about: amanda, she/her, 93’ line, sagittarius, infj-t. I love writing & kpop, so I decided to match my two greatest passions. currently writing for riize and xnghan&xoul only! more about me.
disclaimer: until now, all of the works on this blog contain mature/explicit content and should not be read by minors. if you're +18, I ask that you please set your age on your account or you might be banned from reading my fics and interacting with me.
+info: I cross-post all my works on my ao3. I also just got a ko-fi, where you can support my work by leaving tips. but most of all, any comments are appreciated. my askbox is always open to talk!
latest work | next work: ???
2026 word count: 9.4k | blog overall word count: 70k
masterlist under the cut.
KEY:
f: fluff
s: smut
a: angst
h: hurt/comfort
m: mature; touches on delicate themes such as family trauma, depression and/or anxiety and grief/loss of a friend or relative
✨: my favorite works
for all works click here
🦦 osaki shotaro: click here for all works
↳ stay (a, f, h, m)
→ pairing: Shotaro x fem!reader
→ word count: 9.4k
→ contents: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff. two suggestive scenes, but no smut. Strangers to friends to soon-to-be lovers. "minor" character death. descriptions of: chronic kidney disease, medical treatments, having a stomach bug, HUGE grief, depressive episodes, taking meds, going to therapy/grief therapy, wanting to be unalive. proceed with caution!
🪨 song eunseok: click here for all works
↳ constant (s, a, m, ✨)
→ pairing: Best friend!Eunseok x fem!reader
→ word count: 9.2k
→ contents: Best friends turned to friends with benefits turned to (awkward) best friends again turned to ?????? Angst, semi smut (as in descriptions of first time having sex + heavy make out session with grindind and feeling each other up), and more angst because I'm crazy. Eunseok has a girlfriend on the latter part of this, so there's cheating involved (trigger warning). Reader's father dies when she's very young (more trigger warning). Other riize members + random idols mentioned for worldbuilding. No happy ending (for now).
🦌 jung sungchan: click here for all works
↳ what comes after: no one (s, a, m, ✨)
→ pairing: College fwb!Sungchan x fem!reader
→ word count: 21.6k
→ contents: Smut, some fluff, angst, angst & angst (specially towards the end). Switch!reader and switch!Sungchan. Sex with a condom, fingering, oral (f. and m. receiving). Pet names, ass man!Sungchan. Reader has thoughts on family trauma and self-hatred. Random idols mentioned for worldbuilding. Sungchan is pretty much an asshole in the end. no happy ending!
→ part one of "what comes after" series | part two (w/ Anton)
↳ biteable (f, s)
→ pairing: Boyfriend!Sungchan x fem!reader
→ word count: 2.3K
→ contents: Established relationship. Smut and fluff. Vaginal sex. Dom!sungchan & sub!reader. Biting and marking. Thoughts and talks about possessiveness/jealousy.
🎸 park wonbin: click here for all works
↳ wonbin shares you, his girlfriend, with seunghan (s)
→ pairing: Idol boyfriend!wonbin x fem!reader x idol!seunghan
→ word count: 475
→ contents: Cuckolding, threesome, vaginal fingering, edging, vaginal sex, oral (fem. receiving), cum eating.
🐈⬛ hong seunghan: click here for all works
↳ birthday boy (f, s)
→ pairing: Idol boyfriend!Seunghan x fem!reader
→ word count: 3.3k
→ contents: Established relationship, aged up!seunghan. Mentions of riize members. Set in the future, on seunghan's 25th birthday. He is active in the group and riize has been in the scene for a few years. Smut and fluff. Seunghan wants to have his cake and eat it too, lol. Vaginal fingering, sex in the shower. sex without protection, cumming inside.
↳ seunghan gets to fuck you, wonbin's girlfriend (s)
→ pairing: Idol!Seunghan x fem!reader x idol boyfriend!Wonbin
→ word count: 475
→ contents: Cuckolding, threesome, vaginal fingering, edging, vaginal sex, oral (fem. receiving), cum eating.
💂 lee sohee: click here for all works
↳ study break (f, s, ✨)
→ pairing: High school best friend!Sohee x fem!reader
→ word count: 4.7k
→ contents: Best friends to fwb to lovers. Smut and some fluff. Sohee is a teasing little shit. cheating, reader has a boyfriend, mentions of said boyfriend during sex (so trigger warning for all of that). Switch!reader and Switch!sohee. They are both on the last year of high school. Fingering, sex without a condom, cumming inside.
🦕 lee anton: click here for all works
↳ what comes after: (im)perfect for you (s, f, h, m, ✨)
→ word count: 19.6k
→ pairing: Boyfriend!Anton x fem!reader
→ contents: Smut, fluff, a bit of hurt/comfort. 10 years time jump, ex-fwb!Sungchan cameo, regretful!Sungchan. Descriptions about messed up family dynamics, depression, anxiety attacks, taking meds and going to therapy. Insecure!Anton, mention of a safe word, possessive/jealous sex turned soft in the end, Anton talks about Sungchan during sex. Vaginal fingering, oral (f. receiving), squirting, vaginal penetration, petnames, reader sucks Anton's fingers like 3 times. Anton (lovingly) refers to reader as a "whore" once and as a "little slut" in another instance. Supreme aftercare!!! Anton and reader are so sweetly in love it gave me tooth ache — a bunch of praise, i love you's, healthy conversations, understanding and being silly with each other. And a happy ending, YAY!
→ part two of "what comes after" series | part one (w/ Sungchan)
🫧 series
↳ what comes after
→ no one — w/ Sungchan (s, a, m, ✨)
→ (im)perfect for you — w/ Anton (s, f, h, m, ✨)
I love maysilee donner bc she knew she was probably gonna die so she just bitched at everyone that deserved bitching, had a picnic, and punched the capitol in the face. Literally. No one has ever done it like her
The Hunger Games Renaissance.
The Hunger Games: Sunrise on the Reaping (2026), dir. Francis Lawrence
- first look at the cast of sunrise on the reaping
“I first saw the girl at The Hob when she was just a baby. Burdock was so proud of her, he toted her around everywhere. After he died in that mine explosion, she started coming alone, trading the odd squirrel or rabbit. Tough and smart, her hair in two braids then, reminding me for all the world of Louella McCoy, my sweetheart of old.”
thinking about sejanus plinth, the first rebel snow killed
and also about clerk carmine who probably never trusted haymitch's love for leonore dove because he once met a boy that was also in love with a Covey girl and he turned out to be the fucking lunatic sociopath they call president
UNPOPULAR OPINION: A lot of "mental health issues" disappear when bills are paid, rent is secure, and the fridge is full. Peace is expensive. And pretending money doesn't affect mental health is privilege.
drunk and giggly sex with husband sunghoon after a party💭💭💭💭💭
giggly hoon is making ME giggly
warnings: established relationship, mentions of alcohol, kissing, making out, light grinding, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t.), creampie, use of petnames, playful teasing, praise, dirty talk
you and sunghoon stumble into your apartment at almost two in the morning, still laughing from the ridiculous karaoke battle that happened at the after-party. your cheeks are flushed from the alcohol and the cold night air. sunghoon’s tie is loose, hair messy, and he can’t stop smiling as he kicks the door shut behind you both.
“i can’t believe you actually sang that song,” you giggle, leaning against the wall for balance as you slip off your heels. “you were so off-key, hoon.”
“excuse me?” he gasps dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest like you wounded him. “i was incredible. the crowd loved me.” he wobbles a little as he tries to take off his jacket, nearly tripping over his own feet.
you burst into another fit of giggles and reach out to steady him. the second your hands touch his chest, the mood shifts just a little — still playful, but warmer. sunghoon looks down at you with that dazed, lovestruck smile he only ever gives when he’s drunk and completely in love.
“come here, wife,” he murmurs, voice low but cracking with laughter as he pulls you against him. his hands settle on your waist, thumbs rubbing circles over the fabric of your dress.
you tilt your head up and kiss him, both of you smiling too wide for it to be smooth. your teeth clack together awkwardly and that only makes you laugh harder into each other’s mouths.
“we’re terrible at this right now,” you snort, hiding your face in his neck.
“nooo, we’re perfect,” sunghoon insists, swaying with you in the hallway like you’re slow dancing. “best married couple in the world. very sexy. very coordinated.”
he tries to kiss you again but misses your lips and lands on your cheek instead. the two of you dissolve into another round of giggles, clinging to each other so you don’t fall over.
somehow you make it to the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way. sunghoon’s shirt is half unbuttoned, your dress is unzipped but still hanging onto your shoulders. he backs you up until your knees hit the bed and you both tumble onto the mattress in a messy heap.
“ow— your elbow,” you complain through laughter.
“sorry, baby,” he chuckles, rolling slightly so he’s hovering over you. his hair falls into his eyes as he looks down at you, cheeks flushed pink from the alcohol and arousal. “you’re so pretty. how did i get so lucky?”
you reach up and cup his face, pulling him down into another giggly kiss. this one is deeper, sloppier, tongues brushing lazily as your hands roam over his bare chest. sunghoon groans softly into your mouth when your fingers trace down his abs.
“i want you,” he mumbles against your lips, smiling like an idiot. “so bad. been thinking about you in this dress all night.”
“then take it off,” you whisper, biting your lip to stop another giggle.
he struggles adorably with the zipper, cursing under his breath when it gets stuck. “why is this so hard? i’m usually good at this.”
“because you’re drunk, hoonie,” you tease, helping him tug the dress down your body.
the second it’s off, sunghoon’s eyes light up like he’s seeing you for the first time.
“wow,” he breathes, hands sliding over your waist and up to your breasts. “my wife is so hot. how is she real?”
you laugh and pull him back down, kissing him while your legs wrap around his hips. he grinds against you slowly, still wearing his pants, and the friction makes you both moan softly between giggles.
“off,” you demand, tugging at his belt. “pants off. now.”
sunghoon tries to look serious but fails miserably as he sits up and fumbles with his belt. “yes ma’am. anything for my beautiful, drunk wife.”
once he’s finally naked, he crawls back over you, skin warm and flushed. you’re both giggling again as he tries to kiss your neck but keeps missing because he’s swaying.
“stop laughing at me,” he whines playfully, nipping at your collarbone. “i’m trying to be romantic.”
“you’re doing great,” you reassure him, threading your fingers through his hair. “so sexy. very smooth.”
he grins and finally settles between your legs properly. his hand slides down to touch you, fingers gliding through how wet you already are. his eyes widen comically.
“baby… you’re soaked,” he whispers, awed. then he giggles. “did i do that?”
“yes, you idiot,” you laugh, pulling him closer. “now fuck me before we both pass out.”
sunghoon’s cheeks flush even darker at your bold words. he lines himself up and pushes in slowly, both of you moaning at the feeling. he drops his forehead to your shoulder, breathing hard.
“fuck… you feel so good,” he groans, hips starting to move in shallow thrusts. “always so perfect for me.”
the sex is messy, uncoordinated, and full of laughter. every time he thrusts too deep and you both wobble, you crack up. when he tries to change positions and nearly falls off the bed, you have to pull him back by his shoulders, giggling the whole time.
“i love you so much,” he keeps murmuring between thrusts, kissing your face all over — your lips, your nose, your eyelids. “my wife. my best friend. i love fucking you.”
“i love you too,” you moan, legs tightening around him. your hands roam his back, nails lightly scratching as pleasure builds despite all the giggles. “harder, hoon— please.”
he tries, really tries, but ends up laughing again when he loses his rhythm. “i’m sorry— i’m so drunk but i still want you so bad.”
you cup his face and kiss him deeply, hips rolling up to meet his. the mood shifts gradually — still giggly and loving, but the pleasure starts taking over. sunghoon’s thrusts become deeper, more purposeful, even as soft chuckles escape between moans.
“right there,” you whimper, eyes fluttering. “feels so good…”
“yeah?” he pants, pressing his forehead to yours so he can look at you. “gonna make my pretty wife cum?”
you nod frantically, and he reaches between you to rub your clit, a little sloppy, but perfect.
your orgasm hits you first — sudden and sweet, making you moan his name as your body tightens around him.
sunghoon follows right after, burying himself deep with a broken groan, hips stuttering as he fills you up. he collapses on top of you, both of you breathing hard and still laughing breathlessly.
“we’re a mess,” you whisper, running your fingers through his sweaty hair.
“the best kind of mess,” he replies, kissing your jaw lazily. he rolls off you but immediately pulls you into his arms, spooning you from behind. his hand rests possessively on your stomach as he nuzzles into your neck.
“best night ever,” he mumbles, already sounding half-asleep. “i love being drunk with you. i love having giggly sex with you. i love being your husband.”
you smile and intertwine your fingers with his. “and i love you more.”
even as sleep starts pulling you under, soft giggles bubble up again when sunghoon sleepily tries to kiss your shoulder and misses. he eventually succeeds, pressing a warm, lazy kiss to your skin.
“round two in the morning?” he whispers.
“only if you’re not hungover,” you tease.
“deal.”
you fall asleep tangled together, bodies warm, hearts full, and the quiet sound of shared laughter still lingering in the air long after the party ended.
⤷ Client Scenario: A fake date at the bar your ex bartends at turns into a perfectly messy moment and a new connection.
⤷ Case Warnings: public sex, fingering, dirty talk, overstimulation
⤷ WC: 2.6k
♡ Stray Hearts File: 004 of 010
♡ Event Masterlist | ⋆｡‧˚ʚ Masterlist ɞ˚‧｡⋆
Your match has already arrived.
You'd run but you're wearing heels. Crickets are singing and you're freaking out while cutting the line at the nightclub your now ex boyfriend bartends at to meet your fake hot date… a normal Tuesday.
The club is packed in a semi-calm way. Not overly rowdy with rainbow lights like other clubs. Your ex used to call it “fancy chaos” but you figured that was a lie since he was so good at those. You're looking around as soon as you get in but try not to make it obvious. The app says he's here. He said he'd wear Gucci and you figured he was a showy asshole—that's why you picked him.
You don't see him by the bar, or the tables, the dance floor is a mess and—
“Looking for me?” You jump, turn fast with a hand over your chest.
“Jeez—” there he is. Tall enough, Gucci jacket and matching pants. Perfect for the club, perfect for you.
“Scared you?” You nod, taking a slower breath. “I meant to.” Oh, he's weird? The secret kind that sneaks up on you… you’ve encountered worse. He holds out his hand and you take it slowly. Very slowly.
“Lee Minho, but you knew that.” He doesn't smile, isn't condescending, just straight to the point. You can work with that. You tell him your name and he hums like he already had your star chart memorized.
You get right to it after that. “My ex is over there, I was thinking—” he cuts you off, smooth, laces his fingers with yours
“Follow my lead.”
“Oh… okay.”
He starts leading you across the dance floor, hand warm and it's now that you get to take him in… this man is thick. Chest and thighs and just wow.
When you get to the bar your ex is flirting with some girl while her boyfriend right beside her, fitting. Minho leans on the bar facing him and turns your back to him, he guides you closer, close enough to look comfortable. Close enough to look taken.
“If this is going to work you have to look madly in love with me.” He doesn't smile, he smirks, big difference. There's something dark to it. Something that's five steps ahead.
He's right though. You snap yourself out of staring and smile at him, a real smile. You lean a touch closer, lay your hand closer to his and laugh at nothing at all.
Lights, camera, action.
Minho smiles now, perfect and wide and says the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard.
"You ever think about how fucked we’d be if horses were carnivores?” you lose it, cause he's right and also wow. That laugh is just what he needed, though it is beautifully distracting. Minho looks down the bar and your ex is looking over like he’s trying to figure something out. Good. Minho goes again.
"Imagine being the first person to see a cow and deciding to drink whatever came out of it.”
You cover your mouth this time, leaning into him. “Ew.”
“Exactly.” He hums, eyes lighting up a bit. Gosh, you do have a pretty laugh, he's sure he'd recognize it too. “Imagine that. Warm white stuff from under a cow… let me drink it.”
“I mean, it's not too different from other things.” You say it before you can access the sense to stop. Minho's eyebrows raise, his head tilts a bit, and that damned smirk is back.
“Oh, we're gonna have some fun.” Then he raises his hand for the bartender. “Buckle up, buttercup.”
Your ex sees him raise his hand and his reluctance tells Minho that he figured out it's you. He sends a co-worker over but Minho keeps looking at your ex. “Mm mm.” He motions towards him, smiling. “We want him, right princess?” Minho's hand finds your waist, sweet and warm and a little dizzying. You play along, nodding sweetly.
“Yeah, he makes my drink perfectly every time. I think it's called—”
“Denial is a river?” Minho suggests smoothly and you have to bite your lip not to laugh.
“That one, yeah.” The man behind the bar couldn't care less. He calls over your ex and tells him that he'll switch with him. Minho sees the moment your old flame tried to make himself burn bright enough to miss.
“What can I get you?” His voice makes something happen in your chest. Not good, not anymore. It's more like anxiety. You don't know how but Minho notices, he squeezes your waist just slightly and you look up at him to find him already looking at you.
“What do you want, baby?” He looks over at your ex. “Give her a second, yeah? She's the cute thoughtful type.” Minho walks you through some drinks options niceeee and slow and affectionate. At one point you find yourself moving in closer. There's something about him that's magnetic, like he's making space for you to slip right into him.
“Give me something strong.” You look your ex in the eyes when you say it, borrowing some of Minho's courage to throw in a smile too. “Shaken and make it pretty.”
You can see that he has something he'd like to say, maybe ask why you're here or when you moved on. It's been months and he's been with half this damn club, now it's your turn even if it's fake. Minho coos something sweet when you finally order, hand wandering a bit lower on your hip for show… you think.
“I'll make mine simple.” the smile that he gives your ex belongs to an anime villain. “I'll have a gin martini. Hendrick's if you have it. Stirred for exactly thirty seconds, not shaken. Extra cold. Lemon twist, no olives. In a chilled Nick and Nora glass if possible. If not, a coupe is fine. And could I get a sidecar of sparkling water with a lemon wedge? No seeds with the lemon, please.”
Your throat burns from trying not to laugh. Your ex looks at him and just stares for a second before asking “are you serious?” Minho's smile drops clean off his face, he stares, then asks, “do I look like I'm kidding?”
You're left alone in an instant. He starts making your drinks while you laugh into Minho's chest.
“What the hell is that order?”
“My usual.” He teases. His hand smooths up your back now and you stand straighter at the feeling “Hm?”
He looks at you like he's actually trying to memorize something. His fingers tickle down your spine and you squirm a bit. “Sensitive?”
You hum a pathetic sound then try to hide it. Minho presses his fingertips a bit firmer, “Cute.” then his hand is gone. You almost protest the absence, almost grab his wrist, but then your drinks arrive.
Your's first, then his. Neither of you look at your ex anymore. You still feel the ghost of his fingers tickling your spine and Minho's suddenly very interested to see where else makes a pretty girl squirm.
“Ya’ll got a bathroom?” Minho asks, still looking at you for a lingering second before tilting his head expectantly at your ex.
“Yeah.” He doesn't say anything else and Minho scoffs.
“Finish the job, you look like you're quick. C'mon.” You laugh this time. Hard. So hard that you snort. Your hand comes up to cover your mouth and the corner of Minho's mouth turns up just a touch. He likes that more than he expected.
Your ex hates this, his face says it all. “They're to the right down the hall.”
“Single stalls? One room?”
“Stalls.” he answers, fed up.
“Am I bothering you?” Minho asks, voice a little meaner now. “Cause I can take my pretty girl to the bathroom and leave you to your lonesome.”
He glares between you and Minho, then again. “No sex allowed in the bathrooms.”
Minho hums, standing straighter with his hand nearly on your ass. “Who said anything about sex?” You're just impressed by how well he's showing off. This is money well spent. Minho fixes his jacket, flashing the Gucci stripes a bit and enjoying your exes glare. “But don't worry, she'll be quick.” You look up at Minho at that one. You'll be quick? Not him? You don't miss that distinction.
Minho slaps some bills onto the counter and waves your boyfriend off. Once he’s gone he turns back to you, he doesn’t get to say a thing before you bring it up. “I'll be quick?” You turn into him, standing impossibly close now. Minho looks at you, eyes on yours.
“If you're as sensitive there as you are on your spine, yeah, you will be.” You're sure your neck is starting to flush, ears too. It's hot, maybe it's your drink that you haven't even tried yet. You just need an excuse.
“What's your plan here?” You bite your lip and Minho's eyes drop to it. He takes a second, just a quick quiet second before cupping your chin and tilting it up a bit. Just a bit.
“The plan's to make you come.” Yeah. You're definitely flushed. “If that's what you want. I think I can make it worth your money.”
You finally lay a hand on his chest, messing with the buttons on his jacket. “You think you can?”
Minho raises an eyebrow, hums an amused laugh then looks out to the dance floor for a second, just a second. “Don't challenge me, I'll get carried away.
Your hand slips inside his jacket, so close to the warm skin beneath his shirt. Teasingly close. “Maybe I want you to.”
That does it. “We're going. Now.” He doesn't have to tell you twice. You let him take your hand again and lead you towards the hall opposite the bathrooms. You look back, confused.
“Where are we going?” He doesn't slow, just calls back an answer.
“I'm not fucking you in a bathroom.” Aw, he's considerate.
Minho leads you towards an empty VIP booth with a half cleared table. There's barely a curtain and it's busy enough that none of the drunk partygoers around you would be able to tell that you're ruining your panties. Minho slides in first, guiding you behind him and shifts you onto his lap. There's more than enough room and you're more than comfortable taking up space like this.
“Be honest.” Minho looks up at you with eyes that shine unfairly bright. “Does this cost extra?” He scoffs, hands smoothing up your waist. He watches his fingers brush over the curves of your dress.
“I'm not guacamole.” You laugh again, hard just like before. Minho smiles, actually smiles. “That damn laugh.” Then he's kissing you. His mouth seals over yours in a hot wet kiss that makes you moan into him. His hands slot on your waist and yours on his chest. Your hips move in small rocking motions with every kiss. You can't help it.
Minho breaks the kiss first, laying his forehead against yours while guiding your rocking into full on riding. “Pretty girl.” He situated you so that you're straddling one thigh, hips rocking over the rough denim. Your panties are growing stickier by the second. The pressure feels like sex itself. “Pretty laugh makes me wanna hear her moan.”
“Wanna hear you too.” Minho smiles, kisses you harder just cause that was so damn cute of you.
“We're gonna take care of you tonight, kitten.” Then his hands start guiding firmer. Your sopping core is dragged forward, back, forward. Your panties roll to the side themselves and Minho presses up for perfect pressure.
You swallow a sound and he squeezes your hip. “Nuh uh.” he starts bouncing his leg a bit, making himself vibrate against you. “Let me hear it, right in my ear, c'mere.”
You lean close enough for your lips to brush the shell of his ear, close enough to smell his shampoo and cologne—and you moan. Sweet and a little deep and Minho swears it's perfect.
“Oh, baby.” He guides you faster, your grinding turns into dry humping and moans turn into whines. There's a wet spot on Minho's jeans from his cock leaking through layers of fabric, then another from your flooding cunt.
“Minho—” that gets a groan from him. His hands cupping your ass now, kneading and squeezing while you whisper and babble against his neck. “I'm gonna cum.”
He keeps pace, doesn't change it, something your ex could never seem to do. That alone makes you wet his jeans. It's a gush, not squirting but just as messy. Minho fucking loves it.
“She's so messy.” You pull back and look at him with dazed eyes and wet lips. “Let's see”
His hand finds wet flesh under your dress, swiping his fingers over your clit, then small circles. Your spine bows, hips bare down, still sensitive from your high. You whimper, he hums.
“Pretty kitty is sensitive, huh?” The tips of his fingers press inside then back. “Can you take two?” You nod before sense can catch up.
Minho likes that. “Good girl.” Then he's pressing in. His fingers sink deep into gooey flesh and your mouth parts with no sound. It's sensitive. It's tight and burns so good.
“Minho, m’ gonna make a mess.” He looks at you like he's waiting to be told when he asked. His fingers move once, pull back and sink.
“Give me something to clean up.” It's over after that. He moves like he wants to see you split in two.
You're straddling both his thighs now, spread open by him. The squelch your cunt cries out is obscene, so much so, that someone at a neighboring booth looks up to the ceiling like they heard it. You can't help but chuckle, and Minho stops completely.
“Do that again.” You tilt your head, mutter a small “huh?” But he's already tickling your spine. You yelp and chuckle, nails digging into his shoulder.
Minho's teeth sink into his bottom lip and his fingers curl inside of you, deeper, perfect. “So tight when she laughs.” You're holding on by a thread. Your foreheads on his again, he's talking you through it with sweet names and praise.
“That’s it, keep it up, baby.”
“Gonna make me cum, looking so pretty...”
“Gimme another one, kitty, c'mon.”
Your orgasm is creeping up on you, each and every methodical curl of his fingers is bringing you closer and closer, you're close, so close.
“Min—” you hide your face in his neck and let out a wet and long moan. Drooling a bit into the collar of his jacket. Minho's fingers keep going, helping you ride it out, but his rhythm falters. His breath catches and he groans something broken deep in his chest. “Did you just…”
His breathing picks up just a touch uneven. You pull back, look down, and both wet spots are spreading. He came in his jeans. Finished untouched. Unreal. Impressive.
Minho looks up at you, eyelids fluttering like he's still a bit dazed when he says— “kiss me.”
You do. You meet him in the middle and kiss him softly. Soft enough to hear his slight hum when your warmth settles. “Perfect.” He murmurs then kisses you again.
“He's” kiss “an” kiss “idiot”
That makes you chuckle against him, soft and sweet. Minho pulls back then, looking at you for a moment. You’ve cracked him a bit. He blames that laugh. He loves it a little too much for this to be fake.
“So.” You murmur, rubbing the tip of your nose over his. “Venmo or Zelle?”
Minho hums, face serious, humorless. “Your number.” You lift your brows at him, smile a bit and he gives you that damn smirk. “I'll take that instead."
a/n: I have been soooooo in my head about this series. I hope that you enjoyed!
childhood friends to lovers | high school au | fluff
“Are your parents home?” Anton whispered in the dark. Only the vague outline of his head and the occasional glare of lightning flashing across his glasses made his presence visible. His voice melded with the distant sound of thunder looming closer with each passing minute. The constant patter of rain hitting your window, wind whistling through the tiny crack you had left open by accident. You had been too worried about letting your friend’s drenched self inside. After all these years, he was still dumb enough to use your fear of storms as an excuse to run down the street in the rain and hold you while you tremble.
“No,” your face pressed further into his chest, flinching at another lightning strike shortly followed by a loud rumble. Anton’s hand ran through your hair down to your upper back. He hummed in understanding, you could feel the vibration against your cheek. “Dad’s still in Hong Kong and Mom took a night shift,” you mumbled. Fingers curling around the fabric of his t-shirt sleeve. The familiar scent of his family’s laundry detergent soothed you.
“I’ll stay the night then,” he stated as if it were a given. It was only when your parents were gone that you could spend the night together. This had been your reality since your bodies started changing and your once innocent sleepovers became a one-way ticket to teen pregnancy in your parents’ minds. Not that you and Anton ever expressed interest in partaking in that sort of activity. Well, apart from the ‘exploring our bodies’ phase you had when you were five years old. But by the time you two had entered middle school you couldn’t even bring those instances up, much less reenact them.
The only people your parents had to blame for that concern were themselves. They were the ones that decided to raise you and Anton side by side. Not close enough to consider your relationship sibling-like, although that may have been their intention. Instead you walked the fine line of infatuation between lifelong friends and passionately in love.
Confessions had already been made. Anton’s was a beautiful piece of music that wouldn’t make sense to anyone but you. Yours was you learning the piece by heart and humming it back to him whenever he got overwhelmed. Confessing your love for each other had been easy when neither of you truly understood what love was. All you knew was that you couldn’t live without the other.
Your parents seemed to understand that it was only a matter of time before you’d cross every line with each other. Make that final connection. As it was, one didn’t hurt without the other also hurting. Everything from tears to laughter were shared between the two of you. It wouldn’t be long before they wouldn’t be able to recognize where one’s heart ended and the other’s began.
“Is that alright with you?” He doubled checked in that wavering tone of his. The one he got every time he didn’t want to presume what you wanted despite having known you for fifteen years. His thumb stopped its smooth caress of your ribcage, hand splayed out at the center of your torso. It was early on into those fifteen years that he discovered how skin-to-skin contact calmed you down. It had been the only way to get you to sleep from the moment you were born to the age of six. Back then his small hand would settle itself on your flat stomach. Now, his large teenage hand took up a majority of your skin. Thumb accidentally brushing the underside of your breast if he wasn’t careful.
Your timid nod reassured him enough to keep up the soothing touches. He sighed as particularly dramatic lightning and thunder combination made you gasp, hand slipping to your back to hold you closer. The storm was over your heads, winds shaking the windows, rain hitting the glass. You whimpered out his name, clutching his side as if your life depended on it. Anton cupped your face. Eyes tracing the haunting shadows on your ceiling for a way to ease your mind. You were already in the comfort of your bed in his arms.
“I made another one,” he leaned a bit forward to whisper in your ear. “Do you want to hear it?” For a moment you didn’t respond. Too caught up in the torrential downpour outside. Anton gently lifted your chin so he could see your face properly. Glossy eyes glancing into his own. “Another song?” His thumb caressed your cheek. Eyelashes fluttering, you sighed carefully. Lips pulling into an appreciative smile.
Your fingers remained curled in the fabric of his shirt as he searched his bag for his headphones. He did everything diligently. Connecting the device to his phone, checking the volume, laying you down on your back, settling the headphones carefully over your ears. “Just close your eyes and listen.” His cold hand eased itself back over the warmth of your bare skin. Fingertips brushing your hipbone where your pajama pants had sunk low.
The noise cancellation blocked the sounds coming from the storm, making the thunder seem like nothing more than a distant rumble. A soft melody began to play paired with your best friend’s breathy vocals. His voice soothing you as always. All your anxious thoughts and feelings evaporated. Breaths finally evening out. It was darker underneath your eyelids. The flashes of lightning barely appeared. You irrationally wondered if Anton had left. Lips pouty, you reached out for him. Your fingers found his collar, then his neck.
“I’m here,” he whispered, despite knowing that you couldn’t hear him. His hand left your side to rub up and down your arm for additional reassurance. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” You relaxed under his touch. Countenance turning into one of complete and utter peace. “I love you.”
It was light at first. Maybe a slight tingle, something brushing against your lips. You thought of it as a figment of your imagination. But then it came again, this time the sensation had a little more movement. Smooth and tender. You recognized it for what it was, though believing it was a much harder task. Your eyes fluttered open and sure enough there was Anton pulling away from the kiss. Staring down at you with those brown eyes through his signature glasses. Something twitched inside you, a lightness in the center of your chest that made you feel dizzy. Your hand tangled in his hair was the only thing keeping you sane.
He blinked slowly a few times while searching your face. Fingers sliding from your shoulder to your waist. After fifteen years, you should have expected this. A time when the physical affection became too much and not enough. When you needed more from each other than you had previously given. It felt as if you had loved Anton your whole life. As a friend, as something similar to a sister, as a longing crush, as a soulmate, and now, perhaps, as a lover.
Before you could draw him closer, Anton removed his eyewear, tossing it onto your nightstand. You smiled at his recklessness, pulling him in for another kiss by his shoulders. You held onto them as your lips worked in sync. Quiet hums and moans passing through the two of you until you were left breathless. Your legs parted, allowing for him to slot his body over yours. There was something about feeling the weight of him, the heat of him on top of you. Desire, not necessarily in a sexual manner, of wanting to be as close to him as possible, to merge your entire being with his own.
You were in love with your childhood friend. There was no need to deny or work around it. You would spend the rest of your life with him, as fate has chosen.
“Anton,” you breathed out against his lips. Eyebrows furrowed. One side of the headphones falling off. You were caught between pressing in for another kiss and pulling away in a fit of incredulous laughter.
He calmly shushed you, pecking your lips before going to your ear. “Just rest. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” You believed him, letting him place the headphones back over your ears right as his love confession began to play. He continued giving you lazy kisses until the two of you drifted off to sleep.
[ ﹏ l y r i c s : in which you play dangerous games with him and win ☆ myungjae x reader — 0.658k words established relationship!au suggestive fluff ]
the world comes to a halt when you place your chin on his shoulder, breath fanning over the skin of his exposed neck. well, myung jaehyuns world does, at least. time stops and he's aware (so aware) of the way your lips are curving up in amusement when you press the lightest of kisses under his jaw and he forgets to breathe the next half a minute.
the monitor in front of him is the only source of light in his otherwise dim studio. his headphones rest on their designated stand, keyboard barely visible, the LEDs turned off. you'd made yourself comfortable right by his left side, gazing at him working intently in silence until you'd grown restless. you hadn't meant to break his concentration this much (you absolutely did want his attention), but needs must.
"you're not being slick, right now." he mumbles, a pout steadily forming on his flushed face. you know he's enjoying the affection you're giving him late at night, so you roll your eyes.
"who says i'm trying to?" you press your lips over the rising pulse beneath the skin of his neck, giggling when he gulps, unintentionally tilting his head a little more to the side, giving you easier access. he's halted his movements with the mouse, willing himself to swing around to fully face you grinning mischievously at him.
"you," he sighs, failing to hide the shy lilt of his lips behind his hand. your boyfriend of two years still hasn't been able to get used to your occasional devilish advances, though no one ever catches him complaining. he's exactly where he wants to be as you stand and lean into him, hands stretching out to grab the armrests and caging him in his seat.
"yes?" you raise a knowing brow, faces inches away and jaehyun swears to all known heavenly beings that your eyes are glinting right now in a way that both scares and entices him (it's the screen he's left on reflecting in your eyes, but we let him believe whatever he desires, don't we?). he's fully into whatever game you're playing and it honestly breaks your heart just a bit to leaving him hanging.
jaehyun ends up chasing after your lips when you pull away in the last second. you plop on the edge of his bed, throwing your legs over one another, faking disinterest despite his indignation, "sorry, loverboy."
he blinks twice, letting the silence hang just a moment more before breaking into protests, "say sike right now!" jumping out of the seat he'd just melted into, he points accusingly at your innocent expression, "this is manipulation. you're manipulating me."
"who, me?" you gasp, "never!"
you yelp when he dives onto the bed as well, tackling you back with an oof. your uncontrollable laughter rings like a sweet chime in his hear while he's tickling you to high heavens and tears begin welling up on your lower lashes from exertion when he finally lets up with his attack.
you're breathless beneath him, trapped in the best way possible. you're looking up at him with the sweetest, most darling eyes and myung jaehyun's circuits shut down at the sight. he's lost in the way your grin stretches so adorably wide (in the way your chest is heaving up and down as you come back from your high and the way he wants to wipe your tears away with a kiss and, oh, a kiss — he almost forgets this has been your plan all along, getting him on top of you and oh so obsessed).
your eyes flutter shut as he presses a chaste kiss over your brow. you chuckle, letting him take his time on all of the features on your face. "you do realize that i win," wrapping both arms around his neck, you breathe in his scent, "right?"
jaehyun hums in agreement, mind occupied by all the things he plans on doing with you next.
[ ﹏ n o t i c e : send an ask (with group name) to be in the taglist ]
Feel what you do to me - Myung Jae Hyun (명재현) x f!reader
“Think about it,” she murmured. “You poke the bear,” Your stomach twisted not in fear, but anticipation. “He won’t be gentle after that,” she added, standing. “He’ll make sure you learn your lesson.”
content warning : sexting, video recording, fingering, oral (m!receiving), hair pulling, kissing, cream pie and it starting with second thoughts and finishing like you’d do it again without blinking.
word count : 2.5k
“Send him a sexy picture.” Jisoo didn’t even look up when she said it, scrolling through her phone like she hadn’t just dropped a verbal grenade onto the table. You stiffened. “Excuse me?” She finally glanced up, unimpressed. “I’m tired of hearing about how Jaehyun is gentle like he’s afraid you’ll break.” Your hand flew over her mouth. “Lower your voice,” you snapped. The guy behind her raised an eyebrow. You smiled sweetly. He looked away immediately.
Jisoo pried your fingers off and leaned closer, eyes glinting. “Think about it,” she murmured. “You poke the bear,” your stomach twisted not in fear, but anticipation. “He won’t be gentle after that,” she added, standing. “He’ll make sure you learn your lesson.” She walked away, heels clicking like a countdown. You sat frozen, pulse racing, already wondering what color lingerie would drive him insane.
Red. Obviously. If you were going to do this, you were going to commit. The two-piece stared back at you like it had been waiting its whole life for this moment and honestly, so had you. You’d always been too shy to wear it around him, but alone in your room with Jisoo’s encouragement haunting your conscience? Different story. You snapped pictures in the mirror, angling just right, blocking your face like a criminal protecting her identity. Sultry but mysterious. Confident but casual like this wasn’t absolutely terrifying. You changed poses, laughed at yourself, deleted half of them, then sat down on the floor with your legs up, scrolling through your favorites with a grin that felt dangerous.
You typed the message fast, before doubt could tackle you to the ground. I can’t wait for you to rip this off me tonight. Your finger hesitated for half a second. Then you hit send like you were jumping off a cliff. The phone went face down. Your body buzzed, excitement crawling up your spine as you lay there wondering how long it would take before he saw it. It took two minutes.
Your phone buzzed, the sound sharp and insistent in the quiet of your bedroom. You snatched it up so fast the screen glowed with his name and a simple, tantalizing opener: Oh, love. You bit down on your lip, a smile already tugging at the corners. The little text bubble pulsed, a mischievous ellipsis of promise. Here it comes, you thought, sinking back into the ground. Did you buy that for me? Your breath hitched. A warm, slick heat instantly pooled low in your belly. Damn him for knowing exactly what that question did to you.
Yes, baby. You typed back, the admission feeling like a secret passed in a crowded room. His reply was almost immediate. Now this is a surprise. You waited, holding the phone, the silence stretching just long enough for you to wonder. Then, another buzz. Touch yourself for me. You blinked. A startled, breathy laugh escaped me. What? Did he just…?
What, You sent back, playing dumb, your heart doing a chaotic salsa against your ribs. The next message didn’t hesitate. You know what I mean. Touch yourself. Before you could even process the command, another text lit up the screen, the words bold and utterly shameless. Go sit in front of the mirror. Spread those pretty legs of yours and play with yourself. And make sure you send me the video.
Heat flooded your cheeks, a delicious contradiction to the throbbing ache between your thighs. “You’re ridiculous,” you muttered into the empty room, but you were already sitting in front of the mirror. Ridiculous. And utterly, completely perfect. With a carefree shake of your head and a thrill zipping through your veins. Well, if he wanted a show, who was you to deny your favorite audience?
The phone was a cold and hard in your fist, the only solid thing in a world tilting on its axis. You braced the heel of your foot against the floor, a lone point of stability, and tapped the red record button. The lens focused on the evidence the dark, damp bloom spreading against scarlet lace. Your finger, when it came, was a traitor. It traced the swollen seam of your slit through the soaked fabric, a slow, torturous drag. A full-body shiver racked you, and a moan, raw and helpless, tore from your throat as your head fell back. The lace was a flimsy barrier, a joke. You hooked a thumb into the side, pulling it away, exposing the slick, needy flesh beneath.
The first slide of your finger inside was a revelation, a stolen gasp. Then another. your body took over, hips lifting off the ground’s cool surface to meet the thrust of your own fingers. The sound was obscene a wet, rhythmic slap that echoed in the tiled room, pornographic and perfect. You fucked yourself with a frantic, building pace, the coil in your gut winding tighter, tighter. The only words your brain could stitch together were a broken mantra. Fuck. Jaehyun. Fuck.
It shattered you. Pleasure erupted, white-hot and vicious, wringing a choked scream from your lungs. your body convulsed around your fingers, waves of sensation pulling you under. For long moments, there was only the ragged sound of your own breathing, sawing in and out of your chest. Trembling, You hit stop. The video was a raw, graphic confession. You sent it without a second thought.
The response was immediate. A photo flooded your screen. The thick, hard line of him straining against the dark wool of his suit pants, the outline unmistakable, demanding. your mouth watered. Beneath it, the text: I’m on my way home. I want you on your knees when I get there. A fresh, dizzying rush of heat pulsed through you. You typed back, your fingers clumsy. Yes, Jaehyun. His reply was instant. Good girl.
You were on your knees, the plush carpet a faint pressure against your skin, when Jaehyun came through the bedroom door. He didn’t pause. Didn’t speak. Time seemed to bend around his entrance, the air cracking with a sudden, static charge. One second you were kneeling, the next his hand was fisted in your hair, wrenching you up to meet him halfway. His kiss wasn’t a greeting, it was a consumption. The taste of him winter mint and pure, unadulterated want flooded your senses as his mouth moved over yours with the desperation of a man starved.
When he broke away, panting, the look in his eyes was feral. All dark pupil, a hunger so profound it stripped everything else away. “Take my belt off,” he growled against your swollen lips, the words a hot, rough command. Your hands flew to his waist, fingers trembling but efficient. You never broke eye contact, that searing tether holding you captive as you found the cold buckle. The leather slid free with a sharp, definitive hiss. Your gaze remained locked on his as you unzipped his pants, the sound obscenely loud in the quiet room. You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down.
His cock sprang free, heavy and already fully hard, and the flushed tip landed a deliberate, claiming tap against your parted lips. A soft gasp escaped you, your mouth falling open in instinctive invitation. That was all he needed. His grip in your hair tightened to the point of sweet, sharp pain, anchoring you. There was no gentle preamble, no soft, whispering Jaehyun. That man was gone, vanished behind this primal, demanding force. He fed himself into your mouth, not with a thrust, but with a relentless, conquering push, filling you, stretching you. A choked sound vibrated in your throat, and he swallowed it with a dark groan of his own. Then he began to move.
He fucked your mouth with a hard, rough rhythm, his hips pistoling, setting a pace that was merciless and absolute. Each deep drive brushed the back of your throat, each withdrawal a slick, lewd promise of more. Your eyes watered, tears blurring the viciously beautiful sight of him above you, jaw clenched, watching himself disappear between your lips. The sounds were filthy wet, gasping, the soft slap of skin, his ragged curses raining down on you like blessings.
One of your hands clutched at his thigh, the muscle iron-hard beneath your palm, the only anchor in the storm he was wreaking upon you. The other hand, you slipped between your own legs, finding the desperate, throbbing heat there, already soaked. You moaned around him, the vibration pulling a ragged snarl from his chest. “That’s it,” he gritted out, his pace never faltering. “Feel what you do to me. Take it. All of it.” And you did, drowning in the taste of him, the feel of him, the beautiful, brutal ruin of his control as he used your mouth for his pleasure, turning you into nothing but a willing, desperate vessel for his need. And that’s what you wanted.
You pull back, a slow, slick glide that makes his hips jerk, and wrap your fingers around the base of him. You don’t break eye contact, watching his beautiful face fracture as you stroke him slowly, a rough twist of your wrist at the top that pulls a ragged sound from his chest. “Fuck, baby.” His voice is pure gravel, a broken prayer in the dim light. “Jaehyun.” Your own voice is a desperate whine, soaked in need. “Please fuck me.”
It’s the ‘please’ that does it. You see the last thread of his control snap, his pretty eyes going dark and wild. He folds for you, utterly and completely. In one fluid motion, he pulls you to your feet, his hands burning brands on your hips. His thumb hooks into the waistband of those same red lace panties, the ones that started this whole dizzying spiral. His gaze, heavy-lidded and molten, flicks up to yours. “Can I?” he whispers, the question a formality, a dark, sweet courtesy before the storm.
“Yes, baby.” The permission is barely out of your mouth before he obeys the unspoken violence in both of you. A sharp tear of lace, the sound obscene in the quiet room. Then his hands are under your thighs, lifting you like you weigh nothing, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles at the small of his back.
He doesn’t fumble. He reaches between you, his fingers guiding the thick, hot crown of his cock through your drenched folds, notching himself at your entrance. He holds you there, suspended, just for a heartbeat a torturous, perfect pause where you feel every frantic beat of your own heart against his. Then he sinks in. A slow, relentless, claiming slide that steals the air from your lungs. You cry out, a shattered sound, as he fills you, stretching you so perfectly it borders on pain. The moment he’s fully in, a groan rips from him, deep and visceral.
His arm bands around your back, a steel brace, and the hand under your thigh tightens, shifting you just so. And then he moves. He fucks up into you, hard and deep, each powerful drive of his hips punching a gasping moan from your throat. Your hands fly to his neck, clinging to steady yourself against the brutal, perfect rhythm. You meet him thrust for thrust, rocking down onto him, taking him even deeper, chasing the delicious friction that’s already coiling your insides tight. “That’s it,” he grunts against your ear, his breath scalding. “Take it. Fuck yourself on my cock. Just like that.” It’s filthy. It’s perfect. You’re both a mess of skin and sweat and shattered sounds, and you are so, so fucked in the best way possible.
You’re a whimpering, trembling mess on his cock, each raw, deep thrust scraping a broken sound from your throat. “Keep fucking me, baby,” you beg, the words a whining plea, your eyes glazed and unfocused as you look up at him. A dark, breathless laugh rumbles from his chest. “This is what you wanted, huh, baby?” he grunts, the muscles in his arms corded tight as he holds you, drives into you. “All that pretty teasing. Just to get ruined.” “Yes, fuck,” you gasp, arching to take him deeper, a delirious giggle bubbling up. “I wanted you to fuck me crazy.” His smile is a feral, beautiful thing. “Your wish,” he pants, snapping his hips up with a brutal new intensity, “is my fucking command.”
The world dissolves into pure sensation. “Ahh, shit, fuck!” you cry out, the coil inside you pulled impossibly taut. Desperate, you drag yourself up his body, your mouth finding his in a sloppy, frantic kiss. Your hands tighten around his neck, nails biting into his skin, as his arms become iron bands around you, crushing you to him, owning every inch of space between you. The rhythm turns punishing, primal. You can feel the tell-tale, frantic pulse of him deep inside you, the way his control is shattering. He breaks the kiss, his forehead dropping to yours, his breaths ragged gusts against your lips.
“Where…” he pants, the shyness in the question a stark, sweet contrast to the carnal act. “Where should I cum?” You pull back just enough to see the desperate need in his pretty, darkened eyes. Your answer is a low whisper. “In me.” A guttural, shattered “Fuck” is all he manages. His thrusts become erratic, a frantic, deep pounding. “I’m—I’m cumming, baby…” It’s the trigger that snaps your own restraint. “Fuck, me too, shit—” You clench around him, a vicious, pulsing tightness, and the feeling of him surrendering, spilling hot and deep inside you, drags your own climax screaming from your core. Wave after wave of blinding pleasure whites out your vision, your cries muffled against the sweat-slick skin of his shoulder.
For long, suspended seconds, you stay like that locked together, shuddering, the only sound your ragged, mingling breaths. Slowly, gently, he pulls out, a slow glide that makes you whimper at the loss, and lowers you until your feet find the floor. Your legs nearly buckle, but he holds you steady, his hands framing your face. He kisses you, slow and deep and devastatingly tender. “I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, the words a raw truth in the aftermath. A slow, sated smile curves your mouth. You lean into his touch. “As you should,” you whisper back.
warnings: lowkey mean!jaehyun, orgasm denial, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, cumming inside, hate sex, name calling, slight degradation.
wc: 1k (not proofread)
Myung Jaehyun is an asshole.
“F-fuck you.” You pant running out of breath, gripping his shoulders tightly, nails digging into his flesh from the tight grip you have on him.
“That's what we're doing darling.” He cooed into your ear as he pistoned his hips into you. He had you sitting on his desk, legs spread wide as he moved in and out of you.
He was really fucking mean.
You didn't even know why you'd agreed to go over to his place to help him study. Perhaps it was maybe because you had no other choice. He didn't even ask, just straight up demanded you to come over.
You should've made up an excuse, but you knew it wouldn't work anyway, cause he'd break into your dorm to drag you out at the end of day.
There is no rejecting him.
You should've been more careful about who you involved yourself with during your time in college, if only you didn't cross paths with him, your life would've been peaceful. You had the unfortunate incident of meeting him through your ex boyfriend's friend group.
Fingering you in class, skipping lectures just to fuck you in the restroom, breaking into your dorm and fucking you with his hand clasped over your mouth to not wake up your roommate.
And your ex boyfriend? Yeah he broke up with you before all this started, mainly because Jaehyun told him to do so, and he actually listened, no hesitation at all, he might as well have had Jaehyun's dick down his throat at that point.
You despised Jaehyun, or at least that's what you told yourself.
“I- fucking hate you. Asshole.” You cursed against his lips, he only smirked as he closed in the distance, capturing your lips with his and shoving his tongue inside your mouth.
His tongue was warm as it swirled against your own, you could taste the faint bitterness of a cigarette underneath the sweetness. He groaned into your mouth.
“You're talking a lot of shit for someone whose cunt leaks like a waterfall at the sight of me.” He pulled away, licking your bottom lip. “And the way it clenches around my cock, trying to fucking milk me huh?” He whispered, hands tugging your hair and pulling your head back as he leaves bite marks on your neck.
You could feel his tip kissing your cervix as he thrust inside, your walls stretching around his cock but also gripping him like a vice as if never wanting to let go.
The desk rattled as he moved, his other hand was splayed over it to keep it steady as he fucked your cunt really hard. After he was satisfied with the marks he left on you, he pulled back, letting go of your hair.
He grabbed the underside of your thighs and pushed them upwards, pressing your knees to your chest. Your hands flung down to grip the edge of the table.
He moaned when he felt your walls flutter around him, looking down at the place where you're both connected. He spat on your clit before watching it drip down onto his own shaft, forming a ring as he moved in and out.
Your folds glistened, he licked his lips at the delicious sight, mentally noting how he's going to eat you out later, but currently he's focusing on this now.
“Look at this pretty cunt, at least it behaves, unlike someone.” He mutters, drawing out his hips. You whimpered in response, feeling your abdomen tighten. You thought he would thrust back in again, but he doesn't.
The tightness dissipates immediately, not in a satisfactory way.
“You know, people typically don't cum on the cock of someone they hate. I should respect that.” He mocks you, bringing up your words from earlier, your eyes widened at the statement.
You were so close, his cock was still inside you, but not moving, you involuntarily clenched around him as your cunt ached, begging for him to keep moving.
“P-please Jaehyun—” You begged, your mind regretting the words you had uttered earlier. He shook his head.
“Look at you being desperate, do you want to cum that badly? Around someone who you claim to hate?” He questions, his hand pinching your clit cruelly before he tugged on it. You bit your lip, nodding frantically. He chuckled in a mocking manner.
“Beg, beg for it. Tell me you want to cum.” He commanded, raising an eyebrow. You looked at him with teary eyes, humiliation coursing through your veins, you didn't want to beg, but you also wanted to cum. So you swallowed your own pride.
“P-please I want to cum— I want to cum so badly Jaehyun, mhm— I'm sorry!” You pleaded, gasping when you felt him move again, but painfully slow.
“Is that all you slut?” He wasn't satisfied.
“P-please…” You shut your eyes, before taking a deep breath. “Please fuck me, make me cum, I want to cum around your cock so bad, please. I'm so sorry, I don't hate you— so please.” You pleaded harder this time, and when you opened your eyes, you saw Jaehyun's satisfied face, and so he began to pick up his pace.
He lets go of your thighs, letting your legs fall down as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you to the edge as leaned in, hugging your form. You wrap your arms around his shoulder for support, clinging on him.
The tightness builds up in your stomach again, it doesn't take long before it bursts, pleasure exploding all throughout your body as you let out a loud moan.
“Say you love me.” He grunts in your ear, knowing he too is near due to your walls clenching around him.
“I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you Jaehyun.” You obey mindlessly, chanting it over and over again quickly as you pant. He didn't need to hear anything more as he too cums shortly after, ropes of cum leaking inside your walls.
He sighed into your neck, pressing a small kiss to your collarbone, slowly riding out his orgasm.
“Let's study now, shall we?” He cheekily offers, pulling out of you, not bothering fixing you up.
