#piwon

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

“What are those marks around your wrists?”

Your hand, with your chopsticks and dumpling and all, gets snatched by Shota from across the booth. His hand practically engulfs yours as he twists it this way and that to eye the little red scuffs around your wrist.

Your face burns as you recall black rope and warm hands. Jongseob tenses where he sits beside you, thrown askew by the question in the midst of chewing his noodles.

You scramble for an answer. “I wore my bracelet too tight,” you say, averting your eyes when Shota’s gaze lifts to your face.

“This is rope burn,” he states.

Your stomach twists with nerves. Of course Shota would recognize it; from what Jongseob had told you he was the one to show Jongseob the ropes (metaphorically… and physically, you suppose).

When Shota’s eyes shift to Jongseob and his brows raise, the corners of his lips lifting in a knowing little smile, you know there’s no point in hiding.

“Ah,” he says with a giggle, lowering your hand to the table but not yet letting go. “Finally got your fantasy, huh Seobie?”

Jongseob bristles in your peripherals. “Sho—”

“Didn’t I tell you to use those fur lined cuffs I gave you?”

Jongseob goes silent, and when you glance at him, you see his eyes wide and skin a little pale.

“Shit,” he mutters, his eyes flickering down to your wrist. “I completely forgot that you gave me those.”

Shota clicks his tongue, shaking his head slightly. “It’s okay, the damage isn't too bad.” He brushes his thumb over the reddened, still sensitive skin. “I have some cream that can help with this that I can lend you.”

You stare at him, feeling completely out of depth with this whole conversation. Are they really talking about your BDSM escapades out in the open like this? In a family Chinese restaurant? Nevermind that your first dalliance into this world was only two nights ago.

“Um, yeah,” you answer, flustered. Shota only seems to find your squirming amusing. “That would be nice.”

He lets go over your hand, giving you a sweet smile that feels anything but nice. “Eat,” he tells you, then turns back to his soup.

You reluctantly lift your dumpling into your mouth, chewing on it mechanically as your mind continues to race. You almost didn’t accept Jongseob’s invite to dinner tonight, still feeling a little off kilter with what happened.

It's not regret, but… now that you’ve seen Jongseob in his element, seeing him like this—beside you, talking to Shota about games and their schedules like he doesn’t tie people up in his free time—makes you feel off balance. 

And it’s not just him, Shota is driving your brain up a wall too. Your first thought when you sat down across from him in the booth tonight was what he might be like in that setting.

He must be dominant, right? If he was the one to teach Jongseob all of… this. Wait, what would teaching even look like? Would Shota have been the one to tie J—

“So, did you two make an agreement?”

Shota’s voice brings you out of your dangerous track of thoughts. But it sends you down another, more confusing one.

“A what?” You ask.

Jongseob tenses beside you again and Shota raises a brow, looking over at him. “Was there any preparation at all that went into this?”

“It sort of just… happened,” Jongseob answers meekly, poking at his noodles.

“So there was no checklist?”

“...No.”

The sigh Shota lets out makes you feel like you did something wrong.

“Okay,” you say, placing your chopsticks down. “Context?”

Shota turns his attention to you, twirling his spoon between his fingers. “Well it's mostly informal but it's good practice to fill out a list and establish rules and boundaries before going into a scene,” he explains, and sends your brain deeper into your destructive thought train. “But it seems like someone got a little too trigger happy.”

Jongseob groans, his chopsticks clattering to his bowl. “I know, I know. I should’ve been more careful.”

“You should have,” Shota chides in a tone that does nothing to ease your gutterbrain. “Especially considering it was her first time.”

You squirm in your seat, a nervous laugh bubbling in your throat. “This all sounds very… formal. Honestly, I was just expecting kinky sex.”

An older man in the booth to your right shoots you a dirty look but you ignore him.

Shota makes a disapproving sound. “It’s not just that—”

“Yes, yes, don’t worry,” you cut him off with a wave of your hand. “Seob already gave me the whole spiel.”

“Well, at least he did something right.”

Jongseob makes an offended grunt, there’s a bump under the table, and then Shota jumps with a pained yelp.

“Brat,” Shota mutters under his breath, reaching down to rub his leg.

You glance between the two of them, thinking that maybe you’re starting to understand a bit of their dynamic but the question still remains.

“How?” You ask, then scramble to elaborate when they both turn to stare at you. “I mean, like, how? When? You two.”

Shota breaks into an amused laugh. “He walked in on me and my ex. Then he stayed and watched. And then…” He trails off, turning to Jongseob with an impish grin.

Jongseob’s face turns a bright red. “It’s not important,” he huffs, lowering his head over his noodles to curtain his hair over his face as he picks up his chopsticks again. “My bad for not consulting you before we did anything.”

He means it as a sarcastic jibe at Shota, you know that, but the thought that hits you makes you dizzy. Of them consulting over you.

“Well if you do it again, make sure you do it right,” Shota says before turning back to his soup.

The words slip from your mouth before you can do anything to stop them. “Or you could just teach me.”

They both pause, their eyes shifting to you again, and you get hit with the urge to drop down under the table and hide.

“You want to do it again?” Jongseob asks, brows raised.

You bite down on your lip. Honestly, the answer was clear to you from the moment you stepped out of his apartment that night.

“I do,” you admit quietly, slipping your hands under your thighs to keep them from trembling at the excitement at the mere thought of it. “I wanna know what more there is to all this.”

Shota hums, tilting his head slightly as he considers your words. “There’s been a couple things Seob has been wanting to learn but it would require a third party… We could kill two birds with one stone,” he murmurs, thinking aloud.

You have to refrain from squirming under his gaze. “I’m down. If you guys are.”

“Yes,” Jongseob says almost immediately, then clears his throat and straightens. “I mean, yeah. I’m down.”

Shota gives him a judgemental brow raise, but he’s smiling still. “Then it’s settled,” he says, turning his grin to you. “I’ll send you the checklist tonight.”

𓆩⟡𓆪

The “checklist” ends up being a comprehensive list of kinks, most of which you have to look up to even know what it is, many of which you didn’t even know could be a kink, and some of which makes you put your phone down on your couch to take a deep breath.

Shota had made a grouchat with the three of you and sent the list almost as soon as you left the restaurant that you hadn’t seen until you arrived at your apartment.

It’s good to know he’s just as eager as you; you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since you hugged them goodbye.

So you spend the entire night doing a deep dive into the internet’s reserve about BDSM and all the kinks on that list before you fill it out, nevermind that you have work in the morning.

By the time you’ve filled out the list, checked off what you’re all for, what you’re curious about, and what’s completely off the table for you, it’s nearing 5am. And despite the late hour, Shota still responds to you just a few minutes after.

sho-kun: ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ sho-kun: we already know what we want to try for our scene. do you want me to tell you or do you want us to keep it a secret?

The thought of them discussing what they want to do to you should not make you feel as insane as it does.

You reread the text, chewing on your lip. On one hand, you’re dying of curiosity and this feels like something you should be fully preparing yourself for. Knowing what they have planned would help.

But on the other…

you: keep it a secret. i want to be surprised

It’s just more exciting that way

sho-kun: ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ friday at 7 ok??

you: fine w me

𓆩⟡𓆪

It’s not fine. It’s not fine at all, because the four days wait until Friday spans longer than four days have ever spanned and you’re losing your mind with anticipation.

Jongseob and Shota had both sent over their checklists shortly after you did, just so everyone is on the same page (you learn that there’s not much that Shota isn’t into whereas Jongseob is more reserved), and you’d spend hours, days since then just thinking about what it might be from those lists that they have in store for you.

You know rope will be involved somehow, or some type of bondage, with the shit that Shota was giving Jongseob for not doing it right. Your wrists burn at the thought of being bound up again. The marks are gone and completely healed over; the cream that Shota leant you worked miracles.

What does it say about you that you miss them?

They almost felt like a claim, one that you’d given willingly and one that you hope to give up again soon, and not just to Jongseob.

The thought of it, of being claimed again, leaves your skin prickling with an anticipation that keeps you company on your drive to Jongseob’s place.

They’d decided to do it there for the sake of familiarity for you given that your first time had happened there.

Another thing that drove you insane; them referring to your “first time” being your escapade with Jongseob as if you had given your virginity to him. Your BDSM virginity, maybe, but it’s still enough to feel dizzy about. Like you’ve only just started on the road to kinky corruption with them in the passenger.

You only get one knock in before the door swings open and Shota stands before you with a bright grin. 

“You’re right on time,” he chirps, stepping aside to let you in.

You blink, stepping in through the door. “Were you waiting by the door?”

He shrugs, taking your wrist and bringing you over to the couches as soon as you’re free of your shoes. “Yes,” he says, then gently pushes you down to the couch. “Tea?”

You pause, half expecting to have just been swept to the bedroom by now. “Uh… I’m okay.”

Jongseob appears then, rounding the couch to place a mug of tea on the coffee table in front of you. “Have some tea,” he says, looking down at your hands. “You seem nervous.”

You clench your fists, realizing just then that they’d been trembling, and give a sheepish smile at the knowing grin that Shota gives you.

“Yeah, okay,” you concede, reaching for the mug.

“While you do that, we need to go over a few things,” Shota says as he places himself in front of you, sitting on the coffee table and slipping his phone out of his pocket.

Jongseob takes a seat beside you with his own mug, sipping idly as Shota starts off. 

He pulls up your list and goes on to recite it all to you, asking you at the end if anything has changed since you filled it out. You answer with an emphatic no, then he reminds you of the traffic light system—green for go, yellow for slow, red for stop. Then he insists that you only use his real name and to not call him Soul by any means because it’s apparently a real moodkiller for him then makes sure you bring up any boundaries you might have.

But honestly, you’re too focused on the heat of both their bodies surrounding you and trying not to get too wet from just having a conversation about kinks.

“If you couldn’t tell, he’s a real stickler for rules,” Jongseob hums beside you once Shota has finished his spiel and stood up from his seat.

“Someone has to be,” he states, tossing a lazy kick to Jongseob’s shin. Then he turns to you and gives you a smile. “Tonight, you will be blindfolded and gagged.”

You choke on your sip of tea and Shota quickly takes the mug from you, Jongseob scrambling to pat your head and back as you climb yourself down from your fit of coughs.

“I’m—” You cough again, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Oh.”

“Sorry,” Shota says sheepishly. “Sensory deprivation was on your list. We’ll let you have your hearing since it will be your first time.”

You swallow, feeling a distant ringing form in the back of your head. “O-Okay. That’s fine with me.”

“And temperature play.”

The ringing becomes louder as you just stare at him.

He tilts his head at you. “That’s all okay, yes?”

You nod, maybe too eagerly, because you hear Jongseob laugh beside you. 

“Come on, Shota,” Jongseob says, standing and offering you his hand. “I think she’s getting a little excited.”

You flush as you place your hand in his. “Can you blame me?”

He pulls you up to a stand in front of him, and his face is so close to yours that you’re hit with the sudden realization that after all this, you haven’t kissed him yet.

He must come to the same conclusion; his eyes flicker down to your lips and lingers there. “Not at all,” he murmurs, the tip of his tongue flicking out to wet his lip.

Then you feel a solid wall of warmth behind you, two strong hands coming down to your hips and pulling you back. You gasp softly as your back hits Shota’s firm chest.

His breath hits the bare skin of your neck as he speaks, low and husky in a way you’re not used to from your usually sunny friend.

“Let's get one thing clear,” he says, turning to let his lips brush your ear. “I’m in charge tonight. Got it?”

Your breath hitches, the low pulse of need thrumming to life between your hips. You glance up at Jongseob to see him watching you both intently. 

Shota must catch wind of your unspoken question because he chuckles, fingers digging firmly into your clothed flesh. “Jongseob is in charge of you,” he says, turning to look over at him. “But not of me. There’s a couple things I need to teach him tonight. Isn’t that right?”

Jongseob swallows, giving a slight nod as his answer. The difference between him that night a week ago and now, a little meek and reserved and not the one in charge of the room, has your brain whirring at the prospect of seeing him in a new light.

The breath rushes out of you in a quick swoop. “Oh.”

Shota’s hands slide off of you, only to come back a second later to wrap a black satin fabric over your eyes. 

You startle at first, but you feel Jongseob’s hand quickly grasp yours as Shota fastens the blindfold, tying it firmly at the back of your head.

“Okay?” Shota asks you once it’s done.

You nod, then yelp when you’re suddenly lifted off your feet.

There’s strong arms that hoist you up into a princess carry, Shota’s you assume, and then you’re on the move. You clutch a fistful of his shirt, the heat of his body seeping into you and adding to the steadily growing heat that already festers inside you.

It might be a little ridiculous considering that only your sight has been taken away, but you can already feel yourself teetering into that mindspace, the one that lets you give up your own body in favour of just feeling.

Soon enough, your back hits soft, fuzzy fabric. A towel you think, but it's big enough to span down to your feet where you lay.

There’s movement that you hear around you before a pair of hands settle at your waist.

“I’m going to take off your clothes,” says Jongseob, before his hand slides up your shirt to sit against the bare skin of your stomach. “Okay?”

You give a quick nod, letting him maneuver you as he pulls your layers off you. Soon, you’re laying there, fully bare and trying to fight the urge to curl into yourself.

You’ve already laid yourself out for Jongseob, but it’s a different feeling to know you’ve got a bit of an audience now.

You hear, and feel, a chunk of weight drop beside you on the bed with metallic clanks.

Your stomach twists as you recall the handcuffs and linked chains you saw that night in Jongseob’s bathroom.

“I’m going to tie your arms down,” Shota says, picking up your wrist in his hand. His thumb brushes soothingly over your hammering pulse point. “You won’t be able to move them.”

He pauses, as if waiting for your denial, but when there isn’t any you feel something like a soft coat of fur wrapping around your wrist.

“Fur lined cuffs,” Shota chuckles when he sees the pinch between your brows.

“Right,” you mumble, cheeks heating when you feel the cuff tighten around you. “The ones Seob forgot about.”

“Sorry,” you hear him pipe in from somewhere at the end of the bed but Shota quickly shushes him.

“You live and you learn,” Shota states, wrapping another cuff around your other wrist. “That’s why he has me.”

You let out a shaky breath as he brings both your hands over your head, tying your forearms in parallel to one another with rope that you’re already familiar with the feel of. He checks with you to make sure they aren’t too tight before fastening your tied arms to the headboard by the cuffs at your wrist.

You test the restraints, giving your arms a tug only to find that there’s no room for movement. A pulse of heat shoots straight to your core at the thought of being left completely at their mercy, and you quickly press your legs together to quell some of that growing pressure.

It must grab their attention because you hear amused chuckles coming from both of them.

“Was she this needy last time?” You hear Shota ask as he moves away from the bed.

“Just about,” Jongseob says, closer to you now than he was before. “She was soaked by the time I finished tying her up.”

A quiet whimper catches at your throat, the pressure between your legs worsening by each second that they spend just talking about you like you’re not there.

There’s hands at your thighs then, prying your legs apart. You gasp at the sudden pull, twitching to close your legs again but the hands, Shota’s you think, keep them apart.

“Stay still,” you hear him grit, his fingers digging into your flesh.

You settle with a quiet whimper, letting your muscles relax. But then there's something wrapping around your thigh, another one of those fur lined cuffs you think but larger, and fastening down firmly. There’s another one also being wrapped around your other leg; which can only mean they’re both working together to tie you down completely. Your head spins when you hear the clinks of more chains as they get attached to the cuffs at your thighs, the other ends of them getting attached to the headboard on either side of you.

Your skin heats at the realization of your position—being opened up and left exposed like this, completely open and pliant under their mercy.

Shivers climb through your body; you can’t see them but you know their eyes are roving over you.

“She’s already wet,” Shota murmurs, sounding completely in awe. His hand on your thigh slides down stopping just at the apex of your inner thigh, so close to where you really need him, before clamping down on your flesh.

“Told you she’s excitable,” Jongseob says from your left.

You whine, shifting under the restraints. The ones at your legs are just as unforgivable as the ones on your arms, forcing your legs to stay raised and folded at your sides.

“Shhh,” Shota coos before lifting his hands off you. “We’re just getting started. You can be patient, can’t you?”

His voice sounds so sweet, so soothing—but you know his words aren’t a gentle request. They’re a demand, a poison no matter how much he douses it in sugar.

“There’s one more thing you need to do for me before we can keep going.”

He moves away again before coming back just a moment later. A weight drapes over your neck, something soft like those lined cuffs.

“W-What is that?” You stammer, tremors wracking through your breaths as you feel him slide it under and around your neck.

“A collar,” he says, lifting your head with one hand to click it into place with the other. “I don’t let anyone sub for me without wearing it.”

The weight of the collar, thick and present around your neck, makes your head feel like it's being stuffed with cotton. Claimed, you think to yourself. It's a nice feeling, like it’s official that you’re under his care now. Both of theirs.

There must be a ring at the front, because you feel the collar tug up and your head lifts under the pull.

“Colour?” Shota asks quietly and you whimper out a quiet, “Green.” He lets go and you melt back down to the bed. “Good.”

Something small and plastic gets pressed into your palm. “A clicker,” Jongseob explains as he adjusts your thumb to rest over a button on the tiny remote. “You’re going to be gagged so you won’t be able to talk. This is your safeword. When we ask for your colour, click it three times for green, twice for yellow, once for red. Click it once at any point and the blindfold and gag come off.” His voice is slow and soothing, like he’s accounting for the fact that your brain might already be going soupy. “Understand?” When you nod, he hums in approval and instructs you to click it in all the patterns to test.

Once that is settled, he moves back and Shota’s hand comes down to press against your jaw. “We’re going to gag you now. Open.”

“Wait,” you say, turning your head towards his direction. There’s still one more thing that’s been buzzing around in the back of your mind. “You said you were going to teach Jongseob something... What is it?”

You can hear the smile in his voice as he answers. “Restraint,” he says, then pushes the silicone ball gag in your mouth before you can ask any more questions.

Once that’s fastened, their hands leave you—completely trapped and under their mercy. You don’t think you’ve ever felt an exhilaration like this.

“Pretty,” Shota murmurs above you, before you feel the weight of his palm press between the valley of your breasts. It slides down your body, so slow it leaves you squirming.

You tremble under the warm touch that stops at your naval. You want it to go lower, but you fear wanting anything right now isn’t much of an option.

But, to your surprise, your wants go answered anyway. Because his hand slides down lower and two fingers pass through your slick folds. 

The sensation, and the obscenely wet sounds, make your body jolt and your legs try to uselessly snap shut. The restraints keep you still, tied in place. 

You whine when his fingers start to slide slowly back and forth, just feeling for you, but your sounds come muffled around the gag. 

You hear his soft chuckles, breathy as he says, “So wet already.” He uses his slick fingertips to circle your clit, sending sparks of heat from your core through your body. “I wonder how long your body’s been wanting this,” he muses, sliding his fingers down to tease at your entrance. 

“She’s a natural,” you hear Jongseob murmur above you. His voice sounds affected, strained. “Just born to submit, aren’t you?” He hums, before you feel his hand cup your breast, kneading the soft flesh. 

There’s a steady stream of whimpers and short breaths that spill from your stuffed mouth, your body already taut with the band in your belly growing tighter by the second. You’re already wound up from all the lead up. You know you won’t last long.

“You’re close already,” Shota observes, trailing his fingers back to rub torturously light circles around your clit. “But you can’t come until I tell you. Got it?”

You let out a whine of protest at that but Shota only giggles.

“Good,” he says before he lifts his hand off of you entirely, leaving you whining again for lack of the stimulation you’re throbbing for. 

Your entire body jolts when something cold and wet presses to the space between your clavicles. Ice. 

Then it trails down, slow and steady leaving prickles of cold trailing in its wake. The sensation feels more intense than it normally would, like you can feel the cold all over your body instead of at just the immediate contact point.

Your body trembles helplessly under it as it makes its way down to your bellybutton, circling there for a moment before straying even lower. 

Panicked little whines start leaving your throat as it travels further. It stops at your pelvis. 

“Colour,” you hear Shota say, his voice even breathier than before. 

You take a shaky breath trying to settle your trmoring body but it’s a fruitless attempt. You click the button three times. 

The ice moves lower, gliding down to press against your clit, and you wail at the sharp spike of cold, burning pleasure that shoots through you. 

And it moves even lower, the ice melted down to a small thing that Shota presses against your entrance, then pushes in.

Your body jerks against the restraints, chains clinking at the movements as the overbearing cold breaches inside your heated cunt. Though it melts quickly, trickling out of you in steady streams, but Shota doesn’t wait for that. 

Instead, he pushes two fingers into you, a burning stretch against your walls that rivals the sharpness of the cold, and starts fucking them in and out at a rapid pace that has a hot pleasure wash through you over the cold. 

The sensations become all too much for your body as it thrashes and trembles under the stimulation, barreled to your orgasm at an alarming speed. 

You try to warn him, but it all comes out as muffled gasps and whines. 

“Close already?” Shota asks you, voice low and gruff, almost judgemental in tone as he continues to piston his fingers into you. 

You try to respond but your muffled words get cut off into a sharp moan when you feel another cube of ice press against your nipple. 

“You can hold out a little bit,” Jongseob muses as he circles the ice around the bud, teasing it to a stiff peak. He doesn’t keep it in one spot for long before moving it to your other nipple, working it just the same. 

You jerk under the cold sparks that shoot through your chest, yelping when you feel Shota’s thumb start to circle your clit. “I don’t think she can,” he says, then crooks his fingers just right to start punching against that sweet, spongy spot inside of you with each thrust. 

A panic seizes through you when you realize that you really can’t. 

Your body tightens all around as you’re practically shoved to the edge, coiling tight with the band of pleasure in your gut pulling taut. 

Shota seems to feel a little merciful. “Come for me,” he says, and that’s all it takes for your orgasm to punch through you, body wracking with violent shakes as the intense tremors wrack over you. 

It lasts for a while but Shota guides you through it, slowing his fingers gradually to wind you down while easing the pressure on your clit. When you drop down to the bed, boneless and panting and crying into your blindfold, his hands finally move off of you, as does Jongseob’s. 

You’re not sure how long you lay there, shaking from the aftershocks and trying to stay present. You can already feel your grasp on your mind slipping, falling into a space where you can’t do much except float in sensation. 

An arm sliding under your waist brings you back just a little as it lifts you up. You feel a pillow slide under your lower back before you’re settled on top of it. 

You make a sound at the shift in position, a wordless ask that Shota answers. 

“Don’t worry,” he says, pressing his palm against your cheek. You turn at the touch, seeking the warmth of his hand as you nuzzle into it. He giggles fondly, brushing his thumb against your cheekbone. “This is just for our next part.”

You pause. What now?

He seems to catch on to your hesitance, digging his thumb affectionately into your cheek. “Don’t you worry.” Then his hand is off of you, his voice redirecting from you. “Seob?”

There’s a dip in the bed in front of you, the warmth of a body settling close. Then there’s a pressure against your cunt, hot and thick and velvety as it slides through the slick and you gasp, hips twitching when it presses against your clit. 

Jongseob teases his cock against you like that for a moment, leaving you whimpering and twitching from the sensitivity that still persists, before he finally pushes into you with a choked groan. 

You moan around your gag, your fist tightening around the clicker as he settles all the way in you, stretching you full to the brim with his hardened cock.  

He stutters when you clench around him, feeling him twitch inside you in response. 

“Fuck you’re tight,” he hisses, his hands bearing down on your thighs. 

Then he goes still, seated deep into you at an angle that makes you feel like he’s brushing against the deepest parts of you. 

“Good,” you hear Shota murmur before he starts tinkering with something at the bedside table. “Remember when I said I was going to teach him restraint?”

It takes a moment for you to register through the fog in your brain that he’s speaking to you. You make a hitched sound in response. 

“He’s going to stay just like that,” he says, moving closer to you. You can’t see him, but you can feel his presence hovering over your body. It makes your skin tingle alive again with anticipation. “For thirty minutes. He’s not allowed to move, and neither of you are allowed to cum. Okay?”

Dread pools in your gut. 30 minutes? Well if it’s just this and he’s not fucking you, you don’t see what the trouble would be. But you know deep down that it wouldn’t be so easy. 

“Colour?” He asks, and you don’t hesitate at all before you click three times. “Good girl.”

You jerk at the sudden prick you feel on the skin at your chest. It’s hot, not burning, but a single point of an intense warmth just between your breasts. 

You make a questioning noise that cuts off into a sharp breath when you feel another prick just under the last, bigger this time. The warmth lingers for a moment longer, before you feel whatever it is harden on your skin and cling against you like a second layer. Wax.

There’s nothing more for a long moment, like he’s gauging your reaction. But then it comes back all at once as a long stripe poured from the middle of your chest down to just above your belly button. 

It’s so much more intense, a sharp warmth that blooms through your body and has you rattling against your chains. You whimper, body clamping down around Jongseob without control and he lets out a choked grunt, his fingers digging sharply into your thighs. 

“You’re sensitive,” Shota muses, sounding all too amused by your reactions. 

You gasp at the sudden cold of ice that starts gliding down your skin beside the stripe of wax that slowly dribbles down your skin, hardening on the way as the branching stripes thin out. 

It continues like that for a long while, a flash of cold somewhere on your skin before a burst of warmth that follows. There’s no rhythm or reason to when the cold or the warmth is coming and where it might be, leaving your body dangling over the edge with anticipation. 

It’s enough to have you shaking again, an unmoving thing around Jongseob who throbs and twitches inside you relentlessly, but remains otherwise still. 

“You’re shaking so much,” Shota coos, a mocking concern as he slides his hand down your quivering thigh, his touch leading dangerously close to where you and Jongseob are connected. “And you’re creaming so much again. Too much?”

You shake your head hastily; the thought of all this stopping sounds worse than the twenty or however many minutes you have left of going without cumming. 

He laughs. “So eager,” he teases, then pushes his finger against your clit and starts circling it in quick, tight circles. 

Shota preens at the sight of your body bristling under the simple touch. Not only does it affect you, but it affects Jongseob, who’s face twitches at the feeling of you pulsing around him, pained as he holds himself back from chasing your heat. 

Shota doesn’t relent, just drives you closer to another orgasm with his finger and makes your body convulse so much that it has Jongseob’s breaths come out ragged, his hands tightening on you with restraint. 

But just before you can tip off, he pulls his hand off of you and cuts off your stimulation. The tension in your body melts away in a snap, Jongseob sighing in relief when you finally go still. 

Shota doesn’t let the ease last. He picks up the pitcher of wax and dribbles another stripe across your torso, up until your nipple. The stripes and splatters of black wax settle on your bare body like a mural of his filthiest dreams. He’s been wanting to do this for so long—and finally, he’s found his muse. 

He feels himself throb under his jeans, straining for some form of relief. But he ignores it in favour of latching onto your clit again, driving you towards the edge yet again. 

“Sh-Shota,” Jongseob whimpers, trembling with the effort of not giving into his body’s desire to just fuck into you. He clutches at your hips, trying to hold you down and keep you still but Shota can see the way your cunt still flutters around him. 

Shota clicks his tongue, still thumbing at your clit as he fixes Jongseob with a disapproving look. “It hasn’t even been halfway yet. Stay still.”

Jongseob drops his head with a ragged breath, his nails clawing into your hips. 

You whimper around the gag, your hips trying to roll up with a mind of their own over Jongseob’s cock. You’re trying to say something around the gag but it comes out muffled and dismembered. Your body tenses with the threat of release and Shota takes his hand off of you again, leaving you right on the precipice. 

You drop with a sob that wracks through your entire body and Shota almost feels bad. Almost. 

He places the pitcher down and instead reaches to dip his hand into the bowl of ice. He doesn’t pick any up, just brings his drenched hand over you and flicks the cold water, chuckling when your body flinches as the cold droplets hit. 

Seeing you squirm might just be his new favourite thing. 

He knows it's cruel—keeping you so on edge that you tremble and cry even without being under direct stimulation. It only makes him want to push you harder. 

He reaches for your clit again, spurring your body back to life under the steady stream of stimulation. He can’t tell if your whimpers are pained or pleasured anymore. 

It doesn’t take much time to wind you up to your edge again, and again—he leaves you hanging every time. His chest twists at the loud sob that leaves your mouth. Your tears have soaked through the blindfold, leaving salt tracks down your cheeks that he wants to lick up. 

“Pretty,” he mumbles, pinching your clit between his fingers. You’re pretty when you’re ruined. 

You whine, hips bucking up desperately against Jongseob’s weakening hold. He’s panting now, eyes bleary, the flush on his face climbing down his neck. 

Shota knows you’re at your limits. There’s still nine minutes left. He could be nice. Or…

He grabs a cube of ice, pressing it to your nipple as his other hand goes back to your clit and flicks at it, rapid and unforgiving. 

He grins as he watches you cry out around the gag, your orgasm ripping through you with such an intensity that the bed creaks and rattles under your thrashing body, restraints rattling dangerously. 

Jongseob lets out a sharp cry before he doubles over, trembles wracking through his body. 

Shota watches, with a sick sense of satisfaction, as Jongseob’s cum seeps out around where he’s still buried in you. 

He clicks his tongue, pulling his hands off of you and dropping the shrunken cube of ice back into the bowl. 

“And we only had eight minutes to go,” he sighs, smirking when your body tenses up at the reminder of his rule. 

A shudder passes through Jongseob’s body. Shota reaches over and grabs his chin, yanking his gaze up. He looks up at Shota with wide, panicked eyes. 

“S-Sorry—“ He starts, but Shota cuts him right off. 

“Punishment,” Shota says, letting go of him to start undoing your binds. “You’re gonna do it for me.”

He laughs to himself when he sees Jongseob tense up in his peripherals but he ignores him for now as he continues to take off your restraints one by one, lightly massaging your limbs as he goes to bring the feeling back into them. 

Jongseob isn’t the biggest fan of punishment. Nothing intense, at least. But that’s what’ll make it so fun for Shota to watch. 

He takes off your gag, rubbing your jaw gently with his fingers as your mouth immediately snaps shut, soft whimpers spilling unbound now. He pulls off your blindfold and smiles when he sees your distant gaze—glassy-eyed and so far gone. 

“We’re not done here, pretty,” he says gently, reaching down to grab the D-ring at the front of your collar, tugging it to jostle some of your consciousness back. 

You blink your eyes slowly, brows furrowing as the words process slowly. “Mm?”

It seems words are beyond you now. He smiles, grabbing the corner of the towel laid under you and using it to swipe off the drool around your mouth. 

“I have to punish you. You came before I told you you could.”

His painfully hard cock twitches when a fresh wave of tears well in your eyes. “I tried,” you sniffle, sounding so desperate. 

He swipes away your tears as they fall, leaning down to press a soothing kiss at the apple of your cheek. “You did,” he says, gently enough that your emotions settle just a bit. He’s not totally cruel. “But you still broke a rule. So did Seobie. I can’t let that go unpunished. You understand?”

You let out another sniffle, lips trembling as you give him a tiny nod. 

He grins, feeling nothing short of proud at just how compliant you are. “Good girl. Colour?”

“Green.”

He’s a little surprised at how quickly the answer comes, but he doesn’t let it go to waste. He slides an arm under you, lifting you to sit up. 

Jongseob has already shifted himself to sit at the edge of the bed, fidgeting with the sheets as he waits. Shota lifts you up, maneuvering you to lay on your stomach across Jongseob’s lap with your ass perched up. 

Once you’re settled how he wants, Shota steps back to sit himself on the chair set by the bed with a perfect view as he watches Jongseob’s eyes rove over you, nervous hands settling at your lower back and thigh. 

“Eight for every minute you couldn’t give me,” Shota says, leaning back as he undoes his belt. He hastily undoes the buttons and zipper of his jeans, slipping his hand in through his layers to grasp at himself and sighing at the pressure he’s been craving for so long now. “Make sure she counts them,” he says through a heavy breath, settling into the chair. 

There’s only a little bit of stalling as Jongseob whispers something to you, his hand kneading the soft flesh of your ass in a soothing gesture. 

The first crack of Jongseob’s hand coming down against your flesh is softer than Shota would have liked. But it still makes his cock jump, just as the way your body does at the impact. 

A small, whimpered, “One,” leaves your lips, almost too quiet for him to hear. 

But the sound is so helpless and timid that he has to squeeze himself at the base to hold back from reaching his peak too quickly. 

The next one is still too gentle, so Shota shoots Jongseob a sharp look that Jongseob only glares back at before he brings his hand down on you harder. 

You let out a broken, “three!” Your body is already starting to quiver again. 

Jongseob smooths the reddening flesh with his palm, giving you a moment of relief before he brings his hand down again. 

You let out a sob as you count the next number. and Shota starts to stroke himself to the sounds of your sniffles, head rushing with your broken voice. 

By the time it comes to the last one, your entire being is trembling with both pain and an aching need that grows yet again between your legs. 

Your fists tighten around the sheets, head rolling to the side to be met with the sight of Shota sitting there with his fist working himself, his manic eyes locked onto you. 

Your eyes meet through the blur of your tears as Jongseob’s hand comes down on you for the final time, harder than any before, and you let out a loud cry, your spent body only being able to tremble and nothing more at the sharp ache it leaves behind. 

It takes you a moment longer to remember your task. “Eight,” you whimper, the tension in your body slowly melting when you feel Jongseob’s hands lift off of you.

Shota stands, making his way over as he tucks himself away. You notice even through the blur that he’s still hard under there. The ache between your legs grows more prominent, the itch to be filled and fucked properly still present despite it all.

“Good girl, angel,” Shota coos, his arms coming around to lift you off of Jongseob and lay you on your back. “You took it so well. Let’s get you clean—“

“More,” you cut him off in a quiet mumble, starry, hazy eyes blinking slowly up at him. 

Shota pauses, glancing over at Jongseob’s puzzled face before looking back at you. He tilts his head, not sure if he’s heard you right. “What’s that?”

He feels his dick jump in his confines, still not fully taken care of, when you part your legs like you’re offering your mess of a cunt up to him. 

“Want you to come,” you breathe.

Shota feels dizzy. Here you are, an utter mess and complete wreck, offering yourself up for his pleasure. He’s more surprised that you have enough of a mind to still think about him. And that you still have anything left to give.

He swallows, wrapping his hands around your thighs and pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. “Yeah?” He asks, eyeing your fluttering pussy still leaking with your previous orgasms, and Jongseob. 

“Please?” You ask in a small voice. 

Shota’s restraint crumbles. He shoves down his jeans and boxers in a haste, freeing himself and wasting no time to sink himself into your warm cunt. 

A guttural groan rips from the depths of his lungs as he doubles over, hands bracing down at the sides of your head. Your smaller hands wrapping around his wrists, your eyes looking up at him with a gaze so filled with reverence and trust, Shota nearly cums on the spot. 

He doesn’t recall anyone else ever looking up at him like that, no matter how much care he’d put into them. Truly, there’s never been anyone like you. And he knows in that moment, there’s no way he’s letting you go. 

He pulls out enough until his tip remains, sighing at the tight slide, before he pushes all the way back in with a hard snap that thrashes your body up and leaves you moaning, the sound unobstructed and so sweet. 

He fucks you with a vigour he hasn’t felt before, veins thrumming with a near animalistic want to have you coming undone on his cock. 

He drinks you in—the way you moan, the way your face twitches with pleasure, the way your eyes water at the intensity of his thrusts, the way the ring of the collar—his collar—still around your neck clinks with every movement. And he loses himself in all of it, in fucking you until you come for him for the third time with a cry of his name.

He stutters at the sound, at your cunt pulsing around him before he starts pounding in even harder, grunting as he feels his high closing in. 

“Fuck, pretty,” he pants, his pace becoming clumsier by the second. “So good for me—taking me so good. Wanna make me feel good, don’t you?”

You mewl, nails digging in around his wrists as you sniffle. “Wanna make you cum… feel good…”

“Fuck, you are,” he gasps, slowing down to deep, grinding thrusts that has him digging into the deepest parts of you. “You are—nngh, so good, pretty, so—good, fuck!”

He pulls out, fisting himself rapidly until he cums over you, thick white ropes painting over the black stripes of the wax still clinging to your body. 

The sight makes him dizzy all over again—your painted body, a curation by him. He wants to take a picture, to preserve you just like this all pretty and fucked out and painted by him. But you’re starting to drift away, and he can’t let you get too far. 

He tucks himself away with dazed movements, hesitant to let this moment end as his body still buzzes from… everything. He reaches down for you. “Seob, start a—“

“Kiss.”

He pauses, hovering over you with his brows raised.

You blink up at him, movements still syrupy slow as you reach for his arm. “Kiss?”

Warmth blooms in his chest; his subs usually never get intimate in this way with him. And there’s not a bone in his body that wants to deny you.

He leans down and presses his lips to yours, unable to keep the smile off his face as you kiss him eagerly even if your movements are a little uncoordinated and clumsy. 

Your hand claws into his shirt as you try to pull him closer and it takes a Herculean effort for him to pull back, chuckling softly down at you. 

“Later, pretty,” he says, gently prying your hand off of him and placing it at your chest. “I gotta get you cleaned up.”

But you’re not listening to him. Instead your eyes move over his shoulder and he looks up to see Jongseob still watching, almost entranced. 

When it becomes clear what you’re asking with your eyes, Jongseob bristles forward and practically shoves Shota aside to seal his lips over yours. 

Shota giggles at the eager sight, stepping back with a pat to Jongseob’s shoulder. “Stay with her, I’ll be back.”

He moves away when it’s clear you’re not even listening, moving to the bathroom to draw together a bath. He makes sure to use all of Jongseob’s fancy shit—extra bubbles, some scented oil, and a few candles—to set the mood. 

When he comes back out, he finds you curled into Jongseob’s chest, the both of you in different states of consciousness. It’s a sweet sight, and he really doesn’t want to break it up, but he knows you can’t be comfortable under all of the wax and other stuff. 

So he goes over, pulling you both back to present as he comes into view. “Come on, let’s get you in the bath.”

He reaches down to take the collar off of you first, but you swat at his hand, curling away from him with a protective hand over it. “No,” you huff, turning to bury your face in Jongseob’s shoulder. 

Jongseob looks amused as he smiles lazily up at Shota. “Looks like you got yourself a keeper,” he teases but there’s a fondness to his voice as he looks back down at you. 

Shota can’t help but grin. “Lucky me.”

Bringing you to the bathroom isn’t much of a task, but getting you under the shower (because Jongseob is the kind of guy to have a bathroom with both a shower and a tub) to wipe off the waxes and other substances is, because you refuse to let go of him to the point where Jongseob has to step in and hold you still. 

Getting you into the bath is much easier when Shota tells Jongseob to get in with you, considering your refusal to let him go by latching onto his arm. 

The unusual display of clinginess doesn’t come as much of a surprise given the intensity of the scene. But it’s cute, so Shota has no problem as he sits himself on the lip of the tub and washes your hair, every touch bringing you closer and closer back to the present. 

“You guys are crazy,” you mutter after a while, head lolling back onto Jongseob’s shoulder. 

Shota smiles, dumping the jug of water over your head as retaliation and giggling while you yelp and sputter, wiping at your face. 

Jongseob snickers, tightening his arms around you. “If we’re crazy, so are you. You asked for everything tonight.”

“Yeah, but,” you flush, sinking further into the water. “I didn’t think it would be like that.”

A quiet panic starts growing in the pit of Shota’s stomach, the loofa nearly slipping from his hand. “You don’t have any regrets, do you?” He has to ask because he can’t have it happening again—

“No,” you say sharply, breaking off his dark trail of thought, and that quashes away the doubts that started growing in Shota’s head. “Not at all.”

He sighs in relief, smiling as he takes your arm to lather the soap over your skin. “Good.”

The moment lulls after that, the sounds tinkling of water, soft breaths, and the rose scented air keeping you company. 

“So,” you start again, eyes lighting with a twinkle that makes Shota preen even before you finish your thought. “Same time next week?”

He eyes the collar still around your neck, glancing up at Jongseob’s hopeful, inquiring eyes. “Of course,” he answers, grinning as he loops his finger through the collar and tugs you closer. “You’re mine now.”

taglist: @jellyybelly, @jseobbie, @tintedsvn, @seobjecttt, @stxrxyyz, @hxraiiii, @peachy-x-k33n, @choxochip, @ozzysoatsolivesandpasta, @boptak, @peonyjoo, @kittyshotak, @oyasumiaikko, @straystar-8, @aalyluvz, @evemds, @willowedjelly, @velvetjoong, @seonghwaswifeuuuu, @delicatechris, @orchidves, @lycxee, @girlcrushd, @halaziasupremacy, @chandlxa, @soulssnucky, @snyngjhn, @jiungs-wednesdaygirl, @leleluvrs, @princessthelsa, @nichozzystuffs, @mo8ny4951, @rockstartaeyang, @shmooooo, @cherryyberry1 @keymeadoww @1007-human @p1issocool @tikfreakingtak @nota10butadefinite8 @willthewise10 @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @skibidiloreni

message me or comment to be added to my taglist! 𓆩⟡𓆪 check out my masterlist for my other works

1 reblog/comment = 1 virtual kiss <3

You’d been kissing for what felt like hours, slow, deep, exploring kisses that tasted of the sugary candy you had been eating together earlier.

Your shirt clad chest pressed against his bare one, his lips soft but insistent, tongue a gentle promise against yours. This was your routine. The making out that would leave you both breathless and flushed, that would stir an ache low in your belly, but would always, always stop before it became too much.

Jiung never pushed. He’d kiss you until your lips were swollen, hold you until your limbs were liquid in his hands, and then, with a soft, pained groan into your neck, he’d untangle himself, adjust himself discreetly, and leave you with a chaste kiss on the forehead, his own need a secondary concern to your comfort.

You had a fear of sex. Not of him, never of him, but of the act itself. The vulnerability, the potential for pain, the loss of control. He knew. He’d held you through quiet tears when you first confessed to him, scared that he'd leave you as so many others had. He listened without judgment as you fumbled through explanations of your nerves. His patience was a fortress around your fragile feelings.

But tonight… tonight was different. A restless, needy want surged through you. The usual slow burn of your make-out sessions felt like it was igniting something more in your body. You broke the kiss, panting softly, and instead of settling against his chest, you began to move. A timid, tentative roll of your hips, grinding the soft cotton of your pajama shorts against his stomach and lower.

Jiung’s breath hitched. His hands tightened on your waist. “Baby?” he murmured, his voice breathy against your lips.

You didn’t answer with words. You just kissed him again, more desperately this time, your tongue sliding over his as you ground down harder. A tiny, helpless noise escaped your throat, a high-pitched whimper you barely recognized as your own.

It was like flipping a switch in him. A low groan escaped his throat which only encouraged you more. “Fuck,” he whispered against your mouth. “Those little sounds… you’re going to kill me.”

Emboldened, you held onto his broad shoulders, your fingers digging into the muscle there. You rocked against him, seeking friction, seeking more.

The thin layers of fabric between you were a maddening barrier. You could feel the hard length of him, trapped in his sweatpants, pressing insistently against you with every movement. You rubbed yourself against him, your movements growing less hesitant and more purposeful. The tension in your lower belly was tightening, a sweet, urgent pull.

“Jiung,” you gasped, breaking the kiss to bury your face in the crook of his neck. God he smelled so good. “I… I need…”

“What do you need, sweetheart?” His voice was strained, thick with desire, but his hands were still gentle, one coming up to cradle the back of your head. “Tell me. Anything you want.”

You lifted your head, meeting his dark, caring eyes. They were full of so much heat, but also an unwavering patience. “Can I have... a little more. Please?”

He searched your face for a long moment in awe, his gaze tracing your flushed cheeks, your kiss-swollen lips, the desperate plea in your eyes. He nodded slowly, a solemn agreement. “You can have whatever you want my love. Can I take these off?” he asked, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your pajama shorts.

You nodded, a shiver of anticipation and nervousness racing down your spine. “Yes.”

His movements were careful. He guided you off his lap as he helped you lift your hips, sliding the soft shorts down your legs and tossing them aside. The cool air of the room kissed your heat, making you aware of how exposed you were in just your shirt and panties. He then hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his own sweatpants, pushing them down before kicking them off the bed.

The sight of him, lying back against the pillows in just his black boxers, stole your breath. He was all lean muscle and smooth skin, his pretty tattoos on full display. The soft lines of his abdomen led down to where an unmistakable erection strained against the cotton, the tip already dark with moisture and visibly outlined. You swallowed hard.

“Come here,” he whispered with a pat to his lap. He was lying back fully, guiding you to settle back on top of him, your soaked pussy now aligned directly with the ridge of his cock through the fabric. The new position was more intimate, more intense. You could almost feel every inch of him.

Hesitantly, you began to move again, grinding against him slowly. The sensation was immediately different. The thin material of your panties and his boxers were a pathetic curtain between your heated flesh. A jolt of pure pleasure shot through you, and a soft “oh” fell from your lips.

“That’s it,” Jiung encouraged, his hands settling on your hips. “Just like that. Feel good?”

“Mmm-hmm,” you managed, already losing yourself to the rhythm. You started moving harder, chasing that addicting feeling, your thighs gripping his sides. The wetness gathering between your legs was making the glide so much smoother. You could hear the soft, wet sound of fabric moving against fabric.

“God, look at you,” he groaned, his eyes raking over your body. Your shirt had ridden up, exposing the soft skin of your stomach. “Can I touch you? Here?” His hands hovered over your torso.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please.”

His touch was fire. One large hand slid up under your shirt, his palm scorching as it cupped your breast and he was delighted to find no bra there, just your bare skin. Your heart hammered in your chest at the contact, this being the first time he'd ever touched you there.

He squeezed gently, his thumb brushing over your nipple until it pebbled into a hard peak between his fingers. The other hand splayed across your stomach, possessive and warm, before sliding around to grip your waist, holding you steady as you moved against him.

Lost in the sensation, your own hands reached behind you, bracing on his strong thighs for support as you rocked your hips in a desperate circle. The friction was exquisite, building a pressure that you had never experienced before.

Jiung’s gaze was locked between your bodies. His breathing was harsh. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he choked out. “Look at that. You’re soaking through your panties. I can see it.” A dark, wet patch had indeed bloomed on the light-colored fabric, clear evidence of your arousal.

He bit his lower lip, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Can we… can we take these off? Just these. I promise, I won’t do anything else. I just… I need to feel all of you against me. No barriers. Please.”

His plea was raw and honest. You were scared, a flutter of panic in your chest at the thought of being so bare before him. But this was Jiung. Your Jiung. Who had never broken a promise to you and who you've never ever felt uncomfortable with.

You gave a shy, almost imperceptible nod.

The devotion in his movements made your throat tighten.

Once again, he gently moved you off his lap and hooked his fingers into the sides of your panties and drew them down your legs with agonizing slowness, his eyes drinking in the newly revealed flesh. When they were completely off, he didn’t immediately move. He was transfixed. His breath left him in a shaky, awed rush.

“Wow,” he whispered, his voice full of wonder. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Every part of you. Absolutely stunning.” His gaze was hot, worshipful, drinking in the glistening folds, thankful that you trusted him enough to reveal yourself to him. The intimacy of it was overwhelming, but the pure admiration in his eyes chased some of the fear away.

He quickly discarded his own underwear, freeing his painful erection. It sprang up, long and veined, the head flushed a deep pretty red and beading with pre-cum. It was intimidating, the sheer reality of it, its size, its obvious need. You whimpered, your body tensing ever so slightly.

“Shhh,” he soothed instantly, catching your reaction. He leaned forward to kiss you softly. “It’s just me. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want. We can stop right now.” His sincerity was endearing.

“No,” you whispered back, kissing him. “I want… I want to feel you.”

Blushing furiously, he helped guide you back onto his lap. The moment your bare skin met his, the hot, silken head of his cock pressing against your dripping folds, you both gasped. It was a shock of sensation, so much more intense than through fabric. His hands returned to your hips, gripping firmly as he helped you grind down on him.

“That’s my girl,” he praised, his voice rough.“Ride me just like that. Use me to make yourself feel good. God, your pussy is so soft, so wet for me. You feel that? How perfect we fit together even like this?”

You could only choke out a whimper in response, your head falling back as you moved. The hard head of his cock dragged through your slickness, rubbing against your sensitive clit with every pass, setting your nerves alight. The sounds were so obscene, wet, slick, squelches that filled the room. You leaned in to kiss him, needing the balance of the sweet innocent touch in contrast to the not so innocent touch below you.

And you were dizzy with it, with the feel of him, the smell of sex and sweat, the sight of his blissful face watching you come apart.

“Jiung,” you panted, tearing your mouth from his to press your forehead against his shoulder. Your movements became less coordinated, more sporadic. “I need mngh- I....ah!” You didn't even know what you were saying, babbling uselessly on his cock.

“I know, sweet girl, I know,” he soothed, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other spread on the small of your back. “You’re doing so good. Just feel it. Listen to your body.” His own body was flexing hard against you, every muscle tensed with the effort to control himself. He kissed along your jaw, down your throat, his tongue tasting the salty sweat on your skin.

“You’re making such a pretty mess for me, all over my stomach. My good girl.”

Overwhelmed, you captured his lips again, wet and sloppy, matching the pace perfectly. As the intensity built in your belly, you began to clench around nothing, your clit pulsating against him and the aching emptiness inside you was becoming unbearable. You pulled back, your eyes swimming with desperate tears of frustration and longing.

Before you even realized what he was doing, he gripped your waist and rolled you both over, laying you down on your back amidst the crumpled sheets. You whined in protest, a sound so sweetly frustrated, your hips arching off the bed, seeking the lost friction. “Why’d you do that? I want… I want to make you feel good.”

God how could someone be so unbelievably sexy and cute at the same time Jiung thought. You had really thought you were in control. You thought just because you were on top, because he let you set that sweet little pace, that he wasn't holding every ounce of control. The way he guided your hips when they faltered, the way he kept your thrusts shallow so he wouldn't scare you away, the way he had to hold himself back to keep from flipping you over an hour ago and driving into you until you both forgot your names.

He looked down at you, your brows still furrowed in adorable frustration.

He could only imagine the future. The future where he would finally show you what control really feels like. When he would pin those pretty wrists above your head and watch your eyes go wide when you realize how much stronger he is, how easily he could tear you apart. How he would turn that sweet, needy grinding into deep, possessive thrusts that leave you sobbing his name.

A tremor of raw anticipation ran through him at the thought. Oh my love, you have no idea.

He leaned down, kissing away the crease between your brows, then lower to capture your lips in a slow deep kiss meant to silence your protests and swallow your little whimpers.

"Shhh my sweet girl," he murmured, one hand coming up to cradle your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheekbone.

"I don't want you getting tired from grinding on me." The truth, but not all of it.

He kissed you again softly before continuing, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

"Let me take care of you princess," he whispered. "That's how you make me feel good."

He settled between your thighs, spreading you open wider. The position was more exposing, more vulnerable. You watched the intense focus on his face as he looked down at your dripping cunt with stars in his eyes, still clenching uselessly around nothing. "God look at you."

Then he reached down and took himself in hand. You watched, mesmerized, as he stroked himself a few times, pleasuring himself with just the sight of your pussy, then finally guiding the broad head of his cock through your soaked folds. He rubbed it against you, coating himself in your arousal, the swollen tip catching on your entrance slightly, sending your heart racing, before sliding up to circle your clit.

“Oh god!” you cried out, your back arching off the bed. The direct stimulation was unbelievable. Each pass sent jolts of white-hot pleasure straight to your core. He set a slow, torturous pace, watching your face intently.

“You like that?” he murmured, his own control slipping. “You like my cock rubbing against your pretty little pussy? Look at how wet you are for me. You’re dripping all over me. Such a good girl, taking it so well.”

You cried out, between his voice and cock, the sensations were so intense you could barely breathe, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge without letting you fall.

“That’s it, let me hear you. Your moans are the best sound I’ve ever heard. You have no idea what you do to me. I could spend hours just like this, feeling you get wetter and wetter."

He was true to his word as he glided through your sensitive flesh with increasing pressure and speed. The pressure inside you was wound impossibly tight, a screaming tension that demanded release. You were thrashing beneath him, clutching at the sheets, a continuous stream of pleas and cries falling from your lips.

“Can’t… I can’t…” you sobbed.

“Can’t what, sweetheart?” he teased, wanting nothing more than to drive you mad. “Can’t take it? You can. You’re taking it so beautifully.” He leaned down to kiss you on the nose. “Tell me what you want. Use those pretty words.”

Gathering every ounce of courage, you reached between your bodies, your fingers brushing against his where he held himself. You looked up into his burning eyes and whispered, so quietly he had to strain to hear, “Can you… put the tip in? Just… just the tip?”

He stilled for a fraction of a second, surprise flashing across his features. “Just the tip?” he repeated, his voice hushed.

You nodded frantically, your face burning with a mix of shame and desperate need. “Yeah. Please. Just the tip.”

A groan ripped from his chest, a sound of pure agony and ecstasy, he could have cum right then and there. “Fuck. Okay. Okay, baby. Just the tip. I promise. For my brave girl."

He shifted his position slightly, aligning himself perfectly with you. Holding your eyes, he applied a gentle pressure. The blunt head of his cock began to press against your tight entrance. "Relax for me my love, let me in."

There was a moment of resistance, a stretching burn that made you gasp, and then suddenly he was inside. Just an inch, maybe even less.

The feeling was immense. A fullness, a stretching heat you’d never known. You cried out, a sharp sound that melted into a long, low mewl.

A wave of emotion crashed over you. The vulnerability, the trust, the sheer physical intensity of it was too much, and a choked sob escaped your throat. Hot tears welled in your eyes and spilled over, tracking down your cheeks rapidly.

Jiung froze instantly. “Hey, hey,” he whispered, his voice heavy with concern. He brushed your tears away with his thumbs, his own body trembling to keep still inside you. “Does it hurt? We can stop right now.”

You shook your head frantically, your inner muscles fluttering around that incredible, invasive inch of him. “N-no… it’s… it’s just… a lot.” You managed a watery smile. “Good. It’s so good.”

He searched your eyes, finding only truth, and his expression transformed into one of awe. He dropped a kiss on your tear streaked cheek, then your lips. “I know, baby, I know,” he murmured. “It’s overwhelming. You’re so perfect. So fucking tight. So hot inside. Taking me so well, my perfect girl. Just breathe for me.”

You did, drawing in a ragged breath. The initial sting was already fading, replaced by a deep, throbbing ache of pleasure. He was inside you. A part of him was connected to a part of you.

“Okay?” he whispered.

“Okay,” you breathed. “Move… please move.”

He withdrew slowly until he was completely out of you, cock pressed to your fluttering entrance, then pushed back in that same shallow, careful inch.

The drag was exquisite. Each time he slid back in, a fresh sob hitched in your chest, tears of overwhelming pleasure now mixing with the earlier emotional release. He vehemently kept his promise, never sinking deeper, but with each thrust, he picked up speed.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his own breath coming in painful ragged pants. “Cry for me, princess. Let me see how good it feels. You’re such a pretty mess for me. My messy, perfect dirty girl.” His words were a lifeline as you clung to every single one. “Fuck, you’re tight. Just squeezing the tip so sweetly. You wanna milk me dry just like this? Hmm? Gonna make me come from just this little bit of your tight pussy?”

His words sent a series of spasms through you. You were unraveling completely, sobbing openly now with each thrust. You've never been this close to release before, your fingers never being enough.

With a groan that was pure lust, he pulled all the way out, his slick cock leaving your fluttering entrance just to drag the swollen head back through your soaked folds, painting your clit with a thick stripe of your combined wetness.

“Yes! God, yes!” You cried out at the new rhythm.

He slid his cock head back to your entrance and pushed, filling that aching space once more. You cried out, the relief instantaneous and profound. He gave you three, four, five of those perfect, small thrusts, until he pulled out again to rub against you.

He used his cock like that, sliding the length of it through your drenched slit, from your clit all the way back to your entrance, coating himself and spreading your arousal everywhere.

He watched with fascination. "So messy. Making such a mess on my cock huh?"

In. Out and up. In. Out and up. It was a cycle of tension and relief that built upon itself with every pass.

You couldn't take it any more. The pressure was too much to take.

"I can't!" You choked out. "It's too much!"

“You can, my love, you can do it. Come on, cum all over my cock. This sweet, perfect cunt. I love you so much. You can do it.”

The pressure broke without warning. Your orgasm crashed over you, violent and all-consuming. Your inner muscles clamped down viscously around the invading tip of him as a silent scream tore through you, your body convulsing under his.

The feeling of your clamping heat was his undoing. With a raw moan of pure pleasure, he followed you over. You felt the hot, intimate pulse of his cum inside you mixing with your own.

He collapsed onto his forearms above you, too weak to hold out any longer, burying his face in your neck as you both shuddered through the aftershocks. His body was heavy and warm as it relaxed against yours.

After a moment, he lifted his head. He was still inside you, that tender connection maintained. He looked down at your pretty face, at your tear-streaks, your swollen lips, your fucked-out expression, and his eyes shone with a love so fierce it stole the last of your breath.

He leaned down and kissed you so deep you felt it in your soul. When he pulled back, he whispered against your lips, a vow for the future, thick with promise and commitment.

"Can't wait to make love to you."

—

Taglist: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx, @missingjulia , @hxraiiii @mingijelly, @bluedenebii, @kukkurookkoo, @tilly-death @mysweetjongseob, @lycxee @willowedjelly, @arw217 , @l5byrinth @tinastar13 @evemds @jellyybelly @elmolovesw33d @missmaiamay @stxrxyyz @seonghwaswifeuuuu @happilyeverafterforme @ozzysoatsolivesandpasta @vvalever @oyasumiaikko @chandlxa @choxochip @ji-eun-bun @cryptothecat @izzyreadsstuff @ava-lazaza @princessthelsa @leleluvrs

기호. KEEHO

테오. THEO

지웅. JIUNG

인탁. INTAK

소울. SOUL

종섭. JONGSEOB

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

(ran out of image space so ignore this small divider...)

© r3chas ⭑.ᐟ do not reupload / copy my work

You'd considered ducking into a random bathroom stall more than once, but the idea of a quick, unsatisfying orgasm wasn't what you craved. You wanted to take your time, to spread out on your bed and really indulge yourself.

But to your dismay, as you walked into the living room, there was something else to already worry about.

You froze the moment the door clicked shut behind you. The living room dark and dead, but faint noises captured the atmosphere. There was a low, rhythmic sound, punctuated by heavy, ragged breathing. Your heart skipped a beat, not from fear, but from recognition.

Intak? He was home? He said he had work today… clearly not.

And he was definitely doing something he shouldn't be doing in your shared living space, or at least, not with his door open…?

Your first instinct was annoyance — you had been counting on having the place to yourself. But as you stood there, listening, that annoyance transformed into something else entirely. The sounds were unmistakable. The wet slap of skin on skin and his breathy gasps followed by low, desperate groans — he was jerking off, and from the sound of it, he was really going at it.

You dropped your bag in the hallway silently, your curiosity warring with the sudden spike of heat that flared in your lower belly. You knew you should go to your room, give him privacy, but the sound was magnetic. It pulled you forward, step by silent step across the hardwood floor, toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms. Your pulse quickened with each movement, your own arousal intensifying as you got closer to the source of those delicious sounds.

You'd heard Intak before, of course. The walls in this apartment were paper-thin, and more than once you'd wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of him pleasuring himself in the next room. Those nights, you'd lie there in the darkness, your hand creeping between your legs, matching your rhythm to his, imagining what he looked like or what he was thinking about. You'd always wondered if he knew you could hear him, if maybe he was doing it on purpose, putting on a show for you through the walls.

As you got closer, the noises became clearer, more distinct. And then, words. "Fuck... yes," He groaned, low and wrecked. But it was his next words that turned your blood to fire. "Just like that pretty girl... please..."

Your pussy clenched, a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you. He was thinking about someone?? Who was he thinking about? Girl from work? An idol? Actress? Your mind raced through the possibilities even as your feet carried you closer to his bedroom door. It was slightly cracked opne, like he didn't have the power in him to shut it all the way. Stupid, careless Intak — so lost in his fantasy that he hadn't even bothered. You pressed yourself against the wall just outside his room, your heart pounding so hard you were sure he'd hear it. Then, slowly and carefully, you leaned forward just enough to peek inside.

The sight that greeted you nearly made you gasp out loud.

He was sitting in his desk chair, head thrown back. His shirt was discarded on the floor, leaving his back and shoulders exposed, muscles shifting as he moved. You could see the flush running down his body, the way his shoulders flexed with each movement of his arm. His hand was moving furiously between his legs, his hips jerking up to meet his strokes. Even from the side, you could see how desperate he was, how completely lost in his pleasure.

"Fuck, so good," He whined, his voice breaking on a sob. “God, just like that YN.”

Your breath caught in your throat. ….

"Please," He continued, his voice ragged and needy.

Holy shit. He was thinking about you. The realization hit you like a physical blow, sending a shockwave of pure lust straight to your core. Intak, your life long friend and now roommate, the one who always left his dishes in the sink and borrowed your shampoo without asking, was jerking himself raw while fantasizing about you and your mouth on his cock.

You should have been angry. You should have slammed the door oprn and confronted him... But instead, you felt a dark, hungry satisfaction curl in your stomach. All those nights you'd spent touching yourself to the sound of him, wondering if he ever thought about you — and here was your answer. He wanted you.

You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms, and watched him. Your pussy was throbbing now, your clit so swollen and sensitive you could feel it pulsing with your heartbeat. You pressed your thighs together, trying to get some friction, some relief, but it only made it worse.

He was completely lost in it. His hand moved faster, the slick sounds growing louder, filling the small room. You could see his abs contracting with every thrust of his hips, and the way his whole body was tensing up. By the way his breathing had gone ragged followed by desperate little whimpers escaping his throat, you could tell he was close.

He gasped, his hand speeding up, the slick sounds growing louder, filling the small room. "Just like that.. Fuck… Please.. please.."

The begging did something to you.

Hearing him so desperate, needy, and completely undone by the thought of you — it was intoxicating. It made you feel powerful, desired, and wanted in a way that made your head spin.

Your hand moved almost unconsciously to your breast, squeezing through your shirt, your nipple hard and aching under your palm. You watched as his movements became more frantic while his free hand gripped the armrest of his chair so hard his knuckles were white. His hips were lifting off the seat with each stroke, fucking into his fist like it was your pussy.

You couldn't take it anymore. The throbbing between your legs was demanding attention, and seeing him like this — vulnerable and filthy — was an opportunity you couldn't pass up. You stepped into the room, your socked feet making no sound on the carpet. Your heart was racing, adrenaline and arousal mixing into a heady cocktail that made you feel bold, reckless.

"Intak," You said, your voice low but firm.

He screamed. It was a high-pitched, undignified yelp as he scrambled to cover himself, knocking his gaming microphone off the desk in the process. It clattered to the floor with a crash that seemed deafening in the sudden silence. He spun, eyes wide with terror, his hands frantically trying to pull his sweatpants up over his erection.

But it was useless — his cock was too hard and big as it strained against the fabric. He looked like a guilty puppy, frozen in the headlights of your gaze.

"Holy shit!—I thought you were—" He stammered, his face burning a bright red that rivaled the flush on his chest. His eyes were wild, panicked, darting around the room like he was looking for an escape route.

"Hm," You hummed, cutting him off as you stepped further into the room. You walked toward him slowly, deliberately, watching him shrink back into his chair. "Was that my name I heard?”

His face, already red, somehow managed to go even redder. "No–.”

"Don't lie to me." You shook your head, your voice sharp. You stopped right in front of his chair, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his skin. You could smell him — sweat and something disgustingly male. It made your head spin, yet your pussy clenched with need. "I heard you."

He covered his face with his hands, groaning in misery. "I'm sorry. I'm a creep. I'm disgusting. I'll move out, just — please don't hate me. Please."

The desperation in his voice sent a thrill through you. He thought he was in trouble? He thought you were disgusted. He had no idea that you were just as turned on as he was — that your panties were soaked through and that you'd been fantasizing about this exact scenario for months.

You stepped right between his legs now, close enough that your knees were almost touching his thighs. You reached out to grab his wrists and pull his hands away from his face.

He resisted at first, but you were insistent, tugging until he finally let you pull his hands down. He looked up at you, eyes watery and filled with shame, but beneath that, you saw the hunger. He was still hard, you could see the tent in his sweatpants, practically vibrating with need. His cock was straining against the fabric, a wet spot forming where the head was leaking pre-cum.

"Hate you?" You laughed softly, your thumbs stroking over the sensitive skin of his inner wrists. You could feel his pulse racing under your fingers. "I didn't say I hated it."

He blinked, confused. "What?"

"Walls are thin, sweet Intak," You purred, leaning down so you were inches from him. You could see every detail of his face — the way his pupils were blown wide with arousal, and the way his lips were parted and trembling, the sheen of sweat on his forehead. "This isn't the first time I've heard you."

His jaw dropped. "You... what?"

"Mmhmm." You hummed, letting go of one of his wrists to trail your fingers up his bare arm. His skin was hot, almost feverish… goosebumps rising in the wake of your touch. "I've heard you plenty of times. Late at night, when you think I'm asleep. Early in the morning, when you think I've already left for work. You're not as quiet as you think you are."

"I–" He breathed, his eyes squeezing shut. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I thought—"

"And I never said anything." You continued, your eyes trailing down his chest to the waistband of his pants. His chest was heaving, his nipples hard little points. "Because sometimes, lying in my bed at night listening to you... it helped me get off, too."

His eyes snapped open, staring at you in disbelief. "You touched yourself thinking about me?"

"All the time." You admitted, your fingernails scratching lightly against his skin. He hissed at the contact, his hips bucking involuntarily. "I'd lie there in the dark, my hand between my legs, listening to you moan and imagining it was me making you feel that good. Imagining your cock inside me, stretching me open, filling me up."

Intak let out a shuddering breath, his eyes darkening as the words sank in. "Fuck," he whispered. "Are you serious right now? Because if you're messing with me—"

"But listening isn't enough anymore." You interrupted, your voice dropping to a husky whisper. "I want the real thing. I want to feel you… Want you to fuck me until I can't walk straight."

"Yeah?" He whispered, like he was afraid you'd vanish if he spoke too loud. “Please, if you're joking—“

"Do I look like I'm joking?" You reached down and palmed him through his sweatpants, feeling the solid, heavy heat of him. He was rock hard, his cock thick and hot even through the fabric. He hissed, his head falling back against the chair, his hands gripping the armrests.

"Besides... you’ve stolen my panties, haven’t you?"

He froze, his eyes snapping open to meet yours. There was no point in denying it. You could see the guilt written all over his face, mixed with arousal and fear. "I..."

"Hm." You said, a slow smile spreading across your face. You gave him a firm squeeze that made him whine, a high-pitched sound of need that went straight to your clit. "You don't think I notice when my dirty panties go missing from my laundry? My black lacey ones? Or the pink cotton ones with a little bow? My red thong?"

"I'm sorry." He breathed, looking up at you with those wide, pleading eyes. "I just couldn't help it. You smell so good. I know it's fucked up.”

"It is fucked up," You agreed, your hand moving in slow circles over his cock. You could feel it twitching under your palm, how desperately he needed relief. "But I like it. I like knowing you wanted me so badly you had to steal my panties. What did you do with them, Intak? Did you wrap them around your cock while you jerked off? Did you hold them to your face and breathe me in while you came?"

"Y..yes" He admitted, his voice breaking. "Both. I'm sorry.”

"Don't apologize." You said, sinking to your knees in front of him. The carpet was rough against your knees, but you didn't care. You were eye-level with his crotch now, could see the outline of his cock straining against his sweatpants, could see the wet spot spreading. "I think it's sweet."

He stared at you, mesmerized, as you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" You asked, tugging the fabric down. He lifted his hips to help you, and then his cock sprang free, slapping against his stomach.

Fuck. He was way bigger than you'd imagined. Thick and long, the head flushed an angry red and leaking pre-cum. You could see a vein running along the underside, pulsing with his heartbeat. Your mouth watered at the sight.

You wrapped your hand around the base, marveling at the weight of him in your palm. He was hot, almost burning, and so hard you could feel him throbbing.

"I've touched myself to the idea of something like this countless times." You whispered, leaning in to lick a stripe up the underside of his shaft. He cried out, his hands flying to your hair, tangling in the strands. The taste of him exploded on your tongue. "Just hope you live up to the standards in my head."

"I will." He promised, his voice wrecked. "I'll do whatever you want. Please, I... please."

You didn't make him wait any longer. You leaned forward and took him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and sucking hard. He hissed your name while his hips jerked up off the chair, forcing his cock deeper into your throat. You relaxed your jaw, letting him fuck your mouth, enjoying the desperate, needy sounds he was making.

"Oh fuck– fuck," He chanted, his fingers tightening in your hair and holding on like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. "Feels so good–"

You hummed around him, the vibrations making him gasp. You took him deeper, until the head of his cock hit the back of your throat. You swallowed around him, fighting your gag reflex, and he nearly came apart.

"Wait, wait, wait–" He gasped, tugging gently on your hair. "I don't want to yet. I want—I need—"

You pulled off with a pop, a string of saliva connecting your lips to the head of his cock. You looked up at him, your hand still working away while your lips were swollen and wet with a smile. "What do you need, Intak?"

"I need to taste you," He said, his voice desperate. “Need to know if you taste as good as I imagine."

Heat flooded through you at his words. "Stand up," You ordered.

He scrambled to obey, nearly tripping over his sweatpants pooled around his ankles. He kicked them off, standing before you completely naked, his cock jutting out proudly. You moved to sit on the edge of the bed, right in front of him. His eyes were locked on you, watching your every move with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your shorts. Slowly, teasingly, you shimmied them down your hips, along with your panties. You kicked them off to the side, leaving you bare from the waist down. The cool air hit your overheated pussy, making you gasp.

His eyes locked onto your exposed pussy, his mouth falling open slightly. You could see his cock twitching, leaking onto his thigh. "Fuck," He breathed. "You're so wet."

"All day, I’ve been." You admitted, leaning back on your hands and spreading your legs wide, giving him an unobstructed view as he got on his knees.

"Okay, stop staring and put that mouth to use."

Intak didn't hesitate, quickly he surged forward, burying his face in your cunt with a groan that vibrated through your entire body. His tongue was hot and frantic, lapping at your folds like a starving man. You gasped, your head falling back as he found your clit almost immediately, sucking it into his mouth.

"Oh, fuck," You moaned, your hands finding his hair. It was soft, slightly damp with sweat, and you gripped it tightly, holding him against you. "Just like that. Good boy."

He whimpered against your skin, the praise spurring him on. He ate you out with a single-minded intensity, his nose rubbing against your clit as his tongue plunged inside you. He was messy and sloppy – you could feel his saliva mixing with your own arousal as it dripped down your thighs, and it was perfect. He was showing how much he's wanted this, how much he's needed you.

His hands came up to grip your thighs, spreading you wider, holding you open for his mouth. His fingers dug into your flesh, hard enough to leave bruises, but you didn't care. The slight pain only added to the pleasure, making everything more intense.

"That's it," You panted, your hips starting to rock against his face. "Fuck, dont ’stop–."

He moaned against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core. He pulled back just enough to gasp, "I've imagined this every single night."

A moan ripped from your throat as you tugged on his hair. "Show me what you've been dreaming about."

He dove back in with renewed enthusiasm, his tongue working your clit in tight circles. You could feel the orgasm building, that familiar tension coiling in your lower tummmy. But you didn't want to cum yet. You wanted to draw this out, and savor every second of having him on his knees for you.

He pulled back slightly, gasping for air, his chin glistening with your sex. He looked up at you, his eyes glassy and unfocused, completely fucked-out. His lips were swollen and red, his cheeks flushed. He looked absolutely wrecked, and you'd barely even started.

"You're so perfect," You panted, stroking his hair back from his forehead. Your fingers were gentle now, soothing. "Taste good?"

"I love it," He rasped, his voice hoarse. "Love how you taste. Love the sounds you make." He dove back in, his tongue flattening against your clit, licking in long, slow strokes that made your toes curl.

You looked down and noticed his hips moving, bucking forward rhythmically. He was humping the air, seeking friction for his neglected cock, but he didn't stop licking you. He was obsessed, pussy drunk, barely coming up for air as he worked you toward the edge.

"Look at me," You begged, tugging on his hair.

He pulled his mouth away just enough to look up at you, his tongue still darting out to catch your juices. The sight of him He looked like he was worshipping you, like eating your pussy was the greatest privilege he'd ever been given.

"You're doing so well." You praised him, and watched his eyes light up. "Making me feel so good."

He moaned, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment before snapping back open. He didn't want to miss a second of this or stop looking at you. His tongue went back to work, lapping at your entrance, gathering your wetness before moving back up to your clit.

"I'm close," You warned him, your thighs starting to tremble. The tension was building, coiling tighter and tighter. He doubled his efforts, sucking on your clit and sliding two fingers inside you, curling them just right. They slid in easily, your pussy wet and ready for him. He found that perfect spot inside you that made you see stars, and pressed against it.

"NghFuck—“ You cried out, your back arching off the bed.

He kept his fingers right where they were, pumping them in and out while his mouth worked your clit. His other hand was still gripping your thigh, holding you open, and you could feel him trembling with the effort of holding himself back. His cock was probably aching, desperate for attention, but he didn't stop. He was completely focused on you and making you cum.

"Intak,” You gasped, your fingers tightening in his hair.

He groaned against you, the vibrations pushing you over the edge. You cried out, your body shaking as the orgasm tore through you. Your walls clamped down on his fingers, your thighs trying to close around his head, but he held you open, and licked you through it. He lapped up everything you gave him, moaning like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted.

The pleasure seemed to go on forever, wave after wave crashing over you. Your vision went white as your whole body tensed and then released. As you came down, panting heavily, your body still twitching with aftershocks, you pushed him back gently.

He pulled away reluctantly, his fingers sliding out of you. Intak looked dazed, his lips puffy amd face shining with your arousal. He brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean, and the sight made your pussy clench all over again.

"Shit–" You breathed. "That was..."

"Amazing," He finished, his voice rough. "Taste so good. Can I do it again?"

You laughed, breathless. "Later. Right now, I need you inside me."

His eyes widened, cock twitching visibly. "Really?"

You rolled your eyes before you grabbed his shoulders, hauling him up from the floor and onto the bed. He climbed up eagerly, his body covering yours. You could feel his cock, hard and hot, pressing against your thigh.

“Need you so bad.” He let out a breath, his forehead resting against yours. "I've wanted this for so long."

"Prove it." You whispered, reaching between your bodies to wrap your hand around his cock. He gasped at the contact, his hips jerking forward. You guided him to your entrance, rubbing the head of his cock through your folds, coating him in your wetness. He was trembling, his whole body tight with anticipation.

Intak pushed forward, sinking into you inch by inch. You groaned at the stretch, the feeling of fullness overwhelming after so long wanting this. He felt huge, hot and hard and pulsing inside you. Your pussy stretched to accommodate him, the slight burn only adding to the pleasure.

He choked out your name, his eyes squeezing shut. "So tight. Feels better than I ever imagined."

When he was finally buried to the hilt, he stopped, his forehead still resting against yours, his breathing ragged. You could feel him throbbing as you wrapped your legs around his waist, your heels digging into his lower back.

Intak started to thrust, slow and deep at first, savoring the feeling. Each stroke dragged against your walls, hitting spots inside you that made you gasp. Able to feel every ridge, vein, and the way his cock curved just right to hit your special spot.

"So pretty." He panted, his hips moving in a steady rhythm. "So perfect.“

"God, go harder–" You asked, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Something in him snapped and his control completely shattered as he started pounding into you, his hips snapping against yours with wet, slapping sounds. The bed creaked beneath you, the headboard hitting the wall with each thrust. He was whimpering with every thrust, high-pitched sounds of pleasure that went straight to your head.

"Yes, yes, yes!" You chanted, meeting him thrust for thrust. Your bodies were slick with sweat, sliding against each other. You could feel another orgasm building already, the pressure mounting with each stroke of his cock inside you.

"You're so beautiful." He whimpered before you pulled him down for a kiss. Your lips crashed together, messily. You immediately tasted yourself on his tongue, musky and sweet while he moaned into your mouth, his hips still stuttering as he lost his rhythm for a moment.

You reached between your bodies, your fingers finding your clit. You rubbed in tight circles, the added stimulation making you cry out. Your pussy clenched around him, and he groaned, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "So close," You gasped. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."

"I won't," He promised, his hips pounding into you relentlessly. "Gonna make you feel so good, promise."

The pressure was building. Your whole body was tense, every muscle coiled tight. Your fingers worked your clit frantically, chasing that peak. "I'm gonna come," He warned you, his voice breaking.

"I can't hold it. You feel too good."

"Not yet," You gasped, your fingers moving faster. You were right on the edge, so close you could taste it. "Wait for me. Just a little longer."

He let out a sob, burying his face in your neck, his hips pounding into you relentlessly. "I'm trying, I'm trying..”

"Almost," You panted, your body starting to shake.

And when you were there, your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train. You cried out, your back arching off the bed as your pussy clamped down around him like a vice. The pleasure was overwhelming, whiting out your vision once again and making your whole body convulse.

Intak pulsed deep inside you as he spilled everything himself. You felt it — hot and thick, filling you completely. Your walls clamped down around him, milking him and drawing out every last drop.

"Fuuuuck." He whimpered against your neck, his hips still moving in shallow thrusts, riding out his orgasm while buried deep inside you. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as he came, your legs locked around his waist, keeping him exactly where he was. You didn't want him to pull out, or lose the feeling of him inside you.

He collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving against yours, his cock still buried deep. For a long moment, you both laid there, breathing heavily, your bodies intertwined. You could feel him softening inside you, and the warmth of his release coating your inner walls.

Eventually, he lifted his head to look at you, his eyes glazed and satisfied. "God." he breathed. "That was..."

"Yeah," you agreed, running your fingers down his back. You were a mess, covered in sweat, your hair sticking to your forehead. But you felt amazing, satisfied in a way you hadn't been in months.

And the feeling of him still inside you, even as he softened, was absolutely perfect.

💌 mika’s message! hi. an intak smut was long overdue. guys o feel sick i kinda need thag but we’re just gonna OKAY SHUT UP. THANK YOU FOR 600 FOLLOWERS BTW. IM GEEKED. YHANK U 😭😭💗💗💗💗💗💗