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[salemwasnteverhere]

How Sylus fucks you when he overstimulates you

A/N: I couldn't resist turning a cold mean man into a slight softie for us :'). If you prefer colder/meaner Sylus then please ignore this post and block me! <3

Tags: Stylus x Reader, reader is not Mc, Fem!Reader, creampie, clit rubbing, praise, use of "sweetie", slight dumbification, sloppy kisses, overstim, slight belly bulge

It was rare for Sylus to be very gentle in bed. Not saying he was aggressive and manhandled you every time, but he wasn't exactly mother Theresa. He usually had a bruising grip on your hips while pounding into you, one hand making it's way to your face, forcing you to watch his face or watch as his cock slid into you.

But then there were the nights where you begged for more, your eyes teary and hips bucking up to antagonize him. He'd give you what you want, slamming his hips back into yours until you fell apart on his cock and your mind practically snapped. He'd be gentle if you asked any night, but it was when you couldn't ask that he did it unprompted.

"There we go, sweetie." He pulled your body against his chest, hand rubbing your back as his thrusts slowed down and he fucked his cum deeper in. He came three times already, his cum dripping down the base of his cock after it leaked from your cunt.

His right hand slid up your back and he rubbed your hair, kissing your head. "A-ah...Sylus..." You buried your face in his chest, legs wrapping around his waist. He groaned slightly when your nails weakly dug into his back, hitting the scratch marks you left the night prior.

"So needy.." he rolled his hips up into you, smirking at your gasp. His cock hit all the right spots like it was made for you. He sped up slightly, watching as your hips bounced up slightly.

You lean back slightly, putting a little space between your chests. "So hot..." Your voice came out as a small whine, your body slick with sweat. Sylus held onto your waist with one hand as the other slid down from your neck, cupping a breast.

Sylus leaned in and blew cold air onto your neck, making you shiver. He smirked and kissed your neck softly, licking the slick skin. His hips moved slightly faster, his skin slapping against yours.

"Fuck...oh God.." you cry out slightly as he pressed your back against the bed, his hand on your waist holding onto the headboard. "Damn it.." he huffed slightly when you squeezed around him, his eyebrows knitting down.

He bottomed out and went all the way to the hilt, his tip kissing your cervix. You cry out and turn your head to the side, clawing at a pillow. His balls slapped against your ass with each thrust, the sound mixed in with the already lewd noises of your moans and wet slapping.

You desperately slid your hand down to rub your neglected clit, which earned Sylus slapping your hand away. He pressed his thumb to your clit and rubbed it weakly, his gentle touch making you yearn for more.

"Sylus-"

"You can handle it."

He rubbed harder and your toes curled. Your head fell back and a silent scream left you as you came. Sylus groaned when you squirt on his cock, hips squirming like crazy. He grabbed your hips and forced you as close as possible when he came. His balls tightened and you felt his seed pump into you for the third time that night, making your stomach bulge ever so slightly.

A minute later he pulled out with a wet 'shulp', his cock limp and covered with cum and slick. Your eyes were barely open and your whole body trembled. Sylus picked you up and cradled you to his chest, walking over to the large couch in his room.

"You got the bed dirty. Not like I mind. But I need to fix it first." He sat you down on the couch and covered you up with his coat, smiling when you curled up under it. He kissed your head and put on a robe.

You fell asleep before he could even start.

--

Requests are open! :3

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. your older boyfriend, satoru, shows you just how much he adores you in his private office <3

tags. older bf!gojo satoru x virgin!female reader. age gap (reader early 20’s, satoru early 30’s). smut, pwp. fīngering. multiple ōrgàsms; overstimulation. mention of corruption kink. dry hūmping. nicknames ‘princess, baby, beautiful’. pls ignore any grammar errors xx

“heh, don’t look at me. look at yourself, princess,” satoru chuckles, easily noticing how your head is tilted in attempt to watch him as he gets you off. you’re sitting on his thighs with your legs spread, shamelessly allowing him to finger you in his office.

your shaky eyes dart down to your dripping cunt—clearly seeing how it’s got a mind of its own. it’s squeezing satoru’s long fingers as he moves them in the speed of light. your limbs are shaking by the amount of pleasure you’re receiving.

“the-the door,” you hiccup. you hadn’t locked the door behind you when you walked into satoru’s office. you definitely wouldn’t want any of his colleagues to walk in on you. though, that didn’t seem to worry your boyfriend. all he’s focusing on at the moment is your perfect pussy taking in his middle and ring finger.

satoru’s glossy lips are parted and covered in spit. he has to lick up the drool from the corner of his mouth so it wouldn’t dirty your opened blouse. he’s quite literally salivating at the sight and feeling of your warm cunt. . .

“the others ‘re busy, they won’t come in as long as you keep your pretty voice down,” satoru promises you in a smooth tone, blue eyes wide with fascination as he stares down at your pussy.

he’s always imagined what it’d be like to be inside of you. what it would feel like to hold you in his arms and make love to you without holding himself back— to show you a world you have yet to discover.

satoru wants to be the first one to do that, though he’ll wait until you’re ready. for now, he’s completely satisfied with just a taste of heaven.

“fuck, baby, she’s beautiful,” satoru praises your delicate pussy. your wet folds continue to make way for more of his fingers, spreading as he tries to enter a third digit into your poor, clingy hole. you whine as you feel satoru prepare you by rubbing your clit repeatedly with his thumb—trying to make you as wet for him as you possibly could be.

you shake your head, “can’t take more, ‘toru.” it genuinely feels like you’re being stretched out. three fingers are going to take you out. “nuh-uh,” satoru mocks you before telling you to look at him. the moment you do, his lips envelop yours in a lustful yet comforting kiss. you moan into his mouth and he does the same back, eyebrows furrowing because of how good it feels to suck on your tongue.

his fingers don’t stop. the third slides in and you jolt back against satoru’s chest. “shh, shh, i got you,” the older man attempts to calm you down. he stops fingering you for a second so you could adjust to the stretch. you’re tight—he can feel his erect cock twitching in his pants, begging to replace his fingers. he can’t, not yet.

satoru cusses under his breath once he feels your ass rub against the bulge in his uniform’s pants. you’re killing him and you don’t even realise it because you’re too focused on his fingers fucking your cunt. shlick shlick shlick — you’re dripping wet.

“i’m gonna cum,” you whisper through a soft gasp. it would be your third orgasm. you’re sensitive and your pussy feels like it’s on fire. your lower abdomen is tingling and aching. you’re going to inevitably squirt all over his chair, again.

satoru bites his lip as he hears you announce how close you are. his long fingers are already soaked with your juices, coating them with a sticky layer that he cannot wait to taste. “do it, baby. wanna see you cum,” your boyfriend coos.

satoru loves the way your hips circle back to him, rubbing against his groin. you’re driving him insane without even knowing it. he curls his fingers inside you, thumb still circling your clit for extra stimulation. you’re being driven to the edge of insanity.

he bucks his hips a little each time you involuntarily move in his lap. “toruuu, fnnh, so close,” you’re not only moaning because of the fingers inside of you, but also because of the hard bulge rubbing against and between your ass cheeks.

satoru knows your voice can easily carry over to the next room. you’re usually loud when you finish on his fingers. he takes his free hand and pushes your head back against his shoulder, his index and middle finger sliding into your mouth to silence you.

your whimpers are muffled as you automatically start sucking on his digits. satoru kisses your ear and jawline, whispering small words of praise against your skin because of your obedience. “keep it down for me, beautiful. y’re already doing so well.”

your eyes roll back as your saliva dribbles down his left hand. the wet trail runs down his veiny arm that’s exposed to your view. you love it when satoru pushes the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows—it reminds you of why everyone fawns over him. it’s hot.

you’re trying to hold out, not wanting to cum. you wish to stay like this, with satoru’s fingers deep in your cunt and mouth, his bulge grinding against the fat of your ass.

the white-haired man instantly notices this and chuckles to himself; you’re fighting a losing battle. he increases the pace, his wrist working over time so his fingers could reach those sweet spots in your velvety walls. he decides to rile you up some more;

“shiit, just imagine that ‘ts my cock stretching your pretty cunt out,” satoru grins against your ear. he knows you’re weak for dirty talk. you have never felt what it’s like to be stuffed full of a dick, and thus the imagination adds to the raunchiness of it all.

you shiver and let out a small moan escape your mouth before you continue to suck on satoru’s fingers. all this time you’ve settled for make out sessions, grinding and oral pleasure. you’re needy for more than that.

satoru knows what buttons to push. he knows how to make you melt and give in to him and his words. he bites your earlobe after letting his tongue lick the skin, “all filled up to the brim. you’d like that, huh?”

you barely managed to stifle a loud whine at that. your eyes widen and your pussy spasms around his fingers. you know it’s not long before you’re going to cream all over satoru’s hand.

sweat trickles down your forehead.

“yes, yes, yes!” you moan repeatedly, voice muffled by the fingers in your mouth. you can hear your boyfriend grunt into your ear after seeing how enthusiastically you’re responding. he’s totally getting off to you’re desperation.

satoru wants to cum so bad. he wants to shoot ropes of his cum in the pussy he’s prepping to one day take his dick.

you see black spots in your vision because of how hard the climax hits you. your breath hitches and you grip onto the armrests of the chair for support. a spray of clear and watery juices covers satoru’s entire hand and bits of his arm—evidence of just how much you enjoyed your little session with him.

the older man pats your tummy and rubs it, comforting you as the aftershocks of your climax hit. he pulls his fingers out of your messy cunt and brings them up to his glossy lips, thoroughly licking every drop off. his dick pulses in his pants at the delicious taste.

you’re panting as you try to get your thighs to stop shaking. you’re out of energy, drained. all that you hear replaying in your mind is satoru’s dirty talk. you don’t know if you can handle his dick if you’re already overwhelmed by the way he skilfully uses his fingers.

as if sensing your thoughts, your boyfriend smirks and hugs your body tightly to his chest.

“can’t give it t’ ya now,” satoru whispers and pouts, teasing you as if to turn you on again. he takes his wet fingers out of your mouth and presses his lips against yours as a promise, “but one day i will, yeah? one day i’ll fuck ya so good you’ll only know my name.”

[eumivrse]

FUCK ME LIKE YOU MAD AT ME BABY (I NEED A FREAK TO DRIVE ME CRAZY!)

rough/angry sex ft. gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso

warning(s) drunk sex + spanking (gojo), orgasm denial (geto), jealous sex + light bondage (nanami), car sex (toji), spitting + choking (choso), lowkey toxic, lots of degrading words, overstim, mention of safe word, breeding, creampie, squirting, cervix kissing, reader calls nanami ‘sir’ once, JUST A LOT OF SMUT IDK

note i’ve been equally horny for all of them lately ngl. also the title is so long but the song is stuck in my head ;0

tags @kurosaaki

GOJO

it takes a lot to piss satoru off. he lets things slide half due to his lack of ability to tell that people are mocking him and the other half because of his huge ego.

but there’s always that once in a blue moon moment when he comes home from work, mind already filled with irrational anger. and it just happens to be the same day you have your weekly night out with your girlfriends and are out until the ungodly hours of the night.

and of course that’s fine and all, but when he saw you stumbling into your doorstep tipsy at 3 in the morning, the word rational has been far blotted out of his dictionary. he’d already drank half a bottle of wine by himself at this point from drowning in his sorrows and satoru is the mere personification of a lightweight.

it wasn’t long until your face is buried against your leather couch, ass up as he pounded into you.

drool seeped out the corner of your mouth, babbling, “satoru-“ your moans were muffled, your head forced down on the couch by his huge hand while he slams his pelvis against your ass, cock sliding in with ease. he didn’t even talk to you— as soon as you were ready to give him a hug, he flipped you over the couch and pulled up the cute little skirt you decided to wear today, pulling your panties over one ass cheek to not bother himself with taking all your clothes off.

he struck your ass with his palm, then kneaded the plump to ail the pain. “gonna cum for me, princess? hm?” you nearly shrieked when he slapped you again, this time with more force inflicted. but you weren’t going to lie— having him treat you like this is more like a gift than it is a punishment.

“yes…” your voice shrunk, heavy breaths in sync with his thrusts. clawing onto nothing, you bit the inside of your cheek, suppressing your loud moans, still sober enough to realize that it’s late and your neighbors are fast asleep.

he pulled out almost completely, leaving you hollow until he pistoned into you by pulling your waist against him, the head of his cock nearly prodding onto your cervix. “fuck… i love your slutty pussy, milking so— fuck— so well...” satoru’s inability to shut the fuck up even when he’s this close to cumming is something that continues to amaze you.

starting painfully slow, his impatience eventually took over him and continued to fuck into you with deep, yet quick thrusts that happened to hit your spot, fluid spurting out of your hole and onto his abdomen. you gasp, legs trembling while satoru’s hips stuttered, cock twitching inside of you.

“yeah, yeah, yeah— ah god…” warm cum filled you full, some leaking out and dribbling down on the couch. he gave your ass one more struck, and you yelp from the prickling pain.

“satoru?” you mumble, turning your head slightly until he started moving his hips again, leaving you speechless.

he yanks you by the elbow, pinning your back against his chest, whispering against the shell of your ear, “not done yet, doll.”

GETO

“suguru, please…” you plead, eyes glossed with tears. you’re sitting on top of his lap, cock stretching your walls as his thumb brushed over your clit with lazy circles.

he just hummed, ignoring your pleas as he grabs the pudge of your hips, lifting them up and thrusting up into you, his balls slapping in between your ass cheeks.

you’ve been giving him the cold shoulder all week, all because of you started a petty argument about schedule differences. you knew he was busy, but his lack of communication was what pissed you off. on the other hand, he thought you were being unfair— he never complained when you had to work more hours than normal.

so if his words weren’t enough to get that in your head, then maybe he’ll just fuck it into you.

you rest your chin on his shoulder, hands draped around him as he kept a tight grip on your waist, switching between forcing you down on his cock and ramming into you himself by dragging his hips up and down. he gnaws on your shoulder, engraving your skin with his teeth marks.

“i wonder where you learned how to speak to me like that, love…” he breathes softly. his voice still has that tinge of tenderness in it, but you knew he was at his limit from the way he has that bruising grasp on you.

referring to the demeaning words you called him during your little quarrel the other day, he continues, “would you like it too if i talked to you like that?” when you didn’t respond, he wrapped his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you into making eye contact with him.

“answer.” his firm remark only turned you on, whining with a frail, “yes please.” at this point you weren’t even angry anymore— you were so needy and frustrated from the denial of release.

he chuckles, a smug smirk plastered across his face, single strands of his raven hair stuck on his forehead. “you really wanna know what i think about you?” he shifts his hips ever so slightly, knowing damn well it pushes you further into orgasm.

sighing, he cupped your cheek with his palm. “whore.” he tapped your cheek with force, not enough that it was painful, but it was degrading with no question. “slut.” he slaps your face again and grabs your cheeks, your lips puckering from the pressure.

he jerks up again, feeling him stretch you so deliciously that you couldn’t bare to hold it anymore, and suguru can tell. he clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth, “cock hungry filthy girl,” he forces your face down to see with your own two eyes how fucking wet your pussy is for him despite swearing you hated him just hours ago.

letting go of your flustered face, you slurred, “please let me cum, suguru…” asking him in the first place was your first mistake, he only pressed his thumb onto your clit once more, taunting you.

he smiles, feigning innocence. “no.”

NANAMI

kento is a patient man. he considers himself grounded with his emotions, but something in the air today made him act more crass than he usually would in this situation.

long story short, you were being a little too friendly with gojo during the work dinner where everyone else could see, and it didn’t help that you were defending yourself instead of owning up to it when he brought it up on the way home.

it was embarassing for him— made him seem like a little bitch that some other man had his arm around you, whispering jokes against your ear while you giggled foolishly as if your husband wasn’t sitting across from you.

so you should’ve seen it coming that he wouldn’t just leave you off the hook when you got home.

it wasn’t long until your clothes are scattered all over the master’s bedroom, legs pinned against your chest as he pummeled into you, wet cunt clenching around him like you wanted this to happen.

the sheets were stained with puddles and splatters of your sweet release, his thighs and your pussy coated with a mix of his cum and your slick.

one, two, three, four orgasms? you couldn’t even count anymore. your cunt was drooling, stuffed full with his cum, it was impressive how he’s still drilling into you with such ease.

kento is pushing on the back of your thighs to keep your pussy wide open, your wrists bounded with his leopard tie that coiled around the headboard railing. “hah-“ he grunts, “dirty girl. you have no idea how much i wanted to fucking kill that idiot for even touching you.” he grits his teeth when he felt your walls squeeze onto him, his sweat dripping from his forehead down to your tummy.

your mind was so blank, every degrading word he’s saying seemed stifled, apparent by your eyes knocking to the back of your head and the drool trickling down the corner of your lip. the only thing leaving your mouth were moans of his name and curses, you were starting to see stars as the pit of your abdomen tightened, a sign that you’re close.

“kento— i- hahhh—” your attempt on a warning had no purpose as clear liquid gushed out of you, and the shock of your release rippled throughout your body, leaving you numb. kento only fucked into you deeper and rougher, his fat veiny cock pressing against your cervix.

“squirted again?” he’s laughing, followed by a groan when he felt that familiar twitch on his cock. “do you think gojo can make you squirt for him like this, hm?” that question was just plain vulgar, but he’s expecting an answer nonetheless.

you hold onto the silk restraining you, sniffling, “no… only you, sir.” your loving, tired tone only put him in the state of euphoria, closing his eyes shut as cum coated your cervix, keeping himself plugged into you.

as he pulled out, thick ropes of white, viscous fluid leaked out your hole and down your ass, taking a dollop to shove it in your mouth. you willingly take his fingers in between your lips, licking him clean.

you thought he was done this time— until he brought the fingers that were in your mouth down to your lower extremities, caressing your clit as he slid himself inside you once more. you sigh, “kento— i don’t think i can anymore…” every muscle in your body felt sore, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to say that word to indicate you want this done and over.

he pretended he didn’t hear your pleas, rasping as he pried your legs further apart, resisting your reflex to close them, “remember this when you decide to fucking flirt with another man again, slut.”

TOJI

this has to have been the third or fourth breakup in a span of 2 years dating this man. it just proved that you weren’t compatible for each other and the differing types of communication you two were comfortable with were clashing in the worst ways possible.

you were over it and decided to end it officially— for good.

however, toji wasn’t ready to let you go that easily.

his familiar black sedan was parked on the curb in front of your house when your first date after being finally single dropped you off. and of course, trying to stand your ground, you tried to tell him that you were done. to leave you alone or you’ll call the authorities.

but as they say, old habits die hard.

somehow you both ended up in his back seat, bouncing on his cock like you weren’t just trying to kick him out your driveway.

how else would have this toxic relationship lasted this long anyways if it wasn’t for the sex?

he chuckles, your nipple squeezed in between his lips, “what were you trying to say again? you’ll get a restraining order?” you were holding onto the handle of the car door for leverage as he groped your tit and smacked it, fascinated at the way it jiggled.

you hiss at the sting, “stop talking.” your collarbones were still littered with his love marks from previous nights and he notices them, “did your date even get a kiss tonight?” he teases as he took a chunk of your ass, manipulating your hips to move swifter in speed.

it was difficult to talk when he keeps slamming you down to the base of his cock, the sound of your slick smacking on his pelvis. “god— what is it— to you?” the incoherence with your words only provoked a laugh out of your ex, he thought it was funny how desperate you were trying to move on when it’s obvious you’d always go back to him at the end of the day.

you bite your lower lip, worried that someone outside could hear, but would that really help when the way his car is shaking gives it away?

he sneers, pulling your shoulder to draw you against his chest, face so close to his that you can feel his breath. with one last thrust, you yelped, keeping the head of his cock nestled deep in your cunt. “it’s just sad, babe.” he pouts, “you didn’t even bother to invite that bastard inside your house and instead would rather fuck your ex? was the date that bad?”

your mind was hazed, nodding before reaching in for a longing kiss, toji smirking against your lips. the date wasn’t bad at all but it was kind of a dud too— it just didn’t hit the same. nothing can compare to this.

he struck your ass once before gripping onto it again, moving your hips in accordance to his thrusts, tears welling up in your eyes as his cock jabbed against your sweet spot over and over. pulling away from the kiss, you chant his name like a mantra, “toji, fuck, mm- m’ gonna cum”

toji grunts, “okay, love. make a mess on my cock.” the familiar rasp in his voice was what set you off, and he was waiting for you to recuperate a bit from your orgasm before pulling your hips down once more, cock balls deep as he emptied himself inside of you.

toji curses and moans your name as you lean down for another wet kiss, feeling his cum pool in the pit of your stomach.

parting, he breathes, “still thinking of getting that restraining order?”

CHOSO

choso already wasn’t having a good day for some odd reason. maybe the weather? didn’t matter either way. and of course, being the sweet girlfriend that you are, you tried your best to distract him from whatever was bothering him.

when warm food didn’t work, you tried turning on the tv, seeking for some sort of entertainment. well— you could say it worked in his favor, not because of what was on the screen, but because the boring ass movie was what brought you to the present.

your panties were peeled to the side as choso freely slid his long cock in and out of your hole with ease, his sweats just hanging below his waist, moaning at how warm you are around him. “oh yeah- mm- feels good,” he reveres, whimpering as he hovered over your face.

choso almost never initiates sex— you usually do, but oh does it feel ten times better when he’s pent up and uses you as an outlet to take his stress out on.

your facial expression was scrunched, pursing your lips from how deliciously you were being split in half. choso had one of your legs over his shoulder and him leaning down, which pushed your leg closer to your chest— allowed his cock to plunge into you in angles unimaginable, leaving your jaw hung open.

choso’s mauve eyes were piercing onto yours as he collects saliva in his mouth, then sticks his tongue out, the globe of his spit making it straight down your mouth. he forces your mouth close, “swallow, pretty.” watching you as his saliva made its way down your throat.

you caress his cheek, ���use me, choso.” if this is what gets him out of whatever negativity he’s feeling then you’re willing to let him take it out on you.

pecking him on the small of his cheek, he sits up, finding leverage by grabbing onto your tits, groping on them while he thrusts into you with more impact, apparent by the sinful slapping noises that followed. you tuck your chin in to get a closer look of how he’s stretching you, watching as his spit lands on your clit, using two of his fingers to rub it in, reveling at the way its so puffy and just… so wet.

his other hand skimmed from your tit to around your neck, the pads of his fingers pressing on the side, making sure he doesn’t restrict your airways completely. he’s so fucking turned on by the way your face looks, eyes half lidded, lips swole and tinted from biting onto them so much.

you whine, voice faint from the hand around your throat. “so deep…” your leg was still over his shoulder, his cock hammering into you and right up against your g-spot.

“fuck, that’s it— take me in just like that, fuck—“ he was nearing his release, holding it in so you could go first, rushing through your orgasm by swiping your clit as he slacked his hips to give himself time. always so sweet even when handling you like this.

you were so cock drunk that your vision went stark, a huge weight lifting off your body when you let it all out, your slippery cunt making it easier for choso to go ahead and lodge his cock deep enough to jam his cum in, with the intent of not leaving a drop wasted.

he keeps himself wedged inside you, letting go of your leg and neck, tapping at your clit with his fingers for one last tease. you stuck your tongue out, choso grabbing your tear stained face.

“did that feel good, baby?” he asks and you nod sheepishly, unable to speak from his hold and your aching throat.

another ball of spit landed on your tongue and you swallow with that vulnerable look on your face. he chuckles, “what a nasty girl.”

[isaisliterallyhim]

hey can you please write about reader giving nagi a handjob while he's playing but as revenge because he's been ignoring reader for his games so reader doesn't let him cum unless he wins the round but he can't focus on the game because of the pleasure he's feeling!! hoping for a kinda subby nagi if that's alright <3

YES YES OMG ANON BBY I SEE IT AHJWJSAJ delicious plot hehe!

"i'm about to show you, baby slow down!"

ft. nagi seishiro . ooc! nagi ? . somewhat sub! nagi heh . aged up! characters . established-relationships . fem! reader . nsfw . smut . handjobs . cockwarming in the end ? . nagi's kinda a dick rn . use of mommy ig... . unreliable narrator.. :^

wc: 0.5k

cw: this might be dub-con idk tho

"my girlfriend's always harassing me whenever i'm tryna play a game.. what a hassle," nagi started off. his friends giggled on vc. "she's a nice person, you'll get used to it."

a few rounds of horror games, nagi was carrying hard. (heh hard like him :x) horror games were yea, a hassle. but, not a hassle to him. unlike his friends, nagi didn't really scream. shit, he was so lazy he didn't even wanna be fazed.

this round in particular though... "g-good god..." the man whined, spasming a little. "you good, nagi?" bachira asked. "is the horror finally getting to you?" your softer, smaller hands pumping at his cock :p

it started off slow, nagi didn't really notice at first. slow and steady wins the race right? but after a few more minutes of getting ignored, you fastened the pace.

you locked eyes with nagi. your lips curling into a smirk. "sei, what're your friends g'na think when they realize that when you're receiving a handjob with little to no lubrication at all?" you began. "your cock was leaking so much pre — it was like you wanted me to do this!" you continued to yap, face now no longer in a cocky demeanor but, in a pouty expression now.

"[n-name]," the grey eyed man moaned out. your expression, your hands... the stimulation was getting to him. "w-wait guys- oooh..." nagi tried to get out, his voice now strained. "nagi, you weren't even screaming are you good?" isagi asked. screaming? nah this guy was CREAMING.

"y-yep, i'm good," he stuttered out. "i jus' need a few minutes off real qui.." his voice trailed off as he muted himself. his hand released the mouse as his calloused fingers wrapped around your hand. nagi began thrusting into your hand.

his shaft was absolutely tearing up, just like the man. tears leaked from his eyes while there was a bit of semen leaking out of his tip LOL.

"[name], s-slow down.. [name], i-i.." he couldn't even get the words out as he scrunched his eye shut. "sei, yknow you dont deserve this at all.. all you've done was ignore me n shit this whole week..." you frowned. nagi knew he was coming close, hell he WAS going to come.

"i'm sorry mommy, i didn' mean t'- god! please, i'm sorry!" he apologized. the stimulation actually got to nagi as he came. his precious n delicious come leaked out as he let out the most gorgeous moan you've ever heard during the whole time you two were together.

your eyes kinda widened. nagi had this flushed, fucked out expression. he was panting like crazy. "[name], i'm so sorry.." he sobbed.

"what happened to emotions being a hassle, seishiro?" you teased. his sweatpants n boxers were to his knees LOL. nagi slid down your shorts n panties. "please let me feel your warm cunt, ma'am.. please use me f' your pleasure, pretty.." nagi mumbled. most genuine mumble omd...

"my bad guys, i'm back." nagi grunted after unmuting. nagi had a little bit of struggle seeing the PC screen with his gorgeous partner's warm n tight walls clenching against his shaft. let's just say, nagi wasn't the best player after LOL.

— ©isaisliterallyhim, 2025

tags! : @twijaxx ♡, @kyvkc

a/n : errr... idk man i came back from training w my corps i j wrote this and threw it .. kinda late night post so uhwhhdaj sorry for the unreadabler englush i tried ok ygs i j went thru a breakup pls give me credit for trying. nyways, nagi ohf wakkk hes so hot omg.. i need that 190 cm man in me omgmgmjddkkwjd anyhow i hope ygs enjoyed hehe

[nebulaeternal]

「 ✦ Play by Play - Pt.2 ✦ 」

―୨୧⋆ ˚GENRE/WARNING: f!xm, porn w/little plot, guided masturbation, edging, teasing, evol use, size kink, overstimulation, implied marathon sex, spitting in mouth, praise kink, dirty talk, pussy play, vulgar Caleb, absolute brainrot.

―୨୧⋆ ˚SUMMARY: Caleb has you sprawled out below him, voice low and teasing in your ear as the tension builds even further. Find out what happens when it finally snaps.

―୨୧⋆ ˚WORD COUNT: 2.4K

―୨୧⋆ ˚A/N: Sorry y'all but I'm going to have to continue with ANOTHER part. There's just so much and it's a lot easier to write the whole story in multiple parts. I hope you enjoy this one tho, let me now what you think! If you wanna sign up to be tagged, the link is right below :3

―୨୧⋆ ˚LINKS: AO3 Ver. , Twitter, Taglist Sign-up

―୨୧⋆ ˚TAGLIST: @noone-png, @kicupo, @rafayelsplush, @imissnanami, @zanasoledad, @m00njinnie, @rafayelschewtoy

“You love being called princess, don’t you? Princess.”

A whine escaped your lips, desperation growing with each passing second. “Don’t tease me..” you trailed off. Caleb smirked into your neck, nipping at it, causing you to let out a suppressed moan. He rose to meet your eyes, face close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin.

You were unsure whether to look away or match his intensity. His gaze on you was hot, it seared your skin like the sun. You had completely forgotten what position you were in till you felt his hard-on pressed right against your core.

It was difficult to ignore, and quite frankly not something you wanted to do anyway. His hands trailed from your thighs to your waist, thumbs resting right below your stomach and he pressed down firmly. Sparks shot to your core as you let out a moan and arched your back.

“There you go. That’s what I like to hear.” He growled lowly. Writhing in his hold, your desperation was now tangible, and you wanted him inside you, badly. One of your legs was hung on his shoulder, his lips meeting the flesh of your calf in a tender kiss.

“Caleb, please I can’t wait any longer.” You ground against his bulge, a sharp grunt came from the man at the unexpected gesture. Involuntary, his hips bucked into yours, both of you sighing in symphony.

He doesn’t know what took over him but he began to roll his hips against yours, slowly. With a satisfied sigh, you threw your head back, feeling the clothed tip flick against your clit when his crotch slid against yours perfectly.

“Hng—Baby..” he couldn’t stop himself, despite needing to be inside you. The feeling of your bare cunt against his restrained cock nearly drove him mad as his hips continued the motion.

“Oh god. Yes~” Your sighs were music to his ears, the energy fueling him to keep going. The rigid fabric created the perfect friction you craved. Clutching the sheets, your hips moved against his own.

The room was hot. A symphony of your moans, his grunts, and fabric shuffling filled the air. You felt that familiar coil in the pit of your stomach as your moans increased in pitch. “I’m-Caleb..” 

He could tell you were close, and like the sick bastard he was he stopped. Your head whipped up, annoyance and desperation written on your face clear as day. He watched your reaction and chuckled, his grip on your hips loosening slightly.

“Caleb, what the fuck?” You let out an exasperated grumble. He only continued to laugh, mocking you “I’ve been trying to get off all day, why would you do that?!” Your exclamation only made his laughter increase, in turn making you more upset as your face burned hot. Not entirely registering what he was doing, you continued your ramble as he placed the most gentle of kisses along your leg, up your thigh, and finally your mound. A gasp slipped from your lips.

Before you could say another word, Caleb’s tongue flicked out, tasting you. A moan was drawn from your mouth, hands grasping his hair desperately as the warm muscle invaded your walls.

“Mmph! Hah..” the desperation and satisfaction in your whines and whimpers spurred Caleb on, his tongue aggressively assaulted your clit. His lips suctioned around you, causing you to buck and arch.

“Caleb!” He caught you by surprise, sucking and flicking the sensitive bud as you wriggled in his hold. It was almost too much, unsure whether you wanted him to stop or keep going. “Haaa fuck—“ 

Your wanton moans fill the air, the slurping and sucking accompanying Caleb’s mouth, all making your head spin. 

The grip on his hair got tighter as you shoved him further into your dripping cunt. “Caleb please~” you begged him. You were so close, not wanting to be denied, you begged him hard. The word “please” fell from your lips like a mantra, feeling that coil in your stomach ready to become undone.

He pulled away with a pop. “Wanna cum, princess?” His words reverberated against your sensitive flesh. You bit your lip, nodding eagerly as his tongue laved over your bundle of nerves. 

“Yes—please, please let me cum.” You sobbed, eyes pricking with tears once more, threatening to spill. “Please~” you whined, attempting to shove his head closer to your core if that was even possible.

Your walls began to convulse as your hips bucked wilder. Caleb held you down firmly and worked you thoroughly, finally letting you hit your climax. His name spilled from your lips while he helped you ride it out.

Even after you had finished, you still felt his tongue drawing lazy circles on your cunt, scrounging for remnants of your release to savor with his tongue. “S-Stop it’s too mu-mmph!” his lips wrapped firmly around you. Giving one final suck before pulling away.

He looked up at you like a hungry animal, pupils were blown out, staring at you almost like he was ready to dive back in, but he stopped himself, for you of course. Rising back up, you could see your slick glistening on his nose, chin, and lips. 

“Fuck...” You exhaled, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Without skipping a beat, Caleb captured your lips in his own, teeth and tongue clashing in a passionate kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, only making your body grow hotter. You both pulled away, panting with flushed faces as you stared into each other’s eyes. “You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to do that..” He murmured onto your lips while his fingers wrapped gently around your thigh, pulling you flush against his crotch once more. Involuntarily you bucked into it, earning a groan from him. He truly was trying to do the gentlemanly thing and not fuck your brains out but you were making it so hard for him to resist that temptation. His hips rocked against yours, clothed bulge pressed against your cunt, staining the thin fabric concealing his raging boner, preventing you from feeling him fully.

Once more, you both found yourself grinding against each other like animals in heat, almost scared to rid of the barrier between you both.

Another climax was already en route, still very sensitive from the previous orgasm. “Almost-“ Then he stopped. Again. 

“Caleb, I swear to fucking—I will walk away right now if you do this again. Fuck yo—“The tip of his cock was pressed right against your clit. A gasp slipped from your lips.

He was big. Could it even fit inside you?? 

“I’m trying, princess.” You hadn’t realized it but while you were busy pouting and fussing, Caleb slipped himself from his boxers, a stupid grin plastered on his face because he couldn’t believe he could have you, finally.

“It’s so big—“ he smirked, feeling proud. “I don’t think it’ll fit.” You said exasperated. You could see the smirk on his face droop slightly, faint worry laced in his expression.

The last thing he would ever wanna do is hurt you.

“Do you really want this..? Want me?” He sounded almost pathetic with how he was whispering against your lips, the question carrying a pleading undertone. His breath was warm and fanned against your skin. The tip of his cock pushing insistently against your clit while he waited for your answer.

You felt a little less nervous about the sheer size of his cock. You grabbed the sides of his face, pulling him in for another kiss. “If I didn’t-“ kiss “I wouldn’t-“ kiss “be here. Now stop talking so much and put yourself to use.” 

That was all he needed to hear. If there was one thing Caleb loved to do it was tease, which I’m sure you’ve picked up on by now. He rubbed his length up and down your quivering slit, studying your reactions intently as his lips quirked up slightly.

He loved seeing the way your mouth fell open, bliss completely enveloping your body and senses. “Caleb, please, you’ve teased enough.”

“Beg.” You couldn’t believe your ears. He could not be serious. 

“You’re joking..” to which he tilted his head at you silently. You let out a whine nearly crying with his prolonged silence only caving because you desperately need him inside you. Setting aside what little pride you had left, a string of pathetic pleas left your mouth.

“Pleasepleaseplease, I nee—hng~” he slid the tip of his cock into you slowly. Watching you closely for any signs of discomfort. You were squeezing him like a vice, it nearly choked the air out of his lungs.

“Nnggh..Baby..relax—you’re so tight..” your toes were curling, his cock felt like it was splitting you open. Your nails dug crescent shapes into his skin as he sunk into your walls slowly while you bit your lip to brace yourself.

“Too big—“ you choked out, thumb frantically tapping his arm, to which he stopped his advances. Caleb was about halfway in, straining and doing his best not to fuck up into you.

He brought his lips to your forehead, planting a gentle kiss as he stroked your skin. “I’m sorry baby, it’ll be over soon.” The sensation of his lips fluttering along your face helped you soon forget about the numbing sensation on your lower half.

Testing your comfort, you gave him a squeeze, his hips twitched in restraint as he threw his head forward, hair tickling your nose. Nothing but groans and heavy, shaky breaths left his body, arms braced at the sides of your head.

“Ok..you can continue.” You murmured. Caleb continued slowly pushing his way inside you, fighting against your tight walls before finally bottoming out.

You felt full. You nearly couldn’t breathe. You could feel him twitch inside you, sweat pricking his skin as you both adjusted to the position. After some moments of exchanged groans and sighs, slowly but carefully, he pulled out.

“Oh my god…” you gasped, thinking it couldn’t get any more intense till he slid back inside. “Oh fuck—Caleb…” he let out a sigh of satisfaction, feeling your walls hug his cock with each thrust of his hips.

He continued this slow pace, lips finding yours as he swallowed up every sound that spilled from your mouth.  His fingers slid along your palm and tangled in yours. 

Caleb loved you. He wanted to cherish this moment before his last shred of sanity was squeezed away by your tight walls. So he made love to you. It was a slow, sensual tango of bodies, the steady rhythm of his hips forcing cries from your lips.

His eyes bore into yours, feeling yourself get consumed by him. “You’re so beautiful princess..” he whispered above your lips, eyes full of affection and adoration. 

You could only sigh in response, eyes screwing shut and head thrown back as he found a particular spot inside you. With your throat now exposed, Caleb planted kisses along the column of your neck while his hips moved in tangent.

“Caleb~” Something in him snapped with the way you moaned his name. He’s shown his tender side, now you were in for so much more. He gripped your thighs, hooking them over his shoulder, he stared at your wandering eyes, drinking in the sight of the last few seconds of serenity that would cross your face while he was inside you.

His hips snapped forward, slamming himself deep inside you. The action caught you very off guard as it choked a moan from you. Giving you absolutely no time to speak, he pulled out almost entirely before slamming his hips back, knocking the wind from your lungs.

Your attempts to call out his name were drowned out by the sound of your own moans. The intensity and vigor with which he fucked you was beyond anything you could imagine.

He was practically splitting you open as he bullied his way into your cunt, tip kissing your cervix while you babbled. He gathered your wrists in one hand, raising them above your head before pinning them there with his evol.

You were trapped. His hands slid along your body before reaching your breasts. With his rough padded fingers, he grasped a nipple between his fingers, pinching and rolling it like a toy.

A yelp escaped your lips, the sensation of it all making your head spin. He continued to play with your nipples, making sure to give both equal attention while he stuffed you full of his cock.

Hooking his hands under your knees, he pressed your legs against your chest, folding you nearly in half “HNGG! CA-“ he pulled out, driving deep into you once more, the sound of skin slapping skin was prominent with each thrust.

Your eyes rolled back, feeling how deep he was hitting. Tears pricked your eyes, the sensation causing that knot to form in the pit of your stomach. Spit trickled from the corner of your mouth, moans spilling endlessly while he drove his cock into you. Any sense of coherence left in your body was gone. He watched your mind go blank while you attempted to beg him. The only thing on your mind was his name and his cock. “Open.” his words didn’t register in your mind. Gripping your face firmly, he tilted your head till you looked him in the eyes. You were such a beautiful mess for him. Eyes glimmering, face flushed, lips swollen and caught between your teeth. “H-Huh..?” “Open.” His thumb forced its way past your lips, hooking on your teeth and prying your mouth open. He spit in your mouth. “Now swallow.” You did as you were told and swallowed what he gave you, sticking your tongue out to show him. “Good fucking girl.” his hips slammed harshly against yours. You were such a dirty broken mess for him and he loved it. Feeling your climax draw closer, you could feel yourself nearly forcing yourself away from him. But he only drew you closer, pushing your legs impossibly closer to your chest. “Take it.” The look in his eyes was almost sinister, dog tag hitting his skin aggressively with each thrust. You felt yourself unraveling, the coil in your stomach snapping as you came hard. “There you go~” He cooed watching you break beneath him. “Mmmgh..” you were no longer capable of using words. His pace didn’t let up as you shattered, fucking you through your orgasm. That creamy white ring formed around the base of his cock while he fucked you. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

「 ✦ Part 3. Coming Soon! ✦ 」

[clitorphosis]

SHE IS MY COLLAR

Caitlyn Kiramman/female reader | 18+ MDNI. smut, female reader, lesbians, oral sex(cunnilingus), fingering, teasing, dirty talk, kissing and just being in love

notes: NOT PROOFREAD AT ALL 😭ignore mistakes and typos 💔 I fear this is 100% self indulgent quick and short fic cause I NEED HER THIGHS ON MY SHOULDERS. Feedback(asks, reblogs etc) is really appreciated. :3

Tags: @lottiies

Caitlyn’s parted legs are secured on your shoulders, holding them tight, with your hands in a vice like grip. Your fingers dip into the soft flesh of her thighs, leaving light reddened signs on the fat of them. Among many things, those thighs made you dizzy - filling with images of them at the sides of your head. This night is yours so no way you are going to let her away - back into her duties leaving you longing for something more than this little escapade.

Your lips slowly kiss the soft and tender skin of her inner thighs, leaving light bite marks, not daring to flick your gaze away from her blue eyes - full of burning desire and the yearn to feel your lips on her aroused pussy. Caitlyn prefers forward approach most of them time, also depending on her mood and yearnings, but you cracked that game easily, your taste doesn’t change, staying the same - teasing is the only way to enjoy her and prolong this. Her furrowed eyebrows and nibbled lip didn’t go unnoticed by you. She is shameless as you, her blue eyes keep the eye contact with you, adding more intimacy to this moment. Every little touches are visibly affecting her - even if she doesn’t voice it, her eyes tell you everything. No hint of shyness and if she is, then Caitlyn is not only a good sniper, but also an actor.

“Miss bluebelly isn’t so collected tonight?” You whisper, giving another soft bite on the inside of her thigh. Watching for any subtle flinches on her features, your two fingers softly slide lower to her pussy, interrupting Caitlyn. “You are so hot, I can’t wait to feel you… No, to taste you again”

“Don’t—Ah!” Call me that. The name gets under her skin. A gentle pressure of her clit and the only sound coming from her is a sweet moan. Keeping the gentle pressure, your digits focused on her sensitive nub leading to wet noises seeping into the air of your space. You can feel her reaction under the fingertips of your other hand, holding one of her thigh - every pleasant sensation, every teasing word lead to twitches and trembling in her muscles. Her lips are parted, focused on the pleasure, blue gaze darts away, seemingly trying to recollect herself.

“What? Is something wrong?” You keep the game on, your two fingers keep stroking her nub in clockwise motion, before shifting the attention of your fingers to her soaked hole. It would be unfair to ignore it, right? “Voice your complain up, pretty officer”

Caitlyn’s teeth sink into her lower lip as brows furrowed. Not for too long. You nudge her hole teasingly, before your two digits slip inside, making her walls clench at the added pleasure, they grip tighter after curling your fingers, tips press on the sweet, pudgy spot. Maybe out of habit. Caitlyn always joked about your fingers being long and perfect for violin or piano, but your talent ends on her pussy. Nor you want something else to play on.

“I hope this will get me cuffed” You purr, watching her hips buck with arching back at the applied soft pressure on the sensitive spot, before you finally delve into the itch to press your lips on her soaked pussy. Your tongue parts the lips, finally the sweetness of her slick on your tongue makes your eye roll, gliding across the folds of her aroused slit. Never disappoints. Your fingers keep the pace, steady pumping in and out bringing out more wet noises in the air, to make this even better, accompanied with Caitlyn’s moans. Like a music to your ears, like a sight that belong to a painting - her body is warm and relaxed, completely trusting to you. Her thighs on your shoulders, pressing at the both sides of your temples. And you are the starved woman. The frown and tiredness seem to disappear, drowning in the delightful sense of the intimacy between you two.

“Cuffed? We’ll see… Oh!” Caitlyn’s breathless voice slips out of her lips. She tries to bite down another moan. Another long, but slow flat lick along her soaked slit, reaching to throbbing clit and finally sucking on the sensitive bud, while applying the light pressure on her G-spot. And that another moan slips out. Another response, her hips buck to your mouth - wanting to feel more. And you want her to see the stars tonight. Her hand creeps down to grip softly your hair, her own long fingers rake through your hair and short-trimmed nails pleasantly scratch your scalp. Her thighs on your shoulders tense, urging you to move your free hand. Nails ghost over the flesh of her inner thigh, while your tongue keep circling and sucking on the clit.

The pressure of your digits, not forgetting to press with right angle to bring more pleasure to pump through her veins. Your tongue keep the same stable pace, light and teasing touch on her skin encourage her to buck her hips with similar pace, almost riding your face. You can see on her face, her own senses are overwhelmed, having a hard time to keep eye contact and drowning in the growing roots of heat coming from your ministrations. Her hips squirm, more slick slips and spread across your mouth - you know she is so close. Unsteady panting combines with moans coming from her swollen lips - teeth tortured that soft and delicate flesh too hard. God, you are going to kiss them soon. Caitlyn’s body writhes more, heels are kicking uselessly in the air as her back bows in pleasure again and your hand’s grip tightens on her hip to press more against your mouth, keeping the pace steady. Her head threw back and you can feel how her slick coats your mouth more, thighs press in around your head. The wave of warm pleasure hits her, flinching and letting more choked moans which resemble more hiccups now. An incoherent mess of moans.

It ended so fast, but still, you have all the time in the world. Pulling away from her warm and drenched pussy, coated with slick and your saliva - the same could be said about your face. And the last, but most important part - you give a kiss on her clitoris, slowly kissing your way up, leaving soft and light bite marks on the flesh her stomach, while your fingertips trail ghostly along sensitive and warmed up skin of her body. Enhancing the aftershocks of her orgasm. Impatiently reaching her lips, to capture them in the kiss. Forcing another soft moan out of Caitlyn against your lips, before her own tongue pushed against the plush and wet skin of your mouth, probing to deepen the kiss. You are not going to deny her, would be so very stupid of you. Her tongue twirls with yours, rolling them over each other. Her smell overwhelms you, wanting to go for another round. You can’t get enough of her, she tastes like the best and fresh pastry in the whole world, or maybe that just the taste of her slick lingering and making you almost dumb minded. Caitlyn is affected too, letting a soft groan at the taste of herself on your tongue. Her nails scratch your scalp pleasantly, but she doesn’t stop you from breaking the kiss.

“…what was about being cuffed?” Caitlyn says, a lazy smile slips out on her lips as her palms caress your upper thighs. A squirming heat pools in your stomach, you probably look enamoured more than ever. If that’s even possible.

Right, you have all night. Another round won’t hurt anyone.

[tune-on-in-folks]

imma need that alastor thigh riding PLEASE!! i literally love ur writing ❤️❤️

Day 15! This is so unpolished. But it's an attempt at me not editing my Alastor fics over and over. So enjoy this quick, probably sloppy entry! Also, thank you for your ask. I hope this is okay! <3

Tags/Warnings: thigh riding, orgasm, fem!reader, honestly pretty tame. Word Count: 1,623

Alastor was sitting in his armchair by the fire, a book in his hand. You pause in the threshold of the bathroom, watching him for a few moments. He had a soft smile on his face, his ear twitching the only sign he was aware you were done with your shower.

“Are you going to stand there all night, my dear?” He asks, his voice startling you out of your reverie.

You blush, meeting his gaze as he lowered his book. “No. I was just enjoying the view.”

He hums, switching his book to one hand as he pats his thigh with the other. “Come here.”

You take a deep breath and head over to the Overlord. You stop in front of him, watching him continue to read. It was still strange to you to see Alastor in his pajamas. Staying in his room was a recent change as well, something you were still trying to get used to.

“Well?” He prompts, “Sit down.”

Collecting your nerves, you perch yourself on his knee. Your apprehension earns you a chuckle from the man before he pulls you flush against his chest. A gasp falls from your lips as he spreads his legs, ensuring that you are straddling his thigh.

“A-Alastor!” You exclaim, face flushing with heat.

It was a really bad time for you to have forgotten your underwear in your room, you realize. Because now you were sitting on his lap in just a robe, your clit dragging deliciously against the fabric of his pants. You shift slightly, biting back a whimper at the stimulation against the sensitive nub. Alastor continues to read, unaware of your dilemma. You figure you’ll be okay as long as you don't move. So you lean back against Alastor’s chest, your eyes landing on the book in his hand. You read a couple of paragraphs before you get bored of whatever story he was reading. His hand rests idly around your waist, leaving every time he has to turn the page. You sit there for a few page turns, trying to ignore your growing boredom. You shift again, having forgotten about the stimulation until you move. You’re unable to stop the small whine that leaves your mouth this time.

“Something the matter, my dear?” Alastor asks, his eyes never leaving his book.

You bite your lip, reassuring him, “Nothing, Al. I’m fine, my love.”

You fall back into silence, listening to the gentle jazz music that fills his room. Your eyes wander about his room, taking in all the decorations on the walls. The contrast between the pocket dimension and the cabin-esque room was stark, but somehow worked. His room was a reflection of him and for that reason, you enjoyed it immensely. Alastor may have been actively courting you, but you still felt like there was a great deal you didn’t know about him.

You crane your neck behind you to watch the deer in the bayou when Alastor begins to idly bounce the leg you are sitting on. Your attention is drawn immediately as each bounce moves you, his pants dragging against your clit deliciously. You bite back yet another whimper as your arousal begins to build in your gut. Experimentally, you roll your hips forward, grinding down against his leg. Alastor’s attention never leaves his book, giving you enough courage to do it again. You quickly fall into a rhythm of grinding against his thigh with each bounce of his leg. His movement hid your own. Your breathing hitches, the pleasure slowly building as you get off against his thigh. You bite back another moan, leaning back further against your lover. You were trying to keep your movements small, barely detectable. Of course, you didn’t account for your arousal, which was quickly dampening Alastor’s pant leg. His brows furrow at the sensation, his leg coming to a sudden standstill. You gasp, your hips rolling forward, searching for the friction he just unknowingly deprived you of.

He raises an eyebrow, his attention being drawn away from his book. He observes your chest rising and falling, your breaths coming fast. His eyes flicker over the flush on your cheeks. How you had ground down against him, and the growing wetness on his pants- perfectly beneath you- clicks. He quickly puts it all together.

Nuzzling against your neck, Alastor whispers, “Now, my little doe, would you like to explain yourself?”

His hand gently trails up your exposed leg, closing around the hem of your robe.

You swallow, your voice wavering slightly as you ask, “E-explain what?”

Alastor begins to bounce his leg again, drawing a gasp from you. “Why, I’d like an explanation for why you’re so breathless, my dear.”

He pulls on the hem of your robe, pulling it from the tight wrap around your body. Your hands shoot to fix it before it could fall open completely.

“I-I’m breathless?” You pant, trying to play it off.

You were distracted with how your clit dragged against his pants with every bounce of his leg.

He laughs softly, hand sliding up your body again. “Do you take me for an idiot, dear?”

“No.” You whisper, shame filling you as you realize Alastor knew exactly what you had been doing. “Listen Al, I’m-”

You’re cut off as he pulls the sash free from your robe, letting it fall open completely. His leg stills in it’s bouncing again as he pulls the robe from your shoulders. You shiver as the cold air of his room blows over your body, your nipples hardening in an instant. In a moment you’re completely naked on his lap.

“Oh, I see. No panties, no wonder you’ve managed to soak through my pants.” He muses.

You weren’t certain your face could get any hotter with how embarrassed you were. “Alastor…”

You were certainly aroused, that was for certain, and he knew it. He presses a kiss against your neck, before pulling away to resume reading his book.

“Well?” He prompts, hand brushing against your naked skin, “Keep going.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, “Alastor?” You exclaim, not sure if you heard him right.

“That is my name dear, don’t wear it out.” He teases, acknowledging your repeated usage of his name.  “Now, as I said before, keep going. Don’t make me repeat myself again.”

You had heard him right after all.

You take a moment to collect yourself, to accept that he was allowing you to continue getting off against his leg. You begin to slowly grind against his thigh. You drag your clit against his pant leg, breath hitching with every pass. There was certainly a thrill that came from the fact that Alastor was completely clothed, reading his book, while you sat naked on his thigh, grinding down wantonly against him. He turned to the next page, his hand returning to rest on your thigh. After a few moments of grinding against him, watching him read, it began to annoy you that he was so focused on his book. You begin to move faster, trying to draw his attention to you. You let yourself gasp and moan, no longer holding back, as you attempt to draw his attention.

“Oh, Al!” You whimper, grinding down against his thigh faster as the coil of pleasure builds in your gut. “I’m so close.”

He turns to the next page of his book much to your increasing annoyance. You were so close to your release and yet it seemed so far without his attention, without him responding to you. You turn your body slightly, pressing kisses against his cheek. You pepper them down his jaw and to his neck, your breathing harsh. Despite all your attempts to pull his attention to you, he continues to read his damned book.

“Alastor,” You moan, nipping at his shoulder. “Please…. Please, please, please.”

He turns the page again, his attention never once wavering despite him responding, “Yes, my dear?”

“Fuck!” You curse, frustration building as your orgasm eludes you. “I need you to look at me. Please, just look at me.”

He doesn’t. “I’m reading, little doe.”

“And I can’t cum without you looking at me!” You whine, so close to the edge, and yet so far.

“That is a problem, isn’t it?” he laughs, turning to the next page.

You were pretty sure he hadn’t actually read both of those pages before turning to the next.

“Gah! Are you even reading? That’s the second page turn in a matter of moments.” You complain, frustrated, as you continue to grind against him.

Alastor suddenly snaps the book shut, “Well I was trying to read, my dear. But you are being rather insistent, you know?”

He sets his book onto the small side table next to you both, his eyes trailing down your body.

“Well, you have my attention, my little doe.” He leans into your ear, his breath hot as he whispers, “Going to cum for me now?”

Your hips stutter, a thrill running through you at his low tone of voice. He presses kisses to your neck, eyes watching you grind faster against his leg.

“Cum for me, dear.” He rasps.

You squeeze your eyes shut, rolling your hips forward as you jerk and spasm, your release finally washing over you. His pant leg dampens further as you cum against him. Your orgasm leaves you panting, your chest heaving with each breath. Slowly you settle down, resting your head against Alastor’s chest as you catch your breath. You meet his amused gaze as he looks down at you.

“What?” You breathe out.

“Oh,” He responds brightly, “I’m just amused that you think you’re done.” His voice drops dangerously low,  “You had your turn, my dear, but now it’s mine.”

[chillinglyadventurous]

Sneaking Around - Stanford Pines

Tags: NSFW! Age-gap relationship, sneaking around with Ford Pines so his brother, your boss, doesn’t find out.

Be gentle. This is my first NSFW post. I don’t know what I’m doing. I wrote this last night when I was half a sleep. Please ignore typos.

Minors DNI

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Part 4

You’d been sneaking around like this for months. What started out as chaste kisses around corners where Stan and the kids couldn’t see turned into Ford sneaking into your bedroom late at night only to sneak out early in the morning. You and Ford both knew Stan would kill him if he ever found out.

Stan had taken on a fatherly role in your life when you started working at the Shack 10 years ago when you were 17. Now, you and his brother were sneaking around like teenagers. It almost reminded you of your high school boyfriend, the one you would ditch work to make out with in the back of his truck.

Now, your back was pressed up against the back of the vending machine door which led down into Ford’s lab. Your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist as he thrust into you. You quieted the little gasps and whimpers escaping your body with the back of your hand held securely between your teeth.

“Shh,” you giggled as Ford let out a guttural groan when your muscles tightened around his length after he had hit just the right spot. “Shh,” you repeated when his hips hitched a bit too hard against your own, the lewd slapping of skin against skin echoing around you.

He fucked into you a bit harder, testing to see how well you could keep yourself quiet. One hand slipping between your bodies. You were already so close and he knew it. He’d had you with his mouth in the basement. He had you with his fingers on the stairs.

A whine escaped you when he slipped two fingers around the base of his cock just to stretch you that much more. Your head fell back into the vending machine with a loud thud your hazy mind couldn’t comprehend. Your walls fluttering in time with your heart.

“That’s it,” Ford encouraged as his fingers and cock held steadfast, thumb circling your clit in a relentless pattern. Clockwise, counterclockwise, and back in rapid succession, “Come on, [Y/N], be a good girl and cum for me.” He chuckled when you bit down on his sweater clad shoulder to stifle the sweet moan he was doing his best to draw out of you, angling himself to keep hitting that spot that made you tremble.

You whined, “Stanford, please!”

He repeated the shush you have given him as he watched your jaw go slack, eyes and forehead crinkled together. Your mouth fell open as he continued he thrusts rhythmically.

Suddenly, you heard Stan’s voice as he guided a group of tourists into the gift shop. You and Ford froze. His cock buried deep inside you, bodies flush. One of his hands slid up your body to cup around you mouth. You did the same to him. Your eyes were wide as you stared into Ford’s. You were breathing so heavily, the air forcing itself through your nose as it was unable to escape your mouth.

Your eyes rolled back and a whine escaped you when he adjusted you to keep you from falling, sheathing himself deeper into you as he pressed you further into the back of the vending machine. He was too still and you needed him too much for this to stop. Your mind body was screaming, unconsciously milking him in an attempt to get him thrusting again, but he wouldn’t budge. In a last ditch attempt, your hips rocked against him.

A loud groan slipped through his lips and past your hand. He gave you a stern look before dropping you back onto your feet, “Naughty girl.”

You could hear Stan’s angry voice, “Well, folks, it seems my cashier has mysteriously disappeared!”

Your state was incredulous as he flipped the hem of your dress back down to your knees, stuffing his cock back into his pants before zipping them up. A frustrated huff left him, but he kissed your forehead so sweetly.

Your body still buzzed with arousal, throwing your arms around his neck to keep him close to you. Damn Stan and his fucking tourists. You kissed him once, twice, three times, “I’ll sneak out. You go back down there.”

“I’ll make it up to you later, I promise,” his forehead rested against yours as he took a calming breath.

This wasn’t fair. He knew it. The sneaking around was killing both of you. It may have been incredibly sexy, but it often led to moments like this, unable to finish. You were both often left frustrated and needy. It was really starting to get to both of you.

You kissed his lips, sending a shock of pleasure down through both of you. “I love you,” you whispered when his hands left you, his body peeling off of yours.

“I love you too,” he smiled before disappearing into the elevator.

You slipped from behind the vending machine. The tourists didn’t notice you, but Stan did. His face angry. Time was money, “There she is, everyone!” You gave Stan a sheepish smile before strolling back behind the counter on shaking legs, “Remember, we put the fun in ‘No Refunds!’”

As the crown browsed, Stan strolled to stand next to you. The stool beneath you was the only thing keeping your knees from giving out, “Sorry, Ford was showing me the quantum destabilizer. I lost track of time.”

“I let you live here for free kid,” he grouched, “don’t be skipping out on work to hang out with that nerd.” Stan snorted, “I think he has a little crush on you. I’d kill him if he ever touches you. Can’t have him distracting my best employee.”

You nodded, “Sorry, Stan.”

[gyusrose]

➵ i still get jealous -> y. jw

⚠︎ smut ! (mdni)

✎ toxic!jungwon, unprotected sex, degrading, dirty talk, face-fucking, angry sex

summary: you’ve been friends with jake for as long as you can remember, jungwon shouldn’t feel insecure about him, right?

wc: 1.5k

{ jungwon x fem.reader}

( i got inspired by that one question they asked won in the fan meet hehehe)

“wonie? wonie? is everything alright?” jungwon gripped the steering wheel locking his jaw. of course he wasn’t alright.

you’ve spent the entire night (according to him) on your phone texting that fucker. it’s always ‘jake this’ ‘jake that’ he’s starting to feel a certain way about this dude.

jungwon shook his head at your question, not trying to start arguing while he’s driving.

“you’re just awfully silent, is something bothering you? do you feel sick?”

jungwon rolled his eyes at your naiveness, you pretty much ignored him (again according to him) the whole night.

“i don’t know, maybe ask jake how he feels.” there. he said it, well.. spatted.

you instantly rolled your eyes, he’s back at it again.

“don’t start, you know exactly what’s between me and jake.”

“are you sure ? you were giggling on the phone the whole night!”

“i answered one 3-minute call! that’s it! do you not trust me ?”

“i sometimes feel like i don’t, you barely talked to me, it always jake jake jake jake.”

your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. where was he getting all of this from?

jungwon was in fact wrong. you didn’t ignore him nor talked with jake the whole night. you answers ONE call from him and then turned off your phone to give jungwon all your undivided attention. but jungwon like always, overthinks everything.

“at this point just date him.” at this point jungwon was furious.

“oh stop being ridiculous jungwon!”

“oh i’m ridiculous ? alright we’ll see.”

the rest of the ride was quiet, you didn’t have the guts to respond to jungwon after what he said. your breath quickened, for some reason you felt..nervous?

jungwon threw his keys on the counter as y’all entered the apartment.

he pulled you into the bedroom in a blink of an eye, gripping your neck, so you’re looking at him straight in the eye.

“i’m gonna fucking teach you, not to be such a little slut, i’m the only man you should talk to, am i right?”

you nodded quickly.

“use your words”

“yes, yes jungwon only you.”

he let go of your neck, now stripping from his clothes, you went along with his steps and took your own clothes off.

“on your knees baby.”

he said stroking his dick in front of you.

“you know what to do.” you grabbed his base and licked the tip slowly. feeling the urge to tease him.

jungwon groaned at your actions. grabbing your chin.

“nuh uh, open wide, i see what you’re trying to do.” you opened up your mouth while he grabbed hair into a ponytail. his hips thrusted up inside your mouth as he pushed your head down onto his cock. pretty much fucking the hell out of your face.

jungwon’s eyes closed in pleasure as he continued to furiously thrust into your mouth, the feeling of tagging drove him over the edge, the way your throat closes made his dick twitch.

“fuck yeah, that’s right, keep that mouth open for me whore. “

at some point you couldn’t take it anymore and started moaning into his dick sending vibrations through it.

he finally pulled out of your mouth, not wanting to cum so easily. you were just adjusting your breathing when you felt being thrown into the bed.

“are you tired already ? i haven’t even fucked you yet, how pathetic.” she said shaking his head in disappointment.

without any warning, he inserted two of his long fingers into your cunt, making your back arch at the sudden sensation. he purposely went really slow, loving to see how stressed you’d get. lifting your hips up a little to go faster.

jungwon held your hips still, smacking the inside of your thigh, making you squirm.

“you think i’m going to let you do what you want?” his fingers still thrusting into you curling them inside.

you moaned loudly, wanting to be filled up already.

“please jungwon, fuck me, just fuck me!”

jungwon chuckled, this is how he wanted to see you, begging for him only him.

“so desperate for my dick, you fucking love it don’t you?” he said looking straight at you.

you could barely form a sentence but you managed to.

“yes please wonie just fill me up, i need you.” jungwon didn’t want to give in so easily but fuck was that so hard to do when you’re looking at him with those eyes begging to be fucked.

he retracted his fingers from you and instead lined himself up with your entrance. the wetness from his dick and your pussy was more than enough lube.

he dragged his dick up and down your pussy making you whine.

finally, he slowly entered you. nothing could be compared to the feeling of being inside of you. the way your pussy engrossed his cock almost made him cum on the spot.

jungwon wasted almost no time and started slamming into you with no mercy, your cries could probably be heard from blocks away.

the bed squeaked with every thrust he stirred.

“oh fuck jungwon, just like that fuck yes!” he knew how to drive you crazy, knowing exactly where to hit in your insides.

“mhm yeah? you like that? can jake fuck you like this? can he?” he grabbed your chin straight at him. normally you would roll your eyes at his remarks over your best friend but how hot it looked right now.

wanting to tease him more, you nodded your head.

“i don’t know maybe, he could probably go faster..” jungwon was appalled.

his thrusts weee enraged. you could feel how infuriated he was with every one of them. it was amazing.

“oh you think? can he make you feel like this? huh?” his hand lowered to your pussy, rubbing your clit in circular motion making you hips snap at the impact it had on your body.

you whines, moaned and groaned at all once.

“answer me!”

“no-shit - not he can’t.” with the speed he was going at, jungwon was dying for this view, you tits bouncing up at every thrust, he couldn’t help but lean down to suck and fondle them.

your hands reached down to his hair, gripping it not wanting him to pull away from them.

jungwon pulled away from your nipple and leaned back to his original position. now putting your legs over his shoulder in order to go even deeper (if possible) .

“only i can see you like this, you get that slut? no one, specifically jake can.”

“yes only you baby, fuck i’m gonna cum!” tears could be seen streaming down your face from the immense amount of pleasure you were receiving. jungwon wiped your tears then leaned down engulfing you in a deep kiss. his tongue swirled around yours, it felt like everything all at once. lust, love, anger, compassion.

“who’s pussy is this huh? tell me.”

“i’m cumming holy shit.”

“do not cum! tell me answer my question! who’s pussy is this?”

the ecstasy from the pleasure but now the urge to cum made your mind numb. barely forming a sentence.

“yours jungwon.” you said quietly, sure he heard it but he wasn’t content with it.

“i can’t hear you!” jungwon leaned closer to you. smirking. he wanted to cum so bad, but he wanted to hear you say that before it.

“yours jungwon! all yours to fuck.” you said much louder this time, the stress visible in your voice.

that’s all it took jungwon to come undone inside of you.

“fuck cum with me baby, cum all over my dick.” your orgasm mixed with his meant a furor of moans echoing around the bedroom.

jungwon pulled out of you before plopping right next to you, hugging your waist.

“tell that fucker to not call you so much.” you chuckled and kissed his lips knowing damn well that you’ll probably do it again in order to have this side of jungwon again.

[sencrose]

— ENCORE!

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

tags: exhibitionism, established relationship, toys (vibrator), idol AU (reader's an idol), praise, multiple orgasms, overstim, dacryphilia, clothed/floor sex, pet names (angel/sweetheart/princess), satoru being a wee bit possessive/mean, reader’s kinda tsun

wc: 4.6k

summary: your boyfriend wants you to put on a special show for the night, and your audience is none the wiser.

a/n: happy holidays! let's completely ignore canon together <3 i'll be free from idol AU bs one day. today is not that day. i got a tag on my blog for any idol!reader stuff involving gojo at #iettoru! if it piques your interest! special thanks to @angelbunsx and @surpassing-morning for looking over this for me <3 dividers by @/adornedwithlight

❥ ao3 link here

This was a horrible idea. Well, it still is a horrible idea, but you went along with it anyway. At the end of the day, you only really have yourself to blame, even though you would really like to split it with your boyfriend.

It took a bit of convincing, maybe a bit of guilt tripping, but it doesn’t change the fact that there’s a vibrator stuffed inside you as you walk onto the stage. Everything feels more intense than usual– the brightness of the stage lights, the stuffiness of the venue, the cheers of the crowd.

You inhale deeply but the words that follow come out shaky, “T-thanks for coming, everyone!” It catches you off guard, but not enough to stop talking. Your group members, however, give you a worried glance. You can’t afford to make them worry about you, not when there’s nothing worth worrying about other than your boyfriend’s perverted fantasies. So you continue, yelling into the mic as a way to hide your unsteady breathing, “We have a great show planned for tonight, so we hope you enjoy it!”

The crowd cheers, as per usual. Though this time it rumbles through you, intensifying the already overwhelming vibrations stirring you up. You don’t have much time to think about it. The start of the backing track catches you off guard, as you rush to catch up with your members’ formation. Everything feels hot, and you’re not sure what it is, the embarrassment of a rare mistake, or the vibrations rushing through your body with each step.

And though you’re struggling to keep up with the routines you’ve practiced dozens of times over, Satoru doesn’t seem to be phased. He’s business as usual, a sun bright smile plastered on his face as he yells and waves his penlight in the air. He might even be cheering louder than usual, the bastard.

Every move feels risky, like taking a block from an unsteady tower of jenga. The world’s worst game of flipping the coin. Either the vibrator will adjust inside you, press against somewhere that might make you moan, or maybe it’ll move around enough and slip out. Thinking about the latter is too much for you, so you surrender yourself to moving a bit less than usual. Focus on shining that dazzling smile to the crowd and hope they won’t see how it falters with every shift of your body.

And thankfully, it works for the first performance. You’ve never been so grateful to hear the crowd whoop and holler. Even more so that you’re not introducing the next song.

But that moment of relief is cut short. The vibrations pattern changes to something more intense, staccato pulses that make you wince with each throb. It catches you off guard, a soft moan escaping your lips before you try to cover it up with a cough, though you’re not sure it’s that convincing.

“You doing okay over there?” Your member’s voice barely registers in your ears as you rush to put on a fake smile.

“S-Sorry, I’m doing okay! Just recovering from a cold,” you reply with a shaky chuckle. Everyone seems to be content with your answer, though Satoru seems exceptionally proud of himself. It takes every bit of self control to keep your breathing steady, as your members banter amongst themselves before introducing the next song. Their speech feels like it’s going on for ages until they finally get themselves in position.

Thankfully, you’re not caught off guard this time, though the choreo’s a lot more complicated for this song. You don’t have the safety of being hidden in the back, being front and center for a good chunk of the performance. Though the audience cheers, you can see some concerned faces interspersed between the sea of penlights, some murmurs and whispers beyond what you can hear. It’s not hard to imagine what the conversation would consist of.

Even on a good day this routine would leave you breathless, but it’s on a whole other level now. It’s hard to keep your muscles clenched, terrified of having the toy slip out of you from your frenzied movements. And seriously, who thought adding this many jumps was a good idea?

But with each hit of a drum, you jump anyways, though a little less enthused than your members. Then, as if it’s a punishment for not giving enough effort, the speed of the vibrator increases. Your eyes dart to find Satoru in the audience, but he’s cheering innocently as usual, though one of his hands is dug deep in his pocket.

You’re going to kill him later.

With each move, it’s getting harder to ignore the tension building in your core. But you just have to get through this song and another before the buppan period. It’s only another ten minutes max, you can keep it together till then, you think.

Satoru plays more with the settings and you can feel him pushing the buttons for each one, carefully watching your reaction to see which is the most effective. Unfortunately for you, it’s written clearly on your face when your smile breaks and your eyes squeeze shut for a brief moment, just enough for Satoru to hone in on it.

You’ve vastly overestimated your ability to stay calm and collected. The buzzing inside you is erratic now, each pulse getting you closer to the edge. But the song is so close to being over, maybe if you just move a little less, catch a small break where you can focus on standing still, you can make it through. Though, it’s hard to concentrate when you can feel a pool forming in your underwear, the wet cotton sticking to your skin wherever you go.

It’s as if you can feel yourself developing a fever in real-time, heat boiling beneath the surface of your skin as you struggle to keep up with your members. It doesn’t help that Satoru keeps changing the vibrations to a pattern that doesn’t match the rhythm of the music, yet another added distraction. It demands your attention as if it’s a living, breathing being, gnaws and claws at your core until you finally give it what it wants.

The vibrator wins over your self-determination.

You at least have the self control to fake a cough over it, but not before your knees give out on you, trembling as you try to hold yourself back up. With every pulse, ecstasy courses through your body, small choked moans escaping your lips.

Your group members, sweet as they are, immediately come to your side to help you up, and you’re rushing back to coughing to hide the truth.

“H-Hey, you really don’t have to push yourself, you know,” she whispers to ensure the audience doesn’t hear.

You do your best to swat her away without actually hitting her, afraid she’ll be able to feel the toy vibrating through your skin and discover your dirty little secret.

“N-No, I’m fine, I can do one last song,” you get out, enunciating each syllable carefully to not spur any suspicion.

“You sure?”

“Y-Yeah, it’s just one more,” you assure her.

“Okay…” Hesitantly, she lets you recollect yourself, watching over you until you stand, give her a smile and a thumbs up.

“Sorry about that everyone, I’m okay! But this will be our last song of the night,” you announce into the mic, swiping the dust off your skirt.

You get a bit of your spirit back now that you got that out of your system. That doesn’t make the vibrations any less incessant.

Unbeknownst to the audience, it’s not a performance anymore–it’s a competition. To show Satoru you can hold it out till the end.

And with the start of the instrumental, you’re off to the races.

A thread of melodic synths weaves its way through the room, and the crowd fires off their usual chants during the introduction. It’s a nice distraction to hold you over until it’s your turn in the center. When it’s your time, you beam and sing sweetly into the mic, like it’s just your average performance. Satoru doesn’t let you go that easily, adjusting the attack pattern to diminish and swell in a way that catches you off guard.

And though it’s hard, it’s not the worst of the night. You hiccup on a note for a split second, but it seems to go unnoticed by the audience, considering how hard they’re waving their penlights. That’s one third of the song out of the way.

Even when you’re out of the spotlight, Satoru doesn’t take his eyes off you, nor does he take his fingers off the remote. Every move is an opportunity to see you break, even if it’s just a little. He does his best to find a rhythm, one that pulses with the beat of the music, and you feel it reverberating through you with each step. It’s not quite enough to make you break, but it’s enough that you’re hyper aware of it.

A frenzied mix of bass and synths meld together for the bridge, and the crowd takes it as their cue to do the appropriate chants, their yells rattling your chest almost as intensely as the vibrator. It’s bad timing to feel the heat in your core swell as you take your spot center stage for your solo with the instrumental toned down. The crowd quiets down too, a rush of soft claps pattering like butterflies filling the room. On a regular night, this display would be cute, heartwarming even. But now it only serves as a reminder that all eyes are on you, and only you.

Don’t mess up.

So you take a deep breath, gripping onto the mic like a vice. All of your focus is on the lyrics, singing them as softly and sweetly as you can. Even though the night was off to a rough start, you think you’ve redeemed yourself with this, hitting every note just right, even with the vibrator doing its best to pull your attention back to it. Back to Satoru.

You can take it easy now. It’s almost over. Just repeat the dance you've already done twice over from the other choruses.

And for once, it’s just as simple as that. The vibrating is incessant, but you’ve gotten used to it at this point, even with the occasional change in pattern. Your chest rises and falls harder than usual as you hold your finishing pose, your skin covered in beads of sweat you aren’t accustomed to.

Despite everything Satoru attempted to throw at you, you made it, and that’s all that matters. The performance is over.

For now. —

The buppan period is worse than you thought it was going to be. To your surprise, Satoru didn’t do his usual frenzied ticket buying spree and now you’re left to face the masses he usually doesn’t let you see. You don’t recognize the fan in front of you, can’t even determine if he’s a first time fan or if you’ve met him so long ago the passage of time has done your memory in.

“H-Hi, thanks for coming!” you exclaim, taking his ticket and placing it on the table.

“Thanks for the performance! I really hope you’ll feel better soon,” he remarks. The way he scratches his neck tips you off that he’s nervous.

“Aw thank you! I’m already feeling better for the most part, I’m just coughing a little here and there,” you do your best to assure him, lying through your teeth.

“Despite it all, you still did great today,” he says, whispering towards the end of his sentence.

“Thanks,” you smile, and you don’t want to admit it but you are a bit touched by his words. Quickly, you shake the thought away. Maybe you understand why Satoru monopolizes your time now. “So, did you have a pose in mind?”

“Yeah, just a hand heart, if that’s okay,” he offers, a bit hesitant, shakily playing with his hands to show you the gesture he’s thinking of.

“Sounds good!” You give him a thumbs up before leaning in a bit closer to him, just enough that your fingertips are touching. Look into the camera with your usual smile, and count down from three.

As soon as the flash of the camera dissipates, you’re hit with a rush of pulses to your core. It’s almost enough to make you keel over, a sliver of a groan escaping you as you bend over to grab your stomach.

“A-Are you okay?” he asks, his hands hovering over you wanting to help, but unsure if he should touch.

You don’t think you deserve his kindness.

“Y-Yeah, sorry, just,” you sigh, barely able to keep it together. Each pulse takes the wind out of you, gets you closer on that precipice you don’t want to experience here, not this close to a stranger, much less a fan. So, you wave the white flag for now, gritting your teeth to get the words out between deep breaths, “I think I gotta go. I’ll be back in a bit.”

–

Your absence doesn’t go unnoticed by Satoru. If anything, this is probably what he had in mind, push you to your limits until you just can’t take it anymore. By the time you barely have a moment to collect yourself, he’s already found you on the floor of the green room. It’s pathetic, letting him see you like this–breathless, panting, and desperate for relief.

The way he hovers over you paints him in a surreal, hazy light, as if he’s an angel coming down to save you from your strife, when he’s really the demon who put you in this scenario to begin with.

“My angel loves the attention, doesn’t she?” he asks, sickly sweet.

“Fuck off, Satoru,” you bite back, but you don’t stop him when he bends down to shuts you up with a kiss. It’s impossible to keep your voice back when he splits your legs apart with his knee, pressing up against your soaked panties while the vibrator continues to hum inside you. It’s more overwhelming than you thought, finally getting what you want and letting yourself melt into his touch. Satoru doesn’t let you savor it for too long, pulling away with a shit-eating grin.

“Feisty. Did I make you wait too long?” he sneers, pressing his forehead against yours.

You don’t give him a response, too embarrassed at the mess he’s made of you, at the way your wet underwear clings to your sticky folds.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you all the attention you need,” he coos, sliding his hand up your thigh to pull down your shorts and underwear.

Satoru takes his sweet time because he always enjoys seeing how restless you get over him. The way you look up at him, the hint of tears forming on your waterline while pawing at him as you silently beg for him to take care of you. He could never get sick of it. So, he gently massages your inner thigh, fingers creeping up closer to your pussy until you’re nearly crying, pleading for him to do something.

“P-Please, take it out ‘Toru,” you whine, sniffling a bit because you’re so close to being overstimulated.

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispers soft and low, “since you asked so nicely…” he trails off, lithe fingers pressing into your soaked cunt, but not before he has some more fun with you. Satoru takes his sweet time, letting out a little “oops” to pretend the toy is slipping from his grasp, only for his fingers to go deeper than the vibrator.

The moment you part your lips to ask him to stop is the moment he finally shows mercy and slowly pulls out the vibrator. The sudden loss of sensation is a contradiction, both welcome and not. It’s strange to have nothing inside you, it almost makes you wish something else was in there to take its place.

One thing that catches you both off guard is just how wet it is, nearly dripping with your arousal.

“Wonder if any fans noticed you’re practically leaking,” he says before licking a long stripe off the vibrator, “not that it matters, you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

“It’s just sweat,” you retort, looking off to the side because you can’t stand to inflate his ego when he gets like this.

“Sure it is. Were you thinking of me up there?” he asks, following your gaze.

“Maybe,” you mumble.

“Huh? What was that?” he perks up, bringing a hand to his ear for dramatic effect.

“Toru, just put it inside already,” you huff with a soft pout.

“Wooooow,” he comments, drawing out the vowel for dramatic effect, “needy today aren’t we?”

“It’s your fault anyways,” you say, an attempt to throw the blame back at him. Still, you wrap your fingers in his shirt before pulling his body closer.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take the blame as always. For what it’s worth, you’re just as bad as me,” he comments. His fingers slide against your slick folds and you bite your lip to hold your voice back.

Satoru savors every moment he has with you, drinking in the sight of your cunt practically dripping arousal onto the floor. The more he stares, the more your face burns. No matter how many times you’ve done this, you can’t get over how attentive he is.

He sinks in a single finger, and it’s already enough to have you groaning at the sensation, to have your hips bucking into him.

“What kinda idol runs off to the green room in the middle of an event to get fucked?” Satoru teases, his finger pressing into you harder.

“Y-You’re being mean, ‘Toru,” you whine.

“You like when I’m mean,” he quips back before pressing in another finger with little resistance.

Satoru does what he always does–starts slowly, listens carefully to the way your breath hitches as he curls his fingers to find that special spot. When he gets there it’s hard not to relinquish control, as you lean back and let him take care of you. As much as he loves to listen to your moans, he likes swallowing them up too, feverishly kissing you without letting a single one slip from your lips. Satoru only pulls away from a moment to tease you.

“C’mon angel, you gotta let me know if it feels good,” he coos before picking up the pace. It’s too much, embarrassing to hear the wet squelches leaving your pussy the more he fingers you.

Every part of you runs hot as the tension that’s been simmering in your core builds to a roaring boil. Desperation overrides any rational thought as you find a rhythm and ride his fingers, nearly drooling as you feel your muscles tensing up. You’re so close, and he knows it too, because Satoru’s kisses always get messier when you get close to cumming.

“T-Toru, please,” you whine between moans, but you’re not sure what you’re asking for.

“I know, I know,” he coos before giving you a soft peck on the cheek, “let it all out for me, sweetheart.”

It’s as if he knows your body better than you as the tension in your core finally snaps as you cum on his fingers. Satoru being the fiend he is, continues fucking you through it, pushing his fingers in harder when you inevitably clench around him.

“Too much, too much, ‘Toru,” you cry, attempting to grab his wrist but he simply pushes himself deeper into your cunt.

“One more? I know my princess wants another,” he teases before kissing you to cut off of any chance of a response. It’s not like you would be able to give him an answer anyways, not when his fingers play with you so easily, his lips greedily stealing every one of your breaths and moans for himself.

One thing about Satoru is that he likes to overindulge. Likes when you’re extra loud and needy for him, seeing the pleasure written plainly on your face when he fucks you, whether that’s with his fingers, his tongue, his dick, or anything else he can get his hands on. But that makes him insatiable in some aspects, when he makes you cum on his fingers multiple times before he’ll even entertain the prospect of fucking you properly.

Can you really blame him? He just wants to feel all your love for him dripping down his cock. Maybe even make you cry a little because you just look too cute when you do, and even cuter when you sniffle as he wipes your tears and kisses them. It sets off something in him.

But it’s also hard to keep up with him. When you grip onto his hand and try to pull his fingers out because it’s too much, he simply wraps his arm around your waist and keeps you from escaping. Satoru’s determination is a wild animal that can’t be tamed, especially when it comes to you.

It always pays off for him, but that means it pays off for you as well. Though, you’re in tears when he rips another orgasm out of you, your moans too deafening to quell with a kiss. Your legs involuntarily squeeze close as Satoru gets you near the edge of ache and overstimulation, but he uses his other hand to split them open, watching closely how your pussy convulses and flutters around his fingers as you come undone. Only when you finally come down from your high does he slow down, examining just how much you soaked his hand.

“You didn’t have to go so hard, Satoru,” you scoff when he finally gives you a break.

“Just gotta make sure you’re all prepped for me,” he mewls, pulling out his fingers from your messy cunt. They glisten under the fluorescent lighting, before Satoru shamelessly sucks on them before releasing it with a pop.

“Don’t have to go all above and beyond on me,” you mumble, a bit embarrassed at his shamelessness even though it’s just the two of you in the room.

“But my angel only deserves the best,” he says, voice low and sultry. Hastily, he’s stumbling over himself to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants before palming himself over the fabric. That doesn’t last long before he finally frees his cock, already hard and raring to go.

Satoru pulls up your skirt to your waist before slotting himself between your legs. Even still, he teases you, tapping his cockhead on your slick folds and letting out a whistle when a thread of your arousal sticks to him before thinning out and breaking.

“T-Toru, please,” your voice breaks with each tap of his cock against your cunt, the desire to be filled up driving you to the edge of tears.

“Please what?”

“Put it inside already,” you beg with a pout.

“Whatever you say, princess,” he coos before pressing the tip of his cock against your hole, and both of you moan when he bottoms out quicker than usual, thanks to all his hard work. Satoru holds your head in his hands as he pumps into you with a steady rhythm, each stroke punctuated with a hard snap of his hips.

“Fuck, you really are made just for me, aren’t you?” he pants breathily, before planting a wet kiss on your neck.

You can’t bring yourself to answer, not that he really needs one. With his mouth elsewhere, your lips are free to spill all the moans it wants, and they’re abundant. It’s music to Satoru’s ears, as he hums in delight while biting down on your shoulder.

“Can’t be so loud angel, the others’ll hear you,” he teases, as if that isn’t his dream come true. His lips press into yours, and you don’t hesitate to give him the opening he wants. Satoru kisses you sloppily, spit and drool mixing with yours before spilling from the sides of your mouth.

“Is that what you want? Want your fans to know what a pervert you are?”

“No, no, no,” you protest, shaking your head with a tinge of guilt in your chest. You can only imagine the shock your fans and members would have if they ever knew about this happening just a handful of meters away. But that concern disappears as fast as it came when Satoru turns on the vibrator again and plants it against your clit. Your body writhes from the simulation suddenly being introduced again, but Satoru is unrelenting, keeping it right against the sensitive bundle of nerves no matter how much you move.

“It’s okay, I’ll keep your secret,” he says softly, almost gentle, contrary to the position he currently has you in.

Satoru adjusts and presses your legs as far back as he can before he starts building a merciless pace. The weight of his body against yours is suffocating, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when he hits your deepest parts from this angle.

“Fuck, you’re getting close, aren’t you? Can tell from the way you’re squeezing me,” he groans, his voice getting breathier with each word, “you wanna cum, sweetheart?”

“P-Please make me cum, ‘Toru,” you pant out.

Satoru answers by frantically thrusting his hips into you, hitting your deepest points at a pace that’s dizzying. Words are the last thing on your mind, too fucked out and crying from how good it feels. You don’t even protest when Satoru bites down on your neck, even harder than before. All you give him is a drawn out whine as he sucks on the skin and with how intense he’s being, it’s definitely going to leave a mark.

It doesn’t matter. All you can focus on is tightening your muscles, preparing yourself for your fourth climax of the night. Satoru is merciless, thrusting into you like an animal functioning on a base desire to breed. The sound of skin-to-skin slapping fills the room, nearly muffling your own babbled cries as you get close. The tension in your core builds and builds until it snaps and crashes into you like a tidal wave, deep and full-bodied.

Your nails dig into his chest when he continues to fuck you through it like he always does, thighs trembling as your walls convulse and flutter around his cock. Satoru curses under his breath as his pace slackens, your orgasm being a precursor to his own. Despite him making a mess of you, he’s just the same as you when he’s cumming, maybe even worse–desperately humping into you and repeatedly whispering “I love you” and moaning until his hips finally give out.

Satoru digs himself deeper into you as he cums, making sure you can feel all of his love for you in the hot ropes of white that paint your insides. After he’s emptied all that he can inside of you, he finally dismounts and gives your body the chance to recover.

You barely take a moment to recollect yourself, still panting and sweating from the intense orgasm when Satoru uncharacteristically rushes to get his clothes back on.

“What are you doing?” you ask, still out of breath.

“Going back out. I still have these to redeem,” he says matter-of-factly. Satoru rummages through his pockets before brandishing a handful of cheki tickets, all with your likeness smothered on them. Before you can even offer up a response, he gives you a peck on the cheek. “You’re not going to keep me waiting, are you?”

[florencebirdsong]

Wandanat Breeding Kink - WIP Wednesday

Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Authors note: happy wip wednesday! Here is a sneak peak of the poll winner :) Thank you to those who voted <3

Tags: 18+ minors DNI, snippet, bondage, strap-on mention, mommy Wanda, dom Natasha

Wanda grabs your wrists in a bruising grip and shoves them against the bed. A second later the padded cuffs are around them. It takes you a long moment to catch up. You hadn’t even realised you’d been touching her. You tug at them and Wanda gives you a scolding tap on the thigh. You give her a pleading look. You didn’t mean to.

She happily ignores you and leans over to the bedside drawer. You watch curiously. You haven’t been naughty enough to be worried. Natasha uncrossing her legs catches your eyes. You look up to find her solely focused on you, a small smirk playing about her lips. She knows something you don’t. You turn your head back to Wanda as she pulls out a strap-on and harness. A bit bigger than usual but the dim lighting doesn’t let you see anything significant. It doesn’t look familiar.

Wanda settles back on her heels and looks down at you with blown pupils.

“Mommy bought a special toy for tonight,” she says in that breathless excited way she sometimes gets. You perk up curiously. Is it a vibrating dildo?

“Why don’t you let me put it on for you?” Natasha asks. You try not to smile. Normally she wouldn’t ask but she’s pissed Wanda off enough to be a little submissive. Or…at least not so directly dominant.

Wanda gives her a considering look. Natasha hasn’t protested once about the side-lined position Wanda has put her in and she’s listened to every command she’s been given so far.

Wanda nods and waits for Natasha to come to the bed and hold her hand out. Wanda grabs it and Natasha helps her gracefully off of the bed. Natasha kisses the back of her hand as she slowly lowers herself to her knees.

Wanda had lost her shirt when getting you into bed and Natasha takes advantage of this by pressing gentle kisses over Wanda’s stomach while she unbuttons her jeans.

Natasha kisses a path down Wanda’s thigh as she pulls her jeans and underwear down her legs before stopping to allow Wanda to step out them. Natasha toes the line when she sits back up on her knees to nudge Wanda’s clit. Her tongue sneaks out and Wanda’s head falls backwards with a soft moan. She basks in the attention for a few moments, until Natasha dips her tongue lower. She immediately pushes Natasha’s head away and clicks her tongue.

“That’s not what you’re here for,” she says.

[mikgreo]

Hiya! Love your posts so so so much ♡

I was wondering if you could do how haikyuu (or jjk) men react to finding out the reader has a kink for being fucked in front of someone else 🫣

Tysm! Anon x

“curiosity killed the cat.”

haikyuu headcanons.

a/n. ty nonnie for requesting!! ive never thought about writing something like this but it made me excited to see what i could come up with, i had fun writing this! take care nonnie <3!! i might do pt.2 :3

chars. oikawa, iwaizumi, kuroo, bokuto, akaashi, atsumu, osamu, suna.

syp. haikyuu characters & exhibitionism! +mini scenarios.

tags. exhibition, voyeurism, p/v, degradation, praise, petnames, pronouns or gender not mentioned but reader has a kitty & boobies, and use of babygirl/girl, manhandling (bokuto), edging, overstimulation, recording, whatever i missed..

oikawa!

rough jealous sex, teases you alot, might share you depending on the person, makes you moan out his name while the other person makes you cum, tried to get you to go to a kink club but you denied (“y/n-chann!! it’ll be fun!”)

he never thought you, or anyone else, were the type to initiate stuff like that, he was always just used to casual sex with his partners. but when he mentioned how “you probably want iwaizumi to see you like this, huh?” and felt you tighten up around him, he knew exactly what to do, he called iwa to come see a particular “show.”

“k-kawa!! s’too much.. sl-slow dowwwn~..ng-nghh!~” you whined out as oikawa thrusted deeply and roughly directly on your g-spot countless of times. “you like iwa-chan watching you get your back blown out, huh? you dirty fuckin’ girl, t’is what you wanted hm?” he slapped your ass, “after all yer stupid ass swayin’ and bendin’ over infront of ‘em you kinda asked for it, you slut.” he glanced over at iwaizumi, who was sitting on oikawa’s desk chair watching you two, face dusted in red and pink hues, sweat beads falling down his forehead. “come, its yer turn iwa-chan~”

iwaizumi!

def has vanilla sex, he likes to show that he can make you feel good by his hands, nice and soft, wouldnt share you but would make you speak out on how good hes making you feel

iwaizumi wasnt really used to anything like this, he was never the type of guy to have multiple girlfriends, let alone be sexually active. so whenever he found out from oikawa that your friend mentioned you were into that stuff, he didn’t know if he should ignore or act on it. but the more he thought about it the more frequently he found himself masturbating in the bathroom at the thought of him pleasuring you infront of another man. so, he decided to act on it.

“mmm, just like that, babygirl. keep rockin’ yer hips on my fingers js like thaaat.” iwaizumi had you on his lap infront of oikawa, who was sitting on iwaizumi’s gaming chair. legs pried open, glistening wet cunt on full display, you shamefully moaned at the circles iwa had been rubbing on your clit and your entrance. “tell ‘kawa how much you want me to fuck you with my fingers, doll.”

kuroo!

rough sex, open to threesomes (depending on the person), makes the third party record you two, edging/overstimulation final boss

lowkey wasnt that fazed about it, he’s been through some kinky people that he ended up ghosting/breaking up with because the kinks were overstepping boundaries, but he thought yours was quite doable. definitely got turned on once kenma told him you had said you were into that stuff. so he promised kenma he’d buy him the newest pc if he cooperated with his plan.

“oh yeahhh, look up at the camera just like that baby.” kuroo said behind you, as he was thrustinf his fingers into your seeping hole. he had you on all fours while you gave kenma a blowjob, as he recorded you all. “mmm…!!~” you mumbled onto kenmas cock, which he shuddered at. “you cummin’? i told you, cant til you make kenny here cum first, sweetheart.” this went on for 3 more hours..

bokuto!

rough-nice sex, fucks you dumb for sure, very prideful in his abilities and makes you you dont hold your voice back, make you make eye contact with third party, either really nice or really mean no in between, but i live for unknowingly and unwillingly rough bokuto so

kinda awkward about it, you were like his third girlfriend, and first ever actual serious once, adrenaline hits him and he ends up having his whole team watch him rail your poor small body. bokuto had learned alot from kuroo and oikawa about sex, so he decided this was a good opportunity to demonstrate his newly found skills. he asked his teammates to come over to his apartment, got them all to drink some beers and well..

“i know youve all been eyeing, y/n over here. so ill show you who she fuckin’ belongs to, but don’t hesitate to stroke yer dicks while you watch me absolutely fuck her dumb!” bokuto manhandled you into doggy, grabbing your arms and pulling them behind you back, thrusting in and out of you as deep as he could, whispering profanities into your ear. “fuckk, you like how der getting off to yer cute ass moans, huh? cmon.. be louder for them, let em know who’s responsible for this. fuck yeah, babygirl, t’day is alll about you.”

akaashi!

soft sex, would only let bokuto or tsukishima be the one watching you two, would worship you and brag about you to the other person while he fucked your brains out, overstimulation def, kinda gets a little toxic if the other person interacts.

akaashi was lowkey awkward about this too, but remained nonchalant, he had a talk with you to see if you would let bokuto be the one to watch you two, promising he wouldnt let him interrupt or touch you without your consent, he told you he had never been into any type of extreme kinks, so he apologized if he ended up deciding this wasnt for him, but swore he would try to make it work just to make you feel good.

“cmon princess, you can do better, why’re you getting shy on me now, hm?” he placed his hand on your head and ruffled your hair. you were down giving him a blowjob, with your legs spread open enough to let bokuto see you playing with your clit, desperate for some more friction. “mmm!” you muttered staring at akaashi with your puppy eyes. “im not, bokuto-san, touching you til you make me cum atleast twice. so get to work princess. you wanted this didnt you?” … “oh c’mon ‘kashi! dont be so mean” bokuto laughed loudly in the back.

atsumu!

possessive, would probably be mad at your for like half the day for suggesting it, but it grew on him, fast rough sex, lots of foreplay, teasing, and petnames.

“huuuhh?! why would you want sum rando watchin’ us fuck?” atsumu put if off for some days but the more he thought about it the more he found himself getting turned on by it. he set some rules, and had told you to go to a kink club since he didnt feel comfortable having anyone you both knew watch you, since you both only had a couple trusted people, and he was NOT gonna have his twin brother watch him fuck his girlfriend, let alone sakusa.

“look bae, all these people ‘round us comin’ just for you, see i told you you have the hottest fucking ass and tits ever.” he had you on top of him on one of the booth seats, you were jumping up and down on him and he took your nipples into his mouth. “fu-ck! ‘tsumu!! so good m gnna cumm~” you whined. “hell yeah baby, give em a show, aint gona stop til you start squirting like sum fuckin’ water sprinkler.” he laughed as he slapped your ass. “show em who’s yer fucking daddy, who’s making you feel good huh?” he breathed into your ear. “you-youyouyouyouyo-!! is you ‘tsumu youre so fuckin good at fucking my pussy daddy!!

osamu!

slow sex, praiiiiseeee, would probably only trust suna with you, would make suna touch you or something while he fucks you, asks if your okay during sex

he didn’t really know what to say when you had told him you found it hot to have someone watch you get fucked or something like a threesome, and he didnt wanna weird you out so he said you could try it out to see if he liked it as well. and he called up his buddy suna to help out!

“fuckk, yer tits taste so good, feels js like marshmallows, cutie.” suna said just below a whisper as he fondled your left boob and sucked on your right one. “mmm princess, your so tight, you feel so good yk that? you’re so perfect and beautiful like this.. making me wanna cum just from yer face.” osamu said as he had you in missionary, thrusting slowly but deep into your aching cunt. suna reached down to rub circles on your clit, “fuck, keep doing that suna, she just got so much tighter.”

suna!

literal virgin killer, casual sex, with some teasing & degradation, would be one to suggest this if you hadnt beaten him to it, down for anything but just doesnt admit it, literal definition of a freak undercover, lowkey would let anyone watch you two but just not touch you (imagine like anyone u want rlly)

“fuckk, keep fuckin yourself on my dick just like that, you have no idea how tight you feel, ma.” he had you facing the person while you fucked yourself dumb on his cock, going up and down. “play with yer boobs while they bounce, pretty. show em how sexy you can be, kay? put on a reaal pretty face, babygirl.”

[michaelsfavgirl]

through the keyhole

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Synopsis: While Michael attends to his duties as a devoted husband (taking you to pound town), the maids arrive unnoticed. Drawn by the sinful sounds echoing from your bedroom, they find themselves unable to resist eavesdropping.

Tags: smut, established-relationship (y'all are married <3), OCs, p in v, mating press, voyeurism, creampie, overstimulation, oral (fem receiving), fingering, lots of drama, legal ramifications, mike being the worlds no. 1 husband.

Word Count: 7.2k

Requested: yes/no

Author’s Note: Although I'm proud of this, the writing process for this was hell! But anyway, I need detailed reports on what y'all think about everything as compensation, thank you very much.

Links: navigation | masterlist | taglist

The noise of the curtains fluttering from the warm wind and the quiet chatter of the TV wakes you from your slumber. It's most definitely way past the acceptable time for a lie-in, probably closer to noon, but you don't care. With the way last night ended, with shared moans bouncing off the walls, no one could blame you. He had been so desperate for your touch after shutting himself in the studio for hours, hungrily taking you again and again until you couldn't string sentences together anymore.

Speaking of the incubus himself, as you open your eyes, before you can even muster up the strength to stretch your sore limbs, you're met with a tantalizing sight of Michael sprawled out on the bed next to you, absentmindedly watching the television. He's leaning against a pillow propped up against the headboard, completely nude. This isn't surprising, but what captures your attention is his soft and heavy length resting enticingly against his thigh, looking as delicious as ever. You try to ignore the slickness pooling between your thighs.

His cock is a sight to behold, thick and veiny, with a prominent ridge running along the underside. The head, peeks out from his uncut foreskin, is swollen and glistening with remnants of your previous night's activities. You  can't tear your eyes away from it, from the way it lays there just waiting for your touch.

You groan inwardly. How is he so nonchalant about this? How can he just sit there, so casually, with his massive cock on full display? Doesn't he know what effect it has on you, how it makes you crave him like nothing else?

You keep staring shamelessly, your eyes trailing every little detail. In your already fuzzy state, you don't notice Michael glancing at you, an amused smile growing on his face as he follows your half-lidded gaze.

Teasingly, he readjusts his body, making his hips thrust upwards slightly, causing his thick cock to bounce a little. You whimper quietly, but loud enough for him to hear. That sound doesn't even register in your mind until you hear him chuckle. Your eyes dart upwards to his face, feeling your cheeks grow hotter under his amused gaze.

"Enjoying the view, huh?" he teases, and you quickly turn onto your back, facing the opposite direction to avoid his stare.

"None of that," he murmurs, reaching over to cup your face and gently turn your gaze back to him. "Look at me."

And you do. Goodness gracious, how does he manage to be so gorgeous even with his curls messily framing his face? Your eyes linger on his lips as you try not to look directly into his eyes. The corner of his mouth twitches into a smirk as he gently positions your face higher, silently commanding you to meet his gaze.

His long fingers trace your cheeks as he brings your faces closer together, forehead to forehead, noses bumping. He leaves the softest of kisses on your cheeks before pressing his lips to yours. The kiss is slow and unrushed; he doesn't even bother moving his lips much, just softly keeps them pressed against yours.

"Did you sleep well, baby?" he asks after pulling away, making you unconsciously lean in for more. You nod and nuzzle your cheek deeper into his warm palm. "Yeah? I'm not too surprised," he says, trying to suppress a smirk. You had fallen asleep last night while he was cleaning you up during aftercare, that's how thoroughly he had tired you out, but it's not like you're complaining. You playfully hit his chest..

Michael's chuckle rumbles through his chest, vibrating against your skin as you lay there, feeling the warmth of his body seeping into yours. He shifts slightly, the movement drawing your eyes back down to his impressive length. He notices and smirks again, his hand moving to gently guide your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze once more.

"I know what you’re thinking about," he begins, his voice a low, seductive purr, “know what you’re craving."

Your breath hitches at his words, the passion in his eyes making your heart flutter. His thumb strokes your cheek, and he leans in, pressing another tender but more heated kiss to your lips. The kiss deepens this time, his tongue gently parting your lips, exploring your mouth with a languid passion that leaves you breathless. When he pulls away, his eyes are dark with desire.

His hands trail from your hips to your naked pussy, cupping it in his large palm, feeling the warm skin against his hand. The sensation sends a shiver up your spine, making you gasp. His finger slips through your folds, gliding between your glistening flesh with ease. He chuckles softly, his breath warm against your ear, "Always so needy, aren't you?"

Before you can respond with an eye roll at his usual teasing, he moves on top of you, spreading your thighs wide. Your breath catches in your throat as you look up at him. He groans at the sight of your drenched pussy, marveling at it for what feels like an eternity. His eyes hungrily stare at your already pulsing clit, desperately begging for attention.

 "Do I have to fuck you every morning for you to function properly?"

Your heartbeat quickens at his words, your hips bucking towards him instinctively. He spreads your thighs even farther apart, shushing your whines with an authoritative raise of his brows. "You know what to say," he prompts, his voice low and commanding.

"...Please touch me," you murmur shyly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He decides to tease you further, enjoying the power he has over you, "What was that? I didn't quite hear you."

"Please, Michael," you beg, a little louder this time, "please fuck me."

"That's more like it," he says with a satisfied expression, taking in your already needy state before reaching over to his nightstand. He opens the top drawer and grabs a bottle of lube, squirting a generous amount onto his lengthy shaft. He strokes his cock a few times, ensuring it's well-lubricated. Without the lube, it's impossible for him to ever make love to you without unwanted pain; he's just too big. Whatever's left on his fingers he spreads it across your already glossy folds, circling your hole for longer than is necessary. 

He gives you a look, silently making sure you still want this. After you nod enthusiastically he positions himself at your tight entrance, dragging his swollen tip up and down your flesh before gently pushing in the head, watching as your cunt stretches around him. With the events of last night, it's not as difficult as it might have been otherwise. His cockhead slips past your folds with ease, and you already feel yourself clenching around him.

"Needy girl," he murmurs under his breath, his voice thick with desire.

He torturously slowly slides half of his cock into your wetness and pulls out. Repeating this endlessly until his fat length is fully swallowed by your greedy pussy, “There we go,” he breathes out at finally watching your folds stretch around his thickness. His prominent veins deliciously rub against your slick walls, eliciting breathless moans from your lips. Your eyes flutter from the stretch, the sensation overwhelming, head pressing deeper into the plush pillow.

He steals a peck from your lips and squeezes your hips. He thrusts slowly at first, hips grinding smoothly at a mellow pace, savoring every inch of you. Consequently, making you think he's going to go easy on you but when has Michael Jackson ever been predictable?

At a speed that has your eyes widening he presses you further into the bed, folding your legs closer to your shoulders, putting you in a deep mating press that leaves you breathless. Before you can utter more than his name, he drives his hips against the back of your thighs, completely filling you up. “Jesus fucking christ Michael.” you choked out.

He picks up the pace, ramming his meaty cock into your squelching pussy. Your essence creates a white ring around his base, making him groan in pleasure. This new angle allows you to feel every inch of him deeper and deeper inside you. You can't control yourself, your moans growing louder and louder. Your eyes screwed shut, mouth hanging open as filthy whines and moans escape.

As he keeps pounding you into the mattress, he looks at your face and almost cums on the spot. The sounds in the bedroom are sinful - a mix of your moans and his grunts blending together, the bed banging against the wall with every hard thrust of his hips, skin slapping rhythmically.

"Look at you, already going dumb on my cock," he awes, his voice full of adoration.

You nod while not quite sure what you’re agreeing to, his words barely registering in your mind through the haze of pleasure. His smirk widens at your response, watching your nails dig into the sheets. The room starts to fill with the smell of sex, the musky scent only turning him on more.

He continues to fuck you fast and hard, his coily pubic hair rubbing against your throbbing clit, making your hips buck, chasing more of that sweet friction. Your moans grow louder, and if his cock wasn't so good, you'd try to be quieter. But all you can think about is how good he feels inside you, stretching you, filling you completely.

Your heavenly sounds drive him wild, he loves how in the mornings your sleepiness makes you more uninhibited, your cries ringing through his ears. But still, he decides to reach over towards the remote, turning up the volume of the TV to drown out the noises. Although he's never cared about the maids or security hearing him, he knows that when you come down from your high, you'll appreciate this gesture. 

As you both lose yourselves in the throes of passion, the maids: Annie, Susie, and Diana make their way towards the entrance of the sprawling estate for their weekly cleaning duties. The warm rays of the sun cast a serene ambiance over the grounds, punctuated by the tranquil chirping of birds, blissfully masking the storm of debauchery that awaits them inside.

"You know, I still can't believe they faked everything," Susie remarks, squinting against the sunlight.

"I'm actually not that surprised, they always seemed fishy to me," Annie replies and smiles at Susie’s scrunched up face.

"Come on now, they named themselves Milli Vanilli, what kind of name is that?" Diana chimes in, adding her two cents to the conversation.

As they ascend the doorsteps and open the front door, entering the home, Annie continues her thought, "I mean, all singers lip-sync now. They're just the ones that got ca—"

Diana abruptly pinches Annie’s arm, cutting her off with a sharp sting, "Ow, what the hell—"

"Girl, shush!" Diana whispers urgently, motioning for silence.

The three maids strain their ears, their attention drawn by the unmistakable erotic sounds emanating from the bedroom—a rhythm of skin slapping against skin, accentuated by soft moans and gasps. Susie instinctively covers her mouth, freezing in place with wide eyes. None of them move a muscle as they process what they are hearing.

"Are they…?" Annie starts tentatively.

"Oh, absolutely." With wide eyes they exchange shocked glances. None of them move a muscle, unsure how to handle the unexpected discovery. Honestly how do you go about stumbling across your boss fucking his wife? 

Diana, always the boldest of the trio, begins to tiptoe toward the hallway leading to the bedroom, prompting panicked whispers from the others.

"Diana! What are you doing?" Annie hisses urgently.

Rolling her eyes, Diana smirks back at them. "As if you two aren't just as curious," she retorts, continuing her stealthy approach toward the imposing double doors that shield a scene of raw intimacy unfolding behind them. Annie and Susie exchange resigned groans but follow cautiously behind.

Pressing their ears against the wood, they strain to catch every moan and whispered utterance, their curiosity piqued despite the scandalous nature of their eavesdropping.

"This is crazy," Susie breathes out in a hushed voice.

Unaware of the maids' clandestine surveillance, Michael drives into you with unrelenting force, his powerful hips slamming with yours in a relentless rhythm. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, your senses overwhelmed by the delicious sensation of every ridge and vein of his cock stretching you to your limits. Your back arches instinctively, your slick walls gripping him tightly, sucking him deeper into your warmth.

"Greedy fucking pussy," Michael's voice groans with desire, strained with the effort of holding back. he mutters, the words laced with need. "Squeezing me so tight."

"P-please," you stutter, your voice barely a whisper amid the relentless assault of his powerful thrusts. "It’s too much."

"You can take it," he growls, his breath hot against your skin as he leans closer, his chain dangling temptingly in front of your face. "I know you can. You’re my good girl." His movements are deliberate, claiming you completely.

In a moment of pure instinct, you gently bite his shoulder, your nails digging into his skin as pleasure overtakes you. The bed beneath you rocks with each forceful rock of his hips, the headboard banging rhythmically against the wall. The murmur of the TV in the background does little to mask the crescendo of your combined moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin.

He adjusts his position slightly, angling his length to hit that sweet spot deep inside you. Your entire body trembles with the promise of release, his warm breath against your neck adding to the overwhelming sensations flooding your senses.

Meanwhile, outside the bedroom, Susie murmurs breathlessly, "Y’all hearing this shit?" Her pulse quickens with excitement. "I’ve never heard anything like it."

"That damn TV, can’t hear anything," Diana complains, pressing her ear harder against the wall in a futile attempt to drown out the sounds from within.

"They're really going at it, huh?" Annie whispers, trying to stifle a chuckle. "Didn't know Mr. Jackson had it in him." Her eyes widen with playful astonishment. "I mean, I knew he was passionate, but this...?"

"Lord forgive me for sinning," Susie quips, crossing herself dramatically as Diana giggles at her theatrics. "Oh, stop it, you."

"And half the country thinks he's a virgin," Annie adds with a sly grin. "Isn't that ironic?" Their cheeky banter fades as they're filled with arousal and a twinge of envy, listening intently to the man they've all undoubtedly fantasized about, lost in passion with his beloved behind closed doors.

Back in the bedroom, Michael pulls back to look into your eyes, his own darkened with lust. He grips your jaw and "You like that, baby? You like being fucked like this?" His words send shivers down your spine, your gummy walls instantly tighten around him.

"Yes," you gasp, your voice breaking with need. "God, yes."

"I want you to make a mess on my cock," he murmurs, his voice low and commanding, igniting a fresh wave of heat within you. "Can you do that for me, sweetheart?" You nod eagerly, breathless whimpers escaping your lips.

"Listen to how loud she's moaning," Annie murmurs from outside, her voice tinged with envy. "She must be feeling real good."

As you approach the brink of release, Michael grins devilishly, his movements becoming almost frantic to draw out the exquisite tension building between you. With every plunge of his fat cock sliding deeper and deeper, kissing your cervix, your legs tremble, your body quivering as you hurtle toward release. You cry out as your orgasm rips through you, driving you to a point of true wanton. Uninhibited, sinful moans echo through the room as you claw at the sheets.

Unable to handle your pulsing walls clinging to him he pounds you into the mattress, chasing his own high. As your body is covered in a thin sheen of sweat you try to calm down but the feeling on his bulbous tip flooding your pussy with his hot spurts of cum pushes you towards overstimulation. He sucks love marks on your neck to stifle his groans, as he feels his voluminous cum fill you up completely. He doesn't slow down, riding out your climax, driving you higher and higher until you're nothing but a trembling, incoherent mess beneath him.

Outside, the maids are spellbound, ears pressed against the door, their own breaths quickening in unison with yours.

"Oh my fucking God," Susie whispers, barely audible over the symphony of pleasure spilling from the bedroom. 

"Shh!" 

The maids, captivated, listen intently to your gasps as you climax. They wait a few more moments, taking in the heavy breathing and murmurs of endearment between you and Michael. Once the sounds start to subside, Diana gestures for them to move. “We should get out of here before they catch us.” 

“Uh huh,” Susie agrees, her voice trembling slightly. They tiptoe away from the door, retreating to an empty room down the hall, locking themselves in.

Once inside, they're all breathing heavily, heart pounding in their chests. The air is thick with anticipation, their faces flushed with arousal.

"I- uh…holy shit," Susie’s voice is hushed but tinged with excitement. "She was so loud."

"No shit," Annie replies, her own breath still coming in short bursts. "I mean, it sounded like he was breaking her in half."

“You reckon his dick is really as big as they say?” 

“Jesus Christ D, give us a moment to breathe.”

“I’m just saying, that girl’s always so quiet and sweet you know? Don’t think she’d be the type to fake her moans unless that dick is real good.'' Diana shrugs with a little grin on her face.

Susie fans herself with her hands, trying to cool down. “Yeah that's true, she’s always blushing and looking down when she talks to us, but here she is taking all that from him.”

Annie tries to be civil about all this but can’t help but add, “you think they go at it all the time?”

Diana’s grin grows wider as she nods. “You know it ain’t just a quick thing either, he probably takes his time too, making sure she’s thoroughly satisfied.”

“Lucky girl. I wouldn't mind being in her shoes,” Susie says dreamily.

Diana leans against the door, a mischievous glint in her eye. "You and me both,” she continues, “I gotta say, we have to do that again."

Annie looks at her, bewildered. "Are you crazy? We can’t just stand outside their door listening to them fuck."

Diana rolls her eyes. "Oh, come on. With how hard they were going at it, it's not far-fetched to think they'll do it again tonight. We should wait till they go back to their bedroom and listen in again."

"Absolutely not," Annie insists, crossing her arms defiantly. "That's crossing a line."

But Diana persists, knowing the curiosity and desire are mutual. "Oh, stop with this fake righteous act, y’all liked it, admit it."

Annie looks to Susie for support, but she just shrugs, clearly intrigued by the idea. Diana smirks, sensing victory. "See? Even Susie wants more." Susie, usually the shy one, surprises Annie by siding with Diana. "I mean… It was kinda hot.”

Annie huffs but doesn't entirely reject the idea. Diana’s enthusiasm is infectious, and deep down, Annie knows she’s curious too. "Fine. But how are we gonna do it without getting caught?"

Diana’s smirk grows wider. "We just gotta be smart about it. We know their routine. Once they’re back in the bedroom tonight, we’ll sneak up and listen. Simple." 

Annie finally relents, though still cautious. "If we get caught, it’s on you, D."

Diana grins, clearly enjoying the thrill. "Trust me, it'll be worth it." The three of them continue to hash out their plot, excitement hanging thick in the air.

The trio finally compose themselves after their illicit eavesdropping and gossip session, deciding it's time to actually get to work. They set about their cleaning tasks, though the air between them crackles with the shared secret. Every now and then, one of them breaks the silence with a hushed comment or a knowing glance, the earlier events still fresh in their minds.

As they tidy the living room, the sound of a door opening draws their attention. Michael and you emerge from the bedroom, your body language relaxed and content, a stark contrast to the intense passion that had filled the room earlier. Michael's arm drapes protectively around your waist as he guides you towards the kitchen, his touch gentle and reassuring.

The maids exchange glances, curiosity piqued once more. "Look at them," Susie whispers, her voice barely above a breath. "She looks so satisfied."

Annie, ever the observant one, nods and without looking up continues to do her job. "Bet she is.”

Diana snickers. "Yeah, she looks fucked out, she was moaning so loud. Damn near broke my eardrums." if they hadn't heard your desperate pleas and whimpers they’d definitely find it hard to question your innocence.

From their vantage point in the living room, they peek into the kitchen. You sit down heavily on one of the chairs, your body spent and exhausted, fingers lazily tracing random patterns on the marble counter as you lean your head on your arm . Michael kisses the top of your head and moves with practiced ease, starting to prepare a quick meal for you. His movements are efficient yet tender, his focus solely on making sure you're taken care of.

As you absentmindedly glance around, your eyes meet Susie's. You smile gently and give her a small wave. For a moment, there's a flash of recognition in her widened eyes before she quickly returns the greeting with a shy nod. She turns back to Annie and Diana, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"She saw me," Susie whispers, her voice a mixture of panic and excitement. "She smiled and waved."

Diana snorts. "Probably too blissed out to care. Look at her. She’s got that post-fuck glow."

Annie rolls her eyes, but a small smile plays on her lips. "You two are incorrigible. But yeah, she does look pretty content."

The trio continues their cleaning, though their attention frequently strays back to the kitchen. They can't help but watch as Michael moves about, his focus unwavering as he prepares something for you. Every now and then, he glances your way, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

"He’s so attentive," Annie murmurs, almost to herself. "I mean, he just spent all that time… you know… and now he’s making sure she’s okay. That’s so sweet."

Diana smirks. "Yeah, he’s definitely got enough left in him for round two tonight. I can tell.” 

Susie bites her lip, clearly torn between embarrassment and curiosity. "I just hope we don't get caught."

As they continue to clean, their whispers and giggles fill the room, the earlier intensity of their task somewhat forgotten in light of their newfound entertainment. They dust the same shelves over and over again just because the view of the kitchen is by far the best from that specific angle. The sight of you and Michael in the kitchen, a picture of post-coital domesticity, only fuels their fascination.

Michael, sensing your exhaustion, walks over to you with a plate of food. "Here you go, sweetheart," he says softly, placing the plate in front of you. "You need to eat something."

You smile up at him, your gratitude evident in your eyes. He smiles and sits down next to you, watching you with adoring eyes.

The maids watch this exchange with keen interest. "He’s so good to her," Susie whispers, a note of envy in her voice.

Diana rolls her eyes playfully. "Of course he is. You heard how he was talking to her. ‘You’re my good girl,’" she mimics, her voice dripping with mock lust. "He’s got her wrapped around his finger."

Annie, who has been silent for a while, finally speaks up. "You know, maybe we shouldn’t be talking about them like this. It’s kind of… invasive."

Diana rolls her eyes. "Oh my god, Annie. Live a little. They’re not gonna find out. Besides, it’s not like we’re hurting anyone."

They continue their tasks, though their eyes frequently stray back to the kitchen. The atmosphere is charged with a mix of lingering arousal and the thrill of having witnessed something so private. As they finish up in the living room and move to another part of the house, they can’t help but continue their whispered conversation. "So, we’re still following through with the plan?" Susie asks, her voice tinged with anticipation.

Diana grins. "mhm."

Annie shakes her head, though a small smile plays at her lips. "You two are crazy. But fine. Just this once more, we’re not doing it again."

The trio shares a conspiratorial laugh, their bond strengthened by their shared secret. As they go about their tasks, their minds are already anticipating the evening, eager to once again be a part of the passionate world they had stumbled upon.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, you finish your meal, your energy slowly returning. Michael sits next to you, his hand resting on your thigh, a silent reassurance of his presence.

You lean into him, your head resting on his shoulder. "Thank you," you murmur, your voice soft.

He presses a kiss to your temple. "Anything for you, baby. You know that."

As the day wears on, You both spend the day lounging around the house, basking in the simplicity of each other's company. The day has been a rare gift of leisure, a precious break from Michael's usually hectic schedule. The sun sets lazily, casting a warm glow over everything.

The trio finds themselves looking forward to the evening, their curiosity and desire rekindled. The thrill of the forbidden being too intoxicating to resist.

As the day winds down and evening settles in, the maids finish their duties and prepare to leave. Michael politely, walks them to the door. "Goodnight, ladies," he says with a charming smile.

"Goodnight, Mr. Jackson," they reply, trying to keep their voices steady. They share a quick glance, the events of the day still fresh in their minds, and attempt to leave casually. As the door shuts behind them they walk down the path they’d usually take to return home but they make a turn to the right, making their way towards the back of the house.

You are already in bed, lounging in a tank top and panties, the warm weather prompting you to kick the covers off playfully. The soft light of the setting sun filters through the curtains, casting a golden hue over the room.

Michael steps into the bedroom, locking the door behind him, his gaze finding you instantly. You turn your head towards him and smile, your hand constantly reaching towards his direction, the sight of him filling you with warmth. He shakes his head teasingly as he pulls the covers back onto the bed.

"You always do this," he shakes his head, his voice filled with affection.

You watch him intently as he undresses, his movements slow and deliberate. He strips down to his boxers, revealing his toned physique, and you can’t help but feel a surge of desire. Your eyes are hungry, taking in every inch of his body which is draped in golden sun rays.

He slides into bed next to you, his presence comforting. He gently coos, "Are you feeling hot, baby?" His hand finds your hip, kneading it softly, feeling the soft, warm skin under his palm.

You nod, your eyes half-lidded with desire and mischief. Taking his hand, you guide it down between your legs, pressing his fingers harder against your clothed clit. "I am," you murmur, your voice barely a whisper, signaling where exactly you’re feeling hot.

He chuckles, a low, knowing sound. "You're insatiable," he teases, his fingers starting to move in slow, tantalizing circles. The fabric unsurprisingly dampening in an instant.

Your eyes flutter from the slight pressure and you spread your legs wider, inviting him in. "You love it," you counter with a small smile.

He smirks and admits, moving between your spread thighs, his fingers hooking under your panties and slowly pulling them off. He casually lets them fall on the floor as his eyes are immediately glued to your weeping cunt, already salivating at the view.

Meanwhile, in the backyard, the maids have been waiting, the anticipation building. Diana, ever the ringleader, whispers, "It’s time." They tiptoe towards your patio which is connected to your bedroom. They crouch down next to the glass doors, holding their breath as they try to peer inside without making their presence known. The house is quiet, the only sounds coming from within the intimate space you and Michael share. They inch closer, their breaths shallow and hearts pounding, the thrill of voyeurism electrifying their senses.

Inside the bedroom, the atmosphere is intimate and calm compared to the morning's intensity. Michael lays on his front, his face inches from your glistening pussy, still leaking with his cum from earlier. He bites his lip at the sight, the raw desire in his eyes making you shiver with anticipation.

He gently slides his middle finger into your hole, pushing his cum deeper inside you. "Look at you, so full of me," he murmurs, his voice low and sultry. "Such a good girl, taking everything I give you."

You moan softly, the sensation of his finger inside you making your body hum with pleasure. He parts your glossy folds with his fingers, exposing your sensitive clit. Leaning in, he suckles on the bud, rolling it in his mouth with expert precision.

Peering through the glass, their eyes widen as they take in the sight before them. Michael is between your legs, his face buried in your pussy, his tongue working you with a slow, deliberate rhythm. Your eyes are shut tight, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as he devours you. The soft glow from the bedside lamp casts a warm light over the scene, highlighting every intimate detail.

"God, seeing it is so much better than just listening," Susie whispers, her voice a mix of awe and arousal.

They press against each other, jostling quietly for the best view. Michael's focus is entirely on you, his eyes closed as he savors your taste, his tongue flicking over your clit with expert precision. The way he worships your body is mesmerizing, each movement filled with intent and passion.

Suddenly, Michael pulls away with a wet pop, your juices glistening on his lips and chin. You whine at the loss of contact, your body trembling with need. "Shh, baby," he soothes, replacing his tongue with his thumb, pressing it against your swollen clit and rubbing gentle circles.

The maids hold their breath, their eyes glued to the scene. Michael prods two fingers against your entrance, teasing you before slowly sliding them in. He breathes in deeply, savoring your scent as his fingers begin to scissor inside you, stretching your tight walls. His wedding band glistens, drenched in your slick, as he pumps his fingers in and out with a steady rhythm, the cold metal adding to the pleasure.

Susie, filled with envy and arousal, leans closer to Annie. "I've never seen a man eat pussy this good," she whispers, her voice tinged with longing. 

"He definitely knows where the clit is." Annie giggles and adds.

Diana, unable to contain her excitement, groans softly. "When is he going to take out his cock and fuck her?" she hisses, her eyes locked on the sight of Michael's fingers disappearing inside you.

Annie glares at her. "Oh, I'm sorry, is watching this not enough for you?" she snaps quietly.

Michael's fingers work their magic, the squelching noises filling the room as you whimper and buck your hips against his skilled hands. He watches you intently, his eyes dark with lust, enjoying the way you respond to his touch. "You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "My girl."

Your whimpers turn into moans, your body arching off the bed as he brings you closer to the edge. "Michael, please," you beg, your voice a breathy whisper.

He leans in, his breath hot against your skin, leaving hickeys along your inner thighs. "What is it, baby?" he asks, his thumb pressing harder against your clit.

"Wanna cum," you gasp, your hands gripping the sheets tightly.

He smirks, his fingers curling inside you to hit that sweet spot. "Then come for me, sweet girl," he whispers, his voice a low growl.

The maids watch in rapt attention, their own bodies reacting to the scene before them. Susie's cheeks are flushed, her breath quickening. "I can't believe we're actually seeing it this time," she whispers, her voice trembling with excitement.

"Look at how he handles her. It's like he knows exactly what she needs." Annie breathes, her eyes wide with awe.

Diana, her frustration mounting, shifts restlessly. "I want to see him fuck her," she insists, her voice a low whine. "Wanna see what his cock looks like."

Annie shoots her a sharp look. "Just be patient," she snaps. "Enjoy what we're seeing now."

Inside the room, Michael's fingers move faster, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit. Your moans grow louder, your body trembling with the intensity of your impending orgasm. "I- I’m close" you cry out, your voice breaking with need.

"There there," he murmurs, his fingers never faltering. "Let go for me. Cum all over my fingers."

With a final flick of his tongue and a deep thrust of his fingers, you shatter. Your orgasm crashes over you, your body convulsing with pleasure. Michael holds you through it, his mouth and fingers never ceasing their movements, prolonging your release until you are spent and trembling.

The maids are transfixed, their own arousal palpable. "y’all…" Susie whispers, her voice filled with need. "I didn't even know it was possible to cum that hard just from fingers."

Annie nods, her eyes still fixed on the scene before her. "He’s Michael Jackson, what did you expect," she murmurs. 

Diana, her eyes dark with lust, can barely contain herself. "I want to see more," she insists, her voice a desperate whisper.

As you come down from your high, panting, Michael gently withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips. "You taste so good," he purrs, his eyes locked on yours. You stretch weakly, your body still trembling. Michael licks his drenched fingers, savoring your taste as his eyes lock onto yours with a smoldering intensity. He leans in to give your clit a soft, lingering kiss, a gesture of tenderness. 

As he moves off the bed to take off his boxers, you whimper from the loss of contact, your body still trembling from the recent orgasm. You always become so clingy afterward, seeking his warmth and touch even if it's scorching hot outside.

“I’m right here, baby,” he coos gently, his voice soothing as he pulls down his boxers, freeing his throbbing cock. The maids, hidden just outside the glass doors, gasp in unison at the sight. Michael’s heavy shaft sways with his every move, a sight both impressive and intimidating.

“Goodness gracious, that thing is massive,” Diana whispers, her eyes wide with arousal.

The others nod, their mouths hanging open in shock. “No wonder she always looks so happy,” Susie murmurs. “It’s hard not to when your man’s packing like that.”

Annie notices Diana’s hazy expression, her eyes glued to Michael’s meaty cock as she licks her lips. Annie nudges her sharply. “Stop drooling, Diana.”

Susie giggles, trying to stifle the sound. “Yeah, you look like you just came.”

Diana shoots them a side-eye, irritated but unable to tear her gaze away from Michael as he strokes his meaty shaft, preparing himself. She unconsciously leans forward, hands pressing against the glass doors, her desire overriding her sense of caution. The door creaks in the silent room, a loud and unmistakable sound.

Annie, eyes wide with realization, hisses urgently, “Wait, no!”

But it’s too late. Packed together like sardines, when Diana pushes forward, the glass doors swing open, and they all tumble into the room with a loud, resounding thud. The sudden intrusion shatters the intimate atmosphere, and for a moment, time seems to freeze.

You gasp in horror, your eyes wide as you scramble to cover yourself. Michael’s head snaps around, his expression shifting from surprise to fury as he sees the maids he had just bid goodnight to, now sprawled awkwardly on the floor. They remain frozen, their eyes wide with horror at having been caught.

“Fuck,” Annie whispers, the word barely audible but carrying the weight of their collective dread.

Michael’s eyes blaze with anger, but his first instinct is to protect you. He immediately grabs the covers and drapes them over your body, shielding you from their prying eyes. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, whispering, “Stay here.”

You try to argue, your voice trembling, “But Michael-”

He cuts you off with a commanding look, one you don’t often see, filled with authority and protectiveness. “I said stay,” he repeats firmly.

Nodding obediently, you clutch the sheets closer to your face, your heart pounding in your chest. Michael turns halfway, careful not to expose himself completely, and fixes the maids with a venomously calm stare.

“Wait in my office,” he orders, his tone cold and tolerating no argument.

The trio stares dumbly for a few seconds, processing his words before they scramble to their feet, tripping over themselves in their haste to leave. Broken apologies tumble from their lips as they run out of the room, their faces flushed with shame and embarrassment.

Once they’re gone, Michael turns back to you, his expression softening. “Are you okay?” he asks gently, his hands cupping your face.

You nod, though your heart is still racing. “I guess…I'm just shocked.”

“I’ll take care of this,” he promises, his voice filled with a protective resolve. He kisses your forehead again, then stands, pulling on his discarded boxers and trousers. “Stay here and try to relax, okay?”

You nod again, watching him as he leaves the room, your anxiety mixing with a strange sense of reassurance at his presence.

Michael leaves you in the bedroom, his heart heavy with both fury and a fierce protectiveness. As he walks down the hallway, the moonlight filters through the windows, casting long shadows and illuminating his path. Each step he takes echoes softly against the wooden floor, the sound mingling with the seething rage that burns within him. His fists clench and unclench at his sides, every muscle in his body taut with anger.

In the office, the maids are huddled together, in a state of panic, their faces filled with dread. They had thought themselves clever, sneaking around to watch, but now the reality of their actions is sinking in.

“Oh my god, we’re so screwed,” Susie whispers, wringing her hands nervously.

Annie turns to Diana. "This was all your idea!" she hisses, her voice trembling with fear.

Diana glares back, her own nerves frayed. "Oh, don't you dare put this all on me! You wanted this as much as I did!"

Susie, caught in the middle, raises her hands in a futile attempt to calm them. "Guys, please, this isn’t the time. We need to stick together."

The door swings open, and they all jump, turning to see Michael standing in the doorway, his expression a mask of controlled fury. He steps into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click that feels like the final nail in their coffin.

“Explain yourselves,” he demands, his voice low and dangerous.

The maids exchange panicked glances, none of them wanting to be the first to speak. Finally, Annie steps forward, her voice trembling. “We... we’re so sorry, Mr. Jackson. We didn’t mean to intrude. We just...”

“Just what?” he snaps, his patience fraying. 

Susie whispers, her voice barely audible, "We were just curious..."

Michael raises his brows, his eyes narrowing. "Curious? Curious?!”  he repeats, louder this time. The word hangs in the air, heavy with disdain.

He loses his cool for a moment, his voice rising as he yells, "Are you out of your fucking minds?!"

The maids shudder, their fear palpable. They are totally fucked, and they know it. “We’re truly so sorry,” Annie stammers, her voice breaking. “We never meant for this to happen.”

Michael’s expression remains hard, his eyes cold as ice. “You think an apology is enough? You think saying sorry will fix this? You’ve breached a level of trust that’s hard to come back from.” Michael’s eyes bore into each of them, his disappointment palpable.

Michael takes a deep breath, trying to rein in his temper. “What gave you the brilliant idea to spy on us?”

There’s a heavy silence as none of them dare to speak. Michael’s patience wears thin. “I’m not going to repeat my question.”

Silence fills the room as the maids exchange terrified glances. Finally, Diana stutters, "We... we eavesdropped earlier this morning." Susie starts to tear up silently, her guilt and fear overwhelming her.

Michael breathes out heavily, the sound like a hiss through clenched teeth. "Sit," he commands, his tone brooking no argument.

They scramble to comply, their hands shaking as they take their seats. Michael retrieves a folder from the desk drawer, pulling out several documents and laying one in front of each of them with a pen.

"Sign," he says, the word clipped and devoid of any warmth.

Annie furrows her brows as she reads the document. It's a non-disclosure agreement. It hits her like a punch to the gut: he's making them sign NDAs to ensure they don't blabber about this to anyone, especially the press. Without reading through it, they all sign. Their hands shake so much that their signatures are barely legible. 

Michael retrieves the signed documents, his eyes never leaving theirs. He stares at them, his gaze hard and unforgiving. "Consider yourselves fired," he says, each word delivered with cutting precision.

The maids’ faces pale further, the reality of their actions hitting them like a sledgehammer. 

They swallow hard, nodding silently. Without needing further prompting, they rise from their seats and make their way out of the office, their footsteps heavy with the weight of their actions. As they exit the estate, the night air feels colder. As they walk down the long driveway and the gravity of their situation sinks in.

As they reach the gates, they look back at Neverland ranch one last time, the grandeur and beauty now a stark contrast to their current despair. They exit, their steps heavy and their minds filled with regret.

© michaelsfavgirl 2024

Taglist: @theladyinmoscow @yeriminist @yeaiamme2 @helloaugustmoon @cinnamoncunt @theladyofmylife @minekarina @kionaaa @theskinniestjackson-denny @leociinta @graciegizmo3184 @theasexual-jackson @mrsmikaelsxn @fallinlovewithevil @armasbw @b3rk1ey @sirusxx @maybe7tommorow @falllovesomemichealjackson @moonuoi @iconsmjj

[kookielips]

─ jeon jungkook (nsfw)

soft dom!jungkook x sub!reader

gender / tags: sexual content without a real plot, established relationship, pussy eating, fingering, f penetration, unprotected sex, slight aftercare, slight mention of sweat and other bodily fluids.

word count : 771

notes: english is not my first language, please take this into consideration and ignore any mistakes. let me know what to improve/if you liked it <3

"just one more, hmm?" you felt his breath on your neck, his fingers caressing the purple marks on your thighs "can you do this for me, baby? can you take one more finger?" you nodded quickly, seeing him tilt his head to place kisses below your navel, a smile appearing on his face as he felt you shiver.

he skillfully moved your body so that your legs rested on his shoulders, he kissed the inside of your thighs before his lips took your clit and simultaneously inserted another long finger into your cunt. the cold metal of the lip piercing made you shiver, his movements were slow, torturously too slow, which only made the knot in your stomach grow, offering no real relief other than the small sensation of pleasure that only accumulated into more lust. every time you thrust your hips towards him and let out another needy moan he would laugh teasingly against your spot, the vibrations it sends through your body almost being too much at that moment. jungkook was in no rush when it came to you, he would truly spend hours teasing you just to get these little desperate reactions from you.

when he eventually settled into a rhythm that could send you over the edge, he pulled away, his lips left your core and he retracted the wet fingers that were poking your g-spot, only to, hovering over you, stretch them towards you "suck it" his authoritative tone contrasted with the man who was laughing softly at you as he ate you out little by little, this duality it still impressed you. you did what he asked without thinking twice, tasting yourself, running your tongue around his fingers slowly "that's it". he smiled, satisfied, as he took off his own clothes and positioned his already leaking cock at your entrance.

jungkook loved this moment, where your bodies came together, he felt so close to you and so loved that he could come with just that thought. he enjoyed the short moments when he didn't move inside your hole as much as the moments he did, waiting for you to get used to it and relax around his length. he wanted to memorize everything, her face contorted in pleasure with the stretching of her pussy, her mouth slightly open, her breathing short, her nails digging into the sheet.

his hands slid down her body until they reached her breasts, he curled his hands around her around and gave it a light squeeze, getting a whimper from you. he skillfully played with your nipples between his fingers and began moving his hips against yours, fucking you expertly, the way he knew you liked it. he could be teasing when it came to foreplay, but he was relentless the moment he was inside you, chasing his own climax while doing his best to make you feel good too.

"oh, please!" the most pornographic noises left his mouth as he threw his head back, lost in the ecstasy you were making him feel, giving him a perfect view of his toned chest shining with sweat. he pulled her legs so they were better positioned around him, giving him a better angle to hit her. his tattooed hand grabbed your jaw and his thumb caressed your pink lips, a silent signal for you to open, that authority in your expression from earlier was visible now too. your eyes shone with lust as he pressed his thumb against your tongue gently, your eyebrows furrowed and you felt his dick twitch inside you.

his movements became more difficult, producing wet sounds that echoed through the room, his tip hitting your g-spot with each quick movement, that familiar feeling formed in his stomach. your vision became blurry and with a cry you came first, writhing in the sheets, your hands reaching for the headboard for stability. "i'm close" he came soon after, murmuring your name repeatedly, with last strong thrusts dumping his load inside you. he pulled away as soon as he regained consciousness just to watch, with his head half tilted and a satisfied expression, the mixture of fluids that stained the silk sheets as they left your cunt.

he sighed softly and left a lingering kiss on your forehead, his hands busy caressing your thighs. “you did so good for me, sweetheart, it was incredible” jungkook wrapped his arms around you, leaving kisses on your neck and the back of your head as he guided you to the bathroom for probably a second round.

[mortallydeepestobservation]

The holiday pretense -3-

Summary: Namjoon has never been a fan of the holidays. In fact, he could list more things that sucked about ‘The most wonderful time of the year’, than things that brought him joy. Yet, beneath his cynicism, a flicker of hope appeared this year, as the faint scent of homesickness hung in the air. Unfortunately, there’s one tiny little thing that keeps him from calling home- his lack of a girlfriend. But fear not; this holiday season, Namjoon’s smart mouth gets him in a situation where he has no choice but to approach you- his longtime friend and roommate- with an unexpected request. Pairing: Namjoon x f.reader Genre: fake-dating, friends to lovers/roommates to lovers au; crack, smut, fluff. Rating: explicit. Minors do not interact Warnings: every single trope in the book; but with a twist. Dialogue heavy. OC is really bad at lying. Things are slowly starting to unravel. Drinking and a drunken kiss Smut warnings: morning wood, hickeys. Word count: Chapter 3- 17k Credits: You already know @callmenoona25, is the reason I got back on track with this story. But what you may not know is the fact that she is also incredibly smart and creative, and brainstorming with her is one of the best things that could have happened to me✨ thank you for all your patience and help. Author's note: uh... so, the plan was to have this story completed by new years eve. funny how that worked out huh... but don't worry, we are closing in on the ending. Where we are standing now, there are just 2 more chapters to come. Because, lets be honest, how much more can these guys take?? part 1: here, part 2: here. part 3: reading, part 4: here

Oh, also, would anyone be interested in being added to a permanent tag list? I keep toying with the idea of making one, so if you're interested, hmu ig?

current tag lol @uniquetravelerone

Anyway. Merry Christmas?

You stirred tiredly, frowning at the sliver of light that had somehow managed to sneak through the only crack in the curtains and land directly in your eyes. It pulled you from your slumber far earlier than you deemed acceptable. With a soft groan, you tried to turn away, seeking solace from the intrusion—only to be stopped by a solid body pressed against you.

Namjoon’s arm was draped securely over your stomach, his hand having somehow wandered beneath your shirt during the night. The casual intimacy of the gesture jolted your groggy brain into overdrive, the last remnants of sleep dissolving in an instant.

You shifted again, this time cautiously, trying to gauge your situation, but the movement elicited a soft, low moan from Namjoon.

That’s when you felt it—his erection, firm and unmistakable, pressing against your ass. Your breath hitched instantly, the realization flooding through you in waves.

The warmth of his body pressed closely against yours, your legs tangled together, and the weight of his arm draped possessively over you made your heart pound violently against your ribcage. His hand, impossibly warm, splayed against your stomach, sending sparks of electricity skittering across your skin.

You bit your lip, utterly unsure of how to navigate the situation you found yourself in. Just as you began to plot your escape—or at least a way to breathe through the moment—Namjoon let out another sleepy sound, a low, gravelly hum that vibrated against your back. He shifted slightly, adjusting his hips, and with that movement, pressing his cock more firmly against your ass.

Heat surged to your cheeks, a wave of nervousness mingling with an undeniable spark of desire. Damn. He was big. You’ve always suspected as much, but now you knew.

And knowing only made the moment harder to ignore.

“Namjoon,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the room.

At the sound of his name, he stirred slightly, the grip on your waist tightening for a fleeting moment before he relaxed again. A sleepy mumble escaping his lips— something unintelligible, but the low timbre of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. You tried again, a little louder this time, but still soft enough not to startle him.

“Namjoon,” you repeated your heart thundering in your chest.

His response was a groggy grunt, and then, to your utter dismay—and maybe a little delight—he nuzzled his face against the back of your neck, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin.

Your face heat up even more at his senseless sleepy affection, and you struggled to cope with the current predicament that seemed to dawn only on you.

“Morning…” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep, his breath tickling the back of your neck.

“Uh, morning,” you managed to stammer, trying to keep your voice steady despite the sharp rise in your pulse. You weren’t sure whether to laugh, cry, or combust on the spot.

Namjoon didn’t seem fully awake yet, his hold on you tightening slightly as he murmured something that sounded like ‘gimme five more minutes’ against your shoulder. You placed your hand over his, gently trying to pry it off your stomach, but the action only made him tighten his hold and let out a contented sigh.

This was supposed to be simple. You’ve done this before—cuddled up during movie nights, casual and comfortable— but never has his hand wandered beneath your shirt, never before did you get to feel him quite like you were right now.

You were hyper-aware of every single point of contact, the heat of his body, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back, the very… noticeable evidence of his arousal still pressing insistently against you.

You struggled, torn between waking him fully or hoping he might shift away on his own.

But after a few seconds, seeing that he made absolutely no move to let you go, you ventured awkwardly.

“Are you…comfortable?”

He hummed softly, his fingers brushing absentmindedly against your stomach. “Mmh…yeah,” he muttered, still half-asleep.

Then, as if realization hit him like an avalanche, his body tensed.

“Fuck-” His arm jerked away as if he’d been burned, and he rolled onto his back with a groan, the sudden movement pulling the blanket askew. A rush of cold air immediately slipped under the blanket, biting at your skin and making you instantly regret every choice you made that led to this moment.

“My god.” He muttered, dragging a hand over his red face. “I-I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay,” you said quickly, trying to ease the tension, your own face burning. “You were asleep, it happens.”

Namjoon let out a nervous laugh, still covering his face. “No, no, it’s not okay! I-I didn’t mean to…”

“Really, it’s fine,” you reassured, trying to lighten the mood despite your racing heart. “It’s quite normal for men your age, right? Means you’re healthy and everything’s-”

“Oh my god, please stop talking.” Namjoon groaned, dragging both hands down his face as if that would somehow erase him from existence.

 “What? It’s true! It’s just biology. Natural instinct-”

“Please stop,” he interrupted, peeking at you from between his fingers, his ears now the colour of ripe tomatoes. “You’re not helping.”

“Okay, okay,” you relented, biting your lip to stifle the awkward laughter threatening to spill out. You turned your gaze to the ceiling, willing your own embarrassment to disappear, though the heat on your cheeks lingered stubbornly.

The two of you stayed quiet, the silence stretching long enough for the rhythmic sound of Namjoon’s breathing to steady and blend seamlessly with your own. The stillness should have been calming, but instead, it magnified the wild thrum of your pulse in your ears, a constant reminder of just how awkward this was.

You waited, hoping your heart would slow, that the tension coiling in your chest would dissipate. But the longer the silence stretched, the heavier it felt, like a fragile thread about to snap.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, you cleared your throat softly. 

“Seriously, though,” you said gently, “It’s fine. I’m not mad or anything.”

Namjoon let out a sharp exhale, finally dropping his hands to look over at you, his expression hovering somewhere between mortification and gratitude.

“You’re way too calm about this,” he said, shaking his head slightly, his voice still carrying the remnants of self-consciousness.

“Yeah, well,” you started, struggling to inject some nonchalance in your tone. “One of us has to be.”

A small, self-deprecating smile tugged at his lips as he sat up, running a hand through his already tousled hair. “You’re not going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Never!” you shot back with a grin, finally feeling the strange strain between you start to give.

“Great,” he muttered, shooting you a playful glare before pushing himself to his feet. With his back to you, he stretched lazily, his broad shoulders flexing with the movement.

“I’ll take a cold shower first, though, if you don’t mind.” He added, his voice carrying bit of nonchalance and amusement as he glanced over his shoulder at you.

You could only watch as he walked out of the room, his broad shoulders and confident stride disappearing through the doorway.

The moment he was out of sight, you let out a long, muffled groan, flopping back on the bed and burying your face in the pillow.

A swirl of emotions crashed over you —embarrassment, amusement, a flicker of regret, longing and something dangerously close to arousal. It was all too unsettling to fully acknowledge, leaving you in a confusing storm of emotions, their weight pressing down on you as heavily as his arm had mere moments ago.

The warmth of his presence lingered in the room, stubborn and inescapable. It clung to you, refusing to fade, making it impossible for your heart to actually slow down.

Get a grip, you told yourself. This doesn’t mean anything. It was an accident. A biological response. Nothing more.

The sound of the shower starting up jolted you out from your thoughts. You turned your head towards the closed bathroom door, watching as a faint curl of steam began to escape from beneath it.

 Stop thinking about it, you scolded yourself, but the image refused to leave. Namjoon under the spray of cold water, his head tipped back, rivulets of water streaming down his toned back… the thought send a fresh wave of warmth to your cheeks, and you buried your face in your hands.

No! Not this again. Saying the words out loud might not help, but you muttered them under your breath anyway, as if sheer force of will could be enough to break the cycle. You pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes. Focus on something else. Fast. 

But it was already too late. Your mind had betrayed you.

The moment from earlier replayed in vivid, torturous detail—the solid weight of his arm draped over you, his body pressed so closely against yours, the warmth of his hand resting so casually beneath your shirt. And then—as if your brain was determined to sabotage you further—the undeniable sensation of his cock, firm and insistent against you…

It all made it too easy for your mind to conjure images of him now, under the stream of water— each drop of water tracing its path down the expanse of his trim chest, the sharp lines of his collarbone, the defined strength in his thighs. Good god, his thighs.

And his shoulders, broad and commanding, perfect for digging your nails into. The curve of his arms, strong enough to hold you steady or pull you closer, each movement carrying that quiet confidence you couldn’t help but admire

You groaned again, louder this time, pressing your hands harder against your face as though you could scrub away the onslaught of thoughts. But the images lingered, refusing to simply be dismissed.

You haven’t felt this way since the early stages of your friendship, back when you harboured that stupid, fleeting crush.

Frustration bubbled to the surface—at yourself, at your stupidly overactive imagination, at the fact that none of this should even matter.

You were supposed to be pretending. Just pretending. So why the hell did it suddenly feel so real?

Why did he make you feel this way? His small, casual gestures—the brush of his hand against yours, the quiet laughter, even the soft mumbling in his sleep—were no longer just innocent moments. They were charged, electrifying, leaving you breathless and unsteady.

And the way he held you close when in public, the warmth and ease of it, like it was the most natural thing in the world. His genuine compliments that seemed to see straight through you. The way his gaze lingered, soft and intent, like you were the only person in the room. It was all maddening.

Unfamiliar.

Overwhelming.

Completely messing with your head.

The sound of water running in the background didn’t help. Because now you suddenly wondered if he was just standing there, letting the cold-water wash away the awkwardness, or if his thoughts were just as mangled as yours. Was he even thinking about you?

God, was he touching himself? He must, after all—

Stop it! You shook your head again, forcing yourself to breathe deeply.

This was Namjoon. The same Namjoon you’ve known for so long, your friend.  Not someone who had any business making your heart pound like this or set your skin alight with a simple look your way. 

This was the same Namjoon who forgot to take store receipts and napkins out of his jeans before tossing them the washer. The same Namjoon who broke a mug without even realizing it, too distracted by a conversation to notice the mess he made across the carpet.

The same Namjoon who tripped over his own shoelaces, then laughed about it like an adorable dork instead of getting embarrassed.

The sound of the water shutting off abruptly jolted you out of your spiralling thoughts, and you could hear him moving around in the bathroom. Your heart picking up again at the realization that maybe you weren’t that ready to face him again. You shut your eyes tight, willing yourself to calm down. Act normal. Nothing weird happened.

The door creaked open, and the fresh, earthy scent of his Cool Water shower gel wafted into the room. It hit you like a wave, freezing you in place as if your body had decided to betray you entirely.

Namjoon stepped out, his damp hair tousled messily, droplets still clinging to the strands and sliding down his neck. A loose t-shirt clung to his broad shoulders, the fabric soft and slightly damp, hinting at the toned frame beneath. Grey sweatpants rested low on his hips, completing the picture with an ease that felt unfair.

Your cheeks burned as a clear, unwelcome image flickered through your mind: your lips dragging along his damp skin, leaving a slow, heated path cross his neck, down his chest...

 You’re hopeless. Absolutely hopeless. You need to move out.

Namjoon walked over; his footsteps soft but deliberate. And before you could fully compose yourself, he leaned over your body to retrieve his phone from the nightstand.

The sudden closeness was dizzying, and he seemed completely oblivious to your internal meltdown. The warmth of his presence enveloped you, and the clean, minty scent of his toothpaste rendered you nearly catatonic.

“You good?” he asked, his voice low, almost too casual, his gaze meeting yours.

 “Yeah, yeah. Just... why are you still soaked?” you blurted, scrambling for any topic to defuse the tension threatening to suffocate you.

He glanced down at his damp shirt with a lopsided smile. “Didn’t feel like drying off properly. Why? Is it bothering you?”

Was it? Absolutely. But not for the reason he thought.

“It’s the middle of winter, Namjoon. You’ll catch a cold,” you shot back, your voice laced with feigned exasperations, hoping it masked the warmth creeping up your neck.

Namjoon raised an eyebrow, the barest flicker of amusement crossing his face as if he was holding back a smirk. “If you say so.” His tone was maddeningly calm, laced with a playful edge that made your stomach flip.

“I didn’t know you cared that much about me,” he added, his voice low, teasing and entirely too smug for your liking.

You opened your mouth to retort, but your brain short-circuited under the weight of his gaze—soft, warm, and far too knowing. It was as if he could see right through your attempt at deflection, straight into the chaos swirling beneath the surface.

“Someone has to,” you managed, crossing your arms in a last-ditch effort to look unaffected.

Namjoon didn’t move right away. He stayed above you for moment longer, his gaze fixed on your face, studying you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. The intensity of it made your cheeks heat again, through you tried your best to not show it.

 Finally, he stepped back with a shrug, breaking the tension like a twig. “I’ll go make us some coffee,” he said, slipping his phone into his pocket as he turned toward the door.

You exhaled shakily the moment he disappeared from view, your body sinking into the mattress, and you pressed a hand to your heart in a futile attempt to calm your racing heart.

Why did every interaction with him feel like a minefield these days?

But the warmth he’d left behind refused to dissipate, nestling deep in the space between your ribs, even as you stepped into the bathroom. Turning the water to its coldest setting, you braced yourself, hoping the icy spray could maybe douse the fire he’d unknowingly ignited within you.

 Goddamn it! You were an adult, perfectly capable of rationalizing your feelings. And logically, there was no reason to feel anything in particular about Namjoon.

Sure, he was effortlessly charming when he flirted, his sharp mind and quick wit made it hard not to admire him. And yes, the way his eyes seemed to burn into you, holding your gaze a little too long, was hard to ignore. But that was part of the act—part of the pretense.

And yet, there was something undeniably intoxicating about being on the receiving end of his affection, even if it was just for show. You’ve always secretly wondered what it would be like to be one of the women he pursued—those brilliant, breathtaking women who had him wrapped around their fingers. The ones who inspired grand, romantic gestures from him, the kind that left him stuttering and unsure in a way so unlike his usual self.

But that wasn’t you. It wasn’t then, and it certainly isn’t now.

You were here just to help him get through the holidays, nothing less, nothing more. The plan was already laid out, perfectly planned, and you couldn’t afford to let this mess with your head now.

Two days. That’s all you had left. And after that? Things would go back to normal.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself. Even though a small part of you wondered if that was even possible anymore.

You weren’t sure if you could go back to being just friends after this. Not when your heart was starting to stake its claim, not when every interaction felt charged with something you didn’t dare name. You’d gotten so used to the feeling of butterflies every time he was near. So much so that the idea of casually brushing against him, of not leaning into him like it was second nature, now seemed like punishment.

The holidays were meant to be temporary, a brief interlude where you could play pretend and then walk away unscathed. But the closer you got to the end of the week, the more you realized that this wasn’t something you could simply walk away from.

You were toeing the edge, willing to risk everything you’d worked so hard to bury in the past few years.

Sure, there had been moments when the lines blurred, but those were fleeting, right?

Like that little jealous outburst at the bakery… God why did you do that?

The weight of your emotions were suffocating, pressing against your chest like an anchor, dragging you further into uncertainty. Each rational thought told you to pull back, to maintain the boundaries that had kept your friendship safe and intact for years. But all those same boundaries now felt paper-thin, stretched to their limits under the strain of what this holiday had brought to the surface.

You had come so far in keeping your distance, convincing yourself that you were fine just being his friend, his roommate—just a temporary solution for the week.

But now…now it all felt like you were playing a dangerous game.

And it wasn’t just the casual touches or fleeting glances that unravelled you. It was all those quiet moments in between—when no one was watching, when it was just the two of you, and he looked at you as if you mattered in a way that went beyond pretense. It was in the way he held you so tightly at night. In the way he sought you out in a room full of people, his gaze always searching for yours, making sure you are comfortable, as if you were his anchor, too.

And that is what made this dangerous.

Namjoon had a way of making everything feel real, even the things that were supposed to be pretend.

Every part of you wanted to scream at yourself to stop, to push him away and hold on to the semblance of normalcy you’d worked so hard to maintain. Yet, with every passing moment, you felt that distance closing, felt the walls you’d built around your heart slowly crumbling under his unspoken promises. Especially since he had this knack for being affectionate with you when there was no logical reason you could point to. No audience. No performance. Just you, him, and an unspoken need neither of you seemed to acknowledge.

When you finally felt cold enough to forget why you were so unreasonably horny at seven in the morning, you retreated back into the bedroom to get dressed. You tugged on a soft hoodie, the fabric warm and grounding against your skin. It didn’t erase the tension coiled in your chest, but at least it gave you something to hold onto.

The scent of coffee wafted through the air as you opened the door, a fleeting reminder of normalcy—or at least a distraction from the mess in your heart.

Namjoon was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone. His mom, still barely awake, moved around the kitchen, preparing the tools she needed for breakfast. A fresh mug of coffee sat on the table, steam curling invitingly from it.

“Hey, love," Namjoon greeted simply, his voice warm and casual, the corner of his lips curling into a soft smile, his dimples making a devastatingly brief appearance. He gestured towards the steaming cup he’d prepared, his gaze lingering on you for just a second too long. “Coffee’s ready.”

“Good morning,” you greeted, directing a polite smile towards his mother before shifting your attention back to him.

 Raising an eyebrow at the unexpected term of endearment, you decided you won’t to let him get in your head again. Two could play this game.

“Thank you, baby.” you said, deliberately exaggerating the word with mock sweetness, drawing it out just enough to make your point clear.

Namjoon paused, his smile faltering for just a second, as if the weight of what he’d just said had finally hit him. It was almost comical—the way his eyes widened slightly, the subtle tilt of his head as he realized he’d called you “love” so naturally, as ifwithout even noticing.

His dimples deepened as he recovered, but then there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—something that suggested he was more aware of the tension than he let on.

You watched him carefully, keeping your expression neutral as you took the mug from him. He opened his mouth, about to respond, but seemed to think better of it. Instead, he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head lightly.

“You know I can’t resist messing with you a bit.” He replied, the playful tone in his voice thickening, tough there was an edge of amusement in the way he looked at you.

Like he didn’t mess enough with you this morning.

 “What? Did you add salt instead of sugar?” you asked, keeping the sarcasm light enough to communicate your true intentions to him, but soft enough that no one else would notice the charged tension between you two.

Namjoon let out a soft snort at your jab, but the real reaction came from his mother.

A giggle bubbled out from where she stood in the corner of the kitchen, halfway through washing the rice. Her eyes sparked with mischief as she glanced over at the two of you. “Salt instead of sugar?” she repeated, a teasing edge creeping in her voice as she set down the bowl she was holding. “Is that your way of flirting these days, Namjoon?”

Namjoon groaned dramatically, rubbing the back of his neck as a faint flush crept up his neck. “Mom, please.” He mumbled, glancing sideways at you for support—or maybe escape.

You couldn’t suppress the grin spreading across your face, taking an almost perverse satisfaction in watching him squirm for once. “Oh, I don’t know,” you teased, holding the mug closer. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing he’s done this week.”

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed slightly at you, though the corners of his lips tugged upwards in an exasperated smile. “Don’t you start.” He warned lightly, his voice low and teasing as he shook his head.

Before you could get another word in, he stepped forwards, taking your hand with the mug still in it. With a mischievous smirk, he brought the cup to his lips and took a big gulp of your coffee, as if to prove there was no threat.

“See?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Perfectly fine. You’re welcome, by the way.”

You blinked, stunned for a moment by his audacity.

“You did not just drink my coffee.” You said, glancing at your mug, your voice incredulous.

His mother chuckled, clearly amused by the unfolding scene. “Honestly, watching you two is like watching preschoolers flirt,” she remarked, her tone light but pointed. As she turned back to her task, she added with a sly smile, “Namjoon, do you still pull on her hair instead of just telling her you love her?” 

Namjoon froze, his hand still loosely holding yours, his wide eyes quickly darting from you to his mother as though searching for an escape route.

You, on the other hand, could feel the heat in your cheeks, spreading rapidly as her words sank in. Your heart stuttered under the weight of her question, her casual delivery doing nothing to soften its impact. Did she realty see you that way? Did everyone? Because this—the playful back-and-forth—wasn’t even part of the charade. This was just…you two.

The playful energy of moments ago dissolved into an awkward silence, thick with unspoken questions and the sudden realization that your dynamic maybe wasn’t as innocent as you’d thought. You risked a glance at Namjoon, hoping to gauge his reaction, but his face was turned away, a flush creeping up the back of his neck.

Then, in true Namjoon fashion, he fumbled his way straight into the worst possible response. “Only when she asks me to.”

Your jaw dropped, and before you could stop yourself, you swatted his arm. “Namjoon!”

The innuendo wasn’t lost on you—or his mother, whose laugh bubbled up, filling the room with delighted mischief. Namjoon winced at your retaliation but managed a sheepish smile, as if realizing too late that his attempt at humour had only dug him deeper into the hole.

“Oh, you two,” Mrs. Kim chuckled, shaking her head as she wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Honestly, it’s no wonder it took you so long to get together.” She said with a smile, her voice light but laced with the kind of amusement only a parent could muster.

Namjoon groaned softly, running a hand through his hair. “Mom, please,” he muttered, clearly regretting every life choice that had led to this moment. His hand lingered at the back of his neck, rubbing at the spot where his embarrassment always seemed to gather.

You bit the inside of your cheek, willing yourself not to react—or to let the warmth rising in your own face betray you, one of your telltale signs when you were lying. Instead, you lifted the mug to your lips, completely forgetting that Namjoon just drank from it. The faintest hint of him lingered on the rim, but you forced yourself to focus on the bitter coffee, letting it anchor you as you scrambled to regain some semblance of composure.

Namjoon’s mother didn’t seem inclined to drop the subject, though, casting a glance between the two of you, her eyes sparkling. “You know,” she began, her voice as casual as if she were discussing the weather, “I’ve never seen you this flustered. It’s kind of adorable.”

Namjoon cleared his throat, clearly searching for an exit route, but his usual eloquence failed him. Because he very lamely defended with, “I’m not flustered.”

You bit your lip, trying to keep a straight face, but the sight of him so out of sorts was too much. You hid your grin behind the rim of your mug, the bitter coffee doing little to mask the warmth blooming in your chest. “Me either, now that I think about it,” you chimed in, your tone deliberately light. “I second that.”

His eyes snapped to you, a mix of betrayal and exasperation flashing across his face. “You’re the one who—Traitor,” he mumbled, though there was no real bite in his words.

You giggle at his reaction, watching with delight as he gently pushes off the counter. “I can feel you two ganging up on me in the very near future, so I’m going to start helping just to avoid any further embarrassment.”

His mom just grinned, clearly relishing the moment. “Don’t be silly. It’s good to see you getting along so well, that’s all. But if you’re so eager, you can help peel the carrots.”

Namjoon sighed dramatically, but began rolling up his sleeves to wash his hands. “Peeling carrots,” he muttered under his breath, his tone mock-sullen. “This is what my life has come to.”

You watched him for a moment, his shoulders relaxing despite the exaggerated complaints, and felt a strange kind of warmth settle in your chest. Being here, in the kitchen, with him and his family—it felt easy. Familiar. Like you belonged.

Without a word, you set your mug down and stepped closer to join him.

“Joining in on my torture?” he asked, his lips quirking in a half-smile as he reached for something in the cupboard above.

“Can’t have you slicing off fingers on Christmas,” you replied, nodding up at him, adding a pinch of that normal back-and-forth you were so used to, the kind that kept things light.

Or at least, you tried to.

 Because, to your utter shock, Namjoon somehow managed to smack himself in the face with the cupboard door.

The corner of the door caught him right above his eye, and he flinched back with a quick, hushed curse.

You stare for a second, completely stunned, your mouth opening in surprise as a small trickle of blood appeared at the edge of his eyebrow. He cursed again, more audibly this time, wincing as he reached up to touch the spot, only to pull his hand away like the pain had caught him off guard.

“Holy—Joonie, are you okay?” you rushed to his side, instinctively grabbing a napkin from the counter.

He looked at you, his expression a mix of frustration and disbelief, though there was an underlying amusement that seemed to peek through, despite the situation “Yeah. It kinda hurts, though,” he admitted, glancing at you like he was trying to gauge just how bad it was.

“Yeah, no shit, you’re bleeding,” you shot back, holding up the napkin and carefully pressing it to the cut.

Namjoon chuckled weakly, the sound oddly endearing despite the blood trickling down his face. “I am?” he asked, raising his eyebrows—only to wince when the movement tugged at the fresh wound.

You didn’t even notice how close you had gotten, too focused on your task to register that you were standing on your tiptoes to reach him, or that his hands grabbed your waist to keep you steady. The proximity was a detail you were too preoccupied to process, nor did you notice Mrs. Kim watching the scene unfold with a fond smile on her face.

“Hold still,” you instructed, gently holding the napkin in place. “You’ll need some ice to stop the bruising.”

“There’s peas in the freezer,” his mom casually pointed out, “and bandages in the drawer to your left.”

You nodded absentmindedly, still focused on the napkin pressing against his face. The light pressure was enough to slow the bleeding, but you could already see the hint of a bruise starting to form.

You sigh, gesturing at him to hold the napkin while you get the supplies, his fingers brushing over yours in the exchange.

“Will you ever learn that you are tall and corners exist?” you chastised, walking over to the fridge to rummage for the peas.

Namjoon chuckled at your exasperation; the sound soft but warm. “Maybe one day.”

You managed to pull the freezer open, grabbing the bag of frozen peas and holding it up to the light. “Well, I’m not gonna hold my breath.”

When you turned to make your way back to him, you saw his eyes following you with an almost fond expression. “It’s lucky I’m cute,” he said with a wink, clearly trying to downplay the whole situation.

 “You’re lucky I don’t pass out at the sight of blood.” You quipped, handing him the peas with a soft chuckle. “Now, take a seat. I can’t reach you.” You grabbed the band-aids from the drawer, your fingers quickly working on finding the right sized ones.

Namjoon’s lip twitched, somewhere between amusement and exasperation, but he obediently pulled out a chair and sat down, slouching slightly so you could tend to him without straining.

When you turned back to him, you noticed how he was staring at you—his usual teasing gone, replaced by something softer, more genuine.

“Hold still,” you instructed, carefully dabbing at the blood on his face with a fresh napkin.

As you worked, your fingers brushed through his hair, tucking a stray lock behind his ear. It was a small gesture, but it sent a sudden flutter through your chest, because his eyes fluttered close under your touch.

The soft kitchen light seemed to highlight the details of his face—freckles, small moles, the curve of his jaw—details you hadn’t truly taken the time to admire before. But now, with his eyes closed, his features relaxing as though the pain was a distant memory, you allowed yourself the indulgence of taking it all in.

For a fleeting moment, you almost forgave him for drinking your coffee.

His breath evened out, a quiet sigh slipping past his lips as you pressed the band-aid into place with care. Your fingers lingered against his skin, cupping his face to keep him still, and your heart faltered when you realized how effortlessly he surrendered to your touch, as if trusting you entirely to put him back together.

It was only then you noticed how close you were—standing between his open legs, his hands resting quietly on your hips as though they belonged there, silently urging you closer.

The realization hit you like a jolt, and for a beat, you froze. The proximity sent a wave of warmth through you, leaving your hands a little shaky as you reached for the peas again, hoping to focus on something other than the magnetic pull between you.

But just as you moved away, the atmosphere shifted, heavy with the feeling of being watched. You glanced up, only to catch Mrs. Kim standing in the doorway. Her expression was knowing, her lips quirking into a faintly amused smile that made your cheeks burn.

Namjoon’s voice broke the silence, drawing your attention back to him. “Will I survive?” he asked, a hint of humour laced in his tone as he glanced up at you, still holding the bag of peas against his cheek.

His small, half-smile was so casual, so utterly oblivious to the storm of emotions tearing through you, that it only made your chest tighten further.

“You just might,” you managed to reply, your voice steadier than you expected, though your heart was pounding in your ears.

“Good.” He stood up, hands still holding you close. “Let’s get peeling. No one gets away from this job.”

~~~

You paced around the bedroom, rifling through the limited wardrobe you’d packed, desperately trying to assemble something decent for Hoseok’s Christmas party—something you’d completely forgotten about until the last minute. And honestly, who would blame you after a day like this?

Cozy sweaters and jeans had been your go-to during your stay at Namjoon’s parents’ house, but those felt far too casual for an event like this.

And while the little black dress paired with sheer tights and thigh-high boots seemed like a solid option at first, the howling snowstorm outside quickly made you reconsider.

Namjoon had assured you it didn’t matter, but one quick scroll through Hoseok’s Instagram had your anxiety kicking into overdrive. His house was sleek and impossibly modern, adorned with Christmas décor that looked straight out of a designer catalogue. The polished tree, the subtle golden accents—it all screamed sophistication, a stark contrast to the decidedly average contents of your suitcase.

After watching you agonize over your outfit for half an hour, Minhi had kindly offered to take you to the mall. You’d politely declined.

Because going to the mall during the holidays was, in your opinion, the worst form of torture ever devised by humanity.

Instead, she rummaged through her own closet and handed you a pair of thermal tights and a leather skirt.

With her help, you managed to put together an ensemble that felt both festive and weather-appropriate. The leather skirt paired perfectly with the tights, and your favourite thigh-high boots added just the right edge. You topped it off with a boatneck burgundy sweater that showcased your shoulders, cinching it all together with a sleek belt.

When you finally emerged from the bathroom, Namjoon was sprawled on the bed, already dressed for the party in a cream sweater and loose jeans—a frustratingly effortless combination—and halfway through a book. His eyes flicked up as you entered the room, and a slow, appreciative smile spread across his face.

He probably wasn’t admiring at your outfit, you thought dryly. More likely, he was just relieved you were finally done monopolizing the bathroom.

“You look good,” he said simply, his voice warm with something that sounded suspiciously like admiration as he watched you settle at the little desk to finish your makeup.

“You don’t think it’s too much?” you asked, smoothing your hands nervously over the skirt before rummaging through your chaotic makeup bag in search of a lipstick.

His words seemed casual, but there was an undertone that made your pulse quicken. Compliments from Namjoon weren’t rare, but it was always how he said them—earnest and genuine, like he meant them even when he wasn’t trying to. It was something you were used to, or so you told yourself.

The sound of his book closing drew your attention, and when you glanced in the mirror, your eyes locked with his.

“Not at all,” he said, his voice warm and certain, his gaze unwavering. “You’re perfect.”

That was different.

You felt a flush creep up your neck, but you kept your gaze on the mirror, pretending to be absorbed in the precise swipe of lipstick rather than the insane fluttering in your chest.

“Sweet talker,” you murmured, hoping to sound unaffected, though the grin plastered on your face gave you away.

Namjoon chucked, the deep, rich sound filling the room. “Just honest,” he replied, propping himself up on one elbow.  His gaze was intense, and it held you captive in that way that made your cheeks warm. Damn him.

You capped your lipstick and turned to face him, trying for a casual air as you smoothed down the sweater. “Alright, I think I’m ready.”

He rose from the bed, unfolding his tall frame with an easy grace and he made his way towards you with an easy stride.

Now standing in front of you, he reached out, fingers brushing against your temple as he to gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. A simple, intimate gesture, that made your breath catch just the same.

You crane your neck to meet his gaze, feeling the weight of his undivided attention on you. His eyes seemed to flicker with a thousand thoughts, a whirlwind of ideas that seemed to cross his mind before he finally settled on one.

“I want to give you a hickey.”

Your jaw dropped, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, utterly stunned. “Excuse me?” you managed, your voice squeaking higher than you intended.

Namjoon’s dimples made an appearance as he tried to suppress a grin, though his eyes gleamed with pure mischievous delight. “I said,” he repeated, completely unrepentant, “I want to give you a hickey.”

You opened and closed your mouth, brain scrambling for a coherent response. “You-you can’t just say stuff like that, Namjoon!” you sputtered, heat rushing to your head and making you lightheaded.

“Why not?” His tone was maddeningly calm, as though he’d just commented on the weather rather than that sudden, unexpected declaration.

“Because!” you gestured vaguely at yourself and the outfit you painstakingly put together, still clinging to a sense of composure “Look at this! Do you know how much effort went into this? And you want to… to ruin it with a hickey?”

And fuel my late-night fantasies for the rest of my life while you’re at it, you silently added.

Namjoon tilted his head slightly, clearly amused by your outrage, his hand still hovering over your face. “I don’t think it would ruin anything,” he said softly, his voice low.

His gaze flitted briefly to your collarbone before returning to your eyes, warm but challenging. “I think it might add something, and make this whole ordeal more believable.”

“Namjoon!” you hissed, glancing nervously toward the door, half-expecting someone to walk in on this absurd conversation.

He laughed, the sound rich and teasing, before stepping closer, his legs bumping against your knees and almost making them open. The closeness made your heart go crazy, his presence overwhelming in the most intoxicating way. “Relax, I’m just teasing,” he said, tough the glint in his eyes suggested otherwise. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“I told you I like giving hickeys to my lovers,” he said with a casual shrug—a detail you’d conveniently buried but now recalled with sudden clarity. The realization hit you like a freight train, and the weight of the implication made your cheeks burn.

Before you could respond, his hand moved again, this time his fingers grazing over your cheek before gently cupping your chin. “We want this to be believable, right?” he said softly, his tone low and disarming.

He tilted your head up, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin as his gaze bore into yours. His expression softened, and his lips quirked into a faint smile. “And you’re cute when you’re flustered,” he murmured, almost as if speaking to himself.

You huffed, clinging desperately to your last shred of defiance. “If you give me one then I’m giving you one too!” you protested, your voice more confident than you felt. You hoped the bravado would make him back down, but deep down, you already knew that Namjoon is just as hardheaded as you and would never back down when you push his buttons.

His eyebrows shot up, clearly intrigued by your declaration. “Oh, is that how it’s going to be?” he asked, his voice a velvety blend of amusement and challenge.

You crossed your arms, trying to look more confident than you felt. “That’s exactly how it’s going to be. Fair’s fair.”

His chuckle was low and dangerous, the kind that made your stomach flip. “Fair. But are you sure you’re ready for that?”

 His fingers lingered on your chin moving down to your neck, his touch light, the words hanging between you, making the tension even more palpable. He lowered his gaze to your lips for a beat.

You squared your shoulders, watching him with a daring spark in your eyes. You weren’t quite sure where this new-fond courage was coming from, but you couldn’t back down yet.

After all, you couldn’t make his heart flutter like he did yours, but damn it, you could at least make his blood pressure rise.

 “Oh, I’m definitely ready. Did you forget how I woke up this morning?” At that remark his confidence wavered, and you smirked. “Are you?”

Namjoon’s eyes darkened. He took a step back, but there was something in his posture now—something that hinted he wasn’t quite ready to let go of this newly formed energy between you. His fingers brushed against the fabric of your sweater, but it was almost as if he were trying to compose himself.

“I’m game if you are.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying not to let the rush of nerves make you falter. “Fine.” You said, mimicking his calmness, tough your heart was undoubtedly going to burst out of your chest and land on his lap any second.

Without another word, his hand slid to your neck, his thumb pressing softly against your pulse point. Then, with a fluid motion, he knelt in front of you, reaching under the desk chair to adjust it. He pulled you closer, the sudden shift leaving your knees brushing against his chest, until your faces were mere inches apart.

You gasped, the heat rising to your cheeks in a slow, burning wave as he leaned in, narrowing the space between you to a breath.

His lips hovered just above your skin, the warmth of his breath brushing teasingly against your neck. You froze, caught between the urge to pull away and the undeniable pull that kept you rooted in place.

He pressed closer, his body fitting perfectly into the space between your legs as you unconsciously spread them to make room for him. Your hands found his shoulders instinctively, fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater as though holding on for dear life.

You felt his lips curve into a smirk against your pulse point, a maddening mixture of confidence and playfulness. His cologne, warm and woodsy with a hint of something spicy, enveloped you entirely, clouding your thoughts and making it impossible to focus on anything but him.

“Relax, I don’t bite…much.” His voice was low and laced with amusement.

And then you wonder why your feelings were so tangled…

You held your breath as his lips brushed against your skin, featherlight yet sending fireworks through your veins. The shift in the air was palpable, and you were acutely aware how it all transformed from mere playful flirting into something undeniably intimate.

When his lips finally pressed against your neck—soft and deliberate—it was like the world tilted on its axis. The simple gesture unravelled you in ways you hadn’t anticipated, setting all your nerves alight. His teeth grazed your skin, and a soft gasp escaped before you could even think to stop it.

He consumed you entirely, leaving no room for rational thoughts. You couldn’t tell if it was the gentle pressure of his mouth, the confidence in his movements, or the sheer closeness of him, but it was intoxicating, overwhelming and undeniably, all Namjoon.

You could feel the way your body responded to him, melting into his touch, leaving you boneless under his attention, and for a second, you wondered if he could feel the heat building between your legs.

As his tongue traced the outline of the hickey he was leaving, you let out a sound—a quiet, needy whimper that surprised even you. It was the kind of sound that you’d never meant to make, the kind that gave away everything you were feeling, despite your best efforts to hide it.

Namjoon stilled at that, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment longer before he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching your face.

But you refused to meet his gaze. Instead, you leaned further into him, burying your face in his shoulder, one hand threading into his hair in a silent plea.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Don’t stop.”

His breath hitched at your words, and then his lips found that spot again with renewed purpose. This time, he didn’t hold back. His teeth sank into your skin, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you gasp, the sensation igniting a shiver down your spine. When you mewled, his tongue followed, soothing the sting with deliberate, careful strokes.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as he worked, every second heightening the electricity coursing through you. Finally, Namjoon pulled back, his lips ghosting over your skin one last time before he leaned away to admire his handiwork.

You lifted trembling fingers to touch the spot, the warmth still radiating from the fresh hickey.

“Told you it would look good,” he said, his voice low and slightly rougher than before, though his tone was carrying he same teasing edge.

You blinked up at him, your brain still struggling to catch up. The audacity, the thrill of what his lips had done to you—it was all too much.

His confidence was effortless, and it stood in sharp contrast to the insecurity now blooming in your chest. You were a mess, your emotions tangled and raw.

This was supposed to be a game, you reminded yourself. A performance. A pretense for the world.

But the way Namjoon looked at you, the amusement and unspoken understanding glimmering in his dark eyes—it felt far too real. Almost like he understood something you didn’t.

“Right,” he broke the silence, his voice cutting through the charged atmosphere with effortless ease. “Before you get your turn, my knees are starting to hurt.  Do you mind if I sit down?” He gestured casually to the bed behind him, his tone light, but his gaze remained steady locked onto you.

You nodded, your throat tight, the words getting lost somewhere between your racing heart and your scattered thoughts.

Namjoon casually sat down on the edge of the bed, patting the spot next to him. “Come here,” he said, the warmth in his voice undercut by an unmistakable challenge.

For a moment, you hesitated, a whirlwind of thoughts crashing through your mind. Every rational part of you screamed to play it cool, to call his bluff. But your feet were already in motion, betraying your resolve.

With a sigh, you stood, smoothing the edge of your skirt and walked toward him, heart still racing in your chest, but also a twinge of annoyance keeping it beating in contretemps—why did he get to be so effortlessly charming while you were left breathless and flustered by the slightest touch?

You reach him, and instead of sitting beside him like he expected, you boldly climbed onto his lap, your skirt riding up just enough to reveal a hint of your thighs.

“Is this better?” you purred, meeting his gaze in an intense staring contest. You couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth, but the challenge was clear: you could play his game.

Namjoon’s eyes widened slightly, his composure cracking for the briefest moment. “M-much better,” he stammered, his hands instinctively finding your hips to steady you, though the surprise in his voice was quickly masked with a hitched breath.

“Good.” Your whispered, the word barely escaping your lips as you leaned in, pressing your body flush against his. You couldn’t help but smirk inwardly, noticing the way he fought to keep his eyes from wandering down to where your chest was now pressed against him.

Closing the distance between you, you let your lips graze his jawline in a slow, electrifying touch that sent a thrill shooting through your veins. His heartbeat thrummed beneath your touch, its rapid rhythm mirroring your own, as though your hearts were tangled together in that moment. You smiled against his skin, trailing your lips down his neck, savouring the rare power shift you’d managed to create, though it was short-lived.

Namjoon’s hands slid from your hips to your lower back, his warm fingers pressing against you skin with a gentle insistence that sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. His touch was unhurried and deliberate, brushing beneath your shirt in a way that made your breath hitch and you skin prick with need.

You felt his body tense beneath your palms, every muscle coiled with barely contained restraint. His breath grew uneven as your fingers traced the curve of his neck, your touch lingering as you searched for that perfect spot to leave your mark.

Each movement was slow and deliberate, your intent clear as you took your time, savouring every shiver that rippled through him, every spasm that betrayed the effect you had on him. The quiet tension in the room thickened, each breath, each touch feeding the growing heat between you.

His fingers grip your back tighter, a silent plea for more. His eyes darken, and his mouth parts slightly, betraying the control he’s struggling to maintain as you pepper his neck with soft kisses. You catch his pulse flitter beneath your lips, and with that, you know exactly where to leave your mark.

You press your lips to the sensitive spot, and slowly, deliberately, you sink your teeth into his skin. Namjoon stiffens at the pressure, a soft gasp escaping him, but you don’t relent. Instead, you suck a mark—one that’s sure to linger.

He groans low in his throat, his hands moving up to your shoulders, but they’re not pushing you away. They’re pulling you closer, urging you to stay right where you are. His grip tightens again, not in restraint, but in a desperate need for more and you can’t help but indulge him.

You shift, moving lower to leave another mark, this time with more urgency, and then another and another until you reach the collar of his sweater. Once satisfied with his state, you leaned back, your gaze locking with his.

Namjoon’s eyes are blown wide, his ragged breath mingling roughly with yours. His chest rises and falls beneath your hands as you pull back, taking a moment to admire the marks you’ve left behind. The faint flushes of red against his skin making your heart race, a mixture of pride and something akin to love flooding your chest.

Your fingers glide along the sharp line of his jaw, your touch featherlight as you tilt his face upward ever so slightly. His compliance makes your heart stutter—how effortlessly he lets himself be guided by you again, trusting and open to you.

You pause for a moment, taking in the closeness, the way his dark eyes flicker with an intensity that threatens to steal your breath. Slowly, cautiously, you lean in, your lips hovering just a breath away from his, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours.

No more games, no more walls. Just this—raw, unguarded, and inevitable.

His breath was hot against your skin, the faint scent of mint makes your head spin. His hands tighten, as if anchoring himself in the moment.

But just as your lips were about to meet, the door swung open with a loud bang, the sudden noise splintering the tension.

“Ready to go? You two are going to be late-” Jackson’s voice trailed off as he froze in the doorway. “Oh?”

The room seemed to freeze along with him, the awkward, tension-laden silence settling in the air. Jackson’s eyes darted between you and Namjoon, his sharp gaze taking in every detail—the blush on your cheeks, Namjoon’s dishevelled shirt, and the undeniable red mark blooming on your neck. A playful eyebrow arched in genuine surprise, and an almost imperceptible grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he realised what he just walked in on.

Namjoon was the first to react, his grip on you loosening just slightly, though he didn’t let you go completely. He shot Jackson a pointed look, the faintest blush creeping up his neck, though his demeanour stayed intact.

“We were just-” Namjoon broke off, realizing there were no words that could really explain this without sounding absolutely ridiculous.

You, on the other hand, felt like the air had been sucked out of your lungs. You could feel your heart pounding, your cheeks flushed, and for the first time since walking into this room, you regretted wearing that confident smirk. You pulled back slightly, hands still resting on Namjoon’s shoulders, and glanced at Jackson, whose grin only grew wider.

“I-uh... we were just about to head out,” you stammered, standing up off Namjoon’s lap, awkwardly fixing your skirt before reaching for your purse, suddenly too aware of how dishevelled you both looked.

Fuck, fuck-fuckity, fuck.

“Yeah, sure looked like it,” Jackson grinned, leaning against the doorframe far too casually.

Namjoon exhaled sharply, his expression shifting from amused to mildly exasperated as he shot Jackson a look that could only be described as a warning. “Jackson,” he said, his tone light but firm.

 Jackson raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll be out here if you need me. Just try not to be too late, lovebirds.”

With a final chuckle, he stepped back, leaving the door ajar as he walked down the hall.

You let out a long breath, your hands now nervously smoothing over your skirt, trying to pretend like nothing had happened, getting a step ahead of Namjoon’s usual calm demeanour. But the charged energy between you two was hard to ignore.

“Well, that was... perfectly timed,” he muttered, his voice tinged with amusement, confirming yet again, that Namjoon was some kind of rare breed of monk that could remain calm even in the weirdest of situations, and it was only you and your stupid brain misinterpreting everything about the situation you were in.

You shot him a look, anxiety prickling at the back of your mind. What would have happened if you kissed him?

He probably would have finally dropped the act, and you in the process with it. God damn it all. Freud would have a field day dissecting your brain right now.

Namjoon tilted his head, watching you fidget with your lipstick, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression. It wasn’t smugness, like you expected, or teasing, like you feared. It was softer, genuine, almost curious.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low enough that it didn’t feel like a question so much as an invitation to exhale.

You forced a shrug, your hand trembling just slightly as you turned back to the mirror, feigning nonchalance. “Yeah, never been better,” you replied, the words too casual, too light to be entirely convincing.

Namjoon’s gaze lingered, the weight of it making your skin buzz, but you avoided meeting his eyes, focusing instead on reapplying your lipstick, pretending like the tremor in your hands wasn’t there

“You, uh, might want to wipe that off your neck, though,” you added, gesturing vaguely toward the red lipstick smudges you left on his skin, along with the faint, blooming hickeys.

He blinked, his fingers instinctively brushing over his neck, and when he caught sight of his reflection in the nearby mirror, his lips quirked into a big smile.

“Not bad,” he murmured, his tone light but carrying an edge of amusement that made your stomach flip as he reached for one of your makeup wipes.

You shot him a glare through the mirror, head flooding your cheeks.

“What?”

Your glare sharpened, your words tumbling out before you could stop them. “What do you mean, what? You’re just... too calm about this!”

He raised an eyebrow, his hand pausing mid-wipe. For a moment, you thought he might actually take you seriously, but then that signature grin spread across his face.

And with maddening ease, he threw your own words from this morning right back at you.

“Yeah, well. One of us has to be.”

~~~

You were the last guests to arrive at Hoseok’s place.

Jackson and Minhi had dropped you off a few streets away on their way to the market for an intense last-minute Christmas shopping session. As the car slowed down to a stop, Minhi gave you a knowing smile, warm and teasing, while Jackson couldn’t resist throwing in one last jab from the driver’s seat.

“Don’t let anyone see that neck of yours, yeah? The marks might be gone by New Year’s though.” His grin was all trouble, clearly enjoying himself far too much.

Minhi swatted his arm, rolling her eyes, but her laughter betrayed her amusement. “Ignore him,” she said, though the grin tugging on her lips mirrored his perfectly.

Namjoon shot them both a withering glare, his hand tugging at the collar of his jacket in a futile attempt to shield himself from their bullying.

“Thanks for the reminder,” he muttered dryly, his voice twinged with irritation as he opening the car door for you.

You busied yourself arranging your coat, willing the heat rising in your cheeks to fade. It didn’t help that Jackson leaned out of the car window, calling after him, “Don’t worry, Joon. We’re all adults here. It’s normal!”

The sound of Minhi’s exasperated, “Jackson, drive!” was barely enough to drown out his laughter as they sped away, leaving you and Namjoon standing in the cold, with an interesting kind of silence stretching between you.

As the car disappearing into the snowy street, you felt the familiar nerves creep back in, knotting in your stomach.

Namjoon must have noticed because, without hesitation, his hand found yours. The gesture was casual, but the warmth of his palm grounded you. He gave your fingers a small squeeze before guiding you down the quiet street towards Hoseok’s house.

“Don’t worry,” he said, voice soft and steady as he glanced at you with a small, warm smile. “It’s just Hoseok.”

You managed a smile in return, through it felt more like an act of bravery than genuine reassurance. “Yeah, which means everyone will be there.” you laugh, even as anxiousness bubbled in your stomach

It wasn’t just the idea of walking into a house full of people you barely knew. It was what the party represented: being introduced to Namjoon’s closest friends, the ones who’d grown up with him, who knew him inside and out. It felt like lying all over again.

The role felt just as daunting, the weight of pretending just as heavy as when you first arrived at Namjoon’s parents’ house, stepping into the same carefully constructed charade. But now, it seemed even more complicated—because these people weren’t just family. They were the ones who’d shaped him, who might see through you with a single glance and not be afraid to call it out.

The cold nipped at your skin, but Namjoon’s touch was steady and warm. Snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky, catching in your hair and melting against your searing cheeks.

Ahead, the glow from Hoseok’s house spilled onto the snowy lawn, warm and inviting. The windows framed silhouettes of people milling about inside, the occasional bursts of laughter spilled into the quiet night. It was the kind of place that instantly felt alive, where every sound promised laughter and warmth—but to you, it was another reminder of how much was riding on this evening.

Namjoon’s voice broke the quiet. “Hey,” he said, his tone softer than usual. He slowed his steps, turning to look at you fully. “You don’t have to be nervous. They’ll love you.”

You shot him a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. “Love me, or love the idea of you finally bringing someone over?”

His smile faltered for a split second, replaced by a sheepish look that made your stomach flip. “Maybe a little of both,” he admitted, his tone light. But before you could dwell on it, he added, “But I wouldn’t have brought you if I thought it wouldn’t have been great.”

“I just feel like I’m lying again.”

Namjoon’s expression softened at your words, his steps coming to a full stop as he gently tugged your hand, prompting you to face him. His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, the comforting motion grounding you despite the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your head.

“You’re not lying,” he said firmly, his voice steady and sure. “You’re here because you’re important to me, and that’s the truth. And the rest…” He paused, searching your eyes. “The rest doesn’t matter as much as you think it does.”

You frowned, your nerves still quickening under the surface. “But they don’t know that. To them, I’m your girlfriend. This whole thing—it’s still lying.”

“I know it feels like that,” he said gently. “But... it doesn’t feel like pretending to me. Not when it’s you.”

His words caught you off guard, a quiet warmth blooming in your chest even as your stomach twisted with doubt. You searched his face, trying to read between the lines, but his expression was earnest, open, and it only made your heart ache just a bit more.

“But what if they see through it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What if they realize it’s all an act?”

Before you could overthink it further, his hand gently cupped your cheek. He smiled, a small, crooked grin that managed to melt away some of the tension in your chest. “They’ll be so busy being excited that I finally brought someone, they won’t even notice.”

Namjoon’s lighthearted comment earned a soft laugh from you, even as you shook your head against his palm. “You’re impossible,” you murmured, the smallest of smiles tugging at your lips.

“I mean it,” he said, his grin softening into something more genuine. “And trust me, with you looking this stunning, it’s going to be hard enough to keep the boys from hitting on you, let alone anyone noticing.”

The comment pulled a genuine laugh from you this time, the weight over your shoulders easing ever so slightly. “I’ll keep that in mind if things get awkward.”

Namjoon’s thumb gently brushed against your cheek. “It won’t. And even if it does, I’ll be right there with you. Promise.”

You held his gaze for a moment longer, finding something steadying in the way he looked at you. “Thank you Joonie, I’m sorry I keep making this difficult on you.”

Namjoon shook his head, his expression morphing again into something soft, almost weak. “You’re not making it difficult,” he said gently. “I get it. It’s a lot to ask of you, and I’ve probably handled this in the most Namjoon way possible—which, let’s be honest, means a bit of a mess.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his self-deprecating humour, even as your heart ached a little. “You’ve handled it fine. It’s me who keeps overthinking everything.”

He tilted his head, his gaze searching yours with a quiet intensity. “You’re not overthinking—you’re just feeling. And that’s okay. I’d be worried if you weren’t.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Joon, you make it sound like I’m the most complicated person in the world.”

“Maybe you are,” he teased lightly, his grin reappearing. “But I like complicated. Complicated is honest.”

The warmth in his voice made your cheeks flush, and for a moment, you felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you, the crisp night air and the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots fading into the background.

Namjoon smiled, the kind of smile that made his dimples appear and seemed to light up the cold night. Without another word, he started walking again, leading you up the stairs, your hand still firmly in his.

Before you could chicken out, he reached the door and knocked. It swung open almost immediately to reveal Hoseok, dressed in an awful Christmas sweater with reindeers humping, beaming like he’d been stationed there just waiting for you to show up.

“There they are!” Hoseok’s voice was jubilant as he threw his arms wide, ushering you both inside. “The couple of the hour!”

The heat inside hit you instantly, a stark contrast to the cold that made itself at home in your bones, but it was nothing compared to the heat that rose to your face at Hoseok’s greeting.

“Hobi, tone it down,” Namjoon said, though there was no real annoyance in his voice. He stepped forward to pull Hoseok into a quick hug, shaking his head. “You’re going to scare her off before we even get inside.”

Hoseok turned to you; his grin as impish as ever. “Not a chance. If I remember correctly, she’s tougher than she looks.” His smile only grew wider when he walked over to hug you, “It’s really good to see you again, peach,”

Then, with a theatrical lean forward, he added in a mock-serious whisper, “I’ve always known the two of you were endgame, by the way.”

Your mouth almost fell open, but before you could think of a reply, Namjoon groaned, “Don’t start this again.”

“Oh, I’ve barely started,” Hoseok shot back with a wink, stepping aside to let you both in. He gestured grandly toward the lively house behind him. “But first, welcome to the party. And just for the record, I’d like to take full credit for this coupling.”

“You?” you asked lightly, finally finding your voice. You steadied yourself with a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder as you leaned down to tug off your boots. “What exactly did you do?”

“I’d like to believe,” Hoseok said, his grin growing impossibly wider, “that my relentless flirting with you last time I visited was the final push Namjoon needed to grow a pair and actually make a move on you.”

Your laugh came out before you could stop it, equal parts shocked and entertained. You glanced at Namjoon, who looked simultaneously mortified and amused, his ears flushing a telltale red.

“You’d be surprised,” Namjoon chuckled, shooting Hoseok a sidelong look that was both warning and affectionate. “Though I’d hardly call your meddling relentless flirting. More like annoying provocation.”

“Semantics,” Hoseok said breezily, waving his hand as if to dismiss Namjoon’s critique. “The important thing is that it worked. You two are here now—perfect couple—and I have front-row seats. Life is good.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, but his grip on your arm tightened slightly, as if to silently ask if you were okay. When you gave him a small amused nod, he relaxed, steering you further inside, with a warm palm against your back.

“Come on,” Hoseok said, leading the way. “Drinks are in the kitchen, snacks everywhere, and just about everyone’s dying to meet Namjoon’s mystery girlfriend. No pressure.”

The house hummed with warmth and energy, a perfect blend of festive chaos and cozy familiarity. “This is quite a big event, huh?” you asked, your tone light, though your eyes darted over the bustling crowd in the living room absorbing the vibrant energy.

“Only the best for my favourite people,” Hoseok replied smoothly, his grin widening as he gestured ahead. “You included, of course.”

Namjoon chuckled softly beside you, the low sound a comforting anchor in the lively chaos. His hand stayed firmly on your back, a grounding presence as the room’s details unfolded before you.

The chatter, bursts of laughter, and the smooth strains of jazzy Christmas music created a lively background symphony. The sweet, inviting scents of cinnamon, mulled wine, and a hint of vanilla wrapped around you, mingling with the warmth of the room. The golden glow of twinkling lights bounced off the ornaments, their soft shimmer casting a dreamy radiance over the space.

Your attention shifted on a familiar face—Jungkook, donning a garishly cheerful sweater that matched his girlfriend’s equally ugly one. Their cheerful waves caught your eye, Jungkook’s grin as bright as ever. His girlfriend nudged him with a playful laugh, clearly teasing him about something you couldn’t catch over the hum of the room. You waved back, a sense of relief blooming at the sight of friendly faces.

Namjoon followed your gaze, his lips curving into a small smile. “Looks like they’re already excited to see you,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“Or you,” you teased, bumping his shoulder lightly. “He’s your gym buddy. I’m just here to admire his biceps.” You said, unable to resist the playful jab.

Namjoon let out a warm laugh, the sound rolling out effortlessly as he shook his head. “You’re my girlfriend.” he shot back with a smirk, “You’re only allowed to admire my biceps.”

Little did he know you already did.

You giggled, the playful banter a small but welcome release of tension. The knot in your chest loosened, a sense of ease slipping in. Whatever was waiting for you tonight, Namjoon was by your side. And if things went sideways, well…you could always throw him under the bus.

Of course, you already knew most of his close friends, whether from their random visits or the funny stories Namjoon had shared during your late-night talks. Still, you couldn’t ignore the curious glances that followed you both. Conversations dipped into pauses as people noticed Namjoon, greeting him with warmth—enthusiastic hugs and handshakes—and every time, their attention shifted to you, eyes filled with intrigue.

True to form, Namjoon was the perfect fake boyfriend. With a proud grin, he introduced you to everyone, weaving a believable story about how you met and ended up together. The pride in his voice sent a subtle flutter through your chest, even if the situation felt a little surreal.

After each introduction, he leaned in close to you, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered who they were, adding in fun tidbits or inside jokes about each person. It felt natural—too natural—like you’d always been a fundamental part of his world.

At some point, you found yourself chatting with one of Namjoon’s childhood friends, a quiet but kind woman named Jisoo, who had been part of their friend group since high school. Her presence was calming, and you found yourself sharing a laugh over something she said about Namjoon being a “closet softie” in his youth.

Meanwhile, Namjoon was off talking to a few people near the kitchen, gesturing enthusiastically with his hands. You could see the comfort and familiarity in his body language as he laughed along with his friends, but every so often, his eyes would flick back to you, checking in. It was such a subtle thing, but it made you feel like you were still the centre of his attention, even amidst all the noise and laughter.

Jisoo, noticing your gaze, smiled knowingly. “He’s a good guy, you know. You’re really lucky.”

Taken aback, you blinked, unsure how to respond. “Oh, uh, thanks,”

“I just mean,” she continued, “I’ve known him for years, and seeing him like this—happy, with someone who makes him smile—it’s a big deal. He’s been kind of... closed off since Su-Ho.” She gave you an appraising look before adding, “I’m glad you’re here.”

The words hit harder than you expected. You knew that Namjoon hadn’t been in a relationship since his last heartbreak. In the years living with him, you’d seen glimpses of the scars it left behind—the guarded moments, the hesitation when he let someone close, the way he avoided lingering too long in conversations about love. Hearing someone else acknowledge that weight, and imply that you might be a part of helping him carry it, it was humbling, overwhelming, and terrifying all at once. It made your chest tighten impossibly.

You had always wanted the best for him, of course. That’s why you’re here, wasn’t it? Back when you first moved in together, you’d even gone out of your way to suggest some of your single colleagues from work as potential matches. Because Namjoon was incredible—a unique combination of a golden heart and a brilliant mind. The right amount of sexy and dorky, a poet with a stubborn streak. The idea that someone could break that heart had always felt deeply unfair.

Especially since he barely held any resentment towards his ex.

But he’d always gently turned down your suggestions, saying he just wasn’t looking. You’d understood, of course. And if you were being completely honest, after years of living together, you couldn’t deny the small pang of dread at the thought of him finding someone else. Not because you didn’t want him to be happy, but because the two of you had fallen into a rhythm, a quiet, comfortable life shared between two people who had no one else to come home to. The thought of losing that, of being replaced, was a kind of ache you didn’t want to examine too closely.

You also understood his frustration when all he wanted was to visit home without having his relationship status turned into an interrogation. His life, his choices, they were enough—but somehow, they never seemed to be to anyone else.

And now, here you were. His friends accepted you so easily, welcomed you into their circle as though you’d always belonged there. But instead of feeling relief, you couldn’t shake the small, gnawing sensation of betrayal. It wasn’t towards Namjoon or his friends—it was towards yourself.

Because you weren’t entirely sure if you were pretending anymore.

“Oh! You’re Namjoon’s girlfriend, right?” a melodic voice cut through your thoughts, pulling you abruptly back to the present.

You turned towards the voice, immediately recognizing the woman approaching. “I’m Iseul, I work at the pastry shop you visited!” she said with an easy charm. Her big pouty lips curved into a warm smile, and before you could react, she enveloped you in a friendly hug.

“I kept meaning to come over and say ‘hi’, but I couldn’t get a break,” she huffed, her tone amused, her energy bright and disarming.

But none of that registered fully because your brain had latched onto something else entirely—Namjoon had introduced you as his girlfriend at the pastry shop.

Even in a situation where there was no need for the relationship, no one to convince, he’d called you his girlfriend.

The realization hit hard, quickly spiralling into another—your mini jealous outburst that day, the kiss you’d pressed to his lips out of pure, irrational possessiveness, all over something that didn’t even happen.

Heat crept up your neck as the memory replayed in vivid detail, your stomach twisting with a mix of embarrassment and something far more complicated.

“You should have seen those two” Iseul chirped, her voice light and cheerful as she glanced at Jisoo. “Barely managed to keep their hands off one another.”

She giggled, clearly entertained by the memory, and you froze, your heart pounding in your chest.

Jisoo raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued as she turned to you. “Really? Namjoon? Didn’t think he was one for public displays.”

Your mind scrambled for a response, but all you could do was let out a nervous laugh, one that sounded forced even to your own ears.

“Ah, well,” you started stalling for time as your brain worked overtime to piece together something coherent. “I guess he was just… excited about the milk bread.”

Iseul’s giggle turned into a full laugh at your weak explanation, and Jisoo smirked knowingly.

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but thankfully, Namjoon appeared by your side, his timing nothing short of miraculous. He slid an arm around your waist, his presence grounding you instantly.

“What’s this about milk bread?” he asked, his tone light but curious as his eyes dared between Iseul and Jisoo.

Iseul grinned mischievously. “Oh, just reminiscing about how involved you two were the last time you came to the shop.”

Namjoon’s brows shot up briefly, but he recovered quickly, his lips twitching into a sheepish smile. “Ah, yeah. This one likes mistletoe.” He gave a playful nod your way, his words laced with a teasing edge.

You felt your face heat up, your cheeks likely resembling the colour of the poinsettias in the room. “It’s festive,” you mumbled, glaring half-heartedly at Namjoon.

Jisoo raised an amused eyebrow. “Are you two always this committed to the holiday spirit?”

Namjoon chuckled, his hand tightening around your waist. “What can I say? She makes the season bright.”

The warmth of his tone made your heart stumble in your chest. It was the kind of comment that should have been part of the act, but the way he said it felt too genuine. Just a little too real.

“Sap,” you murmured, avoiding his gaze, which in turn earned a delighted laugh from the group.

Iseul sighed dramatically, clasping her hands together. “You two are disgustingly cute, you know that?”

Namjoon laughed again, his dimples flashing as he shrugged. “I’ve actually seen worse.”

As the conversation continued, you leaned into Namjoon’s side, his steady presence helping you navigate the teasing with a bit more grace. Still, the whole conversation lingered into your mind, and it made you wonder just how much of this you could actually take.

After a little while, the group moved to the couch, each one getting a glass of wine. You exchanged pleasantries with Jungkook and his girlfriend, laughing over some story of Namjoon being a klutz in the gym, and enjoying the warmth of the fireplace. As you took another sip of your wine, you couldn’t help but notice how comfortable Namjoon was in this environment—the ease with which he moved through the room, greeting people and making them laugh. His energy was contagious, and the way his friends reacted to him—warm, animated, full of admiration—was proof of the bond he shared with them.

“What’s going on here?” you said, half-teasing, as you watched him chat with a group by the fireplace. He’d just taken a seat on the couch, and you leaned over the back of it, one of your hands naturally moving over his shoulder and resting against his chest.

“I think I’m being serenaded by Taehyung,” Namjoon looked up at you, his smile widening as he caught your eye, and you couldn’t help but grin. His hand quickly found yours, intertwining your fingers together as he leaned back comfortably into the couch and you.

“Really? A serenade?” you raised an eyebrow, intrigued and amused at the same time.

Namjoon chuckled, a soft smile creeping into his face as he glanced at Taehyung across the room. “Yeah. Didn’t see that coming, but it’s pretty great.”

You followed his gaze to where Taehyung, guitar in hand, was effortlessly filling the space with a beautiful melody. Namjoon’s smile softened as he listened, his eyes briefly closing as he relaxed into the music.

“Tell him your taken,” you whisper, brushing your lips over his temple, convincing yourself that you were just playing your role.

Namjoon’s shoulders shook with a soft laugh as you whispered in his ear, the warmth of your breath sending a shiver down his spine. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, his expression both amused and tender. “I think he knows I’m taken,” he teased, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, as if grounding you both in this moment.

You smiled, the words lingering in the air for a heartbeat longer than necessary. Your heart raced, but it wasn't from the playful banter. It was the quiet reminder that even though you were pretending, this—this closeness, this connection—was something far more real than you had allowed yourself to admit.

Namjoon tilted his head slightly, his gaze softening as it met yours. “But just so you know,” he added, his voice low and teasing, “I’m not sharing my spot on the couch.”

You laughed quietly, settling further into his side, the warmth of his body against yours giving you a sense of peace that you hadn’t expected. “That’s fine. I’m going to go get another glass of wine. Do you want one?”

Namjoon’s hand gave yours a gentle squeeze as he leaned back, his eyes briefly fluttering closed. “Yeah, I'll take one,” he said, his voice relaxed but still playful. “But make sure you get something strong, ‘cause I’m pretty sure the boys are about to turn that guitar into a full-on concert.”

You giggle softly, standing up and threading your way to the kitchen. As you walked, you silently thanked whatever deity had smiled on you, allowing the evening to go so smoothly.

That is, until you turned the corner into the kitchen and froze, hearing your name called out loudly over the small crowd.

Before you could react, Meyong appeared from the crowd and wrapped you in a bear hug, squeezing all the air from your lungs.

“Wait—what the hell?” Meyong’s voice was loud, her words slightly slurred, and it only took a second before your mom-friend instincts kicked in. You cupped her flushed cheeks as she grinned up at you, her eyes full of excitement. “Oh my god, you’re here!”

“Meyong, hi,” you managed, trying not to panic.

“It’s so good to see you!” she mumbled the words happily, staring at you with that familiar starry-eyed admiration. The alcohol on her breath was evident, but you couldn’t help but smile at her infectious energy.

“It’s good to see you too,” you responded, returning the hug. But inside, your mind was racing. If Meyong was here, then Jin was probably somewhere in the mix, and that only meant one thing—this night was about to get tangled. This meant that there was no chance to avoid taking this home with you, because Meyong and Jin would undoubtedly tell absolutely everyone back home. You almost scolded yourself for forgetting the fact that your ex-roommates would also be visiting.

“When Hoseok said Joonie is bringing over a girl I just knew it was you,” she slurred sweetly, blinking affectionately at you

“And why is that?” you chuckled, trying to steer her away from the potential disaster of what she might say next as you unwrapped her hands from around you and gently pulled her toward the fridge to get her some water.

“Because you always had the fattest crush on Joonie.” She deadpanned. “Like, I knew you two were banging once you moved in together.”

“Oh my god Meyong! Keep your voice down!” you blushed furiously, quickly glancing around to make sure no one around heard your absurd conversation. This was exactly what you needed—your best friend, totally oblivious, blurting out something that could easily ruin the delicate balance you were pretending to maintain.

“Aww, Mrs. big shot lawyer is scared of talking about her feelings,” she giggled, taking the water bottle from you and twisting it. “So tell me? When did this all happen? And why didn’t you tell me you were fucking?”

You felt your heart skip a beat at her words, the colour rising in your cheeks in a way that felt downright painful. “Meyong, please, you’re making it worse,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice low while glancing around again, hoping no one was eavesdropping.

Her grin only widened as she took a long sip from the water bottle, totally oblivious to the chaos she was causing. “What? I’m just saying, it’s obvious you two are more than perfect for each other. How’s the sex?” her smile was almost wicked when she wriggled her eyebrows.

But then, as if a lightbulb went off in her head, her expression shifted, and her eyes widened in realization. “Oh! Jin owes me 100 bucks!” she said, as if everything made sense.

You blinked, a mixture of confusion and frustration flooding your system. “What?” you managed to get out, feeling like you were on the verge of losing your sanity. “Why does Jin owe you money?”

“We made a bet, he said there is no way Namjoon has the balls to confess to you, but I won!” She smiled, tacking on an unwarranted “Namjoon has balls!”

You stared at her, trying to process what she had just said. “Wait, hold on,” you said, your voice a mix of disbelief and embarrassment. “Jin bet against Namjoon confessing to me?”

Meyong nodded vigorously, clearly proud of herself, but before she could elaborate, Jin walked in.

“There you are,” his voice cut through the conversation, his face a mix of relief and amusement at the state his girlfriend was in, “I figured I’d find you here gossiping.” he looked directly at Meyong, carefully collecting her in his arms, keeping her steady.

“You owe me money,” she muttered looking up at him, completely undeterred by his shushing.

“Yeah, I figured,” he replied unamused. He carefully adjusted his grip on Meyong, who was swaying just slightly in his arms, looking utterly pleased with herself.

 Jin’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his tone shifting slightly. “Just for the record, I just figured that since Namjoon never made a move when you first met, that it would never happen.”

Jin’s words hit you like a bolt of lightning. You blinked, trying to process what he’d just said, your mind racing with confusion and disbelief.

“Namjoon liked me?”

Just then the subject of your gossip session walked in, his warm hand gently squeezing your shoulder.

You turned quickly, almost startled, as Namjoon’s presence loomed behind you. His hand on your shoulder was steady, grounding, and yet there was an unmistakable tension in the air. He must’ve sensed something was off from the way you were standing, the way your eyes lingered on him, wide with surprise.

“Everything okay?” he asked softly, his gaze flicking between you and Jin, his voice a little too casual.

Before you could respond, Meyong, still blissfully unaware of the tension she’d stirred, grinned at Namjoon. “Okay, spill. You’re dating now?” Her tone was loud enough to catch the attention of the people around you, and you felt your cheeks heat instantly. “It’s new,” Namjoon said smoothly, the practiced ease of his response both reassuring and unnerving.

“New?!” Meyong repeated, letting out a laugh that was just a little too loud. She turned to Jin, “I told you! You owe me money!” She gave a bubbly giggle, “They’re idiots in love. What did I say, babe?”

“You said it every chance you got,” Jin said dryly, though he was clearly enjoying himself, his arm protectively wrapping around her waist. “For years.”

You groaned internally, shooting Namjoon a quick glance. He gave you a subtle nod, like he was silently reminding you to play along, that he will fix it all later.

“Well, it just made sense,” you then added, trying to steer the conversation into safer waters. “We work well together. That’s all.”

Meyong squinted at you, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, honey. That’s all?” She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a stage whisper. “You telling me you’ve been sharing an apartment with him and you haven’t been climbing him like a Christmas tree every chance you got? I see the hickeys!”

You allowed yourself a second to cuss out Namjoon in your mind, trying your best not to let your face drop too dramatically.

“Meyong,” you hissed, mortified, your face burning as you felt Namjoon laugh besides you, acutely aware of his hand that found its way to your hip, pulling you into his side.

“What?” she said innocently, though her grin only widened. “I’m just saying, if I’d been living with Jin before we got together...”

“Okay!” Jin interjected, raising his hands like a referee calling for a timeout. “Let’s not traumatize our friends tonight.”

“Oh baby, we can tell them about the sex book!”

You felt your entire body flush, unable to hide the growing heat in your cheeks. “Meyong, stop!” you managed to stammer, looking desperately around the room for a distraction, but it was clear that nothing could save you now. Namjoon, however, only chuckled softly, his hand resting casually on your hip as if he were fully aware of the storm he had just inadvertently stirred up.

Meyong's grin grew impossibly wider as she wiggled her eyebrows at you. “What? It's not like we're all virgins here. We know what’s going on behind closed doors.”

“Please, for the love of all things holy,” you muttered, half laughing, half mortified.

Jin, clearly amused but still calm, gave you a reassuring smile. “You don’t have to listen to her. She’s been drinking, and her filter is long gone by now.”

Namjoon’s chuckle rumbled beside you, and he gave your hip a playful squeeze. “Don’t worry,” he said in a low, teasing voice, “She’s just excited to be part of the gossip.”

“Yeah, thanks for the water, it was nice seeing you guys,” It was almost as if Jin could sense the awkwardness clinging to you, and he lovingly tried to maneuver his girlfriend towards a seat, but she twisted in his arms,

“Babe, but the book!”

Jin shook his head with a bemused smile, clearly used to this side of Meyong, taking her hands and wrapping them around his neck as they walked. “We’ll talk about the book later,” he said calmly, gently pulling her along to the couch before she could launch into any more embarrassing details about their private life.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, the tension slowly melting from your shoulders. Glancing over at Namjoon, you half expected him to wear that casual smile of his, but instead, you were met with an almost sombre look, as if that conversation took the same toll on him.

“About that strong drink,” his eyes avoided yours, and before you could respond, he reached for a bottle of whiskey on the counter, his hand pausing midair as if he was weighing the situation. He let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh before grabbing the bottle and pouring himself a generous amount into a glass.

You tilted your head slightly, watching him carefully. There was something in his movements, a shift you hadn’t expected, and it made you wonder if the playful atmosphere had affected him more than he let on.

“Are you okay?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart racing as you stood beside him. Your fingers grazed the edge of his glass as you instinctively reached out to steady it.

Namjoon gave a fleeting smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He took a long gulp from his glass, his gaze briefly shifting away. “Yeah,” he replied, though the word lacked conviction, like he was trying to convince himself just as much as you.

Your hand found his, your thumb tracing over his knuckles gently. His words hung in the air, and something in the way he said them made your chest tighten, an uncomfortable feeling settling between you two.

He finally met your gaze, and in that moment, it was as if everything else around you disappeared. The music, the laughter, the chatter—none of it mattered. It was just the two of you standing there, caught in the quiet space between words. He parted his lips, like he was on the verge of saying something, but then he faltered, swallowing hard instead and finishing his drink in one long, steady pull.

The silence stretched between you both, heavy and thick, but neither of you moved. You could feel the weight of his emotions, even though he hadn’t said a word. It was in the way he held himself, the way his fingers tightened around his glass before he set it down on the counter with a quiet clink.

“I-” Namjoon began, but then he stopped, shaking his head slightly, as if he wasn’t sure where to start. “I think I need some air.”

You nodded, understanding more than he could probably know. “Okay,” you said softly, your thumb brushing over the back of his hand one more time before you let go.

Namjoon gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod, his shoulders lifting in a resigned breath before he stepped past you and toward the door leading out to the balcony. You watched him for a moment, chewing your lip as a million different thoughts unleashed in your mind. Maybe this was it—the moment that he realized everything had been a mistake. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been aware of the consequences so far. But perhaps now he regretted ever asking you to come along, regretted just how big the lie you spun has gotten, how it was now seeping back into your day-to-day life back home.

You lingered for a while, lost in the muddle of your thoughts, trying to steady the whirlwind in your chest. Minutes passed, but nothing seemed to quiet your restless mind. Pouring yourself a glass of wine offered only a fleeting sense of calm—kike standing in the eye of a hurricane while the chaos swirled just out of grasp.

Finally, after about fifteen minutes, you grabbed a water bottle—a little gesture that somehow cemented your resolve. You reminded yourself that this was simply what a good friend would do, and with that thought, you headed towards the balcony.

As you reached the door, you hesitated for just a second, unsure if you should interrupt the space he had taken for himself. But the thought of leaving him alone, unsure, and potentially unravelling further without you there, spurred you forward.

You stepped outside quietly, the cold air hitting your face and clearing your mind.

 Namjoon was leaning against the railing, eyes staring out at the city lights, distant and lost in thought. His posture was tense, his body language closed off, like he was carrying the weight of something heavy.

Taking a slow breath, you walked up beside him, offering the water bottle as a simple gesture. “Thought you might need this,” you said gently, your voice soft against the backdrop of the night.

Namjoon glanced at you, a brief flicker of something in his eyes before he looked back out at the view. His hand hovered over the bottle, but he didn’t take it immediately. The silence between you two felt thick, but you weren’t in a rush for him to fill it with words.

The faint blush across his cheeks was still evident even in the cold air, and being this close, you could catch the scent of spiced wine and whiskey on his breath. Maybe that was why you didn’t question it—his intentions—when he leaned in ever so slightly, caging you against the railing of the balcony. His eyes searched yours, his lips tantalizingly close, the space between you evaporating as his breath brushed against your skin.

Your fingers gripped the cold metal of the railing, grounding yourself as the city lights blurred behind him, their brightness eclipsed by the intensity of his gaze.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” He said softly, his voice low and almost reverent, as if even voicing the thought would break the spell.

You let out a breathy laugh, a huff of exasperation you couldn’t quite contain. “Namjoon,” you said, barely above a whisper. “There’s no one around.”

The words should have been a reason to stop, to call this what it was: a charade, a performance. But instead, his lips curved into the faintest of smiles, his eyes shimmering with something you couldn’t name.

“I know,” he murmured. His lips hovered just above yours, his breath mingling with yours in the chilled air, reminding you just how intoxicated you both were.

 For a heartbeat, he froze, as though waiting for you to stop him.

But you didn’t.

The kiss was soft at first, a tentative exploration, as though he was waiting for you to pull away. But when you didn’t, when you leaned into him, he pressed harder, more insistent. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was the shattering of every barrier you’d built, the collapse of all your carefully laid plans to keep this friendship intact, to keep it fake.

Your hands found his chest, clutching at the fabric of his sweater as his moved to cup your face, tilting you closer like you were something precious. His thumb brushed over your cheekbone, sending shivers down your spine as he deepened the kiss, his resolve crumbling as fast as yours.

He left you breathless, every nerve in your body alight, your chest rising and falling in sync with his. The warmth of his forehead against yours grounded you for a moment, as if the world had tilted on its axis, the alcohol in your blood suddenly going to your head, and this was the only thing holding you steady.

His forehead stayed pressed against yours, his breath shaky when he pulled back. You stood there, still reeling from the kiss, your heart pounding in your chest as his breath mingled with yours. The warmth of his forehead against yours felt like the only anchor in a sea of confusion. You weren’t sure if you were both still caught up in the intoxication of the night, the wine and whiskey blurring your sense of reality, or if there was something deeper at play.

But then he spoke, voice raw, hoarse, like the word scraped out of his throat, and cut through the haze.

“Fuck.”

It was the kind of word that felt like a confession, like a moment of clarity in the middle of chaos. And as much as you wanted to believe it was just a slip, a fleeting moment brought on by alcohol and the weight of your shared history, something deep inside you couldn't shake the feeling that it was more than that.

You pulled back slightly, your hands still resting against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. His eyes were wide, almost panicked, searching yours as if looking for something—anything—that would make this make sense. But nothing did. Not the kiss, not his reaction, and certainly not the way your heart refused to calm down.

This had been a mistake, hadn’t it?

A drunken mistake. A slip. And now, standing in the aftermath, you couldn't tell whether you were relieved or devastated.

His lips parted like he was going to say something, but then the words fell short. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head slightly, as if trying to clear the fog that had settled over him.

“I… I didn’t mean to… I don’t know what I was thinking,” Namjoon muttered, his voice thick with frustration.

You swallowed hard, your hands still gripping his sweater as you tried to make sense of it all. “Neither did I.”

The weight of the moment hung heavy between you, both of you searching for an explanation, but finding absolutely none.

[euphoricfilter]

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• ° kinktober day 15

[day fifteen: fingering]

pairing: jungkook x f. reader

tags/ warnings: pwp, fingering, a singular slap to the pussy, squirting, cumming untouched, cum swallowing? sort of? cum is ingested basically, all very lighthearted and fun

notes: smut straight under the cut. and once again unedited so ignore any mistakes pls <3

kinktober masterlist

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

Jungkook’s hands glide over your covered ass, greedy fingers pulling your skirt up, bunched at your hips as he presses his fingers into your bare skin. They dip that little bit lower, teasing as he parts your folds, arousal clinging to his fingers as he teases over your entrance before pressing over your clit.

Your hips buck, back arching ever so slightly at the unexpected thrum of pleasure that has more slick seeping past your walls.

“So pretty” he murmurs, “pretty and mine”

You hum at that, shaking your ass as he lightly grazes over your pussy, pads of his fingers so close to where you needed him.

“Just for you” your voice barely above a whisper, eyes slipping shut as he presses over your hole, walls clenching around nothing before he’s pushing a finger into you, barely enough, barely a stretch.

You hum, rutting backwards as his thumb rubs over your clit, cock stirring beneath your stomach when a moan slips past your lips.

“Yeah?” he groans, index finger teasing over your entrance.

Desperate, almost pitiful whine dripping off your tongue as your fingers tangle into the sheets of the bed as he presses another finger into you.

Less so painful, that ease of your walls splitting open, pussy clenching at the familiarity of being pulled open and stuffed full.

He curls his fingers, pressing into you until knuckle deep; your thighs quivering when he barely brushes over your sweet spot.

“Jungkook” it falls past your lips before you can even think about it, mind merely a mush of his name and sluggish pleasure that slowly starts to build as his fingers pick up their pace.

Your cheeks flushing, heated when you hear the sound of your own sopping cunt squelching around his fingers.

Your mouth falls open in a silent moan when he presses a third finger into you, slowly feeling that twinge of a burn at the stretch, fresh wave of slick coating his hands shiny.

You can’t help the hiccup of a whine that claws up your throat, with ever unintentional nudge of your clit, tingly perfect pleasure crawling down your body, pads of his fingers pressing deliciously over your sweet spot.

“Good girl” he groans, fingers curling, intentions slowly becoming clear when you start to feel your orgasm coil in your stomach.

“Gonna cum for me?” his cock jolts beneath you, his own slowly building pleasure increasing with every short burst of friction against his straining cock.

You nod, “So close” you moan, chest stuttering for a full breath as he thrusts his fingers into you, touching you in places only he could reach—creamy slick clinging to his skin.

“Yeah?” he coos, intentional as he curls his fingers that little bit harder over that little patch of spongy tissue, pushing you closer and closer to release.

“Shit—” you moan, Jungkook’s name falling off your lips like it were the only word you knew as you reeled closer to the edge. You can feel it, rush of pleasure making your toes numb as your mind blanks. Cry of Jungkook’s name accompanied by his own pleasured grunt as you cum, squirting all over his thigh and the sheets below you.

He slips his fingers from your pussy, rubbing over your clit as your cum splashes onto his hand. He makes sure to prolong it, fingers only leaving your sensitive little pearl before he’s back thrumming over your clit once more.

“Good girl” he groans, your thighs twitching as another spurt of watery cum splashes against his hand, whiny little moan escaping you as he draws out your high—skin soaked and sheets wet with your orgasm.

“Always so good for me” he murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of your neck when you slowly start to come back to him, lust muddled mind slowly simmering as your take a deep breath. Thighs still shaking that little bit as he thumbs over your clit.

“Shit, Kook” you start, hands fumbling over his slowly softening cock, “Did you cum in your pants again?” you look over at your hand, sticky white cum coating your fingers.

He tips his head back, groaning as he watches you lick his release off your hands, uncaring as he presses his fingers back into your pussy, more worried about cleaning him up.

“Can’t help it when you look so pretty. Love it when you squirt” he lands a slap over your cunt, hips jolting at that lick of pleasureful pain.

“Always the charmer” you huff, body lax and floppy over his lap, more than happy to let him play with your body if it meant you could stay sprawled over him for that little bit longer.