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cherryjuiceblues · 3 months

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𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 | 𝟓.𝟐

➯ HARRY LETS HIS FRUSTRATION GET THE BETTER OF HIM AND SOME TIME AWAY FROM Y/N HAS HIM TURNING UP AT HER DOOR TO FINALLY TELL HER HOW HE FEELS. ✰ dom!harry resolved angst. shouting. sexual content. BDSM influenced punishment. dominant and submissive dynamics. slight anal play. minors dni. 𝑤𝑐 10.7k ッ mutually beneficial masterlist

The house doesn’t smell like curry.

And that’s the first thing he notices when he steps inside after a long day. Harry always makes a point to relish in the view of his home before he enters its threshold; warm and bathed in light—the clear signs of life pouring out of the windows and across the driveway. Y/N cradles his heart in more ways than she shall ever know but simply remembering that she is here, in his home, keeping it safe whilst he’s gone… It does irrevocable things to him.

But today, fretful from the stresses of the night before, perhaps he’ll admit that it does less to soothe his weary head as it does most days. When the only thing getting him through the workday was the promise of a beloved meal, prepared with love, steaming—waiting for him when he got home—and the scent doesn’t immediately hit him in the face… he worries. He worries for his sanity and for Y/N’s wellbeing. He worries for the words he might say on an impatient, empty stomach.

The tension between Harry’s brows radiates throughout his entire skull as he rolls out his shoulders and prepares himself for the conversation he’s going to have to have in approximately ten seconds. He can hear Y/N tottering around in the kitchen—and that almost makes it worse—that she’s in there and yet he can smell… he can smell something sweet. Something—

His feet lead him to the scent, hoping his nose is mistaken, forehead tightening at the sight he is greeted with.

“What’s this?” His cadence is concerning—unclad with his usual charming lilt—swathed in this new, murky tone of impatience. “Where’s m’dinner, sweetheart?”

Y/N twists around from her place at the sink, lips turned downwards unlike her usual welcome of a happy, relieved smile. And her reaction, Harry will later accept, is a valid one considering his complete lack of greeting—when he is usually so full of soft lilts and gentle caresses.

“Oh—hello to you too,” she scoffs, words tumbling out uncharacteristically, “‘m I your housewife, now?” And—regardless of whether Y/N had already been labelled as such by Harry’s own employees, she has a feeling his eyes would’ve darkened all the same. His immediate, deathly silence does more to terrorise her than any garish attempt at horror (although that successfully scares her too).

She’s wondered what it would take for him to have his moment. Harry’s patience has always been such a relief—the most gentle person in Y/N’s life—a trait previously severely lacking and one she now cherishes every day.

And she knows his reaction isn’t unjust. She should have made him dinner, ready to eat as soon as he stepped foot inside—just like she had promised earlier in the day. With a smile on her face. She can’t quite explain why she made a cake instead. She’d had every intention to do as she’d said, was on her way to the kitchen to get started, in fact. But then she’d opened her phone, scrolled through Pinterest for just long enough to become distracted, to forget her initial quest, and to become enamoured by a heart-shaped sponge cake instead.

Y/N understands Harry’s anger. But it’s still upsetting. She feels as though she has committed something worthy of jail time. Her stomach churns, previously dancing butterflies dispersing with a single brandishing glance over her way. They’re replaced by heavy, heavy bricks—weighing her down, immobilising her completely as she watches Harry inspect the kitchen with beady eyes.

“You made a cake?” He asks, already knowing of the answer; the evidence stares him straight in the face—accompanied by the debris—a crime scene of flour and icing sugar, bowls upon bowls filled with remnants of batter. She opens her mouth, abandoned by sound, swiftly closed when Harry continues on his own; unneeding of Y/N to have a conversation.

“Does it taste like fucking Korma, darlin’?” And she doesn’t like it—the way he weaponises the word she associates so closely to her own identity—the one he uses more than her own name. He’s upset. And it’s her fault.

“It—”

“—Don’t. Just—” he sighs, swiping his heavy palm over his forehead, “—be quiet.”

It slaps her across the face—his unwavering displeasure. She feels the heat rising, uncomfortable in her face, the stinging of her eyes uncontrollable. Harry walks around the island, sighing at the sight of his sink. She was going to clean it, she was. But that doesn’t matter now.

Y/N stands awkwardly near the doorway, stuck in place. He’s muttering, hands busying automatically, clattering indelicately—every bang and crash deafening in Y/N’s nervous state. “Cake,” he laughs flatly, “she makes fucking cake.”

She’d made it with good intentions, she swears. Everything she does is for Harry one way or another. But even Y/N can admit her timing had been astronomically off with this one. A tear trembles its way over her waterline, Harry chiding her; talking about her as if she isn’t there at all, wounding in a way that makes her feel small unlike every other time before. She swipes it away quickly but the evidence remains—a sad, salty trail.

“Leaves her mess—” a spoon is dropped unceremoniously, “everywhere,” throwing utensils into the top rack of the dishwasher with a lack of finesse. “Promises me dinner and then has the… the cheek to play the feminism card. Like it’s some… sort of punishment that I dole out.”

And then he spins around, wielding a whisk in a way that usually should diminish someone’s threat but only emphasises his anger. His eyes harden at the sight of her wet face, and he softens his words none. “You know I don’t think of you as some— some tool, some object for my own desires,” he puts the whisk into the dishwasher, before addressing her again, “but when you promise someone something, you fucking deliver, do you understand me?”

Y/N nods jerkily, more tears brimming. “I’m sorry,” she all but wails. The guilt fills her ears with a thickness—one that throws her off balance.

“Yes, I’m sure you are.” She’s rendered him resigned; her dominant usually so bright and uplifting, now expelling sigh upon sigh at the mere existence of her.

“I don’t want to look at your sad little face, turn around.” Y/N lags, feet glitching over the tiles. “Face the wall—yep,” he nods at her stunned expression, indicating that he is indeed serious, “go on.”

But surely not. “Let me—” her arms reach out in front of her, asking to help. Begging to help—to clean up her own mess and let Harry sit down.

Harry shuts her down, shaking his head tersely, coming forward to turn her himself. “—In the corner…just do something good. Wipe your face—” She lets herself be manhandled, shoulders quivering silently. He nudges her knees with his own, positioning her just right—in the corner like a naughty child. “—Don’t need to see you crying.”

He’s right; he doesn’t. She fucked up, Harry deserves to be the upset one. But instead Y/N’s weeping like some sort of inadvertent guilt trip.

Without her vision, everything he does is that much louder—his mutterings now comparable to full-blown rantings. “Who needs—three fucking bowls? This isn’t masterchef, darling. You don’t need three bowls to make a cake, you don’t.” Every sound makes her body tighten up.

Y/N sniffles, “I’m sorry,” forehead drooping to rest weakly against the wall.

Harry doesn’t seem to hear her sad whimper, grumbling away to himself. But as he turns and starts wiping the island counter, he scolds her again. “Stand up straight, we’re not relaxing,” as she forces her head back up sadly, twisting her neck to apologise once more. He’s moved back to the sink, knocking the tap with his knuckle to start soaking a large, ceramic bowl. “—And quit lookin’ at me over your shoulder.”

She slinks back around, shame heating her cheeks. Her posture wilts like a sorry flower. But she can’t help but worry as he’s soaking the bowls—a remembrance of the frosting she’d made, ready to spread on her heart-shaped creation after it had cooled. She checks back over her shoulder just as he’s standing on the pedal of the bin, lid swinging up.

“No!” she cries, scrambling over to rescue the bowl from Harry’s evil clutches. He sighs, eyes roving over her doleful, wet face, but he lets her hold it.

“Why—are you crying?” He asks with such indignation. “Do you need a reason, hm? Because we can find you one,” he swipes under her eyes carelessly, murmuring something about how he ought to never make her come again. “Ridiculous,” muttering to himself as Y/N stands woefully before him—frame so much smaller than it should be. “Go upstairs. Take your—” he turns her by her shoulders, “—bowl and go upstairs. Be useful and cry elsewhere… whilst I make us dinner.”

Y/N wonders, as she sadly shuffles her feet along the floor and up the stairs, if this is the Harry his previous partners were privy to. If this is how his dominance presented—cold, harsh, and unforgiving. She can’t deny the curiosity; that if the circumstances were different that she wouldn’t be aroused at the expense of her fear. Not that she’s scared of him—she’s not. He’s not that kind of angry. But this is unexpected, and it’s unsettling. She can’t decipher the true intentions behind his words; if they’re fuelled by frustration, hunger, exhaustion… or if they’re disguised by such factors in order to portray his true feelings. Was he… irreversibly upset with her? Was he disgusted by her? Repulsed? Turned off?

She sits on the edge of his bed—the bowl is cold against her palms, heavy and sorrowful, and surely much saltier than she’d originally intended—tears dripping off her chin and into the frosting below.

She cries because she’s embarrassed, she cries because she’s failed; she’s a disappointment and a right headache. It’s why she just sits there, doing as he’d told her—to cry elsewhere. Whether or not she’s waiting for Harry, Y/N doesn’t know. Her brain sits in thick sludge inside of her skull.

Time evades her in moments like these. Her eyes gloss over, focused on one blurring point, her thoughts form with immense struggle—like someone wading through mud, picking up one foot with force, weighed down by the imprisoning filth, allowed freedom for a fraction of a second before it is submerged once more.

She sits and she stares at nothing in particular, blinking only to displace the tears that obscure her already fuzzy vision. And when Harry appears in the doorframe, it takes a lagging second or two before recognition, before her face twists slightly and a wet garbling sound dribbles its way out of her downturned mouth.

He sighs, anger replaced with exhaustion now… or simply pushed aside until another time. Harry walks towards her, movements slow; cautious like that of a person desperate to keep a placated baby sweet.

“Don’t cry, come on,” he thumbs a tear from her dewy cheek, “don’t need to cry.” His voice is softer now, Y/N is grateful. Although his caressing cadence is enough to make her emotional on most days. So it does little to cease the rapid beating of her heart or the little diamond droplets in her waterline.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” she sniffles, pushing her face into the pressure of Harry’s thumb despite feeling unworthy of it.

“Okay.” It’s a murmur, removed of emotion, as he’s smoothing his fingers around to the back of her neck, holding firmly—keeping her upright to allow her heavy head some respite—whilst he stands tall at the foot of the bed, gargantuan in size compared to Y/N’s sad form.

“Listen to me,” the digits curl slightly, angling her head up, up. She’s forced to ruminate over the tension in Harry’s brows and the evidence of his hands running through his hair with irritation, strands coiling wildly. But she nods against the strain, trying so hard to be better.

“You have two options.” He doesn’t sound angry anymore. Y/N almost wishes he did. The complete lack of inflection leaves her with nothing to lean on. “You can be a good girl for the rest of the night, just like I know you’re so capable of—” he pauses to let the words settle, and maybe to hear the echo of the slight spite in his accusation.

Y/N doesn’t think she needs to hear option two, and when Harry does say it, it makes her sad all over again.

“—or you can go to the spare room.”

Her lip twitches; she clenches her eyes shut to force the tears back down and shakes her head in silence.

Harry strokes his thumb against the back of her scalp. “We will talk about this. Tomorrow, we will. But for now, I want easy, okay? Will you be good?”

I am good! Is what she wants to say. She wants to say that she never meant to be bad, she never meant to upset him. She wants to take the last few hours of her life back completely and do it all over again.

The weight of the bowl in her hands is a reminder. She puts it down on the mattress beside her, curling her knees underneath her bum to push her height up. To reach Harry’s chest and clench her fingers into the material of his shirt, jacket long since removed in the heat of his frustration.

“I’llbegood,” Harry feels the vibration of her words and hears the muffled promise as Y/N smears sad kisses over his cotton covered heart. He lets her—eyes losing the fight against his lids as they fall shut, sighing as he worries about taking this all too far.

But the wheels are in motion, and the emotions are high. If Y/N can’t follow through on a promise, then Harry must follow through with a punishment. Or a scolding. Or whatever it is that they’re doing right now—which seems to be neither. He just wants to sleep, and hold her warm body, and forget about his day.

He brings his hand up to smooth over the top of her head, closed eyes allowing him one last moment of reprieve. Y/N’s tears soak through his shirt, wetting his skin underneath. No doubt he’ll find dampened patches littered across the material, soon to dry but the memory will never fade. Of having his love kiss through her tears, to beg in her sadness for forgiveness by applying her own homemade bandaids.

Harry needs a distraction.

His gaze lands on the forgotten bowl when he opens his eyes, gently pushing Y/N back onto her bum when he decides what to do.

“You didn’t eat your frosting, baby?”

And now he’s confusing her… because now he sounds almost playful—and Y/N doesn’t know the correct answer to give—the right words in the right order to be rewarded with the right reaction.

“I didn’t—know if you wanted me to, Sir,” she swallows around some of the words, snotty nose all stuffy and suffocating her vocal chords.

“I’d like you to now.” Harry sees his hands on her face as he says it, white frosting painting her like something else they’re familiar with—his fingers spanning the entirety of her features, smearing the mess around like she’s his own personal canvas.

He leans down, just enough to dip his fingers inside the bowl, coating his digits, and then he stretches back out to his full height with purpose, sinewy forearm veiny as it is pulled towards Y/N’s mouth by an eager hand.

She sits still—statuesque—with her eyes roving up Harry’s rolled sleeve and all the way to the straight line of his mouth. Y/N can’t help but wish she could know exactly what he was thinking as he daubs the pads of his middle and ring finger against the seal of her mouth, displacing the substance from his fingers to her lips, before teasing his way inside to hook her bottom teeth down and unlatch her jaw.

He just… stares for a moment, holding her mouth open and watching as saliva pools beneath her tongue and kisses his fingertips. And then he pats her cheek with his other hand, a soft tap as Y/N’s lashes barely flutter from the weight of his palm. She drools a little when Harry drops her jaw, shame lingering somewhere but not quite reaching the forefront of her mind. It occurs to her to close her mouth, but it seems her dominant isn’t quite finished—bringing a newly dipped hand back up to her face. He’s all but dipped it entirely into the bowl, cold against Y/N’s face when he smudges his handprint over the left side of her face with a quirk of his lips.

“Sweet and salty, huh?” his eyes darken, the pad of his thumb smearing the frosting so indelicately adorning her face. The sugary paste intersects with a drying tear trail streaking down her cheek and Harry can’t help the way his saliva pools under his tongue, blocky front teeth pushing two lines into his bottom lip.

She looks so pretty.

Y/N watches the way the flesh holds a slight indentation when her dominant closes his mouth once again. The quickstep of her heart dances with exhilaration now—body frozen in anticipation as Harry’s looming stature shrinks her. Her eyes are wide, and the only things she dares to move, flitting around Harry’s face as he manhandles hers.

He squeezes her cheeks together, shaking her head from side to side before dipping his thumb into her open mouth and spreading it across her tongue. Vanilla blossoms on her taste buds, and a quiet hum rumbles at the back of Y/N’s throat.

“S’that nice?” Harry all but coos. “All your hard work? Does it taste good?” He’s teasing, she knows—but that’s never mattered with Harry. Y/N will always answer him sincerely.

She hums around his thumb, “Mhm,” tongue flicking against his soft pad. If Y/N could eat everything off of Harry’s fingers, she would. Hand fed for life, lips cushioning his long digits as they stroke her tongue and caress the insides of her cheeks.

“Let me see,” Harry murmurs, keeping her head still as he bends down, tongue unfolding from behind his lips as he licks a stripe from the corner of her mouth to her cheekbone. Y/N makes a startled noise around his thumb, goosebumps littering her skin. Warmth and wet from his thick muscle as it lingers unnecessarily; he hums lewdly, over exaggerating the pleasure just to amplify Y/N’s—to watch her squeeze her thighs out of the corner of his eye as he leans back and swallows.

“Beautiful,” he concludes—about her frosting or about her, Y/N doesn’t know. Her eyes are wide and crystal clear, every emotion glittering over the surface of her corneas. And she just sits there, white smudges over her cheek, her lips, staring up at Harry as though he created the world in the palm of his hand—as though she sleeps soundly curled up in the nest of his dimple or the crevice of his navel.

Harry knuckles the rest of the mess off of her skin, suckling the joint into his mouth and gathering it all onto his tongue. She doesn’t expect the grip of his fingers on her jaw and for her automatic response being to present her own tongue, doesn’t realise that she registers the slight purse of his lips as he crowds her space and shamelessly lets the sweetness drip heavily into her mouth.

He doesn’t have to tell her to swallow as her throat bobs, eyes never wavering from Harry’s despite the electricity that jolts up her spine from the casual debauchery. So unwavering, his gaze, as if concentrating on the most important thing to ever happen in his life. Refusing to blink to avoid risking missing a single millisecond.

And then… then he steps back, the moment suddenly gone. Y/N misses the way his eyes droop regretfully.

Silent footfalls pad over to the en-suite, collecting cleanser and lotion, serum and soft wipes. Harry dabs at her face with such precision that Y/N wonders if it’s soothing for him—to take more care than necessary at cleaning her skin. She doesn’t quite understand the intent. Was he not going to continue what Y/N confidently assumes he had in mind?

He doesn’t as he changes out of his suit, he doesn’t as he passes his work shirt to Y/N, he doesn’t as she undresses—which would be the perfect time to do such a thing—he doesn’t as he pulls back the covers and settles in, patting the spot in front of him.

Y/N complies with a similar silence. No words shared but nonverbal communication can be just as effective. The wrap of Harry’s heavy forearm around her waist, pulling her in tight, so tight—almost too tight. That’s soothing enough to her, feeling his hard chest, his hard arms, his hard—

“Mm, Harry,” a whispered moan and a shift of her bum. She can feel him begging to nestle between her.

“No, baby, no,” he tickles her neck inadvertently, burrowing his nose into the delicate flesh. She yearns to crane her head back against his shoulder.

“Want you to feel good, sir. Just stay warm inside me, please?”

“I don’t deserve it, pet. Sleep now. We’ll eat in an hour.”

She can’t argue, not when her eyelids are so heavy. But the sleepiness of her brain and the tingling between her legs has her head all foggy, movements not her own as she guides Harry’s hand up to her mouth and coaxes his middle two fingers past her lips. He sighs into her neck, a gentle huff, but doesn’t resist—his other arm simply snakes under her body to wrap back around her waist and infuse her into his front.

Y/N has never slept so easily after an argument before.

When more of your possessions reside in your dominant’s house than your own, it’s probably time to reevaluate the situation. Y/N doesn’t do that as she juggles cans and bottles before dumping them into her suitcase—Harry’s suitcase because hers was old and battered—doesn’t even ponder it, which is something novel for her.

Harry passes a makeup bag silently from beside her. His case sits open on top of his mattress, slowly filling with clothes and toiletries. She’s not going for long, not even three full days, but Y/N has always been more at ease when she overpacks—instead of underpacking and feeling that swirling dread when she realises she’s forgotten something.

They’d travelled to her house to grab some things and then back to Harry’s—where he neatly folds whilst she fretfully panics—too manic to be overly helpful.

“Do you think I’ll need my sunglasses?” She gestures with them, spinning them around her finger before proceeding to juggle midair to stop them falling to the floor.

Harry smiles, humming whilst he picks a loose bit of fluff from the jeans he’s folding, “I’d take them, just in case.”

“Won’t you tell me where we’re going?” She tries to round her eyes but Harry sees right through her. “Please?”

“No, darlin’, sorry.” He’s not sorry.

“I can’t believe you’ve known the whole time— when did he tell you? Why won’t you tell me? This is ridiculous…” she scoffs, “trying to send me somewhere when I have no bloody clue where it is I’m going—!”

“Oh, watch out everybody, she’s gearing up.”

“—Yes, I am! Stay clear of me unless you want a…” she hesitates , “a…”

“A knuckle sandwich?” Harry offers.

“A knuckle sandwich, yeah!” holding two small fists out in front of her with misguided intent. “Watch out, mate,” hopping about him like a crazy person.

He lets her, hoping she’ll tire herself out with all the bouncing around. “Okay, pal. I’m not telling you! I’m not sending you off to war, don’t worry, okay?”

She almost snorts. Don’t worry… what a ridiculous notion. “When pigs fly, Harry,” she grumbles.

They’re in better spirits today, evidently—although the morning had been tense. When Y/N had peeled her eyes open and relished in the feeling of Harry wrapping her up, she’d melted even further into the mattress. But that was before consciousness had really hit her, before her brain woke up and went fuck.

Harry had gone through the same thing about three seconds later, the jolt of Y/N’s remembrance disturbing his slumber. He’d groaned out, rolling onto his back and slinging a forearm over his eyes. Y/N peeked behind her at his bare chest rising and falling slowly. His grumbling voice had made the hairs on her arms stand up.

“Want a coffee?”

“Oh—I’ll do it, Harry.”

“No you won’t, stay there,” slinging his legs over the side of the bed and stretching his arms above his head.

She still couldn’t help but admire the broadness of his back and the way it rippled despite the suspense in the air. “Could I have a tea, please? Actually, can I just come with you?”

He’d looked back at her, dimple carving its place with a small smile. “Alright, fusspot, come on then.”

“Here you go,” Harry passed her a mug, presenting her with the handled side as if he wasn’t casually holding scalding ceramic in his hand.

It toppled out, really, nearly undecipherable as she rushed, “Thankshandsome.”

Harry brought his mug up to his lips, not quite registering what she’s said, and then he paused, “What did you just say?”

Shit, nothing, nothing. “I said thanks, Harry."

“No you didn’t, did you just call me—?”

“—It sounded weird,” a sad frown pulled at her mouth. “I want to be sweet but it sounded so stupid.”

He shook his head, tongue running along his bottom lip to stop himself cheesing. “Say it again.”

She’s flustered. “I—” Harry raised his eyebrows. “...Thank you, handsome.”

“And again?” tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

Clammy hands dragged over her eyes to try and feel invisible. “Thanks, handsome.”

A broad grin stretched out across his face, and Y/N swore she saw the hint of a blush teasing the surface of his cheeks. “I like it,” he said. “You’re welcome, darlin’.” Y/N’s face burned, a nervous roll of her lip between her teeth before Harry reached out to kiss her cheek.

“I’m sorry about yesterday, baby. Really sorry.”

“Wh—?” She grabbed his hand that had found her face, thumb stroking her chin. “Why? It was my fault, I’m sorry. I promised you. I hate that I broke it.”

“You did promise me, yeah. But I didn’t even say hello to you, sweetheart. What kind of arsehole does that? Made you feel like shit. Can’t deny it, I made you cry.”

“But I just felt bad. Because— Because I promised, and you must’ve been so hungry.”

“It was just a curry, pet. No harm done. You made a very gorgeous cake instead. And yeah, I was hungry but no one died. I don’t hate you because you made a mistake. People make mistakes—I made one hundred mistakes last night.”

“Only a few,” she smiled coyly.

“I’m sorry. I was hungry, and I was tired, and I did all the wrong things. I upset you and it upset me and… I never w’na speak to you like that again. Will you forgive me?”

“I already had,” her voice wobbled, relief flooding her system. Harry wrapped his arms around her shoulders and buried his nose into her hair without a moment of hesitation. “I’m sorry too.”

He hummed. “You know I don’t expect you to cook and clean for me, don’t you? Don’t expect any of that.” She nodded against his chest, forehead rubbing against his bare skin. “Could roll around on the floor all day or pick pretty flowers, as long as you were happy.”

“Stop, you’re making me cry,” a wet sniffle rumbling into his chest.

“You really think I’m handsome?”

She barked out a laugh, pulling back to look into his smiling eyes. “No! I think you’re wretched!”

Now, they pratt about like two high teenagers—giggling about things that could only be funny in these very specific circumstances. Harry insists on pretending to grind on Y/N like he’s been cast in some sort of early two thousands music video, relishing in each fit of shrieky laughter he wins from her, nibbling into her neck and pulling her body into his.

“Harry! You’re supposed to be helping me pack!”

“I am helping.”

“No you’re not!” she laughs.

“Let’s finish it later,” he mumbles into the side of her face, arms squeezing around her middle promisingly. “I’m supposed to be working, you know?” Harry hasn’t set foot in his home office all day.

“You’re the boss,” she argues validly.

“Yeah, I am…” he agrees, keen to keep their bubble from popping. “Will you let me decorate your cake with you?”

Y/N spins around in his arms, face bright as she exclaims, “Yes! Oh my god, yes!”

Harry laughs. “G’na need to make some more frosting, most likely,” smiling like a menace when Y/N’s eyes widen and he can almost feel the heat rising up her face. She glances over to the bowl that is still sat on top of the dresser where Harry moved it the night before. If not for the fact that half of it was used like foundation, then it is most definitely not fresh anymore from its lack of cover.

“Come on, then,” she bites her lip, finding his hand and intertwining their fingers in a bold move of enthusiasm as she coaxes him out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

A beautifully heart shaped cake sits undisturbed on a vintage glass stand, the patterned dome warping the image underneath it. And despite the trouble that said cake caused, Y/N still bounds over to it all smiley, proud like she’s just received a first class distinction for a dissertation she’s slogged over for months.

Harry watches her fondly, noting the way her lips form around silent words as she lists off all the things she needs to get out of the cupboards. It’s a privilege to get to see someone so comfortably in their element; to pick up on things they don’t even notice about themselves.

She ushers him over, presenting a wooden spoon for him to take. “You can stir, muscle man,” the cheeky quip settling on Harry’s skin with a buzz as Y/N slowly pours each ingredient into a bowl. Harry does as he’s told, stirring and beating the mixture until the boss deems it good enough.

She wields the palette knife like it’s an extension of her hand, smoothing the frosting over the cake whilst Harry ‘helps’. Y/N did ask if he wanted to do it, but he couldn’t possibly do a subpar job of her favourite process. So he watches from beside her—not too close (“You make me nervous”) but close enough for moral support (“Not that far away!”)—making an effort to hold his breath in case it were to disturb her.

Cakes were never Harry’s dessert of choice but… but. Y/N’s unwavering glee is enough to make him want to request a change in the law that demands cake be granted to all. “Do you like it?” She grins, looking up at Harry to gauge his reaction. And he hardly has to over exaggerate; it is gorgeous.

“Too good to eat, that’s for sure,” he hums, holding her gaze with a twinkle in his eye.

“Wait! It’s not finished,” her face drops as she remembers, frantically hurrying to the fridge to retrieve a punnet of strawberries.

Harry should’ve known. “Nothing is ever finished without strawberries.” It’s a gentle tease, followed by a huff of laughter, shaking his head gently as she cuts them in half to place around the border of the heart, in between soft peaks of piping.

It’s simple, and it’s sweet, and it’s lovely. Much like Y/N as she habitually holds up a fruit to Harry’s mouth, shrieking and pulling back when he purposefully nips her fingertips. He grins through a chew, fresh, sweet juice shining on his lips.

Then he turns to get some water, presenting Y/N with a perfect opportunity. As he’s filling a glass, letting his mind wander to dinner plans, “Do you fancy spag—” he turns into Y/N’s attack as she strikes. Vanilla buttercream. Vanilla buttercream splattered across his cheek and kissing his eyelashes.

Y/N gasps, hands coming up to cover her mouth and hide her smile, so bad at pretending to be innocent. Harry says nothing, and then he trails his eyes from the floor to her face… “You little minx,” and he pounces.

The submissive yelps, reaching behind her for the counter—frantic for stabilisation as Harry’s body collides into hers. She’s drowning in giggles, out of breath from the incessance. The bottom of her spine digs into marble, hips swivelling as she desperately tries to reach the bowl. Harry’s laughing, pushing forward to rub his sugary face against hers whilst Y/N wiggles—and when he realises her intent, drops his hands to her hips and tugs her behind brutishly into his front—reaches over her back and elongates a sinewy arm to grasp what she can’t.

A clumsy hand bashes against the ceramic, his free arm wrapping around both of Y/N’s the best he can to incapacitate her as his fingers find frosting. He pulls them back, frenzied in his movements as he carelessly sullies her face, her big puffs of laughter tickling his palm. “Ah!” She squeals, head thrown back against his shoulder to try and escape Harry’s menacing paw. “Ha—ha—Harry! Sto-ho-op!”

“You love it,” he grumbles into her temple, far from irritated but his voice can’t help but dip into that velvety cadence with her body pressed so tight against his. He smushes his palm over her mouth, perfectly riled up when Y/N opens her mouth and slathers her tongue against the sticky skin.

She giggles something unattractive—though it makes Harry’s cock twitch in his sweats. “Fuckin’ love struggling like this, don’t you, doll?” And suddenly the mood shifts, Y/N’s laugh catches in her throat and she garbles out a whine instead, body relaxing in Harry’s hold.

He nudges her forward, encourages the stretch of her body over the countertop and the way her knuckles knock against the ceramic. An unconscious hum rumbles past his lips, tongue poking out to taste the sweetness Y/N left behind.

Deft fingertips tug impatiently at the denim hem of her jeans, forcing the button undone and then the zipper, shifting them down to stretch across her thighs. Y/N pants when she realises that’s all the wiggle room Harry is going to grant her.

He pauses, “What’s your colour,” uncharacteristically out of breath, hardly poised as a question.

“Green,” Y/N whines in return, trying to wiggle her hips but Harry wraps his fingers through the back of her underwear and pulls. The fabric cuts into the crease of Y/N’s thighs and a shiver wracks through her as the force of it bounces her ass against him—against his bulge.

His breath hits the shell of her ear as he leans over, taunting and teasing. “Gonna let me fuck you?”

“Yes,” Y/N nods, turning her cheek into the marble to feel the cold spread out across the searing flesh. Her hands form fists, nails digging into her palms—desperate to tug on something but her skin is the only option.

It’s rushed, and it’s frenetic—it’s not the way things usually go and it multiplies Y/N’s excitement tenfold. Her knees wobble without prompt and she’s not sure she’ll be able to hold this position for very long but she doesn’t think she’ll have to. Not when Harry pulls himself out of his sweatpants and slips himself under her panties and through her lips. He’s so hard already, Y/N feels herself wetten from the slightest touch; his weight and his grunt as their bodies meet completely and utterly.

But he’s teasing her, he’s… he’s—

“Harry,” it comes out all whiny and impatient—two things Y/N has never claimed not to be—but with every slant of his hips, every stroke through her arousal and bump of her clit, with her wretched knickers still on, it makes her angry. “Stop—stop teasing me!”

He jerks, unused to such commands toppling from her mouth. “Shh, be good, be quiet,” but complying regardless as he slips her panties down her thighs to stretch just like her jeans. Y/N can’t spread her legs very wide, but that doesn’t stop Harry from pushing at pulling as he pleases—one hand pressing down on her lower back, the other cupping her cunt and smearing her arousal like an artist with a paintbrush.

Neither of them can stand the idea of foreplay right now; Y/N can feel her sad, empty hole pulsing and clenching around nothing—Harry throbs just the same, slicking her wetness up and around his dick, twisting and tugging at the tip enough to make him leak down his knuckles.

They’re wet enough, shining under the harsh kitchen lights, and yet Harry still pulls at Y/N’s ass, spreading her wide to dribble a thick line of spit onto her puckered hole. She jolts, hips grinding unceremoniously against the counter as she feels his saliva drool down to her glistening cunt and Harry’s thumb chase it. He coos and hisses at the bang, smoothing over her hip with his other hand as he starts to rub circles over her.

“Oh—!” It’s impossible not to writhe under the foreign feeling, exposed and wet, trapped by her own jeans. Her forehead falls down, clashing against the marble but Y/N hardly feels it. All she can feel is the pad of Harry’s thumb and the heat it burns into her body—the seeping between her thighs the longer he plays, and the teasing bumps and brushes of his cock against her rounded flesh.

“Shh, that’s it. Good girl.”

And she withers. She disintegrates right in front of Harry’s eyes.

“Pretty girl with a pretty ass, hm? ‘s that feel good, darlin’?”

“Mm, please I—”

“I know, shh—shh,” thudding himself against her firmly, guiding the tip up and down her slick, pushing in to watch her stretch and swallow before leaning back again. Pushing in—pulling out. His thumb applies the slightest of pressure, not enough to send panic clattering up Y/N’s spine but enough to mollify her very being. The sensation—the teasing—of intrusion without the worry of it. The taboo nature of experiencing such pleasure in such places.

When Harry pushes in all the way, Y/N nearly collapses, whimpering into the counter. She can feel him in her fucking throat, she’s sure of it. Every ridge, every vein, the nudge of his head, his slit kissing her walls. And Harry spews all that he can without saying the words themselves.

“Love your fucking cunt, love this—fucking gorgeous body.” His voice thins out to a gravelly whisper, “Were you made just for me, sweetheart?” hips slapping against rippling flesh, palm smoothing up her back to weave into tendrils of hair as his thumb remains encircling. Y/N tries to reply; all that procures are pitiful cries of exertion, air punched out of her lungs with every thrust. “Waiting patiently for me to find you.”

It’s such a romantic sentiment that she finds herself welling up—perhaps easily understood by the overstimulation of her entire vessel but it feels deeper than that. It feels intimate irregardless of their current position. A limp hand flops against her lower back, tired elbow joints aching, searching for its partner—searching for its missing puzzle piece. And when Harry’s fingers slot into place… it forms the whole, pretty picture.

“Love, need you to—” a pause as though he’s forgotten the words as he says them. “Need you to relax. Gripping me so tight—not g’na last.”

But Harry’s sentiment calms her none, she clenches around him even tighter—suddenly tunnel visioned for one thing and one thing only. It’s an amalgamation of wet noises attempting to form syllables, “Pleasecome, pleasecome, please—” Inside, she wants it inside.

“God, baby, you’re so wet,” Harry’s hips stutter, digits squeezing hers even tighter, thumb slipping away to slink around her front and frame two fingers on either side of her cunt, pinching her clit ever so slightly. It makes her shudder, mouth far too numb to feel the drool that strings down onto the counter.

“Mhm, mhm,” pushing back with all the strength she can muster, bum lifting to meet Harry’s pelvis. “Daddy.”

“Okay, darlin’, it’s okay. Need you to come f’me,” framing fingers coming together to form the perfect swipes over her clit—the extra stimulation she needs to just push her over the edge and send her toppling. He feels the way she starts to throb, feels the way the muscles in her legs lock, keeps rubbing to carry her through as her weak whimpers trail into wet sobs.

Y/N practically loses consciousness as her orgasm hits her; squeezes Harry’s hand so tight he hisses for reasons other than his strangled cock. Her knees buckle and her limbs lose competence. Harry moves both hands to her waist, hauling her up and onto her toes as he quickens his pace, lewd slicking and the thud of their bodies the only sounds to ever exist.

And she keeps squeezing, the aftershocks strong enough to pull Harry with her, to force him to slip out frantically before painting stripe after stripe onto her ass, her back. She shakes her head against the hard countertop—never before has she felt such a jarring loss, such a painful transition. Inside, she wanted it inside.

Harry stands behind her, slowly tugging, squeezing out every last drop onto her skin. His legs don’t quite shake like Y/N’s but the exertion, the overwhelming orgasm has his head spinning a bit. But not when he registers his submissive’s wet face, drenched in sweat and tears alike, unable to be peeled from where it lays heavily on the counter. He wisens up entirely, cooing soft, easily digestible words as he cleans her skin with a soft tissue. Swipes in between her legs slowly, careful to avoid unwanted pressure, and straightens her back as thought he might have broken it.

Her eyes are glossy, not fully present but it doesn’t bother him. She looks tired, pupils tracking his face with a lag. But tired means he’s done his job well, tired means all other thoughts fail to penetrate.

They could do with a shower, a sleep, a good meal… but Harry can’t deny the desire to just sit with her for a moment. To untuck a less than comfortable stool and hold her on his lap, chin nestled against her neck. To kiss mindlessly along the slope of her shoulder and massage his fingers into her scalp, to have her doze off on top of him, completely void of tension.

And when she wakes up, he’ll let her eat cake for lunch.

Harry hopes he doesn’t appear too grumpy on the drive to Niall’s. He’s just… well he is grumpy, because he’s going to miss Y/N. And it dawns on him on that journey, just how much he’s going to fucking miss her.

It shouldn’t be so hard to tell her—not when he feels it so fervently. Maybe it makes Harry selfish for wanting her to say it first but he tells himself that’s why he’s waiting. Not because he’s worried but because he wants Y/N to be brave.

And it weighs on him, every goodbye being void of those three little words. It weighs on him but it still doesn’t mean he says it any sooner.

Y/N buzzes beside him, practically vibrating in her seat. She turns her seat warmer on, adjusts the aircon, switches the radio station, turns her seat warmer off, rummages around in Harry’s glove box for nothing in particular.

She’s nervous. She’s excited but she’s nervous—and even a blind man would be able to tell. Harry lovingly wishes he maybe could be blind, or better deaf, as she prattles on; terminally diagnosed with verbal diarrhoea as he ums and ahs to appease her. He stopped listening when she started rattling off facts about pigeons (pigeons, for Christ’s sake), focusing intently on the road alongside his own internal battles.

Harry doesn’t mean to suggest he doesn’t enjoy her borderline insanity—he does—he’s head over heels in love with her insanity. She entertains him thoroughly without even trying to and he thinks he could only list on one hand the times he hasn’t been completely endeared with her.

But he can forgive himself for zoning about when it comes to pigeon facts, no matter how interesting it may be that the species were entirely domesticated, and then abandoned by humans.

“I need a wee,” she complains, shifting her seat belt so it stops pressing into her bladder.

“‘s alright, only five minutes away.”

“I know,” she whinges, starting to tug at the hem of her sleeve. Harry sees her incessant fiddling out of the corner of his eye, placing his upturned hand on her thigh as a silent ask for her own. Y/N takes the bait, and a calm settles over them.

When they pull up outside Niall’s place, he’s leaning against the hood of his car, squinting at his phone. At the sound of tires over gravel he looks up and grins, elation taking over his face. And however desperate Y/N might have been to go to the bathroom, and no matter how excited her friend is, she doesn’t dare to rush getting out of the car.

She slings her arms around Harry’s neck, bidding farewell as if she’s going abroad and not just an hour away. But Harry doesn’t laugh, he hugs her back just as tight, inhaling the freshness of her skin—desperate to keep her scent with him until she gets back. He presses kisses into the side of her head, warm palm rubbing her lower back—usually he might be reassuring her with gentle words but right now he can’t find it within himself to do so.

He doesn’t want her to go.

And he’s a grown, adult man—not some lovesick teenager. She’s going for three days. THREE. But Harry still hasn’t said I love you and each departure feels more and more dangerous.

“You’re gonna have such a lovely time,” he pulls back to kiss her cheek and her lashes flutter like little butterfly wings. A knuckle down the bridge of her nose and teasingly flicking underneath to make her giggle. “Text me when you arrive, okay?”

“Yeah,” she hums, less than subtly leaning in, hoping he’ll kiss her like they do in the movies. An incapacitating kind of kiss. And Harry delivers like it’s his profession, devouring hands overwhelming in their cradle of her head, directing her movements as he teases the corner of her mouth with a gentle press of his lips. He wishes he could take more time. He wishes Niall weren’t right outside the fucking window probably simpering at the sight. He wishes he could give her more than just a chaste sponging of their mouths, followed by a flurry of departing pecks.

He wishes he could just say the fucking words.

A knock sounds from behind Harry’s head—knuckles on glass—and the muffled sound of Niall’s teasing, “Get a move on, you two! We’ve got to leave today,” and Harry meets Y/N’s gaze, rolling his eyes obnoxiously whilst she laughs. Their bubble has been popped, and she’s opening the car door, bounding over to her friend all foolishly as she playfully berates him. Harry’s mouth curls up into a small smile, sliding out of the car and silently getting Y/N’s suitcase whilst amusedly shaking his head.

He even gets a coy, “Thanks, handsome,” a twinkle in Y/N’s eye as she embarrasses herself in front of Niall to make Harry’s heart jump. The two men hug and pat one another on the back, exchanging pleasantries and agreeing that it’s been too long. But it’s unnecessary to hang around, and Niall makes some comment about how he needs to take care of something he’d nearly forgotten, so Harry pulls himself away and tries not to watch Y/N in the rearview mirror as he pulls back out onto the road.

It follows him around for the rest of the day, his lack of courage, of flexibility. The fact that a more than capable CEO—a dominant—couldn’t say I love you to his partner. He’s not embarrassed, no it runs deeper than insecurity, but he’s frustrated. And Harry has never been irrational but perhaps Y/N has been rubbing off on him because he finds himself starting to panic.

What if there’s an accident? There’s an accident and Harry never gets to tell her… He has to stop those thoughts before he finds himself calling her up to demand her life status, and then again thirty minutes later, and another thirty minutes. But it’s not so irrational, he can’t help but believe. Accidents happen all the time—and Harry can’t stand going any longer without telling her how bleak his life would be without her.

It doesn’t help to scroll through social media. A fucking philosophy. Not when life starts showing you godforsaken signs. A friend getting married here, a newborn baby there. Everyone coupled up and happy—basking in love without boundaries. Love without hesitation and fear. Harry wants to give that to Y/N. He has that love for Y/N, and he’s positive she has it for him too.

So he exits out of Instagram and starts to look through his own personal social media—his camera roll. Harry has more photos on his phone of Y/N than he does his parents, his sister, his friends. The folder he’s titled simply with her name holds a number of images that might indicate he harbours strong feelings for the girl.

In their short but staggering relationship, thus far, Harry has taken seventy two photographs of Y/N. More if he were to count the ones he deleted after a panicked spam to capture the moment before it passed. He swipes through them slowly—one of Y/N asleep in his bed, naked back pretty in the morning light. One of her sitting across from him at their favourite café, caught off guard in an authentic smile that he can never get out of her when he asks her to pose. He treasures that one. A photo of her laying on lucious grass, arms and legs spread out like she is trying to make some sort of snow angel without the snow. A photo of her wet from the pool, droplets littering her skin as she sunbathes unaware—and then a subsequent photo of when she spotted Harry with his phone directed at her, and scrunched her nose up in disgust. He’d looked at that one for ages.

He wonders what she’s doing now. Knows they arrived not long ago, from her bubbly text message adorned in exclamation marks and emojis. Wishes he could’ve seen her reaction when they pulled up outside the place—a luxury health spa. The perfect place for a neurotic who has an affinity for smelling and feeling nice. She had sent him screenshots; the reaction she’d had over text when Niall admitted to her how he’d booked their visit.

Y/N this room is incredible omg how did you get us in here with such short notice?

Niall right??? don’t need a spa just need this bedroom I BOOKED IT IN HARRY’S NAME LOL no I’m kidding, I’m kidding… okay, I’m not kidding but I phoned him straight afterwards I knew he’d be fine with it I paid him for my room and stuff don’t worry desperate times called for desperate measures and I knew his name would get us a stay

Y/N NIALL YOU ARE INSANE YOU CAN’T DO THAT how did you have his card details what the hell??? actually don’t tell me i don’t want to be liable by association when you get arrested or whatever

Niall aiding and abetting? is what it’s called, I think ANYWAY YOU WORRY TOO MUCH HARRY IS FINE WITH IT now HURRY UP!!!!! I want to go the in hot tub 😋 in the*

She’d followed the photos up with thank you, harry. wish you were here to enjoy it too x—and it had only made him miss her more.

Y/N and Niall's luxurious long weekend goes by too quickly. And despite her words being true—that she wished Harry could be with them—Niall, unsurprisingly keeps Y/N wonderfully distracted. It’s a relief that she hasn’t become insufferable since dating someone. That she hasn’t turned into one of those people who bring up their partner in every. single. conversation. That she’s not just moping around waiting to go home and ruining Niall’s enjoyment. Y/N actually finds herself to be… content.

Yes, she misses Harry. She misses sleeping in his bed, in his arms. She misses walking into a room and seeing him just existing. But it doesn’t stop her from lounging in the hot tub with Niall and giggling over gossip. It doesn’t stop her from going to a pilates class and instantly regretting it. It doesn’t stop her from getting a massage so good she nearly falls asleep—although she may admit to pretending the woman administering the massage is in fact her dominant, with suddenly much smaller hands—but that’s neither here nor there.

And when Monday morning rolls around, she’s loose-limbed and fresh-faced—and very much excited about seeing Harry again. What she doesn’t know is that he’s been excited about seeing her again since he dropped her off… and is having the closest thing to a mental breakdown over their lack of communication.

He wakes up disgruntled; a night of tossing and turning and bags slowly procuring under his eyes. He wakes up and showers. He eats and he glances over his emails. He’ll be ‘working’ from home today, without a doubt.

It feels as though the only thing that can capture his attention is the clock—each hand ticking slower than the last. Y/N won’t be home until midday at least, but Harry can’t find himself able to concentrate on anything else.

It seems the universe has it out for him, when he switches the television on and Y/N’s favourite rom com blares through the speakers. During her favourite scene, of course. He wants to switch it off—not through distaste but through yearing—through painful reminder. But he can’t; not only because he adores the movie too but because the scene in which Y/N loves so much is just that. The climax of the film, the moment everybody has been waiting for—the love confession.

“For fuck’s sake,” he curses to the empty room. Because it’s typical, isn’t it? That coincidence would strike at this moment in time. That out of all the channels and all the TV shows, the films that could’ve been on at eleven thirty on a Monday morning, it’s this one. He doesn’t really watch it. He’s seen it enough times to know what happens. But it helps him decide something. It helps him ignore any and all previous stances on the matter—fuck making her say it first.

Harry knows she loves him and he gets in his car to tell her so, leaving the television murmuring quietly—two besotted characters lost in an embrace to the sound of his front door clicking shut.

Niall drops Y/N home at approximately the same time Harry leaves his. Of course, Y/N doesn’t know this, and she would’ve appreciated a warning—maybe the chance to have a cup of tea and unpack her case first. But she’s feeling vibrantly recuperated—thoroughly pampered and sucked into the blissful dreamworld of a weekend at a spa, and it hardly crosses her mind to question why Harry turns up so chaotically.

Why he knocks on her door instead of just coming straight in, why he tugs her into him as though she’s just been rescued, why he pulls back just to ask a less than sensical question. "Why won't you say it to me?"

Perplexed silence. Y/N's fingertips linger on the door handle as she tumbles back from his embrace, her gait once relaxed and happy—now stiff and unsure. Somewhere in the back of her mind she thinks Harry’s just wasted all of his money paying for that long weekend.

"Harry?" It hasn't clicked yet, what he's talking about, but it still sits heavy in her gut—heavy and unanswered.

"Why won't you say it, darling?" He looks desperate... it doesn't compliment him well; it makes Y/N nervous. Harry is a suit without creases, shining shoes, perfect hair kind of man, but right now he vibrates on her doorstep in two day old sweats and hand combed locks. In fact, he can't seem to keep his fingers out of those runnels—creating new ones with each breath Y/N's voice fails to break the silence.

"Say what?" She practically begs it. Say what? Please, please, please. Tell me, let it be okay, let it be simple. "I'll say anything you want, Harry," it doesn't evade her that perhaps she should hear him out first. But it's as she whispers the commitment that she realises it. That she would say anything he wanted to hear… for Harry, Y/N would perform absurdities.

Usually shimmering jade now refuses to glisten in the light, green from a marsh or a bog. Y/N misses the viridescence. Harry releases a breath, lashes swatting heavily against his under eye. "You know, you— I need you to know."

And then… suddenly, she does. Suddenly, she’s kidding herself if she pretends she doesn’t know. It clicks—it clicks and Y/N’s heart stutters. This is cruel of Harry, so cruel. He sent her away to relax and now he’s setting up something fanciful just to make a mockery of her.

“That’s not fair,” she wobbles, in word and posture. Her knees start to feel weak, her chest tightens, the image of Harry before her—still hovering outside—starts to thicken. Y/N takes a step back, and Harry one forward. He shuts the door behind him, free from the chill of the wind, now trapped inside.

“Not fair? What do you mean?”

This—this isn’t how Harry talks, this exasperation, this urgency. He takes care of her, he tells her what she means when she speaks. Y/N doesn’t figure that out on her own. Harry always… he always knows. Why doesn’t he know?

Y/N turns her back on him when the corners of her eyes start to burn. A pathetic breakdown of emotion, she thinks. “You must know I’ve just been waiting… waiting for the day. Been so patient, my love. Please talk to me.”

“I can’t,” her words swallow one another, throat thick and wet.

Harry rushes round to see her, his eyebrows uncomfortably pulled towards the centre of his face. There’s a migraine brewing behind his eyes. “Yes, you can. You can, darling,” chilled palms hold her head up. Y/N wants to shake them off but the temptation is smothered the mere second it arrives. “What are you so afraid of? S’just me.”

“Can’t—can’t… can’t,” scalding tears tip over her waterline, streaming down and over the knuckles of Harry’s thumbs as they brush over her quivering cheeks. She inhales a shaky, shallow breath. “Need you. Need to keep it—this—safe.”

“Why wouldn’t it be safe, Y/N?”

“I’ll ruin it, I’ll—I’m not—” she closes her eyes, “You can’t possibly—”

“—Love you?”

The mere suggestion of it punches the air from her lungs. Despite the fact he’s not saying it to her, it might as well have the same effect. She shakes her head, dislodging a tear.

“I love you, Y/N.” She shakes her head harder. “I love you so much.”

“No,” it’s a thick, ugly cry. “You can’t, I’m— I’m no good, I’m annoying.”

And Harry… Harry does something borderline offensive. Harry laughs in her face. He laughs loudly and he laughs boldly, carving out a crease in between Y/N’s eyebrows.

“I love you,” he says again. And he feels so, so miraculously light, after fretting over it for so long. After hearing her only excuse be that she doesn’t feel deserving of it… well. Harry doesn’t think that’s so hard to help her with, after all. “I love you.”

“Stop,” she weeps, face begging to hide but Harry’s hands hold it up. He’s just a blur before her.

“Hey, hey,” the pads of his thumbs are soaked but that doesn’t stop him from trying to wipe her face. “Look at me—come on, pretty girl, that’s it.” Y/N can feel her bottom lip wobbling. “Do you remember… a few weeks ago, when you were upset—”

Y/N snorts—she can’t help herself—the self-loathe overrules.

“—Oi. Yes, I know, don’t say it. You were upset and you accidentally dropped that plate, yeah? You remember? And I bought you flowers and you felt bad the next day because you didn’t notice?”

Yes. Yes, she remembers that. She’d felt so bad. So embarrassed when she’d asked him where they’d come from, and he’d admitted he wanted to give them to her yesterday when he got home. Too wrapped up in her own despair to realise—too selfish, and dramatic, and ridiculous—

“Hey—don’t think about it, I’m not— I mean,” he stops and sighs, rakes his hand through the back of her hair. “I buy you flowers with meaning, yeah? Yellow tulips, white gardenias…” Y/N nods slowly, confused but fond of the memory of those yellow tulips indefinitely. “Those flowers I bought a few weeks ago… they were red roses, baby. They symbolise love—they mean I love you. And I was going to tell you if you’d asked but… well, it didn’t happen—And I’m not blaming you, I’m not, but I can’t not say it anymore. And I need you to want to say it back to me darling.”

Y/N starts crying again—she never exactly stopped but the tears had paused momentarily to allow Harry his room to speak. But now? Now they’re under no semblance of control. She paws at his t-shirt, words garbled but he knows what she’s saying, “I love you, Harry. I love you s-so much,” and it’s never sounded more beautiful. It’s a mess, and it’s far from romantic—snot and tears coalescing into one big disaster—but Harry still kisses her.

He kisses her and he smiles, laughing when she laughs through her sobs—saying it over, and over, and over again. “I love you,” he whispers, and she echoes it back through waves of emotion. “You’re it for me, you know that?” And Y/N can’t bear to hear it. She’ll still struggle to believe him, for many months to come, they’re both sure.

“But—” she pulls back, swipes furiously at her face with no impact, “—the roses— they died, Harry. Does that mean your love died with them?” It’s a ridiculous notion; of course Harry laughs. “Shut up!”

“I didn’t say anything!” He’s grinning, and Y/N can’t help but mirror his expression. How could she stop her lips from twitching upwards at such a sight? Harry tugs her to his chest, squeezes her so tight she might just get stuck there, and holds her for as long as it takes for their heartbeats to return to normal.

And when they do, he tucks his lips against the top of her head and asks, “Does this mean you’ll quit your job now?”

Y/N takes a moment to ponder her reply… and then he… he feels her smile into his chest before she leans back and looks up with the prettiest, cheekiest, little grin, “Maybe,” ducking out of his embrace and starting to slowly waddle backwards, “if you can catch me.”

Harry doesn’t even do her the courtesy of a head start.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles one shots #harry styles blurbs #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #domrry #writing #mutually beneficial #dom!harry

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hyunniesgirl · 3 months

Text

Bad intentions | Part 2

Pairing: Han Jisung x afab!reader

Summary: you thought you could turn Han Jisung into the perfect boyfriend material so you can get revenge on your cheating ex. Little did you know that you would end up getting much more than just a guy to show off.

Words count: 13,668(Idk don't look at me)

This content is +18 ONLY, minors do NOT interact!

It's advised to read part 1 before this one for context and better understanding of the plot.

Part 1 | Love is a mess: series masterlist

Warnings: dry humping, handjob, fingering, cursing, pet names(baby, pretty), oral(f, m receiving), unprotected piv(for the love of god don't do this irl), jealousy, angst, fluff

A/N: here I am again, procrastinating what I should be doing just so I can take this fic out of my head. Hope you guys like it ❣️

Seunghoon was never one to do acts of service, he would tell you he loved you and even though you didn't always believe that, that's what he offered and you just took it. You always thought that that was everything you deserved, better a bit of affection than no affection at all.

So you didn't expect to find Jisung waiting for you the next morning. He's outside of his car, scrolling on his phone, leaning against the vehicle.

You close your front door slowly, like he can just disappear if you make any hasty movements. As if Jisung can feel your presence, he lifts his eyes looking in your direction, smiling and waving to you.

“Fancy seeing you here”, he jokes, tilting his head when you come closer.

“In front of my… house?” You ask, smiling and he shrugs, embarrassed. He didn't really think it through, he just got into his car and when he realized, he was in front of your house.

“I just thought we could go to school together”, he kicks a rock on the ground, losing confidence, “but it's okay if you don't want to”

You step closer to him, taking his hand into yours and interlacing your fingers. That sudden electricity from before running through all your body the moment you touch him.

“Maybe you can convince me”, you tilt your head, biting on your lower lip while looking at his lips, looking extremely kissable.

“How?” His head snaps to look at you, following your gaze and understanding what you're suggesting. He feels his ears warm, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your body closer to his.

Jisung kisses you, the warmth of his touch spreading all over your body. His tongue brushes against your lips and one of his hands slides through your hair, pulling it lightly.

You open your mouth slowly, too intoxicated by his scent to think clearly, putting your hands on his hips, sliding up just to find his deliciously small waist that you could never notice with the baggy clothes he wears.

“Well, you're full of surprises, aren't you?” You say when you two finally part the kiss.

He frowns, looking at you breathless.

“Shall we?” You ask, pointing at the car and he nods, turning around and opening the door for you. Before going in, you look at him, a playful smile on your lips. “You'll get me to do a lot of things if you keep using these means of persuasion”

For the first time in your life you don't want the spotlight to be on you, you feel uncomfortable being the center of attention. You know exactly why people are staring when you arrive at school with Jisung.

You wish you were being judged by showing up with a new guy barely a month after breaking up with Seunghoon, but that's not it.

People are looking at Jisung, you know they are. You don't mind the snickering comments or the idiotic jokes directed at you, but you don't want him to go through that.

“Should we have lunch together?” He asks you, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Actually, I don't know if I'll have lunch today”, you lie. If you think logically, you should try to stay away from him at school. Maybe people won't target him if you do that.

“Do you want me to take you home after school, then?” He asks, frowning, finding your sudden change of attitude strange.

“There's no need, I have practice”, you avoid his eyes, ashamed of yourself.

You're an idiot, you shouldn't have made such hasty decisions. You should have thought about how mean people would be to him if you brought him into the spotlight with you.

Jisung feels his stomach sinking in and he can't help but take a look at himself, he never really cared about the way he dressed. He wears anything that he finds that's clean, not worried about looking good or fashionable.

He has always been the smart guy, the one who has no care in the world other than the things he has his eyes set on and that has always been his studies and music.

His family was shocked when he chose a career in music since he could do anything else. He has the brains to choose any path that had success guaranteed but he chose something as uncertain as a career in the music industry.

He did end up being successful anyway, after meeting his friends and forming 3racha, it didn't take long for them to land a contract with a big label. The three of them stayed in college though, each for a different reason.

Looking at you though, you're very different from him. You worry about your image and what people think about you. If he looks at you, from your hair to your shoes everything is matched to perfection. You're always nice with everyone, even with the people you know talk shit about you and you still keep your grades up.

So why, someone who worries so much about her image would want to be seen with someone like him?

He never worried about his clothes or being popular, but now? He's very worried about those exact things. If you end up dating him, how will people perceive you? You're the center of attention so the person who's dating you, automatically will be in that same center.

Jisung decides to wait for you after practice, he knows you told him not to, but he knows that if he stays in his head, he'll go crazy – thinking about all the worst case scenarios where you're going to dump his ass anytime now just because he's not popular enough.

You smile when you see him but it dies down a few seconds later, when a group of girls from your cheer squad walks past you, laughing about something.

“Hey”, he says when you get closer.

“You didn't have to pick me up”, you say awkwardly, hoping he didn't hear what those girls said.

“Yeah, but I thought you would be too tired to walk back home-”

“It's just a short walk”, you tell him, pressing your lips in a thin line. He stares at you for a moment, frowning, debating in his mind if he should say something about your strange behavior and knowing that if he doesn't, it will eat him alive.

“Y/N?” He starts, voice too serious, “are you embarrassed because of me?”

Jisung really doesn't want to hear your answer, it would crush him if you said yes but he has the slight hope that you will deny it.

“No! No, absolutely not”, you shake your head frantically. He feels a huge weight being lifted off his back but at the same time, he still doesn't understand why you were acting like that.

“But then why-” you cut him mid sentence, taking a deep breath. Bold of you to assume that a person as smart as him wouldn't notice how you were acting.

“People can be really mean”, you tell him, “I'm afraid you're going to go through a hard time because of me”, you pout, feeling like crying. What if he agrees with you? What if he doesn't think you're worth the trouble?

“Why would you think that?” He searches for your hands, holding them and pulling you closer.

“If you date me, people are going to talk about you and I don't want you to hear the same things I have to”, you tell him, honestly.

Popularity is great, you love the attention but it has its downsides. The amount of times you had to listen to people talking shit about you in the restroom, when they didn't know you were there, is wild. You lost count of how many times you walked in on a conversation of someone talking something bad about you and you had to pretend like you didn't know.

You don't want Jisung to experience that, he's invisible now and he enjoys that, it's not fair that you would take him out of his comfort zone just to date you.

“What about you?” He asks, making you look at him with a frown. “You don't care that I don't know how to dress and that I’m basically invisible?”

You smile. Against your better judgment you don't, you really don't.

“I mean, if you could just let me take you to a hairstylist”, you say, lifting your hand to his face and brushing his hair to the side. “I really want to be able to look at your eyes while talking to you”, you joke.

“Ouch”, he puts his hand on his heart, pretending to be hurt. “I don't care what people say about me, okay? I only care about what you think”, he informs you, as if he didn't make that clear already.

“Are you sure?” You ask once more, giving him a chance to escape, even though you don't want him to.

“I am”, he nods, pulling you even closer and wrapping his arm around your waist. “So, can I have lunch with you from now on? And take you to and back from school? Hm?”

You nod, smiling happily.

“I'd love that”

You decide to let people talk, if Jisung doesn't care about it then neither will you, and let's say that after that conversation things just got hotter between you two.

Classrooms, cars, under the bleachers, the locker rooms, there's no place where your makeout sessions didn't reach. You just can't really behave yourself in his presence, when you two are alone you just have to touch each other and after that you just can't help what comes next.

Everyday. Before, between and after classes you're all over each other. You're covered in hickeys, your hair is always a mess and lipstick just won't last on your lips for long. Jisung is no better than you, the only difference is that he can hide the love bites more easily and his flustered face is less noticeable than yours.

You are both in his car trying to get to the restaurant before one of you yields and try to touch the other, when his phone rings.

“Hey”, he says, putting on speaker while he keeps driving.

“I’m sorry to call, I know you're on a date”, you hear Chan's tired voice on the other side of the line, “but my laptop died for whatever reason and the song we prepared to send tomorrow morning was there, I didn't have time to make a backup”, he sighs.

“We lost everything?” Han asks, panic in his voice.

“No, we have the unfinished version on Changbin's laptop but we lost what we worked on yesterday”, Chan explains and Han nods, even though his friend can't see him.

“Okay, yeah, I can go there and-”, he stops mid sentence, looking at you puzzled. “You are out of the city, right?” He asks Chan.

“Yes and Changbin has a test tomorrow, he won't be able to do it”

“Can I go to the studio with you?” You ask and Han nods, confused. “Then we are going to be there soon, Chan, don't worry”, you tell.

“Thank you”, Chan sighs, giving his goodbye and hanging up.

“Are you sure?” Jisung asks, watching you pick up your phone in your purse.

“Yeah”, you shrug, “we can have dinner in a fancy restaurant another time”, you say, calling the said restaurant so you can cancel your reservation.

Jisung watches you talking calmly with the restaurant, feeling grateful, you didn't have to be so understanding.

“Should we order some fried chicken?” You ask, after hanging up, “unfortunately they won't give us a refund”

“It's okay”, Jisung chuckles, “and I'd love fried chicken”

“To tell you the truth, fancy stuff is not my cup of tea”, you tell him, “I much rather have some chicken and beer”

“Well, my lady”, he smiles at you, “luckily for you I know a great place that sell exactly those things”

You watch Jisung work, he looks so professional while doing whatever he's doing. He's focused, a few strands of hair falling slightly over his eyes. His hands work fast, mixing, going back and forth and fixing different parts.

You sit there on the couch, waiting for him to finish. One, two, three hours go by. It's one in the morning when he sighs, closing the laptop and turning his chair towards you.

“Are you done?” You ask, hopeful and Jisung nods, standing up and walking to the couch, sitting comfortably on your side, resting his head on the back of the couch. Eyes closed trying to rest his eyes. “Did you make a backup?” You tease, watching him open his eyes slowly, turning his head to look at you.

“I did”, he chuckles, “and sent the backup to Changbin and Chan too”

“That's good”, you tell him, snuggling closer.

“Sorry that we didn't have a proper date”, he says.

“Don't be sorry. I think this is great”, you shrug, “I had good food and got to see you looking hot while working, that sounds like a win win for me”

Jisung laughs, shaking his head to your antics.

“Still, if there's anything I can do to make it up to you, just let me know”, he tells you.

That's when you realize Han Jisung doesn't know you at all, this man shouldn't give someone like you an opening like that.

“Oh, in that case”, you bite your bottom lip. “I have some ideas of how you can make it up to me”

You lean closer to him, face centimeters away from his.

“You could start with this”, you give him a peck on the lips, “and then you can go down here”, you kiss his jaw, going down to his neck, “then you can use your imagination here”, you suck on the skin that already has purple ish marks fading away.

“Is that right?” Eyes darkening, his hands land on your hips, pulling you closer.

“Mmn”, you agree with a shit eating grin on your face.

“And what about this?” He grabs your hips, bringing you to his lap. Your cheeks grow hotter, he's so much more bold than when you started seeing each other. “Do you like it?” He tilts his head, brows arched and a smirk on his lips.

“Where did the guy that freaked out about the thought of receiving nudes go?” You pout, you hate that he can so easily get you flustered.

Jisung throws his head back, chuckling while looking down on you. He tightens the grip on your hips, pressing your body closer to him. You can feel something hard beneath you and that doesn't help you at all, your face growing even more red.

“I had to change my approach when I realized you like to tease”, he brings his face closer to yours, “but you have no experience with being teased”, he smiles, seeing your breathing halt. You're cute.

He kisses you, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer, rubbing your aching core on his hard on. You gasp, feeling the sudden stimulation but he keeps his lips on you, tongue brushing on yours slowly making you dizzy.

Jisung slides his hands to your thighs, pulling your skirt up so he can grab the flesh of your ass and squeeze it.

“Hannie”, you whisper, feeling his cock pressing against your clothed clit, making the knot in your lower stomach grow.

“Hm?” He asks, Jisung just loves when you use that nickname to call him. “Are you enjoying yourself, pretty?” He teases and you nod, moving your hips on your own, chasing your high.

You look at Jisung, brushing the strands of hair out of his eyes, biting on your lower lip before kissing him. You look so majestic riding him, he has no words so he tries to show you how turned on he is by kissing you with all the lust he has in himself. Hands on your hips forcing you closer to him, stimulating you more.

“I-I'm c-close”, you struggle to say, feeling all the heat spreading all over your body as you bend down and bite his shoulder to contain the loud moan you let out.

Jisung wraps his arms around your waist, snuggling his face into your neck and leaving kisses on your sweaty skin. You're kind of embarrassed, you didn't think you would be doing something like that in a place like here.

“Next time let me hear you, yeah?” He teases and you groan, slapping his arm.

“No, what if someone heard me?” You protest and he smiles, brushing your hair behind your ear.

“There's no one here at this hour”, he reassures you, “but anyone that ever heard you moaning should thank you, baby”, he gives a peck on your lips, biting your bottom lip.

“You didn't finish, right?” You sigh, closing your eyes to the feeling of his cock still hard as a rock beneath you.

“Don't worry about it”, he shrugs, “I got to make you cum, that's enough for me”, he smirks, too proud of himself but you have your own pride, no way you're going to let him see you like this and not do the same.

“Can I touch you?” You ask, getting out of his lap and comfortable by his side on the couch, waiting for his answer so you can unzip his pants.

“You don't need to feel obligated”, he says but clears his throat when you glare at him, “yeah, you can”

You waste no time, working on opening his pants and pulling his underwear down to see his painfully hard cock, he's bigger than you thought he would be. You feel your core throbbing once more, just thinking about how you're going to make him fit inside you, that won't be easy but you're sure you can manage.

You grab his length with your hand, making him jump and whine. ‘What a beautiful sound’, you think.

Your hand starts moving up and down and you watch as Jisung throws his head back, mouth open, low moans coming out and eyes closed as he approaches his orgasm. He looks so pretty like that, so you get closer, leaning over and kissing him. Jisung groans, thrusting his hips against your fist, making even more lewd noises while you just watch him, face so close you can feel his breath hitting on your skin.

When his movements start faltering, he can feel his release and in a moment later his hot cum is spreading all over your hand.

“Fuck”, he says, ears turning red instantly when he comes down of his high. “I usually take longer”, he explains nervously, making you chuckle.

“I didn't say anything”, you shrug, finding his anxious eyes too cute.

“I'm serious”, he pouts, zipping his pants back on.

“Me too”, you chuckle, “you took way longer than most guys do, there was a hot girl humping on you and you didn't cum, that's a feat in itself”, you tell him and he bites back a smile, you're such an idiot. But cute, definitely cute.

Jisung watches as you get up, looking for the bathroom so you can clean yourself and he finds himself smiling alone, thinking of you. What are you doing to him? And why does he not mind it at all?

It doesn't take long for Seunghoon to find out who's the guy you're going out with and he doesn't waste any time to come and find you, being the asshole he is.

You're having lunch with Mina and Miyeon when you feel that familiar arm on top of your shoulders, his scent is the same, so there's no mistaking it.

“You didn't tell me the guy you're seeing is Han Jisung”, Seunghoon’s snarky voice feels like a knife being thrown at you. You grab his arm, tossing away from you, his touch makes you sick.

“Didn't think I owed you a full report of who I'm dating now”, you say back, rolling your eyes.

“Well, I mean”, he sneers, “I thought your standards were higher”

You feel your face turning red, not from embarrassment, no, it's anger, the only reaction this man can get out of you now.

“Of course my standards are higher”, you take a deep breath, knowing very well that if you punch him in the face right now, he's going to win. “That's why I went for someone much better than you”, you roll your eyes.

“Please, in what world that guy is better than me?” He laughs and you can't help but chuckle.

“I sure could tell you all the things he's better than you, but I don't think people really need to know about how disappointing you are in bed and outside of it too”, you finish, standing up. “Ah”, you turn to him before you can walk away, “don't come looking for me again, Jisung can get very jealous”

Walking home you're foaming at the mouth, who does he think he is to talk about Jisung in that way? Oh, you really wish you could have beat the hell out of him, fucking bastard. Well, fuck him, you're better off without that prick and you hope you don't have to think about him ever again.

As soon as you get home, you hear voices inside your house coming to the conclusion that your parents are home, as if things couldn't get worse.

You take a deep breath before turning the knob to open the door, meeting uninterested looks when you walk by the kitchen.

“Why did you arrive so late?” Your mom asks, not really looking at you now, much more interested in her phone.

“I had practice”, you say, opening the fridge to grab an apple. You're hungry but if you have to eat with them you're sure you're gonna have indigestion.

“Shouldn't you be studying?” Your father accuses you. “Your brother is the best student in every one of his classes”

“Well if I had that many expensive tutors I would be the best too”, you mumble, receiving a raised brow from the older man. “I don't have any exams for the time being”, you sigh, excusing yourself but before you can cross the door out of the kitchen you hear your mom's voice.

“We are going to travel again tomorrow, we just came home to get some things”, you nod, that's nothing new.

Jisung is walking back and forth in the living room of his apartment, waiting anxiously for Chan and Changbin to be back from their morning workout session.

You didn't see it, but Jisung was there at the dining hall. He froze dead in his tracks the moment he saw Seunghoon sitting with you, all the worst case scenarios coming to his mind. Did you go back to him? You wouldn't, right?

It's true that you and Jisung don't have anything official yet, but it looked like you liked him, so even though his brain was having a field day telling him you never once enjoyed being with him, it's hard for him to actually believe you would put him aside just like that.

He can hear everything, Seunghoon isn't trying to be quiet and he's saying the exact things you were afraid Jisung would hear. He doesn't care about people talking shit about him, the only thing he cares about is what you think about him and the way you just straight away told off your ex’s makes Jisung proud of you, proud of being with you.

However, even though you don't mind all the talks and mean comments, he does. He doesn't want to harm your reputation or more importantly he doesn't want to hurt you. So Jisung made the decision to become someone better, he wants to be better for you. So when his friends open the front door, carrying their gym bags, they bump into a restless Jisung.

“Can you help me?” He asks, making Changbin and Chan look at each other and nod, sitting down with their youngest to talk.

It's been years since the three met each other and every once in a while they tried to convince Jisung to accept their advice so he could be more popular.

It was exhausting, really, Jisung only cared about music and finishing college. His routine was basically going from the studio to university to home. Work, study and sleep, those are the things he usually cares about. So it was nice seeing him going out, meeting you. He's been happier recently and it's nice for them to see him trying to improve himself for you even though they both doubted your intentions at first.

“What do you have in mind?” Chan asks.

“She- hm… she said my hair is too long?” He says, a bit embarrassed.

“We've been telling you this for months”, Changbin whines.

“Well, I think I should get a haircut and buy some new clothes”, Jisung huffs.

“Shouldn't you ask y/n to help you out with that? I'm sure she would love that”, Chan grins.

“I want to surprise her”, the younger one smiles sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

“Okay, then”, Chan nods, “give us time to take a shower-”

“And eat”, Changbin adds.

“And eat, then we can go”, Chan laughs, standing up and walking to his room.

Jisung didn't talk much with you for two straight days, he only answered the texts you sent him and every time you asked if he wanted to meet, he said he had other plans. You started to worry that maybe word got out about your little scene with Seunghoon that day, maybe Jisung got the wrong idea about you socializing with your ex.

You didn't think you would miss him so much, but you kept checking your phone to see if he had texted you and waited until late at night for a call but it never came.

Maybe Jisung could see right through you, under this facade you put on. Maybe he doesn't want someone as lonely as you, someone who needs his warmth to keep going.

You try distracting yourself with anything, staying after practice to train a new routine. After killing some time, you store the things you used for practice and go out.

When you're closing the gymnasium, you feel a familiar presence close to you, making you turn around with a businesslike smile on your face.

“How can I help… you?” You choke on the air you just breathe. “Jisung?” You ask, speechless.

“The one and only”, he chuckles seeing your shocked face.

“What happened?” You even struggle to speak.

He's the same, but different? His hair is shorter, fixed in a nice hairstyle and his clothes are fitting him perfectly, like they were custom made.

“Do you not like it?” He asks, worried, hands patting his body trying to understand where it went wrong.

“No, no!” You blurt out, fast. “I like it, you look really good”, you don't actually have words to describe how delicious he looks, he already had you hot and bothered before, what are you going to do now? It's impossible to not want to jump his bones right this instant.

“Then?” He waits for you to continue, taking a step towards you, making you instantly take a step back. You're not sure if you'll be able to hold yourself back if he gets too close and you don't want the first time you fuck to be in the school's locker room.

“Why did you change?” You ask, trying to think more clearly.

“I'm trying to become boyfriend material for you”, he grabs your hand, holding it with his. “I even made social media accounts”, he smiles.

“But you were already perfect”, you whisper it slowly, brows knit together. Did you make him feel like he wasn't?

He sighs.

“I heard what your ex said that day”, he says, biting his bottom lip. “I don't want you going out of your way to shield me from mean comments, I want people to envy you for dating me, the same as there are dozens of guys that hate me because I got you”, he tilts his head, waiting for you to process what he just said.

“As long as you're not uncomfortable”, you say, trying to find any sign of hesitancy on his face.

“Not at all”, he tells you, “Chan and Binnie helped me buy nice clothes that are comfortable. Also, if I become more popular, It'll help 3racha”, he shrugs.

“Okay”, you nod nervously, not really knowing what to do next.

“Are you sure I look good?” He asks, playfully, seeing the way you're avoiding his eyes. Jisung takes a step closer, making you take a step back once more just for you to bump into the closed doors of the gymnasium. “Oh? Why do I get the feeling that you are thinking about running away?”

“Pff, me?” You scoff, “of course not”, you shake your head frantically.

He tsks, reaching for your waist and wrapping his arm around you.

“You know, a strong denial is like an affirmation in some cases.” Jisung says, bending down to your height, brushing his lips on yours but before you can lose yourself on his hold, you lift your hands pressing them against his chest and pushing him away.

“Can- can you not?” You huff, you can't believe you're even stuttering, you almost gave in. Almost.

You ended up giving in and it didn't take him much to convince you. Jisung was driving and you were anxiously waiting to arrive home, a cold shower and maybe a sex toy would do the trick. Everything was alright until he put his hand on your knee, sliding it up and down on your thigh. Did he get a new personality together with the makeover? He knows exactly what he's doing because he has that damn smirk plastered on his lips.

You didn't change from your cheer uniform since you had no energy and just wanted to get home to anxiously wait for Jisung's contact and now you regret it. It feels a thousand times more painful to have his hands touching the bare skin of your thighs. Each time that his hand comes up it gets closer to your core like he's testing the waters to see where you're willing to let him go.

What he still doesn't seem to know is that you're more than willing to let him go all the way and as soon as his hand gets too close to your throbbing core, you hold your breath as if that could do anything to help.

Jisung plays with the hem of your safety shorts without a care in the world, like he doesn't have you all turned on and your panties are not soaked.

“Stop the car”, you say through gritted teeth.

He glances at you before parking, making you want to rip that shit eating grin off of his face with a punch.

“What's wrong?” He asks cynically, unfastening his seatbelt to turn to you, his hand still caressing your thigh.

“You don't want to go there, Han Jisung”, you tell him, grabbing his arm to try and force his hand to stop touching you.

“Don't I?” He smiles, biting his bottom lip. You look so sexy saying his full name like that and he gets the urge to make you moan it. “I think I do”

“I hate you”, you groan, reaching to grab his collar and pulling him to you, making your mouths crash in a hungry kiss. You missed having him so close to you, his free hand cups your face and Jisung deepens the kiss, feeling your tongue caressing his so eagerly.

His other hand is working its way into your shorts, he's desperate to feel you on his fingers and as soon as he manages to get his hands under your panties, he can already feel your wetness leaking out of your sweet pussy.

“Shit”, he groans, disconnecting his lips from yours. “Are you usually this wet? Or is it just for me?” He asks shamelessly, making your whole face turn red.

You keep silent, trying to breathe normally again. It's embarrassing, how can someone provoke this kind of reaction out of you like this?

He chuckles, a dark deep chuckle while he slides his hand to your head to pull your hair.

“Cat got your tongue, pretty?” He asks, kissing you on the cheek at the same time as he places two fingers inside you, making you whimper. He pouts, tilting his head. “I'm sorry, you are so wet I thought you could handle two”

“Oh”, you feel your breathing out of pace and Jisung starts moving his fingers in and out of you. “J-jisung”, you moan, feeling his thumb circling around your clit. His fingers work fast, in and out of your hole, feeling you clenching around them. You're so tight, he can't wait to feel you around his cock.

His hair is all disheveled, pretty pink lips half open watching you becoming undone right in front of him. You want to stop him, you don't want to give him the satisfaction of ruining you so easily, but he's so handsome, his eyes are looking at you so deeply just waiting for you to come on his fingers.

The moment your whole body trembles, you close your eyes to the pleasure spreading all over you. You glare at him, panting and dizzy, seeing him take his fingers out of you and taking them straight to his mouth, licking them like a starved man.

“You taste as sweet as you look”, he tells you, fastening his seatbelt and starting the car again, driving back to the road like nothing happened.

“What about you?” You ask, seeing his obvious hard on.

“I think we had enough fun for today”, he glances at you, winking. It makes you sink in your seat, feeling your face turning red and the butterflies in your stomach. Jisung hopes you didn't realize that he would cum with a simple touch of yours, if he had your delicate hand around him one more time he wouldn't be able to last long, even less if he could feel your sweet lips on his cock, so he chose to avoid that embarrassment.

You feel excited from the moment you wake up and as a person who doesn't like waking up early that's a very difficult thing to achieve. But when you opened your eyes, groaning and exhausted, you picked up your phone to turn off the alarm just to find a few texts from Jisung saying he would be coming to pick you up.

That definitely left you excited, so you jumped out of the bed, grabbing a towel and running to the bathroom to take a quick shower. After finishing your bath, you get your hair done and choose the cutest clothes you have in your wardrobe.

The moment you go out, you see Jisung waiting for you outside of your house. He's looking good, leaning on his car with his hands in his pockets while he waits for you to walk to him.

“It should be illegal for someone to look this nice at this hour”, you try teasing him, to see if you can make him flustered.

“I was going to say the same”, he answers, checking you out, shamelessly and you are the one with a red face in the end, so you just give him a peck on the lips, trying to hide your embarrassment while getting into the car.

The ride to school is calm, you're nervously anticipating how people are going to act when they see you two, when they see Jisung.

Everyone stops to stare at you, at the same time as you want to hide from the prying eyes, you understand. Honestly, if you saw Han Jisung walking around looking like that you would stop to stare at him too.

He holds your hand, interlacing your fingers and leading you inside, a huge grin on his face, proud that he got the reaction he wanted. This was his plan, he wants you to show him off, he wants you to feel proud to be by his side and more than anything, he wants everyone to know you're his now.

He leaves you in your classroom, giving you a goodbye kiss and promising to find you later so you can have lunch together.

“Who was that?” Mina asks, mouth agape.

“That's Jisung”, you tell her proudly.

“Well, how did you work your magic so fast?” Miyeon asks.

“Will you believe it if I tell you I didn't do a thing?”

“I guess just dating you is enough to change a person”, Mina jokes, making you roll your eyes.

“Should I take that as a compliment?” You ask playfully and she chuckles.

“I guess you'll win the bet more easily than I thought”, she says, sighing, pretending to be disappointed.

“Actually, about that I-”, you fidget with your hands, it's not easy for you to give up and after what you just went through with Seunghoon you surely don't want to admit that what you have with Jisung is more than you could anticipate, it's something special. “I want to call it off, the bet”, you finally say, making your friends exchange glances, confused. “I don't want to play games with him”, you finish, sitting by Miyeon's side.

“Well, I didn't think you would give up so easily”, Mina laughs, “you're such a softie, y/n”

You smile, remembering about Jisung's hands on you earlier this morning, trying not to blush too much.

“I'll win the captain title again fair and square”, you tell Mina, stretching a hand to her so she can shake it. “And about Seunghoon, I don't really care about him anymore”, you shrug.

Mina shakes your hand back proudly, she can see something different in you now and she's happy that maybe you're seeing in yourself all the potential she's been trying to convince you that you have for all these years.

You feel a little bit jealous. Now Jisung can barely walk more than three meters without someone greeting or hitting on him, you're pouting during lunch, playing with your food while he goes on and on about 3racha’s new track.

“Are you listening?” He asks, tilting his head while looking at you.

“I am”, you nod, even though you could barely understand what he was saying.

“You're acting weird again”, he sighs, lifting his hand to your chin and pulling your face so you can look at him. “Talk to me”

“It's nothing”, you are the one sighing now, “I'm just being stupid”

“Tell me then, I'll be the judge of that”, he pushes.

“It's just-” you can't help but sulk while talking, “Those girls were clearly hitting on you earlier and you didn't do anything about it”, you whine, “I'm being stupid because I'm not even sure what I wanted you to do in that situation, even so, I'm still feeling bad and angry”

Jisung can't hold back the big smile that grows on his lips, he leans closer to your face, supporting his elbow on the table.

“Is my baby jealous?”, he asks playfully, with a cute voice, making you pout even harder, crossing your arms.

“Stop that, I'm not”, you say, feeling your cheeks burning because of the pet name.

“If you're not jealous, then can I go and get their numbers?” He tests, making you glare at him. Jisung laughs, embracing you in a hug and kissing the top of your head. “In all seriousness, I didn't even notice they were hitting on me. I was so focused on just answering their questions so I could get the hell out of their sight, I'm sorry I made you feel bad”, he clarifies.

You sigh, wrapping your arms around him and relaxing in his embrace.

“Don't apologize, I was being ridiculous”

Jisung breaths out, pulling away from your embrace and cupping your face with his hands. He stares at you for a few seconds, trying to use the right words to speak to you.

“You should definitely stop invalidating what you feel. What you feel is not ridiculous or stupid”, he gives a peck on your lips, brushing his nose on yours. “You can always tell me about your feelings, I'll always listen to you. So don't say things like that, alright?”

You want to cry, you want to smile, you want to hug him and never let go. So you snuggle in his embrace, nodding and mumbling about how he shouldn't get too close to other girls, making him smile while he kisses the top of your head. What did you do to deserve someone like him?

After finishing your lunch you two get up, carrying your trays back to their place and talking about what ice cream you should buy since you have a free afternoon. However, when you cross the doors to the dining hall, you bump directly into Seunghoon, causing a minute of awkward silence between you three. No apologies, just your ex staring at Jisung like he's trying to win a staring contest or something like that.

“Long time no see, y/n”, Seunghoon smiles to you, as if you didn't basically tell him to fuck off a few weeks ago. “I see you're accompanied, I'm Seunghoon, a friend of y/n”, he stretches his hand to shake Jisung's.

“I know who you are”, Jisung says, shaking the other man's hand. The hostility in the atmosphere is palpable but before you can excuse yourself, Seunghoon's voice is heard once more.

“Y/N promised that she would go on a double date with me and my girlfriend”, he recalls, “now that we are acquainted I feel like we can set a date”, he smiles and if you didn't know him you'd think he's genuinely interested in having a double date with friends.

“Sure, just let me know the day and time and we'll be there”, Jisung answers before you have the chance to deny.

You watch as Seunghoon chuckles, nodding and giving his goodbye. Your stomach sinking in, you have a bad feeling about this.

“What was that about?” You ask Jisung, brows knit together in confusion.

“What was what?”

“Don't play with me, Han Jisung”, you roll your eyes, crossing your arms in front of your chest and he sighs, biting on his bottom lip.

Jisung may or may not have regretted it the moment he accepted without checking with you first, but your ex just makes him so mad. The fact that he's not at least a bit apologetic about what he did to you just doesn't sit right with Jisung, how could he break your heart and nonchalantly show up in front of you asking for a double date with the girl he cheated on you with. Fuck him.

“I'm sorry”, Jisung sighs, sulking. “I should have checked with you but I just felt so angry”

You stare at him for a moment, sighing. That sucks, it seems you can't stay mad at him for too long.

“It's fine, I'm sure he would bother us until we accepted it”, you say, grabbing his arm to force him to carry on your walk. “Shall we go shopping for some couple outfits today?” You smile at him, that's going to be his punishment.

Or at least it should have been, so why does Jisung look so excited with every piece of clothing you try on? He looks very happy to buy things for him but not nearly as much as when he's watching you.

You ended up buying a couple's pajamas and for the date — that Seunghoon didn't lose any time scheduling for Friday — you got a bracelet with a pendant that resembles a ferris wheel, the place you two kissed for the first time.

“Shall we go to the amusement park again?” He asks, raising your hand high enough for him to look at the bracelet.

He sees your eyes shine to that simple mention and he smiles when you nod frantically.

“There were so many rides we didn't get to go because it was too crowded”, you say excitedly, “We have to go on the roller coaster”

“We do?” He chuckles nervously, “that thing is kinda scary”

“Of course we do!” You stop in your tracks, making him look at you. “I'll hold your hand the whole time, so you have nothing to worry about.”

You say, confidently and oddly enough, Jisung feels really reassured with your words.

“Oh, you're my knight in shining armor”, he sighs dramatically. “What would I do without you? Hm?”

He uses the hand he's holding to pull you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist and pressing your bodies against each other. Jisung gives you a peck on the lips, smiling when he sees you blushing.

“You better always keep me close to you”, you tell him, avoiding his eyes. “So I can protect you”

“Mmn”, he agrees, snuggling his face in the crock of your neck, “I'll keep you always in arm's length”

The dreadful Friday arrives too fast, when neither you or Jisung wanted it to come. You try not to think too much about the way you're dressed, you don't want your ex to think you dressed up for him. Jisung on the other hand, wants to look his best so Seunghoon can swallow back all the things he said about you, knowing that you did in fact find someone better.

“Ready?” He asks you when you get into the car.

“Can't we just stand them up?” You ask, hopeful, while fastening your seatbelt.

“Let's just stay for thirty minutes, then I can pretend I received a call and we have to go”, he grabs your hand and kisses it, “how does that sound?”

“Sounds good”, you nod, smiling at him. But that damn feeling that something just isn't right keeps bothering you.

Jisung drives slowly, trying to avoid the unavoidable. It should be fine, nothing is gonna go wrong, it's just anxiety trying to make him paranoid.

Seunghoon chose a fancy restaurant, Jisung is only used to going to places like that when he meets someone from the label, together with Chan and Changbin. He doesn't really like fancy places, he wanted to take you there on a date because he thought that was something you would like but in the end you're not into that either.

“I should probably tell you right now that this restaurant is where Seunghoon asked me to be his girlfriend”, you tell Jisung as soon as he parks in front of the place your double date is supposed to happen.

“What?” Jisung asks, confused.

“I didn't want to believe before we actually arrived but I knew I recognized that address when you showed it to me”, you explain. “I think he just wants to brag, he'll try to get under your skin for sure. Maybe he'll try to talk about the time we dated, that would be a dick move since his girlfriend is gonna be there but he is a dick so I don't expect less from him”, you start to ramble nervously.

“It's okay, you're with me now”, he reassures you one more time, grabbing your hand and squeezing it, “we are gonna go there, hear whatever he has to say and in thirty minutes we are out and we can even go to a real date just the two of us”, Jisung tilts his head waiting for your confirmation and you nod, leaning closer and kissing him.

“That sounds great, you are great”, you tell him

Awkward, stifling, suffocating. Those are the words that better describe how the dinner began on that night. Seunghoon was late but his girlfriend was already there so you had to awkwardly sit there with the girl your ex boyfriend cheated on you with. You are a good person and you don't want to cause a scene, especially because you don't really care about your ex anymore so you feel a bit grateful to this girl who took that bomb away from you.

“I liked your stunt on the last game”, she says, sheepishly while picking on her nails.

“Ah, yes. We worked for three months to come up with that one”, you answer, sipping on your cup of water and cursing Seunghoon in your mind. Where the hell is he?

Except that when Seunghoon waltzed inside the restaurant, you knew exactly why he was late. The look of utter disappointment on his face told you everything you needed to know, he wanted you two to fight over him. You wanna laugh. Did he really expect to come in late just to find his ex and current girlfriend grabbing each other by the hair or yelling at each other? What a fucking loser.

He probably didn't expect to see Jisung's arms wrapped around your waist, leaning so close to you or the whispers and giggles that were never common in your relationship with him.

“Where have you been?” His girlfriend asks while he sits down but he doesn't even look at her, eyes fixed on you and Jisung.

“Something happened”, he brushes off, vaguely. “Let's order?”

You and Jisung exchange confused looks, nodding to him.

“Oh, this is the place where we started dating, right?” Seunghoon asks, after the waiter takes your order, pretending like he didn't know about it when he set the date there.

“Yeah”, you sigh, eyeing Jisung, already knowing where your ex was trying to go with that.

“You loved the pasta here, why didn't you order that?” He asks and you glance at his girlfriend who's glaring at him.

“I didn't like the pasta, you did”, you sigh, feeling Jisung's pulling you a little closer to him, making you look at him to see the man smiling at you. You release the air you didn't even notice you were holding and you realize how stiff your whole body is, why does Seunghoon make you so nervous? It didn't feel this way the other day when you met him by yourself. It's just that you have the feeling that he has an ulterior motive to this dinner, other than just bragging about his new relationship.

He looks mad at your answer, even more mad because of how close Jisung is to you. You used to be like that with him, grasping at the slightest bit of affection he would give you. He thought you would come back to him eventually, Seunghoon thought you would forgive him, would depend on him once more so why didn't you? Why don't you need him anymore?

“I heard something funny”, he grabs everyone's attention suddenly. “Heard that you're only dating him because of a bet?” He sneers.

Your heart stops at that moment.

“What?” You ask, immediately turning to Jisung who looks frozen, staring at Seunghoon.

“Yeah, one of my friends heard the funniest conversation in one of his classes”, he laughs, “I’m sure you already know about it, right?” He asks Jisung, raising a brow in amusement.

Jisung starts to shake, he can't look at you, not right now. But he also can't let Seunghoon win, it would be too humiliating for the both of you.

“Yeah, I knew about it”, he lies, feeling the least bit satisfied with the annoyed groan Seunghoon lets out. “I think you should start treating your girl better rather than taking care of y/n’s relationship”, he finishes, standing up. “I lost my appetite, let's go”, Jisung tells you, stretching his hand so you can hold it but his eyes don't look into yours.

Jisung doesn't say a word to you until he parks in front of your house and you were too scared to start the conversation but when he kept quiet even after ten minutes, only staring at the wheel in his hands, you couldn't take it anymore.

“I know I should have told you before, I-”

“So he was telling the truth?” He looks at you for the first time in the last hour and you wish he didn't, the hurt in his eyes makes your chest feel like someone is squeezing your heart. “You are low”, he spits.

You feel tears brimming in your eyes, you know you deserve that but at the same time you could never have imagined him treating you this way.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry”, the tears start running down your face, “it started as a bet but I called it off, I swear” you try grabbing his hand so he can look at you but he snatches himself out of your grasp, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking outside. He's afraid he'll cry if he looks at you, he's scared he'll give in if he so much as glances at you.

“I need to think”, it's the only thing he says.

“Jisung, please, hear me out”, you plead once more but he doesn't look at you.

“I don't want to hear anything right now”, he tells you, stretching his body over yours to open your door, waiting for you to get out.

You step out of the car, glancing at him over and over, expecting him to change his mind but he doesn't and you watch as the car disappears far away on the road.

You only let yourself cry after closing the door to your room, even though there's no one else home, you still feel like you need to lock yourself up so you can feel anything.

You're such an idiot, you should have told him about the bet but it was something so meaningless that it didn't even cross your mind that you should come clean to him, in your head everything that mattered was that you liked him and that you called the bet off but you didn't take into consideration that he would feel hurt about that and that's what hurts the most.

You always talk about how Seunghoon did bad things to you, that he didn't have any regard towards you, but did you have any towards Jisung? You waltzed into his life, put him in the spotlight and made him open himself to you, but you couldn't take the time to think about how hurt he would feel if he found out about the circumstances that made you like him in the first place.

You feel guilty about everything, you wish you could turn back time and change everything but you can't, you can't go back and you can't make it up to him, you have to wait for him to forgive you or in the worst case scenario, for him to dump you and that hurts too much.

Jisung knew someone like you wouldn't like someone like him just because you thought he was cute, he knew that there was something behind your sweet words and harsh moves on him but he chose to ignore every signal, every flag and every warning his mind pointed out because he wanted to believe you. Jisung wanted to let himself like you, he wanted to be the one to protect you, the one whom you would call on every minor inconvenience you run into but in the end, he should have been the one being protected from you.

He can't believe he let himself fall for you, why would you even like him? At least he thought you did, he thought you felt happy when you were with him. Lies, everything was a huge lie and he wants to punch himself for letting you make a fool out of him like that.

A week goes by without news of Jisung, you see him walking through the school's corridors but you're too scared to approach him so you just watch as he keeps his routine everyday, like nothing happened, like you were never in his life.

Mina and Miyeon are making shifts to stay with you, if they don't you won't eat properly and you only sleep when the exhaustion is so much your body can't handle it anymore. You're scared he'll end things, but you're ready to beg if he tries too, you know Jisung is worth begging for.

On one of the rare moments you find yourself alone, you try to stay away from everyone else who are not your close friends. You're hiding in the building where Jisung has his classes, in hopes that you can see at least a glimpse of his face.

“Where have you been?” You hear an annoying voice right behind you, making you sigh while you turn around to see Seunghoon with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “You disappeared after our double date, did your new boyfriend really know about your bet?” He chuckles, making you want to punch him in the face. This is all his fault, if he didn't open his filthy mouth to say those things to Jisung you could have come clean to him and maybe this whole incident could have been avoided.

“Fuck you, Seunghoon”, you lose you composure, not really caring about winning this one, you just want to curse at him. “You cheated on me and then you tried to ruin my relationship and for what? Leave me the hell alone”, you spit out, walking past him but before you can go further you feel his grasp on your wrist, forcing you to turn around.

“You used to adore me, y/n, you were supposed to forget about everything and just stay with me so why did you rebel?”

“Oh, for fucks sake, I never ‘adored’ you, I just treated you like a good girlfriend should treat her boyfriend even though you have never done the same to me”, you try shaking your arm away from him but he doesn't let go. “I'm sick and tired of you, let go of me right now”, you pull your arm again with all your strength but he's grabbing you so strongly it's starting to hurt.

“Let's start over, yeah? I'll be good to you this time”, he asks, like he didn't hear anything you said.

“I have someone I really like now, nothing you do is gonna change that’, you groan, feeling your wrist sore. “I don't want to have anything to do with you anymore, just forget about me”

“Why do you always make everything so difficult-”, he tries to drag you away from the prying eyes who are starting to watch the scene unfolding, but you feel hands on your shoulders steadying you in place. Jisung walks in front of you, pushing Seunghoon and forcing him to let go of you.

“This doesn't concern you”, your ex says through gritted teeth.

“If it concerns y/n, it concerns me”, Jisung answers.

“Just because you got a little popular you think you can come up against me?” Seunghoon scoffs, coming closer to Jisung, challenging him.

“You're an idiot if you think you can just grab someone's girlfriend like that and don't get in trouble”, Jisung says, “if you have anything to discuss with her you can talk to me first”

“Don't be ridiculous, we can talk like grown ups. Right, y/n?” Seunghoon tries to come to you, but Jisung grabs him by the collar.

“Don't even fucking try”, Jisung glares at him, “if you get close to her one more time you're not gonna be able to play your next game”, he finishes, letting go of Seunghoon and pushing him away from you.

Seunghoon huffs and puffs but he knows he can't get into trouble if he wants to stay on the football team, so he curses you for the last time before turning around and walking away.

“Are you okay?” Jisung asks, looking around.

“Yeah, I'm fine”, you say, stepping closer to him but that's when you notice he's not looking at you and he's not even trying to hide that. “Thank you for helping me”, stepping back and stroking your wrist which hurts like hell. You want to cry but it's not from the pain coming from there, it's from the immeasurable ache coming from your chest.

“It's nothing”, he sighs, “try not to stay alone for now, you should stop coming here too”, he says, nodding to you before he's gone, walking away from you. Leaving you there, feeling empty.

“Should I be worried?” Chan asks Changbin, as soon as he sees the number of empty cans thrown in the center table in the living room. Jisung is seated on the floor looking at the TV but clearly not watching, he's just staring at it with an empty gaze.

“He's been like that since yesterday”, Changbin sighs, leaning over the kitchen counter while watching his younger friend open another can of beer. “You would have know if you had come back home”

“So, on the only night I sleep in my girlfriend's house, Han turns into an alcoholic?” Chan asks, ironically.

“He's been weird for a few days, I think he fought with y/n”, Changbin says, “I knew there was something going on.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“I tried, but he won't answer my questions or just sighs randomly while I'm talking”

“I'll try talking to him”, Chan says, looking at his friend who just shrugs, going back to wash the dishes.

The older one gets closer slowly, sitting on the couch and looking at Jisung for a moment, trying to see if he'll acknowledge his presence but it doesn't happen, the younger one doesn't even move.

“Hey, are you alright?” Chan asks, but there's no answer to his question. “Look, you know you can talk to us about anything, right?” He tries again, but still receives no answer, so he snatches Jisung's beer out of his hand, receiving a frustrated grunt from his friend.

“Give it back”, Jisung finally lets out.

“Talk to me”, Chan pleads.

“There's nothing to talk about”, Jisung shrugs. He should end things with you, even if it hurts, that's what he should do, right?

“Clearly there's something going on”, Chan says, “I won't leave you alone until you talk and you know I can be really annoying when I want to”

Jisung sighs, he knows that very well.

“She only asked me out because of a bet”, Jisung says, “y/n, I mean”

Chan sucks through his teeth, that's not a nice thing to do. But he can't really judge her when he did something similar when he started seeing his girlfriend, so he'll have to play devil's advocate this time.

“She ended things with you then? Because the bet is over or something like that?” He tries to push to know a bit more.

“No, her ex told me”, Jisung says, continuing when Chan frowns in confusion, “he was trying to get under my skin so we would fight”

“What about y/n?”

“She said she called it off and that she likes me”, he chuckles, “I don't believe her”

“Why not?” Chan asks, still confused. “Look, Han, what she did is shitty, okay? That's not open for discussion, but why are you doubting that she likes you? Shouldn't she use this opportunity to get out of this relationship now that you found out about the bet? Why would she lie about it? It doesn't make sense”, Chan points out.

“Why would someone like her like someone like me? I'm no one”, Jisung cries out, he knows Chan is right but he just can't let himself fall for your trap again, he can't handle it if you break his heart a second time.

“Now you're only letting your self doubt talk, what do you mean you're no one?” Chan sighs, “you're a great friend, you're smart and you're part of 3racha, you're talented as hell, Binnie and I would be nothing without you”, Chan says.

“Yeah, but she's so wonderful”, Jisung sighs, “she's kind and smart, she's funny and cute, she's the prettiest girl I have ever got to know”

“Did she ever tell you that you weren't those things too?”

“No”, the younger one looks at Chan with puppy eyes. “But still, why would she make a bet to date me if I wasn't a loser?”

“You should ask her that yourself”, Chan shrugs. “You know I did some questionable things to date my girl and I'm not proud of that, but I love her with all my heart. In the end, maybe what's important is what's on her heart right now and not when it started”

When you receive Jisung's text telling you he wants to meet up, you feel relieved. He's finally gonna talk to you but at the same time you feel anxious, he's very vague about what you're going to talk about so you can't ignore the possibility of him ending things.

You set the date in your house, you don't want to go to a public place just to end up a crying mess in front of everyone there. So you wait patiently until Jisung arrives, you bite all your nails, clean everything that can be cleaned even though it's already impeccable, you do anything that can ease your anxiety and make you less nervous.

Three knocks on the door make you jump from the couch, running to the entrance and opening the door in a fast swing.

You missed Jisung's face, his round cheeks look smaller than the last time you saw him and the eyebags under his eyes are huge. You are no different from that, you know you lost weight since your cheer uniform is big on you and you're breaking out in pimples because of the stress.

“Hi”, you say, awkwardly, giving space for him to enter.

“Hey”, he answers, waiting for you to guide him to wherever you want to talk.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Should you have offered? It's something you always do when you have guests.

“I'm good”, he answers again. “Can we cut to the chase?” He turns to you, arms crossed in front of his chest. That doesn't sound good, he doesn't look like he forgave you.

“Yeah”, you nod, bracing yourself for what's to come.

“Was everything a lie?” Jisung asks, biting his bottom lip. “Was anything you ever said real?”

“Yes it was, almost everything”, you take a step closer to him but he takes a step back, not ready to be so close to you yet. “Everything started as a bet, I wanted to make someone better than Seunghoon so I could make him jealous”, you sigh, feeling like an idiot.

“It was your idea?” He asks, staring at you.

“No, it was not my idea but I accepted it anyway”, you shake your head. “I know it's stupid, I know it is. But I fell in love with you and when I realized I didn't want to hurt you I called the bet off”, you explain.

“And when was that?”

“Three weeks ago”

He sighs, walking around for a minute, trying to think.

“How am I supposed to trust you now?” He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to rationalize, trying to find an excuse for you, so he can forgive you.

“You are-”, a sob leaves your lips as soon as you start talking, tears running down your cheeks, you didn't even notice you were crying. “You're the first person who ever showed me what love really is”, you try to explain.

“So, do you like me or do you like the way I make you feel?” He whispers, eyes pleading for your answer to not destroy the little bit of hope he still has on you.

“I like y- I love you”, you try holding his hands once more. “I never thought I could love someone the way I love you, Jisung. I love everything about you, I sleep thinking about you and I wake up thinking about you. When I'm eating something nice I always ask myself if you already ate or if you would like what I'm having. When I'm out having fun I always wish you were there with me. Whenever we go to different classes I miss you immediately and I count every second so I can see you again”, you squeeze his hand. “I’m not asking for you to forgive me right now but please don't leave me, please stay with me”, you plead, feeling the tears running down your face.

Jisung's heart breaks from listening to your cries and sobs, he wants to save his pride and leave you for good. But he can't, Jisung is so in love with you right now that even the thought of staying away from you hurts much more than how he hurt because of what you did.

So he kisses you, his hands cup your face as usual, like nothing ever happened, like you never stayed apart. You missed his warmth, his lips, his hands on your body, everything.

“I missed you”, you tell him, wrapping your arms around his waist, ready to never let go again.

“I missed you too”, he sighs, “and I love you too”

“I'm so sorry, I swear I'll never do anything to hurt you ever again”, you grasp his shirt, bringing him even closer to you.

He knows he shouldn't feel reassured by your promise, how could he? But he does, he's just stupid but that's the effect you have on him.

You sit together and you tell him everything. Why you started a bet and why you chose him, when you started to like him and why you didn't tell him about the whole situation before.

You also talk about how terrible it was for the both of you to stay apart for so long, how you were ready to beg him to forgive you and that made him laugh, that's something he could never imagine you doing.

In the end you're both exhausted. Days without sleeping properly finally come back to bite the both of you on the ass so you invite Jisung to stay over, needing to stay close to him more than usual. You two stare at each other for a moment while laying down together, you can't even believe he forgave you and that he's there with you.

Jisung brushes off the strands of hair falling over your eyes, caressing your cheek before leaning closer to kiss you for the last time before the both of you give in to the deep slumber that's waiting.

“I love you”, he whispers when you close your eyes, making you smile like an idiot.

“I love you too”, you say back to him, letting yourself fall into unconsciousness.

When the light coming through the windows hits your eyes, you start waking up, slowly trying to look around just to see a sleepy Jisung with his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. He looks pretty even when he's sleeping, pouting a bit while he breathes quietly.

You can't hold yourself, so you lean closer giving a peck on his cheek.

“Hannie, wake up”, you whisper seeing his eyes flutter and his pout grows bigger.

“Just five more minutes”, he asks, pulling you even closer to him.

You sigh, deciding to let him sleep but when you try to get up the hold he has on your waist gets stronger.

“Where are you going?” He asks, opening his eyes.

“I was going to make some breakfast”, you say, watching him shaking his head and snuggling closer to you.

“No, I don't wanna. Stay here with me”, he whines.

“But what are we gonna eat?”

“We can order something”, he kisses your cheek, trailing kisses to your mouth and then to your neck, biting and sucking on the skin making you giggle and squirm in his embrace.

Jisung chuckles, kissing you. It's a slow, familiar kiss, one of his hands cupping your face and the other holds your waist pulling you closer. You put your hand on his hip, trying to find stability because you feel dizzy with his scent and his lips on you.

He parts the kiss so you both can breathe, but he keeps landing pecks on your jaw, neck and collarbone. His hands land on the rem of your shirt, he looks at you waiting for your permission and you nod, watching as he instantly pulls the piece of fabric out of you. Jisung bites his lower lip, staring down at your breasts, you look so beautiful he thinks that maybe he died and went to heaven.

The man leans closer, licking on your hard nipples, making you suck through your teeth, feeling his hot breath hit on your cold skin.

“Fuck”, you mutter when he bites lightly on the spot. Jisung chuckles, feeling your hands grabbing on his arms and your nails gripping on his skin. He keeps going down, leaving warm and wet kisses down your stomach, finding the waistband of your pajama pants and giving a kiss on both the sides of your hips before pulling the piece of clothing down.

He stares at your panties for a moment, it has bees printed on it and that makes him laugh.

“Do you like bees that much?” He asks, pulling the fabric down while he watches you squirm in embarrassment. You didn't think you'd have sex first thing in the morning so you didn't bother changing to something more sexy. You slap the palm of your hands in front of your eyes, covering your face. “You're cute”, he says, pulling your underwear down and kissing your right knee, then the left, “and so pretty.” You take one of your hands out of your eyes just to see Jisung staring right to your core. He's getting comfortable on the bed, positioning your legs over his shoulders while he grabs your hips with his hands to keep you in place.

Jisung doesn't lose time, kissing the inside of your thighs before licking your pussy, a long and wet strand that makes you immediately want to close your legs but his hands won't let you move. He slides one of his hands in between your legs, pressing a digit over your clit and then inserting the same finger inside you. Jisung sucks on your clit, circling the bud with his tongue while you stare at him, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth with so much strength it could draw blood.

“I can't get enough of your taste”, he says, using his free hand to clean around his mouth, licking his fingers soon after. “Can you handle another finger, baby?” He asks, cockily while you throw your head back, nodding frantically.

Jisung inserts a second finger, going back to suck on your sweet pussy, he feels like he could cum just by eating you out. His hip starts moving by itself while he searches for some friction, humping on the bed.

“Sungie”, you let out, hands landing on his head while you pull it closer to your cunt. “I'm close”, you squirm, feeling his tongue working faster and his fingers reaching places you never could. The knot on your stomach keeps growing until you feel like seeing stars, your legs shake uncontrollably and you moan loudly, eyes screwed shut.

Jisung groans, satisfied, it's so good to feel you cumming in his mouth, he could stay between your legs forever.

He trails kisses back to you, kissing your lips with such hunger you're not sure where it's coming from. You can feel your taste in his mouth and that only adds to the arousal you are still feeling even after an orgasm.

You look at his swollen lips and disheveled hair, thinking he's the prettiest man you have ever seen in your entire life. Your hands go to the rem of his shirt and in a swift move, you get it out of him, staring at his upper body like someone starved. You smirk, pushing him down so you can lean over him, doing the same as he did to you and trailing kisses down his jaw and neck, chest and stomach, until you see the path to your happiness. You pull his pants down, underwear going together, his hard cock springs hitting on his stomach, the head leaking with pre-cum, making you lick your lips, salivating just with the thought of all of that in your mouth.

You look at Jisung, he's waiting patiently for you to do something, anything and you like the feeling of having him in that place, wanting to be satisfied by you. You lean over, licking at his shaft from the base to the head before putting everything inside your mouth.

You can't feet all of him, so you grab the base stroking it up and down on the parts your mouth can't reach.

“Oh my god”, you hear his whimper, smiling to yourself because you're the one provoking that reaction out of him. You keep sucking on his cock, looking at him, Jisung has his head thrown back, lips slightly apart but he struggles to keep watching you, the image of you sucking on him is just too much for him, you're just too sexy, he can't handle it.

Jisung can feel his release approaching, he taps on your shoulder trying to catch your attention while you're so concentrated in sucking him off.

“I'm gonna cum”, he manages to let out but rather than stopping, you suck him even harder and stroking his cock with more resolution. In a moment you feel his hot cum spreading all over your mouth, making you smile while you swallow everything, opening your mouth and showing your tongue to him.

You come closer to him, kissing him the same as he did to you and he can feel his taste on your tongue.

“Fuck, you're so hot”, he says as soon as he splits the kiss between the two of you.

“It's all for you”, you whisper, leaning close to his ear. Jisung smiles, you're going to make him go insane.

“Do you have any condoms?” He asks, hastily, grabbing you by the hips and making you sit on his lap. You nod, leaning over the nightstand to open the drawer, showing him the package.

“But I'm on birth control”, you tell him, blushing. You never asked to be fucked raw before, you and your ex always used protection even though he protested a lot about it. “I'm clean, I got tested after I found out about the cheating”, you complete. It would be embarrassing if Jisung refused but it doesn't hurt to ask. All you want is to feel his cock inside you.

“A-are you sure?” He asks, correcting himself when you tilt your head in confusion, brows knit together. “I mean, are you sure about not using protection?” He completes and you nod.

“I trust you”, you kiss the tip of his nose, making his heart flutter. Just the thought of fucking you raw managed to make his semi erection turns into a full hard on in a second.

“Okay”, he nods, throwing the package away while he sits down. Jisung gives a few strokes on his cock before you position yourself over him, he puts the tip on your entrance holding his breath as soon as he feels your wet walls around him. “Shit, you're so tight”, his hands land on your hips, helping you go down on his length.

It hurts a little, he's bigger than average so the burning sensation is not surprising to you, even though you were well prepared it still is an intrusion.

“You're the one who's big”, you tell him, biting on his shoulder as soon as you manage to fit all of him inside of you. You stay still for a moment, catching your breath. When your hips start moving it feels so good, it's almost indescribable, the amount of places he can reach is ridiculous, you want to have his cock inside of you all day.

Your pussy is just so good, Jisung can't help gripping your hips more tightly, encouraging you to move faster. He thrusts his hips against you, spitting on his fingers and sliding his hand down to your clit, making circles there while he watches you riding him with your eyes closed shut, feeling your high closer and closer. He's no different, your flattering walls squeezing him are too much for him, he feels like he can cum anytime now.

Jisung kisses you, feeling you moan loudly against his lips, you grip his shoulder burying your nails on his skin and that only makes him crazier. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, going deeper inside of you. You throw your head back, not able to hold in any longer. Your moans are music to Jisung's ears, he's sure he can cum just by hearing you so it's no surprise when he reaches his orgasm, shooting his seed inside you.

“Fuck”, he groans, movements faltering. You watch as he leans on you, head resting on your chest. That's what's necessary for you to cum and you are almost not able to breathe normally after the intensity of that orgasm.

Jisung helps you lie down on the bed, getting comfortable by your side while he snuggles himself close to you.

“I love you”, that's what he says, looking at you with loving eyes and there's nothing more running through his mind other than how much he loves you.

“I love you too”, you giggle happily, giving a peck on his lips. “I'll need a whole day to recover from this, though”, you tease.

“What do you mean? You better be ready for another round”, he answers, smiling and kissing you. You better brace yourself.

[End]

———

A/N: If you like what I write please reblog or let me know in the comments, feedback gives me motivation to keep writing.

Taglist: @rockstrhanji @angelsquid @feelikecinderella @realrintaro @bomi-ja @sasiiidumpling @itshannjisung @whyisaah @weareapackofstrays @kkamismom12 @soonie1010 @bberymi @minleemin @ayejaii

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hyukalyptus · 2 months

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yes, please — soobin x fem!reader | est. relationship. NSFW/MDNI!

cw. idol!soobin, nonidol!reader, chubby!reader, jiggle, talks of his abs, reader wears lip gloss, tiddylover!soob, slight exhibitionism, kissing, pet names (baby, love, good boy), some choking, mouth covering (with a hand), dacryphilia, cunnilingus, fingering, licking, soobin tastes sweaty and reader likes it, unprotected sex (pls don't do this), soft dom!soob, nipple play, spanking, creampie, lmk if there are more. notes. smut under cut. wc. 3.2K

“Can you stop?” you ask Soobin sitting on the couch across from you in a small dressing room. Still catching his breath and wiping sweat off his forehead from the concert, he runs his fingers through his damp hair.

“Stop what?” He asks, not looking up from his phone.

“Stop being so pretty.” You bite your lip. “You’re driving me crazy.”

Flashing you a knowing smirk, he asks, “Am I?” He leans forward on the couch, his hand sliding up your thigh feels like someone poured oil on your body and lit a match. The squeeze he gives it is especially too much, making tingles run throughout your whole body. Meeting his gaze, your faces are inches apart from each other while you noticeably glance down at his lips. Those perfectly pillowy and pink and heart-shaped lips that always beg to be bitten and kissed.

“Well, you were when you were wearing that pink sparkly, velvety thing, but now…hm,” you lean back, crossing your arms. “I’m not so sure this is doing it for me,” you say, looking over his post-concert black t-shirt and shorts—which, let’s be honest—is doing it for you. He doesn’t wear shorts often, but when he does, your tummy does backflips.

“You know you love this outfit,” he smirks, rolling your chair closer to him. It takes everything in you to keep from wrapping your legs around his hips right then and there, but you're not giving in yet. Well, not fully. You can’t stop your fingertips from gracing his thigh. “I know you love my thighs.”

That jerk.

His eyes roaming your face, he lingers on your lips, but still. You’re not giving in. Shrugging, you nonchalantly lean back against the chair, crossing your legs.

“Fine,” he chuckles. “If you really don’t like my outfit, then,” he shrugs, unlocking his phone again. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do to help you." Crossing one leg over his other knee, his shorts ride up, exposing his thigh. Deliberately moving his t-shirt to the side, he exposes his collarbone, making your breath hitch.

He thinks he’s so slick.

“I know what you’re doing,” You roll your eyes. “It’s not gonna work.”

Refusing to look at you, he says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, babe.” His voice is sweet as honey despite his obviously evil intentions. Maybe not evil per se, but certainly not sweet-as-honey intentions.

“Hm.” You bite the inside of your cheek, eyes floating across his broad shoulders and collarbone. You practically salivate thinking about the saltiness of his skin after shows. The muscles in his arms are more defined from performing and his veiny hands are screaming at you. You just want them around your neck.

As you stare at his hands, his fingers stop tapping the screen of his phone. He peeks at you through the hair that fell in front of his face, but his eyes quickly shift to his phone screen when he notices you looking. Resting back against the couch, he takes a deep breath, scrolling through his phone again.

“It’s kinda hot in here, huh?” You ask smugly, lifting your sweatshirt off, the thinness of your tank top barely covering your bare chest and hard nipples. Stretching your arms above your head, you push your chest out, catching his eyebrows raise, but he’s not giving in either.

No matter how tempting your full, bouncy, and jiggly your tits are. No matter how absolutely squeezable they look. No matter how much he wants to feel your hard nipple against his tongue.

He’s not giving in.

Walking to your tote bag in the corner of the room, you bend so your ass faces him, your jeans hugging your curvy hips perfectly. You search for your lip gloss before gliding it over your lips, completely ignoring how obviously he’s ogling at you.

Damn, those lips would look so pretty wrapped around his cock, hm?

Looking over your shoulder, he changes his attention again, acting like he wasn’t staring at you.

“You okay, babe?” you ask. He presses his lips together, exasperating. He looks so cute when he’s flustered. All blushy and smiley and dimpley.

Striding over to him, you rake your fingers through his hair, tracing his jawline, swiping a thumb across his perfect bottom lip. His mouth stays open by itself as you say, “You seem kinda…feverish.” His breath is heavy again, his eyes looking up and down your body, tracing every bump and curve.

He whispers your name.

“Yes, babe?” Bending over, your shirt hangs off your chest, giving him easy access to look at your bare tits being deliberately pressed together by your upper arms.

He swallows hard, looking up at you through his eyelashes and stutters, “You, uh, you dropped your phone.” God, he loves your tits. Always have. Always will. They fill his big hands beautifully. They taste delicious. They bounce gorgeously when he fucks you in missionary.

“Ah, thank you, baby,” you smirk, picking it up, showing off your ass again. He slides down the couch again, blowing air out of his nostrils. While he reaches for a water bottle on the coffee table, you plop back down in your chair. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure,” he says, inching closer to you, clearly puckering his lips. He knows how much you love them. He even goes so far as resting an arm above your head, pulling his shirt up to show off his toned stomach. Geez, he really is being obvious today.

“I just wanted to say,” you start as he attempts to slyly move his shirt up, exposing more and more skin. “I can see what you’re doing.” Pulling his shirt down with an eye roll, you continue, “Anyway, as I was saying.” He stretches, rubbing his tummy— “Are you trying to seduce me with your tummy?”

“You’re the one that loves my tummy,” he says, holding his hands up.

“It is really cute,” you giggle, your cheeks turning rosy.

“Cute?” He asks, fake offended.

“Sorry, sorry. It is really sexy,” you correct yourself, tracing a finger over his muscles. “So you are trying to seduce me?” You smirk. Opening his mouth to say something, nothing comes out and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Well, you were trying to seduce me with your booty.”

“You were doing it first with your—” you say, pulling your tank top to the side to expose your collarbone.

“And what about your oh, Soobin, it’s so hot in here,” he mimics your accent, stretching his arms above his head, pushing his chest out. Then he pretends to put lip gloss on with an imaginary applicator. “You look kinda feverish,” he says, making kissy noises.

“You’re the one who threw your thighs at me!” You giggle. “You know you have dancer’s legs.”

“Well, you threw your boobs at me,” he says. “You know you have…boobs.”

Rolling your eyes, you say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I did not throw my boobs at you.”

“Oh really?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Oh really?”

“Oh yeah,” you smirk, your gaze lingering, eyeing each other up and down. “Do you wanna have sex or not?” He looks at you innocently, his eyebrows barely raised.

“Yes, please.”

“Then get over here, boo,” you giggle, holding your arms out to him. He stands from the couch, swiftly locking the door. Striding closer to you, he lifts you into his arms, running a thumb over the apple of your cheek before pressing his lips to yours.

Those perfect lips you’ll never get enough of. They’re soft and smooth and mold perfectly to yours. They were made for you.

Holding you tighter, he slowly turns both of you, pushing your back against the door roughly, a gasp leaving your lips. His hand snakes into your hair, pulling your head to the side to trail his lips down your neck. Pushing your shirt up desperately, your chest is exposed, his mouth immediately finding your nipple.

Crouching lower, he kisses your belly, a warm, fuzzy feeling flourishing inside while his lips linger at the top of your jeans. Unbuttoning them, his nails dig into the squishy part of your hips, dipping his fingertips into your waistband. Pulling your jeans off your legs, he throws them behind him.

“Aw,” he chuckles and you look at him questioningly. “These are cute,” he says, running his thumb over your lilac panties covered in tiny blue butterflies, complete with a little bow on the front. Your cheeks turn bright red.

“Soobin—” you exhale. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not,” he smiles, glancing up at you from between your legs, kissing you on the outside of your panties, your hands pulling on his hair. “They’re really cute.”

“Please, babe…” you whisper.

“You’re begging now?” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “You have to be quiet.”

After pulling your panties down, he flicks his tongue over your clit while you rush to cover your mouth to muddle your moans, your eyes squeezing shut. Sliding a finger inside you, he chuckles at your desperate attempts to stay quiet.

Fuck, he gives such good head. And he knows it too. He knows how much this drives people crazy. How good he can make someone feel with just his mouth.

Licking his finger clean, he reaches up to squeeze your tit, forcing a grown out of you. Someone walks right outside the door, and you panic, glancing around the room. Hands suddenly restless, his tongue never stops flicking your clit, drawing you right back in.

Trying to control your movements and noise, your back arches and little whimpers sneak past your lips. You can’t help it. He’s way too fucking good at this.

There’s a knock on the door. You gasp quietly, covering your mouth again and look down at him. He holds a finger up to his pouty smile slicked with your wetness and he shushes you, your heart racing. They knock again, but his tongue returns to your clit, making the challenge of staying quiet impossible.

“Soobin?” The person outside says, jiggling the door handle, your breath shallow at the thought of them walking in on you. He ignores them, squeezing the widest part of your hips, increasing the pressure of his tongue.

Pulling his hair to force him to look at you, you raise your eyebrows, tilting your head toward the door. Standing, he whispers, “It’s fine. Just stay quiet, okay?” Pressing his lips to the sensitive skin right below your ear, his breath on your neck sends shivers down your spine.

It takes everything in you to admit this, but you whisper, “I think you should go.” Your chest heaves, but he just shakes his head, covering your shoulder in sloppy kisses, relief running through your veins.

It’s his decision at this point.

“At least fuck me against that wall,” you point your head in the direction of the wall across you. “I think it’ll be obvious from the outside if you fuck me against this door.”

He chuckles, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Lifting you into his arms by your fingertips, he presses you against the wall opposite of you, massaging your tits. Attacking you with his lips, your chest warms and your shoulders relax at his touch. He pulls away from you, tugging at your bottom lip, making you giggle with him, fingers fumbling with the waistband of his shorts.

He pulls his shorts down to his thighs, gliding his hard cock over your pussy. Your arms instinctively snap around his shoulders, pulling him closer as you sink your teeth into his shoulder.

“Call me crazy,” you sigh, looking into his heavy eyes, glancing down at his swollen lips. “But you always taste so good after shows,” you whisper, dragging your tongue across his collarbone, his chest shaking with his chuckle. Tongue covered in his sweat, salty and mineraly, and absolutely delicious.

Holding your leg in his arm, he uses his other hand to cover your whimpers as he slides inside you, not giving you the usual opportunity to adjust to the feeling of him. You simply feel too good right now. But of course—

“Feel okay?” He asks under his breath, always ensuring you’re having as good of a time as he is. He still refuses to move his hand, only looking for that gentle nod you give him. But he can’t resist kissing you.

Moving his hand from your mouth to your cheek to pull your face closer, he presses his lips to yours again, kissing your furiously, moaning against your lips.

Pulling on his hair, you whisper, “If I’m not allowed to moan, you’re not allowed to either.”

“Fine,” He chuckles. “No moaning.” Thrusting into you deeper, he circles your clit with his thumb, making your head reel. You gasp, biting your lip to keep the no moaning deal you just made. Pressing his forehead to yours, your shared breath on each other’s lips, his thumb moves to circle your nipple, the teensiest, tinsiest moan leaving your mouth.

Narrowing his eyes at you, he shushes you again and you roll your eyes, your hand snaking into his hair, gently tugging at it. As soon as he’s gotten used to not moaning, you pull his hair hard. Gritting his teeth, he hisses, making you giggle.

That would usually draw out an embarrassingly pathetic, utterly sexy moan from him, but— “Aw, you’re being a good boy and controlling yourself tonight, hm?”

His smile drops, his eyes turning dark as he pulls out of you to turn you around. Quickly pushing your chest against the wall, he thrusts inside you again.

“Fuck—” you start, but he shushes you harshly. Looking over your shoulder, he eyes your body up and down, thinking about something, but you just don’t know what. Pulling out of you as quickly as he pushed inside you, he turns you back around and lifts your leg to slide back into you.

“I need to see your face when you come,” he says.

There’s an edge to his smile. Your leg that’s still on the ground shakes from holding yourself up for too long, your head is spinning, your chest is on the verge of exploding.

Then he wraps his fingers around your throat, pressing your neck with your fingertips gently, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

The pleasure is too overwhelming. How deep he is, his hand on your neck, your tits bouncing to the rhythm of his thrusts. All of that paired with the fact you’re not allowed to make any noise is killing you. The corners of your eyes start to burn.

A few tears stream down your face and he slows his movements, loosening the grip on your neck, looking over your face, noticing the sparkle of pleasure in your eyes, the satisfied smile on your lips. He whispers in your ear, “Do I feel that good, baby?” You nod, pressing your hand to the outside of the one around your neck, silently telling him to tighten his grip.

He picks up speed again, kissing your tears away.

“So good,” you say, managing to keep it at a whisper as your eyes squeeze shut.

Reaching a spot deep inside you, you grit your teeth, your head falling back against the wall, pulling his hair harder than you ever have to let him know how close you are. Lifting your shirt frantically, his tongue finds your nipple while you rub your clit in circles, desperately chasing your orgasm.

The fire in your stomach builds faster and faster, sparks flickering all the way to your toes. His fingers wrap around the back of your neck, pulling your face closer to his, touching your foreheads together.

Your walls clench tighter around him while he covers your mouth with his palm, his deep, dark eyes meeting yours to tell you to come.

He finally pushes you over the edge, coming hard around him, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Muscles tense and aching as he fucks you through your orgasm, sending shocks of pleasure throughout your entire body.

Catching your breath, he moves his hand to let you smirk at him, his eyebrows furrowed, still focused on chasing his own high.

Burying his face in your neck, he kisses you over and over again, steadying your breath, a low groan coming from his throat. Lifting up to look at you, he says, “You feel—” But before he can finish his sentence, you cover his mouth with your hand.

“You gotta be quiet, baby…” you giggle as he drops his forehead to your shoulder.

“Come here,” he whispers, pulling out of you, bending you over the armrest of the couch and you shake your ass for him. He gives you a loud spank and you turn around to narrow your eyes at him gritting his teeth and eyes widening. “Oops.”

Pressing your lower back, he pushes himself inside you, legs shaking underneath him. He reaches the speed you know he likes, gripping a handful of your hair, holding back his moans. The grip he has on your ass tells you he’s close.

Whispering little encouragements as he chases his high, his hips stutter against your ass. With a few final thrusts, he says your name, twitching and bucking his hips as he finishes inside you. The tight grip he has on your flesh releases as he comes down from high high.

Slowly sliding out of you, he lifts you so your back presses his chest, kissing your shoulder.

Turning around and resting on the armrest, you pull him closer as his chest heaves, catching his breath. He presses his forehead to yours, his breath gracing your lips before he gently pecks them, warmth bubbling in your stomach, rushing to fill your body.

Swaying side to side, he kisses your forehead. His eyebrows furrow, pressing his lips together, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs before he asks, “You okay?”

“Of course,” you answer, pecking his lips. “Why?”

“You were crying.”

“Yeah,” you giggle. “Because it felt so good. I thought you knew that?”

“I thought so,” he nods. “I was just making sure. It did kinda scare me.” He pouts.

“Aw,” you wrap your arms around his neck. “I’m sorry.” He smiles, shaking his head. “Thank you for choking me, babe,” you say sweetly, trying to lighten this slight awkwardness. He’s still a bit unsure about you crying, but he knows it’s one of your things. It does turn him on knowing his cock brings tears to your eyes, but it can still be a shock sometimes.

“Thanks for pulling on my hair,” he says, turning to pick up your panties and jeans. When he hands them to you, there’s a glimmer in his eye that makes you feel like the only person in the world that matters. You love that he can do that. That he can make you crumble underneath him to the point of tears, then look at you and tell you he loves you without saying a damn word.

After getting dressed, he’s gathering his things, singing songs under his breath. You hug him from behind, your arms wrapped around his waist.

“You were so sexy tonight, babe,” you say, laying your cheek against his back.

“I know,” he says proudly, wrapping his hand around your forearm. He turns around, looking down at you with the cutest, sexiest eyes. “Thanks for coming everywhere with us. It has been so much fun having you at all our shows.”

“Ah, really?” you giggle. “I was worried I was kinda getting in the way.”

“What? No, of course not,” he says. “You’d never be in the way.”

#hp's writing 🪲#soobin smut #soobin hard thoughts #soobin hard hours #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #choi soobin #chubby reader #soobin x reader #soobin ff #soobin fic #soobin fanfic #soobin x chubby reader #kpop ff #kpop fanfic #kpop fic #kpop smut

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cursingtoji · 9 months

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a friday night for most mid twenties should be more exciting than yours, but you wouldn’t exchange yours for the world, not when you could order your favourite meal for dinner then cuddle with nanami watching a reality show he swears he doesn’t like but doesn’t miss an episode either.

“what a bitch” he gasps when it’s revealed the guy’s fiancé had a secret boyfriend, you hold back your laughter from his exaggerated reaction. his hand is on your back, rubbing it and playing with the elastic of your shorts without any malice while you lay on his chest.

after the episode ends he kisses your temple and gently rolls you over to remove himself from the couch.

“don’t go to bed too late” he says moving to the bedroom.

“yeah i’m going right after this one” you reply as a new show starts.

as promised, an hour later you stretch your back and turn off the tv moving to your shared suite and going straight to the bathroom.

“kento?” you call from the toilet, where you kept the door open, he hums in acknowledgement, “what time am i supposed to pick up yuuji from megumi’s?” you flush and go wash your hands and face, already beginning your skincare nightly routine.

“i’ll do it, don’t like the way fushiguro flirts with you” you look up from the sink watching him through the mirror, his reading glasses are on the tip of his nose and he licks his finger before turning the page of his book. such an old man…

“he’s just being friendly, love, besides it’s not like i flirt back” you justify.

“i know, i trust you, just don’t like him. megumi is a good kid though” you hum agreeing with your husband.

with a dot of retinol on the tip of your finger your walk barefoot to his side of the bed, leaning close to his face and gently applying the product under his eyes and where his wrinkles would be in a few years. would, since you’re trying your best to include a little bit of wrinkle prevention in your husband non-existent routine as well.

nanami doesn’t move his head, allowing you to put cream under his eyes, soft fingers tapping the skin behind his glasses, he said he trusted you but he close his eyes just out of precaution.

“i think that’s enough tapping, darling” he holds your wrist gently.

“just making sure your skin absorbs it well. in 10 years i don’t want people to think you’re my father” he watches your pretty ass march back to the sink in order to brush your teeth.

“i thought you liked calling me daddy” he resumes his reading listening to you choke, “everything alright in there?” he asks nonchalantly.

“y-yeah, just… caught me off guard with that, kento” he hears an additional ‘thankfully yuuji is not here’ and as soon as you’re done you apply some lip balm and brings it to him as well.

“no, that’s too glossy” he stops you.

“gojo uses this one too” he knows you say this with the intention of telling him it’s not too feminine but he now despised the little tube even more, “bad argument sorry” you hold his strong face and pepper his lips a couple of times to transfer the lip balm on your lips to his “there you go”

“that’s low even for you” he protests but doesn’t rub it off.

you make your way to your side of the bed, laying on your stomach with your head at the end of the bed catching your phone and scrolling through socials. your husband’s hand naturally finds the back of your thighs, rubbing the skin of your legs softly while reading.

“i scheduled my wax appointment for monday” you try to justify your cactus-like legs.

“you know i don’t mind” indeed, he keeps rubbing the back of his hand on your calf, finding comfort in the way your barely grown hairs trickle his skin, you murmur something about him being too good to you and focus back on your phone.

nanami finishes a chapter and quietly closes his book, he now pays full attention to you and the privileged view he has of your ass and the cute underwear peaking from the hem of your tiny shorts.

“darling? i think my lips could use a bit more of what’s on yours.”

#as you can see i desperately want to be his wife #nanami fluff #nanami x reader #nanami x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #domestic nanami #kento x reader #jjk fluff

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f1byjessie · 3 months

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A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part two.

Friday evenings are typically spent in the comfort of your flat. Normally, you’re half paying attention to reruns of whatever shitty reality TV happens to be on and half scrolling through social media to keep up with the ever-fluctuating trends of content as per your job requirements, all the while eating your body’s weight in takeaway. It’s not the dream, but it’s certainly a dream.

Tonight, you plan on amending things to include going through the pictures of Bali’s stunning beaches that Lando’s been spamming you with throughout the day, but beyond that, you have no intentions of deviating further from your norm.

You’re actually really looking forward to it. Though you’d rather cut off your own hand than admit it to his face and give him new ammunitions to tease you with, you miss Lando during the winter breaks. So much of your year is spent having him nearby━ a near-constant presence buzzing with the inability to slow down let alone stop━ and when he isn’t around, the silence seems louder. There’s no one else who manages to annoy you the way he does, and it’s just not the same without him.

To make matters worse, between your new job, Lando’s travels, and the scheduling conflicts that have arisen in turn, you haven’t had a chance to catch up with him beyond a few back-and-forth messages about his current escapades. So you really, genuinely, truly are looking forward to it.

Garrett Ward throws a wrench into things.

You have mixed opinions of Garrett. He can be very sweet, and he’s gone out of his way to make you feel incredibly welcome in your first week with the Manchester City team. He makes good conversation and seems genuinely interested in what it is you’re doing, often asking questions about your equipment and process, which is a nice change of pace from most other clients you’ve worked with in the past who rarely give two shits about anything beyond the final product. But his reputation is… concerning.

Garrett Ward is infamous in English tabloids for being a notorious womanizer.

There are several articles that come to mind, but the most damning of which is from 2019, before his trade to Manchester City, detailing with very incriminating photos how he’d been seen entering a club with two women and then leaving just a few hours later with a completely different pair. You don’t want to assume he’s the same man now as he was back then, nearly a full five years ago, but you’ve been working in the sports industry long enough to know that athletes can have anyone and if they want then they will have anyone━ there is no shortage of temptation.

And you are not arrogant enough to assume you would be the outlier.

Which makes his interest in you feel less like friendly curiosity and more like something you need to be wary of.

It’s also why━ as you make the trek through the Etihad Campus car park━ you feel dread begin to pool in your stomach as you answer your ringing phone. “Hi, Garrett.”

“Y/N!” He exclaims excitedly, sounding like he hadn’t just seen you barely ten minutes ago in the weight room. “I meant to catch you before you left, but you were outta there so fast I wasn’t able to.”

And there’s probably a reason for that, you want to say, but you hold your tongue. “Yeah, I usually try to be pretty quick about it.”

There’s an awkward pause left open as if he expects you to say more, and when you don’t he clears his throat. “Erm, well, I was actually just calling to see if, perhaps, you would like to grab dinner with me this evening.”

You don’t. At all. It’s one of the last things you would like to do. There are plenty of other hellish things you would willingly rather subject yourself to before sitting down and sharing a private meal with this man━ jumping into the Thames is one of them, and letting Lando drive you around on the autobahn in his Spider is another. Both could very easily result in death, permanent disfigurement, or any other number of horrible outcomes, but neither includes Garrett.

Your hesitating silence must be an answer enough for him, because he chuckles again and adds on quickly, “No strings attached, I promise. It’ll just be two friends getting dinner.”

All you want to do is get cozy on your couch in your pajamas with a kebab from the place down the street and watch pretty people deal with their pretty people problems on TV. You don’t think that’s too much to ask for, but apparently, some higher power does.

“I suppose that’d be alright then,” you agree tentatively, speeding through the stages of grief as you mourn the initial plans of your Friday evening━ the easy, simple, comfortable plans. “Shoot me a message with the time and place and I’ll meet you there.”

“Awesome!” Garrett cheers. “See you later then.”

The peaceful silence that awaits you after you hang up feels like it’s mocking you. Too bad you can’t flip off silence.

“Look, the truth is, City is looking at trading me at the end of the season if I can’t clean my act up.” Garrett’s voice is quiet as he admits the reality of his future to you, but it breaks the silence of the world around you like a gunshot. “And not just loaning me out━” he adds, a twinge of something akin to anger noting his tone, “━but fully trading me. They’re saying that my image makes things too hard for them and the only way they’ll consider re-signing me is if I can either keep my name out of the tabloids or try to clean myself up.”

In Garrett’s defense, he technically did hold true to his promise of just two friends getting dinner. Things were actually going quite well, too. The restaurant was a little more high profile than you would’ve expected for a casual meal, but that can easily be passed off as the luxurious lifestyle and expensive tastes of a pro athlete who can certainly afford it. Expenses of your meal aside, he’d been good company, asking after the ways of working in Formula One and then finding similarities in his football career that made it easy to chat about the struggles and stressors of professional sports.

But you can recognize that this is where it’s all beginning to go downhill.

He’s announced it completely out of the blue as you’re walking back to the garage where you’ve both parked your cars. On top of that, his pace slows and you’re forced to slow down as well to match it until you both eventually come to a halt in the middle of the pavement.

You feel for him, in all honesty. You understand the difficulties of contract negotiations and how easily they can fall apart. The fragility of Formula One contracts is its own special brand of tricky and you’ve seen many friends move on to other teams in the blink of an eye just as they’ve begun to settle down and make their mark where they are. You can’t say for certainty that you understand the mechanics of football contracts to the same degree, but you can imagine they have their own fragile fine print.

But the chill of a January night in Manchester is brutal, and you’ll be the first to admit that your outfit does not protect against it. You don’t really want to be having this conversation in general, because you’ve known Garrett for all of a week which makes you acquaintances at best, but you especially don’t want to be having it now, out here in the cold when all you want to do━ all you’ve wanted to do since this afternoon━ is curl up in something warm and comfortable and pretend the world outside your flat doesn’t exist for a few days.

“I’m not sure what this has to do with me if I’m being honest, Garrett.”

He shrugs. “I just thought you might be able to help.”

You shove your hands in your pockets in a desperate attempt to keep your fingers from going more numb than they already are and shake your head at him. “I don’t know how exactly you think I can help you with that. I’m a photographer, not a PR officer.”

“My agent thinks it would be a good idea if I showed the media that I could hold down a steady relationship. Prove to them that I’ve changed my ways, and have matured.” He shrugs again, nonchalant despite being the one to bring this up in the first place.

“Have you?”

He makes a face, something between a flirty smirk and a suggestive wink, “Well, I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Garrett.”

“Look,” he crosses his arms and levels you with a look that fills you simultaneously with more rage and annoyance than a single person has ever made you feel before. “It would just be for a couple of months, and then we could stage an amicable breakup and that would be that! It just has to be long enough to show everyone that I’m not the same as I used to be.”

You give him a look right back, hoping it conveys how appalled you are by his audacity. “Okay, but why me of all people? Christ knows you probably have a list of women in your contacts who would jump at the chance to pretend to date you for a few months.”

His face pinches up in disgust. “Yeah, but they’re all former hookups, and I mean, they’re kinda psycho about me to be fair. If I tried to end things, they’d probably go to the tabloids themselves and smear my name with the worst things they could come up with.” He shrugs again, and you’re starting to find that you hate it when he does so. “I need someone willing to just play along for the time being and who will be discreet when things are over.”

“And you think I’m that person?” You scoff. “You’ve known me for a week!”

Your voice echoes and it reminds you once again that you’re having this conversation in the middle of a random street in Manchester. It’s cold and dark, and you’ve been attempting to bite back your frustration since the moment Garrett called you. You’ve been as nice as you possibly can be for this man, shy of bending over backward to worship the very ground he walks on, and you’re so close to your limit that you think if he shrugs one more fucking time━

He shrugs. “Well, yeah, but you know how this industry works. So I know you can be trusted.”

You take a deep breath to try and retain what’s left of your quickly slipping composure, before you say, “Garrett, this goes beyond unprofessional. I could potentially get into a lot of trouble for this. You’re technically my co-worker, if not my client by proxy. It’s not a good look for me to be getting with the athletes I work with, considering my entire career is based on working with athletes.”

He makes a befuddled face as if asking what that has to do with anything. It occurs to you that he’s probably never had to worry about the ethics of hooking up with someone when most of the women who are interested in him would do everything in their power to spend a night by his side whether it’s morally just━ or legal, for that matter━ or not.

“That doesn’t seem to stop you from being all cozy with that Nor-whatever guy,” he grumbles.

“What?”

“That driver,” he repeats. “You post him all over your socials, like, all the time.”

You tear your hands from your pockets and throw them up in the air, “Because that’s my job?!” The stupidity of the man before you is genuinely baffling. He’s been asking about your job all week long but the way he’s talking now makes it seem like he didn’t catch onto the fact that your entire career is centered around media and the creation of content made with the explicit intention of being shared.

“I am quite literally paid to take and post pictures of him per my contract with McLaren,” you continue. “And even if I wasn’t, he’s my best friend?! I’ve been working and traveling and spending the majority of my time with Lando since 2019 so of course I’m going to be close with him. Do you not post your mates every once in a while?”

“Yeah, but it’s different. All my mates are guys, so nobody thinks I’m dating any of them when I do it.”

You scoff in disbelief. “I cannot believe this right now. You know, for a moment, I briefly considered helping you. But you’re actually exactly the type of prick the tabloids say you are.”

He takes an intimidating step closer, and his voice drops an octave lower. “I would reconsider if I was you.” You’re not short, but Garrett isn’t either. He’s one of the tallest players on the Manchester City team, and the way you feel now with him staring you down makes you wonder if this is what it feels like to be his opponent on the pitch.

It’s fucking terrifying.

But you’re fucking livid, too.

Your jaw clenches and you bite out sharply, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“What it means,” he starts, “is that if you don’t help me, maybe I slip a word about something or other to my boss who slips a word to his boss who is, also, your boss, and suddenly, whoops!” He gives you a cocky smirk, so sure of himself that it makes you feel like your blood is literally boiling. “He’s not your boss anymore. In fact, nobody is your boss anymore, because your ‘slip in conduct’ was very inappropriate and made several players uncomfortable, which doesn’t look very good when trying to get jobs elsewhere in the industry.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Well,” he fucking shrugs. “When you say it like that, yeah. I guess I am.”

You cross your arms, your hands clenched into fists so tightly that you can feel your nails digging painfully into the flesh of your palms. “You’re a real bastard, you know.”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that, love.”

If only it were legal to kill a man━ Garrett Ward would be six feet under and picking worms from between his teeth.

You weigh your options, though. You’re not sure how much weight his word actually carries. For all you know, he could tell his boss, they could bring you in to discuss things, and then you could explain it all from your point of view. Garrett is a notorious flirt and you doubt it’s the first time he’s tried to pursue someone who isn’t interested in him. You doubt it happens very often, but it has to have happened at some point. Not to mention, his reputation regarding women is bad enough that Manchester City is already giving him an ultimatum, so you probably have a chance, and the worst-case scenario is that you amicably part ways with the team and that’s that.

But realistically there is a worse worst-case scenario, and it’s pretty damn close to what Garrett is threatening. Losing this side gig wouldn’t really be too much trouble. It would put a dent in your savings, and you’d have to be a bit better about how you ration out your groceries and other necessities around the flat, but losing your job at McLaren? Being blacklisted from the industry entirely? That’s life-destroying. You would lose everything━ all the blood, sweat, and tears you shed to get where you are would be for nothing.

All because of a prick in sky blue.

“Fine,” you utter from between gritted teeth. “I’ll help you. But I won’t post you on my account. I won’t bring you home to my parents. I won’t go round to your flat and I certainly will not have you round to mind. You get one kiss to make it official to the paps, and then nothing more.” You take your own threatening step toward him, and a vindictive part inside you shines with malicious glee when he shifts ever so slightly backward. “If you try anything else, I will run to the papers and drag you through the mud worse than any of your little psycho groupies ever could.”

He scoffs, “You’d ruin your career.”

“But I’d tear you down with me,” you reply.

He takes a moment to think, staring into your eyes and weighing how serious you are. Whatever he sees staring back at him must be convincing enough because he sniffs, nods, and smirks.

“Deal.” He leans down, “I think I’ll be taking that kiss now. Make sure to really sell it, yeah?”

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre

━━ a/n: i feel like i say this every time, but i am seriously blown away by how well the first part of this was received! like, seriously, thank you so much for the kind words everyone said about it! hopefully this second part lives up to the hype of the first, it's a little denser, but the events are important to establish for the rest of the story so it needed to happen!

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #social media au #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 #oscar piastri

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adventuringblind · 25 days

Text

Teach Me Part One

Max Verstappen x Reader Part Two

Genre: hurt/comfort (2.7k words)

Summary: Max helps our protagonist through a journey of sexual discovery. You know - after she's been assaulted... Don't worry though, he's got her (and her virginity).

Warnings: Attempted r@pe, BDSM in the wrong way, then it gets better, lots of discussions, Virgin reader, softdom Max, toxic ex, dom/sub, alluded to smut

Notes: I hope this is what le requester was looking for! I tried my best to get everything and I think I did! Really hope you like it and that it brings you comfort!

Side Note: My inbox is open if you wanna come chat with me because I'm going insane over here...

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

Trust is something most people underestimate the power of. Trust is sitting on a chair and thinking it will hold you. Trust getting in your car and knowing it will get you to work and back.

Trusting people is harder than trusting inanimate objects. It’s easy to come back from a chair breaking or a car randomly stopping. Humans take the trust of others and stomp on it. They treat it like a toy; something to be thrown away when they are done with it.

She did trust once. She tried to give someone her love. It didn’t work out for her, and made her struggle to trust anyone after that.

Max swings her legs back and forth on the counter. GP had come in not five minutes ago and told him to get down. But Max is like a cat, and refused to get off.

She sits in a chair in the office area, preparing for debrief. Her fingers crossed it goes longer because that means right to sleep with her. Her boyfriend won’t have any reason to keep her up. Not when she has a race tomorrow.

“Any plans for after the race?”

Logically, there is no way Max doesn’t know her plans. They’ve grown up together; her and Max against the world.

She shrugs. “I’m not sure. Probably just hanging out with my boyfriend.”

“Boring, you should come out with the team!” The warmth on his features makes her want to melt. She’d much rather be with Max. Her relationship hasn’t been going well for some time now and she’s been trying to find something to repair it. Because she can’t bring herself to leave. He’s guilted her into staying; the fear of being alone outweighs wanting to leave him.

“If I could find something to do with him, then maybe it would be less boring.”

Max Waves her off after the race with a grimace. She knows he hates the guy, but he also doesn’t even know the full extent as to why she hates him. Why she can’t stand being around him for longer then she has to.

She’s alone in the room for a minute. Her boyfriend is still in the shower for the time being, meaning - she has time to indulge herself.

It’s a stupid interest, really. Max had brought it up in passing; something he’d tried with partners. The one problem with being Max’s friend? His astute lack of knowing when enough information has been given. Still, the details of his experimentation through the years left her wanting to know more.

Her recent search history has been her own exploration into the world of BDSM. It’s a stupid thing to look into considering the male she’s with isn’t the nicest about sex. No, he’s tried to coerce her a few times now. He comes to races with the intention of trying to get in her pants. It’s just not something she wants yet and she’ll continue to let him fuck her throat if it means holding him off from taking that piece of her until she’s ready.

She’s caught up in her own thoughts, mindlessly scrolling something mildly more explicit. “Watcha looking at?” The obnoxiously placed male on the bed tries to crane her head to look at her phone.

In her panic to hide the screen, she fumbles. His hands snatch it away from her and begin scrolling where she had left off. “It’s nothing-”

“Actually, this is something. Is this all it takes to get you to let me in finally? Would you like to be owned?”

She would like to tell him no. She wants to explain what she wants is to feel safe with someone; enough to let go for once. “Just something I was curious about, is all.”

“Whatever - don’t expect me to stick around much longer then. Maybe this will help us get back to where we were.”

She ends up with a bruised throat the next morning. Her peace offering to him since he was adamant about getting something from her.

What she was not expecting the next morning to be woken up stuck to the headboard. Her wrists hurt more than her throat and the fear clouding her brain makes it hard to tell what’s really happening. She tugs at it, only to be stopped by a familiar set of hands. “Isn’t this what you wanted? I figured I’d indulge you.” He sounds nonchalant about all this. She’s not sure if that makes it better or worse. “Just relax, yeah? I’ll take care of you.”

It’s the way he’s eating her with his eyes. The sinister tone in his voice. She doesn’t want to be here. The more she tries to relax, the more she ends up panicking. His touch on her skin hurts more than she wants to admit.

“Would you stop squirming?”

“No!” She pulls harder at the stupid restraints around her wrists. She pulls until her hands start to slide out, bloody and burned, but it’s enough.

The second she’s free, she’s flipping them. They wrestle as she attempts to flee, eventually able to slip her way around him and out the door.

She’s barefoot, disheveled, her long shirt barely covering her ass. Not bare, thankfully, but pretty close to it. The adrenaline kicks in and she sprints to Max’s room three floors up and prays there is nobody around. Grateful for the early hour in the morning that this has occurred.

Her knuckles hit the door with a bruising force. “Max! Max please open up! Max-” The door opens and she tumbles inside. Nearly hitting the floor, but Max’s quick reflexes are there to steady her.

She clings to him, sobbing, the fear of what might have happened to her hitting like a punch to the gut.

Max ends up getting her stuff for her. She can’t stomach the thought of ever seeing that man again. Let alone attempting anything intimate.

Max lets her stay in his guest room for the time being. He doesn’t push for her to talk about it. Not yet at least, but she knows he’ll get impatient just like the rest of them. He’ll kick her out when she doesn’t give him what he wants.

Max finds her out on his balcony four months into their new living situation. It didn’t help that winter break happened three weeks after the whole ordeal. It’s nice solely for the reason they drive for the same team. Otherwise, she’d hate being left here to wallow in her own self pity.

Max sits himself on the side across from her. “Wanna talk about what’s going on in your head? I miss seeing you smile.” She can tell he’s nervous, his lip biting from childhood never went away.

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

He’s worried; can clearly hear it in his voice. He wants to know that she isn’t going to do anything crazy. “What happened, I guess.”

“I’m here. If you ever want to talk about it - I’m here.”

Maybe it’s the thought of Max having defended her for years now, or the safety she has always found with him. “It’s really stupid.” She drops her head into her knees.

“Can’t be if it’s making you upset.”

“He saw something I wa looking at on my phone the night before I forced myself into your room-”

Max’s eyes go wide. “Alright, the only stupid thing about that is you thinking you forced yourself on me. You can come to me whenever and I’ll open the door.” He gestures for her to continue after his interruption. “What was on your phone?”

This is the part where she runs if things go south. “Itwaslikesexstuff…”

“Sex stuff?” Well, her original plan has failed. How he could have ever understood that is beyond her.

“The - the kind that - you talked about?”

His cheeks turn a bright shade of crimson red. “Curiosity, I presume?”

“If you count the last two years as a curiosity phase, then sure.”

“I’m - I’m so sorry.”

She blinks at him. The words are barely sinking in as she watches him rub his palm against his neck and jaw. “Why are you apologizing?”

“Because I sent you - unknowingly, sure - down a rabbit hole that can be dangerous if you don’t know where to look.” His sad demeanor makes her want to hug him. “Was it something related to BDSM stuff? I swear if he hurt you I know where he lives still-”

“Max please-” The laugh raging through her is pathetic. “-As much as I’d love to see him get his ass handed to him, I think I’ll be okay in time. He didn’t rape me. Close to it, but I managed to get away.”

“Oh fuck! Your wrists were busted! I should’ve known.”

“Yeah well, I guess it gives someone else the opportunity to take my virginity-” Well, cats out of the bag now. She had meant it as a joke, something to lighten the mood. Now Max is gaping at her and she’s not sure how to feel about it.

He slides over to her; their knees now knocking together. “Someone else, huh? Have anyone in mind?”

“Had someone in mind for ages, but he wouldn’t feel the same.” Because he’s seen the worst of her. There is no way Max could ever love someone like her. Someone who struggles with intimacy-

“Try me. Because I think anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“What about you?”

“Especially me.”

It’s a month after that where Max brings up the subject again. They’ve kissed and cuddled, but nothing aside from that. She has tried to suck him off. Her mindset being it would appease him for the time being but Max had refused. ‘Not until you are doing it because you want to, not because you think it’s your job.’

She wanted to lay there and cry. Which she might have, but fell asleep at some point. The subject hadn’t been brought up again until now. At the breakfast table of all places.

“So, out of curiosity, are you still curious?”

She drops her fork out of surprise. “I - I mean… yes? But I’m not sure I want to go through that again-”

“Nope, never. What he did was wrong, plain and simple.”

“But isn’t that what it is?”

“It is about trust and safety. I’m going to assume you didn’t have a safeword?”

No, because they didn’t even talk about it. She just woke up tied to the bed and was told to stay still. She settles for shaking her head no. Overwhelmed by the severe lack of anything that Max is talking about.

“If you want, we can take things at your pace, yes? I’ll show you what the bastard should have done.”

And if that didn’t pique her interest, she doesn’t know what would. “Yeah I - I think I’d like that.”

Max takes her out to dinner a week later. Her favorite, as usual, since it’s also his favorite (another perk of growing up together). He’s terribly sweet to her the entire night. Which isn’t that big of a change from normal - but Max is sassy and won’t hesitate to throw a sarcastic insult her way.

“Are you alright if we talk about some things tonight?” He asks on the car ride home. “I would like to get a feel for what you might want to try in the future so I can research a bit.”

“Yeah - yeah sure.”

Max collects her into his arms on the sofa. The stubble on his chin prickles her skin while he leaves playful kisses. The notebook he has resting on his (and hers by proxy) knee is flipped open to a blank page.

“Okay, first up is safe words.”

“To be fair, I know what they are and why they are important. He just didn’t talk to me about anything first…”

Max hums. “And we’re still gonna talk about them!” He giggles when she groans. “Hey! This is the safety stuff I was talking about. Do you know the traffic light system?”

“Green is for good and red is for stop…”

“And yellow is for?”

“Pointless, is what I’ve read.” She shrugs.

Again, Max gapes at her. “On the contrary, yellow could just mean something doesn’t feel right or you need a minute to breathe. Not a full stop, but a slow down.”

That makes more sense now. Curse the internet! She probably should’ve made sure her information sources were credible to begin with. “Yellow means wait a second.”

“Secondly, it’s usually good to have multiple safewords. Red is one and the other I use is Mercedes.”

She can’t contain her laughs. Nearly falling out of Max’s lap as she clutches her chest. “Mercedes?!”

“Think about it! If Mercedes becomes a normal bedroom topic then we may need to rethink some things.”

“Fair point, but it’s still a bit funny!”

“Next thing on the list is how I personally like to conduct a scene.” The smirk plastered on his face makes her want to curl up in a ball and hide away.

“Is it not the normal way?”

“To be fair - there is not a normal way. It’s just how I’ve come to enjoy setting things up prior. Like discussion beforehand is always a must.”

“Like what we’re doing now?”

“Exactly!”

They end up talking for hours on end. Into the morning until they are both passed out on the couch. Needless to say they don’t get any further than that.

More daycare spent simply talking about it. Max takes care to make sure every detail is talked about. It’s the small things that she hadn’t even thought to consider earlier on.

It becomes safer just by talking about it. Like Max has somehow made it less scary. Which could also just be because he keeps talking about safety.

She explores in the way she is comfortable with. Small touches here and there, a bit of oral when she can manage. Max checks in with her almost too often. Specifically when she’d like him to keep his tongue where it’s at. He laughs at her frustrated huffs. They do the non-sexual side of things more often. Sometimes he takes things into his own hands, getting her on her knees. Nothing more than what she’s willing to do.

It’s when she wins a race, high on adrenaline and soaked to the bones in champagne, that she feels the desire to go further.

She attempts to jump Max’s bones when they are finally back in their hotel. “You don’t want to go celebrate?”

“Can’t I celebrate with just you?”

“You certainly can, but I plan on taking my time if we’re doing this tonight.” The post race gravel in his voice has her swooning.

“Please Max? I want you.”

“I’m going to ask you if you’re sure a million times regardless.”

He pulls her in for a gentle kiss. It turns heated and eager quicker than anytime before. Her need to get her desperation across has Max pinning her to the wall. She squeaks in surprise, having not seen it coming.

“Someone is eager tonight.”

“Are you going to make me beg for it?”

“Not tonight, another time though.”

He taps the bottom of her thighs. He lifts her like she’s nothing and sets her on the bed gently. “Shall we review?”

“Green for go, Yellow for slow, Red or Mercedes for stop.”

God is he beaming at her. His knuckles caress her jaw. “Good girl.”

Gone, she’s so gone for this man it’s not funny anymore. Not when he talks to her like that.

Max takes care of her, runs his hands across her body and makes her shiver. He strips each article of clothing like she’s the most delicate thing he’s ever touched.

“Color?” He says while leaning over her with no clothes between them.

“Green.”

The next morning is fuzzy. She’s not sure if it’s because she and Max were up until the early hours of the morning, or because she’s sore in places she didn’t know could be. It’s unreal how good she feels; how loved and wanted.

She wants to stay here, frozen in this moment, watching the sun soak into Max’s skin. He’s breathtaking; always has been.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Max cracks a smile and stretches his arms out around her.

“You’re a dork.”

“Ah, but you trust me enough to be your dork. Specifically yours; all this dorkiness is for you.”

She rolls on top of him. “Hey Max?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks - you know - for teaching me and making it special.”

“You deserve is schat. I’m glad you trust me. That's a big honor and I’m grateful for it.”

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victoria-grimesss · 4 months

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Can I request smut headcanons of how Astarion (she didn't want him to feel obligated to help her so she intended to do it alone), Gale, Wyll, and Halsin react to accidentally overhear his fem s/o masturbating while saying his name? She isn't aware that he was there since he was busy earlier!

masterlist

->Warning: light smut, teasing

->A/N: MDNI! so sorry this took so long writers block hit me hard but I hope this fills the request alright.

->Astarion:

Your relationship was built on mutual trust and care for one another. Although it may have started with ill intentions you both have nurtured and built a steady foundation for years to come. Part of that trust was respecting Astarion's bodily autonomy and helping him work through his trauma. You wanted to give him space and time to be comfortable in the bedroom, well... tent. The air was thick and you had woken up with a familiar flutter in your chest. A problem easily solved on your own but not sufficiently eased. The tossing and turning, you feared, would wake Astarion (he needs his beauty sleep). Your hand would move downwards, your other moving to your mouth to keep yourself quiet. But the scent of him surrounding you, him next to you and you wearing his shirt was too much. You could hardly stifle the sounds that came from your mouth, your mind replaying every lingering touch of his, his teeth on your neck, and the words he whispers when you're both alone. His name escapes your lips only once when you are trying to reach your peak but your hands are just not enough. Astarion’s meditative sleep is disrupted by your ceaseless movement, and he wakes with annoyance before he sees the state of you, utterly delicious. It's not a secret what you were doing, your face red from the tips of your ears down your neck and slipping down the valley of his shirt you wore. His teasing would be relentless, "I'm hurt, have I truly not satisfied you enough that you had to result to such a solitary method?" His voice is deeper from the sleep he was in, hair hanging in his face. He would feign hurt but that devious smirk on his face would say otherwise. "I just didn't want to bother you, make you feel obligated to engage." The air in the tent would be hot, he would get closer and closer to you until his lips brushed your neck, he could hear how your heart was racing from the proximity. "Darling, I admire your chivalry, truly, but I’d rather be the one touching you if it’s all the same.” His hands would dance their way from cupping your cheek to leaning you back into the bedroll fully. You had awoken the next day blissfully satisfied, a bit more bloodless, and sleep deprived but it was well worth it.

->Gale:

You would both be settled in his tower long after the events of the tadpole. The sun would be setting and he had arrived back from his favorite tomes shop, his arms full with scrolls and books galore. His mind was so focused on getting everything to his study until he passes by the bedroom door, the only sounds being the waves of the nearby sea and you.. saying his name in a rather breathily manner. He grows warm at the sound, some of the scrolls and books toppeling to the floor. This would usually be followed by him hurrying to pick them up but he sets the rest on a nearby foot-stool. He clears his throat before knocking on the bedroom door, even though it’s his own bedroom door as well. He hears a gasp from within the room and the movement of the blanket before you usher him in. “Gale. I-um. I didn't expect you back so soon. You’re usually gone the whole day when you head to the shops.” He nearly groans at the sight of you, you’re flushed and sweaty. Hair a mess and clearly you were enjoying yourself. He wishes he could cast invisibility and watch as you pleasured yourself. For another time. He shifts, a bead of sweat running down the back of his neck. “I-” “You” You both speak at the same time and then stop. He motions you to speak first. You giggle and speak, “You know, you don’t have to knock in your own home.” He runs a hand through his hair, eyes a shade darker as he looks to you. “I didn’t want to intrude on your personal time my love. It sounded like you were enjoying yourself. Although I have to admit I felt a bit left out.” His breathing is heavier and he slowly approaches you, the sunset that bounces off the sea and into the room casts an otherworldly glow and he wishes he were an artist so he could paint the vision in front of him. You offer him your hand, “Then by all means Mr. Dekarios, please join me.”

->Wyll:

The camp was empty besides you, you had been put on strict bed rest after a nasty fight with some undead the last time you and the team were out so you were alone and bored and upset because you were obviously better despite Wyll’s protest. You swear a feather could grace the side of your face and he would carry you back to camp. Although you love him all the same, his caring nature and adventurous spirit bringing you together but right now you just felt pent up after being still for so long. The sound of the nearby river calmed you some but restless you remained. You thought more of Wyll, and more… His chivalry, endless loving words of encouragement, that one time you snuck away to the river..discarding your clothes on the rocks as you both delved behind the waterfall and soaked in the whole night together until the stars turned to sunrise. Suddenly your hand had snuck down the front of your stomach and lower until you reached underneath your undergarments, gasping at the feeling of relief. It was far and few between when you could help yourself since you were always out. You began divulging yourself further into your fantasies. Picturing you with Wyll together in a large castle, bedroom big enough to be laughable and a bed laid with satin sheets and intricate tapestry. Being able to enjoy eachothers company without the threat of death or tadpole explosion at every corner. He would ravish you on every piece of finely crafted furniture in the castle until you were forced to stop by pure muscle exertion. You were so deep in your mind you didn't hear your own name being called from the camp, nearing you rather fast. You quickly remove your hand, now frustrated on another level from your missed climax just as the flaps of the tent move and Wyll’s stare is on you, a worried look on his face. “You called?! Are you alright? Gods you’re flushed and can hardly catch your breath should I call Shadowheart?” He’s frantic and has convinced himself that you’re in the active stages of death. “Wyll!” He stills at your voice, “I was simply, taking care of myself..” You trail away and his face shifts from concern to confusion. “Healing your own wounds is hardly advisable. We have many fine healers in camp. Let me fetch one of them for you.” “Gods you are dense sometimes for being the savior of Baulder’s Gate.” You grab him by the shirt before he can leave and his lips meet yours before he’s crawling on top of you. “Ohh, you sneaky devil.” His smirk is downright devious as he swears to untangle all your knots and worries.

->Halsin:

You need air, the camp was downright suffocating now with the amount of people it contained now. You were forever grateful and indebted for all of your allies but you needed some time alone, desperately. The clearing to this meadow was the place you always came to clear your mind, far enough away to be secluded but still close enough to be safe from any wanderers. Halsin had been occupied when you left so you couldn't ask him to come with you to your disappointment. But alas you can handle your little problem. It was a warm day and seeing Halsin’s strong arms glisten with sweat and water did little to cool your burning desire that seemed to get worse as the day went on. He was so kind and sweet to you, showing you the bounty that nature can provide. He had fought by your side for some time now and your relationship had only blossomed since then. You felt your tension slowly melting as you caressed yourself thinking of the two of you in the meadow together, against a tree, the forest floor in the rain. Any way he could take you, you would have him. You didn't even notice the volume of your voice had carried all the way to his ears at the camp, he was especially attuned to you, your sweet pheromone carried him to the clearing where he saw you laid back against a bed of clovers, surrounded by an array of multicolored flowers. A goddess in his eyes you were. He stalked to you, drinking you in with each step. The sound of his name on your lips drawing him in, his urges barely contained. He cleared his throat, finding himself standing at your feet. Your eyes shot open, trying to cover yourself and maintain your modesty. “Do not fear my heart, you have called and here I am.” You don’t say anything for a moment, utterly embarrassed at being caught in such a way. “Halsin, I didn't want to bother you, you were quite busy after all.” He laughs lightly, still scanning your body. “You are my priority, when you yearn for me, I yearn for you all the same. All you must do is cast me a glace and I will take care of you.” He starts to remove his shirt, “May I take care of you?” His voice is deep, his broad frame casting a cooling shadow upon you. You shiver, he stiffens. “You may. Only if I may show my gratitude back?” He smiles and drops to his knees before you, hands parting your legs as his kisses more from your bent knee and moves lower and lower. “By all means my heart, the day is young afterall.”

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wegc · 4 months

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All of this perv! Talk is getting me 🫠🤤

I love the way you write Chan but how do you think the other boys would be as pervs

I feel like Han would be the nastiest perv

Seungmin would be secret like taking upskirt photos and stuff

Minho would be possessive as hellll

But let me know what you think, doesn’t need to be a full think if you want just some thoughts

Love the work you put out, can’t wait for more!🧡

If it’s available can I be 🧡anon?

first of all, thank you so much🥹

and YES omg, i agree with you completely. jisung and minho (i think) would be the nastiest and would be the only two with absolutely no shame in what they’re doing (especially minho hehe).

jisung holds first place for panty stealing and shows no remorse when he encounters you looking for them! i can picture him purchasing a cute gift box that contains all your stolen underwear—articles of cotton and lace fabric messily shoved in there.

he also definitely takes photos of you in compromising positions and fists his little cock to them, moaning and whining loudly, with zero intent to secrete what he’s doing.

and seungmin taking up-skirt photos omg. he finds you so captivating when you’re dressed up girlishly, and skirts are his absolute favourite, not only because you look so lovely, but because you’re extra accessible. he can’t help but stand behind you, pretending to look for something as he takes quick photos of your covered cunt to keep for later (he prays one day that he’ll catch you naked under the skirt).

i can also see seungmin grinding his hard-on against your ass whenever you’re sitting on his lap, sighing and squeezing your hips firmly as you look behind to stare at him curiously.

minho would be so possessive, oh my gosh.

i can picture him trying to figure out your cellphone password in hopes of discovering nudes in there when you’re not around.

once he ultimately figures it out, he steals your phone as you’re sleeping and impatiently unlocks your hidden photos, his cock swelling upon uncovering hundreds of photos of your tits and cunt—photos of you in lingerie, videos of you fucking yourself—holy shit, he thinks, were you always such a fucking slut?

he immediately sends them to himself and deletes the chat afterwards to keep you from finding out.

after scrolling through all of your photos and having his fair share of pleasure jerking himself off to all of them, he looks through the rest of your phone late into dusk, dedicating hours to examining your messages, social media, etc. who just followed you? who did you just call?

he feels himself grow irritated with the number of men you speak to, not many to the average individual but enough for lee minho—you didn’t send any of them your nudes, right?

whatever, whether you did or didn’t, you certainly weren’t going to anymore—not when he’s blocking every single man he’s concerned about from your phone. he’ll confess to you soon anyway—you’re already his, as far as he’s concerned.

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badnoahmens · 6 months

Text

You’re Mine

Noah Sebastian x Reader

3.6k words.

A/N: jealous Noah has me feeling strong feelings. Smutty shit so 18+ only. Wrote this instead of working on higher priority WIPs.

You twist the handle for the hot water off, steam being the only thing that filled the small shower around you now. After the long day you had, a nice, hot shower was the only thing that seemed to help take the edge off. With a sigh, you step from the warmth surrounding you, reaching for the towel and swiftly tucking in the side to preserve your modesty.

As you exit from the bathroom, you swipe meaninglessly through your phone, scrolling through photos posted from friends and the odd targeted advertisement. With a small ding a new notification graces the top of your screen. An old friend of yours, Patrick, that you had kept in touch with throughout the years, had recently reached out and was sending memes he thought you would like. Seeing as the two of you had similar jobs, they were mostly focused on that. Innocent enough, but it wasn’t worth looking at now.

Without taking much notice of your surroundings, you walk between the bathroom and into the kitchen in search of a snack to quell your cravings. Noah was leaning on the counter in the middle of the kitchen, elbows propping up with one hand curled into a fist under his chin, the other scrolling through something on his phone. His eyes were slightly glazed over, a side effect of the doom scrolling that he often fell into. You side-eye him as you walk past, pulling an unimpressed face as you responsibly reach for an apple.

The bite you take makes a loud crunch that is the only sound that breaks the silence in the room. The chewing that follows is equally as loud and disturbing, echoing as an irritating wet, mushy slurp. You kept your eyes on Noah as you took a second loud bite from the apple, knowing full well he loathes the sound.

Another scroll with his thumb flashes bright colours and fast-moving videos on his phone, still unaware of your presence.

A third bite of the apple, this one finally earning a reaction. His head slowly turns, pivoting on the hand that he still has balancing under his chin, his eyes landing on you as you take a fourth, menacingly slow and obnoxiously loud bite.

And then it is a stare-down. You refuse to let up, keeping a blank expression on your face as you grind down, meticulously masticating the organic surgery fruit. Noah squinted his eyes, knowing full well that it was your intention to bother him. He clicks his phone so the screen locks, and places it gently on the counter.

“Alright! That’s it!” he finally calls as you lift the apple, almost gone now, to your mouth dramatically slowly for another bite, although you never get to take it. Noah stands and strides over to you, snatching the apple from your hands, tossing it into the bin that sat in the corner of the room. It was immediately after that you were tossed over his shoulder, flailing in a panic. He turned on his heels and speed-walks to the bedroom. You bounced slightly as the pace he held wasn’t one that was all that graceful. He was laughing maniacally at your feeble attempts to squirm from his grasp. You would never tell him that you weren’t actually trying.

With a jostle and a thud, he dumps you on your back, the soft mattress bouncing below you. You fight playfully, trying your best to catch Noah’s fast and nimble hands as they darted in and out, tickling your sides. His smile is palpable, his hair wavering from side to side as he adjusts his plan of attack every time you twist and turn under him. He has his knees pinned by your sides, grey sweats and a black t-shirt lingering over you as his colourful, decorated arms and neck looked ever so enticing. You couldn't help but notice the way that his pants twitched as he continued to hold you pinned down on the bed.

In a sudden change of heart, his hands stop, grasping your wrists and holding them above your head in one of his hands. He drops his face so that it is an inch from yours. His breath wafted over your face and you smiled, glancing between his intense gaze and watching the way he licked his lips.

“How was your shower? Did it fix your bad day?” He asked. His head tilted to the side slightly. The question sounded innocent enough, right?

“I’m still a little tense,” you reply. And you were honest with your response. It was a long day. When you arrived home, your bags were quickly dumped on the floor by the door haphazardly, a huff leaving you in an attempt to exult some of the emotion that had pent up all day. Working with kids was difficult on a normal day, but there must have been something in the air today for them to be as wild as they were. Noah knew you were in a less-than-ideal mood. Bless his soul, he did try and help, but the best thing you could do was to wash the day away. Now, even after a shower, the aftereffects of a bad day were still lingering despite being only towel-clad underneath your boyfriend.

“Turn over” he motions with his head, releasing your hands from his vice grip allowing you to lay on your stomach instead. In the midst of this motion, he tweaks his fingers under the top of where your towel sat, tugging at the tuck that held it secure. You had a sharp inhale as the cold air hit your bare skin, still warm and slightly damp from your shower.

You heard Noah hum behind you and you glance over your shoulder back at him, but he doesn't see your face. Instead, his eyes are trailing down your body, pupils dilating when he sets his sight on your ass.

Noah was an ass man for sure. And he was obsessed with yours. He would always be so handsy with you, the odd playful slap here and there, tucking his hand into your back pocket to cop a feel when he probably shouldn't be, even his favourite sex positions were the ones where it was front and centre in his view.

You tucked your hands under your chin, still twisting so that you could see Noah in your peripherals. His hands started to glide over your back, down your sides, following the sweet contours of your body. Noah let out a low growl from deep within, but you’re certain he wasn’t aware of half the noises he was making; the deep breaths, slight gasps and quiet moans.

Using all of his restraint, Noah tears his gaze from your ass and lifts his body so that he is kneeling over you, hands now placed on your shoulders. He could still feel the tension in the knots that had built up over time, forming firm ridges across your shoulders and back. Tattooed digits started to knead into the tender muscles twisting under your skin. The pressure mixed with the slow circles made you close your eyes and let out an involuntary moan. Noah hummed and smiled to himself, knowing the power this had over you. You were such a sucker for massages, and could never deny having Noah;s hands all over your body.

He continued to try his best to break down the clusters of tension, twisting and rubbing at the bundles that had gathered over a long time. Your head would roll from one side to the other, allowing Noah to work into different areas and use different pressures to make some kind of difference. Noah would be lying if he said he didn’t love it too. Having his hands all over you? Making you feel good? Knowing full well that this often led to something far more exciting? Yes please.

It was at this moment, as you were about to be lost to Noah’s touch and oblivious to the world, when your phone dinged again. Lifting it up to your face, another notification from your old friend lit up the phone that was strewn carelessly on the bed next to you.

Noah’s hands stopped.

“Who’s Patrick’?” Noah asks, the slighted hint annoyance in this voice. You readjusted your position so you could see Noah’s face, his expression blank. You tried to wriggle so you could twist from under him, but his legs tensed and squeezed you so you were stuck, completely at his mercy.

“He’s an old friend. Has a similar job. Been sending me some memes about work. He sent me one earlier but I didn’t respond so he’s probably sending another” you answer.

“Sending you memes, huh? He does this often?” Noah’s leg muscles were still tense beside you as he sat back on his haunches, warm calloused hands now retreating from your body.

“I mean, a little bit. He reached out last week after he started a new job with someone I used to know.” You pause, Noah’s demeanour was changing before your very eyes. Now, he seemed a little standoffish.

Noah makes a “Hmff” noise in response.

“Noah?” He doesn’t respond. “Are you jealous?”

No response again.

“Noah” you call once more.

“You’re seriously moody because I have been talking to an old friend?” You prop your head up on your hands in an effort to get a better view of Noah. Although you could see his face, he had turned to look across the room beyond you, and he seemed perplexed.

“Fine. Don’t talk to me. That's totally fine” you say sarcastically, shifting underneath him to slip out from his legs still perched beside you. Before you could free yourself entirely, Noah leaves. He stands and crosses the room, disappearing into your walk-in robe. Sounds of shuffling items then follows.

You twist and sit up, pulling the towel back around you. Your gaze was down at trying to hitch the material back into a safe tuck as you ignored the kerfuffle Noah was making when he walked back into the room.

Just as you are satisfied with the towel adjustments, Noah’s hands are on you, pushing you back down onto the bed. He hovers over you again, but now his eyes were dark and his motions were very intentional.

You go to speak, but Noah shakes his head and stands again, holding a firm grip on your hips so that you swivel to a new angle, diagonal across the bed, and spinning so that you land back onto your stomach, just like before.

Your eyes glance up in front of you and you see what the commotion Noah was making before. A full body-length mirror was now sat up leaning against the wall, allowing for your reflection to stare right back at you. You look up at Noah through your eyelashes in the mirror, raising an eyebrow quizzically at you, trying to figure out the expression Noah has spread all over his face. That is, until it hits. It’s a look of desire.

He proceeds to crawl over you, leaning forward on closed fists so that they land on either side of your head before rising to be on his knees. Illustrated hands that contrast with the towel hitch around your hips, yanking them up fast and forcefully so that your knees fall under you, perching your ass high.

You couldn’t help but have a smirk plastered on your face; Noah on the other hand, still doing his best to hold a poker face. His gaze wanders down, allowing his hands to rub possessively over your cheeks under the fuzzy material. They dance lightly over your hips, then begin the trace lines on the insides of your thighs. You let out a high-pitched whimper as an automatic response. You had no control over what influence Noah had on your body, let alone when you were like this.

Noah’s eyes didn’t leave your face, so you teasingly leant back, pressing your skin closer to him. Your breath started to quicken, hitching in your throat when his nimble fingers flicked at the towel causing it to slip down, exposing your body once again. Noah struggled to keep his composure as he took the sights, expression faltering slightly and his hands moved to your folds immediately feeling the warm wetness on his fingertips.

Your eyes slipped closed, relishing in the lightest of touches that Noah was gracing you with, that was until one hand came down with a hard slap on your ass, and the fingers teasing you were gone.

Your eyes shoot open and your body jolts in reaction, except Noah clamps his hands on your hips and pulls you back closer to him.

“Keep them open” he growls, and you watch the way his mouth twitches as his fingers return to your folds, one hand grabbing a handful of the tender skin of your ass cheek perched up in his direction. You lock eyes in the mirror. “I want you to see who’s you are,” he continued.

Slowly, one finger glides into your pussy. It might not be enough, but it’s something. You rock back in the slightest way, and Noah’s grip tightens on your ass. He gives you a warning glance, before his eyes move to his digit disappearing into your folds. It curls up inside you, like he was beckoning you to come closer. The caressing on your inside walls slowly pumps out, and then in again. A rhythm started to build and he added a second finger.

Starting to feel more full, your eyes begin to close, but you remember the demands before they fully shut. Instead, you peer through half-closed slits and admire the way Noah’s hips were starting to grind against you. There was a mound growing in his pants, grazing against your inner thigh, telling you that he is loving this.

“Does that feel good?” He murmurs from behind you, and his eyes are back on yours in the mirror. You nod and hum in response, sliding a hand back behind you to reach for Noah. He takes your hand, grasps it firmly, and places it on your back. It’s feels unnatural, but not unformatabme. Your fingers intertwine as acts almost like an anchor. For you? For Noah? You’re not sure, maybe even both of you.

“Say my name” he demands.

“N….” You start, and he flicks his wrist, stopping any ability to control your voice. Instead, a moan escapes.

“What was that?” He whispers, twisting his fingers again in the same motion.

“Nooaaahhhhh…” the end of his name escapes your mouth as a sigh, as though it could have very well been your last breath.

Noah’s fingers disappear from inside you, slipping out and bringing with it some of the wetness that is all but dripping from your pussy.

“What do you want?” He asks. But you can’t speak. The emptiness turns into an ache. All you can do is stare at him in the mirror and watch as he slides his fingers into his mouth, letting drips of your own liquids run down his chin. His eyes are blown wide and dark with desire, and he notices the way your legs twitch closer when his tongue graces the space between his two fingers, curling up to clean them of any remnants of you on them.

“I- I want you” you are able to stammer out between the heavy breaths.

He grins a devilish grin and shifts his weight, struggling to jam down his sweats to his thighs with one hand, ignoring his own wet patch of precum that had soaked through the front of them. His hand then lands on the outside of your thigh, in the crease where it meets your hip, as he steadies himself. You can feel the tip of his cock nudge at your entrance, and then he pauses.

His dark eyes are locked in on yours, looking through his eyelashes, and moving his eyes, slowly rocks his hips forward. The pressure is achingly slow. He is teasing you. Letting you know that he is in control here.

Your free hand grasps at fbe sheets below you, trying in some way to let out the tension that is building. The other hand still intertwined with Noah’s behind you tightens in grip. He gives his own squeeze back, almost as a reassurance. Your mouth falls open and eyebrows twist, anticipation causing you to be entirely out of control if your own body movements. You feel him inside, yet it’s the lack of rhythmic motion that is missing.

Your hips buck forward involuntarily, something deep within you just pleading for more friction between you and Noah, and he picks up on it. He begins to drag his cock out of you, placing his free hand on the inside of your thigh, tapping it with grace as though to say ‘open more’. You do as you’re told, shifting the weight to one leg and the other swings out to make a wide gap between your legs. Noah doesn’t hesitate after that.

His shaft is hammering back into you. In and out like a jackhammer. The fingers of his free hand now sitting dangerously and teasingly close to the tight ring of muscle that sat between your asscheecks. You look at his face in the mirror; a sheen of sweat building over his face after only a minute of fucking, his brows furrowed as he stares intently at the work he is doing on your behind. Nails dig into the tender flesh of your derriere as Noah tilts his head back.

You feel the white hot glow begin to burn inside you. Noah is not taking any chances tonight, his hand leaving yours on your back to tangle with the mess of hair on your head. It was already knotted, but Noah intertwined his fingers with it, tugging with little force to bring your chin up.

Your legs were shaking at this point, and it could have been from the pleasure or the absolute hammering they were receiving. There was a growl from Noah which drowned out the hum of the tv from the other room, but you couldn’t tell what he actually said. The skin on skin slapping sounding even sloppier by the second. He was getting close, he was starting to fumble over his rhythm, but he could see that you just weren’t as close to your release as he was.

His hand leaves the tangle of your messy hair, keeping his eye contact in the mirror, and lands on the underside of your belly. You can feel him pull towards him, another silent instruction. Pushing on your arms, you felt weak. They shivered underneath you and you rose to your elbows, then up on your palms.

“More. Against me” Noah hums through a tight jaw. The pounding from behind you was starting to slow and you knew he couldn’t hold on for much longer.

With the right shift of weight, you right yourself on your knees, feeling the sweaty, warm sensation of Noah’s heaving body on your back. His arm wrapped around your chest, settling with an open palm grasping needily at your breast. He grabbed, twisted and pinched at your nipple, caressing what he could as he tried his best to focus on bringing you closer. And boy, was it working.

The new position gave you a full frontal view of what state you were in. The mirror was a portal to a world of pleasure and sex, and the only ones who lived there were you and Noah. Nothing else around you mattered. Nothing else around you even existed in this moment.

Your eyes clamp shut as the build of your orgasm was teetering at the edge, threatening to unfurl and throw sensations through your body that only Noah could achieve. There was a tightening around your neck, and as your eyes open, he land on Noah’s is tense stare from behind you.

“I said keep them open” he demanded. “I want you to watch you cum. Watch what I can do to you.”

All you can do is nod. He was never this dominant, but he must have been really ticked off. He had a point to prove, and he was delaying his own paradise just to make it know.

“You’re mine.”

“I’m yours” you whisper.

The hammering of his cock inside you, slamming deep inside of you, paired with the hand that had just dropped to your clit was the magic that brought your orgasm to its peak. There was a flood of heat that washed through you. If it wasn’t for Noah’s arms, you would have collapsed right there in front of him. Your body jerked involuntarily as Noah let you ride out the electricity. His eyes were on your face, watching as you cried out with his name, hands desperately grabbing at his arm twisted around you.

His muscles flexed as he held you up, knowing that you needed him to stay this close, but he couldn’t help but give up the fight of holding back his own orgasm. With a wet jerk of his hips, he slipped from you just in time to let the streams of hot white cum leave him, landing on the lower part of your back. You fall forward, landing with your arms by your face, and let Noah release onto you. You watch as his own eyes close, failing to follow his own rules, and then collapses beside you.

It was minutes before either of you even got your breaths back into a regular pattern. You watch Noah lay on his back, his palm resting on his forehead, and a sex-drunk smile on his face. He turns to look at you, letting out a low chuckle.

“I’d like to see Patrick’s memes beat that.”

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 7 months

Text

Ghost liking you in special jewellery

so fucking nsfw

pairing: l.t. Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader (cod mw)

tags/tw: afab!reader, dirty talk, butt-plugs, smut, not really explicit but still kinda public teasing

a/n: uhm, somehow I just started imagining Ghost absolutely adoring his partner wearing those jewelled but plugs just because it makes you look oh so cute🫣

Simon 'Ghost' Riley MASTERLIST

nsfw

-like, it was never a secret you love when Ghost gropes your ass, big strong hands massaging the flesh, neither that he loved grabbing at any part of your body, especially your ass

-it's just nice when he does, making you feel desired as he physically can't keep his hands off of you for long, and he just likes it because it makes him feel grounded and he likes seeing how amazingly reactive you're to his touch

-then you both find out you don’t mind Ghost teasing that puckered hole of your ass

-it happened after that one time when he accidentally let his thumb slip over your back entrance as he intended to push your lower back down during doggy, hand gliding from gripping the flesh of your rear and up over the curve of it and then just .... yeah

-you were caught off-guard, moaned in surprised pleasure at the fleeting touch

-of course, Ghost noticed it hadn't been an entirely uncomfortable sound you'd released, and delicately repeated the teasing and light movement, only to spur the same sound again

-the pillow talk following that session had you incredibly more flustered than normally as he asked about it

-although you managed to talk about the newly discovered thing, neither of you really desired to go the full way, Ghost large enough he never skipped foreplay and needed to prep you before each time you had sex despite it being months into your relationship

-STIL, it turned out that you did like the exhilarating feeling of Ghost teasing you like that

-somewhere down the road, you scrolled on some sex website, wanting to buy some condoms and lube and just happen to get stuck on a pretty beginner's butt plug with a glimmering jewel

-without much thought, you added it to the cart

-imagine Ghost’s shock when he’s the one picking up the package and opens it, only to find the bejewelled plug, even more, so the first time he works it into you and fucks you as he stares at it and he feels something hot course through it

-he would go fucking feral, you were usually so pretty in jewellery but somehow you were even prettier now with the moans spilling from your lips as he teasingly pushed against the jewel to feel it nudge through the thin walls to where his cock pushed into your absolutely sopping hole

-FUCKING IMAGINE THIS MAN WANTING YOU TO WEAR IT WHILE YOU GO OVER TO YOUR FAMILY FOR A DINNER

-the whole getting ready together needed to be done twice as he leaves your hair dishevelled and his shirt wet around the wrist after fingering you for being so good to him as he slips the plug inside you

-he would be so smug the whole evening, noticing how you shift, favouring to lean more on one side than the other, legs crossed, all to keep some of your weight of what’s hidden beneath the innocent-looking dress

-he would definitely join you in the kitchen once you finish helping your mother dish off the table, offering that he could take over her role and let her rest sweet talker Riley initiated, receiving endless indirect praise from your mother as she gushes what a man you've found to you as she wanders into the living room where you dad is

Though smiling at her until she disappears, you were suspicious of Ghost's intentions, only to be proven right when rather than fetching the desserts from the fridge, he circles his arm around your waist. 'Does your daddy know his little princess likes jewels up her arse when she gets fucked? ’ As the whispered words curl over your ear, his hand slide down the curve of your ass, making you straighten. The once cold but now body-temperature metal inside you was all the more noticeable even if Ghost didn’t toy with it like he loved to do while having you bent over in front of him. ’Simon, behave’, you scolded him in a hushed voice, starting to regret that you let him convince you to do this. His lips brushed the shell of your ear as he chuckled. ’Don’t play shy now, lovie, you didn’t seem to mind one bit when I worked it into you earlier' . Your hand shot to his thigh, nails digging into the meaty muscle as Ghost cheekily slipped his hand to brush beneath your rear, fingers spreading wide as he pushed his palm up, jostling the plug nestle inside you. Your head snaps to the side to look over your shoulder, all of a sudden worried either of your parents had entered the kitchen again without you noticing. 'You said you wouldn’t tease', the sentence was whiny, rushed, as you looked at him now, a slight scowl on your features despite neither your mother nor father standing stunned in the doorway. ’Impossible to when knowing what a pretty sight will greet me when we get home'. Ghost wasn't sorry at all, only a devilish smirk meeting you as he spoke in a husky voice. 'I can very well leave you high and dry once we get home'. 'Getting feisty? Hm?' There’s a dark glint in his eyes as he leans down to your ear after licking his lips. 'We both know you’ll be dripping once we get back, dirty fucking girl getting off on having matching jewellery around her neck and inside her that no one but I know ’bout”. He presses a kiss to your bare shoulder a your mouth falls open, as if the gentlemanly action would soothe the burning desire he ignited in you and leaves you with as he pulls away, retrieving the dessert your mother raked earlier during the day.

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rubyreduji · 8 months

Text

ahegao and arousal — ljh

summary: jihoon just wanted to have a nice night watching anime with you, how was he supposed to know the show he picked was a hentai?

tags: smut (minors dni!) warnings: explicit unprotected sex, hentai, ji is kind of a perv, creampies, spanking, scratching, finger sucking, pinning, multiple orgasms wc: 3.6k an: ANON I SCREAMED WHEN I READ THIS LIKE AHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU i made up my own anime plot for this hehe but watched wotakoi while writing bc office romance

orignal request: woozi and reader are at a sleepover and are both anime geeks but what’s playing is not anime and more hentai

Akira, long time secretary at Hayashi Corp, spends her days doing errands for her boss, Hiroshi, and keeping the office running. The mundane pace of her life is suddenly thrown for a loop when the new data analyst, Kaito, is hired.

That’s what the description of the show Jihoon picked said. It sounded like a cute little work place, slice of life romance anime at the time of Jihoon scrolling through what show to watch with you tonight. Oh how wrong he was.

Last week you hunted Jihoon down and insisted that it has been far too long since you two had a day to spend hanging out just you two, so Jihoon invited you over for an all night anime marathon. It’s no secret that you two are giant anime buffs, and so it was difficult for Jihoon to find something that both of you have yet to see. So when he came across this new anime he thought it was the perfect pick. It had an 8.7 review and tropes that Jihoon knows you enjoy, making it the perfect show to watch with you.

The show started out fine, a bit cliche but overall carrying the same cute aesthetic of all romance animes. Sure there were a few throw away fanservice bits, but Jihoon didn’t think anything of it. Until he did.

Jihoon’s ears burn as he tries to figure out where to look. He can’t look at you, that would just make him even more flustered, but staring at the TV is out of the option. Even as Jihoon stares at the wall, he can’t escape the lewd sounds playing out of the speakers. He can’t exactly tell what the characters are saying due to it being in Japanese, but from the excessive moaning and slick sounds, he can interpret it.

The show was going so well, to the point where the two of you were starting to root for a male lead, and then all of a sudden Akira is being cornered in an empty meeting room by Hiroshi (who is the wrong male lead, by the way) and their clothes are flying off and then Jihoon had to stop watching.

His curiosity gets the best of him though and Jihoon glances at the TV, just to take a quick peak, only to get a full view of an animated cock being slid into an exaggeratingly wet pussy (why is it uncensored!?). She cries out as the subtitles read, “He’s so big!~”. The image changes to the bouncing of Akira’s unnaturally large tits as Hiroshi starts to thrust into her. Above her tits is the image of her face, screwed up into a classic hentai ahegao.

Now, Jihoon is well…a man, and men have certain urges that need to be taken care of every once in a while, and Jihoon often finds himself looking to certain content to help out those urges. He of course carries shame for it and would never actually admit that he watches hentai (a lot), but it's a fact that’s hard to hide when his body is reacting to the scene the way it normally would if he was watching it alone.

You haven’t spoken a single word since the scene started, and Jihoon just prays to god that you’re not looking at him or his lap.

Now in theory, Jihoon could just turn the TV off but then that would force both of you to face the reality that you have now consumed porn together and Jihoon doesn’t think he can handle that. Just thinking about it makes Jihoon’s dick twitch even harder.

Jihoon takes a shallow breath and finally risks a glance over at you. He’s shocked at the sight. Your bottom lip is placed between your teeth, being chewed up as you stare intently at the screen. Your knees are pulled to your chest and there’s a slight gleam in your eye as you watch the scene. Is it possible that you’re…enjoying this?

Jihoon allows himself to get a better look at you, as it’s clear you’re solely focused on the show. He watches as you take a shaky breath, your thighs squeezing together as well. The sight drives Jihoon just slightly insane, and it doesn’t help you’re in the skimpiest pair of sleep shorts and a tank top, sans a bra.

You and Jihoon have been friends for a while. You two met coincidentally at an anime convention, You were cosplaying as one of his favorite characters and Jihoon made sure to get your socials. You were interested in his own socials though, noticing the OST covers he uploaded occasionally. When it was revealed you two are from the same area, you two quickly became close. Now, nearly six years later, you’re one of Jihoon’s closest friends.

The only thing is, Jihoon has a fat, massive crush on you. He has for years now. It doesn’t help that the characters you cosplay the most are either some of Jihoon’s favorites or characters who are the biggest victims of fanservice behaviors. One time you cosplayed a character who fell under both categories and that night Jihoon shamefully jerked off to the pictures you sent to him.

And now you’re here, dressed in revealing clothes, sitting on Jihoon’s couch, invested in the porn scene playing on the TV.

Jihoon eyes travel down from your face to your chest, where your tank top does a poor job of hiding your cleavage. He can see the way your chest swells with each shuddered breath. It’s clear now that you’re very into this, and Jihoon wonders for a brief second how wet your panties are.

Jihoon then quickly chides himself, looking back at the wall and away from you. That’s where his gaze stays until the scene ends. Once the show goes back to being a seemingly innocent romance anime, Jihoon finally allows himself to glance over at you. To his surprise you’re staring back at him.

“I, uh, can’t believe she’d hook up with Hiroshi,” you say, breaking the silence between you two. “Clearly Kaito is the better choice.”

Jihoon coughs, clearing his throat. “Y-yeah. It’s also kinda weird since he’s her boss…”

The conversation fizzles out quickly after that and you and Jihoon go back to watching the TV in awkward silence. Jihoon can still feel the ache in his cock as he watches the characters fumble around each other.

Jihoon can barely even focus on the show, too busy trying to think about anything that will get his boner to go down. He’s not sure what’s happening on screen when all of a sudden you start squealing.

“Oh my god Jihoon, it's happening!” You launch yourself across the couch to grab at Jihoon’s arm. He’s startled for a moment, his skin burning where your fingers dig into his flesh. He glances at the TV to see Kaito walking Akira back to her home.

You don’t let go of Jihoon as you settle down next to him, your body now pressed up against him rather than across the couch. God Jihoon swears his cock has never been so hard in his life. He’s sure the pillow placed over his lap is anything but subtle.

You’re not looking at Jihoon though, too invested in the conversation the two characters are having. Jihoon glances down at you, only to realize that was a bad choice as he’s now staring straight down your shirt at your cleavage. For a moment Jihoon thinks about how he wouldn’t mind seeing how your boobs bounce while he fucks you.

Jihoon’s still focused on you solely, when you gasp. He glances at you and then the screen to see the two characters posed in a kabedon. It doesn’t take long for the two to start making out and Jihoon can already anticipate what’s going to happen next. Your fingers dig into Jihoon’s arm before you realize what you’re actually doing. You go to pull your hand back, but you stop halfway through, your fingers just barely ghosting Jihoon’s arm.

“We can just skip this scene,” Jihoon finally says, seeing the internal conflict going on in your mind. He moves to reach for the remote but you stop him.

“N-no, it’s okay,” you tell him, in a voice that’s smaller than normal. “U-unless you don’t want to!”

“No, it’s uh, it’s fine,” Jihoon says. You give a slight nod, not moving your hand away.

You and Jihoon quiet down once more, staring at the TV, both of your cheeks warm. On screen Kaito is bending Akira over the counter, his cock pulled out and rubbing against her slit. Jihoon hears the labored breath you take, as your fingers slightly tighten on his arm.

Jihoon flits his eyes to glance at you, noticing the intrigued look back on your face. His fingers twitch on his lap as he stares down at your thighs, pushed together. The lewd sounds of moans and squelches fill the living room and Jihoon is five seconds away from getting up to go relieve himself in his bathroom.

Jihoon knows you. If something goes wrong you’ll both just brush it off and forgive and forget it. Fuck it.

Jihoon reaches out and slides his hand over your thigh. You jump a bit and Jihoon goes to pull back, but you stop him.

“No! You’re uh-, you’re fine.”

Jihoon just nods, trying to pretend like his mind isn’t reeling right now. His thumb brushes over your bare thigh, caressing the skin.

Your thighs are soft and he does his best not to full on grope the fat there. Just touching you like this has Jihoon’s cock leaking desperately in his boxers and he thinks about how good it would feel to touch in other ways as well. The swell of your breasts under his palms, his plump lips against your tender neck, his hard cock nestled inside of you.

Jihoon lets his mind wander too much, and the last image makes him squeeze your thigh hard, causing you to let out a moan.

“Fuck, Jihoon,” you mutter.

“I’m so sorry!” Jihoon shouts, quickly pulling his hand away. You’re quicker though, grabbing his hand and placing it on your upper thigh, his fingers just barely brushing against your crotch. Jihoon’s mouth goes dry.

“F-finish what you started, Ji,” you tell him, your voice thick with lust.

Jihoon gulps and nods. He moves his fingers to press against you harder and you automatically spread your thighs to give him more room. Jihoon can already feel how wet you are and he stifles a groan. You let out broken gasps as Jihoon continues to rub at your clit through your shorts.

Jihoon can’t take his eyes off you, staring at you the way the swell of your breasts heaves with each breath. Jihoon shifts his position to face you so he can reach out his free hand. It hovers over your chest for a moment before he finally pushes forward, grasping your boob in his palm. Your breath stutters before you release a low moan. Jihoon can feel the clench of your thighs around his hand.

Your pussy is dripping now, soaking straight through your panties and shorts. Jihoon’s cock is also leaking, begging to be slid into your warm walls. His cock strains against his shorts, like it’s trying to break free from the confines itself.

Jihoon groans and pulls his hands off of you and you whine. You’re not left untouched for too long though as Jihoon hooks his fingers into your waistband and starts to pull your shorts down. You lift your hips to help him out, pulling your top off your body as well. Even though your clothes did little to cover you up, seeing you fully naked drives Jihoon insane.

He stares at your slick pussy and he nearly drops to his knees then, thinking about how heavenly it would be to be in between your thighs, but his dick twitches a little too hard and he knows he has to get inside of you now. Jihoon pushes his shorts down his legs and his cock finally springs free.

“Jihoon please,” you whine and Jihoon groans. He sits back down on the couch and grabs you, pulling you onto his lap. You look pretty, perched on Jihoon’s thick, pale thighs. Your pussy rubs up against his cock and Jihoon can feel your arousal spread across his length, lubing it up.

“S-shit,” Jihoon curses. Your fingers grasp his shoulders tightly, your fingernails just starting to dig in, and the slight sting goes straight to Jihoon’s cock.

“C’mon Hoonie,” you mumble. “Just fuck me.”

That’s all Jihoon needs to properly line himself up and slam right into you. You whine loudly at the feeling as Jihoon slides right into you, your cunt already so need that there’s no resistance. Just as Jihoon expected, your walls are soft and warm as you clench down around him.

Jihoon grasps your waists, slowly guiding you up his length before pulling you back down. Jihoon can see you biting down on your lip as you roll your hips against him. He reaches up and gently pulls your lip out from between your teeth with his thumb. Before Jihoon can tell you he wants to hear your moans, your tongue darts out and licks at the pad of his thumb before you lean down and take his whole thumb into your mouth.

Jihoon’s hips buck up into you as you suck on his thumb, your tongue swirling around it. You look down at him with your sultry eyes and for a moment Jihoon wonders if you’ve wanted him just a long as he’s wanted you.

You gradually speed up your pace until you’re fully fucking yourself on Jihoon’s cock, fast and hard. You pop your mouth off of Jihoon’s thumb, finally letting your moans flow free. To Jihoon, you sound like an angel singing. As you bounce in his lap Jihoon can’t help but stare at your tits as they bounce in front of his face. He realizes that if he stares for too much longer, he’s going to cum too soon.

He leans forward and starts to pepper kissings along your neck and chest. His fingers trail up your torso until they come to your tits. He palms at your chest, hard and mean, desperate to feel you up as much as he can.

Your fingernails dig into Jihoon’s shoulders even harder, slightly dragging up and scratching him. Jihoon would never consider himself a masochist but the pain burns delightfully and suddenly he wants you to tear up his whole back.

“F-fuck, Ji~” you whine. “Your cock feels suh’good.”

Your cunt squeezes Jihoon’s cock, so close to milking him for all that he’s worth. Jihoon doesn’t bother taking his mouth off of you, just humming against your collarbone. Jihoon’s body feels like it’s burning up, the feel of your soft skin pressed against him, your warm cunt wrapped around his aching cock. If he doesn’t cum soon he’s sure that he’ll implode.

Jihoon reaches between your body and snags his finger on your clit, rubbing at the bud rapidly to get you closer to your orgasm. You gasp and whine as your hips get more frantic, breaking your steady pace.

“G-gonna cum,” you say between broken breaths. You lean down and capture Jihoon in a kiss. The feeling of your lips against his is new and Jihoon already can’t get enough of it. Jihoon pushes his tongue between your lips, licking into your mouth to taste you better.

You move your hands up to cup his face, tugging him into you even harder as your body trembles in his grip. Jihoon can feel your walls fluttering around him as you reach your high. That’s all the signal Jihoon needs to let go as well, finally letting himself spill right into your cunt. Your hips soon come to a stop and lift up off of him as your body slumps down onto his.

“You know,” you mumble into his neck, your fingers now playing with the hair on his nape, “I’ve always kind of fantasized about this happening.”

“W-what?” Jihoon asks, his mind already dizzy from his orgasm and now your words aren’t helping.

“You’re hot Ji. Like, I’ve never met an anime nerd as buff as you. You’re also just like…really nice and caring? I don’t know, ever since we met a small part of me has always wanted to fuck you.”

“Shit,” Jihoon groans. “You’re saying that we could have been fucking for years now? Baby I don’t think you know how badly your cosplays turn me on.”

“You’re gonna turn me on again,” you murmur.

“Good,” Jihoon responds. “Because I still have one more round in me.” Even after cumming, Jihoon’s cock is still hard and he easily flips you around and presses you down against the couch. Your face is now buried in the cushions as Jihoon pulls your hips up to meet his.

“S-shit,” you gasp.

Jihoon pushes his thumb against your folds, rubbing at them for a moment before pulling one to the side. Your cunt is shiny from your arousal and as Jihoon forced your entrance open, some of his cum from earlier starts to spill out. Jihoon is tempted to finger fuck it back into you, but it’s not too much of a loss when he can just give you fresh load.

Jihoon’s tip rubs up against your slit, teasing you. You wiggle your hips slightly, begging for him to put it in. Luckily, Jihoon is just as desperate as you are and pushes his hips forward, his tip easily sliding into you.

You just had Jihoon inside of you and yet the feeling of his cock rubbing up against your walls as you moaning and drooling on the couch cushions.

“So good for me,” Jihoon mutters to himself. “Fuck how do you feel ever better the second time.”

Jihoon’s hips slam into yours, rough and slow, making each stroke intentional. His grip on your hips is tight, making sure you stay in place as he fucks into you.

As much as Jihoon loves staring at your tits bouncing in his face, the view from the back is just as good. He can’t help himself as he lifts his hand up, letting his palm smack against your ass as he brings his hand back down. He watches satisfied as your ass recoils, the fat jiggling deliciously. He repeats this action a few more times until he’s sure your ass is warm and stinging from the hits.

“H-hoonie, faster, please,” you beg. You push your hips back, trying to force Jihoon to pick up his speed.

“You need more, baby?” Jihoon coos teasingly. “Want my cock to pound your little pussy?”

“Yes,” you sob out. “Need you to fuck me hard.”

“Okay baby, your wish is my command.” Like a switch flipped, Jihoon starts to plow into you, the head of his cock ramming into your g-spot with each thrust.

Jihoon slides his hand up your spine, his fingers coming up to cup around the back of your neck, and he pushes down, holding you against the couch. It’s dirty, your ass sticking up in the air as your face is squished against the cushion, but that just gets Jihoon going even more.

“You look so pretty like this,” Jihoon tells you. “Back arched just for me.”

You can’t even respond, just letting out a spew of babbles and moans. Your fingers grip onto the edge of the cushion and Jihoon wonders if it’s second nature for you to dig your nails into something when being fucked. He’ll have to test that another time, your nails raking over his back as he fucks the life out you.

For now he’ll stick to railing you into tomorrow.

“S’close,” you slur. “P-please. Need to cum.”

“Aww, you need to come? Okay baby, cream all over my cock.”

Jihoon continues to abuse your sweet spot with his cock as your body tense under him. Your cunt clenches down tight into a vice grip as you whine high pitched and loud. Jihoon rubs at your hip as you orgasm. It isn’t until you fall spineless to the couch that Jihoon allows himself to fill you up once more. He milks himself dry inside of you, making sure you’re stuffed full. Jihoon knows you’re on birth control (you’ve complained about the change in hormones to him before) but the knowledge that Jihoon pumped you full with two loads still drives him slightly insane.

Jihoon slides out of you and slumps down on the couch as well. You shuffle around so you can cuddle up into his side and press a soft kiss to his jaw.

“This was fun,” you mumble and Jihoon laughs.

“Yeah…we should do it again.”

You grin. “We should.”

Before Jihoon can say anything else, you’re both caught off guard by a loud shout coming from the TV. You both whip your heads back to the screen, it seems in the midst of your own fun you both forgot what started it all.

A smirk crosses your face as you look at Jihoon. “You know, for my next convention maybe I should dress as Akira. I think I have a blazer sitting around in my closet somewhere…”

The thought alone sends Jihoon’s mind reeling. The thought of you dressed up in a tight blazer and short skirt, knowing that the character is from a hentai. He’s not sure he would be able to keep his hands off of you.

“And who knows, maybe you could dress up as Kaito with me.” You send a wink Jihoon’s way and it’s enough to have Jihoon’s dick twitching to life a third time.

Oh yeah. He definitely won’t be able to keep his hands off of you, but something in Jihoon tells him you won’t mind too much.

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