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⍴rᥱ𝗍𝗍ᥡ gіrᥣs ᥣіkᥱ ⍴rᥱ𝗍𝗍ᥡ ᑲ᥆ᥡs ᥣіkᥱ mᥱ! ꕀhwang intak, 2025

[pglpblm]

ᡣ𐭩 ȷᥙᥣіᥲᥒ | 21 | һᥱr ꫂ❁

hi there :) i'm julian and this is a sideblog for my pretty boys . mostly for &team , p1h and enha ... but i'm a serial homie hopper so expect to see other groups too . i write fics (18+) and occasionally make gif sets . my posting schedule is inconsistent and my works are imperfect , but they're mine nonetheless <3

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© pglpblm 2026 .

[pglpblm]

tumblr loves lovessss to posts drafts without consent ughhh

[yum-nyang]

(credit)

[minhosimthings]

Pick me ahh question but what's your favourite &team fic written by me

[pglpblm]

girl your fics got some kick to em, where do i even begin likeeee

[guliexe]

━━━GUILTY PLEASURE 18+

Older Neighbour!Choi Soobin x Female!Reader

.ᐟwarnings/tags: age gap (20 & 25), soft dom!soobin, daddy kink, size kink, lots of praising, making out, dirty talk, he talks a lot during it, pet names (baby,princess), dry humping, nipple play, marking, oral (f rec), fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, multiple orgams, aftercare, confessions, fluff

𓏸⠀ 𓈒 you move into a new apartment and quickly fall for your charming, older neighbour soobin, not realizing he’s been secretly craving you just as much.

.ᐟwc: 6.9k (no proofread)

You had only been living in the building for 5 months, but somehow Soobin had already claimed a permanent spot in your thoughts. Every time you saw him across the hall, carrying groceries or walking in with his friends, your heart did that stupid little flutter you tried so hard to hide. He was tall, calm, and annoyingly handsome, the kind of guy who made you feel both small and exhilarated at the same time.

And, of course, you weren’t the only one having secret feelings. Soobin had been watching you too—the way you tucked your hair behind your ear, how you smiled when he offered help, the quiet moments when you didn’t even realize he was there. Neither of you could deny the pull between you, a tension that made your neighbourly encounters feel electric.

You stumble through the hallway, bags swinging loosely in your hands, the world tilting a little from the drinks your friends had pressured you into. Keys jingle in your fingers as you fumble at the lock, trying to get the door open without dropping anything. A quiet voice stops you mid-motion. “Hey, let me help you with that.” You look up to see Soobin’s head peeking from his slightly open door.

He’s so tall, broad, and looming in a way that makes your stomach flip even in your tipsy state. He reaches out, gently taking your keys from your hand and unlocking the door for you. “Here.” His hand brushes yours briefly, and your fingers tingle. “Thank you, Soobiinnn.” you slur, smiling up at him. The second you step into your apartment, you trip over the edge of the carpet and flop onto the couch with a soft thud.

You let out a whiny little, “oww…” rubbing your knee. “Hey, careful.” he murmurs, crouching down beside you, his warm hand pressing to your back. “I-It’s fineee.” you mumble, waving him off with a tipsy smile. “I’m…I’m good.” But when you shift to get comfortable, your skirt rides up, and the thin fabric of your panties peeks out before you even notice. Soobin notices.

His breath stutters, chest tightening, and for a second his brain completely blanks. He tears his gaze away instantly, jaw clenched, but the damage is done, his cock twitches in his sweatpants before he can stop it. Fuck…don’t look. She’s drunk. Be good. Be good. He straightens up, trying to compose himself, but then you pout up at him, tugging gently at his shirt.

“Soobin…” His name on your lips is slurred and whiny, and he feels heat crawl down his neck. “You’re drunk,” he says firmly, more to himself than to you. “You should sleep, I’ll get you a blanket.” You try to argue, “I’m not drunk.” tugging again at his shirt with those big pleading eyes, lips pouting out. “Juuust a tiny bit…”

“Yeah, that’s a lot.” he mutters, trying to sound stern, but his voice comes out rougher than he meant. When he drapes the blanket over you, you whimper and shift closer, catching the hem of his hoodie in your fist. “Stay,” you whisper, tugging weakly. “Don’t go yet.” His heart pounds so hard it hurts. The smell of your shampoo, the warmth of your skin, the sight of you flushed and soft and clinging to him, it’s all too much. He can feel his self-control slipping by the second. “Y/n…” he says, but it comes out husky, like a warning.

You blink up at him, lashes heavy, and then, like you don’t even realize what you’re doing, you pout deeper, tugging his shirt until he leans closer. “Soobin,” you whisper again softly, almost needy. “You’re so nice to me…” His throat bobs as he swallows hard, every muscle in his body tense. Stop. Don’t think about how pretty she looks. Don’t think about how warm her lips would feel on—

But then you let out the tiniest whine, eyes slipping shut as you mumble, “...don’t leave me yet.” and his cock throbs painfully in his pants. He feels dizzy, torn between guilt and raw hunger. He should go. He knows he should go. But then you tug his shirt one last time and lean up just enough to press a clumsy, sleepy kiss to his lips and he nearly loses it. You flop back down with a dreamy sigh, turning to your side as if nothing happened. “...goodnight, Soobin.” He stands there frozen, heart hammering, cock straining, his entire body burning.

“Uh—y-yeah,” he stammers, running a shaky hand through his hair. “Goodnight, y/n…Sweet dreams....” He forces himself to pull away, he closes your door behind him and leans back against the hallway wall, he squeezes his eyes shut and curses under his breath. “Fuck…” The image of your pout, your soft lips, the lace peeking out from under your skirt—it’s already seared into his mind. He knows he won’t be sleeping tonight.

The next morning, you step out of your apartment still half-asleep, dark circles, oversized hoodie hanging off your frame. You’re on your way to grab a coffee from downstairs, hoping it’ll fix the dull pounding in your head. When your door clicks shut, you realize you’re not alone, Soobin’s just across the hall, locking his own door. You freeze, stomach flipping. Images from last night flicker in your mind—your clumsy stumble onto the couch, the way you tugged his shirt, that quick kiss you’re not sure you imagined.

“Soobin..” you squeak, voice embarrassingly small. He looks up, and his lips twitch into the faintest smile. God, he looks good even in the morning—hair messy, plain black t-shirt stretched over broad shoulders, sweatpants hanging loose on his hips. His height makes the hallway feel smaller, towering over you like he could block out the world if he wanted.

“Morning.” he says, voice deep and warm. His eyes flicker over you, lingering a little too long. “How’s your head? Not too hungover?” You tug at the sleeve of your hoodie, cheeks heating. “I-It’s fine. Just…tired.” His gaze softens, and he tilts his head like he’s checking you over. The protective part of him slips through in his tone. “You don’t usually drink, right? Must’ve hit you pretty hard.”

You bite your lip, looking anywhere but him. “Mm. Yeah.” He studies you for a second, then his lips curve into a smirk. “You don’t remember much, do you?” Your stomach drops. “What do you mean?” He takes a slow step closer, and suddenly he’s right there, close enough that you have to tilt your head back to meet his eyes.

The sheer size of him makes your breath hitch. “Last night…” His voice dips lower, playful but heavy with something else. “You were really clingy, princess.” Your mouth falls open. “W-what?!” He chuckles, the sound vibrating low in his chest, and you swear your knees go weak. “Don’t worry. It was cute.” You’re burning red now, sputtering. “I—I wasn’t—”

“You were.” he cuts in gently, leaning down just enough that his shadow falls over you. His smirk softens, “Don’t worry about it. Just…maybe don’t let your friends push drinks on you again, princess.” You nod quickly, clutching your phone like it’s a lifeline. He steps back, ruffling your hair like you’re something small and delicate he wants to take care of. “See you later, y/n.” he says, already turning toward the stairs. You’re left frozen in the hall, face hot, your chest pounding, not just from embarrassment, but from the way his size and presence make you feel impossibly tiny.

Later that afternoon, you’re in the hallway again, this time wrestling with a large cardboard box. It’s wedged halfway through your doorway, too wide to maneuver easily, and you’re straining against it, little grunts slipping past your lips as you try to tug it inside. “Come on…” you mumble under your breath, already sweaty and frustrated. From behind you, you hear a deep voice, “What the hell are you doing?”

You gasp and whip around, hair falling into your face, only to find Soobin leaning against his doorframe, arms crossed, brows raised. He’s fresh from a shower, damp hair falling over his forehead, a loose t-shirt clinging to his chest. “I—I’m fine!” you blurt, tugging at the box again. “I can do it.” His eyes flick down to the way your little hands are struggling against the cardboard, and he huffs a laugh. “You? Are you sure?”

You pout, “Yes! I’m stronger than I look.” He pushes off the doorframe with one long stride, his shadow swallowing yours as he comes closer. “No, you’re not. You’re about to throw your back out.” Before you can protest, he brushes you aside gently, one big hand on your hip as he moves you out of the way. The casual touch makes your heart flutter. “Move.”

Then, with barely any effort, he grips the box and lifts it clean off the floor like it’s nothing. You gape, watching his arms flex under the weight, his tall frame filling your doorway. “There.” he says, carrying it inside and setting it down like it weighs less than a pillow. “Problem solved, princess.” You huff, crossing your arms. “I…could’ve done it eventually.” He chuckles, turning back to face you.

“No, you couldn’t. That’s what I’m here for.” You tilt your head up at him, lips parting slightly, completely zoned out, admiring from up close now. His voice continues, low and casual, but you don’t hear a word. He’s talking about how heavy the box is, joking about how you shouldn’t try to carry it alone, but you’re completely lost in his face, tracing every line with your eyes.

And then, without realizing it, your gaze drifts lower, past the line of his chest, down his torso, and lands squarely on the bulge in his sweats. You’re entirely unaware that he’s noticed. His jaw tightens instantly, a flicker of heat sparking in his dark eyes. He lets you stare for a beat, your innocent daze making him burn. Then, slowly, his lips curl. “Eyes up here, princess.” he murmurs, voice low and amused. You jolt, eyes snapping up, cheeks flaming as you realize where you’d been looking.

“I—I wasn’t—!” u say. “Sure you weren’t.” He grins, towering over you, the teasing edge in his tone making your skin buzz. You stumble over your words, pouting in flustered embarrassment, and he just shakes his head, ruffling your hair again like he can’t help himself. “You’re too damn cute,” he mutters under his breath, almost to himself. “Gonna drive me crazy one of these days.” You blink up at him, heart pounding, not sure if you actually heard him right, but his gaze lingers on you a second too long before he steps away, leaving you hot all over.

It’s late at night, and your textbooks are scattered across your desk, notes half-finished, highlighter marks everywhere. You’ve been staring at the same page for the past hour, unable to focus, your brain buzzing and heart racing from stress. Your chest tightens, and suddenly, it all becomes too much. You drop your pen, bury your face in your hands, and a soft whimper escapes before you can stop it.

Tears start spilling down your cheeks, and you sniffle, shoulders trembling. You just want someone to hold you, someone to make it all feel okay. Without thinking, you grab your hoodie, slip on fuzzy socks, and shuffle to Soobin’s door across the hall. Softly, you knock. “Uh… Soobin…” Your voice breaks, barely a whisper.

Seconds later, the door swings open. Soobin is there, fresh from whatever he was doing, eyes immediately softening at the sight of you. Pyjamas, hands in your lap, tears streaming down your pink cheeks, little sniffles escaping—his heart clenches. “Y/n? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” His voice is low, urgent, worry threading every word.

Before he can react further, you fling yourself into his arms, hugging him tightly. He stiffens for a second, startled, but the moment he feels how small and fragile you are in his arms, all his instincts take over. One arm wraps firmly around your waist, holding you close, the other hand coming up to gently pet your head, fingers threading into your hair.

“Hey…it’s okay, I’ve got you princess.” he murmurs, voice soft and protective all at once. You sniffle against his chest, letting your tears fall freely, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Do you…wanna come inside?” he asks gently. You nod, soft and vulnerable, and he guides you into his apartment, closing the door behind you.

He keeps a hand at the small of your back as you shuffle to the couch, still holding onto him a little, reluctant to let go. “Come here.” he murmurs, patting his lap. “Lay your head here.” You obey immediately, resting your head against his thigh, curling into him slightly. His hand finds your hair again, stroking gently, softly, and you hum, finally letting your body relax against him as the faint sound from the tv lingers in the room.

“You’re safe, princess.” he says, his voice low and husky, completely consumed by the sight of you so small and vulnerable. “I’ve got you. Don’t worry about anything.” You sigh, closing your eyes, snuggling slightly into his hand in your hair. The warmth of his thigh beneath your head, the steady pressure of his hand, the way he’s entirely focused on you, it all melts the tension and stress away.

He watches you, fingers brushing strands of hair back from your face, and a low hum of something like awe and desire escapes him. God…she’s so perfect. So cute, so soft…she has no idea what she does to me. “Shh…it’s okay,” he whispers again, pressing a little closer to you. “Just relax. You don’t have to do anything right now.”

You sniffle again, nuzzling a little closer, and he feels his chest tighten. Every whimper, every tiny sigh, every inch of your soft body pressed against him is making him lose control, but he keeps his voice gentle, protective, because for now, you need him, and he’s not letting himself do anything rash.

After a moment, he leans closer, his voice careful. “Do you…wanna tell me what’s wrong now?” You sniffle again, hugging yourself lightly. “Uni…it’s so hard. I’m so tired.” you whisper, voice cracking just slightly. His chest tightens at the sound of your words, and he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Shh…hey, it’s okay.”

You let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes and letting yourself relax a little more against him. He continues to run his fingers through your hair, brushing away stray strands, keeping his thumb gently against your temple. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know,” he murmurs. “I can help you. Whatever you need…I’m right here.”

You peek up at him through wet lashes, a small, tired smile tugging at your lips. “You really mean that?” He tilts his head, soft smile spreading across his face. “Of course I do. You’re doing so much, and you’re so strong…but even strong girls need someone to take care of them sometimes, hm?” Every little sigh you let out, every soft movement, makes him ache quietly in his chest.

“Just rest for now, okay?” he whispers. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe with me.” You nod, letting your eyes flutter closed, finally feeling a little peace as his hand lingers in your hair, his warmth holding you close. And in that moment, he’s completely captivated, helplessly drawn to you, wanting to protect you forever.

You lean up, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck, and he startles, eyes widening for just a second. Then, as if he can’t resist, his arms wrap around you firmly, holding you close, pressing you to his chest. “You’re always so good to me, Soobin...” you murmur softly, forehead resting against his shoulder, voice small and vulnerable.

His chest tightens, and his lips press into the top of your head. “You deserve it.” he says, voice low, and it makes your heart flutter. You lift your head, meeting his gaze. His dark eyes hold you completely, warm and intense, and for a moment you feel like you’re the only two people in the world. Your chest rises and falls against his, your fingers brushing the back of his neck, trembling slightly.

Then, before you can think twice, you press your lips to his. The kiss is sudden, soft at first, hesitant, but full of longing. Your heart races as you feel him stiffen slightly against you—his hands tighten on your waist, holding you impossibly close, but he doesn’t pull away. He whispers your name, breathless, and the sound of it makes your knees go weak.

His lips move against yours, deepening the kiss, possessive and claiming, like he’s letting you know you’re his. You feel him press you more tightly to him, and every part of your body tingles with need. His hands trail up to your face, cupping your cheeks, thumbs brushing your lips, and his gaze is fixed entirely on you. “You drive me fucking crazy.” he murmurs.

You look up at him, doe-like eyes wide and glossy fixed on his face. “Please, Binnie...” you whisper, voice trembling, and the sound of the nickname makes his chest tighten painfully. He swallows, a low groan escaping him. Fuck…The way you’re looking at him, so small, so giving…it’s driving him insane. He can feel himself throb in his sweatpants, hands clenching slightly.

“Fuck—Come here.” he growls, voice rough. Before you can react, he guides you to straddle his lap on the couch. Your knees hover on either side of him as he leans back slightly, pulling you close. His hands find your waist, gripping firmly, thumbs brushing over the soft curve of your hips, while his gaze rakes over you like he can’t get enough.

His lips find yours again, harder. Fingers dig a little into your skin as he holds you flush against him. His hands roam from your waist down to your thighs, fingers brushing over the soft fabric of your pyjamas, teasing, letting you feel the heat in his touch. “You don’t even know what you do to me every fucking day.” he growls, trailing kisses along your jaw and neck.

You begin to move slowly against him, your hips grinding just a little over the hard outline of his bulge through his sweatpants. His breath catches audibly, a low groan slipping past his lips as his hands tighten on your waist, holding you firmly in place. “Fuck…princess…” he murmurs, completely undone by the way your body feels against him. He leans back slightly, letting you take the lead, eyes dark and hungry as he watches every roll of your hips.

He can’t stop himself from grinding back slightly. You whimper, rocking a little harder, tilting your head to look at him with your pleading eyes. “Soobin…” His chest rises and falls rapidly, jaw tight as he leans, pressing his forehead to yours. “You feel so good, baby…so perfect on me…” His hands slide a little lower, teasing over your inner thighs, just brushing against your heat over your pyjama pants, and the sound of your needy moans pushes him closer to the edge.

You lean in closer, breath warm against his ear, lips brushing it softly. A small whine escapes your throat as you murmur, “I—I need you, Binnie…” His grip on your waist tightens instantly. He tilts his head, lips brushing against your hairline, voice low and rough. “Yeah? What do you want, baby? Tell me.”

Your cheeks flush and you cling to him even tighter. “Want you to touch me...” you whisper, voice trembling with need. His large hand slides over your shorts, palm pressing against your cunt through the fabric. “Wanna feel good, baby?” he murmurs, eyes dark and hungry as he watches your reactions.

You nod immediately, pouting. “Yes, please…” you whisper. A satisfied hum leaves his mouth as his fingers begin to move deliberately, pulling your shorts to the side and rubbing over the thin fabric of your panties. “Fuck…you’re so wet, princess. Want me that bad?” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your clit, teasing just enough to make you whimper.

You tilt your head back slightly, soft moans escaping as your hands clutch at his shoulders, rocking against him instinctively. “Yes, Binnie…so bad.” He tugs gently on the waistband of your shorts, his voice sounding reverent. “Can I take these off, princess?”

“Yes…” you breathe out, nodding eagerly, your own hands helping him slide the fabric down your legs. You’re left in your panties and shirt, perched prettily on his lap, and when you sink back onto the hard outline of his bulge it makes you wet immediately. Soobin’s breath hitches, a soft groan escaping his parted lips when your soaked panties drag against him.

His head tips back for a moment, jaw tight, before he looks back at you with hooded eyes. His hands are everywhere—roaming your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh, sliding up to cup your ass and press you down harder against him. He starts grinding you against his length, deep groans mixing with your whines.

“I can’t stop thinking about you. Every time I see you—even when I don’t—I get so hard just picturing you like this.” Your body is hot, a blush spreading across your cheeks as his confession sinks in. He leans closer, his lips brushing your ear as he grinds you slower, harder against his cock.

“You drive me fucking insane, Y/n. I try to hold it in when my friends are around, when you’re just smiling at me in the hallway…but fuck, baby, I can’t anymore. I need you.” Your heart pounding so hard it almost hurts. “You…” your voice trembles, your hips still grinding faintly against him. “You think about me like that?”

Soobin’s jaw flexes as his grip on your waist tightens. “Fuck yes, baby. Every day. Every night.” A needy sound leaves your throat before you can stop it and you surge forward, kissing him desperately. He swallows the sound, kissing you back just as hungrily, his big hands moving and groping your waist and thighs. You pull back just enough to whisper against his lips, “I’ve liked you since I moved here, Binnie…”

His eyes darken, a small, wicked smile spreading across his face. “Yeah, baby? My little princess had a crush on me this whole time?” he teases, his thumb rubbing slow circles into your inner thigh. You nod, eyes big and sparkly. “So bad…you’re always so good to me.” you murmur. “I’ll always be good to you, baby…” his voice drops, gentle, as his nose brushes yours. “You’re my good girl.”

“Mhm...” you nod frantically before kissing him again. He kisses you back hungrily, one of his large hands sliding up under your shirt until his palm meets your warm skin. He groans when he feels you arch into his touch, his thumbs brushing over your nipples before he cups your breasts fully, kneading and squeezing until you let out a shaky whine against his mouth.

“Fuck, lift your arms, baby.” he says roughly. You obey instantly, breathless, raising your arms above your head. He grabs the hem of your shirt and pulls it off in one smooth motion, tossing it carelessly on the couch. His eyes roam over your bare chest, and you can feel the way his cock hardens beneath you.

His big hands immediately grab your tits, squeezing greedily, his fingers pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers. “You’re so pretty…fuck.” he groans, his lips parting as he stares at you like he’s starving. He leans down suddenly, dragging his tongue over one stiff peak before sucking it into his mouth.

“Soobin…” you whine, your head falling back as his teeth graze your nipple. His other hand kneads your other breast, switching between rough squeezes and gentle rolls that make your thighs tighten around his hips. Your shaky hands tug at the hem of his shirt, your big eyes pleading up at him. “Please…wanna see you, Binnie…”

For a second he just stares at you, like the words alone nearly broke his self-control. Then a low chuckle rumbles in his chest, his lips curling into a smirk.“Yeah, princess? You wanna see me?” he teases, voice rough, tilting his head as his hand caresses your cheek. You nod quickly, whining softly, tugging on his shirt again with impatience.

“Please…” Soobin groans, giving in. He grabs the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head quickly, tossing it to the side. His lean, toned body is revealed and your breath catches, eyes roaming shamelessly. His smirk deepens, a flash of pride in his gaze. He grabs your hips, grinding you down against his bulge again, and leans close to your ear. “You look so small on me like this. So fucking perfect.”

You lean forward, lips pressing to his neck, kissing along his collarbones, your soft whimpers vibrating against his skin. “Need you, Binnie…” you whine, breath hot and desperate. Hhe suddenly shifts, his large hands sliding under your thighs. With almost no effort, he lifts you up off his lap, your surprised squeal echoing through the room. “Soobin!” you whine, arms wrapping around his neck as he steadies you against his chest.

“So damn cute.” he mutters, lips brushing your cheek before he kisses it softly, even as his steps are quick and purposeful. He carries you effortlessly toward his bedroom, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this, princess…” he admits. He nudges the door open with his foot and sets you gently on his bed, towering over you, his dark hair falling in his face.

His lips crash onto yours, swallowing every needy sound you make. His hands are everywhere—palming your tits, sliding down your waist, squeezing the soft flesh of your thighs like he can’t get enough. He pulls back just enough to whisperagainst your lips, “Let’s get these panties off, hm?”

You're nervous, but you nod quickly, too needy to argue. His fingers hook into the waistband, dragging them down achingly slow, until they slip down your legs and he tosses them somewhere into the dark. The second you’re bare, heat creeping up your cheeks, you whine softly and snap your thighs shut, curling into yourself as your hands clutch the sheets.

Soobin slowly leans down, kissing the inside of your knee softly. His large hands gently coax your legs apart, “Don’t hide from me, princess.” he whispers, eyes burning into yours. “You trust me, don't you?” You nod softly, looking down at him. He hums amd starts kissing higher along your thighs, prying them open slowly with his palms.

The moment he gets a full view of your glistening cunt, his cock twitches hard in his boxers. “Shit…” he hisses, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drags a hand down his face, like he’s barely holding it together. In a rush, he shoves his sweats down his long legs and kicks them aside, leaving only the tight stretch of his boxers.

Your eyes drop instantly, widening at the sight of his thick bulge straining against the fabric. You gulp, lips parting, a soft whimper caught in your throat. He notices. His lips curl into a playful smirk and climbs back onto the bed, crowding you with his tall frame. “Cute” he mutters and then kisses you hard—hungry, possessive. His chest presses to yours as his hips roll down, his hard length grinding against your bare, soaked pussy through his boxers.

The friction makes you moan against his lips, your legs falling open wider, inviting him closer. His hips grind harder against you, and soon the front of his boxers is wet with your arousal. He pulls back just enough to look down between your bodies, groaning when he sees the wet patch spreading.

“You’re soaking me, baby.” he growls, his cock twitching desperately under the fabric. Your cheeks burn, a needy whine slipping past your lips, but before you can say anything, his big hand slides down. He presses his palm against your bare pussy, and you gasp, clutching at his shoulders.

“So fucking wet…” he mutters, dragging his fingers through your folds, gathering every drop of slick before rubbing it back over you. He circles your clit with the pad of his finger, until your hips jerk against his hand. “Mmh—Soobin!” you moan, your head falling back, hips chasing his touch, grinding yourself helplessly against his fingers.

“That’s it, princess.” he rasps, watching you fall apart under him. “So needy for me, yeah?” Your body arches into him, small whimpers leaving your throat every time his finger presses down just right. His free hand grips your thigh tightly, keeping you spread open for him.

“Spread your legs for me, princess.” You obey instantly, parting your thighs wide. Heat creeps up your face at the boldness of it, but when you glance down, Soobin’s eyes are already locked between your legs, his jaw tight, his expression hungry. “Good girl…” he murmurs. He settles between your thighs, his big hands sliding up until they grip firmly, holding you open for him just how he wants.

He leans down, pressing slow, lingering kisses along the inside of your thigh, making you twitch under his touch, then another kiss, closer to your aching heat “Fuck, you’re gorgeous like this.” he whispers against your skin, squeezing your thighs in his palms. “All spread out for me…my perfect little princess.” You slightly squirm, desperate for him to finally touch where you need it.

“Let me take care of you, baby.” Soobin says, his voice full of promise. His breath fans over your soaked pussy, making you shiver. Then his tongue presses flat against you, licking one long, slow stripe up your folds. “Ngh—” you whimper, hips jerking, your thighs twitching in his big hands.

He groans low in his throat at the taste, then leans in closer, kissing your pussy like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Soft, lingering presses of his mouth against your heat before his tongue pushes past your folds, lapping you up eagerly. Your head falls back against the pillows, a soft moan spilling out as your fingers fly to his hair, tugging desperately. “B-Binnie…”

“So sweet…” he says between licks, his voice muffled against you. His hands keep you spread wide, thumbs stroking circles into your skin. Every flick of his tongue makes you whine, your whimpers growing needier as you grind faintly against his mouth. “Good girl,” he mutters against your clit before sucking it into his mouth, making you gasp loud and tug harder at his hair.

“That’s it, baby,” Soobin groans, his tongue flicking quick against your clit. “Use my face.” Your hips rut against his mouth, desperate, and he lets you, his lips sucking greedily, tongue pressing flat and then circling, lapping up every bit of your arousal.

“Ah—Soobin!” you moan, your fingers tightening in his hair as your thighs tremble in his grip. Then you feel one of his big hands slide lower, his thick finger tracing your soaked entrance. Slowly, he pushes inside, stretching you, making your walls flutter instantly around him. You gasp, clutching at the sheets with your free hand.

“So tight.” he groans, muffled against your cunt as he thrusts his finger slowly in and out, curling it just right as he sucks your clit at the same time. Your thighs squeeze around his head, but his arms are too strong, keeping you open for him as he works his mouth and finger together. “That’s my girl…take it for me. Let me make you feel good.”

“S-Soobin—gunna cum!” He curses under his breath, his fingers pumping deeper as his tongue moves in circles over your swollen clit. Your thighs tremble against his shoulders, your nails tugging desperately at anywhere they can grab. “Yeah, baby—cum on my fingers. Be a good girl and let go for me, okay?”

Your back arches, a loud whimper slipping out as the knot inside you snaps, your walls clenching tight around his fingers. Wetness spills down his hand as your moans turn high and shaky, your whole body twitching from the release. “Mmh, so good for me, princess.” he murmurs against your slick folds, pressing soft kisses to your thighs while you’re still shaking.

He pulls his fingers out slowly, hovering over you, his lips shiny with your wetness. You’re still panting, eyes glassy, when your hand drifts down between your bodies and wraps around the thick bulge in his boxers. His breath hitches at the contact. You tug him closer, lips brushing his ear as you whisper, voice wrecked and needy, “Want your dick, daddy…”

The word slipped out before you could even stop yourself. He groaned low, his head dropping to your shoulder, breath hot against your skin. “Fuck…baby, do you even know what you just said to me?” His voice was broken, needy, almost whimpering with restraint.

You shyly nod, his big hand comes up to cup your jaw, tilting your head so your eyes meet his. “Say it again.” Your lips part and you whine. “Want your dick, daddy. Please.” That was it. His control snaps. He shoves his sweats down, his cock springing free—huge and so pretty, already leaking for you. Your breath caught, eyes wide at the sight.

Soobin chuckled low at your reaction, his thumb stroking your waist. “Yeah, princess, he’s scary, huh? Don’t worry, baby, I’ll help you take it. You can do it for me, can’t you?” You nodded frantically. “Y-yeah.” He guided you up, huge hands gripping your hips firmly, positioning you right over him as he rests his head on the headboard.

The fat tip of his cock pressed against your dripping entrance, making you gasp at the stretch before he was even inside. “Easy, baby...” he soothed, lips brushing your temple. “Sit down slow for me, nice and steady. Daddy’s got you.” You whimpered, clutching his broad shoulders for balance as he slowly eased you down.

Inch by inch, his cock stretches you open, your walls fluttering around him. You moan helplessly, overwhelmed by the fullness and the feel of his body beneath yours. “Thaaat’s it…good fucking girl.” he praises through gritted teeth, jaw clenched as he tries to stay still beneath you. “Taking me so well, princess. Look at you, made for this cock.” Your nails dig into him as you whine, finally sinking down until your thighs are flush against his.

The sensation makes your breath unsteady, and he hums, one big hand stroking up and down your back while the other holds you steady at the hips. When you start rocking slowly, testing the waters, he can't help himself. His hands go straight to your naked breasts, cupping them, rolling your nipples between his long fingers. “Fuck…look at you.” he groans, leaning down to kiss and suck one while his thumb teases the other.

You whine, moving faster now, grinding down on his cock, gasping at the delicious stretch. His grip on your hips tighten, guiding you, voice dropping. “That’s it, ride me just like that, baby. Use daddy’s cock, make yourself feel good. You’re perfect…so fucking perfect.” You lean, pressing your lips to his, letting out a needy whine as your lips collide. He kisses back hard, teeth grazing yours lightly, tongue teasing as his hips grind up to meet your movements.

You’re moaning into his mouth, nails clutching his shoulders, feeling him fill you completely. His lips trail down your neck and throat as you bounce, sucking dark, bruising hickies into your skin. “My sweet girl...” he whispers, his big hands roam over your naked body, “Binnie…don’t stop…please.”

“Don’t worry, baby, I’m not going anywhere.” he murmurs, before his fingers slide down to your clit. The sudden, firm pressure makes you clench around him and your back arches. “Ngh—shit—Binnie!” you gasp, bouncing faster now as he rubs you, one thumb circling your swollen bud while the other keeps your hips guided.

His cock throbs inside you with every movement, the friction combined with his fingers on your clit driving you wild. “That’s it…so fucking wet for me, princess.” he pants, sucking hard and hungry onto your neck. He leans up briefly to kiss you again, tongues tangling, groaning as you grind down on him.

“You love this, don’t you, baby?” he teases, dark eyes glued to yours. You whine in response, gasping, “Y-yeah…love it…love you…need you.” His one hand squeezes your ass while the other still rubs your clit in circles. You moan and cry out, grinding faster, bouncing as he keeps praising you, marking your collarbone, jaw, and neck.

“You’re mine to make feel good, princess, okay? No one elses.” he pants. Your head falls forward, lips brushing his neck as you nod desperately between moans, feeling him rub your clit harder. “M'cumming!” you cry, gripping him, bouncing faster.

“Yes, baby, come on…make a mess on my cock.” he groans, one hand tangling in your hair, the other keeping your hips pinned. “So perfect…so pretty…fuck, I can’t get enough of you.” Your body shudders violently around him, walls clenching on his cock as your second orgasm crashes over you, head thrown back, moaning his name nonstop.

After a few deep, sloppy thrusts, Soobin groans low, still needy for you. “Fuck…I—I can’t hold it much longer.” Before you can answer, his hands grip your body firmly and he flips you onto your back in one smooth motion. You gasp, thighs wrapping instinctively around his waist as he pins you in place.

“Shh…it’s okay, princess.” he murmurs, lips brushing across your forehead, cheek, jaw, and down to your lips, kissing you softly as he stays thrusting again. “You can take one more for daddy, hm? Please?” Your chest heaves, eyes wide and wet, lips trembling as you whine, “Y-yes…I—I can…”

He presses a sweet kiss to your cheek, and murmurs against your skin, “Atta girl.” Your body trembles at the slow, teasing thrusts, hips bucking a little against him. His lips roam your face constantly, soft kisses to your forehead, cheeks, jawline, and neck. You whine, grinding desperately, feeling the stretch and fullness again. “B-Binnie…s-so big…s-so good…”

“Yeah baby, feel how full you are…can feel every little inch of you—fuck…” Your moans grow higher, whinier, as the knot in your belly tightens until you’re nearly sobbing. Tears falling on your cheeks as he presses his forehead to yours.“B-Binnie—ngh—oh my god—!” you cry out, eyes fluttering shut.

Your last orgasm finally breaks, shattering around him with a strangled moan as your walls pulsate and clamp down, pulling him in deeper. You sob his name, thighs shaking around his waist. He kisses your cheeks, your nose, your lips, groaning as he feels you clench around him. “Fucking perfect, baby—squeezing me so tight—gonna make me cum—”

Your voice is breathless, needy and desperate as you whimper, “Please—Soobin—please cum inside—!!” That single plea wrecks him. His thrusts falter, hips stuttering as he buries himself to the hilt, head dropping to your shoulder with a groan. “Holy fuck, baby—yes!” His cock throbs deep inside you as hot strings of cum spill into you, filling you until it drips down your thighs.

“So warm…so fucking good.” he pants, forehead pressed to your neck as he holds himself inside, not wanting to let go. He cups your face with both hands, tilting your head so he can kiss you softly, over and over—sweet, lingering pecks that make your chest ache. “My pretty girl.” he whispers against your lips, voice softer now, almost tender. “Always so good for me…”

You blink up at him through wet lashes, dazed, breathless from your orgasm. He kisses away the last of your tears, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks, whispering gentle things as his cum slowly drips out of you, his hips still pressed against yours like he doesn’t want to leave your body. Your body is still trembling faintly when he finally eases out of you, the warmth of his release spilling down.

He murmurs a soft “shhh” and kisses your damp cheeks, grabbing a tissue to gently clean you before pulling the blanket over both of you. He settles against the pillows, tugging you into his chest like you belong there, one big hand stroking lazily through your hair. His heartbeat is steady, grounding, and his lips press against the top of your head every so often. “You did so good for me, princess.” he whispers against your hair. “My sweet girl, so beautiful.”

You whimper softly, curling closer into him. Your voice is fragile, almost shy when you admit, “You make me feel so safe, Soobin. I want you so bad…I’ve never felt like this before.” His chest tightens, and his arms squeeze you tighter. He tilts your chin up so you’re looking at him, his thumb brushing across your cheek. “You’ll always be safe with me,” he says firmly. “I’ll take care of you. No matter what.”

There’s a pause, his gaze searching yours, before he exhales and confesses, “At first…I thought I shouldn’t feel this way about you. That maybe I was too old for you. But—fuck, baby, I can’t help it. I’m head over heels for you. I think I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you.” Your lips part in surprise, but then you’re smiling through tears, heart swelling at the raw honesty in his eyes. You lean up to kiss him, slow and sweet, and he kisses you back like he never wants to stop, like the words he just said weren’t enough to show how much he means it.

a/n: i kinda lowkey hate this one ngl, and i tried my best not to make the daddy kink weird but i think it's weird ughhh idk yall. hope u enjoyed.

𓏸⠀ 𓈒 check out my masterlist .ᐟ get added in my taglist .ᐟ

© guliexe

[pglpblm]

[guliexe]

━━━DON'T PLAY DUMB 18+

Nakakita Yuma x Female!Reader

.ᐟwarnings/tags: perv!yuma, porn with a little plot, dom!yuma, reader is down bad, dry humping, teasing, dirty talk, possessiveness, slight choking, fingering, face sitting, spanking, p in v, praising, degrading, squirting, creampie, explicit photo is taken at the end, 80% of this is just pure smut lmao

♡ you fold from yuma’s teasing and he gives you the best fuck of your life

.ᐟwc: 5.1k (no proofread)

You’d met Yuma through your friends Nicholas and Maki, your best friends, alongside the rest of their friends, and over the past few months you’d been hanging out with him and the boys practically every weekend. What you didn’t know, though, was that Yuma had harbored a huge crush on you since the day he met you, and with it, the most perverted thoughts. Every time you’d bend over to pick something up, the bottom of your lacy panties would peek out from under your skirt, and he would stare, licking his lips. And when you would slip into a tight top without a bra, your breasts would press up and your nipples would harden, making him wonder how his cum would look all over them. Even when you would do the most innocent thing—like showing him your new set of nails—he would picture those polished fingers wrapped around his cock.

He would jerk off to you every night, imagining you sucking him off with your pretty mouth. His intentions towards you were pretty clear, but you were too oblivious to notice. You liked him a lot, more than just a friend, but you had no clue he felt the same way, and you were too scared to initiate anything. But the thing is, he knows about your lil crush on him, and wanted to tease you a little until you finally break. So when Maki brought up the idea of throwing a house party at their place—music, drinks, everyone crashing after—Yuma was thrilled. He knew you’d be there. Knew you’d show up in something cute, probably not even realizing the way you always drove him insane.

The night started off chill. You were curled up on the couch with a drink on the coffee table infront of you, laughing at Nicholas drunkenly trying to freestyle while Maki recorded. Yuma sat next to you, his thigh pressed against yours, a casual arm thrown behind you on the back of the couch. Every time you leaned forward to take a sip, his eyes dropped to the way your dress dipped just slightly on your cleavage, and every time you weren’t looking, he leaned in a little closer. You thought maybe he was tipsy. Maybe he didn’t realize how close he was. But when you looked up at him and found his eyes already on you, lips parted like he wanted to say something but didn’t—your stomach flipped.

As the night wore on and the group thinned out, Maki dragged Nicholas upstairs, yelling something about making sure he didn’t vomit anywhere. One by one, people started leaving, until it was just you and Yuma in the dim living room, the bass from someone’s playlist still low and thumping through the walls. He let his head rest back on the couch and ran his hand through his hair before turning to look at you. Half lidded eyes, cheeks a bit red from the alcohol. You stared at his neck, how his addams’s apple bobbed when he swallowed and how the light from the led strips on the walls perfectly lit up his face and neck. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked softly, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Your heart stuttered as you realised he’d caught you staring. Heat rushed to your cheeks and you slightly bit your lip. “Like what?”, you mumbled with a nervous chuckle, eyes darting away in a desperate attempt to look anywhere but at him.

He didn’t answer right away. Just kept looking at you, like he could see right through every layer of embarrassment you were trying to hide. His grin deepened, lazy and amused, and then he shifted—turning his body fully toward you, his leg brushing against yours as he placed his hand just above your knee, making your body freeze. “Like you wanna eat me up”, he murmured with a little smirk on his face. Your breath hitched. You glanced at him, wide-eyed, trying to tell if he was serious or just teasing you again. But there was something heavier in his voice this time. Something that made your thighs clench together under your dress. “I don’t—” You started to deflect, but Yuma put his elbow on the couch, his head on his fist and leaned in closer, his voice dropping low near your ear, “Don’t play dumb, baby”. The pet name made you blush even harder, your big eyes locked on his, and his hand started caressing your skin. “You know I’ve been watching you, right?” he said, his fingers brushing lightly along the side of your thigh, moving further up, agonisingly slow. “The way you dress around me, the way you laugh and blush everytime i give you attention…”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and searching. “You think I haven’t noticed?” You swallowed hard, heart thudding so loud you were sure he could hear it. “I don’t know what you mean,” you whispered, but your voice wavered, giving you away. Yuma smiled again, satisfied, and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering at the side of your jaw. “I think you do.” He leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away—but you didn’t. You couldn’t. Not when he was looking at you like that, like he was starving and you were the only thing on the menu. His nose brushed against yours, lips so close they ghosted over your mouth when he spoke. “Been jerking off to you for months,” he murmured. “Ever since the day we met, when you wore that cute skirt of yours.” You couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, already breathless, frozen in place under the weight of his voice.

The smug heat in his tone sent a shiver down your spine. Just like that, he had you wrapped around his finger again. “I wanted to wait until you cracked first,” he said, knuckles brushing up your inner thigh, reaching closer and closer to where you needed it the most, “but I think I’m done playing.” You didn’t mean to lean in. It just happened—drawn to him and his stupid lips. Your lips brushed his, featherlight, and for a second, neither of you moved. Then his hand slid to the back of your neck and pulled you the rest of the way in. He kissed you like he owned your breath, like every sound you made belonged to him, slow but hungry. His hand slid up further up your thigh, firm and unapologetic, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled you closer, making your leg fall between his and lean closer. You gasped into his mouth when he squeezed, and he took full advantage, tongue slipping past your lips, tilting his head to kiss you deeper, harder.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, hips squirming under his touch, dress riding up just enough to expose the lower curve of your ass. “Fuck,” he muttered against your mouth, “Been dying to do this.” You barely registered the words, too lost in the way his hand slid higher, over the thin piece of fabric of your panties on your hip. His grip tightened, feeling the curve of you on his palm. When he finally pulled back, your lips were swollen, breath shaky, pupils blown. Yuma’s eyes dragged down your body like he was undressing you right there on the couch. And then his voice dropped, low and certain, “Let’s go upstairs. Now.”

Your breath hitched again at the command in his voice. He was already moving, already reaching for your hand like he wasn’t giving you a chance to second-guess. His fingers laced with yours, and you let him pull you up from the couch, your legs barely keeping up with your racing heart and throbbing core. You followed him up the stairs and through the quiet hallway, your hand tight in his. As you walked outside of Nicholas’s room, you spotted Maki passed out on the bed, his arm slung dramatically over Nicholas’s chest where he lay drooling beside him. Neither of them stirred as Yuma led you past.He opened the guest room door, not even bothering to turn the lights on. The faint glow from the city and the moon was just enough. He closed the door behind you, then turned to face you.

You didn’t get a chance to say anything else. Yuma stepped in close, hands slipping around your waist to pull you against him. His lips found yours again, this time slower, less rushed, but deeper, like he was savoring it. His fingers slid down your back, then lower, gripping your ass under the fabric of your dress and pulling you flush against the hard bulge in his sweats. “You have no idea,” he murmured between kisses, “how many times I’ve imagined this.” You whimpered softly, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance as he walked you back toward the bed. He sat down first, then tugged you onto his lap with practiced ease, your thighs straddling his as his lips found your neck. He sucked at the spot just below your ear, biting lightly, soothing it with his tongue before moving lower, trailing open-mouthed kisses down the curve of your neck to your collarbone. Each kiss was wetter, messier, his mouth leaving heat and spit and little groans against your skin as he dragged his tongue lazily over the spot he’d just sucked.

You couldn’t help but roll your hips against him, slow and shaky, grinding down on the thick length pressing up through his sweats. The friction made your breath catch, made you cling tighter to his shirt as your thighs trembled around him. “Fuck—so needy for me already, huh?” he teased, a soft chuckle leaving his mouth. “Yuma…” you whined, voice barely above a whisper. His grip on your hips tightened, guiding your rhythm as he tilted his head back to look at you, lips red and shiny from kissing. “Yeah? You feel how hard you’re making me, baby?” Your only answer was a soft, desperate moan as you rocked against him again, your panties damp and clinging to you beneath your dress. Yuma leaned forward, licking a stripe up your neck before sucking another very visible mark into your skin, right over your collarbone, slow and possessive. Your hips moved on instinct now, slow, needy rolls that made your clit throb with every drag of your soaked panties against the thick ridge of his cock beneath the fabric.

You could barely keep your eyes open, lashes fluttering as your head tipped forward in the crook of his neck. Yuma sighed softly, one hand still gripping your hip while the other slid up, fingers slipping under your dress. He didn’t stop until his fingertips brushed between your thighs, dragging over the front of your panties—slow at first, then pressing in to feel just how wet you were. “Oh, fuck…” he breathed, a teasing smirk appearing on his lips. “You’re soaked. You like me that much?” You whimpered again, “Mhm…”, nodding, thighs twitching as his fingers pressed down more firmly, rubbing the slick fabric against your swollen clit. Yuma licked his lips, eyes locked on your face as his hand slipped beneath the waistband of your panties. The moment his fingers met your bare heat, you left a small gasp, gripping him tighter.

“Shit, baby. You’re dripping.” His fingers slid through your folds, slow and teasing, before circling your clit with a firm, deliberate touch. You whined, thighs parting further for him. Then, without warning, he pressed one finger inside, slow and deep, watching the way your face twisted, the way your body arched into his. The stretch made your breath hitch, your nails digging into his shoulders. He gave you just a second to adjust before slipping in a second finger, having him groaning into your neck. “That’s it,” he whispered, curling them slightly, dragging them against the spot that made your legs tremble. He worked them in and out, slow at first, drawing soft, wet sounds from between your thighs, his thumb circling your clit with maddening control.

You were already falling apart on his lap, hips grinding down to chase the rhythm, and Yuma was eating up every second of it, how needy, and pliant you were just for him. “My dirty, dirty girl,” he teased, lips brushing your cheek. Yuma pulled his fingers from you, watching them glisten before dragging them slowly across your inner thigh, smearing your arousal over your skin. Then he leaned in close, lips brushing your ear. “Lay down for me.” he said, low and commanding. You nodded, breathless and dizzy, and moved without hesitation, back hitting the mattress and thighs still trembling. Yuma followed without missing a beat, eyes locked on you like he couldn’t get enough. He crawled over you, caging you in beneath him as his lips crashed into yours, hungry and rough this time. There was no patience left, tongues tangling, teeth grazing, your whimpers and moans muffled by his mouth as he kissed you like he needed you to breathe. His hands were everywhere—palming your waist, tugging at your dress, sliding up your sides until he pulled it up and over your head in one swift motion.

You gasped as the air hit your skin, his gaze dropped to take you in. “Fuck,” he muttered, dragging his hands slowly down your stomach. “So pretty laid out f’me.” He leaned back in, kissing you again, slower now but just as deep, his hand slipping behind your back to undo your bra and his mouth found your neck, leaving soft kisses on the skin. Once it came off, he tossed it aside and immediately dipped his head down, mouth closing around your nipple. He sucked, slow and deep, letting his tongue swirl over your nipple while his hand kneaded the other, fingers tugging and teasing until you were arching into him, breath hitching with every pull of his mouth. Then he moved to the other, biting down gently before soothing it with his tongue. His mouth roamed, dragging wet kisses across the curves of your tits, leaving hickeys wherever he wanted.

Every mark he sucked into your skin throbbed with heat, and the slick trail of spit he left behind glistened under the low light. “Look at these perfect fucking tits,” he muttered against your skin, voice low and hoarse, tongue flicking lazily over one nipple before sucking again, hard enough to draw another desperate moan from your throat. “All mine.” His hand roamed lower on your tummy, caressing it softly without stopping his mouth. You whimpered, breath shaky, hands tangled in his hair. “Please…” His brows lifted, lips twitching into a filthy smirk. “Please what, baby?” he taunted, reaching down to palm your thigh, squeezing it as he kissed just below your breast. “You gotta tell me.” “I need you, Yuma,” you breathed, hips twitching. “Please…” “Oh, you need me?” he echoed, clearly getting off on your desperation. “Need to cum like a little slut while I’m sucking on your pussy?” He chuckled under his breath, eyes flicking up to yours.

“Mhm, please Yuma, need it.” His hand dragged slowly down your thigh, lips brushing over your skin, and when he reached the edge of your panties, his fingers hooked into the waistband and tugged them down. The cool air kissed your wet heat as he slid the fabric down your legs, his eyes locked on the way your arousal clung to your folds, glistening. “Fuck…” he whispered like it was a prayer, the sight alone enough to make him throb in his sweats. He dropped your panties on the floor and slipped his fingers between your thighs, parting you with two fingertips. His touch was gentle at first, sliding between your folds, dragging slowly through your slick just to feel how messy you already were. “Cute” he whispered, more to himself, rubbing circles around your clit before sliding lower, teasing at your entrance without pushing in. “You’re so wet, baby.” You let out a soft whimper, hips shifting under his hand, trying to chase more pressure.

Yuma grinned, smug, as he brought his fingers back up and spread your slick on your clit. “Sit on my face.” he commanded, voice low and serious. Your breath hitched, eyes snapping to his. “W-What…?” “I said sit on my face.” His eyes darkened as he looked up at you, jaw clenched slightly. “Don’t be all shy now.” You froze, face burning, thighs instinctively trying to close. Your hands fidgeted at your sides as your voice came out small. “I-I’ve never—I can’t-” “Yes you can.” he cut you off, tongue wetting his bottom lip as he sat up slowly on the bed, one hand firm on your waist. pulling you onto his lap, fingers gripping your thighs as he shifted you to straddle him—but not to sit fully. Just enough to hover over him, your soaked pussy glistening inches from his mouth. “Come on, baby” You tried to keep your weight off, unsure, trembling, but Yuma wasn’t having it. “Sit this sweet pussy on my fucking face,” he said, voice sharp. You hesitated, eyes wide, but he narrowed his gaze and grabbed a handful of your ass, pulling you down.

As soon as your folds touched his mouth, you moaned and immediately put your hands on the headboard. His tongue licked a thick stripe up your slit before flattening against your clit. “Shit, baby,” he groaned against you, breath hot. “You taste so fuckin’ good.” He grabbed both cheeks of your ass and grinded you down harder, his tongue fucking into you now, licking, slurping, messily devouring your pussy while his nose pressed right against your clit. You whined from the pleasure, your hand moved to grip his hair, thighs trembling as you started moving—tentative at first, then grinding down onto his tongue, chasing the way he flicked it against your clit. Yuma groaned, sucking hard, fingers digging into your ass to hold you there. “There you go,” he panted, “That’s it. Rub that pretty pussy all over my fucking face.” Your hips stuttered as you rode his face, the filthy sounds of his mouth working between your thighs echoing in the room. His tongue flicked mercilessly at your clit, mouth wet and open, then shoving it deep inside your hole. You were trembling, legs shaking, moans spilling uncontrollably from your lips. “Yuma—I’m… I’m gonna—”

He didn’t stop. He grabbed your ass tighter, pulling you down harder against his face, smothering himself in your pussy like he wanted to drown in it. He hummed into you, voice muffled by your cunt, and the vibration of it made your back arch. “Cum on my tongue,” he rasped when he finally pulled back just long enough to speak. His lips were slick with your arousal, chin wet, eyes blown with lust. And after some seconds, came. The orgasm ripped through you fast and violent, your whole body going tight as your thighs clamped around his head. You cried out, grinding down against his face as your pussy throbbed and pulsed on his tongue. Yuma moaned like he was getting off just from tasting you, licking up every drop. “Good girl.” he whispered against your soaked cunt. Before you could catch your breath, Yuma’s hands were already on your waist. He flipped you easily, your back hitting the mattress as he loomed over you, his body casting a shadow in the dim light.

His hands braced on either side of your head, his face still glistening with your slick, and that filthy smirk never left his lips. He leaned in to kiss you hungrily, making you taste yourself from his mouth, then pulling away quickly. “Look at you,” he muttered, eyes dragging slowly down your body. “All fucked out already, and I haven’t even put it in yet.” He sat up on his knees and grabbed his shirt, yanking it off in one smooth motion. Your eyes immediately dropped to his chest—broad and toned, your thighs immediately pressing together again. He noticed, and his smirk deepened. “You like what you see, baby?” he teased, voice low and cocky. You nodded, biting your lip, then his hands moved down to his waistband, pushing his sweats down just enough to reveal the thick bulge straining against his boxers. He palmed himself over the fabric, watching your reaction like it was his favorite show. His cock twitched under the touch, already leaking a dark spot through the material.

You reached your arm to his thigh desperately trying to pull him closer, his hand squeezing around his length .“You want it this bad?” You nodded quickly, dazed and needy, thighs clenching again at the sight of him. “Nah, say it,” he ordered, voice sharp, dominant. “Use that pretty mouth. Tell me how bad you want it.” “I—I want it,” you breathed, eyes locked on the heavy outline in his boxers. “Want your cock, Yuma. Please.” your hand moving further up. “Fuck,” he hissed through his teeth. “You sound so good when you beg.” He hooked his fingers in the waistband and finally tugged his boxers down, freeing his cock—and fuck was he big. Thick, veiny, flushed red at the tip and already leaking. Your mouth went dry at the sight of it. Yuma stroked himself once, slow, precum smearing over his fist. “Eyes up.” he said, grabbing your jaw hard and tilting your face toward him. “You’re gonna take every inch like a good girl, yeah?” You nodded helplessly, and he leaned in, mouth brushing yours again as he lined himself up with your entrance. He gripped the base of his cock and dragged it slowly through your folds, groaning low as your slick coated him from base to tip. He ran it up and down your pussy, smearing his precum against your clit, your breath catching each time he nudged the sensitive bundle.

You whimpered, hips bucking just the slightest bit, trying to chase the pressure, needing him to give you more. But Yuma just chuckled, low and perverted, his eyes glued to the way your pussy glistened under the head of his cock. He gave a few more lazy glides, letting the swollen head of his cock tap against your clit just to hear your breath hitch. “I should make you beg again. But you’ve been so good for me tonight.” He aligned himself at your entrance again, teasing the tip just barely inside, then paused. “Take a breath,” he whispered, eyes flicking up to yours, voice calm. And then he pushed in. Slow at first, just the thick head stretching you open, making your back arch and your hands grip his biceps. “Fuck—Yuma” you gasped, your voice high and trembling as your walls clenched around him. “Thaaat’s it.” He groaned, jaw tight, watching your pussy swallow him inch by inch. “Fucking tight…shit.” He pushed deeper, the stretch nearly overwhelming, your breath coming in short little whimpers as he filled you to the hilt. His hips finally met yours, buried so deep it made your stomach flutter. He didn’t move right away. He just held himself there, grinding his hips into yours in slow, deliberate circles, making sure you felt every single inch.

He pulled out halfway, then slammed back in, hard. You cried out, body jolting beneath him as he set a brutal rhythm, each thrust deep, like he wanted to fuck the shape of him into your walls. His hands gripped your hips, dragging you down to meet every stroke, the sound of skin slapping echoing in the dark room. “Say it,” he panted, his pace unrelenting. “Say you’re mine.” “I—I’m yours, Yuma!” you moaned, voice high and shaking. “All yours!” He leaned down, teeth grazing your neck as he fucked you harder, the bed creaking under his pace. “Damn right you are.” Yuma groaned against your neck, biting down just hard enough to make your back arch and then kissing the same spot. His fingers wrapped around your throat, his other gripped your waist, pounding into you. Your moans came out in broken little sobs, your hands scrambling to hold onto his hair as each thrust knocked the breath out of you. He was so deep, thick and stretching you to your limit, the sound of his hips slapping against your soaked cunt obscene in the dark room. His hand slipped from your waist to your lower belly, pressing down firmly, and you gasped when you felt it. The thick bulge of his cock, deep and pulsing, outlined under the skin. "Fuck, baby" he rasped, palm flattening over the spot. "Look how deep i am." Your breath hitched, legs trembling around him as he kept thrusting. "Taking me so damn good." he muttered, his hand sliding up to your breast, giving it a squeeze. “Such a good fucking girl.”

“Yum-ma~ I’m c-close! Without warning, he pulled out, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness. Your pussy clenching around nothing. He grabbed your hips and flipped you over easily, pressing your face into the pillows as he pulled your ass up. “Stay just like that” he ordered, voice low and serious. You barely had a second to breathe before he slammed back in, the force of it making your whole body jolt. You moaned into the sheets, drool slicking the pillow as he pounded into you from behind, raw and relentless. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you back into every thrust. He groaned, pulling out just enough to see the mess he was making. His cock gleamed with your slick, coated from base to tip, and where your bodies met, a creamy white ring, thick and sticky around him. “Fucking slut, creaming all over me.” You whined, flushed and wrecked, as he pushed back in, burying himself in and slapping your ass hard.

“You’re mine” he growled against your spine, hips slamming into you again and again. “You fucking belong to me.” He reached forward, fingers twisting into your hair and yanking you upright against his chest. The sudden pain made you cry out, your hands flying to the headboard again gripping it tight as his other hand slid down between your legs. His fingers found your swollen clit, rubbing slow, messy circles that sent a white-hot jolt through your core. You sobbed, grinding helplessly against him. “You like this, baby?” he whispered, filthy and smug right against your ear. “Like being used like this, takin’ my cock while I play with this little pussy?” “Mhm” you whimpered, nodding your head fast. Your whole body trembled, the pleasure hitting sharp and deep on your cervix, and then you started to move. Hips rolling back against him, desperate for more. You rocked yourself along his length, fucking yourself on him, your thighs shaking as the slick, wet sound of it got even louder.

“Just like that,” he grunted, jaw clenched. “Fuck yourself on my dick, baby.” His hand never left your clit, keeping up that relentless pressure as you moved on him, over and over, taking him deeper each time. His cock hit that spot inside you perfectly, again and again, until your moans turned into broken high pitched cries. Yuma snapped, his grip tightened, both hands snapping back to your waist as he slammed into you hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs. He pulled you back onto his cock, pounded into you relentlessly, each thrust hitting so deep your ass shook. “F–fuck, Yuma,” you choked out, voice high and shaking. “ s’too much, f—feels like I’m gonna p-pee—” His dick twitched in you, one hand sneaking around to slap down on your clit again, fast and messy. “Shit, let go, baby, trust me.” “Yuma—!” Your whole body tensed, then snapped. A cry ripped from your throat as you squirted around him, soaking his thighs, his cock, the sheets. His hips didn’t stop, watching the mess you made all over him. “Fuck, that’s my girl.” he hissed, eyes locked on where your cunt clenched around him, your slick pouring down his shaft. “Fuckin’ drenched me.”

You could only moan, every sound helpless, your body trembling under the overwhelming rhythm of his hips. He pressed forward, his chest flush against your back, breath hot on your neck. “Gonna cum in you,” he sighed, the tip of his cock nudging your cervix with every thrust. “Gonna fill you up so good, baby.” You sobbed his name, walls fluttering around him and making him whimper into your ear. His pace slowed down, sloppy and messy, slapping and grabbing on your ass, until he slammed into you one last time, his cock twitched as warm strings of cum filled up your insides. He stayed there for a moment, breathing heavy against your back, one hand still gripping your hip like he never wanted to let go. He slowly pulled back just enough to watch your swollen folds still wrapped around the base of his cock, his cum already beginning to drip out of you. You were trembling, breathless, face down on the mattress with your ass still raised for him like his perfect little masterpiece.

“Fuck,” he muttered, biting his lip as he reached for his phone on the nightstand, not even hesitating. You whimpered softly, your face flushed, hazy and fucked-out as he angled the phone “Stay like that,” he said, thumb swiping the screen to find the camera. “Gotta have this—look how messy you are f’me.” The shutter clicked once, twice. A picture of your ass spread by his big hand, your pussy glistening and dripping with his cum. He set the phone down again and leaned over you, large hand brushing sweaty hair from your cheek before pressing a kiss to your temple. “So good for me,” he whispered, gently easing out of you. The drag of his softening length made you whimper again, sensitive and spent. You felt the bed shift as he got up, only to return with a towel. He cleaned you slowly, his touch soft and patient as he wiped between your thighs. “Got you, baby,” he said, pressing another kiss to your lower back.

“You did so good. Took it all for me.” Once you were clean, he crawled back into bed and pulled you into his chest, wrapping you up in his arms, his hand rubbing soft circles into your back. “Let’s stay like this for a bit” he murmured, lips brushing your forehead. “Then we can sleep at my place, hm?” You nodded sleepily against his chest, your body relaxed, arm wrapped around him pulling him closer, softly kissing his collarbone as he stroked your hair.

my other works ➵ masterlist

A/N: this would’ve been so much better and so much more detailed but i’m too lazy to rewrite some parts and also i have no idea if there’s any mistakes i don’t wanna read it again pls tell me if there’s any

© guliexe

[pglpblm]

this fic has me like

[slowpokegamer]

*looking at myself in the mirror*

Fanfiction is supposed to be cringy. You're allowed to write bad. You're allowed to be cringe. Fanfiction is supposed to be self indulgent. You're allowed to be cringe. Let yourself be cringe. Fanfiction is supposed to be fun. Stop putting arbitrary rules on yourself and be free.

[minhosimthings]

Killshot, Baby! || 18+

Synopsis: Who better to comfort you after your heart break over an unrequited love that your best friend, Euijoo? And who better to take your virginity as well?

Pairing: best friend Euijoo x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, p in v, unprotected sex (not for you), oral (f receiving), fingering, virginity loss (f), corruption kink, dom!euijoo, sub!reader, big dih euijoo my beloved, SIZE KINK, a bit of dumbification?, pervert euijoo, panty sniffing yay, masturbation (m), reader is ultra feminine and lowkey dumb asf i would be too for euijoo, euijoo lowkey toxic af but we love him, Nicholas slander sorry bby i love you, not proofread gomenesai

A/N: anon deserves head for requesting this I FUCKING LOVE THIS FIC best thing i've put out till date no i will not take any arguments. legit got the worst writer's block on this but the power of byun euijoo's cheeks coursed through my clit and i finished it. Panty sniffer euijoo is something I never thought I'd be turned on by but hey here we are my pussy is ready to be bred euijoo. As always, enjoy, my sweethearts!

Word Count: 12.9k (romance babes romance)

Your friends knew, your brother knew, the grocery store cashier knew, the milky way and her children knew. Practically the entire universe knew of your crush on Wang Yixiang. 

So it was one of two options: either he was dumb as fuck or you just weren’t his type. 

Yeah, there was no way it would be the second option.

As pathetic and disappointing to feminism as it seemed, you had somewhat molded yourself to fit his type. Maybe not his type exactly, but at least a version that could talk to him as easily as the cicadas talked to the morning. The type that could slap his arm playfully when he made a joke and giggle a giggle that would sound like cherry coke. The type that wore baggy jeans and layered belts, just like him. The type that wasn't a quiet, withdrawn bitch that didn't talk to anybody, wrapped in her own ribbons and lace. The type that would be loud.

So when the day died out and you came back home, exhausted from your fictitious persona, you found solace in the one person that knew the true you.

“You look ridiculous with that on.” Euijoo chuckled, watching you wipe away your dark eyeliner—something you barely wore, “I’m surprised he didn't ask if you’re possessed, love." 

“Shut up.” You said, glancing at him in the vanity mirror. He was leaning back against the headboard of your bed, one arm thrown over his head lazily, while the other went back to scrolling on his phone, “And he did compliment me today, you absolute dick.” 

“You call that a compliment?” Euijoo laughed, throwing his phone down and sitting up, looking at your concentrated face in the mirror removing your makeup. Cute, Euijoo thought. His eyes briefly went down to your thighs in your shorts and then up, thankfully you didn't notice.

Byun Euijoo was a man of many talents. Confessing to his best friend who he had been thirsting over (and masturbating to the image of) ever since last summer was not one of them. 

In his defence however……ok he had no defense. Other than the fact that you were the most angelic person he had ever laid his eyes on. And god bless his heart (and dick), the poor boy had had a crush on you since 11th grade.

He knew it would be like all those books you read, the ones in which the guy is whole heartedly, heart-poundingly, cock-crushingly in love with the female lead, who ends up with somebody else. The second male lead syndrome, as you called it, passionately declaring that you would always love the second male lead more.

Euijoo wanted to stand in front of you with a spray painted sign that read “I am your IRL second male lead.”

What on earth did Yixiang even have that he didn't? Apart from the bad-boy look, the beautifully dyed blonde hair, the piercings, the tattoos that he designed himself, the motorbike, the cool sneakers, the–

Euijoo was beginning to see why.

He hadn't noticed it at first, though in hindsight to him now, it was scathingly obvious. The way you asked about Yixiang like nobody else mattered, the way you laughed a little harder at his very unfunny jokes, the way you lingered just a second too long when he was near, the way your voice softened when you said his name. Euijoo used to be the only one who’d hear that sweet tone of yours. 

When you had first confided in him about your earth shattering obsession for Yixiang, he wanted to laugh. You two were polar opposites, oil and water. Of course, opposites do attract but you needed to have a common base first—and there were barely any similarities between you two. You guys didn’t even like the same genre of music! 

And then when he brought it up, you only laughed (your pretty little laugh) and told him about your plan. Authenticity be fucked, he recalled you saying, all you needed to do was get Yixiang interested. Euijoo would have been lying if he said he didn't feel a bit sorry for you. 

If he knew anything about Yixiang, he knew that he wasn’t the type to fall for girls like you. Honey-sweet girls, pale blue ribbons in your hair, starry eyes that looked up at him in a way that made him want to drop to his knees and worship. Honey sweet girls who lived in the clouds and in words, who couldn't handle the emotions that came with being heart-broken. 

Euijoo knew you could protect yourself, that you were a woman with a fully functioning brain, but he also couldn't bear the image of you sobbing your heart out the day Yixiang eventually rejected you. He knew he couldn't predict the future and there could be a sliver of a chance for the both of you—but in his humble, knowledgeable opinion, that sliver was smaller than his will to live. 

But deep inside, he wanted Yixiang to reject you. He wanted so badly for you to come home to him as you always did, for you to sit down on his bed and ask with those pretty pink lips to have him hold you in his arms as you cried into his chest. It scared him sometimes how badly he wanted such a cruel thing. 

But could he really be blamed? When you fit so beautifully in his arms like you were made for his solace alone, like you two were matching puzzle pieces? When he was the only one who knew the deepest, darkest parts of you? When he was the one who had always been there, through desert and storm? Euijoo was a man of many philosophies. At least ninety percent of them revolved around you.

“You coming to Yixiang’s party on the 14th?” You asked, crawling up the bed to reach him, sitting on your knees in front of him. Your shorts barely covered your thighs, a strap of your camisole was slipping off of your shoulder and you were looking at him like he held the world in his arms. How was a man supposed to survive?

“Maybe.” Euijoo hummed, tossing his phone to the side and patting the space beside him, which you quickly occupied, immediately curling into his chest.

You stayed like that for a while, neither of you saying a word, just staring off into space as time ticked away. Euijoo wanted this moment to last forever, just the two of you pressed together like the stars pressed against the dark sky, one of your legs thrown across his, your tits very visible to him as you rested your head on his chest. 

“What’s that pretty little head thinking about, hmm love?” He said soothingly, running his slender fingers through your hair. He felt you exhale shakily against him.

“I think…” You started, then you sat up, turning around to face him again, “I’m gonna tell him in two days.” Euijoo stared at you blankly for about ten seconds, as if trying to get your words to penetrate his mind, “Oh don’t look at me like that Ju.” You chuckled, looking down at your fiddling fingers, “If not now, when?” 

Euijoo kept staring, with that peculiar look in his eyes that you just couldn't figure out. That look in his eyes that always looked like a night sky enveloping a thunderstorm. You told him that once and he had laughed awkwardly, excusing himself to go get a bottle of water. 

“In two days?” Euijoo said at last, sitting up to lean his back against the headboard, “At the party?” His voice was quieter than usual, as you nodded meekly, “I see…”

“That’s all you have to say?” You tilted your head at him, playfully reaching out a hand to grab his chin and tilt his face around, “Who are you and what have you done to my best friend?” 

Euijoo’s soft smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he took your hand in his, rubbing circles over your wrist with his thumb. He stared at your joined hands for a while, his breath even and steady as he refused to meet your gaze. 

“Ju?” You said gently, “Ju, what is it?” You slowly brought your joined hands up, resting your cheek in his palm. Oh this girl, Euijoo thought, letting out a shuddered breath as he saw how you were looking at him. He tried hard not to let his gaze flicker down.

“It’s nothing, love.” He said, his tone tranquil, “I just….” A breath, “Are you sure? Like a hundred percent sure?” He laughed at your offended expression, shifting closer, “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you love, that’s it.”

“Bad?” You said, with a curious tint in your voice, “Why would anything bad happen?” 

Because Yixiang doesn't like you. 

Euijoo wanted to scream it out, cradle your face in his hands and tell you those five magical words. He didn’t care if it hurt you even more than whatever Yixiang would say; he didn’t care if this one fuck up got him barred from hearing your angelic voice ever again. 

But like all men, he held his tongue.

“It’s probably nothing, I’m just worrying too much.” Euijoo laughed, settling down again, holding out his hand to pull you back for cuddles, “You know how I am, don’t you?”

“That I do.” You giggled, happily going back to your cuddling position, “We can get ready together on the 14th and I can show you what I got for Yixiang.” 

“Of course, love.” Euijoo hummed, closing his eyes to allow his mind a second of peace. Which he failed to attain, his mind sending him the most outrageous scenarios ever of the events that would transpire tomorrow.

How slowly the night did fall today.

______________

“Teach me how to kiss.” 

Byun Euijoo’s cause of death would have been asphyxiation if you didn't slap him on the back to push the popcorn lodged in his throat out.

“Is this because I said your scarves are ugly.” Euijoo said, rubbing his chest as he put the popcorn bowl down to avoid any more accidents, “Is this my karma?” 

“You’re so dramatic.” You said, pausing the show on the tv and turning to face him on the couch. You took both his hands in yours and stared at him with a seriousness that could have rivalled a professor’s, “I need you to teach me how to kiss so that I don’t fuck it up with Yixiang.” 

“Are you hearing yourself right now?” Euijoo said, running a hand through his hair, “We don’t even know what Yixiang is gonna say to you.”

“Are you saying you don’t have faith in my plan?” You said, with a pout on your lips, “You don’t trust me, Ju?”

“Of course I trust you but—”

“Then teach me.” Your faces were mere inches apart in seconds, “Teach me how to kiss.” You crossed your arms and looked at him with challenging eyes, “Or do you not love me anymore?”

It's because I love you, you idiot. 

Euijoo sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. What had life even come to? What had he done in the past for the universe to serve him this—the woman he loved asking him to teach her how to kiss—on a silver platter? Euijoo wouldn't have minded if death came for him at that moment.

“Fine.” 

“Really?” You said excitedly, clapping your hands together, “You’re the best Euijoo has anybody told you that.”

“Yeah yeah I know.” Euijoo let out a breathy chuckle. What the actual fuck was he doing? Practically every remaining inch of logic in him was screaming at him to get up and drown himself in a lake, but here he was, breathing in deeply to remind himself how to kiss. He hadn't done it in quite a while—his last casual hookup was perhaps five months ago.

"Alright, first things first. You need to relax." He moved his hands from yours to your shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze before trailing his touch down your arms. "Tension is said to be the enemy of a good kiss."

“Who says that—”

“Do you want to learn or not?”

You rolled your eyes, nevertheless nodding, feeling your muscles loosen under his ministrations. Euijoo smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, gaze flickering down to your lips.

“Good, now close your eyes.” He waited until you did, then leaned in close. His breath ghosted over your lips as he spoke softly, “Now just…..picture Yixiang if it makes this easier.”

Euijoo mentally slammed his head against a pole when he heard himself say that. ‘If it makes this easier’, who the fuck even says that?

You cracked a mischievous eye open, trying to keep a smile in, when you saw how close Euijoo was, there was barely any air between you two. 

“Arms on my shoulders.” He said, you felt him shudder a bit when you followed his instructions but that could have been a figment of your imagination. His hand creeped uncertainly to rest on your thigh. Slowly, he leaned in, giving you ample time to pull away. You didn't.

Euijoo tasted like cherry cola, fizzy and electric against your lips, though his lips were soft and warm as they moved on yours like a choreographed dance. You breathed shakily into the kiss and he intertwined his fingers in yours. 

“Slow down, love.” He murmured, not opening his eyes, “We don’t have anywhere to be.” Euijoo's hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. 

In all honesty, he could have evaporated into the air right there and then. The taste of you drove him insane, sweet—oh so fucking sweet, honey straight from the comb on a spring evening, when the scent of lilacs would fill the air and there would be butterflies everywhere.

In shorter words, Byun Euijoo’s cock was screaming at him to take care of it.

“Hmm, like this?” You mumbled, and then his world came crashing down when you moved forward, practically settling yourself into his lap.

Euijoo swallowed hard, his pulse jumping at the feel of your soft curves settling into his lap. The heat of your body seeped through the fabric of his shorts, making his already throbbing cock twitch with renewed interest. He knew he should put a stop to this before it went too far, but damn if he could find the strength to do so. Not when you felt this good in his arms.

“Yeah.” He pulled back, eyes tracing over, god fuck him you were still looking at him with those innocent eyes, “Just….he might do something like this too.”

His hands slid around to the small of your back, holding you close as he went in for another one, a deeper kiss. His tongue delved past your parted lips to stroke along yours in a sensual dance that left you breathless.

“Oh…” You said, finally ending the kiss after a long moment.

“Not bad for a first timer.” Euijoo teased, “But love, could you maybe get off now?” He raised a brow as you blinked at him, once, twice and then scrambled off his lap.

“Sorry about that.” You laughed awkwardly, “Just felt I should do that for some reason.” 

“I’m sure he’d love it.” Euijoo said, how the actual hell did you not sense the tone of his voice?

“Really?” Your eyes lit up, light and giddy, “Thank you so much Ju!” You flung your arms around him, pulling him in for a tight hug. Euijoo wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck. As he always did, of course. As all best friends do! 

“Wanna play some League?” You said, withdrawing from the hug.

“Sure, love.”

As all best friends fucking do.

__________________

Euijoo leaned back in his gaming chair with a heavy sigh, tossing his headset aside after a late night gaming session. He had left your house at 7 pm, walking back home with barely a brain cell left in him. You had kissed his cheek before he left as you always did, but this time, it inflamed every single molecule that made up his being. He spread his legs wide, throwing his head back to stare at the ceiling. 

The beautiful flesh of your thighs, the curve of your neck where it met your shoulders, that look in your eyes, the taste of you….

Euijoo pushed himself up, walking to his closet. Opening it, he bent down to his knees and reached deep inside, shuffling his hand around till his fingers grazed it. 

He slowly pulled it out and sighed, sitting on his knees on the floor as he stared at it, his cock already straining against his shorts. You must have bought this one on sale, you never really liked it much, which explained why you didn't notice when it went missing from your house. 

Euijoo climbed onto his bed, bringing the pair of baby-pink cotton panties up to his face. He buried his nose into the soft fabric, letting the scent fill his senses. God it smelled exactly like you, so fucking honey sweet. 

Euijoo breathed in deeply, savoring your intoxicating scent that clung to the delicate fabric. His nostrils flared as he inhaled the lingering traces of your perfume and the musk of your arousal. Would you have worn this when you let your pretty little fingers linger to your sweet cunt? The heady aroma sent a jolt of electric desire straight to his throbbing cock, making it pulse with need.

He brought the panties to his mouth, running his tongue along the crotch. The salty-sweet taste burst across his taste buds, making him groan. He closed his eyes, letting the fantasy take hold as he pictured you spread out beneath him, flushed and panting with desire.

In his mind's eye, Euijoo could see every curve of your luscious body, from your gorgeous breasts down to the enticing cleft between your thighs. He ached to bury his face in your slick folds, to lap at your dripping pussy until you were writhing and screaming his name.

As he lost himself in the erotic daydream, Euijoo fumbled with the button of his shorts, shoving them down just enough to free his straining erection. His fingers curled around his thick shaft, giving it a firm stroke as he imagined how good it would feel to drive deep inside your tight heat.

Euijoo shuddered, picturing your breathy moans as he rocked into you, stretching you open on his hard length. He could feel your velvet walls gripping him, trying to milk his cock for all he was worth. He chuckled as he imagined your mouth falling open in an ‘o’, your nails drawing blood on his back.  With each mental thrust, he pumped his hand faster along his pulsing flesh, racing towards his climax.

Tension coiled tight in Euijoo's belly as he fucked into his fist with short, sharp strokes. He could almost hear your keening cries, feel your fingers digging into his shoulders as he pounded into you with desperate abandon. 

With a strangled groan, Euijoo threw his head back as pleasure crashed over him in intense waves. His cock jerked in his grasp as he shuddered through each pulse of his orgasm, picturing your face contorted in ecstasy as you came undone beneath him.

Finally spent, Euijoo collapsed back on the bed, his chest heaving as he gulped down air. He knew it wasn't the real thing, but damn if jerking off to thoughts of you didn't make for one hell of a mind-blowing orgasm. 

“Fuck…” He said softly, tossing the panties below his bed. With a blissful sigh, he let the post-orgasmic haze pull him under into a deep, satiated slumber.

Sweet, honey filled slumber. 

_________________

Euijoo often thought before he acted, a rare quality among human beings nowadays. However, there were rare occasions where he didn’t do that, the keyword being rare.

And today was one of those rare occasions! How fun! 

God damn his cock controlled brain—the version which only operated when he was around you—for saying yes to you asking him to help you pick out a dress for the party. Euijoo dressed casually, just a pair of blue jeans and a yellow shirt that fit him tight at the chest.

You, on the other hand, were throwing out the shortest dresses from the depths of your closet. And Euijoo was only a man.

“This one?” You said, looking up and down at yourself in the mirror, glancing at Euijoo sprawled out on the bed behind you, “Don’t say it looks good, you’ve said the same thing for the last five dresses!”

“Have you ever considered the fact that it's because you look good in all of them?”

“Flattery won’t get you out of this, Byun.” You said, spinning around to face him, “Now look properly and tell me which one!”

Whichever one would keep you here and away from confessing to Yixiang.

Euijoo’s eyes raked up and down, admiring the way the short silver dress hugged every curve of your body, cutting off right at your mid thigh, the thin straps showing off your shoulders beautifully. Thank god his hand was covering his crotch.

“Doesn’t Yixiang wear a lot of red?” Euijoo said, throwing an arm over his head, feigning exhaustion, “I think the velvet one would do.”

“You’re actually a genius.” You said, crossing over to pick up the discarded red dress lying on the floor, calling out to you like gold to a midas, “And stop sulking Ju, you agreed to this on your own volition.”

“I call it manipulation.” Euijoo called out, watching you slip into the bathroom to change. As soon as you were gone, his hand worked on his crotch, slowly palming his cock through the fabric. Hopefully, there weren't any hidden cameras in this room, he thought, glancing suspiciously at your teddy bears sitting on the shelf.

“Ok what do we think?” 

Euijoo needed to dip his head into a bucket of ice water and never come up for air ever again.

The delicate fabric clung to your curves in all the right places, the neckline just low enough to be enticing—a faux vixen’s play. It nipped at your waist before flaring out slightly at the hips. Euijoo’s gaze trailed over your bare shoulders,, a shiver running down his spine as heat flushed through him.

“Hello? Earth to Byun Euijoo.” You laughed, catching your reflection in the mirror, a thrill of excitement running through you at the thought of seeing Yixiang’s eye at the party. You twirled once in front of the full-length mirror, the skirt flaring out around your thighs.

“Y-Yeah. You look good.” He said, clearing his throat, “We should go or we’ll be stuck in traffic again.” He quickly moved off the bed, his jaw clenched, pulse point in his neck fluttering away. 

Byun Euijoo was a man of many talents. Hiding his very large boner perfectly from his best friend was one of them.

___________

Wang Yixiang—resident ‘bad boy’ of the town, prominent motorcyclist, occasional tattoo artist and so much more. He was the kind of guy who could command the attention of a room without breathing a single word, splitting the ocean of a crowd in half wherever he walked in.

Euijoo knew him to be a good person; they had made quick friends after a week of being in the same basketball team. Sure, Yixiang teased the hell out of him, always with that crooked grin and sharp tongue, but there was always something warm beneath it all—a brother he could trust. 

And even when this entire situation with you and him arose, Euijoo never felt any animosity towards him. Was it because he knew deep underneath that Yixiang’s type wasn't you? Perhaps. But he was also too good of a friend to feel anything like that.

However, as he stood in the crowded room now, party lights flashing in bursts of violet, blue and gold across faces known and unknown, Euijoo couldn’t help the slow, ugly coil tightening in his chest.

Jealousy. 

What a foolish emotion that mortals had.

It sat there, heavy and unrelenting, tightening with every second he spent watching you. You stood near the edge of the living room, just far enough from the chaos to not be swallowed by it completely.

The party itself felt alive in a way that was almost overwhelming—music blasting loud enough to blur thought, bass vibrating through the floor and up his spine. The walls pulsed with shifting lights, casting everyone in flashes of color that made moments feel fragmented, like scenes spliced together too quickly. Someone had opened the windows, but the air was still thick—warm with bodies, laughter, the faint sting of alcohol, and the lingering sweetness of someone’s perfume.

And Euijoo could still pick you out from the chaos effortlessly. And you looked—

He swallowed.

He shouldn't have recommended that dress, if he knew it would make him want to faint and die every time he caught sight of your thighs.The soft fabric of your dress caught the light every time you moved, your hair falling just right over your shoulders. 

You laughed at something your friend said, tilting your head slightly, eyes crinkling at the corners—but even that laugh felt distracted, like it didn’t fully belong to the moment. Your fingers traced the rim of your cup absentmindedly, your weight shifting from one foot to the other, like you were waiting for something. 

Or someone.

Euijoo leaned back against the wall, a red cup of god knows what held up absentmindedly. He hadn't taken a sip in fifteen minutes now, choosing to alternate his gaze from you to the man you were looking at.

Yixiang stood across the corner of the room, leaning against the wall like he owned the entire world. 

Someone was saying something animatedly to him, hands moving fast, but Yixiang only half-listened, head tipped, one foot braced on the wall, gaze distant. He looked effortlessly put together—leather jacket on a tanktop, hands decorated with rings galore, a lazy kind of confidence that made people orbit him without trying.

Someone said something that made the group laugh, and Yixiang’s lips curved, that small, knowing smirk that made people lean in closer. Euijoo saw it happen in real time—the way your attention slipped mid-conversation, drawn like gravity across the room. It was subtle, anyone else might have missed it. But he never missed anything about you.

Euijoo exhaled sharply through his nose, looking at the way your shoulders eased, the way your lips parted just slightly, the way something warm and hopeful flickered through your eyes. His chest tightened painfully.

Euijoo tipped his head back, glancing at the ceiling before closing his eyes, poking the inner side of his cheek with his tongue. His mind ran back to the way you had rambled about your plan to confess to Yixiang.

“I made this.” You said, a little breathless, like you were both proud and nervous at the same time, “I’m gonna give it to him and the party and then tell him.”

Euijoo stared at the bracelet—handmade, thread woven carefully, colours chosen just perfect, small details that made it feel you. Soft and earnest in a way that made it impossible to ignore.

“He mentioned once,” You continued quickly, like you needed to justify it, “that he likes this kind of stuff. Not, like, in a serious way, just—he said it offhand, but I remembered and I thought—” You stopped yourself, laughing a little, embarrassed, “I don’t know. Is it stupid?”

You sat cross-legged on the bed, sunlight spilling in through the window. It caught in your hair, outlining you like painters outlined their muses in loving, golden light.

“He’d love it.” Euijoo finally said, heart going to his stomach at your sweet smile, “I’m sure he would.”

There had been a moment, small and fragile, where Euijoo could have said something, anything to stop you. But he just nodded away and ruffled your hair.

The memory faded slower than he wanted it to, bleeding back into the present. Euijoo opened his eyes again, the noise of the party crashing back in all at once—music, laughter, voices, light. His gaze found you again.

You were saying something now, animated, your hands moving as you talked, and your friend laughed again. Your attention flickered, split between the conversation and the figure across the room, waiting for the right moment.

Euijoo’s hands curled into loose fists at his sides. He could walk over, say something, distract you, stop this before it happened, maybe threaten arson. But he didn’t move, staying right where he was, swallowing the jealousy burning like hellfire in his throat. He merely watched as you fiddled with the bracelet in your hand, waiting for the remainder of the crowd around Yixiang to disperse.

The crowd didn’t leave all at once. It thinned slowly, like a tide pulling back—one person dragged away by a friend, another distracted by a call, a couple disappearing toward the balcony. The laughter around him dulled, the tight circle loosening until it finally broke apart.

And then he was alone. Well, as alone as someone like Wang Yixiang could be at his own party.

Jackpot!

He still leaned against the wall, a red cup in his hand, head tipped slightly as he looked down at it like he had forgotten it was there. The lights flickered over him in uneven colors, catching on the metal of his rings, tracing the line of his jaw, dipping into the hollow of his collarbone where his tank top hung loose.

For a second, you just stood there watching—entranced by his beauty. Your heart thudded so loudly it almost drowned out the music, your grip tightening around the bracelet in your hand. You could feel the threads press into your palm, grounding and terrifying all at once.

This was it—your moment to be the Echo to his Narcissus. Before you could think too hard, before doubt could creep in and ruin everything—you moved. One step, then another; you weaved through the remaining people, barely registering the way shoulders brushed yours. Because all you could see was him.

And then you were there.

Oh fucking lord here you were.

Close enough to notice the faint scent of something clean and sharp, close enough to see the small details—the faint smudge of ink near his wrist, the way his lashes cast shadows when he blinked. Even the lord couldn't save you now. You adjusted your hair and moved.

“Hey.” You said, voice coming out softer (and shakier) than you intended. Yixiang looked up. For a split second, his expression was unreadable—like he was pulling himself out of wherever his thoughts had been. And then recognition settled in, easy and familiar.

“Oh,” He said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, “Hi there.” God he sounded so fucking hot, that effortless shift in his attention once it fully settled on you, “You’re here.”

You huffed out a small, nervous laugh. “Should I not be?”

“Mmhh, Euijoo usually tells me when he brings you along, so I’m just surprised.” He tilted his head, “Nice dress, you look cute.” Your cheeks warmed.

Godpleasefuckingsaveme.

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, suddenly hyper-aware of everything—your posture, your voice, the way your fingers tightened around the bracelet.

“You too.” You managed, "It's a uhh…a good party.” Who the actual fuck even says that?

“Yeah?” He glanced around briefly, like he was seeing it for the first time. “Bit loud, though.”

“A bit,” You agreed, smiling. There was a beat, not too awkward. You were used to such silences between you and him. 

Yixiang shifted, pushing himself off the wall fully this time. “You want something to drink?” He asked, lifting his cup slightly before glancing at it and making a face. “Actually—don’t take this. I have no idea what this is.”

You laughed, the sound easing some of the tension in your chest. “That doesn’t sound very reassuring.”

“C’mon,” He said, nodding his head toward the kitchen. “I’ll get you something that won’t kill you.”

You hesitated for half a second (could he get his fine ass in your life) and then nodded.

You followed him through the crowd, the space parting for him without effort. It was quieter in the kitchen, the music more muffled, replaced by the low hum of the fridge and the occasional clatter of someone passing through.

Yixiang moved easily, grabbing a bottle from the counter, reaching for a clean cup. “What do you want?” He asked, glancing back at you.

“Um—anything’s fine.”

“Dangerous answer, sweetheart.” He muttered, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice as he poured something anyway, sliding the cup toward you.

“Thanks.” You wrapped your fingers around it, but didn’t drink, mind lingering on the way his veins flexed as he closed the bottle.

Your attention wavered to the bracelet in your other hand. You tried to keep it casual, resting it loosely against your side, but you could feel it like it weighed a hundred pounds.

Say it.

Not yet.

Say it now!

Wait.

Yixiang leaned back against the counter this time, mirroring how he had stood earlier, one hand resting beside him. “You good?” He asked, eyes flicking briefly to your face. “You look like you’re thinking really hard about something.”

“Is it that obvious?” You let out a small breath, laughing nervously. 

“Little bit.” He said and your heart pounded.

Just do it!

“Actually,” you started, your voice catching before you steadied it, “I…..I made something.” His gaze dropped immediately to your hand.

“The thing you’ve been holding onto like your life depends on it?” Yixiang asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You groaned softly. “Please don’t say it like that.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He huffed out a quiet laugh, “Let me see?” Your fingers tightened for just a second before you stepped forward (an unnecessary step) and held it out to him.

Yixiang took it carefully, more careful than you expected, his rings cool against your skin as his fingers brushed yours, your brain almost stopped.

“You made this?” he asked, the teasing edge in his expression softened, something more thoughtful settling in its place as he turned the bracelet slightly between his fingers, tracing the threads, the details.

“Yeah,” you said, suddenly very aware of the distance between you. “I—um—I remembered you said you liked stuff like that, so I thought—”

“It’s nice,” he cut in gently.

Your breath hitched. Tension is the enemy of a good kiss.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nodded once, still looking at it. “It’s…..really nice.” Relief bloomed in your chest, warm and bright and terrifying all at once.

“This is for me?” he asked, glancing back up at you. You nodded, a small pause. “What’s the occasion?”

And there it was. Your moment of salvation.

Your stomach flipped. Your fingers curled slightly around your cup, grounding yourself as you forced the words past the sudden tightness in your throat.

“I just—” you started, then stopped, letting out a breath. “I wanted to tell you something.”

“Oookay.” Yixiang drawled, expression not changing, “Go on, I’m listening.” You swallowed.

Now.

“I like you,” You said, the words rushing out before you could stop them. “I have for a while, actually, and I just—I wanted you to know. And I thought maybe—” your voice faltered, “—maybe you’d feel the same. Or…..something like that.”

Euijoo once told you a quote that he had made up on a June evening—‘Silence is the food of love’. You had zero idea what he meant by that but you went along anyway, letting him brush a strand of hair behind your ear as you two ate pizza.

This silence was torturous, long enough for your heartbeat to feel unbearably loud. Yixiang blinked once, then looked down at the bracelet again, turning it slowly between his fingers.

And then he laughed. It would have been better if he laughed loudly in a mocking way as he usually did, throwing his head back and practically bellowing. 

But oh the way he laughed now, so softly and gently, as one does to comfort a child who’s had a nightmare. You felt your heart melt in its cage, he laughed so kindly.

“Hey,” He said, stepping a little closer. His hand came up, resting lightly on your shoulder, warm and steady, and somehow, apologetic.

“You’re really sweet,” he said, voice gentler now. “Like—really. This?” he lifted the bracelet slightly, “This is probably one of the nicest things anyone’s done for me.” Your throat tightened. “But…” he continued, and the word felt inevitable.

“I don’t think I’m your guy.”

The sentence landed softly, spoken like a poem. But god it still landed. You forced yourself to hold his gaze. He didnt even look uncomfortable or weirded out, he just looked so fucking calm. And you were drowning in the ocean.

“I’m just—not really looking for anything like that,” he went on, his thumb brushing lightly over the threads of the bracelet. “And even if I was…” he exhaled quietly, a small, almost self-aware smile tugging at his lips, “you’re not really my type.”

It was the fact that he said it so gently, practically cajoling you. He could have, should have, screamed it at you instead, laughed cruel and high and told you to piss off. But he said it like he was comforting you, letting you down easy and then you felt the ocean rise higher.

“I mean that in the best way,” he added quickly, his hand giving your shoulder a small squeeze. “You’re—good. Like, actually good. You deserve someone who’s gonna… I don’t know, not be me.”

All you wanted was him.

“I-” You started, eyes at the floor, your breaths coming a bit too quick, like you couldn't get enough air.

“Are you alright, sweetheart? Should I call Euijoo or—”

“No.” The word came out faster than you intended. You shook your head immediately, stepping back. “I’m fine,” you said quickly, even though it was obvious you weren’t. “I just—need some air.” You didn’t wait for a response, didn’t give him time to say anything else that might make this worse, or kinder, or harder to leave.

You turned and walked out. You made it through the kitchen, past the doorway, back into the chaos of the party. The music slammed into you again, loud and disorienting, lights flashing too bright, people moving too close. It felt suffocating now—every laugh too sharp, every voice too loud.

Your vision blurred at the edges as you pushed through the crowd, murmuring quiet apologies when you bumped into someone, your grip tightening around nothing now—the cup long forgotten somewhere behind you.

Don’t cry.

Don’t cry.

Don’t—

By the time you reached the door, your steps had quickened. By the time you stepped outside, you were running. The cool night air hit you like a shock, sharp against your skin, but it didn’t help. If anything, it made everything worse, made it all feel too real.

Your vision blurred completely now, tears spilling over before you could stop them, breath hitching as you stumbled a few steps forward, arms wrapping around yourself like you could hold everything in.

It hurt.

God it fucking hurt.

__________

Euijoo was known among your circle of friends for being highly perceptive. He somehow knew exactly what someone was going through even before that person could get a word out. He didn't need the other person to say a word—he’d just sit there in silence alongside them, tissues and water in hand, until they were ready to talk or cry.

Euijoo didn’t hear what was said—didn’t need to. He saw the way you moved, too fast, too abrupt, your head down and your shoulders tight. And then you were gone out the door before he could even say anything. 

Euijoo straightened instantly, the cup in his hand abandoned on the nearest surface without a second thought. Something sharp surged through him, cutting clean through everything else as he moved 

“Hey—where are you—” His friend Fuma started, but he was already pushing past, eyes fixed on the door you had disappeared through.

“Euijoo!” A hand caught his arm briefly. He turned, just enough to see Yixiang standing there, brows drawn slightly, gaze flicking toward the door and then back to him.

“Are you—” Yixiang began, an uncertain tone to his voice. His gaze darted toward the door, then back to Euijoo like he was trying to piece something together too late. “Just tell her I’m sorry.” 

The words hung there for a second. Euijoo held his gaze for just a moment longer, something unreadable passing through his eyes. Then he gave a small nod.

“It’s not your fault, Nicho.” He sighed, “She’s just….” He thought about it for a second and then shook his head, looking up at Yixiang with a faint smile, “I’ll tell her.”

Yixiang nodded, hand slipping away from his arm as he disappeared into the party, and for a fraction of a second, Euijoo stayed there. 

Thinking, pondering, wondering……whatever other synonym for his brain sending him thoughts existed. Beneath that anger and ache and every other fucked up emotion tangled within the crevices of his heart, there lay something else. Something he hated himself for. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, gone almost as soon as it appeared.

You were hurting.

And entirely his to take care of now.

Euijoo turned without another word, pushing through the door and into the cool night air, his eyes already searching for his car. You probably would have ran all the way home—in heels? Sure an unlikely probability but hey, a broken heart is capable of wonderous things.

Truly wonderous things.

________________

“Love?” Euijoo knocked on the door as softly as he could, knuckles barely making a sound against the wood—like anything louder might shatter whatever fragile state you were in on the other side.

For a moment, there was nothing, neither movement nor sound. Just the quiet hum of the night stretching between him and you. He shifted his weight slightly, jaw tightening, resisting the urge to knock again. His hands curled at his sides instead, forcing himself to be patient.

You’d open it. You always did.

A faint sound finally came from inside—shuffling, uneven footsteps and the soft click of the lock. And then the door creaked open.

Euijoo swore he’d never seen anyone this beautiful before. 

Eyes glassy, our cheeks were flushed a deep, aching red, tear tracks visible under the dim porch light. You'd changed out from your dress, wearing an oversized shirt and shorts now. Your hair—usually so carefully done—had fallen loose and messy, strands sticking to your damp skin, framing your face in a way that stole the breath from his lungs. The Goddess of beauty could have stood in front of him and all he’d see was you.

Every piece of you was laid bare in front of him and something in his mind told him to be proud of this fact. Only he could see you like this. So unperfectly perfect.

“Hey,” he said quietly. Your lips parted like you were about to say something—maybe to explain, maybe to brush it off, maybe to tell him you were fine, but nothing came out.

Instead, your face crumpled and that was enough. Euijoo didn’t wait for any more words. He stepped forward gently, one hand coming up instinctively to cradle the side of your head as he pulled you into him, the other wrapping around your shoulders, steady and firm.

“I’ve got you.” He murmured, voice low. “It’s okay, I’m right here, love.”

His sweet voice was all it took.

The tears came again, stronger this time, your body folding into his as a broken sob left your chest, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing holding you up. He held you tighter, one hand smoothing over your hair, slow and repetitive, the other pressed securely against your back as he guided you inside without breaking the hold.

“Come on.” He said softly, nudging the door shut behind him with his foot. “Let’s just sit down, yeah?”

You nodded weakly, though your grip on him didn’t loosen. Euijoo led you to the couch, movements careful, like you might fall apart if he went too fast. He sat first, gently pulling you down with him, guiding you until you were tucked against his side.

He adjusted so you were comfortable, your head resting naturally against his shoulder, his arm wrapping around you properly. Your breaths came uneven, breaking apart into soft, shaky sobs that you tried to stifle but couldn’t quite manage. Your fingers curled into his shirt, holding on like you were afraid he might disappear if you let go.

Euijoo didn’t say anything. He just stayed, one hand moving slowly through your hair, untangling gentle knots, tucking strands away from your face. The other rubbed small, steady circles into your arm with a quiet rhythm.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Euijoo murmured, tilting his head slightly toward yours.

“For not listening to you.” You said, barely lifting your head, “You know….when you said I’m not his type and he’d probably just—”

“Hey, no.” Euijoo said, arm tightening around you like he was physically stopping the thought from going any further. “Don’t do that.” You let out a weak, shaky breath, your fingers curling tighter into his shirt.

“But you were right,” you whispered, voice small, almost embarrassed. “You told me and I still—I still went and—”

“And what?” He cut in softly. There was that familiar soft scolding tone to his voice, “You liked someone,” he continued, a little quieter now. “And you told them. That’s not something you apologize for, love.”

“It feels stupid,” you admitted, your voice cracking again. “I made that bracelet and everything and I just—I really thought—” Your words dissolved into another broken breath. Euijoo’s hand slowed in your hair, his fingers smoothing gently over the strands before resting briefly at the back of your head. 

“It’s not stupid, love.” Euijoo said, after a brief moment of calming silence, “It’s just….life.” You laughed against his shoulder but he continued, “That doesn’t make it stupid,” he said. “It just means he didn’t feel the same.”

“That’s worse.” You mumbled and a quiet exhale left him.

Well wouldn't he know?

“Yeah,” he admitted. “It kind of is.”

“I just—” you swallowed, your voice smaller now, worn out from crying, “I really liked him, Euijoo.”

“I know,” he murmured, oh if only you knew.

“I thought……maybe if I did it right—if I was…” you hesitated, searching for the word, “enough—”

“Hey.”

This time it wasn’t just his voice. His hand shifted from your hair to gently cup the side of your face, guiding you to look up at him. Your eyes met his and you almost gasped at how gentle they were.

“Don’t finish that sentence like that,” he said quietly. There was something different in his expression now, something a little more serious, “You being ‘enough’ has nothing to do with whether he likes you or not.”

Your brows pulled together slightly, like you didn’t quite believe him. Euijoo’s thumb brushed lightly under your eye, catching a tear before it could fall.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, love.” he continued. “You didn’t mess it up. You didn’t say it weird or give the wrong thing or pick the wrong moment.” A small pause. “He just wasn’t the right person to hear it.”

The words settled between you, softly heavy. Your gaze stayed on his for a moment longer than before, like you were trying to find something in them—something steady enough to latch onto and pull yourself up.

“I just…” you exhaled shakily, “I really thought tonight would be different.” Euijoo didn’t interrupt, just watching you, “I even thought…” you let out a small, almost embarrassed laugh, dropping your gaze again, “I thought maybe I’d have my second kiss tonight.”

Byun Euijoo was a man of many talents.

Stopping the blood rushing to his dick at those words was not one of them.

“Your second kiss?” He said, voice somehow very steady. 

“Yeah.” You laughed again, wiping your tears and sniffling, “You were my first, remember?”

Oh.

Right.

Your….first…kiss….

Euijoo went very still, chest tightening at the memory, sweet as honey straight from the comb. He swallowed, staring, just staring at you. You were talking about something else now with shy laughs and not one word was going through his head. All he could see was the fact that he was his sweet girl’s first kiss. 

“I don’t know....” You sighed, not noticing the storm brewing in his gaze, too busy fiddling with your fingers, “Maybe I was overthinking it. Maybe kissing him wouldn't have felt that good.” You shook your head faintly, “You know, like how it felt with you.”

God should have struck Byun Euijoo and his dick-controlled mind down right there and then.

Well at least before he said his next words.

“Would you like to feel like that again?” 

Great job, you horny idiot.

“Mmh?” You said, looking up at him with those widened eyes, “Did you say something Ju?”

God this girl is testing me. Euijoo's jaw clenched, his mind reeling from the image of your lips on anyone else. No, you were his to cherish, to claim in ways that would erase any doubt. He swallowed hard, voice dropping to a low, husky rumble that sent shivers down your spine. 

“I asked—” He leaned closer, half lidded eyes flickering down to your lips and staying there, “—if you’d like to feel like that again, love?”

They say seduction is a delicate art—fragile like a domino, one wrong move and poof! Everything is gone. However, when one’s mind is high under the influence of stupid, stupid human emotions, the domino will stay upright no matter what western wind hits it.

“Only if you want to, love.” Euijoo said, tilting his head with a soft smile, “I just want to make you feel better, you know that right?”

Your eyes widened, cheeks flushing hot as his words sank in. Hesitation flickered through you—nerves twisting in your stomach at the implication—but the trust you'd placed in him, the way he'd always made you feel safe, pulled you under. 

Euijoo was your best friend, of course he’d only want the best for you right? His soft gaze was locked onto you, a gentle anchor in the storm. 

“Yeah….” You nodded slowly, barely a whisper escaping, “Yeah I think I’d like that, Ju.”

Euijoo’s warm smile eased the tension in your chest as he brought a hand up to cup your cheek, running a thumb over the skin. You let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch without protest.

“Just…..tell me if you want to stop.” 

Before you could respond, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

Yeah, like he was ever going to stop.

It was soft at first, a tender kiss meant to soothe. You hesitated, your shyness making your cheeks flush, but the fucked up emotions bubbling inside you craved the comfort. And something else inside you was starved of this kind of touch. You parted your lips, letting him deepen the kiss, unaware of the drastic effect it was having on your best friend. His mouth moved against yours with affectionate slowness, his tongue slipping in to taste you, coaxing a quiet sigh from your throat.

“Ju….” You said, melting into the kiss, one hand resting on his chest while the other rested on his shoulder.

“Hmm?” Euijoo said, pulling back just enough, his eyes dark, “Do you want to stop, love?” 

In hindsight, you probably should have stopped. You had maybe two cups of shitty alcohol in you and he was your best friend. But for some stupid reason he tasted soooo good. And no one gives up nectar do they?

“Want more.” You said, breathing a bit heavy, eyes flickering down to his plump lips, “Please?”

Byun Euijoo was a dead man as soon as those syllables spilled from your mouth.

“More?” He said, his hand cupping the back of your neck, lips curving into a faint smile. His free arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush, his erection already hardening against your thigh—a thick, insistent bulge that made you gasp. 

“More what, my love?”

My love.

In that moment, Euijoo looked simply divine—the golden light of the lamplight illuminating his soft features, those plush cheeks and those eyes that seemed like deep pools of honey. He always called you ‘love’. He’d never called you his love before though. And some part of you really really liked it.

“Euijoo….” You sighed, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks and other parts of your body, “I want you to kiss me.” His eyes darkened at your response, a small smirk playing on his lips. You giggled, feeling every emotion in the world get to your brain all at once, “I want you to kiss me aaalll over.”  

Now who was Euijoo to deny you? A best friend that behaved like a best friend? Please. 

“As you wish, my love.” 

In an instant, he closed the distance, his large hand cupping the back of your neck as he drew you in. His lips crashed against yours, hungry, tongue slipping past to taste you properly. You melted into the kiss, your frame pressing against his solid chest.

The kiss grew hungrier as you melted into it, your hands clutching at his shirt. Euijoo's fingers threaded through your hair, holding you steady as your tongues danced. He nipped at your bottom lip, drawing a small gasp from you, and you felt the tension in your body start to uncoil. Making out with him felt so intimate and unhurried, pushing everything else—Yixiang, false personas, bracelets—to the edges of your mind and replacing it with the heat building between you.

Euijoo’s hands moved to grip your hips, lifting you up effortlessly. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist, gasping as sat you down on his lap. It was nothing much—you had sat there multiple times in the past. But you were just friends back then and now you were…..something else. 

"E-Euijoo..." You breathed out, tangling your fingers in his hair as he started to trail kisses along your jawline. His teeth nipped at your earlobe, sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

“Mmhh, you’re such a pretty girl.” Euijoo murmured against your skin, his hands sliding down to grip your ass. “So fucking beautiful.”

He ground his hips against yours, letting you feel just how hard he was. The friction of his erection rubbing against your clothed core had you squirming and mewling, desperate for more.

“Ju I—”

“Let me take care of you, love.” Euijoo pulled back just enough to speak, his forehead resting against yours, breath mingling, “I’ll make it all go away for you.” HIs voice was so very low, like a soft desperate prayer, “Do you trust me?”

You nodded, your heart pounding. Innocence clung to you like a veil—you'd never gone this far, never let anyone touch you like this. The thought of it scared you, made your stomach twist with nerves. But it was Euijoo. And Euijoo would never want to hurt you right?

“Are you sure?” You said, your voice trembling, “What if I don’t…you know—” You swallowed, god the thought of your first time being unsexy as fuck terrified you, “do it right?”

But Euijoo, sweet sweet Euijoo only smiled gently, cupping your face in his hands. His hands were the most familiar thing in the world, and right now, they felt like home.

“There is no right way, baby.” He said, pressing a kiss to your nose, “I’ll go slow alright? Just relax for me, hm?” His words wrapped around you like a blanket, reassuring and warm, easing the fear knotting in your chest.

His hand slid down your side, fingers splaying over your hip, thumb brushing the edge of your shirt. You whimpered, the sound fueling his desire, and he guided you backward toward the couch, laying you down with careful strength.

You looked like the most ethereal thing in the world—the kind of thing poets would write about when they tried to describe beautiful things. The kind of thing the gods would fight over—with your hair splayed all over, chest rising up and down and your flushed cheeks. Pretty, pretty girl.

Euijoo’s hands roamed your body over your clothes at first, tracing your curves until you arched into him. He kissed down your neck, sucking lightly on your skin as he tugged your shirt up and off, exposing your bra. You shivered, feeling exposed yet safe under his gaze.

“Euijoo…” you breathed, fingers tangling in his hair.

He laid you down gently on the couch, his kisses trailing lower, over your stomach, fingers hooking into your shorts and tugging them down along with your panties.  Naked now, vulnerable, you tried to close your thighs, but he nudged them apart with his knee, settling between.

Euijoo hovered over you, his weight a comforting cage as he kissed you again, slower now. His tongue explored your mouth, intoxicating strokes that left you breathless, while his hand ventured to your skin, palm warm against you. You arched into his touch, innocence cracking under the wave of need he ignited.

“So fucking beautiful baby.” He whispered, voice rough. You squirmed beneath him, heat pooling between your legs as he lavished attention on your body, kissing your thigh softly. His eyes darkened with desire as he looked at your bare pussy, already glistening from the make-out session.

God she’s so adorable.

Euijoo leaned down, mouth latching onto one peak, sucking firmly while his thick fingers teased the other, pinching just enough to draw a gasp from you. The size of his hand dwarfed your chest, making every caress feel overwhelmingly possessive. 

You knew what he was going to do—stick those thick, girthy fingers into your wet folds and make you see heaven. You’d read about it so many times, letting your little fingers wander and leave you on the edge of an orgasm but never quite hit that sweet spot. Would your best friend really be able to reach it?

“Love.” Euijoo said, calling your gaze to his, “Just breathe for me, alright? I’ll go slow, I promise.” How sweet he sounded, even as his index finger nudged dangerously high up your inner thigh. The size of his hands made your breath hitch; you were so very untouched and you weren’t sure if they were even going to fit. 

But then he was pushing one finger inside and your back was already arching, your head pressing deeper back into the cushion as your mouth hung open in an ‘o’. The stretch burned slightly as your walls gripped him tight tight tight.

“Fuck you’re tight.” Euijoo swore under his breath, tilting his head at you, eyes full of (faux) sympathy, “You want me to continue baby?” He was fighting a battle with himself not to moan at your already fucked out face, hair sprawled all over, those eyes looking up at him so very drunkenly. 

“Hmmm…” You hummed, “Feel so good Ju….want more, please?” 

Oh you were going to be the death of him.

“Of course, my love.” His touch was electric, making a string of whimpers seep out of your mouth. His eyes went to where he had breached you and Euijoo almost moaned. You were taking his finger so well, he couldn't help but imagine you taking his cock.

You moaned loud, the discomfort fading into bliss, and he added a second finger, scissoring to stretch you wider. The fullness was intense, the girth filling you in a way that bordered on too much, but the pleasure overrode it. 

“Oh oh fuck!” You screamed as he curled his fingers to hit a particular spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids, “Euijoo right there—oh goddd….”

So that was where your clit was. And how easily Euijoo found it, as if he’d been training for this moment his entire life. How funny it was that your best friend knew you so very well.

“Right there?” Euijoo cooed, now rubbing slow circles on your clit with his thumb, his ego was filled to the brim that he’d found her so quick, “You like that, my love?” He thrust them deeper, thumb on your clit, and your orgasm crashed over you easily—body shaking, pussy clenching around his fingers as you cried out his name.

That precipice of pleasure you’d always stood at but never crossed was gone now, and you were floating in the ocean, the waves cradling you to their warmth. You cried out his name like a ballad, body trembling as he coaxed you through it, whispering how good you were for him. 

 As you came down, panting, he withdrew his fingers slowly, bringing them to his mouth to lick them clean. The sight made your core clench again, a fresh wave of heat flooding you. His tongue swirled round his finger like he was licking up nectar. Euijoo watched you with affectionate eyes, leaning down to kiss you, letting you taste yourself.

“See how sweet you are?” He murmured, one hand gripping your thigh open, “I’m just going to do something, and I promise it’ll feel good, okay?” 

You merely nodded, desperate now to feel that wave of pleasure in your chest again. Whatever Euijoo did would feel like heaven and you were up for it wholeheartedly.

Euijoo's gaze locked onto yours, dark with desire, as he slid down your body slowly. His hands parted your thighs wider, making you shiver in anticipation. He settled between your legs like he belonged, his breath ghosting over your sensitive skin, sending sparks racing up your spine.

Without a word, Euijoo dipped his head and pressed his mouth to your pussy, his tongue flicking out to trace a long, firm stroke from your entrance to your clit. The warmth of his tongue contrasted with the lingering ache from your recent orgasm, reigniting the fire in your core. You gasped, hips bucking instinctively toward him, but he held you steady with firm hands on your inner thighs.

"Stay still, love," he murmured against your skin, the vibration of his voice humming through you. 

Then he dove in fully, his lips sealing around your clit, sucking gently at first, drawing it between his teeth with just enough pressure to make your toes curl. His tongue swirled in tight, insistent circles, lapping at the swollen nub with expert precision, as if mapping every nerve ending.

Pleasure built rapidly, a coiling tension in your belly that had you threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. Euijoo groaned in response, the sound muffled as he buried his face deeper, his nose brushing your mound while his tongue delved lower. You tasted like no heaven could ever compare. 

He licked broad stripes along your slit, gathering your arousal on his tongue before plunging it inside you, fucking you with shallow thrusts that mimicked what he needed to do with his currently painfully hard cock. Your breaths came in ragged pants, each lap and suck sending jolts of ecstasy radiating outward. 

"Euijoo... oh! Just like that—oh fuck Ju!" you whimpered, your body arching off the couch. He hummed approval, the vibration intensifying everything, and alternated between sucking your clit hard and flattening his tongue to rub firm, relentless pressure over it.

He was relentless, affectionate in his hunger, one hand sliding up to pinch and roll your nipple while the other kept your thigh pinned. Your pussy throbbed under his assault, walls fluttering as another climax approached, faster and fiercer than the last. 

Euijoo sensed it, redoubling his efforts—tongue flicking rapidly, lips tugging, until you shattered again, crying out as waves of bliss crashed through you, your release coating his chin.

He didn't stop, gentling his touches to guide you through the aftershocks, kissing your inner thighs softly before looking up at you with a satisfied, glistening smile. 

“Taste so perfect, my love.” He said, voice husky, crawling back up to claim your lips in a deep, sharing kiss, “So good for me…” 

“Ju…” You kissed him back, mind already hazy, “Euijoo…..want moreee..” You were whining away your words, not even sure if they were coherent enough. Euijoo only chuckled.

“More?” He said, eyes meeting yours with a spark of deeper hunger, “Baby, aren’t you tired?” The afterglow of your orgasms lingered, but the air between you crackled with unspoken want.

“Mmmhh…” You moaned, staring up at him with half-lidded eyes that made his dick twitch, “—promised you’d make me feel good….” You were blabbering yet again, trying and failing to raise your hips to meet his pelvis, “want your cock Ju please please pleeaseeee…”

It was in that moment that Byun Euijoo truly realised the beauty of life. The day had started off with him waking up to a raging boner because of a wet dream with you and now the sun was about to set with his cock nestled deep in your warm walls. Life was amazing.

“Oh?” Euijoo said, his voice roughened by desire, “What was that sweetheart?” 

“Want your cock…” You whined again, bold hands coming up to tug at his hair. You pulled him down for a sloppy kiss and Euijoo swore he could have busted a nut right there and then, “Please Ju?” 

“Of course, my love.” He cooed at you, as he scooped you up effortlessly, your body limp against his chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck, heart racing at the intimacy of being carried like this.

He carried you up the stairs to the bedroom, the door clicking shut behind him as he laid you down on the soft sheets. The sheets you two had once cuddled in, talked each other’s ears off and cried your hearts out. The very bedroom Byun Euijoo would be making use of the one talent he commanded well. What is it, you may ask? Taking the virginity of his best friend, of course. 

You bit your lip, hesitation flooding back as he stripped off his shirt, revealing the lean muscles of his torso. His pants followed, and when he pushed down his boxers, your eyes widened at the sight of his cock—thick and long, veins pulsing along its length, the head already leaking pre-cum. 

The size of it dwarfed anything you'd imagined, making your untouched pussy clench in a mix of fear and curiosity. Thought of him inside you sent a cold shiver down your spine. And heat to your legs but never mind that. 

“Ju…” You murmured, voice trembling as you sat up slightly, pulling the sheet over yourself, “I don’t know if I can…”

Euijoo knelt on the bed, his hands gentle as he pulled the sheet away, exposing you again. The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing over your features, making you look even more beautiful. 

“Hey, look at me.” He said softly, cupping your face. His thumb brushed your cheek, eyes locking onto yours with that loving reassurance, “You trust me right? I’ll make it good for you baby, I swear.” His words melted your resistance, “But if you want to stop, just tell me and I’ll stop, hm?”

You nodded, lying back as he positioned himself between your legs, his broad frame hovering over you. He kissed you deeply, tongue stroking yours to distract and soothe, while one hand guided his cock to your entrance. 

In all honesty you couldn't believe this was happening. You'd always imagined your first time, chocolates, candles and roses and a man with a brow piercing. You’d imagined softness, hands perfectly molded and the feeling of ultimate pleasure.

Euijoo’s hand was warmly familiar in yours and the scent of him was comforting, chocolates and roses and soft laughter that never failed to steady the ground beneath your feet. You let yourself sink into the mattress, going almost dumb and pliant for him. My my, did he look weirdly gorgeous.

Euijoo gripped the base of his cock, guiding the thick head to your entrance, rubbing it slowly along your folds to coat himself in your wetness. The pressure against your clit made you gasp, a fresh spark of arousal igniting low in your belly.

“Breathe for me, my love.” Euijoo whispered in your ear, kissing just beneath it, one of his hands entwined in yours and the other holding your hip.

“Euijoo….” 

And then you could feel him everywhere. 

From between your legs to your chest to your throat, everything was just Euijoo Euijoo Euijoo. Sweet Euijoo, pretty Euijoo, your Euijoo. 

“Baby?” Euijoo panted, ever so worried about you even when his dick was being squeezed for all it was worth by your walls, “Baby, you with me?” His hand intertwined with yours, squeezed gently as he paused, not even halfway in yet. You were just too damn tight. 

“Ju ohhhh…” You groaned, eyes rolling to the back of your head, “feel so—fuckkkk—feel so full Ju…”

And he wasn't even halfway in. 

Euijoo's dick twitched again as he chuckled and brought his hand up to cradle your cheek. “I know, my love I know. I’m going to push in, ok?”

The stretch burned as he pushed, his thickness forcing your walls to yield. You gasped, nails digging into his shoulders, the pain sharp and unfamiliar. “It hurts..” you whimpered, tears pricking your pretty eyes, which only drove Euijoo more insane. He paused, letting you adjust, his breath warm against your lips.

"That's it, you're doing so well," he praised, voice low and soothing. He kissed you softly, tongue slipping in to distract as he sank deeper, filling you halfway before stopping again. Your body tensed, god you were so fucking full, but the ache blended with a deep, throbbing pleasure that made your toes curl.

“Euijoo…..oh…” You moaned sweetly against his lips.

“ know, shh…” he breathed against your lips, freezing until you adjusted. “Breathe with me. You're so tight, taking me like this—fuck, you're perfect.” 

Inch by breathtaking inch, he sank deeper, his cock filling you completely, the size making you feel impossibly stretched. He bottomed out with a groan, hips flush against yours, and held still, letting you acclimate to the fullness.

“Are you alright, my love?” Euijoo said, eyes tracing over you, “Open your eyes baby, let me see those pretty eyes, thaaat’s a good girl.”

“So good Ju….” You moaned, the air whooshing out your lungs at the sight of him, strands of hair falling onto his forehead, slightly hiding his eyes, plush pink kissable lips, “Move…please.”

The pain ebbed into a dull ache, replaced by a growing warmth as he began to move—shallow thrusts at 

first, pulling out just enough to slide back in. You moaned softly, the sound escaping unbidden, your body betraying your initial hesitation.

"Feels good?" he asked, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. You bit your lip, nodding, shifting your hips experimentally.

His pace was unhurried, each thrust long and measured, draaagging his cock along your inner walls to hit sensitive spots that made constellations flicker in your vision. The friction built gradually, your arousal easing the way, turning the stretch into pure bliss.

Euijoo's hand released yours to brace on the mattress beside your head, his other sliding under your thigh to hook your leg higher on his waist. This angle let him grind deeper, the head of his cock nudging your cervix with each full stroke, sending jolts of pleasure radiating through your core. You moaned, wrapping your arms around Euijoo’s neck, pulling him closer as your bodies moved in sync like voices harmonizing. 

He kissed your neck, sucking lightly at the skin while his hips rolled steadily, fucking you with a rhythm that was both tender and insistent. Sweat beaded on his skin, his lean muscles flexing with every controlled push, the dim light casting shadows that highlighted the intimacy of it all. Your pussy fluttered around him, growing wetter, the lewd sounds of skin meeting skin filling the room alongside your shared breaths.

Your whines grew louder, pornographic moans spilling out as you clutched at him, hips starting to rock in rhythm. The corruption of your innocence fueled his desire—he watched your face contort in bliss, his shy girl giving way to raw need. It snapped something in him; his eyes darkened, grip tightening on your hips as he went feral.

“Fuck baby—ah hahh—sound so pretty for me—shit…” He growled, thrusting harder now, the bed creaking under the force. 

His cock pounded into you, relentless and deep, the size making every plunge overwhelming. You cried out, legs wrapping around his waist, the pain fully forgotten in the haze of ecstasy. Euijoo buried his face in your neck, teeth grazing your skin before biting down—sharp nips that marked you as his, followed by his tongue licking the spots soothingly. 

“Mine.” He murmured between licks, sucking at your pulse point while his hips snapped forward, “Mine all mine, aren’t you pretty girl?” The loving bites sent jolts straight to your core, heightening the build-up, “Say it for me, my love.”

“Y-Yours…..” You managed to stutter out, almost screaming when his hand slipped between your bodies to circle your clit with his thumb, “Yours Euijoo! God, only yours—oh fuck fuck!”

The first orgasm hit you suddenly, your pussy clamping down on his thick length as waves crashed through you. “Euijoo!” you sobbed, body arching off the bed. He didn't slow, fucking you through it, his groans vibrating against your neck.

“One more, my love.” he demanded, voice husky with control, “You can do it, I know you can.” 

His thrusts turned punishing, cock stretching you wide with each brutal drive. He bit your neck again, harder this time, tongue lapping at the sting as his hand pinned your thigh open wider. The coil in your belly tightened, pleasure mounting with each deep plunge.

"Euijoo... closer," you gasped, and he obliged, draping his body over yours fully, his chest pressing to your breasts as he thrust harder but still languidly, drawing out every inch. 

Your orgasm hit like a slow wave this time, crashing over you in shuddering pulses, your pussy milking his cock as you cried out, nails raking down his back. Cum leaked from where you joined, your moans turning to breathless pleas.

Euijoo followed soon after, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a guttural moan, his bites softening to tender licks as he rode out his release. He rocked through it, prolonging both your releases, before collapsing gently beside you, both panting in the afterglow. He pulled you into his arms, his hand smoothing over the back of your head, cock still twitching inside as he kissed your marked neck.

“You did so well.” He shepherd, kissing the crown of your head, holding you close in the quiet of the room, “Perfect, my love.” 

 His heart pounded against your ear, the steady rhythm gradually slowing as exhaustion seeped into your bones. Euijoo eventually pulled out as slowly as he could, peppering your face with soft kisses as he did, fingers combing through your hair in soothing strokes.

“Hmm Euijoo…” You hummed sleepily, opening your eyes only a slight crack.

“Yes, love?” 

“I think….” You giggled tiredly, wrapping your arms around him, “I don't like Yixiang any more.”

“Oh?” Euijoo fought his smile back, tucking your head under his chin as he rolled onto his side, keeping you firmly tucked against his chest, “Then who do you like baby?” 

Your breathing evened out, growing slow and steady. Euijoo watched as your lashes fluttered closed, a look of pure adoration on his face. 

“I think I like you…” You mumbled, “I think I really really like you.” You giggled drunkenly again, “Is that stupid Ju?” 

For a moment, Euijoo didn’t breathe. The words were quiet, slurred with sleep, barely more than a murmur but they settled into him like something sacred, like something that had been waiting patiently for a place to land.

I think I really, really like you

His chest tightened first, sharp, almost startling  before it gave way to something warmer. It spread slowly, blooming beneath his ribs, petal by petal, until it filled him completely. Achingly, impossibly full.

He looked down at you, half-curled against him, your face relaxed in sleep, lashes resting gently against your cheeks. You had no idea what you’d just done to him, no idea how those few drowsy words had unraveled something deep inside his chest.

“No my love, it’s not stupid.” He hummed, thumb brushing absent circles against your arm as if to pull himself to earth, “It’s not stupid at all.”  Euijoo swallowed, his hold on you tightening instinctively, like some small, instinctive part of him was afraid you might slip away if he didn’t, “I really really like you too.” 

“Mmmh good.” You mumbled before giving in to your sleep, your breathing becoming more shallow as you drifted off to sleep. 

“You have no idea, do you?” Euijoo murmured under his breath, voice so soft it barely existed. His lips pressed gently to your hair again, lingering this time.

 "I love you," he whispered, voice hoarse with emotion. "So fucking much." Carefully, like you were something fragile, he pulled you closer and for once, he let himself feel it fully. As the last rays of sun faded from the sky, Euijoo followed you into a peaceful slumber.

Byun Euijoo was a man of many talents.

Getting his girl was now officially one of them.

fin. 

A/N: gang im not lying i legit came writing this fic UGH BYUN EUIJOO MY MAN MY MAN MY MAN if yall know anything about me you guys know i am no 1 cheater BUT I HAVE LEGIT NEVER CHEATED ON THIS MAN WITH ANYBODY ELSE IN &TEAM like that's the power he holds over me. anyways im gonna go stare at his concept photos now bye

divider by @pepsipoet

[pglpblm]

This was a damnnnn good fic dear lordy lordddd

i love everything about this story!!! as a writer, juju's internal dialogue is perfect!! Freaking exceptional!!!

the way op writes juju makes me root for his character so bad!! he's got this loveable loser vibe going on that i love so much ughhhh

oh, and the imagery???? please go be a writing professor or something because woahhhhhhhhh

this fic is like a glass of fresh orange juice on a summer afternoon

i'll definitely reblog again with specific lines that totally did me in!! i had to check it out because i'm yet to recover from this writer's husband!fuma fic

[jongst4r]

a random thought in my head about reader being an 02 and being friends with the 02z of &team and everytime she’s over she’s always looking at fuma thinking he doesn’t notice and just her having the biggest crush on him but being too shy to even speak to him. UGH i need him so bad.

i love this so much how can such a big guy be that much of a cutie patootie and a softie and UGH <///3

warnings: none, it's all cutesy <3 (but nico and juju tease reader 🤡)

you’ve known nicholas and euijoo for years, they’re your fellow 02z. it’s always been easy with them: late-night gaming sessions, dumb inside jokes no one else understands, and that comforting feeling of being with people who grew up in the same world you did. whenever you hang out at the dorms, it’s like slipping into a second home.

but there’s one complication. fuma.

the first time you met him, it was casual — nicholas introducing you with that grin of his, “she’s our friend, she’s one of us, so be nice.” you laughed it off, bowing politely, thinking nothing of it. but then fuma looked up at you, and there was something in the way his eyes softened, the way his smile curved, that lodged itself somewhere deep in your chest.

and now, every time you’re over, it’s the same cycle. you’ll be sprawled on the couch next to euijoo, pretending to care about whatever show he’s got on, but your gaze always drifts. you catch yourself staring — fuma’s hair falling into his face while he laughs at something nicholas says, his hands moving gracefully when he gestures, the little crinkle at the corner of his eyes when he smiles.

you think you’re subtle, but your heart doesn’t seem to agree. it pounds every time his shoulder brushes yours in the kitchen, every time he glances your way in the middle of a conversation.

you never talk much when he’s around. it’s not that you don’t want to — it’s that the words dry up in your throat, your shyness wrapping tight around you like a net. you’ll answer if he asks you something, always polite, but never daring to add more. and then you scold yourself later, lying awake in bed, thinking about all the things you could’ve said.

nicholas teases you sometimes. you’ll catch him giving you that knowing look when your eyes inevitably follow fuma across the room. you’ll hiss at him under your breath, “shut up,” cheeks blazing, but he just laughs, nudging you like an annoying older brother. euijoo isn’t much better, though he’s more subtle about it — the sly smile, the raised eyebrow when fuma happens to walk in and you immediately stiffen.

and fuma? god, you’re convinced he doesn’t notice. how could he? he’s older, more confident, carrying himself with that calm presence that makes everyone around him feel at ease. he’s always kind to you — offering you snacks when he’s cooking, making sure you have a blanket when the dorm gets cold — but you tell yourself that’s just who he is: kind, thoughtful, a natural caretaker, just like he acts with the rest of the group.

still, sometimes you wonder.

like the night you were all playing cards on the floor. you lost spectacularly, and nicholas was making a whole show of it, laughing so hard he nearly fell over. you were hiding your face in your hands, mortified, when fuma’s voice came, low and warm: “don’t tease her too much.” you peeked through your fingers to find him smiling at you, gentle, like he was on your side.

your stomach flipped so violently you thought you might actually throw up.

or the time you were scrolling through your phone on the couch and realized he was sitting across from you, watching something on his laptop. you kept stealing glances, thinking you were safe, when suddenly his eyes flicked up and locked on yours. you froze, deer-in-headlights, and he just… smiled. you looked away so fast your neck hurt, heart hammering against your ribs.

you tell yourself you’re just imagining it. that he probably smiles at everyone that way. but still, it lingers. the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he sees you too.

the crush eats at you in quiet moments. brushing your teeth, you’ll think about what it would feel like if he leaned down to kiss you. cooking ramen with euijoo, you’ll picture fuma wandering in, sliding his arms around your waist, murmuring something low in your ear. you know it’s hopeless, but the daydreams won’t stop.

and the worst part? the longing has started to bleed into everything. when he’s not around, you find yourself scrolling through clips of him, searching his face in group photos, listening too closely when nicholas casually mentions him. when you’re with him, you can barely breathe, trapped between wanting to disappear and wanting to stay forever.

you don’t say a word, it’s safer this way — to keep the crush tucked away in your chest. you’d rather suffer in silence than risk ruining the easy comfort you have with nicholas, euijoo, and the whole group.

still, every time fuma laughs, every time his eyes meet yours across the room, it feels less like a secret and more like a fire that won’t stop burning.

and deep down, a part of you wonders how much longer you’ll be able to keep it hidden.

it happens on one of those nights where the dorm feels too full — laughter spilling from every corner, euijoo and nicholas arguing over some game, music humming in the background. you’re curled up on the arm of the couch, pretending to scroll through your phone, but really you’re doing what you always do: sneaking glances at fuma.

he’s sitting on the floor, legs crossed, shoulders broad even in the loose hoodie he’s wearing. his hair falls forward as he focuses on whatever’s happening in front of him, but he pushes it back with those strong, veined hands, and your chest squeezes tight.

you think you’re being subtle. you always think you are.

but this time, when you look up, his eyes are already on you.

you freeze. caught.

he doesn’t look away. his gaze lingers, soft but steady, like he’s been waiting for you to finally notice. the noise of the room dulls in your ears, every sound swallowed by the sharp, fast pounding of your heart.

you tear your eyes back to your phone, cheeks blazing, hoping maybe he’ll just forget it happened. but then you hear it — your name, spoken in his voice. low. uncertain.

you glance up again, and he’s shifting closer, his large frame moving carefully, like he doesn’t want to startle you. he settles beside the couch, tilting his head up to catch your gaze, his hands resting awkwardly on his knees.

“can i… ask you something?” his words are hesitant, but his eyes are steady, searching yours.

you swallow hard. “y-yeah?”

he looks down for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek like he’s working up the courage. when he speaks again, his voice is softer, almost shy. “why do you… always look at me like that?”

your breath catches.

he must see the panic in your face, because he immediately waves his hands, stumbling over his own words. “ah, sorry, that sounded—i didn’t mean it in a bad way. i just… i notice. sometimes. a lot, actually.”

his ears are red. bright red, glowing against his pale skin. for someone built like him — tall, broad-shouldered, strong — he suddenly looks impossibly gentle, like he’s terrified of pushing you away.

you want to deny it. to laugh it off, to tell him he’s imagining things. but the way he’s looking at you — cautious, hopeful, like he already knows the truth — makes the words stick in your throat.

“i…” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. “i guess… i can’t help it.”

his eyes widen. for a moment, he just stares, lips parted, like the words short-circuited his brain. then, slowly, his expression shifts. his shoulders relax, his mouth curves, and the smallest, shyest smile spreads across his face.

“you… like me?” he asks, voice breaking a little on the last word.

you bury your face in your hands, mortified, but he laughs — soft, breathless, not mocking at all. “ah, don’t hide. please.” he gently tugs at your wrist, coaxing your hands away. “i just… i didn’t think… you’d ever feel that way about me.”

your heart stutters. “why not?”

his smile turns sheepish, his gaze dropping to his lap. “because you’re… you. and i’m… me. i’m not really good at this stuff.” he rubs the back of his neck, clearly flustered, but his words are honest. “i thought if i tried to talk to you more, i’d just mess it up.”

you blink at him, stunned. all this time you thought you were the only one tripping over your feelings.

“fuma…” you say softly, leaning down just a little, “you couldn’t mess it up.”

his head snaps up, eyes wide and shining, and for a moment he just stares, like he’s trying to commit the sight of you to memory. then, very carefully, he lifts one of those big hands and rests it near yours on the couch cushion. not touching, not yet — just close, an unspoken question.

you slide your fingers over his before you can second-guess yourself.

he exhales shakily, shoulders slumping in relief, his hand curling gently around yours.

the noise of nicholas and euijoo carries on in the background, oblivious, but in this little corner of the room, it feels like it’s only the two of you. fuma’s thumb brushes over your knuckles, tentative but tender, and he looks at you with that shy, boyish smile that makes your stomach flip all over again.

“so… you’ll keep looking at me,” he murmurs, voice almost teasing now, though still soft. “but maybe, this time, i can look back?”

your laugh is quiet, nervous, full of warmth. “yeah. i’d like that.”

and when his grip tightens just slightly, anchoring you there beside him, you realize you’re not the only one who’s been quietly longing all this time.

© jongst4r, 2025

[minhosimthings]

You, my eternity || 18+

Synopsis: Your husband just can't keep it in his pants when he sees you holding baby clothes.

Pairing: husband!fuma x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, p in v, unprotected sex (not for you), mating press, big dick fuma, size kink, breeding a shit ton of breeding, fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, dom!fuma, sub!reader, we're fucking against a wall btw, mentions of pregnancy, fuma's just horny asf, romance because obviously, yudai cameo i love him

A/N: i love you anon for requesting this, initially wrote about it here! i fainted 3497348 times writing this because lord knows im so pathetic for husband fuma THE SHIT I'D DO FOR HIM TO CALL ME DARLING THE SHIT I WOULD DO. Tagging my mother @blueuijoo because i need to get revenge 🫶 as always, enjoy, my babies!

Word Count: 6.7k (yall are getting bred good)

“What about this one? Too green?” 

Murata Fuma was a fucked man. 

He knew that the moment you had asked him to accompany him to the mall to buy presents for your best friend’s baby shower, his dick twitching at the prospect of seeing you run your hands over baby clothes. Earlier that week he had already seen you fawn over your baby nephew, holding him close to your chest and bouncing him up and down, all wide smiles and laughter that sounded poetic to him.

Murata Fuma was a fucked man everytime he thought about having children with you, laying you down on your bed and drilling you with his cock all damn night, pumping you full of his cum and waking up the next morning to go to the gynaecologist.

“Not green enough.” He chuckled, leaning against the shelf as you scanned your eyes with laser precision through all the shades of green of baby clothes neatly folded in front of you.

“Well, can’t say I trust you, baby.” You laughed, reaching to the very back of the shelf, “If it was up to you, we’d be shopping for Pokemon baby toys.”

“Hey, gotta get them in young.” Fuma shrugged his shoulders, crossing his arms and feigning deep thought as you pulled out an olive green shirt the size of his biceps, “Perfectly green enough.”

“I know right?” You smiled at him, looking down at the cloth in your hand with shining, triumphant eyes, “God, I hope she likes this.” 

“Of course she will, darling.” Fuma stepped forward slowly, filling your senses with his cologne, “You picked it out didn't you?” His hands came up to your waist, eyes fixed on your lips as he ran a tongue over his. 

Fuma stepped closer until the shelf behind you pressed lightly against your back, the tiny green shirt still clutched in your hands. You barely had time to raise an eyebrow before he leaned in.

“Fuma—” you started. But his lips met yours first.

Warm, oh so warm and certain, like he already knew you were going to laugh about it a second later. His hand stayed at your waist, steadying you as he kissed you, gentle but lingering enough that your protest turned into a muffled giggle against his mouth.

You pushed lightly at his chest. “We’re in public,” You whispered, breathless and amused.

“And?” He pulled back just a fraction, close enough that you could still feel the warmth of his breath, “Can I not kiss my darling wife in public?” The playful look in his eyes made your resolve wobble.

You shook your head, trying to look annoyed, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. For a moment you simply looked at him and something about the closeness, the familiar comfort of it, pulled you right back.

Before you could overthink it, you leaned forward again. This time the kiss was yours, soft and unhurried, your lips brushing his as if you were testing the moment rather than stealing it. His hand tightened slightly at your waist in quiet surprise, and he leaned into it instinctively, deepening the warmth of the kiss. You tasted faintly like the honey he’d put on your pancakes earlier in the morning.

When you finally pulled away, your cheeks were warm and your heart was beating a little faster than it should have been for a quiet aisle full of baby clothes. The moment sparked a memory so vividly that it made you smile.

The first time you had ever kissed each other was on your third date, You could still see the scene in your mind—your apartment lit softly by the ikea lamps you got on sale, the city lights outside the window flickering against the glass. A half-finished glass of wine sat on the table between you while the two of you talked about everything and nothing and the newest pokemon cards.

He had been sitting beside you on the couch, turning the stem of his wine glass slowly in his fingers, pretending to be calm but clearly working up the courage to do something. You had noticed of course—call it a lover’s intuition.

And when he finally leaned in that night, the kiss had been messy as messy could be, teeth accidentally bumping into each other, you almost biting his lips off and a glass of spilled wine. 

But here you were, years later, wedding band on your finger and his wine stained shirt sitting somewhere at the back of your closet. 

How beautiful a thing love was, you thought, even after all these years, kissing him felt exactly the same.

“You wanna go checkout?” You smiled, pressing your forehead to his. Fuma laughed softly.

“Five minutes more.” 

___________________

Spring had arrived softly that year.

The air in the backyard carried the faint sweetness of blooming jasmine and freshly cut grass, sunlight filtering through the branches of a large maple tree that stretched comfortably across the yard. Someone had strung delicate pastel ribbons between the branches, and they fluttered lazily whenever the breeze passed through.

Tables were arranged across the lawn with soft cream tablecloths, each one decorated with small glass jars filled with pale pink roses and sprigs of baby’s breath. A long wooden table near the patio held the gifts—colorful boxes stacked in cheerful towers. Somewhere near the fence, a group of guests laughed over plastic cups of lemonade and iced tea.

It was the kind of afternoon that felt warm without being heavy, the perfect afternoon for a baby shower.

And the perfect afternoon for Fuma to internally combust whenever he saw you.

You had chosen a soft pastel summer dress for the occasion, the color somewhere between blush pink and pale peach, the fabric light enough to move gently whenever the wind touched it. The hem reached your lower thigh, brushing lightly against your legs as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other.

Your hair caught the sunlight every time you turned your head, strands glowing gold for just a second before settling again. You sat beside the mother to be—your best friend—talking excitedly with animated gestures, your hands moving as laughter erupted.

Even from across the yard, Fuma could hear the brightness in your voice. He leaned casually against the wooden railing of the deck, a plastic cup of lemonade in his hand that he had completely forgotten to drink. His attention was fixed entirely on you, watching the way you smiled when your friend showed you a tiny pair of baby socks.

Something about it made his chest feel tight.

“Man.” The voice beside him cut through his thoughts. Yudai appeared at his shoulder, arms folded as he followed Fuma’s line of sight across the yard. It took him about half a second to realize exactly what his friend had been staring at.

“You look ridiculous.” Yudai snorted, looking ridiculous with a flower crown on his head.

“What?” Fuma said absentmindedly, not moving his eyes away from you.

“You,” Yudai said, pointing directly at his face, “look like a wide eyed idiot.”

That earned him a small huff of laughter from Fuma. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious,” Yudai continued, leaning his elbows on the railing. “You’ve been standing here staring at her for ten minutes like she’s the last person on earth.”

“That obvious?” Fuma finally looked at him. Yudai stared at him for a moment, and then burst out laughing.

“Oh my god, it’s worse than I thought.”

Across the yard, you had crouched down beside the stroller someone had brought as a decoration display, picking up a tiny stuffed bear and holding it up with a delighted smile. Your friend said something excitedly, and the two of you dissolved into laughter.

Fuma turned his attention back to you without even realizing he had done it. The sight made something warm, like coffee steam, settle in his chest.

“Oh wow,” Yudai said slowly, noticing immediately, “How close is your heart to giving out right now?”

Fuma sighed heavily, “Extremely.” The admission slipped out more easily than he expected. Yudai tilted his head, studying him.

“You know,” He said thoughtfully, “I used to think you were exaggerating when you talked about her.”

“What do you mean?” Fuma frowned, turning his attention to his older friend now.

“I mean,” Yudai gestured toward the yard, “the way you talk about her sometimes? I figured it was just normal relationship stuff.” He paused to adjust his falling crown, “But that look on your face right now?” he added with a grin. “That’s like……the exact same expression every male lead in a romance anime makes.”

Fuma leaned back against the railing, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah.” He admitted quietly.

“You’re not even going to deny it?” Yudai blinked, the only time he’d ever seen his friend like this was at an eevee convention.

“What’s the point?” Fuma said, “I didn't marry her for nothing, you know.” His gaze drifted back to you again. You were still laughing with your friend, holding the tiny stuffed bear to your chest, the sunlight catching the soft folds of your dress, making the pastel fabric glow softly.

For a moment you looked angelic.

“I just….love her so much.” Fuma exhaled slowly.

“And?” Yudai’s brow arched.

Fuma watched as you stood up again, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear while listening to someone else talk.

“She’d be such a good mom,” He murmured, almost to himself. Yudai followed his gaze again.

“You’re thinking about that already?” He said, nudging his shoulder.

“It’s been two years already.” Fuma shrugged slightly, “Is that too fast?”

Yudai studied his friend carefully, watching the way his eyes went all droopy and drunk every time his gaze landed on you. 

“You’ve got it down bad, man.” A giggle came from Yudai. 

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Fuma chuckled under his breath.

For a moment they stood there in silence, the sounds of the party drifting through the yard—laughter, soft music playing from a speaker near the patio, the clinking of glasses.

“You should tell her.” Yudai nudged him with his elbow.

“Tell her what?” Fuma blinked at him.

“That.” Yudai said simply.

“What do you mean, ‘that’?” Fuma frowned.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Yudai replied. “If you’re standing here thinking about having kids with her, maybe you should actually say something.”

Fuma hesitated. The idea made his stomach twist slightly. You two hadn't had a proper conversation about kids before getting married—he knew it was an immature thing to do, but love always seemed to make time seem like an ephemeral thing, passing by like the honest wind. And he would rather die than put that burden on you.

“She might think it’s weird.” He said, gaze flickering down to the grass.

“Why?”

“It’s a baby shower.”

“Exactly, you stupid man.”

Fuma blinked at him as Yudai sighed and gestured toward the yard again, clearly done with the lack of romantic tropes in his best friend’s life. 

“You’re literally surrounded by baby decorations, gifts, and people talking about parenting. If there’s ever a moment to say something about wanting a future together, this is probably it.”

Fuma glanced back toward you. You had moved closer to the gift table now, examining the olive green baby shirt you had picked out together. The sight made him smile automatically. You looked so proud of that tiny shirt.

And suddenly, without warning, the thought appeared again. A family with you. You laughing in a backyard like this again someday, except the baby everyone was celebrating would be yours. The idea sent a strange mix of excitement and nervousness rushing through him.

“Oooh you’re thinking about it.” Yudai teased, his voice a pitch higher as he giggled at the expression on Fuma’s face, “Go tell her, already!”

Across the yard, you turned slightly, scanning the guests as if searching for someone. For a brief moment, your eyes met, your face lighting up instantly as you waved to him. Fuma felt his heart stumble in his chest as he raised his hand in return without thinking.

“She’s looking at you like you hung the moon,” Yudai said casually.

“You’re exaggerating.” Fuma laughed softly.

“I’m really not.” He nudged Fuma again. “Seriously. Go.”

Fuma looked at you one more time. You were still smiling at him, waiting for him to come over. And suddenly the world felt like the simplest thing ever—just you two in it, sitting atop clouds and drinking lemonade wrapped up in each other’s arms.

“Alright,” He said, “But I’m doing it when we get home.” 

“That’s my guy.” Yudai grinned, triumphantly pushing up his crown.

Fuma pushed himself off the railing, setting his untouched drink down on the deck table. As he stepped onto the grass and began walking toward you, the sounds of the party seemed to fade slightly into the background. The only thing he could really focus on was the way your smile grew wider the closer he got.

Love was a simple thing really, or at least the definition of it was.

Every version of it always started with you.

_________________

You stepped through the front door of your home, the faint scent of baby powder and cake from the baby shower still clinging to your clothes. The afternoon had been sweet—eating cake and getting pumped with lemonade as you cooed over baby clothes with your friends. It was one of those rare moments when the world felt like something more than gray matter.

But now, exhaustion tugged at you, and you kicked off your shoes, heading straight for the bathroom. Fuma had left before you did, tugged away by a work call which he apologised at least fifteen times for before you placed your hand on his and told him gently that it was alright.

He was already home; you'd seen his car in the driveway, but the house was quiet, save for the distant hum of the refrigerator.

The hot water cascaded over your skin in the shower, washing away the day's stickiness. You lathered up with your favorite lavender soap, letting the steam fill the small space. By the time you stepped out, wrapping a towel around yourself, the sun was dipping lower outside the window.

You dried off and slipped into your lace camisole and matching panties—soft, sheer fabric that hugged your curves, the delicate patterns whispering against your skin, perfectly comfortable for a lazy evening, you thought, as you padded into the kitchen to make yourself a snack.

Chopping fruits at the counter, you absentmindedly hummed a tune, unaware of the absolute storm brewing behind you. You were completely absorbed in your task, blissfully unaware of his presence.

Fuma stood in the doorway of the kitchen, admiring you from behind. The soft glow of the setting sun cast a warm light across your silhouette, highlighting the curves of your hips. 

He stepped closer, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in every detail. The way the soft lace of your camisole clung to your skin, the way the sheer fabric revealed tantalizing glimpses of what lay beneath. He felt a surge of desire, a hunger that grew with each passing moment.

It had been like this ever since the afternoon, ever since the moment you leaned into his touch when he wrapped his arm around your waist to tug you closer whilst you both ate cake. The way you had teasingly sucked on his thumb when he reached to wipe cream off of your lips sent blood rushing everywhere in his body.

His footsteps were silent until they weren't. Suddenly, his presence loomed behind you, heat radiating from his body like a furnace. 

“Oh.” You made a soft noise as the smell of soft cotton filled your senses, “Hi baby. Want some strawberries?” You held up a piece to him.

Your husband didn't answer you, his lips finding your neck instead. He began to trail soft kisses along your skin, starting at your collarbone and working his way up. Each kiss sent a shiver down your spine, your body responding to his touch instinctively.

“Alright then, more for me I guess.” You chuckled, used to being bombed with his love randomly at times like this. As he continued to explore your neck with his lips, his hands began to roam, slipping under the hem of your camisole to caress the smooth skin of your stomach. His touch was gentle at first, but as the heat between you grew, his kisses became more urgent, more demanding.

“Fuma, sweetheart, you alright?” You asked, tilting your head back. Before you could turn, his hands gripped your hips, pulling you back against him. His breath was hot against your neck, ragged and urgent. 

He nipped at your earlobe, sending another wave of pleasure through you. His hands moved higher, cupping your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples until they hardened beneath his touch.

You let out a soft moan, your head falling back against his shoulder, lost in the sensation of his touch. He took advantage of your position, his lips finding the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder, and he began to suck and nibble at the skin, leaving a trail of red marks in his wake.

“You’re so beautiful.” Fuma sighed, lips brushing your ear, “Too damn beautiful." Fierce, open-mouthed pressed along the curve of your throat, teeth grazing just enough to send shivers racing down your spine.

Your body arched against him, your hips pressing back into his own. His hands continued to explore, one moving down to slip beneath the waistband of your panties, his fingers brushing against your most intimate area.

You gasped, the knife clattering to the cutting board as your hands braced against the counter. Fuma's worship was consuming; his mouth trailed lower, sucking at the sensitive spot below your jaw.

His arousal pressed hard against your ass through his jeans, unyielding and insistent. He nipped at your shoulder, pushing the strap of your top aside to expose more flesh, his tongue laving over the mark he'd made.

The intensity built like a wildfire, you tried to steady yourself, but Fuma spun you around, backing you against the kitchen wall with a thud that rattled a nearby cabinet. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with lust, as he caged you in—forearms braced on either side of your head. 

“So beautiful, darling.” He repeated, crashing his lips to yours in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue, devouring you, “Looked so perfect today.” His hands roamed, one sliding up to cup your breast through the lace, thumb circling your nipple until it peaked hard and aching. He broke the kiss only to drop to his knees, his gaze locked on yours, feral and reverent.

“Fuma…” You sighed as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, glancing up once to make sure you’re alright. When you gave him a small nod, he yanked them down your thighs in one swift motion.

You had no idea just what had gotten into your husband today—he was never one to initiate sex, always waiting for your approval and arousal and following through. A gentleman, in many ways.

There was nothing gentleman-ly in the way Fuma gripped your thighs now, his strength unyielding, and hoisted your legs over his broad shoulders, god his strength turned you on so much. 

The idea that this man could you probably crush you between his arms with one gentle squeeze, and yet here he was, worshiping your pussy like it was his only diety—werent you the luckiest woman on earth? Your back pressed flat against the wall, the rough texture scraping lightly as he buried his face between your legs.

His mouth was ravenous, sweet tongue flat and broad, he licked a long stripe up your slit, savoring your taste with a guttural moan that vibrated through you. “So sweet for me, darling.” Fuma praised, words muffled as he delved deeper. 

He sucked your clit between his lips, flicking it with the tip of his tongue, relentless in his assault, as you practically rode his face. Your hands flew to his hair, tugging at the dark strands as the pleasure coiled tight in your belly. Fuma's grip tightened, holding you open, his nose bumping your mound with each eager thrust of his tongue inside you.

He ate you like a man starved, alternating between broad laps that coated his chin with your arousal and precise circles around your swollen nub. One hand slid up your inner thigh, fingers teasing your entrance before plunging two inside, curling them against that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids. It was his favourite spot, the way it made his pretty wife shake in his grasp always made his dick twitch.

“Fuma!” You cried out, hips bucking involuntarily, “Right there, right—ahh fuckkkk…” Fuma pinned you firmer, devouring every drop as your thighs trembled over his shoulders.

“Relax, baby.” He urged, “Let go for me, that’s a good girl.”

The pressure built until it snapped—your orgasm crashed over you, walls clenching around your husband’s fingers as you flooded his mouth, body arching off the wall. You cried out his name, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. He held you close as you rode out the waves of pleasure, his own breathing ragged as he watched you come undone in his arms.

When it was over, he pulled back slightly, looking up at you with his beautiful eyes. “Are you alright, darling?”

“That was….” You breathed, as he lowered your legs gently and rose, “What horny demon possessed you today, my dearest husband?”

“I’ve been asking the same question.” Fuma chuckled, claiming your mouth in a deep kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, “It's just….” 

Fuma stopped in his tracks as he saw the way you looked at him, wide, loving eyes that held nothing but trust in them. God he felt so stupid, he could have just told you what he wanted. But—akin to a spoiled child—he had to go and fulfill his whims, and now he didn't know how to breach the subject.

“What happened baby?” You tilted your head, reaching a hand up to cup his cheek. Fuma melted into your palm, closing his eyes for a brief second, letting himself get lost in the cotton of your touch. 

“You know how we were at the baby shower?”

“Uh huh.” You said, suppressing a giggle. 

“And you know how we went to shop for baby clothes the other day?” 

“Baby—”

“I want to do that again.” Fuma pressed a soft kiss to your palm, “I want to do that all over again, but—” His hold on your waist tightened, as if to ground himself, “—I want to do that for our family.”

When you married Fuma, a little voice in your head had told you that this would be the man you’d spent the rest of your life with, and it had asked you, are you sure? And you had answered back, yes. If life was three seconds, three days, three months or thirty years long, this man would be the person you’d spend the rest of it with. To run through dandelion fields, to talk about everything and nothing all at once under a starry sky, to celebrate the poetry of life with. 

“Our family?” You repeated softly. 

Fuma nodded once, though the movement was small. “Yeah.” His heart was beating fast now, faster than he would have liked, suddenly looking far less confident than he had a moment ago. “I mean—not right this second,” He added quickly. “I’m not trying to rush you or anything like that.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on your face at that. Your husband looked like a child in trouble.

“But…” He continued, searching for the right words. “Standing there today, watching you with your friend, seeing how excited you were about everything…” He glanced down briefly, then back at you again. “You’d be amazing.” He said quietly.

“Amazing?” Your expression softened.

“A mom.” The word seemed to surprise the both of you. Fuma laughed under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck again.

“See, this is why I didn’t plan to say this out loud.” He muttered, the tips of his ears turning faintly red.

“You’re doing great so far.” You laughed softly. He looked at you carefully, trying to read your expression.

“I just—” He paused, then tried again. “When I think about the future, you’re always there, every version of it.” You didn’t interrupt him this time. “And today just made it… clearer, I guess,” He finished.

Fuma reached up to brush a strand of your hair back behind your ears, another shuddering breath from him as he saw how damn beautiful you were. Two years of marriage and he still couldn't help but feel like a stupid 20 year old boy everytime he looked at you.

“You really thought about this a lot, didn’t you?” You asked

“A little.”

“Fuma.” You raised a brow.

“Okay.” He admitted. “A lot.”

That made you laugh again. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly when he heard it. Then you reached up again, your hand returning to his cheek.

“And what if I said—” You smiled sheepishly, “—I thought about it too?”

Fuma didn't know if it was relief or something else that washed over him at your words.

“Say sike right now.”

“Oh god Fuma.” You laughed, slapping his chest, “What has Maki been teaching you?” You laughed with him for a second before sighing and smiling softly, “If I’m being a hundred percent honest…the thought has come into my mind a few times, especially whenever you held a baby.” You ran a tongue over your lips, “You look exceptionally dashing when you do that.”

“Dashing?”  Fuma cocked a brow, eyes flickering to your lips, “Go on.” 

“Well,” You continued, “It’s been two years already.” Your hand reached down slowly, “And we’re both logical adults.” You palmed his cock, “And we’re both very horny right now.” He was already so hard beneath your touch, “And I don’t think I can sleep without another orgasm tonight." 

Whatever Fuma did in his past life to get you in this one, he was thankful he did it. He let out a soft groan as you palmed his cock straining through his pants. God you were such a perfect fucking wife.

“You’re sure darling?” Fuma asked, “It’s a really big decision you know.” 

“Good that I make really nice decisions then hm?” You squeezed his hard length through his pants, a playful smile on your lips, “Need you so bad Fuma.” You rocked your hips against his, fluttering your lashes. 

Fuma groaned at your words, his hips thrusting forward involuntarily into your touch. "You're going to be the death of me."

With that, he scooped you up into his arms, carrying you off to the bedroom with a determined stride. The mattress dipped under his weight as he laid you down, the lace camisole still clinging to your sweat-damp skin, his eyes roaming over your body with a hungry gaze. Two years of marriage and he was still putty beneath the power of your gorgeous face.

Fuma crawled onto the bed, covering your body with his own. He kissed you deeply, his tongue delving into your mouth to claim you—though you were already his. His hands roamed over your body, caressing every inch of your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

Your husband took a moment to admire your chest, running his thumbs over your hardened nipples. You gasped at the contact, arching your back to press yourself further into his touch.

Fuma stripped quickly—shirt tossed aside, sweats kicked off—revealing his toned body, cock thick and straining, tip red hot and angry. He slowly (very very agonizingly slowly) settled between your thighs, propping himself on one elbow while his free hand traced lazy patterns over your hip. 

“You’re so beautiful, darling." He breathed, repeating the same praise for the fifteenth time that evening, eyes tracing every inch with worshipful intensity. His fingers dipped lower, gathering your lingering wetness before circling your entrance teasingly.

Slowly, so slowly, he pushed one thick finger inside you, watching your face as your pussy stretched around the intrusion. 

“So damn tight….gonna have to work her open first, yeah?” Fuma pumped it in and out, deliberate strokes that had you mewling, the earlier orgasm leaving you hypersensitive. He added a second finger, scissoring them gently, stretching your walls with patient precision. 

Fuma leaned down, kissing your collarbone, then your breasts, sucking a nipple through the lace until it was soaked and translucent. “I love you, my darling.” he murmured against your skin, his voice a mix of ferocity and adoration, “My everything, sweetheart.” 

“Fuma—feel so good…..fuck!” His fingers curled inside you, stroking that inner ridge over and over, building the heat anew.

You writhed beneath him, hands clutching the sheets, as he worked you open—three fingers now, thrusting deep, preparing you for what was to come. The room filled with the wet sounds of his fingers fucking you, your moans echoing off the walls.

He kept the pace languid, draaawing out every sensation, his free hand pinning your wrist above your head in a gentle hold. 

“Taking me so good, my darling.” Fuma’s eyes never left yours, passionate and intense, as another climax built, slower this time, like the coming of a spring, “Let go for me, go on.”

When it hit, it washed through you in waves, your pussy fluttering around his fingers, pulling him deeper. Your husband groaned, withdrawing at last, his cock twitching against your thigh. 

“Alright, baby?” Fuma asked, gentle faze tracing over your twitching body. Cute, he thought, she’s shaking from just my fingers.

“Fumaaa…” You whined, bringing your hand up to stroke his jaw, looking at him though half lidded eyes, “Want your cock, please?” 

Your husband was a….large man. Compared to others atleast, fucking hell was he built like a truck—one of the many reasons you married him. He was big in every aspect, broad shoulders and chest, thick fucking fingers (the fluid dripping down your thighs was proof it only took one deep plunge to make you cum), and perhaps the fattest cock you had ever seen in your life. 

And by god did it fill his ego to the brim to see you struggle to take him. 

His pretty little wife.

“Ready darling?” Your husband asked, all formal, as if anything was formal about that dick, positioning himself. 

“Just put it in already.” You huffed, wrapping your legs round his waist to bring him closer. You needed him right now. 

“So impatient baby.” He chuckled, tilting his head, “And if it doesn't fit? You know it never fits in the first try.” 

Technically speaking, your husband was correct. Two damn years and you could never take him all in the first go. He had to make you cum at least three times to get you wet enough. But speaking from your horny brain, you did not give a fuck.

“I’ll make it fit.” You said, voice breathy, “Please, Fuma? I’ll be your good girl, I swear.” He groaned at your words, his hips twitching forward slightly as if seeking more of your touch. 

“Well, who am I to deny such a pretty girl?” He purred, hovering above you, his cock heavy and throbbing against your slick folds, the broad head nudging your entrance.  You moaned at the contact, your hips bucking up as if it were a conditioned reflex. 

You could feel the stretch already, just from that initial press, your pussy still fluttering from the slow fingering that had left you open and aching for more. Fuma gripped the base of his cock, guiding it with deliberate slowness, but as he pushed forward, only the tip breached you before resistance met him—your walls clenching tight around the intrusion, too snug even after all his preparation.

Fuma let out a cocky laugh as he took his time, savoring the feeling of your right heat as he slooowly pushed inside. He groaned, low and frustrated, his hips twitching as he tried to sink deeper.

“So fucking small.” Fuma rasped, eyes locking onto yours with a mix of lust and amusement, “Pussy’s so damn small—pretty thing can’t even take half of me, yeah?” 

“F-Fuma slow down!” You gasped, your hands reaching for him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you held on for dear life, “Fuck—hah oh god Fuma too much!” 

“Tch tch.” Your husband clicked his tongue, “I don’t think I’m the problem here darling.” He leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, “You’re just—” thrust, “too” thrust, “small.” Your body shook like a dandelion in the wind as he forced his fat fucking cock into you, “Fuck she’s gripping me—ahh—like she wants to keep me out.” He rocked forward again, forcing another inch inside, but your body rebelled, muscles fluttering and squeezing in protest, “Does she want me out, my darling?”

You whimpered, hands fisting the sheets, the burn of the stretch mingling with sharp pleasure. Fuma chuckled darkly, pulling back just enough to let you breathe before thrusting shallowly, teasing your entrance with the thick ridge of his cockhead.

“Look at you, all worked up and still too tight for your husband.” His free hand trailed up your thigh, thumb pressing into the soft flesh as he watched your face contort—lips parted, brows furrowed in that exquisite mix of pain and need. “What am I supposed to do with a wife who milks me like this? Can't even fit all the way in without—fuck—a fight.” Fuma loved this part, the way your body yielded inch by inch, proving how perfectly you were made for him, even if it took effort.

You arched your back, trying to ease him in, but he held your hips steady, controlling the pace. “Calm down sweetheart.” His voice was gravelly, “You said you’ll make it fit, so we’re going to make it fit.”

He pumped in and out of that shallow depth, the wet slide of your arousal coating him, but he couldn't bury himself fully—not yet. Frustration edged his teasing, his breaths coming harsher as he ground against you, clit catching the friction of his pubic bone on each nudge.

Finally, the playfulness snapped. With a feral growl, Fuma's hands clamped onto your thighs, fingers digging into the meat of them hard enough to bruise.

He pulled your legs up roughly, folding them back against your chest in one swift motion—the mating press that pinned you open and vulnerable beneath him. Your knees nearly touched your shoulders, pussy splayed wide and exposed, the angle forcing your walls to part just enough. 

“Theeere we go.” Fuma grunted, satisfaction lacing his tone as he aligned himself again. “Now you'll take it all, like the good girl you are.”

Surging forward, his cock speared into you in a single, brutal thrust, bottoming out with a slap of skin on skin. You cried out, the fullness overwhelming—his girth splitting you wide, the head of his dick kissing your cervix in a deep, unyielding press. 

It burned, god did it fucking burn, the stretch bordering on too much, but the pleasure crashed in right after, your pussy clenching greedily around his length. Fuma didn't give you time to adjust; he pulled back almost to the tip and slammed back in, setting a punishing rhythm that rocked your body against the mattress.

“Fuck, yes—feel that? How deep I am now?” He panted, hips snapping forward relentlessly, each thrust driving him balls deep into your core. 

The position kept you locked in place, unable to escape the onslaught, your thighs quivering from the strain as he folded you tighter. His weight bore down, chest pressing your legs further, turning you into a pliant vessel for his cock. He fucked you hard, the bed creaking under the force, your pussy squelching around him with every plunge—wet, obscene sounds filling the room alongside your moans and his grunts.

Sweat slicked his skin, dripping onto your chest as he rutted into you like an animal, chasing that primal need that had been resting in his chest ever since he saw you with a baby in your arms.

“Gonna fill you up.” He mumbled into your ear, lips brushing the shell as he nipped at your lobe, “Pump you so full—hah you’re so tight baby. You want that sweetheart? Wanna have our kids?”

“Fuma!” His words sent heat flooding your veins, your walls fluttering around his pistoning cock, pulling him deeper as if your body agreed, “Fuma fuck! Yes yes yes!” All your senses were gone at this point. 

He shifted his angle slightly, grinding against that sensitive spot inside you with each thrust, the friction on your clit from his body adding layers of sensation. You were lost in it, head thrown back, nails raking down his back as pleasure built relentlessly. Fuma's pace never faltered—rough, demanding, fucking you into oblivion as promised. 

“Take it darling.” His hand slipped between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and rubbing firm circles, pushing you toward the edge, “Take every fucking drop—ahhh god you’re squeezing me so tight.” 

The first orgasm hit you like a freight train, ripping through your core as your pussy spasmed around his cock, milking him in tight pulses. You screamed his name, vision blurring, body convulsing in the tight fold of the mating press. 

Fuma groaned, feeling you clamp down, but he didn't stop—thrusting through it, prolonging the waves until you were sobbing from the intensity. “One more, darling, just one more, I promise.” 

He kept pounding, the overstimulation making every slide of his cock electric, your sensitivity heightening the drag of his veins against your walls. His free hand gripped your hip, holding you steady as he chased his own release, but he focused on you—thumb pressing harder on your clit, hips rolling to hit that spot over and over.

“Fuck baby, go on—milk me dry. Show me how much you want our kids.” The words, combined with the relentless fucking, coiled the tension anew, faster this time, your body already primed.

You shattered a second time, orgasm crashing harder, your pussy gushing around him, soaking his balls as you clenched and released in rhythmic waves. Fuma cursed, the vice of your walls tipping him over. 

With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, cock pulsing as he came—hot spurts of cum flooding your depths, painting your womb white. He ground against you, ensuring every drop stayed inside, his growl vibrating through your joined bodies. 

“Full…….so fucking full for me.”  Fuma had no idea what he was saying, dick and mind already milked to the brim, collapsing forward slightly, still folded over you as aftershocks rippled through both of you.

He stayed like that for long minutes, cock softening inside your bred pussy, plugging his cum deep. Only when your breaths evened did he ease your legs down, kissing your forehead softly as he pulled out.

“Shit.” You sighed as you felt him ease out, leaving you empty. Fuma cupped your cheek in his palm, tilting your face to look at you properly.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Emotionally or physically?” You chuckled, fighting the urge to fall asleep right there and then, “Because emotionally, I won’t accept anything else other than all that for sex after this.”

“All that?” Fuma chuckled, sliding down next to you, warmth radiating off his body, “You sure we’ll even be able to have sex after all that?” 

“Oh shut up.” You laughed, tossing one leg over his to tangle yourself in his grasp, “It takes people at least three attempts to get pregnant.”

“We can be an exception darling.” Fuma laughed, melting into your touch as the lady of the night pulled you both into her arms. 

The two faint lines two weeks later proved you to be the exception, indeed. 

fin. 

divider by @strangergraphics

[pglpblm]

this fic has me clawing at the WALLSSSSSSS

@nichopatch mother!! u need to read this

[pglpblm]

「 ✦ mᥲstᥱrᥣιsts ✦ 」

for sfw works , ᥴhᥱᥴk oυt mყ skz , txt ᥲᥒd ᥱᥒhᥲ fιᥴs @juli-han

𝟷𝟾+ | mιᥒors kιᥒdᥣყ dᥒι !!! ⤵︎

────୨ৎ────

ׂ╰┈➤ &tᥱᥲm

coming soon...

ׂ╰┈➤ ρ𝟷hᥲrmoᥒყ

coming soon...

ׂ╰┈➤ ᥱᥒhყρᥱᥒ

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back to navi

[bambidollies]

redhanded - murata fuma 𓈒ིུ ❤︎ ˖

request!! ✾ ࣪ ‌ ࣭

“In which Fuma catches his girlfriend being a bad girl.”

⁺ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❤︎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⊹　₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ͏͏✧ content: +18MDNI

fem! reader x fuma, established relationship, masturbating (f), fingering, edging, dom! fuma, dirty talking, overstimulation, squirting.

“Don’t touch yourself until i get back.”

Fuma had warned you, before leaving for work. You’d nodded, like the good girl you were.

But now you were alone. And you missed him, and you were needy.

The silence in the apartment was unbearable, heavy and suffocating, making it so easy to get your thoughts loud in your mind. Your skin prickled, hot with the memory of the way he’d looked at you earlier, the way he’d said mine when you tried to act bratty, the way his hand slipped between your thighs under the table at breakfast and then just… stopped. Left you aching. You were still aching just where he’d touched you.

You had changed positions on the couch a hundred times, trying to distract yourself. TV on, then off. Scrolling through your phone, tossing it aside. Made a snack, listened to music, read a book. Nothing was helping, Your thighs squeezed together more and more often, without thinking.

Your body was on fire, and you needed him, or release.

So your hand drifted.

Just resting on your stomach at first, finger pads against the soft skin under your tank top, but then lower. You sighed when your fingers slipped under the waistband of your shorts, just grazing skin. Just to test, you tell yourself.

But the second your fingertips brush over your clit, featherlight, just once, your hips jolt, a low gasp breaking out of you. You were sensitive, raw, needy. Your breath hitched as you did it again. Slower this time, asoft circle. Then another. You let your eyes flutter closed, head tipping back against the cushions, legs falling further apart like your body giving in before you even did.

Your mind started to drift, you imagined it was Fuma’s hand instead. His fingers, thicker, rougher, more confident, even more experienced. He knew exactly how to make you melt. He growled when you whimpered, called you greedy, needy, his dirty little girl. Your free hand grabbed a cushion and you pressed it over your mouth, trying to stay quiet as you started to rub tighter circles over your clit. Your panties were soaked, thin cotton clinging to your folds, sliding as your fingers moved.

You were panting now, soft and desperate. You pressed harder. Then again. You were close — already — the shame and heat and knowing he told you not to only making it worse. Your legs were shaking, thighs flexing, heels digging into the couch cushions, your hand moving faster now, sloppy and wet. The tension coiled deep in your stomach, tighter with every breath, every drag of your fingertips over your swollen clit.

Sweat gathered at the small of your back, between your breasts. The whole room felt too warm, like the air was thick with sin. You were clenching around nothing, needy and pulsing, the slick sound of your fingers moving between your legs making your face burn with shame.

“Fuck,” you whispered into the pillow, arching your back, your eyes shut.

Fuma would be so mad if he saw you like this.

If he saw you sprawled out, disobeying him, moaning his name in a broken breath like he’s the only thing your body responds to. The thought of it sent you spiraling closer. You pressed your fingers harder, hips grinding up, chasing that sweet electric snap. You were so close. So fucking close—

Then the door opened.

You froze, every muscle in your body locked up, your eyes open in pure panic.

Heavy, quiet footsteps. A bag drops to the floor.

“Baby, i’m back!”

You ripped your hand out of your shorts, shoving the pillow over your lap like that could erase what he’ll clearly smell in the air.Sex, heat and guilt. Your fingers were still wet. Your chest still heaving, your pupils still wide.

Fuma appeared in the hallway, and stopped the second he saw you. You were caught red handed. His eyes flicked down to the pillow you were clutching to your core. To your flushed cheeks. To your trembling thighs and bitten lips.

Then he tilted his head, dark eyes narrowing. “Oh, baby,” he said, voice like a knife wrapped in velvet. “You didn’t.”

You couldn’t even answer. Shame and fear and guilt showering your body.

“Tell me you weren’t about to come all over your fingers,” he murmured. “After I explicitly told you not to.”

You swallowed hard.

“Fuma—”

He chuckled, low and humorless. Then leaned down, one hand gripping the back of the couch beside your head.“You just couldn’t help yourself, huh?” His nose brushed your cheek, his breath hot. “That desperate for it? You were going to come without me?”

And then he grabbed your wet hand, brought your fingers to his lips and sucked them into his mouth one by one.

“You know how this ends.”

Time stopped making sense the second he stripped you bare and opened your legs right there in the couch. Now your body is nothing but a raw, pulsing nerve. Every breath feels shallow, your thighs ache from trembling, and the only thing keeping you grounded is Fuma’s voice. You’re not even sure how long it’s been at this point, maybe even more than an hour.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispers, fingers slowly thrusting into you again. “So fucking perfect, baby. Taking it like I knew you would.” You’re not even sure if you’re crying or sweating anymore. Your body hurts with how much you need it, clit swollen, throbbing, untouched for too long, your walls pulsing around him, you’re dripping so much the leather of the couch is soaked and sticky with your fluids, while he keeps working you open, over and over again.

He keeps pulling you back from the edge for hours.

The worst part is how gentle he is. He kisses your thighs, your mouth, your neck. He wipes your tears and pets your hair. He praises you. “You feel that, sweetheart?” he murmurs, curling his fingers deep inside you, brushing deliciously against your g-spot. “That flutter? That clench? You’re right there again.”

And you are. You’re so close, your stomach tightening, hips rolling down into his hand like your body’s chasing it without permission. “Please,” you gasp, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Fuma, I— I can’t—” “Yes, you can,” he says softly, his thumb barely brushing your clit. Your whole body jolts.

He pulls away again.

You scream.

It’s not even a real sound, it’s broken,m and helpless. You’re a wreck beneath him, body shaking, thighs soaked and sticky from how many times he’s brought you to the edge just to deny you. “Breathe, baby,” he soothes, pressing his lips to your temple. “It’s okay. You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you.” Your hands clutch at your sides, your chest rising and falling like you’re drowning in heat. “I-I need— I need—” He kisses you, slow and open-mouthed, tongue sliding over yours as his fingers push back in, so deep it makes you sob against his mouth. “I know what you need,” he whispers. “But that’s not the point, is it?” He shifts down, between your thighs again. Spreads them open gently, like you aren’t soaked and overstimulated and out of your mind. He licks you slowly, tongue dragging up through your folds, careful not to touch your clit, and your hips buck off the couch like you’ve been shocked.

He just holds you down with one arm across your stomach. “Shh. You’re okay,” he murmurs, tongue dipping inside you, savoring every drop. “You wanted to come without permission, so now I’m going to make you earn it.”

So he keeps doing it, again and again and again.

Every time you get close, he pulls away. Kisses your inner thigh and whispere praise. Lets your body cool off for just a minute before starting over.

By the fifth time you’re sobbing.

By the eigth you’re begging.

“I’ll be good,” you cry, hands fisting in his hair. “I’ll do anything, Fuma, please just let me—”

You don’t even recognize the sounds you’re making anymore. They’re desperate, gasps and choked sobs, high-pitched whimpers that leave your mouth without thought. Spit falls from the corner of your mouth, tears soaking your cheeks and blurring your view, your brain spinning. You’re not even speaking in words, just pleading with your body.

You’ve been edged so many times you’ve forgotten what it feels like to actually let go.

“Now.”

You barely register the word, but your body knows. Your whole spine arches up off the bed as his fingers drive into you againx harder, deeper, relentless now. Perfectly curved, slamming hard against your g-spot, wet sounds coming out of you between your legs, his palm crashing with your clit. No more pulling back.

Just him fucking you with his hand like he owns every inch of your body.

“You hear me, baby?” he breathes, voice rough against your cheek as he kisses you hard. “You come for me. Right now.”

You scream.The orgasm rips through you so fast and so hard it feels like your body might snap in half. Your thighs clamp around his wrist, your hands claw at his shoulders, and your whole body spasms under him, wet and shaking and completely out of control. His fingers keep going, curling deep inside you, fucking you through it, pushing you higher, deeper into the climax until you’re sobbing into his neck. “That’s it,” he groans. “That’s my girl. Let it all out.”

Your release gushes out of you, soaking his hand, the couch, your thighs, the floor. You don’t even know where your limbs are, just that you’re trembling, overwhelmed, your core pulsing hard around his fingers as the orgasm crashes through you in waves. “Fuck,” he breathes, watching you fall apart. “My messy little thing.” You twitch when his thumb brushes your clit again, your body still raw and trembling from the peak he finally let you have. He slows down gradually, his fingers softening inside you, no longer punishing, just soothing, grounding you while you come down from the high that’s still unraveling your muscles.

“It was worth it, wasn’t it?” he whispers, lips brushing your ear. You nod weakly, tears drying on your skin, completely spent, boneless beneath him. His fingers slip out of you slowly, and he kisses your inner thigh, your hip, your stomach. “You did so good for me,” he murmurs. “So fucking good.”

And then he pulls you into his chest , warm, comforting and proud. And holds you like he didn’t just wreck you completely. Because even if you disobey him sometimes, you’re still his good girl.

[moonsua]

VOGUE TAIWAN QUIZ ♡ FUMA

[luvyeni]

also this isn’t the end of heeseung being in my fics for enha .. baby in my fics he’s gonna be enhypen forever .. and when he drops that album oh baby i’ll fly for that concert

[kim-jiwoong]

credit

[pglpblm]

Koga Yudai ꕀ [&TEAM COURSE] Beyond Imagination: A Chaotic Romance

my first gifset yay ⟵(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) dedicated to @luludelulucrew <3 this was a right piece of work ㅠㅠ

[kpop-bbg]