#[u can't give me an inch] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ugh-yoongi · 15 days ago

Note

hi. i would like to request seungcheol (obviously). all i request is enemies-to-lovers. you may do with this what you wish. i leave it up to you to decide exactly how you will ruin my life 😌

tysm for the request my beloved !! he is so enemies to lovers coded i had TEWWW many thoughts (and started three separate wips oops), but here we are. i hope u enjoy this !! can't wait to get the collab fics out of the way so i can torture u further with baseball dk. i picked dodgers hat!cheol just for u. ♡

— we need to talk

pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader summary: sometimes the only way to win the game is to not play, but sometimes it's not a game at all—sometimes it's four years of emotional build-up with nowhere left to hide. genre: enemies (kinda) w benefits to lovers; frat/university au; smut, angst?, fluff rating: explicit. minors do not interact with this or any of my work. warnings: frat boys. gendered language and insults. swearing. mentions of drugs & drug use (vernon is literally a drug dealer 🤷🏻‍♀️) as well as alcohol. possessive, jealous seungcheol who is extremely down bad and kind of an asshole and would be toxic af irl but is fine in fanfiction probably. this is maybe more "people who used to fuck and started disliking each other along the way bc they can't figure out their feelings" to lovers than enemies. there are very slight, very meaningless mingyu x reader undertones here. jeonghan is a bastard. feelings you think are unrequited but alas! this got softer than i intended oops. smut warnings: seungcheol truly is a man driven to the brink of madness bc of pussy idk what to say. kissing. hair pulling. mentions of masturbation. the dynamics shift in this one a lot, but to be overly cautious i will say dom!cheol and slightly dom!reader undertones that are not implicitly stated or defined. seungcheol uses the term "whore" once, sorry. oral sex (f. receiving). pussy slapping. unprotected sex. if i missed any pls lmk. wordcount: 8k. no i do not know what a drabble is, leave me alone. author's note: title from the song of the same name by waterparks but this was actually brought to you by "i'll never stop" by nsync bc it's their best song and fit the vibes perfectly. anyway, i still do not love writing smut but i am insane over this man so whatever, we persevere. everyone go shower mj in lots of love bc she's the best and deserves it. also everyone say thank u @the-boy-meets-evil for looking over this for me. i did not look at this again after she beta'd it so any mistakes are of my own stupidity. <3

Seungcheol is incensed.

What in the fuck are you thinking, showing up here? Ignoring him, walking by him with nothing more than a brush to the elbow and that sultry, electric gaze? A pair of painted-on jeans and a sheer top?

Who the fuck had invited you?

He looks around the room, gaze heavy under his furrowed brow. Bass thumps in his ears, the music so loud he can feel it in his chest. Still, his feet stay planted on the floor, already sticky with spilled alcohol and god knows what else. He needs to find Vernon—just needs something to get through this very unexpected (and very unpleasant) surprise, take the edge off.

But he can’t see through the sea of people. They’re everywhere, occupying every inch of available space in the house, but he just needs a glimpse of that mop of cornflower blue hair. If he could just—

Instead, he sees a streak of white-blond in his peripheral vision. “Soonyoung!” he calls, grabbing the man by the arm. “Hey, have you seen Vernon?”

Soonyoung stares up at him with glassy, bloodshot eyes, his breath already stinking of alcohol as he shrugs and says, “Dunno, hyung. Think he’s upstairs.”

Fingers still wrapped around his bicep, Seungcheol heaves a sigh. “Go find Jeonghan. He’s on babysitting duty and you’re already fucked.”

“I’m fine,” Soonyoung argues, slurred words giving him away immediately.

Seungcheol scoffs. “Bro, you can barely stand and you reek of shitty vodka. Go drink some water.”

As he sends Soonyoung away, he can feel eyes boring into him, tension wound tight in the center of his back that refuses to dissipate no matter how many times he rolls his shoulders. He turns slowly, already knowing exactly what he’ll find, but knowing does little to stop the hitch of breath as he takes you in.

And he hates it. Fuck, he hates the effect you have on him more than anything.

Hates that he’s still pining after you. Hates that all you have to do is look at him and he’s putty in your hands. Hates that you’re the first person he looks for in a room, the last person on his mind before he falls asleep. Hates you, hates that all of this is unreciprocated, because if Choi Seungcheol is anything, it’s proud. He’s rich, he’s good-looking, he’s pre-law, and the president of this fraternity, for fuck’s sake—he should not be hung up on a girl.

But he’d been doomed from the beginning. Ever since you’d been assigned to him as a challenge to overcome, an impossible task to conquer, he’d been helplessly, pathetically smitten with you.

And fuck if you didn’t know it, too.

So, it’s a game now. A lifetime’s worth of pining for Seungcheol all because his frat was misogynistic and refused to keep up with the times. They’d nodded in your direction and laughed at the confusion on his face, the knot between his brows. Seungcheol couldn’t figure out why his initiation was to fuck a girl, one his brothers wouldn’t even address by name, but when he’d approached you at a party and you’d immediately told him to go fuck himself, he’d figured it out pretty quick.

Call it determination, call it a stubborn streak that refused to quit, but the two of you soon came to a reluctant agreement: you would let Seungcheol lie to his frat, figuring he was attractive enough that people thinking you’d slept together wouldn’t be complete social suicide, and he’d owe you a favor you’d keep in your back pocket for as long as it took to cash in.

Which hadn’t taken long. The stress of finals that first year had gotten to all of you, and it wasn’t long before you were at his door looking for his drug-dealing roommate and a quick fuck.

That was the second time Seungcheol had been doomed to hopeless pining, because once he had you, he knew it’d be impossible to let you go.

Short of outright saying the words, he’d all but told you as much during some alcohol-induced brain shortage junior year. And, in turn, you’d all but laughed in his face.

Right.

Of course.

That was to be expected.

So, you’d continued your… well, whatever this is: quick fucks when both of you were bored or lonely or horny, usually under the influence of something illegal; a mutually tense but beneficial relationship for each of you, because you had been Seungcheol’s initiation and the initiation itself awarded him connections and opportunities. You got a back-up plan. A safe body and warm bed to retreat to when the need arose—one who clearly wanted it to be something more, but was, all things considered, fine with the current arrangement. Didn’t pressure you.

But, as was also to be expected, it was never going to be that simple when feelings got involved. When he started feeling slighted. When he wanted you so bad he ached with it sometimes and it was beneath you to care. Which is why he really, really needs to find Vernon. If he’s going to endure an entire party with you, he’s not going to do it sober.

He takes the steps two at a time, feet stumbling onto the landing as soon as he reaches it. Vernon’s door is the third on the left, and he can hear a separate, distinct bass line from the one booming downstairs that hums louder the closer he gets.

And Vernon knows. Of course he does, because he’s yanking his door open before Seungcheol has even raised a hand to knock, the stench of weed seeping out into the hallway, and all he needs is a quick look at Seungcheol before he pulls the door open wider and says, “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States of America,” as if he’s speaking into a microphone. When Seungcheol doesn’t react, he awkwardly tacks on, “Hi, hyung. I’m assuming she’s here.”

Seungcheol nods, dumbly, and stands as awkwardly in the center of the room as someone who’s about to ask their roommate for drugs tends to be. “Yeah.” Shoves his hands in the pockets of his overpriced jeans so Vernon can’t see the sheen of sweat.

“You looking for somethin’ specific?” he asks, rifling through the top drawer of a tall dresser. “Like, is this an I’m about to fuck her the rest of the night visit or an I need something to help me forget she doesn’t actually like me visit?”

The words come like a reflex. “Fuck you,” he seethes. Vernon’s not wrong, per se, but he didn’t have to go and just… say it like that.

Vernon just shrugs, one side of his worn-out collar slipping down his shoulder as he does so, and Seungcheol can’t tell if he’s actually dressed for the party or not. “Gonna guess it’s the second one, then.”

Seungcheol scoffs. “Well, it’s not,” he insists, knowing damn well he should let it go, that he’s just digging himself a bigger hole, but the truth sits in the pit of his stomach like lead.

And, really, he knows he just needs to accept it. That little strand of hope hasn’t brought him anything but more pain—allowed him to delude himself into thinking it could be something more, something tangible—and it’s time to let it go.

You don’t want more.

You don’t want the label and the relationship.

You don’t want him.

He knows this, but it still tastes sour in his mouth. Still tastes like the chill of autumn when you’d first showed up at his door all that time ago. Tastes like all the blunts you’ve shared and the liquor from all the parties you’d snuck away in the middle of. Tastes like the sharp notes of your perfume, the ones that’d coat his tongue when he’d kiss down your neck—the same notes that stain his bedsheets.

Mostly, it’s the pitying look Vernon’s giving him that hurts the most. He’s above pity. Doesn’t need it, especially not from Vernon Chwe, but it hurts all the same to be on the receiving end of it.

“Give me whatever you’ve got.”

Vernon’s face quickly morphs into surprised concern. “Uh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I mean, I’ve got some pretty heavy shit here.”

Heat flares in his belly. The pity was bad enough—now he wants to be patronizing? “Then give me whatever the fuck you think I need,” he snaps. “I don’t care. I don’t have time for this shit.”

“Well, you definitely need to chill,” Vernon mumbles. “You want some dabs?”

“No. Something…” The word feels thick in his mouth. Stronger implies that Seungcheol does heavy drugs, and that’s not true. “Else,” he finally finishes.

Vernon sighs as he continues rifling through the drawer. “Your dad would fucking kill me if I gave you my real heavy shit, so…” He pauses, eyebrows raising in triumph as he finds what he was looking for: a small baggie filled halfway with some nondescript powder. “You want a bump?”

Maybe he should be ashamed at how quickly he agrees, at the urgency and greed with which he grabs the baggie from Vernon’s fingers, but he just needs something. Needs the distraction, the brain fog. He shoves it in his back pocket next to his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

Vernon wrinkles his nose. “Nah. Consider that one a freebie. No offense, but you’re a real piece of shit when you’re like this.”

The implication only pisses him off more. Seungcheol is loaded—he can afford to pay his drug dealer, thank you very much—but he’s not like anything. “I’m sorry?”

True to his nature, Vernon barely shrugs. “I’ll put it on your tab, hyung,” he says in a way that implies he’s not at all going to do that and is only saying so to get the fraternity president off his back.

Jeonghan (23:12) Better come get your girl. Kim Mingyu’s dick looks like it’s halfway up her ass by now. Jeonghan (23:12) Uh oh! I think I just saw a testicle

Seungcheol stares down at his phone, hands trembling in anger. Of course it’s Mingyu. That pathetic loser has been taking up residence on the subs bench ever since you’d made out with him months ago in an admittedly successful attempt at payback. Seungcheol had hooked up with some downgrade at a party one time and you’d gone and made out with his friend. It was hardly a fair trade.

Seungcheol (23:14) Good for Mingyu, he can deal with her then Seungcheol (23:14) I’m busy Jeonghan (23:14) Doing what? Jerking off in the upstairs bathroom again? Jeonghan (23:15) Do you know what size condom he wears btw? Looks like I might need to fetch him one if you don’t want to take care of another man’s baby Jeonghan (23:16) Although, to be fair, you might want to sit this one out. He has way better bone structure than you. Might be a blessing in disguise Seungcheol (23:16) Fuck you Jeonghan (23:16) Better be nice to me, Choi Seungcheolie~ that might be the only fuck you get tonight

Seungcheol needs better friends. He needs a lot of things, really, but number one on his to-do list is to never let Jeonghan be on babysitting duty ever again. Somehow he’d forgotten how obnoxious Yoon Jeonghan is when he isn’t stoned and half-asleep on a couch somewhere.

For now, he just stomps down the hallway; locks himself in his room and doesn’t bother to turn on the light. He’s not going to be here long. Just enough time to do this line, change his t-shirt, and come up with a game plan, because he’s not going to let Mingyu even entertain the thought of being able to have you but he also can’t appear desperate. Not just to you, but to everyone else. Choi Seungcheol is not clingy, especially not over a girl.

Especially especially over a girl who doesn’t even want him like that.

But the longer he sits in the dark, the more trouble he has finding his resolve. Can’t bring himself to dig that baggie out of his pocket. Can’t drag his t-shirt over his head. Can’t bring himself to think about anything other than Mingyu’s hands all over you, and fuck, does that image drive him insane.

Does he touch you like Seungcheol does?

Does he coax those same jagged whimpers from your mouth like Seungcheol does?

Does his semi-hard cock feel as good pressed against you?

God, he’s so fucked. Utterly and completely fucked. And he wonders if this would be as bad if he’d just kept his mouth shut, took that secret to his grave instead of fooling himself into thinking it could be more. If it wouldn’t have devolved into… this. You’d always told him not to get attached, that sex was just sex and there was no need to ruin a good thing. But Seungcheol is a selfish man, always has been, and what if? is a dangerous question.

Jeonghan (23:36) Wow, you’re a fucking pussy. Stop hiding in your room like a little bitch. Seungcheol (23:36) Fuck off

He can’t go down there. Not because he’s a coward, but because he’s barely tethered to his sanity as it is. Something about you brings him out of his mind, makes him toss whatever good judgment he has left to the wind. Seungcheol is far too impulsive when it comes to you, reckless in ways that have all twenty years of his social training weeping in a corner; have alarm bells ringing in his brain. So, no, he can’t go downstairs right now because he knows he’ll do something stupid. Stick not only his foot but his entire lower body in it. He should’ve listened, yet here he is, dick pulled halfway out of his jeans because the thought of you alone gets him hard but his pride won’t let him jerk off to the image of anyone touching you that’s not him.

Forget whatever Jeonghan had called him. He’s a fucking fool. A moonstruck, delusional fool who’d tricked himself into thinking he could swim when he can barely tread water.

You (23:41) Something wrong?

Oh, here we fucking go, he thinks. Because this is Seungcheol’s game—one he’d perfected years ago, the one where he’s coy and chilly, never too eager, never committed. Just a little bit of a tease. Barely enough to keep them on the hook, a little needy; still enough to keep them coming back. But you’d taken one look at him all those years ago and had him pegged immediately. Figured out his game and learned the rules, used them against him. Now you watch him flounder with a smile on your face.

Seungcheol (23:42) Never knew you were so needy baby. First you show up uninvited and now youre missing me?

But just because there’s now a player two doesn’t mean he’s doomed to lose. He knows how you look when you’re on your knees for him. Knows how you sound when you’re begging to cum and stuttering out his name like you’re singing hymns. Knows how you look with your eyes rolled back after he’s fucked you dumb. Kim Mingyu doesn’t know shit.

Seungcheol knows he’s the only one fortunate enough to experience you like this.

And god does it kill him.

You (23:44) Don’t act stupid

A pleased exhale of laughter, an equally-smug smirk. Yeah, this is still Seungcheol’s game, the crown still sitting atop his head. You can let Mingyu grind his dick against you all you want, but Seungcheol is still the one you’re seeking out, pouting at the fact he hasn’t come to find you yet.

You (23:44) Mingyu invited me

Oh, you’re good—know just which buttons to press and how much pressure to use. Whatever smug expression Seungcheol had been wearing slides off his face immediately, tongue pressing into his cheek.

Seungcheol (23:46) And yet youre looking for me? You (23:47) Don’t have to look for you to know you’re upstairs sulking in your room because Jeonghan tattled on me like a fucking five year old Seungcheol (23:49) Maybe you should come up here then Seungcheol (23:49) Away from prying eyes

You don’t reply immediately. It’s just long enough for Seungcheol’s brain to conjure up something indecent—the way you’ll straddle him, the way his cock will feel pressed against the apex of your thighs; the goosebumps that’ll raise on his arms when you work your tongue along his neck, that spot near his collarbone you know he likes. His cock throbs against the confines of his jeans when he thinks about the devastated look on Mingyu’s face when you make up some excuse to get away from him, to traipse up the stairs and fall into Seungcheol’s bed, when he realizes he’s not going to have you.

You (23:56) It’d be pretty rude to leave my date, don’t you think? You (23:57) If you want me so bad, come down here and get me yourself

Seungcheol doesn’t play games; doesn’t compete because he has no competition. He’s always been given whatever he wants on a silver platter, no questions asked, so he’s wholly unprepared for this turn of events. What he knows he should do (respond to your text and tell you to fuck off, that you know where he is should you stop being a brat and change your mind) is not what he does (tucks his dick back in his jeans, finally throws on a clean t-shirt, and takes his time descending the stairs so he doesn’t look too eager), because logical thought gets tossed out the window entirely wherever you’re concerned.

“Ah, if it isn’t our resident pissbaby making his grand re-entrance.”

Seungcheol clenches his jaw for the nth time and glares. “Fuck off, Jeonghan.”

The man in question laughs—the annoying raspy one that grates on Seungcheol’s nerves—and hands over a cup of something brown and pungent. “Well, judging from your attitude, and the fact you’re barely hiding that boner you’ve got, you clearly didn’t spend your time away jerking off. What finally got you down here, the promise of cheap whiskey I nicked off some freshman or the fact that your girlfriend’s about two seconds from getting a public indecency charge courtesy of Kim Mingyu?”

Well. Jeonghan may be an asshole but he’s not wrong. Even through the crowd of people and the haze of whatever’s in his cup and a contact high, Seungcheol spots you immediately. Your back is pressed against Mingyu’s chest, his fingers gripping tight at your waist as you roll your hips in time with his. Whatever manufactured filth he’s whispering to you draws a smile, causes you to reach up and tug sharply at his hair. Fuck, Seungcheol can almost hear Mingyu’s moan from across the room, and his blood quickly heats to a rapid boil.

Another chuckle from the demon beside him. “Stop fucking laughing,” Seungcheol snaps, still unable to take his eyes off of you. “Fuck this. I’m going back upstairs. Make sure everyone’s out of here by three. I’m not paying for another noise citation.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “I’m absolutely not going to do that.” He shoves a bottle of something in Seungcheol’s hand. “Take this and think of me when you’re crying yourself to sleep because Mingyu stole guaranteed pussy right out of your hands.”

“Why do you do this?” Seungcheol asks, shoving at Jeonghan’s shoulder roughly. “You never know when to fucking quit.”

Another streak of white-blond. “Hey, no fighting!” Soonyoung slurs, trying his best to push Seungcheol to the other side of the kitchen with his useless, limp arms.

This attracts the attention of Joshua, who struts into the room looking straight out of Fashion Week, much like he always does. He hasn’t even broken a sweat. “Aw, are Mom and Dad fighting again?” he asks, his lips tugged into a smirk. He ignores Seungcheol’s scowl as he fixes himself a drink. “You know Mingyu only does it to get a reaction out of you,” Joshua adds, quieter this time, as if he’s telling Seungcheol a secret only meant for the two of them to share.

“What’s her excuse, then?” Seungcheol fires back, because even if he doesn’t like it, Joshua’s right. This is exactly the kind of behavior he’d expect from resident campus whore Kim Mingyu, but he never expected you to go along with it.

Joshua cocks an eyebrow. “She doesn’t need an excuse, Cheol. She’s not your girl.”

Even though it’s a truth he already knows, it somehow hurts worse being spoken in plaintext, a hushed conversation in a crowded kitchen. Being let down gently. Seungcheol knows he needs to make a decision. He needs to let you go and start moving on with his life; can’t be having these quasi-meltdowns during frat parties anymore. Can’t be possessive and spiteful. You don’t want him. Everyone knows you don’t want him, so that’s all there is to it. Maybe you’ll want Mingyu and he can finally wash his hands of this forever, scrape the jealousy off his tongue.

He steels himself. Rolls his shoulders back, cracks his neck. Navigates the crowd in the living room until he reaches you and your so-called date. Grabs you by the elbow—gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt but firm enough to send a message—and says the two of you need to talk. Upstairs. Now. Mingyu just smiles like he knew this was coming and presses a pointless, wasted kiss just below your ear. Seungcheol tells him to fuck off, too, and Mingyu grins wider, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

As he guides you to his room, he doesn’t think about the way your hand fits in his. Doesn’t think about how this is going to be the last time he has you. Doesn’t think about who’ll have you after. Doesn’t bother to wonder if you’ve finally changed your mind like he had all those other times he’d walked this same familiar path with you in tow. Because it’s the last time. Whatever happens once it’s over is out of his control.

Perhaps that’s what it’d always been about. Seungcheol has always been spoiled and selfish and so terribly, terribly desperate to prove he’s more than his family name and family money. So, yeah, he’d wanted the control; wanted what was never his for the taking. You’d always been the opposite—his perfect little counterpart. Always so pliant and careless and free: everything Seungcheol tried so hard to be but couldn’t, and that’s where the switch flipped.

Someone like you isn’t meant to be controlled.

What he used to want so badly now tastes rancid in his mouth.

The door locks behind you. Seungcheol doesn’t meet your eye as he says, “You got what you wanted. Are you done being a fucking brat?” It’s not a tone he usually takes. Usually he’s dirty, a little possessive, willing to let you set the pace. He doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches. “I asked you a question.”

“Seungcheol—”

He clicks his tongue, stalks closer until you’re nearly in his grasp. Your eyes close instinctively as if you’re expecting his mouth on yours. Instead, he threads his long fingers in your hair and pulls. “What’s so hard about answering a simple yes or no question? Did you really want Mingyu’s dick so bad you’ve gone dumb all of a sudden?”

You gasp. “No.”

“No what?” Seungcheol chides. “No, you’re not done being a brat? Or no, you weren’t just downstairs acting desperate and pathetic for mediocre cock?” He runs his thumb across the seam of your lips, follows their movements as you speak.

“I wasn’t—”

A low, mocking chuckle. “You were, baby.” Sounds condescending; speaks to you like you’re a stupid child. He’s so close to you now. Can smell the tang of your skin, the sticky notes of your perfume. Feels your breath fan against his own sweat-slick skin. Still avoids your gaze, because as domineering as he appears, he knows he can unravel just as quickly. “Take your clothes off. This is the last time I’m gonna fuck you and I’m not going to ask twice.”

Now you truly look caught off-guard. “What?” Still he ignores you, expensive silver rings clinking into a dish on his dresser one by one, expensive watch following. “What do you mean the last time?”

Deft fingers play at the buttons on his shirt. Not silk, but just as expensive. “Shit. You’re really testing my patience, you know.” You’re still standing at the edge of his bed, staring dumbly as if he’s just going to start spilling all his secrets, give you some kind of explanation. “I believe I told you to strip.”

Unlike Seungcheol, your fingers tremble as they work at buttons and zippers and hemlines, push down denim and remove heels. It’s clear you’re trying to work out what he’s playing at—if this is some punishment for fucking around with Mingyu or if he really means it—but you’re not going to risk asking. Things between the two of you are already tense as it is. Seungcheol has never been wound this tight, never been so ready to snap.

“That’s it,” he praises once you’re left in nothing but a skimpy underwear set you know he likes. “Look at you. Fucking gorgeous. I bet that’s why you think you can get away with embarrassing me, huh?” He grabs your chin, forces you to meet his gaze for the first time since he’d dragged you up here. “Get on your knees. I’m getting tired of repeating myself.”

It’s not an unfamiliar sight—as it is, you usually leave Seungcheol’s room with bruised knees on a good night—but it settles differently in his gut this time. Because he’d dared a glance at you once and knows he can’t do it again, so he watches the top of your head as you fumble with his belt buckle and looks away whenever he thinks you might risk a glance upwards. Finds some point on the wall to focus on. Hisses through his teeth when you pull his cock from his briefs, your hands cold against his flushed skin.

All he wants to do is kiss you. Draw this out. Give you a memorable last time, maybe mark you up a little. He really wants to savor the feeling of your tongue on his cock, but all he can focus on is the fact that he’ll never be enveloped in that wet heat again. He’s never going to feel your mouth working him over, feel you humming around his length because he knows you love the weight of it, you love wrenching away that little bit of control, turning him into a mess.

But he’s not going to dwell. He’s going to thumb at the hinge of your jaw, force it open just wide enough for his cock to fit inside. Then he’s going to fist your hair into a makeshift ponytail, grip it tight, use it to guide your mouth until there’s only an inch of space between you. He’s going to stare down at you, silently revel in how fucked out you look already even though he hasn’t touched you. He’s going to watch the way your fingers dig into your thighs because they can’t touch him. Then he’s going to say—

“Beg me. Beg me to let you suck my cock.”

There’s a flicker of hesitation. Seungcheol doesn’t talk to you like this. This is not the kind of dynamic the two of you have, and Seungcheol finds himself wondering if things would be different if it was. If he’d never started going so easy on you. Would you want him then? Or would you have left a long time ago?

He’s half-expecting you to do that now. You look ready to bolt, to pull your clothes back on and tell him to go fuck himself on the way out. Probably go straight back to Mingyu, let him fuck you hard but routine, the way Seungcheol usually does, the way he knows you like. He expects you to leave, and this is the last time, anyway, so he figures he has nothing left to lose.

“I’m going soft,” he snaps, the admonishment harsh on his tongue. When you look up at him, his jaw is clenched, eyes narrow. “You have one fucking job and you can’t even do that properly? Who’s going to want a dumb little whore that can’t follow simple instructions?”

He watches your eyes squeeze shut involuntarily. Wonders if he’s gone too far before deciding he doesn’t care if he has. It’s the last time, anyway, so it’s not like it matters. Watches the indents in your thighs grow deeper. Watches you inhale and try to steady your breathing.

Watches your eyes snap open, any trace of hesitation long gone. “Did you make that other girl beg for you?”

Seungcheol snorts, amusement showing all over his face. “Is that what this is about? You’re still mad I hooked up with some other girl so you act like this?” He clicks his tongue at you, fists his cock, slicking it up. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” you answer simply, “I’m just trying to figure out why you think you can speak to me however the fuck you want.”

Seungcheol’s hand stutters along his length before it stills, your words sharp and immediate against his skin. He should’ve known. Shouldn’t have thought something like this would work on you, that you’d like it, and he’s halfway to soft and throwing his hands up and tucking his dick back into his briefs when you say, “Answer the question.”

“What?”

You tsk. Move your hands from your thighs to his, nails pressing just deep enough to leave crescent moons behind that match your own. Something for someone else to see. “Did you make her beg for you?”

Seungcheol’s brain power decreases the higher your palms go, when your thumbs press into the dimples of his hips. Can barely choke out a hissed yes, yeah, fu-fuck when your hand covers his, fingers wrapping tightly around his own as you guide it back and forth, up and down the length of his cock. “What did you make her beg for, Cheol?”

“To—to to-touch me.”

You hum. Tighten your grip on Seungcheol’s hand and laugh as his hips roll involuntarily, seeking the friction. “Touch you how? Like this?”

“Yeah—fuck, yes, like this.”

“Did she? Did she listen to you like a good girl?” Your hand leaves Seungcheol’s only to collect the precum at his tip. “Don’t get all shy now, Cheolie.” You suck your thumb into your mouth and he whines. “Was she a good girl for you?”

You sit back on your haunches. Watch him jerk himself off. “Yeah,” he finally says, word cracking in the middle. “Boring, though. Not like—not like you.”

“No one is like me,” you admonish. “I could’ve told you that for free, before you went off and fucked someone else.”

“Not an idiot,” Seungcheol replies, the pace of his hand quickening. He’s playing a dangerous game; approaching the cliff edge at a dangerous pace. “No-nothing comes for free with you.”

All you do is smile, lopsided and smug. “Mm, that’s true. Guess your little dom moment earlier can just be chalked up to momentary stupidity, hm?” Seungcheol wants to nod, wants apologies to tumble from his lips until you shut him up, but his palm is so slick against his dick, fist tight enough to white out his vision. “Did you make her beg to suck your cock?”

Truth be told, Seungcheol can’t remember much of anything right now. He’s perilously close to coming, right at that precipice, and each filthy word that slips from your mouth just pushes him further to the edge. He remembers Chan inviting him to a party. He remembers a few drinks, a few hits from a blunt, compliments of Vernon; he remembers a girl making eyes at him from across the room—eyes that had looked a lot like yours in the haze of his crossfade. He remembers a locked bathroom and the sound of his voice as he told that girl how to touch him so it felt like you. He remembers her doing whatever he told her to, remembers how eager and submissive she was, how she didn’t mouth off to him the way you always do—

Remembers how unsatisfying it’d been when he came.

You’ve ruined him.

Not a revelation. Not even close to one. Seungcheol has known this for a long time, but that doesn’t mean annoyance doesn’t flare in his belly at the reminder. You don’t want him. Being so hung up on you isn’t doing him any favors, just means he’ll have a longer drop when this is all over. God, what the fuck is he doing?

He wants you so badly he’s aflame with it. He wants you so badly he can barely look at you anymore. He wants you so badly it consumes him, drives him insane, has him all fucked up and seething. He wants you, he wants you, he—

Loves.

Reality washes over him like a cold wave. Knocks him backwards, drowning, desperately trying to remember how to breathe. In, out; in, out—and none of it changes a goddamn thing.

Four years of this. Four years of touches exchanged in the dark, behind locked doors. Four years of yearning and trying and failing. Four years of everything getting lost in translation, because it’s hitting him now, but shouldn’t he have felt it before? Shouldn’t all those ‘drive me fuckin’ crazy, can’t fucking stand you’s he spoke into the crook of your neck rang hollow?

“Cheol—” you say, because you asked him something, tried to play along with this whole stupid charade, and he knows he’s frozen, just standing there, hand still wrapped around his cock, and he needs to say something, he needs to fix this—

“I’m a liar,” is what he comes up with. You’re still staring up at him, brows furrowed, pinched in the middle. Move, he wills himself, but nothing happens. “I’m a liar,” he says again, because if he says it enough you’ll believe it. “I’m sorry. I’m—”

“What are you talking about?”

He swallows. I’m in love with you, he wants to say. Feels the weight of the words on his tongue, heavy and pressing, and he thinks you should know. Even if you don’t feel the same, he thinks you deserve to know, but the way you’re looking at him—

He can’t bring himself to say it.

But he can—“Can I show you instead?”

Slowly, you nod. Seungcheol nods, too, still feeling off-kilter as he cradles your face in his hands, thumbs in the contours of your cheeks. Moves them down your neck, your shoulders, down the length of your arms. You meet him halfway, twining your fingers together, and he helps you stand, careful and considerate. At full height, he places a hand in the small of your back to tug you closer, kisses you like it’s the end of the world. Whines into your mouth at your familiar taste, and if he lets himself be delusional enough, he can pretend there’s form and substance to those sounds, that their edges are squared-off to form the words he wants to say.

Because it really might be the end of the world. Seungcheol has never known how to play the cards he’s been dealt when it comes to you. Always gets it wrong. Feints one way when he’s meant to go the other, takes the field with two left feet, always playing catch-up. Maybe the mistake was treating it like a game. Maybe the mistake was strategizing, only playing to win, because he lays you gently on his bed, fits his body in the space you create for him between your legs, and realizes he already won a long time ago.

He won the first time your eyes met. He won the first time he’d kissed you, more nerves and teeth than anything else. He won the first time you tucked yourself against his side and stared at his bedroom ceiling, half-smoked joint between your fingers, and made fun of the stupid flag he’d hung up. He won every time you took all the bullshit he threw at you and dished it right back. He won every time he had the privilege of tracing mindless shapes into your soft skin.

Every second of your time you chose to give him—all victories.

He presses in further. Groans when your hands move to his shoulders and grip tight; when your nails dig into the skin of his back. “I’ve been so stupid,” he says, punctuating his words with a nip at your ear. Smirks out of the corner of his mouth at your shuddering breath. “Haven’t I?”

“Yeah,” you answer, rolling your hips upward. He grabs at you desperately, tries to keep you still; hisses when you swat his hands away and redouble your efforts. “You’ve been a fucking asshole for a—for a while.”

You can’t see the way he pouts. Wonders, too, if that would work on you, if it’d earn him one of those rare moments of tenderness. “Well I’m trying to—shit, baby—trying to make it up to you, but you seem pretty determined to make me bust right now.”

He can see the way you roll your eyes. See the way the corners crinkle after as you laugh softly, breathlessly, still trying to chase a high Seungcheol refuses to provide. “You deserve it. You tried to dom me, you dickhead.”

Embarrassment sits obvious on his ruddy cheeks. He hides his face in the crook of your neck so you don’t see it, don’t have something to poke at him with later, but you’re having none of it. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug gently, forceful enough to have him pliable, and there it is: there are stars in your eyes as you stare up at him, tender and soft just like he hoped you’d look, and he misses the feeling of your nails on your scalp until you’re tugging at the delicate chain around his neck and pulling him closer. “Just kiss me and we’ll call it even.”

This is how it feels to get struck by lightning, he thinks. Every part of him is on fire, and he’s content to burn as his lips find yours. He sighs happily into your mouth, hikes your thigh higher around his middle, presses in to lay claim to what little space is left between you. Seungcheol is so close he can feel the rapid pace of your heartbeat, because this is not the way you usually kiss. What used to be dirty and quick, a means to an end, now has intent, purpose. He’s kissing you like he wants to steal the air from your lungs to replace it with something better.

Trails those same kisses down the length of your body. Open-mouthed at your neck, your collarbones, the space between your breasts. Teasing and slow in the space between each rib, just to watch the way your skin pebbles. Hungry and insistent at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, because if he’s feeling this unhinged, he wants you right there with him. Can’t bear the thought of still being in this alone. Not anymore.

“Legs over my shoulders.” You listen immediately, and Seungcheol mutters a quiet fuck at the sight before him. “God, you’re so wet.”

“No shit—”

He swats at your clit, delighting in the way your body jolts. “Hush. The only thing I wanna hear out of your smart mouth from now on is my fucking name.” And then he’s diving in.

He eats you out like a man starved; like he could do this every day for the rest of his life and he still wouldn’t be satisfied. Can’t help but rut against the mattress at the way you taste, the way your thighs tighten around his head, the sting as you pull at his hair. Places both hands beneath your ass to lift and drag you closer to his waiting mouth—licks at you wet and feverish, all of this seemingly more for him than it is for you, and you’ll get tired of it soon, just like you always do. You’ll tell him—

“Do it right, Cheol, please—”

And he’ll pull away and tsk, swat at you again. His responding laugh will be cocky and derisive when your body trembles again, frantic with the need for more. “What did I say, baby? Do you not trust me to make you come?” You cock an eyebrow, torn between throwing some sarcastic remark at him and following the rules long enough to get what you want. His voice grows serious as he presses a soft kiss to your core. “I will always take care of you.”

The rest is muscle memory.

The rest has a chorus of Cheol, Cheol, Seungcheol spilling from your lips as he suctions his own around your clit. The rest has you grinding your pussy against his face. The rest has him groaning at the way he’s so wholly consumed by you: the taste of you on his tongue, face soaked, two fingers pressed deep into your cunt. The rest has him saying that’s it, baby, come on my face, I know you can and feeling delirious when he finally pushes you over the edge; when your walls clench around his fingers, breathing fractured, when you grab at him until you’re eye-level and you’re licking into his mouth to taste yourself.

Tastes a lot like I love you.

“Want you to ride me,” he says, gaze half-lidded and pleading. You whine as he moves his thumb back to your clit, tracing slow, slow, slow circles, oversensitive. “Will you do that for me?”

The party seems so far away. Grows even further away when you nod and straddle his lap. Seungcheol sits up, tells you to wrap your legs around him. Can’t stand not touching you; needs every inch of his skin to be covered by you like a bruise—something deep that’ll last for days, weeks, months. The mottled colors will change, but it’ll still be there.

“Need you, Cheol,” you whisper, kissing his eyelids. He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes.

“You have me,” he answers, but it sounds foreign to his ears—sounds wretched, like the words have been punched out of him. It sounds like forfeit. “Always have.”

You pull back. Study his face. Run over his plush bottom lip with your thumb. It feels like an eternity of silence before you speak. “No, I haven’t,” you insist, tone insistent but delicate, like you’re trying to convince him of it, too. “Not like this.”

I love you.

You lift your hips just enough to sink down on his cock. Seungcheol’s moan is loud and unabashed, not afraid to let anyone hear the way you make him feel. All he can think is familiar: he knows your blinding white heat; has made countless homes in your tight grip he still holds the keys to; has done this so many goddamn times it’s second nature.

He was an absolute fool to think he could ever walk away.

You roll your hips, taking him deeper like you’ve got something to prove, body moving on its own sinuous accord. Seungcheol loves you like this, when you know exactly what you want and aren’t afraid to take it. When you press sloppy kisses to his neck, the column of his throat. When he grabs at your hips, tries to move you faster along the length of his cock, and you swat his hands away. When your rhythmic up-and-down turns into a slow grind that has you gasping and breathless, pussy spasming around him.

“Goddamn, I love this pussy,” he chokes out, fingers gripping tightly at the sheets since he can’t touch you. He’s mindless with pleasure, feels himself start babbling nonsense he can’t make sense of, and it’s overwhelming, having you like this. Isn’t sure how he’s survived this long, but maybe you were right.

Maybe it was never like this before.

Usually he’d take you from behind, quick and dirty, hands digging into the meat of your ass, palm cracking down on it every now and then, imparting white heat of his own. Usually he’d have you beneath him, knees pressed to your chest, all condescension as you told him, eyes rolled back, that he was too deep, that you couldn’t take it, and he’d rub at your clit and tell you you could as he dragged another orgasm out of you. Usually he’d be so frenzied and worked up he’d take you against the door, sweats pushed to mid-thigh, forearms straining as they held you up.

So, yeah—this is different. This is a patient, sensual dance to the finish line. This is Seungcheol in his rawest form: a live wire, vulnerable, anxious. This is the unknown, because something has to come after but he doesn’t know what it is.

This is Seungcheol throwing caution to the wind, leaning in close enough to taste the salt on your skin, and saying, “I love you.”

This is Seungcheol planting his feet and fucking up into you, unwilling to hear your response. Sometimes ignorance is bliss, but sometimes bliss is just bliss, and he’ll willingly take either.

This is you coming undone on his cock, breathing rapid and ragged, pupils blown wide as you stare at him in awe.

“Say it again.”

Someone slams into the wall just outside Seungcheol’s door, and all at once the real world creeps back in: the thrumming bass line of the music downstairs; laughter, shouting, and yelling; fists banging on shut doors—but he hears you loud and clear. Presses each word into your mouth this time and groans when you swallow them. Barely makes a sound as he spills inside of you, feeling like every nerve in his body is aflame.

The two of you are quiet for a time as you try to catch your breath. Seungcheol only moves to grab his duvet and wrap it around your shoulders, smiling fondly at the small thank you you mumble, seemingly still bogged down, well-fucked.

He presses a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Okay?”

You nod, push at him until he lays back and pulls you with him, lets you use his firm chest as a pillow. That flag you’d made fun of before isn’t up there anymore, but Seungcheol feels warm at the memory anyway, almost laughs at the comment he imagines you’d make.

Clears his throat. Tries to find his courage. “I really am sorry,” he tells you again, because it doesn’t matter if he loves you if he doesn’t know how to be good at it.

“I know, Cheol,” comes your easy reply. You’re tracing shapes on his stomach that have his muscles contracting. “I know you love me, too.” You sigh, press your lips to his rib cage. “Who knew it’d only take making out with Mingyu to get you to admit it.”

A wild laugh tumbles out of him. “Fuck off.” He can feel your grin.

“You got a fucked up way of showing it, though.”

He hums, holds onto you a little tighter. “Go easy on me, I only figured it out about an hour ago.”

“An hour?” you faux-gasp, make like you’re about to leave. “I’m outta here. I know my worth. If I’m going to say it back to someone, they need to be in love with me for at least two.”

He chokes at the implication, heart threatening to beat right out of his chest and into yours. He knows he looks exactly like the moonstruck, loved-up loser he is, and he coughs to cover it. “That’s what I said,” he lies. “Two hours. You must’ve heard it wrong.”

No, it was never like this.

#seungcheol x reader #seungcheol smut #scoups x reader #scoups smut #seungcheol imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #seungcheol fanfic #scoups fanfic #jewel writes #fic: wntt

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prettyboykatsuki · 6 months ago

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chewtoy | s. gojo

✮ tags ; dead dove: do not eat, noncon, humiliation, abuse of power / power imbalance, master / servant relationship, titles like master satoru, he's being Really Fucking Weird (sniffs u a bunch...rip), oral(f!receiving) 18+

✮ wc ; 2k (????)

✮ a/n ; horrible horrible man. can he leave me alone. extension of this

"The young Master is calling for you."

You try not to flinch. Aiko gives you a warm, summery smile and a soft nudge to your side. You can only assume this means you've succeeded and she doesn't sense your disgust.

"He's so fond of you," She ends her sentence with a wispy sigh. "Must be nice to have a rich, powerful man fawn over you a bit, right?"

You remain indifferent. She smiles again. You think she is infinitely more beautiful than you. Soft, bouncy hair and smooth skin. Her naive nature makes her shine brighter than one thousand suns. It'd be nice if the young Master showed interest in someone like her.

You put the dream to rest quickly.

"You shouldn't keep him waiting," She hums. It's so innocent. "Go on, don't let me keep you."

You don't tell her you wish she would keep you. She is also right that you should not keep him waiting. If he's summoned you to his chambers deliberately, that means he is already feeling impatient. Master Satoru never seeks you out unless he is in some kind of mood.

He's had this habit since childhood. You've never made him aware of it, and you don't plan too. One of the few things you help you know what to expect from him.

You nod her along, tell her to finish up work in the living quarters to which she agrees merrily. Her spirits are lifted by the prospect of the young Master showing you fondness. Some part of you wishes you could share in her joy.

A pit of dread makes your steps heavy, but your footfall is light and beautiful. You are poised and cool as you walk along the dark, dreary hallways that lead to the Master's office.

A door swallowed in shadow, a single light shining on the golden plaque with the young Master's full name. You knock twice, announcing yourself.

"You're here," He says. You try not to flinch. You're certain you do not succeed. You are thankful he cannot see you - or you hope he can't. "Come in,"

You open the door and step inside to his office - shutting the door behind you. Muscle memory guides you to your curtsy. You bow politely.

"Yes, Master?"

"So stuffy," His voice makes your chest feel tight with discomfort. Frustration ebbs underneath it, cuts like a jagged edged knife. "At least call me, Satoru. Our relationship is much better than that, I thought."

"I could never be so informal to the young Master," You say, and then concede. "But I will call you Master Satoru, if you wish."

"How obstinate," He drawls. You do not life your head to see the face he makes. You already know what it looks like. It's burned into your mind. "But I suppose I'll make do. Lift your head."

You lift your head, but do not look at his face.

"Come closer,"

You step towards him, your lungs pushing air out of you manually. Remembering to breathe evenly is a herculean task. He beckons you closer until you're within distance of his touch.

He glances at you. "Look at me."

You try not to hesitate and force your eyes forward. His eyes undress you. Pointed gaze falls along your features, outlines your every inch, and analyzes your face. You remain even. He hums.

His frivolity is missing. This is suddenly more frightening. His mood is worse than you thought.

"Lift your skirt,"

Your muscles tense as you try not to shake. You succeed. He lets out a soft breath before he drops down onto his knees. You do not let yourself make any sort of expression, averting your gaze. He stares long and hard at your clothed pussy.

You tremble. He assess you silently, eyes flitting up.

"Sit in my chair with your skirt over your waist. So I can see you properly and all."

You listen to his instructions mindlessly. The velvet of his chair and warmth of his remaining body heat touch your bare ass and thighs. Satoru turns to you, still on knees. His hand wraps around your ankles and slips your shoes off of you.

You close your eyes. Sudden intimacy makes you slink back.

"Look at me."

It is is a command. You let your gaze fall on him again and watch on in excruciating nausea. Your stomach twists violently at the fragility of it all. Slender fingers hook into your knee socks and pull them down along your calve until they're off. His gaze catches yours. He does not smile at you. His hand comes around your ankle again and lifts your leg closer to his face. His nose presses against the bend of your foot.

He inhales. You try not to react but you can feel your eyes go wide. Feel your muscles clench, your heart sinking. Iron fills your mouth.

He lets his nose nudge up against the top of your calf.

"Young Master,"

He stares at you. Irritation flits through his gaze. There's no getting out of this, no mercy. You slink back again. He does smile that time.

Your body prickles with unwanted heat at the sensation. He licks along your legs, biting the supple skin - huffing the scent of your sweat every time he goes along. His teeth sink perversely into your flesh, sucking until there's throbbing, marks against your calves. The color of an orchid, purple and red. Fear strikes in you like a match. His grip on your ankles moves to the back of your calves and squeezes tight. He repeats the process on both calves intently.

There's claim to this. You know this part of him. He is claiming you with vicious confidence. Something with deeper magnitude then lust. For you, he is desire and ownership and want incarnat. A testament of his own beliefs. You willfully do no make noise aside from a gasp or breath.

You don't know how long it takes until he's satisfied with the state both legs.

He moves up. Bites the soft flesh of your thigh. You nearly spit out another useless plea. Shamelessness makes up his every move. His tongue slides over every single inch of your bare skin until his noses brushes along your cunt.

He doesn't lick you there. Not right away. Again he sniffs, breathes you in deep and uncomfortable. It's violating in all senses of the word, his grip tightening on your thighs as he huffs your scent. You haven't bathed. You've practically been running around since morning, but he doesn't let up and breathes you in anyway.

You squirm at that point. Your face contorts so slightly and he's watching you for it. His face finally cracks a smile and abject dread makes your spine lock up.

"Mm," He emphasizes the sound. It's so loud in such a quiet room. "That's it."

You don't have the strength to say anything.

It's frighteningly abrupt and rough, the feeling of his mouth along your pussy. He sucks at your clit from outside the fabric and you gasp - suddenly helpless. It's not the first time, of course not. But it's never this... random. Never this rough.

Your back arches at the sudden motion, face breaking - and Satoru grips you tighter and forces you back into the chair. Forces his tongue against your clit and sucks hard through the cotton material. Your body betrays you in its reaction - nipples pebbling underneath your clothes. Nearly screaming from the sensitivity. Your lower body is all ache - hickeys and bruises and bite marks making you throb perpetually. Too much, too much, too much.

Shame floods your system as the first spike of arousal forces itself from you - your cunt floods, gushing with a sudden spike of want from rough treatment. The sound of him sucking you so hard and drenching it with his saliva echoes across the room. You're sure it's traveling into the hall.

"Master Satoru," Your voice is even but it cracks on his name. Tears form at the corners of your eyes - fear and shame mixing into desperation. "Satoru,"

He hums into your pussy and you shake. "What is it? What wish would you like your master to fulfill for you.

"Please," Your voice is hoarse. Bone-deep exhaustion is out done by adrenaline. "Not through the fabric, please. It's dirty."

He sucks again and you keen - nails digging into your palms as you throw your head back.

"Your Masters spit soaking your panties is dirty? How rude." He teases. The whimper leaves your mouth without permission. You wish this would end soon but even amidst your fog you know that is not more than a pipe dream.

He takes them off. Rolls them down your thighs all wet and drops them. You let out a sigh of relief before his nose bridges touches your clit again. Swallowing the sound, you look away.

"It's soaked," He says conversationally, "Your needy little cunt is making a mess of your Master's chair. Tsk, tsk - so shameful."

"I'm sorry," You croak, unsure of what else to say. "I'll clean it."

He laughs, seemingly alleviated from his prior upset at the state of your humiliation.

"I'm sure you'll do an excellent job," He rests his hand over the mound of your sex - using pointer and thumb to spread your lips apart and get view of your swollen little clit. He breathes on it. "But you're still begging me for my attention down here. Filthy pussy for such a meticulous maid. Do you know how wet you are? Did you miss me so much?"

You don't answer him. He goes on.

"I thought of you all week," His voice is soft. Tinged with affection, or something like it. "Ahh, dealing with higher ups is such a pain."

You stare at him. He looks back at you with a smile. You flinch. You flinch certainly. "But I can always take it out on you, can't I? This perfect, filthy, needy cunt. It'll only every belong to me and I get to use it to my hearts content. I thought of that suddenly then called you."

It's not just your cunt he's interested in. That'd be relieving if that were the case. If he only ever used you to vent his sexual frustrations, treat you like a personal cocksleeve. You think it might be better that way.

He's too fond of you for that.

The young Master treats you like a chew toy instead. He bites, licks, slobbers, and misuses you. He might hump you to chase his high from time to time, might throw you around for rough sex should the mood suit him. But he's not a clueless oaf, some classless barbarian who only feels pleasure from his cock.

His violation is something else. It's deeper in scent, richer in taste. It is born from his greatness.

He's smart enough to know exploitation and that's what gets him off most. He exploits you. Exploits your reactive body, exploits your stoicism, exploits your dedication to your duty. You're his chew toy because you are designed to be unbreakable. You are indestructible.

But you have the perfect amount of give. You flinch, sigh, and whimper enough to make your Master thrilled. You squeak and moan like you're heat addled when he plays with you enough.

To Satoru, you're the most perfect thing to ever grace his life. His favorite toy that he's bitten at since he was just a boy and grew so fond of.

No matter how much you end up in tatters, Satoru can't help but love you with all of his heart.

You get exhausted being thrown around. But you can't go anywhere, either. He's so watchful of you. He might go crazy and bite if you were to disappear.

"Cum for me," He says, sucking on your clit much more softly. He's gentle but exact. Knows the ins and outs of your body enough to send you racing towards the edge with an unimaginable speed. You gasp and shudder, holding onto his chair for your life as an orgasm shoots through like lightning through a telephone wire.

You cum. You cum hard, bruised and mind-broken and nauseous and you cum so hard something spurts out of you and makes the chair wet. The young Master is nonplussed of course, and laps it up like a dog drinking water.

"Ahh, much better." He's pleased as he stands up and then bends down to your height. His hand cradles the back of your neck with a pleasant sigh as he forces a cum-soaked kiss onto your mouth. "Just as I thought, you were just what I needed."

Utterly defeated, you pull away with a gasp. "...I'm happy to serve you, Master Satoru."

"Such a nice sentence from your mouth, true or not." He gives you one more kiss, to the crown of your head. Too tender, too raw. "Prepare yourself to service me a bit more, then."

#noncon cw #dark content cw #writing tag #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #my god....\

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inmaki · 7 months ago

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gojo making fun of your other fwb

( smut, a little smthn while i work on my nanami fic <3 ) .

"just put it in, for fucks sake."

gojo chuckles, running his mushroom-shaped tip up and down your folds. every time he reaches your hole, he pushes his cock in just enough to breach your entrance, before pulling out and continuing his ministrations. like a fucking idiot.

"aw, y’want my dick that bad? 'need me to fill you up?" what about matsukawa?"

your expression sours, sending him an annoyed look. this was by far the first time he’s brought up his displeasure for your other friend, especially in bed.

“are you trying to make me dry?" you bark, trying to close your legs - which he immediately stops with a large hand. "if you wanna fuck, stop talking about him and hurry."

gojo rolls his eyes, despising the way you're practically defending the fucker. sure, he's just a friend too - but you were clearly his; you've always been addicted his lips against yours, his hands on your body, his cock against your cervix. now this other shithead thinks he can come and take that away?

he doesn't know how to handle it besides-

"is this how he fucks you?" suddenly, he forces only an inch or two inside you, barely thrusting in and out with a mischievous smile. a hum leaves his lips as your insides squeeze him firmly, but he's stubborn enough to hold back the urge to fill you up properly. "probably can’t reach anything, i bet even my fingers are bigger."

the audacity and immaturity of the man in front of you has you baffled. here you are, ready to be fucked into the mattress by him - and all he can do is joke about some other guy's dick length? you desperately want to scold him, tell him to fuck off - but as expected - the feeling of his fat cock not reaching where you need has your mind going blank in desperation.

"please.. just fuck me, toru."

he smirks, and without giving you any time to adjust, he's mercilessly slamming in the rest of his length so the tip presses right up against your womb. his balls smack against you from below, and you shiver at the feeling of his white pubic hair grazing your pelvis. "so i'm right? hah, what a fuckin' loser. 'course he has a small dick."

you're too busy catching your breath to hear him, and gojo smoothly takes that opportunity to throw your legs over his shoulders and press them against your chest, ensuring his cock hits your g-spot at the perfect angle. just how you like it.

the white-haired bastard can't help but smile, licking his lips at your rolled back eyes and the harmonious ah, ah, ah's that escape your throat with each brutal slam of his hips. "becoming my brainless cocksleeve as usual, so damn cute. only i can rearrange these guts, right?" he demands, bending you even further while getting right in your face.

"say it. say who owns this sloppy," thrust, "fucking," thrust, "pussy," thrust.

“you, only you!” the words tumble out of you before you can stop them.

“who?” he grinds right against your cervix, nearly pressing the tip of his nose against yours.

“sa- satoru!”

he rewards you by lowering a thumb to play with your clit, cerulean eyes staring into your very soul. “damn right. scream it louder.”

suddenly, a quiet ding! comes from your bedside table. gojo glances down to your blissed-out face, cautiously peering over to see a message from none other than the man of of the hour.

matsu: wyd? can i come over?

gojo smiles. typing in a response with one hand while the other keeps your thigh firmly against your chest.

you: yea, be quick daddy ;)

you would definitely kill him after this.

( reblogs & comments r appreciated if u enjoy! had this idea at 2am sorry if it’s bad <\3)

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rowarn · 1 year ago

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wait hear me out…giving simon/konig head while they’re driving

OMG

deepthroating, face fucking tbh, mean!simon but not mean hehe

simon would get so mean about it <3 u wanna suck his cock that badly while he's driving? u really can't wait the 15 mins until you're home? really? u need it that bad?

then he's gonna let u do it but it's gonna be a punishment for your throat. holds your head down, forcing your throat to swallow him whole while he's driving, making you just sit there warming his cock </3

and then at the red lights oh he fucks your throat. you're drooling all over him and it's soaking his jeans but he doesn't care. there are tears rolling down your cheeks and you're whining as he forces you to take every. single. inch.

when he finally gets to park the car, he won't even let u get out. he makes u finish what u started. but he has more freedom now that the cars not in motion so he uses his hips to thrust into your mouth, fucking your throat like he does your cunt ):

lifting his hips in his seat, gripping your hair and tossing his head back against the seat rest and moaning. and the tiny space makes him sound so loud and fucked out. its not often he gets to fuck your throat like this — much prefers to just let u lick and suck him at your own pace but this is a punishment because you just had to be greedy while he was driving.

and when he finally cums down your throat, he makes sure it's deep. you have no choice but to swallow around him, the constriction of your throat around his twitching cock works him through his orgasm while he moans and his thighs tremble <3

and then he's slumping in his seat and letting you go, panting and still twitching as his cock softens in the open air, your spit and drool drying on him.

and then he reaches over and sweetly thumbs the tears under your eyes away — as if he didn't just pummel your throat to shreds </////3

"that's a good little love," he coos, leaning down to kiss your swollen lips, "maybe next time you'll wait until we get home, yeah?"

#simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost smut #ghost x reader #cod smut #cod x reader

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hypnagogics · 26 days ago

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haiii pludawg… 😇

i’m thinking about sloppy and wet ab riding with sub!sevika, pinning her to the bed with your thighs and riding her into the mattress, she’d get so flustered as you overpower her and she’d just gawk at you like the cutie pie she is while you leave a sticky trail all over her abs… continue this however u want 🤎

thanks a million!!! 😋

☆: hey chat, have something new hehe. sev has been turning me into a MONSTER lately and i had to get this outta my system. ok enna this idea. i have no words. this is the most scrumdiddlyumptious thing ive literally ever heard im gonna start freaking the fart out are u fr...omg. wow...i love u sm for this💚AHHHH I NEED HER.

you gazed down at sevika from your spot, lovingly straddling her torso, intently watching every microscopic change in her features. she helplessly stared up at you, eyes as gray as the goddess athena's, round and teary, near overflowing with pure, unadulterated need.

you wanted her just as much, if not more, only you were better at acting, so you didn't let her sense it and take the chance to rip this moment away from you. you knew her, and she'd give her all to try.

your hot, naked bodies pressed together, it had been eons of simple messing around— neither had their sweet release just yet.

you were planning on making this exhilarating for you, while being torturous for the woman underneath you.

her eyes flickered up and down your bare form, eying every curve and valley hungrily, she took in every little detail before bringing her eyes back up to meet yours. “you plan on doing anything? sometime tonight, preferably.” she huffed in exasperation, her low voice gravelly, yet there's the unmistakable trembling only someone who'd give anything to cum possesses. “oh? i'm fine doing this all night, actually. don't rush me.” stern, but sweet, the sound of your voice makes her break eye contact bashfully. you aren't able to stop the smirk that stretches across your lips, and you tighten your grip on her arms—both flesh and mechanical—on either side of her head. sevika's dark hair is disheveled, sprawled across the pale pillow, her toffee skin gleaming with sweat, she looked ethereal. every move you make is slow, calculated, enticing. designed to drive her insane, make her whine and clench around nothing but air—and she does exactly that when she feels your dripping folds make contact with her quivering abs. she squirms below you, taking her bottom lip between her teeth, and closing her eyes as tight as she can, inhaling sharply.

you hadn't even started moving yet, but the wetness, the slick sound, the warmth of you on her skin was driving her over the edge. if so much as a gust of wind kissed her pussy, she'd be crying out and gushing all over the place. unfortunately you were indoors, so she'd have to suffer a little longer.

on your end, the contact is so good. you rock your hips back and forth on her just once, experimentally, but right away the pleasure pools in your abdomen, and you start rutting against her, chasing the mind-numbing feeling.

and sevika? she can't do anything but just gawk at you, observe how you throw your head back in ecstasy, your pretty moans filling the room, along with the obscene slapping sounds of skin against skin. you transition to a circular motion, gyrating your hips against her taut abdomen, soaking every square inch of her, including her happy trail. can't forget that, can we.

at this point, she can barely keep her eyes open, poor thing, so mesmerized by you in all your glory, grinding your hard clit selfishly against her like this, it was almost enough to make her finish just like that. within a fraction of a second.

“b-baby—ah”, words are failing her, her voice high pitched and shaky. her hands find their way to your hips, and she assists you in your mission, the sensation of the cold metal of her mechanical arm sending shocks up your spine.

words have failed you as well, nothing but grunts and whimpers resembling sevika's name falling from your lips. your ruts speed up, no longer following any rhyme or reason, all you can think about is getting to that peak. you're so absorbed in how her muscles feel against your pussy, you are almost brought to the point of forgetting where you were.

rhythmic “ah, hah, ah, ah—” following every thrust, the intensity of the impending orgasm swirling inside you, and she can't help but moan with you, the ache in her drooling core growing more uncomfortable by the moment.

with a cry you're hit with blinding pleasure, all your senses cutting out. you hump against her some more, riding out the high as much as you could before the throes of overstimulation took their hold, and your body was enveloped with waves of relaxation.

you come to, and look down, your eyes meeting those of sev’s, her mouth slightly open, arms limp by her sides, chest heaving up and down as she—and you—register what happened. you climb off of her and fall in an embrace, burying your face in the crook of her neck. the heat of embarrassment and realization spreads throughout the surface of the skin, only you're brought out of it by sevika's sugary voice. she sounds dazed, high as a kite, speaking slowly, “that…was so hot. you're so hot. my turn?”

because this is my first fic for sev, im not gonna tag people but i will add her as an option and put my taglist here anyway ♡

#pluto + their pen ☆#requests! ♡#sevika arcane #sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika x y/n #sevika smut #sevika arcane smut #sevika imagine #sevika x reader smut #sevika x female reader #arcane smut #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #arcane x female reader #sub!sevika #sevika fanfic

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bywons · 5 months ago

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✢ ⠀ CRAWLING BACK TO YOU — PJS

━━━ ❛ 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗃𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗌𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄

( 𝖠𝖱𝖳 𝓓𝖤𝖢𝖮 ) 𝗉𝗃𝗌 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𖥔 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝖾𝗑𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌 ` ィ 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾? 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗒 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗁𝗈𝗅 1334 𝑤𝖼 && CATALOUGE

✦ PLS REBLOG if u enjoyed !! | click me 𝑖𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗈

“glad to kn-know i'm still relevant in your world,” jay pushes the door aside, stumbling to the side of your apartment door. back pressed against it with his head held high, he shoots you a smug smirk as he's almost about to slide down. “i knew you miss me, darling.”

he's drunk, it's clear as day. you don't miss out the little silver flask almost falling off from his hand and how he reeks of alcohol, who knows how many drinks he had this night. you don't even remember why you called him in the first place, it's 3 in the morning— both too early and late and scandalous to call a person, especially when it's your ex. especially when it's a drunk park jongseong.

“jay,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair, “what are you doing here?”

he chuckles, his laugh a mix of genuine amusement and intoxicated sloppiness. “you called, so here i am,” he says, attempting to stand up straighter but failing miserably. “couldn't leave you hanging, could i?"

you groan internally, cursing your impulsive decision. “fuck me,” you mutter. “come in before you wake up the whole building.” you literally drag him into your apartment before shutting the door close. jay collapses on the couch, a faint smirk still directed at you.

did you call him? everything in the past hour has been so obscure that you didn't even notice the dry tears on your cheeks until now, when a cool breeze caresses it, leaving an odd stretchy feeling against your dry skin. maybe it's a few glasses of wine, or a drunk call? maybe you called him to deal with the cockroach in your room which you know you can deal with yourself. or maybe it's the overwhelming loneliness that's been gnawing at you lately. regardless, calling jay at 3 in the morning wasn't your smartest move.

“now, why'd you call me?,” ah of course, now he will want to talk about your break up. he can barely make sentences, words overlapping each other in a somewhat coherent sentence, “3 am is definitely your timing.”

and the best way to ignore a drunk talking park jongseong? offer him water to sober down, because heck you can't understand anything. neither him nor this situation.

grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen, you hand it to him, watching as he struggles to sit up and open it before finally taking a sip.

“why did you call me?" he asks, voice softer now. the redness of his eyes and the bravado in his voice fading. he looks up at you, only a hands’ distance away from where he's sitting.

“i need you to ah—,” shit. eye contact with park jongseong still has the same effect on you, “help me move some furniture. you know, crazy landlady.” you let out a chortle.

“moving furniture? at 3 am?,” jay narrows his eyes, gaze piercing through you, it's obvious he doesn't believe you, “do i seriously have the word dumb tattooed across my face?”

jay doesn't move an inch from his place, eyes lying still on yours, an unspoken connection that's been missed by you both, a connection so palpable and mellow that it's still a residue in this messed up relationship. you realise how much you miss his eyes— he moves your heart by them and he's still. you wish you could kiss him right now, does he want that too? after all, why wouldn't he want that? no man is willing to stumble to their ex's apartment at 3 in the morning in a drunken state. that too after just one call which could've been an accident? jay definitely wants you back.

“no, no at all jay, i'm really—”

“you were with heeseung last week,” jay doesn't let you finish explaining yourself— before he gives you another mishap to explain. his eyes narrow down even more, he catches his lips between his teeth, “...i didn't like that.”

“you should've closed your eyes and walked out of the bar then, jay,” you snap. it's quite insufferable for park jongseong to be furious over the consequences of his actions. you had to return home late at night, and with no car how could you? you don't trust cabs at that hour, but you do still trust your ex. and when even the last option opts out himself you're left with something out of syllabus— his best friend. you have to go home! “don't start with that.”

“fair, want me to start with fixing ’seung?,” jay's words are colder than the flask he's carrying.

“jay you better not—”

“oh i won't,” jay scoffs, evident jealousy laced in his voice, “i have better things to do.”

it's only a split second, and you don't know when or how you end up under him on the sofa, his hand softly clasping around your wrist and the other encircling your waist. jay entangles his legs with yours, an impossible knot to get out of. there's still a drunken reflection in his eyes as he pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, hand caressing your cheeks. his eyes stunt yours, you're suddenly unable to speak as you feel his lips press down yours. they sloppily trace down to your cheeks to your jaws and neck. jay giggles in between, probably at your sudden silence, and the way he feels your hands pull his collar closer to you.

that's the most basic method to try and get back your ex. but you don't find yourself stopping him.

“so, this is the better thing?,” you scoff when you look up at him, jay leaves a final kiss on the crook of your neck before he hovers over you again.

his silver chain dangles from his neck, the coldness of it caressing the bridge of your nose, sending an electric wave down your spine. pairing up with his smug eyes and lazy grin is the deadliest combo ever, it's not good for you at all. should you really get back with him? kiss this better with him?

“the best thing,” jay whispers, “don't know why heeseung even tries,” he rolls his eyes, “you're mine, he should use his eyes.”

“am i really yours?,” you sigh, your hold on his black shirt's collars loosening as your eyes become glossy at the thought of something disturbing, “i saw you…with someone else too.” it felt weird somewhere to feel betrayed when you see some random girl clinging to your ex, even though you know jay probably brushed her off later but you didn't wait to see the scene.

“oh no no, love,” you expected jay to panic and chant ‘it was a mistake’, but you're glad he didn't live up to this expectation. he's confident about what he says, as he moves lower and closer to your face, tracing the bridge of your nose to your jaws, “i'm too busy being yours, there's no someone else.”

“aren't you being a little cheesy?,” a tiny smile hangs on your lips, threatening to turn into a laugh, as you play with his collars.

“can't even tell the truth now?,” it's his turn to grin, he takes your hand in his and places a soft kiss.

you can't help but let out a soft giggle at his words. it's only been a month since you two broke off, but jay still finds his way back to you, like you do too. at this moment jay's world is silent. this is the moment he's been waiting for. sober, with you, kissing you all over with a hope of a new starting. you are his vibrance, he can't afford to lose it.

“i could do anything for you. sorry i failed to make this clear earlier,” his smug expression is back on again.

“anything to come back to me?”

“anything i would die for you, fight for you,” jay confirms, and just like that his lips are back on yours again, “do you want me crawling back to you?”

a/n — uuuhh can u guess this was kinda a hurried writing TT i'm not really satisfied with this but I hope u enjoyed it ^^ pleek lmk ^^

📌 :: TAGLIST IS OPEN! nets. @.k-labels @enchive tags ⭒ @leaderwon @dimplewonie @wonfilms @heartswonn @jwonistic @aaa-sia @ashtxrie @kgneptun @flwrstqr @haechansbbg @river-demon-slayer @in-somnias-world @teddywonss @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @mylstserenade @branchrkive @aishigrey @nctislifue @greyminyoon1 @ro-diaries @rikibun @sleepyxxhead @belovedsthings @moond1or @oddracha @shinrjj @nishislcve @luvlyhee @laylasbunbunny @junislqve @jlheon @hyeinism @jakesangel @okwonyo ⭒

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asocialangel · 25 days ago

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how MHA lovers like to kiss you

pt. 2 of how they like to kiss uuuu ( ˘ ³˘) 💕

2nd and last part of how i think the bnha lovers would kiss you~ gender neutral and fluffay

includes: monoma, shinsou, sero, denki, iida, hawks, dabi and toga.

monoma loves sending you air kisses. First of all because they are practical, he doesn't even need to move, he sees you across the room and gets to tell you he loves you. But also because they are so fun ! He loves to remind you he loves you in a light-hearted way. Usual gestures can quickly feel too formal, but air kisses keep it cheeky. Idk, to me, it’s just so fitting ! Obvi he will kiss you for real often tho.

Sero: spider man kiss. Hello ? corny but accurate let's be real ! I feel like since he is a fan of spider man, he prolly knows about it already and really wanted to try it out. It was so fun ! So now you get to do it but only organically, if you happen to catch him in that position, after a joint rescue mission for exemple. It’s rather rare so it makes these kisses feel even more special.

hawks go-to kisses are french kisses. Pretty committed isn't it ? He just can't get enough of you and of the sensation. He is a pretty good kisser you can admit, but you’ve put it together: if he kisses you so much, it means you are a great kisser too ! ha-ah ! Anyway, your boyfriend will always make the time to kiss you with tongue, no matter when or where, even if the cameras are watching. Most of the time you’re the one to let go too cause he could breathe you in all day, forgetting he has actual responsibilities !

iida kisses your whole body. If you put it metaphorically, it's to show you he loves you from a to z. He never thought about it that way though, his silly mind just loves to shower every inch of you with love. It’s kinda surprising and fun to guess where he will kiss you next. Your pinkie ? Your knee ? Your braided hair ?? It’s super cute and pure.

Shinsou loves a chest kiss. He isn't big on PDA, but when he is physical with you behind closed doors, he's devoted to you. He loves to randomly kiss your chest at any given moment. Casual talk about what's for dinner ? He will lean in and kiss you through your hoodie and continue talking like nun happened. Cuddling together ? He will kiss you thousands of times on your chest, like a snuggling cat. Something about your chest feels warm and fuzzy.

Denki loves classic lip kisses. Goodbye ? Steal a quick kiss from your soft lips. Good morning ? A long but superficial kiss of your warm lips. Something about it is almost innocent to him. Sometimes he'll put his tongue in, yes, he is a freak at heart after all, but for casual instances, he’d rather give you a teasy lip kiss while looking you in the eyes.

Dabi is an ear kisser. yes yes. He will nibble a bit sometimes, whisper to you something before or after kissing your ears, breath in and caress you with wind. He knows you are very sensitive there, and he loves feeling his cheek against yours. Also when he kisses you it’s cold, just wanted to add that >u<.

Toga will almost exclusively hickey kiss you. She loooves the feeling of latching onto you, and leaving her mark. Kinda telling the whole word: yup, mine ! I did that ! don't get too close i'll be there ! Because her little fangs make her hickeys very recognisable too. She loves to leave her hickeys everywhere on you, but she has a preference for your neck. She can’t hold back that cuteness aggression when she sees your face !

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zaephix · 2 months ago

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XOXO, kiss me, dont say no! / / genshin and star rail men . . .

the various ways they kiss you throughout your relationship <3

warnings: fluff, slightly suggestive in general but rlly suggestive on the last one lolz

w/c: .774k

author's note: this is lazy ash sorry but ive been so unmotivated recently its crazy also super random but dont let my blog theme deceive u my fav colors r pink and orange im js too lazy to change it LMAO

he opts for more chaste kisses, kisses that are shared between the two of you in passing. forehead kisses that happen between the two of you as he brings you your coffee for the day, kisses on the cheek as he has one hand on your waist to get past you, kisses on the corner of your lips to get that one crumb off of them. they leave you excited and almost pining for the next one. he is a busy man, sure, but he'd never not make time for affection between the two of you.

diluc, ayato, alhaitham, neuvilette, thoma, kaeya, baizhu, chongyun, sunday, dr. ratio, luocha, gepard, blade, aventurine . . .

he gives you a kiss every chance he gets. on your cheek, forehead, nose, neck, and even your chin at times. he's so quick about it, always finding the most obscure places to place his lips. you can't help but reciprocate it, turning it into a game on how many you can give eachother without it being in the same place. it was only when you gave him a quick peck on the lips did he finally click in his head that he could've kissed you there all along. "oh."

venti, itto, childe, heizou, lyney, gaming, razor, kaveh, cyno, sampo, luka, jing yuan, yanqing . . .

he is a gentleman first and foremost. he checks with you by the slightest glance between the two of you before leaning down to press his lips against yours. kisses to the back of your hand, the crown of your head, the veins on your wrist... the list goes on and on. it was to the point where the simplest graze of his fingers on your skin as he fixes your clothes felt intimate. and to be honest it makes you almost fall in love with him again, your perfect gentleman.

zhongli, diluc, neuvilette, thoma, wriothesley, kazuha, ayato, welt, gepard, gallagher, luocha, argenti, dan heng . . .

he is rather the opposite, he is a tease before everything. it seems like you can never have your way with him. his lips would just barely brush with yours, his eyes looking at you with a too-proud smirk. he'd either be insanely quick or painfully slow, no in between. he knew what he was doing, and god was it driving you mad. it was just when you started giving him his own medicine did he understand how you felt, and by the end of the week he was putty in your arms, begging for more.

kaeya, childe, cyno, kaveh, venti, xingqiu, lyney, wriothesley, jiaoqiu, sampo, boothill, aventurine, dan feng, gallagher. . .

his favorite kisses are lazy kisses. kisses that require no minimum amount of effort but still leave you satisfied. he says he just prefers to take his time with you, but all that really means is that he just wants to put his lips on you wherever he can. slow drags of his mouth tickle your skin, his face buried in your neck. he especially loves it when you caress his lips with your fingers before leaning in to kiss him, the soft matress beneath you dipping as you whisper into his ears before sleep takes you both, "g'night."

alhaitham, kazuha, kaeya, scaramouche, aether, jing yuan, dr ratio, blade, welt, boothill, aventurine . . .

kisses with him somehow always feel nervous. like he's inching towards you before (awkwardly) looking away to anywhere but your face. you made him feel like a boy with his first crush, ears slightly red at the possibility of a kiss. many of these times you had to initiate them yourself, easing him into it. now that he had someone to call his own, it felt almost surreal. and unbenknownest to you, he regularly kisses you on your forehead as you're sleeping, your dreams suddenly feeling sweeter than before.

aether, scaramouche, albedo, lyney, bennett, kaveh, freminet, gorou, tighnari, xiao, dan heng, arlan, gepard, moze . . .

his kisses feel straight out of a romance drama, always tender and sickeningly sweet. and you can't help but wonder if he takes notes on your favorites. but no, this was just how he was. the way he'd hold intense eye contact before leaning in to close the gap, the way he cradled the side of your head, even the way he'd softly whisper "is this okay?" each and every time. he leaves your face and neck warm and flushed, and when you try and hide it, he gently tilts your head up with his fingers. "don't hide your face, pretty"

ayato, baizhu, diluc, zhongli, kazuha, neuvillette, venti, kaeya, thoma, argenti, boothill, jing yuan, gepard . . .

he prefers to have his kisses as few as possible, yet with the most passion as he can muster. kisses between the two of you are rare unless its initiated by you, like small gestures like forehead and cheek kisses. but there are times where even he cant deny himself of your lips, pulling you into his lap randomly out of the blue. when he does decide to take pity on the both of you, he takes your breath and soul away. they're hot, heavy, full of pent up emotion, bad or good. and by the end you two are breathing into eachother's mouth, both your eyes telling eachother to not stop.

alhaitham, albedo, scaramouche, diluc, capitano, xiao, sunday, blade, dr ratio, dan heng, dan feng, moze . . .

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ktownshizzle · 2 months ago

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Wild & Free | Part 2 of 2

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Everybody says they want to marry Min Yoongi. But what if he only wants to say 'yes' to you.

Alternatively: While on the last leg of their PTD tour, Yoongi discovers there was such a thing as drive-thru weddings in Las Vegas - spontaneous, wild, exciting - something his pretty little brain can't seem to process having lived the last decade of his life planned to perfection by his management team, which includes you. When he goes down a rabbit hole of Youtube videos about The Little White Wedding Chapel (Omo! Michael Jordan got married there!), he starts getting all sorts of ideas - all of it starring him and you.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Childhood friends to lovers, Idol!au, Coworkers to lovers (reader is a HYBE employee)

Warnings: Please read part 1 for this to make sense. We start with oral (f. receiving) bec this is Yoongi, sex of course (v. cute and loving, unprotected- u wrap it up tho), self-indulgent shit if ima be honest, more cursing lol, reader is a yapper, couple of idiots but not for long, spit kink, reader is an aspiring brat, overuse of the term ‘baby’, tiny Beauty and the Beast reference if you catch it (tell me if you do!), possible inaccuracies about Las Vegas (read full statement fr part 1)

Word Count: 11k (approx. 45 mins to read)

Posting date: September 27, 2024

Dividers: @/saradika-graphics

Part One | Part Two | Masterlist

“Mm, there,” you mewl mindlessly, tugging his copper hair when his tongue hits. the. spot. “Shit, that’s IT.”

How you went from almost throwing him out of your room to him throwing you on the bed is a blur at this point. The moment your lips touched it was like he took over all your faculties. Brain emptied, pussy surrendered in less than a minute.

The way you are stripped of every inch of your clothing and he still has everything on gives you some false sense of power. But you know he is the one in-charge and dear God you are willing to submit.

Yoongi groans after a particularly harsh pull, and you realize belatedly how his scalp must be burning.

“Sorry,” you release his poor strands, but a quick hand grips your wrist.

“I don’t give a fuck–,” he says sternly, intense eyes looking up at you for a millisecond before diving back in like a man who has not had a proper meal in a year.

As if you’re not sufficiently down bad for him, you discover his dominating side and you are now an absolute wreck.

Eyes squeezed shut, your hands move to grip the sheets to tether you into this world as his hot tongue licks against your folds before swirling on the nub that has your soul ascending to another plane. Pinpricks of pleasure shoot from your core towards the tips of your limbs, every fiber of your being burning, coming alive.

But, he suddenly stops, and you can’t help the tiny whimper that immediately spills from your lips, panicked eyes going down to where he was.

His lips curl into a devilish smirk, before he pushes two fingers inside your entrance and the most obscene moan escapes your throat. Embarrassed, you pull your lips inward to muffle any sound you're bound to make.

He extracts his fingers from your hole and you are horrified at how empty you suddenly feel.

Shit, he looks mad. Were you too loud?

His smeared hand appears by the side of your face, pressing down the mattress to support his weight. The chains on his neck that hovers over your flushed face renders you speechless. You may have seen this in your mind’s eye, but it cannot compare to the real thing.

You see the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead as he lifts a brow and speaks in a voice too calm for a threat, “If you want to cum on my tongue, you better let me hear you.”

“Okay,” you breathe out quickly, desperate, needy.

Looking pleased, he slinks back down, licking the valley of your breasts, kissing your knee, the inner part of your thigh, towards your mound.

He gingerly spreads your folds, purses his lips, then spits—”fuck!”—before slurping the juices from your cunt, creating a lewd melody with your helpless moans.

His lithe fingers start to move in and out of your slick walls in a steady rhythm that has your body tensing up like you’ve never had a proper orgasm.

A warm hand glides up your stomach towards the flesh of your breast, massaging it softly. His calloused thumb swipes over your nipple once, twice, thrice in a dizzying dance before twisting it, synching each roll with a lap of his tongue on your clit.

Goddamn, how did he get so good with that–wait you don’t want to know. You focus on his ministrations, his every move creating tidal waves of pleasure. His tongue moving in figure eights. Two fingers, curling slightly as it slides in and out. Your nipples, pinched and rolled expertly. Sanity, ebbing slowly away…

“Don’t stop,” you beg pathetically. “Shit, Yoongi, please…”

The devil laughs against your pussy, puffs of breath touching your wetness. For a second you thought he might edge you and you are so not a fan of that. But as always, Yoongi knows you, flaws and all. Patience was not your strong suit. And he is never cruel and

“Fuck—I’m gonna cum.”

“Give it to me.”

He keeps playing your body like a guitar, strings plucked and pulled taut, rapidly, repeatedly, coaxing out a melody from you that can rival any track he has ever laid down in Genius Lab.

“Oh… oh… Yoongi… Yoon-“

Body vibrating, hips bucking to meet his every hard thrust, you chant his name over and over in broken cries as white hot pleasure finally crashes through you, leaving you shattered in its wake.

Damn. What was that?

Easily the best orgasm you’ve had in a while and you were about to tell him exactly that. But he emerges from the depths of your core like a fuckin’ devil with the biggest shit-eating grin as he wipes his glistening chin with the back of his hand, and you think—nope, he doesn’t need a big head.

If it were any other man you might not have grasped the pillow above your head to hit him square in the face.

“Don’t look so smug,” you chide, but he just laughs. That adorable shoulders-bobbing soundless chuckle he does.

He lays beside you on the bed, hands behind his head, a cheeky grin plastered across his face as he licks his lips contentedly.

If you only knew the relief that is flooding his own senses at that moment. If you only knew that he took it personally, you chose that younger, more muscly dude to take home for the night. What, like he can’t get you there? Fuck that. He felt so vindicated.

Wordlessly, he guides you towards his body, draping the sheets over your bottom halves. You nestle your cheek against his chest, head tilted up slightly to admire the silver on his neck.

You can almost see the Yoongi you know coming back and decide you wanna bring him down a peg. Just for shits.

“So that’s what that tongue technology does, huh?“ you tease. “Took me to Hong Kong like you—”

“Aishhh! Hajimaaaa!” Your cheeks are suddenly smushed and he smothers your lips with tiny pecks, visibly flustered by his lyrics being repeated to him. It escalates into a flurry of lazy tickles and giggles until it naturally dissolves into lazy cuddles and watery smiles.

You feared this would be awkward, but it actually feels so… natural. Even as you both settle in your own sides, letting thoughts consume you after such a huge leap in your friendship, a comfortable silence takes over that you think he might even be asleep.

But then you feel his soft, slightly clammy hand squeezing your arm, pulling you back into the moment. “You good?” He asks, and you know there are layers to his question that you have yet to unravel. That it’s not just about how you are feeling physically, but everything: the shift in your relationship, this open door to some place new.

“Never better,” you say for now, pushing your body up slightly, so you can kiss his neck, dropping your voice to what you hope is a seductive purr. “I was thinking… Maybe I can return the favor?”

His eyes widen a fraction, but he shakes his head. “S’ cool, I want this to be about you.”

“So corny,” you deflate, moving to rest your head on your own pillow in protest.

“For real. I wanted to make you feel good. Least I can do for ruining your night.”

“But you didn’t--”

Your protest trails off as he lowers his head to kiss you again. Unable to help yourself, you lick against his mouth, your taste on his tongue still palpable, and the coals in your core start to ignite anew.

“Is this how you’ll get me to shut up from now on?” you mumble against his soft lips, swinging your legs over his hip.

“I think it’s working.”

“Sure is.”

“We don’t have to rush,” he reminds you after a beat, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, not quite meeting your eyes. Because what you didn’t know was what a liar he was. If you had any idea about all the unhinged thoughts brewing in his brain, like how perfect you would look with your mascara smeared and his cock pulsing inside your mouth, or like how he would love to take you to that wedding chapel and marry the shit outta you right now. Literal bonkers.

“But I want to,” you whine pathetically, wandering hands sliding down to the waistband of his boxers. “I want to taste your...”

Your phone rings from a distance, but you see Sejin’s face lighting up the screen.

“Dick.”

“That’s your boss.”

“And that’s what he is right now. It’s almost 3 a.m.”

You begrudgingly walk towards the desk where your phone was, rubbing your arms from the chill of the AC.

You pick up one of your stray sweaters draped over a chair, slipping it on before you swipe to answer the call. “Sejin-ssi?”

Maybe it was late, or maybe your brain dumbed down significantly after that amazing release, but Sejin’s litany was dragging on and you just hope you pick up the key stuff. “director called… need to reshoot early tomorrow… emailed you the details… Yoongi told you what happened right? … make sure he gets the message?”

“Okay.”

“Thanks.”

You check Sejin’s email and texts and give Yoongi the rundown (basically he only has three hours to sleep before the early call time at the same penthouse suite), plugging your phone back in the charger afterwards. You stop by the bath and tug a fresh pair of panties on before returning to the bedroom.

His eyes are like little crescents as you pad over, very sleepy, very cutesy, before it zeroes in on the letters on your jumper. FG, it reads.

“Thief,” he says, pulling you back into bed, letting your head rest atop his arm to make you his little spoon–or so you thought, before he places your head in a mock headlock. “How many of my shirts have you stolen, huh?”

“This year, or?”

He lets go of his grip on your head, squeezing your waist playfully and you giggle.

“I was looking forward to staying here with you,” he mumbles, burying his face against your hair.

“Something about one of the cameras being kicked by somebody and files got corrupted. Know anything about it?”

“Hmm.”

And you suddenly remember the commotion between him and Jin yesterday while Jake was inviting you to go out. Strangely, it’s starting to make sense, but there was something more important to be addressed.

“Yoongi,” you call over your shoulder, and he doesn’t reply so you try to peel his arm from you only to be met by a groan. “We owe Jake an apology. You know that wasn’t cool, right?”

“I know,” he croaks, letting out a deep sigh. “I’ll talk to him, I promise.”

“Thank you, baby,” you mutter sleepily, the yawn leaving your mouth halting mid-way as you clock yourself for the term of endearment that just casually slipped out. Yoongi hums in approval, snuggling even closer, and you decide you might just keep it.

Your first sort-of morning after, you didn’t think you’d wake up alone, but Yoongi had to leave due to the early call time. It was hazy how he left hours ago, but you can recall a peck gingerly placed on your forehead before he extracted the arm that was resting across your stomach and took all the warmth you needed with him. You can vaguely recall his gravelly tone as he places the duvet over your body, none of his words registering in your half-awake state.

You move through your morning on autopilot, going through the motions without much thought. But when you spot Yoongi’s jacket draped over the couch, your mind starts to drift. The details of last night come flooding back—every touch, every word—and before you know it, you’re smiling to yourself as you grab your bag from the same spot.

But then, like clockwork, anxiety creeps in, that old familiar weight settling in your chest. Your steps falter, and as you head for the door, all you can think is: Fuck. What if everything he said, everything he did, was just in the heat of the moment? What if it didn’t mean a damn thing?

The thought tightens around you, and the idea of facing that reality feels like too much to bear. You need to know that you’re on the same page. Stat.

The moment you enter the set, it seems that fate has sent you a sign on what needed to be dealt with first.

You watch as Jake sets up his camera equipment, adjusting lenses and fiddling with the lights. Tapping his shoulder, you clear your throat and offer a shy smile.

“Hi,” he says simply, zipping up one of the camera bags before turning his full attention to you.

“I’m sorry for what happened,” you say, your voice earnest.

His shoulders lift tentatively. “It’s not ideal. But I get it. Jimin told me.”

You raise an eyebrow, a bit taken aback. “Jimin?”

“Yeah,” Jake says, gripping one of the tripods. “He was outside when Yoongi threw me out.”

Oh. Why was he even there? You sigh, adjusting the bag on your shoulder, the mysteries of the situation still weighing on you. “Honestly, I didn’t know he was gonna do that. Things are a bit complicated I guess.”

Jake chuckles, shaking his head as he finishes with the equipment. “Funny, that’s what he said when he apologized earlier.”

“Ah. Glad he talked to you,” you respond, feeling a little relieved that Yoongi did what he promised.

Jake looks at you, his eyes twinkling with a mix of curiosity and sincerity. “Noona, can I tell you what I told him, too?”

You nod, curious. “Okay?”

Jake leans against the equipment cart, his tone light but direct. “Just uncomplicate it.”

He gives you a cheeky grin, adding, “Now this I didn’t tell him, because I like my job and like living. But if it doesn’t work out with him, maybe I could get a chance to take you out on a date for real?”

Your mouth parts disbelievingly and he winks before wheeling the cart away, shaking his head in amusement.

Face still warm from Jake’s shameless flirt, you see Yoongi’s bright orange hair before you even see the rest of him and this sobers you right up. Across the room, he was chatting with Namjoon about something seemingly important. The medium gray suit he was wearing is really doing things to you that you cannot explain. He looks like a proper groom, the fuck?! You look away before anybody sees you drooling over your… best friend? boyfriend? one night stand? Ugh! Future husband? Shit?!

Thankfully, one of the senior PAs proffers an iced coffee to you before your brain overheats.

“Yoongi-ssi says to give this to you,” he says curtly and walks away.

The drink was cold, but the warmth across your cheeks was still tangible as you take your first sip. Your eyes drift back to Yoongi and find his gaze on you so you mouth a thanks, lifting the cup as if to toast him. He simply nods.

The wingman of the year suddenly appears by your side. “Y’all good now?”

“I don't know what you mean, Chim Chim.” You slurp from your drink loudly for show.

Jimin sighs, “He’s not telling me anything.”

“Then I'm not either.”

His nose flares. “Nah. Fuck both of you. Truly. After all I–”

Sejin hollers your name, and you flash Jimin a quick peace sign, cutting him off mid-sentence. He’s left behind, pouting like a baby as you walk away with a grin.

After an hour or so, the shoot almost wraps up. Feeling peckish, you are surmising the food in the mini catering setup in the other room, when you sense someone behind you. Strangely enough, you know who it is just by the way he was dragging his shoes and the timbre of his inhale.

“You smell nice,” Yoongi says in a casual drawl, looking over your shoulder to check the food out.

The tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Maybe you did sneak in an extra spray of perfume before leaving the hotel and made sure to hit the pulse points, because, you know, pheromones and attraction and all that…

Before your mind goes off the deep end, you default to defense mode. “You better not be saying that to everyone… kinda creepy.”

Completely disregarding your attempt to downplay the compliment, he replies, “Hmm. Didn't peg you as the jealous type.”

You pout, trying to look offended but failing miserably.

Shifting gears, he asks, “You busy today?” and places the tiny blue macaron on your plate that you were about to reach for, before pushing a peach one inside his mouth.

“I’ve the rest of the day, but you have to go to Anderson Paak’s house.”

“You’re not coming?” he asks mid-chew, the sweet treat pushed aside creating a dent on the inside of his cheek.

“His team requests for the meeting to be ‘intimate and organic,’ their words not mine, so it's just your interpreter, and your bodyguard.”

“But you’re my…” The beginning of his complaint halts. Cat got his tongue.

He blinks. You blink. It’s just ridiculous at this point, the emotional constipation. He could have easily just said manager, because really that’s what you are for all professional intents and purposes. But you both know you are also at the precipice of something new, teetering on the edge of becoming real. Neither of you has said it yet. Not out loud, anyway.

“We really need to talk.” You decide.

“Tonight,” he agrees with a tight-lipped smile.

“Like really talk.”

“Kay.” he brushes powdered sugar off his hands and onto his slacks. “I’ll be in your room by 8.”

“Please don't try to bust the door down this time, Gaston. Just use the doorbell.”

He crinkles his nose at you and with a small huff he goes back to set, a satisfied grin on your face and hope blooming in your chest that everything will be fine.

***

At 10 past 8 in the evening, you finally hear the doorbell. You drag your hotel slippers-clad feet to the door, stopping by the mirror briefly to check your appearance before pulling the door knob. You were just wearing a shirt and tiny sleep shorts, but you did add a flavored balm to your lips in case.

“Hiiii babyyyy,” Voice slurred, Yoongi’s squinty face comes into view, and your eyes bug out as you find Bangtan’s interpreter Nicole and bodyguard Sunjae holding him up by the elbows.

Reeking of alcohol and maybe a hint of something even more suspicious, he stumbles into your room, kicking off his dunks which lands with a dull thud somewhere you can’t see.

“Explain, please?” you eye his bodyguard who scratches the back of his neck, before he sheepishly recounts how Anderson Paak was all about the vibes…

The fuck?!

Before you can ask more questions, “C’mere baby, I missed youuuu…” Yoongi croons from the couch.

Maybe it was too late, but still, you hold your hands in front of you in an attempt to deny whatever impression they now have of your relationship, “Guys, it’s really not what it looks like, okay?”

“It’s fine,” Nicole assures you awkwardly, holding two thumbs up. “He talked a lot about you in the car, you know? Like a lot. I’m… We’re happy for you guys.” The bodyguard also nods. “And we won’t tell the company.”

Flabbergasted, the sharpest intake of air pierces your lungs. What do they know? And do they know more than you at this point? You just hate Min Yoongi sometimes.

“Alright, I guess I’ll take it from here. Thank you, both,” you say with a tense smile and click the door shut, pressing your forehead on the door before facing the drunkie in your living room who was attempting to turn on the TV with the remote control of the AC.

Great.

This is a version of Yoongi you don’t get to see that frequently. He was ditzy-drunk, a needy, chatty, loopy Yoongi that is actually quite endearing if you remove the fact that he will be hungry in an hour or so (pizza with pickles, usually; sometimes some kind of noodles) and the night typically ends with a good ol’ barf. You’ve dealt with ditzy-drunk Yoongi before and the best solution you’ve found is to just ride the wave.

Slouched on the couch with his legs spread, Yoongi has a lazy but naughty smile on his face as you approach. You wanna be mad so bad, but fuck, he actually looks kinda cute right now.

He tilts his head to the side, jutting his lips out, “Are you mad?”

“No…” you sigh, flopping down next to him.

“Then sit here.” He taps his lap.

“I’m fine here.”

“This is better, I promise. It’s ergonomic.” He presents his lap as a chair with a flourish. You swear, this guy and his weird vocabulary of equally useful and useless knowledge.

You move to settle your body on his thighs, swinging your legs over to straddle him. His mouth stretches into a big grin, satisfied to have your weight on him.

“Why are you so tense?” he places his hands on your shoulders, massaging downward to your elbows.

“We were supposed to talk, but now you’re so out of it,” you sigh.

“I have very high alcohol tolerance, excuse you!”

“Yes, but you’re drunk af right now!”

“False. I’m not at all drunk at all.”

“Wow. So believable,” you deadpan.

“Yah! Why don’t you believe me? Why does no one ever believe me?”

Even ARMY knows he word-vomits when he lies. And when he’s drunk. Deadly combo.

“Ok, prove it. You want to talk, right? So talk.”

He blinks owlishly at you, as you challenge him with your raised brows.

“Thinking is soooo hard,” he complains, before he perks up with an idea. “Ah! Ask me questions and I will answer them.”

A rare opportunity to let Yoongi yap voluntarily. Cool, you’ll take it.

“How many drinks did you have?”

“Yes,” he nods confidently.

You massage your temples with your fingers and sigh. This was going to be a long night.

You end up asking the most random things and Yoongi gives either the most unhinged or deeply unsatisfying responses. At some point during the night, some instant ramen was had (thanks to Jungkook who dropped off some from his stash), after which, Yoongi, as expected, ended up doubled over on the toilet.

As you watched him heave the contents of his stomach, the rancid smell making your own tummy turn, the one thing that you thought was what a mess he was, but you want him to be yours. Your messy, loopy, ditzy, drunkie, Yoongi. Yours.

Eyes pitiful, mouth upturned, with orange locks grouped in sweat, poor Yoongi grasps the seat of the toilet, asking, “Can I borrow a shirt?”

You push the hair away from his forehead, nodding, “Of course, baby.”

After a shower, he emerges from the bathroom with your (his) white tshirt, remnants of ditzy-drunk Yoongi long gone, and in comes the version you love, barefaced and beautiful.

What a masterpiece, Min Yoongi is, and you wonder how it is that some higher being crafted someone with such a delicate face with a mind so captivating and a heart so wonderful. And you haven’t even seen his cock at this point. What if that is a beaut, too?

He walks towards you, head flicked to one side as he rubs a towel on his damp hair.

“Mint, Yoongi? Might settle your tummy,” you gesture to the cup of tea on the coffee table.

“Angel.” He says, padding over to the console with the towel draped on his neck. A slurp and a satisfied mmm later, he settles beside you.

“Are we still playing the game?” You ask.

A pause, but his response surprises you, “I guess we are.”

And so you decide to ask something you’ve been curious about since he got there. Because as much fun as you had conversing with him on petty shit, you are really desperate to know how to move forward with him.

“What did you tell Nicole and Sunjae about me?” you hug your pajama-covered knees.

He lets out a faint chuckle, gaze fixed firmly on the floor as if it holds all the answers. “You should have asked this earlier.”

“I’m asking now,” you face him slightly, trying to read his expression.

By the looks of it, it’s not like he doesn’t know or forgot. The pressure was internal. The hesitation was borne out of years of evading uncomfortable unknowns, which served him well, until it didn’t. You can almost hear the gears turning in his head, thoughts being organized, distilled, rationalized. That’s just how Yoongi is.

And because where he is avoidant, you were non-confrontational. So you open your mouth, about to offer him an out. Maybe you didn’t have to talk about it today? Maybe you should just put a pin on it and maybe talk about it when you’re both ready–like after another decade? Cool cool…

But this time, he shifts. His palm rests face up on his knee, an invitation for you to hold. You place your hand in his, feeling the warmth radiating through his skin, grounding you both.

The television is still on, bathing his features in blue light as you observe him. He picks up the remote and shuts the screen off, the sudden silence working to thicken the tension in the air.

You’re so nervous for some reason that you can feel your palms sweating against his. You already kissed. He already told you he was yours. You just need to sign the dotted line. Sober.

“I told them,” he begins, his voice low and steady, eyes fixed straight ahead on the blank TV. “That you’re everything to me. You’re my best friend. You’re my dream.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, the words reverberating through you like a symphony.

“I think we both know this isn’t just…like we’re not just…you know.” His hand tightens around yours as he bites his lip, struggling to find the right words. “It hasn’t been just friendship for a long time. At least for me.”

“There’s this song I wrote… umm, I was gonna play it for you in the studio when we got home. Fuck it’s so cringe now that I think about it. But, yeah, that was the plan.” He laughs softly, and you can’t help but laugh along, the sound of your shared amusement creating a bridge between you.

Your name falls from his lips, so you glance up and find his warm eyes connecting with yours.

“I love you,” he rasps, voice sincere and raw. “I’ve loved you for so long. Can’t even recall a time that I didn’t.”

Before your mind can catch up with your heart, you crash your lips on his unceremoniously and desperately. You’re back on his lap, hands resting against his chest, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. You kiss him fiercely, pouring all your unspoken feelings into the action. His hand moves into your hair, gently pulling you closer, deepening the kiss.

While your first kiss was passionate, it was laced with so many residual emotions that built up over the course of last night. Frustration, anger, hunger quickly took over both of you the moment your lips finally met, quickly escalating into, well, the best oral of your life, apparently. So no regrets there.

But this kiss—this one—was it. The kind you'd remember fondly when you’re old and gray of what it feels like to be really kissed. Enlightening, like finding the final piece of a puzzle you’d been working on since your youth. Filled with all the love and years of words left unsaid, like a pin code, a password, a key, that only he knew how to unlock.

As you pull away, breathless but content, you look into his eyes and respond clearly, simply, “I love you too, Yoongi.”

And in that moment, as your eyes meet like you were the only two remaining in the world, everything feels right.

“But I can’t believe you let your bodyguard hear that confession first.”

“Aish!”

“I thought it would at least be Jimin.”

“Fuck that. Don’t even talk about another man right now.”

Suddenly that tone is back and your body starts to tense in response. He grips your hips and pulls you against him so you can properly feel the ridge of his cock right against your clothed folds. Yep, that’s a semi.

“You better be nice to me,” his hands move to squeeze your ass expertly, encouraging you to roll forward. Who are you to decline? Not when the pressure from his bulge is caressing your center in the best possible way.

Your body threatens to give in, but the brat in you is still in fighting form, “Or else what?”

“I think you know how nice I can be,” he husks, moving to place teasing kisses on your neck, sucking on the skin to leave a mark. God, that feels good.

“I uh m-might need help remembering.”

He smiles against your neck, his breathy voice tickling you a bit, “You got amnesia, baby?”

You nod meekly, hands roaming towards the back of his neck.

“You better remember my name when I fuck you,” he licks the shell of your ear and you gasp, a gush of liquid soaking your panties.

“Take this off,” he commands, hungry eyes dipping down to your chest.

“So demanding,” you risk the cheeky remark and as expected, you get his unimpressed look. Ok, ok. You’ll be good now.

You lift your shirt by the hem and before you can even pull it over your head, his big, warm hands seize your breasts as they bounce free.

“Fuuuck, baby, I love these. I love these a lot.” He shakes his head in disbelief, bringing your tits together, enjoying how soft they felt in his grasp.

Preening at his dazed reaction, you arch your body forward, placing your chest directly in his sightline. “They’re yours, baby.”

“Uh huh,” he grunts, licking his bottom lip before moving towards one of your nipples. Your eyes threaten to close as the warmth of his mouth envelopes your nub. But you want this moment forever ingrained in your mind–with the way he is mouthing your tits, murmuring his dirty thoughts, lips pushing and teeth pulling. He moves to your other breast, giving it the same treatment, while a hand takes the one his mouth just left, flicking the swollen tip with his index finger to send more jolts of pleasure through you.

“How did you get so good at that?” you mumble, unable to keep your eyes open anymore, your fingers getting lost in his hair.

“How did these get so juicy,” he growls against your spit-covered tit and you feel his teeth clamping down hard.

You moan loudly as arousal pools at your core. “Fuck we should have done this sooner.”

With a small chuckle, he taps your thigh once, and says, “Meet me in the bedroom,” and you are immediately on your feet, leaving him rummaging through his bag for what you assume is a condom. The triumphant “ha!” you hear confirms it.

Okay, so what do you do now? You start with removing your little shorts and chucking it somewhere on the side, leaving you with your basic as hell black cotton panties, but it’s as good as it gets right now. How do you make this sexy, like do you lie down on your tummy, giving him a great view of your cleavage, or stay sat pushing your boobs together like an anime girl. Why you’re acting brand new is beyond you, but your–

“What are you doing?”

You halt your movements, ending up in an awkward mermaid pose that you don’t even know if it looks good. “Umm…”

Cute, you think you hear him say, before he lifts his shirt up and off his body and you get a view of the smooth, pale planes of his torso and his dusty nipples that have your mouth watering. Your eyes continue to drink his unintentional strip tease, watching hungrily as he removes his boxers to let his cock spring free.

“Fuck…” Unfair. Just unfair how gorgeous he is.

By the looks of it, he knows what you want, feline eyes taunting you as he pokes the inside of his cheek before grasping the base of his cock, tugging at it once. “You know what to do, or uh–do I have to shove it in?”

Quickly, you drop to your knees, feeling a little bit of rug burn that you might whine about later, and you slide your hands up towards the back of his inner thigh to anchor yourself.

You were never into power dynamics and all that with your past lovers, but there was something about Yoongi in the bedroom that made you want to be a bratty sub. Something told you that he would enjoy taming you, too.

“If you knew what to do, you would actually shove it in,” you say with misplaced cockiness, not knowing you were going to regret it in about five seconds.

He shakes his head with a disbelieving grin as if to say you’re going to be in big trouble. You gulp as his long fingers grasp the length of your jaw to squeeze your cheeks, forcing your lips to form an O-shape. “Open up.”

You do as he says and as expected, he does shove it in.

He groans as his cock hits the back of your throat. You sputter a bit and you hate how it makes you look like an amateur, but the truth is, you’ve never really taken anyone of his size.

With him still in your mouth, his thumb caresses the side of your cheek, concerned that he might have hurt you, “You okay, baby?”

You nod even as tears threaten to spill from your eyes, not wanting to disappoint him. With a softened expression, he lets his cock fall away from your mouth, but you immediately catch it in your hand with renewed vigor. You pump him for a few strokes before plugging the tip with your mouth as your hand continues the motions.

He hisses loudly as you lick the pre-cum that has pooled in his slit, his salty taste and heady scent invading your senses, springing you to do more. Cheeks hollowed you move to take all of him in your mouth, coating the smooth ridges with your saliva, before his head hits your throat. You’re ready this time, moaning as you keep his entire cock lodged inside.

“Shit,” he exhales breathlessly, a hand combing through his hair as he tips his head back.

Taking it as a good sign, you glide in and out faster, pressing your tongue against a thick vein that runs along the underside of his dick. Your hands move upwards towards the meat of his ass and you squeeze and push him further into you, eliciting a low groan from him.

He clumps a fistful of your hair into a haphazard ponytail as he rocks forward, gauging your reaction as he starts with some experimental shoves. You look up at him, nodding, a silent surrender. The corners of his lips lifts up in a snarl as you place both hands behind your back, relinquishing all control to him.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he grunts as his hips buck into your mouth. Eyes watering, mascara streaks your cheeks as he continues his assault. You keep your head clear, breathing through your nose, wanting, no, needing to make this good for him.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when he lightly tugs your hair, and groans, “Shit, baby— baby, stop.”

He releases your hair and uses his index finger to tip your chin up so he can assess you. Your brows are furrowed, unsure why he stopped.

Slightly out of breath and sporting a lopsided grin, he calls you, “my perfect girl” and your worries subside as he explains, “I had to stop ‘cause it was getting too good. Don’t wanna cum yet.”

You’ve obviously found Yoongi attractive, but he deadass is his hottest right now, dazed and disheveled from being pleasured by you.

He grips his cock and begins to trace your swollen lips with it to smear his slick all over you like a gloss. “So gorgeous…”

You preen at his praise, sticking your tongue out so he can play with your mouth more. He slaps his cock against your tongue a few times, your saliva dribbling down your chin. You taste minute drops of his cum as he works the tip of his dick against your wet muscle in tiny circles.

Your jaw hurts like hell, your face is a mess, but he is looking at you like you are heaven-sent, as if you were carved out by the gods and bestowed to him as a present. With this realization, your heart squeezes with emotions you can’t place. All you know is that you’re willing to do anything and everything for him, his happiness, your own.

You are truly fuckin’ whipped.

“Up baby, let me take care of you,” he scoops you by the elbow, guiding you to the bed. You crawl atop the mattress, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, and yelp when you feel a playful little slap against your butt.

“Can’t help it,” Yoongi says, moving on top of you, floppy bangs covering his teasing eyes.

He uses the pad of his thumb to rub off some of the mascara from under your eyes, then moves some of your hair away from your face. The softness in his gaze fills you with wonder, and for a few charged moments you both just look at each other, before you break the silence with a tender confession.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” you tell him as he strokes your cheek.

He smiles. Nods and says, “Me too,” then he kisses you, softly, with gentle caresses of his tongue against the seam of your lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve imagined you like this.”

“Hope it didn’t disappoint.”

“Nah you’re more than perfect.”

Eyes round, lips pouty, warmth blooms across your cheeks at his praise, unable to say a word. You? Perfect?

“Stop being so damn cute when I’m supposed to be fucking you.” He pecks your nose, then down to your lips where he lingers. You push your tongue against his mouth and he is ready to suck on it softly, swallowing your moans. His kisses start getting rougher and faster, as your fingernails lightly claw his smooth back. He’s got you whimpering when he pulls your plush bottom lip with his teeth and releases it with a dull pop.

His breath fans your cheeks as he moves to pepper kisses along your jaw, towards the sensitive spot behind your ear and down your neck. All the while his hands are traveling all over your skin, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

As you continue to explore each other's mouths, you're starting to become too aware that your pussy is leaking, feeling abandoned, aching for friction. You could do it, dip your hands under the waistband of your panties and take the edge off a bit, but where’s the fun in that?

“Touch me, please Yoongi,” you ask breathlessly.

“I am.” he licks a tender spot on your neck that makes you gasp, while his hand gently caresses the base of your throat, squeezing it experimentally. Another gasp escapes you.

“Lower, please…”

“Where?” he asks playfully. “Here?” He tweaks a nipple and you whine. “Or here?” He lets his fingers move to the mound of your pussy before he hooks your panty to the side and slides his fingers to your leaking entrance.

You wail as the touch you have been craving for finally comes. Yoongi looks ever so pleased with your reaction, biting his lip as his fingers work your clit in slow circles underneath the soaked cotton.

Insane. You’re starting to be driven insane just by the feel of his veiny fingers gathering your arousal and coating your nub with every slow stroke.

Mouth, you desperately need his mouth. You cup the side of his face to pull him towards you and your mouths move languidly, matching the pace of his fingers.

“Wanna be inside you,” he murmurs against your lips.

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh. But I need you to cum first, can you do that for me?”

“Okay, I’m close.”

His index and middle finger picks up its pace stroking against the sides of your clit. The pressure in your body builds, and you can no longer control the way your body jerks at the mounting bliss.

“Let it happen,” he licks your bottom lip. “Cum.”

And finally your body succumbs, thighs clenching hard as you coat his fingers with the outpouring of your pleasure.

Pulling his fingers from your pussy, he makes a show of licking your creamy cum from his fingers and you almost go cross-eyed with how feral the act is making you.

“Gimme a sec,” he drops a kiss on your forehead before moving to roll away from your body, and you assume he was about to get the condom.

An urge comes to mind and you are powerless to stop your mouth from blurting it out.

“You don’t have to,” you tell him shyly, sitting up while he pulls the packet from his discarded shorts. “I’m on the pill, and am clean.” And you know he is, too, because you regularly monitor his wellness checks.

Yoongi stands by the foot of the bed, mouth parting and closing wordlessly like a fish as he tries to decipher your words.

And you know you needn’t say this, but it’s out before you think better of it, “it’s been umm years since my last.”

Yoongi closes his eyes for a few seconds as if weighing his options. “You sure?”

“I want to feel you.” Fingers closing in on his dick, you pump his length, bringing it back to life. “All of you.”

“Fuck,” he groans, nodding. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“How do you want me?”

“Just lay down, I need to see your face when I fuck you.”

You do as he says and your back hits the plush duvet. He pulls your panties down your legs, throwing it on the floor carelessly. He crawls on top of your naked body and you hook your legs around his waist. Your heart pounds in anticipation.

“I’m gonna warn you, I might not last,” he aligns himself by your entrance, and finally sinks his cock inside your swollen pussy. You groan in unison as he bottoms out with ease, lost in the euphoria of each other's bodies.

For a moment, he stays lodged in you just like that, girth nestled against your folds, while your body adjusts to the welcome intrusion. The feeling consumes you whole–warm, wet, wonderful. You take deep, controlled breaths as you fight the urge to rut against him, but your inner walls can’t help but clench.

“Fuck, you feel so good, but I really need to move.”

“Promise we can cockwarm next time?”

“Uh huh.” and with that he starts to thrust into you in short, stuttered strokes, making you gasp for air.

“Fuuuckin hell you’re so tight,” he grunts, chasing the high of his release as dirty words continue to spill from his mouth.

You push your boobs together, his eyes magnetized by the action and watches as you pinch both nipples, making you moan.

“Yoongi…” you say his name wantonly, drunk in your desire for him. “Just use me, baby.”

Growling, he guides your leg above his shoulder for a better angle, and his pace increases tenfold. The sound of skin slapping on skin fills the room, mixed with helpless whines and grunts.

The familiar coil tightens in your belly.

“Touch yourself,” he insists and your hand slides down to where your bodies meet. Your clit is swollen, sticky as you rub it in circular motions timing it with his thrusts. “Are you close?”

“Mmh…” you nod. “So close…”

“Me too,” he pushes inside you rapidly, deeply, like he wants you to feel him for days. His thrusts are getting erratic, and you can see that he is incredibly close with the way his brows are pinched.

Electricity crackles between you, an invisible force leaping from your body to his, building with every shared thrust. His grip on your thighs are firm, and your nails are sure to leave indents on his shoulder. Everywhere your bodies meet, a spark ignites—a surge of energy that only grows stronger.

“I’m cumming,” he warns and it’s a miracle you’re able to respond with “I’m there…” as each movement sends another jolt, until the air itself hums with the raw, electric charge of your passion and you both cum at the same time.

You feel radiant and you swear you’ve never felt more alive.

Meanwhile, Yoongi looks absolutely destroyed as he sets your leg down, and you love it. Impenetrable, aloof, Min Yoongi brought to his demise by your pussy of all things.

He buries his face on the crook of your neck, his breaths tickling your skin. Slowly he eases out of you, and you hiss as you feel his sticky cum seep from your entrance.

“I thought I couldn’t be more in love with you, but shit I was wrong,” he mumbles, face still nestled by the top of your shoulder.

You don’t know what to say. So you keep it simple. “I love you, too, baby.”

After a whirlwind of a night, you and Yoongi quietly begin to clean up. You cuddle for a stretch of time, showering each other with the sweetest words. He hands you a bottle of water from the side table with a small smile, and for a while, you both just soak in the calm.

He finishes washing up first and heads back to the bed, scrolling aimlessly on his phone. Meanwhile, you're still in the ensuite, brushing your teeth, catching a glimpse of him as you finish up. The whole moment feels easy, like the perfect end to a long night.

“We can go out tomorrow if you’re down,” he says, as you spit the mouthwash on the sink. “I’ll take care of everything.”

“Aww. Our first date, huh?”

“We’ve been in plenty. You just didn’t know.”

Really?

You peek your head from the doorway of the bath, “ Yeah, but this will be my first as your girlfriend.”

That got him cheesing, nose wrinkling to hide a shy smile that was so unlike the beast that he was just a few minutes ago.

“What’s taking you so long? I already miss you,” he says pointedly, and you bound back to bed like his little pup and into his awaiting arms.

“I can get used to this,” he says against your forehead, pressing his lips to it.

“I still want to hear the song, by the way,” you mumble, referring to the supposed track that he was going to use to confess. “What is it called?”

“That That.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you slap his chest as he chuckles to himself. Not the crack song with Psy. You roll your eyes, ‘cause he thinks he is so funny, but he just cages you in tighter.

“No title yet, but you get to listen to it when we go home.”

“Mmkay.”

The next morning, you’re back from the breakfast buffet, where you sufficiently replaced all the calories you burned last night, and decide to chill in your room. Meanwhile, Yoongi makes some arrangements for your date.

Lounging on the couch, you are scrolling through IG, when a video call from your mom pops up. You quickly swipe to answer, smiling as her face appears on the screen.

“Hey, dumpling! How’s work?” she greets you with your childhood moniker, grinning like she always does when she sees you.

“Busy, but good,” you reply, while propping your phone against the lamp on the side table. “You know, the usual chaos. We’ll be home in a few days…”

“That’s good.” Then, without missing a beat, she narrows her eyes a little, leaning in toward the camera as if that’s going to make her point clearer. “So… did you use one of your dating apps while you’re there? Are you seeing anyone yet?”

She’s been asking you this for months, though always with that loving impatience that makes it hard to get annoyed.

Thankfully, today is the day that you have a different answer. “Actually… yeah. I have a boyfriend,” you admit, cheeks heating up.

Your mom’s face lights up immediately, her teasing forgotten. “Omo! Finally! That’s wonderful news. I was starting to think I’d have to phone Min Yang-hee and arrange…”

And of course, Min Yang-hee’s very own son, completely oblivious to the call, walks into view. And of course, he’s shirtless. Because why wouldn’t he be showing off those sweet little nips right now? And of course he is wearing low-hanging gray sweatpants. Because why wouldn’t his dickprint taunt you at the most inconvenient time?

“Baby, can I borrow your—” his voice cuts off as he realizes what’s happening. He freezes mid-step, eyes flicking between you and the phone.

“Yoongi-yah?!” your mom exclaims, her eyes practically sparkling.

Yoongi blinks, then awkwardly grins, as he grabs a throw pillow from the couch to shield his chest. “Oh… good morning, eomonim. Didn’t know you were, uh, here.”

Your mom’s grin turns downright mischievous. “Well, well, well. Look who finally makes a move! I was telling dumpling that I was about to call your…”

”Eomma!” You bury your face in your hands, feeling your cheeks burn with the insinuation of an arranged marriage.

“What?” she says, all fake innocence. “I’m just saying. Took you long enough, Yoongi. You’ve been trailing after her since you two were kids.”

Yoongi scratches the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed, but laughing along. “Eomonim, good things take time, right?”

“Oh, I’m sure. And look at you—future grandkids are gonna have such a handsome father.”

No, your own mother did not just check your boyfriend out. “Eomma, stop…”

“But don't think I haven't been keeping up with the news. Young man, you seem to have been getting wedding proposals left and right, you better not break my dumpling’s heart.”

“Please eomma.” You say even though you were getting a little teary-eyed from her being over protective of you.

“She’s the only woman I've been interested in, eomonim. As you said, since we were kids.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Quick, let’s add your eomma here! Such good news needs to be shared.”

Yoongi, now a deep shade of pink, chuckles nervously.

“Maybe later. We have a schedule to go to…” you interject.

“Is that what you kids call having se—“

“Love you, eomma!” You eye her pointedly, sufficiently mortified by the whole conversation.

Still grinning, your mom waves you off. “Love you, too, dumpling.”

Yoongi ended up renting a convertible and driving you all over town.

For lunch, you visit a charming café in the Arts District. The place is known for its artisan sandwiches and freshly pressed juices. You share a sandwich, a soup, and a salad, enjoying each other’s company and a few laughs over a meal that’s as delightful as it is delicious.

Then you move to a coffee shop you had wanted to try and it turned out to be a gem. The café was warm, cozy, with the faint hum of chatter and the clink of mugs surrounding you both. You sat across from him, your hands intertwined on the table, his thumb mindlessly stroking the back of your hand as you talked. The conversation was light, random, teasing—the kind of banter that always made you feel like the two of you were in your own little world.

“So, if you could magically transport us anywhere right now, where would we go? And don’t say ‘bed’—I swear you can’t always be sleeping.”

“Can I say bed, but not ‘cause I want to sleep?” He smirks, leaning back in his chair, still holding your hand, his middle finger rubbing your knuckles teasingly.

You scold him, “You’re so shameless!” and try to pull your hand away but he keeps his grip tight. He takes a few moments to think about his response.

“Maybe somewhere snowing like Sapporo. It’s going to be too cold for you to keep checking your phone every five minutes when we’re out.”

You look up from your phone screen guiltily, abandoning the email notification that flashed. “I have to ’cause I work for your famous ass,” you huff.

“About that…” Yoongi starts, and you know he meant your resignation.

You sigh, realizing you haven’t really discussed this with him. “Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Baby,” he leans forward, eyes kind. “You don’t have to apologize, okay? You have your reasons and I respect it. I’ll always support you.”

“I think this would be good for me, you know? Try something new.” You add, “There’s this corner spot close to my flat that I’ve been looking to lease.”

“For your cafe?” his face lights up, remembering your dream from way back.

“For my cafe,” you nod, heart expanding with the excitement you see in his eyes.

“Do it.” he says. “And if you need a handsome barista to help out once in a while you know I live just two streets down.”

You laugh, shaking your head, enjoying how easily he can make you smile.

“But I can’t afford you.”

“I’ll take payments in kisses and blo–”

“Min Yoongi!”

“I’m just playing, baby.”

His hand is still on yours, his fingers tracing gentle circles along your knuckles. It was so natural, so comfortable, that you barely notice when his touch becomes a little more deliberate, more precise.

It is not until you prepare to leave that you notice something different. You stand, bag tucked on the crook of your arm, and as you reach for your jacket, you see it—a tiny paper ring, made from a straw wrapper, folded with care and snug around your finger.

Suddenly, butterflies swarm in your stomach.

You look at him, eyebrows raised, holding up your hand as if it were evidence in a crime scene. “Yoongi?” you ask with a playful smile.

He blinks, trying to look innocent. “What? Wasn’t me.”

“Uh-huh,” you step closer, your eyes narrowing. “So, it just magically appeared on my finger?”

He shrugs, leaning casually against the back of his chair. “Must’ve been the wind. Or, you know, maybe it’s a sign. The universe is telling you something.”

You can’t help but laugh, feeling your cheeks warm as you play along. “And what exactly is the universe trying to tell me?”

He gave you that signature smirk of his, the one that always made your (and the entire ARMY’s) heart skip a beat. “That you’ve been claimed. Obviously.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t stop smiling. “Ah, really? Claimed by some mysterious paper-ring-tying ghost?”

He shrugs again, standing up and taking your hand as you both walk toward the door. “Who knows? But if I were you, I’d hold on to that. Could be worth something one day.”

You glanced down at your finger again, your chest warm with affection. “Yeah,” you agree softly, squeezing his hand. “I think I will.”

You continue your date along the backstreets of the Strip, away from the towering hotels and flashy fountains. As you stroll in silence, enjoying the sights, your fingers mindlessly play with the little ring on your finger, and his voice echoes in your head: “You’ve been claimed.”

And suddenly, you realize it’s true. You’ve claimed each other long before today’s paper ring and long before last night’s confession.

Every day since you’ve become close friends, you’ve claimed each other in the most ordinary ways. With every mundane moment and seemingly random act of kindness, you’ve expressed your love without needing grand declarations.

He knows exactly how you like your coffee and the perfect time to bring it to you. He carries your bag even when you insist you can manage on your own and even with his own busted shoulder. He always saves a seat for you—of course, right next to him. You have a suitcase here and a closet full of his shirts back home. He wears your black hair tie on his wrist and has a whole drawer full of them at his place. You know his five shades of drunk, and you know just the right kind of tea to cure his hangover.

He has truly been yours, and you, his. You both have just been too oblivious to see it. As the realization hits you like a freight train, your gaze lands on a sign that inspires you to show him just how committed you are. Sure, it’s bold and completely out of character for you, but you don’t want to think it through. It’s stupid. But who cares? You’re in love.

“You wanna get matching tattoos?”

Yoongi’s POV

Min Yoongi likes being in Las Vegas. And maybe this is why.

This is where he finally gets lucky. And not in the crass sort of way.

Here, he has felt a surge of courage he’s never had before, pushing him to act on feelings he’s kept hidden for way too long. And while confessing to you still felt like a gamble, he was more ready and willing to roll the dice and see where it lands.

People say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. But for Min Yoongi, this time is different. He’s determined to make it last—just like the identical lotus tattoo that now sits on his wrist and on yours. It isn’t just a reminder of this wild adventure; it symbolizes the beginning of something real and lasting between you two.

After getting inked, he decides to drive away from the city, heading towards a scenic cliffside spot he found on Google that morning. He thought it would be the perfect place to unwind and catch the sunset, while enjoying the spam musubi and Slurpees you got from the gas station nearby. Truth be told, he thought maybe he could sneak in a makeout session with you, too, something he knew couples would sometimes do in places like this. (At least that’s what he’s seen in American movies!) Being an idol often kept him from enjoying “normal” things, and since he couldn’t exactly do this with you near the Han without the fear of being on Dispatch that same night, he figured it would be a fun escape to pretend he was just an ordinary guy taking his girl out on a date in this foreign city.

He sits on the hood of the convertible, the metropolis stretching out below, a sea of lights slowly flickering on as the sun dips toward the horizon. You’re nestled against him, your head resting on his chest, his arm draped comfortably over your shoulders.

Your phone is connected to the car speakers and it’s currently playing a ballad. He hears you hum softly but his mind drifts elsewhere, somewhere between the quiet beauty of the moment and the thoughts that have been building for weeks—maybe even longer.

It started with that whole Yoongi Marry Me thing. Who knew that cheeky little “bring the documents” quip he said in one live will set off a whole ass thing with ARMY. Or with the whole kpop industry, modesty aside.

Almost everyday the phrase is repeated to him, especially by the members (fuckin Taehyung!). Fans have been showing up to concerts in veils. Chats are filled to the brim with that proposal whenever any of the members goes live. Even when he is not there.

It’s all been fun and games until you. Until you said it. And you had to keep saying it, then suddenly it didn’t feel like a joke anymore. He started thinking he wouldn’t mind it. Like at all.

You’ve planted a seed in his brain that just kept blooming and blooming. Seeing all the wedding chapels in Las Vegas only served as potent fertilizer. And now the concept has fully blossomed in his heart and taken root in his mind.

He feels the warmth of you leaning into him, your breathing soft and steady, your humming so sweet, and everything about this moment feels… right. More right than any plan he’s ever made, more perfect than anything he could have mapped out for himself. It hits him then, with a kind of clarity that almost startles him.

He’s done with waiting. Done with the endless planning, the careful timelines, the stream of approvals needed for every thing he wanted to do. This, right here, is his everything. And for the first time, the idea of doing something spontaneous doesn’t terrify him. It excites him. A whole life with you excites him.

And fuck, if it’s good enough for Michael Jordan…

He glances at you, the way your eyes reflect the soft, fading light, and something roars in his chest—an overwhelming certainty that he can’t hold back anymore. He isn’t one for grand, impulsive gestures, but this doesn’t feel impulsive at all. It feels inevitable.

“What if we just… did it?” he asks, tone light, but heavy with intention.

You tilt your head, looking up at him with that curious smile he loves. “Did what?”

His fingers tighten ever so slightly on your shoulder as he turns to face you fully, feeling a rush of nervous excitement. “Got married. Right now. No more waiting, no more planning.”

He sees the surprise flash in your eyes, the slight parting of your lips as you process what he’s just said. He waits, letting the words sink in, watching as the curiosity in your eyes slowly fades into something else.

“You’re not joking?” you whisper, your voice tinged with disbelief.

He shakes his head, the last of the setting sun casting a golden glow over the both of you. "No. I’ve… we have planned everything in my life, but this... with you, I don’t want to plan anymore. Because what good are plans if you’re not gonna be in them, with me.”

He continues, voice more certain, committed. “I wanna do it. Now. Tonight. Let’s drive to the chapel, and if you’re ready... Let's get married.”

He watches your reaction closely, his heart pounding, but not out of fear. He’s not afraid anymore. He no longer needs to hide behind liquid courage to give you little hints of what he has been feeling deep inside. He knows what he wants—what has been right in front of him this whole time. And then, just to lighten the weight of the moment, he smiles, a small chuckle escaping him.

“Besides, I’m pretty sure we’ve got your eomma’s blessing already. She’d probably drive us there herself if she knew what I was thinking.”

You laugh, that soft sound that always makes his chest tighten in adoration. The way you smile at him now—there’s no hesitation in it, only the same certainty that he feels. The city lights flicker to life behind you, but all he can see is you and your bright, sparkly eyes. And how he wishes that you would grant him the eternity of looking into them.

“Let’s do it,” you nod at him, your voice steady and sure. “Right now.”

His heart soars. He bites his lip, squeezing your shoulder, and with one last glance at the fading sun, he slides off the hood of the car, offering you his hand.

As you hop down, he drops to one knee. Taking your hand, fingers delicately closing in on the paper ring that he placed on your finger earlier in the day.

“Y/n, marry me?”

“You sure you don't want me saying ‘Yoongi, marry me‘ instead. Has a better ring to it…”

“Hajimaaa! Why you gotta ruin the moment?!”

“Sorry, ok ok, do it again.” You try to placate him with a quick press of your lips to his forehead.

He shakes his head at you. Eyes narrowed, but fond. Fond in the way your eyes sparkle with glee, even as you bite your bottom lip. Fond in the way you look at him like he hung the moon and the stars in the sky and you know what, he would hang the entire galaxy for you if you asked him to.

So, no more waiting. No more planning.

He finally asks: “Baby, will you marry me?”

And you finally answer: “Yes!”

Epilogue

Jimin’s POV

Why is Tinder so, so dry? Jimin curses and contemplates tossing his phone in the trash.

But then his phone pings and when he looks at the notification, he sees that he is added in a Kakao group chat.

Okay. He checks the members curiously. It’s with you and Yoongi hyung.

What are you fuckers up to this time?

Tbh, he was still kinda annoyed that neither of you had told him anything after what went down at the club. He literally babysat your dejected boytoy and had to crisis PR the shit out of the situation because Yoongi had to get slightly Agust D.

And seriously, how can you even stay mum to him of all people. He has listened to your every woe and whine for months about how Yoongi can’t even see you as more than a friend. Newsflash, he is obsessed with you! He has witnessed Yoongi’s pining for years and talked to him countless times to confess. ‘Cause, newsflash: you’re obsessed with him, too!

Did his attempts at playing matchmaker work? Who knows? But damn did he try. Playing cupid for the two most emotionally constipated people he knows hasn’t been easy. So after everything he has done in the background for you two idiots, how dare you keep him in the da–

His thoughts are interrupted by three pings as three messages come in rapid succession.

First, a location pin:

📍The Little White Wedding Chapel, 1301 S Las Vegas Blvd, Las Vegas, NV

Then, a text from Yoongi that made him smile so wide.

Yoongi: Get your ass here right now we need a witness.

And lastly, yours that made his grin even wider.

You: Yoongi’s marrying me!!!

-THE END-

A/N: Thank you so, so much you beautiful human for reading this story. I am forever grateful that you decided to explore this silly little world with me.

I would love to hear from you! Please leave a comment or consider reblogging if you liked it. Til next!

Here's my new MYG x Reader story if you want more. :)

427 notes · View notes

vanesycho · 2 months ago

Note

hii can i request for jeno and breeding kink? if possible 🙂‍↕️ thank u and have a nice day!

author's note:there was someone else who wrote this request, I don't know if you are the same person but the previous request was deleted, im sorry about that😭😭If it's the same person, thanks for writing again🫶🏻🤍(and for your patience too🤍)

Warning:Smut, p in v, breeding kink

wc:0,8k

"If I cum inside you..."

"Jeno..Don't- I...Fuck..Don't cum inside me.."

This was actually something that happened really fast, okay when you were planning to meet at home, you hadn't expected it to lead to sex later on. But you found yourself in this state because Jeno's hands weren't staying still while watching a movie.

"Jeno! I can't focus." You complained and pushed the hand that was caressing your breasts away. Jeno rolled his eyes and moved closer to you, "I can offer you more fun than a movie, baby..." you tried to ignore his whisper in your ear, his hand slid down your shoulder, you held your breath, every time you tried to do something together, the result was the same. You, Jeno, naked and completely exhausted. You didn't want to let it happen this time, but his touches were forcing you.

This time, his hand went to your leg and started caressing insides, you swallowed when he brushed a few strokes against your pussy through your clothes. "Hm...Not rejecting?" another whisper. He slid his hand inside the shorts you were wearing and easily reached your pussy, "Jeno-" a 'shh' sound came to your ear, making your whole body tremble. "Relax. Now lie back." he made you lie down on the couch and took his place on top of you. And the rest was obvious. In no time, you were both naked.

"Fuck- wait- don't you have a condom with you?" Jeno paused his cock at your entrance, looking at you before he pushed it inside, smirking when he saw the fear in your eyes. "Is it necessary? I promise I'll be careful, baby." You let out a loud moan as he quickly thrust his cock into your pussy without even letting you say anything. "J-jeno.." Jeno swallowed hard, feeling you completely, unprotected for the first time was driving him crazy. “Fuck…I should have done this sooner..” he moaned deeply, spreading your legs wider and watching how his cock entered you, the wetness of your pussy wrapping around Jeno’s cock, he took his time, bringing his hand to your clit and starting to caress it, watching how your body trembled and moved beneath his touch.

As your hips started to move against him, he pressed his hand against your stomach, making you stay still, he pushed his whole length back in and let out another deep moan “Fuck- if I knew it would feel this good...Your nice tight pussy..” he didn’t continue the sentence, thoughts raced through his mind as he continued to move slowly inside you “If I cum inside you...” feeling you this raw brought thoughts he couldn’t even imagine, excitement began to wash over him, you looked up at Jeno, letting out a whimper “Jeno... move.. please...” he grinned, moving to your neck and giving it a hard bite “Oh don’t worry, I’ll make it feel so good baby, I’ll make sure you take all my cum inside you.”

Your mouth remained slightly open as he sped up his hip movements, you could barely speak as the hard and fast movements destroyed your pussy "Jeno..Don't- I...Fuck..Don't cum inside me.." he was too focused on his own pleasure to listen to what you were saying, he pulled back after pressing a kiss behind your ear. He held your waist tightly, his movements were erratic, rough, as if he had lost himself inside your pussy. Jeno threw his head back and swallowed hard, muttering another curse. Just thinking about the idea of cumming inside you could make him cum early, but he didn’t, he wanted to do this slowly, with pleasure. Until he had memorized every inch of your insides.

“Faster..Fuck, do you want to drive me crazy?” A giggle escaped his mouth when he heard you complain, his movements sped up, watching with pleasure how your mouth started to part and started to moan. “Weren’t you the one who said you couldn’t focus on the movie a moment ago? Are you eager for my cock now?” You looked at his smirk with your slightly slitted eyes, “Shut up.” Jeno wet his lips and leaned in closer, kissing your lips, not moving away from you too much, keeping your bodies close and his thrusts getting harder. Jeno was just breathing heavily while you whined and moaned loudly. “I’m close…Jeno, please..” he wrapped one of your legs around his waist, feeling himself getting closer and he definitely had no plans to take his dick out of your pussy.

After a while, you came around his cock, your body relaxed and let go, but you realized Jeno still hadn’t stopped. “Jeno-” Jeno had already released his juices inside you before you could finish your sentence. He then pulled out and looked at his own cum flowing from inside your pussy, when his gaze came to you he saw your gaze towards him. “Fuck I’m sorry I couldn’t help it. Feeling you without any protection..” he let out a deep breath and laid down on top of you, you let out a deep breath and stroked his hair. “You ruined another one of our movie nights.” he chuckled against your neck. “That’s not the only thing I ruined.”

#nct imagines #nct reactions #nct dream imagines #nct smut #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct dream reactions #jeno smut #jeno imagines #jeno x reader #nct jeno #jeno scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct dream jeno

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theostrophywife · 10 months ago

Text

little dove.

pairing: tom riddle x reader.

song inspiration: if u think i'm pretty by artemas.

author's note: can't believe this is my first tom fic, but please know that this man awakens the feral, unhinged side of me. let me slytherin to your chamber of secrets and ride that basilisk tommy 😏

This was a stupid, idiotic, and terrible idea.

Unfortunately for you, those were the conditions in which Harry and Ron worked best under. In your defense, you tried to talk them out of the prank, but the boys were determined to leave their mark. You suppose you could’ve told Hermione, but you didn’t want to interrupt her date with Draco. When it came to talking sense into their thick skulls, you were completely and utterly alone.

After much argument, you finally accepted that you weren’t going to get anywhere with Harry and Ron. The only thing you could do was supervise their reckless pursuits and minimize the damage as much as possible. So here you were, sneaking into the dungeons under the cover of darkness.

“This will be the best seventh year prank yet,” Ron whispered as he trailed close behind. “Fred and George are going to be so jealous.”

“If we don’t die from the cold first,” Harry quipped sarcastically, slightly shivering underneath the invisibility cloak draped over the three of you. “The Slytherins really take the whole cold-blooded thing quite literally, don’t they?”

You huffed in response, trying your best to muffle your steps. “Can we please focus on not getting caught? We need to be in and out of the dungeons before the prefects start their patrols.”

The boys nodded as you inched further into the serpent’s nest. Luckily, the corridor that housed Professor Snape’s office was empty. You held your breath as you began to unravel the wards protecting the entrance. You had to give it to him, Snape was incredibly thorough when it came to his security measures. Good thing you were an expert on unlocking charms.

With a final flick of your wand, the door gave way and creaked open. Ron and Harry wore matching grins as the three of you spilled into the office. Closing the door behind you, Harry’s green eyes crinkled with mischief.

“Let’s get started.”

Surprisingly, Harry and Ron’s half-arsed plan was actually coming together. The three of you worked in silence, the boys handing you paints and supplies at the snap of your fingers. After a few more strokes, you flicked your paintbrush over the wall and cocked your head to examine your work. Nearly every single surface of Professor Snape’s office was covered in your illustrations—technically vandalism according to wizarding law.

The drawings, imbued with the same magic that powered the moving portraits, depicted caricatures of Professor Snape, all of which scurried like rats along the walls, hurtling globs of paint at one another. The head of Slytherin house was going to have a fit when he saw what you’d done to his office. You almost wished you could be there in the morning to witness the look on Snape’s face when he uncovered your masterpiece.

“Bloody brilliant!” Ron exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear as he packed up the paints and brushes. “You’ve really outdone yourself, Y/N.”

Harry chuckled and nudged your shoulder. “See? You do have a taste for trouble, after all.”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Yeah, yeah. Now help me clean up so we can go.”

As you carefully wiped the office of any trace of the three of you, Harry suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. You looked up, ready to scold him for idling, but fell silent when you saw the panicked expression on his face.

“What is it?” you asked quietly.

Harry held up his hand and slowly opened the door, peeking out into the darkness. A muffled clicking that sounded an awful lot like footsteps echoed from the corridor. “Do you hear that?”

Ron cursed lowly. “The prefects must’ve started their rounds early.”

You peered over Harry’s shoulder and felt the color drain from your face. “It’s not the prefects,” you said, swallowing thickly. “It’s the Head Boy.”

Both the boys swore under their breaths. You steeled yourself, knowing that panic was not going to get you anywhere. As quietly as possible, you retrieved Harry’s cloak and beckoned the boys underneath it.

“We’re so fucked,” Ron mumbled.

“No, we’re not,” you chided sternly. “Get under the cloak and don’t make a sound.”

Harry scooted in beside you, clutching the invisible fabric over his shoulders. “Do you have a plan?”

You nodded. “Run like hell and don’t get caught.”

“That’s a bloody terrible plan!” said Ron.

With a glare, you tugged the redhead underneath the cloak. “Then please, let us hear your brilliant idea, Ronald.” Ron stayed quiet, his freckled face etched with fear. “That’s what I thought. Now stay close and for Merlin’s sake, try not to stomp around like a damned erumpent.”

Stupid.

Idiotic.

Terrible.

Every ounce of apprehension you felt earlier that night came rushing back as the three of you cowered in the darkness. It was pitch-black in the corridor, but you didn’t dare cast lumos for fear of getting caught. Thankfully, a small light up ahead provided you with a vague sense of direction. You remembered passing the lit emerald sconce on the way down. All you had to do was get back to the entrance without running into the head boy.

The glimmer of hope became clearer and clearer as you neared the stairs that would lead you out of the dungeons. You were so close. Barely a few metres away from freedom.

Just as you thought you were safe, Ron knocked into a table, sending one of the snake sculptures guarding the alcove to the common room tumbling. The marble cracked against the concrete, breaking into a million pieces just like your hope of escaping.

“Run!” you huffed, urging the boys to go on.

A solid plan if you hadn’t been nearly blind in the dark. You could hear the shuffling of footsteps beside you. Three sets belonging to you, Harry, and Ron, while an unknown fourth inched closer and closer. Whoever it was wasn’t running, but they were definitely in pursuit.

You stumbled through the dark, nearly tripping over your own feet. From up ahead, you could hear Harry and Ron urging you on. As you broke into a sprint, paints and brushes came spilling out of your satchel. Under any other circumstance, you would’ve abandoned your art supplies, but leaving them behind would fully incriminate the three of you. In the time it took to pick up the damning evidence, you stopped hearing your friend’s voices.

It would’ve worried you, but in all honesty, you were relieved. If you could no longer hear the boys, then that meant they made it safely out of the serpent’s nest. A feat in itself given their track record. Those two couldn’t be inconspicuous if they tried. Without the need to worry for them, you were confident that you’d be able to slip out undetected.

In hindsight, you were perhaps a tad bit overconfident. You were great at sneaking around, but apparently not good enough to slip the head boy’s notice. As soon as you started to creep past the dormitories, you ran into a wall that hadn’t been there before.

Except it wasn’t a wall.

It was a strong, firm chest. A chest that belonged to none other than Tom Riddle.

Leave it to your terrible luck to run straight into the arms of the scariest boy in the castle.

Determined not to cower, you lifted your chin defiantly and faced Tom head on. “Head Boy,” you greeted in acknowledgment.

Emerald eyes unflinchingly surveyed you, that intense green stare sweeping from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet. Beneath the faint glow of the Black Lake pouring in through the stained glass windows, you could’ve easily mistaken Tom Riddle for an angel. He looked like an illustration straight out of the Sistine Chapel. Beautiful, intricate, perfect.

Yet utterly terrifying.

Danger prickled at your skin as Tom’s lips curved into a sinister smirk. “My, my, what do we have here? A little dove out of her cage.”

You bristled as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his voice a seductive caress. It was low, husky, and a little rough around the edges. Just like its speaker. Tom plucked a paintbrush out of your satchel and examined it between his fingers. “I saw what you did to Snape’s office. Quite artistic, aren’t you?”

A part of you considered denying it, but it would’ve been a futile attempt. There was paint splattered all over your skirt and flecks of it were already drying on your skin. Tom had quite literally caught you red handed. The only thing you could do was to own up to it and face whatever consequences came as a result of your foolish actions.

“Are you going to turn me in to the headmaster?”

Tom shook his head, his brown wavy hair falling over one eye. “Not until I catch your two helpers.”

Panic seized your body. It may be too late for you, but Tom hadn’t seen either Harry or Ron. There was a chance they could come out of this unscathed.

“I was alone,” you declared with your chin held high. “There was no one else with me.”

Anger contorted Tom’s handsome features. Those emerald eyes lit up in flames as he backed you into a wall, bracketing each side of your head with his arms as he leaned down. You tried not to cower under the intensity of his stare, but gods was it hard. Tom towered a good foot over you and as if that weren’t intimidating enough, he also blocked every possibility of escape with his body.

“Don’t lie to me, little dove,” Tom growled, tilting your chin up with one hand. “I heard three sets of footsteps running through the corridor.”

You swallowed thickly, praying to Merlin to grant you the ability to flawlessly lie your arse off. “I swear, it was just me. No one else. I did it all by myself.”

Tom hummed as if unconvinced. “Well, you’re certainly on your own now. Your idiotic friends left you down in the dungeons all alone. Don’t you know that dangerous things lurk in the dark around here, Y/N?”

“Like I said, I was alone.”

“So it appears,” Tom said, flashing you a smile that told you he was the most dangerous thing lurking in the dungeons. “Poor little dove wandering the serpent’s nest all on her own. Hasn’t anyone told you that us Slytherins have teeth?”

“Why?” In an idiotic surge of courage, the words slipped out of your mouth before you could pull them back in. “Do you plan on biting me, Tom?”

Tom grabbed your jaw roughly, making you whimper in surprise. “Insolent girl. You’ll learn your lesson soon enough.”

Without warning, he grabbed you by the elbow and started dragging you down the corridor. At first, you were certain that Tom was taking you to Dumbledore’s office, but as the minutes ticked by, you realized that you were going in the opposite direction. If anything, he was leading you right into the heart of the dungeons.

Tom’s grip tightened to the point of pain as he guided you up a set of twin staircases, practically flying up the steps on the right side, which you assumed led to the dormitories. It had a similar layout to the Gryffindor common room, except instead of leading into the towers, the narrow hallway opened into an intricate maze in the lower levels of the castle.

Nestled into the underbelly of Hogwarts was a large, dark room that was surrounded by more stained glass walls that looked out into the Black Lake. A school of fish swam by as Tom ushered you through the door, which he promptly locked behind him with a series of complicated spells you had no hope of deciphering.

You were trapped. Alone in a room. With Tom Riddle.

Upon closer inspection, you surmised that this had to be his private suite. It was twice as large as your dorm back in the towers and extremely private. A luxury that only the Head Boy and Head Girl enjoyed.

“You’ve been very bad, little dove,” Tom reprimanded. "You deserve to be punished, but I’ll tell you what. Give up the names of your accomplices and I might find it in my heart to go easy on you.”

His drawling voice echoed in the bedroom as he leaned back against his desk, twirling his wand between his fingers. The look he leveled at you is enough to awaken your fear. Plus another emotion that you couldn’t quite place your finger on.

Merlin, Tom was sizing you up like he was the lion and you were the helpless deer frolicking through the meadow. You steeled yourself and doubled down on your lies.

“There was no one else, Tom.”

He smirked as though you’d given him the answer he’d hoped to hear. Tom stopped twirling his wand, tucking it away in his back pocket as he stalked over to you. “Very well, then. I suppose you’ll just have to endure their punishments too.”

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. It occurred to you that while you had your wand, you were completely and utterly defenseless against Tom. It should’ve scared you shitless, but instead you felt a strange sort of thrill as he came closer. “What…what sort of punishment?”

A smirk curved at his lips as he fisted your hair between his fingers and tilted your head back to meet his gaze. “I think you know, babydoll.”

Heat ignited in your veins as your tongue darted out to sweep across your bottom lip. “This is crazy,” you whispered. “Shouldn’t you be telling Dumbledore? Snape? Someone in charge?”

“I’m the one in charge,” Tom growled as he shoved you against his bookshelf. Your back hit solid wood, disturbing the neatly organized tomes behind you. “You snuck into my dungeons, under my watch, and defaced my home. I will dole out your punishment as I see fit.”

“And if I refuse?” You asked, hoping that you emulated the bravery that your house was infamous for.

Tom pressed his body against yours, leaving barely a hairsbreadth between you as he flashed you a feral smile. “It’s laughable that you still think you have a choice.”

“I could scream bloody murder. Wake the entire castle up and alert everyone that you're holding a fellow student against her will."

“You could,” Tom mused as amusement flickered in his eyes. “But we both know you won’t.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“You’d never risk such a scandalous act to go on your record. First vandalizing Professor Snape’s office, then sneaking into the Head Boy’s dorm after curfew? You’re on a downward spiral, aren’t you, little dove?”

“I didn’t sneak into your dorm. You dragged me in here.”

“Please,” Tom said with a scoff. “Let’s not pretend that you don’t want to be here. I’ve been watching you, you know. The perfect little Gryffindor good girl. You think you have everyone fooled, but not me.” You groaned as he pinned your hips in place, sliding his thigh between your legs.

“You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me in class? Bending over in that tiny little skirt of yours hoping I’ll glance your way? Leaving the buttons to your blouse undone so you can give me a view of that lacy red bra? Biting your lip when you’re thinking dirty thoughts about me in class?”

You flushed at his spot on assessment. Tom might be right on the mark, but you weren’t about to admit that to him. Not when your pride was on the line. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Dirty little liar.” Tom whispered against the shell of your ear. “You know, your mental shields are impressive, but it’s like you can’t help yourself when I’m around. You’re practically broadcasting your filthy fantasies every time we’re in the same room.”

Fuck.

This was bad.

This was really fucking bad.

How many times had you sat in class staring at Tom while thinking the filthiest, dirtiest thoughts about him? Tom bending you over a desk. Tom slipping his fingers under your skirt. Tom making you scream with his head between your thighs.

All this time, he had complete access to those dirty daydreams.

“That’s right, doll. You may be a powerful occlumens, but you’re no match for my legilimency.” He chuckled darkly, caressing your jaw.

A heavy pressure weighed down the constraints of your defenses as Tom poked around in your mind, teasing and taunting as a lover would. The act of him prodding around in your subconscious was oddly sensual, mixing pain and pleasure together as he waited for you to yield.

There’s no use hiding now, Tom whispered into your subconscious. I’ve already seen inside your mind, doll. And your thoughts are just as fucking filthy as mine.

Glimpses of your deepest, darkest fantasies flashed through your mind. The images were a never ending rolodex of filth and smut. Tom fucking you like his perfect little slut. Tom panting above you as he spread your legs. Tom working you with his fingers until you were a sobbing, whimpering mess.

He was right. You were shameless.

But so was he. A new image of you on your knees while Tom unbuckled his belt, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as you stared up expectantly took center stage. Since it was from his point of view, you could only assume that he was showing you one of his fantasies. It was oddly satisfying. Tom was basking in the depravity with you, sharing his equally fucked up thoughts.

“Tom…” you breathed, leaning into his touch as he continued to pin you against the wooden bookshelf.

“Not Tom,” he grunted gruffly. “You’ll address me properly from now on, little dove.”

This was so fucked up and yet so hot at the same time. You were so turned on you could hardly speak. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s better, doll.” Tom declared with a smirk. “Now that I’ve been inside of your head, I plan on being inside you in every other way as well. Starting with that pretty little mouth of yours. On your knees, little dove.”

A strange sense of deja vu washed over you as you knelt onto the floor. The concrete nipped at your knees, but you welcomed the pain. It kept you centered as your body buzzed with anticipation. You watched as Tom unbuckled his belt, deft fingers slowly sliding his boxers down as he gripped himself with one hand.

With a smirk, Tom brushed his thumb over your bottom lip, looking down at you with lust blown eyes. “Open wide, babydoll.”

Tom pumped himself slowly. The sight of his cock made your mouth water, your head spinning and dizzy with desire as you tried to calculate how you were going to take all of him. The tip of his cock glistened with precum as he rubbed over it. Tom was thick, long, and absolutely delicious. You groaned as he rubbed his head over your lips, the salty taste of his arousal resting on your tongue.

“I won’t ask again,” Tom warned. “Be a good girl and open your mouth. I’ll make you regret it if you don’t.”

“Yes, sir.”

A satisfied smile graced his handsome face before he shoved his way in. Your lips parted for him, opening your mouth wider as you accommodated his size. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You nodded obediently, eyes filling with tears as you took Tom all the way back. He fisted your hair in one hand and rocked against your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. A garbled sound crawled out of your chest, but it was soon silenced with Tom’s impatient thrusts.

“Fuck,” Tom cursed. “So wet and warm. Such a perfect little throat. What a pity that I’m about to ruin it.”

Ruin was an understatement. Tom fucked your throat with precise thrusts, angling deeper and deeper and groaning as you gagged on his cock. He was so deep that you could feel him bruising your tonsils. The more he abused your throat, the wetter your pussy got. You were practically soaked as you moaned on his cock, sucking your cheeks in and bobbing your head up and down to take more of him.

“Such pretty noises,” Tom said, his fingers curling through your hair to the point of pain. He tugged at your scalp, forcing you to meet his eyes as you sucked him off. “If your mouth feels this good around my cock, then I can’t even imagine what your cunt will feel like.”

You groaned in pleasure, making Tom’s eye roll back from the vibrations. Controlled, compulsive, and perfectly composed Tom Riddle was fading before you, replaced by a man driven only by his base desires. He was an animal lost to lust and so were you.

Tom squeezed your throat, groaning when he felt himself moving beneath his grip. “Your throat was made to be fucked, doll. You like that, don’t you? You love it when I’m rough.”

You struggled to nod in acknowledgement, saliva sloppily collecting in the corner of your mouth as you continued to let him use you for his own pleasure. Tom chuckled at your pathetic attempt to respond. “Don’t bother answering, little dove. You won’t be able to speak when I’m done with you anyways.”

The filth flowing effortlessly from his mouth made you clench your thighs together. Tom threw his head back, those pretty curls tousled and plastered against his sweat soaked skin. A moan tore through his chest as he got closer and closer, fucking into your mouth with reckless abandon. He chased after his orgasm, shuddering as he spurted hot ribbons down your throat.

“Fuck. You see what you do to me? Swallow, doll. Every single fucking drop.”

The fantasies that you’ve been harboring for the past few years finally came to fruition, but none of it came close to reality. Tom was a fucking god. A masterpiece coming undone above you. You’ve never seen such a beautiful sight. All the artwork in the world would’ve paled in comparison to witnessing Tom Riddle at his most vulnerable.

In awe and wonder, you looked up at him with mascara streaked eyes, tears and saliva staining your face. Tom hauled you to your feet and claimed you with his mouth. The taste of him was still on your lips, but Tom didn’t seem to mind as he parted your lips with his tongue. The kiss was neither sweet nor innocent. It was dark and dangerous and there was an edge of possessiveness in the way he demanded your submission. Almost like he was marking his territory.

Tongues, teeth, and lips met with a clash as Tom carried you over to his desk. His books and journals clattered to the ground as his teeth grazed the column of your throat. The taste of him was intoxicating and you licked, sucked, and nipped at every inch of skin he allowed access to. You gasped into his mouth as Tom parted your legs, not bothering to warn you as he palmed your soaked panties.

Your core clenched as he slipped a finger inside of your pussy. A squelching sound filled the room as Tom added another digit, pumping you full and fucking you with his middle and pointer fingers as you begged for more. He knew exactly what he was doing. Tom studied you like one of his books, with meticulous precision and alarming intensity, pouring all of his efforts and attention into making your body sing.

It wasn’t long before that familiar warmth singed your veins, your moans growing louder and more desperate as you clawed at Tom’s back. You were so, so close. You were practically riding his hand as he brought you closer to the precipice. Just when you were about to come, Tom pulled away and denied you the orgasm.

“Don’t be mistaken, doll. This is still a punishment.” Tom said as you whined from the loss. He silenced your complaints by bending you over his desk.

“Tom, please—“ You clawed at the wood as he lined up and filled you with one sharp thrust. “Oh my fucking gods.”

Tom gripped your hips, the slap of his skin against yours echoing in the room as he fucked you from behind. He was relentless, thrusting in and out and arching your back while he railed the absolute life out of you. It wasn’t long before you were getting close again. The sharp angles of his thrusts had him hitting all the right spots, making your knees weak and your pussy sensitive from the roughness of his actions. Sensing that you were close, he rutted into you, letting that tension uncoil before ripping the orgasm away from you once more. You whined, fresh tears soaking your cheeks as you chased after that high.

“Like I said, this is still a punishment,” Tom taunted, slowing his thrusts to a snail’s pace. “That’s two orgasms I’ve taken from you, which leaves you with two more. Four for every wall you defaced. It should be twelve, given that you had help, but I’m in a forgiving mood. I think I’ll just spank the other eight out of you instead.”

With your head bowed, you wiped the tears off of your cheeks and braced yourself. You knew that he was telling the truth. To Tom, this was mercy. You should’ve found it sadistic, but you fucking loved it. Maybe you were a masochist. Whatever the case may be, it seemed like the two of you were a match made in heaven.

“I’ll be good,” you whispered hoarsely. Your throat was still raw and sore from earlier. “I’ll happily take the punishment. I promise I’ll be good, sir.”

Tom chuckled darkly, relishing in your submission. His hand came down with a hard smack against your right ass cheek, making you jolt from the contact. Before you could recover, he repeated the action on the left.

“That’s two,” Tom said proudly. “Can you count out the rest, babydoll?”

You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip every time his large hand came down on your ass. His rings bit into the soft flesh of your skin, but it was a delicious sort of pain. One that you could easily become addicted to.

Three. Tom tugged at your hair.

Four. Teeth nipped at your shoulder.

Five. Fingers curled around your throat.

Six. Hips slammed against you.

Seven. Lips trailed down your spine.

Eight. Moans echoed in your ears.

When Tom slipped his fingers down to your clit, your eyes rolled back so hard that you saw fucking heaven. “It’s not a punishment if you’re enjoying yourself so much, little dove. I can feel you creaming my cock. You look so innocent, but you’re just a filthy fucking slut for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes sir.”

“So. Fucking. Perfect.”

Tom emphasized each word with a thrust and worked your clit faster and faster, bringing you to the edge. This time, he didn’t pull back. Tom let the orgasm build until it threatened to wipe you out entirely. White hot heat coursed through your veins as stars exploded behind your eyes. You whimpered through the intensity of the orgasm. After being denied four times, the pleasure ripped through your body so fiercely that you nearly blacked out.

“Fuck, let me fill you up,” Tom growled. “Take it, doll. I want you dripping with my cum.”

“Yes, yes, oh gods. Please cum inside of me, sir.”

Tom released a guttural grunt, gripping your hips in place as he filled you to the brim. Nothing in the world compared to the sensation of Tom filling you with his warm, wet cum. You glanced behind you and found him staring intently as he slipped out of you, stuffing his cum back into your pussy as it dripped down your folds. You bit your lip, utterly aroused by how fucking sexy this man was.

His gaze met yours, a proud smile curving against his lips as he swept you off your feet and into his arms. “I think I’ll keep you, little dove.”

#i welcome him would open arms and open legs #tom riddle #tom riddle smut #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fic

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