⡴ gym teacher!sukuna has an embarrassingly known crush on school nurse!reader
lowkey wanna turn this into a full oneshot
if he heard one more twelve year old’s squeaky voice whispering to one another, saying he’s ‘got a crush on the school nurse’ he swears he’s gonna write up the whole grade.
god, it’s even worse when one of the eighth grade girls come up to him when he’s on lunch duty.
“mr., mr. ! did you know the nurse mentioned she likes tall guys when i went into her room for a tylenol !”
“what does that have to do with me ?” he grumbles, scrunching his face while the girl and her friend stare up at him.
“well everyone knows you like like her—”
“GO SIT DOWN!”
he swears the whole lunchroom conveniently goes quiet when he yells that as the girls squirm away back to their tables and start whispering around gossip.
and even worse than the girls that draw hearts around you and sukuna’s staff photos next to eachother in the main office, he’s got gojo. gojo, who ships you two and nags him like worse-than a middle school girl. gojo, who shoves you two together for any school event.
“what game do you have planned for tomorrow?” you ask, leaning over to whisper to sukuna as eighth grade awards are called for each subject, timing claps inbetween your words while names are called. you smirk, “how many kids am i gonna have sent my way next time?”
“just dodgeball.” he leans down to whisper flatly against your ear, still staring down a kid giggling in the seating rows of the auditorium and effectively getting him to stop with his gaze.
“your version of dodgeball is basically to the death, i might have to have paramedics in my room on standby.” you joke, turning to smile at him so sweetly. in his mind, this counts as him making you laugh and therefore counts as a win.
he chuckles lightly, just a quick huff of his chest, but essentially the hardest he can laugh if he’s not looking at a kid getting tackled in class. “these kids will toughen up eventually, i am just teaching them to do it early.”
“were you a weak kid that needed to toughen up? i can really only picture you as a big scary dude.”
“i was actually a severely malnourished child due to my mothers impoverished state during her pregnancy.“ he says, truly not realizing how solemn he sounds in his voice even as he means it as a light hearted jest.
you blink at him, face contorted in confusion and awkwardness. he wants to hit himself.
the only thing that saves him from not saying anything stupid again is the end of the assembly, marked by gojo yelling into a megaphone and for kids to round up by homeroom.
the following week he’s still embarrassed to even look you in the eyes. he’s mulling over how stupid he must’ve looked infront of you while sifting through the equipment closet.
he hears steps echo throughout the currently empty gym before he yells out.
“gojo i’m not covering your lunch break, fuck off—” he turns around to not see the usual suspect he finds during his free period. instead, he sees you, leaning against the door in scrubs and white coat clinging to your body. he stills in his motion.
you speak before he can (if he can speak at all in his embarrassed state).
“i understand the confusion, he bothers me all the time too.” you dismiss, smiling at him with your glossed lips he probably thinks about hourly. waitwaitwait, gojo talks to you all the time ? he’s going to kill that lanky fuck. “just wanted to drop these off for yuri in your next period.” you jostle around a pill bottle in your hand, “she can get fainty on gym days so give these to her just in case to help prevent that.” he knows it’s your job and all, but your concern is honestly kinda cute.
“uhh yeah i’ll be sure to.” he nods, right as you drop the bottle on top of a stack of rubber cones by the door before you walk out. and he would just like it to be known he definitely didn’t stare at your ass as you left.
and he typically makes it easier for himself to deny how down bad he is to you, but now, after you spent a week of saved up sick days out last week, he’s kind of craving your voice. so who can blame him when he calls his 6th grade nephew into his office while he’s supposed to be at lunch.
“look, kid. i’m going to need you to do something, and i’m gonna need you to not be annoying about it, kay?”
yuji furrows his brows, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie.
“you,” he gestures to his nephew, “are going to act like you collapsed and let me bring you up to the school nurse. you are then going to be quiet when i talk to her.”
“is it cause you have a crush on her—”
sukuna tenses before cutting him off.
“do a good job acting and i will consider buying you that human earthworm blu-ray. do you hear me, brat?”
yuji’s eyes light up at the mention of the dvd.
“is this impression good enough then?” yuji leans and clutches at his side in fake fatigue while moaning dramatically for help, then immediately straightens up with a smile like he’s waiting for a rating. sukuna shakes his head and genuinely wonders how he’s related to this—in sukuna’s words— pea brained doofus.
he dials your number on his offices phone, sitting tense in his chair while he shh’s yuji. yuji nods and salutes as sukuna continues to roll his eyes.
yuji could’ve sworn he saw him smile when you pick up. he continues to watch sukuna fiddle with the curled wire of the phone as he explains yuji’s apparently dire situation. he can just barely hear the muffled sound of you saying ‘just bring him up and i’ll check him out.” over the speaker of the phone before sukuna hangs up and fixes his hair.
sukuna walks out the door and desperately tries to ignore yuji’s terrible post fainting impression behind him as his nephew follows his step to your room.
just before they step into your room he whispers to yuji as he leans over.
“if you can bring up me being single i’ll take you out for ice cream, brat.”
summ: your prize for winning a beer pong game was getting shared by two frat boys upstairs. consider it one of the house privileges.
⋆ pairing: frat boy!chan x f!reader x frat boy!jisung
⋆ genre: smut (minors dni)
⋆ tags/cw: college au, threesome, rough sex, dom!chansung, pet names (baby, good/pretty girl), alcohol mention, kissing, dirty talk, degradation, praise kink, oral fixation, fingering, tit play, nipple play, hair pulling, ass slaps, oral (m!receiving), cum eating, creampie, unprotected sex, semi-public sex
⋆ words: 2.8k
a/n: UGH. here i am with the most mouth-watering, toe-curling fic i’ve posted so far. idk what possessed me while writing this request, but i’m honestly grateful it did lol. yes, the jisung favoritism is still painfully obvious (my bad), but chan in this one??? insane. don’t know why i haven’t written him before. hope you enjoy those two men sharing you!!! >_<
the bass from downstairs rattled the cheap picture frames hanging on the hallway walls. the smell of cigarettes and cheap liquor was strong, making your head feel lighter. laughter echoed from every corner of the house.
but none of it held your attention for long because your eyes were fixed on han jisung.
he stood across the beer pong table with that stupid, cocky smile you wanted to wipe off his face, lazily rolling the ping pong ball between his fingers while the crowd around you shouted over one another.
the grin on his face only widened before he tossed you the ball with an easy flick of his wrist, leaning back against the wall behind him, completely relaxed.
“last cup, baby,” he called, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. “you miss, you drink. make me proud and don’t miss your shot, jagi.”
his words were dripping with teasing flirtation, making you roll your eyes. even if the heat in your lower abdomen just kept building every time your eyes locked in his.
“you’re so annoying, hannie,” you teased, giggling at his offended expression.
you glanced down at the ball, turning it between your fingers while focusing on the last red cup sitting alone at the opposite end of the table.
and maybe it was the alcohol buzzing pleasantly through your system or the way jisung kept looking at you with that smug expression. either way, your thoughts felt hazy.
before taking the shot, your gaze drifted across the room, landing immediately on christopher.
he was sprawled across one of the couches with a drink in his hand, surrounded by half the fraternity. one arm rested along the back of the couch, his legs spread comfortably, messy blond hair falling into his eyes.
he’d been watching the entire game, his eyes never leaving you. he tilted his head slightly, that lazy smile on his face making your heart skip a beat.
“watch this,” you mouthed, knowing he would read your lips.
without hesitating, your wrist snapped forward. the ball arced cleanly across the table before dropping straight into the center cup, beer splashing over the rim.
the crowd roared behind you. one of your friends threw an arm around your shoulders before practically lifting you off the floor, laughing like you’d just won a championship instead of a stupid drinking game.
before you could even catch your breath, jisung’s hand was wrapped gently around your wrist, pulling you out of the whole crowd.
“c’mon, let’s get out of here,” he murmured, leaning close enough for only you to hear. “there’s less people upstairs.”
you laughed, breathless. you knew damn well neither of you had any intention of talking. he intertwined his fingers with yours and started leading you toward the staircase before anyone could stop you.
and right before disappearing into the hallway, you looked back, searching for christopher. as always, he was already looking at you with one eyebrow raised.
you tipped your head toward the second floor, blinking with a flirtatious smirk on your face. the corner of his mouth lifted in that slow, knowing way that always made your knees feel loose.
he barely nodded, letting you know that the message was received.
the music faded with every step upstairs. the hallway felt strangely quiet compared to the chaos below, the music little more than a muffled thump beneath your feet.
some doors were slightly open while others were locked, giving you a vague idea of what could be happening there. neither of you paid them much attention.
with little grace, jisung pushed open the first empty room he found and slipped you inside after him. you kicked the door shut behind you, the loud slam echoing through the hallway.
the second the door shut you were on him.
your mouths crashed, wet and urgent. jisung groaned into the kiss like he’d been starving for it all night, teeth catching your lower lip, sucking hard enough to sting, the sound vibrating against your tongue.
everything felt desperate, needy. his hands shoved under your top without ceremony, palms burning against your skin, sliding up your ribs until his thumbs pressed into the soft underside of your breasts.
“slow down, ji,” you mumbled against his mouth, a shaky smirk on your lips. your voice was already fading away, panting for air.
but he didn’t waste time.
jisung bent, palms sliding under your tights and lifting you like you weighed nothing. a small whimper slipped from your lips at the sudden movement, your legs wrapping around his waist on instinct, ankles locking at the small of his back.
the thick, clothed line of his cock pressed hard against your cunt through his jeans, the pressure relentless. you began to feel impatient, your hands roaming along his back, scratching loosely.
your body hit the wall, the impact forcing a whimper from your throat. jisung rolled his hips, slow and deliberate, grinding the rigid length against you, gasping and groaning obscenities. the friction dragging low moans and whines out of you, your thighs trembling around him.
“fuck, you’re driving me crazy. been staring at you all night,” he muttered, biting the side of your neck hard enough to make you whine. “let’s do something about it, yeah?”
with a grin on his face, he carried you to the bed and dropped you onto the mattress. the springs squeaked under your weight, bouncing. you pushed up onto your elbows just in time to see him crawling over you, eyes dilated.
he yanked his shirt off and tossed it aside, careless. his hands were quickly at your top, dragging it up and off, gaze dropping to watch the way your tits moved with the motion.
he reached for your bra next, fingers hooking the straps and pulling them down your arms in one slow drag. with a smooth motion he unhooked the clasp, throwing your bra far, far away.
both of you were breathing hard. you reached for the back of his neck and dragged him down into another kiss, messy and deep. jisung groaned against your mouth, the sound raw.
“fuck this,” he panted. “come here, baby.”
his mouth was on your tits before you could catch your breath. your face scrunched when he sucked one of your nipples, his tongue flicking fast and erratic, teeth scraping just enough to make your back arch.
“you sound so pretty,” he said, voice muffled against your breast. “wanna hear more of it.”
his free hand squeezed the other breast, thumb rolling over the stiff peak while his hips ground down on your crotch, seeking more friction. you could easily feel how hard he was, the thick ridge of him dragging against your cunt through too many annoying layers.
“ji- shit… please, s-slow down,” you breathed, finger twisting into his hair. your voice sounded broken, eyes blurred.
he left your breast with a short pop, leaving a deep, fast kiss on your lips before switching sides, sucking even harder. the wet sounds his mouth filled the small room.
you moaned loudly, biting your lower lip when you felt his free hand slide down your stomach, popping the button on your shorts and shoving inside. he dragged two fingers above your soaked panties, the warmth sending a sick thrill through him.
“mmmh- stop teasing,” you begged, your wet eyes looking at his.
“y’know your wish is my command, baby.”
he shoved his hand inside your panties right away, finding you already slick when he dragged his fingers through your folds. the amusement and arousal painted across his face.
it was too much, he couldn’t hold back any longer.
he bit his lip before pushing two fingers in without warning. you moaned and whimpered loudly, hips jerking up to meet his fast paced thrusts.
jisung cupped one of your tits in his hand, pinching and rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. his cock throbbing inside his pants, screaming for attention.
“already this wet? we’ve barely started,” he teased, a pout on his lips. he pumped his fingers faster, curling them on every pull. “chris’s gonna lose his fucking mind when he feels this.”
and like you had summoned him, the door clicked open.
unbothered, jisung looked over his shoulder. that wide heart-shaped smile growing on his face when he found christopher closing the door behind him with deliberate calm, leaning back against it. your cunt clenched around jisung’s fingers, expectantly.
christopher’s eyes traveled over the scene: your bare chest, jisung’s fingers still buried inside you, the small tears threatening to roll down your cheeks any minute now. he smirked slowly, hungry.
“started without me,” he noticed, tilting his head. his eyes fixed on you.
you lifted your head, voice hoarse. “thought you’d never get here...”
his smile sharpened at your words. he pushed off the door and crossed the room quickly. his hand found jisung’s shoulder, squeezing once, firm, before sliding down to cup your face, squeezing your cheeks.
“missed you too, baby,” he left a peck on your swollen lips.
jisung pulled his fingers free with a wet sound, sitting back on his heels with his chest heaving. a satisfied grin on his shiny, wet lips. both of you looked at christopher when he stripped his own shirt off, revealing his toned chest.
he approached the bed with a couple strides, immediately reaching for your shorts, yanking them down your legs along with your panties in one smooth, fast motion.
jisung drooled at the view of your naked body, his hand caressing his crotch, feeling the sick urgency of being buried inside you.
“want you on your knees. now,” his tone left no room for argument.
you slid off the bed eagerly, obedient. christopher sat on the edge of the mattress, legs spread. he tugged you between his open legs, unbuttoning his jeans and freeing his cock with ease.
it was already hard, thick, and flushed, the head glistening. you felt your mouth watering at the obscene sight. he wrapped a hand around the base, jerking it lazily with a smile on his face, his eyes never leaving yours.
his hand went to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, tapping the tip of his cock against your lower lip teasingly. your cheeks flushed violently at the shameless action.
“open your mouth, pretty girl,” he demanded, his fingers tangling in your hair. “want you to take it all.”
and you did without hesitation, desperate for the feeling of him fucking your mouth until your brain melts.
your eyes sparkled with excitement when his cock slid slowly inside, letting you feel every inch until the head nudged the back of your throat. the full feeling lit you on fire, the heat on your lower abdomen bursting.
“there you go,” he cooed, his thumb stroking your cheek. “just like that, good job.”
you watched him nod to jisung, who was almost in a trance watching the scene developing in front of him.
you could hear him unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans behind you, his warm hands brushing along your back until his fingers dug down on your hips, possessive.
a sharp inhale left you when he dragged you backwards until your ass was pressed against his dick. his hands caressed your thighs, pushing them apart gently, barely holding himself together when he saw your entrance willing for him and only him.
“gonna fuck you while you suck him,” jisung purred, voice bright and filthy. “ready for that, pretty girl?”
a small nod was all he needed. you sobbed aggressively when jisung’s blunt head nudged your soaked, slippery hole. losing your mind every time his free hand squeezed your ass, licking his lower lip.
jisung sank deeper, thrusting in hard until he felt the flushed head of his cock poking your cervix harshly. the stretch punched a moan out of you that vibrated around christopher’s length, making him hiss with pleasure.
“god… look at you. bet you’re dying for me to come in your mouth,” christopher hummed, smiling smugly. his grip on your hair tighter.
you nodded too quickly, too desperately. hollowing your cheeks, you shoved forward onto his cock, not stopping until your nose brushed the trimmed hair at his base. he petted your hair delicately, gripping your hair hard to guide your head in short, deep, controlled thrusts that matched jisung’s pace.
his hips stuttered, your gagging noises arousing him even more. the warm, slick feeling of your mouth sucking his length so eagerly dragging groans and whines out of him. he wouldn’t last any longer if you kept doing it this good.
“y-yeah, eyes on me, pretty girl,” he panted, biting his lower lip, frowning. “wanna see your cute face when i come in your mouth.”
your eyes were pinned on his aroused expression, fighting the urge to roll them back with every stimulus both of them gave you.
some tears started to fall down your cheeks when his thrusts began quicker, chasing his own orgasm now.
his hand gripped on the bedsheets under him, shutting his eyes tight when he started spilling into your mouth. hot pulses hit the back of your throat, making you choke with the big load that was sliding down it.
“shit- wanna see you swallow it,” he whined, releasing the grip on your hair slowly and pulling out his dick with a soft pop.
you did it, swallowing all of it with effort until there was nothing left. you opened your mouth shakily, peeking your tongue out for him. and christopher could just come right there just from that obscene image of you.
and even when you started panting for air, jisung didn’t let you catch a break at all.
the slow thrusts he maintained for a while started to grow a brutal pace, hips slapping against your ass, making it recoil. his smirk growing at the wet sound of your cunt taking him loud and obscene.
“mmh- so tight. made for my dick,” he panted, slapping your ass twice, making you cry loudly. “you must like being used like this, huh?” his voice was lewd, nasty. “our little frat house toy.”
his words hit somewhere deep and hot inside you, making your cunt clench around his cock even tighter. he reached around to rub your clit in tight circles, his fingers were relentless, slick with your arousal. the sensation of his cock pounding into you quickly unraveling you.
christopher caressed your face, shoving his thumb inside your parted mouth. your eyes darted at him, half-lidded.
“look at you, dripping down his cock already,” he mocked, drinking in every inch of your face.
“oh shit- you’re milking me so fucking hard,” jisung huffed, giggling breathless at your broken, incoherent moans. “be good and come for me, baby.”
your eyes rolled back when his pace became even wilder, messier. it was almost animalistic, making you whimper with each deep, erratic thrust.
“it’s- s’too much, jisung…” you cried, your face scrunched, drooling over christopher’s fingers. “fuck, feel so full… mmh- so, so c-close...”
his free hand slid up your spine and fisted in your hair, pulling your head back further until your throat was exposed. he leaned in, leaving some open-mouthed kisses and sucking your skin before his teeth scraped the shell of your ear.
your legs went numb when your orgasm hit sharp and sudden, thighs shaking, a broken sound tearing out of your abused, sore throat. your whole body was shaking, your hands closed into fists while your head dropped down, shut your wet eyes close.
and jisung fucked you through it, his pace never faltering, until your cunt stopped fluttering around him. his hands brushing your back, soothing you until you came back from your high.
“oh shit-” his legs jerked, hips chasing you. “gonna cum inside you, fuck- you’re milking me…” he babbled, whispering low on your ear.
his whole body was shaking, overstimulated, his only thought being the feeling of your pussy gripping him desperately, completely soaked. his hands went to your tits, squeezing them and using them as support.
his cock twitched helplessly inside you, pulsing as he spilled deep inside you. his fingers dug into your breasts hard enough to leave red marks on them. it was messy, you could feel it leaking down your thighs already.
“you did a good job,” christopher praised, his voice warm, soothing. “shower’s down the hall. we’ll clean you up.”
jisung pressed a kiss on your cheek, way softer now, while pulling out of you gently. a wicked smile across his face when he saw the mess he created between your legs. he ran a hand through his sweaty hair, sighing loudly.
“then… we can go home and do whatever you want,” he blinked, sticking his tongue out a little, teasing.
you laughed, hoarse, and let them pull you upright between them after getting dressed up again. christopher’s arm stayed around your waist while jisung’s fingers laced through yours.
synopsis: felix was in the middle of a meeting with his mafia board members, and you decided to just storm in wearing something unexpected.
cw: MDNI, mafia stuff (duh), mentions of arranged marriage, reader is a brat lowkey lol, she’s also a little isolated so i can’t blame her, exhibitionism, dom!felix/sub!reader, office sex (technically speaking), vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, unprotected sex (don’t!), p.i.v, pet names (angel, princess, good girl, and a lot more lol)
let me know if i’m missing anything!!
wc: 2775
a/n: the people have spoken!! enjoy this mafia!lix fic because i’m just a girl who can’t help herself 🫠🫠 also this fic is rather short because 1) i just wanted to write the smut and 2) this is more of a concept fic sooooo if i have more ideas to develop the au then maybe i will😅 anyways, if you enjoyed it, leave a reblog, comment, and a like! your support is always appreciated <333
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You are married to the most formidable crime lord in all of Korea: Lee Felix. At least that’s what the people who work for him think. What they don’t know is that when it comes to you, he has the biggest soft spot. So he is the least scariest person ever to you. He can say no to negotiations, but he can’t say no to you. So many gifts, money, affection, and attention were all just handed to you on a silver platter, that you might as well be spoiled rotten. Sometimes, Felix’s men couldn’t comprehend how on Earth you managed to become his wife. Yes, your marriage was arranged by your super rich father, but your personality shouldn’t work well with Felix’s.
Felix was all no-nonsense. The most dangerous man in the country. He was ruthless with his rules, his orders, and his actions towards his enemies. No one dared to cross him otherwise that could mean their demise. But you? You always crossed the lines Felix’s men weren’t ever allowed to cross. You pranced around the tower, wore whatever the Hell you wanted, said whatever you wanted without any filter, and caused whatever chaos as long as it didn't end up spilling the mafia’s secrets to the public.
Which you obviously wouldn’t ever do. You were reckless, but you were always a good girl first. Actually making Felix mad was the last thing you’d ever want to do, so you stayed in whatever bounds Felix put you in, which were some of your college friends who he deemed trustworthy and your father.
But you had to admit, sometimes things do get boring every now and then. Sometimes, you didn’t just want to stay in the penthouse. Sometimes, your friends were busy with their own lives, and sometimes, your father was too tipsy to pick up the phone. Sometimes, you just wanted Felix to hold you, touch you, kiss you, fuck you. You just wanted Felix instead of some other thing or person to keep you company.
You were in the penthouse, sitting on the couch and wearing nothing but your blue silk nightgown. You were idly scrolling through the streaming services on the flatscreen TV, figuring out what movie to watch. Anything to pass the time until Felix gets home, you kept thinking to yourself. However, there was nothing to actually watch. All the movies on the screen were just nothing burger films or movies you had seen before. Maybe you’d be willing to put on some Disney movie if Felix were holding you close now, but he wasn’t there so there’s no real point. Not even some cheap porn on the screen could make you feel anything but frustrated because there wasn’t a Felix with you who would’ve gone faster than your fingers.
You sighed, and pulled out your phone to look at the time. It was 11:30 PM.
“How long is that stupid meeting?!” You cried out.
You groaned and stood up before throwing your phone into the sofa blanket. You wanted to stomp your feet, throw anything at the walls, and just about anything to take your frustration out. However, you knew that doing that would just make Felix upset, and it wouldn’t get you what you wanted. You huffed before seeing the new shopping bag that was still sitting on the vintage white arm chair next to the couch. It’s been there since you came back from the shopping center earlier in the day. A lightbulb turned on in your head.
Looks like I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.
x•x•x•x
Felix was in the middle of another one of his late night meetings with his mafia executives and henchmen, and his head was killing him. The hours were dragging on, no one could come to an agreement for how to deal with the illegal trade issues, the race with the rival gangs, and how much money to pay the police chief to keep his lips shut. If anything, all Felix wanted to do at the moment was to just forget about the deals for a few hours and go back upstairs to the penthouse to see you. His sweet wife, always so devoted and so good to him. You always looked at him with such wide eyes and blushed like a newly wedded bride every time he looked at you.
Suddenly, the doors to the large conference room opened, and all the men turned their heads to see what seemed to be Aphrodite herself. Speak of the devil. Felix’s eyes widened, and he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. There you were, wearing a cute, glittery red mini dress that almost left very little to the imagination. The hem was where a belt should be, and your breasts were threatening to spill out of the top. Your makeup was bold with the red eyeshadow, sharp eyeliner, and sinfully glossy lips. Your luscious hair was in a blow out style, and your red heels made your lovely legs longer.
Felix takes a deep breath, trying to keep his composure at your unexpected presence. The men even tried to keep their eyes away, as their hearts heavily pumped all the blood rushing down their bodies.
“Darling, what brings you here?” He asked.
A wide smile formed on your face, and you wasted no time to run up to him just to kiss his face.
“Hi, Honey,” you giggled, nuzzling your cheek against his. “I was just missing you.”
“Missing me, eh?” Felix asked, “You missed me so much that you look like you’re about to go clubbing?”
You playfully scoffed and crossed your arms, fully feigning offense.
“I wanted to surprise you!” You said, “You like the dress?”
“Like it?” Felix asked. His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You almost landed in his lap, and more red flushed up your cheeks. He nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling all that sweet jasmine perfume. “I think liking it would be an understatement, Angel.”
His lips brushed against your skin, coaxing a giggle out of you. You couldn’t help but squirm with the way his hands travelled down to your hips, heat flushing all the way to your cheeks. His hold on you tightened, and the butterflies deep in your tummy fluttered.
“Uhh, Boss?” A man asked, who was sitting across the table. Felix immediately looked away from you and faced the other seven men in the room, who just looked surprised at their boss being physically affectionate with you. “What about the meeting?”
Felix cleared his throat.
“Ah, yes, Hyunjin,” he said, “My apologies, everyone, but we can continue the discussion another time. You’re all dismissed.”
“But, Sir,” another man stood up. He had straight black hair with a white streak and eyes shaped like a fox’s. “Our rivals are already ahead of us in the trade. If we don’t—”
“I’m very aware, Jeongin.”
Felix’s voice was firm and sent shivers down everyone’s spines. Even you swallowed heavily from his serious tone, but also you couldn’t help but feel a little bit giddy. Felix was always sexy when he was firm and commanding.
“I’m aware of our situation, but like I said, we can continue the discussion later.”
You sucked in a breath when his fingers tightened on your waist.
“Besides,” Felix said, leaning close to your ear to plant a tender kiss. “I have a much more urgent matter right now.”
Pink flooded the apples of your cheeks, and you squirmed in his lap again. Meanwhile, all the men in the room looked at you and Felix a little dumbfounded. You surely must be a brave one to distract the big bad boss. But of course, the men had to walk out the office door, leaving you and Felix alone to your own devices. Once the door closed, a smirk grew on Felix’s face.
“Very bold of you to come here and interrupt my meeting like that, Angel,” Felix said. “I was in the middle of an important deal.”
“Whaaaattt, I just wanted to see you,” you said, playing it off like it wasn’t a big deal. “Plus, it was getting late, and the bed got cold.”
Felix chuckled. You always were the needy type, and who was he to not indulge his princess? Especially when you put in so much effort into your current, glittery appearance.
“Awww, my poor Angel,” he cooed, as he caressed your cheek with his knuckles. “Couldn’t stand a day without me? The penthouse was awfully quiet, I bet. Not much to do with yourself, while I was slaving away in the conference room, right?”
You nodded, and Felix held your cheek gently.
“That’s what I thought,” he said, “Bet you couldn’t even touch yourself properly because your needy self is used to me.”
Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a twitch in between your legs. Felix’s hand was on your bare, plush thigh, threatening to slip underneath the hem of your dress and find the wettest and tiniest piece of lace. Your breathing got a little heavy, more heat pooled down to your core, and the way your pupils dilated wasn’t lost on Felix at all. He gently bit on your collarbone, making you whine.
“No,” you said, “It’s not the same without you…”
Felix kissed your pouty lips, tasting the sweet frosting-flavored lipgloss. You gasped and eagerly kissed him back. Your fingers found their way home in his blonde hair, and Felix pressed your body further against his. You whined at the feeling of his leg in between your thighs, rubbing against your core. You couldn’t even handle the way your sensitive breasts rubbed up against his hard chest.
“Is that right?” Felix asked, his deep, Australian accent sending vibrations straight from your spine to your clit. “My cock’s better than those fingers of yours?”
He rolled his hips, and you moaned at the feeling of the hard tent in his pants against you. He was harder than the pistol in his holster. As if you weren’t already wet, you were damn soaking. Felix could feel it, too. Of course he could. He could even see it spill down to your bare thighs. It only made him want to tease you more.
“Yes, Felix!” You whined, feeling another thrust of his clothed tent. “I need you! Please!”
Suddenly, Felix picked you up and plopped you onto the tabletop. He pushed your legs apart, revealing the sliver of your red lacy panties.
“You want me, Angel?” He asked, “Well, I’ll give it to you.”
Felix didn’t waste any time to pull down your panties right before shoving two of his fingers inside of you. You whined loudly and arched your back against the mahogany wood. Your pussy immediately clenched onto Felix’s fingers, and more of your wetness dripped and oozed onto his hand, the more he thrusted them in and out.
“Awww that’s it,” Felix cooed. He loved watching your face all flushed with need and pleasure. Especially when he knows he’s hitting the right spots over and over again. Even your pretty areolas couldn’t help but pop out of your dress, which made Felix’s mouth water. “My pretty little distraction’s taking my fingers so well, isn’t she?”
He pushed his fingers in harder, forcing a loud moan out of you.
“Felix!” You whined.
“So tight, Baby,” he hissed, “Squeezing my fingers so much, and it’s not even my cock. My poor Angel must’ve been very desperate then.”
“So desperate.”
You couldn’t even think straight. The tips of his fingertips were so precise in hitting your sweet spot repeatedly, and you could only feel the build up in your warm gut.
“Honey!” You whined, “I’m about to—”
Felix immediately pulled his fingers out of you, leaving your poor, pretty cunt to cry and clench over air. You whined and tears broke out of your ducts.
“Feeeelliiixxxxxx,” you cried.
“Don’t worry, My Dearest Wife,” Felix said. He stepped a little away from you to unbuckle his belt and undo his pants. Another jolt went through your body at the sound of his gun hitting the wooden floor. “I’ll give you what you want. Just be patient like a good girl.”
Once he undid his zipper, Felix pulled out his thick and hard cock. You trembled at the way it was pointing at you, like it was ready to just burst at any moment. Felix inched closer to you, but you wanted him closer. You pulled on his black tie and wrapped your legs around his waist. Felix couldn’t help but laugh a little.
“So eager,” he said, caressing your heated cheeks. Felix leaned in to give you another deep kiss. You kissed him back, and you moaned against his lips as your cunt rubbed against the tip of his hard cock. “Come on, Angel, take me in then.”
Felix thrusted his hips, pushing his cock inside of you. The two of you moaned, and Felix’s grip on your waist tightened before he kept going and faster. You whined and cried, and you weakly grabbed onto the back of his white button down shirt, pulling down the fabric for dear life. He felt so damn good. Way better than any of your fingers or toys ever could.
“Felix!” You cried, as your sopping wet pussy clenched onto his cock, squeezing it tightly and refusing to let go. “Oh my god!”
“Yes, my good sweet angel,” Felix deeply moaned into your ear, which gave you more chills. “You feel so good. I almost forgot that you like to be such a disrupter.”
“I’m not!”
Another moan was forced out of your lungs, and you saw more stars with every hit on your cervix. Felix even reached his thumb down to rub your clit, which only made you wetter.
“Oh, but you are, Angel,” Felix said, as he pressed the pad of his thumb on your sensitive bud, making you squeak and wince. “My poor men just wanted to have an important meeting like the good businessmen they are, but of course, you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. My needy girl couldn’t wait for her husband to come home.”
You whined again, and you could’ve sworn he was getting bigger the more he thrusted inside you. His grip on your hips was bruising, and he was on the verge of bursting. You were so damn dizzy, for you just took whatever he was giving you, like always.
“Felix!” was all you could scream out with your high-pitched, needy voice.
“That’s right, my sweet wife,” Felix said, “My good girl. Wanna cum?”
You cried out another moan. The pressure in your stomach was getting too much, and you weren’t so sure how high up in the galaxy you could go with every time Felix’s dick would hit your sweet spot. Felix rubbed his thumb against your clit once again to add in that extra stimulation.
“Cum, Angel,” Felix ordered.
White was all you could see within the next second. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you spasmed all over Felix’s cock. It wasn’t even long before he busted and released all of his white, hot cum inside of your greedy walls. Once the two of you climaxed, you both stopped moving and allowed your chests to heave against each other. Felix was still lodged inside of you, and damn, did it still feel so good.
“Hi, Honey…” you said breathlessly.
Felix laughed lightly, and he caressed your cheek.
“Hi, Angel,” he said, “It felt good?”
“Yes,” you nodded, “Like always.”
Felix’s lips met yours for a deep kiss, and you kissed him back.
“Good,” he said.
“Can you come home now?”
You tugged on his tie, playing with it like it was some kind of cat toy. God, you were so cute, and he was so damn soft for it. Felix was the strongest man in all of Korea, but you were his only weakness. If anyone else dared to lay a small flick on you, they would probably be executed on the spot. Felix couldn’t help it when he nuzzled his nose against yours.
“If I come home now,” Felix said, “Will you promise to not interrupt my next meeting?”
“But, Feeelliiixxxxx,” you pouted.
“I know, I know,” he laughed before kissing your forehead. “A lot to ask. My pretty little distraction.”
“Hey!”
“Am I wrong?”
“Ugh, fine. I’ll be good tomorrow.”
“That’s more like it,” Felix kissed your pouty lips once more before picking you up, carrying you in his arms bridal style. “Alright, Angel, let’s go home.”
· strangers to lovers | sub!bangchan x poc!reader
· wc - 9.9k
· cw - oral (f. rec), fingering, spit, unprotected piv, overstimulation (m. rec), brief aftercare, light choking, alcohol consumption
· a/n - LMAOO cryingscreamingdying i have not done this in long time,, like really it's been a while gO EASY ON ME. and also hi hello wow *nervous laughter intensifies*
“Not cocky, just Chan.” He smiles, an honest smile without the smug little mask. There's nothing deceiving about it this time. “Nice to meet ya.”
You and your friend arrive on the property, and immediately, you know you're overdressed. The villa up North, it sounds like something you might want to wear your highest heels for. So that's what you did, heels, your best black halter neck dress, a watch that doesn't tick. You've never been to a party like this, a party this big and out of town. Your friend is no better, truly a baddie and her baddie friend from head to toe.
You walk alongside her up the windy path that you'd be complaining about if you both didn't pregame as hard as you did. The house is rustic and down to earth. A stone chimney with warm colors, brown and green and a deep mahogany all over the front patio. You see the party through the front window, gold toned lights showcasing the blur of people, but it's casual at best.
The most casual thing about your appearance is the neutral tones glossing your lips.
“Girl, what the fuck…” Your friend notices first and can't help but mutter to herself, heels clicking against the concrete path. You can't help but cover your laugh, “Nah, it's okay. We can't be the only ones.”
You go up the path, checking out the homey vibes and admiring it in its full glory. This house is straight out of a Pinterest mood board, undeniably so. The music gets louder the closer you get, and the worries about your outfit start to fade away as the bass sweeps them to the back of your mind. There's a few people sitting at the patio, smoking whatever it is they need to to be social butterflies.
“Let's see,” Your friend whispers and presses her hands together briefly in a mock prayer, then reaches for the knob and pushes. It's more lively inside than it looks on the outside. The music is a good mix of y2k classics and current hits that make you instantly start to nod your head. You're glad you didn't take that extra shot beforehand or else you'd have an instant headache.
The attire is casual with a few outliers, a relief. There are more than two pairs of unnecessarily tall heels and that makes you sigh, a grin on your lips. You nudge your friend, “See, I told you, bitch.” And nod your head in the direction of a group with more shiny jewelry twinkling under the warmth of the lights than you two. “Party in a villa, it's misleading as fuck. I told you.”
Your friend rolls her eyes with relief and visibly relaxes, shoulders uncoiled. “Thank you, God.”
“We splitting up or stayin–”
“Don't ask me stupid questions right now please,” she grabs your wrist and starts forward, forging her path and shaking her head. “Like, for real. Please.”
You throw your head back and laugh, “My bad, my bad.”
There are drinks somewhere. She can sense it, somehow. As if she's got an air tag on the kitchen, she leads you both to the island full of bottles and drinks, cups, ice, snacks. Everything. Tipsy girl heaven.
“Hah, nice.” She nods, grips the neck of a bottle without reading the label. Your wrist is released in favor of a cup, so many cups you'd think Solo sponsored the party themselves. She grabs two and starts on filling them, laughing mischievously. “‘Bout to get into some shit tonight, I can feel it in my bones.”
You watch her pour up two cups while also surveying the party as well. There's oddly more space in the middle than the outsides, the deeper into the house you get the more chill it seems to get. Counterintuitive, but gives you room to breathe. She hands you your cup, overfilled but who really cares when it's free liquor?
“Cheers, bitch.” She holds up her red plastic spark of joy, “To the fallen homies.”
You scoff, eyes narrowed. “We are from upstate.”
“To the fallen homies!” She insists, holding the cup closer to yours. “C'mon now, stop playin’ with me.”
“You know what? Fuck it.” You shrug, bump your cup to hers and tip your head in her direction. “To the fallen homies, whoever they are.”
You sip in unison, and only one of you gags. The burn in your throat tells you that it's definitely something authentic and probably too expensive to be at a random party, but you indulge nonetheless.
“Aw, shit.” She grimaces, picking up the bottle to read the label, “Fuck me.”
“Should've done that before. Serves you right.” You shake your head and sip again, surveying the open floor plan further until you notice the fireplace. A group of people sat around the couch next to it. You're too nosey not to want to go over there.
You peek over shoulders and heads taller than you, obstructing your view. “Fuck they got goin’ on?”
Your friend looks in the same direction, shrugs.
“Hm, adventure time.” She glances at you. “Tryna find out?”
“I meeean,” You start, then your feet answer for you and your heels click over to the couch. Your friend’s heels click behind yours, redwood flooring carrying you over to satisfy your curiosity.
The deeper in you go, the more niche it seems to get. The party seems to have two groups, the flashy, aura farming, instagram story olympians, and the actual real people. Around the couch is a group of people dressed eclectically and seemingly focused on one person.
There's a coffee table littered with beer bottles, red cups, and an empty box for Bicycle branded cards. You look along the line of people sitting on the couch and find the apparent center of attention. A white Fendi tank, a ring for his pointer and middle finger respectively, and flushed knuckles shuffling cards.
“He wanna be David Blaine so bad.” Your friend murmurs, you can't help but to blow a harsh breath of laughter through your nose.
“Not that. Anything but that.”
He offers the deck to who he was talking to last, the boy in front of him. “So, cards are shuffled. You just saw me, right?” He speaks with so much confidence, as if that in itself is the trick.
The boy nods. He continues, “And you believe me when I say I'd never cheat, right?” Another nod.
He smirks. “Good. So then, your card shouldn't be at the top of the deck. Go ahead, take that top card and see for yourself.”
The boy hesitates, reaches as if the card might bite him. “You're fucking with me. I can feel it.”
“Never.” He smirks wider, glances down at the deck. “Go ahead, it won't run from you.”
The boy waits, smiles. Snatches the top card and looks down, sighs. The smile fades. “This isn't my card.”
“Ah, fuck. It's not?” He pretends to be surprised. Scratches the side of his head. “Hm, that can't be right. Certainly it should be on the top. I mean, you saw me shuffle the deck. It shouldn't be…”
He slides his thumb along the side of the deck, cuts it and then repeats. Three times. Separates the deck as evenly as he can into three stacks on the coffee table. “Here.” He picks up the top card from the left stack. Three of spades.
The boy's smile returns tenfold.
“And your card,” He points to the boy next to his current subject, hand hovering over the right stack, “The fuck is it doing here? I thought I told you to hold onto it, hm?” Eight of clubs.
The group, or rather crowd, gasps and laughs, grinning with disbelief and dopamine.
“How the– you can't steal the card I'm holding! I'm holding that one!” the boy, Changbin, shouts before he looks down and finds the Joker. His under eye twitches with confusion. “Chan, you fucking wizard.”
You share a glance with your friend, more intrigued than you'd both like to admit.
“Hm. Chan.” She lifts a brow, mischievous again.
Chan chuckles, then shrugs. “Gotta pay attention,” He looks around the group and finds one last victim. Lucky for you, you stand out like a flower in the desert. He smiles, tilts his head up and eyes you from your heels to your ponytail. “Like her. She's payin’ real close attention.”
Your eyes widen with surprise at being called out, especially in the middle of an unfinished trick. “Aren't you supposed to be focused on the cards?” You say before the liquid courage drains out of you. You hear a faint ‘oop’ from next you, your friend brushing a strand behind her ear.
Chan raises a brow, “I can multitask. Thought that was a given.” He glances down, points at the last unrevealed stack in the center. “Wanna help me with this last stack, doll?”
“Oh, he has an accent.” Your friend whispers. You don't react because you're locked in and must stay focused.
“Help you with what exactly?” You take a step closer, in too deep to back out now. He leans forward, elbows to knees, eyes never leaving yours. “A few little things. That alright?”
“Go ahead.” You stop right in front of the table. He looks down at your watch and raises a brow, scoots over on the couch.
“C'mere, get comfortable.” He pats the spot next to him, inviting and oddly alluring. You reciprocate the brow raise, sensing the tension he's skillfully building around you both. You oblige, clicking over to the empty spot and sitting with your back leaning against the arm of the couch, turned to face him.
“Now, just a few things I need from you.” Chan turns to face you too. “A number, a suit, and your magic touch. Gotta be your touch, or else someone will think I'm cheating.” He turns to look over his shoulder, the two boys from before watching with undivided attention.
They glance at each other, then at Chan. “Yeah, ‘cuz you're a fuckin' wizard.”
“Not a wizard,” He mumbles and shakes his head, looking back to your unwavering gaze. “Now, since you're dressed to the nines tonight, I suggest a nine. That okay with you, love?”
You prepare to agree, and one of his prior subjects, Hyunjin, points with accusation from next to him. “Cheater! Let her pick!”
“Hyunjin, you're way too into this.” Another boy, Seungmin, pats his shoulder from where he's stood beside the couch.
Chan closes his eyes briefly with a sigh, rolls his neck to one side, composing himself again and meeting your eyes with a fresh grin. “So, nine?”
You nod. “Nine’s fine.”
“Perfect. Next, a suit. Any suit you want.”
You glance at your friend, she's already looking at you. She shrugs, mouths “I don't fucking know either.” You look back to Chan.
He smiles, eyes crinkled at the sides. “Need me to tell you the suits, don't you, doll?”
You nod again. “Read my mind.”
Chan scoffs, looks down at his lap. “You're lucky you're cute and I can't be mad at you.” Then back at you. “Four suits. Spades, hearts, diamonds, clubs. Any of those sound good to you?”
You cross your legs, your knee brushing against his. Your back hits the corner of the couch, relaxed with a warm chest from the liquor and his subtle flirting that draws you into him and the trick he's setting up. “How about hearts, Mr. Fendi?”
He licks his lips, both brows raised now and an amused hum. “Ah, she knows her brands. A perceptive one. Trick might not work if you look too hard, you know.”
“You're the professional here, no?” You cross your arms over your lap, now it's your turn to look him up and down. You aren't subtle about it the way he was.
Chan smirks again, leans forward to the coffee table again. “You said it, not me.”
He runs his palms over his lap, points down at the untouched stack, “Alright, we got our number and our suit from the pretty girl in the pretty dress, and now all I need is your magic touch. If that's okay with you?”
“What kind of touch were you thinking of?” You sit up on the couch, more involved.
He extends his hand to you, silently asking for yours. “May I?”
“You may.” You give him your hand, acrylics neatly done and palm sliding into his. He doesn't look down at your joined hands yet, but his thumb runs across your knuckles before you can change your mind.
“Thank you, baby.” He smirks just enough to draw one from you, too.
He's clearly teasing now, testing the waters. It would be arrogant if he wasn't already two for three on the trick so far. “Now, see that top card there?” He points with his free hand.
“Mhm,” The back of your neck feels warm from the alcohol, your not so free hand brings your cup to your lips and sips more courage.
“Would you please be my good little doll and tap those cards for me?”
“Just a tap?”
He nods firmly, a single nod. “Just a tap.” His thumb mimics his words, tapping the back of your hand before it rubs over the smooth skin, leaving a faint prickly sensation. “Promise.”
You can't help but to smile, tongue in cheek. If he's got nothing else, he sure does have audacity. “Yes, sir.”
“Go on, then. I'll be waitin’ for ya.” He nudges his head over to the stack. You look at the card back, no clue what card is actually on top. You saw him do it, the shuffling and the cutting of the deck. He didn't cheat, couldn't have. Didn't have the time to. You stand up, pull your dress down before bending your knees to reach over, middle and ring fingers tapping the stack three times.
“Third time’s the charm, huh?” Chan says, watching your every move. His eyes drift to your legs as you stand and he was right. He can multitask. He notices the body shimmer on your skin, a lotion maybe. Looks nice under the warm lights, like glitter on honey. Before he can lose focus, his eyes dart back between you and the coffee table. He knows what he's doing.
You sit back down next to him, a satisfied grin at your participation. “That is what they say, isn't it?”
“Certainly is,” He nods, voice lower and more smug the closer he gets to the revelation. “Now, I've got your number, or hopefully I will by the end of this trick,” He looks into your eyes, “I've got your suit, and your beautiful magic touch. Think I'll get lucky?”
“If you can pull this off, we'll see.” You say, a product of your sip of courage. The group around you two are spectators to more than just the trick, the chemistry palpable. You aren't sure if it's also just part of the trick, but you couldn't care less with your mind and body so loosened up.
Chan’s eyes widen for a moment and he straightens up a bit, adjusts his jacket collar. “Wow, I better not fuck this up then.” He mumbles, his smirk renewed. He rests one hand on your knee, thumb finding its place caressing the skin right beneath your dress’s hem. His attention turns toward the group. “My lovely doll here, she saw me shuffle. Saw me cut the deck. And she knows I'd never cheat, don't you?” He only turns half of his attention to you, eyes peeking from the side over his shoulder, knowing you're listening. Knowing you're paying close attention to him.
And you are. “Mhm.”
“That's my girl.” He knocks on the table twice, thumb tapping your knee with something like praise, “Let’s see, then. We take our new friend here, flip ‘er over, and one, two, three…”
He takes the card off the top of the stack, flips it over, and surely enough, nine of hearts. The group erupts with disbelief again, skepticism from some, but another dopamine hit nonetheless. “There she is.”
“You are a wizard! I know a wizard when I see one, hyung!” Hyunjin stands, pointing with determined accusation.
Seungmin reaches a hand to his shoulder, patting a small thud over his leather jacket. “No more beers– hey! No one give Hyunjin any more beers.”
Chan picks up the nine of hearts, shows it to you with a smug smirk. “This belong to you?”
You look between the card, your pretty little magic card, and his brown eyes that seem to be looking for a prize. You can't confirm it, just a gut feeling. “Lucky guess.”
“I'm wounded.” He mutters low, shakes his head, eyes searching yours. “Thought you said I was the pro. Doubting the pro?”
“Don't get cocky now.”
He chuckles, eyes crinkled again. His hand pats your knee gently before it leaves entirely, body turned to face the table. “Never that.”
Chan picks up all the stacks, combines them and taps them against the refurbished wood to straighten them out before his fingers contort around them.
First, a riffle shuffle, both hands holding an even cut taut before the cards fly into a joined stack supported by fingers curled to the first knuckle, gliding against the pads of his thumbs. They sit over his fingertips as they fall to settle into a single proper stack with a final release of his curled fingers. Then, a faro shuffle, cutting the deck into two even stacks again and letting the edges slot together like pieces of a puzzle. His fingers curl again to keep them tight, not too tight as to bend the deck and dent the cards, and they fly neatly from one hand to the other.
He's too focused on the cards to see you glance knowingly at your friend, that look you give when you know you can read each other's minds. If you had to guess what she was thinking, it would be, “And he's good with his hands.”
“Alright, any other victims?” Chan looks up from his skilled shuffling and around the group, a boastful expression. They all look amongst each other, then Hyunjin gets up from the couch and shakes his head. “I need another drink before the wizard tricks me again.”
He walks past you and Chan, Seungmin hot and quick behind him. “It's like you hear me, but you don't ever listen to me.”
“Hyunjin-a, get me one!” Changbin shouts, but ends up following too. The rest of the group lingers, chatting and acknowledging Chan while also diverting attention to the party they were temporarily distracted from. Your friend sees you comfortable on the couch with Chan and decides to linger too. Not too close as to eavesdropping, but close enough to have your back if shit hits the fan.
“So, you always bring cards to parties?” You ask, turning your attention to Chan with another sip from your special red cup.
He turns to you, more directly facing you now that he has more room to himself. He smoothly tucks the cards into the box, then the box into his jacket pocket. “Not always. Friends like to watch when they're wasted.” He hums a laugh, glancing at his own beer bottle before leaning over to grab it, “How ‘bout you? Always look so fancy or is this a special occasion?”
“Want me to be honest?” You tip your head down, peering up from lashes adorned with mascara.
“Always, angel.”
“I was deceived.”
Chan laughs, hearty and genuine following a swig from his own bottle of courage. “Deceived? That your kink or somethin’?” He is the professional, the master of deception in his own rite. He's successfully deceived you, in the best way possible.
“I guess so.” You take another languid sip, ignoring the warmth that starts to sweep over your forehead and threatens to unslick your hair with a thin layer of sweat. You want to mentally scold yourself for not checking the proof of this alcohol, but you're too loose to care now.
“Well, lucky for me you were. You're hard to miss, you know.” He sits back, one knee pulled up on to the couch as he makes himself comfortable. “Glad I got to deceive you, too. You're fun to play with.”
“Told you not to get cocky.” You warn, entertained by his nonchalant and certain attitude. He's so sure of himself, but somehow it's not repelling. Quite the opposite.
“Not cocky, just Chan.” He smiles, an honest smile without the smug little mask. There's nothing deceiving about it this time. “Nice to meet ya.”
────────── ♡
Your watch is useless. You haven't checked it since you've been here. Your phone is in your clutch, out of sight and out of mind. Chan is your entertainment even without the cards, and you're the same for him. The others came back with drinks and the music seems to have gotten louder, the air warmer.
The couch is reserved for the two of you now, inching closer and closer every twenty minutes or so until your leg is draped over his knee, elbows propped as you lean into his personal space. He invites you, encourages you. A hand resting over your calf, then your knee, then your thigh. And eyes on you.
“You live around here?” You ask, tracing shapes over your cheek as your palms support your chin, relaxed and engaged, trying not to be a sleepy drunk.
You've already covered the basics. Name, age, who you came here with, how you got here. You asked about the accent, it made him laugh. He asked about yours, you rolled your eyes. It made him laugh.
“I do not actually, not too far out, though. ‘Bout an hour away.” Chan answers, head tilted lazily. His cheeks are tinted, blood flowing now that he's a few beers in.
You smile, teasing. “‘Bout an hour away,” In your best imitation of his accent. He tries not to smile.
“Troublemaker, huh?”
“Me? No, nah. Not me.” You look away, innocent.
“No?” He asks again, playing along, hand squeezing your thigh. His fingers pretend to scratch over your dress, but it's too soft and makes you aware of every point of contact between you two.
You glance down at it, but not long enough to let him know it's getting to you. Shake your head once, voice lower than intended. “Mm, nope. Not me.”
“Hm.” Chan's eyes narrow, playful but mindful. He knows what he wants his prize to be.
Another thirty minutes go by, your legs draped over his lap now. He closes the distance with a tentative hand hovering near your waist, still testing the waters. You share a laugh with him about something you both observed around you, the center of the party starting to fill out more than when you came in. The music is more lively, there's more people dancing, more people to mentally undress, more prospects to explore. But still, your entertainment is right next to you.
“In school, workin’?” Chan asks, babysitting a half drank cup of what the fuck ever. His eyes aren't glassy, not really. But you can see your reflection a bit more clearly in them than before.
“Both. Schedule’s full, but I manage to make time when I can.” You answer, hand playing with the ends of his hair absentmindedly. Twirling around your full set of French tips.
“Baby's busy. That's nice.”
“You?”
“Me? Just work, just me. Music stuff. Been at it for years.” He sips, finally.
“Oh yeah? Gonna write a song for me?” You joke, fingertips grazing the nape of his neck. He shifts his shoulders, your touch unexpected. Sits up a bit straighter.
“Gotta give me some inspiration.” He looks amused, considering. “Wanna be my muse?”
“For a check?”
“Pump the breaks.”
“Hm, I'll think about it, then.” You lift a brow and take his cup gently from his loose grip, take a sip for yourself. Chan watches you steal it from him with no objection, your lips curling around the rim and leaving a shimmery brown gloss stain as proof that it happened. He smirks, chuckles. He could get used to this.
“Okay then, princess.” The nickname was supposed to be an insult, but he says it like an affirmation. “She knows what she wants and just takes it, I see.”
“Nice guys finish last.” You wipe the corner of your lips and then hand him his cup back.
He looks down at it, then back at you, then down again. Brings it to his lips right over the glossy remnants and takes a sip, then another. Maintains that eye contact, just to fuck with you.
“Mhm, eyes on me.” You murmur, unfazed. Your voice scratches an itch for Chan, his gaze softens against his will. His plan backfired and now he has goosebumps.
The time becomes a blur. Your hair is down now, hair tie around your wrist and your watch in your clutch because it's heavy and impractical now that even your eyelids are weighted. Chan is your chair now, and his lap is warmer than the couch. His hands are more than certain by this point, resting on your waist with the same one from before still on your thigh.
You hear a song that reminds you that you came here with someone. “Shit, did I lose this bitch?” You mutter to yourself and look around. Every turn of your head is like smearing paint across a canvas, definitely looking at something but can't decipher what.
Chan scoffs, looks around with you. Then taps your waist and points ahead, “Nah, she's fine.”
You follow his finger in the direction of your friend and his friend, dancing like they might as well be fucking. Her arm is reached around his neck from behind, hips on hips. He's leaned into her ear, or her neck. It's hard to tell, but they're both smiling.
“She's not gonna remember this.” You laugh, but somewhere in your chest, you're happy for her.
“Hm. Neither will Hyunjin.” Chan laughs and watches the two with a tinge of surprise, but at the same time, it's Hyunjin. He likes having hands on him, even if he'll never admit it.
“A match made in heaven.” You shake your head, turning your attention back to Chan. You peek into his cup that's now become yours somehow, then into his eyes with a deceptively innocent grin. “There's no more.”
He smiles, thinks it's cute how you've adopted his cup as your own over the course of the night. His hand on your waist rubs along your side, a light touch. “Want me to fix that, don't you?”
“Would you?”
He pats your waist, signalling for you to stand. You shift off of him instead, occupying the spot you abandoned earlier, and he stands. He doesn't leave, just looks down at you expectantly.
You look back at him, head tilted and slowly blinking.
He smiles wider, offers his hand to you. “C'mon, baby.”
“You're comin’ back, aren't you?” You play as if you're challenging him, arms crossed over your chest.
“You think I’d leave my doll to sit on this couch alone? When she's already blinking like she's half asleep?” He leans down, calling out over the music. “C'mon, I'm not losing you. Not for a second.”
He offers his hand out again, a more serious and stern expression underneath the smirk. “Today, princess.”
You look him up and down, run your tongue over the front of your teeth trying not to smile. But you give in, of course you do. Your hand slides into his just like earlier, just a bit clammy now, but it's mutual so it's fine.
Chan pulls you up and into him, hand returning to your waist to steady you. He looks down at your heels, then back up to your eyes. “Atta girl.”
Before you can change your mind, he's guiding you through the crowded space and over to the kitchen, one hand on your lower back and the other one holding yours. On the way over, you pass your friend and lock eyes. You share a glance that reads, “You good? I'm good. Okay, cool.”
She found fine shit, you found fine shit. All is well, you have your phone and she has money for an Uber if things go left.
Chan makes a path through people, heading to the kitchen with you like he's a bodyguard. Glancing to the side to make sure you're still there despite him feeling your warmth under his hands.
“Here we are, let's see what's here.” He says, stopping at the kitchen counter. It's the only place that isn't surrounded by people, the only space where you two can breathe for a second. He lifts up different bottles and actually reads the labels.
You grab a new cup, or start to before he grabs your wrist loosely and moves you away.
“Just tell me what you want, baby.”
You pause and do a kegel.
“Oh, I'm fine. Was just trying to be helpful.” You retract your hand, fidgeting with your necklace instead. You didn't expect that.
“I got our cup right here. Just stay with me and take it easy.” He pours something into the cup. Brown, and not much of it. It must be strong.
“Yes, sir.” You watch him move with that glint shining and a grateful grin, eyeing him with admiration. Your ankles cross, thighs pressed together.
“Good girl.” It slips out before he can stop himself. He's been calling you pet names all night, but they're starting to hit different now that you're both warm and light as a feather.
You decide to find a quiet spot away from the center of the party, away from the thumping bass and bumping bodies. Chan suggests outside, but it's too chilly and you don't want to ruin the warmth of your buzz with the breeze. He hesitates, but ultimately suggests upstairs. He hasn't seen the second floor and neither have you. You decide to bring him on an adventure with you.
This time, you guide him on your path while he holds the cup, your fingers digging into his pulse point as you lead the way. He watches you, really watches you, and takes a small sip of your shared drink as you click up the stairs in front of him.
The second floor is breathtaking, still rustic but elegant with the dark wood and pops of creme, tan, and that neutral lighting that isn't too bright and isn't too dull. Just perfect.
“Left or right?” You ask, looking at the doors on either side of the hallway.
“Uh, left?” Chan replies as if there's a right answer.
“Bet.” You go into the last door down the hall on the left without hesitation. You gasp in awe, even the bedrooms are perfect. “This is so adorable!”
You let go of his hand, walking into the room like you own it. Chan notices your confidence, it's hard to miss. The door creaks a bit and he closes it behind him, leaning against the wall as you explore. “It is pretty nice here, huh?”
The music is still loud, but muffled through the wooden floors and insulation. More manageable.
You two chat here for a while, sitting on the edge of the bed together until the energy from downstairs follows you here. It's like magnets trying not to attract but failing miserably. Both a giggling mess, his jacket comes off and so do your heels, sat neatly at the foot of the bed. Chan insisted.
“Feel better without those heels?” He laughs, kneeling up on the bed.
“Would feel better if I took them off two hours ago.” You lay down next to him, dress ridden up but ignoring it. The fabric is starting to feel too tight, you want it off anyway.
“Baby girl's feet are sore, are they?” Chan scoots down, picking up one of your ankles. “I can help with that.”
“Can you now?” You giggle, propped up on your elbows to look down at him.
“Mhm. If you want.” His thumbs are already hovering over the sole of your foot. “That okay with you?”
“If it's okay with you.” Who are you to say no to a foot massage from a kind stranger?
“More than okay.” He takes your permission and nods, thumbs pressing into your aching feet with purpose. Working from the sides of your foot to the middle, down to the heel, then up to the ball of your foot.
You watch him work, how focused he is. There's a comfortable silence, but you don't know why it's comfortable. You try to dissect the moment.
“You gettin’ off on this?” It's playful, but you can't help but wonder.
He shakes his head, smiling as his thumb slides from the arch of your foot up between your toes. “Just wanna make you feel good, angel.”
You lie back on the pillows, the plush minky duvet cover is your own personal cloud. The lighting isn't too harsh, dimly lit and casting a romantic shadow across the room, across Chan's jawline.
“Is this your thing? Card tricks and foot massages?” You prod at the moment some more.
Chan chuckles, “Nah, it's not. Not really.” He shifts to position himself at the end of the bed between your feet, facing you fully. “Just for you.”
“Just for me?” You repeat, voice dropping into a teasing rumble that's just barely slurred.
“Just for my nine of hearts.” He sits your foot down and taps your other ankle, “Next foot, angel.”
You get a pang of something in your chest, excitement maybe. Your foot practically levitates into his hand. He chuckles again, softer. “Good girl.”
You swallow down and watch him, “Say that again.”
Chan glances up at you, his smile fading but not completely erased. His eyes search yours with a new depth to them. His prize is getting closer.
“Good girl.”
“Yeah?” Your restraint is slipping.
He licks his lips, nods slowly. “Mhm.” Then returns to his task with a huskier tone than before, his restraint clearly being tested, too. “So good for me.”
His hands work out knots and put pressure on all the right places, then he finishes with your feet and starts on your calves. He didn't mention going higher, but you don't stop him. Just watch him.
“Tense?” He asks.
“Loose.” You answer, only one beat between his words and yours.
“Good.” He moves up higher, fingers applying pressure up your legs and stopping at your thighs. He looks up at you, “This alright?”
“Go on.” It's impatient this time. He picks up on it immediately and grins.
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Good boy.”
His eyes widen a bit, but not in disapproval. He stretches the side of his neck, head tilted to one side and his eyes on you. His tongue darts out to moisten his lips again. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You double down.
He takes a deep breath, hands warm on your skin and working to relax your pillowy thighs. His exhale is rough with growing need.
“Say it again.” He whispers. He figures he'll cut his losses if you don't hear him. But you do.
“Hm,” You giggle to yourself, reaching a hand down and threading your fingers through his hair.
“Good boy.”
Chan blinks rapidly, clearing his senses to make room for you. Just you. He needs more of you.
“Good for you.” His hands trail up higher, bypassing your dress and pushing the fabric up as he explores your skin with barely contained hunger. “I'll be good for you.”
“Promise.” It's not a question, it's an order.
“I promise.” He's leaning down, eyes on yours as he does.
“Higher.” You say it just to see if he really does it.
Chan focuses on your body again, hiking the dress up higher over your hips and revealing your black thong. He can't help but admire you, his breathing more shallow with anticipation.
“This is okay with you, right?” He makes sure, checks in before he indulges fully.
You nod and hum, reaching down yourself and grazing your fingertips along the waist of your thong. “More than okay.”
He stops hesitating and takes your word, leaning down with one hand supporting him on the bed and the other holding your hip firmly. His lips press a kiss onto your stomach, right below your belly button, then another one under that. Peppering sweet, progressively sloppier kisses across your skin that makes you have to fight the urge to press your thighs together again.
“Tell me if you want me to stop.” He mumbles, eyes fluttering closed. His thumb circles soothingly over your hip, a gentle massage there too.
“Keep going.” You instruct gently, skin ignited wherever he lays his lips.
Chan gets a chill along his spine and listens, a barely audible moan following. He's free to indulge now, not shy about making you feel good. His hand on your hip slides down to your thigh, inching closer to your core.
The music downstairs isn't as upbeat now, but certainly isn't slow. It's a steady pulse of kicks and bass and compliments the moment like the stars compliment the moon. He kisses down, down, over the mound and closer to the gusset of your dampening thong.
You watch him, hand still in his hair and combing through as silent encouragement.
“Skin’s soft.” He mumbles again, hot breath ghosting over the dampness. “So pretty.”
“Havin’ fun?” You purr, provoking another moan from him.
Chan hums, kissing your lips through the fabric. His hand moves one leg aside, hooked under your knee and lifting it up over his shoulder. You follow through and rest your leg where he puts it, your relaxed heel now pressing into his back.
“Push ‘em to the side, love.” You encourage him more outwardly this time, watching him make out with your clothed core.
“Mhm, thank you, baby.” He's hungry, focused. His fingers hook around the only obstacle left, tugging the soaked gusset aside and revealing his prize. He opens his eyes for this, your pretty cunt glistening with excitement just for him. His fingers spread you open, pointer and middle and a wide V to see all of you.
“Fuck…” Chan's hips buck softly into the bed. His tongue tastes you with one slow, long stripe from your hole to your clit, and he watches your reaction closely to commit it to memory.
Your legs don't threaten to close, instead spreading wider with your knees up to give him room to work. “Wanna make me feel good?”
His lips wrap around your clit, humming his answer while his tongue circles the soft flesh with determination. He pulls back enough just to say, “I do.”
Chan is a man starved, his lips puckered and sucking with passion as if he's got something to prove. As if he wants you to be glad you spent all night with him and not someone else. As if to say thank you.
“Use your tongue. Licks, baby.” Both of your hands reach down to tangle in his hair now, hips grinding slowly into his face. He listens and flicks your clit with his tongue, spit pooling down to your hole clenched around nothing. You buck and gasp quietly, then exhale a moan like a sigh of relief and laugh beneath it all. “Perfect.”
He works steadily, building up the speed and intensity over time with his eyes closed again, savoring your taste. He hums moans to himself, his hips rolling into the mattress and partially satisfying his own excitement.
You reach over to the nightstand and grab the cup you're sharing with him, taking a sip and feeling the warmth spread through your chest again. That combined with his hands planted on your waist pulling you down into his mouth makes you breathe a bit heavier, moan a bit clearer.
Chan pulls back for a second, but not long before he rips a hand from your waist and spreads you open again. His thumb gently slides through your folds and gives him room to massage your clit with his tongue, licking and sucking faster just to see you shudder.
“Sh– hmm…” your face tenses with pleasure, a soft nod that you know he's looking up at and your eyes drift closed. “That's nice.”
He smiles around your clit, the same pointer and middle fingers sliding effortlessly as they press into you up to the rings. You give him the shudder he was looking for. “Fuck… that's really nice.”
The sound that gushes from you is lewd in every sense of the word. Wet and soft, a squelch that alludes to how much you want this. Chan hums a chuckle around your clit, pulls back just enough to speak. “This all for me?”
Your cheeks burn from alcohol and the smile you can't hide. “Shut up.” You whisper, flustered.
“Gladly.” He laughs and concedes, wanting to be good for you. He knows his affect by now, he doesn't need to remind you.
His fingers drive into you with a steady rhythm, opening you up more and more with each thrust. The flicks of his tongue match that rhythm with precision.
After a while, Chan closes his eyes too, enjoying this more than he imagined he would.
“Like that… that's my good boy.”
He hears you moan for him and doubles his efforts, your praise acting as fuel for him. His fingers dig into you and search for that special spot, knuckles curled and rubbing the ridges that make you gasp louder.
Your hips buck again, your back and shoulders tense and slightly arched. The ball of your foot digs into his spine, but it's nothing but his cue that he can't stop now. Not when your body is asking so nicely.
“Chan, yes– oh god, yes.” You moan and it's raspy for a moment, the sharp inhales of pleasure drying out your throat. Your hips move on their own and grind into his fingers and mouth, chasing your peak with him.
“Mhmm,” he hums around you, his fingers driving into you with a hard thrust and staying in deep while he rubs the inside of your pussy with maddening precision. His tongue lays flat licks over your clit, alternating between that and shamelessly loud slurps that make you accidentally clutch his hair in your fists.
You start to apologize, but Chan growls in response and grips your waist tighter with his free hand. The pain is good, means you're using him the way he likes.
“I'm gonna come if you keep that up, baby.” It's not a threat, it's a heads up. He doesn't let up, not even to respond this time. His breath hits you, out through his nose with moans of his vibrating around your clit. Your trembling legs tell him everything he needs to know.
“Please,” Chan murmurs, pulling his fingers out before stuffing you again, faster and deeper with urgency. “Come for your good boy.”
You tighten around him, the squelching obscene. His tongue flicks your clit, pushing you further off the edge each time until your walls clench and spasm around his fingers.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Your knees want to close, but his free hand pins your leg firmly before you can try and run. His tongue works you through your climax, helping you come down nice and slow as his fingers finally stop.
He pulls them out of you, pulls back to look at the mess he's made. “Tastes as good as it looks.” Chan's voice is husky and crude, deeper than when he started. He sits back, gently letting your leg down from his shoulder and kneeling between your legs. His fingers, still drenched in your arousal, slip between his lips, tongue sucking off the rest of you like he was saving your taste as a souvenir.
You're breathless and your hairline is damp, glad you put your hair down. Your hands fall to rest over the bunched up fabric in your midsection. “You're so good f’me, Chan.” You watch him climb up to you, hovering with arms caging you in.
“I can be even better, perfect for you. You want that?” He asks, hopeful. "Please?"
You nod, sticking your tongue out in a silent order that makes his cock jump in his jeans. His eyes are hooded with lust, tongue working to pool up the remnants of you before his tongue sticks out and drools it onto yours.
Both of you moan in unison, the calm before the storm. You taste yourself and smile, eyes twinkling in the golden lights. Chan's thumb reaches up and cleans up the corners of your lips, saliva threatening to spill.
“Mm mm,” He mutters, pushing it back into your mouth with a soft smile, “Don't run. All yours.”
Your lips wrap around his thumb and suck, head bobbing like it was something else. His cock twitches and his free hand reaches down to free it. “Such a pretty little thing, sucking me so nice. Love your tongue…” he watches, sits back on his knees and unzips his jeans, pushes them down desperately with one hand.
He finally manages to get them down enough to free his twitching length, instantly fisting and stroking with assistance from his leaking tip. He lets out a low, yearning sound, a cross between a moan and a whimper. Your tongue twirls around his thumb and if he closes his eyes, he can imagine it around his cock. Too vividly.
“Fuck, fuck.” He moans through gritted teeth. “Can I please be inside you, please, baby?”
You pull off of his thumb slowly with a soft pop, a thin trail of spit still connected before it breaks and you look at the longing in his eyes and his furrowed brow. “You want that?”
“It's the only thing I want.” He admits, breath thick with anticipation that's boiling over and becoming unbearable. “Please? I'll be good. So good and make you feel amazing. Please?”
“Promise?” It's gentler than before, but there's an undertone of something dark and dominant. Like if he's not, he'll be met with consequences. You slip your thong off, hips raised as it slides down your legs and gets kicked aside.
The hairs on the back of his neck rise, he nods damn near frantically. “I promise. I swear, princess. I fuckin' swear.”
You don't say anything, just reach a hand down and replace his with yours, stroking his cock with the same speed as he was. Your legs are spread again, knees higher and eyes commanding for him to hold them up.
Chan notices your intense gaze and blinks quickly, acting fast and hooking both hands behind your thighs to push your legs up higher. “Yes, baby.” He whispers as he obeys.
Your hips are tilted up and you're still clenching around nothing from your orgasm, but you glance down and line his cock up with your entrance before grabbing his hip and running your thumb over his skin to prompt him.
“Yeah?” He looks down at your face before gripping the back of your thighs and sliding in, the feeling of you stretching around him making him grip tighter. “Fucking hell, thank you, angel.”
He pushes in and your head falls back, balling handfuls of Fendi as he bottoms out. He twitches and you clench back, call and response.
“S’big.” You slur a moan as he reaches to press that spot he found before. Your hips tilt and adjust on their own, your body knows what it needs and how to get it. “Deep… fuck, you're deep.”
“I can go deeper.” Chan rasps, wanting to impress you. He knows how to get the most out of his length, anything for you. He pulls out about halfway, then pushes in carefully but certainly does get deeper. His grip on your thighs press your legs as high as they can comfortably go, and his hips press into you until it's nothing but skin on skin.
You feel his abs tense under your touch, but you don't see it because your eyes are shut tightly, mouth agape. Chan is watching you like it's his sole mission to make you fall apart on his cock, like nothing else has ever mattered. He's too gone off beers and brown liquor for anything else to matter, the buzzing of the bass downstairs adding to the blur of warmth crawling up his skin.
“I can do it. I can make this pussy mine.” He whispers, pulling back and setting an easy pace to start with. The sound of your wetness around him isn't lost on you, in fact it's one of the only sounds you hone in on. Unlike Chan, you couldn't give two shits about the muffled snares and hi hats, you're focused on the imprint his cock is making in your stomach. Or at least that's what it feels like.
“Faster, Chan.” You command it, voice unwavering and eyes reopened, peering down at where you're connected. Your fistfuls of his shirt pull him in, motivation.
He growls and obeys, faster but not wild. He composes himself because he knows better. “Like this, love?”
“Faster.” You repeat, jaw tight. You're watching him thrust into you, monitoring like it's a job.
“Faster?” He asks, knowing he'll have to keep himself in line. That'll be hard when he knows he'll want to come so badly.
Your gaze meets his, sharp and impatient. “What did I say?”
“Fuck,” he whispers to himself, then bites the corner of his lip and speeds up. The bed creaks a bit and the springs of the mattress sing in tune with the muffled music, but again, motivation.
“Like this?”
“Harder.”
“Fuck,” he grits, thrusting up with more force. You obviously want him to struggle, want to see him try and hold back just for you.
You see his efforts to restrain himself, to let you feel good first and lend his cock to you with selfless thrusts that reach places you can't. It makes you tighten with satisfaction.
You smile, laughing between moans, “There he is, so good for me. You can do it, baby.”
Your praise is like a drug at this point, each hit only adds more fuel to the fire. He grunts and presses your knees back higher, hands holding you firmly in place with hips drilling into you incessantly. Skin slapping, breaths clashing.
Chan buries himself in again with a snap of his hips and groans, head lowered as he grinds up into you. You grip his shirt tighter, if that was even possible, neck and face flushed in a deep drunken blush. He evokes a sound out of you that makes you bite your lip to hide it.
“Goddamn,” he moans, panting and thrusting shallow to reach as deeply as he can. He isn't too loud, just enough for you to hear. “You're makin’ it hard f’me… this pussy’s makin' it hard f’me.”
“Don't stop. Not until I tell you to.” You give him a clear request and it almost sounds sweet, but that underlying commanding tone rears its head again. “You hear me?”
Chan grunts with each breath, the vein protruding from the side of his neck and the ones down his forearms giving way to how hard he's trying not to come. “Easy on me.”
“Don’t wanna be my good boy anymore?” You threaten to rip the rug of praise right from under him and he whimpers. Breathy and needy, he whimpers.
“Fuck, no, don't say that–”
“Don't stop until I tell you to, baby. Trust me.” Your hands reach up to hold his neck, pulling his face closer. Your noses brush and your eyes lock.
“Can you do that?”
Chan swallows down any further protest and nods, forehead damp against yours.
“Yes, yes I can…”
He proves it when he picks up the pace, thrusting into you with devotion and determination to get all the praise he can fuck out of you. He growls through moans ripping from his throat, muttering a string of curse words that make his furrow tense up with pleasure.
You pull him closer and press your lips to his, a stark contrast to his increasingly erratic thrusts. His lips are warm and you taste remnants of yourself and whatever he was drinking earlier. Your tongue slips against his, moans crashing into each other freely while his fingers dig into your skin with a bruising grip.
There's a slight bulge in the pit of your stomach that shows exactly just how far he's reaching, but you're both too busy muffling moans and tasting each other to notice. You can feel yourself floating up into that familiar feeling, your next release right around the corner. The moans that pour out of your mouth into his are climbing in pitch.
“Chan,” you murmur against his mouth, tearing a hand from his neck to reach between you two and frantically flick your clit, chasing once again. “Don't stop, don't you fucking stop.”
“I got you, I got you.” His deep rumbling grunts reassure you, pace steady and headboard knocking against the pretty dark wood walls. “Give it to me, let me see it.”
You tighten around him more deliberately now, clit throbbing under your fingers. You're panting until a single rough breath staggers in your throat, a moan you couldn't muffle quickly enough erupting from your chest. You look up at him, eyes glazed over as you flood around his cock. “Don't stop.”
“I'm close.” Chan watches you come undone and can't hold back much longer. Your hand wraps around his throat, squeezing the sides. A warning.
“Don't.” You demand, eyes locked with his again. His are wide, skin hot with desire. He shakes his head, panting heavily. “Baby, please. Please, please let me– shit, let me come. Please, I'll do anything. Please.”
He's whimpering and grunting, cock twitching with restraint. Once you're done riding out the highs of your orgasm, you squeeze his neck tighter. “Pull out.”
“Fuck, wait, wait–”
“I got you.” You tell him before he starts begging again. “Trust me.”
“Mmm, fuck… fuck, okay,” Chan pulls out and reveals his cock, stiff and dripping, covered with you. You reach down between the two of you, using the hand around his neck to push him back a bit.
“Legs down.” You instruct him to let you go, knees lowering back to the bed as he listens and lets you jerk him off. He stays right where he is, sitting back on his knees with his head thrown back.
“Mm, princess,” he moans, covering his mouth with his hand. You reach up and grab his wrist, eyes soft for him. “Let me hear it.” You insist.
“Can't hold back,” he stutters, letting his wrist fall slack in your grip until you let it go, steadying yourself with a hand on his hip. “Can I? Can I, baby?”
“Can you what?” You ask, deceptively calm.
“Can I be…” Chan pauses to hold it in, groaning with struggle. “Be good for you?”
“Only if you say it.” You grin, stroking him faster. “Say you're my good boy.”
“Shit, shit… Mm, I'm your good boy, princess.” He grins too, gripping the soft bedding beneath him. “I'm your good fuckin' boy.”
“Come for me.”
His eyes shut tightly at the command he's been waiting for, hips bucking forward with a broken moan as he spills over your fist. “Thank you, thank you, fuck, so much…”
He's coming hard, sticky and warm over your knuckles. His chest is tight with pleasure, but it starts to burn when he's weak and twitching and you're still stroking him, pace unchanging.
“Fuck, wait.” Chan's eyes open again, the pleasure crawling up his spine and mingling with the chills spiking over his skin. “Wait, wait, wait.”
“Say it again,” you smile, watching the realization set in for him that you're not done yet. “Say thank you for letting you come.”
He seethes a quick breath through gritted teeth, growling and reaching a hand up to hold on to his hair. “Baby, please–”
“Say it, Chan.”
He can't deny that he likes being used, even like this. Anything to be your good boy. He whimpers again, a slutty sound that's so adorably desperate. “Mm, I'm… thank you, princess. Thank you for letting your good boy come. Feels good, so good. So, so good.”
“Finished now?” You coo, watching his face turn bright red.
“Yes, baby. I'm done.” He's polite despite the overwhelming pleasure, eyes glossed over with proof of his control.
Once you start to slow down, he lets out a breath he's been holding and starts relaxing fully, shoulders slumped and shaky elbows barely holding him up. He leans forward and one buckles, nearly falling into the bed before you press your palms to his shoulders and keep him upright.
“Easy,” you rub his shoulders with a softer touch, coaxing him to calm down and lie back on the bed, pulling him down with you. “C'mere. Breathe.”
Chan follows you, kicking his jeans off completely and getting more comfortable with you. His shirt is wrinkled and so is your dress, bunched up right beneath your bust. He ignores it entirely, resting between your legs with his head on your chest. He's still moaning, still feels your fist pumping him with unrelenting speed. It's etched into his brain now.
You wipe the cum he spilled onto your hand over your tongue, curious. “Mm, my good boy tastes… sweet?” You sound pleasantly surprised.
“Thank you.” He breathes more evenly, still focused on remembering how to. The compliment doesn't fully register, but he knows to say thank you.
“Love?” You say, wiping the rest on the bedding that you'll probably never see again after tonight.
Chan looks up at you, using your chest as a pillow. He's dripping sweat and thoroughly flushed, less bright but still very red. “Hm, yes, angel?”
“Doin’ okay?” You're soft again, sweet and gentle.
He nods, “I'm good, yeah. Catchin’ my breath.”
“Take your time.” The palm of your hand rubs his back, the other one brushing his hair back. The silvery blonde strands are detangled between your fingers, smoothed out and more manageable after all the pulling.
Chan is grateful for the gentle ministrations, helps him calm down from that very steep high. You both take a moment to just be, inviting the sounds of the party downstairs back into your awareness. Distant chatter and persistent bass fill your senses and remind you that you just met Chan tonight for the first time. It doesn't feel like it to you, not after all of that.
His breathing evens out nicely after a few minutes and his hands pull you closer, “You okay?”
You smile, brushing his hair out of his face, “I'm okay.”
“Need anything? Blanket or somethin’?”
“Not right now.” You glance over at the cup on the nightstand and decide to pass. You need water.
“Alright… I got you.” He taps your waist.
“Mhm. Take it easy.” You pat his back, then pause. “Think there's a bathroom nearby?”
“I really fuckin' hope so.”
You giggle, warm in your chest for a different reason now. “We'll find one. Gotta be somewhere close.”
Chan nods, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. You press one to the top of his head.
“Good boy, Channie.” You whisper, scratching the top of his head.
He smiles wide, eyes crinkled at the corners like he just finished performing the perfect trick. “Thank you, princess.”
Business, Photography and Muscles - SKZ FRATHOUSE part 1, part 2
pairing: fratboy!jeongin x reader(f) x fratboy!seungmin
genre: college au, smut, eventual romance (crazy)
special event w my girl @enchantedlov3r2 <3
sypnosis: having had a single boyfriend throughout the span of your life, and that experience ending absolutely disastrously - you decided to take on the easiest approach - to hide underneath a social mask, and to avoid hot guys. especially the second solution. but what happens when you happen to get paired up with not one, but two members of the skz frathouse for a project? will you make it out? will you be able to survive when the rest starts to slowly register themselves in your everyday one by one, till the option of choosing isn't yours anymore.
word count: 17.8k
warnings: SMUT. dom!seungmin, dom!jeongin, sub!reader, perverse thoughts, jealousy issues, possessiveness, reader is embarrassing and a loser (in a nice way i suppose), lots of internal monologue, frat boys, teasing, they are MEAN, kind of bullying, nerdy interests, unprotected sex(wrap it up), lots of making out, dry humping, oral (both f and m rec), threesome, drool, porn with plot, p in v, dacryphilia, rough sex, loss of virginity, some objectification, fingering, overstimulation, squirting, rivalry, prob more that i missed
didnt proofread more than once
Ever since you started college, you’ve had one wish. One.
At every thanksgiving, every blow of candles, and every time the clock ticked 11 11. You would ask one single thing.
And that is for an improvement towards your sex life. Actually. To have one to begin with.
Having no experiences with guys, except once. Tragic. Extremely tragic one-time experience back in your senior year of high-school. Where you had this guy in your bedroom, kissing. It was hot, the way his lips brushed against yours was mouth watering. His tongue danced alongside yours, hands on your hips, fingers swiping underneath your shirt. Your back pressed against the desk when you accidentally bumped into your book collections. You hadn’t noticed at that time, frenzied by the heat of the moment, but he did. His body suddenly still, resembling a statue.
Mortified. You or him? Him because he found your disgusting stack of porn magazines scattered all over the floor. Or you because he found YOUR disgusting stack of porn magazines scattered all over the floor. Each sheet challenged the last in terms of vulgarity.
He had told you something that day, you can’t recollect what exactly. But you do remember the aftermath. And how ruined the rest of your year went, walking around with the title of ‘Femcel’ tagged to your back.
Now that you look back at it, it shouldn’t have been that controversial for a woman to be into this sort of content. But time has changed. And so did you.
Well, not really — but at least you're a player at hiding it. Now keeping your materials under your bed, drawers and closet. At first sight, your bedroom is the epitome of normalcy unless one digs in a shove deeper. Your book collections are filled with literacy media, and the art of photography. A mask, just like the one you put up at social interactions when you’re truly raging inside.
Nobody can know about the refuge you seek in your collections, touches, and laptop. Your beloved laptop — the one that holds many of your dirty secrets, and that you consult as soon as you return from a hard, hard day.
You can’t fumble this. College is a fresh start. Deciding to stick to your personal daily routine, within the blanket of your fantasies and delusions as soon as the sun sets, snuggly shielded from the outside world.
You’re almost proud of yourself for keeping up the act for almost a year now, and even having made some friends on campus. However, still no man. That’s your sole remorse, but perhaps it's for the better. Being around attractive guys gets you… strange. You’d rather not repeat the accident from years ago and increase the risk of being seen as a creep again.
—
Life is mocking you. It's got to be. You’re sure it’s laughing and pointing at you right now as you slam your fists on your professor’s counter.
“Ma’am, I can’t!” You protest, a bead of sweat rolling down your neck from how much you’ve been begging her for the last ten minutes.
She groans, tapping her heels against the tiles, rolling her chair in annoyance. “It’s just a project, miss. You've always aced them before. Why not now?”
“I can! I will.” You contradict yourself—but you have a valid reason! “Please let me change partners. I’m on my knees,” you whine, holding your hands together in a plea.
“For the last time. I can not do that. Your names have already been put together,” she replies, eyes serious and exhausted. Sinking back into her seat with a harsh intake of air.
“Pleeease,” you sob. Praying to whoever that is above, if there is someone, to hear your prayers, and to shake the mind of the middle aged woman before you. The middle-aged woman who is in absolute disbelief as we speak.
“Enough! This is worth your finals. Continue and I'll deduce your overall marks,” she snaps, rubbing her temples from an incoming headache. “You’re such a good student. What’s with you today?”
You press your lips together, arms falling to your sides in deflation. “Sorry. I understand...” It comes out as weak, defeated.
Wobbling your way back to your class, picturing yourself in an empty street—kicking imaginary pebbles and scrubbing in your misery.
How can you tell her that you absolutely cannot be paired with the Kim Seungmin from the baseball team, and the Yang Jeongin from the football team, because of how you act and how you think? And how you’re afraid of scaring them away and tarnishing your last bits of social reputation — since they belong to what you've been entirely avoiding ever since you stepped here.
The top hierarchy of the school.
A frathouse. Not just any, Stray Kids’ frathouse, the eight best athletes of the school. Being a weirdo to them, ruining your reputation, means being a weirdo to everyone who sets foot on this campus.
You're doomed.
You swear that you aren’t partaking in that. That you'll find a solution, anyhow, and get out of this situation. You swear—
Unfortunately, here you are: sitting across from Kim Seungmin.
Jeongin hasn’t arrived yet, having to meet his coach beforehand, to which you are thankful towards for giving you prepping time.
The silence is deafening, awkward. Your sweaty palms flat on the wooden surface, trying your best not to constantly shuffle on the cushions of your seat, since the sound is embarrassing enough.
“So,” Seungmin breaks the silence, pen in hand.
His fingers absently click the edge, the noise loud in your head as you try not to stare at the length of them—how he uses his thumb to randomly flicker cap in a gentle rub.
“Yn?” he calls, snatching you from your intruding thoughts.
Your gaze snaps to his, breath catching unnecessarily. “Yes–?” You stammer, hoping that he didn’t catch on you gawking at his hands.
“You’re from Photography, right?” He asks, looking right at you.
If his aim is to make you even more nervous. It is working.
“Yes! How did you know?” You nod hastily, forcing a smile, voice raising a tad too much.
He blinks, brows furrowing. You can almost smell the embarrassment you’re about to face judging from his reaction alone.
“It’s written right here…” He points to the paper before you, underlining ‘Ln Yn: Photography Major’ with the tip of his pen.
You suck in your lips, smile lopsided. Cringing. “Right. Thought so,” you crisp out. If it was so obvious, then why ask?!
“Anyway,” he mumbles, taking a breath. “The project. Do you have any ideas?”
“Right now? I thought we were supposed to wait for Jeongin,” you ask, confused from the sudden change of plans.
He glances over your shoulder, across the room, nudging his head forward. “He’s here.”
You face backwards to find Jeongin strolling forward, drink in hand.
The drink is cold, water droplets drip down his fingers. His grip on the cup is soft yet firm, the cup crumpling slightly under his hold. Weirdly attractive… No. Snap out of it, yn!
“Hey, what’s up?” he greets Seungmin first, shaking his hand with the free one. “Sorry, coach held me back,” he quickly apologizes, setting his belongings by the table before plopping down on the bench next to Seungmin.
Seungmin eyes him, raising a brow. “Looks more like that drink held you back,” he states, leaning heavy against the backrest, making himself comfortable. “Ain’t no way you lined up for that again.”
Jeongin scoffs, wiping the bangs sticking before his eyes. “Does it matter? I’m here now,” he replies, a tug of a grin forming when he finally notices your presence. “Oh. You are?” he asks, staring as if he was trying to decipher if he had ever seen you on campus before.
You’re about to reply when Seungmin cuts you, shallow annoyance grazing his tone. His tongue clicks. “I told you about her. She's the girl from photography,” he adds, hand aimlessly pointing at you.
It doesn’t seem to light any bulb inside his head, completely unaware of who you are. Now this is insulting. You’re a little hurt.
It’s okay… it must be because you kept it low at all costs. Avoiding guys like them. Not because of them, but you.
Their presences are a gateway towards cringe and awful interactions.
“Photography… I didn’t know that you preferred artistic girls. Your last girlfriend was pretty uncreative.” He says with an understanding nod, his smile never dropping.
You almost choke on your saliva. Your closed fist meets your lips, having to silently cough it out. The thought of you dating Kim Seungmin. He’s joking, it’s unreal. But tempting.
Your imagination betrays you, again.
You wonder if he would wait for you after your classes. Or if he would ask you to come see him after his baseball practice, all drenched in sweat from playing, asking you to hold his cap. His ungloved hand running through his wet hair as you stare in awe.
“You good, baby?” he’d ask you, waving his glove before you.
Calling you back to Earth.
A harsh sound. A snap of fingers, maybe.
“Hey— you good?”
You jolt up. Brought back from reverie with their stares glued to your figure. Skepticism to mild concern etching their expressions.
“All good— No worries…” you blurt out, clearing your throat to find your voice.
Jeongin hums, though he doesn’t seem to buy it. “I’m Jeongin. Yang Jeongin,” he introduces.
You give him a sound of acknowledgement, as if the entire campus doesn’t already know his name from being the goal keeper of the school. Being one of the most valuable members of the club, the youngest and the fairest. He’s known for attracting most of the fans and supporters, everybody rooting for his cheeky smile and cute dimples. And undeniably, the golden boy of the frathouse, introducing himself is stupid. But he's polite, you give him that.
“Back to the topic. How do we correlate our different majors?” Seungmin asks, looking at Jeongin then you, “Sports Science, Photography and… Business.”
“The project's main idea is teamwork, right? Hmm,” Jeongin ponders, leaning forward onto the table. “Not clicking,” he mutters, resting his face on his palm, the other bringing his drink back to his lips. His plump lips, rosy and hydrated, seals the straw— sucking in the liquid. His Adam apple bobs with each swallow, some of the liquid catching at the corners of his lips.
You slip your hands under the table, fist bunching the fabric of your pants as they discuss the topic between themselves. Not bothering to ask you. You need to knock it out. And think. Properly this time.
Your focus drifts on the papers before you, the subject of the project. How does teamwork connect to you? To them. The careers they’ve been building. Your interests. Your interests?
Bingo!
“Uhm. I have an idea,” you interrupt, raising your hand from under. Nervous with how their chatter dies out, their full focus drawn to you. “You guys know how companies create merch for their athletes and teams. To promote them and stuff. They take pictures of them, and then bring them to the market to create cards for people to collect.”
They nod tentatively, intrigued by your statement. You squirm, not used to this. But you go on. “And sometimes, they have the coaches give statements about training and how the team cooperates to put on the magazines. I think...” your gaze shifts to Jeongin, lost in what you’re saying, “they teach that in Sports Science, coaching?”
He nods.
“So, what do you want to do with that?” Seungmin asks, noting down your ideas.
“I was thinking. Maybe we could create a magazine featuring the school’s athletic teams. If you’re okay with that,” you reply, hopeful.
They simultaneously smile, letting out an impressed ‘woah’.
“That’s actually a pretty solid idea,” Seungmin admits.
“That's cool,” Jeongin agrees, “You’re into sports? You don’t strike me as the type.” That last comment would have been snarky if it wasn’t situational. Choosing to ignore it.
“Ahh, not exactly.” you reply, coy. Who knew all these years of collecting players’ photocards would benefit you like this? How you used to fight day and night to get enough money to complete your sets.
You can’t help the tiny grin that curls your lips at their compliments, trying not to be too smug about this accomplishment. A small step is enormous for an ant. Progress is progress.
The rest of the session blinks by, the atmosphere easing up as you dive into the work. Soon, the cafeteria is less crowded, the students leaving one after another.
A vibration breaks your flow, attention shifting to where it originates.
“Oh, it's Chan. Said he is back to the dorms,” Jeongin says, phone in hand. Not giving any of you the chance to interfere, “I have to go,” he adds, already packing his belongings. He stands up, pulling his bag strap over his shoulder. “See you guys around?”
He's gone. Here you are alone with Seungmin again.
You glance around to find only a few students left, roaming the surroundings. Damn. How much time went by?
“You should go too. It's getting late,” Seungmin mentions, bringing the scattered documents from the hard surface together.
“Yeah, I'll get going then,” you reply, heaving from your seat, ready to turn on your heels in the opposite direction when he halts you.
“Wait, not so fast,” he sighs, standing up. “Give me your phone.”
You freeze. “What?” Why?! Does he know what's in it… is it obvious you're that type of person?
He squints at your bewildered expression, “To put my number in.”
To put my number in.
Oh. oh.
Those words will be engraved into your memory, forever. No matter the context, it doesn't matter when Kim Seungmin just asked for your number.
“Why do you keep zoning out? Do you have issues?” He grimaces at your slow blinking, as if you're entranced in some la-la-land.
“Your number? I couldn't possibly… I mean— I totally would but!” You reply with a laugh, waving your hand shyly to hide your abashed expression, rubbing the tip of your shoe nervously against the floor.
He scoffs, feeling the frustration bubbles behind his eyelids, hoping to dissipate it with a rub. Unbelievably unprofessional. “I need it to text you. To know when you're free for the next meet up. To create a group chat. Not to ask you out,” he inhales, letting out a big exhale. Gigantic even.
But not as gigantic as the hole you wish you to dig yourself into. Your head falls, closing your eyes momentarily. Out of sight, out of mind.
“Can I have it now?” He asks, his patience running thin.
Shamefully, you reach for your pocket, opening the contact app before handing it to him. He dials himself, the ringtone rings against your eardrums, shattering them. At least, it feels that way.
You avoided peeking at him all the way out, head hanging low. It was going so well.
You pray to wipe this whole interaction from your brain, to crash into a bus and suffer from amnesia. Taking back the oath of engraving into your memory forever. Should've known better than to think that, because this interaction will keep you up at night. For at least a few years if not forever.
You groan; slapping the heels of your palms against your forehead repetitively. “So embarrassing,” whining, in disbelief of what you had said back then. Shuffling with your cards to find the one for your dorm. The door clicks open and you're met with the sight of your roommate.
“You're back. I was just about to message you,” she exhales in relief, “I'm staying over at my boyfriend's tonight. Don't go anywhere and watch over the dorm.” Grabbing her shoes, putting them on. “Oh, and yn— feed my dog for me? You know where her food is,” she points to the top shelf in the kitchen before walking out of the door in a hurry, “thank you!”
She's gone. Her voice echoes down the hallway. Her audacity vibrates louder, booming.
You click your tongue, throwing your bag on the couch. Kicking the footing, only to hurt yourself in the process. This day can't get lamer. “What did I even do to deserve this sort of bad karma,” you sigh, rubbing off the sweat beads across your face.
You look down when you feel something lick at your ankle, Cassie, her dog. You're stuck in a loop where she goes out, tells you to watch over the dorm and her dog while she's busy getting laid. That one time when you hoped to object, she had told you “You never go out anyway. You're literally glued to your room.”
You hate that she's right.
“Stupid dog, stupid project, stupid boys,” you mumble in your misery just as your phone buzzes. You jump a millimeter. Startled.
A group chat has been made.
Seungmin:
hey
i put the notes we made earlier on my laptop, sending it rn
Unknown number:
so fast. are you that excited about the project??
Seungmin:
unlike you, i care about my grades
You assume the other number is Jeongin, fingers pressing onto the ‘save contact’ option. Then deciding otherwise, not yet, it'd seem desperate.
Jeongin:
yn, you here?
Seungmin:
she's probably spaced out as we speak
Jeongin:
i theorise she's ai
notice how she mostly talked when it was about studying
You gag, stifling out a laugh. What??
Seungmin:
yeah right
at least she's got brain and contributed
something you can't relate to…
You lick the dry skin peeling at your lips, swallowing empty saliva. Thumb hovering across the screen.
You:
i’m not ai
Jeongin:
woah you're actually here
only ai answers when prompted btw
You pause in wonder regarding which approach to take in this situation. Something sweet, or perhaps mysterious?
“Hard no,” you mumble, shaking off the idea.
You spend the next few minutes mulling over how to reply. Overthinking it, staring at the last message as you plop down on your bed. Laying down on the sheets, holding a pillow comfortably on your stomach. Except that nothing is comfortable.
A ping knocks you out.
Seungmin:
there she goes again
i'm the business major student here but she’s the one taking business days to reply
we can see you reading those texts, you know that right?
You wince, fingers tapping against your screen for the simplest answer in the notebook.
You:
sorry
Seungmin:
whatever
Whatever.
when are you guys free?
Jeongin:
uhh
tomorrow? after practice tho
Seungmin:
me too
preferably after 6 p.m
what about yn?
You:
i have club activities after class
6 p.m works for me, might be a little late
Jeongin:
ok and where do we meet?
the cafeteria closes early on fridays
Seungmin:
felix will have people in tomorrow for his own project. he put props on the dorm first
Jeongin:
just asked chan hyung
he's out tomorrow, come to mine
Seungmin:
okay okay
Your heart rushes at the thought of spending the evening at Jeongin’s place, never having been to a boy's room before. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping to calm your giddiness. This is nothing to get excited about.
Right…
You:
can someone send the room number
Jeongin:
i'll do it, wait
You roll onto your back, phone tight in your shaking fingertips. Watching the dots appear as Jeongin types in his dorm allocation.
Jeongin:
room 208
see u guys there
—
It’s 6:58 p.m.
Now 6:59 p.m and you’re standing outside of the dorm with 208 plastered on top. It’s the right one, you’re sure of it. Most of them frat dudes reside around those spaces, anyone could get out of their room and find you awkwardly staring at the grayish surface, knuckles itching to knock already.
You can't help the thought that this is a joke, and that they gave you the wrong dorm number despite every link proving otherwise.
You’re on the verge walking back to your place, fingers squeezing the strap of your bag when a hand reaches past you, swiping a student card in. The door clicking open. Jumping out of your skin as something broad and warm meets your back, getting caged by a body and the door. You wonder which side the door is, with how hard his chest is to your back.
Jeongin.
He surges forward, muscles grazing against you. His hair prickles at the skin of your nape. Cursing when he collides with you softly. Too close, way too close.
Your breath is stolen, in a torturous method as your lungs refuse to get back to work.
“You gon’ get in or not?” he asks your statue-like figure. He sounds oblivious to the proximity, tone shifting to mild irritation when you take too long to budge.
Urging you inside, rough hands instinctively wrap themselves around your shoulders to move you inside. “There you go,” he praises, the tone quiet enough to jolt your stomach. He takes you to the couch, sitting in the common room. “Make yourself at home.” he smiles, dimples flashing. He accommodates you so casually, you ponder how casual it is for people like him to bring others over.
You try to ease up as he visits the kitchen to fetch you something to drink, sinking deeply into the couch. Finally catching a breather. Well. You thought.
A door swings open, revealing a not-so-subtle semi-naked Chris.
Chris. Fucking Christopher Bahng Chan — basically the leader of their cult — house, emerges from his room, struggling to tug his shirt down in a rush. His pants hang low, v line flexing with each stride. Abs on full display.
Mouth foaming. Pupils fixing anywhere but his direction, clearly failing at doing so cause you make eye contact with his body first, then him.
He gets the shirt on at last, grabbing a bag off the couch when he notices you. Eyes you. His gaze drifts to Jeongin coming back from the kitchen with cans of soda, shooting him a knowing grin. Jeongin replies with a tsk, “She's here for the project, hyung. I told you about it.”
Chris shrugs, feigning innocence. “I didn't open my mouth.” His shirt is still slightly ruffled, showing a hint of milky skin. Your mouth runs dry. “But you, you did tell me only Seungmin was up for the project.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Jeongin scoffs, handing you one of the cans. Though, his attention is on the older man as he drops on the couch carelessly, his legs spreading wide. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Why are you still loitering around?” Jeongin comments, his lip curling back at Chris.
You focus on the coldness of the can in your palm, and not on how your thighs are pressed tightly from trying to keep a distance from Jeongin’s. The temperature of his body seeps through the fabric of his pants, steaming on the exposed skin of your thighs, the fabric of your shorts had hiked up as you sat down earlier — questioning your choice of outfit for today. It’s hot. That’s why. Extremely hot, actually.
Chris’ grin never falters, humming in response. “You're right. I just happened to have noticed how flustered she seems. Thought I'd let you know,” he teases before swiftly escaping through the main entrance. Setting you up for your downfall with each syllable that left his mouth.
Jeongin shifts towards you, arms draped on the couch's backrest. Behind you. Holy shit. You hold your bag closer to your stomach. Almost hugging it. “Uncomfortable?” he asks, studying your face.
You shake your head in denial, giving him a tight — and unfortunately, very uncomfortable smile. He sighs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs, still facing you. “Wanna go to my room? There’s air conditioning there.”
Your expression contorts to subtle confusion, hesitant.
“I mean,” his eyes involuntarily skim across your attire briefly before snapping back at you. Your tank top hugs your form, thighs spilling out of your shorts, leaving little to imagination. “You must be feeling hot, right?”
Swallowing, your fingers twitch on the can, the condensation drizzling on your skin — much like the beads of sweat breaking on your back. “Uhm, I'm not sure—”
“You aren't?” he asks, cocking his head in a way that speaks he isn't buying it. Slit eyes observe you, as if he was taking in your appearance for the first time. His arm raises, tilting towards you, and you nearly flinch back. “Relax,” he whispers, the back of his hand making contact with your forehead. If you weren't breathing heavily before, you are now. Gulping excessively, the saliva runs dry fast enough to break world records. Create new records, whatever. You're sure that if he leans a blink closer, he'd hear your thumping heartbeat. He must be, because his attention lands on your heaving chest for a second. A period of a smile catching at his lips as he finally leans back down when the front door bursts open. Casual, just like that. Pretending that he wasn't gawking at your flushed state.
“Ever cared to knock?” Jeongin voices, loud in an attempt to seem annoyed at whoever is approaching.
“Didn't care yesterday, definitely won't today,” Seungmin replies, throwing his bag and himself on the opposite couch. “I'm dead,” there's a rasp in his tone, catching his first breath today. Lips parted, much inviting as he faces the both of you. His eyes travel to your flushed expression, your own focus on the label of the soda can, avoiding his gaze — much worse than the day before — then to Jeongin's act at appearing oblivious, pointless to someone who has known him for years. “What'd you do?”
“Nothing worth mentioning,” Jeongin sighs, and Seungmin curls a brow, leaning forward in your direction. Facing you.
“Is he messing with you, instead of focusing on the project?” his tone doesn't sound much reprimanding, if you had to be honest.
You shake your head, muttering out a quick no. He hums. “Sure seems that way.”
“He wasn't—” you let out, though you're well aware that he was. All three of you are well aware of that, the quiet tch of disbelief Seungmin lets out doesn't escape you either.
Jeongin sighs, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “Hyung, it's too hot, yeah? Let's just go to my room.”
—
You’re inside a guy’s room.
You.
Inside.
A guy’s room.
Ahem. Yang Jeongin’s room to be clear.
Maybe those prayers did work, your endless begs for mercy getting paid off at last, or maybe it's the opposite.
It's hard to decipher hell from heaven in this context. He had said to come here because it was hot, but somehow, your skin flushes with heat despite the rumbling A.C. Eyes following and noticing every corner and spots of his room, from the posters to his unusual collection of shoes.
Okay, yeah. Didn’t picture him as a shoe enthusiast.
Sitting on the floor, you come to peek at his slightly ajar drawer, a thread of clothes inching out. The entire area smells like him — not like you were registering his scent, but his cologne is quite recognisable. A faint scent of boys and something floral. Sweet. Intoxicating. You sit a bit tighter, urging the unease out of your nerves.
Something nudges you, a pen. Flicking at your skull as if touching you would infect them with your disease — at least, in your perspective. You’re met with curious eyes, a dot of a grimace engraving Seungmin’s expression, but there’s also a hyphen of concern. “Focus,” he scolds you, as if he knew your thoughts inside-out. You wince internally. “Brought your camera?”
Nodding, you dart around to find where you had put it. “Yeah, it’s—uhm.”
You blink harshly, your soul nearly flying out when he closes some distance. His arm reaches behind you, prisoning you between his body and the edge of the bed. For a second— a second, you swear he looks at you, his gaze holding your widened ones before he gets hold of your camera on the mattress. A ghost of his breath fanning on your skin as he hands the camera before you. “Here,” he asserts, offering. You pick it up with a trembling hand, trying to tighten the muscles the best you can. To stop the tremor but it escapes none.
Though, they don’t mention it. You’re thankful for that.
Somehow, the rest of the conversation blurs with ideas. You had made a plan for the magazine, showing them the pictures you snapped, the sceneries, the flowers, everything usual and expected. They’re impressed, having shifted closer before you can realize so. To the extent of trapping you on both sides, trying not to think much about it as they lean down to take a better look at the screen.
You should’ve brought your laptop. Who told you to show them on such a small device?
“Hmm, noona you're talented,” Jeongin says, not giving you much time to react to the sudden honorifics, except for a fumbling heartbeat before Seungmin interjects.
“But,” Seungmin interjects, his index swiping on the digital screen, “have you ever taken pictures of people?” his voice ghosts on your skin, hot and heavy next to your ear.
“I—” memory hits you. Snapping people? No, not really. However, you did collect and analyse enough magazines to be confident about your skills. Though… “No.”
He hums in response, staring over your shoulder to Jeongin. Their eyes meet, a careful exchange that escapes your attention lingers. “Say,” the younger interrupts, “Do you want to try with us?”
Do you want to try?
With us.
“Try what?” there’s a hitch in your throat. Awfully aware that you’re being delusional—again. But they’re standing so close, it’s hard not to get the wrong idea. “To take pictures?”
“Of us,” he says, his breath merging with yours.
“I don’t know— I haven’t taken anyone’s picture like that before—” you hate yourself for stuttering. Gosh, you do. But you can’t find your voice. Not when Seungmin leans a breath closer, you urge backwards only to be met with Jeongin’s body.
“Hm, wasn’t that your idea?” Seungmin asks, his calloused hand finding yours on the camera, the roughness of his skin from training brushes on you. Pretending not to notice the shakiness in which you hold the object as he guides your thumb to the shutter. Your heart thumps. “To click us into memory, make a magazine, whatever you wanted to do.” His voice is lower, soothing and lighting the nerves in your muscles simultaneously. Somehow.
Would it be wrong to get turned on?
It's so sudden, too sudden. It's nothing, but at the same time it's too much for you. You who grasps on every tiny detail. It's like they're aware of that.
You can barely think, barely register what they’re saying. Perhaps you speak, but it comes off as inaudible, face flushing when the chest behind you stutters. A huff. Two huffs then a laugh. You blink, and they’re both cackling at your expression.
“Hyung, you’re so fucking mean.” Jeongin wheezes, his hands landing lightly on your back as he tries, and fails to seem sorry. “Look at her face, oh my god.”
Oh.
Seungmin sneers. “You started it, Jeongin-ah. Why are you blaming me?” he asks, a faint smirk clings to his lips.
Why did you come here? Right. Stupid project. What’s worse? It’s the coil in your stomach refusing to dissipate as they play right in your face.
You let out a weak, awkward laugh and drop your forehead into your palms. “That’s… really funny,” you mutter dryly. “Hilarious.”
Should’ve accepted failing the class.
The humiliation sinks in as their own chuckles die out. To say you got this dizzy over that — the built up teasing from the past hours participating in. Seungmin grazes your arm and you nearly jerk away from both of them. “Hey—” he starts when you refuse to even lift your head. You can barely hear him through your ringing embarrassment.
“It was a joke,” Jeongin clears, attempting to soften his voice. “Sorry,” he glances at Seungmin, silently signaling him.
“You good?”
Of course he’d ask that.
You nod way too hard. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
“You sure…? You don’t seem so–”
“I am,” you state. Feeling like an easy, bummed loser.
Your phone rings before any of them can start another sentence. For the first time today, you could kiss your roommate for existing. Snatching the opportunity like a lifeline, “I’ve got to go. Pet care-taker duties,” you excuse, scramble to your feet and grab your camera despite their growing confusion.
“Pet caretaker—?”
This is rash, but anyone would react that way right?
Perhaps not.
You’re on your way out when Jeongin’s fingers catch the hem of your top for a second in an attempt at slowing you. “Wait, hold on—” alas, it inches down and you gasp.
Jeongin’s eyes widen at the sudden action, yanking his hand back immediately. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him blush before, but a light pink coats his ears. “Shit—sorry.”
Seungmin coughs, clearing his throat. However, it does nothing at hiding his amusement. “The project, are you coming back tomorrow–?”
You gulp, indecisive with how your gaze darts to the corner of the room, plastering the image of his wall inside your mind. “I’m not sure. I’ll let you know,” and with that you leave the room, slamming the front door shut with the heaviness of your steps.
There’s a silence that whistles through the room. Seungmin turns to Jeongin, bobbing his head to his side. “Think we killed it,” there's a questioning undertone in his voice, a question he's seeking Jeongin for validation.
Jeongin shrugs, resting back on his palms, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. His head hangs low, his bangs hiding his unusual flush, “–Don’t know. I thought it was funny.”
Seungmin nods briefly, eyeing the younger. “You know what's more hilarious?” he asks, shifting closer.
“What?”
“Your face, are you flustered? Ayen…” he teases, being annoying. “Did she fluster you?”
Jeongin grunts, pushing Seungmin’s head as far as possible. “Bro, no. What the fuck.”
“Hmm, okay. If you say so,” Seungmin mutters, replaying your reaction on loop. You hadn’t reacted exactly how he was expecting. Perhaps he was hoping you'd lean into it, rather than scrambling off so clumsily. The abashness of the younger ticked him off in a way he couldn’t muster. He found it funny, yeah — but it also bothered him in a way he can't explain. It's faint though, a fleeting coil that could escape him too.
Could he call that the beginning of jealousy?
Tsk. What stupid thoughts, he barely knows you.
Not like it was a problem before, so why now?
—
You’ve decided not to go. To take a day off from seeing them, just one—to think about it and get your head straight, well conscious of how you’re overreacting it. One turned into two days, two turned into nearly a week of dragging this out. It’s mortifying, okay? You can’t control how you feel, nor how your cheeks warm up at the mere thought of what happened.
The memory boils on your skin, sizzling the bottom of your stomach, unwillingly growing needy at the flashing images. It brims tears to your eyes. Guilty of how wet it made you to get teased like this, shame prickling at your nerves. Maybe that’s why you left. Because if they tugged at your head a second longer, laughed in that manner while cornering you — you’d moan right there. Unfortunately, this is who you are.
They texted you a few times, asking if you were busy—which you gave the same response every time. A simple word, ‘yes.’
They stopped inquiring after a few days. This is stupid, you’re acting stupid. You aren’t this asinine normally. Their fault, really. Begging that they’d leave the rest of the project to you, never bother you again and let you complete it with a sign of their names at the end. As if they contributed. And yet.
“Hello? Are you yn?” someone asks, tapping your shoulder as you idly sit on a bench outside the main building. Doing absolutely nothing but staring at the water falling off the fontaine, nothing that you swore you were busy with at least. Your eyes meet hers, and she beams in reassurance.
“Not to bother you, but you’re asked at the gymnasium.”
“Huh?” you glance around, there’s no other you in the area. “Me?”
“Yes—aren’t you…?”
“I am,” you reply, lashes fluttering in confusion. “But why… isn’t a class active there?”
She fidgets with her thumbs, she’s clearly shy, or scared—probably a freshman. Whatever. Much resembling you, the part you try to hide despite the forming cracks. “Please go, please?”
This got to be a trick, a trap designed just for you. You find yourself following her despite the alarming red flags, how she started typing on her phone the moment you reached towards her doesn't escape you.
This feels wrong.
Swallowing dryly as you reach the front of the gymnasium, fingers hovering above the handle when it abruptly opens on the other side.
You’re pulled inside before you can grasp it. Arms finding themselves wrapped around you. Brusque and strong, slightly drenched from working out. “She’s here!”
Your pupils blow wide, instantly meeting the ones of the girl a few feet away. She gives you a pitiful glance and you shake your head. “What—”
There’s a hoard of guys that encircles you, grouping you in the middle of them. You're shaking, an insect size earthquake rambling throughout your body. Only you can feel it.
“Everybody, move.” A voice that you recognise cuts through, Seungmin.
You see him before he touches you, warm fingers envelopping the meat of your wrist, separating you from the crowd. “Calm down, the hell?”
“Don’t be harsh, Kim Seungmin,” one spills above the crowd’s volume. “You said she was here to photograph us.”
A confused noise leaves you, not quite a question but Seungmin catches it. “I said, she was here to spend the afternoon. And that she might, after class. Not during.”
Another one complains and Seungmin grunts in response, “Just go back to whatever you were doing, get lost. Hurry.”
“Was I aware of this–?” you ask as everyone disperses begrudgingly, him being the only person in your hearing zone. “I said that I was busy.”
Woah.
You’ve never heard this tone leave your throat before.
He sighs, brushing off the strands of hair sticking to his forehead. His slick hair. Gaze subconsciously trailing down his body, to the curve of his shoulders, the damp of his shirt to—
You stop yourself.
Eyes snapping back at him despite your difficulty to hold eye contact. You shouldn't've, because the intensity of them nearly melts you on the spot. Suddenly conscious of his lingering touch on your wrist, which has softened the longer he’s holding you.
“Busy wandering the hallways for the entire week, seriously?”
You huff, mouth gaping to say something, then closing. Because you have been wandering off the entire day. But still. “Are you stalking me?”
Gosh, what the fuck are you saying. He’s visibly sharing mutual thoughts since his features contorts to one of skepticism. “Stalking you? Don’t be stupid, I asked someone from your major. You thought I wouldn’t after a week of you ignoring us?”
Still counts.
He blinks, briefly staring at the ceiling in contemplation as he registers his own words.
Insinuating that he went out of his way, to find someone related to you. “For the project,” he clarifies, clearing the light rasp in his voice. “I want to get it done already, there is only one commune gym class per week—and you just happen to get busy everyday. Especially today.”
“Not like I would’ve known it would be today,” you retort and he scoffs. Scoffs.
Painfully attractive. Your heart squeezes.
“Listen,” he urges. He’s been thinking about it, if his and Jeongin’s teasing had been as bad as you made it out to be. He really had been mulling it over these past few days. Much unlike the persona he tries to show. He thought you’d just forget about it, and eventually show up. But no. You went and got ‘busy’ for a whole fucking week. Clearly avoiding them.
His gaze locks on yours, and fuck—have you always been this cute?
The stern look enrobing your face tugs at unnecessary sudden thoughts he doesn't have control of.
Maybe not seeing you for a week was messing with his head more than he’d like to admit.
He sighs, again. Muttering something under his breath that you can't catch, but the pinch forming at his frown tells you the intention. Breathing in, as if he can't believe what he's about to say next.
“I apologize for what happened. If it made you uneasy—my bad, but you didn’t have to fucking ghost us over a whole week for it. You know?” his frustration bubbles in his throat, his fingers tightening on your wrist. Both of your eyes travel to where he hasn't let you go.
He releases you in a burn, as if it irritated him for holding you that long. “Whatever,” he mumbles, blinking away from your surprised face. “I don’t like wasting my time, and that’s what you’re doing right now.”
“Okay, fine.” you mirror his breath, pretending you weren't internally losing it. “Whatever.”
“What? That’s all?” he asks, subconsciously dropping his voice to yours.
“What else do you want me to say—”
“—That you’re sorry,” he interrupts, acting like the question was dumb in itself.
“But you already did that…” you reply, nail tweaking the fabric of your shirt. “Why would I be sorry?”
“For…” he starts, stopping midway, thinking over before he speaks any nonsense. “For—”
“Hyung!” someone shouts from afar, your heads snapping in the direction of the sound.
Jeongin’s jogs to your side of the gymnasium, finally stopping before you in huge pants. “What’re you doing— coach is asking where you are.” he lifts his hunched body, eyes meeting yours. “Oh, yn-ah. You’re also here? Thought you disappeared from campus.”
Eh?
“Didn’t Seungmin tel—” you try to say but his hand finds your lips before you do, muffling your incoming sentence.
Jeongin squints dubiously at the interaction, eyes meeting where Seungmin's hand tapes your mouth.
“Didn’t she tell you she’d come?” Seungmin blurts, completely twisting your words when he had lured you to come. So, he told everyone but Jeongin. Okay.
You had thought otherwise, especially after the huge stunt from earlier. It was hard to miss.
You sure hope that the light whimper that left you got muffled by his palm, eyes gaping at Jeongin before you for help. Only to get completely ignored as they converse in front of you, with his hand still on your mouth. Brushing your lips.
Yet, you hear them ignore you. You constat so. But there's a slight twitch in Jeongin's jaw you're not sure you caught. He says something about continuing class, stepping a foot closer to your bodies.
You tug at Seungmin's wrist, nails grazing his skin and he looks down. Gaze locking for the period of a breath as he releases you, however, it’s slow. His arm swipes across your jaw to your neck, subtly resting on your collarbone, a silent display.
“Switch places with me, keep her company for a while. I’ll be back.”
“Is that okay with you?”
Jeongin's talking to you.
You reply without realizing, lips parting in agreement. Then it registers when Seungmin’s body abandons yours, stealing away the warmth it basked you in as he returns to the field. Leaving you with the younger boy.
Wait what?
He doesn’t give you time to react either, fingers swiftly wrapping themselves around your hand. Not wrist, not arm — your hand. Somehow, that's the boldest thing they've done so far.
He leads you to a nearby bench. The casual skinship being shared with you throws you off guard, especially after hearing that Yang Jeongin wasn't a fan of it. Barely clasping the situation except for the heat that radiates from his hardened figure. Quickly replacing the lost temperature from Seungmin. He lays back, white shirt flexing on his biceps. “Noona,” he mutters, fluttering his lashes lazily. “Can I call you noona?”
Your palms sweat a river, rubbing them off the fabric of your pants as you take in his question, brows raising. “I don’t think we have a huge age gap, you don’t have to—”
“But,” he hums, smiling, showing the dent of his dimples, “I want to.”
“Ah,” you nod in the following silence, not quite grasping how to reply to that. “Sure then…”
A second passes, and he sighs. Rolling his head, glancing at him to notice the vein popping at his neck. The skin glistens under the light, involuntarily gulping. This feels wrong, so wrong to constantly gawk at them. You’re ashamed, but then he speaks. “Did he force you to come?”
He knows.
It’d be weirder if he didn’t. That’s his friend, you supposed. “I wouldn’t call it forcing,” you state, though you aren’t certain yourself.
He leans back on the bench with a hum, nodding. “Guessed so. He’s usually a good liar, wouldn’t say the same for earlier.”
You fall into silence, you wouldn't know what he's talking about. You're not used to these people… but then, a ghost of a touch lands on your jaw, guiding you to face him.
“Jeongin–”
“You let him touch you,” he stops you, his smile never leaves his face. His voice is reprimanding even with how light it sounds, you pick it that way. His fingers ghosts over the side of your face, tracing where Seungmin had clasped his hand above your cheek, slowly inching to your lips, “and he claims it’s for the project.” He runs his thumb across the seam of your lower lip and you pursue them in a thin line, frown deepening.
“Are you teasing me again…?”
“No,” he replies, firm. “Was just wondering,” he trails his gaze, hovering on your lips. “How soft they’d be.”
Your jaw hangs, and he thinks that’s his favourite expression on you. Undeniably scorching underneath his touch. There’s a twist in his stomach, something familiar to his body—and yet, a stranger to his brain. Feeling the intense need to pull you back from Seungmin’s sudden grip, to cut through the ropes he’s unconsciously tying you with.
Strange, he’s never had possessiveness issues with girls before. Perhaps he did, but it never happened concerning his friends. He could just be taking enjoyment in teasing you in search of the reactions you keep feeding his consciousness, you're a fun person to mess with. Though, it doesn't quite fit that strict standard.
For some reason, he can’t help the twinge of jealousy that threatens to emerge.
The tip of your fingers twitch, trembling on your laps, hovering slightly as you don't know what to do with them. “I— How soft—?” you repeat, coming off as a hitch. Sure that your brain stopped working a second ago, you shake your head, denying his theory. He stares at you as if he was observing every spasm of muscle, every smack of lips. Gaze following each direction your dilating pupils take, pulse beating in your eardrums in thuds.
“People are looking,” you try to reason, to provide a plausible reason for him to leave your bubble. Alas, he doesn’t seem to mind a bit.
“So?” he says in a hush, “Does it bother you…” it comes off as a whisper, dilated pupils dropping to his moving lips, “that I’m touching you right now, am I being weird?”
You gulp. He watches, eyes unleaving before he eventually pulls back, using the same hand to rake through his hair. Making an effort to give you space when you don't reply, blinking down at your laps instead. You touch your own lips, head hanging now to hide your flushed expression.
“Class will be over soon,” he mentions, staring ahead. “All those guys will be swooning around you, and you’ll photograph them,” he finds Seungmin in the crowd, blankly fixing him, “that’s why he brought you here, the excuse he gave.”
Why is he acting like this, what’s the point?
You’re indecisive whether you like it or not.
The pit in your stomach sure does despite your attempt to mask it, your thighs dig into the edge of the bench, uncomfortable out of nowhere. “It’s for the project, I suppose… collective idea.”
He takes a dim view at you, a crease forming above his nose. “Are you oblivious, or do you pretend to be?”
Your mouth parts, to retort with something but the sharp sound of a whistle pierces through, the noise echoing down the gymnasium’s walls. He stands up before you do, dusting the back of his pants when he notices the athletes scatter across the field. “Don’t be stupid, noona,” he warns, “a guy’s intention is not hard to tell.” For whatever reason, it feels like a warning, grabbing your hand with no attention being paid to your tiny noise of complaint. His fingers snake down your wrist, holding you above your pulse point. You’re agitated, heartbeat running a marathon. He likes it, you’re cute like this, all wide eyes gaping at him as he guides you towards him. “Tell me if they nag you too much, m’kay?”
—
“Three, two… one.”
Click.
The shutters come off with a ‘chik’, knuckles gripping the device as you wander off to the other side of the gymnasium. One more time.
They’re overworking you, having you run off every other second to catch different shots and angles of random sweaty, muscular, abnormally handsome dudes. The last part is just your opinion though.
Your feet ache, sore and burning in the tight confinement of your shoes, your soles numb by now. “One more!”
God, no. Jeongin’s empty promise lives in your mind. He had asked you to tell him if they were harassing you, but he took work harassment as unnecessary apparently. “That’s not what I meant,” is what he replied, urging you to get back to work as he went back to converse with his teammates. Seungmin wasn’t paying much consideration to you either, after making the trouble of manipulating you here using a freshman.
Curse Jeongin. Curse Seungmin. Curse everyone in this room, including yourself for always bringing your camera around. For that? Curse your major.
“I don’t— I don’t think I can any more,” you gasp in an exhausted pant, the whole area is huge — huge for your pitiful, unathletic body. “A break, please.” you beg. Seungmin has the audacity to act as if he was thinking about it, as if interrupting his conversation was a crime to begin with.
“Then go sit down?” he retorts, mildly irritated that you asked. You frown, because earlier you hoped to, but as soon as your ass made contact with the floor — they demanded you to get back up immediately.
You’ll never forget how rude jocks are.
Sprawled on a bench at the complete corner, you refused to give him a response. You totally would, you even imagined the whole scenario. Then it hits you that that stupid frathouse he’s part of will burn you alive if you’re bluntly rude to any of them, him specifically. His face is rude to look at. That’s a lie, you want to kiss him. Or worse.
“Noooo, yn.” you mutter in a wince, shaking your head in disapproval, “stop, bad bad thoughts…”
A shadow catches your eye of sight, towering your sitting figure.
“Oh, aren’t you–?”
Your head snaps up to the stranger standing before you, not-so a stranger as you take in who it is. He smiles, fingers tugging at the top zipper of his jacket, pulling it down in this heat. Sweat drizzles in beads on the skin of his neck, and you wonder if sweating has ever looked hotter on anyone else.
Stop.
Stay strong. No other frat dudes will ruin your semester, you’re already letting two boss you around. No more.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he exclaims, plopping down next to you horrifyingly comfortably. “It’s our second time meeting, no? You remember me?” he speaks, but your cheeks are too puffed with overly nervous air to be able. Chris, cocks his head to the side, following the direction of where you’re facing. “Not much of a talker, huh.”
“I know you,” you reply, bobbing your head up and down in a futile attempt at seeming stable. Everyone knows him. Holy shit, you’re actually alone with him right now — without Jeongin shielding you from any real interaction. Fuckass leader of their cult, and here you were worrying about Seungmin. That’s like fighting the final boss as a level two player in an ecchi game where he’s an ogre and you’re a maiden — except that he’s too beautiful to be an ogre.
“I know you too,” he grins, the dents on his cheek hollow and charming. He resembles Jeongin, in a way, perhaps because they are roommates — the mannerisms rub off. He hums, glancing to your fumbling hands when he notices the camera, “Ah, that’s why you’re here.”
“Are Seungmin and Jeongin keeping you busy, you must be tired.” he mentions and you instantly nod at the accusation towards them, turning into a head shake of denial when he starts chuckling, realising that you’re agreeing on shit regarding his fraternity.
“No, they aren’t—” you deny, pained through gritted teeth because the ache in your feet proves otherwise.
He stands up, and you think you’re done for, but then he walks up to you – crouching so that you can’t face the floor anymore but his striking features. Forcing you to look at him.
Are all guys around here this pushy—? Social space’s got to be a myth for them.
You must be an easy target, because his palm slides over yours, half-grabbing the camera with you. Soothing. Cradling your palm in his with soft hands.
“Take a picture of me,” he asks, already urging you to stand with him. You’re dizzy. A mantra of no looping in your head — hopelessly searching for Jeongin’s face amongst the crowd as Chris leads you to a painted wall with the school’s athlete theme logo plastered on it.
The people in your proximity fall into silence when you pass by them. Not because of you, but him. Chitter-chatter dies unless he looks back and waves, and they claim it’s not a cult. A group of cheerleaders eyes you down dirty, their poms dropping to their sides, stiff. You can’t even look back, your gaze might tell them you don’t want to be here. Either way, people will get mad at you in these types of situations.
You’ve read enough forums to be aware of this. How does it feel to be popular? Now it feels the opposite. The same spotlight being put upon you against your consent.
“Here,” he instructs, stopping in his tracks. “I’ll go there, you decide where to stand.” he informs, stepping back. “You’re the professional here.”
“Okay,” you reply, throat tight. Putting some distance when you’re hit with a familiar surface, you don’t have to peek back to know who it is. You still look.
“Are you all right?” he asks, voice low only for you to hear.
“I think,” you breathe out, bringing your camera before you. Chris doesn’t say anything about Jeongin’s presence being glued to your back, but there’s something in his expression that you’re unable to decipher — unlike Jeongin, his hyung is transparent to him. “My hands are trembling,” you admit. It comes out before you can grasp it, perhaps because he had told you to tell him if something — someone is bothering you. Your mouth just accepted his comfort before your brain does.
He’s quiet for a second.
Then.
His arms embrace your sides. You fold your arms together in a surprised reflex from the hug. He’s not hugging you though it comes close. He holds the camera with you, steadying your clumsy hands with his bigger ones. His biceps grazes your skin through your clothes, breath fanning on your neck as he leans down to ear level. “Is that better?”
“No, worse.” you instantly stammer, chest heaving and falling rapidly.
“I can hear your pulse,” he informs you in a whisper. And he shouldn’t have, really, now it’s faster. “Relax, just take the picture. Get it done with yn.”
You inhale in, slowly exhaling out. Clicking the shutters on your most controlled breath, scared that you’ll lose it on the next one. You click a few with the help of Jeongin, eventually dropping your camera. “I’m done.”
Jeongin’s hold leaves you, but he stays by your side.
Chris approaches, “Can I see them?”
You blink, absently biting the inside of your cheeks. “There’s too many pictures in… I’ll have to transfer them to my laptop or else we will have to go through each one by one.”
“Ohh, I see.” he hums, thinking about it. “Then… send them to me after. I’ll give you my numb—”
“I’ll send them to you, hyung. Don’t worry about it,” Jeongin blurts out, subtly pushing you back onto him. Subtly, but it’s a full step back towards him. Till you’re clasped into each other. He’s smiling, however his tone carries an edge. A tinge of possessiveness.
Chris throws his hand up, shrugging his shoulders. “All right. I have no complaints, Ayen-ah.” he replies, stepping forward. “As long,” he trails, holding eye contact, “as I get those pictures, in the end. No complaints.”
Jeongin’s glare doesn’t leave Chris until he’s out of sight, getting busy with his coach somewhere far off. He sighs. Sighs. Gaze dropping to yours, pivoting you to face him.
He seems annoyed, irritated by Chris’ approach, you’re more relieved that the latter left. Subconsciously scooting towards Jeongin’s embrace. “What was that…” you ask, earning a click of tongue from him.
“Ignore him,” he replies, “can’t have anything anymore. Just gotta stick their asses in,” he’s muttering, barely audible.
“Huh, what? I can’t hear you.”
He pokes his tongue inside his mouth, forcing a bump on his cheek. “Forget it, are you done with the photos?”
You nod, pointing to your camera. “Yup, all in.”
“Okay, let’s go back then. Don’t feel like staying here any more.”
—
“The pictures are good,” Seungmin agrees, clicking on swipe. “But those losers are lame,” he adds, squinting at each individual he’s seeing on screen, “being this unphotogenic gotta be against the regulations, what the fuck.”
You’re sprawled across his bed, the three of you crashing his dorm for the past hour. You brought your laptop, showing the safe part of it only. “I don’t think it's that bad,” you reply, pointing to the mouse so that he’d give it to you.
Jeongin has been quiet for a while — lost in thoughts, letting you and Seungmin do most of the talking. Snapping awake when Seungmin kicks his knee. “Wake up, dude.”
“Eh?”
Seungmin scoffs, “The pictures, what do you think?”
Jeongin gazes at the screen, watching you roll past a few images. They’re ugly, he means to say. Not because you took them though, that’d be a lie. The problems are the recipients. “They’re…” he slurs, a bit tired when he looks at you; you have such a hopeful daze in your eyes, waiting for some validation. He groans, rubbing his forehead. “They’re great. Such… symmetry.”
Both you and Seungmin share a glance, skepticism etching your features.
“Just go back to sleep,” Seungmin tuts, facing forward when he notices a certain picture. “Wait, hol’ on.” he stops you, indicating where to click. You do, and he zooms in. “This. I didn’t know you took Chan’s photo?”
You awkwardly peek sideways, shrugging. “He asked me to,” expecting some sort of reaction from him, but he dwells on it; humming.
“I got an idea, come here.” he requests, slapping Jeongin’s arm to get him to follow as you form a circle on his mattress. “Nobody cares about those guys, right?”
Jeongin nods. You don’t know what answer to give this statement.
“We could make the magazine about us?” he suggests.
“About Stray Kids?”
“Yeah.”
“No,” your and Jeongin’s ‘no’ comes off simultaneously, quickly disapproving.
Seungmin perks a brow, resting his arms on his crossed legs. “Why? It’s a good idea.”
You stay silent, well aware that this won’t be good for your heart. Nor your body, nor your mind. You in general. However, you have no idea why Jeongin refused, stealing a glance at him to wait for his reasoning.
“I don’t want to, do I need a reason?” he retorts, keeping his tone normal the best he can.
“Yeah, you do. My grades matter on this, your grades will count because of this. yn?” he addresses you, shifting his focus to you and you wince internally.
It is an amazing idea, probably the best one so far… but… what do you even say here?!
No, I can’t because you guys get me all hot and bothered, and I might just bust if you keep getting into my space like that.
Okay. Nopes.
You throw your head forward onto your palms, your whole body sighing deeply in defeat. You hadn’t had much choice since this whole thing began, to be honest. What will it change?
“Fine…” you mumble, “I’m for Seungmin’s idea.”
They both stare at you momentarily, gaze heavy despite your lowered head. The way in which Seungmin’s lips curl into a smirk escapes you, and so does Jeongin’s growing frown.
“Two against one, guess we’re following my suggestion by fair voting. Hm?” Seungmin states, not quite a question, a spark of victory engraving his voice when Jeongin huffs, tsking. Tapping his knee in quiet frustration before reluctantly nodding, mumbling out a quiet ‘okay.’
You start to map out the magazine, planning each page and dividing the sections. Notes, members, club activities. They explain how their classes and clubs work, and you note it down. When it's your turn explaining, they’re the ones to listen. They’re attentive, you give them that. Perhaps because they are subtly admiring your focused expression, the knit of your brows, the tiny sniffs you take when they stare too hard — the pout that forms at your lips. Addicting.
Do you realize how cute you are? They wonder.
The clock ticks, time flying by and you’re soon yawning out. Lazily blinking as you type your last sentence so far. “I think… we are done for today, what else is there?” you ask, peering at them. They seem as tired, half-way lying dead on the mattress.
“We can continue later, I think it’s past midnight.” Jeongin mumbles, glancing at his phone screen.
Your own eyes land on the clock on your laptop, mouth gaping. “Oh shit, it is. I’ll get going then—” you heave up, but they hold onto you, throwing you back with a thud.
“It’s late, stay.” Seungmin asks — demands.
“I couldn’t possibly—” you try to oppose, but Jeongin is already packing your stuff, setting them on the nearby desk before returning to his initial seat. Next to you. Not for a project. “I have to go home…” you hope to object, but they tug you closer and your voice dies in a slur. “My roommate…”
“–is grown, she’ll manage without you tonight.” Seungmin declares, because he might not if you decide to leave again after such difficulty to get you here.
“Oh,” you hitch, shifting your head sideways to be met with Jeongin. You really can’t escape, huh. “Can I sleep on the couch?”
“No,” Jeongin replies, his forehead resting on your shoulder. “Felix is downstairs, stay here. Be good,” the last part comes off as a whisper. You nearly choke.
“I, uhm. Ok.”
They could laugh at your malfunction, but the last time they did you fled away for a solid week. For some reason, they don’t feel like teasing either.
Probably a dumb reason.
Seungmin switches off the lights, darkness filling your vision, as if that made it any better. Their proximity is louder than anything, how are you supposed to sleep in such a deafening atmosphere? Suddenly hyperaware of the fleeting touches and caresses that land on your body.
There's nothing at first, just the sound of your heavy breathing — cursing at yourself for it, but then, it's like they keep inching towards you. Closing any chance of distance till you're made of one piece. You're sure that you're dreaming it, that you fell asleep and this is all an illusion of your deepest fantasies of this exact situation. Clinging onto the logic till an arm wraps around your waist, having forgotten who is on which side on the spot. You gasp, not even an audible sound when you're rolled onto your side. The same arm snaking where your shirt hikes upwards. “Fuck, you're soft.”
Jeongin.
Mistake thinking it's only him when they're busy playing team tagging. The one behind you, Seungmin, pulls himself to your back. Spooning you like a pillow, their personal pillow. He hums, satisfied with the scent of your shampoo invading his nostrils.
Your thighs squeeze. Lord, not now. But when else?
“Guys…”
“Sleep,” Jeongin sighs, nose nuzzling your neck, bangs tickling your skin.
You can't. You hear crickets despite the lack of a nearby forest. It keeps you awake.
You'd be crazy to think that they're almost grinding on you, or you're the one doing it. You can't tell either. Your brain is working overtime, core throbbing painfully at the ideas that washes your mind. Jeongin's lips land flimsy above the collar of your shirt, you shiver in dull desire, hips involuntarily rolling back when you hear a light grunt from beside your ear. “I'm sorry—” you quickly apologize when Seungmin's palms lay flat on your hips, stilling your squirming self.
“Are you trying to make me pop a boner?” he murmurs, voice rough from sleep and something darker.
You apologize again; soft, guilty mumbles leaving your lips. Jeongin fights the urge to shut you up with a kiss. To seal those inviting lips of your. To be the first one of them to do it.
To claim you first before any of his hyungs get the chance to snatch you from him.
They’re sleepy, and you keep on rambling. Rambling off about how you could sleep on the floor, that it'd be better for everyone when they nicely decided to tuck you in with them. How cruel of you, really. It happens to be Seungmin's last straw.
“Ayen,” he begs in a groggy grunt, swiftly taking hold of the back of your head. “Keep her quiet.”
Jeongin doesn't hesitate.
His lips meet yours in a sweet haste, not registering any of it actually happening until his lips part, swallowing the huff you let out. He gives you a slow caress, a merciful chance to adjust. Your eyes squeeze shut, not having kissed anyone in years, you fight to keep up. He doesn't care, taking pleasure in the ineptitude in which you try to kiss back. Your lack of experience is endearing when his fingers find your jaw, gaping at your mouth to lick the drool that threatens to spill. Soft, pathetic, high pitched whimpers leave you mid kiss, begging for some oxygen when he steals yours away. Pulling back at last, his breath ghosts on your nose. Though, you get no time to recover when your face is hunched to the side, another pair of lips making contact with your parted ones.
Seungmin might just deem you as a drug. He's rougher than Jeongin, though his lips are delicate. The shakiness in which you allow him to do whatever with your mouth pleases him, the naivety in which you aim to breathe through your nose because they aren't giving you any opportunity for air to fill your lungs. Shit — should've kissed you sooner. Should've kissed you the first time you zoned out with that dumb expression of yours. He's been wondering why you kept doing that ever since, he might get an idea after this. He tilts his face, propping himself on his elbow to gain better access, shoving his tongue deep inside your mouth.
You moan, delirious when Jeongin's lips drop to your collarbone, sucking a slow, harsh mark there, that you have to tug at his hair — or Seungmin's. It's difficult to differentiate in this state.
He pulls back when you whine, heated eyes staring at you through pitch black darkness, breathing a ton. “Shit,” he curses, there's a throb in his pants, and with the shuffling from Jeongin's side, he's sure the sensation is mutual amongst them. Still, you're shuddering wildly, uncertain of how much you can handle — for now. “Let's just–” he pants, catching his stolen voice, “let's just go to sleep.”
—
The first thing you did when the sun rose was leave.
You left. Tearing yourself from tangled limbs, swiftly grabbing your belongings as you left without informing anyone. You can’t — you can’t handle that.
You hadn’t expected this to happen. Well maybe a minuscule logical part of you did — noticing the obvious signs early on, only to mark it with a ‘delusion’ arrow. You nearly bumped into a sleepy Felix on your escapee, just to ignore his confused grunt and make it out of the door.
You’re done for. Doomed. Rejected. Will regret this.
Living in fear for the rest of the day, an intense sense of familiar paranoia tugging at your heart. You can’t — that’s what you keep reminding yourself of. Except that they’re the ones doing it, and you’re silently letting them in.
“What the hell, yn.” you mutter, hands messing with your hair in disbelief.
—
“Do I stink?” Jeongin asks, sniffing the sleeve of his shirt.
“No shit,” Seungmin replies, the sarcasm in his response is loud. He doesn’t think he’s that behind. They hardly made it out of their individual practice tonight, deciding to meet up afterwards. The commune showers are crowded. Their clothes stick to their bodies, hair damp from washing it under the cold, tap water.
“I can’t believe she left without a word,” Jeongin blurts out and Seungmin hums in feign confusion. “This morning?”
He shrugs, eyes landing on the nearby opened store. “I can believe it, fits her character.” he says, though, he’s distracted by the pink hue of the store, ‘Welcome’ plastered on top. “Jeongin.”
“Hm?”
“I’m craving popsicles.”
—
Knock knock.
Jeongin’s knuckles hammers against your dorm’s door, the two of them standing by. They wait. It’s the third knock, and they’re getting impatient. “You think she’s home or nah?”
“Dunno, knock one more time.” Seungmin encourages, watching the younger man make a last attempt when the door creaks open. They anticipated to be met with your head peeking out curiously, unfortunately, the person behind the door isn’t you.
“Uhm, hello?” the girl speaks, taking a proper look as her eyes widen when she realizes who is standing before her. Panicked confusion seers through for a second, but then the memory of you mumbling about your project hits her. “Are you here for my roommate…?”
They nod and she opens the door wider, hesitant. “She’s not home right now, I think she went to the library.”
“We can wait here, no? Is she going to take long,” Jeongin asks, and she seems genuinely perplexed by it. Reluctant to let them inside.
Her tongue swipes across her lips, nodding. “Totally, I was about to leave either way. You can watch over meanwhile, I guess.”
Seungmin isn’t too fan of her telling them to watch over but Jeongin intercepts it before he does, grabbing his arm to pull them both inside. “Thanks.”
“No worries,” she assures, awkwardly clasping her shoes on. “You can stay here, sit on the couch. I don’t know, make yourself at home.” she says, about to head out as she suddenly stops. For the first time, feeling a bit considerate regarding you. Taking a deep inhale to gather the courage to face them, “Don’t enter her room, at all costs. That’s all, bye.”
At least she tried to warn them. She doesn’t know exactly why you prohibit people from entering your room since you usually keep to yourself. But you had expressed this rule several times, she felt the need to mention it before heading out.
Jeongin sprawls on the couch, throwing his head back, observing Seungmin walk towards the freezer, resting the popsicles deep inside cold refuge. “Hey,” he voices when Jeongin takes out his phone, earning a curious ‘hm’ from the other. “Why do you think she warned us?”
“Girls stuff, maybe. How would I know?” he replies, not quite dwelling on it like Seungmin. “Why do you ask?”
“Curious, that’s all.” he plops down next to Jeongin, propping his elbows on his thighs. “It’s weird, honestly.”
“You mean… you want to take a look?”
“Don’t you?”
Jeongin swallows, glancing at the shut door. “And… if she comes back?”
“We’ll act innocent, we know nothing.”
“Yeah, okay. We aren’t snooping around,” he reassures and Seungmin nods.
“We’re just loitering, crashing, nothing wrong with that.”
They hesitate — pretend to in order to please their conscience — yet, they thread through either way.
—
Your room is nothing unusual, nothing worth a warning for if they had to be real.
The walls are clean, you’re well hygienic, and there are barely any interesting posters up. Tidy, neat, casual.
“It’s like I’m stepping into an epitome of boredom, holy. Has she never heard of decorations?” Seungmin groans, pulling your desk chair to take a seat, rolling the wheels lazily.
Jeongin hums, sitting on your bed. The mattress is softer than his, taking delight by bouncing on it.
“You look stupid, quit doing that.” Seungmin snarks, raising his leg to kick Jeongin’s leg.
“Honestly, nothing here gives off her vibes. Or is it my opinion?”
Seungmin shakes his head, pupils darting around. “Nah, you’re right. I expected something a bit more…”
“Loseristic?”
“You're making up words now?” Seungmin asks, huffing a laugh. “Rude, I’ll tell her you called her a loser.”
“Says the rude one, bet she likes me better.” Jeongin states, pretending not to notice the twitch in Seungmin’s brow.
“I don't need to be desperate to get a girl,” Seungmin retorts, a mean blade to his tone. Jeongin's used to it.
“If you say so,” Jeongin mumbles, hiding the growing rigidity in his body with a cheeky grin. Throwing his body backwards onto the mattress when he hears a weird sound. He does it again despite Seungmin's skeptical stare. “Yo, hyung.” he calls, laying his palm flat on the surface, applying pressure. “I think there's something under the bed.”
“Huh, like what?” Seungmin asks, cocking his head in confusion. He stands up as Jeongin does, helping him lift the mattress.
Their eyes widen. Freezing on the spot to the stash of material before them.
Ten… “Tentacle?”
Jeongin picks up something, reading the cover. “Alien, monster. Eh, orgy?”
They skim through, attention being driven towards the crude displays in front of them. Girls getting gangbanged, manhandled, used. Boys not far off, you do have a type — they've come to know that.
The deafening agreement that courses through is wordless, they leave the mattress, bodies working around to find other leaks. Evidence that they aren't insane for this.
“I found porno games–” Jeongin begins, moving the front row of your books to the side to reveal DVDs, CDs, audiobooks, games — mangas, magazines. Your magazines — he opens them, swiping through the pages of naked men, handsome naked men — so that's where you got the idea from.
“I found something crazier,” Seungmin mumbles, his surprised amusement itching his throat. “Come see.”
He does, and that's probably the last thing he was anticipating to see in your room. There's toys, he can't blame you for that. But it's the specification of them.
Seungmin picks a dildo up, the shape weird in his palm. “You think that went inside?”
It's long. Sharp at the tip, purple with suctions on the edges. The picture of you using it to get off plagues his mind, and he's not scared to admit that it turns him on.
Jeongin blinks, his face running hot at the thought. He had thought you’d be naive, hence why you kept reacting with such innocence and timidity. Perhaps not, perhaps it was the complete opposite.
“Who would picture her for a pervert,” he doubts his own words, the heavy gulp from Jeongin echoes in their pulsating eardrums. “Are you weirded out?”
“Kinda,” Jeongin admits, his nails finding the curve of his nape, the skin heats under his fingertips. “Would it be wrong to be into it?”
Seungmin stares at him, the answer to that clear in both of their minds. He's about to reply when they hears the front door click.
“Fuck–”
They panic, cursing under their breath as they rush to put everything back neatly. In place exactly how they found it. There's a dog barking in the distance, and a muffled hint of your voice peering through.
Your steps get closer, the wooden floor creaking when you reach your bedroom door. The doorknob twists, the movement almost in slow motion until the surface bursts open the second you hear something — some things you shouldn't be hearing inside your bedroom.
“What the–!” you shout, vision instantly crashing on the two of them. They're sitting idly, Jeongin on your chair and Seungmin on the bed. On their phone. “What are you doing here?” the urgency in your voice cracking it open.
“We were…” Seungmin eyes Jeongin briefly, who is as clueless as him, “waiting for you.”
“In my room–?”
The dog barks again.
“I mean, where else?”
You whine, the worry on your face is pitiful. Brows knitted, mouth into a thin–pouty line. Your lashes keep fluttering close, not grasping the situation quite well. “Did you… find anything?” you ask and they shake their heads.
You want to believe them, you wish to. But they are breathing a millisecond quicker, chests heaving uncharacteristically. The tip of their ears are red, and you're not confident on what brought this reaction to them. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, what do you want us to find?” Seungmin questions and you grumble, knees bobbing in anxiety.
“Nothing,” it's small, dropping the book you've borrowed from the library on the desk, and their eyes suspiciously follow the object; trying to decipher what's written on it as if it was the holy grail. “We can move to the common room–”
“Actually,” Jeongin interrupts. “Can we use your shower real quick? We haven't since practice ended.”
You blink, glancing around briefly before nodding hesitantly. “Go ahead…” you point to the bathroom and they lift up. Seungmin pauses midway, turning to you.
“By the way, we bought you popsicles. It's in the freezer, wasn't sure which flavour you’d prefer,” he says, lips quirking upwards, “so we brought both.”
—
The shower runs as a waterfall in your head, fixed in the middle of your bed for the past ten minutes. You checked your things once. Barely. You gave it a sliver of a glance, too embarrassed to properly check. Having no courage to stand up and try again.
So, you overthink it.
Clicking the tip of your nails between your teeth, leg shaking stressfully. You don’t feel so well, “What if they found out…” you whisper under a breath, the popsicle cools down your wrist, the melting liquid drooling on your skin. You don’t notice with several scenarios busying your attention. You’d prefer if they snapped at you, called you a weirdo and forced you to switch schools rather than feigning innocence. Because it sure felt like they were. Then you’d be clear of doubts that they’re aware of what’s hidden here, instead of living in crippling anxiety.
You’re on the verge of breaking down when the shower stops, snapping you out of your never-ending thoughts as the doorknob tilts open. It stops briefly, you can hear their conversation faintly, not clear enough to make out what they’re saying until the door eventually opens.
The sight has your heartbeat erratic, lungs squeezing for a sudden breather as they come out of your bathroom shirtless.
Jeongin’s pants hang low, low enough to show the trace of his V line and the waistband of his boxers. He dries the edge of his hair with the towel hanging around his neck. Seungmin’s behind him, the droplets from his damp strands rolling down his shoulders, to his chest. The view of his abs casually flexing with his steps has you faltering.
“Where— where are your clothes…!?” you squeal, palms covering your eyes like a sneaky child. It’d be endearing if they didn’t know what type of person you truly are. Still, they step forward.
“Clothes? We’re wearing–” Jeongin replies and you shake your head, face flushed.
“No, your shirts—”
“Oh, you mean that.” Seungmin hums, knee digging into the mattress and you might just die. “Sorry, it’s in the washer,” he mentions, somehow never showing any remorse in his apologies. “Does it bother you that we’re here like this?”
“I’m not sure–” you mean to say yes, but Jeongin finds comfort on your left. Casually laying onto your pillow, the same one you… oh.
“The water pressure here is low-key more decent than ours. Isn’t it, hyung?”
Seungmin steals the towel from Jeongin, fading the flush that crept on his face from the shower, “Yeah, makes you wanna stay in here longer. We should come here more often. You wouldn’t mind right?”
The glimpse you take at his dripping chest is well noticed by him, faintly smirking when you take in a quiet gulp, lashes battling in malfunction. “Uhm, I have to ask… my roommate.”
“I’m sure she’ll have zero problem with it, noona. I’m confident nobody on campus can refuse us,” Jeongin reassures, glancing at the dribbling popsicle in your grip, fingers tight on the wooden stick. He sighs, digits digging into your wrist, stabilising your trembling hold. “Noona, look at the mess you’re causing,” he mutters, voice close to your ears. “It’s dripping everywhere, do you like it that way?”
Seungmin pats your head, because you seem on the verge of tears — eyes glossy, blinking to prevent anything from overflowing. It’s pathetic, he thinks he’s infatuated. “She must, Ayen, her hand is all sticky. Such a wet mess, it’s drooling onto your sheets.” he insinuates, forcing you to notice the blueish drops that stains your bed.
Your brain stops working altogether, voice staggering in an apology as you try to stand but they prevent you from doing so.
“Relax, we’ll clean it up for you.” Seungmin says, and Jeongin moves on the spot.
Plump lips meeting the veins on your wrist, a stark reminder of yesterday that you hardly forgot, and now they’re adding new material to your poor mind.
“No, no,” you beg in a whimper, embarrassed with the moan that leaves you when his tongue darts at the liquid, licking a long stripe from the bottom of your wrist to your palm. He holds eye contact, Seungmin shutting off any attempt of you averting your gaze. “I’m sorry–”
Seungmin tilts his head, lifting your chin to gaze at where he’s standing above your lying figure, “Don’t be.” he smiles, “this is out of free will.”
He lays back when Jeongin’s done with the cleanup. The younger holds the popsicle before you, they can practically feel your heat from here. Fuck, you must be soaking from this alone. It takes a lot not to pounce on you already, but they’ll wait. Feed you whatever you desire, mess with your pretty little head till you’re left a pleading mess.
That’s the plan.
“Say aah,” Jeongin guides, tutting when you shake your head.
“Demonstrate,” Seungmin suggests, tone smug. “It’s probably her first time.”
You whine, the world tight and dizzy. Your head pivots, the situation too overwhelming for you to react. Their words are dirty, it feels double meaning, but Jeongin’s mouth parting around the popsicle in your hand has you buffering. Thighs pressing uncomfortable, certain that the pool of desire in your stomach is visible in your body language.
“Pay attention,” he reminds you, like he was instructing a class. His tongue peeks out, catching the drop that was threatening to spill as he runs his mouth all the way up to the top. He lays his tongue flat on the underside, hypnotizing when he sucks on it with a hard pop that nearly breaks the desert. You picture that was your clit instead, the same plump lips wrapping around your lips and… No. This is wrong, but it feels so right.
“It’s sweet, you should try it.” Jeongin smirks, his dimples popping as he brings the spit covered desert to your lips. “Please?” his cock jumps when you part your lips tentatively, a small — gaping hole for him to push the popsicle in. It leaks at the corners of your mouth, gasping when he shoves it deeper.
Seungmin grunts, a pang of nasty jealousy ringing through at the sight of Jeongin using you like this. He heaves up, tugging closer to your body — arm snugging your waist to get you to fit into his body. It’s haste, sudden enough for Jeongin not to get the chance for a response. “Let me have a taste.”
You’re about to hand him the popsicle, but he gets rid of it before you. Confused when his lips suddenly collide with yours with a, “hmph—!”
He kisses you like he missed the sensation of you in his mouth. The threads of patience left in him finally snapping. His lips are as you remember them, delicate but harsh. The taste of blueberry on your lips has his moaning in your mouth, parting your lips with his tongue, licking at the inside of your warmth — careful not to miss any drop of sugar.
Jeongin’s grip on your thighs tightens, blunt nails digging onto the fabric and you wince in pained pleasure, escaping from Seungmin’s ministration for a fraction of second. Long enough for Jeongin to react, he doesn’t wait politely in order to push your head towards him. Lips molding into place — harder than Seungmin — more teeth and possession enrobing the kiss, drawing a high pitched sound from him when your fingers instinctively lace through his silky locks; brushing his scalp in your search for support. To tug at something and cling to it.
He invades your senses, body mushed to yours, sandwiching you between the two of them as his hands trail past your thighs to the button of your pants. He stops on the seam, thumb absently tracing in the ridge of the circle. Seungmin's breath is on your neck, brushing off the strands of hair to pamper the skin with reminders of him.
Jeongin pulls your wrist towards him, kissing your palm before moving to yank off your cardigan. Seungmin takes the hint, deft fingers hurrying to undo the buttons attaching the wool altogether, groping your tits in the process. A sense of urgency hits you as they begin undressing you, throbbing under their hungry demeanor.
“Wait– Wait!” you choke out, hands flailing forward. They pause, wearing an expression that screams nobody has ever told them to wait before. Confused, though they're considerate enough to give you an inch of distance to gather your thoughts. “I've never…” you admit, abashed. “I’ve never done any of this…”
A second passes, and you cuss yourself for it. Shouldn't you have said that? — did you ruin the mood?
However, Jeongin spreads your legs wider, his grip softens small enough to go unnoticed. “Is that an issue?” he asks, “Do you want us to stop?”
He's asking you if it's an issue. You're thrown aback, lips swollen and jaw slack. You had thought they'd take you for an inexperienced loser — to make fun of you, and it to be their worry. Not yours.
Stop?
“No,” you reply, almost scared that they'll pull away. “Don't stop, please.”
Seungmin inhales against your nape, teeth nibbling down. Teasing. “You know, yn,” he begins, palms trailing across your body slower than earlier, this time savouring the shape of you in his grip. “I've been wanting to fuck you for a while, just couldn't tell why.” you shiver, and he smiles. “Weird, because I can always tell why I want someone. Maybe, I know why now.”
Your mouth dries, or salivates?
Mind too clouded with a simple question to care, “Why…?”
He laughs, quiet, scarcely a blow of air. “That's a secret between me and Jeongin.”
Your buttons come off. Revealing your bare shoulders when the cardigan gets thrown loose somewhere on the floor along with the forgotten popsicle, all that's left is a soaking mess of it. A mirror of you if they choose to dive their hands a bit further. But they can already tell. They know.
Jeongin's knee nestles between your parted thighs, and you close them on him by reflex. He groans as the meat rubs on his aching cock with the help of Seungmin's grip grinding you on his friend's leg. “Say,” Jeongin rasps by your lips, drawing the sweetest breathless noises out of you from the motion on your clothed clit. “Do you want me or him?”
You wonder if your hearing is playing on you, eyes hovering to Seungmin's briefly because you're not positive of what Jeongin could mean by that. If that's a proper question to answer, or a trap–
“Go ahead,” Seungmin assures, “answer his question.”
No matter how much you dwell on it, the beats that pass. You've got only one answer on the tip of your tongue, “Both– I can't choose… please,” you're putty in their hands, eyes closing in a plea, “don't make me choose...”
“Such a greedy girl,” Seungmin whispers, tracing the edge of your shirt. “You heard her, Ayen-ah. Stop being a possessive asshole.”
Jeongin's smile falters, painfully aware of the playground Seungmin is setting. He'll say that, then do the exact same thing he's reprimanding Jeongin from doing.
Like the dirty lying cheater he is, it's just a game of belonging to him. No — to them. He's not so innocent either, it's not the first time this is happening. For whatever reason, he's not too fond of sharing this once. You're such a fascinating little thing, he wants to keep you to himself.
Not long before the rest starts meddling, then it'll be a game of chess. The thought alone has his skin prickly, but for now, maybe he'll give you what you want.
If you want Seungmin too — then so be it. Playing dirty is not unfamiliar in the house; to hand you each of your fantasies one by one, till you're unable to digest anything else but him.
“Take her clothes off, take it–” Jeongin snarls. Maybe he's a little angry, it diffuses on the way he reaches for the zipper of your pants, flying it open and a pop of buttons. Seungmin complies, much needing to see more of you as he lifts your arms. Ripping the shirt off your head with impatience, leaving your chest bare except for the lace of your bra. Seungmin shudders at the sight of your cleavage above your shoulder, salivating when you hurry to cover yourself so timidly as if there aren't several deranged materials hidden in every corner of this bedroom.
You're an iceberg he's willing to dive under the sea to discover, to get you to spill all your dirty secrets by the time he's done with you. To coax it out, along with the whimpers you let out when he removes your arms from your chest. “Don't hide, show me.”
“You're pretty like this. Pretty face,” his hand trails to your back, unclasping your bra with a click. “Pretty tits, I bet you've got a pretty cunt too.”
Your face heats impossibly, as if you weren't already scorching before. Just then, Jeongin's thumbs lock on the waistline of your pants, rolling them off by jerking your hips forward. Panties are the sole thing left on you, and you could die from humiliation. Your skin flushes with heat, burning.
Seungmin lays back, pulling you with him till you're up against his bare chest. Naked flesh-on-flesh. He could lick at your goosebumps.
Jeongin crawls in front of your curved knees, palms clasping on your knees, easily using his strength to open your thighs. “You're dripping,” he points out upon seeing the damp spot on the gusset of the thin cloth, hardly providing ample coverage to your aching cunt.
“Don't say that–” you whine, lips pressing when he runs a thumb on your covered slick, the cotton clings to your labia. “Oh…” the sensation's already different from what you're used to from a swipe alone, the pleasure incomparable to what you've felt before.
“So responsive, we've barely touched you,” he praises, nuzzling the side of your face. His behavior could be mistaken for affection if you didn't know better.
This got to be a figment of your imagination. A made up situation in your brain, but their touches are hard enough to seem real. Subconsciously answering your question when Seungmin pinches your thigh, earning an involuntary grind from you that has him gasping for more. Needy since the last time you left them blue-balled at seven in the morning.
“More,” you plead and they scoff. Mirroring each other's actions.
“Already? Thought it'd take more to make you beg,” Seungmin amuses, finger curling on the edge of your panties when he abruptly pulls onto the elastic before snapping it back to your skin. It stings, and he's having fun doing it again. He's mean, catching you off guard when the next tug tears the fabric — ignoring the hitch in your voice. “See how easy that was?” he taunts, eyes landing onto Jeongin's who's bluntly ignoring him; busy tearing the broken fabric from you completely. Bare pussy catching the cold air from the crack of your ajar window.
Rough thumb makes contact with your clit, hips jolting in his direction with an, “Ah–!”
Jeongin drinks in your reaction, lowering his head till he's met with your leaking cunt. He breathes in, taking in your scent, letting himself get familiar with it. Digits run across your slit, coating them with your fluids, teasing the entrance. He lifts his vision — challenging Seungmin's. “Hyung,” his tone is sharp around the edges, cutting through with irritation, “you're fucking annoying me.”
“Am I?” Seungmin coos, mocking the one between your legs as he helps him spread them wider, holding you nice and open for Jeongin. “You should be more grateful, you know? I'm letting you have this. Let you kiss her first, let you tag along. Brought you here with me,” he replies, fist snaking to your bare pussy, fingers forcing a V to spread your lips apart for Jeongin. “I'm giving you another opportunity, and you're complaining?”
“Funny,” Jeongin chuckles, spitting onto your gaping hole. “You think I'm doing this because you're giving it to me,” a thick finger breaches you — sharp contrast to your own. “Her? You're giving her to me, hilarious.”
They're talking about you as if you aren't physically present, you might be, but your mind is elsewhere. Guilty of how much desire this twists in your stomach, heels digging into the mattress in forbidden pleasure when he adds a second one. Fingers that have been plaguing your mind since the first time you sat across the same table, so deep inside that he's hitting that tender spot without trouble.
“Jeongin–” you cry out, and he smirks in temporary triumph, pussy gushing against his fingers. He curves them, watching how your head throws back onto Seungmin's shoulder, thighs quivering shut if it wasn't from the shared grips holding you in place.
“That's it, cry out my name,” he encourages, sweetly planting a kiss to your clit. Drawing a high pitched squeal out of you, parting his fingers — forcing you to take the stretch. “You gon cum from that? From me scissoring you wide?” he asks and you nod feverishly, tilting to the edge shamefully fast.
But you don't think you've got any dignity left in you when you allow them to talk to you — about you like this.
He licks a stripe down, warm tongue something you've never experienced in your life. The sound is obscene, lapping at your overflowing juices in wild excitement to get you to your peak.
He neglects your clit at first, focusing on gathering the spilling drops with his wet muscle, darting on your lips in sloppy open-mouthed kisses. Enveloping his mouth above your spasming hole, the tip of his tongue inches inside. Seungmin's thumb suddenly makes contact with your throbbing nub, applying just enough pressure in tight circles to bring you to the edge.
“Fuck– ahh!” you moan out, loud — confident that the neighboring students can hear you across the dorms’ thin walls. “Stop–! Can't—” you squeak when neither of them halts, continuing their abuse on your sensitive pussy, snapping shut around Jeongin's head as he slurps your release, notorious sounds escaping his mouth. Moaning at your taste.
“Just like that, you sound so adorable.” Seungmin praises, sitting you upright with him. His hands find your hips, guiding you to lean forward on your knees. Jeongin maneuvers you from the front, lowering you so that you're at level with his prominent bulge. He's straining his pants, the fabric tight.
You aren't distracted for long with Seungmin's grind on your rear. Palms flat on your bare ass, kneading the flesh adoringly. “Shit,” you both curse when his erection makes contact with your slippery cunt, dirtying the fabric of his pants. “Looks like I'd fit right in,” he mutters under his breath, spreading your cheeks wide to hump your ass in dirty, languid strokes. “Don't you think so too?”
He's talking to either of you, his tone ever condescending.
The tension of their passive argument lingers when Jeongin takes hold of your hair, grip digging in your scalp. Holding you down to the roots, hunching you to the bulge stretching his pants. “Blow me,” he commands. Bold. “Moan against my dick, that's where I wanna hear you.”
You fumble with the zipper. You're shaking too much but it seems like you're the only person here who’s getting bothered by it. This is a sick fantasy. This is…
However.
He rolls his pants down, boxers quickly following suit. He's aching, torturously hard and sore. He needs you now, and the sight of him being freed is enough to shut your mind. You stare at him, big wide eyes wondering what to do next. Even though you know, you’re scared of doing it wrong. He sighs shakily. You’re going to kill him, he might cum from you staring alone. “Noona,” the nickname has your insides knotting this time, pussy begging to be filled just as your mouth. “Come on, open up for me.”
He taps the tip against your lower lip, smudging the precum beautifully on the soft tissue. You open, welcoming him in with a testing lick. Moaning at the salty taste of him on your tongue. He’s addictive, licking off the beads that threaten to spill from his tip earnestly. “Yeaahhh, like that. Use your lips.” he groans, a trail of sweat inching down his neck when you wrap your pretty lips around the crown. Clumsily circling the shape with your tongue. “Oh, oh.” your moves are amateur, but the eagerness in which you’re trying makes his balls tighten. Perhaps you’re still timid. It’s fine, he’ll help you learn.
Using the roots of your head, he pushes you forward slowly, taking his time to feed you inch by inch. Stopping when a wet gag keens from your throat, drool pooling at the seam of your mouth, dribbling past your chin. “Slower, yeah?” He stills when you nod, doing your best to breathe through your nose like you’ve seen on online forums. It’s more difficult than you thought, somehow, you can smell the taste of him up your nostrils.
You’re persisting to accommodate when a sudden intrusion jolts your lashes open. A muffled mewl echoing past his cock at the feel of something lengthy and searing brushes on your clit. Your hips grind against it involuntarily, rolling back to meet the upcoming thrusts on your cunt. The image of Seungmin coming back to you. You falter, and Seungmin is the one who kneads your waist, fingers doughing with the surface of your tummy. “Keep sucking him–” he pants. Bending forward, his arm rests under your stomach, two fingers diving inside without restraint. “Vaccuming me inside, think you’re ready?” he hisses through his teeth, thrusting his digits in just to test the waters before pulling out.
You weren’t ready.
He tried to show you mercy, starting off at a horrendously steady pace. Kind enough to. Past the tip and it begins to burn, the stretch wider—lenghtier than fingers. “God,” he strangles. You’re hugging him so tightly, snug and warm. He never wants to leave, etching crescent marks on your skin, “should’ve fuckass bent you over the first time I saw you–”
Every whimper you make vibrates up Jeongin’s cock, and he knows that he should separate — to give you time to get used to taking cock, but a wave of selfishness prevents him from doing as such. If anything, it entices him to force himself deeper. Greedily shoving his length down your throat. You gag, coughing around him as your vision blurs from the double sensation. Seungmin bottoms out, hitting spots that you weren’t aware of existing. “Mhmph–!” is all you can muster, palms landing flat on Jeongin’s spread thighs in your struggle to handle any of this.
They weren’t fond of teamwork, but now they’re moving in tandem. A silent agreement coursing through when they start to thrust, not aiming to be nice anymore with the curses that fly past their lips. Handling you with little care — Jeongin drags your head all the way off, leaving your mouth gaping and craving oxygen — barely a breath before he plunges back in, coercing you to develop a gag reflex on your first time.
Meanwhile Seungmin pounds your behind, ignoring the dangerous quiver of your thighs, holding your legs open with a hand. His other palm lays flat on your stomach, applying a delicious pressure that has you seeing tunnel vision. He’s ramming his way in, breaking your wretched virgin pussy. He’s not going to last long with the sight of you choking on his friend’s cock, each of his erratic thrusts making you throat him deeper. Forcing whimpers out of his chest when you clench — hard from your impending orgasm. His angelic voice fills your mind when he presses his bare chest to your slippery back, giving your clit a harsh slap just to hear similar sounds that might mask his own from you — or Jeongin, both.
You can’t voice a warning when your mouth is stuffed full, instead hurryingly tapping Jeongin’s thighs, making him stutter in his pace to observe your face. Alas, it’s too late, Seungmin can already feel you creaming him, pussy gripping him like a vice. “Fuck, yn–” he moans, balls throbbing harshly that he has to forcingly pull out. Warm hand instantly replacing your much favoured cunt, jerking himself off — wincing at the strokes like it tortured him not to do this inside instead. He threads onto that sanity, thumb applying pressure on the underside of his tip, releasing hot ropes across your back. Tainting you with him.
Jeongin immediately abandons the confinement of your mouth, throwing you flat on the sheets. Your tiny, surprised, “oomph–” is adorable, but he’s got no time to dwell on it. Seeking comfort between the solace of your thighs, knocking them open. He aligns himself, assuming that you can take it now — plunging inside without warning signs. “Wait—!” you struggle, face contorting to pleasured overstimulation, extremely sensitive. “I can’t take no more–”
He cradles your face, a brief attempt of comfort as he leans down to suck on your neck. “You can,” he mutters, biting down. “Just a little more.”
Seungmin takes hold of your jaw, directing your head to face him. His lips meet yours in an awkward, upside-down kiss. The position has your teeth clicking, causing a drooling mess on your chin. Dizzy with how he’s stealing your breath. The whine of his name pushing out of your mouth earns a low grunt from him. Your eyes squeeze, lips smacking and skin slapping echoing throughout the corners of the room. Overwhelming, you can’t stop kissing him, cocking your head to the side to give him better access. Running onto cloud nine by sharing his saliva when he sucks on your tongue harshly.
Jeongin grows desperate, the bites on your flesh turning more cruel in his ride. The taste of that familiar high on the tip of his tongue, obsessed with every pant you take, obsessed with how your nails rake at the muscles on his back. Your stomach contracts under him, and he applies more of his weight, crushing your body in order to blend the two of you together. “Gonna cum, fuck.” he whines, tone taking a higher pitch. Nearly slipping out with how you’re wetting him, not wanting to let him go. He knows you’re close too. He sits up, dragging your legs above his shoulders, supporting you there. Sharing a brief eye contact with Seungmin who takes the hint — three fingers circle your clit in quick eights. You thrash violently, something uncanny from the last two orgasms approaching. You flail your arms, but Seungmin takes hold of them with one hand, pinning your wrists above your head despite your distressed attempts to slow down.
“Feels weird, please–” you shake, tears coating your cheeks as they whisper quick ‘come on’ in your ears. Drawing you impossibly close when the thread snaps — the coil coming undone.
You’re a fountain, juices running out like tap water, horrified when they drag it out. It won’t stop, and they’re gratifying in it. “My god, she’s squirting all over.” Seungmin comments, unable to find the controlled edge in his tone. You cry from shame, though, that’s exactly what you’ve been dying for. Jeongin finally pulls out, bobbing his hand up and down his cock and he spurts onto your stomach, painting you white.
Breathing heavily, a silence falls through. Taking in your dishevelled state, you can barely move a hair. Muscle spasming lazily, fingers twitching from creeping tiredness. You still are in disbelief that this just happened. Not earlier, and certainly not when they start to stand, looking around for something to wipe you with.
A faint, exhausted smile tugs at your lips the second they leave the room.
i spent forever trying to find this ask in my inbox bruh.. but omg i hope i did an okay job w this.. lol
you only noticed it in hindsight. maybe the moment he realized how good you looked in lace, or maybe the first time you let him finish inside without saying a word. either way, something had shifted in hyunjin. and now it was all he could think about.
“you gonna let me fill you up again, baby?” he muttered against your neck, his hand pressed to your lower belly, feeling the way his cock throbbed deep inside you. “look at you. so fuckin’ full already and still crying for more.”
you were barely able to nod, legs trembling around his waist, nails clawing into his back like it would anchor you to the present. but hyunjin wasn’t interested in holding you steady. he wanted to feel you fall apart again and again— sloppy and used and so full of him you could feel it dripping down your thighs before he even pulled out. that was his favorite part. watching it spill out of you. watching your cunt twitch and flutter like it missed him already.
“you’re gonna take it again,” he said, pulling back just enough to watch the way you clenched, dragging his cock out until only the tip remained before slamming back in. your whole body jolted. “gonna keep takin’ it ‘til you’re leaking all over my sheets. don’t care if i have to fuck a baby into you to make you stop squirming.”
it wasn’t just the way he said it— it was the look in his eyes. that hazy, hungry, animalistic kind of love, the kind that made your stomach flip and your brain fog over. you’d never felt more desired, more claimed. especially when he reached down and spread your lips just to watch himself fuck into you, groaning when he saw how creamy you were around him.
“fuck,” he hissed, hips stuttering. “you hear that? you’re soaked, baby. all for me. bet your body knows who you belong to.”
your moan was helpless, breathy, broken— because god, you did. you belonged to hyunjin in every sense. especially like this, legs thrown over his shoulders, wrists pinned above your head, body limp and flushed from the fourth, maybe fifth? orgasm he’d pulled out of you. every inch of you was slick and shaking, overstimulated and pliant beneath him.
“you want more?” he whispered, brushing his lips over yours, sweat dripping from his temple. “wanna be so full you feel me for days? hm? want daddy to give you one more?”
you nodded, eyes glassy, tears on your cheeks and a ruined moan stuck in your throat.
“good fuckin’ girl.”
he came with a growl, pressing his cock so deep you swore you could feel it in your stomach, grinding slow as his release flooded you. even when you started to cry from how sensitive you were, he didn’t stop— not until he was sure every last drop was tucked inside you, sealed with one last rough thrust, his hand flat on your belly.
“how many times, baby?” he panted, kissing your neck between bites. “how many times do i have to fuck it into you before it sticks?”
and when your body arched into his, whimpering something soft and needy, hyunjin only smirked and rolled his hips again.
“guess we’ll find out.”
let’s pretend this ask wasn’t from a million months ago, i js rlly wanted to answer sum of these bc i haven’t posted in a while 💔💔💔
imagine the thought of u calling w a friend while han is eating u out under the blankets..
this was supposed to just be a normal movie night with your boyfriend. at least that’s what you had in mind— popcorn, netflix, maybe some cuddling or a nap halfway through if you got too comfy. but you should’ve known better. jisung never makes it through a full movie. never without touching you. and tonight proves to be no different.
“mm, you’re warm,” he murmured ten minutes in, voice muffled against your shoulder, hands already sliding beneath the blankets draped over both your laps. “just wanna cuddle.”
but jisung doesn’t cuddle. he gropes. he rubs. he drags those greedy fingers up the inside of your thigh like he’s starving and your pussy’s the only thing on the menu. by the time you realize where it’s going, it’s too late— he’s already coaxed your sleep shorts down to your knees and buried his head under the covers, mouthing at your inner thigh like he needs to taste you just to breathe.
and then, of course, your phone rings.
“answer it,” jisung whispers, lips pressed to your cunt. “don’t be rude.”
you glare down at the lump beneath the blanket. “you’re unbelievable.”
“you love it.”
you do, unfortunately. even as your hand trembles picking up the call, even as your best friend’s voice chirps on speaker, even as jisung starts licking slow stripes up your folds like he’s doing it just to be mean. you try to keep your voice level, biting the inside of your cheek, answering questions with little hums and nods like he’s not sucking your clit into his mouth right now.
it’s a losing battle.
because jisung gets off on this— gets off on making you squirm, on hearing your breath hitch in the middle of a sentence, on the soft shlick noises filling the space between your friend’s rambling. his tongue is fast and relentless, curling just right, circling and flicking and sucking like he knows how close you are already. your legs are shaking, thighs clenching, and jisung just holds you open, palms firm against your hips as he moans into your pussy like you’re the one giving him head.
and then it happens.
he wraps his lips around your clit, sucks so hard you nearly see stars, and your whole body jerks. a noise slips out of you— high-pitched and not normal. somewhere between a squeak and a strangled gasp. your friend pauses mid-sentence.
“…are you okay?”
“mhm! m’fine! just- hiccups,” you lie, voice cracking as you slap a hand over your mouth, toes curling in the couch cushion. your other hand’s gripping the blanket, pulling it tighter over jisung’s head as if that’ll stop him from tongue-fucking you like he’s in love with it.
he doesn’t stop.
you end the call a minute later with a rushed excuse and hang up just in time to hear jisung laugh into your pussy.
“did you just squeal like a dying mouse?” he grins, emerging from under the blanket with your slick all over his mouth, flushed and breathless and so fucking smug. “baby, that was so cute. do it again.”
“shut the fuck up—”
“no, no, i’m serious,” he interrupts, grabbing your hips and yanking you further down the couch. “make that noise again. i’m gonna keep eating until you do.”
pairing: nerd!kim seungmin x f!reader genre/tags: smut, oral (f. receiving), fingering, squirting, nerd talk, idk what this is man
[ note. ] — this is hella short fwkdjdks but i’ve had this in my drafts for a hot minute and felt like posting it so ;p
you’re not even sure how you got here— splayed across seungmin’s creaky dorm bed, thighs pinned back by his scrawny arms, while he’s halfway buried in between your legs. his dorm smells faintly of coffee and the plastic tang of electronics, textbooks stacked haphazardly on his desk with highlighted notes spilling out of them. his glasses slide down the slope of his nose everytime he moans, but he doesn’t bother fixing them, too entranced by what he’s doing.
your skirt is hiked up to your waist, panties hanging somewhere forgotten on the floor, and seungmin looks like he’s studying for an exam he’s desperate to ace. his messy dark hair keeps tickling the insides of your thighs, dampened by sweat and your slick, and you swear he’s drooling more than he ever does over the ramen cups piled up by his nightstand.
“fascinating,” he mutters, licking a slow stripe up your slit, his voice low like he’s reading observations into a recorder. his nose nudges your clit until your hips jolt violently against him, and you can hear the way he breathes heavier at the reaction. “your body responds to direct pressure here at… what? less than three seconds? consistent stimulus equals immediate twitch reflex.. interesting.”
you choke out his name, your face burning, embarrassed heat flooding you from head to toe. “seung- god- stop talking like that—” you croak halfway through because his tongue is right back on you, unrelenting.
“control group would disagree,” he deadpans, like he’s actually defending his thesis. his tone is clinical, but the way he seals his mouth over your clit is nothing short of feral. he sucks, flicking his tongue in precise little circles, and your gasps makes his eyes flutter shut. the corners of his glasses misted instantly, and he slightly pulls back only to come up for air, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your drooling cunt.
“the data is clear. you taste… fuck—” his nerdy facade cracks, shredding into something guttural, a raw groan punching out of him as his chest heaves against the mattress, “—sweet as sugar.”
the sound of him moaning while saying it is humiliating and addictive all at once. his hands grip your thighs tighter, knuckles pale as if he’s holding you open for dissection, except he’s the one falling apart. he pushes two fingers inside without warning, the intrusion sharp and sudden, curling them ruthlessly until you’re keening. your hands fly up to his hair, yanking, but he only groans louder at the twinge of pain.
“see?” he pants, and you realize with horror and arousal that he’s still narrating, voice shaking with exhilaration but steady in its nerdy cadence. “every contraction around my fingers is another point of evidence. repeated pattern. measurable. predictable.” his pace is relentless, the thrust of his fingers perfectly angled as if he calculated it ahead of time, tongue and lips locking you down at the same time.
you feel your orgasm wash over you before you can even warn him, your whole body convulsing, and wetness gushes down his wrist in a sudden torrent. his eyes go wide, lips shiny, glasses completely fogged up. he stares at the mess you’re making with the awe of someone witnessing a chemical reaction for the first time.
“hypothesis confirmed,” he pants, and the smugness is ruined by the cracked, wrecked edge of his tone. his fingers are still fucking you open as you squirt again, testing the limits of your body. “multiple consecutive releases are achievable under consistent oral application. remarkable. oh my god—”
he moans low, like he can’t help it, tongue latching back onto your clit just to prove his point, dragging you through another wave until you’re sobbing his name into the stale atmosphere of his dorm. every thrust of his fingers hits deeper, rougher, and your legs are trembling so hard you feel like you’ll split apart.
he only pulls back when your thighs can’t hold still anymore, shaking too violently, threatening to knock his glasses clean off. he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, spit and slick smeared across his chin, his lips red and puffy from working you over. cheeks flushed a tint of pink, chest heaving, he stares at you like you’re the most important discovery of his life.
“conclusion?” he murmurs, sounding rougher than you’ve ever heard him before, “you’re the best experiment i’ve ever run.”
after weeks of interviews and increasingly concerning eyewitness reports, this newsroom is prepared to release its latest collection of stories.
sources describe incidents involving unexpected encounters, questionable decisions, unresolved tension, and behaviour that experts have classified as “deeply unprofessional”. while details remain under review, readers should be advised that the following reports contain varying levels of drama and scandal.
readers are encouraged to review all tags and content warnings before proceeding. this newsroom remains committed to thorough coverage and accepts no responsibility for any attachments or emotional investments formed during the course of this release.
FEATURED REPORTS
📰 OH, WE’RE LIVE TOGETHER
minho x reader
the rumours about you and minho have been around for a while, you never confirmed them and he never denied them. all it takes is one livestream together for everyone watching to realise the rumours were true and to leave them wanting more
📰 GYM CRUSH PREMIUM
changbin x reader
there are some things you should never do such as: having a crush on the owner of your gym, accidentally discovering said gym owner is a camboy, and touching yourself to said camboy and his livestreams. unfortunately for you, you’ve already failed all three
📰 BREAKING NEWS: I’M AN IDIOT
seungmin x reader
sweet and innocent seungmin fell for a girl he wished he could have and he also became obsessed with a girl he didn’t know. some secrets aren’t meant to stay hidden and he is about to learn that the hard way
📰 THE ROOMMATE PARADOX
felix x reader
there’s a version of you that only exists online and there’s a version of felix that only exists behind a screen. neither of you has ever said anything about it but living together changes everything and in the end, something has to give
📰 A GUIDE TO MAKE A FRIENDSHIP WEIRD
jeongin x reader
home alone, a shocking reveal, and unresolved feelings lead to a facetime with your best friend jeongin that should’ve ended after the first two minutes. and if we add a bit of alcohol to the mix, what could possibly go wrong?
📰 WELL, THAT GOT OUT OF HAND
han x reader
tuition is really expensive, so expensive that when your friends joke about you and han doing a livestream together to get money, you actually consider doing it. it’s just one livestream with your best friend so you both can get some cash, a stupid idea that might become the best one you’ve ever had
📰 FANCY SEEING YOU HERE
hyunjin x reader
moving in with your best friend changbin and his ridiculously attractive roommate hyunjin is already dangerous enough, but when you discover what his favourite activity is, your curiosity leads you to some incredible places, like his bedroom or his bed
📰 EXTRA HOT
chan x reader
chan likes two things a little too much: the pretty barista who always smiles at him when he sees him and a mysterious camgirl who keeps him awake at night. that’s bound to end well
if you want me to add you to the taglist of this event, please comment on this post
you and jisung have been bestfriends for years — you do everything together, and when you both take an interest in minho, a friend of yours, well logically, you both go for it — together!
contains .ᐟ.ᐟ › mxm (making out), tit play, oral (both rec), handjob, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, cumming untouched, sweet aftercare (eli special), not proofread, we die like slexie.
scan here for group masterlist → 𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 ˎˊ˗
You and Jisung never had a typical relationship.
Sure — you're best friends, you've gone through a lot together. College, that first job, second — everything.
Through countless break ups, often lead on by the fact of how close you are, boyfriends and girlfriends of both of you not particularly understanding that you both are just friends.
Well — not just.
You never told them about the countless times in between relationships, when you're both drunk, hell even when you're not.
Nobody knows, but everyone guesses, suspects anyways. Anyone who meets you both assumes your dating, you say you aren't but make no moves to prove them wrong.
Everyone in both of you groups both knew the weird dynamic between you, new people tried to understand but quickly gave up.
Until Minho.
Minho, a work friend of Jisung, quickly infuriating the group, he's great, weird in a way that draws you in, handsome in a way words cant describe.
You're not saying you're a mind reader but you are definitely catching a vibe instantly.
The moment Jisung introduced Minho to you, you notice. The glaces that linger moments too long, the awkward laugh Jisung lets out only with you usually.
It's not jealousy of Jisung — no, more envy.
Because despite this weird dynamic with Jisung, you care about him, you want him. It's why no relationship truly lasts because all you believed you needed was each other — maybe you were wrong.
Jisung on the other hand notice things too, he knew you and Minho well, you both were the closest people to him in his life and he catches on quickly.
Minho, who typically doesn't start conversations out of the blue, always does with you, paying extra attention, nodding along.
Now Jisung would never say anything, no he doesn't want to bring it up because what if he's wrong — or worse, right?
Because Minho isn't like anyone else you would date, he would stick around because he understands to an extent your relationship with Jisung so he wouldn't be threatened right — that's why all your previous relationships ended, because they were insecure but what if he loses you —
Okay, now Jisung said he wouldnt mention it to Minho but you — you were his best friend of course he was going to tell you!
A random Sunday night is when it all clicked in both of your heads, both of you feeling things, silly doubts and one common thing — you both wanted Minho, and each other.
So you plotted, poorly, with no actual plan — basically just going off booze and a whim.
A 'strategically' planned night out, Jisung said it was fool proof but you cant help but be apprehensive.
You randomly messaged Minho, who replied instantly in your little three person group chat you made awhile ago.
Somehow all of your friends couldn't make it so it was just you, Jisung and Minho.
This of course made so much sense in Jisung's mind, you couldn't fight him on it.
At the bar you're focused, well as focused as you can be while slightly tipsy, not drinking a lot as you know what's hopefully going to happen.
You're at the bar, grabbing a round for the three of you, Minho yet to question why its just the three of you so far. When you notice they arent there — looking around at the near by tables to check that maybe you were just losing your mind but no, they weren't anywhere.
Checking over the obvious places, calling out their names you hesitantly check the males bathroom, not in the mood to get flashed, what you find is so much better.
Jisung pressed against the bathrooms sink, his lips attached to Minho's, way too lost in the moment to notice you right away, his hands tangled in his hair, Minho has his knee pressed between Jisung's thighs keeping them parted, faintly hearing a moan escape Jisung's lips.
Only once they hear the bathroom door close do they freeze, looking at you standing in the doorway, Minho looking shocked, a bit unravelled, Jisung however looks so far gone, his hair messed up and lips pink and glossy.
Almost like time stilled for a moment, all outside noises quietening for a second. Only when you smile a bit, taking in the sight of them do they seem to regain functionality.
"You started without me Sungie?" You drag out the question with an almost whine, Jisung lets out a choked moan, his grip loosening on Minho.
Minho, ever the quick one, catches on instantly. Sucking in a shaky breath before pulling from Jisung, not without a small whine in protest.
"What is wrong with you both." His voice still edging on confusion, laced with something more. You cant help but glace at Jisung than back at Minho.
"I guess you're gonna have to try and find out, hm?"
The ride home was blurry, calling an uber was the safest bet, none of you truly sober enough to drive.
The ride back felt torturously long, settling on your apartment as it was the closest. Stuck snug between both of the guys felt like heaven and hell, Jisung's leg drumming up and down anxiously, Minho's almost stoic expression making both of you confused and slightly turned on but we dont talk about that.
The feeling of being literally in between both of them makes your brain go haywire, swirling with all of the possibilities of when you get into the apartment, the excitement, the thrill.
Unconsciously you start clenching your thighs together, of course Minho notices, the guy notices everything about you.
The 20 minute drive felt like an hour, the warmth almost unbearable.
Finally when you arrive, you're suddenly thankful of the long walk, mad at the uber feeling like forever but the reality slowly dawning on you.
Not fear per say, just adrenaline finally dropping.
Jisung is no better, suddenly both of your confident acts crumbling under the idea of Minho.
Minho — who has the straightest face, like he's going to a board meeting not a possible friendship altering encounter.
Entering the apartment should have felt relaxing but it didn't, Minho takes in the space briefly before he makes a long stride to you his hands cupping your face kissing you hard.
Instinctively you moan into the kiss, giving him all the control which you can feel the cocky bastard smile into the kiss. Your fingers curl into the loose fabric of his jacket noticing Jisung's presence lingering close by, hearing the familiar sound of his desperate whines.
Minho breaks the kiss suddenly, leaving you to try and chase his lips, the sudden feeling of disappointment is quickly fading when he pulls Jisung closer, tilting the younger boys jaw so he can kiss him, making sure you're watching.
A small gasped moan escapes from your throat, the sight of them making you go insane with need. A moment later the kiss ends, Jisung looking probably just as desperate and pathetic as you.
"Wheres your bedroom?" Minho's voice coming out broken, catching his breath from the kiss with Jisung. You quickly try and regain composer as you walk ahead of him, guiding him and Jisung to your bedroom.
You can barely process it, clothes ending up mindlessly anywhere on the floor, feeling exposed — all of your thoughts quickly silencing when Jisung kisses you, Minho watching right in front of you.
Your fingers curl into Jisung's hair, pulling helplessly on the strands, desperate for more. Jisung was just as needy, feeling his cock hard against your thigh, rutting against it.
"Poor Sungie has been suffering since the bar —" Minho's words suddenly breaking the silence, your lips still brushed against Jisung's, feeling his breathing grow unsteady. "Be a good girl and help our boy — gonna be good for me, kitty?"
As soon as the nickname falls from his lips you're gone, nodding helplessly at him. Your hands dragging over Jisung as Minho helps him lean against the pillows moving next to him, his thumbs grazing over Jisung's nipples, a breathy gasp from him.
Moving to sit between his legs, your hand slides over the plush of his thighs, enjoying the sweet sounds he's making — Jisung whose always been sensitive everywhere basically.
Slowly your fingers drift to his cock — your thumb tracing over his sensitive tip, gliding over the slit, smearing the cum down his cock.
Before Jisung can even make a proper sound Minho's on him, his lips attaching to Jisung's, Minho's tongue gliding over his bottom lip before his tongue meets his.
Your hand glides up his cock, your thumb pressing against his lip, briefly looking up at him before you lick the head.
His shallow moans muffled by Minho, you can feel heat pooling between your legs at the sight, quickly you wrap your lips around his cock, bobbing your head gagging slightly when he bucks up into your mouth, forcing his cock deeper into you.
Before you can process Minho's hand tangles into your hair pulling you off Jisung's cock. His thumb swipes over your bottom lips, collecting all the spit that gathered from sucking Jisung off, pushing his thumb into your mouth, pressing it against your tongue.
Instinctively you suck, moaning around his thumb, Jisung watches with huge eyes, letting out a strangled sound. Minho however looks pleased, pulling his thumb from your mouth, his fingers brushing over your cheek, his lips so close to yours but he doesn't press them against yours yet.
"Lay down for me, kitty." His voice is barely above a whisper, quickly and haphazardly shift besides Jisung, your thigh pressed against his you're sitting so close.
Minho moves slowly in front of you, not hesitantly, calculated, likes he's trying to control the situation and you both to every degree.
His hands press against your knees, parting them — his eyes immediately drifting down to your exposed cunt, your slick coating your pussy, nearly dripping onto the mattress.
"Look at you — all that from watching me and Hannie?" He coos gently, his tone dripping with condescension.
You cant even muster out any words, a small sound escaping from your throat as Minho slips down onto his stomach, his hands perched directly on your thighs to keep you still and spread out for him.
Jisung is just watching this unfold, feeling his cock twitch as the view in front of him. Two of his best friends who he wants so bad — its genuinely his wet dream.
Minho's focused, his eyes trained on your pussy, watching as you clench around nothing — just as you're about to say something he's on you.
His tongue almost exploring, kitten licking over your cunt before licking a long stripe. Your hands instantly go to his hair, anchoring yourself.
His movements are precise, his tongue swiping over your clit teasingly before prodding at your soaked hole.
You're already embarrassingly close, Jisung and Minho can tell, almost as soon as you feel your orgasm building — Minho pulls away.
"What—" You barely even get one word out before Minho is on you, you can feel his tip slide up your cunt making you moan unexpectedly.
"Gonna be a good girl and put a show on for Sungie?" His eyes glace over at Jisung who somehow looks more wrecked than you.
Not really trusting your words you nod — feeling your thighs start to shake with anticipation.
Slowly Minho pushes in — he feels different than Jisung, longer but not as thick. Quickly he bottoms out, his breathing coming out ragged and uneven.
The feeling takes over you, small shaky moans leaving your lips, adjusting to him. Minho swipes his thumb over your perked nipples, distracting you from the stretch. Quickly The sting morphs into pleasure, arching into him as you squirm under his touch.
Jisung's eyes are trained on you, watching as Minho's cock slides in out of your wet cunt, listening to the mixed sounds of the wet sound and your sweet moans. He cant help but touch himself to the sight of you both.
Pressing his thumb directly over his sensitive tip, using the spit you left on him earlier to wet his cock, stroking his throbbing cock to you getting fucked.
Minho's thrusts are slow and deep, fucking into you like he's trying to mark you — and maybe he is.
"Look at you — both of you, acting pathetic after weeks of eye fucking me." Minho spits out, the sudden realisation that he knew. You can only moan in response, his thrusts growing sharper. "You act all innocent and guarded but you just needed me and Jisung to fuck you stupid, huh?" His words mocking you, leaving you to respond but you cant, his cock pistoling inside of you, hitting that gummy shot with insane precision.
Minho doesn't stop — finally getting to fuck you only turns him mean, his filter completely gone as he looks over at Jisung whose fisting his own cock. "What's the matter Sungie? Too busy being a desperate little slut — what, you get off on watching your best friends, fuck — Shit, she's so tight for us Ji, I think she can take both of us one day."
Minho is talking nonsense at this point, his head clouded with the feeling of your snug walls milking his cock.
Jisung is a pathetic moaning mess — everything is too much, your orgasm is building fast — the feeling oh Minho pounding into your sopping cunt, Jisung's moans echoing through the room mixed with yours.
Jisung can tell — the slight shift of your actions and knowing you all too well. His movements dont stop, reaching over to you — crashing his lips onto yours, swallowing all your sweet moans.
"Come on Hannie — you gonna cum for us?" Minho's voice grows even more ragged, shifting your leg over his arm to fuck you even deeper.
Jisung moans into your mouth, his hand twisting around his cock faster, his thumb swiping over the slit before letting out a silent cry, cumming hard.
"You wanna cum too, kitty? Wanna cum with Sungie — shit, so good for me go on, cum for me angel." Minho's thrusts grow sloppy, his own orgasm creeping up on him, the feeling of your tight walls sucking him in while Jisung is moaning his name.
Minho's words break you, spasming around him as your orgasm crashes over you — moaning desperately into Jisung's mouth, clawing into the sheet — his hair, anything as you ride out your orgasm.
Minho cums at the feeling of you cumming around his cock — his grip on your thighs tightening — letting out a string of groans as he fucks you through your orgasms filling you up — fucking his cum back into you.
Everything slows, everyone's senses dial down, the highs slowly fading. Minho pulls out slowly, watching as your cunt drips with the mixture of your cum.
Minho looks over at Jisung who is also looking at your glistening pussy, his eyes drifting to notice Jisung's cock, which is already half hard again.
"So desperate for our girl still, hm?" A cat like smirk forms on Minho's lips, teasing Jisung. "Wanna taste of her? Think you can handle it Ji?"
Jisung quickly perks up, a small whine escaping at the thought, quickly shifting to take Minho's spot between your legs, diving straight in.
Jisung quickly laps up all of yours and Minho's cum, moaning at the taste, his hips grinding into the mattress.
His tongue gliding over your clit, sucking it hard, moaning against your pussy.
Already so overstimulated from your previous orgasm, this one comes fast and hard — your thighs clenching around Jisung's head.
Jisung only moans at your thighs nearly crushing his head — his ruts into the bed only growing more desperate and needy.
Minho is watching closely, his eyes never straying from you and Jisung, his lips parted from how heavy he's breathing, almost memorised by you both.
Your orgasm comes crashing over you as Jisung sucks on your clit, moaning helplessly into your cunt.
Jisung sucks you through your orgasm, his own building fast, moaning pathetically into your pussy, mumbling sweet praises, the friction between his bare cock and the sheets forcing his own orgasm out of him.
Moments pass — Jisung hesitantly leaves your cunt, noticing how you twitched and probably were sore, resting his head on your thigh, catching his own mess.
Before you can realise Minho left the room, coming back quickly, his boxers back on as he kneels onto the mattress.
Silently helping you both put some clothes on, Minho puts Jisung's shirt on you while helping slide Jisung's boxers on. Handing both of you a glass of water, sitting in front of you, his eyes never leaving yours — unable to read what he's thinking.
Once Jisung basically chugs his drink, putting the glass onto the bedside table, he buries into your side, you take note of the small smile creeping up onto Minho's lips.
While buried into your side you play with his hair, brushing strands stuck to his forehead from his face when he mumbles into your shoulder.
Han is the type of guy to wake you up in the middle of the night — 2 a.m, 3 a.m? he doesn't care. he tried to, but he's not the most patient man out there.
He'll take in your drowsiness and tired grumbles. murmuring soft apologies in your ear; pressing gentle kisses to the curve of your neck; an attempt at buttering you up. hoping that maybe you'd notice the bulge pressing at your lower back and realize how horny he's been.
Han who shamelessly ruts against the swell of your ass, voice getting breather with each grind. begging you to please let him rid of your pants.
barely registering your answer, a nod is sufficient for him to tug the barrier off. keeping your panties on, he slides his cock between your folds, wetting your cum with his leaking precum.
Han who's a moaning mess just from gliding his cock back and forth on your now-soaked pussy. blabbering about how wet you are and to allow him inside already.
Han whose voice cracks into a whimper as you squeeze your thighs around him, trapping him into quick, shallow, thrusts. he nudges your clit with every jerk of hips, tilting your face towards him so that his mouth swallows your own quiet moans with a messy kiss.
Han who doesn't get the opportunity to slide inside before he's cumming all over your pussy, white stripes landing inside your panties, forming a sticky wet patch on the fabric. he's panting, fingers digging into your hips as he struggles to catch his breath.
Han who thanks you endlessly for this, yapping about how much he loves you and that you're the best in this world. slowly drifting back to sleep, pretending that he isn't going to wake you up soon again for another of his horny antics.
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other member ver: bangchan lee know changbin hyunjin han felix seungmin i.n
