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❆ Hiya babies! I'm Evie, I'm a reality shifter and created this blog to post blurbs, fics, one-shots and scenarios you can read and add to your script if you are a reality shifter too.
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𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : jennifer!dean winchester x needy!fem!reader.
𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐬 & 𝐜𝐰 : ❝ your best friend is different. bitter. voided. permanently changed. ❞ ⫶ mature content & language. mentions of dead people and how they died. implied usage of drugs against one's will. dean uses the nickname "needy" with reader in a demeaning way. reader has glasses.
It's been two days. Since the fire, the incident at Melody Lane. Almost twenty dead people. The whole place is a mountain of ashes now.
You've had the whole weekend to process everything that happened last Friday night. You've had the sound of people screaming, their bones being crushed under the weight of wooden beams falling apart from the sleazy bar's ceiling, carved into your brain like a weeping gash, and yet...
What kind of best friend lets her friend get pulled up from his knees and thrown into a van by a moron with eyeliner? Fragile and dizzy with that lost look in his eyes you hadn't seen since he told you years ago how his mom died and how his dad's been dealing with it ever since.
The dismissive way in which he told you to shut up when you begged him not to go with them, his voice adultered with numbness as he said your name. His eyes looking back at you for a last time, the trance breaking just for a second. Pleading for help. But it was already too late.
The acidic, putrid smell of whatever came out of Dean's body hasn't left your nose. There's a gross black sliver under each of your finger nails, physical proof of the hours you spent trying to scrub off the oil-like, foreign, spiky goo his mouth threw up all over your kitchen floor and your jeans.
He ravished that goddman rotisserie chicken like he had grown shark jaws overnight. You've never heard anything squeal like he did.
You're sick to your stomach in the middle of Biology class, waiting for the teacher to walk in.
Wondering if he'll show up this morning.
You can't sleep properly, remembering his torn, bloodied clothes after he sneaked into your house like a ghost, moving around living room like a caged animal trying to trace the scent of a wounded prey. Like he hadn't been snatched from your arms and shoved inside a bunch of strangers' vehicle in the midst of the chaos and the smell of burnt skin and wood the smoke of the fire brought to you.
It's still on your hair.
The warmth of his breath as he slammed you up against the hall wall, a few pictures frames clattering when they found their way to the floor, like he was considering the option of biting your head right off.
Even then you called for him while he left your house, after he propelled you against the kitchen door threshold.
Feral. Unnerving. Empty. Everything Dean wasn't, at least not in a potentially harmful way.
Classmates around you whisper about it, about you and Dean making it out alive, making stuff up to invigorate the sad, mediocre truth. You didn't even stay long enough to stop hearing their screechy wailings of suffering cease.
"Can't believe you're makin' that long face too, dweeb."
Dean's voice makes your heart topple inside your chest, and you sit straight on your seat like you've been pulled from a leash, trained to move around him like a service dog.
He's in one piece. No sticky mess pouring out his mouth, no layer of blood coating his teeth, no creaturely growls coming out of his chest.
He stands there smirking down at you before he plops down on the stool besides yours with all the grace and listlessness only someone like him can manage to comprise.
And he's gorgeous, shockingly so. It's nothing new, but it never ceases to amaze you. Always has since you were two little kids rolling around in a sandbox, his hands tugging on your pigtails until you cried and he hugged you better.
Dean is one of a kind.
Not because he's the most beautiful person you've ever encountered, but because there's no one else but him who can behave the way he does and get away with it.
He's careless with you in a way that leaves you a little dazed and resentful, but he's quick to ease it up with a kiss on your cheek and that mellow tone he uses only when he really wants something, chuckling cloyingly sweet and mean because he knows it riles you up.
Not that Dean Winchester has ever been told no, with the way his lucious eyelashes flutter pretty. He has everyone wrapped around one of his petty fingers.
But it's different with you, you swear it is.
His plumpy lips linger right beneath the corner of your mouth and he smiles against your skin like he finds enjoyment not only in molding you into the shape he wants you to endure the torment he puts you through in, but in touching your skin so closely and having you caged against the arm of the couch while some rerun plays on the TV. Every time.
You're not crazy, and you're not delusional, either.
You know Dean like no one else in the world does. You know he'll pick someone to toy with tomorrow, using the same tactics, the same velvety tone and the same cruel jokes that get girls wet and boys rock-hard.
Yet, that doesn't stop you from staring at him like this isn't him, but a creature of a much sharper nature that's borrowed his skin, and his beautiful eyes, and his charming grin.
He's okay, physically. There's not a single scratch on him.
"You're okay," You breathe out, low and thin like you've received a sign from God after having been naughty all your life.
"Uh... Yes, I'm pretty damn fine," His eyebrow raises mockingly, like he could never guess why you're looking at him the way you are. "I think you already can see that."
How can he just not care?
Does he not remember the way he crowded you with pure savagery, or how he puked something that looked straight out of hell? That he literally disappeared and came back looking straight out of a murder documentary?
Maybe he got roofied? Maybe he's coping? You wish he would cope with you instead of acting like it's just another Monday. That he would stop smirking like there aren't at least twenty dead people, like he didn't tilt the way you see him for the next decade.
"What is wrong with you? " The question leaves your mouth harsher than any of you both would've expected— harsher than he believes you capable of being. It makes his head snap in your direction.
"What is wrong with you?" He counters back, mean and bristled in that way that tells you that you're already getting on his last nerve. "God, you're gonna start slobberin' all over me again, Needy?"
Out of all the nicknames he's slapped on you over the years, this one takes the cake. But the cake is stale and it has worms swirling out and through the frosting and it makes you sick to your stomach. It makes you feel unbearable and unwanted.
So, you slowly turn away from him like a wounded animal backing away from the baleful hand that's clawed at it, and try to sit tightly through your teacher's anguished and mournful speech, who's just walked into the classroom with teary eyes and a visibly heavy heart.
All while Dean snickers away on the stool next to yours, doodling something on the notebook he just drew out of his bag, like he knows something you don't but it's dying to share with you.
It'd probably drag you down with him, since it's mainly a matter of feeding the void you usually fill. You can't really guess what's going on with him.
You rotate almost timidly to look at him again, trying not to let your jaw fall with horror. He would've called you dramatic and flick your forehead meanly, push your glasses harshly against the bridge of your nose, too. "People died, Dean."
Pouty lips and a petty shrug of his shoulders is all you get in exchange. "Anyone we know?"
You frown, outraged now. But you keep your voice low as your teacher, a man with a hook where his left hand should be, fishes a tissue out of the box to pass it over to a weeping jock sitting at the front row.
"We know everyone!" You retort indignantly. "This is a hellhole, there's no way to overlook anything or anyone."
Again, he shrugs like you guys are discussing the last episode of Desperate Housewives, and not the worst night you have ever had so far. "Oops."
Dean is cruel, in that teenage boy fashion that leaves adults hurt and girls mopping behind him every time he uses that viper tongue and the unfair flutter of his eyelashes against them, but this is different.
He's different.
He chuckles lowly again, hiding the bottom half of his face away behind a loose fist, covering that gorgeous, evil smile when Mr. Wroblewski stretches his pitiful rant about your recently deceased classmates.
"Goddamn, that many fuckers ate shit?" There's nothing but derision in his voice, and you could swear something like enjoyment lays underneath as well.
Your stomach starts feeling upset again.
Classes are dismissed for the rest of the day in favour of respecting the memory of the victims and to mourn them, and Dean gets up from the stool like he's been announced to be the winner of a lottery ticket.
Not a single fuck in the world but how he's gonna enjoy himself for the rest of the day.
His stuff is wiped off the desk just as quickly and thrown inside his bag again before he's leaning down on the desk, one arm propped over the jagged wooden surface, the other raised to your face so he can pinch your cheek between his knuckles in that patronizing way.
"See ya later, pretty?" The kiss he leaves on your hairline has you swooning pathetically against your will. "And, please, tell your sloppy loser of a boyfriend to let go the fuck of you, hm? Don't wanna share you for the rest of the week."
Right. You have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who thinks your friendship with Dean has weirdly codependent connotations, and a boyfriend who would hate your guts for leaving him stranded for the hundredth time in favor of hanging out with "the Jezebel of Devil's Kettle", as he calls Dean.
Overdramatic, really. And stupid. Because Dean's eyes are so pretty against the natural lighting flowing inside the classroom, and he's giving you that look that lets you know he won't budge or accept a no for an answer.
Whiplash after whiplash with the way he shoves you away and yanks you back into his arms all the time.
You nod dumbly and watch him smile wide and ethereal and you almost feel like last weekend was just a nightmare. He's a fight you can't win, neither do you want to.
He leaves you sitting there. Reality cowers you into a corner again.
There's still very much something new and unsettlingly wrong about Dean Winchester.
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : god only knows how much i love this movie, BODY AND SOUL, and how much i love the idea of dean winchester resembling jennifer check.
this came to me during an epiphany, believe me. i just wrote it because i needed to get it out of my chest, tho. i don't think i will be writing any more of this unless anyone else likes it and i'm asked to do more. or unless i have the motivation to write more of it.
also, i need to read more in english so we can pretend my analogies and whatever i write and post here makes sense. until then we're just gonna nod and smile.
you and jaehyun keep hooking up casually until one night finally forces both of you to admit you’re in love.
𝓬𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 6.5k words, 18+ [ MDNI! ], explicit sexual content, bottom!male reader, fwb to lovers, unprotected sex (p in a), rimming, praise kink, college!au, handjob, blowjob, double stimulation, begging, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, body worship, big dick!jaehyun, creampie, manhandling, yearning, cum eating, accidental confession, aftercare.
it started, like most things between you and jaehyun, without a lot of talking.
that was kind of the point, actually.
the whole friends with benefits thing worked because you two had known each other long enough to skip the awkward parts. you'd been friends since freshman orientation, when jaehyun had sat next to you in intro to psych and asked to borrow a pen. three years later, and he was still borrowing your pens, still showing up at your door with takeout and that stupidly pretty smile, still falling into your space like he belonged there.
and he did belong there, as a friend.
that was the deal; no feelings, no strings, just two people who happened to be very good at making each other feel good.
it had started last semester, after a party where you'd both had too much to drink and jaehyun had kissed you in the hallway of his dorm building. you'd expected it to be awkward after that, but it wasn't; jaehyun had just looked at you the next morning with those big brown eyes and said, "that was nice. we should do that again. if you want."
it was casual, it was easy; exactly what you needed.
so that's what you did. you'd text jaehyun when you were stressed or lonely or just horny, and he'd show up, or he'd text you, and you'd show up. it was convenient, and it was good, and you never thought about it more than that.
you never really thought about the way jaehyun looked at you sometimes, so soft and so wondering, like he was trying to memorize your face. you never thought about how careful jaehyun was with you, how he always made sure you cum first, how he held you after even though you'd never asked him to. you never thought about the fact that jaehyun had stopped hooking up with anyone else entirely, even though you'd never discussed exclusivity.
you didn't really think about any of it, because thinking about it would mean acknowledging that something had shifted, and you weren't ready for that yet; you liked what you had, and you didn't want to lose it.
jaehyun felt the same way.
at least, that's what he told himself every single day.
because the truth was, jaehyun had been in love with you for months, maybe longer, maybe since that first day in psych when you'd handed him a pen and smiled at him like you'd known him forever. he couldn't pinpoint the exact moment it had happened, only that somewhere along the way, you'd stopped being just his friend and started being everything.
the friends with benefits thing had seemed like a good idea at the time; a way to be close to you, to touch you, to have you in a way that felt intimate without having to say the words he was terrified to speak. he'd thought it would satisfy something in him, this arrangement.
oh, he'd been so wrong.
it only made it worse — every single time jaehyun had you underneath him, every single time you moaned his name, every single time you looked at him with that hazy pleasure in your eyes, jaehyun fell a little deeper. and he couldn't say anything, because saying anything would ruin it. you'd made it clear from the start that this was casual. you'd said the words yourself, that night after the first time;
"i'm not looking for a relationship, jaehyun. i just want this. just us, like this."
so he'd nodded and said okay, and he'd locked his feelings away in a box and pretended they didn't exist.
but the box was getting full, and tonight, it was about to burst.
it was a friday night in late october, the kind of night where the air was crisp and the leaves were falling and everything felt a little bit electric.
you'd texted jaehyun around nine, a simple "you busy?" followed by the eggplant emoji simply because you were mature like that. jaehyun’s response came less than a minute later; "never for you. come over."
so here you were, standing outside his dorm room in a hoodie and sweatpants, your heart beating a little faster than it should. you knocked twice, the way you always did, and the door opened almost immediately.
jaehyun stood in the doorway, and god, he was so pretty it actually hurt; he was wearing gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips and a simple white t-shirt that stretched across his chest in a way that made your mouth water. his hair was dark and slightly damp, like he'd just showered, and his skin had that warm glow it always got after a shower.
his eyes found yours immediately, soft and familiar, and he smiled that small smile that made his dimples appear.
"hey," jaehyun said, stepping aside to let you in.
"hey," you said back, and you tried to ignore the way your stomach flipped when his hand brushed your lower back as you walked past him.
his dorm room was small and messy in the way all college dorms were messy; clothes draped over the desk chair, textbooks stacked on the floor, a half-empty cup of coffee on the nightstand. but it smelled like jaehyun — clean laundry and something woodsy, like strawberry or vanilla — and it felt safe in a way you couldn't explain.
jaehyun closed the door behind you and leaned against it, watching you with that quiet intensity he had.
he didn't say anything, just looked at you like he was trying to figure out what you were thinking. he always did that. it used to make you uncomfortable, but now you found it endearing.
"horrible week," you said by way of explanation, kicking off your shoes.
jaehyun nodded like he understood. he always understood.
"want to talk about it?"
you shook your head. "want to not think about it."
another nod, and then jaehyun pushed off the door and crossed the room toward you, and his hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. his touch was gentle, always gentle, like you were something so precious.
"okay," he said softly. "i can help with that."
and then jaehyun kissed you.
it started slow, the way it always did with jaehyun; his lips were so warm and so soft, moving against yours with a patience that drove you crazy. he never rushed, never pushed, he just kissed you like he had all the time in the world, like there was nowhere else he'd rather be.
you let your hands find his waist, your fingers curling into the fabric of his t-shirt, and you pulled him closer. jaehyun made a small sound against your mouth, something between a sigh and a hum, and it sent a shiver down your spine.
when he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark and his lips were pink and he was looking at you like you'd hung the moon.
"bed," he said, and it wasn't a question.
you nodded, and jaehyun softly took your hand and led you across the room.
the dorm bed was pretty small, a standard twin xl that barely fit both of you, but you'd eventually made it work before and you'd make it work again.
jaehyun sat down first, pulling you into his lap so you were straddling his thighs. his hands settled on your hips, thumbs tracing small circles through the fabric of your sweatpants.
"you're so pretty," jaehyun murmured, tilting his head up to kiss your jaw, your neck, the spot behind your ear that made you shiver. "you know that? you're so fucking pretty."
you laughed, breathless, and tangled your fingers in jaehyun’s damp dark hair.
"you're biased."
"i'm not." jaehyun’s teeth grazed your collarbone, gentle but teasing. "i have eyes. i can see."
he kissed down your throat, his lips dragging over your skin in a way that made your toes curl. his hands slid under the hem of your hoodie, palms flat against your stomach, and his fingers were warm and calloused and perfect.
"off," he said against your chest, tugging at the fabric.
you rapidly pulled your hoodie over your head and tossed it somewhere on the floor, and then jaehyun was looking at you — deeply observing — and his breath caught in a way that made your chest feel tight.
"god," he whispered, almost to himself. "look at you."
jaehyun’s soft hands slowly traced up your sides, over your ribs, his thumbs brushing across your nipples in a way that made you gasp. he watched your face as he did it, cataloging every single reaction, and there was something so hungry in his eyes that made your skin heat.
"hyunie," you breathed, and his name in your pretty mouth made him shiver.
"i know," jaehyun said. "i've got you."
he flipped you over, a move that was easy for him because he was strong and you were pliant and willing; your back hit the mattress, and he was above you, caging you in with his arms, his body a warm weight that pressed you into the sheets.
jaehyun kissed you again, deeper this time, his warm tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that had you arching your back up into him. his hips rolled down against yours, and you could feel him — hard and thick through his sweatpants — and the friction made you moan into his mouth.
"fuck," jaehyun muttered, pulling back just enough to look at you. "want to take my time with you tonight. is that okay?"
you simply nodded, because your voice had apparently stopped working.
jaehyun smiled, that soft, pretty, dimpled smile that made your heart do such stupid things, and then he started kissing his way down your body.
he started at your jaw, trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. jaehyun lingered at your pulse point, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin, and his teeth scraped gently over the spot before he sucked a mark there. it was not hard enough to bruise, just enough to feel, just enough to make you gasp.
"hyunie," you said, and your voice came out rough, broken.
"shh," he murmured against your collarbone. "let me."
jaehyun kissed across your chest, your sternum, your ribs. his lips found one of your nipples and he sucked it into his mouth, tongue swirling around the sensitive peak, and your hands flew to his hair, holding him there.
he chuckled, the vibration shooting straight to your dick, and he gave the other side the same attention, biting down just enough to make you whine.
"awh, so responsive," jaehyun said, pulling back to admire his work. your chest was completely flushed, your nipples wet and peaked, and the look in his eyes was pure reverence. "you always react so well for me."
you wanted to say something clever, something casual, but all that came out was a breathless;
"please."
"please what?" he asked, and he was already moving lower, dragging his lips down your stomach, his tongue dipping into your belly button in a way that made you squirm.
"please touch me," you said. "i need—"
"i know what you need," jaehyun said, and his fingers hooked into the waistband of your sweatpants. "lift up."
you did, and he pulled your pants and boxers down in one smooth movement, tossing them aside. the cool air hit your skin and you shivered, your dick twitching against your stomach, already leaking precum onto your skin.
jaehyun made a sound, low and appreciative, and his hand wrapped around the base of your cock. his fingers didn't quite touch — he was big, but you were also bigger than average — and the sight of his hand around you made your head spin.
"so pretty," jaehyun said again, and he meant your dick, which was a weird thing to say but it made you blush anyway. "all of you. every part."
he leaned down and licked a stripe up the underside of your cock, from base to tip, and your hips jerked off the bed. his free hand pressed you back down, holding you in place, and he did it again, slower this time, his tongue flat and warm.
"jaehyun, please—"
"i said i want to take my time," he reminded you, and his breath was hot against your skin. "be patient."
he took the head of your cock into his mouth, just the head, and sucked gently. the sensation was electric, shooting up your spine and making your toes curl. his tongue swirled around the tip, cleaning up the precum, and he moaned like you were the best thing he'd ever tasted.
then jaehyun sank down.
your brain short-circuited; jaehyun's mouth was so hot and so wet and so perfect, and he knew exactly what he was doing. he took you deeper than you thought possible, his throat contracting around the head of your cock, and he looked up at you through his lashes with those big brown eyes and you almost came right there.
"oh f-fuck," you gasped, fisting the sheets. "fuckfuckfuck, hyunie, your mouth—"
he pulled off with a wet pop, lips swollen and shiny, and smiled up at you. "you like that?"
"you know i do."
jaehyun laughed, soft and fond, and then his mouth was on you again, bobbing up and down in a rhythm that made your vision blur. his hand worked what his mouth couldn't reach, twisting and pumping in time with his sucks, and he was moaning around you like he was the one getting pleasured.
it was too much. it was exactly enough.
"hyunie, i'm gonna—" you warned, but he didn't pull off.
jaehyun just took you deeper, his nose pressing against your pelvis, and swallowed around you.
you cum with a cry, your back arching off the bed, your hands flying to jaehyun’s hair to hold him in place. he took it all, swallowing every single drop, and he didn't stop until you were trembling and oversensitive, pushing at his shoulders.
jaehyun pulled off you slowly, licking his lips in such a hot way, and crawled back up your body. he kissed you, and you could taste yourself on his tongue, salty and bitter, and it should have been gross but it wasn't; it was jaehyun, and everything about him made you feel good.
"told you i wanted to take my time," jaehyun murmured against your lips. "we're not done yet."
you blinked up at him, still hazy from your orgasm.
"what?"
he smiled, that stupidly pretty smile, and rolled off the bed.
you watched as jaehyun dug through his nightstand drawer, pulling out a bottle of lube and a condom. he tossed them onto the bed and then stripped off his shirt, and you forgot how to breathe for a second.
jaehyun was so beautiful. you'd known that since the day you met him, but seeing him like this — chest bare, skin golden in the lamplight, muscles moving under his skin — it never got old. jaehyun’s shoulders were broad, his waist narrow, and there was a seductive light trail of hair leading from his navel down into his sweatpants.
he caught you staring and raised an eyebrow.
"what?"
"nothing," you said quickly. "you're just hot."
jaehyun’s cheeks flushed pink, which was ridiculous because he knew damn well he was hot. but jaehyun still ducked his head like he was shy, and the gesture made something warm bloom in your chest.
"shut up," he said, but he was smiling.
he stepped out of his sweatpants and boxers, and your mouth went dry. jaehyun's dick was big — long and thick, curving slightly upward, with a vein running along the side that you liked to trace with your tongue. it was already hard, flushed red at the tip, and it looked almost too big to fit inside you.
but it always fit, eventually.
jaehyun climbed back onto the bed, settling between your legs, and his hands naturally pushed your thighs apart. he looked at you — like he was memorizing every single inch of you for the first time — and his expression softened into something so tender it made your chest ache.
"you're sure?" jaehyun asked, because he always asked. "we don't have to—"
"jaehyun." you reached for him, pulling him down so his chest was pressed against yours. "i want this. i want you. okay?"
he nodded, his breath warm against your cheek.
"okay."
he kissed you again, softly and slowly, and you let yourself sink into it. jaehyun’s hands slid down your sides, over your hips, and one of them reached for the lube; you heard the click of the bottle opening, and then his long fingers were slick and cold against your inner thigh.
"warm it up first," you mumbled against jaehyun’s lips, and he softly laughed.
"bossy."
but he rubbed the lube between his fingers, warming it, and then his hand slipped between your legs.
jaehyun’s index finger circled your hole, teasing, not pushing in yet, but just getting you used to the sensation, the pressure. you breathed out slowly, relaxing into the mattress, and he pressed a soft kiss to your temple.
"good?" he asked.
"good."
he pushed in.
just one finger, slow and careful, and you clenched around him instinctively. jaehyun waited patiently, not moving, letting you adjust, and his free hand was on your hip, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin.
"breathe," he reminded you. "you're okay. i've got you."
you breathed. the tension in your body released, and he pushed deeper, his finger sliding all the way in. he crooked it, searching, and when he found your prostate you saw stars.
"there," you gasped. "right there."
jaehyun smiled and did it again, rubbing small circles against that sweet little spot, and your back arched off the bed again. he added a second finger, stretching you open, and the burn was good — so freaking good — and you couldn't stop the sounds falling from your lips.
"hyunie, please, i'm ready, i need—"
"mmh, not yet," jaehyun said, and his voice was strained, like he was holding himself back. "i want to make sure you're stretched enough."
he added a third finger, and you cried out, your hands gripping jaehyun’s shoulders. the stretch was intense, almost too much, but he worked you open with patience and precision, his fingers curling and scissoring and pressing against your prostate every few strokes.
"so tight," he muttered, almost to himself. "so good for me. taking my fingers so well."
"hyunie," you whined, and you were past the point of shame now. "please fuck me. i need your cock. please."
something in his expression shifted, darkened. jaehyun’s eyes went hooded, his jaw tightened, and he pulled his fingers out slowly, making you whimper at the loss.
"since you asked so nicely," jaehyun said, and he reached for the condom.
but you stopped him, your hand closing around his wrist. he looked at you, confused.
"no condom," you said. "i want to feel you."
jaehyun’s eyes widened.
"are you sure? we've never—"
"i'm sure." you pulled him down, wrapping your legs around his waist. "i trust you, hyunie. i want all of you."
he stared at you for a long moment, something unreadable flickering across his face, then he nodded, slow and serious, and set the condom aside.
"okay," jaehyun said softly. "okay."
he slicked himself up with lube, his hand pumping his cock a few times, and then he positioned himself at your entrance. the head of his dick pressed against your hole, and you had to remind yourself to breathe.
"tell me if it's too much," jaehyun said, and his voice was rough. "tap my shoulder and i'll stop."
"i know. i trust you."
he pushed in.
just the tip at first, and even that was a lot.
jaehyun was big, and no matter how many times you did this, the first stretch was always intense. you gritted your teeth, focusing on breathing, on relaxing, on letting him in.
"you're doing so good," he murmured, his forehead pressed against yours. "so good for me. just a little more."
he pushed deeper, inch by inch, and your body opened up for him. the burn was there, sharp and sweet, but underneath it was pleasure, deep and overwhelming, and when he bottomed out you both let out a moan.
"f-fuck," jaehyun breathed, his eyes squeezed shut. "fuck, you feel—you're so—"
jaehyun couldn't finish the sentence, and you didn't need him to. you felt it too — the way he filled you completely, the way your bodies fit together like they were made for this, the way his heartbeat pounded against your chest.
"move," you said, your voice barely a whisper. "please move."
he pulled out slowly, almost all the way, and then pushed back in. the drag of his cock against your walls was exquisite, and you cried out, your nails digging into his back.
jaehyun found a rhythm, slow and deep, and every thrust hit your prostate dead on; you were already sensitive from your first orgasm, and the pleasure was building fast, too fast, threatening to swallow you whole.
"hyunie," you gasped, your legs tightening even more around his waist. "h-hyunie, right there, don't stop—"
"i won't," he said, and his voice was wrecked. "i won't stop. i'll give you everything. anything you want."
jaehyun’s pace increased, his hips snapping against yours, and the sound of skin on skin filled the room. he was sweating now, his hair sticking to his forehead, and he was beautiful — he was so beautiful — and you couldn't look away from him.
he changed the angle slightly, and suddenly the pleasure was blinding. your second orgasm hit you without warning, your cock spurting cum onto your stomach, and you screamed his name as your body convulsed around him.
"oh god," jaehyun groaned, and his rhythm stuttered. "you're—you just cum—"
"keep going," you said, even though you were oversensitive, even though every nerve was on fire. "don't stop, hyunie, i want you to cum inside me."
his eyes went dark, and he started moving again, faster now, chasing his own release. his thrusts were rougher, less controlled, and the overstimulation was a knife edge between pleasure and pain that made you see the stars.
"so good," he was mumbling, his voice broken and frantic. "so good, so good, you're so—i can't—"
jaehyun’s hips stuttered, and you knew he was close. you clenched around him intentionally, and he let out a sound that was almost a sob.
"fuck—i love you."
the words fell out of jaehyun like they'd been waiting for years to escape, and his eyes went wide the second he said them, and his hips stopped moving entirely.
the room went silent.
you stared at him, your chest heaving, your mind struggling to process what you'd just heard. jaehyun stared back, panic rising in his eyes, his face pale beneath the flush of arousal.
"i—" jaehyun started, and then stopped.
his jaw worked silently, like he was trying to find the words to take it back, to explain it away, but there was no taking it back now; the words hung in the air between you, heavy and real, and everything shifted.
jaehyun pulled out slowly, carefully, and the loss of him made you feel hollow in more ways than one. he sat back on his heels, still hard, still glistening with lube and your own release, and he wouldn't look at you.
"jaehyun," you said, and your voice came out raw.
"don't," he said, and his voice cracked. "please don't. i didn't mean—i mean, i did mean it, but i wasn't supposed to say it. i know we said no feelings, i know this was supposed to be casual, i know you don't—" jaehyun pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, and his shoulders shook. "fuck. i ruined it. i ruined everything."
you sat up slowly, your body aching and oversensitive, and you reached for him. your hand found jaehyun’s wrist, tugging his hands away from his face, and when he finally looked at you, his eyes were bright with unshed tears.
"hyunie," you said softly. "how long?"
he blinked. "what?"
"how long have you felt this way?"
jaehyun was quiet for a long moment, and then, so quietly you almost didn't hear him;
"months. maybe longer. i don't know. it just—it happened. and i tried to ignore it, i really did, but every time we—" he gestured vaguely at the bed, at your bodies, at everything. "it just made it worse. being with you, touching you, having you like this and knowing i couldn't have you the way i really wanted—"
his voice broke, and he looked away again.
"i'm sorry," jaehyun whispered, and his voice was trembling. "i know this isn't what you signed up for. i know you don't feel the same way. and i swear, i never meant to make things weird. i just—i couldn't help it. i love you. and i hate that i love you because it hurts, but i can't stop."
your chest felt like it was caving in.
because here was the thing; you'd told yourself this was casual, you'd told yourself you didn't have feelings, that you just wanted sex, that jaehyun was a friend and nothing more. but somewhere along the way, maybe the same way it had happened for him, the lines had blurred.
you loved the way he smiled at you, soft and private, like you were the only person in the world. you loved the way he said your name, the way it sounded in his deep voice. you loved the way he held you after sex, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin, even though you'd never asked him to. you loved the way he remembered things — your coffee order, the name of your childhood pet, the fact that you were scared of thunder.
you loved him. you'd been loving him for a while, probably, and you'd been too scared to admit it.
"jaehyun," you said again, and this time your voice was steady.
he flinched, bracing himself.
you cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. his cheeks were wet now, tears spilling over despite his best efforts, and you wiped them away with your thumbs.
"i'm not mad," you said.
jaehyun froze. "what?"
"i'm not mad. i'm not weirded out. i'm not going anywhere."
his brow furrowed, confusion replacing the panic.
"but you said—we said—"
"i know what we said." you stroked his cheekbones, his jaw, the corners of his mouth. "and i meant it at the time. but things change, hyunie. people change. feelings change."
jaehyun’s breath caught. "are you saying—"
"i'm saying i love you too." the words felt terrifying and freeing all at once. "i don't know exactly when it happened, or how, but it did. and i was too scared to say anything because i didn't want to lose you either."
he stared at you, his eyes wide and disbelieving.
"you're not just saying that?"
"i'm not just saying that."
"you really—"
"yes, jaehyun. i really love you."
a sound escaped him, something between a laugh and a sob, and then he was kissing you.
it was desperate and messy and perfect, his arms wrapping around you so tightly you could barely breathe. you kissed him back just as fiercely, pouring everything you hadn't said into the press of your lips, the slide of your tongue.
when you finally broke apart, both of you were crying a little, and it was ridiculous and sappy and you didn't care.
"i love you," jaehyun said again, like he was testing the words out loud, letting them be real.
"i love you too," you said back, and it felt like coming home.
jaehyun laughed, wet and shaky, and pressed his forehead against yours. "so what now?"
you thought about it; you thought about the mess of cum on your stomach, the lube on the sheets, the fact that jaehyun was still hard and pressing against your thigh. you thought about the way your heart was pounding, the way his hands were trembling on your hips.
"now," you said slowly with a smile, "i think you should finish what you started."
jaehyun’s eyebrows shot up.
"you want to—after everything—"
"jaehyun." you kissed the corner of his mouth, his jaw, his neck. "i just told you i love you. and you're still hard. and i'm still kind of stretched open from before. and i really, really want to feel you cum inside me."
he groaned, his hips jerking against yours involuntarily.
"you're going to kill me."
"is that a yes?"
jaehyun kissed you hard, his tongue sliding against yours, and then he was pushing you back down onto the mattress.
this time was different; you could feel it in the way he touched you, slower and more deliberate, like he was savoring every second. jaehyun kissed down your body again, but this time he lingered, pressing his lips to your chest, your stomach, the inside of your thighs. he kissed the marks he'd left earlier, soothing them with his warm tongue, and a new one appeared below your navel — a gentle bite that made you gasp.
"i love you," he murmured against your skin, and the words sent shivers down your spine. "i love your shoulders. i love your collarbones. i love the way you smell, like soap and something sweet. i love the sounds you make when i touch you."
"hyunie," you breathed, and your voice was thick with emotion.
he looked up at you, his eyes soft and glowing, and smiled.
"let me worship you, baby. please. let me show you how much i love you."
you nodded, because, well… you couldn't speak, and jaehyun went back to work.
he took his time with your cock, licking and sucking and kissing until you were writhing and begging. he didn't let you cum, though — he pulled back every time you got close, leaving you teetering on the edge.
"not yet," jaehyun said, and his voice was rough. "want you to cum when i'm inside you."
he flipped you over, onto your stomach, and you heard him slick himself up again. his hands spread your cheeks apart, and you felt his breath hot against your hole, and before you could process what was happening, his tongue was inside you.
"oh f-fuck," you loudly gasped, your face pressing into the pillow. "jaehyun—"
he hummed against you, the vibration making your toes curl, and his tongue worked you open, licking and sucking and teasing. his nose pressed against your skin, and he moaned like he was the one being pleasured.
"taste so good," he mumbled, and the words were muffled but you heard them anyway. "could do this forever."
he rimmed you until you were a trembling mess, your legs shaking, your hands fisting the sheets, then he pulled back, and you heard him spit — gross, but so hot — and then the head of his cock was pressing against your hole again.
"ready?" jaehyun asked.
"yes, god, yes, please—"
jaehyun pushed in, and this time there was no burn, and no resistance. your body welcomed him warmly, opened up for him, and jaehyun slid in all the way in one smooth movement that made you both cry out.
"fuck," jaehyun groaned, his hands gripping your hips. "you feel—i can't—"
"move," you begged. "please move, i need you to move."
and he did.
slow at first, pulling out almost all the way before pushing back in, and the drag of his huge cock against your walls was exquisite. jaehyun was hitting your prostate with every single thrust, and the pleasure was building, a slow burn that threatened to consume you entirely.
"harder," you said, pushing back against him. "please, harder."
jaehyun obliged, his pace increasing, his hips slapping against your ass. the sound was obscene, wet and loud, and you didn't care. you wanted more. you wanted everything.
"jaehyun," you moaned, and his name was a prayer on your lips. "right there, don't stop, i'm gonna—"
he reached around and wrapped his hand around your cock, pumping in time with his thrusts, and the double stimulation was too much. you cum with a scream, your body convulsing around him, and he swore loudly.
"so tight," jaehyun gasped, and his hips stuttered. "you're squeezing me so tight, i can't—"
"inside," you managed, your voice wrecked. "cum inside me. please, hyunie, i want to feel it."
jaehyun thrust into you three more times, deep and desperate, and then he was coming. you felt it — the pulse of jaehyun’s cock, the heat of his release filling you up — and he groaned your name like a benediction, collapsing onto your back.
you lay there for a long moment, both of you panting, sweaty, tangled together. his weight was heavy on top of you, but you didn't mind. you liked it. you liked the way he pressed you into the mattress, the way his breath was hot against your neck, the way his heart pounded against your spine.
"i love you," jaehyun whispered into your skin, and you felt the words more than you heard them.
"i love you too," you whispered back.
he pulled out slowly, and you both winced at the loss.
jaehyun rolled off you, onto his back, and he stared at the white ceiling. you turned your head to look at him, and he was smiling — a real smile, so wide and so bright and so full of joy it made your chest ache.
"that was—" he started.
"yeah," you agreed. "it was."
jaehyun laughed, soft and breathless, and turned onto his side to face you. his hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone, and his eyes traced your face like he was seeing it for the first time.
"i can't believe you love me back," he said quietly. "i thought—i was so sure you didn't. i was so scared of losing you."
"you're not going to lose me," you said, covering his hand with yours. "i'm not going anywhere."
his eyes glistened again, but this time the tears were happy. he leaned in and kissed you, soft and slow and full of promise.
a little moment after that, jaehyun disappeared into his dorm’s bathroom and came back with a warm washcloth. he cleaned you up carefully, wiping the cum from your stomach and the lube from between your legs. his touch was so gentle, almost reverent, and jaehyun pressed kisses to your hip, your thigh, your knee as he worked.
"you did so good," jaehyun murmured softly. "you always do so good for me."
you were too tired to respond, floating in a haze of endorphins and contentment. he tossed the washcloth aside and pulled you into his arms, arranging you so your head was on his chest and his arms were wrapped around you.
"stay," jaehyun said, and it wasn't really a question. "please. stay the night."
"wasn't planning on leaving," you mumbled against his skin.
he laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest, and his fingers started tracing patterns on your back. you closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the warmth of him, the steady beat of jaehyun’s heart.
"hey," he said after a while, his voice soft.
"hmm?"
"i meant it. everything i said."
you opened your eyes and tilted your head back to look at him. jaehyun’s face was fully open, vulnerable, all his walls down for the very first time.
"i know," you said. "me too."
he smiled, that small, dimpled smile that had made you fall for him in the first place, and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
"go to sleep," he said. "we can talk more in the morning."
"promise?"
"promise."
you closed your eyes again, and the last thing you felt before sleep took you was jaehyun's lips on your hair, soft and warm, and the quiet whisper of his voice in the dark.
"i love you. i love you. i love you."
you woke up the next morning to sunlight streaming through the blinds and jaehyun's arm draped across your waist.
for a small moment, you didn't remember.
you simply felt warm and comfortable and so safe, and you didn't want to move at all. but then the events of last night came flooding back — the sex, the confession, the crying, the sex again — and your eyes snapped open.
jaehyun was watching you.
his head was propped on his hand, elbow sunk into the pillow, and he was looking at you with an expression you couldn't quite read. there was hope there, and fear, and something soft and tender that made your heart skip.
"good morning," jaehyun said quietly.
"morning," you said back, your voice rough with sleep.
he was quiet for a moment, his thumb stroking back and forth across your hip. then he said, carefully;
"do you remember what you said last night?"
you did. of course you did. you remembered every single word, every single look, every single touch.
"i love you," you said, and the words came easier this time. "i love you, jaehyun. i meant it."
his whole body relaxed, like he'd been holding his breath and had finally been allowed to exhale. a smile spread across his pretty face, bright and relieved, and he pulled you closer, burying his face in your hair.
"i love you too," jaehyun said, his voice muffled. "i love you so much it scares me sometimes."
"i know," you said, and you wrapped your arms around him, holding on tight. "me too."
you lay there for a long time, just holding each other, not talking. the morning light shifted across the room, and somewhere outside, someone was playing music too loud. it was ordinary and perfect and exactly what you needed.
finally, jaehyun pulled back just enough to look at you. his hair was a complete mess, sticking up in every direction, and there were pillow creases on his cheek, and he was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen in your entire life.
"sooo," jaehyun said, and there was a hint of his usual playfulness in his voice, "does this mean we're not friends with benefits anymore?"
you laughed, the sound surprising you.
"i think we graduated to something else, yeah."
"boyfriends?" he asked, and his eyes were hopeful.
"boyfriends," you agreed.
jaehyun kissed you, soft and sweet, and when he pulled back his smile was so wide it made his eyes crinkle.
"boyfriends," jaehyun said again, like he was trying it on for size. "yeah, i like that."
"me too."
he kissed you again, and then again, and then his hand started wandering south, and you raised an eyebrow at him.
"already?" you asked.
"i've been in love with you for months," jaehyun said, grinning against your neck. "i have a lot of time to make up for."
!-yunho, a streamer who recently gained attraction for his fun personality, good lookings, and cracked game play, doesn't know how to handle the attention yet basks in it like never before and y/n a struggling university student who has a more then a...bright history with the man! what will the two do?-!
AN: Very self-indulgent. Hate when body decides to torture you and that you can't do anything else but lay in bed
You sat at a park bench enjoying the fresh breeze passing through. The trees shade covering you from the suns heat.
"I got us water"
You looked up and there he was, Jongho holding 2 water bottles.
"Thanks" you said.
"No problem, I was wondering if you would want to go for a walk its nice out and a little walking never hurt anyone" Jongho looked at you expectantly giving you one of his sweet smiles.
"Fine only because you look so cute right now"
"Not cute!"
"Yeah whatever you say now come on lets go" you exclaimed while trying to avoid his swat at your arm.
The trek through the park was going great. While walking at some point you had intertwined your pinkies together while slowly drifting closer. At first the both of you had talked about anything and everything but now it was just met with a comfortable silence.
During the walk however, you felt a slight pulsing in your abdomen. You ignored it at first thinking nothing of it. Then the pain hit slow at first and then with an intensity. You grimaced but didn't say anything thinking and hoping it was a one time thing. Of course Jongho noticed but didn't mention anything at first trusting you to say something to him. However he did make sure to keep a careful eye on you.
You kept walking pretending it didn't happen until it hit you again. You let go of Jonghos hand to hold it near where the pain was to get some relief.
"You okay?" He asked with worry.
"I'm fine" you said through clenched teeth.
However, at this point you needed to find a nearby seat, anything, to sit down otherwise you probably would have collapsed. Before you could bolt to the nearest bench Jongho put one arm over his shoulder and the other near your waist.
He looked you in the eyes with his tone that suggested no chance of debate.
"Look I know you're a stong guy and I like that about you, but, I'm your partner so let me help you."
You held eye contact hoping to crumble his resolve but after a few seconds you realized that he had no intentions of backing down.
You looked away and with a barely there whisper
"I want to go home please"
And without hesitation he helped you get back to you apartment.
Once home you pushed yourself of him and stumbled to your room.
You took everything off leaving you in just your boxers as you curled into yourself on the bed. You decided to rest just so you could pass the time and not deal with the pain. You had no expectations of Jongho staying anyways. After all what was the point of it all, you could barely hold a conversation the way you are now.
Jongho stood at the entrance of your apartment unsure of what to do. He didn't know if you wanted him to leave. He decided the best course would be to go out to buy your favorite foods and drinks and come back. That way whether you woke up or not you would still have something to eat.
You had woken up still in pain but much more manageable. You don't exactly remember when you went to sleep or for how long. You look out the window to see the sun had already set.
You decided to get off the bed and put on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, then head to the kitchen to at least get something in your stomach.
The closer you got to the door of your bedroom the more you noticed a shuffling noise.
You were scared that you or Jongho had maybe left the door unlocked. With this thought you grabbed the nearest thing you could find to protect yourself and slowly pushed the door open.
Just as the door had fully opened, jongho just stepped out the kitchen making direct eye contact with you.
There was a moment of silence with Jonghos eyes flickering to the object in your hand then back to you. You slowly hid your momentary weapon behind your back.
"Jongho umm what are you still doing here I though you left already" you stammered with a nervous laugh
"Well I did but I wanted to make you something to eat, but if this is how I'm treated then I'll just take it home" he sighed sarcastically
"Wait you came back? Why?" You set aside what you were holding and slowly made you way to close the distance.
"I could have been asleep or stayed in bed for the whole day, maybe not even wake up till tomorrow, there was no guarantee that your efforts would have been appreciated"
"I even cut our day short and we didn't get to do any of the fun things we had planned and then for you to sit around here with nothing to do, I'm sorry" you exclaimed wrapping your arms around yourself.
"Woah, why are you apologizing, you know if didn't want to I would not have done it" he questioned while putting the food down
"I just feel bad you could have used that ti --"
"Ok enough come over here" he demand with his arms open.
You slowy approached and wrapped your arms around him accepting the hug.
He squeezed back, his hug was warm and in that moment it truly felt as if nothing was ever wrong.
You stayed like that for a while Jongho not letting go and letting you choose when to break the hug.
After a couple more minutes you broke apart but intertwined one of you hands together giving it a squeeze to show your appreciation.
"Ok I'm done being a sad man, what did you make to eat?"
"I decided to cook your favorite but since you took so long it's probably cold by now" he said with a humorous smile, while flicking your forehead.
"Bastard at least I woke up so be happy I decided to bless you with my presence" you retorted.
"Hmmm I don't know about that, because not too long ago if i remember I was about to be attacked"
"Whatever" you relented and gave him a peck on the lips
Without parting too far you looked him in the eye with so much adoration and softly whispered "Thank you truly."
you distract your gamer boyfriend mid-match until he completely falls apart.
𝓬𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 2.9k words, 18+ [ MDNI! ], explicit sexual content, heavy overstimulation, crying, spit as lube, multiple orgasms in a row, semi-public (mic is on), handjob, blowjob, begging, yunho is a trembling & whimpering mess, cum swallowing, grinding, body convulsions, hypersensitivity.
you're sprawled across the bed, chin propped on your palm, watching the back of yunho's head with an expression that's slowly curdling from patience into something sharper.
he's been at it for three hours.
three hours of him hunched over his gaming chair, headset clamped over his ears, fingers dancing across his keyboard like you don't even exist in the same room. the occasional curse slips out — "oh, that's bullshit" — or a sharp laugh when one of his friends says something stupid; you can hear them through the back of yunho’s headset, tinny and distant, a whole world you've been locked out of since eight pm.
and it's almost eleven now.
you've tried everything; you brought him a snack an hour ago — you set it on his desk, let your fingers trail across his shoulders, but yunho only mumbled "thanks, baby," without even looking away from his damn monitor. you'd stood behind him for a solid minute, watching the back of his neck, the way his muscles shifted under his loose t-shirt.
nothing, not even a glance.
you tried sitting on the bed and just... existing, prettily so. you're in one of yunho’s hoodies and nothing else, legs bare, socks with cute little hearts on them. usually that's enough to make him drop everything, usually he'd be on you within seconds, all long limbs and eager hands.
but valorant has your boyfriend in a chokehold tonight, and frankly, you're tired of competing with a video game.
so you wait, you watch, and you plan.
yunho's got this thing he always does when he's focused — his tongue pokes out just slightly, wetting his lower lip, and his eyebrows pinch together. he's so so beautiful like this, all sharp concentration, but you want him beautiful in a different way; you want him wrecked.
you slide off the bed quietly, padding across the carpet until you're right behind his chair. he doesn't notice. of course he doesn't notice; his friends are yelling something about a rotate, and yunho's voice is all clipped efficiency:
"i'm anchoring, i'm anchoring, just push—"
you drop your hands onto his shoulders.
yunho startles, just a little.
"oh—hey, baby. one sec," his eyes never leave the screen.
you don't say anythin, you simply start kneading the tension out of his trapezius muscles, slowly and cautiously. yunho’s shoulders are tight as rocks under your palms, and you feel him exhale as your thumbs dig into a knot.
"that's nice," he murmurs. "feels good."
you lean down, mouth brushing the shell of his ear.
"yeah?"
yunho shivers; you feel it travel down his spine, but his hands keep moving on the keyboard, and his brown eyes stay fixed on that glowing rectangle of chaos.
you could cry from frustration, but instead, you get creative.
your hands slide down from yunho’s shoulders, over his chest, dragging slow across his pectorals; you can feel his heartbeat under your palm — steady, but picking up just a little.
your fingers find the hem of his t-shirt and slip underneath, skating across the warm skin of his stomach.
yunho's breath hitches.
"babe, i'm in the middle of—"
"i know," you say sweetly against his ear. "you're doing so so good, yun."
his stomach tenses under your touch.
you slowly trace the lines of his abdominals, feather-light, watching yunho’s grip tighten on his mouse. his character on screen does something jerky — misses a shot, probably, and one of his friends groans over comms.
"yunho, what the hell was that?"
"nothing," he says, voice slightly strained. "misclick."
you smile, and your hands drift lower, thumbs hooking into the waistband of his gray joggers; they're soft, slightly worn, and they hang low on his hips, and it’s so fucking hot—
"baby," his voice has a warning edge now, but it's shaky. "can this wait? we're in overtime."
you don't answer, you simply slip one of your hand under the waistband, palm flattening against his lower belly, fingers trailing through the fine hair below his navel.
yunho is already half-hard; you can feel it, the way his cock twitches against your questing fingers, the way his hips push forward just a little, involuntarily.
"oh," you breathe. "someone's distracted."
yunho's jaw clenches. his character is standing still in a corner of the map, and his teammates are yelling at him.
"yunho! move! they're pushing A!"
your boyfriend forces his hands to move. you watch his fingers fumble on the keyboard, and something hot curls low in your belly. he's trying so hard to focus. it's adorable.
your hand dips lower, wrapping around his half-hard length through his boxers. he's warm, already leaking a little, and you stroke him once — slow, measured, from base to tip.
yunho makes a sound. it's barely a whimper, swallowed down fast, but you hear it, and your body responds instantly, a rush of heat spreading through your core.
"shh," you whisper. "don't want your friends to hear, do you?"
he shakes his head, a tiny, frantic movement. his ears are now completely red; you can see the flush creeping down his neck, disappearing under his t-shirt collar, and he's gripping his mouse so hard his knuckles are white.
you pull your hand out of his joggers, just for a moment, and yunho makes a confused, almost wounded noise — but then you're hooking your fingers into the waistband and tugging down just enough to free him.
yunho’s cock springs up, flushed and already leaking, the tip shiny and pink. he's not fully hard yet but he's close, and god, you love this part, you love watching him get there.
you spit into your palm, and you hear yunho's breath catch as you wrap your hand around him again, slick and warm.
"oh," yunho breathes. "oh—fuck."
"language," you tease, but your voice is lower now, rougher.
you start stroking him properly, slow and firm, twisting your wrist at the top the way you know he likes, and yunho's hips naturally buck into your hand.
his character is still standing in that corner, and someone on his team is screaming about a spike.
"yunho, what the fuck are you doing?"
"i—" his voice cracks. "i got—someone's at the door, hold on—"
he's lying, and it's terrible. you're both aware of how terrible it is, but you don't call him out, you just keep stroking him, steady and unrelenting, and watch him fall apart in real time.
yunho’s thighs are trembling; you can feel it through the fabric of his joggers, the way his muscles keep twitching, fighting the urge to just shove back from the desk and drag you onto his lap. but he doesn't. he stays in his chair, hands still on keyboard and mouse, because he's stubborn and competitive and he really wanted to win this game.
well… too bad for him.
you speed up just a little, and your thumb swipes over yunho’s slit, spreading the slickness there, and your boyfriend makes a sound that's almost a sob.
"baby, please," he whispers, just loud enough for you to hear.
"please what?" you ask innocently, still stroking, still watching the way his stomach is clenching and unclenching.
yunho doesn't answer, because he can't.
one of his friends is yelling something about a flank, and yunho forces his character to move, running him across the map in a straight line that makes no tactical sense. he's not even trying anymore, he's just going through the motions, and you can feel how close he is — the way his cock is throbbing in your hand, the way his breath is coming in short, sharp pants.
"you're gonna cum," you murmur. "aren't you, baby?"
yunho nods frantically.
his bottom lip is caught between his teeth, and his eyes are glassy, staring at the screen without really seeing it.
"not yet," you decide, and you let go.
yunho actually chokes; it was a desperate, punched-out sound that he tries to turn into a cough.
"what—why—"
"i want to taste you."
you don't wait for permission, you simply drop to your knees behind yunho’s chair, nudging his thighs apart with your shoulders, and then you're leaning in, your mouth closing over the head of your boyfriend’s cock. yunho tastes like salt and skin, that familiar warmth that makes your mouth water.
you swirl your tongue around the tip, lapping up the precum that's beaded just there, and yunho's whole body convulses.
"oh my god," he gasps. "oh my god, oh my god—"
"quiet," you remind him, pulling off just enough to speak. "mic."
yunho slaps a hand over his own mouth, and his pretty eyes are huge, panicked and desperate all at once, and you don't give him time to recover; you take him deeper, sinking down until he hits the back of your throat, and you hear the muffled sound of his scream behind his palm.
his hand flies off the keyboard. his character is running into a wall now, and one of his friends is saying something like:
"yunho, are you okay? your character's just—"
but yunho doesn't answer. hell, he can't.
you're bobbing your head now, setting a rhythm that's relentless, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock to stroke what your mouth can't reach. you're messy about it; spit is dripping down your chin, down his length, and you don't care at all. you just want to make him fall apart.
and he completely is.
yunho’s thighs are shaking violently, his hips jerking up into your mouth even though he's clearly trying to stay still. his hand is still clamped over his mouth, but the sounds are escaping anyway — whimpers, high and desperate, barely muffled by his palm. his other hand is still on his mouse, but he's not moving it; he's just gripping it like a lifeline, knuckles white, his whole arm trembling.
you pull off with a wet sound, just to watch him, just to see the way his chest is heaving, the way his eyes are screwed shut, tears clinging to his lashes.
"look at me," you say.
he does. yunho’s eyes open, and they're so blown out you can barely see the brown. his lips are wet and parted, and there's a tear already tracking down his cheek.
"so pretty," you tell him. "you're doing so well."
he shakes his head frantically.
"i can't—i'm gonna—"
"i know."
you take him back in your mouth before he can finish, and this time you don't hold back; you suck him like you mean it, hard and fast, your throat working around him, and you feel the exact moment he breaks.
yunho cums with a strangled cry, muffled by his own hand, his whole body arching up out of the chair. his release hits the back of your throat, hot and thick, and you swallow it down without stopping, without slowing, even as his hips are jerking and his thighs are trembling and he's making these broken, keening sounds that you know his friends can probably hear.
but you don't stop.
yunho's hand drops from his mouth.
"wait—wait, please, i just—"
but you keep going.
your tongue drags slow and flat over the head, and the noise yunho makes isn't human; it's a raw, punched-out gasp that cracks in the middle, and his whole body seizes — not just a flinch, but a real convulsion, spine bowing forward, shoulders hunching, his hips snapping back like he's trying to escape. but the chair traps him. there's nowhere to go.
"s’too much," yunho wheezes.
his hands fly down to your head, but his fingers don't push you, they just tangle in your hair, gripping hard, knuckles pressed against your scalp.
"s’too much, baby, please—"
you ignore him, and you suck gently, just the tip, and yunho’s thighs slam together around your ears; you have to push them apart again with your forearms, and you feel the muscles there jumping, spasming, completely out of his control.
"i can't—" his voice breaks into a real sob, wet and loud, and you hear one of his friends on the mic go quiet for a second.
"yunho? dude, you okay?"
you've taken him deeper again, and his hips are twitching in these short, jerky little thrusts that he's clearly not deciding to do. his body is just doing things now. his stomach keeps clenching and unclenching under his shirt, and you watch a bead of sweat roll down his temple, catching in his eyebrow.
you pull off to breathe, and the sound yunho makes is almost angry, and so so so desperate.
"please," he gets out. "please, it's so much—it's so much—"
your hand wraps around him again, loose and wet, and you don't move it, you just hold him, feel how hard he's trembling.
"i'm gonna die," yunho whispers, and his voice is tiny.
you laugh softly and lean back in, and this time you don't even take him all the way; you just mouth at the side of his shaft, lips dragging over the sensitive skin, and yunho jerks so hard his elbow knocks his water bottle off the desk. it hits the floor with a loud thunk, but neither of you look at it.
you can feel him softening a little, his body trying to retreat from the overstimulation, but you don't let up.
no, instead, you lick a slow stripe from the base of his cock to tip, and yunho’s breath hitches into a rhythm that's not breathing anymore — it's just gasping, open-mouthed and wet, his chest heaving like he's been running.
"one more," you say against his skin.
"i can't," he gets out, but his voice cracks on the vowel. "i can't, i literally cannot—"
you take him back in your mouth, just the head, and you suck.
it's not hard, it's almost gentle, but it's too much for him now, and you feel it the second his body gives up fighting. his whole frame goes rigid first — every muscle locked, his hands fisting in your hair hard enough to sting — and then he shatters.
it's not a normal orgasm; there's barely anything left, just a weak pulse, a few drops of fluid that you taste more than feel, but yunho’s body doesn't care.
he convulses like he's having a seizure, hips bucking off the chair, back arching so hard his shoulder blades press together. his mouth falls open in a silent scream, no air left to power it, and then the sound comes after — a raw, guttural cry that tears out of his throat and doesn't stop.
yunho’s legs kick out; one of his feet catches the desk leg, and the whole thing rattles.
his mouse skitters off the pad, his keyboard clacks as his chest slams into it, and he's still shaking, still convulsing, little aftershocks rippling through his thighs and his stomach and his hands, which are still twisted in your hair, holding on like you're the only solid thing in the room.
you stay where you are, mouth soft around his cock, but you’re not moving, you’re simply waiting.
it takes a long time for the spasms to slow down.
yunho’s breathing is all over the place — three short inhales, one long shuddering exhale, then nothing, then a gasp like he forgot how to breath. his long fingers loosen in your hair one by one, and his hand falls limp against the side of your face, palm sweaty and trembling.
you pull off slowly, carefully, and yunho’s whole body flinches at the loss of contact.
"hey," you whisper. "baby, you're okay."
he's not okay.
yunho’s is wrecked — tears and snot and spit all smeared together, his lips chapped and bitten raw. his eyes are half-closed, unfocused, the pupils still blown wide, and there's a wet patch on his shirt collar from where he's been crying.
you sit back on your heels and just look at him.
he's still shaking; little tremors, constant, running through his shoulders and his hands. yunho’s chest is hitching with these tiny, involuntary sobs that he doesn't seem to be aware of anymore. his character is dead on the screen — you notice distantly that his team lost, that the defeat screen is glowing on the monitor — but neither of you care.
finally, finally, you stand up.
you reach out and brush the damp hair off yunho’s forehead, and he flinches at your touch, too sensitive, still. but then he leans into it, just a little, his eyes flutter closed.
"baby," you say softly.
"you're mean," he whispers, his voice is completely destroyed, raw and cracked.
yunho just lies there, breathing in shaky hitches, while you stand up and grab a towel from the bathroom to clean him up. you're gentle this time, wiping away the mess, and he hisses when you brush against his cock but doesn't pull away.
you're tucking him back into his joggers when you hear it; a small, tinny voice from his headset.
"uh... yunho? dude, your mic is still on."
yunho's eyes snap open, and all the blood drains from his pretty face, then rushes back twice as fast, turning him crimson from his chest to his hairline.
"oh my god," he whispers.
you bite your lip to keep from laughing, you really do.
"oh my god," yunho says again, louder this time.
and you can hear his friends in the headset — someone is wheezing, someone else is saying; "i'm never letting him live this down," and the third person just keeps repeating "i heard everything, everything, i need therapy—"
yunho rips the headset off and throws it onto the desk, and he buries his face in his hands, shoulders shaking, and you can't tell if he's crying or laughing or both.
"i'm never playing with them again," yunho says, muffled. "i'm moving to a new country. i'm changing my name."
you climb into his lap, ignoring his weak little protest, and wrap your arms around his neck. yunho still trembling, still so so so oversensitive, but he holds you back, completely burying his face in your shoulder.
"you lost your game," you say, pressing a kiss to his temple.
"i don't care about the fucking game."
you grin. "good. because i want round two."
yunho groans, but his hips twitch against yours, and you feel him start to stir again, and you know he's definitely going to let you ruin him all over again.
𝓲𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 ♰ choso gets caught masturbating to you in your bed, but the humiliation rapidly flips into a heated confession when you reveal you want him just as badly and turn it into something mutual.
✿ ◞◟) kamo choso 𝓍 gn!reader
𝓬𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 18+ [ MDNI! ], explicit sexual content, choso jerking off in reader’s bed, crying during sex, heavy begging, praise kink, begging, choso is desperate & pathetic, overstimulation, choso is desperate as hell, kissing, grinding, confessions mid-sex, handjob, big dick!choso implied, riding, creampie.
the first thing choso registers is the ache.
it’s a deep, pulsing thrum that’s settled low in his gut, an insistent pressure that’s been building for hours, ever since he’d seen you walk out the door.
you’d been wearing that soft, worn-out hoodie, the one that hangs off your shoulder just a little, and you’d smiled at him — just a regular, friendly smile, the kind you gave him a hundred times a day — and it had been enough to send choso’s blood rushing south, enough to leave him stupid and half-hard on the couch, trying to focus on a textbook he couldn’t read.
choso had waited, he’d told himself he’d be fine, that he could simply wait until you were asleep, that he could take care of this pathetic, shameful need in the privacy of his own room like he always did. but his room was too far, and the scent of you was everywhere in here — your room, your bed, your hoodie; the one you’d left draped over the desk chair, the one that smells so intensely of you it makes his head spin.
so he’d caved; choso had crawled into your bed like the lovesick, desperate fool he is, pulled your hoodie over his head, and now here he is.
choso is on his back, one hand fisted in your sheets, while the other is wrapped around his cock, and he’s so far gone he doesn’t even recognize himself.
his strokes are frantic and jerky, all pent-up frustration and yearning. his thumb swipes over the leaking slit with every upward pull, spreading the slickness, and the wet, obscene sound of it fills your quiet room. choso is biting his lip so hard he tastes copper, trying to muffle the sounds that are clawing their way out of his throat.
it’s not enough. it’s never enough.
“fuck,” he breathes, the word a shaky, broken whisper.
choso’s hips jerk up into his fist, chasing the friction. his mind is a haze of you; your laugh, the way your hand felt on his arm the other day; so casual, so innocent, while he’d felt like his skin was on fire, your smile; that stupid, perfect smile.
he buries his face in the pillow that smells like your shampoo, inhales deep, and his hand moves faster. he’s imagining it’s your hand, your mouth, your body pressing him down into the mattress, finally, finally wanting him back.
a sob gets caught in choso’s chest.
it’s so pathetic. he’s so pathetic — he’s twenty-three years old, and he’s in his best friend’s bed, wearing their clothes, jerking himself raw because he’s been in love with them for so long it’s become a fundamental part of who he is.
oh, choso is close, he’s so so so close, his balls drawn up tight, and a high-pitched whine building in his throat, his hand a complete blur of motion—
and then he hears the front door open, and the world stops.
choso’s entire body locks up, a cold wave of horror crashing over the heat in his veins. his hand freezes on his cock, still slick, still painfully hard, and his eyes fly open, wide and wild in the dim light. choso hears your keys jangle as you drop them on the hall table, he hears your familiar footsteps, your pretty voice, a little tired, calling out;
“cho? you home?”
he can’t move. he can’t breathe. he’s a deer in headlights, trapped in your bed, wearing your hoodie, with his cock out and glistening in the low light.
your footsteps approach your bedroom door. choso opens his mouth to say something — to warn you, to lie, to do literally anything — but his voice has completely deserted him.
the door swings open.
you’re standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the hall light, and you’re looking at him. at the scene. at him, in your bed, in your clothes, hand frozen on his flushed, leaking cock.
choso’s face drains of all color, then floods with a burning, mortified red. his eyes are already stinging, the shame so potent it’s a physical weight crushing his chest.
“fuck,” he chokes out, the word cracking.
he scrambles to pull your hoodie down, to cover himself, to do anything, but his limbs feel like they’re made of lead.
“no, no, no, wait—this isn’t—i’m so sorry—”
choso’s voice is trembling, on the verge of tears. he can’t look at you. he can’t bear to see the disgust, the anger, the loss of everything he’s ever cared about written on your face.
“please,” choso whispers, and a tear finally slips free, tracing a hot path down his pink cheek. “please, i’m so sorry. i’ll—i’ll move out, i’ll go, just—please don’t hate me, please, i didn’t mean—i’m so sorry—”
he’s babbling, a steady stream of apologies as more tears fall, his whole body shaking. choso can’t breathe. the room is spinning. he’s ruined it. he’s ruined everything.
but you’re not saying anything, and you’re not leaving.
choso forces himself to look up, blinking through the blur of tears. you’re still in the doorway, but you’re not looking at him with disgust, no, your eyes are dark, focused, and there’s a flush creeping up your neck that he’s never seen before.
you step into the room, and you push the door closed behind you. the soft click of the latch feels deafening.
“cho,” you say, and your voice is different; low, a little rough.
choso flinches, another apology ready on his lips, but you’re moving closer. you walk to the side of the bed, and he’s frozen, watching you with wide, tear-filled eyes. you just look at him for a moment — at his tear-streaked face, his swollen lips, the obvious tent still straining against your hoodie.
you reach out, and he thinks you’re going to hit him, or push him away. but instead, your hand comes to rest on his cheek, your thumb gently wipes away a tear.
choso’s breath hitches, and his heart is slamming against his ribs so hard it hurts.
“is this what you were thinking about?” you ask, your voice a low murmur. “when you were…?”
oh, choso can’t lie. not to you. not now. he gives a tiny, jerky nod, another tear spilling over.
your eyes darken further. “me?”
“you,” he breathes, the word a confession, a prayer. “always you. only you.”
something seems to shifts in your expression; the last trace of hesitation, of shock, completely melts away, leaving only a raw, consuming want that mirrors his own.
“good,” you say, and then you’re climbing onto the bed, straddling his hips, and his brain short-circuits.
“what are you—” choso starts, his voice high and panicked, but the words simply die in his throat as you lean down and press your lips to his.
and it’s not a gentle kiss. hell, it’s hungry, desperate, like you’ve been holding back just as long as he has.
your mouth moves against his, your tongue sliding along the seam of choso’s lips, and he opens for you with a broken moan. he tastes salt — his own tears — and you, and it’s the most intoxicating thing he’s ever experienced.
choso’s hands, which had been frozen at his sides, come up to grip your hips. he’s shaking. he’s shaking so hard, he can’t believe you can’t feel it. his fingers dig into the fabric of your jeans, needing something to hold onto, something to anchor him because he feels like he’s about to float away.
you pull back just enough to look at him; choso’s lips are parted, wet, and his chest heaving. your name falls from his lips in a ragged whisper.
“i want you,” you say, your voice firm despite the way your own breath is coming in short gasps. “choso, i want you so bad. is that okay? tell me it’s okay.”
choso lets out a sound that’s half-laugh, half-sob.
“okay? yes—fuck, yes—please—”
the word 'please' dissolves into a gasp as your hips roll down against him. even through your jeans, even through your hoodie he’s still wearing, the pressure is electric. choso’s cock, still achingly hard, jerks at the contact, and a low, guttural groan is ripped from his chest.
“please what?” you ask, and there’s a hint of a smile on your lips, a teasing glint in your eyes that makes him want to both cry and kiss you senseless.
choso is so overwhelmed; his brain is static, every single thought consumed by the feel of you on top of him, the fact that you want him, that you’re here, touching him. his hands slide up from your hips, fingers trembling as they slip under the hem of your shirt, just to feel your skin.
the touch makes you shiver, and the sight of it sends a bolt of pure, possessive heat through him.
“touch me,” choso begs, his voice wrecked. “please, i need—i’ve needed you for so long, please just—”
you lean down again, your lips slowly brushing against the shell of choso’s ear, and your hand slides down his chest, over the soft fabric of his ( your ) hoodie.
“i’ve got you,” you whisper. “i’m right here.”
your hand dips lower, finally, finally pushing the hoodie up and wrapping around choso’s cock. the boy cries out, a sharp, punched-out sound, his hips bucking up into your palm.
your touch is searing, so much better than his own, and his vision whites out for a second.
“you’re so big,” you murmur against his neck, and the words go straight to his dick. a broken whimper escapes him. “have you thought about this? me touching you?”
“yes,” choso sobs, the word torn from him. his hands are clutching at your waist now, desperate, holding on. “all the time—fuck, every night—i’d—i’d think about you riding me, about being inside you, about—fuck—about you saying my name like that—”
you’re stroking him slowly, deliberately, your thumb swiping over the head the way he’d been doing to himself, and it’s too much and not enough all at once. precum leaks from the tip, slicking your fingers, and the wet sounds fill the room, mixing with choso’s frantic, hitching breaths.
“you want me to ride you?” you ask, and your voice is so low, so dark, it makes his toes curl.
“yes, please, yes,” choso babbles. “i want—i need—please, i’ll do anything, just please—”
you let go of him, and he actually whines at the loss. but then you’re sitting up, pulling your shirt over your head, fumbling with the button of your jeans, and choso can’t look away; he’s mesmerized, his hands hover in the air, wanting to help but too afraid to touch without permission.
you notice, and you look at him, and your expression softens for a moment, even with the raw hunger in your eyes.
“you can touch me, cho. anywhere. i want you to.”
choso’s trembling hands find your thighs, the bare skin above your jeans, and the contact grounds him a little. he’s still trembling, still overwhelmed, but the feeling of you under his palms, the warmth of you, is real.
you get your jeans off, kicking them to the floor, and then you’re reaching for the hem of your hoodie.
the one choso is wearing.
“keep it on,” you say, and choso’s heart clenches. “i want you to keep it on.”
choso nods, mute, his eyes fixed on you as you reposition yourself over his hips. you’re both bare from the waist down now, and the sight of you like this, poised above him, wanting him, is so much he feels like he might shatter.
you take his cock in your hand again, guiding it, and choso watches, transfixed, as the head of his cock presses against your entrance. you’re so ready for him, and the realization — that you’re this ready for him — hits him like a freight train.
“look at me,” you say, and his eyes snap up to meet yours. “i want to see you when i do this.”
you sink down.
the feeling is indescribable; you’re so tight, so hot, and the slow, steady pressure of you taking him in is the most exquisite torture choso has ever experienced. his mouth falls open, but no sound comes out. his hands fly to your hips, gripping so hard he knows there’ll be bruises, but he can’t help it. he needs something to hold onto.
you don’t stop until you’re flush against him, his cock buried to the hilt inside you. you both gasp, your heads falling forward, foreheads almost touching. you’re both breathing hard, the air between you charged and electric.
“fuck,” you breathe. “cho, you feel—”
choso cuts you off with a kiss, desperate and messy. he can’t help it; he needs to taste you, needs to feel you closer. you kiss him back just as fiercely, your hands coming up to frame his face, holding him steady as you start to move.
it’s a slow roll of your hips at first, a gentle rock that makes him see stars. every nerve ending in his body is focused on where you’re connected. choso can feel every clench of your muscles, every subtle shift of your weight. he can feel the way your thighs tremble on either side of him, the way your breath catches in your throat with every small movement.
“you’re so perfect,” he whispers against your lips, the words spilling out without his permission. “so perfect, fuck, you feel so good, i’ve dreamed about this—”
your pace quickens a little, and choso’s words dissolve into a pathetic moan. your hands slide into his hair, fingers threading through the dark strands, and you tug, just a little, and his eyes roll back in his head.
“yeah?” you ask, your voice breathless. “you dreamed about me, hmm?”
“every night,” choso confesses, his voice cracking. his hips are starting to move now, meeting your downward thrusts, desperate for more. “every single night. i’d—i’d wake up hard, thinking about you, and i’d have to—”
choso chokes off as you clench around him, a small, knowing smile on your face.
“you’d have to what?”
“touch myself,” choso admits, the shame mixing with the arousal in a heady cocktail. his cheeks are burning, but he can’t stop. “thinking about you. always you.”
you reward him with a faster, harder bounce, and choso cries out, his head falling back against your pillows. your name is a prayer on his lips, a desperate, repeated chant. his hands slide up from your hips, splaying across your back, pulling you closer, needing you impossibly nearer.
“i love you,” choso gasps, the words ripping out of him. “fuck, i love you so fucking much, i’m so so in love with you, i have been for years—”
your rhythm falters, your eyes going wide and soft above him.
“choso—”
“i know,” he babbles, a fresh wave of tears spilling down his pretty pink cheeks. “i know you don’t—you don’t have to say it back, i just—i needed you to know, i’ve wanted to tell you for so long, and i’m sorry, i’m sorry for—for doing this, for being in your bed, for—”
you stop moving entirely, and choso’s heart lurches with fear.
but then you’re cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. you’re both breathing hard, sweat beading on your skin, his cock still buried deep inside you.
“don’t be sorry,” you say, your voice fierce despite its breathlessness. “i’m here, aren’t i? i’m not going anywhere.”
you start moving again, but it’s different now; it’s slower, deeper, more deliberate. you roll your hips in a way that has him seeing constellations, his hands scrabbling for purchase on your back, your shoulders, anywhere he can reach.
“i want you to be inside me,” you whisper, your lips brushing against choso’s. “i want to feel you come undone, okay? i want to feel you let go.”
he shakes his head, a sob catching in his throat. “can’t—if you keep—i’m too close, i’m gonna—”
“good,” you say, and you pick up the pace again, your thighs burning with the effort, your hips slamming down onto his. “i want you to. come for me, choso. let me feel it.”
it’s the permission he didn’t know he needed.
choso’s orgasm crashes over him like a wave, sudden and devastating. his back arches off the bed, a raw, guttural cry torn from his chest as he spills inside you, his hips jerking uncontrollably. his hands grip your hips so tight he’s sure now it’ll leave marks, but he can’t let go, can’t stop, as wave after wave of pleasure wracks his body.
you keep moving, working him through it, your own breaths coming in sharp, uneven gasps. choso can feel you clenching around him, chasing your own release, and even as the oversensitivity sets in, even as he whimpers and squirms beneath you, he doesn’t want you to stop.
“please,” he begs, his voice a wrecked whisper. “please, i want you to—i need to feel you—”
you lean down, capturing his lips in a messy, open-mouthed kiss, and your hand snakes down between your bodies, fingers reaching between your legs. the sight of you touching yourself while he’s still inside you, still so sensitive it’s almost painful, is enough to make choso’s mind go blank.
“so good for me,” you pant against his mouth. “you’re so good, choso. you feel so good inside me.”
choso’s hips twitch involuntarily, a weak, aborted thrust, and you moan, the sound vibrating against his lips.
he’s so overstimulated he can barely think, tears still leaking from the corners of his eyes, but the sound of your pleasure, the feel of you falling apart around him, is the most beautiful thing he’s ever experienced.
“i’m close,” you warn, your voice strained, your fingers moving faster. “fuck, i’m so close—”
“let go,” choso echoes your words from earlier, his voice shaky but sincere. “let go, please, i want to feel you. i want to feel you come on my cock.”
it’s your turn to cry out. your body goes rigid above him, your inner muscles clamping down on him in a series of pulsing, rhythmic contractions. your head falls back, your mouth open in a silent scream, and choso watches, awestruck, as pleasure consumes you completely.
he holds you through it, his hands gentler now, stroking your thighs, your back, anywhere he can reach. he murmurs soft, incoherent words of praise, tells you how beautiful you are, how perfect, how long he’s wanted this, wanted you.
when it’s over, you collapse against choso’s chest, both of you a mess of sweat and tears and other things. his arms wrap around you, holding you close, and he buries his face in your hair. choso’s heart is still racing, his body still trembling from the aftershocks, but he’s never felt so at peace.
you stay like that for a long moment, just breathing together, the silence comfortable and warm.
eventually, you stir, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him. your face is completely flushed, your lips swollen, and there’s a soft, wondering look in your eyes that makes choso’s heart clench.
“hi,” you say, a small, breathless smile playing on your lips.
choso can’t help but smile back. “hi.”
you lean down, pressing a gentle kiss to choso’s forehead, then each of his eyelids, then the tip of his nose, and finally his pretty lips. it’s soft, sweet, a stark contrast to the desperate, hungry kisses from before.
“i meant it, you know,” he whispers against your lips, his voice still shaky. “i love you. i’m not just… saying it because of this.”
your expression softens impossibly further, and you brush choso’s hair back from his face, your touch so tender it makes his chest ache.
“i know, cho,” you say quietly. “and i meant it too. i’m not going anywhere.”
he swallows hard, his eyes searching yours. “but do you…?”
you smile, and it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
“i think i’ve been in love with you for a while now,” you admit, a little shy. “i just… didn’t think you’d ever see me that way.”
a disbelieving laugh bubbles up from choso’s chest.
“me? i’ve been—i’ve been in love with you since the day we moved in together. maybe even before.”
you laugh too, the sound light and happy, and then you’re kissing him again, and it’s different from all the others. it’s not desperate or hungry; it’s a promise.
when you finally pull apart, you’re both stupidly smiling, and choso feels like the world has shifted on its axis, rearranged itself into something new and wonderful.
“so,” you say, a mischievous glint returning to your eye. “was it everything you dreamed of?”
he groans, hiding his face in your shoulder. “that’s so unfair.”
you laugh, the sound vibrating against choso’s skin.
“i’m taking that as a yes.”
choso lifts his head, his expression earnest despite the lingering flush on his cheeks.
“it was better,” choso says quietly. “because it was real. because it was you.”
your smile softens, and you kiss him again, slow and sweet.
“stay in my bed tonight?” you ask softly when you finally break apart. “my hoodie stays on you, though. that’s no-negotiable.”
choso laughs, the sound a little wet, and pulls you closer.
“deal.”
and as you settle against him, your head on his chest, choso’s arms wrapped around you, the scent of your shampoo filling his senses completely, choso lets himself believe that maybe, just maybe, this is the start of something he’s been waiting so bad for his whole life.
choso closes his eyes, and for the very first time in years, he’s not dreaming of you.
jake makes you jealous on purpose, and you make him regret it in the best way.
𝓬𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 2.1k words, 18+ [ MDNI! ], explicit sexual content, power bottom!male reader, bratty!jake, jealousy as foreplay, punishment sex, riding, edging, orgasm denial / control, heavy begging, unprotected sex (p in a), veryyyy slight face slapping, dirty talk, crying during sex, creampie, pathetic!jake.
the tension had been a living, breathing thing between you since the very moment jake had thrown that lazy, charming arm around your ex’s shoulders at the bar.
just to 'catch up', he’d said, his brown eyes wide with feigned innocence. but you’d seen the way his hand had lingered, the way he’d leaned in to laugh at something stupid, the way he’d glanced over at you from across the room, a tiny, infuriating smirk playing on his lips.
your boyfriend knew exactly what he was doing, and the fire that had ignited in your gut had burned through the rest of the night, fueling a silence in the car that was louder than any screaming match.
now, the front door of your apartment was barely closed before the atmosphere shifted from simmering to a full-blown inferno. you didn’t speak, you simply turned, your back to the door, and watched him. jake stood in the middle of the living room, all six feet of him looking suddenly smaller under the weight of your stare. his earlier bravado was gone, replaced by a nervous energy that made him shift his weight from foot to foot.
“the fuck was that, jake?” you asked, your voice low and calm. way too calm.
your boyfriend swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing.
“it was nothing. just messing around.”
“messing around,” you repeated, pushing off from the door. you closed the distance between you slowly, each step deliberate. “you think it’s funny to make me watch you flirt with someone else?”
“wasn’t flirting,” jake mumbled.
his brown eyes dropped to the floor, and his shoulders were hunched, that confident, cocky bastard from the bar was now completely gone. in his place was this — a boy who couldn’t even meet your gaze, whose breath was already starting to quicken.
“just wanted to see you… y’know.”
you stopped inches from him, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. “see me what?”
jake finally looked up at you, and the raw need in his eyes was honestly staggering; his irises were blown wide, nearly eclipsing the brown.
“see you get mad. see you… care.”
a slow, dangerous smile spread across your face, and you slowly, slowly reached out, your fingers tracing the line of jake’s jaw before gripping his chin, forcing his head up a fraction higher.
“oh, i care, baby. i care a lot,” you leaned in, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “bedroom. now. and you’re going to do exactly what i say.”
a shiver ran through your boyfriend, and it was so intense it was almost a tremor.
“yeah,” he breathed, his voice already strained. “okay.”
the walk to the bedroom was a foregone conclusion. by the time you pushed jake onto the bed, his shirt was already off, discarded somewhere in the hallway, his chest rising and falling in a frantic rhythm. you took your time undressing him, making him lift his hips for you to pull off his jeans and boxers.
jake was already fully hard, his cock flushed and leaking against his stomach, an indication to how much this game of his had already affected him.
you settled yourself on jake’s thighs, pinning him down with just your weight. his hands immediately came up to your hips, fingers digging in.
“you want to act like a brat,” you murmured, leaning over him to grab the lube from the nightstand. “you get treated like one.”
jake breath hitched. “fuck—yes.”
you slicked your fingers, watching his eyes flutter shut as you reached behind yourself to prepare.
your boyfriend was a sight — golden skin flushed pink, dark curls plastered to his forehead, his plush lower lip caught prettily between his teeth. when you finally positioned yourself over him, the head of his cock pressing against your slick, stretched entrance, a desperate whine escaped his throat.
“please,” he gasped, his hips bucking up involuntarily.
you tutted, slapping a hand flat against his stomach.
“uh-uh. i’ll let you know when you can move.”
slowly, agonizingly, you began to sink down.
the stretch was exquisite, a burning fullness that stole your breath for a little second. above you, jake was a masterpiece of restraint; his hands were fisted in the sheets, knuckles completely white, every muscle in his body taut as a bowstring. a guttural groan was ripped from his chest as you took him all the way to the base, your ass flush against his hips.
“fuck, baby,” he choked out, his accent thickening on the last word. “so tight. feel so fuckin’ good.”
you gave yourself a moment to adjust, savoring the way his thighs trembled beneath you. then, finally, you started to move.
it was a slow, deliberate roll of your hips at first, a rhythm designed to torment him. you’d lift yourself almost all the way off, letting just the tip stretch you, before sinking back down with a wet, obscene sound. and each time, jake would let out a punched-out little 'ah', his head thrashing against the pillows.
“look at me,” you commanded.
jake’s eyes snapped open, glazed and desperate. they were fixed on where your bodies connected, watching himself disappear inside you over and over again. a flush crept up his neck, spreading across his cheekbones. he looked wrecked, and you’d only just started.
you changed the angle, leaning forward to brace your hands on his chest, and began to ride him in earnest. you set a brutal pace, slamming yourself down onto him, chasing your own pleasure.
the room filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, your shared gasps, and the increasingly loud, broken moans falling from jake’s lips.
“oh my god—fuck, fuck, fuck,” jake babbled, his hands flying from the sheets to your hips, his grip bruising. “like that, yeah, just like that, don’t stop—”
his hips unconsciously started to piston up to meet your movements, his control shattering.
you let him for a moment, letting the friction drive you both higher; you could feel jake getting thicker, harder inside you, a telltale sign that he was close. his rhythm became erratic, his thrusts desperate and jerky.
and that’s exactly when you stopped.
you lifted yourself off him completely, completely ignoring jake’s broken cry of protest. he was left on the bed, his cock slick and glistening, twitching against his stomach, his chest heaving.
“did i say you could fuck up into me?” you asked, your voice hard despite your own ragged breathing.
jake’s eyes were wide, wet at the corners.
“no, but—i was so close, please, i need—“
“you need?” you cut him off, straddling him again.
you reached down and wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, squeezing here just hard enough to make him whimper.
“you need to remember who’s in charge here. you think you can pull that shit in public and just get to cum the second you want?”
tears were welling in jake’s eyes now, spilling over and tracking down his temples into his dark hair.
“m’sorry. i’m so sorry. please, just let me—i’ll be good, i swear i’ll be so good.”
you leaned down, your lips brushing against the salty tracks on his cheek. “oh, i know you will.”
you repositioned yourself and sank back onto him with one swift, brutal thrust.
the sound jake made was something between a sob and a scream, his back arching off the bed. you didn’t give him a second to recover; you started riding him again, harder this time, using your leverage to pound yourself onto him with a relentless fury.
jake’s composure was completely gone.
his accent, usually a soft, charming lilt, had thickened to a drawl so heavy it was almost unintelligible, each word dragged out of him on a sob.
“fuckin’ hell—can’t—too much, it’s too fuckin’ much,” he gasped, his hands scrabbling at your thighs, your hips, trying to slow you down or pull you closer, you couldn’t tell. “gonna—i’m gonna cum, i can’t—please, let me come, please, i’ll do anythin’.”
“no,” you said simply, slowing your pace to a deep, grinding swirl that made his eyes roll back. “you don’t get to cum until i say so.”
jake let out a sound of pure anguish, his head lolling to the side. his cock was pulsing inside you, impossibly hard, and you could feel every desperate throb.
you leaned back, bracing your hands on his knees for better leverage, and began to bounce on him again, taking him fast and shallow, letting the head of his cock slam against your prostate with every movement.
“oh, fuck—!” he screamed, his whole body seizing. “it’s right there, it’s fuckin’—i’m gonna—i’m gonna cum, you gotta let me, please, baby, please, please, please—“
jake was crying in earnest now, tears and snot mixing on his face, but he didn’t look anything but beautiful.
his pleas were a litany, a desperate prayer offered up to you. his accent was so thick you could practically taste it, wrapping around each word like honey.
“stoppin’ me,” jake begged, his voice cracking. “you’re fuckin’ killin’ me ‘ere. can’t take it. need it. need to cum so bad, i’ll fuckin’ die if i don’t. please, love, please.”
you reached forward and wrapped your hand around his throat, squeezing the slightest bit, feeling the frantic pulse of his heartbeat under your palm. with your other hand, you slapped him lightly across the face, just a sharp crack that made his eyes widen and his hips jerk.
“look at you,” you said, grinding down on him, holding him deep inside you. “so pathetic. you wanted my attention so bad? you have it. every. single. inch. of it.”
a high-pitched, keening whine left jake’s lips. his entire body was trembling violently, a fine tremor that shook the bed. jake was being held at the very edge, a hair's breadth away from falling, and you were the only thing keeping him from the plunge.
you leaned forward again, your face inches from his.
“you’re going to cum inside me,” you whispered, your rhythm finally faltering as your own climax began to build, a pressure coiling hot and tight in your belly. “but only when i tell you to. understand?”
jake nodded frantically, a jerky, desperate motion.
“yeah, anythin’. just tell me when. tell me when, please.”
you started moving again, a frantic, uncoordinated rhythm driven by the need for your own release.
you rode him hard, chasing the feeling, his desperate gasps and sobs a symphony in your ears. you could feel jake’s cock twitching, pulsing, his balls drawn up tight against your ass. he was holding on by the sheer force of his will, his face a mask of anguished ecstasy.
“now,” you gasped, the coil snapping as your own orgasm crashed through you, your inner walls clenching down on him like a vice. “now, jake. cum.”
the single word was jake’s undoing.
a raw, guttural shout was torn from his chest, his back bowing off the bed as he finally, finally let go. you felt the first hot pulse of his release deep inside you, then another, and another. he came so hard his entire body seized, his hands fisting in the sheets hard enough to tear them, his hips jerking up into you with each spasm.
jake’s mouth was open in a silent scream, tears still streaming down his face, and his accent was just a raw, guttural blur of sound that might have been your name.
he kept coming, more than you thought possible, jake’s cock was desperately pulsing inside you until he was completely spent, his body going limp beneath you. his chest was heaving, his eyes closed, his pretty face tear-streaked and utterly wrecked.
you stayed seated on jake for a long moment, letting him catch his breath, feeling the last aftershocks ripple through his body. finally, you lifted yourself off, collapsing onto the bed beside him. a trail of his release followed, warm and sticky against your skin.
the silence in the room was heavy, broken only by jake’s ragged breathing.
after a minute, jake turned his head on the pillow, his brown eyes finding yours; they were puffy and red-rimmed, but there was a deep, boneless satisfaction in them, a look of pure, utter contentment.
a small, wobbly smile touched his lips. jake’s voice was a wrecked, hoarse whisper, the aussie drawl still clinging to the edges of his words.
“so… d’you reckon that makes us even, or…?”
you couldn’t help it; a laugh burst out of you, breaking the last of the tension. you reached over, brushing the damp curls off jake’s forehead, your touch gentle now.
“not even close,” you murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of jake’s swollen mouth. “but i guess it’s a good start.”
Suu my angel, 5 more weeks till your husband comes back how you feeling 😭😭
PS I missed you like crazy sorry I haven’t been online work was crazyyy, love you so so much hope your week goes amazing 💗💗💗
-🍓
I CANT WAIT I MISS MY CUTIE JAEHYUN ☹️
aww my baby i missed you so much too :( work is pure hell i get you lol, i hope you’re okay!! 🤍 love you so sooo much & i hope YOUR week ends up being amazing too!!
!-yunho, a streamer who recently gained attraction for his fun personality, good lookings, and cracked game play, doesn't know how to handle the attention yet basks in it like never before and y/n a struggling university student who has a more then a...bright history with the man! what will the two do? -!
yoooo been a while😳😳😳😳 I promise I'll update more consistently eith the smau but idk good news for the writer enjoyers I have stuff in the works for that
!-yunho, a streamer who recently gained attraction for his fun personality, good lookings, and cracked game play, doesn't know how to handle the attention yet basks in it like never before and y/n a struggling university student who has a more then a...bright history with the man! what will the two do?-!
note- a shity attempt at angst, which you can expect for the next few chapters 🤫
we're getting close to 100 followers??? which is crazy??? thank u aaaaall for enjoying my content <//3
hoping to write something soon, I'm so sorry for not feeding u all,,, sadly puppies have been on the brain and since that was what I just posted I haven't gotten to writing :') I wanna write for more kinks!!! feel free to rq to ur hearts content, I'd love some ideas,,,
