Tags: explicit sexual content, choking kink / neck play, brat taming, praise + possessiveness, slight dom/sub dynamic, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, multiple positions, couch sex, shower sex, best friends to lovers, sexual tension
Word count : 9.6k
Summary: He’s the golden boy of your friend group, also your best friend of ten years. Touchy without thinking. Protective without asking. And hot—criminally hot—without ever being yours. Until one night, in the middle of a crowded living room, his hand wraps around your neck without thinking. And you realize… he has no idea.
This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!
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There was no knock. There never was.
Chan walked into your apartment like he paid rent—hoodie half-zipped, keys jingling in his hand, the familiar scent of clean laundry and whatever cologne he swiped from his dresser that morning trailing in after him. He kicked off his shoes like a man with no shame and made a beeline for your fridge.
You didn’t even look up from your laptop. “You steal one more yogurt and I’m reporting you to the building board.”
He opened the fridge. “You don’t even like Greek yogurt.”
“You don’t know my life.”
“I know you used it once for a TikTok mask and gagged.”
You grinned. “Okay, fine. But still. Ask before you mooch.”
He shut the fridge and padded over, yogurt in one hand, water bottle in the other. “Never have. Never will.”
Chan dropped onto the couch beside you, close enough for his thigh to press solidly against yours. He stretched his arm behind you like he was at a movie theatre trying to flirt with a stranger. His fingers brushed your shoulder, then stayed there. Rested. Comfortable.
Normal.
You didn’t move. Just kept typing, one leg curled beneath you, the other pressed tight against his. You’d long since stopped noticing how often his body found yours. Chan was touchy—had been since high school. Always stretching across your lap, squeezing your arms, playing with your fingers absentmindedly during long talks. You didn’t even flinch when his palm dropped to your knee now, warm and casual.
This was just how it had always been.
People didn’t get it. Not back in school, not in college, not now when you lived a few floors apart and spent most nights either at his place or yours. The teasing from friends had been endless, and the side-eyes never stopped. But neither of you had ever crossed that line. Not even once.
Not even close.
You were hot. He was hot. That was an objective fact. But hot didn’t mean available. It didn’t mean interested. Not between you two.
Chan opened the yogurt with one hand and shoved the lid at you. “Lick this. Be useful.”
You turned your face slowly. “You want me to lick your foil lid?”
“I’m not dirtying a spoon just to eat this.”
“You’re so unserious.”
“I’m efficient.”
You took the lid, licked it once with a dramatic roll of your eyes, and handed it back. “Happy?”
He grinned. “Always.”
He popped the rest of the yogurt into his mouth and grabbed the TV remote, settling in like he didn’t plan on leaving for hours. You weren’t surprised. Most nights looked like this—Chan in your space, touching you somewhere, somehow, while the two of you talked about everything and nothing. He never asked. You never flinched. You barely noticed anymore.
And even when his hand slid just a little higher on your thigh—thumb brushing back and forth across the thin fabric of your shorts—you didn’t think twice. It didn’t register. Just Chan being Chan. Just another Tuesday.
⸻
Chan’s living room was loud. Like it always was when everyone crowded into his space.
Music buzzed from the Bluetooth speaker someone had connected half an hour ago. Your group of friends were splayed across every surface—couch cushions, beanbags, someone cross-legged on the floor—arguing over which movie to watch while the food delivery slowly made its way through Friday night traffic.
You were curled into the corner of the couch, legs tucked beneath you, half-listening, half-scrolling on your phone. Comfortable. Cozy. Familiar.
You’d lost count of how many nights like this there’d been. Movie nights, lazy dinners, game nights that never ended with the actual game. And Chan—always at the center of it. Hosting, leaning against walls with his arms crossed, eyes creased from laughter.
Right now, he was behind you, one knee on the couch as he leaned over to grab the remote off the coffee table. The angle brought his chest close to your back, the edge of his hoodie brushing your cheek before he spoke over your head.
“Why are we even voting?” he asked. “We all know it’s gonna end up being some sad indie movie with subtitles.”
“Because you like chaos,” someone shot back. “We’re trying to have feelings tonight.”
Chan huffed a laugh, dropped the remote onto the cushion beside you, and stayed where he was—half-standing behind the couch, his weight shifting from one arm to the next.
Then you felt it.
One hand landed lightly on your shoulder. And before you could glance back or even think twice, it slid upward.
His palm curved gently around the side of your neck.
Not tight. Not firm. Just resting.
His thumb brushed the underside of your jaw once, then paused, like he was measuring something.
“Huh,” he murmured, half to himself. “Your neck’s tiny.”
He squeezed—not hard, just curious. Testing the width of it in his hand. Like he was checking the fit of something he already owned. His fingers spread easily around your throat, thick and relaxed, his thumb nearly meeting his fingertips on the other side.
You didn’t move.
Couldn’t.
You kept your phone up, face calm, body casual. But inside?
You were choking.
Silently. Violently.
He had no idea.
He wasn’t even thinking about it. It was just Chan being Chan—touchy, absentminded, always touching you. Always. You’d never given it a second thought.
But this?
This was the one place you’d never imagined his hand.
The one part of your body that could short-circuit you with just a look, if the wrong person stared too long. And here he was—fingers wrapped casually around it, thumb brushing over your pulse, eyes probably still on the TV while your soul momentarily left your body.
You blinked. Swallowed. Scrolled aimlessly to mask the tension pooling hot in your stomach.
“Chan,” someone called out. “You good?”
“Yeah,” he said distractedly, thumb still grazing your neck. “Just thinking how weird it is that this—” he gave the softest squeeze, “—could pop like a grape.”
You let out a short, strangled sound that you masked as a cough.
Chan chuckled and finally moved away, dropping onto the armrest beside you with a bounce. His arm still brushed your shoulder, but the pressure on your throat was gone. Like it never happened.
Like it meant nothing.
And to him, it probably didn’t.
But to you?
You weren’t even sure if your breath had come back yet.
⸻
The door shut with a final click.
Silence fell over Chan’s apartment, the kind that only came after hours of noise—empty cups scattered across his counter, the echo of laughter still clinging to the walls. You sank deeper into the couch with a sigh, one hand absently rubbing your shoulder where it ached from sitting in the same position too long.
Chan reappeared from the kitchen, hair pushed back by a band now, hoodie sleeves rolled to the elbows. He tossed a bottle of water onto the coffee table and plopped down beside you, then paused.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” you said, too quick. “Just… tired.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re stiff.”
You shrugged, not looking at him. “Yeah, well. You try staying upright for four hours while Minho screams at the TV like it insulted his mother.”
He patted the space between his legs. “C’mon. Let me fix it.”
You hesitated, but only for a beat.
This wasn’t new. He’d given you shoulder rubs before—during finals in college, during hell weeks at your old job, after long car rides or moving days. It was Chan. Your Chan. The one person you trusted not to make anything feel weird.
So you shifted forward, sitting cross-legged between his thighs, and let him rest his hands on your shoulders.
At first, it was nothing.
Just firm pressure. The pads of his thumbs pushing slow, rhythmic circles into your traps, rolling out the knots like he had all the time in the world. You melted, just a little, head tipping forward under the strength of it.
“Jesus,” you muttered, “where did you even learn how to do that?”
“Years of stress,” he said. “You get good at fixing what you live with.”
You huffed something like a laugh, eyelids falling shut.
Then his thumbs pushed deeper, finding the ridge near the base of your neck, and you let out a low groan of relief.
It felt too good. Way too good.
But it was still safe.
Until his hands shifted.
Slid higher.
Thumbs brushing the edges of your neck now. Rubbing the muscles that fed into it. Soft. Slow. Intent.
Your body tensed before your brain caught up—and then it slipped.
A sound left you.
High-pitched. Sharp.
Needy.
You bit it back immediately, lips slamming shut, but the damage was done. It hung there in the air for a second too long—too feminine, too out of place for the room’s quiet.
Chan stilled.
You didn’t breathe.
Then—
“You good?” he asked lightly, voice above your head.
You could hear the confusion. Like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard it right. Or if you meant it the way it sounded.
“I—yeah.” Your voice cracked, and you cleared your throat. “Just sore.”
He hummed. Didn’t say anything else.
His hands moved again, this time slower, gentler—sweeping wide across your shoulders before sliding up again, thumbs circling your neck with almost tender pressure. Like he was feeling out the muscle tension—but also maybe trying to see if you’d make that sound again.
You were still. Too still.
“Didn’t think you were holding this much here,” he murmured. His thumbs pressed gently into the dip just behind your jaw. “You always carry it this high?”
You nodded too fast. “Y-Yeah. Must’ve slept weird.”
His touch softened, almost affectionate now, tracing down your neck with his thumbs before slipping away entirely. The absence of it made your breath hiccup.
You couldn’t look back at him.
Not yet.
Because now you weren’t sure if he didn’t notice…
Or if he definitely did.
You hadn’t mentioned it.
Neither had he.
Not when you stood to leave a few minutes later, not when he walked you to the door like he always did, not even when his hand lingered low on your back as you slipped on your slides.
If anything, he looked more normal than usual. Relaxed. Even smiled when you told him you’d come by tomorrow to help clean.
“Don’t forget I’m your friend, not your maid,” you said.
He gave your arm a little squeeze. “You’re both.”
And that was that.
Or so you thought.
—
The next day, his apartment looked exactly the same. A few stray cups gathered in the sink, a throw blanket half-draped off the couch, crumbs on the coffee table. You tossed your bag down and got to work wiping things down while he gathered trash from the bedroom.
“You could at least pretend to clean while I’m here,” you called out.
“I am cleaning,” he shouted back. “I just clean in peace. Unlike someone.”
You rolled your eyes, grinning.
It was easy again. Like nothing happened.
Until it wasn’t.
He emerged from the hallway, rubbing the back of his neck, then padded barefoot across the room to take the rag from your hand.
“Okay,” he said. “Can we talk about something?”
You glanced at him. “What?”
He didn’t speak right away.
Instead, he took the rag, folded it neatly, and set it on the table—slow and deliberate, like he was giving you time to brace.
Then he looked at you. Really looked.
“That sound you made,” he said, voice quiet. “Yesterday. When I was rubbing your neck.”
Your stomach dropped. Not in panic. Just in… sheer mortified awareness.
You played dumb. “What sound?”
Chan tilted his head, amused.
“Don’t do that.”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” you insisted, backing a step toward the kitchen, like that would save you.
He followed. One step. Two.
“You made a sound,” he said, not letting it go. “High. Like… I don’t know. Not pain. Definitely not pain.”
Your cheeks flamed. “Okay, and?”
“It just surprised me.” His voice stayed calm. Curious. “You don’t usually sound like that.”
You swallowed hard, crossing your arms in a weak attempt at a barrier. “It was nothing. You just hit a spot. I didn’t even realize I—”
“Sure,” he cut in gently. “But… I’m sure I’ve hit that spot before.”
You froze.
He smiled again, but it was slower now. Measured. A little too knowing.
Your voice came out small. “So?”
“So…” he scratched at his jaw, like he was still figuring out what he wanted to say. “I don’t know. It just sounded like… something else.”
Silence.
Heavy. Awkward. Charged.
You looked down. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Chan stepped a little closer.
You could smell him again—clean and warm, the same scent you’d been surrounded by for years. But now? It clung to your skin differently. Sunk into your pulse.
He was watching you carefully. Not pressuring. Not pushing.
Just… observing.
“Okay,” he said finally. “I believe you.”
Relief hit you, fast and fleeting.
“But if you had meant something by it,” he added, voice lower now, “you’d tell me, right?”
Your breath hitched.
He wasn’t teasing anymore.
He wasn’t joking.
You met his gaze—eyes warm, calm, steady. There wasn’t a trace of judgment in them. No expectation either. Just the softest, slightest pull of curiosity.
And something else you couldn’t name yet.
You looked away.
“Clean your damn table, Christopher.”
He smirked. “So that’s a no?”
“That’s a goodnight.”
You grabbed your bag and made a beeline for the door, pulse thudding in your throat, your skin hot all over. You could still feel the ghost of his hand there, even now. Still circling. Still squeezing.
And the worst part? You knew you’d dream about it.
The second you turned toward the door, you knew he wasn’t going to let it slide.
You felt it.
That shift in the air. The narrowing of his patience. Chan wasn’t dumb, and he wasn’t oblivious. You’d slipped out of a hundred close calls with him over the years, danced around every whisper of tension—but now?
He had a thread.
And he was pulling it.
“Wait,” he said, quiet.
You kept walking.
“Don’t be weird about it,” you muttered. “I said it was nothing.”
The words barely left your mouth before you felt his hand curling around the waistband of your sweatpants and pulling you back into him with a snap.
Your breath hitched.
Back to his chest. Spine to his hoodie. You froze, lips parting in disbelief.
“Chan—”
He grabbed your face before you could finish. One hand cupping your jaw, the other squishing your cheeks together so your lips puckered slightly, tilting your head back against him.
Your breath caught.
“Tell me,” he said, voice low—so low it brushed against your ear like a hum. “That moan. Was it your neck?”
You squirmed, heat rushing to your face, but his grip was firm. Not rough. Just insistent. Gentle like the beginning of something you weren’t ready to name yet.
“I said it was nothing,” you mumbled through his hold.
“I heard you the first time.” His hand loosened just enough for your jaw to move, but his palm didn’t leave your skin. “But that’s not what I asked.”
You turned your head slightly, but he followed the motion, chest warm against your back, his breath fanning across your temple.
“I’m not judging you,” he said softer now, almost amused. “I’m just asking… do you have a thing for this?”
His hand dropped—slow, steady—fingertips trailing from your jaw down the curve of your throat.
You stopped breathing.
His palm hovered just under your chin, thumb resting at the side of your neck, fingers spread. Barely touching. Barely grazing.
Then— He wrapped.
Not tight. Not firm. Just enough to feel his fingers circle you.
Just enough to remind you how small you were in his hand.
Everything in you went still.
Your lips parted again—useless, breathless, caught. You didn’t moan this time, but the silence said enough.
Chan’s voice dipped, teasing now. “So you do.”
You turned your face away, jaw tensed. “It’s not like that.”
His hand didn’t move.
“Then what’s it like?”
You stayed quiet, hands fisting at your sides.
“I didn’t even squeeze,” he murmured, voice velvet-slick. “And you froze like I switched you off with a button.”
“Shut up.”
He grinned. “Ohhh. So it’s like that.”
You tried to step forward, but his grip on your waistband tightened just slightly—reminding you he still had you. That he could pull again. That he would.
He leaned in, lips almost brushing your ear now.
“I’m not mad,” he said, gentle. “I’m not freaked out. I just…” his thumb grazed under your chin again, slow, sweet, deadly. “I think it’s kinda cute.”
“Chan,” you warned, but it came out too soft. Too breathy.
He let go of your jaw, finally. Stepped back a little.
His hand dropped from your neck like nothing happened.
But nothing about your body felt normal anymore.
“I’m gonna order takeout,” he said casually, walking to the kitchen. “You want the usual?”
You blinked.
Stared at him, stunned. “Are you serious?”
He glanced back with a smirk.
“Dead serious. But—if you wanna talk more about your kinks after dinner, I’m free.”
⸻
Dinner was a blur.
You barely tasted anything.
Chan ordered your usual like it was a normal night, like he hadn’t manhandled your face and wrapped his hand around your neck barely twenty minutes ago. He sat across from you at his counter, hoodie sleeves shoved to the elbows, digging into pizza while casually talking about Genshin.
You blinked at your own bowl, lips still tingling, mind running marathons.
He’d touched you a thousand times before—your waist, your thigh, your cheek, your lower back—but not like that.
Not with intent.
Not while calling you out about your kinks like he was just checking the weather.
You poked at your own noodles.
“So we’re not gonna talk about it?” you asked.
Chan looked up, chewing, one brow lifted.
“Talk about what?”
You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t play dumb.”
A beat of silence.
Then the softest smirk curled on his lips. “Thought you didn’t wanna talk about it.”
You stared at him.
Something low and hot coiled in your stomach. That smug little tone he always used on you when he knew he’d won—when he baited you into spilling, or laughing, or saying something you didn’t mean to say.
And suddenly?
You’d had enough. You dropped your fork. Sat back in your chair.
“Fine,” you said, eyes locked on his. “You wanna talk kinks? Let’s talk.”
The smile slipped from his face, slow and sharp—like something in him clicked.
“…Now?”
You crossed your arms, chin high. “You started it.”
Chan leaned forward, resting his forearms on the counter. “Alright,” he said slowly. “Let’s go.”
His voice was low again. Not teasing this time. Steady. Intrigued. Like you’d just pulled a loaded weapon on the table and told him to pick a side.
You swallowed. “We’ve never talked about this before.”
“I know.”
“We said we wouldn’t.”
“I remember.”
“So why now?”
Chan shrugged. “Because you moaned like someone touched your soul when I only grazed your neck and then tried to lie about it. And now I’m curious.”
You flushed.
“Curious about what?”
His gaze didn’t waver. “You.”
A silence stretched between you—hot, tight, heavy.
You laughed once, hollow. “God. This is so fucking weird.”
Chan tilted his head. “Is it?”
“Yes!” you threw your hands up. “You’re my best friend.”
“I’m still your best friend.”
“And we don’t talk about sex.”
“We do now.”
Your breath caught.
His eyes were too dark. Too steady. There was no out here.
You inhaled slowly. “Fine. What do you wanna know?”
Chan sat back again, folding his arms. “What else does it for you?”
You blinked. “Seriously?”
He nodded. “Dead serious.”
You hesitated.
Then—like the words tasted like sin—you said quietly, “Hands.”
A pause.
Chan’s lips twitched. “Yeah. I figured.”
“Big ones,” you added without thinking. “Veiny. Rough. Confident.”
His eyes gleamed. “That why you always let me manhandle you like a ragdoll?”
You rolled your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“I’m just observing,” he said. “What else?”
You gave him a flat look. “What, you taking notes now?”
He leaned in again, elbows on the table, voice dark velvet. “I will if you keep talking like that.”
Your thighs pressed together under the table.
You looked away. “You go. Say something.”
He was quiet for a second.
Then—casually—“I like brats.”
You choked.
“Excuse me?”
Chan grinned. “Smart mouths. Girls who push back. Who pretend they don’t wanna listen but fold the second I—”
“Okay!” you raised a hand. “That’s enough, Freud.”
He laughed, head tipping back.
But the tension didn’t ease.
If anything—it twisted tighter.
You bit your lip. “So like… choking. Is that weird?”
He blinked. “Is what weird? Wanting it done to you? Or doing it to someone?”
You paused. “…Both?”
Chan tilted his head, thoughtful. “Not weird. But it’s intense.”
You nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
Another silence.
He watched you. “You like intense?”
You looked up.
His eyes were too sharp again. Too serious.
You whispered, “Yeah.”
He stood.
You froze as he walked around the counter, bare feet soundless against the tile. He stopped in front of you, hand sliding onto your jaw—soft, slow—and tilted your face up again.
Your breath caught.
“You could’ve told me,” he said, voice low. “Any of this.”
“I thought you didn’t wanna hear it.”
His grip firmed just slightly—thumb brushing your cheek, the edge of your lip.
“I didn’t,” he said. “Until you moaned like that.”
His hand dipped.
Neck again.
Only this time, his fingers wrapped tight—not choking, but claiming. Measuring. Knowing.
And this time?
You didn’t pretend.
You looked him dead in the eye as your lips parted on a breathy, involuntary gasp.
“Yeah,” Chan whispered, smiling now. “That one.”
You should’ve walked away.
Should’ve laughed it off, said something dumb and deflective, gone home and buried yourself in blankets until the heat left your skin.
But you didn’t.
You sat there—his hand on your neck, your thighs clenched under the counter, breath caught somewhere in your throat—and you let him.
Chan was quiet. His eyes searched yours, slow and steady, like he was reading pages of you you didn’t even know were open.
His fingers flexed slightly around your neck. A light squeeze.
Not rough.
Just enough to say, I’m still here. You feel me, right?
And God… you did.
“You’re really into this,” he murmured.
You looked away, cheeks warm. “It’s not like I think about it all the time.”
“You don’t?”
“No.”
He hummed.
Then leaned closer.
“But you’ve imagined it.”
You stiffened.
He chuckled lowly, and you felt it through his palm, the softest vibration echoing down your spine. “That’s not a no.”
You turned your head, just slightly, and muttered, “You’re annoying.”
He pulled back.
Only to hook his fingers under your jaw again, tilting your chin up like you weighed nothing in his grip. “There she is,” he said, smiling like you’d done something delicious.
“What?”
“That mouth,” he said, tapping your lip once with his thumb. “That bratty tone.”
“I wasn’t being bratty.”
“Mhm,” he smirked, stepping back. “Sure you weren’t.”
He let go.
The loss of contact was immediate—jarring.
Your neck felt cold without his hand on it.
Chan crossed to the couch and collapsed into it, legs spread, arms stretched along the backrest. Like nothing had just happened. Like your whole reality hadn’t just tipped sideways.
You turned slowly. “What the hell was that?”
“What?”
You gestured vaguely at the space between you. “That.”
Chan shrugged. “Just testing a theory.”
Your eyes narrowed. “What theory?”
“That I’ve been missing out.”
You blinked. “Missing out on what?”
He grinned, head resting lazily against the cushion. “This side of you.”
Your heart thumped.
“There’s no side,” you lied quickly. “That was— That’s just how I talk to you.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m serious.”
He cocked his head. “So you’d moan like that if Seungmin gave you a massage?”
You glared. “Seungmin gives serial killer energy.”
“Then what about Hyunjin?”
“Hyunjin cries at perfume ads. I’d never let him near my neck.”
Chan laughed.
You didn’t.
“I’m not teasing you,” he said after a moment. “I just… I don’t know. Feels like we’re finally being real.”
You chewed your bottom lip. “It’s not like I was hiding anything on purpose.”
“I know.”
“I just thought it’d be… weird.”
Chan leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. “It’s not weird.”
“You’re not freaked out?”
“Nope.”
You hesitated. “So what now?”
He smiled, that slow, cocky, dangerous smile. “Now I get to learn things.”
Your stomach flipped.
“You’re making it sound creepy,” you muttered.
He stood up again. Walked toward you, deliberate this time.
And when he stopped in front of you again, it felt different.
He wasn’t teasing now. He was… curious. Focused. Like you were a puzzle he’d just realized had more pieces.
His hand came up again—back to your neck—but this time, he didn’t wrap it.
He traced.
Knuckles down your throat. Fingertips skimming your collarbone.
You held perfectly still.
“So sensitive here,” he murmured. “And you never said a word.”
“I didn’t think it mattered.”
“It matters now.”
You swallowed. “Why?”
He leaned in. Close. His breath brushed your lips.
“Because now I’m gonna find out what else does it for you.”
Your legs weakened.
Chan reached behind you and gently pushed you back into the nearest couch, standing over you now, looking down like you were a question he wanted to spend the night answering.
He tilted his head. “You like being told what to do?”
You blinked, heart hammering. “Why?”
“Just wondering how deep the brat thing goes.”
“It’s not a brat thing,” you snapped.
That smile again. Sharp. Addictive.
“There she is.”
“Ugh,” you scoffed, sinking back.
“C’mon,” he said softly. “Give me something else. I’ll tell you one of mine.”
You looked at him, wary. “Promise?”
“Swear.”
You exhaled slowly. “I like being touched… slowly. Like… teased. Not rushed.”
Chan’s eyes darkened.
“Oh,” he said. “We’re gonna have fun.”
You blinked. “Your turn.”
He dropped to his knees in front of you. Rested his hands on your knees, just above them.
Then leaned forward and said—
“I like control. But only when someone wants to give it up.”
You froze.
“Like… the second you say stop, I’m out,” he added. “But if you give me the green light…” His thumbs stroked slow, slow circles over your legs. “I’ll ruin you sweet.”
Your breath hitched.
“Too much?” he asked, smiling.
You didn’t answer.
Because truthfully?
You didn’t know if it was.
You weren’t sure what had shifted.
The air, maybe.
Or the weight of his eyes when he looked at you like that—like you were becoming something right in front of him.
But Chan didn’t back down.
He stayed where he was, hands resting on your knees, thumbs rubbing slow, distracted strokes into your skin like his mind was already a step ahead.
“I’ve never really talked to anyone about this stuff,” he said quietly, more to himself than to you. “Not like this.”
You swallowed. “Me neither.”
“I didn’t think I needed to. Thought I had it figured out.”
“And now?”
His eyes met yours again, and there was something deeper in them now. Darker.
“Now I think I’ve been fucking around in the shallow end.”
You stiffened, legs tensing under his grip.
He felt it.
His thumbs stilled.
“That bother you?” he asked softly.
You shook your head before you could stop yourself.
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing like he’d found a loose thread in you. “Then why are your thighs clenched?”
“I don’t know,” you breathed.
“Hmm.”
He moved his hands slightly up your legs, just a few inches, nothing dramatic. But his gaze stayed pinned to yours the whole time.
“Do you like when I talk like that?”
You hesitated.
Chan leaned in, whispering, “Tell the truth.”
Your lips parted, no sound coming out.
He grinned, barely. “Thought so.”
You flushed.
He sat back on his heels, exhaling a little laugh like this whole thing was amusing—and fascinating—and fucking exhilarating.
“I think I like this side of you,” he murmured.
“What side?”
He brought his hand up again, knuckles brushing your neck, then trailing down your collarbone. “The one that can’t sit still when I do this.”
You shivered.
He smiled. “You get quiet when you want something.”
“I’m not quiet.”
“Mm. You’re quieter than usual.”
He leaned in again.
Not touching this time—just watching you breathe.
“You always give this much control without realizing it?”
Your mouth went dry.
“I’m not—” you started.
But he shook his head.
“No, don’t answer. I like watching you try.”
Your stomach dropped straight through the floor.
You were wet.
God, you were already so fucking wet, and he hadn’t even touched you where it mattered. Not once.
He moved one knee forward, bracing his arm on the cushion beside your hips. The shift brought him closer. Too close.
And that’s when you felt it.
Hard. Heavy.
Brushing your inner thigh.
Your breath stilled.
Chan didn’t move.
His lips quirked—just barely.
And that’s when you knew.
He felt it too.
Still, he played innocent.
“Something wrong?”
Your eyes flicked to his, wide. “Are you—?”
“I am,” he said calmly. “You surprised?”
You blinked.
“No.”
“Because you’re hot?”
You exhaled slowly. “Because you’re different.”
That made him pause.
“How?”
“You’ve never… acted like this.”
He hummed, low in his chest. “You’ve never let me.”
You stuttered. “I— I didn’t stop you—”
“No,” he agreed, nodding once. “But you didn’t give me an invitation either.”
You looked down, eyes on the space between your bodies, his arousal pressed right up against you like a secret you weren’t supposed to notice.
And still, you didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
Didn’t say a word.
His voice softened. “So now that we’re here… wanna know another thing I’ve never told anyone?”
You nodded without thinking.
Chan’s fingers skimmed your hip, slow and deliberate. “I like watching people fall apart.”
Your lips parted, breath catching.
“But not in a mean way,” he added. “I like the process. The way your body learns to trust me before your brain catches up. I like how shaky your breath gets when I press on the right spot. How your legs tense when you’re trying not to give in.”
He smirked, voice dipping lower.
“I like hearing that little gasp you just made. And I really like how your thighs are squeezing together again.”
You gasped again, this time audible.
He was rock hard now. You could feel him throb slightly against you. A steady pulse through his sweatpants.
And then—God help you—he moved just a little.
A subtle, deliberate shift of his hips.
Just enough to feel how warm you were.
How ready.
Your jaw clenched.
Chan’s eyes flicked down to your mouth.
And that was his breaking point.
Because suddenly his hand was back—on your neck.
Not squeezing. Not dominating.
Feeling.
Like he was trying to understand how something so small could make him so desperate.
“You don’t even know what you’re doing to me,” he murmured, half-lost in it.
You swallowed. “Then show me.”
His eyes snapped back to yours.
Dark.
Ravenous.
But he didn’t kiss you.
Didn’t push further.
Instead, he leaned in—nose brushing yours—and whispered, “Not yet.”
That’s what he said—low, husky, brushing your lips like a secret.
But then his head dipped lower.
And you felt it—his mouth at your cheek first, warm and lingering, then sliding lower still until his lips brushed your jawline… his teeth barely grazing your skin.
You jolted.
He smiled against you.
“Still holding it together?” he murmured, voice thick with amusement.
And then he bit you.
Soft. Right on your cheekbone. Just enough pressure to make you gasp—nothing overwhelming, but so intimate, so damn suggestive, it felt like your body cracked open around it.
A moan slipped past your lips before you could stop it.
High. Desperate.
Sinful.
“Fuck…” you breathed, under your breath.
But he heard it.
God, he heard everything.
His mouth dragged to your ear—barely brushing it—before his tongue flicked once at the shell of it and he whispered, “Say that again.”
Your head tipped back into the couch, fingers digging into the cushion beside you.
He watched you fall apart, kneeling between your knees like you were some holy thing unraveling at his mercy.
And then, without even thinking, it slipped out.
“…Chan.”
His name, like a prayer.
Choked. Shaken.
Raw.
He stilled.
Completely.
You opened your eyes slowly, vision slightly hazy, only to find him staring back at you—eyes wide, chest rising visibly beneath his hoodie.
“Shit,” he muttered, like it hit him all at once.
Like he just realized the weight of what was actually happening.
You blinked, cheeks burning. “What?”
He shook his head once. “Say it again.”
“What?”
“My name.”
You bit your lip, too overwhelmed to even fake control.
And that was it.
That broke him.
Chan’s hands flew to your hips, dragging you down the couch cushion just enough for him to lean over you completely. His mouth caught yours in a kiss so devastatingly hot you forgot your own name.
Teeth clashing. Breath mixing.
Tongues tangling like they’d been waiting years for this.
Your fingers curled into his hoodie, desperate for something to hold onto as he kissed you like a man starving—like he was angry you’d kept this from him, angry you made him wait.
And the way you moaned into his mouth? The soft gasp you let out when his hand slipped beneath your shirt and splayed wide over your waist?
It shattered him.
Chan groaned against your lips, grinding into you once—slow but solid—and the friction was unbearable.
You whimpered, breath hitching, thighs tensing around his hips.
“Jesus, babe,” he growled into your neck, voice cracking with restraint. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”
But you did.
You knew now.
And worse? You loved it.
You tilted your head without thinking, exposing your throat like instinct, and the second his lips found the base of it, the moan you let out was filthy.
Loud. Guttural.
You felt him throb against your core through both your clothes.
And he didn’t even try to hide it.
His hand found your neck again—cradling, not choking. Not yet.
Just holding.
Possessive. Protective. Like it belonged to him.
“You were gonna hide this from me?” he whispered roughly against your skin. “This part of you?”
You whimpered, nails dragging down his back.
Chan laughed. Dark. Breathless.
“Not anymore.”
That was the last thing he said before everything blurred.
Your best friend had kissed you before—on your forehead, your cheek, once at midnight on New Year’s when he was tipsy and too sentimental—but this was different.
This wasn’t affection.
This was possession.
He kissed like he’d earned it—like every time he let you sleep in his bed, every time he pulled you into his chest when you were crying, every time he called you baby under his breath without thinking… was just a slow burn countdown to this moment.
His lips moved against yours like he already knew your rhythm. Like he’d been dreaming of it and now he was tasting it for real.
And when you moaned again? He growled into your mouth.
His hands were wild now, frantic. Pulling at the hem of your shirt, tugging you closer by the hips until you were slotted right against him, heat to heat.
You could feel how hard he was.
And when he shifted his weight and pressed into you deliberately, you gasped—high-pitched and startled.
He tore his lips from yours just long enough to pant, “Fuck. You’re driving me insane.”
“Then do something about it,” you whispered, already breathless.
His eyes flashed.
“Say less.”
His hand slipped beneath the waistband of your sweatpants so fast it made your breath catch—and when his fingers reached your panties, he froze.
Because you were soaked.
Dripping.
His fingers brushed along the fabric—slick and clinging—and then he dragged them lower, curling them against the wet heat right between your legs.
You gasped. Shuddered.
Chan’s head dropped to your shoulder, lips at your ear, groaning deep in his throat. “You’re fucking soaked.”
You whimpered.
His fingers stroked once—just enough to tease—before he yanked your sweatpants down in one go, panties and all.
You squeaked, legs instinctively clamping together, but he was already on his knees again, big hands sliding under your thighs and pulling them apart with a groan.
“Let me see,” he rasped. “Come on, babe, show me how bad you need me.”
You swallowed, chest heaving.
You had never seen him like this—never even imagined him like this.
Hair messy, lips red, hoodie halfway off his shoulder as he pushed himself between your legs like a man starving.
And it wasn’t until he looked up—until those dark, wrecked eyes dragged slowly up your body and met yours—that you realized:
You were gone.
Undone. Open.
And he loved it.
His fingers returned, sliding into your folds with maddening slowness.
You cried out, knees trembling.
He sucked in a breath, watching his hand work between your legs like he couldn’t believe what he was feeling.
“Dripping,” he whispered, almost reverent. “All this for me?”
You bit your lip. “Don’t be cocky.”
He smirked.
And then he curled two fingers inside you in one smooth thrust.
You screamed.
Your hand shot out, grabbing at his wrist, your thighs threatening to close—but he was too strong.
He pressed one hand firmly on your stomach, keeping you grounded while his fingers moved—slow, then fast, then deeper.
“Not cocky,” he panted. “Just maybe obsessed.”
You cried out again, body arching, trying to grind into his palm. Every nerve ending in your body was on fire—and he was eating it up.
“Fuck, look at you,” he groaned. “Melting for me. You gonna come already?”
You shook your head, biting your fist.
He chuckled darkly. “Don’t hold back now, baby. We’ve got years to make up for.”
You moaned louder—desperate.
And then he stopped.
Just like that.
Fingers sliding out, breath ragged.
You blinked at him in shock, your whole body pulsing.
“What—?”
He wiped his fingers on the hem of his hoodie like it was nothing, then leaned forward and whispered against your mouth, “I’m not letting you come with my hand. Not the first time.”
You whimpered, a broken, trembling sound.
He kissed you again, rougher this time.
And then his hands were on his hoodie, yanking it off in one smooth motion, chest glistening with sweat, body hard and flexed as he stood to kick off his sweatpants.
You stared.
You’d seen him shirtless. You’d seen him in boxers during sleepovers. But this?
This was feral.
Ripped, flushed, bulging under tension—and fully hard now, cock bobbing as he leaned back over you, eyes wild with want.
“You ready?” he asked, voice wrecked.
You couldn’t even speak.
Just nodded.
Because the fire had already started, and now?
You wanted to burn.
You were breathless beneath him—bare, dizzy, skin hot and tingling in all the right places. And when he hovered over you now, sweat-slick and wild-eyed, your best friend didn’t look like your best friend anymore.
He looked like a man unraveling. One second away from ruin. Yours.
His hand slid behind your knee, lifting your leg over his hip. “You good?”
You nodded again, swallowing hard.
He smirked, gaze dropping to your lips.
“You sure?” he asked, dragging the blunt head of his cock through your slick folds—slow, teasing, maddening. “You look like you’re in trouble already.”
And something in you—something playful and wicked—snapped.
“Guess we’ll see if you can handle it.”
Chan paused.
Your voice—usually warm, teasing, light—was lower now. Challenging.
Bratty.
His brows lifted. “Oh?”
You shrugged, purposefully lazy beneath him, your leg tightening around his waist. “I mean… you talk a big game, but—” you made a little face, “—you’ve never even kissing me before today.”
Chan blinked slowly.
Then laughed once—dangerous and deep in his chest—before grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head in one swift movement.
“You’re cute when you’re mouthy.”
You gasped, startled, but didn’t stop.
“I’m just saying,” you said sweetly, shifting under him, deliberately dragging your slick heat along his length. “You’ve waited ten years for this. Hope you’re not rusty.”
He stared down at you like you were made of sin and gasoline.
“Oh, baby,” he murmured, lowering his face to yours, lips brushing your cheek. “You want me to wreck you, don’t you?”
You smirked. “I’d like to see you try.”
And that was it.
That was all it took.
He snapped.
His hand came down, wrapping tight around your throat and the next thing you felt was the blunt push of his cock stretching you open in one slow, greedy slide.
You cried out, head falling back, legs trembling from the stretch.
“Fuck—”
“That shut you up quick,” he growled, watching your face as he bottomed out.
You whimpered, fully filled now, completely caged beneath him, and for a moment all you could do was breathe.
You weren’t used to this—this intensity. This power shift.
You weren’t used to being his.
Chan didn’t move right away. He stayed there—deep inside you, hand on your throat, his other still pinning your wrists—just watching.
Then his voice dropped to a whisper. “Say my name.”
You bit your lip, eyes fluttering. “…Chan.”
He pulled out halfway.
“Say it right.”
“Chan—ah, fuck—Chan,” you gasped, back arching.
He snapped his hips forward—hard—and your moan broke into a scream.
“You’re soaked,” he panted. “You’ve been hiding this from me?”
“I didn’t know—” you whimpered, completely undone, “—you’d be like this.”
He smiled against your throat, kissed it once, then bit down lightly on your jaw. “This is what you do to me.”
And when you clenched around him at those words?
He lost it.
His grip tightened—your wrists, your throat, your hips—and he started moving, every thrust thick and deep, sharp enough to send your thoughts scattering into stars.
“Still wanna be a brat?” he growled, pulling out only to slam back in harder.
You whimpered, breath catching. “Yes.”
He chuckled darkly. “Wrong answer.”
He dragged your hands down, pinning them to your chest now as he fucked into you, his entire body a weapon. Every thrust hit somewhere new—some place that made you cry out, curse, beg without knowing you were doing it.
“Look at you,” he said, voice wrecked. “You gonna be good now?”
Your pride screamed no.
But your body—your soaked, trembling, wrecked body—sobbed yes.
You swallowed hard, hips twitching, and whispered up at him with all the strength you had left:
“Make me.”
Chan’s eyes blazed.
“Oh, baby,” he growled, snapping his hips forward again. “I’m gonna make you beg.”
And from the way your legs shook?
You knew he already was.
You didn’t remember when your moans got louder than the thoughts in your head.
Didn’t remember when you stopped trying to talk back and started crying his name like a plea.
But your body remembered. Every inch of it was tuned to his touch now—sweaty, sticky, soaked, and strung out beneath the weight of your best friend losing his damn mind inside you.
He hadn’t stopped moving.
And he hadn’t stopped talking.
“Fuck, you feel like heaven,” he groaned against your skin, hips snapping forward. “Been dreaming about this—about you—for years. You were right in front of me—walking around like that, giving me attitude, pushing my buttons.”
You gasped, fingers dragging down his back. “I wasn’t trying—”
“Bullshit,” he growled, pulling out just enough to thrust back in hard, rocking your entire body against the couch. “You knew what you were doing. You knew I’d snap.”
You choked on a scream, grabbing at his shoulder for balance.
And then, with a glint in his eye, he lifted one of your legs onto the couch arm and pressed forward—deep and low.
You damn near sobbed.
“Fuck, this angle—” he hissed through clenched teeth, “—you’re squeezing me so fucking tight.”
You shivered, mouth open, unable to answer—until a familiar bratty smirk broke onto your lips.
“Still think you’re in control?” you managed, breathless.
Chan stopped moving.
Dead still.
And grinned.
“Oh, baby girl.”
And just like that, he yanked out of you, flipped your body, and shoved your front down into the couch cushions.
His hand was already on your back, pressing you down as he lined up again—and when he slid back in with one long, filthy thrust, your scream was muffled in the fabric.
“Who’s in control now?” he grunted, pounding into you from behind, one hand on your hip, the other wrapped around your neck again—pulling you back, making your spine curve deliciously.
You tried to fight it—tried to sass, to squirm—but every stroke hit your g-spot like he’d mapped your body in his dreams.
And when he growled “look at that arch,” you whimpered.
“I can feel you clenching, baby. You gonna come already?”
You hissed, bratty again through your cries. “You wish—”
So he pulled out, flipped you again.
“Keep testing me,” he breathed, dragging you into his lap, guiding you down onto him so slowly it made your eyes roll back.
He didn’t move.
Just held your hips steady, eyes locked on your face.
“You think you’re the one riding me?” he whispered, almost tender—until his fingers dug into your skin and he thrust up hard.
You screamed, forehead dropping onto his shoulder.
“Oh no, baby. You just get to watch this time.”
He started bouncing you on his cock, fucking up into you, his grip rough, his rhythm feral.
“You gonna be good yet?” he panted, breath hot on your cheek. “Or should I fuck the brat out of you?”
You couldn’t speak. You could barely breathe.
But you nodded.
You were gone.
Gone for him.
He kissed your shoulder, then bit it.
And then?
He moved you again.
He was everywhere—his weight, his mouth, his cock so deep you felt like you’d split in half.
Your cries were high and broken now, your hands slipping against his sweat-slick back as he pounded you into the cushions with intent.
And then his hand went right back to your neck—holding, lifting, claiming you while he fucked the soul out of your body.
“You’re mine,” he panted, hips relentless. “Say it.”
You moaned, arching up into him. “Yours—yours, fuck—Chan—”
He dropped his forehead to yours, eyes wrecked, heart thundering.
“Come for me.”
And this time?
You did.
With a scream that could’ve broken glass.
Your body snapped, back bowing, thighs clenching around him, tears streaking your cheeks as the pleasure tore through you.
Chan didn’t stop.
He groaned, deep and desperate, as your walls clenched and fluttered around him—and then he stilled, cock buried to the hilt, trembling against you.
“Fucking—shit—”
You felt him pulse deep inside you, hot and thick.
And when he finally collapsed on top of you—panting, wrecked, his face buried in your neck—you couldn’t stop the soft, breathless laugh that left you.
“…That’s one way to discuss kinks.”
Chan huffed against your cheek.
“Oh, baby,” he murmured, kissing your jaw sweetly. “You’ve got no idea how bad it’s about to get.”
—-
Your body was buzzing—tender, used, and so completely ruined that you barely noticed when Chan lifted you off the couch like you weighed nothing.
You whimpered at the movement, tucking your face into his neck as he carried you down the hall, both of you still catching your breath.
Neither of you spoke. There was only the soft pat of his feet against the tile, your fluttering heartbeat in your ears, and the low, satisfied hum he made when you clung tighter to his shoulders.
The bathroom light flickered on. Warm. Clean. Familiar.
He didn’t hesitate. Just toed off the last piece of fabric on his body and stepped under the stream with you still in his arms.
The hot water hit your back and you gasped at the contrast—already sensitive, skin electric under every drop.
Chan’s big hands slid over you, soothing, slow. He lathered up a washcloth and began running it gently over your shoulders, your thighs, between your legs with such focus you had to fight the urge to melt all over again.
“You okay?” he asked, quiet against your ear, lips brushing your temple.
You nodded. “…Think you broke me.”
He chuckled, chest rumbling against yours. “Not even close.”
But still, his touch was careful now. Reverent. Like he couldn’t believe you were real.
And maybe that’s why you did it.
Why you let your hands roam a little more than they needed to.
Why you leaned in and started trailing soft kisses down his collarbone.
Why your lips didn’t stop there.
Because you couldn’t believe he was real either.
Not like this. Not yours.
He stilled when your mouth reached his chest.
You kissed it slowly, tenderly, running your fingers down his abs, over the ridges of muscle that flexed beneath your touch.
“…Babe,” he whispered, voice low, warning, already unraveling. “Don’t start.”
You looked up at him through wet lashes, lips parted, innocent and knowing all at once.
“Why not?” you murmured, kissing just below his ribs. “You let me fall apart for you. Let me return the favor.”
His breath hitched. He was already hardening again—and he knew it.
You kissed lower.
And lower.
And then you were kneeling—naked, dripping, your knees cushioned by the shower mat, hands already stroking his length back to full, pulsing attention.
He groaned.
“Fuck. Fuck, you look so good down there—”
You wrapped your fingers around his cock, squeezing gently, lips brushing against the flushed head of his cock. He jerked in your hand, and you hummed.
“I never told you my last kink,” you said sweetly, licking a slow stripe along the underside.
His hand hit the wall above your head, unsteady. “Yeah? What is it, baby?”
You smiled up at him—dark, sinful, soft.
“I don’t have a gag reflex.”
Chan let out a noise—guttural, choked, wrecked.
“Jesus Christ.”
And then you took him in.
All of him.
Slow. Deep. Deliberate.
His mouth fell open, eyes rolling back as you swallowed around him, your throat relaxing on instinct.
“Oh my fucking God—” he rasped, hips jerking forward before he caught himself, panting hard, water cascading down his back.
You pulled off with a wet pop, licking the tip before dragging your tongue along the base and sucking him back in just as deep.
He moaned—loud, shameless, one hand grabbing the back of your head while the other gripped the shower wall like a lifeline.
“Fuck, fuck, baby— you’re gonna kill me—”
You moaned around him in response, eyes half-lidded, hands stroking what your mouth couldn’t reach.
Every sound he made went straight to your core—deep and breathy and so needy, it felt like a reward just to listen.
“You’re unreal,” he groaned. “Fucking unreal—how is this even real—”
You let your eyes flutter closed, increasing the rhythm, hollowing your cheeks, spit and water dripping from your chin as you let him fall apart above you.
And when his stomach clenched—when his thighs started to tremble—you just held him tighter, took him deeper, and moaned his name from the back of your throat.
Not until his hips jerked one final time and you tasted all of him—thick and hot and desperate on your tongue.
He roared your name, damn near sliding down the wall as his whole body seized, then shook.
When he finally opened his eyes again, you were smiling, swallowing, licking your lips like you’d just won.
Chan stared.
Then laughed—ragged, disbelieving, utterly in awe.
“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he panted, hauling you up into his arms again. “Mark my words.”
You kissed his jaw, cheeky. “Then what a way to go.”
He groaned, forehead against yours.
“We’re not sleeping tonight.”
And you knew he meant it.
—
The water was still warm when Chan reached for a towel and wrapped it around your body, gathering you into him like you were something precious. Like you might disappear if he blinked.
You were trembling a little—not from cold, but from the comedown. The wild pace of everything. The stretch, the heat, the orgasm that had left your legs like jelly. The way he’d held your gaze while wrecking you on the couch like you weren’t his best friend—like you were already his everything.
Now? Now he was silent. Gentle.
A hand on the back of your head, stroking slowly.
“You okay?” he asked, voice raw and deep, brushing his lips to your temple.
You nodded into his chest. “Mhm. Just… processing.”
He smiled faintly, lifting you into his arms again—still naked, still wet—and carried you to his room without another word. The towel stayed wrapped around you, his hands never letting go, like it physically pained him to stop touching you.
He laid you on his bed with careful hands, kissed your forehead, then disappeared for a moment—returning with your hoodie, a fresh pair of his boxers, a warm water bottle, and a glass of juice.
You stared at him, body curling toward his naturally as you laid there—wrapped in soft cotton, legs still aching in the best way. “So… this really happened.”
Chan tilted his head, gaze steady. “Are you regretting it?”
“No,” you whispered, too fast. Then, “Are you?”
His brow furrowed like you’d offended him. “Baby. I’d do it all over again right now if you weren’t already shaky.”
You flushed, heat blooming up your neck. He noticed it. Of course he did. His thumb brushed the side of your throat, reverent.
“Still can’t believe that’s your kink,” he murmured, soft and possessive and wrecked. “You have any idea what that did to me?”
You licked your lips, looking away. “…There’s more.”
Chan’s eyes darkened. “Oh, you’re gonna tell me.”
You tried to hide your smile. “We never talked about sex in ten years and now you wanna hear all my kinks?”
“Now I need to,” he replied, curling his hand behind your neck and pulling you closer again. “You let me touch you like that. Let me own you. You think I can go back to pretending you’re just my best friend after that?”
His mouth was so close. His fingers were back to stroking your skin, down your back, over the dip of your waist.
Your voice came out quieter now. “I’ve never given up control that easily.”
“I know.” He cupped your jaw, kissed the corner of your mouth. “And I’ll never take that for granted.”
You met his eyes. “But I’d do it again.”
His breath stuttered. And then he kissed you—soft this time, lingering.
“You have no idea how hard I’m holding back right now.”
“I can tell,” you whispered, glancing down at the way his towel was starting to shift.
He growled against your skin, pressing his forehead to yours. “This changes everything.”
You nodded slowly. “But it doesn’t ruin anything.”
“No,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “It just means we’ve got… ten years to make up for. And I plan to.”
You smiled. “So… you’re mine now?”
Chan pulled back just enough to lock eyes with you.
“No, baby,” he said with a dangerous smirk. “You’re mine. And I don’t share.”
Your stomach fluttered. You pushed at his chest, bratty. “Mm. You weren’t this cocky when we were just friends.”
He climbed over you again, straddling you on the bed with that wolfish glint in his eye.
“You never let me touch you like this before. Now I know what you sound like when you moan my name?”
He leaned down, voice dark, hungry.
“You have no idea how cocky I’m about to get.”
And just like that, you knew.
You’d opened Pandora’s box.
And Chan had no plans to close it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Authors note: AAAAAHHHHHHH!!! God this was sooo juicy to write!!!! I am so sorry for my absence guys, theres been so much on my plate… I’ve actually started an original book that i plan to publish some time in the future. 🤭 But I’m here now and ill post more frequently. As for all the requests? I SEE EVERYTHING, I WILL WORK ON THEM!! Just hold on for me babes!
Anyway, if you enjoyed this one, leave me a comment, like and reblog guys!! My taglist is open so let me know if you want to be added or removed!
warnings: unprotected sex; fingering; handjob; oral sex (f!receiving); dirty talk; praising; dry humping; orgasm denial; edging; begging; squirting; mirror sex; spit kink; reader is a switch (and a superwoman because omg)
summary: after the first time, the boys argued about who would be the one to give you the biggest orgasm, and you all came to the same conclusion: they all have to have a turn with you
day 25 of The 25 Days of Stay
this is the sequel of the wheel of pleasure
a/n: THE WHEEL IS BACK MY LOVES 🥳 and also i can't believe this is the last fic of my christmas event so THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL YOUR LOVE AND SUPPORT I HOPE YOU LOVED IT AS MUCH AS I DID 🩷
a/n2: i edited and proofread it quickly, so there might be some mistakes and notes to myself that i write while editing (like "change this part" or "add this here" or "continue with this") that i missed, so if you see them... no you didn't (joking 😊)
it’s christmas morning, and the dorm feels warmer and livelier than it usually does. maybe it’s because all eight boys are here and piled into the living room, blankets everywhere, holiday music playing too loud, and a lot of gifts surrounding all of you. you drop down between them, still half-asleep, and someone immediately hands you a mug of hot chocolate.
“merry christmas”, chan says, his dimples showing, his hair a mess.
the others echo him in different versions - deeper voices, half-mumbled voices, excited ones. you all open your gifts together, taking turns, teasing each other, laughing when hyunjin dramatically gasps over his gift like it’s the end of the world.
minho pretends he doesn’t like the cat-themed socks you got him, but he doesn’t let anyone else touch them. seungmin sits close enough that your knees bump every time he shifts. felix keeps smiling at you every time you unwrap something, like he’s waiting for your reaction.
it’s easy, comfortable. soft laughter, jokes here and then and eight pairs of eyes that linger on you a little longer than normal. you feel it. the unspoken thing. the aware thing. the thing you’ve all been dancing around for months.
when the last gift is opened, everyone relaxes, sitting back, just enjoying the christmas morning and seeing everyone’s gifts. when the room turns into a gentle space, you slip away with a quiet “i’ll be right back” that no one questions, they just watch you go.
you close your bedroom door behind you and take a breath, letting the silence settle. then, you reach under your bed and pull out the small box you hid there a week ago. the last gift - not exactly for you only, it’s for them too, or at least for the one that gets to take it off of you.
the set is lace, delicate, detailed, undeniably meant for being seen, admired, desired. you run your fingers over it, nerves fluttering in your stomach, excitement warming your skin. you already had a taste of this some time ago, but you need more. you need all of them. just like they need you.
when you put it on, the air in the room changes. the lace settles against your skin like it was made only for you, soft and delicate in a way that makes you shiver when you adjust the straps. you take a slow breath and move to the mirror, the reflection hitting you all at once.
the set hugs every curve, tracing the lines of your body with thin, teasing patterns that leave just enough to the imagination. the colour warms your skin, makes your figure look softer in some places, sharper in others.
you look… unreal.
not the idol version of yourself, not the “ninth member” everyone sees on stage, but the version of you that’s been simmering quietly underneath, waiting for the right moment to step forward. confident. irresistible. someone who knows exactly what she’s offering and exactly how much they’re going to want it.
heat blooms in your chest as you take yourself in. you feel powerful and undeniably desired, even before any of the boys has seen you.
you smooth the lace one more time and open your door.
the moment you walk into the living room and they look up, the atmosphere shifts. eight heads turn at once. eight mouths fall open, like the words they need simply won’t come out. their eyes widen, soft gasps break the quiet, and suddenly the room is still, completely, utterly still.
changbin actually forgets how to blink. chan sits up straighter. felix’s freckles seem to darken as his face goes red. seungmin swallows hard enough that you hear it. you don’t know which reaction turns you on more.
you walk forward slowly, each step deliberate. every pair of eyes follows you like they’re caught, like it’s the only thing they can do.
“so”, you say, your voice steady and confident, “are you ready for your next gift?”
none of them answer. they can’t. they just stare, completely undone, as you bite your lip. you can’t lie and say you’re not enjoying the effect you have on them.
“use that damn wheel to decide the order”, you say, amusement threading through your voice, “you already know what we’re gonna do”
you let the words hang in the air, thick with meaning, and then, you turn around, walk back to your bedroom, and close the door behind you. you sit on the edge of the bed, then lie back slowly, sinking into the pillows, your heart beating in a steady, excited rhythm.
you lie there, waiting for whichever one of them the wheel chooses first. you let your fingers rest lightly on your stomach, following the lace’s outline as your thoughts drift, uninvited, to the last time you all played this game.
the memory settles over you slowly, warm and breathless. the way they looked at you that night comes back vividly. the hesitation, the tension. you remember the way they hovered close during each of their turns with you, their voices dropping, their eyes flicking to you like they couldn’t help themselves. the way your name sounded when spoken from different mouths, different tones. the way all of them teased you, the way all of them made you come again and again.
that same feeling stirs now as you feel yourself getting wet, a quiet anticipation that settles low and warm, buzzing under your skin. last time was completely new, this time you know what you’re playing with, or at least you think you do.
and you don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.
the anticipation pushes you upright before you realise you’re moving. you stand and walk towards the mirror, drawn to your own reflection. you tilt your head, checking the angle, the lines, the way your hair falls over your shoulders. your heartbeat ticks louder at the sight of yourself, at the knowledge of what’s coming.
and that’s when you hear it, the soft click of your door unlocking.
you turn just as it opens. hyunjin steps inside and the door clicks shut behind him. his eyes are fixed on you immediately, like he can’t look anywhere else even if he tries. just like the last time, he’s wearing nothing but his boxers. his hair is slightly messy and his breath unsteady like he ran here the second the wheel stopped.
you smile, slow and knowing, letting your fingers rest on your hip, accentuating the lace.
“hi”, you say, your voice soft but unmistakably teasing.
his eyes flick up to yours, dark, warm, hungry, already undone.
“you’re… you’re kidding”, he says, taking a step closer to you without realising it, “you look even better than last time, i-”, he cuts himself off, his jaw flexing, his breath catching as he takes in the full view, closer this time.
you take a single step towards him, stopping just close enough for him to feel the heat of your body.
“i see the wheel picked you first again, hyunjin”, you say, tilting your head.
he lets out a quiet, shaky laugh, rubbing his palm against the back of his neck.
“yeah, i didn’t even wait for the others to react. i just-”, his eyes trail down and back up, slow, “you look unreal, y/n. seriously. i don’t… i don’t even know where to look”
you raise a brow, amused, “everywhere is an option”
he swallows hard, audibly.
“you’re doing this on purpose”, he says, stepping even closer, “standing here, looking like this”
“of course i am”, you say, letting your fingers trace lightly down your body, the lace shifting with the movement, “isn’t that how a gift works?”
he breathes out a curse under his breath, running a hand through his hair as if he’s trying to stop himself from grabbing you immediately.
“you’re gonna kill me”, he says, his voice low and desperate.
you lean in just a little, close enough that your lips brush his jaw, “we should have some fun first”
his breath stutters, he’s helplessly wrecked by the suggestion. you pull back half a step, just enough to watch his reaction, his eyes staying fixed on your body. he doesn’t know what to say, he can’t find the words, so you continue.
“okay then…”, you say, your voice low, teasing, “come and get your gift”
his mouth meets yours before you can say anything else, kissing you like he’s been holding back since the last time you did this. his hands move to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and the moan he lets out when your bodies touch goes straight through you.
you kiss him back just as eagerly, your hands sliding up his bare shoulders, feeling the heat of his skin under your palms. he shivers when your fingertips brush the nape of his neck, and his lips part against yours, deepening the kiss instantly.
his hand glides up your back, tracing the curves of your body, tracing the new lace with his fingers. when his thumb strokes just under the edge of it, his breath catches against your mouth.
“you’re seriously trying to kill me”, he says between kisses, his voice warm and ragged.
“maybe”, you say, letting your lips brush the corner of his jaw before returning to his mouth, kissing him harder.
he groans and his other hand cups your jaw, angling your face up to him. his kiss turns deeper, firmer, like he wants to devour every sound you make.
you feel his chest rise sharply against yours, the heat of him bleeding through the thin lace and the thinner air between you. he moves you back a step, then another, until your spine meets the dresser in your room.
your fingers tangle in his hair, and he breaks the kiss just long enough to look at you. his lips are parted, slightly swollen, his eyes dark and blown wide.
“you look so good like this”, he says, “in that lace, like you’re waiting for me to do something”
you lean in, your lips ghosting his, teasing him.
“then don’t keep me waiting”
and that’s all it takes.
he kisses you again, harder this time, his body pressing against yours, his breath mixing with yours, his hands roaming with growing urgency as the room fills with the sound of shared, shaky breaths and your lips meeting again and again, deeper each time.
his mouth trails down to your jaw, then to your neck. his hands slide up your sides again, his fingers tracing the lace until they find the clasp of your bra. the pads of his fingers brush your skin, sending a sharp tremor through your chest. he feels it and a soft, breathy laugh escapes him.
“you’re shaking”, he says, almost proud.
“you’re the one doing that”, you say.
his smile curves, small and wicked. the clasp gives easily under his touch, and he slides the straps off your shoulders one at a time. when the bra finally falls away, his hands move to your waist, his thumbs stroking circles against your skin, drawing you closer as he leans in again, kissing you harder, deeper.
“now”, he whispers against your lips, his voice thick, “let me really look at my gift”
his gaze drops, taking in the sight of you bare from the waist up. your breasts rise and fall with each quick breath, your nipples already hardening under the cool air and the heat of his stare.
hyunjin’s eyes darken, a low hum vibrating in his throat as he leans in closer. his lips find your neck again, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin, his teeth grazing lightly at first, then nipping harder, leaving faint red marks that make you gasp.
“fuck, you’re gonna be such a good girl for me, i just know it”, he says against your pulse point, his tongue flicking out to soothe the bite before he sucks harder, drawing a whimper from your lips.
his hands slide up your sides, his hands cupping your breasts now, his thumbs brushing over your nipples in firm circles that send jolts straight to your core. you arch into his touch, your body begging for more as he pinches one nipple between his fingers. he pulls back just enough to watch your face, his breath hot on your collarbone.
“you are perfect”, he says, his voice husky, before he lowers his mouth.
he takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard while his tongue swirls around the tip. your hands fly to his hair, your fingers tangling in it as you tug lightly, the pull making him groan against your skin. he switches to the other breast, sucking, biting until your knees weaken and your cunt throbs with need.
“hyunjin”, you say, the sound half plea, half moan, as he bites down just hard enough to sting, then soothes it with a flat lick of his tongue.
he looks up at you through his lashes, his eyes gleaming with mischief and hunger, his lips shiny from your skin.
“you like that? my teeth on you?”, he asks you, pinching both nipples now, twisting gently to draw out another sharp gasp.
“yes, oh god, yes”, you say, your hips moving restlessly.
the lace of your panties clings damply to your folds, the friction teasing but not enough. his hands trail down your ribs, over your hips, hooking into the waistband of your panties but not pulling yet. instead, he sinks to his knees in front of you, the movement graceful and predatory, his face level with your stomach now.
hyunjin’s hands grip your thighs, spreading them slightly as he presses kisses along your abdomen, his lips soft at first, then firmer, his tongue dipping into your navel before trailing lower.
“so pretty, like this for me, because i’m the only one that gets to take this off of you”, he says, nuzzling the skin just above your panties, his breath ghosting over the lace and making you shiver.
he kisses down one thigh, his teeth scraping the inner skin, then the other, alternating sides until your legs tremble and you’re gripping the dresser for support. looking up at you, his eyes lock onto yours, intense and unwavering.
“keep your eyes on me”, he says, more like orders you, his fingers tracing the edge of the lace where it meets your hip.
he leans in, his lips brushing the fabric right over your clit, kissing the damp material as if it’s your skin itself. the pressure makes your clit pulse, and you moan, the sound echoing in the room. he smiles against you, then parts his lips, sucking the lace into his mouth, his tongue pressing through to lap at your folds indirectly.
“f-fuck- hyunjin”, you gasp, your hand moving to his shoulder, your nails digging in.
he bites the fabric, tugging it with his teeth before releasing, the wet spot growing under his assault. his hands slide up your thighs, his thumbs hooking under the edges now, but he doesn’t remove them yet.
instead, he sucks harder on the lace, the outline of your cunt visible through the sheer material, his tongue flicking insistently until you’re rocking against his face, your moans spilling freely. your eyes stay on his as he watches you unravel.
“you’re soaking through this”, he says, his voice muffled but smug, before biting the lace again.
the friction makes you cry out, your hips bucking forward as pleasure coils tight in your stomach. he groans in response, the sound vibrating through the fabric to your core, his hands finally yanking the panties down your legs in one swift motion. you step out of them, kicking them aside, now fully exposed to him.
hyunjin doesn’t waste a second. still on his knees, he grips your ass, pulling you closer as his mouth dives in. his tongue flattens against your cunt, licking a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, tasting your arousal with a hungry hum.
“fuck, you have no idea… how hard it was for me last time”, he says, his eyes never leaving yours as he circles your clit with his tongue, then sucks it between his lips, “how much i wanted to have you like this but i couldn’t because i could only use my fucking fingers”
your thighs shake, the dresser creaking under your weight as you lean back, but you force yourself to hold his gaze, the intimacy making every sensation sharper. he eats you out like he’s starved, his tongue thrusting into your hole before returning to lap at your clit, his lips sealing around it.
one of his hands stays on your ass, his fingers digging in to hold you steady, while the other slides up your thigh, teasing your entrance with two fingers but not entering yet, just circling, gathering your wetness.
“moan for me, y/n”, he says between licks, his voice rough, “let me hear how good this feels”
you do, the sounds pouring out as he devours you, his tongue flicking fast now, then slow and deep, his teeth grazing your clit just enough to make you jolt. pleasure builds relentlessly, your cunt clenching around nothing, so close to the edge that your vision blurs.
“h-hyunjin… i-i’m gonna come”, you whine, your hips grinding against his mouth, chasing the release.
but then he stops, pulling his tongue away, his lips leaving your throbbing clit with a teasing kiss. he stays on his knees, breathing heavily, his eyes locked on yours with a wicked glint as your body hovers on the brink, denied and aching.
hyunjin stands up slowly, his hands trailing up your thighs. he moves closer, his chest brushing your breasts, your nipples grazing his skin. he cups your face and crashes his mouth against yours. the kiss is filthy, urgent, his tongue sweeping in, sharing the taste of your arousal mixed with his saliva. you moan into him, tasting yourself on his lips, making your cunt clench emptily.
“feel that?”, he says against your mouth, nipping your lower lip, “that’s you, all over me. so fucking wet for me”
his words vibrate through you, and you nod, helpless, your hands clutching his shoulders, your nails scraping down his back. the kiss deepens, your tongues tangling as he devours you, one hand sliding into your hair to tug lightly, angling your head for better access.
he breaks away just enough to hoist you up, his arms lifting you effortlessly onto the dresser. it is cool against your ass, a stark contrast to the fire building inside. your legs part instinctively, wrapping around his waist, pulling him between your thighs. hyunjin groans at the contact, his cock straining against his boxers, rubbing against your slick folds through the fabric.
“god, you’re desperate”, he says, his eyes half-lidded as he watches you squirm, “need me inside you already?”
“please”, you moan, your fingers threading through his hair now, tugging him back for another kiss.
he nods, but his hand drifts lower, sliding between your legs. two fingers part your folds, teasing your entrance before pushing in slowly, curling inside you. you gasp into his mouth, the stretch amazing after his tongue, your hips rocking to meet his thrusts. he moves his fingers steadily, his thumb circling your clit in lazy loops, building the pressure again.
“fuck… you’re so tight”, he says, his other hand kneading your breast, pinching your nipple, “you’re gonna feel so good around my cock. you want that? want me to fuck you right here?”
his fingers move, hitting that spot inside making you cry out, your legs tightening around him, your heels digging into his lower back.
“yes, f-fuck… hyunjin, fuck me”, you beg him, your voice breaking on a moan as he adds a third finger, stretching you further, his thumb pressing harder on your clit.
the dresser rattles faintly with your movements, bottles falling, but you don’t care. he kisses down your jaw, sucking a mark into your neck while his fingers move faster, slick sounds filling the room alongside your breaths and moans. your hand slips from his hair to his neck, holding him close as pleasure coils tighter, but he senses you’re climbing too fast.
“not yet”, he says, withdrawing his fingers, leaving you whining in protest. he smirks, bringing them to his mouth, sucking them clean while holding your gaze, “you taste as sweet as the last time, but i need to be inside you now”
he shoves his boxers down, freeing his cock. it springs out, thick and veined, the tip already leaking precum. you lick your lips at the sight, but he’s impatient, gripping your hip to line himself up. the head nudges your entrance, slicking through your wetness before he thrusts in, inch by inch, filling you completely.
“fuck… you’re so big”, you moan, your head falling back.
your walls flutter around him, adjusting to the size, and he pauses, buried deep, his forehead pressed to yours.
“you okay?”, he asks, his voice strained, his hand stroking your thigh.
“yeah, m-move”, you say, your legs locking tighter around his waist, pulling him even closer.
he starts thrusting, his hips snapping against yours with building force. the dresser thuds against the wall, your breasts bouncing with each impact, and hyunjin’s mouth finds one nipple, sucking hard as he fucks you.
“like that, huh? my cock hitting deep?”, he says, releasing your nipple, his hand replacing his mouth to squeeze and roll the peak.
you nod frantically, one hand in his hair, the other clawing at his neck, feeling his pulse race under your fingers.
“moan louder, come on, let me hear you”, he says, angling his hips to grind against your clit with every thrust.
“hyunjin, oh god… so good”, you cry, the friction overwhelming, pleasure spiking as he rubs your clit with his thumb again, matching the rhythm of his cock.
your cunt squeezes him, drawing a guttural groan from his throat. he kisses you messily, all teeth and tongue, swallowing your moans as he pounds harder, the slap of skin on skin echoing. your legs tremble around him, but you don’t let go. his free hand grips your ass, lifting you for better leverage, and the new angle makes him hit that spot relentlessly.
“you’re clenching so tight… you’re gonna make me come”, he says, his breath ragged against your lips, his thrusts erratic now.
“together, p-please, come with me”, you say, your nails raking his scalp, pulling his hair just hard enough to make him hiss.
he nods, capturing your mouth in a kiss, your tongues together as the coil snaps. your orgasm crashes over you, waves of heat pulsing through your core, as you moan into him.
hyunjin follows seconds later, burying himself deep with a choked groan, spilling hot inside you, his body shuddering against yours. you both pant, your foreheads touching, his cock twitching as he rides out the last pulses. slowly, he softens, but doesn’t pull out yet, holding you close, his hands gentle now on your breasts, his thumbs soothing your nipples.
“fuck, that was intense”, he murmurs, kissing your swollen lips softly, a lazy smile curving his mouth. you hum in agreement, your legs loosening but still draped around him.
he eases back just enough to look at you. his hands slip from your chest to your waist, steadying you as he takes one step away. when he slips out, a wet sound follows his movement, his cum dripping down your thigh. you shiver and he notices immediately.
“come here”, he says.
he bends, his arms sliding under your thighs and back, lifting you off the dresser. you curl into him on instinct, your hands resting against his shoulders as he carries you across the room. he lays you down on the bed with a tenderness that contrasts beautifully with how desperately he’d touched you seconds before.
a sheet slips over you when he pulls it up, warm against your skin, just like the last time. his eyes scan your face, checking every flicker, every breath.
“you okay?”, he asks softly, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your cheek.
you give him a small, satisfied smile, “i’m good. really, really good”
“you sure you’re ready for the rest? because well… they’re all waiting out there like it’s their turn at heaven, which now that i’ve had it… it really is”
you laugh quietly, your fingers grazing the back of his hand, “i’m good, i’m ready”
he dips down then, capturing your mouth in a kiss. you can tell that he wants more, that he’s still hungry for you, but he knows he has to let you go. his thumb strokes your jaw as his lips move with yours, deepening just a bit before he finally pulls back.
“i’ll send the next one in”, he whispers, letting his forehead rest against yours for a second longer, “and… good luck”
you roll your eyes playfully, “i think i’ll be okay”
his quiet laugh is warm and breathless. he gives your lips a quick peck, stands up, giving you one last long look before he puts his boxers on again. he goes to the door and opens it just enough to slip out and close it behind him.
silence settles.
you lie there, the sheet draped loosely over your bare body, the warmth of hyunjin still clinging to your skin. your pulse steadies, then builds again with anticipation. you stare up at the ceiling for a moment, catching your breath, letting it all sink in.
your mind drifts back to the last time you played this game, how different it felt then. the nerves. the newness. the way each of them had hesitated before you all started this.
this time, there’s no hesitation, only hunger and the echo of that night where one by one they’d left you shaking, breathless, blissed-out in ways you hadn’t expected. you adjust the sheet slightly, your legs brushing together, your heartbeat picking up again.
you’re ready.
and that’s when the door opens again.
minho steps inside like he owns the room. no hesitation, no pause, just a quiet push of the door and the soft click behind him. he’s in nothing but his boxers, his hair slightly mussed, his chest rising and falling with a controlled breath that gives him away - he’s excited too, even if he pretends otherwise.
his eyes drop to the sheet draped over you and stay there for a moment too long. then, he scoffs under his breath, smirking.
“well”, he says, walking straight towards the bed, “you look a lot better than you did last time i got you”
you raise an eyebrow, “excuse me?”
he stops at the edge of the mattress, leaning down slightly, his smirk deepening.
“don’t act innocent. last time i came in, you were a wreck already. i think you’d lost count by then”
heat blooms in your cheeks - and lower - but your smile is quick and sly.
“that’s because you were, i don’t know… much later then. this time you’re second. don’t get cocky”
“me? cocky? sweetheart, i’m just stating facts”, his laugh is soft, amused, entirely unforgivable.
you sit up a little, letting the sheet fall strategically, and his eyes follow the movement immediately, his stare hungry, sharp. you tilt your head.
“facts like what?”
he steps closer, one knee sinking into the mattress as he climbs onto the bed without asking, without waiting, like he has every right to be there.
“like…”, he says, bracing one hand beside your hip, leaning in, “you’re less ruined right now, which means i get you fresh this time”, his lips brush your jaw, not quite a kiss, “and that means i can do even better”
you scoff, but your breath catches.
“oh, please. you think you’re that powerful?”
“i know i am”, he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes.
you roll your eyes, but your pulse betrays you.
“sure, keep telling yourself that”
“i don’t have to tell myself anything. you’re the one who practically melted last time”
he smirks, leaning closer until your noses almost touch. your breath hitches - not that you’d ever admit it - and your fingers slide up his forearm, slow and challenging.
“big words, minho”
his eyes flick to your mouth.
“prove them wrong”, he whispers.
you don’t give him the satisfaction of answering. instead, you pull him in by the nape of his neck, and the second your lips touch, the playful bickering melts into something hotter, heavier.
his mouth moves against yours like it’s the only thing he knows how to do. you kiss him back with the same heat, your hand tightening in his hair as he presses his body over yours, the sheet slipping lower, forgotten between you.
the kiss is hungry but controlled, you can feel the restraint vibrating through him, the tension of someone who knows exactly how to unravel you and is savoring the slow approach.
“yeah”, he says against your lips, his forehead brushing yours, “definitely fresh”
you laugh breathlessly into the next kiss, letting him settle over you, letting the heat rise again.
and the game continues, your tongues sliding together, minho’s lips firm and insistent. his body weight pins you lightly to the mattress, his chest brushing your breasts. you arch up instinctively, seeking more friction, and he hums low in his throat, the sound vibrating through your mouth as his hand cups the side of your face, his thumb tracing your jawline.
your hand roams down his back, your fingers splaying over the muscles there, feeling them flex under your touch. your nails scraping lightly along his spine as you dip lower, hooking into the waistband of his boxers. you tug them down with deliberate slowness, savoring the way his breath hitches against your lips. minho doesn’t break the kiss, just deepens it, his tongue sweeping in to claim more as you push the fabric past his ass, exposing the firm curve of it to the cool air of the room.
“y/n”, he says into your mouth, shifting his weight to help you shove the boxers lower, kicking them off with a muffled curse when they catch on his ankle.
now he’s bare against you, his hard cock pressing hot and heavy along your thigh, twitching with need. you wrap your leg around him, pulling him closer, and he groans softly, his hips rocking forward to slide against your slick folds. you break the kiss just enough to speak, your lips brushing his with every word, your voice low and teasing.
“last time... you were in control”, you say, nipping at his bottom lip as his mouth chases yours, refusing to let the contact fully break, “with my vibrator... making me come so hard i couldn’t think”
your hand slides up to tangle in his hair, tugging lightly to keep his face close. he kisses you harder in response, his tongue flicking against yours, but you continue, words tumbling out between the wet sounds of your mouths meeting, “but now… there’s no toy. just you and me, and i’m the one in charge tonight”
minho chuckles darkly against your lips, the sound low and vibrating, but he doesn’t argue. instead, he captures your mouth again, sucking on your tongue until you whimper, your body melting under him.
with a surge of strength, you plant your feet against the mattress and roll, flipping your positions. he lands on his back with a surprised grunt, his eyes widening for a split second before darkening with amusement and heat. you straddle him swiftly, your knees bracketing his hips, your wet cunt settling against his cock, coating him in your arousal.
“oh, is that right?”, he says, his hands immediately finding your thighs, his fingers digging in just enough to leave faint marks.
you lean down, crashing your lips to his again, silencing any words. the kiss turns frantic now, your breasts pressing against his chest as you grind down, sliding your clit along his cock. he bucks up to meet you, a low moan escaping into your mouth, his grip tightening on your skin.
you keep the pace, rocking your hips in slow circles, feeling him throb beneath you, the head of his cock nudging your entrance with every pass. your hands brace on his shoulders, your nails biting into the muscle there as you kiss him deeper, swallowing his gasps.
“fuck, you feel good like this”, you say against his lips, breaking just to nip at his jaw, then returning to devour his mouth.
his tongue tangles with yours, hot and demanding, but you control the angle, the pressure, making him chase your lips when you pull back teasingly. the room fills with the smack of lips, the slick glide of your bodies.
minho’s hands roam up your sides, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts, but you capture his wrists, pinning them lightly above his head for a moment, showing your dominance. he lets you, smirking into the kiss, but his cock jumps against you, betraying his eagerness.
“i’m gonna ride you”, you whisper hotly, releasing his hands to trail yours down his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart, “make you beg for it”
he doesn't beg - that’s not minho - but his eyes lock on yours, intense and challenging, as you shift up slightly. one hand wraps around his base, stroking him firmly, your thumb swiping over the leaking tip to spread the precum. minho hisses, his hips jerking up, but you hold him steady, aligning him with your entrance. slowly, torturously, you sink down, the thick head stretching your walls with a delicious burn.
“oh f-fuck”, you moan into his mouth, kissing him messily as you take more of him, inch by inch, until he's fully seated inside you, your ass flush against his thighs.
the fullness is overwhelming, his cock pulsing deep within your heat, and you pause there, clenching around him. minho groans, his head falling back against the pillow, but his hands find your hips immediately, his fingers splaying wide over your curves.
“fuck... you’re so tight”, he says, his voice rough, pulling you down for another kiss as you start to move.
you roll your hips first, grinding in circles to feel him hit every sensitive spot inside, then lift up, slamming back down with a wet slap that echoes in the room. you set a steady rhythm, rising and falling, your breasts moving with each thrust, your nipples grazing his chest.
minho’s grip on your hips tightens, guiding you subtly at first, but you swat his hands away playfully, leaning forward to lie on his chest.
“my pace”, you say, kissing him hard.
he meets your thrusts from below, bucking up to drive deeper, a growl rumbling in his chest as your cunt flutters around him.
“fuck- yes, just like that”, he says against your lips, one hand sneaking up to cup your breast, his thumb rolling your nipple until it hardens under his touch.
you moan, the pleasure spiking, but you don't slow, riding him harder, the bed creaking beneath you. your clit grinds against his pubic bone, building that coil of heat low in your stomach. his other hand moves to your ass, spreading you slightly to feel himself slide in and out, the obscene sounds of your joining filling the air.
you lose yourself in the sensation, kissing him nonstop, your lips swollen and slick, your breaths coming in pants between the press of mouths.
“minho... you’re so deep”, you whimper, your nails raking down his chest, leaving red trails that make him hiss and thrust up harder. he captures your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently before soothing it with his tongue, his hands moving to your hips, urging you faster despite what you had told him.
but then, as you sit up and your pace quickens, chasing that edge, minho’s fingers dig in like iron, stopping your movements mid-thrust. you gasp, trying to rock down, but he holds you firm, his cock buried deep but unmoving, throbbing inside you. his eyes meet yours, dark and hungry, a smirk curling his lips.
“you really thought you were in control?”, he says, his voice low and dangerous, laced with that dominant edge you’re getting to know so well, “oh, y/n, you were so wrong”
his eyes lock onto yours, that smirk deepening as he holds you still. the stretch of him fills you completely, every pulse of his length sending sparks through your core, but his grip on your hips is unyielding, his fingers bruising in the best way. you whimper, trying to roll your hips down for friction, but he doesn’t budge, his body a solid anchor beneath you.
“thought you were in control this whole time?”, minho says, his voice a low rumble. his thumbs stroke lazy circles over your hipbones, contrasting the iron hold of his palms, “i’ve been in charge since i came in. i was just letting you have your little moment... pretending”
the words hit you like a spark, heat flooding your veins, your cunt responding instantly by fluttering around him, growing impossibly wetter. arousal slicks your inner thighs, dripping down to coat his base where you’re joined, the wetness making a soft, wet sound as you clench involuntarily.
“fuck”, you gasp, the sensation of your own slickness sliding along his cock making your head spin, desire coiling tighter in your stomach.
you try to move again, lifting your hips, desperate for that glide, that pressure against your walls, but minho’s hands clamp down harder, pinning you flush against him. his cock throbs deep inside, teasing you with its stillness, the head nudging your cervix making your toes curl.
“minho... please”, you whine, rocking forward as much as his hold allows, your clit brushing his pubic bone in a fleeting touch that only heightens the ache.
he chuckles, the sound dark and satisfied, his gaze never leaving your face as he watches every flicker of need cross your features. slowly, deliberately, one hand releases your hip, trailing up your inner thigh with feather-light touches that make your skin prickle.
his fingers ghost over the sensitive crease where thigh meets groin, so close to where you need him most, but not quite there. you squirm, trying to chase his hand, but his other hand holds you steady, forcing you to feel every inch of him unmoving inside you.
“so eager”, he says, his hand hovering just above your clit, the warmth of his palm radiating against your swollen folds.
you can feel the heat of him, and it makes you drip even more, your arousal trickling down to soak his balls. your walls spasm around his thickness, begging for motion, and he finally lets his fingers brush the outer lips of your cunt, spreading your wetness without mercy.
“look at you... leaking all over me”, minho says, his voice husky, his eyes darkening as he circles your entrance where he’s already buried, feeling the slick mess you’ve made.
then, agonisingly slow, his thumb finds your clit, pressing just the pad against the throbbing nub. he doesn't rub, just holds the pressure there, light and teasing, letting you feel the pulse of your own heartbeat in the sensitive bundle of nerves. a moan tears from your throat, raw and needy, your body arching into his touch despite his restraint.
“oh god, minho… m-move, please, i need...”, you trail off into another whimper as he starts to circle your clit, his thumb slick with your arousal.
the sensation of his cock stretching you full and unmoving and his thumb tormenting your clit has you trembling, your hips jerking in futile attempts to grind down. he keeps you locked in place, his hand around your waist like a vice, while his thumb works you over with expert slowness.
each pass over your clit sends jolts of pleasure racing up your spine, making your nipples tighten and your breath come in short, desperate pants. you try to rock against him again, chasing that building wave, but he stops every movement, his hips lifting just enough to keep you speared on him without giving you the thrust you crave.
“not yet, you will come when i say”, he whispers, leaning up to nip at your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin, “feel how wet you are for me? all because i let you think you had the power”
your cunt clenches hard at his words, more slickness flooding out, easing the way even though he’s not moving. the teasing circles on your clit speed up, his thumb pressing firmer now, flicking lightly over the peak before soothing it with broad strokes.
moans spill from your lips uncontrollably, your hands clutching at his shoulders, your nails digging into his muscles as the pleasure coils tighter, so close but held just out of reach.
“minho... i’m- fuck, it’s too much, let me move”, you beg him, your voice breaking, but he only smirks, his hand on your hip holding you down as his fingers pinch your clit, rolling it between them.
the sensation rips a cry from you, your body shuddering, your walls rippling around his cock in desperate pulses. you’re dripping steadily now, the wetness pooling at his base, making every tiny shift slick and filthy. he watches you fall apart under his control, his eyes hooded with lust, his own arousal evident in the way his cock twitches inside you, straining for release but held back by sheer will.
finally, after what feels like an eternity of teasing - your clit swollen and hypersensitive, every nerve alight - minho shifts beneath you. he plants his feet flat on the mattress, knees bending for leverage, both of his hands gripping your hips.
“alright”, he says, his voice rough with restraint, “now you get what you need, but remember, i’m in charge”
with a powerful thrust upward, he drives into you, the force slamming his cock deep, hitting that spot inside making you cry out, the sudden motion shattering the tease, pleasure exploding through you as he sets a brutal pace. his hips snap up relentlessly, each thrust bottoming out, his pubic bone grinding against your clit. you brace your hands on his chest, riding the waves as he fucks up into you.
“yes, fuck, just like that”, you moan, finally able to move with him, your hips meeting his thrusts in a frantic rhythm.
his cock drags along your walls, the head pounding your spot over and over until you're seeing white. minho’s hands guide you now, pulling you down hard onto him, his thumbs digging into your flesh as he controls your bodies.
he sits up, capturing one of your breasts in his mouth, his tongue licking your nipple before sucking hard, his teeth grazing the peak. the added sensation has you screaming, your cunt fluttering wildly around him, so close to the edge.
“come on, let go”, he moans against your skin, releasing your nipple before claiming your mouth in a messy kiss, your tongues tangling as he thrusts deeper. his hand slips between you again, his fingers finding your clit once more, rubbing firm circles.
his cock filling you, stretching you, and his fingers working your clit push you over. pleasure crashes through you, your orgasm ripping another scream from your throat as your walls convulse around him. slickness gushes out, soaking him further, your body shaking uncontrollably. minho breaks down with you, groaning into your mouth as he spills hot inside you, his cock pulsing with each rope of cum, filling you to the brim.
you collapse forward, falling against his chest in a boneless heap, your breaths ragged and synced. his arm wraps around you, his hand on your back, his other hand still between your legs, fingers lazily stroking your oversensitive clit through the aftershocks, drawing out soft whimpers from your lips. he presses a kiss to your temple, both of you trembling in the aftermath, connected and spent.
minho breathes against your hair and for a moment, it’s quiet, until he laughs softly. a low, smug, absolutely infuriating sound.
“so you really thought you were in control”, he says, his lips brushing your temple like he’s kissing the words into you.
you try to reply but your mouth opens and nothing comes out except a faint, breathless sound. you’re still trembling, your face buried in his shoulder, and his laugh deepens.
“mmhm, yeah”, he says, brushing a thumb over your cheek as he tilts your face up, “that’s what i thought”
you press your lips to his just to shut him up, or at least that’s the lie you tell yourself. the kiss is slow, needy in a way you can’t hide, and when he kisses you back, he does it like he knows exactly why you’re doing it.
“can’t talk?”, he whispers against your mouth, “but you were so loud a minute ago, you were screaming for me”
you glare at him, but it’s useless. your body feels like melted sugar, and he knows it.
“shut up”, you mumble, kissing him again, your hand weakly curling in the back of his neck.
“you really weren’t ready for me. admit it”, he grins against your mouth.
“never”
“liar”
you scoff, but you can’t even push him away properly, your arms are too heavy, your legs still unsteady. he notices, because he tilts his head and smirks like he’s studying his own masterpiece.
“look at you”, he says, brushing your hair back, “last time you were a wreck by the time i got to you. and now? second place and already ruined”
“i’m not ruined”, you say.
“sure”, he says, kissing the corner of your mouth once, slow and taunting, “keep pretending”
he shifts carefully, easing out of you and laying you back against the pillows. you sink into them instantly - your body grateful, your pride less so.
minho stands up, stretching lazily, and grabs his boxers from the floor. he glances back at you as he pulls them on, his eyes sweeping over your still-warm, still-flushed form under the sheet.
“you should see yourself right now”, he says, running a hand through his hair with a satisfied sigh, “completely done. and i know i could go harder”
you throw a pillow at him - or at least, you try. it barely leaves your hand.
he laughs, “adorable”
“i hate you”, you lie.
“no, you don’t”
he walks to the door, his hand on the knob, then turns back with one last wicked smile.
“rest up, you’re gonna need it”
you roll your eyes weakly, “fuck off”
“can’t”, he says cheerfully, opening the door, “someone else is waiting their turn”
and with a final smirk, he slips out, leaving you breathless, exhausted, and already warming at the thought of who will come through that door next. you just sit there in the warm, hazy stillness he left behind. your body feels heavy, overstimulated, sweetly undone.
your thighs shift slightly, and the sensation is… unmistakably messy - the lingering, heated mix of your own arousal and the traces both hyunjin and minho left behind on your skin. it’s warm, slick, a physical reminder of how thoroughly the game has already claimed you.
you reach to your nightstand and pull out a small stack of tissues. you take your time, wiping away the evidence of the two rounds, cleaning your inner thighs, your hips, anywhere their touch still lingers.
every brush of the tissue sends a faint aftershock through you and you can’t help but think about the rest of the boys and what they’re gonna do to you, and it turns you on even more, feeling yourself getting wet again.
once you’re clean, or at least as clean as you can, you toss the tissues into the small bin beside the bed and let yourself breathe again, sinking back into the pillows. the sheet rests lightly over your hips, your upper body bare, warm from the afterglow.
you exhale through your nose and then, a soft click, the door opening.
jeongin steps inside, and the moment he sees you there - your hair mussed, your breasts rising and falling - he freezes. his eyes go wide before he can stop himself. like hyunjin and minho, he’s wearing only his boxers, his chest flushed, his throat tight with a swallow he doesn’t hide fast enough.
“...oh”, he breathes, standing there like he’s forgotten how to move.
so shy, so sweet, just like when he entered your room the first time that day. and then the silk happened, and he had control of your body and you.
you offer the smallest smile, tilting your head.
“hi, innie”
he shuts the door behind him slowly, his gaze still locked on you, his voice barely a whisper.
“you look… you look incredible”
he steps closer, hesitant, but unable to resist you, the sight pulling him in like gravity.
“come here,” you say softly, lifting the sheet with a small gesture.
the invitation is all he needs. he climbs onto the mattress carefully, like he’s worried he’ll disturb you, settling beside you with knees sinking into the bed. he’s so warm, warmer than you expected, and when he sits next to you, his thigh almost brushes yours.
almost.
you close the distance deliberately and he inhales sharply. his eyes flicker down your body, then dart back up to your face, his cheeks tinting pink.
“you’re… wow”, he whispers, “i mean i-i already knew you looked good but um…”
he can’t finish the sentence. you don’t make him. you lean closer, your voice dropping into something lower, something that makes his breath stutter.
“jeongin”, you say, your fingers grazing his jaw, your thumb brushing the corner of his mouth, “come lie down with me”
he obeys instantly.
he lowers himself beside you, half on his side, half on his elbow, watching you like he’s trying not to stare too obviously but failing spectacularly. when you shift to face him, the sheet slips a bit lower on your waist, and his breath catches again.
“you okay?”, you smirk softly.
he lets out a tiny, embarrassed laugh.
“yeah, but umm… we could hear you”, he says, his voice small but honest, “in the living room. all of us”
“me?”, you blink.
he nods, his eyes flicking away for a moment.
“you. hyunjin. minho. the whole thing. and we-”, he stops, bites the inside of his cheek, then tries again, “it was hard, really hard, you know… not to do anything”
your smile sharpens, slow and dangerous, because you know exactly what he means.
“oh?”, you ask, moving closer, your lips hovering near the shell of his ear, “so you were all out there… listening?”
“yes”, his breath trembles.
“and you wanted to touch yourselves?”, you ask him.
“... yes”, his cheeks flush deeper.
you hum, pleased, moving your head to tilt his chin up with a finger, “but you didn’t”
“no”, his voice breaks slightly, “we waited”
good.
you move closer, closing the remaining space between your bodies. you’re not touching him fully, not yet, just close enough that he feels your warmth, your dominance settling over him like a slow, sweet pressure.
“well”, you say, letting your lips graze the corner of his mouth without kissing him yet, “you don’t have to wait anymore, innie”
jeongin’s eyes darken, wide and wanting.
“you’re finally here, with me”, you continue, your hand sliding up his chest, just enough pressure to make him swallow, “and you can do whatever you want…”
his breath shudders, his fingers clutching the sheets. you lean closer, your nose brushing his, your voice a whisper.
“like a good boy”
the sound he makes is soft, needy, involuntary.
you smile, then you finally kiss him.
it starts slow but the moment he feels your lips move against his, he melts into the kiss completely. his hand lifts, trembling slightly, settling on your waist as he kisses you deeper, warmer, his breath mixing with yours.
you shift closer, pressing your body to his, guiding him without force, without rush, just enough control for him to feel it. just enough for him to know he’s yours for this round. and he kisses you like he’s been waiting the entire time for his turn.
the kiss deepens, your lips parting as jeongin’s tongue tentatively brushes yours, seeking permission. you grant it, tilting your head to angle better, your hand cupping the back of his neck to pull him closer. his mouth moves with a growing hunger, no longer hesitant but eager. his fingers tighten on your waist, bunching the sheet between you, the thin barrier doing nothing to hide the heat building where your bodies press.
you break the kiss first, just enough to trail your lips along his jaw, feeling the rapid flutter of his pulse under your mouth.
“good boy”, you murmur against his skin, the words vibrating low and approving, “kissing me so well already. you’re doing such a good job, innie”
a shiver runs through him, his breath hitching as he nuzzles into your neck, his lips grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. he presses a soft kiss there, tentative at first, then bolder, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin.
“yeah?”, he whispers, his voice rough with need, his hand sliding up your side, his fingers splaying over your ribs.
“mmhm”, you hum, arching slightly into his touch, encouraging him.
it draws a quiet groan from him, his mouth opening wider against your neck, sucking gently at the curve where shoulder meets throat. the wet heat of his lips sends sparks down your spine, your nipples hardening as arousal stirs low in your stomach.
jeongin kisses lower, his teeth grazing lightly, not biting but nipping just enough to make you gasp. you can feel the hard line of his cock pressing into your thigh through his boxers, throbbing with restraint, but he doesn’t push for more. instead, he focuses on your neck, his lips trailing fire along your collarbone, his tongue soothing each mark he leaves.
“you’re making me feel so good”, you say, threading your fingers through his hair, guiding him gently, “keep going just like that, like my good boy”
he whimpers softly into your skin, the sound muffled as he kisses back up to the hollow of your throat, his breath coming in short, heated puffs. your body responds, warmth pooling between your legs, the earlier echoes of pleasure from the others making you slick and ready all over again.
you pull back slightly, catching his gaze. his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire, cheeks flushed a deep pink.
“jeongin”, you say, your voice husky, your thumb tracing his lower lip, “you were so good for me, waiting like that... you didn’t touch yourself even though you wanted to. so now... you can do whatever you want with me, that’s your prize”
his eyes widen, a flicker of surprise mixing with lust, but it shifts quickly to something bolder, hungrier.
“anything i want?”, he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, his hand stilling on your hip.
“anything”, you say, leaning in to nip at his earlobe, “i’m yours for this, so show me how much you want it”
jeongin doesn’t hesitate then. with a soft, determined exhale, he shifts his weight, his hands guiding you smoothly. you’re both on your sides, but he moves you, turning you until your back presses against his chest. the sheet tangles briefly around your legs, but he tugs it down, exposing your skin to the cool air of the room.
his body molds to yours from behind, solid and warm, his arm draping over your waist as he settles in close. one hand slides up immediately, cupping your breast. he squeezes gently at first, his thumb brushing over your nipple, feeling it harden under his touch.
“fuck”, he breathes against your neck, his lips returning there, kissing the spot he marked earlier.
his mouth sucks a fresh bruise into your skin while he rolls your nipple between his fingers, pinching just hard enough to draw a moan from your throat. you arch back into him, pressing your ass against the rigid heat of his cock, feeling it twitch through the thin fabric.
“yes, like that”, you say, your voice breathy.
his grip tightens on your breast, his fingers tugging your nipple before soothing it with his thumb. the sensation shoots straight to your core, slickness gathering as he moves to your other breast now, switching sides with the same deliberate care.
his kisses on your neck grow messier, his tongue on your sensitive skin, his teeth scraping lightly as he murmurs, “you feel so good... so soft”
his hand doesn't stay there long. it trails down your stomach, his fingers dancing over your skin, before moving lower. you feel the heat of his palm hovering over your clit, and you shift instinctively, but he takes control, hooking your leg with his.
“lift”, he whispers, his voice gaining an edge of command, just like the last time, and you obey, draping your thigh back over his hip, opening yourself wide.
now exposed, his fingers find your clit easily, swollen and aching from the buildup. he circles it slowly at first, just the pads of two fingers tracing the slick folds, gathering your wetness before pressing directly on it. the touch makes your hips buck, a gasp escaping as he rubs in firm, steady strokes.
“k-keep going, jeongin, p-please”
his fingers press firmer against your clit, making your thighs tremble, slickness coating his fingers. the pleasure builds sharp and insistent, your cunt clenching around nothing, aching for more than just his touch. you moan softly, pushing back against him, feeling the thick ridge of his cock strain against his boxers, hot and insistent against your ass.
“you’re so wet for me, y/n... does that feel good?”
“it feels so good, innie”, you breathe, your voice husky with need, your hand reaching back to grip his thigh, “you’re making me so wet. but i need more, i need you inside me”
jeongin groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your neck where his lips still linger, sucking another fresh mark into your skin.
“yeah?”, he says, his free hand sliding down to shove his boxers out of the way to free his cock, hard and leaking, the head brushing your thigh as he positions himself, nudging against your entrance from behind, “you want my cock, huh? want me to fuck you like this?”
“yes”, you moan, arching your back to give him better access, your leg still hooked over his hip.
he doesn't make you wait long. with a steady push, he sinks inside you, the thick length stretching you open inch by inch. your walls grip him tight, slick and welcoming after his teasing, pulling him deeper until his hips flush against your ass. he bottoms out with a shuddering breath, his cock throbbing inside you, filling every space.
“fuck, you’re so tight”, he says, his voice breaking as he adjusts to your walls clenching around him, “i-it feels amazing... like you were made for me”
you whimper at the fullness, your body also adjusting to him buried deep, every pulse sending sparks through your core.
“move”, you urge him, rolling your hips slightly to urge him on, “just… fuck me, jeongin”
he obeys with a low moan, his hand leaving your clit for a moment to grip your hip, holding you steady as he pulls back almost all the way out before slamming back in. the thrust jolts you forward, pleasure ripping through you as his cock drags along your inner walls, hitting deep.
he sets a rhythm then, steady and building, his hips snapping against your ass with each drive, the wet slap of skin echoing in the room. his other hand moves to your breast, pinching your nipple between his fingers, rolling it roughly as he fucks you.
“god, yes”, he says against your neck, his lips trailing hot kisses along your shoulder, his teeth grazing the skin, “you feel perfect... squeezing me so good”
his thrusts pick up speed, deeper now, the head of his cock nudging your spot, making you tremble. you moan loudly, matching his rhythm, pushing back to meet each thrust, your ass grinding against his pelvis.
“more”, you tell him through a gasp, your hand covering his on your breast, pressing it harder against you, “fuck, you’re doing so well. such a good boy for me, innie”
the praise makes him thrust harder, a growl escaping as he latches onto your neck again, sucking hard while his fingers twist your nipple, sending jolts straight to your clit. jeongin’s breaths come ragged now, moans spilling from his lips with every snap of his hips.
“you like that? my cock deep inside you?”, he asks, his voice strained, his hand sliding up from your hip to cup your chin gently but firmly.
he turns your head towards him, angling you so your eyes meet his, dark and intense, filled with raw desire. he crashes his mouth against yours, the kiss messy and deep, your tongues tangling as he continues to thrust into you from behind.
the angle lets him go even deeper, his cock spearing you relentlessly while your lips lock, your moans muffled against each other’s mouths. you taste the salt of his skin, feel the vibration of his groans as he kisses you harder.
“come for me”, he whispers against your lips during a brief break for air, his thrusts faltering slightly with how close he is, “i want to feel you come on my cock... clench around me while i fuck you”
“you too”, you reply, breathless, nipping at his lower lip before he dives back in, the kiss turning frantic, “come inside me, jeongin”
your words push him over, his eyes locking onto yours, wide and pleading, as he drives in one last time, hard and unyielding. jeongin breaks first, his cock swelling inside you, thrusting erratically as he spills hot ropes of cum deep inside you. you follow immediately, your cunt spasming around his length, your walls fluttering wildly as orgasm crashes through you. you cry out into his mouth, your body shaking as waves of heat pulse from your core.
“fuck, y-yes”, he moans against your lips, his eyes never leaving yours, the intensity making it all the more raw.
he kisses you again, your lips brushing and your tongues sliding lazily now, moans turning to soft whimpers as the aftershocks ripple between you. his thrusts slow to shallow grinds, milking every last bit of pleasure, cum leaking out around where he’s still buried inside you.
“so good”, you murmur into the kiss, your bodies pressed tight as you ride out the high together.
jeongin’s arms remain wrapped around you for a moment longer, his forehead resting against yours as both of you come down together. then he shifts carefully, slipping out of you and guiding you with a gentleness that feels almost shy again.
“wait”, he says softly.
he helps you turn around, slow and careful, until you’re lying on your back and he’s hovering over you, braced on one arm. his other hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin like he’s grounding himself through the touch.
he kisses you again, not desperate now, not frantic. you smile against his mouth, your fingers curling lightly into his hair.
“you know”, you say between kisses, “you surprised me again”
he pauses, blinking, “i did?”
“mmhm”, you tilt your head, letting him kiss along your jaw, “both times. you start all shy and sweet… and then suddenly you’re completely different”
his cheeks tint pink immediately, “i-”
“you become dominant”, you finish for him, amused, “confident, like you know exactly what you’re doing”, your thumb traces the line of his jaw, “but you’re still such a good boy when i praise you”
he lets out a small, embarrassed laugh, ducking his head to hide his face in your neck.
“don’t say it like that, please”, he says, though his smile gives him away.
“it’s true”, you tease gently, “you melt every time”
he lifts his head just enough to look at you.
“you just… do that to me”, he admits quietly, “i don’t know what it is. you make me want to be good for you, and then-”, he shrugs, bashful, “you make me forget how”
you laugh softly, pulling him into another kiss, slower still, full of warmth instead of fire. after a moment, he shifts off you reluctantly, reaching for his boxers and pulling them back on. he glances at you again, concern flickering across his expression.
“you okay?”, he asks, “really okay to keep going?”
you stretch slightly, smiling up at him, “i promise i’m good”
he exhales in relief, smiling back, “okay, just… checking”
you prop yourself up on your elbows, your eyes glinting with mischief.
“you think the others heard us?”
his ears go red instantly.
“what- i-”, he laughs, covering his face with his hand, “probably. yeah. definitely”
“poor things”, you say teasing, “having to wait”
he groans, laughing again as he walks towards the door, “you’re evil”
“you love it”
he pauses at the door, looking back at you with a soft smile that lingers just a little too long.
“i can’t wait to see you later”, he says quietly.
then he slips out, closing the door behind him, leaving you stretched out on the bed, warm, smiling. you stretch out against the sheets, your chest still rising a little faster than usual. you stare up at the ceiling, letting everything sink in - how surreal it is, how indulgent, how wanted you feel, how good it feels.
your fingers slide up into your hair, combing through it slowly, grounding yourself. you’re smiling without even realising it.
then you hear the quiet click of the door opening and closing again. you turn your head to see felix, his boxers not hiding his bulge, his hair a little messy, his eyes bright the moment they land on you. he doesn’t hesitate, he just smiles, wide and unmistakably fond.
“hi”, he says softly.
“hi, felix”, you reply, warmth blooming in your chest.
he crosses the room in a few easy steps and climbs onto the bed beside you, settling comfortably at your side. you’re on your back, and he turns towards you, resting on his elbows, his face hovering close. before you can say anything else, he leans in and presses a quick, sweet peck to your lips. it’s light, playful, and you laugh immediately.
“you’re in a good mood”
“of course i am”, he grins.
you tilt your head, amused, “you guys definitely heard us, didn’t you?”
he lets out a quiet laugh, his nose scrunching a little.
“yeah”, he admits easily, “we did”
“poor you”, you tease him, “having to wait out there”
“mmhm, i don’t know”, he says, leaning in to kiss you again, another quick peck, then another, “i kinda liked it”
“you did?”
“yeah”, he says, his voice warm and honest, “i knew i’d get my turn soon, so hearing you?”, he shrugs lightly, smiling, “it just turned me on even more”
you laugh again, your hand drifting to his shoulder as he moves to kiss you between words, “you’re unbelievable”
his forehead rests against yours for a moment, both of you breathing the same air, smiling like this is the easiest thing in the world. then he shifts closer, his body aligning more fully with yours, the playful energy mellowing into something deeper.
his next kiss isn’t rushed, but it’s fuller, his mouth moving slowly against yours, his lips warm and sure. one hand slides to your side, steady and affectionate, holding you there as the kiss lingers. when he pulls back to look at you, his eyes are soft but intent.
“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this”, he says quietly.
your pulse skips and before you can answer, he leans in again, kissing you deeper this time, less laughter now, more intention, his warmth settling over you. his tongue slips inside your mouth, tasting you slowly, exploring with a tenderness that contrasts the growing urgency building between you.
you melt into it, your body arching slightly off the bed as the kiss intensifies. a soft hum escapes him, vibrating into your mouth, and you respond with a quiet sigh, your hand sliding up his arm to grip his shoulder. the world narrows to the warmth of his body pressed close, the faint scent of his skin so close to you.
felix shifts then, his elbow digging into the mattress as he moves over you, settling on top of you without crushing you. he’s careful, mindful of not overwhelming you, but the solid press of his body pins you gently to the sheets.
you part your legs instinctively, making room for him, and he sinks lower, his hips aligning with yours, making you feel the growing hardness inside his boxers. the kiss breaks for a moment as he adjusts, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes dark with desire.
“felix”, you say, your voice breathy, but he silences you with another kiss, this one hungrier, his teeth grazing your lip just enough to send a spark through you.
his hands roam your body now - one cupping your jaw to hold you steady, the other trailing down your side, his fingers splaying over your ribs before dipping to the curve of your waist. you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, and he groans softly into your mouth, the sound raw and needy.
the making out turns fervent, your lips sliding wetly, your tongues tangling together desperately. you nip at his upper lip, earning a low chuckle from him that turns into a moan when you suck on his tongue. his body rocks against yours, the friction of his boxers against your bare skin teasing, building a slow burn. your nipples harden against his chest and you whimper into the kiss, your hips lifting to chase more contact.
felix pulls back just enough to trail his mouth along your jaw, peppering kisses there before moving to your neck. his lips are soft at first, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin just below your ear. you tilt your head back, exposing more of your throat, and he takes the invitation, his tongue flicking out to taste the pulse pounding there.
“you’re so beautiful”, he whispers against your skin, his breath hot, before he latches on gently, sucking with enough pressure to draw a loud moan from your lips.
the sound echoes in the room, unrestrained, and it spurs him on. his teeth graze the spot, firm enough to mark, leaving a blooming red spot. one hand comes up to tilt your head further, while his other hand slides lower, skimming over your stomach to your thighs. you gasp as his fingers find your clit, and he circles it slowly, the touch light but deliberate.
“felix- oh my god”, you moan out loud again, the noise tearing from your throat as he sucks another mark into your neck, right where your collarbone meets your shoulder.
his thumb presses firmer on your clit, rubbing in small, tight circles that make your hips buck up against his hand. pleasure coils tight in your core, sharp and insistent, and you clutch at his back, your nails digging into his skin.
he doesn’t stop at your clit for long. after a few moments of teasing that have you panting, his fingers dip lower, tracing your folds before pushing one inside you. your cunt clenches around it, wet and eager, and he adds a second finger easily, curling them to stroke that sensitive spot deep within.
the stretch is perfect, filling you just enough to ache for more, and he moves them slowly, his thumb flicking over your clit. all the while, his mouth devours your neck, alternating between sucking bruises and licking soothing paths over them, marking you as his in this moment.
your moans grow louder, uninhibited, filling the room as waves of heat build under your skin. you’re well aware of the others now, standing outside in the living room and how they can all hear you. you’re sure all of them must be hard and turned on at this point, and if you’re being completely honest, the idea turns you on even more than you should admit.
felix lifts his head, his lips shiny and swollen, his eyes locked on where his fingers disappear inside you. he watches intently, transfixed, as your cunt grips him, slick sounds accompanying each thrust of his hand.
“fuck, look at that”, he breathes, his voice low and husky, laced with awe and want, “you’re taking my fingers so well... you’re so wet and tight for me. i-it’s driving me insane, y/n”
his words wash over you like fire, the soft dirty talk in that sweet tone making your arousal spike. your walls flutter around his fingers, and you feel yourself getting even wetter, the praise hitting every nerve.
“felix, please”, you whine, your hips rolling to meet his hand, chasing the building pressure, “it’s too much... i-i need you”
he groans at your plea, his eyes darkening further as he leans in to capture your mouth again, the kiss messy and deep, all tongue and shared breaths. his fingers slow inside you, then still, and he pulls them out with a wet slide that makes you whimper in protest. but before you can complain, he brings them to your lips, hovering there expectantly.
“taste yourself”, he says against your mouth, his voice suddenly rough with want, “suck them clean for me”
you don’t hesitate, parting your lips to take his fingers in, your tongue swirling around them as you look up at him. the tangy flavor of your arousal floods your mouth and you hollow your cheeks, sucking eagerly while maintaining eye contact. felix’s breath hitches, his pupils blowing wide as he watches, a shudder running through him.
“god, that’s so hot”, he says, pulling his fingers free with a pop before crashing his lips against yours in a quick, fierce kiss. he tastes you on your tongue, moaning into it, the sound vibrating straight to your core, “you turn me on so much... i can’t believe how perfect you are”
the kiss breaks, and you spread your legs wider, planting your feet flat on the bed to tilt your hips up for better access. his hard cock presses against your cunt through the fabric, thick and insistent. he rocks forward experimentally, grinding down, and you both moan at the friction, the way his length slides along your folds, catching on your clit with each pass.
“yes, just like that”, you gasp, wrapping your legs around his waist loosely, pulling him closer.
the dry humping starts slow, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm that has his cock dragging over your sensitive skin, the boxers growing damp from your combined arousal. felix braces himself on his forearms, caging you in, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he thrusts against you, his breaths coming in hot pants against your ear.
you moan into his hair, your fingers tangling there, urging him on as the pressure builds again. his movements pick up, more insistent, the head of his cock nudging your entrance through his boxers with every grind, teasing what you want and need.
“felix... it feels so good”, you say, your voice muffled against his hair.
he lifts his head, capturing your lips in a sloppy kiss, your tongues sliding as your bodies move together, moans spilling into each other’s mouths - yours high and needy, his deep and rumbling.
the closeness is intoxicating, your skin slick with sweat, your hearts pounding in sync as you hump against him desperately, chasing that edge. your clit throbs with each slide of his cock, pleasure coiling tighter, and felix’s groans grow louder, his hips stuttering just a bit as he fights for control. you’re both lost in it, your breaths mingling, moans vibrating against lips that barely part.
just when you’re about to break, felix stops abruptly, pulling back from the grind that had you both teetering on the edge. you whine in frustration, your body throbbing with unmet need, your cunt aching from the denied release.
“why did you stop?”, you ask, your voice breathless and edged with desperation, your hands clutching at his shoulders as you try to pull him back down.
he hovers over you, his eyes dark and intense, a soft smile tugging at his swollen lips despite the strain in his expression.
“because i need you now”, he says, the words rough with want, his breath fanning hot over your face. before you can respond, he leans in and kisses you fiercely, his tongue claiming your mouth one more time, making you dizzy.
felix breaks the kiss with a groan, and his hands hook into the waistband of his boxers, shoving them down and off in one swift motion, freeing his cock. it springs up, thick and hard, the tip flushed red and glistening with precum, veins pulsing along the length.
he kicks the fabric aside and shifts back, lying down fully on the bed, his head hitting the pillows as he stretches out, his body tense with anticipation. his cock stands rigid against his stomach, inviting, and he reaches for you with both hands.
“come here”, he says, his voice low and husky.
confusion flickers through you at first but he doesn’t give you time to overthink. his hands grip your waist, pulling you up and moving you with gentle firmness. he turns you around so your back faces him, guiding your body until you’re straddling his hips in reverse, your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of him. you settle onto his stomach, his cock right in front of you, hard and insistent.
the position feels exposed, vulnerable, your cunt hovering near him, slick and empty. you hesitate, glancing over your shoulder at him, a flush creeping up your neck.
“felix... i’ve never done it like this before”, you admit softly, uncertainty lacing your words.
the angle is new - him flat on his back, you facing away, controlling the depth but not able to see his face. it makes your heart race, a mix of nerves and excitement twisting in your gut. his hands slide up your thighs reassuringly, his thumbs stroking soothing circles into your skin.
“it’s okay, y/n”, he says, his voice warm and steady, again full of that sunshine confidence that eases your doubts, “i’ve got you. just go slow at first, lower yourself onto me when you’re ready. it will feel amazing, i promise. do you trust me?”
his tone is tender, encouraging, and you nod, biting your lip as the reassurance melts away the last of your hesitation. you turn your attention forward, your eyes dropping to his cock, so close now that you can feel its heat radiating up to your core. it’s thicker than you expected up close like this, the head leaking steadily, and a fresh wave of arousal pulses through you.
unable to resist, you wrap your fingers around the base, feeling him twitch in your grip. your hand strokes him slowly at first, up and down, your thumb swiping over the slit to spread the slick precum. felix moans deeply, the sound rumbling from his chest, his hips bucking up slightly into your touch.
“f-fuck, yes... keep going”, he breathes, his voice strained, his hands tightening on your hips as you pump him firmer. the way he throbs in your hand makes your cunt clench emptily, wetness trickling down your thighs onto his stomach.
after a few more strokes that have him groaning louder, you guide him to your entrance. the head nudges against your folds, parting them easily, and you sink down slowly. his cock stretches you open, filling you completely in this new angle, the thickness pressing against your walls in ways that knock the air out of your lungs.
“oh god, felix”, you moan, your voice breaking as you bottom out, seated fully on him.
he echoes your moan, a deep, guttural sound that vibrates through both of you.
“you’re so tight... it feels incredible”, he says, his hands roaming up your back to steady you.
you pause there, adjusting to the fullness, the way his cock hits deeper from below, rubbing spots that send sparks up your spine. then you start to move, lifting your hips and dropping back down, riding him in a slow, experimental rhythm. wet sounds fill the room as your cunt grips him on every thrust, arousal coating his shaft and dripping onto his stomach.
felix lets you set the pace at first, his breaths coming in sharp bursts, but soon he props himself up on one elbow, just enough to reach around your body. one hand finds your breast, cupping it before pinching your nipple between his fingers, rolling it gently at first, then tugging harder to match your building speed.
“you’re doing so well”, he praises you, his voice husky and sweet, sending shivers down your spine.
then he sits up a bit more, his other hand snaking lower, his fingers finding your clit swollen and sensitive. he rubs it in firm circles, syncing with your bounces, the sensations overwhelming. overstimulation hits you like a wave, because your body is already primed from the dry humping, the fingering, everything before, and now this.
pleasure borders on too much, sharp and unrelenting, making your thighs quiver. you can’t hold yourself upright anymore and with a cry, you lean forward, bracing your hands on his knees for leverage, your ass lifting higher as you grind down harder.
the new angle drives his cock even deeper, the head dragging against your spot relentlessly, and you feel yourself dripping more, slickness soaking his skin and the sheet, the wetness audible with every slap of your bodies.
“look at you, taking me so perfectly”, felix says, his praise soft and adoring, his breath hot against your back as he sits up more to maintain contact, “you’re gripping me like you never want to let go... you’re so wet for me, you’re making me feel so good”
his words make you moan, heightening the intimacy, making your walls flutter around him. his fingers don’t let up on your clit, pinching lightly now, while his other hand kneads your breast, his thumb flicking the nipple in time with your movements.
you ride him faster, your hips snapping down, the coil in your stomach tightening unbearably. your moans spill from your lips unchecked, high and desperate, mingling with his deeper groans as he thrusts up to meet you, the bed creaking under the force.
“felix- i’m c-close, don’t stop”, you gasp, your nails digging into his knees, your body trembling as the overstimulation pushes you towards the edge.
“i’m right there with you”, he says, his voice breaking on a moan, his hand pressing harder on your clit. the praise keeps coming, sweet and filthy, “come for me, let me feel you squeeze my cock... you’re so beautiful like this, all mine now”
it tips you over, your orgasm crashes through you, your cunt convulsing wildly around him, milking his length as waves of ecstasy rip from your core. you cry out, your body shaking, and felix follows seconds later, his cock pulsing deep inside as he spills his cum into you, groaning your name.
exhausted, you collapse, your breaths ragged as aftershocks ripple through you. felix falls back to the bed with a satisfied sigh, his hands still gently caressing your thighs, both of you spent and connected in the hazy glow of release.
felix notices the way your body stays folded forward, your breath still uneven, and immediately reaches for you.
“sunshine”, he says softly, brushing his thumb over your thigh, “come here”
his hands slide to your sides, steady and gentle, sliding out of you and guiding you carefully until you’re lying beside him instead. you let yourself sink into the mattress next to him, turning onto your side. he mirrors you instantly, close enough that your knees brush, his forehead leaning against yours. the intensity has faded a bit, your bodies still humming but relaxed now.
he kisses you softly, slow and unhurried, full of affection. nothing rushed. nothing demanding. you smile into the kiss, letting out a quiet laugh.
“okay, i have to say… i really liked that”, you admit, your cheeks warm.
his eyes brighten immediately, “yeah?”
you nod, “yeah, i didn’t know i’d like it that much”
his laugh is light, “good. i mean-”, he ducks his head a little, kissing you again, “i’m glad”
you keep kissing between sentences, lazy and affectionate, your fingers tracing idle patterns along his arm.
“you were really good”, you say.
he scoffs softly, “you’re biased”
“i’m not”, you insist, kissing him again, “you know i’m a very honest person”
he hums, pretending to consider it, then sighs against your lips.
“i know i have to go”, he says reluctantly, “but i really don’t want to”
you laugh, resting your forehead against his, “i figured you’d say that”
he pulls back just long enough to grab his boxers, slipping them on slowly, still stealing kisses whenever he leans back towards you. one last kiss, longer than the rest, before he straightens. at the door, he pauses, turning back with that familiar bright smile and a playful glint in his eyes.
“you know”, he says casually, “if you ever want to try more positions…”
you raise a brow.
“you just have to call me”, he finishes, winking.
you laugh, biting your lip as he laughs too.
“save some energy”, he adds lightly, “i’ll see you later”
the door closes behind him, leaving you alone again, warmth still lingering, your smile slow and thoughtful as you stare at the ceiling. the sheets are rumpled beneath you, carrying the imprint of everything that’s already happened today.
four.
the thought hits you suddenly, almost dizzying. you’ve already had four of them. and there are still four more waiting.
it’s indulgent. unreal. intoxicating. you let out a quiet laugh, one hand sliding over your stomach as you stare up at the ceiling. you’re still not used to this, this fully immersed in desire that doesn’t ask you to hold back. and you know it should scare you but, instead of fading, the excitement builds.
your breath grows a little heavier as anticipation creeps in again, the knowledge that you’re not done, that this is still stretching out in front of you. the way each boy has touched you differently, looked at you differently, wanted you in their own way.
your thighs close instinctively, and you close your eyes for a second, letting the sensation roll through you. you’re still sensitive, still warm, still very aware of your own body and how easily it responds, how you’re still dripping and clenching your thighs.
“this is insane”, you murmur to yourself, your voice soft.
but you’re smiling.
eventually, you push yourself upright, reaching for the tissues on your nightstand again. you move slowly, carefully, taking a moment to clean yourself up. every small movement reminds you of where you are, what you’re doing, how much more there is still to come. you toss the used tissues away and settle back against the pillows, your fingers combing through your hair as you take a steadying breath.
then the door opens and you turn your head just as han steps inside. he freezes for half a second when he sees you there - flushed, relaxed, lying there for him, the sheet barely covering your lower half - and then his lips curl into a familiar, crooked smile.
“hey”, he says, his voice warm, his eyes already bright with anticipation.
you smile at him before you even think about it, “hey yourself”
han closes the door behind him and crosses the room with an easy confidence, his boxers covering his growing bulge. he climbs onto the bed without asking, flopping down beside you on his side, propping himself up on one elbow so he can look at you properly.
“wow”, he says, grinning, “you look… very well taken care of. what? did someone do something to you?”
you snort, “don’t act like you weren’t listening”
“okay, yeah”, he laughs, “maybe i was”
you turn onto your side to face him, the sheet sliding but staying in place on your waist, your knees brushing his thigh. his eyes flicker down for half a second before meeting yours again, amused and very aware.
there’s a beat of comfortable silence, just the two of you smiling at each other like this is the most natural thing in the world. then you tilt your head, feigning innocence.
“so”, you say, your hand sliding up his chest, “it’s just you this time, right?”
his brows lift, “what do you mean?”
“you know exactly what i mean”, you say, “last time you brought help. ice. tricks. surprises”
he laughs, shaking his head, “oh come one, i just did what the wheel said”
“i know”, you say, “so… should i be bracing myself?”
he leans in a little closer, lowering his voice just enough to make your pulse skip.
“don’t worry”, he says, “you’ll find my body is more than enough to have you screaming and dripping for me”
you scoff softly, but your smile gives you away, “that’s a big claim, jisung”
he smirks, “you doubting me?”
you inch closer, your nose almost brushing his, “i might need some convincing”
his eyes darken and that quiet, confident shift is enough to make your thighs clench, feeling yourself already dripping for him like he said.
“i’m very good at convincing”, he says.
you laugh, your breath a little unsteady now, “you’re so sure of yourself”
“only with you”
the words land harder than expected, and the teasing slows. his hand drifts to your waist, resting there casually, like it belongs there, and you don’t move it away.
“careful there”, you say, “you’re starting to sound dangerous”
he leans closer, his forehead brushing yours, “you’re letting all of us have our way with you because you also want it… i think you like dangerous, y/n”
maybe you do.
your fingers hook lightly into the waistband of his boxers, pulling just a bit, but it’s more suggestion than action. his breath hitches, just barely, and you smile.
“still think your body is enough?”, you whisper.
his answer is simple. he kisses you, unhurried at first, but when you kiss him back, it deepens naturally, teasing giving way to intention. his hand tightens slightly on your waist, grounding, steady, confident without forcing anything. your fingers curl into his side as you shift closer, your bodies aligning easily.
when he pulls back just enough to look at you, you try to follow his lips, not wanting to break the kiss just yet. he sees you trying to kiss him again and he smiles, darker this time.
“told you”, he murmurs.
and then he kisses you again, slower, deeper, the playful energy no longer there, disappearing into something undeniably heated. the pace quickens, han presses closer, his mouth claiming yours with more insistence, nipping at your lower lip before soothing it with a swipe of his tongue. your hands slide up his chest to tangle in his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss.
his mouth trails from your lips, ghosting along your jawline before finding the sensitive skin of your neck. he sucks gently at first, his teeth grazing just enough to send sparks down your spine, then harder, marking you with a blooming bruise that makes you arch into him.
“you’re mine for now”, he whispers against your skin, his voice low and deep, the vibration humming through you.
you tilt your head to give him better access, your own lips seeking out his neck in retaliation, kissing the pulse point there, then biting down softly, sucking until a faint red mark appears. han groans, the sound muffled against your throat, his body shifting as he rolls you both, pinning you beneath him. his weight settles over you, his hips aligning with yours, the thin barrier of his boxers doing little to hide how hard he is, pressing insistently against you.
you feel powerful even under him, your hands roaming down his back, your nails scraping over the muscles that flex under your touch. your fingers hook into the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down and exposing the curve of his ass before sliding them lower.
han lifts his hips just enough to help you, kicking them off without breaking his rhythm on your neck, sucking harder now, his tongue licking the mark he’s leaving, a possessive edge to it that makes your cunt clench with need. you moan loudly, the sound echoing in your room, raw and unfiltered.
“fuck, jisung”, you moan, your body writhing beneath him, your thighs parting instinctively to cradle his naked form.
he chuckles against your skin, pulling back just enough to admire his work, a red mark blooming along your collarbone.
“already moaning like that? baby, i haven’t even started”, he teases you, his voice husky, his breath fanning hot over the marks he’s created, “you sound so desperate for me, y/n. i bet you’re soaking just from a little kissing”
his words make you squirm, your hands gripping his shoulders as you try to pull him back down. but he hovers there, smirking, his eyes locked on yours as his hands explore your body.
his fingers skim over the swell of your breasts, cupping them lightly without touching the hardened nipples that ache for attention, his thumbs hovering just at the edges. he moves lower, his hands splaying across your waist before sliding down to your thighs, parting them wider but never venturing inward.
the teasing is deliberate, agonising, his touch everywhere except where the heat pools hottest between your legs, where your clit throbs untouched and your entrance begs for friction. you whimper, your hips bucking up seeking more, the denial building a frustrating ache that has you begging.
“jisung, please... t-touch me”, you plead, your voice breaking on the words, your body trembling under his deliberate restraint.
he silences you with another kiss, deep and consuming, as he swallows your whines. when he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his eyes half-lidded and intense.
“shh, be patient, baby”, he says, his hand still stroking your outer thigh, “i told you my body’s all you need. let me show you how crazy i can make you without rushing”
his tone sends a fresh gush of arousal slicking your folds, but he doesn’t relent, his touches remain feather-light and maddeningly avoidant. he shifts lower, his lips following the path his hands have traced. he kisses along your collarbone, then down to your chest, hovering over one breast.
his tongue circles the nipple slowly, teasing without quite touching, his breath hot and teasing until you arch up with a frustrated groan. then he closes his mouth over it, sucking firmly while his teeth graze the sensitive flesh, biting just hard enough to draw a sharp gasp from you.
his other hand mirrors the attention on your other breast, his fingers pinching and rolling the nipple between them, tugging in time with the pull of his mouth. pleasure shoots straight to your core, making your cunt flutter emptily, wetness coating your inner thighs as you writhe beneath him.
satisfied with the marks he’s left there, he continues downward, his tongue flicking out to lick a wet trail over your stomach. his eyes never leave yours, dark and hungry, holding your gaze as he dips into your navel, then lower still, savoring the way your body quiver under his touch. that unwavering eye contact makes your cheeks burn, but you can’t look away. he reaches the tops of your thighs, licking the sensitive skin there, his lips brushing kisses along the crease where leg meets hip.
he moves to the inside of one thigh, his teeth nipping playfully at the tender flesh, sucking another faint mark into existence just inches from where you need him most. his breath ghosts over your folds, so close you can feel the warmth, your clit pulsing in anticipation, but he pulls away deliberately, switching to the other thigh. he repeats the torment - kissing, licking, biting - drawing out the tease until your hips move, seeking his mouth.
“jisung, god, p-please… j-just touch me there”, you beg him, your voice high and desperate, your hands fisting the sheets as frustration coils tight in your stomach.
he pauses, looking up at you with a wicked smile, his chin resting on your thigh.
“see? just my mouth, nothing else, and you’re already begging like this”, he says, his voice rough with his own arousal, his eyes flicking down to where you’re glistening for him, “imagine what it’ll feel like when i finally give you what you want”
the words are a taunt, but there’s a playful edge that only heightens the ache. before you can respond, he dives in, his tongue flat and broad as it licks a slow stripe up your folds, tasting your arousal with a hum of approval.
“you’re so sweet”, he murmurs against you, then circles your clit with the tip of his tongue, flicking it lightly before sucking gently.
you cry out, your hips bucking as waves of pleasure crash over you. he doesn’t hold back now, his mouth working you over with focused intent, his tongue delving into your entrance to lap at the slickness there, then returning to your clit.
your hands fly to his hair, gripping tight as you grind against his face, almost riding him in your desperation. he groans into you, the vibration sending shocks through your core, his hands pinning your thighs wider to devour you deeper, his nose bumping your clit as his tongue thrusts inside.
but just as the coil winds unbearably tight, your moans turning frantic, han pulls back abruptly, his lips shiny with you. you whine in protest, but he crawls up, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss. you taste yourself on him, fueling your hunger as your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling him closer. he settles between your legs, his cock heavy and leaking against your thigh, the tip nudging your entrance as he grinds once, twice, teasing the stretch without entering.
he positions himself, about to thrust in, when his eyes catch something on the wall - the full-length mirror, reflecting the scene in vivid detail, your flushed body arched beneath him, his muscles taut as he hovers, the raw intimacy captured from the side.
his gaze locks on the mirror, the reflection capturing every flushed inch of your body splayed beneath him, his own form hovering with restrained hunger. the sight pulls a low groan from his throat, but he freezes just as his cock nudges your entrance without pushing in. you feel him pausing, your body clenching around nothing, desperate for the fill you’ve been craving since his mouth left you trembling.
“jisung please”, you beg him, your voice cracking as frustration and need crash over you.
your hands clutch at his shoulders, pulling him down with all your strength. your hips buck up instinctively, trying to draw him in, but he holds back. tears of overwhelming want prick at your eyes, your breaths coming in shaky sobs as you writhe beneath him.
“i need you inside me now. fuck, i can’t wait anymore”
the words tumble out raw and unfiltered, your cunt throbbing with emptiness, slick dripping down your thighs. han’s eyes soften for a split second, dark with desire, but he just dips his head, capturing your lips in a deep, soothing kiss that steals your breath. his tongue strokes yours lazily, contrasting the urgency of your pleas, grounding you even as it stokes the fire.
when he pulls back, his hands are gentle but firm on your hips, moving you onto your hands and knees, the sheets bunching under your palms as he positions you in front of the mirror, your reflection staring back with wide, needy eyes and lips swollen from his kisses.
he kneels behind you, his cock heavy and leaking against your inner thigh, sliding through your folds once to coat himself in your wetness. he bends forward, his chest pressing to your back, his mouth hot against your ear. one hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head so you’re forced to meet your own gaze in the mirror.
“look at yourself”, he says, his voice a rough whisper that sends shivers racing over your skin, “see how fucking beautiful you are right now? on your knees for me, begging like this, dripping for my cock. you’re perfect, y/n, god, i could watch you like this forever”
the words hit hard, vulnerability mixing with the heat as you watch yourself in the mirror, the raw need etched on your face making your core clench tighter. you whimper, pushing back against him, but he holds your hips steady, drawing out the tease.
“jisung, please…i need it, i-i need you”, your voice is a whine, your body trembling on all fours, the mirror amplifying every quiver, every bead of sweat trailing down your spine.
finally, he straightens just enough, gripping your hips as the tip of his cock presses to your entrance, parting the slick folds before he thrusts in, stretching you open. you cry out, your eyes locked on the mirror as you watch him disappear inside you, the sight filthy and intoxicating as he bottoms out with a groan.
“fuck, so tight for me”, he says, his voice strained as he starts to move, pulling out halfway before slamming back in, setting a steady rhythm that has your breasts bouncing, your arms shaking.
you can’t tear your eyes away from the reflection, the visual of him fucking you from behind, his abs flexing with each thrust, his hands gripping your hips, pushing you higher.
“that’s it, baby, look how good you take me”, han says, leaning forward to nip at your shoulder, his pace quickening, “so pretty like this. you’re made for me, aren’t you?”
his words fuel the fire, each praise sending jolts straight to your core, your walls fluttering around him as he drives deeper, the wet sounds of skin slapping skin filling the room. he doesn’t let up, thrusting harder now, the head of his cock hits that spot inside you with every thrust, making stars burst behind your eyelids, but you force yourself to watch, to see the pleasure twisting your features, the way your mouth falls open in silent screams.
“jisung- oh god, yes, right there”, you moan, pushing back to meet him, the mirror showing the perfect sync of your bodies colliding.
then, he pulls you up with him, your back flush against his chest. his arm moves around your waist, holding you steady as he stays seated inside you, the new position letting him rub his cock against your walls from a different angle. both of you face the mirror now, the reflection even more intimate - your legs spread wide, your breasts heaving, his free hand roaming possessively over your skin.
“look at us”, he says against your neck, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “so fucking hot together. see how i fill you up? you’re glowing for me”
his hand cups one breast, his fingers pinching and rolling the nipple until you arch into his touch, a moan escaping your lips. the other hand dips lower, his fingers finding your clit, circling it firmly, then flicking in time with his thrusts as he picks up speed again. the stimulation is overwhelming, pleasure coiling tight in your stomach, your cunt squeezing him.
“fuck, jisung, i’m so close”, you whimper, your head falling back against his shoulder, but he turns your chin gently, forcing your eyes to the mirror.
you turn your head instead, seeking his mouth, crashing your lips against his in a messy, desperate kiss. your tongues tangle as you moan into him, the vibrations humming through both of you, his thrusts never faltering. he swallows your cries, biting your lower lip before releasing, both of you panting as you break apart.
“eyes on the mirror, baby, watch me make you come”, he tells you, his voice raspy, and you obey, locking gazes with your reflections - his intense stare over your shoulder, your own eyes wide and glassy.
the sight tips you over - his fingers pressing harder on your clit, the others pinching your nipple, his cock slamming inside you as your bodies move in perfect, heated unison. you come first, shattering around him with a scream. it’s intense, harder than before, a gush of wetness squirting out around his cock - not a flood, but enough to soak his thighs and the sheets below, the mirror capturing the way your body trembles, your cunt pulsing visibly. han follows seconds later, groaning your name as he buries deep, hot spurts of cum flooding you, his hips jerking erratically through the aftershocks.
your eyes stay connected in the reflection, the shared vulnerability in that gaze prolonging your highs, your bodies locked together as you ride it out. he softens inside you, but doesn’t pull out yet - instead, he dips his head to your neck, his lips latching on to suck a fresh mark into the skin, his teeth grazing as he marks you one last time. the sensation draws a final shiver from you, oversensitive and spent.
“you’re so beautiful when you come for me”, he says, his voice tender now, laced with awe.
with a shared sigh, he eases you both down, collapsing onto the bed in a tangle of limbs - him spooning you from behind, his cock slipping free with a wet sound, his cum trickling down your thighs. you nestle back into him, his arm draping over your waist, pulling you closer.
han stays wrapped around you for a moment longer, his breathing slowly evening out against your back. then, carefully, like he’s afraid to jostle you too much, he shifts.
“hey”, he says softly.
he guides you with gentle hands, turning you until you’re lying on your back, the sheets cool beneath you. he hovers over you briefly, his eyes scanning your face with an uncharacteristic seriousness.
“you good?”, he asks quietly, “i didn’t- i mean, tell me you’re okay”
you answer by tugging him down instead, your fingers curling into his hair as you kiss him. it’s not rushed or hungry now, it’s just warm and lingering, reassuring. he melts into it instantly, a small laugh escaping him against your mouth.
“okay”, he says, kissing you again, “i’ll take that as a yes”
“i’m more than okay”, you murmur between kisses, pulling him closer when he tries to lift his head, “don’t overthink it”
he exhales, relief softening his expression, “okay”, he says, half amused, half fond.
he steals another kiss, slower this time, before finally rolling onto his side and reaching for his boxers. he pulls them on, still glancing at you like he’s not quite ready to leave yet. he leans in and kisses you again, just before he stands up and goes to the door. at the door, he pauses, his fingers resting on the handle, then looks back with a playful glint in his eyes.
“hey, y/n”, he says, “don’t use the mirror with the next one”
you raise an eyebrow, deciding to tease him a bit, “or what?”
he scoffs lightly, trying to appear mad but smiling.
“or i’ll get jealous”, he laughs, then adds, “no, seriously, that was-”, he gestures vaguely, then shakes his head with a laugh, “it wouldn’t be fair”
you laugh too, the sound warm and loose, “no promises”
he groans softly, shaking his head as he opens the door, “you’re dangerous”
“you’re the one that came up with that idea”
he smiles one last time before slipping out, the door closing quietly behind him. you sit up slowly, the sheet sliding down your body, which still hums, your skin warm, marked by the memory of his hands, his voice, the way he looked at you. and not only han, also the ones that came before him.
you run a hand through your hair, letting out a slow breath. you shift closer to the centre of the bed, the sheets sliding softly beneath you as you reposition yourself until the mirror is fully in view again. the sight of your reflection makes your breath catch.
you barely recognise yourself - your hair mussed, your skin flushed, your lips swollen from kisses that haven’t quite faded yet. faint marks bloom across your body, proof of everything that’s happened today. you look touched. claimed. wanted. desired.
your chest rises and falls a little faster as you take it all in. there’s something intoxicating about seeing it, about seeing yourself like this. undone and glowing, your eyes a little glassy, your posture loose in the aftermath of pleasure. the mirror doesn’t let you hide from it, and you don’t want to.
the heat curls low in your body again, slow and insistent, a now familiar warmth spreading as anticipation builds again. you swallow, your thighs shifting slightly beneath the sheet, your body reacting before your mind can catch up.
your fingers lift without thinking, tracing the line of your jaw, then brushing over your lips. they feel sensitive, still tingling. you press them together gently, remembering how they were kissed, bitten, licked, murmured into just moments ago. the thought alone makes your stomach tighten.
you tilt your head, studying your reflection again, watching the way your body responds, how your breathing changes, how your posture softens into something open and inviting without you meaning it to.
and then the door opens again.
you don’t look away from the mirror right away. you hear the soft click of it closing again, footsteps crossing the room, unhurried, stopping beside the bed and only then do you turn your head.
seungmin stands there, wearing nothing but his boxers. his gaze lands on you instantly, on the way you’re stretched across the bed, on the marks you haven’t bothered to hide, on the way you’re looking at yourself in the mirror and then at him.
for a split second, he just stares at you. then his lips part slightly, and he exhales a quiet, almost disbelieving breath.
“wow”, he says softly.
“come here”, you say, it’s not an order, not quite, but it lands like one anyway.
seungmin barely has time to react before you’re moving. you rise onto your knees on the bed, the sheet completely forgotten at this point, and grab him by the shoulders, pulling him into you. your mouths meet in a kiss that’s immediate and unrestrained, all heat and urgency.
his hands come up instinctively, gripping your waist, his fingers digging in. the kiss deepens, your bodies knocking together as he steps closer, caught completely off guard by your energy.
“wow, what-”, he says again against your mouth, half a laugh, half disbelief, but he doesn’t pull away, you don’t give him the chance.
using more strength than you realise you still have, you guide him down with you, moving until your back meets the mattress and you pull him over you. he braces himself on his forearms just in time, hovering above you, his eyes dark and searching as your lips find his again.
the kiss turns slower here, heavier, deliberate. your hands slide up his back, holding him there. he kisses you back with growing hunger, need bleeding into every movement, until he stops. he pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours, his breath uneven.
“okay”, he says quietly, “i’m not complaining about this, but-”, his thumb brushes your side, grounding you, “what has gotten into you?”
you try to kiss him again, chasing his mouth, but he pauses you with a gentle touch to your cheek.
“hey”, he says, “come on, talk to me”
you lean into his hand instead, your eyes soft but intense.
“i just-”, you exhale shakily, “i just need you close right now. i want you here, with me”
something shifts in his expression, surprise melting into warmth, into something protective and real. he kisses you then, deeper this time, slower but no less intense. his lips move against yours with purpose, like he’s grounding both of you through the contact. his hand stays firm on your waist, steady, reassuring. when he pulls back, his voice is low, careful.
“how is it going?”, he says, his eyes searching yours, “how are you holding up after… everything?”
you stop kissing him, really stop this time, and look at him properly. he’s still hovering over you, still warm, still close, but now there’s space for words. your hands rest on his shoulders, your thumbs brushing his skin as you speak.
“i’m okay”, you say softly, “better than okay, just… a bit overwhelmed, but in a good way, don’t worry”
his brows knit slightly, a bit of concern still there, “you sure?”
“yeah”, you nod, “it’s intense. all of it. but i like how it makes me feel”
you meet his eyes and his expression softens completely.
“okay”, he says quietly, “i was just checking, there’s no rush, just do whatever you want”
seungmin’s lips brush your forehead, lingering there before he trails softer kisses across your face - first to one cheek, then the other, each press light and tender, warming the skin flushed from earlier. he dots a quick one on the tip of your nose, drawing a small, surprised giggle from you that breaks the tension just enough. his eyes crinkle at the edges with gentle amusement, but there’s heat building underneath, a subtle shift as his mouth finds yours once more.
this kiss starts tender but it deepens quickly, mouths opening to let tongues meet in slow, exploratory strokes. his hand cups the side of your face, his thumb tracing your jawline, while the other stays on your waist, pulling you closer. your fingers thread into his hair, tugging lightly to angle him better, and the need becomes even bigger, kisses turning hungrier, breaths mingling hot and ragged.
you roll your hips experimentally, pressing your core against the growing hardness in his boxers, and he groans low into your mouth. you break away just long enough to move him - your hands push at his shoulders, guiding him until his back hits the headboard with a soft thud. he lets you, a surprised huff escaping him as you straddle his lap, your knees bracketing his thighs, your bare skin brushing his clothed one.
“careful there”, he says, his voice husky but laced with concern, his hands settling on your hips to steady you, “you good? not pushing too hard after... everything?”
you nod, leaning in to capture his lips again, but not before a shared laugh bubbles up as the position settles.
“i’m perfect”, you whisper against him, and the words seem to reassure him, his grip loosening, his palms sliding up your sides.
the laughter fades into moans as you kiss him again, deeper this time, your body rocking instinctively against his. you feel him harden fully beneath you, the thick outline of his cock straining against the fabric of his boxers, pressing right up into your slick folds through the barrier.
his moan vibrates against your mouth, low and needy, as you grind down deliberately now, circling your hips to drag your cunt along his length. your clit catches on the ridge of him with each pass, building that familiar ache low in your stomach.
“fuck”, he breathes, breaking the kiss to tilt his head back slightly, his eyes half-lidded as he watches you move.
his hands continue moving, one squeezing your ass to encourage you, the other tracing up to cup your breast, his thumb flicking over your nipple until you arch into it with a gasp. your movements grow more insistent, slickness soaking through his boxers as you chase the pressure.
but you want more, you need more. you trail kisses down his jaw, nipping at the sharp line before moving to his neck. you start sucking a light mark into the skin just below his ear, your tongue soothing the spot as he shudders beneath you.
“god, y/n”, he groans, his head falling to the side to give you better access, “you feel so good like this, k-keep going”
you kiss lower, across his chest, your tongue flicking over one nipple before sucking it briefly.
“if you wanna know why i was like that when you came in, it’s just... with han before, i completely lost it. the mirror… he had me on my knees, watching myself beg for him, and then he fucked me from behind while we stared at each other. and before that, all the others... it’s all so intense”, you pause to bite his nipple lightly, drawing a moan from him, “so i’m feeling extra needy right now, like i can’t get enough. and also, last time, with you... you were so sweet, so soft, the only one that made love to me... so you deserve a reward today, let me take care of you”
seungmin’s breaths come faster, his cock twitching under you as your words sink in, his hips bucking up involuntarily to meet your grinding.
“f-fuck, hearing that... you’re killing me, and i should be the one doing that”, he says, his fingers tightening in your hair.
you slide lower, kissing down his body, as your hands hook into the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down. he lifts his hips to help you, kicking them off, until he’s naked beneath you, his cock springing free, thick and veined, the tip already glistening with precum. you settle between his legs, your eyes locked on his as your hand wraps around the base, giving a slow, firm stroke that has him hissing through his teeth.
“y/n- fuck, yes”, he moans, watching you, anticipation darkening his gaze.
he thinks you’re going for it, your mouth hovering close, your breath ghosting over the sensitive head, your lips parting just enough to tease. his hand reaches out, his thumb brushing your cheek encouragingly, a silent plea in his eyes.
but at the last second, you pull back, a mischievous glint in your eye as you shake your head.
“as much as i want to”, you say, your voice low and teasing, pumping him once more to keep the edge sharp, “it wouldn’t be fair to the others. i didn’t do this with any of them, we have to keep it even, you know?”
seungmin’s expression twists into near desperation, a whine escaping him as his hips jerk into your hand.
“what? no, please y/n- come on, just a little, i-i’ll beg if you want”, his voice cracks on the last word, his cock throbbing in your grip, leaking more as he stares at you with wide, pleading eyes, his chest heaving.
the sight tugs at you, but you hold firm, releasing him with a final squeeze before crawling back up his body. you straddle him again, your chest pressing flush to his, your nipples grazing his skin as you align your hips. his cock nestles hot and heavy against your cunt, sliding through your wetness as you rock once, coating him.
“maybe another time”, you whisper, leaning in to kiss him softly, reassuringly, your hand guiding his cock to your entrance, “it could be just you and me… no rules, no more wheels. i promise i will suck you off then”
with that promise hanging in the air, your hips sink down slowly, taking the head of his cock past your entrance in one deliberate motion. the stretch is immediate, your walls fluttering around him as you lower yourself further until he’s fully inside you.
seungmin’s head falls back against the headboard with a thud, a loud, unrestrained moan ripping from his throat as your cunt clenches tight around him, slick and welcoming after all the buildup.
“fuck, y/n”, he gasps, his eyes squeezing shut for a second, his hands on your hips to hold you steady, his fingers digging into the soft flesh there.
the sound is so desperate, so unfiltered, that it sends a thrill through you, but you lean forward quickly, crashing your mouth against his to muffle the next groan. as you start to move, rolling your hips, he moans again, but this time it’s into your kiss, the sound muffled and intimate. you echo it back, a soft whimper escaping you as his cock drags against your inner walls, hitting that spot deep inside with every shift.
you lift slightly before dropping back down, taking him deeper each time, while he thrusts up to meet you, the slap of skin on skin starting soft but growing wetter, more insistent. you keep kissing him through it, your mouths never fully parting, your tongues tangling lazily at first, then with more urgency as the pleasure coils tighter.
“god, you feel amazing”, he says against your lips, his voice breathy and rough, his eyes locked on yours, “so tight around me”
you smile into the next kiss, nipping at his bottom lip before whispering back, “keep talking like that and i’ll ride you all day. you like how i take you?”
“yeah- fuck, yes. don’t stop, y/n. just like that”
the words spur you on, your pace quickening. you bounce a little harder now, your breasts brushing his chest. sweat beads on his skin, and you can feel your own arousal dripping down, easing the glide as his cock moves in and out.
his hands wander upward from your hips, sliding over the curve of your waist to cup your breasts, his palms warm and possessive. he squeezes them first, his thumbs tugging at your nipples with just enough pressure to make you arch into his touch, a sharp gasp breaking from your throat.
“you are perfect”, he says, his voice laced with awe and hunger, rolling your nipples between his fingers as you ride him. his words have you moaning louder, your head tipping back briefly.
“keep talking, minnie”, you say, grinding down to feel him bottom out, your clit grinding against him, “tell me how good you feel inside me”
“so fucking good… you’re gripping me so hard. you like this, huh?”, his moves quicken, making your walls flutter wildly around him.
you nod frantically, encouraging him, “yes, just like that- d-don’t stop”, your hands on his shoulders as you also pick up speed, the room filling with the sounds of your bodies connecting - wet smacks, heavy breaths, mingled moans.
the tension builds relentlessly, that familiar heat pooling low in your stomach again. you’re both close, you can feel it in the way his thrusts grow erratic, his hips snapping up with more force.
without thinking, your hand slips between your bodies, your fingers finding your clit, and you start circling it in tight, firm strokes, chasing the release that’s hovering just out of reach. seungmin’s eyes drop to watch you, darkening further at the sight, your fingers working yourself shamelessly while you fuck him, the visual pushing him closer to the brink.
“holy shit”, he says, unable to tear his gaze away, his chest heaving as he thrusts deeper, “t-that’s so hot, y/n, you touching yourself while i’m inside you. fuck, you’re gonna make me come just from seeing you”
his words hit like a spark, intensifying everything. you lean in, capturing his mouth in a fierce kiss to swallow the next moan, your tongues battling as your circles quicken. he matches your pace, one hand still on your breast, the other gripping your ass to pull you down harder onto his cock. the pressure builds until you finally break, your orgasm crashing over you, your walls spasming around him, a cry muffled against his lips as you come undone.
“i-i’m coming- fuck, y/n”, he mumbles brokenly and then, he breaks too, groaning into the kiss as his cock throbs, spilling hot inside you with deep, stuttering thrusts.
you ride your highs together, your movements slowing to a grind as the waves subside, your bodies slick and spent. you collapse against him, your forehead to his shoulder, both of you panting. his arms wrap around you immediately, holding you close. you lift your head, meeting his eyes - softer now, but still dark with hunger - and a lazy smile curves your lips. he mirrors it, before he pulls you in for a hungry kiss, slow and deep.
“mmhm”, you hum against him, nipping playfully, and he chuckles softly, chasing your mouth for more - kisses that linger, teasing as you stay connected, unwilling to separate just yet.
the laughter comes first. it slips out of both of you almost at the same time, soft and breathless, like your bodies don’t quite know what to do with all the leftover energy yet. you rest your forehead against his for a moment, still straddling him, the closeness grounding.
“you know”, you say, brushing your thumb along his lips, “the first time we did this, you were way softer”
he lets out a quiet laugh, his head tipping back against the headboard, “was i?”
“mmhm”, you nod, playful and teasing, “all careful, making love to me”, you tilt your head, smiling knowingly, “today though? you were… different”
his eyes flick back to yours, amused, “different how?”
“harder”, you say simply, grin widening, “like you had to prove that you had it in you”
he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head, “guess i’m just full of surprises”
“dangerous ones”, you add.
he groans, his hands sliding to your hips again, his thumbs pressing lightly like he’s tempted to pull you right back into him. instead, he exhales slowly, before he speaks again.
“come here”, he says.
he helps you move, guiding you gently down until you’re lying back against the mattress. he follows you just enough to press a soft kiss to your lips before he slips out of you completely. you feel the space between you as he straightens, the warmth fading as you feel the rest of your fluids dripping down your thighs.
he reaches for his boxers, pulling them on with a lazy kind of reluctance.
“don’t look so smug”, he says, catching your expression.
“i didn’t say anything”
“you didn’t have to”
he moves towards the door, then pauses and turns back. he walks right back to the bed and leans down beside you again, his voice quieter now, teasing but sincere.
“you know… what you said earlier”, he says, “about, you know… sucking me off another time”
you laugh loudly at his words, “seungmin, i wouldn’t have said it if i didn’t mean it”
his lips curve slowly, satisfaction flickering across his face, “good”
he leans in, kisses you one more time, warm and unhurried, and then he pulls back, brushing his thumb over your cheek.
“good luck with the next one”, he says.
you laugh again as he straightens, and you watch him leave the room with one last glance at you over his shoulder.
the door clicks shut and you’re left there, your breath slow, your body tired and overstimulated but still humming. you lie there for a moment after seungmin leaves, the room quiet except for your own breathing. your thoughts tumble over one another - flashes of hands, voices, laughter, the way each of them feel different with you.
it’s almost overwhelming how wanted you feel and even as your body should be completely spent, there’s that familiar, restless pull again, reminding you that you’re far from done.
the door opens again. you turn your head just in time to see changbin step inside, the soft click of the door closing behind him. he’s only wearing his boxers, showing his growing bulge, his expression immediately darkening when his eyes land on you.
“hey”, he says.
“hi, bin”
he doesn’t rush, he just walks to your bed and lies down facing you, the two of you on your sides, close enough that your knees brush. his gaze flicks over your face, attentive, careful.
“how are you holding up?”, he asks quietly, “really, you can tell me”
you smile at him, warmth spreading through your chest, “i’m good, better than good actually”
he hums, like he’s relieved but still keeping watch, like he always does with you, “yeah? you’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”
“always”, you say, reaching out to brush your fingers lightly over his forearm, “you know that”
“okay, good, just wanted to make sure”
there’s a pause, a comfortable one, but still charged. your finger traces higher, slow and deliberate, following the line of his bicep. you feel him moving, getting closer to you, leaning into your touch.
“so”, you say, your eyes meeting his again, “what’s your plan with me tonight?”
his lips curve, something darker setting on his face. you feel your thighs clenching unconsciously, feeling yourself getting wet again, wondering what’s he gonna do with you. or to you.
“last time”, he says softly, leaning in just enough for his breath to brush your mouth, “you were the one in charge”
you remember. the way he let you lead, let you decide, let you take him however you wanted. let you ride him until you collapsed from your own pleasure.
“you did what you wanted with me”, he continues, his voice low, “used me exactly how you felt like”
your pulse jumps. you nod your head, waiting for him to continue, because that’s the only thing your body can do.
“this time…”, he says, but he doesn’t continue, he kisses you.
it’s firm, deliberate. his hand slides to your waist as he shifts, guiding you onto your back. he follows, bracing himself above you, his weight settling over you, his body pressed against yours, his clothed cock rubbing against your aching cunt.
he pulls back just enough to look at you.
“this time”, he repeats, brushing his lips against yours again, “i’m doing whatever i want”
another kiss, deeper now, claiming you.
“and i’m going to use you”, he says against your mouth, his voice steady, confident, “exactly how i feel like”
and that’s all he needs. his words make you clench around nothing, letting out a moan that he silences with another kiss, hungry and bruising. his tongue sweeps into your mouth with a hunger that matches the fire building in your core, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before he sucks it between his teeth, drawing a soft whimper from you.
his body presses down harder, the thin barrier of his boxers doing little to hide the rigid length of his cock grinding against your bare cunt, the friction sending sparks through your already sensitive folds. you arch up into him, your hands sliding up his back to clutch at his shoulders, your nails digging in as the kiss turns even more desperate.
he breaks the kiss only to tug his boxers down, kicking them aside, his cock springing free, thick and heavy, the tip already glistening with precum. the sight makes your mouth water, and without thinking, your hand darts down, eager to wrap your hand around him, to stroke the heat pulsing there, but changbin catches your wrist, pinning it gently but firmly above your head.
“no”, he says, his voice low and commanding, his eyes locking onto yours, “you can’t touch today. it’s my turn, remember? no hands on me”
your breath hitches at the authority in his tone, a fresh wave of arousal flooding your cunt. you nod, biting your lip, the denial only heightening the ache between your legs.
“okay”, you whisper, your voice breathy.
he releases your wrist but keeps it there with a warning look before crashing his mouth back to yours. the kiss is fiercer now, his hand roaming down your side, tracing the curve of your hip before dipping between your thighs.
his fingers find your clit immediately and he starts circling it with slow, deliberate pressure, the pad of his thumb gliding over the sensitive nub in tight loops that make your hips buck involuntarily.
you moan into his mouth, the sound vibrating against his tongue as pleasure shoots through you. he doesn’t stop the kiss, swallowing every gasp as his touch grows bolder, his fingers parting your folds, stroking through your wetness, coating himself in your arousal.
then, without warning, he slides two fingers inside you, curling them just right to press against that spot. your walls flutter around them, gripping him tight as he pumps slowly, his thumb working your clit.
“fuck, bin”, you gasp when he pulls back for air, your head falling to the side as his lips trail to your neck.
he stays there, sucking a mark in your skin, his teeth scraping lightly before his tongue soothes the sting. all the while, his fingers thrust deeper, moving inside you, stretching you open with them.
“god, i’ve wanted you like this for so long”, he growls against your throat, his voice rough with need, “last time, you took my cock like you owned it, made me watch you come all over me. but i wanted to pin you down, make you beg for it, fuck you until you couldn’t think straight”
his words send heat pooling in your stomach, your cunt clenching harder around his fingers, your hips rolling up to meet each thrust. the wet sounds of him fingering you fill the room, loud and intoxicating, your slick coating his hand as you chase your climax.
“changbin- fuck, yes, right there”, you moan, your body writhing beneath him, your thighs trembling as his fingers curl again, hitting that perfect spot over and over.
you can feel the tension coiling tight, your breaths coming in short, desperate bursts, but he doesn’t let up, his mouth moving lower to suck another bruise into your collarbone while his fingers works you relentlessly. he lifts his head suddenly, his eyes dark and intent as he watches your face contort in pleasure.
“i’m not done yet”, he says, his voice husky, withdrawing his fingers just enough to make you whine at the loss.
before you can protest, he kisses down your body, his lips brushing your breasts, his tongue flicking over one nipple before moving again until he settles between your thighs. his hands spread your legs wider, your thighs hooked over his shoulders, exposing you completely to his gaze.
the first swipe of his tongue is devastating, flat and broad, lapping from your entrance up to your clit in one long, slow drag that has you screaming his name, the sound raw and echoing off the walls.
“changbin! oh god-”
he hums in response, the vibration rumbling through your core as he dives in fully, his mouth sealing over your cunt. his tongue delves inside, tasting every inch of your slick heat while his lips suck gently at your folds. you move against the sheets, your hands fisting the fabric as pleasure overwhelms you.
you lift your head just enough to look at him, but he doesn’t stop, he pulls back just enough to let a thick strand of saliva mixed with your arousal connect his lips to your clit, the sight filthy and intimate as he holds your gaze, his eyes smoldering with hunger.
“look at you”, he says before his mouth returns to your clit, sucking it between his lips with firm, pulsing pressure that makes your back arch off the bed, “such a good girl for me, taking my tongue like this, so wet and needy. you’re dripping all over my face, y/n”
his praise washes over you like fire, your body responding with frantic clenches, your hips grinding up against his mouth. one of his hands goes up to cup your breast, his fingers pinching and rolling your nipple in time with the flicks of his tongue, while his other hand pushes two fingers back inside you, curling deep and thrusting hard.
the combination is too much, everything is too much - his mouth devouring your clit, his fingers filling you, his hand gripping your breast. it pushes you higher, the coil in your stomach winding unbearably tight.
you’re relentless, your moans turning into cries as you chase your release, your thighs quivering around his head. sensing you’re close, changbin moves, his hand leaving your breast to grip your waist instead, his fingers digging into the soft flesh with bruising force, pinning you flat to the mattress. you know there’ll be marks blooming there later - red imprints of his hold, a reminder of his control.
just as your walls start to spasm, the orgasm hovering on the edge, he pulls back abruptly.
“not yet”, he growls against your clit, his fingers slipping out, his mouth lifting away, leaving you trembling and empty, the denial hitting like a punch to the gut.
your body trembles on the edge, every nerve ending screaming for a release that he’s cruelly stopped. the emptiness between your legs aches fiercely, your cunt clenching desperately around nothing, slick dripping down your thighs from the teasing that’s left you so utterly wrecked. tears prick at the corners of your eyes, frustration and need blurring your vision as you look at him, your lips parted in a silent plea.
“please, bin”, you beg, your voice breaking on a sob, the words tumbling out in a rush, “i need it, i-i need you. don’t stop, i can’t take it anymore. fuck, just let me come”
he hovers above you, his cock throbbing against your thigh, the heat of it a torturous reminder of what you’re craving. but changbin doesn’t give in right away. instead, he leans closer, his broad frame caging you in, one hand cupping your cheek to wipe the tears that slip free.
“it’s okay, sweetheart”, he says softly, “i’ve got you, no more tears, quiet now”
his lips brush yours in a gentle kiss, slow and coaxing, swallowing the next whimper that rises in your throat. the kiss deepens just enough to silence your pleas, his tongue tracing the seam of your mouth until you open for him, melting into the warmth as the desperation calms a bit. he pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling in the space between you.
“you’ve been such a good girl for me”, he whispers, the praise making your heart stutter even as your body throbs, “taking everything i give you, letting me tease you until you’re shaking. good girls like you deserve rewards, big ones, and i’m gonna give you exactly what you need”
the words ignite something deep inside, your cunt fluttering in anticipation as he shifts, lining himself up. the head of his cock nudges at your entrance, slick and ready, and with one smooth thrust, he pushes inside, stretching you open, filling the void that’s been tormenting you.
you moan louder than ever before, the sound ripping from your chest, raw and unrestrained, echoing through the room - or rather, the entire dorm - as your walls clamp down around him, greedy for more. he’s so deep already, the pressure perfect, hitting spots that make your toes curl and your back arch.
changbin groans low in his throat, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his lips sucking and biting there, marking the skin with hot, open-mouthed kisses that sting just right.
“fuck, you’re so tight”, he says against your throat, his hips snapping forward.
the fullness is overwhelming, every ridge and vein dragging along your inner walls as he moves - slow at first, deliberate rolls that grind his pelvis against your clit with each pass. you cry out again, the pleasure sharp and immediate, your hands flying to his body - your fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders, then sliding down to his back, your nails scraping lightly as you pull him closer.
he lifts his head to capture your mouth in another kiss, this one messy and fervent, your tongues tangling as moans spill between you. yours vibrate against his lips with every thrust, his own grunts mixing in, the sounds loud but intimate.
“that’s it, y/n”, he praises you between kisses, his voice husky and wrecked, “moan for me like that, let me hear how good my cock feels inside you”
your hands roam restlessly, one threading into his hair to tug gently, urging him deeper into the kiss, the other clutching at his bicep, feeling the flex of muscle as he braces himself.
he adjusts then, hooking one of your legs over his hip, spreading you wider to open you up more fully, one of his hands gripping your thigh to hold it there, the angle allowing him to sink even deeper, the head of his cock brushing that sensitive spot inside with unerring precision.
“y-yeah, like that, please”, you beg him.
“yeah? you like this?”, he says against your lips, his hips picking up speed, “i’m gonna make you come like this, open up for me”, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the air alongside your moans, “just let me fuck you right, i’m gonna make this cunt mine tonight”
the rhythm builds, fast and consuming, each thrust driving you higher, the coil in your stomach tightening again. your cunt flutters around him, slick coating his length, easing the way as he pounds into you, making your vision blur.
“god, look at you- so fucking perfect, taking my cock like this. you’re gonna come so hard for me, aren't you? my good girl, all mine”
“a-all yours, bin”
he shifts again, both hands now on your thighs, pushing them back towards your chest to fold you beneath him, the position exposing you completely. he leans down to kiss you once more, swallowing your cries and moans while his hips snap forward, faster now. your nails rake down his back, leaving faint red trails, and he hisses in pleasure, the sound spurring you on, your hips meeting his thrusts, the friction on your clit building unbearably.
“bin- oh fuck, i’m so close”, you moan into his mouth, your body trembling.
“come with me”, he says, his voice strained, “let go, show me how good i make you feel”
it hits you like a wave, crashing over with blinding intensity. your cunt spasming around him as you come undone. a gush of wetness escapes, just enough to soak where you’re joined, the slight squirt making everything slicker, more intense. changbin notices immediately, groaning deep and triumphant as he feels it, his thrusts stuttering.
“oh f-fuck yes- that’s my girl, squirting for me like that. so hot, y/n, you’re perfect”
that’s enough to tip him over, his hips thrusting one last time as he spills inside you, hot pulses of cum filling you up, his body shuddering with the force of it.
he collapses onto you then, both of you panting and spent. his cock twitches softly inside you, prolonging the aftershocks as your hands slide up to cradle his face, pulling him into a lazy kiss, your lips and tongues exploring lazily. he kisses you like he can’t get enough, even now, murmuring against your mouth between kisses.
“so good... my good girl…”
you kiss him this time, your lips searching for his. the kiss is unhurried, full, his weight settling more carefully now. there’s no rush, just closeness, just his uneven breath ghosting over your skin.
“y/n”, he murmurs softly, brushing his nose against yours, “you with me?”
you nod immediately, your fingers on his jaw, your thumbs stroking his skin, “yeah, all good”
his shoulders drop, relief flashing briefly across his face before that satisfied warmth returns. he kisses you again, gently now, peppering soft kisses along your lips, your nose, your cheek, your forehead.
“you did so good”, he says quietly, “so, so good for me”
his hand moves soothingly over your side, grounding you. you hum in response, pulling him closer just to feel him there a second longer.
eventually, he shifts, a wet sound accompanying as he slips out and his cum trickles down your thigh while he presses one last kiss to your mouth before moving back completely. he straightens, runs a hand through his hair, and then reaches for his boxers, pulling them on slowly.
he turns back to you, his eyes soft but still dark with that lingering edge.
“only one left now”, he says, a small smile tugging at his lips, “and i’m honestly impressed you’re still standing, well, i mean, you’re lying down but, you know what i mean”
you laugh weakly, sinking back into the mattress, “i know, bin”
he steps closer again, bends down to kiss you once more, then brushes his fingers through your hair, smoothing it back from your face.
“i’m proud of you”, he murmurs, “i always am”
your chest tightens at that, warmth spreading somewhere deeper than skin.
“i’ll see you soon”, he adds, his voice dropping just slightly.
then he straightens, gives you one last look, and heads for the door. it closes softly behind him, leaving you alone again, your heart still racing, your body heavy with sensation and overstimulation, the sheets under you a mess of you and the boys. well, almost all of them. there’s only one left.
chan.
you stay there for a few seconds, your chest rising and falling as everything catches up to you. and then, slowly, carefully, you push yourself upright. your legs protest immediately and you laugh under your breath as you stand up, one hand bracing against the bed when your knees wobble.
everything feels pleasantly overstimulated, your muscles loose, your skin sensitive, your body reminding you of just how much it’s been through today. step by step, you make your way towards the bathroom attached to your room, your bare feet sinking into the rug.
the light clicks on softly and you stop in front of the sink, your hands resting on the cool porcelain, and finally, you lift your gaze to the mirror.
it steals the breath right out of your lungs.
you’re flushed, your skin warm and glowing, your eyes a little glassy, your lips swollen from all the kissing. and everywhere - absolutely everywhere - there are marks. faint already in some places, darker in others. along your neck, just below your jaw. scattered beneath your breasts. along your hips, your waist, your thighs. evidence of hands, mouths, teeth. of being touched, held, wanted.
there’s something intoxicating about the sight, about knowing how each mark got there, who left it, what it meant in the moment. you trace one of them with your fingers, then another, watching the way your skin reacts under your touch. the feeling makes your thighs clench involuntarily, and you feel yourself getting wet again.
you look at yourself and feel powerful, desired, still hungry. and then, a soft sound comes from the bedroom, the door opening. you freeze, your eyes flicking up in the mirror. then you hear a dull thud against the floor. fabric, maybe.
before you can turn around, a presence fills the doorway behind you. you meet his reflection first - broad shoulders, familiar stance, relaxed but attentive. chan leans against the bathroom doorframe, like he’s taking you in slowly, deliberately.
oh, and he’s completely naked.
“hey”, he says.
the sound of his voice sends a shiver straight down your spine.
“hey”, you say looking at him through the mirror.
he closes the distance between you, his reflection stepping closer in the mirror, until his chest is almost brushing your back. then, his hands come to rest on your waist, his palms soft against your skin. the touch is careful at first, grounding, like he’s checking in without words. he looks at you in the mirror instead of directly at you, his eyes searching yours.
“you okay?”, he asks quietly, “you holding up?”
you nod, a small smile tugging at your lips.
“yeah, i’m a bit overwhelmed”, you glance at him through the glass, “but i’m good, don’t worry”
his shoulders ease at that, a soft huff of relief leaving him.
“i figured”, he says, “but i still wanted to hear it from you”
he moves closer, his arms wrapping around you fully now, pulling you back against him. the contact is intimate without rushing - his chin near your shoulder, your bodies fitting together easily. you both look at yourselves in the mirror, the contrast striking: you marked and flushed, him steady and solid behind you.
“i thought things couldn’t get crazier than the last time but… guess i was wrong”, you laugh quietly
“yeah, i guess you could say that”, he chuckles against your shoulders, his eyes flicking over the reflection of your skin, the faint marks, the glow, “you really went through all of us”
“well, not yet”, you tease him, and that earns a low laugh from him.
“right. my turn now”
his lips brush your neck then, slow and unhurried, a soft kiss that makes your breath hitch. another one follows, then another, lower this time. his voice hums against your skin. you feel his tongue tracing down your shoulder before he speaks again.
“is this a kink you have?”, he asks casually, “you know, you and the mirror?”
you smile, tilting your head slightly to give him better access.
“i only discovered it today”, you say, “han’s fault”
he hums, amused, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “of course it is”
you turn in his arms then, until you’re facing him. his hands stay on your waist, his thumbs brushing lightly as he looks down at you. there’s warmth there, but also something darker underneath.
“also”, you add lightly, tracing your finger down his chest, quickly looking down to see his cock hard and ready, “hyunjin already fucked me on top of furniture earlier. so unless you’re planning on copying someone, i’d suggest you get creative, my leader”
for half a second, he just stares at you and then, his mouth is on yours. the kiss is hungry but controlled, deep without being rushed. his hands tighten on your waist as he pulls you closer, and you melt into him, your fingers curling into his shoulders as the kiss deepens.
when he pulls back, just enough to breathe, his forehead rests against yours before he speaks.
“trust me”, he says, his lips brushing yours once more, “i’m not copying anyone tonight”
and the look in his eyes tells you exactly how serious he is.
before you can respond, chan’s mouth claims yours again. the kiss is intoxicating, his lips pressing firm against yours, his tongue slipping past your teeth to tangle with yours. you feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours as your hands move to his chest, your fingers tracing the defined lines of his muscles. he groans into the kiss, and his arms tighten around your waist, pulling your naked body flush against his, making his erection press against your stomach, hard and insistent.
suddenly, his hand wraps around yours, and he tugs you back into the bedroom. you barely register what he’s doing as he guides you across the short distance to the nearest wall. your back meets the smooth surface with a soft thud, his body crowding in immediately, pinning you there without trapping you. his presence is dominant yet attentive, like he’s savoring every second of your surrender.
“has anyone fucked you so hard you couldn’t stand on your feet anymore?”, he asks you, his voice low and rough, the words laced with a challenge that sends a thrill straight to your core.
you gulp and shake your head, your breath catching at the raw edge in his tone, your cunt clenching in anticipation. no one has pushed you that far yet, not tonight, not ever, and the admission makes heat flood your cheeks.
“good”, he says, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips, “then that one will be me”
he kisses you again, hungrier this time, devouring your mouth with a fervor that leaves no room for teasing. his tongue thrusts deep, while one hand fists in your hair, tilting your head back to deepen the angle. the pull is just right, a sting that makes you gasp into him, and his other hand grips your waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh there as he grinds his hips forward.
his cock slides against your stomach, hot and thick, the friction drawing a low grunt from his throat that rumbles against your lips. you moan in response, the sound muffled by his mouth, your body arching instinctively to press closer, your thighs parting slightly as you feel the slickness building between your legs again.
he breaks the kiss only to trail his lips along your jaw, nipping lightly before capturing your mouth once more, the rhythm of his grinding hips relentless. each roll presses him harder against you, his length trapped between your bodies, and you feel his precum smearing across your skin.
your hands roam his back, your nails scraping down his muscles, urging him on as grunts escape him with every thrust. you match him, moaning louder, the wall cool against your spine while his heat envelops you, the contrast heightening every sensation until you’re both lost in the grind.
chan’s control is ironclad, though. he kisses down your neck, sucking a fresh mark just below your collarbone before dropping lower. his mouth maps your body with purpose, his lips brushing the swell of your breasts, his tongue flicking over a nipple that’s already hard from the cool air and his attention.
you whimper as he sucks hard enough to make your knees weaken, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak before soothing it with his tongue. he doesn’t linger long on one side, moving to the other with the same intensity, his hands steadying your hips to keep you upright against the wall.
his kisses continue down your stomach, until he gets to the curve of your hips. he nips at the skin there, right over one of the fading marks from earlier, and you feel the possessive edge in the bite, claiming you again.
finally, he sinks to his knees in front of you, the movement fluid and unhurried, his broad shoulders parting your thighs as he settles between them. his eyes lock on yours, looking up at you from this angle, his eyes dark with hunger.
“i have to do something again”, he says, his voice husky, as his hands slide up your legs, his thumbs tracing your inner thighs until they reach your core.
you barely have time to process before his mouth is on you, his lips sealing over your clit in a hot, wet kiss that makes your head fall back against the wall. he licks a slow, broad stripe up your folds, tasting the remnants of your earlier releases mixed with fresh arousal, and he groans deeply.
“fuck”, he moans against you, the vibration sending sparks through your body.
his tongue delves deeper, parting your lips to lap at your entrance, circling with deliberate pressure that has your hips bucking forward.
“f-fuck chris!”, you scream his name, the sound echoing off the walls, raw and desperate.
he doesn’t stop, instead, he adds his fingers, two sliding inside you with ease thanks to how soaked you are. they curl immediately, hooking against that spot that makes you scream louder, pumping in time with the flicks of his tongue on your clit.
“please, chris, more, d-don't stop, fuck, i need it”, you beg him, your voice breaking on gasps, your hands fisting in his hair to hold him there.
he hums against you, and looks up, his eyes locked on your face as he works you over. you can see the slickness coating his face, feel it dripping down his jaw from how messily he’s devouring you, your arousal leaking freely as your thighs tremble around his head.
“i couldn’t stop thinking about your taste since i had you”, he growls between licks, pulling back just enough to speak, his fingers still thrusting deep and steady, “when you sat on my face… fuck, one time was not enough. you’re so sweet, so wet for me, dripping like this. i could do this all day”
his words make you clench around his fingers, and he dives back in, sucking your clit hard while moving his fingers inside you.
“chris! oh god, yes, right there please!”
the build is relentless, your body coiling tighter with every thrust of his fingers, every swirl of his tongue. you feel the edge closer, your moans turning to pleas as you grind against his face. but just as the orgasm almost hits you, he stops. his mouth lifts, his fingers slipping free with a wet sound, leaving you hanging, throbbing and empty, a whine tearing from your throat in protest.
you stare down at him, your chest heaving, the denial hitting you like a wave crashing and pulling back just as it peaks. your tears prick at the corners of your eyes, frustration and need blurring your vision. you’re so tired and overstimulated that this denial feels like torture.
“chris, please- don’t stop, i was so close, fuck, i need you”, your voice cracks, your thighs quivering from the edge he left you on, your cunt clenching around nothing, aching for release.
he stands up slowly, his lips glistening with your wetness, his chin slick and shiny. his eyes never leave yours, dark and unyielding, making your heart stutter. as he stands fully, towering close, he cups your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that spill over.
“shh, baby”, he says, his voice soft but firm, leaning in to press his lips to yours in a soothing kiss.
the taste of yourself lingers on his tongue as it slips into your mouth, swallowing your pleas. he pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, “you’re doing so good for me, such a perfect girl, taking everything i give you”
his words ease the whine in your throat even as your body screams for more. he kisses you again, one hand sliding down to grip your hip while the other tangles in your hair, holding you steady. you melt into it, moaning softly as his praise sinks in, making you feel cherished even in the torment.
“good girl”, he says between kisses, nipping your lower lip, “so patient, so wet and ready. you’re everything i want”
the ache between your legs pulses harder at his voice, but he doesn’t rush. his hard cock brushes against your thigh, thick and throbbing, the tip leaking as it nudges your skin. you reach for him, but he catches your wrist, guiding your hand away with a shake of his head.
“remember what i told you”, he says, his voice dropping, sending shivers down your spine, “i’m gonna fuck you hard, make you forget how to stand”
before you can even react, he lines the head of his cock against your entrance, slick and open. he sinks inside you, stretching your walls until he’s buried to the hilt. you cry out, the fullness overwhelming after his teasing, your nails digging into his shoulders as your body adjusts to him. he groans low in his chest, his hips stilling for a moment to let you feel him - hot, pulsing, hard, filling every space.
then he starts moving, pulling back almost all the way before slamming forward, the force pinning you harder against the wall. your feet shift on the floor, your toes curling as he sets a brutal pace, each thrust deep and deliberate, his cock dragging against your inner walls.
“fuck, you feel so good”, he says, his mouth crashing back to yours in a messy kiss.
you kiss him back fiercely, while his hand slides up to cup your breast, his thumb rolling your nipple. moans spill from your lips into his mouth, turning to screams as he angles his hips, hitting that spot inside you with every thrust.
“chris- oh god, yes”, you moan, breaking the kiss to nip at his jaw, then his neck, sucking a mark into the skin just below his ear.
he retaliates, his teeth grazing your throat, biting down enough to leave a fresh bruise. the pain mixes with pleasure, heightening everything as he fucks you relentlessly, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing in the room.
your legs tremble, threatening to give out, but he holds you up with ease, one arm around your waist, the other braced against the wall beside your head now. grunts rumble from him with each thrust, matching your cries.
“you take me so well, baby, squeezing me like that”
the words push you higher, the build starting again but fiercer this time. as your orgasm gets closer, your breaths coming in pants, your legs wobbling under you, he shifts, his hands dropping to grip your thighs, lifting one leg first, then the other, wrapping them around his waist. you lock your ankles behind him, the new angle letting him sink even deeper, his cock bottoming out with every snap of his hips.
“fuck, c-chris, harder, please!”, you beg him, your head thrown back against the wall, your nails raking down his back as he picks up speed, pounding into you faster, the friction on your clit from his pelvis grinding against you with each thrust.
“that’s it, beg for me”, he says, his voice strained, his lips brushing your neck, “such a good girl, so tight and desperate. gonna make you come so hard”
“yes, chris, don't stop… f-fuck me!”, your voice breaking on sobs of pleasure.
your orgasm looms closer, your walls clenching around his length, but just as it teeters on the brink, he stops again. buried deep, he stills completely, his hips flush against yours, and you groan in frustration, your tears falling again now.
“no- chris, not again, please, i can’t- i need to come, fuck, don’t do this!”, you say, grinding desperately against him, but he doesn’t budge, his cock twitching inside you but not moving.
“shh, baby, i’ve got you”, he soothes you, capturing your lips in a tender kiss that contrasts his denial, his tongue gentle as he hushes your whimpers.
one hand strokes your hair, the other supporting your weight as he begins to walk towards the bed, still inside you, every shift sending sparks through your oversensitive nerves. you cling to him, your legs tight around his waist, moaning into his mouth at the friction of him moving within you without thrusting.
he reaches the bed, lowering you both down without pulling out, your back hitting the soft sheets as he settles between your thighs. the mattress dips under his weight, and as soon as you’re lying down, he starts again, thrusting deep and hard, the pace even more punishing now.
“i’m gonna make you come now”, he growls, propping himself on one elbow while his other hand slips between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and circling it firmly.
his cock slamming into you, hitting that spot inside, and his thumb pressing your swollen clit shatter the last of your control. you scream his name, your body arching off the bed as waves crash over you, your cunt spasming around him in violent pulses.
“chris o-oh fuck”
the orgasm rips through you, intense and unrelenting, and he doesn’t stop, fucking you through it, his fingers rubbing faster on your clit until you squirt, hot liquid gushing between you, soaking his hand and the sheets beneath. he groans loudly, the sight and feel pushing him over the edge, his thrusts erratic as he comes with you, his cock pulsing as he fills you with thick spurts of cum.
“fuck… take it all, baby, that’s it”, he grunts, burying his face in your neck, marking you with a final bite as your shared release leaves you both trembling, screaming into each other’s skin.
he collapses over you with a low, shaky breath, his weight warm and grounding as the moment finally breaks. the only sound in the room is the sound of both of you trying to catch your breath. his forehead drops to your shoulder, his chest rising and falling against yours.
“hey”, he says after a second, lifting his head just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing your cheek, gentle now, “you good?”
you nod, still a little dazed, your eyes soft as you look back at him.
“yeah”, you breathe, “i’m good, chris, don’t worry”
he lets out a small, fond laugh, pressing a slow kiss to your lips, then another to your temple.
“you did amazing”, he says quietly, “not just with me. all of it. but i need to make sure you’re really okay”
the care in his voice makes your chest tighten. you reach up, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him down for another kiss. eventually, he shifts, careful as he slips out of you, his cum trickling down your thigh, and you feel just how sensitive you are when the air hits your skin. you hiss softly, and he freezes immediately.
“sorry”, he says, already moving again, “stay there”
he disappears for a moment and comes back with a towel, his movements slow and attentive as he helps you clean up. you flinch once or twice despite yourself, and each time he pauses, murmuring apologies, pressing light kisses to your knee, your stomach, anywhere he can reach.
“all done”, he says softly when he finishes, brushing his thumb over your hip, “it’s over now”
you don’t answer, you just look at him, your eyes tired and a little glassy, and pull him down for another kiss. he smiles into it, kissing you back just as gently. you try to shift, to sit up, and immediately sink back into the mattress with a laugh.
“wow”, you say, “okay, yeah, not happening”
he laughs too, straightening as he pulls on his boxers.
“i warned you”, he says, amused, “you weren’t going to be walking right away”
he leans down once more, brushing your hair back from your face, his thumb tracing your jaw.
“we’ll be outside”, he tells you, “no rush, take your time. just come when you’re ready, okay?”
you hum softly in response, your eyes drifting closed for a moment. he gives you one last look and then heads for the door. it closes quietly behind him, leaving you alone again, stretched out on the bed, your body spent, staring at the ceiling, letting it all wash over you.
all of it.
every voice, every touch, every orgasm. the realisation settles in, almost unreal at first. you’ve had sex with all of them. every single one. the weight of that thought makes your chest feel hot and tight at the same time.
your body is exhausted. deliciously, bone-deep tired. your muscles ache in an extremely overstimulated way, your skin feels too sensitive for fabric, for air. and yet, underneath the fatigue, there’s something else still burning - a low, persistent pull that refuses to fade.
a craving.
this wasn’t supposed to go this far.
this started as curiosity, a joke that lingered in the air. then than first time, the boundaries blurred, shifted. and then one thing led to another, and suddenly here you are, having crossed every line you once thought was solid.
and now that you’ve stepped over it… you don’t want to step back.
you push yourself up slowly, pausing when your legs can’t even carry your own body. it takes a moment before you can fully stand, one hand braced against the bed as you steady yourself. when you finally move, it’s careful, step by step, your legs wobbling a bit.
you pull on a t-shirt and slip into your panties without much thought. modesty feels pointless now, they’ve seen every part of you, touched every inch. there’s nothing left to hide, and there’s nothing you want to hide.
you stop in front of the mirror one last time before leaving your room and you barely recognise yourself, not because you look different, but because of the way you’re standing. the way your eyes hold something new, confident, aware, hungry.
you step out into the hallway, the air cooler, the house quiet, except for the low voices in the living room. with every step towards the living room, that feeling grows stronger, a pull you don’t fight. you don’t want to stop this, you don’t want today to be the end of whatever this has become.
when you enter the living room, they’re all there.
spread out, relaxed but alert. familiar silhouettes, familiar faces, watching you the second you appear. the room is thick with the aftermath of what they’ve done, heard, felt, imagined while waiting. you see their faces. you see their bodies. their boxers can’t lie.
their eyes track you openly and in that instant, you see it. the same thing that’s been sitting heavy in your chest all along. they feel it too.
you stop in the middle of the room, your heart thudding, the silence stretching just long enough to make it unbearable. and then you speak, your voice steady despite everything buzzing beneath your skin.
“i don’t want to end this here”
and the way they look at you - open, wanting, dark eyes gleaming with hunger - tells you everything you need to know.
maybe you don’t have to stop.
event masterlist | the library
likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💛
contains: +18, reader as an actress, lowkey but established minsung relationship, slowww burn, desperate Han, kinda dom lee know, threesome, dry humping, couch sex, unprotected sex (don’t), oral (f. and m. receiving), overstimulation, cum swallowing, masturbation (m.), clit play, lots of messy sloppy kisses, i think that’s it omg.
authors note: english is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in advance +++ requests are open! :)
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this ff was requested by @chezzeballs300
babe. you said you didn’t care if it had smut content or not. so.. i fucking made it filthy. i just had to. ALSO, so sorry it took so long, but I swear it was worth it.
summary: You never imagined you had fans like them. Lee Know and Han Jisung, two of the industry’s most magnetic idols. You didn’t know they watched your work. Admired you. Craved you. Not until a chance meeting changed everything. What begins as polite curiosity unravels into something else… a night where admiration blurs into obsession, and two not-so-subtle men show you just how deeply they’ve dreamed of having you.
!!!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!!
It started stupidly, really. On a lazy night off, a rare one, tangled limbs on the couch, half-eaten snacks scattered across the coffee table, and a remote fighting for its life between two increasingly indecisive men.
“Not the same stuff again,” Lee Know groaned, elbowing Han lightly, head tipped back against the cushions. “We’ve seen all of this.”
“Correction,” Han mumbled, scrolling, “you’ve seen all of this. I’m a man of culture. I appreciate rewatching things. For… research.”
Lee Know didn’t even need to look. He knew where this was going.
“Research, huh?”
“Yep.”
And then, there it was. Your face. The thumbnail of your drama sitting pretty in the recommended row.
Neither of them moved for a second. Just… stared. Like idiots. Like idiots who absolutely should’ve known this was coming but still got hit in the gut anyway.
Han was the first to crack.
“…Wanna?”
Lee Know sighed. Long. Heavy.
“Play it.”
Yeah. Of course. Of course they’d play it.
They had already watched it once. Twice. Enough that their favorite scenes were muscle memory now, the laugh you did when your character got flustered, the sharp glint in your eyes when delivering that one line that turned the whole fandom upside down for a week.
It was harmless at first. Admiring your acting. Talking about how good you were. How natural.
And then it wasn’t harmless anymore.
Then it became the way Han would mutter, “She’s not even trying. God, she’s not even trying and it’s like—”, cutting himself off, chewing on the inside of his cheek, bouncing his knee.
The way Lee Know went quiet. Hyper-focused. Tracking every micro-expression you made, like he was studying you, trying to figure out how you worked. Like if he watched close enough, he’d unlock some secret about you.
It wasn’t obsession. Not quite. But it was something. Something sticky. Something they didn’t talk about, not really.
Not until Han, voice barely above a whisper, said, “Imagine...”
Lee Know glanced at him, brow cocked. “Imagine what.”
Han didn’t look away from the screen.
“...If she looked at us like that.”
Silence. Thick. Heavy.
“You’re ridiculous,” Lee Know muttered, shifting, but not far. Not really. Not away.
“No, but really.” Han’s voice was lighter now. Testing the edges of something dangerous. “Imagine. If she...” a laugh, breathless, almost shy, like even saying it felt like crossing a line “...if she talked to us like that. That tone. That—”
Lee Know dragged a hand down his face. “Stop.” But there was no heat behind it.
“I won’t.” Han bit back a grin, tipping his head against Lee Know’s shoulder. “Bet you’ve thought about it too.”
Silence. A beat. Then, quietly. So quietly.
“Yeah.”
Han blinked.
“...Yeah?”
Lee Know sighed, low. Heavy. Hands folding behind his head, sinking deeper into the cushions like it could somehow take the edge off
“Yeah,” he repeated. Matter-of-fact. No running from it now. “Imagine her between us.”
Han’s breath caught. Sharp. Audible.
“Fuck.”
“Not even like... for anything serious,” Lee Know continued, voice deceptively even. “Just... one night. Just to know what it feels like.”
“Yeah...” Han exhaled, hands rubbing over his face now. “Yeah. Yeah. Just once.” His knee bounced faster. “Jesus, just... her voice, man. The way she says things. You can tell she knows exactly what she’s doing.”
“Mhm.” Lee Know’s lips curved, slow. “Bet she’s worse in real life.”
Han groaned. “Worse.” He thumped his head back against Lee Know’s shoulder. “Or better. Depending on how you look at it.”
Lee Know laughed, low, dark, teeth tugging at his bottom lip.
“Both.”
It hung there. No take-backs. No pretending they didn’t mean it.
Lee Know reads it first. Blinks. Reads it again. Blinks again.
“Jisung.”
“Hm?”
“You’re not gonna believe this.”
“Holy shit,” he muttered, more to himself than anything. “She’s... actually... what the fuck.”
Chaos. Actual chaos. Pacing. Laughing. Han running both hands through his hair like he was trying to pull the thought out of his skull.
“What if she’s not as cool in person?” Han asked, panicking.
“She’s cooler,” Lee Know answered instantly. No hesitation. None.
And then, the silent pause. The both of them looking at each other. The weight of it settling between them.
Yeah. Yeah, this wasn’t going to be normal.
—
The day of the shoot started normal.
They showed up early. Ran through the briefing. Did their usual soundcheck, hair, makeup. Acted like it was just another schedule.
And then…
Then you walked in.
Coffee in one hand, phone in the other. Laughing at something the PD said. Casual. Effortless. Radiant in that stupid way that made Lee Know’s jaw clench a little and had Han gripping the edge of the chair like it was the only thing tethering him to the earth.
“Bro,” Han muttered, smacking Lee Know’s thigh without looking away. “Bro. She’s—”
“I know,” Lee Know breathed. “I know.”
You hadn’t noticed them yet. You were too busy greeting staff, bowing, chatting. Professional. Sweet. Completely unaware of the way two men were currently glitching about ten feet away.
Then someone gestured toward them. “Ah, you’ve met Stray Kids, right?”
You turned. And smiled. And they both swore that the entire room tilted sideways.
“Hey,” you said, voice warm. Easy. “Nice to meet you.”
Han stood too fast. Nearly tripped over the chair.
“Huge—uh—hi. I mean. Fan. Huge fan. I mean—hi.”
Lee Know, by some miracle of God, stayed cool. Mostly. Handshake firm. Smile tight but real.
“Been looking forward to this.”
“Me too.” Your grin was all teeth, playful. “This’ll be fun.”
And it was. Too fun.
The banter clicked. The laughter was real. You teased them; they fired back. The chemistry was so natural it made the staff laugh and shake their heads, muttering things like “These three are gold on camera.”
Except the best parts weren’t even on camera.
It was the way Han kept sneaking glances when he thought no one noticed. The way Lee Know’s eyes dragged down the line of your throat when you tilted your head to laugh. The way every brush of your hand, every bump of your shoulder against theirs, felt heavier than it should.
And you felt it. You had to.
By the time they called “cut,” none of you moved. Not really. Lingering. Pretending there was still a reason to hang back.
Until finally, Han cracked. Of course he did.
“Soooo,” he started, grinning too wide, bouncing on his feet, “off the record… we’ve, uh... we’ve been fans. For a while.”
You raised a brow. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” Lee Know chimed in, voice lower, smoother. “Long time.”
Han blew out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “Like. You’re... incredible. Seriously.”
It should’ve felt awkward. Should’ve crossed into weird. But it didn’t. There was something else here. Something sticky and magnetic and undeniable.
Lee Know glanced at Han. Han glanced back. A conversation passed between them, silent but loud all the same.
And when Lee Know looked at you again, stepped a fraction closer, just enough that the air thinned, his voice was steady. Even. Dangerous in how measured it was.
“We were actually... talking earlier.”
Han’s grin turned lopsided. “About how crazy it is that you’re here.”
“And wondering...” Lee Know’s gaze didn’t falter. “If maybe… you’d let us show you. Just... how much we appreciate your work.”
There’s a beat of silence. A single second where you just look at them, both of them, and weigh whatever the hell is happening right now.
Because it is happening. You can feel it. This isn’t fanboy giddiness. This isn’t polite industry compliments. It’s something heavier. Stickier. Crawling under your skin in a way that has absolutely nothing to do with professionalism.
“Like… buy me a drink?” you ask, testing the weight of it.
“Yeah.” Han’s voice skips, then levels out. “Something like that. If you’re free. No pressure.”
Lee Know doesn’t say anything at first. Just watches you. Sharp, steady. One brow tilting up like he already knows how this ends. Like the question’s just a formality.
“Yeah,” he echoes eventually, slow and clean. “Just a drink.”
A smile pulls at your mouth.
“Sure. Why not?”
—
It starts at a quiet bar tucked into some side street, dim enough to feel intimate but not enough to feel dangerous. Safe ground.
At least, it should be.
But the moment you slide into the table, Han pressing in beside you, Lee Know dropping onto the opposite side, knee brushing yours under the table, you realize safe isn’t really on the menu.
“So,” you start, wrapping both hands around your glass when it comes. “Been fans, huh?”
Han groans, flopping his head back dramatically against the booth.
“Oh my God, you’re not gonna let that go, are you?”
Lee Know’s smile is sharper. Slower.
“It’s just weird hearing that,” you admit, fingers trailing the rim of the glass. “I mean, from you two. I didn’t think you guys even knew I existed.”
Han laughs, a little too quick, a little too loud. His thigh shifts against yours. He doesn’t move it. “Oh, we knew.”
“Hard not to,” Lee Know adds. His voice is velvet now. Too smooth. Too casual to actually be, in fact, casual. His fingers tap against his own glass, slow, rhythmic. Measured. “You’re... memorable.”
Your eyes flick between them. Han’s knuckle is resting barely an inch from your thigh now. Lee Know’s gaze is heavy. Calculated. You clock it, the way he doesn’t bother hiding the way he looks at you. Not a polite glance. Not admiration. Something else entirely.
“You guys...” You hesitate. Smirk. “You’re not just friends, are you?”
It slips out before you can help it. Half a joke. Mostly curiosity. Maybe a warning to yourself.
Han freezes. Only for a split second. But it’s there, the flicker of surprise, the inhale he forgets to finish. Lee Know doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch. He just tips his head, one corner of his mouth curling. He leans back, like a cat stretching in a patch of sun.
“What do you think?”
God. His tone. Low. Dangerous.
Han recovers fast, grinning wide, but the edges are messier now. Nervous energy pulsing under the surface.
“You’re... perceptive,” he says, nudging your knee with his. “Scarily perceptive.”
“Lowkey,” Han admits after a second. Quiet. Honest. “We don’t... really advertise it.”
“But it’s not exactly a secret either,” Lee Know finishes, gaze fixed on yours. Steady. Unmoving. “At least... not right now.”
You swallow. Hard. Your pulse jumps somewhere stupid. Because now every single look. Every brush of fingers. Every subtle shift, you can feel it. The electricity buzzing underneath it.
And they’re watching you process it. Watching how your breath catches, how your thighs press together just a little tighter beneath the table.
You know exactly what they’re doing. You can feel it. The air’s shifted. It’s heavier now. Warmer. Like stepping too close to something you’re not supposed to touch.
Han doesn’t shift away. His thigh stays pressed firm against yours, just that constant, steady pressure, like he’s daring you to notice.
And God, you do.
“You’re good at reading people,” he says, voice smooth, mellow. Almost lazy, but not really. His eyes stay locked on yours, sharp as a blade beneath it. “Tell me, then. What are we thinking right now?”
“Careful though,” Lee Know hums. “You might be right.”
You laugh, short, breathier than you mean to. “What, is this a test?”
“Maybe,” Lee Know murmurs. “Are you passing?”
Han laughs into his drink, shaking his head. “Oh, she’s passing.” His eyes drop, to your lips, to the dip of your throat, then snap back up like he never left.
Your skin prickles. Warm. Goosebumps crawling up your arms despite the heat buzzing under your skin.
“You two...” You squint, smirking. “You flirt like it’s a sport.”
“And you play back like a professional,” Lee Know fires back, lips quirking.
Han shifts, leaning into you now, not just thigh to thigh, but shoulder against yours. His hand rests over your forearm on the table, light, fingers brushing over your skin.
“Be honest,” he grins, soft, teasing. “You felt it when we met. Didn’t you?”
You’re caught. Completely. You know it. They know it.
“Is this how you rope people in?” you ask, trying for light, but your voice thins halfway through.
“No,” Lee Know says, simple. Honest. “This is... different.”
Han hums, fingers still brushing your forearm, featherlight. “You think we do this with anyone?”
God. God.
The weight of it coils low in your belly. Hot. Nervous. Thrilling. Because they’re not leaning all the way in, not yet, but the way they orbit you now? Hands brushing, knees pressed, gazes lingering too long?
Yeah. You know exactly where this could go. And they know you know.
“So,” Han says, breath warm against your ear now, “what’s your read?”
Lee Know tilts his head, lips curling. “Think you’ve figured us out yet?”
The silence that follows isn't empty. It's thick. Dense. Heavy like velvet, like smoke. The kind you feel on your skin before you even breathe it in. They're both looking at you now. Not subtle. Not polite. Not even pretending.
Lee Know's gaze drags slow, deliberate, from your eyes to your lips, down the line of your throat. His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip, and God, he doesn’t even bother hiding the way the corner of his mouth curls.
Han watches him do it. Watches. His own lips part, something soft and breathy catching in his throat. His eyes flicker, from Lee Know to you, back again,like he's watching something private, something he shouldn't be watching, except… he's part of it.
A quiet giggle bubbles out of Han. Nervous? No. Not really. More like... giddy. Like someone who's a little too aware of how dangerous the game is now, and loves it anyway.
The tension buzzes so loud you swear you can hear it.
Your heart thunders. Your mouth’s dry. You swallow once. Twice. Then…
"Yeah..." Your voice comes low. Steady. Too steady for what’s happening to your pulse. “Yeah, I think I did.”
Both their heads tilt, not identical, but close enough to look rehearsed.
“Oh?” Lee Know’s smile widens, razor-sharp.
“Mhm.” You breathe in. Out. “You brought me here to have a drink.” You gesture loosely toward your barely touched glass. “Except... you actually want to have everything else. Except for this damn drink.”
Silence. A beat.
And then, Lee Know cracks. His laugh bursts out, sudden, sharp, tipping his head back like you just punched all the air out of him.
Han… God. Han folds. His whole posture crumples, shoulders curling in, hands dragging down his face like he’s trying to hide the fact that he’s turning scarlet.
“Fuck—” he half-chokes, fingers squeezing over his mouth, peeking through them like a kid caught doing something bad. His eyes are wide, frantic, sparkling “She’s good—" Another laugh punches out of him, breathless, helpless. “Oh my God.”
Lee Know’s laugh levels out, smooths into something dangerous again. He leans forward, elbows braced on the table, chin tipping into his palm as he stares you down with that look. That look.
“No, she’s better than good.” Lee Know drags his teeth over his bottom lip, slow. “She’s perfect.”
Han groans into his hands. “Stop. Stop. You’re gonna kill me. Oh my God.”
“So,” Lee Know hums, lifting a brow, “if we’re not here for the drink...” He lets it hang. The weight of it settling right between your ribs.
“What are we here for?”
Han sucks in a breath. His gaze flickers to you, quick. Nervous. No, not nervous. Not scared. Anticipating. Like he knows exactly what answer you could give.
And that it would ruin him.
You let the silence stretch. Let it breathe. Let them feel it.
Lee Know’s still watching you, calm, unreadable. Except not really. Because under that cool, steady stare is something else entirely. Something molten. Something that hums against your skin like a live wire.
Han’s curled in beside you, fingers fisted tight in his lap, breath all jittery and wrecked, like every second of this is frying him from the inside out.
You run your tongue over your bottom lip. Slow. Deliberate. Watch how both of them track the motion like they can’t help it. Like they’re starving for it.
“Okay...” Your voice drops. Smooth. Sweet. Dangerous. “So what now?”
Lee Know doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just... smiles.
“What now?” he echoes.
“Yeah.” You lean back, drape an arm over the back of the booth, mirroring his posture now, lazy. Confident. A lie, maybe. But it’s a good one. “You’ve been dancing around it all night. Testing. Teasing.” You glance between them, between the way Lee Know’s gaze sharpens and Han’s breath stumbles. “So... let’s go into it.”
You reach for your drink, don’t even sip it. Just toy with the rim. Watch them.
“Let’s start burning the fire.”
Silence.
It’s not even silence, really. The air’s too thick. Too loud. Every breath feels like a sound now. Every shift, every glance.
Lee Know’s smile stretches, lazy, dangerous.
“God.” His voice is lower now. Rougher around the edges. “You really are something else.”
“Oh my God,” Han blurts. “Oh my God. You can’t just—” He breaks off, laughing harder, face buried in his hands. “I’m dying. I’m dead. Goodbye.”
Lee Know doesn’t even look at him. He’s too busy watching you, head tilted, thumb dragging slow along his bottom lip, eyes dark enough to make your stomach flip.
“Tell me something.” He leans in now, slow, smooth. His thigh brushes yours under the table, deliberate. Measured. “How far do you wanna burn?”
It should be scary, the way he looks at you when he says it, the way his thigh presses firm against yours under the table, the way his voice drips lower, thicker, warmer, but it isn’t. Not really. It’s a dare. A challenge. A spark. And it’s… hot. God, he’s so hot.
You tilt your head. “Oh...” You smile. Slow. Sharp. “You tell me. You’re the ones who’ve been dreaming about this happening.”
That’s when Han cracks. Physically cracks.
A sound stutters out of him, half gasp, half broken laugh, and his hands fly to his face like he can hide from it. Like he can hide from you. From this.
“Holy shit,” Han mutters, like it’s punched out of him. “Holy shit, she’s right.”
Lee Know hums. God, it’s like a purr. Like satisfaction made sound. His thumb taps lazy against the table, eyes still locked on yours.
“Told you,” he murmurs, then lets it drop, smooth as silk, “didn’t I, jagiya?”
Han physically jerks.
“Hyung—” His hands fly up again, covering his entire face. Shoulders hunch. “You can’t just— not in front of—”
“What?” Lee Know’s voice is all teeth now, biting at the edges of a smile. “She should know.”
“So...” Your voice drops. Smooth. Steady. Wrecked at the edges but holding strong. “Are you going to call the driver or what?”
Silence.
Han makes a noise. Somewhere between a gasp and a groan, choked straight out of his throat like his soul just tried to escape.
“F-fuck—” His hands slap over his face again, head dropping straight onto the table. Shoulders shaking. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”
Lee Know tips his head back and laughs. Sharp. Loud. Warm. Completely delighted.
“God.” His palm presses to his mouth like he’s trying to contain it, eyes squeezing shut. “You are perfect.”
His gaze drops back to you, heavy. Hungry. Devastated.
“You hear that, jagiya?” His hand slips lazy down Han’s back, fingers trailing. “She’s not playing around.”
Han lets out a broken little laugh, face still pressed to the table, muffled and wrecked.
“I know. I know. Holy shit, I know.”
Lee Know hums, pleased. Dangerous. His hand slips into his pocket, thumb flicking his phone awake without breaking eye contact with you.
“Guess we’re leaving,” he says, casual. Lethal.
Han groans, dragging his face up just enough to peek at you from under his hands, red-faced, glassy-eyed, breath all shaky.
He taps the screen. Brings the phone to his ear. Pauses, then tips his head toward you, eyes glittering.
“Last chance,” he murmurs, soft, rough. “Say the word.”
Like it’s an offer. Like it’s not already written all over the way your thighs press together under the table. The way Han’s knee trembles against yours. The way Lee Know himself hasn’t stopped smiling since you opened your mouth and flipped their whole world upside down.
Lee Know’s phone is still pressed to his ear when you breathe it out, soft, almost thoughtful, like you’re mulling over dinner plans and not detonating the bomb sitting between the three of you.
“I don’t have a word yet to tell you.” Your fingers toy with the edge of your glass, gaze steady, sharp. “I haven’t decided which one of you I want to kiss me first.”
Silence.
Not heavy. Not suffocating.
Explosive.
Han shoots to his feet like he’s been lit on fire. Chair scraping loud against the floor, hands flexing like he doesn’t even know what to do with them.
“We’re leaving.” His voice is tight. Wrecked. No hesitation. No second thoughts. “We’re leaving. Now.”
He’s already reaching for his jacket, fumbling, breath coming fast like every second spent not having his hands on you is physical pain.
“Hyung. Call the driver. Right now.”
Lee Know... God. He stays perfectly still. Perfectly composed. His lips curve into that smile… that smile. The small, smug, devastating one. The one that’s both impossibly cute and absolutely lethal.
The one that says, “Yeah. This is happening.”
“Guess you’ll figure it out in the car, huh?”
Han groans, loud, wrecked, tugging a hand through his hair like he’s seconds from losing what little control he has left.
“Jesus—” His eyes flash to you, wild. Desperate. “Move. Come on. Now.”
Lee Know just laughs under his breath, finally dropping the phone from his ear.
“Driver’s outside.” He stands, slow. Smooth. Hands sliding into his pockets, shoulders rolling back, casual like he isn’t burning alive inside too.
“Let’s go.”
The car door clicks open, and it’s Lee Know holding it, smooth, polite, deceptively sweet. His palm pressed flat against the frame, the tiniest tilt of his chin, gaze glittering.
“After you.”
Your pulse skips. You don’t say a word,just slide in, tension already crawling under your skin.
Han follows immediately, fast, like waiting even half a second longer might actually kill him. He barely manages to pull the door shut before Lee Know slips in last, shutting them both in, shutting you in, with a soft, heavy click.
The air inside shifts. Heavy. Hot. Thick enough to chew.
Lee Know stretches out like he owns the space, which, let’s be honest… he does. One arm drops way too comfortably on Han’s thigh. His fingers spread there. Light. Possessive. Casual. Except not really.
Han’s knee bounces. Rapid. Wild. Like it’s either that or combust on the spot. His hands twitch over his own thighs like he doesn’t know where to put them. His gaze flickers between you and Lee Know and anywhere but your legs pressed close to his.
You can feel the heat rolling off him. His shoulder bumps yours. His breathing’s all off, shallow, sharp, like he’s fighting his own body just to stay still.
Lee Know... thrives. His thumb traces slow circles over Han’s thigh, deliberate, knowing, while his gaze drifts out the window, pretending not to notice how Han’s barely keeping it together. His smirk says otherwise.
And you? You sit there. Pretending. Playing it cool. Legs crossed just enough that your knee brushes Han’s every time the car shifts. Eyes forward, but fully aware of the way Lee Know’s fingers keep moving. Of the way Han’s breath catches every time.
No one talks. No one has to.
The tension speaks loud enough.
The elevator ride is somehow worse. Stolen glances. Brushed knuckles. Lee Know’s fingers casually running through Han’s back, then yours, like it’s nothing.
Lee Know catches your eye. Smirks. Doesn’t say a word. Just taps his fingers against Han’s hip, lazy. Like counting down.
When the door clicks shut... Han moves. No hesitation. No words. Just hands on your waist, tight, possessive, frantic, dragging you in like he’s been holding himself back for hours.
“Come here.” His voice breaks halfway through, and then his mouth crashes into yours, messy, desperate, starving.
It’s not a kiss. It’s a devouring. His hands fumble, gripping at your hips, sliding up, sinking into your hair like he’s scared you’ll slip away if he doesn’t hold you hard enough.
Your breath stutters. Your knees almost give. Because it’s too much, the way he kisses like he’s drowning in it. Like he’s been dreaming about this. Obsessing.
Lee Know doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t rush. Just stands there, hands in his pockets, weight tipped lazy onto one foot, watching. Smirking. His head tilts slightly, like he’s studying something he finds beautiful. Entertaining. Filthy. Like his favourite movie came to life.
His gaze tracks the way Han’s fingers tremble against your jaw, how Han breathes like it hurts, like he physically cannot get close enough, fast enough.
“God,” Lee Know mutters, soft, half under his breath. His smile curves sharp. “Look at you.”
When he finally steps forward , slow, smooth, sure, it’s with that same predator energy. His palm slides over Han’s back first, fingers tracing up the back of his neck, grounding him. Reminding him.
He leans in, close enough his lips ghost Han’s ear first, then yours, breath warm, voice like silk stretched tight.
And then, in Korean, soft, sharp, just for Han, but you catch enough to know it’s dangerous. Lee Know’s voice drops, low, velvet, wrecked at the edges but still sharp as a knife. Right against Han’s ear.
“그래. 원하던 대로 해.”
“Yeah. Go ahead. Just like you wanted.”
And God, the sound Han makes next?
It shoots straight to your core. No warning. No mercy.
One second you think you have control, you’re keeping up, holding your own, and the next? You’re spiraling. Completely undone by the way Han grips you tighter, like his hands aren’t enough. Like nothing is. Like he needs you closer, impossibly closer.
Your back hits the wall, or maybe it’s the door, you don’t even know anymore, hands scrambling for something. His hair. His shoulders. Anything. Just to hold on.
Your mind spins. Dizzy. Electric. Every nerve lit up like fire. “Holy shit. Holy shit. What did I just step into?”
You gasp, a sharp, broken thing, when Han’s mouth drags from your lips to your jaw, frantic, messy, his teeth scraping skin like he wants to mark it.
“Fucking... wanted this,” Han groans, voice splitting, “you—both of you—God, you don’t even get it—”
Oh, but you do. You do now.
And the sound Lee Know makes? Low. Dangerous. Almost a laugh, but not cruel. No, it’s worse. It’s fond. Like watching something beautiful finally unravel the way it was meant to.
You flick a glance toward him, or you try to, but the second you do, your stomach drops.
Because the look in his eyes? It’s not teasing anymore. Not fully. It’s something deeper. He’s drinking it in. Watching Han fall apart on your mouth, on your skin, with that slow, devastating little smile. Like this was the point. Like this is exactly how he wanted it to happen.
“Mmm.” His fingers trail slow, possessive, up Han’s back, then skim down your spine, featherlight. “You hear him?” His voice curls into you like smoke. “He’s been dying for this.”
Your breath catches. Your thighs press tight without thinking. It’s too much. The heat. The hands. The voices. The sound of Han coming undone in real time, gasping into your neck like he’ll fall apart if he doesn’t hold you harder.
Your fingers twist in his shirt, knuckles white. Your pulse slams so hard you feel it in your teeth. And somewhere, beneath the wreckage, a thought flickers through: “I’m in so much fucking trouble.”
And then Lee Know’s voice drops, smooth, wicked, as his hand curls around your hip, sliding warm and sure against your skin.
“It’s okay,” he purrs, like he read your mind.
Lee Know’s hand curves firm around your hip, fingers sliding up, slow, measured, possessive, like he’s claiming territory. His lips brush your ear, barely there, a whisper of heat, of warning, before he tilts his head back just enough to look.
His fingers cups your jaw. Firm. Steady. Turning your face toward him.
“My turn.”
There’s no teasing left in it. No question. No hesitation. Just Lee Know taking what he wants.
His mouth meets yours, smooth at first, slow, devastating, but it doesn’t stay that way. Because the second he tastes you, the second his thumb skims your cheek, he tilts in deeper. His other hand slips around the back of your neck, tugging you forward, locking you in place.
The kiss turns hot. Messy. Tongues sliding. Teeth catching. His lips press demanding, almost bruising, like he’s trying to pour every ounce of control, every second of waiting, right into your mouth.
Han groans, hands still tight on your hips, forehead dropping against the curve of your neck like he’s dying just from watching. Just from hearing it.
“Jesus Christ—” he gasps, voice ragged, shaking “oh my God—”
Lee Know doesn’t even look back. He hums against your lips, pleased, dangerous, and only breaks the kiss to murmur against your mouth, breath hot, words dripping:
“See, jagiya?” His thumb swipes your lower lip, slow, filthy. “Told you she’d be sweet.”
Han whines, actually whines, fingers flexing hard on your hips like he doesn’t know whether to pull you away or pull you closer. His voice cracks, desperate:
“Hyung—please—”
“Oh?” His brows lift. “You want more, jagiya?”
Han nods. Frantic. Breathless. “Yeah. Fuck. Yeah.”
Lee Know’s smile curves sharper. His thumb traces slow over your bottom lip again, gaze heavy, half-lidded, devastating.
And before Han can breathe, before you can even process it, Lee Know drags Han in. Their mouths collide, hot, filthy, desperate, and you’re caught between them, breath stuttering out like your lungs forgot how to work.
Watching them kiss?
Watching the way Lee Know grips Han’s face, tilts him exactly where he wants, mouth claiming like he owns him? The way Han melts into it, hands trembling against your waist, like kissing Lee Know alone could ruin him completely?
It’s devastating.
It’s perfect.
When Lee Know finally breaks the kiss, sharp, breathless, his gaze snaps back to you. His palm slides from Han’s jaw to the back of your neck, pulling you back in.
“Come here.”
And then it’s the three of you. Lips crashing, messy, desperate, hands everywhere, no rhythm, no sense of who’s pulling who anymore. Han’s mouth finds yours again, gasping, needy, teeth scraping because he can’t figure out whether he wants to kiss you or devour you whole.
Lee Know’s hand slips under your top, flat against your spine, dragging you closer like it’s not enough, like nothing will be enough until you’re pressed between them so tight there’s no space left at all.
“God—” Han gasps, breaking just enough to breathe, forehead pressed to yours, voice shaking. “You feel... fuck, you feel so good.”
Lee Know’s breath ghosts down the side of your neck, lips tracing, biting, soothing, and his voice drops, low, wrecked but steady, right against your skin:
“Fuck—” His fingers twitch, tightening. “You’re so... Jesus, you’re so hot. You taste... God, you taste so fucking good—”
Lee Know’s hands are steadier, rough where they drag down your spine, curling at your waist, guiding, controlling just enough to drive you insane. His lips drag a bite across your pulse, then soothe it with his tongue, smirking when he feels the way your breath hitches.
“Sweet...” His voice drops lower, lips grazing your collarbone. “But God, the way you hold us—” His fingers trace your jaw, tilting you toward him. “So strong. Fucking perfect.”
Your hands fist in Lee Know’s shirt, yank him closer. Your nails dig into Han’s back, pull him in harder. The gasps tearing from your throat are nothing compared to the way your body moves, matching every touch, every kiss with a hunger that makes them both lose it.
“She’s... fuck—” Han shudders, hands sliding up under your shirt, breath falling apart. “Hyung, she’s gonna kill me—”
Your head spins. Your breath tangles. Every nerve fires at once, not just from being touched, but from touching them back. From the way Han trembles under your hands, from the way Lee Know’s breath stutters when your nails scrape his back.
You are the fire. You are the burn.
And the way they kiss you, gasping, wrecked, hands fighting for space on your skin, it’s not just because they want you. It’s because they’re starving for you.
Lee Know’s hand finds your jaw again, tilting your face up to his, and his eyes are blazing. There’s nothing playful there now. No teasing. Just hunger. Precision. Intent.
“Couch,” he mutters against your mouth. “Now.”
You don’t remember moving. One moment, Han’s lips are on your throat, your fingers clawed into Lee Know’s back, and the next, he’s dragging you by the wrist through the hotel room, commanding, steady.
Lee Know drops into the couch like it was meant for this, legs spread, thighs wide, the image of absolute control. He pulls you with him, smooth and fast, until you’re straddling his lap, your knees sinking into the cushions, your core pressed flush to the bulge in his pants.
“Look at her,” he murmurs, eyes on Han now. “She’s already shaking.”
Han’s behind you before you can breathe, palms skating up your ribs. He’s panting already, actually panting, and the moment you grind your hips once, slow and steady against Lee Know’s cock, Han whimpers.
“Fuck—fuck, do that again.”
“You saw that?” Lee Know grins, hands gripping your ass, guiding your grind. “She’s a natural.”
You move again. And again. The pressure of Lee Know’s cock between your thighs, the wet heat of your core soaking through your panties… it drives you crazy.
Han presses in from behind, hands sliding under your shirt, mouth dragging along the nape of your neck. You feel his hips grind forward, cock hard in his jeans, rutting slow against your ass like he can’t help himself.
Lee Know’s fingers slip under your top, thumbs brushing your ribs, dragging it up, and he kisses you as he lifts it over your head. Your bra comes next, quick work, until he’s got your tits in his hands and your moan pours straight into his mouth.
Han growls behind you and helps you tug your jeans down in a second, urgent and clumsy, knuckles brushing your thighs. His mouth lands on your shoulder, hot and desperate.
You’re the one panting now, stripped down to nothing but soaked panties, hips rocking against the ridge in Lee Know’s pants while Han presses kiss after kiss down your spine.
And then…
“Off,” Lee Know says, breathless now, voice wrecked. “Take it all off, sweetheart.”
Your panties hit the floor and in a second as he shoves his own pants down, just enough so he could free himself. Then… He pulls you down onto his cock. Just like that. He’s thick, hard, already slick from the way you’ve been grinding, and the stretch forces a cry from your throat.
“Shit—” Lee Know groans, hands locking around your hips. “Take me. Nice and deep.”
And you do, slowly, hips circling, rocking down until your ass is flush against him. His head drops back, chest rising sharp as he watches you begin to move.
That’s when Han slides in close behind you. You feel him, every inch. His cock presses against your ass, straining in his jeans. You’re soaked, already full, and yet the weight of him behind you, the heat of his breath against your neck, is too much and not enough.
His hands skate up your ribs, one squeezing your tit, the other tangling in your hair, and his mouth finds the skin of your shoulder again. Hot. Open. Hungry.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he pants, lips dragging over your neck. “The way you ride him, I can’t—I’m gonna lose it.”
You moan, loud, desperate, and roll your hips again, grinding down onto Lee Know’s cock, dragging your ass across Han’s lap. He bucks forward, just slightly, and curses.
“You feel that?” he whispers, voice high and cracked. “That’s how hard you make me.”
His hand trails down now, across your stomach, between your thighs, until two fingers find your clit and press.
You jerk. Moan again, this time louder. Lee Know hisses through his teeth as your walls clamp around him.
“Fuck—Jisung—she’s squeezing me—”
Han gasps, lips still on your skin. “She’s losing it. Look at her.”
His fingers flick just right. Gentle, teasing, then harder, tighter circles, matching the rhythm of your hips as you bounce on Lee Know’s cock. And all the while, his cock presses harder against your ass, he’s grinding, panting, moaning into your neck like he might fall apart just from touching you like this.
“You gonna come, sweetie?” Lee Know murmurs, voice low and sweet. “Gonna fall apart with both of us working on you?”
Your whole body tightens, your thighs lock, your spine arches, and then it rips through you.
You sob. A full-body, high-pitched moan claws from your throat as your vision whites out. Your legs tremble violently around Lee Know’s hips, hips grinding desperately as your clit pulses under Han’s fingers.
You clutch Lee Know’s shoulders like they’re the only thing keeping you on earth, and the orgasm rolls through you in waves, one crashing after the other. Every nerve flares, every breath stolen, your pussy clenching around Lee Know’s cock so hard it makes him groan like he’s fighting to hold on.
“That’s it,” he hisses. “Fuck—feel that? She’s soaked—”
“God,” Han breathes behind you. “God, she’s perfect—”
Han’s fingers slow but don’t stop, coaxing every last aftershock out of you, and you gasp his name, raw and wrecked, your head dropping forward onto Lee Know’s shoulder.
Han’s hands are trembling now.
“Let me,” he says suddenly, voice hoarse, cracking. “Please—hyung, let me taste her. Let me—fuck—”
Lee Know leans in, kisses your cheek, still hard inside you.
“Go ahead, jagiya,” he whispers.
“She’s all yours.”
Then Han leans in, close to your ear, voice wrecked and low enough to rattle your ribs:
“Here’s how it goes, sweetheart. You’re gonna turn around. And you’re gonna fucking sit on his cock again. But this time? You’ll face me.”
Your breath catches. Your body jerks, hips twitching at the sound of his voice like that, steady but on the verge. And you nod. Because how could you not?
You move slowly, legs barely holding you upright, and Lee Know holds your hips steady, guiding you with careful, greedy hands.
You turn. Knees straddling his thighs again, now facing Han. Your hands find Lee Know’s thighs for balance, but your eyes stay locked on Han’s, watching the way his chest rises fast, his pupils swallow his eyes whole.
Lee Know curses. A low, sharp hiss against your neck. “Fuck—look at you.”
Because when he helps you sink back down, slow, deep, he feels it all over again. The stretch. The warmth. The way your cunt takes every inch of him, slick and eager.
“You’re fucking perfect.”
You moan as you settle. Your legs tremble again. And the moment you’re seated fully on him, hips flush to his, Han moves.
He doesn’t even wait.
He drops to his knees in front of you, and then, fuck. His tongue.
Soft at first. Then hungry.
Sliding over your clit in slow, filthy circles. His hands find your thighs, spreading you wider, fingertips digging in like he needs to anchor himself or he’ll float away.
You jerk, violently, hips stuttering, a cry ripping from your lips as Lee Know groans beneath you, his cock twitching deep inside.
“Yeah,” he pants, voice rough, deep. “Let him feel it, sweetie. Grind down on me. Just like that.”
You do, and it’s insane. The feel of Lee Know filling you, his hands on your waist, while Han’s tongue works your clit like it’s the only thing in the world that matters. Messy, desperate, fucking sinful.
Han moans into you. Like he can’t help it. Like your taste is wrecking him.
“She tastes like fucking heaven—”
His voice cracks. Breathless.
“Hyung, I can feel your cock fucking her—”
Lee Know groans again, louder now, and thrusts up into you, slow and devastating, forcing a gasp from your lips.
You're barely holding on.
Your legs shake. Your breath stutters. Your hands claw at anything, holding back at Lee Know’s shoulders, Han’s hair, your own thighs, anything to stay grounded, but it’s no use.
You’re drenched, body slick with sweat and spit and the dizzy aftershocks of your last orgasm, and the way Han’s tongue keeps moving, even now, even after all that, is enough to make your vision blur at the edges.
“Can’t—” you gasp, voice wrecked, pleading. “I—I can’t—ride—”
Lee Know moves instantly.
His hands slide down, grip the undersides of your thighs, and lift you just enough. You feel the shift, feel the heat of his chest under your palms, the way his cock drags partway out, slick and aching inside you.
“Then let me,” he murmurs, low, sharp, steady as a goddamn storm. “You just hold on, baby.”
And then he thrusts.
Slow. Deep. Measured.
You whine, loud, desperate, as his cock pushes back in with devastating pressure, every inch dragging against soaked, oversensitive walls. Your whole body twitches, your head falling forward, mouth open as another moan escapes you.
“Fuck—fuck—”
Han’s still on his knees. Still between your thighs. Still licking.
His hands push your legs wider, and his tongue finds where you’re stretched around Lee Know’s cock, flicking, licking, obsessing. And it’s not just you anymore. Every time Lee Know pulls out, just an inch, Han’s tongue follows, slick and hot, tracing over the curve of Lee Know’s cock where it’s disappearing inside you, then up again, flat over your clit, back and forth, like he can’t decide what he wants more: your taste, Lee Know’s taste, or the taste of both of you together.
Lee Know gasps.
It’s the first time he’s really slipped. The first time his rhythm falters, hips twitching, breath catching like the burn is catching up to him, too.
“씨발,” he grits, jaw clenched. “너 미쳤어.”
(Fucking hell. You’re insane.)
Han groans, louder now, lips sliding wet over Lee Know’s cock just as it drags out again. His tongue swipes along the underside, then circles your clit again with obscene, soaking pressure.
“그만—” Lee Know pants, voice cracking. “Don’t—fuck, Han, I swear—”
But Han doesn’t stop.
He moans into you, licking up everything, flicking his tongue back and forth across your clit in rhythm with Lee Know’s slow thrusts, up, down, slip across his cock, flick your clit, again, again and again until your entire body convulses above them.
You sob holding back into Lee Know’s shoulder, not knowing what the fuck to do with your hands anymore.
“I know, baby,” he says against your ear. “I know it’s too much.”
But he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t fucking stop.
His hands cup your ass now, spreading you, controlling the rhythm entirely. He lets your hips fall, then thrusts up again, perfectly timed with Han’s tongue as it slips under and flicks, gentle but relentless, right where you're joined.
Your voice breaks.
“I—God, I can’t—I don’t know who to—fuck—”
Lee Know groans, deep, gravelly, like the sound of thunder right before it splits the sky.
“Can’t choose?” he pants, hips grinding up with slow, steady thrusts that feel like a full-body unraveling. “Then hold onto both.”
And you try. You try.
Fingers buried in Han’s hair.
Nails digging into Lee Know’s arm.
Legs shaking, voice cracking, heat building too fast again.
Han moans into your clit like he’s going to die with how much he needs your next orgasm, and Lee Know? Lee Know groans under you, cock dragging slow and deep, lips brushing your ear.
“That’s it,” he whispers, voice all sin. “Fall apart again. Let us have you.”
The pressure builds again, unbelievable, blinding, like it never left, like your last orgasm was just the first crack in the dam, and now it’s all flooding back harder, hotter, faster.
Lee Know’s cock drags against every sensitive spot inside you, slow, deep, devastating. His grip on your ass tightens, his teeth scrape your neck, and Han, fuck, Han is starving between your legs, tongue moving like he’s racing your heartbeat, flicking, circling, lapping, tasting everything as it leaks out of you around Lee Know’s cock.
You can’t breathe.
You can’t think.
You’re trembling so hard your muscles barely respond, thighs twitching violently every time Han’s tongue passes over your clit with that obscene pressure, and it hits you. It’s coming again. You’re going to come again.
“Fuck—fuck—fuck—please—”
It’s not even words anymore. You’re begging through your teeth, clawing at Lee Know’s arms, tugging at Han’s hair, hips snapping forward like your body wants to be wrecked.
Lee Know’s voice is right at your ear now, low and dark, his breath catching with every roll of your hips.
“Give it to us.”
Han groans like it’s his own orgasm building, and the moment his tongue circles just right, slow, wet, and maddening against your clit, you break.
You shatter.
Not quietly, violently.
“Fuck—fuck—fuck—oh my God—”
Your whole body snaps down.
Back arched, mouth wide, screaming as you clamp down around Lee Know so hard it punches a moan out of him, low and raw. Your thighs lock around Han’s head and he doesn’t stop, keeps licking, keeps moaning into you, eating your orgasm like he earned it.
Your hips shake, bouncing on Lee Know’s cock with every pulse of your orgasm, and he fucks up into you once, twice, deep, groaning into your shoulder, completely undone.
“Shit—sweetie, you’re—you’re fucking soaking me—”
And it’s true. You feel it, the wet heat spilling down your thighs, dripping onto Han’s cheeks and chin as he groans, tongue still moving slow now, reverent.
Han’s head drops forward, resting against your thigh, flushed, soaked, lips parted like he’s drunk on you.
“Holy fuck,” he breathes. “She just ruined me.”
Lee Know pulls out of you slow, and you whimper, the drag of him leaving your body almost too much. Your legs twitch once, then go boneless around his hips. But he doesn’t let you go. Not for a second.
He shifts you gently, pulling your legs to the side, tucking you into his lap. His arms wrap around you, one across your waist, one under your thighs, holding you tight against him as you tremble, shaking from every nerve still sparking under your skin.
Your cheek falls against his shoulder. Your breath is a gasp. “That was—” You swallow. Try again. “That was fucking insane.”
Lee Know chuckles, soft and low, lips brushing your hair. His hand strokes your thigh slowly, grounding you.
Across from you, Han’s still on his knees.
His arms hang loose at his sides. His chest rises fast, his lips parted, slick, soaked, glistening with your orgasm. His chin. His jaw. Even the column of his neck, all of it wet, glimmering in the low light.
He looks wrecked. Beautiful. And completely ruined.
Lee Know watches him for a beat. Then he turns slightly, his voice a rasp near your ear.
“Jagiya,” he murmurs.
Han blinks up, dazed.
Lee Know smiles, slow, sharp, and his voice drops.
“Come kiss me.”
Han doesn’t move at first. Just stares, lips still shining, eyes flicking between the two of you. His hands curl into fists on his thighs, jaw tightening like the request alone short-circuited his entire brain.
You stay tucked in Lee Know’s lap, knees pulled to the side, pressed between them as Han leans in.
And when their lips meet…
God.
It’s not gentle. Not soft. Not teasing.
It’s filthy. Sloppy. Soaked.
The kiss lands wet, open-mouthed, with an obscene squelch as Lee Know licks into Han’s mouth, tasting everything she left on him. His tongue pushes past Han’s lips, messy and hungry, and Han moans, low, wrecked, like it hurts to be touched and he still wants more.
Lee Know’s hand flies to his waist, gripping tight, fingers digging in through the fabric like he’s pulling him closer just to feel the desperation.
And Han, fuck, Han grabs the back of Lee Know’s head, fingers twisting in his hair so tight it forces his head back. Their mouths disconnect for half a second, wet, panting, lips red and slick, before they crash together again, harder this time, filthier.
They lick into each other’s mouths. They moan like they’re fucking. And you’re right there, tucked between them, pressed into Lee Know’s chest with your head tilted back, watching them devour each other like it’s the only thing they’ve ever wanted.
Lee Know shifts his grip again, hand sliding down from Han’s waist to his ass, grabbing a full handful. Han gasps, his hand tightening in Lee Know’s hair, pulling even harder. And Lee Know just grins into the kiss, like he loves it, like it drives him insane to feel how rough Han gets when he’s finally not overthinking it.
They keep kissing. Messy. Loud. Unapologetic. All tongue, all breath, all filth.
Until Lee Know finally pulls back, just barely, lips red, mouth open and pants against Han’s lips: “You taste like her.” His voice drops to a growl.
Han shudders at that.
And you?
You’re shaking again, mouth open, thighs clenched, absolutely soaked all over again.
Their mouths stay close, lips brushing, breath shared between open mouths like neither of them wants to let go. A string of spit still stretches between them, catching the light, breaking only when Han exhales a shaky moan and lets his hand fall from Lee Know’s hair.
They’re both wrecked. Eyes dark. Mouths red.
Then Lee Know turns back to you, chest rising under your cheek, voice curling like smoke in your ear. “Oh…” His palm strokes down your thigh, slow. “You like watching us.”
Han blinks, dazed, then follows Lee Know’s gaze.
His eyes drag down your body, the way your thighs have squeezed tight again, the way your chest is heaving, the way your hand has curled into Lee Know’s skin like you need something to keep you still.
“Shit,” Han murmurs, breathless. “She’s soaked again.”
Lee Know hums deep in his throat, almost like a purr. One hand slides between your legs, lightly, still teasing, just to feel.
You gasp, twitching in his lap.
“She liked the kiss,” he murmurs. “That was it, wasn’t it, baby?”
You nod, small. Shaky. “Yes,” you breathe. “Fuck, yes.”
Lee Know grins first.
The kind of grin that’s not playful anymore, the kind that says he’s made up his mind. His hand cradles your cheek, fingers curling under your jaw, and his voice is low, warm, almost teasing.
“You want to be part of it again, sweetie?”
You nod.
There’s no hesitation, just heat. Breath. Your lips part, and he leans in.
And the kiss?
God. It’s filthy.
He kisses you deep, tongue sliding into your mouth with practiced ease, tasting everything. You feel Han’s breath against your neck the second Lee Know’s mouth meets yours, and you moan instantly, your body jerking, overwhelmed again by how much you still want them.
Lee Know kisses like he knows what you need before you ask.
Slow at first. Pressed close. His lips plush and wet, tongue flicking softly over yours, then deeper, more demanding, taking now. His hand in your hair. His breath against your cheek. And when you moan into his mouth, he groans, low and rough, pulling you closer into his lap.
And then,
Han kisses your shoulder.
Then your neck.
Then your jaw.
You gasp, lips breaking from Lee Know’s just enough for air, and Han’s mouth is there, replacing him, sealing over your lips like he’s been waiting for this moment since the first second he saw you.
His kiss is messier, hungrier. Less precise, more needy. He kisses you like he’s trying to drink you in, his mouth hot and wide, licking into you with little moans against your tongue, hands trembling where they cup your waist.
You kiss him back like you’re drowning.
Lee Know watches.
His hand strokes down your thigh again, slow, just grounding you. His lips brush your temple, and he whispers against your skin:
“Look at you. So fucking pretty between us.”
Lee Know turns your face toward him again, kisses you soft but deep, tongue sliding over yours just as Han starts kissing your neck again, open-mouthed and hot.
You whimper.
Then Han’s lips find your jaw, and you barely catch your breath before he’s back at your mouth, replacing Lee Know again, sucking on your bottom lip like it’ll keep him sane.
And Lee Know, God, he doesn’t move far. He kisses along your neck, your shoulder, licking softly at your sweat-slicked skin, groaning as his hand finds your tit and cups it slow, thumb brushing over your nipple.
Their hands. Their mouths. Both of them at once, kissing you, touching you, licking you open like they want to worship every inch that trembles under their fingers.
It’s breathless. Overwhelming.
You’re gasping into Han’s mouth, whimpering against Lee Know’s hand, your whole body flooded with heat again from the inside out.
And when they both pull back, lips red, cheeks flushed, breath ragged, you can’t even speak.
Lee Know’s smile is crooked now, eyes half-lidded, voice low and filthy as he cups your jaw again.
“That what you wanted?”
You nod. And you don’t even mean to move.
It just happens. Your mouth crashes into Han’s like gravity pulled you there, and he gasps into the kiss, stunned, caught, before he groans and melts into it.
It’s still desperate. Still messy. Teeth knocking, tongues fighting, like you’ve both waited too long even though you were kissing a minute ago.
Lee Know doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.
He just watches, silent and still, one hand slipping from your waist as Han’s arms slide in to take over.
Han’s kiss turns rougher, hands trembling where they grip your hips, and then suddenly he’s lifting you, gently but urgently, up and out of Lee Know’s lap.
You stumble slightly, still breathless, and Han keeps you close, a hand splayed wide on your lower back, the other already moving down to grab your ass.
Your legs feel like jelly. Your head’s swimming. You pull back just a little to look down between your bodies and Han’s still clothed from the waist down. Somehow. His jeans clinging tight around his hips, the outline of his cock so prominent it makes your mouth water.
Your fingers move before your thoughts catch up.
You slide your hand down, palm dragging firm over the bulge in his jeans and Han’s whole body shudders. His breath stutters against your mouth, and you grin against his jaw.
“Fuck,” you whisper. “Why are you still wearing these?”
He doesn’t answer. He can’t. His hands are on your waist, gripping tight and when your fingers fumble at his button, he actually whines.
You pull back from the kiss again, chest heaving.
“Off, Han. Now.”
You pop the button, drag the zipper down, and reach in. And there he is. Hot. Thick. Already leaking. Your hand wraps around him, tight, and Han gasps, nearly folding.
“Shit—fuck—”
He whines your name.
Lee Know says nothing. You glance back and, fuck.
He’s still sprawled on the couch like a king. One arm draped over the backrest, the other lazily wrapped around his own cock, stroking slow, watching you like he’s being served his favorite sin on a silver platter.
His gaze burns. Unblinking. Fascinated.
You turn back to Han, pumping him slowly, firmly, dragging your thumb over the head.
“Need you,” you whisper. “I want to taste you.”
He groans like it hurts. One hand in your hair, the other gripping your wrist like he’s trying to stay grounded.
He starts backing up, step by step, pulling you with him, jeans around his thighs, your hand never leaving his cock.
And then his legs hit the edge of the bed.
He sits down hard, chest rising fast, legs spreading wide. You drop to your knees between them, taking off his jeans, mouth open, eyes locked on his, and he looks so fucking wrecked, so ready, like he might lose it the second you touch your lips to him.
Behind you, Lee Know doesn’t move. He just watches. Still slow-stroking himself, mouth parted, eyes devouring the way you drop for Han like you were meant to be there.
You’re just about to take him in.
Han’s sitting on the edge of the bed, legs spread, jaw slack, hair a mess, and your mouth hovers right over his cock. One hand still wrapped around him, pumping slow, just enough to keep him trembling.
He looks down at you, and fuck, his eyes are wet.
His breath stutters every time your tongue flicks out to tease his tip. His fingers twitch like he wants to grab your hair, like he wants to beg, but all he can do is watch you, stunned, lips parted, every inch of him aching.
“Please—” he breathes. “Please, sweetie—”
And then, you hear it. The soft creak of leather. The slow step of bare feet across the floor.
You glance sideways. Lee Know is standing now. Still silent. Still watching. Only now, he’s close.
Towering beside the bed, cock in hand, eyes dark and hooded, his other hand dragging through his hair as he takes in the sight of you on your knees, mouth poised to devour Jisung like it’s the first thing you’ve ever wanted.
He strokes himself slow. Measured. Then he speaks, voice low, casual, like he’s already decided everything.
“Can I join?” But is not even a question.
Han’s whole body shivers at that, a whimper punched out of him, his hips jolting up. You gasp. Han’s already moving, pulling you up into the bed with him. Lee Know steps behind you, slow, sure, one hand brushing up your spine.
“Stay just like that,” he murmurs, voice curling over your skin like velvet. His hands runs over your spine, pressing your shoulders down so your head was close enough to Han’s cock again.
“Mouth on him. Ass up for me.”
You moan, loud, already shifting, already obeying. Han’s cock twitches in your hand.
You crawl higher onto the bed, lowering your head even more between Han’s thighs. Your tongue flicks over his slit, finally, and his whole body jumps, a whine catching in his throat as you take the head into your mouth.
Behind you, Lee Know settles. On his knees. Guiding his cock to your entrance with a low groan.
And then, he pushes in. Slow. Thick. Delicious.
You moan around Han’s cock as Lee Know sinks into you, your thighs shaking, your mouth going deeper than you mean to, your fingers digging into Han’s hips as the stretch sets your whole body alight.
Han cries out. “Fuck—fuck— oh my god—”
He’s shaking, voice wrecked, face buried in his elbow like he can’t even watch without falling apart.
And Lee Know? He’s fucking you slow.
Hands gripping your hips tight. Thrusting in and out with steady pressure, enough to make you whimper around Han’s cock, enough to send little vibrations straight through him with every stroke.
He watches you take him. Watches your lips stretch around Han, your spit dripping down to your wrist, your moans muffled but so, so desperate.
“That’s it,” he grits out. “You look so good like this. Taking both of us.”
Han sobs.
“She’s so warm— fuck,—so good, so fucking good—”
“Let go, jagiya. Milk her mouth while I fuck her through it.”
Your mouth moves with desperate purpose, swirling and sucking around Han’s cock. His hips jerk involuntarily under your touch, breath hitching as you lick the swollen tip, tasting him slick and hot.
Han’s hands clutch at your hair, fingers tangling roughly as his head falls back, eyes fluttering closed. His breath grows ragged, broken into sharp gasps. You feel the muscles in his thighs tighten, then twitch, and with a low, guttural moan, he cums deep into your mouth.
You swallow every drop, warm and salty, your throat fluttering as he shudders violently against you. His hips press harder, seeking friction even as he spills, and you hold him close, steady, worshiping him with every flick of your tongue.
Behind you, Lee Know’s pace suddenly shifts, his thrusts grow harder, more urgent. His hands grip your hips tight, fingers digging into flesh as he drives into you with slow, powerful strokes that make your whole body tremble.
You can feel his cock sliding in and out with raw heat, a dark pulse radiating from deep inside you.
Lee Know pulls back just enough to slip his hand between your legs, fingers flicking over your slick, teasing your clit as he watches. The flickering touch sends shocks rippling through your core, making you moan.
And you? You’re sobbing against Han’s body. He’s trying to hold you, taking your hair out of your face, but he’s still shaking.
And then, with a low groan, Lee Know slides off you. His hand wraps around his own cock, stroking himself hard and fast, eyes never leaving Han’s. They’re watching each other, always watching, two predators locked in a silent dance of desire.
Lee Know’s breathing deepens, cheeks flushed, teeth sinking into his lower lip as his hand speeds up, stroking himself with sharp, slick sounds. His other hand stays locked between your thighs, working your clit with a maddening pace, relentless, precise, like he’s chasing your ruin with every flick of his fingers.
Han’s chest heaves in front of you, his lips still parted, his cheeks flushed, eyes locked onto yours with a hunger that borders on awe. He reaches for you, hands framing your face as he pulls you forward, not rough, but desperate, like he needs to feel your mouth again. You moan the second your lips meet his, the sound trembling out of you, high and broken. His tongue slides past your lips, deep and messy, swallowing your sobs as your whole body trembles.
Lee Know groans behind you, voice thick and low. “That’s it, fuck, come for us again” he grits.
Then… hips stuttering, thighs shaking, your orgasm ripping through you in hard, pulsing waves. You cry out into Han’s mouth, the sound soaked in pleasure and helplessness, hands clawing at his shoulders as the heat spills over.
Lee Know follows with a gasp, his hand tightening around his cock, pace brutal now. He strokes himself once, twice, then growls low in his throat as he spills across your ass in thick, hot bursts, hips rocking through it, his breath catching with every twitch.
And Han just watches. Watches Lee Know’s face twist with pleasure, watches the way his jaw drops, eyes flutter, hands squeeze tight around your waist.
They’re looking at each other. Even now.
And something in you throbs at the realization. At the closeness between them. At the way they want you between them, like this.
You can barely breathe.
Lee Know presses a kiss to your shoulder, holding you steady, stroking your thigh.
Han licks his lips. Wipes his chin. Still flushed. And still staring.
“God. What the fuck was this.”
The room spins with heat and sweat and panting silence, their hands still on you, their eyes drinking you up now.
Your body’s still buzzing, your hair’s a mess, and you’re pretty sure your thighs are permanently shaking, but somehow, you manage a smirk.
“So…” you stretch lazily, dragging your fingertips down Han’s chest before shifting your gaze to Lee Know. “You guys want an autograph now, or something?”
Han groans, and buries his face in your shoulder.
“Don’t do that,” he mumbles, voice muffled, wrecked. “Don’t say shit like that.”
You laugh, or try to.
Lee Know’s fingers trail over your thigh, still lazily stroking your skin like he has no plans of letting you go any time soon.
“Why not?” you purr, smug. “I thought you were fans.”
Han lifts his head just enough to look at you, flushed, wide-eyed, completely destroyed.
“I don’t know how I’ll be able to watch you through a screen after this,” he says, and he means it. Every word lands heavy and honest. “I’m fucked.”
You smile. Slow. Sweet.
“Yeah,” you murmur, brushing his damp hair from his forehead. “You are.”
Lee Know hums behind you, dropping a soft kiss to your shoulder. His voice is all smug satisfaction, lazy and low.
“Told you she’d ruin us.”
Han sighs dramatically, flopping back again.
“Worth it.”
You grin and let your head rest between them, two wrecked, beautiful boys, hearts still thundering in their chests.
I love your work, your recent Changbin fanfic is a masterpiece 😭💕
I recently discovered that somebody can be "submissive top" and the first person that came to my mind was Bangchan can you write a fanfic about this please 💕
purple light
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pairing: bang chan x fem reader
word count: 5.7K
contains: +18, sub top channie, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex (don’t, pls), fingering, chan gets whiny and messy, lotssss of kisses, kinda slow burn, praise kink, yappy needy chan
authors note: english is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in advance
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summary: Chan’s all composure when the world is watching; steady hands, measured words, a kind of armor he never lets slip. But the second it’s just you and him… all that control cracks. He’s the one moving, fucking, pushing deeper, the one physically leading, but now, it’s never about control. It’s about obedience. Every thrust is for you, because you told him to, because he needs your praise, he needs you to feel good. Behind closed doors, he's yours to command.
The restaurant was warm with low light, the kind that made everything look a little softer. Glasses clinked, conversations overlapped, and Chan was right in the middle of it all, one arm slung casually over the back of his chair, shoulders relaxed, that easy grin pulling everyone in.
You had seen him like this before, the way he could navigate a group without ever looking like he was trying.
He didn’t talk over people, but somehow the conversation kept coming back to him. When he leaned in to say something, everyone leaned a little closer to hear.
You caught the subtle markers of his confidence, the way his forearm flexed when he rested it on the table, the way his thumb traced the rim of his glass without thought, the way he met people’s eyes with calm steadiness.
And then there were the smaller things, the ones only you would notice.
The way his gaze always circled back to you. How his knee brushed yours beneath the table and stayed there. The faint curve of his mouth when you returned the pressure.
You were laughing at something one of your friends said when you felt his hand slip under the table, just resting against your thigh. Not possessive, not even necessarily sexual, just grounding. His thumb brushed lightly once, twice. You glanced at him.
He was still talking to someone else, but there was a different kind of smile now, a spark in his eyes that was just for you.
You leaned in slightly, close enough that your shoulder brushed his arm, and said in a voice only he could hear, “You’ve been looking at me like that all night.”
That got his attention. His head turned toward you, a small, private tilt of his lips. “Like what?”
“Like you’re thinking about something you won’t say out loud.”
He let out a quiet chuckle, looking back at the table like he hadn’t just been caught. “Maybe I am.”
Your hand found his under the table, fingers brushing the back of his knuckles. “Save it for later, baby” you murmured, tone light but full of promise. “I want to see it when we’re alone.”
It wasn’t a demand, more like a soft, knowing hook. One that made his gaze flick to you again, just for a heartbeat longer this time, before he nodded.
—
The night air was cooler than you expected when you stepped outside, the hum of the restaurant fading behind you. Chan walked ahead a few steps, fishing for his keys. Even in the quiet, he still carried himself the same way, steady, sure.
The car gave a soft beep as he unlocked it, and he reached to open your door first, holding it with that small, gentlemanly motion he never really drew attention to, but you always did.
“Always so proper,” you teased as you slid into the seat.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied with a grin, rounding to the driver’s side.
The engine purred to life, headlights washing the street. For the first few minutes, it was just the quiet hum of the tires and the low thump of the playlist he had queued. His hand rested easily on the steering wheel, the other draped over the gearshift, casual, controlled.
You watched him from the corner of your eye, the way the streetlights skimmed over his jaw, catching the glint of the chain around his neck. There was still that faint curl to his mouth from earlier, but his focus was on the road.
A block later he slowed; the lights ahead flipped to red and he eased the car to a stop, hand steady on the wheel. On impulse, you leaned, brushing your fingers along his wrist. He glanced at you briefly, just long enough for you to tilt your chin up and press your lips to his. It was soft, unhurried, a barely-there drag before you pulled back.
Before he could say anything, you slid your hands down his forearm, gently lifting his right hand from the gearshift and settling it on your thigh.
His breath caught almost imperceptibly. “Oh… you’re trouble,” he murmured, eyes flicking to you, then back to the road.
“Just drive,” you said softly
And he did, but his hand stayed where you had placed it, warm and steady, thumb brushing into your skin every so often. It wasn’t forceful, wasn’t claiming, it was a quiet promise, one that carried all the way home.
The street outside was quiet when Chan eased the car into the driveway. His hand lingered on your thigh even after the key turned, as if he hadn’t registered that the ride was over.
You didn’t move it, just slipped out of your seatbelt and opened the door. He followed a beat later, locking the car behind you, still close enough that your shoulders brushed as you walked to the front door.
Inside, Chan dropped his keys into the bowl by the door, tugging at the collar of his shirt like he was finally letting the night fall away from him. You slipped off your coat and turned to find him watching you. Not in the casual, confident way he had done all evening, but with a quieter focus, like he was already tuned to your frequency, waiting for you.
“Good night out?” you asked, leaning against the wall.
His lips curved. “Better now.”
It was easy to close the space between you, a few unhurried steps, your fingers finding the edge of his shirt. He didn’t move until you tilted your head up, brushing a kiss just below his jaw.
“You kept your hand on me the whole way home,” you murmured.
“I liked it there,” he said simply. His voice was lower now, a little rougher.
You smiled, letting your palm smooth over the center of his chest before trailing down, slowly, to rest over his belt. Not grabbing, not demanding, just letting him feel the weight of your hand there.
“Then you can keep it up,” you said gently. It wasn’t an order, not quite, but his breath hitched like it might as well have been.
His hands found your waist, tentative at first, waiting for the unspoken yes. When it came, in the form of you leaning into him, brushing your mouth against his, he melted into it, deepening the kiss like he had been holding himself back all night.
And there it was, the first crack in that public armor. The way his fingers tightened, the way his breathing picked up, like your approval was the only green light he needed. You didn’t rush him. The two of you moved together down the short hallway, his hand brushing yours but not quite holding it, as if he was still fighting the urge to grab you and keep you close.
By the time you reached the bedroom, the only light was Chan’s purple lamp and the city lights peeking through the window. Chan closed the door behind you, not because anyone would hear, but because it felt like the night deserved its own small, sealed world.
You crossed the room without a word and settled into the armchair in the corner. Your fingers went to the zipper of your boots, slow and unhurried, as if you didn’t notice the way his eyes tracked you. The first boot came off. Then the second. You leaned back, stretching your toes, completely at ease.
He stayed by the door a moment longer than necessary, like he didn’t quite know where to put himself without you near him. Finally, he bent to untie his sneakers. When he straightened again, his hands went to the hem of his shirt.
But before lifting it, he looked at you, really looked, the faintest question in his eyes.
You met his gaze and gave one small nod.
The breath he let out was almost audible, like he hadn’t realized he had been holding it. The shirt came over his head in one smooth pull, the muscles in his arms and back shifting in the purple light. He didn’t drop it carelessly; he folded it once and set it on the chair by the door. You didn’t say anything, but your eyes lingered on him long enough for his shoulders to tighten. He stood there for a beat, shirtless in the muted light, waiting for another nod, another unspoken permission to keep going.
You shifted in the chair, resting one arm along the side, and let your gaze sweep over him without hurry.
He swallowed, the movement visible in his throat, and for a moment he stayed like that, bare from the waist up, eyes still searching yours.
“Come here,” you said, the words almost too gentle.
The change in him was subtle but deep, his chest rose higher with each breath, his pace careful as he closed the distance between you. When he reached you, he stood there, close enough for you to feel the faint heat radiating off his skin, but not touching.
Your fingers brushed the back of his hand, barely there. He tilted forward, like the smallest pull from you was enough to undo all that space he had been holding, fingers curling lightly around his. The warmth of his skin was immediate, his knuckles rougher than they looked. You brought them to your lips, pressing the faintest kiss to the side of one of his fingers, then another.
His breath caught. You didn’t look away. Every kiss you placed, you gave him your eyes, letting him feel the full weight of your attention.
By the fourth kiss, his hand had gone perfectly still in yours, like he was afraid to break whatever spell you were casting. His chest rose and fell faster now, the faint tremor in his exhale betraying him.
“Can you take my clothes off for me, Channie?” you asked, your voice low, smooth.
The sound he made was barely a murmur, not quite a word, more a breath that could have been yes, before he crouched slightly in front of you, hands hesitating at the hem of your top.
He lifted the hem slowly, watching your face the entire time, checking, waiting. When you didn’t stop him, his hands slid higher, the backs of his knuckles grazing your stomach. He swallowed again, breath hot and uneven now, before tugging the top over your head in one smooth motion.
For a moment, he just looked at you, lips parting like he had forgotten what came next. Then something shifted, the pause broke, and his hands came back to you, this time with more intent. He traced the edge of your bra, fingertips pressing into the soft skin just beneath it. His touch wasn’t rough, but it had lost the shyness; there was a steadier weight in his palms now.
When he leaned in, his mouth brushed your collarbone, not quite a kiss, more like he needed to feel you against his lips. You felt the faint scrape of his teeth there, the way his breath stuttered when you shifted in the chair, giving him just a little more access.
By the time his hands reached for the button of your jeans, his pace had changed, quicker now, thumbs pressing into your hips as if he couldn’t help himself.
He hooked his thumbs into your waistband, tugging your jeans down in one smooth pull. The denim caught at your knees for a moment before sliding to the floor, and before you could move, his hands were on you again, firm, almost desperate, pulling you forward until you were at the very edge of the chair.
Your legs wrapped around his waist without thought and the second later he pushed you flush against him. The impact sent a quiet shiver through him; you felt it in the way his chest rose hard against yours, in the small sound he didn’t quite swallow.
“God, you can’t even wait, can you?” you murmured, a slow, knowing smile tugging at your lips.
He tried to answer, but you were already leaning in, your mouth brushing his in the lightest tease before finally closing the distance.
The kiss was slow at first, the kind that sinks into your bones, but it deepened quickly, his lips parting under yours, tongue sweeping against yours like he couldn’t get enough.
His hands roamed without direction, sliding up your sides, down your back, gripping at your hips as if every inch of you demanded his touch. You felt him press closer, every shift of his mouth on yours just a little rougher, a little hungrier, but never breaking the pull of that long, unhurried kiss.
He pulls back just enough to breathe, lips swollen, chest rising and falling fast against yours. You trace your thumb along his bottom lip, dragging it slowly until he parts for you without thinking.
“You’ll do anything I want right now, won’t you?”
The question hangs between you like a spark. He doesn’t even hesitate, he nods, quick, almost desperate, before pressing your thumb back to his mouth. He kisses it, then sucks, proof that he’s being good, that he will be good.
When you tilt your head in approval, his whole body loosens, “Use me however you need, princess. I’m here for you,” he breathes, voice wrecked already, words rushing out like he’s afraid you won’t let him.
Your smile is soft, almost indulgent. “I know you are.”
That alone makes his throat work, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, his hand sliding up your thigh. He leans in again, but not to take, he’s waiting, hovering, his lips just shy of yours as if he needs your permission to close the space again.
You let him. You catch his jaw with your palm, guide him in, and his kiss is fire and surrender all at once: eager, sloppy, his tongue sweeping desperately against yours. His lips part so willingly, molding to yours with a heat that makes your stomach flip. He tastes faintly of mint, sweet and sharp, and he kisses you like he’s starved, like every second his mouth isn’t on yours is wasted.
His tongue drags against yours, slow at first, then deeper, hungrier when you don’t push him away. You feel his breath shudder in your mouth, hear the small, desperate noises escaping his throat as if he can’t control them. He tilts his head, chasing more, and his hand fists at your hip to pull you closer even though there’s barely any space left between you.
You bite lightly his bottom lip, and he gasps, then surges back in, kissing you harder, messy, wet, unrestrained. His mouth moves against yours like he’s trying to prove something, like he’s terrified of not giving you enough.
When you finally pull back, he’s breathless, pupils blown wide, mouth red and wet. His forehead drops against yours like he’s grounding himself.
“Please,” he whispers, “tell me what you need. I’ll give you everything.” His lips trail lower, softer now, peppering kisses along the column of your throat.
“Keep going down,” you murmur, tilting your head back to give him more.
And he does. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even think. His mouth finds your collarbone, teeth grazing lightly before soothing the spot with his tongue. Then lower, across the swell of your chest. When his lips brush against the curve of your tit, he pauses, glances up at you. The look in his eyes nearly undoes you, hopeful, hungry, waiting. He closes his mouth around you, warm and wet, sucking softly before flicking his tongue against your nipple.
You flinch, hips jerking a little at the sharp spark it sends through you. “I said keep going down, Channie baby,” you whisper, voice steady, coaxing.
His breath leaves him in a shaky rush, and then he obeys, lips traveling lower without question. Down the center of your torso, over your belly, leaving a trail of heat everywhere he touches. His hands never leave you, gripping your thighs, your hips, holding you close.
By the time he reaches the waistband of your panties, his breath is coming fast, chest tight against your knees. He presses a trembling kiss just above the thin fabric, eyes fluttering shut, waiting if you would stop him. But you don't.
And then he can’t help himself. His mouth dips lower, over the cotton, kissing you there like he’s worshipping. Once. Twice. Then again, wetter this time, lips parting as he breathes hot against you. His nose nudges the fabric, his tongue dragging over the barrier, and the low sound he lets out vibrates straight into you.
His fingers clutch tighter at your thighs, anchoring himself. He kisses you again, messy, open-mouthed, his lips moving against you like he had memorised the shape of you.
“Please…” he mumbles against the dampening fabric, voice breaking. He kisses you again, harder, before lifting his head just enough to meet your eyes, lips swollen, pupils dark and blown. “Please, baby—let me taste you. I need it. Need you.”
Your lips curve, slow, indulgent. You smooth your hand through his hair, nails grazing his scalp, and tilt his face just enough that he sees the nod you give him.
That’s all it takes. He exhales like you’ve just set him free, then he’s gone; hooking his fingers in your waistband and tugging your panties down in a frantic rush, dropping them to the floor without even looking.
The second you’re bare, his mouth is on you. No hesitation, no teasing.
His tongue pushes deep, greedy, like he’s been starving for this all night and finally got fed. He groans against you, low and broken, the sound vibrating through your core as he drags his tongue up, then down again, licking you open like he doesn’t care how messy it gets.
His hands are firm, holding your thighs wide apart, almost shaking with the force of keeping you still for him. Every time you twitch or shift, he growls into you, pressing harder, sucking harder, desperate to keep you exactly where he wants you.
“Fuck,” you gasp, fingers tangling in his curls, pulling without meaning to. He only moans in response, pushing his face deeper like he wants to disappear inside you.
When he flicks your clit with his tongue, sharp and fast, you jolt; and instead of pulling back, he doubles down, latching his lips around it and sucking so hard your vision blurs. He’s messy, uncontrolled, but every movement screams of his need to please you.
He pulls back just a fraction, panting, lips shiny and wet. “So good—fuck, you taste so good. Gonna make you cum for me, yeah? Please… let me make you cum.” Then he dives back in before you can even answer, tongue relentless, like he’s chasing something only you can give, and you can feel the world narrow to the slick, wet heat around him. When you try to pull him up, his hands clamp to your hips like anchors, not rough, but pleading.
“Channie—come up,” you murmur, tugging at his hair gently.
He doesn’t want to stop. His mouth works greedily against you, tongue circling, lips sucking, every sound he makes vibrating into your core. When your hand tugs at his curls, trying to guide him up, he ignores it, groaning low like a protest, gripping your thighs tighter to keep himself there.
You thread your fingers deeper into his hair and pull, firm, decisive. His head jerks back, lips wet, chin slick with you. His eyes are wild, chest heaving as he pants.
“Up here, Channie,” you say, voice steady but soft enough to sound like coaxing. “I want your mouth on mine.”
He shudders at the words, but before obeying, he drags his tongue one last time through your folds, slowly, collecting every drop of you he can. The sound he makes as he does it is desperate, wrecked.
Only then does he rise, and you don’t let go, still holding his hair, guiding him until his face hovers just over yours. His lips are shiny, cheeks flushed, and he looks like he’s barely holding himself together.
“Give it to me,” you murmur, tilting your head back, tongue peeking out in invitation.
Something in him cracks. With a guttural sound, he crashes into you, kissing you open-mouthed, tongue messy and insistent as he feeds you every taste of yourself he gathered. The kiss is frantic, wet, overwhelming and he melts into it completely, groaning into your mouth like giving this to you is the only thing he’s alive for.
All restraint disappears. It’s not delicate, not careful, your mouths crash together, wet and hungry, teeth scraping, tongues sliding deep. He moans into you, raw and guttural, and you answer with a whimper that’s almost a growl.
His hands roam everywhere, gripping your thighs, sliding up your waist, squeezing your hip hard enough to bruise. You pull him closer, gasping into his mouth only to chase his lips again, desperate not to lose the heat of him. Every kiss feels like it could tear you both apart if you stop.
You break for air just long enough to grab his chin, forcing his wild gaze to yours. Your voice is low, almost a hiss against his lips.
“Fuck me.”
He freezes, breath catching, eyes flickering like he’s not sure he heard you right.
“Now, Channie,” you insist, sharp, needy, your grip on his chin unyielding. “I need you to fuck me.”
The command detonates in him, and with a rough groan, he scoops you up from the chair, hands sliding under your thighs to lift you. You gasp, arms looping around his neck, as he carries you with a strength that feels as desperate as it does sure.
Your mouths crash together again mid-motion, teeth clashing, tongues tangling, both of you panting into the kiss as he stumbles the few steps to the bed. He lays you down, hovering over you for half a second, chest heaving like he’s about to come undone, then dives back in, kissing you hard enough to steal your breath.
He kisses you like he’s drowning, like he’ll never get enough, until finally he has to tear himself back for air. His chest heaves as he stares down at you, eyes glazed, lips swollen, hair a mess from your grip.
Then he’s moving, messy, frantic. His hands found his jeans, clumsy fingers fighting the button, cursing under his breath when it sticks. “Fuck—baby, I—” His voice cracks, whining as he finally shoves them down, kicks them off.
You reach up, but he pins your wrist to the mattress with one big hand, eyes flashing. “No. Don’t move,” he rasps, the command breaking on his tongue, more plea than order. His strength is undeniable, your body trapped under his weight, his grip firm, holding you in place even as he shakes with urgency.
“Need—need to give you what you want,” he pants, fumbling with his boxers now, nearly tearing them in his rush. When he finally frees himself, he groans, low and wrecked, rutting against your thigh once, unthinking. But then he catches himself, presses his forehead to yours, eyes shut tight like he’s holding back. “Tell me again. Say it again, baby, please—I need to hear it.”
Your breath fans across his mouth, and you don’t hesitate. “Fuck me, Channie.”
He whines, actually whines, the sound guttural and desperate, and you feel his whole body tense. His grip on your wrists tightens, holding you down like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded, and with one rough, hungry thrust forward, he gives you exactly what you asked for.
He pushes into you in one desperate, unsteady thrust, and your breath shatters. The stretch rips through you, sharp and overwhelming, forcing a gasp out of your lungs.
“F-fuck—” his voice cracks, a broken whimper as his forehead falls against yours. He freezes, buried halfway, his body trembling like holding back is agony. His grip on your wrists tightens, pinning you to the mattress as his chest heaves, sweat beading along his temples.
“So—so fucking tight,” he groans, hips jerking forward another inch, almost involuntary. He shakes his head, teeth gritted, as if he’s fighting himself. “God, baby, you’re—fuck—you feel so good around me. Can’t—can’t—”
You arch under him, the drag of him splitting you open exactly what you need. “Don’t stop, baby, please” you whisper against his ear. He moans, high and wrecked, and drives the rest of himself in with a rough snap of his hips. The force rocks you up the bed, and his whole body jolts with it, a strangled whine breaking free of his chest.
“Channie—” you gasp, but the name barely makes it out before he’s moving again, messy, frantic thrusts pounding into you. “f-fuck, keep going,” his rhythm is sloppy, uneven, like he can’t control the hunger consuming him. Each thrust knocks another cry from your throat, and he groans into your mouth, swallowing every sound.
He shifts his grip, releasing one wrist only to hook his arm under your thigh, pushing it up and out, spreading you wide open for him. His strength is staggering, he holds you down like nothing, driving into you harder, deeper, like the only thing in his head is the need to fuck you just because you told him to, just because you needed him to.
“Wanted this—fuck—wanted this so bad,” he babbles, words breaking apart as he thrusts faster. “Wanted to be good for you, make you feel so good. Am I, princess? Am I giving you what you need?”
You nod frantically, nails digging into his back, and the sound he makes in response is almost feral. “Faster, Channie, please—”, and he fucks you harder at that, hips slamming into yours with raw, reckless force, his moans spilling out unchecked, high and needy.
The bed creaks beneath the both of you, the world collapsing into sweat and heat and the filthy wet sound of him driving into you again and again, every stroke deeper, hungrier, like he’ll break apart if he doesn’t give you everything you asked for.
His thrusts grow sharper, more frantic, but you can feel it, the stutter in his hips, the way his forehead presses harder against yours like he’s trying to hide how close he is.
“Shit—fuck, baby—” His voice cracks, a whine dragged out of him against his will. His fingers tighten painfully around your thigh, pinning you down, grinding himself deeper. “Too much—too fucking good—gonna—” He cuts himself off with a sharp, guttural groan, hips jerking like his body’s betraying him.
You feel it in the way his cock throbs inside you, the twitching pulse that gives him away. His face twists, eyes squeezed shut, sweat dripping down his temple. “N-no, not yet. Not until you—” His words dissolve into another strangled whimper, chest heaving.
“Don't you dare stop—” you hiss, nails scratching down his back, and he shudders. “Please—fuck, please cum for me. Need you to—need you to first—”, he buries his face in your neck, mouth hot and wet as he pants against your skin. His whines are muffled there, spilling with each snap of his hips.
He pulls out so suddenly you gasp, your body clenching around nothing. "Chan!—”, you don’t even have time to continue before his hand replaces him; two fingers shoved deep, knuckles pressing against your heat.
“Fuck, Chan—” you cry out, hips jerking, eyes rolling back as he sets a brutal rhythm. Not in and out, not teasing, his fingers drag up and down inside your walls, pressing exactly where he knows you’ll break. The pressure is relentless, constant, almost punishing, his wrist snapping quick and filthy between your thighs.
“Chan—holy fuck, baby—” Your voice cracks, every curse spilling out like it’s ripped from you. “I'm almost—fuck, don’t stop—don’t you dare fucking stop—”
Your whole body trembles with the force of it, your thighs quivering around his arm. He’s staring at you like a man possessed, lips parted, sweat beading on his chest, hair sticking to his forehead. “Cum for me,” he pants, his voice low and sharp, his free hand holding your hip down because you’re thrashing against the bed. “Cum on my fingers, baby, please—”
He pulls out just for a second and your broken whine tears through the air, then he’s flicking your clit, fast, ruthless, wet sounds filling the room as his fingers slide over your swollen bud. Your back arches off the sheets, nails digging into his shoulders.
“God—fuck, fuck—yes—” you choke, every word cut off by another ragged moan. “So fucking good, Channie—fucking hell—”
And then he’s slamming them back inside you, deeper this time, curling up as he fucks you with a pace that makes your vision blur. The heel of his hand grinds your clit while his fingers work you mercilessly, wet, obscene sounds matching your cries.
“Oh, fuck,” he growls, almost frantic. “Take it for me—give me everything, please—”
You can’t even form words anymore, just curses tangled with his name, your voice breaking apart. “Oh my fucking god—yes, yes, right there— right there, you’re perfect, Chan—you’re so—”
Your whole body seizes when he curls his fingers just right, dragging hard against that spot that has you screaming. The pressure builds so fast it’s blinding, your vision going white at the edges.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck—Chan, I’m gonna—oh my god—”
He doesn’t let up, doesn’t even breathe, his forehead pressed to yours, his teeth gritted as he watches you fall apart. “That’s it, baby—give it to me. Cum for me. Cum all over my fucking fingers.”
And you do. The orgasm rips through you so violently you nearly sob, thighs snapping shut around his wrist, back arching clean off the bed. You’re cursing, moaning his name over and over as waves tear through you, milking his fingers until you’re shaking, drenched, trembling in his hold.
The sight of you, wrecked, destroyed, breaking under him, pushes him over the edge too. A strangled groan rips out of his throat, low and guttural, and his hips jerk helplessly against the sheets. He’s not even touching himself, but he’s gone, cock twitching as he spills hot and messy all over himself. Just from you. Just from giving you everything.
“F-fuck—baby, oh my god—” His voice cracks, needy and ruined, his forehead dropping against your neck as he rides it out, still working his fingers inside you even as his own body convulses.
You’re both shaking, clinging to each other, his chest heaving, yours pressed tight to his, his fingers still buried in you like he can’t bear to let go.
His mouth finds yours in a rush, lips crashing against yours, sloppy and hungry, tasting of sweat and the wreckage you both made. He’s panting into the kiss, swallowing your moans, like if he stops touching or kissing you, he’ll fall apart completely.
You gasp against his mouth, every nerve in your body still sparking, your thighs trembling. “Chan—” You pull back just enough to breathe, brushing your lips over his, your voice ragged but steady. “Fuck, baby, that was so good.”
The words hit him like a blow. His whole body jolts, a broken whimper spilling into your mouth, his eyes squeezed shut as if he might actually cry. “Yeah baby?” He kisses you harder, deeper, teeth clashing, almost frantic to prove himself again, even though your praise already undid him.
Your hand cups his jaw, steadying him, and he shudders under your touch “...you’re such a good boy for me.”
The words fall soft against his lips, but they don't just touch him, they land like a charge. For a second he freezes, eyes going wide. His breath hitched, shallow and fast, and the weight of him shifts, pressing into you harder like he needs the contact to stay upright.
“F-fuck—” It tears out of him. His face collapses into your neck, forehead hot against your skin, and he buries himself there as though hiding will steady him. He starts to tremble, small, helpless shakes through his shoulders, the kind that come when something inside finally gives. “Baby…” His voice is muffled, fraying against your throat. His lips brush at your skin in messy little kisses, then harder, clumsy messy little bites. His hands clutch at your back, fingers digging in.
You thread your fingers through his hair and stay there, steadying him with the same gentle pressure you used to pull him up earlier. “Yeah, my good boy,” you whisper, measured and soft, and the sound of it, approval, makes him break open.
You can feel the tension in his shoulders dissolve, fingers loosening until they’re soft against your back.
The man the world sees, the leader, the steady, guarded presence, peels away in thin layers until all that’s left is this: a boy who leans into your hands and trusts you completely.
You stroke the nape of his damp hair, the heat of him still clinging to your chest, and you realize how utterly he’s given himself over. He doesn’t need to carry the armor, the composure, the control he wears in public. He’s not here to be anyone but yours, to follow the subtle weight of your hand, to respond to the quiet pull of your approval.
Everything he’s ever held onto; the confidence, the assertiveness, the careful restraint, falls away in this purple light. And in its place, he is yours, willing to do exactly what you want, desperate for you to tell him he’s good, to let him know that this is enough.
Watching him surrender like this, you can see how much it pleases him, how much he thrives on being needed and directed, how much he trusts you with the part of him that the world never gets to see.
And you know, with every shiver that runs through him, every tremor of his breath, that he would trade all of that public armor, all of that careful control, just to be this, to be your good boy.
—
+++ authors note: dear anon, sorry for taking so long. i hope you enjoyed it as much as i did. i actually loved writing sub top channie, this is SO bang chan coded......
✧ thank you for reading my stuff!! you can check out my intro + masterlist post to find all my works in one place. ✧ want to be tagged when i post? drop your comment in my taglist post
𐙚⋆°｡⋆ summer's sweet embrace
seo changbin x reader
word count: 5.7k words
author's note: not much to say here, folks, these pictures did something to me. this is just .... filth. free use but safe and consensual 🙂↕️🙂↕️ I love the idea of having so much trust that you can play scenes like this. sigh. dreamy. anywaysssss enjoy!
warnings: non-skinny reader (sorry, this one’s for the midsize and up girlies); free use in a prenegiotiated scene!! negotiation happens off screen; dom!changbin; semi-public sex; some spit; tears & dacryphilia; cockwarming; blowjobs; nipple play; unprotected sex; subspace; it gets a lil rough; a moment of breeding possessiveness
skzms' masterlist
You take a shaky breath.
The hem of the little, flowery sundress you’re wearing brushes against your skin, makes goosebumps shiver down your legs, sensitive from anticipation. The bowl of salad you’re holding is cool against your fingers.
You look out into the garden. Changbin is already there, in one of his older polo shirts, blue, and tight around his body now that he’s on a bulk. He’s in front of the barbecue, sunlight dappling through the trees and onto his warm skin. It’s a summer day like any other, really, except it’s not.
Today, if you take another step, you will enter another world; a world where your and Changbin’s usual equal relationship gets replaced with something entirely different.
You’ve talked about it at length—discussed exactly what either of you liked and didn’t like about the fantasy, what would make you feel insecure or unsafe, what would make him uncomfortable. You didn’t script it out, but you know exactly where the line is. You feel safe. You always do, with Changbin, there’s not a world where he would ever hurt you. And you want this. Have wanted this. For so long. But you feel nervous nonetheless.
Peppermint. Your safe word. Peppermint to stop. Tangerine to slow down.
With another deep breath, you take a step forward and walk through the glass doors.
Changbin looks up and breaks out into a smile as he watches you walk over to the long, heavy wooden table—one corner, set for two—and place down the salad bowl. You can’t count the amount of summer nights you’ve spent with all of your friends around this table. But today, it’s just you two.
“Hey, beautiful,” Changbin calls you over. His voice is as sweet as always, no trace of the scene in it just yet. You should’ve known. He would never just jump into something new like this headfirst. He wants to feel it out. Both for your and his sake, you remind yourself. He’s probably a little nervous, too.
When you’re within reach, he pulls you, back against his front, slings both of his arms around your waist, kneading it through the fabric of your dress. Soft lips find the nape of your neck, press a few kisses there.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, quietly. It’s a genuine question. Again, just checking in.
You hum distractedly, trying not to sink into the feeling of him too much just yet, but it’s hard, when he’s warm and solid right behind you. The barbecue is just warming up, a few feet away. The air smells like summer.
“I’m feeling … good. A little nervous. But mostly excited,” you finally say, honestly. Changbin presses another kiss to your shoulder, but it’s more sloppy this time. Hot, wet mouth against warm skin.
“Me, too,” he mumbles softly, but then something in his voice changes, “but don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you, baby.”
Fuck. The words shudder through your body, make the first tendrils of arousal curl from your abdomen. They do it for you every single time. Something about the way it makes you feel like you’re no longer the one in control, like you’ve placed your body and your pleasure in his steady hands.
And it’s why you’re here now, isn’t it? To finally see what it’s like to really relinquish control—completely.
Changbin hums softly behind you, before he adds, just under his breath, “such good care.”
And just like that, it’s like he has taken control. With his arms still around you, locked against his broad chest, his hands start wandering with more purpose, one sliding from the side of your waist up to the side of your ribcage, the other sliding down to caress the side and then the front of your thigh. The contact of his hands is hot, the material of your dress soft as it’s being pulled this way and that over your bare skin. His breath is hot in your ear.
One of his palms slides from the side of your waist to rub over your belly, caressing the pudge there, the hint of a little roll forming when your body shivers into the contact. Changbin groans behind you—and lets his hand drag lower, past your belly button, until he suddenly presses it between your legs.
You jerk at the sudden, domineering touch, but it sends a shockwave of arousal through you, even more so when he spreads his fingers, starts feeling around aimlessly. It should be awkward, the touch, over the bunched up fabric of the dress, but, somehow, it’s not. It’s … raw. Like he isn’t your loving boyfriend, but just someone groping you for the sake of groping you. Another shudder of arousal shivers through you.
Changbin’s hand squeezes your pussy roughly, making the material of the panties stick to your wetness and your eyes already threaten to roll back. But then his hand leaves you, in favour of coming to the side of your waist and grabbing the waistband of your panties.
“You won’t need these today,” he states, almost impersonally, before he uses both hands to pull them down and even helps you step out of them before throwing them a few feet away into the grass. Then, his hands find the back of your bra. “This either.”
With practised hands he undoes it, slides the straps down your shoulders and tugs it free from your dress, before throwing it to rest with your panties on the grass.
The image of your underwear just lying there, out in the open, uselessly, is only seconded in eroticism by the feeling of being entirely naked underneath the flimsy sundress—the warm summer air blowing over your slick folds, the breeze making your dress brush against your skin. Your tits are straining against the flimsy bustier of the dress, which provides no support at all. When you look down, you can see the way they’re perfectly outlined, hard nipples obscenely showing through the fabric.
Two hands appear in your field of vision, and suddenly, Changbin has grabbed your tits with both of his hands. You gasp at the sudden feeling, head falling back against his shoulder. Changbin starts kneading them roughly, thumb and forefinger coming up to pinch at your nipples as he does so.
“Ahh, much better,” he groans, and you moan helplessly. You don’t move, don’t lift your hands, don’t touch him. Because this isn’t about you—it’s about letting him do with you what he wants to. Your body, his to use for his pleasure.
It’s maddening, how he’s touching you. Possessive and without any reticence, he’s squeezing and palming at your tits, playing with them as he stares at them from over your shoulder. Every now and again he pinches your nipples, rolls them between his fingers until your hips are twitching helplessly, slickness collecting between your legs and slowly moistening the inside of your thighs. When your ass brushes against his, you can feel the bulge in his pants press against you. Changbin pinches your nipples even harder. Your hips buck and you feel so empty.
Changbin stops touching you and your head spins. It’s disorienting, the loss of it, so suddenly, and you reel. Changbin catches you, soothing hands on your hips.
“Steady,” he says, before he slowly turns you around and looks at you. Up and down, like he’s appraising you.
You feel like he can see right through you, right through your dress, where the wetness between your legs feels like it will start leaking down your leg any second.
Suddenly, he lifts his hand, places his palm square on the top of your head and pushes. You fall to your knees readily, without a second thought. Your desire to resist is already surprisingly long gone.
“Binnie has to start preparing some things now, okay? For dinner.”
He’s speaking slowly, like he thinks you might have trouble understanding him. It’s just the right amount of condescending. And you wonder if, if he kept going like this, you would sink far enough that you would have trouble hearing him. You realise with a sudden clarity that you would. Maybe you will, by the end of this. The anticipation makes your hands shake.
He taps the side of your face, rips you out of your thoughts. Oh.
“Listen to me, bunny,” Changbin says, sternly, “I said you will keep Binnie warm while I do, okay? Can you do that?”
You have no idea what he means. But you nod. Anything.
Changbin smiles down at you approvingly, and it makes your chest feel warm. You did well. He approves.
He takes a step towards the barbecue and the little table next to it. Then he turns to you. You’re still kneeling where he left you, a few feet away from the barbecue, in the grass, since he hadn’t told you to move. There’s a glint of something wild in his eyes.
He clicks his tongue and points in front of him. Away from the hot barbecue, but right in front of the little table holding the ingredients.
You don’t hesitate for more than a second before getting on all fours. The position feels insane. If anyone was behind you right now they could see your entire pussy, wet and exposed. The thought alone makes your arms shake as you crawl.
Changbin keeps his eyes on you until you come to rest in front of him, sit back on your knees. Then he steps forward, and starts undoing his belt.
Suddenly, you understand. Spit starts pooling in your mouth in anticipation.
Changbin doesn’t even pull his belt off, just lets it hang. He unbuttons his slacks and rucks both his underwear and his pants down to underneath his balls. His cock is hard. Not all the way yet, but almost. It looks so delicious, you can already taste it. But you don’t move. He hasn’t told you to yet.
“God, you’re a natural at this, hm,” Changbin murmurs, and you preen at the praise, squeeze your legs together. You’d thought you would be, with how many nights you’ve spent thinking about this, but the praise nonetheless makes you shiver with pleasure.
Changbin smiles at you. “Come on then. Get over here.”
You don’t have to be told twice. You shuffle up to him, knees sliding over the grass, until you’re close enough. Changbin’s hand finds the top of your head again, holds you still, and with one hand wrapped around himself, feeds his cock into your open mouth.
Heavy, salty and warm. The taste of him is familiar, grounding. You wrap your lips around him, use your tongue to slick up what you can and bob your head, but suddenly Changbin’s hand is back in your hair, in a tight fist this time. Holding you in place.
“No, no, no bunny,” he says and tsks. You blink up at him, your mouth still wrapped around his cock. What did you do wrong? “We haven’t even had dinner yet and who knows who will show up later,” he says slowly. There’s no one coming. You both know that. It still makes your insides clench, “so I don’t want you to do anything that will ruin your pretty make-up, okay? So you will just sit there, look pretty and keep my cock warm for me. Can you do that?”
You nod frantically, as best as you can with him still in your mouth. You don’t know if you’re glad this will be gentle, to start you out, or if you want him to hold the back of your head in his hands and fuck into your mouth until he releases. But, you remind yourself—it doesn’t matter what you want. Not today.
When Changbin seems convinced that you won’t move, he lets go of your head. You stay where you are. He watches for a second, as if to make sure you understood his instructions, then he turns his upper body towards the table.
There isn’t much prep to do. You’d planned it like this, after all. Not enough to warrant serious concentration. But it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re sitting here, his cock sitting on your tongue, heavy and musky, and he isn’t paying any attention to you.
You become hyper aware of him in your mouth. He isn’t too big, your boyfriend, but a little on the thicker side. You love his cock. It fills you up so nicely, and its size means he brushes against your g-spot with the thick mushroom head on every thrust. And when you blow him, like this, it means you can have most of him in your mouth without his head reaching too far into the back of your throat and making you gag.
Changbin above you cuts up some aubergine, the knife thunking against the cutting board. You feel drool collect in your mouth. You shift slightly, pull off a little bit, just enough so you can swallow. Can’t let your make-up get ruined you remind yourself. Binnie would be mad.
Changbin above you swears under his breath. But he doesn’t say anything, only continues cutting up the vegetables.
You don’t know how long you sit there for. Time becomes molasses, thick and heavy, dripping past your slowly clouding consciousness. You try not to move too much, except for the occasional swallow, brush of your tongue against the underside of his cock. The longer you sit, the more your mouth, your jaw starts to ache, the more your knees start to strain against the grass, the hazier your brain gets. It’s hard to focus on any specific thought now. It’s like nothing really exists except this, right here. And that your make-up doesn’t get smudged.
You swallow more saliva and Changbin abruptly drops the knife, wipes his hand on the towel next to him and pulls you off his cock.
It’s all too sudden for your hazy mind, so you don’t have time to swallow and when he pulls you off, some spit drips out of your mouth and onto the grass, a string of it suspended between your swollen lips and his cock.
Changbin looks at you, breathing heavily. There’s something in his eyes you’ve never seen before, dark and hungry. His cock bobs in front of you, makes you look down hungrily, then back up.
You want to ask if he’s done, but your thoughts are too sluggish to make their way to your mouth.
Changbin swears under his breath. Then, he bends down, grabs you under your arms and helps you to your feet.
But as soon as you stand, your legs give out, and you would have tumbled into the grass, if it wasn’t for Changbin’s strong arms, straining against the blue of his polo, winding around you and holding you up and against his chest. You slump there gratefully. You shift and hiss. Your knees ache, your feet tingle. They’ve fallen asleep from being tucked underneath you for so long.
“Perfect little pet,” Changbin coos. Again, it’s just the right amount of condescending to make your stomach clench with need. He knows you so well. He’s perfect. You’d do anything for him. Will do anything for him.
He lets his hands roam over your body, down your waist until he can grab your ass in both hands. The sudden friction it gives your throbbing pussy makes you gasp. “Thank god you don’t need to be able to walk to be my perfect little toy.”
Before the words can fully sink in and make you moan pathetically, Changbin has already leaned down, wound his strong hands around your thighs and hoisted you into his arms. You cling onto his shoulder helplessly as he carries you over to the table with brisk steps. He drops you softly, but unceremoniously, with your butt onto the edge of the table before he steps back.
You’re slightly leaning backwards, weight supported on your palms, your legs hanging off the side. Changbin looks at you, like he’s appraising you. Somewhere along the way he seems to have tucked his cock back into his pants, though they’re still hanging open, hard dick straining against the spit-stained fabric. You can still taste him. You want him in your mouth again. Or your pussy. Anywhere. God, you realise with a start, you needhim.
Changbin is oblivious to your inner turmoil and you don’t dare voice it. He continues to appraise you, then suddenly he turns, pulls up a chair and sits down right in front of you. He leans back, the picture of easy confidence—legs straining against his slacks, cock hard and heavy in his pants. He crosses his arms over his chest, making them bulge distractingly. You’re still staring when he suddenly speaks.
“Get your tits out.”
It’s hard. Crude. You’ve never heard him like this. His face is unmoving, he’s still leaned back. It turns you on beyond belief.
Obediently, you bring one of your shaky hands to the front of your dress. The material isn’t too tight, lets you drag it underneath your tits; one, then the other. The fresh air brushes over your nipples, makes them pebble. Your breath is heavy, makes your chest rise and fall, your tits heave. It looks obscene. You feel exposed.
“Now spread your legs.”
You freeze. The order rings through your head. You already feel so exposed. Your garden is private, sheltered, no hedge even bordering a street that someone could peer through. Nothing but your own windows looking into, except for one from your neighbour’s house. It’s the guest room. They shouldn’t have a reason to look out of it, and yet. Your back is to it, but if they happened to look out, they would see you, perched on the table in front of Changbin. Legs spread …
You shiver. Tentatively, you inch your legs apart. Changbin watches, shakes his head.
“No. Come on. Do it so I can see.”
You blink at him. Heat rises to your cheeks. Your desire to please him at war with the fear coiling in your guts that does nothing to quell how turned on you are. Deep down, you know it’s only adding to the roiling heat between your legs.
“Bunny,” Changbin says, warningly, but his eyes are softer, “you know what to say if you really don’t want to do this. Otherwise, do as I tell you. Spread your legs. Feet on the table. Come on.”
You swallow heavily. Your safe words flit through your mind, and you wonder briefly if you want to stop. But you don’t. No matter how fucked up and insane this is, you don’t want to stop.
Your heart is thundering in your ears as you slowly spread your legs further, then hike one, and then the other leg up.
Changbin watches, and you can pinpoint the exact point when your cunt is exposed to him by the way his pupils dilate, and he brings one hand down to squeeze his cock through his boxers.
“Fuck,” he pants out, “good little pet. Perfect little pet. God, how wetyou are.”
You barely hear him. Your heartbeat is still in your throat. This feels … insane. Spread open, dripping wet cunt exposed to your boyfriend, your tits hanging out of your dress.
Changbin continues to palm himself as he stares his fill, lidded eyes dragging over your body, from your shivering ankles, over your pussy, the swell of your tummy where it’s folded into rolls in this position, all the way up to your tits and then, your face. You don’t know what you look like right now, have lost any ability to think so far ahead. But you forget to be self-conscious when, after the first pass, he licks his lips and lets his eyes rove over you again, palming himself harder.
“Good girl,” he praises you, his voice a little rougher now. His eyes are glued to your pussy, “now be a doll and turn around, hm?”
You look at him, confused.
“Bend over. Legs on the floor, ass up, baby girl.”
You can’t do anything but comply. Blearily, you nod. It takes you a moment to get your legs back on the floor. You feel oddly weak. The floatiness of your brain making your already strained, shaky legs wobble even more. But somehow you manage. You get off the table, gingerly turn around and bend yourself over for him.
It’s more than a little unnerving, to be so exposed to him yet not being able to see him. It makes your heart is rabbit in your chest, something like fight or flight making your limbs tremble. It’s delicious, maybe the best thing you’ve ever felt. As you lie there silently, the thought of your own obedience pleases you. You stare at the set table on the other end, at the salad bowl you carried out just a little while ago; at the closed window of your neighbour’s house.
You don’t hear him approach, so you squeal out in shock when two hands suddenly ruck your dress over your ass.
“Let’s see if you feel as good as you look, hm, pet? If you’re worth fucking after all.”
And just like that, his palms find your ass, and he spreads you open. You gasp, jerk against the table, but he doesn’t pay attention to you, only hooks his thumbs into the lips of your pussy, tips prodding into your hole, and opens you up further. You can feel his eyes on your body like a physical thing, burning into you as he squeezes at your ass, pulls at your pussy until you know your hole is open and exposed.
Changbin hums under his breath, a deep, dark thing, and sinks one thumb into you.
The sudden touch, the intrusion into your pussy after being untouched and exposed for so long makes you bite back a scream, your hand coming up to try and hold on to the table. Changbin curses under his breath behind you, fucks his thumb in, then out, and it feels nerve-racking but also so, so good.
Changbin hums quietly. Then he pulls out and replaces his thumb with what you think is his pointer finger. Your eyes roll, your nails scrape over the wood of the table. He reaches so much deeper that way, the stimulation along your walls making you dizzy with a slowly building pleasure that leaves you breathless.
When he adds a second digit and starts fingering you with purpose, your pussy sucks him in, gushing around him until the quiet summer afternoon is filled with the lewd squelching of Changbin’s fingers fucking into your pussy over and over and over again. It feels so … good.
“Fuck, baby,” Changbin groans when you shiver with pleasure, your feet kicking out, sandals slipping on the tiles under your feet, “good fucking god you’re so wet.”
You want to reply. Want to be good. Better. Want to tell him it’s all for him. But your mind is no longer tethered to your body, where it’s slumped over the table, cheek smushed into the wood. Dimly, you realise you’re drooling. You don’t care.
When Changbin suddenly pulls his fingers out of you, the emptiness is like a physical ache. You’ve never felt like this before. Barely conscious. Barely human. You need to be full. Need it. Need it more than you’ve ever felt anything else before in your life. There’s nothing else that can fill the gaping void in your chest. You need his cock. You need it now.
But the thoughts get lost somewhere on the way to your mouth, only making you whine out, squirm against the table.
Behind you, you hear the clink of Changbin’s belt, then the rustle of fabric. Then, Changbin’s shaky exhale.
The thought of his hand around his cock makes you squirm more. But Changbin seems to be lost in the moment in his own way. He’s babbling quietly, under his breath.
“You love this. Oh God, baby, you love this. You’re dripping. You’re so fucking desperate for it. For me. Oh, bunny,” he mumbles. He sounds half drunk on it all.
Suddenly, there’s a hand on your ass, grabbing a whole handful and squeezing. You moan weakly.
“This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, I can’t believe …” he trails off, presumably watching your ass, as he uses his grip to jiggle it in his hands. His grasp on the scene seems to be loosening by the second, “fuck, baby, I can’t believe you let me do this to you. I can’t believe you love it. You’re so …”
You don’t expect it, when he steps forward and his hot, hard cock slides between your ass cheeks. You nearly yell, moan so loud you know whoever is in the neighbouring gardens can hear you.
“Nu-uh,” Changbin scolds, as he starts rocking his hips forwards, ruts his cock between your asscheeks unhurriedly, “you gotta be quiet. You’re my little pet.”
You shiver at the tone in his voice. It’s thick with arousal, dark with a possessiveness you know he would never let himself feel or display in normal life because he could never be controlling or toxic. Somehow that makes it all even hotter. His palms find your ass, squeeze them together, making a tighter space for his cock to fuck into.
“Keep yourself quiet before I make you,” he growls out, and you bring your shaky hands up to your mouth, sliding two fingers past your lips. The effect is almost instant. You start sucking, and your mind gets even hazier.
Changbin swears under his breath. Then he gathers saliva in his mouth and spits, right on his cock. The next slide of it against your skin is filthy wet, and you moan around your fingers.
“Ah, fuck … My good pet. So good for me. My little pussy. All mine. All mine to use.”
He leans forward, plants his palms against the table on either side of you. You can hear his laboured breathing, the desperate note in it, as he ruts against your ass a few more times, before pulling back enough for his cock to slip downwards instead.
It’s not in you, and it’s not quite touching your clit yet, but just the feeling of him, hot and sticky, sliding between your folds has you whimpering, long and drawn-out, your eyes fluttering shut. A string of drool slips past the fingers buried in your mouth.
“Such a good girl,” Changbin moans above you. He changes the angle until his cock starts catching on your hole with every one of his thrust. You feel your eyes watering, the need building inside of you so quickly and so intensely that it swallows up everything else. You need him. You need him.
When he finally slides into you, tears spill from your eyes.
It’s so much. Too much, almost, except the way it’s not. It’s just right. He’s thick and burning hot, sheathed inside of you to the hilt, where he belongs. You can feel your walls pulse around him, your heartbeat throbbing between your legs. You wonder if he feels it, too.
Changbin stills inside of you for all of a few seconds before he pulls out and fucks back in, hard and deep. Your scream is muffled around your fingers, almost drowns out the sound of his moan, low and guttural and feral.
It seems that words have finally escaped him because he doesn’t say any more, only starts pounding into you at a feverish pace that betrays just how impatient he is, how much this little game of yours has affected him, too. He finds the wrist of the hand whose fingers aren’t buried in your mouth and folds it over your lower back.
It’s everything you needed. The rough surface of the wooden table against your tits, your exposed nipples, the edge of the table digging into your hip bones. The pain only a reminder of how badly you’re wanted. How badly he wants you. Every single one of his thrusts sends a dull throb of pleasure through your veins, making more tears spill from your eyes, running down your cheeks before dripping onto the table underneath you, where they mingle with your drool. The slide of his cock inside of you, the kiss of his mushroom tip against your cervix, just on the pleasurable side of painful—because it’s a reminder of just how deep he is inside of you. Taking possession of your body. Making it his. You can already feel the phantom of the hot, sticky warmth of his release, and it makes you craveit. His final ownership.
You realise how far gone you are when you feel his grip on your wrist relent, feel him pulling at you, his voice reaching you as if through a haze.
Suddenly, you’re empty, and before you know how you got there, you’re on your back on the table. Your fingers slide from your mouth, leave a trail of spit down your chin. You can feel the breeze against your tits, rubbed red raw from the wood of the table. Your legs are tingling and aching. Changbin finds your calves with his hands, and he lifts them, hooks your legs over his arms.
Then he slides back in. You can hear his voice again now. Like the clouds have parted for a moment, with him back inside of you, where he belongs.
“Oh, fuck, baby. You’re so far gone. Can you even hear me?” He punctuates his sentence with a deep, possessive rut of his cock inside of you. His hand that’s on your leg eases, soothes his palm down your shin.
“Don’t worry, baby. Binnie’s got you. You don’t have to think. Binnie will make you feel so good.”
He fucks you, hard and fast. Distantly, you realise you’re moaning. That your pussy is squelching obscenely around his cock, wetter than you maybe have ever been. So wet and ready for him.
Changbin’s palms find your thighs, hands wrapping around them, squeezing at the meat of them. He uses them to pull you back against him, and it only makes him slide deeper. You sob.
Oh. You’re crying. You hadn’t realised it, hot trails running down the side of your face, getting lost in your hair. Your eyes feel sticky, mascara clumping your lashes.
You try to blink them open and when you do, you meet Changbin’s eyes. He’s staring down at you, his pupils so blown they’re all blackness. Sweat is running down his temples, dripping onto his polo. His cheeks are flushed pink. And he’s staring down at you.
Your eyes. Your face. Then your tits, where they’re bouncing obscenely with every thrust, fat and heavy and rubbed red. Then your face again. He brings a hand up to it, and cups your cheek. It’s tender, but then his thumb finds the edge of your wet eyes and smears your make-up down your temple. You sob again. He stares, transfixed, then grunts and, like he’s barely conscious of it, wraps his hand around your waist and pulls you closer to the edge of the table, and he slides deeper.
The new angle sends you reeling. It’s making something build in you that you’ve never felt before. Pleasure, pressure. You sob, clench around Changbin. He moans, deep and desperate.
“Come on, baby,” he grits out, as his thumb finds your clit, “you gotta come for Binnie, princess.”
You try to answer, but you can’t, your body putty in his hands, your orgasm building at a blinding pace.
Changbin curses, hips stuttering when you clench around him erratically. He looks down and spits, right on your clit, his hips never faltering in their brutal place.
He presses his thumb against your sloppy, wet clit and that does it.
When you come, your vision goes white. You distantly feel your nails digging into wood, trying to scramble to hold on to something as pleasure wracks your body. Your muscles lock up, back arching against the wood. Changbin’s hands find your waist, hold you in place as he fucks you through it, his cock pulsing, barely able to move in the vice grip your body has on him. Then, he moans, high and loud, and buries himself deep inside of you—and comes. You can feel it filling you. Hot and sirupy. Perfect.
Then, your vision blacks out. You don’t know for how long, but it can’t have been long because when you come to, Changbin’s cock is still inside of you, though your dress is pulled up over your tits again. He’s leaning over you, your face cradled in his hand, giving your cheek a few gentle slaps.
“Baby? Darling? Come back to me, sweetheart, come back to Binnie,” he’s mumbling, softly. You pry your eyes open, meet his soft ones.
He smiles. It’s like sun rising in the morning.
“There you are,” he hums, swipes a gentle thumb over your cheek, “are you okay?”
He waits until you nod, before speaking again.
“I’ll pull out now, okay?”
Again, he waits. When you nod, he does what he said, pulling out slowly, much more slowly than he ever usually does. His cock is replaced by a dull ache. A shiver wracks through your body, followed by a dull pang of anxiety. Changbin shushes you softly.
“Let’s go inside, hm? You can rest on the bed while I draw us a bath …”
Your insides feel fuzzy. He’s doing what you asked him to, days ago, when you discussed this. When you told him, “I’ll probably be fragile after. Maybe a little anxious. I need to know what’s going on, like, really knowwhat’s going on, or I might start to spiral”.
“Get the bathroom all hot and steamy just the way you like it, even if it makes me sweat like an idiot,” he adds with a lopsided grin. You snort and giggle, the sound shaking your tired, jellied body. Changbin chuckles, too, loving eyes raking over your face. You let your eyes fall shut.
Changbin laughs sweetly.
“Okay, then, let’s get going before you fall asleep on me.”
And with those words, he steps back before manoeuvring you into his arms and lifting you up. You’re asleep before the kitchen door closes behind you.
skzms masterlist // ko-fi
🔖 general taglist: follow and turn on notifications for my library account: @skzms-library 🔞 I monitor ages over there, just like I used to do with my taglist. I will block minors and ageless blogs, and you'll have to message me again to get unblocked. so just have your age in your bio before you follow!
i'm gathering in this post all the fics i've read recently and that were amazing! ✨ don't hesitate to show a little bit of love to the amazing writers! they did so well & wrote masterpieces! thank you so so much to all of you for blessing us with your talents 🩵🩵 if you see the same author several times, it's because i fell in love with their masterlist 🫣 this list will get adjusted as i keep reading ✨
most of the fics contain 18+ content, please be careful ‼️
movie night extra & lee know from @leriexoxo
truth or strip: part one & two from @leriexoxo
a bumpy ride from @/leriexoxo
wrong movie ticket from @/leriexoxo
unknown number from @/leriexoxo
babies for my baby from @sunnybunnybabygirl
michelin star from @1nthedarknessofthenight
milk and honey from @straykeedz
playback moans from @skzstarl0ver
a little help and more ft felix from @jeonginsleftcheek
good girl from @secretneverland
gameboy from @levanterhaze (this one is my absolute favourite!! all parts were amazing 🩵)
There’s nothing to be seen in this darkness. The air is cool, refreshing; it bites your skin in molecular particles. Then, big and warm kisses interrupt the mint of the breeze, peppering your neck in little bits of love, slight reddish marks forming in their wake.
Changbin’s smile ghosts across your naked body and you feel it without seeing it. His spirit is warm and you can sense him, from his eyes down to his heart, even while you’re on top of him while he’s well rested against his bed. The heat pools in his lower half too, and it prods at your body before his erection does.
Maybe it’s from the chill, maybe it’s from the heat.
“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers. “You’re pretty and you’re mine.”
You laugh at that and it tickles him. He loves being in love with you. You love being in love with him.
The dawn makes it hard to see, but you have the clearest image of his body. You’ve memorized him. There are no lights except the hints of his silhouette in the slight orange streaks of the setting moon, highlighting the contours of his chiseled shoulders and contrasting soft tummy. And you know that if you reach up, he’ll shiver, as squeezing his pec is something you’ve done one too many times — even in the dark.
His body isn’t all that you’ve learned by hand. You know him well enough that he’ll hold your hand, intertwine your fingers, kiss the back of it, then kiss you ravenously.
And so it happens. With every swirl of his tongue he eats your soul, as if he operates on this expression of love by design. There’s purity in every bit of love that leaves him and marks you. You’re not any better, you think, as your body reacts the same as it always did whenever he kisses your mouth. You lean further into his touch, your fingers tightening their grip on him. You roll your hips, and he can’t see much of you, but he feels you through the flow of your body.
“My baby’s so needy,” you whisper. He doesn’t contest it, only confirming you with a smile.
His other hand guides your hips, encouraging you to feel his hips too. His plush fingertips reassure you, that he’s familiar skin, that this is what you both have known to love.
Love like this, having sex at dawn with Changbin, isn’t as routine as it sounds. It just happens a lot because you relish in it. It’s his favorite time to do it too. Dawn feels intimate, awaiting the sunrise while feeling you, so who is he to resist?
But you figure to switch things up.
You break away from the kiss with a flick of your tongue on his bottom lip. It teases him, leaves him lingering for a second longer, only to realize it’s an unfamiliar gesture. That doesn’t bother him — nothing does — but before he gives it any more thought, his brain turns into mush.
Your free hand trails down from his chest down to the middle of his stomach, pliable skin greeting your fingernail, all until your palm finds the dip on his hip area. Then, you work your way downwards, gliding your fingertips in a spider-like crawl towards his thigh.
The fire of his general crotch area is overwhelming. Some of that shoots up to his cheeks and chest, heaving with a warm breath that’s slowly but surely becoming unsteady. He tries to look at you, make sense of what you’re doing, but the bluish-orange tone of the lights reveal nothing but your smirk.
You squeeze his thigh.
Changbin exhales in response, and there’s a nervousness in his shaky breath, but you know that it’s cold anticipation.
Another kiss, initiated by you this time, greets his lips and bids it goodbye too soon. Before he could chase it again, you latch onto his neck, then his collarbone, then the middle of his breasts, then each nipple individually — it’s almost in rapid fire, at least that’s how it feels to him, but you’re actually sosensually slow in your movements.
Writhing slightly, he tries to grab ahold of your shoulders while you peck your way down his body. Your two hands are on the sides of his strong thighs now, squeezing lightly and getting a feel for his instinctive bucking hips. He’s so hard, chubbed up until it’s solid, the short thing twitching right under your chest as your lips make it past his navel.
“Oh fuck. Wow.” He isn’t sure what he’s saying.
All elegance in his words are gone. One of his hands caresses the underside of your chin, urging you to look him in the eye one last time before you do anything worse.
You wink. Changbin reacts immediately, his cock bouncing at that.
Fingers swipe past his skin again in featherlike touches, barely scraping the surface of his body, all before stopping at the base of his penis. Your one hand is still on his thigh, the hard hunk of muscle tensing beneath your palm. You can feel the pulse of his bloodstream panic while you cup one of his balls ever so softly.
Changbin’s private areas are incredibly sensitive, and you know this. Even in sensual moments — ones like these — he’d cry as if you’ve been rough. Right now, he’s tearing up, adorably blinking as you feel him down.
For the lack of better words, he’s just so fat, you think. His cock is short yet incredibly thick, and his balls rival in width. They smell pleasant and he’s well-groomed; you never cared for any visual preferences though, because you can’t see much other than the highlight of slick precum dripping down his tip.
That, and all you care is if it feels nice. This is better than nice, you always conclude.
But unlike always, you dare to kiss his tip this soon into the night — you engulf the peak of his cock with your lips, but quickly slide down his short shaft to meet his base. There, you continue to kiss, but work your way to his sensitive balls, which twitch at your swift movements.
Moans fill the air as you’re doing this. The morning minty chill flows with his humid, sticky groans, dragged out whispers of your name leaving his throat, pleading for you to be gentle. He trembles slightly, fighting against his body to not close his goddamn legs around your head. You know that he could crush you with his sheer strength.
But what you love the most about him is that he won’t. And you know he won’t, because you’ve miraculously strained him by simply holding his thighs lightly.
No strength at all, yet he’s a puddle of nothing under you.
“I need you,” he pants, “please—fuck!”
He throws his head back onto the pillow, a cold sweat running down his forehead while you surprise him. You suck on his balls, tongue lapping up at the sweetly rounded shape, all before you take him in your mouth. Your cheeks hollow and your spit coats the base of his cock completely. His world spins and he starts feeling hazy.
Kryptonite never felt this fucking addictive.
“If you keep doing this I’ll—”
“Cum? Then cum,” you pause with a pop of your lips off his balls. “I’m not stopping you.”
Changbin lets out a whine akin to a wounded puppy. “But it’s so soon.” His voice is in a pitch too adorably high for his face.
“You’ll be hard again in seconds, don’t sweat it.”
He only whines again, defeated, knowing that you’re absolutely right. He can’t prove you wrong now though, not when you’re finally putting a hand on his cock, a ring of precum and slight sweat following your fingers as you slowly and gently pump him.
Much to his shock and your delight, your mouth abandons his balls and finds his tight little hole.
Changbin’s chest pumps, his head juts up, and his muscles begin to pop. There’s no shot that you’re doing this so casually, so lovingly. His sweat is cold but he’s warm all over. A fever almost creeps throughout his poor pliant body, surges of heat circling from under his skin as you dip your head to his ass.
The kisses you leave on his hole are as sweet as he tastes. With every pucker of your lips shoots a burn on the entrance, letting him clench and relax cutely against your mouth. It’s so satisfying to you, feeling him, tasting him, and then entering him. You slip the tip of your tongue past his entrance and he invites you warmly. His hole hugs you while he whines and cries and holds onto your head.
You palm the tip of his cock, caging him from an orgasm, delaying it more than he wants as you taste more of him. His walls close in on your tongue as your muscle wiggles through him until all you can sense is Changbin. He’s dripping, you’re drenched, sweat and spit and slick and precum mixing altogether. But you don’t care, neither does he; Changbin simply arches his back, pushing his hips further onto your head, letting you dig deeper and deeper into his hole.
The heat in his core is too much. Nothing stops him anymore, not even your skilled hand working him up. The more riled up he gets, either by your mouth, your hands, or your presence alone — the closer he reaches his peak. He’s crying ever so softly, the pleasure leading him to a new height of ecstacy, and he’s so weak yet his strong muscles wriggle against the sheets: he’s “so fucking close, s-so close,” and—
“Fuck!”
Cum spills out of his cock at the exact same time your lips leave his hole. To his surprise, you opened your mouth to catch his load just in time.
The sun peeks out more now. You can see him more clearly now, see the body you’ve ruined through nothing but gentle love. He puffs, staring at you with glassy eyes, a gaze you could never get tired of.
Then, he rests his head back on his pillow — now drenched in sweat — and he giggles. You come up to sit on the bed again, resting your legs on his still-trembling thighs, and laugh with him.
Lowering your head, you plant a kiss on his flushed cheek.
“My baby!” Changbin laughs. “What was all that for?”
“Nothing really. I just wanted to eat you, ‘tis all.”
A burst of laughter erupts from the both of you. With the chill of the night leaving, it’s much warmer in the room, bodies blushing against each other while you both process what just transpired.
Except, he’s not exactly done. Changbin’s hard again, just as you said earlier.
He realizes it only a second later, but before embarrassment washes over him, your hand reaches for his sensitive shaft.
boy thoughts🫡 catching perv!binnie watching videos of you at a work party, in a sexy dress, drooling over your cleavage. that’s all </3
🏷️: pervy coworker changbin <3, afab!reader, exhibitionism i guess, panty sniffing, cunnilingus, changbinnie eats it w the panties on baby, face fucking, subby!bin, lil possessiveness, humiliation/degradation, light cockstepping
a/n: this probably isn’t even what you meant, but this is how my brain took it so i’m running with it… i hope u don’t mind! ty for the boy thoughts this one was yummmyyy to my tummy!
he’s been cute to you. a little clumsy, sweetly shy and reserved around you despite the several months you’ve been working in the same department, but cute all the same.
regardless of his evident timidness around you, changbin’s too kind to ever walk by your office without sticking his head in to give you a polite hello and wish you a good day. it’s too early in the morning for pleasantries; you’re too tired. mrs. rhonda is always met with a halfhearted morning, neal is met with a close-lipped smile, but changbin… you straighten your posture for changbin, your eyes brighten themselves for changbin. good morning, have a good one, don’t work too hard doesn’t sound nearly as fake when you’re saying it to him. if changbin notices the change in your demeanor, he doesn’t acknowledge it, just takes the batting of your eyelashes and the seductive curl of your lips as they come, even when his eyes shake behind the lenses of his clear glasses.
changbin always looks nice in his wooly sweaters and cotton polos, his ass tight and round in his beige khakis, but the pinstripe suit he’s wearing tonight has you ogling him every chance you get. moony fixation on him aside, you’re not typically the one doing the ogling, but changbin cleans up nice and you do have eyes.
he’s part of the reason you’re dressed the way you are tonight. a company-wide dinner at some swanky, rentable venue space to celebrate a successful fiscal year in sales is a good enough excuse to dress up at least a little bit, but you shaved for this, you’re wearing a new dress and that pistachio perfume you’ve recently been hooked on, and you didn’t do any of that for the accounting department.
you can tell changbin appreciates the extra effort you put into your attire because he can’t stop glancing at your legs. you’re not seated at the same table but you interact with him like you are, crossing your legs to give him a better view of the smooth skin and angling your body towards him while you talk with your supervisor.
changbin is easy to tease. he’s sweet, you like his goofy laugh and the way his cheeks bunch up when he tries not to smile. you’ve gotten him hard enough times now that you know his tells. his ears are red, two cute little strawberries you could eat right up. he speaks louder to the people around him so his voice is what they focus on instead of managing to somehow notice his fattening erection under the pristine, white tablecloth.
the promise of a group picture from your department head later in the night is enough incentive to worm your way through the crowd of your coworkers and straight to his side. you touch a light hand to his back so you don’t spook him, grin your hello when he turns away from hyunjin to look your way. out of the corner of your eye, he lifts his arm as if to wrap it around your waist to pull you closer, but it doesn’t get too far before falling limply to his side again.
someone you don’t recognize from another department takes the picture, and you press yourself to changbin’s side. people are crowded around you, leaning in close to be seen in the frame or to not, but you have enough room to stand up straight and you both know it. that doesn’t stop you from arching your back to press the side of your chest against his arm.
he’s warm. even through his coat you can feel the warmth that radiates from his skin. he runs hot. you wonder how hot he’d run when you finally get him naked, when you finally get him in your bed to play. your nipples tighten under your dress.
dessert is nice, something rich and decadent that sticks to the roof of your mouth and your tastebuds, but changbin’s hazy attention is even nicer. the neck of your dress isn’t low cut enough to be inappropriate, but if you lean over far enough, lean your tits against the table while you talk so they press up, well, who’s to say?
you catch his eyes, they linger for a moment before he frantically looks away, like he knows he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
well that won’t do.
he’s looking at his lap the next time your gaze falls to him, bottom lip pouting cutely as he fiddles with what you assume to be his phone under the table.
the decision to get up and make your way to him is an easy one. you’re curious as to what could possibly hold his attention more than you’re able to, but when you walk up behind the almost empty table he’s sitting at, your pride rears its head and roars like a lion.
changbin’s looking at the group picture from earlier, sent in a group chat by your department head right after it was taken. his thick fingers have zoomed in on the pretty swell of your cleavage that’s pillowed right on his arm. he’s pressing his thumb to the screen every couple of seconds, image coming to life right under the pad of his finger.
a live picture.
you watch him replay and replay and replay the image with a satisfied grin tugging at the corner of your lipstick stained lips, watching him watch you press your breasts to his arm over and over again.
changbin’s so enraptured by the image on his phone screen that he doesn’t seem to hear the light clacking of your heels behind him. it’s only when you press your lips to his pink ear that he startles and hurriedly locks his phone, turning it over in his lap.
“you’re a little freak, changbinnie,” you whisper.
changbin’s head bobbles. he’s so fucking cute with his fearful, wide eyes, his burning ears. he’s stuttering something awful and you don’t bother to help him out, just tilting your head to the side and listening to him rasp out an intelligent uh- i-! hi.. hi, hi. um, it’s not-? it’s not- sorry, sorry i-, i wasn’t- i really…
you turn away from him abruptly and leave changbin — stammering and embarrassed — behind at his table. your heels clack heavily on the linoleum as you walk to the mouth of the lobby corridor, only pausing for a moment to look behind you and make sure changbin is still watching. and obviously, he so obviously is, and a quirk to your lips has him nearly leaping from his seat to follow behind you.
luckily the bathroom is quiet, the only thing you hear when you open the door is the slight buzzing from the overhead light and the grit of the platform of your shoe on the tile.
changbin is right on your heels though, squeezing through the closing door and pressing his back against it when he’s inside. his chest is heaving. you don’t know if it’s because he hurried to meet you or because he’s embarrassed. maybe it’s a little bit of both.
you look at him with expectant eyes, a sharply raised brow, and changbin crumbles underneath your gaze.
“i’m so sorry,” he heaves. “i’m so, so sorry. that was really wrong of me. if you- if you want to tell our supervisor, you should. i- i really think you should, you should feel safe where you work, and i-”
you cut him off with a raise of your hand, and changbin’s voice stops in its tracks. good dog.
“you’re sorry?” you implore. changbin nods so hard that his glasses slip down the slope of his round nose. he’s looking at you with the most pitiful eyes, with a downturn of his pretty, plump lips. his apology is genuine, but the power you hold over him is intoxicating. you like the way he looked at your picture, you like the way he wants you because you want him just as much. “get on your knees and show me how sorry then.”
it’s immediate, the way changbin drops to his knees. he looks good like that, pliant and yielding before you, with his sweet, sparkly eyes looking up so reverently at you where you stand tall. a devotee to a deity.
changbin sways clumsily on his knees when you lift the skirt of your dress. he watches raptly as you reveal your legs to him, your plush thighs, the silky panties that hide where you’re wet for him. you both lean forward at the same time, and the wild smile that grows on your lips when he presses his nose right to the sticky gusset of your panties couldn’t be stopped if you tried. you can feel the pressure from his puckering lips, but the frantic inhaling from his round little nose can’t be missed either.
“you like the way i smell, baby?” you laugh. changbin moans against you, a whiny little thing. “you’re so fucking nasty. fucking pervert, what if this is all you get, huh? a nose full of my panties…”
he tries to pull away to speak, but you yank him closer to you so he can’t. it isn’t until his eyes are rolling in his skull that you tug on his thick curls again, giving him just enough room to pull away and speak where you can hear him.
“i’ll cherish it. i will, it’s enough. it’s more than enough. you- you smell…” another long whiff. he nudges back between your legs, your panty covered labia. “perfect.”
you throw your head back. he’s such a sweet talker, he has such a good mouth. your hand cups the back of his head to push him tighter against you, and changbin takes it in stride, mouthing and lapping at your covered cunt like it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten. he has to be able to taste you. you’re leaking, drooling sweet and tangy into your underwear that’s uncomfortably wet from his spit. if he sucks on the fabric he can swallow your taste, and he does, throat bobbing frantically to gulp as much of you down as he can.
“there you go,” you goad. the way you’re bunching your skirt up against your belly has to be wrinkling the thin fabric, but that’s the least of your worries. changbin’s tangible desperation has you feeling just as needy, just as wild with your want for him that you tug the neck of your dress down until your breasts are spilling over it. your nipples tighten when the chill of the air touches them, and the hand that isn’t tangled in his hair flies up to knead at your sensitive chest. “get- get in there, get in there, fuck… eat it.”
another pathetic whine. you can feel it better this time but only because changbin tugs your soaked panties to the side. his tongue is fucking heaven on your swollen clit, laving up and down your slit and probing at your clenching hole. he eats you messily, smacks his lips and pants hotly against your core as he struggles to breathe. his mouth is magic, his hands cup the backs of your thighs to keep your steady on your heels. you love the way he’s pleasing you, but it’s his eyes, his sweet, soft gaze that makes you want to ruin him for anyone else.
a step forward from you has changbin leaning onto his haunches, another step forward and you’re crowding him against the door. the only thing keeping his head from thunking against it is your hand cupping the back of it and tickling his curls. he has nowhere to go like this, bracketed by your trembling thighs and the hard wood of the bathroom door. his eyes remain the same, that gaze is as sweet as spun sugar.
changbin’s pressing frantic kisses to your labia and as much of your thighs as he can reach, chanting “yes, yes, take from me. use me to cum, please, you can,” and that’s enough for you to shut him up again with your needy cunt, standing over him and rolling your hips onto his pliant face to take, to use.
your cheek is smushed against the door. you’re almost certain you’re drooling onto the wood, but the wild grinding of your hips takes precedence. it’s so good like this, so dirty, fucking changbin’s face roughly in this stupid, fancy bathroom while your coworkers mill about mere yards away.
the sight in the mirror is your immediate undoing. you can’t look away, even when your eyes fight to roll and close and flutter, you force them open so you can watch yourself use changbin for your pleasure. your hips rut down harshly onto his slick tongue and soft lips, your chest bounces with the force of your movement. you look like a whore. you feel like one, sexy and wanted and good. changbin’s tongue lays flat against your throbbing clit; it makes you jolt, and the fabric of your dress slips from your hands and falls over his head before he nudges it away with a quick hand. it retreats right back to your thigh when he’s done. you’re lucky changbin’s hands are holding you because your orgasm leaves you shaking like a leaf. one of your heels clacks arrhythmically on the tile floor, and changbin soothes his hands in slow circles.
changbin looks just as dazed as you feel when you pull away from him. his hair is a mess, his glasses askew on his round face. the collar of his suit has come unbuttoned. you’re already addicted to the way your slick looks smeared across his lips and chin, wetting the tip of his little nose. you want him. you’ve got him.
he’s hard in his pants, aching by the looks of it, bulge fat enough to make your mouth water. you press your heeled foot to it to make him gasp, and changbin grasps your ankle.
“if only i’d let you hump my foot to cum, huh?” a tease. you pout at him, pressing the toe of your heel into him harder. changbin’s hips buck but he stops himself immediately. “this is mine to play with, not yours.”
he nods, and you smile. how could you not when his eyes look at you with such utter devotion?
changbin leans into your palm when you cup his cheek.
what a pliant little boy, a twisted little pervert, so sweet and gross and pussy-whipped for you already. he doesn’t have to know that you’re down just as badly as he is, that you’re just as addicted to him as he is to you.
he doesn’t have to know, but you think he does anyway.
🐺꒷꒦⊹ ࣪ ˖ᡣ𐭩 give you what you need
lee felix x f!reader x bang chan
Your preheat hit this morning, in the middle of your first class. Your stomach tying itself into knots, the first cramp tearing your abdomen apart, a cold sweat beading on your forehead by the time you stumbled into your next class, the one you shared with Felix – dragging him right into his own preheat as soon as he wrapped his lithe, familiar arms around you.
So, really, when the door to your bedroom creaks open, and you hear Chan hesitantly calling your name, it’s your own fault. Your own fault that you didn’t tell anyone, that you just hurried home, half ripped each other's clothes off and went at it. That you were panting and moaning into each other’s mouths so loud that you didn’t hear the front door get unlocked by the only person except for you and Felix who has a key; the only alpha you both trust, the unofficial pack alpha to your pack of friends.
OR
You and Felix have been helping each other through your heats for years – until Chan walks in on you.
word count: 6.6k words
author's note: skzms omegaverse debut!! wrote this slick smut because I've been having a rough time and needed distraction. straight filth! with a lil bit of feelings ofc <3 but yeah, enjoy!! also to the people who wanted chanlix, I hope this scratches the itch!
warnings: omegaverse! typical warnings apply: unprotected sex, breeding, so much slick, hints of pred/prey in the way they talk; alpha!chan, omega!reader, omega!felix with a boypussy and a little cock; omegas scissoring <3; biting and a tiiiny moment of blood
skzms' masterlist
Felix licks into your mouth with a barely contained, breathless whimper, his hand sliding down to grip your ass and drag you closer, smearing a strip of your milky lemonade slick against his naked thigh in the process.
You follow the lead of his hands, arching into him, brain already deliriously foggy as your hands slide over the slope of his back and down, down, down, until you can press a fingertip against his leaking hole, sending him reeling into your arms, moaning into your mouth so hard a string of drool drips between you and onto the sheets.
It’s become a ritual of sorts, for you and Felix to help each other through your heats — even if it only takes the edge off, doesn’t fully satiate that most base kind of need that settles so deeply into your bones during that time. It was the obvious choice when your heats started to sync up because you were living together. That and, as Felix vehemently told you, he’d rather do this than let either of you be touched by some predatory alphas when you were at your most vulnerable.
Felix’s hands tighten on your body, and he hauls you closer until he can grind his small, barely developed omega cock against your clit, and you can smell his scent explode in the room as a gush of slick drips out of his pussy. You’re sure the smell of strawberry lemonade is permeating the rest of the apartment at this point, if not reaching into the hallway.
With a desperate huff, Felix parts from you, an irritated little scowl on his pretty, flushed face. He struggles to sit up between your legs, rips his cardigan off, tossing it somewhere onto the floor before winding his pretty little hands around your thigh and manhandling you until you’re on your side, Felix sitting between your thighs, straddling one of them. He drags up his shirt, puts the hem of it between his teeth as he shuffles forward, hugging your leg against his chest, spreading you open so lewdly it satisfies something deep within you. Presenting. To be taken.
His hole, hot and drippy, with his little cock at the top, makes contact with your throbbing pussy, and it sends pleasure shivering through your entire body. There’s a loud squelch when slick skin slides against slick skin, your sensitive pussy rubbing against his. The moan Felix lets out before his instincts kick in, and he starts humping you, is deafening. His hips kick forward again and again, his cock dragging over your hole, sometimes even slipping inside with the force with which he’s humping you, making you leak more, try to clench around him, keep him inside even if he’s small. He’d come inside you before like this, and it had felt like nothing you’ve ever felt before.
With a particularly good roll of his hips, Felix throws his head back and almost howls. When his head drops forward, his eyes are wild and his canines are poking against the plush of his lips – his body wants to mate. You can feel a tingling in your jaw as your body responds to him readily.
Your preheat hit this morning, in the middle of your first class. Your stomach tying itself into knots, the first cramp tearing your abdomen apart, a cold sweat beading on your forehead by the time you stumbled into your next class, the one you shared with Felix – dragging him right into his own preheat as soon as he wrapped his lithe, familiar arms around you.
So you had no time to warn anyone, to let your friends know, to ask someone to bring you some groceries to help you get through the next few days. Because even if Felix was also an omega, your body knew him now, knew that when he was close, so was relief – so as soon as your delirious preheat brain smelled him, it was done. Game over. You needed him and you needed him now.
You left that class halfway through, Felix’s hand clammy in yours, his small boner pressing against your ass as he held you tight while waiting for the bus, letting you bury your face in his scent gland on the ride home to tide you over, even as you could feel your slick dampening your panties, could hear his aborted little gasps in his throat at the sensation. Though, luckily, to everyone else, you just looked like one omega, taking care of another. Because that’s what you were, right? Just … friends, helping each other out. Out of necessity. Though, you would really call Felix your best friend. You were always together, attached at the hip, always sitting next to each other or on top of one another, even when with your other friends, who never failed to tease you about it. Because teasing was all there was to do. They would never take you seriously after all.
Omegas didn’t get into relationships with other omegas. It just wasn’t done, didn’t make any evolutionary sense.
It doesn’t matter. You swallow down the bitterness before your scent can sour and tip Felix off because he would stop. Go against his biology and every nerve in his body screaming for friction to stop and ask you what’s wrong. And you don’t want to think. You want the cramps to stop – want to come, want to spill hot and slick all over Felix’s little cock or his fingers or your mouth, and then you want to help him get there, too, and snuggle down into your haphazardly thrown together nest and scent each other until you both fell asleep. Groceries and texting your friends be damned.
So, really, when the door to your bedroom creaks open, and you hear Chan hesitantly calling your name, it’s your own fault. Your own fault that you didn’t tell anyone, that you just hurried home, half ripped each other's clothes off and went at it. That you were panting and moaning into each other’s mouths so loud that you didn’t hear the front door get unlocked by the only person except for you and Felix who has a key; the only alpha you both trust, the unofficial pack alpha to your pack of friends.
You don’t know what he walks into, but you can only imagine what you must look like when you blink your hazy eyes open, and you meet his wide eyes. His pupils are so blown they look almost black, and you can see the barely perceptible rise of his chest, the flare of his nostrils as he inhales and his next breath shudders out of him.
“Sh-shit I’m so s-sorry,” Chan exclaims, his voice thick with something you can’t put your finger on.
Felix’s head whips up in his direction, and he freezes, then sniffs the air.
That’s when you notice it, too – Chan’s scent. Subtle enough in its normal form, it’s rich, earthy vanilla, like it was just scraped out of the pod, now thickening with something that’s almost alcoholic.
Arousal, you realise.
His gaze trained on your face as if he’s trying not to look down where you and Felix are naked and still connected. Felix grinds forward and everything’s suddenly so much wetter. You mewl and watch as Chan’s hands ball into fists.
“D-do you do this a lot? No, don’t answer that, I mean, fuck, I’m so sorry,” Chan whines and shakes himself, like he’s trying to shake the thoughts out of his head. Felix looks at you. You look at him. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip, and his cock jumps where he’s still slowly, absentmindedly rutting it against your pussy. There’s a squelch that makes Chan wince.
“T-that was inappropriate, I’m so sorry, it’s hard to think straight when you … you know what, I’m just … I’m just gonna g-go.”
He takes a shaky step backwards, towards the door, but Felix’s voice stops him dead in his tracks.
“Don’t.”
Chan freezes. He looks unsure. There’s a thick bulge in his jeans now that makes your mouth water. You have a hard time thinking but you know one thing – you can’t let him leave now.
“Stay,” you breathe, try to make your voice sound soothing, but it comes out in something more akin to a purr. Felix nearly answers with one of his own, and you watch as Chan shivers.
Then Felix gets up. You bite back the whimper at the loss of his warmth, your knees knocking together on instinct, trying to protect your modesty even though there’s nothing more that you want than to roll over and present yourself for Chan’s taking. Chan’s eyes drop between your legs and for a delicious second stay glued there, before he flushes a darker red and looks at Felix instead — curses when he looks down and sees Felix’s slick drip down his inner thighs, his cock standing proudly between his legs. Chan screws his eyes shut and crosses his hands in front of his crotch, as if it could hide any of it.
As if drawn by an invisible string, you get up, too. Felix hears you coming, lets you wrap yourself around his back, tugs your arms tighter around himself as you stand in front of Chan, who still has his eyes screwed shut. Chan’s scent is overwhelming now, heavy and dark, like he’s barely holding it together, and your scent sweetens in response. Like you’re trying to make yourself more tempting, trying to lure your alpha into giving you what you want. You feel dizzy with want.
When Felix steps forward, you join him. You don’t need to speak, an unspoken understanding of what you want hanging between you.
You take Chan’s hand as Felix walks up behind him, gently pushes him towards the bed. Chan seems to resist for a second, before he sinks down onto the edge of it.
Felix smiles at him.
“Alpha,” he purrs, and Chan’s mouth falls open. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip. You need to resist the urge to lean in and suck it into your mouth.
“Felix, I don’t know if this is a good idea,” he starts, cuts himself off with a groan when you sink onto the bed next to him and nuzzle into his neck, right over his scent gland. It smells good, so unbelievably good, and it sends shivers of contentment through you, your limbs loosening, body warming. The knots in your stomach are less taut, some of the confusion settling, being replaced by a dizzying, all-encompassing kind of need.
Distantly you notice the bed dip, then a loud groan ripples through Chan’s chest. When you blink your eyes open, Felix is nuzzling into the other side of Chan’s neck, his own eyes slipped shut, one of his hands sliding over, grabbing at Chan’s chest. Your fingers dig into Chan’s thigh harder, slip a little further between his legs, scratch again the seam of Chan’s pants.
“F-fuck,” Chan breathes out, and you pull back enough to look at him. The eye contact almost sobers him.
“Y-you’re not in your right mind to agree to this,” he mumbles, hisses when Felix drags his teeth over his sensitive skin, “you’re in heat. I can’t … fuck … I couldn’t take advantage of you like this.”
You scowl at him.
“As if we never asked you for help before.”
Because you did. Both of you, at some point in time, had gone to him, the one alpha you trusted more than anyone, and asked if he would help you with your heats. And Chan had declined. Had, truthfully, shattered your little heart, absolutely devastated you, and made you swear you would never tell anyone about the crush you had on him. You never even told Felix about it. So embarrassed were you that you thought he could want you like that. Strong, reliable, kind, the best man you ever met – he deserved a better partner. But that was in the past. You got under Felix and over your crush, at least that’s what you tell yourself most days.
“B-but we’re friends,” Chan stammers, though it turns into a stuttery moan when Felix runs his hand from his chest to his neck, wrapping loosely around his jaw and turning him towards him. Something possessive rankles in your heart.
“We could be more,” Felix purrs, and you don’t know if it’s your heat, but it’s like you’ve never wanted anything more in your life. “Come on, alpha, don’t you want to take care of your omegas?”
Chan swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing heavily, chuckles like he can’t believe his ears.
“Omegas …”
You slide closer to Chan’s other side, your hand slipping precariously close to the bulge in Chan’s jeans. The thought of his knot alone makes you drip. Such a strong alpha, he would give you the most beautiful pups. You reach out, brush your pinky over the stiff denim covering it, only a featherlight touch he like can hardly feel. Chan gasps nonetheless.
You lean closer, your lips brushing Chan’s ear.
“Yes, alpha,” you breathe into Chan’s ear, “take care of us. We need you.”
Chan’s head falls back before he turns to you. When he does, his face hovers only inches away, and you give him your best doe eyes. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Felix, something unreadable on his face as he stares at the two of you – reaches a hand between his own legs and squeezes. Chan’s nostrils flare.
“Fuuuuck,” Chan moans out, his hand surging out to wrap around your waist, pulling you against him as if to steady you, but you suspect it’s more for his own sake. “Are you sure? You gotta be sure. I can’t do this if you’re not sure. Even if you’re driving me fucking crazy right now.”
“We’re sure,” you whisper, lean in until your lips are brushing over his, “please, we trust you. Please, Channie.”
The begging seems to do him in because before you can even finish saying his name, his lips are on yours, and he’s kissing you like he’s trying to devour you. His fingers dig into the plush of your waist, locking you in place, leaving you no way to escape. As if you would want to.
But then, his mouth is ripped away from you and Felix drags him into his own eager mouth, licks into his mouth so hard Chan can do nothing but take it, kiss him back, drag his hand up and wind it around the back of Felix’s head.
You growl unhappily and Felix smiles into Chan’s lips before he reaches out, screws his fingers into the material of your tank top and pulls you onto all fours over Chan’s lap and into his lips instead, right in front of Chan’s shocked face.
Chan curses under his breath, his hand coming to the bulge in his jeans, squeezing at it, hard. It sends you for a tailspin, knowing how much you’re affecting him, and it makes you kiss Felix even filthier, putting on a show until Chan’s hand finds the back of your thighs. He hisses when his fingers meet the slick that’s dripping out of you at this point.
“Y-you really … fuck, I swear I’m not trying to be creepy …” Chan starts, but trails off.
Felix pulls back from you with one last nip to your bottom lip, giving you a lazy smile that makes you want to jump his bones, before he sits back and turns back to Chan.
“Spit it out, Chris.”
Chan flushes a deep red.
“You really … do this. Kiss. Fuck.”
You blink at Chan, not understanding. He winces, looks at you like he’s about to tell a child that Santa isn’t real. Unnecessarily, you think. You’re not that innocent.
“There’s … uh, lots of … uhhh … porn out there, of this sort of thing … I just didn’t know if it was really a thing.”
Oh. He doesn’t mean it like that, you know it, but it still hurts. Felix huffs next to you, his brows furrowing, and then his hand finds yours. He pulls you a little closer.
“Yes, we do. We don’t just do it for some alpha’s gratification. What we have goes much deeper than that.”
Your heart skips an uneven beat, and you look at Felix, who’s already looking back at you. There’s so much affection in his big brown eyes it makes you dizzy. He squeezes your hand, and you lean in to peck his lips before you can stop yourself. You blush when you pull back, ready to apologise for it, but Felix smiles at you so softly you think you might not have to.
When he turns back to Chan, however, his eyes are steely again. “Now take off your shirt, I wanna suck your cock.”
Your eyes widen at his tone. Something dark flickers in Chan’s eyes, but he does what he’s asked. He crosses his arms over his chest and pulls his black shirt over his head. He tosses it somewhere in your room, but you’re not even looking. All you can do is stare.
Chan is all muscle. Wide, solid waist, even wider shoulders, strong arms and stronger shoulders. Milky skin pulled taut over his pecs, down over defined abs. There’s a hint of a happy trail that leads under the waistband of his jeans, and your mouth waters at the same time as your pussy gushes more slick. Your body pumps out more pheromones, and you can see Chan’s pupils dilate before you and Felix pounce on him.
Chan is being pushed back against the bed by your hands in his hair and Felix’s on his chest, running his fingers greedily over his muscles. Chan stares from you to Felix hovering over him like he can’t believe his luck, but your biology picks this moment to come back with a vengeance.
A surge of cramps rips through your insides, and you hiss, curl in on yourself. Your hole clenches around nothing, making the ache in your belly worse until your ears are ringing with it. There’s a soothing hand on the base of your spine, Chan’s voice somewhere, saying your name, you think.
“Y/N, sweetheart,” he speaks again, and it reaches you like you’re underwater, “let alpha take care of you, hm?”
You try and nod as best as you can, but it’s all you can muster. You let your body get tugged his way and that, until you’re sitting on your knees. For a second, you think you’ll fall, but then there are strong hands on your hips.
They tug you down and suddenly, there’s a hot, wet mouth on your cunt, and you nearly scream with relief when Chan sucks on your clit hard.
The pleasure is almost too much after so much neglect, but your body is also greedy, now that it’s finally being touched, and touched by an alpha no less. The warring urges make you feel half insane. Blind and dumb, you lean back. You place the palm of your hand on Chan’s chest, spread your legs even wider and Chan doesn’t miss a beat – mumbles vague praises into you, angles his head just so, opens his mouth and lets you grind your hole over his tongue. Your slick drools out of you, but it only makes Chan moan heavily against you, swallow it down, nudge his nose forward until it bumps against your clit with every rut of your hips.
The pressure inside of you is building so fast it’s almost terrifying, every waft of Chan’s dark, alcoholic vanilla making your body more and more pliant, and you can’t think of anything but release. Your free hand winds into Chan’s hair to hold him in place and Chan moans, his hips stuttering up behind you, and you can hear a filthy gagging noise.
Blearily, you turn your head and make eye contact with Felix’s teary eyes, his small fingers and pink mouth stretched around Chan’s cock, knot bulging at its base already. He’s fully naked now, dusty nipples pebbled prettily, and he has a hand shoved between his legs, two fingers buried inside of himself as he sucks Chan off.
The image along with the feeling and the lewd sounds of Chan fucking his tongue into you send you hurtling toward the edge, but what pushes you over it is when Felix pulls off and reveals inches and inches of Chan’s thick, red cock until it finally falls from his swollen lips, and he smiles at you.
You come with a yell, the pain in your guts exploding into white-hot pleasure, taking your breath away for a second. Your fingers tighten on Chan’s hair until you’re sure it must hurt, but he doesn’t let up, laps at you hard, licks every last bit of pleasure right out of you, humming and moaning and swallowing your slick greedily until you’re shaking and trembling in his hold.
“Feeling better, darling?” Chan asks from where he’s still lying underneath you.
You nod distractedly, but you’re distracted by him. He looks nothing short of slick drunk, cheeks pink, hair sweaty and mussed, his whole chin wet with your release, his pupils blown. His speech is slightly slurred. When he licks his lips, and moans at the taste, more need blooms in your abdomen.
The pain is gone, yes, but the orgasm did nothing to alleviate your need for him. You still can’t think straight, the only thing on your mind getting his stupid knot inside of you.
“Wan’ your cock,” you mumble, and Chan blinks, though you’re sure he heard you. But you’ll repeat yourself if you have to. “Want your cock. Your knot. Wan’ you to fuck me full, alpha.”
Chan’s mouth falls open, and he curses loudly.
“Jesus, fuck, you’ll be the death of me,” he mumbles, his scent deepening, and you’re about to beg again when the bed dips, and you watch Felix crawl closer to you. He looks wild, lips all swollen, his whole body flushed with his heat. His eyes are narrowed prettily.
“I want his knot, too.”
“I want it first,” you say, and Felix glares at you. There’s something feline about him in that moment.
“No, me,” he retorts.
Your scowl deepens. A feral kind of irritation bubbles in your guts.
“No, my heat started first, I should get alpha’s knot first.”
Felix glares at you and then he jumps you.
He topples you off Chan’s chest and onto the bed, so hard, you nearly both go flying off and onto the floor. He catches you just in time, manhandles you until you’re on your back and you only get to meet his dark eyes for a brief second before he leans in and kisses you meanly, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, teeth clacking together.
“When did you ever want a knot so badly, hm? Was I not enough for you?” he growls into your mouth without pulling back, staring into your eyes wildly.
You glare back, slide a hand between your sweaty bodies until you can touch him. Run two fingers around his hole to gather some slick before wrapping your hand around his little cock.
Felix moans weakly, screws his pretty eyes shut, fingers digging into the sheets on each side of your head.
“Jealous?”
He doesn’t answer, only opens his eyes to stare at you before he surges in to kiss you again. He winds one of his hands around the back of your head, holds you in place as he kisses you, then bites your lip meanly – so meanly his revealed canine pierces your lip and sends a stab of pain through your system. A second later, you taste blood.
Felix moans wantonly when he tastes it, too, his hand sliding into your hair, tugging so he can kiss you deeper, lick up every drop of blood he can while you writhe beneath him, your body like a live wire as he takes and takes and takes. You’re getting lightheaded, deprived of oxygen, his body pinning you against the bed, his mouth on yours, though you can’t begin to complain. Having Felix like this feels more right than nature ever could.
But suddenly, he’s hauled off you in one fell swoop. Lifted off by strong, merciless hands, tossed next to you on the mattress like he weighs nothing. The sudden absence of him is disorienting, but then the heat of his body is replaced by Chan’s, who is burning even hotter. He braces one hand next to your head, the other next to Felix’s and stares down at you.
He’s intense. Gorgeous. Strong and yet so, so soft. The only alpha you’ve ever trusted like this, even when there’s a drop of sweat rolling down the dip of his collarbone and something wild in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. You wonder if he’s going into rut, driven into it by the haywire pheromones of two omegas throwing themselves at him, or if this is just him letting go of control. It makes you shiver with a kind of fear that only makes you want him more.
“Stop fighting,” he growls out and Felix next to you gasps, “you’ll both get your knot. Or do you doubt that alpha can take care of you?”
You shake your head vehemently, and Felix follows. Chan watches your wide eyes, your trembling chest, and his eyes only get darker.
“That’s right,” he murmurs, dips down to nudge at your scent gland, and it makes shivers run down your spine. He drags first his lips, then his tongue, then his teeth over it, and your brain loses all focus except the desperate urge for him to bite down. Mate you, mate Felix, let you sink your teeth into Felix as well, bound to each other forever, just the three of you.
Felix’s hand finds yours, and you squeeze hard when Chan digs his teeth into your skin. Not nearly enough to break skin, not even to bruise, but it makes you whimper, nonetheless, legs trying to close, but you can’t. Chan’s thick thigh is wedged in between yours, pitifully out of reach of where you’re aching for him.
“Gonna fuck you full, give you my pups,” Chan mumbles, pulls back and stares at you, then Felix, before he dips down to lick and suck at his scent gland, too. Felix whines pathetically, hips bucking into the air. He hasn’t even come yet, and the desperation in the little mewls he lets out with every one of Chan’s ministrations makes your chest ache.
You roll over, press yourself against him, and he preens underneath you when you nuzzle your own face into the side of his neck. It’s scenting, but it’s also a little more than that, your lips lazily sucking at his shoulders, his neck, anywhere you can reach. Then Chan hums and reaches down, slides two fingers into him, and Felix moans.
“P-please,” he gasps, little moans punched out of him with every rut of Chan’s fingers inside of him, “m-more.”
Chan hums soothingly again and pulls away enough to look down at him. Felix stares up at him with a devastating look in his eyes. All his previous brattiness has dissolved, he just looks inconsolable now.
“Think you can come for me? Then I’ll give Y/Nie her knot, and you get it next. Sound good, omega?” Chan asks, voice so velvety it makes you squeeze your legs together.
Felix nods and Chan smiles, whispers a quiet “good boy” and then he dips back down to mouth over Felix’s scent gland again, his hand speeding up between his legs. You smooth your own hand over Felix’s chest and suck a mark into his neck, and he convulses violently.
“Bite me,” he whispers, sobs. You freeze. He sobs again.
“Bite me, please, bite me, make me yours,” he continues, the words blubbering out between tears. You want to ask who he’s talking to, but a part of you is terrified of the answer. Because what happens if Felix and Chan mate. What happens to you?
Felix wails, and you whimper, nuzzle in deeper, jostled by every rock of his hips to meet Chan’s fingers.
“B-both of you, p-please, mate me. Take me. Wanna be yours.”
Tears blur your vision when you open your mouth and you bite. Not enough to draw blood, not a real mating bite but still enough to make your stomach swoop with something unnamed. And it’s enough for Felix.
He comes with a strangled scream, shooting ropes of cum over his abdomen. His body convulses, bucking his hips harder into Chan’s fingers, chasing the fullness until he’s spent, and he goes limp, putty in your and Chan’s arms.
Your lips are still attached to Felix’s neck, your hand splayed over his stomach, still rising and falling quickly, jerking with every sniffle. He sniffles weakly when Chan gingerly pulls out of him, nods when Chan pets his hair, asks him if he’s okay.
Your mind is swimming, your head replaying his words over and over again, and you’re trying too hard to not get your hopes up. Focus instead on soothing your tongue over the redness on Felix’s delicate skin where your teeth just were, lap up more of his sweet scent, even though it’s difficult for omegas to smell each other’s scents. But you know him so well. Even when it’s not much, it’s so comforting. Familiar. Yours.
It invades your senses, makes more heat pool between your legs where the arousal never left, the ache for a knot not something that can be satiated by one orgasm alone. And Chan seems to know – seems to sense it, or maybe smell it on you because when Felix has calmed, his attention, his big, dark eyes, his intense, overwhelming attention shifts back to you.
He comes to hover over you; bites his bottom lip absentmindedly as he drinks you in, let his eyes, then his palms roam over your body. It’s unhurried, yet intense, makes your legs part, your hips can’t upwards until your pussy is right there, on display for him. Presented for him.
Your alpha senses it. Lets his gaze fall between your legs, now without a remnant of shame, and hums approvingly. He looks intently, as if it’s entirely new, as if he didn’t lick an orgasm out of you already, brings both hands to your thighs, spreads the lips of your cunt open and presses the pad of his thumb into your entrance, making a dribble of slick run out of your hole and into the sheets. You moan weakly, but you don’t dare move. It’s like you’re pinned to the bed by his gaze. Distantly, you realise you’re shaking.
“Pretty,” Chan hums, and you preen. Your body lights up at the compliment, legs spreading wider, hole clenching around nothing right under Chan’s watchful eyes. “So perfect, omega. All for me, hm?”
You nod blearily, your eyes screwed shut. It’s all too much.
“Turn around then, let me give you what you want,” Chan orders and removes his hands from your body. You feel the absence keenly, but the promise of him finally giving you what you need has you scrambling to turn around.
Planting your knees on the bed, you let yourself fall forward, arch your back for your alpha. Your eyes meet Felix’s, who is still lying next to you. He smiles dazedly, but before you can smile back, you feel the tip of Chan’s cock nudge at your hole, and it makes you screw your eyes shut. It feels big. Too big.
“Shh, relax, omega, you can take it,” Chan grumbles, and you nod, to nobody in particular, “you’re made for this, pretty. Made for me. Made to take my knot.”
You nod again, desperate to agree, your heated cheek dragging against the sheets, and you mewl when he pushes forward and the head of his cock breaches you.
Chan curses, a growl brewing deep in his chest as he slowly presses in, inch by gloriously torturous inch, splitting you open until your ears are ringing, and you feel like you’re about to come, just from the feeling of him alone. Something deep inside you, some feral, base part, is purring in a satisfaction you’ve never felt before. Like your wolf is being completed.
When he’s fully seated inside of you, he barely gives you a moment to adjust, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. He moans, but then he’s already pulling out and pushing back in and there’s a lewd squelch of slick when your body tries to suck him back in, through the stretch and all the discomfort because the pleasure is so addicting, the feeling of fulness so right.
“Fuuuckkk, omega,” Chan growls, and starts fucking you slowly. You whimper, rut your hips back weakly. “You’re so tight, omega. No-one ever fucked you right, huh.”
Of course, someone has, but you shake your head. You can tell he’s just babbling, lost somewhere deep in his own head, your alpha wanting you all to himself. He can have you. You want him to.
“I’ll take care of you, baby,” he mumbles as he fucks in deep, grinding over your g-spot as he does, “gonna fuck you full. Make you come all over my knot.”
His pace picks up, his fingers digging into your hips like a vice and your body slumps forward harder, legs sliding further apart, inviting him in deeper and deeper until the head of his cock kisses your cervix with every thrust. You mewl, clench around him, scramble for purchase on the sheets. But before your fingers can screw into the cotton, Felix’s hand finds yours. His eyes are glassy as he scoots across the sheets and closer to you. His hand threads into your hair, pets it soothingly.
“Poor omegas, need it so bad, hm?” Chan mumbles behind you, brings his thumbs to where he’s thrusting into you over and over and over again. He parts the lips of your pussy, making him slide deeper, until his knot catches against your hole every time he bottoms out.
It feels huge. Too big to fit inside of you. You nearly start crying then. It’s all you want, but you think your body won’t be able to take it.
Felix pets your cheek, pushes his face forward until you can feel his breath on your face every time Chan ruts into you, almost ruts you up the bed with how hard he’s fucking you. You’re gushing wetness, your body seizing tighter and tighter around Chan’s cock as the pleasure builds.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Felix purrs, and you sob. Tears push their way past your lashes and Felix thumbs them away.
“C-can’t take it,” you slur out, cut yourself off with a moan when Chan slows down, grinds his hips just right and rubs over your g-spot hard, “knot’s t-too big.”
Felix’s body shivers a little with the words, the hand that’s not resting on your face coming down to tug at his cock haphazardly.
“’s not, baby,” he mumbles, dips his head forwards to kiss you, moaning a little when he can feel the impact of every one of Chan’s slow thrusts, “You can take it. You were made for taking alpha’s cock. Made for us.”
You whine and lean back in, catch Felix in a sloppy kiss that he reciprocates happily, Chan behind you stutters out a moan as his hips stutter forwards, fuck into you harder, pressing his knot against your hole until you’re whimpering into Felix’s mouth until he pulls back. There’s a thick string of spit that connects your lips when he does.
“Let alpha take care of you, okay?” he asks, and you manage to nod, before Chan is leaning over you, caging you against the bed, and you scream out a moan when he rams his cock inside you. Felix is still holding your hand as Chan plows into you, hard and deep and fast, growling into your ear as he rams his fucks you so hard you see stars, until you’re nothing but a pliant vessel for pleasure, until your abdomen is seizing, and you can feel your orgasm coming, but you know you need one more thing. One last thing to truly sate you.
“Knot me,” you slur, squeeze Felix’s hand hard, “alpha, please, need your knot. Please, please pleas- Aaaaaaah.”
Chan forces his knot into you with a loud growl, presses it against your entrances until it gives, swallows it and locks him against your body as Chan comes inside of you. Your orgasm slams into you, forces you deeper into the sheets as you sob, convulse around Chan’s cock as he fills you up blindingly hot and so much that it starts drooling out around the sides of his knot, drips onto the sheets. You have to stop yourself from crying out for it, have to tell yourself there’s enough, it’ll take.
But your wolf doesn’t know that. Only purrs in satisfaction at being completed, at getting what it so desperately craved, from the best alpha you know. Your heart aches a little.
Chan is still panting into your neck, but slowly, he unsticks his sweaty chest from your sweaty back and soothes his palms over your sides.
“Lie down with me, darling,” he murmurs, and you follow where his hands lead you, hissing when the change of position tugs at where his knot is still lodged inside of you.
Once you’re finally lying down, he hums more praises, runs his warm, warm hands over every inch of skin he can reach, presses sweet little kisses to your nape, until you’re purring and nearly dozing off.
Distantly, you feel how Felix slides closer, glues himself to your front, warm, silky skin smelling like strawberries, his little boner poking into your leg, his arm slung over you. He nuzzles your nose with his and you hum happily, blindly throw an arm over him, too.
This may just be the beginning of your heat, but it’s already the best you’ve ever had.
Minho greets you, Felix and Chan a couple days later, when you emerge from your heats and the rut you’d inevitably thrown Chan into, with two omegas in heat begging from him 24/7. Hyunjin had to bring you food at some point, and just the smell of Changbin on him nearly sent him stark mad.
Now Minho just raises an eyebrow at his fellow alpha, as he saunters over.
“Greedy. Taking two of our prettiest omegas all for yourself.”
“Yeah, can your old man dick even keep up?” Seungmin taunts, but Chan just laughs.
He pulls you into his side, makes Felix on your other side stumble into you until you’re wedged between them.
“Yeah, if you ever need help taking care of them, let us know,” Minho teases and winks at you, giggles evilly when you blush furiously.
Chan’s arm on you tightens, fingers digging into your waist, pain blooming when he presses right into the smattering of bruises still blooming there from where he’d held you down.
“Absolutely not. They’re mine.”
Your heart sings.
Maybe one day you can have what you want. Two bites. One on each side of your neck. Marking you as taken. Marking you as theirs.
skzms masterlist // ko-fi
🔖 general taglist: follow and turn on notifications for my library account: @skzms-library
🔞 I monitor ages over there, just like I used to do with my taglist. I will block minors and ageless blogs, and you'll have to message me again to get unblocked. so just have your age in your bio before you follow!
Don’t think too much, just bust that quick. Or whatever those lyrics say.
— Pairing; Lee Minho | Lee Know x Reader
— Rating; E for Explicit
— Author’s Note; I’m unwell. Minho’s fat ass cock is always staring at me and I need to be lobotomized because of it. Also, @skzms and @hyunsvngs are to blame (indirectly).
— Warnings; frottage/dry humping, pretty much enemies to lovers, big dick!lino, lino’s stupid fat bulge, reader’s insane, hate speech (it’s mild, reader just tells lino she hates him all the time lol), banter, crushes disguised as loathing, lino gets blue balled a little (he’s a lil into it), lino is stern, reader is a brat!, uhm, i think that’s all!
“I hate you.”
Minho’s only mildly offended. You don’t look nearly as menacing as you’re probably hoping for. In fact, Minho thinks the furrow between your brows and the downturn of your mouth is rather cute. You look more like a sulky toddler who’s upset to find out that Daddy was right about the tooth fairy. Only, Minho’s definitely not your father, though he can’t say he’d be any bit turned off if your pretty lips fixed themselves to call him Daddy.
“I hate you and your stupid, big, fat cock,” you whimper, grinding your hips down angrily. “Are you even hard? Why’s it so fucking big?”
“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, hands gripping your hips to help steady you into a rhythm. “It’s just the cock I was born with, princess.”
“I-Is it hard?” You ask, voice small. “M-Min.”
He feels his cock jump where it’s chubbed up, hardening steadily beneath the heat of your cunt. He wants to be nonchalant about it all, but you’re warm and whiny, all up in his space and forcing him to take notice. You hate him, huh? You have one hell of a way of showing it.
“It’s half mast right now, but if you keep moaning my name like that, I’m gonna be full grown before you know it.”
“Fuck,” you gasp, gripping into his broad shoulders. Your nails dig into his skin through the cotton of his tee and Minho wishes he were naked so he could wear your scratches pridefully.
“It’s so unfair! S-Such a big cock gone to waste.”
Minho snorts, choking on his own spit when you bounce on his bulge, glaring at him. You come down roughly and something about it sends electricity up Minho’s spine. You’re looking at him like he’s the worst human being alive, like he isn’t letting you grind your pussy all over him like a cat in heat despite the scathing words you speak at him. If he was fucking you for real, he’d have flipped you onto your back a long time ago. He would have buried his dick so deep in your guts that you’d feel him in your throat, unable to speak because it’d feel like his tip was nudging your uvula. Alas, he’s maintaining some semblance of control, respecting your disdain for him by letting you have your fun.
“You talk a lot of shit for someone who’s trying to fuck me through my clothes,” he says, eyes turned downward, trained on the wet spot you’re making on his sweats. “Also, it’s a dick, not a po-go stick.”
“Shut up,” you cry, rolling your bottom lip into your mouth when his bulge stimulates your clit just right. Your skin is hot with embarrassment. “I can’t come if you’re talking; your voice is turning me off.”
That’s a real bold face lie if he’s ever heard one. Minho can feel your pussy clenching through the layers separating the two of you. That tiny hole of yours spasms every time he opens his mouth; how are you gonna tell him that his voice does nothing for you? You’re fucking stubborn, he thinks, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. You’re such a damn brat, and boy does he salivate at the thought of putting you in your place.
He’s sporting a full erection by now, cock hard and aching against the heat of you. You shiver and grind down hard, rutting your swollen, achy clit against the thickness between his thighs. You hate that you know you’re going to come like this, quick and desperate in your enemy’s lap like some horny teenager.
“I—,” you hiccup, wet eyes staring into his own, “I’m n-not letting you f-fuck me,” you stammer, rolling your hips.
He aches with frustration, but he respects it nonetheless. Minho is a man of honor, even if his thoughts are criminal.
“I know,” he laments, brown eyes glued to you. He doesn’t want to miss it when you come undone. “I’m just a means to an end, princess. Use my cock however you need.”
“God, I hate you,” you say, but the watery sob that follows says differently.
Honestly, if he were a more delusional man, he’d say you were well on your way to being in love with him. Why else would you have fixated on his cock? Why else would you be humping and grinding on him like a wanton whore, babbling to yourself about how big his dick is? The sounds you make have him gritting his teeth, the ache is his jaw the only thing keeping him from latching onto your skin and marking you up. You look so pretty this way, sat upon his cock like you are. Minho’s not sure he’s ever wanted a woman so badly.
The closing of your eyes drives him feral, a growl working its way through his chest and up out of his esophagus. He’s not in control of himself when he wraps a hand in your hair, fucking his hips up right as you’re grinding down. Your eyes snap open and a warbling noise passes your lips, and Minho can’t help but pin you with his stare.
“Eyes on me,” he sneers, snapping his hips up, bulge pressing heavily against your clit. “If you’re going to get off on my cock, you better fucking look at me while you do it.”
“Minho,” you whine, blinking up at him in a daze, “I-I’m—“
“Yeah,” he breathes, dark eyes holding you hostage. “Come on it; go ahead. Be a good girl for once.”
The moment you shudder apart is the moment Minho feels his entire DNA sequence being rewritten down to the atoms. You squeal, high pitched and breathy, a wobbly sigh of his name that makes him feel raw and frayed at the edges. Lee Minho is not one to get caught up, especially with girls who claim to hate his guts. There’s certainly a first time for everything though, and he thinks that this might be the start of a beautifully horribly disastrous fling.
“Messy girl,” he teases, staring down between your bodies. “You’ve ruined my pants.”
“Shut up! You’re such a pig.”
You slide off his lap with a groan, righting your skirt and wobbling on shaky legs. He laughs, big palms warm against your hips as he steadies you. You glare, but it holds none of the heat you want it to. Especially when your eyes are quick to the mess you made, watching his dick twitch and dribble under your gaze, making the mess more prominent. Minho smirks, using his muscles to make it bob without touching it.
“I can fuck you real good, you know,” he says, low in his throat. “Show you what big dick is really all about.”
You blink, and blink again, lip caught between your teeth. It’s a bad idea. Fucking Lee Minho is a really, no good, rotten, terrible idea. You hate him, he hates you. On the flip side, dick like that only comes around once in a lifetime and you’d be a fool to let it slip through your fingers.
“You can’t come inside me,” you blurt out as agreement, “And this gets out to no one.”
“Sure,” he answers, giddy but honest, “Whatever you say, princess. Your pussy, your rules.”
“Good,” you nod, stalling.
Minho rolls his eyes. So much all that bravado you had ten minutes ago. That’s okay though, Minho’s sure he knows how to handle you now.
“C’mon,” he says, standing and grabbing your hand. “You’re gonna want to be in a bed when I finally blow your back out, but don’t worry! Foreplay first!”
“You make it sound so sleazy,” you groan, feeling your cunt drip in your panties.
Minho’s responding laugh is loud and ugly and you still hate him. A voice in your head that sounds way too much like Felix telling you that this a bad idea.
Oh okay! Yes you can write the second idea of Hyunjin jerking off to the thought of being with a guy while reader watches and guides him💝
GUIDANCE — HYUNJIN.
pairing: hyunjin x reader(afab)
genre: smut, NSFW
warnings: drunk characters, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, slight degradation, breath play, choking on fingers
a/n: IM SO SORRY IT TOOK FOREVER! i had SUCH a hard time coming up with a plot for this, so yeah… i don’t know if it’s cringe or not but here we are. first part of the ask is here!
today was one of those nights when random confessions were made. you have never been a party girl, but your best friend hyunjin convinced you to go.
“c’mon, it’s the last party of the semester. we have to go.”
the thing is he totally forgot about the fact that he was not a party type either. so now you two were sitting in someone’s room upstairs with a bottle on tequila, talking about the most random topics. you’ve been best friends for years, so there were no secrets left to share.
well, at least that’s what you were thinking.
“you know…” hyunjin stumbled over his words and gave up on continuing a sentence.
“mhm?” the alcohol flowing down your throat burned, but you just loved that feeling - mushy brain, thoughts not forming into one. “know what?”
“nevermind. we’re both drunk, i don’t think it’s time to share shit like that.” he shook his head.
the sound of blasting music downstairs was giving you a sort of comfort. for some reason, it felt so cozy sitting here with hyunjin while a bunch of people were losing their minds just below you.
“no-no, tell me. now is the perfect time to share what’s on your mind, jinnie.” you put a hand in his shoulder in assurance. “c’mon. take another shot for confidence, if you need.”
and he did. it was honestly impressive how two of you managed to drain half the bottle already.
you had run out of lemons a long time ago, so now there was only pure alcohol and some pinches of salt in your veins.
you could swear you weren’t an alcoholic.
“i think i’m bi.” hyunjin said so suddenly, you almost choked on a shot you were about to take. “i’ve been having these thought for a while, but the more i think about it, the more i’m sure.”
“oh! that’s great, jinnie! i’m so proud of you, thank you for telling me.” you were a little taken aback from the sudden confession. no one ever came out to you before, so you couldn’t quite figure out what to say and how to comfort him. not forgetting the fact that you were still drunk.
“yeah… like every time i think of blowing a guy, i just get an instant boner. is that normal?”
nevermind. you were not drunk anymore. with eyes widened, you looked over at your best friend, who was sitting next to you with the booziest expression on his face.
you figured that he was just saying what he was thinking at the moment, not giving it much of a thought. but the wording that he chose made your mind clear in a matter of seconds.
and hyunjin didn’t stop.
“it’s just… i don’t know if you get it, but i need to get my mouth stuffed with cock. i want to choke on it, gag cause it hit the back of my throat.”
“that’s called being horny and touch-starved, jinnie.” you tried to laugh it off while your pussy started to pulsate in your panties. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t touch-starved yourself. and the staggering speech hyunjin just gave made your panties start to soak through.
“i know. but like i also had a quickie with a girl from my class last week and then i realized that deep down i desperately want a guy touch my dick. i just wanna know how it’d feel….” he sighed in frustration, settling comfier on the floor.
hyunjin closed his eyes, while those filthy words kept coming out of his mouth. the room seemed to float around him like a boat, and his voice was raspy and quiet. he was drunk. so drunk, but you did not dare to stop him. you knew it was wrong and could potentially ruin your friendship. but... you couldn't help it. hearing hyunjin talk like that made a knot in your stomach tighten even more. he sounded so hot, even if it was because he was thinking of a guy.
you decided that wouldn't do anything until hyunjin stops himself. god, you felt like a pervert, listening to him in such state. it was supposed to be private and intimate information. you’ve never shared something like this with each other. you had to stop him. you needed to stop him.
“jinnie-“
“and then i'd ask him to cover my nose while he holds his cock in my mouth. and-“ his hand was already dipping past the waistband, halting at the bottom of his stomach.
should you stop watching? keep watching?
“hyunjin!”
he finally snapped out and looked at you. the sight of you with your mouth open made him chuckle. “sorry. shit! sorry- i guess i am too drunk and horny.”
strained silence settled in the room for a while. it was for the best. it was morally correct to stop him. of course, friends shouldn’t discuss something like that and he was about to touch himself in front of you.
the thoughts were spinning in your head as you kept fighting with your drunk brain. but at the end… it won.
“how often do you jerk off to these thoughts?” you said quietly as you stared at hyunjin in curiosity. “of a guy touching you-“
he glared at you pointedly. "does it matter?”
“well… just wanna make sure that you know what feels good for you, before you have a quickie with a guy-”
hyunjin’s eyes snapped wide open as your face flushed red, as if you hadn't meant to voice out your previous statement so blatantly.
“you wanna see me jerk off? is that what you’re saying?” he kept looking at you, studying your embarrassed face with his dark eyes. it was so unexpected from you. but something about the thrill of touching himself in front of you... made him so fucking horny.
after receiving a nod from you, slowly, his hand slid back to his waistband, but didn’t stop now. then he pulled the pants down just enough to expose his underwear and grinded his hand over his hardening dick. the rough material rubbed against his sensitive head, making him sob quietly. a little wet spot where his cock was tenting the material could already be seen. it was almost embarrassing how quickly he got hard.
as soon as him palm fully covered his groin, he let out a loud groan and bit his lip to silence himself. even though the music was still blasting downstairs and constant chatter could be heard down the corridor, hyunjin was worried that someone would hear him.
“don’t stop… please-” you spoke; voice muffled out of embarrassment. “i like the noises you make.”
hyunjin didn’t even have time to be embarrassed because the urge to touch himself was stronger. he repeated the movement with his palm, a soft whimper leaving his lips. in his head, he heard a man’s voice teasing him, cooing over his inability to temper the moans, offering to shut him up with a cock.
the cool air wrapped around the flesh as he finally freed it out of the boxers. his dick immediately fell back against his lower stomach, making you choke on your spit. you’ve never thought you see your best friend’s dick. but there it was - hard and already leaking with precum.
unexpectedly, hyunjin spit on his palm and grabbed his dick roughly. the dirtiness of the act turned you on even more. he savoured that first proper stroke, the shift from teasing to gratification. his mind, already slow and quiet, emptied altogether. he started slow, not allowing himself the full pleasure. precum dripped out of his cock, and he opened his eyes for a second to see how it smeared between the pads of his fingers. the slow moves of his fist united with the slick sounds of saliva and precum spreading all over his length.
you couldn’t keep you eyes off hyunjin. his hands, his throbbing dick, the soft moans leaving his parted lips…
"AH that's so good... that feels so good- FUCK!" he moaned, hips jerking up frantically.
“what are you thinking about?” you asked, fighting with the urge to touch yourself too.
hyunjin answered immediately, ignoring how embarrassed and dirty it made him feel. “there is… a guy on campus. we hanged out a couple of times. and all i could think about is the outline of his dick in his pants. fuck!” he squeezed himself harder at the memory. “everytime he turned away i stared at it like a pervert. i was just trying to not bust in my pants the entire time.”
you quietly laughed at his confession, but continued to play along. “does he have a big cock?”
“oh my god YES! i would give anything to be able to see it- to touch it- to have it on my tongue-“ he moaned pathetically, moving his fist faster. the thoughts made him even more desperate.
“okay, i want you to think about him, jinnie. can you do that for me?”
hyunjin nodded frantically.
“imagine as his hands would slide up your thighs…” with that, your moved your palms in said direction. “then he would touch your hard cock and tell you how pathetic you look right now.”
the desperate moan left hyunjin’s lips as your hand captured his throbbing shaft. you pumped it a couple of times and spread the wetness and a new portion of precum with your thumb down his shaft.
“he’d start jerking you off fast, making you squirm from his touch.” the movements of your hand became rougher. “he would see how close you are. the flush on your neck… your cheeks… the way your breath hitches when he touches you.“
the breath stuck in hyunjin’s throat. he refused, he didn't want to accept the situation. but most of all, he was afraid that he would regret it in the morning, when the drunkenness would pass and only the bitterness of the alcohol would remain on his tongue.
the movement of your hand brought him back to reality. he no longer held back the sounds, moans becoming shamelessly louder.
you were panting and absolutely soaking through your underwear. unable to restrain any longer, you finally started to rub yourself over your underwear. gosh… the amount of arousal you could feel was making the pads of your fingers wet. you were absolutely drenched and soaked down there. and that happened because of hyunjin - your best friend.
you focused on pumping his dick with your other hand and finally slid your fingers into your underwear to circle your clit. the amount of wetness that you smeared on the folds only increased the sensitivity.
you didn't even notice how hyunjin opened his eyes and was staring at you, studying how you were running your fingers inside your underwear, how your eyes closed with pleasure. he groaned and his dick twitched in your hand harder.
“fuck- you look so hot like this.” hyunjin choked out, breathing heavily through the nose.
his gaze only confused you even more, so you mumbled softly in response. “close your eyes again, jinnie. ‘m close.”
he obeyed, letting you work closer to your release on your own. two of you got worked up so quickly, even though just recently you discussed the topic of how hard it is to take exams.
the rush of pleasure hit you fast and heavy. your back arched and you mouth opened in a silent scream. thankfully, hyunjin’s eyes were closed, so he didn’t see your cumming face. at least that’s what you thought.
when you opened your eyes after you came, the sudden idea popped up in your mind.
“open your mouth, jinnie.” you whispered.
he complied and you put your fingers in his mouth experimentally and.. oh god. hyunjin started sucking on them harshly, tasting off your arousal. he slid his tongue on your digits, making them slick with his saliva. his eyes were still shut and you could swear he was imagining a dick instead of your fingers.
unexpectedly, even to yourself, you moved your other hand from the dick to his nose, blocking the breathing.
hyunjin’s eyes widened in surprise at first, but gradually turned into satisfaction. he closed his eyes again, sucking on your fingers even harder than before.
“look at you. so pathetic. are you getting off to this?” you spat out, stuffing your fingers further in his mouth.
he choked slightly, mostly because of the suddeness. muffled moans became louder. the abandoned cock was still standing in the air, new trickles of precum slowly continued to leak from the head.
“hAHHH!” he stammered when you finally took your fingers off his nose, tongue slurring over your fingers still in his mouth. “s-so good! so- good…”
his exhausted fucked out face only turned up the heat. returning your wet fingers to your underwear and collecting the remaining juices from your folds, you repeated the process, blocking his access to oxygen and thrusting your fingers into his mouth. hyunjin only mumbled something in pleasure, sucking on every millimeter of skin.
this time you held your fingers a little longer, but it only aroused him more. once you removed them, he took a deep breath in his chest and took a quick look at his dick. but it was enough for you to realize that he craved your touch down there.
“wanna cum, jinnie?” you cooed, gently running your hand through the veins on his neck, sending goosebumps all over his skin.
“yes-yes, please-“ he choked out, even though you only caressed the skin on his neck.
you brought your hand back to his wet shaft. it didn’t take even a couple of pumps from you to feel the load of sperm falling on your wrist. it was sticky and wet, but so unbelievably hot to feel his cum on your skin.
“i guess… now you know what you like, jinnie.” you said, licking off the droplets off your hand.
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