It's the end of a long week and you're lying down on your boyfriend’s bed. The only source of light comes from the television, playing a random show neither of you are paying attention to. A faint, musky cologne scent mixed with his laundry detergent lingers in the room.
You lie on your back while Jungwon is splayed out on top of you. The lower part of his torso is wedged between your legs.
One of his hands is tightly interlocked with yours. Jungwon's face is squashed against your chest and you can see his back slowly rising and falling, the steady beating of your heart calming him.
As time goes on, Jungwon visibly relaxes, his body releasing tension from a long day of preparing for a comeback.
Your fingers gently run through his hair, careful not to tug on any knotted strands. When your nails and fingertips graze his scalp, he lets out a content sigh, his arm giving your waist a gentle squeeze.
When you glance down at his face, you notice the cheek resting on your chest is oddly squished from how tightly he’s holding the two of you together.
After a while, his breathing grows slower and more measured. You glance down at him to see his eyes shut, and his mouth slightly agape. A beatific look rests upon his face as he soundly sleeps against you.
𝓉𝓌:: oral(f), overstim, tongue piercing, fingering, lots of banter, teasing, jeongin is a freak, hair pulling, emo//alternative i.n, cursing, reader and i.n are childhood friends & in college
𝒶𝓃:: pls excuse me not being active at all bc there's sm happening in my life rn :P hope you enjoy!!
He didn’t tell you he got it at first. No, he let you find out on your own.
The first time you saw it, you almost brushed it off — a tiny flash of silver, glinting when his tounge moved as he fidgeted while concentrating. It was so quick, so subtle, you convinced yourself you'd imagined it.
Your brain didn’t even process the possibility that it could’ve been a piercing. A tounge piercing. On him. The thought was ridiculous, this was your best friend since childhood. He wasn’t the type to just… do that.
Then again, maybe he was. His style had always leaned towards alternative. Hair dyed in more colors than you could count, smudged black eyeliner that never seemed to fully come off, and ears crowded with silver studs and hoops. That was all normal for him, sure. But his tongue?
Would he really do that?
The next time you caught a glimpse of it, he was mid-conversation with Changbin, voice carrying across the room. They were complaining about a professor they both had. Something about a massive, make-or-break project that could tank their grade if they didn't pull it off.
You weren't listening to what they said, not really. Your focus stayed glued to Jeongin. It was his turn to speak, his mouth moving quickly as he gestured with his hands, expression animated. And then you saw it.
A glint, quick and sharp, catching in the harsh fluorescent light overhead. Something shiny on his tounge.
"It's just saliva," you thought to yourself, clinging to reason. "What else could it even be?"
But the thought wouldn't leave you. The image of that silver flash burned behind your eyes, daring you to believe it was more than just a trick of the light.
After that, you found yourself subconsciously stealing glances at his tongue whenever you were around him. Which, honestly, was most of the time. It became a bad habit, your eyes drifting without permission, curiosity eating at you.
It all came crashing down the day he caught you.
"Why do you keep looking at my mouth?" Jeongin asked, brows raised in mock suspicion. "Do I have a crumb or something?"
Heat rushed over your face so fast, you thought you might combust. Of all the humiliating moments in your life, this had to rank in the top ten. Maybe even top five.
You'd stammered out something about spacing out, waving your hand around like it was nothing. But the look he gave you — half amused, half disbelieving — made it obvious he didn't buy it. he didn't push though, just let the silence stretch.
And so it became a game.
For almost two months, this little dance continued. Jeongin would catch you staring and tilt his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "What is it this time? Trying to see my soul through my mouth?"
Each time you denied it.
Each time, you invented a flimsy excuse.
And each time, you were absolutely certain he didn't belive you.
But still... he never stopped letting you play.
It had been six weeks since you first caught that flicker of silver on Jeongin's tongue. Six whole weeks of driving yourself to the brink of insanity.
Six weeks of second-guessing every glance, every flash of light, every moment when you had almost — almost — worked up the courage to ask, only to choke on the words before they even left your mouth.
Six weeks of wondering it your were losing it. All because you couldn't let it go.
Now, here you were again at Jeongin's apartment, surrounded by the familiar clutter of his life. The faint hum of his speakers in the corner, a half finished energy drink sweating on the desk, his jacket tossed carelessly over the backrest of the gaming chair.
He was in the shower, steam curling from the cracked bathroom door attached to his room. He’d gone straight in after coming back from the gym, muscles pushed to their limit, sweat still clinging to his skin.
His black comforter felt like it was swallowing you whole as you sank into his bed. Not that it was a bad thing — Jeongin kept his aircon locked at a stubborn seventy degrees year-round, no matter the season. In the fall, you could only hope he had a hoodie or jacket you could steal. He always did.
The faint, powdery scent of his shampoo driftet from the bathroom, carried on the steam that curled under the door. You breathed it in without meaning to, deep and steady, the way you always did. It was a scent you teased him for — too expensive, too clean — but the truth was you liked it more than you’d ever admit.
Exhaustion tugged at you like an undertow. The day had been brutal, your boss storming around the office in the fallout of his messy divorce, snapping at anyone within reach. As if you had been the one to cheat on his wife, and not the random woman he has met on a casino trip with his rich friends. And then, halfway through your shift, the power cut out. Computer dead, hours of progress gone on a project that was due in a matter of days.
Now, here, cocooned in his sheets, the world felt softer. The bedding smelled like Jeongin — warm and familiar — layered with the faint sharpness of laundry detergent. You buried your face into his pillow, flat on your stomach, letting the scent wrap around you.
The steady hiss of the shower blurred into background noise, lulling you. Your eyelids grew heavy, muscles loosened. And before you could fight it, the weight of the day slipped away, pulling you under.
Just as your body begins to melt into the mattress, that blissful edge of sleep pulling you under, the sharp sound of a door opening and closing yanks you back. You groan into the blankets, muffled and annoyed, which only earns you a low laugh from across the room.
The mattress dips as Jeongin climbs on, settling cross-legged in front of you. He's close — too close — the kind of close that makes the air feel thick in your chest.
“You look tired,” he says, eyes locking on yours like he’s trying to pin you down with them.
You scoff, rolling your eyes. "Mmm, thanks. Just what i wanted to hear."
A sly grin spreads across his face. "I mean it in a good way," he chuckles, voice light but gaze sharp.
You shove his knee with your foot in protest, but he catches your ankle with ease. His grip is firm, teasing, and before you can wriggle free he tugs you down, pulling you flat against the mattress.
"I don't think looking tired is a good thing." you murmur, peering up at him.
"To me it is," Jeongin replies, tone dipped low, his grin softening into something more dangerous.
Your pulse skips. You shove his knee again, trying to defuse the tension, and he only answers by sticking out his tongue in a childish gesture.
That's when you see it.
The flash of silver. Small, gleaming, unmistakable. A piercing.
Your breath hitches, eyes widening as your whole body stutters between shock and something heavier. The smile on your lips falters, dissolving into stunned silence.
You give his leg another playful kick, though the look on your face betrays you—half teasing, half utterly undone.
"I knew it!" you finally gasp, voice sharp with betrayal and awe. "You bitch — you didn't tell me you got your tongue pierced!"
Jeongin doesn't even bother to defend himself. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, the corner of his mouth curling as he drags the tip of his tongue slowly against the silver ball, letting it glint deliberately this time.
Your stomach flips, your mouth goes dry.
"What?" he says, voice dipped into something heavier. "Jealous you weren't the first to find out?"
You swallow hard, trying to regain your footing in the conversation. "Jealous? Please, as if." The words come out weaker than you intend, more breath than bite.
"Mm." he leans in just enough that you feel the heat radiating off him, his grin spreading into something more dangerous. "Could've fooled me. You've been staring for weeks."
Your face burns. "I was not."
"Sure." His eyes glint with mischief as his thumb brushes lazy circles against your ankle, the causal touch sending a shiver up your spine. "You've been dying to ask, you just never did."
You force a laugh, shoving at his knee again, though it does nothing. "You're imagining things."
"Am i?" He teases, tongue darting out again just to flash that silver at you. "Because if I didn't know better, I'd say you're curious."
The words hang between you, thick and daring, making your pulse stutter. "That's — that's not—"
But before you can finish, he tugs on your ankle, dragging you down the mattress until you're flat on your back again, caged beneath his gaze.
"Relax," he murmurs, eyes dark and locked onto yours.
"Shh." His grin turns wicked as he presses his palms to your thighs, spreading them apart with an ease that leaves your body trembling. The air between you grows thick. Heavy with something unspoken that's finally about to snap.
"Let me prove it."
He slips your shorts down slowly, the fabric dragging against your skin in a way that makes you shiver. His fingers hook around the black waistband of your underwear, curling tight as he tugs it down inch by inch, until the flimsy fabric bunches at your knees.
Jeongin's ring-clad fingers spread across your thighs, sinking into the soft flesh as he pulls you apart with deliberate care. The cool air of his room brushes over your heat, but it's nothing compared to the weight of his gaze as he finally lays you bare.
"Awh..." he exhales, low and reverent, his eyes drinking you in. "What a pretty pussy. So wet for me already."
Before you can form a reply, his tongue drags up your slit in a slow, steady stripe, ending at your clit where he sucks you into his mouth with sinful ease. The cold press of metal shocks you — a deliberate swirl of his piercing against your clit, circling once, testing, playing.
Your back arches off the mattress immediately, legs trembling around his head. A sound tears from your throat, long and needy, closer to a whine than a moan. Pathetic, yes, but there's no stopping it.
The corner of his mouth curves as if he expected it. Without hesitation, he repeats the motion, slower this time, dragging the piercing across your swollen bud like he's savoring your every twitch.
Your hips jolt upward when a deep groan vibrates against you. He's loud with it, shameless, letting you feel the way your taste affects him.
"Please, more," you cry out, the pitch of your voice cracking under the plea. "Need more, Innie."
Jeongin hums into you, smiling against your slick. His voice is muffled, rough with hunger, when he murmurs, "My needy girl."
Then he dives in deeper, mouth sealing over your slit. He sucks hard, greedy, like he's intent on pulling every ounce of slick from your body. The room fills with obscene, wet slurps that echo in rhythm with your broken moans. Somewhere beneath it all, the faint hum of his old rock playlist leaks from his speaker, the low guitar only highlighting the lewd symphony of your bodies.
He alternates between messy, hungry slurps and ruthless suckling on your clit. His hands kneading hard into your thighs as if holding you open is the only thing keeping him tethered. His desperation makes your chest tighten — he's devouring you like a man who's been starving, and you're first taste of water in the desert.
You can feel your orgasm building fast, the tension coiling in your stomach with every
grind of your hips against his mouth. The old bedframe beneath you creaks in protest as your body bucks uncontrollably.
Your fingers slip into his hair, clutching the strands you've always teased him about bleaching too often. He groans at the tug — loud, guttural, vibrating against your clit — and you freeze, panic sparking in your chest.
Shit. Did he groan from pain?
You release him instantly, letting your hands fall flat to the sheets on either side of you, afraid you've hurt him.
But the moment your hands leave his hair, Jeongin pulls away.
The sudden lack of touch makes your body jolt. A strangled, confused sound escapes you as you push up onto your elbows. Your chest heaves, thighs still quivering around his shoulders.
"F-fuck... what's wrong?" You pant, eyes wide as you search his face.
His chest heaves as he stares up at you, lips glistening, jaw tense. For a moment, he doesn't move — he just studies you, brows knit like he's torn between frustration and restraint. But his eyes — god, his eyes shine like you're the only thing in the world. Dark and hungry, reverent and greedy all at once.
Your stomach twists under the weight of his silence. "Jeongin.." you breathe, uncertain, "What's wrong?"
Finally, his mouth curves — not into a smile, but something darker, hungrier.
"You stopped." His voice is low, rough, coated with want.
Your brows pinch together. "Stopped..?"
His eyes flick up to yours, then deliberately down to your heat before meeting your gaze again. One of his hands trails from your thigh to your wrist, fingers curling firm as he drags your hand back up, placing it against the messy strands at the crown of his head.
"Don't let go again," he mutters, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Heat floods your chest at the implication, your fingers curling instinctively into his hair. The moment you give the smallest tug, his eyes flutter shut and a groan rumbles out of him — deep, filthy, the kind of sound that shoots straight through your body.
"That's it," he exhales against your skin, the air making you jolt.
His mouth is on you again before you can respond, tongue and piercing pressing flat against your clit, working you over with renewed ferocity. It's messier, hungrier now — like you've unlocked something he'd been waiting for. Like he needs the pull of your fingers in his hair just as badly as you need his mouth between your thighs.
Every time you tug, he groans louder, and the sound reverberates straight through your core, leaving your body thrumming with overstimulation.
Your head tips back against the pillow, lips parting as the moans fall freely from you. And all the while, his voice hums against your slick, desperate and unrestrained, "Yeah... just like that. Don't stop."
Your fingers tighten instinctively, tangling in his hair as you try to ground yourself. The moment you give another tug, Jeongin groans into you — louder this time, guttural and needy. The vibration rocks through your clit and makes your entire body shiver.
His grip on your thighs tightens in response, thumbs digging into your skin like he's anchoring himself to you. He works you ruthlessly, dragging his tounge up and down your slit before circling your clit with that teasing metal ball, all while letting your grip dictate his rhythm.
Every time your fingers slacken, he eases up, slowing his pace just enough to make you whine. But the second you yank in his hair again, he growls, burying himself deeper, lapping at your slick with a hunger that leaves your thighs trembling.
"Y-yeah, just like that," he mumbles against you, voice muffled and rough. His piercing flicks your clit again, harder this time, and your back arches off the mattress. "Don't let go of me."
Your breathing grows ragged, chest heaving as the tension in your stomach coils tighter and tighter. Your thighs clamp desperately around his head, but Jeongin doesn't relent — he groans like he loves the pressure, finally pushing his tongue inside of your cunt.
The slurping is obscene. Echoing in the small space of his bedroom, mixing with your high-pitched moans and the faint rasp of the old rock track still humming in the background.
You fist his hair harder than before, tugging so hard you’re afraid you'll hurt him — but the reaction it earns makes your toes curl. Jeongin moans shamelessly into your cunt, the sound vibrating all the way through your body, and the heat in your stomach snaps.
Your orgasm crashes over you with a violent force. Your thighs shake around his head, hips bucking uncontrollably against his mouth as broken cries spill from your lips. He doesn't stop — not for a second. He sucks at your clit like he's intent on wringing every drop of pleasure out of you, the piercing flicking mercilessly as you fall apart.
Your vision blurs, your voice cracks, your body shudders helplessly against him. And all the while, Jeongin stays buried in your heat, hands gripping your thighs so they stay still, hair clenched tight in your fists as if he can't get enough.
Your body slumps against the mattress, chest heaving as your orgasm rips through you, leaving your muscles weak and trembling. You expect him to slow down, to give you a second to breathe — "He has to." — you think.
But Jeongin doesn't stop.
If anything, he gets hungrier.
The second your grip in his hair loosens, he growls, his hand shooting up to press yours back down against his head. "Don't." He mutters against your slick.
Your breath catches, and with shaking fingers you tangle back into his hair. He groans like it's his reward, and immediately his tongue dives deeper, pushing past your folds. He licks into you, hot and wet, spreading you open with his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.
A broken sob tears from your throat. "J– fuck Jeongin–"
The piercing shallowly grazes your walls as his nose nudges against your clit, the double sensation making you convulse. Your hips twitch upwards helplessly, but he pins them down with bruising strength, forcing you to take every single drag of his tongue.
It's relentless, messy. His mouth moves back and forth between thrusting into your entrance and lashing at your clit, building the sensitivity until it feels unbearable. Slick drips down his chin, his groans rumbling through your core, the filthy sounds of him devouring you echoing over your moans.
"Too much!" you gasp, voice breaking, thighs quivering violently around his head. "Innie, I can't–"
"You can," he whispers against you, tongue plunging back inside, curling just right before sliding out to circle your clit again. "You will."
The overstimulation hits like lightning — sharp, consuming, rolling through your body until your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth falls open in a silent scream. Another orgasm claws up your spine before the first one has even fully faded.
Your thighs convulse, kicking against the mattress as you grind helplessly into his face. The bedframe creaks, the sheets twist beneath your fists, your nails digging in as your whole body spasms around him.
He doesn't give you an inch of reprieve. His tongue thrusts deeper, faster, curling and tasting, before pulling out to lap at your soaked folds like he's addicted. Every time your hips try to squirm away, his grip drags you right back down.
By the time the second orgasm crashes over you, it's overwhelming, blinding, a tidal wave that has tears stinging the corners of your eyes. Your voice gives out into strangled cries, your body shaking uncontrollably. But Jeongin eats it up, moaning into your cunt like he's starving and you're the only thing that could ever satisfy him.
Your whole body is already trembling, nerves sparking like live wires under your skin, but Jeongin doesn't give you a single breath of reprieve. His tongue fucks into you again, hot and relentless.
You try to pull back, whimpering, but his grip on your thighs is like iron. "Stay still," he breathes against your soaked folds, voice rough and vibrating through your core. "I’m not done with you yet."
A sharp gasp rips out of you when his hand leaves your thigh and slides upward, over the curve of your stomach until it finds your breast. His palm cups it roughly through your shirt, thumb brushing over your nipple until it hardens beneath the thin fabric. He squeezes, not gently, pinching and rolling the bud between his fingers before kneading the soft weight of your breast in his hand.
"Fuck– Innie–" Your voice cracks, body arching into his touch even as your thighs quake around his head.
He moans against your cunt in response, the sound guttural and raw, like he can't get enough of the way you're unraveling for him. His tongue thrusts deep one last time before pulling out — and then his fingers replace it.
Two of them slide into you without warning, the cool press of his rings stretching you open as he pushes in to the hilt. He curls them immediately, searching, hitting that spot inside you that makes your back bow off the mattress.
"Right there," he mutters, like he's confirming it for himself. Then he thrusts harder, faster, his knuckles slamming against you with each push while his tongue returns to your clit, cool piercing flicking mercilessly against it.
The double sensation is devastating. His fingers pounding into you, his tongue circling and sucking at your swollen bud, his other hand tugging and twisting your nipple through your shirt — it's too much, it's unbearable, and yet your body begs for more.
Your moans turn ragged, pitch climbing higher with each wave of stimulation. "I– I can't– " you sob, clutching at his hair like a lifeline, tugging hard enough to make his groan vibrate straight through your clit.
"Yes, you can," he growls against you, voice muffled, feral. "Give me another. Don't hold back."
And then he devours you. His mouth seals tight around your clit, sucking so hard your thighs slam shut against his ears, while his fingers piston into you ruthlessly, curling with every thrust to milk every reaction from your body. His free hand never stops kneading your breast, thumb flicking your nipple until it aches.
Your entire body convulses, hips jerking helplessly as your third orgasm tears through you like fire. You scream this time — raw, high, desperate — your nails clawing at his scalp as you grind down against his face. Slick gushes around his fingers, dripping down his wrist, but Jeongin only groans and fucks into you harder, chasing evey drop.
The overstimulation is unbearable, almost painful, but he doesn't let up. He keeps pounding you with his fingers, keeps sucking your clit, keeps pinching your breast until you're sobbing, tears streaking down your temples. Your thighs twitch uncontrollably, your chest heaves, and still, he won't stop.
It's too much. It's everything. It's him.
Until, finally, he pulls back.
The sudden absence makes you collapse into the sheets, limp and trembling. You're soaked, messy, overstimulated to the point of aching, your skin burning hot snd slick with sweat.
Jeongin lifts his head slowly, his lips and chin drenched, the glint of his piercing wet with your slick. His chest rises and falls as he breathes heavy, but his grin is smug — satisfied, like he's just proven something.
He drags the back of his hand across his mouth lazily, then looks down at you with eyes that are still soft despite everything, still shining like you're the most sacred thing he's ever touched.
"Look at you," he purrs, his voice low, and smooth, but warm. "So pretty when you fall apart for me."
You whimper weakly, shifting, trying to steady your shaky breathing. He helps you up with careful hands, guiding you to crawl into his lap. You straddle him, your thighs trembling against his legs as you lay your chest against his, too exhausted to hold yourself up.
His arms come around you instantly, steady and grounding, one hand splayed at your lower back, the other stroking up and down your spine in soothing circles. His lips press into your hair, and for a moment the room is quiet save for the muffled hum of his playlist.
"You did so good," he whispers, fingers tracing your back. "So fucking good for me."
You hum faintly, pressing your face into the crook of his neck, clinging to him as your body settles.
Then you feel him shift. The hand that has been inside you pulls away from your back, and you glance down hazily just in time to see his fingers — slick, glistening, still wet with your cum — brought up to your lips.
"Open," he says softly, but there's no room for denial in his tone.
Your lips part without thought, and he slides his fingers past them, pressing against your tongue. The taste of yourself coats your mouth, hot and sharp, while his gaze stays locked onto yours, unreadable but heavy.
"Good girl," he murmurs when you close your lips around them, sucking faintly. His expression flickering between smug and tender. "Knew you'd take it so well."
You hum around his fingers, your body finally starting to relax fully against his chest as his free hand strokes lazy, soothing lines down your spine. He keeps you there, straddling him, caged in his lap and wrapped up in his warmth, until the aftershocks fade and the only thing left is the quiet comfort of his heartbeat beneath your ear.
You're still pressed against his chest, straddling his lap when he finally leans back against the headboard, settling you more comfortably across him. His hand is still stroking your back lazily, his fingers dipping just under the waistband of your shirt like he can't not touch you. He pulls his fingers from your mouth, hand joining the other.
The silence lingers for a moment, your breaths syncing, until he lets out a low laugh against your hair.
"You came just from me touching your clit," he teases, voice dripping with smugness. His hand slides lower to grip your hip, steadying you, before he subtly flexes his thigh beneath you.
You gasp when you feel it — his thick, muscular thigh pressing up against your overstimulated cunt. The flannel of his blue and green pajama pants rubs directly against your sensitive heat, and a shiver darts straight up your spine.
"Innie– " you whine, trying to lift your hips, but his hand at your waist keeps you in place. He only laughs again, low and satisfied.
"Sensitive, huh?" his lips brush your temple, soft but mocking. "Didn't take much, did it?"
You bury your face into his chest, groaning in embarrassment. "You're insufferable."
"And yet," he says smoothly, lifting his fingers — still damp from your mouth — to tap your lips again, "You keep proving how much you like it."
You glare at him weakly, cheeks flushed hot, but before you can shoot back something cutting, his tone shifts — playfully teasing.
"How do you think your parents are gonna feel," he murmurs, his voice silk against your ear, "knowing their sweet little girl is hooking up with her delinquent friend?"
Your whole body stiffens against him, heat rushing to your face. "You're such an asshole," you mutter shoving at his chest with no real force.
He just grins down at you, all sharp teeth and dimples, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Maybe," he says, his hand squeezing your thigh possessively, "but you're still in my lap."
You groan, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, and he chuckles, kissing the top of your head. The sound vibrates through his chest where you're pressed against him, both grounding and infuriating.
"Don't worry," he adds after a moment, softer now, brushing his thumb against your spine. "I won't tell them."
"Gee, thanks," you mutter, though the smile tugging at your lips betrays you.
"Anytime, baby," he murmurs smugly, tugging you closer until your heart is thudding right against his.
It's the end of a long week and you're lying down on your boyfriend’s bed. The only source of light comes from the television, playing a random show neither of you are paying attention to. A faint, musky cologne scent mixed with his laundry detergent lingers in the room.
You lie on your back while Jungwon is splayed out on top of you. The lower part of his torso is wedged between your legs.
One of his hands is tightly interlocked with yours. Jungwon's face is squashed against your chest and you can see his back slowly rising and falling, the steady beating of your heart calming him.
As time goes on, Jungwon visibly relaxes, his body releasing tension from a long day of preparing for a comeback.
Your fingers gently run through his hair, careful not to tug on any knotted strands. When your nails and fingertips graze his scalp, he lets out a content sigh, his arm giving your waist a gentle squeeze.
When you glance down at his face, you notice the cheek resting on your chest is oddly squished from how tightly he’s holding the two of you together.
After a while, his breathing grows slower and more measured. You glance down at him to see his eyes shut, and his mouth slightly agape. A beatific look rests upon his face as he soundly sleeps against you.
[ 한지성 ] — your friend is willing to do anything to help you cool off from the heat
cw : mdni , afab!reader, oral (fem) , fingering , temperature play , lowk oral fixation , uhh i think thats all??
wc : 3.2k!!
notes : i DESPERATELY need a beta writer of some sorts bc i'm sure this is full on spelling errors (sorry) also if this gets attention i'll write a pt2
it was mid-summer in south korea and you were suffering. this summer is most definitely one of the hottest in years. at any home improvement store within a 30-mile radius, all fans and air conditioners were completely sold out. if anyone were to go outside barefoot, they would undoubtably burn the soles of their feet on the hot ground. getting inside a car with leather seats was practically a death wish.
the only thing that was saving you from actually melting was the tiny ac unit that came with your apartment and probably hasn’t worked correctly for at least ten years. conveniently, the air conditioner was in the living room of your mediocre apartment. you did have a pretty decent pedestal fan that you had placed in your bedroom. now these would usually help a lot, but again, your building was quite old, so it was made up of thick layers of building materials that worked perfectly to keep the cold out but terribly to keep the heat out, as well as sucking at having any airflow, so when the small housing situation is swelteringly hot, it stays hot.
right now, you’re flopped out on the faux leather couch in your living room. you’ve been choosing to stay in the living area during the day when you’re not staying in the café down the street for their aircon, because the temperature is typically cooler than in your room, even if it is just slightly.
you’ve opted to wear the least clothes you can get away with while still being clothed. a form-fitting pale blue camisole is worn on your top half; no bra because you were in the comfort of your own house and because you’d rather be dead than wear a bra in this heat. on your bottom half, you’re wearing a teeny tiny pair of gray cotton sweat shorts that almost look more like boy short underwear.
a shiny layer of sweat is apparent on your whole body, and the dampness leaves you feeling disgustingly uncomfortable. your hair is tied up in the messiest of messy buns you think you’ve ever managed to do.
you nearly jump out of your skin when you hear a rhythmic knocking on the door to your home, but settle down when you realize that there’s only one person that would knock like that.
getting up from your comfy-ish spot on the couch, hissing at the painful sensation of your bare skin unsticking to the sofa, you reach for the door and unlock it, then pull it open. you’re greeted with your smiling best friend, who you’ve known since the beginning of college.
despite your visibly sweaty skin, jisung still pulls you into a bone-crushing hug, picking your feet up off the ground and swaying you back and forth as if he’s a child hugging their favorite stuffed animal. him acting as if the two of you hadn’t seen each other in ages, even though you were out to lunch with some mutual friend a few days ago, makes you huff out a laugh.
when he puts you down and lets go of you, he waves a convenience store bag in front of your face. “i brought something for you,” he says with a bright smile and walks over to your couch, then plops down on it as if it were his place.
you join him on the couch, leaning on his shoulder and turning on the tv, putting on a show the both of you like. he pulls an ice cream popsicle out of the plastic bag and tears the wrapping off of it.
"c'mon, open," he presses the popsicle onto your lips, catching you by surprise from the action and coldness.
nonetheless, you open your mouth and let him push the frozen treat into your mouth. you give him an appreciative nod and an eyebrow raise, taking the wooden stick out of his hand. a quiet hum rumbles in your chest from the sweet vanilla bean taste.
"why is your apartment so hot? it's for real hotter in here than it is outside. you know, you should stay with me when it gets this warm." jisung talks animatedly while occasionally glancing at you.
as soon as he says the last sentence, you dismissively shake your head and take the popsicle out of your mouth. "no? i don't wanna bother minho, it's his place too. and it isn't that bad. i think i'm learning to live with it honestly."
his eyebrows scrunch up, and a soft pout paints itself onto his light pink lips. "what? minho likes you; he wouldn't mind. also, you getting used to the heat is concerning, by the way."
instantly, when he sees and hears you open your mouth and take in a deep breath, ready to say a rebuttal, he grabs the hand that's holding onto the wood stick and moves it to shove the popsicle into your mouth again. after sputtering, you slap his chest, which in turn makes him whine about how he was sore from his workout.
you reach your arm back in a playful fighting motion, like you were winding back to punch him. both of his hands go up in mock mercy, and he starts paying attention to the television rather than messing with you.
after probably not even five minutes of watching tv you could tell that the heat was starting to get to him.
a sheen layer of sweat covers his face, neck, chest, and arms. he constantly pulls his tank top up off of his skin to cool himself off, although it's not doing much. he's not really dressed for the heat, wearing a black tank top and gray sweatpants.
"God, i'm melting!" jisung groans and dramatically flops onto your lap, his head resting on your thighs. he puts his forearm over his eyes as if he’s a damsel in distress.
you ignore his statement and continue to watch the show you put on. the only reason you ignore him is since you’re well aware of the temperature. to mess with him a bit, you bounce your right leg up a bit, which bumps his head up and down quickly, making him let out a distasteful groan.
he moves the arm that’s covering his face and takes the half-eaten popsicle out of your hand. then, he licks a long strip of it, the white ice cream visibly coating his tongue. it’s common for you guys to share food and drinks, but never anything like this, where he’s most likely licking up some of your saliva.
thinking about it makes your ears and cheeks feel warmer than they already are; thinking about it mixed with watching the pretty pink muscle lap up the dripping ice cream makes a weird sensation appear in your lower stomach.
after a while, jisung puts the treat up to your mouth, just as he did before. however, this time when you open your mouth for him to stick it back in there, he pushes it in, but doesn’t let go of it. he moves it along your tongue in a provocative manner that he had never used with you. of course, you’d seen him act jokingly sexual with your friends like minho and chan, but he’s never been this way with you.
“can i eat you out?”
the question makes you harshly grab onto his wrist and pull the dessert out of your mouth. you let out a surprised ‘huhh’, looking at him shocked.
“oh come on,” he whines, “please! it’ll help you cool off, trust me, please, i have a plan. i wanna taste you! pretty please?”
“jisung.. i don’t know, wouldn’t that be weird? i don’t want to make it weird between us, because if it’s weird between us then the guys will notice, then they’ll ask, and you know how bad you are at keeping secrets, and then they’d probably think i’m trying to get passed around by the friend group and stop being friends with me because i’m a slut.” you rant, and he simply looks up at you with a pleading expression.
his left hand sneakily creeps up to your chest while you’re talking, and his thumb finds a resting stop right on one of your nipples that were most likely visible through the light color of your top, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about it being see through since the hot weather felt as if it was draining you of all your energy.
you slightly squirm when you feel his finger lightly press down and draw circles. he looks up at you, your brows tightly drawn together and your thighs tensing.
“please, will you let me? i’ll make you feel soo good, i promise.” jisung begs, his hand leaving your breast as he sits up and looks you in the eyes, giving you the most convincing boba eyes he can muster. "wanna taste you so bad.." he murmurs sadly.
you look at him sternly for a moment, but he stays strong, battling you with a pleading look and pout.
finally, your gaze drops down to your lap, and you nod, giving him permission.
he lets out an excited laugh and grabs you by both of your cheeks, quickly pressing a kiss to your lips. as soon as you felt his touch on your face, it was gone and moved down to your legs.
jisung slides both hands under your knees and pulls you to lay on the couch with your head right by the armrest, and your feet pressed to the sofa cushion on either side of him.
a quiet gasp is pulled from you at his hurried action, but it doesn't surprise you much that this is how jisung is acting.
four fingers on either hand slip into the waistband of your shorts and underwear. your best friend peers up at you for your permission, and help to take them off.
you take a deep breath, seeing his flushed cheeks and round eyes when he gazes at you. nonetheless, you lift your hips up so he can pull your pants as well as panties down.
instantly, once he sees your wet core, he dives in.
he feverishly laps at your slick, groaning loudly at the taste. the vibrations of his noise draw a breathless moan from you. his tongue desperately cleans all of the clear slick on your cunt and replaces it with his spit.
once he gets the majority of your slick, he plunges the thick muscle into your hole, causing your legs to open farther and your back to arch, your body instinctively moving to get more of the sensation. he messily swirls his tongue around like he's making out with your pussy.
moans fall out of jisung's mouth just as they do yours, and it begins to sound like a beautiful song.
your hips start to move on their own, grinding your core onto his face, and if it were any other man, you'd be insanely embarrassed, but you trust jisung, and it's clear he likes this as much as you do. if not more.
when he looks up at you, he feels like he could cum right in his pants at the mere sight of you.
your eyebrows drawn together in a begging expression, legs spread open, and back arched up. your eyes are squeezed shut, and plump tears gather in the corners of your eyes. the sounds that are coming out of you are heavenly, and jisung can't help but try and pull more sounds and reactions out of you.
to get more reactions he moves away from your hole and up to your clit.
he sucks the bud into his mouth and hums. then, he plunges his middle finger inside of you.
a particularly loud string of moans tumbles out of you, and the tears gathering in your eyes finally roll down the sides of your face.
"fuckk.. so good, sungie!" your words encourage him to start moving his middle finger. the digit curls up, searching for the spongy spot inside of you.
it takes him no time to find it, his one finger relentlessly curling up and hitting it, making you squirm in pleasure. your heels dig into his back, desperately needing something to stay grounded.
once he thinks you can take it, he slides in his ring finger.
the slight stinging stretch is quickly forgotten about as soon as you feel a freezing sensation on your lower stomach between your hips. your lower half jerks in surprise.
the feeling makes you peel your eyes open and look down, just to see jisungs free hand holding a square ice cube.
he runs the block down to your crotch and momentarily parts from your cunt to pop the ice in his mouth. his puffy lips suction back onto your clit, and your whole body jolts at the cold that's immediately pressed on the sensitive bundle of nerves.
it's like nothing you've ever felt before, and he can feel that you're getting close to your orgasm by the way your moans get higher pitched and how your walls squeeze around his digits.
the almost painful coldness accompanied by the constant stimulation against your g-spot is a deadly combination. especially when he starts humming against your clit again.
"close! 'm so close!" you cry out, bringing one of your hands down to lace into his soft hair. the knot in your lower stomach is getting tighter and tighter until jisung lightly grazes his teeth on your bundle of nerves — the ice cube now melted from the warmth of his mouth and your cunt.
your whole body shutters, and your thighs squeeze tightly around his head. an embarrasingly loud and whiney moan leaves your throat as you finally cum. both of your hands move to cover your face as jisung slurps up your release, acting as if it's a michelin meal.
“taste so good, can’t believe i didn’t convince you sooner.. gotta tell min ‘bout this,” jisung’s babbling is incoherent to you from the quiet ringing in your ears from your orgasm mixed with the sound of you panting to catch your breath, as well as the fact that his face is still buried between your thighs. he runs his palm back and forth over your lower stomach, still mumbling.
as soon as the ringing in your ears quiets down and your breathing is nearly regulated, you take your hands off of your face and prop yourself up on your elbows, looking down at your friend. “c’mon get up, ji’, we’re done.” you grab onto the hand that’s attached to the fingers that are still inside of you and try to pull them out, but jisung apparently doesn’t like that because as soon as even a centimeter of his fingers leave your warmth, he plunges them back in.
the feeling of his fingers thrusting into you once more brings on a wave of painful pleasure from the slight overstimulation.
a breathless moan tumbles from between your lips, legs squirming to get him away from the intimate area. “enough, please, ’s too much!”, you whine out.
your words don’t deter his actions as he continues. your body starts to uncontrollably move, instinctively grinding your pussy onto your friend's face to get yourself closer to climax. humping his hand and face, pitiful whiny moans come from you.
he plants his free hand on your lower stomach between your hip bones, holding you down.
the pleasure is so overwhelming, and the knot in your belly is so tight it feels like you're about to burst. fat tears run down your face, but neither you or jisung notice them, too consumed in the moment.
the hand that's not tangled in his hair cups one of your boobs, groping it and adding to the pleasure.
you barely manage to let out a quick "cumming!" before you release all over his hand.
your fingers tighten around the strands of his hair, as well as your shaking thighs tightening around his head.
jisungs middle and ring finger rigorously pound into you even after you've came all over them, making sure to get everything out of you that he can.
he drags his fingertips across the sweet spot inside of you one last time before leisurely pulling them out, making sure you can feel every small movement, successfully pulling a whine out of you.
jisung shoves his cum-covered digits in his mouth. he makes a satisfied noise as soon as your essence touches his tongue again. his eyes close for a moment, like he's savoring your taste. then he's quickly back to "normal" and makes his way up to your face.
your chest rises and falls quickly. you tremble slightly, and when you finally open your eyes, you see jisung hovering over you. his legs are slotted in between yours, and his crotch is dangerously close to yours, bulge less than a few inches away from your heat.
you open your mouth to speak, but before you can get any words out, jisungs slick-covered lips are crashing into yours.
his lips move eagerly against yours. you struggle to keep up with his hungry kissing, letting him take the lead.
between feverish kisses, jisung whispers hushed 'thank you's against your lips.
after at least five minutes of yours and jisung's lips smashing into each other the two of you finally part. jisungs face is flushed red. his lips wet and parted, gasping for air.
"where'd you get the ice from?" your bare face glows with a thin layer of sweat, both from the heat as well as what you and jisung have been doing for the past thirty – or more – minutes.
"oh, i picked it up when i bought the popsicles," jisung moves to sit up, rather than lay, between your legs. his eyes occasionally shift down to your glistening cunt. watching it pulse with aftershocks of your orgasm, and cum he missed slowly pooling on the leather of your couch.
a quiet laugh leaves you once you notice your friend's shifting eyes, and you reach up to lightly slap his arm.
the two of you sit in near silence, saying tiny comments and cracking hushed jokes, until jisung's annoying ringtone starts to go off, playing some default chime.
a silly picture of minho biting down on his bottom lip and flipping up his top lip, probably drunk, flashes on jisungs screen, making you raise your eyebrows in question.
you and jisung give each other curious looks, and you sit up, urging him to answer the phone call.
minho's voice comes out quietly through the speaker of jisung's phone. just loud enough for you to hear faint murmuring.
"but min, i'm busy!" jisung whines.
his whining clearly gets him nowhere, apparent by the frown on his face as he hangs up and sighs.
"i gotta go. minho needs me home; he said something about helping him cook. sorry."
you nod and smile at him, "it's fine, don't worry about it. i don't want minho getting mad at me for hogging you," you speak with a light laugh at your words.
jisung stands from the sofa and quickly grabs both sides of your face in his palms. he smashes his mouth onto yours, just like he did earlier. similarly, it doesn't last, and before you know it, he's closing the door of your home. in his wake is a clear plastic cup of half-melted ice, a wooden popsicle stick with a wrapper, and a convenience store bag full of small cartons of ice cream and other frozen desserts.
once he's gone, the reality of what happened starts to sink in.
you run either of your hands down your face in a slow movement, sighing loudly.
