ଘo(∗ ❛ั ᵕ ❛ั )੭່ Call me berry~ I love anything pastel pink and girly! ₍ᐢ._.ᐢ₎♡ I'm Lee Know's age ♡ This is my comfort space place (⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)/ ♡ I like & reblog fics that I love/adore ♡ I love to laugh ♡ she/her~
side blog @berryberrysweetz
｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ I think spicy fics are cute and fluffy fics makes my heart swell bigger｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ
Sometimes I'll post my thoughts about things that make me go feral hahah ☆ﾟ°˖* ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ like I blame chan cuz now I have a soft daddy kink opps (๑•̀ᗝ•́)૭
٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و My fav kpop group is skz so most of the fics I read & reblog are skz related but I like other groups too like ateez ♡ Bias: I love all skz members but chan, felix and hyunjin have a special place in my heart (๑'ᵕ'๑)⸝ ♡
Lil Notes♡
I try my very best to give my thoughts/feedbacks on every fics I reblog but there are times where I get overwhelmed with overthinking, organizing and probably too shy to say something so I end up just putting my tag to bookmark so I apologize for that :(!
**I will instant block you if your pf is blank or you look like a bot! Also if your blog doesn't have anything related to well, K-pop or at least similar interests (._.) that's a block too. I'd be most comfortable if your page is related to kpop so sorry (T-T). This is my space and comfort, and I get to decide who follows my page**
**my fic reccs are mainly +18 so if you're a minor please leave my blog**
♡Tags:Navigation♡
All the tags created are for me! But you may click on them if you like! Contains all my favorite fics & recommendations~ even better if we share the same kinks (｡-∀-)♪(///∇///)
Description of tags to remind me what they're for (*＞∇＜)ﾉ lol I realized my tags aren't correct but that's okay
brrbrrytanot8skz~ any fic that involves all of skz (there's some fics that may not be comfortable for some so scroll away plz!♡)
brrbrrytanchanreads~ any fics of Chan♡
brrbrrytanfelixreads~ any fics of Felix♡
brrbrrytanhyunjinreads~ any fics of Hyunjin♡
brrbrrytanleeknowreads~ any fics of Lee know♡
brrbrrytanjisungreads~ any fics of Han♡
brrbrrytanchangbinreads~ any fics of Changbin♡
brrybrrytanseungminreads~ any fics of Seungmin♡
brrybrrytanjeonginreads~ any fics of I.N♡ he's forever 16 in my head so very rare for me to read fics of him
brrbrrytancomfortreads~ fics that give me A LOT of comfort, fluff!!, have sweet endings, and/or bring me lots of comfort about my kink space (*‘v‘ *)
brrbrrytanhehehreads~ any fics that are from different groups (such as ateez & txt♡(plus skz if it involves more than one member (up to +3 max)) that are very spicy/or daddy kink fics ﾟ+.ﾟ(´▽`人)ﾟ+.ﾟ
brrybrrytandsnt~ dsnt stands for drabbles, shorts, and thoughts! I thought it'd be nice to create a tag so I can show some love to these types of reads more♡
brrybrrytanaudios/?s~ anything audio/links (nsfw) related and non fitting categories ^^
brrybrrytanthoughts~.....just skz hard thoughts heheh
💌 from mika! oh how i lauvvvv fanfic logic 😊 also this is projection and reflection of me and my brother’s relationship and we actually get along so #Hi , anyways! Bye :3
— you were supposed to be his muse. turns out you were his obsession.
pairing: manga artist!hyunjin x f!reader, roommates to lovers ? genre/tags: college au, smut, mentions of masturbation, soft dom!hyunjin, fingering, some degradation/praise kink, orgasm control, unprotected s*x, creampie words: 4.8k (this was supposed to be shorter idk what happened lmaoo)
[ note. ] — uhhh surprise, i’m back….? (we’ll see how long this’ll last) but i’ve had this idea in my brain for a while now and i js finished it so i’m hoping you guys enjoy this one ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!
you don’t even remember how you ended up roommates with hyunjin. maybe someone dropped the ball in housing. it’s possible your brain skipped over the part of the application that said co-ed artist dorms only. or it could just be the universe decided you were getting a little too comfortable with life and needed to be humbled, violently.
either way, it’s been six months.
and at this point, hyunjin’s presence is as constant and familiar as the hum of your desk fan. always there, in the background— sketching, scribbling, perpetually shirtless, sprawled out like a tragic oil painting across your shared living room floor in a sea of crumpled paper, tangled wires, pastel smudges, and broken pencil tips. graphite dust clings to his fingers, to his cheekbones, to the cuffs of his sweats like he’s more sketch than human.
he mumbles under his breath about deadlines and “noodle anatomy,” so softly you almost think you imagined it. at other times, he just stares at the ceiling, unmoving, as if some divine inspiration might drip down from the drywall. and every now and then, he groans so dramatically it sounds like he’s dying, only for you to find out he’s just trying to draw a bent knee.
he’s quiet. not shy, and not in a way that makes you feel obligated to fill the silence. just… contained. coiled. the kind of quiet that holds weight— his thoughts are vivid and volatile, too loud to voice, so he seals them between the pages of his sketchbooks. it’s safer that way. nothing escapes. nothing catches fire.
you’ve never seen him bring anyone home.
not once. not even after those late-night figure drawing classes, or the weekend studio exhibitions where people tend to get a little too wine drunk and giggly. you’ve never heard him talk about crushes or hookups or even eye someone on the quad. never even caught him flirting. he barely acknowledges strangers in passing, doesn’t register compliments from the girls who sometimes stop to peek through the dorm windows and whisper about “that one hot art guy.”
he doesn’t go out much either, never really parties, barely shows up to campus events, and treats grocery runs like hostile field missions. most of the time, he’s holed up in his room with the door cracked open, back hunched over his tablet or sketchpad, headphones in, eyes glazed over with focus.
there are moments he doesn’t respond when you speak. you’ll knock, pass his room more than once, and the only hint he’s still breathing is the dim glow of his monitor. you pause, staring in, wondering— not for the first time— how long he’s been cooped up in there. whether he’s eaten. whether he’s slept. whether he’s working on something normal, or… something else entirely.
because you know what he draws.
he told you. casually. one night, when you were both cross-legged on the floor, splitting leftover takeout and surrounded by plastic chopsticks and empty bubble tea cups. you asked what his senior portfolio theme was, expecting something pretentious, or maybe poetic.
“manga,” he said, chewing absently.
“oh, cool,” you replied. “what genre?”
“ecchi.”
you raise a brow, confused. “…what’s that?”
he looked up slowly, eyes wide, expression borderline unreadable. “tasteful porn.”
you immediately choked on your noodles.
and that was that.
you never brought it up again. but the image of him calmly saying “tasteful porn” with the straightest face lives in your head rent free. still makes your ears burn if you think about it too long.
what’s worse is that you shouldn’t even be surprised.
but you were. maybe because hyunjin doesn’t quite fit the mold of some guy who spends most his nights hunched over his tablet, painstakingly rendering the way sheer fabric sticks to flushed skin. the way lips part, the way spines arch. he’s too pretty, ethereal even— too clean to be that filthy in private. soft jawline, delicate wrists, lips always stained pink from strawberry pocky. he uses cherry blossom shampoo. wears fuzzy socks. once, you caught him microwaving hot chocolate at two in the morning while humming the sailor moon theme song under his breath.
by all logic, he should be drowning in girls. flirty art majors, clumsy lit students, curious econ girls who like the idea of a mysterious artist boyfriend. he should have people throwing themselves at him, sliding into his dms, leaving their numbers on napkins.
but he’s not.
and maybe, just maybe, that’s because hyunjin is a total, certified goon.
the type of guy who probably jerks off to his own hentai panels with one hand in his sweats and the other still holding his apple pencil so he can make edits mid-stroke.
the type who’s too obsessed with his imaginary girls to even look at a real one.
and unfortunately for you— you’re one of them.
+
you agreed to model for his senior art portfolio last month.
he’d asked you during one of your late-night kitchen run-ins, voice low and uncertain, sketchpad balanced on one knee while he waited for his ramen to finish spinning in the microwave.
“it’s not explicit explicit,” he said, peeking up at you from under his lashes, his thumb absently smudging the corner of a half-finished eye on the page. “it’s more suggestive. tasteful.” his tone wavered between hopeful and rehearsed, like he’d been planning to ask you for a while but hadn’t quite worked up the nerve until now.
“think… moody lighting,” he added, as if that would somehow soften the blow. “lace. maybe a garter belt.”
you blinked. “a garter belt?” the words came out with an airy laugh, light and teasing, a little incredulous but not entirely opposed.
he didn’t flinch. instead, he perked up with faux earnestness, flipping his pencil between his fingers like a conductor’s baton, brows lifted in dramatic flourish. “it’s for the drama,” he insisted, as if that explained anything at all. as if drama alone justified sketching someone in lingerie.
yet somehow… you ended up agreeing.
you needed the extra cash, your campus job barely covered groceries, and your last textbook rental had drained what little remained in your savings. but part of you was flattered, too. no one had ever asked to draw you before, and definitely not like that.
but if you were really being honest, a small part of you liked the way he looked at you when you posed.
he made you feel like art. something worth preserving, not just for the shape of your body or the softness of your skin, but for the way you existed in stillness. the rhythm of your breath, the curve of your spine, the light pooling into the hollows of your collarbones. he watched with quiet fixation, eyes moving from page to skin, jaw clenched in concentration, and everytime his pencil scratched against the paper, it’d sent a phantom shiver down your spine.
he made you feel beautiful.
you hadn’t realized you were making a mistake.
not until tonight, when he’d left for his night class and you were rummaging behind his desk in search of your charger, the one you always forgot in his room. you’d been reaching behind a pile of books and folders when your elbow bumped something, knocking it to the floor with a dull, soft thud.
a sketchbook.
black, unmarked, a little worn around the edges. it didn’t look important or any different from the others he always left lying around. you bent down without thinking, planning to toss it back where it came from.
but it had fallen open.
you froze. you told yourself you wouldn’t look, that it wasn’t yours to see.
and then you looked anyway.
curiosity, or something worse, pulled you toward the page.
and there you were.
not soft. not modest. not the dimly lit, “tasteful” pose you’d assumed he’d capture.
you were drawn sprawled out, every inch of you on display. legs spread wide, toes curling into fabric you recognized as your own sheets. your back arched off a pillow from your bed. one hand gripping the edge of the blanket. the other buried deep between your thighs. your face was flushed, lips parted, eyes hazy, mouth frozen in a moan that felt way too specific to be imagined.
and it was detailed. painfully so.
you could see the shading where sweat would gather. the tension in your calves. the wrinkle in your brow. your own hair drawn strand by strand, fanned out like a halo.
your stomach flipped. heat bloomed somewhere low and unsteady.
you turned the page, almost on instinct, heart already pounding.
there were more.
you on your knees, spine arched, wrists tucked behind your back. your head tilted at just the right angle to show off your throat, the delicate notch above your collarbone. the lingerie you wore last week— sheer lace cups, dainty silk bows, garters clipped to thigh-highs—recreated in uncanny, microscopic detail. every clasp, dimple in your skin, subtle ripple of imagined pleasure inked in with a hunger that felt… dangerous.
you stared at the pages, transfixed. breath caught somewhere in your chest, hands beginning to tremble. you hadn’t meant to look, hadn’t planned to turn the first page, let alone the second… but once you did, you couldn’t stop. every drawing felt intimate, obsessive, memorized. the way he rendered you with such aching precision—each curve of your body, every fold of lace, every imagined tremble of your thighs, made it nearly impossible to look away.
it was clear he hadn’t just sketched you from reference; he’d studied you, remembered you. poured hours into capturing the parting of your mouth when you sigh, the subtle shift of your hips in that particular set of lingerie, the way your body folds, stretches, and exists on the page, alive and familiar.
you were still staring when you heard the jingle of his keys at the door. your heart clenched instantly, breath stuttering as you snapped upright, hands suddenly clammy and slick with heat. your thighs instinctively pressed together before you could stop yourself. there was panic, yes, caught red-handed with something you were never meant to see— but tangled beneath it, humming in your veins like a low, slow current, was something far darker. not dread or guilt. something warmer. hungrier. the realization bloomed slowly and thickly at the back of your throat, and you swallowed it down like a secret; what you felt wasn’t entirely fear. it was want.
the door clicks open behind you, followed by the soft creak of the hinge, the muted scuff of sneakers hitting hardwood, and some more indistinct shuffling near the entryway as he drops his things. hyunjin steps inside, expression dulled with exhaustion, shoulders loose, hoodie slipping off one side of his frame. he moves like he always does after a long day— quiet, fluid, like he’s still half inside his head.
until he sees what’s in your lap.
his sketchbook.
his secret.
you.
he halts mid-step.
for a second, he doesn’t say anything. no words, no movement, not even a blink. his eyes trace the shape of the moleskin cover, the way your fingers are curled around the edge of a page, your gaze is wide and locked onto his, like you’ve been caught doing something unspeakable. maybe, because you have.
but the reaction you expect never comes. there’s no stammering apology, flustered excuses, desperate attempt at backpedaling or some pathetic plea to forget what you saw.
instead, he smiles.
and it’s not the kind of nervous, sheepish grin you might’ve imagined if this moment had played out in your head. no. it’s something far more sinister. cooler. slow-spreading and deeply smug, as if this was inevitable and he’s known all along.
“you weren’t supposed to see that,” he says, voice low and smooth, like he’s just commenting on the weather.
he walks toward you with the kind of unhurried confidence that makes your throat go instantly dry, his footsteps soft against the floorboards, eyes never leaving yours. he stops just in front you where you’re still frozen, sketchbook heavy in your hands, heart beating loud enough to feel it in your teeth.
“but…”
his head tilts slightly as he crouches in front of you, long fingers curling over the edge of the cushion near your knee. the shift in posture shouldn’t feel as intimate as it does, but it roots you in place. he’s close— close enough that you can see the faint flecks of lead still dusted on his fingertips, the faint ink smudge on the side of his hand, the crescent of dried eraser shavings caught beneath his nail.
“…since you have…”
his voice dips even lower now, almost playful. like he’s testing you and he knows you’re too curious to say no.
“do you wanna see the rest?”
you shouldn’t.
you really, really shouldn’t.
but you nod.
and something in him clicks.
he reaches for the book, knuckles brushing your thigh as he takes it gently from your lap. doesn’t ask again or give you time to second-guess. just shifts his weight to sit beside you, so close your knees bump, and flips to the next page with the ease of someone completely unashamed.
the next drawing makes your breath catch.
you— on your stomach, wrists bound above your head with a ribbon that trails off the page. your thighs are spread wide open, panties pushed to the side, one heel still hooked halfway off your foot. you can see your expression sketched in detail, mouth parted, brows drawn tight, eyes looking up with something caught between desperation and bliss.
he turns another page.
this one’s rougher. messier lines, heavier shading. you’re riding something, someone, but only the vague silhouette of a figure is visible beneath you. the focus is all on your body. the way your tits bounce. the tremble in your thighs. the glint of a tongue drawn wet and flicking out from behind your lips. your head is thrown back, hair wild, and between your legs— slick. so much slick. rendered in obsessive strokes that make you shiver.
you blink. “hyunjin, what the fuck—”
“what?” he says lightly, not even looking at you. “it’s art.”
he’s already on the next page.
you reach for it instinctively, trying to stop him, but he only laughs, quiet and amused, and tilts the book slightly so you can see better.
“thought you wanted to see the rest.”
your stomach twists. “how many are there?”
“depends,” he shrugs. “just the ones of you?”
you freeze.
he turns another page. this one’s so filthy your face burns.
you’re gagging on something thick, your hands gripping at the base, tears drawn in delicate lines down your cheeks. your mascara is smudged. your spit is dripping off your chin. there are notes in the margin, little technical observations. ‘make angle of throat curve more exaggerated,’ ‘adjust hand position,’ ‘redraw drool line thicker.’
you glance at him, stunned, but he’s completely calm. flipping through pages like this is the normal shit ever and he’s showing off a vacation album, not a growing collection of depraved, hyper-detailed hentai of you.
“why..” your voice cracks, and you clear your throat. “why me?”
he finally looks at you then.
really looks.
there’s no hesitation in his face. no shame. just a flicker of something deep and unwavering.
“you said yes,” he says simply. “you stood in front of me in that stupid lace and let me stare. what did you think i was gonna do? draw a fucking fruit bowl?”
“i thought it was for your portfolio—”
“it is,” he says, smiling again. “you’re the whole thing.”
you swallow hard. “you should’ve told me.”
he laughs, dry and low.
“would you have still posed?”
you don’t answer. because you don’t know.
he proceeds to turn another page.
this time, you’re bent over the kitchen counter in this one. there’s cum dripping down your thighs.
“you didn’t tell me to stop,” he says softly.
your pulse jumps. “i didn’t know what you were doing.”
“you never asked.”
the silence stretches.
he flips another page. then another. each sketch more obscene than the last. erotic positions you’ve never even imagined. angles that make your skin burn. and he narrates them all with a kind of detached pride, fingers gliding over each line like he’s showing off fine china.
“this one took me all night,” he murmurs, turning the book slightly so you can see the details. “couldn’t get the way your mouth stretches quite right. ended up using a mirror.”
“jesus,” you whisper, barely able to look away. “hyunjin, you’re insane.”
he grins, leaning closer. “and you let me draw you.”
his voice is low. warm. full of something dangerous.
“so what does that make you?”
you don’t answer.
you literally can’t.
because you’re still staring at the next page, and your thighs are pressing together before you even realize it.
+
it’s hard to say who came onto who first.
whether it was you, him, or the invisible thread between you finally pulled taut and snapped— you aren’t sure. but the sketchbook lands somewhere on the floor long forgotten, and then hyunjin’s hands are suddenly on your thighs, warm and steady. the next thing you know, you’re pressed into the mattress of his bed, his body hovering close, like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.
you’re still breathing hard, dizzy from everything you saw. your body’s betraying you, flushed and prickled with heat, and he sees it. god, he sees everything.
his voice is low, right beside your ear. “you’re still looking at me like i’ve done something wrong.” his thumbs press lightly into the soft flesh just above your knees, parting them further until your legs fall open around him. “but you haven’t said stop.”
you should. you could. your lips fall open like you want to say something, but the words never physically come out.
he chuckles.
“that’s what i thought.”
his fingers trail up your bare thigh with an artist’s touch, slow and reverent, tracing invisible lines like he’s mentally drafting his next sketch. his eyes never stray, just stays locked on your face. not your lips, not your chest, but your eyes— studying every twitch and flicker as if he’s trying to memorize how your shame turns into arousal.
and fuck, it’s working…
“do you know,” he says, almost idly, as though it’s just casual conversation. “how many nights i’ve spent drawing you from memory?”
his hand slides higher, dips beneath the hem of your shorts, brushes against the dampened fabric of your panties. his smile sharpens.
“you always wear the cutest little things. i couldn’t help it.”
you choke on your breath when he presses the heel of his palm against your cunt. not enough to relieve anything, but enough to remind you who’s touching you. who’s seen you like this, over and over again, in his head and on paper and in every single fucked-up sketch you were too horrified, and too curious, to stop looking at.
he leans in, mouth grazing the shell of your ear.
“you don’t know what it’s like,” he murmurs, “to spend hours perfecting the way your lips wrap around something thick. or the way your thighs shake when you’re close. i studied that. every twitch. every fold. every drip.”
his tone darkens, the words clinging to you like sweat.
“and it still wasn’t enough.”
he pulls back to look at you, fingers still nestled between your legs, his hand heavy and possessive like he owns what he drew— and maybe he does. he always has.
“you wanna know the real reason i never bring anyone home?”
you blink, mind hazy. “what?”
he slides your panties to the side with maddening precision, but his fingers stay light, barely ghosting over your folds.
“because i didn’t need anyone else.”
you whimper when the pad of his middle finger circles your clit, featherlight and cruel.
“i had you.”
a slow exhale leaves your chest, shaky and broken, and he watches you unravel, patient and quiet, savoring it the way someone might linger on the best part of a page.
then he kisses you without warning.
his mouth is soft at first, almost deceptively gentle. but the moment you lean into it and give in, he deepens it, tongue sliding over yours with the same practiced hunger he puts into his art. he kisses the way he draws: greedy, precise, a little filthy.
your hands fist into his hoodie, and he grins against your lips.
“fuck,” he breathes. “you taste better than i imagined.”
he pushes his fingers deeper between your folds, finally giving you the pressure you need. your hips jolt, a whine slipping from your throat, and that’s when you feel it.
his other hand has moved to your wrist.
he’s guiding it down.
and, fuck, he’s so hard.
you palm him through his sweats, wide-eyed and breathless, and he shudders, grinding into your touch shamelessly.
“you did this,” he says through a clenched jaw. “you and your fucking poses and that look on your face like you didn’t know what you were doing to me.” his hand moves with more purpose now, two fingers pressing inside you slow and deep while his thumb rubs tight, messy circles against your clit. he groans when you clench around him.
“this tight already?” he whispers, nose brushing yours. “and i haven’t even started drawing tonight.”
you try to reply— something, anything— but all that comes out is a pathetic, broken litttle moan.
he smirks, biting your bottom lip.
“so desperate. is this why you went snooping? hoping to find something to get off to?”
you shake your head. “i didn’t- i didn’t mean to—”
he laughs. “no?”
he curls his fingers just right and your whole body jerks, hips stuttering. he hits that gummy spot inside you that already has you seeing stars, mouth falling open around a breathless moan.
“then why’re you dripping all over my hand, sweetheart?”
your face contorts with pleasure, heat rushing to your cheeks as his fingers slowly withdraw, slick and shining. he raises them between you, holding the evidence up for you to see.
“look at that,” he murmurs, softly.
your arousal glistens in the low light, coating his fingers, dripping down his wrist. he slides them into his mouth and moans, eyes fluttering shut for just a second before they snap open again, dark and hungry.
“better than i imagined,” he breathes, already sounding wrecked.
“but we’ll keep going, yeah?”
his hand finds yours again, guiding it back to the bulge straining in his pants— heat pulsing through the fabric, through your palm, through the space between your bodies that’s disappearing by the second.
“you’ve only seen the sketches.”
+
you were half-expecting him to crumble when you climb into his lap.
at least, you wanted him to.
he’d spent the past thirty minutes sounding like the world’s most depraved art school simp, flipping through sketch after sketch like some perverted little museum curator. and now? after everything he’s admitted. you’re wet, twitchy, and riding the high of control. he’s throbbing under you, eyes wide, flushed to the tips of his ears. you think maybe he’ll let you ruin him. maybe he wants that.
but then his fingers dig into your hips. hard.
and the shift is immediate.
his back straightens. his mouth parts, but no breathy little beg ever comes out.
just a low, measured murmur in your ear:
“take your panties off.”
your brain short circuits.
“what—?”
he grips your jaw and tilts your face toward him, gently, never rough, but his touch is firm. decisive.
“you wanna climb into my lap, ride my cock like some spoiled little muse?” he says, tone deceptively calm. “fine. but you’re gonna do it the way i imagined it.”
your breath catches. your heart pounds. your cunt pulses.
fuck.
you strip without thinking. panties discarded somewhere on the floor, shorts shoved down past your knees. he watches, shamelessly, licking his lips once as his eyes drag down your body.
“there,” he says, like you’re finally arranged the way he likes.
he strokes a palm up your inner thigh, fingers ghosting over your folds, smearing slick deliberately. your hips twitch forward, chasing his touch.
he tuts. “so needy. bet you soaked the pages of my sketchbook, didn’t you?”
“hyunjin—”
“don’t act shy now,” he murmurs, voice darker. “you flipped through every page. stared at every filthy little pose i drew you in. legs spread, gagging, dripping.”
his fingers part your folds. dragging through them.
“this wet for me already, and i haven’t even put it in?”
you gasp when he presses the blunt head of his cock against your entrance, not pushing, just teasing, smearing precum over your folds like he’s painting.
“beg,” he says softly.
“hyun—”
“you were bold enough to go through my stuff,” he cuts you off, thumb pressing against your clit in painfully slow circles. “now beg.”
and god, you do.
you don’t even try to hold onto what little pride you had left. not when he’s touching you like that, looking at you like he already owns you, like he’s just recreating a scene he’s drawn a thousand times.
“please,” you whisper. “i want it.”
“say it properly.”
“please, let me ride your cock.”
he grins, smug and breathless, and finally, finally, lets you sink down on him.
and it’s perfect.
so thick you swear it stretches something deeper. you brace against his chest, gasping as he fills you up, each inch a slow, merciless press that has you trembling, mouth agape, nails biting into his skin.
“shiiit,” you whimper. “feels so—”
“tight,” he grits out. “fuck, baby, you’re so fucking tight.”
he lets you sit there for a second, fully seated on him, cunt fluttering as your body adjusts, becoming more attuned to his length. you were expecting him to move, to take over.
but he doesn’t.
“go on then,” he instructs. “ride me. show me what you learned from those drawings.”
you start moving, tentatively at first, slow little rolls of your hips— and his hands were simply there to guide you. firm and assured, shaping the rhythm as if he’s sculpting the moment himself, dragging pleasure from you at the exact pace he wants.
“there,” he hisses. “that’s it, just like that, bounce for me- yeah, baby, just like that.”
you ride him harder, chasing the friction, hips grinding down with more purpose as your moans rise in volume, ragged and desperate. and then his hand wraps around the base of your throat. not enough to block any major airways, just holding you there as an anchor.
“don’t cum yet,” he whispers.
you nearly sob.
“hyunjin- fuck, ’m so close—”
his hips buck up into you and your whole body jerks, another sharp gasp leaving your throat as your cunt clamps down hard, tight, pulsing around him, overwhelmed by the sudden depth and force.
“not yet.”
you clench your fists against his chest, thighs quivering, the ache mounting unbearably.
“please, please, i need—”
he shifts, arm wrapping around your waist, and slams you down onto him as he thrusts up again, harder this time, hitting your walls so deep you couldn’t help but scream.
“you think you get to snoop through my private sketchbook, make me beg, and then cum on my cock whenever you want?”
he flips you before you even get the chance to answer. he moves fast, smooth, overwhelming. now you’re flat on your back, and he’s towering above you, hand gripping your thigh, shoving it up against your chest as he sinks right back into you.
“you’re mine now,” he groans. “gonna fuck you until you forget your own name. gonna redraw you like this- cumming around me, crying for me.”
he thrusts deep and sharp and mean.
“gonna sketch you full of my cum.”
“hyun, fuck, please—”
he leans down, kissing your jaw, your cheek, your lips, almost sweet even as he rails you into the mattress.
“i got you,” he pants. “fuck, baby, i got you. you can cum now.”
and when you do, practically shaking and crying, cunt gripping him so tightly he’s nearly on the verge of blacking out. he follows immediately, moaning against your neck as he spills his thick, hot seed inside you.
he stays there for a moment, still buried deep, panting hard, chest pressed to yours and rising with each unsteady inhale. then he pulls out slowly, eyes fixed on the way his cum spills from you and drips down your thighs, letting out a satisfied hum.
“don’t move,” he says, already reaching for his sketchbook that was left abandoned on the floor.
“hyunjin—”
“shhh,” he coos, “you’re perfect. let me draw you like this.”
he pauses, glancing down at the creamy mess between your legs.
“maybe from memory again.”
guys this is first hyunjin fic ever so my apolocheese if it’s not that good but i rlly tried fhdhsh 😓 pls be nice or i’ll cri </3 (it’s litr 1 am and i can’t sleep omg someone help me)
Yeah we're getting freaky here, if it's not your thing- it's not your thing 🤷♀️
But chris's Mars conjunct Pluto in 7th indicates he probably would enjoy this with the right person.
The bathroom is full of steam. Water hammers against tile. You try to push him away when he kneels down with an untamed look in his eyes.
“Chris, stop, I’m bleeding. It’s disgusting.”
He barks out a short laugh. “You think I give a fuck about that? Open your legs.”
“Chris—”
“Open them,” he growls. He's not gentle, not even polite. His hands grip your thighs hard enough to bruise.
"You smell so fucking good,” he mutters, nose pressing into the crease of your thigh. He drags a deep inhale, eyes rolling back like he’s drunk. “Fuck. That’s it. That’s the smell I’ve been missing.”
"Chris it’s gross” You gasp when his tongue slides up through your folds, hot and wet, dragging blood and water into his mouth.
He groans against you. “Tastes like iron. Tastes like sex. Tastes like you. Fucking heaven.” His mouth moves harder, tongue flattening against you, licking everything you’re trying to hide. He slurps, loud and obscene, then sucks your clit into his mouth until your knees buckle.
You clutch at his hair. “Chris please—”
He pulls back just enough to look up at you. His chin and mouth are smeared red, water dripping from his hair. He looks feral. “You’re not getting out of this. I’m eating this pussy till you’re shaking. You bleed for me and you think I’m gonna stay away? Fuck no. Spread wider.”
He dives back in, tongue fucking into you, nose grinding against your clit. His hands keep your thighs pinned open. He’s licking up blood and water like it’s the best meal of his life, groaning every time he swallows.
“Yeah, that’s it. Fucking soak my face. Let me taste all of it,” he growls between licks. “You smell like sex and blood. You’re mine when you’re like this. Especially like this.”
Your head hits the tile. Your hips roll against his mouth without thinking. The cramps start to ease under the pressure of his tongue and his palm pressing into your lower belly.
He looks up again, eyes black with lust. “You’re dripping on my tongue. You’re gonna come. Do it. Give me that mess.”
You whimper. “Chris I can’t—”
“Yes you can,” he snaps. “Come on my mouth while you’re bleeding. Mark me with it.”
His tongue circles your clit in hard, fast flicks. He sucks at the same time, pulling the blood into his mouth with each drag. The sounds are wet and filthy, echoing in the small bathroom. Your thighs start to shake.
“Chris—fuck—” you cry out as the orgasm crashes over you. He doesn’t stop. He licks you through it, groaning into your skin, sucking down every drop while you shake against the wall.
When he finally stands, his mouth is stained red, chin slick, eyes glassy. He drags the back of his hand across his lips, then grabs your face and kisses you hard, shoving his tongue into your mouth so you taste yourself on him.
“You feel that?” he pants against your lips. “That’s mine. That’s what I’ve been craving. Don’t you ever hide from me like that again.”
He pushes your hair back, still holding you pinned between him and the wall, water running over both of you. “Every time you bleed I’m gonna be here. You’re not dirty. You’re mine. I’ll drink you, lick you, fuck you, whatever it takes.”
He nips at your bottom lip, still breathing hard. “Say it. Say you know whose mouth you’re in.”
summary: Felix grants you all your whims, even the “rarest” ones.
𐙚 pairing: lee felix x fem reader
⊹♡ genre: smut, pwp ⊹♡ warnings: light sub!felix, bestfriend!felix, handjob, oral sex, cum eating, cumplay, pet names, mention of pubes idgaf—so yummy it’s felix, unprotected sex, creampie ⊹♡ word count: 3.7k
masterlist ⭒ taglist
wen’s note: i warned you i needed felix so bad😭 bf brainrot!! it was time to post it, i had this since saturday lol / also naming a fic is lwk hard haha
One of your biggest desires right now is to fuck your best friend. That’s it. You said it—not to him directly—, but you thought about it.
You don’t know what’s going on, but it’s just a drastic change. You’ve always liked your best friend Felix a lot, but for some reason, you’ve been liking him a little more lately.
And you’ve always been direct, but when it comes to your feelings for him, you don’t know exactly how to tell him.
So you start teasing him, like that time you asked for ice cream. All you have to do is say you feel like some cookies and cream, and he immediately calls you excitedly, saying he’d love to take you to his favorite ice cream shop. But no, that time you didn’t feel like going out, you wanted ice cream with him, in your apartment. Felix quickly adapts to your every need and, in return, comes to your apartment and waits a few minutes for your favorite ice cream to arrive at your door, which he ordered for you.
You’re a bit capricious, you admit, so you don’t want to be ungrateful... so lately you’ve had this particular idea in your mind to thank him... a few kisses, caresses, nothing harmful. You’ve been dying to taste Felix for a long time. He is... simply incredible and breathtaking.
That day remains glorious. It was the first time you gave him a sign.
As you eat your ice cream, standing up, walking towards the sofa, you tease him by saying:
“Mmm, those shorts are a little big for you, don’t you think?” you say, amused, taking a lick of your ice cream and looking him straight in the eyes.
Felix has noticed the different way you look at him for some time now and must admit that it makes him nervous, but he likes it. Even so, he feels that you are not at all the sweet best friend he has known for so long.
And then, a subtle movement for you, but something that makes him uneasy and almost tremble. After your comment, your gaze slowly travels until it falls completely on his belt and his very exclusive masculinity, and you playfully lift his shirt a little, revealing a bit of his happy trial, and pull on his belt buckle, just playing and reaffirming your comment a little.
Felix remains motionless, not at all expecting your knuckles to caress his skin and fine hair, right near a very strategic part for him, down his navel, with such an intense gaze.
“Mmm, yes, ah—well, you know I’m thin,” he begins to stammer.
You love putting him like that. He always seems so confident, showing you his abs, telling you if a photo is good enough to post on his Instagram, and now... the slightest touch makes him like this.
It’s no surprise that you’re starting to like Felix; it was only a matter of time. He’s extremely handsome, cute, attentive, and gives you absolutely everything, and that means everything. He spoils you, and you easily treat each other like a couple.
But you’re tired of waiting too long. If you wanted it, you got it fast; it’s the only way Felix taught you. Your only man in your life right now.
So everything happens on an innocent weekend, your weekend when you get together to watch movies and dress up according to the theme of what you’re going to watch, a silly and sweet tradition that kills you with cuteness every time Felix, with his very cute big eyes and angelic face, tries hard to keep doing it with you.
He sends you a message.
Felix🩵
Nemo tonight, right? 🫠
I don't have anything orange, but I wore something nice
Hey, don't you think it's weird that we're going to eat sushi while watching Nemo? HAHAH
You feel like he’s not picking up on your signals. You sigh and know that what comes next will be either a joke or something in very poor taste, awkward or satisfying.
You answer him.
hahaha, yess
NEMO 2NIGHT
i want new lipsticks:((
He replies immediately.
Felix🩵
I'm on my way, almost there
Lipsticks? Which ones? I'll get them
Give me your sephora cart, I'll buy it
He’s unbelievable; you adore him. Only Felix would buy you all the makeup you could ever dream of and more. You smile mischievously. God, you can’t believe what you are about to say to your poor best friend.
i just idk what shades to pick
Felix🩵
Mmm idk, you like, pink? Everything looks good on you 🤍
i need the perfect shade, lix
plss help me
Felix🩵
Ok y/n, show me
You are already typing fast, guilty, so you don’t regret sending it.
And then, finally, Felix knocks on your door even though he knows the passcode to your place, but always waits for you to open the door.
But you had already sent the text.
haha ok nice
i think the perfect shade is
wait, what’s your tip color?
Your heart races when you realize he’s here. There are so many emotions. You’re embarrassed, proud, you don’t really know. You jump out of bed as soon as you hear him knocking on your door, not even checking to see if he saw the message.
But he did. And his eyes open in amazement. His tip color? Like, his cock tip color? What the fuck?
Felix is still in shock, blushing, and doesn’t even have time to process what’s happening when you’ve already opened the door, smiling broadly, looking radiant as if you hadn’t said anything.
Then he thinks it’s just a joke and that he should let it slide, but he can’t. He wants so badly to know if you liked him too, as much as he likes you.
“Hey, come in,” you said happily, pretending not to suffer from an intense heartbeat. “I’m the girl with the braces... and you...?”
He forgets about everything as soon as he sees you, smiling at you warmly and tenderly.
“Cute pigtails,” he touches one briefly, but remembers why he’s a little agitated when he notices your intense gaze, “ Ahm, I’m the... mmm, the old black and white fish” he starts to stutter, clearly nervous suddenly.
He is wearing his black and white adidas jacket, unzipped, a white sleeveless shirt underneath, and oversized cargo shorts. He looks really cute.
“Ohh, I see. Well, it’s been a while since I watched Nemo.”
And so, you start watching the movie, you lean your body against his, and like always, you’re touchy with him, you can’t help it, his bleached blonde hair is soft, smells good, but its texture is so addictive somehow to tangle your fingers in, his cheeks are soft, his whole body warm; but, you could see and feel him a little tense, different. He returns your touchy affection very slightly, finely, when he is always needy for your caresses and explores your body—in the most innocent spots of you. You know him.
The first 45 minutes of the movie pass and Felix tells you he’s going to get a bottle of water, so you pause the video.
“Do you want anything?” he asks, getting up from the couch.
You shake your head. Felix feels relieved because he thinks that if he spends more time with you, something could happen between you at any moment. All you had to do was pay attention to the way you touch him, not just in a friendly way, your hands on him are with a purpose disguised as innocence. He drinks his water, quenching his sudden thirst for you, just barely, you, his best friend, his... dream woman. He loves you and needs you too much... but how can he express it? If it’s always just you and him, best friends forever.
You wait for him, in a very short time, yet you find yourself checking your cell phone a little and notice that he did indeed see the message. You wonder if he read it... and you also wonder if that’s why he’s been acting strange.
You know Felix, you know it’s not awkwardness, if anything, something was up. His expression is serious, and he seems focused on everything but the movie.
You bite your lip, thinking that maybe tonight will be more special than it seems. Will you take advantage of the situation to hook up with your sweet friend Felix? It would be a dream come true. Your latest whim coming true, like all the others.
Felix returns, trying to act nonchalant, but as soon as he reads your body language of wanting to get dangerously close to him, he understands everything.
You can’t wait any longer. You’ll be direct. If he wants it, he’ll take it now, you’ll enjoy it uncontrollably, and if not, well, you’ve never thought about no. Felix always says yes to you.
He clears his throat.
“Um, should we watch a romcom after this?” he asks nervously.
“Sure,” you reply, standing up from your seat and facing him. It’s time to confront him. “So... Felix Lee, did you read my text?”
“Y-your text?” He avoids looking you in the eye, but glances at you from time to time.
You nod, challenging him and seductively running your tongue along the inside of your cheek, a small gesture that drives him crazy.
“Uh-huh. Yes. About the lipsticks, I really need your help.”
“Oh! That! Of course, which ones do you want to buy? You know you have my card, sweetheart.”
“I know. Thanks, Lix. But you know that’s not the problem.” You start playing with the zipper on his jacket, and you’re so close to him that you notice every angle of his attractive, nervous face, even his body tensing up. “I really want the perfect color. I still think that...” You watch your fingers play with his jacket and then slowly and seductively look up to make eye contact and say, “Your tip’s color is the perfect shade for my lips.”
You smile mischievously and notice how his Adam’s apple moves, showing his reaction and excitement. Okay, you have to admit it sounded a little strange... but you weren't joking when it came to Felix. Your intentions are serious and clear. You want to give it a try.
“Oh! That text... that was” he chuckled nervously, “that was funny.”
He tries to play it cool. He’s so anxious and agitated that he’s afraid it will show.
And it does show. He’s needy for you.
“I wasn’t joking, Felix,” your gaze falls on him, heavy and intense.
You want to make him give in so sweetly.
“Oh, you weren’t?”
“So, will you help me?” you interrupt him.
“Excuse me?”
“Will you help me with that? Will you show me?”
Felix stammers, unsure of what to say. But he could never say no to you, especially about something he's wanted for so long. It’s clear that the tension is building and things are escalating between you.
“Wait. So, are you for real?”
“I really mean it, Lix,” you whisper close to his lips.
You tease him by moving closer and brushing against his body.
“So... will you let me see it now?” you repeat, closer to his lips.
Felix tenses up even more. He wants to say yes, to move, but he’s under so much pressure, mesmerized and so turned on. You take the water bottle he was clutching so tightly and place it on your coffee table, turning back to him, caressing the smooth skin of his arms, your fingertips delighting in his gently protruding veins.
Felix sighs and nods softly, his Adam’s apple moving once again, his lips parting, ready to speak, not quite sure what to say; but you think that the idea of seeing his cock for the first time, just like that, is a little rushed. Yes, you want to fuck him, you’re so horny that you need him and his hard cock right now, and the tension between you wasn’t helping. But you also adore him madly, so it impulsively occurred to you that you should start slowly, taste his lips first. You always wanted that too; it was unfair.
You see his hands reaching for his belt, but you stop him.
“Wait, kiss me first.”
He just does anything you say. His eyes looking big, shiny, and submissive.
“Sure,” he whispers, barely audible, trembling.
You bring your lips close to his. You embrace his body, and he quickly does the same with yours, delicately taking you by the waist and timidly exploring your body, your back, and your hips. It’s the same paradise for both of you. At first, it’s rushed, passionate, clumsy, but tender. It takes a few seconds for you to adapt to each other’s movements and find a delicious rhythm.
Felix’s lips are plump; you always wanted to kiss them but weren’t sure if you should cross that line. But that doesn’t matter right now. It’s a passionate moment, sweet but sizzling, mouths colliding, breaths cut short, exquisitely dirty sounds, his tongue playing with yours, and your body sticking to his, rubbing delicately against his much-needed erection that he is currently experiencing.
You separate, although neither of you seems to want to. You still linger in each other’s mouths, breathing hot and slowly, brushing lips. Felix feels so consumed by the situation that he whispers, somewhat dazed,
“So... does this mean...?”
He can’t finish his sentence, but he knows that kiss had a deep meaning. It was like saying what you never dared to say. That you not hesitating to kiss each other was a very clear sign that there was already something there.
You smile. You know what he’s talking about and finish his sentence. “That I like you, Felix, yes. And... I want to thank you for always being so good to me.”
Your gaze rises from his softly sucking lips to his docile gaze, tender yet lascivious, then descends to the beautiful freckles on his face, which give him an innocent and harmless appearance. And, to tell the truth, that is exactly how he feels now under your touch.
He wants to think it’s the innocence of seeing each other like this for the first time, with desire, or at least revealing it to one another. The innocence of your first caresses with passionate affection, of your first kiss… but your intentions go beyond something innocent.
“I like you too, Y/N.”
You smile and kneel slowly, caressing his body on your way to his erection.
“I know,” you reply, lifting your chin and looking him in the eyes. “We can work this out.”
You sigh without him noticing and look at his bulge. You’re just as nervous and aroused, despite appearing confident. You feel your femininity pulsing, you’re so ready.
Felix blushed, watching your hands unbuckle his belt. He doesn’t want to say it, he’s embarrassed, but he also doesn't want to stop, or give you an unpleasant surprise, so he suddenly blurts out nervously:
“W-wait,” which catches your attention abruptly. You’re about to pull down his boxers. “It’s just that… I-I haven’t fully shaved yet.”
Felix didn’t expect his best friend, whom he has a crush on, to suck his dick like that, right there in her own living room.
A big smile forms on what was once your attentive and concerned face at whatever Felix had to say. You find him cute, since he’s blushing.
“Oh, I don’t care about that, Lix. It’s okay.”
You pull down his underwear, making Felix moan from the sensations of releasing his cock and the fabric rubbing against his sensitivity. You glance briefly at his penis and then look up at him. Felix looks down at you, still looking so damn handsome even from that angle. He’s still embarrassed about not having his private area ‘clean,’ but you give him a warm, knowing smile; you find it cute that he’s like this because he only overreacted a little.
He looks perfect. It almost pisses you off how perfect he looks. His cock looks perfect—thick, needy, throbbing. Just the right size to fill your mouth, to make you taste every inch of him. And for some reason, it turns you on even more that he’s clearly shaved recently—but it didn’t help much; his hair is already growing back. You wouldn’t even have noticed if he hadn’t mentioned it. Now it’s just a tiny detail that makes you even wetter—the subtle roughness of his skin, the faint stubble where he’d shaved, trailing toward his thick, hard shaft. So ready for you to taste him.
You’ll still take him just like that, and you do. You’re slightly desperate. You take his cock in your hand, feeling the softness of its texture, and you can’t resist bringing it closer to your lips. You rub his mauve pinkish warm tip on your lips, gently smearing yourself with his precum, and then you open your mouth, stick out your tongue, and let his throbbing cock rest on it while your hand pumps the rest of its length.
Felix gasps, groans from deep within, moans hoarsely, with difficulty, and heavy, ragged breathing. He feels so hot that he takes off his jacket and throws it weakly onto the sofa. And finally, he decides to take your head, caressing your hair, the two high pigtails that he initially thought made you look extremely cute, and now desire and dirty thoughts surrounded him, thinking that he could cum on them if possible. You are both so horny.
You start to put his cock in your mouth, filling yourself with every inch of it, sucking it hard and starting to swallow it. In seconds, it becomes dirty and obscene. You savor and revel in it, caressing every part of him —your tongue and hands greedy, gliding from the smooth skin of his abs to the soft weight of his balls. You take his cock out from time to time, licking and savoring its entire length. You’re dripping. Saliva strings from your lips to his tip, your chin sticky, your breath messy, and between your thighs, your cunt clenches, throbbing, demanding its turn.
It’s everything you’ve ever wanted, so you can’t help but smile as his cock fills you up. You look into his eyes, Felix is whimpering, babbling, and cursing in muffled moans, being so stimulated that his pretty eyes start to water. He’s so close.
“I just... want to thank you for always giving me what I ask for. How do you do it?”
You start talking, speeding up your hand to satisfy him. Felix whimpers and throws his head back, sounding so needy, letting you do whatever you want to him.
“I’m doing everything I can, love. For you,” he replies with difficulty.
All his muscles tense, every part of him begging for release.
“Fuck! I’m about to cum,” he announces, his voice trembling.
Adrenaline and desire fill your body, making your heart beat fast, waiting for his much-desired cum. You look into his eyes as you feel his body tremble, his cock twitching in your hand, so you hurry and put it in your mouth, filling yourself with his warm burst of ejaculation. Felix whimpers even more as he cums intensely and releases every drop of himself.
You drink his semen with satisfaction, remembering the particular flavor of your best friend, and take his collapsed cock out of your mouth, playfully fiddling with his shaft near your lips, adorning yourself with small white drops.
But you still can’t stop. You suddenly stand up.
“Should we continue?”
You’re always so unpredictable. Felix looks at you expectantly and lets you gently push his body, leading him to sit on your sofa. He’s still recovering, his cock is somewhere between soft and hard, but his situation becomes more difficult when he sees you quickly undressing.
He moans as he feels your warm pussy press against his sensitive member, sitting on top of him, his cock twitches under you, still slick, still recovering. Your folds on his new erection, moving subtly on top of him. He stiffens again when he feels your labia grind down on him. He’s sensitive as hell, but helpless to resist you.
You take his shirt off, appreciating his abs and the cute, barely visible freckles on his shoulders. You hold on to them, position his cock at your entrance, and slowly let yourself fall onto it. You both moan at the sensation that surrounds you. Felix feels your wetness and walls throbbing around his length, and he bites his lower lip hard, still so sensitive, but he wants to fuck you, or you to fuck him. He grabs your waist and lets you ride him at the pace you set. Everything feels so good to him.
You start to sway your hips, sliding on his cock, lifting your ass, first slowly and precisely, then desperately, fast and needily. You kiss him hard, hug him, press your forehead against his, and let yourself be carried away by the moment. Felix slowly loses his shyness and plays with your breasts; you can feel his desperation and pleasure. You are so close, and your pussy and body feel so particularly satisfied that you arch your back and throw your head and torso back, without losing the rhythm.
You come back and cling to him, whimpering his name in his ear as you feel overwhelmed by your next orgasm, and you come, your thighs trembling, his cock inside you to the hilt. Felix cums with a cry, hips twitching under your thighs, spilling his semen inside you seconds later, pleasantly used. Finally, filling you with all his desire for you.
“You’re a spoiled little brat, you know that?” he jokes breathlessly.
You smile, breathing deeply into the crook of his neck, collapsed and satisfied, and then you lift your head weakly to look at him.
“I adore you,” he confesses.
You gently rub your nose against his.
“Me too,” you give him a quick kiss. “Should we watch Shrek next?”
He rolls his eyes playfully at your sudden change, as usual.
summary: late nights at the studio with your boyfriend 🎙️
rating: 18+ (mdni!!)
wc: 3.5k
warnings: smut/rpf!!, rough sex, unprotected piv, dom!chan, sub!reader, dirty talk, degradation, possessive language, overstimulation, choking/light breath play, cockwarming, semi public sex (studio), creampie, a teeny tiny bit of humiliation, marking/biting, NOT proofread 😭✋
a/n: hg said I should post this so here we go (again) dc: @psyduck18 🫶🏻
- masterlist
The hum of the mixing board was the only thing keeping the studio from falling completely silent. Screens glowed with half-finished tracks, layers of beats stacked and waiting for his touch. You leaned back on the couch, watching him.
Silver hair caught the dim light every time he shifted, fingers flying over the keyboard as if he could bend sound to his will. He was in that zone again—eyebrows knitted, jaw tense, sleeves shoved up so you could see the veins running down his forearms.
It was past midnight, and you’d lost count of how many times he’d said “just one more adjustment.”
You stretched your legs out across the couch. He’s really not going to stop until I pull him away, you thought, eyes tracing the curve of his shoulders under the tight black tee.
“Chan,” you called softly.
He didn’t answer, only hummed, head tilting slightly toward you but his gaze locked on the screen.
You smirked. “You realize you’ve been stuck on the same eight bars for like… an hour, right?”
That got his attention. He spun slowly in his chair, silver fringe falling into his eyes. And the look he gave you wasn’t playful—it was sharp, like you’d interrupted something sacred.
“Are you complaining,” he asked, voice low, “or are you just bored?”
Your throat went dry. His tone carried weight, the kind that made heat pool in your stomach. “Maybe both.”
Chan stood, chair scraping back as he crossed the room with deliberate steps. His presence shifted the air—commanding, heavier, like you could feel him before he touched you.
He stopped right in front of the couch where you sprawled, his body blocking the soft light from behind him. His smirk was slow, almost dangerous.
“You’ve been distracting me all night.”
“I wasn’t doing anything,” you protested, though your voice was thinner than you’d intended.
“Exactly,” he said, leaning down so his breath brushed your ear. “You’re just sitting there. Staring at me. Legs spread out on my couch like you’re begging for attention.”
Your heartbeat hammered in your chest. You tried to swallow, but he caught your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.
“Do you know what that does to me?”
You shook your head, breath catching.
His thumb dragged across your bottom lip, pressing just enough to make you part them. “It makes me want to ruin you right here. Make you scream loud enough to drown out the bass.”
Your thighs clenched.
Chan noticed. Of course he did. His smirk widened, and before you could respond, he pushed your legs open with his knee and stepped between them, towering over you.
“You’re not leaving this studio untouched tonight,” he murmured, voice dropping even lower.
His knee pressed between your thighs, pinning you open against the couch. The heat radiating off him was overwhelming—like the entire studio shrank to just his body caging you in.
“You think I don’t notice the way you look at me when I’m working?” Chan’s voice was a growl now, his grip firm on your chin. “The way you squirm when I ignore you?”
Your lips parted around a shaky breath. “Chan—”
He cut you off with a sharp kiss. Not soft, not testing—the kind of kiss that devours. His tongue slid against yours with practiced dominance, hand fisting in your hair to angle your head exactly how he wanted. You moaned into his mouth, and he swallowed it like he’d been waiting hours to hear the sound.
When he finally pulled back, a strand of spit connected you, your lips already swollen. His eyes were dark, the silver strands falling wild around his face.
“Take your top off,” he ordered, voice like gravel.
Your shaky hands obeyed instantly, tugging the fabric over your head and tossing it aside. His gaze raked down your body like he was cataloging every inch of exposed skin, and the way he licked his lips made you flush hotter.
“Fuck,” he muttered, palms sliding up your waist before cupping your tits roughly. He squeezed, thumbs brushing your nipples until they peaked under his touch. “You’re so perfect for me.”
The whine that escaped you made his cock twitch in his jeans. You saw it in his face—the flash of hunger, the restraint barely holding him back.
“Lie back.”
You did, sinking into the couch cushions as he climbed on top, his weight pressing you down deliciously. He ground his hips into yours, the bulge in his jeans hard against your core.
“Feel that?” he growled into your ear, thrusting again so you couldn’t mistake the size and urgency. “That’s what you do to me just by sitting there like a little slut.”
Your nails dug into his back through the thin cotton of his shirt. “Chan, please—”
He pulled back enough to smirk down at you, one hand gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head. With the other, he slid down your stomach, fingers teasing the waistband of your pants.
“Already begging?” he mocked, pressing harder against your clothed pussy until you gasped. “I haven’t even touched you properly yet.”
His fingers slipped beneath your waistband, sliding into your panties to stroke over your folds. You were already wet, slick coating his fingertips instantly. His eyes darkened even more.
“Fuck, you’re soaked.” He shoved two fingers inside you without warning, the stretch sudden and perfect.
Your back arched off the couch, a cry ripping from your throat.
“That’s it,” he hissed, thrusting them deep, curling just right. “Moan for me. Let everyone in this building know who’s making you feel this way.”
The pace was relentless, his thumb circling your clit as his fingers fucked into you. You were panting, already spiraling too close too fast, his dirty words pushing you over the edge.
“You’re gonna cum on my fingers before I even get my cock inside you,” Chan groaned, leaning down to bite your neck hard enough to mark. “Pathetic little slut, falling apart this easy.”
Your walls clenched around him, and he laughed low against your throat.
“That’s it. Cum for me. Right now.”
And you did—body trembling, thighs clamping around his wrist as he fucked you through it, relentless until you were sobbing his name into the dim studio.
You were still shuddering, body buzzing from the orgasm, when Chan yanked his fingers out of you with a wet slurp. He shoved them into your mouth before you could catch your breath.
“Clean them,” he demanded, eyes burning into yours.
You sucked obediently, tasting yourself on his skin. He smirked, pulling his hand away only when he was satisfied, thumb swiping across your lips like he was marking you.
“Good girl.”
Then his hands were at his belt, tugging it open with a snap, jeans shoved down just enough to free his cock. Your breath caught—it was thick, flushed, veins standing out as he stroked it once, twice, like he was showing you what you were about to take.
“You see what you did to me?” he growled, lining himself up with your dripping entrance. “Now you’re gonna take it. Every inch.”
You barely had time to brace before he slammed into you in one hard thrust. The stretch burned, delicious and overwhelming, a scream tearing from your throat as your nails clawed at the couch cushions.
“Fuck—Chan!”
“Shut up,” he snarled, snapping his hips again, deeper this time. “You can scream when I say you can.”
He set a brutal pace, hips pistoning into you with punishing force, each thrust knocking the breath from your lungs. The couch creaked under the force, your body bouncing against the cushions helplessly.
“Look at you,” he groaned, grabbing your jaw to make you meet his gaze. “Taking my cock like you were made for it. You feel that? How deep I am inside you?”
You whimpered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the intensity.
“That’s right,” he hissed, grinding down so the head of his cock pressed against your sweet spot. “Cry for me. I want to see your pretty face fall apart.”
His free hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your moans crack into gasps. The combination of pressure and his relentless thrusts had you spiraling again, your pussy clenching tight around him.
“Fuck—you’re choking my cock with how tight you are,” he groaned, head dropping to your shoulder as his thrusts grew rougher, more erratic. “You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you? Greedy little slut, can’t even last five minutes without milking me.”
“Y-yes—” you sobbed, voice breaking.
“That’s it. Cum. Right now. Make a mess all over me.”
The command sent you over the edge, your body convulsing as another orgasm ripped through you. You screamed his name, walls fluttering violently around his cock, dragging a guttural groan from his chest.
“Fuuuck,” he cursed, hips slamming harder, chasing his own release. “You’re mine. All fucking mine.”
With one final thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and came, hot spurts filling you as his grip on your throat tightened possessively. His groan was rough, primal, echoing in the dark studio.
He collapsed over you, chest heaving, cock still twitching inside you as your bodies pressed together, slick and trembling.
The room smelled like sex, thick and heavy, the faint buzz of the monitors barely cutting through the sound of your ragged breathing. Chan didn’t move at first, chest pressed to yours, cock still buried deep inside you, twitching with every aftershock.
You thought he might pull out. Maybe clean you up. Maybe let you catch your breath.
Instead, he dragged a hand down your thigh, squeezing hard enough to make you whimper, and then slowly sat back. His cock slid only an inch before he slammed you back down on it, burying himself to the hilt again.
“Stay open for me,” he muttered, pinning your hips under his hands. “I’m not done using this pussy.”
You gasped, the overstimulation making your whole body shiver. “Chan, it’s—”
He cut you off with a sharp glare, silver hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. “Don’t even think about whining. You’re gonna sit here, stuffed full of my cock, while I finish this track. Got it?”
Your lips parted in shock, but his hand slid back up to your throat, squeezing lightly until you nodded frantically.
“That’s my good girl.”
He pulled you upright, straddling his lap now as he shuffled back into his chair, cock never slipping free. The shift made you moan helplessly—he was so deep like this, pressing into places that made your head spin.
Chan smirked, arms locking around your waist as he spun the chair back toward the glowing monitors. One hand went to the mouse, clicking through files like he hadn’t just fucked you senseless. The other stayed splayed across your ass, holding you down on his lap so you couldn’t even think about moving.
The keys clacked under his fingers. His cock twitched inside you.
You squirmed, desperate for relief, but he immediately slammed his palm against your hip. “Don’t. Move.” His voice was sharp, dangerous. “You’ll sit here, dripping all over me, until I decide I want more.”
The heat pooling between your thighs was unbearable. Every tiny shift made his cock drag against your walls, and you couldn’t stop the small, broken moans slipping out.
He didn’t even look at you. “Pathetic,” he muttered, eyes glued to the screen. “All I’m doing is sitting here, and you’re already whining like you need to be fucked again.”
His hand slid up under your bra, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you yelp. “Don’t worry, baby. You’ll get it. Over and over again, until this pussy can’t take anymore.”
You buried your face in his shoulder, muffling the desperate sounds spilling from your mouth. He chuckled low, rolling his hips once just to feel you clench violently around him.
“God, you’re tight. Can you feel how deep I am?” His lips brushed your ear, hot and taunting. “This is where you belong. On my cock, while I work, while I breathe. Always stuffed full.”
His hand tapped at the keyboard again, but his focus was split—you felt it in the way his thighs tensed beneath you, the way he rutted up just slightly every time you clenched. He loved this, having you trapped, helpless, a mess dripping down his cock while he carried on like nothing was wrong.
“You’re gonna sit here until I decide to fill you again,” he whispered, finally cutting his gaze to yours. His eyes burned in the glow of the monitors. “And you’re gonna thank me for it.”
A/n: This was inspired by a video I saw on Reddit. Just the bored as an incubus thing you'll read. :D Anyway, enjoy this Chan fic and I hope to hear about what you think! No AI was used (unless you count spellcheck).
Summary: Chan hates his job. He thought it'd be fun, but the joy of being an incubus is gone. Everything is expected… until he's summoned by someone who shatters his expectations. Weirdly enough, he's endeared to her unusual reason for summoning him. Then he learns why she's seeking companionship and it changes everything for Chan. So much so that he might feel something again.
Words: 13.9k
Warnings: this is pretty dark with the demons and sex being a big part (although humans are the worst here); there is an extremely unhealthy relationship that shows oc being forced into sex she doesn't want to keep herself safe; demon dick; lots of sex chatter; Chan goes on a "humans are evil" rant; abuse; freaky demon magic; shadow tentacles; and I'm sure more I've missed
For Chan it is always the same story: a lonely witch tries her hand at summoning magic, he's plucked from his cozy home, and then he's asked to do whatever vulgar request the witch craves. Such is the life of an incubus under contract.
In his early years, Chan would seek out unsuspecting women, snug in their beds, begging to be touched, calling out to him. There was a thrill to it. Knowing that his expert fingers or his impressive cock could bring her over the edge without ever waking her was exhilarating. He lived for it.
The day Chan was asked to become part of the summoning department, he was excited. An official role means something. He found a way up in the demon world. The only problem? He hates the job.
The thrill is gone. Sure, being wanted grows his ego, but where's the fun in being called in for sex? He wants to seek it out. Hunting for women in desperate need of a proper fuck, unguarded in their dreams, that's the shit Chan craves.
Being summoned is boring. The sex is always the same. He feels nothing. The ones who seek him out are left satisfied by the time he passes back into the demon world, but he is left wanting. Where's the fun in that?
Mostly for his shifts, Chan spends his free time making himself look appealing. From working out to keep his stamina up to par to keeping up with his muscular physique, he stays busy.
Right as he exits his shower, a portal appears to his right. Chan sighs and tosses his towel aside. A soft voice calls out to him from the swirling vortex. He doesn't recognize it, but he stretches his limbs all the same. With another sigh, he steps through.
"Holy—"
Limbs fly in the air as a woman falls back on her ass. Her wide chocolate eyes stare up at a very naked Chan, those eyes scanning every inch of him. He feels his pride swell because he knows how good he looks. Some would claim he is almost inhuman despite the human features he’s donned for the sake of pleasing human women. The firm muscles across his body are noticeable without flexing, yet he finds himself tensing his abdomen when the woman’s eyes drop downward. Chan almost grins when she appears to struggle bringing her gaze back to his face.
"You called?" He says, a flirty lilt to his tone, but it doesn't seem to reach his gentle-looking eyes.
"Um, yeah. I guess I did." She stands and grabs the spell book off the floor. "What… are you?"
"A demon."
She swallows. "Oh. Okay. Not quite what I was hoping for."
Chan raises an eyebrow. "Were you expecting something different?"
"Well, uh, the spell says it's good for loneliness, so I was kinda expecting something not so... scary"
"Me? Do I look scary to you?"
"I mean, no, but demons aren't usually... good."
"I suppose." Chan crosses his arms and stares down at the woman. "Are we gonna do this?"
"Do what?"
"Do you not want me to fuck you?"
She clutches the book to her chest and takes a step back. Her eyes grow wide and her jaw drops. "I-I did not—what?!" Her eyes glance down to see he is indeed still naked and her face burns. "Oh-Oh. No, no, you've got the wrong idea."
Chan exhales. "Did you not summon me, witch?"
"Witch? No, I’m not a… A friend let me borrow this and told me to use the spell. I, uh, I just wanted someone to talk to. This isn't... I don't want sex."
That puts a pause on Chan's brain. She doesn't want sex? She isn't a witch and still managed to summon him? Why would his department allow this?
"Um, my name is Wren by the way."
"Chan."
"Is that your real name?"
"Perhaps."
"I guess it would be dumb to give your real name. You never know who will abuse that knowledge."
He tilts his head, silver tresses barely brushing the top of his shoulder, and says nothing.
Wren glances down again and turns her head away. "Can I get you clothes or-or at least a blanket?"
"Are you embarrassed?"
"Um... I don't want to be rude by staring."
That brings a smirk to his face. "You can stare."
"No, I don't think I will."
"Have you even fucked before?"
She nearly drops the book, turning her head to glare at him. "Of course, I have! That's not the point here! It might not be the same where you're from, but here it's impolite to stare at someone when they're naked."
Chan laughs. He actually laughs. He can't help it. It's been ages since he's had the pleasure to talk to someone so amusing. To think this little human summoned him, seeking a companion, instead of begging him to ravish her until she's gone dumb. Wren watches him, brow furrowed the longer he laughs.
With the snap of his fingers, black basketball shorts and a white tank top cover his body, his laughter slowly dying off.
"You good there, buddy?" Wren asks, still clutching that damn spell book to her chest.
"Unexpectedly so."
"Okay. Cool." She peers up at him, eyes changing from confusion to wanting. "Do you, uh... Do you wanna play Halo with me?"
–
It’s strange for Chan to enjoy the company of a woman when there's no sex involved. He finds himself thinking about Wren when he's alone. Sometimes she pops into his head while he's satisfying some desperate witch. That's when he realizes spending his time with those boring women is bearable. He has a… friend, one might say.
Unfortunately though, his visits to Wren are few and far between. He thought she would summon him often since she gushed about the video games she wants to play with him, but she rarely uses the summoning spell. With his curiosity piqued, Chan can't help asking the next time she calls for him.
"I'm busy," is her answer, gaze glued to the television.
It’s curt, emotionless. And it isn't a result of her focusing on the game. He's seen her focused. Wren is too aware of him and his gaze. He can feel the electricity of her anxiety spark the air between them. Her reasons are secret and she has no intention of explaining. He doesn't like that.
"I don't like being lied to." If it sounds threatening, that's his intention.
Wren swallows. "It doesn't matter."
"It means something if you refuse to explain."
"Please... Don't ask. I... I can't talk about it."
Chan lets it go, but he intends to find out what Wren is hiding. Only because he's curious. Not because he's grown attached to the woman. Pathetic beings let themselves get attached.
–
Figuring out Wren's location was easy enough. A database of where all portals lead are kept in a private server only few have access to. Lucky for him, he's close to one of those few and they easily tracked Wren's address down.
Existing on a separate plane, watching hers, Chan finds himself watching her frantically hiding away things like her collection of games, her comfort clothes, and literally anything that gives her personality, all while wearing a pink lacy lingerie set. Her long dark hair is in a claw clip that she quickly takes out and tosses in her closet the moment the sound of a car door rings out. She fluffs her hair and lays herself out on her bed in a sensual way.
Chan furrows his brow.
A minute later, a big muscular man pushes her bedroom door open, a smirk rising to his face. He’s bearded, a reddish color in comparison to the light brown of the hair on top of his head. "You did what I asked," he said to her.
Wren purses her lips and rolls onto her tummy, kicking her feet daintily behind her. "Anything to make daddy happy."
Oh, so that's what this is. Chan smirks a little. She has a man already. Or at the very least, a fuck buddy. So, that's why she's not asking him for sex.
The man hums. "I don't recall daddy saying you could speak."
Chan raises an eyebrow.
Wren swallows and looks down at her bed covers.
"Look at me."
Her gaze shoots up to the man. He's unbuckling his belt. Chan watches with rapt attention.
"Get on your knees. Now."
Wren does so quickly.. She waits, watching the man pull himself out of his dress pants. Everything in her body language tells Chan that she doesn’t want what is about to happen. She’s too tense like she mentally preparing herself for it.
Chan is mildly impressed by the man's size. He's rarely surprised by the size of humans, but this man is not only large in body, but in cock. He wonders how Wren and her petite form can take such a large man. Probably with a lot of foreplay, he assumes.
"Open your mouth."
She does.
And without a warning, the man forces his entire cock down her throat. She gags violently and her eyes water, but she keeps her mouth open. The spit that floods her mouth drips from her lips, but it's perfect to allow the man before her to thrust harshly into her mouth, undeterred by her sounds of struggle. He grabs the back of her head and doesn't stop fucking her mouth.
Disgust fills Chan as he watches him abuse her small mouth, ignoring the way Wren clutches his pants as her air is stolen from her. He's relieved when the bear of a man finishes in a few seconds, pulling out to cover her face and chest with his cum.
"Panties off and bend over the bed. I'm not finished with you yet."
Wren listens, grimacing when the mess on her body drips onto her bed. She barely braces herself for what's to come before she's split open. It’s clear she wants to scream, but she doesn’t, only biting her bottom lip to keep her sounds at bay.
Again, Chan is left feeling disgust for the way this man is treating Wren. Even as a demon, he has the decency to make sure his prey is ready to take him. Sex is supposed to feel good, not be the reason a woman cries from pain like Wren starts to do.
She doesn't sniffle. She doesn't push her boyfriend away. She silently cries and lets snot drip from her nose. The sight rears up some sort of powerful emotion in Chan, one he almost blows his cover to stop the sad excuse of a man from doing this to Wren.
When he's done, he demands Wren to make dinner... without changing or cleaning up. And again, she does what she asks without question.
Something dark swirls in the middle of Chan's chest. Watching Wren, who has only ever asked for Chan to share in her interests, silently cry over the homemade Alfredo sauce she makes for the boiling pasta beside it enrages Chan. Her shoulders shake while the sad excuse of a man laughs at a raunchy joke on television. Demons get the bad reputation, but he can confidently say evil runs deeper in humanity. It always has.
Hours go by, Chan watching everything, before the man finally leaves Wren for the night without any sort of affection. He watches when sobs wrack her body as soon as the car pulls away. He watches her climb into the shower still dressed in lingerie and scrub at her skin until it turns red.
How often has she been the doormat for that man? Is he her boyfriend? If so, why hasn't she ended it with him? Chan watches her curl up on her stripped bed in the baggiest clothes she has. She's not going to want to tell him anything the next time she summons him, but he's not going to let the abhorrent behavior of that piece of shit go.
–
As soon as he steps through the portal, he clocks the heavy makeup on her cheek. Wren can't even get out a greeting before Chan gently cups her face, his thumb rubbing away the foundation. A fading bruise sits under it. Rage builds in Chan.
"He did this."
"H-How—"
"I'm a demon. I see more than you know."
That's when tears build up in her eyes. "No one is supposed to know."
"I do. Is he why you don't call for me more?"
She pulls her face away from his warm hands and looks down.
"He's why you want a companion. Does the witch who gave you the spell book know what he does to you?"
"No..."
"You shouldn't let him near you ever again."
"I can't do that! I-I've tried..." A memory he can’t see makes her grimace.
"Then I'll kill him." He's serious. No one will know. He'll just cease to exist.
"Don't kill him!"
"Why not?"
"It's wrong!"
"And him abusing you for his pleasure isn't?" Chan frowns and crosses his arms. "Humans like that don't deserve the pleasures of the flesh. Your world is better off without him."
Wren scoffs. "Right. Why did I think I could convince a demon not to do something wrong? Demons only know how to do evil."
Chan traps her against the wall, his dark eyes heavy on her face. "Humans like him hold more evil than the Devil himself."
"I find that hard to believe. You're talking about Lucifer. No one is worse than him."
"Lucifer would take time to make sure his lover isn't in pain. He doesn't cheer when children die of starvation. In fact, he looks for ways to harm the offenders in ways God won’t notice. Demons are not as evil as you think."
She sighs and gently pushes against his chest. He steps back and waits for her to speak.
"I can't stop you..." Wren looks into his eyes. "Just don't tell me..."
"Do you love him?"
Another scoff. "Maybe I did once… He was sweet at first. I don't know what changed."
"Why do you stay then?"
"Because he's all I have. Even if it hurts, he's all I've got."
–
Asking for another department's help isn't unusual. It happens all the time. Asking for help to protect a human? That is not normal. Which is why Chan goes to his trusted friend in the department: Minho.
"So, you want me to break the law and end a human's life to protect your new little toy?"
"She's not a toy, and yes."
"What's in it for me?"
"Minho, please. This is serious."
"And I'm being serious."
"I never ask you for anything."
Minho studies his friend. "This human must mean something if you want to protect her. You know she's not the only one who's in an abusive relationship."
"But I know her, not the others. If I could eradicate all scum, I would. She's who I know. She's the one I can help."
Minho gives in, not that he was actually going to deny Chan. "I suppose I can get one of my best to make it look like a natural death. You said he's a big guy, right?"
"Yeah. Probably works out. Might use steroids. Wouldn't be surprised if he eats a lot, too."
"How quickly does this need to happen?"
"The sooner the better, but I understand he will need to be studied to find the most natural cause of death."
"That's why my best demon will handle it. He's fast and efficient."
"Thank you, Minho," Chan says, readying himself to leave.
"She must be a good fuck if you want to help her this much."
He hums. "I wouldn't know."
"You're telling me you're doing this for a woman who hasn't asked you for sex? What makes her so special then?"
"She's really fucking good with a controller."
"What the fuck does that mean?"
Chan doesn't answer, leaving in the blink of an eye.
–
Wren went silent after that. Chan didn't get summoned and he didn't check on her either. As soon as he got word from Minho about the end of him, he knew she was smart enough to figure out he was behind it somehow. Her perfectly healthy—sorta—boyfriend dying of cardiac arrest? It's not unheard of, but it was too coincidental. Frankly, Chan expects her to hate him now, but at least he can exist knowing she's no longer in the hands of a guy like that.
Yet... he misses her. She was a good companion. He finds himself missing her more when he's summoned for pleasure again and again. The hours of sitting on her couch playing various video games was refreshing and different. What a sad excuse of an incubus he is to crave a nonsexual relationship. But she made everything feel so effortless and comforting. He'll miss Wren.
–
Chan steps into his shower after a long visit with a regular, ready to rid himself of her. It was a difficult one to get into. She wanted him to be rough and downright mean, which he usually has no issue doing for a client, but today, he couldn't get his head into it. He couldn't reach that level of degradation. She didn't seem to notice and had a good time, but he left unsatisfied. Aside from the fact he had to fake his orgasm , he felt melancholic about it all. What's happened to him?
He rubs down his face as water sprays over him. He's felt off his game for a little bit now. It was a gradual decline. One visit, he said something off putting. Another time he couldn't get a good rhythm. Little things that piled up and now leave him unsatisfied in every way. Even when he felt the boredom of the same request for sex with every summon, he still found ways to enjoy himself, but that no longer feels obtainable. His struggles are beginning to show in data and his boss isn't too happy.
"I think you miss your little Wren," Minho teased him one day. Since the day he took that abhorrent human out of existence, Minho has teased him relentlessly about "his little Wren." Chan wasn't sure where he learned her name and he wasn't too happy to hear him speak it, but Chan returned a shrug and walked away. He had no desire to defend himself. Minho could think what he wanted.
After his cleansing shower, Chan slips on some sweatpants and a zip up jacket he only zips halfway. His job is done for the day and he is ready to forget all of it. Maybe a nice workout will clear his head.
But as he heads toward the gym, a portal appears in front of him. There is no voice that calls out to him. The quiet mystical hum of the portal gives no hint to who has summoned him. He steps through anyway.
A slap lands on his cheek, stunning him for a moment until he looks down to see Wren, tears streaming down her face and cheeks reddened by what he can smell is alcohol.
"How fucking dare you," she says, fists clenched at her sides.
He knew this was coming. He knew that the next time she called him to her he'd have consequences to meet by her hand, although he wasn't expecting it to literally be by her hand.
"You killed him." She chokes out a sob and falls to her knees before plopping down on one hip, leaning against the side of her bed.
"Someone else did."
"You were still behind it!"
Chan sighs. "You've been drinking."
"That doesn't change the fact that you killed him!" Her sobs shake her whole body.
"How long were you with him?" His voice is gentle.
"Four years..."
"How long did he treat you like that?"
"I don't know..."
Chan stuffs his hands in his pockets and squats down to her level. "I think you do know. It had to be a long time considering how you knew exactly how we wanted you when he came over."
"You... You don't know anything..."
"I watched you become someone you're not. Was it to keep him from hitting you?"
"You were never supposed to know."
"Yeah," Chan agrees. "I also wasn't supposed to get attached." It felt strange admitting it out loud. Out loud to the person who managed to gain his attachment.
"Oh God, you're gonna haunt me, aren't you?"
"I don't haunt. I'm not a spirit."
The tears stop, but her body still trembles with emotion.
"His absence won't hurt over time, you know. Once you understand that there are people who will protect you and take care of you, you won't feel so lost without him." Chan runs his hand through his still slightly wet hair. The tangled silver strands catch on his fingers. "The sooner you accept that he was a piece of shit who didn't deserve your devotion, the better you'll be."
The glare Wren shoots his way makes him inwardly sigh. Why did he expect his words would reach her right now?
"Go away."
He stands. "You called me here."
"Yeah, and now I want you to leave me the fuck alone."
The portal reappears and he turns toward it, pausing for just a moment. "Call if you need anything, Wren." He steps through right as he hears her mumble "Fat chance."
–
The monotony of it all seems to crush Chan's spirits each time he returns from a summoning. Nothing's changed. The begging, the moans, the dirty talk he's forced to indulge in for their pleasure... it's all a performance to get his paycheck. Something he's built for feels empty and useless. For months he's considered requesting a new job, one that gives him the freedom to find his pleasure outside work hours. Even if it can't fix his melancholy, it's better than this.
His buddy and fellow incubus, Changbin, finishes up his squats and plops down next to Chan on the bench. "The demands of these women really inspire me to work hard. I'm not really upset about it though." He flexes his biceps and looks in the mirror. "I look fucking good."
Chan gives a half-hearted smile.
"How have your summons been?"
"Nothing special. It's always the same, I guess."
Changbin blinks in surprise. "Really? You haven't been summoned by someone with some freaky kinks?"
Of course he has. But he doesn't care . "Do we have to talk about this right now?"
"I mean, it's kind of our jobs. Are you okay, dude? You've been off for a while now."
"Do you ever feel like this job is unfulfilling?"
"I don't know. I'm having a pretty fulfilling time," Changbin says with a shrug.
"You don't get it."
"I don't know what I'm supposed to get, Chan. What's going on?"
Chan shakes his head and stands. "It doesn't matter. I'm gonna head home. Same time next week?"
"Yeah. Try to cheer up, okay?"
A nod and he's gone, off to wash away the sweat and frustration from another unsatisfying day. "Fuck," he mutters, turning the water as hot as it could go. Maybe it was time to go out and find something to help him feel. Fucking another demon isn't usually his vibe, but maybe it'll take the edge off of the disappointment he feels.
Enticing fellow demons isn't hard, but he still finds himself dressing in a way that shows off a little skin. The black cropped sleeveless shirt with a sheer three-quarter sleeved top over it will surely attract plenty of demons, giving him options. The added benefit of his slacks showing off the years of squat workouts will drive the onlookers feral. With one pleased glance in the mirror, Chan makes his way to the nearby club.
As predicted, many demons—mostly the succubi—are practically begging for his attention. He barely gives them the time of day, enjoying the game of being hard to get. Only the most intriguing will be lucky enough to gain his attention.
Except, he finds himself wishing to be left alone.
Surrounded by attractive demons, he feels nothing. He doesn't want any of them. Without a word, Chan stands and leaves, ignoring the whines and pouts that follow him out. Not even the hands trailing across his body as he drifts away can stop him.
Hands in his pocket, he kicks a rock down the street. It's frustrating not being able to enjoy life, or whatever his existence is. It's infuriating to fail to figure out what his problem is. Why can't he enjoy anything anymore? Was this simply the course of his life once he became tied to the restrictions of a career?
He sighs and snaps his fingers to get back home faster. Maybe he can sleep it off for what he's sure to be a busy day tomorrow.
A portal greets him as soon as he gets inside his apartment. He wonders how long it has been there. He hears a whisper of his name, so he takes a deep breath and steps through.
He doesn't expect to find himself in the familiar home of Wren. When he was met with almost a year of silence, he figured he would never see her again. He had accepted that she hated him for what he did and moved on from the irritating sense of loss of companionship. It was what it was and he had no reason to hang onto something so human within him.
"Wren," he says upon seeing the woman standing in front of him.
Her hair is shorter and a cherry cola color, put up in a half ponytail. She looks healthier than any other time he saw her. There's something different about her aura.
"Chan." Wren's eyes track down his body, taking in the outfit he had yet to change out of. "Am I interrupting something?"
"No. I was at a club."
"Looking for a good time?"
"I tried."
She raises an eyebrow. "You tried?"
"Nothing kept my attention."
"You were looking for sex." It's not a question.
He points at himself with a smirk. "Incubus."
"Don't you get summoned enough for it?"
"It's different when I choose how I find my pleasure."
Wren seems to ponder his words. "You don't like being summoned?"
"I once roamed your world, seeking dreaming women, and brought them to a point of euphoria they'd never feel by the hands of a man. The power to control a woman’s pleasure when she couldn't stop me was a rush." Chan stops himself from sinking into those delicious memories. "Now, I'm the toy for witches and women who find the magic of summoning. I'm used for their pleasure and find none for myself."
"Is it... bad? The sex?"
He chuckles. "No. In fact, if my job didn't leash me to this mundane way of life, the sex would be enjoyable. The witches are the most adventurous."
She looks at the ground but not without glancing at Chan's exposed stomach.
A smirk slides onto Chan's face, catching her eye line on his abdomen. Interesting. His little friend does have the ability to feel attraction on a basic level. Attraction for him, no less.
"So, why did you decide to summon me? I thought you were mad and never wanted to see me again."
"I never said I didn't want to see you again." There's a fire in her eyes.
"You were pretty pissed."
"Yeah, I was... but that didn't mean I was never going to... I kinda missed you."
That surprises Chan. This wasn't an "I miss you" he hears laced with arousal or a hidden motive. She means it.
"What's with that face?" she asks, not used to seeing other than some kind of amusement or seriousness on his features.
"You are strange. Missing a demon? The church would have you crucified."
"Well, it's a good thing I'm not religious."
He laughs. Much like the first time when she first summoned him. He can't help it. That's what he likes about Wren. She's real.
–
Chan likes when she summons him. He likes how often Wren calls out to him through the portal she sends for him. He likes that she calls for him just to talk sometimes. He feels better. And the electricity he feels when her curiosity brings out questions about his expertise... He craves her intrigue.
"What kind of things do some of the women who call you ask for?"
He leans back on her couch, spreading his legs a bit more. Tonight he's back in that outfit that shows off his abdomen because he knows how much Wren liked it the first time. This time, he's flexing a bit more to give her a peek at his dedication to his body. Each time her eyes drift, his pride inflates. "Are you sure you wanna know all the naughty requests I get?"
She shrugs. "Why not? I'm not a prude. I know the kinks."
"Hm, do you now?"
"Well, yeah. I've got Internet and I've read my fair share of raunchy stories. The dark ones are always quite interesting. Odd objects getting put into orifices they don't belong in, lots of blood, stalking, consensual non-consensual sex, the various illegal or socially unaccepted sexual experiences..."
"That is quite the catalog, huh." Chan grins at her, catching the steady rise in her heart rate. Something she's thinking about has her excited.
"I've always been curious. The women in the stories I've read always seem so satisfied even after the most intense sexual encounters."
He understands now. She's not known true satisfaction for herself, only ever being the toy for someone else's pleasure. In a way, they're similar.
"I get a lot of them asking for a bloody experience," he says finally. "Others like when I stuff them full in every way possible until they're weeping from overstimulation. Lately, a witch has found herself interested in being chased by a potential killer, obviously, no killing involved."
"Hm. I don't think that's something I'd ever want to experience."
Chan wonders if that bastard boyfriend of hers ever entertained ideas like that to scare her.
"Now the other thing, I'm curious. How does one... 'stuff them full?'"
Shadow-like tendrils reach out from behind him, swaying around him like snakes. "I have tricks up my sleeve."
With wide eyes, Wren reaches out to touch one near her. Where she expects her hand to pass through, she actually comes in contact with something almost tentacle-like. "This is very Slenderman of you, ya know."
"But I'm real, not some being imagined to scare children."
"No, but you are meant to scare women and religious folk," Wren grins. "Do you have feeling in these things?" She runs her hand along the first one she touches.
"Yes."
"Do you clean them?"
A laugh. "They don't get dirty."
"Even after exploring the inside of a client?"
"Even then. The things of demons don't work the way you think in this limited plane." He recalls them once her hand drops in her lap. "You're curious."
Wren shrugs and pulls her knees up to her chin. "Thanks for showing me, Chan. I like talking about this stuff. Helps me process."
"He wasn't good to you ever, was he?"
A moment, then she slowly shakes her head. He can see she's grown from the lies she told herself, told him in her mourning. "I had nowhere to go though... No one to turn to. So, I just dealt with it and tried to keep him happy."
"And yet."
She nods a little. "I could never truly do that. I'd always do something wrong. Even when I let him do whatever he wanted to me, it never was enough." Wren tugs down the collar of her shirt where a jagged scar sits on the swell of her left breast. "He wanted to use a knife. He wanted... he wanted to put it-put it in me. I told him it was too dangerous and I could die if it cut me, so... he threw it at me and stormed out. I thought he was gonna kill me."
Chan remains silent.
"I was mad at you back then because no one was supposed to know what he did to me. I knew people would want me to leave him, but I didn't know how to be alone. He'd been around for so long. Then he was gone. And you know what? I think I was so mad because I felt relieved. I was still scared shitless about being alone, but at least I wasn't being hurt by him."
"How do you feel now?"
"Well, I'm not mad at you. In fact, I'm grateful. I'm sorry for reacting the way I did and that I couldn't get out of the relationship on my own. But mostly, I feel free. I'm still scared when I sit there and think about how I don't really have anyone anymore, but, um, your company helps a lot."
"You know that I still have to do my job, right?"
"Duh. I'm not planning on summoning you all the time, but it's nice knowing that I have someone ."
That causes a slight ache in his chest, something he's never felt for a human. It isn't pity, no... it's sadness. His lips part and he speaks a phrase that leaves himself a bit dumbfounded. "Let me take care of you."
Instead of shock, Wren laughs. "Chan, you're a demon. You can't take care of me."
And for some reason, that frustrates him. "Why does that matter?"
"Demons don't have the capacity to care."
"You don't know anything about us beyond stereotypes and stories. Demons can care and do. Why do you think I had someone take care of that sad excuse you called a boyfriend? Did you think it was just to fulfill some lust for death? Hate to break it to you, but I care."
Wren gazes at him, her lips slightly parted, her assumptions flipped on their back.
A change in the air.
Her lips on his.
Chan effortlessly brings her to straddle his lap, hands grasping her hips to keep her right where he wants. He doesn't push. He doesn't force. He holds her and responds to her lips like he's starved. In some ways, he feels like he has been. Starved of her.
Wren's hands explore up his chest and shoulders, stopping once they cup his face with a reverence he hasn't felt before. His fingers twitch against her.
Everything stops as quickly as it started, Wren tumbling off his lap onto the floor with a gasp and wide eyes. "Ohmygod." It's like a chant out of her mouth. Gaze bouncing everywhere except toward Chan.
"Are you hurt?" he asks, noting the fall was a bit hard for a short drop. There's also a little bit of annoyance from her reaction. Did she not want him?
"I don't know what came over me," she murmurs, fingertips pressed to her lips now. They appear slightly swollen. Barely noticeable, except he can tell since it was his lips that caused it.
"You're not breaking a law for kissing a demon, ya know."
"But it's... you."
"Am I so horrible? I can't be worse than the other guy."
"It's not..." Wren pauses, still refusing to look at him, but now her fingers are caressing her lips. Chan's eyes lock onto the movement. She liked it. "I summoned you, well, not specifically you , strictly for friendship. I-I was never looking for intimacy or-or sex. Just a friend."
"That is not something friends do."
"I know! I don't know why I did it!"
Chan leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. Gentle fingers trace along her jaw. "But you liked it." He can practically taste the trembling excitement that dances along her skin at his touch.
She doesn't respond, averting her gaze.
His fingers trace down her neck but stop before reaching her shirt collar. He pulls them back and tilts his head. "Is it what I am? A seducer of women? A perverter of dreams?"
"I... I don't want to get hurt again." The voice from her lips is small and afraid. It screams of the trauma done to her mind and her body.
There's a tug at the mangled remains of a heart within his chest. "Why would I hurt you? Do you think of me as a monster?"
"Isn't that what demons are?" Now she looks at him, eyes sharpened by her fear. "You prey on women in their sleep."
"Monsters are the humans who touch innocent children. Monsters are the humans who bomb civilizations for being different. Monsters abuse and take and steal from those who have nothing." Chan leans in closer, pleased Wren doesn't scoot away. " I give . I bring pleasure to women dreaming of something better. They call out to me, begging for something they can't find. I bring peace to the day after, fulfillment. I take the pleased smiles and vacant stares when their dream replays like a film in their heads the next day. My pleasure is unlocking theirs.
"Your stupid men of God tell you lies to keep you from turning them away for supernatural beings they can never compare to. All your books and films and shows tell the same story of demons being evil and rotten when it's these men who are the true evil. They're rotting from the inside out. Every sin they proudly exploit for their pleasure sends them deeper into a hell only they will know. They are the true demons who possess what is good and tarnish purity. The evil you think can only be of a demon like me runs rampant in humanity. We unlock pleasures. They eviscerate everything they touch."
Wren is trembling again. He can see her processing his words—the truth—and compartmentalizing what they mean in her limited knowledge of the universe. But he also sees her hesitation to believe him.
"How do I know you aren't lying to me?" she finally asks, voice soft.
Chan gazes at the spot he knows her knife scar sits. "You don't, but I know you have the experience to believe me enough. Your own encounter with evil is just one example that supports my words. But I know hundreds of moments from history are flooding your mind. More proof." His eyes snap to hers. "You might even have people you know or heard of who are living proof of what I mean." Again, he traces a finger along her jawline. "I find no pleasure in your pain."
She doesn't pull away from his touch and he keeps only one point of contact, waiting... watching. He'll leave if she wants. He'll stay if she asks. Chan is what he is; he seeks out opportunities for sexual escapades to fuel his survival. His job is to seduce and fuck. There, sitting in front of Wren, easing her fears with words and his careful touch, he doesn't give a fuck about any of it. She is his only reason.
If Changbin ever finds out he's gotten attached to a woman—one he basically broke demonic law to keep safe—Chan will never hear the end of it.
His attention is drawn to her timid touch on his knee. There's a kind of anticipation for something in her movement, almost like she's expecting him to stop her.
"Did he let you touch him?"
Wren's hand freezes.
"Only when he demanded you then. Or did he only see you as a fleshlight?"
"He didn—"
"Don't defend that lowlife. He craved power and you were the perfect target for him. He was a piece of shit." Chan stands, gently guiding Wren to her feet, too. One hand lifts the fabric of his cropped top, exposing a lot more of his torso. His other hand presses her warm palm to his abdomen. "Touch is the experience. Denying it leads to lackluster and boring intimacy. It becomes performative rather than genuine. Pleasure is held at a distance. If you don't touch, you miss out on what makes it feel good."
Her eyes are glued to her hand touching his flexed abs, feeling the hot flesh with its dips and planes under her palm. His hand, large and veiny, circles her wrist. His touch is soft. His abdomen is not.
"Feed your curiosity Wren. I won't stop you. I don't want to stop you."
Hesitation sits heavy in her gaze when she looks up at him again. Does she think he won't like her touch? He burns where her hand sits now and he wants to feel that. Chan hasn't felt that sort of excitement since he was forced into a job. This is what he's been missing.
Chan releases her wrist, smirking when she doesn't remove her hand. Good. She wants to touch him.
Wren's brow furrows, eyes dropping to her hand again. Her fingers barely move, but his nerves spark anyway. "You feel... human," she says. The pressure of her hand eases for a second. Her hand shifts a centimeter. The pressure returns.
"If I came into a woman's dream looking like a demon, she'd wake and miss out on a good time."
Eyes scan over him. She repeats the same slow movement of her hand, higher now, fingers brushing the edge of his shirt he still holds. "And why this look?" Her eyes widen. "You didn't possess this poor man did you?"
A laugh. "No. I became the image of what women prefer. Well, what the women I found wanted. And I adopt features I would want to see in the mirror."
"Do women not want someone... taller ?"
"That isn't funny." His eyes say otherwise.
It's her turn to laugh. "So, I guess you can't control your height. So you're just this tall as a demon, huh?" Her hand slides a few centimeters more across his abdomen.
His free hand tilts her chin up and keeps their gazes locked. "I don't need to be tall to have a woman screaming my name."
Wren hums, finally dropping her hand at her side. Chan lets go of his shirt, but doesn't take his hand from her face.
"What do you think?" Chan asks with another tilt of his head.
"Of what? Your looks? Does it matter?"
"I wanna know." His voice is quiet, but full of earnest.
She pulls her bottom lip in between her teeth. It tickles Chan's ego. He might not know her thoughts, but he's well-versed in the body language of women. He knows what she's feeling.
"I think you're pretty for a demon."
That was a new one. "Pretty?"
"Yeah."
"Hm."
"That's all you have to say? Seeking a compliment only to respond like that? I expected more."
Chan takes a risk and moves his hand to her waist. She doesn't react. "Let me take care of you." He prods her toward him with the hand on her waist. She can leave if she wants, but it's time to make his wants known. She'll never have to wonder what sexual satisfaction feels like ever again.
"Chan." Her voice is small, but she doesn't push him away. It almost feels like she leans into him.
"Tell me what you want. I'll give it to you. Anything."
"I don't know what I want..."
"Tell me what intrigues you, what makes your heart race at the thought. Tell me and I'll give it to you."
She doesn't say anything. She doesn't try to put more distance between them. He watches her think, her brow scrunching the more intensely she ponders his words.
"What about normal things?" Wren asks.
"I said anything." He may not know what she means, but he hasn't lied.
Even if the thing she wants is a hug, her ear pressed to the center of his chest. His coworkers would call him pathetic or weak if they could see the fond smile he gives while looking at the top of her head, wrapping his arms around her middle. In the end, he doesn't give a fuck what they would say because he has her.
"It's kinda weird you don't have a heartbeat," Wren murmurs, unmoving. "But you're warm."
"I can only do so much."
"I kinda like it." Her hands shift, palms now directly on the skin of his lower back. "Other than for looks, is there a reason you're so muscular?"
His chuckle is deep. "The witches have high demands. The more fit I am, the more I can meet their needs."
"Mm, that makes sense."
Chan suddenly lifts her off the floor, hands under her thighs when she gasps and latches onto him like a koala.
"What are you doing?!"
"Carrying you."
"To prove a point?"
He starts toward her bedroom, looking at her bewildered face. "There is something I need to do and my patience is wearing a little thin."
"Did I do something... wrong?" The self doubt takes over her being and he feels it before he sees it.
"Not at all." After entering her room, he carefully places her on the bed. "I enjoy your company and talking about the mundane human things you care about." Chan leans over her, hands on either side of her thighs, holding him up so he's eye level. He sneaks a kiss to her mouth, his lips firm and sure and quick. "But the content of tonight's conversation has me determined to prove to you that your assumptions and expectations of me are wrong."
"Are you suggesting—?"
"I'm not suggesting. I'm being intentional."
"What if I don't want that?"
He chuckles. "Stop it. You know what you're feeling and I know, too. How do you think I was able to find needy dreaming women when I was younger? Your body is calling out to me. And it's not because of any tactics I could use to attract you. You like me. You want me, Wren." Leaning closer, his lips brush the shell of her ear. "I want you, too. I want to make you feel good."
She swallows. She thinks. He waits. He nuzzles the side of her head with his nose. Chan will not push her more mostly because he knows she wants whatever he can offer her—which is more than her mind can think up. She's unsure. Years of abuse and selfish intimacy has left her questioning if she should let herself get what she wants.
Chan runs a hand up her thigh to her waist. Her shirt lifts to reveal a sliver of skin, so he reaches his thumb over to massage the bare flesh. His desire to touch her more grows upon hearing her sharp inhale.
"You deserve to feel wanted and sexy . I won't leave until you've come so many times that you forget how to feel anything except desired."
His words do exactly what he intended. He senses the moment her arousal spikes. He can smell the change in the air. Chan smiles and pulls her into another kiss, this time with an end goal in mind. His ego practically purrs when Wren responds with more enthusiasm than when she straddled him on the couch.
It isn't until her lips look plush and swollen when he pulls away, standing to his full height to pull his top over his head. He takes her hands and presses them against his skin, giving her obvious permission to touch him all she wants. And oh how her hands wander.
She caresses and explores, grabs and squeezes. Chan feels his body spark when she begins kissing and biting wherever she can reach, all without his guidance or prompting. It's exactly what he wants her to do. His body is hers to explore and enjoy how she sees fit. And he wants to do this for her. It's not a job to be done. True to his word, he is there to help her find pleasure.
Wren bites hard on his shoulder, making him breathe heavier. His pants feel tight and he knows she can feel him with how she's pressed along his front. Chan rolls his hips. She moans in his ear. Light. Airy. Her lips crash into his, sloppy and wet and needy.
Hands on his belt, their kiss ends and she gazes at him with lust and uncertainty in her eyes. A subtle nod and her hands are moving with practiced ease. He recognizes that she has had to do this in the past and almost stops her actions to take care of it himself, but there's no trembling in her hands and no fear in her eyes. No need to stop her.
So, he stands there, watching her hands rid him of his belt followed by his pants. A moment of satisfaction when she realizes she has no underwear to take off him—he's a sex demon after all. It melts away into offense when a close relative of disappointment crosses her features. His very human-looking dick has brought thousands of women pleasure incomprehensible in the realm of humanity. Was she so stuck on that trash boyfriend that any other cock can't compare? Wait, she's seen it before. Albeit he was not aroused when she had, but did her memory think up something different?
Chan's brow creases in annoyance. "What's that face for?"
Wren looks at him. "What's that face for?"
"You’re unsatisfied with it."
It takes her a second to catch on. "What? Um, not exactly?" She looks at it again. "It's just so... human. I was expecting some crazy demon dick or something."
Naked and usually the ideal visual of a perfect human male specimen, Chan laughs from deep in his chest. Never would he think any woman would be disappointed in a penis because it isn't demonic enough. Wren, with all her trauma and baggage and hesitation, judging him for being too human…
"I wasn't trying to be funny," she says, raising an eyebrow at his outburst. "But with all your talk about pleasing women with it, I thought you had to have some crazy dick or something, but no. It's just... it's just a penis." Wren looks up at him seriously. "Still impressive, just not what I imagined."
"Did you not see me naked before? When I first showed up here at your bidding?"
Then she blushes. "I was trying not to look! I wanted a friend, so what sort of penis you have wasn't really at the forefront of my mind."
"But you've imagined it then?"
"Oh jeez I shouldn't have said anything..."
He laughs again, lighter. Endeared. "Demon cock is not for the faint of heart. Whatever you've imagined is wrong."
"You don't know that."
"I can show you." Chan leans down, lips latching onto her neck and trailing up to her ear. He smiles against her flesh hearing her breath kick up. "And I can fuck you with it if you want," he whispers. "No woman has ever wanted it, but if you do, I'll give it to you."
Her breathing seems to come a bit harder for her, a hand touching his shoulder and sliding into his hair. She grips at the roots when he nibbles on the flesh where her jaw comes up to meet her ear.
"Tell me what you want... babygirl."
She mumbles his name. Her lips meet the top of his shoulder. Her other hand clutches his bicep. She likes that. Did he ever call her by some name? Was it derogatory? Was it simply to make her believe he fucked her out of love? Chan can be sure if she's been called anything, it wasn't to make her feel good.
"I wanna see."
She's so quiet he almost doesn't hear over the rapid beating of her heart and her shallow breaths. Chan almost thinks she's on the verge of a panic attack, but her inability to sit still the longer he kisses, nibbles and nuzzles her flesh tells a different story.
Freeing even just a portion of himself from the costume he's worn far too long is liberating. The relief is instant. His warm breath fans over her neck from the sigh. She probably doesn't even know he no longer sports that boring human cock anymore. She'll know soon enough.
Chan takes one of his hands and clutches the hem of her t-shirt. If she'll let him, it's time to get her naked, too. He has a lot of work to do to make sure she's satisfied and wanting more. Tugging up, he feels her breath hitch. He pulls back enough to look in her eyes.
"I know, I know. You want to spend your time studying me and delaying what you want," he says, leaving a chaste kiss to her mouth. "But for me to please you the way I've promised, you need to be naked, too."
"But I thought—"
"You will get to see it, touch it, whatever you please. Do me this one thing. Help me help you. You can undress yourself if you want, too. I don't have to do it."
"You can... You can do it." That familiar self doubt creeps into her posture again and he just knows it's because of him. He'll fix it. He'll take care of her. She'll never doubt or be afraid to seek out what she wants from him. He'll squash those ill thoughts with his bare hands if he must.
"Okay. Arms up and close your eyes."
"Why?"
Chan grins. "Because I know you'll get distracted and delay this longer. So, close 'em and raise your arms."
She doesn't like it, but she listens to his commands. Chan finds himself watching her face for a moment, taking in that he finds her cute with her arms raised and a delicate flush upon her cheeks. Changbin, Minho, any of them can never know what this woman stirs up in him.
Smoothly, Chan pulls her shirt up and over her head. As soon as her arms are free, she wraps them around herself and tenses up.
"I'm not going to touch you except to strip you," he assured. "I'd rather your eyes be open so I can watch them close when you come."
Wren scolds him, her voice lacking firmness. But she drops her arms.
His fingers unclasp her bra and gently ease the straps down her tense shoulders to remove it completely. "So pretty, babygirl," he says, keeping his promise to not touch her yet. "Lie back, yeah?" Her breath trembles and she once again listens to him.
Nimble fingers unfasten her jeans and slip under the waistbands of them and her panties. A few pulls and a gentle ask to raise her hips, she lying there as nude as him. Chan tosses her bottoms somewhere in the room, eyes glued to her form. He leans over her, hands on either side of her waist, and encourages her to open her eyes again.
"Where would you like me, Wren?" He knows what her eyes immediately drift to, but he catches her chin and makes her look at his face. "I can lie down here if you want. Or you can ask me to stand."
"You can lie down. I don't want you to be uncomfortable."
He chuckles. "My sweet Wren," he feels something in him purr, "I'm built to last wherever you want me."
"No, I know." She reaches up and traces his lips with a single finger. "You should... You should be comfortable, too."
Oh, she could ask anything of him and he'd do it willingly. "Okay. Sit up then and let me get settled." His gaze is firm. "You can look, but wait to touch."
"I'm not a dog..."
Chan is quick to pull her into a deep passionate, open-mouthed kiss. Hand at the back of her head to hold her close, the other grasping her side. "No," he speaks against her parted lips. "You're not a dog. I just need you to be patient until I'm ready for your exploratory touches. It's been a long time since I've felt any touch without the barrier of this human mask."
"You sound like a teenager trying to fuck his first girlfriend."
"You make me feel like one," he admits. "Now sit up. C'mon."
Like he expected, her eyes track downward even as he climbs onto her bed l and settles into her pillows. His thigh presses against her bent knees and his hands go behind his head. Chan grins at her naked form, politely waiting for his verbal okay, but her eyes disrespectfully studying every possible thing about the strange and unusual penis in front of her.
He guesses for a human it isn't normal, despite the similarities between it and human ones. He's thicker than his human version, only minimally longer, curved upward for maximum pleasure. It is far more textured, similar to a lizard, short bumps all across the length. The ridges, almost like gills, down both sides could be intimidating, more of that spiny texture along the peak of each, but every bit of him is fleshy. Even the sheath-like skin at the base is malleable to touch. But he can assume the head of is cock is the most unusual and intimidating. Instead of the mushroom adjacent shape of a human penis, his is more like a spike that curves a little downward much like a claw. It's just as fleshy as the rest of him, leaks cum like a regular cock, it just has a more precise angle to impregnate a woman if it is so desired.
Oh, and it is red. Well, the tip and base are and the shaft ombres into a pale pink. The sheath is a darker red that ombres to deep purple-black, the skin of his testicles the same color.
"Come on, it's not that different," he teases, her unwavering stare tickling his ego.
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
He laughs. "I think you're overreacting, Wren."
"That is meant to impale. That can't feel good."
"Feels no different than a human one."
"Why does it look like that?"
"Because that's what color I am."
"Right." She shivers a little, but doesn't pay it any mind. "Can I touch you?"
"I said you can. The sooner you get your inspection underway, the sooner I can fuck you dumb."
Wren flushes from her neck up. "O-Okay..."
Chan is going to laugh again, but he's thrown completely off when her small hand wraps around him, sliding up to feel all the textures. He feels a dribble of precum leak from his tip.
"That's so weird," she mutters, unhanding him to run her pointer across the ridges.
He takes a deep breath. "Hey."
She glances at him. "I'm not calling you weird." She brings her finger near the tip. "You know how human dicks have a super sensitive spot under the head? Do demon dicks have the same kind of thing?"
"Mm depends on the demon." He reaches down to show her. "That little dip where the tip and shaft meet on top and the underside of the tip are the most sensitive."
Of course, her exploring shifts to those areas, her thumb running along them. When his hips jerk a little, she does it again with her bottom lip between her teeth. A look of mischief crosses her features right as she wets the pad of her thumb with precum that she soon smears across those sensitive spots, alighting a fire through his cock to the rest of his body. Oh, he's going to make her chant his name like a prayer.
Lightning quick, he sits up, takes her in his arms and lays her under him. His lips meet hers. He drags his hand up her side to her breast, the length of his pointer to thumb pressed along the underside of it. She arches up into him with a quiet moan.
Their lips disconnect and reconnect with subtle sounds of moisture until his tongue slips past her lips to meet hers. He squeezes her breast, rubs his thumb across her pert nipple. Her gasps and moans are swallowed by his eager lips. Fuck, he's not been this turned on in so long.
He rests his lower half on hers, his cock pressed between them. The shift of her hips, the whine caught in her throat, she's letting herself feel good.
"What do you want?" he asks, lips now attaching to her neck where he bites and sucks on the skin. "Let me take care of you."
"Can't you just..." She rubs herself against him, feeling the unique texture of his cock catch on her clit. She does it again with a gasping breath. "Just fuck me."
" Babygirl," he starts. "We're not doing this the way you know. I'm not aiming to hurt you."
"But I want it."
"No." It's firm. "You're going to come at least three times before my cock is inside you, okay?"
Her hips jump a little. "T-Three?"
"Mmhmm." His hand on her chest slips down between them. He lifts his hips to run his fingers through her folds, massaging the sensitive flesh. "We're gonna make sure you can take me with little to no pain."
Two fingers slide into her warmth, a high moan spilling from her pretty mouth. He kisses her jawline. Fingers drag in and out of her at a leisurely pace, but her hips cannot stop moving to meet his hand. It isn't until he hears her mutter to go faster that he does. The way she thanks him through her pleasured sounds brings a smile to his face.
Her cunt squeezes his fingers like it wants him to become a permanent piece of her. His thumb finds her clit and she cries out so sweetly. He kisses her mouth as a soft apology for not giving her what she wants immediately.
Wren's body locks up, arching more into his chest. Mouth open, eyes closed... but the muscles around his digits flutter and squeeze and spasm. She fell apart so fast. He wants to take full credit for it, but he knows it's more likely because she's not properly come from the efforts—or lack there of—of a man in a long time.
Once she collapses from her orgasm, he removes his fingers and massages her clit with the barest of touches. He doesn't want her to lose the sensitivity to allow another orgasm quickly, but he refuses to abuse her recuperating body.
"Feel good?"
She hums, eyes blinking as if she's woken up from a nap.
"Two more and I'll give you what you want. Think you can handle two back to back?"
Wren nods even though it appears she might not have fully come down from the high. He chuckles at that, fingers still moving against her.
"I'm gonna have to use some help though. Are you okay with that?"
Again she nods.
He sits up, leaving her exposed to the chill of the room. From his back, the shadow tentacles he showed her earlier make their appearance and reach out toward her. Her eyes shoot open, feeling more than two hands touch her. But her excitement spikes and he can smell it.
"Oh, so you like them more than you let on," Chan says, caressing her cheek with one while he licks his fingers clean, one taking over stimulating her clit like he was. Two wrap around her thighs, massaging them with care to ease any anxieties she might be feeling. Two more caress her sides up to her breasts where they stay and light the nerve endings there. Another slithers across her shoulders and collarbone, wrapping around her throat like a delicate necklace. It touches around her neck and face like an attentive lover. It even gets a tiny giggle from her.
"Is there any place you do not want these?" Chan leans over her again, brushing her hair from her reddened face. "I will admit that I would rather not see one in your mouth, but this is your experience."
"Why not?" Her voice is slowly gaining strength. Her hips twitch a little.
"It'll make me want to raise him from the dead just to kill him again." His lips press to hers. "In the future, sure, but not this time, yeah?"
The tentacle on her clit presses in a bit more and she whines. "O-Okay."
"No objections then?"
Wren shakes her head.
"If it's too much, say so. I'll stop. Otherwise, enjoy the ride."
Every shadow limb starts to move. The one around her neck leaves its version of "kisses" along her jawline and neck, never tightening around her because Chan has no desire to see her gasping for air this time.
The two at her breasts knead and pinch. They seek out what actions make her whine the most. And her whines are gorgeous to his ears. Chan reaches out to splay his hand across her stomach, feeling her breaths as his extra appendages bring her pleasure. Her flesh bumps under his skin when he runs his hand along her side. There is something about touching her that brings him immense satisfaction.
The two tentacles wrapped around her thighs are the most adventurous in their movements. The one that had replaced Chan's fingers on her clit moves to run up and down the entire length of her, the tip teasing her entrance for a second before slipping back up to massage that sensitive bundle of nerves. Chan feels the tingle up his back each time she flutters around the tip. But the second one? It slinks across her heated flesh to her ass where it massages around to ease any tension. When it prods at her asshole, she squeaks and gazes at Chan with surprise on her face.
He smirks. "You didn't say no."
"I've never... Will it hurt?"
"Yes. But I'll make sure it doesn't hurt much."
The tentacle prodding at her secretes a slick substance that it smears around while also gently pushing into her. Never does it push beyond the resistance, but it doesn't let up.
Wren gasps and grimaces at the foreign feeling, but the shadow limb playing with her cunt pushes in and fills her up, distracting her from the pain. Chan hums at the feeling, his cock jumping slightly. She feels good squeezing his tentacle. It presses against her g-spot, rubbing that area while Chan brings his hand to her clit. His movements aren't fast, but steady to help her relax some more.
"Don't tense, babygirl. Let it in and I promise it'll feel good after."
She tries, the appendage pushing in a little more. The muscles tighten when the sharp pain comes back. "Hurts, Channie," she whimpers. The tentacle around her neck nuzzles against her cheek and explores ways to soothe her.
Chan grins at the cute way she said his name. It's the first time he's had someone call him Channie and he's decided that only Wren has the privilege to call him such. "I know. Keep relaxing."
More slick coats the tentacle to help it push in more. Each time she whines, it stops pushing and secretes more substance to help it slip in. It makes it a little deeper then repeats. Before long, it finally breaches, making her cry out one more time. Her cries turn into moans as the slick covered appendage slowly moves in and out of her hole. The one in her cunt follows suit, alternating thrusts.
Chan watches her body with his every intention for her pleasure being met. She writhes and arches with the continued pleasure. Her moans break each time he presses a little harder on her clit as his fingers continue their languid circles. Each time she squeezes around his tentacles, the feeling goes straight to his cock..
"Ch-Chan—I'm gonna—"
"Go ahead. You don't need permission from me to come."
And she does, her pelvic floor tensing so hard that it forces his appendages to stop completely. He can't pull them out if he tries. Chan doesn't stop his fingers on her clit. Not when she comes down from her orgasm and not when she whines about it being too much. Instead, the tentacle in her ass leaves her to push one leg so her knee is closer to her head. Chan takes his free hand and does the same with her other leg, leaving her spread open while his tentacle continues to fuck her.
"One more," Chan says, smiling at the pathetic sounds from her parted lips. She's barely in the room with him. He knows she's still in the stars from coming twice. It's where he wants her. Euphoria . "I'm not stopping. Let yourself feel it again. It'll be fast."
"I can't!"
"You can. Let it happen. I'll catch you." He doesn't know why he said it. It's not like she's going to fall through her bed to the floor. But he means it.
Just like he said, the third orgasm he calls forth crashes over her. Her head tilts back with her silent moan. Her cunt spasms and leaks in a way he knows she's not experienced. Chan helps guide her legs into a normal position, pulling the appendage out of her as soon as her hips twitch from overstimulation. Each tentacle on her body slithers away and back into him, allowing her to come back to herself at her own pace.
"You're okay," he says, voice soft. It almost sounds like he cares too much. "You did well, Wren."
She's almost unresponsive, but a little twitch of her lips tells him she's almost back to reality. Only then does he move to lie beside her. His dark eyes watch her chest rise and fall with her slowing breaths, trailing up to her face, eyes closed and lips parted. She looks at peace, a look he's not seen on her before. With a gentle touch, Chan caresses her cheek, her jaw, even her nose. Fingertips brush over her swollen lips, down her throat. Goosebumps are left in their wake.
It takes another few seconds for her to peel her eyes open, instantly seeking him out. A pretty smile appears on her face. "That was... fun ."
A chuckle. "How do you feel?"
"Like I'm floating."
"Does anything hurt?"
Wren visibly ponders his question. "I'm a little sore, but okay."
"I suspect you won't be walking tomorrow."
"What?! But I have work!"
"Call out."
"Is it really going to hurt that much?"
"Maybe not tonight. Tomorrow morning will be a different story." Chan trails his fingers down the center of her chest to her bellybutton where he traces around it. "You won't be moving, baby."
Wren bends her knees and stretches her upper body, trying to distract from her face reddening. Chan's palm presses to her stomach while she does, his eyes raking over the curvature of her body.
"Are you ready to continue or do you need to rest longer?"
"Um..." she lifts her head enough to take in his supernatural cock. "I guess?"
"You need to be sure or else this is the end of our rendezvous." What happened to the Chan that would always take? What is it about her that has him seeking consent like this? Why was he so pissed watching her be treated like a sex toy when she's just a pathetic little human? He doesn't know what to make of the thoughts she's stirred up in his head.
"Is it gonna, ya know, fit?"
Chan nods. "Never had a problem with cunts smaller than yours."
"O-Okay then. Just... be gentle? And... And don't impregnate me. Please."
"I only allow for that to happen if I'm asked." Chan sits up, going to where her knees are bent. Large hands pull her knees apart to allow his hips between her thighs. When she spreads them wider, he leans all the way over, hands holding him above her. "I will be as gentle as I can handle, but I can't promise I won't fuck you harder when I'm close."
Wren's flesh burns a bright red. "Will I come again?"
Chan gives her a toothy grin, reaching down to grab the base of his cock and angle it right at her entrance. "You can count on it." He pushes his hips forward.
Neither show visible reactions to his tip pushing it. It's when more enters her that causes them both to breathe heavier. Wren gasps and lets out a soft "ah" with every little stretch of her walls. Chan grunts deep in his chest and fights off the urge to push all the way in with one hard thrust. Has he ever felt this good inside a woman? There isn't a time he can recall where he struggled to keep his cool while forcing himself into a woman in need of his services. His shadow tentacles hardly felt this good inside her.
"Chan," she moans. He wonders what she's feeling, if every ridge and bump on his cock is tantalizing her from the inside out as he pushes forward more.
"A little more, babygirl." A flutter around him. "Mm you really like that pet name. Maybe I should have you call me daddy."
She shakes her head. "He—"
Chan growls. "Absolutely not. Call me anything, but that." Fuck that piece of shit. He hums again. "Why don't you call me—" he sinks into her a little more than he intends, causing both of them to fill the room with their moans. "Call me Channie."
She does immediately, arching up into his chest, arms wrapping around his shoulders, and hips jerking enough to pull him in a little more. The moment he bottoms out, sure and steady, Wren brings her knees to his waist. She kisses him to muffle her sounds, fingers tangling in his hair. Chan responds to her kiss with voracity. Feeling her muscles adjust to him, no human cock barrier and no tentacle, he wants to steal her away into his plane of existence and keep her there forever with him. He'll be an outcast for wanting the limitations of a human.
At the soft begging of the woman under him, Chan pulls out a little and pushes back in. A few slow thrusts later, he pulls almost the whole way out, but then shoves him back into her cunt hard . He can feel the tip of his cock catch on her cervix. The whimpered "ow" almost has him apologizing for it. Instead, he does it again, but stops short, earning a more pleasing sound in return. He's found his range. His hips speed up.
"Ch-Channie, ohmygod," Wren says through gasped breaths, her nails digging into his back. It makes his hips surge forward off his rhythm, but he corrects and keeps going.
Chan could fuck her for hours if she would let him, but with the exhaustion starting to show in her body despite his job well done, he only wants one more orgasm from her. And if he's worked her right—he has—only a few circles on her clit should get her over. Everything about his dick is meant to please a woman in every way possible, each ridge and bump in places to stimulate from every angle. It's what helps sleeping women come in their dreams, but he's not used to his demon cock being in a woman who is wide awake. Chan can only imagine how it feels for Wren. The way her body moves to meet him half way, the beautiful noises she lets out the longer he pumps into her, they're his cues for his performance. Except, this feels far beyond a performance. It feels real.
"Please be close," Wren says, close to his ear as his lips suck on the flesh of her shoulder.
"Gonna come again?" He doesn't take his mouth away from her skin. Thankfully, he's not too far from his peak. Watching her take his tentacles so well, accepting all three orgasms with little complaint, his affections taking hold in his chest, have brought him almost to the brink of his own pleasure. His thrusts pick up speed and hit a little deeper the longer her walls adjust to his size.
Hips sure and strong, he lets his head relax on the shoulder he's marked. Her heart is racing. Her arms tighten around his shoulders. Something unintelligible is muttered from her lips. His name? Gratitude? No matter what she said, it all comes together for him and with one more deep thrust, Chan spills into her. He can barely get his fingers to move over her clit in time to have her coming around his cock while spurts of cum shoot into her. Her squeezing is almost too much, but he doesn't pull out once he's empty. In fact, he gently lays his body atop hers with his face pressing into her neck.
Wren breathes heavily under his relaxed weight, her arms tightening even more around him. Cheek pressed to the top of his head, her eyes close. It feels domestic and comforting. Chan can feel that little tug in his chest that reminds him of who he is, what he is. He can't have her.
"I thought I said not to impregnate me." Her voice has a teasing lilt to it, but the tone is serious.
"I didn't," he says, not moving. "Before my creation, demons would fill women with a child to cause chaos. But the time I came about, the law no longer allowed that and still doesn't. We only can give a child if it is wanted. Unlike human men, we can fuck and come inside with a guarantee there will be no child."
She hums. "So more demon magic shit?"
"Yeah," he laughs, warm breath ghosting across her skin. "Demon magic shit."
Silence hovers over them. Gentle sounds of the house and natural body noises are all they hear. It's peaceful, yet full of something unsaid. Something that will never be shared between them.
"How long can you stay?" It's like she's afraid to shatter the fragile unspoken thing the both hold.
"As long as you want... within reason. I still have a job to do."
A pause. "Shower with me? I... I don't think I can walk or stand."
Chan laughs, finally bringing himself to get up. He gingerly pulls out and sits upright. "C'mon, babygirl." At the sight of her blushing and biting her bottom lip as his cum leaks out of her, a spark lights up his flesh. That's when he realizes. Every time he calls her that pet name, she's being told she'll be cared for. Getting up, Chan leans down to lift Wren into his arms, one supporting her shoulders and the other under her knees. "I have you." Maybe in ways he didn't expect.
–
"You coming tonight?" Changbin asks, walking in step with Chan as he heads back to his apartment.
"No. I'm busy."
"Man, you haven't gone out with us in so long!"
"I was literally out with you last week."
"Yeah, and then you disappeared after an hour."
"Sorry I have things to do."
Changbin pouts. "Is that why you're a favorite? You're on call all the time? You don't take time to enjoy yourself?"
"You assume I'm not enjoying myself."
"There's no way you are. You work too much."
Chan raises an eyebrow. "Work is enjoyable."
"Says the guy who was always depressed as the most active demon in our department. You found something you like. I just know it."
Shrugging, Chan turns down a hall toward his home. The sooner he can quit this conversation, the sooner he can get cleaned up and leave.
Changbin follows for a moment, but stops when Chan refuses to slow down. "I heard a rumor from one of my messenger buddies!"
"What would that be?" Chan calls back, slowing just enough to turn and look at Changbin.
"Said that some angel is getting scolded for not doing their job because apparently a demon played a better guardian angel than them. Know anything about that? Been trying to figure out who'd protect a human to have the angels riled up about it."
"This is the first I've heard. Wonder who it was. That human must be special to have a demon playing an angel." Chan grins at his buddy. "Catch you later, yeah?"
A sort of smirky smile morphs on Changbin's face. "Yeah. Have fun."
Thirty minutes later, fresh from the shower and dressed in a t-shirt and sweats, Chan steps through the portal that appeared minutes after he undressed to clean up. A controller is held in front of him.
"You're late."
He grins, meeting the gaze of Wren who is looking annoyed... until a smile appears. "You called for me early. I was stepping in the shower when the portal appeared."
"Yeah, but you're supposed to come through immediately."
"I was naked."
Wren shrugs. "I've seen it all."
"If that's the case," Chan tugs up the hem of his t-shirt.
Her hands stop his. "Hey, we're supposed to race! Don't cheat already by distracting me!"
"Thanks for the idea to win."
"Don't you do it or I'll have to do something drastic."
"Well, I wouldn't want you to have to do that."
Wren stares at him, her smile softening just a little. She gets this way sometimes when he comes at her call. It's like she genuinely enjoys his company. He's glad she never stopped asking to play games together.
"You ready for me to kick your ass?" she finally asks.
"I'm at your mercy."
She cackles. "Sorry, Channie, but you won't find any mercy from me. You're going down."
A hum. "On you? I suppose I could."
"Hey!"
He laughs. "All right, all right. Let's race then."
"How long can you stay?"
"I've got nowhere else to be." Frankly, he doesn't find interest in being anywhere else. These summons make it all worth it, a secret he keeps close. It'd be too dangerous for Wren if anyone higher up finds out. Getting attached to your clients is an offense punishable by a gruesome death. He doesn't care about that for him, but he can't bear the thought of someone else answering her summons.
"Okay," she says, her smile turning into a smirk. "Get ready to eat my dust!"
Plopping down on her couch, Chan playfully pats the seat beside him. "Stop talking shit and actually race me."
She scoffs, but rushes over and throws them into their competition. They're evenly matched for the most part, Wren squeezing ahead in the end. Her celebration results in her dancing around the living room while he sits there with a smile. Her goofy dance moves aren't new to him, but he's endeared as if he's never seen it before.
Standing to his feet, he grabs her wrist, stopping her dance. She gazes at him in concern. His lips descend upon hers, gentle and almost loving —as much as a demon can muster. Pulling away, he looks at her and she back at him. Her cheeks are flush, a look he's fascinated to cause.
Then she smirks. "I kicked your ass."
A laugh. Loud, head thrown back. Another shared kiss and a request for a rematch, a request that is met with her refusal because "he lost fair and square."
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!THIS IS PURE FICTION, NOTHING IN THIS IS REAL ITS JUST A STORY!
“Heyy can you come over? I need help :(”
“Why? You okay? What do you need help with?”
“I can’t seem to cum. Every time I try to orgasm I just seem to can’t, it’s like I’m stopped.”
“Were you meant to say that to me?” Chan asks typing his fingers across his phone, clearly confused. This message wasn’t meant for him.. right?
“Wdym?”
“You asked for help with.. you know.. uh things. That wasn’t meant for me right?”
He looks at his phone, his brows furrowing in confusing as he reads over the explicit question asked.
“Chris just come over please. It’s easier to talk in person”
I sigh my mood changing to regret as I can already see the confusion in his face even though I can’t physically see him through my phone. I end up receiving a thumbs up in response ‘thank god I didn’t just mess up our friendship completely’ I sigh in relief; and about twenty or so minutes later I hear the door bell ring; getting up from my bed and exiting my room I go and answer it, opening the door to Chan, clearly questioning what the fuck just happened not too long ago.
“So im guessing it was for me if you asked me to come over..? You did use my name after all.” He steps inside, making his way to my living room and taking a seat on the couch, I sit down next to him, both of us completely flustered.
“I’m really sorry for bringing this up I know it’s probably a bit uncomfortable talking about something like this but-” Chan cuts me off, looking at me with concern.
“No no don’t worry it’s fine! I uh, get like that sometimes I understand.. do you not own toys or anything that could.. give you a hand?” I shake my head, looking embarrassed for bringing this ‘issue’ up to someone who I’d probably consider my guy best friend.
“No.. I mean, I use the handle of my hair brush sometimes but I’ve never had this issue before.” I blush, why am I asking him about something like this? I feel like I’m going to cry out from embarrassment.
He sighs, noticing how uncomfortable I am and how much I trust him to even bring up an issue like this.
“Have you tried anything else? Pillow humping?.. uhh… maybe use more fingers if you.. never mind I’m so sorry I sound really perverted giving suggestions haha.” He laughs, trying to lighten the mood and get some of the tension out of the air that’s filling the room.
“No! Don’t worry Chan it’s fine.. I’m finding it helpful to talk about this stuff..” I mumble under my breath.
“Okay well.. are you stressed? Maybe that’s the reason I’ve heard that stress can stop people from orgasming sometimes?” He suggests, trying to get to the bottom of whatever’s happening. “I’m not sure. Can you give me a hand and see if that’s the problem maybe? I uh, maybe if someone helps me I’ll be able to..”
Chan nods slowly looking into my eyes for permission before reassuring himself with his words. “So you want me to.. help you cum? Like you want me to touch you or..” He scrunches his face, a hint of lust glazing over his features, his soft lips puckering with his expressions, a mix of frowns and smiles cover them.
I Look away, fiddling with my own hands. “If that’s okay.. hopefully it doesn’t ruin our relationship or anything.” I blush, fluttering my eyelashes at him, silently pleading for more. “Of course if that’s what you need to make you feel better then I’m happy to oblige, especially if I’m the one who can make you cum.” He chuckles, the top of his ears turning red.
I smile, beginning to take off my sweat pants along with my panties, watching as he strips himself of his bottom half as well.
“So what now..?” I ask. “Maybe we should start with mutual masturbation.. don’t wanna rush things, you know?” He smiles politely. What a gentle man he is, not rushing into anything fast, even though I’d be happy for whatever he wants to do first with me. “Okay” I nod, picking up our pants and bringing him to my bedroom and sitting down with him. “You know how to do this right?”
“We just.. masturbate side by side?” I look at him. Receiving a nod. I look at him as he starts to wrap his fist around his cock, pumping it slowly before picking up speed, the site of his dick making my insides ache and my cunt twitch with need. Watching him, I slowly thrust two fingers inside of my hole, curling them up to hit my g spot, my eyes however, are hooked onto his dick, watching him like he’s some sort of drug to me, drawing me in more and more with every stroke.
“You’re staring quite a bit, you okay?” He giggles, rubbing his spare hand on my thigh reassuringly. “Yeah yeah it’s just.. wow, I never expected to do something like this with you.. I mean, you’re probably one of my best friends after all” I shuffle closer to him, my pussy twitching around my fingers as I think about how his dick would feel inside of me; raw or protected I don’t care, I wonder how good he’d feel inside of me with his thick length, if he’d let me cum immediately or if he’d dominate me and use me to his liking; controlling whether or not I’m allowed to cum as I squirm under him.
I finally decide to let my horny thoughts get a hold of me. “I want you.. but I still can’t seem to..”
“You have me, princess. What’s on your mind?” He says, looking into my eyes with concern, noticing how needy I’m getting. He probably noticed how I was twitching around my fingers and lost in my thoughts. “I’m wondering how.. how your..” I try to get my words out but they’re tied back against my throat. “How my what?” He teases, clearly enjoying this side of me. “Tell me or I won’t give it to you, yeah?”
I nod, “I’m wondering how your dick would feel inside of me.. e-every inch and the thickness of it stretching me open.. how you’d treat me differently while I’m under you or on top.” I look away after finally spilling my words out, feeling my cheeks get hot. There’s so much more I want to say but it would take hours.
“Do you wanna stop wondering and try it out? Id be lying if I said I wasn’t wondering similar things about your pretty little pussy.. wonder how tight you are and how your face contorts as you make a pretty mess all over my dick.” He teases, reaching over into my lap to stroke his fingers over my clitoris, making me squirm with need.
“Please Chan.. Please Chris..” I beg him, using both of his names. “Good girl. Protection or no protection?” He asks, wanting to know my preference or if I want him to fill me up with his hot seed or not.
“As much as I want to risk it.. I don’t wanna accidentally you know, get impregnated and regret it once I’m not extremely fucking horny.”
“Mm that’s okay.. hopefully one day you’ll let me pump that cunt of yours up full of my cum, hm?” Chan smirks, enjoying making me into a soaking wet needy mess with his words.
He lifts his shirt over his head exposing his bare muscular body as he climbs on top of me. “Be a good girl and take your bra off for me, let me see those tits..” “yes da-“ I pause, realising what almost came out of my mouth. “Daddy huh? Fuck that made me so turned on.” He groans, reaching into his bag and finding a condom before rolling it onto his dick. While he does that I obey his order and unclip my bra, my breasts now being on display.
He licks his lips at the site of me now laying under him completely naked and vulnerable, dripping and ready for his cock. Chan positions himself at my entrance and pushes in, making me let out a moan of pleasure.
“Chris oh my god..!” I cry out, savouring the feeling of how his cock fills up my dripping needy cunt perfectly, slowly calming the urges inside of me but slowly making me want more. “Shh you’re okay.. just focus on how good I feel inside this pretty pussy, okay?”
“M-mhm..” a whimper leaves my mouth before feeling Chan press his lips against mine, his tongue parting my lips and our tongues now dancing and tangling together as his hands slowly creep their way down to my breasts massaging and playing with them making me squirm under him with even more need pulsing through my body as a result of his actions. “So fucking tight just for me..” he murmurs Into the kiss, beginning to plunge his dick in and out of my hole harder and faster. “Y-yes only for you daddy… I’m all yours ” I moan, parting away from the kiss to look into his eyes, my brain studying every scrunch and frown of pleasure lurking upon his face.
Fuck, I imagine how he must feel pounding and ruining me raw, without protection; every vein and every pulse as more blood runs to his dick making him grow and twitch inside of me. God, how I want him to fill me up and impregnate me with his children so Fucking badly. It’s definitely not right for our first time being intimate though.
“Whatcha thinking about now baby girl?” He teases again, pumping his length deeper into my pussy, I can’t even get a solid response out of my mouth it feels so fucking good. “So loud.. you gonna cum? You gonna make a mess all around my dick?”
“A-ah.. yes.. yes.. soon!” I cry, feeling myself tighten around him as I creep up the road to reach my peak. “So loud..” he chuckles, connecting his lips to my breast sucking gently on my nipple as I let loose a soft scream that turns into a loud moan as I feel him pound his length deeper Into me.
My back arching slightly from the pressure, tears starting to well up in my eyes as a loud string of moans leave my lips.
“Come for me baby~ Come for daddy~”
And so I did, screaming and crying louder than I ever had before, clenching him tighter, cumming around his cock. HARD.
Not long after I feel Chan reach his too, filling up the condom, making me feel a little bubble inside of me before pulling out, tying it up and properly disposing of it. “You sound so pretty when you cum baby? May I eat you out? Show you I can make you cum in more ways than one?” He chuckles, clearly amused with himself at the mess he’s created
“Please..” I pout, the thought of his plush soft lips against my clit and his tongue thrusting in and out of my needy little hole making me go feral.
“Only for you.” he smirks. I shivering as he slowly makes his way down to my cunt, licking and trailing his tongue down from my breasts until he reaches his desired destination. He grips his hands around my thighs, gently prying them open before attaching his lips to my now swollen clitoris flicking it with his tongue as his beady brown eyes look up at me and watch while I throw my head back in pleasure. “C-Chris..! Ah..”
“You taste just as good as you look..” Chan groans into my pussy, making me whimper even more this time due to the vibrations of his voice flowing through me and my pussy. “Fuck! You’re ruining me..!~” I sob out in pleasure, my hand reaching down to push his face deeper into my folds, needing more of his mouth, which only causes him to start moving his tongue and lips faster.
“Chris!! Don’t do that ill-“ I try to warn him but it’s too late, I’ve already made a mess of myself all over his face.
“Well at least you’re not complaining are you?” God, even his way of words makes me so horny.
I shake my head. “Good girl. My good girl.” He grins, moving his head up from my crotch to my face, forcing his lips on mine making me taste myself. “Mmph!?-“ I gasp against his lips as he pushes two fingers inside of me, bending them and moving them back and forth against that sweet spot inside of me.
“You like that baby girl? Tell me what you like about my hands.. since you stare at them so often you must have some naughty thoughts about them, yeah?” Chan pulls away from the kiss, a string of saliva still connecting our lips as he waits for my response.
“Y-yes.. I.. i Imagine your fingers in me as I touch myself, but f-fuck they’re so much better and faster than mine.” I connect my lips back to his, our tongues beginning to swirl and twirl again. “Get on your knees for me.” He demands me, I let out a whine of disappointment as he pulls his fingers out of my pussy. “Mhm..” I smile, getting down on my knees and looking up at him. “I ate your pretty little pussy so now it’s time for you to wrap that mouth around me.,”
“Yes”
“Yes what?”
“Yes daddy.”
“Such a good girl you are, already knowing your place” he praises. I wrap my mouth around his already dripping cock and start taking him Into my mouth, sucking him. The flavour of his precum hitting my taste buds making me feel special, making me feel that I’m maybe definitely more than a friend to him.
“You wanna take me deeper? Think you can do it?” I nod, my mouth filled with his dick, I take him deeper and deeper, slowly beginning to deep throat him. Accidentally gaging around his length in the process.
“Your throats so tight baby. Im Gonna cum soon fucking swallow every drop of me.” I look up at him, he’s biting his lip as he spills his seed down my throat, I swallow it all, hungry for every bit of his cock, I whine slightly as he pulls out of my mouth, a tiny bit of his semen still dripping down my chin, I lick it up greedily.
“Good girl. Did you get what you wanted? Happy you could finally cum?”
I nod, now laying down with him and snuggling my head against his chest like a lost kitten.
“If you ever need help again don’t hesitate to call me baby girl.”
: ̗̀➛ pairing: lee felix x brat fem!reader (a bit of seungmin x reader)
: ̗̀➛ word count: ~8k
: ̗̀➛ content: fluff, smut, felix is the sweetest thing but so mean, reader actively tries to make felix mad, minor injury in the kitchen
part 2 is out!
you make a bet with seungmin: you've got one week to get your boyfriend, felix—who seems completely incapable of getting mad at you—to finally snap. after a series of failed attempts, you figure if anything’s going to work, it might as well be in bed.
author's note: i’ve been on a writing grind lately so here’s a second fic in one sitting because apparently i have no self-control. i’m shitting my balls. i need felix like yesterday. enjoy! ♡
smut warnings below the cut!
: ̗̀➛ smut warnings: hard dom!felix, explicit sexual content, oral (f. receiving), reader has the biggest degradation kink, brat taming, slight edging, light bondage, power play, unprotected piv (don't), missionary, doggy style, semi-voyeurism
you’d always thought of him as sunshine.
everyone did.
even when he wasn’t smiling, felix had that glow—warm and unbothered, with freckles that danced across his cheeks like constellations and a voice that made people turn around just to hear him speak again. he was soft. gentle. sweet in that quiet, domestic way. the kind of boy who folded your laundry before you even remembered you’d done it.
even in bed—he was gentle. worshipful. like every touch was a question and you were the only answer. he was all murmured praise, soft sighs, slow hands. he loved you softly. every time.
which is probably why no one—including you—had ever seen him mad.
not truly.
you were perched on the edge of the couch in the boys’ dorm, nervously fidgeting with the sleeve of your hoodie. it was felix’s, naturally—oversized and warm and still faintly smelling like his laundry detergent.
you were here because you’d accidentally taken something you weren’t supposed to. a usb, to be exact. felix had handed it to you earlier in the day along with your own, and in your rush to leave, you’d pocketed the wrong one.
“i just feel so bad,” you groaned, glancing toward the hallway. “he said he needed it for something tonight. like, deadline-needed.”
seungmin was sprawled across the other end of the couch, legs kicked up, eyes on his phone. he barely glanced up as he responded.
“you’re being dramatic.”
“no, like—really bad. i shouldn’t have—”
“honestly?” he cut in, finally looking at you, a smirk tugging at his lips. “i don’t think he’s even capable of getting mad at you.”
you blinked. “what?”
he chuckled, flipping his phone over. “i mean, come on. you could probably punch him in the face and he’d apologize for getting in the way of your fist.”
you laughed despite yourself. “that is so not true.”
“isn’t it?”
you opened your mouth to argue—but then the front door opened.
felix stepped in, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair slightly damp from the drizzle outside. his eyes found you immediately.
“hey,” you said, standing. “i brought it—sorry again, i seriously didn’t mean—”
“shh.” he was already moving toward you, gentle hands coming up to cradle your arms, thumbs brushing soothingly against the fabric of his hoodie—the one you were wearing. “don’t stress, angel. it’s okay.”
“but you said you needed it for tonight,” you mumbled, guilt creeping up your spine. “i should’ve double-checked—”
“and i should’ve labeled mine.” he gave a small laugh, pulling you closer, tucking your head under his chin with that easy warmth that always made your chest flutter. “it’s not a big deal. really.”
you swore you saw seungmin choke on a laugh in your peripheral vision.
your eyes flicked sideways—just in time to catch him turning away, phone suddenly so interesting he might’ve been reading the terms and conditions. his shoulders were shaking, just barely.
felix either didn’t notice or chose to ignore it.
“i’m gonna head out again to drop this off,” he said, voice still soft, fingertips lingering at your elbow for a second longer before letting go.
you nodded, brushing your hair back behind your ear. “right. of course.”
“thanks for coming all the way back,” he added, gaze warm and fond, like you’d just done something heroic instead of, you know, returning the thing you accidentally stole. he gave your arm one last squeeze. “text me when you get home, yeah?”
“i will.”
then he was gone—door shutting behind him with that soft click that always left the room feeling quieter somehow.
and the very second it closed, seungmin’s voice rang out from behind you.
“god, that was disgusting.”
you turned.
“excuse me?”
he didn’t even look up from his phone. “you took his drive and somehow walked away with a hug, and a thank you.”
you opened your mouth to argue.
then closed it.
“okay, but—”
“nope. don’t justify it.” seungmin pointed his phone at the door.
you rolled your eyes, hoisting your bag over your shoulder, but the words stuck with you. warmed you a little too much. annoyingly so.
still, you couldn’t help yourself.
“he’s still a person. he’s not, like… impervious to irritation.” you muttered, half to yourself, half to the room. “if i pissed him off enough, he’d crack,”
seungmin didn’t even flinch. “tell me when that ever happens.”
you groaned, dragging your hands down your face. “you know i’m gonna try to, just to prove you wrong.”
“mhm,” seungmin said flatly, not even looking up. “60 bucks. you have a week.”
“60 bucks,” you repeated. “i’m gonna find his limit,” you said, dead serious. “he has to have one.”
“good luck.”
you’d been thinking about it for days—how to do it, how to gently prod at the edge of felix’s emotional limits without actually hurting him. you weren’t trying to be cruel. you just wanted to see something other than that unwavering calm, that endless warmth. you wanted to prove he could feel sharp things, too. that he wasn’t made of clouds and soft blankets and chamomile tea.
jealousy. that was your angle.
was felix ever jealous? you genuinely didn’t know. he’d never so much as blinked when people flirted with you—though to be fair, you’d never exactly flirted back. you never had a reason to. you didn’t want to.
but now, you needed a reaction.
just enough to light a spark. not enough to burn the house down.
so when your company hosted a casual dinner event—open to significant others and friends—you didn’t hesitate to bring felix. he looked unfairly good that night, dressed in soft black slacks and a black button up that hugged his frame a little too well. his hand found yours under the table the second you sat down, thumb stroking slow, lazy circles against your palm like always.
you were seated at a long table with a mix of coworkers and guests, plates being passed around, wine glasses clinking gently, soft laughter filling the room.
he was beside you, of course—close and warm and always tuned in to you.
but the guy on your other side?
friendly. talkative. a little too charming in that “business casual” way. you leaned into it. not too obvious. just enough to let felix notice.
you laughed at something the guy said—tilting your head just slightly, touching his arm in that way that could maybe be seen as flirty. maybe. you were careful. just close enough to the line to toe it, not cross it.
felix didn’t say a word.
he was smiling, even. still soft-spoken. still squeezing your hand every now and then. still brushing your thigh under the table with his when he shifted in his seat. he even leaned in at one point and murmured, “you okay?”
you nodded, playing it cool. “mhm. just chatting.”
felix grinned. that same soft, sunny smile that always made you feel like you were the only one in the room.
“alright,” he said, brushing your cheek with his knuckle before pulling back like nothing was even slightly off.
he went back to being quiet and polite. still engaged in the conversation going around the table, nodding at someone’s story, chiming in with a laugh when appropriate. he didn’t stiffen. didn’t narrow his eyes. didn’t even glance at the guy beside you like he might be competition.
you sat there smiling and nodding at whatever work guy was saying about his vacation to bali, but your stomach was knotting. tighter by the second.
because you knew what you were doing. you knew exactly how much you were leaning. exactly when you let your laugh ring just a little louder, your fingers trail just a little longer.
but felix wasn’t reacting.
or at least—he wasn’t reacting the way you expected.
he was just… him. gentle. warm. steady. and he could’ve been using this moment to get back at you.
there were plenty of chances. the woman across the table who complimented his accent. the one seated diagonally, sipping wine and laughing just a little too brightly at his jokes. one even asked him how his skin was so clear and if he worked out—which, in fairness, was a valid question.
felix didn’t take the bait. he was polite, as always. gracious, even. gave small answers. thanked them with a nod and a soft smile. but he didn’t engage.
didn’t lean in. didn’t flirt. didn’t offer even a flicker of attention that could be mistaken as anything more than manners.
and slowly—almost like he was aware of your internal panic creeping in—he started leaning in closer to you. gradually, without showiness. his knee pressed against yours beneath the table. then reached for his water glass and poured some into yours before you could even realize it was empty.
this wasn’t going to work.
you weren’t going to rattle him. you weren’t going to get that flash of possessiveness, that glint of sharp jealousy in his eyes.
because felix didn’t play games.
not with you.
he loved you out loud, completely, and without keeping score. he didn’t need to punish you or mirror your actions to prove a point. he didn’t flinch under pressure. he didn’t crack under quiet provocations.
he just was. wholeheartedly. constant. grounded.
this wasn’t going to work.
it had been a few days since the whole work dinner experiment—since felix had gently, unknowingly, demolished your plan by doing absolutely nothing except love you the way he always did. respectfully. consistently. infuriatingly.
but you weren’t done.
not yet.
jealousy didn’t work, sure. but irritation? that had potential. everyone had a limit, and you were determined to find felix’s.
you were at his place now—well, technically his and seungmin’s—kitchen lights warm, sleeves rolled up, and flour already dusting the countertop like early snow.
the goal today was mild sabotage. nothing irreversible. nothing that would actually ruin the cake. just… enough sugar to make it way too sweet. enough to maybe make him sigh. maybe scold you a little. maybe just something.
you waited until he stepped away to grab a new mixing bowl, and then—quickly, quietly—you dumped in an extra quarter cup. maybe a little more.
by the time he came back, you were standing innocently with the spatula, “gently folding” the batter like you hadn’t just committed a culinary crime.
he paused. looked at the bowl. then looked at you.
“…did you add too much sugar?”
you blinked up at him. “no?”
he hummed. scooped a bit of batter on his finger. tasted it.
and then—smiled. not annoyed. just… amused.
“if you wanted it sweeter, you could’ve just told me,” he said, voice playful, handing you a towel to wipe your fingers off. “i’m gonna balance it so it doesn’t taste like pure syrup.”
you sighed loudly, dramatic, flopping back against the counter. “this is so annoying.”
he laughed and leaned past you to grab a lemon from the fruit bowl.
“go chop up some of the fruit, okay? i’ll deal with this.”
you looked at seungmin, who hadn’t said a word. he gave you a look that screamed pathetic.
you stuck your tongue out at him and turned back to the cutting board, muttering under your breath.
great. jealousy failed. chaos failed. sugar sabotage failed. what were you supposed to do now? bake the cake upside down? hide the eggs?
you didn’t know.
you really didn’t know anymore.
your plan—whatever it had been—was unraveling, slipping through your fingers like flour dust in the air. and the worst part? you kind of… didn’t want to push anymore. felix had been so patient, so kind through all of it, and suddenly, you just felt silly. immature. you had something good, and you were trying to poke holes in it just to see if it would leak.
lost in thought, you didn’t even realize how close your fingers were to the blade until it was too late.
the knife slipped.
there was a sharp sting.
you yelped, the sound cutting through the warm haze of the kitchen as the knife clattered onto the counter and fruit scattered everywhere.
“ah!” you gasped, clutching your hand. blood was already rising.
felix’s head snapped up instantly. “what happened?”
you stepped back, breath shallow. “i—i cut myself—”
he was already there. crossing the kitchen faster than you’d ever seen him move, his hands reaching out to check your fingers—but the moment he saw the blood, something in him shifted.
“what were you even doing?” he snapped, voice sharper than the knife that slipped. he grabbed a towel with jerky, frustrated movements, wrapping it around your wound with practiced precision but no softness. “were you even paying attention?”
your lips parted, stunned. “i—i don’t know, i was just—”
“you weren’t thinking,” he cut in, tone clipped.
his voice rose, not yelling, but full-bodied, biting. that low, velvety rasp he usually used to whisper sweet things into your ear was now slicing through the air like it had teeth.
“for fuck’s sake,” he muttered, shaking his head, “i asked you to do one simple thing. not play with the goddamn knife.”
you stared at him, completely disarmed. not just by the tone. but by how he looked.
chest rising and falling under his fitted sweater, sleeves pushed back just enough to show the flex of his forearms. his jaw clenched, eyes dark with something deeper than just irritation. he looked… furious. unshakable. and so hot it was almost insulting.
your mouth went dry.
you couldn’t stop staring—at the way felix was breathing, his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, like he was trying to bite back whatever else he wanted to say. his hands, still stained with flour, flexed at his sides. every muscle in his jaw was tense.
seungmin stood up, crossing the kitchen to the cabinet.
he grabbed the first aid kit, crouching beside the chair you’d sunk into. he opened it like this wasn’t the most charged atmosphere he’d ever stood in. like felix hadn’t just snapped for the first time in recorded history.
“here,” he said, pulling out some antiseptic and a few band-aids. “don’t bleed on the tile. it’s ugly enough already.”
you gave him a weak glare, but he just smirked.
felix hadn’t moved. he was still standing there, looking at the floor now, his expression twisted with something like regret.
seungmin didn’t let up.
“you got really worked up there, man,” he said, tone light but clearly pointed.
that finally made felix move. he blinked like he was coming out of something, then turned toward you—eyes wide now, softer, voice quiet.
“i’m sorry, baby” he said.
you didn’t say anything for a second. just stared at him, still a little stunned by the whiplash.
but even now, with his shoulders slumped and his tone apologetic, he still looked good. still had that raw energy simmering just under the surface. still had you simmering.
you swallowed hard.
“it’s okay,” you said slowly.
seungmin raised a brow but said nothing, silently peeling the wrapper off a band-aid.
felix crouched in front of you, his hand ghosting over yours. his voice was soft again, almost too soft.
“i won’t yell like that again,” he murmured.
you blinked at him, and for a second—just a second—you wanted to say don’t promise that.
because god, the way his voice had cracked when he was angry. the way he looked at you like your carelessness hurt him. the way he shook with something that wasn’t just rage, but deep, desperate concern—you hadn’t expected it to do something to you.
but he was still doing everything out of love.
even when his voice rose and his hands tightened and his eyes darkened—he was still the same felix. still checking if you were okay. still apologizing even though you had started this whole mess.
and somehow, that made it worse.
you hadn’t even pissed him off correctly. not really. he didn’t yell because you were annoying. he yelled because you were bleeding and he didn’t know how else to handle the sudden fear curling in his gut.
and now he was kneeling in front of you, shame written in every line of his face, like he had done something unforgivable.
you wished he hadn't come down from it so fast.
you wished—maybe more than anything—that he knew he didn’t have to keep being perfect for you to love him.
you didn’t know what else to do.
jealousy had failed. sabotage had failed. even blood hadn’t done it right. every attempt chipped at something inside you—your confidence, your ego, your grasp on what you were even trying to prove. and yet…
seungmin had texted you the evening of the baking incident:
[ that was a close one ] [ but it didn’t count. try harder. ]
you'd stared at it for a long time. not because he was wrong—but because you agreed.
so now? one last attempt.
if you couldn’t get felix to be mad at you, then maybe—just maybe—you could make him lose control somewhere else.
which is why he was between your thighs right now.
you were sprawled across his bed, hips twitching, sheets clutched in your fists.
felix was eating you out like it was a mission. like you were something sacred, and he had all the time in the world to worship every inch of you.
his mouth was obscene—lips slick, tongue working you open so slowly you wanted to scream. and he kept murmuring things between licks, low and reverent.
felix’s tongue traced a slow, reverent line up your slit, lips closing over your clit with a tenderness that made your hips twitch. he groaned softly into you, the sound vibrating through your core like a low hum of devotion, and his arms curled tighter around your thighs, anchoring you in place. every motion was soaked in patience, in worship. you were trembling, half mad with need already, and all he’d done was kiss you like he loved you—which, of course, he did.
“taste so good, angel… always so sweet for me, aren’t you?”
“f-felix…” your voice broke on his name, hands knotted in the sheets. he just hummed again, content like he could spend the rest of his life here, lips gliding over your clit, tongue flicking in slow, perfect circles that had your thighs quivering. he was gentle, god, so gentle. like you were the only thing in the world worth touching delicately.
and maybe that was the problem.
you were panting, already so close—too close—and he hadn’t even slipped a finger inside yet. you could feel your orgasm mounting fast, could feel the heat blooming in your belly, the ache curling in your spine, and you knew what would come next. he’d hold you through it. he’d kiss your thighs, murmur praise, make you feel like you were the center of the universe.
you were already trembling, one hand fisting in his sheets, the other tangled in his hair, breath coming in staggered whines. he didn’t speed up. didn’t deviate. tongue curling soft and hot over your clit again and again until your hips twitched and a ragged moan slipped out without your permission.
and then he paused. just for a second.
his eyes lifted to yours, warm and glassy, lips shiny with you.
“shhh, darling…” he whispered, and the way he said it made your stomach flip. “seungmin’s in the living room, remember?”
your chest heaved. right. right—he always told you. always so careful to remind you, not because he was annoyed, but because you’d confessed once—embarrassed and flushed, the sheet pulled up to your chin after a particularly loud session—that you hated the idea of his roommate hearing. and since then, felix had always made sure to keep things quiet. to warn you. to soothe you when your voice got too high, your cries too desperate. he’d press a kiss to your throat, a hand to your mouth, shushing you.
but tonight, something twisted in you.
you weren’t going to hold back.
so when his mouth dipped again, lips closing over your clit in a slow, gentle suck, you let it out—a high, shaky moan that cracked on the end, followed by a breathless, “fuck, felix—!”
he froze.
lifted his head.
his mouth was still glistening, chin slick with you, flushed and beautiful in that way that always made your stomach twist. but his brows were drawn, just slightly, and his voice—when it came—was low and firm, not scolding but edged with something new.
“hey.” his thumb stroked up your inner thigh, slow but deliberate. “quiet down.”
it wasn’t a question. wasn’t a soft reminder like before. it was a command.
and it did something to you.
your breath hitched, thighs twitching around his shoulders as the authority in his tone settled in your chest like a stone dropped into water—rippling outward, stirring everything.
still, something in you bristled.
not in defiance. not exactly.
but you couldn’t stop yourself.
you pouted. just a little. “why?”
his eyes narrowed. there was a flicker of disbelief there, a tension that rippled beneath the surface like he didn’t quite believe you were pushing this boundary.
“because seungmin’s out there,” he said, slower this time, more deliberate, as if you’d forgotten. “and you hate being overheard.”
you shrugged, arching your back slightly, enough to grind your hips closer to his face again. “maybe i changed my mind.”
his eyes flicked to your cunt, glistening and swollen and shamelessly on display, then back up to your face. his expression had shifted. no longer just disbelief. something darker had crept in now—possessive and sharp, curling like smoke at the edges of his voice.
“well i don’t want him to hear you.”
the words were quiet. flat. measured.
you blinked, breath catching.
“i don’t want anyone hearing what you sound like when i’ve got you like this,” he continued, leaning in until you could feel the heat of his breath against your inner thigh.
you bit your lip, the heat rising in your face. in your chest.
“but…” you started, trying to keep your tone airy. “you always do what i want.”
that did it.
you watched his jaw clench tighter, watched the tension rise in his shoulders, watched the composure crack. just a little.
felix rose—slowly, smoothly, like a tide pulling back before it crashes—and settled over you, forearms bracketing your head, chest brushing yours as he leveled his face just above yours.
you felt it instantly.
that shift.
gone was the usual ease in his posture, the warm, pliant softness you always leaned into. what loomed above you now wasn’t your sweet, sunny felix—it was the part of him he always held back, the part that simmered under the surface like magma, always contained, until you poked at it.
and tonight?
you’d done nothing but poke.
he leaned in again, slow, like a tiger in tall grass, and planted his palm flat against the mattress beside your head. his voice was soft now, but laced with something that made your spine arch—authority, finality, control.
“you really think i don’t know?”
you swallowed hard.
“that you’ve been bratty for days,” he said, like it was fact. like it was math. “flirting with that guy at dinner. cutting your hand because you couldn’t stand that i didn’t break. ”
your cheeks flamed, breath catching, but you still held the edge in your smile.
“i was just distracted—”
his hand moved fast, gripping your jaw—not hard, just enough to make you stop talking.
“don’t,” he said. “don’t give me that look.”
your heart kicked up behind your ribs. he’d never grabbed your face like that before. never interrupted. never spoke like that.
it made your thighs press together. instinctive.
and he noticed.
he dipped closer, forehead brushing yours, and you could feel his heart beating in time with yours—hard, steady, controlled.
“you think i haven’t been watching you push?” he hissed. “every little act.”
you whimpered, lips parting—but he kept going.
“you’ve been begging for this,” he said, biting out the words. “not out loud. but with every goddamn thing you’ve done.”
you shivered.
“and you think i don’t see you?” he growled. “you think i don’t know exactly what that look means?”
his hand grabbed your jaw, fingers firm, tilting your face toward his—close enough to kiss, but he didn’t. he just held you there, breath brushing your lips, eyes burning through you.
“tell me the truth,” he said, voice a warning, a promise. “tell me what you want.”
you could barely breathe.
your voice came out thin, cracked around the edges. “you, like this…” your eyes were wide, lashes wet, trembling as you looked up at him. “this is what i want.”
felix didn’t flinch.
didn’t soften.
he just stared, his grip on your jaw unrelenting, eyes dark and unforgiving as they searched your face—saw the way you shook beneath him, the way your thighs pressed together, the way your chest rose and fell in shallow, panicked little gasps.
“of course it is,” he said flatly.
you blinked.
he tilted your face up a little more, enough that it hurt your neck to hold the position. his voice dropped, hard and disgusted. “look at you. shaking like a leaf, soaking the fucking sheets—just because i stopped being nice.”
you winced.
but your cunt clenched hard.
the words cut. not because they were cruel—but because they were true. and he knew it. you weren’t just turned on. you were unraveling. dripping and desperate, your body buzzing from the tension, your shame crawling over your skin like fire ants—but still, the burn felt good.
“you’re pathetic,” he said, letting go of your jaw like your skin burned his fingers.
he pushed you back roughly, your bound wrists catching against the bed as your shoulders hit the mattress. his hands were already on your thighs, spreading them open without care. not reverent. not gentle.
like you were his and he was sick of pretending otherwise.
“you want to be hated, don’t you? love isn’t enough for you?” he muttered, gaze locked on your slick cunt as he stroked two fingers through the mess between your legs.
your hips bucked.
“well,” felix said, voice like gravel dragged slow across glass, “if that’s what you want…”
his fingers sank into you—two at once, fast, merciless. your body jolted, a high cry tearing from your throat before you could stop it. he twisted his wrist, curled just right, and you felt the tremble start in your toes.
“i’ll give it to you.”
you gasped, back arching. “y-you don’t mean that,” you choked, words splintering on a sob. “you love me—”
he laughed.
dark. sharp.
“i’m gonna fuck you like i don’t.” he said, without softness.
his fingers pulled free. you barely had a second to breathe before he shoved your thighs wide, leaned over, and pressed his cock to your dripping cunt—still wet from your own need, from the tears and the shame and the way his voice had stripped you bare.
he held there.
right at your entrance, the head of his cock teasing just enough to make you squirm, to make your hips buck in desperate little jerks that only dragged the moment out longer. he could’ve slammed in. could’ve torn the rest of you open in a single thrust, left you breathless and sobbing.
but he didn’t.
because under all that dark fire, under the roughness and anger and heat, he was still him. still sweet. still good. still felix.
his jaw was tight, the muscle ticking as he looked down at you—ruined and trembling, legs spread wide, wrists bound and face flushed with lust and tears and something more fragile. he blinked, and for a second, just a second, you saw the question flicker through his expression.
“is that what you want?” he asked.
his voice had dropped low. he was still offering you a way out. still giving you that choice.
you knew it for what it was.
you nodded, frantic. fast. moaning as you tried to roll your hips, tried to force him inside again, but his grip on your thigh only tightened.
“talk to me,” he rasped, a thread of control still clinging to him.
you blinked at him through the haze, a smile curling on your lips—half brat, half breathless.
“yes,” you said, voice thin and greedy. “yes, i want it. i want you to fuck me like you’re sick of me. like i finally got under your skin.”
he cursed.
low and vicious.
you saw it—the moment that final wall crumbled, the way the storm in his eyes finally spilled over. his cock pushed in deep, slow at first, like he wanted to draw it out, make it last.
but then your cunt clenched—tight and wet and fluttering around him—and he snapped.
“you did,” he growled, pulling back and slamming in hard enough to make the bed jolt, your cry piercing the room. “you fucking did.”
his hips snapped forward again—louder this time, harder, brutal enough to knock the air from your lungs, the rhythm punching out soft, choked sounds from your throat with every thrust. not words. not anymore. just ragged little whimpers, helpless and high, your whole body jostling beneath him as he used you—fucked you—with none of the gentleness you’d always known.
“you wanted this,” he spat, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his hairline onto your chest as he folded you tighter, pushing your thighs up toward your shoulders to drive in even deeper. “you fucking asked for it.”
you sobbed—quiet at first, then louder, messy and wet as the tears finally spilled. they streaked hot down your cheeks, dripping into your hair, your jaw slack with pleasure too sharp to feel good and too good to survive. your wrists twisted uselessly in their binds, fingers curling tight as your whole body tried to keep up with the pace of him.
it was too much.
it was everything.
he growled—an actual growl, raw and guttural—as he looked down at you, at the tears rolling over your cheeks, at the way your mouth opened and closed, begging silently for something neither of you could name.
his rhythm never faltered.
not once.
even as your body broke beneath him—hips arching, wrists straining, cheeks soaked with tears that burned like proof—he kept going. kept fucking you with that same relentless pace, hips slamming against the backs of your thighs, the sound obscene, wet and cruel in the dark.
he watched your face twist with every thrust—watched you come apart, watched the edge of pleasure curdle into panic and drag you right back down into need.
and even then—you didn’t stop.
you couldn’t stop.
your lips trembled open around another sob, your voice half-hoarse, but still you met his glare with a shaky smirk, eyes glazed and bratty to your last breath.
“i never knew you were capable of being mean,” you gasped, voice cracking as you arched under him.
he snarled, something between pain and disbelief, and slammed in so deep you screamed, your entire body jolting up the bed from the force of it.
“because i love you,” he growled, voice so low it scraped the inside of your chest. “i’ve only ever tried to treat you well. like you matter. like you’re everything to me.”
he leaned in closer, one hand pressing hard into your hip, the other curling around your throat.
“but that’s not what you wanted, was it?”
you sobbed. not an answer. just a broken, keening sound.
he dipped lower, lips barely brushing yours. “you wanted this. you wanted me mean. you wanted me to use you, and now you’ve got it.”
his cock dragged out slow, thick and aching—and then drove back in so hard your moan broke on your tongue.
“you never wanted soft.”
you blinked up at him, tears hot and sticky down your temples, your mouth quivering.
“i was—” you panted, a hiccupped cry catching in your chest, “i was trying to prove a point—”
he sneered, not stopping, not relenting, pounding into you like he wanted to fuck the brat right out of your soul.
“to who, y/n?” he hissed, words snapping like whips.
you moaned—high and messy and wrong, because you were still so turned on, because the way he said your name made your body sing even while you trembled.
“who?” he shouted again, voice rising with disbelief and something deeper—something unspoken that cracked open in his throat like it hurt to say.
and you said it.
whimpered it.
half-mindless, but not mindless enough.
“seungmin.”
felix went still.
then he laughed.
it was low. bitter. a hollow bark of disbelief as his hand slid up the length of your thigh, slow and mocking, his cock still throbbing just barely inside you.
“fucking knew it,” he muttered, more to himself than you, jaw tight as he gave a small, almost deranged shake of his head. “you and him. the way you bicker. the looks.”
his hand curled around your throat again, thumb dragging over the mess of tears smeared across your cheek. not to wipe them.
just to feel them.
“and of course you’d moan his name out while i’m balls deep in you.”
you gasped, breath stuttering under the press of his palm, legs twitching around his hips.
he laughed again—sharper now, teeth flashing in the low light. “fucking pathetic.”
you whimpered.
“here i am,” he snarled, voice dropping to a whisper, “treating you like you’re mine—spending months giving you everything. folding your laundry. holding you when you cry.”
he slammed into you again, cruel and sudden.
you screamed, head snapping back.
“and you’ve been pushing me,” he said, voice quiet, almost calm—but beneath it, something was cracking. something brittle.
another thrust, hard and fast, punching a choked cry out of your lungs.
“all of that just to prove a point to kim seungmin?”
your mouth dropped open—useless, silent, your head lolling on the pillow as his cock hit that deep, devastating spot again and again, your body unable to hide how badly you were still enjoying it.
he sneered. “do you even understand what you’re doing?”
your eyes flicked to him—blurry, swimming, lashes soaked—and your lips moved, trying to form a denial. but you couldn’t lie.
not with your cunt sucking him in so greedily. not with the moans that still clawed up your throat even when you bit down on them. not with the guilt chewing holes through your stomach while your body begged for more.
“i—i wasn’t trying—” you whispered, but he cut you off.
“you weren’t trying?”
he laughed. dark and sharp and filled with something that sounded like it hurt his ribs to release.
“god, you’re worse than i thought,” he spat, pulling out just enough to let the next thrust slam in deeper. “you don’t even know what game you’re playing. you’re playing me, you’re playing him—”
you didn’t know anymore.
if he was really mad. if this was just another version of his anger wrapped in arousal, or if something had actually shattered under the weight of everything you’d done. you couldn’t tell if he meant the things he said—or if he was just saying them because it was what you’d asked for, begged for, pushed for until something inside him snapped.
all you knew was that your head was spinning, your lungs barely worked, and your body couldn’t stop trembling around him.
“i’m close,” you whimpered, your voice a rasp, broken and high and soaked in panic, “felix—please—”
he didn’t slow. if anything, he fucked you harder.
you were sobbing now, face sticky with tears, wrists straining in the binds as your body shook from the pressure curling tighter and tighter in your belly.
“i don’t think you deserve to cum,” he hissed, biting the words like they tasted foul. “not after what you did. you little bitch.”
the word slapped.
“i’m sorry,” you cried, the words tumbling out, raw and hoarse and true. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean—i didn’t—felix, please, i’m sorry—”
and for a second, just a second, something shifted in his face.
his brow twitched. his grip faltered. his eyes—not all the way, but just a little—softened.
he looked down at you, at your flushed face, your tear-soaked skin, your body trembling and still trying to push back against him, even through the guilt, even through the shame. begging for him.
he cursed under his breath. a low, ragged sound.
then he pulled out.
you whined—sharp and instinctive, your whole body lurching, chasing him.
“no—please—”
but he grabbed your hips and flipped you, fast and rough, until you were flat on your stomach, then dragging you up to your knees with no gentleness, no care.
he leaned in, lips at your ear, voice back to that quiet, dangerous whisper.
“all fours.”
you scrambled to obey, tears still dripping from your chin onto the sheets, your ass high, back arched, your pussy swollen and dripping and empty.
he stared for a long second.
then, flatly:
“prove it. prove your sorry.”
he didn’t move.
not even a little.
just knelt behind you, one hand resting heavy on your lower back, the other wrapped around the curve of your ass—fingers digging in, spreading you open so wide the air hit your cunt like ice. his cock stood thick and flushed against your thigh, glistening with everything he’d already taken from you. close. so close.
but he didn’t move
“you want to cum so badly?” he said, voice low and flat, unreadable, like it didn’t matter either way. “then do it yourself.”
your breath caught.
you blinked, stunned.
he gripped your ass harder, a sharp squeeze that made you jolt forward, but he didn’t move to stop you.
“come on,” he said, the cruelty now bitter instead of sharp. “you were so good at playing games earlier.”
your whole body shook.
you whimpered once—just one broken sound—and then moved. slowly. shamefully.
you rocked your hips back. tentative at first. your slick folds kissed the head of his cock and you moaned, soft and strangled, before pushing further, inching down onto him until the stretch began to burn again.
it wasn’t graceful. it wasn’t like when he took care of you.
it was work.
every inch felt like a trial. your legs trembled under the weight of it, thighs threatening to give out as you lowered yourself onto him, your breath coming in ragged sobs, your cunt pulsing with how close you were, how desperately your body wanted him to take over.
but he didn’t.
“make yourself cum,” he snapped, voice tighter now.
you nodded, rocking your hips again—sliding down fully this time, burying him inside, your body jerking as your sob turned to a long, high cry. your knees were slipping, your arms too bound to help you balance, and every time you moved your hips, your body twitched with the effort.
he just watched.
watched you ride his cock without rhythm, without grace—just need. just ruin. his hands stayed on your ass, holding it open, holding you wide for him to see.
but he didn’t help.
you were doing it alone.
“felix, i can’t—”
“you wanted this.”
and so you kept going.
kept fucking yourself back on him, over and over, your movements messy and broken, your body trembling with the weight of everything you’d done—everything you’d wanted.
and as you cried, he gripped your ass harder, dragging his thumbs over the skin, watching your hole stretch around him like it was all you were good for.
your thighs were giving out.
completely.
each roll of your hips got weaker, sloppier—your knees buckling inward, your movements more tremble than thrust, the sheer weight of him inside you unbearable.
your arms were still bound, chest pressed into the sheets, your cries muffled now—raw and constant, more sob than sound—as you tried to keep going. but your body wouldn’t move.
you shook your head, weakly, voice cracking as you rasped, “i—i can’t… i can’t do it…”
you felt his exhale first—long and deep. then the weight of his hands on your hips shifted. and his voice followed, low and so done.
“of course you can’t.”
you shivered.
“you couldn’t even fuck yourself properly,” he muttered, hands gripping your hips with new purpose. “you begged for this. cried for it. ruined both of us trying to prove something—and now you can’t even finish what you started?”
you sobbed but that was all he gave you time for. because he snapped his hips forward. you screamed, head slamming into the pillow, the thrust knocking your whole body up the bed.
and then he didn’t stop.
he fucked into you from behind, deep and punishing, dragging you back onto his cock with every stroke, the sound of skin on skin wet and violent, your cries rising in pitch until you couldn’t hold anything in anymore.
“isn’t this what you wanted?” he growled, voice right at your ear now, one hand on the back of your neck, the other gripping your waist so tight it burned. “to get used like this? to cry on my dick and act like you’re sorry?”
your throat was raw, your eyes stinging, your body screaming with the oncoming wave, your orgasm building so hard it almost felt like pain.
“felix—fuck—i’m gonna—”
his pace didn’t stutter.
didn’t falter.
“yeah?” he breathed, his voice a rasp, full of hate and heat and something so possessive it twisted your stomach. “that’s right.”
his thrusts turned vicious, his cock pounding into you, his voice ragged and shaking.
“cum then.”
and you did.
you came with a scream—full-bodied, wrecked, your spine arching like it was trying to tear free from your skin. it hit so hard you thought for a second you might black out. your pussy clamped down around him, fluttering and pulsing in rhythmic spasms, gushing slick down his cock in hot, wet waves that soaked your thighs and his lap and the sheets beneath you.
felix groaned—a sound ripped from the very pit of his chest, primal and deep, his pace faltering for the first time as he felt it. felt you soak him. felt you break.
“fuck—” he hissed, slamming into you again—chasing it now, rutting through the mess of your orgasm, the loud slap of his hips against your soaked skin. “you’re dripping, baby—fuck, you’re making such a mess—”
you sobbed into the sheets, body twitching, overstimulation crawling up your spine like static. but he didn’t stop. wouldn’t let up. not now. not after all of it.
and then—slowly, like the fire had finally started to burn itself out—his rhythm began to falter. just a little. his groans turned heavier, strained, his thrusts rougher but less precise. his body hunched forward, chest heaving, cock throbbing inside you as he buried himself one last time.
he shuddered against your back, hips twitching as he came inside of you, the warmth of it spilling deep and raw, filling you in heavy bursts. he stayed there for a moment, his hands slowly loosening their grip on your hips, breath ghosting against your shoulder.
then, gently, slowly, his body folded over yours.
his forehead pressed to the space between your shoulder blades. his chest to your back. one hand slid forward—shaky, tentative—and rested just beneath your ribs.
he stayed there, breathing with you.
then, without a word, he eased back.
his chest lifted off yours, his grip on your hip released fully, and for a moment, the loss of contact felt colder than the air in the room. he slid one palm down the arch of your spine, a soft, absent stroke. then came the slow shift of his hips—his cock slipping out, careful and deliberate, so tender in contrast to everything before.
you whimpered from the loss and the mess—his cum already spilling out of you in lazy drips, sliding down your thighs, thick and warm, clinging to the backs of your knees as gravity pulled it down. you twitched from the sensitivity, your body still trembling in little aftershocks, your hips useless, your arms limp where they lay tangled and bound under your chest.
you heard the faint shuffle of a drawer, the rustle of fabric, the hiss of warm water being poured. your eyes fluttered closed, head sinking into the pillow, your whole body too loose to lift.
you barely registered the soft wet cloth between your thighs until it was there—warm, soothing. he held you gently, one hand under your hip to tilt you, the other cleaning you with slow, careful strokes, wiping away the slick, the sweat, the release still dripping out of you.
he then settled you on clean sheets, wrapped a new blanket over your shoulders.
still nothing.
not a single word.
but he lay beside you, close but not pressed in, his fingers brushing soft through your hair, over your temple, down the curve of your jaw. you blinked slow and you opened your eyes.
and there he was.
your felix.
bathed in the low light of the room, hair a tousled halo of gold against the pillow, freckles blooming soft across his cheeks, lips pink and parted just barely. he looked tired. beautiful. like something that shouldn’t exist outside a dream.
you loved it. all of it. the softness now. the brutality before.
the way he made space for every version of you. the way he let himself be more than just the sun.
“i love you, felix.”
his hand stilled, resting against your cheek. his eyes softened then blinked, and they turned glassy.
“i love you too,” he whispered, his voice low, husky, still thick with the weight of everything.
you gave a little smile, lids already starting to droop again, your limbs heavy under the blanket he’d wrapped around you.
“i wouldn’t want you any other way,” you murmured.
that made him laugh—quiet, breathless, a sound like surrender.
and then you laughed too. barely a sound, more breath than voice, your smile curling into the pillow as your eyes slipped closed again.
he stayed beside you.
his fingers returned to your hair, softer than ever now, smoothing it back from your face as your breathing evened out, your body finally letting go.
and when you fell asleep, it was in silence.
the next morning, you woke slowly—warm, sore in all the right places, and still tangled in the soft scent of felix. the sheets around you were a little crooked, the pillow beside you empty.
you blinked blearily and reached for your phone, but it wasn’t the screen that caught your eye.
there was a note. folded and sitting neatly on the nightstand.
recording right now, but i’ll be back soon. pour yourself a cup of coffee. i love you! – lix ♡
you smiled—small, sleepy, still a little ruined from the night before. the words made your chest ache and flutter all at once. he hadn’t said anything heavy. no apologies. no over-explanations. just soft and simple. just felix.
you stretched out your limbs, wincing slightly at the ache before dragging yourself out of bed and into one of felix’s oversized sweaters and boxers.
barefoot and quietly smug, you padded down the hallway into the kitchen.
and there he was.
seungmin.
leaning against the counter in sweats and a hoodie, eyes fixed on his phone, coffee half-drunk on the table beside him. he looked up when he heard you—expression unreadable—and you did what anyone would do after getting absolutely obliterated in the next room over by his bandmate.
you pretended nothing happened.
“morning,” you said, voice light, moving straight to the coffee pot. “didn’t think you’d be up.”
“i’ve been up,” he said simply.
you nodded and reached for a mug—felix’s, the pale blue one with the tiny chip in the rim—and poured yourself a cup. steam curled up around your face, and you focused on it like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
and then you felt it.
his presence. he stepped closer. closer.
you didn’t dare turn around.
then, casually—like it was nothing—he reached over your shoulder and set something on the counter in front of you.
sixty bucks in cash.
you stared at the bills for a second.
then turned.
slowly.
seungmin was already taking a sip of his coffee, eyes flicking to yours over the rim of his mug.
“congrats.”
your mouth twitched, the corner pulling into the smallest smile.
you looked down at the cash again and without saying anything, you plucked the bills off the counter and shoved them straight into the front pocket of felix’s hoodie like you’d just been handed your trophy.
“you really thought i wouldn’t pull it off?” you asked, turning back to your coffee, tone breezy.
“i hoped you wouldn’t,” he deadpanned. “i was rooting for the soft boy.”
you huffed a laugh, lifting the mug to your lips. “he’s still soft.”
seungmin gave you a long, dry look.
you shrugged, eyes twinkling over the rim. “...just not all the time.”
he snorted.
then leaned back against the counter, sipping slow from his mug. “so,” he said casually, “how’d you do it?”
“do what?”
“make him snap.”
you licked your lips, fighting another smile. “i might’ve… slipped your name in there a few times.”
his eyes narrowed, slow. “yeah?”
“just—it got him pretty worked up.” you said, laughing as you set the mug down. seungmin stared for a beat.
then—he rolled his eyes. “of course it did.”
there was a long pause. not uncomfortable. just tension.
he said, quiet but clear, “tell him he doesn’t have anything to worry about.”
you nodded.
“i will.”
you stepped back slowly, letting the silence hold, and turned toward the hallway—when the front door clicked open.
both your heads turned.
felix stepped in, hair tied back, hoodie sleeves bunched at his elbows, a little windblown from the walk. his eyes lit up the moment he saw you.
“hey, angel,” he said, smile so warm it melted straight into your ribs.
you crossed the room in a few slow steps, rising onto your toes to meet him halfway. your hand curled around his jaw, thumb brushing the skin just below his cheekbone, and you kissed him.
his other hand found your waist immediately, like muscle memory, pulling you in as he smiled against your lips. he pulled away just enough to wrap his arms around you, tucking you into his chest. his chin rested lightly on top of your head, breath warm as it fanned through your hair.
you melted into him, your hands slipping under the hem of his hoodie, fingertips grazing the bare skin at his waist. his heart beat steady against your cheek, and you let yourself breathe him in.
then, behind you, a shift in the air.
felix’s gaze lifted—over your shoulder.
met seungmin’s across the room.
you didn’t see what was unraveling between the two of them.
after a moment, you pulled back slightly, enough to tilt your head and meet his eyes.
felix looked down at you with a smile. and that was all you needed.
Summary: You just wanted to lose your virginity — no drama, no strings attached. What you didn’t expect was for your friend Mingi to make it that good. One wild night, a lot of firsts, and maybe… just maybe, a reason to do it all over again.
WC: 10.5k
⚠️ warnings: smut, first times, virgin!reader, oral sex (f/m), vaginal sex, dry humping, dirty talk, praise kink, voice kink (kinda), big dick Mingi (canon, right?)
An: sorry about the wc, I just really like Mingi 🫠
Ⴡ Masterlist
You got dumped again. Yeah, seriously. At this point, it was getting old. But no matter how frustrating it was, you knew exactly what the problem was, and it wasn’t something you could just fix overnight.
You were… inexperienced.
Going to college after a lifetime of being smothered by overprotective parents meant they had successfully sent you off as a virgin. And for a while, that was fine. It wasn’t a big deal—until people started acting like you were some kind of loser just because you hadn’t fucked anyone yet.
And the guys? Every single one you tried dating was the same. Either they wanted to get into your pants before the first drink was even finished, or they pretended to be patient—like they weren’t just waiting for the moment you’d cave. You might be inexperienced, but you weren’t stupid. And as much as you wanted to get it over with, you couldn’t do it with just anyone.
But after getting dumped for the third time in two months, you decided to do something about it. Something had to change. You wished you’d just handled it back in high school like everyone else, but that ship had sailed.
Your friends told you to just ask one of your guy friends to help you out. Which sounded easy enough… until you actually pictured doing it, and embarrassment nearly killed you on the spot.
Still, if you wanted to lose your virginity, your options were limited. The random guys you’d been trying to date were too impatient, too pushy, and way too stupid.
Which meant your only real option was actually asking a friend. But which one?
You had a few options, but you needed someone who wouldn’t laugh in your face or make things weird. Someone who’d get that this was just a favor, not a relationship.
Okay. That made things a little easier.
Maybe Mingi? You’d been friends for years, you went to the same college now, and he was definitely experienced enough to help. Plus, he already knew you were a virgin, so at least you wouldn’t have to explain that part.
But how were you supposed to ask him?
Like… “Hey, I need someone to fuck me so I can finally lose my virginity and date like a normal person”?
Yeah. That didn’t sound awkward at all. Well, you would have to try. Maybe it would be less awkward if you could text him…
You: Hey! You good? Look… I kinda need to talk to you about something.
Mingi: Hey, pretty. Long time since we talked, wanna hang out at that coffee place you like?
You: Sure, we can meet there after class. Byeee, see ya.
Well, if you couldn’t even type the question, saying it out loud was going to be a nightmare. But you had to try. No backing out now.
After class, you went straight to the coffee shop and ordered your usual before Mingi arrived. The second you saw him walk through the door, your stomach dropped, a cold, nervous, oh-god-what-am-I-doing panic settling in. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down.
“Hey! Still buried in your books, nerd?”
“Yeah, and it’s been causing me some problems.” Mainly the one you were about to dump on him. “What about you? Still hitting up every party?”
“Not as much. Kinda got tired of it.”
That… was a surprise.
“Oh. Right.”
He ordered his drink, then leaned on the table, watching you. “So… what did you wanna talk about?”
Okay. You can do it.
“Uh… so… I don’t even know how to say this, Mingi.” You took a slow sip of your way too large Americano, trying to find the right words. “I mean, it might be a lot to ask, but I’m kinda out of options.”
He tilted his head, waiting.
“I got dumped again yesterday. And look, I know these guys are assholes and not worth my time, but it keeps happening because I’m a virgin. And I feel like… it’s really getting in my way, you know?”
“Uh… I don’t.”
“Of course you don’t.” You groaned, shifting in your seat. “Okay, what I’m asking… it’s just a favor, that’s all. I really want to lose my virginity, and I really don’t want it to be with those idiots I’ve been dating.”
Mingi blinked. Then blinked again.
“You’re asking me… to take your virginity?” His eyebrows shot up, his expression somewhere between shock and did I hear that right? “…Is that what’s happening here?”
“Yeah… I mean…” You trailed off, shifting uncomfortably.
Mingi still looked shocked, but you could tell—this whole situation was doing wonders for his already massive ego.
“I gotta ask… why me?” He leaned back slightly, arms crossed, clearly enjoying this a little too much. “You have a few friends.”
You sighed.
“You already know I’m a virgin. And you also know I’m not an idiot.” You glanced down at your drink, feeling your face heat up. “We’ve been friends for years, and I don’t know… I trust you.”
Mingi didn’t say anything right away, and the silence made your stomach twist.
“But if this is too much,” you added quickly, forcing a laugh, “just forget I ever said anything. And then I’ll dig a hole in the ground and hide from you for the rest of my life.”
“Relax, I was just curious,” Mingi said, holding back a grin. “Of course, I can help you with that. I think any guy in the world would.”
You rolled your eyes. His ego was thriving.
“But,” he continued, tilting his head again, making that cute puppy face at you “I gotta ask… how far have you actually gone?”
You exhaled sharply. Alright. You can do this. You weren’t exactly the type to chat about your sex life — or lack thereof — but considering you’d just asked Mingi to take your virginity, honesty was kinda mandatory at this point.
“Huh… I…”
“Oral? Fingering?” He had zero shame. Which, good for him. Terrible for you.
You cleared your throat.
“No. And… yes.”
“And did you ever… you know, finish from it?”
“Nope. Only by myself.”
That bit of information seemed to stir something in him. His expression flickered between offended and genuinely shocked.
“Damn. So the guys were really that bad, huh?” He shook his head, exhaling like this was personally upsetting. “Yeah, okay. We’re definitely not jumping straight to it, that’d be traumatizing.”
Your eyes narrowed. “What exactly are you suggesting…?”
“That we take it step by step.” He leaned in slightly, voice a little lower, a little slower. “I can’t just… do it. I mean, it’s already a painful experience for most girls, and it’d be a hell of a lot easier for you if we… prepped first.”
You were already blushing because of his lower voice. It got worse.
“Oh…OH…”
“Yeah. Well, that’s my one condition if I’m gonna help you.”
“Okay… I guess.” You swallowed, fingers tightening around your cup. “So, uh… when do we start?”
Mingi shrugged, finishing his coffee.
“You can come over tonight if you want. My roommate’s out.”
He set his cup down and looked at you expectantly. You, on the other hand, were frozen.
That soon?
You did want to get this over with. But you’d kinda imagined having some time to mentally prepare. Then again… maybe not thinking too much about it was the better option. If you gave yourself too much time, you might just chicken out entirely.
“Okay. So…”
“We can go now,” Mingi said, already standing up. “It’s getting dark anyway.” He waited for you to do the same, then tilted his head before asking you. “You’re really sure about this?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I can ask you to stop anytime, right?”
“Of course.”
You nodded, but your mind was already spinning. You couldn’t stop thinking about what you were about to do — and who you were about to do it with. But the truth was, you had no idea what was actually going to happen. Mingi had been clear, this wasn’t going to be just jumping into it.
So… were you two just going to make out and see where it led?
Jesus. Just thinking about that made your stomach flip.
You hadn’t really considered how weird this could get, but for some reason, you still felt safe about it. Mingi was a lot of things, kind of a fuckboy, sure, but he wasn’t a liar. If something felt off, he’d tell you. You just knew that.
As soon as you got to his place, Mingi gestured for you to sit on the couch before heading to the kitchen. A moment later, he came back with two cans of beer, handing you one. The silence was already killing you.
“Drink,” he said, popping open his can. “Might help you relax. You’re really tense.”
“Yeah, I am… thanks.” You exhaled, cracking yours open. “I was just about to ask for one.”
Mingi smirked before sinking into the couch beside you. “So… tell me more about these guys you dated. They’re really dumping you just because you’re a virgin?”
“Yeah… I mean, they always try to get in my pants, and when I don’t let them, they just… lose interest.” You shrugged, taking a sip. “I don’t even always tell them I’m a virgin. I don’t need that getting around and people making fun of me, you know? So I just let them assume I’m, like, frigid or something.”
“They’re just assholes.” He paused, tilting his head. “But, like… your virginity… it’s not something important to you?”
“Not exactly…” You sighed, swirling the beer in your can. “I just wish I’d gotten over it when I was younger, like all my friends did. But you know my parents.”
Mingi nodded. He definitely knew.
“I just couldn’t do it with some random guy,” you continued. “That would’ve been awful.”
“Yeah,” he murmured, watching you. “I get that.”
“And I know you’re very experienced, so…”
Mingi chuckled, finishing off his beer and setting the empty can on the coffee table.
“I wouldn’t say very… Just… enough.”
Oh. His voice. The way he looked at you.
There it was.
That shift in the air, the kind of tension you could feel settling between you. You took a slow, deep breath, then placed your empty can next to his.
“If you say so…”
“So… whenever you’re ready, pretty.”
Your stomach flipped again.
“Can we… kiss?”
Mingi’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “Yeah. That’d be a great start. I told you… I wanna take things slow.”
You were already sitting close, so all it took was him leaning in, a slight tilt of his head, a shift in the air between you. You mirrored him, your breath catching just before your lips met.
Soft. Damn, his lips were soft… and so plump.
So far, nothing too unfamiliar. You let yourself ease into it, testing the feel of him. But then his tongue brushed over your lips before slipping into your mouth, meeting yours in a slow, teasing slide. And that… that sent a rush of heat straight through you.
In just seconds, that shy kiss turned into something messy, wet, hot, needy. Damn it. You could feel the effect between your legs, heat pooling inside your panties. And just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, Mingi chuckled, that deep, lazy sound vibrating against your skin as he trailed kisses down your chin, your neck.
“How you feeling?” he murmured against your throat, his voice low, teasing.
“G-good…”
His lips curved against your skin. “Hm… you’re pressing your thighs together.” Another kiss, right under your jaw. “Already horny?”
God. You swallowed hard. Why were you suddenly so shy?
“Uh… yes.”
Mingi hummed like he expected that answer.
“Ever dry-humped someone before?”
“No… never.”
Another smirk, he was such a tease… and then, two slow taps against his thigh.
“Come here. Sit on my lap.”
You hesitated for half a second before obeying, standing up just to settle yourself over him. His thighs… fuck. Thick. Comfortable. Solid under you. And even through his jeans, you could feel him. He was hard, very.
“Good girl.” Those words hit you in a very specific way…
Your hands rested on his broad shoulders as you kissed him again. Embarrassment still lingered somewhere in the back of your mind, but it was quickly drowned out by the heat pooling deep in your core. You let your body take over, responding to him — the kissing, the touching… the way his big hands gripped your waist, strong and steady.
“Come on, baby. Grind on me.”
Oh, fuck.
You felt those words straight between your legs, a sharp pulse of need making you clench so hard you whimpered against his lips.
Mingi groaned, his hands sliding down to cup your ass, guiding you into motion, urging you to move against him. Against his hard cock pressing through his jeans. Against his thick thighs.
“Just like that…” The delicious friction sent sparks up your spine, and soon enough, you were moving all on your own, chasing more of it. “Don’t stop.”
“Mingi… fuck!”
You ground down harder, a little faster, just enough to push you right over the edge. The orgasm hit you in waves, leaving you shivering and whimpering in his lap as his hands held you steady. He murmured soft praises, his voice thick with something dangerous, something that made your toes curl. Wow, that was really fast.
And all you could think was: Holy shit! You just had the best orgasm of your life. From grinding on your friend. And you didn’t know how you were supposed to feel about that, but you were just fine for now.
“So… was it good?” Mingi chuckled against your neck, his lips trailing soft, teasing kisses back up to your mouth. “You good?”
“Yeah, but… I feel… uh…” You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, to think. “I don’t know. I just came, but I’m still…”
Needy. You didn’t have to say.
His lips curled into a smirk, and you didn’t even know you like that pretty face of him that much.
“We can keep going if you want to.”
“What would be the next step? Since you wanna take things slow.”
“Hm…” He tilted his head, considering. “Maybe I can make you feel good with my fingers. If you’re okay with that.”
Your brain short-circuited for a second. Because fuck. Your panties were soaked, embarrassingly wet just from kissing and grinding against him. But you were still throbbing, still desperate for more.
So you just… nodded.
“Yeah… it’s fine.”
Still perched on his lap, you hesitated before shifting off him, kneeling on the couch beside him. Your legs felt shaky, but not from exhaustion, no. It was pure anticipation.
Mingi followed, sliding down to kneel on the floor in front of you, his eyes dark and hungry as he leaned in.
“You want me to take your shorts off, or you wanna do it yourself?” He murmured the words against your lips, stealing a quick peck before trailing his fingers down to the waistband of your shorts.
“Y-you can do it…”
His touch was slow, deliberate, as he unbuttoned your shorts and slid them down, pushing them aside like they were nothing.
Then, his hands settled on your hips, his thumbs rubbing slow, soothing circles against your skin.
“Wanna keep the panties on?” His voice was low, husky. “I can still make you feel good like this, if you’re not ready to take them off.”
You should’ve been embarrassed. Should’ve felt shy about the way he was staring at you, at your pussy, taking in the obvious wet stain darkening the fabric.
But you weren’t.
Because he looked wrecked just from seeing you like this. And you loved that, really turned you on even more.
“...It’s okay,” you whispered. “You can take them off too. I mean… there’s no point feeling shy now, right?” Your breath hitched. “You’re gonna see my pussy anyway…”
“Hm…” He chuckled at your words, fingers toying with the waistband of your panties. “So… you told me you’ve been fingered before, right? How was it for you?”
You hesitated for a second before exhaling, remembering the times you let that happen.
“It was always rushed. Like… in the backseat of a car, or some dark corner in a club. Sometimes it just felt uncomfortable. Sometimes a little painful…”
Mingi hummed, his fingers slipping lower, tracing light patterns over the fabric.
“So has anyone actually seen this pretty pussy, baby?” His voice had dropped, thick with something you couldn’t quite name. “Am I really the first?”
Your breath hitched as he hooked his fingers under the elastic, dragging your panties down slowly, revealing your mound first, then the rest as you lifted your hips just enough to help him.
“Yes… you are.”
“Fuck.” His exhale was heavy, like he was struggling. His hands smoothed over your bare thighs, slow and teasing, while you instinctively pressed your legs together. You had just told him there was no point in feeling shy, but still… his eyes on you like that made your skin burn. Mingi let out a soft, amused hum, his lower voice killing you. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, baby.” His thumbs brushed gently along the inside of your thighs. “But I need you to talk to me, okay? I don’t want you to feel any pain.”
You nodded, but he wasn’t done.
“Good girl.” He said that again, making you shiver once more at his words. His lips curled into something dangerously soft, dangerously sweet. “Now… spread your legs for me.” His voice was just sinful, God. “Let me see you.”
Even with a lingering trace of shyness, you spread your legs for him. Mingi let out a sound that looked like a moan, his eyes locked onto your glistening pussy like he was savoring the sight. You knew you were dripping, could feel it pooling beneath you, and the thought alone made you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for his touch.
“Nah-ah.” His voice was pure, silken dominance. A soft kiss landed on your thigh, his warm palm resting against your belly. “Eyes on me, baby. I wanna see every little reaction. So behave, and look at me while I touch you, okay?”
Your breath hitched, but you obeyed, blinking up at him, cheeks burning under the weight of his gaze.
Mingi started slow, his fingers first trailing over your mound, teasing, barely there, making you ache for more. Then, with the lightest pressure, he dipped lower, parting your folds, gathering your slick on his fingertips. You whimpered when he finally brushed over your clit, already swollen, already throbbing for him.
“Fuck, you’re so wet…” His voice was rougher now, and when he pressed down on your clit, moving in slow, deliberate circles, your body reacted instantly. Your thighs threatened to snap shut, but his free hand kept you open.
“Talk to me, baby.” He smirked at you, making your cheeks burn again. “You like it when I touch you here?”
“Y-yes… feels so good, Mingi…” Your voice was barely more than a breathy moan, your chest rising and falling rapidly. God, what was this man doing to you?
“Good…” He kept up the slow, torturous rhythm, circling, sliding, making sure you felt every second of it. And then he smirked again, eyes flickering down between your legs. “I can see you clenching…” His fingers teased lower, brushing over your dripping hole, but never pushing in. “You want a finger inside this pretty pussy, huh?”
“Yes… please.”
You’d never felt like this before. Sure, you’d touched yourself before — your fingers, the desperate grind against your pillow. But this? Craving someone else's touch this badly? That was new.
“Yeah?” Mingi’s voice was warm, teasing, his breath fanning against your skin. “Alright, baby. Gonna put it in now. Tell me if it hurts, I’ll stop right away.”
He played with your clit for a second longer, making you squirm, before twisting his wrist and easing his middle finger inside you. He slid in easily — too easily — because you were already so wet, dripping onto his palm.
“Fuck…” He exhaled, watching the way you clenched around him, his voice thick with something almost reverent. “You’re clenching around my finger so tight, baby. Tell me how it feels.”
“Hm… it’s okay. No pain…” Your words were soft, airy, but your body was already responding to him, hips shifting just the slightest bit, searching for more.
“Yeah?” He started moving, slow thrusts, just the tip at first, then deeper, dragging against your walls in slow, deliberate strokes. “You like it like this? Or maybe…” He let his finger sink all the way in, curling it just right, hitting somewhere entirely new inside you.
A moan ripped from your throat before you could stop it.
Mingi chuckled, clearly pleased. “I think I have my answer… Looks like I just found your G-spot.”
“It’s… embarrassing that I couldn’t find it myself…”
“Mm, it’s fine, baby…” His tone was honeyed sin, smooth and coaxing. “It’s kinda deep, see?” He pushed in again, curling that single finger right against the spot, making your body jolt. “Here… this spongy little place… this is where you’re most sensitive inside.”
Another slow press, another deliberate curl of his finger, sending a shudder down your spine, leaving you gasping.
“Feels… different…”
“A good different? Or do you want me to stop?”
“No… keep going. It’s good… really good…”
“Mm…” He smirked, his free hand sliding down to find your clit, circling it in slow, teasing motions while his finger pressed against that spot inside you over and over again. “Like this, baby? Feels good?”
“Yes…” Your voice was breathy, almost desperate. It felt too good — like nothing you’d ever experienced before. You had no idea your body could respond like this, that just one finger could unravel you so easily. But now you knew. And you needed more. “Don’t stop…”
Mingi hummed in approval, his movements shifting, pressing into your G-spot with more precision, rubbing your clit with just the right amount of pressure. It was overwhelming, the pleasure washing over you in such an intense way it left you breathless. Your hips had a mind of their own now, rolling into his touch, grinding against his hand as you chased the high building inside you.
“That’s it, baby…” His voice was low, dripping with praise. “Keep riding my fingers like that… fuck, you look so pretty like this…”
You felt something building inside you—something different. A weird kind of pressure you’d never felt during an orgasm before. It made you panic a little.
“Mingi… feels weird.” But it still felt good, so you didn’t stop. You kept grinding against his hand, chasing the high.
“Weird how? Talk to me.”
“Like I’m gonna… pee…” you admitted, your voice small, embarrassed.
“Mmh…” He didn’t sound the least bit bothered. “Wanna try letting go, baby? You might squirt if you do. It’ll feel so good…”
But you couldn’t. The sensation was too intense, too unfamiliar. And the idea of actually doing that in front of him made your whole body tense up.
“I can’t… I just wanna cum, please… make me cum…”
He kissed your thigh again, soft and reassuring, his finger still buried deep inside you. But now his focus shifted. His other hand is working your clit in that perfect way. God, he knew exactly what he was doing.
“Come on, baby… cum on my fingers. Keep moving, just like that…”
You did. And it hit you hard. Your orgasm crashed over you, stealing your breath, making your legs tremble uncontrollably. You couldn’t even speak, so you just moaned and whimpered as he worked you through it, drawing it out until you were spent.
Then he slowly pulled his finger out and, without breaking eye contact, brought it to his mouth and licked it clean. The sight alone made your pussy clench again.
“You taste so fucking good…”
You bit your lower lip, trying to hold back a moan, because fuck. He wasn’t even touching you anymore.
“So…” Mingi sat back down beside you, his tone playful. “How was it for you?”
You let out a breathy laugh, still recovering. “That was amazing… thank you. Uh—” your hand moved to his thigh, remembering how you’d been grinding on it minutes ago, “—want me to return the favor?”
“Not today, pretty. Tonight was all about figuring out what you like.”
“Well, mission accomplished.”
“Next time we can try adding another finger… if you’re up for it. Maybe I could eat you out, too.”
“You really wanna do that?”
He looked at you like you were crazy.
“What kind of question is that?” His eyes dropped briefly to your bare skin. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know… Some guys just don’t like giving head, I guess.”
“Straight guys? I don’t think I know anyone like that. Shit… were your exes that kind of loser?”
“One of them… maybe two.”
“Yeah, they probably didn’t like girls to begin with.” He laughed, shaking his head. “But me? I love eating pussy. You’re so damn responsive… so sensitive. Probably ‘cause you’re a virgin. Honestly, I had a lot of fun today.”
You smiled, cheeks warm. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It is!” He gave you one of his cutest smiles, like he wasn’t just talking about eating you out a minute ago.
“Wanna crash here or want me to take you home?”
“I don’t know… I think I could stay on your couch.”
“Damn, do you think I’m an asshole or something?” He laughed, but it had a bit of a bitter edge to it. “You can use my bed. I mean, if you want, we can share. It’s big, and I don’t mind. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll take the couch.”
“Calm down, Mingi… I just don’t wanna bother.”
“We’re friends, relax. So, bed or couch?”
“We can share the bed, I don’t mind.” You were just a little embarrassed, but it was fine. “Give me one of your shirts or something so I can sleep.”
“Wanna shower?” You did. You were still a mess, sticky and flustered, adjusting your clothes like it would help somehow. “Go ahead, I’ll order some food.”
Mingi was so sweet you couldn’t help but feel safe there, like actually comfortable. That post-makeout awkwardness you usually felt with guys? Nonexistent. Maybe it was because he was your friend, and it really felt like he cared.
You took a long, needed shower, and when you were done, he handed you a pair of boxers, some comfy shorts, and a soft oversized shirt like you’d asked. He’d ordered Chinese, and you ate with him while watching TV like nothing had just happened between you — chatting about college, life, random stuff. At some point, you were barely keeping your eyes open.
“Let’s go to bed. It’s pretty late,” he said, turning off the TV and getting up. “I’m gonna shower. You can go ahead and sleep if you want.”
So you did. You headed to his room, crawled into his bed and immediately sank into the smell of his sheets. That soft, clean scent of his cologne was everywhere. Your brain briefly panicked about what you’d tell your roommate the next day, assuming you’d even tell her anything. But she'd probably annoy you until you did.
You were drifting off when you heard Mingi come in. He had a towel slung low around his hips, and you peeked — just a little — before shutting your eyes again. He changed, then slipped into bed right beside you, and suddenly your heart was racing. He smelled like soap, like shampoo, like everything warm and familiar, and holy shit, all you wanted to do was reach out and touch him. But you didn’t. You forced yourself to stay still, and eventually, you managed to fall asleep.
But nothing — nothing — could’ve prepared you for the morning.
You woke up to a warm weight draped over your waist. At first, you almost ignored it… until you remembered you weren’t in your bed. You weren’t in your room. You were at Mingi’s. And his arm was on your waist.
And then it all came rushing back… the way his finger felt inside you, the things he said, the way you came so hard you couldn’t speak… and now? Now he was pressed right up against you, and very clearly hard. You could feel his cock resting against your lower back, thick and hot even through the fabric, and you really, really didn’t want to freak out.
But fuck.
How?
You shifted your hips, just a little, enough to grind back into him, slow and deliberate, because you wanted to feel him. All of him.
Mingi mumbled something low, half-asleep, and pulled you closer, spooning you tight, his breath warm against your neck. The way it made you shiver? Unfair. You bit back a soft moan, trying to keep it together.
You couldn’t stop wondering… was this just morning wood? Or was he actually turned on?
But the way he was holding you, not moving away, letting your ass press right up against him like that… yeah, it could definitely be both.
“Hey…” His voice was deep and rough, soaked in sleep, and it went straight to your core. “You doing that on purpose?”
“I was just… trying to feel you.”
Your voice came out breathier than you expected. He let out a low groan, somewhere between sleepy and way too sexy for your own good.
“Then why don’t you just touch it?”
“You want me to touch your dick?” You didn’t mean to sound so surprised, but damn.
He chuckled against your neck, his body shaking a little with it.
“You did say you wanted to feel me.” Then he rolled onto his back, arms behind his head, shameless and relaxed. “I’m all yours.”
You could see it. The tent in his shorts, the thick bulge straining against the fabric… and shit, it looked huge.
You swallowed hard, your shaky hands practically begging to touch him.
You sat up on the bed, reached for him, and the second your fingers brushed over his clothed length, you felt it. Hard and heavy, all for you. Fuck.
“Shit, baby… want me to take it out for you?”
His voice was low and wrecked, thick with lust, and god, he wanted this just as badly as you did.
“I can do it.” Your fingers slid under his waistband, tugging down his shorts and boxers in one go until his cock sprang free. Thick, flushed, and already leaking, smacking lightly against his stomach. “So big…”
“Yeah?” He wrapped a hand around himself, giving a slow squeeze that made precum beads at the tip. “You like it?”
“Yes…” God, you did. He was pretty, and that wasn't something you'd ever said about a dick before. But his? Fuck, yes. “Let me touch you.”
You weren’t some handjob expert or anything, you’d done it before, sure, but this felt different. Bigger. More intense. More him. Still, you wanted to do it right. You wanted to make him feel good.
Mingi watched you as you wrapped your fingers around him, slow strokes at first, eyes flicking between your hand and your face. His cock twitched in your grip, and that alone made your thighs clench.
He hummed in approval when you squeezed a bit harder, stroking slowly, getting his tip wetter with precum before you could do it a bit faster.
But you wanted more.
You didn’t even think, just leaned in and spit on his cock to help your hands glide easier.
The slick sound it made when you started stroking him faster had you biting your lip, and then came his whimper… breathy, needy, absolutely filthy.
“Fuck… you’re good at this…”
Hearing that lit something in you. Gave you all the confidence you needed to keep going.
You spit on him again, not giving a damn about being messy, and the way Mingi moaned for you… it was the hottest sound you’d ever heard.
You were using both hands now; he was big, too big for just one. It made your hands feel small, and the thought of having his cock inside you? Kinda terrifying… but mostly it just made your pussy clench and drip even more.
“Baby… I’m gonna cum—” he panted, voice desperate, eyes locked on you like he was begging you not to stop.
And you didn’t. You weren’t stopping until you felt his hot load spill across your fingers.
He let out a deep, wrecked moan as he came, hips twitching, cock pulsing in your hands. His cum painted your fingers, spilled onto his belly, his pelvis, so much of it.
God, it was so hot.
You loved the feeling, knowing you made him come like that. Make him lose it with just your hands.
“So…” Mingi was still catching his breath, chest rising and falling. “Now you’ve felt me.”
You laughed under your breath. Yeah, the whole thing started with you just wanting to feel how hard he was. But this? This was so much better.
“Yeah… I liked that. And…” You still had his cum on your fingers, warm and sticky. And you didn’t fight the urge anymore. You brought them to your mouth, licking them clean right in front of him — just like he did with you. “I like your taste too.”
“Fuck, you’re killing me.”
He sat on the bed and pulled you closer, kissing you like he needed it. That caught you off guard. You thought most guys would be grossed out by kissing you after you had their cum in your mouth.
But not Mingi.
He kissed you deep, tongue and all, messy and hot, just the way you liked it.
“Can I do something? Please?” he asked, breathless against your lips.
“What?” You were already dizzy from the kiss alone.
“I wanna eat your pussy…”
You felt heat rush through your whole body. You wanted that, bad. Even if the sunlight was peeking through the window, making everything feel more exposed. There was no way you could say no.
“…Okay.”
You didn’t know exactly what to do, but Mingi did. He gently switched your positions, laying you on your back and climbing over you.
He tugged your shorts off and tossed them aside without looking, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from your pussy. You were soaked, your arousal shining under the light, and it clearly drove him wild.
You didn’t need to be asked, your legs opened for him on their own, desperate to know how it would feel to have his mouth on you.
He kissed your thighs first, slow and wet, his soft lips making obscene sounds against your flushed skin. You couldn’t stop staring at him, he looked like he was enjoying this as much as you.
Your eyes locked, and in that second, you knew: if you wanted him to stop, he would. You felt safe. Even with your legs spread wide open in front of him.
Then his lips met your mound. A chill shot through your spine and you had to fight the urge to squeeze your thighs together.
But Mingi kept you open for him.
He pressed a kiss to your clit first, then started to lick it, slowly, teasing, just getting a taste of you. Watching your reactions.
Your eyes fluttered shut. It was already one of the best things you’d ever felt — and somehow, it got better. He started sucking your clit, flicking his tongue over it, then dipped just the tip of his tongue inside you. Then he was making out with your pussy, completely lost in it.
You wanted to scream. Your whole body was trembling, your chest tight with how good it felt. You couldn’t keep your hips still, you were grinding against his mouth, moaning uncontrollably, fingers tangled in his hair as you pulled him even closer.
You were so close. You could feel yourself falling apart.
And when your orgasm hit, it wrecked you.
Your legs trembled, your stomach clenched, and your moans were so loud you didn’t even register them until your body started to come down.
It was hands down the best orgasm of your life.
Fuck.
Mingi kissed your thighs while you were still trembling, then crawled up your body to press soft kisses to your neck and lips.
You could taste yourself on his tongue, and fuck, that was easily the hottest thing you’d ever done.
“So… did you like it?”
“Are you kidding?” Your voice was barely audible. “That was insanely good.”
“I’m glad.” He let himself drop beside you with a satisfied sigh, stretching lazily. “Hmm… I think we should get some breakfast. But… my roommate might be home already…”
What?
Fuck.
There was someone there? And Mingi just let you moan like that?
“You didn’t think that was worth mentioning before I screamed loud enough for your neighbors to know your name?”
“Nope,” he said, grinning. “Didn’t want you to hold back. But relax. If he heard anything, he won’t care.”
“Fuck, Mingi. I’m so embarrassed.”
“There’s no need. He won’t say anything, and he won’t even know it was you. I’m not telling anyone.”
“…Okay then. Thanks. I guess.”
You didn’t stay in bed much longer. Not because it wasn’t tempting, but because you were starving. You changed back into your clothes from yesterday, and Mingi took you out to your favorite coffee shop so you could have your much-needed morning caffeine.
What surprised you most was how easy everything felt. There was no awkwardness between you two.
You talked about college, cracked dumb jokes, and laughed about random stuff like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just made you come harder than anyone ever had.
But then it hit you: a vivid flashback of Mingi’s mouth between your legs, and your thighs clenched on their own. Your cheeks burned instantly.
“What?” he asked, smirking. “You’re blushing.”
“Yeah, I…” Why couldn’t you breathe properly all of a sudden? “Sorry, I just…”
“You were thinking about the dirty stuff we did, huh?” He leaned closer, teasing. “I think you might be ready to really do it.”
“I was… and you think so?”
“Yeah. I figured you might be a little traumatized from the other guys,” he said gently, “but you’re doing fine. So, whenever you feel ready… we can.”
You were speechless. Truth was, you’d felt ready the second he first kissed you. He had been nothing but respectful, never pushing, never rushing, and that made you want him even more.
“…Okay, so what do you think about tonight?”
Mingi raised his eyebrows, looking a little surprised by what you’d just said. You were surprised, too. You thought it would take longer for you to let go like that. But the truth was… you felt ready. And the best part? Him.
You weren’t going to lose your virginity to some random loser. It was going to be with someone you trusted. Someone who cared about you.
“It’s totally up to you. I’m free tonight,” he said with a soft smile, a sweet one this time. “You sure about this?”
“Yeah… I really want to.”
Mingi smiled wider and, like the absolute prince he was, formally invited you on a date. He said he didn’t want to just take you to his place and jump into bed — he wanted to give you the whole experience. And you kinda liked the idea.
He even walked you home. But the moment you stepped into your apartment, your roommate nearly lost her mind.
“Tell me everything!!! You slept with your hot friend, didn’t you?! I saw you two! Holy shit, he’s gorgeous… you’re so fucking lucky.”
“I didn’t…” you muttered, cheeks burning. “Yet.”
You were way too embarrassed to give her all the details, like how he made you moan louder than you ever had in your life. So you just said one thing led to another… and now you had a date.
That was enough to send her into full panic-mode-on-your-behalf. She practically dragged you out of the house to buy lingerie, insisting that if you were finally going to lose your virginity, you needed something sexy. And you knew that she was right.
You found a few beautiful sets. Lacy bras and panties that made you feel way hotter than you expected. But once you bought them, it really hit you: this was happening. You were finally going to have sex.
Fuck.
You still couldn’t believe it.
Back home, your roommate helped you style your hair and pick out an outfit for the night.
She was genuinely happy for you, and you were getting really nervous. But in the best possible way.
“Listen… it might hurt a little. But it’ll feel good after, okay? Just keep that in mind.”
She wasn’t trying to scare you — she was actually being gentle — but it wasn’t exactly helping. “And he’s experienced, right? That’s a very good thing.”
“I know it’s gonna hurt…” Because Mingi was big. Like, the biggest you’d ever seen. “But I’m not really that scared about the pain. I’m more nervous about… what happens after.”
“Like… things getting weird between you two?”
“I don’t think they will…”
And you meant it. Mingi didn’t make things weird. He made you feel safe.
“Then relax,” she said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “And for the love of God, use a condom.”
That made you laugh, even if you weren’t sure why. Maybe because you were quietly freaking out and laughter was the only thing keeping you from losing it.
And yeah… time was running out. He’d be there any minute, and your nerves weren’t exactly calming down.
You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that it was Mingi. You’d already done things with him, intimate things. This was just the next step. You wanted it. And you trusted him. Everything was going to be fine.
Your roommate helped you finish your makeup, soft and glowy, just the way you liked, and a few minutes later, your phone buzzed.
Mingi was calling. He was already downstairs, waiting for you.
When you came down, he was already in the car, parked right in front of your building. As soon as you got in, the scent of his cologne hit you. Clean, expensive, and so him. He looked really good too, even more so in those clothes.
“Hi…” you said, trying not to fall apart while buckling your seatbelt. “Where are you taking me?”
“Well… I know you like Italian food, so I picked a nice Italian restaurant.”
“You’re making me really nervous, you know? I…” your voice was shaky, your breathing unsteady. “I just feel a little weird doing this, like…”
Like it was something serious. That’s what you meant.
“There’s no need to be nervous, you know that, right?” he said gently. “We’ve gone out to eat a bunch of times. The only difference is that tonight, I’m helping you with something… personal.” He smirked, starting the car. “Could’ve happened before, if you wanted.”
“I just don’t want you to think I’m unsure about this. I want it. I’ve been thinking about it all day, actually… it’s just… I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Maybe you’re just overthinking it,” he said, flashing you that same calm, charming smile. “It’s all good. We don’t need to plan every step. Let’s just eat, talk, and see where the night takes us.”
He was right, you knew that. But still, why was your heart racing like that? Damn.
Either way, you managed to calm down a bit when he let you pick the music.
Dinner was amazing. You ate well, sipped on some very good wine, and Mingi showed you just how much of a gentleman he could be on a date. You’d been out with him before, sure, but it never felt like this. This was different. This was a real date.
A few hours passed in what felt like minutes. Eating, drinking, laughing, talking. When the check came, he grabbed it and paid before you could even peek at the price.
As you were leaving the restaurant, his hand found your lower back — guiding you gently, protectively, until you reached the car. That simple touch made you shiver, even though you were way calmer than earlier.
“So…” he said once you were both buckled in. “Wanna go somewhere else?”
The playful tone in his voice helped a lot. You were still a little nervous, sure, but you knew exactly what you wanted now. You weren’t backing out.
“Maybe your place, handsome,” you replied, matching his tone.
He chuckled, turning the engine on. “Not nervous anymore?”
“Just a little. But I’m good.”
“That’s good.”
You looked over at him while he drove, and damn, he looked so good. So relaxed, so confident. You were on a date with a ridiculously hot guy… and you were going to sleep with him. Silly thoughts, maybe. But you couldn’t stop them.
Not long after you left the restaurant, Mingi was already pulling into the parking lot of his building, and you could feel the thick tension between you as soon as you stepped into the elevator. He was acting all relaxed, but you could tell… he was probably just as nervous as you.
When he opened the door to his apartment, you walked into the living room a little faster than you meant to, maybe driven by all that anticipation building inside you. He locked the door behind you and turned the lights on.
“Do you want something to drink…?”
“Not now, but thanks. I’m kinda nervous…” You bit your lower lip, taking a good look at him. God, he looked so good. So fucking good. “Can we… go to your room?”
“I’m kinda nervous too, to be honest. I’m gonna be your first, and I really don’t want this to be a bad experience for you. I’ll try my best.”
“Mingi, I trust you. I really do. I’m not even worried about that…”
“Good… so, we’re both nervous and in the mood. What are we waiting for?”
You chuckled at his words as he guided you to his bedroom. He had changed the sheets, it smelled really nice in there, clean but still like him. You sat right on the edge of his bed and waited as he closed the door behind you.
When he turned around and looked at you, his gaze was so intense, you could feel he was holding something back. And fuck… you couldn’t wait to find out what he was going to do to you.
Mingi sat right next to you, and after making you squirm under his intense stare, he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you into a rough, hungry kiss. Fuck… it was really happening now. Kissing him wasn’t new, but this time it felt different. It felt hotter, more desperate, like you both couldn’t wait any longer.
Your body was already burning up, and it was like he knew exactly what you needed. Without saying a word, he unzipped your dress and slid it off you like it was nothing, not even giving you a second to overthink it. You let him, kissing him harder, wanting more.
You couldn’t help but silently thank your friend for making you buy that lingerie set, because the second Mingi saw you sitting there in just your bra and panties, he let out the filthiest fucking groan.
He hooked a finger under the strap of your bra, playing with it, before biting your lip and trailing his mouth down your neck. Then, without hesitation, he reached behind you, unhooked your bra with one quick move, and tossed it aside like he couldn’t get it off fast enough.
He was still fully dressed, it didn’t feel fair at all. So you tugged at his shirt, desperate to feel more of him. You had to break the kiss for just a second to pull it off, and that gave you a chance to really look at him… his flushed face, his lips already swollen from how hard you’d been kissing him. You couldn’t help yourself. You had to bite them, suck on them, make him feel just as desperate as you did.
You pushed him back until he was lying flat on the bed, and as soon as he hit the mattress, you climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. This time, it was you who kissed him like you were starving for it, your tongue in his mouth, your hands all over his chest, raking your nails down his skin.
His hands slid down from your waist to your ass, gripping you so hard it almost hurt, squeezing and groping until you couldn’t help but moan into his mouth. He pulled you closer, pressing you down against the bulge in his pants, making you grind against him as your bare tits brushed over his chest.
But he wanted more. He pulled you enough to bury his face in your breasts, licking and sucking your nipples, teasing them with his hot tongue until they were aching. He devoured you, biting just hard enough to make you gasp, his lips marking you, claiming every inch of your skin. Fuck, it felt so good you couldn’t think.
You shifted to kiss him again, grinding shamelessly against his clothed cock, your hips moving on instinct as dirty flashbacks flooded your mind. You could already feel how soaked your panties were, though they barely counted as panties at all. The thin, see-through thong did nothing to hide how wet and desperate you’d gotten for him.
“Baby… I gotta…” He grabbed your hips, holding you still for a second as his hands moved down to unbuckle his pants. You hadn’t even realized how tight they were on him. “Let me take these off.”
As soon as he shoved them down and kicked them away, you climbed right back on top of him, grinding against his cock again, slow and needy. He left his boxers on, but you could already see the wet spot spreading there.
You really wanted to make him feel good, you felt this urge to try something new, it was pulsing inside you. You rested your hands on his chest, slowly breaking the kiss.
“Mingi… can I…” Your fingers slid down to his waistband, teasing, pulling the elastic just enough to catch a glimpse of the neatly trimmed hair there. “Can I suck you off?”
He blinked at you a few times, like he couldn’t quite believe what you’d just said. Of course, you knew you were offering something no man in the world could resist, and you wanted to get that exact reaction out of him. It worked.
“F… fuck. You really wanna do that?” He licked his lips, almost trembling beneath you. “If you really want to… do it. I know I’m gonna fucking love it.”
“It’s my first time…” you murmured, trailing wet kisses along his jaw, down his neck, then over his chest and hard abs. “Tell me how to make you feel good.”
He just nodded, breath hitching, eyes fixed on you as you slid his boxers down, finally freeing his cock. It sprang up, thick and heavy, slapping against his lower belly. Your mouth watered instantly. Fuck… you’d never thought about sucking a dick before, but you needed it, craved the taste of him.
You wet your lips first, then stroked him slowly a few times, just to watch the precum bead at the tip. You leaned in and cleaned it up with your tongue. It tasted a little salty, but it only made you crave more. You licked along his length, making him groan again, a sound that you felt deep between your legs as you clenched harder than you thought was possible.
Wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, you started sucking on the tip, just like your friends had described before. God, you liked his taste, and you were already making a mess with your spit and his precum.
“Just like that, baby… make it wet. I like messy.”
Fuck, his voice. You couldn’t believe how turned on you were just from sucking him off.
You tried to take more of him into your mouth, and you gagged a little when he hit the back of your throat, but the way he moaned almost made you not care at all.
“You’re so pretty sucking dick, baby… keep going…” He caressed your head, holding your hair to get a better view as you started moving a little faster. “Fuck, yes… use your hand too. Like that… fuck. Such a good girl for me.”
You didn’t care if you were choking on his cock or not. You loved being praised like that. You could already feel how wet you were, ready to drip at any second.
You kept using your hand just like he told you to, listening to every instruction, loving how much he kept telling you how good you were at it. You bobbed your head faster, getting used to taking him while jerking him off at the same time. It was hard at first, but now you were doing it easily.
“I don’t wanna cum in your mouth… let's stop here. Let me eat your pussy now.”
He gently pushed you away, watching as a string of spit kept him connected to your swollen lips.
“God, you’re gonna kill me.” He touched your lower lip, running his thumb across it, as if he couldn’t resist praising you. “Lay down and spread those legs for me, huh?”
You used the back of your hand to wipe your chin and happily laid down for him, letting him slide your ruined panties off in a second.
“Fucking God, you’re so wet…” He ran his fingers between your pussy lips, feeling just how slick you were. “Baby got this wet just from sucking my cock?”
Yes, you did. And you were so horny that any trace of embarrassment had already faded. You nodded, spreading your legs a bit more, silently begging him to lick your pussy because you couldn’t wait another second.
Mingi didn’t make you wait. He dived in, eating you out like you were his favorite fucking meal. His groans and moans vibrated against your pussy, his tongue teasing your entrance before he slipped a finger inside, making your head spin. Fuck. You ground down on his face, unable to stop yourself… your whole body was on fire, and you screamed when he added a second finger, the sudden stretch making you shiver under his touch.
There was nothing but pure pleasure. He finger-fucked you so fast and so deep that the obscene wet sounds echoed through the room, proof of how messy and turned on you were.
“Gonna cum… fuck, don’t stop, please…” You clutched at his hair, grinding your pussy against his face, sloppy and desperate. He loved every second of it. So did you.
You tried to close your legs when your orgasm ripped through you, stealing every breath and almost your soul, but he didn’t let you. You whimpered, tried to push him away, but your legs barely worked. He finally stopped touching you, but kept his eyes fixed, watching the way your pussy kept clenching even after you came.
"That was so hot, baby..." When you finally came down from your high, you saw Mingi ripping open the condom and rolling it down his cock. "Ready?"
"Yes. Fuck. Yes." You didn’t mean to sound so desperate, but your pussy wasn’t exactly letting your brain make decisions anymore. Your legs were already spread, your body completely relaxed, and you couldn’t possibly be any wetter. Everything was ready.
"Okay, I’m gonna put it in… slowly. Tell me if you need me to stop, okay?"
He hovered over you, eyes locked on yours, holding himself up with one arm while guiding his cock to your entrance with the other. You felt the pressure, the stretch as he started pushing in—slow, careful. There was pain, but not in a way that made you want to stop. It was… thick. Full. He was big. You knew that. But feeling it? That was something else. And he was barely halfway in.
"God, you’re so big…" You gripped his biceps, biting down on your lip.
"You can take it." He leaned in and kissed your cheek, his voice deep and steady. "It’s just the tip now, but you can take my cock. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?"
You moaned just from hearing him say that. He already knew how much you loved being praised, and when he felt you clenching around him, he groaned.
"Fuck... can I keep going?"
You nodded, bracing yourself, but the pain never got too sharp. He didn’t bottom out just yet, but even half of him made you feel stretched to your limits. Still, the thought of having him completely inside you made your whole body ache for more. You focused on relaxing, breathing slowly.
"Fuck... I want more. Give it to me. Please."
Mingi waited a few seconds, like he needed to be sure you were okay, and then did exactly what you asked. He was so gentle, so patient—you couldn’t have asked for a better first time. And then it happened. His cock slid all the way in, filling you to the hilt.
The feeling was overwhelming. You felt so full, so hot, so incredibly stretched.
"Tell me when I can move."
You pulled him in for a kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist.
"Move... please..."
Nothing could’ve prepared you for that. Not fingers. Not toys. Nothing. It burned at first, but not enough to stop. You were soaked, and the sounds—wet, obscene, addictive—only made you more delirious. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on how he moved inside you, how deep he was, how thick he felt.
But you needed to see it. You looked down, desperate to watch the way your pussy was taking him.
Mingi got the hint. He sat back on his knees, shifting your hips slightly so you could see it happen—see his cock disappearing inside you over and over.
"Play with your clit for me." He grabbed your thighs, his eyes fixed on where you were connected. "Fuck, you're taking me so well..."
You licked your fingers and started rubbing your clit. It was swollen, hypersensitive, and the added stimulation made you moan like a mess. You didn’t care. You just needed more.
"Feels good, baby?" He held himself deep inside you. "Think you can cum for me like that?"
"Yes..." You looked again, watching how slick his cock got each time he slid in. You didn’t stop rubbing, and soon your hips started moving too, chasing that feeling. You felt everything—his size, his weight, the way he hit that same spot his fingers found before—and it made you dizzy.
"You're clenching... keep going, baby. Use my cock. Get yourself off. Cum all over it."
You didn’t hold back. You rode him the way you needed, chasing your high, grinding and moaning and letting go. It didn’t take long. Your body locked up as your orgasm hit, your pussy squeezing him in waves while you screamed, head thrown back, completely undone. Mingi groaned with you, like your pleasure alone was driving him insane.
Your legs were useless now, limp from the intensity. You were still coming down when he started moving again—this time harder, faster, with no hesitation. All you could feel was pleasure.
"You're so hard... I can feel you. So deep..."
"Didn’t think you’d take cock this well, baby... Can I fuck you harder?"
"Yes... fuck me. Wanna feel you cum too."
For a second, you hated the condom, but it didn’t matter. Not when he started pounding into you like that. It was rougher, and you loved every second. Your body was sore but it felt too good to care. You heard his moans, his breath getting shakier as he got closer. He kissed you, bit your neck, and moaned against your lips when he finally came, filling the condom as his cock throbbed inside you.
God, that was insanely good.
You were caressing his back while he tried to catch his breath. You had just lost your virginity, and it felt so good you could barely believe it.
“So… good enough for your first time?” He slowly slid out of you, pulling off the condom and tying it up. “I’m really glad you chose me, gotta say.”
“It was amazing. Thank you… really.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I did you a favor, and as you can see…” He lifted the condom, still full. “I had a great time too. Huh… Did I hurt you?”
“Not at all. And… you know… is this a one-time thing? I’m sorry for asking that right now, it’s just…” You hesitated, suddenly aware of how exposed you were—and not just physically. “I… I don’t know. Forget it.”
“It doesn’t have to be. A one-time thing, I mean. If you want more…”
“I was just thinking that maybe next time you could… skip the condom, maybe?” Your voice dropped a little, more nervous now. “I was a virgin until now, and I take the pill. I just… really want to know how that would feel.”
“So… you’re asking me to creampie you?” He raised an eyebrow, smirking like the cocky bastard he was. “You know that feels like going to heaven, right?”
He looked so hot saying that, so confident, his body still glistening slightly from sweat. You couldn’t stop staring.
“I can do that, of course. Your pussy’s gonna look so pretty dripping with my cum…”
Your cheeks burned instantly, and you had to look away.
“Hm… feeling shy now? Bit too late for that.” He chuckled, tossing the condom aside and lying down beside you, his fingers lazily exploring your chest, your collarbone, your neck. “Ask me whatever you want. I’ll do it. I can be your first for a lot more things, you know.”
“That sounded like an invitation… want to keep me around?”
You turned to your side, facing him, still trying to process everything that just happened. Your legs were sore, your body still buzzing, and your brain felt like it had short-circuited somewhere halfway through.
Mingi looked over at you with that same cocky, satisfied smile, resting one arm under his head.
“I think I'll.”
A second later, he slid closer behind you, pressing his bare chest against your back and wrapping an arm lazily around your waist. You didn’t answer him, it wasn’t necessary. You just tangled your fingers with his and fell asleep.
Somehow, the crazy decision that led you to end up naked in his bed turned out to be the best one you’ve ever made.
“you're definitely the needier one in this relationship, you know that, right?”, chan says, leaning on the kitchen and watching you make your tea.
you glance at him over your shoulder and scoff, “you’re joking, right?”
chan’s giving you an amused, cocky smile now. “you can’t have already forgotten how you were literally drooling over my dick last night and begging me to fuck you dumb”
“then what about the other day when you came in your pants just from eating me out?”
chan’s ears turn red as he stares down into his coffee mug but he’s refusing to give up. “–that was just because you wore that pretty underwear i like… i just know you couldn’t live a day without my cock stuffing your needy pussy ~”
“you’re deluding yourself now.” you sigh in fake sympathy, shaking your head.
and that’s how your little game of who would give in first, started.
a week has passed since then and things have been going fine... up until now. you're lying on the sofa all comfy, and you know you shouldn't have, but as soon as one thirst trap of chan popped up in your feed–you couldn't help yourself. after going down a long spiral of thirst traps of him, you finally put your phone down and try to calm down.
chan’s still in the shower, unaware of the extreme mental struggle you're going through. you close your eyes in an attempt to sleep but all you can think of is chan; his smile, his body rolls, his smirking face, his dimples– everything is playing on a loop in your head.
you stand up, walk around the room, touch the table, stare at the ceiling and pour yourself a glass of water.
the sound of the shower next door stops and soon chan’s walking out of the bathroom in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. you avoid looking in his direction when he walks in, but you steal a glance when he’s turned away from you. his curly hair is damp and dripping droplets of water onto his neck that run down his back. his muscles flex slightly as he wipes his towel over the back of his shoulders.
you choke on your water in silence and desperately wish chan would just leave.
'wet' is an understatement for what’s happened between your thighs; you’re soaking like a bitch in heat seeing a dick for the first time.
chan, being his usual cuddly self, comes over and hugs you from behind.
“baby, you feel a little warm. are you okay?”
“mhm” you nod. but the way you shiver when he speaks against your head isn’t convincing. his arm brushes against your breast unintentionally and you moan softly.
“ahh, my babygirl’s feeling horny, is she?” he runs his hands over your thighs.
you give in and lean your head against his chest, “mm~ yes, chan, i can’t stand it anymore.”
he grabs your chin so your face is inches from his. your lips brush his and you whisper, “fuck me.”
a gentle smile spreads over face and his voice is almost condescending as he replies, “say please.”
but something inside you won’t let you say it– maybe it’s your silly pride. so instead you say, “make me, chan.”
he bites his lip and easily moves you so you’re bent over the counter. he presses up behind you, placing open-mouthed kisses to your neck as he pulls down your panties and rubs your clit, fast and rough– enough for your legs to give out, leaving you slumped over the counter, gasping. he pushes your thighs together, shoves his cock between them and begins thrusting hard– each time, the tip rubbing against your swollen clit.
and then he pulls away from you, pressing down on your back so you can’t move.
“sluts like you with no manners don’t get what they want, mmkay? so be a good girl for me and say, ‘please, chan, fuck me and fill me up with your cum’- while spreading that cute ass. i know you can do it, sweetheart.”
as you reach a hand back to spread your butt, exposing your dripping cunt, you mumble against the cool marble of the counter, “mm, fuck, please, chan… please fuck me”
“almost ~ you forgot the ‘fill me up with your cum’ part” he places a hand over your neck.
you do as you’re told and say, “chan, i can’t– just, please fuck me- fill me up– breed this pussy, please please plea-” but chan’s already thrusting into you, hard. the truth is, he’s been waiting for this just as much as you have; his breeding kink isn't helping either. he couldn’t stop now, even if you begged him to.
“you’re so fucking warm and, shit, so tight around me… perfect– taking me like this.” he’s rambling from how good it feels to finally be inside you after an entire week.
you whine and tremble as you feel yourself about to cum. you can tell chan’s close from how his breathing has gotten ragged and his thrusts are getting sloppier.
“gonna breed this pussy ‘m gon’ fuck a baby into you-” chan mutters as you both cum.
he lifts you up so you're sitting, facing him on top of the counter. he pushes your thighs apart and sweetly kisses around your cunt. “ahh, chan, you don't have to– ‘s too sensitive”
“i’ll be gentle; just need to clean you up”, he says before licking into your folds.
later, after you’re both cleaned up, chan can't help reminding you that he was right about your little game.
“i knew you were gonna give in first. so dependent on my cock, aren’t you~” he cooes before kissing you softly.
you pull back, all defensive, “like you can say much– you came so fast”
chan laughs, “says the person who begged me to breed her.”
“that was just to get you to put it in, you pervert… you made me wait forever.” you reply stubbornly.
“fine, fine… just, how about we never do this kind of challenge again– it's torture.”
“mmkay~” you say, secretly a little relieved, “and also, don’t make me beg like that again.”
chan whispers right into your ear as he walks past, “but i know you liked it~”
you squirm and roll your eyes, not wanting to accept the part of you that would gladly beg for chan on a daily basis.
‘say please’, you hear his voice in your head as you scoff, remembering his annoyingly smug face from before– but you know you'll get him back for it sometime soon.
Warning : breeding kink, p in v, oral (f.reveived), unprotected sex, crampie, Hyunjin is a little bit…obsessed ? Maybe I forgot something..
It was supposed to be a simple day. No schedule, no obligations. Just the two of them, snuggled together on the sofa, curtains drawn, the world left outside for a few hours. Hyunjin had his head resting on Yn's thighs, eyes half-closed as she gently stroked his hair, tracing lazy little circles on his skull.
He'd been waiting for this moment all week. He just wanted to rest, breathe a little, feel her fingers and hear her voice without having to think about what was waiting for him next.
But of course, reality never completely pauses. Yn's phone vibrated. Once. Twice. She sighed, Hyunjin grunted softly without moving her head, as if to say "forget it, it's not important."
But she looked at the screen. It was her sister. And she picked up.
A few sentences exchanged, little "yes", "ok", "I can come"... Then she hung up.
"My sister can't have her son babysat today," she said softly, sliding a hand over Hyunjin's cheek. "She asked me if I could take him for a while."
He didn't answer right away. Just a slight sigh, a glance at her, then a tired smile.
"Come on, let's go together."
A few hours later, the three of them were sitting in Yn's sister's living room. The boy had turned everything upside down - toys strewn about, cushions on the floor, half-done drawings on the coffee table - but Hyunjin hadn't said a word. He simply watched, a little to one side, while Yn laughed, knelt to do puzzles or lifted him in the air like a superheroine.
There was this natural tenderness in her every gesture, this patience, this warmth that made the room softer just by her presence.
As the boy's excitement began to subside, Yn sat down on the sofa, a blanket on her lap. The boy climbed right up against her, burying his face in her neck, little body shaking with tired sighs.
"Are you tired, sweetheart?" she murmured, kissing his hair. He nodded, his arms around her neck.
Hyunjin approached slowly, sat down beside them, and the scene hit him hard. Yn, sitting there, her gaze tender, her arms protective, her face serene... with this little human stuck to her as if it were his world.
He felt something tighten in his chest.
It wasn't just cute. It was visceral. He could already see her with their child. Their home. Their life together.
She looked up at him then, catching his gaze.
"Do you want to lie down for a bit too?" she asked softly.
He nodded, slid to the other side of her, and as he lay down, he couldn't help whispering:
"You're too beautiful like this... I think I'm going to fall even more in love with you if you keep this up."
She blushed slightly, smirking.
"Because of what?"
He put his hand on the little boy's head, then his on Yn's belly, almost as a reflex.
"Because of this. Because of you."
She had no time to reply. Hyunjin had already moved closer, resting his head close to her hip, as if he just wanted to be glued to her, even in the silence. He closed his eyes, a deep sigh leaving his lips.
She remained there, caressing the two heads resting against her - her nephew's, already asleep, and Hyunjin's, slowly slipping into that calm, soothed half-sleep. And even though she said nothing, her heart beat a little faster. Because she'd understood. And because she was thinking about it too.
By evening, they were finally home. The day had washed them away. Not a word too many, just looks, simple gestures. Hyunjin had spent most of the journey staring at the road, lost in thought. Not worried. Just... inhabited.
The room was bathed in subdued light. Yn was already settled on the bed, lying on her stomach with her phone in her hands. She scrolled softly, looking peaceful, a small comforter tucked against her chest like an unconscious reflex. Her hair cascaded over the pillow, and from time to time, she tapped the screen without paying too much attention.
Hyunjin came out of the bathroom in silence, a loose T-shirt on his back, his hair still a little damp. He stared at her for a moment, leaning against the doorframe. Then he gently broke the silence:
"Are you working tomorrow?"
She turned her head towards him, her face half-hidden by the comforter.
"Mh, yeah. Why?" she asked, her voice a little drawl, curious.
He didn't answer right away. He approached her slowly, climbed onto the bed and slid down to her. Then, without warning, he kissed her softly at the corner of her lips, his hand sliding down her back.
"Because in this case..." he murmured against her skin, "...I'll have to be quick."
She arched an eyebrow, a quiet laugh slipping between her lips.
"Have to make it quick for what?"
He leaned a little closer, his lips brushing her ear.
His voice dropped a tone, low, almost whispered:
"Put a baby in your belly."
She felt her breath catch for a second, her phone slipping gently from her hand.
She turned slowly onto her back, her eyes planted in his, torn between surprise, envy, and that intense warmth he knew how to ignite in her without even forcing.
"Hyunjin..."
But he was already kissing her again, this time more firmly, as if he'd been waiting all day for this. His hand sought hers, intertwining their fingers above her head.
And in the reassuring silence of the night, there was no tomorrow, no job, no doubt - just the two of them, and that burning idea he'd just planted in the air.
His lips lingered against hers, warm, slow, a kiss that said more than his words. Yn felt her heart beat faster, her fingers still knotted to his above her head, trapped between the gentleness of his gestures and the intensity of what he'd just said.
Hyunjin straightened up a little to look at her. His gaze shone, a mixture of desire, pure love and something deeper, almost visceral.
"You should get some sleep," he breathed, tracing her jaw line with his fingertips.
"You're literally telling me you want to put a baby in my belly and then you tell me to sleep?" she murmured with a nervous smile.
He laughed softly, his forehead coming to rest against hers.
"I'm telling you to sleep because otherwise I'm really not going to be able to hold myself back."
But he didn't move. He stayed there, against her, his body pressed to hers, his breathing mingling with hers. He kissed her cheek, slowly, then her neck, then her collarbone. Each kiss seemed to ask the question he was no longer saying aloud.
His hands slipped under the fabric of her T-shirt. He caressed her with all-consuming tenderness, as if learning every inch of her skin for the hundredth time.
"I've never wanted anything so badly," he breathed softly, almost like a secret.
Yn looked up at him, her free hand coming to rest against his cheek.
"Do you want it now?"
He closed his eyes for a moment, his jaw contracting slightly. He leaned in again, placed a kiss just at the hollow of her belly, where his hand then lingered, flat against her.
"I want you now. And if a baby comes with it... I'll be overjoyed."
He doesn't even give her time to respond as he continues to kiss her. The corners of her lips, her cheeks, her jaw, her neck, her breasts, her belly, then he reaches her panties.
He looks up at her, her face warm and her gaze burning with desire for him.
Then he breaks eye contact and slowly removes her panties, getting a direct view of her femininity.
"You're so wet, Love..." He lets out in a whisper. But Yn doesn't have time to reply, as Hyunjin's tongue is already running through her.
A moan leaves the barrier of her lip. "I will make you so fucking good tonight, babygirl" He says, putting a finger inside her and running his tongue all over her.
"Fuck...Hyune..." He doesn't respond-doesn't even slow down. He just moans into you, burying his face deeper, tongue flicking, lips sealing around your clit as he sucks with an obscene, wet sound.
"I will make you a mommy tonight. A good mommy, and when I will come home, I will see you with my child." Hyunjin's words send a shiver down Yn's spine, and she lets out a long moan as she runs her hand through Hyunjin's hair, which moans slightly at the contact. "Baby..I'm..oh my fuck..."
Hyunjin smiles against her, Yn's belly contracting and relaxing at the touch of Hyunjin's fingers and tongue. She murmurs totally incomprehensible words as she runs her hands through Hyunjin's hair. "You gonna cum babe ? Hm ? Yeah, come on my tongue, please, please."
And that's all it took for Yn to burst a ball of pleasure in her belly with a silent scream. She instinctively closed her thighs, trapping Hyunjin between them.
He already make you cum three time. And he seems to didn't done yet. He want is baby, he want your baby.
And each thrust goes deeper and deeper, pushing his sperm further and further in, he wants his baby in your belly tonight at all costs.
"Fuck" he lets out a long moan, blatantly slamming your ass against him. "You took me so well baby" you don't answer, your moans muffled by the pillow, you're almost crying from overstimulation.
Hyunjin is so proud of provoking this in you, he couldn't be less proud than to see this work on you.
At this very moment, the fact that you're both working the next day doesn't matter, all you want to do is turn off the climax.
"Fuck..gonna cum, again Jinnie!" he smiles, bringing his hands to your waist, and speeding up his movements. "Yeah? Again ? Cum all over my cock babe. My sweet cock only there for make you feel good. Only for you love of my life "
And it doesn't take much for Yn's walls to clench around is cock, a guttural moan leaving Hyunjin's lip barrier as he taps that spot of Yn again and again. And just a few seconds later, Yn's body trembles, and a long moan leaves the barrier of his lips as his groan carries him away.
Barely a moment later, Hyunjin is still cumming inside her, but doesn't stop, pushing his semen a little further out before coming to rest still inside her.
Gasps fill the room, Hyunjin slowly withdraws, eliciting a groan from Yn.
He sweeps his fingers over her folds, before pushing them inside her, and using and playing with his fingers inside her, pushing his semen even further out.
When he pulls his fingers out, they're all white with his essence.
"Wanna taste baby?" Yn sits up slowly, trembling slightly, then opens her mouth, sticking out her tongue. She doesn't feel Hyunjin's semen slowly trickling down her thigh, but she doesn't care, just moves closer to her man.
He runs his fingers over Yn's warm tongue and sucks them, aiming to catch all the white liquid. After a moment, he simply rests his head on her shoulders, breathing hard.
"Go in the bathroom. We working tomorrow..." he carries his beloved to the bathroom.
A few weeks had passed. Quickly, but not without leaving traces.
Yn had had this strange sensation in her body for a few days - as if something had changed without her really knowing what. Discrete nausea, persistent fatigue, and this constant feeling of being... inhabited.
She didn't say anything right away. She wanted to be sure. And that morning, as she watched the two little bars appear on the test, her heart stopped dead in her tracks.
Positive.
Not once. Not twice. Three times. She'd done three. All positive.
She'd struggled to breathe at first, staring at the results. Don't panic. No panic. But then, the only image that came to mind was him. Hyunjin. His smile. His hands on her belly that night. His words. "Put a baby in your belly."
So she'd called him. Without a second thought. Even though she knew he was in the middle of practice with the others, rehearsing, focused, in his own world.
He picked up on the third ring, out of breath, voice panting:
"Baby? Are you okay?"
She took a shaky breath. He heard immediately that her voice was different.
"Hyunjin... I didn't want to bother you but... I had to tell you."
A short silence.
"Tell me. What is it?"
She bit her lip, her heart on the edge of her lips. Then she dropped, like a soft bomb:
"The tests are positive."
A long silence.
For a moment she thought he wasn't breathing.
"Hyunjin?"
But when he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. Broken. Loaded.
"You mean... we're having a baby?"
"Yes."
A sound of hurried footsteps through the phone. Voices he ignored around him. Then:
"I don't care. I'm leaving. I'm coming. I can't stay here."
She heard the sound of a bag being grabbed, of a door slamming. He kept talking at the same time, without hanging up, as if he wanted to stay glued to her until he was physically there.
"You swear you're okay? Are you all right? Are you shaking? Do you want me to buy something? Wait- I'll take some flowers. No, I'm not going to waste time. I'm coming."
Yn, at her wits' end, burst out laughing softly through the tears.
"Hyunjin... breathe."
"Can't. You're pregnant. You're... you're pregnant with my child. Damn. Yn."
And at that moment, she heard him laugh too. A laugh of disbelief, pure joy, like a kid in front of his Christmas present.
My thoughts on how they treat atiny as littles is seonghwa is a caregiver, but he coos a lot at atiny, he babies atiny how one would if they were with a little. Hongjoong? Just is simply a gentle parent for atiny, but he also wants us to have that bf feel of him, if that makes sense. And yunho? That mf is just he looks out for atiny like a father would, but also still wants to be our boyfriend in a way. I can’t explain it in words, but they all coo and baby atiny, and San calls any woman princess. He won’t call anyone ‘noona’ or whatever the fuck its called. Its always princess, especially younger women. And with San always gloating about wanting a daughter, it kinda fits in a way. But San is more of a sir than a daddy. Seonghwa is a daddy, although he may not exactly be into age play or anything like that, but he’s definitely into treating his partner as if they’re a child, in a wholesome way. Same with Hongjoong, completely wholesome. But yunho? That man will get dirty with it, but also be on the wholesale side as well. Like outside of sex, they’d treat their partner as if they’re children (cooing, coddling, ect) but for the sex part, i don’t think they’d fully be into that. But yunho does have a darker side than any of the other members.
I should be ashamed for how fucked up this fic is- but I am not.
🖤 This is a dark fic. Though the dynamics are soft, it does explore emotional submission, control through care, and healing through obsession. Please consume responsibly.
If you continue to read, you have heeded my warnings and I am not responsible for your well-being.
Also, it's not essential to read Chapter 1- Hunted but I'd recommend it for a more immersive experience.
It had been ninety days since Yunho claimed you.
And ninety days since you’d truly smiled.
You weren’t locked in. Not really.
The windows were clear. The front door was untouched.
But you didn’t leave.
You couldn’t.
Because Yunho didn’t trap you with chains, he wrapped you in care.
Fed you. Brushed your hair. Warmed your bath. Held you through your nightmares.
And when you were good, when you ate every bite, when you let him rub lotion into your thighs, when you said thank you and curled into a fragile ball against him.
He kissed you so sweet it made your eyes burn.
But you weren’t yourself.
He noticed it in the way you blinked slower. Walked softer.
How your laugh, the one he’d stalked for months, was nowhere to be found.
Yunho wasn’t angry.
He was devastated.
You sat curled up in the hoodie he’d given you—his favourite one, the black one that smelled like musk and safety—staring blankly at the wall.
He came in quietly, tray in hand.
Cut-up fruit. A soft spoon. A warm mug of tea.
Little strawberries carved into heart shapes. You hadn’t asked for them. You didn’t have to.
"My good girl hasn’t eaten today," he said softly, kneeling at your feet.
You didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at him.
Yunho’s hand curled around your ankle. Gentle. Grounding.
"Baby…" he murmured, his voice thick. “You haven’t smiled in days.”
Your eyes burned, but you stayed silent.
Yunho set the tray aside, then cupped your face with both hands, his thumbs stroking beneath your eyes.
Those giant hands of his, the ones that showed you praise, could be so soft, so attentive.
The same ones that could grip, tighten and bend you to whatever will Yunho demanded from you.
“Where did you go, princess?” he whispered, the pressure of his hands gripping the sides of your face, onyx eyes filled with an authoritative concern.
“You’re right here, but you’re not here.”
You trembled.
"I’ll bring you back," he said, voice breaking. “I’ll brush your hair, feed you with my hands, hold you every night. I’ll kiss and fuck you a thousand times until your soul remembers how to breathe again.”
He kissed your forehead. Your cheek. Your jaw.
Then he stood, picking you up bridal style- not even a hitch of breath or a hair out of place.
“Come on, baby. Let me bring you back to life”
He sat you on the edge of the bed and undressed you slowly.
Not like a man tearing into a lover—but like a caretaker unwrapping something delicate. Something breakable.
"Lift your arms for me," he said softly. You obeyed. Hoodie off.
Your skin is prickled with cold. But he was already there—kneeling again, wiping you down with a warm towel, rubbing rose oil into your thighs, down your calves, across your belly.
"You’re so soft," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your knee. “So perfect. You don’t need to hide.”
When you whimpered, he smiled gently. “That’s it. That’s the sound I’ve missed.”
"Your body remembers me," he whispered. "Even when your mind tries to hide."
And then he leaned in.
He kissed your inner thigh—once, twice. A third kiss closer to your core, letting his breath fan over your pussy like a prayer.
Your legs instinctively parted.
"That’s it," he whispered. “Good girl.”
He knelt between your legs, settled there like a man who belonged. One arm curled under your thigh, the other wrapped around your hip—anchoring you. His tongue flicked out once, tasting the slick gathering between your folds.
Yunho moaned.
Like it hurt to go without you for this long.
"God, baby..." he breathed, mouth pressing open kisses to your cunt. “You taste like relief. Like everything I’ve been aching for.”
He sucked your clit between his lips slowly—like he wasn’t just worshipping it, but claiming it. The tip of his tongue teased circles, then firm strokes, then messy, hungry licks that made your breath catch in your throat.
You grabbed the sheets behind you. He noticed.
"That’s it. Grip the bed for me," he rasped. “Let me feel how much you missed this.”
His tongue fucked into you like a promise. Like a rebuild. Your thighs trembled against his shoulders as his fingers joined in—two thick digits pressing in slowly, curling upward like he knew exactly where to touch you to break the silence in your soul.
“You’re opening up so well,” he groaned, mouth slick with you. “So fucking perfect. Let me get you ready—want you warm and messy when I fuck you raw.”
Your head tipped back. You moaned—finally.
And Yunho smiled against your cunt.
He kept licking until you were crying again, hands tangled in his hair, hips rolling against his face like your body had reawakened. He didn’t let up until you came with a sob, thighs clenching around his head, cunt pulsing on his fingers.
He didn’t stop.
He wanted you soaked. He needed you needy.
And when he finally pulled away, your inner thighs glistened, your chest was heaving, and Yunho was breathing heavy—feral, but composed.
Later, he manoeuvred you so you were face down, chest to the mattress, your arms tucked beneath a pillow, your body bare and waiting.
He was behind you, lying on top of you, warm, naked and in a prone position, his thick cock resting against your skin- firm, hard, wanting.
And in his hand?
Your journal.
The one he’d found.
The one you used to write in when you still laughed.
He started to read.
“Today I danced barefoot in the kitchen while Yunho made aburasoba. He laughed and called me pretty…”
Your breath caught.
“…and I believed it.”
A tear slipped down your cheek. Yunho saw it.
He pushed your hips up slightly, reached between your thighs and stroked your clit softly, lovingly.
"You are pretty," he whispered. "Even when you cry. Even when you’re lost."
He pulled his hand away, bracing over you on his arms, knees bent on the mattress, placing kisses on your spine as he lines his cock up behind you, dragging the thick head through your folds—soaking wet from nothing but his voice and his care.
“You wrote, ‘I want to be the girl he thinks I am.’”
He pushed in slowly—inch by inch, until you were gasping into the sheets.
"You are," he growled, beginning to thrust. “You just need me to fuck the numbness out of you. Stroke by stroke. Praise by praise.”
Each thrust was deep, unhurried, designed to rewire your brain.
“You’re doing so good,” he whispered. “Letting me love you like this. Taking every inch. Letting me fill you so you don’t have to feel empty anymore.”
He dropped the journal out of his grasp, running his free hand through your hair, down your shoulders, your waist and hips before sliding it under your body, finding your clit, rubbing it in slow but firm circles.
"You're my sweet princess, aren't you?"
"Yes, Yunho," you choked.
"And you know you belong here, don’t you?"
"Yes"
"And you know I would burn the world before I let you fade again."
You shattered around him, sobbing into the pillow as your body trembled and your cunt fluttered around his cock.
He didn’t stop.
Not until you moaned again. Not until your voice cracked saying thank you. Not until your hands gripped the sheets like you were clawing your way back into yourself.
When he came, he did it with your name on his lips and your body clutched to his chest like scripture.
He'd allow himself a few moments to lie over you, his hands rubbing your sides, petting your hair, whispering words of sweet praise before getting up, cleaning the sweat and his cum off of you with careful precision before lying in bed again, his briefs the only barrier between you two.
"You don’t have to be her again all at once," he murmured. “But I will help you. I’ll feed you, fuck you, love you… until the light comes back.”
You fell asleep with your cheek against his chest.
He held you like a child.
And smiled, because you’d whimpered in your sleep—
a tiny, happy sound.
The first one in ninety days.
I could honestly just every month write another warped piece of dark fic to add to the Haunting Adeline AU series.
Hold on to April where I will be posting 2 Hyunjin related works.
Summary: Your shitty boyfriend has cheated on you. Again. You go to your childhood best friend Minho for comfort and end up getting more than you planned for.
Cw/tw: loads of pet names (baby, sweetheart, etc.), unprotected piv sex, oral (f receiving), a little anal fingering as a treat (f receiving), pleasure dom/service top!Minho, odaxelagnia (biting kink – f receiving), squirting
Wc: 6.1k
A/N: This one starts the same as the threesome version. I liked the way it started and didn’t want to change it. You can find the threesome version here. Also, this is somehow the longest one (so far).
This fic is part of a series of unconnected best friends to lovers fics, the others of which can be found on my master list.
You rushed through the front door of Minho’s apartment, tears streaming down your face, hoping your best friend was home.
“Y/N?” Jisung came around the corner, from the kitchen into the living room. “Y/nnie, what happened?” He hurried to you, wrapping his arms around you.
“Sungie,” you muttered, relieved that someone was home, even though it wasn’t Minho. It didn’t matter though, you were nearly as close to Jisung as you were to Min. “It’s Haneul,” you said through tears. “He’s cheating on me.”
“Oh sweetheart. Come on.” Gently, he led you to Minho’s room, knowing that was who you’d come for.
You followed Jisung to his bed and curled against him when he pulled you down onto it, letting the tears come and soak his shirt.
Some time later, after your tears had started to run dry and the crying was mostly internal now, you heard the bedroom door open. “Kitten? What happened?” Minho nearly threw himself on the bed behind you, wrapping his arms around you. The familiar nickname, one he’d given you when you’d run over to his house in the rain and he’d said you looked like a half-drowned kitten, brought comfort the same way his presence did.
“Haneul cheated on her,” Jisung explained quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before getting up and letting your mutual best friend take his spot.
“That asshole! Want me to call Chan and Changbin, sweetheart? We’ll go straighten him out.” The door closed softly behind Jisung.
“It’s okay, Min. I’m fine. Besides, it’s not like it’s the first time.”
He was silent for a moment, staring down at you. “What do you mean?” Minho asked, voice low and dangerous sounding. Or, it would have been if you didn’t know your best friend well enough to know that he wasn’t going to leave you here while he went to hunt down your ex.
“Haneul…,” you sighed. “He’s never been loyal to me. He’s had at least two other girlfriends and I don’t even know how many hook-ups since we started dating. I just never told you.” You shrugged. You knew he was going to question you, but you hoped it wouldn’t be too bad if you tried to downplay how much the other affairs hurt you.
“What made this time different?” he asked, still in that same low tone.
“He cheated in my bed. Not his own, hers, or some hotel room. He brought some woman to my home and my bed.”
“Why’d you stay with him so long?” Minho burst out. “Kitten, you are so much better than that. You deserve so much better! Why put up with some asshole who doesn’t even respect you, let alone love you? Why – I don’t understand why you’d put yourself through that kind of cruelty.”
“He looks like you! Okay?!” You burst out, unable to hold it in under his disappointment. “Figured it was the closest I’d ever get to having you, so I –” Your eyes widened as you realized what you were saying and you struggled to sit up and get out of his bed. “Shit. Lemme go. Minho! Damn it, let me go!”
“Never,” he’d sat up and tugged you back against his chest. You struggled against him for a moment and he let you, not relaxing his hold on you enough to let you get free, but not holding you tightly enough to hurt or cause you to panic. “Do you know why I don’t date?” He asked after a few moments, when you finally calmed down.
“Because you’re an idol.”
“Wrong. That hasn’t stopped Chan, Hyunjin – actually, it’s never stopped any of the other members. Not since our ban expired, at least. You know that, you’ve met their significant others. No. The reason I don’t date is you. No matter how great anyone else might be, they aren’t you.”
You twisted in his arms to turn to look at him, brows furrowed in confusion but a spark of hope lighting in your chest. “What?”
“They aren’t you, Kitten,” he lifted a hand to gently stroke a fingertip down the side of your face before settling that hand on your waist. “No other person has been able to compare to your perfection. To the way you make me laugh, the way my day gets better just by hearing your voice. This thing inside me that constantly wants to shower you with little gifts just to see you smile but also desperately wants to knock you up so the whole world knows you’re mine.” You felt your body twitch with a mixture of shock and arousal. “Sorry,” he smiled unrepentantly. “Figured you’d want to know all of it.”
Your face must’ve given something away as his eyes darkened and voice dipped to a sultry tone that had a shiver of lust traveling down your spine. “Do you, Y/N? Do you want to know that after every time you leave our movie nights or hang outs I have to crawl into my bed or shower and get myself off? That I have to bite my hand or pillow to stop from moaning your name too loud? Do you wanna know that I got hard in the store the other day just from smelling the shampoo you use? That I’m hard right now just because of how close you are and desperately hoping you’ll let me have and keep you?”
Your breath caught in shock. You weren’t sure why you were shocked by that last sentence with everything else he’d admitted to already. Maybe it was the shift from sweet to horny in so short a span finally catching up to you. You couldn’t find your voice for a moment. Instead of responding, you ran the tip of your finger down his nose, then gently over his upper lip, watching them part and feeling the puff of air as he sighed against your fingertip. You shifted around, moving so you were straddling his lap and settled on his thighs. You slipped your arms over his shoulders and just quietly watched him for a few seconds.
Finally, softly, you responded to his last question. “I’ve been yours for so long, I don’t know how to be anything else.” His eyes flashed, hand coming up to tangle in your hair, tugging you toward him and claiming your lips in a possessive kiss. The hand not in your hair squeezed your hip as he tilted your head to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth in a way that felt like he was trying to claim you. You moaned low in your throat, the sound vibrating in your chest and causing Minho’s lips to tip up just slightly into a smile.
The hand on your hip slid around to your lower back and pushed you forward until you were pressed against his chest. You settled on his lap, right on the bulge in his jeans. You lips parted on a silent moan, head tipping back as your ground down slightly on him. Minho did not stop kissing you, his lips travelled across your jaw, and down your neck, licking and nipping as he went. At the same time, his hand shifted back to your hip, tightening his grip and helping you roll your hips over his hard cock.
“Tell me to stop, Kitten, and I will,” he muttered against your neck. “We can take this slow, I know you’re vulnerable now. But if –”
“Not vulnerable,” you interrupted. “Don’t you dare stop. ‘M so ready to be completely yours, Min.” You ground down on him with a little more force to emphasize your point, smiling at the groan that elicited from him.
He claimed your lips again, nipping gently on your bottom lip. The hand on your hip slid up, under the hem of your shirt, inching higher until his palm rested on the side of your ribs, thumb just brushing the underside of your bra. He pulled back a little to look at you.
“Ok?” he asked, lifting his forearm enough to indicate he was asking if it was okay to take off your shirt. You nodded and he had your shirt tugged up and tossed somewhere in his room in the blink of an eye. He settled both hands on your hips, helping guide your movements as you continued rolling your clothed core over the bulge in his pants.
The sensation overwhelming in a way you hadn’t really expected it would be, you tipped your head back, light pants coming with every roll of your hips. Because you weren’t looking at him, you didn’t see the way Minho was looking at you – the way he always looked at you when you weren’t looking at him – like a devoted follower finally seeing his goddess for the first time.
By the time you looked back down at him, the look was gone, replaced with one that was all heat and desire. You weren’t sure if it was all in your head or not, but it suddenly felt too hard to breathe with your bra on. You wrapped a hand behind yourself, undoing and then tugging the offending garment off.
“God,” Minho groaned, hands tightening on your hips briefly.
“Yeah?” you smiled at him.
“Yeah,” he confirmed, leaning in to capture one nipple between his lips, sucking the nub into his mouth.
Your mouth dropped open on a stifled moan even as your hands came up to clutch his shoulders. You were mildly disappointed to remember he still had his shirt on. Impatiently, you tugged at the offending fabric until, with a little pop sound, Minho released your nipple to lean back and take off his shirt. Your hands smoothed over the hard planes of his chest and abs and he let you, a soft almost-smile playing on his lips.
“What?” you asked, catching the look on his face.
“Nothing. Just… mm, finally have you in my lap, half naked. A man’s allowed to be happy when he’s living out a dream.”
“A dream, huh?”
“Definitely. Dreamed of you like this more often than I’ll admit.” You wanted to laugh, chuckle at the absolute absurdity of your gorgeous best friend dreaming of you at all, but the seriousness in his tone and eyes stopped you.
You leaned in, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. His tongue swiped over your bottom lip, as his hands moved your hips, rolling them against himself again. You picked up the pace he set, rolling your clothed core against his clothed cock, as his hands smoothed up your sides, coming up to cup your boobs. He fondled the flesh he held, pinching and rolling both nipples between his fingers, as his lips trailed across your jaw and down the side of your neck. He alternated open mouthed kisses and licks against both sides of your neck, lips continuing further down over your chest.
You leaned back, clutching his shoulders to keep yourself somewhat upright, as he licked over one nipple, sucking it into his mouth, then switched sides. You pressed your lips together, suppressing the whine that wanted to come out at his actions, even as your ground your hips harder against him.
Very suddenly, he shifted, tossing you off his lap and back onto his bed. “I am not coming in my pants like some teenager,” he huffed out.
You laughed, scrambling to get your jeans and panties down your legs as he did the same. He tossed all your combined articles of clothes off his bed, then slowly smoothed his hands up your legs. He shifted himself around, kneeling between your knees as he spread your legs wide.
He looked down at you, a light smile gracing his lips. “You’re gorgeous, Kitten,” he said softly, fingers trailing lightly up one thigh. Very quickly, you found yourself held slightly in the air. Minho had slid his shoulders under your thighs, hands under your ass, and lifted your pussy to his mouth. He pressed a chaste kiss against first your clit then your wet folds, before running his tongue up your slit. He groaned against you, dipping his tongue between your folds, lapping at your pussy.
“Taste so good, baby,” he muttered, singularly focused on tasting as much of you as possible, tongue dipping in to lap at your walls, then flicking over your clit, before he pressed his tongue as deeply into your cunt as he could.
Your moans were muffled by your hand pressed tightly over your mouth, panting breaths coming out through your nose, even as you tried to roll your hips against his mouth. Of course, with the way he had you held, you didn’t get much purchase to roll your hips the way you wanted to.
Minho glanced at you face and pulled away from your pussy when he noticed your hand over your mouth. Shifting his head a little, he bit, not very gently, into the meat of your thigh. The squeal this pulled from you was barely heard behind your hand. “Is this why I can’t hear you making any noise, Kitten? Are you hiding your noises from me?”
“Not… hiding,” you huffed out, moving your hand and trying to catch your breath while talking. “I know… guys don’t –”
“If you finish that by saying guys don’t like when you moan or whine or anything, I’m going to leave and hunt down Haneul right now,” he cut you off. Wisely, you stayed quiet, recognizing that he was actually serious. He stared down at you for a moment. “Hands on my headboard, baby, and keep them there. I want to hear every single sound that comes out of your pretty mouth.” He leaned forward, bending you nearly in half and pressed a quick, firm kiss to your lips. “And if I ask you a question, I want words, baby. Understood?”
“Okay,” you nodded, lifting your hands and pressing them to the fabric of his headboard.
He looked at you for a moment more, head cocked to the side, before adding, “And if you want something from me – ask. For. It. Do not shift your hips and hope I’ll understand. Tell me you want me to go harder or softer or that you want me to play with your clit or your tits. I want to hear you.”
You stared back up at him in silence for a few seconds. “Right now, I want your mouth back on my pussy,” you wiggled your hips for emphasis.
“Good girl,” he praised, sending a shiver down your spine, before diving back into your cunt, but keeping his gaze on your face. You bit your bottom lip, automatically stifling your moan as he pressed his tongue flat against your clit. He twisted his head and bit your other thigh. “I want to hear you, I said.”
“Habit,” you huffed out.
He pressed soft, soothing kisses against both bite marks, kitten licking over the red marks that would likely bruise, until he heard you whine. He smiled against your inner thigh and shifted to suck a hickey higher up on your thigh, pleased with the way you gasped then moaned at the sensation. Only then did he go back to your cunt, running his tongue up and between your folds.
This pattern repeated twice more. You would moan or whine at Minho’s actions – whether that was fucking his tongue into your hole or wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking it into his mouth – then you’d get self conscious and press your lips together or turn your head to bury your face against your own arm. Each time, Minho stopped, twisting to bite your thigh.
The fourth time he bit you, you moaned loudly, legs clenching around his head. He chuckled, looking up at you. “Do you like being bitten, Kitten?”
“Apparently,” you huffed.
He leaned up over you, once again nearly folding you in half. “Let me make you cum on my tongue baby and we’ll see if you like bites in other places before I fuck you, yeah?”
“Yeah. Yes,” you nodded frantically, belly clenching at the thought of his teeth in your neck or belly.
He chuckled low in his throat. “That means no hiding your sounds, remember. I want to hear every moan, whine, or whimper, sweetheart.”
“Okay. I’ll try.”
His gaze softened slightly and he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You can do better than try, love. I know you can.” His tone sounded both encouraging and challenging. He pressed a few sporadic kisses to your chest and belly, before licking over your cunt, from your entrance to your clit.
Your nails dug into the fabric of his headboard when he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking it into his mouth and batting it around with his tongue. You poked your own tongue into your cheek, between your teeth, hoping it would help you keep your mouth open so he wouldn’t stop again.
You flushed as your moans got louder and more frequent, a little embarrassed, despite Minho saying he wanted to hear you. Then you looked down at him to see his gaze locked on your face, eyes sparkling with excitement. Your cunt clenched around nothing as you realized he genuinely was enjoying – maybe even getting off to – the sounds you made. You’d always been made to feel embarrassed by showing or voicing your pleasure, and here was this gorgeous man who seemingly wanted little more than to make you make those sounds.
The realization had you moaning, loud and long, back arching toward him as much as you were able. One hand flew from the headboard, burying your fingers in his hair and pushing his face closer to you. You couldn’t be sure, but you thought you felt him smile against you as he lapped at your sopping pussy.
He fucked his tongue into your cunt, licking along your walls as deep as he could get. Then switched to broad licks up and between your pussy lips, flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit when he reached it. He sucked the little bud into his mouth, tongue pressed flat against it. All the while, you watched him watching you, breathy moans and whines falling more frequently from your mouth.
“Min,” you whined, clutching tightly to his hair. “Close.” He hummed against you, the vibrations shooting straight through your cunt and adding to the tightening coil in your belly. “Oh god.” His name fell like a litany from your lips as the coil tightened further then finally snapped, your head falling back to press harder into the pillow under you as you tightened your grip on his hair and held him tightly against you.
He kept his tongue against your clit, not really licking, just sort of flexing the muscle against your nerves to help you through the after shocks of your orgasm.
He slid your legs off his shoulders, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs as you panted, coming down from your high. After a moment, your breathing started to return to normal but you also started to squirm a bit, remembering what he’d promised to do. Just as you opened your mouth to ask, he shifted further down the bed, moving to be between your feet.
Slowly, gently, he teased his fingers up both calves, starting at your ankles. You weren’t sure what he was doing, but the action was soothing and you were curious, so you stayed quiet as you watched him. You sighed softly with pleasure as his fingertips skated across the backs of your knees before your breath caught at the same light touch just above your knee on the top of your thigh. With a slight smile, he leaned down, scraping his teeth over the same spot, then biting down when you whimpered. And then you understood exactly what the light touches were for – he was looking for your sensitive areas.
Each new spot he found pulled some reaction from you – whether a moan, whimper, or even a squeal – and each of your reactions seemed to please and excite him more.
He scraped his teeth over the top of your hip, biting down then sucking a bruise into the same spot. He found another just above your belly button and at the bottom of your rib cage on both sides. A quick nip to the underside of each breast pulled a breathy squeal from your lips. He paused his biting exploration for just a moment – sucking each nipple into his mouth until it was taut.
Then he moved on to your arms. Your palms curled up against his fingers, the sensation slightly ticklish, but gasped at his light touch on the inside of your wrists. He nipped at your wrists, the same way he had at the underside of your tits. Then bit harder just below the crease of your elbow. Ticklish, you tried to squirm away from his touch the higher up your arms he went.
Already knowing your neck and shoulders were sensitive, he forewent the light touch and just started pressing kisses to the tip of one shoulder, biting into your flesh where your neck and shoulder met and sucking a hickey into the side of your neck. He repeated his actions down the other side of your neck and to the tip of the other shoulder.
When he finally pulled back to look down at you, you were a panting mess under him – eyes glassy and dangling on the precipice of another orgasm.
“So close. Min,” you whined out, struggling to find the words to tell him you were close to cumming and just needed his fingers on your clit.
He seemed to understand you were struggling though and asked, “Where, baby?”
“Clit. Please.” With a very self-satisfied smiled, he ran his two fingers through your soaked folds, gathering up your slick, before pressing those fingers to your clit and rubbing in firm circles. “Oh god.” You moaned out, one hand grasping at the blanket under you the other clutching at his shoulder as you shuddered through another climax.
“So,” he said, fingers still working you through your aftershocks. “Turns out you really like to be bitten, huh? I think we’ll save your back for another day though. What do you think?”
“Yeah, that,” you sighed lightly as his fingers finally stopped moving, “sounds good. God, Minho.”
He just smiled down at you like the proverbial cat that got the canary, eyes tracing over every bite mark he’d left on you. “You look good covered in my marks.” He shifted to practically lay on top of you, keeping himself propped slightly up on one hand as he leaned in to capture your lips in a possessive kiss. Never had you felt more wanted than in that moment when – even after making you cum twice – he still wanted more of you.
Then you realized not only had he not cum yet – you hadn’t even touched him since he’d tossed you onto his bed. “Min,” you pulled away from his lips. “’M sorry.”
“What for baby?” He looked bewildered.
“You. You’ve done so much already for me and I haven’t –”
“Ah,” he cut you off, understanding flooding his gaze. He pressed a soft, reassuring kiss to your lips. “You don’t need to worry about me. Don’t get me wrong, I would love to feel your mouth and hands all over me. And we’ll absolutely get to that another day. But today is all about you. Most times will be, Kitten. I like giving more than receiving, okay? I would much prefer to have you gasping and moaning under me than anything else.”
You looked curiously up at him. You knew, of course, that Minho genuinely liked to take care of the people he cared about, but you hadn’t considered that it would translate this way into his sex life. “And if I ask you to fuck my mouth?” you asked bluntly, partly to see his reaction but also because you did enjoy giving blowjobs to the right partner.
He groaned, burying his face briefly against your neck. “Definitely gonna explore that later. Would you really let me…?”
“Oh yeah,” you nodded, face flushing as you continued. “I like the feeling of a cock on my tongue, stretching my jaw.”
He nipped at the back of your jawline, just below your ear. “You might be the death of me, sweetheart,” he said softly, lips against your skin. You threaded the fingers of one hand into his hair, gripping gently as he kissed along your jaw, back to your lips. He pressed a kiss to your lips, one that was over far too soon for your liking, nipping your bottom lip as he pulled away. He leaned over to his nightstand, sliding open the drawer and rummaging around for a few seconds before straightening up with a recognizable foil packet between his fingers.
“Do we have to?” You asked, when he looked back over at you. “Not sex, I mean,” you reassured him quickly. “Absolutely need you to fuck me. But do we have to use a condom? I have my implant,” you tapped the spot on your upper arm, “and I really wanna feel you in me. Please?”
He groaned, dropping down against you so his face was buried between your tits. “No condoms ever, if that’s what you want, my love,” he said, words muffled slightly against your chest.
You felt your face and chest pleasantly heat up at him calling you ‘my love’. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him against you, just taking a moment to bask in him. After that moment, you wiggled your hips under him, not impatient exactly, but also not entirely patient either. “Min.”
“Mm, yep. Absolutely. Needed to get control of myself,” he said with a little smile, lifting his head and looking up at you. “It’s like you’re trying to find things to say to kill me with.”
You grinned at the slightly expectant look in his eyes – like he was ready for you to say something filthy to try to get another reaction out of him. Instead you went a different direction. You brought your hands up to cup his face, bending slightly uncomfortably so you could press a soft kiss to his lips and whisper, “I love you, Minho.”
“Oh god,” he groaned, pushing you to lay back against his pillows as he gripped both of your thighs, hooking your legs over his hips. With a single, smooth roll of his hips, he sheathed his cock inside you in one motion, pulling matching groans from both of you. “I love you too,” he said, between soft kisses against your neck and cheeks, giving you a chance to adjust to the stretch and him a chance to regain control of himself again.
“Min,” you whined after a moment, rolling your hips. “Move, baby.”
With another kiss pressed to your jaw, he readjusted himself, sitting up on his knees and hooking his arms under your knees. Your hands flailed, finally gripping his blanket as he started steadily thrusting into you, quickly building up speed until his hips were snapping into yours. For a moment, you weren’t aware you were making any noise, your jaw hanging open, until you heard the breathy little moans with every thrust of his hips.
Then he adjusted, bringing your knees to his shoulders and leaning over you, folding you in half.
“Oh god,” you moaned out, hands leaving his blanket to grip his shoulder and opposite bicep.
“Look at you, my baby,” Minho looked down at you with a look that seemed like pride, but you were too caught up in your own pleasure to be sure. “You take me so well, like this cunt was made for me. Pussy’s so wet and warm. Can you hear how wet you are, baby?”
“Uh-huh,” you groaned out, listening to the slick sounds of Minho fucking into you.
“Gonna make you cum on my cock, sweetheart. Will you do that for me? Cum on my cock so I can feel your cunt squeeze me? Hm?”
You struggled to find an answer, your building orgasm and constant moans making words difficult. “Ye… yeah.”
“Good girl, remembering your words.” His praise sent a bolt of lust through you, ratcheting your orgasm closer. He leaned closer, pressing kisses to your bottom lip, your jaw, your cheeks, but never fully covering your mouth. The coil in your belly tightened further and you could feel Minho smile against you. “Getting closer, huh baby? I can feel you clenching around me. Gonna fall apart for me, sweet girl?” He slammed into you, tip of his cock perfectly bumping your cervix.
“Min! Oh, GOD!” You shouted, back arching as your orgasm crashed through you. Minho’s thrusts slowed as he kept fucking you through your aftershocks, relaxing back on his knees and bringing your legs down to a more comfortable position. He firmly massaged your upper thighs as he kept rolling his hips into you as you came down from your high. “Oh god,” you repeated, softly and in awe.
He smiled down at you. “Still doing good, sweetheart? Keep going?”
“Please keep going.” Not too quickly, he pulled out of you. “No,” you whined.
He chuckled. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere. Just gonna move you.” You helped him rearrange you as much as you could, your limbs feeling a bit like jello. He flipped you onto your front, pulling your hips up until you were on your knees, head and chest relaxed against his pillows. He knelt behind you, your thighs pressed together, and his spread wide. He slid back into you with a low groan, bottoming out in a single motion again. “God. Feel so tight like this baby.”
You whined, rocking back against him. “Feel so good.”
Minho didn’t give you much time to adjust, pulling almost all the way out of you then snapping his hips forward. He set a hard, punishing pace, the room filling with the sounds of your squelching pussy, skin slapping against skin, and every little ah he pushed out of you with each thrust. His hands gripped your hips tight, pulling you back against him with each thrust, his fingers digging in hard enough that you felt you might have bruises. You hoped you would, adding them to the various teeth marks riddling your body.
Unexpectedly, he pulled out of you, just to bury a single finger in your cunt, pumping that digit into a couple times, then pushing his cock back into you before you could find your voice to complain. His hips were still as he pressed his slick-wet finger steadily into your ass. You groaned, cheek pressing deeper into the pillow under you. You heard a breathy chuckle from him as your cunt squeezed him hard.
“Oh, Kitten. Have none of your loser boyfriends ever played back here?”
“No,” you whined, shaking your head and pressing back against him.
“Does it feel good?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Don’t worry, baby,” he rubbed his other hand soothingly against your hip. “I won’t neglect any of you holes.” You whined in response, a high pitched sound you’d never heard yourself make before. He chuckled again, leaning over you and pressing a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the back of your shoulder.
Then he sat back up and rolled his hips, building back up to the pace he’d been at before, but keeping to a slower pace with the single finger he thrust in and out of your ass. You felt so good, your mind going hazy around the edges.
“Hm,” Minho almost sounded thoughtful, if not for the breathless tone in his voice. “We should probably get you some toys, Kitten. Something to keep this cute pussy full while I fuck your ass. Or a cute plug for your ass while I fuck your cunt. Just to make sure you’re full no matter which hole I’m in. Would you like that, love? Go shopping at the sex toy store with me?” You whimpered, clenching around him. “I need words, Kitten,” he reminded you.
You opened and closed your mouth a couple times, before finally finding your voice again. “Please.”
You could hear the smile in his voice. “Aw, is my baby a little cock-drunk?”
“Ye –” your voice cut off with a guttural sound on a particularly, intentionally, hard thrust from Minho’s hips.
That smug tone that you both loved and loathed was thick in his voice as he said, “A little too far gone to talk, poor baby girl. Feeling too good, huh? That’s okay, sweet girl. I’ll take care of you.” The hand on your hip started to slide forward. “Press back against me, baby. Yeah, just like that.” You dug your knees into the mattress below you, pressing your ass back against his abs. He reached around to your front, fingers quickly finding your clit.
The first touch of his fingers against that bundle of nerves had you tightly clenching around his cock and pulling another breathless laugh from him. He flicked his fingers over your clit in time with the finger thrusting into your ass. You didn’t have the brain power to wonder how the hell he was able to do everything he was doing – you were too far gone. Your brain felt hazy and you were therefore surprised, not just by your orgasm, but by the fluid that gushed out of you, around Minho’s cock, as you came, your vision going white.
You knew you lost it for a minute, you were pretty sure you may have actually passed out for a few seconds. Because the next thing you knew, you were collapsed on the bed, Minho beside you. You could feel his cum inside you, but you didn’t remember him coming.
You panted, working to catch your breath and to bring your mind back between your ears where it belonged. Distantly, you became aware that Minho was holding your hand, the one closest to him, while running the fingers of his other hand gently up and down your spine. The soft touches were helping you to ground yourself again so you made no attempt to move away from his hands. Not that you could have or even wanted to.
Finally, your breathing returned to normal and you felt more like yourself again. You twisted, turning on your side to face him. “Back with me, Kitten?” he asked, a happy smile dancing in his eyes.
You took a moment to respond, then said, “I’ve never done that before.”
“Done what?” Minho asked, smug tone light in his voice, figuring what your answer had to be. “Cum that many times?”
“No. Well, yeah. But I meant squirting. I’ve never done that.”
He popped up, propping himself on his elbow so he could look down at you. “Seriously?” he asked, the tone getting more prominent as a matching smug smile spread over his lips.
“Mm-hm,” you nodded.
“Oh, baby, you are gonna be so much fun for me.” Grin still splitting his face, he leaned down and peppered light kisses over your cheeks, forehead, and nose, before pressing a light kiss against your lips. “Come on, let’s get you showered. I’ll order us food then we can cuddle, possibly nap. How’s that sound?”
You looked up at him, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly soft and like you might cry. “You gonna take care of me?”
“Of course.”
“I’ve never done that either.”
“Excuse me?” He arched an eyebrow.
“Had someone take care of me after sex. I always had to do it myself.” His eyes darkened in that dangerous way they did. He rolled out of bed, then slid his arms under you, lifting you bridal style against his chest. “Minho!”
“Mine now,” he said simply, striding into his ensuite bathroom. He set you down in front of the shower stall then reached around you to turn on and adjust the water. Once it was a warm enough temperature, he gently backed you into the shower and under the spray. “Mine to take care of,” he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Mine to love,” he kissed the other corner of your lips. “All mine,” he said softly, staring into your eyes then leaning in to capture your lips in a firm, possessive kiss. You melted against him, clutching tightly to his shoulders as water cascaded over the back of your head and shoulders.
Summary: A quiet night of gaming between best friends takes a heated turn when Felix overhears your mumbling his name in your sleep.
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Content Warning: sexual content, smut, oral ( f receiving) , mutual pining, bestfriends to lovers, sleep talking
Word Count: 2.9k
A/N: this was a request that I got and wrote it half asleep a few days ago, it has been sitting in my drafts since.
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EVERYTHING WRITTEN IS PURELY FICTION──NOTHING IS DIRECTLY RELATED TO ANY REAL LIFE EVENTS.
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The warm glow of LED lights flickered dimly around Felix’s room, casting a soft golden hue over the familiar space. Posters of his favorite games lined the walls, shelves stacked neatly with figurines, and an open bag of chips sat forgotten beside his monitor. The hum of his console filled the quiet, accompanied only by the rhythmic clicking of his controller.
You were curled up on his bed, wrapped in one of his oversized hoodies, your body nestled into the thick blankets. The scent of his detergent—vanilla and fresh cotton—clung to the fabric, mixing with the faint aroma of the hot cocoa you had both been drinking earlier.
This was routine for you and Felix—late-night gaming, snacks, and laughter until exhaustion pulled you under. You had been best friends since childhood, practically inseparable, and yet, recently, something felt… different.
The way his fingers would linger a little longer when he passed you a controller, how his gaze softened whenever he looked at you, or the way his voice dropped an octave when he murmured your name.
Felix was clueless about your feelings, or so you thought. What you didn’t realize was that he had spent countless nights like this, sneaking glances at you between games, swallowing down the urge to reach out and take what he had been craving for so long.
He had memorized the way you curled up in his bed like you belonged there. The way his hoodie looked on you, how the sleeves covered your hands, how the hem rode up just enough to tease his imagination.
Tonight was no different.
Or at least, it wasn’t—until you started talking in your sleep.
Felix had been mid-match, fingers moving instinctively over the controls, deep in concentration. The tension of the boss fight had him on edge, jaw set, every nerve focused. And then—
"Felix…"
His fingers stilled. His breath caught.
He turned, gaze snapping to you, heart hammering against his ribs.
You shifted slightly, still lost in sleep, lashes fluttering against your cheeks as you mumbled again.
"Mm… so pretty… wanna kiss you…"
Felix felt heat pool low in his stomach, spreading through his veins like wildfire.
Did he hear that right? His grip on the controller tightened, muscles tensing. But then—
"Wish you’d just… touch me already…"
Felix inhaled sharply, the room suddenly feeling too small, too warm. His sweet, innocent best friend—murmuring those words, about him?
The controller slipped from his hands, landing with a soft thud against the desk. The game was forgotten, his entire world narrowing down to you—your body curled in his bed, his hoodie swallowing you up, your lips parted just so.
A slow, dangerous smirk curled at the corner of his mouth. So, you did want him.
Leaning in, he hovered just above you, his breath ghosting over your skin. His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear. You looked so peaceful, so utterly his, even if you didn’t know it yet.
"Angel," he murmured, voice deep, laced with something darker, something possessive.You didn’t stir.
Felix exhaled, restraint hanging by a thread. He could wake you, pretend he never heard anything… or he could give you exactly what you wanted. And fuck, he wanted you too badly to stop now.
His lips barely grazed the shell of your ear as he whispered, voice like silk wrapping around you. "Is that what you dream about, hmm?" His tone was teasing, seductive. "Me touching you?"
A small whimper escaped your lips, and Felix’s restraint snapped.His fingers ghosted down your arm, deliberate, slow—testing, taunting. "You have no idea what you just started, angel."
His lips brushed over your jaw, featherlight at first, savoring the way your skin reacted to his touch. Then, finally—
A kiss. Soft, fleeting. Barely there. But it was enough. Because the moment his lips met your skin, your eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep.
"Lix…?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, confusion laced in its drowsy undertone.
His face hovered inches from yours, eyes dark and unreadable, burning with something you had never seen before. The warmth in his gaze was still there, but beneath it simmered something else—something electric, consuming.
"You talk in your sleep, angel," he murmured, thumb brushing against your cheek, voice dripping with amusement. "You said something interesting just now."
Your stomach dropped. Oh God.
Felix chuckled at your expression, the sound deep, sending a shiver down your spine. "Y’know, if you wanted me to touch you," he leaned in, lips barely ghosting over yours, teasing, tempting, "all you had to do was ask."
Your breath hitched. And then, Felix kissed you.
This time, it wasn’t soft. It was raw, desperate—weeks, months, years of suppressed longing crashing down all at once. His hands found your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp. He swallowed the sound eagerly, tongue sliding against yours as he deepened the kiss, leaving no room for hesitation.
"Felix—"
"Shh, angel." His grip tightened, pulling you against him as if he could mold you into him completely. His voice was husky, thick with need. "Let me make your dreams come true, yeah?"
And who were you to deny your pretty best friend?
Felix’s lips moved against yours with a slow, deliberate hunger—one that sent warmth pooling deep in your belly. His hands, firm but gentle, gripped your waist, keeping you flush against him as he deepened the kiss. The room was still wrapped in the golden glow of fairy lights, the quiet hum of his console a distant sound beneath the soft sighs escaping your lips.
You could barely think, barely breathe with how he was kissing you—like he had been waiting forever, like he needed this as much as you did.
His tongue flicked teasingly against yours before he pulled away slightly, his breath warm against your lips. "You’re so cute when you’re flustered," Felix murmured, chuckling as he pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Did you mean it?"
Your heart pounded. "Mean what?"
His fingers traced slow, lazy circles along your thigh. "What you said in your sleep," he mused, tilting his head. "That you wanted me to touch you."
You swallowed hard. How the hell were you supposed to answer that when he was looking at you like that—his dark lashes fluttering, his plush lips slightly swollen from kissing you?
Felix smirked, sensing your hesitation. "It’s okay, angel," he whispered, fingers skimming under the hem of his hoodie that you were wearing. "I already know the answer."
He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin beneath your ear. "You want me," he murmured, voice low and teasing. "And if I’m being honest, I want you too. So, so badly."
Your breath hitched as his hands traveled higher, palms warm against your skin. His hoodie, which had once felt cozy and oversized, suddenly felt too much—like a barrier between you and his touch.
"Lix…" you whispered, hands fisting his shirt.
"Hm?" He hummed, placing a soft kiss on your jaw, his fingers slipping under the hoodie, tracing featherlight touches up your bare waist.
"I want you," you finally admitted, cheeks burning.
Felix groaned softly, pressing his forehead against yours. "Say it again," he murmured, his grip on your waist tightening.
"I want you," you repeated, voice barely above a whisper.
"That’s my girl," he murmured before tilting your chin up and kissing you deeply. His hands pushed the hoodie up, his fingertips grazing over your bare skin, making you shiver. He pulled back just enough to tug it over your head, tossing it aside. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, lips parting slightly.
Felix’s kisses slowed, filled with something deeper than just hunger. His hands roamed your back, fingertips tracing lazy patterns against your skin as if memorizing every inch of you. The warmth of his body pressed against yours, comforting and electrifying all at once.
"You feel so perfect," he murmured, resting his forehead against yours for a moment, breath mingling. "Like you were made just for me."
Your heart swelled at the tenderness in his voice. You reached up, cupping his face, thumbs brushing over his sharp cheekbones. "I was always yours, Lix."
And in that instant, he melted. He kissed you again, but this time, it was sweet—unhurried, lingering. His hands caressed your sides, squeezing gently before he pulled you into his lap, arms wrapping securely around you.
He nuzzled into your neck, placing soft kisses along your pulse, his voice barely above a whisper. "Then let me show you just how much that means to me, angel."
And as he held you close, hands warm and loving, Felix made good on his promise, worshiping you with every kiss, every touch.
"God, you’re beautiful," he whispered, his fingers tracing along your spine before pressing you against him. The warmth of his body, the way his hands molded against your curves—it sent a shiver down your spine.
You whimpered as he trailed kisses down your neck, his lips soft but needy, each press of his mouth igniting something deeper within you.
"Tell me if it’s too much, okay?" he murmured, his voice laced with tenderness as he cupped your cheek.
You nodded, heart swelling at how gentle he was despite the hunger in his gaze. "I trust you."
Felix’s pupils dilated at your words. "Good girl," he whispered before laying you down on the bed, his body hovering over yours.
You could barely think, barely breathe with how he was kissing you—like he had been waiting forever, like he needed this as much as you did.
Felix pulled away just enough to brush his lips against your jaw, his voice laced with warmth and teasing. "I’m gonna take my time with you, angel," he whispered, his hands trailing lower, gripping your thighs. "Make sure you never have to dream about this again."
The air between you was charged, electric, yet the way he touched you was so soft, so loving—like he wanted to worship every inch of you.
And that’s exactly what he did.
Felix’s hands traced slow, deliberate patterns over your bare skin, his fingertips featherlight as they explored every inch of you.
His touch sent shivers dancing down your spine, setting your nerve endings ablaze with anticipation. His gaze, dark yet filled with adoration, raked over your form as if committing every detail to memory.
“You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his voice husky with restrained desire. His lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses down to your collarbone, taking his time savoring the taste of you. Each kiss was slow, filled with tender, like he wanted to worship you with every touch.
Your breath hitched when he slid his hands up your sides, fingers grazing your ribcage before slipping under your back to unclasp your bra. He pulled back slightly, watching you through half-lidded eyes as he peeled the fabric away, baring you to him completely.
A deep groan rumbled in his chest as he took you in, his fingers tracing the curves of your body with awe. “So beautiful,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple in a slow, teasing motion. The sensation sent a wave of pleasure straight to your core, and you gasped softly, arching into his touch.
Felix’s lips found yours again, this time with more urgency, more need. His kisses were deep and intoxicating, his tongue teasing yours as he pressed his body flush against you. The warmth of his skin against yours sent a delicious heat pooling between your thighs, and you couldn’t stop the soft moan that slipped from your lips.
He swallowed the sound eagerly, tilting his head to deepen the kiss as his hands traveled lower, fingers skimming the waistband of your shorts. “May I?” he asked, voice thick with desire, yet still laced with that ever-present tenderness.
You nodded breathlessly, but he tsked softly, smirking against your lips. “Words, angel.”
“Yes, Lix,” you murmured, your voice trembling with need. “Please.”
A satisfied hum vibrated against your lips as he slid your shorts and panties down, leaving you bare beneath him. His gaze darkened as he pulled back to admire you, his fingertips tracing the insides of your thighs, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body.
“So soft,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your hipbone before settling between your legs. His hands gripped your thighs gently, spreading them apart as he looked up at you, his eyes smoldering with something deeper than just lust.
The first brush of his lips against your core was featherlight, almost teasing, but the sensation made you gasp, your fingers threading into his soft hair. Felix chuckled against your skin, his warm breath sending tingles up your spine. “Patience, angel. Let me take my time with you.”
And he did.
His tongue flicked against your clit in slow, deliberate strokes, his hands holding your hips firmly in place as he devoured you. Each movement was precise, calculated to pull the sweetest sounds from your lips. He alternated between soft, teasing licks and deep, languid strokes that had you writhing beneath him, completely at his mercy.
The pleasure built steadily, heat coiling tighter and tighter in your core. Felix could feel it, could hear it in the breathy moans spilling from your lips, and he groaned against you, the vibrations sending a jolt of ecstasy through your body.
“Lix—” You whimpered, your thighs trembling around his head.
He hummed in response, his tongue working you over with practiced ease, never once breaking his slow, sensual pace. His fingers joined in, slipping inside you with a careful, deliberate push, stretching you open as his tongue continued its assault on your clit. Your back arched, pleasure surging through you like wildfire.
“Let go for me, angel,” he murmured against your skin, his voice sinfully smooth. “I want to feel you come apart.”
The combination of his fingers curling inside you and the expert flick of his tongue sent you over the edge. A cry of his name tore from your lips as your orgasm crashed over you, your body trembling beneath him. Felix groaned, lapping up every drop of your release, prolonging your pleasure until you were gasping for breath.
He pulled back slowly, licking his lips as he crawled back up your body, capturing your lips in a deep, languid kiss. “You taste like heaven,” he whispered against your lips, his voice thick with satisfaction.
You were still catching your breath when you felt him pressing against your entrance, his cock hard and heavy confined inside his sweats, teasing your soaked folds. Felix groaned softly, resting his forehead against yours as he rolled his hips, coating himself in your arousal.
“You sure, baby?” he murmured, searching your eyes for any hesitation.
You cupped his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “I want this, Felix. I want you.”
A low growl escaped him as he kissed you deeply, his body trembling with restraint as he gave in, freeing his cock out—it’s beautifully swollen tip already leaking with precum before he pushed inside you, inch by inch.
The stretch was delicious, toeing the line between pleasure and pain, but the way Felix held you—his hands cradling your face, his lips pressing soothing kisses against your temple—made you feel nothing but safe and cherished.
“You’re so tight, angel,” he groaned, his voice a deep rasp as he bottomed out inside you. He stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust, his forehead pressed against yours as he peppered your face with kisses. “Feel so good around me.”
You moaned softly, wrapping your legs around his waist, urging him to move. “Please, Lix… I need you.”
That was all he needed.
Felix pulled back slowly before thrusting in again, setting a steady, sensual rhythm that had you both gasping. His movements were deliberate, each roll of his hips deep and unhurried, savoring the way your bodies fit together perfectly.
His hands roamed your body, tracing every curve, every dip, as if trying to memorize the way you felt beneath him. “You’re mine,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “Made for me.”
You nodded, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor, your fingers clawing at his back as pleasure coiled tightly in your belly once more. “Yours, Felix,” you breathed. “Always.”
Felix groaned, his pace faltering slightly at your words. He captured your lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing your moans as he quickened his pace, chasing both your releases. His hand slipped between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, lazy circles that sent you hurtling toward the edge.
“Come for me, angel,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “Wanna feel you.”
His words sent you spiraling, pleasure crashing over you in waves as you clenched around him, your orgasm ripping through you with an intensity that left you breathless.
Felix followed moments later, his hips stuttering before pulling out—giving himself a few strokes before spilling onto your drenched cunt with a deep, guttural moan, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he rode out his high.
For a moment, neither of you moved, the only sound in the room being your ragged breaths and the distant hum of his console. Felix lifted his head, brushing his lips over yours in a soft, tender kiss.
“You okay, angel?” he murmured, his voice laced with concern.
You smiled, threading your fingers through his hair. “Never better.”
Felix chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead before wrapping you in his arms, holding you close. “Good,” he whispered, nuzzling into your neck. “Because I’m never letting you go now that you’re mine.”
