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xerotiny · 1 month ago

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The Lewd Rituals of a Typical Day // Our Precious #6

The Lewd Rituals of a Typical Day (Our Precious #6)

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Pairing(s): main - Park Seonghwa x Reader. Side - Reader x Jeong Yunho, Reader x Kang Yeosang

Warning: smut, hardcore smut, soft dom!seonghwa, dom!yunho, dom master!yeosang, sub!reader/slave!reader, breast stimulation, teasing, biting and marking, DD/LG, seonghwa has a feeding kink (does not overlap with fat fetish), praise kink, food play, unprotected sex, fingering, cock warming, thigh riding, nipple play, bits of master-slave dynamic, rough sex, manhandling, cum play/cum shot, dirty talk/degradation (just know yunho has a filthy mouth), size training (vaginal), etc.

Note: do not proceed if you’re uncomfortable or triggered by any aforementioned tags.

Gist: it’s the weekend and you finally get the time to spend it with your “boyfriends”.

Taglist: @t3kandson @therealcuppicake @sebastianswhore13 @solisyeah

Total Word Count: n/a

Part Three [6.3]: That's a Long Stretch

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Reader (ft. Choi San, Jung Wooyoung, Song Mingi)

Warning: dom!yunho, sub!reader, fingering, size training, spit play, degradation, dirty talk, frottage (non-penetrative sex), etc.

Song Rec: Cloud9 by Alex Lustig ft. Makk Mikkael, Night After Night by Black Atlass

Gist: Yunho's and Mingi's blow up ruins the peace of your evening, what's even more disturbing is that they're feuding over you. The aftermath of their altercation leads to Yunho fucking out his frustration on you.

Word Count: 12,347

"Fuck, marry, kill," you drag your words to the point of slurring them with enthusiasm and tease.

"Alright, but what are my options?" San mumbles.

"Wooyoung, Yeosang and Jongho," you mutter the bits, clasping your teeth on your lower lip to prevent any further noises slipping off your tongue.

"What in the fuck—these options are skewed," San whines, narrowing his eyes on you. "But gun to my head, fuck Jongho, marry Yeosang, and kill Wooyoung."

You mimic a pesky gasp, "you'd kill your boyfriend?"

"We're not dating," San deadpans, fingers pressing along your calves. "In the current times, we would probably go by some silly term—oh, like fuck buddies."

"Does he know that?" you pace your words slow, taking in the slightly twitch on his face as you mention it.

San begins with a little shrug, "One might argue that I may—okay, you're so irrelevant right now. I thought we were playing twenty-one questions." as his voice raises at you, he rolls his eyes and lets a curl tug at his lips. "It's my turn now, isn't it?"

"I guess," you shrug your shoulders and lean back onto the armrest of the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

You hear San musing in mere mumbles before he speaks up, "who in our loft, given the opportunity, would you be interested in dating or getting serious with?"

"We're not in middle school, San," you joke, slightly raising your head to meet his eyes, which were fixed on you. "You already know it, don't you?" you mutter monotonously, groaning, "geez, you just want me to say it out loud."

"Accept it, Angel," he gushes, his dimples popping on his cheeks, "you like him. You turn into a sixteen-year-old when he's around you."

"I so do not."

You pout and look away; the alluring haze of sunset shines over every surface in the living room, including your phone kept on the coffee table. Spending your evening with San was never on your bingo card, but when every other person in the house had gone out to carry on with their nightly plans, you had no choice. San worked as a bartender at a local bar, he had no where to be until the dawn of the night. So, he was the only one keeping you company. Though, you weren't exactly alone with him; Wooyoung was cooped up in his room, his and San's room, but whatever, he had locked himself in and no one knew what he was doing.

To tally your thoughts, it was you, San and Wooyoung in the loft. Touché. You weren't familiar with San, and him suggesting a game of twenty one questions, wasn't a bad idea. It was actually helping you two to bond with each other. In much more sterner perspective, you couldn't really get Yeosang and your's session out of your mind; you weren't sure if it was his personality which was unforgettable or the fact that he never really got those orbs out of you. He'd be a jerk if he did it on purpose. Maybe he left them in because that was his way of punishing you. Oh, he really was a dick if that was his intention.

Every time you moved on the couch, you could feel the balls rub against each other and your walls, clenching your cunt around them to stimulate a plodding orgasm. You laid on the couch with your legs sprawled onto San's lap. Your phone buzzed with a melodic song — some random song which started playing from your liked songs playlist. The sinking sun, a much euphonic melody in the background, and San's causal touches which drifted along your calves and legs, you were living the best of your evening. Until San teased you with the question you had been dreading to answer.

"There's no harm in admitting it, Angel." San's chortle grows a notch louder, "you're not the first one to have a crush on him. Besides, he definitely likes you back."

You grow eager listening to him, almost as much as to sit up straight and wiggle your legs in his lap. "You think so?"

"He really does," he emphasises and rolls his eyes, "between us, he didn't agree to our proposition at first. You know, the whole sharing thing."

"He didn't?" you gawk, "I thought it was his own suggestion."

San's brows draw in together on his forehead and he mumbles, "just to be on the same page, we're talking about Jongho, right?"

"I mean," you look away, twirling a tendril of your hair around your finger, "Jongho is a great guy. I admire him. But..."

"I'm kidding, I know you were thinking Yunho in your head," he leans back on the couch, smirking at you. "I was talking about him anyway."

"It's just—it's something about him, you know. He drives me insane," you purr, "he'd be doing nothing, and I'd still drool over him. He will be drinking his morning coffee, and I'll be getting wet just watching him drink it."

"T-M-I Angel," San spells out, eyeing you with an amused gaze, "and on an honest note, you, my friend, are dickmatised." his lips flip into a frown, "you got dicked down by him once, and now you're obsessed. Like, his dick was so good it permanently altered your brain chemistry, forcing you to worship him."

"I hate you for being so right," you grumble, "you're absolutely right. It all makes sense, whatever you're stating. Have I really been turned into a ditz who likes to suck dicks?"

San nods, his lips casing into a soft pout, "yet I've never gotten mine sucked from you."

You roll your eyes, slumping back down on the couch, "don't ask me. After getting viciously throat fucked by Yeosang, I don't have the energy to."

"Did not asked for it, though," he mutters, sliding his fingertips along your exposed thighs; his soft touch sends shivers through your cunt, especially since you were still being tortured by the two metallic spheres snugged in there.

"How was your first time with Yeosang, by the way?" genuine curiosity crosses over his face, eyes twinkling into thin lines as his lips curve.

"Surprising, bewildering, insanely unexpected," you muse, rolling out your shoulders; you stare at the ceiling and ponder, "don't mind me, he seems very closed off, reticent even to be into those kinks. No one, not a single soul, in their wildest dreams, would imagine him as someone who dabbles in sadomasochism."

"The quiet ones are always freaky."

You retort, "Wooyoung is freaky. And he's not even quiet."

"My theory can be flawed." He shrugs and slides his hands further up on your inner thighs.

It was not a good idea to wear a skirt. After your "little" session with Yeosang, you got back to your room and changed into your clothes; Yeosang's sweatshirt was kept in your closet, with neat folds and the whiff of his scent mixed with yours. You grabbed whatever you could from your closet, and it turned out to be this outfit: a simple oversized graphic tee, and a plaid skirt. Laziness got the worst of you, so you didn't bother diving back in for better clothing options. Besides, you were beyond lethargic, feeling spent and tired after your affair with Yeosang, to plan your outfit.

When the lunchtime rolled around, Jongho invited you over to his room with the promise of Chinese takeout. So, you spent the lunchtime in his room, the one he shared with Mingi; you ate, watched a random chick-flick movie and halfway through it you started making out with him. Things did not escalate further as Seonghwa barged in and asked Jongho to accompany him to the gym. And so, your boredom drenched evening kicked off. Eventually, it was only you, San and Wooyoung in the apartment. Everyone else had gone out to do their usual routine of a weekend night; Hongjoong was busy at his boutique, Seonghwa went to meet his work colleagues at a restaurant, Jongho was forced outdoors to a frat party by his college friends, and Yeosang said he had to meet a prospect client for some design work. You had no idea where Mingi and Yunho were, though. And their absence was too loud in the loft. Besides, you were even bewildered to know Yeosang, the man who never really left the loft, had gone out to a buzzing cafe at night.

Pouting, you sulked on the couch, with a random book in your hand from your reading heap, and waited around to catch anyone's attention. And you caught San's attention. He found you listlessly lying on the couch, the book in your hand strewn across the coffee table and your phone blasting some songs he had never heard of before. Looking at him and taking a note of his outfit, which by the way, was a simple sweatshirt and joggers, you could tell he had no plans of leaving the apartment any sooner. So, as time ran past its end, you and San got together on the couch and played the very austere game of twenty questions to get to know each other better.

"Well, but I agree. Looks can be deceiving—what are you doing?" you whimper, noticing the warmth of his fingers ascend along your inner thigh and closer to your dripping cunt.

San simply offers you a halfhearted shrug of his shoulders and continues with his ministrations; his fingers trace in straight lines, dipping into your flesh as they tickle your skin. Sitting up straight to your own desperate whims, you catch him with a mischievous smirk across his face. You want to squirm away from his touch but being pushed to your utmost limit on your satisfaction, you stay in place and let him do as he pleases. Some part of you was eager to know how it would unfold. Untamed by your avidity, you wrap one of your hands around his wrist and give him a nudge. A gentle push to have his fingertips graze your wet cunt; you whimper at the soft caress which soon delves into an aggressive stroke of all his fingers.

"You're really wet, sunshine," he mutters under his breath, his eyes fixed on your face. "Let me guess, Yeosang?"

"Yeah," you breathe out, nodding your head lightly, "he—he kept them in..."

San hauls a gentle titter before shifting himself in his place to turn himself around, facing you with an absolute haughty grin. "And you did not take them out because?"

Your body shudders, "because I know he'd punish me for it. And that he's a jerk—he's a jerk behind the whole innocent facade."

A wrinkle in time bubbles out your desperation and San pulls you close to him by your waist; his other hand stays in between your legs, drawling out delicate brushes of his fingers. Halfway propped up against his lap, your legs are folded from your knees while you angle your back in a way to give him better access. He has you trembling under his touch. Willing to the oncoming consequences, you spread your legs wider. The sight in front of him was a sheer delicacy to feast on; your wet panties, showing off the dark patch in the centre and how flimsy material was to wrap around your folds, defining them. Your skirt furls around your waist, fluttering down as San continues to palm your mound through your wet panties.

Tears well in your eyes, ready to pour out any given minute as it becomes too much for you to handle; it reels you back to Yeosang's room, how desperately you were getting aroused, courtesy to the balls he had stuffed in you. You peek at San, lower lip lolling on your chin, and wrap your hand around his neck to pull him in. He hesitates a little when your lips meet his, lapping up and teeth tugging at his lower lip. San continues to rub you through your panties, grumbling into the kiss as his other hand rests gentle on the side of your waist. Starved in lust, you devour his lips, pressing the kiss further into a hot and heavy make out. You pull back only a little to drag your tongue along his chin and up into his parted mouth; his warmth forces you into a frenzy of desperation, your tongue slithering with his and lapping up against every cranny in his mouth.

You start rolling your hips into his hand, wanting more of the heavenly friction his fingers offered. "Fuck, San. Your fingers feel so good."

"Hmmm," he moans softly, and paces the grinds of his fingertips in a placid manner, teasing out your arousal.

Too bothered by his warm tongue wrapping yours, you let him continue with the gentle fidgeting he drawls on to move your panties to the side. You straighten your back and withdraw your tongue from of his mouth; spit glimmers against his tanned skin, it covers up an inch till his chin, more of it dribbling down his lips. Tightening your fingers in the tuft of his hair which sits neatly on the nape of his neck, you push yourself back into the kiss. This time you roll out your tongue over his lips, prompting him to do the same. Both of your tongues tangle into each other, spit drooling down your chins and lips. San pushes the tips of his fingers along your slit, having finally gotten your panties to the side. Your gummy walls clench around the balls, while his forefinger brushes against the nifty chain dangling from your hole. Pulling back and disentangling your tongues, you peer at him with your teary eyes. You wanted to guilt trip him into taking the balls out of you; it was starting to get painful, teasingly painful. For once and for all, you wanted to achieve the high of your release without having been put through the torment.

"Take—take it out, San. Please." you plead with sheer despair, inching your hips forward for his finger to slide up and down your slit.

San grunts through his chest, "I can't—I can't help you, sunshine. Yeosang might discipline both of us, if I do, and he won't be gentle, not at all."

"But—"

"—I know, sunshine. I know," he smiles pitifully and leans in with his tongue sticking out; you pout and roll yours out as well, lapping it up with his until you wrap your lips around his tongue and give it a good suck.

Amidst the heated pleasure, San's forefinger and middle finger prod at your hole, slipping in with ease because you were beyond aroused; your wetness had coated every inch of your folds, making it convenient for him to slide his digits in. When his fingers curl inside you, alongside the snug little orbs, you hold onto his shoulders to keep yourself straight. Nails digging into his skin through his sweatshirt, make you realise how riled you were. Your lips are still wrapped around his tongue and eventually the kiss dwindles to soft suckles of each other's tongues. Squeezing San's shoulders in between your hands, you throw your head back and arch your neck. San takes it as an opportunity to dip his head in and trace light kisses up your throat and then gradually under your jaw. His fingers pushed and pulled, the tips grazing against the balls to stuff them deep in you.

"San, don't stop. Go deep—"

Thud!

"How many times have I asked you not to go there?" a loud voice booms through the vestibule after the door is slammed shut. The mere vibrations echo out to you, startling you and San with the sudden intrusion.

Flinching away from each other, you and San exchange wide eyed gaze before another voice yells back.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry I didn't take your permission before going to meet my girlfriend!"

At this point, you both knew the row between the friends had gotten heated, both sounding too frustrated for any good. You always took Yunho for a soft-spoken guy, the kind who would never raise his voice at anyone; although, you couldn't say the same for Mingi, you always assumed he'd be loud enough in arguments. Unfortunately, you couldn't have been more wrong about your baseless judgements. Yunho's voice was the most prominent one, a little high pitch underlining his coarse and raspy baritone. On the other hand, Mingi muffled his words because of his sonorous voice.

"Are you being fucking serious right now, Mingi?!" Yunho yells, the sound too boisterous for you two.

San ceases the movement of his fingers and pulls his hand away from you; footsteps get heavy, ascending your way. You're shushed by San, his finger on pressing your lips before you could vocalise your concerns. The pair shuffles in, however lost in their own squabble to notice your presence in the living room. Eyes wide and mind in the state of bemusement, you watch Yunho bite down on his lower lip as he storms into the kitchen, Mingi following right behind.

San brings his hand around yours from your lips, tugging on it gently to get your attention, "you do not want to be in this crossfire."

Prompting you by your hand, San drags you from the couch and you willingly follow him upstairs; the two of you hadn't been under the light for Mingi or Yunho to realise you were there. Maybe, they were too fixated on their fiendish disputation to notice anything around them. Your feet are soft on the stairs, preventing any creaking or sounds to usher the two of your presence; San halts himself at the top of the stairs and so do you. There had been an undying urge in you to listen to their stentorian argument, so you acted on your curiosity and leaned against San, both peering into the living room to catch a glimpse of the two hotheads.

"And what, you don't get to derogate me while being a fucking hypocrite!" Mingi squalls.

Yunho retorts with a belittling laugh, "at least that's better than fucking around with a bitch who has no affection for me."

"Keep Lani out of this," Mingi lowers his voice, but it's almost threatening, "I haven't dragged Angel into this. Not yet."

"And dare if you do," Yunho replies, "unlike Lani, Angel has some standards."

"Yeah, I'm sure that whore does."

"What did you say?" Yunho retaliates, his voice booming loud against the four walls.

"Nothing," Mingi sternly replies.

Silence befalls, taking you off guard; you turn to San and whisper with a pout, "what is happening?"

You wanted to voice your concerns you still had the chance to.

"It's one of those times," he mumbles, "they both get too worked up over minor matters. And I don't need to tell you bout this one, do I?"

"Yeah, I got the gist of it from their colourful language, but why me?"

San shrugs, "you know, they both can be really stubborn when it comes to someone..." He takes a deep breath and wraps his arms around your waist, "someone they, ummm, care for."

"Oh..." you trail off, latching yourself onto San's arm and leaning forward to get a good listen to what was happening downstairs, "but it's not like I'm purposely trying to wedge a fight between them."

San takes a deep breath, heaving it out with partial unease as you push your chest into his arms; your tits smush up against his bicep, the fleshy sensation flustering him to the point where you peek up at him unknowingly and find his cheeks in the prettiest shade of red. He's timid and shy, probably not the kind of guy to initiate anything; even if he does, he will weigh all the consequences in his mind and hesitate to act on his feelings. Though, you're disgruntled by Yunho's and Mingi's argument. It was clear you were the centre topic of their altercation. You had no such intentions however.

"Right—right, you are not. But—"

"—fucking watch your mouth, Mingi" Yunho grunts, disrupting San's sleek words. "Agreed, you and Angel don't get along, though that doesn't mean you'd talk about her in such a vile manner."

"Weren't you talking shit bout Lani before I brought her into this?" Mingi's words reverberate densely in the air, percolating within the dead space, "so it's okay for you to run your mouth but I can't? And the validity of your opinions and judgments is only biased towards me, isn't it? I can't talk about Angel to you because you like—"

"—It doesn't matter. And you're wrong, so wrong. If you're going with that theory, shouldn't I question your affection for Lani too? I'm sure I'm justifying myself well." you could hear Yunho scoff, the disbelief clearly evident. "I don't know what it is that makes my gut twist this way, but I do not trust Lani one bit. Every time I hear about her from you, or from anyone else for that matter, my stomach does a wretched flip, and I don't feel good in my bones. Not at all." There's a pause between his words, as if he was measuring the degree of anguish his speech could cause to Mingi...

In a complete distraught segment of your mind, you were focused on the way San's arm was slotted between your tits and his palm was profusely ghosting its touch along your cunt through the skirt. This might be an off putting notion to many, but the slightly raised voices of Yunho and Mingi were turning you on; had you always have had such kink? Or did it come alive after listening to Yunho defend you with his coarse and rugged vocals? Probably yeah.

You heave out a hot breath, fanning it against San's shoulder when you lean in, almost throwing yourself onto his side. San is taken back, surprised to find you riled over the insistent bickering between the two best friends. Still, as his cock strains in his sweatpants a little tighter, he goes along with it. The nifty touches his fingers cascade through the hem of your skirt and trace under. His fingertips prod against your drenched folds, the flimsy material of panties clinging too close to your skin; he rubs his finger pads along the slit, pressing them harder with each rub.

"San," you mewl, desperate for him to yank out the balls snug in your cunt. "Please, please, please. Take them out."

San breathes in sharp, succumbing to your whines and desperation; but he knows better than to act on his commiseration. "Angel..."

He spells out your name in a delicate haze, almost rupturing every syllable with a yearning of his own. You look up at him, tears swelling in the corners and lower lip jutting out. It could be possible that you were really close to crying. Only if Yeosang was there to see it, after all he finds it pleasurable and delightful when he sees a pretty woman cry. Regardless of your sentiments having affixed on Yeosang, you couldn't resist whining under your breath again, teary eyes glimmering at the man in front of you.

"Please—"

Crash!

The twinkling noise of glass shattering fills up the space between you and San. Perhaps you were on edge when you flinched away from San and grappled holding onto him. To your knowledge, the latter had been taken off guard as well, it was clearly etched on his face and raised eyebrows. Before the two of you could speak up, a door swings open and a high pitched voice comes booming out.

"What's happening...." Wooyoung's eyes go wide for a mere second as his attention rakes over you two and his words die in his throat, "downstairs? If you two are here...who's downstairs?" he whispers, stepping out from behind the door and into the hallway.

You take a minute to notice him; wet hair (almost), and a silk robe around his body. He must've taken a shower. You thought. With gradual steps ahead, he comes to stand in front of you, arms folded over his chest. The robe slips from his shoulder, only enough to give you a glimpse of his chest and the left pec; besides, a swirl of black peeks from underneath. A tattoo? Perhaps.

"Mingi and Yunho," San spells out in his hushed voice, "they're—arguing. A feud. Or whatever. Lani and Angel are involved."

"Oh, I get it." Wooyoung nods in acknowledgment, focus shifting on you, "are you two eavesdropping on them? Cause if my memory serves me right, weren't you two in the living room as well?"

You clear your throat, scuttling away from San by a step, "your memory is sharp. We had to get out of there before the place blew up. That is all."

"That is all?" his lips curve into a smirk, gaze following a straight line to San's pants, "it seems to me, by me I mean by an outside perspective, that you two had your minds set on fucking each other in this very hallway."

"No—"

Your heart drops into your gut; not because Wooyoung had spoken your mind but because you could hear ascending footsteps speeding up the stairs. All of three of you split in a fraction of second, scurrying into your respective rooms. Wooyoung and San were in theirs and you were in yours, back pressed up against the door the moment you closed it behind you. The same heavy and lurking footsteps follow, paddling further down the hallway. You held your breath till you heard a door close thud. It was Mingi. Doesn't require a lot of thought to know who it was. And guessing from Mingi's deliberate storm off, you are sure Yunho would follow him to his room.

That's what you thought.

When you take a minute to compose yourself and step away from the door, you hear the doorknob rattle ever so gently before the door flings open inside and in marches Yunho. Your head spins in its place, wondering how you were pushed up against the door while being entangled in his arms. Time doesn't know its bounds; trapped by his body, you're pushed back into the hard door, and his arms are around your waist, his lips on yours.

How did it happen? Everything's a blur.

The kiss isn't gentle or passionate as it should be, it is rather aggressive and impatient; this isn't how you know Yunho kisses, he's typically slow and likes it sloppy. His kisses give you enough time to adjust to his roughness and warmth. You couldn't say it for this one. Not when he had already shoved his tongue down your throat. Easing yourself against the door, you slant your body along his and grab onto his shoulders to support yourself. He already has his tight grasp on your waist to keep you steady to his ministrations; how sternly he prodded his tongue beyond yours and suffocated you with it.

You want to shove him off. But at the same time, you want to pull him closer to you. You want to feel every inch of his body against yours. Yunho grunts, the mellowed out vibrations strumming through your mouth and heading straight to your pussy; as if the metal orbs weren't enough to stimulate your release. Your arousal drips through your panties, drenching them fully. Hearing little crinkles of his beaded bracelets and necklace, you're left to take a breath of fresh air when he pulls back, his tongue slithers out of your mouth, spit coating every bit of his lips and yours too. Translucent strings of saliva connect your lips to his, falling out in perfect curves till he's leaning back in to abuse your mouth. It took one snap in the dense air between you, for his eyes to lose their light before he began sucking your lips. His tongue is back in your mouth and you don't hesitate, you let him in instead, letting him use his tongue to rile you up.

The warmth of his hands cups your face, chilling up every bone in your body when he bucks his hips into yours; there it was, the warning ache in your lower belly. You were close. So close. The stimulation was overbearing at this point. First, Yeosang's sadistic little sex toy bothered you, then it was San who couldn't ease out his temptation to rub you out, and now it's Yunho, eventually grinding his hips into yours. You have your arms wrapped around his shoulders, hoping he'd let go of you. He doesn't. His tongue drags across every corner in your mouth, over and under your teeth, before plunging deep in your throat; your moans and whimpers are muffled, purposely by him. You were voicing out your protests, but there was no use, was there?

Shushed by his lips on yours, a meagre second breaks apart the littlest serenity in your body; weak and feeble, the astonishment of being weightless catches up with you. Your back slams against the wall where the futon is situated and he is all over you, pushing you into it, trapping you under him. His hands sear their touch on your waist, keeping you confined in one place as he continues to do what he had been doing. The ache dissipates almost immediately due to Yunho's warmth enclosing your face and body, rapturing your senses beyond your perception of pain. Your hands slide up his shoulders, fingertips tickling the sides of his neck, as soft as they could, before tangling them in his seemingly frail faded blue locks. Earning a grunt, reviving from the back of his throat, you moan and he pulls you into his body. The push and pull was inexplicably agonising; you were all into the roughness Yunho had to offer, but wasn't this too much?

And perhaps, your desperation to feel every ounce of pleasure slashed out your rationality, but you were definitely aware of Yunho's aggressiveness slipping up every limit your body could endure. Even if it was only kissing, and toying with your body as if you were a mere puppet on strings for him, you had your spine bracing with perturbation.

You're out of breath, yet choose to make no effort to push him off you. His lips are devouring yours, as if he were made to starve for the entire day; though, all the noises of your mind are silenced by his tongue, rubbing in the farthest corner of your mouth, almost touching your hanging uvula. It triggers your gag reflex, and when he find you twitching because of it, he pulls his tongue back to yours, toying with it to satisfy himself. You were struggling beneath him, preventing yourself from crying because your desires were getting pent up in your chest. It'd be one thing to get teased, but it's another when you're overly stimulated by him and the sex toy Yeosang chose to keep in you. His breath tangles with yours when he breaks off the hungry kiss and wrings his tongue of your mouth; he seemed absolutely ethereal, a little maniacal with the red in his eyes, but besides that, he appeared too fuckable to you. Red and plump lips, a sheer coat of spit covering them and chin, and the drool which dribbled down. You were tempted to act on your inhibitions, wanting to touch him in ways you had only imagined before.

"Oh fuck," he grumbles under his breath, watching your pant and have your chest collide into his. "Fuck, princess..." the probable incoherence is due to him having his chest convulse the way you do, yet he scours his sound and smirks lightly, "I am—I am sorry in advance. But I'm not going—I'm not going easy on you."

With that, he's reeling back in to taste your lips on his. The kiss wild, manic-frantic, almost too devious for you to keep up with him. He drops his hands from your waist and slides one them under your skirt, skipping across your thighs to your drenched panties. You didn't think he'd be gentle with you, and he really wasn't; you gasp into his mouth when his fingertips nudge against your dripping cunt. The pads of his long and sleek fingers rub you off, going up and down your drenched panties. He heaves a guttural moan, rumbling deep within his chest when he finds how wet you were. He knows there had to be a catch.

"Princess, why the fuck are you so wet?" he mumbles against your lips, "my little whore of a princess likes it when I get rough, doesn't she? Prefers to be manhandled." He chuckles softly, "and a little body like hers can't tolerate my strength, can it? Hmm, such a good little slut, taking everything without protesting."

You had no sense for self; responding to him felt like a task, and nodding wasn't possible since his lips had trapped yours again, constricting any movement of your head. He wasn't partly wrong however. Ever since he barged into your room and began afflicting himself on you, your body had reacted differently—you liked being tossed around like a mere toy, you liked how rough his lips were getting every passing second, you fucking loved it when he pushed you on the futon and trapped you there. Nonetheless, you were losing your mind when his fingers hooked under the waistband of your panties and slithered right in.

"Ah, is this why..." his words are caught in his throat you clasp down on his lower lip, teeth sinking deep into the flesh.

He had just touched the dainty chain dangling out of your cunt, the one which adhered the orbs together. Yunho's fingers curl around the chain and in one swift motion, he pulls it out, alongside the orbs. Your walls clench around nothing, leaving you empty. Odd. You felt discomfort creeping up your spine without having anything in your cunt to keep you bulged out, or even to stimulate your release anymore. Yunho lets a dark titter pass his lips, pulling back from the kiss and resting his forehead on yours; he brings his hand out of your skirt, holding the balls in a pinch, swaying them in front of your face.

"Fucking hell, my princess is such a naughty little whore," he states, lips structuring into a mischievous curve, "wanted to cum without having a cock inside that tight little thing of hers, did she?"

You shake your head lightly, nibbling on your lower lip; you were unable to make a sound, or utter what had been clouding your mind.

"Too speechless are we?" he breathes out.

Without thinking much, he tosses the chain of balls to the side and the sound of them rolling down breaks him out of his head. He dives back into the kiss, ferociously devouring your lips, sating his inner thirst; you go along with it, giving yourself to him completely. Yunho's aggression was only pleasant till you were stimulated by the kegel balls Yeosang had left in you. By the time his lips were back on yours, an unknown discomfort started settling deep within your gut. So far, you were bearing Yunho's bellicose attention. It was all fun and games until he shoves one finger into your puckering cunt; your hole eagerly invites his forefinger in, all the slick helping it to delve deeper inside.

You mewl, breathing hard and screwing your eyes shut. "Fuck—fuck too much, Yun..."

The feeling wasn't unpleasant, but your gut kept twisting and knotting in itself to indicate you something was off-putting. He increases his pace, exerting pressure on your clenching walls, causing a sharp ache to run down your spine. You throw your head back, hitting the wall in the process as his body pushes into you; with his head buried in the crook of your neck, he starts sucking and biting on your flesh, creating purple bruises across your skin. Tremors spread throughout your body, making you spasm as you wrap your arms around his shoulders to stable yourself. He didn't pace the thrust of his fingers steadily, regardless, he even added another one; his middle finger and forefinger plunged in and out of you, curling and brushing against your sensitive spot.

Yunho's far gone. He's too distrait to perceive your pained groans, or even your feeble attempts to push him off. The pique of arguing with his best friend was clearly evident in the way his fingers moved inside of you. You let out a gasp when his teeth sink in that one particular spot on your neck and your hands reach into his hair to nudge his head away from you.

"Yunho!" you scream, "stop."

And maybe it was for your amplified voice that he pulled himself back into his senses, snapping cruelly against the reality. Realisation settles deep within his gut, straying him off the spiteful ire and aggression he was caught in. His movements are dawdling thereafter.

"I'm so sorry..." he tries to reason with himself, his conscience breaking down his pugnacity.

Guilt plucks at his heart strings and he pushes himself off of you, eventually dragging himself away from to the edge of the futon. He sits slouched, head hanging low and his breathing ragged. You take a moment to compose yourself, conflicted on your thoughts. Do you comfort him? Do you ask him what's wrong? Do you nullify his behaviour and pretend everything was normal between you two?

Silence consumes every wrinkle of time, dragging both of you down with it, down into your unnecessary inhibitions and sentiments. Still stuck in a dilemma, you kept glancing at him, unsure and hesitant to approach him. It must've been more than an hour since you two had dwindled past the incident. Yunho sat still, rethinking, overthinking, letting everything overwhelm him. There must be a reason why he hadn't uttered anything for the past hour. Maybe his guilt wasn't letting him speak. Maybe he's self aware to realise his mistakes. You couldn't put your finger on it. Leaning back against the wall, your arms wrapped around your chest, and your eyes stuck to him like glue, you really pondered whether you should be the first one to make a sound or not. Maybe you should.

"Hey—"

"—don't," you squeak only to be interrupted by him with a growl. "Don't try to make me feel better about what I did."

You press your lips together, "I don't know what to say, to be honest."

"You don't have to say anything," his head falls further down, his shoulders rolling up, "don't worry, I'll leave."

"Stay," you mumble, crawling towards him by the edge, "please stay."

"Angel, don't let me guilt trip you into doing something you don't want to," he states, as firmly as he could, his voice deep with certain degree of crack at the end.

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around his chest from behind and resting your chin on his shoulder; you peek over, wanting to catch a glimpse of the sullen man. "You're not guilt tripping me into comforting you."

Yunho sighs, tracing his hands onto yours and given them a light squeeze. "You heard everything, didn't you?"

You nod, "I did."

His eyes lurk onto yours, lower lip puckering out. "We're not—I can't justify myself. Or even that argument."

"You really don't have to." You reply, "I'm not asking for a reason." Biting your tongue, you sigh, "you should confide in me, Yunho. Get it out of your head. I'm here to listen."

A quiet minute drags on, forcing you to take the matters in your hand. You slip away from behind him, carefully pulling yourself into his lap and wrapping your legs around his waist. Softly tugging his chin up with your dainty fingers, you make him face you, your other hand on his shoulder. There's meagre light in his eyes, shrouded by dense dark of his brown specks. You're not sure what he hides beneath it, what he was thinking, what he had been thinking. His lips push out to a pout, hands instinctively wrapping on either side of your waist.

"Angel, you don't have to do this." His voice is delicate and bleak as he groans.

"I feel like I have to," you bring both of your hands to cup his cheeks, staring deep into his eyes to decipher the lost meaning in them. "It's not an obligation, I don't feel obligated to. Though, I believe we should talk about it rather than sweeping it under the rug."

Yunho heaves out a heavy breath, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin and lips trembling to speak. "Fine," he mutters, clearing his throat to speak much firmer than before, "I lost control. Couldn't tame the frustration in my head and it all had to come out on you instead."

You hear the guilt in his tone, watch it flash across his face when he looks away from you. He continues, "we have an arrangement, I'm aware. Should it compel you to do something you're not comfortable with? No. You don't have to. You could've shoved me off the moment I pinned you against that door. You should've hit me, punched me, slapped me even..." he trails off, catching up on the murmurs of your sniffle, "...hey, I'm not trying to blame it on you. I'm trying to tell you what you could've done instead of going along with me."

You let his words sink in; the farthest corner of your mind replayed the moment where you could've pushed him off of you, but you didn't. Why didn't you? Did a sick part of you enjoy it a little too much to act on it? Had you pushed him off, would he have not felt as guilty as he is now? Were you blaming yourself? You sure were. Was there any point in it? Nope. Not at all.

"Talk to me," he coaxes you with a soft voice, hands tugging on your waist, "it scares me how quiet you are. Please, say something."

You hadn't realised how long were you quiet for, but the desperation in his eyes told you were biting your tongue for quite a while. You shake your head, and let your hands drop to his shoulders, clinging onto him.

"Yunho," you speak up, yet your voice barely reaches him, "I don't..."

"What is it, hmm?" he hums, resting his forehead on yours.

"I think I know why you were so angry," you mumble, sliding your hands on his chest, "but hearing you and Mingi argue over me, kind of turned me on."

You blurted out the one thing you never wanted to. Now, you were terrified to know how he'd react to the piece of information you just passed on. Maybe he'd be disgusted? He'd think you are a freak who...or maybe he'll just want to stop seeing you. Okay, we should put an end to your overthinking state of mind at the moment.

"What?" he chuckles, "oh princess. You did not just say that."

"It's the truth," you retort, "when you were growling at Mingi, trying to defend me, that was hot."

"Really?" he teases you, his hands falling down to your ass, caressing it in his big palms. "And here I was silly to think you wouldn't like that part of me. Tell me princess, do you like it when I get angry?"

Your cheeks turn red at the malicious tone he was using, stressing his words with a seductive voice.

"Yeah, I do." Senses clouded by lust, you give into your inhibitions, wanting nothing more than to be railed by him in the exact moment. Though, this time, a tinge of rationality clutches your dubious desires and makes you squeak, "but, why were you so mad for? What did Mingi do?"

Yunho snickers, sighing out adamantly, "don't act coy, princess. You heard him, didn't you? He called you a whore."

"So?" he cocks his brow at you, "would I let his judgement ruin my mood? Not really. Perhaps, not at all."

Yunho sighs yet again, "are you implying I overreacted to his comment?"

"I'm sure he only wanted to get a reaction out of you," you shrug, tightening your arms around his shoulders and pushing yourself into his chest, "honestly, you two were being hotheads for nothing."

"You don't know that!" Yunho retaliates with a half-hearted whine, his eyes meet yours and he sighs, "look, Mingi's girlfriend and I don't get along. Never have, in fact. And I don't see any brighter lights for the future too."

You ponder on his words and hum, "well, your resentment has to start somewhere, right? You can't just up and hate someone without a reason."

"I think I have a pretty damn good reason to not like her," he murmurs, squeezing your asscheeks, "well, it started when Mingi pitched the idea of going on a double date. We had just started dating these girls from our school and I thought why not?" he licks his lower lip, "I met Lani for the first time then, she was bearable at the least, for the time being. Then as days passed, certain qualities about her began to strike me as insufferable."

"Insufferable?" you repeat, emphasising on your astonishment.

"In a way, yes." He breathes out, seemingly frustrated at the thought, "she only acts affectionate towards Mingi when she needs his help or money. Other times she's surly and distant from him. Wouldn't that annoy anyone?" sighing, he channels his ire out through a breath and peeks up at you, his eyes darker than before, "it annoys me. A relationship is a two way street. You can't expect—well never mind."

You press your lips together and suppress your voice, not understanding what to speak of in this situation. You obviously did not want to add fuel to the already burning and scorching flames; it really does seem that Yunho despises his friend's girlfriend more than anyone else.

"Yes, relationship is a two way street," you agree, gently cupping his face with your hands. The soft touch, he leans in to, causes for your heart to skip a beat. "I'm not saying it just for the sake, but come to think about it. Mingi is a grown up, he surely knows what's going on with him and his girlfriend. Maybe he chooses to not believe it because it's better that way. We all tend to blur out the truth when the lie seems sweet enough to be true."

"But do you not think..." Yunho trails off, his gaze lowering to your thighs wrapped around his waist. "You know, I'm not so fond of this position; I may be fixated on thinking about Mingi's situation but you're not helping with all this. You're really not a good distraction."

You click your tongue, "actually, I'm a very reliable distraction."

"Oh please," he subtly rolls his eyes, a smile stretching his lips. "Prove it."

"Right now?" you ask him wide eyed. "I thought we were setting out for a heart-to-heart talk about your problems with your boyfriend."

Yunho scoffs, "he's one of the major reasons why I need a distraction." He peers up at you, lips lolling out to a pout and his eyes glossing over show an innocent ruse. Though, after a long second, he shrugs and dismisses it off. "But it's fine if you don't want to. Your consent matters."

Not uttering a single word, you lean in and press your lips against his, your arms tightening themselves around his neck. You push yourself further into him, getting the much needed friction of your chest with his; an insatiable desire erupts from the pit of your stomach, gradually rising up until your chest. In the past, the whole of three moments you've had with Yunho, can't be compared to this one. The more your lips stayed on his, the more ravenous your desires were turning out to be. If there was any doubt in your mind, you'd have acted on it. You hadn't yet. Given the few prior instances where you were actually terrified of his demeanour.

Rolling your hips into his, you could feel his cock starting to stiffen up against your stomach as you continue to grind on him. If there's anything you know better, it's riling Yunho up; you don't even have to do much, just turn off your rationality and let your lecherous desires consume you. It doesn't come to you as a surprise, but when you do, it's like staring into a mirror. You're both very alike when it comes to expressing your sexual preferences; maybe a little too similar.

The kiss continues to dwell on both of you, rapturing your senses to the havoc it was creating in your chest and stomach. You could almost feel your guts knotting themselves through, and your stomach grumbling with an unquenchable want. Regardless of how addicted you are to his lips, and likewise, you pull back when your thoughts are rumpled away into forcing you to breathe. Though, he doesn't see it as a stop sign; Yunho buries his head in the crook of your neck and starts nibbling on your sweet spot, just right below your ear. He knows it too well now, you can't help yourself when he toys with that spot—he's too accustomed to your needs and body.

"Fuck," you whimper, pushing out the air from your lungs. "Please—please, I need you. Really—really bad."

Closing your eyes shut, and letting your lips tremble, it was one of the best things Yunho had ever experienced; your face scrunched in an uncontrolled desperation while he carried on with teasing you. His teeth sink deep into your flesh, his tongue swiping and sucking, creating those noises which sound awfully loud and blissful.

"Patience princess," he mumbles against your neck, a smirk twisting on his lips. "I don't want to hurt you like the last time."

The recollection of "that" particular moment makes your stomach flip inside out. Your first time with Yunho, as much as it was pleasant and 'fucking amazing' it was also painful. Meagrely painful. Even though there was involvement of proper aftercare, you were still bleeding for a few days after. Ever since, Yunho had been careful with you, not initiating anything with you until you said otherwise; when you had recovered though, Jongho had taken out and that was a whole thing you didn't want to reminisce about now.

"You won't, I can take you..." you whisper, tracing your fingers on his back while suddenly clutching on his leather jacket when his teeth sink further into your neck. "Hmmm, fuck..." you let out a soft moan, screwing your eyes close even tighter than before.

"There's no way you can take me without bleeding again," Yunho says, "that night, I was way over in my head and I couldn't think straight—and blame it on Seonghwa for making me jealous." He pulls back, slightly smirking with pride as he catches a faint glimpse of your skin dented with his teeth. "This time, or maybe from now on, I won't do anything unless I'm sure you can. I don't want to hurt you again."

You peer down at him through your half lidded eyes and nod your head, speaking of nothing because you know he's stubborn and won't agree to whatever you suggest.

"Fine," you breathe out, "whatever you want."

"Don't be disappointed, princess," he pouts, pinching your nose. "This will be equally...fun."

"Huh, what do you mean?" you gawp, as he starts looking around till his eyes narrow down on the full body mirror next to your futon.

"It's the same mirror, isn't it?" he asks, lips twisting to a devious smirk and it continues growing in his cheek. "I should thank this mirror, honestly. Everything started with it, after all."

You're beyond flustered as the memories come back rushing in; it was never on your list to send a very risqué photo to the stranger you had just made that day, but something made you and now here you were. Did you ever find yourself thinking you'd be living with eight men, with seven of them being so interested in you—sexually? You'd rather be caught dead than caught wondering about these things; this is what your past attitude would've made you feel.

Though in current times, it's all you can think about. Think about these men ruining you to their desires, to their own needs—this can't be healthy, but it sure has taken up every fraction of your mind. And while you're at it, there's no harm in indulging.

"Come here." Yunho shifts about on the futon in a way to face the mirror with you on his lap, your back to his chest. "I've had to do this with some of the women I had entertained. It's a standard practice. And as much as I like a tight little cunt, it is really uneasy to fuck without proper preparation first."

Listening to him, your stomach does that little flip again; you're brought to your senses when his hands slide down your waist, his fingertips grazing along your exposed skin under your skirt till your ankles. He wraps his hands around them and rubs his thumbs against the bone to keep you composed before pulling them up on his lap. The position wasn't awkward, you were resting on his chest with your legs propped on his thighs.

"Look at you," he grumbles, diving his head back into the crook of your neck and leaving gentle flutters of his lips. "So beautiful..."

You're about to close your eyes when you glance at the mirror and find yourself staring at your reflection; you were indeed beautiful—propped steady on his lap, with legs spread as he continues to abuse your neck. Soft caresses send shivers down your spine, making your body shudder when his hands slide on your knees and push your legs further apart, exposing your wet panties.

"Yes, just like that..." he grumbles again, keeping his head buried in your neck. His warm breath tickles you, causing you to fall deep within the darkness of your body and mind. "What, cat got your tongue?"

You shake your head lightly, "no, I'm trying to figure out what all this is about."

"Oh princess," he lets out a silly chuckle, "you'll see."

"Hmmm, okay," you suck in a deep breath, closing your eyes when you feel his teeth biting and nipping your skin again.

He doesn't make a sound and rather brings one of his hands up to your mouth; his fingers nudge against your lower lip and you let them part, opening your eyes to his ministrations. His forefinger and middle finger rest heavy on your lip till you slack your jaw and open your mouth wide for him; without any hesitation, he thrusts his fingers inside your mouth. Those long and sleek fingers reach to the back of your throat, even without much effort or having to slide them down. You start gaging on them the moment his fingertips hit your uvula, but holding your ground, you let him do as he pleases—coating his fingers in your spit. Thrusting his fingers inside your mouth, he gets a good amount before pulling them out and glancing over at them. They glisten under the dim lights of the room, your spit dribbles down from the top to the knuckles; making you wonder how deep he was in your mouth and how deep his fingers had managed to thrust into your throat. You let out a whimper and throw your head back, eyes still on the mirror as you catch him smirking at you. Your chest heaves erratically to what he had done, trying to calm yourself down.

"Come on, you're over dramatic." He whispers as he uses his other hand to pulls your panties out of the way. In a swift motion, he slides them off your legs and keeps them next to him on the futon. "Fuck princess, look at you, dripping already."

The same hand starts tracing up your thigh and eventually rests on your mound; two of his fingers rest perfectly against your folds and he spreads them apart, peering down at your exposed self and your pretty little clit. You breathe heavily, keeping your hands to the side and clutching the sheets tightly in them.

A moan breaks out of your chest, making you cry, "too sensitive—hmmm, fuck Yun—hmmm." You bite down on your lower lip to shut yourself up, because nothing coherent would make out after this point.

Without giving you a prior warning, he had already stuffed two of his spit-covered fingers into your cunt; plumbing them deep, he curls them inside, making them brush against your fleshy walls. The squelching sounds grow loud as he thrusts them in and out at a manageable pace. You watch with your lip caught between your teeth, the reflection in the mirror showing how your cunt swallowed his fingers; it was a sight for your eyes, and also for Yunho's.

"Keep watching, princess. Dare if you let your eyes stray..." he warns you with a low grunt, his fingers increasing their pace.

That was it. The moment you fixated your eyes on the mirror, you found him staring back at you, the sleazy smile on his face helping you perceive his intentions more closely and clearly. In the following second, he starts spreading his fingers inside you, scissoring them against your walls and spreading you further apart; the stretch was blissful, so very pleasing for your body to react in this way. He was getting there; he sure was getting there.

Heat rising from your stomach, you start heaving, your chest starts heaving while your mouth parts open and stays like that; there's a scream trapped in the back of your throat, waiting to erupt from your chest with all its might as his fingers now move inside you at an alarming pace. You're so close, so close to having that knot in your stomach come undone. And as you were, his fingers slow down.

"Hmmm, you're not going to cum until I say so," he mumbles in a coarse voice, taking his fingers out of your soaking wet cunt; instead, he grabs your hands and gently rubs the back. "Keep your hands here, hmm? Give me a squeeze when it hurts."

And he's back to thrusting his two fingers inside you; but now your hands were wrapped around his wrists, tightly to give him the signal when it gets too much for you. He starts slow, only fucking the tips of his fingers in and out. This is way worse than before, the slow and mellowed out thrusts were pushing you to your edge, making your knees go weak as the knot reties itself in your stomach. The warmth starts rising again, making you sweat profusely while you have your head resting on his shoulder.

Yunho isn't staring at you anymore, his attention is focused down, on his fingers and your stretched out folds. Your mind is too lost in the conspicuous sight that you almost don't notice him spit out a wad of his saliva on his other hand. Again, he coats his two fingers in his spit, making sure they are nicely covered before tracing them lightly down to your cunt. A few little strokes of the tips against your folds, while his other fingers slow down thrusting in you, and you're losing it all over again. You had no idea what to anticipate anymore; two fingers were already in while other two toyed and pushed against a side of your folds.

"Ahhh, holy fuck..." you curse out loudly when he starts prodding his other two fingers against your cunt, pushing the tips in very gently as to not hurt you. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck....Yunho..." you mewl out with such pure passion, tightening your hands around his wrist while your nails dig into his skin, leaving behind crescent marks. "You're—ugh—too much..."

Again, without warning, he plunges his other fingers inside as well, not even giving you any time to adjust or even comprehend it properly. His fingers stretch you out so nicely, pulling apart at your walls and squelching inside with your flesh.

You're crying, well, on the verge of crying; you already have a few tears streaming down your cheeks. The way you were being stretched and held down by his weight, was too much to contain in your little head—and the knot becomes too intense in the pit of your stomach. You were indeed close, every muscle in your body twitches to let go of the tightness and you were about to when you're, out of nowhere, made feel empty and loose again. Sensing you clench around his fingers; Yunho had stopped doing whatever he was and had his fervent eyes on you through the reflection in the mirror.

"What did I tell you, princess?" his voice comes out mocking, almost; his breath hitches lightly as he continues, "you're not cumming unless I say so."

If it weren't for you holding onto his hands while his kept you occupied, you would've slipped right off his lap and landed ass first on the floor; you were no longer in the sane state of mind, it was a mush from the crippling pleasure and pain his fingers offered. You've been denied the leisure of your release twice now, and you knew it wasn't going to be the only time you would. This affliction only builds up to your restlessness, the slow paced ticking seconds only mocking you to your pique. To say, Yunho worked his fingers in you, as if he had all the time in the world, as if he had nothing better to do.

Would you blame him though? He's trying his hardest not to bust his load at the given moment; he knows he's been driven past the line of his tameable threshold, and what beholds for him beyond it is something he'd rather keep it to himself. Though, unlike the times before, this one seems like a torture to him. Gone were the remnants of his altercation with Mingi, disintegrated almost. Rather, you had replaced them quite adeptly with your murmuring moans and cries. Yunho has a part of his mind fixed on his fingers, while the other domesticated the wild inside of him. The softness he holds for you, is another thing compelling him to be so gentle and lenient with you. In his own way, he too was proven weak against his dilemmas.

Noticing the pace of his fingers slack, you lean back on his shoulder and stare up at him, your eyes tearful and your cheeks tear stained. You read the strained creases between his eyebrows, his shallow breathes brushing with your cheek so lightly, and his lips trembling; his flushed cheeks, reddened ears, and his heaving chest were a sign—he was restraining himself as well. In the heat of the moment, your eyes meet and his heart skips. There's something serene and indistinct in those brown flakes, something so indecipherable. Time wrinkles to a beat of your hearts, both of you leaning in to press your lips against each other. The kiss starts slow, peaceful, almost with a feathery brush of your lips. It's when you both know you could never get enough of each other, it's when you push yourself further into him and taste him fully, from your heart.

The decadent taste of his lips is a magical touch in itself; you're left wanting more, wanting to get everything of him. He's on the same page, pushing his tongue in, thrusting it deep in while he suckles on your mouth. A soft kiss turning to a passionate session of make-out, this wasn't anything new to the either of you. Maybe, the jitteriness of what came before it, was. What exactly was it that made the both of you lean in at the same time? A miscommunication between your eyes, or a direct connection of your hearts? Those questions would remain unanswered for a while.

"Yunho, please..." you whimper against his lips, tipping your head back, pleading with your eyes. "I'm close..."

"Me too, princess." He mutters, letting his fingers slip out of you. His long sleek fingers are coated in a weird concoction of your wetness and his spit. "Fuck..."

"Let's help each other out," you enunciate between your breaths, shifting in his lap to face him while straddling him and pushing him down on the futon by his chest.

"You'll hurt yourself, princess," he mutters again, with concern this time.

You shake your head and press your index finger against his lips. "I'll be fine."

Without giving a second thought, you take your top off, leaving your upper half bare. Yunho's hands rest on the sides of your waist, stabling you while you carried on with your plan; fumbling with the button on his pants, you manage to undo them and then unzip them. From the past hour, you had his cock hard against your ass. You tug his pants down, enough to have his cock out; he was straining in his briefs, twitching lightly when you started stroking him through them.

"My my, what does my princess have in her mind?" he grins up at you, resounding his words with a chuckle.

"Shut up," you heave out in irritation, too riled up by him and too sensitive.

Using your free hand, you lift your skirt up, and keep it pinned against your waist; slowly, you lower yourself on his cock, letting it grind into your slit. You place both of your hands on his chest, giving yourself the leverage to continue the movements of your hips.

"Fuck, princess," Yunho screws his eyes shut, his hands tightening on your waist. His breathing, once again, becomes shallow and heavy, with your hips rolling onto his, with your cunt sliding profusely and with was on his cock.

The harshness of your sensitivity makes you start out slow, but when you catch a glimpse of his face, you decide to pick it up by a notch. Creases on his forehead, his squinted eyes closed shut, and his lips parting with every moan he lets out; it was all a sight full of his sensuality. That was alone enough to push you to your release, the knot coming back in the pit of your stomach immediately. It was when he mumbles out an incoherent curse, followed by a loud moan, that you lose it all and increase the pace of your movements.

Yunho cracks one of his eye open, watching you intently; you were in the same boat as him, eyes closed shut, breathing hard, and your body shuddering to every touch. He lets his lips sculpt into a small smirk, his eyes fully open and never leaving your figure. He starts to guide you along his cock by pushing and pulling on your waist, helping you; eventually, he bucks his hips up, the tip of his cock thrusting in you. A moan ruptures through your throat and chest, your eyes fluttering open to look down at him with tears welling up in the corners.

"Good god, princess, I'm really close." he whispers, "so close—I can't hold it in anymore."

He throws his head back in the mattress, his eyes closing again; he regulates his breathing through his mouth, his hands continuing to push and pull your waist. His cock was so perfectly aligned with your slit, your folds wrapping around the bulging and veiny shaft and the tip rubbing with your clit every time you rocked your hips. It was enough to take him to paradise, it was enough to get him there; his high comes to him like a big wave crashing down against a giant boulder. His chest heaves up hard, the heat in his stomach rising and pushing through. The sensitivity he was drowning under, pushes him to his edge, making his cock twitch deliriously against your slit and your folds, and his tip ramming into your clit; in few seeming minutes, he comes undone, filling up your slit with his cum. Most of it ends up on his lower abdomen and his chest.

"Fuck, princess," he lets out a guttural moan, swallowing thickly and raising his head back to look at you and then inspecting the cum on his clothes.

You peek down, biting intensely on your lower lip, catching the sight of the white strings painting his shirt; surging in a gentle breath, you continue rolling your hips, continue to keep the pace steady till you're close to your release. This would've been less painful if you weren't so sensitive from before, from your time with Yeosang, to here, to Yunho fingering your tightness out, as if his life depended on it.

"Come on, princess," he praises you, "you can do it. I know how much you love making a mess on my cock."

Moaning, whimpering, shuddering, and crying, you're finally reaching there, with his words kept on a replay in your head. The knot ties in with the hit in your stomach—your legs were almost on the verge of giving out, and so were you. Darkness consumes you, dazed in the thoughts of you pushing your limit and wanting to be tipped off your edge. In the hollowed silence, where only your breaths were echoing, you catch up on the dainty vibrations of his words.

"Make a mess, baby."

And they were enough for you to reach your high; it comes crashing down on you, the sensation of his still-stiff cock and the wetness of your cunt, coming together and pushing your beyond your limit. That was it, the knot unfurls in your stomach and you let go of what had been holding it together; your body shudders and twitches uncontrollably, your lips parting and staying parted as you release a series of curses.

"Fuck, oh god—hmm, Yunho," you mewl his name in a pained voice, your face strained and pulled together with the tension easing slowing in your stomach and your gut.

Yunho snickers, his sound lighthearted and teasing, "oh my, my princess really did make a big mess on my cock."

You didn't have the strength to retort or reply to him, your body going limp and collapsing down on his chest. The ickiness of both of your releases starts settling in afterwards, regardless, for the time being, you were seeking comfort from him, with his arms wrapped tightly around you. His warmth is a meagre thought of ecstasy, a sacred feeling you never had experienced before. Resting yourself with him, with his fingers running through your hair and his soft voice humming a song to you, it was your paradise.

The two of you decide to stay in bed for the rest of the evening and the night. Yunho suggested watching a movie while you were both cleaning yourself and taking a well needed shower, but you turned the idea down and asked him if he was okay with just cuddling and talking. And he was. He could never go against your words; there was no way he'd actually disagree to anything you say. But of course, he'd there to correct you with his own opinions and thoughts if he deems you to be wrong.

So there you were, delighting yourself in the post aftercare with Yunho, cuddling and talking to each other, narrating stories from your past. He kept one arm slung around your waist from under you, while his other was draped around your chest with his fingers tracing patterns on your exposed shoulder. A soft blanket covered you both; he got you one of his oversized hoodies to wear while he only slipped on his shorts.

"It's silly, I know." Yunho's chuckle reverberates in your ear, his smile widening. "But trust me, he's never confessed. He always has this elaborated ideas about confessing, but he never goes through with them."

"And you just toy with him?" you snicker, "if you know he likes you, then why not just end it? I'm pretty sure he'd be out of his misery."

"Nah," he presses his lips on the top of your head, "I'm too used to this game of cat and mouse. I wouldn't mind pulling his strings a little. Besides, he can be a real jerk at times."

"Like today?"

"There have been more difficult times." He sighs, "hey, let's not talk about it anymore."

You nod your head, deciding with it; Yunho had been telling you about his and Mingi's relationship—how those two became friends, how they got along, how they both liked each other in ways more than friends. Neither of them said anything about it though, and that really confused you. But it wasn't your place to say anything.

"So, how are you feeling now?" he asks you, bursting your bubble of thought

"Much better," you mutter, "I feel so sleepy."

"Of course you do," he chuckles. "Sure that little body can handle only so much from us, and considering you were with Seonghwa and Yeosang in the morning, that's—that's completely understandable."

"Shut up," you whine, teasing him. "Did you forget to include yourself? You were a jerk."

"Thank you so much for reminding me again," he clicks his tongue and slurs his words. "Come on, I said I'll make it up to you, I promise." You watch him pout.

"You better."

"Yes ma'am."

And the teasing and mocking continues on through the dwelling night until you find yourself sound asleep in his arms; he's no better than you of course, you had caught him snoring before you could even get yourself to drift off. Though, he looked really cute as he slept, a soft pout stayed on his lips as he did. When you were dozing off, you had many thoughts on your mind, but only one of them stood out. Did you actually like him? So, San was right. You really did dream of having a proper relationship with him.

Oh boy, this little arrangement of yours might leave you heartbroken.

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#ateez #ateez fanfic #jeong yunho #ateez yunho #atz #ateez smut #yunho smut #yunho x reader smut #jeong yunho x reader #yunho ateez #yunho hard thoughts #yunho hard hours #choi san #choi san x reader #san x reader #song mingi #jung wooyoung

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glaciertea · 6 months ago

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A Night to Prove All

A Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader one-shot

[Thank you @oharaslove for being my beta reader for this~]

Word count: 6K

Content warning: 18+, Pwp, PinV, protected sex, cunnilingus (F receiving), use of alcohol (nothing too wild), Miguel is downbad~

Summary: Miguel has been watching you across the way. He's curious about you.

He wants to know more about you.

He wants to show that a certain act will lead to something more.

He couldn't help but take notice of you.

He couldn't help but notice the guys who sat next to you, testing the waters. Your waters. Was it scalding hot? Or was it arctic cold?

He played a little game in his head whenever a guy would remove himself from the bar stool next to you. Depending on their reaction, he could take a guess at the temperature they decided to dip their toe in.

That's a sneer. Hot.

He appears as if he's about to cry. Cold.

He's whispering something to you. Did he get through?

Nope, a pure look of disgust. The water was too cold, so he believed the immediate burning water would warm it up. Balance it out. But he didn't give it time to allow it to properly reach that poise, to let it fill up and mix in.

You radiated a mesmerizing energy. Perched up in the middle of the bar are your long-sleeved blouse, comfy dress pants, and heels. Two inches, to be exact.

You were stirring your second daiquiri of the night. The classic strawberry. You were very to yourself, minus the ones who would interfere and place themselves in your bubble without your clear, full-on permission. There was maybe one or two out of the possible five candidates who had the decency to pose the question “Is this seat taken?” before you gave a bowed head. And when you did nod, you looked hesitant but allowed it.

“What is it?” Miguel muttered to himself, swirling his whiskey. He was on his third one for the night, but with his powers, he could definitely handle twice as much. Taking a sip—that's when the right word dropped in his lap.

Class.

That's what you were exuding. When you denied the offers, you did it with grace and a sense of politeness. There was one where you did have to give a vexing eye. Miguel had the urge to make his way to get the dude off your back, but the bartender came to your rescue before he could really settle on his final answer.

This wasn't the original plan. He wanted a night out away from the other spiders, as today's mission was a pain and a half. Well, hell. It was full hell... and a half.

Three anomalies in one world. Nine different spiders in three sets of three went after each one; he needed to relax badly. It was successful, as they usually are, but even he had his limits.

This was out of his nature, but a few drinks were what he salvaged after. Even he knew when he needed time away from it all.

But spotting a beautiful person across the way wasn't on the agenda.

Would he dare try? Would he try and be potentially hot or cold, number six? He could handle rejection; he's a grown man. He was taught that ‘no means no,’ and there could be no explanation needed, no matter how curious he was. Simple and straightforward.

He's used to being by himself in his own space. In the rare moments he is out like this, a few will wonder up to him and take their shot. It was also a rare moment for him to indulge in a one-night stand. So the ones who would get shooed away by him made him curious if he'd understand what it's like to be on the other end.

Scooting out of the booth, he began to stroll in your direction. You weren't paying any attention to your surroundings; you were lost in your head, it seems. Earlier, he took note of your observing eyes, but you possibly needed a moment to recharge after the line of men wanting to pucker up to you.

Miguel stopped a foot from you. He didn't think this approach all the way through. Does he ask if this seat is taken like the others? You could've glanced at him, so there's a chance that you knew that he knew that this seat was indeed not taken. He didn't want to tap on your shoulder; that would definitely come off as rude.

Does he take the seat? Or does he go down one and work his way to that one?

He really should've had a plan from the start. This isn't like him.

“Yes?”

A voice snapped him out of his trance. He turned to the bar before peering down at you.

You are beautiful.

He already knew, but it's different when you're able to view a sparkling gem up close. His mouth was dry, and words and word structures seemed to fail him at the moment. He didn't want to open his mouth, or the next few sentences would be a very bad Porky Pig stuttering impression.

You raised a brow, waiting for a response. The guy in front was very handsome and muscular that it seemed comical. You did see him in the corner when you walked in, very much to himself. You can’t lie and say that you weren’t intrigued, yet you didn’t have the ambition to go up to him, so you found yourself once more on your own.

Bars are your rare amenities. A place where many frequent for a good (or bad, depending on the party) night, whether it be an outing with friends, a casual hook-up, or getting away from it all. And that’s what you’re for. You desperately had to get away from work life and the tedious night classes because, Lord knows, waking up super early to learn was no longer in your schedule. You refused to go back to those days of being up before the crack of dawn to a bunch of teens and teachers who didn’t want to be there just as much as the next.

A drink or two, chill music, then straight back home—that’s the usual run with these excursions. No one night stands, no making friends was off the table as you found it difficult to think of conversations and will freeze up; it was merely you, your thoughts, and the bartender when he came to check up on you.

It was a plan, but it was a shame that others didn’t pick up on that memo.

You found yourself attractive—nothing too crazy like a runway model, but also not ‘bad looking,’ even though looks are preferences. Average. That was your humble word whenever someone asked how you would describe yourself appearance-wise. But tonight wasn’t the case. Tonight you were a ten out of ten and then some with the many approaches of gentlemen either wanting to get in your pants or maybe more, but the universe decided to be weird and play some type of cruel joke and went for the first one.

The joke got old very fast.

Now you were onto a new one. Yes, he has a pretty face, intimidatingly handsome, one might say, but his desires could fall under the same categories as the ones from earlier. Though he is more jittery than the rest, even if his neutral facade is trying to cover it.

“Are… Are you okay?”

Coming back to reality, Miguel sputtered out an apology and directed his focus to the many drinks sitting on the shelves. He never considered himself to be a great conversationalist, but he believes he can hold a decent chat when need be, yet suddenly, it's refusing to make its way out of him.

“I know this seat has been taken and then empty a few times before, but may I sit here?”

Biting your inner cheek, a sidelong glance reached him. You eyed the many alcoholic choices and scrolled through your options. This was going to be your last drink of the night anyway, and you paid in advance, so you could get up and leave if he started to hassle you.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Miguel wasn't relieved by the answer, but it was a step on a path. Taking the stool, you were fixed on his size. He was so humongous that you wanted to ask a question about whether he always takes up this much space but refrained from it.

It was quiet for a few minutes. You were both gaping ahead at everything and everyone, but not at each other. Miguel held this etched demure attitude, terrified to even speak a single word, not wanting to mess up this opportunity. You took a sip from your cup and cleared your throat. This was straining for you both, and it didn't help that your mind was racing with a million inquiries on why he wasn't talking to you. Is he putting on a facade of being nervous, or is this how he is?

“Do you usually come to this bar?” He winced at that very generic question.

You were ready to fling your body out of this building. “No, not really. Rare occasions. What about you?”

“Every once in a blue moon. I don't really care about frequenting bars. They're nice, but to a certain extent.” Miguel got the bartender's attention and ordered another whiskey.

“I agree with that; bars can be pretty good, but you have moments where you run into different sorts of people.” The bartender asked if you wanted something else, but you turned it down, thanking him.

“Yeah, I dealt with some very interesting people in my time. Ojalá me hubieran dejado solo.”

“Care to share any?” Interest peaked, but there was still stiffness.

“Miguel, by the way.”

You were leery, but you dropped your name.

You didn't know how much time exactly, but you were on your third drink and he was on another. You were fascinated by his alcohol tolerance because he was holding up like nothing. The discussions and rabbit holes you fell into were natural—way too natural. Your defenses still kept their guard up, but it was pleasant.

Miguel's clunky motions presented themselves; he didn't want to spook you away. He was sucked into this pulling beam, and he saw no reason to fight it.

“So your co-worker has a habit of bringing his baby to work?” You chuckled while sipping on the daiquiri.

Miguel sighed. “Yes. No matter how many times I tell him not to, he does whatever he feels like. But she is adorable, and I do enjoy her presence.”

“But you'll never admit it?” A boastful assumption, but you got him to laugh.

“You know me too well, it seems.” He eyed his drink. “I would like to get to know you better.”

“What was that?” You hoped he wasn't thinking of a certain activity to impose.

“Nothing.” He scrunched his eyebrows and shook his head. Miguel wondered if he was seriously about to go through with this ridiculous request, but with the way the interaction and banter were going, he didn't want it to end. Not now, maybe even never, and he's usually more guarded with these things, but it'll be worth the shot.

“No. I'm not doing that; I might as well go for it. You are a very attractive woman, and riveting as well. I would like to do something tonight–”

You had to interrupt. “I'm sorry, Miguel. I should've said this from the start, but I wasn't thinking at the time. One-night stands are not my forte. I prefer to see how things will move along and how they'll develop. Bloom into something. I'm sorry again if that is what you were expecting from this.” You should've known this was too good to be true.

Miguel nodded his head. “I understand completely. And I will not push you into that line. You caught my eye earlier; one can say I was enthralled. I wanted to know what you were like. Merely intrigued.”

You blinked a few times. “So you don't want to have sex?”

“I won't lie and say I don't have that in mind, but I wouldn't mind sitting here until closing to continue on with our conversation and leaving with your number if you choose to give it to me.” He reached for his wallet. “I'll find value in that if it means I get to proceed knowing more about you. May I pay for your drink?”

“I can pay for mine; thank you, though.” His words caught you for a loop. He respected your choice and paid for his, not making a fuss. Your brain was battering at the cage that this was a ploy, but something stirring deep inside was whispering that he meant his words.

You caught on to his hook.

“May I make an offer?” Miguel asked.

Your eyebrow slowly rises, caution taking hold of every cell, atom, and molecule of you. “I'm listening.”

He also wanted to know how your body felt against his.

“Tonight, I want you to give me the opportunity to prove that I am meaning all the words I'm saying.”

“You want your actions to speak louder?” You reclined to the back of the bar stool, twisting in it slightly.

“That's what I'm lying down for." It is all up to you, of course. I am willing to simply have a chat with a beautiful woman and then go on about my life.” The whiskey was finished when he settled the glass on the overly dampened napkin. “To leave with a simple number. Or, up to you, we can try something tonight, and I will still want to be there.”

The reflection of yourself in his sunglasses forced you to look at how you were thinking in this moment. You saw the want, the unsure part, and the worry, and Miguel knew it too. He was ready to back away, then you opened your mouth.

“You're clean?”

“Yes, and if you'd like, I can show proof to you.”

You nodded, paid for your drink, and slid off the stool. Miguel followed suit, freaking out himself, but he pushed down any signs of it.

You were going to step into this domain. So much was sprinting inside your brain. You were hesitant. Very hesitant. You did walk to the bar, so he couldn't have access to your license plate, which was a good thing. You think.

Making your way out of the bar, you twisted your head left and right when Miguel stood still, rubbing the back of his head.

“Did you also walk?” You crossed your arms, stepping over to the side to not block the entrance.

“Yes. I'm sorry, I didn't think this would go this way.”

The air was stagnant. The surrusus of winds is breezing around you two, gleaning at the buildings and streets filled with citygoers bustling along with their lives. You weren't going to take him back to your place. Certainly not.

And do you dare go back to his? How far away is his place? Was it close by? It had to be if he also walked. Or maybe he got a cab service and then ventured his way over to this area? You scuttled more away from him by an inch or two. You wanted to be discreet, but he took notice.

“We don't have to do this. I don't want to make you uncomfortable in any way.”

You went to open your mouth to argue about his offer, but he beat you to it.

“And even if I put the proposition out, I'm sure we both know that it isn't some contract or thing you have to or need to go through.”

You hinged your mouth right back up and peered ahead. Your gut was screaming to let Miguel take you; there is truth behind his words. Yet the logical side agrees with that statement.

This isn't something you have to do; one-night stands can give you a feeling in the moment, but you crave more. Relationships can be scary, but it was something that you did lean on. That sense of security.

Your feet are already in the water, so why not dip in further? “You don't have anyone waiting for you at home?”

He shook his head. “If I did, I certainly wouldn't be here.”

That got a snort out of you. You sized him up, trying to decipher if he was lying to you, but that gaze he was giving made you feel impartial enough to believe him.

“Right. Do we go back to your place?”

“Would you feel at ease going there? And I want to hear your honest answer. No throwing it back at me.”

You had to make the right choice.

Here you are with your back against the wall of a decent hotel room. You still weren't comfortable bringing Miguel back to your apartment, but you were willing to go to a hotel with him. At least it was a public space, so a cleaner could stumble upon your body stuffed lazily under the bed or something.

Miguel did make sure to check in on you, wanting to be completely certain that you were fine with this. You were seeing green flags, but you were always ready to rip off those rose-tinted glasses.

“If you need anything, tell me. I want you to be priority number one.” His tongue trailed down your chin to your collarbone, refusing to take off any clothes without your permission.

“Can we listen to music?”

“Yes, we can.”

He gave you space to slip down, and you hobbled to your phone and searched for a perfect playlist. You did glance at the items that sat perfectly on the small stand by the bed.

Right before this little excursion fell into place, you took a detour to a local store that sold the essential items you needed. You wanted to be better safe than sorry.

A bottle of flavored lube (the store didn't have any unscented ones, of course), morning after pills, and condoms.

The size Miguel picked up almost made you drop everything and deny him access. But that gut feeling was keeping you hostage, and that curiosity was peeking out.

You jumped when your name was called, as Miguel gave a look of concern. “You okay? Remember, we can stop at any point.”

“It's okay, Miguel. Thank you for checking in on me. I'm still up for that request, you know.” After clicking the list, the ambience settled in. “Can you dim the lights, please?”

He searched for the light source and stared at the ceiling, watching the room be shrouded in a soft glow. “You doing okay?”

Your heart and stomach flittered. Half from the nerves and the fact of how caring he was. He was really trying to do his best, but you still needed to examine him.

“Yes, I'm fine. A bit wonky, but I'm ready to continue.”

He made his way back over and sat on the mattress, sinking it down partially. “Remember, whenever you want to stop, tell me.”

You reeled yourself up into a heated kiss. If you wake up to an empty bed in the morning, then it'll all be on you. You really hoped this wasn't some elaborate scheme to get in your pants.

You had to clear your head; you had to focus on what was going on in front of you. It was you and Miguel, and this ‘promised’ future he laid out and presented.

His lips were soft, and his tongue worked endlessly in your mouth. Your moans alone were enough to make him burst, but he had to please you first. He pulled back, scratching the nape of your neck, and took his shirt off. You couldn't help but stare. Holy shit, he was built as a tank and then some.

Miguel followed your dazed eyes down to his chest. He didn't know if that was a good stare or not.

“Everything okay?”

“Oh, everything is fine. It's all peachy. I knew you were buff, but behind fabric it looks, well,” you signaled with your hands at his pecs to his abs. “Different.”

“Eres muy linda. Thank you, I think.” He puffed out a laugh.

“It's a compliment.” You hesitated to touch his muscles, but he took a hold of your wrists and placed them on his chest.

“You can touch, hermosa. It's okay.”

You took that permission and stroked every crevice of him.

“Really big.” You both giggled at that and went back for another kiss.

Miguel's pants were tight, but he held off. You took your shirt off with help from Miguel. You removed your bra as well and couldn't help but snort at his absorbed fix.

“I- uh, sorry.”

“No, it's okay. Making it equal.” You took his wrist, gawked at the sheer size of his hands, and placed them on your breasts.

Miguel took the hint and kneaded them, giving peppered kisses wherever he could. He tweaked your nipples, tugging and pinching at them. He dipped down to lap at one, toying with the band of your pants.

You were feeling stuffy and warm in them, ready to get them off. You pushed him off, startling Miguel. He was ready to ask if everything was okay when you ripped the fabric down to your ankles and kicked them away.

“Your turn.” You plopped back on the bed, holding back a smile at the stunned expression.

He stood up, took a few steps back, and unbuttoned his jeans. The relief that crashed when he was free was kept hidden. You gulped at the outline. You thought you were discreet, but the sheepish blush crept on Miguel.

“No, I mean, you're big in all ways; I wasn't expecting that. I was, but not really.”

Miguel craned his neck down. “You're fine.” He strolled up to you and right in between your legs, parting them with his body. “Just say the word, hermosa, and I will back away.”

You needed this. “It's okay. Go ahead and continue, please.”

“Ready?” He tugged at the waistband.

You didn't want to go back. “Yes.”

Lifting your bottom, he slipped them off in one fell swoop. He did it so smoothly, your brain couldn't register it. It did take note of how intensely Miguel was eyeing your pussy. You knew you were wet from the acts and his overall demeanor, but Miguel was eyeballing you like you were some sacred treasure.

You heard him gulp his steady gaze on yours. “May I?”

“Please.” You were ready to explode from that. He has you in his trance.

Miguel had to take his time; he wanted this to be a night you wouldn't forget, so when the time comes to reminisce about this night, you both will maintain this overwhelming sense of nostalgia.

Miguel was already whipped for you.

Kissing and licking your inner thighs, he closed his eyes to listen to your sounds. Nipping the flesh earned him a soft sigh; biting led to a whiny cry; and sucking gave him a needy moan.

He didn't pause until you were covered, or unless you spoke up, he needed to mark you for only you and him to see. He worked his way up to your glossy heat, watching as you clenched.

“Eager, huh?” He placed his lips on the folds, letting some of the delicious juices stick to them.

“You can—ah, yes, I guess you can say that.” You combed through his hair and smiled. Miguel's heart was ready to beat out of his chest. He needed to wake up to that every morning.

You bucked your hips, signaling him to keep going, and he wasn't one to tease you… Yet. Pulling at your folds, he waltzed his tongue along them, probing at the opening before lazily moving up and down along the slit.

Your toes curled, one hand on your breast and the other pushing his head further. You squeaked and mewled. It was like he knew your body; it felt so incredible. You grinded in a steadfast motion, your eyes rolling in the back of your head whenever his nose swiped against your clit.

And that's when you were caught off-guard.

“Aah—mmn!” His tongue suddenly grounded into your velvety walls, clinging on with every sharp thrust of the soft muscle.

The sounds right in your ears, your long heaves, and the whiny calls of his name in his. Red eyes pierced into your soul as he quickened his motions.

“Fuck, Miguel—this feels—mmn! This feels amazing. You're doing so well.” You grabbed onto his curly locks, bucking your hips to have him plunge deeper.

Miguel was one for praise; he pretended to not hone in on his ego, simply brushing it to the side like it didn't exist. But hearing those cute sounds flow out of you made him feel as if he's the greatest creation in the entire multiverse.

Wriggling and exploring your tight, dripping pussy, he made sure to savor every drop of your delectable juices. Your flavor was astral—simply out of this universe.

Slurping up until he reached your clit, he toyed with the sensitive nub, allowing his two fingers to continue giving you the pleasure you desire and deserve.

“Miguel!” The shrill of great ecstasy had him almost come undone right in his boxers.

You hugged his fingers so well, stretching and scissoring for you to be able to take him. He wasn't going to neglect one inch of you; he wasn't going to neglect a single part of you.

“Mm, how are you feeling, hermosa?” He whispered against your stomach, leaving those small butterfly kisses on it, his digits picking up in a brutal place.

“I—ngh—I feel—fuck!” His thumb danced along your stiffened clit, prodding and rolling it, carefully pressing it down.

All he could do was smirk, lay his tongue flat against your nub, and roll it with it. Your back arched, and the stars were in your vision. You wailed his name as Miguel helped you ride out your orgasm, slurping up any juices that dared not fall into his mouth.

“Shit… oh, oh, my God.” Your spent body was light as a feather, like you couldn't move a muscle.

“Was it good for you, hermosa?” He kissed your lips and your cheek a couple of times, staring at your glazed-out expression.

You grinned, licking your mouth and tasting your wetness. “Very. I think I'm ready for you, Miguel.”

“You think or you know, hermosa?”

You gnawed at your lip and whispered. “I know.”

Miguel's stomach did a somersault. Standing up, he was fully free. Stepping out of his boxers, he went for the condoms, popping the package open and pulling out a wrapper. He climbed back into the bed and made sure you were comfortable.

Witnessing him rip off the foil with precision managed to turn you on even more. He slid on the condom as you eyed the long, throbbing penis. You didn't know whether to admire it or be terrified of it as you pursed your lips into a thin line. Miguel's eyes looked into yours, sensing the nervousness emanating from you.

“I'll go slow; I want you to experience nothing but pleasure.”

You nodded at the reassurance, needing him closer to you. Taking a hold of the nape of his neck, you bring him into a yearning kiss. Miguel's arms were on either side of your body, trapping you in, but you loved the heat leaving him.

“Ready, amor?” He nipped at the curve of your neck, wanting to sink his fangs into your delicate skin, but reprimanded himself, scolding himself for that thought.

I- uh…” you gulped.

“Yes?” His breath sent shivers down your back, and the tingling sensation between your thighs coursed from your stomach to your chest.

This man is huge in every single shape and in every possible form. You would like to be on the bottom to feel him rutting into you with every thrust, but his size scared you. And the gaze he was holding wasn't doing your nerves any better.

“Would you like to be on top?”

You scanned the room and nodded your head. With no hesitation, he flipped you both so you were straddling his hips and his back was resting against the headboard. His hands run along your sides, giving your behind a firm squeeze. Your eyes found their ways lost in his. The music gives that intimate ambience, and the dimmed lights show off the right amount of his gorgeous features.

You swore you saw his iris flash red, but you shook it away. Turning back, you took one more glance at him before grinding against the tip. A hissing intake escaped from you, nails digging into his shoulders as a grunt was left between those plump lips of his.

Biting your tongue, you continued on with your slow movements, wanting to at least get the head in, but with his size, it could be a bit difficult. You needed some more help.

“Miguel, I need to...”

Without a second thought, his hand reached for the bedside dresser and grabbed the bottle of lube. Using his thumb to pop off the cap, he held it close to you.

“Palm.” That instructive tone sent those goosebumps running all over you.

Obeying, you shakily move it right in front of him. A decent amount of clear gel squirted out. You blinked a few times, confused, watching Miguel place the bottle back in its original spot. Two of his fingers scooped up a small bit, a dangerous glint of desire and hunger.

“I- Miguel, I don't know what you-”

“Go on. Do what you need to do.” The two fingers glided in between his cock, from the head down to the base.

Creasing your eyebrows, you tried to put this puzzle piece together when it hit you. “This is a lot.”

He smirked, taking more, and went back to pleasing himself. “Still too much?”

Using the rest, you lathered up your digits and maneuvered them right to the entrance. Miguel stared passionately, his hand moving at a leisurely pace, enjoying the private experience. Sticking your fingers in, you felt yourself clenching. A hearty moan works its way out, your slick walls tender with every breach from your own attention.

You've never felt this euphoric when you touched yourself. Maybe it was because you both are helping yourselves out for one another, or it could be the fact that a beautiful man was glaring at you with an intent to rearrange your insides while wanting to show you that there is and will be more to this.

“Whenever you're ready, hermosa.”

“I'm ready for you, Mi- ah–Miguel.” He rubbed some of the transparent substance off of him onto your clit.

Repositioning back over him, you repeated the pattern of nudging yourself down onto him, finding it easier to slide down. A strangled groan trembled out of Miguel, observing the tip disappear in you. Rolling your hips, you clenched on him from your fluttering walls to your arms around his neck. Your eyes blinked rapidly as the tandem rhythm of you and Miguel rocking out of sync held every ounce of ignited need.

Halfway in, your cries and words of sweet nothings echoed in his ears and mind. A ring of your gushing juices formed perfectly on him. The music really did help.

with that intoxicating ache in your burning bodies. You were so glad you recommended it.

A couple of inches more down. You whine out. He mutters swears in Spanish, growling when you finally hit the base of the shaft.

“Yes, yes, hermosa. Estás hecha para esta verga. Estás hecha para mi.”

You felt full. Tears streaming down, your cries breathless, with Miguel taking control of the mindless thrusting. When you go down, he makes sure to drive up in full force. His fingers skimmed across your ignited skin, longing to take in everything.

The wet slaps were delicious. You bounced with every bit of delight, whining out when Miguel chewed and sucked on your nipple, adding to the fervid moment.

“Fuck, Miguel! Your cock fits so perfectly!”

“For me, only for me.” Miguel's vigorous pumps sent you both in a spiral.

Your tight walls were constricted; you were experiencing his ridges and veins, all of him rubbing against you so nicely. Your fingernails leave indents on his beefy shoulders, one or two puncturing the skin. The sweat leaking down and shimmering on his chest and abs made you want to take a picture and hide it from everyone. You wanted this image to be for your eyes only, and the idea of keeping it was floating whimsically in the air.

Your murky fluids covering his, the melding scent of your carnal lust as Miguel picked up the tempo, forced you to throw your arms around his neck to not tumble over. His head is buried in the curve of your neck, biting at the flesh, his fangs threatening to sneak in.

“Tan bueno, tan jodidamente bueno. Te haré mía, hermosa.” Miguel took a fistful of your hair, pulling you into a deep kiss.

You screamed, tongues in a constant battle, his giant hand gripping your waist, surely to leave small bruises in the morning. His balls came into contact with your ass as the furious pounding made the bed shake and groan alongside. The fuse was to explode.

“I'm cumming! Miguel, I'm going to cum!”

“Cum for me; do it, hermosa, cum, cum.”

You shrieked. Shockwaves overtook your very soul as you quivered, and your muscles convulsed around his length.

“Miguel, you make me feel like I'm on cloud nine; you brought me to a new high.” You cooed in his ear.

He was close to his end, holding you tight. Your praises drove him insane; he repeated your name over and over until he finally washed over, moaning your name like you were a goddess from above.

Your head fell to his chest, loving the heaving and hearing his heartbeat slow its erratic pace. He began to soften, but he wanted the feeling of you to not disappear.

“So.”

“So.” You huffed out with a giggle.

“Did the offer leave the table? Did I give my worth?”

Digging your chin into his chest, your eyes darted side to side, pretending to search for an answer.

“Well, I suggest you better be here in the morning to get my response.”

You both smiled and snuggled up to each other, cooling down and enjoying the endlessly loving tunes.

•♡•♡•♡•♡•

Miguel stepped inside his place, closing the door quietly, and leaned against it. Every inch of his body was aching and exhausted after this tumultuous day. Disengaging his suit, a hefty exhale puffed out when he got a waft of different spices blending right in his nose. An aroma that can't be beat.

Slugging further in, he eyed the beauty in his big shirt, swaying to nothing in particular. He will always be enraptured by you.

“You look like you need a long shower.” You eyeballed him from your peripheral view.

“That and something more.”

“And what might that be?” You were fully facing him, arms folded, a tiny smirk twitching its way on your face. “Because if it's dessert, then that's going to have to wait a while.” You didn't hold back on a cheese-eating grin.

“Then how about an offer?”

His stoic face didn't match that slyness to his voice, but you were ready to hear what he had to ‘offer.’

“Alright, I'm listening.” You loosen your arms, propping your elbows up on the counter.

The starvation in his eyes spoke for itself, but you wanted to hear them out loud. Eyes never leave, rapt by each other. Miguel stepped closer and closer, stopping right in front of you and letting his knuckle caress your cheek to your chin before grasping it and tilting your head back.

“I'll shower, but I want it alongside my dessert.” He was right next to your ear. “And I promise it won't ruin my appetite.”

“Well… I'll be willing to give that a chance on one condition.” You tip-toed up his chest with your fingers.

“And what's that?”

“You say I love you.”

There was a mischievous hint in his eyes. “Te amo, hermosa.”

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