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neowinestainedress · 1 year ago

Text

SECRET — lee jeno

𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐄: secret

𝐏��𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lee jeno x fem!reader

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: smut, fluff (at the end), established relationship, kink discovery, relationship development

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: jeno has a secret he can’t tell anybody, not even you.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: sub!jeno, dom!reader (it’s their first time reversing roles so they’re both exploring how it feels like), implied masturb*tion, n!pple play, kinda hand-free org*sm/coming untouched, an*l fingering, riding, overstimulation, praise kink, minor degradation, size kink (but reversed??? reader is not bigger than jeno but somehow jeno feels small and likes to feel like that), ch*king, names used for jeno (baby boy, good boy, pup/puppy, pretty boy), names used for reader (ma’am, miss, mommy), big d!ck jeno, there’s nothing wrong with being a sub but jeno has issues because he has to always be strong so it doesn’t feel right for him, count the times I say ‘please’ in this (not my fault jeno is the bestest boy ever), aftercare (and kink discussion)

𝐖𝐂: 10.202k

𝐀/𝐍: a gift for my love @yellowgirllsblog, I converted her to subjenoism so I’m on a mission to let more of you see the light of the day and appreciate sub!jeno more. ps: you will never catch me call twitter ‘x.’ enjoy and if you do, please reblog and leave feedback! love u!

Jeno has a secret.

Once you’ll find out what it is, it won’t seem a big deal, but to him, it is.

It’s so big, so stressful, and so shameful, he can’t even talk to you — his sweet, loving girlfriend — about it.

It’s stupid, really. Deep down Jeno is well aware of how dumb it all sounds, but every time he faces it, it looks like a big mountain he can’t climb — and that will probably crumble on top of him, smashing him on the ground.

Stupid or not, big or small, it haunts him every day. Yes, every day. At first, Jeno thought it was just a temporary thing, something that piqued at his curiosity for fun, but soon enough, he fell down the rabbit hole. Looking back at it now, he probably was buried deep in the rabbit hole since forever but he —and the perception others had of him— did a good job at polishing the place real nice and don’t make him realize where he was.

Jeno accepted he is far gone a while ago, but he still can’t wrap his head around it. How is that possible? How could he, out of all the people, like something like this, be like this.

And that’s why he keeps it to himself, praying that if he doesn’t act on it, if he pushes it out of his mind, it will just leave. He’s strong, and fit, and he pounds into you every night, giving it to you like you want it. He can’t be anything else other than this, nothing but a confident, strong man that can’t be vulnerable.

But it turns out that pushing it out of his mind is not as easy as it seems. Jeno might be weaker than he realizes when he keeps going back at it, sipping on it at small doses, almost as if whatever he is holding in it’s a drug he doesn’t want to get addicted to — not knowing he already is. But for now — and forever, he thinks — this is just a fantasy, he can’t get addicted to something that is not real, to a version of him, no matter how authentic it feels, that can’t come out. But he slips further every day, hiding in your shared bedroom with his laptop or phone when you’re at work and he can have a bit of time to himself, when he stares at the box with your toys and lets time pass by because he doesn’t dare to do the next step, and lastly when he fucks his fist with your used panties and calls your name… or well, how he wishes he could call you.

And then clarity hits him again, making him groan as he rushes to the bathroom on wobbly legs, throwing your stained panties inside and starting the washing machine while he questions himself; why? He feels pathetic; masturbating over you as if he needs to fantasize about you, as if he doesn’t have you every night, and every day, and yet, it’s still not enough, it’s not how he wants you. But he feels guilty, he feels like he won’t be enough if he confessed to you, if he let you know his secret. And most of all, he’s terrified he’ll lose you. This version of him is not the one you picked, is not the one you love. And he’d damn himself forever if he lost you for something so silly.

So, he sighs, takes a deep breath, and then exhales deeply, rubbing his teary eyes before pushing his tired body up from the wall to walk back to your bedroom and fix himself.

Jeno has a secret, and he will take it to his grave.

Your boyfriend has been acting strange for a while now. At first, you figured he was stressed because of work, but now, you don’t think that’s the only reason.

Your brain goes crazy, imagining the worst-case scenario, the top one: he wants to break up with you. So, you start acting strange, too. Panicking, over-analyzing everything, and mostly, bracing yourself for the worst. Every time he starts talking to you with a serious tone, you fear that those words will come out of his lips, especially when before starting the conversation he stares at you for minutes and thinks so loudly you can almost hear his thoughts.

But the worst never comes, this goes on for weeks, and even if your boyfriend does act strange, nothing of his weirdness leads to a breakup, literally nothing can make it plausible, and even your brain gives up keeping you up at night with the fear of you losing him.

Jeno has never been so touchy. His hands are always on your body, any excuse is valid to let his fingers wander on your skin; if he needs to help you pick up something, if he needs to reach for the remote, if he has to leave for work, anything as long as he gets to feel your warm body.

And that doesn’t shock you much, Jeno has always made it clear how much he finds you attractive and how obsessed and in love he is with you and your body, but well, not like this. His fingers seem almost fearful, and so are his lips when he kisses you, and even something about his eyes doesn’t seem quite right. And then there are those unsaid words that you can see pending from his lips, and yet, they never come out. Every phrase Jeno starts is followed by a stutter and a quick shake of the head, other times his cheeks turn bright red as he zones out and you have to shake him out of whatever he is thinking, and then he goes back to act though and shrug it all off as if nothing happened.

You don’t get it, and every time you try to ask if something’s wrong, he acts surprised and tells you everything’s alright. You don’t buy it, but you feel that if something’s annoying him, he will come talk to you when he’s ready, so you leave him alone.

Jeno has a secret, and you have to find out in a way you don’t like.

You don’t like to roam around and stick your nose in things that aren’t yours, honestly, you hate doing so because you would hate if somebody did that with your things.

But you’re bored, laying on your bed, waiting for Jeno to come out of the shower, and your phone is somewhere in the living room, and you’re bored.

Picking up his phone to play some games is not an invasion of privacy, it’s the only thing you do with his phone, and Jeno is fine with it — he even lets you download those ugly, ads-filled, games that pop up in ads of other annoying games, he doesn’t get them, he hates the graphic of most of them, and he doesn’t understand how you can survive so many ads, but it’s fine, anything that makes you happy because you saved the King from drowning, cleaned a hotel room or built a pretty land.

You would’ve minded your business if it wasn’t for one of those stupid games and ads, causing the app to crash and make you huff.

You’re pissed as you click the left bottom on the bottom of his screen to see all the apps and go back to your game, hoping it won’t die again, you’re so caught up that you almost miss the other window of Twitter and some other apps he used before.

But well, what you see is too shocking to make you go back to the business of your hotel.

You freeze, and a lump forms in your throat as you blink speechless with your mouth wide open. You feel the world could collapse under your feet but then you shake your head.

Dumb asshole, it’s fine. He might be bisexual, he’s not using you as a beard, right?

But you still stare at the video in shock, the only focus is on the naked man with a choker, moaning while the vibrator edges him, and the playful touches on his nipples make his hips rut.

And when Jeno comes out of the shower you’re still dumbfounded. Your eyes look up, and his smile drops as soon as he sees your face, it looks as if you saw a ghost, and he fears something has happened to you, but he barely manages to let out ‘are you ok?’ before you stop him.

“Are you gay?” You ask, nothing of the more rational questions you came up with before passing your lips.

He giggles nervously, eyes skimming you. “What?

You feel a lump in your throat and then reply. “What is this?” you lift the phone, video playing on mute, you can’t bear to hear the moans again. “Why are you watching porn and why are you watching porn focused on men? If you want to try something out you can tell me, but please, tell me I’m not your bearding girlfriend and this wasn’t all a lie.”

“A lie?” Jeno screams, feeling his heart pump hard in his chest. “It’s not and I’m not gay, I might be bi, but I never wanted to question much about it but... Wait, would it make you love me less?”

“No, God, no, but I don’t understand this,” you squeak, voice breaking a bit for the confusion you feel and also because his face dropped even more.

“It’s nothing,” Jeno says, abruptly taking the phone from your hand and closing the tab. His hands are shaking, he can’t believe he’s so fucking stupid, how could he not think about it? He always makes sure to close everything so that you can’t find out.

“Nothing?” You ask, eyes wide and a bit of sarcasm in your tone. “Why are you watching that kind of video...”

“I — I... It’s just something dumb the boys sent me,” he justifies, scratching his neck, but his eyes are everywhere except on yours.

You would believe him if only he wasn’t so evasive with his answers and body language, he’s a nerve wreck, he has to be hiding something. “Is it? Why would they do it?”

“I don’t know, you know they’re dumb,” he says and then pauses, biting his lips nervously before he gathers the courage to speak. “Did you watch it?”

You furrow, mumbling for a few seconds before replying as if it was obvious. “Yes.”

“All?”

“Yes, it’s not that long,” you reply without getting where he wants to go with these questions.

Jeno nods and bites his lips, strategically avoiding your gaze.

“Jeno...” You call and he hesitantly raises his face. “Are you sure you’re not lying to me? If you like men and only them it’s fine, I would be heartbroken, but I want you to be happy, and I —”

“Stop it! It’s not that,” he snaps, face burning red when your eyes meet and you’re looking at him with curiosity. He feels doomed, you don’t even get it so how can you be into it?

“Oh.” You gasp. “Oh.” It clicks. Your mind replays the video, catching the details you missed, and you get it. He wants those things to be done to him. He doesn’t want a man; he wants you to do that to him.

Jeno stills, fearing the worst from you. “I’m not into it, that video just came up and I was curious,” he tries to save himself but it’s too late.

“No,” you stop him, “you are into it. Don’t lie to me,” your tone drops a bit, and you study his reaction, he trembles, and his face reddens even more. You’ve never seen him so embarrassed and vulnerable in all those years you’ve dated. Jeno, Lee Jeno, blushing bright red and stammering on his words right in front of your eyes. You’re dreaming, that must be it, maybe you have a fantasy you’re not aware of yet and this is your brain poking the thought into you.

But you shake your head, rub your eyes, and he’s still there.

“Jeno?” You call his name again when he gives you his back, quickly trying to find his clothes and make this less embarrassing, considering the only thing covering him is the white towel he put on before. “Look at me,” your voice comes out stern when he doesn’t listen to you and with a big step forward you have him trapped against the wall. Your fingers reach his chin, lifting his face resolutely.

But Jeno still doesn’t reply; you see his Adam’s apple move in his neck and you feel his breath get discontinued, but nothing comes from his mouth.

You have two choices; play the game he wants you to play or have a serious conversation about this. You’d rather go for the last one, you’re not so sure you’d be a master at doing what he wants you to do, but it seems like there’s no room for a decent talk right now.

You cup his chin, squeezing it enough that his lips pout, something he always does to you. His eyes widen, and his hand immediately wraps around your wrist, yet he doesn’t try to push you away.

“Tell me, Nono,” you coo, voice low and teasing, “do you want to be teased like that?”

He shakes his head, quick movements causing some still damp strands of hair to fall on his eyes, “No, no, I don’t.”

You scoff, shaking your head before leaning closer. “Why are you lying to me?”

He mumbles, struggling to talk for the embarrassment and the hold you have on his face. “I’m not,” he cries out.

“Oh, really?” You ask, letting his face go, making him lose his balance now that he can’t hold onto you. “Then you have nothing to hide, right?” He nods, biting his thumb and looking at you like a dog with his tail between his legs. “So, I guess you won’t mind if I took your phone right now, right?”

His eyes widen and his thumb falls from his lips. “Bu-but wh-why?”

You burst out laughing, holding your stomach in an exaggerated mocking move. “Bu-but wh-why?” you taunt him, imitating his high-pitched trembling voice. “Phone, now.”

Jeno’s not sure how to feel. This is what he wanted, right? And you don’t seem… mad. So why does he feel so embarrassed as he grabs the phone and hands it to you?

You smile and then open Twitter. You notice he has two accounts and when you scroll through the likes, the retweets, and more, you’re speechless. Well, now that you have him in front of you, so pliant, shaking, and red in the face, it’s not surprising anymore, but the Jeno you’re used to is not like this.

Men tied up and edged until they whimper and beg to come, rough face sitting, pegging videos, and captions about ‘good boys’ being used as sex toys by their ‘dominant mommy’, are all you see. You sigh and throw the phone on the bed carelessly.

“I’m sorry,” Jeno cries out, falling on his knees right in front of you. “I didn’t mean to disappoint you. I don’t need that, I swear I don’t, I can still be your usual boyfriend, I’ll fuck you so good, I promise I —”

You shut him up with a kiss, it’s rough and quick, enough to leave him surprised and, momentary, speechless. “Will you stop mumbling no-sense?”

“But I —”

“No, shh,” you say, thumb on his lips to keep him quiet. “Did I say anything? Did I look disappointed?” You ask, tilting your head to the side and he shakes his head. Honestly, he has no idea, he was too worried panicking to actually pay attention to your reaction. “Did I ask you to apologize? Do I look disgusted to you?”

“N-no,” he mumbles, but his eyes are still leaking tears.

“No, exactly,” you reassure. Your hand moves to the back of his neck, wrapping around the long hair at the nape before tugging and yanking his head back. “Now can we be serious and face this or do you want to keep crying at my feet?”

That shouldn’t make his dick twitch in the — now incredibly tight —towel but it does, still, he hopes you didn’t catch it, and nods swiftly.

“Good,” you smile slyly. You saw it, but that’s something you’re going to deal with later. “Stop lying and be honest with me. Do you want me to do this to you?” Your other hand moves down on his neck, creeping on his toned chest until it reaches his hard nipples, and when you brush one, he whimpers. Jeno tries to hide it, closing his eyes and pressing his lips together, but his body is reacting on its own, and it has never been more of an open book.

You never paid his body much attention, always letting him do anything to you, so this is… new, and interesting.

Your fingers play with the other one, rubbing against the sensitive tip and watching him struggle to keep it all in. “Sensitive much, aren’t you?”

He nods quickly, head falling down but you tug it back again, making him groan lowly.

“Head up,” you order, leaning down to come face to face, breath fanning against his, “and answer me. Do you like it when I play with your nipples?”

“Yeah — yeah, I like it,” he breathes out, leaning in to kiss your lips but you pull away.

“Ah, ah,” you click your tongue, shaking your head, “not yet, baby boy. You’ve been naughty, keeping important things from me. So now you’re going to earn it, alright?”

Jeno nods faster than he would want to, hips shaking on his heels in excitement like a dog wagging his tail.

You think it’s cute, he’s cute. And you still don’t quite know how to do this, how to be on the other side, but something inside of you makes you feel confident enough to think it’s worth giving a try. You like to be on the receiving end, so you have to give him what you usually like to receive. Also, you’ve encountered femdom content before, even liked it, never explored it much, but this might be fun.

“Words.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You raise a brow at the title, but you like the way it rolls from his lips, and it makes your body react, pussy clenching around nothing and stomach twisting in anticipation.

“Good boy,” you reward him. You love being called a good girl, so you think he’s going to like that too, and he does. His smile grows bigger, cheeks tinting red again, and most importantly, his dick reacts, twitching against the towel.

You think it’s time to set it free, so your hand grabs the hem and pulls the white clothes off him. Jeno whimpers, hands quickly going to cover his hard, throbbing dick — well, trying to, it’s too big to hide anything.

You laugh at his lame attempt, slapping his hands away. “Getting shy now? I’ve seen it and felt it countless times, don’t you agree? Or, I don’t know, have you forgotten? Maybe your brain stops working when you’re… like this,” you finish with a teasing look from his head to his bent knees, rubbing against the hard floor and becoming red.

Jeno shivers, shaking his head, but for some reason, he feels even more embarrassed. He’s not used to being in this position, and all the times he imagined to be here, he didn’t think you would be like this. You’re not much shorter than him, but you are, and now you’re towering over him, your gaze is piercing through his soul, and your voice is sultry like it has never been. He wanted this so badly but even if he fantasized for months, now, he doubts he can take you.

You sigh, rolling your head. “How many times do I have to say it? Words.”

Jeno frowns momentarily, he knows you’re having a ball because usually, he wants you to talk back to him even if he’s fucking the fourth orgasm out of you. But his ‘anger’ doesn’t last. He nods, and then apologizes. “Sorry, I’m so sorry, ma’am. You can see it.”

“Of course, I can,” you say, kneeling to his eye level, “it’s mine.” Two of your fingers brush on his hard cock, tracing the thick vein that run on the side, the one that rub your sensitive walls so good when he’s pounding into you.

He nods quickly, swallowing hard to don’t moan shamelessly, and then stutters on his words. “You-yours. You can do — do whatever you want.”

You smile widely and tilt your head because it’s not a dominant smile. You might like this a lot. You might like this more than you anticipated. There’s something thrilling about having him like this, in your hands, to play with, to tease, to edge, to push to the limit. He’s yours, like always, and yet, in a way he has never been.

“Tell me what you want me to do?” You order, those videos are not enough to give you the green light. You need to hear it from him, a bit because you’re lost on your path, but also because you need to hear him describe those things out loud and beg you to do that to him.

Jeno thinks his face might burn up in a second. Sure, if he ever dared to bring this up to you in a conversation, he would’ve had to explain it to you, but he would’ve been dressed, not hard, and his brain would’ve been functioning. Now he’s none of these things. Yet, he tries.

“I — I want you,” he starts, wetting his lips. but he fails to find the words. You want explicit things, he knows it, he can see it in your eyes burning up with desire, but he wants to be honest first, at least now that he has a bit of rationality left. “I want to be your good boy. I want to — to just give up control for once and let you do everything. I want you to control me, to move me around, to make me feel light, to make me feel like I’m… nothing but not really nothing, I want to…” he gulps, forcing himself to keep eye contact because he wants to be good, but it’s not easy. Nothing happened yet, and he’s already a victim of the electricity that’s running in the air. “I want to don’t think. I want you to fuck my brain out until I forget who I am, I want you to tell me what to do, to order it to me. But I also want to feel safe… taken care of.”

It takes you a while to metabolize everything he told you, especially the last part, and you put a reminder in your brain to discuss that later. But now you kiss him, finally giving him what he craves. You wanted to make him wait a bit longer, but you feel like he needs it. It seems that all of this has been bothering him more than you think, and he needs comfort.

“And I’m going to give it to you, if you trust me,” you say when you pull away, softly caressing his cheek with your other hand.

“I do, I trust you,” he replies, hips rubbing against your hand. You give him a quick, stern look and he stops, smile dropping.

“Get on the bed and you won’t have to hump my hand like a puppy in heat,” you order and he’s quickly — stumbling and almost falling — on his feet, walking to the bed.

Once he’s laying on the bed, you follow him, crawling on top of him, your legs trapping him down. You leave kisses on his neck, and as a response his head rolls back, leaving you more room to paint his skin with bites and kisses. And while he’s distracted with that, your hands reach his nipples. His hips buck up and he whimpers.

He’s so sensitive, you can’t believe you didn’t discover this before.

Your fingers play with his sensitive buds, at first, you just rub your fingers on them, but then you get more adventurous studying his reaction. Jeno likes it when you pinch them between two fingers, it makes him hiss and moan, while his hips grind against you. He also likes it when you roll them, low curses escaping his tortured pink lips.

After a while, you decide to pay attention to his whole chest. You won’t lie, you always loved his tits, but you appreciated them from afar, when they were wrapped under the skintight white shirt he loves to wear, or when they played hide and seek under his loose tank tops. When he fucks you, your hands always wander somewhere else, busy trying to hold onto his arms and back for dear life. But now, your hands caress his skin, cupping them as you try to hide a giggle and stay in your role — you definitely need to work on your dominance — and tease his nipples every now and then.

“Fuck,” Jeno bites his tongue, dick rutting against your body, droplets of white shamelessly dripping from his head, staining his length and abs.

“You’re so sensitive it’s almost pathetic,” you try out, testing the waters. You fear you might trigger him, but instead, he moans louder at your words, throwing his head back more, and his dick throbs. “I’m barely touching you and you’re already a mess. You dreamed this so long, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he whimpers, his hips still grinding against you, desperately chasing for release, but you pull away. “No, please,” his voice breaks and tears swell at the corner of his eyes. Jeno is so fucking pretty like this, you have to fight back the urge to reach for the phone and snap a picture.

“Just relax, and focus on the parts I’m touching,” you say, kissing him to shut his whines down. “Let me take care of you.”

And he would, he does, he wants you to take care of him. If only this wasn’t so embarrassing, whimpering and squirming just from having his nipples played with. He wants to hold it in, he can push back an orgasm, but all his good intentions fly out of the window when your mouth wraps around the left sensitive one and your fingers pinch and twist the other one.

It’s not his fault he’s so sensitive.

“Oh God,” he cries out through gritted teeth, knuckles going white for how hard his hands are clenching around the sheets. Jeno feels dizzy, your mouth sucks harshly on his sensitive spot, quickly moving from one side to the other, never leaving him with no stimulation, your fingers are just as swift at taking the place your lips left. “Please, please, fuck,” he begs, hips stuttering messily, and legs parting as his body jerks with pleasure.

“Be a good boy and come for me,” you mumble against his skin, eyes looking up at his. And that’s the last drop for him; the realization that you saw him — and made him — this weak, even the slight humiliation he feels with it.

Jeno comes undone. Long, whiny moans and whimpers slurring out of his plump lips as his body stills before breaking into violent trembles, it’s powerful and overwhelming, and it makes him cry. Mumbles of your name follow when you don’t stop, fingers and tongue moving quickly on his nipples.

“Please, please, stop,” he cries, trying to push you away, “can’t take it anymore.”

You pull away, snickering as you watch the cum drip down his body. His chest is heaving, and his body is slumped against the headboard.

“Was it good?”

Jeno nods, his movements are slow, and his eyelids are almost close, but he still makes out your face, and smiles shyly. “More,” he begs and then adds, “please. If you want to.”

You smile, he’s so polite. “Are you sure you can take more?”

“Yes, yes, I just — I needed to calm down,” he explains, running a hand through his hair that covered his eyes messily.

“Lay on the bed,” you order before standing up.

He follows your order, feeling his body ache as he gets in position, but it all fades in the background when his gaze falls on your body, watching you move to throw your clothes on the floor.

“So,” you’re on top of him, you got rid of your skirt and top, the only clothes on your body are your — drenched — panties and the bra, “what do you want me to do with you?”

Jeno thought the embarrassing part had passed, but, lord, if he was wrong. Because he’s not prepared in the slightest to ask you what he’s about to ask. You will break up with him, this will be the last straw.

“Pup?” Your voice brings him out of his delirium, and he coughs. “You with me?”

He nods, struggling to find the words. “Please,” he whines, “don’t — don’t leave me.”

“Leave you?” You ask, a small frown forms on your forehead while your head lightly bends to the side to look at him. You almost look so innocent and harmless like this, but you’re not. You have all the power and control, and Jeno loves this and hates this at the same time. Maybe all of this is more mental than what he thought in the first place, or maybe he needs to relax, stop worrying so much, and just beg you. Beg you to fuck him, beg you to turn him into a brainless mess in the same way he had done in these past few months: pleading with his face smashed against a pillow to muffle his pathetic moans and his fist wrapped around his cock or his fingers inside of him, fooling himself that was you doing that to him.

“Please, fuck me,” he breaks, eyes panicking and looking around the room before you grab his face with a strong old on his chin.

“Say it again,” you order. Your face is relaxed now and the pout on your lips is rapidly swiped away by a sly smirk.

“Please, please, fuck me, ma’am?” He asks, eyes softening as he looks into yours. He’s such a good boy, so obedient, so, so good. So, you’re about to give him what he wants, and what you want, grabbing the base of his hardening dick and teasing it against your pussy, moving the crotch of the panties to the side, but he surprises you.

“No,” Jeno cries, voice breaking again, “not like this. Not now.”

You stop, stilling and looking at him, eyes blinking as you try to understand what he means. “Not like this? And how do you want me to fuck you?”

“I — I,” he stutters, flashes of warmth heating his body up again, not that it ever really stopped, to be honest, it just keeps getting worse.

“You — you?” You urge, mocking him, mimicking his voice with a condescending tone.

He frowns offended — and his dick throbs, but he won’t pay attention to that — but then goes on. “I want your — your fingers.”

“Oh,” you say, a smug grin on your face. “A handjob?” You know what he wants, you know where he wants it, but what you want, is to mess up with him.

“No, no,” he whines, shaking his head, reaching for your hand with his before you slap it away, making him groan in annoyance. “Please.”

“Please and no, are those the words that a good pup says?”

“No, miss, I’m sorry.”

“Good, then use your big boy words and tell me what you want. Details, or I won’t give it to you.”

Jeno swallows, inhaling deeply before confessing. “I want your fingers in my ass, please. I want you to fuck me with your fingers, miss.”

“Oh, now that’s clear,” you say, smiling tenderly and patting his head. He melts under your touch, and you keep a reminder to yourself to head pat him more often. “Good boy, telling me exactly what he needs.”

You get up to grab the lube from the drawer but when you open it, it’s not there. You scowl, scratching your head as you try to remember if you finished it and didn’t buy it again, but you don’t use it that often, so it can’t be.

“Where the hell —” you stop when, turning around, you see the blue bottle peeking from under the bed, you kneel to grab it and see that it’s badly closed. “You fucked yourself before?” You enquire, tilting your head, watching his face flush bright red even more, he tries to avoid your gaze, but you trot to him and force his face on you. “You were so desperate you couldn’t help but fuck yourself with your fingers?”

“I’m — I’m sorry, miss, I didn’t mean to,” he justifies, throat dry and heart beating fast. He doesn’t want to disappoint you, he would’ve waited, he wouldn’t have done that, but he needed that, he was terrible at putting this fantasy behind and he needed a release. But he’s still you’re good boy, right? You’re not mad at him for this?

You scoff, clicking your tongue, crawling on the bed. “You didn’t mean to, sure… fucking yourself behind my back, pff,” you scoff. “Tell me, were you thinking of me? My fingers deep inside of you? My hand wrapped around the base of your cock?” Jeno nods eagerly as you pour lube on your fingertips. “Were you calling my name? Whimpering like the desperate puppy that you are? Calling me ma’am and miss, maybe even mommy when you fuck yourself good enough,” all throughout the talk your fingers slip deep inside of him, making him gasp and hold onto the sheets under him.

“Fuck,” he curses, not expecting you to push two fingers inside with no warning. But the surprise turns into bliss in the beat of an eye. Your fingers are slender, and yes, they’re not as long and thick as his are, but they are yours. And you’re so good at moving them inside of him, curling them up, moving them with a firm rhythm, reaching the bottom, and then pulling out, that he has nothing to complain about. “Feels so good,” he somehow manages to let you know. You think it’s cute, his voice doesn’t sound like the usual, it’s whiny, trembling, and full of desperation. His eyes are watery, and you think the red on his cheeks won’t disappear soon.

Jeno is lost in the pleasure, thinking he has never felt better, he’s almost relaxed, lulling in the sensation that sends sparks down his spine. But you want to give him more and your other hand folds his balls, making him hiss and shaking him out of that haze.

“It’s alright, baby boy,” you reassure him, but he’s not sure. Especially when you spit on his dick, adding to the mess of his cum, and run your hand on his length. He wishes you would keep doing this, but instead, you torture him; while your fingers work him open, your hand focuses on his frenulum, massaging his most sensitive spot until he’s a crying and trembling mess again.

“No, no,” he whines when your lips start kissing his leaking tip. “Sensitive — I’m…” his voice breaks and dies in his throat when your lips wrap around it. He has you everywhere and he’s not used to this. He’s not used to feeling so much and giving so little — in his mind, to give you nothing, but to you, he’s giving you a lot. This vulnerable side of him is much more than anything else. “I — I can touch you, I can —”

You shut him up with a slap on his thigh. “You can lay there and take it,” you say firmly but without stopping your movements.

He nods quickly, lips pressed in a thin line, but the pleasure is so big that his moans and whimpers just rumble in his chest.

“Moan, Jeno,” you call him out. “I want to hear you moan for me.”

“But —”

“But?” You scold, glaring at him and stilling your fingers inside him. “Are you going to talk back to me and tell me what to do?” He shakes his head quickly, mumbling apologizes. “I think so, do you want to be my good boy?”

“Yes, yes, please,” he cries, hips bucking up, at first you think he’s doing that to feel your fingers but he’s just that desperate. He truly acts like a puppy too excited to be your good boy to even think straight, his body moving on its own. If he had a tail, he would wiggle it like crazy.

“You want to be my good pup?” You ask again, your fingers pull out and then push in, dragging a low gasp from his lips.

“Yes, I want to. Want to be your good puppy, please.”

“Then do what I tell you to do,” you remind him, your hands go back to his cock, throbbing on his abs and leaking pre-cum. It’s almost… funny how big he is —body and dick— and how helpless and powerless he looks, begging for attention as if he couldn’t just take it from you, ordering you, fucking you. But he lays there, pathetically drooling on the pillow, while his dick drips on his stomach and his ass clenches around your two fingers.

His sounds are like music to your ears, and the vision in front of your eyes makes your pussy drool more, you can’t believe you’re so turned on when fifteen minutes ago you were almost throwing a tantrum for this. But Jeno looks like the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen, and you wonder if he feels this way when it’s the other way around. All you know is that you’re mesmerized, eyes stuck where your bodies connect, his hole fluttering around you, the lube squelching in and out, and his toned, strong legs spread open just for you. Then they move up, the way his dick is throbbing in your hand and spills pre-cum, his chest rising fast, his hands clenched around the sheets. And his face, his eyes are closed but you know they’re rolled back behind his eyelids, his lips are swollen and dark pink, parted open to fill the room with the most desperate whines, his hair is a mess again, scattered around the pillow and his forehead.

“Fuck, fuck,” he whines, lifting his hips from the mattress when you hit him deeper and your hand starts moving faster on him. “Feels good, feels so good, you’re so good, you’re — you’re perfect, I love you, I love you,” he cries out, head rolled back as he lets the pleasure rush through his body.

You smirk at his words, the desperation and devotion behind his voice making shivers run down your spine. “Are you going to come?” You ask, already knowing the answer, watching him nod quickly. “Yeah? Will you be a good boy and come from my fingers only?” Your hand leaves his dick, eliciting a disappointed noise from him, but his breath gets cut off when you add another finger inside of him.

“Please,” he cries, the stretch of the three fingers making his hips move even more from the mattress, only to stop when your hand, flat on his stomach, keeps him pinned down.

“Stop squirming, or I won’t make you come and keep edging you until you pass out.”

It should be a threat, but it doesn’t even sound so bad to him, but not now, maybe one day, now he wants you, and wants to come as soon as possible. So, his hips still, the nervous twitching passing down to his leg but it’s fine, it doesn’t get in the way.

“Good boy,” you praise, patting his head, and making him smile. “Be even a better boy and come for me.”

You don’t have to tell him twice before his orgasm erupts, his body shakes before stilling completely, spurts of white spilling on his stomach, even reaching the sheets as his cock throbs in release and his hole flutters around your three fingers that are still pumping in and out at a fast speed. Slurs of curses roll from his tongue, and so does your name, while his chest rises fast before his body slumps against the mattress.

“Please, please, stop,” he cries out, feeling overstimulated.

You listen, pulling your fingers out and cleaning them on his thigh before leaning forward to kiss him.

“Want you, mommy, please,” he pleads, tears rolling down his temple while his hands look for the warmth of your body. “Please, fuck me, need to feel you.”

“Calm down,” you say, giggling at his cuteness and eagerness and get rid of your panties, throwing them behind with no care, and then follows the bra.

Jeno feels less embarrassed now that you’re exposed too, and gets lost in your body for a few seconds before he bites back a moan when your warm and wet skin makes contact with him. “I — I can fuck you, I can make you feel good, too,” he promises. “Be your good boy and fu–fuck you well.”

You smile tenderly, teasing him as you grind your hips rubbing your pussy on his dick that’s resting on his stomach. “Oh, I know you can.”

“Please, please,” Jeno cries out more. His dick is incredibly sensitive, it’s painfully aching, begging to be wrapped by something after all this teasing. You barely paid it any attention this whole time. “Let me be your good boy, use me,” his voice breaks and he almost chokes on his words as his pleading eyes stare at you for mercy. “Use my — use my cock as you please. Use me like your toy,” he says, “your good toy.”

It almost breaks your heart; he needs validation so badly and you feel genuinely bad for never noticing this before. You just thought he was always so strong and confident; you didn’t think he needed reassurance so much.

“Here, pup,” you say, sinking into him.

Jeno’s head rolls back, his hands clasping around your waist, but his hold, even if it’s strong, is different from all the other times before.

“Fuck, mommy, feel so good.” The way your warm walls wrap around him send him straight to heaven, you’re wet and fit perfectly around him.

“Yeah, you too, baby. You feel so good,” you curse through gritted teeth. He might be a mess underneath you, whimpering, crying, and begging, but that doesn’t make his cock shrink. Jeno’s big, and you should be used to it by now, but somehow it still feels like it splits you open every time.

“Please, fuck me!” Jeno laments loudly, bouncing his hips against yours, but a stern look from you makes him stop and apologize, “So-sorry, fuck me, please?” This time his voice is soft and polite, a desperate edge but with no eagerness behind — yes, there is, but he tries hard not to show it.

“Oh, fuck,” he screams when you lift your body up and slam back into him. You’re a lazy rider usually, and to be more honest, you’re just never a rider, 90% of the time riding his dick is a punishment to make you work for it, but now… well, you kept your skills well stored in. “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” he whimpers, hands clenching hard around your waist until his knuckles go white.

“What? You wanted me to fuck you so badly, and now? Bit more than you can chew? Is this too much for you, pretty boy? You can’t take it?”

Jeno shakes his head. “No, no I can, ma’am, I can,” he whimpers, biting his lips harshly.

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” you hum in satisfaction. Your hands fall at the sides of his head, your smaller body somehow still hovers over him and makes him feel smaller than ever. Your intense stare pins him to the mattress even more, making him shiver. “Give me your hands,” you order, but Jeno doesn’t listen — he doesn’t even hear, too lost in you to pay attention to your voice. “God,” you huff, rolling your eyes back, “I really have to do everything on my own because you’re just that dumb.” You forcefully grab his wrists, pushing his arms over his head and keeping them locked against the bed.

“No, I’m — I’m sorry, I — I wasn’t.”

“Yeah, you weren’t,” you mock, stilling before starting to pick up the pace again, “you weren’t listening ‘cause you can only focus on how good I’m making you feel, right? Stupid, dumb puppy can only think about his pleasure.”

“No, no, please, forgive me,” he begs, tears streaking down his face, and words coming out between gags and moans.

“Can you fuck back into me? Or are you too fucked out to do that?”

“No, no, I can. I’ll be good, I’ll be good for you, miss,” he promises, lifting his hips to meet you halfway, but his body feels so heavy and his brain is mush, unable to send signals to his muscles.

Your head rolls back and your hands wrap tighter around his wrists, you find yourself grinding against him, rubbing your clit every time you bottom all the way down. But Jeno’s thrusts are sloppy and messy, he’s not even that bad when he’s about to come. “Stupid puppy,” you taunt, slapping his ass. “Can’t even fuck me after all the pleasure I gave you.”

Jeno sobs, literally, loud cries coming from the back of his throat making him almost choke, and you’re about to stop everything in worry before you realize that’s not because you went too far — partially, maybe, he’s not really happy to be said he’s bad — but because he’s close again and he loves the way you talk down to him and slap him.

“Are you coming again?” You ask in utter surprise because you can’t believe it.

But he shakes his head, he’s fighting against himself to hold it back, and for the sake of having at least an orgasm too, you stop your movements.

“I won’t — won’t come,” he mumbles, lips quivering. “Can’t you… can’t you just use me?” he wails. “Please, I’m too tired. Just… use me like a…” The last words are a slur lower than a whisper, and his head turned to the side doesn’t help you hearing what he said.

You tilt your head to the side, cupping his chin to force him to look at you. “Repeat loud and clear if you don’t want to regret it.”

Jeno gulps, nodding vigorously, but his voice still shakes, and his cheeks burn red again as he repeats. “Use me like a dildo, please.”

“Oh… so, this is how you want to be good to me?” You ask, grinding your hips against him, the stimulation is bare for you but so much for him that you trigger whines and whimpers out of him.

“But it will feel good, even if I don’t move, you know it,” he tries to reason, pleading with his glossy eyes. “I can eat you out after, or — or now, whatever you please, miss.”

“Whatever I please, uhm?” You ask, grinning.

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll do whatever you want.”

You smile, caressing his face, smearing the wet mess around before your hand pats his head. “You’re lucky I want you exactly like this, like a toy.” You start fucking him with no warning, and a gasp rips from his vocal cords before he starts moaning again.

His eyes roll back at each of your hard thrusts, and you see his hands itch because he can’t touch you, but you don’t loosen the hold on him. You feel strong, a kind of power you didn’t even know you had in you, and you don’t want this to stop.

Jeno’s entire body trembles when your hand wraps around his neck, squeezing just enough to dim the flow of air in his lungs. It’s hot but unexpected, just like it’s unexpected that he almost comes on the spot.

“Oh, oh,” you hum in delight, the corner of your lips lifting as you stare at him. “You like it…” Jeno tries to deny but you can read his body; you felt his dick throb inside of you, his eyes flicker to you in light panic before rolling in his skull again, and his breath falter. “Don’t deny it, it wouldn’t be the most pathetic thing you get off to,” you mock, making him blush again. “It’s alright, you can be my naughty boy, I won’t judge.”

He can only hum, and now that you look better in his eyes, you see there’s something completely different behind them. He’s in a completely different headspace, and you fear he won’t last much longer.

It’s the same for you, the thrill and adrenaline can only push you so far, you’re not used to this, bouncing your hips harshly on his cock and having control, your thighs are starting to scream, and your brain doesn’t want to pay them attention but you both know you’re both at the finish line for this first time. Not to add, you’re in desperate need of an orgasm.

“Ti-tight,” Jeno gasps when your hold on his neck loosens enough to let him breathe in normally again, just the time that he can take a few breaths before it fastens again, it’s not too tight, it’s your first time, you don’t want to end with him passed out on the floor, but it’s enough to do its job.

“Yeah? Too tight for you? Can’t take it?”

He moves his head randomly, frenetic movements as he moves his lips to talk, useless. Your cunt is sucking away every coherent thought in his mind, the only thing filling his brain: you and the need to release.

“Don’t talk, don’t need it. I know you’re too sensitive, wanted me so much only to shake underneath me because I’m fucking you too well. Can’t even form a coherent thought in that stupid, little brain of yours, can you?”

He shakes his head, tears streaming down, but you kiss them — lick them — away.

“It’s alright, I don’t want you to think. I like it when your brain is empty. Your just my pretty boy, right? Pretty, good boy that let’s mommy fuck him?”

His nods are eager, and without even realizing his tongue lolls out. You pout at the view, patting his head when you let go of his neck, making him breathe. “Good pup. Just look pretty for me.”

“Pre-pretty,” he whimpers before a fucked-out smile paints his face.

“Yes, baby, you are,” you kiss his lips, petting his hair another time.

“Co-come, wanna come, please. Let me — let me come, ma’am,” he cries out when he has enough air in his lungs and sense in his brain. “Be-begging. I’m beg — mmph,” his words die in his mouth and his eyes squeeze tight when you voluntarily squeeze harder around him.

“Begging? Is this how a good boy begs?” You ask, looking at him sternly, not that it lasts long, because when his eyes open into yours, you fold.

“’M sorry, so-sorry,” he apologizes, “please, miss, let me come, let me come inside of you, let me fill you up. You’ll — you’ll feel good, I promise,” his words are all slurred out together, spit drips from his lips down to his chin and neck, and his body is burning up, if it didn’t mean to edge and denying an orgasm to yourself too, you would probably push him farther, curious to see how far he can go. But for now, it’s fine, he’s a good boy, he deserves it, and so do you.

“Please, please, please, ma’am.”

“You’ve been so good, baby. You can come.”

When you give him the green light, his body explodes, his hips even shyly chase the orgasm up against you, fucking back into you lazily. His head rolls back and as soon as your hand sets him free, his hands find your hips, holding them tight, hissing and groaning when you hold yourself up on his chest, nails digging into his skin as your body keeps bouncing up and down, riding your orgasms.

Your body collapses on his, exhausted and boneless just like his, and his arms wrap around it right away while he still sobs and whimpers in the crook of your neck.

“Shh, it’s alright, you’re alright,” you whisper in his ear while your hand caress his hair, wet again but not with water.

“Don’t — don’t pull out,” he whines when you lift your body, “nooo, don’t leave me.”

“I’m here,” you reassure him right away, carrying his body with yours so you lay on the side and can pull him in a hug. “I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” he mumbles, hiding between your chest and neck. “Tha-thank you, mhh, thank you for —” his voice breaks and his sobs get a bit louder as he hides more in your hold.

“Hey, it’s fine, take your time,” you say, still soothing him with circular movements on his back and soft rubs on his hair.

Jeno wants to talk, he has many things to say, damn, even an explanation to give to you, but he feels his body is heavy, he feels on a cloud, and you are the softness all over him, he feels safe, something he’s not used to feeling. You didn’t get mad at this, you won’t get mad if he falls asleep for a while, right? If he lulls in this sense of comfort and the aftermaths of what happened.

And almost as if you read his mind… “You can sleep if you want,” you say, kissing his forehead gently and rubbing his nape.

And he has no strength to reply as his body falls into a deep sleep.

When he wakes up, he’s not naked anymore, a big white shirt is around his body, covering just enough so he’s not completely exposed. The mattress is stripped from the dirty sheets and there’s a glass of water on the bedside table, but you’re not next to him.

Jeno almost panics, feeling the post-nut clarity made you run away scared and disgusted, but then the door opens, and you’re there. And it’s the same you he loves deeply. He can breathe again.

“Oh, hi, babe,” you greet with a big smile. You’re holding something in your hands and you’re wearing one of his shirts. “Feeling better?”

Jeno gulps, nodding and smiling at you, words are hard to find.

“Still too fucked out to talk?” You joke, slumping on the bed next to him, handing him the package of his favorite snacks. “Figured you needed some sugar after all that whimpering and squirming.”

“Oh, please, shut up,” he says, hiding his red face behind his hands.

“Hey, you were cute,” you say, grabbing his hands to move them out of the way. “I — I liked it. Did you?”

He nods quickly, okay maybe he’s still a little into that headspace.

You smile and then pout. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about it. I’m always so loud and open about everything I want to try and… it never crossed my mind you might have different needs. I don’t know if you’re hiding anything else, but you can talk to me about everything. I love you and even if I might not be into something I won’t let it be the reason for a break-up, or a fight, or worse, making fun of you,” you say, grabbing his hands. “We can always try and then see the outcome. I mean, all that dominance before was improvisation, I was nervous as fuck too, I just tried to act like you usually do, tell me I was good,” you say, scrunching your face as you wait for his opinion.

Jeno laughs, it’s a genuine laugh, and you can almost see the weight being lifted off his chest. You still feel guilty for not making it feel like you could be a safe place for him, but it’s over now.

“You were really good,” he reassures you. “And… yes, I was a bit afraid of your reaction, but it was also something that had to do with myself. I’m — I’ve always been the strong one since I was a kid and then growing up it also turned into being this big ass man with muscles, so the pressure didn’t help.”

You nod in understanding. It makes you feel a bit less guilty, but you feel like there’s something else. “Is this all?”

“I also always have to be confident, but… I get insecure. I just feel like people are so used to me never making mistakes that they don’t even see my struggles or how hard I work for things, so all my hard work goes unnoticed. But I… I want to be… praised, I want to be told I’m doing good, I want people to tell me they’re proud of me.”

You cup his cheek gently and then kiss his nose, making him giggle. “I’m so proud of you, I tell you that, don’t I?”

“Yeah, you do, you’re the only one,” he says, leg bouncing nervously as he tries to find the words. But you’re holding his hand, rubbing circles on his palm and that’s calming him down a bit, or maybe not because he feels like he’s about to cry again.

“Hey,” you caress his chin and then rub your thumb on his cheek, your touch is soft, and his brain shuts off once again. It’s like he’s taking back all the wasted time he had to act tough and don’t melt in your touch. “I’m here, alright? Take your time.”

Jeno nods, small hums slipping out of his lips before he finds the courage to talk. “I don’t know, sometimes I just… I want to feel small. And I want to be the one getting cuddled and petted, and just taken care of. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love doing that for you, but… I always see you being so carefree when you’re with me and sometimes I get… so, so jealous because you can… you can loosen up, turn your brain off and no one will judge you. But if I do it, if I get… vulnerable in your hands, I don’t know what people will say.”

You caress his cheek before your hand runs in his hair, not only because it’s covering his handsome face again, but also because you learned he likes it a lot, and as expected, he smiles. “Do people need to know?”

He tilts his head and furrows in confusion. “They don’t?”

“I doubt people care about our sexual life, or what we do in our home. So, this can be our secret, at least until you’ll feel comfortable enough to let loose even outside of these walls. If you’ll share this with me, it will be less heavy, right?”

Jeno nods, smiling and pushing back tears.

“Hey, crybaby today, aren’t you? Come here,” you say, pulling him into a hug. He holds you tight, still afraid you might slip from his hold, and breathes deep your scent.

When you pull away, Jeno’s looking into your eyes and you hum to signal him he can talk.

“Thank you, I don’t know what I would do without you. Seriously, you made me feel safe and not judged, it means the world to me.”

“It’s the way you make me feel always, I’m glad you could feel that way too. And I proved I can protect you even if I don’t have all your muscles,” you joke, lifting your arm and flexing your not-trained bicep, making him laugh. “But seriously, I would never judge you, and I really love this version of you, so, unleash it more often.”

Jeno smiles widely, his eyes turning up in his usual half-moons, and then he lays on the bed, tapping the space next to him. You beam and crawl next to him, pulling him closer again, his head rests on your chest while your hands caress his hair and you just relax in the silence of the house.

“I love you,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head, his hair tickling you for a second. “And I’ll love every version of you, in any universe.”

Jeno still has a secret, but luckily, he has you to share it with.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @rbf-aceu ; @shiningnono ; @jaeminsbebu | general taglist: @froggyforyoongi , @wingsss45 ; @tddyhyck ; @technologyculturedneo

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#nct fanfiction #jeno smut #lee jeno smut #sub!jeno #jeno hard hours #jeno hard thoughts #nct dream smut #sub!nct #sub!nct dream #nct smut #dom!reader #sub!idol #nct dream hard hours #nct hard hours

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justblades · 2 years ago

Text

⌕ FLIMSY FEELINGS, 18+

⟢ CHARACTER : blade x afab! reader WC : 1.4k

⟢ WARNINGS : EXPLICIT, MDNI. dubcon, somno, voyeur! blade, oral (fem receiving), sadistic masochistic themes, mutual masturb#tion, cunnilingus

⟢ A/N : we don't have much info abt his character rn but i tried my best with the available provided info as of the moment !! enjoy <3

raven hair ripples from the bitter cold winds blowing, the glint of crisp solferino hues show a reflection of an unknown person - someone the stellaron hunters just happened to pick up as they tread upon weaving the threads of fate, just how the screen play director foretold.

it was just blade and you alone, encompassed by the archaic, gunmetal gray walls. blade watches your slumbering figure as he wears a solemn face, lips pressed into a thin line, not showing any kind of expression at all except for a stoic mask.

is it really a mask? no one could tell. blade just proceeds to stride towards your body, feeling an aching sensation he needed to tend to. it's a feeling he'd come to despise - but it's still a part of his bodily function. even though he abandoned his old way of living and is now in a pursuit of his path to vengeance, there are trivial things he must fulfill at once.

blade slowly descends to your position, vision still not anchoring away from your dozing shape. humans truly are fragile, he thought to himself— to see someone in their vulnerable state, it feels quite intimate. it was an epiphany blade had for a long time ago he forgot when, but all he knows right now is there's just one thing that must be done.

he feels his pants grow tighter by the minute, the flickering light bulb casts a darker shade of monochrome gray on the crotch part. the navy haired doesn't delay any further and proceeds to get it done. blade unbuckles his belt swiftly, letting the item crash against the concrete flooring; followed suit is an act of self pleasure, he gradually wraps his dominant around his throbbing girth, reveling the wamrth he had to offer to himself in dead silence.

the stellaron hunter may not show it but gratification already courses through his system. at a slow pace, he continues to lean more towards your figure, his cock now at its full glory. its head twitches, itching for a sensation for it to be enveloped in; something warm, something tight and something alive. three qualifications that his mere hands could not satisfy.

perhaps that was your sole purpose for you being brought here in the stellaron hunters' temporary hideout. he rips your clothes with one clean cut from the cracked sword he brandishes, one of the many ways he showcases his astonishing swordsmanship. steadily positioning himself from your slit, a hot, rock hard feeling rubs on your lower lips.

blade's heart begins to pulsate against his rib cage, each beat becoming louder and faster in such an irregular manner. the more he got to feel your slippery cunt, the more eager he only got. and with one powerful thrust, he successfully makes his entrance inside you, his cock lavishing the comfort of your velvet walls clamping around his length.

he huffs a deep breath and only realizes it late as he catches a quick whiff of your scent— for some reason, he was drawn on. the male inches forward your neck, his hands tightly clasped on yours to make sure there would be no attempt of escape. presently atop you while you laid on your stomach, you could feel some faint but added pressure on your limbs plus a somewhat familiar presence from above.

blade was only detached from what you were feeling and only carried on with his own intentions. he rams inside you with no forewarnings, his tip fills you all the way up to the very brim. a breathy, whiny moan erupts in the vicinity that undoubtedly came from you but he heeds no mind to it— continuing to pound into your walls, intruding with such an abrupt pace and not in gradual motions.

in anything that he does, he emanates of destruction. a polar opposite of care, tenderness and love; it shows in his rough, vertiginious thrusts, his firm tight touch, and lastly, in his facial expression. you were not one bit shocked, if anything, you just accepted what is happening as of the present. being used as a cocksleeve for a passing feeling, it rips at your heartstrings but you were powerless before him.

you continued to pretend as if you were still dozing off in spite the mewl that you tried so hard to bite back, stifling more noises threatening to slip out. it would be far more awkward if you're awake as you weren't one bit acquainted with blade. not even shared glances, all the information you have is an overheard conversation from the hunters, only knowing his sole name : blade.

the swordsman eventually begins to drop his guard down, becoming more lax at letting his guttural groans come undone from his mouth. his bandaged hand wanders on your naked, exposed skin, traveling to places where he finds the most appealing. aside from the sound of skin slapping, clothes shifting and his jagged breathing were accompanied by the chime of his dangling scarlet earring.

a sharp pang of pain follows from a loud smack sound. it was his slender hand coming into harsh contact against the plush of your ass, leaving darker imprints from your complexion - it was no doubt, his spanking's seal. you could no longer play pretend as you wince from the pain, your eyes shot open and you turn your head.

your vision was then graced by the indigo haired, he took notice that you were awoken but as usual, he's cold as a gelid ice. he did not care.

when suddenly, he withdraws his cock from your pussy and flips your body around— thus making you meet his face, catching you off guard from your current dazed state. you slowly look up to meet his sharp gaze to the point that you could see your own image from his vivid cerise eyes. your very first locked gaze with blade, and mayhaps the last. his hand clasps on yours once again but only to bring it down to your cunt, he proceeds to uncurl your balled up fist.

he guides your fingers to stroke and pleasure yourself, your own digits prodding through your wet entrance. your breathing quickens, a foreign sensation brewing in the pits of your abdomen; meanwhile blade doesn't do anything but to watch on your expressions. "continue." blade commands ; his raspy, deep voice resounds into your ears.

you were struck with both of shock and nervousness, his tone laced with authority and coldness to it yet again. as embarrassing as it is to do it in front of a man you've never met in your lifetime, you obey his order, continuing to pump your fingers in and out of your coiling walls before his predatory naked eyes.

the navy haired pleasures himself at present, along with you - matching your rhythm. your legs spread open in front of him to feast upon that no man has ever tasted, an unfamiliar sensation wells in his heart. he groans and picks up the pace of him stroking his own erection, a feeling of release immediately dawning upon him.

with blurry vision, for a moment, you could see a hint of sadness and regret behind the vermillion windows of his soul. although the actions he's committing currently are lascivious and of lust, you swear to yourself there was something more than what meets the eye.

as quickly time flashes, strings of muddy white spring out from his cock, the liquids spilling into your exposed tits and your panic stricken face. he catches his breath in the midst of it, heavy panting echoes inside the enclosed vicinity. "i didn't order you to stop."

his words pierces your perturbed mind, he pertains to your masturbation ending just as when he reached his climax. the male swiftly gathers all the cum littering your skin with one hand and one movement, cupping the liquids carefully only to insert all of it into your pussy.

a moan bubbles from your throat, feeling his long fingers curl inside your sticky walls. blade, even though a stoic man most of the time, he's also full of surprises. he flicks his tongue over your clit, the pointy tip rubbing viscules and in circular motions on the specific spot.

your back arches, waves of pleasure crashing upon your lethargic self. blade doesn't halt and carries on to suck your walls out, margins of his sticky lips perfectly fitting with your lower ones. his tongue once again skillfully glides over your sensitive parts— earning him your climax as it spills out from your hole, adorning his sharp, masculine features as if your ejaculation was an accessory.

it felt ecstatic, as if your body drifts into the seventh heaven from blade's cold touches. in spite of the overwhelming gratification pooling in your body, hundreds of questions start to flare up in your mind, mainly about blade's identity. naturally, it rolls from your lips, a question he didn't see coming.

"what are you really?"

among the many blank faces blade shows you this night, he finally unravels a different one upon encountering your question. "are you really that fervent to know?" he rhetorically asks as a sneering smile creeps on his lips.

my masterlist !

#blade x reader #blade honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #blade smut #blade x reader smut #hsr x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut

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realisticpregerotica · 1 month ago

Text

Mastur-birth-tion

18+ MDNI

3300+ Words

Wendy had always been a size queen as long as she could remember. She loved the sensation of wonderfully round objects filling up her holes. She loved teasing the tips of them around her labia before pressing the object with firm desire on her opening. At first her vagina would yield, digging slightly into her pelvis before any stretching would start at all.

She could get acquainted with the temperature. Cold objects ran shivers down her entire body often making her more sensitive. Then… A slip. She would gasp from deep within her chest as the cold cylinder would slip inside of her, her eyes would roll into the back of her head as she tried to hang on to consciousness, Wendy’s head a fuzzy mess from the pleasure. She would rather be stuffed with something warm, feeling it burn up the insides of her pussy as she stretched and strained to warm up her belly.

With her legs spread she would push out toys all night, as hours went on she would increase the size of them as the night would go on to shameful sizes. Each toy would only edge her until the largest she could take would make her black but in an orgasm.

It was a sensation she was long robbed of for the majority of her pregnancy. From the safe period, to moving into her new apartment, nausea and aches she rarely found time to masturbate as she once did. Wendy was at least 9 months removed from her last size play.

One of her favorite parts was staring at herself while she carried around the toy. A mirror facing the foot of her bed, she would take a long, hard look at her body. Her toy would bulge impressively, pushing out her skin to the outside, she would often poke the bottom of her pelvis to move it under her skin, biting her lip in pure bliss.

This morning her full term pregnant belly gave her a reminder of what a sight she truly was. She stared at herself in the mirror completely naked as her morning routine typically went. Wendy sat on her knees with a pillow between her thighs. Her right hand was occupied by a wanded vibrator on its highest setting, bouncing frantically on her pillow.

“Unf… Aah… Yes… Yes....” Wendy mumbled, staring at herself in the mirror. She was ginormous, with her belly occupying her body. At this stage of her pregnancy her belly hung low, beginning to imitate the feeling of the toys she was getting ready to push out.

“Ooh… Fuck… Yesss” She moaned, getting her other hand to rub her belly. As she got to her climax she drew her fingers around her stretch marks, the scars that she could only wish her toys would leave on her.

“Mmmmmm…” She groaned with her teeth clenched. Wendy pressed her fingers into her belly, trying to feel her baby through her tightly stretched skin.

“Ffuck!! Cum!!! Cumming!!!!” Wendy leaned her body forward into the orgasm grinding on her pillow to dig the nice, smooth silicone head of her vibrator over her puffed sensitive lips.

The orgasm made her heart race, gave her a full body sensation and a tingle and made her breathe through her mouth. A braxton hicks contraction came over her belly. “Ahhhhh…. Ohhhhhh.” She moaned as it all came to an end.

As was the case for most days, Wendy wasn’t satisfied. She rode her pillow as compensation for not currently having a man, and having a man was rehab for stuffing herself full of huge toys during her pregnancy.

Suddenly, something inside of her gave in. Wendy rolled off from her bed and waddled over to her kitchen. She returned with her hands full of various foodstuffs of all shapes and sizes. Eager and not wanting to let herself come to her senses, she lay all of the groceries on the floor along with her designated humping pillow and her wand.

Wendy had to lift her belly up to see her pussy in the mirror. Panting, she licked her fingers and spread herself wide. It appeared her lips had gotten fatter since she last tried stuffing.

With her lips held open, she sucked the wide section of an uncooked chicken egg and began to insert it into her vagina. Wendy stared as the white egg began to become enveloped in her outer lips before feeling it inside of her. And then, she felt herself stretch.

Even a relatively small item like an egg forced Wendy to cover her mouth with the sensation. It was the first tie in months she had been penetrated with anything but her fingers. And just like that, none of the white shell was anywhere to be seen inside of her.

She tried to find the egg on the surface of her vagina, but all she grabbed was the base of her pregnant belly. Wendy’s muscle memory began to kick in.

She spread her legs out before the mirror, holding them apart by her knees as she began to push. “Ooo…” She groaned as she mustered up the force inside of her.

Pushing as she once did, she could feel the egg start to descend down her vagina into her opening. A little bit of the white tip of the egg began to slightly peek out from inside of her.

“Haa. Haa. OO!” She gasped as the widest part of the egg shot from the force of her pushing. It missed the protective pillow and popped comically from her pussy onto the carpet in front of her, covered in her viscous juices. In response, her baby gave it’s mother a couple kicks from inside of the womb, feeding Wendy’s desires further to rub her expanded belly in response

Her face was red like masturbation hadn’t done to her in so long, her head began to tingle, her whole body going back into remission over the sensation of bulging once more.

She missed the feeling of being penetrated deeply, and she thought the egg had potential to go much deeper.

Wendy’s second item was a banana wrapped in a plastic bag, making sure none of the woody ends would stretch her up on the inside. For her own reference, she held the banana up to her hip level and measured it against her torso. From her hips to the tip, the fruit measured all the way to her popped belly button. For what it was, at least her big, pregnant belly had already dropped for labor.

She got on her knees for this one, aligning the banana behind her she brought her increased full weight down onto the banana. Stretching her vagina open more in it’s deepest than it had ever been she couldn't help but to roll her eyes and bite her lip, grabbing a hold of her milk filled breasts as if she was riding a real cock.

Up from the pillow the stem of the banana stuck out like a handle from under Wendy. With a loose grip on the stem she began to feed it deeper into her vagina until it rang like a doorbell on her dropped cervix. “Hnnnghh.. OOOhhhhh!” She moaned with her eyes crossed as her baby was tussled beneath her skin.

Her body was more reluctant to release the banana, Wendy’s hands fought the suction of her pussy. It left with an audible pop from her pussy.

For the biggest object she had taken with her, it shared a name with her belly button that poked out. A navel orange was taken straight out of the fridge and sat by her thighs as she pushed out the banana. Staring at the cold, porous surface with the navel to poke inside, her body began to tremble in anticipation.

Lifting her belly and spreading her lips again, it took both hands to apply constant pressure into her puffy pussy lips. Her fingers fed the orange into her vagina slowly and she could feel herself getting stretched. Looking into the mirror the vibrant orange from the fruit began to become engulfed again, surrounded in her darkened pregnant pussy.

Her eyes began to roll to the back of her head. There was no slip, instead, the widest part of the orange stretched her vagina open all the way forcing Wendy’s legs to stay open. “AAAhn!!!” Wendy yelped. She looked at herself in the mirror, and even inside of her the large orange slightly parted her lips. She wondered if that was about 10 centimeters pushing her apart.

Wendy leaned back to the support of her bed puffing while the orange shifted inside of her. She bit her lip, planting her legs onto her carpet and began to bear down. “OOoooohhh!!!!” Wendy moaned, feeling the orange begin to stretch her apart. She saw her folds hugging the fruit.

“Mmmnfff!!!” she squealed behind closed lips, she felt her legs tremble while she continued to push down. Slowly, the sphere came into her view. Wendy grinded on her pillow, struggling to feel the orange at the base of her vagina. As it began to move down she felt the navel of the orange that shifted, it’s irregular shape and feeling driving her mad.

“Guhhh!!! OOOOOOH!” She hooked her thighs under her knees, aggressively prying her legs apart. Looking past her belly, the orange was coming to a full crown inside of her. Wendy’s heart raced. “Hoo… Hoo… HOOO!” she began to pant, her head started to get fuzzy. At the oranges widest point her lips strained and started to turn white and sore.

She scrambled to get her vibrator, and turning it to the highest setting she fumbled her wand around trying to find her clit under all of her belly in the mirror. “Come on… Come on…!” She whispered to herself in anticipation. She felt the silicon head on her most sensitive area and flipped the switch.

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH!!!!!”

In one click all the sensations came together packaged in a powerful orgasm. The sudden stimulus from the vibrator caused her to jolt. One deciding push purged the orange out of her vagina. The force got it to roll beside the other foodstuffs, and by the end, she threw her arms down and relaxed.

Her breaths were slow and deep out of her mouth, satisfied by finally being able to push out heavy objects once again. Sweat rolled down her forehead with her legs still wide open. A barrage of kicks pummel the top of her belly forcing a gasp out of the recovering mother.

“Sorry to startle you, I really, really needed that.” Wendy barganed, giving her belly a couple affectionate rubs. With some TLC her baby calmed down their storm inside of her glowing belly.

“Ow!” She winced under a sharp pain that seized her womb. Despite the contraction her tendencies kicked in, causing Wendy to grind her thighs together in pleasure. “Hey, stop that!” she gasped with her eyes closed, grinding out the contraction inside of her against the pillow.

Her stomach tightened again. An audible rupture was heard from outside of her body that forced Wendy’s legs apart again.

“ANNNNHHH!” She cried as a torrent of fluids spewed out of her tender pussy. Her amniotic fluids drenched everything in front of her, seeping into the pillow and the carpet even getting onto the mirror. Her water had broken

“Oh no… Don’t come yet! I just came!” she hollered trying to get to her feet to reach the phone. No longer suspended in their watery home, the baby’s weight bore down under her pelvis with her legs getting up to a squat.

“Urrrrrrghhhhhh!!!!” She moaned while her baby’s head began to force its way through their mother's cervix. Stumbling off of her feet, Wendy was on her butt again.

“O-oh?” she groaned. Another contraction slowly squeezed her midsection. In front of her eyes and a mirror her uterus began to shrink and squeeze on the baby that had grown inside of her for 9 months.

“Mmmmmmhhhaha!!!!” Wendy moaned. Her eyes shot into the back of her head through the sensation. Ever the size queen, what she was about to push was deeper than any toy she had ever inserted before.

As the contraction strained it’s hardest Wendy swore she saw the outline of her baby, the thought of the size of her child inside of her drove her mad. Suddenly her heart began to race again. Her mouth hung open.

“It feels good…” she reassured herself. Wendy spread her legs open. Still tender from the size play from earlier she was hesitant to check her dilation. Bracing herself, her middle finger slipped into her wet pussy, sending warm pleasure into the rest of her body.

“Uh, hhAH-” she bit down on the side of her arm as her fingers brushed passed her opening cervix. “Hoo… hoo... Hooo.” She blew into her forearm inspecting the fine details of her birth canal with her fingers. Her cervix was opened up slightly, and at the very center of it she felt a warm, round, hard shape lodged heavily into place. “My baby…” Wendy moaned, rubbing the top of the head with her middle finger.

“Guhh!!” She wrenched. Feeling the brunt of another contraction come quickly. The head began to slide quickly under her fingers, forcing apart the unconditioned cervix to 10 centimeters easily. “Grrrrnghhhh!!!!” Wendy groaned to the unique feeling of her cervix dilating.

Her insides tingle in euphoric pleasure, her heart raced faster and faster, out of sync with her labored breaths. The contracted ended with beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahnnnnnnnn!!!!!”

Her break was interrupted by another contraction brutalizing her belly again. While Wendy’s belly began to tighten, she placed her hands on the top of her belly. “Oof… arrngh!” She winced and panted, feeling her child’s kicks recoiling against her drum tight uterus. “I know you’re stressed baby, but work with me-OOOOOwwwwwwww!!!!”

The head began to move to the top of her birth canal, slowly opening her vagina to a weight, shape, and warmth she never felt before. “Hah… hah… hnnnnnfff!!!!” she moaned as the baby descended down her birth canal. The baby was lodged into her pelvis like a cannonball, forcing Wendy’s legs to stay open. Wendy’s hands followed the trace of her baby as it continued to move lower and lower down her pussy.

“Push… I need to push” she reminded herself. Uncomfortable in her current position, she shifted to the only position that felt right in with her huge, laboring baby bump. Wendy hooked her arms under her knees again, spreading herself wide open to view all of herself in the mirror.

“Heeee… hoo!” She took in deep breaths waiting for the next contraction to push with. Her belly started to seize up under her fingers and she felt the baby slowly start to move once more under the constricting pressure of her uterus.

“Hee hee hoo, hee hee, hooOOOOOOO!” Wendy bore down with all of her strength, propelling the baby slowly and steadily down her birth canal, filling her vagina with her baby’s entire head and shoulders. The sensation! The pleasure! A weight like nothing else spreading her apart made Wendy absolutely feral, salivating while extending her knees to bring her legs high above her head.

“It feelsh sho GOOODDD!” she yelled through clenched teeth. She bore down, harder and harder, pushing until her belly would contort itself and turn hot. As the contraction ended Wendy let her legs down, her breaths even more raggidy than the last contractions. She looked down to the sight of her slit open to the sight of a wet head of hair thoroughly stretching her labia folds. Some of her white vaginal fluids decorated the surface of her baby’s exposed head. Her heart could not stop.

The top of her belly began to deflate, signs of her baby travelling further downwards. Out of line with the next contraction, Wendy couldn’t wait to indulge, she rubbed the outline of her belly further, agitating the large heavy orb she carried around with her. “Hooo… Hooo. It feels so good to be pregnant…. Hmmmmngggg!!!” She groaned, spreading her pussy out to it’s limit.

Wendy’s legs hung wide open while she pressed her force to her abdomen, beginning to expel her child out into the world. She could feel the finest details of her baby’s face rubbing against her tender, moistened vaginal folds. The hairline passing through, divits of her baby’s eyes, finally, stopping its nose.

“Shhhnnnrrrghhh! AAaaaaahHHHh… Cum… Oh my god... I’m going to cum! RRRaaaaNNNGGHHHHH!!!!!” She cried, the head popping out with an audible pop and a squirt of steaming fluids onto her floor. Wendy’s pussy had never been stretched so intensely before!

Her tongue hung out, her chest heaved up and down. “One…. More!!!” She told herself. Wendy parked her heels onto the ground. She held her own sheets behind her as the final contraction began. Wendy threw her hips forward, in a decisive strain, pushing all of her force into her uterus she let out a powerful cry. “GRRRRRAAAAAAANggHGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!” Wendy screamed

To her dismay, the head did not budge, exhausted, Wendy slid back further with her throat and pussy on fire. “Nonono! Don’t be stuck!” she cried, looking everywhere to try to find a solution.

While she waited she began to feel the baby’s head begin to move and begin to take its first breaths during their own birth. She could feel her newborn's hands and feet begin to move inside of her. She had to move fast.

Wendy puffed her breaths, finding the fastest way to free her baby’s shoulders. That's when she saw her loyal wand to her right. Hesitating for a moment she held her breath while her baby’s shoulders grinded into her pelvis. “Ow… owowowow!”

She switched the head of her vibrator on, the familiar recoil hanging particularly heavy in her hands. She was really about to masturbate her baby out. Feeling the kicks towards the center of her belly now caused her to bite her lips. Her belly began to constrict once more. She regained her breath and her hands started to shake, a mixture of anxiety… and anticipation. SHe began to salivate at the thought of her baby’s shoulders slipping free to welcome the baby’s whole body.

The pain started to take control of her belly, it was time for her to push. “Hoo… hoo…” she winced in pain, grabbing her belly. “Ddon’t worry… you’re going… hnnnnghhhhh… to… hah… be born soon.”

She brought the silicone head to her pussy slowly. The vibration could be felt between the space, Wendy stood no match to the feeling as contact was made. Pleasure shocked into her entire body like electricity, tension from her uterus fought with her muscles' ability to feel the vibrations, combining into a fiery combination between her legs.

“URRRRRRRGHHHHHHHNNNN!!!!!” she howled. Wendy’s hips shot into the air, the positional change freeing the caught shoulder. She wielded the vibrator with both hands, relentlessly grinding against the head as she kicked the toy up to it’s highest setting to feel the wand drill into her clitoris while her baby emerged.

“FUAAAH… annnnghhhh FUUUUUUCKKKKK.” Wendy snarled. She grabbed her sheets behind her, curling her toes. One shoulder popped free from her pussy. Her climax was teased for so long, and after her crowing, after her entire pregnancy, she could feel the size and weight of all 10+ pounds of child that she was so close to pushing out.

Her baby’s weight began to slide out of her completely. Her vision was going white and she was losing all senses of control over her body.“GONNA… FUCKING. CUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUM!!!!!!!”

With a pop and a geyer of juices the second shoulder emerged. Wendy’s baby slid safely onto the pillow. Her hips fell and Wendy’s body was left twitching on the foot of her bed. She breathed slowly, ragged breaths to get air back into her body.

Loud cries from a healthy pair of lungs filled her bedroom and the new mother scrambled to her butt urgently scooping up her baby and holding her to her chest. “I’m sorry, aahhh. I think I got carried away…” She kissed her newborn on the head, her heart racing. “I might have to get you a sibling soon though…”

#preg kink #maiesiophilia #pregblr #preggo kink #pregnant #birth kink #birth #birth fic #orgasmic labor #pregnancy

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tojjist · 9 months ago

Text

‘1-800-fix it felix !’

in which; When your boyfriend has a problem he knows who to call! Can you fix it? featuring: s.gojo x afab! reader contains: masturbation, face time s3x , reader shows her br3asts over the camera, bathroom masturb@tion, pet names (babe, baby), reader being a tease, gojo being js a little bit subby

Satoru thinks of you all the time. He thinks of the new perfume you bought last week, of the pretty dress you wore to your last date. He thinks about how pretty you look when your hair is done all up, and about how sweet your voice sounds in this voice note you just sent him.

Fuck. He’s hard.

Can you blame him? You just woke up and for some inexplicable reason thought sending him a voice message while he’s at work is a good idea. Do you not notice the way you sigh your half-coherent words? Do you not notice the way you sigh out your words, barely coherent? Satoru swears he can feel his ears tingling at the longing in your voice for him.

You’re not making this at all easy.

Just as you start to drift back to sleep, there's a buzz somewhere around your head. Curses slip from your lips as you grope around the duvet, trying to locate your device with your half-asleep senses. With your eyes barely open, you try to read the contact name.

Of course it’s Satoru. Of course it’s a facetime call. He can’t settle for a damned text. It’s his brand at this point. You appreciate the attention, of course. But you’re sure you told him you’re going back to sleep in that voice note.

As soon as your finger swipes the little green icon to answer the call, you begin to speak, “I swear to god Satoru-”

“Hey baby,” he cuts you off. It sounds like he's in a confined space. A toilet stall, maybe? You're too sleepy to dwell on it. “I missed you”

“Mhmm..” You yawn. “‘Missed you too…”

The camera on his end is slightly shaky, and so is his breath. But in this sleepy state you can barely notice it really.

“What's up...?” you ask, flipping over and adjusting the phone, ”is everything okay?”

“Yeah—fuck—” his eyebrows furrow, giving you a moment of confusion. "You're looking so pretty—hah—baby."

“Satoru…” realization dawns on you, excitement stirring within. “Show me.”

The camera trembles as it takes him nearly a minute to respond to your request. Finally, his finger hits the flip camera button, giving you a shaky view of his fist wrapped around his length, stroking himself vigorously.

Pearly precum oozes from his tip, a thumb moving to spread it slightly before he goes back at it again.

“Oh? Is this all f’me?” You grin, observing his subdued grunts. It would be such a shame if someone were to come into the bathroom right now. “This early in the morning, too? Couldn’t you wait to get home at least?”

“Sh– hah– shut up,” he picks up the pace, starting from the very base, “at least make yourself– useful.”

Your tongue glides across your lower lip, considering your next move. While you love watching Satoru struggle on his own like this, relishing at the revelation that it’s the thought of you that makes him like this, you also think a little assistance wouldn’t harm.

“What do you wanna see?” You smirk smugly, enjoying this ordeal.

“Fuck– fuck– baby,” he’s quiet resilient with it, strokes increasing in pace little by little. “Sh-show me your tits, baby.”

“Hmm? What if I don’t?” Undeniably, you’re gonna regret this later. You savor the moment nonetheless. There’s a certain sort of zest in the control you have over this moment.

“Fuck you,” his fist tightens around his dick, veins popping out. You love the view. God, you wish you were there to help. Your thighs tighten to squelch the heat growing in your core. “Please, baby, ‘wanna see my girl’s pretty– shit– tits”

That’s enough to convince you. More than enough, actually. Without hesitation, you lift your t-shirt up, showing him a view that nearly makes him faint. He can almost feel the warmth of your skin against his. He feels his climax reaching. You move your fingers, massaging your breast. That was his endgame.

A string of curses begins to slip past his lips, along with a grunted “I’m gonna- fuck- I'm gonna cum-”

Your grin widens, biting your lower lip. “Mhm… so hard for me, ‘Toru..? Wish I was there to help…” Your words come out stretched, all on purpose. It causes a robust groan to thunder through him. The view begins to totter. With a final groan, milky robes seep out of Storu’s shaft, running down his white knuckles and onto his thighs. His breathes even out as he comes down from his high.

“You’re welcome,” you hum, satisfied. You put the phone to your side, pulling your shirt back down. When you picked the phone back up, the call was hung up. You almost feel offended, rushing to text him a ‘what the fuck?’

Before you could text him the half-angry message, your phone vibrates again.

‘sorry babe someone came in’ - 8:46 am ‘ill call u later’ - 8:46 am ‘love ya’ - 8:47 am

You roll your eyes, definitely planning on bringing this up later. Going back to sleep will be hard with the stain on your underwear.

Maybe you’re going to be the one to call this time so he could fix it.

#bella writes #gojo satoru #jjk #gojo x reader #jjk smut #gojo #gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader smut #satoru gojo #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #one more time hopefully

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darkfictionjude · 6 months ago

Note

tbh I always assumed if people found anything shocking about the masturbation scene it was simply the fact it was a masturbation scene. Like most IFs save any nsfw scenes for the ROs and barely even acknowledge masturbation exists, and in a lot of other media its either presented as being a comedic act or showcasing a character as being pathetic somehow.

So I just assumed any surprise was such a masturbation scene existing at all and not being treated ironically or anything.

Which I think is very sad tbf. Unless you’re a person not interested in sex or sex-adjacent things it is a non-shameful thing, a part of development towards finding out what you are personal into. I feel like it’s treated as a pathetic thing for male characters and then not thought for female characters since it’s not uncommon for female pleasure to be mischaracterized in media (e.g. how so many shows some even female centred have all women easily and quickly “completing” just from penetration alone and being able to accept penetration with no foreplay)

You’re right that I haven’t encountered it in many ifs. I felt right to be put it in not only because it fits the whole “mc figuring out who they are” theme but also because it’s a good way to introduce nsfw stuff without immediately needing to launch into the protag having sex with people

I think it’s a underrated aspect in IF

I might need to include a self pleasure option for all my ifs now 💀

#masturb*tion #we wretched creatures

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redvexillum · 2 months ago

Text

I...LOL. I just can't! HAHAHAH! This is too good! Thank you for this. I had way too much fun writing this one! Hehe!

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, simp!vox, p in v, vox develops minor shame kink, established relationship, assistant!reader, sassy!reader, writer tries her hand at humour, whipped!vox, an♡l (m!recieving), masturb♡tion, dild♡, cute couple squabble, soft!vox, miscommunication, love making

Like clockwork, Vox’s hand slid over your side, coming to rest on your hip with that same possessive, but gentle, touch you had grown used to. Your eyes fluttered open, blinking away the last remnants of sleep as you glanced at the clock.

7:00 a.m. Sharp. Again.

For the past six months, without fail, Vox woke you at this exact time, his silent request for intimacy clear in the way his body gravitated toward yours. Most mornings, you welcomed it – more than that, you often looked forward to these moments. Vox had been a far more generous lover than anyone you’d been with before, his touch careful, his attention focused entirely on you. But recently... something had changed.

You weren’t sure how to tell him, but his once electrifying passion had dulled. His caresses, his kisses, his rhythm – it was all different, somehow...lacking. Could someone regress from being a good lover to...quite frankly, a shitty one? The thought ate away at you as you rolled over to face him, his half-lidded, cheeky smile meeting you. His eyes, though still twinkling with the mischief you adored, looked drained, screaming of fatigue.

“Babe,” you mumbled, fingers absentmindedly playing with the collar of his light blue pyjamas. “You didn’t sleep again, did you?”

He leaned forward, pressing a small kiss to your forehead, and a familiar sensation of static charge danced across your skin, that familiar reminder of his TV-shaped head. “I got some sleep,” he said nonchalantly, as his hand sneaked under your shirt. His claws lightly grazed your navel, slowly tracing upwards to the underside of your breast, making your breath hitch.

Your hands, by now out of instinct, looped around his neck. He kissed you then – slow, tender, like always. At first, it felt the way it used to – his lips ghosting over your skin, his kisses trailing down your chest, the promise of more lingering in the air. But just as before – before the connection could deepen, before the heat between you could truly ignite, something shifted.

It was like he pressed fast-forward.

He quickly helped you out of your clothes, his own tossed to the floor without ceremony. His once slow and deliberate touches were gone, replaced with hurried, almost mechanical motions.

You weren’t a stranger to quickies. There was a time and place for fast, intense encounters. But this – this was different. This wasn’t the playful, passionate Vox you once knew. It had been months since there had been any foreplay, months since he took the time to savour you, to draw out those moments of intimacy. Now, it felt like he was simply going through the motions, his pace frantic, as though he were racing against an invisible clock.

For the past six months, he would reach his peak far too soon, leaving you unsatisfied and forgotten in the wake of his release. There was no more cuddling, no shared laughter, no warmth. Vox would slip out of bed almost immediately, pressing a quick, fleeting kiss to your lips before he headed to the shower, already focused on his day ahead.

You would lay there, staring at the ceiling, wondering when things had changed. You knew Voxtek was one of the biggest corporations in Hell, and you had tried to be understanding. He was busy, maybe overwhelmed. You had told yourself this was temporary. But as the days passed, you noticed the pattern.

He barely spent time with you anymore – at least not outside these rushed, mechanical mornings. He slipped into bed after you were already asleep, and his presence only seemed to be a formality before the 7 a.m. wake-up call. And when the intimacy came, it felt like an obligation rather than a desire. It left you cold, empty, and still yearning.

Six months of this, and you had to wonder, was it only temporary, or was something deeper slipping away.

You were patient, but you weren’t a fucking saint.

“Vox,” you muttered, watching him reach over to the bedside table, fingers closing around the bottle of lube. Your frustration simmered just beneath the surface, brows furrowing as you fought the urge to scream. How could he not get it? You weren’t wet because of his lack of foreplay, and slathering lube over the problem wouldn’t magically fix it.

The sharp click of the bottle opening sliced through the air, followed by the squelch of liquid as he poured it into his palm.

“Hmm?” Vox hummed absentmindedly as he lazily stroked his half-flaccid cock. Once. Twice. Three times. With frustrating ease, he was hard and ready, oblivious to the storm brewing inside you. He shifted, positioning himself between your legs, his hips aligning with yours as he pressed the head of his cock against your entrance. One hand gripped the headboard above you as he pushed in, his breath catching in a moan. “Oh, doll...”

You inhaled sharply, feeling the painful stretch as he entered you too quickly, your body unprepared for the intrusion. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, wanting a moment to adjust, to ease the discomfort before he inevitably started pounding away like he always did, mindless and fast. But instead of giving you that moment, he pushed your legs aside and lifted your hips, sitting back on his knees.

He began to roll his lips, his rhythm quick, mechanical, barely giving you time to catch your breath. The pleasure was there, buried beneath the hurried motions, but it felt forced, muted. Your body responded on instinct, your back arching slightly, a low moan escaping your lips. But then, as your eyes drifted up to his face, something felt off.

Your gaze locked on the corner of his screen, and your blood ran cold.

That fucking bastard was working. You could see the words being typed into an email, and his eyes weren’t even on you.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you screeched, the words exploding from your chest before you could stop them. Vox startled, his cock slipping out of you as he froze, caught in the act. You sat up, anger surging through your veins, your voice trembling with disbelief.

You knew he was busy. You both were. Between his nonstop business deals and your own endless reports and meetings, things were hectic. But bringing work into the bedroom, into the one space that was supposed to belong to both of you, the one place where you two were supposed to matter more than anything else – that was a line you wouldn’t cross.

Vox fumbled to minimize the email, his eyes wide, looking at you as if you were the one who had lost your mind. His ass was still planted on the bed, cock still hard, still leaking, and he had the audacity to look bewildered.

“How long have you been working while you’re fucking me, Vox?” you snarled, your face flushed with anger as your chest heaved. You could practically feel the heat radiating from your skin as you glared at him, daring him to answer.

Vox opened his mouth, his lips forming a weak excuse, but no words came out. Instead, his shoulder sagged, and a sheepish look crept across his face as he finally realized the gravity of what he’d done.

Your lips twitched, caught somewhere between wanting to laugh and wanting to scream. But instead, something darker took hold of you, a delicious, petty spirit descending upon you. Your eyes slid toward his nightstand, where his sleek, black VPhone sat innocently among the clutter.

“Baby, I can explain,” Vox stammered, his cock still standing at attention, as if completely ignorant of the chaos brewing between you. He raised a hand in a gesture of surrender, his eyes pleading.

“Sure, babe, explain,” you said, your voice sickly sweet as you grabbed his phone, your fingers curling around the smooth device.

“What are you doing with my phone?” he asked, panic flashing in his eyes, darting back and forth between his phone and your face.

Two could play this game. And if he was going to divide his attention, so could you.

You were his personal assistant outside the bedroom, and you took pride in being damn good at it. You handled his calendar, his meetings, even drafted his emails when he was too busy. It was a partnership in every sense, except lately, that balance was off.

Unlocking his phone with a swipe – 6969, of course – you suppressed an eye roll. When your gaze flicked up, Vox was watching you nervously, his usual confidence faltering. You smirked, pressing your hand gently but firmly on his shoulder, urging him to lie down. He complied, confusion clouding his face.

“Relax, sweetie,” you purred. “You’ve been so busy lately; you had to work while fucking me. So, I thought I’d help you out.” Your voice was sugar-sweet, but there was a dangerous edge to your tone, and you found a flicker of satisfaction when you saw him gulp.

“You’re not mad?” he asked, his voice wavering, the unease clear.

You gave him a slow, knowing smile. “I wouldn’t say I’m mad,” you said softly, but the truth was burning beneath your skin.

Furious was closer.

Without another word, you straddled his hips, lining him up with your entrance, and sank down on his cock in one smooth, deliberate motion. The heat between you both was instant, your walls fluttering around him, drawing a groan from his lips as his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. His hands naturally reached for your hips, gripping them as if he could anchor himself in the pleasant sensation.

Slowly, you began to roll your hips, dragging yourself up inch by agonizing inch before sinking back down, taking your time. “Let’s see here,” you said in a toneless voice, pretending to be lost in his phone. Your eyes scanned his calendar as you moved, your voice calm despite the slow, steady heat building inside you. “Oh, look at this - ‘Sexy time with my honey from 7:00 a.m. to 7:15 a.m.’” You shot him a look, raising a brow as you quoted his own schedule.

His eyes snapped open, and he looked at you, wide-eyed and panicked. “I-I can explain-”

“Don’t bother,” you interrupted, your voice icy as you slammed your hips down hard, your clit brushing against him with a sharp wave of pleasure. His cock twitched inside you, and you let out a small, satisfied moan, half-lidded eyes daring him to make a move. “You’ve got this set to repeat indefinitely,” you said darkly, leaning forward so that your breasts pressed flushed against his chest, your fingers trailing over the bezel of his head, teasing.

“Voxxy,” you cooed, your voice rich with sultry menace, “unless you never want to fuck me again, I suggest you get rid of that.” You pressed your lips closer to his face, your breath hot against him. “Now.”

“D-done,” he gasped out, his voice thick with desperation as he tried to keep his composure beneath you. “Done, done, done,” he repeated like a mantra, gripping your hips harder as his control slipped. His hips bucked against you, his need overtaking any remaining restraint. “Fuck, doll, I’ll delete it, it’s gone.”

But you weren’t done yet. “Are you going to come right now, Vox?” you whispered, feeling him pulse inside you, his thrusts becoming frantic. You could feel how close he was, but you were nowhere near your release, and you weren’t going to let him finish before you.

He groaned, his voice strained. “S-so close,” he moaned, his grip tightening as his pace grew erratic, hips slamming against you with reckless abandon. “So, fucking close, baby.”

You narrowed your eyes, a wicked smile playing on your lips. Oh no, he wasn’t getting off that east. If he wanted to come, he’d have to earn it. And if that meant sitting on his face until you screamed his name, then so be it.

“You’re not done until I say you’re done,” you whispered darkly before pulling him out of you, leaving him throbbing, desperate, and at your mercy.

Leaning forward, you pressed his cock against your stomach, feeling his twitched against you. You tilted your head to the side, your lips so close to him that they brushed against the cold, metallic surface of his face. With a soft breath, you whispered, “Booooo.”

“B-boo?” he echoed, bewilderment lacing his tone.

You grinned mischievously, propping yourself up on one elbow and resting your cheek in your palm. “That’s right, I’m boo-ing you,” you teased, voice light but carrying a sting. “Where I’m from when the performance is bad? We boo.”

His eyes widened, your words sinking in like a slow burn. “P-performance?” he stammered, his tone cracking, as if unsure whether you were serious.

“That’s right, Vox,” you replied, your voice dripping with mock enthusiasm as you tilted your head sweetly. “Booo! The sex is terrible!” you shot him a raised brow before he could even respond, already sitting back up, the weight of your body sinking onto his cock again with an unhurried grace, your back straight like you were perched on a throne.

You tapped his phone, scrolling through his inbox, and let out a long, exaggerated groan. “Seriously, Vox? You signed a contract with Double Red Productions? What the hell is wrong with you?” You lifted your hips, then slammed back down, drawing a strangled moan from him that he barely managed to suppress. “Don’t you know they’re understaffedand can’t even come close to Fox’s Dungeon Studio when it comes to producing content?”

Vox’s cock twitched inside you, and you could feel the tension rippling through him, his fingers trembling as he held your hips, trying not to move, knowing full well the depths of your annoyance. “Honey, I-”

But you weren’t done. Another tap, and you clicked the next email. Your eyes scanned it before you let out a mocking laugh. “Oh, please tell me you didn’t actually send this to N. Quip, Co?” You rolled your eyes. “You spelled ‘receive’ wrong in every single line, Vox. Every. Single. Time.” You tutted, scrolling through the rest of the error-riddled email. “I bet you turned off spell check again, didn’t you? Well, there goes our contract with that company.” You sighed as you looked at him with a raised brow. “Voxtek is going to crumble at the hands of its incompetent CEO,” you sang, voice saccharine with false sympathy.

And that’s when you felt it – a shiver running through his body, his cock pulsing hard inside you. Oh. Well, now this was interesting. He seemed to enjoy being put in his place.

Leaning forward, you pressed down on him harder, falling back onto his chest, your nose barely grazing against his face. “Look at you, Vox. Working so hard, and yet you can’t seem to do a single thing right.” His breath hitched, his chest rising and falling quickly beneath you. “Can’t satisfy the shareholders...” you whispered, slowly sitting up and dragging your hips up, teasing him with the slow friction. “And you certainly can’t satisfy your lover.”

You slammed back down, his length filling you to the hilt, and he groaned, lips parting as his eyes fluttered shut. ��

“Fuck,” he breathed out, a sound almost too raw to be dignified.

“You’re honestly quite terrible at your job,” you murmured, voice deceptively gentle and sweet as you rocked your hips again, deliberately slow, savouring each tremble, each reaction. “Where would you be without me?” you hummed, a sing-song taunt that you knew would get under his skin.

His claws brushed up your sides in a soft, almost apologetic caress, his eyes barely opening as he gasped out, “Honey, I’m sor-”

You slid off Vox’s cock once more with a sudden, fluid motion, tossing his phone carelessly aside as it landed with a soft thud on the bed. With purposeful slowness, you crawled up his body, your dripping core hovering just inches above his face. His eyes fixated immediately on your glistening folds, hungry, desperate. “Vox, I’m going to cum today, and you’re going to watch,” you commanded, your voice quiet yet laced with undeniable authority.

Vox let out a deep, guttural growl, his hands quickly finding your hips as he pulled you down toward his face. The familiar static charge of his touch set a pleasurable shiver through your spine. “Gladly, princess,” he murmured, before his long, thick tongue darted out, pressing hot and firm against your slick folds.

You gasped, a breathy sound of surprise and delight escaping your lips – it had been so long since he’d given you this kind of attention. His clawed fingers dug into the soft flesh of your backside, holding you in place as his tongue worked magic between your legs. He dragged the flat of it across your swollen clit, sending sparks of pleasure through you with every slow, tantalizing stroke.

“Mhm...” You moaned, your head falling back, chest heaving with each sensual swipe of his tongue. Nothing, not even your toys, could match the way his mouth made you feel. The raw need in his motions, the way his tongue teased and taunted your sensitive nerves – it was almost too much.

“Fuck,” Vox growled into you, the vibration of his voice making you shudder. “I forgot how fucking delicious you taste,” he moaned, and the wet lewd, sounds of his tongue slurping against your folds filled the air. His tongue slipped deeper, thrusting into your core, the muscle thick and warm as it explored your inner walls.

Through the haze of pleasure, you heard the unmistakable sound of skin slapping against skin. You glanced back and saw him stroking himself as he devoured you, his hand working feverishly along his cock while his tongue worked to please you.

“Look at what you’re missing – ah – out on, Vox,” you whimpered, your voice breathless as your hips rocked against his face, pressing your clit harder against the wet, slick heat of his tongue. His moans were muffled between your legs, but you could feel the vibration reverberate through as he sucked and licked with desperate intensity, trying to lap up every drop of your arousal.

He was so good at this, so masterful with his tongue, that you almost regretted what came next. Almost. But you had other plans for him tonight. After all, you’d always been the one to teach him the best way to handle things, whether in business or the bedroom.

Reluctantly, you pulled away, standing above him, his head lifting off the bed slightly as his tongue flicked out, chasing your taste. His screen was smeared with your arousal, his mouth parted, eyes half-lidded and glistening with lust.

“Now, Vox,” you purred, crawling over to the bedside table, fully aware that his eyes were glued to your dripping pussy as you moved. “I think you need a lesson in what it looks like when I actually cum.” Reaching into the drawer, you pulled out a cyan blue Voxtek-made dildo, your companion for the past several months.

“F-fuck,” Vox groaned, his hand gripping his cock as he sat up slightly, unable to tear his eyes away from you. “You want me to fill both holes for you, baby doll? I can do that,” he offered eagerly, his grin wide, red drool dribbling from the corner of his mouth as he watched.

You smirked, shaking your head. “Mhm, no,” you teased, leaning back on the bed, spreading your legs wide as you positioned the dildo between your thighs. Slowly, you slid it inside, making sure to exaggerate every moan, every gasp as the thick toy filled you. “Ah, fuck...” you whined, arching your back as you pressed it deeper, all the way to the hilt. The sensation was so much smoother now, thanks to the way Vox had worked you up with his mouth.

Vox watched with rapt attention, his hand tightening around the base of his cock, his breathing heavy and laboured as you put on a show for him. His eyes were wild with lust, every movement you made sending him closer to the edge, but you weren’t done with him yet. This was only the beginning.

“You’re not allowed to cum, Vox,” you commanded, your voice breathless but firm as you slowly pumped the dildo in and out of your slick heat. The wet, rhythmic schlick sound filled the room, growing louder, more obscene with every thrust. “Do you hear me?” you panted, your wrist working faster, each motion pushing the toy deeper, hitting that sweet spot inside you. Faster and faster, your breath came out in soft, needy moans.

Vox, gripping the base of his cock hard, knuckles turning a shade lighter, kept his eyes flicking between your face and the way you pleasured yourself. His chest rose and fell rapidly, breaths quickening with every passing second. You could see the ravenous hunger in his eyes, the desire etched across his face, wishing – aching – that it was his cock buried deep inside you instead of that toy. Yet, despite the tension radiating from his trembling body, he held back, obeying your command.

Biting your lower lip, you revelled in the control, in the sight of him struggling to remain still as he watched you chase your pleasure. His restraint only heightened your arousal, each shaky breath he took adding to the fire building low in your belly. Your abdomen tightened, your inner walls clenched around the dildo, and your chest thrust forward as you plunged the toy deep inside yourself, a loud moan escaping your lips as you finally came. Wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over you, leaving your body trembling and rocking with aftershocks.

As your breathing slowed, you opened your eyes to find Vox still watching you, his hand moving slowly along his shaft, clearly desperate for release. His gaze, however, flickered up to yours with uncertainty, silently asking whether you’d grant him permission – or leave him on the edge of oblivion, unfulfilled.

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you pulled the slick dildo from yourself, its gleaming surface reflecting the light. You prowled up closer to him, your hand lazily tracing a path from his knee to his inner thigh. Leaning in, you whispered, “Lay down.”

Vox swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he slowly reclined, his eyes darting between the toy in your hand and the look on your face. There was an unspoken conversation, a deep understanding shared between you. His knees parted, his hips arching slightly upward, cock twitching in anticipation of what was to come.

“Now that I’ve shown you how I look when I cum,” you teased, tracing the blunt tip of the dildo around the tight ring of his ass, “shall I teach you how to fuck your lover properly?”

He inhaled sharply, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes squeezed shit for a moment before reopening, locking onto yours. His gaze was steady, free of hesitation, filled with trust and desire. A small, wicked smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you kissed the inside of his knee, his muscles twitching beneath your touch.

“Yeah, show me how to fuck, doll,” Vox finally rasped out, his voice rough, laced with need. A shit-eating grin spread across his face. “But I get to show you what I’ve learned afterwards, right?” he added with a low purr, his claws lightly grazing your leg.

With a sly grin, you pushed the dildo inside him, inch by inch, his breath sharp and quick. “Ah, fuck,” he moaned, his head falling back against the pillow, his hands gripping the sheets. “Yeah, fuck, been a while,” he murmured as you sank the toy to the hilt. Bowing your head, you pressed a kiss to the middle of his shaft, feeling the way his cock throbbed under your lips.

“How does it feel using my toy, secondhand?” you taunted, tracing your tongue along the thick vein of his length, flicking the tip when you reached the head of his cock, now slick with pre-cum.

Vox groaned deeply, his abs clenching as he arched slightly off the bed. “Sexy,” he gasped, his voice strained, his body taut with tension. “It’s so fucking sexy,” he sighed as you withdrew the toy, only to push it back inside him with a steady, deliberate rhythm. His cock twitched violently, and he moaned, his voice thick with pleasure, as you continued to tease him, watching every inch of him unravel beneath you.

You hummed softly before wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock, tasting the salty, musky flavour of him. Your tongue teased him while you plunged the toy deeper into his ass, creating a rhythm between your mouth and hand. Slowly, you drew your lips back, savouring the taste as you pulled the toy out in perfect synchronization. His moans grew louder, and you felt his legs widen further, surrendering his body completely to your control, offering you access to every part of him however you pleased.

“Fuck, baby, I-I'm not gonna last – ugh – long if y-you keep at this,” Vox groaned, his voice trembling as you pressed the dildo deep inside him once more, your mouth closing over his tip, sucking with a wet pop as you pulled back.

Grinning up at him, you wrapped your hand around his cock and began to move faster while you licked the tip of his cock. Your other hand continued its relentless pace, thrusting the toy in and out of his ass, each movement coaxing louder moans from his lips.

“Oh fuck, fuck,” Vox cried out, his voice strained. You could hear the soft whir of a fan inside him, a faint spark arcing from his face to his antennae, betraying how close he was. His hips twitched upward, desperate to thrust deeper into your mouth, but he held himself back, trying to obey your silent command to stay still.

You didn’t let up, increasing your speed, your mouth and hand working together to bring him closer and closer to the edge. His muscles rippled under your touch, his abs tensing as you slammed the dildo in a with a wet, obscene squelch. Saliva dripped down his shaft, coating his balls as his body began to tremble uncontrollably.

Vox’s back arched off the bed, his teeth gritting together as he finally let go. A loud groan tore from his throat as his cock twitched violently in your mouth. You felt the sharp taste of his release hitting the back of your throat in thick pulses, each spurt filling your mouth as you continued to suck gently at his tip. His hips fell back to the bed, his body spent but his cock still throbbing in your warm, wet mouth.

You released him and looked up to see his screen had gone dark, a small loading symbol spinning lazily in the centre. With a snort of amusement, you removed the dildo and noticed the words printed beneath the loading sign:

Honey, just rocked my world, please wait.

You raised a brow, tilting your head in disbelief before bursting out in laughter. The sound filled the room, and you let yourself enjoy the moment, your hand drifting up his smooth chest and stomach, feeling the rise and fall of his warm body beneath your fingertips. With a satisfied smile, you laid beside him, pressing your cheek against his arm while draping one leg over his waist. His body was warm and familiar, a sensation you had missed for far too long.

“I cancelled all your meetings for this afternoon, Vox,” you mumbled softly, nuzzling against him. “Consider it a personal day...to spend with your lover after working so hard for the last six months.”

Vox, still rebooting, couldn’t respond right away, but you felt his fingers twitch. Slowly, his hand closed around yours, a gentle squeeze that said everything without words.

With a contented smile, you closed your eyes, the warmth of his touch wrapping around you like a soft, toasty blanket as you waited for him to wake.

Six long months without him, and now, finally, you had him back in your arms.

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

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jennaortegasshoes · 1 year ago

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Confessions

WARNING: pervy!ethan, shy!ethan, sub!ethan, masturb!tion!ethan, dom!reader, fake innocent!reader, dirty!ethan, handjob!e receiving, blowjob!e receiving

short summary: reader inviting ethan over to study, ethan gets distracted and masturbates to readers voice, reader acts innocent and leads ethan on.

DNI IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE I AM NOT IN CHARGE OF WHAT YOU READ, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

"okay so ethan, what is it your struggling on?" You took a seat at your desk, opening your study notebook to get started. Ethan shifting to the side so he could lean over and take a look. "i-its algebra, i struggle with algebra." he cleared his throat.

"okay so, you can take a seat on my bed while i talk you through it, is that okay?" you turned your head to look at him.

he nodded and sat on your bed, putting his workbook down next to him. "thats okay. Uhm where do we start" you turned back around to face your own paper. "Okay its fairly easy, any numbers combined with a letter are what we are going to have to work out, see that 'x' next to the number '2?' Thats what were focusing on okay?"

"uh-huh" he found himself lost in your voice, like he was trapped around your words, every time you spoke sent a lightening strike to his cock. "u-uhm, so if i just add the two numbers together and add the x onto the first number is that correct?" his breath was shaky.

"good ethan! do you want me to keep walking you through the calculations?"

"y-yes, y-yes please" He couldnt help the stutters coming from his mouth, he wanted you to keep talking. Infact he never wanted you to stop.

you chuckle "eager arent we, so if were gonna talk about equations that don't have the answer to 'x' were going to have to find out 'x' before we can complete the equation! For example here we have 7 + x - 5 = 8, what we have to do is 8+5-7! To find 'x' which is 6! To which we can replace x with 6 and the equation is complete!!"

He was palming himself through his jeans, your voice was pushing him into a different mindset, the way you were talking was turning him on. "o-oh okay. uh-huh"

"so now you know how to do that can you complete those questions for me ethan?" you push your chair back, "its page 12 of the booklet i gave you."

a low grown escaped his mouth. "s-sorry yeah." he uses his free hand to flick through the pages.

"do you need any extra help, or do you think what i told you was enough for you to. let go" you tilt your head to the side flicking through your own workbook to revise.

"no no it was enough." his breathing was becoming heavier, and his hand wasn't doing enough palming him over his clothes, he needed more, and he was going to get more. He popped open the top button on his jeans carefully unzipping so it wasn't to obvious of the dirty deed he is about to commit.

"ethan, when your finished with that would you come over here for me?"

"of course, uhm im just starting this n-now." He freed his cock from his boxers, letting it hit his lower stomach, before grabbing it and pumping it. "c-can you tell me how to do it again please" he needed you to speak.

"oh sure! So you just need to find the value of 'x' too complete the equations! Like i said 7+x-5=8, all you have to do is add 5 to 8 to get 13 then take away 7 from that answer so you get 6! easy peasy! Do you get it?"

"o-oh, mhm yeah i get it" he grunts pumping his cock in his fist faster, his breath getting shakier and quiet moans erupting from his mouth.

you tilt your head to the side, you heard him "ethan? You okay?" You were slightly worried.

"y-yeah im okay y/n, j-just doing my work" his hand staying at the fast paste and the knot in his stomach beginning to form

you notice the slight whimpers, the low grunts and the moans. you realise what hes doing. you weren't mad. you were more than excited. excited to tease him

"ethan, you know I've always wanted to run my fingers through your hair" you smirk "run my hand down your neck and your back, ive seen you be so stressed recently. ive been wanting to give you a massage"

he moans, thinking about those things happening, his perfect fantasies coming to life were more than enough for him to let go, enough for him to cum.

"anyways ethan, you gonna come?" You smirk to yourself

"w-what?" his chest rising and falling at a speedy pace

"you know, you gonna come? come over here?"

"o-oh right! yeah come over there!" he gulps "i'm kinda s-stuck on my work r-right now. U-uhm maybe after?" He lets out a low moan

"how about i come over there, and help you?" you push yourself off the chair and onto the ground

"maybe i can even, suck your dick?" You turn to face him.

"s-suck my d-dick? He opens his eyes to see you looking at him.

you take your steps over to the bed before dropping onto your knees "you dont want me to?" You tilt your head to the side looking up at him with dark eyes.

"no no no please do please!" he bites his lip looking down at you desperately, all his fantasies coming true in a beat of a heart.

"anything for you big boy" grabbing a hold of his cock and pumping it a few times, watching his foreskin roll back and his pre-cum drip out of his tip.

he throws his head back, his eyes rolling back into his skull, this is all he has ever wanted. and its here right in front of him.

you lower your head down licking a stripe along the crease on his tip. pushing the tip into your mouth, then the body wrapping your lips around his length.

"f-fuck" he opens his eyes, just to watch you suck his cock. "g-go, please"

you swirl your tongue around him, pulling yourself up and pushing yourself back down, sucking his dick. Maintaining eye-contact. looking up at him through your lashes.

he whimpers feeling the pure ecstasy of your mouth, the pleasure re-building fast from his lost orgasm from before. "y-y/n im g-gonna cum! p-please let me cum"

you keep bobbing your head on his cock. "Cum, cum for me ethan." You mumble around him.

he lets out a low moan, his orgasm crashing down, from the vibrations sent to his cock and the permission you gave him.

you swallowed the thick string of cum that emptied into your mouth, pulling off his cock before replacing it with your hand to get him through his orgasm.

"G-god, y-y/n" he came down from his orgasm, breath heavy.

You stand up. wiping your mouth with the sleeve of your sweater.

"i think you should come study at mine more often"

#Spotify #jack champion smut #jack champion #ethan landry #ethan landry smut #scream 6

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neotohuu · 1 year ago

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Bunny (Male Oc x Male/Gn Reader)

Tags: top oc, playboy magazine model/bottom reader (no gender mentioned really), masturb*tion (a), c*m tribute (u), stalk*ng on social media (i), kalel's vivid imagination, kalel is highkey obessessed with you, and age gap mentioned (kalel is older, you are younger)

Kalel immediately tugged down his pants in his hotel room when he finally got the newest Playboy magazine with you in it. Sure, the other bunnies were hot, but you were just...erotic in every fucking way possible.

He groaned as he rubbed his cock vigorously to a picture of you in the magazine in a scandalous position, yet an innocent and happy smile was on your face as if you were grabbing souls.

His soul specifically.

Kalel felt a chuckle and low moan bubble in his throat as he vividly imagines your beautiful body bouncing on his dick.

He pulls out his phone and types in your instagram username. He huffs in frustration as he waits for your account to load up. Finally, it does.

The older man taps a picture of you with your mouth open, tongue sticking out as you pulled out a lollypop from that hot and probably tight mouth.

That picture of you was something he had already given a like to, as well to your thousands of photos on the internet. Any picture of you.

May it be something innocent and wholesome, or something not so safe for work.

He's seen it and liked it all.

The man throws his head back as he imagines you sucking on his fat cock, gagging and gurgling on his sticky cum as he spurts his seed onto his screen.

He uses the tip of his cock to spread his cum on the screen, and he imagines that it was shot in your mouth, you savoring the taste.

"Fucking....slut...yeah. Take it bunny." He breathes out but he wasn't done yet. His cock was still hard by the thought of you.

He looked down to his magazine and to his sheer luck, it was a magazine with you as the most featured bunny.

The next page he flipped through was you, arching that pretty back on the ground, legs spread.

You were fully naked except for your bunny ears, thigh highs and boots and for that butt plug that had a fluffy bunny tail on the outside.

Your hot and dripping sex was out in the picture and your face was flustered, it makes him wonder if someone fucked you before that or you were touching yourself before the picture.

He narrowed his eyes at the first posibility as he smacked his cock on the page. No. It couldn't be.

It's because you were waiting for his cock. The fat, juicy, veiny and thick cock that he has to fuck your tight hole with.

He lets out a groan at that thought of you saving yourself from everyone just for him only.

He flipped to the next page, it was your summer photos. Your sun kissed skin, your tan lines, the water glistening on your skin...holy shit.

His thick seed spurted out once more, the viscous liquid spreading on your pictures. He sighed in relief as he tried to tuck his cock back in his pants, but it was hard.

Again.

Kalel started lazily stroking his cock once more to a picture of you in the magazine, and a whine almost left his lips as he realized that this magazine...has 50 pages.

"It's gonna be a long night, right Bunny?"

#bottom male reader #male reader #x male reader #oc x male reader #gender neutral reader #x bottom reader #male oc

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donutsupremacy · 1 month ago

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Accidental Desperation (Pt. II)

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Summary:

"Your roommate finds it hard to sleep at night after their dreams were filled with you, and that caused just enough problems for him in his boxers. It seems like there's no other way to get rid of it but to take the matter into his own hands... literally."

Warnings/Spoilers:

Written during 5.0

Featuring the second half of 6reeze (Kazuha, Heizou, Scara/Wanderer)

Modern AU

Gender neutral reader

Possible impr*gn*tion is up to your own assumption

Scara's gonna be called Scaramouche here bc its modern AU (But if u wanna call him smth else be my guest)

And they were roommates shenanigans

PURE UNADULTERATED SMUT

and a bit of fluff lol why not

⚠️ MINORS DNI ⚠️

M*sturb*tion

Voyeurism (I think)

Wet dreams

Perverted 6reeze j*rking off to lewd pictures of you

Cursing

A bit of sl*t sh*ming + D*cryph*lia (Scara)

Praise + Br**ding k*nk (Kazuha)

Unhinged st*lking + P*nty theft and sniffing (Heizou)

I'll die on the 'Scara has a degration kink' hill

Not proofread bc busy and dying

A/N: wELL BETTER LATE THAN NevER

Continuation from Part I

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⚠️MINORS DNI⚠️

Kaedehara Kazuha

Startled awake, Kazuha sat up abruptly and nearly fell off his bed. Hair clinging to his sweaty forehead, face flushed and eyes blown wide, almost out of his socket. Kazuha quickly got up from his bed and made a beeline to his bathroom.

But no matter how many times he splashed his face with water, snippets of his dream just kept appearing.

He didn't know how to stop himself from repeating this... debauchery. About dreaming you underneath him, whimpering and squirming while he breeds you full of his cum like a desperate wolf in heat.

Tears trailing down your eyes as you struggled to speak or even think, only babbling incoherently while he pumps you full. There's nothing more satisfying than to see you filled to the brim with his load. Possibly filled with his babies too.

Kazuha sat back down on his bed right as his phone lit up, he had received a notification from a friend, but he was more focused on the wallpaper of his lockscreen— a picture of you and Kazuha hanging out at a carnival.

It's cute and wholesome... but in reality, his camera roll was either full of cats or pretty sceneries... Or just you alone. And there were almost millions.

He had shamefully jerked off to every one of them.

The latest one was when you sent him a picture of yourself yesterday, wearing his hoodie and his shorts— something about you feeling cold and you being too lazy to wash your dirty clothes. But all he could think about was you wearing his clothing, your oh-so breedable body bare and naked underneath something he always wore.

With a painful erection, Kazuha stared at the seemingly cute and wholesome picture for a good minute, wishing you would've sent a more explicit one. Or just a nude of yourself, that would be indefinitely better.

He's a gentleman, everyone knows how soft, kind and sweet he is... but he couldn't resist masturbating tonight after dreaming himself fucking your brains out. You were asleep anyways, so might as well, he just had to stay quiet...

Discarding his shorts, Kazuha got to work with lazily pumping himself slowly while glancing at your picture every so often.

He imagines himself thrusting his cock into you, showering you with praises. Oh, he knows you'd definitely enjoy it as much as he does. You would tighten around him like a vicegrip after hearing his sweet words, refusing to let him go until he came inside you. He'd leave you nice and full, peppering you with affection.

Outside his door stood you, you wanted to ask Kazuha if you could borrow his hoodie again, your clothes were dirty again and it was late into the night.

Creeps are everywhere at this hour, even at the laundromat. You weren't about to risk that again.

But as you got closer, you heard stifled gasps and groans, unmistakably Kazuha's. His normally soft-spoken voice was too quiet for you to hear anything else, plus the doors and the walls weren't very thin or soundproof. You wonder if he might be sick, which wouldn't be very likely since he's a healthy guy but you're still worried.

You turned the knob and pushed the door open enough for you to enter, calling out for Kazuha with concern, who was still in the middle of building up his climax. But when he heard your voice in the midst of the quiet room, he froze up.

You're standing there, flustered and confused, eyes trained on his flushed face and his hand around his throbbing cock. Well... shit.

"...Well, ah... Th-This isn't... what it looks like..." Kazuha spoke sheepishly.

No point in hiding himself anymore, it's too late, you already saw him butt naked. And vulnerable.

He did his best to stay calm, apologising for being a degenerate and asking if you could leave so he could clean up after himself. He feels as though he has let you down by disgusting you.

But the sound of you closing the door and approaching him startled Kazuha a little. When he saw you sitting down next to him without a word, he wasn't going to complain at all, his fantasy was coming true. Although, he was still embarrassed.

He knew what you were trying to do, but he protested against it, thinking you probably felt obliged to help him just because he was pent up.

You gently swatted his hand away when he tried to let you know you didn't have to, your hand wrapped around his cock. It twitched under your warmth and Kazuha lets out a shaky gasp, his hips struggling to stay grounded and not cum immediately.

"Please... just let me do it for you instead. I know I don't... need to. But I want to."

Shikanoin Heizou

Not again...

This has been going on ever since you both became roommates and he grew obsessive over you, Heizou goes to sleep and frequently wakes up after dreaming of being in-between your legs, thrusting in and out of you rapidly while you're left desperately clutching the nearest surface with weak and shaky hands.

What is this— the 4th time this week? 5th? Maybe even 6th? Probably, Heizou lost count already. Either way, he woke up. And now he's hard for you.

His morals be damned, he's done this probably a thousand times already and it feels so good everytime. It helps Heizou a lot that he had pictures of you on his phone, but Archons forbid that if you ever found out how he got those pictures, you'd probably report him to the authorities.

You're surprisingly oblivious to your surroundings sometimes, it's easy to just slip right into your bedroom and hide under your bed, watching you undress while you ramble to your friend on the phond about whatever was inconveniencing you.

And whenever you were asleep, he would silently creep out, admiring the way your hair spreads across the pillow and the soft snores you emit.

How he'd wish he could just have his way with you you right then and there, but it wouldn't be fair to you and you wouldn't like it. So, as much as he didn't want to waste the opportunity, he'd place a fleeting kiss on your forehead so you'd have a pleasant dream and leave.

With a picture of you in the middle of taking off your clothes that left your bare torso exposed, and a pair of your underwear he had stole on the way out, Heizou had everything he needed.

Boxers down, your photo in one hand, Heizou eagerly wrapped your underwear around his hard cock and groaned at the feeling. You had such great choices for cute and soft underwear, they certainly suit that ass.

Jerking off, Heizou did his best to muffle his moans and unabashed grunts, the fabric of your underwear giving him the relief that his hands never could.

He picked up the pace, furiously pumping his cock against the fabric of your clothing, his hips lifting up and thrusting into his fist. His tongue darting out to lick his lips, wishing it was you he was thrusting into instead of his hand.

Dirty thoughts fill his head, imaging himself bending you over a desk, an iron grip on your hips strong enough to leave a bruise. Your head pressed against the hard surface but not too hard that it would hurt, enjoying the way Heizou was fucking your brains out. Enjoying the way he handles you so gently, yet, so roughly.

And you, sweet summer child, got woken up from the sound of creaking. You noticed it came from the wall that seperated your room from Heizou's, what was Heizou doing this time?

You swore, every night the creaking gets louder and louder, as if whatever Heizou was doing was slowly breaking his bed that he didn't even realize it.

Getting out from your bed, you dragged yourself across the floor. Out of your room, approaching Heizou's. Admittedly, you're head over heels in love with the charismatic rebel you call your roommate... but you also loved sleeping. And you're dead tired right now. It was past midnight.

You knock on Heizou's door, calling out for him and asking him to save whatever he was doing for tomorrow, stating that he was being noisy.

For a moment, Heizou felt his soul leave his body when he heard your voice and the knock on the door. You're on the other side of the door... He grins. You're on the other side of the door.

Instead of hiding himself or asking you to leave, which you were planning to do once he grew quiet, Heizou slowed down to deny the rising climax he had building up in his abdomen.

He calls for your name.

You stopped in your tracks, raising a brow as you glanced back at Heizou's door. When he called out your name a second time, he didn't just call out— he demanded for your presence in a husky tone. A shiver runs down your spine.

As you open the door, hesitantly peeking in, you were met with Heizou sitting by the edge of his bed. Resting his chin on one arm propped on his knee and the held your underwear, being wrapped around his throbbing cock, slowly pumping up and down.

"Waiting for an invitation? Already gave you one~" Heizou cooed, nodding his head towards his cock. You wouldn't say no, not after how much you often talk about him late at night without realizing he was there.

Despite your initial shock and confusion, you obediently closed the door behind you and approached Heizou.

"Well... what'cha waiting for?" Heizou asked in a teasing tone. As endearing as it is seeing you all flustered and embarrassed, he didn't need to push it so far. Right now, he wanted you to get used to his cock before he rails you.

"Uhm... nothing."

Scaramouche

Damn you. Damn you to absolute hell for being hot. That was the first thing Scaramouche thought of when that cursed dream occured again. Not that he'll admit it to being a blessing in disguise.

Even after taking a freezing cold shower, he finds himself still rock hard.

Drying himself, Scaramouche muttered a string of curses after tossing his now wet towel aside. He's way too horny to go back to bed, and he's much too prideful to masturbate like a damn pervert.

He's sitting on the edge of his bed with his shorts down and his throbbing cock out, he couldn't distract himself. No matter how much he tries, all he could think about was how pretty you'd look with your body spread out and exposed on his bed, like a feast for him and only him to devour.

You'd get so aroused as he teased you with his skillful fingers rubbing your insides, hands roaming across your body as he littered hickeys all over you.

Only when you start to writhe and cry would you begin to beg for Scaramouche to fuck you silly, like his perfect cumslut that you are. He'd pump his cock in and out of you, your face half buried into a pillow with his hand pressing your head down, pretty tears flowing down your red cheeks that he'd lean down and kiss away.

Something about you crying from the overwhelming pleasure while he dominates you just turns him on.

There's this constant nagging in the back of his head, telling him to get rid of the problem with his hands now or he'd stay restless. That, or it's just his hard-on aching for some much needed relief. And it needs it desperately.

So that was where Scaramouche is now; Pumping up and down on his shaft as he occasionally peeked at your photos that he took on his phone.

It was just a picture of you laying your head on his lap, fast asleep and his free hand carressing your head. Had you tilted your head a little more to the side, you would bury your face into his crotch. A part of him regrets not giving you a good awakening by stuffing his cock into your mouth, you wouldn't mind it anyways, would you?

Scaramouche tried to tone down his volume, trying oh so hard to not moan too loudly and wake you up. If you caught him jerking off to you, he'd be utterly embarrassed. His ego was far too fragile for that.

Unfortunately, he didn't realize that you were wide awake, about to head out for a midnight grocery trip. Your little snack stash was about to run low, and the store was just right across the road, you're sure Scaramouche wouldn't fret over this.

You're right, he wouldn't. Not when he's busy pumping himself without realizing you're peeking at him through his bedroom door.

At first, you were surprised and a little mortified at first. Archons forbid, you're looking at a guy jacking off.

But that feeling was soon replaced by a disgusting wave of arousal as you heard the indigo haired male barely wheeze out your name. He was close to his climax, and it was because of you.

As much as you wanted to stop, you can't. It's oddly addictive... to see your annoying but hot roommate touching himself to the thought of you, even to the edge of cumming.

Strings of white, hot cum splattered onto Scaramouche's bed, heavy and erratic panting filling his otherwise quiet bedroom. He slumped back down onto his bed, running a hand through his hair.

However, his brief moment of ecstasy and relief was abruptly interrupted when he heard a click from his door. "What—!?" A red tinge appears on his cheeks and ears, hearing your voice mutter out a 'shit!' when you accidentally closed the door too loudly. This damn door keeps snitching on you!

"[NAME]!" You froze outside his door, he's pissed. Very pissed.

As much as you'd like to make a break for it, you knew confrontation was inevitable.

You mustered up as much courage as you could, hesitantly opening the door and taking a step inside. You were caught off guard as a hand grabs the collar of your shirt and getting tugged harshly, your back hitting against the wall next to the door.

"Did you enjoy the show?" Dazed as you were, that voice was unmistakably Scaramouche's. And you bit your tongue to stop yourself from blurting out a yes. "Voyeurism kink, eh? How much more of a slut can you be?"

You stiffened when Scaramouche leaned closer, his breathing ragged and sweat glistening off his skin. Heat pooling in your abdomen, you swallowed thickly as his breath tickled against your nose.

A whimper leaves your throat as the only reply you had, oh... ohh he loved that sound so much... "Cat got your tongue now?" He sneered, letting go of your collar and swiftly lifted one of your legs up to his waist, forcing you to grab onto his shoulders for balance.

"How 'bout you show me how much you like the free show?" He purred, his free hand on your waist, tugging you closer.

"...F-Fine."

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin oneshots #genshin heizou x reader #genshin impact shikanoin heizou #genshin impact heizou #genshin heizou #genshin kazuha x reader #genshin kazuha #genshin impact kazuha #genshin impact kazuha x reader #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin scaramouche x reader #genshin scaramouche #genshin impact scaramouche x reader #genshin impact 6reeze #genshin 6reeze

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colormepurplex2 · 5 months ago

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As Fate Would Have It | A Thousand Lifetimes & It's Always You

↳ Producer!Yoongi x Bartender&TattooApprentice!Jungkook ⤜ Reincarnation/Soulmates, Strangers to Lovers ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 8,938 ⚠️ Crass language, drinking, almost-blowjob, cum licking, thoughts of masturbation, kissing, anal fingering, full blow job, cum swallowing, dick stroking, mild begging

⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to story masterlist

Yoongi

Soulmate Rejection (soul·mate re·jec·tion) noun a. the dismissing or refusing of the proposal or idea of the existence of a soulmate or the shared mark and sensations b. the act of spurning a person's affections, specifically that of a fated mate

The definition, provided by a quick Google search, stares at Yoongi from the dimmed screen of his computer monitor. He chews his bottom lip, trying, not for the first time, to gather his thoughts into a coherent line.

It seems like such a foreign concept. The knowledge of soulmates in general is slim, mostly reserved for myths, fairytales, and history books. There are a few well-known pairs, though, primarily celebrities who have enough money and resources to do the necessary footwork to find their soulmate. Though, even then, it’s a drastically impractical concept to believe in. Celebrities aren’t exactly known for their honesty, after all.

Yoongi has read enough of the historical claims to believe in them the same way one might believe in Arthur Pendragon or Robin Hood. It’s possible they were real people, but probability suggests either they never were or they weren’t what myth has made them out to be.

So, in the last week, Yoongi has all but convinced himself that his encounter with the bartender—Jungkook—was actually just a bizarre fever dream of epic proportions.

“What’re you reading?” Namjoon’s voice startles Yoongi, breaking through his mental fog.

“What? Oh, nothing,” he says, quickly clicking out of the web browser search results.

But, not quick enough clearly. “Soulmate Rejection?”

Battling down his embarrassment, Yoongi clears his throat and swings his chair around to face his friend. He doesn’t bother asking how Namjoon got into his apartment. Yoongi knows he has a key and uses it for his leisure; it’s why he gave it to him in the first place. But now, it’s on the tip of Yoongi’s tongue to ask for it back.

Yoongi shrugs. “Curiosity, that’s all.”

“And for some reason,” Namjoon says, dropping onto the leather couch on the other side of the small space Yoongi uses as his home studio, “I don’t believe you. Come on, man, tell me what’s going on.”

It wouldn’t be easy to continue hiding his fugue from Namjoon. His friend is just far too perceptive and in tune with Yoongi for that. Yoongi is grateful to have such a caring friend, but it also makes him feel infinitely more vulnerable in situations like this.

Taking a deep breath and shoving a hand through his unruly hair, Yoongi asks, “I, uh, I know who they are.” The tattoo at the base of his neck tingles as he recalls black hair and dark, chestnut eyes sitting above a surly mouth.

“Oh. I see. And…?” Namjoon asks, and Yoongi can tell he’s being cautious in probing further. Clearly, Namjoon is putting some of the pieces together in his head. There can only be so many reasons why Yoongi, after discovering his soulmate mark, would be Googling ‘Soulmate Rejection’.

Slowly, Yoongi recounts everything from his encounter with Jungkook a week ago. When he went back to Chuck’s, he confronted him with his knowledge and tattoo. The stinging words fester like an open wound that Yoongi had simply been ignoring for the last week. Better to forget and think it is all a dream than to face reality.

“So, yeah…that’s the jist of it.” Yoongi swallows hard, snatching up one of the many bottles scattered over his desk. The room-temperature water does little to soothe his suddenly parched and aching throat.

Namjoon drums his fingers over his thighs, the muscle along his jaw feathering. He sighs, fingers going still and jaw softening. “Well, that won’t do. He can’t just reject you. Who the fuck rejects their soulmate? Doesn’t he realize this doesn’t happen to just anyone? For fucks sake, this is like finding Willy Wonka’s golden ticket…only a million times more priceless.”

A beat passes before Yoongi responds, “What am I supposed to do? It’s not like I can force him to accept this.” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder at his computer screen. “Maybe it’s best I just put my head down and continue my life as if this never happened. I have plenty of work to keep me occupied.”

Even as he says that, Yoongi knows it’s not possible. He’s been fooling himself for the last week, thinking Jungkook was just some fever dream. The fact is, this is very real, and he can feel it deep in his bones. There is an uncomfortable ache in his muscles, a tightness that sits in the center of his chest. He feels stretched thin, like a part of him is miles away, and the distance makes his skin itch.

“We just have to make him realize Soulmates are real.”

💞💞💞

Jungkook

“How about you help me instead of whatever the hell it is you’re doing on your phone?” Jungkook growls, voice strained by the weight of the three large boxes he’s carrying.

Taehyung chuckles, finishing tapping away on his phone before pocketing it. “I was responding to my agent. I have my first booking next week.” He grabs a box out of the car and follows behind Jungkook.

Jungkook had been avoiding Taehyung for the last week, but the looming date of his move ended that. They had agreed months ago that once Taehyung's lease was up, they would renew together, and Jungkook would move in while he finished out his apprenticeship.

With Taehyung facing a very busy schedule flying all over the world for shoots and his other roommate, Jimin, always on the road with his band, Taehyung really wanted someone to move into his place and keep an eye on his dog and plants so he wouldn’t have to hire someone. Jungkook wasn’t hard-pressed to agree, desperately wanting to get out of the tiny one-bedroom apartment he was renting above the gym where he used to work out.

One of the big perks of moving here, aside from having more space, is the exclusive gym and other amenities. When Jungkook isn’t working at Chuck’s or Electric Fox, he enjoys the mindless nature of working out. He can sling some weights, but by the time he’s done, he’s too exhausted to worry about anything else.

“I’m happy for you, man, but the quicker we can get my shit here, the sooner I can try out that gym before I have to head to The Fox tonight.”

Jungkook covets the apprenticeship. The Electric Fox, often referred to as just ‘The Fox,’ is a pretty prestigious parlor in the area. They don’t let just anyone apprentice in the shop; it’s a grueling process. But Jungkook wouldn’t give it up for anything. He’s always wanted to tattoo, thrives and feeds off the artistic energy of inking lines and shapes into someone’s skin.

An hour later, Jungkook drops the last box and looks around his sparse room. A mattress is pushed into one corner, and an opened gym bag spills clothes across it. Clean sheets are tossed in a pile on the bed, waiting to be stretched across it. Boxes line two walls, and his light desk sits by the window. There’s no personality here…not yet, at least.

“I’m taking lunch to Jimin. They’re doing a quick break before their next recording session. Need anything before I head out?” Taehyung asks, peeking around the corner into Jungkook’s room.

Giving his room one more cursory glance, Jungkook turns to Taehyung and shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good. I am just going to hit the gym and then head to work. I’ll be home late.”

“Okay. Later, JK.” Taehyung disappears, the soft sounds of his socked feet swishing down the hall. A moment later, Jungkook hears the click of the front door closing, and he allows himself a small moment to feel all his raw emotions.

Taehyung isn’t the only thing Jungkook has been avoiding all week. The man who claimed to be his soulmate—Jungkook scoffs as that word spins through his mind—has been by Chuck’s nearly every night. And every time Jungkook got that telltale green tinge coloring the edges of his vision, he made some excuse to disappear until he was sure the coast was clear.

Jocelyn has given him more than an earful about doing that. But, ever since that debacle in his bed the other night, he hasn’t brought himself to speak more than a few words to her, much less explain the whole bullshit situation to her.

Grabbing his gym bag, Jungkook dumps out the rest of the clothes in it. He grabs some jeans, a pair of boxers, and a white graphic t-shirt to change into when he’s done and shoves them into the empty duffle.

He knows he should take some time to unpack a bit, get his clothes sorted, and make up the bed, but those are honestly the last things on his mind right now. What he needs is to submerge himself in sweat, iron, and creating that perfect ache in his muscles.

Changing into some jersey knit shorts and an old t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off, Jungkook heads out the door and meanders his way across the expansive grounds of the condominium.

It’s a beautiful complex. Well-kept flower beds with marble statues dot the walkways and between the varying amenities. The gym is on the other side of the tennis courts and pool. It’s a decent-sized building, and from what Taehyung told him, it houses private showers and even a sauna, which he most definitely plans to put to use today when he finishes his workout.

Jungkook loses himself in the thrum of music in his headphones and the pump of iron in his hands. It feels good to release all of his excess energy, letting his muscles take the punishment for his ridiculous thoughts. Serves him right for barely managing to go a whole day without thinking about that man from the bar.

Soulmates aren’t real—can’t be real. Jungkook hates the idea that his life is somehow planned out for him, that no matter his decisions, they’re not truly his. It takes away the whole concept and idea of free will. The one thing Jungkook has going for him, the ability to make his own choices and be free from the confines of other’s trying to rule over him, is simply a construct of some…thing.

It frustrates him to no end. He’s always been a nonbeliever, for that very fact. For fucks sake, it’s his life. Which is why he denied that man—Yoongi. Jungkook hates that he even asked for his name. It would have been better not to know. Maybe then he wouldn’t be waking up every morning with his fist choking his cock and that name moaning from his lips.

“Fuck!” Jungkook heaves a breath, the barbell slipping from his sweaty hands. It thunks heavily against the soft mat under his feet.

With his next inhale, Jungkook sucks in hot, moist air that has an undercurrent of lavender. The clean, sultry smell lingers, so different from the sterile smell of the gym from just moments before. It’s happening again…and it makes Jungkook’s blood boil.

Jungkook quickly stows the weights, cleaning up his area and giving it a thorough wipe-down. What he really needs right now is a long reprieve in the sauna and then a cold shower.

The inside of the gym is divided: the weights and accompanying machinery are on one side, and all of the cardio equipment is on the other. Access to the locker rooms, showers, and sauna is in the middle.

Something feels off the moment Jungkook walks into the sauna, towel wrapped around his hips. There’s one other person in the sauna. From his angle at the entrance, all Jungkook can see is their side profile, which is mostly obscured by a damp fringe of black hair. But it wouldn’t matter if they wore a mask; Jungkook would know who they were instantly.

“Finally done with your run?” The figure startles, swinging around to face Jungkook fully. “You’re not Namjoon.” Yoongi’s brow furrows. “Um, hi. What…uh, what are you doing here? This place is residents only.”

“Maybe I should ask you that. I just moved here.” Jungkook crosses his arms over his chest and glares at the bane of his current existence.

Yoongi purses his lips, fingers tapping absently against the bench on either side of his towel-clad thighs. Jungkook could swear there was a hint of a smile a moment before Yoongi says, “Out of all the places you could have moved to.”

Jungkook silently curses to himself, trying to decide whether or not he should just turn around and leave or suffer through sitting in this enclosed space with this…man. “Yeah, lucky me,” Jungkook mutters under his breath before flopping down on the bench as far away from Yoongi as he can get.

The sauna falls blissfully into silence. Jungkook rests back on the bench, extending his legs out in front of him and closing his eyes. The heat builds, and he can feel all of his anxiety slowly leaching out with every drop of sweat that slides down his skin.

An indeterminate amount of time passes before Jungkook becomes aware of a soft tinkling sound, like the trickling burble of a water fountain. Slowly, his eyes flutter open, a smile curling his lip as…

…His beautiful lover shifts on the ledge across from him, beads of water glistening on his naked skin—the summer heat shimmers in the air above the bathing pool, making the waters warm and the air humid. The granite lip of the basin is hard under Jungkook’s body, which is exhausted from his long day in the training yard.

His work with the spatha is second to none in the Empire. Many come from far and wide to face him in the amphitheater, but none have walked away victorious. The man luxuriating in the water on the other side of the pool holds all his gratitude. If it weren’t for Yoongi’s love, Jungkook is sure he would have long since perished, his soul left to wander the desolate expanse of this world without its other half.

“I can feel your eyes on my body,” Yoongi says, golden skin stretching as he extends his arms over his head and gives Jungkook a sultry wink. “Drink your fill while you can.”

Jungkook groans, hating the reminder that their time here is limited. He’s due back at the palace before the last of the light disappears from the sky. His chiton is draped over the small alcove entrance to the bathing pool, affording them a semblance of privacy. It helps that these are the royal baths, deep in the belly of the formal gardens, where a battle-hardened gladiator such as himself doesn’t belong.

Yet, one would have to move heaven and earth to see Jungkook separated from his lover—the man looking at him like he hung the stars—the man who owns his heart with every pump of his life’s blood.

“I would rather drink you,” Jungkook murmurs, pushing away from the edge of the pool and wading closer to the princeling, a King in his own rights in Jungkook’s eyes.

Yoongi groans, sweeping a hand down Jungkook’s face. “On your knees, bow before your King and…

💞💞💞

Yoongi

“...sing for me,” Yoongi murmurs sleepily.

He didn’t mean to doze off in the sauna, but Namjoon's intense cardio workout sapped all of his energy. A heavy weight presses over his lap, and he realizes his fingers are sifting through soft, damp strands of hair. Yoongi’s eyes pop open, dropping to the man kneeling on the bench in front of him.

It wasn’t a dream. Yoongi swallows hard, watching as Jungkook nuzzles his nose across the white expanse of the front of Yoongi’s towel. It was a vision from another life…one where—

Hot breath permeating through the thick terrycloth, Jungkook murmurs, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Um, uh—” Yoongi’s sputtering turns into a gasp as Jungkook’s mouth finds the quickly growing length of his cock through the towel.

“You like that, my love?” Jungkook asks. His eyes finally slide open, and he peers up into Yoongi’s. It takes a moment, one filled with Jungkook still mouthing at his towel-covered length, for it to register.

Jungkook tumbles backward, landing heavily on his ass, towel flopping askew to reveal his own straining erection. Yoongi heaves in a breath, his lungs filling with the same warm, steam-filled air as the man now looking at him like a piece of meat he’s about to gobble up.

“Still want to deny this?” Yoongi asks, words soft and thin. “The visions…the tastes…the—” He’s about to say tattoos but is cut off by Jungkook suddenly in his face and slanting his mouth right over Yoongi’s.

“This means nothing,” Jungkook snarls, teeth scraping over Yoongi’s bottom lip. “Just an itch to scratch. That’s. It. Proving a point that you’re only a warm body that can get my dick hard, and that’s all.” Yoongi moans, his protest lost to the sensation of Jungkook plundering his mouth once more. “Maybe I simply need to fuck you out of my system.”

That last part is mumbled so low that Yoongi almost can’t make it out. He tries to claw at his thoughts, gather them enough to deny the hands now snaking beneath his towel to wrench it open, to say no to the hot mouth working its way down his chest to his leaking cock.

But no protest comes; no plea for this to end leaves Yoongi’s mouth. He watches with hooded eyes as Jungkook wraps a tattooed hand around the base of Yoongi’s dick and squeezes. Pearly drops of precum leak from his tip. Jungkook laps them up, tonguing the slit.

“Fuck,” Yoongi groans, head thumping against the wall behind him as he melts under Jungkook’s mouth.

The soft chirp of insects fills the air, adding to the melody of the water swishing and swirling as Jungkook’s body fills the space between Yoongi’s splayed knees. He’s lost to the sensations, savoring every moment. It’s been weeks since Yoongi last was able to get away from his duties as the royal heir, precious weeks he was without the enchanting song of his own personal siren beckoning him into the sea of his soul.

He wishes he could harness the power of Sol and stay the sun where it rests low in the sky. Jungkook engulfs Yoongi in the lush, wet confines of his mouth. Yoongi loves it when Jungkook serenades him, but this comes as a very close second. It feels so divine that he fails to hear the rustling of the tall grass outside of the bathing pool garden.

“Majesty, we must—”

“—check out that new place Jin was…what the fuck!?” The door to the sauna snaps shut behind Namjoon.

The sound, as much as his presence, must break whatever spell seemingly had come over Jungkook because he jumps back. His face is darker than a thundercloud as he heaves angry breaths, staring at Yoongi like this was somehow his fault.

Yoongi quickly gathers his towel and covers his lap, licking his swollen lips. “This, uh, Namjoon…this is—”

“This is nothing,” Jungkook snaps before promptly turning on his heel and storming past Namjoon.

Silence falls after the door swings shut once more. Namjoon eyes Yoongi, clearly waiting for some sort of explanation. “Was that who I think it was?”

“Um…yeah,” Yoongi explains to his friend. “My soulmate who apparently hates me.”

“Explain it to me one more time,” Namjoon asks an hour after they left the gym. He sits on the couch in Yoongi's studio, feet propped on the low table in front of it. A half-empty bourbon glass is forgotten in his hand, too enthralled by what he stumbled across in the sauna.

Yoongi shrugs. “It was a memory, I think. Or, at least, it felt like it was a memory…a weird form of deja vu or something. I swear, it was real—looking just like a scene right out of a period drama, complete with a spring-fed bathing pool and togas, except real life.” Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Yoongi closes his eyes and sighs. “We both must have dozed off in the sauna, and the next thing I know, I’m waking up to Jungkook with his face rubbing my dick. I thought for sure he would stop…but he didn’t. And, well, you know the rest.”

“Mmm,” Namjoon hums softly. “And yet he still denies it, huh? Man, what a jackass.”

The frustration Yoongi is feeling isn’t just the sexual kind right now. However, the fact it took his erection longer than usual to go away was a testament to his patience. He shoves a hand through his hair, tugging on the strands in the process as if it might relieve the ache starting to form in his head.

“Seems that way,” Yoongi sighs. “And, of course, he lives here now, apparently. So, I imagine we’ll be running into each other…unless you want to cancel our future gym sessions?” Yoongi meant it as a joke, and the scowl Namjoon gave him made him laugh out loud. “Kidding! But…seriously, I have a feeling this is only going to get worse. He clearly wants nothing to do with me or our connection.”

“Sure didn’t seem that way with your dick in his mouth,” Namjoon mumbles before adding, “Fairly certain there is some proverb or famous quote out there about fighting destiny. It seems like fate is taking matters into its own hands. How else do you explain that fact he just so happened to move in here so soon after your soulmate tattoos popped up? This is fate knocking on his heart, and I don’t think it’ll take ‘no’ for an answer.”

And that’s the meat of it, Yoongi thinks. Everything that he’s read online indicates that there is no way around this. Soulmate Rejection might have a definition online, but there is a reason why there isn’t much more information than that because: it’s simply not possible to deny it for long. No matter what someone does, Fate is going to find a way.

“I guess.” Yoongi scrubs his hands over his face and then gestures toward his computer. “I got to get back to work on this. I need to have the sample ready tonight so we can get the next recording session set up.”

Namjoon drops his feet to the floor and tosses back the rest of his drink, depositing the empty glass on the table where his feet just were. “Can I listen?”

A bit of the weight resting on Yoongi’s shoulders lifts as his friend expresses interest in something other than the predicament of Jungkook. If it wasn’t for that tender ache in his chest, this might feel like any other day.

“Sure thing.”

💞💞💞

Jungkook

Jungkook has pointedly avoided the gym for the last week, which has frustrated him maybe more than the fact that he can’t stop thinking about the taste of Yoongi on his tongue.

It’s a battle of wills, trying to deny all of this while also growing feral for another chance to lay eyes on the dark-haired mystery that has begun to infiltrate his dreams. He hates to admit it, but every time Jungkook leaves the condo now, his eyes are constantly sweeping the grounds in hopes of catching a glimpse of Yoongi.

Thinking it might help quell his turmoil, Jungkook finally came clean to Taehyung about everything. Taehyung took it in stride and simply told Jungkook not to be a complete idiot and that this was a once-in-a-lifetime—literally, he’d emphasized—opportunity. It hadn’t helped Jungkook in the slightest…if anything, it made him feel worse.

“Fuck,” Jungkook grouses, lifting his foot off the pedal and silencing his machine. “I can’t concentrate.”

“What’s got you so grumpy, bunny?” Jimin asks as he plops down into the empty chair beside Jungkook. He glances at the half-done dragon tattoo etched into the slab of fake skin Jungkook is practicing on. “There’s no way I’m letting you touch me with a needle if you’re in a bad mood.”

Jimin swung by the shop before heading to his next recording session for his upcoming album. The moment Jimin walked in, Jungkook could tell his friend was holding something back. It's something that Jungkook is almost certain he knows exactly what it is.

Jimin has been after Jungkook to join him in the recording studio for years at this point. Ever since Jungkook got a little too drunk one night when he first moved to the city and accidentally revealed to his new group of friends that he’s actually not a bad singer, and it felt nice to lose himself in his old dreams for once—until he woke the following day and the pestering from Jimin began.

The only person Jungkook has talked to about this whole situation is Taehyung, but for a moment, Jungkook considers confiding in Jimin, too—maybe he’d agree with Jungkook. As it is, Jungkook feels terrible for leaving his friend in the dark, but at the same time, Jungkook honestly doesn’t want to talk about it at all because talking about it only seems to compound the feelings he has.

“We can reschedule if you want,” Jungkook offers in place of an explanation.

A soft grunt is all Jungkook gets in response before Jimin tugs his shirt off and turns in the chair to present it to Jungkook. Unable to hold back his smile, Jungkook gets to work setting up his station.

As Jungkook draws to the end of his apprenticeship, his mentor, Ravi, gives him more and more freedom, such as being able to tattoo his friends anytime he wants as long as it doesn’t interfere with his primary shop duties.

Jimin has taken advantage of that more than once, especially before something big happens, such as recording his next album. It’s supposed to be a big one. According to Jimin, it could be the one that completely jump-starts his career to the top of the charts. Apparently his manager was able to book with one of the most coveted and sought-after producers in the country.

The beautiful crescent shape fits nicely over the column of Jimin’s spine. It’s only part of the entire piece, but they agreed only to do a little bit at a time during each session.

“Soo,” Jimin draws out the word, heavy with intention. “Join me at the studio tonight?”

“I don’t know, man, I’ve got a lot of work left to—”

Jimin, slapping a hand over Jungkook’s mouth, cuts off his excuse. “Come on, Jungkook. Just this once, and I’ll never ask again, I promise. Maybe it’ll help you get out of whatever funk this is that you’re in. Just give it a try.”

And that’s how, a few hours later, Jungkook finds himself standing outside another condo in the complex, his heart hammering so hard in his chest that he feels like he might puke.

Jungkook pitches his voice low and asks, “The new producer lives here?”

“Yeah!” replies Jimin. “Super convenient, right?”

As much as Jungkook wants it to be a coincidence, he has a prickly feeling inside his chest that tells him it’s not. He’s about to bail on Jimin when the door swings open. Jungkook’s stomach falls to his feet as his eyes meet those of the man standing on the threshold.

“Jimin?” Yoongi asks flatly.

“Hey, yeah, sorry, I hope you don’t mind. I brought a friend with me. He’s been having a shitty last few weeks, and I thought this would do him some good.” Jimin gestures between Yoongi and Jungkook. “Yoongi, this is J—”

“Jungkook.”

“Oh. Wait, you guys know each other?” Jimin raises his brows, his surprise evident.

“No.”

“Yes.”

Yoongi and Jungkook speak in unison, which only confuses Jimin even more. “No?” he asks, turning bodily toward Jungkook.

Jungkook mentally kicks himself for agreeing to this in the first place. “Well, not really.”

Yoongi grunts in response, drawing Jimin’s attention. Jungkook watches as the confusion on Jimin’s face turns into something more thoughtful and calculating.

“Right…okay. Um, so, do you mind?” Jimin asks Yoongi.

Those narrow shoulders lift in a slight shrug. “Doesn’t bother me, though your friend is looking a little constipated.”

“Emotionally, maybe,” Jimin mutters, quirking a brow at Jungkook before hauling him inside. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew Yoongi?”

Jungkook allows Jimin to drag him along as he follows Yoongi down a barely lit hallway. Getting into this with Jimin is the very last thing Jungkook wants to do. So, he settles for a half-truth right now. “We don’t really know each other. We crossed paths at Chuck’s a few weeks back.”

“Uh huh, okay. Whatever you say, Koo. I can tell you’re holding something back, and that might hurt my feelings if I wasn’t about to get my way by getting you in a recording booth.”

Suppressing a wince at the prospect of what lay ahead, Jungkook swallows down a bit of his pride. This is obviously punishment for being an asshole, and he knows he deserves every ounce of it.

The hallway leads from the front door to what Jungkook assumes is the living area, similar to the layout of the condo he lives in with Taehyung and Jimin, but Yoongi disappears through one of the doors before the end of the hall.

By the time Jungkook is following Jimin inside the room, Yoongi is already seated before an expansive display. There are numerous computer monitors and channel mixers. Speakers frame the whole setup and line the wall above the giant plexiglass window just on the other side of the ample desk space.

The walls are all covered in soundproofing foam squares, and the door leading to the partitioned room is thick. Padding is secured along the frame to cover the small gaps between the door and the jamb.

Overall, it looks incredibly professional for a studio set up in someone’s home. Someone who just so happens to be the one person Jungkook has been trying to avoid. All he needs to do is pacify Jimin, sing a song or two, and get the fuck out of here.

Yoongi offers them drinks from a small fridge in the corner. Jungkook takes a bottle of water, if only to have something to do with his hands. Jimin accepts a cold brew coffee, and Yoongi takes one as well.

Jungkook fiddles with the water bottle, eventually opening it and taking a swig. The roasted bitter notes of coffee coat his tongue instead of the crisp mineral flavor of water. He swallows thickly, hating the way his eyes suddenly seek out Yoongi, searching for some sort of confirmation—not that he’s experiencing the same, but the opposite flavors. Jungkook hoped he wouldn’t find a reaction there, but, of course, fate mocked him once again as Yoongi looked curiously down at his cold brew and then flicked his eyes in Jungkook’s direction, the evidence in his stare clear.

Oblivious to what’s passing between Jungkook and Yoongi, Jimin perches on the lip of the leather couch on the back wall and pats the empty space beside him. There is a giant shit-eating grin on Jimin’s face as Jungkook reluctantly drops onto the other end of the couch and sets his re-capped bottle of water on the floor beside his feet.

“We have a few hours. Did you have a chance to listen to the sample I sent you?” Yoongi asks Jimin, clearly not going to bring up what just happened. That should be precisely what Jungkook wants, but for some reason, the fact that Yoongi is pointedly avoiding his eye now irritates him.

There is an enigmatic aloofness about Yoongi. Jungkook watches as Yoongi’s hands flex where they’re lazily cupped around his bottled coffee in his lap. The loose-legged jeans and baggy black t-shirt he’s wearing might seem shapeless, but Jungkook’s fingers itch with the phantom memory of the body underneath.

Memory? That’s undoubtedly how it felt…feels? His fingers twitch of their own accord. Jungkook shakes his head at the fucked up absurdity of it.

It’s a blessing as much as it is a curse as Jimin and Yoongi engage in a lengthy exchange about the sample Yoongi sent him. Jungkook allows himself to get lost in his own thoughts, letting everything else fade to a buzz in his ears.

Jungkook can’t seem to keep his eyes off Yoongi. Especially when he exchanges his coffee for an acoustic guitar and begins to strum a chorded melody that Jimin bobs his head along to. Yoongi’s fingers pluck at the strings, and suddenly, the sound is as familiar as the soft inhale and exhale of Jungkook’s own breath.

Strong, deft fingers move along the six coarse strings lining the neck of the wooden lute. They pluck out a hauntingly beautiful rhythm, one full of longing, hope, and passion.

“It is quite beautiful,” Jungkook says once the song comes to a close.

“Fittingly so. A beautiful song for an achingly beautiful man,” his lover murmurs in response.

The small drawing room is intimate, boasting only a few low-lying pieces of furniture that were covered with dust sheets just hours earlier. Jungkook sent word the second he slid off the back of his sweat-lathered horse, having ridden hard for hours in an effort to reach home—to get the man he loves with every fiber of his soul.

Jungkook tugs at the linen collar of his undershirt, the dusty travel doublet he wore over it long since discarded. The room is warm and a bit stuffy after being shut up for the several months Jungkook was away on duty. But, the man lounging across from him, lute held across his lap, is all the freshness Jungkook needs.

“It is unbecoming of a Lord to jest so,” Jungkook teases, knowing it’ll earn him a bit of heated, albeit delicious, retaliation later.

Yoongi sets aside the lute, dark eyes full of coy mirth trained on Jungkook. “Do I look a minstrel to you?”

“No.”

The sudden outburst startles Jimin and Yoongi, the pair falling into silence as they both look at Jungkook like he’s lost his mind. Perhaps he has. Jungkook swallows hard and rubs a hand over his face, his eyes landing once more on Yoongi when his hand falls back to his lap.

“No, what?” Jimin asks. “You don’t like the song?”

“Huh? I didn’t…I mean, what did you ask?” Jungkook stammers out, trying to sift through what’s reality and what’s…he’s not even sure at this point. Are they memories? Daydreams? Flashbacks of past lives?

“Yoongi asked how you liked the song.” Jimin glowers at Jungkook, arms crossed over his chest. Clearly annoyed by Jungkook’s lapse in attention. “Were you too busy drooling over Yoongi’s hands to listen? I saw you staring.”

Jungkook frowns, casting a furtive glance at Jimin before turning his attention to Yoongi. “It’s a fine song, I guess.”

“I have some lyrics written up if you’d like to give it a try,” Yoongi explains, voice slow and deliberate in a teasing way. One of his dark brows quirks up, mirth, not unlike the coyness he saw moments ago, twinkling in his eyes.

He’s clearly enjoying Jungkook’s distress. For a moment, Jungkook wonders if Yoongi, too, witnessed the vision. By the subtle tilt of his mouth, though, Jungkook believes he has his answer.

Shrugging and trying to seem as nonchalant as Yoongi, Jungkook says, “Sure. Whatever. Let’s just do this.”

Yoongi pushes up from his chair and nods toward the door leading to the recording booth. “I’ll help you get set up.”

With one last look at Jimin, who now has that shit-eating grin back on his face, Jungkook gathers the tattered remains of his resistance and follows. His thoughts mirror the same ones he had the night Yoongi came to confront him. He can deny it, he can fight it…but there is no point—not anymore. He’s only torturing himself at this point.

But how is he supposed to cast off a life’s worth of doubt and belief to chase a whimsical delusion? Only it’s not a delusion, is it? Jungkook supposes that should be the first step: stop thinking of this as something from a fantasy novel and more like very much his reality.

“Hey, uh—” Jungkook starts to say but cuts himself off when the door to the sound booth closes behind him. Yoongi turns to the side and begins to adjust the height of the recording mic. His eyes cut Jungkook’s way expectantly, and Jungkook needs to swallow around the knot in his throat before pressing on. “I just wanted to say that I am sorry.”

“For?” Yoongi probes as his fingers continue to work, twisting and turning various knobs on the mic stand.

Jungkook’s first instinct is to respond with acid, some cutting one-liner to express his annoyance, but it dies on his tongue as Yoongi finishes with the mic and turns to give Jungkook his full attention.

At this moment, sequestered in the quiet space of the recording booth, the connection to Yoongi hits Jungkook so hard that his knees become weak. He has to steady himself with a hand against the padded wall to keep from turning into a puddle on the floor.

“Just forget it,” Jungkook grumbles, shoving off from the wall and shaking his head. “What do I need to do?” He flicks a hand in the air toward the mic. “Where are the lyrics?”

Yoongi narrows his eyes but doesn’t say anything else; he just pulls his phone out of his pocket and wakes the screen up. A moment later, he’s handing it over to Jungkook with a text document opened.

Moving to the other side of the mic stand, Yoongi taps on the plexiglass window to get Jimin’s attention. He nods toward the switchboard panel and holds up two fingers. A second later, music filters through the sound booth.

“Give yourself a minute to get familiar with the beat. Choose whatever flow comes naturally to you. When you’re ready, pop on the headphones, and we’ll give it a shot.” Yoongi delivers his instructions in an emotionless monotone, which knots Jungkook’s insides. He mentally kicks himself for continuing to be an asshole. He wants to backtrack a few minutes and apologize once again, but he’s at a complete loss for words right now.

So, instead of blundering further, he focuses his attention on the phone screen and lets the melody coming through the speakers wash over him. It’s a stunning piece of music, even in its raw and unfinished form. The lyrics are emotional, speaking of an unobtainable love and the struggle of not losing who you are through it.

Before he even realizes what he’s doing, Jungkook has the headphones on and begins to test his vocals, trying not to focus too hard on the fact that instead of leaving the booth and controlling everything from the other side, Yoongi is choosing to stay here.

It’s been a few years since Jungkook sang with any real heart. Though it has always been his secret passion, it’s a dream he never pursued because he always felt like something was missing for him, which is why he has found himself pursuing other forms of art instead.

But here, in this tiny space with a devastatingly handsome man watching on, Jungkook finds himself at peace with the natural fluidity of stringing together words with a flowing melody and, so, he lets go and sings.

💞💞💞

Yoongi

“A minstrel? Perhaps not. But most assuredly, a man that is as pleasing to listen to as he is to look upon, no matter your muse.”

Yoongi basks in the praise, lapping it up like the smooth malt of a fine ale. “Says the man with a voice to rival the compositions of Byrd. Serenade me, my love, let me hear you, for it has been far too long since I heard your song.”

With every blink of Yoongi’s eyes, his vision flickers between this moment and the other. Jungkook croons the words, flowing easily from one line of lyric to the next. If Yoongi hadn’t just written the song lyrics this morning, he’d almost believe Jungkook had heard it before. Though perhaps he has, Yoongi thinks as the scene flickers again, merging this life with another.

The pieces fit together even more perfectly than before. Yoongi knows who Jungkook is to him; he has already accepted the idea of a soulmate. Now, however, it’s seemingly more than that all at once. He’s not just some predestined lover tied to Yoongi by fate.

No, he is so much more than that. This is so much more than that.

It’s an inevitable meeting of burning hearts that’s been a thousand years in the making. Lifetime after lifetime, providence in flesh and soul. Stars that are forever pulled into the same orbit again and again.

As Yoongi listens to Jungkook sing, he hears the same voice repeated over a multitude of lifetimes—the ballad of their everlasting souls coming together once more. His vision tints green, and with every breath he takes, his chest grows tight with emotion.

Jungkook’s eyes meet Yoongi’s over the top edge of the phone, so full of acceptance that was not evident there before but now shines as bright as the sun. The song trails off, taking with it the last lilting note of Jungkook’s enrapturing tenor. Silence falls in the small space, making room for a thousand unspoken words—a thousand lifetimes of love shared between ever-connected souls.

“Yoongi.” His name a fervent whisper falling from Jungkook’s mouth.

“Still want to deny this?” Yoongi asks in a voice just as soft.

The laugh that slips from Jungkook is pained, a sad sound that holds no humor at all. “I…I can’t. Not anymore. I’m sorry I ever did. Sorry I’ve been such an asshole. I think—I’m not sure what I think, honestly. It’s kind of scary, though, you know?”

“Scary?” Yoongi asks, curious about what is so frightening about this beautiful revelation.

“Do you not find the fact that your whole life isn’t your own a little scary? Or at least doesn’t piss you off to know that you have no free will in this world? What’s the point if all the decisions we make are predestined?” Jungkook slides the headphones off and hooks them around the neck of the mic stand. “I just want my life to mean something, and now it’s…is it even my life anymore?”

It dawns on Yoongi now that Jungkook, despite being a raging jackass sometimes, has a valid point. To an extent, at least. That’s not something that Yoongi has actually thought about or considered a problem. Whether his life is of his own choices or some form of Fate pulling strings, it’s still his life…and he thinks it’s worth living to its highest potential no matter the how.

“Do you want it to be your life?” Yoongi asks hesitantly.

When Jungkook swallows, the chords of his throat contract and Yoongi suddenly urges him to reach out and soothe his fingers down the rigid muscles. Instead, he finds himself cupping a hand along Jungkook's jaw, his thumb brushing over the smooth skin of his cheek.

“If I say yes, how do I know it’s really me saying yes and not just some predetermined script in my head?” Jungkook leans into Yoongi’s touch, clearly seeking some sort of comfort, which Yoongi is eager to provide.

Yoongi thinks for a moment and decides it would be a disservice to try and sugar-coat it or lie. “I suppose you don’t. But, I think that’s okay…as long as it feels good, feels right. Does it feel right to you? Here, does it feel right in here?” he asks, pressing his other hand to the center of Jungkook’s chest.

The deep inhale of breath Jungkook takes expands his chest under Yoongi’s hand, and as he exhales, he can feel the frantic thump of Jungkook’s heart as it beats a staccato rhythm which Yoongi knows is echoed in his own chest.

A glossy shine forms in Jungkook's eyes, and he cracks a smile that immediately lifts tremendous weight from Yoongi’s shoulders. Jungkook laughs—this time, it’s more giddy than caustic.

“It does feel right. It feels good, so good,” he confirms with a slight nod. “I won’t lie and say I know what any of these means…but I think I’m willing to find out. If you’ll forgive me for being a prick.”

“I think this is a great start,” Yoongi says, mirroring Jungkook’s smile.

“Umm, does someone want to explain what’s happening in there?” Jimin’s voice coming through the speakers breaks through the tender moment, making both Jungkook and Yoongi laugh.

It feels good that Jungkook doesn’t pull away with the interruption from Jimin. Much to Yoongi’s delighted surprise, Jungkook actually steps closer and slides an arm around Yoongi’s back.

Yoongi reaches over and clicks the communication button inside the booth. “You want to be the one to tell him?” he asks Jungkook.

“Soulmates, Jimin. That’s what’s going on,” Jungkook explains before sliding the fingers of his other hand into Yoongi’s hair and using it as an anchor.

A small startled gasp escapes Yoongi before it’s swallowed by Jungkook, his mouth slotting over Yoongi’s. They have kissed one time before, in the sauna. But that was all savagery and pain. This kiss, though…this is the culmination of weeks of fears, longing, and, ultimately, acceptance. It tastes sweeter than anything Yoongi’s ever had grace his lips.

It’s a startling moment, feeling the entire world shift beneath his feet. There are theories about soulmates and what it means when your soul finds its like. But everything Yoongi read doesn’t even begin to hold a flame to this conflagration burning hot in his veins.

Jungkook is a song forever branded on Yoongi’s being, etched right into the very marrow of his bones. No matter when or where; he will always know.

“A thousand lifetimes, and it’s always you,” Jungkook murmurs, reflecting the very thought growing in Yoongi’s mind. “Always you.”

6 Months Later

Jungkook stretches his arms over his head, his lean body pulling tight. He covers a yawn with the back of his hand and jumps when a set of arms wraps around him from behind.

“Have I told you how good you look without a shirt on?” Yoongi asks, nuzzling into the bare skin between Jungkook’s shoulder blades.

His back is slick with perspiration, but Yoongi doesn’t mind. He loves the faint kiss of salt he can taste on his lips when he smiles against Jungkook’s warm skin.

“Maybe once or twice.”

Yoongi chuckles, voice dropping low, “Mmm, shame on me, then.”

The last six months have been filled with an endless exchange of compliments and passionate exploring. No matter how much time they spend together, it never seems to be enough to satiate one or the other.

Yoongi has had Jungkook in his recording booth more times than he can count. The pure magic that comes out of that man has never failed to awe him. Jungkook’s talent is beyond immeasurable. He finished his apprenticeship at Electric Fox and has since started doing private sessions in his spare time out of the studio that Yoongi turned the other spare bedroom into for him.

They don’t live together—yet—as there is still some time left on the lease Jungkook signed with Taehyung and Jimin. But, as soon as it’s up in a few months, Jungkook wants nothing more than to move in. As it is, he spends nearly every waking moment—and let’s be honest, every sleeping one, too—with Yoongi.

“Are you done with work or just taking a break?” Jungkook asks before turning to face Yoongi.

Yoongi shrugs. “I’m done enough. Just wanted to see how things were coming along out here.”

Jungkook has spent the majority of his morning assembling a new set of bookcases in Yoongi’s living room.

“Just about done.”

They both survey the progress, and Yoongi pats Jungkook on the ass affectionately. “You’re so good to me. Thank you for putting these together. I swear they would still sit in the closet if it weren’t for you.”

“Shouldn’t take me too much longer. I’m going to grab a shower when I finish. Join me?”

Yoongi’s face lights up with mischief. “Finish tomorrow,” he fake pouts, dramatically pushing his bottom lip out.

“How can I say no to that?” Jungkook laughs, nipping at the extended lip. The bite melts into a kiss that deepens by the second until they’re both left breathless as they fumble down the hall. Deft fingers make quick work of clothes, leaving a trail that leads from the living room to the bathroom.

The water is cold, Jungkook not paying enough attention to the knobs when he turns them. But with the heat they’re creating, neither seems to notice or care.

“You feel so good,” Yoongi groans, pressing himself firmly against Jungkook’s front. Their rigid cocks slide against one another, drawing twin moans from their throats.

Jungkook smirks, nipping at Yoongi’s bottom lip before spinning him around and pressing him against the shower wall and then lowering to kneel on the tiled floor of the shower. “Not as good as this will feel.”

It’s a sight Jungkook revels in, Yoongi towering over him with his chest heaving and eyes hooded with desire. Typically, Jungkook is more the dominant one, but there is something about being on his knees in front of Yoongi that makes him feel so powerful.

Perhaps it’s the way he can make Yoongi gasp and moan with the featherlight kisses he presses to the thick shaft of Yoongi’s cock. Or the way he makes Yoongi pant his name when he uses his other hand to cup the heavy sack beneath it.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” Yoongi sighs. His head tips back, and one of his hands catches at the back of Jungkook’s head, encouraging him to stop teasing and give them both what they want.

Yoongi’s body trembles with anticipation as Jungkook continues to brush his lips along his erection, all the way from root to tip and back again. Finally, with a soft groan, Jungkook lets the tip of Yoongi’s cock slide between his lips.

The flavor of his lover bursts on his tongue, salty-sweet mixed with the neutrality of the water pelting down from above. It helps slick the way for Jungkook’s mouth. His lips grow warm as they pass up and down with each bob of his head.

Jungkook has spent the last six months becoming intimately familiar with Yoongi’s body. He is delighted in figuring out every little thing that makes his lover tick. Knowing just what Yoongi needs right now, Jungkook hollows his cheeks as he pulls back until the head of Yoongi’s cock pops from between his lips.

“Suck,” Jungkook commands, holding his fingers up to Yoongi’s lips. A soft rumble starts in Jungkook’s chest as he watches Yoongi slowly part his lips and take his middle and index fingers into his mouth. The warmth of Yoongi’s tongue rubs over the undersides of Jungkook’s fingers and then works between them, thoroughly coating them. “Good. Good, so good, Yoongi.”

Saliva strings from the tip of Yoongi’s tongue to the pads of Jungkook’s fingers as he withdraws them. It snaps, the strand getting lost among the cascade of droplets clinging to Yoongi’s skin.

Jungkook brings his hand down and between Yoongi’s thighs. Yoongi's chest swells with a deep breath as Jungkook rubs his slippery fingers over the puckered rim of Yoongi’s ass.

“Koo,” Yoongi moans, toes curling and eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck. Suck me. Make me fill your throat with my cum.”

“Say please,” Jungkook coos, working the tip of his index finger slowly inside the warm clasp of Yoongi’s body.

Yoongi fists a hand into Jungkook's hair and wraps his hand around the base of his cock with the other. “Now.”

Delicious shivers run down Jungkook’s spine from the flash of dominance in Yoongi. “Someone’s bossy today.” The teasing does exactly what Jungkook was hoping for.

“Please, Koo. Please suck me and make me feel goo—fuck!” Yoongi’s words turn into a guttural curse as Jungkook takes him all the way into the back of his throat at the same time, he seats his fingers in his ass completely.

It’s like the first time, lifetimes ago, all over again. This isn’t just the coming together of physical bodies seeking moments of pleasure; it’s a kindling of souls ripe with lasting devotion that sees no wear from the passage of time.

“I love you,” Jungkook mumbles around the head of Yoongi’s cock before taking him in once more.

He works his finger in tandem with his mouth and tongue until Yoongi grunts and loses himself to the pleasure. “I love you,” Yoongi rumbles, the low tone hooking on a moan as his release ribbons across Jungkook’s tongue and down his throat.

The kiss they share when Jungkook stands is sweet, a soft contrast to the heated release from seconds before.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to express how much you mean to me and how truly sorry I am for ever denying this. I don’t deserve you,” Jungkook says. He rests his forehead against Yoongi’s, their breaths mingling. “I was such a fool.” “My fool,” Yoongi whispers in coy jest. “Now, sing for me while I reward myself for proving you wrong all those months ago and add another tantalizing memory for our future selves to enjoy.”

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#yoonkook #yoongi x jungkook #yoonkook smut #yoonkook angst #yoonkook soulmates #yoonkook imagines #yoonkook fanfic #bangtanwhq

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