...Or, Maki as your pop-punk-loving, bass-playing, rage-baiting boyfriend.
✩ Riki Mauss x Fem!Reader ─── Fluff & Suggestive Content |Reader is a photographer | A/N: I'm aware I JUST did this for fem!Taki but I had to go for Maki too. I've imagined too many edits of him with Pretty Fly (For a White Guy) as the background song, and the puns are unavoidable.
✩ At work, he's nothing more than a co-worker, at best. Your job is simple: Take pictures, and make sure they make the band look decent. You do just that: The shitty stage lights change colors, so you manage to snap Maki in the middle of a Green Day cover. He looks damn good, and you print that photo out for both your portfolio and your wallet.
✩ At home, though, he's not Maki, Hot Bassist Supreme. He's just Riki, your dorky boyfriend. He covers his bedroom walls with band posters after getting the tape stuck to his thumbs. His living room, otherwise tidy (he remains a neat-freak), is filled with meticulously-organized boxes of CDs and Xbox games. It used to reek of Axe body spray, but he started using the crappy Walmart Japanese Cherry Blossom candles so your nose wouldn't scrunch every time you entered his home.
✩ There's no hiding the fact that Riki is a loverboy. No one's missing the little hearts that dot the ends of his beat-up Converse, or the tattoo of the first flowers he ever brought you that rests along his forearm. He doesn't really write lyrics of his own, but he still plays through You In January by The Wonder Years and For Me, This is Heaven by Jimmy Eat World when it's 2am and he can't fall asleep. Oftentimes during gigs, he refers to you as "Juliet, our photographer" - as in Check Yes, Juliet. Attendees think that it's actually your name, but people in his circle know that he's just down bad.
✩ You've snapped many photos of him: Ones that emphasize the unique downturn of his eyes, or his build against his instrument, or even the few tattoos he has. Your favorites, though, are the ones that no one else sees. The ones where he's cradling his dog close to his chest, or where he's sick and wrapping himself into a human burrito with a blanket. Personally, Riki treasures the strips from the mall photo booths the most - although you refer to that sentiment as pure blasphemy in the name of photographers. What can he say, though? You look cute sat on his lap, pouting into the camera like it might take pity on you.
✩ The best thing about being an artist that's dating an artist is the fact that you are each other's muse. Riki feels everything so intensely, his emotions amplified by a healthy 100000x, that his fingers itch to compose melodies that remind him of you; sharp, jagged notes that bleed into something softer, more gentle, by the third minute. Sometimes, he plays for so long that his fingers end up bleeding all over the fretboard. You cover his hands with smiley-face band-aids and make him promise to be more careful.
✩ He is not more careful. He can't be, when it comes to you. You set his heart on fire, and you expect him to just sit with it? Really? Come on now, Juliet. Cut him some slack.
✩ And, yes; he's aware that the nickname tends to annoy you, especially when he says it with his signature shit-eating grin that makes you want to slide-tackle him. That's why he likes it. There's something about being pushed around by someone smaller than him that makes his heart skip a beat. He could probably bench-press you, but he digresses.
✩ Riki doesn't like to say he's a jealous guy, per se. However, guys in other bands make it a point not to come off too strongly around AndTeam's photographer. The last guitarist that made that mistake will forever be haunted by the sight of teeny bruises covering both of your necks (and your thighs), and Riki looking a little too smug for comfort. People aren't sure if they should be envious of you, because you're making hardcore love with the most stunning musician in the local scene, or if they should be envious of Riki for getting to be with an untouchable photographer, stunning in their own right. (Both, everyone agrees. Both is fair.)
✩ When you fall asleep together, you're sprawled out over his chest. You know he doesn't fall asleep easily, but you're drained from shoots and editing, so you pass the fuck out instantly. Riki just smiles and presses a kiss to the crown of your head, his fingers drumming an absent-minded rhythm on your back. And, because he's nothing but consistent - it's Check Yes, Juliet.
ꨄ︎ author's note : another cute request from the lovely kayz ♡ i hope i did your req justice, it’s super adorable. all support is appreciated, hope you enjoy jokitties 🪽
sunday mornings were always your designated lazy hours. staying inside, pyjamas on, wrapped up in blankets on your bed.
so it only made sense that you insisted on dragging maki back to bed after cooking breakfast. the scene was too cute not to evoke your clinginess - maki stood at the stove, apron slung over his shirtless torso and sleep shorts, flipping the eggs carefully in the pan. it was so domestic. your heart was full of warmth as you ate breakfast, his hand resting on your thigh.
“was that good? you want anything else?” maki asked, mouth full of egg. you shook your head, taking your empty plate and dumping it in the sink. the dishes could wait until later.
once maki was done, your hand slid into his, and you began tugging him back to the bedroom.
“where are we going, hm?”
“to bed. i wanna cuddle.” you answered, a pout visible on your lips. maki chuckled, finding your insistence endearing.
“you’re too cute, angel. alright, let’s go.”
---
once back in bed, maki’s arm wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. with your legs tangled, skin pressed against skin, you were right where you wanted to be.
“maki, i love you so much,” you whispered, your eyes opening to look up at him. “you always make me feel so loved. i’m grateful to have you.”
you watched as maki’s face heated up, a soft pink tint dusting his cheeks and ears.
“i love you too, baby. where’s this coming from?”
i was just thinking about us. our relationship. from the start until now.”
“well, i hope they’re good thoughts, angel.” maki replied, kissing your forehead.
“yeah, of course.” you giggled. “i was thinking back to when we first met. how hopelessly in love i was after five minutes of talking to you at school. and how pathetically obvious i was about having a crush on you.”
“i remember that. yuma’s teasing didn’t help your case, to be honest.” maki added, a sly grin appearing on his face. you digged your hand into his side playfully, earning a groan from maki.
“don’t remind me. it was awful.” you sighed, maki’s lips pressing to your neck as you continued. “it felt magical to have a crush on you, y’know? it felt so easy. you were so sweet to me all the time. i was always giddy around you.”
as you spoke, maki quietly kissed along your jaw and neck, kisses pressed light enough as to not disrupt your romantic tangent. he was entranced by your voice, your heartfelt words. by you. and his kisses were what portrayed these feelings.
“oh, i remember how pathetic i must’ve sounded to my friends. i was always ranting about you, our conversations, whenever you accidentally touched my hand.” you admitted, maki’s lips still attached to your throat. “i was obsessed with you.”
---
as your ranting came to an end, you glanced down at maki, whose face was buried in the crook of your neck. he looked up at you for a brief second, but you still caught it. he was blushing.
“maki? wow, is my baby shy?”
“wait-” he mumbled, trying to hide his face even more. the poor guy was so flustered. “stop… stop being so nice, it’s killing me.”
as you’re about to say something in return, maki’s hand flew to your mouth, cutting off your words.
“seriously, it is making me shy.” he chuckled. you pulled his hand from your mouth.
“can’t i tell my boyfriend how much i love him?” you teased, and maki buried his face back into your neck out of sheepishness. “i love you so much, you already know that.”
“i love you too, angel. even when you tease me on purpose.”
note: hey guys! short little drabble for my baby boo bcos ive been sooooooo obsessed w his hair recently for greengreen promotions likeeeee that boy is my girlfriend!! im also still working on that fic...it should be soon maybe july.?
wc: 458
the evolution of martin’s hair had been a journey you were able to watch personally for 9 months; so, the day he unlocked the front door to your apartment and came in with a fluffy, almost mullet like hair style, you couldn't keep your eyes off of him—or your hands out of his hair. you were sitting with one leg folded under the other, leaning slightly against the sofa cushion as you watched martin make way to your side. he drops his keys on the coffee table before finally dropping down next to you. your eyes lock momentarily, making his eyebrow raise.
“what's your deal?” martin jokes, pulling your other leg across his lap. a soft laugh comes from his lips. “i like your hair.” was all you could say, scooting closer towards him. martin raises another eyebrow, looking away shyly and raised a hand to the top of his head. “yeah? i think i like it. it’s for our comeback.” he murmurs. you reach out a hand to his hair, feeling the length and softness. “it's cute.” you assure him in the same tone he spoke to you in. you kept your hands weaved in his hair as he leaned into your touch subconsciously.
“you like it that much?”
you didn't realize how close you were sitting to him, both of your legs were now in his lap and his arms were resting on them. you loved this hair on him so badly, it was killing you. “yep.” you replied, popping the p and placing a small kiss on the corner of his mouth. “you're weird.” he squints his eyes at you, trying to fight a smile. he finally laid his head against the sofa cushion.
“shut up.” you scrunched up your face at him. you leaned over again slightly, placing an actual kiss on his lips, making his hand slide from your knee to your thigh on reflex. martin let out a surprised laugh against your mouth, the sound dissolving into the kiss before either of you could help it. “there it is,” he murmured when you finally pulled back. “there what is?” you cock your head to the side in mock confusion.
“the real reason you’ve been staring at me for the last twenty minutes.” you rolled your eyes, though the smile tugging at your lips ruined any attempt at looking annoyed. “maybe.”
“maybe?” he repeated. Instead of answering, you buried your fingers into his hair again, combing through the longer strands at the nape of his neck. the reaction was immediate. his shoulders relaxed, his eyes fluttering shut for a second, and a grin spread across his face.
“well can you at least keep your hair like this? for me?”
Being married to Park Sunghoon was simply defined by polite distance and a perfectly curated public image. Who would’ve thought all it would take to fracture that was a single overhead conversation?
nsfw warnings ── he’s so pathetic i want him, angst if you’re..? unprotected sex, virginity loss, oral (f rec), messy eater hoon, squirting, big dick hoon, he gets a little mean, creampie, fingering, slight breeding/pregancy kink, praise, mild verbal degradation, size difference, power exchange, overstimulation, sexual frustration, slow burn (kinda), let me know if i missed any.
word count ── 7.3k
Your arranged marriage with the Park Sunghoon had always been a work of art in his opinion, when he married you about twenty six months ago, it was with the detached logic of a merger. He provided you the legacy and the financial fortress while you provided the grace a woman married to him needed to have—you were flawless and the maternal warmth for the child you had brought into the world via surrogacy was indeed the cherry on top of your beautiful marriage on paper.
For the first year and a half, he really was content. You were like roommates who shared a last name and a common goal. He worked at his family firm and you managed the house and the social calendar.
Then, Sunghoon began working from his home office more frequently and the distance he had carefully maintained started to collapse. It was like suddenly, you weren't just a figure at the other end of the dining table. You were now a constant and vibrant presence in his periphery. He'd be mid call with clients in another country and see you through the glass doors, sitting in the sun drenched morning room with a cup of tea, looking so serene it made his own chest ache with a sudden envy for your peace.
He’d see you with the baby, your hair pulled back as you laugh at something the child did, it was a side of you he never saw under the harsh lights of a ballroom. He’d see you headed to the home gym in those form fitting yoga sets that highlighted exactly how much he had been missing by staying at the office until midnight.
The professionalism he prided himself on was starting to fray.
One afternoon, you tapped on his office door dressed to go out with an elegant tailored coat draped over your shoulders, looking every bit the sophisticated wife of a high ranking man.
"Sunghoon? I'm headed out to Mrs Yang’s ladies brunch we discussed. I've made sure the nurse has everything for the evening," you said softly, standing in the doorway. "I'll likely be back after you've had dinner."
He looked up from his monitors, his eyes narrowing slightly behind his glasses. For a split second, the urge to tell you not to go and to stay here, the urge to tell you to sit in the chair opposite him and to just be was so overwhelming he almost spoke it. He wanted to ask you what you did when you weren't being his wife, he wanted to know what you thought about when you were alone in this massive house.
"I see," he managed with a low voice. He cleared his throat and adjusted his collar as if it were suddenly too tight. "Enjoy yourself. Don't feel rushed."
"Thank you, Sunghoon," you replied with that same cordial smile you'd given him for a year and a half.
As you turned to leave, the scent of your perfume lingered in the room, and Sunghoon felt a wave of genuine panic. He was falling in love with his own wife—a woman he had treated like a business partner for over six hundred days, yet he didn't know how to bridge the gap without breaking the perfect arrangement you had built together. He was a man who handled billions of dollars with ease and yet he found himself completely paralyzed by the idea of asking you to stay for dinner just because he liked the way you breathed.
Days later, he walked out of his office, originally intending to simply check on the baby in the nursery, but the sight of the hallway bathroom your preferred door ajar and the sound of your voice drifting from inside stopped him in his tracks. He stood in the hallway, the thick carpet muffling his presence as he heard the unmistakable splashing of water and the clear sound of a voice on speakerphone.
"I still can't wrap my head around it, girl. I’ll tell you that for free," your friend's voice echoed through the bathroom. "You’re like the blueprint of the perfect society wife...and you're a married virgin…with a kid. How does it feel, honestly?"
Sunghoon swore his heart skipped a few beats, his hand grabbing the wall for balance. A virgin? The logic of his world shifted until he felt dizzy. He had assumed, given your poise and the ease with which you navigated adulthood, that your past was just as lived in as his own.
He heard you giggle and it was a light sound he rarely heard in his presence. "You can't miss something you've never had," you replied and he could almost picture the shrug of your shoulders. Then, your voice dropped into a conspiratorial, slightly dirty tone that sent lightening straight to his gut. "Besides, it's not like I'm exactly suffering. I just rub my clit a little when I'm feeling particularly aroused and that usually does it for me. It's efficient."
The mental image of you alone in your bed a few doors from his, touching yourself because of a need he hadn't even considered you had, was almost too much to process. He felt a sudden, sharp spike of arousal but he also wanted to throw up.
"I just don't know how you two do it," your friend laughed. "Living in that house together, looking like that."
"It's easy, really," you said and the nonchalance in your voice hit him like a punch to the gut. "I'm pretty sure Sunghoon has a mistress. Some girl in a penthouse that he pays for to keep him satisfied. It makes sense, really. He's a man with needs and he's certainly not getting it here."
You sounded...relieved, you sounded like the idea of him being with someone else was somehow a weight off your shoulders, like it was a logical solution to a problem you didn't want to solve.
He felt a surge of rage even down to his fingertips, he didn't have a mistress. What he did have was a mountain of work and a growing obsession with the woman currently dismissing him as some predictable cliché. The fact that you thought so little of his character or perhaps so little of your own appeal, made him want to barge into the room and show you exactly how satisfied he wasn't.
But he stood there instead, letting his knuckles turn white as he fought the urge to kick the door open and confront you. He wanted to tell you that there was no penthouse, no other girl and that the only person he wanted to satisfy him was the one currently applying toner and joking about her virginity. He stayed rooted to the spot cause he couldn’t bring himself to move an inch, the cordial roommate facade had finally shattered beyond repair. He wasn't just a husband in name anymore, he was now a man who had been challenged and he was finally ready to break the rules of your arrangement.
"I mean, look at him," you continued, your voice taking on a wistful quality that Sunghoon had never been privy to. "I'm not blind. I've definitely fantasized about it. He's incredibly attractive and if he ever actually tried...well, I wouldn't exactly say no. But that's never going to happen, so whatever. It's better this way."
"I don't know," your friend hummed in a more suggestive tone. "With those shoulders and the way he carries himself? He looks like he could probably fuck you mid air without breaking a sweat. I've seen him lift your baby's heavy ass stroller like it was a feather."
You let out a genuine laugh that echoed through the bathroom. "Stop! You're going to make it weird the next time I have to see him at dinner."
The sound of your footsteps approaching the door snapped him out of his trance, the adrenaline spike was instantaneous, it made him bolt down the hallway with his heart hammering against his ribs in a way that no board meeting had ever achieved. He stopped a few doors down, quickly smoothing his shirt and taking a deep breath just as you stepped out into the corridor in a silk robe.
He turned back toward you, timing it perfectly so it looked like he was just making his way from the nursery toward the stairs. You nearly bumped into him, your eyes widening in mild surprise. You looked fresh, your skin glowing from your skincare routine and for the first time, Sunghoon didn't bother to stop his eyes from dropping to your lips.
"Oh! Hello, Sunghoon," you said and he couldn't help but notice how your voice returned to that perfectly modulated tone. There wasn't a hint of the dirty girl he'd just heard on the phone.
"I didn't realize you were still upstairs. Have you had lunch yet? I can have the kitchen prepare something for you if you're planning on staying in the office for the afternoon."
You looked at him with such sweet, domestic concern, asking if he'd eaten as if you hadn't just spent the last ten minutes psychoanalyzing his sex life and debating his physical strength with your little friend.
He stared at you, eyes dark and searching. He knew the united front was still there but now he also knew what was hiding behind it. He knew you wanted him, he knew you were just waiting for him to move. And most importantly, he knew you were his—completely untouched and entirely misinformed about where he spent his nights.
"I haven't," he finally said before he took a half step closer, encroaching on your personal space just enough to see your smile shake. "Perhaps you'll join me? I think it's time we had a conversation that isn't about some stupid society event."
"Oh. Uh—What do you mean, Sunghoon?"
"What do I mean?" he repeated, the discipline that had defined his entire life for nearly thirty years finally snapping. He had never been good at keeping secrets—his integrity was too rigid and his conscience too loud. The words didn't just tumble out, they literally erupted. "I mean I don't have a mistress, Y/n. I haven't even looked at another woman, let alone touched one, since the day our families sat us down in that boardroom to discuss this arrangement."
You stood frozen, the blood draining from your face as the weight of his words hit you. The realization that he had been standing right there and had heard every shameful, intimate detail of your phone call made your ears ring.
"The idea of a woman in a penthouse somewhere is...it's preposterous. I've spent every night in this house, working myself to exhaustion just so I wouldn't have to face the fact that I'm sharing a roof with a woman I'm fucking terrified to touch."
"Sunghoon, I—" You let out a hysterical burst of laughter, your hands coming up to cover your mouth. It was clearly a nervous reflex, an attempt to bridge the sudden, terrifying gap of vulnerability between you. "It was a joke! It was just…just girl talk! I was just...my friend was being silly and I was just playing along. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to imply—"
"I don't care about your apology," he interrupted, his voice thick with a desperate honesty. He stepped further into your space, forcing you to look up at him. "I heard it all. I heard that you think I'm off with some mistress while I'm actually in my office, three doors down from you, trying to figure out how to be half a decent husband to a woman I do not want to lose."
He paced a small circle, his hand raking through his perfectly styled hair until it was a mess. "I failed you. I've lived in this house for so long thinking I was being good man and instead, I've left my wife wondering if she's enough. I didn't know you were a virgin. I didn't know you were waiting."
He stopped and looked at you, his eyes now burning with a mix of shame and agonizing heat. "You want to talk about efficiency? You want to talk about rubbing your clit to get it over with?" He let out a cold self deprecating sound. "I spent twenty minutes in the shower this morning jerking off like a goddamn teenager because I saw you in that green yoga set and I couldn't breathe. I do it every single day, sometimes twice a day. I do it because I'm so goddamn in love with you that I don't know how to function and I thought—I thought if I touched you, I'd break the only peace you had in this marriage."
"You drive me fucking insane, Y/n."
The silence that followed was charged with the sudden collapse of two years months of pretension. Your heart was hammering so hard you could feel it in your whole body.
"And as for your friend's little comment..." his gaze dropped in a way that made your knees go weak. He closed the remaining distance, his large hands coming up to grip your waist, his thumbs hooking into the belt of your robe. "Yes. I am more than strong enough to fuck you mid air. I am strong enough to do anything you want, for as long as you want it. Just...please. Don't think so lowly of me. Don't think I'd ever seek out a substitute for the only woman I've ever truly wanted."
He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot against your lips and now there was only him, trembling with two years worth of suppressed worship, waiting for you to tell him that the fantasies weren't just talk.
You didn't have the words to bridge the gap he'd just torn open, so you did the only thing that felt right, standing up on your tiptoes and looping your arms around his neck to press your lips to his.
It was a clumsy, hesitant kiss, the only other time you'd felt his mouth on yours was that brief peck at the altar when you got married. You didn't know how to move your lips against his or where to put your tongue but the moment you made contact, he let out a deep groan like a man who had been starving and was finally offered a feast.
He didn't wait, sliding his large hands from your waist to your thighs and hiking you up, your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist and you felt the sheer, solid strength your friend had just joked about. He carried you blindly toward your suite, his mouth never leaving yours, tongue growing hungrier and more authoritative as he realized you were leaning into him.
You shrugged the silk robe off your shoulders, letting it pool on the tile like discarded skin. When your back finally hit the mattress, the sheets were cool compared to the heat radiating of Sunghoon’s body as he loomed over you. He had his weight propped on his forearms with his whole body trembling.
He looked down at you with untamed lust. He reached out with his thumb to trace the line of your lower lip, which was now swollen and red from his kiss.
"I have wanted this every single second since I met you," he confessed in a trembling voice, he was shaking with the effort of holding himself back. He was a man of logic and even now, at the edge of his control, he still needed to be sure. "I am going to be as gentle or as rough as you want but I need you to understand...once I start, I'm not going to want to stop. If you have any doubts—if you want me to wait another year, another hour—you have to say it right now."
He lowered himself just an inch, his nose brushing against yours, the scent of his expensive cologne and masculine heat overwhelming your senses.
"Tell me," he commanded softly, his hand shifting down to rest flat against your stomach, right above the lace of your panties. "Do you want your husband, Y/n? Because I am yours. Every part of me."
He took your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours, and began a slow tour of his body. He guided your palm over the hard line of his jaw, down the column of his throat where his pulse was thrashing and across the broad expanse of his chest. "Look at me," he pleaded desperately. "Every inch of this, every thought in my head...belongs to you. I've been holding it all for you."
He slid your hand further down, past the ridges of his stomach, until your palm was pressed firmly against the straining length of his cock trapped behind his trousers. You gasped cause the size and heat of him stole the air from your lungs but as you instinctively curled your fingers around him, Sunghoon shook his head. "Not yet," he murmured with a hungry smirk on his lips. "I haven’t even started worshipping you yet. I just want to taste you first."
He moved so gracefully, sliding down the length of your body until he was laid between your knees and with a decisive tug, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and dragged them down your legs.
The sudden rush of cool air against your heated skin made you shiver, you’d spent so long hiding yourself, playing the role of the composed and dutiful wife, that the reality of Sunghoon staring directly at your most intimate parts made you feel shameful. You immediately tried to clamp your thighs shut with a whimper of shyness escaping you.
"No," Sunghoon rumbled, his large hands clamping onto your knees and forcing them wide. "Don't hide from me. I've spent all this time imagining exactly what you looked like right here."
He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your inner thighs, making the fine hairs on your skin stand up. He didn’t just look, though, he reached out and used his thumbs to gently spread your pussy lips apart. The sight of your center so slick and swollen made his pupils dilate until his eyes were almost entirely black. He watched in a trance as a fresh wave of wetness gushed out, a clear testament to how much his words had affected you.
"Look how much you want me," he whispered with triumph, not waiting one more minute before swiping his tongue upward in a long stroke that gathered every drop of your sweetness. The sensation was so intense and so direct that your hips jerked off the bed in a violent twitch. You let out a high pitched cry, immediately tangling your fingers in his dark hair as he settled in, his tongue moving with devastating pressure that told you he wasn't going anywhere until he'd tasted every bit of the pleasure he'd been denied.
Sunghoon was entirely too methodical, he was treating your body with the same terrifyingly focused certainty he brought to everything else in his life. He buried his face between your thighs, his nose pressing into your clit as his tongue focused on your leaking hole, he ate you out with a hunger that was almost feral, his tongue flat and firm as it licked long strokes from your opening all the way to your clit.
The sounds filling the room were the wet slapping of his mouth against you mixed with the broken whines you were letting out. He already had you babbling nonsense, your hands gripping his shoulders, then his hair, then the sheets, your head thrashing as he drank you in. You were so sensitive that every flick of his tongue felt like a bolt of electricity, making your thighs tremble uncontrollably and he didn’t seem to care that the mixture of his saliva and your overflowing wetness was now drooling down his chin to his skin, he was being so messy in a way you’d never expected.
He paused for a split second to look up at you through his dark lashes with his face glistening with your slickness. "You're so tight my tongue can’t even go in a little," he rasped. "Can I put a finger in? Just one?"
"Yes—yes, please, Sunghoon," you wailed, suddenly desperate for any kind of fullness.
He still didn't rush it, he took his long middle finger and slowly probed at your entrance with it. You were so wet that he slid in with a soft squelch, the intrusion feeling entirely too massive against your unused walls. You gasped, your eyes rolling back as you felt him stretching you from the inside, he pushed deeper until his knuckles brushed against your folds.
Then, he hooked his finger upward and moment he found that one textured spot on your anterior wall, your entire body stiffened. You bucked against his hand, your hips lifting off the mattress in a frantic search for more pressure. "Mm. It’s there, right?" You couldn’t stop the way you pulsed around his single finger. "Fuck, you’re so responsive."
He started a come hither motion with his finger, while simultaneously lowering his mouth back down to your clit. He was multi tasking with a lethal expertise—his finger hitting that internal spot with every curl while his lips created a vacuum around your sensitive nub.
The combination was too much and before you could help it, you were screaming into the quiet of the mansion, your toes curling as you felt the first tidal wave of an orgasm building in your gut. He sucked harder, his tongue swirling in circles around your clit while his finger stayed hammering and massaging into you until you were nothing but a shaking mess of pleasure. You felt your walls start to contract, milking his finger as you experienced a climax so intense you actually saw spots, your body completely surrendered to the man who had spent your entire marriage so far pretending he didn't want to ruin you just like this.
"Sunghoon, please—don't stop, don't stop!" You were nearly hyperventilating, your voice cracking as you begged him to keep up the relentless pace. The internal pressure from his finger and the tension of his mouth were weaving together into a rush so fervent it was almost painful. "I've never...I've never felt like this, I'm going to—"
You were choking out the words, shocked by how quickly your body had reached its limit. After over two years of nothing but your own careful touch, Sunghoon's extreme competence was hitting you like a freight train. You were on the precipice with your muscles vibrating from the exertion of holding on, when suddenly, a new and terrifying sensation washed over you.
It felt like a build up in your bladder, it was a sudden and very heavy fullness that made you panic. "Sunghoon, wait! Stop, stop!" you gasped, your hands flying to his head to try and pull him away. "I think...I think I'm going to pee. Oh my god, Sunghoon, let go!"
You were absolutely mortified, the woman who prided herself on her perfect composure was about to humiliate herself in front of the man who had just confessed his love for her. You tried to clamp your legs shut, to scramble away from him on the sheets but Sunghoon was an immovable force.
He didn't budge. Instead, he shifted his grip and his large hands locked onto your thighs like iron shackles, pinning you wide open for him. He looked up at you with his face wet and a knowing smirk on his lips. "Don't hold back, baby. Give it to me. Give it all to me."
He didn't give you a choice, diving back down and tracing his tongue over your clit with a more violent speed while his finger hooked deep and hard into that spongy spot.
The dam snapped and you let out a strangled sob as you completely lost control of your body. You weren’t just cumming like you did alone in your bed, your pussy erupted like a geyser. A hot gush of fluid sprayed out of you, drenching his face, his lips and even the hands that were holding you open. It felt amazing, like a release so profound it felt like every nerve in your body was being cleansed but the moment the initial wave subsides, horror quickly took over.
You collapsed back against the pillows, sobbing and shaking from how hard he had just made you cum and pure embarrassment, your face buried in your hands. "I'm so sorry!" You wailed, the humiliation ruining the afterglow. "I'm so sorry, Sunghoon, I didn't mean to...I ruined it."
Sunghoon didn't look upset or angry, he gently sat back on his heels, wiping a stray drop of your sweetness from his cheek with his thumb before licking it off with a swipe of his tongue. He looked like a feral thing that had just been given exactly what it wanted.
"It’s okay, my love," he cooed, his eyes burning with such a beautiful passion. He crawled back up the bed, pressing over you once more, his scent now unmistakably mixed with yours. "That was you cumming for your husband. And if you think I'm disgusted, you clearly haven't been paying attention to a word I said. I want every single drop of you."
Sunghoon's focus softened, though the heat behind his eyes didn’t faded. He drew closer and you could see his face still shimmering with the evidence of your release. "Do you want to taste yourself?" he whispered against your lips.
You could only nod, your voice lost to the haze of the afterglow and he crashed his mouth against yours, a possessive kiss that tasted of salt and you. It was a physical claim, a bridge between your bodies that shattered the last of your shyness. When he pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting against yours, he sounded breathless. "I love you. God, I love you so much. I've been dying in this house for twenty six months."
"I—I love you too, Sunghoon."
He kissed you again, a little more tenderly this time but the friction of his body against yours was a reminder of the unfinished business straining against his clothes.
Boldness, fueled by the euphoria of your climax took over and your hands trembled the moment you reached down, your fingers reaching blindly to the button of his linen pants. You pried it open and when the fabric gave way, you slid your hand beneath the waistband to cup him over his boxers.
Sunghoon let out a hoarse groan, his head snapping back. He suddenly grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away with a look of excruciating containment. "Don't," he forced out, his jaw ticking. "Don't start something you can't finish, my love. If you…If you touch me like that, I'm not going to be able to be gentle."
You looked up at him with your pupils blown wide. "Please fuck me," you whispered, the words feeling heavy and electric on your tongue. "I want my husband to fuck me. Now."
Sunghoon froze a little, a startled laugh breaking from his chest. "I had no idea my little wife was so vulgar," he jested, his eyes dancing with a delighted light. "I like it. I like it a lot."
He moved with a heightened energy, kicking off his pants and discarding his shirt in a matter of seconds. You sat up, your hands reaching for the hem of your silk slip that had been pushed up and pulled it over your head.
As the fabric fell away, leaving you completely bare in the soft light of the bedroom, Sunghoon stopped. He looked at your chest, his stare tracing the swell of your breasts.
"Fuck," he breathed, the word sounding like a raw exhaled prayer. He looked like a man seeing a miracle for the first time. "I truly don’t know how I lasted this long. I must be stronger than I thought. You really are perfect...my beautiful wife."
He crawled back over you, finally pressing the weight of his bare chest into yours. The immense, solid mass of him was consuming in the best way possible. He pinned your wrists above your head, feeling his cock heavy and hot against your thigh. "I really hope I can live up to your fantasies."
Sunghoon's breath was dragging in a way that betrayed his own desperation as soon as he settled between your thighs. He didn't just shove himself in—he was carefully obsessive, even now. He took the blunt head of his weeping cock and dragged it upward, tracing the line of your slit until he was circling your clit with the hardened tip of his length.
He was massive and now that he was pressed against your entrance, you realized he was easily twice as thick as the finger that had just had you screaming, if not thrice. The reality of what was about to happen made your breath come in short bursts and your thighs trembled against his hips.
"You're shaking," he whispered, his voice thick with a mix of concern and uncontrollable hunger. He stopped the teasing friction, resting his weight on his forearms as he looked down at you. "Look at me. It...it might hurt a little at first. I'm trying to be careful but you're so damn small."
"I know," you whimpered, nodding as you reached up to grip his biceps. "I know, just...please."
He nodded once, his jaw tightening as he lined himself up with your sopping hole and pushed forward slowly. You felt the initial stretch, the instant sting of your body being forced to accommodate him. It was more painful than you'd imagined, like a searing ache that made you gasp and arch your back off the bed, unintentionally digging your nails into the skin of his shoulders as you clung to him like a lifeline.
"Hmpf, Sunghoon—wait, wait," you cried into his neck, your body instinctively tensing up against the massive intrusion.
"I know, I know. I'm sorry, my love." He was so sweet, immediately slowing down his movement and staying right there with his forehead pressed against yours as he rained soft kisses over your eyelids and cheeks. "Just breathe. You have to relax for me. Please let me in, baby."
He waited patiently, even though his own body was shaking with the thought of not just taking what he wanted. He spoke to you in a low, soothing hum, words of praise and love that started to dull the sharp edges of the pain. "You're so tight, baby," he groaned in a pained sound that escaped him cause you couldn’t stop the way your muscles clenched around him. "It's like you're trying to snap my—shit—my cock off. I can barely move, you're squeezing me so hard."
Slowly but surely, the sting faded into something dull. You took a deep breath, consciously trying to sink into the mattress and open up for him. As you relaxed, he felt the shift and inched forward again—just a fraction of an inch at a time. It was a slow conquest and finally with one last, deep thrust of his hips, he bottomed out.
You let out a shaky exhale, feeling the weight of him kissing your cervix, filling every possible corner of your body. The ache was gone, overtaken by a staggering sense of fullness that made you feel connected to him in a way that went beyond the physical.
"There," he sounded completely taken apart. He stayed buried deep inside you, his chest panting against yours as he watched your face. "I'm all the way in. How does it feel? Tell me you're okay."
"It's...so big," you trembled, your legs locking around his waist to keep him right where he was. "I feel so full with you."
He let out a sigh of a laugh, his eyes dilating as he realized the hardest part was finally over.
Sunghoon was a man of absolute control but having you pinned beneath him and hearing your body finally accept him was pushing him to his limits. He started with a little grind of his hips, rotating against your sensitive core with a push that forced you to feel every ridged inch of his girth. He was so unhurried, watching the pain melt into a foggy and heavy lidded pleasure.
Once your pained whimpers dissolved into needy moans, the last of his restraint snapped just a little and he reached down to grab your ankle and hook your leg over his broad shoulder, opening you up even further. The new angle allowed him to drive in deeper, his hips snapping forward a little faster than before.
"Sunghoon...oh god, Sunghoon," you moaned, thrashing your head against the sheets, the perfect wife persona you wore stripped away until there was nothing left but your raw honesty. "It's so deep inside me...I love it! I love you—I love your cock so much, it feels so big inside me...please, don't stop."
The utter vulgarity of your praise for him, coming from the woman he thought was untouchable made his pace shatter into something more erratic. He let out a hurt groan, while hitting all the right spots with every wet thrust, the sound of your skin slapping together echoing in the silent room.
"Shut up." The words escaped him in dangerous growl before he leaned down to bite at the junction of your neck and shoulder. He didn't actually want you to stop but the way you were talking, the way you were worshipping him as he took your innocence was making his vision go dark. "If you keep talking like that, I'm going to lose it. I'm going to finish in ten seconds if you don't shut your mouth."
But he didn't slow down. If anything, your words made him meaner and his thrusts turned into deep pounds that had him bottoming out inside you. He was obsessed with the way you were stretching for him, the way your walls were milking him with every sob that fell from your lips. He was no longer the polite or distant husband, he became a man possessed and determined to make sure that the first time you ever felt a man would be a sensation that burned his name into your very soul.
Sunghoon grabbed your other leg and threw it over his shoulder until you were folded practically in half, your hips tilted high and vulnerable. He leaned his full weight down, pinning you into the mattress with his broad chest. In this position, he was able to fuck you even deeper with each thud so wet that it left you struggling to breathe.
He paused for a second, his face inches from yours to kiss you with a messy hunger before pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. "Tell me," he commanded in a way that settled deep in your bones. "Who owns this pussy? Who owns every inch of you?"
"You!" you screamed immediately, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back as he gave you fast and punishing thrusts. "You...my husband! Only you, Sunghoon!"
He let out a groan and his pace turned a little depraved. He was slamming into you faster now, his large hands reaching down to squeeze at your breast and pinch your nipples before sliding down to your waist and digging his thumbs into your hips to keep you from moving away.
"And whose cock?" he growled, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear as he snapped his hips forward again and again until all you could hear was the wetness of your pussy as the fucked into you. "Whose big cock is fucking you right now? Whose length is stretching you out and making you feel this good?"
"Yours!" you sobbed hard, your whole body shaking against the sheets cause another wave of overstimulation crashed over you. "It's yours...Sunghoon's cock! My husband's cock is fucking me so good...please, Sunghoon, more! Fuck me harder! I think I’ll cum like this!"
The sound of your voice, so broken and begging for him was driving him insane but he didn't say another word, he just buried his face in the crook of your neck and fucked his cock imto you with everything he had, intent on leaving his mark on the wife who finally and truly belonged to him.
Sunghoon's breathing had devolved into a series of pointed stutters, his entire body was wound tight with a tension so profound it was as if his muscles might snap. He felt the quivering of your walls, so tight, hot and slick, squeezing around him in a yearning drive that milked him for everything he had, it told him exactly how close you were to cumming again while the wet slide of his girth pushed him closer to a total loss of control.
He pulled your legs even tighter against his shoulders, manhandling you until his chest was crushing yours and his heartbeat thundered against your ribs like a war drum. He looked down at you, his eyes nearly black with a visceral purpose, watching your face crumble into an expression of ecstasy.
"Sunghoon, I'm—I'm gonna—" you almost screamed, dragging your nails down his back and leaving scratches that he doesn't even feel.
"I can feel it, my love," he growled so deep it was practically a snarl. He slowed his pace for a fraction of a second but only so he could drive in with a force that made the entire bed frame groan under his weight. "You're so tight for me. You're perfect."
As the first ripples of your orgasm began to seize your muscles, Sunghoon leaned in until his lips were pressed hard against yours. "Let's have another baby," he nearly pleaded, the thought seemingly ripping out of his soul in the heat of the moment. The man of logic was dead and gone and in his place was a husband so obsessed with the idea of his own legacy growing inside the woman he loved. "Not like last time. No surrogates. I—oh fuck—I want it to be us. I want to see your belly grow because of me...I want to see you pregnant so bad it's driving me mad."
The aching honesty in his voice, combined with the way he was brushing your cervix with every word, sent you over the cliff before you could even realize it was happening. You let out a shattered cry, cumming so hard it was almost violent, your body gripping down on him like a vice with a strength that nearly brought him to his knees.
"Fuck, please," he whined, his control clearly dissolving into a thousand pieces. He didn't pull back or even think about it. He gave one last soul shaking thrust and buried himself to the absolute hilt, letting out a long whine, releasing months of repressed longing and love deep inside you.
He stayed inside you, his heaviness pinning you to the mattress while his forehead rested against yours cause his body wouldn’t stop shuddering with the strength of his orgasm. The room was silent except for the sound of your shared breathing and the thudding of his heart as he waited for the tremors in his thighs to subside.
"Mine," he whispered against your swollen lips. "You're finally, finally mine."
When he finally began to move, it was with a gentle slowness—a deliberate retreat that made you whimper at the loss of his incredible size. He moved with a reverence that bordered on worship, careful not to chafe your sensitive walls as he slid out, the dripping sliding sound of his departure echoed in the quiet suite.
When he pulled himself out completely, the physical evidence of his devotion began to overflow. You felt the warm spurt of his cum escaping your pussy, Sunghoon didn't look away, he couldn’t. All he could do was watch satisfied, then he reached out his large hand trembling slightly and used his fingers to sweep the excess cum back toward your opening, his touch alternating between firm pressure and a light, teasing graze that made your nerve endings sizzle.
"Look at what I did to you," he sounded pleased, "Look at how much of me you're holding."
He didn't stop there, now driven by a need that seemed to have only been stirred by the act itself, he shifted lower once more. He knelt between your quivering thighs, dark eyes fixed on your swollen center and without a word of warning, he dived back in, his tongue sweeping over your folds in possessive strokes that gathered every bit of the messy cocktail of your combined fluids.
After the blunt force of his cock, the focus of his tongue again felt like a live wire against your skin. "Hoon, please...I can't," you cried helplessly, your hands tugged on his damp hair as you tried to push him away even as your hips bucked upward to meet him. "I'm too sensitive, I can't take any more—"
"Yes, you can," he growled against your skin, voice muffled by your thighs. He looked up at you, his beautiful face now mask of lust and adoration, totally drenched in the proof of your shared pleasure. "I want to feel it again. Cum on my face again, my love. Come on."
He ignored your half hearted protests and lapped and slurped at your pussy. He used his thumbs to stretch you wide to see more his cum slide out of your pussy, only to lap it up again. He sucked and ate you in with a burning need, his movements so strong it felt like he was trying to pull your very soul through your skin.
The build up was instantaneous and just as violent and it made your vision blur, made the world narrow down to the throb of just your husband’s mouth and the eager command in his voice. You felt that familiar wave climbing in your gut again, the dam of your composure finally and permanently shattered.
"Sunghoon!" you screamed, your fingers digging into his scalp as your body stiffened into a bow for the third time. You sobbed his name in a broken voice as you spiraled into another climax that felt like it would never end. Sunghoon stayed right there, taking in your juices, his eyes closed while he savored the taste of you cumming for him again.
When he was finally satisfied and you lay limp and slightly sobbing against the pillows, Sunghoon crawled back up the bed and pulled you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin and wrapping his limbs around you, anchoring you to him. The dutiful wife and the composed husband were gone—there was only the two of you now, tangled together in the wreckage of years of silence, finally whole.
Sunghoon's hold on you tightened, his arms were like a protective weight that seemed resolved to never let an inch of space come between your bodies again. He pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of your head, breathing in the scent of your shampoo mixed with the musk of your joint exertion.
The silence of the mansion, which once felt cold and even cavernous, now felt like a sanctuary—a little private world where the rigid expectations of your families and the careful choreography of your social lives couldn't reach you. "We have a lot of time to make up for," he said to you, pulling back just enough to look at you, rubbing his thumb over your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart ache. The golden light of the bedroom caught the sharp line of his jaw and the softened, now vulnerable expression in his eyes—a look he had never shown to anyone but you.
nene’s note ── i’ve alwaysssss wanted to try the arranged marriage trope and recently two of my friends got together because of an overheard phone call! could you imagine! y’all know i love feedback! enjoy!💕
Synopsis: Unravelling the day with your beloved boyfriend.
Pairing: bf!Maki x fem!reader
Warnings: floofy floofy fluff, hurt/comfort, reader has a shitty day, hyperindependent reader, maki being my cutie son i love him
A/N: a surprise not really i already told her for my personal maki @makizdoll yes this fic is very targeted towards Kayz love you baby mmwah mmwah yes i put short blonde maki because you love him ehehehe. As always, enjoy, my darlings!
Word Count: 3.8k (yeah idk why all my fluff fics are so short)
How could humans possibly be solitary creatures when the dip of every neck and the curve of every palm is almost sculpted to hold a face in it?
In biological terms, they call it the pack instinct—the urge of every living creature to bond with another. It doesn't have to be one of their own. It could be another creature entirely unrelated to them.
As long as there is love, there is life.
For you, after a few long years of searching for your own pack-mate, you stumbled upon him in an elevator.
At first, you didn't really notice him.
The elevator was always crowded in the mornings. People squeezed shoulder-to-shoulder, clutching coffee cups and briefcases, staring at their phones with the hollow expression of those not yet fully awake. You stepped inside, pressed yourself into whatever space was available, and rode to the seventeenth floor. Every day, this was your routine.
And every day, he was there.
Tall enough to see over most heads, with short blonde hair that always looked slightly windblown. He stood near the back wall with his hands in his pockets and an expression that hovered somewhere between sleepy and amused.
You learned his routine before you learned his name. He got on at the same lobby, got off on the same floor as you and without fail, turned left while you turned right.
At five-thirty every evening, you found yourselves together again. The elevator doors would open. There he'd be. You'd ride down in silence. Then he would disappear into the city while you headed in the opposite direction.
Weeks turned into months. Months turned into a year. You learned tiny things about him. He liked listening to music on his commute. He sometimes wore old band t-shirts beneath his work jacket. He laughed quietly to himself whenever he read something funny on his phone.
And every time he smiled, two absurdly deep dimples appeared in his cheeks. The first time you noticed them, you nearly walked into a wall.
After that, you found yourself waiting for them. Waiting for the smile. Waiting for the elevator. Waiting for him. It became the favorite part of your day.
Neither of you spoke. There were occasional nods, a muttered "morning." Once, during a power outage that trapped everyone for twenty minutes between floors, you'd exchanged actual conversation.
You learned his name was Maki.
Maki with the blonde hair, Maki with the ridiculous dimples, Maki who always stood close enough for you to notice the faint scent of his shampoo, Maki who somehow made thirty seconds in an elevator feel important.
The realization hit you one random, rainy Tuesday.
You were both standing in the lobby. The elevator was late. Maki wasn't there. And you felt disappointed.
Then the doors opened at the last second and he hurried inside, slightly out of breath. The relief that flooded through you was embarrassing. You looked up. He looked down. His dimples appeared.
"Oh good," he said. "I thought I'd missed you."
Your heart stopped functioning normally "What?"
He laughed. "That came out weird."
"No, no," you said quickly. "Keep talking."
His ears turned pink. "I was just..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "We've been riding the same elevator for almost two years." The grin that spread across his face revealed both dimples at once. "You know," he said, "I was trying to figure out how to ask you out without sounding like a complete creep."
You stared at him. The elevator dinged. The doors opened onto the seventeenth floor. Nobody moved. People shuffled around you with annoyed sighs. Neither of you cared.
"You wanted to ask me out?" you finally managed.
Maki nodded. "Preferably before we retire."
You laughed. He laughed. And suddenly it felt absurd that you'd spent years riding up and down together without doing this.
"Then yes," you said.
His eyebrows rose. "Yes?"
"I'll go out with you."
The smile that followed was so bright you thought it might power the elevator by itself. "Good."
"Good?"
"Yeah." He stepped aside as the last people filed out. "Because I've been sharing an elevator with my favorite person every day for two years."
The warmth that settled in your chest felt strangely familiar, like finding something you'd been missing for a long time.
Maybe because you'd spent most of your life feeling like a puzzle piece from the wrong box.
You fit everywhere, technically. You had friends, you got along with people, you could hold conversations and laugh at the right moments and blend into a crowd when you needed to.
But there was always something slightly off. Like everyone else had been handed a script you never received.
You were never completely part of things, only adjacent to them.
Most of your real comfort came from your online friends—the people who knew the strange corners of your personality that never seemed to surface around anyone else. The ones who understood your niche references, your bizarre trains of thought, your tendency to spiral from discussing grocery lists into debating whether penguins would thrive in a corporate office environment. The people who never looked at you strangely when your brain jumped three conversations ahead.
Then Maki happened.
One evening you'd spent twenty straight minutes making increasingly ridiculous arguments about why a goose would be a terrible roommate. Instead of looking confused, Maki had immediately joined in.
"No, you're missing the biggest issue."
"What biggest issue?"
"The goose would steal your socks."
You had stared at him. "What?"
"Think about it."
"Why would a goose steal my socks?"
"To establish dominance."
And somehow that conversation had lasted another hour. It was stupid, completely stupid. And you'd laughed so hard your stomach hurt.
That was the thing about Maki. He never seemed interested in some simplified version of you. He wanted all of it—the weird parts, the difficult parts, the parts you usually kept tucked away because they were too complicated to explain.
He asked questions, remembered answers, paid attention. Months after an offhand conversation, he'd bring up things you'd forgotten you ever mentioned.
You once casually told him that thunderstorms helped you sleep. Three months later, during a particularly loud storm, your phone buzzed.
Maki: Bet you're having the best nap of your life right now.
You stared at the message for a full minute, because he'd remembered and people rarely did.
Then there was your hyper-independence.
If you needed something, you handled it. If something was difficult, you dealt with it. If you were struggling, you figured it out alone.
Maki hated that.
Not because he thought you were incapable, quite the opposite actually. He knew you could do everything yourself. He just thought you shouldn't have to.
The first time he discovered you'd been carrying three overloaded grocery bags home alone, he'd looked genuinely offended. "You could've called me." He'd said, immediately yanking two of the bags away before any protest could fall from your lips.
Another time, you'd spent hours assembling a bookshelf by yourself. When Maki arrived and found you sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by screws and frustration, he'd dropped to the ground beside you without a word.
"I can do it myself."
"I know."
"So why are you helping?"
He'd handed you a screwdriver. "Because I love you." As though that explained everything. To him, apparently it did.
The biggest fight you'd ever had started because you'd gotten sick and deliberately not told him.
When he eventually found out, he stared at you in complete disbelief. "You had a fever."
"I was fine."
"Baby, you almost collapsed." He said, placing a cold towel on your forehead with utmost care, "You don't always have to carry everything alone, you know?"
Patiently, stubbornly, Maki had spent years teaching you that relying on someone wasn't the same thing as burdening them.
That love wasn't just showing up for the easy things. It was showing up for the annoying, inconvenient, ordinary things too. The grocery bags, the flat tires, the bad days, the random Friday afternoons where your brain convinced you the entire world had shifted two inches to the left. Especially those.
Like today, for example.
Nothing catastrophic had happened, which in some ways made everything worse.
The train had been delayed. Someone had sent you three separate emails asking questions already answered in the original document. Your lunch had somehow ended up tasting like disappointment. A meeting that should have lasted twenty minutes stretched into an hour and a half.
Every small inconvenience stacked neatly on top of the previous one until your patience resembled a tower built from wet cardboard.
By three in the afternoon, you were already exhausted. By four, every conversation felt slightly too loud. By five, even answering a simple "How was your day?" sounded like a task requiring extensive preparation.
The worst part was that strange, hollow feeling underneath everything, the sense that you were moving through the day rather than living it. Like your body had shown up to work but the rest of you had gotten lost somewhere along the commute.
By the time you finally got home, your shoulders ached from tension you hadn't even realized you'd been carrying.
You unlocked the apartment door, stepped inside and immediately spotted your boyfriend.
Maki was stretched out on the couch with one arm draped across the backrest, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. The television was on low volume, filling the room with soft background noise.
The moment he looked up, his expression softened into something that made your chest swell.
"Hey, sweetheart."
That was all it took. You dropped your bag near the door, kicked off your shoes and crossed the room without a word.
Maki barely had time to set his phone aside before you folded yourself directly into his lap and buried your face against his chest. His arms wrapped around you instantly. Automatically, like muscle memory or like breathing.
Neither of you spoke for a moment. You just stayed there, pressed against the familiar warmth of him, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.
One of his hands moved slowly through your hair, gentle and patient—the way he always did when he knew you were running on empty.
A soft kiss landed against the crown of your head. You felt him rest his cheek lightly against your hair.
"That bad?"
A muffled noise escaped you, something between a groan and a whine.
Maki laughed quietly. "Got it."
His fingers continued combing through your hair. The apartment felt warm and safe, the rain tapping softly against the windows.
After a while, Maki tilted his head so he could look down at you. His expression was soft in that way it only ever was around you.
"Would you like to take a shower?"
You considered the question. The hot water, clean clothes (preferably his), washing away the entire miserable day.
Eventually, you nodded against his chest. "Yeah."
Maki pressed another kiss to the top of your head and tightened his arms around you for a few seconds longer.
As if he understood that right now, more than the shower or dinner or anything else waiting to be done, what you really needed was this.
A place to rest. A place to stop carrying everything. And, as always, Maki seemed perfectly happy to be that place.
The world outside the apartment faded completely as Maki held you. The rain continued its soft rhythm against the windows, but inside, everything had gone still and warm.
After a long, comfortable silence, Maki shifted beneath you. His arms tightened once—a quick, reassuring squeeze—before he spoke again, his voice low and gentle.
"Alright, baby. Up we go."
Before you could even process what was happening, he slid one arm beneath your knees and the other around your back, lifting you off the couch,
You let out a small, surprised sound, your arms winding around his neck. "Maki—"
"Shh," he murmured, his lips brushing against your forehead. "I've got you."
He carried you through the apartment with the kind of effortless certainty that made your chest ache. The hallway lights were dim, the bedroom door already open, but he bypassed it entirely, heading straight for the bathroom.
The tiles were cool beneath his bare feet. He nudged the door open with his shoulder, then set you down carefully on the edge of the counter, his hands lingering at your waist to make sure you were steady.
You sat there, legs dangling, looking up at him. The bathroom light caught in his hair, softening the angles of his face. His eyes were warm, patient, full of something that made your throat tight.
"Okay," Maki said quietly, his thumbs tracing small circles against your hips through the fabric of your work clothes. "Let's get this day off you."
He started with your shirt.
His fingers found the buttons, working each one free with a care that felt less like undressing and more like unwrapping something precious. With each button, he pressed a kiss to the newly exposed skin—your collarbone, the curve of your shoulder, the hollow at the base of your throat.
"You don't have to—" you started, your voice barely above a whisper.
"I want to," he said simply, and his dimples appeared as he glanced up at you. "Let me take care of you tonight. Please?"
The word please undid something in you. You nodded, and he smiled—that bright, ridiculous, dimpled smile that still made your heart stutter after all this time.
Your boyfriend slid the shirt off your shoulders, letting it fall somewhere behind him. His palms smoothed down your arms, warming your skin, before he knelt in front of you to undo your pants. His movements were unhurried and reverent. He pressed a kiss to your knee as he worked the fabric down your legs, then another to your ankle when you stepped out of them.
When you were left in nothing but your underwear, he rose again, his hands cupping your face. He studied you for a moment, his thumbs brushing gently across your cheekbones.
"Beautiful." He said, so softly it was almost to himself.
Steam began to fill the small space as he turned on the shower, fogging the mirror, softening the edges of the room. Maki tested the water with his hand, adjusted the temperature, and only when he was satisfied did he turn back to you.
"Ready?"
You held out your hands to him. He took them, helped you slide off the counter, and guided you into the shower.
The hot water hit your skin like a release. You let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding, your shoulders dropping as the tension began to unspool. Maki stepped in behind you, the water catching in his hair. He reached for the shampoo.
"Close your eyes." He instructed softly, and you obeyed.
His fingers worked through your hair with a gentleness that made your knees weak. Maki massaged your scalp in slow, firm circles, working the lather from your roots to your ends. Every movement was designed to soothe rather than simply clean. When he was done, he guided your head back under the spray, rinsing until the water ran clear.
Then came the conditioner. Then the body wash.
Your beloved's hands traveled over your shoulders, down your arms, across your back. He worked the soap into your skin with the same patient attention, finding every knot of tension and pressing gently until they began to loosen. His thumbs dug into the tight muscles at the base of your neck, and you couldn't help the small, involuntary sound that escaped you.
"Found it," he murmured, amused.
"Shut up," you mumbled, but there was no bite to it. He laughed quietly and kept working.
By the time Maki was done, you were barely standing—not from exhaustion, but from the sheer, bone-deep relaxation that had settled into every part of you. Your limbs felt heavy, your mind blissfully blank, your heart full.
Maki turned off the water and reached for a towel.
He wrapped it around you first, drying your arms and shoulders with careful strokes. Then he knelt, patting dry your legs, your feet, even between your toes, which made you giggle sleepily. He rose, dried your hair with a second towel, ruffling it until it was damp and soft and sticking up in every direction.
"There," he said, surveying his work with satisfaction. "All better."
He helped you step out of the shower, then guided you to the bedroom. He pulled one of his t-shirts from the drawer—soft, worn, smelling faintly of him—and helped you pull it over your head. Then a pair of loose shorts, because he knew you liked having the option.
You stood there, wrapped in his clothes, your hair still damp, your body warm and clean and completely at ease.
Maki looked at you for a long moment. Then he stepped forward, wrapped his arms around you, and pulled you into a hug so full and steady that you felt something inside you finally, fully, let go.
"I love you." He said against your hair.
You buried your face in his chest and held him back.
"I love you too."
He pulled away just enough to look at you, his dimples deepening as he smiled. "Feeling better?"
You thought about it. The terrible day, the hollow feeling, the weight you'd been carrying.
Then you thought about Maki carrying you to the bathroom. Undressing you with his kisses, washing away every trace of the bad hours, dressing you in his clothes and holding you like you were something worth holding.
"Yeah," you said, and your voice came out steady. "I think I am."
Maki kissed your forehead. "Good. Now come on." He tugged you toward the bed, pulling back the covers. "Let's go lie down and watch something stupid until we fall asleep."
The bed welcomed you both like an old friend.
Maki pulled the covers up over your shoulders, tucking the edge beneath your chin with the same careful attention he gave everything else. You shifted closer, molding yourself against his side, your head finding its natural resting place in the hollow of his shoulder.
His arm came around you, palm flat against your back, fingers tracing lazy patterns through the soft fabric of his old t-shirt. His other hand found yours, threading your fingers together and resting them on his chest, right over his heart.
The rain had softened to a whisper against the windows. The apartment was dark except for the faint glow of city lights filtering through the curtains. It painted soft shadows across the ceiling, cast gentle silver lines along the curve of Maki's jaw.
You let out a long, slow breath. The kind that came from somewhere deep. The kind that said I'm home.
Maki pressed his lips to the top of your head and let them linger there.
"Comfortable?" he asked, his voice a low rumble against your hair.
"Mmh."
"Warm enough?"
"Mmh."
"Need anything?"
You nuzzled closer, your nose brushing against his neck. "Just this."
His chest rose and fell with a quiet laugh. "Yeah, me too."
Your breathing began to even out, growing slower and deeper. The tension that had coiled in your shoulders all day had finally dissolved completely, leaving you soft and pliant in his arms. Your fingers curled loosely around his, your body relaxing into his as though you were made to fit there.
Maki stayed awake.
He listened to the rain, felt the gentle weight of you against him, counted the soft rhythm of your breaths until they became predictable, steady and peaceful.
And in the quiet of that dark room, with you safely tucked against his side, his thoughts drifted.
He thought about the first time he saw you in that elevator. Head down, earbuds in, a small frown of concentration on your face as you scrolled through something on your phone. He'd thought you were beautiful, but more than that—he'd thought you looked like someone he wanted to know.
He thought about the months of silent rides. The gradual progression from strangers to familiar faces. The morning you'd both reached for the same elevator button at the same time, your fingers brushing, and how you'd both laughed nervously and said "sorry" at the exact same moment.
He thought about the power outage. Twenty minutes trapped between floors. How you'd been the one to break the silence with a joke about the universe trying to give you both a forced bonding experience. How he'd laughed so hard he'd snorted, and how you'd looked at him like that was exactly the reaction you'd been hoping for.
He thought about asking you out. The terror of it. The way his heart had hammered against his ribs as he'd stepped into the lobby that rainy Tuesday, determined, terrified, completely unprepared for how you'd say yes before he'd even finished his sentence.
He thought about every moment since. Every laugh, every conversation, every time you'd looked at him like he was something special, when really, he was just a guy who'd been lucky enough to find you.
He thought about the way you'd curled into him. How you trusted him enough to fall apart in his arms, to let him put you back together. How you'd let him wash your hair and dry your feet and dress you in his clothes like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He thought about how you always smelled like sunshine and something floral, even after a long day. He thought about how your laugh sounded like coming home.
He thought about the future. About mornings and evenings and grocery runs and lazy Sundays. About arguments they'd have and make up from. About growing old, about gray hair and wrinkled hands and still reaching for each other in the dark.
Maki thought about forever.
And he realized, with a certainty that settled warm and solid in his chest, that forever with you still wouldn't be long enough.
His arm tightened around you, just slightly, pulling you closer. You stirred, making a soft, sleepy sound, and he pressed another kiss to your hair.
"Love you," he whispered into the darkness. "So much."
You didn't answer. You were already asleep. But your hand, still resting on his chest, curled a little tighter around his fingers and that was answer enough.
Maki closed his eyes, your warmth seeping into his bones, your scent filling his lungs, your heartbeat a quiet lullaby against his ribs.
He smiled to himself—one of those soft, private smiles that only existed in moments like this. His dimples appeared, even in the dark.
You snuggled closer to Maki, fitting yourself against your side like you'd been doing it your whole life. And maybe you had been.
Maybe you'd just been waiting for the right elevator.
fin.
A/N: oh to have a love like the one Maki gives :((( yeah i had the saddest playlist on whilst writing this
divider by @diviniyae
@eu1joo @7yataki @frenchkisstheabyss @yumangel @nichozzystuffs @blueuijoo @pglpblm @ikigaijo @antonh0lic @dearvampyr @riri4andy @tokunodoll @sunsoomi @makizdoll @solairemelo @cece0710 + Shoot me an ask or comment to be added
featured employees: sunghoon x fem!reader | custom order 📋
staff notes: haha me next.. im so serious.. is this thing on? helloooo
“so fucking pretty like this,” sunghoon grunted, his hips slamming into yours.
he had your legs pinned to your chest, hands gripping the back your thighs, using his weight to pin you down as he thrusted into you. you were already leaking from his fifth load of the night. you’d lost count how many times you’ve cum yourself. you two had been going at it for almost two hours, no breaks, because sunghoon wanted to fill you up as much as possible.
his pace sharpened, thrusts becoming hard and deliberate, the wet sounds between you two filling the room. he pulled out until just the tip was in before slamming back into you, the head of his dick hitting against the spot that made your toes curl every time.
“fuck— look baby,” he leaned back. he slid a hand above the visible bulge in your lower stomach. “see how deep i am inside you?”
all you could manage was a shaky nod and a broken moan, too cockdrunk to form words. he’d be lying if he said he felt bad—because he didn’t. he had a plan and was sticking to it.
“gonna make you a mommy,” he muttered, sliding his arms beneath you to grip your ass. he fucked into you harder, forcing himself deeper.
it didn’t take long for him or you to cum again. yours ripped through you like a shock, only longer, more intense.
“there you go,” he groaned, his voice rough as he stretched you out just right. his rhythm slowed, pumping a fresh load of thick white ropes inside you. he kept his grip on you tight, grinding through both of your releases, pushing his seed deeper with short, lazy thrusts.
“all for you, baby. that’s all for you.”
your body trembled beneath him, his cum already leaking out of you, soaking into the sheets. sunghoon didn’t stop there—he couldn’t. he refused to actually. he flipped you onto your stomach, dragged a finger between your sensitive folds, gathering a mix of your own orgasm and his cum.
“you see that, babe? you’re such a messy girl for me,” he said proudly, climbing over you, his knees on either side of your thighs, locking you under him.
he lined his dick up with your soaked entrance, not giving you enough to time brace yourself before pushing himself right in. the pleasure shoots right through you, making your body tremble.
“f-fuck— hoon— please…” you choked out, nails digging into the back of his thigh.
“i know, baby. i know…” he cooed against your ear, lips trialing kisses down your neck and across your shoulder. “you’re doing so good. taking me so well.”
his chest melted into your spine like it belonged there, bodies aligning. his hips rolled slowly, carefully, every push going deeper. the complete opposite from how he was fucking you a minute ago.
“cmon, lemme see that pretty face while i fill you up.” he slid a hand around your neck—not to choke, just enough to tilt your head back and get a good look at you.
your face was flushed, eyes glassy, lips parted, soft whimpers spilling out. your walls fluttered around him as another lazy orgasm passed through you.
“last one, baby— fuck.. i promise,” he strained, his grip tightening slightly as he delivers one final thrust. he slid a hand under your stomach, wanting to feel himself inside you as he pumped you full.
sunghoon pushes forward again, grinding the head of his dick against that sensitive spot once more. he didn’t stop until every drop was buried deep. he stayed there until his own hips gave out.
“so pretty when you’re full.” he breathes, pressing a kiss against your temple before looking down at the mess he made inside of you.
# | store disclaimer: all work is fictional and is not a real depiction of our staff outside the store !
ZHAO YUFAN ✶ 𝓣 HE B𝓞 YFRIEND, THE 𝓑ARBER, AND 𝓣 HE BREAK𝓓OWN
SYN james learns that actions have consequences. you learn that apparently haircuts can have consequences too.
❤︎ ٰ zhao yufan ⭒ f!r ‹𝟹 ⸻ the art of loving 𓈒
you stare at james from across the room and immediately feel your chest tighten. the moment he walks through the door, your brain refuses to process what it's seeing.
you stare. and stare. and stare some more. there must be a mistake because the image in front of you makes absolutely no sense. james left the apartment this morning looking like james.
the man currently standing in the doorway looks like somebody used a character customization screen and dragged the hair slider all the way down.
his hair is gone. well, not gone gone, but close enough to send you into mourning. the hairstyle you've spent months absentmindedly playing with during movie nights has been reduced to something that looks criminally short.
he doesn't notice at first, too busy taking off his shoes and rambling about his day. he's halfway through a story about his barber when he finally looks up and sees your expression, the smile slowly slipping off his face. his eyebrows pull together in confusion as he glances around the room, checking if something terrible happened while he was gone.
when his eyes land back on you, you're already looking way too emotional.
"why are you looking at me like that?"
the question breaks whatever fragile thread was holding you together. your lips tremble before you can stop them. you point at his head with devastation. he follows your finger upward and frowns.
"no, no, no," your eyes start watering.
he lets out a horrified laugh because surely you're joking. unfortunately for him, you are not joking in the slightest.
a tear escapes before you can stop it. the second it rolls down your cheek, james' face transforms from amusement to absolute panic.
"no!" you burst into tears.
the sound that leaves his mouth is somewhere between a scream and a malfunctioning appliance, practically launching himself across the room to reach you. within seconds he's kneeling in front of the couch, grabbing your hands while staring at you with genuine concern.
"you cut your hair."
the fact that you're sobbing over a haircut hasn't fully registered yet. his protective instincts activated before his critical thinking skills could catch up. "baby, what's wrong?"
james blinks. then he blinks again. he slowly turns his head toward the nearest reflective surface as if maybe the mirror will explain what's happening. the room becomes so quiet that you can hear him processing the information in real time.
when he looks back at you, his mouth hangs open. "that's why you're crying?"
"you cut it too short," you try to explain yourself, but every sentence gets interrupted by another wave of emotional devastation.
james watches helplessly while you mourn the loss of several inches of hair. the more you cry, the more guilty he starts feeling despite having absolutely no clue how he got himself into this situation.
"i thought somebody died."
"it did."
"what died?"
"your hair!"
james throws his head back toward the ceiling, closing his eyes. a long, exhausted sigh leaves his body.
he opens his eyes again and immediately softens when he sees your miserable expression. "oh, sweetheart."
you hate how pathetic you sound when another sob escapes. james reaches up and cups your face with both hands, thumbs gently wiping away tears while he tries—and fails—not to smile. the corners of his mouth keep twitching upward every few seconds, clearly fighting for his life.
"don't laugh."
"i'm not laughing."
"you are."
"i'm trying not to."
that only makes you cry harder. he pulls you against his chest before another accusation can leave your mouth.
one arm wraps around your shoulders while the other rubs slow circles across your back. "it'll grow back."
"not fast enough."
"it literally grows every day."
you can physically feel him suppressing laughter above your head. "you don't understand."
"then explain it to me."
"you had perfect hair. i loved the old one."
james leans forward until your foreheads touch, his hands settling on either side of your face again.
he reaches up and gently smooths a hand over the side of his newly-short hair. for the first time, he actually seems to understand why you're upset.
he knows how attached you get to little things. he knows how much comfort you find in familiar routines and familiar versions of the people you love.
the sight of him trying so hard to take your hair-related grief seriously almost makes you laugh. "i'm sorry i shocked you. i look ugly, don't i?"
"no."
"then why are you crying this hard?"
"because you actually walked into a barbershop, sat down in a chair, looked another human being in the eye, and willingly allowed them to butcher your hair!"
james lets out a laugh so loud it startles both of you. before you can protest, he pulls you right back into his arms, chin resting on top of your head while he continues laughing into your hair. eventually the laughter fades into soft kisses pressed against your forehead.
"baby, couples who match stay together."
your head remains tucked beneath his chin while the forgotten takeout he got for you on the way home sits cold by the front door, abandoned in favor of dealing with the emotional fallout of a haircut that should never have existed in the first place.
the worst of your tears have passed, leaving behind the occasional sniffle and a lingering sadness that resurfaces every time your eyes wander toward his head. somewhere in the back of your mind, you're already beginning to accept reality, even if acceptance tastes bitter.
james, unfortunately, mistakes your temporary peace for recovery.
you lift your head slightly and glance up at him. "what?"
his eyes drift toward the ceiling for a moment while he organizes whatever nonsense has been brewing inside his head, and the longer he takes, the more nervous you become.
there are people who pause because they're searching for the right words. james pauses because he enjoys building suspense.
but suspense rarely benefits the people forced to listen to him. "okay, hear me out."
you know that tone and that expression. you know the particular sparkle in his eyes that appears whenever he's convinced himself he's about to change someone's life with an idea that should have remained private.
somewhere in the distance, common sense begins packing its bags and leaving the conversation.
"i'm listening."
james brightens instantly. "so . . . bob?"
your brain refuses to process the words. then the meaning settles in. then the image appears and the horror arrives. you stare at him while the full weight of his suggestion crashes directly into your soul.
he watches the realization happen in real time, every ounce of color drains from his face because your eyes have already started filling with tears.
"oh, no," he watches your expression crumble piece by piece, every second bringing him closer to disaster.
he seems to finally understand that suggesting additional hair removal to someone actively mourning hair removal may have lacked strategic brilliance.
"you want me to cut my hair too?" the question comes out weak and wounded.
james immediately starts shaking his head, panic spreading across his face with impressive speed.
his hands rise defensively, searching desperately for an explanation capable of saving him from the consequences currently approaching. nothing useful arrives. every possible response sounds terrible. every available path leads directly toward failure.
"no, that's— okay, hearing it out loud sounds worse."
"sounds worse?"
"i mean—"
"another haircut? that's your solution? and a bob?"
his head drops backward against the couch while a groan escapes from somewhere deep within his soul. one hand covers his face completely, his fingers dragging downward in the universal gesture of somebody realizing they've ruined their own evening.
above them all, fate quietly adds another tally mark beside james' name.
years later, whenever the story resurfaced, james would still insist that the idea sounded significantly better inside his head.
can i request anton being really mean to the reader because of his own stress then after seeing her cry, degrade herself, & try to brush it off take really good care of her sweetly
didn't know if you wanted it nsfw taking care of her or what so... i made it nsfw taking care of her....
a/n: i need him so fucking bad it's unhealthy,,,,,,,,
cw: angst to comfort, emotional distress, crying, self-degradation, praise kink, aftercare, soft/slow sex, breast play, clitoral stimulation, unprotected sex, creampie.
anton had been staring at the same music production screen for six hours, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. the comeback deadline was looming, the producers kept sending back his tracks with vague notes, and his hands were cramping from adjusting the same midi lines over and over. he was drowning, suffocating under the pressure, and the pounding headache behind his eyes was making him physically sick.
when you quietly unlocked the door to his studio, carrying a bag of his favorite takeout and a iced coffee, you thought you were helping.
"tony" you murmured, stepping into the dim, neon-lit room. "i brought you some dinner. you haven't eaten since—"
"i told you not to come here today" he cut you off, his voice flat, ice-cold, and entirely devoid of the gentle warmth he usually saved just for you. he didn't even turn around to look at you.
"i know, but you weren't answering your texts and i got worried" you said softly, walking over to set the bag on the small coffee table behind his desk. "just take a five-minute break, okay? you need to breathe."
anton let out a sharp, ugly scoff, finally spinning his chair around. his eyes were bloodshot, his long hair messy, and the glare he leveled at you made you freeze in your tracks.
"are you deaf?" he snapped, his voice rising, sharp and biting in the quiet studio. "i said i was busy. do you not have anything better to do than follow me around like a lost dog? i'm trying to actually work, and you're just standing there suffocating me. you're so fucking needy."
the words hit you like a physical slap. anton had never, ever spoken to you like that.
"i... i just wanted to bring you food" you whispered, your throat tightening instantly. the sudden sting of tears prickled your eyes, and before you could blink them away, a heavy drop spilled down your cheek.
you tried to swallow the sob rising in your chest, but it came out as a broken, pathetic hiccup. you immediately looked down, hating yourself for being so sensitive, your mind instantly spiraling into the worst thoughts.
"i'm sorry" you choked out, your voice trembling as you began to completely tear yourself down out of sheer panic and hurt. "i'm stupid. i'm so stupid, i always do this. i'm just annoying and i ruin everything... i'm sorry for being a burden, anton. i'll just—i'll go."
you wiped your face roughly with the sleeve of your sweater, trying to laugh it off, trying to act like your chest wasn't caving in. "it's fine, really. i'm just being dramatic. eat the food when you're done."
you turned around to grab the doorknob, your hands shaking so badly you could barely grip the metal.
but before your fingers could twist it, two big, heavy hands clamped onto your waist from behind, pulling you back against a broad chest.
the anger in anton's posture evaporated the second he heard your voice break. seeing you standing there, crying and literally calling yourself stupid and annoying because he had snapped—it completely shattered him. the stress that had been clouding his brain vanished, replaced by an overwhelming, suffocating wave of guilt.
"hey— no, wait. stop" anton panted, his voice completely different now—thick, panicked, and desperate. he turned you around in his grip, forcing you to face him, but you kept your head ducked, refusing to let him see how ruined you looked.
"look at me, baby. please" he begged, his large hands moving up to cup your face, his long fingers wiping the fresh tears streaming down your cheeks. when you tried to pull away, he just held you tighter, pulling your forehead against his chest. "fuck, i'm so sorry. i didn't mean it. i swear to god i didn't mean any of it."
"no, you're right" you sobbed against his shirt, your hands clutching his wrists to try and push him away. "i shouldn't have come. i'm just annoying—"
"stop saying that" he choked out, his own voice cracking as he buried his face in your hair. he was holding you so tightly it almost hurt, his big frame trembling with the suddenn fear that he had genuinely broken something between you. "don't say that about yourself. you're not stupid. you're the best thing i have. i'm the one who's a piece of shit. i'm the one who's pathetic for taking my stress out on you when you were just trying to take care of me."
he guided you over to the studio couch, pulling you down into his lap so you were sitting sideways across his thighs. anton didn't care about the music anymore, didn't care about the deadlines. he just wrapped his long arms entirely around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, kissing the sensitive skin there over and over again until your sobbing began to slow down.
"i'm so sorry, sweetgirl" he murmured, his breath hot and shaky against your skin. "i was so mean to you. you don't deserve that. look how much you're shaking... look what i did to you."
his hands slid under your sweater, his large, warm palms pressing directly against the bare skin of your waist, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. the contrast of his earlier cruelty versus how desperately sweet and worshipful he was being now made your brain feel completely melted.
"tony.." you whispered, hiccuping against his shoulder.
"i've got you," he whispered back, his large fingers tangling in your hair, gently pulling your head back so he could look at you. his eyes were so soft, so completely obsessed and filled with devotion. "let me fix it. let me take care of you now, okay? you've been so good to me, and i was so bad."
he leaned in, kissing your wet eyelids, your cheeks, the tip of your nose, before finally pressing his lips to yours. the kiss wasn't rough or demanding—it was deep, slow, and incredibly sweet, his tongue sliding against yours with a soft, wet rhythm that made you moan quietly into his mouth.
anton groaned at the sound, his hands shifting to grip your thighs, pulling you closer until your pelvis was pressed flush against his. even through his sweatpants, you could feel how hard he already was, his length pulsing thick and heavy against you.
"you're so perfect" he panted against your lips, his fingers digging into the soft meat of your thighs. "so sweet for coming all this way to see me. let me give you what you want. let me make you feel good until you forget i was ever mean to you."
he didn't even wait for you to answer, his hands immediately moving to slip your pants and panties off with reverent, heavy touches, kissing every single inch of skin he exposed like he was begging for your forgiveness with his mouth.
anton groaned as he guided you down onto the leather couch, your bare skin contrasting against the dark material. he kicked his sweatpants away, exposing himself—already thick and weeping with pre-cum from how desperately he needed to feel you. he hovered over you, his tall, broad frame completely blocking out the rest of the dim studio, making you feel so tiny and safe underneath him.
"look at you" he whispered, his voice incredibly thick and deep as he parted your knees, settling his weight right between your thighs. "so beautiful for me. let me come inside, yeah? let me fix this."
he didn't rush. he positioned the blunt head of his shaft against your wet opening and slid inside in one slow, agonizingly deep stroke. a shaky sigh escaped your lips, your fingers immediately curling into his shoulders as his length filled you completely, stretching your tight walls.
"fuck... you're so warm" anton choked out, his eyes closing for a second as he leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. "you fit me so perfectly, sweetgirl. such a good girl for taking me so easily."
he started moving in a long, rolling rhythm, his hips grinding slow and heavy against yours. every thrust was deliberate, meant to worship you, not hurt you. he reached up with both hands, bunching the hem of your shirtand pushing it up to your collarbone to expose your breasts. anton's gaze darkened, his breath hitching at the sight of your flushed skin.
"so pretty" he murmured, leaning down to bury his face in your chest. he took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking on it sweetly, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak until you were whimpering, your head rolling back against the couch cushions. he switched to the other side, using his teeth just enough to make you gasp, his thumb sliding down between your bodies at the same time.
his long fingers easily found your swollen clit, his thumb pressing down and rubbing in small, rhythmic circles that perfectly matched the slow pace of his hips.
the double stimulation was too much. you sobbed out his name, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist to pull him even deeper. "anton— ah, tony, please—"
"i'm right here. i've got you" he whispered against your skin, his voice raspy and full of devotion. he kept his movements steady, fucking you with that agonizingly slow, deep friction while his thumb kept working against your wet nub. "you're doing so well for me, baby. look how pretty your face gets when you're melting like this. i love the way you feel around my cock. so tight."
every time you whimpered, he kissed the sound straight out of your mouth, his tongue sliding against yours in a lazy, deep rhythm. he kept praising you, telling you how perfect you were, how much he loved your body, until all the lingering hurt from earlier completely dissolved into pure, heavy pleasure.
"that's it, cum for me" he groaned, feeling your muscles begin to twitch and clench frantically around him. he sped up just a fraction, his pelvis slamming a little harder against yours, his thumb applying just enough pressure to send you over the edge. "show me how much you like it. let me feel you squeeze me."
you moaned into his shoulder as your body shattered, a heavy, soaking climax clamping down hard around his entire length. the intense pulling of your walls broke whatever restraint anton had left. he let out a low, shaky groan, burying his face in your neck as he delivered three more deep, unyielding thrusts, bottoming out completely against your womb before his own body seized up.
he came hard, filling you up with thick, hot pulses of semen, his hips stuttering against yours as he emptied himself inside you.
afterward, he didn't pull away. he collapsed his weight carefully onto his elbows so he wouldn't crush you, his chest heaving as he panted against your skin. he kept his thumb gently resting against your sensitive core, his other hand sliding up to smooth your messy hair away from your face.
"i've got you" he whispered, pressing sweet, soft kisses all over your cheeks and jaw, his voice full of that gentle, quiet adoration you knew so well. "you're so perfect. thank you for taking care of me, baby. i love you so much."
contains : subby anton, subby reader, mutual masturbation, heavy making out, lots of whimpering, praise, shy & needy vibes, consensual and super soft
word count : 1,056
notes : i love this :3 requested by one of my favs!2!!
you and anton were tangled up on his bed, both breathing fast and shy. the lights were dim, only his purple led strip glowing softly. you were both in just underwear, legs tangled, faces inches apart.
anton’s cheeks were bright pink. his big hands kept fidgeting on your waist like he did not know what to do with them.
“can we… kiss more?” he whispered, voice all small and breathy. you nodded quickly, just as shy, and leaned in.
the kiss started soft and nervous, lips brushing, then slowly got deeper. you both whimpered into it at the same time. anton’s tongue shyly touched yours and you melted, sliding your hand up his chest. he made the cutest little sound and pulled you closer, one big hand cupping the back of your neck.
you could feel how hard he was against your thigh. you were soaked too. the kiss turned messier, more desperate. little moans and wet sounds filled the room as you both got braver.
“can i… touch you?” you whispered against his lips, voice trembling.
anton nodded so fast it was almost funny. “please… i want to touch you too.”
your hand slid down his stomach and wrapped around his cock over his boxers first. he gasped sharply, hips twitching. you tugged his boxers down just enough and wrapped your fingers around his bare length. he was so big and warm and already leaking.
“ah— fuck…” anton whimpered, forehead pressed to yours. his hand shook as he slipped it into your panties, fingers finding how wet you were. “you are so wet… is that because of me?”
you nodded, embarrassed but so turned on, stroking him slowly. “yes… you make me like this.”
he moaned softly and started rubbing your clit in gentle circles, matching your pace. both of you were breathing into each other’s mouths, kissing between whimpers.
“feels so good,” he whined, voice cracking. his long fingers slid down and pushed one inside you carefully. you moaned loudly and tightened your grip on his cock, stroking him faster.
you kept making out the whole time. sloppy, desperate kisses, tongues sliding together, little gasps whenever one of you hit a good spot. anton’s hips kept twitching into your hand, chasing the pleasure while his fingers curled inside you.
“you are so big…” you whispered shyly, thumb swirling over his leaking tip. “i love touching you like this.”
anton’s head fell back for a second, eyes fluttering. “your hand feels so much better than mine… please do not stop— i am so close already…”
you whimpered and kissed him harder, pumping him faster while his fingers sped up inside you. the wet sounds of his fingers and your hand on his cock filled the room. both of you were trembling, moaning into each other’s mouths.
“gonna cum—” you gasped, hips grinding against his hand.
“me too— together please—” anton begged, voice all broken and pretty.
you came first with a soft cry, clenching around his fingers. anton followed right after, moaning your name as he spilled all over your hand and his own stomach in thick pulses. you kept stroking him gently through it while he kept rubbing your clit until you were both oversensitive and shaking.
afterwards you stayed pressed together, breathing hard, faces buried in each other’s necks. anton’s arms wrapped around you tightly like he never wanted to let go.
“that was so good…” he whispered, voice hoarse and shy. “i love when we touch each other like that.”
you nodded, pressing little kisses to his collarbone. “me too. you make the prettiest sounds.”
anton hid his face in your hair, ears bright red. “stoppp you are embarrassing me…” but he was smiling so big, legs still tangled with yours.
you both stayed like that for a long time, trading soft kisses and gentle touches, whispering how much you loved making each other feel good. no pressure, no rush — just two shy babies being needy and in love together.
Author note~ this idea is from a request that I accidentally deleted 😔 so anon if you're still out there this is what I made for you! 🩷 This is also my first audio so like... Yeah
Warnings~ heavy moaning, very quiet wet sounds in the background, I can't think of anything else tbh
Hi hi!! Can I please request a Pt!2 of virgin Maki where he’s learning to give her head and then they go at it (have sex) or smthn PLEASEEEE cause this was TOOOO GOOD
Can you keep him being vocal and sensitive too? Cause it’s obvs his first time and we all know he’s a yapper (cant be non-chalant to save his life) THANK YOUUUUU
MY FIRST PT.2!!!!!!! — first part here ✿゙
i love love this fic sm— i’m so glad i get to continue it~ i’m also extremely grateful that it has received so much love ૮ ྀི◞͈ ˔ ◟͈ ྀིა .
love, wanii ᢉ𐭩
❤︎ pop this cherry pt. 2 — virgin! maki
⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ your awkward best friend maki learning to give you head after his first blow job.
tags ⸝⸝ maki’s first time, clueless maki, awkward maki, oral (receiving), afab! reader, facial, whiny maki, coaching him.
it all died down, your lips slick and swollen, dripping with long strands of his cum.
his long whiny pants slowly returning to steady long breaths, hands still tangled in your hair, slowly relaxing.
your eyes glisten as he stares down at you, the painful tears still flooding down. his eye lids heavy, damp bangs stuck to his forehead. the game still ongoing behind you, but neither of you paid much mind to it. finding the fire in your stomach grows more intense— insatiable thirst. it was all still awkward, your face messy, hair tangled, knees bruised against the ground. it was his first time getting head, and you felt a bit guilty for being the first time. lips trembling, head foggy— trying to a form a sentence to break the tension. yet it all crumpled, faded faster that you could grasp it.
he snap his head up, a deep grunt as he stood, legs still wobbly, he pulls you by the arm, shoving you onto the couch, pinning you down by the shoulders, lips ghosting the crook of your neck, pushing himself further onto you. “your turn~” low and raspy whines. “you’ll just have to coach me.” he lowered himself between your legs, hands spreading your legs apart, fingers hooked your panties, swiftly tugging them down, throwing them to the side. now propping your thighs onto his broad shoulders. you didn’t have time to fight it, you also had to admit you didn’t hate where this was going.
his eyes widen, awed at just how wet you were, bringing his kisses to your thighs, admiring the way you twitch under him, slowly inching closer to your heat. until he pressed on a soft kiss to your clit, making you whine under him, hips bucking at the sensitive gesture, each kiss got messier, sloppier, losing its control.
saliva running down his chin, tongue now lapping at your sensitive clit, hesitant strokes without much purpose. you felt a sharp pain, his teeth scraping your wet folds. “ow— fuck . . . no” you whine, hands grasping at his head, pulling his mouth off.
he tilt his head like a lost puppy, gripping him by imaginary scruff, lips slick and plump, hands anxiously massaging your sensitive inner thighs. “hm?” he hums, nuzzling his head deeper into your touch. he felt like messy puppy that got caught doing something he shouldn’t.
“you’re biting— not eating . . .” his lips pouted, that cute innocent expression that made your heart melt. “i don’t know what i’m doing…” his tone light, delicate with his wistful gaze. a high pitched whine before returning to you.
he groans against your wet folds, hands prying your squirming legs farther apart. he took more care into consideration, he was less mindless about how he moved— your hips bucking against his hot tongue, maki’s nose buried in between your legs. your taste on his tongue, eyes trailing over you to your glistening eyes. watching your face tense, your lush lips part, the way your hands fisted the couch cushions.
his tongue, which was once wary now made broad glides, circling your clit. teasing the hot sensitive bundle of nerves. flicking, savoring every last drop of your arousal. he was testing the waters, seeing what rewarded him and what left him empty handed.
he watched as your eyes rolled back, hands pushing him deeper into you, squirming under every trace— his tongue moved rapidly and lightly, flattening his tongue once more.
you feel your stomach tighten, your hips stutter. and it all blurred, choked whines crying from you. coming undone, wetness hitting his face. waves of immense pleasure washing over your features.
squirming under his thick hands— maki pinning you down, his tongue never slowing down, waiting until your body goes limp under him for his tongue to retract.
delicate whines whimper out of his pouted lips, hands cleaning his lips.
🗒️ hiiiii~!! please interact with this post and/or my page if you finished it, it helps motivate me to write more!! if you have any requests or ideas you’d like to share my inbox is open atm!! do not copy or translate any of my works.
that awkward moment where everyone thinks you're dating your roommate...that awkward moment when he thinks that too.
roommate!jungwon x gn reader
HAIIII GAIS ^^ i genuinely can't believe i got cortis tickets so as a celebration heres some wonie love 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤 i need him so badly Please email me Mister Yang. also plz ignore spelling mistakes. im js a boy.
meet the infamous vampire brothers, everyone knows as james and maki. lucky you get to know them more personally.
warnings: fluff + nsfw. mdni. — afab!reader… maki has a tongue piercing, james has an eyebrow piercing, nightclub setting, mentions of dates and weird date locations, petnames (darling, my love, doll, human) heavy makeouts, detailed descriptions of human anatomy, romantic vampire! james, flamboyant wild vampire!maki, mentions of blood drinking/sucking & teeth/fangs, they both want reader (????), sex positions, slight temperature play, vampire munches mentioned, etc etc… >.<
sticky note: adding onto this previous post… ask and u shall receive!! emptied out my brain and dumped it on here with this au… hope u all like itttt ૮ ྀིᴗ͈ . ᴗ͈ ྀིა
vampire!maki, the younger brother. who’s the one you first meet at a nightclub, pulls you into his lap and offers a sip from his own glass while promising he won’t bite when you’re a bit reluctant… he is cute though, so you stay the the whole night until you can’t handle the liquor he ends up pouring into your mouth.
vampire!maki, who was close to ripping out his undead heart from nerves when he told you what he really was after a couple of hang outs together, almost shedding tears of blood when you shrugged it off saying you already knew. he was too cold, too pale to even pass as human, and he wasn’t slick with the way he’d sniff so intently at your neck.
vampire!maki, who lives a wild, more glamorously loud life compared to his brother who is still always in the same function but sitting silently at the other end of the couch, eyeing people over the dark colored glass stuck to his purplish lips.
vampire!maki, who’s more loud with his infatuation; showing you off and constantly yapping to his friends about you, getting you the most random gifts at horrible times of the dead night, making out with you whenever and whenever the carnal hunger overtakes his other senses.
vampire!maki, who takes you out in the most unconventional places for just a fun night, but still makes it so thrilling by showing how he basically lives his lifestyle as a vampire (a butcher shop, or in an abandoned church, or in a snowy cemetery).
vampire!maki, who makes feeding more of a playful mess full of eroticism, he can’t help it. your blood smells so good, taste even better on his pierced tongue, has to share it with you in a fit of giggles while he pushes your own thick crimson blood into your own mouth in a messy, heated kisses.
vampire!james, the older brother. who keeps his eye on you since the moment in the nightclub.. until the time is right, meeting you in the kitchen of his one late night when you both grab a drink. catches your eye with his sunken, tired gaze and sharp pierced eyebrows, that one bandaid always placed on the sharp edge of his cheekbone, he ruffles his blond hair that reminds you so much of your other lover… his brother.
vampire!james, who stalks how you move in the dance floor with maki with another person already attached to his own hip, accidentally piercing his bottom lip when he sees you take maki’s large glasses off his face and slide them on as maki’s hands pull your hips closer towards his own.
vampire!james, who’s infatuation is more alluring with his mysterious yet flirty approach, quietly looming and smiling only when you’re both enclosed in an intimate space. he doesn’t care to show his retracted canines, or the blood staining his teeth and lips when he pulls away from his favorite drink.
vampire!james, who’s says he wants to show you something, grabs you by the hand and takes you to the most breathtaking places just to watch your enthusiasm with a glint of endearment in his darkened eyes (the rooftop of a cathedral, libraries after closing or opera theatres).
vampire!james, who always makes sure he’s leading his meal out the nightclub before the night ends.. but hasn’t feed every since he met you because he’s the type to starve himself just so he can have the full natural taste of your blood ever since he smelled it up close.
vampire!james, who makes feeding more of a sacred ritual, planting gentle slow kisses and littering them with light grazes of his canines as he gently but firmly grips your hair to crane your neck for his sharp teeth. licks over the wound with such reverent and kisses you deeply, uttering soft phrases of his gratitude.
— nsfw below!! ꜜ ꜜ
vampire!maki, who because has ventured long enough in the world to not give a fuck about unwritten human society rules, would take you anywhere and everywhere and let people join in (only if you want to) but god forbid somebody asks for a tiny taste of your neck. “oh? i heard your heart beat faster.. what? you getting excited about him joining, human?”
vampire!james, who dislikes just even the idea of sharing you, very possessive and always devoured you whole until you’re left only remembered the feeling of him deep inside you or the gentle whispers he left in your burned red ears as he nips gently. “can’t believe he would share this delicacy. you’re mine when you’re with me, you got that?”
vampire!maki, who loves when you flinch at the initial touch of his cold fingertips against your warm sex, giggling between words: “oh you poor doll. already trembling for me? all i did was touch her..” unlike his brother..
vampire!james, who instead sucks the shocked gasp from your parted lips and murmurs gently in your mouth, “shhh, my love. i promise i’ll warm up to you soon, share your warmth with me.”
vampire!maki, who’s favorite position is between your thighs. best place to feed right on your femoral vein, watching your panties get soaked right in front of his hazy reddened eyes the more he sucks and the more you pull straight on the roots of his bright blond hair. caught in the dilemma of what do to first: eating you out or actually feed. “god, please let me eat you a bit more.”
vampire!james, who’s favorite position is folding you in his arms, mating press. sharp nose pressed against your scm muscle, sinking underneath skin right when your soft walls grow tight enough and hands grip hard enough on his blond spiky hair to bring him over the edge. almost tears through his burgundy silk sheets with how bad his grip gets and his restraint loosens. “you’re perfect, my darling. take all of me.”
vampire!maki, who loves when you bite him back and giggles and moans loudly as you bite around his pecs and by his hips. absolute freak that loves to smother your blood all over his face because those burgundy stained glasses are for james, he drinks unconventionally.
vampire!james, who essentially growls and smiles when you nip down on his finger knuckles after he pressed them into your mouth. psychological play.. pricks his fingertip with his own fang and lets you suck out your own blood that’s running in his body through his fingertip.
vampire brothers!maki and james, who love you and your body like that exact moment would be the last night ever in your life and utters through your mind in such a deep, lovely tone, “my brother could never love you like this. exactly how i’m loving you right now.”
wrnings: mature themes, (mdni!!) mature themes include: face riding, lots of kissing, unprotected p in v, HEAD, creampie yussss.
w/c: 4.0k
desc: the local skateboard group of guys is a bunch of nobodies. they’re loud, rowdy, and overall unpleasant. you don’t like the group of guys, but when one of the guys befriends you, he just might make you change your mind about skateboarders.
me speaking: sorry about being m.i.a. i have been on struggle bus, ticket to struggle town rn and it’s just bad. anyways, i finally finished this so im pretty excited! keonho catches strays in this one, he’s a meany pants (in this ff) so he deserves it lol. hugs and kisses, thank you for being patient with me.
“God what’s she doing here again with that shitty digicam..” One of the guys complain and everyone in the group groans. You’re always here when they want to skate taking pictures of shit. Never them of course, but you stay for like thirty minutes, that’s thirty minutes too long!
“Dude she’s a total creepazoid. Like, she literally stays here and makes us uncomfortable! Like I can’t even do a dive when she’s staring at me all weird!”
“She’s a bitch too, she never lets me cheat off her during tests. Like what the fuck, I’m trying to pass too!” The other guy adds in.
“Shut up, she just has a hobby. She’s not harming us.” The other shoots back, making the guys all roll their eyes.
“Well then James, talk to her, tell her to get off our turf.” The taller guy says, challenging him.
“Fine. But if she doesn’t listen, don't say I didn’t try.” James gets up and starts walking towards you, stopping abruptly in his tracks. “And you owe me chips from the vending machine at school dipshit.”
The taller guy sticks out his tongue and James continues walking towards you. You have your back to him and he clears his throat rather loudly, startling you. “Uhm, me and my friends wanna skate and you’re kinda ruining the vibe.”
You frown. “Get over it, I’m just taking pictures.”
He rolls his eyes. “There’s gotta be more interesting places to take your digicam than here. Plus, it’s creepy how you’re always here when we come, it’s like you’re stalking us.”
“I have much better things to do than stalk.” You deadpan. “And no, this boring town truly has nothing on the view this public skatepark has to offer.” You say, emphasizing ‘public.’
“Well can you just leave? We just wanna skate without you lurking around. You can come back when we’re done.”
“I’m not taking orders from a twenty year old.” You snap and he looks rather offended at this statement. “Sorry? Are you eighty or something? The fuck does my age have to do with me telling you to get lost?”
“It means that I’m not taking your shit. Now leave me alone.” You say finally.
He scoffs and walks back to his friends. Once he reaches them he throws his hands up. “See, told you she wouldn’t listen!”
“Dude. You aren’t assertive enough, watch how the real pro does it.” The one guy speaks.
He gets up and walks over to you and you huff, here they go again. “Hey weirdo, get the hell out of here, we’re trying to skate.”
“I’m not hurting anyone.” You weakly argue.
“You’re hurting our vibe.”
You groan. “What vibe? You guys just sit there for like forty-five minutes and talk. You guys don’t even skate some days.”
“Damn, you’re a bitch to me in college and out of it too.” He says, shaking his head. “Just leave bro, nobody wants you here.”
You look down at the ground as tears well up in your eyes. “Fine. I’ll go.” You walk out of the skatepark as fast as you can after being totally humiliated not once, but twice. You’re crying to yourself because once again, nobody wants you somewhere, as always.
A week later, the new semester at college started. So that means new classes and new faces. You notice James is in your Biology Basics class but he’s sat across the room, which means you probably won’t have to talk to him anyways.
“Okay everybody. Now, I had you sitting random for the first few days but I’d like to change that. I want to pair groups that I think would work best together. I’ve been observing you all over the week and I found a seating chart I think will benefit you all. Firstly, you.” He points at you and points towards the back table. “Across from Mr. James.”
“Oh my god.” You mutter to yourself as you get off of the barstool and trudge towards the table where James sits. You don’t even spare a glance at him as you plop down and look towards your right, back at the front of the classroom.
He’s not offended by this, he knows how he’s perceived by you, and frankly, he doesn’t care all that much. All he cares about is passing this stupid fucking class, getting past his basics, and going to a better college far far away from here. By this time next fall, he should have a ticket out of here. Will he miss his friends? Sure, but James has never been someone who has had trouble making friends, he’ll survive.
So when the Professor pairs you two together for a lab, he’s pissed. He’s pissed because he’s not playing checkers with you this entire semester, each of you trying to get at one another, fuck that. This is his ultimate test to himself this semester, make you his friend.
You don’t give him so much as a glance when you grab the dropper from the tray and begin filling it with seven drops of saline. “What’re you doing?” He asks in an annoying tone.
“The lab.” You answer simply.
“Yeah but it says six drops of saline, you did seven.”
You look back at your instructions, and shit, he’s right.
You huff. “Sorry. I can’t read, I guess.”
This statement makes him laugh. “It’s okay. It’s just saline, not like it’s acid or something.” You frown at his attempt to make you feel better, similar to the frown you gave him when he confronted you at the skate park. “I can’t make mistakes like this. This class is part of my future.”
“Well, what future is that?” He queries.
“To get the hell out of here.”
James stops for a second. You seem like a homebody, he would’ve never guessed you wanted out like him.
He nods. “I do too. I want to get out of here and go to a better college, make money, and have a better life.”
“What’s a better life entail?”
“Like maybe a house or a nice apartment, a wife, friends, to be happy. What about you? What’s a better life?”
“I just want to be me and belong somewhere.” You admit, not daring to look up from your paper. He hums. “That too.”
James and you don’t get partnered up much after that, not because you guys were bad together, just because your professor is indifferent to letting people get used to each other. You don’t see or hear much of James until you're at an off campus party with ‘friends’ a month later. He’s standing with the jerk that told you nobody wanted you at the skatepark and when he sees you, he does a double take.
You pay him no mind and continue on with your group, acting in the way you feel you should act so they include you. You’ve gotten good at that, feeling people out, being able to tell them what they want to hear.
When you’ve had entirely too much to drink, you find yourself not being able to find your friends. Hm, weird. You walk drunkenly around the party and don’t spot them, when you realize they probably abandoned you, you start to cry. You walk with blurry vision to the bathroom and someone comes out just as you reach for the doorknob, making you jump back.
“Hey you were my lab partner back during the beginning of the semester!” He says enthusiastically, then realizing you have tears running down your face. “You alright?” He asks now, worried.
“My friends, they left me here and I don’t know how to get home and I’m so drunk and-.” You feel a hand on your shoulder and it snaps you right out of your drunken crying rambling. “It’s okay, I’ll take you home.” He smiles comfortingly.
You nod, wiping the tears from your face and following him through the hallway, once out, he grabs your hand and guides you through the wave of people. You guys get to his car finally and you cautiously get in, having never been in a car with a guy before you really didn’t know what to expect.
You get comfy in the passenger seat and immediately start to shiver, it’s so cold out and you didn’t think you’d need a jacket but jesus it’s frigid in James’s car. He looks over and notices you trying not to shake uncontrollably and immediately reaches into his backseat, bringing a jacket along with him. He hands it to you without a word.
“It’s fine, I’ll be fine.” You hurriedly say.
“You’re shaking the whole car, just put it on, I don’t mind.” He responds.
Nodding, you put it on as he pulls away and heads to your apartment, with directions from you of course. It’s not that far of a drive, only fifteen minutes but you still offer to give him gas money to which he says ‘don’t worry about it.’
“Do you have to drive a lot of drunk girls home?”
“No.” He laughs. “Just Martin, I don’t even know why he insists on driving to these places knowing he can’t drive his ass back to our apartment. We always have to pick his car up a day later when he’s finally conscious.”
You bite your lip, nervous to bring this up. “Was that the guy who told me to get lost at the skatepark the one day?”
“No, that was Keonho. He’s not as mean as he seems, just tries to act tough I guess.”
“Oh.” You say. “Well I still don’t like him.”
James smiles. “That’s okay.”
“And I didn’t like you either till we were paired up.” You admit.
“What changed your mind?”
“I dunno, you were different from the James I talked to at the skatepark. I guess I didn’t expect it. You pleasantly surprised me.”
He hums and continues driving down your road, stopping at your apartment. You get out and thank him and he does that award winning smile that almost makes your heart stop. You’re still so drunk that you forget you still have his jacket on and when you do realize, you mentally berate yourself. You’ll give it to him tomorrow in class, no big deal.
-
Tomorrow comes and you’re hardly awake as you drive to the college. You feel half dead but you did remember his jacket thank god. You see him in the back corner and you wordlessly hand him his jacket to which he wordlessly pushes it back towards you. Your eyebrows stitch together. “Don’t you want this back?”
He shakes his head. “Keep it, looks better on you anyways.” Now that makes your heart stop, the casual compliment totally makes you land on your ass. “Oh. Thanks!” You say a little too enthusiastically.
“Hey there’s another party at my friend Niki’s apartment this weekend. It’s lowkey. If you wanna come, I can take you with me.”
“Uhm, sure. If you want to.”
“Of course I want to, we’re friends.” He states simply and you smile to yourself. Maybe you can make friends after all.
-
You try not to dress too nice for this party, don’t want to come off as trying too hard or anything. You want to look nice though, don’t want James to be embarrassed. You may or may not have formed a tiny little crush on James, but nothing major. You told yourself after the last one that you’d never do that again and you’re sticking to it. Although, there’s nothing harmful in having a crush. He wouldn’t like you back anyways, you’re safe.
James picks you up and you guys talk casually during the car ride. It turns out Niki’s place isn’t far from yours, which is good for the butterflies in your stomach begging to get out from James being in such close proximity. You’re not sure if downplaying this crush is working anymore but that’s a problem for another day.
When you guys get there you’re met with many warm smiles and waves. There’s a couple of girls there which is good you think, you won’t be the odd one out. As the night passes by, James excuses himself to get a drink and you feel a sudden pit in your stomach. Uh oh, now you’re alone with people you hardly know. And something feels wrong, your anxiety peaks suddenly.
When you look back at the kitchen later, you see James and a girl from earlier talking, and she’s rather close to him, and she’s whispering in his ear, and he’s smiling, and-. “I’m going to go outside and get some air, be right back.” You feign a smile and tell the other girl, she nods and you sneak out the door running down the hallway and into the night.
You hate to start crying but you just can’t help it. Yes, this crush is bigger than you originally had thought, and seeing him with someone else kills you, but you can’t blame him. He doesn’t know about this at all, he doesn’t know you feel like he’s been clawing at the inside of your heart, he can’t know that. You haven’t had much to drink but you feel like throwing up, the fact he’s still up there with her makes you sick.
You sit on the stairs of the apartment building and rest your head on your knees, hugging them closely to yourself. You sit there for a while, and then hear the door open.
“Oh thank god.” James says in relief from behind you. “I thought you left me.”
You don’t say anything, just you looking forward, not a peep out of you. “Hey, you okay?” He asks as he sits next to you. You slowly nod yes and he sighs. “Look at me.” You do, and he sees tear streaks that have made their way down your face. “What’s wrong?”
You take a deep breath in. “Just sad. Sorry, I probably ruined the vibe.”
“You haven’t ruined anything, but I am worried about you.” He quietly speaks. “Don’t want you to feel like you don’t belong, because you do.”
This statement makes you start to cry all over again. All you’ve wanted was for someone to say that for you, and here you are, finally being told that and you can’t even say thank you because you’re too busy crying.
He tugs you towards him so that your head lays on his shoulder and you feel at ease immediately. Doesn’t stop the tears from falling still though. He hooks his finger under your chin, pulling your face towards him and he kisses you. Plain and simple kiss, but it makes you freeze. He goes back, kisses you again but deeper this time and it takes you a second to realize what’s even happening. When you do, you melt against him, kissing him back.
He pulls away, licking his lips and grinning. “Should I take you home?”
You nod and he leads you to the car with his hand on the small of your back, opening the car door for you and you hop in. He gets in and says a quick ‘c’mere’ and he kisses you again, making your knees clamp together in desperation for him. You want him, but you don’t know if he wants you like that. You wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t, you don’t know what you're really doing anyways.
When he gets to your apartment, you casually invite him in and he accepts. Once in the elevator he grabs you gently and smashes his lips onto yours, you feel him against you and his bulge is practically breaking out of his pants. Guess your questions answered.
The elevator dings and he gives you one last kiss before exiting the elevator with you, letting you guide him to where your apartment is. You enter your apartment and he’s in awe. It’s decorated all nice and homey, he wishes his shared apartment was half as decorated as yours was.
You wrap your arms around his neck and he leans forward, giving you a slow kiss that you think will linger on your lips for months. He rests his head against yours, putting his hands on your hips and steering you backwards. The back of your knees reach the couch and you fall back on it, him following shortly after. You guys make out for a really long time while feeling each other up. He’s obsessed with squeezing your boobs, they feel so good in his hands.
What you’re obsessed with is running your hands up and down his abs and you think that he’s literally Adonis himself. Now way is a man this physically perfect, makes you feel embarrassed about how you look.
He starts to kiss the corners of your mouth and migrates down to your neck, leaving love bites everywhere. “Can we move this to my bed?” You ask breathlessly.
He hums and helps you up off the couch. He follows you closely as you go to the bedroom but not without some fun, of course. As you walk you take off your shirt, still having your back towards him, and then your bra. You throw it back at him and he catches it and holds it like it’s a grand prize.
You open your bedroom door and face him and his eyes immediately go down to your tits. He swiftly comes towards you and kisses your neck some more while he kneads your boobs in his hands. You walk backwards to your bed, switching him around and pushing him onto it. You pull your pants off and he takes this as his cue to get down to his underwear too, once you both do, you just stare at each other.
“So perfect, wow.” He says in astonishment as he reaches towards you and pulls you onto him. This man is obsessed with kissing you, like he can’t get enough, ever. He kisses you long and slow, then whispering against your mouth, “ride my face.”
Your eyes widen. “Really? But what if I hurt you?”
“You won’t.”
You tremble as you take off your panties and hover yourself on top of him, he grabs your ass and squeezes it once, letting you know he’s ready. You lower yourself just enough to where you feel like you won’t suffocate him and he goes to town.
His tongue greedily explores you, cleaning you of your arousal until all that’s left is his own saliva. You cry out when he tugs you down even further and sucks on your clit, rocking his head back and forth as he teases you. You start to grind yourself against his face and nearly topple over when his nose hits your sensitive spot over and over. It’s not even two minutes and you’re moaning his name as you come all over his tongue, to which he licks up happily of course.
He gives your pussy a final kiss and you weakly get off of him, falling back onto the bed. You hear him slip something off and you sit up to see him on his knees stroking himself. You crawl towards him and flash those pretty eyes at him and he knows what you want. You replace his hand with yours and stroke him lazily as you swirl your tongue around the tip of his dick. You take the head in your mouth and suck on it as if it were a lollipop, popping it out of your mouth, teasing him in return for earlier. He watches as a spit string connects from him to your mouth and nearly nuts right then and there. He’s still so pussy drunk he can hardly see straight.
When you take him fully into your mouth and start bobbing your head up and down his shaft, he thinks he sees stars. He grabs onto the hair at the back of your head for support as you run your tongue on the bottom of his cock, the warmth mixed with that is nearly killing him.
He’s so so close but he can’t cum in your mouth, he just can’t. He says a quick ‘off,’ and you give him a parting kiss on his tip after you pop him out of your mouth. He pushes you down and onto your back as he makes himself at home between your legs. He holds himself above you, admiring your face. “So so pretty. Thought that ever since the skatepark.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I did, minus the digicam.” He jokes.
You giggle. “Ha ha very funny.”
“I try.”
He looks between you two and at his raging boner and knows that if he’s not inside you soon he’s going to go insane. He rocks himself against you. “Let me know if at any point this is too much.” You nod quickly and he guides his tip to your entrance, circling himself around it a few times. He inserts the tip in and you whimper a little at the sharp zolts of pain you feel and he quickly stops.
“We don’t have to do this.” He reassures you as he brushes your face with the back of his fingers.
You shake your head. “No no, I want to. I want it really bad.”
He says a quick ‘okay,’ and inches in little by little, watching your face as he does so. When he does bottom out he stays like that until you’re fully relaxed around him because he’s not going until he knows you’ll feel good from this too. He tests the waters by doing a few shallow thrusts and you whimper some more, “feels good, just so big.”
You adjust yourself a little more and give him the go ahead and he gives a few more test thrusts, the feeling has you gripping his arms for support. “You okay if I go a little faster?”
You smile. “Mhm.”
He kisses you one more time and starts to fuck you nice and slow. He’s taking his time because he’s used to good things not lasting for him. Soon though, the desperation kicks in and he finds himself plowing into you, hard. You can’t help but throw your head back and moan his name like a chant over and over again. You’ll moan his name until the entire apartment complex memorizes it for all you care.
His cock ruthlessly pounds into you, hitting you so deep you feel like blacking out. He’s groaning in your ear as his hips smack into you repeatedly, making a skin slapping noise that echoes throughout your apartment. “I’m so close.” You whine.
He speeds up, fucking you harder, making you cry out as you let go all over him. A creamy ring forms around the base of his cock as he continues on until his climax hits him like a train. He paints your insides with his cum, continuing on lazily pumping himself until the mix of each others release makes noises that reverberate in your bedroom. He’s spent, hardly holding himself up as he pants into your ear, kissing your cheek as a final touch.
He lays next to you and you can’t help but let your thoughts get to you. “So, are we casual?"
It’s quiet for a minute, you not daring to say anything. “I don’t want to be casual, no.” He finally says.
“Then, what do we do now?” You ask.
“I think we have to do all that lovey dovey couple shit… I wouldn’t mind though if it was with you.”
You laugh. “Thanks, I wouldn’t either if it was with you.”
“Maybe tomorrow I can take you to the skatepark, teach you how to skate a little, nobody will be there, just us.”
“Okay.” You agree.
He wraps his arm around you and pulls you towards him, cuddling you as if you’re the only thing in the world. You don’t mind this, matter of fact you fall asleep so good you don’t wake up till one the next day. He’s still there, cuddling you, soft breaths coming from his mouth.
You finally belong, you think. Someone is finally choosing you and thank god because you need that. After everything all you’ve ever wanted is to be loved. For someone to stay. Somebody wants you here, it’s no longer pity, it’s love.
pairings: idol! james x fem!reader
genre: comfort, fluff, romance, slice of life, insecurity/comfort, established relationship, soft angst with happy ending :)
warnings: mentions of strangers flirting, jealousy, self doubt (no cheating nor love triangle), insecure reader. wc: 800 words synopsis: going out with james means constantly watching strangers try to catch his attention. but while everyone else has their eyes on him, his are only ever on you.
the first time you walked into a café holding james's hand, you understood something that no one had warned you about.
people stared.
some only glanced before going back to their drinks, but others whispered behind menus, nudging their friends and pulling out their phones to take pictures. you pretended not to notice, squeezing his hand just a bit tighter.
james looked down at you.
"you okay?"
you forced out a tiny smile. "yeah."
he smiled back, completely unaware that your confidence had already begun shrinking like a sweater thrown into hot boiling water.
dating james sounded amazing when your friends teased you about it.
"you're literally living in a romance drama."
"if only i had a boyfriend that handsome, i'd never complain about anything."
but they never had seen the awkward moments.
like girls approaching your table with you sitting right there.
like someone asking for his instagram despite the fact that his arm rested around your chair or thigh.
like hearing,
"you're james, right? gosh you're even more handsome in person."
meanwhile, you suddenly became invisible.
it had happened again while the two of you were waiting in line for ice cream.
a girl around your age walked over confidently.
"hi," she said to james. "i just wanted to say you're really cute."
you looked down at your shoes.
her we go again.
the girl continued.
"do you maybe have a girlfriend?"
silence.
you blinked.
more silence.
then james simply answered,
"yeah."
nothing else.
no smile.
no playful laugh.
no lingering eye contact.
he was looking at the menu above the counter instead.
the girl waited another few seconds.
"…oh."
then she quietly walked away.
james turned to you.
"what flavor are you getting, babe?"
"…what?"
"the strawberry cheesecake one looks good."
you stared.
"weren't you listening?"
"i was."
"she was flirting with you."
"i know."
"and?"
"and i wanted ice cream."
you couldn't help but laugh.
but still, the insecurity stayed.
it collected itself piece by piece until on rainy evening when the two of you were walking home.
your umbrella covered both of you, but your thoughts were somewhere else.
james had noticed immediately.
"you've been quiet."
"i'm just tired."
"no."
"what?"
"that's always your fake answer."
you looked away.
he stopped walking.
cars hissed past on the wet street while tiny drops tapped against the umbrella.
"what is it? what's bothering you?"
you hesitated for a second.
then everything spilled out.
"i don't get it."
"what?"
"why you're with me."
he instantly frowned.
"what do you mean by that?"
"you could date anyone."
"no."
"yes."
"no."
"james."
"no."
"you know what i mean."
he folded his arms against his chest.
"i actually don't."
you sighed.
"girls come up to you literally everywhere we go."
"so?"
"they're much more prettier."
"so?"
"they're confident."
"so?"
"they're…"
you tried searching for another excuse.
"…them."
"and?"
"and i'm just me."
for a moment, he simply stared. then he laughed. not a mean type of laugh, the kind that escaped before he could even stop it.
"you think that's how i chose you?"
"i don't know."
"you think i saw a lineup of people and said, 'hmm…i'll take this one.'"
you buried your face into your scarf.
"when you say it like that, it sounds stupid."
"it is."
he stepped closer.
"you wanna know something funny?"
"what?"
"i honestly never notice."
"what?"
"the girls."
you blinked.
"you don't?"
"i notice someone talking."
"and?"
"but i don't really look at them."
"why?"
he looked confused by your question.
"because i'm already looking at you."
the words landed so casually that they almost didn't register into your brain.
"you…"
"when we're out together, i'm wondering if you're cold."
he adjusted your scarf.
"if you've eaten."
he tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.
"if you're having the time of your life."
he reached out for your hand.
"i'm thinking about where you'd like dessert or coffee."
his fingers intertwined with yours.
"so while everyone else seems very interest in me…"
he smiled.
"…i only have eyes for you."
the world suddenly felt very quiet. even the rain had seemed more softer.
you whispered,
"that's cheesy."
"i know."
"you practiced that, didn't you?"
"i absolutely didn't."
"you did."
"i was improvising."
"you rehearsed in the mirror."
"i did not."
he sighed dramatically. "fine."
you gasped. "you did?"
"no."
"you just admitted it."
"i admitted nothing."
"you're impossible."
"and yet…"
he squeezed your hand.
"…you're still walking home with me."
you smiled for the first time all day.
"i guess i am."
he grinned.
"good."
"why?"
"because tomorrow we're going out to that bookstore."
"the crowded one?"
"yep."
"the one where people also recognize you?"
"yep."
you groaned.
he leaned closer.
"then you'll get to watch me ignore every single person that tries to flirt with me."
"and what will you be doing instead?"
james looked at you with such an unwavering certainty that it erased every doubt still hiding in your heart.
"i'll be looking at my girlfriend."
and for the first time ever since you two started dating, you believed him completely.
ᛪ༙gist: 2yul threesome. smut with somewhat of a plot (though not really).
“ohyul.” the taller of the two with black hair and bangs that falls near his eyes says. the other one, a bit shorter with black hair and tipped blonde highlights adds, “ryul.”
you nod to acknowledge them both. the liquid courage you had earlier now sizzles dimly in the pit of your stomach. “are you boys siblings?”
ohyul, with a mischievous smirk says “nah, we cousins.”
ryul watches the way your eyes widen in obvious shock. your fingers drum uncomfortably over each other. “don’t believe this idiot. we’re just friends. no blood relations.”
is this even better?
you’re not sure.
ryul's more perceptive than ohyul seems to be. at least when it comes to the things he wants.
he leans towards your space, sees you fidget with the last tab of your bra and removes it with ease. ohyul doesn’t seem to even glance your way. comfortably removing his own clothing like he’s not undressing with a stranger (you) and his friend inside a room.
“we can stop at anytime.” ryul gazes in your direction. you swipe your palms down your naked thighs. nervous, slightly self conscious, but honestly thrilled for whatever the hell this is going to be.
they're the hottest boys you’ve seen.
ohyul scoffs, leans near the wall. they’re both too comfortable being stark naked in front of you. like they’ve done this before. and you’re just the stand in factor. “can’t you see she’s eye fucking us both. she clearly wants this. maybe a little shy.”
ryul stares at you, measuring your reaction. “still i’d prefer a clear consent before we start.” he steps closer. “so what is it?”
your throat feels tight. there’s something magnetic about the way they’re both looking at you. ohyul with a smug smirk toying at the corners of his lips, and ryul with the kind of patience you don’t expect from someone you just met for the first time ever.
you swallow, swipe your palms down your thighs one last time and exhale a shaky breath. “yeah. i want this.”
ohyul lets out a loud whistle. “hell yeah.”
ryul gives you a smile and you feel like you’ll melt. “awesome.” he leans even closer. grabs you by the waist as he leads you to the bed.
his hands push the blankets aside.
this isn’t even his room. nor his home where the party still raves loud downstairs. but he navigates the bed like its his own.
he lays you on your back. while ohyul watches with intense focus. you adjust to the bed, eyes round, looking up to where he stands.
ryul moves closer to where your head is, perched peacefully on the pillow he's put under you.
ohyul exhales through his nose, sharply. you turn your head to catch the way he's biting his lower lip.
god he’s hot. plump lips, that look utterly soft. you can't wait to kiss him.
ryul’s fingers trace the curve of your jaw, tilting your chin towards him. “eyes on me,” he instructs, though the smirk tugging at his mouth shows he's not minding you being distracted.
his thumb brushes your bottom lip as his hips nears your mouth, guiding himself to you. “open up, sweetheart.” ryul instructs softly.
the command sends heat pooling down your thighs.
it’s the excessive sweetness that doesn’t sound mocking. the way his grin grows when he says ‘sweetheart’ that makes you crumble.
pathetic. you’re easy.
but your lips part instinctively, and the first brush of him against your tongue tastes salty and faintly sweet. you’re careful not to let your teeth graze his cock. you’ve done this before. this isn’t your first rodeo.
yet you want to perform better than you’ve ever done before. to please these two random guys you let all control fly for.
ohyul clears his throat. his hand works himself as he moves towards you on the bed. his fingers grips your thighs bluntly. “don’t hog her all to yourself man.” he looks at you currently preoccupied with ryul’s dick in your mouth.
ryul’s hips jerk forward almost involuntarily and you swear you taste the sharp gasp he tries to swallow as you hollow out your mouth. taking him further. your lips rotating around his cock.
ohyul’s grip on your thighs, tightens “well, damn” he mutters more to himself than to anyone else.
his fingers rough as he enters your pussy. no warning, no are you ready. he’s not gonna be as gentle as ryul. not when ryul is face fucking you and he’s waiting like some sidekick loser, getting himself off.
how dreadfully boring.
“ohyul" you moan . voice overwhelmed with his fingers suddenly inside you. it sounds awkwardly muffled, with ryul’s cock covering most of your mouth that you can barely speak.
ohyul’s eyes darken as they trace every twitch of your body as his fingers take alternate turns in you. he doesn't dignify you with a response.
ryul grips your chin, redirecting your focus. “relax, sweetheart. exhale through your nose.”
you do as your told.
ryul pulls back just enough to let you gasp, his cock glistening with your spit. “good girl,” he coos and the praise coils tight in your stomach.
maybe you have a praise kink. because it does something to you. you take your free hand pushing him further back into your mouth with no hesitation. swallowing more of him until you feel the shaft.
you suck harder, faster.
ohyul chuckles low in his throat. "she’s greedy," he observes, dragging his free hand up your stomach to pinch your nipple, just to watch you jolt. "look at her. already addicted." you whimper around ryul’s cock, but neither of them let up. ryul pets your hair almost apologetically, even as he nudges your head back to take him deeper.
which you do. disgustingly deep that you hope you don’t gag.
"shit, y/n. i think im gonna c" ryul starts. his entire frame shakes. he cant even finish his sentence before he releases all over your mouth. your tongue is hit with his cum. so much so that it drips out. some landing on your chin and the rest splattering on your chest.
you close your eyes instinctively. nothing’s hot about cum in your eyes. it hurts and its sticky.
uncomfortably sticky.
ohyul exhales shakily, even as his fingers go deeper. hitting your cunt. you’d think it's his dick that you're sucking up with the way his chest heaves.
ryul shoots you an apologetic smile. his fingers wipe the pool of sweat trailing your hairline. "sorry, princess. didn't mean to do that." you swallow around his dick, your lips swollen and glistening.
ohyul tsks, rolling his eyes. "don't apologize, dude. look at her she enjoys it." his eyes follow where the excess cum and spit linger near your lips. "I know her type. girls like her to pretend to be shy but are secretly sluts." ohyul's thumb presses harder against your clit. as if punishing you for ryul's kindness.
you whimper, arching into the pressure, torn between the sharp sting of his words and the undeniable thrill they send down your spine.
ryul’s fingers still cradle your jaw, wiping away your spit or his cum. you're not sure which. they blend together seamlessly. his touch incredibly gentle against the rough scrape of ohyul’s long digits between your thighs. he frowns. his hands still against your jaw. "be gentle." he mutters.
ohyul scoffs.
gentle?
that's too vanilla for his liking. he's not relenting, his fingers picks up speed, and your body trembles uncomfortably. you're at a loss of words. the pleasure overwhelming. all you can utter is incoherent blubbers that don't make sense.
ohyul's tortuous pace doesn't falter. his grin cheshire wide. fingers curling deeper inside you. hotter, faster. you hear the slickness of your arousal, the sound wet as ohyul hits a spot that makes your hips jerk.
it's not until you feel liquid trail down your thighs that ohyul slows his pace just down enough to let you catch your breath.
his eyes scans your frame. "such a fucking mess already. can't event keep it together when i haven't even done much", he comments cockily.
ryul exhales sharply through his nose, but before he can retort, ohyul’s already pressing forward, crowding you deeper into the mattress. his knee nudges your thighs apart, and you don’t resist.
can’t, really, not when your body’s still humming from his fingers.
"she's fine," ohyul drawls, his dick touches your thigh as he frames himself over your hips.. "she can take more."
though ohyul could not care less even if you couldn't.
he's a bit selfish. a bit rough. you'll be fine.
ohyul's fingers dig into your hips, lifting enough just to align near your entrance. "ready", he murmurs. the closet to softness he's shown so far.
you barely nod before he thrusts in.
"tight," ohyul mutters, hips rolling in a way that makes your toes curl. "bet ryul’s jealous as hell right now." his fingers tighten on your waist, pulling you harder against him, and you gasp at the sudden fullness.
ryul's on the right side of your body. his lips parts slightly as he strokes himself lazily. "jealous?" he echoes, dragging his thumb over the head of his cock. "nah. just appreciating the view."
ohyul laughs dryly.
you dig your nails into his shoulders. partly out of spite. and partly because he's hitting all the right spots.
he pants, but he doesn’t argue further, too focused on the way your body clenches around him.
on the way one of your hands reach down to his ass, pulling him deeper.
you want more of him.
"that’s it," he growls, his fingers bruising against your skin. "take it. i know you can ."
ohyul's meaner than ryul.
there's no softness. no gentleness in his words. even the tone he uses on you isn't as delicate.
you'd frown if you could. if ohyul was awful. if you weren't getting some machoistic pleasure from his aggressive hands on your hips and his cock hitting your walls. ohyul reaches for your throat but gets stopped by ryul. "nah, man. "
you want to turn your head. to see the exact expression on ryul's face. but you can't . your lips parts. you bite down on your tongue to suppress a moan that's bubbling to the top.
a weak act of dominance on your part.
ohyul’s smirk widens at ryul’s intervention, but he doesn’t argue—just shifts his grip to your hair instead, yanking your head to the left for you to get a better view of him.
and only him.
you're forced to meet his gaze. "aht, aht" he orders, "it's my turn now." his hips snap forward again, deeper this time, and you choke out a sound.
ohyul eats it up gladly. his mouth on yours.
you can't even call it a kiss. it's hunger. brutal. teeth catching your bottom lip and you groan into it.
ohyul's hands are everywhere. your thighs. your waist. none of it gentle. his lips drag from your mouth to your jaw, biting down just hard enough to sting and you gasp. you clench involuntarily against his cock.
you swear you see ryul grimace. but you can't be sure. it's a split second view from the periphery of your eyes. vision mostly bound on ohyul to be sure if you even seen what you think you do.
ohyul's view of ryul's clenching jaw is clearer than yours. he notes it for future reference.
from all the times they've done this. ryul's never reacted this obvious.
interesting.
ryul exhales sharply through his nose, fingers twitching where they rest against his the mattress. "you’re gonna bruise her," he warns.
ohyul pauses mid-thrust just to sneer at him. he has no intention of stopping.
"so?" he nips your ears.. blunt teeth scraping skin. "she likes it. don't you?" he looks down at you. cocky as ever. and thrusts once more, harder than before.
you gasp, thighs trembling, friction burning deliciously, and you can’t help but rock against him, chasing the sensation. your body craving the rough treatment.
ryul shifts closer on the bed, his fingers trailing down your arm in contrast to ohyul’s rough grip. his touch is featherlight, a whisper against your oversensitive skin. "you’re doing so good, his thumb brushes your bottom lip where ohyul has bitten it.
you don't even have time to react. to acknowledge what sounds like fondness in his words. your pussy suddenly empty as ohyul pulls out of you roughly.
he squeezes his cock as white liquid pours all over your stomach. "shit."
you didn't even get to cum …
okay you have when ohyul fingered you. but that was different. that was quick. and now you're left unsatisfied. your thighs still tremble, your pussy still throbs, and the sticky mess on your stomach is just a reminder of how unfair this is.
ohyul collapses beside you with a groan, wiping his hands on the sheets without a second thought. his chest rises and falls rapidly, but his smirk remains unabashedly intact.
"damn," he breathes, rolling his head to look at you. "thought i'd last longer than that."
ryul wants to throttle ohyul. on your behalf or his. he's not sure yet "fucker".
your thighs press together like you're still chasing friction, still chasing him.
you internally echo that sentiment, 'fucker'.
yeah that's exactly what ohyul is.
꧁⠀⠀ ໋•̩̩͙⠀⠀
❀an: i've never ever written a 3 some before. this was hard. sorry if sucks , omg.
rb cause im reading this later @gottareadthis - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
