Gojo likes playing coy, acting like he doesn't absolutely love the attention you're giving him, even though you already know he'd get on his knees for you whenever and wherever you'd ask him to. The thing about Gojo is, he never gets tired of the attention.
So when he was in his room, fresh out of the shower, getting ready to go to bed, and heard his phone notification go off, he smiled to himself through the mirror. He knew exactly who it was. It was none other than you, texting him, asking him if he was still up. He smiled, texting you back, but not after making you wait a little.
I'm not one of your little home boys, he answered. He didn't need you texting him like he was some booty call of yours. If you wanted him, you had to earn him by treating him right. Making him feel like he was on top of the world.
But you did no such thing, sending him the eye-roll emoji right after. Then, he put his phone away, ignoring your subsequent messages. The sound of your notifications hitting his phone was like music to his ears. Then, when he was just about done with his skincare routine, you called him.
His phone buzzed against a cupboard. Before picking up, he cleared his throat, wiping the smile off his face. "What do you want?" Trying to sound as annoyed as he possibly could, he left the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
It was quiet at the other end of the phone before you let out a sigh. "Come downstairs."
"Girl, I just took a shower, no." He couldn't hide his grin anymore. There was no way you had actually made your way to him because you wanted to see him. Did you miss him that badly?
''Shit,'' you whispered on the other end. ''That's even better.''
He was so close to letting out a giggle but was able to mask it with a cough. Oh, she wants me so badly, he thought to himself. It would be cruel to let you sit out there in your car. It'd be even worse to make you drive all the way back to your place. So he faked an annoyed groan you identified as fake immediately, telling you he'd be with you in two minutes.
And you waited, fingers tapping against your steering wheel, checking your phone for any new messages. Finally, he stepped out the door, inthose little shorts that left nothing to your imagination. He got into your car, trying to suppress a grin. You stared at him, licking your lips while mustering him up and down.
''What are you wearing those little shorts for?''
The temperature within the car started to rise. And the way you looked at him, like a tiger eyeing it's prey, was doing this to him. Bad things. Maybe good things? He didn't know whether what you were making him feel was good or bad. So he did the only right thing, covering his face to let out a nervous laugh. ''Calm down, stupid. I just grabbed them quickly to come and see you. We're just chilling after all, right?''
The suggestiveness in his voice would be the death of you. Your breath hitched, staring at those beautiful blue eyes of his. ''Right.'' You muttered in a daze.
So you started the car, and you spent a few minutes just cruising around. At first, it was quiet. With the tension simmering in the car, it was hard for him to even breathe. He felt like you could hear his heart beat out of your chest. But then, he started talking, all sweet, telling you about his day.
And you couldn't concentrate. How was he so cute and sexy at the same time? The way he was talking, his voice, him in general. You wanted to devour him. So you brought the car to a halt in the middle of his sentence. He stared at you, raising an eyebrow in confusion.
Before he could say anything, you started. ''Now you're trying to act all sweet, huh?''
He smiled, shrugging his shoulders.
You turned off the engine of the car, pulling out the keys as he watched you expectantly. ''Get your ass in the backseat.'' You muttered, stepping out of the vehicle.
And who was he to say no to that?
Yes, Gojo was stubborn and loved acting like a brat. But he wasn't stupid. And when he noticed he had you wrapped around his finger, he could finally give in to you.
milf!reader and yuta… someone’s 25 year old son who wants that milf cookie so bad .ᐟ mdni 18+
𝜗𝜚 milf!reader, reader has a son, divorced!reader, 7 year age gap, pussy eating, virgin!yuta, grad student!yuta, obsessed!yuta, sub!yuta, begging, he whimpers, he cums in his pants, power imbalance, professor!reader, crazy first post
grad student!yuta who would simply do anything for his favourite professor. and he's always been your best student; observant, quiet, polite and always seeking feedback. so him popping by your office or finding you after class is nothing new.
grad student!yuta who notices the stress after your divorce, the slight tiredness in your voice, the baby hairs and flyaways that frame your face after you've run your hand through your hair for the nth time. and of course your son, who stays glued to your side or occupies himself with a colouring book under your desk.
grad student!yuta who is just helping when he pops by your office to help you grade papers for one of your other classes. just helping when he sits with your son on the floor while you work late into the night. just helping when he carries your sleeping son to your car, fastening him in his car seat in the back. and of course, just helping when he gives you his personal number, insisting it's just in case you need a babysitter on short notice or more help with grading papers... because he can only imagine how much stress you're dealing with :(
you, now a single mother... though, you've been raising your year old son on your own since he was born; the divorce was just waiting to happen.
and you, who knows exactly what yuta okkotsu is getting at when he just drops by your office, or asks how you're doing after almost every class, who gave you his personal number as if that didn't come with a million implications. he's a smart guy; but you're smarter.
grad student!yuta who texts you asking if he can drop by your office for some assistance with his TA work, because why would he ask anyone else when he can ask you?
and you, who is not in the office that day... and yuta knows that.
and you know it's a bad idea when you text him back, sending him a ping of your address and telling him– 'i'm not in the office today, but come by here at 6, yeah?'
grad student!yuta who is wracked with nerves when you open your front door, hair loose, wearing denim shorts and a lace cami and nursing a glass of red wine.
grad student!yuta who is so sure he's never been this hard in his life–
and you, who asks him, "did you want a glass?" gesturing with your wine glass vaguely.
"uh–"
"wait, you're old enough, right?"
"i'm 25."
fuck, this is just a terrible idea.
grad student!yuta who can't stop staring at you when you tie your hair up and your glasses are perched on the edge of your nose as you look over his notes. and he's not listening to a damn word you're saying.
and it's innocent when you grab his shoulder, leaning over the corner of the dining table to point out a paragraph he could edit. but he's not listening. his eyes are glued to the way your tits press together as you lean over, how the strap of your cami has just slightly dropped off your shoulder, how his dick hardens more when you hook one of your legs over the other, your bare foot brushing the inside of his calf under the table.
grad student!yuta whose breath catches in his throat, fist clenching atop his thigh while you talk, tired eyes so wide with feigned innocence.
"you okay, yuta?" your lips part just slightly, stained a little red from the wine and the ultimate object of yuta's desires right now.
grad student!yuta who has a surge of courage amidst the silence; falling victim to your pretty eyes and the way you bat your lashes so innocently as if you don't know exactly what you're doing inviting him into your home.
grad student!yuta whose large hands twitch in his lap as he pushes forward, capturing your wine-bitter lips in a chaste kiss. it lasts barely a second and his cheeks and ears are blooming with red when he pulls away.
"i-i'm so sorry– shit– i-i didn't mean–"
and you attempt and fail to fight off a smile, "you got a little crush on me, yuta?"
and yuta breathes hard, "...with all due respect, ma'am, i don't know of a single student in your class who doesn't."
and you hum, amused, ego a little (very) stroked, "mm... luck you then, hm?"
grad student!yuta who holds your hips down against the dining table with shaky hands; body rampant with nerves, arousal and adrenaline. your lips are driving him crazy; open-mouthed kisses against his jaw, tongue slipping in his mouth and swallowing every whimper and whine that leaves that pretty, unmarked throat.
grad student!yuta who feels hot all over, hands pinning your hips to the table to keep you from grinding your clothed cunt against the bulge in his jeans. because if you do, he's gonna cum.
grad student!yuta who can't help but whimper when you lean back, peeling your cami off your body, exposing your pretty lacy bra that you totally didn't dig out of the bottom of your closet just in case.
your lips are on his, fingers tugging at the hair on the back of his head. your free hand drops to his at your hip, tugging on his wrist and cupping it over your soft tit.
"scared to touch me?"
"no– fuck– i'm just–" his hand moves to the clasp at your back, desperate to taste the skin your bra is hiding.
grad student!yuta who has never had the pleasure of unclasping a bra, who has to peer over your shoulder while you suck and bite at his throat.
"fuck."
you smile against his skin, "need some help there?"
grad student!yuta who nearly creams his pants at the sight of your tits, so full and round and right there–
your thighs clamp around his hips, his mouth panting and salivating before he tastes the sweat on your skin, tongue draaagging up your breast and flicking over the hardness of your nipple.
they hadn't been sensitive before you had your son. but now–
"mm– fuck, yuta–"
you press your hips into his, rolling and grinding your cunt against his cock straaaining in his jeans. your panties are almost soaked through and every nudge and griiiind of your hips rolls your throbbing clit against the slick fabric.
grad student!yuta who can't think straight as you roll yourself against his cock, heat pooling in his stomach so painfully.
grad student!yuta who whimpers at every tug of your fingers in his hair, face hot and flushed as he licks, rolls and sucks on the prettiest tits he's ever seen in his life.
grad student!yuta who tries desperately to recall anything he's learned from porn to try and impress you, to make you want to do this again.
grad student!yuta who–
"f-fuck– ngh"
–just can't stop himself from cumming in his pants from humping against your shorts and squeezing your tits in his palms. hot ropes of sticky cum pool in his jeans and he feels utterly humiliated.
"haah– i-i'm so sorry."
sweat beads down his forehead, hair sticking to his skin as he looks up at you with those adorable, tired eyes. his hands cling to your hips, holding your clothed cunt flush against his pulsing cock.
you can see the slight wet patch in the fabric, the slight twitch of his poor cock in his boxers.
"s'okay, sweetheart," you pet his hair, hand resting against his throat.
his eyes are pressed closed, his senses overwhelmed as he attempts to shake off the tingling of his high.
"why don't i get you some water, hm?"
"b-but what about you?"
you press a peck to his cheek, "s'okay, i had fun."
"i–" his tongue darts out to wet his chapped lips, "i could–"
you tilt your head slightly to the side, stroking the clumped strands of sweaty hair off his forehead.
his voice is low and his breath shudders, "i wanna eat your pussy."
it's meant to be a question but the way he asks? it's like he's begging.
"...you wanna do that?"
yuta's brows furrow, a heavy breath forced out of his lungs as he simply beeeegs– "please."
and who are you to deny a starving man?
grad student!yuta who sinks to his knees like it's the most natural thing in the world. like he's meant to be between your warm thighs with his nose nudging at your clit through your shorts and inhaling–
"smell s'good," he whines, fingers curling into your shorts and panties and tugging them down in one, albeit awkward, motion.
grad student!yuta whose mouth waters at the sight of your glistening pussy, positively dying at the thought of tasting you, of having the sweetness and musk of your slick linger on his tongue for days; dying at the thought of making you cum.
grad student!yuta who makes out with your pussy like he did with your tits, revelling in the sweet noise of pleasure you let out as he presses the flat of his tongue over your hole.
grad student!yuta who lets you guide him exactly where you need him–
"f-fuck– right, there– yes–"
grad student!yuta who rolls your clit with the tip of his tongue, forcing you further onto your back as his hands dig into your thighs, prying them further apart so he can fuck his tongue into you.
grad student!yuta whose cock twitches in his pants, painfully hard and untouched yet completely overstimulated.
grad student!yuta who wants to please you so badly. he listens to every nudge and guide of your hand and hips. attention pricking at the sound of your moans catching in your throat and the feeling of your thighs tensing under his hands.
"s'good, yuta– ngh"
grad student!yuta who is nearly frightened out of his skin by the sound of your phone vibrating on the table.
you peer over, scoff at the caller ID of your ex-husband and ignore it, fingers tensing in yuta's hair and forcing his mouth against your cunt.
your phone buzzes again... and again... and again before you finally answer.
"hello?" your teeth sink into your bottom lip.
"sato's got a fever–"
"well did you give him medicine?"
"no, i don't have any–"
you bite back a moan as yuta spreeeaads your folds apart to suck on your swollen clit.
"i always pack some in his bag– fuck."
"are you on a run right now?"
the air is forced out of your chest when yuta's tongue prods at your clenching hole–
"no– fuck me– can you do anything without having to call me– ngh"
"...are you having sex right now?!"
"no–"
yuta's fingers curl around your phone and tug it out of your grasp. his mouth is glistening with your juices, cheeks flushed pink and he has a pussywhipped look his eye.
"she'll call you back."
𝜗𝜚 a/n: hope you like!!! i'm such a choso, megumi, gojo girlie and i wrote for yutttaaa fiiiiirst??? anyway :3 likes, reblogs and comments are much appreciated!!!
Dom!reader x sub!character (reader is hinted to have a cock)
My oral fixation is killing me, so, a fic about eating a cute guy out after cumming inside him <3
There he was, sprayed out on your bed like a five course meal, chest heaving and body all pliant after you wrung him dry. He could barely move anymore, tears-filled eyes staring at you with a mix of arousal and satisfaction.
Your release was dripping out of him slowly, adding onto the mess beneath his milky thighs. His hole was glistening and all red and swollen, looking so abused by now. You were quite rough with him after all. With a view like this, you simply couldn’t help but want to devour him. He gasped when you positioned yourself between his legs again, pleasantly surprised when you began kissing his soiled inner thighs. It tickled, and he squirmed slightly when you inched closer to his more sensitive parts.
The small gasps soon turned into full on moans as you ate him out, his fingers tangled in your hair, not sure if he wanted to grind himself back against you or pull away. He could feel you lapping up the cum filling him from the inside, the warm and wet muscle teasing his soft walls. Having to endure this kind of stimulation right after you made him cum so many times was so cruel of you…! You really didn’t want to let him catch his breath, huh? And damn that skilled tongue of yours, teasing him so deliciously, making him arch his back and blush.
It took no time until you wrung another orgasm out of him. His high came crashing down so abruptly and quick, it was almost embarrassing, he was just still so sensitive from getting fucked stupid. Now his insides were tingling with residual pleasure again, fresh slick running between his thighs. A sharp cry escaped him once you pulled back, his hands now clenching the sheets as the last shudders coursed through him. “Nghh.. y-you can’t just… ahhNhGg ♥︎♡♡ do that r-right after, ah-ahHh..?! after s-stuffing me full and having your way with me…!!”
Look at him, he was pouting now, complaining when you both knew how much he enjoyed being overstimulated. With that being said, you kissed him deeply, making him taste your cum. He pulled a light grimace, but you saw how his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed everything you gave him. “Quite obedient for such a fierce expression.” You hummed much to his annoyance, before flipping him onto his stomach, hands roaming down to his hips, digging into his skin, “ready for another round?”
He glanced at you over his shoulder, his expression a mix of disbelief and reluctant arousal. A shrill yelp slipped past his tightly shut lips when you bottomed out in one thrust, stretching him out on your cock once more. The feeling of you nestled so deep inside him almost pushed him over the edge yet again, and he whined out a weak protest, “Ahhh-hNghh, n-not againnn ♡♥︎ mmhHmm, a break, m’need a breaAak~”
You only smirked to yourself and snapped your hips against his even harder, causing him to cry out at how good it was. He grinned sheepishly, a dumb, stupid expression, before he scoffed at you, “pervert… nghh♡ w-what was the damn point…? Hngh-haaaAHh~~ licking me clean only to defile me right after~ ♥︎”
─── TO MY OFFICE, MR.KIM! ⸝⸝ ✶
contains ⇢ smut sub!taehyung office setting ceo!reader office sex nerdy!taehyung bondage kink assistant!taehyung sex on a desk slightly suggesting that people hear them reverse cowgirl requested by @rpwprpwprpwprw ! (2.8k)
The silence after the call doesn’t feel like relief, not at all really. If anything it feels like pressure, pressing against your ribs as though the room itself is holding its breath. Your office, all glass and steel and quiet power, seems sharper now, every edge catching the remnants of your irritation. The city stretches beneath you in clean lines and distant noise, but up here, it’s just you and the echo of a conversation that tested your patience one second too long. Your fingers tap once against the polished desk, slowly, as if you're thinking. Tap tap tap.
You reach for the intercom, deciding you've waited long enough. “Send Mr. Kim in. Now.” You tell your receptionist, Gael. Your voice doesn’t rise. It doesn’t need to. It carries something colder, and when you release the button, you lean back in your chair, exhaling through your nose as you roll the tension from your shoulders. There’s a flicker of anticipation threading through the irritation now, something darker, steadier— like the moment before a storm breaks.
The door opens quicker than expected. He doesn’t so much enter as stumble— just slightly, just enough for you to notice. Kim Taehyung. Always a little too careful, a little too eager to do everything right, and somehow still managing to trip over the edges of his own nerves. His glasses sit a little crooked on his nose, his tie not quite as straight as it was this morning, and there’s a flush high on his cheeks like he rushed here the second he was called.
It’s…endearing.
Dangerously so.
Your gaze drags over him slowly, taking in every detail the way a predator might study something small and soft and entirely within reach. He notices— it’s impossible not to, and the way his shoulders square is almost instinctive, like he’s trying to brace himself. “Y-You called for me?” he asks, voice gentle, just shy of steady.
You don’t answer right away. Instead, you let the silence stretch, let it wrap around him until he shifts where he stands, fingers tightening around the papers he’s still holding. He’s always been perceptive— too perceptive for his own good, and it doesn’t take long for him to read the room, to read you. His eyes flicker, just briefly, searching your expression, catching on the tension you haven’t quite hidden.
“…You’re upset,” he murmurs, softer now, like he’s stepping into something fragile.
That almost makes you smile.
You tilt your head slightly, resting your elbow against the arm of your chair, fingers brushing against your temple as you study him. “Am I?”
He swallows.
It’s subtle, but you see it; the way his throat moves, the way his posture shifts from professional to something far more familiar. The line between the two has always been thin with him. Too thin. “Yes,” he says after a moment, quieter now, but certain. “I can tell.”
Of course he can.
You lean forward then, the movement enough to pull his attention entirely, to make him straighten just a fraction more, like he’s waiting for instructions. The irritation from earlier hasn’t disappeared, it’s still there, simmering beneath your skin— but now it has direction, a focus.
Him.
“And what do you think you should do about that, Mr. Kim?” you ask, voice low and measured, carrying just enough weight to make his breath hitch.
The papers in his hands lower, forgotten.
For a second, he hesitates, not because he doesn’t understand, but because he does. Because he knows exactly what you’re asking, even if you haven’t said it outright. His lashes dip, his gaze falling somewhere just short of your eyes, like meeting them directly would be too much, too revealing. “I…” He exhales softly, steadying himself. “Whatever you need.”
Your lips curve, slow and sharp, something predatory settling into the edges of your expression as you watch him stand there, nervous, obedient, already leaning toward you without taking a single step.
A shark, circling.
You rise without hurry, the quiet click of your heels against the floor cutting through the room like a measured heartbeat. His eyes follow you the entire time, wide and uncertain. You don’t speak as you round the desk, not yet. You let the silence do the work, let it stretch and tighten until it wraps around his throat in a way your hands haven’t even touched yet.
He shifts when you get close, just slightly, just enough to betray him.
Cute.
Your hand lifts, fingers brushing the front of his tie, straightening it in a gesture that could almost be mistaken for something gentle. Almost. But then your grip tightens, slow and certain, and you tug him forward just enough to pull a soft, startled breath from his lips. “There you are,” you murmur, voice quieter now, but heavier.
Taehyung’s breath stutters, his hands hovering awkwardly at his sides, unsure where to land, what he’s allowed to do. His glasses slip just a fraction down his nose again, and he doesn’t fix them this time. He’s too focused on you. On the way you’re holding him. On the way you’re looking at him. Your eyes glazed, your lips red and plump.
“You always look at me like that when you’re upset,” he says softly, almost like he’s thinking out loud, like he can’t help himself.
Your thumb presses lightly against the knot of his tie, tilting his chin up just enough to make him meet your eyes fully. “And you always notice,” you reply.
A beat passes. “Lock the door.” You tell him, your voice harshened slighly.
He doesn’t hesitate.
He never does.
The moment you release his tie, he steps back, just enough to turn. There’s a faint click as the lock slides into place, a small, final sound that seems to echo louder than it should in the quiet.
When he turns back to you, something has shifted. He waiting, for you.
You don’t make him wait long. Crossing the space between you again, you take hold of his tie once more, firmer this time, guiding rather than pulling— though the line between the two blurs easily. He follows without resistance, steps faltering just slightly as you lead him backward toward the desk, toward the place where control always seems to settle most naturally in your hands.
The edge of the desk presses against the back of his thighs, stopping him. He inhales sharply but you don’t let go. Instead, you lean in, just enough for your presence to crowd his space, to make it impossible for him to focus on anything but you— the tension still lingering in your body, the quiet authority in your voice, the way your fingers tighten just slightly against the fabric at his throat.
“Sit,” you tell him, soft, but not optional.
And he does.
Of course he does.
He lowers himself onto the desk with a careful sort of obedience. His knees part just slightly without being told, like his body already understands the shape of what you want from him before you even have to say it. His gaze flickers up to yours again, searching, steady despite the flush creeping across his skin. “What do you want me to do?” he asks, barely above a whisper now.
And the way he says it, open, willing, yours to decide, feels like the final thread snapping into place. Your hand lifts, brushing lightly along his jaw, deceptively soft. “You’ll find out,” you murmur. But your grip on him never loosens.
Your fingers return to his tie, but this time there’s no pretense of straightening it. You slide the fabric loose with slow precision, tugging it free from the collar he had so neatly fixed this morning, unraveling him piece by piece while his breath catches in soft, uneven intervals.
He watches you. His eyes track every movement, every inch of silk slipping through your fingers. There’s a flicker of surprise when the tie comes free completely, when it no longer belongs to him but rests entirely in your grasp. Even now, even after all the times you’ve stood exactly like this, he still reacts like it’s new. Like it’s something that startles him in the best, most dangerous way.
His lips part slightly, a quiet inhale catching in his chest as you let the tie drag lightly across his shoulder, down his arm, teasing the moment out just a little longer. He swallows, throat bare now, more exposed than before, and the vulnerability of it settles over him in a way that makes his posture shift, makes his hands twitch like he doesn’t quite know what to do with them anymore.
“Hands,” you say softly.
He hesitates— only for a heartbeat.
Then he obeys. Lifting them, placing them where you want without needing to be guided, wrists settling against the edge of the desk as if he already knows what comes next. That’s the thing about Taehyung, he learns you quickly, memorizes you in ways that make this all too easy, too natural. And yet, the nervousness never fully leaves him. It lingers in the way his fingers curl slightly, in the way his gaze flickers between your hands and your face.
You step closer and the tie slides around his wrists, the fabric soft but the intention behind it anything but. You take your time, looping it once, twice— tight enough to hold, loose enough not to hurt. Controlled. Measured. Exactly the way you like it. His breath stutters when the knot pulls snug.
Your hand trails up from his wrists slowly, following the line of his arm until your fingers rest just beneath his chin, tilting his face up again so he has no choice but to look at you fully. He shifts slightly against the desk, testing the restraint without really trying to escape it, like he just needs to feel it there. The fabric holds. “What now?” he asks, voice quieter than before, threaded with anticipation that he doesn’t even try to hide.
You don't answer, instead your hands find the belt around his hips, tugging it off in one fell swoop, pushing his pants down with a hurriedness that could only come from the frustration of your work, and the ever growing need to be satisfied.
You decide to waste no time, your gaze lingers on him for a moment longer, drinking in the way he sits there, wrists bound in soft silk, chest rising and falling just a little too quickly, eyes fixed on you like you’re the only thing anchoring him in place. There’s something almost reverent in it, the way he waits, the way he offers himself to whatever you decide next.
So, you turn. You shift your body, the quiet sweep of your movement as you step away from him, giving him nothing but your back now. The distance isn’t far, barely an inch— if even that. You can feel his gaze on you, hear the sound of his heavy breaths as you circle your ass over his hard-on. His dick standing tall, needing little to no stimulation to have him keening.
"Oh fuck." He whispers, as you lift your skirt, your thin white panties now bold to his eyes. The tension in the room doesn’t loosen— it sharpens, stretches thinner, like a wire pulled taut between you.
"Sit on it." He says— whines. But you don't take kindly to his demands.
"Who are you to give me instructions, Mr.Kim." You tsk, halting your slow circles on him.
"I'm sorry." He's voice comes out in a hurry as if he's scared you'll stop completely.
“Good boys don’t rush,” you murmur. You tilt your head slightly, glancing back at him over your shoulder, your gaze catching his instantly. He looks… undone, in the smallest, most controlled ways. Lips parted, eyes a little unfocused, glasses still slightly crooked like he’s forgotten they exist. His hands remain exactly where you left them, even though the tension in his arms tells you he’s aware of every second they stay bound.
You lift slightly, fisting his thick cock in your hand, tapping the head against your clit before finally allowing yourself to sink down. The stretch of his cock is almost too overwhelming, your fingers finding purchase against the wood behind you. Knuckles turning white. Taehyung struggles a stuttering breathe, but he lets you move at your own pace.
"Feels so good." You hiss, moving your ass up and down his length, slowly, teasingly.
He grunts, "You're so tight." the rattle of his hands lifting slightly from the desk is drowned out by the smack of your skin against his. Taehyung was struggling against the restraints of the tie wrapped tightly around his wrists.
"Yeah?" You ask, faux innocence coating your words, dripping down and furthering your arousal.
"Y—Yeah." He stutters, his hips moving up slightly but you don't stop him, basking in the push of his cock deeper into you. "Best fucking pussy i've ever had,"
"Fuck." The word tumbles from your lips in a whine, but you don't give up your dominance. You don't even falter, only moving quicker smacking against his thighs fervently. "Fuck fuck fuck." The chant on your lips loud enough to alert the entire office. But You cared none, you owned the place for gods sake, if you wanted to fuck your assistant you were free to do so.
Taehyung's groans grew in tandem with your moaning, your voices mingling together. "I'm going to cum." His breathe came out in pants. You nod along words failing you as your end neared, every ounce of stress from earlier call washing away as the pleasure built then burst from your veins, traveling down your spine and into your toes, curling.
"Oh my fu—" The words fail you, a wail tumbling out as Taehyung follows suit, spilling deep inside of you with a whine.
You pull away from him, your gaze drifts to his hands, still bound at the edge of the desk, the tie slightly loosened from where it had been before, the fabric creased and warm from where it held him in place. You reach for it.
Your fingers move slower this time, careful as you begin to undo the knot, easing the fabric free inch by inch. The tension in his arms is still there, faint but present, like his body hasn’t quite caught up to the fact that he doesn’t have to hold himself so still anymore.
For a second, he doesn’t move.
His hands stay exactly where they were, like he’s waiting for permission even now, like the shape of your control still lingers in the space between you. His breathing is softer than before, but no less noticeable, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that hasn’t quite settled yet.
You glance up at him.
“Go on,” you murmur quietly.
That’s all it takes for his hands to finally shift, slowly at first, like he’s reacquainting himself with the freedom of it, fingers flexing as he lowers them from the desk. There’s a faint flush still lingering across his skin, his glasses still slightly crooked, his hair just a little more undone than when he first walked in.
His gaze lifts to yours again, searching
Like he always does after, like he needs to see you, to ground himself in something familiar again.
“You okay?” he asks, voice quiet, a little rough around the edges.
The question is gentle. “I’m fine,” you answer, softer than before.
"You?” He nods almost immediately.
“Yeah,” he says, a small breath of a laugh following it, lighter now. “Yeah, I’m… good.”
You smooth the tie in your hands absentmindedly before handing it back to him, your fingers brushing his for the briefest second as he takes it. The contact is different now— no longer charged in the same sharp way, but still carrying something beneath it. Familiarity. Something shared.
He looks down at the tie for a moment, then back at you, adjusting his glasses finally like he’s remembering himself piece by piece. “…you’re not mad anymore,” he says, almost like he’s confirming it to himself.
Your lips curve faintly. “No,” you reply. And it’s true. Whatever had been coiled tight in your chest before is gone now, unraveled somewhere in the space you carved out together, replaced with something steadier, quieter. His shoulders loosen at that, relief softening the edges of him in a way that feels… grounding.
You watch him for a second longer, taking in the way he settles, playing with his tie, working it over to loop it back around his neck. “Fix your tie, Mr. Kim,” you say, your tone brushing back toward something more familiar, more composed.
He smiles a small, soft, a little shy smile, as he nods. “Yes, ma’am.”
YO I’m the free use anon)?) if I did set it to anon anyways. Just wanted to add on to my previous ask because it automatically got sent.
Your writing has me hooked and I thought it’d be cool to send you an ask. If you decide to do it, let loose and do whatever you want with it!
enter— your pretty house husband !!
status: edited + proofread
synopsis: your friends come over for a game night, and you can’t help but want to show him off.
word count: 3k
cw: porn with no plot, AMAB reader, FTM char (AFAB terminology used), established relationship, dom! reader, top!reader, sub!char, bottom!char, free use, exhibitionism, voyeurism, pussy slapping, fingering, praise kink, possessiveness.
note: thank you so much for the request! i hope it met your expectations! 🫶
the living room buzzes with laughter and the clatter of dice as your friends settle in, but your attention keeps drifting to him.
he—your beautiful, obedient boy, your pretty house husband, the perfect display of submission and want—moves through the kitchen with practiced ease: refilling glasses, offering snacks, wiping crumbs from the counter with a gentle, almost absentminded grace that makes your chest tighten and your cock throb.
he’s meticulous, always making sure every glass is full, every snack perfectly arranged, every detail attended to just the way you love. the house sparkles under his care—pillows fluffed, candles lit, the faint scent of his favorite cookies wafting from the kitchen. he anticipates your needs, bringing you your favorite drink before you even ask, checking that you’re comfortable, giving you that sweet, adoring smile that says he lives to please you.
the curve of his ass as he bends over the table is a private invitation, a promise, making you shift in your seat and clench your fists to keep from dragging him into your lap right there.
every time he moves it’s for you, whether he knows it or not—every flick of his wrist, every dimpled smile, every time the hem of his shorts rides up, showing off the soft swell of his thighs and the barest hint of his pussy beneath the fabric.
he tucks stray hair behind his ear, cheeks pink, and his eyes dart to you—always checking, making sure you want for nothing, and always craving your attention.
you do notice—every detail, every shiver, every unconscious arch of his back that presses his ass out for you to admire.
his shirt clings to him just right, outlining the curve of his waist and the soft skin you want to mark up all over again, and you don’t miss how the fabric of his shorts hugs the fullness of his thighs, the hint of wetness darkening the inseam.
he’s so soft, so pretty, and when he fusses over napkins or straightens a stack of games, you know he’s doing it for your praise.
"do you need anything else, love?" he asks quietly, voice gentle and eager as he leans closer. the question is for you, but his eyes flick to your friends, as if hoping they, too, will notice just how attentive he is.
you grin, letting your hand brush his hip. "you're perfect, baby. keep showing off for me."
he blushes deeper, ducking his head as he returns to his tasks, a little smile tugging at his lips.
when he presses a kiss to your shoulder, his lips linger a second too long, and his fingers skim your waist as if asking you to claim him. sometimes he leans in so close you catch the faint sweetness of his skin, the unique scent of him and his soap of choice, and you wonder if your friends can see the flush on his cheeks, the evidence of your teeth on his neck just visible where his collar falls open.
later, as he passes you another drink, one of your friends jokes, "careful, he'll spoil you. wish mine took care of me like that."
you smirk, pulling him gently into your lap for a second. "maybe you should take notes."
he laughs, barely above a whisper, "i like taking care of you."
every time he glances at you, it’s a plea to be seen, to be shown off—your boy, your house husband, your needy little thing.
you adore how he blushes under your gaze, how he soaks up your praise, desperate to be recognized as yours, his ears burning pink when the others tease him about being the perfect host.
you want everyone to see how lucky you are, how much you crave him, how you’d bend him over the kitchen table or the back of the couch at any opportunity—spread him open, mouth on his pussy, tongue buried deep until he’s shaking, sobbing, begging, just to remind him—and everyone else—who he belongs to.
he’s yours. he wants the world to know it, and you’ll never tire of letting him put himself on display.
your friends sometimes complain, half-joking and half-envious, about the way you and he disappear together at gatherings or the not-so-innocent marks he tries to hide the next day.
they tease you for being insatiable, for how you can’t seem to keep your hands off him even when company’s over, for the way you look at him like you’re always moments from dragging him away.
sometimes you catch them rolling their eyes or making snide comments about your lack of self-restraint, but you only feel a surge of pride—why should you hide your desire, your luck, the way he’s yours in every way?
what a useless thing to do.
you want them to see, to know just how thoroughly you adore him, how much he craves your attention and how gladly he gives himself to you.
there’s a part of you that wants to show off, to let everyone witness the way he melts for you, the way you can make him blush and squirm with just a look or a whispered word.
their complaints only make you bolder, eager to prove that what you have with him is something worth envying, worth flaunting, a love and hunger so intense it can’t—and shouldn’t—be hidden.
you want them to imagine what it’s like when you pull him onto your lap and make him ride you, slow and deep, until he’s shaking and sobbing into your shoulder—how his pussy clenches around you, greedy for every inch, how you hold him open and watch him drip all over your cock, gasping as you fuck him through wave after wave of needy pleasure.
you want them to know how he begs for you to fill him up, how he whimpers for your tongue, your fingers, desperate for the stretch and the praise, all the filthy words that make him come undone.
you want them to imagine the nights where you bend him over the kitchen counter or pin him against the wall and fuck him hard without so much as a word, where his cries echo through the house, and you make sure every mark you leave is one he’ll wear with pride the next day.
you want your friends to see, to really understand, how you own him—how he’s yours to tease, yours to ruin, yours to show off however you please. he’s the perfect display, your favorite prize, and you’d let the world watch if it meant they’d know just how beautiful, how desperate, how absolutely wrecked he is for you every single night.
and you notice it—the way your friends shift in their seats, the way their eyes linger, the flush on their cheeks or the subtle bulge in their pants betraying just how much watching turns them on.
sometimes you catch them glancing away, embarrassed to be caught, but you know they’re imagining what it would be like to have him, to see him come undone for them the way he does for you.
their hands sometimes drift to their laps, knuckles pale as they try to discreetly adjust themselves, biting back groans. they're not sneaky with it at all. the gall, really.
you see the hunger in their eyes, the way their lips part, breaths shallow, as they witness the two of you together.
tonight, you can’t help yourself. you'd indulge it.
when the conversation grows loud and everyone is focused on the board, the urge becomes too strong to resist.
you slide your hand around his waist, fingers curling possessively against his soft skin, and tug him gently further into your lap, right there in front of your friends.
at first, he freezes—shocked, flustered, his breath catching as he processes the sudden intimacy.
you steady him with a firm hand on his hip, guiding him to straddle you.
his cheeks burn as your friends notice and laugh, egging you on with teasing whistles and catcalls, their playful jeers mixing with the nervous energy between you.
"damn, get a room!" someone jeers, but you just smirk and hold him tighter.
"nah, i like it here," you say, voice low but clear. "want everyone to see how pretty he is for me."
your hands wander boldly, squeezing his bare thighs as his shorts ride up, the muscles beneath your fingers tensing with each touch.
you press kisses to his neck, lips skimming over flushed skin, and you savor the faint, shivery whimper he lets out.
from where he straddles you, knees bracketing your hips, his back arches, chest rising and falling with fast, shallow breaths.
your friends can’t help but stare; his shirt has ridden up, exposing the soft curve of his waist, the marks you’ve left behind from earlier.
you shift him so he’s facing the room, to his surprise, straddling your lap with his back pressed tight to your chest, every inch of him on display for your friends.
you push his legs wide, planting your hands firmly on his inner thighs, keeping him open.
his shorts barely cover anything now, riding up so high that the soft skin of his inner thighs is completely exposed, and you let your friends catch every trembling breath, every flush across his cheeks.
"what're you doing?" he whines.
you whisper in his ear, low and teasing, letting everyone else hear: "let them look, baby. you're perfect like this."
with a slow, deliberate motion, you hook your thumbs into the waistband of his shorts and pull them down over his hips, letting them slide to mid-thigh.
the room falls silent as you expose him—soft, pretty, dripping for you—his thighs spread wide and nothing left to hide.
the flush on his face deepens, lips parted as he sucks in a shaky breath, eyes darting between your friends and your hand.
for a moment, you pause, letting the anticipation build, then you take his hand and guide it between his own thighs, urging him to spread himself open for the audience.
far from shrinking away in shame, instead, with trembling fingers, he obeys, like you knew he would, pulling himself wide, revealing his slick, needy entrance to everyone watching, his breath coming in fast, shuddering gasps as he shows off the most intimate part of himself.
the soft pink folds part easily under his fingers, glistening with arousal, the delicate rim fluttering each time he breathes or you whisper in his ear.
his entrance is flushed and swollen, slick with need, the inner walls pulsing and glossy in the light—so wet you can see the sheen of it catching on his knuckles.
it’s a beautiful, obscene sight: the way his hole clenches and relaxes, shiny and inviting, on full display for everyone in the room.
you keep a possessive arm wrapped around his waist, whispering filthy encouragement into his ear while your other hand joins his, rolling your thumb over the sensitive, wet seam and angling his hips so the room has a perfect view of how ready he is for you.
letting your friends witness every detail, you murmur, "show them how much you love this, baby. let them see you inside."
each time he spreads himself wider, exposing the flutter of his entrance and the shine of arousal, your pride grows.
every breath he takes is visible, chest fluttering, his body straining to stay still despite the attention.
your friends watch, rapt and silent, as you make a show of it—of how easily he gives in to you, how much he trusts you.
"look at him," you murmur to the room. “all mine. just for me to play with."
your fingers trace over the slickness between his legs, and you feel his whole body shiver in your arms.
nothing to hide—your pretty house husband, shuddering as you let your palm cup his heat, thumb circling, pressing just enough to make him choke on a gasp. it was this strange feeling that everyone was looking at him, which was uncomfortable.
perhaps because there were so many people whose attention were only on him. it rivaled nothing else. even deep breaths didn't clear his clogged chest, so he tried taking a big breath to expand his lungs. but there was still a sticky feeling as if his alveoli weren't fully expanding.
nothing comes out.
his head falls back against your shoulder, eyes fluttering, mouth open as you whisper, "that's it, let them see how perfect you are for me."
you can feel how wet he is for you, slick and needy, and you let your fingers slip lower, teasing at his entrance with slow, deliberate strokes.
the anticipation makes him tremble, thighs quivering as you slide one finger inside.
his walls flutter around you, every pulse a silent plea for more, and you relish the hungry, jealous looks you draw from the crowd.
he clings to your arm, hips rolling up to meet your hand, desperate for more, his breath coming in short, whimpering gasps, head dropping back against your shoulder as he surrenders to your touch.
you add a second finger, slowly stretching him open, feeling his body tense and then yield, the lewd, wet sound of your fingers working him echoing through the charged silence.
his rim clenches, fluttering at the intrusion, as you curl your fingers just right, searching for that sensitive spot inside.
your thumb circles his clit with teasing, featherlight strokes, coaxing out shivers and broken cries, his voice growing hoarse with need.
your onlookers watch, transfixed, as you work him open for everyone to see—the way his thighs quake, the way his body arches, the way he bites his lip to keep from begging aloud. unable to look away from the way he squirms and gasps, from the lewd, sounds filling the room, from the way you stretch him wide and make him beg, knowing they’re hard and aching just from watching.
you take pride in how you can make your crowd of friends so desperate, so jealous, so turned on they can barely sit still, all because he’s yours to ruin and flaunt. too bad for them.
the air is thick with the scent of his arousal, and you take pride in just how much he responds to you, even with watching eyes.
when you find it, his thighs shake, hips bucking uncontrollably as you press down just right, forcing a helpless cry from his lips, nails digging into your arm as you thrust into him, slow and deep, showing everyone the way he falls apart for you.
you can feel him squeezing around your fingers, his body fluttering as you keep up the relentless rhythm—fingers scissoring, stretching him wider, making it impossible for him to hide just how much he loves being filled and put on display.
wet, squelching sounds fill the room, obscene and shameless as you piston your fingers in and out, your palm pressed tight against his mound, grinding against his swollen clit. his attempt to steady his breathing was futile. scraping the inner walls recklessly and thrusting rapidly into the unsuspecting mucosa of his insides, had made him practically forget when to breathe.
then, cruelly, you pull your hand back just enough to let it hover over his pussy, letting the suspense build as he trembles in your lap.
you bring it down with a sharp, deliberate slap, the sound a wet crack that echoes through the room.
the sting makes him gasp, his whole body jolting—hips bucking, thighs quaking, his pussy clenching and gushing fresh slick as the sensation ripples through every nerve.
he whimpers, legs spreading wider without even thinking, as you rub your hand over the reddening skin, feeling the heat and the way he pulses against your palm.
you slap him again, harder this time, and watch as his pussy grows even slicker, the tender flesh flushed deep pink, glistening with arousal and shining in the light.
each smack sends fresh waves of pleasure and humiliation through his trembling body—he arches, moans, his entrance fluttering and leaking, coating your fingers as you tease him between slaps.
his abs tense, back arching, eyes squeezed shut as he rides out the sting and the praise, his body begging for more even as he squirms in your lap.
your friends watch, transfixed and silent, as you alternate between spanking and fondling, showing off how easily he melts for you, how much he loves the attention, the roughness, the ache.
his whimpers turn shameless, louder, as you murmur filthy praise in his ear and slap him again, letting everyone see the way he gushes for you—slick streaming out, his thighs shaking, desperate and needy, lost in the sensation.
the next slap lands perfectly, and this time his whole body jerks—his pussy tightening and fluttering around your fingers before he suddenly goes still, every muscle tensed.
the impact resonated and there’s a split second of breathlessness, before he lets out a broken moan as he gushes hard against you, his milky cum burst forth from him, release soaking your hand, the evidence of his pleasure on full display for everyone to see.
you hold him tight, whispering encouragement as he trembles and rides out the aftershocks, completely undone by the sting and the praise, lost in the bliss of being shown off and claimed so openly.
one of your friends finally breaks the tension, voice low and admiring: "god, he's really well trained, isn't he?"
another pipes up, laughing gently, "you've got him so obedient—look at how he just takes it, all pretty and eager."
someone else whistles, adding, "wish mine listened like that. he's perfect for you."
don’t you know it well.
their compliments wash over both of you, fueling your pride and making your house husband squirm in your lap, his face burning with a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure.
you catch his eye and grin, letting him bask in the praise. you should do this more often.
poor lil satoru touching himself, begging reader to take him </3
Satoru’s breath hitches again, sharp and desperate, as one of his fists tighten harder around the sheets beneath him. He drags a shaky hand down between his legs, fingertips just grazing the slick running down his creamy thighs. “y..you’re just gonna watch?”
His voice cracks, whiny and breathless, as he lifts his head, lips parting in a silent plea, baby blues wide and dilated. You watch as he plunges two fingers into his sloppy hole, sucking them in so nicely, his hips jerking adorably up and down to meet his own thrusts, a restless grinding that results in a slick, glossy trail across the sheets.
Satoru arches his back with a low, strangled moan, eyes fluttering closed for a moment before snapping open, A soft whimper slips from his parted lips followed by a keen whine, almost pleading, almost begging, “I can’t… I can’t cum wi-without y'u. I need you now. ngh m-please!” he hiccups, big fat tears spilling across his flushed face. You step closer, breath warm against his ear. “youre such a needy brat toru,” you murmur, voice dripping with teasing patience. “Whining like a kicked puppy who’s been locked outside my door hm?” Your fingers brush the curve of his hip, deliberately slow, before moving to press your thumb against his slit, spreading the beads of precum around his throbbing cock. Satoru yelps at this, his head falls back with a broken, breathy cry, eyes squeezed shut, mouth trembling as drool shamelessly dribbles down his chin. "mhm. always so messy js' for me angel"
You let your fingers trace lower, catching the top of his rim every now and then pushing a finger in with his. You watch as his breath catches, a soft moan tumbling followed by a higher pitched keen. His body arches toward you, pressing into the touch, desperate for more.“I’ll do whatever you want,” he pants, voice hoarse with want, “just please please ngh i.. i need you already please please please.” His hands clutch the sheets tighter, knuckles white, he can feel his climax build up in the pit of his stomach, eyes lolling to the back of his head, mouth agape to let out a series of ah! ah! ah!'s. Just as his vision soars white you firmly grab his wrist, stopping his lewd moments. Satoru tenses, his body trembles violently, every nerve ending alive and screaming beneath your touch. His breath is ragged, stuttering a series of sharp pants and desperate whines, as he bucks into your hand like a wild thing caught just short of freedom. His eyes, glazed and pleading, lock onto yours with raw need, lips trembling as he lets out a whiny desperate whimper.
You chuckle softly, voice silky and merciless. “Not yet.” You watch his whole body shudder, his lips parting in a silent plea, big fat tears threatening to fall again as he tries to catch his breath.
You're done with him but he can't get enough of you
warnings: car sex, pegging him, strap-on riding, choking, slapping, crying, he calls you mommy, overstimulation
character: Naoya Zenin
a/n: since a few people requested this (and I wanted it to happen just as much)
‘’You're pathetic.’’ He spat, strutting through your shared room. ‘’Just worthless. I don't know why I got married to you in the first place.’’ You didn't know either. Well, you did. It was arranged. The day you found out you'd end up married to Naoya Zenin, you looked up to God and asked who you had offered in your last life. Because there was no worse punishment than marrying an imbecile.
‘’Right…’’ you muttered, flipping the page of your book. You heard half of what he had to say. Making sure you didn't pay more attention to him than necessary. Because that was what he really was after. Attention. There was no other reason he walked into your bedroom and started yelling without any sort of provocation.
‘’You're a bitch! A good-for-nothing slut.’’ You wouldn't let it get to you, you told yourself over and over again. Nails digging into the paperback of the book you were reading. He was just an idiot, you repeated to yourself, that's just how he was. You took a few deep breaths, closing your eyes, trying to drown him out. That's until he spoke up again. ‘’You can't do anything right.’'
You snapped.
Slamming your book shut, you finally managed to shut him up. He stared at you with his eyebrows furrowed. When you rested your book on your nightstand and stood up to leave the room, he thought he had won. Won the war. Maybe you'd spend the night on the couch now instead of annoying him with your presence.
He let out a contented sigh, jumping into the bed, lying on his back. But before he could even think about falling asleep, the door opened again. He thought you'd just get a few clothes and leave. But when he didn't hear the door fall shuy, he opened his eyes hesitantly.
There you were, stomping back into the room. Grabbing a bag he had never seen before, watching you stuff all your clothes into it messily. You were used to his antics. Used to him calling you names, making you feel worthless, and making you feel stupid. But you were done. At your breaking point.
Naoya, as per usual, didn't take you seriously. Instead, he groaned in annoyance, closing his eyes again. When you were done, he told you to make sure to close the door properly behind you. You slammed it shut, hurrying out of the house, right into your car to wherever the wind would take you.
She would be back, he thought to himself. You always came crawling back to him. No, not this time. This time you wouldn't run back to him because you were finally tired of him. The thing is, you never crawled back to him because you had to, no. It was because you loved him. But you weren't sure you could continue loving him. Every sane woman in your life had told you to leave him multiple times, and you kept on making excuses for him.
He wasn't always an asshole. When you pinned him down and made sure to nail him into your sheets, he could behave. But you didn't want a man who'd only listen once you scrambled his brain.
Naoya started getting worried when he didn't hear anything from you the next day. No text telling him he hurt your feelings, no missed call, not even one of your friends was bashing him. Nothing. By the third day, he was spiralling. Asking himself if you were truly never going back to him. You had to, right? You loved him. He watched his phone, your contact, thumb hovering over the call button as he contemplated whether to call you or not. So he decided to call. He bet you were just sitting there, waiting for him to contact you. To his surprise, your phone was off. Where were you? Why did you have to turn your phone off? He was worried. Most of all, pissed.
And instead of looking for you, asking your friends where you were to grovel as a good husband would, he went out to drink some beer with his equally frustrating mates who only fueled his anger. His night was filled with ‘’women should know their place'’ here, and ‘’you have to get your female under control’’ there. A whole mess. By the time they stumbled out of the bar, he spotted your car nearby.
Without even thinking, he left his friends, rushed over, and started banging on the car window. Luckily, you were inside, rolling your eyes at the scene. Rolling down the window, you stared at him expectantly. Maybe he'd apologise. No, he's too proud to do such a thing.
Walking to the other side, he got into the passenger seat before you could even think about what he was doing, he was sitting next to you in the confined space of your car.
''What do you want? I told you I was done with you, didn't I?'' You exclaimed, rolling your window back up. Raising your eyebrows, you waited for him to respond to your question.
''Come on, don't be like this.'' He snickered leaning in to kiss you but you shoved him off of you with an eyeroll, looking at yourself in your little mirror, fixing your hair a little bit, telling him you had nothing to say to him and you were going to leave if he had nothing important to say.
''It seems like you're just wasting my time here.''
You were just about to step out of that car, leaving him there. You didn't care that it was your car. All you wanted was for him to leave you alone. ''No, no wait. Don't go.'' His hand reached out to hold you in place flinching as soon as he was met with your cold gaze staring at him. Knowing he wasn't allowed to just touch you whenever he desired to, he left his hand there taking a deep breath to calm his nerves and get ready to say what he wanted to tell you.
His eyes met yours. You weren't glaring at him anymore, instead frowning at his antics. And to be honest, you grew quite impatient. You had to wake up early tomorrow, and didn't need him as a silly distraction.
''I will ask you once. One time only. What do you want, Zenin?''
''Mommy...''
He mumbled with pleading eyes, staring right at you.
Putting two and two together, you started laughing before gripping his chin softly, all while smirking at him. And you know he had probably thought you'd crawl back to him. But the tables had fucking turned. ''So this is what it is, huh? Shit, I won't get rid of you that easily it seems.''
You tilted your head, nodding, motioning for him to get into the backseat and he complied immediately scrambling to get into your beloved backseat. Finally, you joined him without any words being exchanged and started kissing him while pulling him into your lap. His arms draped around your neck pulling you closer as you sucked at his tongue, unbuttoning his shirt before playing with his nipples, still puffy from the rough encounter he had faced a few days ago. When you punished him with nipple clamps. He whimpered into your mou lth before you pulled away momentarily.
"Do you have a strap?''
You nodded. Of course, you had one. You were the type of person who was prepared for every situation. ''Pull your pants down to your ankles.'' He nodded, desperate to feel you inside him, unbuttoning his pants to pull them down, his hard dick slapping against you. You stroked it a few times before propping yourself up, reaching into a bag and taking out a strap. Wearing it in the car was a struggle, and you had him get off you first, but you did it, lubing it up and helping him slide down on you.
He let out a choked whine the minute he reached the very end of your toy, grinding down on it slowly. He smiled down at you, that smug teasing grin plastered on his face as if he had you right where he wanted to have you. And you smacked him across the face making him smile even more.
''Don't look at me like that.'' You started thrusting up into him, starting slow and increasing in pace with every thrust, putting your hips to work while he slammed down on your length choking out whiny sobs.
''Look at you like wh-what?''
You smirked up at him, wrapping your hands around his neck, squeezing tightly. His eyes rolled back with tears streaming down his face as he smiled through the tears.
Fucking lunatic.
You started full on fucking him while using his neck as leverage now making him cry out in pleasure.
''Like I belong to you.'' You exclaimed pulling him into a kiss. His arms squeezed around you tightly, hiding his face in your chest as his body shuddered and twitched uncontrollably before he started panting and you felt him cumming against you like some whore. "Did you just-"
He pushed you back against the seat making you rest on your back as he started bouncing on your strap you roughly. "Mommy..." He whimpered quietly. It seemed like he had lost control of himself. And you loved seeing this sight of him.
When your hands landed on his waist again, you began thrusting up into him once again, drawing whines from him. Whines in a pitch you had never heard from him. ''Have I fucked you stupid already?'' You snickered, pulling him closer to lick the tears off his face. ''You're pathetic.'' You whispered, pressing soft kisses to his neck. A contrast between your bruising pace on his prostate. ‘’Just worthless. I don't know why I got married to you in the first place.’’ You meant every word. After all, he couldn't even fuck you right. He couldn't fuck you as a real man would. The only thing he was good for, was gagging on your strap, and looking pretty while taking it.
Taking all of you. All you were able to give him. And he had the audacity to complain about you?
''You're a bitch. A good-for-nothing slut.’’ You muttered in a sing-song voice, right into his skin, biting down on the collar of his neck. What did he do? He whined, throwing his head back, leaving you more access. ''You can't do anything right, can you?'' Chuckling, you ground right against his prostate. "You can't even stand your ground and stay away from me.''
And that was the simple truth. No matter how much he cursed you out, made you look stupid and swore you were worthless, deep down he knew. He knew he needed your strap.
You've known Geto since middle school, and everything since you laid eyes on him, you've liked him more than just a friend. Nowadays, you're friends with certain benefits. But what happens when your feelings take over?
warnings: sub!bottom!jock!fwb geto x domme!top!reader, friends to lovers, you throw a book at his head, you finger him, pegging, premature ejaculation, overstimulation, male squirt, requested
character: Geto Suguru
‘’I like you.’’ It came as a surprise to you.
Well, not really. You had a feeling he liked you. He loved hanging around you, helping you with your homework, his touches lingered a little more than a normal person’s gaze would. And now, when he brought you to a café just around your uni’s campus, you froze, setting your drink down.
He looked at you, really looked at you. Which was starting to make you uncomfortable because… You were about to break this guy's heart. He was a good guy. Smart and attentive. Always seemed to be at the right place at the right time. But you liked someone else, that was the problem. Geto Suguru to be precise. The guy you had been hooking up with for a few months now, your upper-class man, you knew right from middle school. And you had a crush on him ever since you laid your eyes on him. How could you not? He was pretty, kind, smart, the school's golden boy. And even now, he is quite popular at your university. Everyone wanted to be with him, but he seemed oblivious to their feelings.
And both of you had grown quite close recently. Besides fucking his brains out and making him cry into your sheets, you had actual conversations and you had strengthened your friendship. With every day that crept up on you, you didn't want to be friends anymore. And it was killing you. Now more than ever.
‘’I'm sorry, I-’’ You didn’t even know what to say; he had really caught you off guard. And it was not in your nature to break someone's heart. You didn't walk around waiting for an opportunity to do so. And got the message by the look in your eyes. The look you gave him spoke more than a thousand words, and all he did was smile as he interrupted you. It was okay, he said. He could already tell you didn't feel the same for him, he said. All this really was? Was selfish. He wanted you to set him free by outright rejecting him; and he got what he wanted.
You still finished your cup of tea, striking up a new conversation as if nothing had happened before. To be honest, you were glad when the conversation ended, warranting you to leave because it was starting to get weird. So you said your goodbyes, heading to the sports faculty H/n was probably training. But you had no idea where he was, and you were way too shy to text him now. How lame would it be to ask him about his whereabouts? Okay, he did that all the time.
But you just weren't that type of person.
You could hear some commotion coming from one of the gymnasiums, and you could be sure he was in there when you could hear everyone screaming and chanting his name like some prayer.
Idiots.
You rolled your eyes, opening the door and setting foot on the court, waiting at the sidelines. The game was over with him winning and flexing on the court, beaming as hot as the sun when he spotted you. His smile was so bright but when his best friend's attention, Gojo's attention to be precise, swayed to you, his smile faded a little. Or you were crazy and delusional. But you could have sworn his expression changed when that guy winked at you.
All he did was start to smile again, his big hand coming up to cover his eyes, saying he should be the only one people admired. And everyone chalked it up to jealousy. Which it was. But was he jealous of you getting attention or was he jealous because another guy was giving you attention?
You'd find out soon.
He grabbed his bag on the other side of the gym, running to get back to you, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the gym. Oh, anyone was able to see that he was so happy to be with you. Ecstatic even. Everyone but you.
He let go of your hand as you tugged them into your hoodie, not looking at him while you walked.
‘’How was your day? Did you miss me?’’ He smirked, leaning into you, bumping into your shoulder playfully. You let out an annoying groan, which would be rewarded by a laugh from him, before you just started talking about everything that happened.Well… Almost everything.
And he could tell you weren’t telling him something. Hiding it even. By the look on your face, you were trying to avoid it completely, squeezing the book in your hand.
He pestered you. Whined about how you two have known each other for years now. About how he was a trustworthy upper-class man who would keep your secret and help you with it.You sighed, still not sparing him a glance. And went on with the explanation. About how that guy in your lecture, that nice guy who always took notes for you when you were sick, who liked to spend time with you outside of school, liked you. Your movements slowed down as you finally looked at him. And this time, he was the one looking away. He sighed before a smile took over his features, and you weren't ready for what he was about to say. ‘’I think you should go for him."
Ah, there it was.
‘’It takes real courage for someone to come up to you and confess their feelings. He must like you very much.’’ He added laughing a little. ‘’You should give him a chance.’’ You froze in your spot, blood running cold. There it was. The thing you were afraid of. Indifference. He didn't care. Not one bit. After everything? After all the times he came to you sobbing in the middle of the night without giving you any reason. After cuddling on his couch for no apparent reason. After having sex all this time, the kind that makes you question everything about your friendship.
You stopped in your tracks and he continued talking while walking. But you could hear anything, blinded by anger, blending out every other thing. And that's when you did it, throwing the little, not too heavy, book at the back of his head.
He turned around slowly, holding the spot you had just hit, staring at the book before his gaze wandered, finding your face. ‘’Wh-What was that for-'’ before he could finish his question, you were out of there. You couldn't believe you had just embarrassed yourself like that. What possessed you to do that?
Yeah, he didn't like you back. So what? Was that a justification to throw your favourite book at him and leave it there? Now you are sad and embarrassed. Sad about misinterpreting his feelings for you, embarrassed about not being able to keep your emotions in check.
But still, you couldn't help but feel like he had just ripped the ground away from underneath your feet, having you free-fall. You felt pathetic.
Once you got home, took a shower, and got changed into your pyjamas, you slumped into bed face-first, lying there for who knows how long. You didn't want to eat, you didn't want to sleep, you didn't want to move. Just staying right there, drowning in your misery was all you wanted.
And after a few hours of you moping around on the bed, doing nothing but pitying yourself, the doorbell rang. When you went to open it and saw him, you were going to slam the door shut, but he held it open, and you just gave up. He handed you your book right at the door, which you were grateful for.
But you still couldn't let him in. You didn't want to.
He stood in your doorway staring right at you, leaning against the door frame as if expecting you to say something. ‘’I like you.’’ You stated, which seemed to have caught him by surprise. He sure hadn't expected that. ‘’I have liked you all this time. Since middle school.’’
His eyes went wide and you could practically see the gears in his head turning. Before he smiled again. That smile that lights up a whole hall if it just wanted to. ‘’I like you too.’’ You froze and he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. ‘’But did you really have to throw that book at the back of my head?’’ He stepped away, ‘’Anyway, I have an early class tomorrow. I promise we will speak about this tomorrow!’’
Before he could even attempt to leave, your hand was around his wrist pulling him into you, slamming your lips against his. You were sure he would be stubborn, try to get away from you, which he did. He tried pulling away just for a moment, before it faded. Slowly, you let go of his wrist, arms falling to his waist as he melted into the kiss, arms wrapped around your neck.
You slammed the door shut behind him, not breaking the kiss as you made your way to your room. It was hot, needy, breathy as you pushed him onto your bed, telling him to take his clothes off. Hesitantly, he sat up in your bed, starting to take off his clothes slowly while you headed over to your closet getting your strap ready. By the time you were done, turning around to face him he was in nothing but your panties, nervously sitting on your bed.
Pushing him back and spreading his legs, you came in between them, pushing his legs up to his chest, lips pressing against his, your tongue exploring his mouth as your lubed up fingers prodded at his entrance.It hadn't been long since you two had done it. The last time you had sex was two days ago. Yesterday, you two were studying at the library before falling asleep at his place. He wrapped his arms around you as you pushed a finger into his warm hole, making him whine into your kiss. Pushing one finger past his bundle of nerves wasn't hard. Pushing two fingers past his rim felt better. Pushing three fingers into him though, had him clinging to you.
This time, you pulled away from the kiss, continuing to pump your three fingers into him before sucking some marks into his neck. ‘’I have been waiting for this day patiently.’’ You whispered, trailing down to his chest, taking his nub into your mouth. The whimpers that fell past his lips were mind-blowing. And his back arched deliciously, one of his hands flying to cover his mouth.
‘’Come on.’’ You muttered, biting into his firm peck, making him wince and clench around your fingers. ‘’We finally confess our feelings for each other and you won't even let me hear you?’’ You whispered, looking up at him with those eyes. Those eyes that seemed to haunt him every night. Those eyes he loved staring into any chance he got. That look you'd give him before making him cum like a slut over and over again.
His grip on your shoulders was lethal, hips bucking as your fingers fastened in pace. ‘’Come on, sweetheart. Let me hear you.’’
Hesitantly, his hand fell from his lips. ‘’C-Can you put it in now?’’ He whispered, not daring to look at you. He was quite shy today. Usually, he'd be all cocky, pin you down, and make himself feel good on your strap. But today? He seemed embarrassed by any single thing you did.
‘’Put what in?’’ You whispered, biting your way back up, leaving a trail of marks in your wake, making your way up to suck and lick at his earlobe. ‘’You can do better than that, baby. I want to hear you say it.’’
He sighed in frustration, eyes squeezed shut tightly, biting down on his lower lip. ‘’I want your strap-'’ He froze, turning his head away from you. ‘’Y-Your dick inside me, Y/n…’’
You smirked, letting out a huff. ‘’My dick, huh?’’
He nodded, spreading his legs further when you pulled out your fingers, positioning yourself at his entrance. Oh, he was desperate for it now. His hands held his legs open, his dick was leaking and hard, titts perked up, hole fluttering around nothing as he looked at you with that pathetic expression plastered on his face. He wanted you badly.
He craved you.
And like the nice person you were, you gave him what he wanted. Pushing into him. Slowly. Gently. Hands resting on the back of his thighs, pinning him into your mattress as you pushed into him, watching inch after inch of your strap disappear inside him.
His mouth fell open in a silent scream, eyes fluttering shut, head falling back as you bottomed out inside him. Body spasming as he came. You raised your eyebrows in surprise because he wasn't one to cum fast in bed. He could last long if he wanted to. And he was the one always telling you to slow down because it would be embarrassing to come too fast.
And here he was, coming from half a stroke. But you chalked it up to your fingers working their magic on him right before this. It seemed like he wasn't even aware of the fact that he came. Because when his hazy eyes fluttered open again, tear glazed eyes staring right at you before his gaze wandered down to the crime scene, he frowned. ‘’Wh-What the-'’
But before he could say anything, you pushed yourself into him again. Harder this time. Creating a steady rhythm of thrusts.
You let go of his legs pressed against his chest, resting your hands on either side of his head as you pounded into him. He clung to your shoulders, wrapping his arms around your neck, whining into the crook of at as he legs started shaking around you.
It didn't take long for you to find his prostate, hitting it over and over again to the point he was crying. He was a babbling mess, apologising for everything and nothing. Begging for god knows what.
‘’Mm-I… I like you.’’ He whimpered into your neck.
You chuckled. ‘’'That so?’’
He nodded haptically, a smile framing his face as tears rolled down his cheeks. ‘’I l-love you.’'
Now you burst out in laughter, stopping your movements momentarily, leaning down to press a kiss to his soft, pouty lips. ‘’I love you too.’’ You muttered, picking up your thrusts again.
‘’I'm so f-fucking close!’’ He whined clinging to you once again. And this time, when you hit his prostate, he came. He came hard. Body shaking as you ground against his prostate. He cried out, painting your bellies white.
You helped him ride through his high, watching as his chest rose and fell. You bent down, pressing soft kisses to his face as his eyes fluttered open.
‘’Can you give me one more?’’ You pressed a kiss to his nose, caressing his cheek. And he smiled, nodding at you. He pulled you into another kiss, this one lasting longer than the others as you pushed into him again.
This time, you reached out to press down on his lower belly, making him feel you moving inside him even more. ‘’You're such a good boy, you know that?’’
‘’Th-Thank you…’’ he whimpered, trying to push your hand off his belly, but you wouldn't let up. You kept your hand there, pressing into his lower abdomen firmly. Making his legs shake was fun. Eyes welling up with tears, lower lip trembling, trying to push you away. ‘’It f-feels weird… I think I'm going to-'’ He went quiet, eyes rolling back as his hand trying to push you off fell to the sheets.
Suddenly, a thin liquid squirted out of his making him come back to his senses a little bit. With every thrust you took, more liquid leaked out of him, getting him all wet. ‘’Wh-What is that?!’’ By the sound of his voice, you could tell he was as embarrassed as never before. But instead of stopping, you flipped him on to his stomach gently, making him arch his back before you continued fucking him.What he couldn't see wouldn't bother him, right?
You continued thrusting into him, grabbing on to his ass as he made all sorts of noises. He was whining, whimpering, crying out of pleasure and his hole was gaping every time you pulled out just to push in again.
The thin liquid spilled out of him again, but this time he slumped into the sheets without a warning, going unconscious.You stopped all your movements immediately, pulling out and trying to shake him awake. ‘’Suguru? Are you okay?’’
You decided not to panic, changing the bedsheets and cleaning him up before patting his forehead with a warm washcloth.
You were concerned. He had never passed out on you like this, let alone come so much to the point he ended up squirting like a girl. Finally, his eyes fluttered open, big eyes staring right at you as you continued patting his forehead.
‘’Did I pass out...?’’
‘’Yes, I'm sorry.’’ You muttered, cupping his face with one hand. ‘’Are you okay?’’
He didn't say anything and silence filled your room. He furrowed his brows, sitting up slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath before looking at you. ‘’You don't give me aphrodisiacs when we do it, right?’’
You frowned, rolling your eyes. There he was. He seemed fine enough. ‘’Don't be stupid now. You didn't have anything to eat or drink before we did it.’’
‘’Why did I feel it so intensely today?’’ He questioned, really thinking about it. Maybe it's because your dick game is on point, but saying that would earn you an eye roll, so you just kept quiet.
‘’I don't know.’’ Maybe it was fueled by the feelings he had for you.
‘’Is there something in your strap? Let me see that package.’’
You stood there, confused as ever. There was no way he was serious.
“I missed you, mommy,” Soobin purred out, his beady eyes piercing through you as you settled further onto the couch and your sweet boyfriend sat on his knees. Desperate as ever, nestled between your thighs.
⋆🐾⋆
You weren’t new to the distance, especially when hectic schedules caused drifts between you two from time to time, but you’d also be lying if you said you didn’t miss him equally as much.
Nevertheless, it was three days.
For three days, he had to be away from you, and that was all it took for him to lose himself completely. Almost as if his mind was corrupted with the most licentious urges when your absence was felt, with no way to remedy them.
Not returning to past voice messages where your honeyed tone praised his name. Not phone sex or porn. Not even touching himself to your photos was enough.
He longed for the real thing, wanting nothing else.
Needing nothing else but you.
So, when he got the message you’d come over after work, his body ignited the second you unlocked the door—along with all his repressed cravings.
You promised you were just as excited to see him, but couldn’t ignore the exhaustion hanging over you the more you inched into his apartment. You were so tired, you couldn’t even make it past the living room, ending with your limbs sprawled out on the sofa.
However, your sweet, sweet boy inched behind you at every turn, now peering up at you like some hungry pup.
⋆🐾⋆
“Missed you so so much,” he sighed, his lips barely skimming your knee as he traced his fingers down your sides.
He held your calf, fighting the urge to dig his nails into the delicate skin as he planted wet kisses along your knee. Warm and shaky breaths fanned against you, sending goosebumps down your spine.
You didn’t have to say a word; not at all surprised by his clinginess, but deeply piqued by his ravenous demeanor. Clad in fragility.
But the drowsiness left you entirely when he clung to one of your legs, pressing his growing bulge against it. “H-he missed you too-ngh! so fucking m-much…”
His pretty eyes glossed over as he pleaded, hooded lids never fully closing, watching you watch him. He felt himself pulsing at your little reactions, shuddering at every quiet gasp.
He let out a hollow groan as his bruised knees dug further into the carpet, carelessly rocking and bucking his hips.
“Fuck.. It’s been s-so long,” he whimpered, as his chest steadily rose and fell, syncing with yours the more he spurred you on. “Mhn! please..”
Soobin drew in sharp breaths, eyes fluttering shut as he kept the fervent pace. He pumped his aching cock against you, not caring about how humiliating he looked. It was your fault he was such a mess, and he wanted to ensure you knew.
You bent down, cupping his face, feeling his fragile frame quiver to the touch. You pressed your thumb to his plush lips, which he readily took in, sucking and lapping around it. You placed it hard on his tongue, prying his mouth open.
“Tell me what you want, pretty,” you cooed, painting his cheeks hues of crimson.
“Wanna feel good,” he whined, gripping your leg closer as his steady thrust grew more pitiful and coarse. “W-wanna come just like this, mommy.”
The words made you flutter all over, sensing the arousal pooling in your panties. You were nearly as desperate as he was, but at this point, you didn’t care to do anything about it yet, itching to see the extent of his want.
“Yeah? Feel that good humping my leg?” Your lips curved into a smirk, releasing his mouth, the warm spit cooling as you smeared it along his cheek. “Gonna make a mess in your pants f’me, Binnie?”
He nodded vigorously, reaching a hand to tug on your top. “Y-yea, just like this..”
Soobin was overwhelmed, his head buzzing as his whimpers and strained sobs draped you both. He couldn’t control the roll of his hips anymore, feeling the pressure pressing in his abdomen, borderline bringing him over the edge.
“Forgot how g-good this feels…c-can mommy please remind me?”
your threat is nothing but a fatal invitation to yeonjun; calamitous attraction beckoning him towards you, only a few sane thoughts keeping him from colliding into you. the separation tastes like copper as it cuts into his tongue.
" i want you. " yeonjun confesses, through webs of sincerity he has long abandoned whenever the topic came to you, but not tonight. he was desperate to hold you; feel your softness under his calloused fingers, and deceitful decisions.
"to own me or to love me?" comes your brave reply. yeonjun doesn't speak a word but he stalks towards you. his hooded eyes reflecting his true intention in a long, long time. his hands touch yours, as though they'd melt away from the heat he is emitting—you've got to admit they do burn.
it's painful, and satisfying to have him. probably not fully, but the way his hands roam from your palms to your forearms to inch you closer to his embrace—you cannot help but soak in the scathing fire of his love.
Monthly brunches with your little group of friends were never dull. You actually looked forward to them the most whenever life’s schedule grew tedious, and work exhausted you to no end.
Although not this time around, with the guy you've been dating for a couple of months now.
Choi Soobin.
He was kind, gentle, and up front with you. Caring in a way you could never fully comprehend, a sincere lover, and certainly a pleasant view for anyone who had eyes.
You would definitely say he made life more colorful, and of course, an immense part of the discussion at monthly brunches.
Various topics would dance around the table, only meeting their end when the waiter returned with the food–but once plates were partially empty and bellies half full, the conversation rekindled.
From busy morning traffic to bothersome colleagues, to the inevitable sexcapades you all rounded the table, narrating to one another.
So once the group got to your particular situation, an entire index of questions came hurling at you, desperate to scratch whatever strange, kinky itch they all secretly shared.
“I mean, he just seems too nice,” One of your friends shrugged. “ How could you blame us for thinking he’s more on the vanilla side?”
“Uh, uh. It’s the nice ones that scare me,” Another friend muffled, covering her mouth as she swallowed another bite of French toast. “They’re cute but get all frisky once they've got you pinned.”
You were fairly private about your sex life and the activities you and Soobin enjoyed.
Not because you didn’t want to tell them, but you did feel a bit self-conscious about being seen differently. You loved your friends, no doubt, but just the topic of toe fetishes made them lose their appetites. So, you continued to play it safe.
“No, she's right.” You let out a faint laugh, putting down your now-empty cup of mocha. “He can be pretty basic at times.”
“Told you,” The first friend teased, clearly proud of her speculations, while the rest of the group simply rolled their eyes.
“That man’s too sweet. He’s like made of sugar.”
You shifted in your seat, reaching into your purse for your favored pack of Marlboro Reds. Internally, you prayed your smile was sellable enough for them to move on. “Totally.”
Little did they know.
─── · ·
Earlier that morning, a shirtless Soobin had just finished his morning ritual, placing his toothbrush back in its holder.
You were nowhere to be found when he stirred awake. Reaching over to hold you, there was nothing but pillows and a cold blanket. But it didn’t take long to realize exactly where you were.
He left the bathroom and rounded the corner, hearing the whistle of the kettle he had put on the stove minutes ago. Upon entering the kitchen, he paused, sensing you nearby–the air veiled in your soft essence.
Familiar with the scent, he knew it was the body wash you used during early-morning showers. His eyes fluttered shut, completely enamored by it.
Your wet hair. The calm little droplets slowly cascaded down your neck until they seeped into the shirt’s fabric.
His shirt.
He knew you had it on cause you wore it to bed the night before, just inches above your knees as your legs perched up by the window–your attention lost in some chapter of a book.
God, just the thought of seeing you like that. He took a deep breath, feeling his dick twitch. He needed to hurry.
Impatient now, he opened a nearby cupboard in search of a mug, his other hand turning off the stove. Then he poured the nearly-boiled water, grabbed two packets of chamomile tea, and added honey.
He stirred only three teaspoons, just the way you liked it, and made his way to you.
A few careful steps later, and there you were, exactly as he had envisioned, in your usual spot during a quiet sunrise. He felt all oxygen leave his lungs, frozen in the doorway as he watched the sun’s rays shine on your skin.
How otherworldly.
He nearly jolted when your voice struck his ears.
“Are you on my time or am I on yours?” You urged more like an order, not even sparing him a glance.
He rushed over, still cautious of your tea, handed it to you, and straightened up beside you.
“My cigarettes?”
Soobin didn’t hesitate to pull them out, already in his sweats pocket. You gladly took them and placed them on the windowsill.
“Good. On all fours.” You commanded. Almost faster than you said it, he complied, kneeling on the wood, as he stared at the floor.
“I trained you well, I see.” Smirking, you flipped to another page.
“My good boy.”
The man let out a labored breath, though he wasn’t sure if it was because of the sweetness laced in your tone or what he was preparing himself for. Probably both.
He sat in eager silence, pressing his palms to the floor harder, as you took a small sip of your tea. You hissed, letting out a chuckle from the hot liquid, burning the tip of your tongue. Perfect temperature.
“Just the perfect little mutt for me.” You turned to him, finally, and pressed the scorching drink on his back.
Instantly, Soobin jerked forward, whimpering as the mug’s rim hit his skin. In consequence, some tea tipped onto him, forcing out a pained moan.
“Oh no..” You cooed, returning to your book. “Are you gonna drop my tea, Binnie?”
“Shit...” He quickly straightened his back, biting back the whimpers threatening to escape. “N-no, I won’t, Miss.”
He felt his cock pulse from the feeling, mixing between pain and pleasure every time he shook. Not to mention you. So cold towards him as he poured into you.
Call him a lovesick fuck, but it made him fuzzy inside, wanting nothing but to feel that warmth again, and you gave it to him.
You taking this so seriously, despite being hesitant at first, meant so much. Like you actually cared about making him feel good. Though in a rather cruel way.
He wanted to earn your love. Your rewards, your kisses, your beautiful smile when he did the right thing. He craved it all.
“I–hah! I promise I won’t, Miss.” Soobin fought his pathetic moans from escaping him, but that quickly faltered when you drove the cup to a different spot, urging it into the flesh.
He gasped, stunned by how good it burned. He could feel himself leaking, precum staining his pants. “Yes! Please...”
You let out a low chuckle, staring in awe as he took everything you gave him, getting off on the adrenaline yourself.
“Please, what Binnie?”
Then he fixed his gaze towards you, making you inhale a sharp breath. You met his teary eyes and quivering form, struggling to get the words out.
“Please..k-keep hurting me,” he cried. “Wanna burn-ngh! f-for you.”
You felt a heat surging through you, aching between your thighs as he looked away, which was good in your case. Cause oh, did he look so pretty. Though, even better with his mouth on your wet cunt, drinking you up the way you liked.
You wavered, dropping your book beside you, lifted the ceramic off of him, took another sip of tea, and set it aside the window.
Reaching over for your Marlboro Reds and lighter, you observed the fresh wounds, pulling a cigarette between your teeth.
“God, are you fucking pathetic.”
You continued, lighting up and taking a nice drag. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”
You took a few more inhales before gently forcing the end into his shoulder.
Another pitiful whine betrayed him, curling his toes as his cock twitched once more. “Mhn! Thank you..”
He tried not to tremble, but the bliss was becoming too much. He writhed and bucked his hips against nothing, craving some sort of friction.
“Thank you s-so much.. so grateful.”
You repeated the torture, using a few more on him as he unfolded at your feet.
“My little ashtray,” You purred with a tilt of your head. “That’s all you are.”
At this point, Soobin was completely hysterical. Tears coursed down his face, and drool dribbled down his jaw while his body shuddered in pleasure. Truly euphoric.
He felt a tightness coiling in his abdomen with every bud that scorched his skin, each one hurting like a bittersweet kiss.
“Think I’m gonna come,” Soobin pleaded, fighting with whatever will he had left not to fall over.
“Please–I’ve been so good…been so good for you.”
You couldn’t lie; his pleas were making you just as restless, wanting so badly to put his pretty mouth to use, but you had more restraint than that. You could go for hours if it meant having him exactly like this.
“Oh no, you won’t, baby.” The words slipped through your lips like venom. “Not until I say, I’m done with you. Understand?”
His sobs echoed throughout the room, so close to release, yet entirely loyal to you. He adjusted himself, his knees sore against the floor.
“Y-yes, I do...”
You couldn’t help but laugh, smiling down at his injured skin.
“That’s my good boy.”
─── · ·
“What a shame,” You heard one of your friends sigh, finishing up whatever was left of their plate.
Meanwhile, you took another drag of your cigarette, twisting and teasing it through your fingers. You watched the smoke wane into the air, a new gleam in your eyes as you smirked.
genre: swapped sexes, supernatural, smut, crack, college au
pairings: sub bp ! YouTuber student! beomgyu x gn dom ! student ! reader
synopsis: You wake up with a dick. Beomgyu wakes up with a vagina. This could possibly have something to do with the dodgy ouija board beomgyu got for free from a sex shop…
warnings: beomgyu has a pussy !! reader has a dick !!, ghosts, mentions of death, ouija board, this isn’t meant to make any sense, pretty taboo, the consent could be considered a tiny bit blurry, piv sex, fingering, eating out, pussy slapping, crying, squirting, creampie, rough sex, calling beomgyu a girl, spanking
word count: 10k
“Yo, I’m coming over right now.”
“Like, right now?” You were just in the middle of cleaning up your desk with your antibacterial wipes and all the rest of the mess that had piled up from the start of the week - some uncleaned dishes, empty ramen cups, all of your clothes that were thrown on your chair, the small bin that was pretty full by now. You’d managed to neglect tidying and doing the house chores right up until the weekend when you really couldn’t ignore it for any longer.
“You’re being in my youtube video.” Beomgyu states matter-of-factly over the phone. You can hear his footsteps, the sounds of cars and the outside winds from his end, which means he quite literally was coming over to yours right this moment.
You tiredly sigh, pulling out another wipe from the packet with aggression, your phone on speaker. “Why do I need to be in it?”
“Your building’s the haunted one right?”
“Supposedly.”
“Thennnn it’s perfect! I’ll be there in ten.” He hangs up.
You close your eyes briefly and shake your head, one hand on your hip, then, opening your eyes to survey your half cleaned room. Dealing with beomgyu, however, was an even greater effort than cleaning your entire messy student accom times ten.
He’s not exactly your best friend. That title belongs to taehyun. Taehyun is unfortunately both of your best friends which is how you met beomgyu. And even more unfortunately, taehyun is traitorously abroad for the semester at the moment, so now beomgyu has redirected his full energy and badgering onto you, because ‘you’re the next best thing’ apparently, beomgyu’s words.
You won’t lie, you were apprehensive of beomgyu at first, didnt quite like him. Taehyun was your childhood best friend. It was only ever you and him from the beginning. Taehyun has always just got you. He thought in the same way as you, a mutual understanding ever since you were four, when everyone else on the playground was wailing over the smallest of things like getting their knee a little scraped and missing their mothers after forty minutes of being in school, both of you unimpressed by the dramatics of the other four year olds, and you’ve been stuck together like gorilla glue ever since. He’s been with you from primary school, the same secondary school, all the way up until you were applying to university together. You’d ended up naturally picking the same one, the same subject, both of you inevitably stem based people.
You’d falsely assumed it would simply be just the two of you once more, navigating adulthood together. But, when you started university, he suddenly got super close to this one dude named Choi beomgyu. To be honest, you had hated his guts. Whenever taehyun talked about him, mentioned him in passing, you gained an overwhelming amount of ugly jealousy at hearing his name.
“Oh, beomgyu this, oh, beomgyu that.”
“Oh, I can’t, I already made plans with beomgyu.”
“Oh, beomgyu says blah, blah, blah.
“Oh, I’m too busy making out with beomgyu that day.”
Alright, he didn’t exactly say that last part, but he may as well have. It was like he was in love with him or some shit. They even had their own inside jokes that you weren’t a part of already.
Now, you’re a pretty good people reader, priding yourself in being a good judge of character. You like to think you can mostly already tell whether you’ll like someone’s vibe and whether they were cool and nice and genuine from first meeting them. In your head, you’d already made up in your mind that this choi beomgyu guy was some slimy bitch trying to steal your close friend away from you. You just thought taehyun had terrible perception and couldn’t see how much of a snake this beomgyu guy really was. So, you were already adamant that once you met him, it’d only validate all the feelings you had towards him and then, you could tell taehyun he was evil and not to be trusted and taehyun would realise you were right and stop being friends with him. Balance restored.
Because, well, you were terrified. Terrified that you could lose the sole person who had always been there and understood you without translation, afraid of having to go through the rest of this scary adult life with that being taken away. This had never happened before. Beomgyu threatened all of that for you.
And then, you finally actually met beomgyu on the campus cafe one day. And you do admit, it was hard not to like him even when you absolutely didn’t want to at all. He wasn’t slimy or snakey or fake. He was alas, very likeable. Annoyingly, infuriatingly so. Warm and friendly and all unadulterated smiles.
He was genuinely delighted to meet you, like you were some kind of micro celebrity. “So you’re the famous childhood friend. Taehyun talks about you all the time. It’s so nice to finally meet you!” Beomgyu's eyes were shining.
You soon realised it was all one sided, all the territorial resentment was of your own invention, that he wasn’t trying to steal your best friend away from you, that taehyun wouldn’t replace you, and that you were being totally, completely childish. Beomgyu always greeted you kindly if he ever saw you on campus alone, he went out of his way to become friends with you too, whenever it was the three of you, he made sure to never exclude you, having this habit of always checking your expression mid conversation to see what you were thinking, and he remembered the smallest things you mentioned only once in passing. He soon wormed his way into your life too. You got it. You guess you liked this choi beomgyu guy as well now.
You concluded it wasn’t the case of taehyun being taken away from you, but that there was now one more person who loved taehyun unconditionally just as much as you did. And you definitely wouldn’t hate that person, because taehyun deserves an abundance of love. ‘Sharing is caring’ or whatever shit they say. In short, you got over it. You embraced choi beomgyu in your life too. But there’s still a limit to just how much choi beomgyu doses you can take in one go.
There’s loud banging on your door nine minutes later.
You open it and unsurprisingly, it’s beomgyu, a little breathless from the flight of stairs he had to go up, hair windswept and cheeks and nose slightly tinted pink from the cold, but he's clearly very excited. He breezes past you and throws his dirty backpack onto your desk, which you had just sanitised, and immediately starts pulling objects out of it, a tripod, a small camera, a ring light. Then, he pulls something else out of his bag with dramatic flair, some kind of obnoxious, glittery, pink box, holding it up proudly in front of you.
“Ouija board.” Beomgyu grins, breathing still heavy, wiggling his eyebrows.
Your gaze travels from the box to his face and back again. “And where’d you get that from?”
“I was at that shop on Croft Street.” He’s entirely pleased with himself.
You furrow your brows, trying to place what he’s talking about in your head, and then you nod. “Ohh,” you think you can picture it now, “the vintage antique place?”
Beomgyu hesitates for the tiniest second, rubbing at the back of his neck, gaze flicking away just briefly. “Erm, no. The one next to it.”
“There’s only the…-Wait, the sex shop??” Your voice jumps an octave. “What? I thought it closed down.”
Beomgyu shrugs, trying to maintaining his facade of confidence. “Well anyway, the lady, she gave it to me free with my purchase! Isn’t that so nice?”
“You bought something from there?”
He tilts his chin up in defence and puffs out his chest, expression shifting into a look of totally exaggerated dignity and defensiveness. “I can if I want to. I’m an adult. None of your business.”
Alright, fair. You shrug. “Why the hell would they be giving out ouija boards though? And why would you take it?”
“Beats me. But what’s free is free! Look how cool it looks!” He shoves it more into your face, beaming, waiting for you to agree too.
To be honest, nothing beomgyu does can surprise you that much anymore.
You let out the biggest melancholic sigh. “I miss taehyun.”
“So do I. At least he’d be giving me way better reactions than you are right now.” Beomgyu points a brow at you, disappointed with your lack of enthusiasm, but then his grin creeps back. “Anyway, this is going to be such a good video for my channel.”
Yes, his channel. A new interest of beomgyu’s, his most recent endeavour. He was now an aspiring youtuber. He'd already gained ten thousand subscribers actually, which he mentions a lot, but it was pretty impressive. People thought he was handsome, apparently, he also mentions that a lot. His goal though has been to get more followers and take the crown of the campus youtuber which currently resided to some other choi. Yeonjun, is his name you think. Truthfully, beomgyu is pretty good at making entertaining content, you've watched a few (all of them. You wouldn't tell him that though.) he was naturally so very hilarious and quick witted, you wondered how he managed to come up with such funny things to say at the right moment unscripted.
“What’s that gonna be?” You already had an inkling, you just wanted to hear it from his dumb mouth.
He’s pulling out his camera, setting it on the tripod and adjusting its height. “I’m holding a seance in your room. Okay the title,” he turns around to you, continuing excitedly with his hands in the air like he was presenting the headline right there. “We Contacted a Real Ghost in the Most HAUNTED Uni Accommodation Building. NOT clickbait. What d’you think?”
“It’s not actually haunted.” You snort.
“Didn’t some guy die like, years ago?” Beomgyu counters, “some fratboy going up the stairs drunk, slipped, and fell all the way down. Dead. That’s why everyone’s always scared to take the stairs after a night out.”
That is how the story goes. You’re pretty sure it’s fake. An urban legend recycled every year by the first years to scare each other. There’s no real news or evidence for it. “Yeah, but those are just rumours though.”
“Well, we’ll find out for sure today.” Beomgyu declares. “Now, do you have any candles?”
Both of you now sit cross-legged on your carpet floor with a circle of all the candles you own, the strong scents of all of them, mixing together and making your room have a strange amalgamation of smells that doesn’t really go well, the glittery pink ouija board placed in the middle of it and your room dimly lit, lights off, curtains drawn too for the aesthetic.
Beomgyu approves, satisfied and picks up the camera, shoving it into both of your faces. “Okay, make your most scared face. It’s for the thumbnail.” You comply, both of you making theatrical frightened faces, beomgyu fully committed to it, his features entirely contorting and making a silly face like he was crying, which you can’t help but giggle at a little.
He mounts the camera back onto the tripod, adjusting the lens with careful precision and then checks himself out, running a hand through his hair, content with how he looks. “Let us begin.” Beomgyu says in a weird, deep voice. He deviously smirks and presses play.
“Hey guys!” Beomgyu starts, switching into that slightly agitating content creator voice, his demeanour shifting. “Today we are investigating a real haunted university accommodation building! The legend goes that a student was walking up the stairs drunk after partying, slipped, fell all the way down and unfortunately died. Now they haunt the stairwell and all the students ever since…Today we’re here with one of the victims who has to endure all these hauntings on a daily basis. Tell me, how often is it that you hear strange noises and sounds? See figures?”
“Oh, uh, never.” You reply, staring blankly.
Beomgyu sighs exasperatedly at you, shoulders sagging, whispering. “You can’t just say that. This is content. Make some shit up!”
“Right, sorry.” You try again, clearing your throat and straightening your posture. “All the time. I’m so terrified.” You say gravely into the camera with widened eyes. “I can never fall asleep. I can hear their footsteps and breathing outside my door every single night.” You lean closer to the camera with a crazed face.
“oohh that’s good,” beomgyu says, delighted by your performance, clapping. “You’re actually a better actor than taehyun.” Beomgyu slowly pans the camera across your room. “Guys, just look at this place,” he whispers, “This room is definitely haunted. Look how old and musty it is. Woahh.”
You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms. “It’s not musty…” You mutter bitterly, taking offence. You just spent a long while trying to clean it too.
After beomgyu is done with his talking and grand introduction, briefly reading the rules it came with before tossing it away carelessly, you both stare at the ouija board, placing both your fingers on the planchette.
“If we get possessed, make sure to like and subscribe! Oh, and comment down below right now in five, four, three, two, one!” Beomgyu then turns to face you. “I’ve never used an ouija board before. Have you?”
You shake your head. “No.”
“Remember when it was trending back in the day? My mum never let me. I missed out big time.” he says faux solemnly, shaking his head, “but I’m reclaiming what was denied to me,” You have no idea what he’s going on about. “Okay,” he begins theatrically. “Spirits of this building. If you are here, please give us a sign.”
For a moment, nothing happens. You tilt your head despite yourself, trying to listen out, if you can hear anything abnormal, anything out of the blue.
“Is anyone here with us?” Beomgyu asks hopefully.
More silence. It stretches for long enough. The planchette remains perfectly still and the red recording light from the camera is still naively blinking like it was hoping to catch something too. You raise a brow unimpressed, but knowing this would obviously happen. You feel ridiculous, this whole thing is. You sigh, ready to give up already, not sure why you agreed in the first place-
But then, you feel a force, moving the planchette, dragging it beneath your fingers. Beomgyu gasps. As do you. The small triangular piece glides and stops over two simple letters.
H
I
Beomgyu’s jaw drops. “Oh my god! Guys, there’s someone with us! Hello! Thank you for joining us. Who are we speaking to?” The planchette moves again, dragging both your fingers along with it.
C
H
A
D
It spells out. You blink. Beomgyu blinks.
“Chad…” beomgyu says slowly. “Woah. Nice to meet you, chad.”
“How did you pass away?” You ask, sceptical, furrowing your brows and leaning forwards to the board.
S
T
A
I
R
S
Beomgyu slaps a hand to his mouth. “Holy shit, guys! It’s true. This is chad the fratboy! He really did slip and fall going up the stairs oh my god! This is crazy! We’re speaking to a fratboy ghost!” Beomgyu’s eyes sparkle with excitement, looking into the camera.
It slides once again, something else supposedly pushing the planchette.
U
2
S
I
N
G
L
E
?
You stare at him flatly, warning, “Beomgyu.”
“What? I’m not doing it.” Beomgyu then laughs awkwardly. “That’s a pretty weird thing to ask, chad. Haha…”
No, it’s obviously beomgyu doing this for the views. You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously, untrusting, but he’s looking down at the board with those pure glittering eyes of his with genuine fascination and awe. It’s not the first time you’ve assumed the worst of him when he’s been anything but. Still, maybe he’s just a good actor.
Chad, the ‘ghost’ tugs the triangular piece and moves across letters for another time.
I
M
H
O
R
N
Y
…
You pull your hands back immediately with a scoff, getting up from the floor in sheer disgust. “That’s it. You’re absolutely moving it.” This whole thing was ridiculous. You don’t know why you almost even believed it for a split second. Damn that boy with his sparkly eyes that almost fooled you.
“I swear it’s not me!”
“It’s literally you.” You grab a pillow from your bed, throwing it at beomgyu. He’s definitely messing with you.
He collapses onto the floor, cackling, throwing the pillow back at you. “Why the hell would I deliberately move it to ‘I’m horny’ ?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because you’re a very strange, very weird person?”
All of your candle flames in the circle suddenly flicker violently, causing both of you to snap your head back and look at the scene of the abandoned seance. The planchette begins to move, but on its own, erratically.
I
D
I
O
T
S
It feels as though there’s an immediate gust of chilling, cold wind in your room, but your window is firmly closed shut. The candles go all out, vanishing. It is all pitch black.
You scramble blindly for your light switch near you, flipping it on, the sudden flood of brightness stinging your eyes but relieving. You tremble, genuinely frightened and creeped out by whatever just happened.
Beomgyu swallows slowly. “….okay see?” He raises his hands in surrender. “It was not me.”
You reach over and flip the board upside down, absolutely done with it. “Seance over. Goodbye, chad.”
“That was…so sick!” Beomgyu blurts out, eyes wide. “I can’t believe we got that on video!”
You bite your nails, unsure what to do, freaking out, trying to process. That was weird. Super weird. Beomgyu, in comparison, seems pretty fine about it, just shocked and very thrilled at the prospect of catching a real ghost on camera, probably thinking that he’s definitely going to go viral with this.
The ghost didn’t seem that particularly threatening, it was just a fratboy, and some ghosts don’t have to be evil. But still, you’re pretty spooked out. Even more so since you’ve never believed in the supernatural. It never made sense to you, no actual proof, no logic to it. But you’d just seen that board move by itself with your own eyes. And even though you’ve never believed in it, you still never loved the horror genre, never a fan. You remember the first time you ever watched a horror film with taehyun at the age of ten. Both of you were scared shitless, deciding to sleep together with the lights on all night in the same bed because neither of you wanted to be alone. And you didn’t really want to be alone in your room now, knowing there was some spirit floating around in your building. You don’t think you’d be able to sleep at all. There’s no taehyun. But asking beomgyu to stay would be too humiliating for you.
It seems beomgyu notices your expression though, studying and checking you carefully. That attentive, perceptive, annoying habit of his where he can tell what you are thinking. He softens at the sight of you. “You know,” beomgyu says slowly, thoughtfully, “I’m…pretty creeped out right now.”
You look at him, surprised. “You are?”
“Totally.” Beomgyu scratches his head. “So uh…is it alright if I stay the night with you? I don’t really wanna go back by myself.”
“Yeah,” You nod instantly, without question, alleviated, the reply coming out of your mouth far too quickly. You clear your throat, trying to salvage some kind of dignity, “I have an air mattress.”
Beomgyu presses his lips together, trying not to smile. You really are so similar to taehyun in certain ways.
You lie in bed, flat on your back, restless, looking up towards the ceiling, still scared and paranoid.
Beomgyu is lying on the air mattress that you had inflated. It’s been three hours now. You still can’t sleep. You’re grateful that beomgyu is in the same room as you but you can’t see him at all since he’s below you, your bed frame raised higher. You still feel slightly alone. You kind of want him on the same bed as you. It would be a lot more comforting. But, you definitely cannot ask that.
An hour passes of you contemplating whether to ask beomgyu but it’s way too embarrassing.
Another half an hour passes by painfully slow, still not being able to sleep and thinking whether you should just ask beomgyu. You huff. You’ll just have to do it. Nobody else is going to do it for you. You cannot continue lying here all night having an internal debate with yourself, you think you might go crazy. You’ll just have to swallow your pride and simply say something.
“Beomgyu.” You call out lowly.
There’s a faint shift from the floor. “Hm?” You hear his response coming down from below, his voice deep.
“Are you awake?”
“I wouldn’t have replied if I was asleep now, would I?”
You roll your eyes even in the dark. “Shut up.”
Beomgyu quietly chuckles. “What do you want?”
You brace yourself. You hate this. “Will you…will you…sleep on the bed with me?” Ew. You recoil and immediately consider wrapping yourself in your blanket and throwing yourself out the window.
There’s a pause. Then rustling as beomgyu gets up. “Okay.”
Surprisingly, he doesn’t make fun of you. But, it’s not like your scared behaviour is unreasonable. The ghost was real. Not the most intimidating, a weird one named Chad, but still. It was creepy. Especially since you had never believed in them before.
Beomgyu just quietly lifts the covers up and lays beside you once you scoot towards the edge near the wall, making space for him. Your bed isn’t the biggest, so his shoulders bump gently against yours. You feel his warm presence and body immediately, feeling better and less jumpy.
“Thanks,” you mumble, a little sheepishly.
Beomgyu shifts slightly beside you, getting comfortable under the covers. “It’s alright,” he whispers gently.
You manage to get the littlest of sleep, a sliver of sleep, but at least it was something. You wake up in the morning to the faint sound of your bathroom door opening and closing, beomgyu had just gone in, space beside you empty, you feel the absence of his body on your mattress instantly. It’s colder.
You yawn and stretch your limbs from how cramped you were last night, but you immediately sense something strange. You feel some kind of weird…weight between your legs. It must be something from your shelf that fell off onto your bed and made its way under your covers, or something. You reach down, grabbing to pick it up, but it doesn’t move. It’s attached to you almost. You’re still tired and drowsy, eyes still bleary. You don’t know what the hell is going on and why this weird feeling object won’t move. You sit up, still confused. You try to pull it again, harder. It’s somehow attached to your skin? With a frown and a growing sense of unease, you move the covers off you and lift the waistband of your pyjama bottoms. You think you see something.
WHAT
THE
HOLY FUCK?!
You scream out in pure terror at what you see. At the exact same time, beomgyu screams from the bathroom, high pitched and shrill-like. The both of you screaming simultaneously for a very, very prolonged time.
This isn’t real. This can’t be real. You’re definitely still dreaming. This is not real. It can’t be. There’s no way in hell this is real. It’s impossible!
Beomgyu slams the bathroom door open with a bang, running out. His face is pale, disbelieving, mortified. “MY DICK. IT’S…I-IT’S GONE!” He looks like he’s seen a ghost, but that was yesterday and this is far worse somehow.
“I HAVE A DICK!”
You stare at each other dumbfounded, eyes wide and mouths dropping to the floor.
“WHAT?!” Both of you say at the same time again.
“I woke up with a penis!” You tell him, gesturing downwards, seeing if any of this exchange of information would help and make this make sense.
“I went to go piss and…a-and there was nothing there! I-i I have a-a vagina!” Beomgyu’s voice cracks, he looks like he’s about to weep.
“Right.” You rub your temples, trying to digest any of this, inhaling deeply, seeing you had to step in as the calm one, “Okay. Okay. We have to think about this…logically.”
Beomgyu gapes at you like you’ve lost your mind, “there’s NOTHING logical about this! At all!” He lets out an anguished cry.
You pace around your room, trying to think hard. “What did we do? What have we done that’s different?”
“The ouija board…”
Oh, right. That is really the only thing both of you have done that is different. And if ghosts existed now, you’re not that surprised if any of this can happen too. This has to be connected to it. “Do you think Chad cursed us or some shit?”
Beomgyu also frowns, deep in thought with a pout. “Nah, it can’t be. Why would he do that to us? He seemed nice.”
“He called us idiots.”
“As a term of endearment!” Beomgyu defends passionately for some reason. “I really don’t think we did anything to anger him. Maybe because I got it from a sex shop, it’s like a sex ouija board. It’s...freaky? Freaky…magic? Maybe it’s not actually chad. Chad seemed pretty nice. Just a horny guy. But hey, he hasn’t been able to have sex in years.”
You groan and flop back onto your bed in a crisis. “Shit, man. What should we do?”
Beomgyu ignores you. He’s too busy clasping both his hands together, eyes shut and whispering hysterically near your window. “I have a dick I have a dick I have my dick back I have a dick. I have my dick back I have my dick back I have a dickihaveadickihave a dickihave a dick.”
You sit up slightly to watch him, eyebrow raised. “What the fuck are you doing?”
He shoots you a glare, “I’m manifesting my precious organ back,” then he returns back to his desperate affirmations, repeating the words so intensely like a mad man.
“I don’t think that’s how it works.”
“I say we call taehyun.” Beomgyu suggests, crazed, turning around to your already defeated form, laying spread out on the bed.
“Uh, why?” That sounds like a terrible idea.
He shrugs. “He’s good at magic tricks and all that magic shit. He’ll know what to do.”
“WHAT the fuck, no. He’s not going to know. I’m not asking him. He wouldn’t even know. We are not telling him any of this.”
“He might!”
You give beomgyu an incredulous look. “He does card tricks, bro. That shit’s not going to help.”
You knit your brows and grab your phone, frantically typing into the search bar different variations of your situation. Seeing it written out is beyond absurd and unsurprisingly, no matter how many ways you try to word it, there’s just nothing there. There’s no explanation and this has never happened to anyone else online ever.
From time to time you glance down at it, checking to see if it is still really there and not just both you and beomgyu experiencing some mass hallucination. It is always still there. Your anatomy is still switched.
Beomgyu also taught you how to piss standing up in the meantime, which was a lot harder than it looks to be honest.
The two of you sit on your bed in stunned silence in the aftermath of the discovery and shock, staring off, lost in doomed thought. Because, genuinely what were you supposed to do? What if this is permanent?
“Here.” You snap out of it, refusing to spiral, reaching into your drawer and pulling out one of your lacy, pink frilly panties, handing it to beomgyu.
Beomgyu raises a brow at you, staring at them like they’re going to blow up in his face.
You roll your eyes. “Oh my god, just take them. They’ll be more comfortable.”
He slowly reaches out and hesitantly takes them. Beomgyu’s entire face heats up, turning the colour of a ripe tomato, it’s almost impressive how quickly it happens. He clears his throat. “Do you want my boxers?”
You glance down at him and then back up. “The one’s you’re wearing?”
He nods.
You gag. “Eugh. No, that’s disgusting.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because you’re wearing them!”
He opens his mouth to argue but stops and sighs. “Ugh. Fine, i’ll get you new ones…”
Beomgyu rushes back to his place, running out with his hands covering in between his legs as if anyone would notice and quickly gets some boxers for you, returning swiftly. They’re much more comfortable and they fit better for your new organ at least, but were you supposed to just accept this now? No, you’re just adapting. You’ve always been an adaptable person. You just have to adapt to this situation for now, yes. It’s the best way to react.
Beomgyu comes back from using the bathroom, cheeks dusted pink. “Peeing is still super weird…” he mumbles.
He pulls up his jeans, tugging and wriggling them into place with a small frown, but from the way your underwear is resting on his hips, they’re still so visible, the lacey fabric being seen.
You get distracted by the sight. The way the soft pink fabric sits against his hips, delicate and out of place against his usual style. It does something weird to you. A flicker of something passes through your mind, uninviting, you sharply look away, swallowing. But, you form some kind of sick idea, gears turning in your brain. It’s not a good idea, you know it isn’t.
“Okay, I’m going to be honest. And you need to hear me out…” You start slowly, testing, cautious.
“What?” Beomgyu asks, curious, but very suspicious.
You shift awkwardly on the bed, trying to think of a way to say this out loud that sounds less insane than it currently does in your head.
You take a breath, hesitating. “I think…”
Beomgyu watches you with narrowed eyes, waiting for you to continue saying whatever it is you have to say.
“…We should fuck.”
There is a long silence where he just stares at you blankly as if he didn’t hear you right, then his face twists into absolute bafflement.
“Excuse me?! Are you mental?!” Beomgyu squawks.
You hold your hands up in defence at his reaction. “Not because I want to!”
His eyes widen. “That’s not much of a reassuring clarification!”
“I-i mean-not that I don’t want to—!”
“WHAT?”
Fuck. You grasp at straws, trying to defend yourself. It made sense in your head! “Maybe it will be reversed like that! You said it yourself, maybe this is like…freaky magic!”
“What if it makes it permanent?!” Beomgyu shoots back instantly, making a horrified expression at the thought.
You pause. It’s not a possibility you had considered. Your eyes flicker around your room in thought, falling down to the pink glittery board still on your carpet floor. “Wait, we can ask chad! He has to know something.”
You pull out the ouija board and the two of you impatiently set up everything for it, sitting crosslegged once again. You place both your fingers onto the planchette and ask for the frat ghost once more.
“Are you with us, chad?” Beomgyu asks.
There’s a few minutes of silence, finally, he appears.
Y
E
S
You exhale slowly through your nose. “Did you curse us, chad?”
N
A
H
“Then who did?” You turn to beomgyu’s face with an exasperated sigh. “Do you know how to reverse it?” The planchette drags slowly across the board, almost playfully if that were possible.
M
A
Y
B
E
It’s not entirely an answer. You and beomgyu exchange an irritated look, trying not lose your temper over this dead frat boy. “If we…” you clear your throat awkwardly, “fuck, could we possibly go back to normal?” It moves immediately over the letters this time, almost enthusiastically.
Y
E
S
You take your fingers off with resignation. “There’s our answer…”
The planchette suddenly starts moving on its own again, something chad clearly likes doing. Both of you flinch.
F
U
C
K
“Oh my god…I hate this chad guy.” You mutter.
Beomgyu folds his arms across his chest with a grimace. “I’m beginning to hate him too now.”
You fold the board up and shove it into one of your drawers on your desk, wanting it out of your sight. The room falls uncomfortably quiet and heavy. Beomgyu does not make eye contact with you as he fiddles with the sleeve of his hoodie. You can tell he’s thinking about it though and you’re thinking about it more too. You bite your nails, turning to look at beomgyu, at the soft pink sitting across his cheeks, at the strips of lace still visible above the waistband of his jeans. Honestly, you are curious. And apparently it will work if you both do it so…it’s worth a try. There’s nothing else you can do. This seems logical to you, or as logical as it can get in this situation.
“I’ve lowkey always wondered what it would be like to have a dick.” You cut through the silence.
Beomgyu finally looks up at you, scandalised.
“What? I have.” You shrug. “Come on,” you continue, sitting up straighter. “You’ve never been curious to what it feels like? What sex feels like from the other side?”
He looks deeply conflicted. “This is the weirdest shit…” beomgyu murmurs.
“Well, yes, but no one has ever had this opportunity before.”
Beomgyu chews the inside of his cheek as he contemplates. You leave him to it. Because, whilst you are sort of strangely game to this, you know beomgyu is not. It’s his call.
You wait for a while to see what beomgyu will decide as he still chews the inside of his cheek, staring down at his lap. Then finally, he gives a tiny, nervous nod. “Fuck it. Let’s just do it. Let’s have sex,” he’s looking at you now with a strange mix of embarrassment and determination.
“Okay,” you reply, exhaling a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. You sit up a bit straighter, like that might make you seem more composed than you feel. “Okay.”
Beomgyu nods again, slower this time. “Okay,” he echoes, though it sounds less confident.
“Maybe we should…kiss?” You suggest, wincing almost.
“Why?”
“To…get us going?” you offer, even less certain now, your voice trailing slightly at the end. You clear your throat.
“Oh, uh, okay.”
“Okay.”
The two of you move onto the bed awkwardly, sitting opposite one another on top of the duvet. And suddenly everything feels much stranger and worse. Because it was one thing when it was all hypothetical, but now, actually sitting here, knees nearly touching, looking at each other like this and so close, is different. You don’t think either of you have ever really looked at each other like this before. You’ve never looked at beomgyu this up close and so intimately before, close enough to see the pretty mole near his mouth. The pair of you sit there for a few seconds in unbearable silence doing absolutely nothing, both of you too scared to actually start anything.
You eventually make a move first, mostly because if you do not, you think the two of you might actually stay frozen here forever. Your hand lifts awkwardly to his heated cheek, fingers brushing lightly against his skin. Beomgyu goes very still. You stare down at his lips and he does the same, nervously wetting them and then swallowing.
Awkwardly, hesitantly, you press your lips with his, brief, testing. Your lips barely brush before both of you pull back a little too quickly, recoiling. You try to kiss again before you can overthink it. It is so awkward, obviously, in the way that comes with clearly crossing a line between the both of you. But his lips are soft, very soft, perfectly soft. Yet, it’s not that surprising, they’d always seemed like it whenever you’d watched beomgyu’s lips move in a pout when he talked passionately or argued back about something, fascinated by it. His lips had an annoyingly pretty shape to them.
Gradually, some of the awkwardness thins out, dissolving and melting somewhere between some kisses and the next kisses. Until you’re not really thinking about it anymore, starting to get a little lost in beomgyu’s soft lips, your mouth caught between kissing his plush bottom lip, deeper, becoming much easier. Now, you’re making out with Choi beomgyu. Making out with your best friend’s other best friend. Never would you have thought this would happen, but maybe kissing beomgyu wasn’t the weirdest thing right now. Seriously, how did the most unlikely events manage to happen to you in the span of less than twenty four hours?
It’s getting to the both of you now, all the messy kissing, your faces tilting and moving in opposite directions continuously as you move your lips against each other, both of you kiss-drugged. It’s certainly getting you worked up, increasingly harder to think through, more fervent, your hands are in his hair, beomgyu is pulling you in closer by the back of your neck, then his hands go to your waist, gripping. You can feel the warmth of his breath between every kiss and the way he exhales shakily whenever you kiss him with more intensity. Making out with beomgyu is surprisingly very, very pleasant.
And when your mouth drifts from his lips, down to his jaw, brushing softly against the side of his neck, you feel him shiver. You start kissing his neck instead, sucking, leaving sloppy open mouthed kisses, beomgyu tips his head back, very into it, all of it going to his pretty little head, letting out little whimpers as you suck more and more, kissing the same sensitive spots on his pretty neck over and over.
His fogged up brain allows you unbutton his jeans, unzipping them and letting you put your hand down them, slightly, slowly rubbing at his pussy through the lace underwear he's wearing, still focused on completely attacking his neck too. The effect is immediate, beomgyu positively squirms and lets out a shy little noise, grabbing to hold onto you more, hiding his face in your shoulder as he continues to whimper shakily the more you rub his folds through the panties. It doesn't take long at all until you can feel the material completely soaked, even catching on your fingers.
You pull away to tug beomgyu's jeans completely off him, leaving him only in your pink panties and his grey hoodie. The second he realises how exposed he is, he shuts his legs closed, his entire face completely red, his neck and ears too.
"Are you gonna let me see? Please?" You ask and tilt your head, cooing softly at how embarrassed beomgyu is. "I'm sure it's pretty." That doesn't really help, beomgyu just lets out an annoyed whine at you and his face somehow becomes even more red.
You place your hands onto his milky, smooth thighs instead, moving back and forth over them. "Come onn, gyu. I'll play with your pussy right. I’m the one who’ll know better. Don't you wanna know what it feels like? Your vagina needs me. She's drenched. She wants me." You can't help but burst out laughing.
"Oh, shut up.” Beomgyu rolls his eyes despite how embarrassed he is, voice going all high and whiny, playfully kicking you. But after a moment, he quietly speaks up, “f-fine…touch me.” He brings his hands to his face to hide.
“You’re okay with it?”
Beomgyu nods slowly, still hiding his face. “Feels like I-i need it, need something…” he mumbles quietly, confused. It’s so cute.
“Okay,” you gently part beomgyu’s legs, he covers his face even more in his hands at this, slightly closing his legs on instinct but you push them wider. And you’re right, he’s completely soaked your panties, they’re so wet that you can see the outline of his folds through them, they’re basically transparent now.
You suck a breath at the sight, desperate to see fully. You push the cloth to the side, beomgyu’s newly attained pussy on display and you’re almost in awe, because it’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen, with delicate folds and a small clit peeking out from under it’s hood. It’s glistening, almost shining with slick too. You can’t take your eyes off beomgyu’s pussy. You swallow hard, mouth watering like you’ve just stepped into a clearing with a beautiful waterfall in a forest. It’s so pretty just like the rest of him.
“So perfect…” You gently trace his pussy lips with your fingers, grazing the entrance and then circling his clit but not touching it directly. Beomgyu takes in a breath, trembling at the light touching, horrified with shame, trying and failing not to react so strongly. He feels a throb inside, at the bottom of his tummy, some kind of itch he knows he himself can’t scratch, he feels this overwhelming kind of feeling, needing it to be taken care of. He peeks just to look a little at you through his fingers, stomach heaving erratically, his body reacting so needily.
You watch him as he does this. “Are you going to keep hiding?”
“It’s embarrassing.” Beomgyu groans dramatically and drops his head back against the wall behind him.
“It’s not that embarrassing. Take your hands away.” He does actually take them away from his face with a grumble, unsure what to do with his hands now, keeping them balled up on the mattress.
You tug the panties off him. As much as they do look good on him, they were irritating you now. You wanted to see more of him, all of him. Once they’re finally off, you trace gently once more and beomgyu exasperatedly sighs.
“Do something more!” Beomgyu complains, bucking his pelvis into your hand, whining.
“Chill, dude. I’m just trying to get you used to the feeling of having a vagina. It could be too much.”
“Well I’m used to it now.” Beomgyu snaps back.
You sneer at him, mouth twitching. “Tch, you’re annoying as hell.”
“So are you.”
“I’m just helping you.”
“Helping me? We need to fuck to be normal again! It’s not like I want this.”
“I don’t know, seems like you want it.”
“I-i don’t.”
“Your pussy says different.” You lightly give it a slap and then rub the folds soothingly. Beomgyu yelps, wide eyed, shuddering, but it’s clear it arouses him. You see his hole clenching and unclenching at that.
You can’t help but grin a little. Mangled, startled mewls slipping out from beomgyu as you continue to lightly slap at his wet pussy over and over again until his clit is fully throbbing and his folds are so puffy and pink. He looks absolutely wrecked already, despite how little you have actually done. His cheeks are flushed a deep pink, chest rising and falling in uneven little breaths beneath the oversized hoodie, slipping off one shoulder and exposing the tank top he’s wearing underneath.
“Please. Need something in it. Please.” Beomgyu gasps, a singular tear falling slowly, elegantly down one of his cheeks. Maybe you are being a bit too harsh with the teasing. With your thumb, you brush the tear away looking up at beomgyu’s teary, simmering, gorgeous doe brown eyes, some of his lashes clumped with unshed tears. You feel almost sorry.
“Aww, sorry. Just can’t help but play with the pretty doll.”
“Y/nnnn.” Beomgyu whines out heavily at you, pleadingly, brows scrunching up frustratedly. So finally, you bring the pads of your fingers to circle his hole, dipping one finger slowly into him, moving the littlest in and out. Beomgyu lets out a soft whimper and when you’re bored of just one, you add a second finger inside him. It slides easily in with an audible squelch, beomgyu winces, embarrassed at sounds he didn’t think his body would produce. You carry on pumping your fingers in at a pleasant pace, watching beomgyu’s reactions intently, loving how sensitive and reactive and new he is to all of this. It’s a lot for him already. But you’re also curious to taste his magical pussy. So bad.
“Why’d you do that—ahhhh!”
You remove your fingers completely out of him in one go, grabbing under his thighs and shoving your face into him instead, taking in the scent of his sweet, magical pussy and then sticking your tongue flat out, licking a sudden stripe on his slit, lapping at the stickiness. It’s like honey. Beomgyu tastes so good, you want to eat and eat and lick until you physically can’t, until your teeth rots from how sweet and yummy and addictive he tastes.
You tongue fuck him too, twisting, trying to reach deep. Every time your tongue drags over him, his body jerks. You decide to pay attention to beomgyu’s currently neglected clit, flicking your tongue over and over rabidly. Beomgyu nearly jumps out of his skin at this, not anticipating the raw nerves there and it is so intense, more than anything he’s ever experienced.
You decide to wrap your entire lips around the bundle of nerves instead, harshly sucking until they’re even more swollen.
“O-oh my godd- !” Beomgyu cries, flustered, taking a sharp intake of breath, screwing his eyes shut at the overwhelming sensation, his hands immediately flying to cover his face yet again. You bring the two sticky fingers back, stuffing them back into beomgyu’s cunt, pistoning them in and out and continuing to suck on beomgyu’s overly sensitive clit. His full lips are parted in an ‘o’ shape, mouth agape, prettiest choked up cries coming out of them, brows knitted together, head reeling back as well as his eyes. Beomgyu is sopping, you feel the new wave of slick every single time you push your fingers back in him. Every slight curl of your fingers making his thighs twitch. You also start a scissoring motion with the two fingers inside, spreading him open, making him squirm so much, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. There’s something almost helpless about him now.
Beomgyu shifts restlessly against the bed, shaking, clearly trying to deal with the strange, feeling building inside him. “I-I I think I’m gonna come!” You’re obsessed. You drag beomgyu down even more to eat him out at a closer, better angle, feasting on his pretty cunt, hungrily, mouth, tongue moving frantically, making your own muffled groans against his flesh that no doubt send vibrations through his already overwhelmed body, going out of his mind with need.
Beomgyu falls apart easily with a strangled cry, tears spilling over his red apple cheeks, fighting against your hold. His hips buck so much into your face as he orgasms, you think he nearly breaks your nose, but you don’t care, his legs trembling and clenching at the sides of your face, a slush of juices gushing and flooding out of his already drenched cunt. You’re genuinely mesmerised by it all, lapping all the juices up, slurping it all clean.
“T-too muchh!” Beomgyu shakes at the overstimulation, squealing and whining slightly painfully.
The sheer intensity of it leaves beomgyu breathless and in shock, utterly undone as he pants, and pants in a daze, red in the face, having never felt like that before. “Jesus fucking christ. People with vaginas have orgasms like this?”
You huff out a quiet laugh. “Yeah lol. Why? It’s much more different?”
Beomgyu nods, still panting, trying to breathe regularly. “Uh huh.”
You push your soaked fingers out of his cunt, tapping them together to watch the thick strings connect like webs.
You bring them to beomgyu’s pretty mouth. “Wanna taste your pretty pussy?” Beomgyu does so without a fight, wrapping his swollen, glossy and round lips to them, sucking your fingers dry, looking up at you with those pure sparkling eyes through his doll-like lashes, fluttering his eyelids like a slut. You don’t know if it’s purposeful.
It’s only now you notice the rush of blood to your dick. You’re hard as hell, you were too focused on beomgyu to think of anything else. But it feels even heavier, aching, straining. You need to fuck him so bad.
“Can we fuck?” You ask him.
“A-alright.” Beomgyu gulps, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.
You rid yourself of your own clothes, taking ahold of your length in your hands, bringing yourself closer to beomgyu’s body. You close your eyes and inhale and exhale a number of times, trying to calm yourself, firstly, slapping the length lightly on his folds. Beomgyu seems to be in the same predicament, trying to calm himself down too, he’s staring down at the scene carefully, feeling his face heat up, cheeks burning.
You start to rub your cock on beomgyu’s cunt, rubbing the slitted tip from his entrance and up to his clit, focused more on the friction with the head and clit together. The tip now stuck with strings of beomgyu’s sweet slick, is much more sensitive than the rest of it and you shiver at the feeling, both you and beomgyu gasping at them rubbing and sliding slippery against each other.
“Okay…I’m gonna put it in. Is that okay?” You brace yourself, mentally preparing for it. Suddenly, you’re reminded that this is actually a one of a kind, very awkward situation to be in.
Beomgyu nods, bottom lip caught between his teeth, he’s bracing himself too. “Yeah, okay.”
Slowly, you bring the head of the cock to his wet, eager hole, pushing it in, stretching out the delicate ring of skin at the entrance until it pops completely in with a small, moist, squelching noise, both of you gutturally groaning out. You wait a little until attempting to push in the rest of the girth inside, inch by inch, watching his face attentively as you carefully ease the rest in. You stop once you do this, allowing him and you to get used to it.
“You okay?” You brush the strands of messy hair away from beomgyu’s eyes.
Beomgyu is stuffed. He nods, blushing so hard and face flushed so much he practically looks feverish, whole face somehow going even redder, which just shouldn’t be physically possible at this point at all.
It’s so warm and soft and slippery, the length being fully tucked inside.
“You can move.” Beomgyu breathes out.
So, apprehensively, you begin to test the waters. You pull all the way back out and then sheath it all the way back in the tight but softly delicate space, the searing friction at this causing you to shudder, lips parting at the feeling. “Oh…”
“Fffuu.” Beomgyu dulcetly whimpers too, it’s hard to get used to, stretched out so much, feeling everything side, every ridge of the length.
You begin a pace of leisurely rocking in and out of beomgyu’s cunt, watching the way the pretty pussy swallows your new dick whole, enveloping it each time, the motion of pushing and pulling creating more intense feelings for you.
“You’re taking it so well,” you murmur lowly and strained, trying not lose yourself in the pleasure of fucking slow into beomgyu’s goopy, gorgeous, spongey pussy.
He’s still quietly whimpering and you can practically see him trying to make sense of what he is feeling until his expression changes as he realises just how good it feels, allowing himself to relax and succumb to it.
It’s a new sensation. Being the one to fuck into rather than fucked into. You try to hit further, deeper inside beomgyu at a different angle, giving an experimental thrust. He instantly moans out loud and pretty to your ears, his toes curling.
“How does it feel, gyu?”
“Weird. I-i feel so full. Feels good.” Beomgyu barely squeaks out. His pouted lips stay parted, the prettiest little sounds spilling out every few seconds with each push in no matter how much he tries to hold them back, spreading his legs thoughtlessly even wider, both of his hands now coming to rest underneath his thighs.
“H-how does it feel for you?” Beomgyu looks up at you, curiously, thick eyelashes fluttering every time you move just right, voice trembling.
“Mm. Feels really good too.” You nod, knitting your brows, lips pressed together in concentration, gritting your teeth, fucking into his gummy walls, deeper, harder, staring down where your bodies connect, his ripe pussy just sucking you in, seeing how deep it goes every time, so greedy and hungry, growing more wet and sticky between you both.
You start to move more confidently without realising it, hips snapping into his with sticky sounds that follow. You’re sweating, it’s tiring, but it feels so good. It’s so hard to think about anything else anymore, it’s just alll consuming. You can see it on beomgyu’s pretty face too, so debauched, glistening with sweat too, mellifluously whining continuously.
“Fuck, y/nn!-ughhhgh!”
You lift one of beomgyu’s legs up by his dainty ankle, holding it straight against you, the new angle allowing you to bury yourself even deeper in his mystical cunt, against his cervix, sickeningly enjoying the way he cries out at this. The position is far more vulnerable for him and beomgyu looks so hot like this, flustered, body jolting and bouncing along with every ram into him, your dick splitting him open. You love it.
Beomgyu is so fucked out, eyes hooded in ecstasy, dumbly drooling, soft long hair messy and splayed, red, sweaty, button nose scrunched up, biting his glossed full lips raw, you can feel the one leg you have up, shaking, like a pretty fawn. He makes another helpless sound.
“Such a—mhmm-pretty girl…” Fucking beomgyu like this is getting to you, your brain is so pussydrunk, you’re just murmuring any shit as you pound beomgyu’s obscenely puffy, glistening pussy. It’s taking everything in you not to cum so soon.
Beomgyu whines with furrowed brows and a tremor. “I’m not a girl!”
“Come on. You already look like a—hahhh-girl, beomgyu. Maybe you should have a pussy all the time, keep you fucked all the time. I wouldn’t mind.” You meanly laugh.
Beomgyu cries, embarrassed, shaking his head, but he’s quite literally moaning out like a girl right now, so incredibly loud and high pitched and airy compared to his usual deep voice.
You grin suspiciously wide at him, and then you grab a hold of his other leg, folding them both over his chest to plow into him even more, your dick carving and curving up inside of him beyond deeper, hitting such a sweet spot for him, tearing a sudden, alarmed moan to rip out from beomgyu’s mouth.
“Look at you…you love this, beomgyu, being fucked and full like a girl. Don’t you?” You cruelly slap his mushy clit raw and red as you fuck him faster, barely holding off your orgasm. You’re not used to how quickly the sensation builds, immediate. You’re not going to last long. You quickly bring your thumb to beomgyu’s clit, rubbing over it fast, knowing it will do it for him. “You love having a pussy, don’t you?”
Beomgyu’s body arches, writhing, hands twisting in the sheets, full on sobbing, pretty tears streaming down his hot face. “I do, I do! Shitshit-ohhmygod!” Beomgyu completely convulses, spasming, eyes rolling to the back of his head, pussy fluttering clamping down so hard on your cock, long waves of pleasure completely crashing over him as you watch his pussy give out and squirt all over, juices surging, flowing, cascading out of him gorgeously. The sight of beomgyu squirting and clenching around you completely does it for you as you moan out too, cursing, giving one last, hard ram into his cunt until you feel yourself go over the edge too, his magical cunt making you cum so hard you genuinely see stars, filling beomgyu’s hole to the brim, overflowing, stuffed with your cum that you can see a white creamy ring around your dick.
You pull out with a shudder, watching the way your cum oozes and gloops out from his sensitive hole, his pussy completely wrecked. You don’t think his hole can give out anymore cum but it still slowly drips out of him like pearly beads, like pretty pearls from clam shells. You’re so entranced. “Holy fuck…”
Beomgyu completely melts into the sheets, drained, exhausted, boneless, dry tear stains on his pink cheeks. He’s looking up at you so dreamily, so content and satisfied from being fucked.
“I think that was like, the most intense orgasm I’ve had in my entire life. What the actual fuck.” Beomgyu states with very laboured breathing.
You can’t help but kiss his soft lips sweetly again and he kisses you back. “You genuinely did so good, beomgyu. I got a bit carried away, sorry.” You sheepishly tell him.
Beomgyu hides his face in his hands again, tips of his cute ears turning red. “It’s okay. I…liked it.” For a moment, both of you just pant, laying on the bed, but then beomgyu speaks up timidly. “If we go back to normal tomorrow, should we…fuck again?”
Your eyebrows raise in surprise, before you’re grinning again. “Hell yeah,” having absolutely not had your fill of his pussy just yet. You figured you may as well if it will all disappear in the morning.
Now, you’re pushing beomgyu’s face into your pillow, his ass up in the air as you spread his pretty pussy apart, watching the way it’s still dripping, you push your thumb a little in the hole, watching it still twitch and clench, still wanting more, so greedy. Beomgyu’s head is tilted, one side of his cheek smooshed into the pillow to look at you from behind eagerly.
“Come onnnn.” He whines out brattily, so impatient.
You lightly spank his little ass before digging your nails into his hips and slamming your dick inside once more, pounding into his delicious, succulent, messy cunt once again as beomgyu cries out muffled underneath, drooling onto your pillow, rocking his hips like a whore to meet your thrusts, fucking your cum and his juices back in.
You don’t know how long you guys go at it for but you’re ripping multiple, countless orgasms out of beomgyu, pushing his delicate body into different positions like the pretty doll he is, spurting cum multiple times inside his pussy and all over his pretty body, because you may as well, it’s quite a once in a lifetime thing, savouring how it feels to fuck his cunt and every pretty noise that comes out of his mouth, continuing to fuck the daylights out of him.
Both of you wake up in the morning to your genitalia, thankfully, or perhaps unthankfully, indeed, back to normal. Chad the ghost was actually right.
Both of you go back to Croft Street to return the freaky ouija board to the sex shop beomgyu purchased it from, not wanting to deal with anymore paranormal activity, fine with what experience you have. But, when you stand in front of the sex shop with beomgyu, it has in fact, been closed for months now, boarded up and was definitely not open because you found out the owner had died a while back, hence why it was shut down. Neither of you try to think about that.
Instead, you sell it to the vintage antique place next door, someone else can deal with that. You also make sure not to reapply to that accommodation building next year and to go elsewhere. Beomgyu uploads the YouTube with the salvageable footage he had left and it goes viral. He becomes the number one famous campus youtuber like he wanted and gains many more subscribers. He doesn’t stop talking about it. Not once.
When taehyun finally returns back from his semester abroad, you and beomgyu decide to surprise him at the airport together, running to hug taehyun’s shocked face once he comes out of the arrivals terminal, he’s so touched he nearly cries, but he swears he didn’t even have tears in his eyes.
Now, all three of you are sitting in a cafe at the airport with drinks.
“I watched the video you guys did together. It was super good. It’s a funny skit. Love how you guys managed to make it look so real.” Taehyun says, watching you both.
“Haha. Thanks.” Beomgyu forces a laugh, slurping his milkshake.
“So you guys had some bonding time whilst I was gone then?” Taehyun asks, curiously.
Both you and beomgyu splutter on your straws. Beomgyu starts actually choking so much that you have to hit at his back. “Y-yeah…!” He manages eventually, eyes watering.
You rub at your neck. “You could say that.”
A/n: idk how this reads i didnt proof read I’m so sorry if everyone hates this. I wanted to be more creative 😭 it was very interesting to write smut with the reader having a dick since ive never written that before, I’ll admit I had a bit of difficulty trying to write in that pov 😭😭 upside down kiss - txt is absolutely the song for this fic 😼😼 I recommend. Babygirl let’s get freaky.
Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys 😭 if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s incredibly discouraging and disappointing when fics have such little reblogs. At least send an anon in the inbox if you don’t want to rb, don’t just like. Feedback is always appreciated it makes writers want to actually write more :)
소유... dom!possessive reader, lightsmut, spitting, aggression, mentions of riding, few verbal exchanges. yeah, I guess that's all.
soobin let's out a groan when his back hits the bed.
“fucking stay”. you grown, your hands pressed into his chest.
he can't blink. he's too dazed for that. and with the heat of your thighs on top of him... yeah, he really can't think.
so as your legs lock his lap, his hands become sweaty and lost. but he knows you won't let him touch you. so he squeezes them, unsure where to place them.
“don't fucking do it”, you already warned him. he nods in agreement. tho he wants to sculpt you waist so bad.
you move forward, rubbing just a bit of his cock through his shorts. he moans. “do you want this pussy?”
“uhum”
“uhum?”
you lift it up, improving the friction. “yes!”
you pinch both of his cheeks, witnessing his eyes shining. “open”
he immediately opens his mouth with another moan, and you retrieve some saliva and spit it inside. he swallows. then he get startled by a hard slap you give him across the face.
his face turns red. he doesn't quite understand why you're taking it out on him, but it must be something very frustrating that you couldn't handle alone.
take it on him. he loves you too much. hit him until your hands go crazy.
Everyone’s obsessed with big cocks.
"Guys getting ruined over massive dicks" this, "size kink supremacy” that. Like size is some kind of fucking contest. Like only a giant cock can break a sub.
Fuck that noise.
He’s never had anything in there before — no cock, no fingers, no toys — nothing but his own fingers fumbling, fingers too shy to go deeper. So when you slide that tiny little toy inside, barely three inches of semi-hard silicon, you watch his body fall apart.
His eyes go wide, breath catches, and then it’s all trembling limbs and whispered cries he can’t control.
He swears he can take it. Laughs it off like a joke — but it’s not.
You push it in just a little more.
His whole body jerks. His hips snap back like he’s trying to escape something, but he can’t. Not yet.
That little toy is a devil in disguise — meant to prep him, to train him for what’s really coming. But right now? He’s ruined. Sobbing soft little whimpers because he’s so fucking full of something he barely even registers as real.
He clenches around it like it’s ripping him in half, legs shaking so badly you’re sure he’s about to collapse.
“P-please, s-stop… I-I can’t—” he chokes out, voice trembling, barely a whisper. “I’m — i-it’s too — too much…”
And it’s not even three fucking inches inside him.
He’s already torn, stretched raw, dripping around you like he’s been wrecked by your actual size. The thought of a bigger dick? No fucking way. He’d be shredded, a bloody mess, broken beyond repair.
But here he is.
His little hole clenches tight, desperate to squeeze it out, but it’s no use. He’s ruined.
“J-just… slow… please…?” he begs, voice cracking. “I-I never… n-never had this b-before. It hurts — b-but I want it! I want you… I’m yours, p-please…”
Bullshit. You know he isn’t ready. That’s why you’re here.
You drag it out a fraction, then push it back in, slow and deliberate, watching his body betray him with every inch. The tight squeeze, the desperate gasp, the low sobs that start slipping out when you don’t give him a break.
He’s fragile. So fragile.
The toy isn’t even close to the size he’ll have to take later. But his inexperienced ass is already wrecked. Already trembling around something so tiny, so insignificant.
You grip his jaw, force his eyes to meet yours. “You wanna see how fucked you’ll be when the real thing slides in?”
His cheeks flush crimson. He can’t even nod, breath hitching so hard he’s nearly choking.
He’s ruined.
From a cheap sex toy less than three inches long.
You can’t wait to slide your actual dick in — it’ll tear him apart. Rip him open and break him in ways he can’t even imagine yet.
But for now, you have him like this. Clawed open and leaking sobs on your bed, begging you for mercy he doesn’t deserve.
☆: your online friend satoru thinks your voice is very pretty
the grainy, low-light discord video feed shows satoru’s room, a mess of textbooks and energy drink cans. his face isn’t in frame, just the edge of his jaw, the collar of his worn t-shirt, and the frantic, blurry motion of his right hand below the desk. his breathing, a ragged, open-mouthed pant, is the only sound for a long moment, harsher than the soft lo-fi beats playing from his speakers.
“you still there?” you ask, your voice cutting through the digital silence. it’s casual, a little teasing. you’d been talking about the new superman movie, of all things. the movement stops. a sharp, choked inhale. “y-yeah. i’m here.” his voice is strained, tight. too tight.
you lean closer to your own camera, a smile playing on your lips you know he can’t see. “you sound… distracted, satoru. everything okay?” “fine,” he squeaks, then clears his throat. “just… thinking. about the… uh… schrödinger’s cat paradox. it’s… stimulating.”
a soft, wet sound, hastily muffled, betrays him. your eyes widen in realization, a hot curl of power twisting low in your belly. oh. he’s not just distracted. he’s busy. and he’s trying to have a conversation with you while he does it. “satoru,” you say, your voice dropping, becoming smoother, more deliberate. the change is immediate. you hear a shuddering gasp from his end. “what are you doing right now?”
“n-nothing,” he whimpers, the lie pathetic and transparent.
“look at me.”
for a second, nothing. then, with a sound of pure mortification, his face slides into the frame. his silver-white hair is mussed, sticking to his damp forehead. his glasses, usually perched perfectly on his nose, are slightly askew, and the lenses are already beginning to fog. his cheeks are flushed a deep, feverish pink, his blue eyes wide and desperate behind the steamed-up glass. he looks utterly ruined.
“show me,” you command, the words leaving no room for argument.
a broken sob escapes him. “please, i can’t—”
“show me.”
his gaze drops, shame and arousal warring in his expression. with a trembling hand, he adjusts the webcam, angling it down. the screen fills with the sight of him. he’s still fully clothed in loose sweatpants, but the thick, straining tent in the fabric is unmistakable. his left hand is clenched in the material of his shirt, knuckles white. his right hand is still buried beneath the waistband, frozen in place.
“you’re so hard for me,” you murmur, and he moans, a high, reedy sound that goes straight to your core. “you were touching yourself, thinking about my voice, weren’t you?”
he nods frantically, a tear tracking through the blush on his cheek. “y-yes. god, yes. your voice… it’s so pretty. it makes me crazy. i couldn’t help it. i’m so sorry, i’m so—”
“don’t be sorry,” you interrupt, your tone shifting to something softer, yet infinitely more controlling. “take your hand out. let me see what you’ve done to yourself.”
whimpering, he obeys. his hand emerges, slick and shining in the dim monitor light. he fists himself slowly, once, through the fabric, and the choked-off cry it pulls from him is delicious. “please,” he breathes, the word barely audible.
“please what?”
“i’m so close. i’ve been so close for so long. i can’t… i need…” he’s babbling, his hips stuttering up into his own grip. “please, let me come. please. just say when. let me come when you say.”
the desperation in his voice is a live wire. a countdown. he doesn’t just want permission; he wants to be commanded. owned. “you want me to count for you? you want to be my good boy and wait for my signal?”
“god yes please ” he cries out, the force of it making his whole body jerk. “yes, please, i’ll be so good, i promise, just… please.”
“alright, don’t come until i tell you. you’re going to start again, and i’m going to count down from ten. do you understand?”
he nods, a frantic, jerky motion. his glasses are completely fogged now, useless. he shoves them up into his hair, revealing his unfocused, pleasure-glazed eyes. he wraps his hand around his length, his grip tight, and gives a slow, torturous stroke. a thick bead of precum wells up at the tip, and he smears it down the shaft with a thumb, his breath hitching.
“ten,” you begin.
he moans, long and low, his head falling back against his chair. his hips begin a shallow, frantic rhythm, fucking up into his fist. the sound is obscenely wet, each stroke a slick, rhythmic slap against his stomach.
“nine.”
“ah…!” his back arches, the cords of his neck standing out. “your voice… feels so good…”
“eight.”
he’s losing coherence. his strokes become faster, less controlled. his free hand claws at his own thigh, leaving red marks. “so good, so good for you, only for you…”
“seven.”
“fuck!” he shouts, his body trembling violently. a second, larger wave of slickness coats his hand. he’s leaking everywhere, a frantic, messy thing. “i can’t, i’m gonna—”
“you’ll wait,” you snap, and he sobs, his hand stilling but his hips still twitching helplessly. “six.”
he lets out a wounded noise, tears streaming freely now. “hurts… it’s too much…”
“five.” you’re relentless, your own pulse thrumming in time with his desperation.
he starts moving again, slower now, overstimulated and sensitive. every pass of his palm makes him flinch, a pained, pleasured expression twisting his face. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m trying…”
“four.” you draw the number out, letting it hang in the digital space between you.
he’s babbling, a continuous stream of “please” and “yours” and your name, your name, chanted like a prayer and a curse. his stomach is a mess, glistening with his own fluid.
“three.”
his eyes squeeze shut. his entire body is rigid, a bowstring pulled to its breaking point. a high, thin whine escapes his lips.
“two.”
“please…!” it’s a shriek, raw and shattered.
“one.”
the word hangs for a split second. you let the silence stretch, let him hover on the agonizing edge. the sound he makes is inhuman. a guttural, shattered cry as his body convulses. the first thick stripe of release hits his stomach with a wet slap, followed by another, and another. he keeps stroking himself through it, milking every last drop, his body seizing with each new pulse. “ah! ah! fuck!” he whines, his voice breaking. he doesn’t stop. his hand keeps moving, even as he trembles and whimpers, even as the touch clearly becomes too much, a sharp, oversensitive agony.
“don’t stop,” you order, watching him unravel. he obeys, sobbing, his movements becoming jerky and pained. more comes, a weak, pathetic dribble that mixes with the mess already on his skin. he’s twitching violently, oversensitivity making every nerve scream. “too much… it’s too much… please…”
“you asked for this,” you remind him, your voice cold and hot all at once. “you begged for it. look at you. a complete mess. my messy, desperate boy. can you even see through those fogged-up glasses? you’re pathetic.” the degradation makes him shudder, a fresh, broken moan tearing from his throat. his hand finally stills, resting limply on his spent, twitching flesh. he’s panting, tears and sweat and come smeared across his torso. he looks utterly destroyed. he blinks, trying to focus on the camera, his expression one of dazed, vulnerable worship. “th-thank you,” he whimpers, his voice hoarse.
He's been having a hard time lately, he's lost Suguru, his one and only, of course- you on the other hand are overjoyed at that fact.
It's annoying, after all, you've done for him, he calls out his name instead of yours, it's time you taught him a permanent lesson on manners.
P.s I TOLD YOU ITS NEVER GOJOVERRR RAHHH- [credits- __3aem on insta]
Also, follow my insta r3xni3 n text me, let's talk, im bored!!
...gojo Satoru...
Seeing Gojo with his head in his hands sitting at the edge of the school stairs wasn't a new sight for you, in fact for the past week you've been seeing him sitting there.
Crying, sobbing, or simply sitting in misery. He's always thinking of that damned suguru. Honestly, it was hard to get him to show you any affection with suguru around, and now that he's gone it's gotten even harder!
It's not that you hate suguru, you just love gojo, and seeing your gojo in pain annoys you, but. It also makes for the perfect opportunity to shove yourself in his life, when he's most vulnerable and make him rely on you
"what up 'toru?" Sitting down next to him gently touching his shoulder, you can't be too forward now. "..mhm, it's nothing." Hmm, well you knew it wouldn't be that easy, of course he wouldn't open up to you just yet! So you'll just keep trying- "come on satoru, this isn't like you, you're the strongest-"
"Can you leave? I'm not in the mood y/n." Running his hands through his hair he groaned as he hid his face. You got up without a word, it's fine, if he pushes you away you have many more ways to push back harder.
The continuing weeks during classes you would always make small talk, distracting his mind from geto. Then you'd buy him sweets saying that there was some buy one get one free offer, which is why you had brought one over for him there wasn't
You occupied him on the missions he'd usually go to alone, keeping him from feeling lonely. No matter how hard they were and no matter how much strain they put your body through you'd reassure him, you're fine!
He'd notice how you'd push yourself for him, it made him- feel. Feel something other than the constant sorrow due to Geto's absence.
He started reciprocating your 'kindness'. he would let you rest your head on his lap after a stressful mission and sometimes..he'd rests his own head on yours.
Shoving yourself in his life to replace the sorrows he felt didn't only include platonic relations. Every once in a while, whenever the feelings of loss came back too harshly, all he wanted was to forget. Get lost in pleasure, in anything, just- just please make him forget.
His tears which usually stained his face due to sorrow, now stained his face due to mind-numbing pleasure, his body was yours for the destroying, just please, please make him forget. Even if just for tonight!
" 'toru, use your words now, tell me what you want, hm?" You moved your hand ever so slowly, it hurt. "Just- just please, touch me, ruin me, do whatever you want. I'm yours, yours all yours- Suguru please.
Hah- fuck. He's so lucky he's Gojo Satoru. your gojo Satoru. You can feel yourself growing numb as you let out an unhinged chuckle "Sure Satoru." You try pronouncing his name with that same softness, to replicate that tone of pure love and kindness geto had, but alas, you never truly get it right.
Still, it's close enough for him. as he whines, bucking into your hand. You have half the mind to leave him like this, writhing on the bed, but you never do. This isn't the first time, and certainly isn't the last. You're sure every single fucking time you've seen satoru he's called out his name,
But, as you gaze down at him and as he stares up at you with his pretty blue eyes which spill with tears by the second, you can't help it. Perhaps you pity him, or perhaps you simply don't care if he's using you as a means to an end, since in return, you get to be the one fucking him dumb. And not Suguru, 'cause he's dead. But that's beside the point.
Rocking his world as his vision blanks, eyes rolling back as sweat covers him. You don't mind the pain of when he bites into your shoulder, you don't mind the fact that Suguru's name slips out of him more than your (can be fake) cock
But, for some reason you just can't take it today. Something takes over you, you swear, as you grab harshly onto his neck, gasps leave his throat as he huffs for air. "Wh- Ah pl- EAse- hah."
"say my name." "Wha- AHh-" pressing your hand down harder you're sure it'll leave marks. "Y/n. Fucking say it you dumb bitch." Tears fall down from his cheeks and onto your hand but it only seems to egg you on "Ah- mhm y-y/n please?" As you let go gits of his coughs fill the air as his pink chest rises up and down for air
Suddenly he gasps once more as you push against his prostate, you're far too pleased with him saying your name to let him rest, even to catch his breath.
His cries ring in your ear as his hands scratch onto your skin, leaving deep bloody marks in their wake he stares up at you with his tear stained eyes, mumbling only your name for the rest of the night.
You hope he's learned his lesson, and if not. You wouldn't mind teaching him another one.
...At first this was just another way to relax, y'know let out some stress from the akademia..but it seems the cold wanderer has gone soft..gn!reader...credits[kiyoshue] on insta
...the wanderer...
Something isn't right, it doesn't feel right. It's not his first time, you're not taking his virginity or some shit, hell- this isn't even the first time you two fucked. But something about the mood, this fuck session was...off.
Your thrusts were deep and- slow, which- wasn't entirely unusual maybe you're tired? You sometimes go slower when you start- no. Fuck, it was a few hours into your fuck session and the entire time you went so deep!
You went fast when he whined for it you kept at a pace most pleasurable to him. Why? It- it wasn't like he was your boyfriend or some shit. You didn't need to be all sappy and slow, hah, did you lose your touch?
Why're you touching him like- like he's delicate. Soft and- like you- fuck who do you think he is? He's the wanderer he doesn't need to be treated softly, he can handle it. He can fuck. He won't break he can endure it, he- so why does he like it. All soft 'n shit.
"Have y-you gone soft on mhm- me." He finally built up the courage to confront you about your weird..behaviour
Bringing your hand up, you touch his face, his cheek. You didn't slap him even though he flinched as his face tightened in preparation for that. "You're the one, who's gone fkin soft." He's crying. globs of tears flowing down his numb face, fuck. Why's he crying?? You aren't going rough so he has no excuse. Shit. Maybe he has gotten soft on you.
He- he doesn't know what to say- or do- shit. Are you gonna stop? Leave him like this? He's pretty useless if he can't handle you, fuck who would've imagined him, of all people melting into your soft touches crying over some basic decency.
"I- uh mm..hic..I don't-..uh..mm hic-" shit what is he doing? Looking up at you, trying to formulate a sentence as his stream of tears turn into rivers, drool dripping down his lips, as his mouth opens and closes like some damn fish. Looking up at you with his glossed-over eyes, his body seems to pull away from you, trying to curl up into himself.
Since your...arrangement started, there were only two rules, no catching feelings, and- no kissing on the lips, made to protect the first rule. You've wanted to break it many times yet never had the guts to cross that line, yet, here you are. Lips pressed flush against his as he pulls you back into him, closer. This time curling into you rather than himself, arms around your shoulder and back as you break away, shock prevalent in those glazed eyes, and a gling of something else too.
"fuuuck, wanderer. Maybe- hah..maybe I am the one going soft after all."
