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summary: yangyang is a pervert, always looking for any chance to satisfy his dirtiest desires — but he didn’t expect you were on your way to catch him...
warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), language, masturbation, fingering, oral sex, use of camera/recording during sexual act, dirty talk, praise kink, light degradation, consent implied but not extensively discussed, semi-public implications (camera), soft dom!yangyang, submissive reader moments, mention of fluids, NSFW themes — minors do not interact.
wc: 4,23K
notes: i had this fic in my drafts for a while, but i hadn't finished it. however, i spent the weekend with my boyfriend and didn’t have a chance to continue it, but i’m back now, and here it is😁🫶🏻🔥🩷
yangyang had stayed home that weekend while his friends were out—partying, on dates, or god knows where. he preferred the solitude, the silence of his dark room, the soft hum of his computer screen lighting up his face.
he felt hot. needy. it had been a while since he was this alone—and just the thought of it turned him on even more.
his fingers slowly traced the growing bulge between his thighs while his right hand worked the mouse with precision, scrolling through adult sites, searching for the video that would finally ease the burning tension in his gut.
he freed his erection with a simple pull—pants pushed down to his hips, shirt hiked up just enough.
he started slow, stroking his length up and down. small, breathy moans escaped his lips. he didn’t even bother muting the video; he wanted to hear the actress’ high-pitched whimpers fill the room. leaning back into his chair, he picked up the pace. all he could focus on was the girl’s bouncing breasts and the filthy wet sound of skin slapping against skin as she was pounded from behind.
it felt too good.
he did this almost every night, but tonight... tonight felt different. something about the loneliness, the silence—it made everything more intense.
the video ended, but yangyang wasn’t done. not even close. he clicked through the suggested videos, impatient, and chose another.
his head tipped back as he groaned, completely lost in the heat, the lust curling tight in his stomach, the climax building slowly—deliciously.
he was so close.
until a notification blinked on his screen.
it was a message from you.
“do you have the photos yet?”
ah. the photos.
yangyang had helped you with a photoshoot for your instagram feed a few days ago. nothing serious—just a few soft shots, sweet poses, and since he had a professional camera, it made sense to ask him. all he had to do was connect the camera, transfer the files, do a light edit, and send them over.
like the multitasker he was, he left the video playing, stood up, still hard and hanging, and rummaged through the desk drawer for the camera. with quick hands, he plugged it in. one hand editing your photos, the other wrapped tightly around his cock, pumping with more urgency now. wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through him, curses and moans slipping past his lips.
the filthy background noise filled the room—moans, wet smacks, filthy talk.
but his eyes?
his eyes were on you.
on the screen, your soft smile, the way you posed so innocently.
then—another message popped up.
“i’m like three minutes away from your house, lol. gonna stop by to see the pics.”
but yangyang didn’t read it.
lust had swallowed his mind whole. he kept editing. kept jerking. faster. harder. he was almost there, his release right on the edge of his tongue. breath shaky. fingers quick.
until the door burst open.
“hey, yang—!”
white lines shot across his stomach.
his body jerked, muscles tense, panting hard. he turned his head.
and there you were.
frozen.
a hand still on the doorknob, face lit up by the room light, smiling... for half a second.
then the smile vanished.
your eyes dropped. to his cock, still wrapped in his hand. then up—to the screen.
your photo.
from the shoot he took just days ago.
a sharp “SORRY!!” and the slam of the door brought him crashing back to reality.
he sat there, chest rising and falling, his face burning red. a deep crimson shadow spread across his cheeks.
but—fuck. instead of going soft, his cock throbbed even harder. shame only made it worse. the embarrassment turned him on.
he cursed under his breath, yanked his boxers and pants up, slammed a key to mute the sounds, grabbed a tissue, and wiped off the mess on his abdomen.
“y-y/n! w-wait!” he called, fumbling with his clothes, rushing out after you.
there you were—back turned, stiff, humiliated.
and fuck, seeing you like that? it only made him harder.
being caught jerking off?
embarrassing.
but being caught by you?
something else entirely.
you turned, face flushed red. he didn’t know what to say. how the hell was he supposed to explain he was editing your photos while jerking off—but not because of them?
“l-listen, what just happened—it's a misunderstanding. i mean, yeah, i was editing your photos. but i swear i wasn’t doing it because—”
“oh, really? you’re such a pervert! you were jerking off to my pictures!”
“n-no!! it’s not like that—” he stammered, the bulge in his pants making it hard to even think clearly. “i was doing... other stuff,” he emphasized awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.
and of course—you had heard the filthy sounds echoing from his room.
“so you weren’t touching yourself because of me?” your voice—soft, tinged with disappointment—cut deeper than a slap.
“n-no... no, i wasn’t…”
“why not?” you said, voice quiet, hurt, maybe even angry.
his eyes widened. what the hell were you saying?
he stared, hoping he hadn’t just imagined it.
but no—you really had said it.
“c-can i… would it be wrong if i asked to see it?” your voice wavered, barely above a whisper. your face turned, avoiding his eyes, your own burning with embarrassment.
“w-what…?”
you crossed your arms with a pout, refusing to say it again. yangyang’s eyes slowly traveled down your body. you were wearing a black off-shoulder long sleeve top that subtly hinted at your cleavage, a short gray denim skirt, and soft white ankle socks. on your feet, kun’s indoor slippers looked comically out of place with the rest of your outfit—but somehow, they added to the charm.
"can you... show me how you do it?"
your voice was soft, hesitant.
a curved, wicked smile spread across yangyang’s lips.
"oh no… you’re really perverted. you want to watch your friend touch himself, huh?"
"you did it first!" you snapped back, cheeks burning. "touching yourself to my pictures like it was nothing—"
yangyang chuckled and sat back down on his swivel chair, while you stayed frozen in the middle of the bed, sitting on your knees. he turned the chair to face you, spreading his legs a bit before slowly pulling his pants back down. he lifted his shirt and held the hem with his teeth to keep it from falling.
that move alone made your breath hitch. the way his toned stomach glistened—maybe from earlier—was almost too much to take in.
"i need to get in the mood first… you don’t mind, do you?" he asked with a teasing tone.
you blinked, not understanding what he meant at first—until he turned slightly and played a video on full screen. a blonde girl in seductive lingerie moved sensually on a bed, soon joined by a man whose hands roamed all over her.
"yeah... that’s better," he whispered, but his eyes never left you. even with the explicit video playing, it was clear the thing turning him on most was sitting right in front of him.
he freed himself again, his length thick and veiny, flushed a deep red. you swallowed hard, eyes glued to him.
"y/n, you really are a pervert..." he murmured in a deeper tone as his hand began to move slowly, deliberately. the moans from the video filled the room, mixing with the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.
"i-i’m not..." you whispered, thighs pressing together to ease the growing ache between your legs.
"do you like what you see? because i definitely like what i’m seeing," he said, his voice low and almost dangerous. something warm and wet was starting to pool beneath your panties, your body reacting before your mind could catch up.
your skin broke out in goosebumps when you heard the soft grunts escaping his mouth. his head tilted back slightly, one hand holding up his shirt, the other working between his thighs, faster now.
your bra rubbed against your sensitive nipples, making everything worse. your body felt flushed, hot under your skin, and you couldn’t tell if it was from the room temperature or the way yangyang was looking at you—like he was losing himself in you.
"let me see you, y/n…" he murmured, voice full of need. "touch yourself for me too."
his words felt like a command you couldn’t disobey.
you pulled up your skirt, rolling it up to your waist, you discovered your panties, pastel pink ones, small, with lace and cute little bows.
"fuck..." he groaned the moment he saw you. his hand moved faster, his breathing heavier. "touch yourself. i want to watch you too."
he could see the darker spot forming in the center of your underwear—a clear sign of how turned on you were. your fingers moved gently over the fabric, and you gasped softly at the contact. even the lightest stroke was enough to make you feel weak.
your fingers caressed your sensitive area over the fabric. you gasped at the electric sensation — just the simple touch was enough to make your legs tremble and desire surge through your body.
you kept stroking yourself through the cloth, this time with more intention. spreading your legs a little, you caught a glimpse of yourself in that position — and just the sight sent a jolt of heat straight to yangyang’s length.
“take off your panties, sweetheart.”
you slid your panties aside just enough to reveal your swollen, glistening folds. “god...” yangyang whispered, completely mesmerized. this moment was more intense than any of his fantasies — and his fantasies were wild, as expected from someone so deliciously perverted.
with two fingers, you traced your core from top to bottom, drawing out soft moans of pleasure. when the fabric started to get in the way, you slipped the panties off in one swift motion — a motion yangyang watched breathlessly, swallowing hard as his eyes drank in every second.
now your legs were open, completely exposed before him. your fingers moved frenetically over your clit, already swollen and throbbing, pulsing under every stroke — desperate for your touch, aching for his. you slid lower, teasing your entrance before pushing a finger in, and a loud moan tore from your lips, raw and involuntary.
yangyang mirrored your pace, eyes narrowing with fierce desire. he was close, too close — but he wanted to wait for you. he wanted to fall with you, at the exact same moment.
“put another one in, love. i want to see you with two fingers inside,” he begged, voice cracking with lust.
and because his wishes were commands, you slid in a second finger. your body trembled from the stretch, the overwhelming sensation forcing out helpless moans, as if no one else existed in the world but you and him. it felt too good — the situation, the build-up, the way yangyang was right in front of you, stroking his cock with his jaw clenched, the very sight of it enough to make your mouth water. you needed more. more of him, more of this.
the knot in your stomach twisted tighter. you quickened your rhythm, fingers slick, desperate, chasing the high that had been building endlessly. you wanted to fall over the edge. to unravel. to feel something more.
“y-yanggie... a-ah!!! i'm gonna come—i'm gonna explode, god!” you moaned, body arching as the wet, obscene sounds filled the room. chop, chop. every squelch echoing your pleasure, feeding his hunger. beneath you, a slick pool of arousal formed — a sight that drove yangyang insane.
“let's finish together, baby—let's come together, fuck, yes,” he groaned, increasing his pace despite the ache in his wrist. the pleasure of cumming with you was stronger than the pain. everything around him blurred, adrenaline rushing wild through his veins. and as you clenched your lip between your teeth, trying to hold on just a second longer, he swore he saw the most erotic vision of his life.
your fingers reached as deep as they could go, and in that moment, it felt like you'd touched heaven. a wave of heat flooded your face, your mouth parted, a thin trail of saliva slipping from the corner of your lips. then, without warning, you released — a stream of wetness bursting out of you, your climax crashing through your body, marked by a loud, broken moan that sounded like music to his ears.
he came too, spraying his cum high into the air, staining his pants in the process. but he didn’t care. nothing else mattered. as you collapsed back, breathless and undone, your body trembled with aftershocks — tingling, overstimulated, electric. it had been... perfect. the sight of your best friend touching himself for you, eyes fixed on every movement. and you, touching yourself for him, all the while wishing it was yangyang's fingers inside you instead.
yangyang couldn’t look away. he watched as your juices continued to drip from your pussy, the sight making his mouth water. the hunger hit him hard.
he dove between your legs without a word, burying his face in your soaked heat. his hands grabbed your thighs, pulling you closer as his tongue slid up your slit, slow and deliberate — hot and hungry. each stroke of his tongue made your body twitch, breath catching in your throat, and you could only gasp, still sensitive, still open for him.
“a-ah!!! y-yanggie—!!!” you cried out, overwhelmed by the sensation. it felt so good — too good — but at the same time, incredibly embarrassing. “i-it's dirty there!” you moaned, face flushed deep red from the shame. you instinctively tried to pull away, but his strength was greater than yours. he held you down with ease, his low grunt sending chills down your spine as he leaned in again, so close that even his breath kissed your sensitive center.
“you taste and smell amazing, i still can’t believe you’ve been hiding this part of yourself, y/n…” he murmured against your skin.
his tongue moved deliberately now — gliding over your outer lips, circling your clit, teasing every inch of you. the touches were soft, wet, and slow… extracting the sweetest moans from your mouth. you tried to stifle them with your hands, but he noticed. he noticed everything.
“don’t hide your pretty voice, y/n. i want to hear you,” he growled, voice low and rough. “fuck, i want to hear you scream.”
he looked up at you then — eyes dark, mouth glistening, shamelessly buried between your thighs. the sight alone made your core clench, your heart pound harder. you were so turned on it was dizzying, yet too shy to say it aloud. when his nose grazed your clit, you let out a squeal you didn’t even recognize as your own.
he kept devouring you for minutes that felt like eternity, and somewhere in between your cries, your moans turned into whispers of how good it felt. any traces of embarrassment had melted away. your fingers tangled in his hair as you pulled him closer, voice barely audible.
“yang…”
“yes, baby?” he murmured, looking up at you with glistening lips and hungry eyes, waiting.
“…i want to suck you,” you whispered, turning your face away in shyness.
he let out a low chuckle, the sound wicked and full of mischief. “you want what? say it clearly, love.”
yangyang was enjoying every second — savoring your flustered expression, your trembling voice. he knew how to ruin you, how to make you squirm with embarrassment… and you felt it, that creeping self-consciousness wrapping around you again, even as desire burned hotter inside.
“i want to suck your cock,” you said — no hesitation, no shame. your voice rang out firm, clear, hungry.
yangyang’s breath hitched, eyes widening at the sudden shift in you — bold, dominant, devastatingly seductive. he felt his cock twitch, throbbing painfully hard at the sight of your confidence, your desire no longer hidden behind flushed cheeks or shy glances.
you pushed him gently back onto the chair, guiding him with soft hands until he sat. then with your hands you leaned on his thighs to make space between them in a very sensual way, facing him, your movements slow and deliberate. your ass remained raised, skirt bunched around your waist, your pussy still glistening and dripping — an open invitation, even as your attention turned entirely to him now.
you slid down between his legs, nestling there like you belonged, hands gliding up his thighs with featherlight touches. his cock stood proud, flushed and wet at the tip, and your fingers traced along his shaft with reverence — worshipful, but teasing.
yangyang swallowed hard, his hands gripping the edge of the chair. the way you looked up at him while stroking him gently… fuck. like he was something sacred, something you'd been dying to taste.
“i want to be good for you, yanggie…” you whispered, voice soaked in lust, in devotion, in something so tender it nearly undid him.
he groaned, one hand reaching to brush your hair back behind your ear, his fingers shaking slightly from anticipation. “you already are, baby… you are so good…”
your tongue flicked out, teasing his tip, collecting the precum before dragging a slow, wet line down the underside of his cock. he let out a low moan, hips bucking slightly, but you pinned him with a firm look — not yet.
you kissed along the base, lips soft and hot against his skin, taking your time, your fingers still stroking him in rhythm. then, with a sinful smile, you wrapped your lips around the head and began to take him in, inch by inch, never breaking eye contact.
“fuck, fuck— y/n…” he hissed, his voice breathless, wrecked. you hummed around him, pleased by the reaction, by the way his thighs tensed and how he gripped your hair just a little tighter.
you wanted to ruin him. you wanted to taste every drop, every sound, every trembling breath that left his mouth.
just as your lips wrapped around him, slow and warm, yangyang reached for the edge of the desk with one hand — the other moved to quietly disconnect the camera, his eyes never leaving you. then, with calm precision, he switched it to video mode, and pressed record.
he had to capture this — you, in all your beauty, in all your power. the way your eyes looked up at him, so hungry and soft at once. the way your lips moved with intention. it was art.
“god… you look so perfect like this,” he murmured, almost reverent, his voice hoarse and low, like the words were being pulled straight from his chest.
you felt your cheeks warm, a wicked little smile tugging at your lips even as you kept him deep in your mouth. you pulled back slowly, your tongue teasing his tip, your hand continuing the rhythm below. then, with a playful glance at the camera in his hand, you adjusted a loose strand of hair behind your ear, tilted your chin slightly — just enough to show your best angle — and asked, sweetly:
“do i look pretty, yanggie?”
your voice was soft, laced with mischief, and your eyes sparkled with the kind of confidence only you could carry mid-act.
he groaned like your words alone could finish him.
“you look... like sin,” he whispered. “like a dream. my dream.”
your lips curled in satisfaction, but you didn’t stop. you dove back in — lips, tongue, hands — working in harmony, now with the knowledge that he was watching you twice: in real time, and through the screen.
you made sure to keep the rhythm steady, purposeful, your movements fluid and mesmerizing. every now and then, you stole a glance at the camera, letting him see your pride, your power. you were putting on a show, but it was real — this was real.
and god, he was falling for you all over again with every second.
his breathing grew heavier, chest rising and falling as your rhythm became more intense, more focused. you felt it — the way his hips twitched slightly, the soft curses spilling from his lips, his hand tightening around the phone.
“shit, baby— i’m close,” he groaned, voice cracking at the edge of control. “i'm gonna—”
but you pulled back just enough to speak, voice sultry and breathless.
“no… not yet,” you whispered, licking your lips. “i want you to finish inside me.”
his eyes widened, the rawness of your words shooting through him like lightning.
“you sure?” he asked, barely managing the question, his voice all gravel and want.
you nodded, already rising, turning around with a confidence that left him breathless — your skirt still bunched at your waist, your skin glowing in the dim light, your body moving like a dream. slowly, you guided him back inside you, straddling him in reverse cowgirl, your movements fluid and steady, your hands gripping the arms of the chair for balance.
yangyang’s jaw dropped open as you began to move, your back arched, hips rolling — a rhythm both powerful and sensual. he adjusted the camera in his hand, angling it to capture everything: the way you rode him with control, the curve of your spine, the wet sound of your bodies meeting again and again.
“fuck… you’re unreal,” he moaned, the camera shaking slightly in his hand from the way his body trembled. “you feel so good, baby—”
you looked over your shoulder, lips parted, breath heavy, hair a little wild.
“i want you to remember this. every time you watch that video…” you said in a voice barely audible over the rhythm of your bodies, “i want you to remember how i chose this. how i chose you.”
and then you moved faster, your moans turning into whimpers, your body clenching with pleasure. he gripped your waist with his free hand, losing himself in the feeling, the sight, the sound of you falling apart on top of him.
“i’m gonna cum, fuck—” he growled.
“do it,” you whispered. “inside me, yanggie… i want all of you.”
just when you thought you were both about to finish together, yangyang surprised you — his hands gripped your waist and with one fluid movement, he pulled you off him and lifted you effortlessly into his arms. you gasped, startled, your legs instinctively wrapping around him as he walked toward the bed.
“not like this,” he murmured against your ear, breath warm, voice hoarse. “i want to see all of you… when we finish.”
he laid you down gently at the edge of the bed, the softness of the sheets contrasting with the fire between your bodies. without letting go of the moment, he tossed the camera aside — it landed somewhere out of sight, still recording, but forgotten. right now, all that existed was you and him.
his eyes never left yours as he aligned himself again, the tension between you snapping like a drawn bow. your hands reached for him, your body arched in invitation. the pace this time was deeper, slower, more intimate — like he was memorizing the way your bodies met, the way your breaths tangled in the space between kisses and gasps.
you whispered his name like a prayer, your nails digging gently into his back, and he answered with soft moans and words you could barely catch — praises, desires, promises tangled in the haze of pleasure.
your legs tightened around him, urging him closer, deeper.
“i’m right there,” he breathed, eyes searching your face. “with you. just hold on…”
you nodded, lost in him — in the feeling, in the heat, in the connection that pulsed stronger than anything else.
and then the moment hit — not just the physical rush, but something bigger, something that made your whole body shiver. your hands clutched at him, your voice trembled, and as he followed right after you, everything around you blurred, melted, disappeared.
for a few moments, there was nothing but silence, breathless and glowing.
he collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms without a word. your heart still raced, but it was softer now, steady in his embrace.
as you both got dressed slowly, still catching your breath and feeling the lingering sensitivity, yangyang bent down to pick up the camera from the floor. when he lifted it, he noticed the small red light still blinking.
“it’s still recording,” he said with a soft laugh, shaking his head with a mischievous smile. “guess it caught more than i expected.”
you giggled too, hiding your face with your hands, caught somewhere between embarrassment and excitement. he glanced at the screen for a second before turning to you with that teasing look in his eyes.
“do you want a copy?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “i can send it to you… along with your edited photos, of course.”
you bit your lip, amused, and nodded. “what if we upload it?” you teased, winking at him.
yangyang fell silent for a moment, clearly surprised. a light blush crept onto his cheeks, but his smile returned just as quickly.
“only if we keep recording more,” he whispered, stepping closer, his voice low and tempting. “so you can build a full collection… upload whatever you want.”
your laughter blended with his as he wrapped his arms around your waist, and in that moment, the world shrank to just the two of you—lost in soft jokes, dirty promises, and the thrill of all the hot moments yet to come.
has been plotting to launch his own music and concert company for a decade and actually did it now
literally started planning this when nct u came out. two years before wayv’s debut. insane
the company is called tenth sound because he believes music is made of 9 essential elements and the tenth is the audience
(the new branding is very straightforward and cohesive generally, i like it)
is now based in bangkok far from the clutches of sm or mainland china, legally and politically that’s a good move
has already scheduled a 10th anniversary concert (called TEN: CORE0110, from 17–19 July 2026) with mystery features that we have to guess. thai actor/singer/host nunew is already announced for the concert
is not working with ticketmaster i repeat he’s independent
looks great in his first own posters
EDIT: he also appears to be in the studio as of lately 🥳
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
req for a ten reaction/headcanon/fic where his lady is a virgin but he didn’t realize because she doesn’t seem shy or anything.
and so he ends up fucking her super rough for the first time because she never told him (she thought he could tell + she just trusts him to do whatever) and then like the aftermath of that?? how would he react, and if you want to write out the smut
cw: rough sex (accidental), virgin!reader, trust kink, unintentional pain, guilt, soft!Ten, emotional smut, healing, worship... idk lmk if i missed something
wc: 3k aprox
note: God, it took me a while to finish this!! I hope it's what you had in mind. I actually ended up liking it a lot! I hope you do too.
☆ First, he thought you were experienced
The way you kissed him wasn’t timid. It was hungry. Hands on his chest, your mouth open and eager, tongue teasing like it knew what it was doing. Ten didn’t second-guess it for a second. You climbed onto his lap like you’d done it a hundred times, straddling him with thighs that squeezed, hips that rolled slow and suggestive against his growing erection.
He groaned into your mouth, his hands sliding beneath your shirt, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts with practiced grace. You moaned—soft but sure—and arched into his palms. Confident. Responsive.
“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” he mumbled, kissing along your jaw. “I’ve been dying to get you under me.”
And you only laughed, breathless and flushed. “Then do it.”
That was it. That’s all it took. You said it like someone who knew. Someone who’d had this before, maybe not with him—but with someone. He didn’t think to ask. You seemed ready. Bold. Unafraid. So Ten pushed you down onto the mattress and peeled off your clothes like they were wrapping paper.
☆ Then, he fucked you like he meant it.
Ten doesn’t do anything halfway. Not in the studio. Not on stage. Definitely not in bed.
So when you welcomed him in with no hesitation—pulling him down between your legs, your thighs spread wide and gaze locked with his—he gave you everything.
Not slow.
Not tentative.
Just pure, blistering want.
He kissed you like he was starving. Bit at your neck until you whimpered. Gripped your hips like he was trying to mold them to his own. His voice was low and raspy, filthy compliments slipping from his lips as he pushed his cock against your entrance, teasing you with the thick head.
“You’re so wet already,” he breathed, brushing the tip through your folds. “You want it rough, don’t you, baby?”
You nodded—honest. Naive, maybe. But you didn’t flinch. You didn’t stop him.
And Ten groaned, “Fuck yes,” before sinking into you in one deep, unforgiving stroke.
He didn’t notice the way your breath hitched—or maybe he did, and mistook it for pleasure. Because when you gasped, he groaned, “God, you’re so fucking tight—shit.” He thought it was a compliment to your pussy, not a red flag.
His hips set a brutal pace from the start. Fast, hard, deep. The kind of fucking meant to leave you shaking for hours. The kind that came with his teeth on your shoulder and his hand pressed flat over your stomach to feel the bulge every time he bottomed out.
“Can’t believe you’re taking me like this,” he growled. “Such a good girl—fuck, I love the way you moan for me.”
You moaned because you had to. Because it was too much and not enough, overwhelming and raw, and you didn’t want him to stop because despite everything, you wanted this. Even as your body cried out, your mind was quiet. Safe.
You trusted him to break you. Even if it hurt.
☆ And you didn’t stop him.
Even when your eyes blurred.
Even when your throat tightened.
Even when the stretch burned more than it pleased.
You didn’t stop him.
Because it was Ten.
Because you wanted him.
Because the way he touched you—kissed you—looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered… it made you feel safe enough to let go. To surrender.
And more than that? You just… didn’t think you had to say it. You assumed he could tell. Surely a man like Ten—someone so worldly, so sexually attuned, so in sync—he had to know, right?
He had to notice how tightly your walls clung to him.
How your breath stuttered every time his hips slammed into yours.
How your nails left crescent moons in his back because it was so much, too much, too soon—but you didn’t want him to stop.
It felt like being cracked open and rearranged.
Not just physically—but emotionally, spiritually. The kind of thing you can only give someone once, and you were giving it to him. Silently. Trustingly. Letting him claim you in a way no one else ever had.
You didn’t say “slow down.”
You didn’t say “it’s my first time.”
You just held him tighter. Opened your legs wider. Whimpered when it got too intense—and kissed him even harder to keep him close.
And he kept going. Because to him, it wasn’t pain—it was passion. Your tears were overwhelmed bliss. Your trembling thighs? Just part of the high.
You trusted him to handle you however he wanted.
And he trusted you to tell him if he went too far.
Neither of you realized you were both wrong.
☆ Afterwards, he saw it.
It hit him all at once. Like cold water down his spine.
He was still panting, still basking in the post-orgasm haze, the sweat cooling on his skin and his arms cradling your trembling frame when he shifted to pull out—and then he saw it.
Red.
A smear on the inside of your thigh. A little streak where your bodies had been pressed together. Tiny speckles on the bedsheets below your hips.
Ten froze.
He blinked, thinking maybe it was just friction. Maybe his nails had scratched you. Maybe—
But you looked so calm. So soft, boneless in his arms, blinking up at him like he’d given you the world.
And that made it worse.
“Wait…” he murmured, voice a dry crackle in his throat. “Baby—are you okay?”
You smiled lazily, almost shy. “Mmhm… just a little sore.”
His chest tightened.
“A little sore?” he echoed. “What do you mean—? Did I hurt you?”
You hesitated.
Then—gently, like it was nothing—you said, “It was my first time.”
Everything stopped.
Ten sat back like you’d just slapped him. Eyes wide. Mouth parted, stunned. “Your what?”
“My first time,” you repeated, a bit slower. “I thought… I mean, you didn’t ask. I figured you knew. I wanted it like that.”
Like it was no big deal. Like giving him your virginity was just something you gave. So easily. So trustingly. No fear. No conditions.
And Ten’s heart shattered.
“Baby…” he whispered, almost sick with guilt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
You touched his arm, trying to soothe. “Because I trust you. And I wanted you to have me the way you wanted.”
And that? That undid him.
You hadn’t said anything because you trusted him to take care of you. To know. To see you. And instead, he’d fucked you like he was chasing a high—not making love to someone who’d never been touched like that before.
And now, all he could think was: She trusted me something special … and I didn’t treat it like it mattered.
☆ He felt like the floor dropped out from under him.
“Your first time?” His voice was quieter now, barely above a whisper—but laced with disbelief, and guilt, and something far too raw to name. His eyes swept over your body, all flushed and marked and open beneath him. The red blooming on the sheets. The slight tremble in your thighs. The little wince you gave when you shifted.
Ten’s breath caught in his throat.
He’d done this to you.
And he didn’t even know.
He brought a shaking hand to your cheek, cupping it gently—too gently now, like you might shatter. “I thought—fuck. You didn’t seem nervous. You were so confident. I didn’t even think…”
You smiled again, soft and sleepy. Still trusting. Still safe. “I wasn’t scared,” you said. “Not with you.”
And that wrecked him.
He didn’t even realize how tightly he was holding your hand until you squeezed back, trying to ground him. “I wanted you,” you added, voice laced with honesty. “Even if it hurt. It was you.”
But Ten shook his head. “No, baby. That’s not how it should’ve happened.” His thumb traced your cheek. “Your first time should’ve been slow. Gentle. Something you remember like a dream, not a storm.”
You blinked at him, surprised by how emotional he sounded. It wasn’t just regret. It was ache. Like he’d been given something priceless and only now realized he’d broken it in his hands.
“You deserved to be worshipped,” he said, kissing your knuckles. “Not wrecked.”
And you whispered, “You did worship me.” But Ten wasn’t convinced.
He was already spiraling. Already cataloging every rough thrust, every bruising grip, every filthy word he whispered in your ear like you weren’t someone’s first. He thought about how you moaned and arched and gasped—and how he hadn’t once stopped to wonder if that was pleasure or pain. He just assumed you were used to this. That someone like you, so bold and stunning and confident, couldn’t possibly be untouched.
But you had been.
And now he’d touched you in every way wrong for a first time.
☆ He took care of you like you were glass.
Ten couldn’t undo it.
Couldn’t rewind time and give you softness before the stretch, kisses before the ache, words of devotion before the sharp slide of his cock into a body that had never known it.
But he could do this.
He could hold you closer.
He could wipe your thighs clean with trembling hands and whisper “I’m so sorry, baby” again and again against your skin, even when you swore it was okay. He could press his forehead to your hip and breathe deep until his own tears stopped threatening to fall.
“Let me make it better,” he said. “Please. Just… let me take care of you.”
And you nodded—because of course you did. Because you trusted him. Even after everything.
So he wrapped you in his shirt and held you against his chest like a heartbeat. He kissed your temple and your shoulders, whispered praises into your hair like a prayer: “You’re perfect.” “So brave.” “So fucking beautiful.” “I’m going to do this right.”
He ran a warm bath. Not too hot. He tested it three times.
He carried you there, cradled like something sacred.
He sat you between his legs, chest to your back, and washed your skin with the slowest, softest touch.
“You should’ve told me,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. “I would’ve treated you like gold.”
“You still did,” you whispered back.
But Ten wasn’t convinced. Not until you sighed and leaned into him. Not until he saw your eyes flutter shut in comfort, not pain.
He dried you with a towel that smelled like him.
He lay you back on clean sheets and pulled the covers to your chin.
He kissed your fingertips. Your knees. The inside of your wrist.
And then—voice low, but steadier now—he asked, “Can I… show you how it should’ve been?”
You blinked. “Now?”
He nodded slowly. “Not to fix it. Just… to give you the real first time. The one you should’ve had. With kisses and slowness and me telling you how fucking lucky I am to be the one you chose.”
Your throat tightened. “Okay,” you said softly. “Yes. Please.”
☆ Then he made love to you—like a first time should be.
No rushing.
No roughness.
Just Ten, moving like every part of him was designed to honor every part of you.
He started with a kiss—slow, tender, the kind that made your toes curl and your heart ache. His hands didn’t roam. Not yet. They stayed on your face, cradling your jaw like something precious, like he was memorizing your shape with just his palms and mouth.
“I’m going to take my time,” he whispered, lips brushing yours. “You tell me if you need anything. You lead. I follow. Yeah?”
You nodded. You were already breathless—and he hadn’t even touched you properly yet.
But oh, he would.
Ten’s mouth moved down your neck in soft, lingering passes. Gentle sucks, warm licks—nothing rushed. Nothing demanding. He kissed your collarbones like they held secrets. Your breasts like he was grateful they were bared for him. His tongue circled your nipples, slow and reverent, while his hand cupped the weight of you with care, like you were made of silk.
He took his time between your thighs, too.
Not just spreading them, but admiring them—his thumbs stroking your skin, his eyes worshipful.
“So beautiful,” he whispered, voice warm and low. “You’re unreal.”
And then his mouth was there, licking gently through your folds.
Not fast. Not messy. Just… focused. Precise. Loving.
He tasted you like you were art. Like you were the first thing he’d ever wanted, and now that he had you, he’d never waste a second of it.
When he slipped one finger inside, it was slow. Careful. Watching your face the whole time.
“You okay, baby?”
“Yes,” you breathed. “It’s so good…”
And he smiled against your skin.
He added another—still gentle, still patient—and worked you open in slow waves, curling and stretching and kissing your clit in tender pulses until you were clinging to him, moaning softly, trembling for all the right reasons this time.
By the time he moved back up, your body was already floating. Lit from the inside. Warm and weightless and ready.
“I’ll go slow,” he said again, kissing your forehead. “I’ll take care of you this time.”
You wrapped your legs around his waist.
“You always do.”
☆ His body slid into yours like a vow.
No thrusting.
No rough grip.
No dirty words.
Just a slow, aching press of hips to hips—his cock nudging into you with a deliberate gentleness, like he was asking your body for permission even now. His forehead rested on yours. His breath shook. His eyes didn’t leave your face, not even for a second.
And you felt it.
All of it.
The stretch, yes—but sweet now, fuller than before, softer. Your muscles had already been tender from before, but now he was giving you time. Letting your body unfold around him inch by inch. Letting you gasp. Letting your hands clutch his back. Letting you feel how deeply he filled you—and how much care he carried in every second.
“You’re doing so good,” he whispered, brushing your hair from your face. “You feel so fucking perfect.”
Your eyes fluttered. “So do you…”
He sank deeper—slow, smooth, and reverent.
You gasped and tightened your legs around him, drawing him close, anchoring him inside.
And he just held you there.
Deep. Still. Chest to chest, heart to heart.
“You okay?” he murmured, kissing your cheek, then your temple, then your eyelids. “You want me to move, baby?”
“Please,” you whispered. “Just don’t stop touching me.”
He smiled. “Never.”
And then he moved.
So slow.
Like ocean waves.
Like worship.
Each roll of his hips came with a kiss. A praise. A whisper of your name like it was sacred.
“You’re mine.”
“You’re perfect.”
“You were made for me.”
It didn’t feel like sex.
It felt like healing. Like a rewrite. Like he was kissing every place he’d been too rough before—and making it right now, one loving thrust at a time.
He didn’t fuck you. He loved you.
And it was more overwhelming than anything rough could ever be.
☆ And when you came, it wasn’t from pressure—it was from love.
It started in your chest.
A warmth that spread slowly—like a tide coming in.
No sharp drop. No sudden grip. Just… fullness.
Emotion swelling inside you like your body was made to hold him. Like you were finally, finally being given what you deserved.
Ten’s lips were on your throat, his hand holding yours tight, his voice a soft stream of praise against your skin.
“So good, baby. You’re taking me so well.”
“You’re perfect like this—so soft around me, so mine.”
“You feel that? How deep I am? That’s how much I love you.”
And then—
That slow, heavy pressure in your belly crested.
Your thighs trembled.
Your nails sank into his shoulders.
And the orgasm bloomed.
It wasn’t sharp—it was deep.
A slow-motion rush, like falling into something warm and endless. Your walls fluttered around him, clenching and milking him in gentle waves, and Ten felt it—his breath catching, his hips pausing, his hand flying to cradle your face as you moaned out his name like a song you’d waited your whole life to sing.
“That’s it,” he gasped. “That’s it. Let go for me.”
And then he was coming too.
Not with a growl this time. Not with a brutal thrust.
But with a whimper.
His face buried in your neck. His hands gripping your sides like he couldn’t believe you were real. His whole body tensing as he spilled inside you in slow, rhythmic pulses—still moving, still careful, still kissing your skin through it.
“God,” he whispered. “God, I love you.”
☆ The afterglow was soft, sacred.
He didn’t pull out right away. He stayed buried inside you, hips flush, arms tight around you. One hand stroking your spine. The other brushing your hair back from your damp forehead.
You were dazed. Drowsy. Drifting on the high.
And he looked at you like you were everything.
“You okay?” he asked gently.
You nodded, cheeks flushed, smiling dreamily. “Better than okay.”
His eyes glistened. He kissed your knuckles. “You sure?”
You tugged him close, nuzzling into his chest. “I’ve never felt so… loved.”
Ten exhaled shakily, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’ll never stop making it up to you,” he promised. “You trusted me, and I’ll spend the rest of our time showing you how much that means.”
You smiled. “Then start by staying here. Don’t move. Just hold me.”
