summary: you've always been the older one, and he's always been the younger best friend. you two thought living together would be easy, but it proves difficult when you catch feelings- especially when nicholas shows you that he could care less about your age.
pairing: childhoodfriend!nicholas x olderfemale!reader
warnings: childhood friends to lovers, slight age gap but she's older (4 years), nicholas is so down bad for reader, he calls her baobei, fluff, slight angst (mostly reader freaking out about her age), smut, dom!nicholas, sub!reader, use of toys, nipple play, oral (female receiving), squirting, unprotected sex, overstimulation
word count: 4.6k
notes: as promised here is the nico fic. again thank you so much for 1k!! i did try to read over this for mistakes, but i'm very tired and probably missed some. this was requested! i hope you like it. likes and reblogs appreciated!
you always said you liked guys your age. it always seemed easier than admitting the truth- that you liked him. nicholas. the guy who you grew up with since you were kids. the guy who was younger than you.
your's and nicholas' moms were best friends. they grew up together, and they wanted you two to do the same. they even got houses right next to each other to make sure of that. the only thing was that your mom got pregnant a lot sooner- 4 years to be exact.
growing up it never made a difference to either one of you. you two often forgot that you weren't the same age until it came to schooling when you had to go your separate ways. you two were inseparable.
that was until college.
the two of you slowly drifted apart though neither of you wanted to. you two still talked, and you came home as often as you could. but the distance and schooling made things harder. you had two completely separate lives now, and even though it was a lot harder being away from him than you thought, you two managed.
you were about to go into your last year of college when he graduated high school. you were the first to congratulate him, nearly screaming when he picked you up and swung you around. he wasn't the small kid you remembered. he now towered over you- something he now made fun of you for. he was also well liked. girls were constantly trying to get his attention, but he brushed them all away, keeping his focus on you.
"ready to be stuck with me, baobei?"
it was something he made you promise when you were younger- that after he graduated high school, you two would live together. you didn't think he would still remember that, or even want to for that fact, but he did. and a month later the two of you were living in your small 2 bedroom apartment.
that leaves you to where you are now. you both have graduated college, but you two were still living together. you just kept making the excuse that living expenses were too high, but you knew the real reason. you had developed feelings for him- someone who you had grown up with.
it started about a year after you two had moved in together. the two of you were in the kitchen baking because nicholas saw this cookie recipe he wanted to try. you had threatened him multiple times to leave, so you could bake, but he wouldn't. you ended up throwing flour on him which resulted in a food fight. nicholas ended up slipping on flour and falling. you tried to help him up, but he pulled you down with him. you didn't think you ever laughed so hard, but it's when you noticed the shift- that you were thinking about him in a way you never had before.
you had tried so desperately to break these feelings. you tried dating which didn't work because every time you would just picture him to the point where you embarrassingly almost moaned out his name while you were having sex with one of your ex boyfriend's. that was 6 months ago, and he was the last person you were with, so to say you were pent up was a bit of an understatement. you were fine at first, but now everything you relied on wasn't enough anymore. the ache never went away anymore, and it seemed to intensify every time you were in the presence of him.
every time it hit you, your stomach would twist in fear. you weren't supposed to want him. not only he was your best friend, but your mom's were best friends. what would happen if something happened and didn't work out? you would still have to see him. that's not to mention the age gap. you weren't supposed to want someone younger than you, and you didn't think he would want someone older because he hasn't said otherwise. all of his girlfriends have either been his age or younger.
but lately he's been acting weird. he's been more distant, spending the night at his friends more often than he was here. the times he was here he's been distracted- locked away in his room. the two of you haven't spent any time together which made you nervous. you kept feeling like any moment he was going to come to you and tell you that he wanted to move out.
tonight was yet another night nicholas was staying with one of his friends, or at least that's what you thought because it was late. you were in the kitchen, phone blasting music while you were making you a snack when you heard a deep chuckle come from behind you.
"is this what you do when i'm not home, baobei?"
you jump in fear, nearly cutting yourself with the knife you were holding before turning to a smirking nicholas. "what the hell is wrong with you?"
"i feel like i should be asking you that." he says walking up to you, stealing some fruit you had just cut. "what if i wasn't alone? what if i had a friend with me?"
you looked at him confused before looking where he was. "what do you- stop looking!"
your stomach dropped, face flushing when you realized what you were wearing in front of him. since you weren't expecting him to be home, you didn't put much thought into what you were wearing. that included one of nicholas' old sports shirts that he had grown out of. it was the perfect length for him to see the lace of your underwear peaking out.
"but i don't want to." your eyes widen at his words, and with you being on edge like you were, you could feel your entire body heat up. you move away from him, but he stops you, arms blocking you from moving. "where do you think you're going?"
"to put on some shorts." you answer, needing to get away from him before you embarrass yourself any further.
"don't change on my account." he says, tugging at his shirt you were wearing and showing more of you to him. "besides, i quite like this look on you."
"nicho." you warn, though it was quiet. "can we pretend this didn't happen?"
"why would i do that?" you groan at nicholas' question.
"because we're best friends, and it's easier."
"i don't want easy anymore." he mumbles making you look up at him. his eyes were already locked onto yours. "i'm not forgetting this. just like i know you're not."
"what do you mean?" he lets out a small chuckle at your question.
"come on, baobei. we both know what you're going to do once you go back to your room."
your eyes widen slightly as you try to move past his arms, but he wouldn't budge. "i don't know what you're talking about."
"don't lie to me." his voice was low. "we share a wall. i can hear every time you turn on one of those stupid toys. and you know what else i can hear?" you keep your gaze on the ground, not answering him. "you moaning out my name."
you felt mortified, wishing that the ground would just swallow you whole. "nicholas, please."
"begging already? i haven't even done anything yet." he smirks making you bite your lip. "you look so cute like this. red faced and flustered. do you even notice how tightly your thighs are clenched together?"
"this can't be happening." you mutter loud enough for nicholas to hear it. "nicho, i- we can't."
"give me one good reason why because i know you want this just as much as i do." he says as he finally moves his arm, fingers drifting across your cheek.
"i'm too old for you. it's wrong."
"too old?" he questions. "do you really think 4 years matters to me? because it doesn't. only you do, and it's been like that for a long time."
"nicholas-" you start but he stops you.
"look at me." his thumb tilts your head to look up at him. "if you don't want this, walk away. right now, and i will do what you say and forget this happened."
he watches you as you stay still, staring at him with as much need as he was staring at you with. and before he could even think about it, his hands grip your cheeks, body pressing you into the counter as his lips possessively claim yours. you freeze for just a second before melting into him, feeling as he smirks against you as your hands grip his shirt.
he pulls away just seconds later, keeping your body pressed into his as his forehead rests against yours. "tell me, baobei. did that feel wrong to you?"
"no."
as soon as the word was out of your mouth, his finds yours again. you sigh into his mouth, instinctively parting your lips when you felt his tongue ghost against them. his hands pull at your shirt just enough for his hands to rest against your flushed skin, thumbs tracing along the lace of your underwear.
all thoughts of your doubts went out of your mind with every passing second. not that you could think of anything other than him. the way his lips claimed yours like you already belonged to him. his hands desperate, feeling every inch of you that he could reach.
you pulled away first, desperate for air, but nicholas wasn't. you gasp when his lips find your neck, teeth nipping at your skin. "nicho."
"yes, my baobei." he pulled away with dark eyes and swollen lips, resting his head against yours. "did you want me to stop?"
"no." he smiled at your instant response. the way your hands gripped his shirt, so he couldn't move away from you.
"then what do you want?" he questions, noticing that you wanted to say something. he nudged you when you stayed quiet. "talk to me. tell me what you want."
"you." you finally answered, face warming when you noticed him smirk. "i want you."
"finally."
you gasp when he pulls you away from the counter before throwing you over his shoulder. "nicholas!"
"yes?" he questions, and you can hear him laugh when you hold onto him tightly as he starts walking towards your room. "relax. i would never drop you."
"are you sure about that?" you question, mind going to this one time he picked you up, so he could throw you into the pool. he ended up losing his balance, leaving you bruised for weeks.
"i was 13." he defended himself. "and i made sure you fell on top of me."
he entered your room, easily navigating the dark room before placing you on the bed. you had just enough time to turn on the lamp before he grabbed your ankle, pulling you towards him. you land beneath him, gripping at his arms that have you caged to the bed as he leans down, warm breath brushing against your skin.
"you said you wanted me, right?" you nod your head at his question, eyes trailing down to his lips when he bites them. "how bad?"
you meet his gaze, cheeks flushing when he stares at you- clearly waiting for an answer. "so bad, nicho."
"are you sure, baobei?" he questions, making you say yes. "then why did you try to push me away? and your age better not be your answer."
"i was scared." you answer. "you're my best friend. you're all i've ever known. i just- what if we tried, and it didn't work out?"
"bold of you to assume i would do anything to let that happen." you roll your eyes at his response.
"you can't predict the future."
"oh but i can." he says making you scoff. "i knew growing up that there would be a day that you would be mine, and look at where we are baobei. what a dream come true."
"you're ridiculous." you tell him, though he could tell the effect that his words had on you. your legs twitched, tightening around him.
"i'll be insane if it means i get you." he watches your expression soften, leaning down to meet you halfway in a much softer kiss than before.
"then i guess you're insane." you mumble against his lips.
you could tell that his patience had ran out when he kissed you again, teeth nipping at your lips. his hands disappeared under your shirt, pulling it up as his hands travel towards your chest. you moan into his mouth, arching into his touch when his hands find your breasts, squeezing them. he let out an almost pained sound as he pulled away. you jump when you feel his lips touch your stomach before he starts to kiss his way to your chest.
"do you know how hard it was to lay in that bed and hear you? to hear these pretty sounds and not being able to do anything about it?" you tried to apologize, but he stopped you before you could. "you'll just make it up to me, right?"
"how?"
he smirked as his mouth hovered over your nipple. "by making sure i'm the only reason these sounds come out of you from this day on."
he didn't even let you respond before latching to your nipple. you choke out a moan, hands tangling in his hair as he sucks on your nipple. you feel him hum against your skin as he leaves no part of your chest untouched.
"nicho..."
suddenly he pulls away from your chest, lips glistening as he looks up at you, smiling when he notices your pouting. "do you have any plans for the weekend?"
you blink at him in disbelief that he paused just to ask that. "no."
"good." he mumbles as he tugs at your shirt as he pulled it off you. "because we're not leaving this room until i've memorized every sound that you make."
"oh my god." you mutter, slightly embarrassed. he moved his attention to your underwear, hand tracing along the edge before he hooked it around his finger, but he once again paused.
"tell me baobei." he said, resuming when he heard you whine, slowly dragging them down your legs. "what did you think of when you used those toys?"
"do i have to answer that?" he laughs at your question.
"if you want me to continue, yes." he answers, making you sigh out.
"it differed depending on what i was feeling, but the person stayed the same- you."
he liked your answer, smiling down before kissing you. you pulled away when you heard him rumbling in your drawer. "i want to try something."
"okay?" you say, watching as he pulls out the toy that you use.
"this is what you've been using instead of coming to me?" you reluctantly nod your head. "i want to see which makes you come harder. this, my mouth, or my dick."
he clicks the toy on, turning the vibration on high. he leans down, letting the toy trace around your sensitive nipple, making you jerk. "is that okay, baobei?"
"yes." you say almost begging for him to do something at this point. he could tell, smirking as he lets the toy trail down your stomach. he teases you, stopping right above your clit before stopping, waiting until you begged him to keep going until he did. you throw your head back, moaning his name as he finally gives you some relief.
"tell me. did you play with the pretty breasts while you toyed with my pussy?" nicholas asked, watching as it took you a moment before the question registered. once you nodded, he let his lips attach back to your chest.
"nicho... fuck!"
he pressed the toy harder to your clit making you cry out, teeth biting at your flushed skin. he refused to leave any part of your chest untouched by him. "louder, baobei."
you couldn't begin to imagine how you were going to feel when it was just him and not the toy because you never felt like this when it was just you. it normally took you what felt like forever to get off, sometimes even going as far as watching videos, but here he is edging you even though he just started.
you hand finds his wrist, nails digging into his skin as you squirm underneath him. "nicho- please."
"please what?" he asks making you whimper when he lifts the toy off just a fraction.
"please don't stop." you beg. "i'm so close. please keep going."
his lips release your bruised nipple, slamming his lips onto yours while he returns the toy to your clit. you arch into him, crying out as your orgasm slams into you. "there we go, baobei. such a pretty sight."
he removes the toy when you unconsciously pull away from it, meeting your gaze as he holds up the toy. he clicks it off before his tongue darts out, cleaning your arousal from it. once it was clean, he carelessly tossed it behind him, turning to watch as it clatters to the floor. "i think i may have broken your toy. guess you'll just have to use me from now on."
"you're a menace." you couldn't help but laugh when he shrugs his shoulders.
"you say that like you're surprised." he mumbles, watching as your eyes widen as he moves down the bed. "besides, i think you like it based on the way you just came for me, but there is something i want to know."
"i'm scared to ask what." you felt the vibration of nicholas' chuckle as he kissed down your stomach. you watch him as he settled on the bed between your thighs, eyes dark as he kept your gaze.
"i want to know why you thought some stupid toy was better than this."
you gasp as his mouth latches to you, tongue running along your slit before his lips wrapped around your clit. "fuck- nicho!"
you felt his nails dig into your skin as he opened your thighs wider, holding you down when you tried to close them again. you couldn't help but agree with him. why did you ever think some toy would be better than him? the way his tongue flicked at your clit, messy and fast. the way you could tell he was totally into it, eyes hooded while you could hear him mumble into you.
one of his hands left your thigh, causing you to whine when you felt him circling around you entrance. "nicho- please."
"louder, baobei. i need to know that you need me more than you need that stupid toy." you did as he said subconsciously when he eased his fingers inside of you. "there we go. nice and loud for me. such a treat my sweet girl."
he worked his fingers, quickly finding out what made you squirm. your breath came in short gasps, moaning out his name when his fingers curled deeply inside of you. his mouth never leaving you for more than a second.
you dug your hands into his hair as you felt your orgasm fast approaching- much faster than anything you've felt before. your stomach twisted in anticipation. "nicho- fuck... wait."
"no can do baobei." he mumbled against you, feeling you jerk at the vibration. "i'm not stopping until i feel you fall apart around my fingers."
"but- nicho!" you felt your orgasm slam into harder than you think it ever has. you felt it gush out of you, completely soaking the bed along with nicholas' face and hand. he held you tightly through it with a smile on his face, making sure to clean every drop from your skin before pulling away from you.
"my baobei." you opened your eyes when his nose brushed against yours. you could see the glistening on his face and lips from you, but he didn't care, slamming his lips onto yours. "such a messy girl. squirting all over me. think you can do it again?"
you blink at him before his words hit you. "i didn't even think that was possible."
"so i really am the best, aren't i?" he smirked, chuckling when you tried to push him away from you. "don't push me away, baobei. i'm not nearly done with you yet."
he ground his hips into yours, making you moan out as you felt him through his sweats. he did it again, slower as he watched your reaction before his lips found yours. your hands grabbed his shirt, tugging on it as you pulled away. "off."
"bossy little thing, aren't you?" he said but raised up on his knees, removing his shirt and watching as your eyes trail down his body- stopping at his hands as they grabbed his sweats. "do you want these off too?"
you nod your head. "i do. please."
"you know when i do, everything changes right?" he questions as he leans back down again. "we're not going back to before. you'll be mine."
you smile, hand brushing his cheek. "i already am, nicho."
"fuck, baobei." his lips were slow, coaxing a sigh out of you as he pulled you close to him. your hands explore his warm skin, making your way down his body before stopping at his sweats. "go ahead sweet girl."
you start to push them down his legs when nicholas pulls away from you, pushing them the rest of the way down. he springs free, flushed and begging for your touch. he lets out a low groan as soon as your hand wraps around him. you move slowly, wanting to memorize every sound he makes just like he was doing to you. you added pressure causing him to thrust into your hand when your fingers lightly squeeze him.
his hand wraps around yours when you lead him closer to you, moaning out his name when he runs down your folds. he does it again, making sure to run over your sensitive clit and having you clenching around nothing.
"please, nicho." you beg when he repeats the action. "i need you."
your words make him move, positioning himself at your entrance before pausing to look at you. you nod your head when you see the question in his eyes, sighing into his mouth when he kisses you. with one hand on your thigh, he slowly eased into you. he took his time with you, wanting to feel everything- from the way you clench around him to your nails digging into his arms.
you groaned at the stretch, throwing your head back as nicholas buries his head in your neck, whispering how well you were doing for him between each kiss.
"fuck, baobei. you're so fucking tight for me. i can barely move." you whimper at his words as his hips meet yours, pausing once again to give you a second to adjust. he knew you were ready when you squirmed beneath him- a whine slipping past your lips. "what was that, sweet girl? i didn't quite hear you."
"please move." you beg quietly. he stayed still, making you think that he wanted more, but he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth before starting to move. you let out a moan when he found the speed that had your legs tightening around his waist. "oh my god, nicho."
he hummed against your neck, lips gliding along your skin as he kissed along your jaw. "does that feel good, baobei?"
"so good."
"what about this?" his hands grip your thighs, pulling them higher up his waist before rolling his hips against yours- smiling when you let out a loud moan. "god, you sound so good. you look good too, pretty girl. all spread out for me as you only think about me."
your face flushes at his words. "god nicho."
"what? you know it's true. just like we both know who you belong to, isn't that right?" you whimper when nicholas' hips snap into yours. you nod your head, but that wasn't what he wanted. "say it, baobei. who's are you?"
you cry out, clinging to him when his hand finds your clit before trying to bring you over the edge, but you knew he would let you before you answered him. you could tell when he slacked off when you were right on the edge. "you, nicho. i'm yours."
"that's right." he praised, kissing your forehead. "now be a good girl and let me feel you come around me."
as soon as he applied pressure to your clit once again, it was enough for your orgasm to crash into you. you heard him groan as your entire body went tense before you were able to relax again. your body felt exhausted, never having so many mind blowing orgasms like this. you didn't know how you were even going to move tomorrow.
you let out a gasp as you were flipped, landing on top of nicholas as he now rested back against the bed. he shifted his hips, making you groan as you felt him ease inside of you once again. "you can handle one more for me, can't you baobei?"
though your body felt spent, you found yourself nodding your head, moving your hips with his help. he guided you until he felt you take control, gripping his shoulders as you once again become lost in pleasure.
"do you know how hard it was to lay in that bed and hear you in here?" nicholas questioned, fingers digging into your waist. "to hear these pretty lips make the most beautiful sounds and not being able to burst in here and be the cause of them."
you let out a gasp as his hips met yours, nearly sending you crashing into him. "if it makes you feel better, you were the cause of them."
"is that what you wanted, baobei?" he questioned, his hands now controlling your speed. "for me to have come in here and claim this perfect body?"
a whine fell from your lips at his words, wordlessly nodding as you felt your orgasm creeping up again. you didn't think you were going to last much longer, and he didn't look like he was either. "nicho-"
as soon as his thumb brushed your clit, you felt your orgasm slam into you. you collapsed on top of nicholas, clinging to him tightly as his lips found your cheek. you heard him let out a low groan as you clenched around him before feeling him release inside of you.
"i knew you could do it again, my sweet girl." he praised as you rested your head on his shoulder, feeling as his warm hand run along your body.
he's gentle when he pulls away from you, completely different than a few minutes prior- pressing a kiss to the side of your head before moving you back onto your bed. he cleaned you, softly peppering kisses to your sore body before making sure you put his shirt back on. once you were settled, he cleaned himself up before sliding in next to you, pulling your exhausted body towards him.
you lay facing him, eyes barely opening as his thumb brushes against your cheek. "still think you're too old for me?"
that caused you to look at him, laughing when you noticed how hard he was trying not to laugh. you weakly shoved his shoulder. "shut up. you still need to respect me. higher authority and all that."
"oh please." he scoffs, pulling you further into his arms. he smiles against your lips when he kisses you, feeling as you relax into him. "we both know i do."
"you weren't a few minutes ago."
"you sure didn't sound objected to it at the time." you roll your eyes at him before resting your head on his shoulder, feeling his lips kiss your forehead as you closed your eyes. you knew that the two of you still needed to talk about this, but right now you just wanted to sleep- preferably in his arms.
"shut up and go to sleep."
"yes ma'am."
an: i feel like i got too carried away the the whole older aspect... whoops.
i cant hear anything rn so idk if the warnings r right.. but ik its japanese and insta thought of &team!! was gonna do jo to this audio but i have an addiction to ej atm lmao
【 18+ 】 pussy licking, mommy mentions and praising.
PUSSY DRUNK JO who will ask very coyly for you to be able to stand between your legs. pleading in a low, soft voice, rubbing his face against your knees.
PUSSY DRUNK JO who sucks on your clit while making that little pout of his.
PUSSY DRUNK JO who definitely munchs as if he's eating a dessert.
PUSSY DRUNK JO who will get completely messy, his mouth all sticky and wet, wanting to prove more of your juice.
PUSSY DRUNK JO who calls you mommy when it's getting too good for him to handle. “I love your pussy so much, mommy~”
PUSSY DRUNK JO who rolls his tongue just the way you like. poking at your entrance, accumulating more squirts just to suck it all up later.
PUSSY DRUNK JO who follows your expressions with his eyes, attentively, to understand the pleasure he's giving you and also cause that excites him even more.
PUSSY DRUNK JO who will unzip his pants and start masturbating with one hand, holding your thigh with the other.
PUSSY DRUNK JO who gets more excited when you grab his hair, because of the intensity, taking it out on him. makes him squirm faster and moan more.
PUSSY DRUNK JO who's going to cum with you, as orgasm approaches, nodding his head in agreement. feeling your pussy throb more and more, already dripping cum. he'll clean and kiss it a few more times.
𖦹 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 : dirty talk, provocação, fuma namoradinho, fuma big d!ck, dumbfication, apelidinhos diversos, relacionamento estabelecido, sexo sem proteção (NÃO façam🫵), cowgirl, uns tapas e eu acho que só.
𖦹 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 : pspsps ei gatinha @mahteeez... vem aqui, vem… 🫦 Bom meus amores, mais uma historinha do projeto ‘the wolf's den 🐺’ pra vocês e dessa vez é com esse homem que dispensa comentários. (minha mamah que o diga ☝🏾
o plot foi inspirado no corte de uma live dele, então se quiserem dar uma olhadinha no fuma sendo uma fofura abrindo cartinha de pokemon, cliquem aqui.
Usei alguns termo referente ao mundo de pokemon e collectors, então fiz um pequeno guia para casos vocês tenham alguma dúvida, sigam a numeração e voltem aqui para a explicação. ⭐️
¹ Pokémon é uma franquia de mídia (Anime) criada em 1995. Ela é centrada em criaturas ficcionais chamadas "Pokémon", onde os seres humanos capturam e os treinam para lutarem entre si com seus ataques de diversos tipos.
² Pacote com 108 (ou mais) cartas de expansão — o citado na história é especificamente o de expansão Prismáticas — de Pokémons.
³ Espécie de Pokémon fictícia pertencente ao anime Pokémon. Descrito como um rato elétrico de cor amarela. Originalmente foi criado para ser um personagem secundário, mas acabou sendo o mascote do universo Pokémon ao ter sido escolhido como um dos personagens principais na adaptação do anime passado na tv. Hoje ele é considerado o Pokémon mais popular da franquia.
⁴ Espécie de Pokémon fictícia pertencente ao anime Pokémon. É uma mistura de mamíferos como raposa, gato e coelho, projetado para ser um "quadro em branco" com características de todos eles, incluindo orelhas longas de coelho, focinho de gato/cachorro e cauda de raposa, refletindo sua capacidade de evoluir para diversas formas.
⁵ Um Deck é o baralho personalizado de 60 cartas montado por cada jogador. Em um deck normalmente há Pokémons, energias e cartas de treinador. Itens que são usadas para as batalhas contra outros jogadores nos jogos de cartas colecionáveis Pokémon.
⁶ Jolteon é uma das oito formas finais de Eevee. Evolui de Eevee ao tocar uma *Pedra do Trovão* e é uma de suas oito possíveis evoluções.
⁷ Umbreon é mais uma das formas de evolução de Eevee. Evolui de Eevee ao ser upado durante a noite.
⁸ Sylveon também é uma das formas finais de Eevee, do tipo Fada. Evolui ao subir de nível com alta amizade enquanto conhece um movimento do tipo Fada ou, no caso de Pokémon X e Pokémon Y,após obter dois níveis de Afeto.
Por cima da tela azulada de seu celular, você conseguia observar Fuma totalmente aconchegado no chão da sala, a posição de pernas cruzadas liberando as coxas grossas e musculosas do namorado, devido ao tecido molinho da bermuda subir conforme as movimentações eufóricas do Murata. A caixa de ² booster recém comprada à frente era remexida com muito cuidado por ele, como se fosse um pequeno tesouro recém-achado. Alguns pacotinhos holográficos de cards de ¹ Pokémon estavam organizadinhos em fileiras meio tortas à frente dele; outros já tinham sido abertos, dispondo varias cartinhas separadas utilmente pela mesinha de centro da sala.
Você estava jogadinha no sofá atrás dele, com os pezinhos jogados contra o estofado marrom e o tronco abrigado contra uma almofada gordinha. O corpo relaxado era coberto apenas por uma blusa enorme de um jogo qualquer que seu namorado tinha te dado e uma calcinha de renda rosinha.
Antes, sua atenção era toda voltada ao ecrã de seu celular. Seu dedinho rolava e rolava por todas suas redes sociais, vendo os videozinhos bobinhos e os conteúdos supérfluos que a telinha te proporcionava. Isso até o Murata se abeirar ao chão da sala com um sorriso de criança atentada e uma caixinha colorida em mãos.
Achava engraçadinho, beirando ao adorável, acompanhar as loucuras que seu namorado fazia por aqueles pedaços de papelão cheios de personagens dos mais variados tipos. Você não entendia nada do universo da animação. Limitava-se a conhecer o famoso ³ Pikachu e a comentar os personagens fofinhos nos momentos em que Fuma lhe mostrava alguma carta, porém admitia ser um hobbie divertido, visto que assistia de pertinho a todas as gastanças de Murata em itens voltados ao mundo dos personagens da animação.
Os dedos longos abriam os lacres dos saquinhos com um cuidado que não combinava em nada com a ansiedade evidente no rosto do japonês. Podia ouvi-lo murmurar baixinho algumas vezes. Murmurava o nome de uns Pokémons antes mesmo de virar o card, como se estivesse os invocando ou pedindo para o dito cujo aparecer na carta a ser virada.
— ‘Tá, esse aqui… — Os olhinhos puxados se fecham e logo em seguida uma carta é puxada para cima. Ele abre os olhos e franze o cenho, abrindo um sorriso largo ao observar o desenho presente na carta. “Ah, é um ⁴ Eevee!” Comemora. “Bom, um comum, mas a arte é muito louca. Se liga, amor…”
Ele eleva a carta para que você pudesse analisar o desenho. Realmente, a cartinha era uma gracinha.
— Gosto ‘pra caralho desse garotão aqui… — Fuma continuou, empolgado. — O Eevee pode evoluir para várias formas diferentes. Tudo dependendo do ambiente, da energia… Ele é quase um Pokémon de possibilidades infinitas, muito foda… Pena que essa carta aí não tem muita utilidade no ⁵ Deck.
Amava o fato de que ele se empenhava em te incluir, nem que seja um pouquinho, naquele mundinho dele. Gostava de o observar concentrado nas explicações dos poderes aquisitivos de cada cartinha que sacava dos pacotes, da forma que os olhos quase brilhavam quando tirava uma carta boa para sua coleção. Você faltava se derreter com o jeitinho empolgado do namorado, uma vez que, por algum motivo dentro de sua cabecinha apaixonada, toda essa disposição era perigosamente excitante.
Ah, qual é? Você não tem culpa de seu corpinho entregue não conseguir se controlar ao ouvir o gostoso do seu namorado falar com tanta devoção e empenho sobre o próprio hobbie.
Você engole seco em meio à explicação do japonês. Foi inevitável se ajeitar no acanhado sofá. As perninhas antes estiradas pelo afofado agora se cruzavam discretamente.
Totalmente alheio ao comecinho de algo em sua cabecinha suja, Fuma puxa outro card do bolinho que segurava.
— Esse aqui é um ⁶ Jolteon. — explica, animado. “É a evolução elétrica desse último que eu te mostrei, mô. Rápido ‘pra caramba. Não é um dos meus preferidos, não.”
— Ele me lembra o Pikachu… — Você comenta despretensiosa, observando o sorriso lindo que brota nos lábios do Murata. Os lábios dele estavam tão convidativos. Porra, aquilo foi o suficiente para você sentir um calor estranho se acumular no baixo ventre com mais intensidade.
Ele ri fraco. “ ‘Tá ficando boa, hein, princesa?” O olhar evidenciava que ele estava orgulhoso dessa sua pequena lembrança.
Fuma, desvia a atenção e abre mais um pacotinho. O som do plástico sendo rasgado fez um leve arrepio subir por sua espinha. Ridículo, mas, poxa, você não conseguia evitar.
— Tô sentindo que esse pacote tá bom… — ele murmura, olhando as cartas viradas para baixo em sequência.
Você prende o lábio inferior entre os dentes devagarinho. Os olhos presos nas mãos dele. As veias discretas sob a pele leitosa. Sua mente rodopiava em pensamentos sórdidos, relembrando os estragos que aquelas mesmas mãos faziam em você. As mesmas mãos de toques gentis de agora, que viravam sua perdição em determinados momentos.
— Mô! — Ele chama, sem olhar para trás. “Senta aqui, hm? Vem ver esse comigo.”
O chamado faz brotar um pequeno sorriso no canto de seus lábios. Levantou-se devagar e se esgueirou com calma até ele. Se aconchegou sobre as pernas dobradas do namorado, abrigando suas costas contra o tronco forte de Fuma.
— Ó, esse aqui é um ⁷ Umbreon. — mostrou. — É uma evolução sombria. Ele é mais defensivo e estratégico. Essa carta é meio fraca, mas ele é fofo, não é?
Sua cabecinha sobe para cima e para baixo em concordância. A voz rouquenha falada contra a pele sensível de sua nuca faz um novo caminho de arrepios correr por seu corpo e, dessa vez, seu jeitinho entregue não passa despercebido pelo Murata, que sorri de canto ao ver seu corpinho se encolher contra o dele.
Por rápidos segundos você desvia o fitar da cartinha para encarar de lado o rosto másculo próximo ao seu. Observa a concentração suave e os longos cílios projetados em sombra nas bochechas. Sente algo faminto crescer dentro de seu âmago. Aquele desejo cru de ter. De ser egoísta o bastante para arrancar a atenção dele das cartas e a puxar toda para si.
Contudo… não o fez. Ainda. Havia algo profundamente excitante em observá-lo.
O japonês puxou mais algumas cartas. O polegar deslizando pelas bordas coloridas do papelão com cuidado. Você sentia a quentura do corpo dele através do tecido fino da blusa larga. O peito forte do namorado subindo e descendo lentamente pela respiração morosa, fazendo seu torso acompanhar a movimentação calma. Você se mexe de levinho sobre o volume adormecido, procurando mais daquele contato que tanto ansiava de forma inconsciente.
Fuma percebe a pequena agitação, claro. No entanto, resolve explorar até onde seu teatrinho de falsa inocência iria.
— ‘Cê tá agitada hoje, mô... — murmurou contra seu pescoço, bem baixinho, quase como se falasse pra si mesmo. Despeja exatos três selinhos pela curva de seu pescoço, apoiando o queixo na ponta de seu ombro ao passo que volta a atenção para as cartas, organizando algumas já abertas em uma pilhinha ao lado. Cínico.
— Hm? Eu? — respondeu, fingindo desinteresse, mas a voz saiu mais macia do que pretendia.
Ele riu pelo nariz, aquele riso baixo que vibrava contra suas costas e fazia seu estômago dar um pequeno nó. Não disse nada, apenas puxou mais um pacote da caixa, analisando o desenho da embalagem como se pudesse arrancar alguma pista dali.
— Toma, ‘cê que vai abrir esse aí… — Te entrega o pequeno pacote, mantendo o queixo apoiadinho no seu ombro, claramente animado. — ‘Pra me dar sorte.
Você compartilha um riso fofo com ele, se abrigando mais contra ele ao passo que rasga o plastiquinho com cautela.
As cartas foram sendo viradas e reveladas uma a uma. Pelo pouco que entendia, conseguiu perceber algumas sendo de energia — seja lá o que isso significava — e algumas com desenhos mais simples, repetidas, que Fuma vai ajeitando bem ao ladinho. Até que, ao virar a última cartinha, escuta um sonzinho surpreso soar do namorado e o pequeno pedacinho de papelão ser tirado de seus dedos. O corpo dele enrijece por um segundo, como se tivesse levado um pequeno choque.
— Não acredito… — Sussurrou.
Você inclina a cabeça, curiosa.
— O que foi?
Ele virou a carta com cuidado, como se fosse frágil demais para existir. Os olhinhos puxados arregalados.
⁸ Sylveon. Conhecia aquela bonitinha de longe. A carta holográfica parecia brilhar sob a luz amarelada da sala. Tons de rosa, laços delicados, a pequena personagem ao centro em meio a vários cristais e itens coloridos. A carta era realmente muito linda.
— Sylveon… — Fuma disse, a voz quase que reverente. “Caralho, é uma Sylveon muito rara, mô. Muito rara.”
Os olhos ainda se mantinham arregalados, a expressão desacreditada estava presente no rosto nevado junto a um sorriso aberto de pura felicidade. Parecia uma criança recebendo exatamente o presente que sonhou.
— Caralho, amor. Olha isso! — ele disse, rindo.
Uma risadinha fraca escapa de seus lábios pela empolgação sincera do Murata. O sonzinho meigo puxa a atenção de Fuma da cartinha para você, que o admirava nublado. Porra, tinha achado adorável a reação do namorado com algo tão fútil.
No entanto… Algo dentro dessa bolha amorável que encontravam-se a fez contrair. Um desejo quente, quase indecente, subindo lento e inevitável.
Sua mente voou. Pensava em como era fácil para você o querer tanto. A todo momento.
— 'Cê fica tão lindinho assim, amor… — você murmura, sem pensar.
Fuma não responde de imediato. Após alguns segundinhos, consegue observar um sorriso torto se desenhar nos lábios rubros ao ele soltar um “É?” com a voz rouquenha, baixinho, arrastada e perigosamente calma. A cartinha de Sylveon ainda estava presa entre os dedos dele, mas a atenção já não era mais dela.
Balança a cabeça devagarinho em concordância. Fazendo um teatrinho meiguinho que sabia ser o ponto fraco do Murata.
Se apoia nos joelhos. Ergue o quadril apenas para se virar e logo voltar a se abrigar no colo de Fuma, de frente para ele.
— Não ‘tô te atrapalhando, ‘tô? — provocou, a falsa inocência presente na voz.
— ‘Tá — ele responde com um sorrisinho repuxado no canto dos lábios, relaxando as costas contra a base do sofá, dando mais espaço para seu corpinho se acomodar sobre ele. “ ‘Tá me atrapalhando muito, princesa…”
— É? — provoca Abraça o pescoço dele. Os lábios roçando lentinho no do japonês.
Ele segura seu queixo. Olha por cima. “É.” Sela sua boquinha com cuidado, emendando logo um beijo profundo, repleto de um tesão inicial, preguiçoso.
Seus dedinhos logo se enterram nos fios negros do garoto. Puxa os fiozinhos entre os dedos ao passo que começa a ondular o quadril sobre o membro dele, que já endurecia. Sente as mãos grandes escorregarem por sua coxa, arrastam-se por sua bunda arrebitadinha até alcançar sua cintura por debaixo da camisetinha do pijama e deixando apertos na região. Esperava que a cartinha rara estivesse em segurança…
Sem cessar o carinho de uma das mãos nas madeixas de Fuma em meio ao beijo, você esgueira a palma direita até o caralho tortinho do Murata. Acaricia todo o comprimento por cima da bermuda de malha, sendo capaz de perceber a falta de uso da cueca que te faz soltar um risinho contra os lábios do japonês.
Ele suspira. Estoca o quadril pra cima, querendo mais daquela caricia luxuriosa que você entregava. O baque contra sua bucetinha ainda coberta pela calcinha pequenininha só a faz derreter mais sobre o namorado. Não controla os gemidinhos manhosos que saem de sua boquinha em junção a ofegos.
Em um gesto ágil, observa-o cortar o beijo e levar as mãos até o enlaço da bermuda, liberando o caralho duro, que já expelia uma pequena gota de pré-gozo da cabecinha vermelha e inchada. Fuma não perde tempo em rasgar o paninho frágil de sua calcinha e jogar o pequeno trapo pela sala. O desespero em te ter se torna cada vez mais nítido a cada ação dele.
— Eu vou te surrar ‘pra caralho… — Encaixa a glande. “Fuder essa bucetinha de puta desesperada.”
— Amor, não fala assi-Ah! — O estalo forte da palma contra sua bunda interrompe a indagação manhosa que viria a seguir. Você prende os lábios entre os dentes. Puxa o arzinho. Merda, adora quando ele é brutinho com você.
— Anda! Se fode no meu pau, hm? — Manda, a voz rouca emanando luxúria “Era isso que sua cabecinha de ninfeta queria desde o começo, não é?”
Mais um estalo. Tinha certeza de que sua bundinha já estava com marquinhas avermelhadas.
Você revira os olhos. Firma o aperto dos dedinhos contra os fios da nuca de Fuma ao passo que desce devagar pelo comprimento grosso. “G-grande… Hmmm… Muito”, murmura com manha ao abrigar todo o cacete em seu interior quentinho.
— É? Mas ‘cê aguenta, não é princesa? — Observa seu concordar de cabeça com os olhinhos fechados e a testinha enrugada. Adorava te reduzir a uma burrinha pelo pau dele.
Sem esperar seu buraquinho se acostumar, Murata agarra seu quadril com força. A ilharga malhada começa a estocar com força pra cima, fazendo o caralho acertar fundo com rigidez. Atolava tudo que conseguia para logo em seguida admirar sua bucetinha expelir o membro completamente embebido de seu líquido interior, podendo ouvir seus gemidinhos engasgados e as palavras desconexas pedindo por mais.
— Fuma…— Sua vozinha quebradiça consegue murmurar. “Fundo… Muito fundo… Argh! M-merda…Você vai me quebrar.”
Nota o sorriso chulo que nasce nos lábios do japonês ao ouvir sua súplica manhosinha. Ele estava completamente absorto ao vai e vem em seu interior, movendo-se com uma força deliciosa. O barulho do próprio pau se enterrando em seu fundo o levando à loucura. “Isso, caralho… ‘Cê quer que eu quebre você na pica, é gostosa?”
— Hmmm, Fuma… Isso! — Soa com dengo.
— Tsc… Já ‘tá tão burrinha que não consegue nem me responder direito…
Você revira os olhos mais uma vez. O corpinho tremendo sobre o dele. Sentia seu orgasmo cada vez mais perto e nem tinha encostado em seu grelinho sensível. Mas antes que pudesse sentir o gelo ao pé do estômago, se atenta às mãos do namorado a virarem sobre o chão, mudando a posição com agilidade que você não foi capaz de captar pela mente nublada de prazer.
Seu rosto agora estava de encontro ao tapete felpudo da sala, enquanto sua bundinha estava arrebitadinha para cima. Toda empinadinha. “Fuma...” Manha baixinho ao o sentir cobrir a retaguarda e se enfiar em sua bucetinha de novo.
— Gostosa… — Estala um tapa na banda direita. “Segura essa bunda empinadinha desse jeito pra mim, ‘tá me ouvindo?” Mais um. “‘Cê pediu pra eu te quebrar, não, é? Agora você vai aguentar…”
— thinkin’ about nerdy!fuma and his obsession w/ studying & you.
warnings: (18+) nsfw. smut. nerdy bf!fuma, afab!reader, pleasure dom!fuma (maybe???), scientific terms as dirty talk, slight humiliation (if you squint), oral (m receiving), cockwarming, unprotected sex (wrap it!), brief mentions of spit & biting, intellectual foreplay ✮⋆˙
a/n: requested by anon, tysm & hope you likeee! i felt like i wrote a lot more than just a small thought LOL now i will forever think about nerdy fumaaaa >.<
nerdy!fuma, showing off his entire book of the most insanely organized obsession you've ever seen... and that's what intrigues you, that's what makes you adore him so much. he's got all the rarest cards in a separate book and you're the lucky chosen one he's shown, letting you know he's never shown this to anyone before ever.
but he's not your shy timid nerd, he takes pride of his intellect and obsessions, the calm and reserved but assertive type. carries himself so well, the only thing making him seem nerdy is when he opens his mouth to ramble about the latest pokémon game he's been into with your family or somethin. you're just in love with the nerdy man. his nerdiness doesn't just fall into the categories of his hobbies, no. he's your typical academic weapon nerd that takes his studies very very seriously, very engrossed into whatever books his major demands him to study.
nerdy!fuma, not only into studying your random science and history, but obsessed with psychology and anatomy— specifically yours.
nerdy!fuma, also the type to never be afraid of having what he wants happen, again.. assertive. he gets it done. like, if he wants you on your knees underneath his desk while he's going over the human integumentary system, he'll ask— not even, he'll tell you, in the most insanely relaxed way. adding on a little shrug, a kiss to your forehead as a thanks in advance and a small "it helps me concentrate." might even add a small pout, since he knows it always makes your heart skip a beat. who are to say no when you know he's been stressed for final examsssss??
he did tell you and show you before that the best scientifically proven way to relieve stress was with an orgasm.. you’d love to repay the favor!
the furrow between his eyebrows never smoothens as he concentrates on the words in his notebook but his hand never leaves the top of your head, gently pressing you down to take his cock further into your mouth until it bulges your cheek. he tilts his head in confusion when he forgets the meaning of a word, looking onto the textbook and jotting down additional notes with his other hand, but his cock twitches in your mouth when your tongue curls underside his length. there's drool already trickling down to the base of his pelvis, and you're growing restless yourself despite how soft his pets were over your hair, you're still shifting where you sat on your calves between his thick thighs. he notices though, without taking his eyes off his stupid notebook, but doesn't say anything other than gently lifting you off his thick cock and smiling softly at the wet pop your lips make.
"c'mere, i found something interesting i wanna share with you." he won't tell you he does that because you almost made him cum right then and there, but also because he wants to see your disheveled state more clear. helps you get up when you stumble from how dazed you were, thumbs away your stray tears and collects the rest of your spit from your chin to lick it clean from his fingers. plants a small peck on your lips, turns you in his lap and starts speaking. "i've always told you how pretty you look when you're taking my cock, right?" you have no idea where he's going with this but you do know where he's going with his hands as they pull down your pants and underwear in one swift motion.
"you get so flushed pink and sometimes it really makes me wonder how, you know?" you're nodding along to his words, mindlessly and humming without purpose, lips pursed together and eyebrows furrowed with need. he keeps going, softly, like his hand that snakes itself between your legs to quickly check how wet you are. dripping. how were you able to focus when he's suddenly pulling you around to sink down onto his cock? "it's called hyperemia, vasodilation." he points to a blurry word jotted down on his notebook, you're blinking to keep your eyes open but a soft moan leaves your mouth when he finally bottoms out deep within you. he hums, fixing his frames as he rests his chin over your shoulder while you're still trying to contain your soft moans. so full, that's all you could think of, him plugging you so perfectly, when his deep voice cuts off your thoughts and billows into your ear, rich and smooth.
"widening of the blood vessels in response to sexual stimulation," his voice rumbles in a smooth purr and his chest feels so comfortable behind your back, you're floating already. you wanna move, but his arm wrapped around your waist doesn't allow you to. so you grip onto the edge of his desk and exhale.
"you get so pink everywhere; cheeks, nose, lips, chest, hips, pussy…”
he doesn't even sound the least affected by the way your walls tighten around him, maybe a bit shaky as he continues explaining. you know, nerding out.
"fuma." you sigh, thighs spread overtop his thighs that open wider. "can we... take a break?"
"i'm sorry, sweetheart. may we stay here a bit longer? just wanna feel you-i promise i’ll be done in just a few minutes."
you're already restless by minute five. chest heaving as you occasionally rut your hips only to get a small bite on the shoulder back. you only get a small grunt out of him once when you suddenly lean onto the desk and roll your hips back with deliberate purpose-that was the first and last time he lets you do it.
because that's all he needed to suddenly trap you in his arms, spring up from his chair, and whirl you across the room and onto his bed to fix your desperate problems. fucking you in all positions you both can think of to satisfy your needs. he’s always known what you want, and he’s willing to give it to you always, of course with a lil bit of teasing here and there.. just wants to see how much you can handle before whining for his full attention, which he’ll give in a heartbeat once he sees that sex flush he’s so obsessed with blossom on your body..
.ᐟwarnings/tags: dealer/stoner!nicho, i call him weno in this, soft dom!nicho, shy!reader, loverboy!nicho, drug use, shotgunning, romantic, making out, dry humping, praising, fingering, oral (f. receiving), p in v, mating press, crying, unprotected sex, confessing, aftercare
♡ you started buying weed for your friends and ended up falling for the dealer—turns out, he fell even harder.
.ᐟwc: 9.7k (no proofread)
You’d seen him around long before you ever spoke to him. He wasn’t the kind of guy you could ignore. Not because he was loud, Weno was anything but loud, but because he had this presence. Calm, quiet, and detached, like nothing ever really touched him. He was always there but just out of reach. The kind of person who didn’t care if people were watching, but somehow still ended up being the one everyone looked at. You had a couple classes near the same buildings. He always showed up late, always dressed like he’d just rolled out of bed—big hoodie, baggy jeans, backpack hanging off one shoulder. Never rushed. Never looked stressed. Just there. He’d walk past where you and your friends were sitting on the grass and barely glance your way. But even that one second felt heavier than it should. You didn’t know much about him, but you noticed him. You always had. Weno wasn’t exactly a mystery, everyone on campus knew what he did, they just didn’t talk about it. Not out loud, anyway. The stories passed around in whispers. That he sells, and it’s good shit too. That he never chased customers, people came to him. That if he liked you, he might give you more than you paid for. That if he really liked you, you’d know.
You didn’t know if any of that was true. But what you did know was that your friends wanted weed and were too scared to go get it themselves. So they asked you. Apparently, being the quiet one made you the designated “safe” option. It wasn’t like you and Weno were strangers, anyway. You’d talked a few times now. Nothing long, quick chats during pickups, the occasional hi at a party when you passed by each other. He’d never made you feel weird or unsafe. Just… flustered. A little warm in the chest, a little unsure what to say next. He had a way of watching you that felt deliberate, even when he said nothing at all. Your friend had shoved some cash into your hand at the last minute, babbling about how “he’s chill, he’s not scary, just please go for me, I can’t” — and you’d sighed, texting him before you could overthink it. He told you to meet him behind the dorms. 6:30. You almost didn’t go. You weren’t sure why he made you nervous, he hadn’t done anything to deserve that label. But something about him felt sharp beneath all the calm. Like he could see through you if he wanted to. When you rounded the corner that evening, he was already leaning against the side of his car, phone in hand, headphones around his neck. The sun was low, painting the edges of his face gold. You caught yourself staring before you could stop. He looked up as you approached. “Didn’t expect you,” he said, not moving. You blinked, “Why?” He shrugged, “Thought one of your loud friends would be the one to show. You’re not really the type to do this.” It wasn’t teasing exactly, but the way he said it made your face warm. You cleared your throat. “They made me come.” “Mm,” he hummed. “Figured.”
He pushed off the car, pulling a ziplock from his hoodie pocket. You reached for it automatically, but he didn’t hand it over right away. “You ever tried it?” You shook your head. “No. It’s not really… my thing.” He tilted his head slightly. Not judging, just observing. “Didn’t think it was.” he chuckled softly, then he handed it to you, fingers brushing yours for half a second too long. You looked down at your hand, not at the bag, but at where your skin still tingled. “You’re good,” he said quietly, “Let me know next time.” You nodded, muttered a soft thanks, already starting to turn away, but then he said your name. You froze and glanced back. He was still standing by his car, one hand in his pocket, the other lazily spinning his keys around his finger. The way he looked at you made your stomach flip, like he wasn’t just looking at you, but through you. “You always do stuff for your friends?” His tone was casual, but the question caught you off guard. “What do you mean?” He shrugged a little. “They want something, and you’re the one who shows up.” A pause. “That happen a lot?”You weren’t sure how to answer. It did happen a lot. They asked, you went. Not because you wanted to, but because it felt easier than saying no. You glanced down at the ziplock in your hand. “I guess,” you mumbled. “I don’t know.” He hummed low, like that told him everything he needed to know. You looked back up, ready to say something else—anything, maybe even defend yourself, but he beat you to it. “You’re a good girl.” The words were soft and genuine, but they landed heavy. Your breath caught. His gaze didn’t waver—steady, calm, like he hadn’t just said something that made your skin go warm all over. You didn’t know what to do with that. You didn’t even know what it meant coming from him. You just knew it made something flutter in your stomach. “Thanks,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. You turned and walked off a little too quickly, heart pounding, ears hot, his voice still echoing behind your ribs. You’re a good girl. You didn’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the night. It wasn’t long before your friends asked again. Same excuse, same tone, a whiny “please, he already knows you” and cash pushed into your hand like you owed them something. You hesitated more this time. Not because of them, but because of him. You hadn’t stopped thinking about last time. It replayed in your head again and again. You stared at his contact in your phone for some minutes before typing out the message.
You
hey my friends wanna grab again
He replied two minutes later.
Weno
same place 7:30
When you showed up this time, he was inside his car, driver’s door open, music playing low through the speakers. He looked up as you approached and smiled, lazy and half-lidded. “Hey,” he said, voice low. “Hey.”You tried not to sound nervous. You weren’t even sure why you were nervous. This wasn’t new. You’d done this before. But this time, it felt different. You felt different. He stepped out, shutting the car door behind him as he pulled the same ziplock from the pocket of his jeans. You took it wordlessly, but his fingers brushed yours again, on purpose this time. You could feel it in the way he didn’t rush, didn’t pull away immediately. “Still not trying it?” he asked, tilting his head. You shook your head. “Not yet.” He raised a brow. “Why not?” “I just… haven’t.” You tucked the bag quickly into your jacket pocket like it might deflect the attention. “You scared?” The way he asked it wasn’t mocking, just curious, like he wanted to understand you, not challenge you. You hesitated. “No,” you said finally. “Just don’t wanna.” He nodded slowly, watching you again with that unreadable expression. “Still doing things for your friends, though.” You pressed your lips together. “I guess.” “They ever do stuff for you?” You blinked. “What?” He shrugged. “Just wondering.” You didn’t answer. Mostly because you didn’t have one. He could probably tell, because he didn’t push. He just looked at you for a long second, eyes dropping to your mouth before flicking back up to meet your gaze as he rolled a blunt for him. “You should stop letting people use you.” The bluntness of it caught you off guard. You shifted on your feet, unsure whether to say thank you or tell him it wasn’t like that, even though maybe it was. “You don’t even like them that much, do you?” Your breath hitched. “They’re my friends.” “Mm,” he hummed. “If you say so.”
After that, it happened a few more times. The same routine: a text, a time, a quiet walk behind the dorms where he’d be waiting. Sometimes he was standing. Sometimes in the driver’s seat with the door open. Sometimes already smoking, low music humming from the speakers. And each time, it got a little easier to look him in the eye. But also harder not to look too long. Weno never talked much. He didn’t fill silence just to hear himself speak. He asked things, small things, personal in ways that didn’t feel invasive, just seen. He was trying to piece you together quietly, without making a show of it. You’d come with your friends’ money in your pocket and leave with more than you paid for. Not every time, but enough that you noticed. When you offered to give him more, he just shook his head, said “You’re good,” and he meant it, it wasn’t just about the cash anymore. You didn’t tell your friends about how often you started going. Sometimes it wasn’t even about picking up anymore. You’d hand over the cash, but he’d wave it off. “Not this time.” You started to wonder if he even gave you real amounts. If this was still a deal or just an excuse. What you did know was that somewhere along the way, something started to shift.
It was in the way your pulse picked up when his name lit up your screen. In how you started getting ready earlier than you needed to. In how you made sure your outfit and make up was cute before leaving, like that would help keep your face from giving you away when he looked at you like he always did. It was on the low. No one really knew how often you were seeing him now—certainly not your friends. To them, it was still just you doing the awkward task they were too scared for. They didn’t know that half the time you went to Weno now, it wasn’t even because of them. Sometimes they didn’t ask at all—you just found yourself texting him anyway. And he always said yes. You weren’t sure when it stopped being about weed. You weren’t sure it ever really was. Sometimes you’d sit with him for a while. In the passenger seat of his car, parked in the same quiet lot behind the dorms. He’d roll one and lean back with the window cracked, slow smoke curling out into the night while music filled the silence. He never pushed anything on you. Never asked why you stayed. But you stayed. You weren’t good at talking about yourself, and he didn’t make you. He just gave you space to exist, and maybe that was what started doing it. Maybe that’s why you kept feeling warmer every time you saw him. More sure that he saw you. And you started to open up to him. You two would hang out and talk about anything and anyone very frequently.
You were curled up in the passenger seat, legs tucked under you, jacket zipped halfway. The night was cool, and the air smelled like weed and cologne, smoke curling from the blunt between his fingers. His playlist low in the background that made it feel like time moved slower in his car. You hadn’t said much in the last ten minutes. Just sat there, letting the silence hang. But it wasn’t awkward. Weno never made things awkward. You gave him a small smile, eyes drifting out the window. The streetlights cast a warm glow across the dashboard. He tapped the ash into the tray and leaned back, one arm stretched across the back of your seat like he didn’t even think about it. “I don’t get it,” you said quietly after a moment. “You do this with all your clients?” “Do what?” he asked, eyes narrowing slightly, playful but unreadable. “This.” You motioned vaguely between you. “Sit in the car, talk like this, not charge them.” He chuckled once, deep and soft in his chest. “No.” You blinked. “No?” He turned his head, looked right at you, and shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “They’re not you.” Your stomach fluttered. You tried to play it off, but your smile gave you away. He tilted his head slightly, watching you through the soft haze in the car. “You know you’re my favorite, right?” Your head snapped toward him. “What?” He smirked, exhaled a slow breath, eyes never leaving yours. “Client,” he added after a beat, but the pause was on purpose. His smirk deepened like he knew what he was doing to you. Your face went warm immediately. “Shut up,” you muttered, covering your smile with your hand. “I’m serious.” His tone was calm. “You don’t talk much, you don’t ask dumb questions, you never waste my time.” “Oh,” you said quietly. But your smile stayed. “So I’m convenient.” He leaned a little closer, voice dropping low. “Nah. You’re cute.” Your heart jumped. You didn’t know where to look. You didn’t know what to say. So you laughed—awkward and soft, trying to bury your face in your hands like that might cool your cheeks. You left a little later than usual that night.
Three days later, when your screen lit up with a text from him, you answered in less than a minute.
Weno
u free tonight?
wanna chill for a bit?
♡
You
yeah :)
same spot?
♡
Weno
pull up at 10
no rush
You tried not to read into it too much. But you still picked out a different hoodie this time, your favorite one, did a little extra on your make up, styled your hair in way you knew framed your face best. It wasn’t a date. It wasn’t anything. But your hands still felt warm as you walked out to meet him. His car was already there when you arrived. You climbed into the passenger seat, familiar now with the way the door stuck a little when you pulled it. Same playlist was on, and the heat was turned up just enough to make the inside feel cozy. He glanced over as you settled in, eyes flicking down to your mouth before meeting your gaze again. “Hey,” he said, voice smooth, quiet. “Hey,” you murmured back, smiling a little.
The next hour passed easily, like it always did when you were with him. You talked about nothing and everything, classes, music, random campus drama you weren’t even involved in, movies you both halfway remembered, the last weird dream you had. He laughed more than usual tonight, low and slow, eyes squinting a little when something you said caught him off guard. His hand rested on the steering wheel as he listened, thumb tapping the leather in a lazy rhythm. He made you feel comfortable, like whatever you had to say mattered even if it didn’t. Like he was listening just because it was you talking. At some point, he lit up. You were mid-sentence when he leaned forward to spark the lighter, the soft flick of it barely cutting into the music. He offered it to you once out of habit, holding the blunt out between two fingers, and this time you didn’t shake your head immediately. You hesitated. Then, before you could overthink it, you took it. Your fingers brushed his. His expression didn’t change, but something in his gaze lingered longer than before. “You sure?” he asked, voice soft, a little more serious now. You slowly nodded. “Yeah. Just—don’t laugh at me if I cough.” He smiled, “I won’t.” He leaned back into his seat. “Promise.” You inhaled, a small hit, like you’d seen him do a hundred times now. It burned, made your throat tickle, your eyes water just a little, but you didn’t cough. He watched carefully, still smiling. “Good girl,” he murmured.
Your chest tightened at the words, heat blooming under your skin before you could stop it. You handed it back to him quickly, trying to focus on the burn in your lungs, the soft thrum of bass in the background, anything except how warm you suddenly felt. Time got slower after that. An hour passed in a haze, soft laughter, lazy conversation, both of you sinking deeper into your seats, the windows fogging slightly. He smoked again, and passed it back and forth to you. Your body felt lighter. Music melted into the background, his voice a little rough now. You both stared out at the empty parking lot for a while, just existing. It was quiet in the way that felt close, not awkward. Every time your knee brushed his, he didn’t move. Every time you shifted, his eyes flicked toward your mouth, then back to the road like he didn’t want to get caught looking. And maybe it was the high, or the way the space between you had been shrinking since the start, but something changed. You turned to say something and caught him already looking at you, staring. His arm was still draped behind your seat, but now his fingers were brushing your shoulder, light and casual. You blinked at him. “What?” you whispered, voice lower than before. He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you for a long second, eyes warm, thoughtful. “C’mere.” You didn’t even think. You just leaned forward, heart thudding quietly behind your ribs as his hand slid slowly to the back of your neck. He tilted his head slightly. His lips brushed yours soft at first, testing. Then again, firmer. You leaned into it. Your heart stuttered, hands unsure of where to go. One found the edge of his hoodie. The other pressed lightly to his chest. His mouth moved against yours like he’d been thinking about this for a while. He wasn’t in any rush now that it was finally happening. You kissed him back slow, high and a little breathless, your skin buzzing all over. He pulled back eventually, just enough to look at you, eyes dark and steady.
“You’re high,” he said, almost teasing. “So are you,” you whispered. He smiled, gaze dropping to your lips again. “Yeah. But I still meant it.” You smiled, small and dazed, and tucked your legs under you again, curling back into your seat. The car was quiet for a few more minutes. Nothing changed. But everything had. And when you finally said you should go, he didn’t stop you. Just nodded, reached over, and opened the door for you like he always did. Before you stepped out, he caught your wrist gently. You turned back. His eyes searched yours for a moment. “Text me when you get in.” You nodded, “Okay.”
You
made it home :)
♡
Weno
good
was starting to think u got lost
♡
You
nope
just still thinking
♡
Weno
about?
♡
You
you
♡
Weno
yeah?
what part
♡
You
the obvious part
♡
Weno
mm
i liked that part too
didn’t rlly want u to go
♡
You
u didn’t?
♡
Weno
nah
wanted to kiss u again
♡
You
i wanted to too
but i got nervous :(
♡
Weno
it’s ok bby
will i see u again soon?
♡
You
yeah
if u want to
♡
Weno
i do
♡
You
can’t wait
goodnight weno :)
♡
Weno
me neither
gn <3
You didn’t stop thinking about that night. Or his texts. Or when he said he wanted to kiss you again. The way your heart stuttered when he called you bby like it wasn’t a big deal. Like it was already normal between you. It wasn’t, not really. But it was starting to be. You’d kept texting after that. Not every second of the day, but enough. Little check-ins, good mornings, music recs, late night questions that felt heavier than they sounded. He was never overly forward, not the type to blow up your phone or say things just to get a reaction, but everything he did say stuck with you. You were head over heels. Smiling at your phone and then burying your face in your pillow like an idiot every time. So when one of your friends mentioned the party coming up—some frat guy’s birthday, everyone was going, “you have to come, it’s gonna be huge”—you didn’t think much of it at first. Until she added, casually, “Pretty sure Weno’s gonna be there too, so you can’t get us some stuff as well?” That made your heart skip. You played it off, said “yeah, cool” and shrugged, but your brain had already started spiraling. What if you saw him? What if you didn’t? What if he ignored you in front of everyone? What if he didn’t? You told yourself you weren’t going for him. But you still stood in front of your closet longer than usual. You picked a dress—short, tight, something you hadn’t worn before. Simple, but it hugged you in all the right places. You did your makeup with more care than usual, spritzed perfume on your neck, your wrists, let your hair fall soft and full around your shoulders. You didn’t tell anyone why you looked a little extra tonight. But you kind of hoped he’d be there. And you really hoped he’d notice.
The house was already packed by the time you got there—music thumping through the walls, bodies crammed together in every corner, red cups in almost every hand. Lights low, flashing sometimes, music echoing through a speaker in the living room. It smelled like sweat, beer, weed, and cheap cologne. Typical. Your friends disappeared as soon as you walked in, squealing at someone they recognized near the kitchen. You stayed back for a second, just long enough to scan the crowd. Not because you were looking for anyone. Not on purpose, anyway. And then you saw Weno. Leaning against the far wall near the stairs, hoodie half-zipped over a white tank, cargo pants hanging low on his hips, the hem of his boxers peeking a little. He wasn’t dancing. Wasn’t talking loud or laughing or drinking like the rest of them. Just standing there, calm and unreadable, eyes lazily moving through the room like he’d been here a hundred times before. He was talking to someone, dapping them up quick, pulling something from his pocket and handing it off like it was nothing. No one looked twice. Just a quiet exchange, over in seconds. He didn’t try to be subtle, he didn’t have to. People came to him. You stayed near the edge of the crowd, drink in hand, pretending to be more focused on your friends than you were. But your eyes kept drifting back. He looked good. Effortlessly good. And he hadn’t seen you yet. You tried not to look over too often. Tried to focus on your friends and their chaotic conversations, the loud music, the colorful lights. You laughed at jokes that didn’t really register. Nodded along. Sipped water from your cup and told yourself it wasn’t that serious. He wasn’t even talking to you. He was doing his own thing. Still, your gaze kept drifting. Just to see if he was still there. Still. Every time you checked, he was. Some minutes passed like that—just you pretending to be more chill than you felt while your friends chattered and moved toward the crowd. You stayed behind, needing a second to breathe. You slipped into the kitchen, mostly empty now, except for the quiet hum of the fridge and the faint bass vibrating through the floor. You reached for the fridge handle, intent on just grabbing some cold water and hiding out for a bit, but when you turned, he was already there. Standing just inside the doorway. Watching. Your breath caught.
He didn’t say anything at first. His eyes scanned you slowly—top to bottom, unhurried. You felt it like a heatwave, settling low in your stomach. His gaze was darker than usual. Focused, sharp. You dropped your eyes immediately, trying not to fidget. Tugged lightly on the hem of your dress like it might help somehow, like maybe it covered more than it did. You felt your cheeks flush without him even having to speak. You weren’t even sure why you were so nervous. You’d seen him like this before, but something about tonight made it worse. Made you bite your lip without thinking. Made your cheeks burn just from the way he looked at you. “Didn’t know you’d be here,” he said, voice calm and even. A little rough from the smoke, but still warm. You glanced up, heart racing. “Yeah,” you said, “Wasn’t really planning to, but… my friends dragged me.” He smiled a little. “I’m glad you came.” Your breath hitched. You weren’t expecting that. “You look good tonight.” It landed heavy in your chest. No teasing. No smirk. Just him saying it like it was a fact. Your whole body flushed. “Oh,” you said, voice small. “Um. Thanks.” He nodded once, eyes still on you, and then glanced back toward the hallway. “I’m heading up to the balcony for a bit. If you wanna get some air.” He didn’t wait for an answer. Just gave you one last look—soft, lingering—and pushed off the doorframe to leave. “Come find me,” he said, and then he was gone. Leaving you standing in the kitchen, heart racing, lip caught between your teeth, wondering how the hell he always made you feel like this without even trying.
You lingered in the kitchen for a while after he left, pretending to scroll through your phone, half-listening to the party still pulsing through the walls. Your friends had fully disappeared into the crowd by now, probably dancing or taking shots or screaming over music. You told yourself you were just cooling off. Just getting a break from the noise. But you couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d looked at you. The way he said it—You look good tonight. Like it wasn’t up for debate. Like he meant it, and he knew you’d heard him loud and clear. Eventually, you texted some excuse about needing air, said you’d be right back if anyone even cared that you left. You slipped out of the kitchen and made your way upstairs, heartbeat loud in your ears, feeling a little ridiculous and a lot nervous. The hallway was quiet, just some closed doors and the muffled hum of bass below. You found the door to the balcony slightly cracked open, soft breeze pushing in from the night. You pushed it open gently. There he was. He sat on a low, beat-up couch tucked against the wall. One leg stretched out, the other bent, arm thrown over the backrest like he owned the space. Head tilted back just slightly, hoodie slipping off his shoulder, lips parted around the blunt as he took a slow drag. The ember glowed red in the dark, lighting up the sharp cut of his jaw, the curve of his mouth. He looked unfairly good. Like the air belonged to him. Like nothing touched him. He turned his head lazily when he heard the door, eyes finding yours through the smoke. Didn’t smile. Didn’t say anything for a second. Just looked at you, then took another slow hit, exhaling with a quiet sigh before speaking.
“Knew you’d come.” You swallowed hard, heart kicking up again like you hadn’t already spent the last fifteen minutes trying to calm it down. His voice was low, almost lazy, but there was something behind it—something that made your chest tighten a little. You stepped out and quietly shut the door behind you. You sat down beside him, slow and careful, the cushion dipping under your weight. His knee brushed yours just slightly, warm through the fabric. You glanced over, then down again, chewing the inside of your cheek. “I just—I’d rather be up here with you than down there in all that chaos.” That got him to finally look at you. Head tilted slightly, eyes narrowed just a little like he was trying to read deeper than what you were saying out loud. He didn’t answer right away. Just flicked the ash from the blunt, leaned back again, eyes still on you. You breathed in through your nose, steadying yourself. Then softer, barely louder than the wind, you added, “I missed you.” He turned his head fully now, letting the blunt rest between his fingers. The pause that followed wasn’t awkward. It was heavy. Warm. His eyes softened just a bit. “Yeah?” he said, voice a little quieter than before. “I missed you too.” It landed in your chest like a weight—like the kind of thing you weren’t sure you were allowed to want, but did anyway. He leaned in a little, not close enough to crowd you, but just enough for his knee to press softly into yours. His eyes didn’t leave your face.
“You been thinking about me?” he asked, voice still calm, but something about it made your stomach twist. You blinked. Heat rushed to your cheeks again, and you had to look away. “…Maybe.” He smiled at that, small and crooked and unfairly attractive. “Same.” And then he took another hit like he hadn’t just wrecked you with a single word. He let the silence hang for a few seconds after that, the blunt burning slow between his fingers, and then he said it quietly, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Come closer.” Your eyes flicked to his, heart stuttering a little. He didn’t look away, didn’t shift or make room, just waited. You hesitated for a second and then moved, scooting over until your leg was pressed fully against his. He reached out casually, like it was second nature, and slid his arm around your shoulders. A soft tug, and suddenly you were leaning into him, your head falling against his chest like it belonged there. You could feel everything. His warmth, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the steady thump of his heart under your cheek. His hoodie smelled like smoke and laundry and him. He brought the blunt to his lips again, took a hit, then lowered it and turned his head slightly toward you.“Want some?” he murmured. You shook your head, just once. “Not right now.” He hummed, didn’t push. Just let his hand stay where it was on your shoulder, thumb brushing idly against your arm. You didn’t say anything after that. Neither did he. You both just sat there, pressed together on the old balcony couch, the party a muffled storm below you, the stars wide and scattered above. You listened to the wind. The soft scratch of fabric when he shifted. The occasional drag and exhale as he smoked. You closed your eyes for a second and just let yourself feel all of it.
He shifted a little, moving his hand lower on your arm, caressing the skin, his breath warm against your hair. You felt his heartbeat quicken just a bit beneath your cheek. The silence between you was thick. to be noticed. You glanced up at him, your eyes catching his in the dim light. There was something softer there now. Something unspoken, but heavy. Without breaking eye contact, his hand moved to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, fingers lingering near your temple. Your breath hitched. He leaned down just a little, voice low and casual, “You’re beautiful.” You swallowed, barely able to meet his gaze as your face flushed again. Then, just like that, he closed the tiny gap between you. His lips found yours slow and gentle, before deepening the kiss, like he’d been wanting to do this all night. You melted into him, your hand slowly reaching up to rest on his chest as the world around you faded. It’s not gentle anymore, it’s urgent, needy. His hand tightens in your hair, pulling you closer as his tongue slides against yours, deep and demanding. You whimper softly, the sound lost in the press of his mouth, your body melting into his. He pulls back just enough to whisper in your ear, voice husky, “Wanna get out of here? I’ve got my car nearby.” Your heart pounds so hard you’re sure he can hear it. You just nod, swallowing the lump in your throat, breath catching again as he wraps his arm tighter around you.
He doesn’t rush you, just laces his fingers through yours, warm and firm, and gives your hand a gentle tug. You follow without thinking, legs shaky as you leave the balcony behind and slip back into the quiet hallway. The party feels distant now, like the world narrowed down to just him, the weight of his hand in yours, the aftertaste of his kiss still lingering on your lips. The walk to his car is quiet, but not awkward. When he unlocks the door and slides into the driver’s seat, you hesitate for half a second before slipping in beside him. The doors shut with a soft thud, sealing you both inside the low, warm hum of the vehicle. He leans back, legs stretched out, calm like always, but there’s a heat behind his eyes when he looks at you. A spark still flickering from earlier. “I’m gonna roll real quick,” he murmurs, pulling out his tray and grinder from the center console like it’s second nature. You nod, watching him work—his fingers nimble, methodical, the lighter’s flame briefly illuminating his face when he brings the blunt to his lips. The car fills with the earthy scent of smoke, and his head tilts back slightly as he exhales, half-lidded. He looks so fucking fine like this, bathed in shadows and smoke, hoodie loose around his collarbones, the faint red glow of the blunt lighting up his lips. Then he turns his head toward you again and you don’t even get the chance to fully catch your breath before he leans in again, free hand finding your cheek as he kisses you.
The smoke still lingers on his breath, and you melt into it, moaning softly into his mouth as his tongue slides against yours. His fingers are on your thigh, squeezing gently as he pulls you closer. The kiss turns messier, full of need, soft gasps and low groans echoing through the car. Your hand grips his hoodie low, holding on like you might fall apart if you let go. He pulls back only enough to whisper, breath ghosting over your lips, “Could do this all night.” Then his mouth is on yours again. More heat, more tongue, more breathless little noises spilling from your lips as your body starts to tremble in his hands. Without breaking the kiss, his hands move, one sliding up your thigh, the other settling on your waist. “C’mere,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice low but soft. You barely register what he means until his hands are guiding you, pulling you gently, firmly, right onto his lap. One leg at a time, knees sinking into the seat on either side of him, hands braced on his shoulders, your dress hiking up as you settle onto him, straddling him, face to face. He leans back just enough to look at you, eyes hooded, red from the weed, blunt still between his fingers. One of his hands slides up your side, fingers grazing your waist and ribs over the thin fabric of your dress. He takes his time with it, like he’s learning your shape. Your breath stutters as his hand travels higher, stopping just under your arm. He brings the blunt to his lips again, takes a long, slow hit, his chest rising beneath you, and then leans in close. His free hand curves around the back of your neck, guiding your face closer to his. You part your lips on instinct, and he exhales the smoke right into your mouth, warm and slow, curling over your tongue. Your eyes flutter shut as you breathe it in, heart thudding, and then he kisses you. Kisses you like he’s taking the air right back from your lungs.
Your breath catches when you feel his hands slide down, beneath the hem of your dress. He pushes it up slowly, bunching the fabric around your waist until the cool air hits your thighs. You shift slightly, nervous, thighs tightening around his hips as he exposes more of you. He doesn’t say anything, just stares for a second, eyes flicking down to where your panties are now visible, his palms firm on the back of your thighs. “Fuck,” he mutters, almost to himself. Then he leans forward, mouth finding your neck, and everything gets messier after that. He kisses down the side of your throat, open, warm, wet, his lips dragging along the skin, tongue flicking against your pulse point, teeth grazing just enough to make your hips twitch against him. You whimper quietly, trying to stay still, but he’s already pulling you closer with both hands, guiding your body into his like he knows exactly what you need. You tilt your head for him without thinking, shy sounds escaping your mouth as he works his way up to your jaw, then down again, kissing a little rougher now. “Weno…” you whisper, voice breaking around his name. “Shh,” he murmurs, his voice low against your skin. “You’re okay.” Your arms wrap around his shoulders instinctively, face burning as you shift in his lap, unintentionally grinding down just slightly. His reaction is immediate, a quiet groan right into your neck, his hands tightening on your hips. “Just like that,” he breathes.
Your hips grind down harder without thinking, breath coming out in shaky gasps as the friction starts to feel almost too good. His hands slip under the back of your dress, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass, guiding your movement like he needs it just as bad. You’re whimpering into the heated space between you, clinging to his hoodie, your body trembling slightly with every slow drag of your hips over his. Your panties are soaked. His pants are straining. The windows are fogging up, and the whole car smells like weed, sweat, and heat. He tilts his head, catching your mouth again in another deep, tongue-heavy kiss, like he can’t stop tasting you. His hand slides up your waist, grazing under the curve of your chest over the thin fabric of your dress, and you shudder, moaning softly into his mouth. Then he pulls back, just a little, resting his forehead against yours as both of you try to breathe. “Fuck,” he whispers, chest rising and falling beneath you. “You look so fucking pretty like this.” You blink at him, dazed, lips swollen and barely parted, still trying to catch your breath. He looks at you for a long second, hands still on your waist, grounding you. “I don’t wanna do this in the car,” he says, voice rough. “You deserve better than that.” Your breath hitches, heat flaring even higher at how serious he sounds. “Wanna go to my place?” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your side. You nod slowly, shy but needy, your fingers curling in the collar of his shirt, a little scared to let go. “Yeah,” you whisper, barely audible. “Okay.” He kisses you once more, soft and sweet, before pulling back just enough to reach for the keys.
The door shut with a quiet click, sealing you into the warmth of his place. It was dark, mostly, just the glow of a streetlamp slipping through the blinds, casting faint lines across the floor. Neither of you spoke. You turned slightly, lips parting like you might say something, but he was already reaching for you. His hands found your waist in the dark, pulling you in with no hesitation, and his mouth was on yours before you could even breathe. Kissing you hungrily, deep and needy. Everything he hadn’t said tonight was pouring out of him all at once, into the way he held you, the way his lips moved over yours. His grip was firm, hands splayed over your hips, your back arching into him as you kissed him back just as desperately. He walked you backwards without breaking the kiss, slow, steady steps through the short hallway, lips never leaving yours. You barely registered the corners of the space or how you ended up where you did until the back of your knees hit something soft. And then he was lowering you onto the bed. The mattress dipped beneath you, and your breath caught as he hovered above you, eyes dark and steady on yours. Then, without a word, he zipped down his hoodie and took it off. Now just in a white tank, it clung to his frame in all the right places, the cut of his collarbone visible, shoulders broad and sharp under the light. He looked down at you for a second longer, breathing hard, gaze lingering on your face like he couldn’t believe you were really there. Then he leaned down, kissing you again, less rushed, but just as intense. His hands slid up your sides, fingertips ghosting over the fabric of your dress, moving deliberately, memorizing the shape of you. You whimpered softly into his mouth, fingers curling in the hem of his shirt. He pulled back for a second, eyes flicking between yours, voice low and wrecked. “You good?” he asked, forehead brushing yours. You nodded, cheeks burning, lips swollen already. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m good.”
He didn’t wait long after your answer. His mouth moved to your neck, warm and open, lips brushing your skin before he started kissing, slow, deliberate, dragging his tongue gently along the curve of your throat. You gasped, breath hitching as he sucked softly at a spot just below your jaw. Then again, a little lower. Your hips twitched beneath him when you felt his teeth graze you. “Weno—” you whispered, but it came out as more of a breath than a word. “You’re so pretty” he murmured, voice barely there, like he was talking to himself. “Always are.” His hand moved down slowly, slipping over your waist and along the outside of your thigh before sliding back up under the hem of your dress. His touch was patient, teasing, he didn’t rush. Just let his fingertips brush along the top of your thigh, higher and higher until they were tracing the edge of your panties. He pushed the fabric of your underwear to the side, slowly, and let his fingers slide between your folds, touching your bare heat. You gasped, head tilting back into the pillow, lips parting in a silent moan. “Shit,” he whispered, breath warm against your collarbone. “So soaked f’me, baby.” Your cheeks burned, thighs tensing slightly around his hand. He kissed the hollow of your throat, then lower, just above your chest, tongue wet and warm as his fingers began to move—slow circles at first, barely-there pressure that made you squirm beneath him. His free hand gripped your waist, holding you steady like he could feel how close you already were, how much you wanted him. “You’re so sensitive,” he muttered, voice deep and low, teeth grazing your skin as he kissed up to your ear.
You whimpered his name, hips grinding into his hand without meaning to. His fingers never stopped moving, dragging slick circles against your clit as he kept his mouth on your neck. Every kiss felt more urgent, but not rushed. It wasn’t just lust. It was something else. Something heavier. And then he leaned up, lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice barely above a whisper. “I think about you all the time,” he murmured, breath warm, fingers still teasing between your thighs. “Even when I’m not supposed to. Even when I try not to.” Your heart flipped, aching at how raw it sounded coming from him. “I don’t even think you know what you do to me,” he continued, a soft kiss behind your ear. “How long I’ve wanted you like this. Letting me touch you.” The words hit harder than anything else had—deeper than the kisses, deeper than his touch. Your chest tightened, eyes fluttering shut as your fingers slid into his hair, pulling him down until your lips met again. Your moans melted into his mouth, the rhythm of his fingers picking up as your hips rolled up into his hand. His other hand gripped your thigh, spreading you wider for him.
And then, without warning, he shifted his hand lower, deeper. Your lips parted in a quiet gasp as he slid one finger inside you, slow and careful. Your walls clenched around the intrusion, already aching from how worked up you were, how long he’d been teasing. He didn’t wait long before easing in a second finger, stretching you just a little more. His movements were smooth, curling them up inside you just right, drawing out whiny, breathless little sounds from your throat you couldn’t hold back. You buried your face in his shoulder, hands gripping his bicep, your hips rocking involuntarily into every slow thrust of his fingers. He moved deep and steady, his palm pressing into you, thumb dragging lazy circles over your clit in rhythm. He kept moving inside you, slow and deep, curling just right. You were so close, the tension winding tighter and tighter in your stomach, breath catching with every stroke. But just as your legs began to shake, just as your hips bucked up into his hand with a quiet, desperate moan—he pulled out. You whined at the loss, hips stuttering forward instinctively, chasing the friction. “Weno…” “I know,” he murmured, breathless himself, voice thick with need. “I know, baby.” He leaned back just enough to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere to the side. The soft light coming through the cracked door hit his chest just right—shoulders broad, abs toned, skin flushed and warm. His chain shifted against his skin when he moved.
Then he was reaching for you again, hands gentle. “Can I?” he asked, fingers brushing the hem of your dress. You nodded, cheeks hot, eyes wide and dazed. “Y-Yeah” He pulled it up slowly, lifting it over your head. His eyes dropped to your body as it was revealed to him—bare chest, soft skin, rising and falling with every shaky breath. He leaned his mouth to your nipple, giving it a soft suck while sliding your panties down your legs, dragging his hands along your thighs as he did. Then he moved lower. He settled between your legs like he belonged there, hands spreading your thighs gently, thumbs brushing along the inside. You whimpered, body already arching at the sight of him down there, the feel of his breath ghosting over your skin. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he muttered, more to himself than anything, eyes locked on your soaked center. And then he leaned in. His tongue was warm, slow, one long, deliberate lick up your folds that made your back arch off the bed. Then again, this time with more pressure, more intent. His mouth locked over your clit, sucking softly before he flattened his tongue and circled it. You gasped, hands flying to his hair, fingers tangling as your thighs tried to close around his head. He just groaned into you, gripping your hips and pulling you closer, keeping you wide open for him. The sounds—wet, messy, sinful—filled the room along with your breathy moans, soft whimpers, the quiet creak of the mattress beneath you.
He didn’t stop. His tongue moved with purpose, lapping, circling, flicking. You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything but moan, soft and desperate, your hips twitching with every stroke of his tongue. And then you felt his hand again. Sliding up the inside of your thigh, fingers trailing through your slick folds before one dipped inside you, curling instantly. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry. He added a second immediately, stretching you and pumping into you while his mouth never left your clit. “Weno—fuck,” you whimpered, body jolting as he curled his fingers just right. Your walls clenched around him, needy and tight. His groan vibrated through you when he felt it. His tongue pressed harder, fingers pumping deep and slow—each drag of his knuckles making your toes curl. Your moans got higher, breathier, as your body trembled under his touch. “You close, baby?” he muttered against your clit, fingers never slowing. “Wanna feel you cum on my fuckin’ fingers.” You nodded, frantic, too far gone to speak. Your back arched, thighs shaking as he held you open, ruined you with his mouth, pushed his fingers deep inside you until the heat building in your stomach finally snapped. You came hard, legs trembling, hips stuttering, a loud moan spilling from your lips as everything clenched and pulsed around him. Fingers still working you gently through it while his tongue slowed, easing the intensity but never leaving you empty. Weno pressed one last kiss to your thigh, lips lingering as he pulled his fingers from you slowly, savoring the way your body jolted at the loss. He sat back on his heels, chest rising and falling a little faster now, eyes heavy as they dragged up your body.
You watched, dazed, flushed, and breathless as he reached for the waistband of his cargos, unbuttoning and sliding them down. They hit the floor with a quiet thud, leaving him in just his boxers—black, stretched tight over the obvious bulge straining against the fabric. He palmed it slowly, eyes still fixed on you, thumb pressing down over the thick outline like it ached. You squirmed beneath him, breath catching again when he leaned forward, caging you in with his arms. He kissed you slow and deep, tongue sliding over yours, moaning into your mouth. Then he reached between you and pushed his boxers down just enough to free himself, hissing softly when his length sprang free and brushed against your thigh. “You still good?” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours, his thumb caressing your cheek. You nodded, voice caught in your throat. “Yeah… I want you.” That was all he needed. He reached down, guiding himself to your entrance, dragging the tip through your slick folds, teasing you both with the heat of it. His hand found your waist again, grounding you as he pushed in slowly—inch by inch, thick and hot and stretching you just right. You gasped, nails digging into his biceps, body arching as he filled you completely.“Fuck,” he breathed out against your mouth, kissing you again as he bottomed out. “So tight. So good.” He didn’t move right away. Just stayed there, buried deep, letting you adjust while he pressed soft kisses to your jaw, your cheek, your lips. His hands smoothed over your sides, grounding you. And then he started to move.
He started slow and deep, rolling thrusts that dragged every inch of him along your walls. Your body clung to him, welcoming each stroke like it had been waiting, aching, for this exact moment. His hands moved down your sides, palms warm and firm, before sliding under your thighs to hitch your legs higher around his waist. The new angle made you gasp, your head falling back into the pillow as he sank even deeper. “That’s it,” he whispered, voice all breath and gravel, “So fucking perfect like this.” You whimpered, lips parting with every slow rock of his hips, every soft press of his chest to yours. One of his hands slipped under your back, pulling you closer, the other traveling to cup your breast, squeezing gently, thumb circling your nipple. “Love your body,” he murmured against your skin, lips brushing your collarbone. “Every inch. All mine now, yeah?” You could only nod, breath shaky, heart pounding. He moved again—long, deep thrusts that made your thighs tremble around him, that had you clinging tighter to his shoulders, trying to ground yourself in his touch. “So fuckin’ good,” he groaned, kissing your neck, “Fuck—look at how you take me.” He slid his hand down to your ass, gripping it tightly, pulling you up into each thrust, letting you feel just how hard he was holding back. You cried out softly, tears blurring your vision as the heat coiled tighter and tighter inside you. You felt stretched, full…loved. Every part of him was on you, in you, his lips, his hands, his voice. He slowed for just a second, chest heaving as he looked down at you.
His hand cradled your jaw, thumb brushing your lip as he whispered, “No one’s ever made me feel like this.” You blinked, another tear slipping free. He caught it with a kiss. He pushed in deep again, groaning low as your body clenched around him. Your eyes fluttered shut as your lips parted in a sob, overwhelmed. The pleasure, the emotion—it was too much, and not enough. You gasped out his name, voice broken, tears spilling freely now. “You’re doin’ so good,” he breathed, kissing the corner of your mouth. “So good for me. You feel so fuckin’ good—can’t get enough of you, baby.” He cupped your breast again, his other hand squeezing your ass as he rocked deeper, firmer, filling you completely with every thrust. The mattress creaked beneath you, skin slapping, breathy moans and whimpers. He lift your legs higher, folding them up toward your chest as his hands slid beneath your knees, guiding you open. His body shifted with yours, hovering close, his chest pressing to yours as he settled into the new position. You were utterly vulnerable, and so full. “Fuck,” he breathed as he pushed back in—deeper, impossibly deep, the new angle hitting something inside you that made your mouth fall open in a silent gasp. Your thighs trembled against his sides, your arms wrapping tight around his shoulders as he rocked into you again, slow and hard. His face was right above yours, eyes dark, mouth parted, breath hot on your cheek. His forehead pressed to yours. You pulled him down, fingers tangling in his hair, and kissed him hard, messy, open-mouthed, desperate. You sobbed into the kiss, the pleasure blurring everything, making your whole body feel like it was about to break apart in the best way.
He moaned against your mouth, thrusts picking up just slightly, deeper and deeper, hips pressing you into the mattress. One of his hands cradled your cheek as the other gripped under your thigh, holding you open for him while his body kept driving into yours, filling you perfectly. “You feel like heaven,” he whispered, kissing along your jaw between gasps. “So good for me, baby… fuck.” Your body clenched tight around him, your moans turning into cries as your nails dug into his back. “Weno— I’m close, I—please,” you gasped, barely able to form the words through the sobs that kept catching in your throat. “I got you,” he panted, hips grinding down, pace relentless now. “Cum for me, baby. Wanna feel you.” It only took another stroke. One more hit just right, and you shattered. Your second orgasm came, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your back arched, tears slipping down your cheeks as you sobbed his name, legs shaking violently around him. You clung to him like he was the only thing tethering you to earth. “Shit—baby—fuck—” he groaned, eyes squeezing shut as your body pulsed around him. “So good. So fucking good.” He barely lasted another few thrusts before he was pulling out quickly, stroking himself through the last moments, his body jerking forward with a final moan as he spilled across your stomach, thick and warm. He collapsed onto his forearms above you, forehead to yours again, breath ragged, lips ghosting yours.
He was still above you, body trembling slightly as he caught his breath, his lips brushing yours in soft, lingering kisses that felt more like confessions than touches. You were trying to breathe too, heart racing, chest rising and falling as your mind spun. Every nerve in your body was still alive, aching with how full he made you feel—physically, emotionally, all of it. And yet, even in the quiet after, something heavy sat in your chest. You swallowed hard, fingers fidgeting at his sides, your eyes darting everywhere but his face. You could feel it pressing against your tongue—those words—so big and so terrifying, but so real. Too real to keep inside. “Weno…?” you whispered, voice barely audible. He blinked down at you, soft and hazy from the afterglow. “Yeah, baby?” Your lip trembled as you looked up at him, wide-eyed and afraid. “I… I think I’m in love with you.” The second the words left your mouth, your stomach dropped. You felt exposed, like you’d stripped yourself bare in a whole new way. Your eyes filled with panic—what if he didn’t feel the same? What if this ruined everything? “I—I’m sorry,” you added quickly, voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to ruin it, I just—fuck, I don’t know, I just feel so much and I couldn’t keep it in and—” He cut you off with a kiss. Not a soft one, not a careful one, but deep, sure. His hand cupped your face as he leaned into you, kissing you like he needed to feel every word you’d just said on his tongue.
When he finally pulled back, his thumb brushed beneath your eye, catching the little tear that had escaped down your cheek. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he whispered. “You could never ruin anything.” Your heart fluttered painfully. “I’ve been in love with you,” he said, voice a little hoarse. “Since before I even knew what to call it. You don’t scare me, baby. You’re the only thing that’s ever made sense.” He kissed you again, tender. His hands wrapped around you, pulling you close until your body was pressed to his, skin to skin, and you could barely breathe from how tight he held you. You buried your face in his neck, arms tucked between your chests, your heart pounding against his. The silence that followed was heavy with warmth—safe, soft. Eventually, he shifted just enough to reach for the blunt on his nightstand, lighting it with a quiet flick of his lighter. The glow lit up his face in soft orange as he took a long drag, exhaling with a sigh, head tilted back slightly. You curled into him, cheek pressed to his chest, ear catching the steady thrum of his heartbeat. His arm came around you instinctively, holding you tighter, and his hand drifted lazily into your hair, fingers combing through the strands. You didn’t speak. You didn’t have to. He held you like he was never letting go.
summary: the sequel to sweet dreams, in which you fulfill Jaehyun’s dream
words: 1,538
pairing: Jaehyun x Reader
“In my dream you were the one fucking me.”
A week later and Jaehyun’s words from that morning still echo in your head, haunting you. Every time you look at your boyfriend you imagine what his dream must have been like. You wonder if he imagined you with a strap on, fucking him like he fucks you. Did he dream you with a real cock, filling him with your load? Or did he mean in a less literal sense, like you fucked him with your fingers or something less major than a realistic cock.
You wish you would have asked him those things, but that morning he fell back asleep, and you hadn’t found the proper opportunity to bring it back up.
It’s two weeks after that morning the next time Jaehyun wakes you up because he’s horny. His lips are hot on your shoulder, his breath panting against your skin, and he’s already moaning.
“Jaehyun?” Your voice is drenched with sleep and confusion.
“I had that dream again, Y/N.” He grunts and you sit up a little bit, looking down at your boyfriend’s body. He’s curling in on himself, his erection tenting the sheet over his hips, and his hands are busy under there.
Gently you curl your fingers around the sheet and pull it back from his body.
Jaehyun groans at even that light friction over his erection and the cool air on his skin. You gasp at the sight of his fingers pumping between his legs, stretching himself open as if his fingers could satisfy him like you had in his dream.
“Babe, please.” He pushes down on his fingers, and his eyes catch on yours. “I have— I bought a toy. I’ve been meaning to ask you, but please it’s in the drawer.”
You lean down and kiss him on the lips, press you hand against his chest over his heart. His heart is racing, and you smile. “I’ll take good care of you, baby.”
Jaehyun lets out a whiny moan. His eyes follow you as you climb over him to get off the bed and dig through the drawer of his bedside table. Your hands shake a little as you pull out the strap-on in its packaging. It’s exactly the one you’ve been imagining in your head the past few days.
You quickly open it up and take it in your hands. It’s not too big, probably the perfect size for Jaehyun’s first time. It’s about six inches long, about as wide around as his own cock, and a similar color. A second cock is on the bottom section of the harness, meant to slide inside of you while you fuck him.
He whimpers when you hold it up in front of you just to see how it would look. His cock twitches against his belly, leaving a wet streak behind.
“You really want me to fuck you, huh?” You laugh and slowly strap it on, enjoying the way it feels to have the dildo slide easily inside of you and a penis hanging between your legs, slightly uncomfortable and unusual, but what you’re about to do is a thrill that nothing could dampen.
Jaehyun takes his fingers out of his hole, and you carefully maneuver back onto the bed between his knees, feeling the dildo inside of you pushing against your walls.
“Y/N,” He shivers while looking up at you above him, your fake cock bobbing in front of you. “Can you, just…”
He stutters over the words and you know that he’s nervous even though he wanted this. That he wants to ask you to be careful with him.
“I’ll take good care of you.” You tell him again, laying your hand flat on his chest and leaning forward to kiss him. You could almost ignore the press of the dildo inside of you, but it presses against your G spot, and you moan as your lips meet his.
Jaehyun opens his mouth to your kiss, bends his legs up on either side of your hips, and just shrinks into the pillows and lets you kiss him.
He’s soft and pliable, shivering as you move your hand from his chest to his stomach, light and teasing. Jaehyun makes a simple noise, rolls his head back to break the kiss, and pushes his hips up against your belly. You kiss Jaehyun’s chest, tease your tongue over one of his nipples, and then while you’ve got him distracted, your fingers brush against his moist hole.
His hips jolt up. He bites his bottom lip and grabs hold of your wrist.
Your fingers slide easily inside of him. “Are you ready for me? How long did you touch yourself before you woke me?”
He already feels quite stretched around your fingers, and his cheeks and ears are flushed a pretty shade of pink.
“You looked so cute. I didn’t want to wake you up.” He shifts when you crook your fingers, dragging them over his insides. His breath hitches, and he manages a smile. “But after a while I thought, what’s the point in stealing this time, touching myself while she’s here beside me when I could live out my dream in real time.”
“Are you ready for that?” You pull your fingers out, just lightly stroke them over his hole. Your strap on angles down toward where he clenches around nothing, and you push forward just enough that he can feel you there without you slipping inside.
“Yes. I want you to fuck me, babe.”
You don’t wait. You put your hand on your cock and push into him, watching the length disappear slowly inside of him. You stop when you feel resistance, and you put your hand on Jaehyun’s thigh, squeezing lightly and rubbing your thumb in circles. “Relax for me. You’re doing so well, Jae.”
He sucks in a deep breath, pushes it out, and repeats. You wonder if you were like this your first time, but you can’t remember. Jaehyun reaches for your hands then, and you give them over.
Your fingers lace through his, and Jaehyun holds your hands halfway between you. You press your hands against his, use them as leverage when you push your hips forward the rest of the way.
Jaehyun’s cock jerks on his stomach, and he drops your hands down to his belly as he squeezes his eyes shut and moans lowly.
“Look at you taking me in, Jaehyun.” You pull your hips back shortly and thrust back in. The dildo inside of you shifts, and you clench around it, but you’re more determined to give Jaehyun pleasure than you are in chasing your own.
He lifts his hips to meet your thrust, and the sight is beautiful, the way he stretches around you, pretty and soft. “You’re taking my whole cock, baby. Like you’re needy for it, like you want me to be rough on you. Do you want me to be rougher?”
Jaehyun nods, and he loosens his grip on your hands, letting go completely in favor of touching his chest.
You spread your legs a bit, sinking down in a way that reminds you that you’re filled with a dildo, and you can’t help but fuck yourself down onto it, which causes you to thrust upward at a new angle inside of Jaehyun. You deliberately push down on your dildo while pushing the other inside of Jaehyun at a faster pace.
The clap your bodies make as you push in and out of him, his moans, and your own barely contained noises are loud in the otherwise quiet of your home.
His cock bounces with each thrust. Jaehyun pinches at his own nipples, playing with them and watching you enjoy the double pleasure you’re getting.
“Are— Are you pretending that’s my cock inside of you?” He asks through gritted teeth. “Imagine us fucking each other at the same time. I love having you inside of me. God, why haven’t we done this before?”
You don’t say anything, just bend forward so you can fuck into him while fucking back on the dildo at the same time. You hold yourself up with one arm, the other busy taking hold of Jaehyun’s cock, jerking him off in time with each of your thrusts.
His moans grow in volume and pitch and frequency. You focus your attention around the head of his cock, and Jaehyun writhes under you, pushing into your touch and down on your cock, arching his back and crying out your name.
There’s no warning before he cums, bursts of cum leave him, striping up his belly and chest, bubbling out of his tip as you continue stroking him. He babbles your name and other words that you can’t decipher, and you don’t stop thrusting into him because now that you’ve made him cum, you focus on your own orgasm.
But each time you drop your hips, grinding down on your dildo, the toy inside of Jaehyun shifts and rubs against his prostate. Already sensitive from his orgasm, and unused to the pleasure of prostate stimulation, Jaehyun races you to the next orgasm.
You can’t help wondering, much like Jaehyun did, why you’ve not done this before. You like the power of dominating him, giving him an orgasm this way. And he chose the perfect toy, one that will give you both satisfaction at the same time.
You ride it harder, faster, trying to get it to be just enough to make you cum.
Jaehyun cums again with your cock inside of him, and watching your boyfriend come absolutely undone beneath you is enough to finally push you over the edge.
You cry out and drop your head back, hands on your chest, and hips involuntarily bucking down on your dildo. You squeeze around it until your orgasm fades, and you back off of Jaehyun, your fake cock popping free of his hole at last.
You don’t have the energy to release yourself from the harness, so you just lay down and curl against his side, the toy laying against his hip.
“Was that good, Jaehyun?” You kiss his chest and look up at him through your eyelashes. “Did I live up to your dream?”
He smiles, all squishy pink cheeks. His voice slurs a little as he says, “You did amazing. Never felt so good.” He nuzzles against the top of your head. One of his hands touches your dildo lightly, and he caresses it, fondles it and licks his lips. “Best wake up call though, right?”
You push your head against his chest. “It was. But if you keep waking me up and then exhausting me, I’ll have to kill you.”
Jaehyun laughs. “Fair enough.”
request: BITCH U BETTER WRITE WHAT HAPPENED IN JAEHYUNS DREAM AJDJKAKSKSJSJ
it starts with whispers. nothing concrete, just hints scattered in the air like cigarette smoke curling in the hallways after late-night classes. you hear about him before you meet him: jung jaehyun, the youngest literature professor in the department, rumored to have a sharp tongue and a reputation for unraveling students’ egos in seminar discussions. not in the humiliating, arrogant way—he’s too controlled for that. he dismantles arguments with precision, makes you feel the cracks in your logic as if he’s pressing his hands to them. but what everyone talks about isn’t just his intellect. it’s the way he looks, the way he moves—how he reads a passage from paradise lost like he’s seducing the room.
you sign up for his seminar on a whim, telling yourself it’s because you like the syllabus—something about desire and morality in 18th-century literature. it’s a lie, of course. you know exactly why. you’ve seen him once before, walking across campus with a leather-bound notebook tucked under his arm, his fitted dress shirt pulling taut against his shoulders. you’d been curious then. intrigued. and now, sitting in the second row of his seminar, you realize curiosity was too soft a word for what you feel.
the first few weeks are uneventful. he’s strict, dismissive of lazy interpretations, and ruthless about deadlines. when he speaks, it’s with a deliberate cadence, like every word has been measured for weight. he doesn’t look at you—not specifically—but you feel his presence like a charged wire running under the surface of the classroom. and then it happens: he catches you staring during a lecture, his eyes lingering just a moment too long. it’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but enough to send a rush of heat straight to your stomach.
you don’t mean to push. it starts small—comments in class designed to catch his attention, emails phrased too carefully to be casual. he doesn’t bite, not at first, but there’s a flicker in his gaze every time you speak, a slight pause before he responds. it’s like you’re testing a boundary you’re not even sure exists, prodding the edges of something unspoken.
it shifts one evening during office hours. you come in with a question about your essay, and he barely glances up from his desk, motioning for you to sit. the room smells like old books and his cologne, something warm and musky that sticks to your clothes even after you leave. as you talk, his gaze sharpens, not in the way it does when he’s dissecting someone’s argument, but like he’s reading you, peeling back the layers of what you’re really asking. you stumble over your words, and his mouth twitches—not quite a smile, more like he knows something you don’t.
“you’re distracted,” he says finally, leaning back in his chair. his tone is measured, neutral, but there’s an undertone that makes your stomach tighten.
you make some excuse about being tired, about the pressure of keeping up with his class. he doesn’t buy it. instead, he stands, moving around the desk to lean against it, arms crossed. he’s closer now, the sharp line of his jaw more prominent under the low light of the desk lamp.
“you’re a good writer,” he says, and it’s the first compliment he’s ever given you. “but you hold back. afraid of pushing too far, maybe.”
the air between you stretches thin. you don’t trust yourself to speak, so you just nod, your throat dry. his eyes drop to your lips for a fraction of a second, and you know you didn’t imagine it this time.
“i think you know how to take risks,” he continues, his voice lower now, almost a murmur. “you just need the right… incentive.”
it’s not an invitation, not yet, but it plants something in you, something dark and electric. you leave his office flushed, your skin buzzing with the memory of his voice, of the way his eyes lingered just a little too long.
you start to write differently after that. your essays become sharper, more provocative, laced with a kind of defiance you didn’t know you had. when he reads them in class, his comments are laced with a subtle edge, like he’s speaking to you and no one else. it’s maddening, intoxicating. every interaction feels like a game you’re not entirely sure how to play but can’t seem to stop.
the break happens late one evening when you show up to his office after hours, the building nearly empty. you tell yourself it’s about your paper, about some question you need answered, but you know better. and so does he. when he opens the door, his tie is loosened, his sleeves rolled up, and there’s a glint in his eye that makes your breath hitch.
“this is inappropriate,” he says, but his voice is thin, stretched too tight. the way his eyes linger on your lips betrays him. he steps aside, letting you in, the door clicking shut behind you like a trigger. the space shrinks, the air heavy, pressing down on your chest.
you’re not sure who moves first. it’s a blur of tension snapping, his hands grabbing your hips, your body colliding with his desk as his mouth crashes into yours. the kiss is bruising, all heat and hunger, the faint taste of coffee and mint on his tongue. your back arches into him as his hands slide up your thighs, rough and impatient, pulling your skirt higher.
“do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” he growls against your lips, his cock already hard and pressing against your stomach. his hands are rough on your ass, pulling you closer, making you feel every inch of his need as he bites down on your neck. “every fucking time you walk into my class with those tight little skirts, pretending you don’t know what you’re doing—this is what you’ve been asking for, isn’t it?”
“yes, sir,” you whimper, breathless, gripping his shoulders. “please, i’ll be good. i’ll do anything.”
his eyes darken, and before you can say more, he grabs your hips, spinning you around and slamming you against the desk. the edge digs into your thighs as he presses you flat against it, his body caging yours. “anything?” he repeats, his voice dripping with dominance. “then stop pretending to be so fucking innocent and take it like you’ve been begging for.”
his hands yank your blouse open, buttons scattering across the floor as he pulls down your bra, exposing your breasts to the cool air. his mouth is on you instantly, sucking and biting at your nipples, his teeth scraping just enough to make you gasp. his hands slide up your thighs, bunching your skirt around your hips. when his fingers find your pussy, he groans, deep and guttural.
“you’re soaked,” he mutters, pushing two fingers inside you, slow but deliberate. “all semester, acting so innocent, sitting in my class with this pussy dripping and waiting for me.”
“i—i couldn’t help it,” you stammer, your voice high-pitched and needy as his fingers curl inside you. “you’re so hot, professor. i just want to be your favorite.”
he lets out a low, dark laugh, pulling his fingers out and grabbing your hips to flip you over, slamming you down against the desk. “oh, you’re my favorite,” he growls, his voice dripping with heat as he unbuckles his belt, the metal clinking sharp in the silence. “and i’m going to fuck you like it—fill this pussy so good you’ll never want anything else.”
the clink of his belt barely registers before he pulls his cock free, thick and leaking, the sight alone making you clench. he lines up and thrusts into you in one brutal motion, his cock stretching you so perfectly it steals the air from your lungs.
“fuck,” he groans, his grip on your hips bruising as he sets a punishing rhythm, driving into you so hard the desk shakes beneath you. “you feel that? this is what happens to little sluts who tease me all semester.”
“yes, sir,” you moan, your nails dragging against the desk as he pounds into you, each thrust stealing the breath from your lungs. “mmm—fuck—your cock’s so good, professor. i’ll be so good for you—promise.”
“you better be,” he growls, leaning over you, his teeth grazing your ear. “because this pussy is mine now. no one else gets to touch it.”
his hand slides between your legs, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing in tight, merciless circles that make your body shake. “come on,” he growls, slamming into you harder. “take it. take every inch like a good girl.”
your walls clench around him as the pressure builds, your cries turning into screams as pleasure crashes through you, leaving you shaking beneath him. his thrusts grow erratic, his grip tightening as he buries himself deep, his cock twitching as he spills inside you with a guttural groan.
he stays there for a moment, his cock still throbbing inside you, his breath hot against your ear. “look at you,” he murmurs, almost mockingly. “all fucked out and stupid for me. maybe now you’ll learn how to behave in my class.”
but as his lips brush against your ear, there’s no mistaking the hunger still burning in his voice. you both know this isn’t over.
⢷⠀Avisos: MDNI, Yuta namoradinho que curte um 69, sexo oral e masturbação (em ambos, obviamente), palavras de baixo calão.
⢷⠀Notas: Acho que alguém aqui já chegou a me pedir pra escrever com o Yuta, mas não tenho certeza mais. De qualquer maneira, aqui está! Espero que gostem <3
A atmosfera do quarto parecia esquentar de forma quase sufocante, seu corpo, ainda em brasa, pulsava com o resquício do prazer que a consumia. Os movimentos se tornavam mais lentos, o peso da exaustão misturava-se à memória do orgasmo recém atingido. Apesar da fraqueza crescente, cada fibra de sua pele parecia viva, receptiva, ansiosa pelo próximo arrepio que se aproximava com a promessa de um prazer ainda mais intenso.
— Yuta... — Você geme com a voz falha, chamando por aquele abaixo de si que chupava sua intimidade com prontidão e agilidade.
— Yuta-ah! — O homem a imita em zombaria enquanto um pequeno sorriso surge em seus lábios. — Cansadinha já, meu amor? — Ele questiona, reforçando seu deboche. A língua masculina estala ao passear por toda sua fenda lambuzada. — Quero você gozando no meu rosto só mais uma vezinha... Consegue fazer isso por mim, não é? — Nakamoto provoca, usando do seu falso tom de inocência.
— Você é insaciável. — Você comenta, revidando a provocação e logo sentindo o riso abafado em sua intimidade mais uma vez.
Você estava a par do quanto seu namorado era caidinho por um 69, o quanto ele gostava de a sentir brincando com o pau dele enquanto o mesmo enterrava o rosto em sua bucetinha carente. E assim sucedia, você recebendo os toques voluptuosos de Yuta em sua intimidade ao mesmo passo em que você também satisfazia Nakamoto. Yuta a manobrava com maestria, fosse mesmo com a boca, saboreando seu gosto viciante, ou com os dedos, tocando por caminhos onde ele já conhecia muito bem.
Sua atenção volta ao membro ereto em sua mão, seu polegar rodeia a ponta avermelhada e espalha por todo o restante da base o resíduo viscoso que se acumulava por ali. Sua boca entra em contato com o pau de Yuta novamente, sugando devagar, mas com precisão, a pele sensível dali. Sua bucetinha vibra com o gemido do mesmo após seu ato. Yuta espalma as mãos sobre sua bunda após desferir um tapa estalado e grosseiro no local em questão, você suspira alto quando sente ele serpenteando os braços ao redor de suas coxas, a puxando para mais perto, trazendo sua intimidade para ainda mais próximo do próprio rosto.
A língua quente imerge em sua entrada, o lábio inferior do japonês pressiona seu clitóris sensível, ocasionando em sua rápida reação de apertar com ainda mais firmeza os dedos ao redor do pau gordo de Nakamoto. O vai-e-vem de sua mão toma mais velocidade, sua língua tortura a ponta sensibilizada com lentidão.
Yuta geme arrastado, chamando seu nome de forma falha enquanto te alerta, ele grunhe de prazer, os impulsos curtos e involuntários o tomam. O primeiro jato quente de esperma é liberado, preenchendo sua boca, que agora estava levando o pau pesado para ainda mais adentro. Ele aperta seu corpo com força até que a sensação de êxtase o sucumba, o corpo de Yuta libera ainda mais espasmos à medida que sua porra espessa escorre por seus dedos que logo afrouxam o toque sobre ele.
Você sente a respiração pesada de seu namorado, quente e irregular, atingindo sua buceta, que permanece logo acima de seu rosto. Seus beijos, suaves e carinhosos, percorrem as coxas e região, enquanto dedica atenção especial à borboleta tatuada no quadril. Uma leve camada de suor começa a se formar sobre a pele masculina, o corpo de Yuta estremece levemente a cada toque de seus lábios. Ele murmura manhoso, acariciando suas pernas com ternura.
— Já 'tá cansadinho, amor? — Você desliza seu corpo de cima do dele e se posiciona ao seu lado, ficando cara a cara com Yuta, retribuindo sua provocação com um sorriso divertido, lembrando o comentário irônico que ele fez para você anteriormente. Ele solta uma risada baixa diante da troca de provocações, e, com um movimento firme, usa o suficiente de força para deitar suas costas sobre a cama, agora se posicionado acima de você, a milímetros do seu rosto.
— Nenhum pouco. — Um sorriso malicioso aparece nos lábios de Yuta. — Isso foi só o aquecimento. Agora... prefere levar de quatro ou quicar no meu colinho, uh?
⠀
Gostou? Dá uma forcinha aí! Uma curtida, um reblog ou um comentário são mais do que suficientes para eu saber que você se agradou com meu conteúdo :)
Thinking about best!friend!Haechan who had enough from ur teasing, u wanna test his limits? Ohhh u r not ready for what's about to happen
Best!friend!Haechan who tries his best to not run to ur house and fuck u senseless after sending him again a nude waiting for him to see it first before u delete it and only wasting a "sorry not for u" when it was clearly for him, cause who tf does the same mistake every day?
Best!friend!Haechan who suddenly grabbed u by the hair and forced u on yr knees after u so accidentally rubbed ur feet on his crotch, his other hand gripping ur jaw making u look at him before he spits on ur face making u gasp from shock and that only earning u a chuckle from him "what? U r surprised? Isn't that how u want to be treated?" He mocks his hand letting go of ur jaw,.resting comfortably next to him
Best!friend!Heachan who hold ur head and stuffed his cock deep down ur throat, making u choke, ignoring ur hands that r tapping his thighs eagerly when u felt short of breath, waiting until a few seconds passed by to free ur throat giving u no time to catch ur breath before burrying his cock on ur throat again.
Best!friend!Haechan who smirked down at u after seeing how messed up ur make up has become, ur face glistening with a mix of his precum and saliva, mascara smeared down on ur cheeks, god he loves that so much, it's better than any of his imaginations, he watched as ur eyes rolled back holding for dear life on his shoulders as u ride his thigh, squirming around when he held u down even after ur orgasm, so sensitive but that's what u deserve for what u did. Best friend Heachan who bend u on the same table u were just having a diner at, pressing ur face on the cold surface, his cock stretching u out so deliciously "u've been playing all- fuck sort of games god to have this dick" he paused groaning at how ur walls sucked him in tightly "fuckk, now take it" he started picking up his pace, pounding u so hard that u saw stars, ur mouth mumbling incoherent words, whimpering, moaning, not sure what to do with urself as he kept hitting ur g spot.
Best!friend!Haechan who puts ur hands behind ur back and let go of ur hips using ur arms as he thrust so deep into u, making u moan so loudly that u couldn't believe it was coming out of u, feeling his dick hit that spot every time he pushed back inside of u, tears streaming down on yr face when he whispered in yr ears "you love being a slut for me don't you?"
Best!friend!Haechan who didn't stop even after cumming twice, not even when ur voice was gone from moaning too loud, he fucked u like his life depended on it, his hand moving from ur hips to ur throat, wrapping it around ur neck as he pulled you back on his lap, the position making it possible for him to fuck u even deeper, his lips kissing the side of ur neck as he fucked into you.
Best!friend!Haechan who finally let ur wrists go only for him to wrap both of his hands around ur throat as u came again, clenching around his cock and that was it, he filled u up, his cum overflowing ur insides and spilling out of u, your mind was so hazy and unfocused, u could barely register him asking if u could feel him.
Best!friend!Haechan who put ur clothes back on, cleaning his cum off of ur thighs and carrying you back home, he didn't leave after making sure u were okay, he stayed and watched a movie with u and when he was leaving, he kissed u softly and promised to come back again, that was the night that made u realize you have fallen for him.
badboy!yuta would definitely have a thing for you wearing innocent looking panties. He'd buy you all kinds, some with lace and frills that enticingly trace out the shape of your thighs and the curve of your hips, some with bright colors and patterns that stand out on your skin. He loves seeing you in the cutesy panties he buys, taking plenty of pictures to keep for his own collection. He loves how you look in them, how coquettish innocence merges with such seductive charm to make you look so incredibly appealing, edible even. His dick throbs at the sight alone, and when you play into the innocent game you both like to play, he's all but cumming right on the spot from the eroticism of it all.
But his favorite thing about them, by far, is rubbing your pussy with his cock while you have them on. It becomes something of a past time for him, holding your thighs while he thrusts between your legs against the cloth of your panties, taking in the sight of you squirming beneath him.
When the pleasure begins to build, when the arousal becomes too much to bear, he slides his cock under your panties and right against you, making you gasp out the cutest little moans as you feel him rub against your folds and over your clit. Coupled with his hand around his shaft, he essentially starts jerking off to the sight of you, all while using your pussy to get off. Filthy words and degrading praises spill from his lips as he enjoys the sight of you, enjoys the feel of you, enjoys playing with you like his own little toy.
"Look at you, sitting there whining, letting me rub my cock all over you like this. Fuck I can't get enough of you."
"What a little slut, letting me do such dirty things to you. Surely this isn't the innocent girl I first met."
"So good, so fucking good for me, princess. Keep your legs spread just like that, baby. Let me cum, all over you."
He loves the softness of the panties and the silken heat of your pussy. He loves that he can see the imprint of his dick pressing against the cutesy designs, knowing he's defiling you underneath, seeing your arousal and his precum staining the fabric. He loves when he can see the full outline of your pussy through the sheer fabric, seeing how it clings to your core, and then dips his cock under to rub against you some more.
More often than not, he deviously teases you with the tip of his cock, as it "accidentally" slips past your folds. The feeling of his blunt tip pressing inside you instantly makes you want more, and you whine, wordlessly begging him for more. The teasing ramps up, as he taunts you for wanting his dick inside of you, for being such a slut you want him to use you completely. Your face burns, both from embarrassment and arousal, and your head spins as thoughts start to leave your mind. All you know is that you want him to keep going, want to feel more of his cock inside of you, want him to keep touching you and playing with you and giving you that delicious pleasure you've come to crave.
The words he says his harder, seeping through the tangled mess of your mind, "Oh, is that why you wore this, princess? To get me hard? So I'd wanna put my cock in your pretty pussy? What a slutty little doll, getting so excited to be used."
He'd only slide in and fuck you more if you beg, and if you do, then he moves your panties to the side and makes you watch as his cock slips in and out of your pussy. His hand is still on his length, still jerking off, only he's jerking off with your pussy which makes it all the more naughty. He'd only let you cum if you keep your eyes on his cock the entire time, watching exactly how he's making you feel good, watching the way he defiles you.
Sometimes he cums on your panties. Sometimes he cums under them. Sometimes he cums in your pussy and lets it drip out. But however he cums, he makes sure to make a mess of you. He makes sure you can feel the wet heat of his release against your skin, letting it slide over you just so you can feel how dirty he's made you. Even as he kisses you afterwards and tells you how good you did, he wants you to feel how thoroughly you've been used, and intensify your experience of feeling like a pliant little doll.
you sat there — your and mark's legs intertwined as you both layed on the couch watching some movie. you both agreed to hangout this weekend — missing each other beyond belief thanks to your busy schedules.
you were becoming a bit antsy towards the end of the movie mark's fingers tracing and tapping circles on your hip as you continuously shuffled around. "are you bored already?" he asked. "maybe ..." you mumbled still trying to get comfortable. mark chuckled — before you could finish readjusting for the umpteenth time his hands stopped you: they firmly held you in place on top of him. "what? let me go. i'm trying to — "
"you're trying to get comfortable?" he deadpanned and you sighed. "you win... i'm bored." a pout painted your lips and admitting defeat you fell back into his chest. "this movie sucks mark." you watched the scenes change — the dim light glowing off of his face. your boyfriend's so handsome... "dude no way. you just don't want to watch it." mark was expecting you to protest his claims or whine — however you had found a new distraction: him who was far more interesting than whatever was playing on your flat screen.
if anything mark wasn't expecting you to plant a stern kiss on his lips. the palms of his hands rested on the small of your lower back as you continued to kiss him — your plush lips molding together. "shit... baby the movie..." you love mark — really you do. but sometimes you swear his priorities are out of place. "i don't give a damn about the movie mark — it's boring as hell anyways!" he sucks his teeth. yet he's still willing to compromise. "fine sit up." cocking your eyebrow you eye him up and down. "hurry up before i change my mind."
"i'm going i'm going..." you hurriedly sat up now straddling your boyfriend as he sat before you. "what now?" again mark's hands met your waist as he positioned you on one of his thighs. "this..." still confused you turned your head. "mark what the fuck are we doing..?" you were growing impatient missing his lips — your newfound form of entertainment. "i'm going to watch this movie and you... you're going to ride my thigh." really? "you're kidding me. really? but i — " the room went silent as mark reached for the remote pausing the television. "no buts... you're horny right? you've got what?" he turned his head reading the small numbers adorning the bottom of the screen. "15 minutes to get yourself off alone. then i'll tongue fuck you or something sound good?" as annoyed as you were — mark's never broken a promise which is why you listen to him and begin hesitantly grinding on his thigh.
usually you'd be a little embarrassed — even if you were always challenging mark. however you couldn't care less it's not like he was paying you any attention anyways. for now you were focused on the friction of his thigh flexing against your clothed cunt. however slowly rocking your hips back and forth left you feeling only somewhat satisfied — you buried your head into the crook of mark's neck: whining quietly to yourself and littering bites along with wet kisses onto his throat in efforts to stifle your moans. one of mark's hands had snaked around your waist.
one hand rested on the flat of your lower back this time guiding you forward as he spoke. "8 more minutes baby... all you have t'do is cum for me yeah?" nodding you trailed a couple more kisses down his skin before sitting up — properly riding his thigh: you set a pace grinding down on your boyfriend's thigh and throwing your head back as the fabric of you lounge shorts pinched your clit. it was driving you crazy: mark gently bouncing his leg beneath you as you balanced on top of him. it could be the view in front of him or maybe it was because he could feel your slick on his leg through your shorts — precum seeping through the thin cotton giving him a boner. you could feel your orgasm approaching. however the inconsistent vibrations of mark’s thigh along with the tension thickening between you two made it hard to focus. “fuck y/n…” mark’s eyes trained on your figure writing above him.
the expression on your face was one he always fancied seeing — fucked out and flushed. 60 seconds — that’s how long you had to make yourself cum. mark’s hands firmly held your sides as he let out a loud exhale. “are you close baby?” he rasped out watching as you frantically nodded. 30 seconds — that’s how long you had to ride out your high as your teeth clamped down on your bottom lip. you let the warm pleasurable feeling spread from your stomach to your legs as you came down. still grinding into his leg a gasp ran past your lips… “baby…” you whined into your boyfriend’s ear. 10 seconds — you spent those last seconds needily hurrying sloppy kisses down his neck and continuing to hump now further up on his thigh — closer toward the tent poking through his shorts.
as the credits rolled a sense of relief washed over mark — he wasn’t fond of going back on his word — but finally he could touch you. you were practically burning up. mark’s hands are cold running across the expanse of your upper body under your shirt. “‘ready sweet girl? you were so good don’t you think… cumming all on your own?” his breath fanned against your neck — again you writhed in place — desperate to feel him. “please touch me… just a little bit.” you could feel his fingers tangling with the hem of your shorts and diving into your panties where he met your cunt. he prodded at your entrance which was looking with arousal before plunging a finger into your silklike gummy walls.
“don’t get so impatient y/n.” he remained stern — even if he wanted nothing than to give you everything you were asking. your pussy clenched and fluttered around his fingers before he pulled them out flipping you over onto your back. “w-what’re you doing? aren’t you going to…” “remember what I said? ‘going to tongue fuck you mama — then I’ll give you what you want.” he smiled through his hazy eyes that were lazily covered by his hair and he sunk further into the couch. his lips met your clit in a swift motion almost instantly latching on before swiping his tongue across your slit. “mark!” exclaiming your hands flew to his head whilst your fingers gently tugged at his scalp. your plushy thighs sandwiched his head as your squirmed on top of the cushions — still sensitive from your previous orgasm. mark hummed in response and as the vibrations traveled through your cunt you swore you caught a chill — because here you were again coming undone. except this time it was all over his face. make smiles against your heat still sticky and messy as it was drenched in your own arousal. “feeling sensitive baby?” mark cold swiping his thumb over your pulsing clit. “shit.. yes!” you replied eyes still glued shut. “you tasted so sweet baby. ‘can’t wait to feel you around me cock.”
part two if this does well 🎀 I’ve been debating whether or not to post this but I feel like she’s ready for the world 🫶🏽 also if you couldn’t tell I still fucking hate commas 😍
...💭 have you ever think how yuta would love to be called mommy. he would love to try everything you ask even if it is wear pretty panties, a tight skirt and a black lace bra.
while putting on some makeup on him just to make him even more handsome, you keep giggling and kissing his pretty glossy lips, even while getting ready he can't get his hands off you, he keeps on holding you by the waist, sliding his hands down your naked legs and caressing your pussy over your own red lace panties. you tried to slap his hands away in the beginning, but you just give up when his slim fingers never gave up. you accept the way he ran his fingers between your pussy lips over the fabric, and melted as he grinned everytime he felt you squeezing his hand between your thighs.
it took you a while to get him ready since your mind couldn't leave your pussy, but you did made him even prettier, in black lace and a red leather skirt that marked his hard dick in the front, totally beautiful, so beautiful you could drool while looking at him.
though you did drooled, but on his dick and all over your chin after he took off his skirt, but just after you dry humping on him so much you could have come on your panties like a teenager, no judgement, you did it a lot, yuta loves it too.
the next thing you know he is taking his dick off his panties again just so he can stick it on you, it slides slowly, easily and with a beautiful sound from how much wet you are. you sits on him and stays, trying to adjust, while his shiny lips kisses your shoulders, your neck, your own shiny lips. it's easy to ride him until your thighs are sore, until your juices are sliding his dick and both your thighs and his crotch are wet, until your orgasm starts to get closer and all that leaves your mouth is a pretty, "I want to come, mommy." he's surprised in the beginning, he asks what did you say and when you just repeat with a moan he knows he's fucked, he wants to listening to it again.
"do you want to cum, baby?" he asks, one hand pushing you back to his cock every time you get up to drop again, and the other on your hair pushing your head from his chest where you keep on nibbling at his nipples over his lace bra.
"mommy- I'm coming." is the last coherent thing you say before come on his dick.
he smiles, a beautiful wide smile looking at your eyes closing, and your eyebrows furrowed, "so mommy will give you some babies, will you carry my babies, love?" he asks.
you whines, fuck, "yes, fuck, yes, mommy cum on me." and you don't need to say more, you feel his thick, hot cum dripping down your ass and his beautiful hoarse moans as he deliciously fills you.
"thank you, mommy" you tease one last time, because your sweet mommy is sometimes such a mean daddy. well, you hope he'll.
thinking abt cockwarming w himbo!haechan but he gets too needy and pussy drunk that he just thrusts into u…
a/n: oh wow… wow… umm who else can’t breathe… pretend that a hard hour can be this long… i got too excited… mdni
-
“what are you doing, haechan?”
his grip on your hips loosen, finally realizing what he was doing. he takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm down his mind. this was supposed to be a relaxing, bonding moment with you, but haechan couldn’t sit still. not when you’re wrapped so tightly around him.
“i… was trying to get comfortable…”
“of course you were.”
haechan came up to you today to randomly bring up how he wanted to try cockwarming. you weren’t surprised, considering who he is. it’s not that you didn’t want to do it with him, it’s more so not knowing if he’ll be able to keep still.
he quickly drags you to your bed once you agree, you try to see how long he can last. you’re quick to realize he can’t sit still for that long.
after five minutes of a small conversation, small sounds, and his hands holding your back, he starts moving. he’s shifting his hips around, tries to subtly stuff his cock deeper inside you. you wonder if he knows you can feel him getting hard.
there’s even a point where he tries to grind you down onto him, trying to get you to fuck him instead. you can’t have that though, which leads you to now.
“haechan, you wanted to do this.”
“i know, but you just-“ he hisses a bit when he shifts his hips up, “you just feel so good, baby.”
you can hear the pout in his voice, your eyes rolling at the whiny tone, “let’s just… let’s just go to sleep. if you can’t handle it like this, let’s just try to sleep.”
he lets out a shaky breath, eventually nodding at your words. your head rests at his shoulder, he can see how your eyes close.
he tries. he really tries to calm down and close his eyes. but how can he? he can’t when he feels your warm walls around him, can feel how every time you move, you push him in deeper. it’s really not his fault that he grows hard, he needs you.
his hands travel back down to your hips, trying hard not to grip onto them. he bites back a groan when he shifts under you, cock pushing into you. he can feel your walls clench around him, can feel your eyebrows furrow at the feeling.
you’re pulsing around him, can feel you start dripping all over his cock. he can’t hold back any longer, grip tightening on your skin as he mindlessly starts thrusting in you.
you gasp out in shock, his hands immediately moving to your back and caging you against him. he’s so close, you can hear the soft whines he lets out at the feeling of finally getting to fuck you.
“h-haechan, wait. you just-”
“you felt too good, needed to fuck your pretty pussy, i’m sorry-”
he sounds genuinely apologetic as his cock drives into your cunt. there’s no rhythm to his movements, too desperate and needy to form any proper thoughts. your slick makes a mess of his thighs, the loud squelch filling the room along with how noisy haechan’s being.
he’s babbling in your ear, saying that he’s sorry he couldn’t hold back, how good you feel, how he wishes he can have you like this forever. it gets to you, you can’t help but grind down onto him.
when he hits your sweet spot, you clench harshly down onto his cock. he throws his head back onto the pillows, moaning out your name as his fingers dig harshly into your skin. “g-gonna cum already, baby. you feel too good, can’t help it.”
you nod against his sweaty skin, eyes looking up and seeing how tears roll down his face. his cheeks are red, stained with his tears as he makes eye contact with you.
the sight of your pretty face is almost too much for him to handle, almost cumming at the sight. he’s so close, can feel his cock throbbing, overwhelmed by your sweet pussy.
it’s when you start bouncing your hips against his that he gives up, quickly cumming inside your cunt. he’s whimpering out your name, blunt nails digging into you. “thank you- fuck, thank you for letting me cum!”
his words set you off, seeing him so drunk on you causing you to cum all over his cock. his hips fuck into you when you clench around his, loud whimpers filling the air as you grind against him.
all that’s left in the room are your heavy breaths. haechan runs a hand up and down your back, kisses laid on top of your head. it’s quiet, except for the fact that you remember this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
“you do know that literally wasn’t cockwarming, right, haechan?”
“i know… i’m sorry. we can try again! i know what i’m supposed to do now!”
you sigh, your hands making their way to his hair. he hums appreciatively, sinking into your touch. you suppose it wouldn’t be so bad to try again. you do question him though, “you promise?”
before he can nod, you shift on top of him. he tries hard to stop his cock from twitching, but fails. it only gets worse when he sees the annoyed look on your face, not being able to stop his hips rutting into yours.
his hands grip your ass, “well, we can always go for a round two, right?”
