened yet. There’s no sinking feeling in your stomach as you lay awake next to him in one bed in the dead of the night, listening to his snores, wondering what you’ve done wrong and why you’re not enough for him. There’s no sentences uttered out from his lips you overthink and replay in your brain over and over again, wondering what they meant– like that time he got asked if you were his girlfriend, and he had it in him to reply “Kinda”. There’s no polaroids you keep on your wall until March when you decide it’s time to move on. There’s no talk on the balcony that you’ll always miss– because it had the best view of the town you grew to feel at home in– the talk where you confronted him with what he said tonight, asking him if he really had feelings for you and wondering what he truly meant if they weren’t love. There’s no belief that a body to hold is all you’ll ever be to someone, tainted with the sweet words he said to keep you at his reach. There’s no crying during Christmas break because you think he grew tired of you, because he started to put in less and less effort, because you suddenly started to see the relationship for what it was and not for what you wanted it to be. There’s no text on New Years, because it never happened, and also no text on your birthday, because he never cared enough to remember the date.

There’s no broken promises to keep in touch after he lands back home. You don’t know that he’ll change his number without you knowing yet, you’re not aware that all the memories you had with him meant more to you than to him– just a distraction, an experience abroad he took them for. And you know it’s not his fault– because he never lied to you, never really did anything to betray your trust– you just let yourself fall for the one person you shouldn’t have, for the one person you never should’ve gotten caught up with in the first place.

There’s no tears and broken hearts and memorabilia in your dorm room made of all the things he left you because they didn’t fit into his suitcase. There’s no feeling of him getting everything he wanted and leaving you here stuck on him. There’s no message from his roommate telling you he wasn’t good enough for you after they left.

In this moment, there’s just you two and this moment. The realization. The sudden knowledge that this is it, this is how falling in love feels like.

For now, you don’t think you want to know if the feeling flows both ways.

Maybe it would be for the better if you never even found out in the first place.

#the boyz #juyeon #lee juyeon #tbz #the boyz x reader #the boyz angst #the boyz fluff #juyeon x reader #juyeon fluff #juyeon angst

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