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tteokdoroki · 1 month ago

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✎ᝰ. OCT 1ST ★ BONDAGE - satoru gojo .ᐟ

[CHAPTER ONE RAPUNZEL] satoru gojo as flynn rider + bondage. once upon a time, a girl trapped in a tower with nothing but her extremely lavish, long hair as company decides…fuck it and sleeps with a handsome stranger to get what she wants ( 9.1K ).

✧ chapter contents - minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, rapunzel!au, strangers to lovers, role reversal & switching, orgasm control, sensory deprivation, edging, thigh riding, spit kink, outer-course, begging, handjobs (m!recieving), reader's hair has blonde streaks but colour remains ambigous, rapunzel + fem!reader, flynn rider!satoru gojo.

✧ fairy godmother's note - yippieee!! kickstarting spooky season with this hefty boy. we have our glorious blue eyed king welcoming you all to our fourth annual tteokdoroki kinktober - i hope you all like what's planned this year and enjoy this piece to start with !! kissies hehe <3 - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ☆

“you’re going to take me to see the floating lights. or else.”

“or else, what, honey?”

ever since satoru gojo climbed the wooden lattice sewn to your tower by blooming, overgrown weeds and winding vines effectively invading the safest space in the world ( according to mother ), he’s been a pain in your fucking ass. when he’d first arrived, a towering and unfamiliar figure creeping about the main floor — your heart had dropped to the base of your stomach, pulsing rapidly with fear while he scoped the scene. you’d never come across a man before, mother had made sure of that, warning you of their cruelty and ugliness both inside and out. except satoru looked nothing like the descriptions your mother had left you with, you’d say that the man was stunning. not that you had much to compare him to.

his hair was a crisp white, appearing soft to the touch much like the snowfall that came in the winter months (something about playing in it. contrastingly, his eyes were a beautiful shade of baby blue — eerily similar to that of a summer sky free of cloudiness. he was too good looking to be human, for it to be natural, almost as if satoru had strolled straight out of one of the many fairytale books mother purchased for you from the markets. although, over the years you’ve probably read each book cover to cover a million times and not one fictional prince could even match this stranger’s sheer beauty.

though for now, this handsome stranger’s looks would get him nowhere with you. strangers always came with dangers, and since all you’d known throughout your years of living were these four walls, you weren’t going to take any chances with satoru and whatever problems he’d have brought with him. initially and out of an unfamiliar fear, you’d taken the nearest weapon to you (a frying pan) and cracked it right over his skull — watching the hunk of a human collapse to his knees and eventually black right out. if mother were around, she would have been proud. you’d tried not to feel any guilt trying to stuff his limp, lengthy limbs in your closet or under your bed because… well, what business does this stranger have with you? what the fuck is a man doing here? how did he get here? why is he here?

your whole life you’ve been convinced that the outside word was treacherous and that you had to stay inside, where it was safe, because people were horrible and selfish — intent on hunting you down for the powers that lay intertwined in the coils of your hair. those specific streaks that glow a valuable gold between the usual colour of your locks whenever you sang. mother would style them the way you liked every night — so long as you sung for her. you weren’t about to let mother down, nor risk the little life you built here together.

but, as it turns out, satoru wasn’t looking for the magic sprouting from your crown and entangled in your hair. it almost seemed like he had no idea about them either. rather, the moonlit haired man was looking for a place to lay low and hide after being chased through the forest for his satchel that seemingly carries something valuable. a crown… jewels that have a weight familiar to your head and sparkle like something you’ve seen before in a distant memory.

“come to think of it, honey, where is my satchel?” cocking his head to the side, sky blue eyes peer up at you with a charm that sends a foreign swarm of butterflies ripping through your stomach.

you frown, accusingly pointing your weapon of choice at gojo’s head and puffing out your chest to appear as intimidating as possible while giving him your name. “i’ve hidden it in a secure location—“

“it’s in that pot…isn’t it?”

as best as he can in the handcuffs he can call locks of your hair, the tower’s newfound infiltrator gestures towards a colourful pot in the corner of tne room. what? all you could think of in the moment is restraining him against the chair and why waste perfectly good rope when you’ve got such length to your own hair? the pot was the closest spot too.you knock him out swiftly after his guess, not giving gojo the satisfaction of finding his precious purse.

now, with the satchel hidden once more, satoru gojo semi-concussed and conscious once again — you realise that for the first time in your life, you have some kind of leverage to bargain with. you need someone to take you to see the floating lights that illuminate the sky on your birthday, every year. satoru needs his… crown? that so obviously doesn’t belong to him. of course, he would have stolen it, mother always said men were no good and always take what isn’t theirs (oh the irony). nonetheless, it was the perfect match of desires.

this way, you could prove to mother that you weren’t weak like she said you were. that you could cope by yourself and go explore the outside world. it wouldn’t be how it usually is with mother — where you ask for something and instantly get denied because she believes you to be too naive to function in a world outside of her. not this time. this time you have a bargaining chip. a satchel containing a valuable so rare that satoru was willing to risk his life for.

your captive wriggles against the restraints of your hair, woven around the chair like tough knots of a rope to keep him at bay. while the silver haired fox may not have canines like your mother suggested, you have no idea how powerful he could be. contrastingly, gojo finds your hair to be soft against his skin, ticklish along the veins of his arms despite how secure it has him strapped down. he’s forced to listen and to follow your every move across the floor plan, guided by the strength of your hair tugging him about.

“i have a proposition for you. come, look.” drawing back a curtain to reveal a painting from earlier — you recite your plan to your intruder. tomorrow evening, he will take you to see the floating lights … ahem…lanterns that drift across the sky on your birthday every year and then, return you safely to the tower before mother returns. it’s an easy deal. “i won’t give your satchel back until then,” you stutter out fiercely, adjusting your height and the grip you have on the cool metal frying pan. “you won’t get it back until you’ve taken me to see the lights.”

“oh whatever, i can just take it back, honey,” satoru goads, cockily ripping his head back in patronising laughter. even though the melodious sound makes irritation bubble hot underneath your skin, you can’t help the way your eyes are immediately drawn to the man’s Adam’s apple as it bobs delectably along with his chuckles. “as soon as i get out of this…hair? hair.” pale blue eyes flicker up to your face when gojo fixes himself in the seat he’s fixed to. they bore deeply into your soul, reading you with as much ease as you have flicking through the same three books that you own. you feel the weight of your hair shift around satoru’s shoulders as he gestures down to it nearly wrapped around his bulging forearms (not that you’d been paying attention). “this is kinda freaky, hon. don’cha think?” a slow sexy smirk tugs at the corners of gojo’s plush, glossy lips, or rather, he smoulders attempting to woo you into giving him what he wants. “you don’t seem like the freaky type, sweetheart.”

once more, a frustrated flame flares up in the middle of your chest — you’d feel offended for sure if you know what gojo meant. “freaky?”

“as in like… dubious?” he grins in response, running the pink tip of his tongue over his straight, perfectly white teeth. “this is basically bondage, yanno?”

you blink once. confused.

“improper?”

nothing, not one of these synonyms or explanations from the smiling idiot makes any more sense to you — bringing you to tilt your head to the side, innocently like a puppy that makes satoru laugh once more. this time it actually does something to you. sends weird butterflies fluttering in your tummy.

with a shake of snow white locks and an inhale that sounds amused as it goes, your hostage clicks his tongue — letting those cooling blue eyes slink up and down your virtuous frame . the swell of his lower lip trapped between pretty perfect teeth. “as in sexy, sweet thing.” satoru’s sickly sweet and powdered sugar coo slips through one ear and out of the other like hot, viscous molasses, you immediately shudder — flustered down to the meat on your bones, curling in on yourself as your faux intimidation tactics melt from your body and slip between the floorboards beneath your bare feet. “gosh! you’re so innocent,” his gaze rips away from you, and you fight back an unexpected whimper, missing the intruder’s gaze on you. “guess that’s what being trapped in a place like this does to a darlin’ thing like you. you wouldn’t last a day out there.”

he’s patronising you. speaking to you as though you’re no more than a child. however, being talked over and down on is all you’ve ever known, especially from your mother… but the way he acts reminds you of all of the advice she’s bestowed upon you over the years. mother tells you all the time, how naive and silly you are. how people will try and take advantage of your looks and your kindness. and so you decide to use your mother’s advice — if all humans, act like dogs, you’ll throw one a bone and wait for them to come back for more.

steeling yourself, you use a loop of your hair to drag gojo’s chair toward you — positioning him like a puppet beneath your cold, hard stare. he man spreads on the chair as best as he can in his restraints, leaning back while his seat tilts backwards on a forty-five degree angle — drawing your eyes from his face to his thick thighs momentarily. “you are going to take me to see the lights. it’s a promise, not a threat,” you whisper into the air that buzzes with tension between you both, leaning down and pinning gojo in place. you’re so close, so little proximity between your faces, that you can practically feel his warm breath lingering on the damp skin of your lips. “and i promise, i’ll make this worth your while.”

your voice lowers an octave, smooth and buttery and just right. like a snare for a wild white rabbit or bait on a hook — it peaks satoru’s interest, illicit thoughts and desires flashing behind his pupils like lightbulb ideas. “oh, honey. i can make you see stars alright,” he looks up at you then, with an expression of heat and thirst, dragging you into a pool of shining blue eyes that you barely manage to free yourself from. drowning in his attention once more. you stand over him proudly, between his legs smugly and all he wants to do is wipe the winning smile from your face and show you a real good time.

if he could, gojo would reach up and grab at your hips possessively, if he could he’d cup your neck and let his fingers toy with your baby hairs to pull you into a sloppy kiss. he can’t help the way white hot desire spreads through his system like throwing gasoline on an open fire and pile of wood. he grins mischievously, and in response, a brand new sensation stirs within your lower tummy — blistering hot as it zips between your chest and your core.

you sense the change in the atmosphere and gojo does too. both of you dying to scratch the itch on the part of your brain that is the control centre for lust. but you remind yourself what this is truly about, tell yourself not to get lost in the haze of it all, and will yourself to throw a loop of your hair over daring blue eyes like a blindfold — acting fast to secure a seat in an unsuspecting satoru gojo’s vacant lap.

he grunts in surprise, flinches when he realises one out of five of his senses are down. “what the fuck—?” gojo spits, cocky smirk melting away.

“shhh,” you taunt the man under your breath, leaning forward so that your voice coasts over the shell of his ear like a summery breeze. it invokes a sense of pride within your chest when your hostage tilts his head to follow your voice — his own breathing erratic and increasingly shallow with how he begins to struggle against your restraint on him. “you won’t get a chance to make me see those lights. not if i get you to see them first.”

in truth, you've got nothing planned. you’ve never been in the same room as a man, let alone pleasure them the way that you’ve read in books you’d borrowed from your mother.

the reality of the scene before you is daunting, giving up part of your virtue just to prove a point and get to see the floating lights like you’ve always wanted…but at the same time — it’s your one chance at freedom that’s at stake here. “you don’t sound so sure about that, sweetheart,” satoru taunts you with the peaks in his voice coltishly high. he continues to wrestle against the restraints of your hair — he’s strong and with a little more force he could escape but it’s like he senses your hesitancy.

like he knows for certain you won’t make good on your promise. just like mother.

that much is evident in the way his smooth, glossy lips tick upwards into an arrogant smirk.

your determination to prove him wrong grows more and more by the second, so before you succumb to your nerves again, you let your free hand claw with way over gojo’s right shoulder — steadying him, forcing him to sit still as you make a comfortable seat out of his widespread lap. he tenses at first, unable to see you move, but his grin remains, you have no idea if it’s because he’s proud of you or doubting you — but the expression only serves to piss you off even more.

“what’s next, sweetheart?”

a strangled growl is your only reply, the most menacing sound you can muster as you lift head upwards and his pool of loose silver-moon locks fall out of place. with a shuddering breath and a hold of gojo’s restraints, you press your lips to his in a shaky kiss — still unsure of where your lips go and what to do with your teeth and how to move your tongue. the captive beneath you knows it and takes advantage of your weakness, nipping at the swell of your lower lip gently — hardly enough to draw blood. satoru is testing you, telling you to be brave and take from him. prove to him that you’re willing to do whatever you want for him to make your silly childhood dream come true.

he allows you to fight back, despite this being your idea, lets you forcefully grab his angular jaw and capture him in a proper spit-swapping kiss. if he really wanted to, he’d find a way to escape from the tight bounds of your lengthy hair. but he doesn’t. gojo lets you swallow him down; push your tongue exploratively into his mouth and lap at his foreign flavour. he wants your tongue to take dominance from his, pink appendages sloppily rolling over one another, slipping and sliding as you take and take from satoru.

the kiss, already uncoordinated from your lack of experience, becomes hurried and hungry and wet the more you steal from satoru. you take and take and take until his glass his half full and his brain slowly becomes devoid of all logical thought. he comes the prey to your predatory mouth, missing the way your hand frees his pale cheek and fingers fluidly traverse down his broad shoulders, over his marble sculpted body to find purchase in the belt loops of his bothersome pants. now curious, you feel your way down the front of the fabric and grin into the hot and heavy kiss when satoru’s lets out a breathy, staggered moan into your open mouth.

his swelling erection twitches in response to your inquisitive hand, slender hips involuntarily jumping upwards.

“fuuuck,” satoru chuckles airily, words featherlight as they breeze along your lips. his head keens upwards too, chasing the weight of your hot sticky tongue in his mouth — desperate to be closer, craving the feeling of your nose knocking against his and your breath on his cheek from just how pressed up against each other you are. “fuck baby that’s it. kiss me more, touch me harder…” he’s addicted before he even knows what you have to offer, what he’s getting himself into. if you could see his eyes from under his binding, you’d bare witness to pleading blue pools swirling with a painful desire as he twitches beneath you, wriggling his wrists to get free. “c’mon, touch me.” he adds between sloppy pecks.

backing your face out of satoru’s reach, you break the drooly lip lock — letting your lungs fill with oxygen it had once missed, while your heaving chest syncs up with the intruder you have strapped to a chair. you pull away, connected to the man by not just your hair, but a string of saliva glazed across your lips — cautiously, your tongue dart out to break the the between your eager mouths, two sets of uneven panting filling the quiet air.

the two of you remain unmoving and unwilling to back down while you catch your breath; but your hand remains in the centre of gojo’s lap — rocking it back and forth, back and forth over his growing bulge. you stare at him, observing the reactions that he tries so hard to control. little twitches to his pink swollen lips and the flare of his nostrils whenever your palm makes contact with a sensitive spot. all this waiting is agony, the white haired captive might die if he doesn’t get more from you soon.

satoru whines impatiently as a result, knowing full well what you want and you won’t ask him again — not when you’re tauntingly squeezing his cock for a second, third, fourth, fifth time. he doesn’t fucking know — overwhelmed by waves of lust-infested blood rushes to its blistering hot tip. “fuck! okay, okay fine. i’ll take you! just—“ the chair rattles from the force of gojo’s struggle against your restraints, which hardly covers the low moan that escapes from between his plush glossy lips while his length pulses against the inside of his pants. “just fuck me. touch me. anything.”

something about his tone being all desperate and high activates a part of you that you never even knew existed. a part of you that knows what to do next… even if you haven’t acted it out, you’ve enough books to remember what the erotic ones say.

only then, after he pleads, do you use your shaky hands to tug down the garment — pulling them towards his knees as best as you can against your hair until the button pops free. the zipper follows easily and the waistband falls away from starlight skin and slender hips. everything gets hotter; any fresh air between your bodies becoming tinged with the need for sex as the scorching ghost of your fingertips leaves burn marks against satoru’s pelvis, and sends heatwaves of ardour from the base of his spine to the top of his skull.

satoru’s squirming pauses while he waits with uneven breathing for your next move — tongue pressing up against the barricade of his white teeth to prevent himself from taunting you further or perhaps to stop himself from belting out another pathetic set of whimpers. he wishes he could see you, those sweet innocent eyes looking down at him as you peel back the last layer of fabric stopping you from accessing his painfully hard erection. his underwear.

when you gasp in shock, pride weaves itself between the bones that protect his heart and lungs like an uninvited weed, he knows that he’s decent. longer than he is thick, bright red at his mushroomed tip and leaky from just how turned on he is. there’s a trail of silver moon hair that leads you down a path from his belly button to the thickest part of his dick too. but oh, how satoru gojo wishes he could see.. the way you lick your lips as drool drowns your tongue, mouth watering at the sight of his length slapping against his clothed stomach while he manspreads for you. the way your pupils dilate, the colour in your eyes swallowed by a dark veil of carnality.

this is a hunger you’ve never experienced before, a type of starvation that makes your hand lurch forward before your brain can control it, gripping satoru at the base of his milky, slender shaft. it’s the first time you’ve ever seen a cock; let alone held one between your tiny fingers — it’s much warmer than you anticipated, tacky to the touch from dribbles of precum running down from his untouched tip, but you like it. the weight, the wet sound it makes when you slightly flick your wrist around satoru. not to mention the stuttered groan he lets out, his head falling against the support of the chair and yanking slightly on the blindfold made of hair that covers his eyes.

if you weren’t sitting in his lap, you’d want him in your drooling mouth. you’d sink down to your knees like the girls in your naughty books and take him down your virgin throat, just so you could look up at satoru and watch the sweat bead down his jawline and run a track over his bobbing adam’s apple. but you’re not and you’ve got a point to prove, so you loop your hair around your other wrist to tighten his restraints and extend a thumb upward from his base to his seedy tip, jamming the pad of it through the slit where he pre forms in thick, creamy pearls. as white as those that come from an oyster.

“that’s it gorgeous, just like that…” satoru leers up at you huskily, voice tinged with neediness that he fails to mask. he seems to like the way you touch him and you’re sure to use a delicate hand when you smooth the supple pad of your thumb over the pad of his sensitive tip, rubbing his opaque precum into it sweetly. “touch me s’more? you can do it… i know you’re shy, can hear your breathing ‘n how heavy it is. shit, you’re new at this.” saliva slows down satoru’s salacious words as he rambles to you with swollen lips and rosy cheeks, angling his head in whatever direction your breath seems to be coming from.

he’s in tatters, destroyed by a few simple touches with his hard on smearing white across the front of his clothes. you roll your palm over his mushroomed cockhead next to test the waters and take pleasure in admiring the way he trembles, grasping at the arms of the chair you have him strapped to in order to ground himself. it’s torture for satoru to be this patient, killing him slowly from the inside out like a virus spreading across his brain and other vital organs — but it doesn’t mean you’re in any better state. practically dripping in his lap with your panties dampening more and more every time satoru so much as whimpers. past the point of being turned on by the sight of a strong, powerful man weak and blindfolded underneath you.

satoru bucks upward at your command, sucking in a breath as his sensitive, seedy slit bumps your palm once more. “s-shit… please.”

the improper ness of the entire situation sends a zap of electricity to your swelling clit. you’ve only ever imagined being with someone like this as you have seeing the floating lights — touching yourself beneath your skirts and under your painted ceilings whenever you were brave enough. now you’re here, spread over the thick thighs of a possible thief who begs you to jerk him off. “s-shut up,” you hiss as embarrassment and inexperience begins to shine through the deal you’ve struck with gojo, the fact that he can tell as much and still wants this has you soaked all the way through and aching for friction as well.

you’ve never been in possession of so much power in your life. mother never let you have it. but right now, you can taste it sparking between you and gojo, smell it in the air teeming mixed with a cocktail of your arousals. in the moment you realise that the silver haired man would cling onto every one of your sugar-coated words (no matter how nervous) if it meant he got the fuck he wanted in the end. and you would get to see your lights too.

“just… tell me what to do,” you say without realising how husky your own voice has gotten. “i promised you your crown, to make you feel good if you took me to see the lights. and i never go back on a promise. s-so tell me.” talking yourself into it and building up some more confidence, you circle over satoru’s bulbous cockhead again — gaze laser focused on the burning bright red colour as it oozes. you know that he likes it and it makes his head spin so much that he starts to fight against the restraint of your hair again. “i won’t let you go, not until this is over. so tell me what i can do to make you cum.”

despite not being able to see his entire face, gojo’s smug smile says it all — his perfect teeth cheerily on display, contrasting with the flustered pink tint to his cheeks. “cup it, make a fist around my cock so you can jerk me off’a little bit,” a haughty moan scratches at the walls of your captive’s throat when you follow his guidance and finally grip him fully, soft and supple hands easily dwarfed by the size of him. satoru’s shaft may be a little thinner, but he’s thick enough to fill your own throat and cause a stretch to your quivering hole with his balls being round, plump and full of white hot seed saved up just for you. “christ, squeeze my base a lil’ before you get movin’,” at first contact, satoru’s thighs tremble deliciously against your mound, blood rushing to your clit and through the forked veins that spiral down his length.

your senses are overwhelmed, he smells so good — of peppermint and a musky twang of sex act like dangerous smelling salts or fumes. you could get addicted if you weren’t careful. you’re super aware of each ridge and firm vein that decorates him and as you start to palm satoru steadily, you notice just how sticky your hand is — movements guided by the wet cream of his cock. slipping and sliding as your closed fist moves up and down, up and down, occasionally squeezing the base of him just like he asked. your knuckles brushing the soft bush of pubic hair at his pelvis. you can only imagine how everything feels for him, not being able to see at all.

the thought just barely crosses your mind — too focused on speeding up your soiled hand around gojo just to hear more of his angelic gripes and groans that rise and fall from his heaving chest. how good all of this must feel for the man without being able to see. every touch must make him tick and drip and throb achingly. he must feel weak too, completely vulnerable to anything you might do to him while blindfolded and unable to touch you because of bonds formed by your hair.

once you set a steady rhythm to your closed fist to jerk him off with, gojo takes a breather to announce his next command — head shaking side to side with moonlight locks sticking to his forehead in an attempt to alleviate the inferno of desire spreading through of his limbs. “now spit on it,” he states bluntly, an obvious dip to the octave in his voice. you can’t possibly imagine why he’d need spit; your hand is already glossed with a shiny layer of precum, tainting your knuckles from the viscosity.

you swallow thickly, but don’t dare stop pleasuring your captive stranger. “w-what?”

“are you kidding me just—“ leaning forward as best as he can while held back by the strong locks of your hair, like rope around his wrists. dopamine crackles over your brain like fireworks in an enclosed space at the scene that unfolds next, satoru pursing his lips to spit onto his own milky dick — letting the frothy mix from mouth join the mess that lubes the both of you up where connected. “just spit on it, honey. thought you wanted me to feel it.”

licking your lips, you rub down satoru’s girth far enough to drag the glob of spit down to his tender weighty balls, that pulse at your gentle touch. the feeling makes satoru’s entire body jolt like an electric shock — a gargled groan clambering out from the depths of his panting chest as his jaw goes slack and mouth falls open. “please. please spit on it, honey. god please.. need you to wet my cock. i need it so bad, promise i’ll be fucking good.” blind but with his remaining senses in tact, gojo remains largely vulnerable to your touch, his entire world tilting on one axis when you grip his dick a little harder at his request. causing a ring of white to gather where the circle of your wrist envelopes him.

at his begging. which you swear makes you gush like a small, erotic stream — your juices sloshing about in the gusset of your panties while your sex goes unattended.

so you nod obediently, tilting your head forward and parting your swollen lips to let a thick, syrupy string of your own spit ooze onto his plump and sore balls, stroking him rapidly to spread it over his creamy tip as well. your spit is contrastingly cool in comparison to the natural lubricant smeared all over your captive’s palpitating dick — causing it to grow impossibly harder. it slickens up your hand, evidence of the silver haired man’s arousal seeping through the fabric of his crumpled shirt and coils of your restrictive hair. neither of you can bring yourselves to care in the moment — all you can think to do is relish in gojo’s size.

he’s so big, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t wondered how satoru fit entirely inside your tight hole, stretching you out in the new future — earning yourself a fresh wave of liquid lava hot essence to your ruined panties. you dare to dream onwards, picturing the azure eyed stranger fucking you against the walls of the tower in every way the man knew possible… you have no idea what he’s capable of when untied. but the sight of him lazily thrusting into your filthied fist like it’s instinct, following it like a moth to a candle flame, is enough dream fuel to last you a lifetime. even after the deal is complete and the lights are just a distant memory.

eventually, you decide to pull off of satoru to give your wrist a break — walking your fingers up the broad expanse of his built chest to tweak his nipples between your tingling bodies. his entire frame is wracked with a case of shivers, mouth parting in a high-pitched, whiny whimper with strings of saliva connecting its roof to his tongue. you’re so pathetically turned on, drool pooling on your tongue like a hot flash flood.

it’s why you tighten your grip on your hair and thus his restraints, resulting in satoru staggering forward. closer, panting like a damn dog in rut. drawing your free hand up towards your lips and away from his pecs, the proximity between you becomes so little that satoru can practically smell the musky evidence of sex that you lick from your hand. “oh… you taste so good,” you lament in a dulcet tone, failing to miss the way gojo’s dangerous azure eyes dart about beneath his makeshift blindfold, probably dying to see you get a taste of him.

“d-don’t say that, you’ll make me fuckin’ cum, honey.” he gulps, involuntarily pumping his hips into the air, chasing your hand which he needs so desperately to feel good. “please don’t stop.” while begging you — satoru is the perfect picture of a ruined man, though you’re sure he would say the same about you if you hadn’t strapped your hair over his line of vision. his milky skin glistens as though it’s the very source of light for the silvery moon — illuminated by droplets of sweat from the exertion off fucking your fist like a squelching, welcoming pussy. his cheeks glow warmly with a dusty shade of pink and there’s a red ring forming around his lips from where he’s bitten them to control his wails of ecstasy.

succumbing to the obscenity of it all, you reach forward and lick a stripe into his hellfire hot mouth. effectively sharing the saltine flavour of gojo’s own precum with him while he languidly sucks all the tang from your pink appendage. his angel white lashes flutter shut at the heaviness of your tongue against his own. the kiss is messy and mismatched, saliva seeps from the corners of your mouth and drags a sticky train down your chin. parting briefly, you spit it into the middle of your palm — happily taking satoru’s cock back into your talented hold and providing a solace to soothe its passionate ache.

“ngh… i can feel you. f-fuck. feel you tryin’ not to grind against me, sweetheart.” somehow, gojo finds pockets of air to taunt you in — his voice an arousing mix of a raspy whine and cocky tone. “so wet, i can smell you too. so sweet. dripping all over your panties while you jerk me off. do you need that needy pussy taken care of?”

everything he’s said is true, while the man with the sweaty silver locks fought to escape the prison of your hair — desperate to see how you pleased him, you fought the growing pit in your stomach. the urge to use satoru for release. you’d never hit your peak with another person before, only your smaller-than-his fingers whenever mother left for more than a day or two.

you admit to nothing, continuing to stroke satoru to his own high — his panted moans accompanied by the sound of skin slapping skin from your hand fisting him to the high heavens. “please baby, i wanna help get you off. feel that wet little cunt. let me go, i’ll be so good to you if you let me touch your sweet c—“

“n-no! we had a deal. my rules.” you stutter, denying yourself. denying him.

“c’mon sweetheart,” a strained and petulant whine echoes throughout the tower — satoru thrusting shallowly through your closed hand in order to match his rhythm to the flick of your wrist. “please, god, baby. if you won’t let me touch you, or at least see you, then can you put that pretty pussy on my thigh? ride it real good? wanna know how you sound when you’re being pleasured…when you give into it all. please honey, give me somethin’ to work with. anythin’…”

gojo presses, like a disciple begging their god for mercy. begging you for mercy. there’s never been this much power in your reach, the ability to control a man who could easily over power you with your sex makes your mind feel egotistically weighty. your resolve crumbles just a tad, satoru’s neediness chipping away at its foundation until your hips instinctively position themselves perfectly over the swell of his right thigh. how bad could it be? giving him an inch when you’ve taken a mile from him. mother says you’ve never been good at lying and right now, you can no longer pretend like your hips aren’t dying to slide back and forth over your capture like a desperate whore.

like you don’t want to use him for more than just the floating lights, but to soothe the fire lit in your lower stomach — trailblazing down to your throbbing clit.

something clicks in your mind, all of your inhibitions are dashed from the tower as you briefly release satoru’s pathetically wet cock and restraints to pull up the skirts of your silk purple dress, exposing a slither of supple fat at your thighs. hurried movements deliver the same treatment to satoru’s pants. “this… this doesn’t change anything. doesn’t mean i’m letting you go just yet. it won’t affect our deal.” you warn the intruder but all sense of venom and authority is lost, evaporating into the temperate air and ending up as a piteous, meek mewl when your exposed mound makes first contact with man’s naked thigh.

if the sound of ruffling fabric hadn’t caught your hostage’s attention; the heat of your sopping sex against his moonlit skin definitely did. “fuck…that’s it. there we go, honey. put it on me,” a tinge of amusement lays evident in his gravelly voice, sets of slender digits peeking out of their hairy restraints to map out your doughy thighs and crawl their way up to the source of your essence. “i just knew you were wet for me, can feel how turned on you are.” as best as he can, gojo shifts until his knee is able to bump your clit — cooing in satisfaction when you ooze against him in response. you almost despise the way he laughs up at you condescendingly, as if he’s the one in control irregardless or the fact that you’re on top.

maybe it’s the dopamine rush that makes your dynamic unclear — neither of you wanting to give up or take the lead. the lust fizzing in the cracks and crevices of your brain make you cute and pliant for gojo but hair woven over his body keeps him subdued and thirsty for you.

like a gravitational pull, you buck downwards on the silver haired stranger’s toned thigh and smear the beginnings of your arousal all over him. you’ve barely been touched, oozing in viscous waves as you lose control over your body, rutting harder and faster. “watch your mouth.” you cry out, volume barely above a whisper, bottom lip trembling because it feels so good to use someone this way.

resuming your hold on his dripping cock again as you rock your hips — you rearrange the loop of hair keeping gojo in place, covering his eyes just as your hair begins to glow gold in time with your symphony of moans. “right, right, sorry. this doesn’t change things,” he flexes his thigh underneath your syrupy sex, strawberry tongue slipping out to wet his lips while your words fade away into a pretty little sigh. “but you wanna smack that messy clit all over my thigh, don’cha wanna make it creamy… even messier?” satoru all but jeers, the wisps of a smirk rising on the horizon of his lips now that your hips have formed their own rhythm over his leg.

they speed up their passionate dance on him, beads of glistening essence pearling between your two fat pussy lips. the slick smack of your naked cunt against his muscular thigh caused his dick to twitch in your hand — gojo thrusting up when you thrust down. he tilts his head down, catching a whiff of your heavenly scent in the air between you both. you hate that he’s right just as much as he hates not being able to see you and touch you properly — only catching glimpses of the golden light sparkling within your hair like a halo from underneath his makeshift blindfold.

you feel like you might be going insane, trapped underneath a non existent touch. like being pulled under waves of euphoria with aching lungs that don’t get enough air. near angelic screams of delight rip through the base of your throat contrast with the way you sinfully hump satoru and jerk him off to the point of his dick forming a creaminess in your hand. he bounces his thigh faster the higher you moan, rewarding you for all the hard work you put in to make this deal worth it.

“you’re no better… you’re filthy,”

“that’s right honey, so dirty. all cause of you. messy with you, why won’t you let me see?” the captive rambles, torn between fighting to break out of the bondage and listening to the lewd sticky noises your mound makes when gliding smoothly over his paled skin. satoru growls at how roughly your body moves above his own, face contorting lecherously, cheeks red and lips puffy — a mess from how long he’s been holding out for you. he’s a mess. it’s true. he won’t even deny it. “now fuckin’ stroke it baby, stroke me to the rhythm of your pussy bouncing up and down for me…please…”

simpering slightly, gojo’s fingers twitch against the arm of the chair — itching to grab at your ass and slam you down against his shaky thigh. if you palm him more, grip him tighter… he can better imagine the warmth of your cunt if he got the chance to slip inside. for now, you oblige his request, pulling tighter on the bindings of your hair while you them use as leverage — throwing yourself down on satoru as the lewd pap of your drooling pussy fills the musky tower air. “that’s it honey, up ‘n down. uppp ‘n down. keep goin’ just like that.”

you don’t have the energy to chide him, jostling about in satoru’s lap with wet whimpers bubbling up on the seams of your lips. pleasure begins to twist nice and tightly in your tummy, scalding you from the inside out and burning any logical thought from your brain. head beginning to roll to the side, you think about fully submitting to your capture. letting go entirely — you’d be satisfied. you’d get to cum. your deal might fall through but at least you’d get to see a different kind of light.

easily, you could just give up. it wouldn’t be hard to, not when gojo firmly plants his feet into the tiled floor and the power from his hips has hip rutting upwards to chase your fleshlight-like fist. a beefy cry battles its way out of his broad chest, vibrating through you as his quivering thigh juts your pretty, syrupy cunt every time you lift off of him.

it’s the perfect cycle; the ideal push and pull. you squeal in ecstasy, the hood of your clit dragged back so that your sensitive bundle of nerves is exposed to the blistering heat of satoru’s cool toned skin — taking you closer and closer to your high. streaks of your hair glow brighter than before, more intensely the louder you moan and just like they would if you were singing to help mother or while she brushed your hair. despite the strength in the light of your hair, everything else about you weakens, your grip on your hair, the pace of your hand as you palm satoru to the high heavens. you can’t think to care about any of it when you’re this close.

if mother could see you now, you don’t think you’d mind if she was disappointed in you.

but then you’re ripped away from the edge of cloud nine. satoru stops just short of the dam threatening to break. his thigh completely still with your juices splattering against him once your own hips come to a hault. a petulant howl echoes through the flower, frustrated tears stinging in your waterline as you feel your orgasm slip away from you cruelly. “what the fuck satoru?”

“sorry honey….” he laughs heartily, a slight rasp coating each syllable from each word that leaves his mouth. “don’t think i like this deal very much. just ‘cause you feel good doesn’t mean you can forget about me,” gesturing to the way you gush on and stain his thigh, the captive with the silver moon hair shrugs. “you don’t get to cum or see the lights unless i get to see you.”

gojo’s been good so far, hardly challenging you this whole time and instead, goading you into a world of pleasure you would have never experienced under mother’s watchful eye. instead, he was content to have his cock touched and his name wailed a hundred different ways — he’d shown no indication of breaking your deal aside from this. so in turn, you halfheartedly let go of the loop of hair that kept his sapphire stained eyes away from the world and held his wrists down to the arms of his chair. the restraints loosen just enough to please him and do what he needs to do. not enough to give him complete freedom.

“fuck the deal.” you cast it all to the side, relentlessly resuming grinding all over gojo — pushing your hips back as far as his knee to smother your swollen pleasure against it.

this time, satoru is able witness the way your bambi doe eyes roll back into your emptying skull.

with newfound motivation, the intruder begins quickly blinking away any darkness that caused a fuzz at the edge of his vision, gojo’s gaze immediately trickles down to your clenching hole, a treasure kept safe between your nectar glossed thighs; watching you ride him. “god, if i had my hands on you i’d rub that clit until you were squirting… i bet you’d like that, if i ruined that pussy. made her mine — you'd like that.” gojo’s stare returns to your eyes, flashing you his pearly whites through a condescending smile. his rushed and rambled teasing words make your creamy cunt wetter; body betraying you to violently shake above him.

though you find strength to keep up your end of the bargain. you’d sworn to make satoru see stars, encapsulating his rigid, sloppy dick between your nimble fingers once more. you even spit on it, earning a haughty bleat from between the man’s pretty (yet chatty) mouth. his sturdy body seizes underneath your touch as you take a firmer grip on him, palming him faster and faster — seedy, hot precum webbing over your knuckles once more. that’s when you finally get to see it. how murky and dark your captive’s vibrant eyes grow, like a pond, swimming with desire for you and only you.

the rapture that had once melted away from you like butter in a pan begins to blossom within you once again — willing you to beg for a chance at a real orgasm. “yes satoru! oh, yes please!” you squeak, short of breath and not entirely sure or what you’re even begging for. the golden light emitting from strands of your hair flare up again and your pussy throbs with an aching need to hit release. “please…”

a self congratulatory thread of cobalt lust weaves its way between the darkening midnight flecks in this eyes. “now look who’s begging,” clicking his tongue, gojo cocks his head to the side, relishing in his ability to finally look at you. drink in the way your chest bounces beneath the bodice of your lace orchid gown. it’s completely fucked, darkened by a crude mix of your arousals but it’s the most beautiful thing satoru has ever seen — only serving to rial him up even more… his own orgasm coming up over the hill. it burns at his internal organs, the lining of his stomach and the only way to alleviate this almost painful yet delectable twinge to his system is through you. “bet you’re only being nice ‘cause you’re close. well guess what? me too, be a good girl, honey, and cum for me.” he says, voice rising in both pitch and breathiness through his gritted teeth.

he’s going to cum.

and you’re too far gone to form a response with words just yet. you stop your own ministrations, payback for edging you earlier. his own cock dribbles pitifully as you rip his high away from him like pulling a rug from beneath his feet. gojo thrashes in his hair in response, azure eyes wild and almost wet with a sheen of tears — just as desperate to cum ad you are. “wh-what the fuck was that for?” he winges as though he’s a child on punishment, slender hips rising up to chase your soiled hand and perfect grip — shaft standing needily at attention. “honey…”

“you don’t get to cum until i get to cum. so either you work with me, satoru, or we’ll go all day.” you snap, slowly working your drenched cunt over the meat of his thigh once again, your puffy folds spread either side of it — squelching with the way you salaciously wind your hips all over him.

satoru basks in the sight, tongue poking out tauntingly between his teeth as he decides to test the waters. “fine, but at least let me help,” he suggests, watching eagerly as you throw your head back in the purest form of pleasure and grind on him harder. it’s clear as day that you need just as much of a push to cum as he does and he plans on giving it to you in just one condition. “untie me.”

“deal.” chewing on your lower lip, you let more of your hair unwind your glowing hair from all points that keep gojo strapped to the chair. enough for more of his hands to escape. then, he’s on you within a flash, hot tongue swirling its way over your clothed bosom and biting at your peaked nipples while his hands shoot to the globes of your ass so that he can drag you in harsh circles across his lap. he’s ravenous, out of control, as if he’s been waiting for this moment the entire time.

somewhere along the way, in one final burst of passion, your mouths find each other again — swapping streams of saliva as you lose yourselves to sex crazed minds teaming with lust hormones. with your lips smacking and bodies moving against each other in a delicious bump and grind — satoru forces a large hand between you both, fumbling against your cotton panties. the sound he lets out when he finally, finally gets his hands on your puffy clit is glutoral and animalistic, the simple touch sending a shock wave of electricity across every one of your synapses. dazing you for good.

you bear witness to the silver haired stranger losing his mind, falling from grace like an angel with blackened wings. and for you, he does the same, commiting the sight of your glowing halo-like strands of hair to memory — the coils that shine brighter the more you sing and sin for him.

he can’t stop gabbling, gargling on the spit you pour into one another — followed by howls and screams of pleasure. “oh you like that, hm? i bet that feels so good… so sweet ‘n wet under my touch.” hot fingers belonging to satoru pick up the pace between your sticky folds, flicking your clit feverishly and writing his claim against your cunt at the same time that you jam a thumb into the tricking slit of his dirty red cockhead. the pair of you jolt in one another’s arms, taking one too many steps towards the edge of cloud nine before you’re even ready for you.

“oh sweetheart, listen to you, sound so good. wish i could have you on my fat cock instead of my thigh. next time yeah? you’re gonna cum like this, aren’t you? gonna get my thigh nice and wet?” gojo growls, voice hoarse and layering perfectly over your whistle tone whines. his digits slow and start their greedy assault on your sex, edging you further and further as you wriggle and writhe at his words.

the world escapes you, the knot of lust that had been warping within you finally coming undone. “gods… s-satoru! please!” you shriek as though your voice is a gust of stormy wind — reverberating off of painted cobblestone walls. your free hand (no longer trapped by loops of your own hair) darts out to grab the intruder’s wrist, thighs locking around the hand that works you through an earth shattering high. the dam finally bursts, forcing open floodgates as your pussy releases streams of clear arousal in small spurts that soaks his entire lap and clothes.

gojo has no idea where to look, the smallest glimpse of your orgasm sending him hurtling over the edge as well — he doesn’t relent, viciously circling your precious pleasure mug and drawing out your release to match his own. his thick length spasms in your tiny hand, plump balls no longer able to contain the viscous, hot seed he has saved up all for you. just for you. he cums with a shout, abdomen contracting under your never-ending supple touch, ropes of white hot endlessly shoot from his overstimulated tip almost as though he’s a faucet that’s never been turned off.

he swears he almost blacks out, a white and sweaty mop of hair collapsing onto your shoulder as you slump in gojo’s lap — exhausted. as the air in the room cools, your hair no longer glowing and your chests syncing up to heave in an even rise and fall — you bring a lazy hand to the back of satoru’s head, toying with coils of his baby hair to help you both calm down.

a moment of quiet passes before you find the energy to whisper. “will you take me to see those floating lights now?”

your innocent question causes satoru to snort sleepily, pressing a wet chaste kiss to your sweaty cheek as the sound breaks free from his cherry-bitten lips. “a deal’s a deal, honey. as soon as you untie me… we’ll hit the road.”

neither of you move a muscle, however, still recovering from the sinful act you had just shared.

you use the time to reflect, a sense of excitement dawning on you. you were going to leave the tower. you were going to see the floating lights on your birthday. and most importantly, you were directly disobeying your mother to prove your capableness. and all you had to do to get your fairytale happy ending was give a handjob to a very handsome, very willing stranger.

the end.

#✐ᝰ KINKTOBER ‘24 #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jjk smut #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #satoru gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x y/n #jjk thirsts #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #gojo thirst

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jamminvroomvroom · 8 months ago

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4k celebration

i want to see feral lando. dom lando. choking and degrading and rough lando. maybe a bad race, maybe flirting with another driver. weeknd vibes lando. rough rough rough lando.

heat.

ln x fem!reader - 4k celebration

in which lando fucks you until the sun comes up :)

i am. feral. there are no words to describe how unhinged i am over this, this is super self indulgent and i cannot thank you enough anon hehe - lemme know what y’all think ily! <3

songs to set the mood: earned it by the weeknd, novacane by frank ocean, heaven angel by the driver era

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, pwp with a bit of plot, choking, crying, swearing, overstimulation, neck? riding? (hehe), degradation, a slap or two, soft dom!lando, also not so soft dom!lando (he switches up a bit), just feral unhinged vibes

2k words

foreglow:

the glow of light appearing in the sky preceding sunrise

the sunrise casts a tangerine foreglow over your bodies, the bed, everything the light can touch.

lando’s slumped against the headboard and you’re sprawled over his lap, legs hooked over his, with his hand working between your thighs.

it’s been hours. he’s had you spread out for him, countless positions and locations utilised. you were paying for your behaviour over the race weekend, but really, it was all his fault.

he’d been too cocky, looked too good, the australian air getting to his head. you’d been glowering at him since you’d arrived in the land down under, watching in erotically charged horror as he paraded around looking, to put it simply, slutty. tight shorts, arms out, neck on display for all to see. his fucking neck. god, it looked so thick, flexing every time he turned to smirk at you. the heat rendered you delirious, and so did he.

and you couldn’t even think about that fucking daddy bracelet he’d been sporting.

you decided you needed payback, in the form of some carefully constructed, harmless flirting with everyone from the mechanics to the guys on the pit wall old enough to be your father. but lo and behold, it worked, and that’s how you found yourself in this position.

the position in question?

being fucked every which way lando deemed fit until the sun came up.

“you learnt your lesson yet, baby?” lando grunts into your ear, pinching your clit between his fingers.

your thighs are soaked, shaking uncontrollably, and your head has lulled back against his shoulder. you’re breathing heavily, your back flush against his front and he’s restless. you’ve lost count of the number of orgasms you’ve been pushed to.

“lan.” you breathe, eyes fixated on the bracelet adorning his wrist. the kitschy trinket sends liquid fire down your spine and you spasm as he continues to swirl his calloused thumb over your clit.

“that’s not an answer.” he tuts, slipping his fingers through your slit until he’s circling your weeping entrance. you’re coated with slick, some of it his from where he’d fucked you up against the wall a good few hours ago. “have you,” he kisses your shoulder, trailing his fingers that were digging into your hip up your belly. “learnt your lesson?” his teeth sink into your flesh at the same time he pinches your nipple.

you gasp out a cry of his name, slurring incomprehensibly, “yes, yes, ‘m sorry, i’m so sorry.” you sob. his chest rumbles cruelly with laughter and you’re hurtling towards another release, the overstimulation making it easy for him to get you off.

“that’s all you needed to say, honey.” lando coos condescendingly.

as if he’s rewarding you for owning up, two of his fingers sink into your entrance, sliding deep. the sound of your wetness sends your eyes rolling back as he scissors his digits in and out of you, speeding them up into a delicious grind. you’re a mess in seconds, slumped into him as close as can be. kisses over your neck soothe you and you feel the wet rush of your release approaching quicker than you can comprehend it. you gush all over his fingers, dripping down his wrist, coating that annoying fucking bracelet.

“there you go, baby. so good for me.” he whispers, slowing his thrusts. “can you turn over for me? want you to look at me.”

you pant as you wriggle around in his arms until you’re straddling his lap. you can feel yourself dripping on him, his thick length sliding between your folds. the exhaustion renders you languid, ready to let him do just about whatever he wants to you next.

lando cups your breast, stroking gently over your nipple while he runs his tongue all over his long fingers. he loves to make you watch, torturing you until you’re needy for another release.

“you think you can do a few more for me?” lando smirks, bringing the fingers that he’d just licked clean to your other breast, fiddling with your other nipple. he has you rolling your hips against him, inadvertently chasing another high already. he loves it, revels in how he can reduce you to this, so desperate that you’re grinding down on his cock, a wet mess in his lap, all for him.

“yeah, lan.” you nod profusely, your tired eyes locked with his. the early morning sun hits them enticingly, making them sparkle green in the warm light. he looks disgustingly gorgeous like this, soft and yours, resting against the headboard, curls spilling over his forehead and into his eyes. if you didn’t know that he was mulling over a million twisted ideas in his brain that involved resorting you to tears of pleasure, you’d think he looked adorable.

“good.” he grins. “not even nearly done with you.” he looks evil; your thighs clench around his hips.

without moving you off of his lap, he uses his strength to slide down the bed until he lays flat. he beckons you to crawl up his body, and you find the strength to wriggle over him, thighs resting on either side of his neck when he stops you.

“you gonna slide your pretty little cunt over my neck?” lando asks, wrapping his huge hands around your thighs. you gulp, staring down at him dumbfounded. “don’t look at me like i’m crazy, baby. you think i don’t see you staring at it with that special little look in your eyes?” he teases. “get to fucking work, i’m not gonna ask again.”

hesitantly, you lower yourself against his his skin, flaming red with embarrassment and lust. you can’t lie and pretend that you aren’t utterly enticed by this, that you aren’t leaking down your thighs at the prospect of sliding your pussy along his tanned, flexed flesh. the adventurousness of the escapade makes your legs tremble, nerves eating you alive, but it’s all worth it when you feel that first glide.

you curse out, loud and breathy, the new sensation creating lewd sounds between you. he’s obsessed, staring up at you in mischievous awe as you rock your hips backwards and forwards. you tangle one hand in his hair, tugging hard in sheer desperation, while the other hand balances you against the headboard so you don’t crush him. he guides your hips like he wants to die like this, suffocated by you and everything you have to offer him.

“oh my fucking god.” you choke out a moan, jaw hanging agape as you continue to slide against him. every time you move forwards, you feel the delectable prickle of his trimmed facial hair scratching against your inner thighs and your eyes squeeze shut each time, pure pleasure bubbling in the pit of your belly.

“you have no idea how fucking good you look.” lando rasps, digging his fingertips into the meat of your thighs. you’re so tense, teetering on the very edge. the strength he possesses, his composure while you’re sitting on his fucking neck makes you throb.

you gaze down at him, feral, and it does something to him, because he’s yanking you up onto his parted lips, burying his face as far as it will go. you yelp, collapsing into the headboard as he holds you down on his tongue, lapping up your mess.

“can taste us.” he mumbles into the flesh of your cunt, barely audible, but you hear it and it makes you shiver. you black out as your orgasm hits, your ears ringing as bliss courses through your limp body like a delicious electric shock. your nerves are shot when he rolls you onto your back.

“fucking heaven.” lando groans, crawling over you as he licks his lips.

he’s invigorated by the taste of you, how spent you are, and how it’s all his fault. you can’t string a sentence together, but you’re grabbing at his toned body like you’re begging silently for more, anything. he needs to drive into you, fill up up, make you remember that your little games will always lead back to this, the reminder that you’re his.

“you sensitive, honey?” he growls, hand sliding between your legs while his necklace rests in the valley between your breasts. you whimper at the sensation, overloaded, nodding. you both know you need more; he needs more. “tough.”

lando practically folds you in half when he fucks into you, giving you no solace in adjusting to him. he ruts into you hard, fast, unrelenting as he sinks deeper and deeper with every thrust.

“you’re gonna behave from now on. you don’t need to make me jealous for me to fuck you.” he grunts. his slaps your hip, the harsh snap leaving a sting that has you convulsing. “this is what you deserve isn’t it? whoring yourself out because you were a wet mess for me all weekend.”

you whine his name, sobs wracking your body. he feels utterly divine hammering into you like life itself depends on it. you’ve lost track of where he stops and you begin, stars behind your eyes that turn into butterflies festering in your belly. you’re so full, flushed beneath him, gushing every time he opens his dirty fucking mouth.

“crying for me, love?” he mocks, lowering himself to get even closer to you, his tongue finding your tears tracks and licking the salty residue away until you’re shuddering.

“please, lando, please, told you i’m sorry.” you plead, begging for something undisclosed, but it’s okay, because he knows exactly what to do with you.

“be fucking quiet.” lando coos once more, sickeningly unsympathetic.

but you can’t help it, whimpering out his name, begging for some form of relief, or mercy, or for him to just fuck you impossibly harder. how can you be quiet when he’s tearing you so perfectly apart?

lando doesn’t like being disobeyed, so when you continue to sob, loud and lewdly, his hand finds it’s way to the base of your throat. your jaw goes slack, wheezing at the intense rush you get when he squeezes slowly, and you can’t help but let go.

“fucking- lando!” you writhe.

“i know, baby, i know.” he shushes you, hooking your leg even higher so that he can bury himself as deep as possible.

you spasm hard, impossibly tight around him and he stutters, collapsing you both hard into the mattress. you hold him so, so tight as he cums, shooting into you. you can feel him leaking out of you already, white hot, and laying there in a heap of sweat and adoration. he breathes a laugh, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“are you okay, honey?” he whispers, kissing your collarbone.

“just peachy. a bit knackered.” you giggle, tangling your fingers into his damp curls.

“so, you liked the bracelet then?” he teases, nose bumping against your cheek as he raises his wrist to your eye line.

“i think it needs a clean.” you wrinkle your nose, thinking about what the beads had been exposed to over the last few hours.

“let’s shower, hm? then we can watch the sunrise.” lando suggests, sitting you up slowly.

“you’re gonna need to carry me.” your legs are still quivering.

“anything for you.” he says, hand over his heart.

45 minutes later, the sun is sitting pretty, high in the sky.

7:26am, the clock reads. the melbourne skyline glimmers hot with the rise of a new day.

you’re snuggled into his side, wet hair cooling the heat of damp skin. your eyes flutter, barely fighting the urgent need to sleep.

“you have no idea how much i love you.” lando caresses your stringy locks, pushing the hair from your eyes.

your bare bodies mould together, basking in the orange of the dawn.

“love you.” you mutter, brushing your lips against his chest in an open mouthed kiss. “promise i’ll start behaving.” you snicker.

“but baby, you know i love it when you’re bad.”

“okay, i’ll remember that… daddy.” you retort, a teasing lilt to your tone.

he ignores the way his blood rushes south, too conscious of your exhausted body - and his own - to climb on top of you and fuck you until the sun sets once more.

“get some sleep.” he whispers through gritted teeth.

you sink into sleep while he watches over you. the view from the hotel room is gorgeous, breathtaking, but why would he give it even a millisecond of his attention when he has you?

head? empty.

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starsenha · 19 days ago

Text

BEST BIRTHDAY EVER / Y.J

Pairing ◊ sub!fem!reader x harddom!jungwon

Genre ◊ SMUT, establish relationship, fluff

Warnings ◊ SMUT (minors dni), petnames, lingerie, bratty reader, manhandle, jungwon is a little mean and a big tease, bits of dacryphilia, degradation, praising, oral (m. receiving), use of handcuffs, choking, marking (f. receiving), orgasm control, spanking, squirting, unprotected sex (don't do it babes) so much dirty talk hehe, aftercare

Word count ◊ 15,2k (why is it so long???)

Summary ◊ It was Jungwon's birthday, and let's say he did whatever he wanted with you.

a/n: thank you to anon for the request! i got a little carried away I'm so sorry i didn't plan for it to be this long 😭

The soft light of early morning filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. You shifted beneath the covers, the familiar warmth beside you making you smile even before you opened your eyes. Jungwon was still sound asleep, his arm draped over your waist, breathing slow and even.

Today was special—his birthday. You couldn’t help but feel a little flutter of excitement, knowing that you’d get to spend the entire day with him, making it perfect.

Slowly, you turned toward him, his peaceful expression making your heart melt. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, and you carefully reached up to brush it aside. At the touch, he stirred slightly but didn’t wake. You smiled, watching him for a moment longer before you whispered softly, “Happy birthday, Wonnie.”

A sleepy smile spread across his lips, but his eyes remained closed. “Mmm, thank you,” he mumbled, his voice deep and raspy from sleep. His arm tightened around your waist, pulling you closer. “Come here,” he added, his tone playful but still soft as if he didn’t want to disturb the peaceful quiet of the morning.

You let out a small laugh, adjusting your position so you were fully pressed against him, his warmth seeping into your skin. His chest rose and fell steadily against you as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath tickling your skin.

"Don't you want to get up?" you teased, though your body had no desire to move from this spot either. "I could make you breakfast in bed, or we could start the day with—"

Jungwon cut you off with a soft groan. "No. Stay. Just stay here with me," he mumbled, his voice even lower now. "You know I love waking up like this. Can’t we stay like this all day?"

You smiled against his hair, feeling the warmth of his breath on your collarbone. “All day, huh? Wonnie, you know I have surprises planned, right? And you can’t stay in bed forever.”

He lifted his head slightly, just enough to meet your eyes. His gaze was sleepy but warm, filled with affection. “I don’t need surprises,” he said, his tone soft but serious. “I have you, and that’s more than enough.”

His words made your heart skip a beat, and you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You’re such a sap,” you whispered, but your voice betrayed the emotion swelling inside you.

Jungwon chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Only for you,” he said, his lips brushing against your neck. He let out a contented sigh and nuzzled even closer, his fingers tracing slow patterns on your back.

You gently pried yourself from his embrace and slid out of bed. He groaned softly, still half-asleep, trying to pull you back down, but you slipped through his grasp with a soft laugh.

"Where are you going?" he mumbled, his voice laced with sleepiness and a hint of confusion.

"I told you, birthday boy," you whispered, bending down to kiss his forehead, "I'm making you breakfast."

Jungwon's eyes opened just enough to reveal a mischievous smile. "Pancakes?" he asked, his voice hopeful but still raspy from sleep.

You grinned. “What else would it be? It’s the only thing I’m good at."

He chuckled as you left the bedroom and padded into the kitchen. You weren’t a master chef, not by a long shot, but pancakes? Pancakes you could do. You grabbed the ingredients, humming to yourself as you mixed the batter, trying to remember all the little tricks to make them extra fluffy.

Just as you flipped the first pancake, your phone buzzed loudly on the counter. Wiping your hands on a towel, you glanced down at the screen.

Group chat - “Operation Surprise Jungwon 🎉”

[Riks] Yo we need the apartment by 1 pm! What time can you get him out?

[Seong] We still need balloons! And Jake can’t find the cake!

[Yun] Okay, in my defense, there are like three cake shops in this area

[Hee] Are we sure this is going to work? He’s way too smart. He’ll figure it out

[Hoon] No, he won’t. He’s oblivious. Trust me

You stifled a laugh, already feeling the impending chaos. Of course, Sunghoon would call Jungwon oblivious, but you knew better. Jungwon was very observant, and there was no way this would be easy.

[You] Guys, chill. I’ll get him out of the apartment. You just handle the rest

[Sun] Don't worry, I’m basically a party planning expert. Just keep him distracted

[Riks] It’s always Sun who’s ‘basically’ an expert at everything.*

[Sun] And I always deliver. Watch and learn, kid

You couldn’t help but giggle. You loved Jungwon’s friends, but this group chat was pure chaos. You turned back to the stove and quickly finished making the pancakes, stacking them into a perfect tower, drizzling them with syrup, and adding some fresh fruit on the side. Not bad for someone who rarely cooked.

Balancing the tray carefully, you walked back into the bedroom. Jungwon was sprawled across the bed, looking too comfortable for someone who was supposed to be up and moving.

"Breakfast is served," you said with a flourish, setting the tray down in front of him.

Jungwon’s eyes lit up when he saw the pancakes. “Wow,” he said, sitting up and pulling you down next to him. “You went all out.”

You watched him take his first bite, the satisfaction evident on his face. "Okay, okay, these are really good."

“Of course they are,” you said smugly, nudging him playfully. "You forget who you're dating. Master of pancakes right here."

He laughed, and for a while, you both sat in bed, eating pancakes and exchanging light conversation. It was peaceful, but the group chat was going wild, and you knew you had to get him out of the apartment soon.

After a while, you wiped your hands and tried to sound casual. “So, I was thinking… we should go to that cute café downtown today.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, his fork pausing mid-air. “The café?”

You nodded, maintaining a nonchalant expression. “Yeah, you know, the one you love. We could spend the afternoon there. Coffee, pastries, just... hang out."

He gave you a long look, his gaze slightly suspicious, but then he smiled. “Alright. If you want to go, let’s go.”

Relieved, you shot him a bright smile. “Great! We should get going soon."

An hour later, you were at the café, sipping lattes and trying your best to keep things casual. But every few minutes, your phone buzzed with new messages from the chaotic group chat.

[Seong] Riki is tangled in the streamers

[Yun] The cake is here, but Jay ate half the frosting.

[Seong] You said it tasted bad anyway! I was testing it. And you know I need sweets when you guys piss me off.

[Hee] Guys, focus! It looks like a clown car exploded in here.*

[Riks] Can we have a group intervention on Jay’s balloon-tying skills?

[Sun] I told you, leave the decorating to me. You guys are amateurs.*

You held back a snort, and Jungwon glanced up from his phone. “What’s so funny?”

You quickly stuffed your phone in your pocket. “Oh, nothing. Just a meme."

He gave you a skeptical look but didn’t press further, which was a relief. You were running out of excuses fast.

For the next couple of hours, you kept him busy with pastries, endless conversation, and even a spontaneous walk through the nearby park. But the longer you stayed out, the more restless Jungwon became. You could feel his eyes on you, as if he was trying to piece something together.

Finally, you were back at the café, and Jungwon sat across from you, sipping his coffee slowly. Too slowly. He had that look on his face—the one where you knew he was analyzing everything.

You pulled out your phone to show him a funny video, trying to distract him again. But just as you handed it over, a notification popped up from the group chat.

Group chat - “Operation Surprise Jungwon 🎉”

[Sun] We’re almost done! Just stall him for another 30 minutes!*

Jungwon’s eyes flicked to the screen, and you froze. For a split second, you knew he saw the message, but his expression remained completely neutral. He handed the phone back to you with a casual smile. “Cute video.”

Oh no.

You felt your stomach twist with nerves. Had he seen it? Did he know?

You tried to play it cool. “Right? It’s hilarious.”

Jungwon leaned back in his chair, stretching. “So… how long do you plan to keep me out of the apartment?”

Your eyes widened in panic. “What? What do you mean?”

He smirked, that all-too-familiar, knowing look in his eyes. “I’ve known something was up since breakfast, baby. You’ve been acting weird all day.” He leaned forward, his voice low and teasing. “But I’m playing along, because I want to see how this all unfolds.”

You let out a groan, dropping your face into your hands. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”

You peeked at him through your fingers, your face flushed with embarrassment. “Well, you didn’t say anything…”

Jungwon grinned, leaning over to kiss your forehead. “Because it’s cute watching you try to surprise me. And it’s my birthday, so I’m having fun letting you think you’re pulling it off.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, even though you were mortified. “You’re impossible.”

“I know,” he said, with a playful wink. "But we should probably head home soon. My surprise must be waiting.”

When you finally walked into the apartment, Jungwon feigned surprise—poorly—as his friends jumped out from behind the couch with loud shouts of “Happy Birthday!” Streamers hung crookedly from the ceiling, the cake had a dent in the frosting, and Riki had somehow gotten tangled in the leftover balloons.

But the look of joy on Jungwon’s face made it all worth it.

"Best. Birthday. Ever," he whispered, wrapping his arms around you, as everyone else broke into chaotic laughter.

The party had turned out to be surprisingly relaxed, despite the chaos of the setup. Once everyone was settled, it became a warm, laid-back gathering. The decorations were slightly crooked, and the cake had a small dent from Jay's "taste test," but none of that mattered. Jungwon was genuinely happy, his smile never fading as he mingled with his friends and you. The sound of laughter filled the apartment, music played softly in the background, and everyone was stretched out on the couches and floor, chatting, eating, and sipping on drinks.

You were relieved that everything had gone smoothly. Riki was telling some outrageous story about a prank gone wrong at their dorm, and everyone was laughing—except Sunoo, who was groaning, clearly remembering the mess it had caused.

Jungwon, who had been sitting next to you on the couch, leaned in close and whispered, “This is perfect. Thank you.”

You turned to him, smiling. “I’m just glad you’re happy.”

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze and smiled back, his eyes soft with affection. “I really am.”

As the evening wore on, the conversation shifted towards the main event: presents. Jungwon’s friends were clearly excited, already teasing each other about who had the best gift.

“Alright, birthday boy,” Jay called out, sitting up straight. “Time to open the presents.”

Jungwon chuckled, leaning back into the couch, looking relaxed and content. “Do I get a say in this?”

“Nope!” Jake replied, grinning as he handed over his present. “Let’s start with mine.”

Jungwon opened it eagerly, revealing a sleek black hoodie. “Ah, I love this,” he said, holding it up to examine it. “Thanks, Jake.”

“No problem,” Jake said with a grin.

Next was Sunoo, who gifted him a fancy skincare set. “Because you need to keep that baby face looking good,” Sunoo said with a wink.

Jungwon laughed, shaking his head. “I knew you’d get me something like this. But seriously, thanks, Sunoo.”

Each gift was thoughtful and personal, making Jungwon smile even more. As the pile of presents dwindled, you could feel your heart racing in anticipation. You had spent a lot of time thinking about what to get him, and while you were confident in your choice, you knew it was a significant purchase for you as a student.

Finally, it was your turn.

You handed him a small, neatly wrapped box, trying to keep your nervousness in check. Jungwon’s eyes lit up as he took it from you, sensing that this one was special.

“For you,” you said softly, sitting beside him.

He carefully unwrapped the box, revealing a luxurious watch inside. It was sleek, elegant, and undeniably expensive. Jungwon’s eyes widened, and he looked from the watch to you, clearly touched.

“Wow,” he whispered, running his fingers over the watch’s face. “This is... incredible.”

You felt your cheeks heat up as you shrugged, trying to seem casual. “I know you’ve wanted a nice watch for a while, and I just... I wanted to get you something special.”

Jungwon shook his head, clearly overwhelmed. “But this must’ve cost so much… You’re still a student. You didn’t have to do this.”

You smiled softly, taking his hand. “I wanted to. You deserve something nice, and it’s your birthday.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes filled with emotion. Then, he pulled you into a tight hug, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Thank you,” he murmured into your ear. “This is one of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten.”

You hugged him back, feeling warmth spread through your chest. “I’m glad you like it.”

Just as you were about to pull away, Heeseung, who had been suspiciously quiet, cleared his throat. “Well, now that we’ve seen the sweet, thoughtful gifts… it’s time for mine.”

He reached into his bag and pulled out a large, rectangular box wrapped in simple paper, handing it over to Jungwon with a smirk. “You’re gonna love this.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, already laughing. “Should I be scared?”

“Maybe a little,” Heeseung replied, grinning like he was about to cause chaos. “But don’t worry, you’ll definitely have fun.”

Jungwon ripped open the wrapping paper, and as the box revealed its contents, you felt your face heat up instantly. Inside was a set of… handcuffs. Not just any handcuffs—along with them were other accessories, all clearly intended for the bedroom. Your eyes widened, and your mouth dropped open in shock.

Jungwon stared at the box's contents for a moment before breaking into a wide grin. “Oh my God, Hee.”

Heeseung threw his head back, laughing. “I know you’ve been talking about trying this. So I figured, why not give you a little help?”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Your face burned with embarrassment, and you quickly buried your face in your hands, mortified. “Lee Heeseung!” you squeaked, your voice muffled behind your hands.

The entire group burst into laughter, everyone looking between you, Jungwon, and Heeseung with knowing grins. Jungwon, on the other hand, had an amused smirk on his face as he leaned closer to you.

“You’re blushing so much,” he teased, his voice low and playful.

You peeked through your fingers, glaring at him, though your face was still bright red. “I can’t believe this. Did you really talk to Heeseung about... this?”

Jungwon chuckled softly, his hand resting on your knee. “Maybe once or twice. But hey,” he said, raising an eyebrow, “now we’ve got the tools.”

You swatted his arm, your embarrassment only growing as everyone around you howled with laughter. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

Heeseung, still grinning mischievously, leaned back in his chair. “What can I say? I’m a generous friend.”

Sunoo chimed in, laughing as he nudged Heeseung. “You really went all out for this one.”

Jake, always the playful one, added, “We’ll just leave you two alone with that gift later. Don’t worry, we won’t ask any questions.”

You groaned, hiding your face in Jungwon’s shoulder this time, while Jungwon laughed and wrapped his arm around you protectively. “Alright, alright, leave her alone,” he said, though the amusement was clear in his voice. “I appreciate the gift, Heeseung. Really.”

Heeseung winked. “Just make sure to thank me later.”

As the laughter died down and the teasing subsided, you slowly recovered from your embarrassment, though you couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes for a while. Jungwon, ever the gentleman, kept his arm around you, his fingers occasionally brushing against your back in comfort.

Despite the embarrassment, the atmosphere remained light and filled with joy. Jungwon had been surrounded by the people he cared about most, and even though Heeseung’s gift had been beyond inappropriate, it was all in good fun.

The party was still in full swing. Laughter filled the room, and the music played softly in the background as Jungwon’s friends chattered away, swapping stories and teasing each other. You were sitting comfortably beside Jungwon on the couch, feeling the warmth of the evening settling in as you both enjoyed the laid-back vibe. Everyone was spread out, joking around, while the remnants of food and cake littered the coffee table.

Jungwon had been quiet for a bit, though, leaning closer to you every now and then, his arm casually draped across the back of the couch, fingers brushing your shoulder. His friends were too engrossed in a conversation about the most embarrassing moments they’d had on stage, so they weren’t paying much attention to the two of you.

Suddenly, you felt Jungwon’s lips graze your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as his soft voice reached you. “You’ve been teasing me all day, you know that?”

You blinked, heat rushing to your face as you turned slightly toward him, trying to play it cool despite the immediate flutter in your chest. “What are you talking about?” you whispered back, acting innocent, though you knew exactly what he meant. You’d been a little more playful, pushing his buttons just enough to see how far you could go.

He chuckled lowly, his breath warm against your ear. “Don’t play dumb, baby. You know exactly what I mean.” His fingers trailed lightly down your arm, almost imperceptibly, as he continued. “You’ve been driving me crazy since this morning. Being all sweet, giving me that expensive gift…” His voice lowered further, a wicked edge to his tone. “But I’ve got a gift for you too. One I can’t wait to give you when we’re alone.”

You swallowed hard, trying not to let your reaction show. Your heart raced at the filthy promise behind his words, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he was affecting you. Not yet.

“Oh?” you replied, raising an eyebrow and leaning back just enough to meet his gaze. You smirked, keeping your voice teasing. “What makes you think I want your gift?”

His eyes darkened slightly, and he shifted even closer, his knee brushing against yours. “You can act like a brat all you want,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “but I know how much you want it. You’re not as good at hiding it as you think.”

Your pulse quickened, but you refused to back down. “You’re pretty confident,” you shot back, smirking as you glanced toward the others, pretending to be absorbed in their conversation.

Jungwon chuckled again, the sound sending a delicious shiver down your spine. “Confident?” He leaned in so close you could feel his breath against your neck. “Maybe. But I’m also the birthday boy, remember? I get to do whatever I want today.” His voice dropped, so low only you could hear. “And that means when we’re alone later, I’m going to make you pay for being such a tease.”

You bit your lip, the heat of his words spreading through you, but you weren’t ready to let him win so easily. You decided to push a little further, tilting your head slightly so your lips were closer to his ear. “You think you’re in control just because it’s your birthday?” you whispered back, your voice laced with playful defiance. “I could walk out of this room right now and leave you wanting.”

Jungwon’s eyes flashed with something darker, and the grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly. He gave you a slow, dangerous smile, one that made your stomach flip. “You could try,” he whispered, his voice like velvet, “but we both know you won’t. You love pushing me, don’t you? Seeing how far you can go before I snap.”

You inhaled sharply, your bravado faltering for just a second as his words sent a thrill through you. He was right, of course. You loved getting him riled up, seeing the control he usually had over himself start to slip.

Before you could respond, he leaned in even closer, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just below your ear. “But remember, baby,” he whispered, his voice full of promise, “tonight’s my night. And when I finally get you alone…” He paused, letting the tension build. “You’ll wish you hadn’t been such a brat.”

You felt your breath catch, heat pooling in your stomach as you struggled to maintain your composure. He was pushing *you* now, and the anticipation was building with every filthy word he whispered.

Not one to back down, you gave him a sly smile and leaned in, your lips grazing his ear as you whispered, “We’ll see about that, Wonnie.”

------

The door finally closed behind the last of Jungwon’s friends, and you let out a long sigh, leaning back against the couch. The party had been a success—fun, relaxed, and full of laughter—but now that it was just the two of you, the energy in the room felt different. You started picking up empty cups and plates, your mind still buzzing with everything that had happened, but there was a sense of anticipation hanging in the air.

Jungwon, however, was in no rush. You could feel his eyes on you as you gathered the clutter from the table, and when you glanced over at him, he had that look on his face—the smug, knowing smirk that told you exactly what was on his mind.

“You’re not going to help me clean up?” you asked, pretending to be annoyed as you wiped the counter.

Jungwon leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Why would I do that when I’ve got something way more fun in mind?”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool even though the way he was looking at you sent a wave of heat through your body. “Oh, really? And what exactly do you have in mind, birthday boy?”

Without warning, he crossed the room in a few quick strides, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward him. You let out a small gasp, more out of surprise than anything, and dropped the dish towel onto the floor. He didn’t give you time to think as he tugged you towards the bedroom, his grip firm but playful.

“Jungwon!” you protested, though the laughter in your voice betrayed you. “I need to clean up!”

“Forget that,” he said, smirking down at you as he pulled you closer. “You’ve had all day to tease me, and I’ve been patient long enough.” His tone was low, his voice full of command, and it sent shivers down your spine. “It’s my birthday, remember?”

You rolled your eyes, even though you were secretly loving every second of this. “You think you get to boss me around just because it’s your birthday?”

Jungwon didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he pulled you into the bedroom, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Before you could say anything else, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you—hard. The intensity of it caught you off guard, but you quickly melted into him, feeling the heat of his body press against yours. His kiss was hungry, dominant, and you could feel his desire radiating from him as he claimed your lips.

When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, and he kept you pressed close, his forehead resting against yours. “I don’t think,” he whispered, his voice husky, “I know.”

You couldn’t help the way your heart raced at the way he said it. His hands dropped from your face, but before you could recover, he reached into a drawer by the bed and pulled out a small, pink bag with delicate ribbons tied around it. He handed it to you, his smirk still firmly in place.

“This is for you,” he said, his tone playful but commanding.

You blinked, surprised, looking between him and the bag. “Wait… you got me a present?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Jungwon, it’s your birthday. I’m supposed to be the one giving you gifts.”

He chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Oh, trust me. This is a gift for both of us.” His voice was filled with amusement as he nodded toward the bag. “Open it.”

Curiosity getting the better of you, you carefully untied the ribbon and opened the bag, pulling out its contents. Your eyes widened as you held up the delicate lingerie set inside. It was light pink, all lace, with matching lace stockings. The fabric was soft and sheer, leaving very little to the imagination.

You stared at the set for a moment, your heart skipping a beat. “You’ve really outdone yourself,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Planning something specific with this, I assume?”

Jungwon’s smirk deepened, his eyes dark with intent. “I think it’ll look perfect on you.”

You bit your lip, feeling the familiar thrill of anticipation bubbling up inside you, but you weren’t going to make it that easy for him. “Hmm, not sure,” you said, holding the lingerie up with a teasing smile. “It’s cute, but maybe I’m not in the mood to wear it tonight.”

His eyes narrowed, clearly catching on to your bratty tone. He took a step closer, his presence all-consuming. “Don’t play with me, baby,” he said softly, his voice carrying a warning. “I’ve been patient all day. You’ve had your fun.” His hand came up to gently brush the hair from your face, his fingers lingering at your jaw. “Now, I’m going to have mine.”

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks at his words, but you weren’t ready to give in completely. “But it’s your birthday,” you said, pouting slightly. “Aren’t I supposed to be the one deciding how the night goes?”

Jungwon’s expression darkened, but his lips curled into a wicked smile. “You might want to remember who’s in charge tonight.” His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “I said I have a present for you, and you’re going to do exactly what I say.”

The air between you crackled with tension, and your pulse quickened as you stared into his eyes, unable to look away. You knew he loved when you pushed his buttons, but this time, the way he looked at you made it clear that he wasn’t going to let you get away with it.

“Go put it on,” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

For a moment, you stood there, heart pounding, fighting the urge to comply immediately. But then, with a small smirk of your own, you crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow. “And what if I don’t?”

Jungwon’s hand slid down your arm, his touch light but charged with intent. “Then I’ll have to make you,” he said, his tone low and dangerous, full of promise.

You swallowed, feeling your resolve weaken under his intense gaze. There was something about the way he was looking at you tonight, so sure of himself, so commanding, that made it impossible to resist. Finally, you gave him a small, teasing smile and turned toward the bathroom.

“Fine,” you said over your shoulder, your voice laced with defiance. “But don’t expect me to make this easy for you.”

Jungwon’s dark laughter followed you as you walked away. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from my favorite little brat."

A few minutes later, you stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, adjusting the light pink lace lingerie he’d chosen for you. The fabric was soft against your skin, delicate and revealing in all the right places. The lace stockings hugged your legs perfectly, and the set itself made you feel both vulnerable and powerful at the same time.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the bathroom door and stepped into the bedroom, where Jungwon was waiting. His eyes locked onto you immediately, and the heat in his gaze made your knees feel weak.

“Come here,” he said, his voice rough with desire.

You hesitated for a second, just to push him a little further. “What if I don’t feel like it?”

Jungwon stood up from the edge of the bed, his movements slow and deliberate as he closed the distance between you. He stopped right in front of you, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in every inch of the lingerie he had chosen.

“Remember what I said earlier?” he whispered, his hand tilting your chin up so you were forced to meet his gaze. “It’s my birthday. That means I get exactly what I want.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the tension between you grow even thicker, the room charged with his dominance.

"And what is it that you want?" you asked, though you already knew the answer.

Jungwon’s lips curled into a slow, wicked smile, his hand trailing down to rest lightly on your waist. “You,” he whispered, his voice sending a thrill down your spine. “All of you. No more teasing.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers tightened their grip slightly, pulling you closer. The tension between you and Jungwon reached its peak as he stepped even closer, his body just inches from yours, radiating heat and intensity. His gaze traveled over your body, taking in the way the light pink lace clung to your curves, and his eyes darkened with desire. You could feel his restraint slipping, the air thick with anticipation.

Without warning, he grabbed your waist, his grip firm and unyielding. Before you could react, he spun you around and pushed you back onto the bed with a controlled but undeniable force. A gasp escaped your lips as your back hit the soft mattress, and you stared up at him, wide-eyed. Jungwon was rarely so rough with you, rarely so assertive in using his strength, but tonight, there was something different in his eyes—a hunger that told you he wasn’t going to hold back.

He leaned over you, his hands pressing into the mattress on either side of your head. “Tonight, you do as I say.”

Your breath hitched at his words, but you tried to play it off, keeping that bratty attitude you knew drove him wild. “What if I don’t want to?” you shot back, lifting your chin in defiance, though your heart was racing.

Jungwon’s eyes gleamed with amusement, but the smirk on his lips was full of dark promise. He didn’t say anything at first; instead, he leaned down and kissed you—hard. His lips crashed into yours, and his hand gripped the side of your neck, holding you in place as his tongue slid against yours, demanding control. You could feel the power in his kiss, the way he was claiming every bit of you, and it left you breathless.

When he finally pulled back, his gaze traveled down your body, slowly, as if he was savoring every inch of you. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with intensity. His fingers brushed over the lace of the lingerie, barely touching your skin, but the heat of his touch sent shivers through you. “You look perfect in this. Like you were made to be ruined.”

You felt your cheeks flush at his words, your body betraying you as a thrill shot through your core. But before you could respond, he reached over to the nightstand and grabbed something that made your eyes widen—the handcuffs.

“Heeseung’s present?” you managed to say, trying to sound sarcastic, though your voice wavered slightly.

Jungwon chuckled darkly, his eyes never leaving yours as he dangled the cuffs in front of you. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m going to make good use of these.”

You shifted on the bed, trying to maintain some semblance of control, but the way he looked at you had your heart pounding in your chest. “You can’t be serious—”

But before you could finish the sentence, Jungwon grabbed your wrist with one hand, pinning it above your head. His movements were swift and confident as he clicked the cuff around your wrist, securing it to the headboard.

“Shh,” he whispered, his face hovering just inches above yours, his tone both commanding and soothing.

You opened your mouth to protest, but he silenced you with another deep, possessive kiss, one that left you dizzy with want. When he pulled back, he grabbed your other wrist, locking it into the second cuff with a quick snap.

The cool metal felt strange against your skin, and you instinctively pulled against the restraints, testing them, but they didn’t budge. “Won, I don’t—”

“Quiet,” he ordered, his voice low and firm. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, sending chills down your spine. “Tonight, you’re going to be good for me. No more acting like a brat.”

You swallowed hard, but you couldn’t help yourself. “What if I don’t feel like being good?”

Jungwon’s eyes darkened at your defiance, and before you could say another word, he pressed his knee between your legs, applying just enough pressure to make you moan. The friction was sudden, intense, and it made you hiss involuntarily as heat flooded your core.

“You were saying?” he murmured, smirking down at you as you squirmed beneath him, the pressure of his knee sending waves of pleasure through you.

Your breath hitched, and you instinctively tried to move your hips, but the cuffs kept your arms pinned in place, and the control he had over you was undeniable. You could feel your defiance melting away, replaced by the building need inside you, but you didn’t want to give in so easily.

“I’m still not—” you started, trying to hold on to your attitude.

But Jungwon pressed his knee harder between your thighs, cutting you off with a sharp intake of breath. His hand slid down your body, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Don’t act like you don’t want this,” he whispered against your skin, his voice a mix of praise and command. “I know you love it when I take control. When I make you mine.” His lips trailed lower, his breath hot against your collarbone as his hand moved to your thigh, gripping it firmly. “You’ve been teasing me all day, but now it’s my turn.”

You couldn’t hold back the soft whimper that escaped your lips as his fingers dug into your thigh, the pressure between your legs becoming more intense. You were still trying to hold on to some semblance of control, but it was slipping through your fingers with every touch, every word that fell from his lips.

“You’re always such a brat,” he murmured, his voice soft but full of authority. “But not tonight. Tonight, you’re going to be a good girl for me. Aren’t you?”

You could barely think, your body reacting to him in ways that made it impossible to resist. “I—” you started, but the words got stuck in your throat as he shifted his knee slightly, sending another jolt of pleasure through you.

“Shh,” he whispered again, his lips brushing against yours, teasing but not quite kissing you. “I told you. No more talking. Just do as you’re told.”

Your breathing was ragged, your body aching for him, and despite the bratty defiance you usually clung to, you found yourself nodding, the need for release overwhelming your desire to fight.

“That’s better,” he murmured, his voice softening just enough to make your heart race even faster. His eyes locked onto yours, full of heat and dominance. “Now, let’s see how long you can keep being good.”

You bit your lip, trying to keep from giving him the satisfaction of hearing you whimper, but it was getting harder by the second. The way his knee pressed against you, the way his hands skimmed over your body but didn’t quite give you what you wanted—it was driving you insane.

“I’m not—” you started, but your voice faltered as he shifted his knee just enough to send another jolt of pleasure through you.

“Oh, you’re not?” Jungwon raised an eyebrow, smirking down at you. “That’s funny, because the way you’re squirming says otherwise.” His tone was playful, but you knew better.

He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re already so wet for me, aren’t you?”

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain some semblance of control, but the truth was, you were already on the edge. You could feel the heat pooling between your legs, your body aching for more of him, but you weren’t about to admit it. Not yet.

Jungwon, of course, wasn’t fooled. He smirked as he moved his hand lower, brushing his fingers lightly against your inner thigh, teasing you with just the barest touch. “I can feel how much you want it,” he whispered, his voice sending another wave of heat through your body. “But you’re not going to get it. Not yet.”

You let out a small, frustrated sound, tugging at the cuffs that held your wrists above your head. “Won, please…”

“Please, what?” he teased, his voice full of mock innocence. “What do you want, baby? You have to use your words.”

You bit your lip, refusing to give in that easily, but the pressure between your legs was becoming unbearable. The way he was teasing you—hovering so close but never quite touching you where you needed him to—was driving you insane. And he knew it. He could see it in the way your body reacted, the way you tried to grind against his knee, seeking more.

Jungwon clicked his tongue in disapproval, his hand grabbing your hip to still your movements. “Oh no,” he said softly, his voice full of that dangerous edge. “You don’t get to take what you want. Not tonight.” He leaned down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck. “Tonight, you only get what I give you.”

Your breath hitched at his words, the authority in his voice sending a thrill through your body. But at the same time, the frustration was building. You needed him, and he was deliberately keeping you on the edge, teasing you with just enough to drive you crazy but never enough to satisfy the ache that had built up inside you.

“Wonie,” you tried again, your voice softer now, a hint of desperation creeping in.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his smirk growing as he saw the frustration and need written all over your face. “What did I tell you earlier?” he asked, his voice soft but firm. “You’ll do as I say. If you want something, you have to beg for it.”

Your pride flared for a moment, but the way he was looking at you—so calm, so in control—was making it impossible to hold on to that defiance. Still, you weren’t ready to completely give in, even though your body was screaming for him.

“I don’t beg,” you muttered, trying to sound defiant despite the trembling in your voice.

Jungwon’s smirk deepened. “Is that so?”

Without warning, his hand slid between your legs, cupping you over the thin lace of the lingerie. The sudden pressure made you gasp, your hips instinctively bucking toward him, but just as quickly, he pulled his hand away, leaving you whimpering in frustration.

“I think you will,” he murmured, his voice full of dark promise. “It’s just a matter of time.”

You tugged at the handcuffs again, the metal digging slightly into your wrists, but it was nothing compared to the ache building inside you. “Won, please…” you tried again, your voice shakier now.

“Please what?” he repeated, clearly enjoying every second of this. “You have to tell me exactly what you want, baby.”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to give in entirely, even though you could feel yourself unraveling under his touch. “I… I want you to touch me.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your half-hearted plea. “That’s not good enough,” he said, his tone firm. “I want to hear you beg for it. Or you’re not getting anything.”

Your pride battled with the overwhelming need coursing through your body. You hated how much you wanted him, how desperate you were for his touch, but at this point, the frustration was too much to bear. “Jungwon, please,” you whispered, finally giving in. “I need you.”

His smirk widened, clearly satisfied with your admission. “That’s more like it,” he said, his hand brushing lightly over your thigh again, teasing. “But I’m not sure you deserve it yet. You’ve been such a brat all night.”

You let out a small whimper, your body trembling with need as his fingers traced maddeningly slow patterns on your skin. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, the desperation in your voice unmistakable now.

“Sorry for what?” he asked, his voice full of mock curiosity.

“For being a brat,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungwon’s eyes sparkled with amusement and satisfaction as he leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “But you still need to learn your lesson.”

Before you could process his words, his knee pressed between your legs again, harder this time, making you gasp as the pressure sent a wave of pleasure through you. He shifted his weight slightly, intensifying the friction, and you couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped your lips. He could already feel a wet patch forming on his jeans, but he didn't care.

Jungwon chuckled softly, his hand sliding down your body once again, this time slipping beneath the lace to touch your bare pussy directly. The sudden contact made you gasp, your body jolting with pleasure, but just as quickly, he pulled away again, leaving you on the edge.

“Not yet,” he whispered, his voice full of wicked promise. “You’re going to have to beg a little harder than that.”

You let out a frustrated whimper, your body trembling with need. “Please, Jungwon… I’ll do anything.”

He smiled, clearly pleased with your surrender. “That’s what I wanted to hear,” he said, his hand finally moving to give you what you so desperately needed.

Your breath hitched, and you arched your back slightly, trying to gain even the smallest bit of friction. But he had you pinned, his hands resting just inches away from where you needed them most. The lace lingerie clung to your skin, damp with your arousal, and you could see the way his eyes darkened as he noticed just how wet you were.

“You’re soaking,” he said softly, his voice filled with mock disappointment as his fingers brushed lightly over the fabric between your legs. The touch was barely there, just enough to make you gasp but nowhere near enough to give you relief. “All of this just from me teasing you? You really are pathetic, aren’t you?”

You whimpered, tugging at the cuffs again, wishing more than anything that you could touch him, pull him closer, make him stop torturing you like this. “Jungwon, please…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He leaned down, his lips grazing your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Please, what? You’re already falling apart, and I’ve barely done a thing.” His hand moved lower, pressing lightly against the wet patch of your lingerie, sending a shockwave of pleasure through you.

You let out a soft cry, your body jerking at the contact. “Please, I need—” you started, but the words caught in your throat as his fingers slipped under the fabric, brushing against your slick folds.

Jungwon tsked softly, shaking his head as he felt just how wet you were. “Look at this,” he murmured, his voice thick with a mix of amusement and desire. “You’re already dripping for me, and I haven’t even fucked you yet.” His fingers teased you, slipping through your folds but not quite giving you the satisfaction you were begging for.

You whimpered again, pulling at the handcuffs as your hips bucked involuntarily toward his hand. “Please, Jungwon… I can’t…”

He chuckled softly, his breath brushing against your neck as his fingers continued their torturous teasing, skimming just barely over your clit. “You can’t what?” he asked, his voice full of dark amusement. “You can’t wait? You’re so needy, you can’t even handle a little teasing?”

Tears of frustration welled up in your eyes, your body trembling from the overwhelming need coursing through you. “Please… just touch me,” you begged, your voice breaking with desperation.

Jungwon’s eyes softened slightly, but the smirk on his lips never faded. “You’re already crying?” he asked, his tone laced with mock sympathy. “I haven’t even made you come yet, and you’re falling apart this easily?”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back a sob as the tears spilled over, your body aching for release. “I need you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “Please, Jungwon… I can’t take it anymore.”

For a moment, he just stared down at you, his eyes filled with something darker, something deeper. His hand, which had been teasing you relentlessly, finally stilled, and he leaned down, his lips brushing against your tear-streaked cheek. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, his voice soft now, almost reverent. “So desperate, so needy. I love seeing you like this.”

His words sent a shiver through you, and you let out a soft sob, your body trembling beneath him. “Please…”

Jungwon seemed to finally take pity on you, because without another word, his fingers slid lower, pressing firmly against your clit. The sudden rush of pleasure made you cry out, your body jerking against the cuffs as you arched into his hand.

“There it is,” he murmured, his voice low and full of satisfaction as he started to move his fingers in slow, deliberate circles. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

You nodded frantically, unable to form coherent words as the pleasure surged through you. His touch was perfect, just the right amount of pressure, sending shockwaves through your entire body. “Yes,” you gasped, your breath coming in ragged, desperate pants. “Yes, please—more…”

Jungwon chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the way you were falling apart beneath him. “More?” he asked, his tone teasing. “After all that teasing, now you want more?”

You whimpered, nodding again, your body moving against his hand as you chased the release you were so desperate for. “Please, I’m begging you…”

He smirked, clearly satisfied with your surrender. “That’s better,” he murmured, his fingers quickening their pace as he pressed down harder on your clit, drawing a sharp moan from your lips. “You look so pretty when you beg for me.”

You were already a mess, tears streaming down your face as the pleasure built inside you, threatening to consume you entirely. “Jungwon, I’m—” you gasped, your body trembling uncontrollably as you teetered on the edge of release.

“You’re going to come for me, aren’t you?” he whispered, his voice full of command now. “Go ahead. Be a good girl and cum.”

His words were all it took to send you over the edge. Your body arched off the bed as a loud, broken sob escaped your lips, the waves of pleasure crashing through you so intensely that it left you gasping for air. Jungwon’s fingers never stopped, prolonging your orgasm as you writhed beneath him, your body completely at his mercy.

“There you go,” he whispered, his voice soft but full of satisfaction. “Such a good girl, coming so hard for me.”

Jungwon’s breathing was still steady and calm as he looked down at you, his fingers brushing lightly over your tear-streaked cheek. You were still trying to catch your breath, body trembling from the intensity of your release, but you noticed the way his eyes darkened again, the hunger still lingering in them.

Without a word, he reached for the handcuff keys on the nightstand, his movements deliberate and controlled. The cool metal clicked as he unlocked the cuffs from the headboard, freeing your wrists. For a brief moment, you felt relief as your arms fell back to your sides, but Jungwon wasn’t done. His hands were quick as he grabbed both of your wrists and cuffed them together in front of you this time, locking them with a decisive snap.

Your breath hitched again, your body still sensitive and buzzing from everything that had happened, but the way he looked at you now—with a mix of control and desire—told you that this was far from over.

He leaned down, his lips grazing your ear as he spoke, his voice dripping with command. “Get on your knees, baby.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned by the sudden shift, but the heat of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. You hesitated for just a second, your body still aching from the pleasure he’d just given you, but his fingers tightened around your cuffed wrists, pulling you up to a kneeling position on the bed.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck now. “You know what to do.”

Your heart raced as you looked up at him, eyes wide, knowing exactly what he wanted. Jungwon stood there, towering over you with that same infuriating, confident smirk on his face, his fingers gently tugging at your wrists, guiding you off the bed. You slid down onto your knees, the soft carpet beneath you cool against your skin.

Jungwon’s eyes never left yours as he slowly unbuckled his belt, the sound of the leather sliding through the loops filling the room. He undid his pants with maddening precision, pushing them down just enough to free himself. His cock was already hard, the tip glistening, and your breath caught in your throat as you looked up at him through your lashes.

He reached down, his fingers tilting your chin up, forcing you to look into his eyes. “You’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice a dangerous mix of sweet and commanding.

You nodded, the anticipation coursing through you, your wrists still cuffed in front of you. The restriction only heightened the intensity of the moment, making you feel even more at his mercy.

“Come on, use that sweet mouth of yours,” he ordered, his voice dropping lower, rougher.

You swallowed hard, leaning in as you took him in your hand, the cuffs making it awkward, but you managed. His cock was heavy and warm in your grip, and you licked your lips before flicking your tongue over the tip, tasting the saltiness of him.

Jungwon let out a low groan, his hand tangling in your hair as you began to take him deeper, your lips wrapping around him. “That’s it,” he muttered, his voice rough with pleasure. “Such a good girl… but you can do better than that.”

His words made your heart race, and you tried to push yourself further, taking him deeper into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his length as you worked him. You looked up at him through your lashes, seeing the way his head tilted back slightly, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his grip tightening in your hair as he guided your movements. “That mouth of yours… always so perfect.”

The vulgar praise made your core tighten again, even though you were still recovering from your own release. You hollowed your cheeks, trying to take him deeper, gagging slightly as you did. The cuffs made it difficult to move freely, but Jungwon didn’t seem to care. In fact, the way you struggled only seemed to spur him on.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he looked down at you. “On your knees for me, so fucking desperate to please me.” His hand tugged harder on your hair, pulling your head back just enough to force you to look up at him again. “Such a dirty little slut, aren’t you?”

You whimpered around him, the sound muffled as your lips stretched around his length. His words sent a flush of heat through your entire body, and you could feel yourself getting wet all over again, despite how much he’d already worked you over.

Jungwon’s eyes burned with lust as he continued to guide you, the muscles in his thighs flexing as you worked your mouth over him. “Fucking look at you,” he groaned, his voice growing rougher. “You look so fucking pretty like this, with your mouth full of me.”

You moaned around him, the vibrations making him curse under his breath. His hand tightened in your hair again, and you felt the way his body tensed, his control slipping slightly as his pleasure built.

“You love this, don’t you?” he growled, his hips pushing forward slightly, making you take him deeper. “Love being on your knees, sucking my cock like a good little slut.”

Your eyes watered as you tried to take him even deeper, his words sending shockwaves through your body. You could feel the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was the way he tasted, the way he filled your mouth, the way he groaned your name between curses.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his breathing ragged now. “You’re so fucking good at this.”

You looked up at him, your eyes pleading for his approval, your wrists still bound in front of you as you did everything you could to please him. The desperation in your gaze only made him curse again, his hand gripping your hair tighter as his hips bucked forward.

“Such a good girl,” he muttered, his voice shaky now as he got closer. “Always so fucking good for me.”

The praise mixed with the degradation made your mind spin, and you could feel your own body trembling with need all over again, despite the ache in your jaw and the way your throat was already sore from taking him so deep.

Jungwon’s breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling quickly as he guided your movements faster, his control slipping. “Fuck,” he groaned, his voice strained. “You’re going to make me cum.”

You moaned in response, hollowing your cheeks and sucking harder, determined to make him unravel.

His head tilted back, a low growl escaping his throat as he let go of the last bit of control he had. “Fuck, baby,” he hissed, his hand pulling your hair tight as his hips bucked forward one last time. “I’m going to—”

With a final groan, Jungwon came hard, spilling into your mouth as his body tensed above you. You swallowed quickly, the taste of him filling your mouth as you kept sucking, wanting to draw every last bit of pleasure from him. His breathing was ragged, and his grip on your hair loosened as he finally relaxed, his chest heaving.

He looked down at you, his eyes dark and filled with satisfaction as he watched you swallow. “Good girl,” he whispered, his voice soft but full of praise. “Such a good fucking girl.”

You looked up at him, your chest rising and falling with the effort it had taken, your lips swollen and wet from the effort, and he thought it might be his favorite version of you. All dolled up, your mascara smeared on your cheeks, lips swollen and chin soaked with a mixture of spit and his cum that leaked from your mouth. He pulled you up, his hands surprisingly gentle.

He gently pressed you down onto the mattress, his movements purposeful but filled with intensity. The cuffs were still locked around your wrists, and he used them to pull your hands above your head, pinning them there with one hand. The metal bit into your skin, and your heart raced at the delicious sense of helplessness as he hovered above you, his presence all-consuming.

His lips crashed against yours, hungry and demanding, and you moaned into the kiss, overwhelmed by the heat of his body pressed against yours. His free hand slid up your side, tracing the delicate lace of the lingerie that still clung to your skin. He hadn’t bothered to remove it—it was clear that he loved the way you looked in it, your body exposed and vulnerable under the soft fabric.

“You look so fucking good like this,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and filled with want. His hand tightened around your wrists, holding you firmly in place as his body pressed down into yours. “All mine.”

You whimpered, your body arching beneath him, desperate for more contact. “Jungwon…”

He pulled back just enough to smirk down at you, his eyes blazing with hunger. “Shh, baby.” His voice was low and commanding, sending a shiver down your spine.

Before you could respond, his lips found your neck, and he began kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there, his mouth moving with purpose. His kisses were rough, full of need, as he made his way down your collarbone, leaving a trail of heat in his wake.

Your body trembled beneath him as his hand moved from your side to your throat, squeezing just enough to send a wave of heat straight through your core. He didn’t stop kissing you, his lips grazing your collarbone, nipping and sucking at the skin there with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“Jungwon…” you moaned again, your voice weak as your body ached for him, every nerve alight with need.

He chuckled softly, his mouth hovering just above your skin as he spoke. “You sound so desperate. You love this, don’t you?” His grip around your throat tightened just a little, the pressure sending another wave of heat through you. “Being under me like this… unable to do anything but take what I give you.”

You bit your lip, trying to contain the moan that threatened to escape, but it was impossible. His words, his touch, everything about the way he dominated you in this moment made your mind spin.

His lips returned to your skin, this time moving lower, kissing and sucking at the tops of your breasts, where the lace of the lingerie barely covered you. He didn’t bother pulling it down or removing it; instead, he pressed his mouth against the lace itself, his tongue slipping over the fabric and the skin underneath, teasing you, driving you insane with the friction.

“So fucking beautiful,” he muttered against your chest, his hand still holding your wrists firmly above your head while his other hand remained wrapped around your throat, keeping you in place.

His lips latched onto the soft skin just above your breasts, sucking hard until you knew there would be a mark—a mark that would stay, a reminder of how thoroughly he was claiming you tonight. You gasped, your body arching beneath him as he left another mark, this one even lower, the heat of his mouth making you tremble.

He pulled back slightly, admiring the deep red hickeys that were already forming on your chest and collarbone, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Look at these,” he said softly, his voice filled with pride. “You look so fucking good covered in my marks.”

You whimpered, your wrists straining against the cuffs as you tried to pull him closer. “Please, Jungwon… I need you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desperation.

He smirked, clearly enjoying the sight of you so desperate for him. His hand slid down your body, tracing the delicate lace that barely covered your breasts, his fingers grazing the soft fabric but never pulling it away. “You need me, huh?” he teased, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “You’ve been such a brat all night, and now you think you deserve it?”

You bit your lip, your body trembling as you felt him press harder against you, his cock teasing your entrance through the lace. “Please,” you whimpered, your voice breaking with need.

Jungwon chuckled again, his hand sliding down to your thigh, gripping it hard as he positioned himself between your legs. “Such a good girl when you’re begging,” he muttered, his tone shifting to something darker, more possessive. “You want me to fuck you that bad?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your voice barely a whisper. “Please, Jungwon… I need you.”

His eyes darkened at your words, and without another warning, he grabbed the lace of your lingerie, pushing it aside just enough to expose your soaking core. He didn’t bother undressing you completely—he loved the way the lingerie clung to your body, the way it framed you perfectly for him. He slid his cock through your wet folds, teasing you with the pressure, but not giving you what you wanted just yet.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he growled, his voice full of a mix of praise and degradation. “All this for me? Just from a little teasing?”

You whimpered, your hips bucking toward him, but he held you firmly in place, refusing to give in just yet. “Jungwon, please…” you begged, your voice shaking with desperation. “I can’t take it anymore…”

He chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying the way you were falling apart beneath him. “Can’t take it, huh?” he muttered, his hand gripping your thigh tighter. “You’ve been acting like a brat all night, teasing me, and now you think you get to decide when you come?”

Without giving you a chance to respond, Jungwon positioned himself at your entrance, his grip on your thigh tightening. “Here’s what’s going to happen, baby,” he growled, his voice rough and commanding. “I’m going to fuck you, and you’re going to take every fucking inch. But you’re not coming until I say so.”

Before you could protest, he thrust into you roughly, the sudden stretch making you gasp as he filled you completely. He didn’t give you time to adjust, his hips moving with brutal intensity as he set a relentless pace, his cock slamming into you with each thrust.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure as he drove into you. “You’re so fucking tight… so perfect around my cock.”

You cried out, your body arching beneath him as the intensity of his thrusts sent shockwaves of pleasure through you. The pressure was overwhelming, and the sound of his skin slapping against yours mixed with his rough, filthy words made your mind spin.

“You love this, don’t you?” he growled, his hand wrapping around your throat as he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. “Love being fucked like this… like a good little slut.”

You whimpered, your body trembling beneath him as you tried to move your wrists, but the cuffs held you firmly in place. “Yes,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Fuck, yes…”

He smirked, clearly satisfied with your response. “That’s right,” he muttered, his grip on your throat tightening slightly as he thrust into you harder, deeper. “You’re mine. All fucking mine.”

The intensity of his movements, combined with the way his hand squeezed your throat, had you teetering on the edge of release, your body trembling with the need for more. But Jungwon wasn’t going to let you have it that easily.

“Don’t you fucking dare come yet,” he growled, his voice rough and filled with command. “You don’t get to come until I say so.”

You whimpered in frustration, your body writhing beneath him as the pleasure built inside you, threatening to consume you completely. “Jungwon, please… I can’t…”

The pleasure hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you before you could even think, your body convulsing as the overwhelming release tore through you. The world seemed to blur for a moment as your vision went white, your breath hitching as you came hard, unable to control it. You were so lost in the intense feeling that for a brief, dangerous second, you forgot.

You forgot that Jungwon hadn’t given you permission.

As the pleasure began to subside, you blinked through the haze, your chest heaving as you realized what had just happened. The sharp satisfaction of release quickly gave way to a sinking feeling in your stomach as you caught sight of Jungwon’s face.

His dark eyes, which had been full of lust and satisfaction, now burned with something else entirely—anger. His jaw was clenched tight, his hand still gripping your waist, his fingers digging into your skin almost painfully. His chest rose and fell heavily, and for a moment, he said nothing, the air between you heavy with tension.

Then, slowly, his lips curled into a dangerous smirk, but there was no amusement in it this time. “Did you just come without my permission?” he asked, his voice low.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you immediately felt your body tense under his gaze. “Won, I'm sorry… I-I didn’t mean to…” you stammered, trying to explain, but you could already see the disappointment and fury in his eyes.

“You didn’t mean to?” he repeated, his voice still eerily calm as he straightened up, pulling himself out of you. He released your waist and moved back slightly, giving you space, though his eyes never left you. “You know better than that, baby. You know *exactly* what you’re supposed to do.”

You whimpered, already feeling the weight of what you had done sinking in. “I’m sorry…” you whispered, your voice trembling with guilt and fear. “I couldn’t help it…”

Jungwon scoffed, the sound full of disbelief as he shook his head. “Couldn’t help it?” he muttered, his tone hardening. “That’s not good enough.”

Before you could say anything more, he reached up and unlocked the cuffs that had held your wrists above your head. Your hands fell to your sides, but the relief was short-lived. Jungwon didn’t waste any time. He flipped you over onto your stomach, his hands rough but purposeful as he forced your face down into the pillow.

“Stay still,” he growled, his voice dark with frustration.

You felt his weight shift as he straddled your legs, his hand gripping your hip as he yanked your wrists behind your back, locking the cuffs around them once again. The cold metal bit into your skin, and you knew immediately that this time was different—there was no tenderness in his touch now. This was punishment.

“You were doing so well,” he muttered, his voice low and angry as he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “And now you’ve gone and ruined it.”

You whimpered against the pillow, your body trembling beneath him, both from the fear of what was coming and the lingering effects of your release. “I’m sorry…” you whispered again, your voice muffled by the pillow. “I didn’t mean—”

“Shut up,” he snapped, cutting you off. His hand came down hard on your ass, the sudden, sharp sting making you cry out into the pillow. “You don’t get to make excuses.”

Your body jolted at the force of the slap, the pain radiating through you, but you knew better than to fight it. This was your punishment, and you had to take it.

“You knew the rules,” Jungwon growled, his hand coming down again with another sharp slap, harder this time. “And you broke them.”

You gasped, the sound half a whimper as his hand connected with your skin again, the harsh sting making you bite your lip to keep from crying out too loudly. His palm was unrelenting, each strike harder than the last as he delivered the punishment with brutal precision.

Slap. “You don’t come without my permission.”

Slap. “You knew that.”

Slap. “And you fucking disobeyed.”

Each word was punctuated by a harsh smack of his hand against your ass, the pain sharp and intense, sending shockwaves through your body. Tears pricked at your eyes, and you buried your face deeper into the pillow, trying to muffle the sounds of your whimpers and moans.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, your voice barely more than a whisper as the tears began to fall.

Jungwon didn’t slow down. His hand came down again, his fingers digging into your skin as he spoke through gritted teeth. “Sorry isn’t good enough,” he growled. “I told you to wait, and you fucking ignored me.”

Slap.

The pain was overwhelming now, your body trembling beneath him as you fought to keep yourself still, even though every instinct told you to move, to escape the stinging punishment. But you didn’t dare disobey further.

Jungwon paused for a moment, his hand hovering over your reddened skin as he caught his breath, his chest rising and falling heavily. “Look at you,” he muttered, his voice quieter now, though still filled with frustration. “Already crying. You were so fucking good earlier… What happened?”

You whimpered, your voice shaking as you tried to explain, though you knew nothing you said would fix this. “I-I don’t know… I just… I couldn’t stop.”

Jungwon’s hand came down again, hard enough to make you yelp into the pillow. “Couldn’t stop?” he repeated, his voice mocking now. “No. You didn’t want to stop.”

You sobbed, your face pressed hard into the pillow as the tears flowed freely. “I’m sorry…”

“You’ll be sorry, alright,” Jungwon growled, his voice full of dark promise as his hand came down one final time, the slap echoing through the room, leaving a burning sensation in its wake.

You gasped, your body trembling beneath him as the pain radiated through you, but you didn’t dare move. You stayed perfectly still, your wrists bound behind your back, your face pressed into the pillow as you waited, your heart pounding in your chest.

Jungwon’s breathing was heavy above you, but his hand finally stilled, the sharp sting of the punishment fading into a dull, throbbing ache. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths and the tension hanging in the air between you.

Then, slowly, Jungwon leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke, his voice low and rough. “You’re lucky I don’t leave you like this for the rest of the night,” he muttered, his tone dark and full of warning. “But you’re going to make this up to me, aren’t you?”

You nodded frantically, your body trembling beneath him as you whispered, “Yes… I’ll do anything, Wonie. Please…”

His hands slid down your back, his touch rough as he adjusted your position. He grabbed the chain of the cuffs, tugging it hard to pull you up slightly, making you arch your back and push your hips toward him.

You whimpered into the pillow, unable to find words as your body trembled under him. The soreness from the punishment was still fresh, but the way he had positioned you—face down, ass in the air—made you feel exposed, vulnerable, and desperately aching for him all over again.

Jungwon’s grip on the handcuffs tightened, and he yanked you back even harder, using the chain as leverage to keep you in place. “You look so fucking good like this,” he growled, his tone full of hunger as he stared down at your ass, the marks of his hand still fresh and red against your skin. “Completely fucking ruined… all for me.”

You moaned softly, the sound muffled by the pillow, as he pressed his hips against you, his cock sliding between your folds, one again. The sensation sent a shiver through you, and you could feel just how wet you still were—how much your body craved him despite everything.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he muttered, his voice dripping with amusement as he teased your entrance. “Even after I punished you, you’re still soaking. You’re such a dirty little slut, aren’t you?”

You could only whimper in response, your body arching toward him, desperate for more. But he wasn’t going to give it to you just yet—not without reminding you of how much control he had.

“Tell me what you are,” he growled, his hand gripping the chain of the cuffs tighter, his tone demanding.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing enough to speak. “I-I’m your slut,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you gave him exactly what he wanted.

“Damn right you are,” Jungwon growled, and without warning, he thrust into you roughly, the sudden stretch making you gasp as he filled you completely. There was no gentleness in the way he took you—his hips slammed into yours with a force that made your whole body jolt forward, but the cuffs held you in place, his grip keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure as he set a brutal pace, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. “You’re so fucking tight.”

You couldn’t even respond, your voice caught in your throat as the overwhelming sensation of him pounding into you took over. The way he held your wrists behind your back, using the cuffs as leverage to pull you onto his cock, made it impossible for you to move or resist. You were completely at his mercy, your body trembling with the intensity of it all.

“Fuck, baby,” he hissed, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he kept up the relentless pace. “You feel so fucking good.”

His words were a blur, mixing with the sound of his hips slamming into yours, the wet, obscene noises filling the room. He was rough, unrelenting, his cock driving into you so hard that you couldn’t think straight—couldn’t focus on anything but the overwhelming sensation of him filling you over and over again.

“Look at you,” Jungwon muttered, his voice full of both praise and degradation as he leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back. “Taking my cock so well… such a good little slut.”

You whimpered, the pressure inside you building with each brutal thrust, your body teetering on the edge of something that felt different—something more intense than anything you’d ever felt before.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his grip on the cuffs tightening as he pulled you back onto him harder, his cock slamming into you with a force that made your vision blur. “You love this, don’t you? Being fucked like this… like you’re nothing but my toy.”

You moaned into the pillow, your body shaking with the intensity of it all. You couldn’t speak—you could barely breathe—but the way your body responded to him was answer enough.

Jungwon chuckled darkly, his voice full of satisfaction as he felt you trembling beneath him. “You’re so fucking good for me,” he muttered, his tone shifting to something more possessive, more commanding. “You’re going to come for me again, aren’t you?”

You whimpered, the pressure building inside you becoming unbearable as his cock continued to slam into you. You were so close, your entire body on the edge of something intense, something overwhelming, but you didn’t know if you could hold on.

“Fuck,” Jungwon growled, his hand sliding up your back, his fingers digging into your skin as he thrust into you harder. “Come for me, baby. Come on my fucking cock.”

The command was all it took. The pressure inside you exploded, and before you knew it, your body convulsed as a wave of pleasure unlike anything you’d ever felt before crashed over you. You cried out, your voice a broken sob into the pillow as your body shook violently, your release pouring out of you in a way that made you feel like you were losing control completely.

“Oh, fuck,” Jungwon groaned, his tone shifting to something almost triumphant as he realized what had happened. “Did you just fucking squirt for me?”

Your body trembled beneath him, the intensity of your release leaving you breathless, unable to form words. You could feel the wetness pooling beneath you, a slick mess that covered the bed, and the sheer intensity of it made your mind spin.

Jungwon chuckled darkly, his hips slowing for just a second as he processed what had just happened. “That’s fucking right,” he muttered, his voice thick with smug satisfaction. “You’re such a good fucking girl… You squirted all over me. Fuck, you’re perfect.”

You whimpered, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your release, but Jungwon wasn’t done. His grip on the cuffs tightened again, and he started thrusting into you once more, this time with a renewed intensity, clearly spurred on by your reaction.

“Fuck, you’re so good for me,” he growled, his voice rough and full of lust as he pounded into you again, the slickness from your release making each thrust even more intense. “I’m going to make you come again. You’re going to fucking scream for me.”

You couldn’t speak—you couldn’t even think. All you could do was take what he was giving you, your body trembling beneath him as the pleasure continued to build, despite the overwhelming release you’d just had.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” Jungwon muttered, his hips slamming into yours with brutal force as he chased his own release. “You take my cock so fucking well… like you were made for me.”

You whimpered, your body barely able to handle the intensity of it all, but the way he talked to you—the way he praised and degraded you in the same breath—made your head spin with need all over again.

“Come for me again, baby,” he growled, his voice full of command as he drove into you with everything he had. “I want to feel you come on my cock again.”

You could barely breathe, let alone respond, but your body had already started trembling again, the pleasure building inside you faster than you thought possible.

Jungwon’s grip on the cuffs tightened one last time, and he groaned, his voice rough and low as he lost control. “Fuck, baby… I’m going to cum.”

And with a final, brutal thrust, he came hard, his body tensing above you as he buried himself deep inside you. The feeling of him filling you, combined with the sheer intensity of everything that had happened, sent you over the edge again, your body convulsing with another powerful release.

You gasped, your body shaking beneath him as the pleasure overwhelmed you once more, and this time, you couldn’t stop the loud, broken sob that escaped your lips.

Jungwon groaned again, his chest pressed against your back as he rode out the final waves of his orgasm, his grip on the cuffs loosening as he finally collapsed on top of you, both of you spent, breathless, and trembling.

For a moment, there was only the sound of your ragged breathing, the two of you tangled together in the aftermath of the most intense experience you’d ever had. Jungwon’s hands finally released the cuffs, his touch surprisingly gentle now as he pressed a soft kiss to the back of your neck.

“You were so fucking good,” he whispered, his voice soft and full of affection now, a stark contrast to the roughness of earlier. “You’re perfect, baby.”

fter a moment, Jungwon shifted, gently pulling out of you. His body was still pressed close, his weight comforting against your back. You whimpered softly as he moved, the sensitivity between your legs making every little movement feel amplified. But then he sighed, softly, his lips brushing against the back of your neck as he murmured, “You okay, baby?”

You nodded weakly, though you could barely form words, your mind still hazy from the intensity of everything. “Y-Yeah,” you whispered, your voice hoarse.

Jungwon smiled softly against your skin, his lips pressing gentle kisses along your shoulder. “You were so good for me,” he murmured, his voice full of tenderness now, a stark contrast to the rough dominance he had displayed earlier. “So fucking perfect.”

As he kissed your skin, the cool metal of the handcuffs around your wrists reminded you that you were still restrained. You tugged slightly, a quiet reminder, and Jungwon immediately stiffened, realizing he’d almost forgotten.

“Shit,” he muttered, pulling back just enough to grab the key. “I’m sorry, baby. I almost forgot.” His hands were quick but gentle as he unlocked the cuffs, freeing your wrists from the restraints.

You winced slightly as the cuffs came off, the skin around your wrists red and irritated from the constant pressure. Jungwon noticed immediately, his brow furrowing with concern. “Baby, look at your wrists,” he murmured, softly running his fingers over the irritated marks. “Did I hurt you?”

ou shook your head quickly, though the soreness was undeniable. “It’s okay,” you whispered, your voice still shaky. “I didn’t mind… it was just… a lot.”

Jungwon’s expression softened, but there was still a trace of guilt in his eyes. “I pushed you hard tonight,” he admitted, leaning down to kiss the inside of your wrist, right over the irritated skin. “But you were amazing. I couldn’t stop.”

You smiled weakly, touched by the affection in his voice, even though your body was still aching. “I wanted to be good for you,” you whispered, your voice filled with warmth despite the soreness.

Jungwon’s eyes softened even further as he cupped your face, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “You were more than good,” he murmured, his lips brushing your skin gently. “You were perfect. It was the best birthday ever.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and despite the exhaustion settling into your bones, you smiled softly up at him. “I’m glad,” you whispered.

But Jungwon wasn’t done taking care of you. He pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning your wrists again, clearly worried about the marks. “Wait here, baby,” he said softly, his voice full of concern. “I’ll be right back.”

You watched as he got up, his steps a little slower now, the intensity of the night catching up with him as well. He disappeared into the bathroom, and you lay back on the bed, your body still trembling slightly from everything that had happened. The cool air against your skin made you shiver, and you glanced down at the ruined lingerie you still wore. The delicate lace was damp and torn in places, the aftermath of Jungwon’s rough hands and the intensity of the night.

You smiled to yourself, thinking about how Jungwon had loved seeing you in it, how he hadn’t bothered to take it off completely, even as he ravaged you. The thought made your heart race again, despite the exhaustion.

A moment later, Jungwon returned, a small tube of cream in his hand and a soft, damp cloth draped over his arm. His expression was gentle now, full of concern and tenderness as he knelt beside you on the bed. “Let me take care of you,” he said softly, his voice warm and soothing.

You nodded, too tired to do much else, and watched as he carefully took your wrists in his hands, dabbing the cloth gently over the irritated skin. The cool water soothed the soreness, and you let out a soft sigh of relief as Jungwon tended to you with the utmost care.

“I’m sorry if I was too rough,” he whispered, his brow furrowing slightly as he focused on rubbing the cream into your wrists. “I got carried away.”

You shook your head softly, smiling at the concern in his voice. “I liked it,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

The soft, oversized shirt Jungwon had slipped over you felt comforting, but you couldn’t help but notice how damp the bed beneath you was. Your cheeks flushed as the reality of what had happened sank in.

Jungwon shifted slightly beside you, his arms still wrapped around you protectively, but you could feel the smug satisfaction radiating off of him. His fingers traced lazy circles on your back, and even though he was quiet for a moment, you could tell by the way he kept glancing down at you that he was waiting for you to say something about it.

You cleared your throat softly, trying to shake off the lingering embarrassment as you turned your head to look up at him. “Jungwon…” you started, your voice soft. “I… um…”

He smirked before you could finish your thought, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “I know,” he murmured, clearly enjoying your hesitation. “You squirted, baby.”

You felt your face heat up, and you buried your face in his chest, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. “I’ve never… I didn’t think I could…”

Jungwon chuckled, his chest vibrating with laughter as he held you close. “Yeah, I noticed,” he teased, his voice low and full of smug satisfaction. “It’s the first time, isn’t it?”

You nodded shyly against him, still too flustered to fully acknowledge what had happened. You had never squirted before, and the intensity of it all had left you in a daze. You’d never even been close to doing it before tonight, and now the evidence of what had happened was all over the bed.

Jungwon’s smirk widened as he tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. “I told you I’d make you come so hard you wouldn’t be able to handle it,” he said, his voice full of pride. “And look at you—you fucking squirted for me.”

Your cheeks flushed even deeper at the way he said it, so casually and yet so smug. He loved it, you could tell. It had boosted his ego, knowing that he had pushed you to that point.

“I can’t believe I did that,” you muttered, shaking your head slightly, still a little embarrassed despite how much you’d enjoyed it.

Jungwon’s eyes softened just a bit, but the teasing glint remained. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead and chuckled. “Why not? You were amazing, baby. I’ve never seen you like that.” He pulled back slightly, glancing down at the sheets. “I guess I’ll have to change the bed, though.”

You groaned softly, feeling the embarrassment creep up again as you remembered just how wet the sheets had become. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, burying your face in your hands.

Jungwon laughed and gently pulled your hands away from your face, kissing your knuckles softly. “Why are you apologizing? I’m the one who made you do it. If anything, you should be thanking me.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips despite your embarrassment. “Really? You’re going to take full credit for it?”

Jungwon smirked, his eyes gleaming with pride. “Hell yeah, I am. Do you know how hot it was? Seeing you come like that, completely losing control… It was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head at his smugness. “You’re impossible.”

He grinned, clearly enjoying your reaction as he pressed another kiss to your forehead. “And you’re perfect. Now, let me clean this up before we have to sleep on a puddle.”

With that, he carefully slipped out of bed, giving you a playful wink as he stood up. You watched as he stretched, clearly satisfied with himself, before he grabbed the edge of the soaked sheets and began stripping them off the bed.

The cool air hit your skin as the damp sheets were pulled away, and you shivered slightly, watching as Jungwon made quick work of changing the bed. He pulled off the top layer of the bedding, revealing the mattress underneath, and shook his head, smirking to himself as he saw the wet spot.

“Damn,” he muttered, mostly to himself, but loud enough for you to hear. “I really did a number on you, didn’t I?”

You groaned, hiding your face in the pillow as the embarrassment returned in full force. “Jungwon, stop.”

But he wasn’t letting it go. He glanced over his shoulder, grinning at you as he tossed the wet sheets aside. “What? You’re the one who squirted all over the place. I’m just cleaning up the mess.”

You laughed, despite yourself, and peeked out from behind the pillow to watch him. His smugness was almost endearing now, and the way he moved around the room, completely unfazed by what had happened, made you feel a little less self-conscious about it.

As he grabbed fresh sheets and began remaking the bed, he kept glancing over at you, that playful grin still tugging at his lips. “You know,” he said as he tucked the corners of the sheets into place, “I’m definitely going to be thinking about this for a while.”

You raised an eyebrow, sitting up slightly as you watched him. “Oh, really? And what exactly are you going to be thinking about?”

Jungwon paused for a moment, his eyes locking onto yours as he smirked. “How fucking hot it was, seeing you lose control like that,” he said, his voice low and filled with pride. “How you squirted all over the bed because I fucked you so good.”

Your face heated up again, but this time you couldn’t help but smile at his words. There was something about the way he said it—so smug, but also full of admiration—that made you feel a little proud of yourself, too.

“You’re going to be impossible now, aren’t you?” you teased, leaning back against the headboard as he finished making the bed.

Jungwon grinned, tossing the last pillow back onto the bed before climbing in beside you. “Oh, definitely,” he said, pulling you into his arms again as he settled against the fresh sheets. “But you can’t say you didn’t love every second of it.”

You laughed softly, snuggling into his chest as his arms wrapped around you. “Okay, maybe I did.”

Jungwon chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. “Good. Because I’m definitely not letting you forget it.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled as you rested your head against his chest, the warmth of his body and the comfort of the freshly made bed lulling you into a sense of calm.

As you closed your eyes, Jungwon whispered softly against your hair, his voice full of affection, “Best birthday ever.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with warmth at his words. “Best birthday ever,” you agreed softly.

2K notes · View notes

skzdarlings · 3 months ago

Text

everything ; skz ; werewolf!felix x reader

requested by @yongbbokkie: if possible, can I have Sunshine!Felix with the prompt/s: ❛ i'm waiting for your permission to let me have my way with you. ❜ and ❛ do whatever you want with me, i'm yours. ❜

((maybe it's a pining from afar situation and something puts them in close quarters and Felix just can't help himself anymore))

read on ao3

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: werewolf!au. friends2lovers. miscommunication and misunderstandings followed by resolution and smut. mentions of reader being in a past abusive relationship though the circumstances are not detailed. not omegaverse just werewolves but mentions of rut cycles and slightly different physiology.

this is, um, the wettest thing i've ever written. there is no other word for it. so much come, masturbating (reader walks in on felix), pervy masturbating using reader's stuff lol, massive breeding kink, multiple rounds, scenting, possessiveness, throat-grabbing, biting, pussy eating, squirting, dirty talk. did i mention come.

word count: 15800 words. (hope it makes up for the delay hehe)

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy <3

For a few moments, Felix is yours. There is no awkwardness, no reluctance, just dancing, just friendship.

The club is packed so tightly, the lights and music as roaring as lightning and thunder. The extra stimulation overwhelms the senses, even werewolf senses. He doesn’t think and neither do you. You just dance, finding each other in the bouncing circle of your half-drunk friend group. He smiles and you take his hand, letting him pull you across the dance floor and into his arms.

You’ve missed this smile. You’ve missed these arms.

Sure, Felix is still your best friend and he is never truly far. The distance is not literal, just emotional, and that is so much worse.

Ever since his werewolf genes kicked in, ever since a pack took him in, things have just been… different.

Right now, you can pretend nothing has changed. You are far away from ivory moons waning over woodlands, of werewolf packs and supernatural powers. His senses are diluted here, overpowered by so many moving bodies and so much wild noise.

Felix smiles, that wonderful big smile that crinkles his eyes so sweetly. Lights flash over him, his blonde hair nearly glowing, his freckles like stars. He’s your best friend again. All yours for a few precious moments.

He’s bigger than he was, you think, with a bit of a flush, as you dance closer to him, his arms circling your body. Or maybe I just never noticed before.

Felix is not very tall, but he is not small either, lean and athletic and confident in every inch of his body. It feels like he is everywhere. Every time a strobe light flashes over him, he seems a little closer. You breathe in his cologne, subtler than it used to be because his sense of smell is so powerful now, but still recognizable.

You are definitely not a werewolf, but you are captivated by that smell. Something oak, woodsy, masculine but pretty. So very Felix. You want to bathe in that smell, luxuriate in him. You spent so many nights curled into his side, sharing his bed, wearing one of his hoodies, that you associate that scent with everything good, safe, and home.

His hands dance up your sides very softly, his breath puffing across your cheek as you dance and dance. One song pours into the next. You lose track of time. In forgetting the world, you forget yourself. You slide your arms around his shoulders and press close to him.

You used to hug him like this so easily, but you have hardly touched him at all the last few months. Felix could never be cruel to anyone so he has not outright rejected your usual closeness, but it is obvious that your touch now makes him uncomfortable. The last thing you ever, ever want to do is hurt Felix. So you have followed his lead. Every time he accidentally pulls a face – a displeased twitch of his nose, an upset furrow of his brow – you have backed away.

It’s just the werewolf senses, you keep telling yourself. He’s more sensitive now, that’s all.

He still hugs the others. The werewolf boys love rough-housing, in fact, tumbling all over each other constantly.

That’s different. Yes, very different than this, right here, right now, his hands sliding down your sides – slowly, like he is memorizing the shape of your waist. He squeezes your hips and it fills you with heat. His hot face touches yours, cheek to cheek. The music is pounding, a frantic sound, but you are slow dancing, keeping to the rhythm of your heartbeats where they beat against each other.

You slide a hand up the back of his neck, into his long blonde hair. You feel the shudder move through his whole body. It makes your legs feel weak, realizing the effect you have on him. It seems impossible, especially with how much he has pushed you away, but there is no way he is shivering for any other reason. He cannot possibly be cold. The club is packed and, besides, he is not human. He runs hot.

So hot. He radiates it, burning where your bodies press together. Felix has always been the sunshine that keeps you warm, but this is a different heat. You know better than to succumb to it, knowing this moment will pass, but right now it is so easy to cling to him, to breathe him in, to feel like the world is just you and him.

The real world soon returns. It’s getting late so your friends call it a night.

“We’ll drop you off, yeah?” Chan says to you. Felix lives with him and the other wolves now. They all have their own apartments but they live in the same high-rise. You live a few blocks down, close, but not quite belonging.

“I don’t mind walking,” you say.

You do not want to intrude and you do not want to make Felix uncomfortable. He doesn’t even know Chan is offering you a ride because he standing so far away.

Felix is looking at his phone, slouched against the car while everyone organizes themselves. He is wearing a leather jacket, a white shirt, blue jeans, his long hair falling into his face. You want to brush it back, feel it between your fingers. You want to lift his face and see his smile.

But he doesn’t look at you. Now that you are outside, now that the heat has dissipated and the cold breeze carries your bland, dull, human scent, now that he can remember you are not special and not like him – now, he is someone else, and you are too, and it is cold and dreary and miserable.

“What?” Chan says. He is such a good pack leader and a good friend, but it makes him utterly oblivious to little dramas like this. “You’re not walking by yourself this late at night, don’t be crazy. Come on.”

The pack leader does not take no for an answer. Even though you are not in the pack, being human, there is no refusing Bang Chan. He grabs you by the wrist and drags you to his car.

Jeongin is in the front seat. Seungmin takes a back corner before Felix can lift his head, before he even knows you will be in the car too.

Felix looks tense when realizes he is trapped with you. Whether he takes the middle seat or the other corner, you will be beside him. If standing together outside is so intolerable, then being in a car is going to be torturous.

“I can walk,” you say to him.

“What?” He shakes his head. When he smiles, it is not his usual smile, not something real. You know the difference. His proper smile brightens you but this smile makes your heart sink. “Of course not,” he says. “C’mon. It’s late. Let’s get home, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, but he is already gone, taking all sense of home with him.

You take the middle seat. Felix rolls his window down and leans towards it. His eyes are closed the entire journey, the wind blowing across his tired face.

Seungmin is also a werewolf but he does not seem bothered by your human scent. Jeongin and Chan, the other packmates, likewise seem indifferent, chatting about everything and nothing, totally unperturbed. And you must cross paths with many werewolves during the day, but no one ever seems bothered by you.

Felix is the only werewolf who seems to have a problem with your scent. You do not know what it is that affects him so deeply. You have tried changing soaps and shampoos but nothing seems to help. It must be something natural to your human body. Humans do not smell like werewolves in general. Werewolves release pheromones that humans cannot smell, and it is important in forging interpersonal dynamics. That includes romance. Werewolves mate for life. You know they find their true mates through smell as much as the other senses. They are biologically wired to pursue their perfect match based on all those senses.

You are not a werewolf. You can never be his true mate. In the few months since he fully and rapidly developed his werewolf senses, Felix has withdrawn from you even though he promised it would never separate you.

You used to talk about what would happen if his werewolf genes activated. He comes from a family of werewolves but the gene lays dormant in certain carriers. Most werewolves develop in puberty if they develop at all. Some people never develop their wolven senses or powers. A minority, like Felix, are triggered by something in adulthood and succumb all at once.

It was always a possibility, however minute, but he promised things would stay the same. He said you were his person, that best friend did not even suffice as a word to describe your love.

You’re my world, you know, he said one night, speaking with the sort of earnest sincerity that only Felix could, his deep voice rumbling in your ear as you cuddled into him.

You wanted to say it back but you were hurting at the time. You ended a bad relationship a year earlier. It took your tender heart far too long to realize how badly your ex-boyfriend was treating you. When Felix found out the details, he was furious, though he kept it down around you. You had never seen your best friend so emotional. He became even more protective in the aftermath.

He showed you, time and time again, what real love is supposed to be. It doesn’t rush or demand, it doesn’t manipulate or coerce, and it doesn’t ask you to be small. He would hold you all night if that’s what you needed. He would make you laugh and let you cry.

You slowly realized true love had been in front of you, all this time, begging to be seen.

At least, you thought so. After such a bad relationship, you were taking it slow, and Felix never rushed you. You thought, maybe, one day…

But just when you were ready, everything changed. The werewolf gene unexpectedly activated. Felix was admitted to a wolven hospital and underwent his first transformation under a full moon. When he came home, he was different. Sure, he was still Felix, with his long dyed hair and his many freckles and his sun-kissed skin, but his brown eyes were so very different when he looked at you.

If he looked at you, which he avoids these days.

“Home sweet home,” Chan says, parking the car outside your apartment building.

Felix wastes no time getting out of the vehicle, practically spilling onto the sidewalk in his haste. He holds the door for you but averts his gaze.

You thank Chan, say good night to the other boys, then you shuffle across the seat and step out of the car. Felix still does not look at you, pretending he is distracted with something across the street.

You are a little tipsy, your emotions easily riled. You want to say good night so it will finally prompt him to look at you, but you are suddenly very choked up. Thoughtlessly, you touch his arm instead.

He flinches. It feels worse than a slap.

You do not look at him again, hurrying to the building before he can see the tears in your eyes.

Miraculously, you hold them in until you reach your apartment. You are one foot in the doorway when the tears spill, all the emotions you’ve suppressed over the last few months finally flooding free. The door falls closed with a slam and the whole world collapses under you.

You drop right there, knees pulled up to your chest and face buried in your hands.

You spent so many nights like this, crying all alone until you worked up the courage to tell Felix about your bad relationship. He was immediately understanding. It was so foolish to fear he would ever judge you. He put an arm around you and held you all night.

He is the person you want to call when you are hurting. It is agonizing to be without him. He is the one person you need and the one person you cannot call right now.

You let yourself feel sorry and miserable. When the tears have subsided and you are slouched against your door, empty and tired, you make a decision to end this. You have spent too much of your life collapsed on the floor and crying on your lonesome. You refuse to do it again.

As horrible as it is, you need to distance yourself from Felix. This slow deterioration of your relationship is excruciating. If he decides to reach out, you will be there, but you simply cannot continue to compromise yourself.

You somehow manage to wash up and get in bed. You sleep through the morning and rise late, delaying the inevitable a little longer by scrolling on your phone. Felix used to be the first text of the day but there is nothing from him. You would usually message anyway but today you put your phone aside and get out of bed.

So much of Felix is in your apartment. Borrowed hoodies, games, books, and so much more. Items are littered everywhere from the bedroom to the bathroom to the kitchen and back. It takes an hour and you are not sure you find everything because he is so inextricably woven into your living space. You do not even see it anymore because it – because he – is always there.

You fill a cardboard box. Your plan is to walk the couple blocks to the high-rise and return it with a vague explanation. You are not sure what to say. Perhaps it is best to opt for brevity. After all, this is not a break-up because you are not a couple.

No, you think, staring at the full box with watery eyes, this is worse.

You make it a few steps out your door before you drop the box. It is way, way too heavy for you to carry two feet, never mind two city blocks. Already panting with exertion, you stare at the box taking up a huge slab of the narrow corridor.

You really don’t want to ask him to come get it, nor do you want to make multiple trips. You are scared that if you give him the opportunity, he will try and reassure you that nothing is wrong and you don’t need to do this. You’ll believe him in the moment, but then it will start all over again.

Like ripping off a bandage, it has to go all at once. It’s time to heal.

You push the box, budging it down the corridor inch by slow inch. You reach the elevator and press the call button. You calculate the logistics of pushing and shoving the box for two blocks, mostly concerned the cardboard will rip if it snags on something outside.

Lost in thought, you don’t see a person in the elevator and accidentally shove the box at him. He yelps, a loud cry of surprise as he jumps aside. It makes you leap out of your skin, shooting upright to look at him.

Some of your despondency leaves at the friendly face of your neighbour.

“Changbin!” you say. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even see you there.”

“Hey now,” he says, winking, his handsome face plastered with a grin, “I’m not that short.”

“No, of course not,” you say, laughing along with him.

Changbin is a werewolf as well. There are a lot of packs on this side of town because the large national park is nearby. The wolves like to use the expansive forest when the full moon cycle swings around.

“Moving out?” he asks with an eyebrow quirk.

“Ah,” you say. “Not quite.”

You explain your predicament, that the box belongs to a friend and you need to somehow reach his apartment building two blocks away. Changbin, ever the charmer and ever the helper, immediately offers his aid.

“Oh, you don’t have to—” you start, but he has already swung the big box into his arms.

Werewolves do have supernatural strength. Changbin looks strong, with big biceps and a stocky frame, never mind the supernatural enhancement. He doesn’t even break a sweat. The box might as well be empty for all the difference it makes to him.

He is kind enough to walk two blocks to the high-rise. You chat on the way and find the conversation flows easily. You also can’t help but notice he has no problem with your scent. It really is just Felix who seems so repulsed.

You ring the buzzer for Felix’s apartment but there is no answer. You try a couple more times, embarrassed because Changbin is waiting. Fortunately, he is very non-plussed, humming to himself while you ring the buzzer.

After a few tries, you ring Chan instead. He answers promptly and you explain the bare bones of the situation, that you have a box for Felix and you would appreciate if he could pass it along. Chan agrees, of course.

Maybe it is for the best. You can leave the box with Chan and not even have to confront Felix at all.

Chan buzzes you into the building. Changbin walks you to the elevator where he puts the box down. You thank him profusely but he waves it off and states he was happy to help.

It looks like he wants to say something more, looking at you while he rubs the back of his neck. In the end, he says he will see you around and departs.

You exhale. The worst of your nerves have dissipated since Felix is not even home. You have been the one instigating your interactions the last few months so you figure if you just quietly step back, he won’t even notice.

It pains you to admit it, that you could disappear from his life and he would just… not care. You stuff those feelings down, down, down for now. You prepare a friendly smile for Chan so he doesn’t ask too many questions.

When you reach the pack floor, you give the box a good shove into the corridor. Chan lives directly across from the elevator so you don’t have far to go.

Except there are voices in the corridor. You turn towards the sound.

An awful chill freezes in your blood, your whole body going rigid at what you see.

Felix is home. He is standing in his open doorway, half-dressed in a pair of jeans and nothing more. His long hair looks more dishevelled than usual, like someone has been running their fingers through it.

Someone. He is talking to a young woman. You don’t know her too well, simply that she is the only female werewolf in Chan’s small pack. She is wearing more clothes than Felix but still very casual in shorts and a t-shirt, barefoot like this is her home. You suppose it is, much more her home than yours.

She belongs. You do not.

Her and Felix are standing close while they converse. So close. They speak to each other in hushed tones, her expression tender and sympathetic while Felix winces in seeming pain. The details of their conversation are inarticulate at a distance but their voices are nonetheless audible.

Your scent reaches Felix first. He straightens so fast it would be comical under any other circumstances.

Nothing is funny right now. You feel like a complete and utter fool, standing in his corridor with a box of his things like he cares about them at all. He has already moved on. You were in denial, a stupid little human girl still clinging desperately to old memories.

“I better go,” the woman says. She leans up and kisses Felix on the cheek, gives him a little wink and mumbles something only he can hear. She turns and walks into the apartment next door, giving you a genuinely friendly wave. She has always been polite to you and you have no reason to dislike her. You can only wave back pathetically.

Your hand slaps your side when she disappears into her apartment. You and Felix look at each other.

He looks guilty. Sweat dots his hairline, streaks his bare chest, and his face is flushed. It is very obvious what he has been doing all morning.

The thought of such a fantasy was once tantalizing. The sight of him, like this, would make you dizzy. You remember the last time he casually took off his shirt, the swoop of desire that moved inside you, a sensation you did not even know you could still feel after your bad relationship.

Now that swoop is just nausea. There is no pleasure in it at all.

You are completely mortified.

“Hey,” Felix says. His deep voice breaks on a high-pitched twinge. He clears his throat. “Um,” he says. He runs his fingers through his hair, mussing it even more. He can’t seem to bring himself to meet your gaze, eyes darting all over the corridor but never you.

You curl your fingers, nails pressing hard into your palm.

“Look,” he says, clearing his throat again. “We need to talk about—”

You don’t want to hear it. You can’t hear it. You are hurt and embarrassed and devastated. Why couldn’t he just tell you he wanted to pursue a werewolf? It makes sense, biologically, and you can hardly fault him for the desire. Honesty would have hurt but not like this. Now you have to suffer the rejection of the only man you ever truly loved and suffer the fact you were not even worth a conversation.

It is too late to talk.

“It’s fine, Felix,” you say. All your messy, menial scripts crumble in your mind. Emotion takes over, bitterness and pain and irritation. “I brought you your things,” you say, pointing to the box. His eyes dart there for the first time, brow furrowing. “If I find anymore, I’ll give them to Chan. He’ll pass them along.”

“Um, what?” He looks from the box to you.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you say, blinking back tears. Your feelings come out in fragments, word after word with little coherency. “After everything I went through last year – I just – this is too much. The werewolf thing – I just – I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t have you in my life like this. Thank you for your friendship. The memories will always be important to me. But it’s for the best we don’t see each other again.”

You had not planned on so much finality, but that was before. Now you need to leave. If you stay here another second, you are going to fall apart.

“Good luck with everything,” you say.

You turn to leave but he says your name. You suck in a breath, wait a beat, and slowly turn back around.

Felix walks partway down the hallway, his whole face screwed up with pain and confusion. His mouth is moving but no words are coming out. Finally he closes his eyes and shakes his head, slamming a hand into his hair.

“Hold on,” he says. “Hold on, I – what are you talking about? You – you don’t want to be friends? How can – You can’t—” That deep voice breaks again, fracturing with emotion.

A part of you knows that you are being too harsh, letting your own emotions dominate your words. Another part of you is too heartbroken to care.

“It’s for the best,” you say weakly, your voice barely more than a breath of a sound. “Really.”

“For the best?” he asks, voice pitching up again. He has not looked at you so intensely for so long. “How can you say that to me?”

Much to your horror, he starts crying first. His tears seem to catch him by surprise too, his expression puckering as he tries to stop it. A hand flies up, covering his eyes. He shakes his head rapidly.

“Felix,” you whisper.

“For the best?” he repeats. He drops his hand and takes a shuddering breath.

You avert your gaze. You can’t stand to look at his eyes so full of tears, his face so strained with hurt.

“Did something happen?” he asks, taking a few more steps towards you. “Was it – was it me? You said – the werewolf thing – Did I do something? Please, please tell me.”

He doesn’t even realize how much he has withdrawn from you. He is bad at controlling his face, as evidenced now, so he probably has no idea how blatant his repulsion has been. Maybe he thought he was being subtle. Maybe he thought you wouldn’t care, that you were just his friend and you would be content to relegate yourself to the sidelines of his life. Maybe that is all your fault after all.

If you were a better friend, you would have coped with his new feelings. You would have been happy for him. If you were a better friend, maybe he would have told you sooner.

“You deserve a better friend than me,” you say.

He looks at you like you are completely crazy, his head tilted, his eyes narrowing.

“What?” he asks. “Where is this coming from? Please, I don’t understand. You can’t be saying what I think you’re saying.”

“I already told you,” you say, as calmly as you can. “I just can’t do this anymore. Our lives are heading in different directions and I – I – I just need to go. I want to go. Please.”

You have known Felix all your life. You were children together, hapless youths on a playground that immediately loved each other with the easy, thoughtless affection of childhood.

He reminds you of that child now, innocently standing in the corridor with his arms hanging limp at his sides and so much bewilderment on his freckled face.

“You want to go?” he repeats, voice low, soft.

You nod. After a second, he nods back, bottom lip still quivering. A fresh stream of tears spill over his eyes. He hiccups on a sob, turning away and covering his face.

“Fine,” he says, speaking between shaky breaths. “Go. I can’t – I can’t keep you here if you want to go.”

“Thank you,” you say softly. The elevator is still waiting when you press the call button. You step onto it and say, “Good bye, Felix.”

As the doors close, you hear another choking sob. You name is lost in the sound.

The door closes.

The regret is instantaneous. You stare at your phone for hours and even debate returning to his apartment, but in the end you do nothing.

You replay every moment, from seeing him with the other werewolf to his confusion and your departure. It was a long, long walk home, tears streaming down your face as your mind went back even further, remembering every moment of your friendship.

How could this have happened? You and Felix have always been open with each other. He was the first person you confided in about your bad relationship and he immediately did everything to save you from it. But when it was the other way around, when the werewolf gene activated, he turned away from your friendship. You poured your heart out to him, trusting he would catch it and keep it safe, but he did not feel the same way.

Secrets, confusion, heartbreak. It plays on a loop in your mind.

It is the middle of the night when you get a text. He has not messaged in a while, not in a substantial way. If you scroll back on your phone, you can see the disintegration of communication, the days when he would send message after message with any and every thought slowly petering down to brief replies and a vague acknowledgement at the very best.

This message is more. You can hear his voice when you read it, can picture those dark eyes.

Tell me this isn’t real. Please.

You feel sick. You are angry at him for being the one to withdraw only to suddenly turn on his heel. You are angry at yourself for reacting so drastically and immaturely. Mostly, you are just sad.

If I did something, I’m sorry, he writes. I’ll never stop being sorry. I’ll fix it. I’ll keep my distance. Just don’t say I can never see you again.

You type a reply, then delete it, then repeat.

You say nothing. Every time you try, you see him and her in that corridor, you see him flinching from your touch, you see him recoiling at your scent. It twists and tangles with memories of warm nights and tender smiles. You wipe your tears and remember when he did it for you, his thumb so gently sweeping your cheek. He used to touch you like you were precious to him. Now he flinches from your touch.

He does not text the next day, or the day after, or the day after that. You are not sure if it is better or worse.

After about a week, he messages again, stating, I miss you.

You are at your work desk but he immediately seizes your full attention, as he always has.

You stare at your phone. You take a breath. You have had a few days to decompress, to let the wound bleed. It is still sore to the touch.

You write, I miss you too.

You do not check your phone for a while, listening to the relentless buzz as he sends eager message after eager message. It feels like the old days for a minute, but slows to a stop when you do not reply. You read them back later, his pleading, his sweetness. It makes you spiral, on the one hand wanting to take it all back, but on the other hand picturing his flinch, his disgust, knowing it is only a matter of time before your heart breaks again.

You do not reply. He takes the hint and gives you a few more days, then he messages, I still have your stuff in my place too, you know?

I know, is all you say. I have more of your stuff too.

As predicted, you have been finding his things all over the apartment. Even things which are technically yours are still stamped with his memory. He helped you move into this place after the break-up. He took you shopping and paid for so many things to get you back on your feet. Everything from blankets to cushions to plates make you think of him. This was just a room before he made it a home. Without him, it is just a room again.

There are a couple days of silence, then some of his packmates start messaging you. You don’t think he is sending them after you, as Felix would never manipulate or coerce you like that. They reach out of their own volition, curious because they have not seen you in a while. But it is all so overwhelming, so you throw your phone under a pillow and go for a walk.

That is when you run into Changbin again. His smile is charming as ever when he strikes up a friendly conversation.

“I was wondering,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, not-so-inadvertently flexing his big bicep when he does, “I was going to ask a couple weeks ago, when I helped you with that box – ah, I was kicking myself after because I didn’t see you for a while. But – I thought we had a nice conversation. Maybe you and me could do something.”

“Do something,” you repeat. It sounds like he is asking you out which is a little perplexing, because he is a werewolf and you are a human. Surely nothing serious can come of it. You used to think it was possible, as there are plenty of movies and romance novels to prove it, but your personal experience has led you to other conclusions.

“A date,” he clarifies, grinning that handsome smile. “You and me. My treat. No pressure. I just think you’re clever and, ah, very beautiful, and I want to know you better.”

A polite rejection is on the tip of your tongue. You are not in any emotional state to try dating someone right now. But you think of Felix and that woman in the corridor, and you think of your phone buzzing, and you think of another long, lonely night stewing in it all.

Changbin must be looking for something casual anyway. A werewolf would not truly settle down with a human. Maybe this is a good opportunity to put yourself out there.

“Sure,” you say. “I’d like that.”

Changbin takes you out a few days later. You actually do enjoy yourself. He is very charming and it is easy to talk to him, plus the date itself is very fun. He takes you out for food then to an arcade, flopping at every game in a hilarious spectacle.

“I’m a werewolf,” he complains later. “I’m strong! Those games were rigged.”

You giggle, wrapping yourself up in the jacket he leant you. You are walking back to the apartment building, the warm evening giving way to a cool night as you make the trek. It is enjoyable until you reach the building, at which point you start to panic. Does he expect to be invited into your apartment? Does he expect… more? The thought leaves you dizzy and not in a good way. Changbin is so very handsome and so very likable. Going out with him showed you that you can enjoy yourself without the crutch of a lifelong friendship.

You don’t need Felix.

But you still want him.

You try to go back and find the moment it all went wrong, try to picture a different ending, but it feels impossible. A foolish fantasy from a girl still clinging to the dying dredges of hope and affection. There is a wonderful, handsome man at your side, a werewolf at that, and your mind is somewhere else.

Changbin remarks on it, politely but nonetheless curiously. He gives you a penetrating look, like he knows something is wrong and there is no use lying.

You sigh.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I just… I recently broke-up with a friend.”

“With a friend?” he asks, eyebrows jumping with surprise. “What kind of friend?”

“A close one, very close,” you say. “We’ve known each other forever, you see. He’s the most wonderful person I have ever known. He’s good to everyone, open-hearted, kind, warm. I have truly never known a better man. He just makes every room a little brighter when he’s in it. You would like him, I think. Everyone does. He’s a werewolf but the transformation only happened for the first time this year. Since then…” You sniffle. “Things have been different. Werewolves are biologically wired to be with other werewolves and form packs… I think my human status just started affecting him negatively.”

“Biology,” Changbin says like it is a foreign word. He looks at you with a cocked eyebrow. “It exists, yeah, but werewolves still have hearts, you know? It’s nice finding other werewolves so you aren’t alone, but it isn’t necessary. Love is complicated.”

That does give you pause for a moment. A logical part of you knows it is true, that plenty of werewolves make relationships work with humans, but that is almost harder to accept. If it’s just biological, then it cannot be helped. But if it’s a choice—

“So he isn’t biologically wired to hate me now that he’s a werewolf,” you say miserably. “It’s just something he chose to do.”

“Now, I didn’t say that,” Changbin says. “But, if that is what happened, he’s an idiot. If you were that obviously in love with me, ah, I wouldn’t let you go that easy.”

“I’m not in love with him…” The lie tumbles without an ounce of confidence. Changbin just gives you an amused look. Embarrassed, you drop your gaze. “It doesn’t matter,” you say. “He doesn’t feel the same way. Believe me, I know how he’s been looking at me, or how he won’t. That’s why I walked away. I was holding onto a friendship that once was and a fantasy that will never be. It’s time to be reasonable.”

“Ah, I don’t think love is very reasonable,” he says. “But you should stay true to yourself and do what’s right. And, in the mean time, if you need a friend…”

You exchange smiles. A weight lifts off your shoulder as Changbin changes the subject to friendship between you.

“I would like a friend,” you say. “Thank you, Changbin.”

“Ah, it’s been fun. But give me back my jacket,” he teases. “Since we’re friends I don’t need to impress you. I’m cold.”

“I thought werewolves run hot,” you say, laughing. You shrug off the coat and hand it to him.

“Eh, a little bit, maybe more than humans. But the blood really only gets hot during a rut cycle,” he says.

It is a casual statement. He is too preoccupied with zipping up his jacket to notice you get a little flustered.

You know a bit about ruts, namely that werewolves have a cycle which span a few days every month. It’s a fertility and reproduction thing, pushing developed werewolves to find mates and, well, mate them. It is a common part of the werewolf lifestyle so it is fair for Changbin to so casually mention it.

It is not because of Changbin that you feel flustered. You are thinking about Felix that night at the club, how burning hot he was compared to everyone else. Now that you think of it, not even Chan felt so hot when he grabbed your wrist, nor Seungmin beside you in the car. Felix, though, was radiating heat. Was he starting a rut cycle? Perhaps that explains why he was so hot and sweaty the next day during your confrontation.

You remember the other werewolf in the corridor. Your heart sinks again. Was she helping him through his rut? Then again, she left the second you arrived. Why were they even in the hallway? If she was spending his rut with him, surely they would have been inside together, not yapping in the hallway...

“You look worried,” Changbin says.

You are gnawing your bottom lip, eyes darting around as you contemplate that day. At his words, you blink to attention, doing your best to shake the anxiety.

“It’s nothing,” you say. “I’m just confused about so many things right now.”

“You know, if this guy really is so great and wonderful – and I think he is, if someone like you loves him so much – then he will probably be happy to answer your questions so you don’t feel so confused.”

“Ugh.” You slap a hand over your eyes and shake your head. “Why do you have to be so decent and mentally competent and right?”

“Jutdae,” he says, then flexes an arm and squeezes a bicep through the jacket. “And lots of protein.”

You laugh again. With a few more words of thanks and a promise to catch up again soon, you give him one final good night hug. He says he might meet up with some friends so you part ways, Changbin strolling while you head inside.

You look at your phone, considering his words as you ride the elevator to your floor. Changbin is right. Giving Felix the silent treatment is not helping you or him. Even though the conversation will probably be uncomfortable in so many ways, you should talk to him. It might not repair anything, but at least you will have closure. That wound cannot heal so long as it is still bleeding and festering.

You are drafting a text message in your head when you step off the elevator.

Then you lift your eyes and stumble to a stop.

Felix is sitting outside your apartment door. He is wearing jeans and a blue flannel, a denim jacket on top of that. A habitual joke is on the tip of your tongue, seeing him so decked out in his favourite colour. It disappears at the morose look on his face.

His long blonde hair is down around his shoulders, neglected black roots peeking at the crown of his head. He looks a little wan and very tired, his head lolled to the side.

He scents you before he sees you, eyes fluttering closed for a second, then he looks at you.

He really looks at you.

Felix always has such a softness in his gaze, but this look is searing. It moves through you, a forceful heat twining its way around your insides. It holds you in captivated thrall as he stands, one black boot thumping against the ground with the force of his push as he straightens himself out.

That piercing looks crinkles as more of your scent registers to him. His face twists with revulsion, except it is even more severe than usual. It is so disturbed that it makes you think his past expressions were not disgust at all, because this face is so terrorized by whatever he smells.

“Where were you?” he asks.

You have been staring at each other in silence for so long that his voice reverberates loudly in the corridor. It makes you jump as the smoothness of his deep voice pours into you. It’s only been a few weeks since you last heard him speak, but somehow you forgot how profoundly that voice could affect you, especially when he drops it so deliberately.

“Out,” you say. You are so flustered that your body goes into defense mode, your tone sharp when you say, “I don’t need your permission for that.”

That softens the slash of his gaze. He shakes his head.

“No,” he says softly. “Of course not. I’m sorry.”

His apology is so sincere, eyes searching yours for something beyond the surface. You feel like he is speaking to you without words, somehow conveying a lifetime of love in the way he looks at you, saying, it’s me.

You soften too, in every way, your voice and your posture, your heart and everything inside you. So soft and malleable, all that heat expanding in every direction until you can imagine yourself radiating it like he did. It feels so inappropriate to be aroused when there is so much drama between you, when a serious conversation needs to be had. But he is looking at you so intensely, colours of emotions playing across his face. A shaking breath draws your gaze to his lips.

He says your name. It feels like a touch. You feel dizzy again, this time in a very good way, despite yourself.

You hear his sharp intake of breath as you step a little closer. Your scent is affecting him. It makes him do a double-take, looking at you up and down without any subtlety. It is blatant, searching. For lack of a better word, predatory, a wolf on the prowl, scenting something it wants, maybe needs. Your skirt is long, sweeping past your knees, but you feel like he can see past it somehow.

His eyes, low on your body, flick up to your face. Your knees knock. That hungry look twists into something repulsed again, his brow furrowing. It darkens his whole face.

Of course. He is disgusted with you and your boring human scent and he always has been. You cannot give into hopeful delusions.

“What are you doing here?” you ask in your most casual tone, striding up to him like you are unaffected by his presence.

He steps to the side, staring while you fumble around in your purse for your keys.

“I wanted to talk,” he says.

You stare into your bag, rifling through mint wrappers and lipsticks and bus tickets. You can feel his eyes, practically burning a hole in the side of your head. You want to be chill, want to laugh and tell him he’s acting weird, to knock it off. You want to be indifferent, remind him there is a distance between you now and his staring is not appropriate.

Then he puts a hand on the door, near your head. He moves around you, undeniably scenting you as he goes. His other hand comes around the other side, caging you between him and the door. Your back is to him but you can still feel his gaze, shivering when he breathes you in.

You swallow, cringing at the wave of arousal that moves through you when his nose brushes the back of your neck.

Werewolf instincts, you remind yourself, trying to find the resolve to snap him out of it, except that’s not what you want. You want him to press right against you and put his mouth on your neck, to taste everything he is scenting.

Until you remember he hates the scent. So much so, he makes a guttural noise that sounds like a growl, rumbling at the base of his throat.

You expect him to flinch and move away. You imagine him shaking his head as he abandons his efforts to reconcile because you’re just not worth it.

You are not expecting him to say, “Why do you smell like another werewolf?”

“What?” you say. “I – I don’t—”

“Yes, you do,” he says, taking another deep breath. “It’s all over you. Who is he?”

Oh, you have been wearing Changbin’s jacket for the last half-hour. You did not notice any smell but you are not a werewolf. To Felix, you must be utterly smothered in it. You wonder if it smells like a sex pheromone, given Changbin was taking you on a date, maybe permeating a desire your human senses did not notice.

Whatever it is, it has Felix riled in a way you have never seen before. He has been very careful to hold himself in check around you. The worst of his werewolf symptoms have been hidden from the start. It is part of why you are so hurt, that he would not trust you with it.

Now it overrides his good sense. His nose swipes the back of your neck again, his fingers curling against the door where his hands sit.

“He’s just a friend,” you say.

“A friend,” he repeats. “He doesn’t smell like a friend.”

“Well, he is,” you say. All your desire, heartbreak, and desperation swell inside you, bursting like a firework, hot and crackling. With a pounding heart, you turn around to face him, intent on confrontation when you snap, “Why would that even matter to you?”

You look into his eyes. He is so close, arms around you, that woodsy scent enveloping you. It feels like coming home, falling into his gaze, letting the heat wash over you as he stares back. There is something animalistic about his intensity, a predator with its hackles raised, sights set and hunger striking.

“Felix,” you whisper, voice heavy with a thousand questions that never manifest.

One hand leaves the door. He grabs the back of your neck, not roughly, not cruelly, but with an undoubted and irrevocable command. It makes another firework burst inside you. You gasp.

That gasp is interrupted when he dives in without any hesitation, his mouth thoroughly claiming yours in a hot, desperate kiss.

Whenever you dared to fantasize a kiss with Felix, it was always soft, a little brief, giving it time to grow. You never imagined so much heat overwhelming you all at once, that his mouth would be so ravishing. You didn’t even know a kiss could move through your whole body, that when he puts his tongue in your mouth it would feel like he is already fucking you, your body throbbing with want.

It is not just werewolf instinct because you react too. You drop your purse on the floor and put your hands on him, one on his chest and the other his neck, clinging to him like he clings to you. He takes it as invitation, his other hand leaving the door to hold your waist. His grip is powerful, but despite the supernatural strength it does not hurt. No, Felix would never hurt you. Oh, it was so stupid to think he ever would.

He makes a sound that has you whimpering in turn, the low grunt pressing at your most vulnerable places. The kiss is open-mouthed, hot and wet and messy.

He walks you back that final step, pressing you to the door. He cups the back of your head so you don’t hit it.

You grab the collar of his denim jacket and yank on it, pulling him even closer. You are completely delirious with him. Everything that has happened and everything that will happen is wholly unimportant as he slots his whole body along yours.

His leg pushes between your thighs, his hips pinning you to the door. The thought would have you terrified a year ago, but now it just feels right. Of course it feels right, because this is Felix, who has seen you at your most vulnerable and healed you, who has caught you every time you fall. He will always fix what hurts. He will always take care of you.

Your body knows it, begging for him, hips rearing towards him. It presses his thigh against the juncture between your legs, makes it so your flimsy skirt doesn’t matter at all. You are not thinking when you start to rock against him.

You forgot your body could feel so much pleasure.

“Oh, fuck—” he says, his already deep voice somehow even lower as he curses.

You squeak as he holds you against the door, deliberately rocking his thigh between yours with more pressure and speed than you could manage. It makes a torrent of mortifying sounds spill past your lips, but he gathers them all up lovingly, tastes them on his tongue as he chases down your gasping breath. Every little mewl, every breath, every squeaking hiccup is swallowed up by him.

“Come for me, please,” he whispers, roughly. It sounds like begging despite how much physical power he has over you. It would scare if it was someone else, but that supernatural strength doesn’t matter because it bends to you, waiting for your permission.

You just barely remember you are in the corridor. You hope no one chooses now to step out of their apartment. You wonder if the other werewolves on the floor can scent whatever pheromones Felix must be giving off.

It doesn’t matter. You’re hurtling towards an orgasm and you can’t stop it. You’re going to come on him, just like this, fully clothed but so wet that you can feel it gushing as he grinds his thigh against you.

You grab onto his belt, feeling the curve of his bulge just below your palm. It makes his breath stutter and it makes you surrender. Your body seizes and your pussy throbs as you come, a strangled cry in your throat while rocking desperately against him.

It settles slowly, the world coming back in increments. You are breathing hard, clinging to each other, bodies still pressed so tightly together. You can feel his heart beating hard and fast. It keeps rhythm with the lingering thrum below.

So much for conversation. Grinding all over Felix in a semi-public space was not in the plan at all.

“Oh my god,” you say, voice breaking as you are hit with realization. You push at him and he goes obediently.

“Fuck,” he says, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head. He runs his hands through his hair, shakes out the length of it while breathing erratically.

Your heart is still pounding. You put your hand over your chest like that will calm it down.

Felix looks at you.

You recognize this look.

This look – this is the face you have been mistaking for disgust. Now that you have seen him truly reviled, snarling at Changbin’s scent on your body, you realize it is not disgust, not at all. It’s pain, a wincing, cringing desperation as he fights to keep everything inside him.

It is barely contained right now, his chest still heaving, his fly still bulging, hands shaking at his sides as he stares at you with open need.

“Oh my god,” you say again. You lean against the door for support, closing your eyes to try and make sense of the world. You see the events of the last month play out, the months before that, going back further and further until you shake your head to clear your mind. “I just—” You open your eyes, meet his anxious gaze. “Just give me some time,” you say. “I – I need to think – I’m so—”

“It’s okay,” he says, hands out to placate you, but careful not to touch you. He forces himself to smile despite his own emotional tumult. Sweat breaks out on his hairline. “Take your time, I – I’m sorry, I didn’t come here to—I just wanted to talk—I—”

“I know,” you say. “I know.”

He nods sharply, clearing his throat as he turns awkwardly to the side. He points vaguely behind him, stutters something like, “I’ll go, um, I’ll just—”

He turns on his heel and walks away, taking the corner to the stairwell so fast that you blink and he is gone.

You can hear him bounding down the stairs. You stand there, listening until he is too far to hear.

With every limb shaking, you pick up your purse and finally fish out your keys. You manage to turn the key in the lock and step inside before you crumple to your knees.

This time your thoughts are a very different whirlwind, just as confused and just as emotional, but so conquered by sensation that you find yourself just sitting there, touching your lips, thinking of him.

There is a lot to think about.

You realize you have been wrong about so many things. You and Felix should have spoken a long time ago. You have both been skirting each other, tentatively regarding the other, worried you might hurt them. It resulted in you both getting hurt anyway.

You are so, so scared of making that hurt worse. It makes you hesitate.

A day goes by. Felix respects your space. On the second day, when you contemplate reaching out for a conversation – a real conversation – your phone buzzes.

You are surprised to see that it is Bang Chan.

Hey, he writes. I need to talk to you right now. It’s about Felix.

Your heart-rate shoots through the roof, terror obliterating every other emotion.

Is he okay? you write. What happened??

Look, I’m just gonna say it, Chan writes. Felix is in rut. You know what that is?

Yes, you say.

At first, you are relieved he is not hurt and it is something so mundane. Then you are flustered as you recall the other night. You remember the heat between you, the way you came on his body and the way he begged for it. Even now, you are more aroused than embarrassed, shivering as you remember the way he looked at you.

Right, Chan says. Look I promise I’m not asking you to sleep with him or something. I wouldn’t do that. You have no responsibility for anything. But you also gotta know that dumb kid is in love with you, right? Like… insane in love. Like… won’t let anyone else see him or help him even though he’s a new werewolf, hasn’t had that many ruts, and it hasn’t even been a whole month since the last one.

You watch as each text appears, your adrenaline building with every word. The phone shakes in your tight grip.

Didn’t someone help him with his last rut? You ask. I saw her at his apartment.

What??? Chan answers quickly. No. I sent her over to see if he needed anything, because he kept telling me to fuck off because I was telling him to call you. I’m telling him again but he still won’t listen. You know he thinks he’s a monster right?

You are still reeling from the revelation that he and the girl were not an item at all, that they were truly just having a conversation. He was flushed and sweaty because he was in rut, not because he spent all morning with her. You were the one racing to conclusions, not even giving him a chance to explain. You remember him stepping towards you, asking to speak, but you cut him off before he could. You assumed he just wanted to reject you.

Chan says Felix is in love you. Is it possible that after a conversation with another wolf, he was gathering the courage to tell you, only for you to say you never wanted to see him again?

Now you read the last message and your heart sinks, a painfully heavy weight in your gut.

A monster? you write. What do you mean?

That doesn’t even make sense. Felix is the kindest, most loving man you know. Assuming werewolves are monstrous is such a medieval thought that it never occurred to you for a second that he would feel that way.

Yeah, Chan says. Look, he never told me the details because he said it wasn’t his story to tell, but he told me that you went through something really hard and that was why he didn’t want to stress you out with the werewolf thing. It can be pretty intense, especially at the start, and especially when you’re already an adult. He spent his whole life thinking he was one thing only for everything to change really quickly. He was really scared of coming on too strong and losing you because of it.

You made his worst fears come true, you realize, numb as you stare at the screen.

You know Felix, Chan writes, He’d rather just suffer alone than have someone else feel it too. I told him to trust you more, that you would want to help, but there’s no getting through to him when he’s like that. I love the guy but he can be kinda stubborn.

You both have a stubborn streak. The last month of drama attests to that.

What do you want me to do? you ask. You have more answers but you feel just as lost as before, maybe even more.

Can you just talk to him please? Chan says. He holed himself up in his apartment and he won’t let anyone in. He stopped answering my messages too. Ruts are a Molotov cocktail of hormones. They’re intense even if you’re experienced and he isn’t. I just don’t want him to get hurt and not do anything about it because he doesn’t want to bother anyone.

You remember Felix in that corridor, arms hanging limp at his sides, looking at you with so much hurt and sorrow. Despite that, he didn’t pressure you to stay. He listened. He let you go because he thought you wanted that. He stood by himself in that corridor, crying over a box of his things that he thought had a home with you.

Tears blur your vision. You have to rub your eyes before answering Chan.

I’ll go to him, you write. I don’t want him hurt either.

I know you don’t, Chan says. You have a spare key to his place?

Yes.

Good, Chan says. He’s not answering his door so you’re gonna need it. Give the guy a smack for me, hey?

His joke makes you laugh, though it is strained. You give yourself a second to compose yourself then you are on your feet. You are in a loose house dress and tights, face bare and hair undone, but you do not waste another second. You know you can be yourself around Felix no matter what. You wish he understood the feeling was reciprocated.

This time, instead of running away, you run to him. This time, you will make him understand.

The two city blocks pass in a blur. You have never moved so fast in all your life, bumping into slow stragglers as you barrel down the street.

By the time you step off the elevator on his floor, you are warm and out of breath. You wipe a little perspiration off your forehead as you approach.

You were so frantic in your determination to arrive, there was no time for nerves to materialize. They strike all at once, twisting anxiously as you knock. You wait a minute but he doesn’t answer, just like Chan predicted.

You take a steadying breath and put the key in the lock. Hand over your heart, you push open the door and step into the apartment.

It does not look any different from the last time you were here. Even your slippers are still by the door. You disregard them now, stepping out of your shoes and venturing forward with a nervous little patter.

If you were a werewolf, maybe you would have scented a change in the air, but it smells and feels familiar. The apartment is very still, maybe a little warmer than usual, sunlight streaming through the windows.

You finally hear a sound. You leave the small foyer and make a very clumsy entrance into the room.

You can hardly blame yourself for stumbling. Felix is sitting on the couch in nothing but a pair of jeans. It looks like the same blue jeans from the other night. Yes, in fact, you are sure they are because you can see the faintest streak on his thigh. You were embarrassed to find you were so wet that it came through your panties and skirt. You wondered if it got on him.

You certainly have an answer now.

Felix is touching himself. He is slouched back on the couch, his bare chest damp with sweat, his knees spread apart. His jeans are pulled open and it looks roughly torn, the zipper snapped off the fly. His hand is wrapped around his cock. One of your t-shirts is clutched tightly in the other hand. He is holding it against his face, covering his eyes, mouth, and nose. He is clearly chasing the scent, knuckles whitening with how tightly he grips it.

His abdomen clenches as he approaches a climax. You watch as he quickly wraps the t-shirt around his cock, fucking the material. His eyes are closed, head thrown back.

You snap to the realization that he has no idea you’re here, so overwhelmed with your scent from the shirt.

You quickly cover your eyes with both hands and yelp his name.

His reply is a startled yelp as well. You peek at him through your fingers, watching as he frantically stuffs the t-shirt between the couch cushions. He tries to stand at the same time, fighting to close his pants over an uncooperative erection that does not seem to be going down.

“Fuck, sorry, I – hold on, fuck – I can explain—” he stammers.

“Um, me too,” you say.

He can’t get his pants closed but he gets himself tucked back inside. He keeps a grip on the fly with one hand, the other running through his long hair.

Then he is standing there, flushed and out of breath. You slowly lower your fingers from your face.

There is a moment of silence, both of you startled. After a bit of staring, he cracks a nervous smile. You tentatively return it.

His brow smooths out, his dimple poking into his cheek. He chuckles first, then you laugh, then you are laughing together. It feels good, letting out all the ridiculous tension.

“Why, uhh, why are you here?” he finally asks.

“Um, Chan texted,” you say.

“Oh, for the love of—” He cuts off his own tirade, shaking his head and exhaling heavily.

You twist your hands together, fingers budging in a nervous fidget.

“Um, he told me… he told me…” You forget your precise words because Felix meets your eyes, holding your gaze in his. You lose yourself in the depth of his dark eyes. You think your heart is beating loud enough to hear.

You look away, overwhelmed by the intensity of his stare. Your eyes stray to the couch, to your t-shirt poking out between the cushions. You are startled by a jolt between your legs, like a lightning bolt of arousal, the previous scene suddenly resonating with clarity.

“I—” You almost choke on your words, so much nervousness, so much fear, so much need in your voice. You meet his searching eyes, stepping forward as if compelled by them. “I thought my scent disgusted you.”

He blinks back at you, your words taking a moment to settle. Then he furrows his brow and tilts his head. A bit of hair falls forward and he tucks it back.

“Uhhhh, what?” he asks. “Dis—disgusted me? You thought—” He looks back at the couch too. He is very flushed, his rut no doubt keeping him suspended on a perpetual edge, and his ears darken with a richer tinge of red. “Um. No.” He laughs at the ridiculousness, looking at you with wide, blinking eyes. “I, uh, I definitely don’t – I think you – I mean—”

“Um, yes,” you say, clasping your hands together again. You rock a little on the balls of your feet. “Yes. I can see that, um, I think you’re not disgusted.”

“No,” it comes out on a breath. His eyes drop from your face down your body. You look so simple, but he looks at you like no one has ever been more beautiful. “No, I’m not disgusted. Why did you think that?”

“You, um, you make faces sometimes,” you say. It sounds so petty and silly to say out loud, but it’s time to get it all out there. “And you’ve been so distant, Felix. I thought that maybe, now that you’re a werewolf, you didn’t want anything more to do with me.”

His face scrunches up with bewilderment.

“Nothing – nothing to do with you?” he asks, voice breaking where it pitches up. It would usually make you laugh, but now is not the time as you stare back, all your insecurities and vulnerabilities on display. He does not laugh at them either, taking a small step towards you with a tender look on his face. “I could never feel that way,” he says. “You’re my whole world. I – I’ve told you that. You’re my – you’re my person.”

“Chan said you felt like a monster,” you say softly. “I wish you would have told me how you felt. I could have told you that you aren’t a monster, not at all. You’re my person too, you know.”

He exhales, shoulders deflating. He rubs the bridge of his nose, thinking of something to say. Eventually he shakes his head and drops his hand.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” he says. “You’ve been through so much. I couldn’t – I couldn’t ask you to take care of me too.”

“Felix,” you say, throat cloying with emotion. You take a step closer as well. “Felix, you’re not a burden. I wanted so badly to take care of you. I – I love you.”

The word love resonates like thunder. It pierces the air, leaves a ringing aftermath.

“You – you love me,” Felix says, like the words are incomprehensible. “As a – as a friend – or?” He tries to look disinterested but completely fails, staring at you with all that intensity again.

You combat the instinct to make yourself small, to hide your vulnerabilities, to retreat into denial and just smile prettily. You hold his gaze. When you smile, it is honest and affectionate.

“I love you, Felix,” you say. “As more than a friend. As everything.”

“Oh,” he says. His hand goes back into his hair, untucking it from behind his ear just to tuck it back again. His eyes dart everywhere like he is replaying the scene and scanning it for answers. He blinks at you. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” you say, with a small laugh.

“But you – you never wanted to see me again,” he says, then lifts his brows, expression all at once understanding. “Because you thought I didn’t want you. Oh my god. I’m such an idiot.”

“I’m not the brightest either,” you tease.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, closing the distance yet again with another step. He forgets the state of his clothes and lets go of his pants, too wrapped up in his words to notice the startled drop of your eyes. Not much is exposed, just the shape of his hips and a stubborn bulge, but it still leaves you sweating.

“Look,” he says. “I – I can’t just say I love you.” Before your heart can sink, he continues frantically, “Because it’s not enough. I do, I do love you. The werewolf gene activated for you. The doctors asked if I had been in any dangerous situations that might have triggered it and I said no. They – they said it sometimes activates in peril, when you feel the need to protect yourself. That’s what happened to me. Except it wasn’t because I wanted to protect myself. I wanted to protect you.”

“Me?” you say in a small voice, like you can hardly believe it.

“Yes,” he says, smiling, both hands moving as he talks. “I felt so helpless, watching the way you were hurting. I wanted to protect you. I never wanted to see you suffering again. I tried to be calm around you but pushing it down just made the feeling more desperate. My wolf, it’s like my heart. It’s just an animal, you know? And it only understands loyalty and love. And the first time I changed, I didn’t think like a person, no, but I thought of you all the same. They could barely keep me contained in that hospital. I just wanted to run to you. I wanted to protect you. I wanted to keep you safe. Staying away from you… it’s been killing me.”

“Me too,” you say, so filled to brim with emotion you think you might burst. “Oh, Felix, me too.”

A laugh spills out of him, more of a release than humour. You take another step towards each other, this time close enough to clasp hands between you.

“I wish you would have told me,” you say. “But it’s my fault too. I know I’m still recovering in some ways. I’m quick to think little of myself. But I shouldn’t put you in the role of the mean voices in my head. I’m sorry too. So, so sorry.”

“How could you think I’d ever be disgusted with you?” he asks in a low voice.

When he cups your cheek, a shiver moves down your spine. You straighten, leaning into his touch, looking at him with wanting eyes. He swallows hard, staring back.

“It was silly,” you say. “I even thought you were seeing someone else. That werewolf lady in your pack. I thought maybe you wanted a werewolf mate and I wouldn’t be enough.”

“That’s crazy,” he says. “You’re my everything.”

“And you’re mine,” you say.

You touch his arm, just the lightest caress of your fingertips. His skin is so hot it makes you gasp. Your cool fingers must be a balm because his eyes close and a little sigh parts his lips.

“Uh,” he breathes, eyes still closed. “Sorry for what you, uh, saw, coming in— I promise I don’t usually – ruts are just—”

You step a little closer. You can feel his breath on your cheek when he breathes in and out.

His hands drop to his sides as you lean in and kiss his neck. It is just a chaste touch but it makes his eyes fly open. He looks at you and you swear his eyes have never been so dark.

“You want me,” he says. When you nod, he releases another deep breath, a massive exhale of relief. “Ruts are… intense,” he says.

“Mm,” is your gentle reply. Your eyes run down his bare skin, fingers itching to touch. You meet his gaze. “But it’s you, right?”

Some romances depict ruts as an out of control haze. Though Felix is certainly more intense, it is your best friend’s familiar eyes locked on yours. You realize it actually makes him the vulnerable one, all his desires so blatant, his needs on the surface, unable to hide them for a second. You understand why he held back, especially while you were in recovery. There is so much of him.

But that is what you love. You can never have enough.

“Yes,” he says.

His deep voice is so rough that it makes you whimper. His hand jumps at the sound, settles on the back of your neck like it did yesterday. Anticipation tingles from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes, every inch of your body aware of him, desperate for him.

“Yes,” he says again, staring at your mouth. “Yes, it’s me.”

Your breath catches when he squeezes your nape. In the back of your mind, you recall all those little courtship rituals of werewolves, the instincts that manifest between them and their mate. A gentle squeeze of the nape is a request for your submission, for you to put your trust in his strength and his affection.

You do, utterly. You rest your hands on his waist, your cool palms against his hot skin, making his eyes flash with hunger.

“What are you waiting for?” you ask, his mouth so close, kissing a tantalizing promise.

He smiles that real smile, eyes crinkling sweetly, sunshine radiating with all that heat.

“I told you, ruts can be intense,” he says. “I’m waiting for your permission to let me have my way with you.”

“You have it,” you say. Your eyes drop to his chest and you run your hand from his collarbone all the way down to his abdomen, watching the muscles tense under the caress of your fingers.

You smile at him, swiping at his hot skin with your fingertips as you step back. He lets you go, hands dropping to his sides. He moves when you do, like his whole body is tethered to yours, magnetized to your core. Each step you take, he follows with a fixated prowl.

“Do whatever you want with me,” you say, peeling down a strap of your dress. “I’m yours.”

His steps gain speed, his smile brightening. In a matter of seconds, he is chasing you into his bedroom, laughing behind your trail of giggles as you scamper ahead of him.

He catches you around the waist inside the bedroom, pulling your backside into his front. The straps of your dress are both lowered and you hold it to your chest with your hand, heart pounding from excitement and the little chase.

You make a sweet sound when his nose swipes your neck. You tip your head, offering more skin. It is a good thing his grip is so strong, because you tremble when he exhales, breath caressing your skin. He gathers your dress in his hands, plucking the fabric out of your grip. He pushes it down your body and it puddles on the floor.

“Felix,” you say on a sigh when he kisses the back of your neck while working his fingers under your bra. You help remove it, dropping it onto the floor. You rock back against him when he touches you. He uses both hands to cup your breasts and squeeze.

“Can’t believe you thought I was disgusted,” he says. “Like I didn’t spend my whole last rut in here thinking about you.”

“Y-you did?” you ask, with a little whimper, because his open jeans are not doing much to shield him and you can feel how hard he is against you.

“Yes,” he says, a hand coming up to circle your throat, gripping it possessively as he puts his teeth in your neck. It makes you jump in his arms, body shaking.

He holds you tight against him, the denim of his pants rough through the thin fabric of your tights.

“I’m sorry for all that,” you rasp. “I must have made it so hard for you.”

“Mm,” he says, grinning against your neck. “You made it very hard.”

“Pfft.” You slap a hand over your mouth when laughing. “That was a terrible joke.”

“Mm. True though.”

You squeak when he nudges you forward, so close to the bed that you stumble right onto it. He climbs up behind you, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your back.

“At first, I was just sad,” he says.

He leans back to grab something off his bedside table. You admire the length of his body as he does, the low-slung jeans, the sheen of sweat across his chest, and his subtle, slender musculature.

You meet his gaze when he comes back. He is kneeling over you, a cocky grin on his face. He gathers his hair and ties it with the band he just grabbed.

“Then I really thought about it,” he says. “Mm, yeah, thought about hunting you down.” He straddles your thigh, his hands planting on either side of your head. “I’d find you and I’d remind where you belong.” He leans down, kissing along your jaw. “With me. Under me. Moaning my name. Forgetting about everything else.”

“Did you—” You start but gasp, his mouth on your throat, biting, sucking, licking. You arch your back, leaning into his mouth as he works his way down your body. “Did you… like with my shirt… when I saw you before…”

“What? Did I get off to your scent?” he asks. “Yes.” His hand follows his mouth, fingers curling into the band of your tights. “I told myself I shouldn’t. The last few ruts I managed. It wasn’t fun, mostly too hot, but I got by. But – you weren’t coming back, were you? You left so many pretty things here that made me think of you…”

He abruptly kneels upright. He uses both hands to grab the waistband of your tights.

“Found one of your cardigans,” he says. “Soft, like you. Put it on my pillow and fucked my hand like I wanted to fuck you.”

He rips your tights open with little effort, tearing right down to the thigh.

“Put it on my face,” he says. “Tasted it. Like I wanted to taste you.”

You moan for him, threading your fingers through his hair as he gets between your legs and opens his mouth on your pussy. He licks right through the material of your panties, like he doesn’t care at all, tormenting you with the obstruction until it is soaked through. You say his name over and over, your thighs already shaking just from warming up.

“Mmm.” He pushes himself up again, his mouth wet, tongue sweeping over his lips. He grabs your panties by the waistband and tugs them down.

By now, his jeans have slid down his hips. He is so hard, beading at the tip, as wet for you as you are for him. You watch as he uses your panties to quickly jerk his cock, gathering the wetness at the tip, then tossing them over his shoulder.

He falls back on top of you, face between your legs, licking you with nothing in his way.

“Wanted to find you,” he says between teasing kitten licks, looking up at you, smirking with the flick of his tongue. “Wanted to make you come so hard – mm, fuck you so good…” He slips two fingers inside you. Even though it has been some time, they move with no hindrance, your pussy so wet that he sinks right in.

“Yeah,” he says, momentarily going cross-eyed with his face so close to your pussy, watching his fingers move in and out of you. He grins when you clench around him. “Show you we were meant to be,” he says. “Just like this.” He licks you again, fingers moving so quickly that it sounds as obscenely wet as it feels. “Wolf or not. Knew you were mine. Was gonna make sure you know too.”

“Ohh,” you say, tugging at the blankets beneath you. “Who are you and what have you done with my sunshine Felix?”

He laughs, a low chuckle, the vibrations moving in your pussy.

“Mm, I’m right here, sweetheart,” he says. “Right… here…”

Then his mouth is occupied, little licks replaced with broad strokes of his tongue, then a repeating pattern that has you swelling and gushing on his tongue. You come so hard that it makes you dizzy, head thrown back as you squirt all over his thrusting fingers.

“That’s it,” he says, kissing your wet thighs.

While you are recovering, he grabs you and moves you. He arranges you neatly in the middle of the bed, making sure you are comfortable. Then he lets down his hair and removes his jeans.

“Felix,” you say, though it is generous to describe your voice as anything but a needy whimper.

He runs his hands up and down your trembling thighs, coaxing you open with murmurs of sweet nothings. You let him in, stringing your arms around his neck as he fits his hips between your legs and leans over you. You feel the head of his cock against your pussy, still throbbing with aftershocks. You are clenching around nothing, needing him, so ready you could scream.

You don’t scream, but sigh, like you are relieved when he gets inside you, like this is what you have been missing all along.

He takes his time despite the fever of his rut. Maybe because of it. His senses are so heightened, the pleasure felt so strongly. He groans, eyes closed, putting his face in your neck and breathing deeply as he slowly rocks into you.

“What were you thinking,” he murmurs, lips moving on your throat, “Trying to run away from me?”

“I’m – I’m sorry,” you say, interrupted with a hiccupping little uh-uh when he rolls his hips and you feel him deeper, harder, faster.

“You thought I wanted someone else?” he asks. “Impossible.”

Your eyes are closed, head thrown back. He grabs your chin and pulls your face to him, says, “Look at me. Right now.”

You do, blinking your eyes open. His thumb rubs your bottom lip and you open your mouth. You don’t even need to think, instantly accepting the intrusion of the digit, sucking on it while holding his gaze.

It would have terrified you a year ago, with anyone else, losing yourself to instinct like that, opening yourself up so willingly. With Felix, it feels right, it feels good.

“It’s you and me,” he says. “You understand that?”

You nod, humming affirmatively around his thumb. It rubs over your tongue, opens your mouth a little more. You want to close your eyes with every rolling thrust into you, but he tugs your face back to him when you try.

“You’re my mate,” he says. “Just you. It’s always – always been you.” He groans on the second always, picking up some speed, making you whine against his fingers.

He is so hot, clearly in the grips of his rut fever, but you cling to him, accepting everything he has to offer.

“Gonna be mine,” he says. “That’s right, yeah?” You nod frantically. “Yeah. Gonna put a ring on your finger. You’re gonna be so good to me, aren’t you? Gonna let me take care of you. Gonna be my mate. Gonna have my children. You and me. Home. Oh, yes, sweetheart, that’s it—”

You clench so tightly at the mention of children. It catches you off guard, your body’s visceral and immediate response, faster than your brain compute can why. You have told Felix you want children one day, in the future, back when you were just friends and it was an abstract thought. Thinking of a home with him, having his children, making a whole life together, being bound so completely …

“Fuck,” you say, his thumb sliding out of your mouth. He cups your face to keep it locked on him, your lips brushing each other.

“Look at me,” he whispers.

You do, though you are so close that you barely see him. It feels like he is everywhere, everything, around you and inside you. You melt when he kisses you, stealing your breath as he claims you so completely. You kiss back, messy and haphazard, all heat and wetness, but it feels good.

“C-can’t get pregnant,” you say with a pout, a bit delirious from getting fucked, letting the words roll thoughtlessly off your tongue. “B-birth control.”

“I know,” he says. He moves a little, gets up so he can hold your hips and pull you onto his cock with every thrust. “I’m stronger,” he says, just as deliriously, watching where his cock moves inside you. “Yeah. Gonna fill you up so much, it’ll happen anyway. It can’t stop me.”

He holds your hips, keeps you in place. He thrusts into you deeply and says, “You’re mine,” and thrusts again, “You’re mine,” and thrusts again, “You’re mine,” and comes inside you.

It is not quite like all the werewolf pornography, with exaggerated knots on preposterously sized cocks, but werewolf physiology is still a little different than human. That difference is exacerbated on a rut. You feel it as he comes, the way he swells and gets harder, just enough that you feel your fullest as he releases. Pushing at you walls, stretching you around him, making you his without question.

He doesn’t really soften after, the rut sustaining him, but the swelling goes down. Even then, not entirely, as you feel a sharper burn when he pulls out of you. The flicker of pain is oddly tantalizing, a biting sensation on top of so many others. It ripples through you, makes you moan.

Your whole body is twitching, eyes closed as you come back to yourself.

You look up at Felix. His eyes are between your legs, his hand running up your thigh. You feel his thumb spread your pussy open, feel his release spilling out of you. That is the other different element; with a werewolf, there is a lot more of everything.

Though you know your birth control will function regardless, when you feel all that inside you… for a moment, you believe he might be strong enough to overpower it.

It makes you giddy, pleasure moving through your body. He smiles at you, all sunshine and sweetness. Then he takes control of your hips and puts himself back inside you. The refractory period on a rut is virtually nonexistent on the peak day, which is usually the second day, which is today.

“You okay?” he asks, rocking into you slowly even though he fits so easily now, your body made to take him.

You nod, sliding your hands over his shoulders. You scratch across his back then up in his hair, making him grunt and close his eyes. He leans down and kisses you, continuing to fuck you until you are making all those sweet sounds again.

“Good?” he asks, kissing your jaw, your neck.

“Good,” you say.

“Not too much?” he checks.

“Mm, no,” you say. You give him a teasing smile. “Not enough actually.”

“Oh, really?” He laughs, eyes big with playful incredulity. “Should I growl and bite more?” He makes a playful snarl like the werewolves in all the erotica.

It makes you laugh. You can’t remember the last time you laughed while having sex, but it feels so good, just as good as all the hot, desperate stuff.

“Hmm, maybe not,” he says, laughing too. “Maybe all the making-a-bitch stuff is a bit much, hm?”

It seems you will learn more about yourself than him over this rut, because that also makes you clench involuntarily. He blinks with surprise, mouth in a soft ‘o’ as he looks down at you. He laughs just a little at the look on your face, a low chuckle as his grin widens.

You cover your mouth, blinking innocently up at him.

“Oh shit,” he says. “I see.”

You pout when he pulls out of you, but there is little time to feel bereft because he flips you over onto your front. Your face lands in the pillows, then he yanks you down the bed.

Oh, it feels filthy suddenly, because the new angle opens you up and you can feel come dripping out of you. It catches his eye too, because he puts his fingers there and stuffs it back inside you.

With little effort, he gets you back under him, pushes down your shoulders and lifts up your hips. You feel him at your entrance again, pushing the tip past the rim.

“Is that it?” he asks, dropping his voice so low yet sounding so sweet. “You want me to make you my bitch, baby?”

He slams home, holding your hips up while pounding into you with relentless measure. You grab a pillow to hold, yelping and whining into it as he fucks you with wild abandon.

For a few seconds, you succumb to that single-minded animalistic pursuit, and you really do believe he can put a baby in you. You start babbling the desire – begging for it, asking him to fill you up.

“Please, please, please,” you say, gasping.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he says, draping himself over your back, not stopping his hips for a second. “I got you. I’ll give you a baby. So good for me. Made to take it from me, yeah, baby?”

You know you are going to come again, his angle and precision too much to withstand. Sure enough, you are coming all over his cock in a matter of seconds, squeezing him into another orgasm too.

He kneels behind you, throws his head back while coming. Then he grinds inside you like he is trying to get it as deep as possible.

“Oh, Felix,” you say, whimpering when he pulls out, still hard, the burn less this time because you are so filthy wet that he slides so easily. You can feel his release gush out of you, his fingers chasing it, pushing back into you.

He rubs at you until you are rocking your hips and coming on his fingers. It is so much stimulation that your eyes water and your nose starts to sniffle.

He rolls you over and cups your face. You open your mouth instinctively, tilting your head to expose your neck. He looks at you like he can’t really believe you are exist and that you are here.

“Wow,” he says. The hand on your face slides so he can put his thumb back in your mouth, letting you suck on it like it is giving you life. He clenches his jaw, makes a rough sound, presses down on your needy tongue. “Next time,” he says, while starting to put his cock back into you, “Your mouth. And my mouth. You’re gonna sit on my face for hours. I’m gonna take care of you. Oh—”

He is halfway inside you when you reach up, putting your hands on his chest. He stops immediately, pulling out, taking back his hands, looking at you with a concerned tilt to his head.

“Will you lay on your back?” you ask, voice hoarse.

He blinks, like for a second he doesn’t understand words, but then he obeys. His hair is in absolute disarray, a veritable lion’s mane. He rakes it back, smooths it down as best he can. He never takes his eyes off you, watching as you sit up, as you climb on top of him, as you put him back inside you and set a slower pace.

“My turn,” you say, smiling. “I want to take care of you too.”

He smiles, putting his hands on your hips but not guiding them. He lets you take the lead, moving on top of him, finding all the ways to make him moan and close his eyes and twitch inside you.

You make him come twice that way. After the second time, he finally starts to soften enough that you can take a break.

You lay down beside him, squeaking with surprise when you press down on your belly and a little more come gushes out of you. You look at each other, his face the picture of total innocence despite his hand in it. You swat his chest, rolling onto your side and putting your head on his chest.

He laughs, putting his arm around you, stroking your back.

“You know I do mean it,” he says, looking down at you. “I want everything with you.”

“Me too,” you say. You kiss his chest, then his neck, under his jaw, making him sigh contently. “I love you, Felix. Everything about you, wolf and all.”

“I love you too,” he says, pressing you close, kissing your forehead.

There is a long moment of content silence. He strokes your back, up and down, lulling you to a dozy state. It is too early to sleep and, besides, the sheets need changing before that – even though you suspect they will just be dirtied again.

You are contemplating these sweet mundane nothings when he says, “You’re in the pack, you know. As my mate. That makes you one of us.”

“Does it?” you ask.

“Yes,” he says. “I’m telling you this, because you’re a packmate and Chan is leader, but you’re my mate, so you have to take my side and tell him to fuck off when he tries to say I told you so.”

You laugh, shaking your head and playfully rolling your eyes.

“Sounds good,” you say. “Hmm, I might go have a shower before… the next… round…”

You do not have to look down to know that he is hard already, his blinking gaze revealing all. You giggle together and kiss again.

“All right, fair enough,” you say, eyes closed, exposing your neck obediently when he cups your nape. You press against him, moaning softly when he scents your neck then sucks a bruising kiss there. “It can wait,” you say, smiling. “We’ve been waiting for this long enough.”

“Mm,” he says, already slipping back into his feverish need. He grabs you and pulls you back on top of him.

There is not much talking for a while, but there is some laughter and plenty of smiles, and for the first time in a long time, you are looking forward to everything that follows after.

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