— I miss you so much
[ Isara Mao x f!reader ]
Warning : 18+ only, No minors!!! ♡ Tags: Fluff, casual romance, smut, top!Mao.
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You lay on the bed, hugging the plushie close while scrolling through the latest news on your phone. The night had already settled in, and you could hear the faint sound of water running from the bathroom as Mao finished his shower.
A small smile tugged at your lips. It had been so long since you last got to properly cuddle with him, his busy schedule always kept him away, and even when he was home, exhaustion often took over. But tonight, you finally had him all to yourself.
Sighing softly, you shook your head and continued browsing on your phone, your fingers lazily swiping across the screen.
You were so focused that you didn't notice the subtle shift in the bed, nor the warmth that crept closer.
It wasn’t until your phone was suddenly plucked from your hands that you blinked in surprise, looking up, only to find Mao looming over you, holding your phone in one hand while his damp red-violet hair clung to his forehead.
You pouted as Mao effortlessly took your phone from your hands, holding it just out of reach. “Maooo, give it back,” you whined, reaching for it, only for him to sigh in amusement.
“It’s time to sleep, Y/n,” he said, running a hand through his damp red-violet hair.
You huffed, crossing your arms. “Ehh? But it’s still early!”
Mao raised an eyebrow before glancing at the time. “Yeah, sure, because 11 PM is so early for you,” he deadpanned, shaking his head as he sat down beside you, towel in hand to finish drying his hair.
You patiently waited as Mao dried his hair, your eyes idly following his movements. As he ran the towel through his damp red-violet strands, a few stray droplets of water trailed down his neck, slipping over the defined lines of his shoulders and back. The dim lighting of the room only accentuated his toned muscles, making the sight even more distracting.
You hadn’t even realized you were staring until Mao suddenly turned back, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. “Like what you see?”
Your face instantly burned with embarrassment. Letting out a small squeak, you quickly buried your face into the plushie, refusing to meet his gaze.
Mao frowned, clearly unimpressed as you clung to the plushie again. With a playful pout, he reached over and snatched it from your arms, placing it on the bedside table.
Your eyes widened. “H-Hey!” you protested, reaching out.
Before you could grab it back, Mao pinned you gently against the bed, his face close to yours. “Stop clinging to the plushie,” he whispered.
Your breath caught in your throat. His sudden boldness made your heart race, it wasn’t often Mao acted this way.
“I-It’s just a plushie… What’s wrong with it?” you stammered, hugging the soft toy tighter to your chest, your eyes darting anywhere but him.
Mao let out a quiet breath—not annoyed, just… vulnerable. Slowly, he knelt in front of you, his green eyes locking with yours for a second before he leaned forward, resting his head gently against your shoulder. His arms slipped around your waist, drawing you into the warmth of him.
“I’m jealous,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m right here… and yet you’re still holding that thing instead of me.”
Your breath caught in your throat, his words laced with something tender, raw. You could feel the way his fingers curled just a little tighter around the fabric of your shirt, like he needed to be sure you were real.
Your cheeks flushed hot, but your heart softened. Slowly, you let go of the plushie and brought your hand up to rest gently on his back, your fingers brushing the soft fabric of his hoodie.
“Dummy…” you murmured, your voice fond, “you could’ve just said you wanted me to hold you.”
He chuckled under his breath, and you felt it against your skin quiet, shy, and completely honest.
Mao shifted his weight, eyes never leaving yours, and before you could ask what he was doing, he leaned in closer, pressing a soft, deliberate kiss to the curve of your neck.
You gasped quietly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his yellow coat. His breath was warm against your skin, his lips trailing slowly along your pulse point, gentle and possessive all at once.
“Mao…” you murmured, voice barely a whisper.
“I’m finally here,” he said lowly, lips brushing your skin between words. “But you’re still clinging to that plushie like I’m not real.”
Mao suck your neck making you jolt.
Savoring each delicate inch with quiet devotion, Mao treated every breath against your skin like a sacred ritual. His lips trailed along the elegant curve of your neck, reverent and possessive, coaxing your body to yield with nothing more than his touch.
The first breath he drew against your throat sent a shiver cascading down your spine—an unspoken promise wrapped in heat. And then came the suction—tender at first, then deepening—each pull deliberate, each kiss a silent brand of desire.
With every passing second, his hunger grew, lips pressing with purpose, leaving behind blooming marks, rosy tokens of passion etched into your skin like ink on parchment. A quiet moan slipped from him, lost in the stillness between you, as he poured himself into each touch, each kiss, tracing a map of intimacy only he could read… and claiming you as his own.
He finally pulled away, his breath still mingling with yours in the fragile space between. His gaze lingered, taking in every detail. The way your (h/c) hair clung to your flushed cheeks, how your (e/c) eyes glistened with a vulnerability you rarely let show. You looked utterly unraveled, caught somewhere between surprise and something far more dangerous desire.
Mao stared for a beat longer than necessary, then smiled to himself, almost in disbelief.
“Already this affected…?” he whispered, voice low and teasing, yet laced with awe.
Your face went crimson. You turned your head in protest, flustered beyond words. The heat blooming beneath your skin wasn’t just from his words, it was from the way he looked at you, like you were something precious, something claimed.
He let out a soft, amused chuckle, a single drop of sweat sliding down his temple. “You’re really something else,” he murmured.
But then he moved again, slower this time, more deliberate. His fingers reached for your jaw, the touch featherlight, almost reverent. He guided your face back toward him, and your breath caught when you saw the way his green eyes shimmered, lids heavy with emotion. His blush mirrored yours, but there was a weight behind his gaze now… like he was holding back an entire universe.
His lips barely brushed your ear as he leaned in, and his voice came out hoarse, laced with meaning.
“This night… it’s only just beginning.”
Your heart leapt into your throat. His words weren't just a promise, they were a confession. A vow wrapped in intimacy. And yet before you could even react, before your thoughts could settle, he closed the distance again.
His lips crashed against yours with a fervor that stole your breath, like a wave crashing against fragile shorelines. It wasn't just a kiss—it was a surge of everything he had held back for so long. His need, his fear, his devotion. All of it poured into you, leaving your thoughts scattering like petals in the wind.
There was no space for words, only heat, only him.
His hand found the side of your face, fingers threading gently through strands of your (h/c) hair, grounding himself in the reality that you were here. Real. Warm. His. The other hand slid to the curve of your back, holding you close enough to feel the thunder of his heartbeat against your chest.
Then came the soft, deliberate press of his tongue against your lips, asking silently, reverently, for more.
You hesitated only for a breath, heart pounding in your ears… and then, you parted your lips.
The second you opened to him, everything changed. He deepened the kiss, slowly, like he wanted to memorize you from the inside out. His tongue met yours in a dance that was tender yet full of hunger, like he needed to taste the very soul of you. Every movement was deliberate, exploring you, savoring you—until even the air around you felt heavy with want.
You whimpered into the kiss, hands tightening in the fabric of his shirt. He responded with a low sound from deep in his throat, the kind of sound that made your knees weak, that said without words: I need you. Not in haste, but in meaning. Fully, truly, endlessly.
His forehead rested against yours as he finally broke the kiss, both of you gasping softly, breath mingling in the narrow space between.
Your lips were swollen, your eyes glassy and when you dared to look at him, you found him just as shaken. Mao’s blush reached to the tips of his ears, his chest rising and falling with unspoken emotion. And yet… he smiled.
A soft, reverent thing.
“Still with me…?” he murmured, voice rough with feeling, as if the depth of what just passed between you had shaken him to the core too.
You nodded slowly, lips still tingling, chest rising and falling as you tried to steady your breath. The moment your eyes met his again, those green irises darkened with unspoken emotion, he smiled.
“Good,” Mao murmured, almost in a whisper. Then he leaned in and captured your lips once more.
This time, the kiss was different. Slower. More deliberate. Like he was savoring the feel of you. Like this was something sacred.
His hands didn’t rush. One stayed at the side of your face, thumb gently brushing along your cheekbone, while the other trailed down with a feather-light touch over your arm, your side, until his fingers found the hem of your shirt.
You shivered at the warmth of his palm as it slipped beneath the fabric, moving slowly, cautiously. His touch was reverent, as if asking for permission with every inch he explored. And when his hand finally cupped you through the lace of your bra, it wasn’t rough or hurried, it was delicate. Cradling. As though he understood the weight of the trust you placed in him.
He broke the kiss, just for a moment, his lips brushing against your jaw as he whispered your name like a prayer. “Tell me if it’s too much… if I go too fast.”
His voice was hoarse, trembling slightly with restraint. But more than anything, it was full of care.
You looked up at him,your chest fluttering, your skin burning under his touch and nodded once more, lips parting with soft breath.
“I want this,” you whispered. “I want you.”
The silence that followed wasn’t empty, it was thick with emotion, wrapped in the kind of vulnerability that few ever shared.
At first, Mao took his time exploring, tracing the curve of your breast with his thumb, circling your nipple until it grew hard. You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips, encouraging him to go further. He did.
He increased the pressure, rolling your nipple between his fingers until you gasped, heat pooling between your legs. His mouth moved from your lips to your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin.
You gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. Mao’s hand slid down from your breast, tracing a burning path down your stomach. He paused at the waistband of your pants, looking up at you for confirmation.
You nodded, breath hitching as his fingers deftly unbuttoned them, pushing them down along with your underwear. He paused for a moment, his breath hot on your inner thigh.
You could feel his hesitation, his need for reassurance. You spread your legs wider, an invitation. His fingers brushed against your pussy, gently parting your lips. He moaned against your skin, a sound of pure reverence.
He slid a finger inside you, slow and deep, his thumb circling your clit. You bucked against his hand, your body already tensing with anticipation. "The way your body feels... the way you look." Mao's voice shook, he was taking his time, he was lost in you.
His fingers moved in and out of your soaked folds, and he bowed his head, starting to kiss the soft skin of your inner thigh, gradually pushing your legs open. It was sensitive, and a gasp escaped your lips and it took him a second, but he understood your movements and came back to his previous trail, getting a bit closer.
He needed your approval. He looked up at you, his eyes glazed with lust, and pushed you legs open a bit more. He bowed his head, and stroked his tongue along your slit, tasting you.
He started slow, licking and sucking gently, building the heat. You writhed against his mouth, your hands fisting in his hair. He slipped his fingers back inside you, curling them to hit that spot deep inside that made you cry out.
His tongue flicked against your clit, the sensation almost too much. You were breathing heavily, your body tensing as he pushed you closer to the edge.
Mao’s voice hitched, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. “I missed this,” he confessed, his tongue tracing lazy circles around your clit. “Missed the way you taste, the way you feel. Sometimes at work, I'd lock myself in the supply closet, just to touch myself thinking of you. To feel even a fraction of this.” His words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, his confession raw and honest.
You whimpered, your hips lifting to meet his mouth, encouraging him to take more. To give more. He obliged, his tongue flicking faster, his fingers pumping deeper. The dual sensation sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins.
His free hand gripped your thigh, holding you open, exposing you completely to his devouring mouth. You could feel the tension coiling in your belly, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Mao’s eyes flickered up to yours, green irises dark with lust and something more primal.
He wanted to watch you come undone. Wanted to see the effect he had on you. You could feel it building, the pressure in your core, the heat spreading through your limbs. His tongue moved faster, his fingers curled deeper, hitting that spot over and over again.
You were panting now, your body trembling on the edge. “Mao,” you gasped, his name a plea on your lips. He responded with a low growl, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. Your back arched, your body tensing as the orgasm crashed over you.
You cried out, your hands gripping his hair, holding him to you as your body shook with the force of your release. Mao lapped at you gently, his touch softening as he coaxed every last shudder from your body.
He looked up at you, his chin glistening, his eyes filled with a hunger that matched your own. He stood, his body towering over yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
Mao groaned as he took his time sliding off his sleepwear, his cock already hard and throbbing. He stroked himself once, twice, his eyes never leaving yours.
He then lifted your legs, placing them over his shoulders, opening you up completely to him. He leaned down, his body pressing against yours, his cock aligning with your pussy, hot and ready. He kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth, tasting you.
He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "Tell me if it hurts," he whispered, his voice hoarse with need. He wanted this to be perfect, wanted to give you as much pleasure as possible. You nodded, your body already aching with anticipation.
He pressed the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you with the tip. You bucked your hips, trying to take more of him, but he held back, a smirk playing on his lips. "Patience," he murmured, before pushing in slowly, inch by inch, filling you completely.
You gasped as he stretched you, the sensation almost too much. He paused, giving you time to adjust, his eyes never leaving yours. He started to move, slow and steady, his hips rolling against yours.
He reached down, his thumb finding your clit, circling it gently, building the heat once more. He leaned down, his lips finding yours in a deep, passionate kiss. The pace of his hips increased, his cock thrusting in and out of you, his thumb working your clit in perfect rhythm.
You were panting now, your body tense, and ready to be pushed over the edge. He increased his pace, his body slamming against yours, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. You could feel it building, the pressure in your core, the heat spreading through your limbs.
Mao moaned, his body tensing, his thrusts becoming erratic. He was close, and he wanted you to come with him. "Come for me." he growled, his voice hoarse with need. His teeth grazed your neck, and you gasped, your body convulsing as another orgasm ripped through you.
Mao thrust deep one last time, his body shuddering as he came, his cock pulsing inside you.
He collapsed gently onto you, his breath warm against your shoulder, body still trembling with the aftershocks of what you'd just shared. The room was filled with nothing but the sound of your soft breathing and the steady thump of his heartbeat pressed against your chest.
You instinctively wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, grounding both of you in the moment.
Mao lifted his head slightly to check on you, his messy hair falling into his eyes. When he noticed your closed eyes and the slight tension in your brow, concern immediately flashed across his face. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, voice low, tinged with worry.
You blinked your eyes open, your lips forming a faint pout. Instead of answering right away, you raised a hand and gave his chest a light, playful smack.
He winced dramatically. “Oof! Okay, okay, I deserved that.”
You couldn't help but smile despite yourself. “You always overthink,” you murmured, brushing a few strands of his hair away from his eyes. “I’m fine, just a little… overwhelmed.”
Mao exhaled, a soft chuckle escaping him as he let his forehead fall gently against yours. “Seeing you like this… I guess that means I didn’t completely mess up.”
You let out a breathless laugh, then sighed as you tried—and failed—to lift your arm. “Ugh… I don’t think I can move.”
Mao, who was still catching his breath, sat up with surprising ease. You stared at him in disbelief. “Wait—how do you still have the strength to sit up?”
He chuckled, glancing down at you with a teasing grin. “Don’t forget, I’m an idol. I go through brutal practice routines almost every day. Endurance is kind of my thing.”
Before you could argue, he effortlessly scooped you into his arms, cradling you close against his chest. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up, then we’ll collapse properly and sleep like logs.”
You gave him a tired smirk. “Alright, Mister Jealous Boyfriend.”
He visibly stiffened at the nickname, his eyes narrowing. “Keep talking and I will drop you.”
“Please don’t,” you said quickly, clinging to him like a koala.
He sighed dramatically but smiled as he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple. “You’re lucky I’m weak to you.”
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I almost fainted while writing this…