Caedyn’s Corner

HONGJOONG

"Babe, I need to tell you something," Hongjoong said, his voice crackling with tension as he broke the silence of your cozy apartment. You looked up from your book, your eyes wide with curiosity. You’d known him for a while now, and when he talked like this, it was usually about something important.

"What's up?" you asked, setting your book aside and turning to face him.

Hongjoong took a deep breath. "You know how we've been trying new things in the bedroom?"

You nodded, your expression shifting to one of understanding. You’d been together for a year, and your relationship was marked by a spirit of adventure and openness. "Yeah, I've been lovin’ it," you said with a warm smile, reaching over to squeeze his hand.

"Well, I've been doing some reading," he began, his thumb tracing circles on your palm. "And I've been thinking about trying out some new kinks."

Your eyes lit up with interest. "Oh? What kind of kinks?"

"Well, there's one in particular," he said, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I've always been kind of curious about…pegging."

You leaned in, your curiosity piqued. "Pegging?"

"Yeah, y’know," he replied, a hint of shyness in his voice. "Like, when a girl uses a strap-on on a guy."

Your eyes grew even wider, and you couldn't help but chuckle a little. "Wow, that's..." you paused, searching for the right word. "Surprising."

"But you're cool with it?" he asked, hopeful.

You nodded, your smile never wavering. "If it's something you wanna try, then I'm all for it."

Relief washed over him. "Really?"

"Yeah," you said, your voice firm. "Long as we’re both happy and we both consent, I don’t see why not.”

Hongjoong felt his heart race. He'd been nervous about bringing this up, but your response was more accepting than he could have ever hoped for. "Thank you," he said, leaning over to kiss you. "Thank you so much."

Your eyes sparkled with excitement. "Luckily, I already own a strap-on," you revealed, your voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "I was just waiting for you to say something."

He pulled back, surprised. "You do?"

"Mmhmm," you nodded, your lips curling into a mischievous smile. "I picked it up a while ago, just to keep things interesting. The store I bought it from was having a sale, anyway.”

You decided to start slow, setting a date for your new adventure. The days leading up to it were filled with a mix of excitement and nerves. You talked about it in hushed tones, sharing your thoughts and expectations. You assured him that you’d be gentle, that you’d take it step by step, and that you could stop at any point if he felt uncomfortable.

On the day of your rendezvous, the tension in the air was palpable. You both agreed to set the scene, making your living room into a makeshift boudoir with candles and soft music. You wore a lacy lingerie set that made Hongjoong's pulse quicken, and you had the strap-on laid out on the bed, gleaming in the soft candlelight.

When the moment finally came, you approached him with the strap-on, your eyes locked on his. "Ready?" you asked, your voice a mix of excitement and concern.

He took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah…yes, yeah," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I'm ready."

You leaned over and reached for the bottle of lube on the side table. You squirted a generous amount onto your fingers, the sound echoing in the quiet room. You looked back at him, your eyes dark with anticipation. Slowly, you brought your hand to his backside, your touch sending shivers down his spine.

"Relax," you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. You began to circle his hole with one finger, applying gentle pressure. He tensed up at first, but your reassuring strokes and soft kisses along his neck helped him to ease into it. As you pushed your finger inside, he gasped, his body tightening around you. You waited for a moment, allowing him to adjust to the new sensation, before you started to move it in and out, the lube making it smooth and easy.

With each stroke, he felt himself relaxing more and more. He'd never felt anything like this before, but the pleasure was undeniable. He leaned into your touch, his cock growing harder by the second. He watched you in the mirror, your eyes focused and determined as you worked him open. It was a strange, vulnerable feeling, but it was also incredibly erotic, watching the woman he loved take control in such an intimate way.

As you added a second finger, he moaned, his eyes fluttering shut. The sensation was intense, but he was ready for more. He could feel your excitement building too, your breath quickening as you watched his reactions in the mirror. You leaned down and kissed him, your tongue dancing with his as you continued to prepare him for what was to come.

"Are you okay?" you asked, your voice soothing.

He nodded, his eyes still closed. "Y-Yeah," he breathed. "It feels... amazing."

You felt a thrill of triumph at his words. You’d read about the prostate, the male G-spot, and knew that if you could hit it just right, it would be an experience he'd never forget. You curled your fingers slightly and felt him jolt as you brushed against it. His eyes snapped open, and you watched in the mirror as his pupils dilated with pleasure.

"Oh, f-fuck," he murmured, his hips bucking involuntarily. You stilled your hand, giving him a moment to process the sensation. You could see the question in his eyes, the unspoken "W-What… was that?" But you just smiled and whispered,

"You're doing great," before resuming your slow, deliberate movements.

With each stroke, you grew bolder, applying more pressure to that sensitive spot. He was panting now, his body trembling with every touch. You could feel his muscles tightening around your fingers, and you knew he was close to the edge.

"Y-Y/n," he moaned, his voice strained. "I think I'm... I-I'm gonna..."

"Let go," you urged, your voice low and encouraging. "I've got you, baby."

And with that, you pushed your fingers a little deeper, your thumb pressing firmly against his prostate. The sensation was overwhelming, a wave of pleasure that crashed over him like never before. His body arched off the bed, his eyes squeezed shut as he let out a guttural cry. The orgasm was unlike any he'd ever experienced, a deep, intense release that seemed to start in his toes and work its way up through his entire body. He could feel the muscles in his ass clench around your fingers, his cock pulsing with every spurt of cum that painted the sheets.

When it was over, he collapsed back onto the bed, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. You gently withdrew your hand, a look of pure satisfaction on your face. "See?" you murmured, leaning down to kiss him softly. "It's all about exploration and trust."

Hongjoong nodded, his eyes still glazed over with pleasure. He could feel the sticky warmth of his release on his stomach, and his ass was still tingling from your expert touch. "Yeah," he managed to say, his voice hoarse. "It was... incredible."

Without wasting any time, you reached for the strap-on. You slipped it on with an air of confidence that made his heart race all over again. The sight of you, dressed in nothing but the lacy lingerie and the leather harness, was enough to make him hard once more. You grabbed his hips, your grip firm but gentle, and positioned yourself behind him. He could feel the coolness of the lubricated toy against his skin, and his nerves spiked in anticipation.

"Remember to breathe," you instructed, your voice calm and steady. "We're gonna take this slow."

He nodded, his eyes fixed on your reflection in the mirror. He watched as you pushed the tip of the strap-on against his now-sensitive entrance, applying just enough pressure to allow it to slide in. He gasped as you entered him, the feeling of fullness overwhelming. You waited for him to adjust before you started to move, your hips rocking in a slow, rhythmic motion.

The initial discomfort soon gave way to a building wave of pleasure. With every thrust, you hit that spot deep inside him that you’d found with your fingers, sending bolts of electricity through his body. He could feel his prostate swelling with each pass, the sensation growing more intense with every moment. He moaned, his hands clutching the bedsheets as he tried to hold on.

Your movements grew more deliberate, your breathing quickening as you found your own rhythm. You leaned over him, your breasts pressing against his back as you whispered sweet nothings into his ear. "Do you like it?" you asked, your voice a seductive purr.

"Y-Yes," he gasped, his voice strained. "Oh, G-God, yes-!”

Your eyes met in the mirror, and you gave him a wicked smile. "Good boy," you said, your voice dripping with desire. "Because I'm about to make you come again."

And with that, you picked up the pace, your hips slamming into him with more force. He didn't know how much more he could take, but he didn't want it to stop.

As you thrust into him, he reached down to stroke his cock, the sight of you taking him in the mirror pushing him closer to the edge. His orgasm built quickly, his body tightening as he neared the precipice. He watched as you pushed him over, your own climax written on your face as you moaned in pleasure. Your clit had been rubbing against the fabric of your underwear with each thrust.

Your bodies moved in perfect harmony, your cries of ecstasy echoing through the room. When you were both spent, you pulled out gently and removed the strap-on, collapsing beside him on the bed. You lay there for a moment, your hearts pounding in unison.

"That was..." he began, but the words failed him.

"Amazing,” you finished for him, your voice soft and filled with love. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You held each other tightly, your breathing slowly returning to normal. It was a moment of pure intimacy, a new chapter in your sexual journey that had brought you closer than ever before. And as you lay there, tangled in the aftermath of your passion, you both knew that you were ready to explore whatever kinks and desires your hearts desired.

SEONGHWA

"Hey, Seonghwa," you called out, gout voice bubbling with excitement as you padded through the apartment in your socks. The floorboards were cool under your feet, a stark contrast to the warmth that suffused your cheeks. You had rehearsed this moment in your head for weeks, turning the words over and over until you were smooth as river stones.

Seonghwa poked his head out from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. "Yes, dear?" he responded, the scent of simmering garlic and onions filling the air.

Your heart fluttered in your chest like a bird caught in a cage. You took a deep breath, your eyes locking onto his. "Can I help with dinner?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You know I like cooking for you."

You nodded, feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation. The kitchen was a cozy cocoon of warm light, the sound of sizzling oil and clinking pans creating a comforting backdrop to your evening ritual. You took a step closer, feeling the heat from the stove against your legs. "But I have a surprise for dessert," you said, your voice barely above a murmur.

Seonghwa looked at you, curiosity piqued. "Oh?"

Your hands trembled slightly as you reached for him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. You leaned in, your cheek against his back, and whispered, "I wanna… peg you."

The room went still, the only sound the persistent hiss of the stove. Seonghwa stiffened, the spatula hovering in the air. You could feel his heartbeat quicken against you.

The silence stretched on, thick and unyielding. You tightened your grip, your pulse racing.

Finally, he turned to face you, setting the spatula down with a clatter. His eyes searched yours, a question etched into the lines of his face. "You're sure?" he asked, his voice low and careful.

Your nod was firm, your eyes unwavering. "I’m asking you. Are you sure? I already have a strap-on.”

For a moment, the air between you two crackled with tension. Then, slowly, a smile spread across Seonghwa's face. He reached up, cupping your cheek with his hand. "Sure," he murmured, "But let's finish cooking first."

“Do you really wanna finish?” you tilts your head with a raised eyebrow, and he scoffs a bit, knowing you were right about him not wanting to finish cooking. The aroma of your dinner filled the room, but the anticipation of what was to come was stronger.

“I’ll just set a timer,” he says, turning back to the stove to do exactly that. The kitchen timer beeps obediently, acknowledging the temporary pause in your culinary endeavors. He turns back to you, his eyes smoldering with desire and a hint of apprehension. You can see he’s trying to keep his cool, but you know he’s just as eager as you are.

You move to the bedroom, the floorboards creaking under your weight as you leave the warm kitchen behind. The room is bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, a stark contrast to the harsh fluorescents of the university halls where your secret relationship had begun. The air is charged with excitement and nerves as you both stand before each other, the weight of your unspoken desires hanging in the air like a ripe fruit ready to drop.

Seonghwa’s eyes widen slightly when he sees the strap-on lying on the bed, gleaming in the candlelight. It’s a new toy, something you’d bought just for tonight. You’d done your research, watched videos, read articles – you wanted this to be perfect for both of you.

You sit on the edge of the bed, your knees touching. He takes your hand, stroking your knuckles with his thumb. “Are you nervous?” he asks, his voice gentle.

“A little,” you admit, your voice shaking. “Even though I’m the one who’s pegging you. So you should be nervous. But I trust you. And I know you’ll tell me if it’s too much.”

He nods solemnly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve done my own research on this too… That’s why I’m not so nervous. And yes, I’ll tell you,” he promises.

You leaned in for a kiss, your lips parting slowly, tentatively. It’s a kiss filled with promise and love, a silent pact to explore this new part of your relationship together. His hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as your tongues dance together.

Breaking away, you grab the lube from the nightstand, your hand shaking slightly. You try to play it cool, but the excitement in your eyes gives you away. Seonghwa watches you, his own hands fumbling with his buttons, his shirt coming off to reveal his bare chest. You can't help but admire the way the candlelight plays off his muscles.

He lays back on the bed, the softness of the mattress enveloping him. You follow suit, kneeling beside him and gently guiding him to lie on his back. His eyes never leave yours as you straddle him, the warmth of your bodies melding together. The air in the room feels charged, as if the very molecules are vibrating with anticipation.

"I'll start with my fingers," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the thundering of your heart. You lean in, your breath hot against his ear, and he nods, his eyes closing in anticipation. You take a deep breath, your heart racing as you apply the lube to your fingers. You both tremble slightly, the moment feeling both surreal and incredibly intimate.

Your hand moves to his waist, sliding down to the button of his pants. He lifts his hips slightly to help you, and you feel his hardness against your palm. You take another deep breath, your pulse quickening as you unzip his pants. You’ve done this countless times before, but tonight it feels different – charged with a new kind of excitement.

With trembling hands, you slide his pants down, exposing his bare skin. He's already hard, his cock standing proudly against his stomach. You stroke it lightly, watching his face for any signs of discomfort or hesitation. His eyes are closed, his breathing deep and even.

"Ready?" you ask, and he nods, his eyes still closed. You smile, a mix of love and excitement lighting up your features and lean in to kiss him again. Your lips meet in a gentle, lingering kiss that seems to go on forever, your bodies speaking a language only you understand.

Your fingers trace a path down to his ass, the tip of one digit circling his hole. He tenses slightly, and you pauses, waiting for his signal. When he relaxes, You presses in, slow and steady, feeling him open up to you. The sensation is strange and thrilling, and you’re acutely aware of every little sound he makes, every twitch of his body.

Seonghwa's eyes fly open, and he looks at you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. "M-More," he whispers, his voice thick with need. You add another finger, your own heart racing in response to his. You’ve never felt so powerful, so connected to him.

The timer in the kitchen beeps, a jarring reminder of the dinner waiting for you. But neither of you care about the food anymore. You’re lost in a world of sensation, a place where only the two of you exist.

Your fingers dance around his prostate, finding the sweet spot with a precision that surprises even you. You can feel him tense and release, his breath hitching in his throat as you explore him. He gasps into Your mouth, the sound muffled by your kiss. His hand tightens around your wrist, urging you to go deeper, faster.

As you do, you wrap your other hand around his cock, your grip firm but gentle. You stroke in time with your fingering, feeling him throb against your palm. The rhythm builds, a crescendo of pleasure that threatens to overwhelm you both. You can feel him getting closer, his hips bucking up to meet your hand.

But you’re not ready for this to end yet. You pull your hand away from his cock, smiling at the whine of protest that escapes his lips. "Patience," you murmur, your voice low and seductive. You reach for the strap-on, your heart pounding in your chest.

Seonghwa watches you, his eyes glazed with desire. You slide the harness over your hips, adjusting it until it fits snugly. The feel of the cool leather against your skin sends a shiver down your spine. You’ve never felt so alive, so powerful.

The head of the dildo nudges against his entrance, and you feel his body tense. You pause, looking down at him, your breathing ragged. "Ready?" you asks, and he nods, his eyes never leaving yours.

Slowly, you pressed in, feeling the resistance give way as you fill him up. He gasps, his eyes rolling back in his head. The sound sends a thrill through you, and you starts to move, setting a rhythm that's both torturously slow and incredibly intimate.

His hands are on your hips, guiding you, urging you deeper. You can feel the warmth of his skin, the way his muscles clench around your fingers. You’ve never been so attuned to another person's body, so in sync with your needs.

You move together, the only sounds in the room your harsh breathing and the wet slap of skin on skin. His moans are music to your ears, and you knows you’re hitting all the right notes. The candles flicker, casting shadows across the walls, painting your bodies in a dance of light and dark.

As you pressed down on his prostate, he arches his back, his grip on your hips tightening. You can feel him getting closer, his muscles tensing around your fingers. You know he's close, so close, and you speed up, eager to watch him fall apart.

And then it happens. His whole body tenses, his eyes squeezed shut, and he cries out, his release spilling over your hand. You continue to move, letting him ride out the waves of pleasure, feeling his ass clench around your fingers.

When the spasms finally stop, you lean down to kiss him, tasting the salt of his sweat on his skin. He's panting, his chest heaving. You pull out, gently, and he relaxes, his eyes opening to meet yours. The look of pure ecstasy on his face is worth every nerve-wracking moment of anticipation.

You lie there, entwined in each other's arms, the candles burning low. The timer in the kitchen has long since stopped beeping, but the food is forgotten. This moment, this new chapter in your relationship, is all that matters.

Seonghwa's hand drifts down to your strap-on, his touch gentle and exploratory. "Your turn,"

YUNHO

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the city as Yunho pulled his motorcycle into the apartment complex's underground parking. He killed the engine and let out a contented sigh, feeling the gentle vibrations of the bike fade away. The smell of exhaust and leather filled the cool evening air, a stark contrast to the scent of blooming flowers that had been thick in the air during his ride. The world was quiet now, save for the distant echo of a closing garage door and the occasional murmur of a passing car.

As he climbed the stairs to the third floor, his thoughts drifted to his girlfriend, Y/N. He knew you’d be waiting for him, probably with dinner already made. You had a simple routine that he cherished. He reached for the door handle, the anticipation of your reunion making his heart race just a little faster.

When he stepped inside, the apartment was dimly lit, the only light coming from a couple of flickering candles scattered around the living room. You looked up from your book, your eyes sparkling with excitement. You set the book aside and slid off the couch, walking over to him in a way that made his knees feel a bit weaker than usual. You were wearing one of his old t-shirts, the fabric clinging to your curves in a way that made him swallow hard.

"You're back," you said, your voice a sweet purr that seemed to resonate through his entire body.

He nodded, smiling as he closed the door behind him. "Yeah," he said, his voice a little rougher than he'd intended. "Missed you."

Your smile grew mischievous as you stepped closer, your bare feet silent on the hardwood floor. "I missed you too," you murmured, reaching out to trace a line down his chest. "I've been thinking about something."

Yunho's eyes widened as you took his hand and led him to the bedroom. "What's that?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

You turned to face him, your expression a mix of excitement and nervousness. "I wanna peg you," you said, your cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink. "I've been readin’ about it, and I think it could be amazing for us."

He blinked, taken aback by your sudden proposal. "Pegging?" he repeated, his mind racing. He'd heard of it before, but you’d never discussed it.

"Yeah," you said, your voice a little shakier now. "You know, I wear a strap-on and we can switch things up a bit."

Yunho felt a thrill of surprise, and a flicker of arousal at the thought of the power dynamic shift. He knew you were adventurous in bed, but this was a new level of intimacy you hadn't yet explored. He took a deep breath, looking into your eyes. "Okay," he said, his voice firm. "If it's something you really want to try, then let's do it."

Your face lit up, and you threw your arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. The scent of your perfume filled his nose, making him dizzy with desire. As you broke apart, you reached into your drawer and pulled out a velvet pouch. "I got this," you said, holding up a sleek black strap-on. "It's made of the softest material."

He took it from you, feeling the weight and the smoothness of it in his hand. His heart was racing now, a mix of nerves and excitement. Your eyes searched his face, looking for any sign of hesitation. "We can take it slow," you assured him, your voice gentle. "We'll use lube, and I'll be as careful as I can."

Yunho nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. He trusted you completely, and the thought of experiencing something new together was exhilarating. You undressed slowly, each piece of clothing falling to the floor like a silent promise of the intimacy to come. Your body was a vision, your skin glowing in the candlelight, and he felt his arousal growing as he watched you strap the device on.

You took his hand and led him to the bed, your bodies brushing against each other with every step. The anticipation was almost unbearable, his heart hammering in his chest. Your touch was gentle as you laid him down and began to stroke his cock, your other hand reaching for the lube. "I'll have to stretch you out first," you said, your voice low and seductive. "I'll use my fingers."

He nodded, his breath hitching as you squeezed a generous amount of lube onto your fingers. You leaned over him, your breasts brushing against his chest as you took his cock in your hand and began to work the lubricant around his opening. The coolness of the gel was soon replaced by the warmth of your touch, and he felt his body begin to relax, opening up to you. Your eyes never left his as you pushed one finger inside, your gaze filled with a mix of passion and concern.

The sensation was strange at first, a slight burn that quickly gave way to a fullness he'd never felt before. Your eyes searched his, gauging his reaction, and he nodded again, his voice barely a whisper. "Keep going."

With agonizing slowness, you added a second finger, your movements deliberate and precise. He could feel the muscles inside him stretching, accommodating you, and the sensation was both overwhelming and incredibly arousing. His cock grew harder in your hand, and he felt his body responding in ways he'd never expected. You worked him gently, your index finger circling his prostate as you stretched him wider, preparing him for what was to come.

The room was filled with the sound of your breathing, the occasional squeak of the mattress beneath you as you worked your fingers in and out of him. Your eyes never left Yunho's, watching for any sign of discomfort, your own arousal growing with every little gasp he made. You felt a thrill of power, of being the one in control, the one bringing him to new heights of pleasure. His trust in you was palpable, and it made your heart swell with love and desire.

Yunho's body tensed and then relaxed, his breaths growing shorter as you added a third finger. The initial burn had transformed into a deep, intense ache that was strangely pleasurable. He felt vulnerable, but safe in your care. Your eyes, usually so playful, were now focused and serious, and he knew you wouldn't push him further than he could handle. He nodded, his voice barely a murmur, "I'm ready."

You leaned in to kiss him, your tongue teasing his as you pulled your fingers out. You took the strap-on in your hand and positioned it at his entrance, the tip slick with lube. Yunho could feel his heart racing, the anticipation making him dizzy. You pressed it in gently, the soft material sliding in easily thanks to your careful preparation. He tensed for a moment, then sighed as you pushed it in deeper, filling him completely.

You took your time, exploring this new sensation together. You started with slow, shallow thrusts, your eyes never leaving his. You watched his face, studied his reactions, and adjusted your movements accordingly. Yunho's hand found yours, his fingers entwining with yours as you gripped the base of the strap-on. Together, you found a rhythm that made him moan, his hips rising to meet you.

The sensation grew, building like a crescendo inside him. The feeling of being filled by you, of you in control, was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. It was intimate and raw, and it was beautiful. His cock was rock-hard, begging for attention, and you didn't disappoint. You reached down, your hand wrapping around him, stroking him in time with your movements.

The world outside the bedroom faded away, replaced by the sound of your skin slapping together and your mingled gasps. Yunho's eyes rolled back in his head as you hit his prostate, sending waves of pleasure through his body. He could feel his orgasm building, a pressure that was both terrifying and incredible. "Y/N," he breathed, his voice ragged.

Your movements grew more urgent, your hips moving faster, and he knew you were close too with hoe your clit was rubbing against the inside of the strap-on. He watched you, the muscles in your arms tensing, your breath coming in pants. You leaned down, capturing his mouth in a kiss that was both tender and fierce, your tongues dancing together as your bodies moved in perfect harmony.

And then it was too much. Yunho's body arched off the bed, his orgasm tearing through him like a lightning bolt. He came hard, his cock pulsing in your hand as you continued to stroke him, your own body trembling with the force of your climax. You stayed like that for a moment, breathless and connected, before collapsing into a heap of tangled limbs and sated sighs.

The candles continued to flicker, casting shadows across the room, but you were lost in your own little world. You pulled the strap-on off, your body slick with sweat, and curled up next to him. "How was it?" you whispered, your voice filled with concern and excitement.

Yunho turned to you, a lazy smile spreading across his face. "Amazing," he murmured, brushing a lock of hair from your forehead. "I can't believe we've never done that before."

You grinned, your eyes sparkling. "There's so much more we can explore," you said, your voice filled with promise. "But for now, let's just bask in this."

And so you did, your bodies entwined, hearts racing, as you reveled in the afterglow of your shared experience. The air was thick with the scent of sex and candle wax, a testament to the uncharted territory you’d just explored together.

YEOSANG

"What's up with you and your weird fantasies?" you tossed your head back, letting out a peal of laughter.

Yeosang, caught off guard by your reaction, felt his cheeks flush. "It's not weird," he protested, his voice a tad defensive. "It's just something I've been thinking about."

You leaned forward, your eyes dancing with curiosity. "Okay, fine," you said, your smile teasing. "Tell me more."

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. "You know how we've been exploring different things in bed?" He paused, waiting for your nod. "Well, I read somewhere that pegging can be really intense for both parties. It's about trust and pushing boundaries, you know?"

Your expression grew thoughtful as you traced a finger along the rim of your wine glass. "I guess I can see that," you murmured, your gaze drifting off to the distant horizon. "But isn't it a bit... unconventional?"

"That's kind of the point," he replied, leaning in closer. "It's about trying new things together, growing closer."

The silence between you both stretched out, filled with unspoken questions and anticipation. Yeosang could feel the warmth of your skin and the sweet scent of your perfume, a delicate blend of vanilla and jasmine that always made his head spin. He waited for your response, his stomach in knots.

Finally, you took a sip of your wine, the red liquid leaving a trail of shimmer on your upper lip. "Alright," you said, your voice casual. “Cool. I’m pretty sure I bought a strap-on.”

Yeosang’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected you to be so nonchalant about the whole thing. He felt his heart racing even faster, his mind racing with thoughts of what this could mean for your relationship.

"Where?" he managed to croak out, his voice thick with anticipation.

"In my drawer," you said, with a smirk. "I’ve had it for a while. You know, for when the mood strikes."

The revelation hit him like a ton of bricks. He had never thought you’d be so open to the idea, let alone already have the equipment. "Really?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

You nodded, your smirk growing into a full-blown smile. "Why not?" you said, reaching out to place a hand on his thigh. "I've always liked the idea of switching things up. It keeps things fresh, you know?"

Your touch sent a jolt of excitement through him. He had never felt more alive, more connected to you than he did at that moment. He took a sip of his own wine, trying to calm his nerves. "I just didn't know you were into that kind of thing," he admitted.

"Well, now you do," you said, your voice a purr. "And it's your lucky night, because I'm feeling particularly adventurous.”

The both of you finished your wine in silence, the anticipation hanging heavy in the air. Yeosang could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his body already reacting to the thought of what was to come. The candles flickered, casting shadows across the room that danced in time with your racing thoughts.

As you made your way to the bedroom, your hand slid into his, your grip firm and reassuring. You led him to the bed, where you pulled open the drawer and revealed the strap-on. It was sleek and black, with a curved shaft that gleamed in the soft light. Yeosang felt his stomach flip at the sight of it.

With a gentle touch, you began to undo his pants, your eyes locked onto his. He could see the excitement in you, the same thrill that he felt coursing through his veins. His shirt followed, and soon he was standing before you in just his boxers, his body trembling slightly.

You sat on the edge of the bed, your legs crossed. You reached out and hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down slowly. His erection sprang free, bobbing in the cool air. You took it in your hand, stroking it gently as you studied him. "You're so beautiful," you murmured, your voice low and sultry.

Yeosang felt a rush of love for you in that moment. He had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, and yet so desired. You leaned in and kissed him, your tongue probing his mouth as your hand continued to work him. He could feel himself growing harder, his breath coming in short gasps.

When you broke the kiss, you slid your fingers down to his opening, gently pushing inside. He gasped, his eyes flying open. The sensation was new, a mix of pleasure and pressure that made him quiver. You moved your hand in a slow, steady rhythm, working him open as he grew more and more aroused.

Finally, you pulled away, your fingers glistening with lubricant. You stood up and put on the strap-on, adjusting it until it was snug. The sight of you, tall and confident, wearing the harness, was almost too much to bear. Yeosang couldn't help but stare, his body responding eagerly to the sight.

"Ready?" you asked, a wicked smile playing on your lips.

He nodded, unable to find his voice. You climbed onto the bed, straddling him. He could feel the head of the dildo pressing against him, the anticipation making him dizzy. You leaned down and kissed him again, your tongue dancing with his as you began to push inside.

The sensation was unlike anything he had ever felt before. There was pain, yes, but it was melded with a deep, intense pleasure that took his breath away. He clung to you, his nails digging into your back as you pushed deeper, your hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm that made him moan.

You took your time, letting him adjust to the feeling. You whispered sweet nothings into his ear, your breath hot against his skin. Yeosang could feel your love, your desire for him, in every stroke. It was as if you were claiming him in a way that no one ever had before.

As the initial shock subsided, Yeosang began to move with you, pushing back against you, meeting your thrusts with his own. The pain had morphed into something else, something primal and addictive. He never wanted it to end.

Your bodies moved together, a dance of love and lust that seemed to go on forever. Your hands roamed his body, your nails scraping against his skin, leaving a trail of fire wherever you went. Yeosang could feel his orgasm building, a pressure that grew with every thrust.

"H-Harder," he mumbled, his voice thick with pleasure. "P-Please, baby, harder."

You smile grew as you complied, your hips moving faster, more forcefully. The sound of your bodies slapping together filled the room, a symphony of passion that seemed to resonate in his very soul. Yeosang's eyes rolled back in his head as he lost himself in the sensation. He had never felt so alive, so wanted.

Whimpers and gasps escaped his lips as you pushed him closer and closer to the edge. He could feel every inch of you, the velvety softness of the dildo, the firmness of your thighs against his, the warmth of your breath on his neck. It was too much, and yet not enough.

"Oh god," he moaned, his hips bucking wildly. "It feels s-so good."

You leaned down, your breasts pressing against his chest, your breath hot in his ear. "You like it?" you whispered, your voice a seductive purr.

"Y-Yes," he whined, his voice high and needy. "I-I love it."

The words seemed to spur you on, your movements growing more erratic, more demanding. Yeosang could feel the tension coiling in his stomach, tightening like a spring ready to snap. He clutched at you, his nails digging into your flesh as he tried to hold on, to savor every moment of this newfound ecstasy.

And then it washed over him, a wave of pleasure so intense it was almost painful. He cried out, his body arching off the bed as he came, spilling his release between you. You didn't stop, your movements growing more frantic as you chased your own climax.

When you finally reached it, you collapsed on top of him, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You lay there, panting and sweaty, your hearts racing in time with one another's. Yeosang felt a sense of euphoria that was almost unbearable, his body still pulsing with the aftershocks of pleasure.

As you lay there, tangled in the sheets, you propped yourself up on one elbow, looking down at him with a glow in your eyes. "I knew you'd like it," you said, your voice filled with satisfaction.

He couldn't help but laugh, the sound muffled by the pillow beneath his head. "How could I not?" he replied, his voice still shaky. "It was... amazing."

You shared a smile, one that was filled with a newfound understanding, a deeper connection that transcended words. It was in that moment that Yeosang knew your relationship had reached a new level, one that was built on trust, love, and a willingness to explore the depths of your desires together.

The light-wood door swung open just before Taehyung’s second, more determined knock could land. And in that instant, the world stopped for him.

Framed in the doorway stood one of the women from the photographs, but the pictures hadn’t done her justice. She was the younger one, twenty-nine, with toasted-sugar brown hair that fell in soft waves over her shoulders. Her features were a work of art: delicate yet strong, naturally rosy lips curved in a shy but welcoming smile. And then there were those eyes, green like a forest after rain, watching him with gentle curiosity. But what stole his breath completely were the freckles: a scattering of golden constellations across the bridge of her nose and cheekbones. He could have sworn he was looking at an angel who had decided to take on a touch of the earthly.

She wore a soft mint-green silk pajama set: shorts that revealed slender legs and an oversized button-up shirt. Over it, a matching robe so long it brushed her ankles floated around her with ethereal grace.

Taehyung swallowed hard; every rehearsed word evaporated from his mind. The bouquet of hydrangeas and white jasmine in one hand suddenly felt pathetic, and the heavy basket of fruit, cider, and cheeses in the other seemed like a desperate plea.

“Hi,” her voice came, melodic and soothing as a brook. “Sorry about the outfit; I didn’t expect you to be so punctual. You’re the boy who booked tonight, right?”

Taehyung opened his mouth; only a strangled little sound escaped. He nodded vigorously, heat crawling up his neck. “Y-yes. That’s me.”

Her smile widened, reaching those green eyes that seemed to see right through him. “Great. Come in, come in, please. It’s a pleasure to have you here.” Her gaze dropped to the bouquet and basket, and a soft laugh slipped from her lips. “Oh, is all of that for us? How sweet. What’s your name, cutie?”

“Taehyung,” he managed, offering the gifts like talismans. “And… this is for you both. I didn’t know what to bring.”

She accepted the flowers and basket with innate elegance, stepping aside so he could pass. “I’m Averly. My partner, Cielle, is in the living room. It’s lovely to meet you, Taehyung. Your name is beautiful.”

Crossing the threshold, Taehyung was enveloped in a warmth that wasn’t just temperature. The apartment smelled of vanilla and freshly extinguished candles. The lighting was low and golden, creating an atmosphere of intimacy and peace that made him feel, for the first time in weeks, like he could finally exhale.

Averly closed the door softly and led him into a spacious, cozy living room where plush cushions and soft blankets invited surrender. There, on a large sofa, sat the other woman—Cielle. Her jet-black hair was gathered in a careless bun, and her almond eyes radiated deep serenity. She wore a loose plum-colored silk kimono.

“Cielle, this is Taehyung,” Averly introduced, placing the flowers in a vase and the basket on the coffee table. “And he brought us these wonders.”

Cielle smiled—a smile that lacked Averly’s exuberance but conveyed instant calm and acceptance. “Welcome, Taehyung. Thank you for your generosity.”

Taehyung sat where Averly indicated, right in the center of the sofa, feeling like a ship adrift finally finding harbor. The two women took their places on either side of him—not invading his space, but forming an intimate circle around him.

“In your message,” Averly began, her voice as soft as the silk she wore, “you said you weren’t looking for… intensity. Just comfort. Right, sweetheart?”

Taehyung dropped his gaze, fidgeting with his fingers. “Yes. My best friend… she passed away a month ago.” The confession came out a whisper. “I miss her so much. Her voice, her hugs, the way she used to stroking my hair when I was sad… I crave someone’s touch. Praise. That… warmth.”

A small, long-fingered hand—Averly’s—settled over his. At the same time, Cielle placed hers on his back, drawing slow, soothing circles through his shirt.

“We understand completely,” Cielle murmured. Her voice was deeper—a cello to Averly’s violin. “It’s an honor that you trusted us to give you that. You don’t have to do anything, Taehyung. Just let yourself feel.”

Averly leaned in a little, her green eyes filled with a compassion that broke his heart into a thousand pieces. “You can close your eyes if you want, love. We’ll take care of you.”

Taehyung nodded, unable to speak, and let his eyelids fall. The world shrank to sensations: the soft brush of Averly’s silk robe against his arm, the firm, calming pressure of Cielle’s hand on his back, the scent of jasmine now filling the room.

“You’re so brave for coming here,” Averly whispered close to his ear, her breath warm and fragrant. “And so good. Bringing flowers and such a thoughtful basket… that speaks of a beautiful heart.”

Cielle, from the other side, pressed her lips to his temple. “Let go of the tension, Taehyung. You’re safe here. With us. You’re our good boy tonight, okay? And good boys deserve cuddles.”

The word “cuddles,” spoken with that mix of tenderness and certainty, sent a shiver of relief down his spine. He felt Averly begin to stroke his hair, her fingers threading through the strands with infinite gentleness, while Cielle kept drawing circles on his back, slowly descending to knead the knots in his shoulders.

It was a subtle domination—the domination of care, of absolute surrender. They were taking control of his comfort, guiding him into a state of peace where he didn’t have to think, decide, or remember his pain. Just receive.

“You’re so tense,” Cielle murmured. “Let us ease it.”

Averly, with slow, deliberate movements, cupped his face in her hands. Her thumbs brushed his cheekbones, and those devastatingly compassionate green eyes locked on his. “You can cry if you need to, darling. There’s no shame here.”

And then, as if a dam had broken, the tears Taehyung had held back since knocking began to flow silently. They weren’t sobs of uncontrolled anguish, but a deep release—the pain finally allowed to surface because it was cradled in the warmth he’d desperately craved.

Averly wiped his tears with her fingertips, her own freckles seeming to glow brighter in the dim light. “There we go,” she whispered, as if praising him. “That’s it.”

She leaned in and placed a kiss as soft as a butterfly’s wing on each closed eyelid. Then another on the tip of his nose. Cielle, meanwhile, rested her forehead against his temple, sharing her breath, her stillness.

It was the feminine comfort he had longed for. Touch, praise, warm kisses and caresses. And the subtle, unquestionable domination of being cared for—of surrendering to the care of two angels in mint and plum silk who, for one night, were saving him from the darkness with the simple, powerful magic of their presence.

And Taehyung, for the first time in a long while, felt truly at home.

The soft whistle of the kettle from the kitchen momentarily broke the spell. Cielle glanced toward the sound, then back at Taehyung, whose expression was fragile crystal after the release of emotion. “Averly, love,” she said, her voice leaving no room for doubt, “could you make us some chamomile tea with honey, please?”

The understanding look between them was instant. Averly, with a conspiratorial smile aimed at Taehyung, rose with her ethereal grace. “Of course. Be right back.” Her hand brushed his shoulder as she passed—a tacit promise of return.

They were alone. The silence wasn’t awkward, but it was heavy with the vulnerability Taehyung had just shown. Cielle, unhurried, turned to him. Her gaze was serene—a quiet lagoon after the storm.

“Taehyung,” she began, her voice a velvety whisper. Her hands, which had been on his back, slid forward to find his, resting inert on his thighs. “Your hands… they’re so beautiful.” She took them gently, lifting them so they could both see. “Long, artistic fingers… but so cold.”

Taehyung watched, almost as if they weren’t his own, as Cielle’s smaller yet steadily strong hands enveloped his. Her skin was soft, but her touch was firm, sure.

Moved by impulse, he turned his palms to lace his fingers with hers. The contact was electrifying in its simplicity—an anchor in the sea of his confusion. With the back of his free hand, he hurriedly wiped the last tears staining his cheeks.

Cielle leaned closer, the scent of plum and silk enveloping him. “I like you like this,” she whispered, her warm breath grazing his skin. Her free fingers ventured to trace the sensitive shell of his ear, teasing the skin there. The simple touch sent a fresh shiver down his spine. “So surrendered, so honest with what you feel.” Her tone was sweet, but there was intent behind it—a seeking. “I want to know more about you tonight. So I can give you exactly what you need. Will you help me, little piece of heaven?”

Taehyung could only nod, his voice still trapped in a knot of emotion, his energy draining yet slowly being replaced by nervous curiosity.

Cielle continued, fingers still circling his ear. “Tell me, my angel… when you think about feeling good, about forgetting everything… do you like things rough? Or always soft, like now?”

Taehyung blinked; the direct question delivered with such tenderness caught him off guard. “I… I hate pain,” he managed, his voice hoarse from crying. “I hate it.”

Cielle nodded, as if mentally filing the information in bold capitals. “Good. Soft, then. Loving.” Her next question was even more intimate, delivered with disarming naturalness. “And oral or penetrative? Do you have a preference for receiving pleasure?”

Taehyung shrugged slightly, blush returning to his cheeks. “I… I don’t know. I just want to feel good. For tonight to take me far away from everything.” It was an honest confession—from someone not seeking a specific act, but an experience, a balm.

Cielle seemed to understand perfectly. With a fluid motion, she cradled him against her body, adjusting so his head rested in the hollow of her shoulder. The silk kimono was cool against his cheek. “Shhh, it’s okay,” she murmured, pressing a long, reassuring kiss to his forehead. “You don’t have to know everything. We guide. You just feel.”

As she gently rocked him, her voice took on a slightly more formal yet still loving tone—the tone of someone setting the rules of a game that guaranteed everyone’s safety.

“Now, Taehyung, listen for a moment—it’s important.” Her hand stroked his hair. “First: boundaries. They’re sacred. Communication is everything. If you like something, tell us. If you want to stop, just say ‘stop’ or ‘red.’ We’ll do the same. Okay?”

“Yes,” he whispered, feeling strange relief at the clear rules. “No problem.”

“Second: sounds. We want to hear you. Sighs, moans… they’re music to us. But strong cursing isn’t our thing. Pleasure can be polite, right?”

Taehyung nodded against her shoulder. “Yes, I understand.”

“Third, and this is crucial: protection. We always take care of it. We don’t allow anyone to finish inside us, for safety. But…” she added, and he could almost feel the smile in her voice, “there are other places where it’s allowed, if you wish. And fourth, if at any point you feel like using a toy, a vibrator, just say so. We’re open.”

She paused briefly, her tone turning absolutely firm. “And fifth: twisted fetishes, pain, humiliation… they’re not welcome here. Our service is ‘vanilla,’ as some call it. Simple, consensual, loving pleasure. That’s why you sought us out, isn’t it?”

Taehyung opened his eyes and looked up at her. For the first time since arriving, a genuine—though small—smile appeared on his lips.

“Yes,” he said, with more conviction. “That’s why I looked for you.”

At that exact moment, Averly returned carrying a tray with three steaming cups of tea. Her gaze landed on them—on the way Taehyung was wrapped in Cielle’s embrace—and her smile filled with satisfied warmth.

“Looks like you two were having a nice chat,” she commented, setting the tray down. The scent of chamomile mingled with jasmine and plum. Cielle looked at Taehyung, her eyes saying, See? You’re in good hands.

Vanilla sex, Taehyung thought as he accepted a cup from Averly, had never sounded so exotic, so safe, and so profoundly desirable. For the first time in a long while, the immediate future—the next few hours—looked full of promise, warmth, and oblivion rather than emptiness. And he was ready to surrender to it.

The fine porcelain cup felt warm between Taehyung’s hands. He took a sip of the chamomile tea; its gentle sweetness soothed his throat, raw from silent crying. As he drank, he could feel Cielle’s gaze on him—not scrutiny, but deep appreciation, as if she were memorizing every feature of his face under the dim light.

“Taehyung,” Averly interjected, her voice an audible caress. She had sat across from him, her green eyes fixed on his. “So you’re completely comfortable… where would you like it to happen? Here on the sofa, or would you prefer the bed? It’s bigger and softer.”

Taehyung didn’t hesitate. “The bed, please,” he answered, his voice a little steadier. “I want… to feel comfortable.” And in that context, “comfortable” meant sinking, disappearing into the promise of soft sheets and a space made specifically for solace.

As he took the last sip of his tea, Cielle rose gracefully. She extended her hand toward him—a silent, powerful offer. Without a word, Taehyung set his empty cup on the tray and took the offered hand. It was cool and firm, a reassuring contrast to the heat beginning to simmer inside him.

She led him down a short hallway lit by ambient light. The walls weren’t bare; they were adorned with a series of paintings and drawings that immediately caught Taehyung’s attention. Some were anatomical studies of female bodies, confident lines capturing the curve of a back, the softness of a thigh, with a blend of academic technique and deep sensitivity. Others were dreamlike landscapes—misty forests and star-filled skies that seemed to reflect a rich, complex inner world.

Cielle, sensing his pace slow behind her, glanced over her shoulder. “Averly is about to graduate from Fine Arts, specializing in drawing,” she explained with subtle pride. “All of this is her work.”

Taehyung nodded, mesmerized by the raw, dreamy beauty of the pieces. It added a new layer of depth to Averly—she was more than an ethereal beauty; she was a creator.

They reached the end of the hallway and a closed wooden door. Cielle opened it and stepped aside so Taehyung could see.

The bedroom was a sanctuary. A king-size bed dominated the space, dressed in sheets the deep blue of a night sky. On the far wall, above an imposing but unlit fireplace, hung a large painting: two nude women entwined in sensual play, their bodies rendered by the same skilled hand that had created the hallway drawings. Unlit scented candles waited on nightstands beside stacks of fluffy towels, black silk blindfolds promising gentle restraint, and pillows of every shape. His gaze, however, inevitably landed on the nightstand: a crystal bowl filled to the brim with condoms of every size, flavor, and color—an overwhelming yet practical display.

Cielle positioned herself in front of him. Though Taehyung was tall, she somehow rose to exactly the height of his lips, her dark eyes level with his.

“We’ll give you a few minutes,” she said, her voice a whisper that seemed to vibrate in the still air of the room. “To get ready, breathe, and get used to the space. In a little while, Averly and I will come back to start our adventure.”

Taehyung nodded, a knot of nerves and anticipation in his stomach. He stepped into the room and heard the door close behind him with a soft click.

For a moment he stood still, absorbing the tranquility of the place. His gaze traveled over the fireplace, the painting of the women—now feeling like a direct promise—and the bed that called to him. A sudden need to ground himself led him to pull his pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He lit one with barely trembling hands and, remembering the delicate scents of the apartment, headed to the adjoining bathroom he’d noticed.

The bathroom was immaculate. There, beside the sink, was a small designer ashtray—not an afterthought, but placed deliberately next to bottles of lube, wet wipes, and even a little box of mints. The level of detail left him breathless. They thought of everything.

Leaning against the sink, he exhaled the smoke slowly. Nerves pulsed in his veins, but above them rose a growing excitement, a heat spreading from his chest. He wasn’t lying—Averly and Cielle were stunning. Even in their loose pajamas and robes, their beauty was a tangible, intelligent, empathetic force.

An absurd fear crossed his mind: what if he, with his clumsy grief and simple needs, shattered the perfect harmony they embodied? But then he remembered their voices, their hands, their gazes full of an acceptance he hadn’t found anywhere else since his friend’s death.

He stubbed out the cigarette, rinsed his mouth with water, and took one of the mints. As he left the bathroom, his decision was made. He wouldn’t break anything. He would surrender. He would let these two angels of comfort and desire carry him to a place where, for one night, pain didn’t exist—only touch, praise, and the warm, subtle domination of their care.

He sat on the edge of the bed, waiting, and for the first time, the wait wasn’t filled with anxiety but with a sweet, throbbing anticipation.

A soft knock on the door echoed in the charged silence of the room. Taehyung, just out of the bathroom, shivered slightly before crossing the room and opening the door.

Outside, framed in the hallway’s light, stood Cielle and Averly. They were no longer the same women from the living room. A subtle but palpable transformation had occurred. Averly had removed her robe, revealing the mint silk set clinging temptingly to her curves. Cielle, her plum kimono still tied, radiated a serenity now charged with intent. Their gazes, once purely comforting, now shone with a different, deeper, more focused warmth.

Cielle spoke first, her voice a thread of silk slipping into the room. “Are you ready, angel?”

Taehyung felt every word evaporate. His mind, so often racing with anxiety and grief, was now a blank page. He could only nod, and a small “yes,” almost a whisper, escaped his lips.

That was the invitation they had been waiting for. They entered with a fluidity that seemed choreographed, and the door closed behind them, sealing the space into their private bubble. The air smelled of cleanliness, unlit candles, and anticipation.

Guided by a look from Cielle, Taehyung obediently sat on the edge of the bed. They settled on either side of him, their bodies creating a comforting warmth that enveloped him. The caresses began immediately—not as an invasion, but as a gentle rain slowly soaking him.

Averly traced circles on his arm with her fingertips, while Cielle’s hand rested on his thigh, a firm and reassuring pressure. Taehyung kept his own hands on his legs, fists lightly clenched, feeling too vulnerable, too overwhelmed by the generosity of their touch to dare return it.

Their voices wove around him like a cocoon. “You’re so tense, gorgeous,” Averly whispered near his ear, her warm breath making him shiver.

“Let us take care of it,” Cielle added from the other side, her face drawing closer. “Just close your eyes and feel.”

Taehyung obeyed. He surrendered. And that was when the dynamic shifted. He felt Averly’s hand descend, resting on the fabric of his pants right over his crotch. The pressure was light, inquisitive, but enough to draw a deep sigh from him—a sound heavy with a need he had ignored.

Cielle, seeing the surrender on his face, leaned in until her lips were a breath away.

“Tell me, Taehyung,” she murmured, her voice spilling honey. “Do you like kisses? Do you crave being kissed?”

The question—so direct yet delivered with such sweetness—shattered the last of his resistance. He nodded, almost desperately, an intense blush lighting his cheeks. It was the confirmation Cielle needed. Without hurry but without pause, she closed the distance and captured his lips in a kiss.

It wasn’t a simple brush. It was a deep, slow, exploratory kiss. A kiss that tasted of comfort and promise, of chamomile and mint. Taehyung melted into it, losing track of everything else. His hands finally moved, clinging to Cielle’s shoulders like a lifeline.

While he was lost in Cielle’s taste and sensation, Averly, kneeling in front of him, got to work. Her skilled fingers unbuttoned his pants with gentle efficiency. When the fabric gave way, his member—half-erect and throbbing with growing arousal—was exposed.

“Oh, what a beauty,” Averly murmured, her voice full of genuine admiration. It didn’t sound fake or exaggerated. “So big and so pretty.” She didn’t wait for a reply.

She leaned in and placed a kiss as soft as a butterfly’s wing on the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, then another closer, and another, until finally, with a devotion that broke Taehyung’s heart, she placed a tender kiss on the tip of his cock.

The atmosphere in the room had transformed. It was no longer just a sanctuary of comfort but a space where pleasure was igniting, fueled by two women who cared for him with absolute mastery.

Cielle devoured him with breath-stealing kisses, and Averly began consecrating him from below, turning his pain into a low, muffled moan lost in Cielle’s mouth. It was the beginning of the promised escape, and Taehyung was melting into it.

The sound of kisses was a wet, syncopated rhythm filling the room. Taehyung, intoxicated by the sensations, began to lose inhibition. One of his hands rose and sank into Averly’s soft, wavy brown hair as she worked tirelessly between his legs. It wasn’t a gesture of control but of gratitude, of anchoring. His other hand, bolder, found Cielle’s hip, still sealing her lips to his. His palm traced the generous curve of her body, descending to the circumference of her full, firm ass.

The silk of the kimono yielded under his grip, and Taehyung planted his hand there, feeling the heat of her skin through the fabric. He was no longer a passive vessel; he was gaining confidence, timidly returning the intensity he received.

Averly pulled back for a moment, her breathing ragged. With deliberate movements, she undid the last buttons of her mint silk shirt and let it slip from her shoulders. Her firm, generous breasts were almost fully revealed, barely held by the delicate fabric of her bra. She leaned forward, allowing the soft skin of her breasts to brush against Taehyung’s now fully erect and throbbing cock. The contact was electric, a velvety friction that tore a gasp from him. Averly looked up at him from below, her green eyes clouded with desire, craving his kiss too.

Cielle broke from his lips with a glistening thread of saliva that shone for an instant before breaking.

“Take off your shirt, handsome,” she asked with a sweetness that brooked no refusal. “We want to feel your skin.”

Taehyung, fingers trembling slightly, obeyed. He pulled the garment off, revealing his torso. The room’s light caressed his skin, highlighting the fruits of his gym discipline: toned arms, a broad chest, and a defined abdomen, though not without the humanity of a soft midline.

Averly, upon seeing him, climbed onto the bed to capture his lips in a hungry kiss while her hand continued its expert work between his legs. Seizing the moment, Cielle rose fluidly.

With a single elegant motion, she let the plum kimono fall to the floor. Beneath it, she wore only matching silk panties. Her body was a celebration of curves: generous, rounded breasts, a soft, adorable swell in her lower belly that spoke of femininity and realism, and wide, powerful hips tapering into sculpted thighs. She was, simply, a queen.

As Averly broke from his mouth to plant a constellation of burning kisses along his neck, Cielle settled beside him. Her cool, confident hands began a slow journey of appreciation across his body.

“You’re so beautiful,” Cielle murmured, her fingers tracing the line of his collarbones. “So strong…” Her palm slid over his bicep, feeling the muscle tension. Then down to his chest, feeling the racing beat of his heart beneath her hand. “And so sensitive…” Her fingers continued their journey, across his clenched abdomen, until finally reaching his groin. But she didn’t focus on his cock; instead, with exquisite delicacy, she began to gently caress and massage his balls.

The sensation—new and intensely pleasurable—tore a deep, guttural moan from Taehyung, a sound that rose from the depths of his being.

“That’s it, gorgeous,” Averly encouraged against his neck, her own hand slightly quickening its rhythm on his cock. “You sound so good. Your skin is so soft…”

Taehyung was lost, overwhelmed and completely surrendered. The pain, the grief, the outside world—all dissolved under their expert touch and whispered praise.

It was then, as Averly toyed with one of his nipples with her free fingers, that she asked in that voice both soft and authoritative: “Lie back on the bed for us, gorgeous.”

Without hesitation, with an obedience born of the purest trust and desire, Taehyung reclined, sinking into the blue sheets. His body was now entirely at their disposal—a canvas ready for them to paint the night of pleasure and oblivion he so desperately needed.

The first to claim his attention was Cielle, who slid beside him on the bed, her naked body brushing his. She captured his lips in another deep kiss while her expert, soft hand resumed its slow, deliberate stroking. Taehyung, now incredibly sensitive to every touch, responded with renewed urgency. His own hands roamed Cielle’s back, and his hungry lips strayed from her mouth to find the soft skin of her neck, planting wet, panting kisses.

While this happened, Averly completed her transformation. With a fluid motion, she pulled the silk shirt over her head, revealing a slender, athletic body. Her breasts—not as large as Cielle’s—were firm and perfect, crowned with erect nipples. Her abdomen was flat and toned, with pronounced collarbones that accentuated her natural elegance. When she released the tie holding her hair, a cascade of brown curls fell over her shoulders, framing an angelic face now burning with desire. Finally, she slipped out of her panties, becoming the first to be completely naked.

“Look what you do to me, prince,” Averly murmured, voice thick with provocation, showing him the soaked fabric of her underwear before letting it fall. “You have me this wet, and we’ve barely started.”

She slid onto the other side of the bed, her bare skin meeting his. She captured his face and drew him into a passionate kiss while her fingers toyed with one of his nipples, lightly scraping it with her nails. The sharp, electric sensation made Taehyung break from the kiss with a muffled moan, burying his face in Averly’s neck as his body arched slightly.

“See?” Averly teased, laughing softly while stroking his hair. “You’re so sensitive, gorgeous. Every part of you tells us what it likes.”

While Taehyung recovered from the sensory overload, Cielle, with deliberate movements, removed the rest of his clothing: his pants, already down to his thighs. Now he lay completely naked and vulnerable between them, skin against skin, his arousal palpable in the charged air.

Cielle then moved, kneeling between his legs. With a smile full of promise and desire, she leaned over his cock, which lay fully erect and throbbing against his abdomen.

“I’m going to taste you, little piece of heaven,” she whispered, her hot breath making him shiver.

She placed a tender kiss on the tip, savoring the sensitive skin. Then, with agonizing slowness, she began sliding her lips over the head, opening her mouth to accommodate his thick shaft. It took effort—a delicious struggle that made her jaw muscles tense—but she managed, and the sensation of her warm, wet, tight mouth enveloping him was absolutely magnificent.

A long, guttural moan escaped Taehyung’s lips. “God… Cielle…”

Averly, watching from the side, bit her lower lip in approval. “Impressive, isn’t it, Cielle? Other clients don’t have this thickness,” she commented, her hand stroking Taehyung’s thigh. “We’re definitely going to have a lot of fun tonight.”

Taehyung could no longer think. He was being devoured by sensations: Cielle’s expert mouth sucking him with hungry determination, Averly’s kisses and caresses on his neck and chest, the whispered praise feeding his ego and desire. It was a whirlwind of pleasure, and he was surrendering completely, knowing he was in the most capable and loving hands imaginable.

The scene was a painting of pure surrender. Averly, despite her smaller stature beside his imposing figure, was an unstoppable force. Her mouth, as skilled as Cielle’s, now worked in sync with her partner. Taehyung’s broad, toned chest rose and fell with increasingly deep, panting breaths. Averly’s hand never stopped playing with his nipples, pinching and caressing them with precision that drove him wild.

His Adam’s apple danced in his throat, a physical testament to the struggle to hold back what was coming. Averly leaned in from time to time to kiss him, her lips brushing his in wet promises. “You’re doing so well,” she whispered against the corner of his mouth, her voice a thread of hot silk. “So obedient for us… so perfect.”

While Cielle worshipped his cock with near-religious devotion. Long strands of saliva glistened between her lips and his skin, and Taehyung’s hips had begun to move involuntarily, gently thrusting, seeking more depth, more friction. He knew, with a certainty that both terrified and excited him, that he was on the edge of the precipice.

“I’m going to… I’m going to come,” he managed to moan, his voice broken by gasps, a desperate warning amid the whirlwind.

Averly, hearing him, pulled back from his lips with eyes shining with excitement. “I want to taste,” she announced, moving swiftly to straddle his lap, right in front of Cielle.

Cielle, understanding, slid her mouth off his cock with an audible, wet pop, yielding the main spot to Averly. As Averly dove for the tip, eager for the reward, Cielle turned her gaze to Taehyung. His face was turned toward the ceiling, eyes squeezed shut, fists clutching the blue sheets. A continuous, guttural moan poured from his throat. He was completely lost, going mad among the pillows, and the sight was, for Cielle, as satisfying as the act itself.

Both women then focused on the final goal. Averly concentrated on the head, licking and sucking the tip with fervent urgency, while Cielle lowered her head to kiss and caress his balls with a tenderness that contrasted with the intensity of the moment. The climax was inevitable, cataclysmic. A choked cry tore from Taehyung’s throat as his body arched, rigid, beyond his control.

The first explosion of his essence—white and warm—splattered Averly’s lips, which received the wave with an approving moan, greedily tasting it. More strands followed, painting Cielle’s chin and cheeks as well; she didn’t flinch, continuing her slow, meticulous cleaning with her tongue, drinking every drop Averly couldn’t catch.

Taehyung trembled from head to toe, the spasms of his orgasm stretching in waves of pure pleasure and release. When the last shudder finally left him, he collapsed onto the mattress like dead weight, panting, covered in a fine sheen of sweat and his mind blank.

Averly pulled back first, licking her lips with delight. “God, so delicious,” she praised, her voice hoarse. Her gaze met Cielle’s, who was still cleaning Taehyung’s now-sensitive cock with final devotion. Cielle, after one last soft kiss to his tender skin, straightened. Their stained, glistening faces looked at each other. A conspiratorial, warm smile spread across both. They leaned in and shared a slow, deep kiss—a kiss that tasted of him, of their shared essence, of the victory of having brought him to such ecstasy.

“Mmm, you’re right,” Cielle murmured against Averly’s lips before pulling away and wiping the rest of his essence from her own lips with her fingertips. “Exquisite taste.”

While Taehyung lay there, catching his breath and immersed in absolute placidity, they curled up on either side of him, their naked bodies snuggling against his. There was no rush, no expectation. Only the satisfied calm after the storm, comfort and pleasure fulfilling their promise. The night was young, and the comfort Taehyung sought had turned out to be deeper and more healing than he could ever have imagined.

Taehyung’s world was a placid, cottony haze. Cielle’s fingers caressed his face, tracing his jawline with a tenderness that made him want to melt. From the other side, Averly gently drew him toward her chest, offering the soft cushion of her breasts and the calming rhythm of her heartbeat. It was a refuge, a harbor after the intense sensory whirlwind.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Cielle’s voice was a whisper near his ear, as soft as her touch.

Taehyung tried to articulate something—a word, a sound—but his mind was blank, erased by orgasm and emotional overload. He only let out a faint whimper, a sound of pure exhausted satisfaction.

Averly pressed a long, loving kiss to his temple. “Shhh, it’s okay. You don’t need to talk.”

Cielle kept eye contact, her dark eyes reading the serenity on his face. “It’s still early, gorgeous,” she reminded softly, and Taehyung felt a slight shiver of disbelief.

Still?

He already felt complete, drained, as if he’d run a marathon. Then it hit him: everything, absolutely everything, had been for him. They, in their glorious nudity and serene energy, had received nothing in return yet.

As if reading his mind, Cielle added, stroking his hair: “And don’t worry about us. Don’t stress thinking you have to please us. Our pleasure comes from seeing you like this, from giving you this. Watching your surrender is our pleasure.”

The words calmed him, dissolving a seed of anxiety he hadn’t known was there. There was no pressure, only a constant flow of giving and receiving that they controlled masterfully.

It was then that Averly, with a sweetness that didn’t hide her intent, murmured against his skin: “Tell me, my good boy… would you like me to ride you? Do you want to feel me on top?”

The image—clear and tempting—ignited a new spark of desire inside him, surprisingly fast despite his exhaustion. He nodded almost immediately, a small but full-of-consent movement.

Averly sat up with a radiant smile. Her soft but sure hands reached down to grasp his cock, which was already responding with renewed interest under her expert touch, preparing him for what was to come.

While Averly positioned herself, Cielle leaned over him to seal his lips with another deep, reassuring kiss. “Touch me, Taehyung,” she whispered between kisses, her voice another caress. “I want to feel your hands on me.”

“Where?” he managed to ask, voice hoarse.

“Wherever you want, darling. Wherever you like most.” Cielle adjusted, sliding further onto his body, offering herself. Taehyung, guided by renewed instinct, raised a hand. One palm settled on the soft, firm curve of the older woman’s ass—a perfect handful of flesh and silk. The other hand found Averly’s hip as she hovered above him, ready to descend. The contrast was intoxicating: the voluptuous softness of Cielle under his right hand, the slender strength of Averly under his left.

He was being enveloped, possessed and possessing at the same time. And as Averly began to sink down, guiding him into her wet warmth with a deep moan of pleasure, Taehyung knew this night of comfort was far from over, and he was willing to lose himself in them as many times as necessary.

A long, trembling moan escaped Averly’s lips as the tip of Taehyung’s cock brushed her entrance, wet and eager. “God… it’s so thick,” she gasped, her green eyes clouded with a pleasure that was almost sweet pain. As she settled, feeling her body open to take him, Cielle watched with burning tenderness. She longed to sit on his face, to feel his tongue inside her, but she held back her own desires. She didn’t want to overstimulate her “teddy bear,” as she had begun to call him in her mind. His delicacy, his submission, was a rare treasure.

Never, in all their years offering this service, had they met a man like Taehyung. The others usually arrived in a hurry, rough, trying to prove empty dominance. But he… he was gentle. Submissive in a way that wasn’t submission but surrender. His skin smelled of jasmine and something essentially him—a clean, masculine scent that enveloped them.

Cielle, seeing Taehyung bite his lower lip in ecstasy, leaned in. “Do you like to lick, sweetheart?” she asked, her voice a whisper full of promise.

“Yes,” he pleaded, voice hoarse from moans. “Please.”

A smile spread across Cielle’s lips. She brought two fingers to Taehyung’s mouth, sliding them over his wet, warm tongue. He sucked instinctively, eyes closed, lost in the sensation and in Averly’s increasingly deep movements on top of him.

“How do you feel, Averly?” Cielle asked, her gaze fixed on Taehyung’s face.

“Like heaven,” Averly gasped, her hips finding a slow, sensual rhythm. “He fills everything… it’s perfect.”

Taehyung was on the edge again; the feeling of Averly, so tight and warm around him, was overwhelming.

Cielle withdrew her fingers, glistening with saliva, and without warning ran them over one of her own nipples, coating it in wetness. The cool sensation and the lewd act itself drew a deep moan from Taehyung, lost in the duality of their attention.

Then Cielle captured his lips again in a kiss, but this time her tongue danced with his, a wet, slow dance that mimicked the rhythm Averly was setting on his lap. Averly, meanwhile, toyed with her own breasts, pinching her nipples as her body adjusted and moved over his.

After a few minutes of overlapping moans and gasps, Averly announced in a voice broken by pleasure: “I’m going to… I’m going to move faster, darling.”

Her first decisive movement was a firm descent that tore a cry from both of them. The glory was complete, a circuit of pleasure connecting all three.

Taehyung, with his mouth now eager to taste something, to have another anchor point, groped blindly. Cielle understood instantly. She rearranged herself among the pillows, bringing her breast to his face.

“Come here, my prince,” she murmured, guiding his head. “You deserve it. Suck as much as you want.”

Taehyung didn’t need to be told twice. With one arm he pulled her closer, and his mouth found her nipple. Cielle let out a high, clear moan—his name, “Taehyung…”—when his hungry mouth closed around her. He closed his eyes, an intense blush covering his cheeks as he sucked with the desperate need of a newborn, feeling the soft, warm weight of her breast against his face.

Cielle stroked his hair, her praise a soft mantra. “That’s it, very good… my good boy, my little cupcake, you’re behaving so well.” The delicate necklace she wore swayed gently, sometimes brushing Taehyung’s forehead, adding a cool sensation to his worship.

While he lost himself in Cielle’s breast, his other hand sought and found Averly’s, who continued moving over him with hypnotic cadence. Their fingers intertwined—a gesture of support and connection that sealed the triangle of intimacy. Taehyung was at the center, being ridden, adored, and held, completely surrendered to the comfort and pleasure these two wise women offered him.

Averly’s rhythm had grown more energetic, her hips slamming with a force that echoed in the silence broken only by moans. “I want it too…,” Averly gasped, her gaze seeking her partner’s. Cielle leaned in, and their lips met in a deep, salty kiss—a sensual counterpoint to the movement Averly imprinted on Taehyung’s lap.

The combination was overwhelming. The lesbian kiss before his eyes, the constant, increasingly powerful impact of Averly inside him, and the pleasurable suffocation against Cielle’s breast finally made Taehyung release the nipple with a long, broken moan.

Small, warm tears of pure ecstasy began to escape from his closed eyes, tracing his flushed cheeks.

It was at that moment, as her gaze traveled over Taehyung and Averly’s entwined bodies, that Cielle noticed the flash of bare skin. A crucial detail had been overlooked in the heat of the moment. “Averly, wait, stop for a second, love,” Cielle said, her voice firm but calm, gently stopping her partner’s hip with one hand.

Averly stopped instantly, panting, her face a mask of confusion and frustrated desire. Cielle slipped off the bed and headed to the nightstand. Her gaze quickly scanned the crystal bowl before selecting one of the largest condoms they had. Meanwhile, Averly, understanding the situation, leaned over Taehyung, who was now trembling and crying softly, overwhelmed by the intensity and the interruption.

“Shhh, it’s okay, darling,” Averly murmured, wrapping him in her arms. She kissed his tears, stroked his sweaty hair, and whispered in his ear: “You’re so good for us, so incredible. Just a moment, my doll. Everything’s fine.”

Taehyung clung to her, burying his face in her neck, while Cielle returned with the condom. With a delicacy that contrasted with the passion-charged scene, Cielle took his still-throbbing, wet cock. Before rolling on the condom, she leaned down and spat into her hand, using the saliva to lubricate him further, easing the task. Even so, the latex looked clearly stretched, confirming her initial impression: Taehyung had an exceptionally thick cock.

“Ready,” Cielle announced softly, helping Averly guide him back to her entrance. As Averly sank down, Cielle gently stroked Taehyung’s balls—a caress of encouragement and possession. When movement resumed, the connection between Taehyung and Averly was instant and even deeper. Their gazes locked. Averly, driven by the rawness of the moment and the intensity of penetration, let out a forbidden tease, her words vibrating with each thrust.

“God, beautiful… you make me feel things…,” she gasped, clinging to his shoulders. “I can even imagine how it would feel… to have your children. They’d be so beautiful…”

Her words—so full of taboo and fantasy—electrified the air. Taehyung, intoxicated by the confession, gripped her tighter, digging his fingers into her slim hips and responding to her movements with his own, more urgent now.

While the couple lost themselves in their spiral of moans and sweat, Cielle, far from feeling excluded, found her own pleasure in the spectacle. She slipped off her soaked panties—the last barrier—and lay on one side of the bed in a pose of pure, beautiful languor. Her hand descended to her sex, and she began touching herself with expert fingers, eyes fixed on the union of Taehyung and Averly, her breathing quickening to the rhythm of the bed’s thrusts and the symphony of carnal sounds filling the room. The trio had found a new balance, a crescendo of shared pleasure approaching its inevitable climax.

Suddenly, Averly stopped her frantic rhythm. She leaned in, her lips barely a centimeter from Taehyung’s, panting, her hot breath mingling with his. Then, with agonizing slowness, she lifted completely off him, abandoning the warm, wet embrace of her body. The sudden coolness of the air on his sensitive, on-the-verge cock tore a whimper of loss and frustration from him. Averly’s warmth had vanished, leaving a palpable void.

She stood beside the bed, looking at him with dark eyes full of a new kind of hunger. “I want you to eat me,” she declared, her voice hoarse with desire. “I need to feel that delicious tongue inside me.” Her eyes sought his, searching for confirmation.

“Will you do that for me, my baby boy?”

Taehyung, mind clouded and body screaming for relief, nodded fervently, almost desperately. “Yes… please.”

A triumphant, lascivious smile spread across Averly’s face. She turned to Cielle, who was touching herself with glassy eyes. “Your turn to enjoy, my love,” she said, voice thick with deep complicity.

Cielle, as if waking from a trance, rose. While Averly settled over Taehyung’s face, guiding her thighs to frame his head and gently squeezing his temples with her legs, Cielle slid onto his lap. Her curvy, soft body hovered over his.

Taehyung was in a whirlwind of sensations. His trembling hands didn’t know where to hold. One found Averly’s slim hip, now presiding over his face, and the other clung to Cielle’s generous hip as she positioned herself over his cock.

With a low, exquisite moan that vibrated through the air, Cielle sank down. She took all his thickness in one go, without hesitation, and the sensation of being inside her—so different from Averly yet equally electrifying—made all three cry out in a chorus of ecstasy.

Averly, now fully seated on his face, turned to look at Cielle. Their gazes met, a mirror of absolute pleasure. Averly rocked gently over Taehyung’s mouth, while Cielle, lost in her own trance, began moving on top of him, devouring every inch with hypnotic cadence.

Taehyung’s world shrank to a universe of sensations: the taste and texture of Averly filling his mouth, his nose buried in her soft pubic hair; the deep warmth and internal muscles of Cielle gripping and massaging him; the sound of their moans blending above him.

He was being used, adored, and consumed completely. At some point, amid that ecstasy, a voice—he wasn’t sure if Averly’s or Cielle’s—reached him like a whisper through the fog of pleasure: “How do you feel, my little one? Do you like it? Tell me you like it…”

Taehyung tried to articulate something—a word, a sound that did justice to what he was experiencing. But he couldn’t. There were no words in any language to describe this fusion, this total surrender, this feeling of being the altar where two goddesses offered and received pleasure. If ambrosia, the nectar of the gods, existed, it had to feel like this: a bliss that transcended the body and touched the soul.

And in that eloquent silence, filled with gasps, moans, and the universal language of pleasure, he gave his most honest answer.

A high-pitched squeal, followed by a series of broken cries, shook Averly’s body over Taehyung’s face. “There, there, don’t stop, please!” she begged, her thighs trembling on either side of his head.

Taehyung, submerged in her taste and sound, needed no further instruction. He devoted himself to savoring her pearl with frantic devotion, using every inch of his long tongue to drive her over the edge.

Averly began moving with uncontrollable spasms, bouncing on his face with desperate energy but mindful enough not to hurt him. Her cries grew higher, more urgent, announcing the imminence of her climax.

Meanwhile, Cielle, on top of him, had her eyes squeezed shut and her head thrown back. She panted, muttering incoherently between moans, swearing she saw entire constellations behind her eyelids each time she sank down, taking him with a ferocity that threatened to consume him. The rhythm was becoming frantic, almost brutal in its intensity. The overstimulation was too much.

“Slower… slower, please,” Taehyung managed to gasp, his voice muffled by Averly’s body but clear enough for both to hear.

As if a switch had been flipped, the movement stopped instantly.

Averly froze, panting heavily, and Cielle opened her unfocused eyes.

“Did I hurt you, darling?” Cielle asked, voice full of genuine concern.

“Was I too rough?” Averly added, lifting slightly to see his face.

Taehyung shook his head, catching his breath. “No… you didn’t hurt me. Just… slower. Please.”

Obedience was instant and absolute. Cielle began rocking on him with exquisite slowness, an undulating dance that let him feel every millimeter of friction, every internal contraction. Averly, for her part, settled again and slowed to a deep, sensual sway.

It was in that charged calm, in that deliberate rhythm, that Averly found her end. “Taehyung… I’m coming… I’m coming…” she whispered, with a tenderness that contrasted with the approaching storm. “With three licks… just three…”

He obeyed, focused. One long, slow lick. A trembling moan. A second, more targeted. Her hips rose, pressing against him. The third, a final, decisive movement of his tongue, was the trigger. A heartbreaking cry burst from Averly as her body convulsed in an intense orgasm. A warm, sweet gush of her essence soaked Taehyung’s chin, lips, and nose. She collapsed onto him, moaning uncontrollably, while her body continued shuddering with the echoes of pleasure.

Taehyung, in an instinctive act of care and perhaps his own awe, began gently cleaning the mess with his cheek and soft movements, tasting the last traces.

Averly, slowly regaining her breath, opened her eyes and looked at him. A weak, extremely satisfied smile crossed her face. “What… what a good boy,” she gasped, praising him as her hand stroked his sweaty hair. “Cleaning your prize so well…” She stayed there, on top of him, enjoying the last spasms and the tender attention of her baby, while Cielle continued her slow, torturous ride, carrying the night toward its next inevitable climax.

Cielle was lost in a world of sensations. Each slow, deep thrust was an internal caress bringing her closer to the edge—a heaven built from Taehyung’s thickness and firmness inside her. The sound of her own moans, mixed with his whimpering gasps, was the only music that existed.

Averly, for her part, slid off Taehyung’s face, her own body still pulsing. With possessive tenderness, she curled into the hollow of his neck, planting small kisses of gratitude and approval on his sweaty skin.

“You’re so incredible,” Averly whispered against his ear, watching as Cielle took Taehyung’s large hands and placed them on her warm, rounded hips. “Do you like it like this, gorgeous?” Cielle asked, her voice a broken thread of breath. She guided his hands, teaching him the rhythm that drove her wild, allowing him a fragment of control in his own surrender. “Do you feel what you do to me?”

“Yes… I love it,” Taehyung managed to articulate, his voice a sweet, submissive whimper that made both women smile. “So cute,” Cielle praised, lowering her head to brush her forehead against his. “Our good boy,” Averly added, stroking his hair.

Tension began building again in Taehyung’s body, a familiar coiling in his lower belly. “Cielle… I’m going to… I’m going to come again,” he announced, voice trembling, almost asking permission.

Cielle leaned closer, her lips brushing his. “Do it, my angel,” she whispered, her hot breath mingling with his. “Come for me. I want to feel it.”

At that moment, Averly slipped away from them and off the bed. “Give each other this moment,” she said with a soft smile, heading to the bathroom. Both assumed she needed a moment to freshen up.

Left alone, Taehyung wrapped his arms around Cielle, clinging to her as if she were his anchor in the stormy sea of his pleasure. “I’m coming,” he gasped, this time more urgently, burying his face in her neck.

Cielle held him tightly. “Yes, beautiful thing, I know. Let go. It’s okay, you’re protected,” she soothed in that voice like warm honey, reminding him of the condom he still wore.

Taehyung’s breathing became chaotic, broken by short, high moans. Cielle could feel him coming; every muscle in his body tensed. She leaned in and captured his lips in a deep, devouring kiss right at the climactic moment. A long, guttural, vibrating moan was released from the depths of Taehyung against her mouth as his body shuddered in a second, powerful orgasm, spilling his essence inside the condom while Cielle’s internal muscles kept squeezing him.

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, panting, with Cielle stroking his back and whispering words of comfort and praise. When the last spasm finally left him, Taehyung, voice reduced to a faint, exhausted thread, murmured against her skin: “Now… can I taste you, Cielle? Please… I want to taste you.”

The request—so sudden, so submissive, and so full of genuine desire to reciprocate—made an unexpected, warm blush rise up Cielle’s neck and cheeks. No one, in the middle of their own exhaustion, had ever asked for something like that with such sweetness.

The warm intimacy of the moment was gently broken by Averly’s return. She held a dark purple vibrator and a bottle of lube, a playful smile on her lips. She sat on the edge of the bed, her hand tenderly caressing Taehyung’s cheek.

“My little doll,” she murmured, but then her smile faded slightly as she noticed the subtle tension in the air. “Did I interrupt something?”

Cielle, quickly regaining composure, shook her head. “No, not at all. We were just… resting.” Her gaze fixed on the objects in Averly’s hands. “What’s that?”

Averly’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “I’ve always wanted to try this with a man,” she explained, waving the vibrator. “Stimulating him there… with this. They say it can be incredible for them.”

Cielle cast a protective glance at Taehyung, who lay exhausted between them. “Averly, love, he’s drained. I think it’s too much for him right now.”

However, before Averly could respond, a low but clear voice emerged from the pillow. “It’s okay.”

Both women looked at Taehyung. He turned his head to meet their eyes, heavy-lidded but with a spark of resigned curiosity. “You can… you can do it.” Then his gaze turned to Cielle, and a faint blush tinted his ears. “While… I taste Cielle.”

Averly’s reaction was immediate. A squeal of pure excitement escaped her lips before she launched herself at Taehyung, covering his face with a rain of quick, loving kisses. “You’re the best! The most perfect client in the world!” she exclaimed, her earlier disappointment completely forgotten.

Cielle, though slightly surprised by the rapid turn of events, couldn’t help a smile of surrender. If Taehyung was willing, she wouldn’t stand in the way. With a fluid motion, she slid beneath him and settled against the pillows in the center of the bed, opening her arms in a silent invitation.

Taehyung rose with a soft groan, feeling every aching muscle in his back. He had no idea how many hours had passed, but his body was a map of the intensity lived. With slow movements, he crawled across the bed and lay face-down, resting his head in Cielle’s lap, who immediately began stroking his hair with reassuring fingers.

This new position offered Averly a view that made her hold her breath: Taehyung’s broad, toned back tapered to a pair of surprisingly plush, perfectly shaped glutes.

“My God,” Averly breathed, voice a mix of awe and delight. She reached out, stopping just before touching. “Taehyung… can I? Can I knead them a little? Just to… get used to them.”

From Cielle’s lap, where he was already distracting himself tracing circles on her thigh with his thumb, Taehyung nodded slightly. “Yes,” he murmured, voice muffled against Cielle’s skin.

With a triumphant smile, Averly applied a small amount of lube to her hands and then, with a tenderness that contrasted with the lascivious plan, began gently massaging Taehyung’s glutes, kneading away tension and preparing the ground for what was to come, while he finally surrendered to the task he craved: tasting Cielle.

The atmosphere in the room had thickened, charged with an intimacy exploring new territories. Averly, kneeling behind Taehyung, never stopped her praise, her hands working with a mix of adoration and anticipation.

“God, they’re perfect,” she murmured, palms caressing and kneading the plush glutes with a tenderness that contrasted with the growing sexual tension. “Your mother made you beautiful everywhere, my treasure.” A playful little slap, followed by a soft massage, made Taehyung’s muscles tense and then relax under her touch.

Meanwhile, Taehyung had settled between Cielle’s thighs, who sat propped against the pillows, watching him with a gaze so soft and full of affection it almost hurt. Her breath hitched when Taehyung’s long, determined tongue finally found her center, tasting the “other entrance” he had craved so much. A trembling moan escaped her lips, and her fingers tangled tightly in his hair—not to guide him, but to hold on as a wave of pleasure coursed through her.

The feeling of Taehyung’s mouth on her, combined with the sight of Averly playing with his body, made Cielle unconsciously lift her hips, offering herself more to his mouth and, at the same time, presenting a more accessible target to Averly.

Seizing the moment, with a low voice thick with contained excitement, Averly leaned over Taehyung’s back. “Darling, can I? Can I put a finger in? Just so you get used to it,” she asked, her hot breath on his skin.

Taehyung, lost in Cielle’s taste and texture, head swimming in a fog of dual sensations, nodded against her. A muffled, wet “yes” was his answer.

With extreme delicacy, Averly guided her well-lubed fingertip to his virgin entrance. The pressure was slow, constant, allowing the muscle to adjust. When the first knuckle slid inside, Taehyung’s body shuddered violently. A deep, surprised gasp shook his chest, and his instinctive reaction was to bury his face harder into Cielle, as if seeking an anchor, his tongue working with renewed urgency from the pleasurable shock.

The chain reaction was immediate. Cielle’s moan turned into a high-pitched cry when Taehyung’s tongue intensity doubled. She arched her back completely, hands gripping the sheets, her body convulsing under the double assault of sensations.

Averly held her breath, watching her finger be accepted, feeling the incredible tightness and heat enveloping it. “Very good… that’s very good,” she whispered, almost to herself, as she began an extremely slow in-and-out motion, preparing the ground for deeper exploration, completing the circuit of pleasure that now enveloped all three in perfect, overwhelming symbiosis.

“You’re so brave, my little cupcake, so perfect,” Averly praised in a hoarse whisper as her two fingers moved with a delicacy that belied the intensity of the sensation they caused. Every movement, every small adjustment, sent a new shudder through Taehyung’s body, which arched and tensed under the double attention.

His fist, the one not buried in Cielle’s hair, was clenched so tightly around the sheet that his knuckles gleamed white. It was the third time they had brought him to the edge, and his body, though exhausted, responded with fierce sensitivity. The surprise was feeling how, despite the exhaustion, his cock began to throb again against the sheets, slowly hardening under the torrent of pleasure flooding him.

Seeing the struggle in his hand, Cielle slid hers beneath, offering her palm as an anchor. “Here, darling, hold on to me,” she murmured, and their fingers intertwined in a grip as strong as it was intimate.

Averly then introduced a second finger. The sensation of being opened, of warmth and pressure expanding inside him, tore a long, broken moan from Taehyung—a sound that vibrated directly into Cielle’s core.

“Bend your fingers, Averly,” Cielle gasped, her own voice a thread of sound. “Upward. Find that spot…”

Averly hesitated. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

“Trust me. You won’t,” Cielle assured, her gaze fixed on Taehyung’s face, bathed in silent tears of ecstasy. “Look at him. He’s ready.”

Averly obeyed. With exquisite slowness, she curved her fingertips upward, searching, exploring the inner wall.

The effect was instant and electric.

Taehyung shot up from Cielle’s lap as if electrocuted, a choked, guttural cry tearing from his throat. His hands gripped Cielle’s waist with near-desperate strength, digging his fingers into her skin and pulling her toward his mouth with animal urgency, completely lost in the vertigo of pleasure. His tongue, previously playful, became frantic, devouring Cielle with an intensity that made her fear for her sanity.

All three cried out. Averly’s moan at the visceral reaction she had provoked, Cielle’s scream at the sudden onslaught on her sensitivity, and Taehyung’s torn whimper—pure surrender.

The next few minutes were a whirlwind. Cielle arched again and again, offering her breasts to the air, her moans a continuous mantra. Taehyung, eyes squeezed shut, no longer thought—only felt: Cielle’s taste in his mouth, the incredible, addictive pressure of Averly’s fingers inside him, moving in that miraculous dance that drove him insane.

Cielle, lost in her own ecstasy, stroked his hair and face, bathing him in praise and loving nicknames. “That’s it, my good boy, my beautiful man… you’re doing it so well…” And then, in a sigh thick with raw, out-of-place emotion, the confession slipped from her lips unfiltered: “God, Taehyung… I want to be the mother of your children…”

The room seemed to hold its breath for a second. It was a forbidden phrase, crossing a line neither of them knew they had. But in the fog of absolute pleasure, amid gasps and tears, it sounded not like a promise but the purest expression of an ecstasy that had transcended the physical to become something far deeper and dangerously real.

The emptiness was instant and plaintive. When Averly withdrew her fingers, leaving behind that exquisite feeling of fullness and pressure, a low, desperate moan of protest rose from the depths of Taehyung. His body arched backward, unsuccessfully seeking the contact that had been driving him so close to the edge.

“Shhh, I know, gorgeous, I know,” Averly murmured, leaning down to kiss his shoulder with a tenderness that soothed the fire she had ignited. “But I’m going to give you something much better. What you deserve.”

The sight of the vibrator, now glistening with lube, sent a new wave of nervous anticipation mixed with overwhelming desire through Taehyung. Cielle, though submerged in the whirlwind Taehyung’s tongue was causing in her, managed to open her eyes, her gaze glassy and lost.

“Slow, Averly,” she gasped, her voice a thread of maternal alarm amid her own ecstasy. “Please, go slow with him.”

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing,” Averly replied with confident calm, placing the cool, wet tip of the toy at his now-relaxed but sensitive entrance.

“I’m going in, teddy bear. Get ready,” she announced, but Taehyung was too far gone, drowning in Cielle’s taste and sounds. With soft but relentless pressure, Averly began to push.

The sensation was so different, so intense and vibrant, that it tore from Taehyung a sound he had never made before: a deep, almost animal growl-moan that mixed with the toy’s hum. Feeling filled again, but with this new, electric presence, made his hips shudder involuntarily.

“That’s it, very good,” Averly praised, advancing centimeter by centimeter, feeling his body adapt.

“So brave, so beautiful,” Cielle added, tangling her fingers in his hair, pulling him back to her to distract him from the initial impact.

Taehyung was on the edge. Every pulse of the vibrator, even at its lowest setting, resonated directly in his core, amplifying every sensation he received from Cielle. It was a glorious, torturous overload.

Averly left it there, fully inside, letting him adjust. Her hands caressed his glutes in soothing circles before she leaned down and began planting a trail of soft, wet kisses along his back, from shoulders to the base of his spine.

Taehyung was losing his mind. His breathing was an open, noisy gasp, his body trembling like a leaf. Cielle’s hand moved from his hair to his cheek, caressing it.

“We can stop, darling,” she whispered, her voice a haven of clarity in his personal storm. “If it’s too much, just say the word and we stop.”

The offer was genuine, a reminder of the contract of care and safety. But stopping was the last thing Taehyung wanted. He shook his head forcefully, almost violently—a desperate movement.

“No,” he gasped, voice hoarse and broken. “No… don’t stop. Please.”

It was a pleading whisper, total surrender. And with that confirmation, Averly, with a triumphant smile and fierce tenderness, pressed a button on the vibrator’s base, making a low but deep vibration thrum inside him, sealing his fate on this endless night of pleasure.

The low hum turned into a constant, more pronounced vibration when Averly turned the dial, raising it one level. Taehyung’s reaction was immediate and visceral: a high-pitched, strangled squeal escaped his lips before his body convulsed, and the tears, previously silent, welled up with new intensity, staining Cielle’s abdomen.

Averly, alarmed by the strength of his reaction, stopped the movement. “Darling, does it hurt?” she asked, voice full of genuine concern, her fingers stroking his side in an attempt to calm.

Taehyung shook his head forcefully, rubbing his cheek against Cielle’s soft skin like a frightened cat seeking comfort. “N-no… don’t take it out,” he gasped, voice a broken, tear-soaked thread. “It feels… too good. Please, don’t stop.”

Relieved and excited in equal measure, Averly nodded. Instead of just leaving it still, she gently grasped the base of the vibrator and began moving it slowly, a subtle but relentless in-and-out that made every fiber of Taehyung shudder.

Taehyung suddenly sat up, as if spring-loaded by electricity.

Crawling fully onto Cielle, he buried his face between her breasts, seeking a refuge that no longer existed because his own hand, acting on primal impulse, dropped directly to Cielle’s core. His clumsy but determined fingers found her clit, rubbing it with an urgency that tore a shrill cry from her, as high-pitched as his own.

All three were now absorbed, lost beyond any preconceived limit. The air was thick with moans, gasps, and the constant hum that was the heartbeat of this new reality.

Averly, seeing the scene, clung to his back, pressing her own sweaty body against his. She rested her chin on his shoulder and brought her lips to his ear. “Our good boy,” she whispered, voice a thread of hot silk amid the chaos. “So sensitive, so perfect for us. You’re doing incredible.”

Taehyung felt his consciousness detach from his body. He floated in a sea of pure sensations, where pain and pleasure merged into one indescribable thing.

It was then that Averly brought a hand to Taehyung’s chest, finding one of his nipples and pinching it with cruel, sweet precision. Her other hand never stopped its play with the vibrator, controlling the rhythm of his inner storm.

Cielle, through her own ecstasy, noticed Taehyung’s cock, fully erect and throbbing, forgotten among the sheets. With a movement of pure lustful compassion, she slid her hand down and grasped it, pumping up and down with a speed that matched the vibrator’s in-and-out.

The combination was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Taehyung clamped his lips tightly around Cielle’s right nipple, pushing it inward with a muffled, desperate moan as another wave of hot, salty tears fell onto her skin. He was a being reduced to pure sensation, pure surrender, held and carried to the edge once more by the two women who had turned his pain into the most cathartic ecstasy of his life.

The air in the room was thick, heavy with the scent of sex, sweat, and melted candles. Cielle, vision blurred and every nerve on edge, felt climax approaching like an unstoppable wave. Taehyung’s tongue tracing wet, frantic circles around her nipple, his nose buried in the soft skin of her breast, and above all, his fingers playing with her clit with clumsy but effective devotion, had her on the brink of the abyss.

“God, Tae… I don’t want it to end,” she gasped, her words only broken sounds, almost incomprehensible. But each was a truth. The world outside this bubble of pleasure no longer existed.

Their bodies were a tangle of moans and convulsive movements. Drool mixed with sweat on their skin. Every time Cielle felt her orgasm approaching, her back arched involuntarily, offering more of her breast to Taehyung’s hungry mouth, as if that contact were the anchor keeping her tethered to reality.

It only took a few more minutes, a few precise strokes of his fingers. With a long, trembling cry that seemed to empty all the air from her lungs, Cielle reached climax. A warm wave soaked Taehyung’s fingers and the sheets beneath them, her body shaking in prolonged spasms before collapsing, exhausted and panting, against the pillows.

With her mind clouded but maternal and lustful instinct persisting, her gaze fixed on Taehyung’s cock, which she was still firmly stroking.

Before she could ask, Taehyung’s broken voice, muffled against her skin, announced: “I-I’m coming… again.”

It was the third. The confirmation was a spark that lit the final fuse. Averly, who hadn’t stopped her work, increased the speed and intensity of the vibrator, seeking that precise spot inside him with fierce determination. Cielle, with her last strength, quickened the rhythm of her hand on his cock, synchronizing each pump with the internal vibration.

It was a perfect storm, a synergy of stimuli that carried him to the edge in seconds.

With just two more strokes from Cielle’s hand and one final, deep buzz from the vibrator, Taehyung screamed. It was a raw, heartbreaking sound that came from a deeply guarded place in his soul. His mouth released Cielle’s nipple with a wet sound, and a powerful, warm jet of his essence shot out, staining his own abdomen and the already-soaked sheets.

All three cried out in a chorus of exhausted ecstasy. It was the sound of total surrender, of the journey completed.

Then, silence. Broken only by desperate gasps.

Energy vanished from their bodies instantly. Cielle collapsed backward, completely drained. Taehyung, with no strength left to move, fell onto her, his face finding refuge once more between her breasts, his body still trembling with post-orgasmic shudders. His breathing was chaotic, deep and broken, as the world slowly came back into focus around them, leaving the three fused in a heavy, placid exhaustion.

A muffled moan and a sudden tremor behind them was the only sign of Averly’s own climax. She had come, silent and powerfully, just from watching the visceral image of Taehyung being driven to ecstasy in such an intense, vulnerable way.

With a barely trembling hand, she turned off the vibrator and, with extreme delicacy, slid it out of Taehyung, who let out a sensitive whimper at the resulting emptiness.

The man in Cielle’s arms was a trembling, inert weight. He was exhausted on a level that transcended the physical; it was soul-deep exhaustion. Dry and fresh tears glistened on his cheeks, his body marked by effort and pleasure, and a fine, persistent tremor ran through him from head to toe. He needed cuddles, silence, the comforting stillness that only comes after catharsis.

Averly drew closer, her own breathing still slightly quickened, and placed a soft, prolonged kiss in the center of his sweaty back. “It’s over, teddy bear,” she murmured against his skin, her voice a balm. “Everything’s okay. You were perfect.”

From the other side, Cielle slowly began to emerge from her own trance. Her hands, which had clung to Taehyung with desperate strength, now relaxed into slow, lazy caresses over his hair and shoulders. A heavy, satisfied silence settled in the room, broken only by the sound of three pairs of lungs working to return to normal.

After a few minutes, with an energy Taehyung found downright supernatural, Averly rose from the bed. He, who felt he couldn’t even move a finger, watched her in awe through the dimness. How was it possible she moved with such fluidity, as if they hadn’t spent the last hours immersed in the most intense sensual blaze?

“Whew, so hot!” Averly exclaimed with an almost playful tone, stretching her arms overhead. She leaned over the bed once more, her lips finding Taehyung’s ear. “You were incredible,” she whispered, and the praise—so genuine and direct—drew one last shiver from him. “Thank you for trusting us.”

Then she straightened and gathered her clothes from the floor. “I feel all sticky. I’m going to take a quick bath,” she announced, as casually as if deciding what to have for dinner. With a conspiratorial smile aimed at Cielle, who barely managed a slow blink in response, Averly left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

The silence she left behind was different. More intimate. Deeper. Taehyung lay on Cielle, his breathing finally beginning to calm, listening to the racing beat of her heart beneath his ear. They were alone, wrapped in the wet, warm mess of the sheets, in the scent of their entwined bodies, in the echo of pleasure that had broken and somehow united them in a way Taehyung couldn’t begin to understand but desperately wanted never to lose.

Cielle’s compassion—always more maternal and grounded than Averly’s fleeting fire—manifested in a whisper thick with concern. “Taehyung, are you okay?” Her hand stroked his damp hair. “Do you want me to get you water? Are you hungry?”

Taehyung, with a faint whimper, pulled away from her with effort, rolling to lie on his back on the other side of the bed. His body was a map of exhaustion, every muscle protesting, and his now-soft, sensitive cock lay like an exhausted witness to the battle fought. “I’m okay,” he murmured, voice hoarse from moans and tears. Then, after a moment of silence, curiosity overcame him. “How… how does Averly have so much energy after… all of this?”

Cielle settled on her side, propping her head on her hand to look at him. The dim light caressed the curves of her naked body. “Averly,” she explained with a tone of familiar resignation, “has had clients… more intense. More difficult. She has a stamina that’s pure willpower.”

Taehyung swallowed. The comment put everything in perspective, reminding him of the transactional context, but the calm in Cielle’s voice reassured him. This moment of quiet, of talking and simply being, felt as essential as the sex itself.

He settled better, turning toward her, feeling the weight of exhaustion on his eyelids. It was then that Cielle, with an intuition that pierced skin, touched the wound that had truly brought him to their door.

“All of this… was it because of losing your friend?” she asked, voice soft as velvet, without a hint of judgment.

Taehyung squeezed his eyes shut for a second. He didn’t want to talk about it, not here, not now, but the barrier protecting his pain had cracked along with his orgasms.

“Not just… not just because of her,” he corrected, staring at the ceiling. “It’s that… I’ve felt so alone these past few days. So empty.” A deep sigh escaped his lips. Then, with a vulnerability that surprised even him, he returned the question: “Cielle, how do you… how do you keep from falling in love so fast?”

She smiled—a sad, wise smile. “I just let it pass, darling. Like a train in the night. I watch it, I feel it, and then I let it go.” She paused, studying his profile. “Why do you ask?”

Taehyung was silent for a long time. The words formed with difficulty. “Because I… I fall in love quickly. I feel too much, too soon.” His voice cracked slightly. “And I felt… a lot of things for her.”

Cielle reached out and placed her hand on his arm—a warm, steady connection. “Feeling deeply isn’t a weakness, Taehyung. It’s what makes you feel alive, even when it hurts. The trick isn’t to stop feeling; it’s learning to take care of those feelings without letting them consume you.”

A single tear slipped from the corner of Taehyung’s eye and disappeared into the pillow. It wasn’t from pain, but from a strange kind of comfort. “Thank you,” he whispered, the word carrying far more weight than simple gratitude for advice.

Cielle wanted to say more, to dig deeper, to offer more comfort, but when she looked at him, she saw that his heavy eyelids had finally given way completely. His breathing had become deep and even, his face—relaxed in sleep—looking like peaceful marble carved by a loving hand. She stayed there watching him, stunned by the serene, vulnerable beauty he radiated.

With a smile of infinite tenderness, Cielle leaned in and pressed a kiss as soft as a butterfly’s wing kiss to his cheek. “Rest, treasure,” she murmured against his skin. Then, with the same delicacy one uses to handle a fragile relic, she slipped out of bed, covered his exhausted body with a sheet, and left the room in silence, leaving him submerged in a restorative sleep that, perhaps for the first time in weeks, was not stained with loneliness.

The apartment had shifted in energy. From the charged, sensual atmosphere of the bedroom, it had transitioned into the calm, domestic warmth of the living room. Averly, now wrapped in a loose pajama set—shorts and an oversized t-shirt she’d probably stolen from some past boyfriend—was the very picture of absolute comfort. In one hand she held a juicy hamburger she’d just taken a massive bite of, and with the other she flipped through a fashion magazine. The irony couldn’t have been more delicious: the same woman who, moments ago, had devoured a man with her mouth was now devouring her dinner with equal enthusiasm. A marvelous woman full of contrasts.

The bedroom door opened and Cielle appeared, wrapped in a black silk robe that fell over her body like a dark river, accentuating every curve with serene elegance. She was the polar opposite of Averly’s carefree comfort: two different worlds, two sides of the same coin that complemented each other perfectly.

“Dinner got here that fast?” Cielle asked, her voice as soft as the silk she wore.

Averly nodded, swallowing her bite. “There are still chicken wings in the oven if you want some. And yeah, it came quick. You, on the other hand, took forever in there,” she added with a mischievous grin before taking another bite.

Cielle dropped onto the sofa beside her with a sigh that mixed exhaustion and satisfaction. She was quiet for a moment, staring into the space in front of them, before carefully asking, “Averly… what do you think of Taehyung?”

Averly lowered the magazine, chewing thoughtfully. Her analysis was as direct and practical as she was. “He’s an angel. Gorgeous, with a tenderness that’s not fake. Gentle even when grabbing a glass of water, I bet. And in bed…” She paused dramatically, a genuine spark of admiration in her eyes. “God, and considering how huge he is, he should be an asshole, but he’s not. Attentive, submissive… a total sweetheart.”

“Why do you ask?” Averly fixed her gaze on Cielle and didn’t miss the faint blush creeping up her friend’s neck. A slow, knowing smile spread across her face. “Oh, come on. Seriously? You like him?”

Cielle looked away, but couldn’t hide a shy smile. “It’s not… it’s not exactly that. It’s just… he’s different. I’d really love to get to know him. Outside of… this.”

Averly leaned toward her, her playful attitude giving way to surprising sincerity. “Then don’t let the chance slip away, Cielle. Seriously.” Her voice softened. “If this turns into something real, you know it doesn’t matter. We can stop the services. We’ve been doing this for two years, and it’s been good, but it’s not a life sentence.”

“Averly, it’s not that serious!” Cielle protested, though without much conviction.

“Why not? He’s the kind of guy women would kill to have by their side, and he literally fell into your lap. If something happens, I’ll support you. Just… if you two end up together, I’ll respect it. No jealousy, no drama.” The offer was genuine, a testament to the depth of their friendship.

Cielle gave her a gentle elbow nudge with her elbow, chuckling. “Stop joking.”

“Who’s joking?” Averly shrugged, finishing her burger. “I’m just saying think about it.” She stood up, stretching. “I’m getting the wings. Want me to bring you some?”

Cielle nodded, and as Averly headed to the kitchen, she leaned back on the sofa, resting her head on the warm spot her friend had just vacated. A deep sigh escaped her lips. “I’ll think about it,” she murmured to herself, while the image of Taehyung—vulnerable and beautiful, sleeping in her bed—remained etched in her mind, planting a seed of possibility in ground she had long believed barren.

—Thanks for read 𖹭.

“Yes, I do”, he answers you, still terribly nervous that someone might see you. His eyes keep scanning the gardens and he keeps fumbling with his dress. 

“I got this scar when I was seven after Mikella closed a door on my leg.”

“Why would your brother do such a thing?” 

“Oh worry not, it was an accident between two playing children, but I never got rid of the scar. It is still with me, even after all these years”, you say, stroking your thumb over it. You smile, “I don’t mind it, however I will sacrifice it for my demonstration.”

“I don’t quite understand.”

“Worry not, you will very soon”, you assure him, “now look, I will show you the spell I learned.”

Yoongi watches with furrowed brows, following the path your thumb takes on your scar. You are whispering the words of your ancestors, speaking them clearly. It happens gradually that the small scar fades more and more until it has disappeared completely and nothing but untouched skin was left behind. 

“How?” Yoongi gasps, widening his eyes in the pure disbelief he feels. The scar is gone. You removed it. “How is that possible?” 

“Isn’t it remarkable?” You let out an excited giggle. “The books called it the Spell of Mending and it is said that its effects are permanent. I studied it and practiced on Yelena with her consent until I finally perfected the magic. I healed her scars.”

Yelena is one of your kitchen maids, who in a cooking accident received deep burn scars on her hands. She is a very kind woman, hard working too, and her scars always troubled her.

“This is unbelievable”, Yoongi says, touching your shin where once the scar had dug a deep valley into your skin, “it is gone. I cannot feel it either.”

“Truly”, you agree, “it is as if the scar never existed.”

“It is so impressive”, he agrees, “your knowledge about our ancestors’ magic is truly remarkable these days.”

“Oh by the goddesses”, you fluster, “you flatter me.”

“No, I am truthful”, he insists, “I am certain that there are many people who you will be able to help with this new spell. Yelena must have been so grateful. I know how much her scars burdened her.”

“She was very grateful, I am happy that I could heal her.”

“You did and I am certain that you will help many others too”, he says, gazing at you with fondness in his eyes.

“Yes, I want to help them. However, I didn’t learn this spell for my people.”

Yoongi falters in confusion, tilting his head to the side. He doesn’t understand. You seem excited despite such a confession and on top of it all, you close the distance between you and him to intertwine your fingers with his’.

Your smile grows, your eyes are soft in love. 

“I learned it for you”, you say, beaming as brightly as the sun. 

“For me? I don’t understand. Why would you learn it for me?”

“Because I want to help you”, you say, touching the long scar on his face, “I want to give you the choice to get rid of it”, you whisper. 

“Oh.”

Yoongi feels breathless and lost for words. Your touch feels intense now that such a confession is lacing it.

“I know how much grievances it brought you and I could make them all go away”, you smile, touching his eyebrow softly.

Yoongi cannot look into your eyes for he feels too overwhelmed with emotions – Shock that you would learn such an important spell for him, surprise that you would even offer such a present to him, gratefulness, but also fear. He feels many emotions right now.

He hates his scar. Not only does it carry the memory of how he failed to protect his mother from her murderers, but it also carries the pain of all the awful things the court called him. 

Ugly. 

Crip. 

Scarface. 

Disgusting, unappealing, scary.

Unlovable. 

Unattractive. 

No one will ever want you. 

Don’t look at me. 

Oh how horrid.

Your face is awful.

Tell me, do you fuck as ugly as your face looks?

Imagine the children such a face will produce.

These are only a few of the hurtful words Yoongi had to endure silently for years. These days such words obviously stopped because you make sure that no evil is spoken about him, but the memories and pain remain.

And because of it, Yoongi is oh so incredibly grateful for the chance of getting rid of this burden. 

He wants to say yes, but doesn’t because he is also scared. Yoongi has gotten so used to the way his face looks that the mere thought of how he might look without the scar scares him. He is so used to having people scrunch their noses in disgust that he fears how they might react if he didn’t carry the scar. What if they still showed disgust? What if the words and stares wouldn’t stop? What if having no scar reveals that Yoongi has always been and always will be ugly? What if having no scar forces him to accept that the scar was never the issue, but that it has always been the rest of his face? 

It is a scary thought. Frightening even.

“I don’t-” He hesitates, feeling dizzy. “I don’t know”, he whispers.

“You don’t know?” your voice is slightly pitched in surprise.

Yoongi tells you that he doesn’t with a shake of his head. 

“Oh…well…” for just a moment you seem to struggle for words. 

Yoongi is aware that you expected a different reaction. He feels guilty that he could not provide it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Do not worry”, your frown morphs into a reassuring smile, “we do not have to do this right away”, you say, kissing his scar most tenderly right where his cheek feels the plumpest, “I merely wanted to show you and tell you that such a choice is possible.” 

“I know, I just…” He lowers his head. “Not important. Thank you, my queen.”

“No, please.” You lift his head with two fingers under his chin. “Be truthful. Don’t hide your thoughts from me.”

“I can’t”, he confesses in a barely there whisper, “they are confusing me too much to speak out loud.”

“I understand.” You smooth your thumb over his chin. “Then I will wait patiently until you can. I love you, Yoongi. I truly do.”

He flusters, cheeks gaining the rosiest of shines to them. 

“I love you too, my queen”, he answers you, fluttering his eyes closed and tilting his head to the side in a silent question for a kiss.

You grant it to him gladly, claiming his pouty lips in a slow yet passionate kiss. 

Truly, kissing him like this feels like magic. When the sun is bright and warm enough so that the lavender gives off its sweet scent. When the scent of it mixes with the faint smell of your roses and the lingering memory of the lemon cake you shared is still on his lips. Then and truly then, kissing him in your gardens feels like magic.

Yoongi awakens to your kiss once the sun has risen for a new day. His sleeping dress, once closed, has been opened in the front to reveal his torso. You probably kissed it as he slumbered, you often do so. His chest doesn’t feel cold because the bedroom is quite warm. The sun is still strong these days, he thinks, summer must want to stay for longer this year. 

He feels another kiss then. Soft and placed right on his cheek. 

With a flutter of his lashes, he opens his eyes. Your face meets him instantly. You are propped up on your elbows, resting on your stomach and supporting the weight of your head with your hand. Your hair is open, framing your beautiful face. One side of your tunic has slipped down, revealing your collarbone and the swell of your breast.

He thinks that you are beautiful in the morning. Even if, sometimes, he still cannot believe that this is his life.

“Good morrow”, he says, voice heavy in sleep. Despite that however, he gives you a tired smile.

One you retort before leaning in to kiss his cheek again.

“Good morrow, my starlight”, you say, running your fingers through his silken hair, “how was your sleep?”

“Deep. I feel well rested.”

“I am glad to hear”, you say, sneaking your hand under his tunic until you can hold him close. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, eliciting shivers to run down his spine. He loves getting held in the morning. 

“I did some thinking”, you murmur.

“You did?” Yoongi closes his eyes. “About what?” he asks, feeling quite positive about dozing off again.

“About my words yesterday and how they must have sounded.”

“I don’t follow.”

“About your scar and the spell I learned.”

Yoongi opens his eyes, turning his head to look at you. 

“I still don’t follow.”

“I just-” You exhale. “I did some thinking and I realised that I made it sound as if I learned this spell just so I could get rid of your scar. But this is not what I meant. I do not think that you have to get rid of it”, you say and touch it softly, “I love you oh so ardently and your face is my favourite piece of art and I regret my words for I made it seem as if I disliked it. But I don’t.” You kiss his cheek. “I am entirely crazy for it. Please forgive me.”

“No, I was never thinking that”, Yoongi whispers, widening his eyes in surprise that you would even dare to come to such conclusions. 

“You weren’t? Oh Yoongi, I was so worried that this is why you were so silent last night.” You hide away in his chest, hugging him. “I worried that I made it seem as if I believed you to be ugly with it. I was so frightened that you thought me to be the cruel princess of the past again.”

“No. I was just thinking.”

“You were? About what?” you ask, lifting your head to meet his eyes. You tug a strand of his golden hair behind his ear. 

“About what you told me.”

“So you were worried that I might find you ugly?” you gasp the question, “no my starlight, no I-”

“No I didn’t”, he interrupts you, “I’m frightened.”

“Frightened? The spell doesn’t hurt”, you shake your head, “not in the slightest.”

“I am not scared of pain.”

“Tell me, my starlight.”

“What if I am not myself without the scar?” he asks. His eyes fill with fear. “It has been part of me for so many years. What if I lose my identity without it?”

“I see.”

“And what if…what if…I cannot say it.”

“Take your time. This is about you”, you encourage him, massaging him behind his ear slowly. He likes it when you do.

“I cannot say it.” He sits up and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. He bends forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and letting his hands tangle between them. 

Because you opened his sleeping gown, it slips off his shoulders, now sitting around his elbows while his torso is bared. His back is visibly tense.

You close the distance, brushing his long hair from his back so you can kiss every inch of his scarred skin.

Yoongi likes what you are doing, staring at the ground with a tight face despite the good sensations. 

You kiss his shoulder, then his neck. Yoongi sits up for it, resting back into you.

“You do not have to talk about it if it is difficult”, you promise him.

“No, I…” Yoongi sighs in defeat. “I want to talk about it, I am just so scared.”

“Then take your time.”

“Promise me not to laugh.”

“I promise.”

“What if it doesn’t stop?”

“I do not follow.”

“What if I get rid of the scar, but the stares do not stop? Or the insults? What if it turns out that it was never my scar but…but…but me?” He exhales shakily. “What if I am still ugly afterwards?”

“You are not ugly”, you insist, furrowing your brows, “you are beautiful. Your face is beautiful with the scar. And your face would be beautiful without it. Do not make me force this thought into you.” 

“How are you going to force a thought into me?”

“By kissing your neck and tickling your sides”, you say and show him, forcing a squeak out of him. 

“Please stop”, he begs, trying to fight you off.

“Well, will you stop calling yourself ugly?”

“Yes, I will! Please don’t tickle me anymore.”

“Good. I shall take your words for it.”

You hold his sides gently as you climb on his lap. Yoongi cradles your hips with utmost care.

You cradle his face and lean down to kiss a path to his cheek. You kiss his scar slowly, relaxing him. 

“Your fears aren’t valid, they won’t come true. Yoongi my moonlight, you have always been beautiful. The court is simply cruel. I believe that they would stare if you got rid of it, only because you would look different at first. Different, but still as beautiful as you already are.”

“You believe so?”

“I do. I do not wish to force you, but please do not deny yourself of this opportunity because of fear. You are beautiful and this will never change.”

Yoongi lowers his eyes, nodding his head.

“Thank you for saying that”, he whispers.

“I mean it. Take your time.” 

He lifts his eyes, finding your loving gaze. 

“I want to kiss you right now”, he confesses.

“Why aren’t you?” you allow him, closing the distance. 

Yoongi meets you in the middle, wrapping his arms around you as his lips melt against yours.

“Oh! Forgive us your Grace.”

Yoongi breaks the kiss hastily, lifting you off his lap. He stands up, attempting to fix his sleeping gown as quickly as possible. Your chamber boys entered the room, serving breakfast on trays.

Yoongi is so embarrassed about the scene they interrupted that he has to walk to the window and look outside.

“Thank you. Just leave it by the table. Sir Yoongi and I will eat a little later.” 

“Very well, your Grace.” 

They leave soon after, closing the door behind them. You snicker, walking to Yoongi. You turn him with your hands on his hips. 

“I keep telling you that we should sleep in separate rooms. What will they think of us now?” he says, cheeks flushed.

“They will think that we must be very in love. Besides, must I remind you that you came to my room last night?”

“That was because I-I…it does not matter. This was very improper.”

“Alright, alright. If you say so.” You peck his lips. “What say you? Breakfast and then a walk in the gardens?” 

“I would love to, but I have training soon.”

“This isn’t your attempt to appear more proper, is it?”

“No, I mean it. I am still commander of the Queen’s Warriors. I have duties I need not slack on.”

“Goddesses, if you talk like this I wish to ruffle you up just to shake some of those manners out of you”, you purr, kneading his hips.

He clears his throat loudly and wiggles out of your hold, fleeing to the breakfast table. You follow him, smiling to yourself. His bashfulness will never lose its charm.

The day keeps the both of you very busy. You spend it welcoming citizens and listening to their worries. You help some with your magic and promise others a timely solution to their problems. You enjoy being queen. Two years ago, you would have thought differently but past-you was a proper fool. You feel so helpful as queen and your life finally has purpose.

Your people like you earnestly. Past-you could not say such a thing, but you want to believe that it is true these days. You know that it wasn’t easy for the people to accept you as queen at first. Your mother had left such big boots to fill. She was so loved and adored and of course people were wary at first. You want to believe that you have grown into someone worthy these days, growing still because you swear to always want to do better.

Yoongi has to leave after luncheon. Rumours of a group of rebels gathering by the east banks of the Meandering River reached the crown room and it is his duty to act on them. Morrok and his followers might have left north, but his admirers are still spread throughout the land like fleas in a dog’s fur. It is Yoongi’s duty to discard them. He takes only his most trusted warriors with him, the task should be easy to fulfill.

He did not kiss you goodbye, bowing his head like a proper commander should do with his queen. It upset you just a little bit because you really wanted to kiss him.

He returns when you are already in bed. Your chamber boy tells you of his return. You instantly hurry to the courtyard, calling his name as the horses’ return with thundering hooves.

He slows his horse down and jumps off as it still trots, handing the reins to the stable boy. 

“Give her water. She ran a lot”, he orders, strutting confidently in his heavy armour. When he walks like this, he appears two heads taller. He must look fearsome in battle. “And make sure that her shoes are proper. I noticed a slight delay in her back leg.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“You all did well today. Turin, Erin take care of the prisoners. I want to question them tomorrow. Refuse them water and food that should soften them up. Leander and Jihyeon, my warriors won’t need this set of armour this week again, clean them tomorrow and oil them for next week”, he barks his orders clearly.

“Yes, Sire.”

“Understood, Sire.”

“You all worked well. Get some rest soon”, he calls out and finally reaches your side. He bows deeply. “The danger has been eliminated, your Grace.”

“Oh shut your mouth and let me kiss you”, you get out and pull him into a kiss.

His instinct is to put his arm around your waist and kiss you back. His honour tells him to stop this in order not to soil your honour. It wins, like it always does.

He steps back, guiding your hands away from his body.

“It is late, your Grace. You should be in bed”, he says.

“How could I when I worry for you? Oh Yoongi, what took you so long?” you ask, reaching for him again.

He redirects your hands. This time around you notice, feeling a twinge in your chest because of it.

“Complications on the road. One of the prisoners wanted to escape, but we managed to collect him”, he explains and begins his journey inside. 

You follow him, holding onto his arm. He eyes your hands, but does not shove them away. Good. He shouldn’t push you away.

“Yes? And? How did it go? Did they hurt you? Are the others alright? Tell me everything”, you stress, having to jog in order to keep up with him.

“I am alright. It went well.”

You and he soon reach the sleeping quarters. Yoongi’s squire, who once waited in front of Yoongi’s room, joins his side and bows deeply. 

“I won’t need this armour tomorrow. I want you to clean and oil it”, Yoongi explains, taking off his sword to hand it to him.

“Yes, Sire.”

“Clean my sword as well. For tonight prepare a basin and hot water. I will be with you shortly.”

“Very well, Sire”, the squire says and hurries to Yoongi’s room.

You stop in front of your bedroom door. Yoongi opens it for you.

“You won’t sleep with me?”

“Not like this at least. I am very dirty.”

He isn’t wrong. Parts of his face and armour are covered in mud and blood. A scent of masculinity and a long-fought battle surrounds him.

“I see.”

Yoongi bows his head, “sleep tight, your Grace.”

You stop him by grabbing his hand. He meets your eyes.

“You are my husband too. Do not forget that.”

He nods his head and slips from your grasp. He bows one last time then disappears down the hallway.

You return to your bedroom, sighing in defeat. You wash your hands in the basin, trying not to let your own thoughts drive you mad.

As much as you adore his bashfulness and as honourable his devotion to duty might be, sometimes it is also very difficult for you. His behaviour makes you feel as if he still was unaware of his life these days or worse that he is pretending not to be Queen Consort because he felt ashamed of it.

When he is more commander than husband, you are thrown back to a time where you were unwanted and undesired. Your former and late husband truly left his mark on you and it seems to bleed whenever Yoongi acts distant with you. When it gets especially bad, your mind plagues you with the most terribly of what ifs. What if he and your traitorous husband were actually lovers and he merely lied to you? What if he acts this distant because he remembers his true love and blames you for his death? What if you cannot give him what your former husband could?

Truly, if the Mending Spell could work on scars of the heart as well, you would have already healed yourself. But alas, it does not and so you are trapped in a labyrinth of painful thoughts.

You crawl back into bed, knowing deep in your heart that he won’t sleep in your room tonight, which only makes the labyrinth more difficult to escape. You knew the moment he galloped into the courtyard that he was trapped in the mindset of commander. Duty bound and following a strict code of values, he would never dare to enter the room of his Queen. He is so frustrating when he acts this way.

You blow out your candle and force your eyes to close. At least he is back home in one piece. You should focus on the positives instead.

Some time passes where you attempt to fall asleep, failing miserably at that. The small amount of sleepiness having wanted to creep up on you disappears the moment someone knocks on your door.

“Come in!” you call out with a racing heart. 

Yoongi enters the room, carrying a candle. His golden hair is let down for bed and his body is wrapped in his sleeping gown. He left any traces of armour, rank or jewellery behind, standing before you as a person. Eye to eye, so intimate and vulnerable, only you and he get to see each other this way.

“You actually came.”

“Did you doubt me?”

“Truth be told, I did. You seemed distant.”

“Because my warriors were close. I had to set a proper example. They should not dare to disrespect you.” 

“Tch, sometimes a little bit of naughtiness wouldn’t hurt.”

He climbs under the duvet, rolling to his side to face you. The candle illuminates your features very faintly.

“What do you mean?” he asks, settling in the pillow with his hands folded under his cheek. It is slightly rosy and so dewy. You poke it, watching it bounce back into shape.

“It means that if I want to kiss you, I expect you to kiss me back as if you missed me.”

He smiles and closes the distance to kiss you deeply. He rolls you to your back, lacing his fingers with you and letting you feel his tongue trace your lips. You meet it eagerly, tingling when he purrs and squeezes your hands. Quite frankly, he steals your breath away.

Yoongi ends the kiss by tugging on your lower lip with his teeth, gazing at you with adoring eyes afterwards.

“I missed you”, he speaks softly. The sound of his deep and warm voice makes your skin tingle.

“Did you?”

“More than you can imagine.” He dances his calloused hands to your wrists, down your arms, along your shoulders until he can cradle both your cheeks. “Now, how do you want me?” he purrs, giving you pretty eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“My marital duties, isn’t this what you insinuated before?”

“Ah that, no I merely wanted you to join me in bed.”

“Are you certain? My hands may be tired, but my tongue still works.”

“By the goddesses, if people found out what words you say to me, no amount of honourable acts could save your image”, you murmur, having to look to the side.

He chuckles and agrees with you by kissing your cheek.

“That is why I cannot allow myself to slip in the presence of the court”, he lulls and nibbles on your jawline. “Trust that it takes everything inside me to keep my composure when you are near.”

“You are outrageous”, you murmur, fanning air to your heated face.

“Perhaps. And you enjoy it. So? Do you wish me to serve you tonight, your Grace?”

“No.” You look into his eyes. “No, tonight I want to be your wife who gets to be held by her husband. And please stop using my title.”

“As you wish, my starlight. I am here now”, he promises and kisses your neck. Just once and then he is resting comfortably by your side, dancing his hand up and down your stomach slowly.

You flip to your side, running your eyes over his face. He invites you in with open arms, but you cannot take it yet.

“Am I a good wife?” you ask quietly.

He nods his head, cupping your cheek. His hand is so big and always so gentle when he touches you.

“Don’t doubt yourself, my starlight. It is late, just try to sleep. Let me hold you.”

“It is just that I am so scared of not being enough again, of being undesirable and unwanted. If you do not want me, then tell me honestly.”

“I could not tell you because I would have to lie. You are more than enough, please do not doubt yourself.”

“Really? So you love me?”

“I love you.”

“And you are in love with me?”

“Very”, he closes the distance, cradling you against his strong chest, “I am not him, you know? I never will be.” 

You give up with a sigh, melting in his arms.

“I know. Please forgive me. I think I should really go to sleep. As you can see, my mind is racing.”

“Mh-hm. I hate when it does.” He kisses your head, rubbing your back. “It is the only thing I cannot fight for you.”

“Oh Yoongi, you are so sweet”, you whisper, finally relaxing completely.

The young apprentice lifts her head, bowing it instantly at the view of Yoongi.

“Your grace, I-I didn’t expect you. Welcome to, to Emerald Grove.”

“Please stand straight, no need to bow.”

“Yes, your grace”, she says, bowing one more time. Yoongi will never get used to this. “What can I get you, your grace?” 

“Is your Mistress here?”

“Yes. Mistress Lexicana! A customer, the queen’s husband, is here to see you!” 

Yoongi hears rustling above before a small black cat jumps on the counter from the floor above. She turns into a woman in a cloud of purple. Her clothes and hair are just as black as the cat’s fur, her long nails remind him of claws. They are painted black.

“Mistress”, Yoongi greets her with a polite nod of his head.

“Commander, what a lovely surprise. What brings you to my humble shop?” the sorceress asks, studying him with her purple eyes. Her pupils are shaped like that of a cat.

“May we talk privately?”

“Of course. Follow me.” 

She leads him upstairs and into her office. The warm scent of incense is strong, making his head foggy. Yoongi tries his hardest not to stare at the array of sexual toys presented on shelves and pretty boxes. He clears his throat, tugging at the collar of his gown. He feels utterly out of place and very sinful.

“Sit.”

His eyes flit to her desk. Part of the table top is made of glass. An array of metal toys stare back at him. He has never seen such shapes before, wondering what they might be used for or where they might go. The thought heats his cheeks. He sits down and instantly fumbles with his own hands. 

“Tea?” she offers, moving around the room with catlike grace.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Now tell me. What brings the Queen’s husband to me? Speak freely, your words will not leave this office.”

She hands him a black porcelain mug. The tea smells of roses and lavender. It tastes sweet like honey. He sips on it, fumbling with the mug as he speaks.

“This is very embarrassing for me, but I think, no I fear, that I am not making the queen happy. As a husband that is.”

“My, my and why do you think that?”

“I can feel it.”

“I see. What happens when you sense it? During which moments?” 

“She doubts herself, asks if she is enough or if I love her. It is because I am not a good husband to her, I know it.”

“I understand. What a predicament indeed.”

“Yes, it is. This is why I am here. Can you help me? Do you have something which could assist me in being a better husband to her?”

“Before I help you, I must ask you one question.”

“I will answer it truthfully.”

“Have you performed the most important duty as a husband yet?”

“I…fear I do not know what this duty might be, Mistress.”

“I see.”

She thinks for a long time, studying him with utmost intensity. Yoongi cannot look at her even once. His heart is pounding, he is so embarrassed.

“Tell you what, I might have exactly what you need”, she finally decides, rising from her chair.

“Whatever it is, I will pay you.”

“I do not doubt that, your grace.”

Yoongi follows her with his eyes as she hurries through the room from one shelf to another. She murmurs to herself, storing whatever she deems worthy in a dark purple box. Yoongi has finished the tea by the time she returns.

“This will do the trick just nicely.” 

Yoongi stands up to look into the box.

“Oh my- what the actual fuck is all of this?”

Yoongi is grateful that Mistress Lexicana gave him a bag to carry the box in. He has never felt more embarrassed than he does having to ride back to the castle while a literal box of sexual toys was strapped to the saddle. He could have sworn people stared at him and saw right through it. 

He is not free of his humiliation once in the courtyard. His warriors follow him with their eyes, studying him intently as he unties the bag. He thinks that going up in flames would be less uncomfortable than this.

“Commander, you have returned from…” the young recruit studies him curiously.

“...the, uhm, kitchen needed stuff. I got it from the, uhm, market”, Yoongi lies.

“What stuff?”

“Cooking stuff.” Yoongi hides the bag including the box behind his sleeve as best as possible. “What do you need?”

“I was merely wondering if we could go for drinks down at the inn after training”, the young recruit asks, gesturing to the other trainees. 

Under normal circumstances, Yoongi would deny the recruit’s request because it was still the middle of the week. These are not normal circumstances however because he currently finds himself in the middle of a public courtyard with a box of sexual toys under his sleeve and a burdening amount of embarrassment in his chest.

“I do not see why not. Just make sure to be back before midnight. I expect you all at training tomorrow.” 

“Thank you, commander!” The young recruit jogs to the trainees. They instantly begin to chat with each other, excitement is written all over their faces. 

Yoongi uses the opportunity to flee. He uses the less known pathways, dodges people, hides from others and prays to every goddess out there not to be seen.

He slips into his bedroom and bolts the door. 

“Goddesses”, he lets out and drops on his chair, burying his face in his hands, “this was worse than battle.”

He takes a few deep breaths before turning his attention to what brought him so much panic. He sets it on the table and opens it, taking out the very descriptive manual Mistress Lexicana gave him.

“Have you seen my husband?” you ask your butler, searching for Yoongi in the dining hall. “I haven’t seen him all day and he is supposed to be present at the table.”

“I believe that he is still in his chamber, your grace.”

“Well, tell him to come down. Tonight’s banquet is important.” 

“Very well, your grace.”

The butler reappears with Yoongi when the entree had already been served. Your footmen are making the rounds with the fish course when Yoongi finally joins your side. He sits down, gasping sharply and shifting almost uncomfortably.

You lean closer, whispering to him in a harsh tone. Your guests are busy with conversation, which gives you a little moment of privacy.

“Where were you? And why aren’t you wearing a proper evening gown?”

“Forgive me. I forgot what day it was, I had a lot to do and had no time to dress properly”, he says, shifting again.

“Do you have any idea who we are hosting tonight? You could have made an effort.”

“Forgive me, I-” He tenses for a moment. “-truly had a lot to do.”

“And this morning? Or all day?”

“Forgive me, I was really busy.”

“Well, it would have been nice to at least receive notice of your absence. I worried all day”, you say, placing your hand on his thigh under the table. 

“I know”, he chokes out, grasping your hand so very tightly that it worries you. You study him. His constant shifting and lightly raised breathing finally sinks into your consciousness. His palm is damp and his cheeks are flushed which he very clearly tried to cover up with pigmented powder.

“What is the matter? Are you coming down with something, my love?” you ask him, voice now filled with care and worry.

“No, I am alright. Just”, he scoots closer to the table only to stop abruptly. He squeezes your hand, exhaling shakily.

“Yoongi, what ever is the matter?”

“Nothing.” He backtracks and whispers into your ear. “Not here. I will try to manage.”

“You have me worried.”

“Later.”

His vagueness paired with his peculiar behaviour makes this dinner almost unbearable for you. He acts normal for most of if, he eats and socialises and entertains like a queen consort is supposed to do. But then you catch him shifting or biting his lip or gasping sharply while his fingers grasp the chair and you wonder what in the hells might be wrong with him. 

The guests leave when the bells strike nine. Yoongi seems to find it difficult to stand by now, struggling so profusely that some guests comment on it and he blames “having pulled a muscle at today’s training,” on it. You do not believe him.

You know your husband. He wouldn’t let something as miniscule – as he would put it – as a pulled muscle show. 

“Now tell me what is wrong”, you say once the last of the guests has left and the doors fall closed.

“Let us go to bed”, Yoongi says and does the unthinkable thing of leading you by your hand. 

You follow him, fighting for words. This is so unlike him that for a moment you wonder if he was replaced by a Doppler – a shape shifting creature of prankster nature. They are harmless unless provoked. It would at least explain the unusual behaviour at dinner or his improper dress-up.

The door to your bedroom closes. Yoongi lets go of your hand and stumbles to the bed.

“Holy fucking- argh”, he gets out, collapsing onto his knees in front of the bed’s foot end. He buries his face in the mattress, grasping bundles of the blanket as he shudders uncontrollably.

“Yoongi, what is the matter? You are starting to seriously worry me”, you insist, kneeling down next to him.

“This was a bad idea.”

“What was? What did you do?” 

“I went to Emerald Grove.”

“To- but why? What could you have possibly wanted from Mistress Lexicana that we simply couldn’t order?” 

He flips his head to the side, looking at you with submissive eyes.

“I wanted to make you happy as a husband.”

“You…” You blink rapidly until you find the right words to say. “What nonsense are you spouting? You are making me very happy.”

“I could do better.”

“No, you-”

“I know that I could. Do not deny it. I have made you unhappy lately, I make you doubt yourself and stay up late in worry. I haven’t been a good husband to you.”

“But that’s…this is silly talk. I was tired last night, I merely said stuff without thinking.” You cradle his cheek. “And it is definitely no reason to seek out Mistress Lexicana and allow her to, to…what exactly did she do to you?” 

“She gave me instructions and…well, uhm. Fucking hells, she gave me a box filled with sexual toys and a manual on what to do to please you.”

“Oh my.” You sit back, grasping your pearls quite literally. “This is the last thing I expected you to do. Ever. You went to her for sex toys?? And carried them in public?”

“I know. It was worse than being dragged naked through the streets by my balls.”

You laugh.

“I can imagine.” You scan your eyes up and down his body. “So what did she instruct you to do? Inflict pure agony on yourself?”

“No” he closes his eyes in embarrassment. “No, just…Please lift my rope and see for yourself.”

“You are making me scared. I swear by the goddesses if she ordered you to cut off your cock or something insane, I will personally sew it back on just to cut it off myself.”

“Just see for yourself.”

You crawl behind him and do as he instructed. 

“By the goddesses”, you exclaim, stomach tensing vigorously.

His inner thighs are a mess because of his leaking and hardened cock. He used a golden silk ribbon to tie it to his right leg, which explains why you could not see anything during dinner and why he grasped your hand when you touched him. He must have wanted to make sure that you wouldn’t accidentally touch it. And for good reasons, it would have shook you to your core.

Even now as he kneels and bends over for you, he is leaking on the floor, spilling streaks of it down his fair thigh. His shaft is swollen and veiny, his tip is flushed a deep red. No wonder that he walked funny. His poor cock must have rubbed against his thigh constantly. He tied another ribbon to his left thigh to match the look. Even it got soaked in his desperation.

The mess leads your eyes up to his bottom and the black diamond lodged right between his buttocks.

“What is this?” You can barely get the words out, parting him with trembling hands.

Yoongi groans, biting the sheets. Whatever you are doing is sending ripples through his body, forcing his tied up cock to leak vigorously and most importantly the diamond to shift to reveal a metal toy inside his clenching hole.

“Holy shit”, you gasp and pull his rope down quickly. You jump to your feet, running to the door to bolt it shut. You run back to Yoongi and force him to straighten up by pulling on his hair. It accidentally opens his bun.

He moans, gazing at your mouth submissively. His lips are parted, his eyes half-lidded. He looks properly drugged in desire.

“Are you insane? What were you thinking?” You whisper harshly, cradling his flushed cheeks.

“Do you hate it?”

“Hate it? Yoongi, this is without a doubt the most thoughtful, the most insane and naughtiest thing you have ever done. I could currently move mountains from sheer excitement.”

“You said that you wanted more naughtiness.”

“Well, I expected you to kiss me in front of your warriors perhaps or call me love in front of the court. Not sit through an important banquet with your hole plugged up and your leaking cock strapped to your leg.” You let out a breathy laugh before smooching his lips. “I feel like I am dreaming. I cannot believe that this is you.”

“This makes two of us”, he confesses in a breathy laugh.

“What are you even attempting to achieve with this?”

“Your happiness mostly and to show you my commitment to our marriage. I want to be a proper husband to you.”

“Do you mean you want me to claim you?”

“Yes. Preferably soon. I cannot take another second of teasing. This toy is driving me insane.”

“You have never done this before. Are you certain that you are ready?”

“I am. Please just make a proper husband out of me. I want this.”

“I am so truthful, I feel like I am dreaming. Never in my life would I have expected this from you”, you babble excitedly.

“Please?” he begs, shifting needily.

“Yes, of course. Yes. I just…I need to get ready.”

“I left the stuff you need on the dresser.”

“By the goddesses, I am shaking. This excites me so much.”

Yoongi waits patiently for you to get ready. You do so hidden behind your screen and once you return, he cannot help but gasp.

Your beauty makes you glow. He feels hypnotised. You took off your dress but kept the jewellery on, allowing it to kiss your bare chest and tender neck. You opened your hair, letting it frame your features naturally. Straps of leather hug your hips and thighs and in front of your heat, a faux cock is tangling. He eyes it, suddenly feeling lightheaded in nervousness.

“I picked the smallest one”, you say, making your way to him.

“Did you?”

“Of course.” You wrap your hand around it. “Are you excited for it, sweet husband?”

He is frightened. Cleaning out and getting the plug inside was already very uncomfortable, he can only imagine how a cock must feel. Now granted, the plug became a lot more comfortable and arousing as the night went on, but this is different. He is frightened of it, but will speak no word of it because it is his duty to bear it. 

Yoongi honours loyalty to his duties more than anything. Even if they hurt him, even if they make him want to cry in pain he will not give up on them. Nor will he show that they are a burden to bear.

“Yes, I am excited for it”, he lies while his heart pounds in his ribcage.

You smile and lower yourself back to his level. You drape your arm over him, kissing his shoulder and neck. It takes away some of his nervousness.

“I will make this so wonderful for you”, you purr and slide your hand to the front of his gown to open it. You tug it off his torso and arms then down his waist and hips. You throw it to the side, connecting your hands with his hips as you guide your tongue up along his spine. 

Yoongi shivers, chasing your touch. 

“If I knew how sweetly you will present yourself tonight, I would have skipped the dessert”, you say, making him blush. “Now, let us take care of this mess”, you coo and begin to open his hair properly. All the while, Yoongi waits kneeling and bent over. 

You shake out his hair then brush it to one side so you can kiss his cheek and jawline. 

“What a pretty husband you are”, you whisper, smiling at him.

Yoongi doesn’t return it, he simply gazes and gasps for air.

“Now. Let us see what damage you did, mhm?” you tease and snicker, kissing him chastely before moving to the back of him. 

Yoongi holds his breath. This it. The moment of truth. He will have to be very strong from now on. Show no discomfort, please you like a proper husband. It is his duty.

You pull him apart, sending those peculiar tingles through his stomach again. He felt them the first time you did it as well. Yoongi cannot help but tense his fingers.

“This is the most beautiful view. I mean it”, you say, brushing your fingertip down the plug. “I wish to experience it on many nights from now on.”

“Everything you wish, my starlight”, he promises, feeling his stomach tighten. It only comes to him now what tonight truly meant. This is not a singular duty he must perform, with tonight he promises you countless such moments. He is sealing his fate to nights of pain and discomfort and there will be nothing he can do against it because he would never abandon his duties. 

“Ready?”

“Yes, your grace”, he says, biting his own tongue. The pressure on his rim grows and grows until it suddenly bursts and warm tugging replaces it.

“By the goddesses, this is massive”, you get out, gawking at the big plug suddenly appearing out of him. It stretches and bulges his pink hole, glistening in the lights. 

You tug it out completely, moaning at the view of his gaping hole leaking glimmering lube. He shudders, tensing his muscles. The gape disappears but the memory of it remains. 

“I think I just passed out for a moment. You have no idea how your hole looked for a moment, it was…goddesses, Yoongi!”

Yoongi merely hums. It is most peculiar, he actually misses being plugged. How strange, he thought that he would be more relieved but he feels quite the opposite. He feels empty and impatient.

“I cannot wait to see how much bigger I can make it gape”, you confess and look down at your cock. It is made out of a firm yet squeezable material. Only sorceresses can create it through magic, which gives it its signature purple colour and allows the lucky woman to experience her husband entirely. 

You are not new to this practice because it is the only thing your traitorous late husband wanted from you. You threw away the cock you used with him the moment you had settled into your role as queen. It brought you nothing but unsatisfying hours and you did not wish to use it on Yoongi if the time ever came.

This one is so new, Yoongi purchased it just for your shared nights. It feels so special to wear and to know that you will take away its virginity while stealing Yoongi of his’. The thought makes your stomach tingle and your length throb in desire. 

“I love you very much, Yoongi”, you say because you have to say it.

“I love you too”, he answers you in a shaky, clearly nervous voice.

“Don’t be nervous. I will be gentle.”

“I am not nervous.”

Of course he would pretend to be fine. How typical of him. You pick up the jar of lubricant and scoop out a healthy amount to coat your cock with it. You show it to him, sending warm tingles through his stomach. So wet. Yoongi connects such a state with pleasure and good nights. It really arouses him to see you so messy.

“I want you to tell me whenever you wish for more. I order you to, yes?” you say, playing with your slickened tip.

He nods his head obediently, “yes, your grace.”

“And goddesses please, call me sweet names from now on you stuck-up fool”, you chuckle, giving his bottom a gentle spank, “I am your wife right now.”

“Forgive me. Yes, my starlight.”

You reward him with a kiss to his flushed cheek, “good boy.”

Yoongi gawks at you as you pull back, mouth agape in shock. You never used such words for him. With a giggle you kiss him one more time before returning to the back of him while Yoongi is left figuring out why these words make him so giddy.

You pick up more lube and spread it on his hole, making him shift in reaction. How different your fingers feel in comparison to his own. When he did it, he felt normal but your fingers are almost magical as you massage him. So warm and each touch is unexpected. His skin feels so hot all of a sudden.

“How soft you are”, you whisper, circling his rim with two of your fingers. You apply more and more pressure as you do to prepare his hole for penetration. “Goddesses, I can definitely slip inside very easily. You prepared yourself so diligently.”

You pick up one more scoop of lubricant and push it inside his loosened hole. Yoongi gasps, lifting his head just to drop it again and clench around your digits. The invasion is unexpected, but good. It does not hurt, making his stomach tingle.

Why is this so different when you do it? Why is he not uncomfortable? His mind is racing while his insides clench because of your fingers. You scissor them inside him, spreading the lubricant thoroughly. How soft he is.

“You truly prepared yourself so well. I can almost forgive you for running late for dinner”, you tease, curling your fingers.

Pleasure shoots through him, forcing him to groan against his will. What was this? This felt incredibly good to the point he lost control. Yoongi has a difficult time processing the moment because it is not what he expected.

“Now you are forgiven. What a good boy you are”, you coo and pull your fingers out, wrapping them around your cock.

And it is peculiar because Yoongi really, really, misses your digits. 

You align yourself with his slickened hole, drawing circles with your tip. New sensations again, he finds it difficult to process them. 

“Oh this…” You exhale shakily. His warmth against your tip is so intimate. It isn’t like it was with the traitor. With him you dreaded the connection, but with Yoongi you want more. “This feels so good.” 

Your own heart pounds as you push inside. Shaky moans leave you as his tight rim squeezes you before his soft walls hug you instead. He answers you with silence as he holds his breath.

“Yoongi, my beloved…” you sigh, burying yourself deeper and deeper. You have to claim all of him, every inch you can reach shall be yours. It feels so good to be inside him.

Yoongi bites the sheets, furrowing his brows and trying so hard not to tense his muscles. The stretch is constant and painful, it grew and then never got less again.

Unlike with the plug which stretched him gradually and then sat inside with no qualms, your cock opens him with no break, burrowing deeper and deeper into his virgin walls. He feels the pressure in his stomach, twisting the sheets to distract himself from the discomfort. He does not wish to show you that he is in pain. He has to be a good husband.

You bottom out, sighing in happy bliss. Because you have no idea what he is currently thinking, this is paradise for you. His walls constantly tense and relax around you, his warmth soaks deep into you and he is so incredibly soft. This is paradise. This is how this marital act should feel. Good and correct and utterly eternal. 

“My beloved”, you breathe and pull out again. 

Yoongi makes a sound, fighting to get onto his elbows on the mattress. His behaviour is curious at the very least. You know him well enough to take his restlessness as a sign. You do not know yet whether good or bad. You test it out by pushing your cock back inside. 

He stifles another sound as his hips twitch away from you and his hands attempt to pull himself forward. You halt instantly.

“Are you putting on a brave face right now?”

Yoongi tenses up in alarm, staying like this for one breath before he very obviously pretends to be relaxed.

“No, my starlight”, he lies.

“Alright if you say so.” You pull out and push back inside as carefully as possible, watching how he tries to relax but his body still betrays him. He flees from you.

You keep your cock deep inside him and lay your chest down on his back, running your hands along his arms.

“I order you to be honest. Now”, you whisper against his ear, kissing it afterwards.

“It hurts”, Yoongi presses out and whimpers, body sinking into the position in defeat. “I am sorry.”

“Oh Yoongi.” You hug him, kissing his neck and face as best as you can in the position. “Do not apologise. Do you want me to pull out?”

“No. No, I want to be a good husband.”

“You already are. I do not wish to hurt you just to prove it. Perhaps we rushed into it too soon.”

“No please. I cannot disappoint you.”

“You could never”, you assure him, rubbing his pecs and playing with his nipples in hopes that it will soothe him.

“I don’t…ah mhhm-hm”, he shudders, arching his back. His once tense hole relaxes for just a second, his hips seem to actively push back.

“This feels nice, doesn’t it?” you whisper sweetly while your fingers pleasure his pointy nipples. They are very sensitive when he is aroused and hopefully help him relax.

“It does. Ahmm.”

“That’s it, relax into me. If you do not wish to stop, then we will work together to get you there.”

“Yes, my starlight”, he sighs, head sinking deeper into the mattress. Whatever you are currently doing is like magic to him. Your cock hurts less and less inside him as the seconds pass. Your fingers send constant waves of warmth from his nipples down to his insides. He feels safe in your arms and warm between his legs. 

“But I also want you to tell me if this is not working tonight. We can try another night, there is no shame in that. Do you understand, my beloved?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Good boy”, you purr, making him tingle. These two words are like honey to his soul. They make him feel so good. “My good boy”, you whisper, dancing your right hand down to his tied up cock. You swirl your fingertips over it, forcing his hips to twitch up and his hole to clench.

Yoongi has to mewl against his will. For a second nothing hurt. 

“This is nice, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, my love”, he croaks, eyes closed tightly. The night made his length very, very, sensitive and your touch is the most intense sensation he ever experienced. It distracts him from the discomfort between his buttocks and turns his brain into puddy.

“How I love to pleasure you”, you coo and straighten up, scratching your nails down his abs until you reach his cock.

You open the ribbon around his thigh, releasing his flushed length. It springs free instantly, leaking thick droplets of desperation onto the floor. Yoongi moans softly, back rippling in reaction. He wasn’t even aware of how much the ribbon constricted him. 

Your hand is still slickened from the lubricant. You wrap it around his tender cock and begin to pleasure him in a sensual rhythm. You take his heavy balls into your left hand, massaging them while you work his cock.

“I am so glad that she did not order you to cut it off. I love your cock”, you joke, making him laugh breathily.

You twist your hand around his tip, turning his laugh into a throaty moan.

“Ah…yes.”

He tightens around you, twitching. You are so magical, you feel so good. Yoongi swears that if this continues, he will be able to do anything. Even take your length.

You feel that it is working. His once tight rim is relaxing and his fingers loosen around the sheets more and more. You run your eyes down his sculpted back. A thin layer of sweat is covering his skin, glistening in the candle lights. His spine and tailbone form the prettiest dents, perfect for your fingertips to walk along. He looks so delicate and yet he is such a strong warrior.

“I am the luckiest wife”, you share your thoughts out loud, milking his precious cock one stroke at a time while your length enjoys his warm walls. “So incredibly lucky.”

Yoongi sighs, relaxing because of your words. He would never admit it, but praise really excites him. Perhaps it is because of his past and never being seen as attractive, but whenever you praise him Yoongi tastes paradise.

“Yes I am lucky”, you think out loud, sending his heart into overdrive.

You do not know what men go through during their first times, but it must be intense. You remember your own with him and how it was just a little painful at first. You imagine it to be way more intense for him because he is a lot tighter than you were. You want to be gentle with him because you love him so very much. Praise always gets him there, you know him will enough these days and oh, you have so much to give of it. 

“How does this feel?” you ask and move your cock carefully, twisting your hand around his cockhead. Just once to test the waters. Your own pleasure you try to ignore for now even if the movement feels incredible for you. He is so tight.

He tenses for a mere second and relaxes in a shiver. He seemed a lot less uncomfortable than before however which excites you very much.

“Hurts a little”, he confesses, but other than before his hips push back.

“Alright, then we wait. How good you are for me, my starlight.”

“My queen”, he whimpers, spreading his fingers on the sheets. 

You dance your left hand to his stuffed hole and begin to massage his rim with your fingertip. Your right hand keeps a steady rhythm around his cock, exploring his entire length.

“Oh, ahmmm”, he gasps and groans, dropping his stomach so his back is arched. For someone who has never engaged in this activity, he has an impressive arch.

“Good boy, my perfect husband.”

Monitoring his every movement, you pull out and glide back inside while your thumb rubs his rim.

“This feels good”, he mewls, arching his back further. 

“Yoongi”, you moan, stomach tightening desperately. Your hips want to pound him because he excites you so much, but you hold back. He is not yet worked up enough, you have to be gentle.

You pull out and feed him your cock inch by inch. The resistance is miniscule, his body is so willing. Digging deeper and deeper is so intense when it is so slow. You are claiming him, reshaping him to fit only you and it is incredible.

“Are you comfortable?” you ask with a shaky voice and pull out. You circle his rim with your tip. Once. Twice. And push back inside after the third. He opens up willingly, wrapping around your tip and swallowing you easily.

“Don’t stop”, he begs, drinking up every second. It only hurts so very little that he is still comfortable. For some weird reason, the pain is pleasurable. Unlike before when he wanted it to stop, he wants to ride on it now.

“Trust me, I won’t”, you assure him and grab his hip with your left hand. 

“No, please. Keep touching me”, he begs.

“As you wish. Oh, how exciting”, you croak, sliding your thumb to his rim again. You will not complain about this. Feeling the penetration so up close is magical.

“Thank you, ah, thank you ah.”

The view makes you leak. To feel yourself disappear inside him is one thing, but to actually watch it is another. He is so flushed and pink, stretching around your girth whenever you pull out. It is impossible to imagine now that he once struggled to take you with how easy he makes it look now. He is yours. He is truly yours and it finally hits you. 

You lose control over your hips for a moment, thrusting into him quickly. The realisation made you desperate.

“Ah!” Yoongi’s head shoots up, his hands grasp the sheets.

“No, Yoongi! I am so sorry, I lost control and-”

“Again, please”, he begs, whimpers, arching his back.

“Fuck.”

This is all you say and then you pick up a rougher rhythm. You pull out, grasping his buttocks with both hands just to make him gape. His hole fights so very hard to close, but you do not let it, filling it with your cock until you bottom out. 

You do not linger like before, instead you pull out to right under your tip and push back inside. The speed of it, the constant stimulation on your tip, it makes your head turn. And Yoongi takes it so well. He twitches with each thrust, mewls and sighs, and pushes back. He is made for this so it seems.

“Talk to me. Are you comfortable?” you check on him.

“Don’t stop, please”, he begs, holding his breath and gasping for it repeatedly. 

Of course he is comfortable and it confuses him so much. Mistress Lexicana said in her instructions that he will not enjoy his first time, but that he will have to bear it. When you slipped it in and it hurt so much, he believed her. It wasn’t supposed to start feeling so good, but it does and Yoongi has no idea how to act.

“Don’t forget to breathe, my starlight”, you remind him, gasping for your own air as you fill him with a thrust. 

Yoongi exhales in a mewl, scratching down the sheets. He misses you whenever you pull out and burns up whenever you fill him. His thighs are so weak and in his stomach a hot knot is starting to form. He is familiar with such sensations.

What he is not familiar with is the actual insanity going on at his backside. He is so sensitive, the breach is like taking a deep breath after being underwater, your length inside him stirs unfamiliar pleasure deep in his nerves. 

If this is what his future will bring, he will gladly bear the first few minutes of discomfort. Any second of pain is worth it when This follows.

“Are you still enjoying this?” 

“Yes”, he gets out, drooling on the sheets. He is crying on top of it and he likes it. These aren’t bad tears, this is joy. He is yours, he is serving you well, these duties will be easy to bear. He cries because he is so joyous to be a dutiful, good husband. And also because it feels incredible.

“I love you so much”, you growl, showing him your affection with a rough thrust. The angle is different. Deeper and way more precise. 

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy…ah.mmmhmh”, he writhes, stomach tensing and cock leaking. He does not curse often, but cannot help himself right now. He hits the mattress, following it by biting into it and groaning deeply. He arches his back into the opposite direction just to drop it again even better than before.

“There?” You repeat the movement, feeding him your cock to the very hilt.

Yoongi moans loudly and grasps his own hair with both hands twisting it at the nape of his neck. His long fingers are tangled in his blonde locks, his sculpted arms are tense. The tension spreads down to his shoulders and upper back, morphing into softer tension where his back blends into an arch. 

“I am so lucky”, you press out, switching between looking at his hands and his stuffed hole. You watch it bulge whenever you pull out, then watch his hands twitch whenever you thrust back inside.

“Holy fuck a-ah hah-ah.”

This is the kind of restlessness which is so obviously good. He is fully and completely enjoying you. This is just as good for him as it is for you.

“I’m so lucky”, you choke out and moan, letting yourself go completely. He is finally ready. You can fuck him how you want. He is yours for the taking.

“You are amazing, ah my beloved, my Yoongi. Mine. All mine.”

“Please don’t stop, please.”

He never thought himself one to beg. Not him. He knows composure, he can put your needs over his own, he does not ask instead he gives. That is what he follows as your husband. You above him, your pleasure first and his’ second. 

But as you drill your wonderful, amazing cock into him, he cannot help but beg not for you but for himself. He begs because you send him to sweet paradise and he does not want to leave.

“Please don’t stop, please.”

He begs because it feels so good and he does not wish to be denied of it. 

“Please don’t. Ah! Don’t stop.”

He begs because you make him. This is the most selfish he has ever been and it feels as if you are actually rewarding him for it. With each beg, your thrusts become harsher and deeper, your grip on him becomes more possessive. You feel better and better.

“Please, please, please.”

“Yoongi, you drive me insane”, you growl and lift yourself enough so you can fuck him better. You are squatting over him, pushing down on his back until Yoongi slips off the bed. He presses his cheek into the floor, folding his hands in a praying position. He is clasping them so tightly that they shake. His hips chase you, his back arches as if it was its purpose. The lubricant does its job perfectly, filling the room with slickened squelching atop of your shared moans and the slapping of skin.

He is quite literally brought to his knees, pinned to the ground like a beggar pleading for dignity. It should leave him feeling embarrassed or emasculated, but he feels the opposite. This is his purpose, this is utter fulfilment and serendipity. He is finally a proper man. 

He arches into your movements, curling his toes and clenching down on you. 

“My beautiful husband, my everything. Fuck, I’m so happy.”

Yoongi is serving you. He is being a dutiful husband and it feels so fucking good. By the goddesses, it feels so good.

“My queen, my ah! Queen!”

“What’s the matter?” you ask him adoringly while your hips fuck him as if they hated him.

“Soon”, he mewls, twisting his own hair again. The build up is unbearable in the best ways and unlike anything he experienced before.

“A-ah.” Your hips stutter. “Oh Yoongi, ah. Alright, I ah see. Yoongi.”

You expected him to take a little longer for it or perhaps need stimulation of his cock. You feel so proud, so good, so happy knowing that you can get him there with just your length. This is uplifting you. Who would have thought that this act can make you feel like this. Who would have thought that this can be so fulfilling.

“My queen, can I? Please?”

“Whenever you are ready, my starlight.”

“Please don’t stop.”

“Never, my good boy”, you promise him, writing your name against his prostate. It should remember who does this to him, he should know that he is yours.

Yoongi yelps when he breaks. He normally grunts and gasps and occasionally he moans. Such volume is unlike him, pushing you over the edge as well. Your legs shake just as Yoongi’s do. Your stomach tenses just as his’ does. It is difficult for you to move, but you keep going with curses leaving your lips. 

“I can’t stop”, he confesses, hitting the floor with his fist, “___, I can’t stop.”

“I know”, you mewl, chasing the high even if your hips are barely able to move. You have to give it to him properly. He should leave this night feeling like a properly fucked husband.

Yoongi drags his upper body up the bed, crawling away from you while his hips still chase you. 

“I can’t breathe”, he whimpers, panting heavily as he tightens again. This is never ending, this is amazing.

The view will forever haunt you. His sweaty sculpted back tenses. His arms are flexing. His long golden hair is sticking to his skin as his head is thrown back and the warm light of candles hues him in a blanket of light and shadow. Those heavy breaths, the utter display of pleasure, his body completely under your spell. It will haunt you.

This is it. He is helping you reach a second taste of paradise just as you help him ride his third, fourth, fifth. Who is counting? Keeping track is unnecessary when you are sharing a state of utter ecstasy. 

“I can’t anymore. I can’t, ah”, he is pleading afterwards, collapsing against the bed. His cock is twitching so weakly because you milked him dry to the very last drop. His body actively tries to push you out. You are grateful that he had enough because you feel utterly ruined yourself.

“You did so well”, you praise, pulling out of him.

“A-ah”, his voice shakes, his hips twitch up one last time. His gaping hole leaks the creamy lubricant, pulsing repeatedly. He stays just a little open afterwards, so flushed and red. 

You connect your tongue with his messy inner thigh to lick him clean. He parts his legs, purring softly. The purrs turn into gasps when your tongue circles his hole. So soft and tender in contrast to your length. Your happy moans tickle, the gentle penetration which follows makes him bite his lips. 

He is propped on his elbows, grasping his own hair and tilting his hips for you. You pump your tongue in and out his loosened hole, riding on the warm, fuzzy feelings. He tastes so good and is so willing to receive you. Even now, ruined and spent after too many highs, his body hasn’t had enough of you. 

Your gluttony is insatiable, forcing your hand to wrap around his cock.

Yoongi groans, parting his lips. His ears are ringing and he feels lightheaded, but he does not wish to stop you. On the contrary, he welcomes you, pushing his bottom back onto your face while his newly hardened cock throbs between your fingers.

This is not over. Your hunger knows no bounds and Yoongi is your willing meal. He drops his head into the crook of his elbows, hugging his own head. This is so intense. Your tongue is small in comparison to your length, but the sensations are so different that Yoongi once again learns how good sex can feel.

He might never be able to receive a normal handjob from now on. Having your tongue in his hole as you pump him to another orgasm is amazing.

“You are making me climax again”, he confesses, twitching. This one is familiar to him, it spreads from his length. But there is still this warm, magical tingle spreading from his hole which makes this special. 

“Mhhhm”, you purr, curling your tongue. This is exactly what you wished to happen. You had a feeling that he was not finished yet, that parts of him still wanted more. How right you were when moments later, you have him squirting on the floor and sobbing your name.

You moan into him, squeezing your legs together to chase your own high. The very existence of him is enough for you.

“Sensitive please, no more please”, he begs so very sweetly afterwards, fleeing your touch. His cock is finally limb, his legs can barely hold him up. You ruined him.

“Mhhm, already done”, you lull and guide your messied tongue up his back. You switch to kisses when you reach his shoulders, making your way to his face.

He meets your eyes. They are red and teary, gazing at you with devoted submission. His face is flushed.

“How was this for you?” you whisper, scratching his back soothingly. Your heart beats so quickly, you are so happy.

“Really good.”

“Yes? So I could make the pain go away?”

“You did more than that, my starlight.” He forces himself to straighten up, closing the distance to you afterwards to hold you in his arms, burying your face in the crook of your neck with a squeaky mewl.

You sink into his embrace, inhaling his warm, masculine scent. He only smells like this after sex. You are addicted to it and him. His heart is racing, calming down as the minutes pass in your embrace. No words need to be spoken for you and him to understand that this is perfect for both.

“Should we clean up and hold each other in bed?” you ask into the silence when you already begin to feel really sleepy. He shares your state, having a difficult time not to drool on you. 

“Yes, I would like that.”

Yoongi sinks into your arms gladly after you cleaned the last of the mess. You insisted you do it even if he could barely watch you on your knees scrubbing the floors. Not you, not his queen, but you ordered him to stay put.

“You’re my husband tonight. Let me take care of it after rearranging your insides.”

He had no argument against this and quite frankly, your words embarrassed him so much that he wanted to hide away in the pillow. Which perhaps he did with a shy groan.

“So this should be all of it. Goddesses, my legs feel like limb carrots”, you say and find your home under the sheets. You take him into your embrace.

Yoongi gazes up at your face, head resting on your arm and features getting traced by your fingertips. It is difficult to keep his eyes open, he is so tired.

You rub his brow and nose bridge, making it so much more difficult to stay awake. When he is like this, the world outside these four walls means nothing to him. He does not care how weak and vulnerable he appears, how much the court would laugh at him for loving or how his warriors would judge him for displaying such softness. 

Nothing matters when he lies with you, naked and tired after intimacy. Nothing except you and the warmth in his chest.

“Can I confess something to you?” you whisper, eyes filled with adoration and love. It is your truest truth. You love him so much. “And it is very embarrassing for me. Can I tell you?”

He hums a yes.

“I feel so grateful that we waited for so long.”

“Why?”

“Because for the longest time, this practice was soiled for me by memories of the traitor. It was the only thing he wanted me for. He pretended to care for me whenever he wanted it and then left right after without even a word of gratitude or affection. I was scared of how you might receive it for a very long time after we got married.”

“He didn’t deserve you. I would never be this cruel.”

“I know, oh I do. I was just…silly.”

“I understand. You needed time to heal from a hurtful marriage. It took time for you to erase what he did.”

“Yes, exactly.”

“And I needed time to…truth be told, I did not know of this practice.”

“Really?”

He shakes his head, “my duties were to be abstinent. How could I have known what a husband does?” 

“So you never talked to other men?”

“Not about something so private. This is unmannerly.”

You snicker, cradling his cheek, “Yoongi you stuck-up man.”

“I know”, he blushes, “I cannot help it.”

“Goddesses, you.” You pull him into your embrace, allowing him to settle against your chest. “You are so impeccable.”

He hugs you back, body growing soft in relaxation. How incredibly safe he feels in your arms. He will definitely fall asleep soon.

“So Mistress Lexicana introduced you to it. How did that go? I wonder how you were able to even survive such a conversation.”

“I almost did not. I was so embarrassed”, he confesses, making you laugh and ruffle his hair.

“You are a fool”, you say fondly, kissing his head. “It was painful at first, wasn’t it?” 

“Yes, but it wasn’t your fault. You did everything right.”

“Thank you for saying this.” You squeeze him. “But you enjoyed it in the end? Please be honest.”

“Yes, I did. After you helped me relax, it felt very good. I never felt this way before, it was amazing. Thank you for tonight.”

His words of gratitude and appreciation bring tears to your eyes. He is so right for you. You bury your face in the crown of his head, holding him almost greedily tight.

“Oh my beloved Yoongi.”

“And I thought of your spell.”

“You did?”

“Mmh. I think I want to wait just a little longer.” He gazes up at you. “You make me feel so beautiful no matter my scars. When I’m with you, I forget I ever got them.”

Your eyes soften and become glassy. 

“I understand”, you choke out shakily, smiling through your happy tears.

“Are you disappointed?”

“No. No, I am so happy. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

“Are your shoulders tense, my beloved? Have you been hunching again?” 

He earns himself a soft nudge to his hand.

“Why must you always remind me of my terrible posture?” 

“Because somebody has to”, Jimin jokes, making you laugh with it. 

Jimin laughs with you. He loves making you laugh. It is his greatest joy in life. 

“As a matter of fact, I haven’t been hunching today. I believe that I slept wrong.” 

“You seemed lost in a deep sleep today. I dropped my sword today and you didn’t even flinch.”

“I didn’t notice at all”, you say and look at him again, lacing your fingers with him, “I believe it is because I can sleep next to you. I feel at peace with you at my bedside.”

“I feel the same.”

You smile because he will always make you feel better.

Jimin retorts it, stepping back when you stand up. You take your embroidery with you.

“Is dinner ready? Did you come here to get me?” 

“I did. They are making star trout tonight. My favourite. I am already so excited”, Jimin says, holding your hand.

“I told them to do so because today is a special day.”

“A special day?” 

You nod your head and rest it again him afterwards.

“Today is the day I can look at you and call you my beloved.”

Jimin blushes. 

“What are you even saying? You have been able to do so for some time already”, he mumbles shyly.

“Is that so? Would you look at that? Seems that every day in my life has become special”, you are very clearly courting him right now and it is working way too well.

He has nothing to retort, giggling like a giddy boy as he skips beside you and gazes at you as if you were his sunlight. 

He is even blind to the other guards and their fond but also slightly exasperated expressions. One must excuse them. They had to bear witness to way too many romantic moments between you and Jimin ever since you made your love official. A person can only take that many moments before they wish to be left in the dark.

A blanket of tranquillity lies itself upon the castle after dinner. Life has become more peaceful ever since you and Jimin became one. Not just for you and him, but the queendom as well.

Your people always loved Jimin. He is the kind of commander who walks the streets instead of galloping through them on a high horse. He is the kind of commander who helps the sick, the wounded and the weak. His kind heart and loving nature earned the heart of your people long before he became your husband.

Your wedding was a day of celebration and happiness. The queendom genuinely celebrated your connection and life has become more peaceful ever since. Almost as if a flower of security bloomed in the heart of each person.

The hours after dinner are quiet and peaceful. Conversations become whispers. Music becomes melodies in the wind. And the crashing of waves becomes gentle rushing. 

Jimin has to do his last rounds, while you excuse yourself to the library with your handmaidens. It is a tradition of you and them to do a last few stitches before bed.

You are chattering excitedly when Jimin joins you. Their conversations turns into hushed whispers, their eyes run over him curiously.

You look over your shoulder. He is in light armour, sword strapped to his hip belt and dark hair tied back in a tight bun. He is resting his hand on the sword handle, standing by the door. 

“Were your rounds successful?” you ask him and place the cross stitch aside for good. 

You close the distance. Your maids follow you.

“They were successful. The grounds are safe for the night. The guards are on their posts.” 

You and he converse as you make your way to the bedroom. 

“This is good to hear. I made more progress on the mountains.”

“You did? This is wonderful.”

“Yes, indeed.”

You and he stop in front of your bedroom, exchanging a look. Well, you are because for some reason he is stopping which is unusual these days.

“Sleep tight”, he says and bows his head. He steps back, clearly wanting to leave.

“Are you going somewhere?”

He cocks his brow up in confusion and gives a secretive look to your maids to tell you that you weren’t alone. You lift your left hand to show him the very obvious wedding band on it.

“Hey silly, we are married. Everybody knows that we share a bed.”

“Oh”, he blushes and falls around your neck to hide away in embarrassment, “I was so trapped in my nightly routine of making my rounds and reporting to you that I wanted to leave for my room.”

You snicker, patting his back.

“You’re so silly, my beloved.” 

“I feel stupid. This was the stupidest force of habit.”

“You’re not stupid.” You step back and take his hands. “Come, let’s go to bed.”

He nods his head, gazing at you with smitten eyes. He follows you with slightly wobbly knees, seeing nothing and no one but you.

“Please prepare the washing bowls for us and then leave us”, you tell your maids and they hurry to the bathroom while you and Jimin stay back in the bedroom. 

His eyes race between yours, he seems enchanted. 

“Don’t look at me like this”, you whisper.

“I can’t”, he breathes and cups your cheek, “you are the reason why I am grateful for my eyesight.” 

“By Posaida, Jimin”, you gasp, heart fluttering unbearably. 

He doesn’t snicker or giggle or give you a cocky look, which lets you know that what he said came from his heart.

You smile and cradle his face. He leans into your touch, eyes glistening adoringly. 

“May I-”

“Yes”, he interrupts you, “no matter what you want to do to me. Yes.”

“What if I want to shave your hair?”

He laughs. You laugh. 

“Well, maybe not everything.”

“Oh, you”, you snicker and pull him into the kiss you so crave to give him. 

And Jimin kisses you back eagerly, wrapping his strong arms around your waist to pull you closer. Your arms are hooked behind his head, fingers trying to open the ties of his bun. They know their way because it’s been years since you started touching each other even when it was still forbidden.

Within seconds, his bun opens and you can bury your hands deep in his soft hair. He has such luscious locks that your hands are completely hidden in them. Jimin shivers and shudders because of your touch, heart beating the quickest it ever did. He loves you so much.

And you love him just as much. You give him a gentle nudge. The kiss breaks.

“Careful, I don’t want to stumble”, he gasps, looking at his feet.

“Then push me”, you say, twirling with him so he can be the one to lead you to bed. 

He stops in front of it, gazing.

“Can I help you undress?”

“I want you to”, you say.

He dances his fingertips over your shoulders.

“We should probably wait until the maids are gone”, he whispers.

“Right. The maids. Why did I forget about them?” You nudge his cheek. “Probably because my mind is completely occupied with you.”

He blushes shyly, scrunching his nose.

“Don’t speak like this.”

“Why not?”

“Because it makes me blush and I look stupid when I blush.”

“You do not- hah! How dare you! You look very pretty when you blush”, you complain and pinch his cheeks. 

He giggles, chasing the affection. Overtaken by his emotions he wants to hug you only to be stopped by his sword and armour. 

“I should probably help you take off your armour in the meantime. May I?” you offer.

He allows you with a nod of his head. 

You start with the shoulder plates, next his breast and back plate. They are made of leather and strengthened with chain mail. Again, it is his light armour meant to keep him safe but not entirely protected. You put each piece on the armour stand by the window and each time you return to him, he seems more smitten for you. 

Next his sword. You have to get closer to him for it, lips almost touching and hearts racing unbearably.

“Whenever I look at this sword, I think of what I did with it”, you whisper.

His eyes widen, seconds later his cheeks are flushed and he cannot look at you anymore.

“You know what I am referring to, don’t you?”

“I do”, he croaks and clears his throat.

You snicker and walk to the armour stand. You feel so giddy because you get to court him openly and fluster him in the process. This is everything you ever wished for.

When you return to him, his breathing seems raised and he can’t take his eyes off you. 

He gasps when you touch his arms. You shift your eyes to meet his gaze. The kiss you shared before, ruffled his hair. It is hanging into his face alluringly. His eyes, normally so sweet and inviting, are lowered in a lustful, desperate way.

The pull between you and him is so strong. 

You slide your hands to his chest. His pulse is increased, his muscles tense at your touch.

You can’t stay away from him anymore. You have to kiss him. 

Closer.

“My queen, the bathing room is prepared.”

Stop. Break apart. It hurts to be denied.

“Wonderful, ahm”, you clear your throat. “You are free for the night. Thank you.”

Your maids leave after bowing at you. You follow them to the bedroom door and lock it behind them. 

Jimin hasn’t moved an inch when you turn. He still seems as desperate as he was before, looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

“I should probably wash up.”

“I want to taste your moans. Please.”

“By Posaida, Jimin. Control yourself.”

He closes the distance and grabs your hands.

“I can’t. You ruined me, talking about the sword and how you pleasured yourself with it. Please, be with me.”

“I want to be with you, but the day was long and I want to clean myself.”

“You are doing this to torture me, aren’t you? First work me up only to keep me waiting.”

Your tempting lips curl into a playful smile. Jimin moans softly and chases your hands when they dance down his arms.

“Perhaps. I believe it keeps the spirits high.”

“The only thing high right now is me.”

You snicker, “first washing up, then fun.”

Jimin swears that he has never moved as fast as does when it is his turn to wash up. You are already waiting for him in bed, surrounded by your sweet scent. He craves to be with you like a shipwrecked sailor craves the sight of land.

He leaves the bathing rooms in nothing but pants. He stops. You fell asleep. Disappointment plagues him for a moment, shame follows. How dare he feel disappointed when he has the honour of sharing the nightly hours with you.

He closes the distance to his side of the bed, climbing atop. He brushes his hand down your head and arm, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

Your shoulders lift to your ears, a snicker shakes you. First very quiet and shy before it turns into a mischievous giggle.

He says your name, gawking in confusion. 

Your eyes peel open and crinkle as you beam up at him.

“I pranked you. Did you think I fell asleep?” 

“Beloved, you mess with me too much”, he whines, only making your giggle grow.

“I’m sorry, oh forgive me. I had to. You make me want to act childish again”, you say and reach up to squish his cheeks.

Jimin follows your hands, lowering himself until he has to rest his elbows on each side of our head. 

“Truth be told; I couldn’t fall asleep even if I tried. Not until I got the chance to be with you. All of you.”

“Are you sure that you want this?”

“Of course I am. Are you not?”

“I am so sure of it. It is all I could think of when I cleaned myself.”

You drag your thumb over his lips, making him sigh. His eyes cloud over in submission. 

“Then take off my shift, my husband”, you whisper, sending his heart and groin equally parts aflame.

“Only if you take off my pants, my wife”, he answers you, making your heart jump in your chest.

You and he giggle as you get on your knees to undress each other. All these years spent yearning for each other, all these years having to pretend your love wasn’t there, all these years forced to sleep separately. 

Finally being able to call each other wife and husband feels unreal and ecstatic at the same time.

“You first.” “You first.”

You and he say at the same time. You halt, having to share sweet giggles. 

“Please allow me”, you say. 

“Fine, I will allow you”, he gives up.

You place your fingertips on his collarbones, dancing them down to his chest. Goosebumps cover his skin instantly, his nipples harden. 

You rest your hands on them, finding his devoted eyes. 

“When I look at you, I want to worship every single inch of your body”, you say, voice barely above a whisper.

His cheeks flush, he cannot hold your eye contact for even one second longer. He giggles, wrapping his fingers around your wrists just to be closer to you, to make sure that this is real. 

“Shouldn’t this be my task?”

“Not for as long as I have the say”, you tease him just so you can watch his cheeks flush more vividly. 

You kiss them. One by one. Jimin cannot decide whether to hold his breath or gasp for air. Perhaps both. Perhaps he holds his breath until his lungs ache and then he gasps repeatedly. You have him messed up and you have barely even done anything.

You guide your kisses down his neck. His pulse races under your lips, his fingers tremble around your wrists. 

“Are you nervous, my beloved?” you whisper against his ear. 

“No, I’m excited”, Jimin sighs, shivering.

“Me too. I’m so excited.”

You slip your wrists out of his weakened grasp so you can dance your hands down to his tummy. His muscles tense under your touch, his chest heaves up and down quickly. You begin fumbling with his pants and Jimin swears that his heart might burst. 

He is so excited.

“Mine. All mine”, you promise and seal it on his skin with a hickey on his neck. Your hands slip into his pants, cupping his buttocks.

Jimin squeaks out a gasp, opening his eyes. He hears his pulse in his ears, air suddenly feels like luxury.

“I wondered…”, you whisper sweetly, lulling him into an honest sense of tranquillity, “...and you can deny me of course, if you ever wasted a thought on the duties of a husband.”

Jimin feels every single movement your hands make on his bottom. He has to grasp your waist in order not to tumble from dizziness.

You change sides, whispering against his neck so sweetly that he feels charged in arousal. 

“I’m only wondering of course and there is still so much time. We have barely been wife and husband, there is no rush”, you kiss his favourite spot, marking it afterwards. 

Jimin whimpers, closing his eyes. You must be magical because he feels charmed beyond rescue. Not that he needs rescuing. He is exactly where he wants to be, thanking the goddesses for each passing second he gets to spend as your husband.

“Was this a good sound?” you ask, lifting your head. You take your hands away, eyes racing over his face. “Have I gone too far? What did this mean?”

“I feel very submissive right now.”

“So…is this a yes? A maybe? A no? A sometime later? A now? Or a never?” You babble, widening your eyes nervously. 

Jimin wants to be with you. He read about it in a book and he isn’t blind to tradition. He knows of the marital duties a husband is expected to fulfill. There are some women who do not take their husband’s comforts into account, but you are not such a woman. 

Jimin is still scared of being taken even though he really wants it. What if it will hurt? The book he read was written by a woman who clearly loved her husband. She described that the first time will be painful regardless of how careful one will be. She described what to do to make it possible before going into great detail of the many ways this specific act can be performed. 

It was a few days after you and he returned from the honeymoon when he snuck away at the dead of night to read the specific book. He wanted to be prepared “for the worst” but the more he read, the more his curiosity grew. Perhaps a painful first time could be worth it for the rest of it.

“You are quiet an awfully long time. Just forget I even brought it up. I don’t know what came over me”, you say and lean in to kiss him. 

Jimin stops you, “I want to do it.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but I think…you have to take it slow. I’m scared that it will hurt.”

“Of course I will take it slow. We can go as far as you are comfortable.” You cradle his cheeks. “We have all the time in the universe, don’t we? Let’s take it slow and savour the journey.”

“I would like this a lot.”

“Me too.” You pull his forehead against yours. “I’m so happy that we have time, Jimin, that I can dedicate every second on you without having to feel guilty.”

“Me too. I’m so happy”, he chokes out, having to kiss you afterwards. He has to. He just has to. 

You share his desperation, kissing him back as if you were running out of time. Even if you just spoke about having endless time. 

Your hands drop to his hips and begin to tug his pants down. His cock springs free first, twitching against his stomach. He has been hard ever since you began touching him, moaning against your lips upon finally being free. 

You answer him with a purr, hands working his pants over his sculpted behind. Truly, you have never seen a man with a more tempting bottom. Your heart skips beats at the mere thought that you will claim it as yours tonight. 

You dreamt of doing so even long before you married him. Back then you were aware that this kind of intimacy is only meant to be performed between wife and husband. Merely thinking about it, you felt like a scandalous woman. Ever since you married him however, these thoughts have become more and more vivid.

You will have him tonight like only a wife is allowed with her husband.

You break the kiss with a shaky whimper. Jimin instantly cradles your cheeks, studying your face.

“What’s the matter?”

“I’m just so happy. I dreamt of this moment for so long.”

“You have?”

You nod your head, caressing his waist.

“To be able to do this with you means so much to me. I get to be with you how only a wife can be.” 

The situation finally sinks in for him properly. He never even thought of it this way. That he gets to perform this duty because he is a husband now. Your husband. Legally, publicly and eternally he is yours. 

“My beloved”, he chokes out, “I never thought of it this way. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Jimin beloved. Oh you, just come here.”

You make him fall with a push to his chest. Jimin sits back onto his heels, stopping you with a snicker.

“Let me take off my pants first. I cannot move my legs.”

“Ah, yes. Forgive me. Go ahead.”

Jimin lies down on his back and takes off his pants this way. He throws them onto the ground, finally looking at you. 

“When did you?” he gasp, eyes widening in awe at the view of your naked body. Your skin looks so silky and soft in the candle lights, your curves are so perfectly you. Jimin feels mesmerised by your breasts and enchanted by your cunt.

“By Posaida, my beloved…”

You smile at him, closing the distance with a sensual crawl. Jimin gets up onto his elbows, meeting your touch when you cradle his face.

“You are beautiful”, he whispers, gazing into your eyes.

“As are you”, you breathe, kissing him very briefly before you pull away. “Wait for me here.”

“Anything you need me to do”, he promises, chasing your touch until he physically cannot anymore. He drops into the pillow, following you with his eyes as you make your way through the room.

Your naked body is both art and temptation to him. He wants to admire it for the artwork that it is while at the same time, lust after it desperately. He is so lucky to be yours.

“My dear friend sent me these things ages ago when I was still with…well, you know my story.”

“I do.” He rolls to his side. “Have you? With him?”

“No. Of course not. We were never like you and I, you know that.”

“Yes, but he was your husband. The duties were still part of the contract.”

“I didn’t care about them and neither did he. I only have the tools because of my friend.” You pick up a jewellery case made of ebony wood. “They will be yours to feel first and forever after.”

You climb back on bed and place the case between you and him. Jimin sits up. 

“Open it.”

He obeys your order, holding his breath for it. He places the lid aside, finally daring to look. 

“Oh.” 

“This is only part of what she sent me. The bigger ones are stored away for later.”

Atop red satin, three strangely shaped glass figures lay. One of them is shaped like, for a lack of better imagery in Jimin’s scrambled mind, a cone with a flat base. The second is vaguely phallus shaped with an unfamiliar texture along the shaft. And the last are very clearly three bells connected by a red string. They grow in size. 

“What do you make of them?”

“I have never seen such tools before.”

“Aren’t they arousing to look at?” 

“They are. But also kind of scary. Do you think it’s safe?”

“Yes, they are safe. Jimin”, you get out his name, drawing closer, “I want you. I want to make this feel good for you.”

“I want to be taken by you”, he confesses and places his hands over yours. He craves your kiss.

“Then choose what you want tonight.”

He picks the glass cone because it looked the easiest to take. 

“The anal plug. A good choice”, you say and put the box aside. 

“Is that what it is called?” 

“Yes, I read about it in books.”

“You read it as well?”

You meet his eyes, “wait. You did as well?” 

He nods his head.

“Is this where the first volume disappeared to? I was wondering where it went.”

He blushes, looking at his lap, “maybe.” 

“Jimin, you sneaky man”, you laugh.

“I have been following the preparation steps each night in case you ever wanted me this way”, he confesses.

“You have?” 

“Yes. They are comfortable in a way.”

“Oh, I want you so bad”, you growl, pushing him down into the pillow just to attack his face with kisses. 

Jimin both giggles and moans, writhing sensually. Your breasts are pressed against his chest, your heated warmth is grinding against his thigh. He feels so aroused and at the same time so giddy because you kiss him so sweetly.

“Mhm you drive me mad, mhm”, you mumble between kisses. One last kiss on his lips then you sit up. “I have to control myself or I will ride you right here and now.” 

His cock twitches and leaks.

“I know he would like that, wouldn’t he?” you coo, giving his tip a little rub. 

Jimin instantly gasps, rolling his hips up. The effects of your touch shoot through his body like lightning.

“So sensitive, how pretty”, you purr, abandoning his lap afterwards. 

You open a jar of some sort of cream and show it to him. It is white and opaque, glistening in its container. It is scentless.

“Is this lubricant?” 

“Indeed it is.”

Jimin gulps. This is it. The moment he finally takes on his journey of becoming your true husband. 

He flips onto his stomach and pulls his right leg up to his torso. His left leg he keeps stretched out while his sculpted arms are under the pillow he uses for his head. 

“I’m ready”, he whispers, having his eyes closed. 

You feel breathless at his display of unwavering trust just as much as you feel breathless at his presented body. 

Tattoos of the moon phases are placed along his spine. He got them when he began working as your Queen’s Guard as his promise to always be loyal to you. Back then, the promise was hidden behind lies of knightly duties. It wasn’t an unusual symbol to get after all because your sigils are the five phases of the moon above the ocean stitched in silver onto aquamarine velvet. 

“Your tattoo is beautiful, my beloved”, you praise, circling your thumbs down his back until you have reached his buttocks. 

You finally dare a look. A gasp leaves you within the first second. 

Except your own when you checked in the mirror out of curiosity – as one does of course – this is the first hole you see. It looks so delicate and very tight.

“Your hole is very arousing to view.”

Your praise makes him clench. Your stomach tingles at the view. You have to explore him otherwise you will go mad.

“Can I touch you?” 

“Yes.” 

You slather your fingers in the lubricant and connect them with his rim. He gasps at the contact, tensing his body. You can only imagine how nervous he must feel. 

“Does this relax you?” you ask, circling his tight rim with two fingers. You hope that it does. You could never forgive yourself if you hurt him.

“Yes”, his voice is very breathy and quiet, but he seems truthful. And he is. This does more than just relax him, this arouses him. He thought it impossible to have another spot which matches his cockhead’s sensitivity but this does. Your fingers feel amazing against his rim.

“More.” 

You increase the pressure on his rim, deepening the pleasure immensely. Jimin pulls his leg farther up, sticking up his bottom. It exposes more of his hole to you. He is pink inside. You never would have guessed. Oh how you want to stretch him out.

He seems so willing. Perhaps if you tried with your pointer finger. The lubricant works very well, allowing your digit to slip past his tight ring of muscle with little struggle. As a matter of fact, it works so well that you accidentally bury your entire finger in his hole in one push.

Jimin lets out a rather loud sound, hips twitching vigorously. He groans afterwards, twisting the sheets as his poor hole throbs around the sudden intruder.

“Shit. Sorry”, you gasp, “the lubricant made me slip, I’m so sorry.”

“I-its fine”, he assures you, clenching around your finger. It is more than fine. It is intense but so good.

“Are you in pain?”

“No. It feels weird, but in a good way.”

“So I can do this?” You move it.

Jimin yelps and buries his face in the pillow. A kick of his leg follows while his arms tense rather vigorously. 

“Fuck, did this hurt?”

He shakes his head, pushing back on your finger.

“Can I do it again?”

He nods his head vigorously, pushing back more enthusiastically just to get the message across.

You pull out and glide back inside, making him groan loudly. His voice is muffled by the pillow, but the utter bliss of it still reaches your ears and turns you on without rescue. It also helps that you can watch his toes curl.

So you do it again and again and again. He might be the one getting penetrated, but it still feels just as good to you. His rim is very tight around your finger, squeezing down each time you bottom out. His walls are so warm and soft. This is so good. He is moaning so much more blissfully with each new thrust.

Every sound he lets out is truthful. Jimin thinks that this is the most intense and amazing thing he has ever done. This feels so good. Everything. Every single second of it.

At first it was weird. Up until now, his hole’s purpose was to keep stuff inside until it was time to do his business. Not in a million years would he have thought that he would ever take something up his hole instead of letting go of it. The penetration was weird at first because it was unfamiliar. 

The initial weirdness is gone by now. As a matter of fact he misses the stretch whenever you pull out your finger and wishes for more whenever you penetrate him deep.

“Beloved, can you add another finger please?” he begs.

“Anything you need. Here it comes.” 

“Oh fuck, urgh”, Jimin growls and bites the pillow, pushing back on your fingers.

“Good?” 

“Hmhm”, he assures you with a blissfully twitching body. It is amazing. Two fingers are so much more intense and of course unfamiliar again. Unlike before however, Jimin welcomes the unfamiliarity, he wants it. He feels dizzy in bliss at the mere thought that he can take more.

He is finding out a lot about himself right now. Who would have thought that the aspect of “how much and how big?” can be so arousing to think about. Here he is with two of your digits inside his tight hole and he already thinks about the “more”.

“This feels so good”, he gets out as he fucks himself on your fingers repeatedly. The stretch, the feeling of fullness, the act of penetration. Everything feels so very good that Jimin cannot stop moving. Or moaning for that matter.

“I can’t believe this is happening. This is a dream”, you get out, keeping your hand still as you watch him chase your fingers. His pink hole moves and stretches around them. You never knew that it could look like this. It is so arousing.

Jimin moans in answer, clenching down on your fingers. He shares your sentiment. This is a dream and he hopes to never wake up. As a matter of fact, he wants to fall deeper. 

“I want the toy”, he begs. 

“Shit, I mean, yes okay.” You pull out your fingers to get the toy ready. “You have to excuse my language tonight, I can’t stop cursing.”

“Curse all you want, this is fucking amazing.”

You snicker. He is so funny. 

“I agree. It is.” You connect the slickened toy with his relaxed hole. “Ready?”

“Yes, ready.”

You place your fingers on each side of his rim so you can stretch him a little bit and therefore make it easier. Your fingers definitely loosened him up, but he is still very, very small in comparison to the toy.

“I’m so scared to hurt you, please tell me the second I do”, you say.

“Yes.” He presents more of his bottom. “Please push it in.”

You apply pressure. Jimin tenses up.

“Relax, beloved.”

“Sorry, it’s a little uncomfortable.” He obeys as best as possible, gripping the pillow instead. His heart is pounding. He is so nervous in a good way. 

“Do you want to stop?” 

“No, keep going please. I think I like it.”

“Alright. Just listen to my voice. Relax and enjoy, my beloved. You are my husband now, let me make it real.”

Your voice works wonders. Jimin feels as if he is floating on clouds. He doesn’t want to tense up anymore, he wants to melt. The once uncomfortable pressure turns into a warm tingle. It grows more and more until it tickles uncomfortably again. Jimin welcomes it, breathing through it and thinking to himself that deep down it feels really good.

“You are doing so well. The thickest part is almost in. Just keep listening to my voice. Nothing can hurt you. You are the best husband, my dream.”

Nothing hurts anymore and yet Jimin spills tears. He is your husband. Forever. The tingle reaches its crescendo and suddenly dies out within a second. He feels it deeper inside while his rim sits around something with the girth of your finger. 

His pulse throbs around the toy, he can feel it. Just as he can feel his walls attempt to get comfortable around it. It is so much harder than your fingers. And colder, pinching deep inside as his walls convulse from the temperature. 

He whimpers because of it, gathering more of the sheets between his fingers.

“Jimin, holy shit. You did it. How are you feeling?”

“Like yours.”

“You do?” you gasp.

He nods his head vigorously, clenching down. He relaxes instantly, biting his tongue. This is definitely a little painful, but he still doesn’t want it gone. It arouses him. Pain means that he is taking something bigger, that he is getting stretched out. The thought makes him leak into the sheets. 

“I’m yours”, he chokes out, feeling far away.

“Jimin”, you choke out and drop into the sheets beside him. You pull his head up by his hair and tug him in for a kiss. Your arm closes around his head, palm cradling his cheek as you kiss him senseless. 

Jimin swears that he has never been kissed like this. Or that he has ever been as aroused as he is right now. He thought that normal sex with you feels amazing, but this is on another level. Each time he tenses his muscles, the toy shifts inside him and turns him into a proper husband.

He cannot lie, the first few minutes with the toy inside were uncomfortable. He didn’t dare move or tense because it pinched inside. And then he suddenly found himself clenching on purpose because he wanted to feel it again. The toy is lodged so perfectly deep and the stretch is addictive. Nothing hurts anymore, everything feels so good. 

Actually, there is one thing which hurts. His cock. He wants to be inside you.

“Ride me, please”, he begs.

“With the toy inside?”

“Yes.”

You growl into the kiss, feeding him your tongue as you flip him onto his back. The new pressure definitely makes him aware of the toy. Bolds of hot pleasure shoot through his lower body.

“Shit”, he gasps against your lips, arching his back.

The kiss breaks.

“Are you in pain?”

“No, I don’t want it to end”, he mewls, grinding his ass down into the mattress. He can shift the toy like this. There is a spot inside him which tingles like crazy anytime the toy presses against it. “This feels amazing.”

“I am so desperate for you. Oh so desperate.”

You do not waste time in dragging it out. Playing with his hole, feeling him and watching the toy stretch him out aroused you so much that you are leaking. You need to sit on him right this instant or you will implode. 

You sink him in hastily, tasting his blissed moan and answering him in a purr.

“Mine.” 

“Yours. Forever”, he whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut. He lets you pull him up into a sitting position, moaning against your lips when this increases the pressure on the toy. “Please don’t stop. Please.”

“Never.”

His arms wrap around you, his fingers dig into your soft parts. He needs it. He needs to grasp something, otherwise he would crumble. It is already paradise to be welcomed in your warmth, but to be plugged up as it happens changes his definition of paradise. He moans against your lips, tightening his hold on you. 

“That’s it. Hold me, my beloved. Hold me”, you praise, caressing his scalp as you dance your hips on his length. You clench each time you lift your hips and shudder whenever he is deep inside. He grinds against your favourite spots while your clit rubs against his stomach. You will never get enough of him. Never. 

Your name leaves his throat, his eyes open so he can stare at you in blissful submission. His cheeks are flushed, pearls of tears sit on his dark lashes.

“Can you feel the toy?” 

“Yes”, his voice is shaky as it leaves him.

“Does it add something?”

“So much. Ah”, he drops his head against your chin because it falls there naturally, “___, please don’t stop.”

“I won’t. Ah, Jimin”, you moan and shift your head so his face falls against your neck. You hug him just as he hugs you, while your hips dance on him passionately. 

Quite frankly, it is impossible to talk. The connection you currently experience renders you mute. Living for the other and basking in the burning pleasure is everything you can do. Others might call you unhealthily obsessed with him, but you do not agree. You have wanted him for years. You have loved him even longer. Your obsession will never be too much. You are mad for him, starving whenever you have to be far from him and glowing whenever he is near. 

“You’re mine.” 

“Yours”, he drags out, keeping his pretty mouth open afterwards because he cannot seem to find the strength to close it. It is his most beautiful look. His eyes are half-lidded and droopy, his puffy lips are so flushed, his cheeks match in colour. Truly, he has never looked better before and it all belongs to you. 

Every change in expression, every noise, every tremble of his body. Yours. All yours.

His name leaves you in a desperate moan as your hips speed up. Skin slaps against skin, the distance shrinks. Jimin wails, throwing his head back. His legs shake, his back arches. 

“What’s wrong?”

“You are going to make me climax.” 

“Fuck, Jimin. Fuck, this is so fucking hot”, you growl, feeling your own body get closer and closer to the end. 

You are bouncing on him with such vigour that Jimin is forced to bounce on the toy. The strength of your hips guides his own up and down on the plug, giving him a taste of how it will be once you truly fuck him. Each time you slam your hips down, his hole swallows the plug, grinding it right against the sensitive spot which has begun to throb by now. His rim is so stretched out that it barely feels the rough penetration. The sensitivity of it makes up for it, forcing his stomach to convulse. 

Jimin wants to scream. He might have to once he orgasms. And if this continues it won’t be with his cock. He has never felt this way before. It is bloody addictive.

“I have to. I-I really have to.” 

“I won’t stop you. Give me everything”, you encourage him, burying the toy deep inside him as you slam your hips down. 

“___”, Jimin sobs and falls into the sheets as the unknown orgasm washes over him. He cries, pressing his hands to his eyes and arching his back. 

You have never seen his stomach convulse like this or felt his legs shake in such ways. Is this it? The orgasms you read about in your books? The ones which last for ages and which will change a man forever?

“I can’t stop. Ah! Ah please, ah!” Jimin wails, writhing helplessly.

“Fuck, this is insane.” 

This is it. This is actually it. You can feel him bumping you full of it with such vigour that it almost feels like a sin. Almost. You enjoy the sin. You want it. You chase it with sloppy hips and a leaking cunt while Jimin cries underneath you because it just doesn’t stop. 

It doesn’t stop. It feels so good and it doesn’t stop. 

He kicks the sheets, he twists his hair, he tugs on the sheets and grips the pillow and yet it doesn’t stop. As a matter of fact, it begins again. A new wave. Deep inside his body, the kind which makes his lower stomach cramp and his legs feel like melted wax.

“By fucking Posaida, ah!”

“Jimin, my beloved.” 

It doesn’t help that you find your own bliss and therefore tighten around him. You drop on him, breasts squeezing against his chest and breath tickling his neck. He accidentally bruises your bottom as he grips it for dear life, his legs tremble uncontrollably. He makes noises he didn’t even know that he could make. 

How oh how will he ever be able to survive the night once you and he start with the bigger toys? How will he be able to leave this room tomorrow and act normal after tonight?

He grips you until both your orgasms die down. The room is silent, only your shared gasps for air are heard. He orgasmed so much that your stomach feels bloated from it. It is trickling out of you slowly. You are dizzy and you can only imagine how Jimin must feel.

“This was amazing. My beloved, are you feeling alright?” you ask him, kissing his neck gently.

“Yes”, he whispers and shudders, “I don’t know what happened.”

“You had your first anal orgasms. Did you like them?”

“It was as if I was born anew and as if my body was hit by lightning at the same time. It didn’t want to stop.” 

“You screamed so much.”

“Ah, please.” He throws his hand over his eyes and laughs in embarrassment. “I feel so ashamed. Do you think that somebody heard me?”

“If they did, all they heard was my husband getting fucked right”, you say and sit up as best as your weakened body allows you to. You grin, rubbing your hands up and down his sweaty torso.

“Don’t say that”, he whines, hiding away. 

“But I just did.” You kiss his forehead. “You’re my husband and I will keep saying it.”

“Even if it embarrasses me?”

“Especially because it does.”

“I see”, he says and laughs. 

You join him, laughing between kisses to his face. You love him so much.

“Ah Jimin, my beloved”, you sigh, sitting up so you can take in the ruined view of him. You like that, despite everything, he is still a little swollen inside you. You like having him close to you. It tingles so very nicely.

He meets your eyes, reaching up to caress your breasts. He knows that he is allowed to do so, basking in your soft sighs and the faint wiggles of your hips. 

“I’m so happy”, he whispers.

“I’m happy too. And very leaky, I ought to clean us up.”

“I can help”, he sits up only to be pushed back into the pillow.

“Let me take care of you.” 

“Fine”, he gives up because he knows that discussions are fruitless. He watches you climb off him and giggles with you as you leak all over his thighs.

“You really enjoyed yourself, didn’t you?” you tease.

“I did. You have no idea.”

“I think I might be getting an idea”, you say, rubbing your own stomach and flustering Jimin in the process. “Thank Posaida for fertility control spells, am I right?” you coo and nudge his messy length.

Jimin knows exactly what you are insinuating and it flusters him dearly. If it wasn’t for your queendom’s sorceress to put a fertility prevention spell on his seed, you and he would already be producing children like rabbits. It is an unofficial rule on the continent that men have to get these spells done to them to prevent pregnancies. Birth control shouldn’t be a burden the women have to carry, it is the responsibility of men to provide safe sex for their women. Jimin gladly underwent the procedure. It didn’t hurt and only took ten minutes. It also protects the body from spreadable diseases and it is entirely reversible if the loving couple ever decides that they want to start a family.

To think that you are currently insinuating that he already would have gotten you pregnant without the spell because of how passionately he orgasmed flusters him. He whines, hiding his face behind his hand and making you laugh in the process.

“You are so easily flustered, my beloved”, you tease and climb off the bed to get a washing bowl from the bathing room.

You return to him already cleaned up, climbing on bed to begin the process. He watches you, massaging your left breast mindlessly. He likes holding them because they are so soft and feel good when he squeezes them. Very gently of course, he does not wish to hurt you.

“I know that you are enjoying my breasts right now, but I have to flip you to get your bottom.”

“Yes, alright”, Jimin works with you, returning into his previous position as if he was meant to present his hole to you. Quite frankly, after tonight he believes that he is.

“It even got on here”, you say, wiping the white mess off his inner thighs and buttocks.

“I couldn’t stop.”

“I know. How good you are, my beloved.” 

Jimin melts from the praise but tenses up in anticipation when he feels your fingers part him. He shifts his hips, presenting more of him to you.

“The material of the toy makes it so that I can see inside you. Oh if only there was a way to capture what I see, Jimin. This is such a beautiful view.”

Jimin exhales shakily. He can only imagine how it must look.

“I will take it out now. Are you ready?” 

“Yes, I am.”

You tug carefully, rubbing his buttock for comfort. Not that Jimin needs comfort, his once tightened muscles became so relaxed and willing around the toy. Taking it out feels good, leaving his hole to gape for a few moments.

“Fucking shit.”

Jimin tenses and the gaping disappears.

“Fucking hells, Jimin. Your hole was so open for a moment. This just made my cunt throb.”

“Do you mean it?” he gasps, reaching behind himself to feel his own hole. His fingertips slip in easily, he feels so loosened up and soft. “Argh”, he whines, hiding away in embarrassment.

“I know. This is amazing. When we move on to bigger toys, I know that we will use this plug first to loosen you up.”

“I really want to move on, beloved. I know that I could do it.”

“I’m sure of it, beloved. How eager you are”, you coo as you clean his messy hole. You wipe him dry with a second towel afterwards then kiss a path along his spine until you can blanket him under you and nibble on his neck. 

“All done.”

You and he roll to your sides so he ends up as your little spoon and you end up with him in your arms. He instantly holds your hand, playing with your fingers mindlessly. 

“I really loved tonight”, he confesses, suddenly feeling oh so sleepy.

“I loved it too.”

“Can we do it again tomorrow?” 

You smile, kissing his head, “did someone get a taste for anal?”

“Yes”, he laughs breathily, nodding his head. “Yes, definitely.”

“Mhm, you are so sweet.” You pull him closer, draping your leg over his waist. “Yes, we can do it again tomorrow.”

3:12.

He’s been staring at the clock all day waiting for you to get back.

"Fuck," Wooyoung muttered under his breath, drumming his fingers against the kitchen counter. The rhythmic tapping matched the second hand of the clock, each tick louder than the last. He'd cleaned the apartment twice, reorganized his vinyl collection, and even attempted to cook. He burned the shit out of the rice, but whatever. None of it helped.

4:37.

The apartment smelled like charred rice and impatience. Wooyoung paced from the living room to the bedroom for the fifteenth time, kicking a stray sock out of his way with more force than necessary. His phone buzzed in his pocket—another useless notification. Not you. Never you when he wanted you most.

5:09.

The key turned in the lock just as Wooyoung was debating whether to text you for the third time in twenty minutes. His head snapped up so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet scrambling toward the door. You barely had time to drop your bag before he was on you, hands gripping your waist like he’d drown if he let go.

"Jesus, Wooyoung—!" You gasped as his teeth scraped your neck, his whole body pressing you back against the wall. Your keys clattered to the floor, forgotten. His hands were already under your shirt, rough and desperate, like he'd been counting the seconds skin-to-skin.

“I missed you,” Wooyoung breathed against your skin, his voice ragged with want. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you flush against him so you could feel exactly how much. “You were gone too fucking long. I was about to explode.”

"That’s what work’ll do to you, sweet thing," you muttered, tipping your head back against the wall as Wooyoung's lips trailed fire down your throat. His hands were everywhere at once—under your shirt, tugging at your belt loops, pressing insistently between your thighs like he couldn’t decide which part of you to claim first. "Okay! Can I declutter first?!"

Wooyoung let out a frustrated groan, his forehead dropping against your shoulder as you pushed him back just enough to wiggle out of your coat. "Mmh no," he whined, fingers immediately hooking into your belt loops to drag you close again. "Declutter later. Me now." His breath hitched when you arched an eyebrow, unmoved, and he squeezed his eyes shut like a kid denied candy. "Please, mommy."

"Uh-huh. Coat first." You shoved him back again, this time with enough force that he stumbled a step, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout that would’ve been comical if his eyes weren’t so dark with hunger.

You shrugged out of your coat, hanging it neatly on the hook by the door like the slowest possible torture. Wooyoung made a wounded noise in the back of his throat, fingers twitching at his sides like he was physically restraining himself from grabbing you again.

“Aw, bunny,” you cooed, reaching out to pinch Wooyoung’s flushed cheek while he glared at you. His hand shot up to grab your wrist before you could pull away, his grip tight but not painful, just insistent, like he needed the contact to breathe.

“You’re so fucking mean,” he grumbled, but the way his thumb rubbed circles into your pulse point betrayed him.

"Mean?" You smirked, letting him drag you closer by the wrist until his chest bumped yours. "You're the one who nearly broke the door down when I walked in."

Wooyoung's grip on your wrist tightened just enough to make your breath catch. "You like it," he muttered, lips brushing the inside of your palm before he nipped at the skin there, sharp enough to sting. You hissed, but the sound twisted into a laugh when he immediately soothed the bite with his tongue, eyes flicking up to yours like a challenge.

"You're such a brat," you sighed, but the way your fingers curled into his hair gave you away. Wooyoung grinned against your palm, all sharp edges and smug satisfaction, before suddenly dropping to his knees with a thud that made you jump. His hands slid up your thighs, slow and deliberate, fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants like he owned them.

“Oh—okay, in front of the door. That’s cool,” you muttered, but Wooyoung was already tugging your pants down your hips before you could finish the sentence. His teeth grazed the inside of your thigh, biting just hard enough to make your breath hitch, and you barely had time to brace yourself against the wall before his mouth was on you, hot and wet and relentless.

“Woo—” Your protest died in your throat when he sucked hard enough to make your knees buckle. He tugged at your underwear with his teeth, tongue dragging across the fabric and creating a noticeable wet patch.

His fingers dug into the backs of your thighs as he yanked you forward, nearly knocking you off balance. You barely caught yourself on the wall, fingers scrambling for purchase as Wooyoung’s tongue licked a hot stripe through the fabric.

“Jesus—Woo, the door,” you gasped, half-concerned about neighbors, half-distracted by the way his teeth scraped against your clit through the soaked material. He ignored you, peeling your underwear aside with his thumb, mouth already moving like he’d mapped out every inch of you in his head while you were gone.

The wet sound of his mouth working against you was obscenely loud, the noises leaking into the hallway past the open front door, and you bit your lip hard enough to taste copper when Wooyoung groaned against your skin, the vibration shooting straight to your core.

His fingers dug bruises into your thighs as he yanked you closer still, his nose bumping against your clit with every messy lick like he was trying to drown himself in you. “Fuck, mommy,” he panted against your skin, lips slick and swollen, “you taste so good—fuck—”

The hallway air was thick with the sound of skin and desperate breaths, your fingers twisting in Wooyoung’s hair hard enough to make him whine, not in protest, but encouragement. He lapped at you like a man starved, his tongue flat and broad as it dragged up your slit, slow just to feel you twitch against his mouth.

"S-Shit," you hissed, your hips rocking forward, chasing the heat of his lips. He chuckled, the vibration making your thighs tremble, before sucking your clit into his mouth.

You glance at the door. Jesus, if he hadn’t’ve trampled you like that, you would’ve been able to close it. You reached toward it, your fingers stretching, and then he growled into your skin, sucking hard enough to make your vision white out.

“You started this with the door—” You moaned when he sucked harshly on your clit. “—s-still open!”

Wooyoung’s fingers dug harder into your thighs when you tried to reach for the door again. “Leave it,” he mumbled against your skin, tongue flicking over your clit just to feel you jerk against his mouth. His lips were slick with you, spit-smeared and glistening, and the sight of him kneeling there. His eyes locked on yours made your stomach twist.

Your fingers tangled harder in his hair, hips jerking forward when Wooyoung’s tongue curled just right. "Someone’s gonna—" you started, cut off by his teeth grazing your clit. The groan that ripped out of you echoed louder than you intended. Wooyoung’s smirk was palpable against your skin.

Your noises bled into the hallway, but didn’t care. Wooyoung’s tongue was relentless, his nose pressed tight against you as he sucked your clit like it was the only thing keeping him alive. Your thighs trembled, knees threatening to give out. “Fuck—” you gasped, fingers tightening in his hair.

“I’m close,” you whimper, voice cracking as Wooyoung’s tongue fucks into you faster. The words barely register, he’s too busy humming against your skin, drunk on the way you clench around his mouth.

The door creaked louder than your gasp when Wooyoung shoved two fingers into you without warning. His mouth never left your clit, sucking harder as your thighs clamped around his head. “Fuck, Woo—!” You jerked against the wall, heels skidding on the hardwood.

Your fingers twisted tighter in his hair, hips jerking forward when his tongue curled just right. "Oh my god, please—" The words dissolved into a choked moan as Wooyoung's teeth grazed your clit. The sound bounced off the hallway walls, too loud, too shameless. His smirk burned against your skin.

Without warning, your legs started to tremble. You grip onto his hair, your knees buckling as Wooyoung licks into you like a starving man. His fingers curl inside you, pressing deep, just the way you like it.

“Fuck, I’m cumming—!”

Your thighs clamped around Wooyoung’s head like a vice, the heel of your foot digging into his back as your orgasm ripped through you. His tongue didn’t let up, if anything, it got worse, licking into you through the tremors until you were shoving at his shoulders with a whimper. “Too much—fuck—”

Wooyoung didn’t let up, his tongue still working you through the aftershocks until your thighs shook too hard to keep him trapped. You slumped against the wall, breath ragged, fingers limp in his hair. He licked his lips, chin glistening, and grinned up at you like he’d just won something.

“You’re evil,” you panted, legs still shaking as Wooyoung licked his lips like he’d just finished dessert. His grin was all teeth, smug and satisfied, even as he wiped his chin with the back of his hand.

Wooyoung stayed on his knees, breathing hard against your thigh. His fingers flexed where they still dug into your skin. "Not evil," he mumbled, pressing a wet kiss to the inside of your knee. "Just hungry. And I missed you."

You push yourself up, shoving him back with your foot as you push the door closed finally. The click of the lock echoes louder than it should, like punctuation to the mess Wooyoung just made of you.

“Bedroom. Now.”

Wooyoung didn’t need telling twice. He lunged off his knees so fast the floorboards creaked, hands already grabbing at your waist before you could take a full step. “Fucking finally,” he growled, teeth scraping your earlobe as he half-dragged, half-carried you toward the bedroom. His grip was bruising, fingers digging into your skin like he was afraid you’d vanish if he eased up for even a second.

When you made it to the bedroom, Wooyoung was already pulling his shirt off with a reckless urgency that made you laugh until he turned around and you saw his chest heaving, his skin flushed pink from collarbones to waistband.

“You look hot like that,” you murmured, watching Wooyoung’s chest rise and fall like he’d just run a marathon. His pupils were blown wide, lips still wet from you, and the way his fingers trembled as he fumbled with his belt buckle was almost endearing. Almost. You clicked your tongue, stepping forward to bat his hands away. “Let me.”

Wooyoung’s breath hitched when your fingers brushed his stomach, his hips jerking forward instinctively like he couldn’t help it. You smirked, taking your time unbuckling his belt while he whined under his breath, fingers twitching at his sides like he wanted to grab you but didn’t dare.

“Mommy,” he groaned, voice cracking when you dragged his zipper down painfully slow. “C’mon, please,” You ignore him, pushing him back against the mattress.

You noticed the wet patch in his underwear, the way his hips twitched forward whenever your fingers brushed his waistband like a dog begging for scraps. "God, you're a mess," you murmured, kissing alongside his happy trail.

Wooyoung whimpered when your fingers finally slipped past the waistband of his underwear, his hips jerking forward to meet your touch before you’d even fully touched him. “Fuck—,” His voice cracked, raw and wrecked.

“My baby’s so wet, isn’t he?” Your fingers tap his clit ever so gently, watching his legs shake as you trace lazy circles. Not enough to push him over, just enough to make him whimper. His hips jerk forward, chasing your touch, but you pull your hand away with a tut.

Wooyoung makes a wounded noise, forehead dropping onto your shoulder as he grabs onto your arm. “No fair,” he slurs against your skin, breath hot and uneven.

"You did this to yourself eating me out when the door was still open. This is your punishment, bunny," you murmured, pressing a kiss to Wooyoung's trembling jaw while your fingers traced idle circles just above where he needed you most. His breath hitched, hips jerking forward in a futile attempt to grind against your hand, but you held him still with your other palm flat against his stomach. "Patience, baby."

Wooyoung whined high in his throat, fingers twisting in the sheets like he might tear them if you didn’t touch him properly soon. You smirked, dragging your fingertips just under the swell of his clit. Close enough to tease, far enough to torture. His hips jerked off the bed, chasing your touch with a desperation that made your stomach clench. “Mommy, please,” His voice cracked, ragged at the edges like he’d been begging for hours.

Wooyoung’s fingers clenched into the sheets, knuckles white with the effort of holding still. His chest rose and fell in shallow bursts, every inhale catching when your thumb brushed just beneath his clit—not quite touching, but close enough to make his thighs tremble.

“You’re so mean to me,” he whined, voice cracking as you leaned down to nip at his earlobe, your breath hot against his skin.

All you do is chuckle, finally tugging his underwear down his hips in one slow, deliberate motion. Wooyoung kicks them off the second they clear his thighs, his breath coming in ragged bursts as he watches your fingers trail back up his trembling legs.

“So impatient,” you murmur, dragging your nails lightly over his inner thigh just to watch him shiver. His hips jerk off the mattress again, but you press him back down with a firm hand on his stomach. “Stay.”

Wooyoung’s breath hitched when your fingers finally brushed his clit, feather-light, just enough to make his thighs tremble. “There you go,” you murmured, watching his hips jerk off the mattress like he couldn’t help it. His hands fisted the sheets, knuckles white, but he didn’t dare move, not when you’d told him to stay. The obedience made your chest warm, even as his whine cracked the air between you. “Good boy.”

You lean down, kissing the inside of his thigh just to feel him tremble. Wooyoung’s breath comes in ragged bursts, his fingers twisting the sheets tighter with every inch your lips drag closer to where he needs you most. When you exhale against his clit, hot and slow, he lets out a sound that’s half-sob, half-laugh — like he’s both overwhelmed and desperate for more.

“God, you’re too pretty like this,” you murmur, nipping at the soft skin of his inner thigh just to watch him squirm. His hips jerk forward, but you press him down again with a firm hand on his stomach, your thumb rubbing slow circles into the dip of his hipbone. “Look at you. So wet for mommy.”

“Yeah—,” Wooyoung’s voice cracks, halfway between a whine and a plea, hips twitching helplessly under your palm. His clit pulses under your thumb when you press down just slightly, just enough to make his breath stutter. You watch the way his stomach tenses, the way his thighs shake when you drag your nail lightly over the swollen bud. “Fuck— fuck, please—“

“You smell so good, bunny.” Your voice was low, teasing, as you pressed your nose against Wooyoung’s inner thigh, inhaling deep just to feel him shudder. His hips jerked off the mattress, a whine caught between his teeth, but you didn’t give him what he wanted, not yet. Instead, you dragged your tongue up the crease of his thigh, slow and deliberate, savoring the way his breath hitched like he’d been punched.

“So fucking pretty,” you murmured, lips brushing his clit just enough to make his legs shake. “All spread out for me like this.”

“Mm, mommy can’t wait to taste you.” The words dripped from your lips like honey, slow and deliberate, just to watch Wooyoung’s thighs twitch. His breath hitched when you blew a cool stream of air over his clit, his hips jerking off the mattress in a silent plea. You smirked, dragging your teeth lightly over his inner thigh.

“I bet it hurts, huh?” you coo, pressing a kiss to the trembling skin just below his hipbone. “Good things come to boys who wait.”

Wooyoung's entire body arched off the mattress when your tongue finally—finally—dragged a slow, flat stripe up his clit. The sound he made was halfway between a sob and a curse, his fingers ripping at the sheets like he might tear them apart.

"Fuck!" His voice cracked, thighs trembling violently when you sucked him into your mouth without warning, your lips tight and relentless around his throbbing clit. His hips jerked forward on instinct, but you pinned him down with a firm hand on his stomach, your nails digging into his skin just enough to remind him who was in charge.

Wooyoung’s back arched off the bed, a broken cry tearing from his throat as your tongue flicked over his clit in quick, punishing circles. His thighs trembled under your grip, slick with sweat where your fingers dug into his skin. “I-It feels s’good, mommy—” His voice was raw, ragged at the edges like he’d been screaming for hours. You hummed against him, the vibration sending a violent shudder through his body, his hips jerking helplessly against your mouth.

You lift his legs and rest them over your shoulders, burying your face deeper between his thighs just to hear the way his voice breaks. Wooyoung claws at the sheets, his back arching off the mattress as you suck his clit into your mouth, lips tight and insistent. His hips jerk forward, chasing the pressure, but you pin him down, your forearm across his stomach now.

Wooyoung’s fingers twisted into your hair, not pulling, just holding on like he’d float away otherwise. His thighs trembled against your shoulders, every ragged gasp punched out of him as your tongue worked him over with slow, deliberate strokes. The taste of him filled your mouth, and you groaned against his skin just to feel him jerk like he’d been electrocuted.

Wooyoung’s thighs clamped around your head, his heels digging into your back as his entire body tensed like a bowstring. “G-Gonna—fuck—” The warning dissolved into a strangled cry as his orgasm hit, his hips stuttering against your mouth while you drank him down, slow and relentless.

His fingers twisted tighter in your hair, pulling just enough to sting, but you didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, not when he was shuddering and gasping above you like a man drowning.

Wooyoung was still trembling from his first orgasm when your fingers trailed down his stomach, tracing idle circles along his belly button. His breath hitched, hips jerking forward instinctively only for your palm to press him firmly back into the mattress. "Stay," you murmured, nipping at the inside of his thigh just to hear him whine.

Wooyoung whimpered when your fingers traced lower, teasing the slick heat between his thighs. His legs twitched, still sensitive from the first orgasm, but he didn’t pull away, just arched his back in silent invitation. You smirked against his skin, pressing a kiss to his inner thigh before dragging your tongue up his clit again, slow and deliberate. His breath hitched, hips jerking off the mattress, but you pinned him down with your free hand, fingers rubbing lazy circles just above his entrance.

Your fingers teased his entrance, pressing in just enough to make him gasp before retreating again. Wooyoung whined, hips jerking forward in a futile attempt to chase your touch, but you held him down with your forearm still firm across his stomach.

"So greedy," you murmured against his inner thigh, biting just hard enough to leave a mark. His fingers twisted in your hair, tugging sharply to anchor himself as your tongue dragged another slow, torturous stripe up his clit.

Your fingers traced lazy circles around Wooyoung’s entrance, just barely dipping in before retreating, enough to make his hips jerk off the mattress with a whine that bordered on pathetic. “Mommy,” he gasped, fingers twisting in your hair like he couldn’t decide whether to pull you closer or shove you away. “I-I’ve been so good, pleaseee—”

Your fingers press into him without warning, curling deep just as your tongue flicks over his clit again. Wooyoung's entire body bows off the bed, a ragged scream tearing from his throat as his thighs clamp around your head like a vice.

"S-Shit! Shit, oh my god—" His voice cracks, hands scrambling for purchase in the sheets as you crook your fingers just right, rubbing that spot inside him that makes his vision blur. His hips jerk forward uncontrollably, fucking himself onto your fingers with a desperation that would be embarrassing if he had the capacity to care.

Wooyoung’s breath came in ragged, punched-out gasps as your fingers worked him open with slow, deliberate strokes. His hips twitched helplessly, riding the rhythm of your hand while your mouth stayed glued to his clit, sucking just hard enough to keep him teetering on the edge.

“Fuck—ah! Fffuck!” His voice cracked, fingers clawing at the sheets as you crooked your fingers inside him, pressing against that spot that made his thighs shake. You hummed against him, the vibration dragging another whine from his throat, his back arching off the mattress like he was trying to escape the pleasure.

Wooyoung came with a sound like glass breaking—sharp, sudden, and utterly beyond his control. His back arched off the mattress so violently the headboard slammed against the wall, his thighs clamping around your head hard enough to bruise.

You didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, not when his entire body was shuddering apart beneath you, his hands scrabbling at your shoulders like he was trying to push you away and drag you closer all at once. His clit pulsed against your tongue, swollen and oversensitive, but you kept licking, kept sucking, until his whines turned to sobs and his hips stuttered in aborted little jerks against your mouth.

“M-Mommy— please, please, please— I-I can’t—” Wooyoung’s voice shattered into a sob as his hips jerked uncontrollably, his body taut like a bowstring about to snap. You didn’t let up, fingers still working inside him, tongue flicking over his oversensitive clit with ruthless precision.

His thighs trembled violently, slick with sweat where they pressed against your shoulders, and when he came again, it was with a sound so raw it barely resembled human speech—just a choked, guttural noise ripped from somewhere deep in his chest.

Spurts of liquid landed on your hand and arm, even on your face. His back arched off the bed so sharply you worried he might hurt himself, his fingers scrabbling at the sheets like he was trying to claw his way out of his own skin.

Finally, you pull away, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as Wooyoung collapses against the mattress like a marionette with its strings cut. His chest heaves, skin flushed deep red from his collarbones down to where his thighs still twitch involuntarily. A thin sheen of sweat makes him glisten under the dim bedroom light, and when you drag your fingers through the mess between his legs, he whimpers.

“Aw, bunny. I’m not even done with you yet,” you cooed, watching Wooyoung’s eyelids flutter as he fought to stay conscious. His chest still heaved, his skin sticky with sweat where your fingers traced idle patterns over his hipbones. When you pressed your thumb against his clit again, just a featherlight touch, his entire body jerked like he’d been electrocuted, a broken noise tearing from his throat.

Wooyoung barely had time to catch his breath before you were sliding off the bed, leaving him sprawled and twitching on the sheets like a discarded puppet. His fingers scrabbled weakly at the mattress as he tried and failed to prop himself up on trembling elbows.

“W-Wait—where—” His voice cracked, raw from screaming, but you were already across the room, rummaging through the dresser drawer with single-minded focus.

Wooyoung blinked dazedly at the ceiling, his thighs still twitching with aftershocks as the mattress dipped with your absence. The room spun slightly, or maybe that was just his vision blurring, but he managed to turn his head just enough to watch you stride toward the dresser. His breath hitched when you yanked the bottom drawer open with a careless jerk, the wood scraping loud enough to make his oversensitive nerves flinch.

The drawer screeched open, your fingers closing around the familiar silicone harness before Wooyoung could even process what was happening. His breath hitched audibly when you turned back to him, the strap dangling from your grip like a promise.

Wooyoung barely had time to whimper before you grabbed his hips and flipped him onto his stomach, his cheek smushing against the damp sheets as his legs instinctively spread wider. His breath hitched when you dragged the harness straps through your fingers with deliberate slowness, watching the way his back arched in anticipation—like a cat stretching before pouncing.

“Up,” you ordered, tapping his ass until he lifted his hips with a shaky exhale, his thighs trembling from the effort.

Wooyoung barely had the strength to lift himself onto his elbows, his thighs still trembling from the aftershocks. But the second your fingers dug into his hips, he obeyed, rolling onto his stomach with a shaky exhale. His chest pressed flat against the mattress, arms folding beneath his head as he arched his back instinctively, presenting himself like a goddamn offering.

"This what you’ve been waiting for? Hm?" you chuckle, smoothing your hands down Wooyoung's trembling back as you lined up behind him. “For mommy’s cock to be deep inside you?”

His breath hitched audibly when the tip of the toy pressed against him, still loose from your fingers but twitching tight with anticipation. "Look at you," you cooed, dragging the dildo in slow circles just to watch his hips jerk. "Already dripping for me like a good boy."

Wooyoung's breath hitched when you pushed into him in one slow, unrelenting stroke, his chest lifting off the mattress like a live wire, fingers scrambling for purchase in the sheets. "Fffuck, i-it’s so…” His voice cracked, raw and wrecked, as you bottomed out inside him, hips flush against his trembling ass.

"So good for me," you murmured, dragging your nails down the sweat-slick curve of his spine just to feel him shudder. "Taking me so deep like this, baby. Perfect. God, I bet it’s so deep, huh?”

The first thrust punched the air from Wooyoung’s lungs—hard enough to send his face smacking into the mattress, his fingers twisting the sheets into knots.

“Jesus—!” His voice cracked, spine arching like a bowstring as you bottomed out inside him, the stretch bordering on too much after how thoroughly you’d already wrecked him. You paused, grinding deeper just to hear the wet, punched-out noise he made, his thighs trembling violently against yours.

"Mmmh, look at you," you murmured, one hand gripping Wooyoung's hip hard enough to bruise as the other smoothed up the trembling curve of his spine. He shuddered violently when you pulled out almost completely, just to slam back in with a wet snap of skin against skin that echoed off the bedroom walls. His choked moan dissolved into a whine when you didn't let up, setting a relentless pace that had his thighs quivering within seconds. "So fucking perfect for me, bunny. Taking me so good—you feel that? How deep I am?"

Your hands slither up his back, one grabbing his neck and pushing him into the mattress. Wooyoung whines into the sheets, the sound muffled but no less desperate, his hips twitching back against you instinctively.

"Such a good boy," you murmur, your voice dripping with honeyed praise as you roll your hips forward in a slow, grinding motion that has his thighs shaking.

His breath hitches, fingers clawing at the sheets when you pull back only to thrust in again, deeper this time, until his back arches like a drawn bowstring. "You take me so good every time."

"Fuck, look at you," you growled, tightening your grip on Wooyoung's hips as you snapped forward without warning, burying yourself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. His scream shattered against the mattress, hands scrabbling at the sheets like he might tear them apart. "Taking me like you were made for it—god, you’re perfect." Your praise dripped from your lips between ragged breaths, each word punctuated by another punishing snap of your hips that drove him deeper into the mattress.

"You love this, don't you?" The words were a growl against Wooyoung's ear as your fingers tightened around his throat, cutting off his next whimper before it could escape. His hips jerked back against yours instinctively, his body moving on autopilot even as his breath stuttered under your grip. "That's it—fuck yourself back on me, baby. Show mommy how much you need it.”

"Greedy pussy sucking me in—" The words punched out of you between thrusts, your hips slamming into Wooyoung's trembling body with a rhythm that sent the headboard cracking against the wall like a gunshot. Your fingers tightened around his throat, cutting off his next whimper before it could escape, and the way his thighs jerked told you he loved it. His hips stuttered, oversensitive and shaking, but he still pushed back against you with a desperation that made your stomach clench.

"Fuck, baby—look at you," you groaned, snapping your hips forward in a brutal rhythm that had Wooyoung's thighs slapping against yours with every thrust. He opened his mouth in a silent scream, fingers twisting the sheets into knots as you piston into him without mercy.

"M-Mommy—, ah!" Wooyoung's voice shattered into a sob as you pistoned into him faster, your hips snapping forward with a brutal rhythm that left no room for mercy. You didn't slow down, couldn't slow down, not when he was so tight and wet around you, his body arching back into every thrust like he was starving for it.

"Tell mommy how much you needed," you growled, one hand tightening around his hip while the other dragged nails down his sweat-slick spine.

Wooyoung's entire body convulsed when your fingers tangled in his hair, yanking his head back sharply and forcing his spine into a cruel arch as you drove into him with relentless precision. His mouth fell open in a silent scream, drool spilling down his chin as his vision blurred at the edges.

“N-Needed it so bad," He groaned, a bit of saliva dribbling down his chin. “Can’t—I can’t.. ‘m close,” The warning dissolved into a wet, guttural moan as his hips stuttered wildly, his feet kicking up behind you as he neared orgasm.

Wooyoung's fingers scrabbled uselessly against the sheets when you abruptly flipped him onto his back, his legs hooking around your waist before his brain could catch up. His chest heaved, lips parted in a silent gasp as you loomed over him, his hair a mess and sweat dripping down your collarbones. The raw hunger in your eyes punched the air from his lungs. "Mommy—" His voice cracked, hands fluttering against your thighs like he wasn't sure whether to push or pull.

Wooyoung’s head tipped back against the mattress as you slammed into him, the angle deeper no. His hands flew to your thighs, fingers digging in hard enough to leave crescents in your skin, but he didn’t push you away. His hips jerked up to meet every thrust, his breath coming in ragged, punched-out gasps that dissolved into whimpers when your thumb brushed his swollen clit.

Wooyoung's back arched violently when your thumb pressed down, a rough, unforgiving circle that sent sparks shooting up his spine. His mouth fell open in a soundless scream, fingers clawing at your thighs as his hips bucked wildly, desperate for friction, for release, for anything.

"P-Please—" The word shattered into a sob as you snapped your hips forward, the harness dragging against that sweet spot inside him with brutal precision. His vision whited out for a second, his entire body locking up like a live wire.

Wooyoung’s entire body went rigid, his thighs clamping around your waist like a vice as his orgasm ripped through him with a violence that left him gasping—raw, shattered sounds punched from his chest with each stuttering thrust you didn’t let up. His clit pulsed under your thumb, oversensitive and twitching, but you kept rubbing, kept fucking into him, until his whimpers dissolved into sobs and his hands fluttered weakly against your hips like he was trying to push you away.

“Fuck, you’re so hot cumming around my dick, baby! You want me to fill you up?” You laugh, breathless, as Wooyoung’s thighs clamp around your waist, his whole body shuddering like a leaf in a storm as his orgasm rips through him. His fingers scrabble weakly at your hips, his hips jerking in aborted little thrusts as you keep rolling into him, slower now but relentless, dragging out every last aftershock until his whines dissolve into wet, hiccupping sobs.

“You want me to cum in you, huh? Mmmh, you’d look so pretty full, bunny.”

Wooyoung’s breath hitched in a wet, broken gasp when you slowed your thrusts to a torturous grind, the harness pressing deep inside him as you leaned down to lick a stripe up his sweaty throat.

His fingers twitched against your thighs, weak and uncoordinated, but his hips still jerked up instinctively, like his body couldn’t stop chasing yours even when he was oversensitive and shaking. “M-Mommy,” His voice cracked, raw from screaming, and you nipped at his jaw just to feel him shudder.

Wooyoung’s thighs trembled violently when you pulled out almost completely, only to slam back in with a wet, filthy noise that had his toes curling into the sheets. His breath hitched in a broken whimper, oversensitive and wrung-out, but his hips still arched up instinctively, chasing the drag of the harness inside him like he couldn’t help himself.

"Greedy," you murmured, dragging your nails down his sweat-slick chest just to watch him jerk. His clit pulsed under your thumb, swollen and red, and when you pressed down hard, his entire body locked up, back bowing off the mattress like he’d been electrocuted.

“Fuck, I’m cumming baby,” You moan, hips stuttering against Wooyoung’s ass as the harness pulses inside him, the silicone tip releasing a warm gush of liquid that makes him whimper. His thighs twitch violently around your waist, oversensitive and trembling, but he doesn’t pull away, just arches his back higher, pressing himself deeper onto the toy like he’s trying to milk every last drop.

“Gonna fill you up so good,” you growl, grinding deeper as the harness releases another spurt.

The harness pulsed inside Wooyoung with another warm gush, the liquid trickling down as he shuddered violently beneath you, his body arching into each spasm like it was wired to take everything you gave him.

"Oh my god," His voice cracked, raw and ruined, fingers scrabbling weakly at your hips as you ground deeper, milking the last of the harness's release into him with slow, deliberate rolls of your hips. You smirked at the way his stomach twitched with each pulse, his clit swollen and oversensitive where it rubbed against the base of the harness.

Wooyoung’s body went slack beneath you, his chest heaving as he stared dazedly at the ceiling, his lips parted and skin flushed from his collarbones down to where your fingers still pressed against his trembling thighs. The harness pulsed inside him one last time, and he whimpered, a weak little noise that cracked halfway through. You leaned down, licking a stripe up his sweaty throat just to feel him shudder. “Still with me, bunny?”

Wooyoung blinked up at you, his eyelashes fluttering like he was trying to focus through a haze. His lips parted and his throat bobbing as he swallowed weakly. His fingers twitched against your thigh, too weak to grip but still trying, like his body hadn’t gotten the memo that it was utterly spent.

“M’here,” he slurred, voice wrecked and syrupy-slow, his hips giving a feeble jerk when you shifted slightly inside him. A thin trickle of liquid seeped from where the harness pressed into him, and his breath hitched, oversensitive and trembling.

His eyelashes fluttered when you pulled out slowly, watching the way his thighs instinctively squeezed together as if trying to keep you inside. A shudder wracked his body as liquid spilled onto the sheets beneath him, his breath hitching when your fingers trailed through the mess, spreading it across his trembling stomach.

"Fuck," he laughed weakly, voice shredded beyond recognition, his hips twitching weakly when you rubbed on his abdomen.

“Are you okay?” you laugh as you begin to unstrap yourself, sitting it down beside you two. You run your hands up and down his legs.

“Yeah, I just…” His thighs twitched when you brushed a thumb over his hipbone, his eyelashes fluttered like he was fighting to stay awake. “I need a minute,”

“Okay, bunny,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his damp forehead before sliding off the bed. The sheets rustled as you grabbed the discarded towel that was nearby, dampening it with warm water from the bathroom sink before returning to his side.

The damp towel was warm against Wooyoung’s flushed skin as you dragged it over his trembling thighs, wiping away the sticky mess between his legs with slow, deliberate strokes. He whimpered at the first touch, his body oversensitive and twitching, but didn’t pull away. His fingers curling weakly into the sheets like he was anchoring himself to the bed.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to the inside of his knee when his leg jerked involuntarily. His skin was fever-hot under your lips, the scent of sweat and sex thick in the air as you cleaned him with careful hands.

You reached for the glass of water on the nightstand. "Drink," you murmured, pressing the rim to his lips, and he obeyed with a sleepy whine, his throat bobbing weakly as he swallowed. Half of it dribbled down his chin, his coordination shot to hell, but you wiped it away with your thumb before he could even register the spill.

Wooyoung blinked up at you, his lashes sticky with tears, lips swollen and parted as he struggled to catch his breath. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven hitches—each exhale trembling like he might shatter apart if you touched him again. But when your fingers brushed a damp curl from his forehead, he leaned into the touch instinctively, his cheek pressing into your palm like a cat seeking warmth.

Wooyoung's fingers twitched weakly against your thigh, his body limp and spent, but his lips still curved into a drowsy smile when you pressed a kiss to his forehead. "M'good," he slurred, the words barely audible as his eyelashes fluttered shut.

You laughed softly, tucking the blanket around his shoulders before sliding off the bed, your own legs shaky from exertion. “Want some food?”

“Please,” he chuckled, turning to his side and sighing.

The room smelled like sex and sweat, the air thick and humid, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. Not when Wooyoung was sprawled across the sheets like a satisfied cat, his chest rising and falling in slow, even breaths.

“I love you, Wooyoungie,” you tease as you stand in the doorway, holding onto the doorknob.

your eyes travel down to his hips, a pair of boxers low on them, his favorite pair to sleep in. you bite your lip at the print that was prominent, breath picking up and skin prickling with excitement at the lewd sight in front of you.

he suddenly shifts, stretching his torso and legs with a sleepy moan which causes his shirt to ride up higher, right under his chest. he settles back down with a sigh, breaths falling back into its steady rhythm.

what would your boyfriend think if he caught you doing this?

once you are sure that he’s comfortable again, slowly you bring a hand to his warm skin and brush back the damp hair on his forehead. yunho sucks in a breath at the coolness of your fingers, sighing when you run them down to his cheeks and caressing a thumb over it.

“so fucking pretty…” you whisper, dragging your thumb to over his lips. you push on the plump bottom one, tugging on it to open his mouth wider. a shudder travels down your spine when yunho’s tongue peeks out and flicks the tip of your thumb.

he’d probably be disgusted. call you a pervert. move to sleep somewhere else, where someone isn’t lustily watching and touching him.

as stealthily as you can without disturbing yunho, you sling a leg over his thighs to straddle his hips. hovering over his sleeping figure to reach peer at his face, gently grabbing him by the face and moving him so he’s turned towards you.

you lean into press a gentle kiss on his lips, arms caging him in and biting his bottom lip when you pull away. migrating to leave light kisses all over his face and down his slender neck that you nibble on. that draws a gasp out of yunho, his head tilting back to expose himself more.

settling, you sit on his thighs and your attention is brought back to his tummy presented beneath you. an expanse of milky skin that you bring your hands up to run over, slowly sliding them up under his shirt where his chest hides, passing over his nipples.

“ngh…” you snap your eyes up to yunho’s face, still finding him sleep but with a slight furrow in his brow. amused, you push his top up to under his chin and fully reveal his chest. you pinch one of his perked up nipples and pull another quiet moan from yunho.

maybe, maybe… he wouldn’t mind what you’re doing to him. tell you to keep going. let you keep touching him until he-

you’re pulled from your thoughts when you feel yunho’s back arch up and hip rise, hearing him let out a frustrated huff. with a questioning look you peer down between his legs where you see yunho’s dick in his boxers, hard.

unconsciously, one of his hands drop to his hard-on and starts palming himself as his breathing picks up at the touch. it’s pornographic the way he’s touching himself right under you, unaware of you watching him, a light flush starting to dust his cheeks. let me do it for you. you think, removing his hand and placing both his arms to his sides, yunho groans at the lost contact.

“shh, i got you…” you assure him even though you know he’s not awake. yunho’s hips grind up into nothing, attempting to find some relief. slowly, you reach for his fully hard dick and trace the outline through his boxers. yunho’s breaths coming out heavier, as he twitches under your fingers. a wet spot starting to form in his underwear, right by the tip. the tip that you rub with your finger, something you know drives yunho insane.

her jolts, hips jerking back but he doesn’t wake. he only constantly lets out tiny sounds, occasionally stirring while his hands clench and unclench the sheets below him.

his reactions, his faint moans, the way his dick leaks is just so intoxicating, it makes you ache, makes you crave more from him. you want to see how far you can push before he wakes up… you pull yunho’s dick from the opening in his boxers and start to jerk him off teasingly, spreading the precum leaking from his tip down. so much spilling out that it makes the glide smooth.

“ah!” yunho gasps, bucking up at the sudden stimulation on his dick. he bites down on his bottom lip and turns his head to the side, burying his face into the pillow.

he’s hot in your hands and looks so fucking beautiful, so pliant under your touch. yunho’s always ready to give up control, let you do whatever you want to him. will do anything to feel the pure bliss that you can only give him. god, you need to hear him say it. need him to tell how good you make him feel.

you pump him in earnest now, your other hand going back to his chest and playing with his nipples. yunho writhes under you, body confused on whether to arch into your touch or run away from it.

“uhn ~ ” yunho sleepily moans, the furrow in his brow deeper in confused pleasure as he starts to wake up, eyes blinking slowly as he raises his slightly head.

“hi sleepyhead ~ ” you coo with a smile, once you make eye contact. yunho’s partially eyes widen, sleep still in them and his mouth agape as he struggles to find words. he looks down to where you were sitting and fisting his dripping dick fast, so fast, he barely has time to register anything, still waking up, before he’s overcome with pleasure.

all he could do is throw his head back into the pillow with a loud moan, eyes fluttering back closed. he was helpless under you, brain still trying to catch up to his body, finding it hard to even speak. every attempt being shut down with a moan or a whine. everything just felt so good.

“aww, crying already ~ ” you purr out while extending a hand to wipe one the tears that spilled. was he? he wasn’t too sure of anything right now. his brain too muddled, still sleepy, almost dizzy, lost in all the sensations he was currently feeling.

he was trying, trying so hard to get grasp on his mind. urging himself fully wake up and relish in the intoxicating feeling of your hands all over him, not wanting to fall back asleep. his hips weakly rocking up into your grip when you start going tantalizingly slow, yearning for more.

“mmf- feels so good…” he manages to whisper with a sniffle. huh, guess he was crying. his head clearing up to get the words dancing on in his tongue out and past his lips. finally coming to and cracking his wet eyes open to look at you again, whining when he finds you staring back at him hungrily, goosebumps spreading over him. embarrassed, he quickly turns his head, shoving into the pillow as his body burns hot.

it’s too much for him. the thought of you touching him while he was sleep, having your way with him unknowingly. the perverted thoughts you must have had watching him lay on the bed, how he must have looked for you to make you want to touch him in such a powerless state. now awake, and being able to enjoy every touch, every brush or pinch of his nipple, and every upward stroke of his dick that grazes the tip just right. it makes his heart thrum in his chest.

his skin tingles and he could feel it. feel himself getting closer with every painfully slow pump, dick aching and profusely leaking all over you. intense shudders wracking his body, legs tensing under you as it builds up closer to the surface. god, he just wanted to cum, he needed to cum right now.

“easy there ~ ” you purr when yunho’s hands come out and grip on your waist tightly, a loud whine is all you get in response. you could tell he was getting close, all the telltale signs there. you were just waiting for him to say the words-

“mmph, can- can i cum, please?” yunho huffs out between moans. there it is.

you pretend to think about, drawling out dramatic ‘hm’s” as yunho squirms underneath you. desperately looking at you now, fresh tears springing to his eyes, bottom lip sucked into his mouth, his fingers twitching where they rest on your waist.

“i need it. i-i need so bad…” he pleads, stuttering as he gets closer. fighting against his body to hold back, not wanting to cum until he has your permission. not wanting to be disobedient, but also wanting to let go just as bad.

your boyfriend just looked so good, so ruined and erotic. you almost feel bad for what you were about to do. almost. you ignore his plea and continue to jerk him off slowly, his moans and the wet sounds of the copious amounts of precum leaking the only sounds filling the room. his hands wandering up to your waist now.

once his moans get louder and his stomach tenses, hips bucking into your touch with fervor… you know he’s about to cum and you smile to yourself.

“w-wait … ‘m gonna - ” yunho frantically gasps out when you abruptly start to stroke him faster. bringing him closer and closer and closer, right to the edge before you stop touching him all together. instead opting to gently glide your hands over his stomach that was tense.

“noo- why, but i was so close ~ ” he cries while sniffling, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he catches his breath. yearning to have your touch back, unsatisfied.

“why would i let you do that? you look so pretty right now, just let me play a little more,” you teasingly say with a smile. yunho frustratedly whines, still trembling, before he nods defeatedly. what could he possibly do against you? weak to your words, afraid you might take away the reward of cumming at all.

“patience, love.” you finish before finally starting to touch him again. working his dick at a brutal pace with both hands fisted around him, grip tight.

“ah!” yunho shouts, his head flying back onto the pillow and his back arching. hips twitching when you twist at the tip of his dick, overly sensitive. he barely has time to enjoy it before he’s getting close again and your hands stop touching him.

he looked absolutely blissed out, brain foggy with want. his body sweaty all over now, skin shining and his eyes were glazed over with lust and the tears that fall. you reach up to wipe under his eyes and brush his cheek that makes yunho melt with a sigh.

“good boy ~ ” you praise, “just one more, okay?” yunho obediently nods his head. you giggle, going back to stimulating his dick, squeezing hard.

he throbs in your hand, tip red and glistening with precum. you lick your lips, bringing your thumb up rub over it. yunho jumps, sparks running through his body from the damn near overstimulation on his sensitive tip.

“p-please, ‘s too much…” he gasps, his breath hitching. he twists his body in attempt to get you to let up, with no success. you keep going until he’s pulsing in your hand, letting his orgasm bubble up before you stop, his hold on your waist almost bruising.

“c’mon - no more teasing, please .. no more, i wanna cum -” he babbles, his words slurring together, frustrated and his head fuzzy, completely lost in pure ecstasy.

you hum, “you want it that bad?”

yunho’s looks at you, more tears rimming his eyes, “yes please, please, please - god i-i need it.” he begs, voice almost raw from all the moaning and crying he’s done.

“’mkay,” you shrug, positioning your hands over his twitching dick. he watches you with anticipation, face covered in longing.

“fuck ~ ” yunho groans, when you pump him without abandon. his lips are parted, drool starting to gather as he unabashedly whimpers and whines. his face screwed in pleasure, eyebrows furrowed and whole body shaking.

“cum for me then.” you command with a pinch to one of yunho’s neglected nipples.

he chokes on a gasp, his body stilling before he starts to tremble. ropes of cum shooting out to cover his chest and your hand, convulsing with each pulse, eyes rolling to back of his head. he mumbles a bunch of little “thank you’s” as he cums, riding out the shockwaves.

“good boy ~ ” you whisper, stroking him through his high until he whined and pushed your hand away from overstimulation. using you cum-free hand, you brush the sweaty strands of hair that fell over his forehead back.

he snuggles into your touch with a dopey smile, eyes shining with awe as he looks at you and chest heaving. he feels limp, small sounds still tumble out from the aftershocks. he feels light, almost weightless.

“thank you.” he breathes out again, eyes starting to get heavy. he reaches for you, pulling on your arm with a whine, wanting to drag you down on top of him. you laugh, tapping him on his nose, making him wrinkle it in fake annoyance.

“let me clean you up first, atleast.” you reason, which yunho agrees with and lets you climb off of him to grab some wipes and a warm rag from the bathroom.

when you return, you return to a sleeping yunho. light snores can be heard, sprawled out in the same position you left him in. walking over, you climb into bed and start to wipe the drying cum on his chest and tears on his face with the rag. gently, you put him into clean boxers before crawling next to him and plastering yourself to his side with a kiss to his cheek…

© lucidwntrr est. 2025 - please do not steal, repost, or copy !

“please, what?” you whisper into his ear, gently biting on it. jake’s breath hitches at hearing your voice, so seductive and close to him, almost tickling him. his hands are fisted into the sheets, arms feeling like jelly and hardly holding him up.

“more, please touch me more,” he begs, looking up at you with his beautiful eyes. “i’ll do anything if you just give me more.”

you oblige, only to an extent, a sucker for when he looks at you like that. you slowly run your fingertips over his shoulders and down his arms. moving across his chest and briefly brushing past a nipple, jake arching into the touch with a tingle down his spine.

you attach your lips to his sensitive neck, lightly sucking on the skin so it leaves behind a hickey. jake starts panting out breaths, his eyes squeezing shut as he squirms in his spot, his cock bobbing uncontrollably. his moans are almost nonstop, raising in pitch the longer you suck.

“fuck me.” he huffs, becoming impatient with your teasing. he drops his head and reaches a hand down to between his legs, wanting relief from his aching hard-on.

you watch him and right before he could wrap his fingers around himself, you gently tug on the shirt around his neck. jake’s hand pauses in mid air and he gasps at the slight, sudden pressure on his throat.

you pull his head back, his brown eyes wide and blinking up at you, an apology already on the tip of his tongue. you speak before he can get his words out,

“did you ask if you could touch yourself?” you question, letting go of the shirt and opting to brush the wet strands of his hair sticking to his forehead. jake sighs at the touch, shaking his head no and resting his hand on his thigh.

“‘m sorry, i wasn’t thinking. i just want to feel good…” he whispers.

“needy puppy just couldn’t help himself, hm?” you tease instead. jake rapidly nods his head with a moan at being called his favorite pet-name. it draws your attention to his lips, wet from all the licking and damn near drooling he’s been doing and you can’t help but want to kiss them.

“mhm, just a dumb puppy when you touch me.” he agrees. you hum in agreement, guiding his head further back, his back curving to follow your movement. you lean down and press a quick kiss to his lips, jake eagerly chasing after you with a whine when you pull away. with a smirk, you kiss him again deeper this time, forcing his mouth open with your tongue.

he leans into the kiss, moaning into your mouth the angle making it slightly messy and wet. only parting ways to allow yourself to remove jake’s shirt fully, now bothersome to you as you want to reveal more of him. his whines from having your lips on his anymore quickly turn into whimpers as you latch yourself there, leaving more reddish-purple marks along the freshly exposed skin.

no matter how much the pleasure got though, jake refused to even attempt to touch himself again. instead he’d just buck into the air with a sweet cry, or the occasional shout when you bit just a little harder than he’s used to.

“please… can you please touch me there now?” jake whispers once he can’t stand it anymore, his cock red and hot from being denied for so long. the puddle larger than when you started from where he still leaks.

“touch you where love?” you ask just to wind him up more, peaking over his shoulder and watching as another bead of precum rolls down the tip when you softly pinch his nipple between your fingers.

“please, you know where. just touch me.” he frustratedly whines, thrusting his cock up into nothing, his way of saying what he wants. you smile and wrap an arm around his waist and run your fingers down it, softly grazing your fingernails up and down them. you feel as he tenses and shake every time you get closer to his cock and his breathing deepens, watching as your hands tease him.

“you mean here?” you ask, catching him off guard by suddenly grabbing his cock. using your thumb to rub over the wet and sensitive frenulum, causing jake’s breath to hitch and uncontrollably thrust his hips into the touch.

“yes, f-fuck yes!” jake practically cries. you laugh and stroke once just to watch jake’s face turn into one of pure bliss at finally getting what he wants, his brows furrowing before dropping his head from the intensity, loud moans pouring out.

you slowly stroke him, smoothly gliding over his cock with the copious amounts of precum that drip down it. you are sure to rub the sensitive tip with each stroke down, jake shuddering every time to your amusement. each stroke leaving behind obscene wet sounds that fill the room along with jakes’ filthy noises.

“is this what you wanted, hm? what you were begging me for?” you purr, already knowing the answer but just want to watch jake struggle to find his words. purposely stroking faster each time jake tries to speak, choking on his words.

“god yes, feels s-so good..” he manages to moan out, voice cracking towards the end of his sentence. you can only smirk at the broken reply, basking in the way that his body reacts to every little thing you do to him, the control you have over him.

his head cocks back towards you, landing on your shoulder once again on a particularly rough stroke, his eyes pressed shut in absolute bliss. “feels so good, please don’t stop..” he mindlessly chants, almost faint if he wasn’t right by your ear.

you look up and do a double-take at the mirror you recently bought, sitting in front of the bed. you look back at jake with an idea. gently, you take jake’s chin into your unoccupied hand and drop his head towards said mirror. the image is lewd, way his face looks, the way his lips are parted spilling out all kinds of sounds just for you. the sight leaves a throbbing feeling down below.

“look at yourself love. i’ve hardly done anything to you, yet you’re so ruined.” you murmur, watching him through the mirror.

jake’s eyes blink open, making eye contact with you through the mirror before his eyes find himself, taking the sight in. his hair tousled, face painted a lovely shade of pink, glistening from the sweat, and his cock that was leaking all over your hand and onto the bedsheets. he almost can’t believe his eyes, can’t believe that he can look so disheveled.

“’s too embarrassing…” he whines, shutting his eyes and shoving his face into the crook of your neck and hiding from himself. he can’t get the image of how he looked out of his head though, cock twitching in slight interest.

however, as soon as his eyes close, you stop touching him. he immediately whines against your skin, moving his hips in attempt to feel good again. to his dismay, you use your other hand to hold his hip in place in which jake huffs, “why’d you stop, please keep going.”

“i said look at yourself.” was your only reply, stern enough that it was all that needed to be said. jake whimpers before turning back towards the mirror, his breathing comes quick as looks at himself again.

“you’re so pretty jake… so good for me,” you whisper in his ear while making eye contact with him through the mirror. he shivers and his cock pulses at the praise. slowly, you wrap a hand around him and start stroking him again, keeping a teasing pace that you know will drive him mad. “don’t you agree, aren’t you pretty?” you question.

there was no fight when he nodded in agreement, “yes, so pretty for you,” he whines and his eyes start to flutter shut as the pleasure starts to build again from the compliment. you squeeze his cock in disapproval, earning a choked breath from jake.

“ah ah, keep those pretty eyes open for me,” you purr. his eyes fly open, immediately locking eyes with you in the reflection. “unless you want me to stop?” you finish quirking a brow, pausing your hand where it rests on the base of his cock and squeezing it.

“no, no please keep going. i won’t close my eyes, promise.” he pleads, eyes watery and hips trying to chase the pleasure he was feeling. you hum and hold him to his word and also keeping your word and stopping if his eyes start to flutter.

“good boy, you’re doing great.” you praise, bringing your other hand up from his waist, up his stomach, to his chest where you fondle his perked nipples.

jake loudly gasp, the touch bringing him to the edge and he immediately starts sighing out a string of apologies. you didn’t understand what for until you feel his body tense up and warmth as he cums all over your hand.

“’m sorry, ‘m s-sorry, i didn’t mean to cum…” he babbles after he starts to come down, his head to fuzzy after such a strong orgasm. you examine his face in the mirror where you find his eyes closed, lashes wet from the tears that lined them.

“cumming without permission and closing your eyes…” you tsk. jake jumps coming, his head clearing enough for him to realize his eyes were in fact closed and opening them to the displeased look on your face. before he can begin apologizing clearly, you stroke his sensitive cock with no remorse. jake yelps, twisting his body in an attempt an escape the intense overstimulation.

“wait- p-please ‘m sorry… please.” he chokes out between moans, moans that settle between pain and pleasure and he’s not sure which to fall into. the sensitivity is almost too much, fresh tears spring to his eyes and falling against his flush cheeks.

“you just couldn’t help yourself? is that what you’re going to say?” you mock, bringing both hands onto him and ruthlessly bringing him towards another orgasm. as much as jake wanted his body to run away it, he was chasing it, wanting to keep feeling good. so good.

“i- i couldn’t. it felt too good, you’re too good…” he cries. the pain turning to desire as he starts to move his hips. desperately, he fucks into your hands and you don’t even have move them, using your fists to his hearts content.

“’s too much, too much … fuck.” he whimpers aimlessly, words slurring together. he’s so far gone in arousal, he doesn’t even realize he’s the one moving, movements getting sloppier as he gets closer to cumming. his eyes glued shut and his fingers digging into the flesh of his thigh, lips slick with saliva and red as he keeps biting down on them.

you can’t help but to take it all in, how good he looks completely ruined from your hands. how noisy he gets whenever he feels too good. you shift into a more comfortable position as your shorts have gotten progressively wetter as you watch jake wreck himself.

“i-i think ‘m gonna cum..” jake pants, looking at you for approval. he just looks so pretty, a complete mess from a little handjob that you can’t bring yourself to deny him. he’s trembling, using everything he has to hold back his orgasm until you give him permission, how cute.

“cum for me,” you whisper. jake preens and whispers small thank you’s, driving his cock into your grip. his breathing is almost erratic as his orgasm builds to the peak. drawling out praises in his ear, leading him on.

“fuck, i’m gonna - i’m cummi-” he announces, before hiccuping on his words. his whole body quivering as he cums for the second time, more intense than the first. he thrusts his hips roughly into your hands, spraying hot cum everywhere. endless moans streaming out as he rides out his orgasm.

he eventually comes back down, hissing when he pulls his cock from your fists, his breathing slow but heavy and his hands finally releases his clutch on his thigh. he left behind little fingernail imprints from how hard he held on. he swallows, mouth dry from the nonstop noises and opens his eyes to look at you with a dopey smile on his face.

“i don’t know how you always manage to fuck me up like that…” he says with so much admiration in his puppy eyes.

you laugh, pressing a kiss to his sweaty temple. jake contentedly hums, pressing his weight against your chest, getting comfortable and you know that you’re going to be here a while.

© lucidwntrr est. 2025 - please do not steal, repost, or copy !

“you’re late,” he announced the moment you unlocked the door, voice airy and insufferably pleased with himself. his feet kicked lazily, anklets chiming.

you set your handbag down, shrugging off your blazer, your silhouette still sharp with authority. “i told you i had a board meeting, honey.”

felix wrinkled his nose, a performance of disdain. he pouted childishly, “boringgg.”

you raised a brow. “someone has to be profitable.”

he hated when you were right. he also hated how much he lit up when you leaned over him, your fingers grazing his jaw, your perfume sinking into the room like something dangerous. he melted instantly—but because he was felix, he masked it with sass.

“you work too much,” he mumbled. “and i get lonely.”

there it was. the little admission he would never phrase directly. you smiled, slow and knowing, tracing the bow at his throat. “lonely? in the penthouse i pay for? surrounded by the gifts i give you?”

he said nothing, but pouted further. he’d never admit you were right. not willingly, at least.

“did you eat?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

he glanced away. “maybe….”

“felix.”

“…no.” he sounded so tiny, defensive, and unbearably cute.

you exhaled, the fondness warm in your chest. “come here.”

he sidled closer on his knees, hands on your thighs, looking up with a mixture of mischief and need. “you are gonna scold me?” he asked, almost hopeful.

“mm.” you tilted his chin up. “first i’ll feed you. and then i’ll decide what to do with you.”

his eyes widened—sparkled, really. “feed me what?”

“whatever you want, sweet thing.”

felix leant into your touch, eyelashes fluttering like he practiced in the mirror. “i want sushi. and maybe bubble tea. and those stupid expensive strawberries from that one store.”

you laughed. “you mean the ones flown in from tokyo on thursdays?”

“yes,” he said shamelessly. “those.”

“fine,” you said, pulling him up and guiding him toward the kitchen. “i’ll spoil you.”

felix grinned like he had won a war. “you always do.”

and then, while you were ordering what he had requested, he pressed into your side, head resting on your shoulder, voice quiet in the way that meant it was real:

“i missed you.”

you brushed a kiss into his styled hair.

“i know.”

three days had passed since that evening.

three days in which you worked, took meetings, signed papers, and sent felix small updates like any responsible, high-functioning provider. three days in which felix pretended he was fine.

he was not fine.

not when you missed your usual good-morning selfie because you had an early briefing. not when you replied “busy rn, honey” instead of sending him one of your slow, indulgent voice notes that always made him squirm in your silky sheets. and especially not when he saw your company’s instagram story—the one featuring you shaking hands with a dangerously enthusiastic new intern.

felix stared at the clip for a full minute, lip glossed and trembling with injustice.

then he said, out loud, dripping with venom, to nobody:

“oh. absolutely not.”

which is how you ended up in your glass-walled office at 2:14 pm reviewing quarterly figures when the door swung open without a knock.

“hello?” you called, expecting your assistant.

instead, felix walked in.

tight baby pink sweater, thigh-high socks. glossy lips. a silk ribbon in his hair, large sunglasses resting on his nose bridge. looking like he was auditioning for the role of “problem.”

your assistant trailed quickly behind him, panicked. “i’m sorry, he refused to wait—”

“it’s fine,” you said, not taking your eyes off felix. “you may go.”

the door shut behind your assistant as they scampered away.

felix planted himself on the seat in front of your desk, arms crossed, doing his best impression of indignant authority. it was almost adorable. almost.

“what are you doing here, baby?”

“you forgot about me!”

your eyes narrowed. “felix. i sent you seventeen texts yesterday.”

“and not one picture,” he snapped. “not even a little one. i could have been dying.”

you gave him a long, slow look, holding his eyes while your head tilted downward. your eyebrow quirked. “you went to pilates twice, had brunch with your friends, and posted a mirror selfie. i think you survived just fine.”

he huffed, his knit shifting as his arms tightened around him. “you’re missing the point.”

“then tell me the point. indulge me.”

he bit his lip—a tell you knew well—and burst out:

“who is that intern !!”

you froze for half a second, then pressed a hand over your mouth to hide your smile. “felix… are you jealous?”

he scoffed, cheeks heating. “no.”

your brow arched. “really.”

“i just think he stood too close to you. i don’t like that he touched you,” felix muttered. “and you smiled at him. you never smile at me like that.”

“i treat my employees professionally,” you replied. “you, on the other hand, don’t ever wear enough clothing for professionalism to be an option.”

felix’s chin wobbled—slightly offended. “i’m wearing so much clothing!”

you stood, rounding the desk, slow and controlled the way you moved when you wanted him to feel small. you pressed your hands into the armrests of his chair, caging him in

he swallowed. it was almost like you watched the confidence drain from him. how pathetic.

“felix,” you murmured, stopping just in front of him, “why are you here?”

his voice softened to something fragile, needy beneath the bravado. “because i missed you.”

then, after a beat—quieter still—“and i wanted you to miss me back.”

your sternness melted. just a little.

you cupped his cheek, thumb brushing his blush. “baby.”

his eyes fluttered.

“you could’ve told me that instead of storming into my office like a jealous little menace.”

“i am not a menace,” he sassed quietly, leaning into your touch.

“no?” you teased. “then what are you, hm?”

he nuzzled your palm, eyelashes trembling. “yours.”

that was the real reason he came. not jealousy—or not only jealousy—but the ache of wanting to belong to you even when he couldn’t physically cling to your arm.

you took his chin between your fingers. “alright. dinner? just you and me. i’ll spoil you.”

felix brightened instantly, jealousy evaporating in an instant like it had never existed.

“can i sit in your lap while you eat?” he asked, hopeful.

“absolutely not.”

“then… maybe i can sit close? like… very close?” he pressed.

you sighed, already defeated. “we’ll see. i think some kind of punishment is in order for your behaviour today first.”

felix beamed, looping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your shoulder like he had not just marched in here to start a war. it seemed he had missed the second part of that. or did he?

“i love your office,” he murmured, smug now. “i think i should visit… all the time.”

you kissed his temple. “god help me.”

you should have expected it—the way felix clung to you the entire elevator ride down, fingers hooked in the sleeve of your blazer, pretending he wasn’t vibrating with anticipation.

he had been unusually quiet ever since you mentioned going home.

quiet, but not calm.

his cheeks were pink, his breathing shallow, his entire body humming with the kind of bratty guilt only he could weaponize into something needy.

your driver opened the car door, and felix practically folded himself inside before you even moved, sitting right in the middle of the back seat as though proximity alone would summon your attention.

the moment the door closed, his hand slid across the leather to find yours.

“are you mad at me?” he murmured, pouting slightly.

“i’m not mad,” you corrected, buckling in. “i’m deciding what to do with you.”

felix shivered. god, he loved that answer.

he crossed his legs—a little dramatic, a little deliberate—and glanced at you from beneath his lashes. “i was jealous,” he said, soft and false-innocent. “you didn’t even tell me he was new.”

“because you don’t work there,” you replied dryly.

felix’s lips parted, eyes darting to yours. “but i… i’m important.”

you leaned in just enough for his breath to hitch. “yes, honey. you are. but that doesn’t excuse the way you behaved today.”

the car grew warmer; felix shifted in his seat, thighs pressing together.

“…are you going to punish me?” he whispered, the word rolling off his tongue like he had been stretching toward it all day.

your smile was slow, dangerous, meant solely for him.

“i think you want me to. so is it really a punishment if you want it?”

he didn’t answer. he didn’t need to. the way he swallowed, the way he stared at your hands, the way his breathing trembled—you knew.

by the time you reached the penthouse, felix stepped out of the car with the grace of someone trying not to run inside. he lingered by the elevator, fidgeting with the ribbon at his throat.

“you shouldn’t be this eager,” you teased, unlocking the door.

“i’m not eager,” he lied, immediately walking in. “i’m just… prepared.”

“prepared.”

“yes,” he insisted, chin lifting. “mentally. emotionally. spiritually.”

you shut the door behind him.

“felix.”

your voice dropped—lower, firmer, claiming the whole room at once.

he froze. you lifted his chin with one finger.

“what do you say after acting like a spoiled little problem all afternoon?”

felix inhaled sharply, eyes fluttering, all the bravado slipping off him like silk.

“…i’m sorry,” he whispered. “and i’ll… make it up to you.”

“good boy.”

the praise nearly buckled him.

you stepped closer, guiding him backward until his knees hit the edge of the couch. he dropped to his knees, almost acting off of pure instinct alone. he looked so fucked out and you hadn’t even touched him yet. poor, pathetic baby.

“say it again.”

“i-i’m so sorry,” he breathed. “i want to be good. just tell me how.”

you brushed your thumb across his lower lip—slow, possessive, a promise.

“then take off this getup,” you murmured, “and wait for me.”

felix’s eyes widened, pulse skittering in his throat. his hands lifted, trembling slightly, untying the bow around his neck as though it were a sacred ritual.

you turned away, giving him one last look over your shoulder. one that was dark, certain, and dripping with intent.

“i’ll be right back,” you informed. “and then we are going to discuss your attitude… properly.”

y/n sank to her knees, blinking up at the tangled mess of metal, screws, and vaguely threatening wooden panels strewn across her bedroom floor. The instruction manual lay open beside her, a small, innocuous stack of papers that might as well have been written in hieroglyphics. Wasabi, her black German shepherd, sprawled at the foot of the mattress she’d been sleeping on for the last month, tail thumping faintly against the floor as if marking time in solidarity. A faint, upbeat pop playlist drifted from her speaker, the spring breeze drifting lazily through the open window, carrying the scent of fresh grass and distant blooms.

It had been a month of mattress-on-the-floor existence. Tight budget, too many bills, and the stubborn pride that had kept her from asking anyone for help—or from buying the bedframe she now owned. But finally, a Saturday with nothing to do: no work, no responsibilities, no emails, no social obligations—just y/n, her music, her dog, and a bedframe waiting to be built. It should have been simple. Peaceful. Calm.

Except it wasn’t.

She groaned, attempting once again to wedge a metal rail into a wooden slot that clearly didn’t want to cooperate. Her hands shook slightly from the effort, and the cold water bottle on the floor beside her offered silent encouragement—half-empty, neglected, patient. “Come on,” she muttered under her breath, “I can do this. How hard can it be?”

The answer, as it turned out, was very hard.

y/n had been too confident to follow the instructions. Manuals were for the timid, for people who wanted to do things by the book. She, on the other hand, had instincts. And instincts, apparently, were now conspiring against her. Screws rolled away in tiny metallic arcs, panels stubbornly refused to line up, and at one point she swore she heard the bed muttering passive-aggressive complaints in her direction.

She slammed a panel down with a huff, hands curling into fists. “Okay, maybe… maybe I do need help,” she admitted aloud, more to Wasabi than anyone else. The dog’s ears twitched but he didn’t look up, utterly unimpressed by her domestic struggle.

Her phone buzzed beside the water bottle. A text from Yunho, her closest friend. 

“Saturday plans?”

She stared at it for a long beat, resisting the urge to roll her eyes and curse at the universe for perfect timing. Yunho—tall, impossibly handsome, quietly magnetic, nerdy as hell—was the kind of person who made you want to spill secrets you didn’t even know you had. And she did know she wanted help. His kind of help.

Smirking, she typed back: 

“Actually… yeah. I could use a hand with something.”

And just like that, her serene Saturday teetered on the edge of chaos—and something far, far more dangerous.

y/n groaned again, yanking a stubborn metal beam into place only to have it slip again, clanging against the floor with a sound that made her teeth grind. She flopped back onto the floor for a moment, letting out a dramatic sigh that probably registered as theatrical despair to anyone passing by.

Her phone buzzed. She snatched it up, heart doing a tiny skip when she saw Yunho’s message: 

“I’ll be there in 30.”

Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes to keep herself from losing her mind, thirty minutes to stop the bed from winning, and thirty minutes for Wasabi to continue his silent mockery. The black German shepherd lifted his head lazily and gave a slow blink, tail wagging just enough to feel like a smirk. 

Her music, once a cheerful soundtrack to a productive morning, had turned into a relentless background hum, driving her further toward frustration. She swatted at the speaker like it had personally betrayed her.

Her tank top strap had started its own rebellion, constantly sliding down her shoulder. She yanked it up again, muttering, “Stop it! Behave!” Her hair, twisted up in a claw clip, had gone rogue too; a few rebellious strands framed her face, sticking to her damp skin. Her oversized jeans slid down just enough to settle comfortably on her hips, the rough fabric bunching awkwardly, while her bare feet shifted against the hardwood. She was sweating slightly from effort, skin warm and flushed, completely natural, completely raw—no bra, no makeup, just her and the domestic chaos around her.

She sighed, rolling her shoulders. Thirty minutes. Plenty of time to drive herself insane, to curse at screws, and to start considering whether sleeping on the floor wasn’t so bad after all. Wasabi yawned, stretching beside her, practically judging her flailing arms with every movement. y/n gave a rueful grin. Yeah, yeah… I know.

y/n groaned for the third time, yanking uselessly at the stubborn metal rail, when a sharp knock at the front door made her freeze mid-motion. Her feet slid across the hardwood as she pushed herself up, brushing at her sweat-damp hair. Frustrated, tired, and thoroughly defeated, she shuffled to the door, trying to ignore the ache in her arms and the sharp annoyance of a strap that had once again betrayed her.

She opened it.

Yunho stood there, as impossibly perfect as ever, framed in the doorway like he belonged in some effortlessly handsome poster for “Nerdy Boyfriend of Your Dreams.” His blue-and-white plaid shirt was casually untucked over wide jeans, glasses perched just right, and a six-pack held in one hand. His eyes met hers, and he smiled softly, lifting the beers in a quiet, almost shy gesture. “I thought we might need these…”

y/n blinked, momentarily speechless. Then she laughed, taking the beers from him, opening the door wider. “You know me too well,” she said, stepping aside to let him in.

He removed his shoes, following her around her apartment with the careful, almost puppy-like attentiveness she’d come to adore. She settled the beers in the fridge and turned to him, offering, “Want something to drink?”

“Water’s fine,” he said simply, his voice soft, calm—but she noticed the faint flush creeping up his neck anyway.

She handed him a cold glass, and he accepted it with a grateful smile, taking a small sip before asking, “So… what do you need help with?”

y/n’s cheeks flushed, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. She tilted her head toward the bedroom, voice barely above a whisper. “The bedframe…” Her fingers absently brushed a stray strand of hair from her face as she led him forward.

Yunho froze at the threshold. The scene before him looked less like a bedroom and more like a covert operation gone sideways: the mattress lay abandoned on the floor, metal rails and screws scattered like clues across the hardwood, sheets and pillows piled haphazardly in the corner, and the instruction manual spread open as if daring them to solve the mystery. Wasabi perched on the edge of the mattress, eyes narrow, silently judging their every move.

He hesitated for a beat, almost like he’d stepped into a place he wasn’t meant to see. He’d been countless times to her apartment, but never into her bedroom. Part of him felt like he was intruding, like some unspoken boundary had been crossed.

But y/n’s gaze met his, playful and expectant, and the nervous tension dissolved into purpose. She needed his help. And he would do anything for her.

“Okay,” he said finally, setting his glass down and rolling up his sleeves. The nervous flush lingered across his cheeks, but his hands were steady, precise, ready to tackle whatever she needed. “Let’s fix this.”

y/n stepped back to give Yunho some space, letting him take the lead. “Alright,” she said, smirking, “I trust you. I bow to your superior… screw-fitting skills.”

He adjusted his glasses, the faintest pink tinting his cheeks, and cleared his throat. “Well… it’s not that complicated, but, um, it’s easier if we follow the steps in order.” 

Yunho knelt on the floor, carefully aligning the metal rail with the wooden slot. y/n crouched beside him, stretching her arms over his to help guide the piece, letting her body brush against his just a little longer than necessary each time.

She let her hand linger on his forearm under the guise of helping him steady the rail, tracing a slow, deliberate line over his sleeve. Every small contact made him stiffen, and she suppressed a soft laugh at the way his jaw tensed, the faint flush rising at the base of his neck.

Leaning closer under the pretense of reading the instructions, she let the subtle warmth of her side press against his, shoulders brushing, her hair occasionally falling against the back of his neck. Each touch was casual—or at least it looked casual—but she knew exactly the effect it had.

“Careful there,” she murmured softly, her fingers brushing over the edge of his hand as she helped guide the rail into place. Yunho’s hands jerked slightly at her touch, and she allowed herself a small, secretive smirk.

Every time he tried to concentrate on the metal and screws, she found a way to make him notice her presence—slight brushes, subtle shifts of her body, the faint heat of her hair against his arm. She thrived on it, watching him fight to stay composed, knowing he couldn’t resist her closeness.

“Almost got it…” Yunho muttered, swallowing hard, trying to keep his focus, but his eyes kept flicking to her. y/n’s lips twitched as she leaned just a fraction closer, letting the subtle pressure of her body make him acutely aware of every touch.

Even amidst the chaos of screws and scattered metal, the playful tension hung between them, deliberate, teasing, and entirely electric.

Wasabi lay at the edge of the mattress, head resting on his paws, eyes half-lidded, clearly judging their every movement with quiet amusement. The music from earlier had long been forgotten; all that remained was the rhythmic clinking of metal, their quiet breaths, and the soft scrape of tools against wood.

y/n tipped her water bottle to take a sip, careful, deliberate. A few drops of condensation slid down her chin and landed teasingly against the curve of her breast. She froze for a heartbeat, noticing Yunho’s eyes flick up, lingering just a fraction longer than necessary. He cleared his throat, low and deliberate, twisting the screw with exaggerated effort as if the stubborn metal demanded all his focus.

“You okay there?” y/n asked, her voice light, teasing. A faint heat crept up her neck as she let her tone carry just enough to make him question whether she was serious.

“Yeah… just… this screw,” he murmured, voice tight, almost strained. “It’s… stubborn.” His hands moved with practiced precision, but his eyes betrayed him, tracing the tiny drops that had escaped her bottle. He wasn’t looking for more than a glimpse—he told himself—but even that small glance made his chest twist with heat.

y/n’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smirk. She set her water bottle down with deliberate slowness, letting the faint clink of it against the hardwood punctuate the moment. She swiped the next page of the manual, as if searching for the next instruction.

Her fingers lingered on the paper just a beat longer than necessary. A casual adjustment, nothing more… yet every subtle movement kept him hyper-aware of her presence, the heat of her shoulder brushing his, the faint scent of shampoo lingering in the warm air.

“I feel like,” y/n murmured, eyes on the screws but a faint smirk on her lips, “sometimes it takes a little patience… and the right angle… to make it fit.”

She let the words hang for a beat, then added with a soft chuckle, “I mean, really, who knew furniture could be this hard?”

Yunho’s fingers stiffened around the screw, his pulse skipping. He swallowed, trying to convince himself she was only talking about the rail—but the way her words had landed, and the soft warmth of her arm brushing his shoulder, made it impossible.

“Uh… yeah,” he muttered, voice tight, “it really… needs precision.”

y/n leaned closer, adjusting the rail, her side brushing his. Her arm nudged his shoulder again under the guise of helping, and she caught the subtle stiffening of his muscles. A soft, barely-there laugh escaped her.

“You’re awfully quiet for someone struggling with screws,” she murmured, smirk lingering, though her tone remained casual. “Do I make you… nervous?”

His ears flushed red, hands fumbling slightly. “I—uh—no,” he stammered, eyes darting to the screws and back to her.

She hummed, tilting her head so a stray lock of hair brushed his arm. “Hmm, sure you’re not distracted?” she asked lightly, letting the teasing hang between them. “We wouldn’t want you losing your grip… or your focus.”

“Careful,” Yunho said softly, trying to maintain composure, “we don’t want to—uh—strip this one.”

“Mm,” y/n murmured, letting her fingers linger just a heartbeat longer than necessary on his arm. “Of course not.”

The room felt warmer somehow. Metal, sweat, and the subtle, unspoken tension between them mingled, every shift of her body a reminder of how close they were. Even Wasabi lifted his head, tail wagging slowly, as if sensing the tension without knowing why.

A short while later, the chaos was finally tamed. The bedframe stood complete, sturdy and perfect, and y/n couldn’t resist collapsing onto the matress—this time flopping onto her stomach with a dramatic sigh of relief. Her arms were stretched above her head, her cheek resting against the mattress, and the softness beneath her was a welcome contrast to the hardwood she’d endured for weeks.

She lifted her head just enough to glance at Yunho, who was kneeling on the floor, carefully collecting screws and tools. Even in this simple act, he looked impossibly delicate, brows furrowed in concentration, lips pressed into a thin line as if the world outside this room didn’t exist.

Her eyes traced the line of his broad shoulders tapering down to the strong sweep of his back, the way his tall, lean frame seemed even more impressive from this kneeling angle. The curve of his neck, the gentle flex of muscles as he shifted to reach a stray screw—everything about him made her pulse quicken.

There was something about him like this—normally tall, broad, and so commanding—but now on his knees, leaning just slightly toward her space, that made her chest tighten. 

His usual confidence had softened into a careful attentiveness, a kind of quiet deference, and she could feel the subtle pull of it, the way his body language seemed to silently wait for her approval. Every glance he cast at her, every small shift he made to accommodate her reach, spoke volumes of a man entirely aware of her presence, his usual dominance tucked away, leaving him achingly attentive, almost… helpless in the most endearing way.

“Thanks,” she murmured softly, letting the word linger, casual yet intimate.

Yunho’s head snapped up, eyes catching hers immediately. He froze for a heartbeat, his gaze involuntarily tracing the gentle curve of her back, the line of her waist, the subtle sway of her hips as she stretched out on the mattress. The light falling through the window highlighted the soft rise of her ass against the bed, and his throat went dry before he could remind himself to look away.

Her feet dangled slightly over the edge, relaxed and bare. y/n’s lips tugged into a faint, teasing smile, almost like she knew exactly what he was seeing—and exactly how he was feeling. The room suddenly felt smaller, charged, intimate, every quiet motion amplified.

y/n let out a soft laugh, smirking lightly at Yunho’s silent, careful movements. “You know,” she said, her voice teasing, “I didn’t expect such dedication for just… screws and metal.”

She lifted her upper body onto her elbows, resting her chin in the palm of her hand, elbow perched firmly on the mattress. Her gaze softened, eyes warm and playful, but the faint dance of her bare feet against the edge of the bed betrayed a nervous energy—anticipation, mischief, and just a touch of impatience.

“I think… we should celebrate,” she added, tilting her head slightly. “Takeout, my treat. As a thank-you for… all of this.” She gestured vaguely at the neatly stacked tools, cardboard scraps, protective foam, and empty plastic bags Yunho had spent the last few minutes carefully clearing away.

Yunho paused for a moment, his eyes flicked up at hers, a faint blush brushing his cheeks, and he nodded once, just enough to acknowledge her offer without breaking the quiet, attentive energy he always carried around her. Lips parting slightly before a soft, a nervous “Okay” slipped out.

y/n’s smile widened. Perfect. He was always so precise, so careful—and yet so vulnerable, especially in private moments like this. The contrast between his meticulous control and the subtle tremor in his movements when she teased him never failed to make her smile.

“Great,” she said lightly, pushing herself up fully now, sitting on the edge of the mattress. “I’ll order. You—keep your hands busy, Mister Neat Freak.” He chuckled softly, eyes crinkling at the corners, and set down the last stray piece of protective foam. 

y/n pushed herself off the mattress, stretching her arms overhead before disappearing from the bedroom, leaving Yunho alone with the last bits of chaos. He gathered the mess into a large garbage bag, hands careful and deliberate, taking a quiet breath as Wasabi lifted his head to watch.

The black German shepherd tilted his head, letting out a low, teasing pant as if daring him. Yunho’s lips twitched into a nervous smile. “Hey… I’m not the one whose human leaves chaos everywhere,” he murmured, voice soft, almost conspiratorial. The dog’s ears flicked, tail wagging slowly in apparent amusement.

“Yeah?” Yunho continued, crouching closer, eyes glancing toward the empty corridor for a brief second. “Well, maybe if she actually taught you some discipline, we’d be done faster… or maybe I just like getting stuck with this mess.”

Wasabi let out a playful bark, stepping forward as if to challenge him, and Yunho leaned back slightly, hands on his knees. “Okay, okay, I surrender,” he murmured, mock-exasperated, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips. The quiet room was suddenly alive with the comical duel between man and dog, soft laughter hiding behind careful composure.

Minutes later, the rustle of footsteps signaled y/n’s return. She appeared just as Yunho knelt to tie a knot in the now-full garbage bag, holding two beers in her hands. “Here,” she said, offering one to him while taking the bag from his hands with a simple, teasing, “Let me take care of that.”

They clinked the bottles softly, tilting their heads to sip, the warmth of the spring weather drifting in through the open windows making the cold beer feel even more refreshing—and somehow hotter, the physical exertion of building furniture leaving a subtle sheen on their skin.

y/n wandered toward the door with the bag, placing it there as a casual reminder to take out later. Yunho settled comfortably on the couch, legs stretched, his usual quiet, confident ease settling over him. He’d been here a thousand times, but moments like these—alone with her, small domestic tasks complete—made him feel like a silent part of her world.

y/n returned to the living room, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips as she approached the TV cabinet. She pulled out her latest video game purchase, dangling it teasingly in front of her like a prize. Her eyes sparkled with playful challenge as she looked at him.

“Want to try it out?” she asked, voice mock-innocent but full of daring, letting the competitive edge shine through. She swayed it slightly in her hand, letting the teasing energy hang between them. Yunho’s heart stuttered, the combination of her proximity, the playful challenge, and the subtle warmth still lingering from their shared work making him shift slightly on the couch, nerves and anticipation prickling through him.

By the fourth round, the coffee table was littered with the remnants of takeout—empty containers, crumpled napkins—and the faint clink of emptied beer bottles that had gone warm too quickly. The sun had long since set, and the sky outside the window was now a deep indigo, streaked with the first hints of night. A couple of lamps cast a warm, orange glow across the living room, softening the edges of the chaos around them and making the space feel smaller, cozier, and impossibly intimate.

They were laying on the couch, controllers in hand, knees brushing against each other as they hunched over the screen. Their eyes were locked on the game, expressions tight, brows furrowed with concentration. The soft ambient light made every flicker of emotion on his face more noticeable—the way his jaw tensed, the subtle twitch of his lips when he was ahead, the small, nervous laugh that always escaped him when things got tense.

The first three rounds had gone in his favor, Yunho’s precise timing and nerdy nature giving him a clear advantage. y/n had started the evening with a confident smirk, playful teasing, but now the simmer of frustration was rising. Her competitive streak, usually so controlled, was bubbling to the surface.

But at the end of the day, it was Yunho. Even when she wanted to groan and throw her controller across the room, she couldn’t stay truly mad—he was just… him. Patient, careful, nerdy, and utterly magnetic.

A mischievous spark lit in y/n’s chest. If she couldn’t beat him fair and square… well, she could certainly cheat. Just a little.

She shifted slightly on the couch, knees folding under her as she leaned closer, pretending to focus on the screen. Her shoulder brushed his, light and accidental. Once, twice. The third time, it lingered.

Yunho’s eyes darted to the side, then back to the screen, jaw tight with concentration. “Don’t,” he warned under his breath, voice low and strained.

y/n hummed, feigning innocence. “Don’t what?”

He swallowed, trying to keep his eyes on the flashing colors in front of him, his fingers tight around the controller. “You know what you’re doing.”

“I don’t,” she teased quietly, her hair brushing his arm as she leaned closer. The scent of her shampoo—something faintly citrus and clean—mingled with the warmth of her skin and the faint trace of beer in the air.

“Right,” he said, words clipped, his jaw tightening again. The tips of his ears had started to pink.

He tried to focus. He really did. But the game’s rhythm faltered under the weight of her closeness, of the soft laughter slipping past her lips every time his character stumbled. The kind that made the corner of his mouth twitch in frustration.

Then, with deliberate slowness, her fingers brushed against the back of his hand—barely a touch, but enough to make him flinch, the controller slipping in his grasp.

“Shit—!” he hissed as his combo broke, the screen flashing his defeat.

y/n leaned back, controller loose in her hands, a proud, small smile curving her mouth as her victory flashed on the screen.

Yunho dropped his head against the couch with a groan. “You cheated.”

She tilted her head, feigning confusion.“Me?”

“Yes, you,” he shot back, though his voice cracked halfway between annoyance and laughter. “You’re so—” He cut himself off, exhaling hard, rubbing a hand over his face.

y/n’s smirk softened into something warmer, quieter. She could still see the faint pink on his ears, the frustrated curve of his mouth. Reaching out, she rested her hand lightly on his thigh, her thumb brushing small, absent circles over the denim.

“Hey,” she murmured, teasing still, but gentler now. “It’s just a game.”

He turned his head slightly toward her, eyes sharp but soft around the edges. “Yeah,” he said, trying—and failing—to sound unaffected. “Right. Just a game.”

y/n let out a small hum, thoughtful, before shifting her weight on the couch. Her hand stayed on his thigh a beat longer than necessary, grounding herself before she moved. Then she pushed up onto her knees, reaching across him toward the small box on the side table near his end of the couch.

The couch dipped under her weight, her body curving as she stretched toward the table. The hem of her jeans tugged slightly, revealing the line of her lower back; the air between them seemed to fold in on itself. Yunho’s grip on the controller tightened, knuckles pale. He wasn’t sure where to look—at the screen, at his hands, anywhere but her. His breath caught despite himself, chest unmoving for a long, tense heartbeat.

y/n’s fingers brushed the edge of the box, nudging it closer until she could catch it fully. “Got it,” she murmured, her voice quiet but edged with satisfaction. She straightened slowly, careful and unhurried, as if she knew every inch of his focus was tracking her movement.

When she finally sat back beside him, the faintest smirk tugged at her lips. Yunho still hadn’t moved. His controller rested awkwardly in his hands, shoulders tight, ears flushed red.

She pretended not to notice. “Relax,” she said softly, setting the box down on her lap. “You look like you forgot how to breathe.”

y/n flipped open the box, the small sound of the hinge breaking the silence. Inside, neatly packed, lay a few pre-rolled blunts—her weekend ritual. She plucked one out with two fingers, casual but deliberate, the paper catching the warm lamplight.

Yunho watched from the corner of his eye, jaw set tight. She didn’t need to look at him to feel it—his attention, his restraint, the tension coiling beneath that calm surface.

She placed it between her lips, the motion slow and familiar, before leaning forward to reach for the lighter on the coffee table.

The click of the flame broke the silence—small, intimate, final.

The soft glow from the lamps caught the edge of her jaw, the smoke curling gently upward as she exhaled, and Yunho, still quiet beside her, pretended to keep his eyes on the TV. But he didn’t. Not really.

y/n took another slow drag, the smoke curling up between them, softening the edges of the room in its hazy warmth. Then, without a word, she turned her head, holding the blunt out toward him.

“Want some?” she asked, voice low, almost lazy.

Yunho hesitated for a second—like he was deciding if that was a good idea—but then nodded. His fingers brushed hers as he took it, the contact short, but it lingered like heat.

She didn’t move away. Instead, she leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder, her hair spilling down his arm. The scent of her lotion mixed with the smoke—sweet, heavy, and distracting.

Yunho brought the blunt to his lips, drawing in a careful, quiet breath. He needed it—not for the high, but for the stillness it offered, the illusion that he could slow the pulse that refused to calm.

Beside him, y/n shifted, her head coming to rest against his shoulder as she exhaled a lazy sigh. She felt utterly at ease, the picture of calm domestic warmth. Too close. Too easy. Too much—at least for him.

He held the blunt out for her, but she didn’t take it right away. Instead, her fingers trailed down, brushing his hand—the one still clutching his controller like a lifeline. With gentle insistence, she pried it from his grasp, their fingers brushing in the process.

The controller landed softly on the cushion beside them, forgotten. Her hand lingered just long enough to make him forget to breathe before slipping away.

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. The TV hummed quietly, the game’s bright colors casting faint reflections against the coffee table, the sound blending with the low crackle of the blunt between them.

Yunho exhaled again, smoke curling through the lamplight, fragile and wavering. He tried to focus on the ordinary—the hum of electricity, the soft creak of the couch, the rhythmic sound of Wasabi shifting in his bed nearby. But then y/n shifted again, her cheek brushing his shoulder, her breath fanning lightly against his neck, and the world narrowed back down to this. Just her. Just now.

When she finally took the blunt from him, her fingers brushed his again—a quiet, wordless exchange. She drew in, then tilted her head toward him, voice gentle and musing.

“So,” she murmured, eyes still half on the screen, half on the smoke curling between them, “do you ever… stop thinking for a bit? Like… really stop?”

Yunho took another drag before answering, the smoke escaping in a slow stream from the corner of his lips. “I try,” he said vaguely, eyes fixed on the faint glow of the TV screen. “Doesn’t usually work, though.”

She hummed, the sound small and thoughtful. Her fingers—absentminded, relaxed—drifted down to his thigh. Just tracing the seam of his jeans, following the line from his hip to his knee. Not intentional. Not sexual. Just… touch.

The kind that said she trusted him. The kind that killed him.

Yunho’s breath hitched, almost imperceptibly. He tried to keep still, but his muscles betrayed him—hips shifting, legs tensing. The blunt trembled between his fingers.

y/n’s gaze flicked down just in time to catch the subtle movement. The fabric of his jeans pulled tighter. Her eyes lingered, then slowly lifted to meet his.

Her voice was quiet—curious, teasing, but without malice. “…Yunho?”

He didn’t look at her. “Yeah?”

“Are you—” she hesitated, her tone dipping into something almost innocent, “—hard?”

The word landed softly, but it rippled through him like lightning. Yunho’s throat worked, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he reached forward to leave the blunt in the ashtray. 

“I—sorry.” He pushed himself halfway up from the couch, words tripping over themselves. “I’ll just—uh, bathroom—” Before he could fully stand up, her hand caught his thigh—light but steady, a gentle pressure that stopped him cold.

“Hey,” she said softly, the word landing somewhere between comfort and challenge. “It’s fine.” He froze, every muscle going still. The warmth of her palm anchored him in place — not pushing, not pulling, just there.

She tilted her head, her cheeks faintly flushed, smoke and lamplight catching in her lashes. “You don’t have to run off,” she murmured, voice lower now, almost playful but not unkind.

For a moment, neither of them breathed.

Yunho’s breath stuttered, his pulse hammering beneath his skin. He looked at her like she was both danger and gravity—something he couldn’t fight even if he wanted to.

y/n’s voice softened, the teasing gone. “Hey,” she said again, this time almost a whisper, something careful threading through it. “You don’t have to be nervous.”

He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Just a small nod, uncertain and sweet and painfully honest.

Her hand, still resting against his thigh, slid upward—not with hunger, but with a slow, coaxing ease. It came to rest against his side, fingers brushing the hem of his shirt. Her touch wasn’t about taking, but about calming. A silent, you can breathe.

“Look at me,” she said softly.

He did. Big eyes, glassy and uncertain under the lamplight. The kind of look that made her heart squeeze—so much wanting in him, and yet so much hesitation.

y/n leaned in a fraction closer, letting her breath ghost over his lips, her scent wrapping around him like a warm, intoxicating cloud. Yunho’s chest rose and fell faster, every nerve suddenly humming as if she had somehow flipped a switch inside him.

The game's forgotten controller slipped from the couch cushion, clattering softly to the floor, but neither of them noticed. Laughter had evaporated into heavy quiet, the air between them crackling like a storm about to break.

Her fingers lingered in his hair, combing through the strands slowly, deliberately, grounding him while teasing his restraint. “Let me help you with it,” she murmured again, voice softer, intimate, yet full of promise.

He swallowed, the sound too loud in his own ears, eyes flicking nervously between hers. “You—you really know how to ruin me,” he muttered, voice breaking in a way that made her smile even wider.

y/n leaned closer, letting her lips brush against his cheek first, slow, feather-light kisses that traced along the edge of his mouth. She tilted her head, giving him the tiniest chance to pull back. He didn’t. His eyes were wide, pupils blown, lips parting slightly under her teasing.

Then, finally, she pressed her mouth to his, soft at first, testing, claiming. Yunho froze for a fraction, a shiver running down his spine at the contact, before a low, unsure hum escaped him. His hands twitched in his lap, hesitant, wanting to find her, to hold her, but unsure of the permission in her movement.

y/n deepened the kiss, tilting her head, letting her hand slip from his hair to his jaw, tilting his face gently, guiding him. Her lips were warm, soft, and demanding all at once, helping him let go, to just sink into her touch. Yunho’s body leaned forward instinctively, relaxing into the warmth, a quiet shiver running down his spine.

Her thumb brushed over his cheek, fingertips sliding to the nape of his neck as her mouth moved with his, soft, teasing, and urgent all at once. He let out a small, breathless moan, somewhere between startled and wanting, the rest of the world fading out.

y/n pulled back just enough to let her forehead rest against his, eyes half-lidded, lips brushing his again, whispering against them: “See? Not so hard to let go.”

Yunho let out a shaky laugh, soft and a little disbelieving, his hands finally moving on their own—brushing her sides, tracing her ribs, just to make sure she was really there. y/n felt the spark, the proof she wasn’t imagining it. He wanted her too—and that was all she needed.

Before she even realized it, she grabbed his shirt and pushed him back into the couch. It came out harder than she meant—too much heat, too much adrenaline.

Yunho’s breath hitched, his hands falling away from her sides as he flopped back against the cushions, eyes wide, lips parted, a mix of surprise and arousal flickering across his face. “y/n…” he whispered, breathless, but his hands moved instinctively, eager to keep her close.

y/n kept her eyes on him, the air between them heavy. She stayed put, straddling his lap like she owned the space. She kissed him again, slow at first—soft, teasing—before his breath hitched, and she took it further, her tongue finding his, tasting the faint salt of his skin. 

Her hands slid down over his shoulders and chest, exploring without hurry, until one reached his hair. A small tug, a quiet groan from him—enough to make her grin against his lips.

She pulled back just enough to breathe, their mouths still hovering close. Her fingers stayed on his jaw, keeping him there, her eyes dropping to his lips. They were red and swollen, and she couldn’t resist—her tongue darted up in a quick, feral lick, lapping from Yunho's bottom lip to his top like a desperate animal. 

Yunho trembled, a rough, broken sound catching in his throat. His hands clamped onto her thighs, desperate, like he needed the touch to stay grounded.

y/n grinned, her breath brushing his skin. For a heartbeat, she studied him—flushed cheeks, half-lidded eyes, a mix of shock and want—and then she kissed him again, deeper this time, all fire and instinct, nothing held back.

Their lips moved together like they’d been holding back for too long, hunger spilling out between gasps. She shifted in his lap, the move unsteady, instinctive, until her thighs caged his hips and her body fit against his like it was meant to.

Her weight shifted fully onto him now, thighs bracketing his hips, the warmth of her core pressing down through the thin barrier of her jeans against the rigid line of his arousal. 

The heat of him was undeniable—his erection pressed just right against her clit through her jeans, each subtle shift sending electric jolts up her spine. y/n ground down harder, deliberate, slow rolls of her hips soaking her panties more with every passing second, the damp warmth seeping through denim as her arousal built. 

Yunho shuddered beneath her, his breath hitching against her lips, a mix of raw want and shy disbelief in his tightening grip on her thighs. It wasn’t polished or controlled—just trembling, real, and so him.

Their kiss faltered, messy and breathless, half lips, half gasps. Her grinding nudged him just enough to pull a soft, whiny sound from his throat—needy, pleading, barely audible but vibrating straight to her core. Those little noises—his shaky breaths, the tiny hitches—were all she needed to know he wanted her as much as she wanted him, her pulse pounding as she tugged his hair, drawing another broken moan that made her clench tight.

The air turned thick, heavy, like the room was holding its breath. y/n broke the kiss, trailing her lips along his jaw, nipping the sensitive spot below his ear—sharp little bites that stung sweet before she soothed them with soft kisses like an apology she didn't mean. 

Yunho’s breath caught, a high, desperate whine escaping as he arched into her, chasing the mix of pain and pleasure. Her mouth moved to his neck, grazing the taut skin, sucking lightly where his pulse raced, teeth dragging just enough to mark him before her tongue swirled slow, tasting the salty heat of his throat. 

He loved it, god, the way his moans grew throatier, hips bucking up instinctively, pressing harder against her core—he’s so hard, the thought sparking through her, urging her to unravel him completely.

Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt, working them open with deliberate slowness, each soft pop baring more of his skin—the pale expanse of his chest, the faint trail of dark hair disappearing below his navel. His breath hitched, a flush creeping up his neck like a spreading flame, and in a sudden flicker of shyness, his arms twitched up, crossing over his torso as if to shield himself from her hungry stare, the vulnerability of being so exposed almost too much.

y/n didn’t let him. She grabbed his wrists, firm but gentle, and guided his hands to her ass, pressing them against the denim. "Don't hide from me, Yunho," she said, voice low and playful, with just enough edge to make him shiver. She held his gaze, his wide, nervous eyes locking with hers—full of want but flickering with that shy uncertainty. "I want you to feel how much I want this... and I want to see every bit of you looking back at me like you can't get enough."

Her words hit him like a spark, making his eyes sharpen with a tentative heat. His fingers squeezed her ass, hesitant at first, then firmer, testing how she felt under his hands as he stared back, bolder now. 

She tugged his shirt off, tossing it aside without looking, and took her time eyeing him—his chest heaving, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, eyes stuck on her like she was his whole world. “God, look at you,” she murmured, voice thick with want, breath hot against his skin.

Her lips hit his chest, kissing slowly along his collarbone, making him tremble, then nipping at his ribs, sharp enough to make him gasp. His hands gripped her ass tighter, anchoring himself. But as her mouth drifted lower, trailing wet, deliberate paths toward the waistband of his jeans, y/n began to slide down his body inch by inch—her weight shifting, her breasts brushing his thighs.

Yunho’s hands shifted—one trembling as it rested on her lower back, the other grazing her arm, light and unsure, like he was scared to hold too tight but couldn’t let go either.

Yunho’s eyes were wide, almost dazed, as y/n sank down in front of him, her movements slow and confident, her gaze locked on his—dark, intense, full of promise. Her hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it with a soft clink that cut through the quiet room, then tugged down his jeans and underwear in one smooth pull. 

His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, curving up toward his stomach, the tip already slick with pre-cum. God, he’s huge, she thought, a flicker of nerves hitting her—how’s that even gonna fit?—but it quickly turned to a thrill, heat pooling low in her belly, urging her on.

His cheeks flushed red, composure crumbling as he stared down at her, like she might disappear if he blinked. y/n’s fingers wrapped around his shaft, warm and solid in her hand, starting with light, teasing strokes—up and down, slow, her thumb circling the tip, spreading the slickness. Yunho’s hips jerked, a shaky “y/n…” slipping out, his voice raw with need. 

She just smirked, wicked and knowing, leaning in to trace tiny licks along the underside of his cock, from base to tip, peppering soft kisses on the sensitive skin. His thighs trembled, little gasps escaping him, her deliberate touches unraveling him bit by bit, his hand twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to stop her or pull her closer.

Then she took him into her mouth, lips stretching around the head, the heat of him overwhelming as she moved down slow—torturously slow, every inch a tease that had Yunho’s thoughts spiraling: Fuck, she’s killing me, so wet, so warm… please, faster. His hips twitched involuntarily, but she held him steady with one hand at his base, fingers squeezing in rhythm with her descent, keeping him steady while she worked him. 

Her tongue shifted with precision—broad, flat licks along the vein that made sparks shoot through him, then quick, playful flicks at the sensitive ridge just below the head, pulling a string of curses—“Shit, y/n, fuck”—before swirling lazy circles around the head, tasting the salty leak of pre-cum, each move designed to make him shake and beg for more.

y/n worked him deeper, inch by slow inch, her mouth gliding over him with agonizing patience, throat relaxing to take him in until her nose brushed the trimmed hair at his pelvis, the musky scent of him—sweat and arousal—hitting her senses hard. She hummed around his length, satisfied, the vibration pulling a ragged moan from Yunho’s chest, his body trembling under her.

Yunho's hand shook as it rose, sweeter in its instinct, reaching for her cheek—fingers brushing there with a gentle touch, thumb tracing her jaw like he needed to feel her to stay grounded in the heat of her mouth. 

But y/n paused, just enough to meet his eyes with a mischievous glint, shaking her head. She caught his wrist, guiding his hand from her face to her hair, threading his fingers through the strands and pressing his palm against her scalp—a quiet nudge: grab me, move me—take what you need. 

His grip tightened, testing, a shy tug that made her hum again, approval buzzing around him as she picked up her pace, bobbing faster, the sensation twisting tight in his gut.

But her mouth was too much, pulling him under fast—her throat clenching around him, the wet heat and that hum driving him wild. He couldn’t hold back, hips jerking up in shallow thrusts, an attempt to fuck her throat with a desperate edge, her gags loud and messy, like something filthy and alive. 

His fingers tightened in her hair, knuckles white as he pulled her close, holding her there for a few seconds—fuck, too good, too much—her throat fluttering around him, squeezing with every swallow, pushing him dangerously close to the edge.

y/n choked around him, the sound wet and obscene, but she took it—endured the burn, tears slipping hot down her cheeks as his cock buried impossibly deep, her eyes rolling back in her head from the overwhelming stretch, nose smashed against the coarse trim of his pelvis.

But Yunho felt the coil in his gut snap tight, too close to bursting, and he didn’t want it like this—not spilling down her throat when he ached to feel her walls around him. With a rough curse, he yanked her off, pulling her hair to lift her mouth free, spit and pre-cum stringing from her swollen lips to his slick, twitching cock.

He slumped back against the couch, head dropping, eyes shut tight as he panted, fighting to hold off—not yet, fuck, breathe. y/n stayed there a moment, catching her breath, wiping her mouth, mascara streaking her flushed face. Her eyes fixed on him—wrecked, chest heaving, cock heavy and soaked—and a smirk curled her lips, feral and triumphant, knowing she’d pushed him to the brink. 

She stood slowly, hooking her thumbs into her jeans, sliding them down with her panties in a careless toss, leaving her bare, skin glistening with her own arousal, ready to take him apart all over again.

She settled back onto his lap, bare from the waist down, the cool air brushing her slick thighs as she straddled him, his hard cock pressing hot against her inner thigh. Her tank top hugged her curves tight, one strap slipped down her shoulder, the other strap holding up the fabric, her nipples hard and poking through like they were begging for attention.

Yunho's head was still heavy against the couch, neck stretched out from how close she'd pushed him to the edge earlier. y/n leaned in, taking advantage, her lips finding his throat—soft, lingering kisses, open-mouthed and warm over his racing pulse. 

His eyes fluttered open, hazy and dark, pulling back to her like he couldn't look away—watching how she moved on top of him, half-naked and bold, that loose strap teasing the edge of her exposed skin. But a flush hit his neck quick, that shy side peeking out as his gaze dropped to her breast, then snapped away, cheeks turning pink like he was caught staring.

It made y/n smile, soft but with a predatory edge, her hips grinding deliberate against his still-hard length, feeling him twitch. She grabbed his hands, placing them over her tank top fabric—palms cupping her breasts through the thin cotton, thumbs grazing the curve underneath her breast.. 

She leaned close, whispering against his lips, "Touch me, Yunho. Please." The plea wrapped in her invitation hit him hard, his breath catching sharp, eyes widening with that mix of nerves and want.

At first, he was all clumsy care—fingers shaking as they spread over her breasts through the fabric, eyes locked on hers, wide and intense, like he was trying to read every reaction on her face. He pressed tentative kisses to her shoulder, soft and hesitant. His thumbs circled her nipples slow at first, then rubbed firmer, the cotton dragging rough enough to make her shiver hard, her core clenching around nothing.

"Yunho..." she breathed out, half plea, half encouragement, and it flipped something in him—hunger taking over fast. He hooked a finger under the loose strap, tugging the tank down to free her breast fully, cool air hitting her skin sharp against the heat in his stare. No pause—he latched his mouth onto her nipple, groaning low and starved, sucking hard, tongue swirling until she hissed and arched into him, fingers digging into his shoulders to hold on. 

His hands got bolder, kneading her flesh, the other still teasing through the tank, kisses trailing down her sternum, under her breast—surrender turning fierce, teeth grazing light to sting, pulling a gasp from her that matched his shaky breaths.

One hand on his shoulder, nails biting into his skin for balance, the other wrapped his cock—still rock-hard, twitching desperate in her fist, slick from her spit and his pre-cum making it slide easily. 

y/n teased him bad, rubbing the head along her slit slow at first, dragging up and down her wet folds, coating him in her arousal, each pass bumping her clit and sparking nerves alive.

It wrecked him—torture, his hips bucking up with a high, broken whine. "F-fuck, y/n, please," he begged, voice lewd and cracked, breaths ragged as she kept him teasing at her entrance, slicking him up until he throbbed hard, veins jumping under her palm. "You're so wet... shit, I can feel you dripping on me. Let me inside, please, I’ll fuck you so good."

She gave in finally, lining him up, the tip pushing in with a wet schlick, sinking down slowly. The stretch burned—brutal, almost too much, her walls gripping the first inches tight as she adjusted to his size, gasping sharp. Yunho moaned deep from his chest—"Ah, yes, just like that... so tight around me, fuck." 

"Oh god, you're splitting me open," she panted, pausing halfway in, forehead falling to his shoulder, breathing through the full feeling, their hot breaths mixing, his whiny groans humming against her.

She rolled her hips tentative, taking him deeper bit by bit until he was all the way in, clit grinding his pelvis, heat building low again as he bucked weak, moaning messy. "Faster, please, move faster... fuck."

y/n chuckled low, husky and winning, smirking as she watched him break—eyes half-shut, mouth open with those needy whines hitting her core like fire. She loved his begging, how his shy voice cracked on her name, that sweet submissive energy twisting desperate; it made her feel in control, wanted, like she could tease him forever. 

So she kept it slow—torturous, but deep and hard each time, slamming down to the base with a slap, walls squeezing him like a fist, grinding her clit while holding back the speed he craved.

"Fuck—y/n, please, faster," he begged again, hands twitching on her hips, fingers pressing bruises as he tried to pull her harder, but she pinned his wrists down with a teasing eyebrow raise, circling her hips lazy instead, dragging another whimper. 

"You're killing me... so good, but—ah—I need more, baby, please let me fuck you properly." His pleas were shy-edged still, voice high and whiny, eyes pleading up at her, body trembling under her control, that nerdy hesitation making her want to push him further, draw out every whine until he was fully hers.

Yunho squirmed a little, wrists flexing under her hold, but he didn't fight it—too shy, too eager to please, his cock throbbing inside her with every slow roll, pre-cum mixing with her slick. y/n leaned down, nipping his ear, whispering, "Not yet, baby. Beg nicer." 

He whimpered again, hips stuttering up helpless, face flushing deeper, the subby side shining through in his wide eyes and bitten lip. She rocked deeper, loving how he unraveled slow under her pace, his breaths coming in soft, needy pants that begged without words.

The tension built like that—her in charge, him yielding, every grind pulling more of those shy moans, his body arching just enough to chase her without overstepping. y/n's own heat climbed, walls fluttering around him, but she held the reins, savoring his desperation, making the power rush sweeter.

y/n’s teasing had pushed him to the edge, his words melting into a high whine as she lifted almost off him, leaving just the tip brushing her entrance before slamming down hard, the fullness hitting her so deep it stole her breath. Her smirk widened, catching the frustrated tears in his lashes, knowing she’d milk every desperate plea from him.

Yunho’s control was slipping, his breaths coming in rough, heavy pants, each one hot against her collarbone, edged with a low growl that vibrated where their bodies met. Then, the air shifted—he wasn’t just following her lead anymore. His hips snapped up, meeting her with thrusts that knocked the air from her lungs, a quiet fire sparking in his eyes, no longer soft but sharp, determined, claiming.

His hands, pinned under hers, flexed as her grip loosened, the overwhelming pleasure unraveling her hold. Those thrusts weren’t shy now—hard, precise, dragging his cock against her walls in a way that sparked heat low in her belly, her gasps sharp and uneven. “Y-Yunho—fuck,” she whimpered, her fingers slackening, nails grazing his wrists as her body shook, letting him thrust up harder. 

His eyes darkening with a fierce edge, like he’d taken back a piece of the control she’d held so tight.

The shift hit fast. With a low growl, Yunho’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him in a blur of sweat and need. He pulled out with a wet pop, her walls clenching at the sudden emptiness, a whine escaping her as he flipped them in a messy tangle of limbs. Her back hit the couch with a soft thud, breath knocked out, legs splayed wide around his hips in a rough missionary sprawl.

He loomed over her, his broader frame caging her in, the shy, nerdy boy gone—replaced by something raw, commanding. His eyes, once wide and pleading, were now dark, predatory slits, pinning her with a look that promised to take everything she gave. 

Without a word, he lined himself up, the slick head of his cock nudging her folds before pushing in slow, deliberate, both of them hissing as the stretch burned through her again. y/n’s moan broke high and needy as he sank in, filling her until his hips pressed flush, balls heavy against her ass. 

Yunho groaned low, forehead touching hers briefly, their ragged breaths mixing. “Fuck,” he rasped, voice rough, sending shivers down her spine.

His thrusts turned steady, unforgiving—deep, hard, spearing into her with wet, filthy sounds, her walls gripping him tight, toes curling in the air. He teased her then, enough to make her squirm—grinding slow against her g-spot before pulling back, leaving just the tip inside, smirking as their eyes locked in a heated challenge. 

“You like that, don’t you? Had me begging earlier… now you’re the one spread out, dripping for me,” he murmured, voice low and dirty, punctuated by a sharp thrust that buried him deep, ripping a gasp from her. His hands gripped her thighs hard, fingers digging in as he pulled her legs around his waist, her heels pressing into his lower back. Her hands flew to his shoulders, one sliding down to scratch at his flexing spine as he fucked her harder, the wet slap of skin loud in the room.

Their eyes met—hers hazy, his sharp and consuming, like he was memorizing her falling apart—before his mouth crashed onto hers, all teeth and tongue, swallowing her moans as he pounded faster. He pulled back to bite her shoulder, sharp and possessive, groaning against her skin as he sucked a mark there, her hand tangling in his hair to hold him close, the sting melting into heat as she arched up, legs tightening around him.

The room was just them now—the wet, rhythmic slap of their bodies, their breaths ragged and tangled, her arousal coating him, dripping down her thighs. Yunho shifted again, rising to his knees without pulling out, the angle deepening, making her walls flutter in protest. He lifted her legs, draping them over his shoulders, his muscles taut like he was ready to pounce. 

One hand held her calves steady, thumb brushing the sensitive skin there; the other found her hand, fingers lacing tight, grounding her in the intensity. His lips pressed soft, heated kisses along her ankle, trailing down her calf, nipping lightly before soothing with his tongue, eyes flicking up to hers, dark and focused, holding her gaze through the worship.

In this position, y/n was lost—screaming now, raw, broken cries tearing from her throat as he pounded harder, his cock hitting that spot inside her with brutal precision, stars bursting behind her eyes, vision blurring. “Fuck, Yunho—yes,” she gasped, back arching off the couch, her free hand clawing at the cushions. 

“Look at you, taking me so good,” he growled, voice thick with dominance, no trace of the shy boy left—just raw intent, his grip tightening, eyes burning into hers as he pushed them both toward the edge, her moans mixing with his low groans, the heat between them consuming everything else.

y/n’s back arched off the couch, every nerve screaming for release as the coil in her belly wound tighter with each grind, Yunho’s eyes locked on hers, daring her to break first. “Yunho—god, yes, don’t stop,” she gasped, their clasped hands her only anchor in the frenzy, his teasing smirk shifting to something fiercer, more devoted, as he matched her rhythm, no longer just following but driving it.

“That’s it, take it,” he rasped, voice rough, eyes sharp and dark, the command edged with raw need that made her clench around him, teetering on the edge. The shy Yunho was nowhere to be seen, now bolder, more in control, his gaze pinning her as he took charge.

He felt the heat building in his gut, tight and urgent, groaning against her ankle as her walls gripped him—tight, fluttering, pulling him in with every thrust, telling him she was close, maybe closer than him. “Fuck, y/n, you're squeezing me so goddamn tight… gonna make me cum if you keep that up, but shit, I can feel you, baby, you're right there, aren't you? So close for me...” 

His voice was gritty, words spilling out raw and hungry as he shifted, growling low, folding her in half under him. Her thighs pressed to her chest, knees hooked over his elbows, bodies locked tight in a mating press that pinned her down, letting him thrust deep, relentless, each wet slap echoing her choked moans.

His fingers slid between them, finding her clit swollen and slick—damn, she’s soaked—his touch gliding smooth, circling firm and fast, matching his brutal thrusts. His hips faltered, rhythm breaking as his own climax loomed, balls tight, pressure unbearable, but he held back—wanted her to go first. 

“Cum for me, y/n—please, let me feel you soak my cock, I need it,” he begged, voice cracking, fingers flicking her clit faster, desperate, pushing her toward the edge. y/n was gone, babbling—“Y-Yunho, ah—fuck, I—nngh—close, oh god…”—her words crumbling into raw cries, eyes rolling back as his touch and dirty talk dragged her under. It was messy, intense, pulling them both into the fire.

She shattered first, her orgasm hitting like a wave, walls convulsing around him, squeezing so hard it felt like she’d pull him apart. Then she squirted, a hard, relentless gush, soaking his pelvis, dripping down her thighs, staining the couch. 

Yunho’s eyes widened, shock flashing across his face—he’d never seen that, never felt the hot, wet rush coating him, but it lit him up, raw and feral. “Fuck, that’s so hot, you’re drenching me, baby, keep going,” he groaned, words half-lost, hips snapping erratic to chase the slick heat, each thrust smoother, deeper, driving him wild.

It pushed him over—too much—and he buried himself deep with a guttural moan, spilling inside her in thick pulses, filling her until it leaked out, mixing with her slick in a messy pool. Their moans tangled, her body shaking with overstimulation under him, thighs trembling against his shoulders as aftershocks hit hard—her nerves raw, his muscles seizing, cock twitching with faint throbs that pulled low whimpers from him. He slumped forward, forehead on her shoulder, sweat-damp hair sticking to her skin, their breaths rough and uneven, the air heavy with sex and surrender.

The tremors didn’t stop, her body still quaking, walls fluttering around him, milking every last shudder. Yunho’s own aftershocks were brutal—abs and thighs tight, each pulse of his cock drawing soft, broken sounds from his throat, his dominant edge softening back into something vulnerable. 

He held her close, one hand still laced with hers, the other stroking her thigh gently, grounding them both as the intensity faded. y/n’s gasps turned to soft whimpers, her body twitching with leftover sparks, while Yunho’s breaths slowed, his shy side creeping back in the way he nuzzled her shoulder, almost hiding his face. 

The room quieted, their connection lingering in the shared heat, the unspoken shift between them settling like a promise.

The quiet settled around them, soft and easy, the distant hum of the city drifting in through the window like a lullaby. Yunho stayed pressed against her, not pulling out yet—just pressing against her with a boneless weight, his head resting lightly on her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart slowly matching his own.

His hand lay warm on her waist, thumb tracing lazy circles over her hip, simple gestures that spoke louder than words. y/n’s fingers found his hair, brushing and combing at the nape of his neck in gentle, soothing strokes, nails scraping gently against his scalp. He hummed softly, almost a purr, a low, contented sound that made her smile against his hair.

The room felt small and quiet, the heat of their closeness lingering where sweat had dried. y/n let out a soft, breathy laugh, tilting his face up with a playful tug of a damp strand of hair. “God, Yunho… look at you,” she murmured, voice warm and teasing, her chest rising and falling against his. It wasn’t flashy or urgent—just them, together, and perfectly alive in the quiet.

His eyes cracked open, hazy and sated, but the moment they met hers, that familiar flush crept back up his neck like clockwork—the shy, nerdy boy resurfacing in full force, wide-eyed and endearingly flustered, as if the beast who'd just folded her in half and wrung screams from her throat was a stranger he'd borrowed for the night. 

He ducked his head instinctively, burying his burning face against her collarbone with a muffled groan, one arm tightening around her waist like he could hide in her skin.

She laughed then, a genuine, light peal that shook them both gently, her free hand cupping his jaw to coax him back up, thumb brushing his swollen lip. "What happened to that guy? The one who had me seeing stars and begging like an idiot? Sex turns you into a total beast... but this? Cuddling up like my soft little puppy? Adorable." 

Her tone was all fondness, no bite, eyes sparkling with mischief as she watched him squirm—cheeks blooming pink, a bashful smile tugging at his mouth despite himself, that boyish awkwardness making her heart squeeze in the best way. 

"Shut up," he mumbled, voice thick and sleepy, but there was no heat in it, just a shy nuzzle into her neck, his breath tickling her skin as he pressed a tentative kiss there, like an apology wrapped in gratitude. "You're the one who... you know. Started it."

y/n chuckled softly, pressing her lips to his hair. “Right… I did, didn’t I?”

He lifted his head slightly, just enough to meet her gaze, eyes earnest now beneath the pink haze of sleep and exertion. “I know… I know I’m… probably terrible at saying this,” he admitted, voice low and hesitant, “but I… I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone like I want you. Not just tonight, not just…” His words faltered, shy, searching her face for permission to go further. “I mean… I know from the way you are, from everything… you make me want… more than I’ve ever wanted before.”

y/n’s chest tightened, warmth blooming as she tucked her head back against him, fingers weaving through his hair. “Yunho… you don’t have to say it all at once. I… I think I’ve known that for a long time. I just like hearing it anyway.”

A quiet, satisfied hum left him, settling back against her chest, the tension of vulnerability easing. He pressed a soft kiss to her collarbone again, murmuring a shy, “I’m glad… you feel that too,” before nuzzling closer, hiding his flushed face against her skin.

No more words followed—just the steady, comforting beat of shared silence, limbs tangled loose and lazy, the air thick with trust and intimacy. The unspoken truth lingered between them like a promise, warm and indelible: whatever this was, wild beast or lost puppy, it had changed for good.

masterlist

General taglist: @livonianmaia

a/n: okay listen 😭 i’ve been proofreading the most emotionally devastating chapter from the san fic and it’s been wrecking me beyond repair. so i needed to write something completely emotionless and brain-empty to survive 😌✨

and like... yunho’s been bias-wrecking me for months now (seonghwa, babe, be careful). he’s just so CUTE??? i’m so weak for him 😭 i had to let him be a mess for a bit.pretty much porn w a sprinkle of plot (but is the plot even important? no. no it’s not).

we all love nerdy yunho.

pls enjoy this mess <3

TOP

1. Jongho

Jongho feels most claimed when he’s buried as deeply inside you as you want him to be, feeling your walls grip around him. He is a service top through and through, most of his pleasure coming from seeing, feeling, and hearing yours. He has a soft spot for being praised and will do anything you say as long as it makes him your good boy. But he also knows his own strength and doesn’t want to be too rough with you, so he prefers to let you dictate the pace and ride him. Otherwise he might get too worked up from you praising him and leave you sore for a while, which he always apologizes profusely for even when you assure him that’s exactly what you wanted.

He typically leans more vanilla, but he is open to trying most things at least once for you. Whether he is into something or not, he will be really into seeing how much pleasure it brings you. He would definitely be reluctant to bottom at first, scared of the vulnerability of it all and scared it might hurt. But once you two try it, he realizes he enjoys it occasionally. He may even be pretty eager to sometimes as long as you’re gentle and give him lots of praise. When he does bottom, his favorite position is missionary so he can hold you as closely as possible. This comforts him through the vulnerable feeling.

2. Yunho

Yunho is a service top who loves it when you take control, tugging him by a leash in missionary and steering his movements. He is just eager to please you, preferring to top because when he’s the one doing, he is obeying your commands. He loves giving you head too, especially on his knees while you stroke and occasionally tug at his hair. Your praise and adoration fuel him almost primally, and he can make you cum in seconds if you give him enough feedback.

He's a golden retriever boy who craves your praise and guidance. Bottoming isn’t usually his preference, but he doesn’t mind being fingered or eaten out, and he enjoys wearing tail butt plugs for you. When he does bottom, he can be a little shy about making eye contact during so he prefers being bent over and fucked from behind. He loves how you manage to make him feel small and weak in those moments despite him being so much larger. He would love when you tell him what a big dumb puppy he is.

3. San

San is very eager both to top and to bottom, but has a slight preference for topping. He likes to give himself the illusion of physical control most of the time, but only because he knows how fast you’ll show him who is really in control. He doesn’t forget his place but he loves to be reminded of it. He loves to tease and provoke you, but nowhere near as much as he loves what it results in. He doesn’t hold back when he tops you, knowing you’ll go twice as hard on him later.

If you can still walk when he’s done with you, all it takes is you grabbing him and flipping him onto his stomach, pinning his hands onto the bed beside him. Once you take over, he doesn’t resist even a little bit because you’ve got him exactly where he wanted to be. Suddenly he’s surrendering to you and begging for more while you pound him into the mattress. If you can’t still walk after, he will enjoy being told how pathetic he is for not being able to hold back, and he will look forward to just how harshly you’ll punish him in a few days. He also loves eating you out (pussy if you have one, ass if you don’t, and especially when you sit on his face) and would gladly let you do the same to him.

VERSE

4. Seonghwa

Seonghwa is equally eager to top or bottom, and he’s good at both. He has a knack for sensing your desires and fulfilling them because he pays so much attention to your body language and reactions. He has a slight preference for eye contact and being more active physically like riding you if he’s bottoming or missionary if he’s topping, but this is so he can take in your every expression, noise, or reaction and adjust his movements accordingly. Nothing is more fulfilling to him than seeing how good he’s making you feel. Your reactions alone could make him cum completely untouched while using his hands, mouth, toys, or anything you want him to use on you.

He also loves dressing up for you, wearing things like skirts and crotchless, backless tights with panties that can easily be moved aside for whichever way you want to take him. Along with dressing up, little makes him feel prettier than being covered in hickeys as physical proof of how irresistible he was to you. Even though he typically prefers controlling the pace physically, at the end of the day he knows you’re really in control. Hungrily eye him while he’s all dolled up and next thing you know it he’s on his knees. Caress his waist and tell him what a pretty boy he is and he’s lying on his back for you. Whatever outfits he notices you have the strongest reactions to will be the ones he wears the most.

5. Yeosang

No matter which way you want him, Yeosang wants nothing more than to please you. His preference between topping and bottoming depends entirely on yours. He can be very sensitive though and sometimes cums too fast when he tops you. He gets very embarrassed about this, but he always makes it up to you by letting you use his mouth to get off, not stopping til you’re satisfied. He is as skilled as he is obedient, so when you tell him what to do, make sure you’re prepared. He won’t stop until you tell him to.

When topping he loves it the most when you ride him in amazon position, his legs over your shoulders. When bottoming he likes to be manhandled, thrown from one position to another or bent over any surface to take you from behind. He definitely has the strength to resist, but he would never want to. He is completely devoted to your pleasure, and would let you take him whenever, wherever, and however you wanted him.

BOTTOM

6. Hongjoong

Hongjoong is definitely more bottom-leaning. This bossy brat likes to start out acting like he’s in charge, being a little tease to try and rile you up. He would start out riding you, pinning your wrists down onto the bed and trying to order you around, while really waiting for you to crumble his facade. His goal would be for you to rip your wrists from his grip, slapping his hands away and gripping onto his hips as you take over and thrust relentlessly into him from beneath. His control would slowly falter but he’d try to hold on, taunting you with “Is that all you’ve got?” The goal here would be for you to flip him over and practically jackhammer him.

Once he’s been put in his place, he’d drop his act entirely and become a begging, whimpering mess for you. No matter how hard and fast you’re fucking him, he’d somehow keep begging you to go harder. He could definitely top too if you wanted, but in general he would default to wanting to bottom unless you initiated otherwise. His need to be stretched and filled by you would be insatiable. He would love being taunted back just as much as he taunted you before. Remind him of his role as captain and tell him he’s not acting like one…

7. Wooyoung

He’s a true bottom, and a really bratty and masochistic one at that. No matter where you are, he will find it in himself to try to seduce you to the point of dragging him into a bathroom somewhere and fucking him. His favorite thing is when you fuck him from behind and he loves having his ass spanked or hair pulled while you do. When you’re on top of him, he loves taunting you until your hands are around his neck to shut him up. When you’re not fucking him, you get use out of his mouth while he chokes on your cock/suffocates beneath your pussy.

Wooyoung is a decent top when he wants to be, but the thing is that he usually doesn't. He can definitely enjoy it as a punishment though. He loves when you tie him down and ride him until he’s a sobbing, overstimulated mess from cumming so many times. If you’d prefer for him to be physically on top, he could also enjoy having his hands cuffed behind his back while you forcefully grip onto his hips and thrust him into you. He’d rarely ever say your safe word because he would want you to show such little mercy.

8. Mingi

Poor Mingi has a very impressively sized cock but wouldn’t be able to get much use out of it. He could try, but he wouldn’t last even a few minutes when topping you. At first he’d be embarrassed about this, but he’d quickly grow to love being your personal fleshlight. He would find it so hot how someone practically half his size could throw him around and stretch him out so easily. He would be all flirty and try to act dominant, but the moment you have him pinned against the wall, it would be over. The sight of your smaller wrists managing to forcefully grip his larger ones and the fact that he’d have to look down at the person restraining him would make him feel so deliciously pathetic.

WHY THEY LIKE BEING REDUCED TO A CRYING MESS:

-> Seonghwa:

He's is the blueprint for "pretty boys crying." Pretty face and even prettier when crying. He’s naturally elegant and soft, so there’s an undeniable allure to seeing him totally undone babbling incoherently. He’d let you have control, let you ruin him piece by piece, let you tease him until he’s trembling biting his lip to stifle the whines and sobs, he's a great sub, willing to do anything even if overwhelming or humiliating, but don’t mistake his submissiveness for weakness—he’s doing this because he loves giving you the satisfaction of seeing him fall apart.

He loves the vulnerability, rawness, loves being worshiped and admired even when he’s being pushed past his limits and crying. The physical sensations can push him to his edge, but it’s the emotional aspect— like the whispered reassurances or reminders of how beautiful he is, or even the mean mocking comments about his pitiful state that makea hin spiral further into the rabbut hole —thats what make the tears finally spill. He’s not crying because he’s overwhelmed by pain; he’s crying because he feels so vulnerable and seen, because his body his going on overload with praise vs degradation, constant orgams vs feather-like touches that barely satisfy him...

-> Wooyoung:

Wooyoung would be all about it. He’s cocky, playful, and full of bravado, but there’s something about the idea of being taken down a peg, breaking his confident facade brick by brick, that secretly excites him. he thrives on the dynamic of being “too much” until he’s reduced to a gasping, teary-eyed mess. He’s a brat— he needs to feel like you’ve conquered him, that he can’t outsmart or outmaneuver you anymore, that’s when he gives in completely.

He’d never admit it outright but would definitely instigate things just to see how far you’d go to ruin him.

HOW OFTEN DO THEY LIKE/WANT THAT:

-> Seonghwa:

Seonghwa loves being ruined just enough to stay rare and special. It’s not every time you’re intimate, but when he craves it, he’ll give subtle cues—usually starting with his need to feel delicate and cherished but taken apart completely. Maybe once or twice a month, when he’s feeling particularly stressed or emotionally overwhelmed, he needs this emotional release.

-> Wooyoung:

Wooyoung’s frequency is the opposite of Seonghwa—he thrives on being ruined often, almost as if he craves the catharsis of breaking down. It could happen multiple times a week, depending on how much of a bratty mood he’s in. He actively pushes for it because he loves the release that comes with letting you completely overwhelm him.

WHAT TRIGGERS THIS MINDSET/SUB SPACE/STATE OF MIND:

-> Seonghwa:

• Seonghwa melts when you start by praising him. “You’re so perfect for me, aren’t you?” But when your words become teasing or slightly degrading—“So perfect, yet you’re still so needy, aren’t you, Hwa?”—it flips a switch in his mind. The sharp contrast makes his walls crumble.

• When you take a more gentle dominant side, slowly guide him to lay down, pinning his wrists above his head with just enough pressure to keep him still, he feels safe enough to let go. Whispering commands like, “Be good for me, Hwa. Don’t move unless I say so,” pushes him into that submissive mindset.

• Seonghwa is highly attuned to emotions, so creating an atmosphere where he feels cherished but helpless is key. Soft lighting, quiet praise, and tender touches combined with a few sharp words like, “Look at you, already trembling. You’re so easy to break, aren’t you?” make him teary-eyed with anticipation.

-> Wooyoung:

• Wooyoung loves when his playful defiance gets met with a stern response. A sharp tug on his wrists or a firm, “I warned you, didn’t I?” will send shivers down his spine. He’ll whine and squirm, but deep down, he loves being put in his place.

• Comments like, “Look at you, such a mess already. Are you even trying to behave?” make him pout, his cheeks red as tears start to flow. He thrives on the duality of feeling cherished and humiliated at the same time.

• Physically pinning him down. Like putting up with his attitude, force him to submit or listen to you and it immediately reaches a delicate switch in his mind that makes him want to crave it even more, crave your playfulness and strict side until he's completely undone.

DRABBLE ABOUT INITIATING THE SCENE/TRIGGER:

-> SEONGHWA: It starts slowly, the subtle shift in Seonghwa’s demeanor catching your attention early in the day. He’s unusually quiet, not in his typical composed way, but as if he’s distracted—his focus flitting from one task to another without his usual grace. When you reach out to adjust his collar before he heads into the other room, his breath catches for just a second, his lashes fluttering like he's been touch starved as your fingers brush against his neck. “Hwa,” you murmur, and he stiffens slightly, turning to look at you with wide, almost startled eyes. “Yes?” he asks quickly, his voice soft, almost too polite. You tilt your head, watching as he fidgets with the hem of his shirt, his lips pressing together in a tight line. He’s trying too hard to seem unaffected, but the flush rising to his cheeks betrays him. Throughout the day, you notice the little things. How he keeps glancing at you when he thinks you aren’t looking. How he works himself into exhaustion, taking on task after task as if to keep himself distracted. And most telling of all, how he avoids your touch—not out of rejection, but because it seems to overwhelm him. When you brush past him in the kitchen, your hand grazing his lower back affectionately, he shudders almost imperceptibly. His lips part like he’s about to say something, but instead, he busies himself wiping the counter for the third time in a row. “Babe, the counter’s already spotless,” you tease lightly. He freezes, his grip tightening on the cloth. “Just… making sure,” he mutters, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. By the time evening rolls around, he’s a mess of nervous energy. He’s sitting at the dining table, aimlessly scrolling on his phone, but you can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his foot bounces under the table. He’s chewing on his lower lip, a habit he rarely lets himself indulge in. You walk over and place a hand on his shoulder, feeling him stiffen under your touch. “Seonghwa,” you say softly, and his head snaps up, his wide eyes meeting yours. “Yes?” he says again, his voice barely above a whisper. “What’s wrong, Love?” you ask, your tone gentle but firm. He shakes his head quickly, lips parting like he wants to say something but can’t quite find the words. His cheeks are already dusted pink, and when you step closer, he leans toward you almost instinctively. “You’ve been quiet all day,” you murmur, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Is there something you need?” Seonghwa exhales shakily, his lashes fluttering as he closes his eyes. His jaw tightens and he puts down his phone like he’s trying to keep himself together, but the slight tremor in his hands gives him away.

“Oh, Hwa,” you say softly, cupping his cheek. His eyes snap open, and there it is—that gaze, raw and vulnerable, practically begging you to take control. You kneel down slightly so you’re at eye level with him, your hands settling gently on his thighs. His breath hitches at the contact, and you smile, leaning in just enough that your lips brush against his ear. “You always try so hard to be perfect, don’t you?” Seonghwa swallows hard, his hands clenching into fists on his lap. He doesn’t reply, but the way his body trembles under your touch says everything. “But tonight, Hwa… let me take you apart. Piece by piece.” His lips part as if to protest, but no sound comes out. The faint flush on his cheeks deepens, and his gaze drops, his dignity faltering under the weight of your words. “Look at me,” you say softly but firmly, tilting his chin up so he has no choice. His glossy eyes meet yours, and you see it clearly now—the unspoken need, the silent cry to be seen, broken, and put back together again. You let your thumb brush over his lower lip, and his breath stutters. “You don’t have to hold back, Sweetheart. Let me ruin you.” He shudders, a soft, almost inaudible whimper escaping his throat. He tries to scoff, but that scoff wouldn't convince anyone, not even himself. a weak attempt at masking how much he’s already unraveling, but the way his body leans into your touch and he holds into your hand betrays him. You guide him back by the hand towards and onto the bed, standing between his knees as he sits there, trembling, his composure slipping away. “Trust me,” you whisper, and those two words are all it takes for him to nod, his hands reaching out to cling to you as if you’re the only thing grounding him before the storm.

-> WOOYOUNG: Wooyoung is pacing the room, his footsteps deliberate and loud, almost like he’s daring you to say something. His arms are crossed over his chest, a pout on his lips as he glances at you from the corner of his eye. You know this game—he’s been like this all evening, poking at you with bratty comments, waiting for you to snap. Finally, you look up from what you’re doing, raising an eyebrow. “Is there something you need, Woo?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You’re so slow sometimes, you know that?” he mutters, loud enough for you to hear. He’s testing you, pushing you to the edge because he knows what’s waiting for him on the other side. You set your things aside, standing up and crossing the room slowly. “Excuse me?” you ask, your tone sharp enough to make him pause. Wooyoung stops in his tracks, his eyes darting to yours, but the grin tugging at his lips betrays him. “You heard me,” he says, his voice dripping with defiance. Before he can say another word, you’re getting up, crossing the room until you're in front of him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him flush against you nearly accidentally giving him whiplash. His grin falters, replaced by a sharp intake of breath. “You’ve been acting up all night,” you say, your voice low and firm. “Is this what you wanted?” He squirms in your grip to break free, but his cheeks are already flushing. “Maybe,” he mutters, his bravado slowly slipping. “Maybe?” you echo, tilting your head. You guide him backward, pressing him against the bed until he has no choice but to sit down. “No, no, Woo. Speak clearly. Is this what you wanted?” His defiance cracks just enough for him to mumble, “Yes.” You smirk, leaning in close enough that your lips almost brush his. “Good,” you whisper. “Because I’m going to ruin you for being such a brat.” Wooyoung’s eyes widen, his breath hitching as you push him onto his back. He squirms beneath you, his hands automatically reaching up to grab your wrists, but you pin them down with ease. “Let’s see how long you can keep that attitude,” you tease, your voice dripping with mockery. “Because by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be too busy crying to talk back.” His pout deepens, his bravado slipping further as you climb over him, straddling his hips. “You’re such a—” he starts, but the sharp tug of his wrists above his head silences him. “What was that?” you ask, feigning innocence as you lean down, your breath hot against his ear. “I didn’t hear you, baby.” Wooyoung squirms, his cheeks flushed, his defiance melting into anticipation. “Nothing,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. “That’s what I thought,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Now, be a good boy and take what’s coming to you.” And with that, you see the shift in his eyes—the realization that he’s completely at your mercy. The fight is still there, but it’s fading fast, replaced by the anticipation of being torn apart in the best possible way.

WHAT BRINGS THEM TO TEARS/FAV PLAYS:

-> Seonghwa:

• Praise as Destruction/degradation: Calling him beautiful while he’s trembling beneath your touch wrecks him. “You’re so perfect like this, Hwa. Falling apart for me—just gorgeous.” or things such as "Look at you, so pretty drooling and crying for me, so desperate, what are you even crying for? Hm? Pitiful mess." He’d turn his head away, trying to hide his face, but his shoulders would shake as the tears came anyway and his dick would twitch in your hands.

• Overstimulation: Gentle but relentless—light brushes of your fingertips over sensitive spots (like neck, thighs, waist, belly, etc), or long, slow strokes that don’t let him come down from the high he just reached. Or a restless vibrating toy stuck deep inside him or pressed against that just won't let him catch his breath and you definitely won't turn it off until the end of the scene. His voice would pitch higher, almost begging you to stop and continue at the same time.

• Holding Him Still/Bondage: Pinning his wrists down or tying them of to the headboard, Holding his legs apart with your body weight so he can’t squirm away or Soft ropes binding his thighs, so all he can do is feel and take everything you give, denying him the chance to hide or shield himself. Seonghwa loves the feeling of not being able to escape—it forces him to surrender completely.

• Temperature play: Ice cubes melting on his skin while your warm hands follow right after, or dripping hot wax on his most sensitive parts and massaging the oil all over his body while an ice cube melts somewhere on his skin, leaving him trembling between hot and cold, most of the time combined with blindfolds, not letting him know your next move to heighten every sensation.

-> Wooyoung:

• Teasing and Denial: Edging him over and over, pulling away just before he reaches his peak. “Not yet, Woo. You’ll have to earn it.” holding him right at the edge, over and over, until he’s sobbing in frustration. “Please, I can’t—just let me—” His words would crumble into gasps and whimpers as he tried (and failed) to stay composed, escalating to full on sobs and cries of frustration. Using your fingers or toys at a maddeningly slow pace, keeping him right on the edge but never enough.

• Degradation with a mocking Twist: Wooyoung thrives on being put in his place. “Is this the loud, cocky boy everyone loves? Look at you now, begging for me like this.” Whispering degrading teases in his ear: “Poor little thing, so desperate. Look at you, crying already?” He’d roll his eyes at first, trying to deflect, but the sheer intensity of it would leave him trembling and humiliated.

• Rough Play: Grabbing his jaw to make him look at you, pinning him against a surface, Tugging his hair just enough to make him arch and whimper, pulling soft pained moans from his lips, throwing him around like a ragdoll, Sharp slaps to his thighs or ass, making him gasp and jerk against you, leaving marks on his skin—it’s the raw physicality that gets him.

• Fake/Mocking sympathy/praise: Running your fingers down his cheek to catch a tear, then teasing “Aww, you look so cute when you cry. Should I make you cry more?” "Poor baby, you're crying, should I stop? Nah nevermind- you clearly don't want me to, do you?" Saying that maybe next time you'll let him cum after hearing him beg, not sure though, you're still considering it (spoiler alert, he won't cum)

• Bondage: He wants to pull up a fight, he wants to squirm and be pulled back in his place, escape just to be chased down all over again until he physically can't contradict you anymore.

HOW FAST DO THEY CRY/HOW THEY CRY:

-> Seonghwa:

Seonghwa’s tears aren’t immediate. He’s too composed, too in control of himself. It takes time and effort to reach the point where his cheeks are streaked with tears, but when you do? Oh, it’s devastatingly beautiful. It’s a slow burn, and that’s what makes it so satisfying.

Once he’s crying, he’s completely pliable—he’s yours to hold, soothe, or continue breaking down.

It’s a gradual build-up with explosive results. His lips would part in soft gasps, his eyes glossy but resisting. You’d see him start to crack—the way his thighs shake, the hitched breaths—and then he let's out a desperate loud cry or sob, the tears would fall immediately in long delicate streams until he's borderline crying and hiccuping. Eyes tightly shut closed or semi open while rolling back, eyebrows scrunched together and mouth slightly open in a lewd but beautiful way.

-> Wooyoung:

Wooyoung is a different beast entirely. Unlike Seonghwa’s gradual, controlled breakdown, Wooyoung starts tearing up the moment you get your hands on him— a fiery burst of emotions he can’t hold back, it's like he's already close to bursting a nut just from anticipation lmao. He’s raw, and that’s what makes his tears so captivating.

Wooyoung’s tears are silent at first—just a glossy sheen in his eyes as he bites his lip, trying to hold it together. The tears stream down his face, silent but constant, his mouth falling open in soft, broken whimpers. He tries to speak but can’t get the words out, his voice reduced to breathless gasps.

When he finally breaks, though? Oh boy, he got you slightly distressed to see him so pliant under your touch after literally pulling up a fight during the whole thing. It reaches the point where he can't talk back– he can't think of anything to do so, he can't physically fight– he's way too exhausted or way too needy to pull away from anything, he's actually more of a sucker for even the slightest stimulation in that state, because he know you won't give him what he wants so he might aswell just try to absorb and accept anything from you to bring him closer to his high.

GENERAL DRABBLE OF THEM BEING A COMPLETE CRYING MESS:

-> SEONGHWA: Seonghwa’s body trembled beneath you, the sheets soaked beneath his hips as he writhed, his chest heaving with every shuddering breath. His thighs, flushed and glistening, twitched uncontrollably as you pushed him toward yet another climax, despite the desperate whimpers spilling from his swollen lips.

“P-Please,” he hiccupped, his voice cracking under the weight of his sobs. His head tossed to the side, sweat-dampened hair clinging to his flushed face as tears slipped from the corners of his eyes. “I—I c-can’t—ahhh, I c-can’t anymore—”

“Oh, love,” you cooed, your voice dripping with a cruel kind of affection as you leaned in closer. “You’ve been saying that for the last three times. But look at you.”

Your hand still trailed and moved between his trembling thighs, earning a sharp, choked sob from him as his hips jolted helplessly. You smirked, dragging your thumb gently across the sensitive skin of his tip just to watch him squirm.

“Such a messy, pretty thing,” you continued, your tone soft but laced with teasing. “So wet, so perfect—you’re still giving me everything I want. You can take more, baby. You know you can.”

Seonghwa cried harder, biting down on his bottom lip as his back arched, his body giving in to you even as his mind teetered on the edge of overstimulation. You noticed the way his teeth dug into the plush skin of his lip, his sobs muffled and desperate.

“Ah, ah, none of that,” you murmured, brushing your thumb against his lip until he released it with a trembling gasp. A faint mark lingered where he’d bitten, his lips swollen and shining.

“Don’t ruin those pretty lips of yours,” you teased gently, though your thumb lingered, stroking the corner of his mouth as you tilted his chin up. “that's my job. Understand?”

Seonghwa nodded weakly, his teary gaze locking onto yours as fresh sobs shook his body. “Y-Yes,” he stammered, though the word was almost lost beneath his cries.

“Good boy,” you praised, your voice soft but deliberate. And just as he began to catch his breath, you upped the pace again, dragging him toward another peak.

Seonghwa’s head fell back with a broken wail, his body arching as his thighs tensed, and with one last, desperate sob, he shattered completely. His release spilled across his stomach, painting his skin in glistening streaks as his entire body convulsed with the force of his climax.

You didn’t stop of course—not when he looked this pretty crying. You let him ride it out, your hand brushing back the damp strands of hair sticking to his forehead as he sobbed and whimpered, his body trembling in the aftermath of... What? h his like- 5th orgasm in a row, ahah.

-> WOOYOUNG: Wooyoung was on the verge of losing his mind. His wrists, tied together and pinned above his head, flexed and strained as he tugged uselessly against the restraints. His cheeks were flushed a deep pink, streaked with silent tears that had been spilling freely for what felt like hours. “Please,” he begged, his voice breaking as he tried to shift his hips. “Please, just—just let me—fuck, I can’t take it anymore!” His frustration bubbled over, his body squirming beneath you as he tried to buck his hips, but you pressed him down firmly with a warning glare. “Don’t even think about acting up, Wooyoung,” you scolded, your tone sharp but teasing. “You’ve been begging so prettily this whole time—don’t ruin it now by getting bratty.” Wooyoung whined, his lip trembling as fresh tears spilled over. “I-I’m not—!” he protested, though his writhing didn’t stop. You sighed mockingly, grabbing one of his legs and lifting it to expose the curve of his rear. Before he could process the shift, the paddle in your hand came down with a sharp crack against his cheek. “Ah—ow!” Wooyoung yelped, his body jolting at the sudden sting. His teary eyes widened as he gasped, his voice trembling. “W-What was that—?” “Oh, you know what that was,” you smirked, trailing your fingers across the reddening mark before grabbing his other leg. “And since you’re so desperate to act out—” Before he could react, the paddle came down again, this time on his other cheek. The sound of the impact echoed through the room, followed by a sharp, broken whimper from Wooyoung as his head fell back against the pillows. “Such a dramatic little thing,” you cooed mockingly, watching as more tears spilled down his cheeks. “You act like you don’t love it when I put you in your place.” Wooyoung pouted through his tears, his lips trembling as he tried to catch his breath. The sting from the paddle lingered, a dull, burning warmth spreading across his skin. “I-I don’t,” he stammered weakly, though the way his thighs clenched together told a very different story. “Oh, is that so?” you teased, your fingers ghosting over the marks you’d left on his skin. “Then why are you still squirming like you want more?” Wooyoung whined, squeezing his eyes shut as he turned his head to the side, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Sh-Shut up,” he mumbled, though the tremble in his voice betrayed him entirely. “Such a brat,” you murmured, leaning down to kiss the corner of his lips. “But you’re my brat, aren’t you?” Wooyoung’s breath hitched, his tears still running freely as he nodded, his lips trembling with the force of his emotions. “Y-Yes,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “That’s what I thought,” you smirked, resuming your torment as Wooyoung’s sobs melted into helpless moans, his body completely at your mercy.

NEED COMFORT DURING IT VS NO MERCY:

-> Seonghwa:

Seonghwa is someone who craves balance. His crying comes from a place of deep emotional release and while he loves being overwhelmed and utterly undone, he reaches a threshold where comfort becomes essential. Without it he’d start to emotionally spiral rather than staying in that sweet spot of pleasurable vulnerability.

Seonghwa associates crying with trust and intimacy, after all its his most vulnerable state, literally. When you pause to cradle his face, press soft kisses to his temple, or whisper soothing words, etc, it reassures him that he’s not just a toy to you—it’s a reaffirmation of your care like I'm ruining you because I love you type, he's not being ruined by pure sadistic intentions–He just looks so pretty when crying that you both thrive on it.

He’s more fragile than he shows though. Again, If you push too hard without offering momentary comfort, his sobs might turn into something too raw, bordering on genuine distress rather than euphoric vulnerability. So always pay attention to his tone and squirming, if he's not just squirming but also trying to grip the air he probably wants your hand for comfort, etc.

Also he LOVES the emotional whiplash—being momentarily comforted, only to get overwhelmed again, polar opposites, it makes the experience richer and more intense.

-> Wooyoung:

AGAIN, Wooyoung is a different beast entirely. For him, the denial of comfort is part of the thrill. He doesn’t just tolerate being pushed—he thrives on it. Mercy and comfort mid-play would feel like a betrayal of his trust in you to push him to the edge, like you really think he can't take it? You don't trust him enough, don't know that in the worst case he'll make it clear if you really crossed boundaries? If he's here to be ruined, then do it 'til the end!!!

He’s addicted to the intensity of being completely unraveled. Crying isn’t a sign of weakness for him—it’s a badge of honor, proof that you’ve driven him to his limit, and he finds it really exciting to cry, kind of self humiliation? He knows he probably looks so undone and omg, just the thought of having you stare at him like that arouses him.

Throwing comfort in the middle would almost totally break the momentum for him. He loves the feeling of being utterly helpless, knowing there’s no reprieve until you decide he’s earned it, you grant him his wishes and satisfy him with the release he's been begging for. Only after that he'll want your comfort.

Though, when you're done he craves– NEEDS the reassurance of comfort but only at the end, as a reward for enduring everything you put him through. He'll probably be dramatic, wanting those cuddles and kisses and all the pampering, which is pretty fair after all he endured.

DRABBLE ABOUT COMFORT/NO COMFORT:

-> SEONGHWA: Seonghwa was already a wreck, his soft, pretty cries growing into full, heaving sobs. His body trembled beneath you, thighs twitching as you dragged him through yet another peak, despite the way his broken voice cracked into incoherent pleas. Hes cum so many times that he can't even tell where pleasure ends and pain begins. His wrists are tied to the headboard, and he’s yanking against the bonds, the satin biting into his delicate skin as he sobs and squirm uncontrollably, desperate for something to hold on to, trying to grasp anything— you being his only anchor. “H-Haahh, p-please,” he choked out, his voice trembling as hard as his body. His flushed face was streaked with tears, lips swollen from biting down to muffle his cries earlier, but now? Now, he couldn’t even try to hold back. You could see it—the way his sobs became less coherent, his fingers flexing helplessly against the fabric restraining him. And for a moment you felt bad, you slowed your movements, just enough to keep the stimulation steady without overwhelming him further. “Seonghwa,” you murmured softly, leaning over him, Your hand cups his tear-streaked cheek, and he flinches at first, startled by the contact, before leaning into your palm as though it’s the lifeline he’s been searching for. You slide your other hand up, gently interlocking your fingers with his trembling ones, giving him something solid to hold onto, to feel grounded. “Shh, I’ve got you, love. You’re okay. You’re safe with me.” The moment your hand touched his and he squeezed it in desperation, Seonghwa broke even further. He let out a loud sob, but it soon softened as he leaned into your palm to calm dowm, his cheek nuzzling against it like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. His tied hand squeezed yours as much as it could, his trembling fingers gripping onto you like he’d fall apart if he let go. “I-I can’t—” he hiccuped, though his body betrayed him, arching into your touch as you continued to tease him into another high. “I c-can’t, but don’t—don’t stop,” he sobbed, his words breaking apart as fresh tears spilled down his cheeks. You leaned in closer, pressing a soft kiss to his temple, then another to his damp cheek. “I love you,” you murmur against his temple, peppering his tear-soaked face with gentle kisses. “So beautiful like this, so perfect. Just hold onto me, okay?” Seonghwa nodded frantically, his sobs quieting just enough to let him catch his breath. He tilted his head, lips brushing sloppily against your jawline as if trying to kiss you back, his tears smearing onto your skin. You grant him his silent wish, turning your head and lightly kissing the corner of his mouth again and again, his cries turning into soft relieved sighs, though he was still whimpering into the kisses from the constant stimulation. “P-Please, keep going,” he stammered through his cries. “Just— Stay like this a bit longer.” Your heart ached at the sight of him, completely undone yet still so eager. You smiled softly, stroking his cheek with your thumb and pulling back just enough to meet his glassy gaze. “Are you sure, love? We can stop if you need me to.” Seonghwa shook his head desperately, his eyes pleading even as they brimmed with more tears. “N-No,” he hiccuped, his voice cracking once again. “Don’t stop—please, don’t stop. I—I want this. I need you.” His chest heaves, and he lets out a broken sob, his fingers tightening around yours as if afraid you'll let go too soon. Such a beautiful sigh you couldn't ignore, he's falling apart— no, he's fallen apart in your arms, and despite being the cause of it, you're also the only one that can build him up again. You kiss him one more time, deeper, and he melts into it, his tears slipping between your lips. When you finally pull back, he looks up at you with glassy, swollen eyes, still crying but so full of love and trust that it nearly breaks you. With that you resumed your loving torture towards another orgasm, still holding his trembling hand in yours as his sobs turned into broken whimpers of your name

-> WOOYOUNG: Wooyoung was a mess. His chest heaved as he gasped for air, tears streaking his flushed cheeks as he squirmed beneath you. His voice was hoarse from begging, his pleas growing more frantic with every passing second. “Please,” he rasped, tears spilling as he tilted his head back, baring his throat in desperation. “I—I can’t—please, just give me a break, just a little—” But the second you leaned down, brushing your lips close to his ear and murmuring, “Oh, honey, you don’t actually think I’m going to let you stop, do you?” a visible shiver ran through his body. Wooyoung’s breath hitched, and he shook his head frantically, though his lips parted to let out a helpless whimper. “N-No,” he stammered, his hands clenching into the sheets beneath him. “You don’t deserve a break,” you continued, your tone low and teasing, a wicked smile tugging at your lips. “Look at you—such a pretty boy, begging and crying for me like a pathetic bitch. This is exactly where you belong.” His head fell back onto the pillows, a fresh wave of tears slipping down his cheeks as a broken sob escaped him. He wanted to argue, to protest, but the way his body arched into your touch betrayed him completely. Deep down, he didn’t want you to stop—he wanted you to break him entirely, to keep him teetering on that edge until he couldn’t take it anymore. When he tried to beg again, his voice faltered into a strangled moan, his head shaking as he sobbed, “I-I can’t, I c-can’t—” “Oh, but you can,” you purred, forcefully cupping his jaw with your fingers and forcing him to meet your gaze. His lips trembled as he cried harder, his body writhing under your control. “And you will. You’re too good for me to stop now.” By the time you finally pushed him past his limit, Wooyoung was completely wrecked, his body trembling as silent tears streamed down his face. He barely had the strength to speak, but the way his glassy eyes fluttered open to find yours and his mouth stayed open gasping said everything. Finally when the whole scene was done, you softened, leaning down to press a tender kiss to his forehead. “You did so well for me, baby,” you whispered, stroking his damp hair. “I’m so proud of you.” Wooyoung’s breath hitched again, though this time it wasn’t from denial or frustration—it was from the overwhelming comfort of your touch. He melted into you, his tears slowing as you held him close, whispering soft reassurances until his trembling eased. “Thank you,” he mumbled hoarsely, his voice cracking slightly as he buried his face in your neck. “Thank you.” (we'll go deeper into aftercare later)

AFTERCARE & WHAT THEY NEED:

-> Seonghwa:

Seonghwa is emotionally raw after an intense session like this. Crying takes a lot out of him, not just physically but emotionally, so his aftercare focuses on soothing his heightened sensory sensitivity and grounding him back in safety and love so he can calm down

His tears slow but might not stop immediately—there are soft hiccups, sighs and sniffles as he processes everything.

• He goes quiet, almost mute, occasionally whispering “thank you” or “I love you” between breaths but otherwise letting you guide him and he'll go silent for most of it, so don't expect him to respond vocally.

• As weird as it might seem for our food lover hwa... he prefers water + sugar/really light snacks rather than a whole meal or heavier snacks, he doesn't really feels like doing anything after an intense scene, just quiet and calm. But once he's recovered, maybe taken a nap, omg, he wants to eat and stuff his tummy full of delicious food to fully get his energy back.

• Clean!!! 👏Him!!! 👏Seonghwa doesn't like to feel messy post-scene, cleaning him up slowly and with care reinforces that he’s being taken care of and makes him feel respected. If he's not THAAT exhausted he'd appreciate you carry him to a quick refreshing shower, but if the scene was particularly intense or long he'd prefer you to clean him up with a warm damp cloth.

• He needs quiet and calm. He’ll want to be cuddled in a quiet, dimly lit environment. The overstimulation leaves him craving calm, safe surroundings and he gets really sleepy after that, so he'll always take a small nap, and wants you to hold him through it or just be with him, we'll go into details in a sec ↓↓

• Seonghwa needs to be held close, spoken to softly, and reassured that everything is okay and your proud of him. Gentle words of love and comfort are essential to ease any lingering vulnerability. He clings to you, seeking reassurance through physical closeness because it doesn't require him to talk or vocalise anything. He might press his face against your chest or hold onto your hand tightly and not let you go until he drifts off to sleep, he thrives on soft grounding touches—hand holding, stroking his hair, or rubbing small circles on his back. These gestures help him reconnect and relax fully.

-> Wooyoung:

Wooyoung hides his emotional vulnerability behind a playful or defiant exterior, but after something so intense he’s much softer and more open during aftercare. While Seonghwa is emotionally raw, Wooyoung is more physically overstimulated and needs grounding to ease his "crash" and feel like he's back to normal again even after all this crying, etc.

His tears dry quickly, but his cheeks, eyes and nose stay flushed, and he might sniffle a little as he recovers.

• Wooyoung craves touch to help him feel grounded and normal. He loves cuddling, especially if it feels cozy and playful—like wrapping him up snugly in a blanket or holding him tightly as you strock his back or exchange kisses while lightheartedly mocking and talking about the intense experience. Details ↓↓

• He thrives on light teasing during aftercare. Praise mixed with playful banter helps him feel loved and returns him to his confident self. Wooyoung starts with light whining or complaining for attention “You’re so mean, look at me, I’m ruined!” but this quickly turns into affectionate playfull clinging and try to make you laugh or tease you as a way of feeling more normal again, but he still soaks up every bit of care you give him 'cause despite being playful, he needs reminders that it’s okay to have been so vulnerable and that it was also enjoyable for you too. Soft affirmations about how much you adore him or how good he did helps him feel emotionally balanced and gets him all giggly and cooky about it.

• Polar opposite of Hwa, Prefers water + big snacks or even a meal than something lighter. He really wants to be pampered and back to normal as soon as possible– both physically and emotionally, he also wants to eat with you maybe while watching a movie or episode of a serie. Crying and intense physical effort leave him parched and famished so he’ll act dramatic about it "You almost killed me! I need at least five chocolate bars and a big bowl of soup now!!" But he's grateful to have you look after him.

• Since I mentioned watching something while eating, I really feel like he might get sleepy but not in the mood to sleep or nap, he really just craves that cozy calm/intimate and casual feeling of snuggling up in your arms, warm blanket, sharing snacks or a warm meal while watching something on the TV or laptop like it's a normal friday night. But it isn't uncommon for you to notice he's been way too quiet, look down and see him sleeping on you because the exhaustion caught up to him midway through it.

• He doesn't really care about being messy– though he doesn't want any excessive sticky fuids between y'all, Cleaning him up gently but efficiently keeps him from feeling uncomfortable in his messy state, like a simple warm cloth is enough to take away any extra mess– a bit of sweat on his skin is the least of his worries at that moment. Though, of its summer or a particularly hot day he really loves to take a fresh shower with you, it's like the movie/serie thing, it's casual and intimate, allows you to bound together while handling all the mess + the hot day, double kill I'd say. You'll have to drag him out of there because he's having way too much fun playing with you in the water to get out.

AFTERCARE DRABBLE:

-> SEONGHWA: Seonghwa was utterly spent, his body trembling as he lay limply against the damp sheets, his cheeks stained with the tracks of his tears. His wrists, still loosely tied to the headboard, twitched slightly with each sob coming out of his chest, as if even the slightest movement took all the strength he had left. You moved immediately, your demeanor soft and soothing as you leaned over him, pressing a feather-light kiss to his damp temple. “Shh, baby,” you murmured, your voice low and full of warmth. “We’re all done now. You did so well for me—so, so well.” Seonghwa hiccupped softly, his teary eyes fluttering open to meet yours. He looked fragile, vulnerable in a way that made your chest ache with love and admiration. Such a pretty boy, full of trust and fully exposed for you to look after and pamper. Slowly, you reached up, untying the restraints and letting his wrists fall free. “There we go,” you whispered, carefully massaging his wrists and adding some lotion to ease the stiffness. “No more of that, hm? Just relax for me.” Seonghwa let out a shaky breath, his fingers weakly grasping at yours as if afraid to let you go. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze before leaning down to brush the damp hair away from his forehead, your lips grazing his skin in a tender kiss. “You’re okay,” you assured him, your thumb brushing along his cheek to wipe away the lingering tears. “Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart.” With the utmost care, you slipped an arm under his shoulders, helping him sit up just enough to drink a small glass of water you’d prepared beforehand. He drank greedily, the cool liquid soothing his throat after all his crying. “Good boy,” you praised softly, wiping a stray droplet from his lips before offering him a small piece of chocolate. “Here—this’ll help you feel better.” Seonghwa accepted it without hesitation, his trembling fingers brushing yours as he brought it to his mouth, going back to reach your hand and hold it with his after. As he chewed and melted it slowly, you reached for a warm, damp cloth, gently cleaning the mess from his thighs and stomach, taking extra care to avoid overstimulating him further each time his eyes squeezed slightly shut at the sensation. “You’re so perfect,” you murmured, pressing soft kisses to his thighs as you worked. “Such a pretty boy for me, Hwa.” When the cleanup was finished, you changed the sheets swiftly, tucking him into fresh, cool linens before crawling into bed beside him. Seonghwa immediately curled into your side, his face pressed against your chest as his arms wrapped weakly around your waist and he held one of your hands. “Love you,” he murmured followed by a relaxed sigh, his voice thick with exhaustion but full of sincerity. “I love you too,” you whispered, your fingers tracing soothing patterns along his back. “Get some rest, baby. I’ve got you.” And as his breathing slowed and evened out, you pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head, holding him close as sleep claimed him for a well deserved rest.

-> WOOYOUNG: Wooyoung was sprawled across the bed, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His cheeks were still flushed, streaked with dried tears, and his wrists, still tied together, rested limply against his stomach, going slightly up and down as he panted. You couldn’t help but smile softly at the sight of him, utterly wrecked but still so endearing. “You look like a complete mess,” you teased gently, running a hand through his damp hair. Wooyoung let out a weak whine, his lips twitching into the faintest pout. “Your fault,” he mumbled, though his voice was barely audible. “Hmm, maybe,” you replied playfully, leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose. “But you loved it, didn’t you?” Wooyoung huffed, turning his head away in mock defiance, but the faint smile tugging at his lips gave him away. You chuckled softly, reaching up to untie his wrists and gently massage them. “There,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to each wrist where the faint marks lightered . “Better?” Wooyoung nodded weakly, his fingers twitching as if trying to grab hold of you. You took his hands in yours, squeezing them gently before brushing your thumb across his knuckles and adding a few kisses. “Let’s get you cleaned up, love,” you said softly, grabbing a glass of water from the bedside table. “Drink this for me, I'll get you the snacks when we cuddle.” Wooyoung obediently took a sip, his gaze fixed on yours as if seeking reassurance or trying to read your mind. You smiled warmly, brushing your fingers through his hair as you held the glass for him. “Good boy,” you praised playfully, watching as a faint blush spread across his cheeks again, “Now, let’s get rid of all this mess you made, tch tch.” With a warm, damp cloth, you carefully cleaned the tear-streaked lines on his face, mixing playful kisses and caresses before moving to wipe down his thighs and stomach. Wooyoung squirmed slightly at the touch, his lips parting in a soft sigh and whines as you worked. “Stop squirming,” you teased lightly, pressing a kiss to his hip. “I’m trying to take care of you.” Wooyoung let out a breathy chuckle, his eyes fluttering shut as he finally relaxed. Once he was clean, you pulled him into your arms, cradling him against your chest as you tucked the blankets around both of you. “You’re so mean,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your shoulder. “Mean?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Says the one who was begging for no mercy not even ten minutes ago.” Wooyoung let out a weak laugh, his arms wrapping around your waist as he buried his face in your neck, pressing a playfull kiss there “Shut up,” he muttered, though the smile on his lips was unmistakable. You smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead as you held him close. “I love you, Woo,” you whispered, your voice full of warmth. “I love you too,” he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion.

"P-please...please!"

A small chuckle escapes you, nearly drowned out by the electric buzzing coming from the vibrator you're currently pressing against your boyfriend's cock. He looks like a damn dream, lithe body trembling, hands gripping the sheets below him so tightly that his knuckles are white...and that gorgeous satin blindfold wrapped around his eyes.

"You've only cum twice, baby. You know our rule," You hum, your hand wrapping around the base of his length, moving the vibrator up to his angry red and leaking tip. He cries out, his abs tensing at the almost unbearable pleasure coursing through him. "You have to cum at least five times."

His face twists up, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead as he frantically shakes his head. "I c-can't...nngh...p-p-please!" He cries out, although his hips betray him as he tries to buck into your hand.

"Shh, yes you can, angel. Mommy's right here to take care of her sweet boy. Just three more and then we can stop."

The sight of his painfully hard dick standing taut against his lower abdomen is always so beautiful to you, and sometimes you wish you could have it etched into your eyelids. The feeling of his cock twitching and leaking all over your hand might serve as competition though.

"Fuck, f-fuck!" His voice comes out in a whine, his entire body writhing as the third orgasm rips through him. His cum coats your entire hand, making a small moan escape you. "M-mommy please..." He whimpers, one of his hands letting go of the sheets and blindly reaching out for you - a rule he's not allowed to break, but it's obvious that he's more overwhelmed than usual, so you intertwine your hand with his to remind him that you're there.

"I'm here, angel, I'm here." You say sweetly, but his grip only tightens on your hand.

"I-I need it...o-off! Nngh- ah! Please...p-please!"

You're confused for a moment before realizing that he's talking about the blindfold, a loud whimper escaping him at the painful overstimulation from the vibrator still buzzing against his tip. You don't want to push him too far since the aftermath is never fun for either of you, so you remove your hand from his length and reach up to carefully pull the satin material off from around his head, though your breath gets caught in your throat as your eyes meet his.

Gorgeous, sparkling tears have welled in his wide eyes, now slipping down his flushed cheeks. His swollen lips are parted, desperate pants escaping him as he tries to fight off his fourth orgasm. He looks ethereal.

"You're so pretty when you cry..." You murmur, removing your hand from his so your thumb could gently grace the side of his face, eliciting the sweetest sounding moan from him at your mere touch.

His eyes squeeze shut, wet lashes sticking to his soft skin as the tears continue to paint his cheeks. His hips buck yet again, his eyes opening to find yours.

The sound of his whiny, raspy cries almost puts you into a damn trance, but his words are quick to keep you grounded. "I- ah~! I n-need your...fingers." He desperately tries to bring your hand up to his mouth. "F-f-fingers, please."

Normally you're in full control over him, but in times like this, you can't help but give him what he wants. Besides, he sounds beautiful when he begs.

"Open up then, baby, they're right here." Your voice makes him whimper yet again, mouth falling open as you slip two cum covered fingers inside, his plush lips closing around them. It makes sense why he needed them as his fourth orgasm washes over him the moment your fingertips are meeting his tongue. "That's my good boy...fuck, you sound amazing." A groan escapes you as his body trembles and shakes, his eyes nearly rolling back into his head at the now painful pleasure, but he loves it so much.

He begins to cry harder, tears wetting his sweaty neck, his tongue working on your fingers like they're the sweetest lollipop he's ever sucked on. He can taste his cum that was coating your fingers, his cock twitching as a result. He's completely overwhelmed, not knowing what to do with himself as he helplessly sucks on your digits and cries.

"One more for me, Hwa. Be my little angel and cum for me one last time." You coo, knowing that he needs the extra support to push him over the edge.

He's desperately pulling your fingers from his mouth as your words help his fifth and final orgasm slam into him, his cum shooting up and coating his stomach. "Mommy!" He cries, body falling forward into yours as he shakes, his muscles aching with the strength of the pleasure coursing through him.

You only leave the vibrator long enough to help him ride out his high before quickly turning it off and tossing it aside, gathering him into your arms. "Shh, take deep breaths...you did so good for me, baby." You whisper, one of your hands soothing over his hair.

His entire body is trembling, cock numb, hair damp, and tears still streaming down his face, but he wouldn't want to be anywhere else or with anyone else in this moment. "I love you." He whimpers out, hands weakly rubbing your back as he grounds himself.

A small smile appears on your face as you turn to press a feather light kiss against his temple. "I love you too, Hwa."

Once he's completely back on earth, you whisk him away for a calming bath, and if anyone were to see you two whispering sweet words, tangled in each other's arms beneath the warm water, they wouldn't have the slightest clue that he was a shaking mess for you only minutes ago.

Seonghwa sat cross-legged on the couch, scrolling through his phone as you plopped down beside him with a mischievous grin. He looked up at you, raising a curious brow.

"What’s with that look?" he asked, his voice soft but slightly curious.

"Oh, nothing," you replied, leaning closer, resting your chin on your hand. "Just admiring how good you look right now."

His cheeks turned pink instantly, and he ducked his head to hide the small smile creeping across his lips. "Stop it," he mumbled with a chuckle, pretending to focus on his phone again.

You weren’t about to let it go. "No, seriously, Baby. That sweater? It’s hugging you in all the right ways. And your hair? You look like you just stepped out of a photoshoot."

He let out a soft, nervous laugh, his free hand moving to cover his face. "Yah, don’t say things like that…"

"But it’s true! And don’t get me started on your lips and nose. They're so kissable It’s unfair, really, how you manage to be this attractive all the time."

Seonghwa squirmed slightly, shifting his legs as a visible flush spread from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. His phone slipped from his hand onto the couch as he struggled to think of what to say. "You’re just saying that," he whispered, voice shaky, eyes darting away from yours.

You leaned in closer, loving how he was unraveling. "I’m not just saying it, Hwa. I mean it. You’re stunning. Gorgeous. Breathtaking. I can’t take my eyes off you."

His breath hitched, and he fidgeted again, his hands moving nervously to his lap. That’s when you noticed it, a telltale twitch, a shift, the slight tension in the way his legs pressed together to hide the bulge.

"Seonghwa," you teased, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. "Are you getting all worked up just from me complimenting you?"

His eyes widened in panic, and he immediately shook his head, stumbling over his words. "N-no! I’m not— I mean—"

You reached out, gently brushing his arm. "It’s okay," you reassured him, your tone softening. "You’re so cute when you get shy like this. It’s adorable how much you love being praised."

He groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I can’t help it," he admitted, his voice muffled. "You just… you say things, and it… does things to me."

Smiling, you slid closer, your hand resting lightly on his thigh. "Does things, huh? Should I stop?"

He shook his head almost immediately, peeking at you through his fingers. "Don’t stop," he whispered, barely audible but entirely honest.

"Good," you murmured, your fingers tracing small circles on his leg. "Because I’ve only just started."

You couldn’t help but grin at how flustered Seonghwa was becoming. His nervous fidgeting, the way his cheeks burned, and the way he couldn’t meet your eyes—it was all too endearing.

Your hand, still resting on his thigh, gave a gentle squeeze. "Sweetheart," you whispered, leaning closer so your breath ghosted against his ear. "You’re so sensitive. It’s honestly the cutest thing."

He let out a soft whimper, his head falling back against the couch as he squeezed his eyes shut. "Y-you can’t just say stuff like that…"

"Oh, but I can," you teased, your fingers beginning to glide higher along his leg. "And I will. Because you’re just so perfect Love. Every little reaction, every sound you make—it’s all so precious."

His lips parted as he let out a shaky breath, his body instinctively leaning into your touch. "You’re… unfair," he mumbled, though the way his hips shifted gave him away completely.

"Am I?" you asked innocently, your hand now dangerously close to the growing bulge in his lap. "I think you love it when I tell you how gorgeous you are. How irresistible."

He whimpered again, his hands gripping the couch cushions as though to anchor himself. "I… I do," he admitted softly, his voice trembling with need.

"Good," you murmured, finally letting your hand brush over his arousal through his pants. The reaction was immediate—his hips bucked slightly, and a broken moan escaped his lips.

"You’re so hard already," you cooed, stroking him gently over the fabric. "Is this all from me, baby? From the way I’ve been praising you?"

He nodded quickly, his breaths coming in shallow pants. "Y-yes… all because of you."

"Poor thing," you said, your tone dripping with mock sympathy. "You really can’t help it, can you? You love being praised so much it gets you all worked up."

Seonghwa whined, his hands flying up to cover his flushed face. "I hate you," he muttered jokingly, though the needy tone in his voice betrayed his words.

You chuckled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his temple. "No, you don’t," you whispered, your fingers deftly undoing the button and zipper of his pants. "You love me. And you love how much I adore you."

His hips lifted instinctively as you slipped your hand into his boxers, finally wrapping around his length. He gasped, his hands dropping to grip your shoulder and wrist instead, as though he needed something—anything—to ground him.

"Look at you," you murmured, stroking him slowly. "You’re so beautiful like this, Hwa. Falling apart just from my touch. You’re perfect."

His head fell back again, his lips parting as a string of soft, breathy moans spilled out. "Please," he whispered, his voice desperate. "Don’t stop… need you."

"Don’t worry," you said, quickening your pace just slightly. "I’ll take care of you, baby. You’ve been so good for me, letting me praise you like this."

He shuddered, his grip on your shoulders tightening. "Please… please keep talking," he begged, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Anything for you," you replied, your lips brushing against his ear. "You’re so perfect, Seonghwa. So sensitive, so responsive. I could do this to you all day, and you’d let me, wouldn’t you? My beautiful boy."

His entire body trembled at your words, and he let out a choked moan. "I can’t… I’m gonna—"

"That’s it," you urged softly. "Let go for me, baby. Show me how much you love it."

With a final, shaky cry of your name, he fell apart completely, his body arching as waves of pleasure overtook him. You held him through it, stroking him gently as he rode out his high, your other hand softly brushing his hair.

As he came down, his body relaxed against yours, his breathing ragged but gradually evening out. He hid his face in your neck, mumbling something incoherent but undeniably affectionate.

"You okay, baby?" you asked, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

He nodded weakly, his arms wrapping around you in a loose hug. "You’re… evil," he murmured, though his tone was laced with contentment.

You laughed softly, holding him close. "And you love it."

"I do," he admitted, his voice muffled against your skin. "Too much."

"Good," you whispered, smiling to yourself. "Because I’m not done telling you how perfect you are."

"It feels -- weird," Yunho whimpers as threw his head back, laying it on your shoulder. "A-And it kind of hurts…"

"Well, it's your first time." You chuckle. "And I'm trying to be gentle! But it's hard to move my fingers when you're squeezing them! We might run out of lube if you keep doing that-"

"Can you not say embarrassing things like that when your fingers are literally inside of my ass?!" Yunho hisses, his cheeks reddening as he tightens his grip on the bedsheets. His eyes are squeezed shut, and beads of sweat form at his temples. The room is filled with the sound of your labored breathing and the faint squeaks of the bedframe under the two of you.

"Fine! But, with the way your dick is twitching, I can only assume you like it~," you tease, pushing your fingers deeper inside of him, causing him to whine. Yunho's body tenses up momentarily before he relaxes with a deep sigh. The sensation is foreign but not entirely unpleasant. He's been curious about this for a while now, especially after all the things he's read and watched in secret. But the reality of it is so much more intense than his imagination could ever conjure.

"Fuck," he gasps. "I-I'm starting to-"

"Feel good?" you whisper, your breath tickling the shell of his ear. The scent of vanilla and sweat fills the room, a heady combination that somehow seems right in this moment of shared intimacy. Yunho nods, his hips involuntarily rocking back to meet your slow, careful thrusts. His body is a landscape of curves and tension, each movement a revelation of the pleasure you're bringing him.

"I could tell," you giggle in his ear. "Your hole is twitching like crazy. You like how my fingers feel, don't you?"

He nods once again. "H-How can this feel so good-?!"

"How do you think I feel when you finger me?" You laugh. "It's like your body is trying to swallow me whole, so tight and warm." Yunho's breath hitches, his eyes flying open. The burn is intense, but he's starting to get used to the fullness. His hips begin to rock more confidently, setting a rhythm that matches the pulsing of his heart.

"Now how about…" you mumble, your fingers now moving with purpose as if looking for something. "Here?"

"Huh? Wha-- AH!" His back arched immediately. Your fingers were rubbing against his prostate. The sensation was like nothing he'd ever felt before, and it was as if every nerve ending in his body had just been electrified.

"O-Oh fuck, fuck--! W-What--"

"It feels good?" you smile against his ear. "Yeah, I kept watching those prostate massage videos to figure out how to do this."

"O-Oh my god, Y/N…!" Yunho gasps, his body trembling as you continue to stroke that sensitive spot inside him. His eyes widen and his breaths come in quick pants. You can feel his muscles clench around your fingers, the intensity of his reactions making your own arousal spike.

"You like when I touch that spot, hm?" You smile. "Are you gonna cum?"

"I-I'm so -- I'm close! R-Really close!" He shudders, grinding his hips down on your fingers. "D-Don't stop! Please!" His voice is desperate, the sound of his need echoing off the walls.

"Good boy," you whisper. Yunho gripped the sheets as tightly as he could, his cock leaking precum onto the bed. You felt his insides tightening around your fingers, his breath hitching in a way that told you he was on the edge. You leaned in closer, your other hand reaching up to gently trace the line of his jaw, the stubble prickling your fingertips as you turned his face towards yours. "Look at me," you ordered softly.

His eyes stayed open only for a moment before shutting once again, the volume of his moans spiking. His back arches and his jaw is hung, hands gripping the bed sheets. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna-!"

You press your lips against his, his hand rushing to grab your arm. The kiss is frantic, matching the rhythm of your fingers inside him. His tongue slips out, and you take it into your mouth, sucking gently as you keep the pressure on his prostate.

Cum spurted from his tip, painting the sheets in a warm, sticky mess as he releases himself into your hand. You keep fingering him through it, savoring the feeling of his hot, pulsing cock as he shudders and gasps against you. The smell of sex fills the room, a potent blend of arousal and satisfaction.

He lets out muffled moans, pulling away from your mouth and throwing his head back again, a weird feeling crawling up his body. From head to toe, his body trembled. It felt like you were forcing the cum out of him, each spurt making him squirm. You feel his ass tighten around your fingers, and you keep up the rhythm, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. His moans turn into whimpers, his body a tightly wound coil ready to spring.