jungkook seeks to be with a partner who craves it twice a day like he does: everything else wouldn't make sense. it's as natural and easy to him as breathing, he has no hang-ups (erectile dysfunction? 'post nut clarity'? four minute sex? what is that?), because this man is some type of ramen-powered superhuman, and he will never get enough. in any position of your choosing. in fact, he got himself a reversible vasectomy a couple years ago, he knows that makes it easier for him and his bed partner. he doesn't entertain a hesitant person who struggles to be sensual, mutual comfort is priority. if his partner is not self-assured, he cannot feel confident, either.
jin should never be underestimated here. even though he doesn't take an athletic approach, he just... wants to be buried inside someone and not do or think about anything else. living in the moment. moaning when you bounce on him. jin truly lives a dolce vita. "just relax. we can wind down together, okay?" even if - and this will surprise you - sex actually has a serious atmosphere with him often, it's not just jokes and fooling around. still, he doesn't want to get bogged down, no drama, no excess talking. it's lights out, doggy style, vibrator for your clit, lube and protection and just two people on this bed. jin will be as casual or committed as you like it, and the chemistry pops.
hoseok, thinking about sex all the time when he cooks or dances, would occupy the second place if it wasn't for him being cleanly. there's a household to look after, he is busy, he trains, he mentors, he carefully curates outfits, socializes... not as much time left. but other than that, he can pick up the pace, and he wants to lose himself in it with a partner. hobi is more fickle and not as toughed-up than his stage image suggests, but he can give it to you the way you request it from him. he is too dutiful for his own good, this guy just has an impeccable ethic. you'll see him as emotional rather than dark in moments when he can't grind and think of all the important things at once anymore. then, he will resemble jimin, falling dead asleep, rest takes priority.
taehyung needs a build-up. a story to it, an arc. five one-night-stands in a row, oof. would corrode his self-image. like he wouldn't have any esteem left. sure: he can be nasty. but there has to be a web of context, interaction, life points... without the dining table and the walk in the park it's not cohesive and enjoyable to him. like jimin, he needs the talking aspect. he won't strip for a disagreeable person. taehyung's fine sense is very strict here, it kills his drive fast if even a little thing is off and two people don't gel. if there's seamless, "we complete the other's sentences" compatibility, he will indulge. needs four hours to prepare himself, however. no sex without a really good perfume on.
jimin is often 'stuck on' the getting cozy aspect. snuggles are life, i feel you, jimin. "it sucks without cuddling!" is his signature complaint when someone just wants to take off his clothes and go. jimin hates that so much. like he is flattered, yes, but why so fast? he is the most excellent lover you can think of when it comes to thrusting and changing positions, but he is focused on two personalities being emotionally satisfied first. conversation is not just foreplay to jimin. he does like bodies doing body things. but his dancing and tour routine can leave him collapsed on a hotel sofa for hours,
yoongi almost ties with namjoon, but he can get surprise flashes of horniness that even catch him off guard. those will be the most intense ahem studio sessions ever, it's so hot. yoongi loves sex on the occasion, he likes his partner's body, he likes pleasure. but he also loves to sleep, and the security of being beside someone. and his life is packed with work over sex. he doesn't make it a sleazy life philosophy. he thinks some good ass pov porn is pretty yummy, though. he likes the human form more than sex itself, if that makes sense. he's a pillow prince, but yoongi's backshots and "but your legs over my shoulders" can make even someone with no sex drive moan out loud. he knows how to use his hands from certain angles in certain positions, that's what's fun to him.
namjoon, like all intellectual people, prefers to think and write and research about it first. safe sex is smart sex is educated sex, right. it can be a voyeur role, which is why he's maximum perverted, even in the last spot on the list. like you could not picture what his mind can conjure. maybe that's why he struggles to turn this into reality, depending on you as his partner. i.e., he's smart about more things than he's tried, and always worried about sti-related things and pregnancy (same, namjoon). his libido is either dormant or his stamina comes to life for hours.
bonus sub!bts ranking - who loves kinky sex most?
taehyung - especially sensory deprivation
jin - especially roleplay and impact play
jungkook - especially bondage and butt stuff
j-hope - especially CFNM/nudity themes
jimin - especially feathers/tickling and degradation
Felix has always been clingy, the kind of best friend who never runs out of excuses to share your bed. At first it was movie nights, then it was because the apartment was too cold, and now it’s nightmares. You told yourself it was harmless, but things start to feel different when you realize your best friend is hard, pressed up against you in his sleep.
Pairing: soft dom ! reader x sub ! roommate ! bsf Felix
Genre: best friends au, roommates au, smut, angst (light)
Warnings: heavy emphasis on somnophilia ✦ NON-CONSENSUAL ✦ mutual masturbation ✦ handjob ✦ reader touches herself ✦ guilt & sexual tension ✦ needy!Felix ✦ innocent-looking but filthy dreams ✦ lots of whimpering/moaning ✦ best-friends-crossing-the-line feels.
Author’s note: this is the first fic i’m sharing here !! i originally wrote it in my main language and then translated it into english, so i hope everything came out right <3
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2 a.m. you wake to a sound you instantly recognize as your best friend and roommate Felix’s voice, fighting off sleep you manage to open your eyes just enough to see his silhouette standing in the doorway of your room.
"Can I sleep with you? I had another nightmare," he asks, his voice low and a little hoarse.
"Lix this is the third time this week… and also don’t you think you’re a little too big to be scared of nightmares?" you tease, and as you say it you pull the blanket back in an automatic gesture, inviting him onto your bed, because honestly you don’t really even care about your own argument.
"I’m not scared of nightmares, I just prefer to avoid them. And I never have bad dreams when I sleep with you," he says as he nestles himself beside you.
It had been a few months since the first time you two shared a bed, it happened after a party when you came home drunk and ended up falling asleep together in your room. After that, it became almost regular. Sometimes you would pass out watching movies, other nights Felix would say it was too cold to sleep alone. Now, his excuse was nightmares. Deep down you knew he always found a new reason, but you never questioned it, because in truth you liked it too.
It’s impossible to admit this to him without making things weird, but sleeping with Felix is nice. He’s warm, quiet, comfortable, and that’s exactly what you think about at 3 a.m., watching him sleep beside you.
He falls asleep almost instantly, while you lose yours. It’s not like you’d prefer to spend the night staring at the ceiling, but Felix wrapped around you so tightly that you can barely move without risking waking him.
Felix has always been clingy, and you’ve grown used to it. He never lasts more than three hours without hugging you, and sharing the bed doesn’t change that. Usually you sleep spooning, but on nights like this he presses so close to you that you can’t help but feel every inch of his body against yours.
And that’s where the problem starts.
You know it’s wrong to fantasize about your best friend while he sleeps innocently beside you, but how can you help it when you notice he’s hard? It’s normal, you try to remind yourself. An involuntary reaction, nothing more. At least that’s what you force yourself to believe whenever it happens.
And it happens often. Hard not to notice when he’s tangled up with you like that. Your body ignores logic and guilt, and your mind insists on painting scenes of Felix moaning your name, begging for more, while moving inside you.
You try so hard, but you can’t control those thoughts. The truth is, these last few months you’ve even thought about how Felix seems to be exactly your type. He’s so sweet, soft, needy, and right now all you can think is what it’d be like if he were under you.
But he’s your friend, your best friend. You’ve been together since childhood. You were inseparable at school, so it wasn’t a surprise to anyone when you both decided to go to the same university. It wasn’t odd either when you rented an apartment together near campus. You love having Felix around, life’s easier in pair. He’s always been there when things got tough.
Like when you had a fierce argument with your parents and he comforted you, letting you stay at his place as long as you needed. Or when you felt insecure about your body at a pool party in school and he complimented you so much that you walked out feeling like the prettiest girl there. And when you broke up with your almost five-year-long relationship a few months ago, Felix took you to a party after he found you crying locked inside your room. He never really liked parties, but that night the two of you danced, had fun, drank, and ended up cuddling in your bed.
The guilt you feel for all the dirty thoughts isn't just because Felix’s your best friend, it’s because he seems so innocent. Sure, the big eyes and cute freckles help create that image, but you also never saw him with anyone. He’s never introduced a girlfriend or boyfriend to you, he never brought anyone into your apartment, and he always seemed awkward and restless when you tried to open up about something intimate with your ex.
So in an act of self-preservation, you shift just enough for Felix, still asleep, to change position. Now he’s facing away from you, and you let out a relieved breath. This time, you hold him, trying to recapture that innocent normalcy. That is, until you start hearing little noises.
Felix makes low sounds, almost whimpering, and you can’t quite understand what’s going on until he starts moving his hip slightly, he’s in the middle of an erotic dream. The whole situation leaves you dizzy and, regretfully, very turned on. You want to be angry, blame Felix for putting you in this situation, but deep down you know the fault is entirely yours. You can’t blame him for wanting to sleep cozy with his best friend, nor for natural bodily reactions in sleep. He isn’t even conscious. You are. And you’re absolutely guilty for all the filthy thoughts you had while it was happening.
While you're internally wrestling with guilt, trying to hold onto whatever decency you’ve got left, Felix does the one last thing that shatters your sanity,
Between the whimpers, you hear a soft “Please…”
He’s still sleeping, you know that, but it's like he was begging you, right? How can you resist a pretty boy begging? You can’t, you know you can’t. These thoughts swirl in your head as you slowly lower your hand to his hard, needy cock.
The second you touch Felix’s cock, he almost instinctively starts grinding against your hand through his clothes and from the sounds he’s making you realize all he needed was a little friction to find relief. And that makes you almost feel better, after all, you're not using him, technically you’re the one being used. Except he doesn’t know… and he’s unconscious… and didn’t ask for any of this… and damn
Felix lets out a loud moan that snaps you out of all rational thought.
His voice is so sweet, so needy that fuck it, you’ll put the guilt aside until later, because now all you want is to hear more of those moans. You finally start moving your hand over him, mimicking the motions he was doing himself, and the response is immediate, he gets more vocal and every sound he makes seems to go straight into your pussy.
You slide your free hand into your own panties, exploring your release while continuing to stroke Felix. Your fingers trace through your folds and you can’t believe how wet you are, like nothing you’ve ever felt before.
Felix moans loudly, breathing raggedly, his hips seeking more friction. He’s close, you feel it, by the pulse in your hand, by the pre-cum soaking the fabric.
You pick up the pace, matching his rising desperation, until he cums, moaning loudly and pressing his cock into your hand. The intensity is so overwhelming that you reach your own orgasm right after, plunging your fingers into yourself until you can’t breathe.
Exhaustion crashes over you soon after. All you manage to do is roll onto your side and close your eyes.
When you wake up, it’s already morning. You notice the light leaking through the window cracks, the bed is empty, and the smell of pancakes drifting into your nose makes you hurry to the kitchen.
You walk in to see Felix humming happily while frying pancakes. As soon as he sees you, his eyes light up and he grins wide.
"Good morning, I made breakfast."
Your stomach twists, not just because you’re hungry, but because of the guilt of taking advantage of someone so sweet and attentive.
"You seem cheerful today, Lix," you force a smile, trying to mask the fog in your head.
"I slept well last night. I had good dreams," he says, still wearing that gigantic smile.
"What did you dream about?" you ask carefully, your voice low, even though you already have a pretty good idea of the answer.
"It’s none of your business," he says playfully, averting his eyes, "But you were there."
thank you so much if you made it all the way to the end 🫶 this is my very first time posting here, so i’m sorry for any mistakes (both in writing and in formatting) !! i’m still new to tumblr, so if you have any tips on how to make a proper post, i’d really appreciate it 💕
req: mingi finds readers computer w her search history and sees the type of fics she reads !! (sub bf , mommy kink, etc etc) and he wants to try based off what she reads !! matching her freak letting her guide him🙈
warnings: nsfw 18+, sub/switch mg, dom/switch reader, fluff, pwp, porn/ w plot, identity struggle?? edging, mommy kink mg, petnames (baby, good boy etc.)
wc. 2k
an. my first req in a long time! cheers! I got to work immediately and this is what came out, some adjustments were made but hopefully you still enjoy anonie! taglist: @sablewardapocalypse @joongnoodle @matznana @kisssan
The crisp night air leaked from the cracked window, tousling with the curtains as you laid against your boyfriend, mingi. to typical weekend fashion, you were tucked into a comforting fort of blankets and pillows, watching some sappy movie of your choice. large arm snaked around you, your head was softly laid on mingis chest, in a deep slumber.
with a silent chuckle, mingi slowly lowered the volume, picking up the computer to lower the screens lights, letting you drift into a peaceful sleep. while stopping the movie, his finger accidentally slipped, pressing a button that completely messed with the tab. grinning, he attempts his best to erase his mess, but instead seeing something like never before sitting on your other tab.
curious, he let himself quickly look, since you two never kept secrets about stuff like this. to his surprise, he felt his cheeks redden, eyes widen at what laid on the screen before him.
it was a low quality porno, the man tied to the bed frame, completely naked. the woman before him had no mercy, edging the man till he had tears prickling his eyes. finally getting his release, a chain of chanted mommy's passed his lips.
mingi couldn't process what he was seeing, or feeling for that matter. looking over at your sleeping form, his mind wandered. is this what you wanted? was all those times you had slept together unsatisfactory to you?
as you mumbled something in your daze, you placed your hand lightly against mingis chest, making him sigh and shake his head. that's not possible, he thought. But perhaps this could be interesting. with those lingering thoughts, mingi closed the tab quietly, returning everything to how they were before shutting the computer properly, easing down next to you. easier said than done, especially with his mind racing.. and cock insufferably firm in his sleep shorts.
⋆.˚
The next few days were a confusing blur for you. every time you had attempted to spend time with mingi, he had something to attend to. dinner with the bros, he had said the first time. work to be done at the studio, the second time was still normal. but when on sunday morning he shouted out going for a lengthy run, you had your suspicions. had something happened that you had missed completely?
so, when the evening rolled around and mingi finally returned, sweaty and messy, you decided to find out exactly what was going on.
leaning on the doorframe for support, pushing off his running shoes, mingi quickly looked up at you before taking off the other. the sweat had his hair sticking up all over, the black strands like a birds nest on his head, cheeks red.
"how was your run min?" you asked, sitting over on the living room couch. he just mumbled something in response, making your eyebrows turn to a frown.
"min, did something happen?" he pauses as he walks past you, looking forward and then to his feet. so something did happen. rubbing the back of his neck, you see the blush reach the tips of his ears. mouth opening but no words leaving, you turn in your seat, looking directly to his face.
"mingi, at least look at me" with a nod, he turns his gaze to you, those brown boba eyes so wide, a sliver of teeth peaking past his parted lips. you motion to him with raised hands, guiding him to speak. looking around the room, he finally spoke.
"something did happen" you sigh in both fear and relief, tapping the seat next to you on the couch. with small steps, mingi made his way next to you, hands resting on his thighs as he sat. gently, you let your hand lay on his shoulder blade, easing into the tight muscle.
"want to talk about it?" with a nod, mingi audibly swallowed before getting himself together, looking over at you with more intent now.
"are you satisfied with me" your jaw must've hit the floor by now, eyebrows curled in confusion and slight amusement.
"min, you can't possibly ask me that" he shakes his head.
"no you didn't get my question. are you satisfied with me.. in the bedroom"
you cant help the slight chuckle that passes your lips, mingi looking smaller then ever before you. what could possibly make this gentle giant question himself, you couldn't understand. your other hand now laid over his on his knee, you nod.
"obviously min, i love what we have together, in all aspects" fingers now tying together, he nods slowly, other hand going to rub the back of his neck.
"so you don't.. wish it was different?" raising a brow, you motion him to continue, as some words seem to hang on his tongue.
"the other night, when we were watching that movie? you fell asleep and i accidentally opened an another tab and saw this.. video"
the cogs in your head turn like they’re in slow-motion, remembering back and suddenly it hit you. now its your turn to feel small, cheeks burning up a bit as those big eyes look back at you with so many questions.
"min i- "
"you don't have to apologise, just answer the question, please"
taking a moment to think of a proper response, you feel mingis grip on your hand tighten a bit, the hand slightly clammy.
"no, not necessarily. i love what we have like i said, but i suppose.. i have some other things i like too-" mingi nods as you continue;
"- i just didn't know how to bring it up with you, i'm sorry min" shaking his head, you can see clarity in mingis vision this time as he looks at you.
"if its what you like, i'd always be down to try it" pausing for a second, you turn your head a bit in question. finally, that sly smile you ever so love takes over mingis face, as he nods.
"you know, i didn't avoid you because i found it weird. i was avoiding you, because i wasn't sure how to be in terms with the fact finding that got me.. interested" you're both reaching new heights of blushing by now, something so intimate and truly you about this moment.
"tell you what min.. how about you go take a shower and then come find me in the bedroom? that sound good?" you can visibly see something shift in the man, nodding his head so quick, slipping away within seconds to rush the shower. once you're alone, you chuckle, shaking yourself back to reality. this was really happening.
⋆.˚
Waiting there on the bed felt like a million years. you could hear the water from the shower stop, hear the shuffling of fabric, the nervousness rise inside you. as the door finally opened, revealing a mingi, only a dark towel tied around his hips, hand ruffling up his clean hair. he was so perfect like this, so exposed, so comfortable.
with a few movements, he was next to you on the edge of the bed, eyes wide.
"so- where do you want me?" something in you burned at the request, but you had to slow him down a little, shaking your head slightly.
"before that, just know if you want to stop, just tell me alright?" mingi nods, his hand now gripping on the flesh of your thigh, a glint sparkling in his eyes.
"go there, lay against the headboard, and wait there" like struck by lightning, mingi climbed up the bed, letting his head rest against the board. with a satisfied hum, you circled around to the side of him, no touching.
"now, tell me, what was it that you liked about that video?" you can feel mingis face radiating heat, the skin pink as he struggles to look at you directly. as your hand slightly ghosts the skin of his abdomen, his breath sucks in sharply, eyebrows twisting.
"the way the guy was completely under her control i suppose.. the power dynamic" you nod, caressing the curves and textures along his stomach, back down to brush his happy trail.
"what about the edging, how'd that make you feel?" you asked, holding eye contact as you traveled even lower, palming mingis growing hardness through the towel. he practically hissed at the contact, hands straightening to the sides on the bedspread. nodding swiftly, his head turning against the headboard.
“feels.. so good” is what manages to tear out of him, your hand slightly tightening around his length, causing a chain reaction.
you can see his skin shiver, a higher pitched noice slipping out, hand flying to cover his mouth. but you don’t let him, pulling the hand off with ease, making him pout slightly.
”let me hear you baby, sound so beautiful for me” he nods, an another sound passing as you move your hand up and down against him. then, you let go completely, mingis eyes flashing back open. he whines at the loss, squirming on the bed.
”oh baby.. you didnt think i’d let you off that easy? c’mon take this off for me” gulping, mingi tears off the remaining fabric on his body, letting his large cock spring out of its containment, demanding attention.
"still with me?" mingi nodded quickly, head spinning in bliss.
”now, play with yourself for me” mingis eyes widen, mouth dry as he looks at you. you nod with a grin, settling nicely before him.
”did i stutter? go on” with a nod, his hand slowly moves down his abdomen, letting it rest on the tilt. as you nod him forward, he sighs, the need passing all embrassment left in his system.
”that’s it, goodd”
the pleasure is visible on mingis face, plump lips parted, some spit running down the side of his mouth. pupils blown wide, his eyes close as the sensation takes over. hand tight around himself, the pre-cum wetting his way as his fist passes up and down on the length. as his finger brushes against his slit, the lightest of whimpers tears out, cheeks burning.
”good boy min, faster” the petname drives him insane, a new leak of pre-cum trickling down his cock as his speed picks up. his other hand reaches for something, wandering the bed in need of contact as pleasure waves inside him.
moving to sit next to him, you take his hand into yours, his eyes snapping open again, so dazed and slightly teary as the pleasure builds. he’s so out of it, so lost in the feeling, something incoherent laying on the tip of his tongue. squeezing his hand, you bring him back to you.
”what was that baby? speak up”
"feels so good.. mommy" that spiked something deep inside you, and mingi noticed it too, eyelashes fluttering, lip between his teeth.
"yeah? you wanna be a good boy for mommy and cum?" mingis moans and whimpers only louden as you speak filth into his ear, fingers nudged deep in your grip. his speed is relentless, tight and fast, pulling closer and closer to his finish. when you lean over to him, placing a soft bite on mingis neck, he knows its too late to stop.
"oh shit- mommy!" he couldn't possibly have been louder, cheeks flaming red as his cum comes in thick ropes, coating both his own stomach and even hitting your thighs in the process. with his body shaking, mind fuzzy, you spare him a tender smile, a soft kiss on the edge of his mouth.
"did so good for me min, so good" with a soft smile, chest heaving, he's finally coming back from his down. wiping down sweat from his forehead, he softly started to speak again;
"want you to feel good too, please" his voice low, hand placed on your inner thigh, those pleading boba eyes ever so big. how could you turn down such a request?
so, with a nod, mingi enthusiastically shimmied up, swapping positions with you. with ease, he moved down your body, leaving behind marks and sloppy kisses, before finally being in touch with where you needed it most.
before leaning in, his eyes made contact with yours, that same glint in them from earlier;
𓏲ּ𝄢 sub mingi ! who loves to receive dirty kisses, teeth and tongue. until his lips are plump and pink so he can stare in the mirror. long and hard at the mess. pouting and posing at his reflection, "mama, do you think i look good?'"
𓏲ּ𝄢 sub mingi ! who likes to tease, crushing his huge body against you, pushing his plush torso to your back. leaning down, humid breath pooling hot against your skin. kissing up to the crook of your ear. a wet pop that released with a nasty moan, from deep inside. he rubs, almost humps against you, whining desperately to excite you. "i need you, please."
𓏲ּ𝄢 sub mingi ! who likes it when it hurts. likes it when he's a twitching mess, fat tears rolling down his cheeks, it's just too good. when he cums and you pump harder, making his cock burn, red tip dripping soo much. he can't even open his poor eyes. such a beautiful drooling mess. "n-no more, no!"
𓏲ּ𝄢 sub mingi ! who sneaks under the sheets, locking fingers with you, playing it off as an innocent act. kissing the back of your palm to then stretch your fingers and wrap them around his lips. sinking his head into them until he gags. cute little tears bubbling up, only to repeat the motion, oh how he loves to be used.
𓏲ּ𝄢 sub mingi ! who likes to get in the bathtub and straddle you in his lap. grabbing soap and rubbing it all over your boobs to then press you against him. both chests squished together. bouncing up and down. nipples touching yours, dancing in tandem. "you feel so good, doll." spewing praise at him while gripping at the root of his scalp.
𓏲ּ𝄢 sub mingi ! who is a bratty one, cursing at you every chance he gets. "you are such a cunt." while you ride his poor brains out. "ffuck you..." while you swirl his pink tip around your tongue. "such a bitch."
𓏲ּ𝄢 sub mingi ! who goes into sub-space and blabbers nonsense while you finger him. drool spilling down his sternum. making direct eye contact with the way you fuck his ass.
𓏲ּ𝄢 sub mingi ! who grabs onto you tightly and falls asleep right between your chest. chanting over and over how much he loves you.
𓏲ּ𝄢 sub mingi ! who is an occasional switch, who bends you over and fucks mama how she deserves. ㅤ♡ྀི
I LOVE imagining long blond hair bf!idol!jimin eating you out while getting his hair pulled/tugged on uggh he’d be such an eater
“y-yess mimi right there”, you whimpered, tugging on your boyfriends long blond locks. jimin was between your thighs, slurping and sucking at your clit. he loved licking up your juices, the taste heavy on his tongue.
“God you taste heavenly on my tongue, love”, Jimin groaned, rubbing his fingers against your clit before diving right back in, his tongue colliding with your pussy. a string of whimpers spilled from your mouth, throwing your head back as your back arched. your senses were overwhelmed in the best way. feeling your boyfriend lick from your entrance to the base of your clit, the feeling making your eyes roll back.
you tug harder on his hair, hearing him whimper against your sobbing wet pussy, mixtures of spit and your juices making it glisten. “please add a finger baby please”, you beg. jimin silently obeys, sliding a finger into your entrance while his tongue remained on your cunt.
“Oh my god yesss mimi just like thattt”. “Like that, baby?” he asked, pumping his finger in and out of you, the squelching sound echoing through the bedroom. You nod eagerly. “Yes just like that please add more”. “Gladly, my love”, he gives your pussy a wet kiss before going back to giving it long licks. he added another finger, feeling you tighten around.
“Fuckkk so eager baby. so greedy for my fingers, huh?” jimin slurs against your wet cunt. You nod, feeling that tingling feeling building up the more he licked and sucked on your clit. “love this pussy, love it so much”, jimin whimpered. “please pull my hair again”, he begged. “y-you sure?” jimin nods eagerly. You do as told, tugging and God if you would’ve tugged any harder he would’ve came in his pants right then.
“m’so close mimi, gonna, needa cum soon”, you whimper, pushing his head closer into your mound, your thighs tightening around his head. “need me to get you there, sweetheart? you need it?” “yes please babyyy get me there”. jimin pumps his fingers faster, moving his head back and forth as he buried himself deeper into your pussy. you pant, your chest heaving heavily. “yes yes! ohhh my god m’cumming!”, your body arches as a loud moan rips through your throat.
you swear you see stars for a split second, your brain going fuzzy as your back meets the bed again. you pant, trying to catch your breath as jimin laps up the last of your juices.
“god that was amazing”, you say, out of breathe. jimin chuckled. “glad you enjoyed it”. “I didn’t hurt you, though? I tugged on your hair pretty hard” jimin shook his head, leaning in for a kiss. “I loved it, the pain was good” “new kink to add to the list then?” you tease. jimin nods, the two of you laughing together.
related writings 💞😽 their orgasm faces / comforting busan + daegu line / punishment kink / giving them hickeys / how masochistic are they
jimin :: Certainly the most reactive member next to Hobi, which both goes without saying. He sobs quietly, but the complaints are loud and aching. That’s a nice contrast. You pulling his hair has Jimin frustrated, if not impatient: But he won’t be rewarded at all. You get a pretty sight. Until the gag finds its way into his mouth and all he can do is drool. “Shut up, toy. You do as I say.” As you delightfully punish him for all the attention he gets. Every tweet, every headline, each comment. You’ve seen it. You’re a domme who can envy, and you’re a domme who can degrade. Bad toy. Greedy, perfect slut. Stupid little thing. You hurl the insults at Jimin whose last bit of submissive pride crumbles under the lashings and warm spit you pile on him. “Why do you do this to me, Mistress,” he pleads when you remove the gag, and more spank pain is all he gets as a response, on top of you explaining that clearly he’s too pretty for his own good. Want to be a male manipulator? Get ready for a red behind. Rationalizing anything about this won’t help. Jimin promises he won’t cause a commotion again, that he will be good, modest, blend in, behave and not be so gorgeous it causes problems: Even if that’s him being caught in a sweet lie. More free and frequent chances for you: To punish him so deliciously.
taehyung :: Making him cry in bed? With impact play, especially? That’s even easier than if someone were to sneak up on his designer closet to cut up his favorite Italian sweater. What epic drama would ensue: He’d throw himself on the ground like a doomed Shakespearean actor, cursing the gods and humanity at large. So, yeah, he has some vast, theatrical potential for this. Any dominant would recognize it. One stroke with a paddle and he reacts… shaky little thing, pretty as he is. Not even his military muscles will prevent that sensitivity. Instantly, a sharp and loud exhale comes out as a rough response. And no need for scissors (unless it’s for rope safety measures), undressing him in a bondage set isn’t all that difficult as well with those flimsy gym clothes of his. Tanktop, ripped off, shorts, pulled down. Please, fuck, he begs, wailing. Taehyung easily cries when his domme makes impossible demands, too: Do 300 pull-ups, show off your body. Taehyung, iron these clothes naked. Taehyung, pay for this high-fashion jacket I want. His begging and tears: Ignored. The designer jacket: Still finds its way under the Christmas tree or birthday cake sooner rather than later. Domming in style!
seokjin :: Now here’s a little secret. Ready? It’s not the soy sauce and eggs running out that makes Jin cry, even if that’s a real drama. He can always text Hobi to get more supplies, because Hoseok has a whole damn world-end pantry. So, no sense of panic there. Call Jin the Weeknd the way he can save his chef tears for another day! Here’s that pack of rice, Hobi says, and then Jin can make you what you wanted to eat. No problem. Anyway. What actually gets the hyung tears going? After dropping a popsicle on him last summer, you found out temperature play is what drives Jin insane by accident. Any little move of yours with an ice cube, amplified by the blindfold of silk that obscures his vision (he looks really good in this, so you take pictures). He struggles against the crispy cold or spicy candle wax, freezing water, or hot bruises from your whip. His tall body - the back especially - offers plenty space to mess him all up. Vocal as he is, Jin never disappoints when his bound wrists are suspended from the ceiling hook you installed. He knows he is all yours. He only wants you to trace feathers and paddles all over his lean and perfect body, all until he sobs. He shivers, the blindfold is soaked with tears, but mostly out of desperate antici…pation.
yoongi :: Oh this guy. How to even go about this. Even the worst whip cannot make Min Yoongi wail, no. Spanking him barely elicits a little “ya!” if you’re lucky. It’s not the highest level of stimulation he can truly achieve compared to, say, most vibrating toys you use on him (inside of him, alternatively, mind you). Or gentle femdom, since cuddles are just more effective to send a shiver down his spine. Safe to say Yoongi is a physically resilient but internally soft-hearted man: He’s danced with a messed up shoulder for years, you think a riding crop can make him squeal? You’d have to be really cruel to make him sniff, because the emotional component is what can get to him fully. Exhaustion, cluelessness, regret. A threeway roleplay scenario is sure to break him. Involve a third party, man or woman, doesn’t matter who, they show up in your house, they just flirt a little… His nose will swell from redness and his eyes gloss over when he sees you hugging them. Shocked. They hugged his domme? Does he have some kind of kink for being a cuck? Almost. Not for seeing you have sex with someone else. Which is why the third party quickly leaves. Yoongi’s attachment will send him into overdrive and he’ll be clingy for weeks. That’s when you’ll see your sub pine for mercy with wet eyes. And it’s cute, he’s so affectionate.
hoseok :: How sincere is he. Really. This is the most heartbreaking thing to witness in bed. Have you seen this man when he’s sad and down? This is the most gut-wrenching, earth-shaking, terrifying occurrence in the history of natural disasters and humankind as a whole. Who wouldn’t want to protect him instantly. So, I don’t think this can get or remain sexual at one point. “If Hoseok cries, everyone else does!” Because it’s so… it just gets you. This doesn’t even happen as a planned kink, but as a default occurrence. With the whole Hannam neighborhood knowing, he is just so loud. You can pretty much count on it happening rather than not, Hobi’s a natural. And he looks so sweet, so pathetic. You always rush to comfort him right away. And he’s so thankful. Now, much like Jungkook, he’s the type to cry before if you compliment him, during because he’s overwhelmed, and after a play session because the sub drop and relief is just insane. I guess that’s why it’s not as much of a kink thing, because kink is planned out. It’s a byproduct that just happens, you don’t have to elicit it. Instead, he laughs through the tears and fixes himself. An embrace that lasts a whole evening will ease him, and watching a movie with hot chips is long overdue then. He’d do the same for you, if not more fervently, to soothe you, too.
namjoon :: Torturing poor (sexy) bookworm Joon by making him read a sad old novel out loud isn’t exactly kinky, unless you really dig his voice and a hundred pages of utter poetic gloom from the so-and-so-hundreds. Clearly, that’s not a viable option, then. The world is horrible enough, as is a majority of literature, whether it’s the writing quality itself or the subject matter at hand. Instead, you figured out his weak spot. Not in terms of reading, or emotionally - the other hyungs are easy to impact in that regard, I am seeing a trend - but physically. It’s endurance. Keeping him still and locked in place, vulnerably naked, like in a dim subterranean room, for a long time, that makes him absolutely lose it. Getting no response from you. No tools or dialogue. You watch… his impatience already implodes. You being cold while he is caged? Joon is toast. Maybe you should be the one reading, and he has to listen: Reverse engineered! The principle is the same, Namjoon just feels obligated in his leader role which dictates him to look out for everything and everyone and hustle and bustle. Well, he can’t move! The desperation makes him cry, but it’s a good thing this man is forced to stand still once. So, the let-me-move-ma’am tears are? Cathartic.
jungkook :: Date night sure has its glamorous perks. Back doors and back rooms and kissing back to back, backs of cars and Jungkook liking you back. And more than just some top-notch ultra-ramen. In fact, you drain your cutesy pay pig boy toy’s ample wallet with some major appetite, dessert being the most delicious a+ ice cream of them all. You jam out during your ride home in the car - he’s so good at karaoke, it’s free serenading - and Jungkook slides off his black hoodie once you get home like a stripper as you switch on your favorite album. The pants stay on. Gotta digest first, okay: Not so fast. Taking it slow from there. Sofa, low lights, bass gentle. He dances well, swaying hips, like a good pet, so you give him the tickling and kisses he deserves. “Sweet baby.” And there we go. The weight of the day and all that schedule collapses on him. Aftercare tears and foreplay tears and main act tears and everything tears will follow. More sniffling than dramatic sobs, but sometimes, the waterworks do open and he is so vulnerable and ruined and even hornier. Silly little one, thinking his emotional display would make you slow down to heed his obvious overstimulation? You know damn well this man has the sharpest and most sensitive sense in the whole group. You’ll exploit it like his cash. Jungkook likes it. Mommy deserves it.
masterlist. / read it on ao3
art: The Fallen Angel (1847) — by Alexandre Cabanel, oil on canvas
“You’re literally a baby Min Yoongi.” You teasingly insulted as he nestled his head warmly into your chest. The only thing illuminating being the television playing a sappy yet interesting romcom.
“A baby for cuddlingmmgirlff?” You erupted in laughter, “I can’t hear you when you’re suffocating yourself Min.”
Sighing he resorted to laying on his side, legs tangled in yours lazily draping his arm over your waist. His head still rests on your chest, he presses his ear closely relaxing to your pumping heartbeat. “I said, hmm-“ he pulled you closer taking in your body heat, inhaling your body wash scent. “I’m a baby Just for cuddling my girlfriend?”
“No, you’re a baby for being obsessed with my chest.” You toyed with his dark silky tresses, letting the movie capture your attention again.
Playfully he nudged your breast with his rounded button nose. “If that makes me a baby, i don’t want to be an adult.” He jokes, creeping his comfortably warm hand up your nightshirt.
“Ah Ah Ah Min, not tonight we’ve been fucking like rabbits since the AM all because it’s your day off.” You tried to ignore his pouted face, his jutted lip always gets you in times like these. As far as he was concerned, he made the most of his day and he planned to do the same with the night.
“But we don’t have to fuck, just let me see them.” He begged sincerely, jokingly just to creep on his nerves you ignored his seemingly innocent request by turning up the television ignoring his pleading gaze.
“Y/n, please! I won’t ask again!” Giggling at his desperation you lost the little game you tried to play. “You’re a damn lie Min Yoongi.” He lifted your shirt a bit higher, determined for what he wanted.
“C’mon y/n you know I’ll make it enjoyable...”
You rolled your eyes, meeting his gaze.
“You won’t bother me about it for the rest of the night?”
With that he sighed pulling himself up on his elbow, “well, y/n if it bothers you that much we don’t have to do anything you know that r-” you ceased his respectful rant by removing the shirt, leaving you nude from the waist up. Your bottom half hidden under blankets.
“Fuck, I’m so lucky.”
Since you two first started being intimate, it wasn’t hard to notice his strong attraction to your chest, he’d kneed and nurse you all day if you let him.
Almost instantly he began kissing and nipping over the bruises he’d left earlier. “So good y/n.”
He collected saliva from his tongue, using his fingers to give the other bud attention while he latched onto the one closest to him.
Suckeling and nibbling only as hard as you’d let him. Yoongi was in his own personal paradise nestled into you, suckeling his eyes fluttered shut.
Removing with a comedic pop just to replace his lips back. “Waiting for milk?” You joked watching his cheeks turn deep pink. He chose not to respond.
Grabbing you wrist he brought your hand to his hair, asking for your sweet caress.
“You act like you want to sleep this way?” You teased brushing hair from his dark eyes. He nodded, nipple perched between his supple lips. “You’re lucky I love you.” He smiled closing his eyes, finding a good pace.
Contains: shameless filth with multiple rounds(sex bender I dare say), freaks falling in love with each other's freakiness, pent-up illustrator/artist unistudent!hyunjin who is kinda shy/bit of a loser and equally as pent up TA!reader
Names used, positions and kinks: baby(for both), ma'am(for reader), pretty girl(for reader), sweetheart(for him), slight choking, tear licking, cowgirl, missionary, ass up face down, dry humping, make out, flirting, dirty talk
Wc: 7.3k
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
It wasn't your fault; his lips looked like the sin of lust come alive. It wasn't your fault you both frequented the same bar, either. And it most definitely wasn't your fault that he was a grade A munch.
At least that's what you told yourself when, for the third time that week(it was Wednesday), Hyunjin texted you asking to see you. He was distracted and aching. Pervert.
●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●
But a bit from the beginning of it all:
The first time you slept together was an accident and an indulgence in both your stupidly human desires.
It was about a month into the new academic year, and it was your first time teaching Hyunjin’s class. Having had only a couple of lectures with them, you didn’t remember all their faces, let alone each of their names; there were more than 80 people, for fuck’s sake, plus Hyunjin wasn't from the goody two-shoes types that sat in the front row for you to remember his face. He sat a little further back, always observing you, silently.
So when your eyes passed over the neighbouring table when you were at a bar with your friends, you didn’t pay any mind to the man whose eyes were digging into the ground since the second he saw you walk in. You didn’t know who he was, but he sure as hell knew you.
It was a Friday night after his table of friends, and yours seemed to merge as the night went on inside a bar that you had been going to for years now. And it seemed like he had also taken a liking to it after moving into the city for university.
You didn’t notice him at first.
Which, in hindsight, might’ve saved you a lot of trouble if it had stayed that way.
He noticed you, though. That much was obvious later—painfully obvious, in the way everything about him tended to be once you knew where to look.
It started small.
A glance that lingered too long. Then disappeared the second you even shifted slightly toward him. The kind of thing you almost miss if you’re not paying attention—but once you are, it becomes impossible to ignore.
You caught it by accident.
Halfway through a conversation, your eyes flicked past his table—and there he was, already looking at you. Not casually. Not in that effortless, confident way some people do.
No—he looked like he’d been staring. And the second your eyes met, he froze. Actually froze. His posture stiffened, his fingers tightening around his glass like he didn’t know what to do with them anymore. His gaze dropped so fast it was almost impressive, like he’d been burned.
You blinked.
Huh.
Pretty, your brain supplied a second later, unhelpfully. Pretty in a way that didn’t match the rest of him—the awkwardness, the way he seemed slightly out of place in his own body, like he hadn’t quite figured out where to put his limbs.
And then, like he felt you still looking, he glanced back up. Just for a second.
Long enough to confirm that, yes—he had been staring.
And yes—he was doing it again.
You didn’t look away this time.
That was your first mistake.
—
The tables merging wasn’t planned either. It just… happened. Someone dragged over a chair, someone else shifted, drinks were shared, names were exchanged too quickly to remember. The kind of messy social overlap that always happens when the night stretches long enough, and the music gets just loud enough to excuse proximity.
And suddenly, he was closer.
Not next to you. Not yet.
But close enough that you could see the way he kept glancing over—and then immediately pretending he wasn’t.
It was almost… endearing.
Almost.
“What’s your name?”
You didn’t even realize you’d spoken until he startled. Actually startled.
His head snapped toward you, eyes wide for half a second before something like panic flickered across his face.
“Oh—uh—” His voice caught. You raised a brow.
He swallowed, visibly collecting himself. “Hyunjin.”
He said it like he wasn’t sure it was the right answer.
You repeated it, slower. Testing it. His ears turned red. Not a little. A lot.
“…yeah,” he said quietly, like he didn’t trust his voice to do much more than that. You leaned back slightly, studying him now without pretending otherwise.
“Relax,” you said. “I’m not interrogating you.”
“I’m relaxed,” he replied immediately. He was not relaxed.
His grip on his glass said otherwise. So did the way his shoulders were slightly hunched, like he was trying to make himself smaller even though he very much wasn’t. You hummed. “Sure.”
—
He didn’t flirt. That was the thing. Or—if he did, it wasn’t intentional.
There were no smooth lines. No teasing confidence. No practiced charm.
Instead, there was this constant, quiet attention. He listened too closely. Watched too carefully and reacted a second too late sometimes, like he was processing everything you said twice before responding.
And when you spoke directly to him?
It was worse. He’d look at you—really look—and then immediately seem like he regretted it. Like he didn’t know what to do with the fact that you were looking back.
“You’re quiet,” you pointed out at some point.
“Sorry.”
You snorted. “That wasn’t a complaint.”
“Oh.” He paused. “Okay.” And then he went right back to being quiet.
You stared at him for a second.
“Do you come here often?” he surprisingly spoke again.
You snorted before you could stop yourself. “That’s the worst line I’ve ever heard.”
“I know.” His voice was softer up close. Low, a little rough around the edges, like he didn’t use it properly.
“I’ve been a regular for years, actually,” you let out smoothly, curious as to where he’s going to take it.
“It may be a bad line, but you answered,” he said so so quietly, blushed at his own attempt at flirting(yes- this was him trying to flirt). Oh, so he can be sassy? You thought to yourself.
----
He ended up next to you without either of you acknowledging it.
One moment, there was space. The next, there wasn’t.
His knee brushed yours under the table. And immediately jerked away. “Sorry—”
“It’s fine.” you said smoothly. He hesitated. Then, slowly, like he was testing something, his knee drifted back. Barely touching. Like he was giving you every opportunity to pull away.
You didn’t. That was your second mistake.
—
You started noticing things. The way his fingers fidgeted when he wasn’t holding something. The way he kept licking his lips without realizing it. The way he’d open his mouth like he was about to say something—and then stop himself. And the staring. God, the staring.
“You do that a lot,” you said suddenly.
He tensed. “Do what?”
“Look at me like that.”
His entire body went still.
“I—don’t—”
“You do.”
You tilted your head slightly, watching him squirm under the attention.
“Why?”
He opened his mouth. Closed it. His throat moved when he swallowed.
“I just—” he started, then stopped again, visibly flustered. “I wasn’t—trying to—”
“That’s not what I asked.”
That made it worse.
His ears were fully red now. His gaze dropped to the table, like it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.
“I just think you’re—” He cut himself off.
You waited.
He didn’t finish.
“…what?” you prompted.
He shook his head quickly. “Nothing.”
You leaned in slightly.
“Hyunjin.”
That got his attention. He looked at you like he didn’t have a choice.
“Yes?”
There it was again—that soft, immediate response. Like he was tuned to you in a way he couldn’t turn off. You held his gaze for a second longer than necessary.
“You’re bad at this.”
“…I know.”
No hesitation. No ego. Just quiet, honest defeat.
And for some reason— that was worse.
------
The first time you touched him on purpose, he stopped breathing. You didn’t even do anything. Just reached over to take his glass when he’d set it down too close to the edge.
Your fingers brushed his. That was it.
But he reacted like you’d done something much bigger. His shoulders tensed. His inhale hitched—sharp, audible if you were close enough (you were). You paused.
Looked at him.
“…you good?”
He nodded too quickly. “Yeah.” He was not good.
You didn’t move your hand right away. Neither did he. And suddenly the air felt heavier than it should. That was your third mistake.
—
By the time your friends had drifted off and the bar had grown louder and more crowded, you were very aware of him. Of how close he was. Of how he kept glancing at you like he was trying not to and failing. Of how every time you shifted, he noticed.
“You’re thinking too much,” you told him.
“I do that.”
“I can tell.”
He let out a quiet breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
“Sorry.”
You rolled your eyes. “Stop apologizing.”
“…okay.”
He lasted maybe thirty seconds.
“Sorry—”
You laughed this time, cutting him off. He ducked his head, embarrassed—but smiling a little.
And there it was. That soft, helpless thing about him. That yearning.
It crept up on you without warning.
“Do you want to get out of here?”
You didn’t expect him to say it. Honestly, you thought you’d be the one to push it there eventually—if it even got there at all. But he did.
And immediately looked like he regretted it.
“I mean—not like—if you don’t want to, that’s—fine, I just thought—” he rushed out, words tripping over each other. “It’s loud, and—”
“Hyunjin.”
He stopped. Looked at you.
“…yeah?”
“Breathe.”
He exhaled.
------
That night. God, that night. You entered your apartment at around 1 am.
Thank god it was a Friday night because you kept each other up until 4.
When you pressed your lips to his in the elevator, he returned the kiss immediately, twice as eager, but his hands were held up in the air like he had just gotten busted by the cops or something. Yours were around his neck. After the greedy kiss, you pulled away and cracked your eyes open. Seeing his hands in the air made you giggle.
What you didn’t anticipate was that just as you reached your own hands towards his, he let out a breath that was accompanied by the faintest, most pathetic whimper and dove back into your lips. He licked your lower lip, and when you didn’t open your mouth the second he did that, he started leaving quick pecks and tilted his head to suck gently on your lower lip. A little entitled, huh.
By the time you were on your couch, he had at least gathered the courage to lay his hands on your waist. You had straddled him, fingers in his hair, grinding back and forth, and the moments you weren’t kissing were spent with your lips millimeters away from each other, breathing heavily. You pressed down harder and ground forwards, making his jaw hang as he let out a breathy whimper along with a shaky breath.
His hands wrapped tighter around your waist, moving you greedily to grind you down exactly where he needed you. The drag pulled a slight whine from you as the hard zipper of his jeans stroked your clit teasingly through your clothes.
You held his jaw in place so you could kiss him better as you felt him start to shake, his hands specifically trembling undeniably.
“Fuck- sorry,” he said quietly in between the filthy sound of your wet lips separating, “It’s just a lot.” You didn’t respond, only gripped him more roughly, making him moan at the feeling.
He whimpered into the kiss as you continued to rock your hips. His bottom lip between your teeth, then his tongue in your mouth, then your hot breaths tangling when you pull away for a break. Drowning in him was dizzying.
And it was all a lot for him. So much so that when you held onto his shoulders and pushed them so you could sit up and grind down with even more force, you observed that his plump lips were wet and glistening, but so were the corners of his mouth. This motherfucker was drooling. Not only that, his eyes had glassy tears on the brink of his lashline only because of a make out, his cheeks were red, and blush continued down his neck. His brows were slightly arched up, his hands were still shaking around your waist, and his chest was heaving up and down. One of your hands slowly wrapped around his throat, as you held eye contact with the mess of a man below you.
“I see you're enjoying yourself, huh?” you said while putting some pressure on his neck. He nodded repeatedly. You stopped your movements immediately. “Yes, ma’am, yes, I’m enjoying myself, ma’am, I-I am.” His voice hurried to come out, shaking and rougher than usual, cracking in the middle of his words once he felt the halt of your body. You hummed approvingly and continued your steady grinding. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he whispered continuously like a man gone mad. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
Leaning forward, you laid a soft kiss on his jaw and pushed more of your body weight onto your hands that were on his throat, consequently pressing down on it, making him moan and buck his hips up. “Fuck” he moaned, “You like that, baby.” You didn’t ask, just told him, the guy clearly had a thing for pain. “I do, ma’am, please.” He looked like he was in a trance, eye either looking at your lips like a stranded man at water or looking at the point between your legs that connected you to him as you moved.
His hands finally gathered the courage to move. They drifted from the side of your breasts down to your ass and then settled on squeezing your thighs as they moved against him. He didn't squeeze in a vulgar way; his palms felt like he was molding clay, eager and intentional. You leaned your head forward, tilting your face as if hovering over his. “Open wide for me, pretty boy,” you commanded in a tone that alone could make his knees buckle. He obeyed immediately, opening his mouth and letting his tongue halfway out while looking up at you. The image alone made your brain short-circuit. You tangled one of your hands into the front of his hair as the other one stayed wrapped about his neck.
You gathered some spit in your mouth and let it drip down directly onto his tongue. With a failure to suppress your smile, you bit your lip, but you noticed- he’s not moving, he hasn’t swallowed. He was waiting for your order to do so.
You decided to take advantage of his obedience. You leaned, letting go of his neck, petting his chest as you sucked sweet marks on his soft skin as the poor man was putting all of his concentration into keeping his mouth in the same position and his head tilted up for your saliva so it wouldn’t spill from the surface of his tongue.
After a minute of that, you felt his hands move and massage your thighs gently, begging. His movements were accompanied by a tight whine coming from deep in his throat as he squeezed his eyes shut, just to have them land on you when he opened them. Cloudy, half-lidded, teary eyes looking at you like you were his salvation.
“You are such a good boy for me, baby,” you said fondly into his ear, not giving any attention to his pleas. Pulling your head back, you enjoyed the view for one last second before giving the order, “Let me see you swallow it now.” Oh, and he did, with so much force that he gasped after because he didn’t realize he’d paused his breathing while waiting for your command.
Both of you stayed still for a second, just staring at each other. Maybe in disbelief of how well you were matching each other’s freak, maybe just taking a moment before you jumped each other’s bones. It was more the ladder, in all honesty, the first one could wait for later.
While staring, you couldn’t help but think his little fazed gaze was incredibly endearing, so you giggled while petting the side of his face. Apparently, he took that as you about to leave him just like that because what he did next surprised you(pleasantly). He held your waist securely while your hands instinctively went to his shoulders, and he flipped you so you were lying on the couch. He was panting over you; he’s shaking again. “Please, I-I know I'm shaking, that just happens when I get overwhelmed,” he started, pleading with his beautiful eyes, hair messy and cheeks flushed, “but I need this, please, need it so bad.”
As opposed to what he would have expected you to do, his vulnerability made you cup his face and bring him in for a deep, toothachingly sweet kiss. “You need it badly, baby?” you said against his lips in a voice that made his cock drip. He nodded like a dumb puppy, “Mhm, yeah, yes, please.” his sweet voice and shameless honesty made you coo at him as one of your hands descended from his face to palm his cock through his pants. He gasped and bit his lip, looking down at your hand. As you felt a more damp spot, your gaze went down and saw the embarrassingly prominent darkened fabric on his crotch.
“Oh, I can tell,” you said teasingly, “Look at yourself, sweetheart, such a mess.” You looked back up at him with a devilish smile, not even trying to hide how proud you were that you had this effect on him.
He closed his eyes tightly, tilting his head up to suppress the needy moan threatening to come out of his throat purely because of the grazing of your hand and your degrading tone. “I know, I know,” he whispered more to himself.
“Hyunjin, look at me,” you said more sternly. He did, immediately. “You're such a pretty little thing, it’d be a shame not to ride you.” You swore you saw the gears in his brain turn, trying to process what you said and how you said such a thing in the same tone you’d tell him your grocery list.
He couldn’t say anything; he was trying to think of an entire sentence to say, but he couldn’t- failed miserably. So instead, he just nodded, then leaned down and kissed you like a dog licking his owner’s face in gratitude. You gently pushed him away with a smile, “Undress.”
When I tell you he skedaddeled and went to take his t-shirt off and pull his pants down. You took off your bottoms and unbuttoned your shirt, then he scooped you in both arms. “Hey!” you yelped in a fit of giggles as you found yourself unexpectedly in the air, his hands under your ass, your knees bent and clamping around his offensively small waist instinctively. He smiled, seeing you laugh, your faces centimeters away from each other, grinning like idiots. When you both stopped letting out breathy giggles and a moment of silence settled, you wrapped your arms around his neck again. “A bit impatient?” he nodded eagerly. ”Sit.” A second later, he has plopped down on the couch with you in his arms.
Your lips were connected as you glided your fingers down his stomach, grazing his V-line. Smiling into the kiss as you felt the little veins going down his abdomen, you hooked your pointer fingers on his underwear and pulled so so slowly, making him whine. He was desperate and eager yet seemed so weirdly anxious and shaky. He felt you pull away from the deep French kiss and kept latching his lips onto whatever he could- your jaw, neck, collarbone, chest, below your ear, on your shoulder- everywhere.
Once his underwear was pulled to a certain point, it revealed the entirety of his length. The painful hardness of it made his cock stand up between your bodies. Before you climbed onto it, you admired it for a second. Taking your pointer finger, sliding it from the tip that pathetically dripped precum to the side of his cock, feeling the veins that were made even more prominent by the visceral desire he was feeling. He whined and cursed under his breath at the view of you taking in with such fascination how embarrassingly hard and twitchy he was. You moved back up to his glistening tip, tapping it repeatedly with the pad of your finger, making his hips jerk involuntarily because of how sensitive he was. “J-jesus christ,” he let out shakily, turning his head to the side like he was losing his mind(he was). You genuinely giggled, amused at all his little reactions.
His hands slid lower, rubbing the band of your underwear, asking silently but still not daring to move the piece of clothing. “Please, p-please, just-” he whispered like a prayer while looking up. “Aww, sweet baby,” you cooed. As much as you wanted to be your usual self, the level of vulnerability he was reaching and how twitchy he was were really getting in the way. You weren't heartless after all. “Use your words, love.” Ok, maybe a little.
As opposed to before, he nodded, understanding your command, and took a deep breath, gathering all his functioning brain cells to say his needs out loud for you. It was so painfully endearing to see his desperation to do well. “Just wanna be inside you, ma'am,” he whined, “feel you around me, please.” His lips were already red and puffy from all the kissing. “Good boy.” You reached down and pulled your underwear to the side. “Oh my fucking god,” he let out, all choked up from the sight, as he rubbing circles on your thighs. With your other hand, you wrapped it around his tip tightly and stroked down, making an embarrassingly large amount of precum ooze out of the poor man. He hissed at the tightness of your fist. Reaching up again to his tip, you angled it up and moved it to align yourself with him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck”, he started trembling even more out of anticipation as he felt his tip finally touch your wet slit, sliding a bit towards your clit, making the muscles on the back of your thighs twitch, then down to the entrance.
With slow movements and one hand on his shoulder, you sank down until his cock was halfway inside, making his jaw hang low. He gripped your hips tightly, “W-wait, I-” he squeezed his eyes shut, and you felt the muscles on his abdomen tighten. You smiled and hummed. “Just, just, I'm- it's a lot, just a lot,” he muttered out, “please, slow or I'll-” he kept interrupting himself to take breath heavily. “I'm already close, ma'am, please, I don't want to embarrass myself.” While he was saying that last part, you had started to sink down even further, excited to pull more reactions out of him. “No, please,” you started as you moved down, “go ahead,” you went down a bit more, “embarrass yourself for me, baby,” and you felt your pussy touch the hilt of his cock, now entirely in you. “Fuck” he let out a high-pitched curse, at the feeling and your audacious words. He couldn’t control his body as his hips jerked up, making his torso curl deliciously into you. The movement knocked you out of balance, and your hand landed on his abdomen, feeling the muscles there spasm as he tried desperately to control the urge to cum deep inside you while fucking up into you.
“Take a deep breath,” you ordered while your own brows were furrowed, trying to concentrate. He listened to you, of course, he did. You both kept eye contact as you took in deep inhales, your chests rising up and down. The gesture of tenderness and consideration made his heart swell; he thought you'd have kicked him out by now honestly. “I'm gonna start moving, now.” He nodded dumbly, still looking up at you like he was in a trance.
At first, you started by rocking your hips back and forth. His eyes stayed glued to the spot where you were connected and to the movements of your waist. “Fuck, so good, feels so good, ma'am,” he whined, voice cracking once every couple of words. You nodded and sped up your movements, now going up and down on his length. And he had length, alright. You felt your walls going up and then down, letting him stretch you out again. You moaned quietly, and he took the opportunity. “I'm making you feel good, ma'am, right?”
He was nervous about your answer, but what he didn't expect was for you to laugh in his face. “You aren't making me feel good, sweetheart, this cock is doing the job for you.” You finished with a moan of your own as you sped up your movements even more. If the euphoric feeling of you wrapped around him wasn't this strong, Hyunjin was sure he would have cried at your cruel words. But he knew you. He was sure you didn't know who he was, but he knew you, and frankly, this was the version of you he thought he would get all night, so really, he had no right to complain. Plus, it wasn't like you were lying.
Hyunjin let out a choked moan, his hips bucking up involuntarily as your words hit him like a punch to the gut. He could feel your walls clenching around him, squeezing his aching cock like a velvet vice. It was too much, too intense. He was going to embarrass himself, just like you wanted.
"F-fuck, please..." He gasped out, his voice ragged and desperate. His hands gripped your hips tighter, fingers digging into your soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises. He knew he should be gentle, should take this slow, but the pleasure was overwhelming, consuming him whole.
You started to move faster, bouncing on his cock. The wet, obscene sounds filled the room, mixing with your moans and his grunts and whimpers. Hyunjin could feel his orgasm building, his balls tightening as his release approached quickly.
"I'm... I'm close. Fuck, I can't... I'm going to..." He babbled incoherently, his words lost in the haze of lust and desire. His vision was blurring, his mind going blank. There was only you, only this moment. His eyes only opened once he felt your hand around his throat again.
Hyunjin's eyes shot open wide, his breath catching in his throat. His pulse jumped under your touch, his heart racing like a drum. He looked up at you, his gaze hazy and unfocused, but still filled with a deep, primal need.
"Y-you want me to embarrass myself, ma’am?" He whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his own heart. He knew you had noticed how choking affected him. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing against your palm. His eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of hesitation or doubt. But he found none. It was entertaining- seeing how quickly you could push him over the edge.
He whined, bit his lower lip, and he let a thick tear run down. You dipped your head towards his face, “Such a good boy.” You licked a stripe up his face, tasting the tear on his cheek. He knew he was at your mercy, completely under your control. Your hand around his throat was a reminder of that, a silent affirmation of the power you held over him. He had never felt so vulnerable, so exposed, and so alive.
With a final, desperate thrust of his hips, Hyunjin let go. His cock throbbed and pulsed inside you as he came, his hot seed spilling deep into your core. He cried out your name, a prayer and a curse all in one, as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him. His orgasms went on for so long that he whimpered as he felt his soul leave his body.
As the last tremors of his intense orgasm subsided, Hyunjin slowly came back to himself. He blinked up at you, his vision clearing, only to be hit by a wave of embarrassment and shame. He had come first, before making sure you were satisfied. The realization made his spent cock twitch weakly inside you.
"I... I'm so sorry," he stammered, his voice thick with remorse. He reached up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "I didn't mean to... I should have made you feel good first. I'm sorry, it just felt too good."
He looked down, unable to meet your eyes as a deep blush spread across his cheeks and down his neck. His hands fidgeted on your hips, squeezing gently as if seeking forgiveness.
"Please, let me make it up to you," he pleaded softly, making you let out a breathy giggle, "I want to prove that I can satisfy you, that I can be a good lover. I want to feel your pleasure, want to hear you scream my name, please.” He said all these things while his head had already dipped to lay apologetic wet kisses all over your neck.
With surprising intentionality, he slowly guided you off his cock that was still hard as a rock, hissing softly as the cool air hit his sensitive flesh. Once you were both free, he kissed you deeply and so heartbreakingly gently. “Get on all fours for me?” Even when he asked for something, it sounded like begging. ”Sure, baby, show me you can make me feel good.” You went into position, back arched, looking back at him.
Hyunjin's eyes darkened with renewed desire as he watched your slow movements. He licked his lips, his cock twitching at the erotic sight. You knew what you were doing, leaning your shoulders down, arching your back like a cat stretching.
He crawled behind you on his knees on the couch, his hands running reverently over your ass, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your left hip just above one of your cheeks, then kissed lower, then on the other side, before trailing his tongue along your spine. Reaching the nape of your neck, he nipped lightly at your skin, his teeth grazing your flesh. His hands slid around to your front, one cupping your breast while the other dipped between your thighs, finding your clit swollen and sensitive.
"Promise, I’ll make you feel so good," he murmured against your ear, his hot breath fanning over your skin. "I'm going to worship this body until you're shaking, take all that stress off you, pretty girl."
“Love the confidence you’ve gained, but if you don't fuck me right-”
“Yes, s-sorry, ma’am, I will,” he said, smiling despite himself.
He started to move, his cock sliding between your ass cheeks, the hard length slipping between them with ease. He rocked his hips, fucking your ass with his cock as his fingers worked your clit and teased your nipples as you whimpered.
He smiled, hearing your noises, and reached to push his cock down, towards your entrance. “Gonna push inside, okay, pretty girl?” jesus why was his tone getting you flustered? You nodded, biting your lip as you felt his tip nudge your clit again.
Hyunjin took that as his cue and pushed forward, the tip of his cock catching on your entrance. He paused for a moment, savoring the feeling of your heat, before slowly pushing inside. He had to go slowly, inch by inch, letting you adjust to his size from this new, deeper angle. Your walls stretched around him, hugging his cock tightly as he filled you up.
"Fuck, you feel tight and warm," he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. Once he was fully stuffed inside you, he paused, his hips pressed against your ass. He reached around to your front, finding your clit swollen and sensitive. He circled it with his fingers, rubbing the sensitive nub gently.
He started to move then, pulling out slowly until just the tip remained inside you, before pushing back in. He set a steady rhythm, his hips rocking against yours as he fucked you. "That's it, baby, take my cock-" he tried to be assertive, I promise. But his words were cut short when you clenched around him and stole the air from his lungs. "You're doing so well, fuck, taking me so deep.”
He sped up one hand on your hip, making you fuck him back, the other still on your clit, lathering it from all the juices that were sliding towards it and rubbing it so so lightly it burned your nerves, making you clench around his cock. Hyunjin let out a choked moan. His hips stuttered for a moment before he regained his rhythm, pounding into you with renewed vigor.
"Fuck, ma’am, you're so tight," he grunted, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hip as he pulled you back onto his cock. "So fucking perfect, like you were made for me." He could feel your arousal coating his fingers as he rubbed your clit, the slick sounds filling the room. He circled the sensitive nub, teasing you mercilessly, determined to make you fall apart on his cock first this time.
"That's it, baby, fuck me back," he encouraged, his voice low and rough with lust. "I wanna feel you cum around my cock, ma’am, prove to you this cock can make you feel so good."
His thrusts became more erratic, more desperate, as he chased his own release. He could feel it building, his balls tightening as the pleasure mounted. But he was determined to make you cum first, to prove that he could satisfy you and make you lose your mind as you could him.
He noticed you go quiet for a second. You had pulled one of the decorative pillows to hide your face in, and only your quiet, breathy moans could be heard. Your toes curled shamelessly, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix perfectly.
"Please, don't hold back," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "Let me hear you, let me hear how good I'm making you feel. I want everyone to hear I’m the one making you feel good."
He punctuated his words with a particularly hard thrust, his cock hitting deep, making you see stars. His fingers on your clit moved faster, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight, quick circles. He could feel your walls starting to flutter around him, knew you were close.
"Come on, ma’am, give in," he urged, ”Please, give in to me, let me feel you,” his voice strained with his own impending release. "Cum for me, I want to feel this perfect fucking pussy gripping my cock even tighter”, he kept babbling on. Taking his hand off your hip but continuing his mean deep thrusts, he reached forward and started stroking your hair. Running his fingers through it gently to coax your orgasm out of you. “Let go for me, ma’am, please, wanna feel you fall apart." You were trying to breathe heavily between your moans and his smooth voice, laced with this neediness of his, and his perfect cock hitting you just where you needed were really making it difficult for you. You were close, so close, it burned.
He could feel his own orgasm building, his cock throbbing inside you, but he held back. This time, he wanted to see, hear, and feel you crumble.
You couldn't hold back any longer. Hyunjin's words, his touch, the relentless pounding against her cervix - it was all too much. With a sharp cry, you came undone, your body convulsing with the force of her orgasm. You screamed his name, tearing it from your throat. Pussy clamped down around his cock, gripping him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you.
Hyunjin groaned, long and low, as he felt your pussy spasm around his cock. The sensation was incredible, your walls fluttering and milking his length as you came. He had to grit his teeth, fighting the urge to let go and join you in bliss.
"Thank you, ma’am, thank- oh fuck” he growled, his hips never faltering as he fucked you through your orgasm. "Fuck, I can feel you, fucking soak my cock with your cum.” he said, watching your pussy spasm around him, “I want to feel every fucking second of it."
He reached his hand again and pushed some of your hair away from your face. He wanted to see, wanted to watch the ecstasy on your face. He leaned down, kissing your shoulders and cheek as you panted, coming down from your orgasm. He was left high and dry since he’d basically edged himself to make you cum. But it didn’t matter to him; what was important was that you had cum first, and he’d lie if he said that didn’t give his ego at least a bit of a boost.
He let out a choked moan, though as he felt your ass fuck back onto him. “Can’t leave you like this,” you said with a smirk as you watched his face contour in pleasure. “Oh my fucking god,” he whined.
Hyunjin couldn't resist the temptation of your quivering body any longer. With a grunt, he flipped you both over, settling between your spread thighs. He looked down at you, his eyes dark with lust and adoration as he took in your flushed cheeks and heaving chest. You wrapped your legs around him, locking in place.
"Wrap your arms around me, ma’am," he commanded softly, his voice rough with desire. "I want to feel you, all of you, as I make you mine." Maybe you were too lost in the moment to reprimand him for saying that, maybe you did like that he said that- he’ll never know.
You eagerly complied, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. The new position allowed him to sink even deeper into you, his cock kissing your cervix with every thrust. You could feel every throbbing inch of him, stretching you, filling you completely, his chest against your chest. You kissed again like you hadn’t kissed in a million years- deep, slow, filthy.
He started to move, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm. He braced himself on his elbows, looking down at you as he fucked you. His eyes were locked onto yours, watching your every reaction, committing every expression to memory.
"I’m so fucking close," he murmured, his voice low and intimate. "Cum inside again, baby, fill me up." Oh hell no, the moment he heard those words, he knew he was a goner.
Hyunjin's eyes widened as he heard your words, a surge of possessive desire coursing through him. He couldn't hold back any longer, couldn't deny you or himself the pleasure.
"Fuck, ma’am, thank you," he groaned, his hips slamming into yours with renewed urgency. "I'm going to fill this pretty pussy to the brim, ma’am.”
He could feel his balls tightening, his cock throbbing and pulsing inside your tight heat. He was so close, teetering on the edge of ecstasy. Your words, your command, pushed him over.
His cock jerked and twitched as he came, his hot seed erupting from the tip and flooding your insides. He grunted and shuddered above you, his body going rigid as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over him. He whimpered, torturing himself through his orgasm with small, shallow thrusts.
He collapsed onto you, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he rode out the aftershocks of his pleasure. As the final shudders of his intense orgasm subsided, Hyunjin lifted his head to look at you. His eyes were glazed and unfocused. He could see the satisfaction etched on your face, the way your lips were curved in a soft, contented smile. He loved it- the feeling of doing what you wanted, of satisfying you, made him feel fulfilled to an extent that should concern him.
Slowly, almost reverently, he slid off you, his softening cock slipping out of your pussy with a gush of their combined fluids. But he didn't go far. Instead, he knelt and settled between your thighs, pushing them further apart to expose your dripping pussy to his gaze that trailed it hungrily.
Hyunjin looked up at you, his eyes locked onto yours as he leaned in close. He kissed the inside of your thighs, slowly licking and nipping at areas that made you twitch. He went higher and higher. His breath landed hot against your sensitive flesh, making you shiver and clench around nothing. He smiled at your reaction, "Let me clean you up, ma'am," he murmured, his voice low and rough with lingering desire. "I want to taste every inch of this pretty pussy, want to lick up every drop of our cum, clean you up like you deserve.”
And he did. But it was evident that he didn't do it to tease you or see you wither- he only wanted to service you, clean you up, thank you. His tongue, soft and gentle, licked a stripe up your slit, then glided down to prod at your entrance, tasting what leaked with a content hum. “Fuck, I'm so exhausted,” you said with a breathy laugh as you looked down at him. He looked up, blushing solely at the sight of your post-orgasm afterglow. “Just a bit more,” he interrupted the careful tracing of his tongue, “please,” he added as gentlemanly as ever.
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So after the fucking glorious sex you had that night, he slept with you for a couple of hours and by early sunrise you stirred awake. He woke up an hour later than you did. You ushered him out the door under the pretense of having plans(you didn't).
He didn't want to leave, obviously, but he also didn't want to be pushy about it. You weren't about to let him just hang around your house, so as not to feel as bad when he stumbled while putting his pants on and asked, “Can- could I get your number maybe?” You complied, rattling your phone number out as he almost dropped his phone trying to type it in
And a minute later, he went out the door.
●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●
Monday morning, you walked into the 8 am lecture you were presenting for Visual Culture. The little pep in your step didn't go unnoticed by the set of asymmetrical eyes that followed you when you walked in from the far seats of the lecture hall.
“Good morning, everyone,” you say steadfastly, putting your bag down onto your desk. You scanned the lecture hall and took a deep breath. “I hope everyone had a restful weekend.” When you said that, Hyunjin failed miserably to not smile ear-to-ear. “Today we are covering the topic of The Image as a Producer of Reality…”
You didn't know you had just slept with someone that you were currently giving a lecture to, and was your fellow university student. That's the part that had Hyunjin anxious. He selfishly hadn't told you when you had first started talking, so by the time things were heading in a more heated direction, he wasn't about to ruin everything. He knew you were a direct person, so your reaction when you learnt that would surely aim to punish him somehow. But maybe he'd like that.
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Author's note: #ovulation i have nothing to say for myself. But also thanks to this person who comments under every chapter of my series @ihateetoadmit and also wanted to be tagged for this post you're so sweet thank you so much!
tags: lee taemin x fem!reader // dom!reader x sub!taemin, smut, dom and sub dynamics, handjob, established relationship, begging, lots of kisses, light pain kink, subspace, power play, slight dacryphila, bondage, blindfold, lots of teasing, mommy kink, soft and cute ending
You gently open the door to your shared bedroom.
Everything is right as you left it. The room is dimly lit with the only source of light being the cozy warm led lights from under your bed and a few candles scattered around on the bedside table. You can still slightly smell the vanilla scent from your perfume. The bed doesn’t have sheets, as you thought it would be more convinient for them to be on the floor.
You shift your thoughts onto the king size bed in the middle of the room. On it, you see your greatest piece of art you’ve ever seen. Taemin is on his knees, legs wide open, with a white satin ribbon covering his eyes to act as a blindfold. His hands are tied up and placed over his head, while also being tied to the bedframe. Safe to say, you did the knots so nicely, he cannot move his hands and arms, so they wont get in your way. He is shirtless, with only a white ribbon around his neck, that has a little silver heart dangling from it. He also has on white, semi-skinny pants, that you’ll be taking off soon enough. You can see a slight bulge forming in his pants and his breath quickening as he hears you in the room. He tries to look at you, but the blindfold in unabling him to do so.
You stand in the doorway and watch him squirm and wiggle in his restraints, and you can’t help but chuckle at how needy he is. Earlier today, you were at the set of the music video making of „Famous”. When he was shooting the opening scene, he was tied by his hands up to the ceiling and the idea of this, has been planted in your head ever since. 30 minutes ago you prepared everything: tied him up, made sure he was comfortable with this, get him riled up and then left the room. You felt the need to tease him a bit, so he has been waiting for you in that room awaiting his fate, unable to touch himself or even move. Now, he is just a whimpering mess, unable to do anything, and that’s what makes this so fucking hot. You decided that it’s enough teasing for him and make your way over to the bed.
You’re dressed in a white, satin nightgown, matching him. It’s the one that goes only to the half of your thighs and making everything visible, when the angle is right. It drives him absolutely crazy.
You finally stand before the bed, before climbing onto it. He can sense you getting closer and he starts to wiggle even more, while whimpering something unaudible. Sitting before him, you finally grip his thighs and say in a low tone, not to startle him.
- Stop wiggling so much, youre okay. -you comfort him before whispering in his ear:
-Mmh… someone is needy for mommy, huh? – you chuckle lowly into his ear.
In response, you get a surprised gasp at the nickname you gave yourself, before him blushing so so so much and mumbling:
- Yes… yes, please… ah! Touch me, im begging you… I’ve been waiting so long… -you can hear how desperate he is.
You run your hand through his hair and then let it rest on his cheek, while you use the second one to drag your nail from his chin to the hem of his pants in a straight line through his body. He lets out a slutty moan and whimper from the little pain your action gave him. You hook your finger around his choker and pull him closer to kiss him. You swirl your tounge around his plush lips and ask for entry, which he greedily accepts. The kiss is getting more heated and you tug at his hair. When you two finally unstick yourself from eachother with a string of saliva still connecting you two, you start making your way down his body with sloppy kisses. You start at his earlobe, nibbling at it a little, which earns you another groan coming from him. Then, you go down and make a small hickey near his collarbone, which of course, he loves. You go down his chest and stop at the nipples. You take one of them into your mouth, swirling your tounge around the sensitive bud and take the second one between your fingers and pinch.
-Ahh!...ugh…please, more… -Taemin pants out. You can clearly see how hard he is. It almost looks painful. You decide to not waste any more time and swiftly take off his pants. There’s a big patch of precum on his boxers.
-You’re already this wet… all for me, pretty boy? -you say grinning at him.
-Yes mommy… all for you, i’m all yours… -you respond to him with a slap of his boxers waistband against his skin.
-Please fuck me already… I-I cant take it anymore…-he says with a shaky voice.
-Shh, baby… Let me take care of you already, hm? You’ve been such a good, patient boy. You deserve it. -you smirk and take off his boxers in a swift motion.
-C-can i please see you?
-Of course, sweetheart -you say softly.
You begin to untie the ribbon on his eyes and throw it across the room. He blinks a lot, looking around the room trying to take it all in, when he shifts his gaze to land on you. His breath hitches at the sight of you wearing his favourite piece of clothing and you chuckle. You remember you blindfolded him before he could see the setting of the room, so he had no idea you prepared all of the candles and lights.
As he’s still in awe, you snake your hand down to his dick and spread the precum all over it, acting as lube. You wrap your fingers around his lenght, placing your thumb over his slit and running it across agonizingly slow. He lets out a cry and you can see his glossy eyes watering from need. You finally began to lazily stroke his dick, causing Taemin’s hips to buck into your hand. You detach your hand leaving him panting and whining.
- Stop moving, or I won’t let you cum tonight. -You say with a stern tone.
You don’t let him finish his words before resuming your actions. Your speed increased with every moan coming from Taemin’s lips. He is now a moaning and mumbling mess. You look into his eyes with a look full of lust. When he feels you staring, he starts to now wiggle even more in his restraints now, and you can feel he’s close. Your free hand snakes up his torso and starts playing with his nipple, which you know drives him absolutely crazy.
-Oh fuck… [name] please don’t stop… ngh! I- I’m so close. -he whines and start to mumble praises.
You chuckle lowly and with your hands busy, you kiss him deeply. After a while, you detach yourself from his lips, just to make a hickey on his neck. It seems like it was his breaking point, because seconds later, he was coming with a loud moan of your name. He released himself all over his stomach and you gently make him come down from his high and try not to overstimulate him. Pretty, teary eyes looking at you like you were the Godess of love herself, reincarnated. Finally, you detach yourself from him and untie his hands from the bed. Next, you lay him down on a pillow and get a warm, soaked in water towel to clean him up. While you’re doing that you, ask him sweetly:
- Are you okay, baby? Was I too harsh?
While having his eyes closed, he responds:
-No sweetheart, you were perfect. -he smiles and then looks at you, looking like an angel with the afterglow.
You cannot resist and you climb over him just to place gentle and pure kisses all over his face. Once you finish cleaning him up and also the place, which consisted of you blowing out the candles and getting the sheets from the chair in the room, you turn off the lights and lay down next to him to cuddle. He gently puts the sheets over you two and places his arm around your waist while you bury yourself in the crook of his neck. You both drifted to sleep pretty quickly, and all happy about the night, that you’ll definietly never forget.
note from author: this is my first ever fic guys! and im so happy with how it turned out. I have another taemin oneshot in mind and im working on it right now lol i will post it soon (its also sub taemin 😈). Sorry if theres any mistakes, english is not my first language 😔.
⛓️ ONE PIECE men as types of subs | 18+ kink hcs ❤️🔥
⇢ aka what D/s dynamics make them hooked ♡
⛓️ FEATURED CHARACTERS. ace, buggy, koby, luffy, law, mihawk, sanji, shanks, smoker, sir crocodile, zoro
pairing: sub!OP men x dom!reader (but each scenario is completely different 😏)
💋 CONTENT. d/s dynamics but adjusted to the pirate world, pet play, brat taming, bondage, medical & impact play, service subbing ⚠️ WARNINGS: mdni, law’s hc = pain play so avoid it if you don’t like hard subs, for those uncomfortable w/ feminization skip the buggy part, pregnancy kink in mihawk’s scenario, if you’re new to this and prefer it sweet & comfy: ace’ gentle femdom hc is for you.
Sub!Pussy drunk!Needy!Beomgyu (TXT) x Dom!Afab!Reader
THEMES—nsfw ✧ a bit romantic ✧ and emo ✧ just a tiny bit toxic ✧ a bit nasty
WARNING—4.3k wc ✧ public sex (car by the beach) ✧ good boy & bratty!beom ✧ oral (f rec.) ✧ body worship (f rec.) ✧ teasing (f/m rec.) ✧ face-sitting (m rec.) ✧ praising ✧ light degradation (calling him dirty, your little slut etc) ✧ hickeys (f rec.) ✧ spitting (m rec.) ✧ hand job ✧ crying ✧ brief cum play ✧ cumming untouched ✧ hair pulling (m rec.) ✧ pet names (mommy, baby, little slut etc)
NOW PLAYING—SWEET / I THOUGHT YOU WANTED TO DANCE ✧ Tyler, the Creator ft Brent Faiyaz & Fana Hues
M.LISTS—txt ✧ latest updates ✧ read on wp
A/N. To sort out any possible confusion, this is what the interior of the car looks like; vintage, flat like a bed style. BUT imagine it's a roof less car🤟
You were sitting on the driver's seat with your right hand on the steering wheel, left hand up in the air, warm wind kissing your skin before you put it down to rest on the edge of the car door. He was laying across the passenger's seat with his head on your thighs, staring up at the sky. You were on your way to nowhere in particular. This was your definition of adventure. His smile was bright contrary to his past, his eyes were full of the hope of a child and his laugh was the sound of an angel. With his sock-clad feet on the edge of the door and his long, fluffy, soft hair on your exposed legs he lowly sang along to a song.
You were watching the road, he was watching the pineapple purple sky until his eyes were on you. Smirk grew on his face. God knows what was going through that mischievous mind of his.
You remembered his soft lips crafted by the most-detailed-and-in-love artist on the skin on your thighs. The kisses he left were so light, barely brushing against you. Your hand found its way to his hair, he looked up at you with those impure eyes as the kisses he placed got slightly rougher. He loved seeing your reactions to his touches, gaining your approval; the satisfaction of your pleasure. Insecure boy. And damn was he horny too. Or was he in love?
Maybe he just lived in the moment.
Who would have the idea of spontaneously driving to nowhere for no reason, taking off their shoes, resting their feet on the edge of a car driving in high speed to get fanned for free by Mother Nature, put their head on the driver's lap and start kissing their thighs?
Beomgyu.
That was the simple answer. Beomgyu and nobody else.
He was the kind of character you saw in films and wish you'd had the pleasure of acquainting yourself with in real life but you don't because those people came from someone's fantasy and were carefully written and too rare to find in real life. You were lucky to have met him. Your dear, sweet Beomgyu.
After some minutes, he turned his body completely and laid on his tummy so he could get easier access to your skin, instead of having to turn his neck to kiss. Wearing shorts today had its perks. Kisses were peppered with so much care as he put his hand on your left leg and caressed it lightly so it'd be occupied and get attention too. As each second passed by it got harder and harder to focus on the road. He was such a distraction and he knew it. He loved distracting you. He loved any attention you gave him really, whether it was direct words when you'd praise or degrade or just knowing he was present in your thoughts whenever he received a cute "I miss you" text during long work hours.
"Baby, what are you doing?"
After two extra passionate kisses he answered, "Loving you."
"I'm driving."
Kiss. "Yes." Kiss. "And?" Kiss.
"Can't you love me some other time?"
He looked at you. Kiss. "Impossible." Kiss. "I can't not love you." Kiss.
You put your hand on his cheek softly, "I love you too, Beomgyu." Looking at the road, you couldn't see him but you felt his cheek move into a smile against your palm upon hearing your words. You smiled back at him, taking a quick glance at him and detecting a strand of hair in his eyes. In a split second you brushed his hair away, before Beomgyu went back to kissing your thighs again. He had always been so affectionate towards you, showing how much he appreciates all of you: your mind, your face, your body — your everything. He was so good with his words, hands and lips. You loved all of him.
A slow Lana Del Rey song later his featherlight kisses grew deeper until he was sucking on your flesh, trying to create purple marks. "You're making hickeys? How juvenile."
He laughed at your comment. It was true. Last time he remembered he'd put effort into creating hickeys was back in high school. "Maybe, but I bet your thighs will be so pretty with hickeys on them," he went back to work, making sure to suck more harshly to emphasise his point.
You were starting to get wet. And it was hard concentrating on the road and trying not to look down at the pretty man's lips on your lap every minute. You were driving on an empty country road so, thankfully, nobody could witness this raw act of love. Five or six or — who knows? — that's how many hickeys Beomgyu had created already and he was not finished yet. He experimentally bit on your thigh, looking up at you to observe if you liked it. "Hmmm." His bite got a little bit harder, still looking at you. "A bit gentler, Baby," you patted his head. "Okey," he smiled cutely at your small action and nickname and went back to the same force as on the first bite. Fuck, you needed to get out of this car and fuck him soon or you would go crazy.
The sun had begun to set. 19:22. There was plenty of time until the sun was down and gone. The sky was still somewhat bright with colours of pink and blue. You wanted to watch this beautiful sunset with Beomgyu but he was busy with his face in your thighs. Your eyes were on the empty road, looking at the signs and trying to come up with where to go when you recognised a name you'd heard of before when talking with friends about a nice little beach trip — if you made a turn in a few kilometers, you would soon make it to a pretty and unknown beach. Perfect!
You looked down. So many hickeys scattered around only on your right thigh, the left one only being touched by his hand. You rested your hand on the back of his head, playing with his long locks, "You're so pretty." He mumbled a little thank you on your skin, back to kissing your thigh gently now.
It all felt so sweet and romantic somehow, his big hand massaging your left thigh, slowly moving towards the inner part, fingers ghosting teasingly on your naked skin. He was distracting the driver with his mouth and hands — how could he make that feel sweet and romantic to the point you almost forgot how irresponsible you were being? Almost. Your eyes weren't on him. Most of your attention was on the road and he was only getting a tiny fraction of the attention he craved so much. Because he needed all of your attention right now. Sure, he needed your hands stroking his hair but he also needed your smiling eyes on him and your sweet and mean whispers; eyes and mind full of him only.
Determined to get more of your attention, he moved his unholy fingers towards your pussy. "You're so dirty," the grip you had on his hair tightened and he whined. He would always do this, turn to being bratty if he didn't get enough attention from you. If a good boy wouldn't get all your love and touches at least a naughty boy was sure to get all your degrading words and oh so lovely punishments — and he enjoyed being your naughty boy as much as your good boy; he could be anyone and anything you wanted as long as it meant he was the sole object of your affection.
His whines were always so pretty and light, causing you to clench your pussy around nothing. It never failed to impress you how he whined and moaned whenever you were the one being pleasured and not him. He moved up a bit and kissed your shorts right above your clit. There was fabric hindering the full sensation but you still felt it a little, already so sensitive and wet from the teasing. He looked up at you. You had shorts on so it was a bit difficult to pleasure you the way he wanted to, but Beomgyu was creative and undid your zipper. As much as he wanted to pull down your shorts so he could properly eat you out — he wasn't that stupid and careless to actually do it when you were driving, right? — so you were curious where he was going with this but also nervous.
Nose pushing up your shirt so he could kiss the skin on your waist, naughty hand gliding under the shorts to feel your hip. There were no cars on the road — and there hadn't been for a while now — so you decided to tease him a bit back, put him in his place so he knows better than to completely ignore that you're driving and that he can't do everything he wants right now, he has to be patient and wait. You grabbed his chin and made him look up at you, looking back at him for a split second. "Open your mouth."
He did so even faster than you averted your gaze, waiting for your spit. "Aw, so eager now are we?" You said, still looking at the road.
"Please, look at me," he nodded and whined impatiently, mouth ready for your spit. He looked so pathetic, bedroom eyes and long, styled hair a bit fucked up from you gripping it. Touching your skin but not getting to feel your wetness, not getting to pleasure you was in a way teasing him too, his cock now hard and pink.
"You're so pretty, Baby." His mouth was still open but he almost looked like he smiled for a second.
You spat in his mouth fast, immediately looking back at the road. He swallowed it happily like always, no matter how humiliating and mean it was, especially since you didn't even look him in the eyes or let your saliva drip slowly into his mouth, much more intimate, like you usually would do. "Good boy."
"Thank you, Mommy," he went back to kissing your waist, nose under your shirt, eyes looking up at you. Your right hand went back to resting on his head, threading through his long hair occasionally. "Look at me, please." There was something about you spitting in his mouth that always turned him so pathetic and shameless about his neediness — if you wouldn't judge him for swallowing your spit then he could express himself sexually to the fullest.
"As much as I want to, I can't, Baby. I'm driving," you took a quick glance down at him. His eyes were so glossy, almost like they would fill with tears at any second. You were so distracted by him but you were still aware enough to only look at him for a maximum of two seconds at a time. Although you were driving below the speed limit and hadn't seen another car in the past half hour you didn't want to risk anything.
He whined at that, causing you to smile. Soon it would be the opposite. His hand went under you shorts again, moving down your hip and to your lower stomach. You had a feeling you knew where this was going. Spitting didn't help slow him down and learn to be patient. No, spitting so meanly in his gaping mouth was the first time he'd had almost your full attention during the whole car ride so he had to continue misbehaving so you would humiliate him some more, giving him more and more of your attention. Sweet, stupid, sexy Beomgyu was something else.
His long fingers went lower until they reached your slit, happy now. "Baby—" Then, somehow, under your tight shorts he managed to move your underwear to the side so he could slip his long, thick middle finger in you. "Hm?" he mumbled against your waist, mind half listening to you and half inside your pussy, eyes rolled back like it was his dick in your pussy and not just his finger. Fuck. You had to find a way to get off the road but you were not very familiar with this road or even this part of the country — but like said before, this adventure had no directions or map.
"Are you this desperate, slut?"
He pulled his hand out to stick his wet finger in his mouth, licking, savouring the little taste he got of your pussy and mumbling an 'mhm'. He wanted more. He didn't just want to suck on his finger. He wanted your pussy on his face, wetness on his tongue and all over his face.
"Please, look at me, Mommy," he mumbled like a slut, sticking his pussy wet finger inside you to lick your sweetness again, eyes never leaving yours, "Need your pussy."
"You have to wait, little slut," you soothed him with your hand on his cheek.
He felt like crying. He needed you to stop the car somewhere; anywhere, he didn't care if he had to lay on the cold evening sand on the beach that would get all over his clothes and hair or, fuck, he would even be ok in the woods next to a camp site with German hikers as an audience as long as you would sit on his face. He needed you and your attention now. His dick was leaking pre-cum and you had only touched his face and hair so far.
"Please, Mommy," he kissed your stomach, middle finger deep inside you.
"Baby, wait, be patient," you were struggling too. Maybe you should just say fuck it and drive across everything in your way until you reach the beach so you can park the car and then park your pussy on his face? (Obviously no, be a responsible driver!!)
He wasn't satisfied with your response, you didn't sound anywhere near as needy or bothered as he was — your eyes didn't even leave the road for a second to look at the man whose face was on your lap — so he decided to take matters in his own hands and began to finger you deeply, easily adding a second finger with how wet you were.
"Fuck, baby!" you moaned, grabbing his hair and arching your back, eyes still on the road.
He took the opportunity and, with the help of his unoccupied hand, pulled down your shorts mid-thigh, making you shiver at the cold you felt as your wet underwear was exposed to the air. He looked up and blushed when he saw you already looking at him with your needy eyes. You were looking at him! His lips moved down your stomach and lower until he reached your underwear-covered pussy, placing a big kiss on your clit. You arched your back again, the sensation was so much greater now that only a thin fabric was between you.
Moaning, you looked at the road and saw a sign that told you there was a parking nearby in 800 meters. Fucking finally! He began kitty licking you and at this point you were so sensitive and needy that you had to pull him up by his hair, much to his dismay as he whined and his eyes filled with tears. "Why?"
"Baby, I found parking."
"Oh! Fucking finally!" As if a switch was flipped, his frown turned into a smile, a tear escaping his eye. He leaned into your touch as you brushed the tear away from his cheek.
You slowed down and turned the car into the parking lot, which was just grass with faded sprayed parking lines, miraculously deserted. He started kitty licking you over your underwear again. You moaned, grabbing his hair, "Fuck, Beomie, can't you wait for a little until I've parked? You're really that needy?" "Yes."
You decided to park the furthest away, turned towards the dead beach so you could have a view of the sunset and ocean — and the yellow, orange, red and pinks of the sky reflected on Beomgyu's pretty face, dirt-colored eyes twinkling like stars. "Baby, fuck, slow down," you had to pull him off your pussy.
"I can't," he took this opportunity to fully pull off your shorts to discard them to the back. "You didn't give me any attention when I just wanted to love you."
You kissed his pout, "You will have all my attention now, Baby."
The pout turned into a smile. "Thank you, Mommy." He pulled your right leg up, positioning his face in your pussy, dropping your thigh on top of his neck. His tongue immediately went to work, kissing all over your pussy, underwear still on. He always liked eating you out with your underwear on first so he felt more rewarded when they were off and he could taste, smell and feel your pussy so much more.
But you were having none of that, pussy clenching around nothing, aching at this point. "Stop teasing me and eat me out properly," you pulled your underwear to the side, grabbing his hair to push him more into you. He was looking at you and you could see the smile in his eyes, content he had your eyes on him and your pussy on his tongue. You had been teased and turned on so much already that you knew it would only take a minute or two of his talented tongue to cum. He too could sense you were near, hearing your gasps and moans, feeling your back arching, looking up at your eyes. His hands were on your thigh and boob, touching you the way he knew you liked it. The way his hand moved up your thigh to grab your butt never failed to make you feel hot.
"Choke me with your thighs, please?"
"If my slut wishes it," you smiled at him, flexing your thighs around him a little, not sure how much he could handle yet. Hair matted on his forehead, tears filling his high eyes, hands grabbing your skin, moaning against your pussy, and the colours of the sky on him. You didn't know it yet, focused on the pretty view that was Beomgyu, but he was leaking so much pre-cum there was a stain on his pants from the sweet familiar taste of you, seeing you in pleasure along with the pineapple purple sky sunset behind you.
"Fuck, you're doing so good for me, Baby. Your mouth was made to eat my pussy, wasn't it?" He nodded, mouth still against your pussy, tears flowing by now. It was true. He eats it almost everyday, sometimes he'll lazily lap at your pussy under the sheets in the morning, sometimes in the shower if you'll let him (yes, he can do that), sometimes when you're watching a boring movie he will lay on his back on the sofa and ask you to sit on his face, sometimes he'll get on his knees as soon as you open the door to your home after a double date because he's jealous some other guy made you laugh a lot, sometimes when you're waiting for noodles to cook on the stove he'll give you puppy eyes so you'll let him eat you out on the countertop — fuck, sometimes when he's bored he'll randomly get on his knees in front of you and beg you to please let him have a taste. Safe to say he has learned every little trick to please you and make you cum in a few minutes just by eating your pussy. And he loves it.
"Mhm, you're such a good boy for me, my sweet little pussy hungry slut," you pouted at him condescendingly; he moaned at the mean praise, hips twitching up. You looked down at him, there was a huge wet stain on the front of his pants. "Awww, Baby, you're so wet just from my pussy. I should let you cum on it for being such a good slut, right?" His moans on your pussy were so desperate and sent sweet, sweet vibrations that tipped you over the edge, thighs shaking around his neck, "Fuck, I'm cumming, Baby." He slowed down, eating your cum, helping you calm down from the intense orgasm, not overstimulating you. But after a while it became too much, your pussy way too sensitive for his never ending kitty licking, so you opened your thighs and pushed his head away.
"You did so well for me, Beomie," smiling, you patted his head softly, seeing the sunset shine in his pretty eyes, your cum glistening all over his lower face, tears dried, lips pulled into a smile after he was finished licking them clean. You pulled him up from between your thighs to give him a kiss on his forehead after pushing some damp hair away, "You want to get your reward now, Baby?" He gulped, still, not answering your question. "Baby... Don't tell me you already came—" you pulled down his pants to have your suspicions confirmed; he did, in fact, cum untouched. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to cum without your permission, and I really wanted to hold back so I could cum on your pussy when you told me, but it felt so good to have your attention and taste you and-and— I couldn't control it. I'm so sorry," he cried, apologizing profusely.
You held him in your arms, fingers carding through his long, beautiful hair, "Beomie, it's okay, no need to say sorry. I'm very flattered actually. Besides your pretty mouth did so well for me that I can't be mad at you. You were such a good boy." He hummed against you, pecking your neck every now and then. After he calmed down, he pulled back to look at you; tears on his cheeks and half of the sun in his eyes. You dried his tears with your fingers and kissed him on his lips, calling him your good boy. The look in his eyes wasn't sad anymore. He gulped again before trying to give you his best puppy eyes, kissing the back of your hands. You knew he wanted something whenever he acted this clingy and cute, "Yes, Baby?"
"C-Can... Can I still cum on your pussy?"
You giggled, grabbing his cock, "You're hard again, this fast?" He hid his face with an arm, flustered, "Mhm. You kept calling me your good b-boy." "Awww my cute little slut. Getting hard from being called a good boy?" you giggled because although this was dirty, it was still somehow cute in a way how he got hard from your praise alone. He shook his head, face still hidden by his arm, "Your good boy." You smiled. "Mmm, Baby. You really are my good boy?" He nodded. You looked down at his dick, it was hard, pink and twitching, dirty with his previous cum. "Then show me your face, I don't want you hiding from me." His dick twitched and did as told. "Good boy." He shook his head, "I-I'm Mommy's good boy." He was always so cute and malleable whenever he came untouched and heard those sweet praises that tickled his soul. You kissed his shoulder as a reward. "Yes, mine. Now let me lay down so you can sit between my legs." "Oh yes." He did as told, hands behind his back without being told — he knew how you wanted him. You pulled him down to you momentarily to hold his cheeks and give him a quick kiss, both of you smiling into it. "I love you so much." "I love you more."
His pink dick was leaking pre-cum already. "My sweet boy won't cum without my permission again, right?" He whined, embarrassed, "I won't, Mommy, but please stop teasing." You giggled, he will cum any moment now you already know especially since he's so sensitive from his orgasm. Holding his dick confirmed your suspicions, Beomgyu moaning and dick twitching at your small touch. "Please, please, please," he muttered, tears already in his eyes, "Please, Mommy, I wanna cum on your pussy, please?" There was something about cumming on your pussy that drove him crazy, maybe it was because he would get an excuse to lick your pussy clean off him. "Not yet, Babyboy. I wanna play with you a bit first," you started moving your hand up and down on his cock, his loud moans following immediately after. He was struggling, biting his lower lip, pinching his arms behind his back, not looking at your naked pussy because he didn't want to cum without your permission again. "P-Please, Mommy. Ngh— I've been a good boy for you, please can I cum?" "Oh have you? Weren't you a bad boy the whole drive? And then you even came without Mommy's permission, right?"
He whined, tears running down his eyes again. "Please, Mommy, I'm so sorry I just wanted your attention. I-I always wanna please you and have your attention. Wan' be your personal toy." You smirked, going faster, "Yes, you are my little toy. So pretty and dirty for me." "Yes, yes, always. I— Fuck, I'm cumming, Mommy. Please, let me cum on your pussy, Mommy," he cried, looking at you with his slutty eyes. He knew how to get to you; how to look so sexy for you that you just wanted to reward him. "You can cum, my good b—" "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck— Thank you, Mommy." His eyes rolled back as white ropes of warm cum covered your pussy. "You did so well for me, waiting for my permission," you hugged him as he came down from his high, kissing his cheeks. "Really?" He pouted, fishing for more praises, which you knew and granted him, "Yes, really. My good boy." You kissed his pout, "Now clean up your mess." He smiled.
You and I, we fell in love
I ain't read the signs, ain't know what it was
But God gotta know he might have peaked when he made you
The cosmos' only mistake is what they named you (what that mean?)
They should call you sugar, you're so sweet
Even if
You left me out here stranded
My feelings wouldn't change a bit
My heart beats triple time when I see you
Somethin' I can't control
If I compared you, the sun is a stand-in (sun)
You got a smile that could light up a planet (smile) yeah (oh, oh)
And you look so good (yeah)
And you smell so good (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
And you taste so good (yeah)
And you're so, so good (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
You're the sweetest (yeah)
Yeah, you are, ha-ha
Sweet like, like motherfuckin' brown sugar sweet potatoes (are you ready?)
WARNING—jealousy ✧ semi-public masturbation (car, m) ✧ spanking (m!r) ✧ face sitting (f) ✧ degrading ✧ praising ✧ piv ✧ riding ✧ nipple play (f!r) ✧ hair pulling (m!r) ✧ name-calling ✧ pet names (Love, Baby, Mommy) ✧ awkward encounter with Yeonjun from TXT
THEMES—smut ✧ established relationship ✧ fluffy ✧ jealousy ✧ good boy turned bad
NOW PLAYING —I Wanna Be Yours ✧ Arctic Monkeys
A/N. I got some sweet messages of encouragement from readers on both wattpad and tumblr after my last update: thank you! Your words and support motivated me to post this sooner<3
The mall was packed with people. After Valentines some stores had crazy sales on winter collections since the last major winter holiday was over and the desperation to empty the racks full of winter clothes before it was too late was at its highest point. So, you and your valentine Sunghoon decided to go to the mall. Although you knew the winter leftovers weren't always the prettiest and that you likely wouldn't end up purchasing anything, you thought it would be fun to try on some clothes and just walk and talk since you hadn't spent much time together since Valentine's Day. Also, who knows, you might actually find something nice!
"Baby, you're so sweet," you whispered into Sunghoon's ear, kissing his temple after he greeted you with two hot lattes, one matcha and one caramel — he always picked those two drinks partly for the taste, caffeine and warmth but also so when the two of you were halfway finished you could switch cups.
"Everything for you, Love," he gave you the matcha latte, blushing at your little affection since you were in a very public setting. The only type of physical touch he felt comfortable initiating in front of others was holding your hand or a quick hug, otherwise it was you giving him pecks on his cheek, sitting on his lap or petting his head, which he loved no matter how embarrassed he felt in the moment — your attention and affection is precious to him.
"Thank you," you took a sip of the matcha, content worth the content and also because the cup was warming up your cold hands, but you grabbed his hand anyway, preferring that source of warmth.
He knew his ears were probably red now. He loved it when your cold hand stole the warmth from his.
You swung your hands a little as you walked to your favorite boutique, hoping to find something nice on sale or just walk around and look at different clothes together. But before you entered you were surprised to hear your name. Immediately you recognised the voice but Sunghoon was caught off guard. A foreign voice. A happy voice. A man's voice. The two of you turned around and spotted a man who looked like he belonged in a Kdrama. Sunghoon wished he hadn't been distracted by your touch as you led him to the boutique and that he instead dragged you two to a hot pot restaurant on the opposite side of the mall so you wouldn't have run into this perfect man but it was too late.
The demon with a picture perfect smile walked up with open arms to you two. Or to you and not Sunghoon to be specific. The handsome man hugged you in front of Sunghoon. His ears didn't turn pink like Sunghoon's would when he gave you a two second hug in public. And omg you hugged this man back!
He pulled the rude, good-looking male stranger by his coat, gently separating the two of you.
"Who are you, again?" Sunghoon asked, very confused as to why a male he doesn't know would feel comfortable hugging his girlfriend right in front of his face.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I got a little carried away when I saw her," the guy said with a grin, which made Sunghoon clench the fist that was once in your hand.
"My name's Yeonjun. ____ and I have known each other for more than six years now, right?" He said, looking at you, not Sunghoon.
"Yeah, I think it's been five, six years already. Time goes by so fast!"
Sunghoon gulped. He hadn't even known you for half that time.
"And we haven't seen each other in so long!" the so-called Yeonjun went to your side, entering the boutique together. Sunghoon felt his mouth go dry at how Yeonjun referred to the two of you as "we" and walked side by side with you so naturally. This fucking doucheb—
"Yeonjun, this is my boyfriend, Sunghoon," you made sure to introduce them to each other since Yeonjun got too excited and talked too much too fast and forgot to ask for your boyfriend's name (which was very much his character).
"Nice to meet you, Sunghoon," Yeonjun held his hand in front of you to shake Sunghoon's hand.
But your otherwise sweet, polite boyfriend pretended like he didn't see the waiting hand, "Likewise," holding your hand instead.
This was supposed to be his day with you, not handsome Yeonjun's day with you. You were supposed to walk slowly, look around for nothing in particular, arms hooked together (your doing), sipping your lattes until they were half empty so you could switch cups!
The thing is, the two of you were right by the entrance to this boutique heading inside when Yeonjun came so its not like you could pretend you were going to another store to get out of this situation or you would seem rude for blowing him off for no reason, especially since he's been your friend of six years. Or have you two been a thing? Was Yeonjun your friend as in you were in the same class at uni or your friend as in ex who you ended on extremely good terms with or — even worse — was he a "right person, wrong time" type of "friend"? No. He's overthinking it. Surely, you would've told him about all your exes already and Yeonjun's name had never been mentioned. Besides you were a smart person, you wouldn't get into a relationship with Sunghoon if you had feelings for or unfinished business with Yeonjun or anyone else.
But the hug. The way Yeonjun showed you physical touch so easily, no sign of insecurity or blushing. Your comfortable body language, as if you've hugged Yeonjun hundreds of times before.
"Do you remember this?" Yeonjun said, holding up a small pink purse.
"Yes, I do remember," you laughed at the memory.
"What?" Sunghoon looked so lost. You two had inside jokes together!
"After you won a bet, I told you I'd buy you a pink purse one day."
"Yeah. We were stressed, broke kids back then," you smiled at the reminiscence. You had gotten a higher score on a test so Yeonjun had promised to buy you whatever you wanted and the first thing you could think of at that time was a pink purse. Since he lost the bet during high school, you didn't expect him to buy it since he didn't have a lot of money and also because it was better to save whatever money he had. But high school was long gone and you hadn't thought of the purse since but Yeonjun remembered.
"Now I have the money to do so..." he continued.
"I already got that same exact purse for her," Sunghoon interrupted before Yeonjun went too far, noticing that was the only pink purse in this section so Yeonjun wouldn't be so rude as to suggest buying another pink purse with another design. Of course, Sunghoon didn't want a handsome man to buy his girlfriend a purse that would remind her of him each time she looked at it — unless that handsome man was Sunghoon, of course.
You looked at Sunghoon after he told the lie, but didn't say anything because he'd also do the same for you if he knew you told a lie to or kept a secret from someone.
"Really? You got her a 30€ purse?"
Now that was rude.
"Well, I really wanted this purse, so the price doesn't really matter," you said, embarrassed your friend would say that to your boyfriend.
"Of course! Of course! If you wanted the purse," Yeonjun tried to save the situation, realizing what he sounded like. He sent a friendly smile at the two of you and started looking through a rail of T-shirts.
After a few minutes of trying to find something that was cute on the sale rack, you called your friend over. "This one would look really good on you, Junnie," you held up a white dress shirt in silk that you found on 30% sale.
"You think so?"
"Yeah, I think you pull off this kind of aesthetic well."
Hm, how do I get her to only look at me? How do I get her to only look at me? How do I get her to only look at-
Sunghoon walked up to the two of you, "Do you wanna switch cups, Love? I know you love caramel latte and it will get cold soon," he held the cup in front of your lips so you could taste it. He was right, you do love caramel latte and it tastes so much better warm. You smiled at him. The way he showed affection without having to touch, but just remembering any little fact about you and being caring always made your heart melt. You lifted the matcha latte cup to his lips, making him taste too and he did, but not without blushing. For a moment he forgot you were in public and he just wanted to lay down, tangle your legs and arms together and with the hot drinks getting cold on the table as a rom-com played in the background forgotten as you just looked at each other and talked and kissed—
"Guys, do you have anything to try on?" Yeonjun interrupted your little moment.
Then you switched cups before you looked over at Yeonjun. "I can't find anything I like for now—"
"Then you can come and rate this shirt on me. See if you were right that I would look good in it?"
Oh no. Sunghoon did not like this. He had to do something fast.
"Look, Love! You would pull off this dress so well," he half-yelled to get your attention and held up the first thing he in arms reach, blushing at both the dress and at the double entendre.
Your gaze turned to your boyfriend but your eyes visibly went from curious to a bit mad. It was a tight, red dress with a deep cleavage — and it was inappropriate for Sunghoon to suggest trying on or buying this kind of clothes in front of someone else, especially a friend you hadn't seen in a long time. But the fact that it had a lace bra under it, making it look like lingerie, was humiliating. You turned red. Not from blushing, but from fuming. It was very odd of your boyfriend to do that; the guy who blushed when you kissed his cheek at a restaurant when you were sitting alone held up this sexy dress and suggested you try on or buy it in front of Yeonjun.
Yeonjun turned away, awkward, "I'm just gonna go...try this on."
"What was that?" You questioned sternly.
"What was what?" Sunghoon gulped, still holding the dress.
You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, "Are you trying to get punished?"
He remained quiet, tall but so small in your presence.
"Cat got your tongue? Hm? Talk, you didn't have a problem being loud just a minute ago," you whispered so others — especially Yeonjun — wouldn't hear you.
The sound of a door creaking was heard, which made you retreat your hand immediately and turn around.
"How does it look?" Yeonjun asked and scratched his neck as he showed off the white dress shirt you suggested.
"My eye was right. You should buy it," you gave him a thumbs up. Sunghoon did not like this.
"Thank y-"
"I wanna try it on too," Sunghoon interrupted him.
"Oh, sure, I can give it to you in a minute."
"Actually, I think I need a bigger size because of my shoulders so I'll just grab a fresh one." It was Sunghoon's turn to be rude.
He felt a minor adrenaline rush — if that even existed — as he power walked to the part of the clothing zoo where he remembered you had told Yeonjun to try on a shirt you found. At this point would do anything to keep your eyes on him instead of that guy. He hurried into the changing room, changing in just a minute and opened the door.
Your eyes were definitely on him. He had styled the shirt a bit differently than Yeonjun, choosing to keep the first four buttons undone, way sexier than the usual one or two undone buttons. The pure white silk complemented his skin, making him ironically look like an angel.
"You look really, really good, Baby."
It was a modest compliment, since you had company, but Sunghoon already knew what you were thinking as you eyed him up and down.
"It looked better on me though," Yeonjun said in a jokingly manner.
"No, I look better in it," Sunghoon said, "Right, Mommy?"
It slipped out. He didn't mean to say that. In fact, he's never called you that before.
Yeonjun gulped and stood up to go, "I'm gonna go pay for this real quick."
"You're gonna regret that," you said with a voice that was too calm.
"What you gonna do about it, Mommy?" Might as well go along with this brat thing.
"Guys, something came up so I gotta go. I just wanted to say bye!" Yeonjun appeared with a bag and an awkward smile.
"Bye," you said, hugging him farewell.
some minutes later.
After throwing the almost empty caramel latte in the trash, you slammed the door of the car (not hard, but a little louder than normal). Sunghoon had embarrassed you in front of an old friend, your angel acting like a brat. And he was just glad he had your attention.
"Love~"
You started the engine and took off, completely ignoring his cute calling.
"Mommy," he leaned over to your side, putting his face in your boobs.
"Brat," you pressed your hand harshly on his dick. He was hard. "You really got hard from acting like a desperate slut in public?"
"Mhm. More, Mommy," he whimpered in your ear.
"Slut," you pushed his face away with the hand that was giving him pleasure just now, placing his head gently onto the neck rest (still worried for him even when you were mad).
He smirked, ears red at the contrast of your words and pushing and then kindness. He needed more. So much more. Any little attention you had given to Yeonjun today, he needed that attention tripled. He would've acted like a brat much sooner today if he knew you would've taken him home to punish him.
With his eyes on you he undid his pants. He wanted to push the limit. You looked away from the road for a split second to catch a glimpse of what your boyfriend was up to, "What do you think you're doing?"
"Being a needy whore," he replied and slid his hand inside the pants.
"Touching yourself without my permission two minutes away from home? You're begging to be punished like the bitch you are," you chuckled and sped up.
"Yes, Mommy," he moaned both as an answer to your statement and because of the pleasure his hand was giving. Apparently he loved calling you that.
"Well, you're gonna get it soon, slut," you replied as you were parking.
At that, he went even faster with his hand to get on your nerves even more. And then you were parked. He went for the door in a second, excited for what was about to happen. You got out too and unlocked the door to your place. A slam was heard after you got in. Shoes were taken off and thrown to the side. Sunghoon took your jacket off for you. "Did I say you could touch me?"
Pink spread across his cheeks as he responded with a no, shy all of a sudden. You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt just like at the mall and dragged him to your bedroom. He almost couldn't keep up with your steps. Inside the bedroom you pushed him to the wall, a moan slipping out. You tugged his hair and pulled his head back harshly. "Pants off. Now."
They were on the floor in seconds. "No underwear? You took them off when you were trying on your shirt? Slut," you smirked and sat down on the foot of the bed in front of him.
"You know your place." He got over her lap, flashing his ass for her to admire. He had been doing weighted Romanian split squats at the gym lately. This position on your lap was one he had been in before. But never for acting out in public or calling you something inappropriate in front of a friend.
Your warm hand started rubbing his skin smoothly to prepare for punishment and joy. "Do you remember your safeword?"
"Pear."
"Do you remember my safeword?"
"Pineapple."
"Good. Count, if you don't we'll start over again. Understood, slut?"
"Yes, Mommy," he said with anticipation clear in his tone. He finally had all your attention on him — and your hands on him as well. This is exactly how he wanted the day to go: spend quality time together.
"How many do you deserve?" You asked to test him.
"Uhm... Ten?" He asked, playing dumb.
"Fifteen it is. Twenty if you misbehave," you said and gave him a harsh spank.
"One," he whimpered out, surprised.
The next one was harder.
"Two," he said under his breath.
"Can't hear you, princess," you slapped his ass cheek rougher.
"Three," he yelled out.
He kept his ground, but you wanted to wreck him for how he acted today — if he wanted to be hurt or just go he should've told you and not been a slut — so you hit harder, if possible.
"F-Four," he stuttered in defeat.
You smirked and brought your left hand to his hair, pulling it.
Your right hand blew him with the same strength as before.
"F-Five," he moaned from the beautiful pain.
Spank!
"Fuck! Six!" He cursed.
"Watch your language," you warned and raised your hand up higher and when it came in contact with his skin it made the loudest hitsound.
"S-Seven. So-So-"
Spank!
"-Sorry! Eight," he exclaimed in a moan so high pitched he was embarrassed.
Spank!
"Ah, nine," he moaned loud enough for the neighbours to be awkward around you next time you see them.
Spank!
"Ten. Mommy, please," he cried out of desperation, not sure if he wanted a break or more.
You were only halfway there, yet his dick already had pre-cum leaking out on your jeans.
"Please what?" You asked and delivered a harder one, knowing exactly what he needed.
"E-Eleven. Mommy, touch me, please," he begged pathetically, knowing you would deny him.
The spank got harder at that.
"Twe-elve," he whined like the bitch he was.
You pulled his head back and looked him in the eyes, "Be a good slut and you might get rewarded"
"Thank you, Mommy."
You let his head go back to rest on the bed (gently just like you'd done in the car) and then spanked him harder to see how much he could take.
"Thirteen," he called out.
His ass cheeks were as pink as his cheeks when you greeted him with a kiss to his temple at the mall.
Spank!
"Fo-Fourteen. Mommy!"
His dick stung at this point. He needed you to touch him so damn much.
Spank!
"F-Fifteen," he moaned, crushed.
He closed his eyes harder, waiting for the next spank.
To his surprise, you just touched his ass softly, grabbing here and there, "You were a good slut for me."
"Thank you, Mommy," his ears got pink at how gentle you were being, petting his hair, combing your fingers through it.
"As a reward you get my cum and if you're good enough you'll get to cum too," you whispered as you nibbled on my ear.
"Thank you, Mommy."
You pulled him off your lap, standing up and giving a peck to his forehead before softly pushing him back on the bed. You let your jeans fall down to the floor to be long forgotten. Sunghoon licked his lips at the sight of you in black panties. They were see-through! He was so distracted and suddenly the panties were gone and you were sitting on his waist.
"Please, Mommy, sit on me," he pleaded with a made-up sweet voice, wanting to be on your good side so you wouldn't tease him.
"How much do you want it?" You moved some hair away from his eyes, resting your hand on his jaw.
"So much. Please, please, sit on my face. I want to be good for you now, please," he made sure to look you in the eye with a small pout.
"I know you got jealous and acted like a slut because you wanted my attention, but you know I like good boys more, right?" You mock pouted at him.
He nodded fast, "I know. I'm so sorry, Mommy. Let me prove I'm your good boy. Please?"
"Since you begged so cutely...prove it to me," you said before you moved up until your pussy was above his face.
He eagerly stuck out his tongue and put in the tip between you folds to tease you a little and to prepare for what was coming.
"You think you're gonna make me cum this way, bitch?"
His tongue slipped in further and faster to taste your delicious juices. You arched your back slightly at the stimulation, he smiled against you and started nudging his nose gently against your clit. Your hands found their place behind you, on his stomach. You weren't satisfied with the feeling of fabric, so grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted it up so you could touch the skin and small curves of his abs. Sunghoon definitely had more muscles than that guy. His hands went to your butt and, before you protested, they pushed you further down on his face and so his tongue went even deeper.
"Desperate for Mommy's cum?" You asked and grasped a handful amount of his wet hair.
He hummed against your pussy, sending vibrations; he was determined to make you cum so good you'd let him cum too. You yanked his hair slightly and he arched his back a little. To show his appreciation he kissed on your clit. Whimpers started spilling from your mouth and excitement and pride started filling him. Both his face and cock were glistening with pleasure and neediness.
"I'm gonna cum."
He nodded and dove in deeper and licked you like he had been thirsty for you his whole life. You pressed herself lower on him, moaning. He held your thighs as they were beginning to shake. His lips sucked on your clit as if it were your nipple and you finally blessed him with your tasty cum. He licked and slurped till there was nothing left to swallow.
"What do you say now?" You asked as you sat back on his chest, catching your breath.
"You're delicious- I mean, thank you, Mommy."
You chuckled and continued with a question, "Who deserves rewards?"
"Good boys," he replied happily.
"Are you a good boy?"
"Yes, Mommy."
"Yes, you are. Take this off," you said and tugged his shirt, "That shirt from today looked better on you anyway."
He took it off as soon as you told him to. His dick was still standing proud, red from the pleasure and resistance.
"Please, Mommy, sit."
"You think I'm going to let your slutty dick inside me just like that? Go get a condom now."
He hurried to his bag, stark naked in the sunlight from the window. But he didn't care, he just wanted to be inside Mommy. When he got back you had already gotten nude — and that was enough for him to open the condom, put it on and throwing himself on the bed in seconds.
"Don't get too comfortable, sit up," you ordered him as you crawled onto the bed.
He obeyed and rested against the headboard, attention on you. You continued crawling until you sat on his lap.
"Your thighs are so thick and sexy."
"Thank you," he blushed because he'd been going to the gym consistently and your validation made him proud.
"Feels like a sin to make them tremble, but oh well."
You lowered yourself on him until long moans littered the air, both of you sensitive; you from a little overstimulation right after cumming and him from ignoring his pink dick for so long. Without preparation or warning, you bounced up and down on him. He wondered where you get the stamina to do bounce on his dick so well.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he cried out.
He saw your boobs bouncing too and just had to start sucking on one of them, hand palming the other one. You gasped. He was very good with his mouth. Your hips moved faster and Sunghoon couldn't keep his moans inside as he switched his mouth to the other boob. He felt like a pervert but he really really loved how your boobs moved up and down when they weren't in his mouth. You tightened your fingers into his hair and made it harder for him to concentrate and suck. He looked up into your eyes through his long eyelashes and started licking your nipple before putting it between my lips.
"My slut."
He let go of your nipple, "No. I'm your good boy, please," and went back to sucking on it.
"Really?"
"Yes, yes, I am. Please, Mommy." Kiss after kiss was placed on your boobs as an apology for being a shameless horndog back at the mall.
"Such a good boy."
"Mhm," he mumbled not letting go of your nipple, sucking harder, needing you to praise him more.
Your thighs were trembling, an orgasm coming soon. Sunghoon was close too, but he needed your permission first. "Mommy. Mommy. I-" A moan disrupted his sentence. "Ngh, Mommy. I-I'm gonna cum."
You yanked his head back at that and put your lips on his neck, "Cum for me, my good boy."
He filled the condom with his cum.
"Th-Th-Thank you, Mommy."
Your hips rode out his orgasm and he moaned like a slut the whole time. "Mommy, hurts."
"Good." You continued overstimulating him, chasing your second orgasm. He bit his lip, trying not to moan too loudly. Then you came too with a small bite to his neck.
You laid on top of him, just hugging, breathing each other in and pecking at each other's faces and shoulders.
"Want me to run us a bath, Baby?"
His answer was a small pout — your weakness — and a soft nod.
You got up and held his hand, leading him to the bathroom where you threw away the condom in the trash and swayed slowly back and forth as you hugged, waiting for the bathtub to fill with warm water.
"Oh! Almost forgot something," you were confused when Sunghoon let go of the hug.
You smiled as soon as you saw him come back with a lighter and caramel scented candle.
Genre: married life!AU, for the sake of the role play: forbidden love!AU, CEO!Reader, prostitute!Jungkook
Kinks: the trope of subby boy totally enthralled by his Domme, sex worker role play, sugar Mommy roleplay, he calls her both Mistress & Mommy, exhibitionism, handjob & blowjob in the car to the hotel room, he is so whiney and subby and pretty as she does it, orgasm control, cock rings, bondage gear which is also used later on, handjob in the hotel room, temperature play with ice cubes, slight food play, masochist!Jungkook, praise, nipple play, mirror sex, subby boy tears, suit kink (she wears the suit), creampie, passionate sex in Amazon Position with his hands tied to his legs, possessive talk, he is THE subby boy, loving & giggly aftercare, they're so in loVE!!!!
Wordcount: 7.4k
a/n: this is based on these two asks 💛 i love him so much holy fuck the drink feeding part ruined me KFADKSF actually everything about this ruined me, you have no idea. he is quite frankly, my ideal subby boy and i might need to leave this earth to go touch some alien grass or smth
Jungkook was told to wait at the usual spot. He arrived earlier tonight, so he has been pacing, asking himself whether or not you would come. You never stood him up before, but there is a first for everything.
A few people pass him, paying him no mind. They would look at him weird if they knew what he was wearing under his oversized clothes. It was a dark gray matching set of baggy pants and a baggy t-shirt, hiding bondage gear under it. The harness was black in colour and made of the finest leather. It doesn’t hurt nor pinch, but Jungkook definitely feels it when he moves.
He checks the time again. You should be here any second now. He feels a little breathless at the aspect. He can’t wait to see you. He knows that someone in his position has no right to feel this way, but he can’t help himself. You always treat him right, making sure that he leaves each session lightheaded. Sometimes Jungkook wonders if he should even feel this way as someone who gets paid to have sex with you, but he does. That’s what he is. Someone whose job is sex. He gets a call or a text telling him to wait here and there with the aspect of having to perform sexual activities for the person contacting him. There are a few he doesn’t answer anymore when they contact him and there are such he wishes they would contact him each night. Quite frankly, you are the only one he has such wishes for. It was purely professional at first, but then your gentle nature and immense sexual talent made him develop feelings for you. When he got the text tonight, Jungkook almost screamed in happiness.
His excitement grows at the view of your sports car rolling up to him. He tries not, but still ends up bouncing on his tiptoes as he waves at you with a big grin. He can’t help himself. He is so, so excited.
The car you are driving is black and imported from Europe. It stops in front of him and the passenger window rolls down.
“Hi, how are you?” he greets you cheerfully.
“Good. Get in”, you order, leaning over to unlock the passenger door.
Jungkook gets inside, holding his breath as you reach over his body to get the seatbelt. He squeezes his thighs together, gazing at your face. Your arm brushes against his chest, making his skin feel charged. Your scent so close is making his racing heart flutter.
The seatbelt clicks in place, you fumble with it a little to check its tightness. Once you are happy with it, you place your hand on his thigh, connecting your lips with the side of his neck in a long, sensual kiss. Jungkook sighs, closing his eyes and parting his lips. His fingers instinctively grasp your hand, his hips roll up against nothing.
You end the kiss by sucking a slight mark on his skin, purring happily.
“I missed your scent this week”, you rasp, inhaling him greedily.
Jungkook moans, fucking the air again. He already feels lightheaded and it has only been seconds with you.
“Fuck, that’s what I needed”, you purr and sit up. You abandon his thigh for the sake of grasping his chin gently, forcing his eyes to meet yours. “You look pretty tonight.”
“Thank, thank you” he barely gets out in a croaky whisper, feeling starstruck.
You give him a faint smile and slip your hand away, gripping the gear stick instead to shift it into the right position. The car drives off smoothly. You keep both hands on the steering wheel until you successfully merged back into traffic, then slip your right onto Jungkook’s thigh.
He inhales sharply, squirming on the seat.
“How was your week?” you ask him, rubbing mindless circles into his skin. Jungkook dedicates one more part of his soul to you with each circle.
“Good.”
“Yeah? Had lots of work?”
“I tried not to book too many.”
“No? Why not?”
“Because I knew you would call. I wanted to save myself.”
You scoff in surprise, “hah.” You tongue your cheek and glance at him briefly. “Tch”, the chuckle starts as a scoff. You turn on the radio and touch his thigh again. “You should be careful with the words you’re saying.”
The music you are playing is laced with the taste of sex. You definitely chose it on purpose.
Jungkook shifts needily, finding it difficult to breathe normally. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologise, sweetheart. I’m not the one who’ll end up crying tonight.”
Jungkook touches your hand. It was so needy in nature, drawing a knowing smirk onto your painted lips.
You are wearing a suit and tie like always when you pick him up. The suit is grey tonight and you matched a white button up and a dark grey tie with it. The waistcoat is made of the same material as the suit, hugging your curves. You wear your hair in a professional manner and put makeup on. Jungkook is very attracted to you when you look like this. The amount of power and influence you exude makes him want to kiss every footstep you leave.
You slip your hand to his thigh again. You are currently standing at a red light. There are cars all around you, painting your faces is a mixture of red and white lights. Jungkook spots the sparkles of diamond earrings in the light.
“Are you wearing the harness I told you to wear?” you ask him, rubbing his thigh back and forth. Jungkook tingles each time your hand brushes over his inner thigh.
“Yes, I am.”
“Show me.”
Jungkook glances around himself. You, who feels his hesitation, look at him.
“Go on. What are you waiting for?” you stress him.
With a fluctuating pulse, Jungkook lifts the shirt over his torso, aware of the cars around you.
“Mhm, how pretty”, you say dryly. “Good. Hide it again. We don’t want others to see what I pay for.”
Jungkook makes sure that the shirt is tugged down neatly. His eyes meet yours. You are expecting something from him.
“Well go ahead, will you?”
“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry”, he stammers and lifts his hips to pull down his pants, exposing the fact that he is wearing no briefs. His slightly hardened cock carries a cockring on its base. Glimpses of more gear going down his legs can be seen.
“There we go. It wasn’t that hard. Get dressed.”
He obeys quickly, sitting back down with a way heavier cock than before. You are already fucking him without having to do anything. Jungkook is so deeply under your spell.
The traffic continues. You drive off, switching lanes after a while. It will take you around ten minutes to get to the hotel.
You bury your hand in his pants and take a hold of his cock.
“A-ah”, Jungkook lets out in honest surprise, gripping the edge of the seat as his entire butt lifts off the seat in a needy thrust.
“You know the rules”, you tell him and then no more words leave your lips.
The only noises are the city around you. Other cars, your own car, the music on the radio. They fill the silence you create. Jungkook helps as well; in breathy gasps and shy whimpers he fills the car together with the slick sound of your hand jerking him off.
Your eyes are glued to the traffic, you tap your unoccupied hand on the steering wheel to the music. It is as if you were completely unaffected by the situation and you definitely want to give off this vibe.
Jungkook can’t mirror your state. He is done for. Your hand knows his cock so well, touching him exactly where it feels the best. He goes from soft to rapidly hard from only a few strokes, meeting your touch in needy thrusts.
Truly the contrast is way too delicious. You, completely stoic and calm as you steer through traffic and Jungkook, utterly ruined and panting with shaky legs as he completely forgets that traffic might actually see him.
You stop at a red light again. Only two more to go before the hotel. You look at him.
His head is thrown back, his mouth agape and his eyes closed. What a beautifully arousing sight to see.
You tug his cock out of his pants and use the moment of wait to steal a taste. You sink him in completely, purring around him.
Jungkook moans. There is no way in hell he would have stayed quiet. Not when you bury him in your tight throat and send vibrations through him with your voice.
Two more purrs then you slip off, sucking on him hungrily the entire time.
Blop.
You slipped off, licking your lips as you straighten back up. Jungkook whimpers, chasing you with a sloppy cock and throbbing balls. He is leaking so much precum, base stretching out the rubber cockring.
The red light switches. You drive off, playing with his precum by rubbing his cockhead with your thumb. Jungkook is almost louder than the music at this point, head now resting on the spot between the seat and the window and back arched.
You don’t acknowledge him, steering your car with one hand. You have to switch lanes one more time and then you are already where you need to be. You do so calmly and safely all while your hand closes around his tip again to jerk it. Quickly, as if you were vibrating around him. Jungkook’s legs begin shaking, he drags out his moans, squeezing his eyes shut to the point they crinkle.
The car rolls to stop again. The red light, the last one before you take the driveway to the hotel. You lean over and sink him back into your mouth, slurping deliciously as you move your tongue as best as possible.
“Mistress!” Jungkook wails, reaching up to twist the seatbelt. His other hand grips the head rest, dimpling it deeply. He is mewling so much, throbbing in your mouth constantly while you messy him with sloppy oral.
You moan and purr deeply, enjoying every second of his cock, every fucking inch. You swallow him to the base, crying no tears nor feeling the need to gag because you stopped having such reactions years ago because in reality, your lives were flipped once.
This right here, tonight, is nothing but pretend between a loving married couple. Jungkook has never been a sexworker before nor was he ever paid to have sex with someone. You have no interest in being a CEO nor for you to pay him for sex. In reality, you were once the one he paid after a long day of being CEO until you fell in love and started a life together. One thing however will always be true. Your roles of power. Jungkook will always be your sub while you will always be his Domme. Even in this roleplay tonight. You are both so into it that it feels real. Right now Jungkook is the prostitute who should be used to blowjobs but who is currently losing his control while you are the hungry CEO needy for the taste of her favourite prostitute. You can’t get enough of him, but alas the traffic continues.
You slip off messily, letting your strings of saliva slap down his cock. You pick them up with your hand, using their slick to jerk off his cock. Jungkook barely wants to stay in his seat, pressing himself into the door wall.
“Mo-ommy ple-please”, he sobs, scrunching his face. He lets out the most devastating noises afterwards, twisting the seatbelt.
You ignore him, ogling the hotel in the near distance. You are so turned on. It’s difficult to drive at this point because of it. Jungkook turns you on so much. His noises are like ecstasy to you.
“Pl-uh-ease”, he wails and fucks your fist, moaning sweetly as his body shakes against his will. He does it repeatedly, having found the magic spot.
Your pussy is literally throbbing. If you weren’t so good at pretending that this left you cold, you would already be panting like a dog.
You roll into the parking garage of the hotel, searching for a parking space while beside you, Jungkook is coming closer and closer to an orgasm. He is squeaking so perfectly, fucking your fist like the neediest bunny ever.
You find a parking spot, driving into it backwards and with one hand. The motor turns off with a low purr. Jungkook hasn’t noticed that you came to a stop, arching his back from your touch.
One you retreat now that you are standing.
“No” Jungkook hits his head against the window and writhes, “I was so close, no please.”
“We’re here. Get it together.”
Jungkook barely peels his eyes open, looking at you all sniffly and pouty.
You, now gripping the steering wheel with both hands, cock your brow at him.
“What?”
“I, I was close.”
“And?”
He whimpers weakly, “it hurts.”
“How terrible. Don’t worry, we’ve got time. Tell me a little about your day.”
“What?” he breathes.
“Your cock. It’s way too hard. We’ll stay here till it’s soft again.”
Jungkook mewls, squirming his hips.
“Your day. Tell me about it.”
“I, I thought of you all day.”
“You did?”
“And all the days before that too. I missed you.”
You haven’t been home for five days for the authenticity of the roleplay. You stayed in this hotel, giving him no calls nor texts. You can’t deny that it didn’t make you want him in more ways than one as well.
“You missed me?”
“So much. Oh god so much”, he pulls a face of desperation, rolling his hips up, “I’m so hard, oh god.”
“I can see that. Are you not gonna ask me how my day was?”
“I’m sorry, oh god, oh. Did, did you have a good day?”
“Yes it was good. I had way too many meetings, but I kept getting distracted.”
“Why?”
“I thought of you in all of them although I shouldn’t have.”
“You did?”
“Mhm, I did.”
You unbuckle the belt and get on your knees, using your new position to lean over him with one hand on the window. It fogs up from your body heat. He gulps, feeling fragile and weak in your presence.
“Why is that, mhm?” You ask him, studying his flushed face. “I’m merely paying you. It should mean nothing to me and yet...” You trail off, studying his glossy lips. You speak no more thoughts, tracing his lips with your messied thumb.
Jungkook licks it instinctively, moaning in submission as his big, brown eyes gaze up at you. Every other night, you would be kissing him right now. But not tonight. You sit back and glance at his cock. It has softened a little. Barely, but you are feeling impatient.
“Perfect. You’re good. Get dressed”, you say and leave the car, rounding it in confident steps.
Jungkook tries to sit up straight, stuffing his cock into his pants. It is very difficult to do because he is still very hard.
You open the door for him and offer him the hand which, moments ago, was around his cock.
Jungkook gulps, accepting it so you can help him get out of the car. You are wearing dress shoes because driving in heels would be reckless. Jungkook sees no difference, worshiping you with his big eyes.
You close the door and lock the car, letting the keys slip into the inner pocket of your suit jacket.
You take his hand.
“Follow me.”
He obeys, following you like a good little puppy even if walking with a semi is very difficult.
Your hotel room is on the twentieth floor. You don’t talk in the elevator, having your back turned to him as you stand right in front of him. Your pinkie fingers are hooked however, letting Jungkook float on cloud nine. He missed you so much this week, despite not being allowed to, and it feels so good to know that you missed him too. That you craved to be close to him as well. Fuck, the lines between professional and unprofessional are so fucking blurry between you and him.
You step closer to him each time other people enter the elevator, making sure that he is covered from their eyes. He may be walking around with a hard-on but this is still your hard-on to look at. No one else is allowed a glance at it. Not even on accident.
By the time you reach the twentieth floor, Jungkook is leaking into his pants. You take such good care of him. Your overprotective and almost possessive nature makes him want to become your personal little plaything. Seriously, tonight he would be happy living a life in a cage if that is what you think is best for him. You wouldn’t even have to pay him for it. Being close to you, being yours, would already be payment enough for him.
Like always, you booked the biggest suit. Only the best for your favourite prostitute. That’s what you told him when you first led him to your room. Jungkook gazed at it with sparkling eyes back then, not believing his luck. He wasn’t used to such riches and luxury because his other customers take him to motels or fuck him in their cars. You are different. Of course you are.
“Welcome back, am I right?” you lead him inside with your hand on his lower back.
Jungkook thanks you with a bow of his head, which makes you roll your eyes at him fondly. He is too polite for his own good.
You were lonely before you met Jungkook. Life as a CEO is busy and hectic and leaves little room for personal relationships. You had influence, you had power and you had money but no one to share it with. No one to spend it on. So you looked for it on dating apps first, but never found what you were looking for. Then one night you stumbled upon the website he was on. It was a website where people could offer their bodies sexually for payment. Back then, you booked him solely from his description.
Lean, fit male sub with good stamina and expertise. Heterosexual but very open. Dark hair, brown eyes, five inches hard and can keep it up for long. Not opposed to anal. Kinky. Keeps it professional. Payment in cash only.
Maybe you could spend your money on him, you thought back then. You may not find love, but at least your needs will be met.
If only you knew that he would be waiting for you. He with his pretty face and his prettiest eyes, with his cute moans and perfect body, who always has something adorable to tell you and who is so, so polite. He made the loneliness go away and you wanted to spend your every fucking penny on him.
Like always, you lead him to the bed by his hand and sit him down on the foot end of it. Jungkook glances at the ceiling briefly, gulping heavily at the sight of the big ceiling mirror. The indications of what it means makes him shift needily.
“Sit properly.”
Jungkook straightens his back and presents his hands palms up on his thighs, “sorry.”
“Mhm.” You give him a little smile. “Now that the real fun is going to start, let’s hear our safety rules.”
“The handjob wasn’t part of it yet?”
“Obviously not. Just wanted to examine my product a little.”
Jungkook moans, back slacking in defeat.
“Sit up.”
He shoots up instantly, blinking his eyes shyly.
“Good. Tell me the rules.”
“Green, yellow and red. Snap my fingers three times or hum Happy Birthday. Yes, I want this. Please Mistress, please I really want this.”
“Good. You’re being so obedient tonight. I like this”, you praise and turn your back to him to disappear in the room next door.
Jungkook waits patiently even if he is a mess. His pants are sticking to his cock. He wants to be with you so much that it hurts not to be.
You reappear with two flutes of sparkling water.
“Are you thirsty?”
“A little.”
You hand him one flute, keeping the second.
“Thank-” he gets stopped in his endeavour of drinking with two fingers grasping his chin.
“Eyes on me.”
He obeys, struggling with it when seconds later you place the rim of your flute against his lips. You tilt his head back for him, tilting the glass with it.
“Drink.”
Jungkook obeys, closing his eyes sensually as you feed him the sparkling water. It tingles on his tongue, wetting his dry throat. He gulps and swallows hungrily, moaning softly.
You feel so parched, watching him drink from your hands with your lips parted.
“That’s it. Drink”, you rasp, gulping with him. The last few drops roll down his chin messily. The glass is empty. You pull it away and wipe the water from his chin.
Jungkook flutters his eyes open, keeping them half-lidded as he gazes up at you droopily. His lips are parted, he is breathing heavily.
“How was that?” you ask him with your voice raspy in arousal.
“Good”, he croaks.
“Sorry that I got you a little messy”, you apologise, rubbing his chin.
“I didn’t mind”, he whispers, gazing at your lips. He wants to kiss you. He hangs on your every word. You fed him water, but in reality, you fed on his soul instead. With each gulp, each cold drop which ran down his throat because of you, he gave you parts of his soul. What a cold, addicting deal you sealed with this act.
“That’s good. Your face is so pretty, it would be a shame if I messied it even more”, you say and straighten up, leaving him to crave something he knows he can’t have. Your sweetened kiss.
You take the flute from his hand and drink from it as you walk to the table to set his empty glass aside. You finished half of it when you return to him, swirling it in your hand casually. You put ice cubes in your water, they clink against the glass as you inspect him.
“Undress.”
Jungkook obeys quickly, sitting down on the bed afterwards. He doesn’t feel uncomfortable being naked in front of you. On the contrary. Being so exposed while you are still in your expensive suit turns him on.
“Shit, you’re so fucking handsome”, you murmur under your breath, licking the rim of the glass mindlessly.
Jungkook gulps, wishing that he could switch places with the glass.
“What do you think of the weather lately? It’s been too hot, hasn’t it?”
Jungkook is a little confused about your sudden need to talk about the weather, but he still nods his head obediently, “yeah, really hot.”
“Mhm, I agree”, you murmur mindlessly and poke your fingers into your flute of water to fish for an ice cube. You keep it between three fingers and connect it with his neck.
Jungkook gasps, shivering. His skin is covered in goosebumps instantly, his breath quickens.
“I’ll cool you off a little, yeah?”
He keens a soft “mh-hm”, nodding his head. It is difficult to keep his eyes open when you make him feel so good. His skin is very sensitive to temperature and you know that. The ice cubes are like cold electricity to him, charging him with so much pleasure that he already wants to cry. He cries easily when he is with you because you always make him feel so good that it’s a little overwhelming.
You guide the ice cube along his collarbones to the other side of his pretty neck. Jungkook follows the touch with shivers running down his back. The ice is actively melting as it touches his skin, leaving behind dripping trails of water. You let them sit on his skin, enjoying the sight of them glistening in the lights. You switch hands because it got too cold for you, using your cooled fingers to grip his chin and tilt his head up.
Jungkook sighs audibly, parting his lips. The ice cube traces the shape of them. He dares not to stick his tongue out, regretting it blissfully when you stuff the small ice cube into his mouth without warning. He mewls and gurgles, curling his tongue to keep the ice inside.
His little struggle makes you chuckle and wipe the water from his lips. He gulps the melted water down, mewling just for you.
“You’re so adorable”, you say and push at his chest.
He falls back, gasping at the impact. His eyes lock with his own reflection instantly, flustering him. He looks to the side.
“Keep your eyes on yourself.”
He obeys even when it flusters him to look at himself like this. Not in a bad way, but in a very arousing way. His hair is messy, his lips so pink from the ice. His neck and collarbones match in colour. Jungkook feels himself reach up instinctively, looking at himself oh so submissively. Look at him. He is such a good sub. Oh god, this is such a turn on.
He is so preoccupied with looking at himself that he doesn’t even notice you crawling on his lap until he feels your weight on him. He tenses up, eyes flitting to you.
You are still dressed, but took off your suit jacket and rolled up your sleeves. The view steals his sanity. You sit right under his cock, making him crave you more than air.
“You’re being such a good boy for me”, you praise him and lift a new ice cube into his vision. “Look at yourself, okay?”
He nods his head, obeying instantly. You connect the cold ice with his neck first, guiding it down to his chest this time around. Each second makes him feel breathless. Watching it pleasure him makes it even harder to bear. It feels so good, reaching its peak when you circle his nipple with it.
“Ah”, Jungkook moans loudly, arching his back into your touch as his fingers grip the sheets and twist.
“Eyes on yourself.”
He obeys, trembling under you.
“Gosh, look at you. Are you already crying?”
“Feels so intense”, he whimpers, barely able to look into his eyes, “Please can I close my eyes? It’s too intense.”
“Of course it is”, you state matter-of-factly and circle his other nipple with it. “You can’t close your eyes.”
“Pleaseeee.”
Jungkook mewls through gritted teeth, arching his back again and twisting the sheets. His cock throbs, leaking on his tummy. His neck is tensed. He is so fucking pretty like this.
“You’re such a pretty man”, you purr, giving his overstimulated nipples a quick break by guiding the almost melted ice cube through his abs. The goosebumps on his skin refuse to leave, the skin around his dark nipples is pink and tender. “So fucking pretty, it’s insane.”
Jungkook closes his eyes. He can’t do it anymore. The praise is too much.
“Hey”, you warn, tugging on his cock once.
Jungkook instantly fucks into your fist, making the neediest noises. The pleasure is so warm and good for two seconds and then burning cold pierces his cockhead as you press the ice cube against it, letting it melt there. In his panic, he opens his eyes, looking at you pleadingly. His noises let you know that this right now hurts in a good way.
“Eyes open. I thought my instructions were easy to follow.”
Jungkook pants and whimpers, writhing under you.
“I know it hurts, but I need you to learn that disobeying me will end in punishments.”
“Please”, he sobs.
“No. No begging. Why did you do it mhm?”
“It, it felt too good. Almost close, I mean, almost ca- cum. Oh god please”, he writhes, throwing his head to the side, “it hurts so much.”
“Well, are you sorry?”
“Yes! Yes, I’m sorry!”
“And are you gonna keep your eyes open?”
“Yes! I’m sorry, I will!”
“Good boy”, you praise, releasing him of his torture by finally opening your fist around his cock. You slip the tiny ice cube between your lips, letting it melt there with a delicious hum. “Mhm, tastes like you.”
Jungkook glances at his cock. The spot where the ice cube was pressed into it is purple from the cold. Of course you spot it as well, rubbing your thumb into it and sending such pleasure through his body that Jungkook almost throws you off from how aggressively his thrusts his hips.
You can handle him, taming his shaky thighs with little struggle until they are pinned under you again. You close the rest of your fingers around his cock to continue where you left off in the car.
Jungkook yelps up in ecstasy, throwing his head back as far as the mattress allows him to. Eye contact with himself is so difficult, but you told him to obey. He can’t disappoint you again. What if you tell him to never come back? What if you stop calling him? He can’t risk any more slip-ups, not when his entire existence is at stake.
Your hand is quick and skilled around his shackled length, forcing his legs to shake under your weight. It feels so good and Jungkook cries as he looks at himself. Not only has it been too long since he last felt your touch and this makes him cry, it is also to view of him which brings tears to his eyes. He is yours right now. Your pretty sub spread out on the sheets while you have your fun with him. He is so happy to be yours. Even if it is only for a few hours.
“I’m yours”, he croaks, feeling your hand falter around his cock.
“What did you just say?”
“I’m yours”, he is looking at himself as he speaks, “I’m yours. I’m only yours.”
“My little star… I’m paying you to be here. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No”, he cries tears, “no, I’m yours. Please, I’m yours.”
“No, Jungkook”, you choke out, dropping his cock for the sake of taking his face between your hands. Your face replaces his view, sending tears of worship down his face. He loves you so much and you have no idea that he does. Your eyes are foggy, your pupils dilated. “You have no idea what you’re saying.”
“I do. I’m yours, please Mistress.”
For just a second, your eyes mirrored the deep feelings Jungkook experiences when he is with you. For just a second he had the reassurance that his words are reciprocated. And then you break away from him, leaving his lap.
Jungkook feels too defeated to sit up. He lies in the sheets, crying little tears in the aching realisation that he is nothing but your product right now. You said it yourself. You are paying for him like you would pay for more milk in the store. The view of him would have probably hurt him irreparably when he didn’t suddenly feel your fingers twist the straps on his legs. He lifts his head, meeting your hungry stare.
“Legs up.”
He obeys, bending his knees and resting them on each side of his torso.
“Arms down.”
He obeys, presenting them to you as you clearly want to make use of the bondage gear. You open the clasps on his calve belts, hooking it in the ring on his wrist ties. Like this, Jungkook is forced to stay in the folded, open position. He feels so exposed and vulnerable like this, wishing for whatever you wanted to do to him.
“Comfortable? Do you like this?” you make sure.
“Yes, so much.”
“How long has it been since you’ve been hard with the cockring on?” you ask him.
“I, I don’t know”, he stutters, barely able to bring his voice over breathy gasps.
“I think it’s time we take it off, don’t you think?”
He doesn’t answer you, but it is okay for you.
“Promise me to be a good boy and hold back, okay?”
He nods his head vigorously, throbbing in your hand.
“That’s what I’m paying you for. Such obedience”, you praise and unbuckle the leather strap around his cock.
You can literally feel his cock throb in relief and how it grows so much harder in your hand. Pearly drops of pleasure leak from him. They are dangerously close to being white. The noises Jungkook makes and the utter bliss on his face lets you know that you aren’t that far off with your assumptions.
“Look at you. That feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Mhhmhm”, he mewls, nodding his head vigorously.
“Good”, you say and drop his cock, denying him of heaven.
Jungkook keens, writhing as best as his constricted position allows him to.
“Please, oh god please”, he begs, but to no avail.
You step back, falling back into your stern role. You begin undressing. Jungkook tries to watch you as best as the position allows him.
Your vest falls to the ground, your tie is opened, your shirt is unbuttoned and tugged out of your opened slacks within seconds. You pull said slacks down soon after, abandoning them on the floor alongside your panties. You keep the shirt on, climbing onto bed with the tie between your fingers.
“Eyes on yourself.”
Jungkook obeys, barely catching his breath. He wiggles his hands, coming to the blissed realisation that he can’t move them very much.
“You think you know what you’re talking about?” you say to him and bend over him to guide the tie behind his neck.
Jungkook gulps, gazing up at you with a dizzy head. With skilled fingers, you knot the tie and wrap the excess fabric around your hand two times so it sits snug in your tight fist. A makeshift leash to keep him close.
“You think you want to be owned by me? What do you even know about me? I pay for your company, do you truly think you would want to be with me willingly?”
“Yes”, Jungkook breathes, tilting his head closer in devotion.
You tug, helping him with the movement with the tie around his neck. Your eyes are burning in a dark fire. If you could, you would probably devour him with just a look.
“Don’t say promises you can’t keep.”
“Please, I could serve you so well.”
“No you couldn’t. I’m fucking twisted.”
“I’m flexible.”
An honest laugh rips through you. A glimpse of his love shines through the pretend persona you are performing tonight. Jungkook giggles, scrunching his nose.
“Fuck, you stupid noodle you”, you say, shaking your head in disbelief.
Jungkook’s heart flutters unbearably. He loves you so much.
You clear your throat and shake your shoulders to get back into character.
“Don’t think that I agree with you just because you made me laugh. I’m an asshole. I earn too much money and decide to spend it on obedient boys like you.”
“I don’t care. Please.”
You grind your teeth and darken your eyes. You know that you can’t change his mind. At least not with words. You straighten up and reach between your bodies to take his cock between your fingers. Jungkook’s breath speeds up.
“Eyes on yourself.”
He obeys.
“That’s it. Watch how your face changes when I sink it in”, you order him, slipping down on his cock. You are on your knees as if you were fucking his ass, but instead you are milking his cock in your tight cunt. The movement is the same, forcing Jungkook’s toes to curl in ecstasy.
His eyes go out of focus but stay locked with his own reflection. Your name slips from his lips, carrying proof of how good it feels for him.
“That’s it. Keep looking at yourself. Watch how you look when I fuck you”, you growl, twisting the tie around his neck as you rail him senseless. The position feels incredibly stimulating to you. His cock naturally grinds against your clit and rubs against your g-spot. The power you have in this position and the view of his big body folded into such a tiny shaking mess does the rest. “Watch how it would look to be owned by me. Is that what you want?”
“Yes”, he moans, “yes, yes, yes, yes please, yes.”
“No you don’t. You don’t want to be mine. You don’t want this”, you growl, fucking him harder to the point the bed shakes.
Jungkook rips his mouth open, rolling his ankles and tugging at his restraints. His lids are so heavy that he barley sees out of them. His face is flushed and his nipples erect. The back of your head is in his view as well, just as the shirt punching up on your lower back is. As is the grey tie twisted in your fist and the marks it leaves on his neck. He doesn’t get it. How could he not want to be yours when he has never looked better before? So destroyed, so marked and ruined. So fucked.
Jungkook arches his back as best as possible, getting pinned down instantly with a strong hand on his hip. He throbs inside you, leaking way too much pleasure on your velvety walls. The strength on your grip makes your shirt stick to your muscles visibly. Jungkook goes insane at the view, finding it difficult to look at the mirror. He wants to roll his eyes back and go brain dead. Please.
“I would break you. I would fucking use you up until there is nothing left of you. Don’t you get it? I’m greedy. In every aspect of life. You think being kind made me CEO? No, I take what I want and ruin it in the process.”
Whatever you are saying is only making Jungkook want to be yours more and more. He shows you his devotion with high-pitched moans and tears spilled only for you.
You tug at the tie harshly, forcing his head to lift. Your breath brushes against his lips. Jungkook closes his eyes, chasing your kiss.
“You would hate him in the end”, you whisper.
“So why are you fucking me raw?” he croaks out.
“Fuck”, your hips stutter before picking up a punishing speed, making it difficult for both of you not to orgasm, “we shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Please”, he squeaks, “kiss me.”
“We shouldn’t be…”
“Kiss me.”
“We shouldn’t …”
“Kiss me, please.”
“We…”
Your lips finally touch. You each moan into the other’s mouth instantly, breaking apart together. You drop the tie so you could cradle his face while Jungkook shakes his restraints and fills you with gushes of sticky cum. Your throbbing, tight pussy milks even more out of him, sending him to another planet because there is nothing better to him than sharing a high with you.
Once you come down together, your lower faces are messy from the sloppy tongue kissing you did and your heads are both pounding. The lipstick you once neatly wore is smeared all over your faces.
“Holy fuck”, you croak, dropping your sweaty forehead against his equally as sweaty forehead. You are panting for air, Jungkook is too.
Your pussy keeps his cock warm for now, but it will only be a matter of moments that it slips out on its own.
“Holy fuck, Kookie”, you breathe.
Jungkook whimpers, spilling happy tears with closed eyes and his body floating on the warm afterglow. You never called him like this before. It was filled with so much love. You feel the same for him. Jungkook cries in realisation.
“Why me? I pay you to get fucked by me. It’s nothing but money. How could you possibly love me?”
“Because you’re everything I ever wanted.”
“Fuck”, you twist his hair gently, pressing your forehead closer until your noses are squished slightly, “don’t say that, I might never let you go again.”
“Good. Don’t let me go.”
You chuckle softly, finding enough strength in your ruined body to tilt your head so you could kiss his forehead.
“How about I’ll take you to Hawaii first? All expenses paid.”
“You would do that with me?”
“Of course, my baby star candy.”
Jungkook peels his eyes open, looking up at you.
“Yes, please take me far away from here.”
You give him a smile, Jungkook retorts it.
“End scene”, you say, face morphing into your real expressions.
Jungkook breaks into giggles instantly, squirming under you happily.
“Wow mommy, you made us a-actually be together in the end. I’m so happy, this was so romantic”, he says, spilling tears.
“You’re such a cutie, gosh”, you wipe his tears. “Did you like it? I know you love happy endings.”
“I loved it so much. Oh my god, I’m so happy. This was so much better than I could have ever imagined it to be.”
“Hm”, you chuckle, pecking his lips, “you’re such a cutie, I’m gonna eat you. I would say that this roleplay was a total success. I felt so immersed in the scene with you.”
“Me too. I actually forgot that it was just play. You were so good in your role.”
“What should I say? You were the best.”
“All I did was whine and cry.”
“Exactly, you were the best.”
He giggles shyly, wiggling his arms. You snicker, wiping the messy hair from his face. Your eyes are spilling over in adoration for him.
“Mommy, can I be untied? I really want to hug you.”
“Of course, Bunny baby.” You say, slipping off of him. You and he are talking as you free him of his gear. “I’m leaking everywhere.”
“Oh no, I’m sorry. I came a lot. I didn’t touch myself this week, just like you told me to.”
“I knew that you wouldn’t, you’re my good Bunny after all. I really fucking missed you this week. I gotta be honest, the handjob in the car was not part of my initial plan.”
“It was so hot, oh my god. I had to work so hard not cum.”
“I could tell, you cutie.” You rub the tender skin where the leather belts lied. “Are you okay? Your skin is a little red where the straps were.”
“I’m okay. I’m not hurting anywhere. Oh my god Mommy, when you put the ice cube on my dick, I actually cried. That hurt so much.”
“Did you like it?”
“So, so much.” He shivers in memory. “I’m shivering just thinking about it.”
You smile, getting off bed to get something to wipe you and him down. He lets you work while he lies in the sheets totally chatty and happy. You listen to him with a content smile on your lips. He always gets chatty after you fucked him right.
“And when you fed me the water, I felt drunk. Please do that again one day, it was such a turn on. The mirror on the ceiling is so hot. Oh god, I can’t believe you picked this room and, and made me look at myself all the time. It was so difficult because it was so hot. Wow, thank you so much for everything.” He sighs, smiling goofily. “I love you so much, Mommy.”
“I love you too, Bunny”, you say and lie down on your side next to him, rubbing his tummy.
He rolls his head to you, grins and flips to his side so he could bury you under him in a strong bear hug. He makes the cutest sound effects, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. You laugh loudly, hugging him back as best as possible.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“You’re such a polite cutie, my Bunny.”
“I’m so happy.”
“I’m happy too.”
“Mhmm”, he kisses your neck and inhales deeply until he can’t anymore. Afterwards he exhales against you, tickling you with it. He lifts his head, giving view to his pretty, glowing face. “Should we get room service and watch a movie?”
“I would love that. Also, this hotel offers a really cool couples spa treatment.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I read about it and knew I had to tell you once you’re with me again.”
“We have this room till tomorrow right?”
“Yup. Wanna book the treatment?”
“Yes please”, he says and squeaks as he hugs you tighter in another surge of love. “I love staycations with you so much, Mommy love.”
⠀“She owns every inch of him — and tonight she’s proving it.”
⠀Taehyung comes home exhausted, drops to his knees the second she crooks a finger, and lets his wife take him apart with soft commands, deep kisses, and teeth on his throat. Slow worship of her breasts, desperate pleas of “Please, Noona,” and when she finally whispers “I’m all yours” while riding him to the edge… he comes undone harder than ever before.
tags: gentle!dom; sub!taehyung; married bliss; marks; rings n' the sweetest aftercare.
C; 6k words.
The sound of the key in the lock was slow, almost dragging. She looked up from the book she was reading on the sofa, a soft smile gracing her lips as she recognized the familiar sound of her husband arriving home, exhausted. The door opened and there stood Taehyung, his executive suit slightly wrinkled, his tie undone, and his large, expressive eyes clouded with a weariness that went beyond the physical.
"Sweetheart," she called to him, with that soft, melodious voice that always melted him from the inside.
Taehyung didn't even answer with words. He just let out a faint groan, a pitiful "hm," and let himself drift down the hallway to the living room, where he collapsed beside her on the sofa like a dead weight. His head instantly sought refuge in her lap, burying his face in the soft fabric of her pajamas.
She laughed quietly, a sound like an auditory caress, and set her book aside. Her fingers immediately sank into his dark hair, massaging his scalp with firm, loving movements.
"You've had quite a day, my love," she murmured, not as a question, but as a statement full of empathy.
Taehyung nodded against her lap. "Horrible," he managed to say, his voice muffled by her shorts. "Everyone is so... demanding. And the boss..." he pouted.
She smiled. Even though he was thirty years old, in moments like this, Taehyung seemed like a giant, adorable teenager. His famous pouts, which captivated the world on screen, were for her alone in the intimacy of their home. A secret language of discomfort that only she knew how to decipher and heal.
"My poor baby," she whispered, leaning down to place a kiss on his temple. Her fingers moved from his hair to the nape of his neck, kneading the accumulated tension. "My hardworking man, coming home so worn out... So good to me, enduring all that without complaint."
Taehyung made another sound, this time more of a purr than a groan. He was melting under her words and her caresses. He always had. She was his safe harbor, his lighthouse.
"You're so strong for the world, my love," she continued, her voice dropping to a more intimate, silky register. "But here, with me, you don't have to be. Here you can be just mine. My pretty boy. The love of my life."
It was at that precise moment. When the words "my pretty boy" left her lips and her hand slid down to caress his cheek, she felt Taehyung's body tense in a different way. It wasn't the tension of stress, but that of alertness, of desire suddenly igniting. He turned his head slightly, and his dark eyes, once clouded with fatigue, now shone with a new intensity. A blush crept up his neck to his ears.
She saw it. She knew every one of his rhythms, every sigh, every shift in his energy. A slow, confident, and slightly mischievous smile spread across her face. Her fingers, which were caressing his cheek, slid downward to his neck, tracing a line of fire over his skin.
"What's wrong, darling?" she asked, feigning innocence while her thumb drew circles on his Adam's apple. "Do you like it when I baby you? When I remind you that you're mine?"
Taehyung swallowed, unable to articulate a word. He just nodded, his gaze fixed on her, devoted and full of longing. The atmosphere in the room had completely shifted. The tenderness was now tinged with a palpable, spicy electricity.
"You are mine, aren't you, Taehyungie?" she asked, and this time there was no sweetness, but a soft yet firm authority in her tone.
"Yes," escaped his lips, a barely audible gasp. "All yours, Noona," he added, using the term that only came out in his most submissive moments, a code that ignited something primal in both of them.
Her smile widened. She leaned in until her lips were centimeters from his ear. Her warm breath made his skin prickle.
"Then, my good boy is going to be very obedient for me tonight, isn't he?" she whispered, and her hand left his neck to take his chin, gently but firmly, guiding his gaze to hers. "You're going to let me take care of everything. Of helping you relax... of making you feel good."
Taehyung felt the air burn in his lungs. The fatigue had vanished, replaced by an electrifying anticipation that shot down his spine. He nodded again, faster this time, his submission a silent, burning offering.
"Alright," she whispered, releasing his chin only to place a kiss as soft as a breath on his lips. Then she pulled back, stood up, and extended her hand. It wasn’t an invitation; it was a command wrapped in velvet.
"Come. The night is still young, and my sweet boy needs his wife to remind him just how precious he is."
Taehyung’s heart was pounding wildly, every trace of pout long gone, replaced by a burning devotion. He took her hand and let himself be led. Because only in her arms, under her loving dominance, did he truly find his strength. She was his safe harbor, his bliss, the one place where he could surrender control and simply be hers.
The walk to the bedroom was a whisper of footsteps and heated glances. Taehyung followed, his hand in hers like an anchor, until the edge of the bed brushed his legs and he sat, waiting. The mattress dipped under his weight, and she moved like a panther, settling into his lap with a grace that was both possession and caress.
Her black silk pajamas (tiny shorts and a button-up top) felt cool and luxurious against Taehyung’s overheated skin through the fabric of his dress pants. He immediately felt the soft, plush curve of her ass nestling onto his thighs (a delicious, familiar pressure that tore a shaky sigh from him). His cheeks burned crimson, but his trembling hands didn’t hesitate. They slid up her sides, from hips to waist, then down again to worship that generous, bouncy ass with a devotion that bordered on prayer.
"So eager, my love," she murmured, gently removing his fogged-up glasses. With a playful smile, she slipped them onto her own face. The world might be blurry to her now, but she saw him with perfect clarity: submissive, burning, utterly hers.
One hand on his chest, she pushed him gently back until he lay flat on the mattress. He yielded instantly. She followed, straddling his hips like a goddess in black silk and golden skin. Leaning down, she claimed his mouth in a kiss that wasn’t a question (it was a statement). Slow, deep, wet. Taehyung moaned into her, fingers digging into her hips, silently begging for every touch, every sweet name she breathed against his lips.
"My pretty boy… my treasure… my everything…"
Her playful fingers left his hair and traveled down to his shirt. With expert ease she undid the buttons one by one, revealing warm golden skin and a firm chest beneath. Every inch exposed became territory she claimed with the pads of her fingers.
"Please…" Taehyung begged, voice hoarse and broken with need. His dark, pleading eyes locked onto hers through the glasses she now wore. "Noona, please… mark me. I want to feel your teeth on my skin tomorrow."
She paused, fingers still on the last button. A slow, dangerous smile curved her lips.
"You want me to mark you, sweetheart? So everyone knows even if they can’t see it that you belong to someone?"
"Yes," he gasped, arching toward her. "I’m yours. Completely yours. Only yours."
That confession, repeated like a sacred mantra, lit the fire. She straightened, sitting tall in his lap, and the sight stole Taehyung’s breath. He surged up, desperate for her lips again, unable to bear even a second apart. As they kissed with renewed urgency, her hands didn’t stay idle. Slowly, deliberately, she began unbuttoning her own silk top.
One. Two. Three.
The black silk parted like theater curtains, revealing a delicate black lace bra beneath —fine straps, intricate patterns—. It was armor made of seduction, a brutal contrast to the tenderness of the moment. The lace framed her full, perfect breasts, the soft swell rising above the cups like a promise that made hunger roar inside Taehyung.
He kissed her harder, hands clutching her waist through the silk as if she might vanish. The whole room smelled of her perfume, of desire, of a night where love and surrender would melt together in a bath as hot as it was tender. She sat atop him like a queen on her throne, wearing his glasses and a satisfied goddess smile, holding absolute control and Taehyung wouldn’t be anywhere else in the universe.
His desperation was a living flame. His mouth chased hers, but his true hunger lay just inches lower: those breasts barely contained by black lace, soft, generous, a masterpiece he ached to worship. He dreamed of weighing them in his palms, teasing them until her breath hitched, burying his face between them and losing himself forever.
He was about to close the distance, mouth open and starving, when her hand pressed gently but firmly against his chest, stopping him.
"Look how desperate my baby is," she teased, voice dripping with affection and amusement. The glasses still perched on her nose made her even more irresistible. "So eager to play…"
"Please, Noona…" Taehyung whimpered, body arching toward her in silent plea. "Let me… I need…"
But she was already moving. With serene elegance she slipped the silk shirt off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor like a dark whisper. Now she wore only the lace bra and matching shorts.
"You’re not ready yet, darling," she said, and somehow it sounded like the sweetest praise. "You’re still wearing far too many clothes."
The command was clear. Hands shaking with urgency, Taehyung shrugged off his open shirt and tossed it aside. He knelt before her, torso bare, breathing ragged, tie still hanging absurdly and sexily around his neck.
She prowled closer like a feline, and with one smooth motion slid the tie from his collar, pulling it slowly before letting it drop. Her warm breath ghosted over his skin as she leaned in.
"My beautiful man," she whispered, lips brushing just below his ear. "So strong… and so, so good for me."
Taehyung moaned deep, raw, vulnerable. Her words always turned him to butter. Every praise, every tender nickname unlocked another level of surrender, leaving him weak, pliant, achingly hard. A shiver raced down his spine; warm wetness soaked the front of his boxers.
She eased him back until he lay on the soft duvet, then straddled him again, thighs framing his hips. She laced their fingers and pinned his hands beside his head. In the lamplight, their wedding rings glinted (two golden circles pressed together), silent proof of the bond that owned them both.
"All mine," she breathed against his skin, then lowered her head and sank her teeth gently but firmly into his collarbone.
He arched off the bed with a sharp gasp. The sweet sting was everything he craved: a brand of ownership. She continued down his neck with soft bites and wet kisses, each accompanied by a whisper: "My life… my precious boy… my husband."
While she marked him, Taehyung driven by primal need slid his hands to her hips. Fingers hooked into the elastic waistband of her silk shorts and tugged them down over her perfect ass, helping her kick them free.
She let out a low, approving purr. "God, you’re so desperate tonight, my love," she teased tenderly, arching to make it easier.
Now she knelt over him in nothing but the matching black lace set: bra and panties, both delicate and devastating. The sight was overwhelming. Her curves glowed against the dark fabric in the dim light. Inside his tight dress pants, Taehyung’s cock throbbed painfully, begging for release only she could grant.
With infuriating calm she leaned back on her elbows, half-reclining on the sheets, displaying herself like a masterpiece. Every shadow, every curve was deliberate temptation.
Taehyung whimpered, fists clenching the sheets. The pressure in his pants had become torture. "Noona… please," he begged, voice cracking. "Let me touch myself. I can’t take it."
Her gaze dropped to the obvious strain in his lap and her lips curved in satisfaction.
"So impatient, my angel," she murmured, voice like warm honey. "All right. Take off your pants. Get completely naked for me. And if you do… I’ll give you exactly what you’re dying for."
The promise wrapped in that loving authority shattered what little control he had left. Hands trembling, Taehyung stripped off his pants and boxers in record time, kicking them away until he was gloriously bare, skin prickling in the cool air.
While he undressed, she unclasped her bra with a flick of her fingers. And there they were: her breasts, free and breathtaking (full, round, perfect), dark nipples already hard and begging for his mouth.
With the same effortless grace she slid her soaked lace panties down her legs. As the fabric peeled away from her core, a thin, glistening string of arousal stretched and broke proof of how desperately wet she was for him.
Now both completely naked, the air crackled. Taehyung was on the verge of breaking, hypnotized by his wife (still wearing his glasses), gazing at him with possessive love and raw hunger.
Her eyes traveled down his trembling body and locked on his cock: thick, heavy, pulsing with need. She wrapped her soft, sure hand around him.
"Ah!" The cry tore from Taehyung’s throat high, helpless. He was so sensitive that the first touch sent lightning through him. Precum spilled freely, slicking her palm as she began slow, expert strokes.
Words failed him completely. His head fell back, hips rocking into her hand on instinct. They’d been too busy, too long apart, and his body reacted with months of pent-up longing.
Then came the praise —his personal drug—.
"Such a good boy… so sensitive for me," she whispered, hand moving with devastating tenderness. "Look at you, so beautiful… all mine. My perfect husband. This is all mine, isn’t it?"
Taehyung could only nod frantically, continuous moans spilling from his lips. Every sweet name dragged him deeper into blissful surrender.
She shifted, and before he could process it, her mouth (that source of loving commands and devastating kisses) sank down onto him. The wet heat was so overwhelming that a broken, almost virginal cry ripped from his throat.
She didn’t hold back. She sucked him hard and deep, unraveling him completely. Taehyung’s hands flew to her hair (not guiding, just anchoring himself in the storm). Her fingers stroked his inner thighs, soft against the intensity, until her jaw finally needed a break. She pulled off with a soft gasp and climbed back into his lap.
Taehyung dragged her to his chest instantly, burying his flushed, overwhelmed face between her breasts (his favorite sanctuary). His legs wrapped around her waist like vines, craving every inch of contact. He was trembling, lost in sensation, the world reduced to her scent, her warmth, her heartbeat.
She cradled his head, stroking his hair and nape, murmuring soothing words. She knew better than anyone he was teetering on the edge. Gently she lifted his face. His eyes were glassy, tears of overstimulation threatening, lips parted and panting. Pride and love surged through her at the sight of the red-purple marks blooming across his collarbone and neck, her marks.
"My life… my love," she whispered, voice like velvet. "Tell me what you need, baby."
The question he’d been waiting lifetimes for.
"Inside," he breathed, barely audible. "I need to come inside you, Noona… please."
She sealed the plea with a slow, soul-deep kiss.
"You’ll have it, my king. Anything you want," she promised, pulling back just enough. "But first, get comfortable for me, okay? I want you perfect."
Taehyung was meticulous about this. Coming inside his wife wasn’t just release it was sacred. He needed the position that let him feel her deepest, skin to skin, heart to heart. He arranged the pillows with reverent care until his head was perfectly cradled (his altar of surrender.
She knelt over him, knees bracketing his hips, ready. But first, with infinite tenderness, she asked:
"Are you sure, my love? If you ever want to stop, just say the word. What’s our safe word?"
He smiled soft, trusting, radiant. "I don’t want to stop," he panted. "I’d die if I couldn’t be inside you right now."
That was all she needed. With eyes blazing with endless love and fierce desire, she began to sink down, guiding him home.
She lowered herself with divine grace, her perfect ass settling fully into his lap. As she rose tall. back arched, ebony hair cascading like a curtain, her hand slipped between them. She wrapped her fingers around his throbbing length, coating him in their combined slickness, making sure every inch was soaked so there would be nothing but pleasure.
As she leaned forward, her left breast brushed his face. The tip of his nose grazed her nipple, drawing a shared gasp. Taehyung, driven by pure instinct and worship, placed his large warm hands over hers on his hips. Their fingers intertwined for a moment before he gently but firmly helped her descend.
He knew his size knew how thick he was. To him, her body was a temple, and entering it was the highest privilege. He would never let it be anything less than perfect for her.
A deep, guttural moan tore from them both as he finally filled her completely. She stilled, letting her body adjust to the exquisite stretch, breathing shallow. Taehyung’s eyes fluttered shut, lost in the tight, wet heat that felt like heaven itself.
While she held still, his tongue playful, starving found her nipple. He licked, then devoured it with pure adoration, sucking gently until it hardened further against his tongue, worshiping the soft, sweet skin that surrounded it.
“That’s it, my love,” she encouraged, her voice a melodic gasp as her fingers sank into his hair. “They’re all yours… only yours. Play with them, suck them good. You love it, don’t you? They’ve always driven you crazy.”
Taehyung moaned in answer, the vibration humming against her skin in total agreement. That little obsession of his, that delicious weakness she knew by heart, went all the way back to their teenage years—to those first dates when his big, expressive eyes couldn’t help drifting again and again to her neckline, no matter how modest or daring it was. It was a worship that had only grown over time, refined into this act of pure, reverent devotion.
While he lost himself in her chest, she kept pouring sweet praise and teasing words over him, mixing them with the filthy, beautiful sounds filling the room: wet kisses, greedy sucks, gentle nips, and whispered love.
“I’d be so proud,” she suddenly murmured, voice dreamy and thick with lust, “to carry your baby in my belly… to feel my breasts swell with milk to feed him… your milk, my love. All for you.”
The words crashed over Taehyung like a wave of molten heat, melting him even further. His right hand, which had been stroking her hip, slid up to cup her other breast, squeezing and caressing it with the same fervent attention, making sure neither was ever neglected. He squeezed his eyes shut, drowning in the triple sensation: his tongue worshipping one nipple, his palm kneading the other, and his cock buried deep and throbbing inside the warm, snug heaven of his wife, waiting for their ritual to reach its peak.
While Taehyung stayed blissfully lost in adoration, she slipped her hand between their joined bodies. Her own fingers found her swollen, pulsing clit and began tracing tight, precise circles.
Taehyung felt it instantly. Even with his lips sealed around her nipple, her whole body jerked against him, and a raw, unfiltered cry tore from her throat. She threw her head back, face tilted to the ceiling, eyes squeezed shut. It was divine overload: electric tingles shooting from her nipples, the thick stretch of her husband filling her completely, and now the blazing focus on her clit. In the middle of that storm, one crystal-clear thought cut through: God, I love him so much.
After letting the wave of self-pleasure crash over her for a few breathless minutes, she gasped out a warning. “Baby… I’m gonna… I’m gonna move.”
Taehyung released her breast with a wet pop, eyes hazy with need. He nodded, voice hoarse and worried. “Yes… but… go slow, okay? Don’t rush.”
Instead of keeping her dominant perch, she collapsed to his side, turning to face him. Her face sank into the pillow beside his, and she began rolling her hips in a slow, sensual rhythm. It was deliberate friction, a languid dance that dragged every inch of her inner walls along Taehyung’s thick length.
That was the beauty of their dynamic. Taehyung craved slowness, the prolonged caress, the gradual climb. Deep down, she hungered for hard, possessive intensity. It hadn’t always been this way. At the start of their relationship, Taehyung had been the one in charge—fiery, commanding. But the mental exhaustion of his career had taken its toll. Stamina and mutual satisfaction had suffered, positions tried and discarded in frustration. Until one night, heart in his hands, Taehyung confessed he wanted to explore his submissive side, to hand her the reins.
It had been a revelation for both of them. Their very first testing ground? Ironically, Namjoon’s pristine, obsessively tidy apartment. That leather sofa they later had to deep-clean of every trace of their fluids had witnessed a wild night of discovery and liberation—one playful secret Namjoon, thankfully, never found out about.
Now, in their own bed, gasps and moans mingled with the slick slap of sweaty skin. She rolled her hips, bouncing her ass against his lap, and every downward glide made Taehyung feel himself swell even more inside her, stretching her in a way that drove her insane.
“I love you… I love you so much,” she whispered hotly into his ear. “You feel so good… you’ve got me so wet, my love. You’re perfect.”
Obscene and sweet at once—the exact combination that wrecked him. Taehyung answered with a long, broken moan, fingers clawing the sheets. She was plucking the deepest string of his fantasies.
Then she pushed up, straddling him again without breaking rhythm. Her breasts swayed with every roll of her hips, hypnotic. His glasses, fogged and crooked, still sat on her nose. She looked down and locked eyes with him, drinking in the beautiful mess she’d made: flushed face, lower lip trapped between teeth to stifle screams, damp hair plastered to his forehead.
With fierce tenderness she laced their fingers and pinned his hands beside his head on the pillow, trapping him in her gaze and her touch. Her hips moved deeper, more deliberate—each one a vow renewed. The air was thick with the scent of sex and love, and climax, now inevitable, loomed like a tidal wave.
She knew him better than anyone. She could tell he was on the edge because his usual restrained moans dissolved into incoherent babble, choked little whimpers that came from the depths of his soul. He wasn’t a man of dirty talk or elaborate phrases in bed; his pleasure poured out as raw, vulnerable sound that laid him completely bare. And to her, that was worth more than any speech.
His silence wasn’t shyness—it a gift of absolute trust. This was the same man who, with trembling hands, had once built her a sanctuary of white roses and candles to propose. The one who proudly took her last name, Everhart, wearing her elegance like a badge of honor. The one who, on their first anniversary, gifted her the Bichon Frisé puppy she adored because he knew her laughter would fill their home. Taehyung loved her so deeply that surrendering control in their intimacy was simply another way of saying “I’m yours.”
“Are you there, my life?” she asked, voice a thread of tenderness and lust as she stroked his sweaty cheek.
Taehyung, eyes glassy, voice a jumbled rush of broken syllables, nodded frantically. Words were beyond him, but his body spoke volumes.
“Me too… Baby, I’m gonna come!” she cried, and her whole body began to shake.
That was the permission he’d been waiting for. With a guttural growl, Taehyung thrust upward, driving deep and hard, hitting that spot inside her that shattered her completely. He felt her walls clamp down in violent spasms, a rush of warm wetness flooding around him as she collapsed onto his chest, trembling uncontrollably.
She was the most erotic sight he’d ever seen: glasses fogged and crooked, midnight hair plastered to her temples and half-covering her breasts, eyes slitted in bliss as they met his.
And then, in that husky, feminine voice that always melted his soul, she whispered the three words that undid him completely:
“I’m all yours.”
It was the final trigger.
A long, raw, relief-drenched moan tore from the depths of Taehyung. His back arched off the bed as he came in thick, powerful jets, flooding her with everything he had, as if years of longing were pouring out at once. His hips kept jerking, milking every last drop into the warm sanctuary of his wife, claiming her in the most primal, loving way possible. It wasn’t just an orgasm; it was a renewal of vows, two souls fusing in the sweaty, breathless silence of their bedroom.
A huge, slow, salty kiss sealed the battle their bodies had just fought. It tasted like shared victory, like love reaffirmed in every gasp. They parted panting, spent, the warm evidence of their lovemaking still slick between their thighs.
Slowly she lifted her hips; a pearly trickle escaped, sliding down her inner thigh. Taehyung’s spent cock lay soft against his stomach, utterly exhausted. She collapsed onto his chest, cheek over his racing heart, trying to catch her breath. Taehyung was more wrecked than she was; he couldn’t remember coming that hard, that completely, in years.
After a moment she rolled gently to his side and opened her arms. Taehyung crawled into them instantly, burying his face in the crook of her neck. The storm had passed, leaving only deep calm and a flood of devotion.
“I love you,” he mumbled against her skin, voice hoarse and sleepy. “You’re mine… all mine. And I’m yours. Only yours. No one else gets to touch you… I take care of you, only me.”
She laughed softly, the vibration humming through him. “There they are again, those adorable fake jealousies of yours,” she teased, carding fingers through his damp hair.
And it was true. Taehyung had a fiercely protective streak that flared whenever they went out. The stares other men couldn’t hide, the ridiculous pickup lines, and worst of all, the occasional cocky waiter slipping his number across the table—those were guaranteed triggers. Taehyung would fix the offender with an icy glare, pick up the scrap of paper, put it in his mouth, and spit it dramatically into the napkin holder, a caveman move that never failed to make his wife dissolve into laughter. His over-protectiveness was as much a part of him as his surrender in the bedroom.
Now, completely spent, he curled into her like a child seeking warmth. She pressed kisses into his tangled, sweaty hair, cradling him in the quiet.
“You okay, my life?” she whispered into the dimness.
Taehyung nodded heavily, already half-asleep. But even on the edge of dreams, his care for her came first. “Didn’t… didn’t hurt, right?” he mumbled, barely audible.
“Everything was perfect,” she answered, sealing it with another soft kiss to his closed eyelids. “Sleep, my love.”
She pulled the sheet over them both, shielding them from the cool night air. Taehyung’s arms stayed wrapped around her as if he’d never let go, and he slipped into deep, restorative sleep. Watching his peaceful, satisfied face, she let her own eyes drift shut, lulled by the slow rhythm of his breathing. In the hush of their room, still scented with love and lust, the two spouses fell asleep entwined, whole and utterly at peace.
⠀ “Grieving the loss of his best friend, Taehyung books two escorts looking for nothing more than comfort, gentle touches, and praise.
⠀What he gets is complete surrender: slow, devastating pleasure, tears, and a softness that blurs every boundary.
By the time he falls asleep in their bed, one of them is already wondering if this night was really just a job.
tags: soft dom; gentle femdom; m/f/f tree-some; hurt comfort; size kink; escort au; angst with a hopeful ending.
C; 14k words.
The light-wood door swung open just before Taehyung’s second, more determined knock could land. And in that instant, the world stopped for him.
Framed in the doorway stood one of the women from the photographs, but the pictures hadn’t done her justice. She was the younger one, twenty-nine, with toasted-sugar brown hair that fell in soft waves over her shoulders. Her features were a work of art: delicate yet strong, naturally rosy lips curved in a shy but welcoming smile. And then there were those eyes, green like a forest after rain, watching him with gentle curiosity. But what stole his breath completely were the freckles: a scattering of golden constellations across the bridge of her nose and cheekbones. He could have sworn he was looking at an angel who had decided to take on a touch of the earthly.
She wore a soft mint-green silk pajama set: shorts that revealed slender legs and an oversized button-up shirt. Over it, a matching robe so long it brushed her ankles floated around her with ethereal grace.
Taehyung swallowed hard; every rehearsed word evaporated from his mind. The bouquet of hydrangeas and white jasmine in one hand suddenly felt pathetic, and the heavy basket of fruit, cider, and cheeses in the other seemed like a desperate plea.
“Hi,” her voice came, melodic and soothing as a brook. “Sorry about the outfit; I didn’t expect you to be so punctual. You’re the boy who booked tonight, right?”
Taehyung opened his mouth; only a strangled little sound escaped. He nodded vigorously, heat crawling up his neck. “Y-yes. That’s me.”
Her smile widened, reaching those green eyes that seemed to see right through him. “Great. Come in, come in, please. It’s a pleasure to have you here.” Her gaze dropped to the bouquet and basket, and a soft laugh slipped from her lips. “Oh, is all of that for us? How sweet. What’s your name, cutie?”
“Taehyung,” he managed, offering the gifts like talismans. “And… this is for you both. I didn’t know what to bring.”
She accepted the flowers and basket with innate elegance, stepping aside so he could pass. “I’m Averly. My partner, Cielle, is in the living room. It’s lovely to meet you, Taehyung. Your name is beautiful.”
Crossing the threshold, Taehyung was enveloped in a warmth that wasn’t just temperature. The apartment smelled of vanilla and freshly extinguished candles. The lighting was low and golden, creating an atmosphere of intimacy and peace that made him feel, for the first time in weeks, like he could finally exhale.
Averly closed the door softly and led him into a spacious, cozy living room where plush cushions and soft blankets invited surrender. There, on a large sofa, sat the other woman—Cielle. Her jet-black hair was gathered in a careless bun, and her almond eyes radiated deep serenity. She wore a loose plum-colored silk kimono.
“Cielle, this is Taehyung,” Averly introduced, placing the flowers in a vase and the basket on the coffee table. “And he brought us these wonders.”
Cielle smiled—a smile that lacked Averly’s exuberance but conveyed instant calm and acceptance. “Welcome, Taehyung. Thank you for your generosity.”
Taehyung sat where Averly indicated, right in the center of the sofa, feeling like a ship adrift finally finding harbor. The two women took their places on either side of him—not invading his space, but forming an intimate circle around him.
“In your message,” Averly began, her voice as soft as the silk she wore, “you said you weren’t looking for… intensity. Just comfort. Right, sweetheart?”
Taehyung dropped his gaze, fidgeting with his fingers. “Yes. My best friend… she passed away a month ago.” The confession came out a whisper. “I miss her so much. Her voice, her hugs, the way she used to stroking my hair when I was sad… I crave someone’s touch. Praise. That… warmth.”
A small, long-fingered hand—Averly’s—settled over his. At the same time, Cielle placed hers on his back, drawing slow, soothing circles through his shirt.
“We understand completely,” Cielle murmured. Her voice was deeper—a cello to Averly’s violin. “It’s an honor that you trusted us to give you that. You don’t have to do anything, Taehyung. Just let yourself feel.”
Averly leaned in a little, her green eyes filled with a compassion that broke his heart into a thousand pieces. “You can close your eyes if you want, love. We’ll take care of you.”
Taehyung nodded, unable to speak, and let his eyelids fall. The world shrank to sensations: the soft brush of Averly’s silk robe against his arm, the firm, calming pressure of Cielle’s hand on his back, the scent of jasmine now filling the room.
“You’re so brave for coming here,” Averly whispered close to his ear, her breath warm and fragrant. “And so good. Bringing flowers and such a thoughtful basket… that speaks of a beautiful heart.”
Cielle, from the other side, pressed her lips to his temple. “Let go of the tension, Taehyung. You’re safe here. With us. You’re our good boy tonight, okay? And good boys deserve cuddles.”
The word “cuddles,” spoken with that mix of tenderness and certainty, sent a shiver of relief down his spine. He felt Averly begin to stroke his hair, her fingers threading through the strands with infinite gentleness, while Cielle kept drawing circles on his back, slowly descending to knead the knots in his shoulders.
It was a subtle domination—the domination of care, of absolute surrender. They were taking control of his comfort, guiding him into a state of peace where he didn’t have to think, decide, or remember his pain. Just receive.
“You’re so tense,” Cielle murmured. “Let us ease it.”
Averly, with slow, deliberate movements, cupped his face in her hands. Her thumbs brushed his cheekbones, and those devastatingly compassionate green eyes locked on his. “You can cry if you need to, darling. There’s no shame here.”
And then, as if a dam had broken, the tears Taehyung had held back since knocking began to flow silently. They weren’t sobs of uncontrolled anguish, but a deep release—the pain finally allowed to surface because it was cradled in the warmth he’d desperately craved.
Averly wiped his tears with her fingertips, her own freckles seeming to glow brighter in the dim light. “There we go,” she whispered, as if praising him. “That’s it.”
She leaned in and placed a kiss as soft as a butterfly’s wing on each closed eyelid. Then another on the tip of his nose. Cielle, meanwhile, rested her forehead against his temple, sharing her breath, her stillness.
It was the feminine comfort he had longed for. Touch, praise, warm kisses and caresses. And the subtle, unquestionable domination of being cared for—of surrendering to the care of two angels in mint and plum silk who, for one night, were saving him from the darkness with the simple, powerful magic of their presence.
And Taehyung, for the first time in a long while, felt truly at home.
The soft whistle of the kettle from the kitchen momentarily broke the spell. Cielle glanced toward the sound, then back at Taehyung, whose expression was fragile crystal after the release of emotion. “Averly, love,” she said, her voice leaving no room for doubt, “could you make us some chamomile tea with honey, please?”
The understanding look between them was instant. Averly, with a conspiratorial smile aimed at Taehyung, rose with her ethereal grace. “Of course. Be right back.” Her hand brushed his shoulder as she passed—a tacit promise of return.
They were alone. The silence wasn’t awkward, but it was heavy with the vulnerability Taehyung had just shown. Cielle, unhurried, turned to him. Her gaze was serene—a quiet lagoon after the storm.
“Taehyung,” she began, her voice a velvety whisper. Her hands, which had been on his back, slid forward to find his, resting inert on his thighs. “Your hands… they’re so beautiful.” She took them gently, lifting them so they could both see. “Long, artistic fingers… but so cold.”
Taehyung watched, almost as if they weren’t his own, as Cielle’s smaller yet steadily strong hands enveloped his. Her skin was soft, but her touch was firm, sure.
Moved by impulse, he turned his palms to lace his fingers with hers. The contact was electrifying in its simplicity—an anchor in the sea of his confusion. With the back of his free hand, he hurriedly wiped the last tears staining his cheeks.
Cielle leaned closer, the scent of plum and silk enveloping him. “I like you like this,” she whispered, her warm breath grazing his skin. Her free fingers ventured to trace the sensitive shell of his ear, teasing the skin there. The simple touch sent a fresh shiver down his spine. “So surrendered, so honest with what you feel.” Her tone was sweet, but there was intent behind it—a seeking. “I want to know more about you tonight. So I can give you exactly what you need. Will you help me, little piece of heaven?”
Taehyung could only nod, his voice still trapped in a knot of emotion, his energy draining yet slowly being replaced by nervous curiosity.
Cielle continued, fingers still circling his ear. “Tell me, my angel… when you think about feeling good, about forgetting everything… do you like things rough? Or always soft, like now?”
Taehyung blinked; the direct question delivered with such tenderness caught him off guard. “I… I hate pain,” he managed, his voice hoarse from crying. “I hate it.”
Cielle nodded, as if mentally filing the information in bold capitals. “Good. Soft, then. Loving.” Her next question was even more intimate, delivered with disarming naturalness. “And oral or penetrative? Do you have a preference for receiving pleasure?”
Taehyung shrugged slightly, blush returning to his cheeks. “I… I don’t know. I just want to feel good. For tonight to take me far away from everything.” It was an honest confession—from someone not seeking a specific act, but an experience, a balm.
Cielle seemed to understand perfectly. With a fluid motion, she cradled him against her body, adjusting so his head rested in the hollow of her shoulder. The silk kimono was cool against his cheek. “Shhh, it’s okay,” she murmured, pressing a long, reassuring kiss to his forehead. “You don’t have to know everything. We guide. You just feel.”
As she gently rocked him, her voice took on a slightly more formal yet still loving tone—the tone of someone setting the rules of a game that guaranteed everyone’s safety.
“Now, Taehyung, listen for a moment—it’s important.” Her hand stroked his hair. “First: boundaries. They’re sacred. Communication is everything. If you like something, tell us. If you want to stop, just say ‘stop’ or ‘red.’ We’ll do the same. Okay?”
“Yes,” he whispered, feeling strange relief at the clear rules. “No problem.”
“Second: sounds. We want to hear you. Sighs, moans… they’re music to us. But strong cursing isn’t our thing. Pleasure can be polite, right?”
Taehyung nodded against her shoulder. “Yes, I understand.”
“Third, and this is crucial: protection. We always take care of it. We don’t allow anyone to finish inside us, for safety. But…” she added, and he could almost feel the smile in her voice, “there are other places where it’s allowed, if you wish. And fourth, if at any point you feel like using a toy, a vibrator, just say so. We’re open.”
She paused briefly, her tone turning absolutely firm. “And fifth: twisted fetishes, pain, humiliation… they’re not welcome here. Our service is ‘vanilla,’ as some call it. Simple, consensual, loving pleasure. That’s why you sought us out, isn’t it?”
Taehyung opened his eyes and looked up at her. For the first time since arriving, a genuine—though small—smile appeared on his lips.
“Yes,” he said, with more conviction. “That’s why I looked for you.”
At that exact moment, Averly returned carrying a tray with three steaming cups of tea. Her gaze landed on them—on the way Taehyung was wrapped in Cielle’s embrace—and her smile filled with satisfied warmth.
“Looks like you two were having a nice chat,” she commented, setting the tray down. The scent of chamomile mingled with jasmine and plum. Cielle looked at Taehyung, her eyes saying, See? You’re in good hands.
Vanilla sex, Taehyung thought as he accepted a cup from Averly, had never sounded so exotic, so safe, and so profoundly desirable. For the first time in a long while, the immediate future—the next few hours—looked full of promise, warmth, and oblivion rather than emptiness. And he was ready to surrender to it.
The fine porcelain cup felt warm between Taehyung’s hands. He took a sip of the chamomile tea; its gentle sweetness soothed his throat, raw from silent crying. As he drank, he could feel Cielle’s gaze on him—not scrutiny, but deep appreciation, as if she were memorizing every feature of his face under the dim light.
“Taehyung,” Averly interjected, her voice an audible caress. She had sat across from him, her green eyes fixed on his. “So you’re completely comfortable… where would you like it to happen? Here on the sofa, or would you prefer the bed? It’s bigger and softer.”
Taehyung didn’t hesitate. “The bed, please,” he answered, his voice a little steadier. “I want… to feel comfortable.” And in that context, “comfortable” meant sinking, disappearing into the promise of soft sheets and a space made specifically for solace.
As he took the last sip of his tea, Cielle rose gracefully. She extended her hand toward him—a silent, powerful offer. Without a word, Taehyung set his empty cup on the tray and took the offered hand. It was cool and firm, a reassuring contrast to the heat beginning to simmer inside him.
She led him down a short hallway lit by ambient light. The walls weren’t bare; they were adorned with a series of paintings and drawings that immediately caught Taehyung’s attention. Some were anatomical studies of female bodies, confident lines capturing the curve of a back, the softness of a thigh, with a blend of academic technique and deep sensitivity. Others were dreamlike landscapes—misty forests and star-filled skies that seemed to reflect a rich, complex inner world.
Cielle, sensing his pace slow behind her, glanced over her shoulder. “Averly is about to graduate from Fine Arts, specializing in drawing,” she explained with subtle pride. “All of this is her work.”
Taehyung nodded, mesmerized by the raw, dreamy beauty of the pieces. It added a new layer of depth to Averly—she was more than an ethereal beauty; she was a creator.
They reached the end of the hallway and a closed wooden door. Cielle opened it and stepped aside so Taehyung could see.
The bedroom was a sanctuary. A king-size bed dominated the space, dressed in sheets the deep blue of a night sky. On the far wall, above an imposing but unlit fireplace, hung a large painting: two nude women entwined in sensual play, their bodies rendered by the same skilled hand that had created the hallway drawings. Unlit scented candles waited on nightstands beside stacks of fluffy towels, black silk blindfolds promising gentle restraint, and pillows of every shape. His gaze, however, inevitably landed on the nightstand: a crystal bowl filled to the brim with condoms of every size, flavor, and color—an overwhelming yet practical display.
Cielle positioned herself in front of him. Though Taehyung was tall, she somehow rose to exactly the height of his lips, her dark eyes level with his.
“We’ll give you a few minutes,” she said, her voice a whisper that seemed to vibrate in the still air of the room. “To get ready, breathe, and get used to the space. In a little while, Averly and I will come back to start our adventure.”
Taehyung nodded, a knot of nerves and anticipation in his stomach. He stepped into the room and heard the door close behind him with a soft click.
For a moment he stood still, absorbing the tranquility of the place. His gaze traveled over the fireplace, the painting of the women—now feeling like a direct promise—and the bed that called to him. A sudden need to ground himself led him to pull his pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He lit one with barely trembling hands and, remembering the delicate scents of the apartment, headed to the adjoining bathroom he’d noticed.
The bathroom was immaculate. There, beside the sink, was a small designer ashtray—not an afterthought, but placed deliberately next to bottles of lube, wet wipes, and even a little box of mints. The level of detail left him breathless. They thought of everything.
Leaning against the sink, he exhaled the smoke slowly. Nerves pulsed in his veins, but above them rose a growing excitement, a heat spreading from his chest. He wasn’t lying—Averly and Cielle were stunning. Even in their loose pajamas and robes, their beauty was a tangible, intelligent, empathetic force.
An absurd fear crossed his mind: what if he, with his clumsy grief and simple needs, shattered the perfect harmony they embodied? But then he remembered their voices, their hands, their gazes full of an acceptance he hadn’t found anywhere else since his friend’s death.
He stubbed out the cigarette, rinsed his mouth with water, and took one of the mints. As he left the bathroom, his decision was made. He wouldn’t break anything. He would surrender. He would let these two angels of comfort and desire carry him to a place where, for one night, pain didn’t exist—only touch, praise, and the warm, subtle domination of their care.
He sat on the edge of the bed, waiting, and for the first time, the wait wasn’t filled with anxiety but with a sweet, throbbing anticipation.
A soft knock on the door echoed in the charged silence of the room. Taehyung, just out of the bathroom, shivered slightly before crossing the room and opening the door.
Outside, framed in the hallway’s light, stood Cielle and Averly. They were no longer the same women from the living room. A subtle but palpable transformation had occurred. Averly had removed her robe, revealing the mint silk set clinging temptingly to her curves. Cielle, her plum kimono still tied, radiated a serenity now charged with intent. Their gazes, once purely comforting, now shone with a different, deeper, more focused warmth.
Cielle spoke first, her voice a thread of silk slipping into the room. “Are you ready, angel?”
Taehyung felt every word evaporate. His mind, so often racing with anxiety and grief, was now a blank page. He could only nod, and a small “yes,” almost a whisper, escaped his lips.
That was the invitation they had been waiting for. They entered with a fluidity that seemed choreographed, and the door closed behind them, sealing the space into their private bubble. The air smelled of cleanliness, unlit candles, and anticipation.
Guided by a look from Cielle, Taehyung obediently sat on the edge of the bed. They settled on either side of him, their bodies creating a comforting warmth that enveloped him. The caresses began immediately—not as an invasion, but as a gentle rain slowly soaking him.
Averly traced circles on his arm with her fingertips, while Cielle’s hand rested on his thigh, a firm and reassuring pressure. Taehyung kept his own hands on his legs, fists lightly clenched, feeling too vulnerable, too overwhelmed by the generosity of their touch to dare return it.
Their voices wove around him like a cocoon. “You’re so tense, gorgeous,” Averly whispered near his ear, her warm breath making him shiver.
“Let us take care of it,” Cielle added from the other side, her face drawing closer. “Just close your eyes and feel.”
Taehyung obeyed. He surrendered. And that was when the dynamic shifted. He felt Averly’s hand descend, resting on the fabric of his pants right over his crotch. The pressure was light, inquisitive, but enough to draw a deep sigh from him—a sound heavy with a need he had ignored.
Cielle, seeing the surrender on his face, leaned in until her lips were a breath away.
“Tell me, Taehyung,” she murmured, her voice spilling honey. “Do you like kisses? Do you crave being kissed?”
The question—so direct yet delivered with such sweetness—shattered the last of his resistance. He nodded, almost desperately, an intense blush lighting his cheeks. It was the confirmation Cielle needed. Without hurry but without pause, she closed the distance and captured his lips in a kiss.
It wasn’t a simple brush. It was a deep, slow, exploratory kiss. A kiss that tasted of comfort and promise, of chamomile and mint. Taehyung melted into it, losing track of everything else. His hands finally moved, clinging to Cielle’s shoulders like a lifeline.
While he was lost in Cielle’s taste and sensation, Averly, kneeling in front of him, got to work. Her skilled fingers unbuttoned his pants with gentle efficiency. When the fabric gave way, his member—half-erect and throbbing with growing arousal—was exposed.
“Oh, what a beauty,” Averly murmured, her voice full of genuine admiration. It didn’t sound fake or exaggerated. “So big and so pretty.” She didn’t wait for a reply.
She leaned in and placed a kiss as soft as a butterfly’s wing on the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, then another closer, and another, until finally, with a devotion that broke Taehyung’s heart, she placed a tender kiss on the tip of his cock.
The atmosphere in the room had transformed. It was no longer just a sanctuary of comfort but a space where pleasure was igniting, fueled by two women who cared for him with absolute mastery.
Cielle devoured him with breath-stealing kisses, and Averly began consecrating him from below, turning his pain into a low, muffled moan lost in Cielle’s mouth. It was the beginning of the promised escape, and Taehyung was melting into it.
The sound of kisses was a wet, syncopated rhythm filling the room. Taehyung, intoxicated by the sensations, began to lose inhibition. One of his hands rose and sank into Averly’s soft, wavy brown hair as she worked tirelessly between his legs. It wasn’t a gesture of control but of gratitude, of anchoring. His other hand, bolder, found Cielle’s hip, still sealing her lips to his. His palm traced the generous curve of her body, descending to the circumference of her full, firm ass.
The silk of the kimono yielded under his grip, and Taehyung planted his hand there, feeling the heat of her skin through the fabric. He was no longer a passive vessel; he was gaining confidence, timidly returning the intensity he received.
Averly pulled back for a moment, her breathing ragged. With deliberate movements, she undid the last buttons of her mint silk shirt and let it slip from her shoulders. Her firm, generous breasts were almost fully revealed, barely held by the delicate fabric of her bra. She leaned forward, allowing the soft skin of her breasts to brush against Taehyung’s now fully erect and throbbing cock. The contact was electric, a velvety friction that tore a gasp from him. Averly looked up at him from below, her green eyes clouded with desire, craving his kiss too.
Cielle broke from his lips with a glistening thread of saliva that shone for an instant before breaking.
“Take off your shirt, handsome,” she asked with a sweetness that brooked no refusal. “We want to feel your skin.”
Taehyung, fingers trembling slightly, obeyed. He pulled the garment off, revealing his torso. The room’s light caressed his skin, highlighting the fruits of his gym discipline: toned arms, a broad chest, and a defined abdomen, though not without the humanity of a soft midline.
Averly, upon seeing him, climbed onto the bed to capture his lips in a hungry kiss while her hand continued its expert work between his legs. Seizing the moment, Cielle rose fluidly.
With a single elegant motion, she let the plum kimono fall to the floor. Beneath it, she wore only matching silk panties. Her body was a celebration of curves: generous, rounded breasts, a soft, adorable swell in her lower belly that spoke of femininity and realism, and wide, powerful hips tapering into sculpted thighs. She was, simply, a queen.
As Averly broke from his mouth to plant a constellation of burning kisses along his neck, Cielle settled beside him. Her cool, confident hands began a slow journey of appreciation across his body.
“You’re so beautiful,” Cielle murmured, her fingers tracing the line of his collarbones. “So strong…” Her palm slid over his bicep, feeling the muscle tension. Then down to his chest, feeling the racing beat of his heart beneath her hand. “And so sensitive…” Her fingers continued their journey, across his clenched abdomen, until finally reaching his groin. But she didn’t focus on his cock; instead, with exquisite delicacy, she began to gently caress and massage his balls.
The sensation—new and intensely pleasurable—tore a deep, guttural moan from Taehyung, a sound that rose from the depths of his being.
“That’s it, gorgeous,” Averly encouraged against his neck, her own hand slightly quickening its rhythm on his cock. “You sound so good. Your skin is so soft…”
Taehyung was lost, overwhelmed and completely surrendered. The pain, the grief, the outside world—all dissolved under their expert touch and whispered praise.
It was then, as Averly toyed with one of his nipples with her free fingers, that she asked in that voice both soft and authoritative: “Lie back on the bed for us, gorgeous.”
Without hesitation, with an obedience born of the purest trust and desire, Taehyung reclined, sinking into the blue sheets. His body was now entirely at their disposal—a canvas ready for them to paint the night of pleasure and oblivion he so desperately needed.
The first to claim his attention was Cielle, who slid beside him on the bed, her naked body brushing his. She captured his lips in another deep kiss while her expert, soft hand resumed its slow, deliberate stroking. Taehyung, now incredibly sensitive to every touch, responded with renewed urgency. His own hands roamed Cielle’s back, and his hungry lips strayed from her mouth to find the soft skin of her neck, planting wet, panting kisses.
While this happened, Averly completed her transformation. With a fluid motion, she pulled the silk shirt over her head, revealing a slender, athletic body. Her breasts—not as large as Cielle’s—were firm and perfect, crowned with erect nipples. Her abdomen was flat and toned, with pronounced collarbones that accentuated her natural elegance. When she released the tie holding her hair, a cascade of brown curls fell over her shoulders, framing an angelic face now burning with desire. Finally, she slipped out of her panties, becoming the first to be completely naked.
“Look what you do to me, prince,” Averly murmured, voice thick with provocation, showing him the soaked fabric of her underwear before letting it fall. “You have me this wet, and we’ve barely started.”
She slid onto the other side of the bed, her bare skin meeting his. She captured his face and drew him into a passionate kiss while her fingers toyed with one of his nipples, lightly scraping it with her nails. The sharp, electric sensation made Taehyung break from the kiss with a muffled moan, burying his face in Averly’s neck as his body arched slightly.
“See?” Averly teased, laughing softly while stroking his hair. “You’re so sensitive, gorgeous. Every part of you tells us what it likes.”
While Taehyung recovered from the sensory overload, Cielle, with deliberate movements, removed the rest of his clothing: his pants, already down to his thighs. Now he lay completely naked and vulnerable between them, skin against skin, his arousal palpable in the charged air.
Cielle then moved, kneeling between his legs. With a smile full of promise and desire, she leaned over his cock, which lay fully erect and throbbing against his abdomen.
“I’m going to taste you, little piece of heaven,” she whispered, her hot breath making him shiver.
She placed a tender kiss on the tip, savoring the sensitive skin. Then, with agonizing slowness, she began sliding her lips over the head, opening her mouth to accommodate his thick shaft. It took effort—a delicious struggle that made her jaw muscles tense—but she managed, and the sensation of her warm, wet, tight mouth enveloping him was absolutely magnificent.
A long, guttural moan escaped Taehyung’s lips. “God… Cielle…”
Averly, watching from the side, bit her lower lip in approval. “Impressive, isn’t it, Cielle? Other clients don’t have this thickness,” she commented, her hand stroking Taehyung’s thigh. “We’re definitely going to have a lot of fun tonight.”
Taehyung could no longer think. He was being devoured by sensations: Cielle’s expert mouth sucking him with hungry determination, Averly’s kisses and caresses on his neck and chest, the whispered praise feeding his ego and desire. It was a whirlwind of pleasure, and he was surrendering completely, knowing he was in the most capable and loving hands imaginable.
The scene was a painting of pure surrender. Averly, despite her smaller stature beside his imposing figure, was an unstoppable force. Her mouth, as skilled as Cielle’s, now worked in sync with her partner. Taehyung’s broad, toned chest rose and fell with increasingly deep, panting breaths. Averly’s hand never stopped playing with his nipples, pinching and caressing them with precision that drove him wild.
His Adam’s apple danced in his throat, a physical testament to the struggle to hold back what was coming. Averly leaned in from time to time to kiss him, her lips brushing his in wet promises. “You’re doing so well,” she whispered against the corner of his mouth, her voice a thread of hot silk. “So obedient for us… so perfect.”
While Cielle worshipped his cock with near-religious devotion. Long strands of saliva glistened between her lips and his skin, and Taehyung’s hips had begun to move involuntarily, gently thrusting, seeking more depth, more friction. He knew, with a certainty that both terrified and excited him, that he was on the edge of the precipice.
“I’m going to… I’m going to come,” he managed to moan, his voice broken by gasps, a desperate warning amid the whirlwind.
Averly, hearing him, pulled back from his lips with eyes shining with excitement. “I want to taste,” she announced, moving swiftly to straddle his lap, right in front of Cielle.
Cielle, understanding, slid her mouth off his cock with an audible, wet pop, yielding the main spot to Averly. As Averly dove for the tip, eager for the reward, Cielle turned her gaze to Taehyung. His face was turned toward the ceiling, eyes squeezed shut, fists clutching the blue sheets. A continuous, guttural moan poured from his throat. He was completely lost, going mad among the pillows, and the sight was, for Cielle, as satisfying as the act itself.
Both women then focused on the final goal. Averly concentrated on the head, licking and sucking the tip with fervent urgency, while Cielle lowered her head to kiss and caress his balls with a tenderness that contrasted with the intensity of the moment. The climax was inevitable, cataclysmic. A choked cry tore from Taehyung’s throat as his body arched, rigid, beyond his control.
The first explosion of his essence—white and warm—splattered Averly’s lips, which received the wave with an approving moan, greedily tasting it. More strands followed, painting Cielle’s chin and cheeks as well; she didn’t flinch, continuing her slow, meticulous cleaning with her tongue, drinking every drop Averly couldn’t catch.
Taehyung trembled from head to toe, the spasms of his orgasm stretching in waves of pure pleasure and release. When the last shudder finally left him, he collapsed onto the mattress like dead weight, panting, covered in a fine sheen of sweat and his mind blank.
Averly pulled back first, licking her lips with delight. “God, so delicious,” she praised, her voice hoarse. Her gaze met Cielle’s, who was still cleaning Taehyung’s now-sensitive cock with final devotion. Cielle, after one last soft kiss to his tender skin, straightened. Their stained, glistening faces looked at each other. A conspiratorial, warm smile spread across both. They leaned in and shared a slow, deep kiss—a kiss that tasted of him, of their shared essence, of the victory of having brought him to such ecstasy.
“Mmm, you’re right,” Cielle murmured against Averly’s lips before pulling away and wiping the rest of his essence from her own lips with her fingertips. “Exquisite taste.”
While Taehyung lay there, catching his breath and immersed in absolute placidity, they curled up on either side of him, their naked bodies snuggling against his. There was no rush, no expectation. Only the satisfied calm after the storm, comfort and pleasure fulfilling their promise. The night was young, and the comfort Taehyung sought had turned out to be deeper and more healing than he could ever have imagined.
Taehyung’s world was a placid, cottony haze. Cielle’s fingers caressed his face, tracing his jawline with a tenderness that made him want to melt. From the other side, Averly gently drew him toward her chest, offering the soft cushion of her breasts and the calming rhythm of her heartbeat. It was a refuge, a harbor after the intense sensory whirlwind.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Cielle’s voice was a whisper near his ear, as soft as her touch.
Taehyung tried to articulate something—a word, a sound—but his mind was blank, erased by orgasm and emotional overload. He only let out a faint whimper, a sound of pure exhausted satisfaction.
Averly pressed a long, loving kiss to his temple. “Shhh, it’s okay. You don’t need to talk.”
Cielle kept eye contact, her dark eyes reading the serenity on his face. “It’s still early, gorgeous,” she reminded softly, and Taehyung felt a slight shiver of disbelief.
Still?
He already felt complete, drained, as if he’d run a marathon. Then it hit him: everything, absolutely everything, had been for him. They, in their glorious nudity and serene energy, had received nothing in return yet.
As if reading his mind, Cielle added, stroking his hair: “And don’t worry about us. Don’t stress thinking you have to please us. Our pleasure comes from seeing you like this, from giving you this. Watching your surrender is our pleasure.”
The words calmed him, dissolving a seed of anxiety he hadn’t known was there. There was no pressure, only a constant flow of giving and receiving that they controlled masterfully.
It was then that Averly, with a sweetness that didn’t hide her intent, murmured against his skin: “Tell me, my good boy… would you like me to ride you? Do you want to feel me on top?”
The image—clear and tempting—ignited a new spark of desire inside him, surprisingly fast despite his exhaustion. He nodded almost immediately, a small but full-of-consent movement.
Averly sat up with a radiant smile. Her soft but sure hands reached down to grasp his cock, which was already responding with renewed interest under her expert touch, preparing him for what was to come.
While Averly positioned herself, Cielle leaned over him to seal his lips with another deep, reassuring kiss. “Touch me, Taehyung,” she whispered between kisses, her voice another caress. “I want to feel your hands on me.”
“Where?” he managed to ask, voice hoarse.
“Wherever you want, darling. Wherever you like most.” Cielle adjusted, sliding further onto his body, offering herself. Taehyung, guided by renewed instinct, raised a hand. One palm settled on the soft, firm curve of the older woman’s ass—a perfect handful of flesh and silk. The other hand found Averly’s hip as she hovered above him, ready to descend. The contrast was intoxicating: the voluptuous softness of Cielle under his right hand, the slender strength of Averly under his left.
He was being enveloped, possessed and possessing at the same time. And as Averly began to sink down, guiding him into her wet warmth with a deep moan of pleasure, Taehyung knew this night of comfort was far from over, and he was willing to lose himself in them as many times as necessary.
A long, trembling moan escaped Averly’s lips as the tip of Taehyung’s cock brushed her entrance, wet and eager. “God… it’s so thick,” she gasped, her green eyes clouded with a pleasure that was almost sweet pain. As she settled, feeling her body open to take him, Cielle watched with burning tenderness. She longed to sit on his face, to feel his tongue inside her, but she held back her own desires. She didn’t want to overstimulate her “teddy bear,” as she had begun to call him in her mind. His delicacy, his submission, was a rare treasure.
Never, in all their years offering this service, had they met a man like Taehyung. The others usually arrived in a hurry, rough, trying to prove empty dominance. But he… he was gentle. Submissive in a way that wasn’t submission but surrender. His skin smelled of jasmine and something essentially him—a clean, masculine scent that enveloped them.
Cielle, seeing Taehyung bite his lower lip in ecstasy, leaned in. “Do you like to lick, sweetheart?” she asked, her voice a whisper full of promise.
“Yes,” he pleaded, voice hoarse from moans. “Please.”
A smile spread across Cielle’s lips. She brought two fingers to Taehyung’s mouth, sliding them over his wet, warm tongue. He sucked instinctively, eyes closed, lost in the sensation and in Averly’s increasingly deep movements on top of him.
“How do you feel, Averly?” Cielle asked, her gaze fixed on Taehyung’s face.
“Like heaven,” Averly gasped, her hips finding a slow, sensual rhythm. “He fills everything… it’s perfect.”
Taehyung was on the edge again; the feeling of Averly, so tight and warm around him, was overwhelming.
Cielle withdrew her fingers, glistening with saliva, and without warning ran them over one of her own nipples, coating it in wetness. The cool sensation and the lewd act itself drew a deep moan from Taehyung, lost in the duality of their attention.
Then Cielle captured his lips again in a kiss, but this time her tongue danced with his, a wet, slow dance that mimicked the rhythm Averly was setting on his lap. Averly, meanwhile, toyed with her own breasts, pinching her nipples as her body adjusted and moved over his.
After a few minutes of overlapping moans and gasps, Averly announced in a voice broken by pleasure: “I’m going to… I’m going to move faster, darling.”
Her first decisive movement was a firm descent that tore a cry from both of them. The glory was complete, a circuit of pleasure connecting all three.
Taehyung, with his mouth now eager to taste something, to have another anchor point, groped blindly. Cielle understood instantly. She rearranged herself among the pillows, bringing her breast to his face.
“Come here, my prince,” she murmured, guiding his head. “You deserve it. Suck as much as you want.”
Taehyung didn’t need to be told twice. With one arm he pulled her closer, and his mouth found her nipple. Cielle let out a high, clear moan—his name, “Taehyung…”—when his hungry mouth closed around her. He closed his eyes, an intense blush covering his cheeks as he sucked with the desperate need of a newborn, feeling the soft, warm weight of her breast against his face.
Cielle stroked his hair, her praise a soft mantra. “That’s it, very good… my good boy, my little cupcake, you’re behaving so well.” The delicate necklace she wore swayed gently, sometimes brushing Taehyung’s forehead, adding a cool sensation to his worship.
While he lost himself in Cielle’s breast, his other hand sought and found Averly’s, who continued moving over him with hypnotic cadence. Their fingers intertwined—a gesture of support and connection that sealed the triangle of intimacy. Taehyung was at the center, being ridden, adored, and held, completely surrendered to the comfort and pleasure these two wise women offered him.
Averly’s rhythm had grown more energetic, her hips slamming with a force that echoed in the silence broken only by moans. “I want it too…,” Averly gasped, her gaze seeking her partner’s. Cielle leaned in, and their lips met in a deep, salty kiss—a sensual counterpoint to the movement Averly imprinted on Taehyung’s lap.
The combination was overwhelming. The lesbian kiss before his eyes, the constant, increasingly powerful impact of Averly inside him, and the pleasurable suffocation against Cielle’s breast finally made Taehyung release the nipple with a long, broken moan.
Small, warm tears of pure ecstasy began to escape from his closed eyes, tracing his flushed cheeks.
It was at that moment, as her gaze traveled over Taehyung and Averly’s entwined bodies, that Cielle noticed the flash of bare skin. A crucial detail had been overlooked in the heat of the moment. “Averly, wait, stop for a second, love,” Cielle said, her voice firm but calm, gently stopping her partner’s hip with one hand.
Averly stopped instantly, panting, her face a mask of confusion and frustrated desire. Cielle slipped off the bed and headed to the nightstand. Her gaze quickly scanned the crystal bowl before selecting one of the largest condoms they had. Meanwhile, Averly, understanding the situation, leaned over Taehyung, who was now trembling and crying softly, overwhelmed by the intensity and the interruption.
“Shhh, it’s okay, darling,” Averly murmured, wrapping him in her arms. She kissed his tears, stroked his sweaty hair, and whispered in his ear: “You’re so good for us, so incredible. Just a moment, my doll. Everything’s fine.”
Taehyung clung to her, burying his face in her neck, while Cielle returned with the condom. With a delicacy that contrasted with the passion-charged scene, Cielle took his still-throbbing, wet cock. Before rolling on the condom, she leaned down and spat into her hand, using the saliva to lubricate him further, easing the task. Even so, the latex looked clearly stretched, confirming her initial impression: Taehyung had an exceptionally thick cock.
“Ready,” Cielle announced softly, helping Averly guide him back to her entrance. As Averly sank down, Cielle gently stroked Taehyung’s balls—a caress of encouragement and possession. When movement resumed, the connection between Taehyung and Averly was instant and even deeper. Their gazes locked. Averly, driven by the rawness of the moment and the intensity of penetration, let out a forbidden tease, her words vibrating with each thrust.
“God, beautiful… you make me feel things…,” she gasped, clinging to his shoulders. “I can even imagine how it would feel… to have your children. They’d be so beautiful…”
Her words—so full of taboo and fantasy—electrified the air. Taehyung, intoxicated by the confession, gripped her tighter, digging his fingers into her slim hips and responding to her movements with his own, more urgent now.
While the couple lost themselves in their spiral of moans and sweat, Cielle, far from feeling excluded, found her own pleasure in the spectacle. She slipped off her soaked panties—the last barrier—and lay on one side of the bed in a pose of pure, beautiful languor. Her hand descended to her sex, and she began touching herself with expert fingers, eyes fixed on the union of Taehyung and Averly, her breathing quickening to the rhythm of the bed’s thrusts and the symphony of carnal sounds filling the room. The trio had found a new balance, a crescendo of shared pleasure approaching its inevitable climax.
Suddenly, Averly stopped her frantic rhythm. She leaned in, her lips barely a centimeter from Taehyung’s, panting, her hot breath mingling with his. Then, with agonizing slowness, she lifted completely off him, abandoning the warm, wet embrace of her body. The sudden coolness of the air on his sensitive, on-the-verge cock tore a whimper of loss and frustration from him. Averly’s warmth had vanished, leaving a palpable void.
She stood beside the bed, looking at him with dark eyes full of a new kind of hunger. “I want you to eat me,” she declared, her voice hoarse with desire. “I need to feel that delicious tongue inside me.” Her eyes sought his, searching for confirmation.
“Will you do that for me, my baby boy?”
Taehyung, mind clouded and body screaming for relief, nodded fervently, almost desperately. “Yes… please.”
A triumphant, lascivious smile spread across Averly’s face. She turned to Cielle, who was touching herself with glassy eyes. “Your turn to enjoy, my love,” she said, voice thick with deep complicity.
Cielle, as if waking from a trance, rose. While Averly settled over Taehyung’s face, guiding her thighs to frame his head and gently squeezing his temples with her legs, Cielle slid onto his lap. Her curvy, soft body hovered over his.
Taehyung was in a whirlwind of sensations. His trembling hands didn’t know where to hold. One found Averly’s slim hip, now presiding over his face, and the other clung to Cielle’s generous hip as she positioned herself over his cock.
With a low, exquisite moan that vibrated through the air, Cielle sank down. She took all his thickness in one go, without hesitation, and the sensation of being inside her—so different from Averly yet equally electrifying—made all three cry out in a chorus of ecstasy.
Averly, now fully seated on his face, turned to look at Cielle. Their gazes met, a mirror of absolute pleasure. Averly rocked gently over Taehyung’s mouth, while Cielle, lost in her own trance, began moving on top of him, devouring every inch with hypnotic cadence.
Taehyung’s world shrank to a universe of sensations: the taste and texture of Averly filling his mouth, his nose buried in her soft pubic hair; the deep warmth and internal muscles of Cielle gripping and massaging him; the sound of their moans blending above him.
He was being used, adored, and consumed completely. At some point, amid that ecstasy, a voice—he wasn’t sure if Averly’s or Cielle’s—reached him like a whisper through the fog of pleasure: “How do you feel, my little one? Do you like it? Tell me you like it…”
Taehyung tried to articulate something—a word, a sound that did justice to what he was experiencing. But he couldn’t. There were no words in any language to describe this fusion, this total surrender, this feeling of being the altar where two goddesses offered and received pleasure. If ambrosia, the nectar of the gods, existed, it had to feel like this: a bliss that transcended the body and touched the soul.
And in that eloquent silence, filled with gasps, moans, and the universal language of pleasure, he gave his most honest answer.
A high-pitched squeal, followed by a series of broken cries, shook Averly’s body over Taehyung’s face. “There, there, don’t stop, please!” she begged, her thighs trembling on either side of his head.
Taehyung, submerged in her taste and sound, needed no further instruction. He devoted himself to savoring her pearl with frantic devotion, using every inch of his long tongue to drive her over the edge.
Averly began moving with uncontrollable spasms, bouncing on his face with desperate energy but mindful enough not to hurt him. Her cries grew higher, more urgent, announcing the imminence of her climax.
Meanwhile, Cielle, on top of him, had her eyes squeezed shut and her head thrown back. She panted, muttering incoherently between moans, swearing she saw entire constellations behind her eyelids each time she sank down, taking him with a ferocity that threatened to consume him. The rhythm was becoming frantic, almost brutal in its intensity. The overstimulation was too much.
“Slower… slower, please,” Taehyung managed to gasp, his voice muffled by Averly’s body but clear enough for both to hear.
As if a switch had been flipped, the movement stopped instantly.
Averly froze, panting heavily, and Cielle opened her unfocused eyes.
“Did I hurt you, darling?” Cielle asked, voice full of genuine concern.
“Was I too rough?” Averly added, lifting slightly to see his face.
Taehyung shook his head, catching his breath. “No… you didn’t hurt me. Just… slower. Please.”
Obedience was instant and absolute. Cielle began rocking on him with exquisite slowness, an undulating dance that let him feel every millimeter of friction, every internal contraction. Averly, for her part, settled again and slowed to a deep, sensual sway.
It was in that charged calm, in that deliberate rhythm, that Averly found her end. “Taehyung… I’m coming… I’m coming…” she whispered, with a tenderness that contrasted with the approaching storm. “With three licks… just three…”
He obeyed, focused. One long, slow lick. A trembling moan. A second, more targeted. Her hips rose, pressing against him. The third, a final, decisive movement of his tongue, was the trigger. A heartbreaking cry burst from Averly as her body convulsed in an intense orgasm. A warm, sweet gush of her essence soaked Taehyung’s chin, lips, and nose. She collapsed onto him, moaning uncontrollably, while her body continued shuddering with the echoes of pleasure.
Taehyung, in an instinctive act of care and perhaps his own awe, began gently cleaning the mess with his cheek and soft movements, tasting the last traces.
Averly, slowly regaining her breath, opened her eyes and looked at him. A weak, extremely satisfied smile crossed her face. “What… what a good boy,” she gasped, praising him as her hand stroked his sweaty hair. “Cleaning your prize so well…” She stayed there, on top of him, enjoying the last spasms and the tender attention of her baby, while Cielle continued her slow, torturous ride, carrying the night toward its next inevitable climax.
Cielle was lost in a world of sensations. Each slow, deep thrust was an internal caress bringing her closer to the edge—a heaven built from Taehyung’s thickness and firmness inside her. The sound of her own moans, mixed with his whimpering gasps, was the only music that existed.
Averly, for her part, slid off Taehyung’s face, her own body still pulsing. With possessive tenderness, she curled into the hollow of his neck, planting small kisses of gratitude and approval on his sweaty skin.
“You’re so incredible,” Averly whispered against his ear, watching as Cielle took Taehyung’s large hands and placed them on her warm, rounded hips. “Do you like it like this, gorgeous?” Cielle asked, her voice a broken thread of breath. She guided his hands, teaching him the rhythm that drove her wild, allowing him a fragment of control in his own surrender. “Do you feel what you do to me?”
“Yes… I love it,” Taehyung managed to articulate, his voice a sweet, submissive whimper that made both women smile. “So cute,” Cielle praised, lowering her head to brush her forehead against his. “Our good boy,” Averly added, stroking his hair.
Tension began building again in Taehyung’s body, a familiar coiling in his lower belly. “Cielle… I’m going to… I’m going to come again,” he announced, voice trembling, almost asking permission.
Cielle leaned closer, her lips brushing his. “Do it, my angel,” she whispered, her hot breath mingling with his. “Come for me. I want to feel it.”
At that moment, Averly slipped away from them and off the bed. “Give each other this moment,” she said with a soft smile, heading to the bathroom. Both assumed she needed a moment to freshen up.
Left alone, Taehyung wrapped his arms around Cielle, clinging to her as if she were his anchor in the stormy sea of his pleasure. “I’m coming,” he gasped, this time more urgently, burying his face in her neck.
Cielle held him tightly. “Yes, beautiful thing, I know. Let go. It’s okay, you’re protected,” she soothed in that voice like warm honey, reminding him of the condom he still wore.
Taehyung’s breathing became chaotic, broken by short, high moans. Cielle could feel him coming; every muscle in his body tensed. She leaned in and captured his lips in a deep, devouring kiss right at the climactic moment. A long, guttural, vibrating moan was released from the depths of Taehyung against her mouth as his body shuddered in a second, powerful orgasm, spilling his essence inside the condom while Cielle’s internal muscles kept squeezing him.
They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, panting, with Cielle stroking his back and whispering words of comfort and praise. When the last spasm finally left him, Taehyung, voice reduced to a faint, exhausted thread, murmured against her skin: “Now… can I taste you, Cielle? Please… I want to taste you.”
The request—so sudden, so submissive, and so full of genuine desire to reciprocate—made an unexpected, warm blush rise up Cielle’s neck and cheeks. No one, in the middle of their own exhaustion, had ever asked for something like that with such sweetness.
The warm intimacy of the moment was gently broken by Averly’s return. She held a dark purple vibrator and a bottle of lube, a playful smile on her lips. She sat on the edge of the bed, her hand tenderly caressing Taehyung’s cheek.
“My little doll,” she murmured, but then her smile faded slightly as she noticed the subtle tension in the air. “Did I interrupt something?”
Cielle, quickly regaining composure, shook her head. “No, not at all. We were just… resting.” Her gaze fixed on the objects in Averly’s hands. “What’s that?”
Averly’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “I’ve always wanted to try this with a man,” she explained, waving the vibrator. “Stimulating him there… with this. They say it can be incredible for them.”
Cielle cast a protective glance at Taehyung, who lay exhausted between them. “Averly, love, he’s drained. I think it’s too much for him right now.”
However, before Averly could respond, a low but clear voice emerged from the pillow. “It’s okay.”
Both women looked at Taehyung. He turned his head to meet their eyes, heavy-lidded but with a spark of resigned curiosity. “You can… you can do it.” Then his gaze turned to Cielle, and a faint blush tinted his ears. “While… I taste Cielle.”
Averly’s reaction was immediate. A squeal of pure excitement escaped her lips before she launched herself at Taehyung, covering his face with a rain of quick, loving kisses. “You’re the best! The most perfect client in the world!” she exclaimed, her earlier disappointment completely forgotten.
Cielle, though slightly surprised by the rapid turn of events, couldn’t help a smile of surrender. If Taehyung was willing, she wouldn’t stand in the way. With a fluid motion, she slid beneath him and settled against the pillows in the center of the bed, opening her arms in a silent invitation.
Taehyung rose with a soft groan, feeling every aching muscle in his back. He had no idea how many hours had passed, but his body was a map of the intensity lived. With slow movements, he crawled across the bed and lay face-down, resting his head in Cielle’s lap, who immediately began stroking his hair with reassuring fingers.
This new position offered Averly a view that made her hold her breath: Taehyung’s broad, toned back tapered to a pair of surprisingly plush, perfectly shaped glutes.
“My God,” Averly breathed, voice a mix of awe and delight. She reached out, stopping just before touching. “Taehyung… can I? Can I knead them a little? Just to… get used to them.”
From Cielle’s lap, where he was already distracting himself tracing circles on her thigh with his thumb, Taehyung nodded slightly. “Yes,” he murmured, voice muffled against Cielle’s skin.
With a triumphant smile, Averly applied a small amount of lube to her hands and then, with a tenderness that contrasted with the lascivious plan, began gently massaging Taehyung’s glutes, kneading away tension and preparing the ground for what was to come, while he finally surrendered to the task he craved: tasting Cielle.
The atmosphere in the room had thickened, charged with an intimacy exploring new territories. Averly, kneeling behind Taehyung, never stopped her praise, her hands working with a mix of adoration and anticipation.
“God, they’re perfect,” she murmured, palms caressing and kneading the plush glutes with a tenderness that contrasted with the growing sexual tension. “Your mother made you beautiful everywhere, my treasure.” A playful little slap, followed by a soft massage, made Taehyung’s muscles tense and then relax under her touch.
Meanwhile, Taehyung had settled between Cielle’s thighs, who sat propped against the pillows, watching him with a gaze so soft and full of affection it almost hurt. Her breath hitched when Taehyung’s long, determined tongue finally found her center, tasting the “other entrance” he had craved so much. A trembling moan escaped her lips, and her fingers tangled tightly in his hair—not to guide him, but to hold on as a wave of pleasure coursed through her.
The feeling of Taehyung’s mouth on her, combined with the sight of Averly playing with his body, made Cielle unconsciously lift her hips, offering herself more to his mouth and, at the same time, presenting a more accessible target to Averly.
Seizing the moment, with a low voice thick with contained excitement, Averly leaned over Taehyung’s back. “Darling, can I? Can I put a finger in? Just so you get used to it,” she asked, her hot breath on his skin.
Taehyung, lost in Cielle’s taste and texture, head swimming in a fog of dual sensations, nodded against her. A muffled, wet “yes” was his answer.
With extreme delicacy, Averly guided her well-lubed fingertip to his virgin entrance. The pressure was slow, constant, allowing the muscle to adjust. When the first knuckle slid inside, Taehyung’s body shuddered violently. A deep, surprised gasp shook his chest, and his instinctive reaction was to bury his face harder into Cielle, as if seeking an anchor, his tongue working with renewed urgency from the pleasurable shock.
The chain reaction was immediate. Cielle’s moan turned into a high-pitched cry when Taehyung’s tongue intensity doubled. She arched her back completely, hands gripping the sheets, her body convulsing under the double assault of sensations.
Averly held her breath, watching her finger be accepted, feeling the incredible tightness and heat enveloping it. “Very good… that’s very good,” she whispered, almost to herself, as she began an extremely slow in-and-out motion, preparing the ground for deeper exploration, completing the circuit of pleasure that now enveloped all three in perfect, overwhelming symbiosis.
“You’re so brave, my little cupcake, so perfect,” Averly praised in a hoarse whisper as her two fingers moved with a delicacy that belied the intensity of the sensation they caused. Every movement, every small adjustment, sent a new shudder through Taehyung’s body, which arched and tensed under the double attention.
His fist, the one not buried in Cielle’s hair, was clenched so tightly around the sheet that his knuckles gleamed white. It was the third time they had brought him to the edge, and his body, though exhausted, responded with fierce sensitivity. The surprise was feeling how, despite the exhaustion, his cock began to throb again against the sheets, slowly hardening under the torrent of pleasure flooding him.
Seeing the struggle in his hand, Cielle slid hers beneath, offering her palm as an anchor. “Here, darling, hold on to me,” she murmured, and their fingers intertwined in a grip as strong as it was intimate.
Averly then introduced a second finger. The sensation of being opened, of warmth and pressure expanding inside him, tore a long, broken moan from Taehyung—a sound that vibrated directly into Cielle’s core.
“Bend your fingers, Averly,” Cielle gasped, her own voice a thread of sound. “Upward. Find that spot…”
Averly hesitated. “I don’t want to hurt him.”
“Trust me. You won’t,” Cielle assured, her gaze fixed on Taehyung’s face, bathed in silent tears of ecstasy. “Look at him. He’s ready.”
Averly obeyed. With exquisite slowness, she curved her fingertips upward, searching, exploring the inner wall.
The effect was instant and electric.
Taehyung shot up from Cielle’s lap as if electrocuted, a choked, guttural cry tearing from his throat. His hands gripped Cielle’s waist with near-desperate strength, digging his fingers into her skin and pulling her toward his mouth with animal urgency, completely lost in the vertigo of pleasure. His tongue, previously playful, became frantic, devouring Cielle with an intensity that made her fear for her sanity.
All three cried out. Averly’s moan at the visceral reaction she had provoked, Cielle’s scream at the sudden onslaught on her sensitivity, and Taehyung’s torn whimper—pure surrender.
The next few minutes were a whirlwind. Cielle arched again and again, offering her breasts to the air, her moans a continuous mantra. Taehyung, eyes squeezed shut, no longer thought—only felt: Cielle’s taste in his mouth, the incredible, addictive pressure of Averly’s fingers inside him, moving in that miraculous dance that drove him insane.
Cielle, lost in her own ecstasy, stroked his hair and face, bathing him in praise and loving nicknames. “That’s it, my good boy, my beautiful man… you’re doing it so well…” And then, in a sigh thick with raw, out-of-place emotion, the confession slipped from her lips unfiltered: “God, Taehyung… I want to be the mother of your children…”
The room seemed to hold its breath for a second. It was a forbidden phrase, crossing a line neither of them knew they had. But in the fog of absolute pleasure, amid gasps and tears, it sounded not like a promise but the purest expression of an ecstasy that had transcended the physical to become something far deeper and dangerously real.
The emptiness was instant and plaintive. When Averly withdrew her fingers, leaving behind that exquisite feeling of fullness and pressure, a low, desperate moan of protest rose from the depths of Taehyung. His body arched backward, unsuccessfully seeking the contact that had been driving him so close to the edge.
“Shhh, I know, gorgeous, I know,” Averly murmured, leaning down to kiss his shoulder with a tenderness that soothed the fire she had ignited. “But I’m going to give you something much better. What you deserve.”
The sight of the vibrator, now glistening with lube, sent a new wave of nervous anticipation mixed with overwhelming desire through Taehyung. Cielle, though submerged in the whirlwind Taehyung’s tongue was causing in her, managed to open her eyes, her gaze glassy and lost.
“Slow, Averly,” she gasped, her voice a thread of maternal alarm amid her own ecstasy. “Please, go slow with him.”
“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing,” Averly replied with confident calm, placing the cool, wet tip of the toy at his now-relaxed but sensitive entrance.
“I’m going in, teddy bear. Get ready,” she announced, but Taehyung was too far gone, drowning in Cielle’s taste and sounds. With soft but relentless pressure, Averly began to push.
The sensation was so different, so intense and vibrant, that it tore from Taehyung a sound he had never made before: a deep, almost animal growl-moan that mixed with the toy’s hum. Feeling filled again, but with this new, electric presence, made his hips shudder involuntarily.
“That’s it, very good,” Averly praised, advancing centimeter by centimeter, feeling his body adapt.
“So brave, so beautiful,” Cielle added, tangling her fingers in his hair, pulling him back to her to distract him from the initial impact.
Taehyung was on the edge. Every pulse of the vibrator, even at its lowest setting, resonated directly in his core, amplifying every sensation he received from Cielle. It was a glorious, torturous overload.
Averly left it there, fully inside, letting him adjust. Her hands caressed his glutes in soothing circles before she leaned down and began planting a trail of soft, wet kisses along his back, from shoulders to the base of his spine.
Taehyung was losing his mind. His breathing was an open, noisy gasp, his body trembling like a leaf. Cielle’s hand moved from his hair to his cheek, caressing it.
“We can stop, darling,” she whispered, her voice a haven of clarity in his personal storm. “If it’s too much, just say the word and we stop.”
The offer was genuine, a reminder of the contract of care and safety. But stopping was the last thing Taehyung wanted. He shook his head forcefully, almost violently—a desperate movement.
“No,” he gasped, voice hoarse and broken. “No… don’t stop. Please.”
It was a pleading whisper, total surrender. And with that confirmation, Averly, with a triumphant smile and fierce tenderness, pressed a button on the vibrator’s base, making a low but deep vibration thrum inside him, sealing his fate on this endless night of pleasure.
The low hum turned into a constant, more pronounced vibration when Averly turned the dial, raising it one level. Taehyung’s reaction was immediate and visceral: a high-pitched, strangled squeal escaped his lips before his body convulsed, and the tears, previously silent, welled up with new intensity, staining Cielle’s abdomen.
Averly, alarmed by the strength of his reaction, stopped the movement. “Darling, does it hurt?” she asked, voice full of genuine concern, her fingers stroking his side in an attempt to calm.
Taehyung shook his head forcefully, rubbing his cheek against Cielle’s soft skin like a frightened cat seeking comfort. “N-no… don’t take it out,” he gasped, voice a broken, tear-soaked thread. “It feels… too good. Please, don’t stop.”
Relieved and excited in equal measure, Averly nodded. Instead of just leaving it still, she gently grasped the base of the vibrator and began moving it slowly, a subtle but relentless in-and-out that made every fiber of Taehyung shudder.
Taehyung suddenly sat up, as if spring-loaded by electricity.
Crawling fully onto Cielle, he buried his face between her breasts, seeking a refuge that no longer existed because his own hand, acting on primal impulse, dropped directly to Cielle’s core. His clumsy but determined fingers found her clit, rubbing it with an urgency that tore a shrill cry from her, as high-pitched as his own.
All three were now absorbed, lost beyond any preconceived limit. The air was thick with moans, gasps, and the constant hum that was the heartbeat of this new reality.
Averly, seeing the scene, clung to his back, pressing her own sweaty body against his. She rested her chin on his shoulder and brought her lips to his ear. “Our good boy,” she whispered, voice a thread of hot silk amid the chaos. “So sensitive, so perfect for us. You’re doing incredible.”
Taehyung felt his consciousness detach from his body. He floated in a sea of pure sensations, where pain and pleasure merged into one indescribable thing.
It was then that Averly brought a hand to Taehyung’s chest, finding one of his nipples and pinching it with cruel, sweet precision. Her other hand never stopped its play with the vibrator, controlling the rhythm of his inner storm.
Cielle, through her own ecstasy, noticed Taehyung’s cock, fully erect and throbbing, forgotten among the sheets. With a movement of pure lustful compassion, she slid her hand down and grasped it, pumping up and down with a speed that matched the vibrator’s in-and-out.
The combination was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Taehyung clamped his lips tightly around Cielle’s right nipple, pushing it inward with a muffled, desperate moan as another wave of hot, salty tears fell onto her skin. He was a being reduced to pure sensation, pure surrender, held and carried to the edge once more by the two women who had turned his pain into the most cathartic ecstasy of his life.
The air in the room was thick, heavy with the scent of sex, sweat, and melted candles. Cielle, vision blurred and every nerve on edge, felt climax approaching like an unstoppable wave. Taehyung’s tongue tracing wet, frantic circles around her nipple, his nose buried in the soft skin of her breast, and above all, his fingers playing with her clit with clumsy but effective devotion, had her on the brink of the abyss.
“God, Tae… I don’t want it to end,” she gasped, her words only broken sounds, almost incomprehensible. But each was a truth. The world outside this bubble of pleasure no longer existed.
Their bodies were a tangle of moans and convulsive movements. Drool mixed with sweat on their skin. Every time Cielle felt her orgasm approaching, her back arched involuntarily, offering more of her breast to Taehyung’s hungry mouth, as if that contact were the anchor keeping her tethered to reality.
It only took a few more minutes, a few precise strokes of his fingers. With a long, trembling cry that seemed to empty all the air from her lungs, Cielle reached climax. A warm wave soaked Taehyung’s fingers and the sheets beneath them, her body shaking in prolonged spasms before collapsing, exhausted and panting, against the pillows.
With her mind clouded but maternal and lustful instinct persisting, her gaze fixed on Taehyung’s cock, which she was still firmly stroking.
Before she could ask, Taehyung’s broken voice, muffled against her skin, announced: “I-I’m coming… again.”
It was the third. The confirmation was a spark that lit the final fuse. Averly, who hadn’t stopped her work, increased the speed and intensity of the vibrator, seeking that precise spot inside him with fierce determination. Cielle, with her last strength, quickened the rhythm of her hand on his cock, synchronizing each pump with the internal vibration.
It was a perfect storm, a synergy of stimuli that carried him to the edge in seconds.
With just two more strokes from Cielle’s hand and one final, deep buzz from the vibrator, Taehyung screamed. It was a raw, heartbreaking sound that came from a deeply guarded place in his soul. His mouth released Cielle’s nipple with a wet sound, and a powerful, warm jet of his essence shot out, staining his own abdomen and the already-soaked sheets.
All three cried out in a chorus of exhausted ecstasy. It was the sound of total surrender, of the journey completed.
Then, silence. Broken only by desperate gasps.
Energy vanished from their bodies instantly. Cielle collapsed backward, completely drained. Taehyung, with no strength left to move, fell onto her, his face finding refuge once more between her breasts, his body still trembling with post-orgasmic shudders. His breathing was chaotic, deep and broken, as the world slowly came back into focus around them, leaving the three fused in a heavy, placid exhaustion.
A muffled moan and a sudden tremor behind them was the only sign of Averly’s own climax. She had come, silent and powerfully, just from watching the visceral image of Taehyung being driven to ecstasy in such an intense, vulnerable way.
With a barely trembling hand, she turned off the vibrator and, with extreme delicacy, slid it out of Taehyung, who let out a sensitive whimper at the resulting emptiness.
The man in Cielle’s arms was a trembling, inert weight. He was exhausted on a level that transcended the physical; it was soul-deep exhaustion. Dry and fresh tears glistened on his cheeks, his body marked by effort and pleasure, and a fine, persistent tremor ran through him from head to toe. He needed cuddles, silence, the comforting stillness that only comes after catharsis.
Averly drew closer, her own breathing still slightly quickened, and placed a soft, prolonged kiss in the center of his sweaty back. “It’s over, teddy bear,” she murmured against his skin, her voice a balm. “Everything’s okay. You were perfect.”
From the other side, Cielle slowly began to emerge from her own trance. Her hands, which had clung to Taehyung with desperate strength, now relaxed into slow, lazy caresses over his hair and shoulders. A heavy, satisfied silence settled in the room, broken only by the sound of three pairs of lungs working to return to normal.
After a few minutes, with an energy Taehyung found downright supernatural, Averly rose from the bed. He, who felt he couldn’t even move a finger, watched her in awe through the dimness. How was it possible she moved with such fluidity, as if they hadn’t spent the last hours immersed in the most intense sensual blaze?
“Whew, so hot!” Averly exclaimed with an almost playful tone, stretching her arms overhead. She leaned over the bed once more, her lips finding Taehyung’s ear. “You were incredible,” she whispered, and the praise—so genuine and direct—drew one last shiver from him. “Thank you for trusting us.”
Then she straightened and gathered her clothes from the floor. “I feel all sticky. I’m going to take a quick bath,” she announced, as casually as if deciding what to have for dinner. With a conspiratorial smile aimed at Cielle, who barely managed a slow blink in response, Averly left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
The silence she left behind was different. More intimate. Deeper. Taehyung lay on Cielle, his breathing finally beginning to calm, listening to the racing beat of her heart beneath his ear. They were alone, wrapped in the wet, warm mess of the sheets, in the scent of their entwined bodies, in the echo of pleasure that had broken and somehow united them in a way Taehyung couldn’t begin to understand but desperately wanted never to lose.
Cielle’s compassion—always more maternal and grounded than Averly’s fleeting fire—manifested in a whisper thick with concern. “Taehyung, are you okay?” Her hand stroked his damp hair. “Do you want me to get you water? Are you hungry?”
Taehyung, with a faint whimper, pulled away from her with effort, rolling to lie on his back on the other side of the bed. His body was a map of exhaustion, every muscle protesting, and his now-soft, sensitive cock lay like an exhausted witness to the battle fought. “I’m okay,” he murmured, voice hoarse from moans and tears. Then, after a moment of silence, curiosity overcame him. “How… how does Averly have so much energy after… all of this?”
Cielle settled on her side, propping her head on her hand to look at him. The dim light caressed the curves of her naked body. “Averly,” she explained with a tone of familiar resignation, “has had clients… more intense. More difficult. She has a stamina that’s pure willpower.”
Taehyung swallowed. The comment put everything in perspective, reminding him of the transactional context, but the calm in Cielle’s voice reassured him. This moment of quiet, of talking and simply being, felt as essential as the sex itself.
He settled better, turning toward her, feeling the weight of exhaustion on his eyelids. It was then that Cielle, with an intuition that pierced skin, touched the wound that had truly brought him to their door.
“All of this… was it because of losing your friend?” she asked, voice soft as velvet, without a hint of judgment.
Taehyung squeezed his eyes shut for a second. He didn’t want to talk about it, not here, not now, but the barrier protecting his pain had cracked along with his orgasms.
“Not just… not just because of her,” he corrected, staring at the ceiling. “It’s that… I’ve felt so alone these past few days. So empty.” A deep sigh escaped his lips. Then, with a vulnerability that surprised even him, he returned the question: “Cielle, how do you… how do you keep from falling in love so fast?”
She smiled—a sad, wise smile. “I just let it pass, darling. Like a train in the night. I watch it, I feel it, and then I let it go.” She paused, studying his profile. “Why do you ask?”
Taehyung was silent for a long time. The words formed with difficulty. “Because I… I fall in love quickly. I feel too much, too soon.” His voice cracked slightly. “And I felt… a lot of things for her.”
Cielle reached out and placed her hand on his arm—a warm, steady connection. “Feeling deeply isn’t a weakness, Taehyung. It’s what makes you feel alive, even when it hurts. The trick isn’t to stop feeling; it’s learning to take care of those feelings without letting them consume you.”
A single tear slipped from the corner of Taehyung’s eye and disappeared into the pillow. It wasn’t from pain, but from a strange kind of comfort. “Thank you,” he whispered, the word carrying far more weight than simple gratitude for advice.
Cielle wanted to say more, to dig deeper, to offer more comfort, but when she looked at him, she saw that his heavy eyelids had finally given way completely. His breathing had become deep and even, his face—relaxed in sleep—looking like peaceful marble carved by a loving hand. She stayed there watching him, stunned by the serene, vulnerable beauty he radiated.
With a smile of infinite tenderness, Cielle leaned in and pressed a kiss as soft as a butterfly’s wing kiss to his cheek. “Rest, treasure,” she murmured against his skin. Then, with the same delicacy one uses to handle a fragile relic, she slipped out of bed, covered his exhausted body with a sheet, and left the room in silence, leaving him submerged in a restorative sleep that, perhaps for the first time in weeks, was not stained with loneliness.
The apartment had shifted in energy. From the charged, sensual atmosphere of the bedroom, it had transitioned into the calm, domestic warmth of the living room. Averly, now wrapped in a loose pajama set—shorts and an oversized t-shirt she’d probably stolen from some past boyfriend—was the very picture of absolute comfort. In one hand she held a juicy hamburger she’d just taken a massive bite of, and with the other she flipped through a fashion magazine. The irony couldn’t have been more delicious: the same woman who, moments ago, had devoured a man with her mouth was now devouring her dinner with equal enthusiasm. A marvelous woman full of contrasts.
The bedroom door opened and Cielle appeared, wrapped in a black silk robe that fell over her body like a dark river, accentuating every curve with serene elegance. She was the polar opposite of Averly’s carefree comfort: two different worlds, two sides of the same coin that complemented each other perfectly.
“Dinner got here that fast?” Cielle asked, her voice as soft as the silk she wore.
Averly nodded, swallowing her bite. “There are still chicken wings in the oven if you want some. And yeah, it came quick. You, on the other hand, took forever in there,” she added with a mischievous grin before taking another bite.
Cielle dropped onto the sofa beside her with a sigh that mixed exhaustion and satisfaction. She was quiet for a moment, staring into the space in front of them, before carefully asking, “Averly… what do you think of Taehyung?”
Averly lowered the magazine, chewing thoughtfully. Her analysis was as direct and practical as she was. “He’s an angel. Gorgeous, with a tenderness that’s not fake. Gentle even when grabbing a glass of water, I bet. And in bed…” She paused dramatically, a genuine spark of admiration in her eyes. “God, and considering how huge he is, he should be an asshole, but he’s not. Attentive, submissive… a total sweetheart.”
“Why do you ask?” Averly fixed her gaze on Cielle and didn’t miss the faint blush creeping up her friend’s neck. A slow, knowing smile spread across her face. “Oh, come on. Seriously? You like him?”
Cielle looked away, but couldn’t hide a shy smile. “It’s not… it’s not exactly that. It’s just… he’s different. I’d really love to get to know him. Outside of… this.”
Averly leaned toward her, her playful attitude giving way to surprising sincerity. “Then don’t let the chance slip away, Cielle. Seriously.” Her voice softened. “If this turns into something real, you know it doesn’t matter. We can stop the services. We’ve been doing this for two years, and it’s been good, but it’s not a life sentence.”
“Averly, it’s not that serious!” Cielle protested, though without much conviction.
“Why not? He’s the kind of guy women would kill to have by their side, and he literally fell into your lap. If something happens, I’ll support you. Just… if you two end up together, I’ll respect it. No jealousy, no drama.” The offer was genuine, a testament to the depth of their friendship.
Cielle gave her a gentle elbow nudge with her elbow, chuckling. “Stop joking.”
“Who’s joking?” Averly shrugged, finishing her burger. “I’m just saying think about it.” She stood up, stretching. “I’m getting the wings. Want me to bring you some?”
Cielle nodded, and as Averly headed to the kitchen, she leaned back on the sofa, resting her head on the warm spot her friend had just vacated. A deep sigh escaped her lips. “I’ll think about it,” she murmured to herself, while the image of Taehyung—vulnerable and beautiful, sleeping in her bed—remained etched in her mind, planting a seed of possibility in ground she had long believed barren.
Pairing: Elven Healer!Namjoon x Monsterhunter!Reader
Genre: Fantasy!AU, some Angst, the smallest hints of Romance, Smut
Warnings: themes of loss, wounds, growing tension, sub!Namjoon, Dom!Reader, very enthusiastic consent, he has the hugest kink for big strong women, this man is such a simp for her, sex in a hot spring, breast worship, oral sex (f.receiving), desperate fucking, these two are so touch starved omfg, penetrative sex, creampies, sloppy kisses, hair pulling (m.receiving), choking, face slapping, masochist!joon for the win, multiple orgsasm (f.receiving), creampies, strength & muscle kink, subby boy tears, wet Namjoon with long hair cause this needs a warning, these two are so mature and grown and they know exactly what they want, the ending is so <3
Wordcount: 12.5k | Minors DNI
a/n: fucking sub!joon in a cave under moonlight might actually be something i need to achieve in life nfngnnfgn besties this is so hot to me no joke fajsdfj i hope you are enjoying it as much as i do <3 looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this heheh
Namjoon circles the fire in search for signs of you. He finds a piece of paper on his pillow. Namjoon opens it with shaking hands.
I’m hunting. Don’t leave the cave.
He sighs in relief. So you did not leave him. He would have died without you, even if he hates to admit it after what you said. Namjoon settles on the soft sleeping mat, staring into the fire. Perhaps this is a good thing. Distance will do you and him well.
You never returned. Namjoon ate without you, he searched the entire cave two times without finding even one mushroom and he went to bed without you. Quite frankly, by the time it was time for bed his anger for you had ceased to exist and great worry had replaced it. What if the morgul finished you off? He worried until sleep dragged him into unconsciousness.
Heavy steps and grunts wake him the next morning. The fire has turned into ambers by now and sunlight enters the cave. He opens his eyes. You are back, dragging your heavy feet and holding your bleeding side.
Namjoon lifts his head in alarm, jumping to his feet a second later.
“Goddesses, ___! What happened to you?” he gasps, running to meet you in the middle.
You grab the arms he offers, leaning your weight on them.
“What the bloody fucks do you think happened? Morguls”, you get out through gritted teeth.
“Sit down over there. Sit. I, I need to clean the wound before it gets infected.”
You scoff in amusement, “I’ll sleep it off.”
“No, I need to clean it and patch it up.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“By fucking Vairë, ___! Just let me stitch you back together!” Namjoon explodes.
You stare at him with widened yet amused eyes.
“Morguls eat corpses. You cannot even imagine the bacteria they harvest under their claws, the diseases they carry in their saliva. Fucking sit down, shut up and let me bloody heal you!”
Your eyes soften, a chuckle leaves you.
“What?” Namjoon challenges.
“That’s the first time I’ve heard you curse. I thought you didn’t have it in you.”
“Yes…well…I worry, it slipped out.”
You chuckle, lifting your hands in defeat.
“Don’t hold back on my account. Over there you said?”
Namjoon follows you to the spot by the glowing ambers, “yes, uh yes. And take off your armour.”
“Alright then.”
He begins preparation while you undress. He runs to the cave entrance to fill a pot with snow, then runs back to the ambers, using them to turn the snow into boiling water.
“The bastard got me right where the plate ended. Fuck.” You take off your undershirt, wincing in discomfort.
“Did it bite you or scratch you?”
“Scratch. I put it down a moment later.”
“Goddesses ___, what were you thinking?”
“I’m a monster hunter, am I not?”
“This does not mean that you can fight a morgul for no reason”, Namjoon challenges, sterilising the surgical tools in the freshly boiling water.
“Aren’t you paying me for this exact reason?” you ask. “To take care of the morguls?”
“Yes, but-” His eyes find your bared chest and instantly avert it.
You do not miss the coy flash of colour washing over his cheeks. How interesting, a healer that gets red at the sight of breasts.
“But what?” you stress.
“But, you had no reason to hunt one. Move your arm, I need to assess the wound.”
“I had my reasons.”
“It better be bloody good ones.”
Four scratch marks, around fifteen centimetres in length, stretch down your side. They are around half a centimetre thick and around seven centimetres apart.
“By Vairë”, he murmurs.
“First scratch wound?” You are teasing him of course.
“At least one of such size. Hold still, I need to sterilise it first.”
“By wasting my good alcohol.”
“Do you have any other alcohol at hand? No? Then let me do my job.”
You chuckle, “go ahead.”
He opens the bottle of alcohol with his teeth, spitting the cork to the side.
“This will hurt a lot.”
“I know. This isn’t my first wound.”
He pours the alcohol. You grunt loudly, kicking the ground.
“Forgive me.”
“Worry not. Fuck, this never gets easier”, you grumble, instinctively trying to reach for your burning side.
He slaps your hand away.
“Don’t put your grimy fingers on it. I just cleaned it.”
“Forgive me”, you chuckle, studying his hands. “So you are going to sew me back up.”
“I have to. Otherwise it will never close up. It will get infected and this can cause many issues. Deadly ones even. Here, chew on this.” He holds up a brown root.
“What’s that?”
“Laudum root, it numbs pain.”
“Laudum root? Interesting. I only know its flower to be of use. We use it as an ingredient in our healing potions.”
You accept the root and start chewing it. It tastes like soil and slightly nutty.
“The flower is great against inflammation. I have accidentally discovered the effectiveness of its root after I ran out of flowers and only had the roots left”, Namjoon says, sterilising his hands as he waits for the medicine to work.
“Did you hope the effect would be the same?” you ask.
“Yes, but I was met with a numbing of the battered nerves instead. I tested it out on myself and then a few other patients. Its effectiveness was marvellous. If extracted and mixed into a cream it can even be applied topically on the affected area.”
“Do you do that often? Test out unfamiliar herbs on yourself?”
“Of course. I need to in the name of science. Besides, if it kills me, then so be it. I would never risk another person’s life.”
“This is both honourable and incredibly stupid.”
“No, what’s stupid is running out into the night to pick a fight with a morgul.”
You laugh with the root between your teeth. He meets your eyes.
“I mean it.”
“Oh, I believe you.” You take out the chewed-up root, inspecting it. “Sounds like you made quite the discovery. Did you write it down?”
“I did, but it is lost now. Somewhere out there. Goddesses, why did I bring the book with me? I am such a fool.”
“This book means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”
“It does. I know that it is just one of many, but every book is dear to me. So much of my research is lost. Forever.”
“Maybe we will find it again.”
“I doubt it, but thank you. I am starting, if you need more laudum root…”
“I’ll let you know. Don’t worry, I have a high pain tolerance.”
The needle pierces your skin for the first time and you do not flinch. As a matter of fact, you do not feel any discomfort.
“Was this also part of the hexer trials?” Namjoon asks in hopes of distracting you from the procedure. His hands are shaking. They never do. He tries to breathe through it.
“It was. Pain is a weakness. If you let it distract you, your enemy will take advantage of it. That is what they told us as comfort as they flogged us or beat us bloody.”
“This is cruel.”
“No, they were right. I didn’t get it back then, I thought them to be cruel. But they were right. Pain is weakness. It distracted me and…”
Namjoon lifts his eyes for a moment.
“Distracted you?”
“Hah”, you let out a breathy laugh, “fuck.”
“Forgive me, I shouldn’t pry.”
“No, it’s alright. It is just difficult to talk about.”
Namjoon averts his eyes to the wound, stitching it up most carefully. You don’t flinch, not even once. Perhaps it is the laudum root or perhaps your upbringing.
“I know folk say that hexer cannot love, that the mutations remove our emotions, but those rumours are wrong. I loved someone and lost them.”
“I am so sorry to hear this. What happened?”
“Monsters happened. I was young and reckless and thought that I could win every fight. They attacked us in the forest behind our house, one of them bit me. The pain of it distracted me, I stopped paying attention and they…killed them.”
“By Vairë, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. Don’t feel sorry for foolish me. It was my fault that they died.”
“No, it wasn’t. You are just a person, anyone would have been distracted by being bitten by a monster.”
“I am not just a person. I am a hexer, I should have been stronger.”
“Perhaps or perhaps there was nothing that you could have done differently to save them.”
“Perhaps”, you study his face, “I thank you for not pitying me. I dislike it when people begin to feel sorry for me because of what happened.”
“I understand how you feel.”
“You do?”
“I do. I lost my wife to the black cough. I wasn’t a healer yet when she got sick and every healer we went to told us to pray and say our goodbyes. They weren’t wrong, but these days I cannot help but feel angry. If they did more for her, she could still be alive.”
“I am sorry for your loss. Was it recent?”
“No, it was eighty years ago. My anger still feels fresh however. Does it make me a terrible widower? I do not grieve my wife these days, but I am still so angry at the healers.”
“I do not think it does. I lost my husband seventy years ago, but my grief for him has long passed. The anger for my own incompetence however remains.”
Your eyes meet.
“It is a cruel thing to know that their deaths were so unjust, that they could have been prevented.”
“It is”, you agree.
Namjoon finishes the stitches with a knot, cleaning them a second time with the alcohol.
“Do you miss your wife? I know you do not grieve for her anymore, but do you miss her?” you ask him.
“Of course I do. She is the woman whom I loved first and swore loyalty to. She was intelligent, witty and always knew how to make my heart race. Of course I miss her from time to time.”
“She sounds delightful.”
“She was. She really was. And you? Do you miss your husband?”
“From time to time. He was a kind man, loyal and devoted. He was loving and made me laugh. I miss him, of course I do.”
“He sounds lovely.”
“He was, he really was.”
You exchange a knowing smile.
“So, I closed the wound.”
“Is it already done?”
“It is.”
“And I didn’t feel a thing. As a matter of fact, I do not feel the wound at all. This is an interesting root.”
“Isn’t it? I want to see what happens if I extract the essences and mix it with alcohol. Perhaps it can serve as a medicine with a long shelf life.”
“You would need this for that, wouldn’t you? To note everything down”, you say and reach for your jacket. You pull out his book from the inside pocket.
“My book?” Namjoon gasps, reaching for it. “How? Why? Where? W-what I? How is it here?” He stutters, meeting your eyes.
“I told you that I had my reasons”, you say and stand up, strutting to your bag for a new shirt.
“Wait, let me wrap the wound first.”
“Go ahead then”, you allow him with a slight chuckle.
Namjoon begins working, but his mind is only thinking of one thing.
“I don’t understand. Why would you go back for it?”
“Because it matters to you and you are my client. I cannot leave a bad impression and risk you bad mouthing me to people.”
He scoffs, “I wouldn’t have done so.”
“Well, now I guaranteed it.”
You and he laugh softly, eyes finding the others afterwards. For just a small moment the cave seemed warmer and the fire brighter.
“I am sorry for what I said. I was taught not to be attached to earthly possessions and we were running from a morgul. I spoke out of anger when I said that people wouldn’t read it.”
Namjoon looks at his hands coyly, shaking his head.
“There is no need to apologise. I understand why you did what you did. We needed to run quick and I almost got us killed. This isn’t a leisurely wandering holiday but an expedition in dangerous lands. Going back for a mere book would have been foolish. As we now know”, he says and puts his hand on your bandaged wound in emphasis.
You scoff in amusement.
“I have you to patch me up, haven’t I?” you say and kneel down to look for a new shirt.
“I guess. For now.”
“Is this a threat?”
“No, this is…yes, perhaps I was trying to threaten you into being less reckless.”
You laugh, looking at him over your shoulder.
He is by the fire, washing his hands and cleaning the tools. He meets your gaze briefly.
“What?”
“You are very pleasant company.”
Namjoon flusters, “am I? You called me a yapping nuisance last night.”
“Last night’s me was an angry fool. I wouldn’t pay her any mind if I were you.”
“I, uhm, well thank you then. You aren’t very unpleasant yourself.”
“Mhm.”
“And I thank you for bringing back my book. You didn’t have to, but you did. So thank you.”
“Of course. It was my duty after what I said.”
Your eyes meet yet again and linger. Perhaps Namjoon is imagining things, but your gaze seems full of fondness. You clear your throat loudly and look away.
“Have you found them?” you ask, gesturing at the cave.
He knows that you speak of the mushrooms.
“No, I haven’t. This cave is empty. Somebody must have plucked them already.”
“So we will go to the next one.”
“But this adds another two days of travel and we do not have our elks anymore.”
“Without the mushrooms, your people are already dead. I won’t allow that, so let’s go. We should start packing now.”
“You should most definitely rest some more.”
“I’m fine. I’ve had worse.”
“As your healer-”
You turn. He is closer to you than you anticipated, but it is already too late to turn back. You just have to let him taste your words if you wanted to or not. Namjoon seems rather eager to do so, eyes flitting between your lips and your eyes.
“So you are my healer now?” you speak in a lowered voice, looking at his lips afterwards.
“I just meant that- hah” He steps back with flushed cheeks, clearing his throat. “Either way, as a healer, I would suggest rest.”
“Thanks, I’ll rest in our next camp. This area is still drenched in the morgul’s stench keeping other morguls away for now. If we wait for too long, the wind is going to carry it away and others will know that this is a territory without a master.”
“I see. I didn’t know this, thank you for educating me. I will start packing right away.”
He offers to carry your stuff, which you decline. You are barely hurting and you feel strong. He still manages to convince you to at least give him your sleeping roll.
He fixes it on his shoulder, following you as you lead the way through the snow. There are no clouds on the sky today, but the air is still freezing cold.
In the far distance further north, the mountains the journey leads to next are calling. Namjoon prays to Vairë the Willow Mother and goddess of nature that the journey will not be in vain. He cannot allow another failure.
You and he have walked around two hours when a familiar bellowing stills your steps. The second elk, sole survivor of the morgul attack, runs to you and him.
“No way. Ethel, you survived!” Namjoon yells, running to the elk. He drops all his bags, falling around the elk’s neck.
“Oh how happy I am to see you. You must have been so scared all alone with morguls on the hunt.”
The elk lets him hug her, bellowing softly.
You pick up after Namjoon, closing the distance.
“Welcome back, girl”, you say, giving the elk a firm pat on the shoulder. “What a shame that we couldn’t keep the both of you safe.”
“Yes, oh what a shame. Poor Ell, you poor animal.”
While Namjoon grieves the loss of the elk, you load the bags onto Ethel. You climb atop the animal, nudging Namjoon with your foot.
“Yes?”
“Get up here. We cannot waste time.”
“Are you quite certain?”
“Yes.” You scoot back. “Go on.”
Namjoon swallows down his nerves and climbs atop the elk. His hips are nestled into your crotch, your thighs rub against his and your chest presses into his back. You reach to the front, giving the reigns a soft shake.
Ethel continues the travel, swaying from side to side. All Namjoon can concentrate on is the feeling of your body against his’. It confuses him as much as it flusters him.
“So we, uhm, are sharing an elk.”
“Your observations seem correct.”
“Do you have enough space?”
“Plenty.”
“Alright, yes that’s good. Mhm good”, he babbles and falls silent because his mind entirely blanks on what to say next.
You give him a glance, one he does not see. What is his problem all of a sudden?
“Do you have enough space?” you ask.
“Me? Oh yes. Yes, yes of course. Plenty”, he stutters, clearing his throat loudly. “What a sunny day, isn’t it?”
“Mhm, you are correct.”
“The journey will be quicker with Ethel, won’t it?”
“I assume so, yes.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“Where were you all night? I know you fought a morgul for some time, but surely this couldn’t have taken all night.”
“I took watch outside and decided to retrieve your book after a while. I found the morgul’s trail halfway back, then spent some hours chasing it down and killing it. The walk back took a little longer for reasons known to you.”
“So you are telling me that it didn’t attack you? You actually hunted it?”
“It killed Ell, didn’t it?”
“It did, but. Nevermind. I am glad that you returned.”
“Mhm, I’m sure that you are”, you say and rest your balled hands on his thighs.
Namjoon gasps, exhaling shakily. He squirms between your legs, dragging an amused smirk to your lips.
Dawn is kissing the sky when you finally reach your destination. You take Ethel into the cave with you.
“Why is it that we are safe in these caves? There is nothing stopping a morgul from entering and yet last night, it seemed as if it was practically scared of it”, Namjoon asks, scanning his eyes over the cave walls in search of mushrooms.
“Their bodies aren’t made to survive in warmer temperatures. Their skins would blister and peel off in these temperatures. They also hate the feeling of soil on their feet.”
“Interesting. This explains why we do not have them beyond the Great Wall. They would die.”
“Mhm.”
“Then we can be grateful for these caves and hopefully this one will have mushrooms.”
“We will just go to the next one of it doesn’t.”
“As much as I like your enthusiasm, I cannot afford more added days of travel. My village needs me.”
You light two torches, handing him one.
“Then we better get searching.”
He accepts the torch, looking at you just a little too long. Your willingness to help surprises him constantly. He had such a terribly false image of hexers.
“Thank you for helping me.”
“Sure. It must be difficult to carry such a burden alone.”
“It is. It is very difficult. My apprentice is currently helping the people, but I know that she is only dragging out the inevitable. I have to return with the mushrooms no matter what.”
“And you will. Let’s split up. I search the right side, you search the left side.”
“Yes, thank you. Truly, thank you.”
The cave is quite assessable. It does not take a lot of time to traverse and search it. You and he meet in the middle.
“And?” he asks.
“Nothing. You?”
“Nothing.” He sinks down, resting his head on his knees. “Absolutely nothing. Am I hopeless? Have I finally found my answer?”
“We’ll just go to the next one.”
“Have you not heard what I said this morning? I cannot afford more days of travel. My apprentice will run out of medicine, the sickness will spread and I will…I am going to fail my people”, his voice trembles at the end.
“No, you will not. You shouldn’t give up hope.”
“Well, I have. I-I imagined caves and caves filled with mushrooms. I thought that this would be easy, that this would be the one thing which wouldn’t fail me on my quest. I bloody thought that there would be mushrooms.” He balls his hands to fists. “The one thing which wasn’t to fail…failed.”
Namjoon drops his head, sniffling loudly.
You lower yourself, exhaling deeply.
“I am sorry that I dragged you into this”, he whispers shakily. “You can keep the coin of course, after all you kept me safe till now. Although I wish you hadn’t.”
“Hey now, don’t talk like this. Not everything is lost yet.”
“Give it up. It’s useless.” He pulls his knees closer to his face, hugging his own legs. “I’ve failed them. I killed my people”, he chokes out, shoulders beginning to shake.
“I won’t hear any of this. I’m not marching seven days in freezing weather just to give up. You hear me? You are not to give up.”
He stays unresponsive, borrowing grief from a future which has not yet come true.
You give up with a sigh and stand back up. He might be wilting away in sorrow, but not you. You pick up your torch and begin your search anew.
Namjoon knows that you are searching again, but he cannot move out of this state. He is trapped in his own body. How will he tell his people? How will he ever go on? How will he call himself a healer when he failed to do his job?
“Namjoon.”
He hears your voice, but cannot answer you. He cannot face you. He feels so ashamed.
“Namjoon, look here. Do you see this?”
He lifts his head. You are facing the wall, touching it.
“What is it?” he croaks.
“The wall here is cracked.”
“And? Stone moves and cracks. What is so special about a damned cracked wall?” he lowers his head again.
“I can feel the air moving.”
“And?”
“Air flow means that there is something behind this stone.”
His head shoots up once more. “Are you certain?”
“More than certain. And look, runes.”
“Runes?”
“Feel them.”
Namjoon stumbles to his feet, running to you as fast as possible. He slams his hands on the wall.
“You are right! There are runes on this stone! Light, I-I need light.”
You shine the torch on them. Namjoon laughs breathily,
“I cannot believe it. This is Numerin, ancient Elvish. The-the-the language of my ancestors”, he stutters, barely getting his words out.
“Can you read it?” you ask, feeling hopeful as well.
“Yes! Yes, with great difficulty but yes I can read it. It says that, that those who walk the path of good may enter.”
“So are we not walking this supposed right path or why are we still here?”
“No, but this is a riddle. I have read of it.” He takes out his book, mumbling to himself as he looks for the solution. It takes him a good while until suddenly he gasps.
“Found it?”
“Hopefully.”
Namjoon steps closer to the stone and places his hands on it.
“You do the same”, he tells you.
You place your hands next to his.
He closes his eyes and begins to speak in Numerin. It leaves his tongue slowly, but you trust that he knows what he is doing.
The runes and cracks begin to glow, a low rumble shakes the ground. It becomes stronger and stronger until suddenly it stops.
Your arms sink into the stone as if it were liquid. He laughs breathily, searching for your eyes.
“I did it!”
“It seems so.”
“Come, follow me. The stone knows that we are friends.”
“After this, I can say that I’ve seen everything”, you say and place your hand on his shoulder so you would not lose him as you and he cross the magical wall to another cave.
A small opening in the ceiling lets in the light of the moon, illuminating the entire cave in blue light. The air is warm and damp, the sound of water droplets constantly hitting the ground can be heard. Thick, green moss grows on the walls and different species of moss and ferns cover the ground. A waterfall of clear glacier water trickles into a natural stream. Delicate flowers grow along the bed. The stream ends in a spacious pool of steaming hot water, which explains the warm climate of this cave.
“Correction: now I have seen everything”, you murmur, gazing in awe. You do not find a lot of beauty in life, but this right here is undeniably beautiful.
“My ancestors must have used the spell to protect it. This is exactly how these caves were described in my books. This is what I imagined. I cannot believe that we have found this place”, Namjoon whispers, for he fears that if he spoke any louder it would be dishonourable for the place.
“I have to say, it’s quite nice.”
“It is more than nice. It is beautiful.”
“And isn’t this your mushroom?” you ask, pointing at a group of blue mushrooms growing under some ferns.
“By Vairë, you found them!”
Namjoon falls to his knees before them, sobbing loudly.
“My village is saved. I did it.” He buries his face in his hands. “We truly did it.”
Feeling for him, you close the distance and pat the crown of his head wordlessly. Namjoon lets you share in his emotional moment, crying tears of relief and happiness. He had already given up hope, imagining how it would have been to return empty handed and watch his people die.
You have given him back hope.
“If it wasn’t for you, my people would already be dead.” He looks up at you with tears in his eyes. “Thank you so much. I thank you”, he chokes out, bowing down to rest his forehead on your feet. “Thank you, truly thank you.”
“You don’t have to do all that.”
“I do. I am forever in your debt, truly.”
“Now hold your gratitude. I still have to get you back in one piece.”
“I know that you will”, he says and turns to the mushrooms, beginning to harvest them. “They’re saved. I cannot believe it.”
“Shouldn’t you wait with plucking them?”
“No, I have to smoke them overnight. Only then, they will release their active agents. I will build the fire outside and then collect the finished mushrooms tomorrow morning.”
“I see.”
He stands up, clasping the solution to all his problems tightly in his trembling hands.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to build a fire.”
“Suit yourself. I’m setting up camp here. I might go to sleep soon.”
“Yes, sleep well and thank you. Truly.”
“Don’t mention it”, you dismiss him, trying your hardest not to stare at his face for too long. It flushes when he is excited.
Namjoon takes at least an hour to build the fire. He expects you to sleep already when he returns to the secret cave, but is met with another view. You are bathing in the hot spring. You placed your armour by your sleeping mat and the swords next to the edge of the natural pool. The moonlight illuminates the cave enough that Namjoon sees you clearly. You have your back turned to him, lost in deep thought.
He knows it to be improper, but Namjoon still uses the moment to study you. Your back and arms are sculpted, covered in scars. The scars are deep and clearly marks of past encounters with the most gruesome of monsters. Namjoon cannot stop staring, imagining all the battles you must have fought and wondering how you managed to heal enough to keep going.
He also cannot deny that the view of you excites him. You are so strong and feminine in your own mesmerising way. He is so terribly attracted to you, but he tries not to think of it. How rude to even insinuate that he would be so un-mannerly with you.
“I know that you are here.”
“Oh. What? How?”
“I can hear and smell better than a normal person, remember?” You say and turn. You lower yourself deeper into the water so your breasts are covered.
Namjoon flusters under your intense gaze. Perhaps he has truly gone mad, but it feels as if you were trying to imagine what lies beneath his clothing.
“The water’s warm, you know? Why don’t you come and join me?” you offer.
“What about your wound? Soaking it in water is a terrible thing to do so soon after surgery.”
“The waters are making it better. Join me and have a look.”
“I wouldn’t want to infiltrate your space.”
“You aren’t. You must be cold.”
He definitely is. The cave outside is freezing in comparison to this little paradise. The cold of it is still in his bones.
“Is it truly alright of me?” he asks.
“Yes”, you show him your version of a welcoming smile and scoot to the side of the natural pool. Then you turn, giving him privacy.
Namjoon undresses with a racing heart. He is nervous, fearing that his body will betray him and make you uncomfortable. He cannot be a pervert. He has to be mannerly.
Namjoon steps into the warm water, sinking in quickly to hide himself. He lets out a deep sigh, making you look at him.
“And?”
“It is so warm. My cold bones needed it.”
“See? I know what’s best for you”, you say, truly not making it easier for him.
You take a deep breath and stand up. The water ripples off your breasts and sculpted stomach. Namjoon looks at the ceiling of the cave, hating his heart for palpitating.
“Well? Are you going to check?” you stress.
“Of course, I am. Ahem. Excuse me”, Namjoon says, looking at your side with burning cheeks.
The stitches have almost closed up completely. On the smaller parts, they already did.
“By Vairë. They are actively closing.”
“It seems so. Must be more of your ancient elven magic.”
“It makes so much sense. Ice peel gain their healing powers because of the water they consume. Of course the waters in this cave are magical.”
You lower yourself into the water, “your people were great. Did you learn all this through your books?”
“I did. Oh goddesses, I feel guilty being in these waters. What if we pollute them?”
“Should have thought that before joining me, aye?”
He flusters.
“Relax. As long as you don’t pour toxins into it, I don’t see why our bodies would spoil it. Besides, there must be circulation, otherwise the stream would force it to overflow.”
“Right.”
You wade to the edge and pick up the sponge, offering it to him on your palm.
“Here. If you wish to clean yourself.”
“Thank you”, he accepts the sponge with his eyes lowered politely.
You scan your eyes over him. He interests you. You cannot deny it any longer. He is a very handsome man and wonderful company. And tonight ended on such a hopeful, happy note that you feel more intent on following your desires.
You know what you were doing when you invited him to bathe with you. You would have respected it if he denied you, but he didn’t and, subconsciously or not, gave you his answer with it.
This pretty elf man wants to be seduced.
“Have you made your smoking…thing?” you ask him, following his hand with your eyes as it drags the sponge over his body. His skin is so untainted.
“I have. My mother taught me how to and how to build a self-sustaining fire. I will check on it later, but it should work just as intended.”
“You must feel relieved.”
“Beyond any sort of imagination. I already gave up hope.”
“I told you that you mustn’t.”
“That you did. I should have believed you.”
“Whether you believed me or not doesn’t matter anymore. I turned out to be right”, you joke, hoping that he will enjoy it.
He laughs deeply, scrunching his eyes. How utterly alluring his voice sounds.
“You did. I am glad that you did”, he says, meeting your eyes and keeping up the connection just a little bit too long for it to be incidental.
You nod your head, fighting the urge to look at his lips.
“What will you do first after you have made the medicine and healed your village?” you ask.
“Probably run through the streets screaming and singing.”
You scoff, “really?”
“Maybe. Honestly? Merely having these mushrooms makes me so excited already that I want to scream.”
“Yes? Are you a screamer?”
Namjoon drops the sponge in the water, spending the next few moments fishing for it rather clumsily.
“I, uh. So-sorry?”
“I was just wondering if you tend to scream a lot.”
“Oh. Uhm. Hah. It depends. I scream when I get excited. Not this kind of excited! I, uhm”, he turns away, splashing water onto his face.
You chuckle, “forgive me, I’m only messing with you.”
“I knew that.”
“Did you?”
“Does it matter?”
“No, not really”, you say and pick up the sponge. You wade closer to him, sitting down on the natural bench and handing him the sponge.
Namjoon accepts it, breathing quickly when your fingers touch.
“You have to tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable”, you say.
He meets your gaze confidently, “I’m not uncomfortable. Not in the slightest.”
“Yes? Unlike with Lady Duvallet?”
He lowers his eyes bashfully, “yes, unlike with her.”
You relax in the water, scanning your eyes up and down his exposed chest. His nipples are slightly hardened from the difference in temperatures. He has surprisingly big pecs for someone of his profession.
“I’m delighted to hear that”, you say, finally pulling your hand back. It tingles where you touched.
He chuckles shyly, lowering himself in the water. He cannot look away from you. You are so close to him and seem so mesmerised.
“Have you done your back already?” he offers bashfully.
“I haven’t.”
“Do you wish me to?”
You turn your back to him wordlessly. Your gesture may have been without words, but Namjoon understands you completely. He knows what you are currently doing and he also knows how his actions only help to evolve this situation further.
He stands up, towering over you in this position. Your neck seems so tender in comparison to your otherwise scarred skin. He places his left hand on your shoulder, feeling your muscles tense and relax. With a racing heart, he guides the sponge over your skin while his left hand massages your tense muscles.
“You must have fought many monsters”, he speaks in a low voice.
“I have. It’s been my life for…fuck, honestly for too long.”
“Do you ever dream of retiring?”
“Dreams? Retiring?” You laugh. “These two words are foreign to hexer. The only way we retire is by meeting a monster better than us. We don’t dream, we lose and die.”
“It does not have to be this way. You can just simply stop one day.”
“Tch, if it only was this easy.”
“I hope that it will be one day. I do not wish for you to retire by getting killed.”
He brings a smile to your lips. For a small speck in time, you feel hopeful and filled with dreams. Is this how you made him feel when you found this cave? If you did, then it is nice. Very nice.
Namjoon guides the sponge down your right arm, dancing his left hand beside it. Perhaps he is imagining it, but your body practically seems to melt under his touch. You must be under so much tension constantly. He begins to massage you with more intent, hoping that you can enjoy it.
You do. You enjoy it, fighting the urge to close your eyes. It has been terribly long since you experienced such a relaxing moment.
“I know that you will call me naive again, but dream with me for a moment. What would you do if you could retire?” he fills the silence.
“Tch, really?”
“Yes, really. Just for a moment, dream.”
“Fine.” You take a deep breath. “I would live a simple life in a small village far away from any big city. I’d have a garden where I’d grow my own food, I’d help around the village where I can and at night I would sleep in an actual bed.”
“This sounds like a wonderful dream. Why not chase it?”
He guides the sponge to your left arm, making you melt even more.
“Because it isn’t meant to be mine.”
“Well, if you look at it with such a mindset of course it won’t ever be yours. It sounds to me as if you have already given up without ever having tried.”
“Tch”, you glance at him, “this is ridiculous. Dreams will kill you in the end.”
“No, they won’t. Dreaming and hoping is what keeps us alive. Having nothing to work towards, nothing to look forward to or dream about is what kills you. Perhaps not physically, but it is a death sentence nonetheless.”
He drags a second smile out of you.
“You are annoyingly optimistic again. I’m glad.”
He lowers his eyes bashfully, cheeks dimpling as he chuckles. You nudge his chest with your shoulder, skin tingling when his fingers instinctively close around your arms.
“Thank you, I needed this”, you say.
“I…of course.”
You turn to face him, stealing the sponge out of his hand.
“May I return the favour?”
Namjoon turns his back to you, lowering himself into the water. You stand up and place your hands on his shoulders. He tenses up, relaxing with a shaky exhale.
Despite his occupation, he is an impressively built man. His back carries muscles and his arms are sculpted. And yet something about him feels so fragile and tender. It makes you want to treat him gently. Which is something you do not do often. Truth be told, you are quite nervous about it.
“Is this pressure comfortable for you?”
“More than comfortable. Thank you.”
“I had dreams once, you know. I wasn’t always the lifeless hexer.”
“I hope I didn’t offend you.”
“Not at all. I appreciate your words.”
You circle the sponge down his spine, feeling him shiver.
“Well then, I’m glad. What were your dreams?” he asks.
“The same as right now, but with my late husband.”
“Oh. I see. Forgive me for asking.”
“No, I don’t mind.”
You guide the sponge up his spine, tracing his neck. Namjoon sighs, rolling his head to the side. You desire to kiss his neck, to feel him shiver and hear him sigh again.
“It was nice to dream again, even if it was only for a moment”, you confess.
“So you truly think that this life is not meant for you?”
You scoff breathily, “I’ll give you my answer once we have crossed the Great Wall and have actual soil under our feet again.”
He laughs.
“Fair enough. To think that we have to do all of this again. All those nights shivering away in shrubs. Awful.”
“I agree.”
You circle him, guiding the sponge to his pecs. Namjoon’s eyes flit to your breasts. You feel his chest rise and sink in a shaky breath. His lips look so tempting up close.
“You don’t mind, do you? You are a healer after all”, you whisper, presenting yourself with a slight arch of your back.
“Hah! I am indeed.” He meets your eyes. His pupils are dilated. “But then, this isn’t why you are so comfortable with me, is it?”
“You might have figured me out.”
You and he chuckle.
You sink back into the water. The sponge floats in the water, forgotten and abandoned.
“Have you been able to be intimate with another after your wives’ death?” you ask him.
He widens his eyes at your blunt question.
“If you don’t mind me asking.”
“I don’t. I tried to, but I couldn’t.”
“Yes, me neither.”
Namjoon nods his head in understanding. The rippling water reflects the shine of the moon onto his skin. You wish to kiss the spots.
“Do you miss it?” you ask.
He meets your curious eyes with just as much curiosity.
“In general”, you add.
“I believe…yes, sometimes I really miss it. It has been a very long time.”
“I miss it too.”
Namjoon gulps. So he wasn’t imagining things. There is a pull between you and him and he can barely fight it.
“It has been a very long time for me too.”
“I can imagine.”
“Yes, indeed.”
You look at his lips, “I miss it right now”, you purr.
“I see…I miss it too”, he breathes, looking at your lips.
The pull wins. You and Namjoon close the distance at the same time, meeting in the middle to share a kiss.
Chaste and shy at first. Like two teenagers kissing for the first time. It feels exciting to hold his face.
“Have I misunderstood?” you ask, keeping close.
“Not in the slightest”, he assures you, kissing you again.
You purr and wrap your muscular arms around him, squeezing him to your body. Namjoon mewls happily, rolling his hips against you. To feel another’s skin again is so nice.
“Fuck. Namjoon”, you get out, tasting his moan as you hands begin to roam his torso. How soft his skin is, how incredibly soft.
Namjoon is dizzy. Your hands are calloused yet your touch is gentle. Well, at least as gentle as your rough life taught you. He enjoys it. Being grabbed, kneaded and claimed sends sparks through his veins.
He has to wrap his legs round your waist under the water, hooking his arms behind your head as his lips dance with yours desperately. You growl, rolling your hips up instinctively. Your touch is possessive.
He feels seventy years younger again. Giddy and dizzy and insanely turned on.
You hold him under his bottom, pressing him close to you. He isn’t heavy, his skin is so soft against yours. His lips are just as soft, dancing with yours desperately.
It would be so nice if it wasn’t for the sharp pain on your side.
“Fuck”, you press out, having to drop him.
“What’s the matter?”
“My side. I can’t strain it for too long.”
“You shouldn’t. Sit down. Sit. Let me do most of it”, he pushes you down onto the stone, making you chuckle. Worry is written all over his face. “Did they rip open again? Describe your pain to me.”
You take his hands, calming down his endless fumbling by kissing his knuckles. It shakes the breath he releases.
“I’m fine.” You stub his knuckles with your nose then meet his eyes. “It’s just taking a little longer for the waters to fix the inner layers. My muscles hurt.”
“I see. Then you definitely shouldn’t strain them until the magic worked.” He pulls your hands close, resting his chin on them just to beg. “May I serve you, please?”
Your lips curl into a fond smile, “of course.”
“How far do you want me to go?”
“All the way.” You drag him close by his hips, looking up at him with fond, lustful eyes. “You are a delight, Namjoon.”
His eyes find yours. Submission stares back at you. Confident submission. He places his hands on your shoulders, lowering his lips to your neck. You stop him, purring softly when Namjoon licks the finger your press against his lips. You are so close to him, his kiss is within reach. The pull is addictive and natural.
“Allow me a taste first”, you tell him, smiling up at him seductively.
Namjoon obeys you, straightening his back to present his body to you.
“What a good boy you are”, you rasp and connect your tongue with his lower stomach to drag it up to his navel. Namjoon bites his lip, stomach rippling and cock throbbing. You are so close to where he needs you most, riling him up when you dance your tongue to his chest instead. You flick your tongue over his perky nipples, purring contently.
The grip on his waist is demanding yet gentle, guiding him so your knee slips between his legs.
His knees buckle. You lift your leg to apply pressure on his sensitive balls, showing his body how to move. He follows your clear instruction, grasping your strong upper arms for support.
It feels so good. Your muscular thigh tenses under him, your skin is so soft and you angle his hips so his rim would be stimulated as well. Namjoon imagined a dozen different ways of how his night would end, but not like this. Not so pleasurable.
“So delicious”, you rasp, giving his nipple one last flick before smiling at him.
He retorts it shyly and lowers his lips to your jawline. “Mhhhm”, you let out, rolling your head to the side. His lips feel amazing.
“Guide me if I do terribly. I want this to be amazing for you.”
“I am so touch-starved, anything you do is amazing.”
He chuckles, following it up with a curse. He sits down on your lap, moaning deeply when you grab his waist. He rocks his hips back and forth as his starving lips explore your neck. He definitely must have done this before. Only a man who knows the delights of sitting on a woman’s lap can move his hips in such ways.
It wouldn’t be unlikely. He was married after all and traditions around marital duties for men haven’t changed much. This pretty man is definitely not unfamiliar with being fucked.
You rest your hands on his bottom, making him moan almost embarrassingly high. He changes sides of your neck, blessing you with eager kisses and submissive sounds.
“You are doing so well”, you purr lazily, enjoying yourself entirely.
This man is truly a surprise for you. In a good way. When you first met him, you never would have figured just how well you fit together. He is such pleasant company, highly intelligent and witty, empathetic and open-minded and most of all: mature. You have been on this continent for too long to find immaturity attractive. Namjoon is truly a pleasant surprise and a highly pleasurable one.
“How good you are…”
He gathers your breasts and explores the unknown territory with such skilled enthusiasm that you genuinely have to arch your back. He arches his as well, sticking out his ass in order to reach you comfortably. He isn’t unfamiliar with this position, purring against your skin when your fingers wander further down to his buttocks and squeeze.
Namjoon mewls, thanking you by licking your soft breasts.
“Goddesses”, you get out, rolling your head back. You knew that your chest was sensitive, but you forgot just how much. Sparks course through you each time he flicks his tongue over your nipples. Tingles run down your spine each time he licks your skin. Magical warmth gathers between your legs because of his noises.
“Namjoon, fuck yes.”
Namjoon purrs, looking up at you as best as the position allows him. Your head is tilted back, your neck is exposed sinfully and your lips are parted.
Namjoon feels the long-awaited tingle of submission in his stomach. He really missed serving. Especially such a beautiful and strong woman as you. Your strength, your resilience, your empathy and kindness surprised him most positively, capturing him entirely.
He craves to know every inch of you and hungers to learn how pleasure shows itself on you.
He slips off your lap and dives into the water.
“Nam-”
His mouth connects with your cunt.
“-joon!” You grab his head underwater, hips thrusting against his face. You expected everything but this. “Fucking..argh.”
Namjoon hums, grasping your hips as he buries himself deeper. The water washes away any trace of your taste, making him hungrier and hungrier. Oh truly, he is a man starved. Starved for pleasure, starved for serving and most of all starved for cunt. It has been too long. In more ways than one. He has been under the water for too long.
Namjoon dives up with a gasp for air, standing up in the shallow pool. The water reaches him right under his navel, pearling off his body. His chest heaves up and down quickly, his eyes are half-lidded and entirely focused on you.
You meet his intensity, panting quickly. This is a wordless conversation and you both speak it perfectly.
You grab the back of his neck, he draws closer, you sit down on the edge of the pool and push him between your legs while Namjoon falls before you willingly. It happens simultaneously like a perfectly coordinated dance.
Namjoon grasps your hips and moans, wrapping his puffy lips around your clit to worship her as if she was a goddess.
“Namjoon”, you moan his name loudly, burying your left hand in his wet hair. You lean back on your right hand, arching your back. Your legs close around his head, keeping him a willing hostage.
This is violent in a sense. Nothing about this is gentle. Neither you with how you trap him nor him with how he feasts on your cunt. This is the shared act of two people starved of pleasure, of connection and carnal sin. It is done with urgency and desperation and no decorum.
You hump his face just as much as he manhandles your cunt with his mouth.
And it is glorious.
The caves sings in your shared song of pleasure. Namjoon’s deep, guttural growls, your ecstatic moans, ripples of water and wet slurping as he drinks your sweet pleasure.
“By the goddesses, I urge you not to stop. Ah!”
Namjoon couldn’t stop even if you wanted him to. He is hostage to the feast, incapable of gaining back control. You taste so good. It is as if he was consuming paradise. He buries his tongue in your trembling cunt, having to crane his neck for it. Like this, he opens his eyes to gaze at the woman who finally allows him to want pleasure again. Who made him want connection and intimacy.
You find his submissive gaze instinctively, running your calloused hand over his forehead and along the crown of his head. Over and over again, making him shiver.
“Good boy.”
Namjoon moans upon being stared at with such carnal hunger, curling his tongue inside you.
“Urgh”, your face scrunches attractively, “this is teasing, give me your fingers right now or I will lose it.”
Whatever you need, Namjoon wants to grant it to you. He lifts his head, using the moment to breathe. Your legs slip from his shoulders like this. You prop them up on the stone, exposing yourself confidently. And you have every right to feel this way. Your cunt is beautiful in the most sinful of ways. Namjoon’s cock throbs at the view, desiring nothing more than to fill her.
Not yet.
He connects his two longest fingers with your cunt and pushes inside.
“Yes”, you growl, falling onto your back and grabbing him by his head to pull him onto your clit.
Namjoon squeezes his eyes shut, moaning loudly. The way you manhandle him fills him with the greatest pleasure. He wants to serve you so much better, wants to help you touch the stars and find enlightenment.
He begins pumping his fingers into you in a sloppy, hard rhythm, curling them whenever he is the deepest. You produce the most blissed out of noises because of it, twisting his hair.
And while he fucks your cunt, his tongue and lips worship your clit as if they needed it to survive. Perhaps he does in this little moment. Perhaps he truly needs you in your most bared state because he feels bared himself. Serving a beautiful woman is so fulfilling, Namjoon feels close to tears in ecstasy. He missed this so much.
He picks up speed, pounding your willing cunt as if she owed him. He knows exactly how to curl his fingers.
“By the fucking goddesses. Urgh!” You kick the stone, lifting your hips off of it a second later. “Don’t stop! Don’t stop! Don’t! Urgh! Stop!”
This is it. The crescendo you have been receiving from only yourself for decades. It is finally time. Somebody else is giving it to you and you have forgotten just how much more intense it feels.
You curl your toes, grasping the edge of the pool with your right hand while your left twists his hair to the point of causing pain.
Namjoon enjoys it, knowing exactly what it meant. He helps you out even more, dancing his left hand along your torso until he can play with your breasts. He does it with little tenderness, but a lot of respect.
“Namjoon!”
His name echoes through the cave as he makes you climax. Curses so graphic that they will not be written down follow as you ride on paradisiacal levels of pleasure.
Namjoon helps you ride it out, offering you his face to hump and fuck and grind against until you drop in satisfaction, pushing him away.
He listens well, satisfying his hunger by licking his creamed fingers.
“Fucking hells, what in the ever loving fuck?” You sit up.
Namjoon meets your dazed eyes.
“I hope I am not overstepping, but your wife was a very lucky woman.”
Namjoon flusters, “was she?”
“Yes”, you climb into the water, claiming him with your hands on the nape of his neck. Namjoon gazes at you submissively, placing his hands on your hips. Your hands are restless, your body seeks him instinctively.
“I want to fuck you until you scream”, you lull, letting him taste the words. Namjoon’s head turns, it aches not to be inside you.
“You aren’t sated?” he asks more for himself than for you.
“You were wondeful, but I am greedy”, you tug on his lower lip with your teeth, making him keen and chase you, “the greediest woman you will ever know. I want to have all of you.”
Namjoon gulps, taking just a little too long to respond for your taste.
“Unless you do not wish to-”
“No, I do. I do. I just…forgive me, I haven’t taken my preventative medicine in ages and I wouldn’t want to impose a child on you.”
It is unofficial law on the continent that men take very meticulous and cautious measures with birth control. There is oral medicine, vaccines or certain metal spirals inserted into their sperm canals through the urethra to numb their sperm so that women can enjoy them without having to worry about pregnancies. As a matter of fact, it is asked of men as an unspoken show of manners that they do not burden the women with preventative measures, instead they alone should carry the burden. The richer can afford painless methods such as fertility spells, while the less better off use the previous described methods. Most of the men grew up with this rule and live by it without complaint despite the discomfort most of these measures bring because this is what society expects of them.
You never really cared about this rule for a very specific reason.
“I don’t care. My mutations made me sterile and I cannot catch mortal illnesses nor spread them.”
“I see”, Namjoon exhales in relief and draws closer, letting you feel his words against your lips, “please fuck me then.”
You smile, “with the greatest pleasure.”
You push at his chest, making him fall on the stone bench, and climb his lap. Namjoon places his hands on your hips, looking up at you submissively. You take his face between your thumb and middle finger, tilting his head up further.
His cheeks are flushed, his lips are so puffy from his feast. His dark, long hair sticks to his skin.
“You have the prettiest face”, you coo, sinking down on his aching cock. His eyes go out of focus, his lips fall open. He exhales shakily, fingers dimpling your hips as he tries to survive the current moment. Eighty years of abstinence is a terribly long time and your cunt is so incredibly soft.
He bottoms out, dropping his head back and closing his eyes.
“Ah fuck”, he chokes out, following it up with a needy keen.
“Yeah. Fuck”, you agree, picking up a quick rhythm. You truly cannot be bothered with tenderness. This man came into your life and dragged you out of your self-made cave of abstinence. It is very difficult not to act like a starved animal when he makes you feel desire, arousal and attraction again after seventy years of nothingness.
Namjoon doesn’t mind your rough rhythm, arching his back to the point his pretty nipples stick out of the water. It ripples each time you slam your hips down, hitting his neck and your breasts over and over again.
“Is this good for you, pretty boy?”
“So good, so good, ah so good”, he chants, dimpling your hips with his fingers.
“You’re fucking amazing, argh.”
It happens instinctively that your hand slips to his throat. No pressure, just contact.
“Yes, ah”, he gets out, deep voice tickling your palm and cock throbbing inside you. “mhm, mhmm. Ah…”
You still don’t apply pressure, simply keeping it there because at this moment you want him to know that you own him. Right here in this little cave of paradise your ownership over him is as certain as the moonshine kissing your bodies.
“Harder, please”, he begs.
“Mhm, fuck”, you purr, finally putting pressure on his veins. His pulse flutters, he moans loudly and rolls his hips up.
“Thank you, Mistress…”
“Namjoon”, you gasp, hips stuttering in shock. This man will keep surprising you over and over. “Kiss me, you fucking treasure”, you order.
Namjoon obeys gladly, feeding you his needy moans while you feed him your tongue. His head is turning, his stomach keeps tensing. He missed sex so much. It is so clear to him now that you are bouncing on him and he feels a hand around his throat again. Namjoon dances his hands up to your chest. He touches your wounded side carefully and increases the pressure when he reaches your breasts.
The kiss breaks when you gasp for air.
“What do you enjoy?” he asks, kneading your breasts first before following it up with attention to solely your nipples. He wants to show you what his hands can do.
“Both, just keep going. You’re doing so well”, you praise him, pulling him back into the kiss by his neck.
Namjoon purrs, toes curling. He can feel that you are holding back, that you aren’t squeezing down with all your strength. It makes him dizzy. It is already ruining enough to feel your big, muscular thighs cage him in so to feel your hand actively restraining itself really does the rest. He hopes that he can please you in return, that his hands worship your breasts in ways you enjoy. He gathers them in his fingers and squeezes them before ending it by playing with your nipples. He repeats it, mixes the order and moans as much as he can. People tell him that his voice is nice, so he hopes that it serves you on your quest for bliss.
He has no idea just how well it serves you and how much you enjoy his touches. You are enchanted by him. You angle your hips better, clit grinding against his lower stomach. It breaks the kiss, but neither you nor he mind.
“You feel so fucking good”, you growl, staring at him like a predator stalking her prey.
Namjoon retorts your look with submissive confidence, cheeks flushed and lips puffy.
“Tell me I feel good too.”
“You do”, he chokes out, sliding his hands from your breasts to grasp your wrist.
“Hands on my chest, now”, you order, giving his cheek a gentle slap.
He gasps, eyes going foggy.
“Harder.”
You obey his wish with burning passion. You choke him tightly and slap his pretty face. Namjoon keens, grasping your breasts rather roughly to continue his massage.
“Good boy, there we go”, you praise, rewarding him with another slap.
He sobs softly, biting his lower lip afterwards. His cheek is throbbing, his head is so dizzy. He is in paradise, gazing at you as if you were his goddess reincarnated.
You change hands. One around his throat and the other slapping his untouched cheek. His eyes spill tears, his thighs tremble under you.
“Fuck, you are so pretty”, you pant, having to slap him just to see his face light up in reaction.
“I have to…soon…”
“I know. Me too”, you promise him and claim his bitten lips in a kiss. The hand which once slapped him, closes around a bundle of his long hair.
Namjoon cannot decide whether to whimper into your mouth or go completely silent. This is stealing any sense of sanity from him. His entire lower body feels charged in pleasure, his cock is so hard that he aches.
You twist his hair, a tugging sensation spreads over his scalp. Namjoon breaks the kiss yet again, “now.”
You moan with him, riding on his high with sloppy hips. It matters rather little to you that your harsh movements make it all the more intense for him, that Namjoon is forced into a state of burning overstimulation.
“Please. Ah, please! Please! Please”, he cries, wiggling helplessly which only makes you pin him down harder.
“Soon, pretty one, soon. Breathe for me”, you encourage him, basking in his presence. How sweetly he shakes.
“I can’t, I can’t. Mistress please, a-ah please.”
“Good boy, such a good boy”, you purr, thighs pinning his shaking hips into place and stomach tightening more and more. “Fuck, you’re getting me there. Fuck yes.”
“I-I’m dizzy. Mistress ah”, he sobs, throbbing inside you despite his aches. You are tightening so much. It feels so good and intense. Namjoon chases it even if it makes his cock feel on fire.
“Fuck! Yes! Ah, Namjoon”, you moan, throwing your head back. This was it, the last thing you needed. Paradise is yours and it fills your entire body with magical tingles.
He helps you through it even if the overstimulation blurs his vision. He has to. It is his duty and he loves it.
It takes seven sloppy thrusts to finish. You drop into him, arms closing around his head and lips tickling his neck.
“Good boy…fuck”, you breathe out, following it up with a breathy chuckle.
He snickers with you, “I know, right.”
“Mhm.”
It is nice to calm down together in this warm, gurgling hot spring. It must have started to snow because sprinkles of it are entering the cave by the opening. They look like stars in the moonlight, disappearing in the warm air before they can hit the ground.
“Did I hurt you?” you ask.
“Yes, just perfectly”, he says, making you scoff in amusement.
“You surprise me.” You lift your head and begin to run your palms along his shoulders and face. “The pretty elf likes it rough.”
He blushes, “I am less fragile than I look.”
“Mhm, how wonderful.” You peck his tender cheek. “It was good for me.”
“It was good for me as well. Thank you for allowing me this moment.”
“Mhm, any time you want.”
Namjoon’s stomach tingles. This almost sounded like a promise. The mere aspect that this could be repeated, makes his heart flutter.
“Fucking goddesses, orgasms are amazing when you have them with another”, you confess.
“They are. I cannot feel my toes still”, he jokes, making you scoff in amusement.
You kiss his second cheek, soothing the lingering ache. He is so happy.
“And tomorrow we are starting homewards. Are you ready for it?”
He meets your eyes, “partially. I am ready to finally save my people, but I am definitely not ready for all the freezing nights again.”
“Mhm.” You rest your head on his shoulder, dancing your fingers down his back.
Namjoon shivers, melting into your embrace. He traces your spine, feeling you relax.
“Unless…we have each other to keep warm”, he whispers, holding his breath afterwards as he awaits your reaction.
You scoff, “you are quite bold.” You pet his head. “You are not hogging the blanket.”
Namjoon finally exhales, chuckling softly.
“I promise.”
Namjoon lands softly, giving his horse a firm pat on the neck.
“You rode well, sweet girl”, he praises the mare, leading her to the village stables. “I promise to take care of your saddle soon, but I have to bring these mushrooms to my apprentice.”
“Don’t worry, I can do it.”
He looks over his shoulder at you. Your horse is by your side, its reins lay comfortably between your gloved fingers.
“Would you? Truly?”
“Of course. I’m better with horses than the green fever anyway.”
“I thank you, truly”, he says and hurries outside.
You watch as people begin to gather around him. Soon the calls begin and doors begin to open as more and more people hear of his return. They follow him, asking a million questions at the same time. You don’t envy him.
“Why does your hair look like that?”
You shift your eyes to the young voice by your feet. A little boy, perhaps five years of age and holding a straw doll, looks up at you curiously.
“Mutations.”
“What’s that?”
“Something I wish not even on my worst enemy”, you say and click your tongue to get your horse to move.
The boy follows you.
“Why do your eyes look like that?”
“Mutations.”
“Why do you have scars?”
“From fighting monsters.”
“Why do you have two swords?”
“To kill monsters.”
“Why two?”
“Monsters come in all shapes. I need different metals for different things.”
“What does that mean?”
His endless questions exhaust you, but you know better than to be terrible to a child. People don’t like it when hexer make children cry, you will always and exclusively be the guilty party in this situation. You take a deep breath t to gather yourself then turn with a forced smile on your lips.
“Tell you what, if you go back to your parents right now, I will tell you a very fun story later. Alright?”
The boy’s eyes light up, “yes, alright”, he thankfully listens, leaving you in peace.
Finally. Children can be so chatty.
You turn your attention to the horses. You prefer their company over that of random children any day.
The journey back was tedious and cold. With only one elk having to carry the both of you for most of the way, it took longer than anticipated. You almost missed the closing of the gate. If it wasn’t for your and Namjoon’s enthusiastic screams, perhaps you might have.
Lady Duvallet offered you food and accommodation. Namjoon also received another offer for a night with her, which he kindly rejected her before sneaking glances at you instead.
His company continued to be pleasant. He is a very wonderful man to keep close and when he asked you to accompany him to his village, you did not deny him.
You could have, perhaps you should have, but you didn’t wish to. You were curious about what he still had to offer and you always wanted to see his village safe. There was also the issue of road bandits from who you had to keep him safe – or so you told yourself when you didn’t want to admit that you became rather interested in him.
You walk through the village after having taken care of the horses. The people who once followed Namjoon now look at you curiously. You know that your appearance gives you away and that they must wonder if you were the hexer hired to save their lives.
You are used to such stares, just as you are used to being the savour of villages, towns and cities. And you are used to the rude welcomes you receive regardless, the bargaining once it comes to payment even if you risked your life for theirs. These stares mean nothing to you because you know that once you leave this village again, you will mean nothing to them.
“You.”
The young farmer stops upon being addressed by you, stumbling to the side.
“Ye-yes?”
“Where can I find Namjoon?”
“His hut, your ladyship”, he says and points at the wooden cottage at the north border of the village. It is by the lake with a herb garden in front of it.
You continue your way wordlessly.
“My lady!”
You look over your shoulder.
“Is it true? Are we saved?”
“I believe so.”
“And you are her, aren’t you? The hexer he hired.”
“I am.”
“I thank you, my lady. My wife and daughter will live because of you. Blessed be you in Vairë’s name.”
His gratitude baffles you. You take a step closer, reach out to shake his hand only to decide against it and turn to leave. His grateful smile does not falter as he waves and thanks you once again. It is honest.
The door to Namjoon’s cottage is open. A young woman is bent over a cauldron while Namjoon is throwing ingredients into it. She must be the apprentice he keeps mentioning. The last two months visibly gnawed at her. Despite her exhaustion however, an aura of immense resilience surrounds her. She is of Elvish decent, just like the rest of the village, but seems a lot younger than Namjoon. She must still be in the human age range.
You clear your throat. They look at you.
“You came. Eivør, this is ___ the hexer I told you about. ___ this is Eivør, my apprentice”, Namjoon says.
She bows deeply, “blessed be you in Vairë’s name, my lady.”
You nod your head in greeting, “good day to you too.”
She shifts her attention to the cauldron afterwards and you are glad that she does. You have never been received with such warmth and gratitude before. You do not know how to accept it.
And it continues. Once Namjoon finished the medicine and he asks you if you could help in handing it out to the people, your name is spoken in high regard and your future is blessed.
By the end of the day, when most of the village is sleeping peacefully, you feel exhausted by the sheer amount of gratitude you received.
You sit down on the ground with a loud grunt, stretching your legs. What a curious feeling it is to have your work appreciated.
“Is there still space for another?”
You glance at Namjoon. He draped a blanket over his own shoulders and wears fresh clothing. He also smells clean – flowers and honey. It is a pleasant scent.
“Go ahead. The ground’s all yours.”
He sits down with a content sigh, offering you a jug of mulled wine. You accept it.
“I have furniture to sit on, you know?”
“I prefer the ground.”
He chuckles, “suit yourself.”
You and he take a sip of the spiced beverage, looking out at the calm lake. It reflects the moonlight like a mirror, standing completely still almost as if it was finally calm now that the village was saved.
“What a day, am I right?” Namjoon breaks the silence.
“Mhm.”
“It still hasn’t sunk in for me. Not really at least. It feels as if I am finally starting to wake up from a bad dream.”
“I can imagine.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Tch, don’t be ridiculous.”
“I am not.” He hooks his pinkie with yours.
You look at it then his eyes. He is smiling, connecting his hand with yours when you don’t pull away. You don’t desire to break the connection. His touch is warm. It feels pleasant.
“Your name will forever be spoken in high regard here. You saved us”, he says, tracing your knuckles.
“I only did what I was paid to do”, you dismiss him and pull your hand away to fix your hair. Embarrassment is an uncomfortable emotion.
“Perhaps, but you are our saviour nonetheless.”
You say nothing to this. Because you do not know what to say. Gratitude to you means a customer which doesn’t attempt to talk his way out of paying, thanks comes in the form of the agreed amount of coin.
Words and gestures on top of enough coin are foreign to you and it is entirely too much to handle.
“What will you do now?” he asks you.
“I don’t know. Go to wherever I’m needed and kill a few monsters on the way.”
“Why don’t you stay here for a while?”
“What?”
“We have food and medicine and a house to spare. Over there, this one could be yours”, he says, pointing at the small cottage next to his’. It seems abandoned and has an empty vegetable garden in the back.
“Tch, sure.”
“I am serious. It isn’t much, but perhaps you could see it as part of your payment.”
“You shouldn’t speak hastily.”
“It doesn’t have to be forever. Only for a while. The village needs a protector, you can help out wherever you wish and it is going to be winter soon. Don’t you hexer rest during the winter?”
He saw right through you. You would have gone back north and probably spent it somewhere alone and secluded.
You study the small cottage again. You could have a view of the lake each night or sit by the front to catch Namjoon scurrying about. You could get warm by a fire at night and sleep in a proper bed. You wouldn’t have to freeze somewhere lonely.
You shift your eyes to Namjoon. He looks at you expectantly and full of fondness. How truly extraordinary it is that your paths crossed.
“Right”, you say, “perhaps spending it here wouldn’t be this bad.”
“Indeed. And it does not have to be forever. See it as your winter retreat if you wish to do so.”
You give him a smile, “I will see it as such.”
He meets your eyes, retorting your smile.
“Wonderful”, he says and takes your hand.
You get the feeling that you might not want to leave this village in spring and the very reason for it is currently making you smile.
It's the hottest summer on record, and it's about to get hotter...
...And all because you jokingly called your roommate mommy...
Genre: Roommates to Lovers, PWP
WC: 3,623
Rating: Explicit
Originally Published: 250711 on ao3
Tags: Under the cut
Banner: by the wonderful @lovetaroandtaemin
A/N: I saw Wumuti and bluescreened and had a thought and then this happened. And I am not sorry. :)
Tags: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Roommates to lovers, Banter Mommy Kink, fuck gender roles, Pet Names, Cuddling, Teasing, confession of feelings, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Multiple Orgasms, Defining the Relationship
When I say kinky, I don't mean curls
When I say give me, I mean the world
When I say baby, you bite your lip
I know exactly where you get your kicks
Because
Baby I'm giving you the mommy issues
Know I make you wish I put my body on you
Say you'd give me anything
When I call the shots, you call me
~ Mommy Issues -- Cloudy June
You sighed as you readjusted the ice pack on the back of your neck. This year had brought the hottest summer on record in almost 50 years, and you were feeling it. Now it was mid July, and you felt like the heat wave would never end.
“Is it fall yet?” You asked yet again, narrowly dodging the pillow your roommate threw at you. "Surely it must be fall soon."
“No,” Wumuti scowled at you as he pulled his ash blonde, wavy hair into a ponytail. “I fucking wish though."
“What if we moved to Antarctica? What do you think the cost of living would be?"
“What if you stopped whining before I strangle you with your own cooling blanket?” He giggled.
“Wow, mean,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes.
“What if I say I’d do it lovingly?” Wumuti fluttered his eyelashes at you. You stuck your tongue out at him in response.
You got up, crossing the room to the thermostat. It was already set well above what you and Wumuti normally kept it at, and the poor system was still struggling against the obscene temperatures outside. You sighed and reached for the controls.
“Don’t you dare,” Wumuti warned. “I know where you sleep.”
“Killjoy,” you pouted. “I am dying.”
“Do you want another absurd power bill?” Wumuti smirked.
“Okay well, no…” You sighed. “Fine. Point taken.”
You watched as Wumuti stood and stretched languidly, letting out a deep breath as he worked out the tension from sitting on the couch all morning. You looked away quickly as he caught you staring.
You hoped he wouldn’t blame you— after all, from the second you’d met him, you had been entranced about Wumuti’s otherworldly beauty. Hell, he had been in your phone as “Fae Boi” since day one, and when he found out he had proudly added a fairy emoji next to it.
There was also the matter of the unreasonably large crush that you had on him, that you refused to do anything about.
Thankfully, he said nothing about you staring, again, excusing himself to the kitchen instead. You watched him go, sighing internally. Not that you had room to talk as far as this summer’s wardrobe went, but your roommate’s tendency to wear nothing but a crop tank and short shorts was driving you up the proverbial wall. Today’s shorts were so short that you could just see the edges of the rainbow tie-dye panties he had on.
Despite all of this, you were determined to keep things how they were— just roommates. You had been through a slew of terrible ones to find Wumuti, and you knew you never wanted to let him go, regardless of how you might feel otherwise.
Was it torture? Sure.
But you’d be damned if you ever had to go searching for another roommate.
You were sulking on the couch again, scrolling on socials, when Wumuti sidled up to you, setting down a tall glass on your tray table.
“Hydrate,” he told you. “Maybe you’ll be less whiny if you drink some ice water. It'll be good for you."
“Okay mommy,” you said with another eyeroll. “Jeez.”
Wumuti froze, and you glanced up to see him staring at you, deep brown eyes fixed on your face. You weren’t sure how to read his expression— a mixture of confusion and surprise— but something else as well, bordering on dangerous.
Fuck, did I overstep?
It wasn’t the first time you’d ever referred to him with a female gendered term. On the contrary, you used such terms on the day-to-day. Wumuti had told you early on that he gave exactly zero fucks about traditional gender roles.
But you had never called him mommy.
And he’d never reacted like this.
Regardless, Wumuti returned to his end of the couch a few moments later, grabbing his sketchbook and pencil as he contorted himself back into a pretzel. The rest of the day passed in relative silence, save for the music playing in the background.
But it wasn’t lost on you how many times you caught Wumuti staring at you for a change.
About a week later, you were still trying to forget what had happened. Neither of you had said anything about it, and you had assumed that it had been dropped. You’d made a mental note not to call him mommy again, and that was that. Wumuti’s demeanor hadn’t changed again since the incident, and for that you were thankful. He had been the same sweet, cheery person he always was with you.
You were especially glad considering the two of you happened to share a bed. You hadn’t originally, but when you had lost your job earlier in the year, you’d had to convert the second bedroom into a home office so you could work remotely for your new one. Since Wumuti had the bigger bed and the master suite anyway, the two of you had agreed it would be fine to share a bed.
You didn’t mind it at all, for multiple reasons. There had been a fair share of platonic cuddling as the year had progressed, and you definitely weren’t upset about that— it had been quite a while since you’d dated, and you were way more touch starved than you ever wanted to admit.
You were relieved when you woke the Saturday after the incident to find Wumuti clinging to you. You could just barely feel his soft breath against your neck, and you squirmed, trying to rearrange a bit.
If there was one thing you absolutely did not need, it was Wumuti unintentionally teasing you. Sometimes you were embarrassed by how sensitive your neck was.
Now being one of those times, as you felt wetness already pooling between your legs.
“Nooo,” came Wumuti’s soft voice from behind you as he slotted himself back into place. “Cozy.”
“You’re tickling me,” you lied, stiffening up slightly when you felt the lightest of touches there as he curled around you again.
“You’re so tense, hon,” he murmured, detaching from you just a bit. You shivered as you felt him begin to scratch your back, the acrylic nails he wore tracing soothing patterns up and down through the thin fabric of your sleep shirt.
“Wumuti…” You whispered. “Maybe now isn’t the time for this…”
“Oh, what’s wrong?” He stopped at once, moving to spoon you once more. “Are you still hurting from your sunburn last week?”
“No,” you said, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on the strain in your voice. “Just…”
“Just what?” He whispered, his lips now brushing the shell of your ear.
“Wumuti…”
“When are you going to stop pretending, angel?” He asked, and your heart skipped a beat.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck oh my god fuck.
“P— pretending?” You stammered.
“Pretending,” he continued to whisper, the tip of his nose now brushing the back of your neck— “That we haven’t wanted each other for ages.”
“Huh?” You squeaked. His arm was slung over you again, and he fumbled in the sheets, grasping for your hand and quickly intertwining his fingers with yours.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you react to my touch,” he continued as he hugged you tightly. “I notice the way you cling to me when we cuddle. How you absolutely melt into every single hug. How you never want to let go when we’re holding hands.”
“Um… I… Wumuti…” You mumbled. “Um…”
You had no idea what to say.
No thoughts. Head completely empty, save for the feel of his breath, still on your neck.
“Wumuti,” you whined.
“Shhh,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” you choked out as his thumb rubbed gently over your own, hands still firmly entwined. “Don’t… Please don’t stop.”
You felt his lips brush against your ear again, and you inhaled sharply.
“Then why don’t you relax and let mommy help you feel good… hmm, angel?”
Oh, holy fucking shit. He is going to kill me.
You were turning to face him in an instant, expecting to see a smirk on his face. But instead, you were met with the same dark stare you had received when you’d called him mommy the previous week.
“Wumuti…” You started. He silenced you with one slender finger over your lips.
“Hush,” he told you firmly, in an authoritative tone that left you almost dizzy. His gaze kept flicking to your lips, even after he took his finger away, and you watched as he closed the gap between you once more, carefully snaking an arm around your waist to pull you flush with him.
You let your eyes flutter shut as he began to trace your features gently, tracing a single fingertip over your face. You found yourself suppressing a shiver every time his fingernail grazed your skin.
A minute later, he took his hand away. You didn’t dare move a muscle. You couldn’t even open your eyes, so sure were you that this was all a dream.
You felt Wumuti’s nose brush your own, the feather light touch of his lips on yours.
“Can I?” He whispered.
“Please,” you returned breathlessly.
“Please what?” You felt his grin against your lips.
“Please, mommy,” you whined. “Please kiss me…”
That was all the invitation he needed, and he crashed his lips onto yours, desperation pouring into the kiss as he licked into your mouth, nibbled at your lip, his own breaths coming in heady gasps. His arms were tightly wound around you now, one hand creeping lower to press into the small of your back. At the same time, he ground his hips against yours, and you moaned low.
“Fuck… Wumuti…”
“That’s the idea, angel,” Wumuti cooed, pulling away to trail kisses across your jaw. He nipped lightly at your earlobe before bringing his lips up to whisper in your ear.
“By the time I’m done with you, you won’t want for anyone else but me, ever again,” Wumuti said with the tiniest giggle. “How does that sound?”
“Please,” you begged, unsure what had come over you. “Please, mommy. Need you…”
“Going to be good for me?” He murmured against your neck as he kissed a sloppy trail down your neck to your collarbone. He paused there, sucking what you knew would be a deep mark into the sensitive flesh, and you could feel him giggling against your skin. "Let me make you come undone. Let me see how that beautiful face looks while you cum all over my cock."
“Yes,” you gasped. “So good for you…”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
He had one hand under your shirt now, creeping up your back. When he reached the base of your neck, he slowly dragged his nails back down, and you shuddered against him.
“Oh, this is fun,” he whispered. “Should have done this ages ago.”
“M… Muti…” Was all you could manage to get out. He giggled again, regarding you with a sly smile as he let you go, only so he could push you onto your back. He lost no time in straddling your hips, and you gasped as you felt his cock through his pajama bottoms. He shed his own tank top quickly, tossing it onto the floor, and your eyes widened.
“So pretty, mommy,” you mumbled. “Can I touch?”
“Of course you can, angel,” he nodded, reaching for your hands and guiding them to the firm plane of his belly. He leaned over you, his hard cock pressing into your belly, and you whined and bucked your hips up into his. You were delighted to feel him shiver under your touch, and he closed his eyes for a moment, clearly savoring the feel of your hands on him.
Before you knew it, his own hands were under the hem of your shirt, and he pulled it up and over your head, dropping it over the side of the bed. Now it was his turn to gasp as he marveled at the sight of you.
“Oh my,” he purred. “I just knew my angel would have gorgeous tits.” He reached for your already sensitive nipples, twisting sharply, a wicked grin on his face as you cried out.
“Mommy!”
“Does that hurt, baby?”
“No,” you shook your head. “Feels good… So good…”
Time seemed to slow down as Wumuti knelt over you, covering your exposed chest with wet, open-mouthed kisses. Every so often he would pause, sucking yet more marks into your skin, licking over them to soothe the sting when he was done.
You settled for gripping his thighs as he continued his ministrations, and as he moved lower, you let out a high pitched whine.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, lips less than an inch away from the hem of your sleep shorts. “Tell mommy what you need.”
“I…” You felt drunk from the attention, and he had barely touched you yet. Not where you needed him the most. “Need…”
Wumuti moved off of you, trailing his fingertips over your clothed center, featherlight touches that only served to drive you even crazier. You shrieked when a fingernail brushed at your clit, and he laughed.
“So sensitive.”
“Mmhmm,” you nodded, your head spinning.
In a flash, Wumuti had hooked his thumbs into your sleep shorts, pulling them down and off in one smooth motion and tossing them off the bed with the rest of the already discarded clothing. He traced the waistband of your panties, a soft grin on his face.
“Baby Yoda. Cute.”
“Okay look,” you giggled. “If I had expected this I’d have worn something sexier.”
“Fair point, sweetheart,” he nodded. “Maybe we should just take them off.” He pressed two fingers to the apex of your thighs, rubbing at the absolutely soaked fabric. “They don’t seem to be doing you much good anyway.”
All you could do was whine and nod. Seconds later, you were lying fully naked before him, and you could barely breathe.
Is this what going insane feels like? He is the prettiest person I have ever met. What is he doing with me?
“Nuh-uh,” Wumuti shook his head, and you realized your thoughts may as well have been written on your face. “I know what you’re thinking. Don't you dare think I don't want you. You are all I want.”
He leaned in to kiss you tenderly, deeply. You let yourself get lost in it, but you broke the kiss with a strangled cry as you felt Wumuti pushing your legs apart, teasing closer and closer to where you wanted him.
“Please, oh my god,” you gasped. “Oh please.”
Wumuti stood, slipping his own sleep shorts off, and you scarcely had a second to stare at his cock— probably the prettiest you’d ever seen at that, head angry red and leaking pre-cum. He was back on the bed quickly, laying down between your legs as he pushed them further apart. You grabbed a pillow, covering your face with it and letting out a shrill scream.
“No no,” Wumuti tutted. “Let mommy hear those pretty sounds. You said you’d be good for me.”
“Yes mommy,” you whimpered as he leaned in, closing his lips around your swollen and extremely sensitive clit.
“Mmm, so good,” he growled, sucking at your clit with an intensity that took your breath away. He flicked it with his tongue, and you heard him giggle as you arched your back and reached for his hair. He let you twine your fingers in it, and you tugged lightly.
“Is this what you wanted, pretty baby?” He asked. “Want mommy to eat you like it’s my last meal?”
“Oh god please yes,” you rambled. “I— WUMUTI!” You wailed as he licked a long stripe up your folds before pushing his face into your sopping cunt, devouring you like it was the only thing in the world that mattered. You pulled harder on his hair, but that only served to spur him on more.
“Good girl,” he sighed as he slipped a single finger inside you. “Fuck, you taste heavenly. I knew you were an angel.”
“Mommy!” You shrieked, arching your back and pushing your cunt more firmly against his face as he sank a second, and then a third finger into you in rapid succession. He curled them expertly, and you could feel the vibrations from his gentle laughter against your cunt.
He began to thrust, pressing firmly against that sensitive spot inside you, and you were at the edge much faster than you anticipated, legs already shaking and breaths coming in strangled gasps as Wumuti continued to feast on your cunt.
“Come,” he said simply. And that was all you needed— your body shuddering with wave after wave of pleasure. It had been so long since you’d come like this, and you had needed it more than you knew. Wumuti seemed to know, and he kept going, pushing you into a second release before you had come down from the first. You felt a rush of fluid gushing from you, and heard Wumuti’s surprised squeak.
Did he just make me… oh my god?!
“So, so good for me,” he murmured quietly, still lapping at your folds, drinking up every drop of your cum. “I could eat you all day, I think. This could be my last meal for all I care, and I’d be happy.”
“Mommy,” you said shakily. “Please… I need you…”
He was on you in seconds, cock hard and heavy and nudging between your legs. You inhaled sharply at the warmth of his body covering yours, and he kissed you, bringing one hand to cradle your head gently.
“You want me inside you, sweetheart?”
“Yes mommy,” you nodded obediently. “Please. I’ll be so good. So good for you,” you mumbled against his lips as you kissed him again, fingers twisting in his hair again.
You felt him aligning the head of his cock with your entrance, and he pushed in devastatingly slowly, giving you time to adjust to his length. He cursed under his breath as he bottomed out, his hips flush with your own, and you could feel him twitching inside you. You clenched around him, and he rewarded you by pulling out a bit and slamming back inside.
“MOMMY!”
Wumuti set a slow pace at first, though you could tell he was having a hard time keeping it.
“My pretty angel,” he whispered, kissing you deeply. “This pussy was made for my cock.”
“Feels so good, mommy,” you sighed, letting your eyes close, relishing the feel of him opening you up.
Making you his.
Which was all you’d ever really wanted in the first place.
You clenched around him again, and he picked up the pace, thrusting hard and fast now, angling just right as he pushed into you over and over as if both your lives depended on it.
You were hurtling towards another release, this one coiling in your belly so tightly that you felt like it might destroy you.
Then again, if this was the way you went, you couldn’t be mad.
Wumuti leaned in, kissing you softly, whispering against your lips.
“I can feel you getting tighter and tighter, angel. Why don’t you be a good girl and come on mommy’s cock? Let go for me.”
He didn’t have to ask again— a few more messy thrusts and you were gone, screaming his name as you squirted again, soaking him further. He continued, his strokes becoming erratic, and he whined loudly.
“Where should mommy cum, hmm, angel? I'm so close."
“Inside me!” You cried out. “Please. Please please.”
“Want me to fill you up, baby? You going to be good for me one more time and take every drop?”
“Yes!”
You watched, almost in awe, as he came— eyes closed, fair features twisted up in ecstasy. He arched his back as he pushed inside you to the hilt, and you felt his cock pulsing as he emptined himself into your soaking cunt. As he came down from his own high, he lay down on top of you, cock still deep inside.
He began to trace your features again, peppering your face with soft kisses.
“So, so good for me,” he murmured. “Precious, perfect angel. I think you really were made for me.”
“Mmm,” was all you could get out, and you brought your hands up to rub circles on his back as he kissed your lips gently. He pressed his forehead to yours, an enormous smile on his face.
“Good morning,” he giggled.
“Yes,” you nodded. "Very, very good."
“Are you okay?” His expression morphed to concern, but softened again when you nodded vigorously.
“Yeah, you just bluescreened my brain cell is all,” you laughed.
“And I’d do it again if you let me,” he said matter-of-factly. “But later. For now, let’s get cleaned up.”
You sighed as he pulled out, already missing the feel of his cock. He excused himself for a moment, returning with a damp cloth, and he carefully cleaned you up before crawling into bed again, tugging you close and kissing your forehead.
“I don’t know about you,” he said softly. “But I think this summer is looking up now… for both of us.”
“Mmhmm,” you agreed.
“Will you be mine, angel?” He asked, voice barely a whisper, as if he were afraid you would say no.
“I think I’ve always been yours,” you told him, heart threatening to beat out of your chest as he beamed at your answer.
“Good,” he nodded, cradling you to his chest. “So it’s settled.”
“Sounds like it,” you said, grinning as you heard his heart racing. “Promise you’ll take good care of me, mommy?”
“Oh, my pretty baby,” he said softly. “Always. Forever.”
BITCH I'M DYING 🪦 This is heaven and hell and limbo. I'm falling apart. The very fabric of my soul is unraveling. I joked about wanting mommy!muti but it's become a NEED. My heart is fucking kicking in my chest rn. Feral doesn't cover it. The nails. I can feel them in my skin, his lips on my throat. ARRRRRGH I'm gonna fucking cry I need more 😭
I will not change my ult. I will not change my ult. I will not change my ult. I will not change my ult. I will not change my ult. I will not change my ult. I will not change my ult. I will not change my ult. I will not change my ult. I will not change my ult. I will not change my ult. I will not change my ult. I will not change my ult. I will not change my ult. I will not change my ult. I will not change my ult. I will not change my ult.
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