Synopsis : During a deadly hunt at the Danforth estate, you are relentlessly pursued by Titus Danforth, whose obsession turns dangerously possessive as he insists you’re safer with him than against him.
Parings : Titus Danforth - fem!reader
Warnings : titus being too obsessive, age gap (titus is around 50, reader is late 20s), stalking?, manipulation, blood, blurred consent
an : guys i have been obsessed with him in this movie!! why the villain if SO HOT!! I listened to Strangers the whole time writing this so do what you please with that information. l im lowkey starting to turn into a multi account not gonna lie.. and this is also my first “scary” type story so please lmk if there’s anything i can do to improve! ALSO ONE MORE THING!! This is a mix of both movies! enjoy my babes! 💌
Strangers
Ethel Cain
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0:24 ─●──────── -5:21
↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺
─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────
I tell myself I have a good reason to be here.
That’s the only thing keeping my hands steady as the car turns off the main road and the trees start closing in like they’ve been waiting for something to arrive.
The invitation wasn’t really optional.
It came through work. Through connections I don’t fully understand. A last-minute replacement, they said. Someone dropped out, and I was “available.”
That word has been sitting wrong in my chest ever since.
Available. Like I’m something that can be moved around.
The Danforth estate appears the way old nightmares do—slowly at first, then all at once. Iron gates, long driveway, a house too large to feel real. Lights glow in windows like the building is trying to convince itself it’s alive.
Inside, I do my best to stay professional.
I’m here to assist. Observe. Blend in. That’s what I keep repeating.
Staff move around me like I’m already temporary. Guests speak in careful, polished voices that don’t quite match their eyes. Everyone here feels like they’ve been taught how to behave instead of how to feel.
I’m supposed to be taking notes. Instead, I’m counting exits.
Midnight doesn’t feel like a moment. It feels like something slipping.
The air changes first—subtle, almost polite, like the house has finally stopped performing for us.
Up until then, everything had still felt manageable. Strange, sure, but manageable. The staff moved quietly with silver trays balanced against white gloves, guests laughed too loudly at jokes that weren’t funny, and somewhere in the distance a piano had been playing the same soft melody for almost an hour straight.
It felt like the kind of night rich people called tradition. Now it feels like prey standing still before the gunshot.
I keep my head lowered as I move through the edge of the ballroom, fingers tightening around the tray in my hands hard enough to make them ache. The borrowed uniform suddenly feels too warm against my skin. Too tight. I can feel sweat collecting at the back of my neck beneath the pinned-up collar.
Pretending to be staff had been easy earlier.
Smile politely. Keep moving. Don’t make eye contact longer than necessary. Invisible.
That’s what staff are in houses like this. Invisible until someone needs something.
The bride had figured it out before I did. Not the pretending part. The game.
I can still see her face from earlier tonight—perfect makeup, pearl earrings, shaking hands hidden beneath the dinner table. She’d married into the Danforth family only hours ago, smiling for photographs beneath candlelight while everyone around her looked at her like they already knew something she didn’t.
Maybe they did.
Maybe that’s why she’d grabbed my wrist in the kitchen while no one was looking.
“Something’s wrong here,” she whispered.
I remember laughing nervously, because what else was I supposed to do? Tell her I agreed? Tell her this whole estate made me feel like I’d accidentally wandered inside the mouth of something starving?
Then she leaned closer.
“They keep talking about midnight.”
Not long after that, she disappeared upstairs with the family.
And now the air feels wrong.
The silence that follows is so complete it almost rings.
Around me, conversations begin thinning out one by one, guests turning their heads toward the grand staircase like animals hearing thunder before it arrives.
Then—
A scream tears through the house.
The tray slips from my hands before I even realize I’ve let go. Glass shatters across the marble floor, sharp enough that several people jump backward, but nobody looks at me for long because another scream follows the first.
Somewhere upstairs, something crashes violently against wood.
My body moves before my brain catches up.
I back toward the servant corridor near the west hall just as voices begin rising all around the ballroom.
Then laughter. Not everyone though, just a few people. And somehow that’s worse.
I duck into the hallway before anyone can stop me, my pulse thudding so hard I can feel it in my throat. The servant corridors behind the walls of the estate are narrow and dimly lit, lined with old wallpaper peeling at the corners from age and moisture.
Another scream echoes through the ceiling above me. Then a gunshot.
My stomach drops so violently I nearly trip over my own feet.
No.
No, no, no—This isn’t happening.
I press myself against the wall, struggling to breathe quietly as footsteps thunder somewhere nearby. People are running now. Fast. Panicked.
But underneath the panic, there’s something else.
Excitement.
I hear it in their voices.
The realization settles into me slowly and all at once, they aren’t scared.
They’re hunting her. The bride.
I don’t know how long I stay hidden there. Minutes maybe. Maybe less. Time feels wrong inside the walls of the estate, stretched thin and trembling.
The house creaks around me like it’s alive.
Then another gunshot, closer this time
Followed by shouting.
I inch toward the cracked servant door, just enough to look through.
The ballroom below has transformed into something grotesque.
Guests crowd together near the staircase, some horrified, others eerily calm. Several members of the Danforth family are armed now—rifles, axes, old weapons polished enough to look ceremonial if they weren’t covered in blood.
And at the center of it all—
The bride.
Or what’s left of her.
My breath catches so sharply it hurts.
She’s crumpled across the marble staircase in her wedding dress, white fabric blooming red beneath her body. One of her heels hangs halfway off her foot. Her arm bends at an angle arms shouldn’t.
Nobody rushes to help her. Nobody even looks surprised.
A woman near the staircase sighs dramatically and says,
“Well. That was messy.”
I stare at them.
At all of them.
Waiting for someone to scream. Cry. Call the police. Nobody does. Because this was expected.
A hand suddenly grabs my arm from behind. I choke on a scream before turning sharply. An older housemaid stares at me with wide eyes.
“You,” she hisses. “Why are you still here?”
“I—I—”
The maid’s face changes instantly. Not fear for herself. Fear for me. Because suddenly she realizes something. I’m not supposed to be here. Not really. Im not family, not actual staff, not protected. Just present. And in a house like this, being present is enough.
“You’re not supposed to be here..”
“Wait.. I-”
“Intruder! She’s down here!” the old woman cries out. She shoves me backward hard enough that I stumble.
I panic, pushing her back as she stumbles, her head hitting the floor a little too hard. “Shit!” I mutter to myself as I notice her not waking up.
The corridor erupts into movement.
I hear shouting behind me as I bolt deeper into the servant halls, shoes slipping against old hardwood floors polished smooth with age. My lungs burn almost instantly, panic clawing its way up my throat as voices echo after me. I nearly slam into the wall turning a corner, catching myself against peeling wallpaper before forcing my legs to keep moving. The estate stretches endlessly around me—dark hallways, narrow staircases, hidden doors disguised within the walls themselves.
Then I hear the words that make real terror settle into my bones.
“Find out who she is.” Like once they know, something worse happens.
Behind me, footsteps grow louder.
I hide behind one wall of the estate, poking my head just the ever slightest around the corner to watch the footsteps, all of them traveling in one giant group. They turn the opposite direction of me. I let out a breath that felt like I've been holding for ages. Letting my back rest up against the cold wall before I feel a cold hand cover my mouth and a knife up to my neck.
“Don't speak a word.” a mans voice says in my ear
He grips me against his chest as drags me into a room nearby, shutting the door behind him as i escape his grip, grabbing a nearby lamp and holding it up as i back myself into a wall.
“Seriosly?” He grunted. “Im trying to help you..”
“Help me..?” I scoff as my hands are trembling with the lamp.
“I just need to know what you saw..”
“What I saw is you people killing someone! Im gonna call the police.. And te-”
“You cant. I own the police darling.. They wont come.” He takes a step closer
I look around the room for an exit, somehow just now noticing the large window beside me. I throw the lamp at it, the glass shattering all over the floor.
“You wont make that jump..” The man says with his arms crossed
“Titus?” I hear a woman shout from the hallway.
I make my way over to the window, looking outside and seeing a forest ahead. I don't even turn my head as i grab the boarder of the window, glass sinking into my skin. I whimper as i lift my legs over the edge, and jumping out. My left ankle hits a glassy grass first, then falling straight to my knees with a cry. I bring my hand up to my mouth to muffle my cries and picking myself up.
I force myself up, starting for the forest. I limp my way to the trees, gripping onto the first tree i saw. Then a gunshot fires beside me. A woman, from the window i jumped out of, was trying to shoot me. A man appears beside her.. The guy that pulled me away.. Titus was the name that was shouted before i left.. I shook my head and went deeper into the forest.
Branches claw against my arms as I push deeper between the trees, mud sucking at the bottoms of my shoes hard enough to nearly pull them off. Every breath burns. My ankle screams every time I put weight on it, sharp pain shooting up my leg from the jump. But I keep moving.
Because behind me is the estate.
The gunshot still rings in my ears as I limp through the dark, one hand pressed against the nearest tree every few steps just to keep myself upright. Rainwater drips through the leaves above me, cold against the cuts scattered across my skin.
I don’t know where I’m going. I just know I can’t stop.
My lungs tighten painfully as I finally slow near a cluster of trees thick enough to hide me. I crouch behind one, gripping the bark hard enough to ground myself. Think. Phone. I fumble through my pockets with shaking hands, almost crying in relief when my fingers brush against it. The screen lights up against my face—
No signal. Of course.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
The word disappears into the rain. For a second, the forest goes quiet. Too quiet. Just the sound of rain hitting leaves and my own uneven breathing.
Then somewhere behind me a branch snaps.
I freeze. Every muscle in my body locks at once.
Another snap. This time closer.
My stomach twists violently as I lower myself further against the tree trunk, trying to breathe through my nose instead of my mouth. The cuts on my palm sting where glass embedded itself when I climbed through the window.
The footsteps are slow.
Not frantic like the others inside the house.
I squeeze my eyes shut for half a second.
“They sent you into the woods injured?”
The voice cuts through the dark so suddenly I nearly choke on my own breath.
I turn sharply. And there he is.
Titus stands several feet away between the trees, rain soaking through his dark clothes like he stepped out here hours ago and never intended to leave. The dim moonlight catches against the silver watch at his wrist and the gun hanging loosely in one hand.
Not raised. Just there.
His eyes move slowly over me—my limp, the blood on my hands, the mud covering my knees. Something unreadable shifts in his expression.
“You landed,” he says quietly. Like he’s almost impressed.
I immediately stagger backward, pressing myself harder against the tree. “You’re insane,” I spit out.
He ignores that completely.
“You’re bleeding through your sleeve.”
“Stay away from me.”
Another step toward me. Not fast. That’s what makes him terrifying. Everyone else tonight has felt chaotic. Violent. Loud. Titus feels patient. Like he already knows something I don’t.
“I told them not to shoot at you,” he says.
A sharp laugh leaves me before I can stop it. “Oh, well, thank God for that.” His gaze flicks toward the sound of my voice. Too focused. Like he’s memorizing it.
“You’re scared,” he says after a moment.
“No shit.”
Again, he ignores the bite in my tone. Instead, he takes another slow step closer. Rain slides down the sharp edge of his jaw, disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
I stare at him in disbelief.
“You people murdered someone.”
Something strange crosses his face then. Not guilt. Almost confusion. Like the problem isn’t what happened tonight. Just that I witnessed it.
“She was chosen,” he says simply.
“She was human!”
The force of my voice echoes through the trees. For the first time, his expression changes sharply. His grip tightens slightly around the gun at his side as he looks at me like I’ve suddenly become something far more interesting than before.
“You shouldn’t yell.” He says quietly. The warning crawls down my spine.
I glance behind him instinctively, terrified someone else might hear. And Titus notices. Of course he notices. His eyes soften in a way that somehow feels worse than if he’d smiled.
“There you are,” he murmurs.
My stomach drops. “What?”
“That look.” He tilts his head slightly. “You finally understand what’s happening.” Cold rain slides down the back of my neck as I stare at him.
There’s something deeply wrong with the way he’s looking at me now. Not just curiosity but possession. Like the moment I became afraid of him, something settled into place inside his head.I tighten my grip around the broken piece of glass still clutched in my hand. “If you come any closer, I swear to God—”
“To do what?” he asks softly.
And somehow that’s worse than mocking me. Because he sounds genuinely curious. Like he wants to see what I’d do. I back away again, my injured ankle nearly giving out beneath me. His gaze drops instantly to the movement. Concern flashes across his face so briefly I almost think I imagined it.
“You’re going to collapse if you keep putting weight on it.”
“Why do you care?”
Silence. Rain patters softly against the leaves overhead.
“Because they’ll find you before dawn if you slow down.” The words settle heavily between us. As if he’s separating himself from the rest of them. As if that changes anything. I shake my head slowly, breathing harder now. “You’re one of them.”
Something unreadable darkens in his eyes.
“Yes,” he says.
Then he takes another step toward me.
“But I’m the only reason you’re still alive.”
His gaze drops instantly to the movement. Concern flashes across his face so briefly I almost think I imagined it.
“You’re going to collapse if you keep putting weight on it.”
“Why do you care?”
Silence. Rain patters softly against the leaves overhead.
“Because they’ll find you before dawn if you slow down.” The words settle heavily between us. As if he’s separating himself from the rest of them. As if that changes anything. I shake my head slowly, breathing harder now. “You’re one of them.”
Something unreadable darkens in his eyes.
“Yes,” he says.
Then he takes another step toward me.
“But I’m the only reason you’re still alive.”
The rain falls harder between us.
Cold drops slide down my face, soaking through my clothes until everything feels heavy and numb, but I can still feel him staring at me like he’s trying to pull me apart layer by layer. I tighten my grip on the broken shard of glass.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No,” Titus says calmly. “I expect you to stop standing in the open before somebody else finds you.” Somewhere deeper in the woods, voices echo faintly through the trees. Searching. My stomach twists instantly. Titus glances toward the sound, then back at me. Completely composed. Like the shouting doesn’t concern him at all.
“You should go,” I whisper.
His eyes narrow slightly. “You want me to?”
“Yes.” But it comes out weaker than I meant it to.
Because the truth is, I don’t know which possibility is worse anymore.. him staying, or him leaving me alone out here.
The realization makes me angry immediately and he notices.
A faint smile touches his mouth before disappearing just as quickly. “You’re shaking.”
“It’s freezing.”
“That’s not why.”
I hate how quietly he says things. Like every word is meant only for me. Like we’re sharing something intimate instead of standing in the middle of a nightmare. I push myself off the tree, trying to limp backward despite the pain in my ankle.
“I’m leaving.”
“You can barely walk.”
“I’d rather crawl.”
That earns a soft exhale from him that almost sounds like a laugh. I turn sharply, forcing myself deeper into the trees.
One step. Two.. Pain shoots through my ankle so hard I stumble instantly with a sharp gasp, catching myself against another tree. Before I can recover, Titus is there. One hand catches my arm, warm despite the rain.
I jerk away immediately. “Don’t touch me.”
“You’re going to hurt yourself worse.”
“I think that stopped mattering an hour ago.”
For a second, something unreadable flickers across his face. His gaze drifts over the blood smeared across my palm from the broken window earlier. Then lower. To the way I can barely stand.
“You shouldn’t have jumped.”
“You shouldn’t have pulled a knife on me.”
“That’s fair.” He shrugged
I stare at him. The response catches me so off guard I almost forget to pull away. Titus watches my expression carefully, head tilted slightly like he’s fascinated by every reaction I have. And suddenly I understand why he scares me so much. It’s not because he’s loud or cruel. It’s because he feels focused.
Like from the second he grabbed me in that hallway, something in him decided I mattered. Too much. The thought sends another chill through me. His eyes flick toward my face again.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“That look.”
I swallow hard. “Stop saying that.”
“You keep looking at me like you’re trying to figure out if I’m going to kill you.”
“Aren’t you?”
His gaze lingers on me for a long moment. “No.. or not yet at least.”
The answer comes so easily it unsettles me more than if he’d hesitated. Rainwater drips from the ends of his grey hair as he takes one slow step closer.
“But I do think you’re going to keep running from me.”
My pulse skips. “What?”
“You haven’t stopped trying to leave since I met you.”
“That’s because you’re insane.”
Another almost-smile.
“You already said that.”
“Because you keep proving it.”
Somewhere behind us, branches snap. Voices this time closer. I tense immediately, turning toward the sound. Titus notices the fear cross my face and something about his expression changes instantly. “Come here,” he says quietly.
“No.”
The flashlight beam appears faintly between the trees. Too close. Titus steps forward before I can move away, grabbing my wrist and pulling me backward behind a thicker cluster of trees. I collide hard against his chest. My breath catches.
“Quiet,” he murmurs near my ear.
The flashlight sweeps past nearby. I can hear people talking now.
“She couldn’t have gone far.”
“Danforth wants her found before morning.”
A horrible feeling curls in my stomach. Not rescued, found.
Titus’s hand remains loosely around my wrist the entire time, his thumb resting against my pulse like he can feel how frantic it is. The voices slowly drift farther away. Only then does he let go. I step back immediately.
He lets me but his eyes don’t leave mine for even a second.
“You’re scared of me,” he says softly.
“What gave it away?” i scoff
His mouth twitches slightly. Then his gaze lowers to the shard of glass still clutched in my hand.
“You’re holding that wrong.”
“What?”
“If you stab someone with broken glass like that, it’ll split your palm open.”
I blink at him. “Why would you tell me that?”
“In case you try.” The answer settles strangely between us. Rain taps softly through the leaves overhead while we stare at each other in the dark.
And for one awful second, the tension shifts. Titus steps closer again, slow enough that I could move if I wanted to. I don’t. That realization terrifies me more than anything else tonight. His eyes flick briefly to my mouth before lifting again.
“Am I making you feel sick?” he tilts his head slightly with a small smirk peeking from the corner of his mouth.
A pit drops in my stomach.
Because the worst part is that he sounds amused.
I tighten my grip around the broken glass until it digs painfully into my palm. “You should stay away from me.”
Rain slips down Titus’s face as he watches me carefully, eyes moving between my expression and the trembling hand holding the shard.
“And yet,” he says quietly, “you haven’t run.”
“I tried.”
“You limped three feet.”
Despite everything, a disbelieving laugh escapes me. Short. Nervous. Wrong.
His mouth twitches faintly like he noticed.
I hate that he noticed.
The woods stretch dark around us, rain pattering softly through the leaves overhead while distant voices drift somewhere far behind. Searchers. Hunting parties. I can still hear occasional shouts carrying through the trees.
Titus glances toward the sound before looking back at me.
“You need to stay quiet.”
“You need psychiatric help.”
“That too.”
I stare at him.
He says things so calmly it throws me completely off balance. Like we’re having some strange conversation at a coffee shop instead of standing in the middle of a murder hunt.
“You’re unbelievable,” I mutter.
“And you’re bleeding.”
I glance down automatically at my hand where glass still protrudes from my palm. Blood mixes with rainwater, dripping slowly between my fingers.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not.”
“I don’t remember asking for your opinion.”
“You keep talking like you’re not about to pass out.”
That shuts me up immediately because unfortunately he’s right. My ankle throbs violently, adrenaline fading just enough for exhaustion to start creeping in. I sway slightly where I’m standing.
Titus notices instantly.
Of course he does.
His expression shifts almost imperceptibly. “Sit down before you fall down.”
“No.”
“You’re stubborn.”
“And you’re psychotic.”
“Probably.”
Again with that calm honesty.
It unsettles me more every time.
I back away another step, trying to ignore the pain in my ankle. “I’m leaving.”
“You don’t know where you are.”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“You won’t.”
Something sharp flashes through me then. Fear. Frustration. Exhaustion. All of it colliding at once.
“Why do you keep acting like you care?” I snap. “You were in that house too.”
For the first time since meeting him, Titus goes quiet.
Rain taps softly against the leaves around us while he looks at me with an expression I can’t read.
Then—
“Because I saw you before they did.”
The answer lands strangely in my chest.
“What does that even mean?”
His gaze flicks briefly over my face before he looks away toward the trees. “It means they would’ve treated you like prey immediately.”
“And you’re not?”
His jaw tightens slightly.
“That depends.”
Cold crawls down my spine.
“On what?”
“Whether you keep running from me.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “That sounded way creepier out loud, by the way.”
A soft breath leaves him that almost sounds like a laugh.
And somehow that’s the exact moment I realize I need to get away from him immediately.
Because I’m starting to get used to him.
The thought terrifies me enough that I turn sharply and force myself deeper into the woods despite the pain.
“Told you not to do that,” Titus calls behind me.
“Stop following me!”
“You’re limping loud enough for half the county to hear you.”
I ignore him and keep moving anyway.
One step. Two.
Then my ankle finally gives out completely.
A sharp cry leaves me as I stumble hard down the muddy slope ahead, catching myself against wet leaves before sliding the rest of the way down onto my knees.
“Shit—”
Pain shoots through my leg instantly.
Before I can scramble back up, another voice cuts through the dark.
“Well, there you are.”
My head snaps up.
A man stands several feet away beneath the trees, flashlight hanging loosely from one hand. Older than Titus. Smiling in a way that immediately makes my stomach twist.
His eyes flick over me slowly. Muddy knees. Bleeding hand. Injured ankle.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he says softly. “You really picked the worst direction to run.”
I immediately try to push myself backward.
The man kneels in front of me.
“Easy now. I’m not gonna hurt you.”
Every instinct in my body screams “liar”.
I glance behind me desperately toward where Titus disappeared up the slope.
The man notices and smiles wider as he stands up.
“Ah,” he murmurs. “So that’s what this is.”
“What?”
“You found Titus first.”
Fear spikes instantly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Mhm.”
He kneels toward me again.
I scramble backward harder, grabbing blindly for anything nearby. My fingers close around a fallen branch. Pathetic weapon. But still, I swing it at him when he reaches down toward me. He catches it easily.
“Okay,” he sighs. “We’re not doing this.”
His grip suddenly closes around my wrist.
I panic immediately, twisting violently against him. “Let go of me!”
“You’re making this difficult.” He reaches for his pocket, pulling out a knife. My eyes widen as i try to move away, almost flipping over to my side before he pushes me back on my back with the knife sinking into my shoulder. My non injured hand comes to my mouth to cover my cry.
And suddenly he’s ripped away from me and I barely process what happens through my teary eyes. One second he’s holding me. The next Titus has him slammed backward against a tree. Hard enough to make both of them grunt.
“What did I say,” Titus says quietly, “about touching things that belong to me?”
My stomach drops. The other man blinks in surprise before laughing once. “Oh, you were serious.”
“Very.” The air between them changes instantly. The man lifts his hands slightly. “Relax. I was just helping.”
“You fucking stabbed her.”
“She’s running through the woods already bleeding. I assumed she was available.” Something cold flashes across Titus’s face so quickly I almost miss it.
“She isn’t.” The man studies him for a long moment before finally stepping back. “Wow,” he mutters. “You’ve officially lost the point of the game.”
“Leave.”
For the first time all night, I watch someone actually hesitate around Titus.
Then the man sighs dramatically and starts backing away from the trees. “Fine. She’s your problem.” The man disappears back to the estate.
Silence settles again. Then Titus turns toward me and immediately crouches down in front of me like the last thirty seconds never happened.
“Let me help” He reaches to pull the kife out.
“Get away from me..” I grunt as i sit up. He stands back up, putting his hand up in surrender, leaning back on a tree. I grab the handle of the blade, taking a deep breath as i slowly pull it out, cries and yelps coming from my lips. Shaking as i slam it on the ground. I look down at my shirt, tearing off a bit of cloth and wrapping it around my shoulder.
“You’re shaking.”
“Well I did just get stabbed.” I stated like it was obvious. “Why’d you call me that?”
“Call you what?”
“Yours..” My face burns instantly despite the freezing rain. He just stays silent, staring at my body on the ground. “You’re insane.”
“There it is again.” He crosses his arms, leaning off the tree.
I push myself backward away from him immediately, heart pounding too hard. “Stay away from me.” But the slope beneath me is slick with mud. The second I try standing again, my injured ankle buckles.
Titus catches me before I hit the ground. One arm wraps around my waist automatically, steadying me against his chest. For one strange second neither of us move. Rain falls softly around us while his hand remains firm against my side, warm even through my soaked clothes. He looks down at me with that same terrifying focus from earlier.
“You can barely walk,” he says quietly.
“I’ll manage.”
“No. You won’t.”
Before I can react, he bends and lifts me effortlessly into his arms.
“What the hell are you doing?!” I hiss.
“Keeping you alive.”
“I am not going anywhere with you!”
“You already are.”
I shove weakly against his shoulder while he starts moving through the trees.
“Titus!”
“Be quiet.”
“You kidnapped me!”
“You jumped out a second-story window. I’m adapting.”
I hate that part of me almost laughs. That probably scares me more than him carrying me deeper into the woods. Pain burns sharp beneath my collarbone where the knife caught me earlier, hot even through the cold rain soaking my clothes. I suck in a sharp breath and tense instinctively against him and he notices immediately.
His grip shifts at once, one arm moving more carefully beneath my back instead of pressing against my shoulder.
“Sorry,” he mutters.
I blink at him. Sorry?
“You kidnapped me,” I say through gritted teeth. “You don’t get to apologize like this is normal.”
“You’re bleeding on my shirt.”
“That’s your biggest concern?”
“It’s an expensive shirt.”
Despite myself, a weak laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
Titus glances down immediately. I look away from him instantly, embarrassed for reasons I absolutely do not have time to unpack right now. “You’re weird.”
“You’re saying that like it’ll become new information.”
The trees begin thinning slightly ahead of us. Through the rain, I can make out the outline of some small structure hidden deeper in the woods. My stomach twists immediately.
“No.”
Titus keeps walking.
“Nope, absolutely not. I’m not going in some creepy murder cabin with you.”
“It’s a hunting lodge.”
“That somehow made it worse.”
A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth before disappearing again. He ducks beneath a low branch carefully enough that it doesn’t brush against me. Again, that strange carefulness. Like he keeps forgetting I’m terrified of him. Or maybe he knows and just doesn’t care.
The cabin comes into view fully a few seconds later. Small. Old wood. One dim light glowing near the porch.
Warmth spills faintly through the windows. I immediately start struggling again. “Put me down.”
“You can’t walk.”
“I’ll crawl.”
“You say that a lot.”
“Because I mean it!”
My movement jerks my shoulder accidentally and white-hot pain slices through me hard enough that I gasp out loud. Titus stops immediately and his entire expression changes.
“What hurts?”
I stare at him. “Are you serious?”
“The shoulder?”
“I don't know maybe the knife wound, Titus.”
His jaw tightens sharply at the words knife wound like hearing it out loud irritates him somehow. Rain drips from his hair as his eyes lower carefully toward the blood soaking through my sleeve.
“You should’ve told me it was worse.”
“I didn’t think you cared!”
“I care enough to keep you conscious.”
“That’s not comforting!”
He exhales softly through his nose before climbing the porch steps. The old wood creaks beneath his boots. The second he pushes open the door, warmth wraps around us both. A fire crackles low inside the cabin. I suddenly realize how freezing I’ve been. Titus carries me inside and kicks the door shut behind us before finally lowering me carefully onto an old couch near the fireplace. The second my shoulder touches the cushions, pain shoots through me. I hiss sharply through my teeth. Titus is crouching in front of me instantly.
“Let me see it.”
“No.”
“You’re injured, and now you’re bleeding on my antique furniture.”
“You are unbelievable.”
His eyes flick briefly toward my face before lowering again to the blood staining my sleeve. “Take the jacket off.”
“No.”
“It needs pressure.”
“You could also murder me in here pretty easily.”
“If I wanted to murder you,” he says calmly, “I would not have carried you through the rain first.”
I hate that the logic almost tracks. Titus waits another second before sighing quietly.
“You’re making this difficult.”
“You’re a homicidal lunatic.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
I stare at him. Then my shoulder throbs again hard enough to make my eyes water and I finally mutter, “Fine.”
Titus moves closer carefully this time, slow enough that I could pull away if I wanted to. His fingers brush lightly against the edge of my soaked jacket. “Lift your arm.”
I do and instantly regret it. Pain tears through my shoulder hard enough that I suck in a broken breath. Titus freezes.
“Easy,” he says quietly.
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
I glare at him through the pain while he gently slides the jacket down my injured arm inch by inch. The fabric sticks slightly to the blood underneath. Another sharp gasp escapes me.
His expression darkens immediately. “Sorry.”
Again with the apologies. It throws me off every single time.
Once the jacket finally slips free, Titus’s eyes settle on the wound fully for the first time. And something about his face changes. The amusement disappears completely. The teasing. All of it.
“You lost more blood than I thought.”
The sudden seriousness in his voice makes anxiety twist harder in my chest. I glance down finally. Blood stains across my shoulder and down the side of my shirt in ugly dark streaks. Not pouring anymore, but definitely not good.
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” Titus says softly.
I look back up at him. “That’s a lot calmer than I would’ve reacted.”
“You screamed earlier. I assumed you covered it.”
“That’s fair.”
A tiny smile almost appears on his face again before fading. He stands and disappears briefly into another room. I hear cabinets opening somewhere before he returns with a small first aid kit and a clean towel. The second I see the alcohol bottle, I immediately lean away.
“No.”
“It needs cleaned.”
“No.” I shake my head
“You’d rather get an infection?”
“I’d rather pass away peacefully.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“I’m stabbed!”
That finally earns an actual laugh from him. Low and brief and completely unfair considering the circumstances. Then he kneels in front of me again.
“Hold still.”
The cold antiseptic touches the wound and I jerk instantly with a sharp cry.
“Jesus Christ—”
Titus catches my wrist automatically before I can shove him away. “I know.”
“That burns!”
“I’m aware.”
“You sound weirdly calm about this!”
“I’ve stitched worse.”
“Oh my God.” I hiss
He presses the towel gently against my shoulder to stop the bleeding again while I stare at him in fresh horror.
“You are literally the scariest person I’ve ever met.”
“And yet,” he says quietly, eyes lifting to mine again, “you’re still letting me touch you.”
The realization hits me all at once. His hand is still wrapped around my wrist. And despite every survival instinct screaming at me, I haven’t pulled away.
Synopsis : Heeseung has been gone on tour for a couple months.. Every night you guys were on the phone, all you could do was tease him. Now that he’s back, there ain’t nothing holding him back
Parings : idol!heeseung - gf!reader
Warnings : smut!, breading kink, use of pet names, oral (f!receiving), titty play, praise kink
An : Bring dada back we all say in unison!! But for this story we’re just gunna pretend he’s still in enhypen 💔 This song is SO sexy wtf?! And i hate this story but i thought i should put it out there.. Enjoy my babes! 💌
Forever
Jessie Murph & 6LACK
0:24 ─●──────── -3:12
↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺
─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────
The first thing you noticed when you woke up that morning was your phone.
No notifications.
Which was strange—because for the past two months, your mornings always started the same way: a message from Heeseung. Sometimes a voice note, sometimes a belurry picture from backstage, sometimes just a simple “miss you.”
Today? Nothing.
You stared at the screen for a second longer than you needed to, your chest tightening just slightly before you shook it off.
Right.
He was coming home today.
The thought sent a small, electric feeling down your spine. You sat up slowly, pulling your blanket tighter around you as the realization settled deeper. After weeks of late-night calls, teasing comments, and conversations that always ended with both of you wanting more than distance allowed—he was finally back.
Physically back. In the same city. Close enough to touch. Your stomach flipped.
⸻
The teasing had started as a joke. At least, that’s what you told yourself.
The first week he left for tour, everything felt normal. You missed him, of course—but it was manageable. You talked every night, falling into an easy rhythm.
Then one night, somewhere between laughter and exhaustion, you’d said something you probably shouldn’t have.
Something teasing, something suggestive.
And the way he went quiet on the other end of the phone? That should’ve been your first warning.
“Say that again.”
His voice had dropped—lower, slower, something unfamiliar curling through it. You didn’t. You laughed it off, changed the subject.
But the next night, you did it again.
And the night after that.
And then it wasn’t a joke anymore.
It became a game, a dangerous one.
You’d call him when he was in his hotel room, fresh out of the shower, his hair still damp. He’d be sprawled across the bed, phone angled just right so you could see the sharp line of his jaw, the way his shirt clung slightly to his chest.
And you’d push.
Little comments. Innocent on the surface, but layered enough that he always caught on.
“You look tired,” you’d say softly.
“I am.”
“Mm… that’s a shame. I had plans for you when you got back.” Silence. Every time.
Then his eyes would darken just a little, his tongue pressing against his cheek as he exhaled slowly.
“You really need to stop talking like that.”
“But you like it.” Another pause.
“…yeah.”
His voice would come out rougher than before. And that’s when you knew you had him.
Weeks went by like that. Teasing. Pushing. Testing how far you could go before he snapped. And the thing was—Heeseung was patient. Too patient.
He never lost control on those calls. Never gave you exactly what you were fishing for. He’d get quiet instead, watching you through the screen with that intense, unreadable gaze. Like he was memorizing you. Like he was waiting.
“You’re gonna regret this when I get back.” He’d said it once, casually, like it didn’t mean anything. But the way your stomach dropped told you otherwise.
By the final week of tour, the tension was unbearable. Every call felt heavier. Every word carried weight.
You could feel it in the way he looked at you now—no longer just amused, but something sharper. Hungrier.
“You miss me?” you asked one night, your voice softer than usual. He didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he leaned closer to the camera, eyes locked onto yours like he could see straight through the screen.
“I think about you all the time.” Your breath caught.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I know.” A pause. Then, quieter—
“I miss you in ways you don’t even understand.” That should’ve scared you. It didn’t.
If anything, it made you push harder.
And now—He was back.
The knock on your door came earlier than you expected. Your heart stuttered instantly. For a second, you just sat there, staring at it. Then it came again. Slower this time. Deliberate.
Your stomach twisted as you stood up, your feet carrying you forward almost automatically. You didn’t even check who it was. You already knew. The moment you opened the door, your breath caught in your throat.
Heeseung stood there, dressed simply—dark hoodie, black pants, hair slightly messy from travel. But it wasn’t his appearance that hit you. It was his presence. Heavy. Intense. Different.
His eyes locked onto yours immediately, scanning your face like he hadn’t seen you in years instead of months.
And then—
He stepped inside without asking.
The door clicked shut behind him. The sound echoed. Loud. Final.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. You just stood there, a few feet apart, staring at each other.
Your heart was pounding so hard it almost hurt.
“Hi,” you said finally, your voice quieter than you expected. His jaw tightened slightly. “Hi.”
That was it. No hug. No soft reunion. Just tension. Thick and suffocating. Your fingers curled slightly at your sides.
“You’re back.”
“Yeah.” Another pause.
Then—
“You’ve been having a lot to say while I was gone. Your breath hitched. There it was. That tone. Low. Controlled. Dangerous. You swallowed, trying to keep your composure. “What, I can’t talk to my boyfriend?” His eyes darkened instantly at that.
“Talk?” he repeated slowly, stepping closer. Your pulse spiked as the distance between you shrank. “That’s what you call it?” You forced a small smile, even as your heart raced. “What would you call it?”
He stopped right in front of you. Close enough that you could feel his warmth. Close enough that if you leaned forward even slightly
“You were teasing me.” Your breath caught as his hand lifted, fingers brushing lightly against your chin before tilting your face up. “Every night.”
Your stomach flipped. “And you thought I’d just let that go?” His voice dropped even lower. You should’ve backed up. You didn’t. Instead, you whispered—
“Maybe I wanted to see what you’d do about it.” That did it. You saw the exact moment something in him snapped. His gaze dropped to your lips for a fraction of a second before returning to your eyes.
“You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me. Your breath came out uneven. “Then show me.”
The words slipped out before you could stop them. And the second they did—Heeseung went very, very still.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Charged. Heavy with everything that had been building for months. His thumb brushed against your lower lip, slow, deliberate. Testing. Like he was holding himself back by a thread.
“You’re still running your mouth,” he murmured. But there was no humor in it. Only warning. Your heart was racing now, your body hyper-aware of how close he was, how easily he could—
His hand suddenly dropped from your face. Not pulling away. Just… moving. Sliding down your arm, your wrist— And then gripping it. Firm. Unyielding. Your breath hitched. “Heeseung—”
“Bedroom.”
One word. Low. Final.
Your stomach dropped. Not from fear— From anticipation. From the way your body reacted instantly, heat curling deep in your chest as he started pulling you with him. You stumbled slightly, barely keeping up as he led you down the short hallway like he already knew exactly where he was going.
Like he’d imagined this. Over and over again. The door pushed open. You barely had time to process anything before he turned, pulling you into him again—closer this time, one hand braced beside your head against the wall, the other still gripping your wrist.
“Last chance,” he muttered, his lips hovering just barely above yours. Your breath trembled. “For what?” His eyes flickered, dark and sharp. “To stop talking.” A beat. Your lips parted. “…make me.”
He hooked his fingers in the waistband and pulled, dragging the panties down your legs in one slow, revealing motion. When they were off, tossed aside, he settled back between your thighs, his gaze fixed on your exposed core. His breath hitched. “Look at you,” he whispered, reverence and lust mingling in his tone. “All for me.”
He didn’t enter you. Not yet. He lowered himself, his chest brushing against your sensitized breasts, and kissed a trail down your stomach. When he reached the junction of your thighs, he paused, his face so close you could feel his breath on your most intimate skin. Then he looked up at you, his eyes holding yours. “You said you’d squirt for me,” he stated, the words blunt and heavy with intent. “That you’d lose control and soak me. I’ve been thinking about that. Every night.”
The admission, so raw and explicit, sent a fresh wave of heat through you. You’d said it in the dark, a whispered fantasy, but now it was a goal, a demand hanging in the air between you.
He didn’t wait for a reply. He lowered his mouth.
The first touch of his lips against your clit was soft, almost reverent. Then his tongue flattened and licked a broad, slow stripe up your slit. You jolted, a sharp cry escaping you. He did it again, then again, establishing a rhythm that was relentless and focused. His hands came up to grip your thighs, holding you open for him, as his tongue explored you, dipped inside you, circled your clit with increasing pressure. The pleasure built fast, a tight coil winding in your belly. You could feel yourself getting wetter, the slippery evidence of his attention coating his chin.
He lifted his head for a moment, his lips glistening. “You’re close,” he observed, his voice thick. “I can feel you tightening.” He then replaced his tongue with his thumb, pressing firmly on your clit as he slid one finger, then two, inside you. They curled, seeking, and found that spot deep within that made your vision blur. He pumped his fingers slowly, deeply, while his thumb worked your clit in circling presses.
The dual sensation was unbearable. The coil snapped. Your orgasm crashed over you, a wave of pure, sharp ecstasy that clenched every muscle in your body. You arched off the bed, a broken moan tearing from your throat as the pleasure detonated, radiating out from your core in pulsating waves. He kept his fingers moving inside you, milking the climax, until the sensations began to ebb into a trembling aftershock.
He watched you come down, his eyes burning with satisfaction. He withdrew his fingers, slick and shining, and held them up for you to see. “That was just the first,” he promised. His voice dropped, taking on a darker, more serious tone. “Now it’s my turn. I haven’t felt you for months. I need to be inside you. Deep inside you.”
He shifted his weight, moving up your body. His cock, hard and urgent, pressed against your inner thigh. He leaned over you, his face inches from yours. “I’m not going to pull out,” he stated, the words deliberate, heavy with consequence. “You know that, right? All those times you teased me about what we’d do when I got back… this is it. I’m going to fill you up. I’m going to claim you. Properly.”
The statement—the breeding focus—sent a different kind of shock through you. It was primal, dangerous, a gamble with real stakes. It heightened everything, the raw need in his eyes, the possessive grip of his hands on your hips. It wasn’t just sex; it was a reclaiming, a deliberate act with weight. Your breath caught in your throat, a mix of fear and overwhelming desire tightening your chest. You nodded again, a silent agreement to the risk, to the promise.
He positioned himself, the head of his cock nudging against your soaked, sensitive opening. He looked down, watching as he began to push inside. The stretch, the fullness, after so long empty, was exquisite. He entered slowly, letting you feel every inch as he reclaimed the space that belonged to him. When he was fully seated, buried deep within you, he paused, his body trembling with the effort of control. He was so deep you could feel him pressing against your very core.
“God,” he choked out, his eyes closed for a second. Then he opened them, looking at you with a ferocious possessiveness. “You feel… perfect. Mine.”
He began to move. His thrusts were slow, deep, and deliberate at first, each one a measured reclamation. You could feel the drag of his cock inside you, the perfect friction, the way he hit that deep spot with every inward stroke. Your hands scrabbled at his back, clutching him as the pleasure began to build again, hotter and thicker than before.
His pace gradually increased, driven by a hunger that was months old. His hips pistoned, driving him into you with growing force. Your breasts, freed and sensitive, bounced with the rhythm of his thrusts, a jiggling, mesmerizing movement that he watched, his gaze flicking down to them even as he drove into you. The sight seemed to spur him on, his thrusts becoming harder, faster.
The friction, the depth, the sheer claiming of it, was pushing you toward another peak. Your breaths came in sharp gasps, matching the rhythm of his hips. You could feel yourself tightening around him, the pressure building in a different way—not just pleasure, but a deep, internal pressure that felt like… release.
He sensed it. He fucked you harder, his grip on your hips bruising in its intensity. “Let go,” he growled, his voice raw and commanding. “Do it. Soak me. Show me what you promised.”
The command, combined with the relentless, deep pounding, broke the last of your control. The climax didn’t crest; it erupted. A gush of hot liquid burst from you as your muscles convulsed, a wave of fluid soaking his cock, his thighs, the sheets beneath you. The squirting orgasm was violent, overwhelming, a total surrender. You screamed, your body bowing off the bed as the flood released, a tangible proof of your absolute submission to his possession.
He didn’t stop. He rode through your climax, his thrusts becoming ragged, his own control shattering. As you trembled beneath him, soaked and spent, he drove into you one last, deep time, and groaned, a long, broken sound of release. You felt the hot rush of him filling you, spilling deep inside, claiming you in the most fundamental way. He collapsed onto you, his weight heavy and satisfying, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered,
Warnings : smut, age gap, use of y/n, semi public sex 🫣
An : I could not decide between Carlos or Leonnn.. With the new game i’d thought i’d do Leon for funsies!! Also this takes place in modern times. Don’t worry i’ll be uploading some stray kids and enhypen stories soon enough!! Enjoy my babes! 💌
Put It On Me
Matt Maeson
.ılılılllıılılıllllıılılllıllı.
0:24 ─●──────── -3:23
↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺
─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────
The afternoon sun streamed through the tall windows of Professor Leon Kennedy’s lecture hall, painting long rectangles of light across the worn wooden floor. He stood at the podium, his voice a steady, authoritative rhythm dissecting the nuances of post-modernist literature. He was forty-five, a man whose sharp mind was mirrored by a physique that hadn’t softened with age—broad shoulders under a tweed jacket, strong hands that gestured with precision. He’d taught here for fifteen years. He knew the patterns, the cycles, the ebb and flow of student fascination. Yet this semester, a single, persistent rhythm had disrupted his internal clock.
His gaze, against his own stern will, drifted to the third row, center seat. You. You are nineteen, a face among many other nineteen-year-old faces. But your’s wasn’t. It was the way you moved. When you leaned forward to scribble a note, your blouse—a simple, pale blue cotton—stretched just enough to hint at the curve of your breast. When you stood to ask a question, your hips swayed with a casual, unconscious grace that made his throat tighten. And ten minutes ago, when your pencil had rolled off your desk, you had bent to retrieve it, not with a quick grab, but with a slow, deliberate dip that offered him a view of the slender line of your back, the waistband of your jeans, the tantalizing shadow just beneath. He’d forced his eyes back to his notes, his knuckles white against the podium.
It’s wrong, he thought, the mantra a cold splash of water. You’re a student. He’s a professor. This is a classroom. But the heat in his gut, the low, persistent thrum in his blood, argued a different, primal logic. He couldn’t figure why you. Why you?
The lecture ended. Students shuffled out, a cacophony of backpacks and chatter. You lingered, as you often did, slowly packing your notebook. Your eyes met his across the room—a flash of something not quite innocent, a hint of a smile that seemed to hold a secret. Then you turned and walked out, the gentle sway of your hips a silent, torturous echo in the now-empty hall.
Leon retreated to his office, a sanctuary of books and quiet. He sank into his chair, trying to bury himself in a stack of dissertation drafts. The words blurred. His mind replayed the bend, the sway, the look. It’s just biology, he rationalized. A momentary lapse. He was a disciplined man. He would master this.
Meanwhile, across campus, in your dorm room, you was anything but disciplined. You’d lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling, your body alive with a restless, aching energy. Professor Kennedy. Leon. You had dreamed of him last night—a vivid, heated dream where his hands, those strong professor’s hands, weren’t holding books but were exploring you, touching you, claiming you. You had worn the blue blouse today for him. You’d practiced that bend for him. Every question you asked was crafted to make him look at her, to hold his gaze a second longer.
You wanted him. Not a crush. A deep, visceral want. You imagined the weight of him, the scent of him—old books and clean soap and something uniquely male. You imagined his voice, that lecture-hall baritone, dropping to a rough, intimate whisper against your skin. It made you shiver. It made you press your hand against the ache building between your thighs. He has to notice. He will.
Days passed. A week. Leon’s resolve frayed. He caught you watching him during a seminar, your legs crossed, your skirt riding up just a fraction. He saw you, one afternoon, leaning against the library shelves, a book in your hand, your thumb slowly stroking the page’s edge—a motion so unconsciously sensual it stole his breath. He began to find reasons to stay late, hoping you’d might come by for “extra help.” You did. Yesterday, you asked about a reference, standing so close he could smell your perfume—something light, like vanilla and citrus. Your finger had brushed his arm as you pointed to a text. A jolt, electric and forbidden, shot straight through him.
Today was the tipping point. It was Thursday, just after two PM. His office door was open. He was trying, desperately, to focus on a faculty memo. Then a shadow fell across the threshold.
“Professor Kennedy?”
Your voice. Soft, a little hesitant, but underneath… a thread of steel.
He looked up. You stood there, holding a copy of The Waves. You wore a simple white sundress today. It clung to your curves, the thin fabric outlining the gentle swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist. The hem brushed mid-thigh. You looked young, innocent. And utterly, devastatingly tempting.
“Y/n. Come in.” His voice sounded strained.
You stepped inside, closing the door behind you with a soft, definitive click. The sound echoed in the quiet room. You didn’t sit in the chair opposite his desk. Instead, you walked around it, coming to stand beside his chair, near the window. “I was confused about Woolf’s use of the cyclical narrative,” you said, but your eyes weren’t on the book. They were on him.
“It’s… a representation of the relentless passage of time and consciousness,” Leon managed, his academic lexicon feeling hollow.
“Relentless,” you repeated, your tongue touching your lower lip. You placed the book on his desk. Then, with a movement that seemed both deliberate and natural, you leaned over, bracing one hand on the desk, your face coming close to his. The dress tightened across her back. The scent of you—vanilla, citrus, and now the warm, clean scent of your skin—filled his space. “It feels relentless, Professor. Like a… want that just keeps coming back, no matter how you try to ignore it.”
His heart hammered against his ribs. He was frozen. This is it. The line. Cross it or stop it.
Your free hand, slowly, came to rest on his shoulder. Your touch was warm, gentle, but it burned through the tweed fabric. “Do you ever feel that?” you whispered, your eyes searching his. “A want that’s just… cyclical?”
His discipline shattered. The rational walls crumbled under the flood of raw, pent-up desire. A groan, low and helpless, escaped his throat. His hand, moving as if by its own volition, rose and cupped your cheek. Your skin was so soft. “Y/n…” he breathed, his voice now a rough, intimate thing.
“I know it’s wrong,” you said, your words tumbling out fast, hot. “I know you think it’s wrong. But I dream about you. I think about you… all the time. I wear these dresses for you. I want you to see me.”
That confession, so blunt and honest, was the final key. He had seen you. He’d wanted you. And now, you were offering yourself , here, in his office, with the sun shining and the campus alive outside.
He stood up, his body towering over yours for a moment before he pulled you close. His arms wrapped around you, feeling the slender, eager frame of you against his solid one. Your mouths met, not with tentative exploration, but with hungry, immediate collision. Your lips were sweet, responsive, opening under his. His tongue swept into your mouth, tasting you, claiming that secret space. You moaned, a high, desperate sound, and your hands clutched at his jacket, pulling him tighter.
The kiss deepened, grew messier, more urgent. His hands moved from your back, sliding down to grip your hips, feeling the firm curve of them under the thin dress. He pulled you against him, letting you feel the hard, insistent press of his arousal through his trousers. You gasped into his mouth, your body arching into the contact.
“Leon,” you whimpered, breaking the kiss to breathe his name, a student no longer, a woman wholly in the moment.
He didn’t answer with words. He answered by turning you, gently but firmly, and backing you against the edge of his sturdy oak desk. The window light bathed you now. His hands went to the hem of your sundress, gripping the soft fabric. He looked into your eyes, seeing no fear, only a blazing, impatient desire.
“This is… reckless,” he growled, the last vestige of his conscience.
“Then be reckless with me,” you challenged, your eyes glinting.
He pulled the dress up, over your hips, revealing uour thighs, then the pale, simple cotton of your underwear. He hooked his fingers in the sides and pulled them down, letting them fall to the floor. You were bare before him, exposed in the afternoon light. Your skin was flawless, and between your thighs, you were glistening, already wet, already ready for him. The sight was so profoundly erotic, so forbidden, that his vision swam.
He unfastened his trousers, pushing them and his boxers down just enough to free himself. He was fully erect, thick and eager, a physical manifestation of all the weeks of suppressed longing. He stepped closer, the head of his cock brushing against her inner thigh. She shuddered.
“Please,” you begged, your hands reaching for him, pulling him closer.
He guided himself to your entrance, the slick, hot proof of your want meeting him. Then, with a slow, controlled push, he entered you.
The feeling was exquisite, a tight, velvet warmth enveloping him. You cried out, a sharp, pleasure-filled sound that you quickly muffled against his shoulder. He sank deeper, feeling your body adjust, accept, cling to him. He was inside his student. In his office. The reality was scandalous, dangerous. And it felt incredible.
He began to move, starting with slow, deep strokes that made you gasp each time he filled you completely. Your hands scrambled over his back, under his jacket, clutching his shirt. Your hips rose to meet each thrust, your own need matching his. The desk creaked softly under your guys rhythm.
“Oh, God… Professor…” you moaned, the title now an illicit, thrilling pet name.
“Y/n,” he responded, his voice thick with passion. He drove into you harder, faster. The pace became urgent, a furious coupling fueled by weeks of fantasy and denial. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wider, taking you deeper. The wet, rhythmic sounds of their joining filled the quiet room, a stark contrast to the distant sound of students laughing outside.
Your head fell back, your throat exposed. You was panting, your breasts rising and falling rapidly under the dress still bunched around her waist. He leaned down, capturing one of your nipples through the fabric with his mouth, sucking and biting gently. You screamed, a short, sharp cry of pleasure, your body convulsing around him.
He felt your climax building, your inner muscles clutching him rhythmically, your breath becoming ragged cries. “I’m… I’m going to…” you stammered.
“Come for me,” he commanded, pounding into you with relentless, possessive force.
You did. Her body tightened, then erupted into a violent, shaking release. Your back arched off the desk, your heels digging into the floor, a long, sustained moan tearing from your lips as the orgasm ripped through you. He watched you, mesmerized by the beauty of your abandon, the total surrender to the feeling.
Your climax spurred his own. The sight, the feel, the reality of it shattered his last control. With a final, deep, grinding thrust, he buried himself in you and let go. His release was hot, intense, a flood of pleasure that locked his muscles and drew a ragged, groaning shout from his own throat. He spilled into her, his body shuddering with the force of it, his mind blank except for the pure, animal satisfaction of the act.
For a moment, they stayed locked together, panting, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat. Slowly, he softened, withdrew. You lay back on the desk, boneless, your dress a rumpled halo around your hips, your eyes dazed and satisfied.
The reality seeped back in. The office. The time. The risk. Leon quickly straightened his clothes, his mind already racing with consequences. But looking at you - your flushed skin, your contented smile—the fear was laced with a dark, triumphant thrill.
You slowly slid off the desk, finding your underwear and pulling your dress down. You looked at him, your eyes now clear and knowing. “So,” you said, your voice a soft, provocative tease.
A/N: sorry for not writing recently ive been so caught up with work. enjoy this short fic bc i literally cannot stop thinking about lino with this comeback.
lee know— typically cold faced and laid back. he wasn’t really the type to let things bother him… or at least he tried to convince himself that. he was careful, controlled. but when it came to you, it was different, difficult. a feeling he hasn’t felt in a while. yet you burned it into his heart everyday.
when it came to you, that control he once had, slipped quietly at first— like cracks forming in glass.
the first crack happened in the kitchen.
one late night after boring and meaningless meetings and work, you found yourself in the kitchen with han giggling and dying over these stupid videos he had on his feed. your head nearly rested on his shoulder, your hand swatting at him when he imitated the random sound effect out loud.
minho had only came into the kitchen to grab a drink. but he lingered just a moment too long. his eyes locked on how close you leaned in. how easily han soaked up your attention. he twisted the cap off his water bottle with a little too much force, plastic creaking in protest, water slightly dripping to the floor below his feet.
you didn’t notice him.
the second crack happened on camera
you were scrolling on your phone until a notification popped up, hyunjin was live. you smiled to yourself as an idea popped into your head, deciding to grab him some snacks. after a few moments in the kitchen of platting the snacks, you hurried over to his dorm— walking inside. you noticed minho at the end of the couch, just barely in frame of the camera.
hyunjin smiled as he noticed you, “i got you some snacks.” you warmly spoke, drifting over to him. he thanked you, taking the snacks. but then, he tugged you straight into frame, draping an arm across your waist like it was nothing… like he wasn’t live.
the chat went insane, comments flying.
@/user1938: omg y/n???
@/user1111: the way hyunjin is holding her🙂↕️
@/user000: LMAOO WHY DOES LINO LOOK MAD
minho wasn’t laughing. he wasn’t smiling. he sat stiff on the couch, eyes glued to the camera as though daring the chat to keep pointing it out. hyunjin leaned closer, you smiled too easily. way too easily. and minho’s chest burned. like your actions just tore his heart into two.
not too long after, hyunjin ended the live— setting his phone aside. minho spoke up, his words sharp, guttural. “keep your hands to yourself next time.”
hyunjin blinked in surprise, before brushing it off— taking it in a joking matter. but minho wasn’t joking. he was dead serious. he let out a huff before walking out hyunjins dorm room— slamming the door behind him.
the third crack happened during practice.
the other collapsed onto the floor in a heap, sweaty and breathless. felix slumped beside you, draping his arm lazily around your shoulders. you didn’t move, you just laughed. “are you really that tired?” you teased.
he huffed, “hey! i worked hard! you and minho always give us such hard choreo.”
he turned his head to face yours, smiling slightly. you poked his side to tease him even more, even tickling him. but— he quickly caught your wrist. holding it hostage like it was a game. your laughter filled the room. he chuckled, flipping his body to rest on-top of yours— pinning you down. “wanna keep teasing now?” his voice was playfully light.
minho watched intensively. fingers drumming against his knee faster, sharper, until it was all he could hear. his towel lightly placed around his neck, now suffocating. every second he saw felix on you only wore his patience thinner and thinner.
his voice cut through the room like a knife. “enough.”
the laughter died instantly. everyone froze. you and felix both stared at eachother stunned, before he quickly fell off of you and resting back on his palms.
minho was already standing, his gaze locked on you with such an intensity that made your stomach flip.
“y/n. with me.”
it wasn’t a request.
it was an order.
the final crack came later that evening, when he caught you smiling at your phone.
buzz. another notification. another grin.
“something funny?” he asked, his voice sharper than intended.
you glanced up from your phone, moving your curled legs to view minho. “oh, it’s just felix. he’s spamming me with memes.”
felix. again. always felix.
minho clenched his jaw, forcing himself to look away. but the taste of your laugh— the one you’d given to felix, not him, lingered bitter on his tongue.
and that’s when he knew. the glass has completely shattered.
by the time minho walked past the dorms common room later in the night, he could barely focus. you were sprawled out on the couch with your phone in hand, still laughing softly at whatever felix possibly sent you this time. the glow of the screen highlighted your smile, and it felt like a punch to his chest.
he stopped, just out of sight, gripping the wooden doorframe. his fingers dug into the wood as he tried to convince himself it didn’t matter, that THIS didn’t matter. they’re just friends. it’s nothing. don’t make it something.
but it was something. it had been something for a long time— weeks, maybe months, and he’d been pretending he didn’t feel it all along.
minho’s jaw tightened once again. every giggle he heard you slip, every little nudge or brush of contact with the others, it all built up like fire inside him. and tonight, it was roaring.
he couldn’t ignore it anymore.
he watched you for a long moment, heart pounding so fast he thought you’d hear it from the other room. your laughter— so light and carefree. it should have made him happy… but it didn’t. it made him ache. made him want to step forward, shake you gently, and say ‘stop. look at me. just. me.’
instead, he turned sharply and stormed down the hallway, unable to contain himself.
the hallway was quiet. the soft hum of the air conditioning was the only sound. his boots clicked against the floor with harsh rhythm. each step proving the tension coiling in his chest.
when he reached the end of the hall, he paused, taking a deep breath. but it didn’t help. it never did. he clenched his fists at his side, nails digging into his palms.
you followed from the common room almost instinctively, sensing something was definitely wrong. “minho…?” you called out, unsure.
he didn’t answer at first. he only kept pacing, back and fourth. the shadows of the hall stretching across his face. finally, he stopped, pivoting sharply so his eyes locked onto yours, burning with something raw and dangerous.
“you don’t get it.” he said, voice low and rough, almost shaking. “do you even realize what you’re doing to me? laughing with them… letting them get that close..? letting them… touch you.” he nearly choked on those last few words.
you froze. “minho…” you tried to speak, tried to say something. but he cut you off, stepping closer.
“no! you don’t get it! i can’t stand it! i can’t. i’ve tried to tell myself it’s fine, that it’s just friendship… that… that it doesn’t matter. but it does. every little laugh, every smile, it’s like a knife twisting in my chest. and i can’t… i can’t take it anymore!”
your heart hammered. his words hit you harder than expected. you didn’t know he felt this way…
you’d never even seen him like this. so raw, so desperate, so… alive in a way that scared and thrilled you at the same time.
he took another step closer, reducing the space between you. his eyes searched yours, almost pleading. “y/n, i can’t watch you be with anyone else. not them. not anymore. i… i want to be the one you look at like that. the one that makes you laugh. the one who gets your attention. only. me.”
for a long moment, silence hung between you. the air was electric, heavy with everything he just said so very clearly, everything he had bottled up.
you could feel the tension radiating off him, the barely restrained force of his emotions. his jaw twitched, his chest heaving. it was almost too much to bear— but at the same time, you couldn’t look away. his desperation was captivating.
he leaned slightly forward, and you realized… he was on the edge. on the edge of breaking, or saying more that he may be holding back, or… maybe both.
your instinct screamed to step closer, to reach out for him, to calm him. but a part of you hesitated— unsure of what he might do, unsure of what he might say.
then he exhaled sharply, hands flexing at his sides, and you knew there was no turning back.
“tell me exactly how you feel.” your words were soft, assuring.
that broke the tension, calming his facial expression. “i-“ he sighed, turning away. stepping closer you tugged on his hand, looking up into his eyes.
he couldn’t resist it now, it was like the words were clawing at his throat to escape. “i like you. fuck y/n i have for so long. i just want you. and i want you to only want me.”
his final confession hit like a punch to the chest. you could see it all in his posture, the tight curl of his fists, the way his jaw worked as he fought to hold himself together. he was breaking, and somehow, so vulnerable that it made your heart ache.
“minho. i like you too.” you whispered out, hand gripping his.
the moment seemed to stretch infinitely. relief, disbelief, and something like electricity passed over him all at once. his shoulders loosened just slightly, and then, almost instinctively, he cupped your face in his hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks softly. “tell me you mean it. i want to belong to you y/n.” his voice ragged, desperate.
“i mean it minho.”
the tension broke like a dam. he leaned in, forehead resting against yours, when his lips finally met yours, it was desperate and soft at the same time, like he’d been holding back months of need and jealousy and fear— and now he could finally release it all.
you kissed him back, hands resting lightly on his chest as the hallway faded around you. for a moment, it was just the two of you, and everything else— the jealousy, the frustration, it was all gone. replaced by something raw and undeniable.
when you finally pulled back, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, voice low and ragged. “you don’t know how long i’ve waited for this.”
an : thanks so much for the request!! here’s a kiss for you 💋 i actually had so much fun writing this cause i LOVE this song. also hyunjins new hair? i’m going to explode but in a good way. enjoy my babes! 💌
Fill The Void
The Weeknd, Lily Rose Depp, Jennie
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0:24 ─●──────── -3:06
↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺
─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────
You were used to the chaos backstage before a show — the whir of hairdryers, the smell of hairspray, staff yelling over each other to make sure everyone was in place. You had worked with Stray Kids for almost a year now as part of the makeup team, and somehow, the frenzy had become comforting.
The room was buzzing with energy as both groups’ staff worked side by side. You were kneeling in front of another idol — Minje, a vocalist from one of JYP’s other boy groups — carefully blending the last bit of powder into his jawline.
“You always do the best job,” Minje said suddenly, flashing you a grin.
You glanced up, caught off guard, and smiled politely. “Thanks, but you make it easy. Your skin’s perfect.”
That earned you a laugh, deep and boyish. “Careful, noona, if you compliment me like that I might get used to it.”
You rolled your eyes lightly but couldn’t help chuckling. Minje was harmless — the type of guy who flirted with everyone just to make them laugh. Still, you noticed the way he leaned a little closer as you worked on his eyeliner.
“You should come to one of our shows sometime,” he added. “I’ll make sure you get the best seat.”
Before you could answer, a low voice spoke up from behind you.
“She’s busy.”
You froze at the sound of Hyunjin’s voice.
Minje glanced up and smirked. “Hyunjin-ah, just inviting her to a concert. Don’t be so serious.”
Hyunjin didn’t reply, just stared — no, glared — at Minje for a beat too long before dropping into the chair beside him to wait for his turn.
You felt your stomach knot as you finished Minje’s makeup, sensing the storm brewing behind you. When you stood, Minje winked at you playfully before leaving, completely oblivious to the tension he had left behind.
You turned to find Hyunjin already watching you, his expression unreadable.
Hyunjin had been watching the entire time — every laugh, every smile, every little tilt of your head toward Minje.
At first, he told himself he was imagining it. You were just being polite, doing your job. But the way Minje leaned toward you, the way he made you laugh…
Hyunjin felt it like a punch to the chest.
You didn’t laugh like that with everyone. He knew that laugh — light, genuine, the one you used when you were actually enjoying someone’s company.
His grip tightened around his phone, knuckles going white.
Jealousy was an ugly feeling, one Hyunjin tried to avoid. But right now, it was eating him alive.
By the time you turned to him, he had already made up his mind. He couldn’t just sit there and watch. Not when his chest felt like it was burning.
When you reached for his brush, he didn’t smile like usual. He just sat there, tense, his jaw tight, his heart pounding with something halfway between anger and something he didn’t want to name — fear.
Normally, he’d greet you with a bright smile and a playful comment, something like, “You’re really going to make me look this good today?” But today, he had barely glanced at you when you walked into the room. He sat in the makeup chair with his phone in his hand, scrolling aimlessly, his jaw tight.
You decided not to push him. It wasn’t unusual for idols to have bad days before a show — nerves, stress, exhaustion — but something about his silence made your stomach twist.
“Hyunjin-ah, I need you to look this way,” you said softly, brushing the hair away from his face to start on his foundation. He didn’t look up immediately, but then he did, his dark eyes finding yours in the mirror.
For a moment, the world went quiet.
He was staring at you, not blankly, but with something simmering behind his gaze. His lips pressed together before he turned his head like you’d asked.
You worked in silence, trying not to overthink it. But it was hard when you could practically feel the tension rolling off of him.
When you finished with his face and stepped back, he stood up abruptly.
“Thanks,” he said shortly, not meeting your eyes, and walked out of the room before you could reply.
You frowned.
The show went on without a hitch — Stray Kids performing flawlessly as always — but you noticed Hyunjin’s glances from the stage, the way his eyes flickered to where you were standing near the side curtains. There was something sharp in his stare, something that made your pulse quicken.
After the performance, everyone was buzzing with adrenaline, laughing and shouting as they came offstage. You were gathering your brushes when you felt a presence behind you.
“Come with me.”
Hyunjin’s voice was low, almost too quiet to hear over the noise, but it was firm.
You turned, startled, and found him standing there, still a little breathless from performing, sweat clinging to his temples. His expression was unreadable, but there was no mistaking the edge in his tone.
“Hyunjin—”
“Now.”
He didn’t wait for your answer, just grabbed your wrist gently but insistently, leading you down the hallway past the bustling staff. You felt heat rising to your cheeks, not from embarrassment but from the sheer intensity of the moment.
He didn’t stop until he found an empty dressing room at the far end of the corridor.
Hyunjin growled, his voice low and dangerous as he slammed the dressing room door shut behind him. His chest heaved, the sweat from his performance still glistening on his skin, his eyes dark with a mix of jealousy and desire. “You think I didn’t notice the way he was looking at you? The way he touched you?”
You backed up instinctively, your heart racing as your back hit the cold wall. The room was dimly lit, the faint hum of the after-show chaos muffled by the thick door. Hyunjin stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, his cologne mingling with the scent of his exertion.
“Hyunjin, it wasn’t like that,” you stammered, your voice trembling as you tried to explain. But he wasn’t listening. His hand shot out, gripping your wrist and pinning it above your head. His other hand cupped your chin, forcing you to look into his fiery gaze.
“I don’t care what it wasn’t,” he hissed, his breath hot against your skin. “All I know is that I’m fucking pissed, and I’m going to make sure you remember who you belong to.”
Before you could respond, his lips crashed into yours, rough and demanding. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, claiming you with a primal urgency. You moaned into the kiss, your body responding instinctively to his dominance. His hand let go of your chin, sliding down to grab your ass, pulling you hard against him. You could feel his erection pressing into your stomach, and it sent a shiver of anticipation through you.
He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. “You’re mine,” he whispered against your throat, his voice thick with need. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair as he continued to mark you.
“Fuck yes, you are,” he growled, his hands fumbling with the hem of your shirt. He yanked it over your head without ceremony, tossing it aside. His eyes raked over your exposed skin, and he licked his lips. “I’ve been thinking about this all fucking night.”
His fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants, pulling them down along with your panties in one swift motion. You stepped out of them, feeling completely bare under his intense gaze. He knelt before you, his hands gripping your hips as he leaned in to press a kiss to your inner thigh.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin as he moved higher, kissing and biting his way up your thigh. His tongue finally found your aching core, and you let out a loud moan as he began to devour you.
His tongue was relentless, swirling around your clit before plunging into you repeatedly. Your hands gripped his hair, pulling him closer as waves of pleasure washed over you. “Hyunjin,” you whimpered, your legs trembling as he worked you expertly.
He pulled back just enough to look up at you, his lips glistening with your arousal. “You taste so fucking good,” he said, his voice hoarse. “But I need more.”
Standing abruptly, he quickly stripped off his own clothes, revealing his toned body and the throbbing length of his cock. He lined himself up with your entrance, his eyes locking onto yours. “I’m not going to be gentle,” he warned, and with that, he thrust into you hard.
You cried out, the sensation of him filling you overwhelming. He didn’t give you time to adjust, setting a brutal pace as he fucked you against the wall. His hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you into each thrust as he grunted with effort.
“This is what you wanted, right?” he panted, his voice rough with desire. “You wanted me to take you like this?”
“Yes,” you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure built inside you.
He slammed into you harder, his cock hitting that sweet spot deep inside you with every thrust. Your moans grew louder, echoing in the small room as you felt yourself teetering on the edge.
“Come for me,” he demanded, his voice a growl. “I want to feel you fucking come on my cock.”
The command pushed you over the edge, and you screamed his name as your orgasm ripped through you. Hyunjin groaned as your walls clenched around him, and with a few more thrusts, he followed you over, spilling himself inside you with a deep growl.
He stayed inside you for a moment, both of you panting and trying to catch your breath. Then he pulled out slowly, and you winced at the sensitivity.
“Don’t ever make me fucking jealous again,” he said, his tone serious but his eyes softening as he looked at you.
You nodded weakly, still recovering from the intensity of what just happened. He kissed you softly.
you stood up from your bed, leaving your freshly cleaned room— traveling downstairs. you met with a familiar face as you walked into the kitchen. “heyyy!” your brother, hoseok, dragged out. “i thought you were still sleeping.” he walked over to you, handing you a cup of coffee.
“oh no, i was cleaning.” you smiled, taking the coffee from his hands. “about time.” he scuffed, you hit him lightly. he pouted slightly, before swatting at your arm and walking away.
you giggled to yourself at the interaction. it was nice to live with your brother again, especially in a house as nice as this one. it was practically a mansion— there was nothing to complain about
well… except for one thing.
kim namjoon.
he was a hell of a man. he portrayed himself as a leader, caring, always taking initiative, yet gentle. and he really, truly was.
but there was something only you and namjoon shared. just a few years ago at a party hosted by jackson wang, you both got very stoned— having the best night ever. after many hits and drinks later, your night was a blur. but the next day, he was there to remind you how well you did… how good you took him.
everytime since then, that you’ve caught eye contact with namjoon, it’s all you could think about. it always crossed your mind if he did as-well.
“good morning.” a raspy voice called out from behind you. you turned to see yoongi, looking half asleep with the hood of his hoodie over his head. you grinned, “it’s 1pm.”
“so?” he cocked his head. all you could do was laugh, he was always a bit stubborn upon waking up. “want me to make you some coffee?” you asked, before sipping on your own. “would you?” his eyes glowed, face lighting up. “of course.” you replied, going to make his coffee just the way he liked it.
after it brewed you added some ice, along with a bit of milk. he didn’t like it sweet, but he always enjoyed the creamy taste of the milk.
you walked over to the bar stool he sat at, at the end of the island table. “here you go.” setting the cup down.
he lifted it to his mouth, taking a small sip— before tsking. “it’s perfect, like always. thank you y/n.” he smiled up at you. “you’re welcome.” you ruffled his hair, sitting down next to him.
but you heard footsteps approaching, tilting your head up. it was namjoon, his eyes locked with yours immediately, you noticed something different. a shift in his eyes you didn’t see before. lately he’s been acting strange around you. he’d bump into you on purpose, but not apologize— just walk away. then on other days, he’d avoid you completely. acting like you didn’t even exist.
but in that moment as he stared at you. you felt it. just like you felt it before.
“don’t mind me.” he mumbled out, shifting his body towards the fridge. you silently watched as he pushed his glasses up higher on his nose, hand in his hoodie pocket. looking just so, perfect.
jungkook then entered into the kitchen, “wow did i miss something, everyone is in here.” he joked, smiling over at me. yoongi huffed, face still in his phone.
“well i have some news for you guys.” he came over to the island counter, leaning on it. yoongi looked up from his phone, “hm?”
“jackson invited us to his party tonight.”
oh no.
just hearing that sentence felt like deja vu, the memories immediately replaying back in your head. you looked over at namjoon, his body stiff at the kitchen counter, back turned to you. “i’ll let everyone know, he said to be there by 10pm.” jungkook said before hurrying out the kitchen.
yoongi then sat up, “i’m gonna get ready for the day, see you guys later.” he muttered.
you sat still on the chair as namjoon now moved around the kitchen. you weren’t sure what to do… should you go? but what if you start reminiscing of that one night? what if it happens again? no, it’ll be better just to stay in the comfort of your own bed.
“are you gonna go?” his raspy voice spat out, turning his body to face you.
you blinked at him, gulping slightly “me?”. he looked around, before back at you— chuckling lowly. “yes you.”
you stood up straight in your chair, “i’m not sure.”
“oh come on, it’ll be fun.” he moved closer to you. he slowly placed his hands on the island infront of you, his veins pulsing. “just like you remember.” he whispered out, looking down at you. you felt frozen, unable to move, unable to blink— just captivated by his gaze.
his eyes roamed all over your face, before backing up from the counter and walking out of the kitchen.
•••
it was later that night, you contemplated actually going to this party. rummaging through the closest to find something at least half decent. suddenly, a knock at your door. “come in!”
it was yoongi, he came in looking around the room.
“you excited?” he asked, walking over to you.
looking at him with a worried expression, “can i be honest?”
he furrowed his eyebrows, “yeah, what’s up?” he said concerned, sitting at your vanity chair. sighing, you moved towards your bed— sitting down. “remember last time i went with you guys to jackson’s party, years ago.”
he nodded, listening attentively.
“and the thing i told you that happened…”
his eyes widened. he forgot about it, i mean it’s been years, of course it was only on your mind.
“no shit… that’s why you’ve been acting weird all day.” he laughed, covering his mouth. “yoongi stop, i’m just… it’s been weird between us lately and we had a moment in the kitchen once you left. i’m so nervous.”
“you’ll be fine, just don’t do it again. now that you live with us, if hobi ever found out it would ruin everything.”he leaned back in the chair.
you took his words deeply. yoongi was right. although namjoon is so captivating, you couldn’t give in. not again.
he tapped on your shoulder before walking towards your door, hand on the knob. “just enjoy yourself tonight, don’t let it stress you out.”
•••
walking down the main stairs you slung your purse over your shoulder, all the boys hovered by the front door. “finally.” jimin smiled, checking his watch. “just in time.”
you playfully shaked your head before locking eyes with namjoon, running a hand through his hair as his eyes roamed your body.
his jeans wrapping tightly around his muscular thighs, the shirt slightly unbuttoned— showcasing his collarbones. it was making you regret saying you’ll go.
“y/n can ride with me, hobi’s car will be too packed.” namjoon huskily said. yoongi looked up at you, still on the stairs. he knew this wouldn’t be a good idea.
“perfect, i’ll come with.” yoongi smiled at joon.
he clenched his jaw before looking back at me. “sounds good.” his voice was betraying him. it was obvious he wanted you alone.
•••
the car ride was silent, you laid back in the passenger seat, crossing your legs. yoongi rested in the back just on his phone. joon had his left hand on the steering wheel, and right hand on the center console.
he picked up his phone, placing it on your thigh. “pick a song.” his deep and raspy voice was making you feel things you didn’t want to right now. “it’s okay— you’re driving.” you half smiled, going to give him back his phone. but his hand held onto yours, putting it right back onto your thigh. holding his fingers there for a tad bit too long, “i said pick a song.” his index finger dragged across your exposed skin, slightly trailing under your dress before moving it back to the console.
he was playing a dangerous game, and he knew that. he knew he was getting under your skin, taking this risk all over again. but he couldn’t help himself. namjoon missed the night you two shared so eagerly, gripping at each others skin, moaning each others names, so… so deep inside you. it’s all he thought about the whole car ride
he pulled up at a liquor store, putting the car in park.
“i’m gonna get a bottle for the party, you two want anything?” he looked at you, then yoongi. “scotch whiskey would be great.” he spoke, head still down in his phone.
namjoon opened his door, and walked out.
you turned to yoongi, “did you see that?” you breathed out, hands clutching the back of the seat. “see what?” he put his phone down. “his hand- HIS HAND. he like dragged it on my thigh.” your voice was shaky. not from fear, not from nervousness— but pleasure. and that was the worst. you can’t be feeling like this, not again.
he rolled his eyes, “he’s doing it to tease you, just don’t give in.”
“you don’t think i’m trying?”
“are you that sex deprived?” he joked, raising an eyebrow.
maybe you were, maybe, just maybe that’s why you felt like this. or… you really missed his hands on your body.
a few moments later joon came back, three bottles in hand. one of them, your favorite vodka brand. eyes creasing, “how’d you know?” he let out a little chuckle. “it’s all you drink.” he said passing the whiskey to yoongi, and setting the other two bottles on your lap.
you gulped deeply. this is gonna be a long night.
•••
you finally arrived at the party, the three of you walking inside together. it was packed, full of people you didn’t recognize. following behind yoongi, he led you guys to the kitchen— where you saw the boys with jackson. “what took you guys so long?” taehyung scuffed, lifting his glass, clearly already tipsy.
jackson looked over, his smile gleaming as he saw you. “oh my god no way it’s y/n.” he jumped up, rushing over towards you. his hands finding your waist and pulling you in. “it’s been so long.” he whispered in your ear, you lifted your arms around his neck— holding him. “too long.” you chuckled.
he held you there for a good moment before pulling away, and saying hi to yoongi and namjoon.
joon’s eyes hung low, he watched the interaction between you and jackson. jealousy pulsing through his veins. why did he grab your waist so seductively? he wanted it to be him touching you like that, bringing that smirk to your lips.
you walked farther into the kitchen, pouring yourself a drink. opening the bottle namjoon bought for you. looking around you grabbed a soda can as a chaser.
after a few shots you felt better, more loosened and less anxious. you swayed your body to the music, letting go of the stress you’ve experienced lately. you made your way to the living room, closer to the dj. hair flipping, arms swinging, you felt amazing.
this is what you needed.
you felt fingers around your bare shoulder, pulling onto you slightly. turning your head you see jackson— a smile plastered on his face. “heyyy!” you shouted over the music. he pulled you closer by your arm, whispering in your ear, “can i dance with you?”
you nodded, smirking.
he wrapped his hand around your back, pulling you flush against him. “your night going good?” he murmured close to your face. “yeah, i’m feeling good.” shaking your head with a giggle. he chuckled out, “i couldn’t take my eyes off you… the way you were moving.” he teased, pulling you even closer against his tight body.
your cheeks flushed slightly, “oh really?” lowly said. he nodded, licking his lips ever so slowly. you ran your hand up the back of his neck, tilting his head. “is that why you came to touch me?”
the alcohol took over you completely. your sex deprivation reaching an all time high. you couldn’t help but tease him. jackson’s fingers dug into your back at your words, letting out a low groan in your ear. the lights flashing, and music blasting around you both making this moment so much more intimate and intense.
out the corner of your eye you saw namjoon, storming over, his eyes red, hair tussled.
he grabbed onto jackson’s shoulder, pulling him away from you— making him stumble back. “come with me.” his voice raging of jealousy. “dude what the fuck?” jackson scuffed, fixing his shirt.
but namjoon instantly tugged onto your wrist, dragging you away. you looked back at jackson’s puzzled face before turning to joon. “what is your problem!” you yelled, trying to get out of his grip, but his hand was wrapped so tightly around your wrist.
he led you down the familiar hallway, opening an unlocked room and throwing you inside— locking the door behind him. you stumbled, “what the hell is wrong with you?” throwing up your arms.
“no, what the hell is wrong with you?” he moved towards you, gripping your wrist again. “you think it’s funny making me jealous?” he hissed, his face only inches away from yours. “i-“ you were silenced by his body pressing onto yours, roughly pushing you into the wall. “i don’t get it…” he whispered, pushing the hair out of your face, “the way you dressed tonight, how you acted this morning, if i make you so horny why not just tell me?” his breath fanned out across your neck, before his teeth sunk into your skin. causing a guttural moan to escape your lips, hands gripping onto his shirt.
he smirked against your neck, kissing the bite to sooth the pain. “you missed me, you missed this.” he breathed out in-between kisses. “didn’t you?” he asked.
you tried to speak, but another moan left your lips as he sucked on your sweet spot under your ear. “answer me y/n.” his hand snaked up your body.
“y-yes…” groaning out, “good girl.” his fingers dug into your skin, pulling you into his arms— and laying you on the bed. his mouth moved fast, put his hands faster. his lips ran down your neck to your exposed chest, leaving wet kisses everywhere— claiming you as his. hands roaming up and down your torso, before sliding up your thigh slowly yet firmly. making sure he took his time with you.
“you don’t know how long i’ve been waiting for this…” he spoke into your skin, now looking down at you as he propped himself up on his forearms. “seeing you walk in the kitchen late at night only wearing an over sized hoodie…” he cupped your face. “seeing your panties as you bent over to pick something up…” he swallowed your lips, kissing them passionately. “it took everything in me not to just fuck you right there.” his forehead pressed against yours.
his knee waged it’s way between your thighs, spreading them apart. “so take me… take me now.” you muttered. he softened his eyes on you, “don’t say that, i won’t hold back.” caressing your bottom lip with his thumb.
“so don’t.”
you were such a tease. he took no time sliding off your dress, he pulled you roughly down to the end of the bed— flipping your body over.
pulling down his pants as you arched your back for him. “fuck.” he groaned out just viewing your ass. his hand traced over your underwear before slowly slipping them off. he took his middle and ring finger to your slit, sliding up and down. “you’re dripping…” he hissed, cock growing bigger and bigger in his boxers. he stuffed his fingers inside you, curling them just the way you needed.
“you like that sweetheart?” he asked, trailing his hand down your bare back. you nodded with your face in the bed. his fingers went faster and faster, curling into your sweet spot making deep sounds escape your lips. sounding like heaven to him.
“please-“ you moaned out, gripping onto the bed, “i need you.”
“tell me that again darling.” he whined, already lining his cock up with your entrance.
whimpering, “please fuck me joon!”
he slowly worked his way inside you, every inch stretching you wider and wider. he hissed as your walls clenched around his cock, making it hard for him to not crumble already.
he placed his hands on your hips, pulling you back and forward on his cock, his eyes focused on your lips gripping around it. “ssshit” he groaned, throwing his head back
he went faster, harder. his cock filling you up just right,
thrust thrust thrust
your moans filled the room, his sweat dampened chest leaned forward onto your back as he continued to drill you. “you’re so perfect, made just for me, just for this cock.”
his words threw you over the edge, arching your back further, his hand cupped under your stomach anchoring you against his chest, still fucking you senselessly. “you like that baby? being all mine?”
moaning out into the blanket, gripping the sheets— you nodded. “that’s my good girl, you’re taking me so well.” he praised, holding you tighter.
you couldn’t take the praises anymore, the feeling of his cock ramming inside you, so overstimulating. “still have that praising kink i see…” he lowly chuckled in your ear.
“j-joon…” you moaned out, “i-im close…”
“i know baby girl, hold out a little longer… let the feeling build up in your core.” he whispered, holding your throat from the back now. you clenched around his cock, ready to release, but you obeyed. letting the sensation build higher and higher.
his thrusts slowed, but remained hard and sensual. you were so sensitive— ready to burst at any second, you tightened even more around him. “fuck y/n.” he groaned, pushing you up right to finish fucking you standing up. “come on, cum as you watch yourself in that mirror.” he pointed to the one behind the bed, covering the whole wall.
you watched in the mirror as your body bounced from every pound, face hazy, hair a mess. completed ruined by him.
“let go darling, you can do it for me.” he murmured into your neck, leaving soft kisses. as his tip hit your cervix it was the final pushover, making you release all over his cock.
“that’s my good girl.” pounding you harder, hiding out your high as he came close to his. your legs shook underneath him, moving his hand to your clit— rubbing soft circles as he pulled out, cumming on your back. guttural moans leaving his lips. he ripped off his shirt, using it to clean you up. “you did so well sweetheart.” he murmured in your ear, holding you close. he started to leave kisses on your shoulder, moving his way up to your neck.
you stared at him through the mirror, chest still heaving. his eyes locked with yours— “look at how beautiful you are.”
you nearly melted in his grip again.
“let’s find you a bathroom.”
•••
he stood close cleaning you up better in the empty, dim lit, bathroom. his hands so gentle, making you forget how rough he just was with you. fixing your dress he looked down at you. “y/n…”
fluttering your eyelashes up at him you hummed, tilting your head.
“i don’t want it to be like this.” his hands rested on your waist.
“like what?” you asked.
“this. this weird fucking stage. y/n, i’m addicted to you. i’ve been for years.” his voice was low, yet needy. “i want you… i want you to be mine.” namjoon trailed his other hand up the back of your neck, filling his fist full of your hair— gently.
you gasped softly.
he smirked, pulling you in for a kiss. it was so passionate. his lips perfect for yours.
“i want you too but…” you leaned back, “my brother… it’ll cause a problem…”
“i don’t care what hobi thinks. i care about you, i want you to be with me… safe in my arms.” he spoke, lips brushing against yours. “joon…”
“i promise it’ll be worth it, i’ll show you y/n. i’ll be everything you need and more.”
•••
it was after the party, you, yoongi, and namjoon sat in the car. joon was bare chested since he dirtied his shirt cleaning his cum off you. yoongi side eyed him over and over, before finally speaking up. “so… where’s um… your shirt?” he nearly giggled, very drunk.
“uh, i spilt alcohol on it.” he lied, gripping the steering wheel tighter as the moments he had you completely undone under him pulsed through his mind.
“mhm…” yoongi hummed out suspiciously, leaning back into the seat.
•••
finally, home. you were exhausted, not just from the party, the alcohol— but, getting absolutely fucked by namjoon.
your hands were on the stair railing, before someone called out your name. you turned to see yoongi. “what?”
“don’t tell me you did what i think you did.” he came closer, now walking up the steps with you. “well…” — “Y/N!” he hit your arm. you quickly shushed him, hitting back. “yoongi stop it.”
“y/n that’s bad… oh god…” he clenched his shirt, face distorted. “you’re overreacting… he really does like me, you can’t change fate.” you whispered, now reaching your bedroom door.
synopsis : A dark, heated encounter where jk’s intensity and control blur the line between obsession and desire.
pairings : boyfriend!jungkook - fem!reader
warnings : smut!!
smut warnings : mirror kink, praising, pet names (pretty girl)
an : ugh i LOVE this. this was sorta requested 🫣 i could totally see him having a mirror kink.. just me?? anywho, enjoy my babes! 💌
Wasted Times
The Weeknd
.ılılılllıılılıllllıılılllıllı.
0:24 ─●──────── -2:56
↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺
─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────
The fluorescent lights above your desk buzzed faintly, the sound worming into your already pounding head. You rubbed your temples, forcing your tired eyes to focus on the spreadsheet glowing on your monitor. Your shift was nearly over, but the last hour had crawled at a snail’s pace, every tick of the clock dragging out like it was mocking you.
When your boss finally dismissed everyone, you gathered your things with shaky hands. Your shoulders ached, your lower back was stiff, and all you could think about was getting home—your bed, your shower, silence.
The city air was humid as you walked to your car, every step heavy, dragging. You sighed as you unlocked the door, climbing inside and resting your forehead against the steering wheel for a moment. Just a few more minutes, and you’d be home.
You didn’t expect Jungkook to already be there when you walked in.
He was leaned against the counter, hair damp from a shower, wearing nothing but a loose black shirt and sweats that hung low on his hips. His dark eyes locked on you instantly, sharp and unreadable.
“You’re late,” he muttered, pushing off the counter.
“I had to stay over,” you sighed, kicking your shoes off. “I’m dead, Kook. I just need to—”
You tried to move past him, but his hand shot out, fingers circling your wrist tight. He tugged you back, chest colliding with his. The air left your lungs at the intensity in his stare.
“Dead tired, huh?” he murmured, voice low, dangerously calm. His thumb traced over your pulse, feeling how fast it jumped under his touch. “Funny… you don’t look dead. You look like you need me.”
“Jungkook, I really—”
“You think you get to come home, ignore me, and go to sleep without giving me what’s mine?” His voice cut sharp, his lips brushing your ear as he leaned in. “Not happening, baby. Not tonight.”
Your protest melted into a shaky breath when his other hand slid around your waist, gripping firmly. The exhaustion that weighed down your body blurred into something else—something hotter, tighter.
“Look at you,” he growled, backing you against the wall, his frame towering, caging you in. “Still trying to fight me when I can feel how much you want this.” His hand slid lower, gripping your thigh, dragging it up around his hip until you gasped. “You don’t get to hide from me.”
Your knees weakened, the long day at work colliding with the fire his touch lit inside you. Every nerve in your body was screaming awake, shivering under his dominance.
“Shower later. Sleep later. Right now, you’re mine.”
Before you could reply, he was dragging you toward the bedroom, his grip unrelenting. You stumbled after him, pulse racing, until he stopped you in front of the tall mirror that stood against the wall.
His smirk was dark, knowing, dangerous.
“You’ve been running on empty all day,” he whispered, pressing his chest against your back, his hand curling possessively around your throat as he forced you to look at your reflection. “So tonight, I’m going to fill you up. And you’re going to watch every second of it.”
——
The room was dim, lit only by the amber glow of the city outside his apartment window. You leaned back against Jungkook's chest, your body already trembling from the way his hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open in front of the tall floor-length mirror he'd dragged into his bedroom weeks ago.
“You see that?” his voice was low, rough, brushing hot against your ear. He tilted your chin up with one hand, forcing you to look at the reflection—the both of you, tangled, flushed, sinful. “That’s mine. Every. Single. Inch.”
Your breath hitched when his palm slid down, trailing slow and deliberate between your thighs. His tattooed arm wrapped tight around your waist, caging you in as he pressed his lips to your shoulder, biting down just enough to make you squirm.
“Don’t look away,” he ordered, catching your attempt to glance down. His dark eyes in the mirror were wild, filled with hunger and something more dangerous—possession. “You keep your eyes right there. I want you to watch what I do to you.”
His fingers slid inside you, curling just right, and your knees threatened to buckle. But he held you firm, his grip unrelenting. His other hand pressed at your throat lightly, not choking—just reminding you that he was in control.
“God, you look so fucking pretty like this,” he groaned, grinding himself against you from behind, his breath shaky with restraint. “Falling apart in my hands while you watch yourself get ruined.”
Your reflection was a mess—lips parted, pupils blown wide, body trembling as his fingers worked you open. His gaze never left yours in the mirror, his jaw clenched, tattoos flexing with every movement.
Jungkook’s hands returned to your hips, holding you steady as he positioned himself behind you. You could feel the head of his cock pressing against you, teasing your entrance.
“Look at yourself,” he ordered, his voice thick with desire. “I want you to watch.”
You obeyed, your eyes flicking up to the mirror. The sight of him behind you, his muscular frame towering over your smaller body, sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core. His cock was thick and hard, glistening with precum as he rubbed it against you, teasing you relentlessly. You whimpered, your hips instinctively pushing back against him, desperate for more.
Jungkook chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that made your knees weak. “So eager,” he teased, his hand moving to your ass, giving it a sharp smack that made you gasp. “But I’ll make sure you get what you need.”
Without warning, he thrust into you, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth stroke. You cried out, the sensation overwhelming as he filled you completely. He groaned, his head tipping back as he savored the feeling of your tightness around him. “Fuck,” he breathed, his hands tightening on your hips. “You’re so fucking tight, baby.”
He pulled out slowly, almost all the way, before slamming back into you with a force that made the mirror shake. You gasped, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. His hips snapped against yours again and again, the sound of skin against skin filling the room.
“Look at yourself,” he growled, his voice strained with effort. “Look how well you take my cock.”
Your eyes flicked back to the mirror, catching the way your body moved with his every thrust. Your breasts bounced with each movement, your face flushed and mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure. His eyes were locked on yours through the mirror, his gaze intense and unyielding.
“You’re so perfect,” he whispered, his hands sliding up your back to grip your shoulders. “Taking me so well... Fuck, you feel amazing.”
His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his own release. You could feel your own orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter in your stomach until it finally snapped. You cried out as waves of pleasure crashed over you, your body trembling as he continued to pound into you.
Jungkook groaned, his hips stuttering as he reached his own climax. He buried himself deep inside you, his grip on your hips almost bruising as he came. “Fuck,” he panted, his voice hoarse. “You’re so fucking perfect.”
He stayed inside you for a moment, both of you catching your breath as the room fell silent except for the sound of your ragged breathing. Slowly, he pulled out, his hands trailing over your body as he straightened up.
“Turn around,” he commanded softly.
You obeyed shakily turning to face him your legs still trembling from the intensity of what just happened Jungkook cupped your face in his hand tilting your chin up so you looked into his eyes “You did so good for me” he said his voice now soft but still carrying that same commanding edge “My pretty girl”
His other hand slid down wrapping around your waist as he pulled you flush against him. His cock already hardening again as it pressed into your stomach "Again" he demanded not asking but telling and you knew arguing wasn't an option not that you wanted to because everything about this moment was exactly where you wanted to be.
summary: you slightly tease the coworker you used to fuck to see what he’d do… little did you know, he’d give in.
cw: sex, slight rough play..
pairings: coworker!bangchan x fem reader
setting: restaurant
wc: 1.3k words
a/n: lazy late night writing but i wanted to publish something after my seonghwa fic vanished 💔
the bustling restaurant moved around you, your mind hazy. you’re on your last hour of your shift— you hated closing. you dreaded every shift you had to stay til 12am. your feet and back ached.
after rushing out most people, you had one table left.
you swiftly moved to the bar, putting your notepad away. you looked up to your manager who was working behind the bar, cleaning a few glasses. “table eight needs two frozen mango margaritas.” you leaned over the bar. his eyes drifted up from the glass. his messy, dampened hair glistening in the dim lights.
“tell them we are closing, hard liquor only. i’m not mixing up some weak shit.” he scuffed. you smirked before standing up straight. “chan you know i can’t just do that.” you whispered, he knew you were always afraid to say stuff to customers. “come on, be a big girl for me tonight.” his lips curling into a devilish smile.
“fine.” you rolled your eyes playfully, before walking over to the table. you looked down at the younger gentlemen sitting there. “i’m sorry guys but we are closing, hard liquor only.” you repeated what you were told. the brown haired man looked up at you, leaning back in the booth. “oh come on, be a peach and make our drink.” he looked at you up and down. “i’m sorry but i really can’t, managers rules.” you said louder, yet your voice shaking slightly.
the other man smirked at his friend before turning to you, his hand moving from the table to your thigh, trailing his fingers lightly. “we’ll tip you big.” he said lowly, as he slid his hand higher up.
you moved back uncomfortably, bumping into something.
“do we have a problem?” chan spoke sternly, his chest resting on your back, before moving you to the side. the brown haired man chuckled before speaking, “we just want our drink man.”
“you’ve had enough, plus you don’t touch my servers.” he practically growled. the man stood up. “or what?” he laughed in chan’s face, sizing him up.
chan clenched his jaw, fixing up his sleeves. “get out my restaurant.” he moved closer to the man.
“who does he think he is?” he laughed, pointing at chan as he looked at his friend. “i won’t tell you again.” chan warned one last time, his fist tightening.
the man quickly put his hands on chan’s chest, pushing him harshly.
chan let out a harsh breath before looking back at the man, his fist connecting with his jaw. “i said get the fuck out.”
the man grabbed his face before looking at his friend, both of them now rushing out the restaurant. the bell ringing as the door flew shut.
chan sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair— before turning to you. “are you okay?” he worryingly asked, looking at you up and down.
“y-yeah i’m fine.”
“i was just listening in to make sure everything was fine then… then i saw him touch you.” he scuffed, shaking his head.
“it’s fine, it was nothing.” you brushed it off. “no- it’s not nothing. he was a weirdo, you have to start standing up for yourself y/n.” he loosened his tie, walking back to the bar.
you trailed behind him.
“or i could always have you as my prince charming.” you teased, back leaned against the bar. he looked over at you, smirking. “don’t tease me y/n.” he slung the white cloth over his shoulder.
his dampened hair, his tight shirt now loosened at the neck, his smudged makeup… it was making it so hard NOT to tease a little.
“you enjoy it.” you lowly said, walking up to him slowly.
“y/n, stop.” he put his hands up to your chest, “we can’t do this again, not here.”
“just say you miss it, that’s the reason you got mad at that guy… you were jealous.” you tilted your head, looking up into his eyes— sliding his hand off your chest and pulling him closer. your chests touching now.
“i don’t get jealous.” he spoke softly, “yeah right.” you chuckled— moving his hand to your waist. he instantly wrapped it around you gently.
“what if i didn’t stop him?” you whispered again, faces inches apart. his mouth parted slightly, before letting out a soft hum. “what if i just let him keep touching my thigh?” your hand moved to his tight white buttoned shirt, trailing over his clothed abs.
“don’t.” he grabbed your wrist tightly, stopping you. “why? am i getting to you?” you cockily said. “we said we wouldn’t do it again, why are you doing this to me?” he said, his voice slightly sounding needy.
you stared into his eyes, lowering your eyelids. you took his hand and slowly moved it to your throat. your eyes locked onto his pulsating veins running down his hands.
“come on…” he breathed out.
he didn’t move his hand, he allowed you to guide it right where you wanted. you pulled his head down to the side, whispering in his ear— “i know you miss me.”
your words made his fingers twitch, tightening around your throat.
he roughly pushed you back against the bar counter, exhaling lightly. “don’t do this.” he whimpered out into your ear, his hand still tightly against your throat. you let out a smirk. “i won’t be able to stop… if we do.”
your eyes locked.
“touch me.” your pupils burned into his.
there wasn’t a second he hesitated, he picked you up, carrying you like a baby. his hands roaming your hair— lips smashing onto yours.
his rough hands gripping your ass tightly as he smashed his back into the managers office door. he laid you down onto his table, face down— bending your back as far as it could. his hands slip down to your work skirt, flipping up the loose fabric. you allowed him as you exhaled roughly— face down into the desk.
his hands moved to his belt, rushing to take his pants off like his life depended on it. pushing them down quickly. he took his cock into his hands, putting it between your slit— rubbing against your wetness. you let out a frustrated moan, wanted to just be fucked senselessly.
he slid his cock up and down, before perfectly slamming his cock fully into your hole— filling you up. he pounded faster and faster, gripping onto your hips tightly. practically leaving a bruise.
he moaned and groaned as he thrusted in and out of you harshly, smashing into your cervix. you gripped onto the table, screaming out his name. “that’s right. call out my name babygirl.” he growled out, now tightening his grip onto your hips, trusting into you deeper, and rougher.
he trailed his hand to your ass, smacking it over and over as he filled you deeper, making you scream out in pain. “c-chan!” you whimpered out, reaching your climax as his tip hit your g-spot, rushing your orgasm faster than ever.
“cum for me, cum for daddy darling.” he groaned, gripping onto your hair as he leaned against you, fucking you harder than ever before.
the overstimulation of the rough play, and words, threw you over the edge, cumming immediately— making a mess all over his cock.
without even cumming, he pulled out— moving his mouth to your vagina, cleaning up every lick of your cum. making sure to taste every drop of you, not forgetting one part…
his tongue made you shake even more after your orgasm, making you nearly tremble to the floor. he held your thighs as you shook underneath him, fixing your posture for you.
“you did so good for me, just like always.” he kissed your neck, smelling your scent on his breathe. “you’re just so perfect.” he whimpered, gripping onto your shaking thighs.
he turned you around, facing your flustered and just fucked face.
“i love how i can make you look like this.” he whispered, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before kissing onto your neck.
“don’t forget to delete the camera footage.” you whispered back, out of breathe. voice slightly trembling from his neck kisses.
“i won’t.” he giggled, “i didn’t forget the first five times.” he smirked into your neck.
synopsis : A soft night of laughter, starlight, and San by your side 😽
pairings : boyfriend!san - fem!reader
warnings : none
an : first time writing for ateez kinda nervous.. i feel like this is really short. don’t get me wrong i love writing fluff but i always feel like it turns out short 😿 but i hope this is enough for yall!! enjoy my babes!! 💌
Holding you, Holding me
Cigarettes After Sex
.ılılılllıılılıllllıılılllıllı.
0:24 ─●──────── -3:30
↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺
─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────
It was one of those evenings when the air felt softer than usual, carrying hints of spring and the faint sweetness of cherry blossoms. You had been exhausted all week—papers piling up, emails you hadn’t answered, and the constant buzz of life pulling you in every direction. San had been the same, tied up with rehearsals and practice sessions that ran late into the night.
So when he texted you out of the blue, “Let’s escape. Just us. Meet me in twenty?”—you couldn’t resist.
You found him waiting at the park, his backpack slung over one shoulder and a grin that stretched ear to ear. He looked casual—hoodie, sneakers, hair tucked under a cap—but the sparkle in his eyes made him stand out more than anything.
“Perfect timing,” he said, pulling the strap of his bag higher. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” you asked, falling into step beside him.
“You’ll see,” San teased, his voice carrying that mischievous lilt you knew too well.
He led you toward the quieter side of the park, where a grassy hill overlooked the city skyline. He set down his bag and, with an exaggerated ta-da, spread out a soft blanket. Snacks, a small Bluetooth speaker, and two water bottles tumbled out after it.
“A whole setup?” you laughed, impressed.
“Only the best for us,” San said proudly, patting the blanket like it was a throne. He plopped down, patting the spot next to him. “Come sit. You’ve been too stressed this week. Tonight is for relaxing.”
The way he said it, so matter-of-fact and with such care, made your chest tighten in the best way. You sat down, leaning just close enough that your shoulders brushed.
The two of you watched as the sky darkened, stars blinking into existence one by one. San lay back with his arms behind his head, the picture of contentment. “You know,” he said casually, “these stars aren’t even half as pretty as you.”
You turned your head to look at him, already laughing. “That’s so cheesy, San.”
“It’s true!” he insisted, rolling onto his side to face you. His voice softened. “Whenever things get heavy… I just think of you. And it feels lighter.”
Your heart swelled at his honesty. He could be dramatic sometimes, overly playful, always ready with a joke—but when he opened up like this, it was so raw and real that it left you speechless.
“San,” you said gently, brushing a strand of hair off his forehead. “You deserve to feel light all the time. Not just because of me.”
He caught your hand before you could pull it away, pressing a kiss against your knuckles. The warmth lingered, as if he was trying to memorize the moment. “Then you’ll just have to stay by my side forever,” he murmured, lips still brushing your skin.
“Forever?” you teased, your smile shaky from how fast your heart was beating.
His grin grew, boyish and hopeful. “Not long enough if it’s with you.”
You shook your head, laughing, but before you could say anything else, he suddenly sprang up. “Dance with me.”
“In the middle of a park?” you asked, eyebrows raised.
“Yes,” he said simply, holding out his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Right now.”
You hesitated for all of two seconds before slipping your hand into his. He pulled you up, your laugh catching in your throat as he spun you clumsily before settling his hands gently on your waist.
The soft hum of cicadas filled the night air. San connected his phone to the speaker, and a slow, dreamy song began to play. You swayed together on the grass, his warmth seeping into you, his heartbeat steady under your cheek when you rested your head on his chest.
For a long moment, the world felt far away.
“I love you,” San whispered into your hair, so softly you almost thought you imagined it.
But when you looked up, his cheeks were tinged pink, his smile small and shy.
Your breath caught, and you squeezed his hand tighter. “I love you too, San.”
His eyes widened, then softened, as if he’d been holding onto those words for longer than you realized. He leaned down and pressed the gentlest kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger there.
The night rolled on like a dream. You shared snacks on the blanket, laughing when he insisted on feeding you chips only to miss your mouth on purpose. He pointed out constellations with made-up names—“That one looks like a puppy… oh, and that one looks like you when you’re annoyed at me”—and you pretended to scold him even though you couldn’t stop smiling.
At one point, San pulled out his phone again and said, “Okay, okay, serious question: should we take a selfie?”
You leaned in, both of you illuminated by the dim glow of the city in the distance. When he looked at the photo afterward, his smile turned soft. “You’re glowing.”
“You’re just biased,” you said, trying to hide your own blush.
“Of course I am,” he admitted easily. “I’m yours.”
You blinked, caught off guard by the way he said it so naturally, so full of certainty. And when he noticed, he only pulled you into his arms again, hugging you tightly like he never wanted to let go.
The night air grew cooler, but with San’s arms wrapped around you, you felt warmer than ever.
Lying on the blanket with your head on his shoulder, you traced little shapes on his hoodie with your finger. “I could stay like this forever,” you whispered.
His lips curved into a smile against your hair. “Good. Because that’s exactly my plan.”
Summary: One night at your childhood friend’s dorm turned from drunk fun, to having the best sex of your life.
Pairings: idol!friend!mingi x fem!reader
Warnings: smut, 18+, unprotected sex, drunk sex
A/n: first time posting on here so enjoy! You can request ⋆ 𐙚 ̊.
You stumbled off the couch, grasping your cup. Hongjoong’s giggle echoing off the walls. You couldn’t help but reciprocate with your own laugh.
Suddenly, a hand was placed on your lower back. You blinked in confusion, turning to the side. Song Mingi. “I think you’ve had enough.” He spat out, grabbing the glass from your hand. Looking up at him dumbfounded, Jongho spoke up. “Oh come on we rarely do this anymore!”
“She has a meeting in the morning, at-least one of us needs to take care of her.” His tone coming out more aggressive, possessive. Mingi’s hand fell off your back as he moved to the kitchen, pouring out the glass. “Come on.” He sternly said, walking to his room. You rushed behind him, giving one last look to Hongjoong who had a slight pout on his face.
As you both entered his room he shut the door behind him, he swiftly moved around the room— shuffling through his clothes. “Here, wear this for tonight.” He mumbled handing you a hoodie and sweatpants. “Why?” You groaned out, just wishing to have another drink. “Well, you aren’t gonna walk home, it’s safer for you to just sleep here.” His eyes pierced into yours, his hands still on the clothes. “Okay. Fine.” You obliged, removing the clothes from his hands. “Turn around.”
His body slowly turned to face the door, weight shifting to one foot as his one hand reached through his hair. You stared for a second before lifting your tight top over your head, and unclipping your bra— feeling way more comfortable now. As you finished changing, you threw your clothes to the side of the room. “Done.”
He turned to face you, his eyes low and sparkly. “Did you really have to drink so much?” He crossed his arms, moving closer. “Did you really have to drink so little?” You looked up into his beautiful face— a sudden weird feeling in your stomach, this unknown sensation just from looking at your childhood friend. “You’re so childish.” He scuffed, a smirk lifting his lips.
Yet your eyes didn’t move, your face didn’t move, you stayed looking right at him. Like a hunter watching his prey, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. The way his compression shirt tightly wrapped around his biceps…his abs piercing through the shirt.
“What?” He glared down at you, eyes furrowed. “Nothing.” You said, your voice slightly trembling. Mingi’s smirk grew, moving a little closer. His eyes roaming your face, looking for something more. He came close, real close. Moving to the side of your head, he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear— whispering low, “Liar.”
Your jaw clenched slightly, goosebumps raising. This isn’t right. This isn’t okay. Why do you feel this way? He was acting just as he normally does but right now, you felt something more. Your hand subconsciously moved to his torso, right on his abs. His body tensed up, freezing for a moment.
He ever so slowly moved back to face you again, making eye contact immediately. Your mouth slightly agape— he spoke lowly, “What are you feeling right now?” God his voice. Why did it have to sound so good. Just the sound of it was making your legs tremble, his hand quickly moved to your waist— holding you.
“Answer me.” He said harsher, like he wanted an answer, like he was waiting for this moment.
“Mingi.” Your voice soft and low, head tilting back to look up at him. You wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words— you just froze up. “Just say the word, say it. Say it Y/n and I’ll give it to you.”
Your stomach flipped.
“Yes.” You mumbled out, hand now clenching his shirt. And with that he swiftly lifted you off your feet, carrying you to his bed. He placed you down softly, hovering over your body. His chain dangling over your face. He moved closer, your lips just barely touching— like he wanted to tease you. Everything changed in that moment, you put your hand behind his head, pulling him down. Your lips smash onto his passionately. His hand quickly finding your hip, trailing up your body lightly.
You moved your lips faster, harsher, wanting more. Your hand now in his hair, tugging slightly. “I need you.” You muffled in-between the kisses. He let out a low groan, his eyes shutting tighter. “Say that again.” He breathed out, breaking the kiss. Your face flushed, body tangled with his… “I need you Mingi.”
And with that his hand roamed your body, tugging at the clothes he just gave you, ripping them off you intensely. He removed his shirt soon after, revealing his toned body. He leaned back over you, eyes glaring all over your now naked body. “You’re so beautiful.” He groaned out, gripping onto your skin. You let out a little whimper, only turning Mingi on more.
He left a trail of kisses down your body, from your neck to your vagina. He looked up at you from down there, slowly inserting two fingers. Your eyes close slightly as he curled his fingers, letting out a soft moan. Mingi smirked onto your vagina, his tongue circling your clit. His free hand trailed up your stomach, wanting to touch every inch of you. His mouth and fingers moved faster, making your back arch slightly. “Fuck Mingi.” Moaning out a little too loud— he slowly stopped, moving back up to your face. “Let me fuck you, let me show you how good I can make you feel.” His voice was raspy and hungry. You nodded slightly, “Please.”
He pushed down his pants, springing his cock out. His eyes melted into yours as he lined his cock up with your entrance, sliding in slowly. Both of your mouths slightly open— “Oh my god..” You whispered out as he stretched you open, in such a slow teasing way. He put his lips onto yours as he fully slid inside you, your back arching further— making your stomach crash into his. He kissed you rougher, as he took your hand into his, holding tightly. His thrusts sped up, making you a moaning mess.
The sweat beads forming on his forehead, messing up his hair. You wrapped your arms around his bare back— scratching harshly as he fucked you. He let out groans after every pound. You closed your eyes as it was becoming too much, your nails so deep into his skin. He forcefully turned your head to him, “Open your eyes.” He growled, his fingers tightly on your jaw. “Look into my eyes as I make you unravel.” His voice so sexy and dangerous. You obeyed.
He lifted your leg over his shoulder, having more access to get deeper— pounding you harder than before. The sound of both of your bodies bouncing off the walls, filling up the room. The groans, and moans only adding to the sweet bliss.
As his cock hit just the right spot over, and over, you felt your orgasm coming. You never felt like this before, it’s like he knew your body from the inside out. “Mingi, I’m c-close.” Your voice bounced as he continued to pound you, in the same exact spot that made you get here. “Let go for me baby.” He breathed out, eyes still locked on your face.
Within just a few moments you released, legs shaking over his shoulder. He continued pounding you ruthlessly, riding out your high. The way his face twitched made you know he was close now too, you slung your arm back over his shoulder, bringing him closer. “Cum in me.” You moaned into his ear, making his eyes widen. “W-What.” He stammered, slowing his strokes slightly. “Just do it.”
He considered it, eyes looking into yours to make sure you weren’t joking. As he saw your confirming look he let go. Giving into that feeling he’s wanted for so long. Little did you know how much you’ve been on his mind, wishing you’d be under him just like this. Naked, and a mess— because of him.
You both cleaned up in his bathroom together, quickly going back to your silly normal behavior. You slung back on his hoodie from before, he stared up at you as he was pulling the covers down. “It looks perfect on you.” He smiled, pulling you down onto the bed.
“You look perfect on me.” You mumbled, lying at his side. He hooked his arm over you, pulling you close. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
synopsis : On tour with Ni-ki, you push just a little too far—and find out exactly what happens when you do.
pairings : idol!boyfriend!niki - fem!reader
warnings : smut, 18+ concept, reader being a brat?!
smut warnings : teasing, dom!niki, some heavy smut tbh
an : so sorry for not being active for a bit! but i’m working on some recent requests i got but just putting this out there to feed you heathens. also how do we feel about my new layout??? lmk! enjoy my babes! 💌
Been like this
Doja Cat
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The hotel bed was still warm when Ni-ki slipped out before dawn, leaving behind only the scent of his cologne and the ghost of his kiss pressed to your temple. He had rehearsal early—another day, another city—but you didn’t mind. You liked touring with him. You liked being close. You liked the way his eyes softened whenever he caught you watching from the sidelines, even if it only lasted a second before he snapped back into performance mode.
And more than anything, you liked being the only one who got that version of him. The real one. The one who pulled you into bed after midnight with tired arms and an aching body, whispering soft things against your skin.
But today?
Today, you were feeling just a little wicked.
Maybe it was the way his voice had rasped against your throat last night when he muttered, “No more, baby, I need sleep…” — even though you could feel him getting hard again.
Maybe it was the way he always looked so composed in front of the staff and fans, cool and collected like nothing could rattle him.
You wanted to rattle him.
So when you showed up at rehearsal, dressed in his hoodie—long enough to cover your thighs but short enough to flash bare skin with every shift of your hips—you made sure to time it just right. You leaned against the sound equipment, sipping from your water bottle slowly, letting the condensation trail down your chest just far enough.
And you caught him watching.
Not once. Not twice. Every single time.
His jaw ticked. His hands clenched during choreography resets. At one point, he even pulled his in-ears out and glared at you from across the floor like he couldn’t believe you were still doing it.
You smiled sweetly, then licked a drop of water off your finger.
He looked like he was about to murder you—and not in the cute, fake-scolding boyfriend way. In the you-wanted-my-attention-and-now-you’re-going-to-regret-it kind of way.
Still, you kept going.
You whispered something to Sunoo during a break and laughed a little too loudly, just to see Ni-ki’s eyes narrow from across the room. You leaned a little too far over the table while grabbing a granola bar, letting the hem of your hoodie ride up and show the curve of your ass.
And when he walked past you to grab a towel, you moaned softly under your breath—not loud enough for anyone else to hear, but loud enough for him.
That was the last straw.
His hand brushed your lower back as he passed. Innocent, at first. But then it lingered. Gripped.
“You think you’re funny?” he murmured, low in your ear.
You turned your head, biting your lip. “I think I’m cute.”
He didn’t respond. Just let go and kept walking. But the look he gave you over his shoulder?
You felt that in your bones.
And from that point on, you could feel the shift in the air. He didn’t speak to you for the rest of rehearsal. Barely looked at you during the pre-show check-in. But you could feel him watching. Studying. Plotting.
You knew you were in trouble.
And you loved it.
By the time the actual concert rolled around, Ni-ki was holding himself together with pure willpower and muscle memory. You were lucky you weren’t allowed backstage mid-show, because he looked like he’d devour you on the spot.
After the encore, you were waiting in the dressing room, lounging across the couch with your legs draped lazily over the side, phone in hand, hoodie zipped down enough to hint at the lace bralette underneath.
“Had a good show, baby?” you asked, voice sugary-sweet as he stepped inside.
Ni-ki slammed the door shut.
You blinked. “What—”
“You think that was funny?” His voice was low. Dangerous.
You gave him a slow, deliberate smile. “What was funny?”
He was on you in three strides, yanking you up from the couch by your wrist and pushing you against the vanity table, the mirror rattling from the force. His eyes were dark, hungry, and his grip on your waist was firm enough to bruise.
“You teased me all fucking day.”
“I was bored,” you whispered, grinning. “Wanted your attention.”
“You’ve got it now.
"You’ve been teasing me all day," he said, his voice low and dripping with menace. "Flirting, touching, whispering—thinking you could get away with it." He took a step forward, and you instinctively backed up until your legs hit the edge of the bed. "You’ve been a fucking brat, and now it’s time to pay."
Before you could respond, Niki’s hands were on you, gripping your waist and pulling you against him roughly. His lips crashed onto yours, hard and demanding, his tongue slipping into your mouth with no preamble. You gasped into the kiss, your hands instinctively tangling in his hair as he deepened it, his teeth grazing your bottom lip in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes darkened with lust. "You think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you?" he growled, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt. In one swift motion, he yanked it over your head, leaving you exposed to him. "You thought you could rile me up and walk away untouched?" He chuckled darkly, his fingers tracing the edge of your bra before unclasping it and letting it fall to the floor. "You’re fucking wrong."
His hands found your breasts, kneading them roughly as his mouth latched onto your neck, sucking and biting in a way that left you breathless. You moaned, arching into him as he worked his way down, his tongue flicking over your nipple before he took it into his mouth, sucking hard. "Niki, please," you whimpered, your hands gripping his shoulders for support.
"Please what?" he murmured against your skin, his hands sliding down to unbutton your jeans. "You want me to stop? Or do you want me to fuck you until you forget how to tease me?" He shoved your pants down your legs, leaving you in nothing but your panties, which he quickly ripped off with a growl. You gasped at the sudden exposure, your legs trembling as he stepped back to admire you.
"Look at you," he said, his voice thick with desire. "So fucking wet for me already. You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?" He smirked as he unbuttoned his own pants, letting them drop to the floor before kicking them aside. His cock sprang free, hard and throbbing, and you bit your lip at the sight of it. "Answer me," he demanded, his hand wrapping around the base of his length as he stroked himself slowly.
"Yes," you breathed, your eyes glued to the way his hand moved over his cock. "I’ve been thinking about you all day. About how you’d feel inside me."
"Good," he said, stepping forward and pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance. "Because I’m going to make you fucking regret teasing me all day." With that, he thrust into you in one swift motion, burying himself to the hilt. You cried out, your nails digging into his back as he filled you completely.
He didn’t give you a moment to adjust. Instead, he pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in, setting a brutal pace that had you seeing stars. "Fuck, Niki!" you screamed, your legs wrapping around his waist as he fucked you with reckless abandon. "You feel so fucking good!"
"You like that?" he growled, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. "You like being fucked like the brat you are?" He punctuated each word with a thrust, each one harder than the last. "You’re going to fucking cum for me, but not yet. Not until I say so."
He slowed his pace, pulling out until just the tip of his cock remained inside you before thrusting back in slowly, teasing you mercilessly. "Niki, please," you begged, your hips trying to buck against his to regain some control. "I need you to fuck me harder. I need to cum."
"Not yet," he said, his voice firm as he continued to fuck you at a maddeningly slow pace. "You’re going to wait until I’m fucking ready to let you cum. Until then, you’re going to take whatever I give you."
He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he continued to fuck you slowly, each thrust drawing a moan from your lips. "You’re mine," he whispered against your mouth. "And I’m going to make sure you never forget it."
Niki’s hands tightened on your hips, his grip almost bruising as he flipped you over onto your stomach with a single, fluid motion. You gasped, the sudden shift leaving you breathless as he pulled you up onto your knees, your ass pressing back against him. His cock was already hard, throbbing against your skin as he leaned over you, his lips brushing against your ear.
“I’m going to fuck you from behind, just like you fucking deserve,” he hissed, his voice low and dripping with dominance. You shivered, the heat of his body enveloping you as he lined himself up, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance.
You tried to arch back, to push yourself onto him, but his hands gripped your hips tighter, holding you in place. “Don’t you fucking move,” he growled, his voice sharp enough to make you freeze. “You’re going to take it just like this, slow and deep, until I’m ready to give you what you want.”
You whimpered, the ache between your thighs growing unbearable as he pressed into you, inch by agonizing inch. He was so fucking big, stretching you in ways that made your mind go blank, your body trembling under his control. “Fuck, Niki,” you moaned, your voice breaking as he finally buried himself inside you, his pelvis flush against your ass.
He didn’t move. Not yet. Instead, he leaned down, his chest pressing against your back as his lips brushed against your neck. “You feel so fucking good,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “But you’re not going to cum yet. Not until I say so.”
You whined, your nails digging into the sheets as he began to move, his hips pulling back before thrusting into you with a slow, deliberate pace. Each stroke was maddening, the friction driving you closer to the edge but never letting you fall. “Niki, please,” you begged, your hips twitching as you tried to match his rhythm.
“I said don’t fucking move,” he snapped, his hand coming down hard on your ass, the sharp sting making you cry out. He chuckled darkly, his hips never stopping their relentless pace. “You’re such a fucking brat, teasing me all day like that. Now you’re going to take everything I give you, and you’re going to fucking thank me for it.”
His words sent a jolt of heat straight to your core, your body betraying you as it clenched around him. He groaned, his fingers digging into your hips as he picked up the pace, his cock pounding into you with a punishing rhythm. “You like that, don’t you?” he taunted, his voice thick with arousal. “You like being fucked like this, bending over for me like the little slut you are.”
You couldn’t answer, your mind too far gone as he fucked you harder, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. But just as you were about to tip over, he slowed down again, pulling out until only the tip remained inside you. “Not yet,” he growled, his voice firm as he held you still. “You’re not going to cum until I’m fucking ready.”
You cried out, your body trembling with need as he teased you mercilessly, his cock barely moving inside you. “Please, Niki,” you begged, your voice breaking as you reached back to grab his thigh. “I need to cum. Please, let me cum.”
He laughed, a deep, dark sound that sent shivers down your spine. “You’re so fucking desperate,” he said, his voice filled with cruel amusement. “But I’m not done with you yet.”
He pulled out completely, flipping you onto your back with ease before spreading your legs wide. His eyes were dark with hunger as he stared down at you, his cock glistening with your arousal. “I’m going to make you scream my name,” he promised, his voice low and dangerous as he thrust back into you, hard and fast.
You gasped, your back arching off the bed as he fucked you with a brutal intensity, each stroke hitting that perfect spot deep inside you. “Oh god, Niki,” you moaned, your hands scrambling for something to hold onto as he drove you closer and closer to the edge.
“That’s it,”” he growled, his hands gripping your thighs as he leaned over you, his face inches from yours. “Beg me. Beg me to let you cum.”
“Please, Niki,” you cried, your voice trembling as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “Please, let me cum. I need it so bad.”
He smirked, his hips never slowing as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. “Fine,” he murmured against your mouth. “Cum for me, baby. Scream my fucking name.”
His words were all it took to push you over the edge, your body exploding with pleasure as you came undone beneath him. Your nails dug into his back as you screamed his name, the waves of ecstasy crashing over you as he continued to fuck you through it, his cock milking every last drop of pleasure from your body.
But even as your orgasm began to fade, he didn’t stop. He fucked you harder, his own release building as he chased his own pleasure. “That’s it, take it,” he growled, his voice thick with need. “Take every fucking inch of me.”
You could only moan, your body still trembling as he slammed into you one last time, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he came. He groaned your name, his body shuddering as he spilled himself inside you, his hips grinding against yours as he rode out his release.
When he finally pulled out, collapsing beside you on the bed, you were both breathless and spent. He turned to you, his dark eyes filled with a satisfied smirk. “Next time you tease me,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, “I’m going to make you beg even harder.”
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