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binniesbobastay · 7 days ago

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pleasure bound

pairings harry castillo x younger!reader

summary you and harry keep things hush-hush, just business on the surface but in the elevator, all bets are off. later that night, the secret feels even sweeter, especially knowing your father would actually be okay with it.

“look at you, my spoiled little heiress… sittin’ on me like you own me.”

content nsfw 18+, explicit sexual content, secret relationship, age gap, rich heiress reader, billionaire, consensual intimacy, oral (f receiving), multiple positions, reader is on birth control, unprotected sex, teasing foreplay, reader is confident and assertive in private. proceed with care.

masterlist

the elevator doors close with a soft click suspended above the city.

you stand beside him. close, but not touching. not yet.

to the cameras, to the world, you are nothing more than business allies. but here, in this pocket of silence, every heartbeat says otherwise.

his pinky brushes yours.

you don’t look at him. you don’t need to.

“i spent that whole board meeting pretending not to look at you and all i wanted was to reach over and touch your hand.” harry whispered, voice low and strained with restraint.

your lips curve, slow and sweet.

“one more minute and i would’ve kissed you in front of all of them,” you murmured, barely turning your head.

that draws a quiet laugh from him. soft and disbelieving.

“you’re dangerous,” he said, looking at you now.

“so are you,” you replied with a little tilt of your chin. “but at least i admit it.”

he watched you for a moment, like he was trying to memorize you. eyes tracing your cheek, the curve of your mouth, the slope of your shoulders.

harry reached for you slowly, one hand rising to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers grazing your jaw.

then, gently, like he couldn’t help himself anymore, he leaned in.

your noses brushed. you closed your eyes.

and when his lips finally touched yours, it wasn’t rushed or frantic. it was reverent. warm. the kind of kiss that lingered long after it ended.

his hand cupped your cheek as your fingers curled into the front of his suit, pulling him just a little closer, just a little longer.

when you finally parted, breathless and smiling, you whispered into the space between your mouths.

“tonight. come by. back entrance. no security.”

“and what would the heiress of the sorelli family say if i just showed up unannounced?”

“she’d say she missed you,” you murmured, brushing your nose against his.

he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes.

“and what would her father say?”

you tilted your head with a small, knowing smile.

soft and spoiled all at once.

“he wouldn’t know. he still thinks i’m too busy running empires to fall in love.”

the elevator chimed.

as the doors slid open, harry’s hand found the small of your back. he guided you out like nothing had happened.

like he hadn’t just kissed the one woman he wasn’t supposed to fall for.

your pulse was still racing as you walked through the lobby and his fingertips lingered against your spine.

the house was quiet. jazz floated lazily from the record player.

you wore nothing but silk and bare skin, the cool floor beneath your feet grounding you as you padded down the hallway.

you heard the door open and close with care. no knocks. no voices.

his footsteps.

you stepped into the hall, standing where the shadows met the light.

“took you long enough,” you said with a small smile.

harry looked up, still wearing his coat, hair tousled from the wind, eyes warm and tired and completely focused on you.

“i tried not to speed,” he said quietly.

you walked toward him, slow and barefoot, letting your eyes drink him in.

he reached for you without thinking, his hand finding your wrist, thumb brushing the inside of it like he needed that touch to breathe.

“you’re late,” you teased softly.

“i didn’t want anyone to follow me,” he murmured, gaze sweeping over your figure with something that looked like longing and something that felt like relief.

you stepped into his space and curled your arms around his neck. he pulled you close without hesitation, one hand sliding along the curve of your back.

“good,” you whispered against the side of his throat. “because i don’t want to share you tonight.”

he closed his eyes as your breath warmed his skin.

“you never do,” he said, and you could feel the smile in his voice.

when harry kissed you again. slow, lingering, his hands gentle on your waist, it felt inevitable.

the way his lips explored yours with aching care.

the way his body fit perfectly against yours when you leaned into him, silk against wool.

now, you’re in your bedroom.

he’s standing between your thighs as you sit on the edge of the bed, wrapped in a fresh silk slip.

one he hasn’t seen yet. midnight blue.

he looks at you like he can’t believe you’re real.

his blazer drops to the floor with a quiet thud.

you reach up, undoing each button of his dress shirt with slow, steady fingers, your palms skimming over his chest, tracing muscle and hair.

he exhales shakily, leaning into your touch like he’s been starving for it.

then his hands slide to your thighs, the silk beneath his fingertips.

he lifts the slip just slightly.

you see the shift in his expression: confusion, surprise, then a wicked sort of delight.

he looks up at you slowly, voice low and thick.

“you’re not wearing any panties.”

you smirk, all sweet mischief.

“i got comfortable.”

he huffs out a soft, dark laugh, shaking his head as his hands skim higher, cupping the backs of your thighs.

“you’re a naughty girl,” he murmurs, his voice turning rough with arousal. “sitting here like this. waiting for me. silk and nothing else.”

“i knew you’d appreciate it.”

“oh, i do,” he growls softly, dropping to his knees between your legs. “now lie back, sweetheart.”

you obey, easing onto the pillows as your slip pools around your hips, exposing soft, bare skin. your legs part for him without hesitation.

he kisses your knee. then your thigh. his hands stroke the length of you with reverence and hunger.

and then his mouth is on you.

the first flick of his tongue is light, teasing and barely there.

he watches you as he licks, eyes dark and focused, like your pleasure is the only thing that matters.

you gasp softly, back arching when his tongue grows bolder.

stroking you in slow circles, licking deep and firm. his hands spread your thighs wider as he settles in.

“you taste like heaven, baby,” he whispers between strokes.

you moan, one hand tangled in his hair, the other clutching the sheets.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, lips brushing your slick skin. “just relax. let me make you feel good.”

he flattens his tongue and drags it from your entrance to your clit in one long, devastating pass, then circles your clit again and again.

his pace is slow, relentless. he draws out every whimper, every trembling breath.

and he doesn’t stop when your legs start to tremble. he doesn’t stop when your hips lift off the bed, chasing his mouth.

in fact he grins against you, fingers digging into your thighs to hold you still.

“stay right there for me, sweetheart.”

your body builds with pressure, pleasure curling tighter, hotter. his tongue never letting up over and over and over until you’re writhing, whimpering his name.

“harry—please—”

he groans, licking faster, more focused now. his tongue flicks, presses, circles your clit with maddening precision, keeping you right on the edge.

“let me feel it.”

your body goes taut. it’s overwhelming.

your thighs clamp around his head, your voice breaks on his name, and he holds you through every wave.

but he doesn’t stop.

even after your orgasm crashes over you, his tongue keeps moving, slow and soft, then quick and pointed. overstimulation licks at your nerves, making you twitch beneath him.

“too much—harry—”

he lifts his head just enough to meet your eyes.

“shh. one more, baby. just one more. i’ve got you.”

his fingers slide inside you. two.

his thumb replacing his tongue to rub your clit in tight, perfect circles.

you sob a breath, overwhelmed and shaking.

“you’re soaked,” he murmurs, pressing deep. “so fucking tight. let me see you fall apart again.”

his name spills from your lips like a prayer as your body coils again trembling around his fingers.

you come harder this time, vision going white around the edges.

he kisses your thigh, then your stomach, then pulls you up gently into his arms.

you’re panting, limp and trembling against his chest.

“you okay?” he whispers into your hair, brushing it back.

you nod, clinging to him.

“too good,” you manage.

he kisses your temple then your lips.

“not done yet, i still need to be inside you.” he murmurs.

his lips press to your jaw, then lower along your throat, over your chest.

you’re still trembling, but you don’t want to stop. you want more. all of him.

he knows. he always knows.

“you want to ride me?” harry whispers, his large hands sliding down your sides before gripping your hips firmly. “take what you need?”

you nod, breath caught in your throat. you push lightly on his chest, urging him to lean back, propped up against the headboard.

slowly, you straddle him, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his thighs.

his cock, flushed and slick with your arousal, stands hard between you, glistening with precum.

it’s already leaking for you.

you reach down, your hand wrapping around him, sliding along his slick length to line him up.

his dark eyes lock on yours, full of heat.

“look at you, my spoiled little heiress… sittin’ on me like you own me.”

“i do,” you whisper, lips brushing over his.

you sink down slowly, every inch filling you, your silk slip sliding and clinging to your curves.

harry’s hands find your hips first then they trail up your sides until his fingers curl under your slip.

cupping your breasts with hunger thumbs tracing circles around your swollen nipples until they pebble, hardening beneath his touch.

your breasts bounce, pressing into his chest and palms with each slow, deep roll of your hips.

a strangled groan escapes him.

“you’re gonna fucking kill me,” he groans, eyes darkening as he drinks in the sight of you riding him, your tits trembling in his grasp.

you lean down to kiss him. messy and desperate. his mouth claims yours, teeth grazing your lower lip.

your thighs tremble, your body slick with need and silk.

“turn around for me,” he pants, voice low and commanding. “on your hands and knees. let me take care of you.”

you whimper but obey, sliding off and flipping over onto the pillows, chest pressed down, ass raised in the air.

his eyes darken as he takes in the slick heat between your thighs.

“look at you,” he growls. “so fucking wet. so fucking ready.”

his cock lines up with your entrance, and then he presses in slow.

you cry out, burying your face in the sheets, your body arching involuntarily.

harry’s hands grip your hips hard, but one slides up your side, slipping beneath the silk slip to cup and knead your breast.

with every deep, powerful thrust, your breast bounces, the silk sliding and catching, heightening every sensation.

skin slaps, slick moans, and harsh breaths fill the room.

“that’s it,” he hisses. “take it. take all of it.”

your nails rake the sheets as you moan, your body trembling under his relentless pace.

“harry—fuck—”

he growls your name, pulling your hair lightly, arching your back. his hand moves between your bodies, rubbing tight circles on your clit as he pounds into you harder, fingers curling into your hip.

one hand slides back to your breast with a desperate worship that sends hot jolts through your core.

“you gonna come like this? stuffed full of me?” he pants.

you nod, breath ragged.

“i’m so close—”

“come for me,” he demands, voice rough. “now.”

your orgasm crashes through you like thunder, whole body trembling, muscles clenching hard around him as you scream his name.

harry pulls out, flipping you over again, lips pressing feverishly to yours.

now he’s on top. his mouth claims yours. kissing you deep and hungry, he presses back into you, slow and full. his other hand cups your face, holding you close, eyes dark with need.

“you’re mine,” he whispers against your lips. “every inch.”

“i’m yours,” you gasp, wrapping your legs around his waist, nails sinking into his back.

his thrusts grow more urgent, deeper, chasing release.

you’re right there with him, heat and pleasure crashing through your veins.

“come with me,” he begs, forehead pressed to yours. “one more, baby.”

your bodies lock together as he spills inside you, hips jerking, whole body shaking with release.

he stays buried deep, panting against your neck.

then soft kisses trail from your jaw to your shoulder to your lips.

he holds you close, skin to skin. “i’ll never let you go.”

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binniesbobastay · 8 days ago

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𝑆𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑦 𝐾𝑖𝑑𝑠 𝑆𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑁𝑜𝑛-𝑆𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑇𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑂𝑛𝑠 𐙚

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: smut MDNI

𝑆𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠: where we talk about the sexual and non-sexual things that turn the stray kids members on (fem!reader)

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: praise, teasing, begging, oral, soft domination, brat taming, edging, overstimulation, corruption, innocence kink, thigh/voice/name fixations, control, messy kisses, pet names, and light degradation.

𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑟𝑦!

Bang Chan's Sexual Turn-Ons:

• Black lace lingerie — Something about delicate, see-through black lace clinging to your curves makes his brain short-circuit. He loves how sinful you look while trying to act innocent. Bonus points if you wear thigh-highs with garters. He’ll grip your waist and whisper, "You're really doing this to me right now?"

• Being called Daddy in a soft voice — He doesn’t always ask for it, but when you drop it in your breathy moans, he loses it. Especially when you’re being a good girl and looking up at him with those eyes. Yes, those eyes — you know the ones.

• When you’re already soaking before he even touches you — There’s a moment of stunned silence when he feels it. Then comes the low chuckle and the, "You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you, baby?"

• You riding him in a skirt with nothing underneath — He gets feral when you take control, especially if you lean in and whisper exactly how good he feels. Bonus: when you bounce and the little skirt keeps flipping up? Game over.

• Waking him up with head — It’s not even fair. He’s half-asleep, barely aware, and then your mouth is on him? Yeah, he’s moaning your name in under a minute. Will absolutely return the favor tenfold.

Bangchan's Non-Sexual Turn-Ons:

• You in his oversized hoodie, hair messy, no pants — It’s not sexual... until it is. Something about that domestic image makes him want to ruin you on the kitchen counter.

• Watching you take care of yourself — Skin care, journaling, eating your vitamins — he’s genuinely turned on by how soft and healthy you are. Says it makes him want to protect you, then proceeds to pin you against the wall.

• When you defend him in arguments — He's used to defending you. But when you flip the script? Oh, he’s obsessed. Low-key looks at you like you just proposed.

• You humming while doing chores — He walks by, hears you humming, and suddenly he’s watching your every move like you’re the most fascinating creature alive.

• You resting your head on his lap — Soft touches to his thigh, a quiet little yawn, and your lips brushing his skin? He’ll be hard in 30 seconds and trying to hide it like a gentleman. Key word: trying.

Minho's Sexual Turn-Ons:

• Breathless whimpers — Especially when you try to hide them. That quiet gasp when he fingers you just right? He leans in close, grinning like the smug menace he is, and whispers, "Don’t hold back. Let them hear."

• Overstimulation — There’s nothing he loves more than seeing your legs trembling and hearing you say "I can’t" — only for him to keep going until you cum again anyway. "One more," he says, every time. "For me."

• Bondage — He doesn’t even need fancy ropes. Just your hands tied with a scarf and that helpless look in your eyes. He lives for control.

• Calling him sir in public subtly — It’s a dangerous game, but when you pull it off in a whisper while keeping your face all innocent? His grip on your thigh tightens. That’s your only warning.

• Cockwarming — He doesn’t even care if you finish. He just wants you sitting on him, needy and stuffed full while he makes you wait. Like the teasing sadist he is.

Minho's Non-Sexual Turn-Ons:

• Playing with his cats — The way you baby Soonie, Doongie, and Dori? You’re basically proposing. He’s already imagining you living together.

• When you don’t take his sass and throw it right back — He’s a menace, but when you sass him back with a smirk? He short-circuits and considers proposing on the spot.

• Your back when you’re putting your hair up — That stretch. That sliver of skin. Every damn time. It’s like you do it on purpose.

• When you laugh at his dumb jokes even when they’re bad — He pretends to hate it. But he secretly thinks you're the only person who gets him.

• Your hands in his hair — Pet him. Scratch his scalp. Stroke the back of his neck. Just know you’re not getting up again until he's done using you as a pillow...or something else.

Changbin's Sexual Turn-Ons:

• Praise kink — Call him a good boy and watch him melt. Say it while you're moaning, and he might cum on the spot.

• Thigh riding — He loves watching you grind against his thick thighs like you can’t help yourself. Bonus if you end up leaving a wet patch — he’ll tease you for it while looking so damn proud.

• Public teasing — Whisper something dirty in his ear at a restaurant and watch his face go red. He’ll get his revenge later — expect to be face-down in the sheets the moment you get home.

• Mirror sex — He’s obsessed with watching you watch yourselves. Especially when he’s got a hand around your throat and you’re whimpering his name. “Look how pretty you are when I ruin you.”

• Your mouth — Doesn’t matter where. Kisses, oral, whispering filthy things — if your mouth’s involved, he’s obsessed.

Changbin's Non-Sexual Turn-Ons:

• When you get excited about your hobbies — He loves seeing you geek out about your passions. Will sit and listen with the dopiest grin like you’re the most interesting person on Earth.

• Wearing his gym shirts — They’re huge on you and smell like him, and the sight makes him feral. Don’t be surprised if you get pulled into his lap.

• When you compliment his body without being shy — You grabbing his arms like, “Damn, baby”? Instant ego boost. Instant hard-on.

• Cooking together — You’re just chopping veggies and he’s behind you grabbing your waist like, “God, I’m so in love with you.”

• Snuggling into his chest while he’s sweaty — He’ll pretend to complain but secretly loves that you find him comforting even when he’s all gross from a workout.

Hyunjin's Sexual Turn-Ons:

• Slow, sensual makeouts that turn filthy — He loves building tension. Tongues, teeth, gasps — he’ll pin you against the wall mid-kiss just to see you breathless.

• Body worship — He wants to kiss and touch every inch of you, praising every curve and scar. "So pretty, baby. Mine. All mine."

• Choking kink (light) — He doesn’t do it too rough, but when he places a hand on your neck and you moan? It flips a switch.

• Being teased until he begs — Yes, he will beg. Tease him slow, whisper how desperate he is, and he’ll be whining your name like a prayer.

• Spit play — It’s filthy, it’s messy, and he loves it. You spitting into his mouth? Immediate collapse.

Hyunjin's Non-Sexual Turn-Ons:

• You letting him paint or sketch you — You're lying there, bare or not, and he’s staring at you like you’re a masterpiece.

• Dancing for/with him — It could be goofy or seductive. Either way, he’s got heart eyes.

• When you touch his face gently — Stroking his cheek? Fixing his hair? Babying him? He melts.

• Back hugs while he’s lost in thought — Sneak up and wrap your arms around him. He’ll lean back into you with the softest smile.

• Wearing his jewelry — His rings, his chain — it makes him feel like you’re marked by him. You know what that leads to.

Jisung's Sexual Turn-Ons:

• Dirty talk — from you — Whisper something filthy and watch him glitch. He tries to match your energy but usually ends up whimpering.

• Desperate kisses — The kind where your hands are in his hair and it feels like you’ll die if you don’t touch him. He gets off on the intensity.

• Messy blowjobs — The wetter the better. Tears, spit, your hands gripping his thighs — he might lose it before you even finish.

• Calling him your pretty boy — Stroke his ego while you ride him and he’ll literally cry.

• Your hands down his pants while cuddling — He loves sneaky touches. Gets flustered but never stops you.

Jisung's Non-Sexual Turn-Ons:

• Sharing food with him — Especially when you feed him bites from your fork. Boyfriend behavior.

• Laughing at his jokes — Whether they’re hilarious or awful, he thrives on your laughter.

• Playing with his hair — Scratch his scalp and he’ll purr. Literally.

• Matching pajamas — He acts like it’s silly but takes secret photos of you and stares at them when he’s stressed.

• When you fall asleep on his chest — He won’t move for hours. Claims he doesn’t care but will tweet “someone loves me fr” an hour later.

Felix's Sexual Turn-Ons:

• Praise kink (giving) — “That’s it, sunshine. Just like that.” Felix lives to see you glow under his words. You moan louder when he praises you, and he absolutely takes advantage.

• Eye contact while you’re on your knees — His voice drops when he sees you looking up at him. “You’re so pretty down there,” he breathes, brushing your hair back to get a clearer view.

• Temperature play — He loves dragging an ice cube down your skin or warming his hands and resting them between your thighs just to see you squirm.

• Mutual teasing until someone snaps — He’ll flirt, you’ll flirt back, and the moment turns into a game of who can break first. Spoiler: it's usually him.

• When you moan his name — Something about you purring out “Lixie” in that soft voice? He goes feral. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger and you know it.

Felix's Non-Sexual Turn-Ons:

• You calling him pet names in your sleepy voice — Baby, love, sweetheart — if you say it half-asleep while snuggled into him? He’s yours forever.

• When you bake for him and let him lick the spoon — Domestic Felix is activated. Bonus: if you let him smear chocolate on your lips just so he can kiss it off.

• You clinging to him when you’re scared or nervous — He puffs up like a protective guard dog. And afterward? He holds you tighter than usual.

• Soft humming while you do your skincare — It’s calming, cozy, and Felix will watch from the bed like he’s witnessing an angel.

• Cuddling with your legs tangled under a blanket — He rubs little circles into your calf and whispers about how much he loves your warmth.

Seungmin's Sexual Turn-Ons:

• Power play (him being in control) — He looks soft, but the way he grabs your chin and says, “Use your words, or I’ll stop,” proves he’s anything but.

• When you whimper while trying to stay quiet — He’ll smirk and lean in, voice low: “Don’t hide from me, baby. Let me hear you.”

• You getting bratty — He loves a little challenge. You roll your eyes? He’ll have you begging in five minutes.

• Dry humping while fully clothed — There’s something about the friction, the teasing, the way you grind on him with all your clothes still on. Torture — delicious torture.

• Your hands clutching at him — His hair, his back, his shirt — any desperate grab is rewarded with a deeper thrust and a dark chuckle.

Seungmin's Non-Sexual Turn-Ons:

• Matching socks — You didn’t even do it on purpose, but when he notices? He files it under “reasons we should live together forever.”

• You roasting him back — He teases. You tease back. He gets fake-offended, but secretly he’s thrilled you can keep up.

• Your sleepy voice when you first wake up — It’s all raspy and soft and makes his heart clench and pants tighten.

• When you instinctively reach for his hand in public — He won’t say anything, but his thumb will rub slow circles over your knuckles for the rest of the walk.

• The way you fold his laundry without being asked — Domestic acts of love? They hit him right in the chest. And yeah, he absolutely rewards you later.

Jeongin's Sexual Turn-Ons:

• Innocent-looking lingerie — White lace, pastel sets, anything that looks soft and sweet? He’s drooling. The contrast between how you look and how filthy you get wrecks him.

• Topping from the bottom — You whine, “Please, Inn-ie,” while guiding his hands exactly where you want them? He shudders. Thinks about it for days.

• Being called “baby boy” during soft dom moments — It flips a switch in him. His eyes go wide, ears go red, and his hips start stuttering.

• When you gasp his name during foreplay — Not loud, not forced — just a soft, needy “Innie…” and he’s already tugging his shirt off.

• Your thighs wrapped around his waist — He holds on tighter, thrusts deeper, and kisses you like he’s starved.

Jeongin's Non-Sexual Turn-Ons:

• You being confident in yourself — Whether it’s how you dress, speak, or carry yourself, he looks at you like you hung the moon. “Damn. That’s my girl.”

• Cuddling while watching cartoons together — You fall asleep on his chest mid-episode? He’s not moving for hours.

• The way you baby him when he’s stressed — You stroke his hair, call him sweet names, kiss his forehead. He won’t admit it, but it makes him feel safe.

• You sharing your hoodie with him — Bonus if it smells like you. Double bonus if it’s oversized and he drowns in it.

• When you compliment his voice — Whether he’s singing or talking, your compliments make him shy — but they also make him want to sing you to sleep that night.

𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡: @vampzity @sooniedoongiedori25 @mhluvie @yaorzu-blog @lze325 @felixleftchickennugget @m-325 @lezleeferguson-120 @psychicyouthfox @pixie-felix @angel-writes-here @heechwe @galaxy4489 @minniesverse @gncbnahc

(I'M STILL ADDING PEOPLE TO TAG! comment on any post, send an ask or a message if you want added!)

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binniesbobastay · 8 days ago

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Come right on me … I mean camaraderie - John Walker x reader

━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━

Word count: 3.5k

Description: You can't help the inappropriate thoughts that come out of your mouth during a mission, and John has to teach you a lesson, or multiple, about it.

“Holy shit, come right on me” You mumbled under your breath. His head snapped at you. No. There’s no way his hearing caught that.

Tags/warnings: smut, fem!reader is a horny menace, dominant John, long buildup, sex, overstimulation.

Note: This has Sabrina Carpenter levels of bluntness about being horny that's how I feel about this man. Kicked my feet while writing this. Enjoy 🫶🏼

Masterlist

It wasn’t your fault, really.

It wasn’t your fault that John Walker was a goddamn idiot. Or that he was also so painfully hot you’d been waking up to drenched panties after dreams where he made you his in the most filthy ways you could imagine.

It wasn’t your fault your brain crafted entire scenarios while you slept, where he was all over you, handsy, desperate, soaked in sweat.

And it really wasn’t your fault that Bucky kept pairing you up with him for missions. You were sure Yelena had something to do with that targeted sabotage.

You were down so bad for him, all the man had to do was exist. The way he led in front of you, the way he threw around orders under pressure, the particular way he had to shove targets against walls … your mind didn’t even try to behave anymore.

This morning, you’d woken up panting, sheets damp in a sweaty mess, mind adjusting to the fact that his head was between your legs only in your dream and not in reality.

How sad.

And now here you were, paired with him again in some random warehouse lab, Yelena and Bucky waiting back on the jet while you did your part of the mission.

“Did you get it?” His voice came in a growl through your comm, you could hear his grunts as he cleared your extraction route, and holy shit, why did that do things to you?

It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault.

You tucked the vial into your pocket, trying to focus. You cleared your throat before speaking.

“Package secured. I’m on my way to you.”

But before you could turn, a yelp went through the comm when a rough hand grabbed your shoulder and slammed you to the floor. You barely had time to gasp before a body pinned you down, heavy and aggressive, and a cold blade pressed against your throat.

You barely caught the attacker’s fist mid air, fighting the strength he was pushing down with, when a gloved hand stopped him. The man cried in pain when John twisted his arm away from your face. The next thing you knew, he went flying across room.

John had yanked him off you, throwing him away with a snarl that made your blood burn. He let his shield fall to the ground, before he stomped towards the guy, grabbed him by the collar, and smashed his fist into his face.

“So you like hitting pretty girls, huh?” He barked, punching again.

You watched from your spot on the floor, thoughts detailing from the moment he spoke. You bit your lip as he lifted the man to shove him into the wall. Those arms, those grunts … god.

Why on earth was that so hot?

"Holy shit, come right on me." You mumbled under your breath, weren’t even thinking as the words came out of your mouth.

His head snapped at you, dropping the body of the man.

Your eyes go wide. No. There's no fucking way his hearing caught that.

He started at you with furrowed brows and a hint of disbelief. Sweat clung to his hairline, making disheveled strands stick to his forehead, chest rising and falling under the weight of adrenaline.

That image wasn't helping at all.

"What?” He asked, voice coming out rougher than he intended.

Shit.

“I mean ... camaraderie! Y-yeah. Thanks for that" You blurted, pointing awkwardly at the half conscious guy on the floor like that explained anything.

He nodded hesitantly, squinting at you like he was trying to decide whether you were insane or he was.

In three long strides he walked over, standing over you offering his gloved hand. You took it, and in one swift motion he pulled you up, straight into him. His other hand landed firmly on the curve of your back, pressing you tightly against him.

Your uneven breathing hit his neck, barely reaching his jawline.

"That can be arranged" He mumbled, eyes dropping, just for a second, to your lips.

You were sure your brain just short circuited. Of course he heard your horny ass.

"John–"

Before you could say anything to defend whatever was left of your dignity, voices echoed from the hallway, and in a second, he spun you both behind a column, pressing you harshly against the wall. His palm instinctively covered your mouth, eyes locked on the entrance.

“Shh” he whispered, breath warm against your forehead. “Be quiet.”

The agents continued their way down the hall without noticing you were in the room, and John's posture relaxed slightly.

Yours didn't.

Being pinned against a wall, trapped by his larger frame of broad shoulders, feeling every ridge of his suit on your chest and something very solid pressing against your belt.

This. This is what dreams are made of.

You instinctively raised your knee, just enough to rub softly against the bulge in his suit. He sucked in a sharp breath, head jerking in your direction, hand still covering your mouth.

You notice the way his entire body tensed up again.

You brought your knee back down, slowly, and he looked like it physically pained him not to grab it back and rub against him one more time. His hand dropped from your mouth, and the smirk on your lips said everything.

You rose up on your toes, drawing your lips close to his ear.

"I bet it's even better than in my head." You teased, barely nibbling the edge of his ear.

You gasped when he pushed you tighter into the wall, jaw clenching with his fingers digging deeper onto your waist.

He was so so done for.

"Walker? Walker, come in." The comms static pierced through the tension, Yelena's voice breaking the silence. "Did you get it? We need to go. Now."

He hesitated for a second, hands twitching like he wasn’t ready to let your body go yet.

He wasn’t sure if he could trust his voice, and to be honest neither did you. He took a shaky breath, cleared his throat, and backed up a step.

"Y-yeah" He said, turning from you. His voice cracked slightly, so he cleared his throat again, and you bit your lip to keep from laughing."We got it. We’re heading to the jet now."

By the time he turned back around, you were already walking out, casually ahead of him like you hadn’t just driven him to the edge of self control.

The ride back to the watchtower was tense. You took the seat farthest from John, clearly not because you wanted to. No, you wanted to crawl into his lap and beg him to continue what you’d started, but self preservation said maybe don’t ride him in front of coworkers.

Considering Yelena and Bucky had been throwing knowing glances at you the whole time.

This was your fault after all.

Not being able to control your dirty thoughts, showing up all flustered and justifying it on almost getting sliced, pretending you could fool two polygraph detectors.

Whatever.

All you needed was a warm shower and to give yourself a little love to drown those inappropriate thoughts of yours about John.

Respectfully, of course.

You made your way across the hallway towards your room, thinking about getting that shower head as soon as you could between your thighs, when a door openned and hand grabbed you, shoving you inside that room.

The door to John's room slammed shut behind you with a solid thud. Before you could even turn around, he had you pressed up against it, hands holding his weight on the door, each placed next to your head.

"You don't get to do that shit, sweetheart" He groaned, standing close to your face. "You don't say those things to me in the middle of a mission and pretend I’ll just forget about it."

You breathe loudly, chest rising up and down, trying to wrap your head aground the fact that he had you caged in his room. You tilt your head to the side, might as well enjoy it.

"God forbid I have fantasies." You tease, without missing a bit.

Your knee went up to do the same thing you did earlier, but he took one hand off the door to stop it before it could reach his crotch, and let out a bitter laugh.

"You think you’re the only one who fantasizes? You think I don’t dream with that dirty pretty mouth of yours?"

Your breath hitched. His hands traveled to your waist, rough and possessive, thumbs digging into your hips like he was grounding himself, like the last part of him was barely holding back.

His lips brushed your neck, not kissing, just hovering. Teasingly . He pulled back, just enough to make you chase the contact, and that smug little smirk flickered on his lips.

He began guiding you away from the door, never splitting your bodies apart.

"You've been distracting me since day one" he muttered, backing you up until your legs hit the bed. "Wearing that tight suit and those damn lips. Always mouthing shit off, making me want to shut you up."

You whimpered, eyes dropping to the floor.

He tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at him.

"Oh, so now you're shy?" He teased, making a tsk tsk sound. "I want you to look at me now, when you talk like that."

His hands found the zipper of your suit, with a darkened look he stares at you for a moment, waiting for approval.

And fuck your heart was pounding. You needed someone to pinch you to make sure this wasn't a dream.

You nodded immediately, maybe a little too eager.

He chuckled at your desperation, taking his sweet time to take your one piece suit off, making sure he enjoyed every time your breath hitched when he grazed your skin. He dragged the fabric down, leaving you only in underwear.

As soon as the suit hit the floor, he pressed you down onto the mattress with one hand on your chest.

"You wanna tease me? Say filthy shit in the middle of a fight? Rub your knee against me like that?" His hand slid up your thigh, slowly claiming what’s always been his in your wildest dreams. "You don't get to walk away to find relief on your own."

Your breath stuttered, your hands instinctively went to the zipper of his suit, but he caught your wrists.

"John, come on–"

"No, you have to be patient like I’ve been" he said, dipping his head down to brush his lips across your collarbone. "I tried to be good. Tried to respect the mission."

He lifted his head, eyes locked on yours. "But you decided to be a brat and got me all worked up. Now I get to take my time with you."

He pulled himself back from your body, finally reaching for the top of his suit, messily dismantling it away to throw it off the bed.

You barely had time to breathe before he was on you again, kissing you hard, devouring you. His hands held your jaw, fingers rough and urgent, like he needed to keep you under him forever.

You gasped against his mouth, and that's when it slipped out.

"Been so wet all day since I woke up–“

He froze, immediately pulling back, eyes narrowed at you. "What was that?"

"N-nothing." You stuttered, too quick to be believable. He chuckled.

"No, go ahead sweetheart" he said, thumb dragging across your bottom lip. "Keep talking. You got so much to say, right?"

You opened your mouth but nothing more than a gasp came out when he pushed his hand between your thighs, grinding up against the wet spot on your panties.

"God dammit" he muttered, his fingers painfully grazing the fabric, barely touching it. "This all for me?"

You moaned, nodding. "Been saving it since the morning."

His cock twitched inside his pants at your confession. He softly slapped over your wet panties, making you jolt. "Always have something to say, don't you?" He slapped again when you nodded, harder this time, his fingers getting wet through the fabric.

He brought his fingers to his lips, and without hesitation, teased. "Tastes better than in my head."

"Fuck" you whined, head dropping to the bed. "This is so much worse now."

You were doomed. You were never coming back from this, from his touch.

From all of him.

He bitterly laughed. "You think this is hard for you?"

His hands found your hips, gripping tight. He rolled them up against his own, letting you feel how hard he was.

"I've had to walk around with this for weeks because of you. Every time you stretch, every time you bend over, every time you moan in your room–"

Your head snapped up to look at him, and his smirk deepened.

"Yeah, my room is next to yours. You think I don't hear you? Late at night, thinking you're being quiet?" He was so arrogantly casual about it, like it was something he'd wanted to confess for a long time.

That he heard you every time. A nasty little secret of yours he's kept locked for too long.

"You touch yourself thinking about me, sweetheart?" he asked, voice full of cockiness. "Bet you taste your own fingers after you're done, pretending it's me."

You wanted to yell at him and tell him he was so full of himself. But damn, he was right, all you wanted was to be full of him too.

Your hips jerked against him, your patience was running short. He hissed at your move, like the contact short circuited something in his brain.

"No shame either, didn't even try to deny it." He continued.

"That’s nothing" You shake your head teasingly. "You should hear the things that go through my head. You'd never look at me the same again."

He shook his head amused.

"Poor thing, can't even shut up about how bad she wants it."

You whined, the pool between your thighs starting to ache by the lack of his touch.

You tugged at his tactical pants. "Take them off, right now."

"Impatient" he scolded.

"I've been patient for months" you snapped, squirming under him. "You just never listened."

"Oh, I’m listening now" he growled. "I just have to be sure you can take it."

You reached up to run your hands across his chest, fingers tracing down his abdomen.

“I'll take it" you blurted, fingers dipping low enough to make him groan. "All of it."

He grinned, before fumbling with his pants, cursing when they got slightly stuck, ripping them down fast enough to make you laugh, until your eyes landed on him. On him.

"Oh my god." you breathed.

Shit. It was better than in your head.

Thick, swollen. Absolutely perfect.

He grinned. This is a sight he had only seen in dreams before. You laying on his bed, mouth parted open at the sight of his cock, ready to let him ruin you.

His mouth was on yours again, rough and needy this time, hands everywhere, yanking off the last pieces of fabric from your body like he'd earned it.

And boy, he had.

He lined himself up, dragging the hard tip through your slick entrance, teasing. But you saw it in his face, the way his jaw was clenched, like he was barely holding on.

"You sure, baby?" he asked. "I need you to say it."

You prompted yourself up by your shoulders, grabbing his face, beard tickling your fingers. "Make my fantasies come true, John."

That was all it took for him to push himself in, teasingly slow, beautifully thick, stretching you in the most delicious, overwhelming way. You moaned his name, head falling back on the mattress.

"Shit, so tight" he groaned, barely moving as your walls got used to him. "You're perfect. Fuck, you're perfect"

He couldn’t wait any longer. With no warning he was pounding into you like he meant it. Like a man who’d been dreaming about it for too long and finally got permission to ruin you.

He caged you against his body, his large hands gripped your hips so tight you'd definitely have marks.

You couldn't stop moaning, couldn't even form words. You were just a string of gasps, whimpers, and his name over and over like it was the only thing left in your brain.

"Fucking hell," he groaned, watching your face contort with every thrust. "Such a pretty little mess aren’t you?."

Your nails dragged down his back, trying to keep yourself grounded. But he was hitting that sweet spot with every thrust.

"Harder" you begged in the haze. "Please –fuck, please don't stop."

He growled. Like full on growled. He increased his speed, abusing of his enhanced strength. Your mouth dropped open in a cry, so perfectly wrecked he couldn't help the grin on his face.

"You gonna come for me, baby?" He grunted, feeling that familiar clench around his cock.

You just nodded, biting your lip. But he wasn't having that, he wanted to hear you. He leaned down, teeth grazing your ear.

"Then say it. Say what you say when you think I'm not listening"

Your brain scrambled. "W-what?"

"You know what, say it" he demanded. "Come right on me, wasn't it?"

You gasped, eyes wide as he continued to rearrange your entire system.

"Say it, sweetheart. Or I stop." He threatened, but you shook your head immediately.

You whined, thighs shaking around his waist. "Come ...fuck ... come right on you–"

You got the words mixed up, your brain completely fogged by the pleasure.

"There she is" he groaned, dragging your hips up for a better angle. "There's my filthy girl."

His praise sent your body over the edge, coming so hard it punched the air out of your lungs. And hell, he felt it. Every spasm. Every clench. He swore loud and shoved in deeper, chasing his own high.

"Where did you say you want it, baby? Say it one more time for me.” He panted, losing his rhythm, hips jerking erratically.

"Cum right on m-me" you blurted the right words this time, even while still trembling under him.

He slammed into you once, twice, before pulling out to spill all over your stomach you with a ragged growl, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, hips twitching as he emptied himself on your skin.

For a moment there was just your ragged breathing, and that slick, milky warmth dripping down your abdomen. Half his body weight rested on you, as he breathed on your neck.

"Holy shit" You mumbled, gasping, when he placed a kiss on your shoulder.

Only a few seconds passed.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he was moving up again, feeling his hard dick against your stomach like he didn't just fill you up.

Your eyes fluttered open, confusion clouding your post orgasm haze.

"Wait, John" you panted, "you're still...?"

"Oh, baby" he chucked, flipping you over to press your chest to the mattress. He dragged your ass back to him, slow and possessive. "We're not done yet."

You gasped as he slid back in with one deep thrust, your body was too sensitive, walls fluttering around him as he groaned, gripping your hips tight to steady himself.

"You don't get to talk like that" he said, something darker in his voice now. "Say that filthy shit. Look at me the way you do, like you're ready to drop to your knees in the middle of a mission–"

"J-John" you whimpered, he felt even bigger than before.

"–and expect me to stop after one round?"

He started to move. Long, slow strokes that made your toes curl. Your face pressed to the sheets, moaning like you didn't care if your teammates heard.

"John … it's too good, too much..."

By this point you weren’t thinking clearly anymore, words coming out slurred.

"You can take it" He pushed himself harder. "You told me you could, sweetheart."

You whimpered into the pillow, your body trembling. Every thrust hit deeper, harder, somehow better than before. Pleasure curling up your spine, threatening to drag you over the edge again.

“You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me” he muttered, leaning in closer, his voice brushing the back of your neck. “Or maybe you do. Maybe that’s the whole fucking point.”

You were so close. The overstimulation was making you see stars, enough to make you cry out his name again and again.

"So good for me. Could stay inside you all night." He praised, grunting, his hands roaming your back.

Your body crashed out again, louder this time, absolutely zero control over it, your orgasm ripping through you so hard your vision went white.

He lost it.

You cried out his name one last time as you felt him come again, body twitching while this time he filled you up, muttering curses into your back like he was trying to bury them in your skin.

He stayed like that for a moment, buried deep with uneven breathing, chest on your back. You don’t know how long passed, until he pulled out slowly, a hiss catching in his throat as you whimpered softly under him.

"Sorry, sweetheart" he mumbled, his hand softly rubbing your back, "You okay?"

You nodded, completely blissed out. Couldn’t trust yourself to speak properly at this point.

He kissed the back of your neck, so soft, completely opposite to the way he just wrecked you. You couldn't hold your body up any longer, so he helped you flip around to rest your back on the mattress.

"Still breathing, baby?" he whispered, brushing your hair from your damp face.

You let out faint laugh, your vision finally coming back to normal. "Barely."

"Good, we were just getting started."

━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━

Part 2 coming soon, let me know if you want a tag 🖤 trust me you won’t wanna miss that one 🙂‍↕️

comments and reblogs save author’s lives, thank you so much for reading <3

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binniesbobastay · 8 days ago

Text

Just the tip

Pairing: Bang Chan × fem! Reader

Genre : smut (drabble)

Synopsis: after purposely making Chan jealous, you’re left to fall apart on just the tip—taunted, overstimulated, and utterly ruined by his slow, punishing control.

Your thighs ache from how long he’s kept you open, how long he’s kept himself just out of reach.

Chan’s barely touched you tonight. Barely kissed you. Barely even looked at you when he first came in ...just a tight jaw and that calm, dangerous silence that made your stomach twist. You thought maybe he’d let it go. Thought maybe he wouldn’t say anything.

But now? Now he’s between your legs, cock in hand, and you're wrecked...from his fingers, his mouth, and his patience that’s clearly not kindness.

“You thought you were being cute, didn’t you?” His voice is low, rough, words dragging like honey over broken ice. “Acting like I wouldn’t notice.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your throat’s tight, eyes glassy, lips swollen from all the whining. You’re already so sensitive, twitching under his every touch but it’s not enough. Not even close.

And he knows it.

He drags the thick head of his cock through your soaked folds, up over your clit and back down to your entrance. Every pass makes your hips jump, your fingers curl in the sheets.

“You want me to fuck you now?” he asks, smirking as you whimper and nod. “After the little stunt you pulled?”

“I'm sorry,” you whisper, but it sounds more like begging. “I need you, Channie, please.”

“You will get me, sweetheart,” he hums, lining himself up with lazy precision. “I told you I’d fuck you. Didn’t say how much.”

And before you can speak again he pushes in.

Just the tip.

The stretch is immediate—hot, unbearable but it’s barely anything. You clench around him, already needy, but before your body can even adjust, he stops.

Your eyes flutter open. “Wha… why’d you stop?”

Chan leans over you, his smirk lazy, dangerous. “That’s all you get.”

Your lips part in shock, a soft whimper escaping. “N-no, Channie—please—”

He draws back slowly, then pushes in again with the same shallow depth just enough to make your body twitch, your thighs shake.

“You think you get to act like that,” he murmurs, his tone smooth but sharp, “and I’ll still let you feel all of me?”

You don’t respond ...you can’t too consumed by the way he’s moving, maddening and precise, just the tip brushing your walls in those short thrusts.

His voice drops, darker now. ��Batting your lashes at someone else. Laughing like I wasn’t there.”

Your face burns. “I didn’t—”

“You did.” His hips press forward, just a little deeper but not enough. Never enough. “And now look at you. Spread out for me. Crying for my cock.”

You whimper as his thumb finds your clit—barely touches it, just grazes it and your whole body jolts.

“Sensitive already?” he taunts. “And I haven’t even given you a real stroke yet.”

His pace stays slow. Shallow. Rhythmic. It’s torture your body clenching desperately, needing more but he gives you nothing. Just that thick, teasing pressure and his words in your ear.

“Is my tip not enough for you now, huh?” he murmurs, breath hot against your skin. “After the little show you put on?”

You gasp, fingers clawing at the sheets. “Please, Channie… I need all of you.”

He chuckles, low and dark, thrusting just deep enough to make your toes curl then pulling back out to the tip again.

“No,” he growls. “This is all you get. For being such a reckless little thing.”

Your back arches. The build-up is unbearable now, that slow grind of frustration and overstimulation coiling deep in your gut. You try to shift your hips to get more but he holds you down.

“Don’t even try,” he warns. “You’re not getting a single inch more.”

He starts moving just a little faster, the wet slide of him inside you obscene, his tip hitting the same sweet spot over and over.

Your thighs tremble. Your breaths turn ragged.

“Gonna cum from just this?” he taunts, low and satisfied. “From barely anything? That desperate for me?”

You’re nodding before you even realize it, vision swimming.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You are. You’re gonna cum like this. Look at you.”

The coil inside you finally snaps—hot, sharp, overwhelming.

You cry out, falling apart on just the tip, your cunt fluttering around him as your orgasm rolls through, too strong to hold back.

Chan doesn’t stop.“Shit—” he grits, his thrusts faltering as your tight walls milk him. “Gonna—fuck—”

He presses forward, still just barely inside, and you feel it...his cock twitching as he cums with a low moan, warm pulses spilling right at your entrance.

But even then, he’s not done.

He pulls out, slow and deliberate, and you whimper at the sudden emptiness. Then his fingers slide down collecting the mess he left and drag it through your soaked folds, over your swollen clit.

You jolt. “Channie—!”

“Mm,” he hums. “Didn’t think my tip would break you.”

You can barely move, still twitching, but he leans in, voice a whisper against your jaw.

“Next time you want my attention,” he murmurs, rubbing lazy circles through the cum slicked over your clit, “just ask. No more games.”

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