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@linophobic
⋆ gab ⋆ she/they ⋆ '97 ⋆ ⋆ i occasionally write and regularly reblog 18+ content, mdni ⋆ ⋆ skz dedicated sideblog ⋆ mh/hj biased ⋆ mainly write js ⋆ ⋆ ao3 ⋆
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⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ recent: a week off ݁˖ .✮ extra time ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 coming home anyway ⋆｡°✩
𑣲⋆ do not copy/translate/plagiarize my work
© stayuma.meowracha | do not edit and/or crop logo
I LOVE WRITING ANGST
my mom is still horrified that case 143 isn’t on the set list for this tour either
idk if this controversial but how do ppl not proofread their work…
kk smth WILL be posted tomorrow and im excited :)
if you saw smth posted NO YOU DIDN'T
ONLY YOU: AND THE CORPSE I LEFT IN THE ALLEY
pairing: serial killer!han x fem!reader
genre: dark romance, horror
summary: part two and the last one. (part one here<3) you’re absolutely ready to take your relationship with jisung to the next level, and that’s exactly what you do, but it doesn’t only come with his devotion, but also his real personality. and minho’s real personality, too.
warnings: non idol au, jisung is still dumb, graphic violence, blood, mentions of gore, mentions of nudity, obsessive behavior, cursing, homicidal behavior/psychopathy, brutal codependency, obsessive love, manipulation, heated arguments, sexual content(handjob, premature ejaculation, unprotected and mentions of protected p in v, mentions of pubic hair and anal fingering and period sex, mouth spitting/fingering)
word count: 24k
minho is moving around the kitchen. making coffee. in a tiiiight black shirt, dear god that looks good on him, sipping his drink while han is hanging on you.
“he’s fine.” minho says. “just give him five more minutes of head scratches and he’ll be good for the rest of the night. you’re doing great, by the way. seriously.”
evil bitch.
jisung is so fucking happy. ever since you started staying over more, his life is good. constant smile on his face, eyes shiny whenever they land on you, whole body focused on, controlled by you.
he looks beautiful when he’s like this.
he follows you everywhere. not in a scary way(yet), but like you’re brushing your teeth? he’s standing behind you, chin eventually on your shoulder. you’re trying to make coffee? he’s behind you with his arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder again, swaying. you sit on the couch? he’s immediately on the floor between your knees, head in your lap, big boba eyes looking up at you.
he looks so genuinely beautiful it’s hard to remember he’s the same guy who comes home covered in someone else’s insides sometimes. well, hard to remember for minho.
oh right minho, minho is even more satisfied. it’s so sick but he never stops it. you bring the good out of jisung. so minho enables it.
oh he’ll bring you both food while jisung is on you on the couch. definitely not to keep you there longer. and ohhh, shit, he’ll accidentally forget to wake you up early so you end up spending the whole morning with jisung’s face buried in your skin while he sleeps like a fucking baby. he’ll text you during the day “he’s been staring at the door for an hour waiting for you, just a heads up :)” with zero shame.
evil, evil man.
well, ethically evil. he’s doing good with this, after all… (he didn’t care enough to do anything about it as long as there was no easy potential solution like this. he’s doing this so he doesn’t have to clean more blood.)
you’re… suspecting something, sure, but both boys are just so magnetic that… that you go with it. it feels impossible to say no. every night now you’re at their apartment. sometimes you tell yourself it’s just for a few hours, just to make sure jisung gets enough of you, but most nights you end up sleeping over. minho always makes it sound so reasonable. he’s impossible not to listen to.
jisung is fucking clueless about his own feelings. he doesn’t realize how intense it is, he just knows that when you’re touching him everything feels happy. that makes him carry on, that gets him, keeps him fine.
how do you feel about all of it? it’s exhausting. you like jisung, you really do. it’s endearing how simple he is, how sweet, he doesn’t play games, he doesn’t lie, he looks at you with genuine want. you appreciate that, being needed that much feels really good.
you’ve started sleeping in his bed more often than the couch because he gets anxious if you’re too far away. he’s sweet then. you can tell he really likes you and your company, that he’s completely comfortable, 100% loosened up around you. you can feel he loves you.
minho keeps pushing the boundaries. he’s good at this shit.
but oh, jisung will sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and just stand in the doorway of whatever room you’re in(when you’re not sleeping next to his big ass, of course), staring with those big clueless eyes. if you wake up or notice him, if then you ask what’s wrong he says “i woke up and you weren’t next to me. can i come lie down?”
you let him.
you care about him.
even though that is giving up more and more of your own space, your own time, your own life.
it’s flattering, though.
you’ve never had anyone look at you the way jisung does. it’s addictive. being the center of both his and minho’s attention is… amazing.
mostly jisung’s. minho leaves you two alone nowadays. like now.
he left twenty minutes ago. shrugging on his jacket, talkin bout sum “gonna go meet chan and innie for a bit. you two good here?” mind you jisung was glued to you. you two were more than good.
you nodded, told minho to have fun, and now it’s just you and jisung on his bed. the cats are somewhere else in the apartment. you hope they’re having fun. the little guys.
you’re both sitting cross legged facing each other.
“today i went to the store with minho.” he’s telling you, the babe. “they had the orange juice with the little bits in it. i like the bits. minho said i couldn’t get three cartons because we already have two at home but i told him the bits are better than the smooth kind.”
“mhm.”
“then we saw a dog outside. it was small. smaller than the cats. it looked at me and i looked at it and i thought maybe i could pet it but minho said no because it might bite. i don’t think it would bite me. i’m big. dogs like big people i think. do you like dogs?”
“i love them.”
“yeah. cats are nicer because they climb on me but dogs might be okay too if they don’t run away.”
the longer he talks the more… into it he gets. he doesn’t even seem to notice he’s slowly moving toward you on all fours now. it’s genuinely pathetic and mirrors the fact that he’s a serial killer perfectly, if we look at it the right way.
“and then at the store there was this lady who dropped her bread. i picked it up for her and she said thank you and smiled. her smile wasn’t like your smile though. yours is nicer.”
“thank you.”
his face is only a foot away from yours.
“i bought minho a shirt he said he liked. he was very happy.”
“yeah, he told me about it.”
the space between you keeps getting smaller.
he’s just drawn to you.
his hands are on the mattress on either side of your crossed legs.
tension. you feel it. sexual, but not aggressive.
“today felt long without you.” he says.
his mouth is so close now. you can feel his breath brushing your lips when he speaks. you’re obviously thinking something that didn’t even cross his empty mind yet.
he has no idea what he’s doing to the tension. he never experienced this before, how could he know?
so you, can’t help it anymore, take it into your own hands. you cup his face gently, palms on his warm babe cheeks, watching his pretty face. your eyes are shining.
he stops talking. his eyes get wider. stares at you, confused and waiting, breath stopping. now he can feel that something is up.
your noses brush first.
then your lips touch his.
it’s his first kiss. you can tell so easily. his mouth is unsure, bad. he freezes completely, whole body, lips parted, not knowing how to move.
you press your mouth a little harder, tilting your head, showing him. he makes an adorable little noise.
his lips start to move then, copying you. well, trying to. awkward. really bad but you’re a bad bitch so you appreciate the effort. he presses back too hard at first, then too soft, even he can feel that oh shit he doesn’t know how to do.
he moans when you part your lips and gently lick into his mouth.
he shivers when your tongue touches his. he never thought it’ll feel like this. it’s… making him brutally hard tho. he moans again the moment you stroke along it. he tries too. fails. tongue slips next to yours. you take the control back, for the both of you’s sake.
he has no idea what he’s doing. it shows. his mouth chases yours when you pull back the tiniest bit, lips smacking wetly as he tries to keep contact.
you kiss him deeper to reassure the poor boy and he lets out another moan, so overwhelmed. his tongue tries to push back but it’s lame, sliding too far, then retreating because he got scared.
“mmh… mmmhh… ah—” okay sungie.
you keep it slow, showing him how it’s motherfucking done,,you suck gently on his bottom lip and he whines. pathetic babe. when you slide your tongue along his again he shudders, his dumb little knees actually buckling, kind of, his hips twitch forward, his fingers curl into the sheets.
he’s panting between kisses, mouth open, lips shiny and swollen and wet and both of you can feel how wet they are, but everytime you pull away even a millimeter he leans forward chasing you with another needy sound. little bitch.
minutes pass and he still hasn’t figured out a rhythm.
“mmmmmhh— mmh— ahh—”
okay, shit, we get it.
you tilt your head the other way and deepen it again. you get a moan right into your mouth when you suck on his tongue gently. he’s breathing hard through his nose, hot on your cheek.
it’s so intimate. sweet. mammal. like a first pancake. bad. but edible. next one will be better.
you pull away a little and he whines, mouth open, tongue out. he’s lost without yours. you kiss him again immediately to calm him the fuck down and the relieved moan he lets out is clit tickling.
one of his hands go to your knee. there we go. he’s learning.
you pull back, further away now. your lips part with such an erotic wet sound.
he immediately clamps one hand over the huge bulge in his sweats. presses down hard, trying to hide it and rub some relief into it at the same time. his lower lip is trembling. spit shines on his swollen lips and chin. he looks so fucking lost and so fucking good.
so pathetic.
“y/n, i really like you.” he cries out. “i like you so much it makes my chest do things and hurt. when you’re not here i feel bad. but when you’re close i’m okay. i like when you touch me, i like when you talk to me, it makes my whole body feel funny, like nice funny. i think about you all day, even when i’m eating or petting the cats or walking with minho i’m thinking about your smell and your voice and how nice your skin is. i like it. i like you more than i like soonie and that’s a lot because i really like that cat.”
hand keeps pressing down and rubbing slow over his bulge.
oh, sweetheart.
“i like when you smile at me. your smile is the best one. it’s beautiful. other people smile but it doesn’t feel like yours, yours makes me feel… big. i know— i— minho says i’m really dumb but you never make me feel bad about it. i like you so much y/n. my heart does the fast thing and my dick does the hard thing and sometimes i have to touch it in my room thinking about you putting your fingers in my throat again. that felt really good. i want to feel good things with you all the time.” he takes a breath. “i want to have sex with you. i don’t really know how it works but i think i want that. with you. because i like you so much and my body wants to be close to you everywhere. is that okay? can we do that?”
oh.
ohhh.
that’s different.
you tilt your head. you genuinely can’t help but smile. oh, you caring woman, you reach out and gently brush your thumb over his trembling bottom lip, watching his eyes flutter. it’s brutally attractive, that happening in him. that was the best possible reaction he could give.
“you want to have sex with me, huh? that’s a big thing to say, sungie. do you even know what that means? all the touching and the naked parts and how it feels?”
jisung nods, squeezing at his cock. “i think so. minho told me some stuff once. i think about you and my… thing gets really hard and it aches and i rub it and it feels good but i think it would feel better if you were the one touching. i want to be close to you inside. is that sex? i want that with you y/n. only you.”
oh.
“i can see how much you’re pressing down on it.” you say, sympathizing. “does it hurt?“
he nods, lips trembling, looking down. “yes. it started when you kissed me. your tongue felt really nice and wet and now it won’t go down.”
fuck, he’s so easy.
you slowly push on his big chest with both hands, guiding him backward until he’s lying flat on the bed. he goes willingly, trusting, he would trust you with his fucking life, he does, letting you top him completely. his big body spreads out under you as you climb on him, knees on either side of his hips, straddling his waist.
you lean down and kiss him again, slower now, taking full control. he moans instantly, loud, helpless, this is the word, helpless. his hands end up on your thighs.
you lick into his mouth. again and again. he keeps moaning.
he’s still so bad at kissing, but he tries so hard, chasing every movement you make. really just wanting more of you.
while you kiss him you reach down and gently pry his hand away from his bulge. his fingers are trembling. you replace his hand with yours, pressing your palm on him.
“mmmmmhh—” his hips jerk up.
you rub him slowly over the clothes, feeling him up, getting familiar with his shape, how hard he is.
jisung whines, hips twitching again, chasing the pressure.
“this okay?” you mumble.
“everything is okay.” he practically cries out.
okay then.
you smile on his mouth and keep rubbing him slowly, palm going up and down, then around, then squeezing(oh minho would’ve loved getting this treatment too that night ANYWAYS). his hips hump up into your hand. you keep it slooooow, squeezing gently at the head, rubbing the heel of your palm along the shaft.
oh jisung is a mess of body reactions and emotions and noises. constant moaning, whimpering, little sounds. his mouth stays open on yours, tongue sliding around, messy, just lost.
it’s new, overwhelming, someone else touching him.
“it feels really good.” he whines.
you’ve barely done anything.
and the little whore has his mouth falling open, head tilting back into the pillow. humping up into your hand.
“mm, there we go, baby boy.”
oh that turned him on. (if it’s possible to turn him on more than this)
you hook your pretty fingers into the waistband of his sweats and underwear. “let’s get these off, yeah?”
he nods, whines, practically begs you with his eyes to do so.
oh you do. you keep it in mind that this must be his first time, so you get those off him gently. it’s even gentle, the way his cock springs out when the waistband stops tugging it down, slapping towards the crease between his thigh and hips.
the base is dark, darker than the rest of his shaft, the brownish color fades at the head. has a messy bush that hasn’t been trimmed in who knows how long, looks good on him. the skin is slightly textured. cute. probably around five, six inches. the whole thing twitches visibly, bobbing at your attention. hi to you too, jisung’s dick.
he makes a loud and embarrassed whine when you expose him. he wants to close his legs instinctively.
he’s beautiful.
you spit into your palm. his eyes go wide. shit. you’re going to touch him.
you wrap your spit slick palm around his cock.
the fucking moment your fingers close around him he lets out the loudest, whiniest sound of the night yet. voice crack with it and all. his back arches off the bed, bucking up into your fist, thighs trembling, his fingers gripping into you desperately.
“feels so good, feels so good.” yes baby, we can tell.
you start stroking him slowly, nice, tight, spreading your spit down.
on the very first full stroke his eyes roll back and he cries out loud, mouth wide open, tongue lolling out.
on the second his whole body jerks, shaking his head around from the overstimulation.
by the third stroke he’s panting, hips stuttering up into your fist, moaning loud, practically shouting.
he doesn’t even last five strokes. on the fourth pull his entire body seizes up, and ropes of cum shoot out of him, splattering across his stomach, your hand, fucking up into your fist with every spurt. toes curling, back arched, melting into the bed.
he looks so fucking adorable cumming too, oh your fucking god.
it goes on longer than you expected for a first orgasm with someone else. spurt after spurt, his cock twitching and jumping in your grip while he makes little sobs of pleasure. you keep your hand moving gently, getting the last weak dribbles out of him, using his own cum as lube now. it’s all over his dumb little tummy.
his cock didn’t soften yet. oh. sweet. you stop stroking anyway. just holding him in your wet hand now. he whimpers.
you sit there on top of him for a bit, your brain does the math.
you’re not on birth control.
he just came a ridiculous amount all over his own stomach and your fingers.
you’re about to fuck this needy little whore raw.
worst case scenario you’ll buy the morning after pill tomorrow. or hell, even get an abortion later if it comes to that. right now none of that matters because jisung is lying under you looking like the most pathetic, desperate, fuckable thing you’ve ever seen, and you need him inside you more than you need to be responsible.
fuck it.
you lean down and kiss him, loving, horny, tasting the moans he keeps feeding you. he whimpers into it, hands groping at your thighs. he… doesn’t even know what he’s feeling right now, only knows he cannot get enough of it.
when you pull back, a string of spit connects your lips. breaks. you sit up straight, grab the bottom of your shirt, and peel it off.
jisung’s eyes go wide.
he knows women’s upper bodies are private, he knows they’re sexual, he’s seen enough random porn on his phone (usually when minho wasn’t looking) to understand that seeing tits means something is actually about to happen. his mouth falls open, a shaky little breath escaping as he stares at your bra covered chest.
you reach behind your back, unhook your bra, and let it slide down your arms.
the second your tits are bare, jisung actually shudders. like fullbody tremble through him, his cock twitching, he gives a little sound as the cherry on top. his hands lift toward your tits, he wants to touch so bad, but then he freezes. minho’s voice is in his head(“and you gotta ask for consent, man. because girls appreciate tha— jisung, buddy, hands out of your mouth. jisung. JI—“) is leading him.
“can i touch them?” he asks.
you make your answer pretty fucking clear with the way you grab both his hands and place them on your chest yourself.
jisung’s eyes flutter and he lets out the most pathetic, grateful moan you’ve ever heard. he takes that as a very enthusiastic yes. he squeezes, gropes you, fingers digging into your skin, kneading and squishing. it hurts but he’s testing how they feel, let him learn.
he lifts them, pushes them together, squeezes, watching the way your skin bulges, jiggles, moves.
“they feel really good.” he mumbles.
“thank you, baby.”
he pinches your nipples a few times, quick little tugs that make you hiss(and he takes those as reactions he’ll think about later because one thought at a time) but mostly he’s just squeezing and groping, assuming they feel as good for you as they feel for him when he does it for himself(he’s pretty experienced with his own body, at least).
you take your hands off his cock, he doesn’t even notice, all his dipshit attention on your boobs so he doesn’t even register the way you push your pants and panties down, kicking them off.
now you’re completely bare too.
now his eyes drop to your pussy. he bites his lower lip.
you’ve got a tiny bit of hair, nothing crazy. nothing like the wild bush he’s sporting. he stares at it with wide dumb eyes, chewing on his mouth. in his empty head he thinks it looks really good on you, soft and pretty and somehow even more private and real than the completely hairless girls in the porn he’s seen. this paragraph was to demonstrate that he’s only watched (most likely unrealistic) porn before and never been in any situation like this ever.
his cock twitches. interested, happy. it’s fully hard now. his tongue hangs out a little.
whore. but also really excited and a little scared. but he trusts you.
you shift on his body until you’re hovering over his cock, knees on either side of his hips, so the basic riding position. you’re going to top the living shit out of this man.
jisung’s eyes are huge. he’s breathing fast through his mouth, watches you as you reach down and wrap your fingers around his cock. rock hard, even darker now, sticky. as you hold it under you, teasing the blunt head on your slick folds, rubbing it up and down your slit.
“y/n, y/n, pleaseeee..”
you drag the head over your clit a few times, letting him feel how a girl is built up, that he’s actually with a woman now and that he’s going to get fucked tonight.
he keeps making nervous little sounds. one of his hands shake, moves away from your tit, shake in the air, then slap down on your thigh. then keeps slapping because he’s so full of little nerves, tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap. he doesn’t know what else to do with all the energy buzzing inside his virgin little body.
“y/n, please.” he whines, tap tap tap tap tap tap tap. “i want to be inside, it’s aching so bad. can i go inside now? please? i’ll be good.”
he looks so cute.
and a little sad. so, shit, okay, let’s end the fucking around. but you’re teasing him longer next time.
you finally line him up properly, nicely position the blunt head right under your entrance, and start to sink down. first push is tight. you have to stop, fuck yourself on the tip a little, then carry on, the dark base of his cock slowly disappearing as you take him in.
jisung’s moans, whines and “aaah, yeah, uuuh—“ that’s encouragement.
you take it slow on purpose, make it a good first time, settle all the way down until your ass is on his hips, his cock buried in you, when you’re able to sit on him… he fills you perfectly. feels good.
for jisung it’s overwhelming, this is so his first time, his eyes roll back before he forces them open again so he can watch. “y/n, y/n, uhh, please. please, y/n.”
fuck, sure. you start moving in slow little circles first, grinding down on him. not lifting off yet on purpose, making his cock stir inside you, rubbing your spots. sounds wet.
his head leans back on the pillow, mouth hanging open, constant little “ah ah ah” sounds coming from his perfect little mouth. “feels so good, don’t stop, please don’t stop.”
well, you’ll eventually have to. this feels really good, jisung is not completely useless after all, but you’ll have to carry on sooner or later to actually get an orgasm out of this.
so after a long minute of just grinding in those circles, you switch to rocking back and forth. lean forward a little, holding yourself up on his pretty chest, barely hairy, and start sliding your hips forward and back. long, slow. this feels even better. his cock drags along your walls so good with your movements, you’ll have to give that fat head a kiss later, sexual or not sexual. deserves it for making you feel this good.
his hips start trying to thrust up to meet your movements, really chasing it, but he’s bad, just making little jerky pushes that only drive him deeper. but even this gets you wetter.
you try to stay like that for a while(even while he’s trying to fuck up into you), rocking, letting both of you adjust to the feeling(him so he doesn’t cum in a millisecond again, you because you’re just getting properly horny).
only when you’re both breathing hard and he feels comfortable in you do you finally start lifting up a little. you rise just a few inches, slow, then sink back down gently, taking him completely again.
jisung’s whole body jolts.
you lift halfway off his cock, feeling him in your walls, then slide back down until your ass meets his hips with a soft skin slap. you stay gentle, never slamming, always paying attention to how deep he goes and how his face twists with every slow move you make. you pay attention to him.
jisung looks up at you the whole time with those big, shocked, adoring eyes, mouth open, moaning nonstop.
you’re so good at this. keeping yourself controlled, keeping it slow, deep, making sure he feels every single sensation while you also go after your own pleasure on top of him. you’re a fucking sex god, y/n. he’s so lucky to have pulled a bad bitch like you. you’re literally made to date a loser like him too.
because look at him. he’s the cutest, whiniest, most reactive little bitch you’ve ever had the pleasure of breaking in.
and jisung talks to you in every possible second of the day(when not dozing off), always seeking your judgement, your support, your words, you. but now he feels so much pleasure that he can’t even form one pathetic word. you know this. you find it adorable.
his hands grip your waist, it’s to deal with the unbearable pleasure, painful. who cares. he’s getting impatient again, needy little bitch starting to really thrust up, but who are you to judge, you’re right there with him. the careful riding isn’t enough, you need more, faster, harder, more of jisung. your body needs it.
so you put one hand on his chest and start slamming down on him properly, ass slapping on his hips, while your other hand goes to your clit, rubbing with two fingers, chasing it just as much as he’s chasing it.
jisung starts thrusting up into you like a fucking animal, except this transformation doesn’t end in someone dying, just him moaning and crying out and whining louder.
makes your eyes roll back.
you slam down harder to match him, riding his soul out of him. your tits bounce. he likes seeing that. his cock slams inside you over and over, head bullying your walls, really fucking getting you into it.
it turns into pure rabbit fucking in seconds.
you’re both chasing each other, moaning and shouting and whining and groaning. to top that off, the pace is brutal. you’re both panting like dogs. skin slapping. bodies colliding hard enough to make the bed creak, to make skin jiggle, hurt.
it feels fucking incredible.
the stretch, the human heat, the want, the wetness, the friction, it’s all too much and not enough.
mindless. both of you.
jisung throws his head back, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open. always giving sound, not one silent second from him. you’re just as loud, but keep watching him as he yowls around.
it’ll be harder to balance yourself now but whatever, you take your hand off his chest, go up to his face, and slide two fingers past his open lips and push down on his tongue, pinning it to the floor of his mouth.
his eyes fly open wide, a muffled scream ripping out around your fingers. cums right then, screaming around you.
his hips slam up one final time, locking there, burying his cock as deep as it can go while he fills your pussy up. cums so hard his entire body shakes and jerks uncontrollably, thighs trembling, toes curling, back arched so hard he almost bucks you off.
the sight and sound of him gets you unbelievably turned on.
you grind and bounce on his oversensitive cock, using his cum as extra lube, rubbing your clit faster and faster. feels better, better, better—
your pussy clamps down around his cock. you stop moving, physically can’t anymore, and you moan so loud, cumming around him, back hunching as your thighs shake. the feeling of his mouth around your fingers making it brutally, unbearably intense.
so fucking intense that you have to get off him and flop down next to him. quiet now. spent.
his length slaps his stomach, going down now, shiny and messy with both of your fluids. his pretty head drops back on the pillow, mouth still open as he gasps for air.
he looks like death.
you lie there next to him, both of you breathing hard, the room smelling like sex and sweat and cum. your pussy is still pulsing faintly, leaking his load onto the sheets.
neither of you says anything for a loooong time.
both processing.
you turn your head to look at him. he’s staring at the ceiling with that same dazed, clueless look, lips trembling a little, cock slowly softening on his messy stomach.
you did that.
hot.
he looks back at you. whines. moves and cuddles up to you, rolling onto his side and wrapping his massive arms around your waist, pulling you into his sweaty chest. his face buries into the crook of your neck, nose pressing right under your ear, hot breath on your skin. one of his thick thighs slides between yours.
you sigh. reach down and drag the blanket up over both of you, tucking it around your bodies.
“that was really good. it felt really good inside you, i liked it a lot.” he tells you. he has such a beautiful voice.
you stroke his hair with one hand, letting him live and love this out. “yeah? i’m glad.”
he pulls back to look at you with those big, glassy, post nut eyes. he looks beautiful. “did you enjoy it too? i heard you making noises but… i don’t know. i want to know if it was good for you.” oh baby.
“yes. i enjoyed it. a lot. the way i was moaning and the way i came on your cock? that means it felt really fucking good for me.”
he blinks slowly, confused. “nothing came out of you. when i cum stuff comes out. a lot of stuff. nothing came out of you. i thought when girls cum it’s supposed to… shoot out or something. is that not how it works?”
poor boy. his brain is clearly fried from whatever porn and hentai he’s seen. he thinks female orgasm equals visible explosion and that squirting is the only way to know it happened, plus that it happens when the man cums too. no worries, you’ll teach him.
you brush a strand of hair off his sweaty forehead. “no, baby boy. that’s not how it works for most girls. when i cum it feels really intense inside, it feels amazing, but nothing has to shoot out for it to be real. some girls do shoot something sometimes, but a lot of us don’t. i came really hard on you. trust me.”
he nods slowly, still looking a little lost but accepting it because it’s you telling him. “oh… okay. so you really came?”
“yes, sungie, i really came. and it was good, really good.”
he thinks about that for a second. using all his brain cells which is maybe two. “i’m glad. i want you to feel good too. i like when you feel good.”
you tuck his face back into your neck. kiss his head. “i swear on jeongin’s life that this was the best sex i’ve ever had. hands down.”
somewhere across town, jeongin is sitting between chan and minho on chan’s balcony, in sentence about something, when he suddenly clutches his heart.
“ow, fuck, what the fuck was that?” he winces, rubbing the spot.
chan snorts into his beer. “probably karma for all the times you’ve been a whore, man.”
minho chuckles, nods.
whatever. you’re over hyunjin. just an ex, no matter how good the sex was.
“hm, okay.” jisung mumbles.
you stroke his back slowly. he really is the neediest, whiniest, most reactive little bitch you’ve ever fucked.
next morning, you’re tangled in his arms. aw. babe. his face is buried in your neck, warm breath tickling your skin, one leg thrown over yours. you can feel the stickyness between your thighs from last night. safe sex who.
you try to slip out of bed quietly but the second you move, jisung tries to hold you down with him.
“wait.” he mumbles. he pulls you back to his chest(you’re shocked by how easily he does that, seriously, how strong is this whore?), nose nuzzling into your hair. “don’t go yet, it’s still early. stay here with me a little longer.”
you turn in his arms and gently cup his face. he looks… washed out. like if someone put him in a washing machine. looks at you with needy eyes,,is just a little meow meow.
“i have to go for a bit, sungie. i’ll come back later, okay?”
his brows pull together, confused, worried. “why? did i do something wrong last night? i thought— i thought it was really good. i don’t want you to leave.”
you sigh softly and stroke his cheek. “you didn’t do anything wrong, last night was amazing, but we didn’t use protection and i could get pregnant. i don’t want a baby now.”
“what’s wrong with a baby? if it was ours it would be cute i think. i like kids, they’re small. like cats but they talk eventually. i could hold it while you do stuff.”
pfft.
you smile. wide. beautiful. can’t help it. “we’re not ready for a baby, i’m not ready. a baby is a really big deal, it changes everything. i need to take care of it now before anything happens. okay? trust me on this, it’s the responsible thing.”
he thinks about it. “okay… if you say it’s important then i trust you. but you’ll come back after? you promise?”
“i promise.”
he leans in and presses a clumsy kiss to your shoulder, then your neck(let’s consider that he didn’t learn his from anywhere, it’s his dumb nature telling him to do this, to love you right, to touch you), pulls away to say “last night was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. i want to do more stuff with you. can we do something tonight? maybe watch a movie or… or do that again if you want.”
you kiss his forehead, swipe his hair from his eyes. “yeah, sure. we can do something tonight.”
that seems to satisfy him enough. he lets you get dressed(though doesn’t really want to let you go, literally what’s wrong with a baby, y/n???)(dumb fuck), watching you the entire time with big eyes. wow. women.
you walk out into the living room, meet minho already in the kitchen, making coffee. he’s so cute. like wdym he has a little caffeine addiction and he needs his little coffee. dori walking around his legs, little tail on minho’s leg, brushing it.
“morning.” you say, grabbing your hoodie from the couch.
“morning.”
this is a brutally adorable interaction if we think about it. even if we consider that he totally checked your ass out when you walked past.
so. you head out.
barely five minutes later, jisung comes out of his room wearing nothing but boxers and a sweats. they might be on backwards. whatever. the look could be perfect with a few hickeys but you didn’t bless him with any, but his hair is messy, and he’s got this obvious, glowing, freshly fucked look on his face. he looks good. really fucking good.
minho raises an eyebrow as jisung walks into the kitchen. “well damn. look at you.”
jisung comes to the kitchen counter and leans on it, smiling. “we had sex last night.”
minho chokes on his coffee, slams the mug down. it spills. he feels… genuine surprise. he saw jisung all messy and thought you two like finally kissed or something, he didn’t expect jisung to get pussy this soon.
“y/n and me.”
“yeah no shit bro.”
jisung crosses his arms over his broad chest(you’d jump him for that, damn he looks hot), looking proud. dumb. “we did it. like, a lot. she kissed me first. it was really nice, kissing is nice. boobs are really soft, minho. i squeezed them a lot, try it once. she got on top of me, like all the way on top, held my dick once but i came really fast. but then she put it in her. it felt really good i couldn’t even think.” like he ever does.
minho rubs his face with both hands, happy, or maybe secondhand embarrassed for jisung. like, he’s happy for him, whoo finally got laid whatever, and by someone who actually seems to care about him, but he’s also lowkey worried. jisung is glowing, this obsession is only going to get worse now, it’ll be harder to deal with.
“alright alright, slow down.” minho says, leaning against the counter facing jisung. “first off, good job. first time is always quick. second, where did your cum go?” it feels so weird to squeeze these words out. but whatever they’re best friends. and that’s an important talk, a really important one, and oh the fact that he just knew, felt that jisung came inside.
“in her. but she said she’s gonna take some pill so no baby. i know how that works. i told her a baby might be okay but she said no.”
minho rubs his temple. “okay. shit. listen. you should’ve used a condom. you know, rubber thingy. raw is risky. babies aside, there’s diseases and shit. next time you wear a rubber unless she says otherwise and i’ll take you to get tested. got it?”
he knows you’ll keep jisung safe tho.
“okay. but won’t it feel better without?”
“yeah that’s why people like it. but you still wrap it up until you’re sure. whatever. you think you did good?”
“i think? didn’t last very long though.”
“yeah, that’s normal for your first time. next time try to breathe and relax a little.”
“i couldn’t, i could only go fast. it felt really good.”
“be gentle sometimes. slow feels really good too. girls like it. pay attention to y/n.”
jisung nods, absorbing the information. dumb head finally put to work. “okay. slow is good too. got it. she… had a hand between her legs lots. is that normal?”
minho won’t be able to look at you the same after that. no, this is not a bad thing, he won’t look at you with anything wrong, only… only more lust, unfortunately. “very normal. that’s how most girls make themselves cum. you can do that for her with your hand next time. or your mouth. you’ll learn it.”
jisung’s eyes widen. “my mouth? down there? …would she like that?”
“most girls love that shit, man. just be gentle at first, slow. l…” shit it’s hard to say this. “lick.” there we go. “she’ll let you know when you’re doing it right. well, y/n sure will.” and he doesn’t think jisung will fuck anyone else anytime soon.
minho feels weird though. lots of things in his body.
relief, because jisung is glowing. he looks happy, finally. the last time minho has seen him this happy when they got the last cat. plus the other side has been quiet for weeks now and last night clearly pushed it even further down.
jealousy, tiny bit. you’re so good for jisung, you keep him stable and now you’re fucking him stupid too. but minho finds you attractive too. he wouldn’t mind if he got the same treatment, maybe.
fondness, like minho knows he’s the only person that jisung would tell all this to. this unfiltered, this shameless, this… friend. close. he’s glad that he’s this asshole’s best friend.
worry, now that jisung has had you, he’s going to want you even more. constantly.
“you like her then?” minho asks, though he already knows the answer.
“yeah, i like her more than anything. i want her to stay here all the time. i want to keep having sex with her. i want to make her feel good too. i love her.”
fucking brutal.
minho sighs. but he’s happy for jisung, genuinely. he’s more sure than ever that he needs to keep you here, no matter what it takes. the version of jisung standing in the kitchen right now, blessed by the feeling of pussy, is the version he wants to keep, even if it means doing bad for both of you.
you’re standing in line at the pharmacy.
and isn’t it just fucking fabulous that jeongin stops next to you, having a box of condoms (extra thin, ribbed for her pleasure) in his hand only? like genuinely only came into the pharmacy just for that.
“no fucking way! if it isn’t minho’s girl! what are you doing here, y/n?”
you give him a tired smile and drop the box of morning after pills onto the counter.
the cashier sighs, jeongin’s face drops.
his eyes go wide as he stares at the box, then back at you, then at the box again. his mouth opens in a perfect little o before he smiles that beautiful grin again. “oh shit, you and minho been getting busy lately, huh?” he says, way too loud, elbowing you.
“yeah.”
the cashier rings you up while jeongin leans on the counter, clearly dying to know more. “so like… what’d he do? did he… y’know, eat you out first?”
“…yes.”
“for reeeeal? did he make you cum from that? wait did you sit on his face or did he just go down?”
“second.”
“nice, nice. does he go hard or is he all slow and romantic? does he talk dirty? choke you a little? slap your ass? please tell me he at least smacked your ass once.” how is he so comfortable talking about this to a girl?
you’re dying laughing inside, your stomach fucking hurts from keeping it in. “all of the above.”
jeongin actually spins once in place. pervert. “does he finger you first? like how many? two? three? is he good?”
you hold up three fingers. your chest hurts from the adrenaline of the kept in laughter.
“fuuck.” he whispers, biting his lip. “does he make you squirt?”
“sometimes.”
let’s note that he’s fucking bricked up now, poorly trying to hide it by holding his hand lower. he thinks he’s slick. he is not slick.
the pharmacist is pretending very hard to not exist.
“jesus that’s hot. so did he cum inside you? is that why you’re getting the pill? shit, rawdogging it? my respect for the guy.”
“yeah.”
“did he finish on your tits or in your mouth or—“
you grab your bag, smile at the pharmacist, and start heading for the door. “bye.”
“wait wait wait—” he fumbles with his lil box of condoms, practically throwing cash at the poor cashier before sprinting after you.
he catches up outside, slightly out of breath, cheeks pink. he’s still hard and trying (failing) to hide it.
“so uh…” he rubs the back of his neck, suddenly looking a little shy. oh? “so, uh, you wanna meet up sometime? maybe? just us? i don’t know, we could hang.”
he still thinks you’re dating minho.
for a bit you actually think about it. jeongin is hot, a boy. would probably be fun for a quick, nasty hookup. but then you remember jisung. how he looked at you, how you were the one that took his virginity, how you can feel he’s in love with you.
jeongin could never compete.
“can’t. i’m good.”
he throws his hands around next to himself. what a childish, immature asshole. “awww c’monnn. not even one little sneaky link? i give great head, i swear. minho doesn’t even have to find out—”
“i’m good.”
he looks genuinely surprised, he wasn’t expecting rejection. what a fucking clown. “then tell him i said he’s lucky.” this is still trying to flirt, by the way.
“tell him yourself.”
you made the right choice.
later when you come home minho makes you food. you sit down and eat it, of course. you don’t realize he made it specifically so you wouldn’t take the pill on an empty stomach.
and oh as soon as jisung hears your voice he comes out again. what an angel(when has he killed last time?) walks to you, wraps his arms around your shoulders from behind and buries his face in your neck. sniffing you in. dream boyfriend(killer).
“i missed you. can we go back to bed now?”
you pat his arm. “i just got home, baby. give me a minute.”
he likes it when you call him baby.
but that minute of him clinging turns into hours, then days, then a new life for you.
jisung can’t get off your dick. not even a little bit.
the obsession that was already bad before sex, it, of course, escalated after you took his virginity. you are now the center of his entire empty little universe. fucking brutal to even think about that.
every single morning starts the same. you try to get up for work and he turns into a whiny bitch, actual tantrums. stomps around the apartment.
“you don’t have to go.” he says one morning, blocking the door. “your work is stupid. they can survive without you. i can’t. what if something bad happens while you’re gone?”
fucking exhausting.
he’s on you the second you walk through the door after work. drops whatever he’s doing (usually petting a cat or staring at the wall thinking about your pussy) and immediately is on you.
jisung is genuinely sick in the head.
and you’re his fixation. his cure. his everything.
and then there’s minho.
minho is a different type of fucked up, but he still is. these bitches are made for each other.
he’s starting to like having you around for himself too.
both of them are genuinely fucked in the head, just in different types of. both of their worlds revolve around you now.
but it feels good to be this needed.
it’s all fine. they need you. and you need to be needed. that’s so fine. you don’t know jisung is a murderer, that minho is a maniac, it genuinely is fine!!
yeah that’s what minho is. a fucking maniac.
he’s brutal. knows how to handle any situation, and will.
as i said, he’s not even doing it purely for jisung anymore. that he likes you too. that he likes this, this thing the three of you has.
and he will do anything to protect it.
he makes you breakfast everytime you stay over not because he’s nice, but because he wants you associating this apartment with warmth and care and “someone finally looking out for me.” manipulative cunt.
he’s happy his best friend is getting laid. really happy. the more jisung needs you, the more power minho has to keep you here.
he knows he’s not a good person. he knows he’s slowly trapping you for jisung’s sake (and for his own), he just doesn’t give a fuck.
he’s happy about it, he sleeps better now knowing you’re two doors down. he smiles more when he tells a joke and not only jisung laughs at it but you too. minho is happy.
jisung’s love is simpler. i know, i know, he really changed since you let him have sex with you, but that’s not because he’s in love with your body only or anything. he fell for you the very day you walked him home. sex just made the obsession worse, but the root of it was always you.
still… now that he’s had a taste, he literally cannot get enough.
your sex life now is actually unreal. he wants it constantly. always needy. every single night he’s on you. the second the door closes and minho gives you two space, jisung is already reaching for you with those clumsy hands, hopeful.
“y/n, can we do it again tonight?”
and you give it to him. because how the fuck are you supposed to say no to that face?
some nights he’s desperate and fast, he’ll pull you into his room, practically rip your clothes off, and beg you to ride him. other nights he tops gently. you taught him gentle.
still cums embarrassingly quick sometimes, but he’s gotten a little better at holding it.
he looooves eating you out!! (minho gave him very detailed instructions) now he’ll randomly drop to his knees while you’re trying to do your own little business and bury his face between your legs. or when you’re lying in his bed and he crawls between your legs. or when you’re sitting on their couch and minho’s not home. or when minho is home but he’s asleep and you’re sitting at the table and jisung just reeeeaally wants to crawl under the table for a little taste of you!!
the word taste is important here. because he really just loves the way you taste, that’s why he wants it so bad. plus he loves to make you feel good. but dear god does he love the taste more.
he’s not skilled yet but the energy is there. that counts.
he loves when you sit on his face. minho gave him that tip. he’ll lie there for ages with his tongue buried in your pussy, moaning and whimpering into you, moving his face side to side, even. he gets so into it his hips hump the air, helpless is what he is, leaking all over his own stomach. he’s perfect.
then some nights he’s softer. he wants to be close. he’ll pull you on top of him and hold you there while you slowly ride him, face buried between your tits, or neck, or anywhere that’s touching you really,,moaning and whining and whimpering and squeaking into your skin. he loves skin to skin, loves when you lean down so your chests press together.
he also discovered he really likes when you finger his throat. he’ll grab your hand himself sometimes and guide your fingers into his mouth, sucking and whimpering and letting you repeatedly push down on his tongue, while you bounce on his cock or he’s fucking you. the boy has a throat kink and has no clue about it.
one night after you spit in his mouth during sex (he begged so pathetically you gave in), he becomes like so obsessed with it. every single time now he opens his mouth like a babybird while you’re riding him.
he also really wants to bite your neck. not little love bites, proper teeth marks. he asks for that too, nosing at your throat, and how could you say no?
he loves when you choke him. not even in a yes mommy way he just really likes when you put your hand on his throat. he usually gasps out something when you do it, trying to talk because he craves your comforting words and then blows his load.
he loves when you pin him down. loves being on his back while you control everything. he’ll hold his arms above his head if you tell him to and stay there like a good boy even when he’s shaking and desperate to touch you.
he also has this weird thing where he likes when you’re mean to him during sex. not too mean, just a little degradation. if you call him a desperate little whore or tell him he’s only good for fucking he’ll moan so loud minho laughs in the next room. he doesn’t understand why it turns him on so much, he just knows when you say it it feels so good and yes he’s literally just a little whore as long as you say he is. he also loves being told what to do.
he wants to be inside you all the time. morning sex, shower sex, middle of the night “i had a bad dream, can i put it in for a little?” sex.
he doesn’t understand boundaries yet. or rather, he understands them as “things y/n says no to”
one night you’re on your period, cramping pretty bad, and you tell him no sex.
he tilts his head, genuinely and visibly confused. “but it’s just blood? i don’t mind blood. i can still put it in, right? why does blood stop us? i really want to be inside you right now.”
“because it hurts. and i’m… not in the mood right now, i guess. i’m uncomfy, jis.” you say, putting your hand in his hair.
he pushes his head into your palm. “i can just put my fingers in? or my mouth? i can be really gentle.”
you end up letting him fuck you actually anyway because he’s so fucking cute and honestly the period horniness is really fucking getting you going.
and he’s weirdly into the blood, stares down between your bodies with wide eyes the whole time, mesmerized by the red on his cock(well, on the condom, he wears those since minho basically forced a whole box on him and gave him a very awkward but necessary sex ed talk after the after pill incident) when he pulls out.
“it looks pretty on me.” he mumbles once. “like we’re mixing together.”
fucking weirdo.
he means well tho. we know that.
another time your back is killing you after a long day at work. you tell him you’re too sore for sex.
“why does your back hurt stop us?” he asks, already crawling between your legs. “did i do something wrong? can i make it not hurt? i can do all the work. you can just lay there. i’ll be careful.”
“baby, not now.”
“but please, can i at least put just the tip in?”
he’s not… aggressive about it, just really doesn’t understand, doesn’t have the empathy for this, to try to process how a woman works. but stops begging after you tell him no enough times. so him not really accepting no is not a red flag exactly(we can’t say this about him being a murderer tho), he just doesn’t use his brain enough.
plus most of his knowledge, if not from you, comes from porn.
like take the first time he accidentally brushed a finger against your asshole while fingering you.
“y/n, can i put a finger in there too? just one? it looks really tight. i saw it in a video once. they seemed to like it. can i try?” saw it in a video once, is the key here, what we’re talking about.
he’s so fucking curious and eager and excited about everything. every new thing he learns makes him happier. he wants to try it all, right now, with you.
“can we do it in the kitchen next time? while you’re trying to cook? i saw that once. or in the shower? or can i fuck you while you’re on the phone with someone? i’ll be quiet. mostly.”
and you fucking let him do all.
but as we said, his love never feels purely physical. he loves you more than anything and it shows.
but naturally, that love can get exhausting. sooner or later. sooner. you feel it.
it’s been weeks of this, the apartment slowly feeling less like a place you visit and more like a… cage you live in. you love the attention in small doses, but you’re starting to need air. you need space. you need to feel like an own person again instead of the emotional support pocketpussy for these two. (fun fact, minho has a pocketpussy, uses it lots too. jisung doesn’t know about it)
so one night, after jisung has spent twenty straight minutes whining because you said you wanted to go home for one fucking night, you sit them both down on the couch.
“we need to talk.” you say.
jisung watches you with big eyes. minho leans back, arms crossed.
you lay it out as gently as you can. “i need some space, boys. not forever, just… a couple days where i’m not here every single night. i love being with you both but i’m losing myself a little. i need to breathe, go to my own apartment, see my friends, sleep in my own bed. i need time for myself too.”
silence.
jisung is looking at you with big confused eyes. “space? why do you need space? i don’t ask for that much, i just want you here. you know i get bad when you’re gone. last time you left for the whole day i couldn’t even eat properly. minho had to make me food.”
no. this is not right.
that’s what his pretty head tells him now.
what’s up with y/n?
minho looks at jisung, then back at you. “you feeling overwhelmed?”
“yeah, i do. i like you both, i really do, but this is moving way too fast. i feel like i barely have a life outside this apartment anymore. jisung throws a fit everytime i try to leave for work, it’s exhausting.”
jisung makes this pathetic little scoffing sound. “i don’t throw fits, i just tell you the truth. you leaving makes me feel bad, that’s not my fault. it’s yours.”
he’s been getting bitchy lately, and it’s only gotten worse since you started fucking. he has learned how to be a whiny little shit when he doesn’t get his way.
you sigh. “baby, you literally stomped around the apartment yesterday because i had a dinner thing with friends. you kept saying ‘but what about me’ over and over.”
“because what about me?” his pretty voice rises. “you always go do stuff with other people but i’m right here. i’m the one who needs you. they don’t. i do. minho, tell her she doesn’t need space, tell her it’s fine. we’re happy like this.”
minho looks between you two, then back at you. “i don’t want you feeling like that.” he says quietly. him being quiet is a big part of the manipulation, by the way. “i just… really liked you having here. you’re right, we might have gotten carried away with having you every—“
“i thought you liked being with me. you said you liked me.” jisung cuts in.
“i do like you.” you say, starting to feel guilty, you’re trying not to. “this isn’t about not liking you, it’s about me needing me time sometimes.“
minho puts a hand on jisung’s shoulder. “easy. she’s allowed to say this stuff. we’re talking like adults.” but even minho’s voice has this sweet, almost pleading undertone. “it’s been good having you around, we did get carried away. we didn’t see what you needed.”
“we like you here. that’s what people who care about each other do, right minho?” jisung asks.
minho nods slowly, eyes on you.
you feel cornered. they’re doing something. talking to each other. acting like they’re being so understanding.
“you guys are getting a little ridiculous.” you mumble.
jisung’s face actually takes panic up. “what guys? you know other guys?”
you stare at him. “…you.”
he stares at you. looks genuinely confused.
“you’re clingy. both of you, honestly.”
“i’m not clingy.” minho says. deeply full of shit.
you give him a look.
“i just like you around.” he fucking knows how to talk. what to say. how to say it.
“whatever. i’m going home tonight.” you say. “i’ll come back tomorrow or something, so we can talk it out, okay?”
silence.
jisung stands up, he’s… scary. “what? no. you can’t. you just got here. you said we could do something tonight. why are you doing this? i’ve been waiting all day.”
you turn away, grab your things. “baby, i’m not negotiating. i’m telling you, i’m going home.”
“you sure about tonight? it’s late. we can all just sleep it off and talk more tomorrow.” minho says.
you shake your head. “no. i’m going. i need this.”
“what the fuck y/n?!” jisung cries out. he looks genuinely shocked. sick bitch.
your heart jumps. he scared you, is scaring you.
“jisung, she’s allowed to go home.” minho says, calm, trying to look better than jisung does right now.
“no she’s not!” jisung stomps, eyes big and wet and pissed. “why are you being so mean? i didn’t even do anything wrong today, i was good! i was good! and now you’re punishing me by leaving?”
you sigh. “ji, this isn’t a punishment. i’m tired. i want my own space for one night. even your cats think i live here now.”
you and dori make eye contact. if he could he’d say hi now. hi to you too, dude.
“your own space?” jisung sounds disgusted. “what’s wrong with our space? why the fuck do you suddenly need your stupid apartment so bad?!”
minho stands up, sighs, puts a hand on jisung’s shoulder. “let her go.” even though he wonders, what if this is the beast side of jisung talking now? what if he switched already, just didn’t kill?
these aren’t true, though. this is the normal jisung. just… freaking out.
jisung shrugs minho’s hand off angrily, glaring at you. “you always take her side. fine. go then. go sleep in your stupid empty bed and leave me here feeling bad. see if i care.”
you grab everything, heart pounding. “i’ll text you when i get home, okay?”
jisung doesn’t answer, just crosses his arms and looks away.
minho walks you to the door. “text me too. and take all the time you need tonight. we’ll be fine, he’ll calm down. sorry.”
you nod, exhausted, mumble an okay, and finally leave.
minho sighs. goes back to jisung.
“fucking bullshit!” jisung shouts, stomping around. “she always does this! she just leaves! i hate it! i fucking hate it minho!” he kicks the couch cushion off, then picks it up again and puts it back because he likes it there. “why does she need space so bad? i give her everything, i hold her every night, i tell her i love her, i even eat vegetables when she asks! and she still wants to leave? what the fuck is wrong with her?”
“she’s fine, girls do this. she’ll come back.”
“but what if she doesn’t? what if she decides she’s done with me? i’ll die minho. i’ll actually die. my chest already hurts.” he stomps down the hallway, now mostly talking to himself. just muttering “she’s so mean sometimes. she knows i love her and she still leaves. it’s fucked up. i should be enough for her, why aren’t i enough?”
the bathroom door slams. you can hear the shower turn on.
minho lets out a long breath and runs a hand through his hair.
at least jisung didn’t go out.
that’s great.
he just got angry.
minho can work with that. he can fix that.
he walks into the kitchen, pours himself a drink(he doesn’t usually drink, this one was calling his name, though), and sits down on the couch with a sigh.
god, he loves you.
so he’ll figure this out.
he always does.
he’ll give you tonight, maybe even tomorrow. then he’ll start working on pulling you back in.
you’ll come back.
you always do.
and if you don’t, minho will just have to try harder.
he’s very good at trying harder.
and you do text him when you get home, text jisung too. minho sends a like(average like sender), jisung leaves you on seen.
and you are not an evil little bitch, so you go back to them next night like you said you would, even though you kinda wanted to stay away longer just to prove a point.
the three of you sit in the living room. couch. jisung is pressing up to your side, holding onto you. minho sits across from you. okayyyy therapy session.
“i’m sorry.” he says. “we both are. i didn’t realize how suffocating this has been for you, that’s on me. i should’ve noticed sooner. you’ve been so such good company and we took advantage of that, i’m really sorry.”
jisung is staring at the floor though. he’s not sorry. “i don’t like this. i just missed you, i didn’t do anything wrong. i don’t get why i’m too much.”
let’s compare you two’s first meet when he communicated in okays and smiles, and now he speaks like this. you have been an influence to him. minho’s manipulation has been an influence to him. you two are building this spoiled little whore up.
“jisung, i told you a hundred times already, everyone needs their own company sometimes.”
but jisung doesn’t get that. he can’t get that, since he always needs yours. he never needs anything that is not you. and the problem must be with you, then.
he huffs and looks away. he’s gotten so used to you giving in every single time that any pushback feels like you’re fucking breaking up with him. he just doesn’t understand why relationships are so hard, he didn’t expect this.
“i’m gonna run out for a bit.” minho tells you two, standing up, grabbing his keys. “give you two some time to talk properly. i’ll be back later.”
you narrow your eyes at him.
he leaves before you can call him on it.
the door clicks shut. you and jisung now.
you sigh. stand up. go to the kitchen.
jisung follows you. whines randomly???
“the bed was too empty, i kept waking up looking for you. it made my chest hurt. why do you even need to sleep somewhere else? we have a bed here, it’s big enough.”
you turn around and lean on the opposite counter. “because it’s my place, baby. because sometimes i want to be alone. because i bought that place and like that place and have lots of memories at that place. because i can’t live here.”
“but you kinda already live here. your stuff is here, the cats like you, i like you, minho likes you. why do you do this?”
“because it’s me in your world, not you two in my world.” you barely think he understands that. anyways. “i barely see my friends anymore, i canceled plans three times this month because you threw a fit. everytime i try to have one normal day you act like i’m abandoning you, it’s too much.”
his pretty face twists. pathetic. “i’m too much for you now? now i’m just too much?”
“that’s not what i said—”
“it’s what you mean!” actually raising his voice. stomping. “you liked it when i needed you, you liked when got you flowers. you liked it when i told you how much i missed you, now it’s a problem? make it make sense y/n.”
“you’re being a real bitch right now, you know that?”
he looks surprised. the thought never crossed his empty little head. “i’m not being a bitch, you’re the one who’s changing the rules.”
“oh i’m being the bitch?”
“you’re being the bitch!”
“watch your fucking mouth—“
“no! i waited for you all day yesterday, i didn’t even go out, i stayed here like you wanted and then you still left.”
“i didn’t want you to do that, you thought that yourself.”
“because i love you! i love you so much it makes me feel sick when you’re gone, and you know that! you know and you still left anyway.”
you’re both breathing hard, staring at each other across the small kitchen.
you step forward, grab his face with both hands and kiss him. hard. he makes this surprised little grunt into your mouth before melting into it, kissing you back desperately, hands grabbing your waist, fumbling, squeezing, needing. you push him back until his ass hits the counter, pressing your body against his, eating his face, basically.
then you pull away, and push at his chest. “stop. leave me alone for a bit. i need space.”
he doesn’t let go. “no. don’t, please. i’m sorry i got loud, i’m sorry for the bad words.”
“i told you to leave me alone.”
“but i don’t want to.”
you try to push him away. doesn’t work. “hey. i’m serious.”
“so am i. please. i’m sorry i was mean, i’ll stop, just stay here, please baby please—”
the three cats calmly walk into minho’s room, clearly over the energy in the kitchen.
“you can’t keep doing this shit.” you raise your voice, pushing at his chest again. “every single time i ask for one night, one fucking night, you act like i’m stabbing you in the chest. grow up, jisung.”
his eyes go big. “fuck you. seriously. fuck you.”
you stare at him, stunned.
you never thought he’d ever get like this.
by the way, minho, calmly in some shop, is thinking you two are fucking it out or something. he wouldn’t even guess that this is what’s happening.
“fine!” he yells, pushing himself away from you. “if i’m so annoying then i’ll leave! you want space so bad? here’s your space!”
he turns, slaps around with his hands, leaves the kitchen. you hear the front door slam. then silence.
you stand there for a long moment, heart pounding.
fucking hell.
you feed the cats eventually. you put food in their bowls and sit on the floor, listening to them eat, trying to calm yourself.
now you can’t quite decide if jisung is just dumb, or… there’s something more in there.
something only minho could know of, maybe?
what you don’t know, is that the weird little feeling you just got about jisung, is so true that his personalities switched back in the kitchen. that he really is so in love with you that he wouldn’t hurt you, hence why the “monster” didn’t turn on you.
but now he’s on the dark street. which is, a public space.
and what does he see? oh, a woman in her thirties, walking alone, on her phone.
you already know. jisung grabs her by the throat and slams her into an alley wall so hard her skull cracks against the brick. her phone clatters to the ground. she barely has time to push a sound out before his other hand punches into her stomach, knuckles going deep, dear god that looks like it hurt, feeling things tear inside her.
she folds, gagging. jisung grabs her by the hair and slams her head back into the wall again. and again. and again. each impact makes a horrible sound and slowly blood comes from it, more and more.
he doesn’t care.
he doesn’t care about anything but you.
she tries to claw at his arms. he grabs her by the clothes, yanks her away, then back into the wall. her shirt tears with that, one poor tit spilling out. jisung doesn’t even glance at it. in his normal head he would’ve yelped and covered his eyes because “that’s not y/n’s boob!!” right now, it’s just meat. meaningless. jisung’s other side doesn’t take humans as feeling creatures with their own thoughts dreams and hopes, he sees them as meat. he punches her in the ribs so hard something gives a loud sound inside her.
drops the poor woman to the ground and starts stomping. her chest, her stomach, her face. it was a pretty face. whatever.
the whole thing takes maybe four minutes.
when it’s done he’s standing above her, panting, face and hands dripping red.
remember the guy he killed? when he sat back and the personalities switched again?
they don’t, now.
not even when he comes home.
you’re on the couch, look up when jisung comes in.
your stomach drops straight through the floor. like it actually feels like you have to fall forward, throw up, disappear.
he’s fucking swimming in blood.
it’s everywhere. soaked into his hoodie, the fabric looks black, dripping from his sleeves, smeared across his face, in his hair, on his neck. he’s leaving wet prints on the floor.
he stands there in the doorway breathing hard.
but his little system, his little brain, gets you as someone safe. as someone he can show this side to, like he shows it to minho’s poor ass.
you stand up from the couch. “jisung what the fuck—”
“i hate this!” he shouts. his voice cracks. he has such a pretty voice. he grabs at his own bloody hoodie and rips it over his head, throwing it violently across the room. it lands with a wet little sound. “i hate feeling like this! i tried to leave you alone like you told me to i wanted you to feel better but it made everything worse and then i— i just—” he starts clawing at his own arms, nails digging into his skin, scraping it down. “minho said not to tell you but i want to! i want to tell you who i am! i don’t get why he doesn’t let me!”
take a wild fucking guess, jis.
“i hurt a woman, y/n…” he mumbles. he actually looks adorable. wiping at his little eyes with his hand, how it’s red around his eyes too. “i hurt people sometimes.”
…
come again?
“i don’t know why i do it, it just happens. i always wanted to tell you.” he’s genuinely so beautiful. “i’m normal and then something makes me mad and then i’m hurting people. i kill them. it’s not even that big of a deal i think but minho says it is and he told me not to tell you because you might leave me and now i told you anyway because i can’t lie to you anymore. i’m sorry. i’m so sorry y/n.”
you feel sick.
this is not the lovely sweet dumb jisung you know. it’s creeping you out. your hands are shaking. you feel so weak. you have to take a step back.
his pretty mouth falls as he sees that. he doesn’t want you feeling like that, he doesn’t want a girl feeling like that. in that want he drops to his knees at your feet.
“no no no no no don’t pleaseee, i love you so much. more than anything. more than anything. when you go away i feel like something is… bad.” he’s doing his best, using his vocabulary, words he didn’t use before you. “it hurts so bad. i get so sad. i get angry too. i don’t want to be angry but i can’t stop it.” he’s crying now. he reaches for your leg, pulls his hand back to wipe at his eye instead. still reached for you. “minho says i’m re—really dumb. but i’m not dumb about you. i know you’re the only thing that makes me always good, i know when you touch me everything gets good, i know i’d rather die than not have you. i’d kill myself if you told me to. that’s how much i love you.” he doesn’t know how to say it right.
and even now what you’re thinking about is that minho told him he’s dumb? how could he?
“i’m sorry i’m like this, i’m, i’m sooorry i killed someone tonight. i’m sorry. i’m sorry, so sorry. i’ll try to be better. i’ll try to understand.”
you’re speechless. like completely fucking speechless.
this is your boyfriend. the same guy who whines when you leave for work, who begs for kisses, who gives you all the love he has, which is a lot, just admitted to murdering someone tonight.
you’re terrified.
you’re also… unbearably touched. like, he’s so honest. he felt like he could tell you this. that feels good.
to him killing is just something that happens sometimes. like, i dunno, stubbing your toe. like rain. it comes. okay. and you get that, that he’s trying to explain himself out of something like that.
“i’ll try to be better, i promise, just don’t leave me alone.” he’s rocking slightly, looking up at you with those huge watery eyes. he makes your heart melt. and also jump straight out your chest.
you’re scared of the man you’ve been sleeping next to for weeks.
but you’re also, just again, touched. no one has ever needed you this much, no one has ever laid themselves this bare in front of you. terrifying, wrong. he let you see something that his lifelong best friend, who he follows and looks up to always, told him not to. he’s also going against minho because he loves you too much.
you have no fucking idea what to say. you take a step back. then another. your lip is starting to shake. you’re just… incredibly scared.
you can smell the blood.
“no— y/n wait—” he starts crawling after you, leaves red behind himself, his hands grab at your pants, fisting the fabric so tight so you can’t back up anymore. “please don’t walk away.” tears are going over the blood on his face. “i’m sorry i’m like this, i’m sorry i killed her. i’m sorry. living with minho before you was so… nothing.” again, struggling to use words he’s not familiar with, like the perfect wording here would be that before you it was so empty, but he doesn’t have the time to think about that now, of course. “i would wake up and eat and sometimes kill and come home and pet the cats and go to sleep. you made everything good. i’ll try so hard to be better. i’ll stop killing if you want.” he doesn’t know why would you be this scared, he doesn’t have the empathy for that, but he can see you’re scared and wants you not to be. “i’ll do anything. i can’t breathe when you look at me like that.” that’s true. he’s really panicking.
this is the man you let fuck you. this is the man you let sleep next to you. this is the man you really really like, love, no matter how he acts.
“minho takes care of me but it’s different. he cleans the blood and tells me what to do but he doesn’t make me feel warm inside. only you do that. i don’t know how to be without you. please.”
please, please, please. always please.
his thoughts say the same.
please please please.
he’s terrified too.
you close your eyes. let your face shake a bit. then open them again, reach down, cup his bloody face with both hands.
“hey.” you mumble, crouching down.
kissing him.
it’s a soft kiss. comforting.
he freezes, then melts into you with a sob, kissing you back desperately, bloody hands coming up to hold your wrists. he’s adorable. really purely loving you.
you still love me.
when you pull back his eyes are big and shiny and shocked and full. “y/n…”
you… don’t know what you’re looking at. sure, it’s the same pretty face, but a completely new jisung in there. (no, not at all. the same jisung kills and the same jisung sits at home and pets the cats. only you think it’s a different person. he’s not.)
the second you take your hands off his bloody face(ew, ew, ew) he starts hitting the side of his head with his fist, hard. “stupid stupid stupid.” he mutters, smacking himself again. “you’re so fucking stupid jisung. you scared her. you always ruin everything. stupid—”
you grab his wrist and pull his hand away. “hey, stop. don’t do that.”
he looks up at you, eyes red, swollen, teary, adorable, lips trembling. you have genuinely never seen this man look more beautiful, no matter how terrified you are of him.
you push at his chest. he lets you. he falls back onto the floor on his back, onto the smeared blood he left there. just lies there the pillow princess, staring up at you with those big wet eyes.
you get on top of him.
hours later the front door opens slowly. minho steps inside, fucks around with his keys a bit, turns to lock the door. locks it. turns towards the living room.
his heart fucking stops.
blood.
everywhere.
dried drops. long smeared streaks. a bloody handprint on the wall near the hallway. a big dark puddle near the couch that’s already brown. it smells horrible in here.
he has… never been more scared.
he’s convinced jisung killed you. he killed you. the love of his life. the love of minho’s life. your body might be somewhere in the apartment, torn apart. he almost pukes.
so you’re dead somewhere in this apartment because minho was selfish. he should’ve never left, he should’ve stayed and handled it. now look where that ended. jisung’s going to absolutely fall together. you’re dead. dead because of him.
“no… no no no—”
he drops his keys and basically runs, shoes slipping on the dried blood as he sprints down the hallway toward jisung’s room.
he slams the door open so hard it bangs against the wall.
you’re there. alive. he barely dies from the relief.
you look beautiful. sitting on jisung’s bed, back to the headboard, looking completely fucking empty. your eyes are open but you’re staring at nothing, face pale, dried blood on your hands and shirt. there’s blood on the pillow, blood on the sheets. jisung is cuddled up to your side. he’s still in his bloody clothes. he’s asleep.
you’re petting jisung’s hair.
you turn your head when minho comes in.
“get out.” you tell him. so flat. quiet. something he has never heard from you before.
minho stands there.
you’re alive. you’re okay. jisung didn’t kill you.
but the blood is still everywhere.
his lips shake. he nods and backs out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.
“fuck… fuck fuck fuck.” he whispers outside. panic looks good on this man. really good. but you still wouldn’t fuck him. well, more than for one reason(jisung) now.
he stands there trying to pull himself together. then forces himself to move, it really is forced by his poor little brain. those slutty thick man legs can barely come off the floor.
he grabs towels, the mop, the strongest cleaner they have that he bought for this side of jisung specifically. he wipes up every drop, every streak, every handprint. the disgusting blood smell stays on his hands as he works. he’s going crazy.
so jisung had switched. that much is obvious. and instead of killing you, he came home and… confessed? cried all over you? whatever, he’ll find out, what he knows is rhat you’re still in there. still touching him in a loving manner. that must mean something that’s good for minho now.
good for minho. he only thinks about himself again.
the streaks on the floor take forever, the big puddle has soaked into the wood. he’s on his hands and knees scrubbing. he deserves to be on his hands and knees. but he also looks good on them.
fuck cares.
he’s relieved. so fucking relieved you’re alive he could cry.
but he’s also scared, because this means that jisung’s other side is still absolutely there. he underestimated the situation.
halfway through he stops. he’s tired, and needs to think. he sits down on the floor, and puts his head between his knees. big, slow breaths. in through the nose, out through the mouth. his eyes are burning.
he almost lost you tonight.
and he loves you.
and this changes things. you know now. you know jisung is a murderer. well, minho supposes you know. you weren’t hurt so his best guess is that jisung came home after a kill, you freaked out, he confessed or something.
but after whatever happened, inside jisung’s room, you’re letting him sleep on you. means you didn’t immediately break up. means something. good girl.
he sits there on the floor for a long time. staring at nothing.
he’ll give you tonight. he’ll let you sit in that room and process whatever the fuck just happened, he’ll even let you sit on his face, for god’s sake. okay that’s… not a big thing and not even related, he just wants you to. anyways. tomorrow he’ll start working on this again, softer this time, gentler. he’ll keep your needs in mind, especially after what just happened to you tonight. whatever happened to you tonight. he’ll make jisung behave.
he finishes cleaning the floor eventually. throws jisung’s hoodie into the trash. covers it up with other things. just like always.
you’re alive. but you’re not okay. he’ll make sure you never look at him the way you just did.
he doesn’t sleep that night, lies in his bed staring at the ceiling for hours. he’s a fucking wreck. when he finally hears the water running in the bathroom early in the morning, his stomach drops. he sits up fast, listening. no screams. no fighting. just water. he curls up under the blanket. he’s actually cute. he’s too scared to see what state you’re both in right now. he can’t look you in the eye. he wants to.
in the bathroom the tub is slowly filling with warm water. you know how warm your beautiful boyfriend likes his water. you’re standing against the sink, arms crossed, still in the same bloody shirt from last night. jisung is right next to you, turned toward you, big dumb eyes watching your face. he’s confused. but he trusts you, with his whole being.
“when did it start?” you ask quietly. “the killing. that you… do this.
he tilts his head, thinking really hard. “um. i don’t know exactly. i was younger. maybe fourteen? fifteen? i got mad at this kid at school once and then i hurt him. i didn’t even mean to do it that bad, it just happened. minho found me after and helped me clean up. he’s always helped me clean up. i didn’t think it was a big deal at first, minho said it was bad though. he told me to stop but i can’t.”
you swallow. “does minho help you hide the bodies?”
“sometimes, i usually just leave them there. but sometimes he goes back to after i tell him how i did it.” so when minho judges it as something that jisung can be traced back from. “he’s really good at it. he tells me what to do after. he cleans a lot. without him i think i would’ve gotten caught already. he’s smart. i’m not smart.”
“and you don’t feel bad about it? about the people you hurt?”
he shrugs. “sometimes. but no. they’re just people. not you. not minho. not the cats. so it doesn’t feel important. minho says that’s wrong but i don’t get why.”
you feel fucking sick. “take your clothes off, jis.”
he gets off his bloody shirt, then his pants and boxers. he steps into the tub slowly, so sweetly, lowering his big body into the warm water with a soft sigh.
you sit down on the mat next to the tub.
he watches you. he looks adorable sitting in the water like that. “minho takes care of me since we were young. he tells me when i did something stupid. he says i can’t kill every time i feel mad. he says he’s the only one who stayed with me even when i was really bad. before you.” minho fed this to him. “he’s really smart about that stuff, i don’t know how he knows all that. he gets really stressed about it. i think he worries a lot. sometimes i hear him walking around at night. i think he’s scared i’ll do it in the apartment one day, but i wouldn’t. not where you sleep. i love you too much.”
you reach down into the water, then up into his hair, wetting it slowly. fuck, blood. fuck, fuck, fuck. but you try to act unfazed so you don’t hurt his big feelings. “i love you too. do you know why it happens? that you want to hurt people.”
jisung shakes his head under your hands. the water is turning pink. suits him. “no. it just happens. one second i’m normal and thinking about you and then something makes me mad or someone bumps me and then i’m not calm anymore. i only do it when i’m mad. and i don’t get mad at you. never. even when we fight i don’t get that kind of mad.”
“thank you. do you know it’s wrong? killing people?”
“minho says it is. he says normal people don’t do that, but it doesn’t feel wrong to me. but i know you don’t like it. that’s why i feel bad now. because you’re scared. i don’t want you to be scared of me.” he reaches out of the water with one wet hand and gently touches your arm. dumb fuck really just wants contact now, your comfort. “i’m sorry i scared you, i just couldn’t keep it inside anymore. minho always said if i told you, you would break up with me, but i don’t want secrets with you.”
“that’s sweet. i appreciate that lots.” you sigh, pull away, pour shampoo into your hands. start washing his hair, fingers massaging his scalp gently.
he leans into your touch with a dumb little sound, eyes closed. “minho likes having you here too. he doesn’t say it but i can tell. he watches you when you’re not looking. he gets happy when you stay. i know that.”
ah, after that party that jisung will never know about if it’s up to you and minho, you’re sure about that.
you rinse his hair, watching pinkish water run down his neck and shoulders. you wash what you can reach, his arms, feeling the healing texture of the scratches on them that he left yesterday, his chest, the back of his neck, kneeling beside the tub sometimes.
he tilts his head back into your hands, a hundred percent trusting.
you stop.
lean down and press a soft kiss to jisung’s wet cheek.
other people’s insides on his skin be damned. you love this man too much.
he makes this tiny relieved sound and tilts his head up, eyes opening. pathetic. “nhh… one on my mouth too? please?”
you kiss him there too. slow. gentle. he sighs into it, one hand coming up to hold your wrist.
“c’mon sungie.” you pull away, standing up. “let’s go. we’re going to my place today.”
“your place?” he says, climbing out of the tub, water sloshing everywhere. dipshit. “really? i like your place.”
“yeah. get dressed.”
he dries up with a towel. puts deodorant on, that’s important, he knows that. throws on clean clothes, still wet hair sticking up in every possible fucking direction. he lets you grab his hand and drag him through the apartment.
you’re halfway through the living room when minho’s door opens.
he looks like absolute shit. eyes red, hair fucked up, face pale. he looks unstable. scared. actually scared for the first time since you’ve known him.
“y/n, what happened? are you— is everything—”
“we’re going out.” you keep dragging jisung toward the door, fingers tight around his big hand. jisung follows hap pily, no resistance there. he’d follow you into a burning building if you told him to.
the fear on minho’s face. panic. “if you’re taking him to the police or—”
“i’m not. we’re just going to my place. i don’t want to see you right now, minho.”
he stops. his mouth opens. watches you pull jisung out the front door and close it behind you.
so. you’re not mad at jisung. he’s fucked up, yeah, deeply, disturbingly, this scared you, but you can’t be angry at someone that simple. that honest. because he doesn’t do anything with a bad intention, absolutely not. he does it exactly because there is no bad intention, because there isn’t any intention. something is wrong with his mind, but he’s not evil or anything like that.
but minho knew. minho knew everything and he still let you live this deep with them, with jisung. he encouraged it. he manipulated you, he lied to you, he used jisung’s let’s say disability to guilt you. he lied to you every single day. he watched you fall for jisung knowing what you were sleeping next to, and said nothing.
that’s why you’re furious at minho, that’s why you couldn’t look at him, that’s why you’re dragging jisung to your apartment instead of staying in theirs. you’re not scared of jisung at all, he told you and you know he wouldn’t hurt you, you just can’t stand the sight of minho’s face.
minho, on the other hand, is zero anger and all panic. the arch opposite of you. (let’s not talk about jisung who sees the world as fucking rainbows and unicorns) he sits on the couch after you leave, he had to sit down, staring at the floor.
he feels completely out of control. is he losing his best friend? is he losing the girl he loves? or does this just need some time? or is it already over?
he starts calling you. once. twice. five times. ten. voicemail everytime. he doesn’t leave messages.
okay, then he’ll call jisung.
he picks up though. “hey minho.”
“jisung. put y/n on the phone. please.”
“mmm… nooo. she doesn’t want to talk right now. sorry man. you should really go do something else. maybe hang out with chan? or take a walk? we’re okay here”
minho’s stomach drops. but he’s also relieved, so you really didn’t take jisung to the police. he trusts that. “jisung, please. just let me talk to her for one minute. i need to know she’s okay.”
“she’s okay. she’s right here next to me. we’re at her place. she’s letting me cuddle her. i think she’s still a little mad at you though, you should give her time. like… a lot of time. okay? bye minho. love you.”
the fucking dickhead then hangs up.
minho might actually murder someone like jisung sometimes does atp.
back at your apartment, you and jisung are on your bed. he’s cuddled up to you, head on your chest, body wrapped around you. you run your fingers through his hair slowly.
“minho used to tell me you would get really angry at me if you found out. he said you’d hate me. that you’d leave and never come back. that’s why i didn’t tell you. i was scared. i didn’t want you to go.” he tells you.
you keep stroking his hair. you love his hair. you understand him. “i’m not angry, just shocked. what you do, it’s horrible. no offense. but i’m not angry at you, you didn’t do it with a… bad purpose, at least as you told me. you’re not choosing to be like this. and you told me the truth, i appreciate that.”
he lifts his head a little, big eyes watching your face.
you look back at him. swipe the hair out of his pretty face. “i’m angry at minho though. really angry. he lied to me every single day, that’s what hurts the most. he treated me bad.”
“minho’s not bad, he takes care of me.”
“i know he takes care of you, but he also used you. and he used me. that’s a bad thing to do, jisung, i need time away from him. i don’t want to see him now.”
he nods slowly, then presses his face back into your chest, squeezing you tighter. it’s sweet, he needs you tighter. “okay. if you don’t want to see him then i don’t want to see him either.“
“thank you. and i still like you the same, hope you know that.” as if he knows anything except he loves you, loves the cats, minho, and what safe sex is. “i’m still processing everything you told me, but i still like you, jisung. i still care about you. this doesn’t make me stop liking you, don’t think that, okay? i’m gonna need time to figure out how i feel about all of it, but i’m not leaving you. don’t worry about that at all. forget it, this is up to me now.”
you’re making such a good impression. communication, honesty, fairness. you are the best.
he makes this relieved little whimper. “thank you. i was so scared you’d hate me. i don’t know what i would do if you hated me.“
you press a kiss to the top of his head and close your eyes.
you two sleep like that for about noon. both of you really need it. the closeness, the rest. doing that is literally the best thing you two could have done.
well until the knocking on your door.
jisung lifts his head from your chest, blinking his dumb eyes awake. “who’s that?”
your stomach drops. “don’t open it.”
yeah you’re talking to the fucking wall jisung is already out of bed. he doesn’t even bother putting a shirt back on, just walks to the door in his sweats, rubbing his pretty eye.
he opens the door.
and who else than minho is standing there looking like absolute hell. the second he sees jisung he tries to push past him.
“hey dude, let me in. just five minutes. i know she’s mad, i just—”
jisung puts one hand on minho’s chest and holds him back like it’s nothing. minho is strong for his size but nothing to jisung when jisung wants something. he doesn’t even look like he’s trying.
“no.” jisung is actually so cute?? “she doesn’t want to see you right now. she told me.”
minho looks desperate. “jis, come on man. it’s me. i’m not gonna hurt her. i just need to explain. i fucked up, okay? i know i fucked up, just let me talk to her, she’ll understand if i can just—”
“she said no.” he pushes minho back a step. “you were really mean to her. you lied. you made her stay when she didn’t want to sometimes. she’s angry at you. i don’t want her to be angry. so you should go.”
“dude… please. you’re my best friend, don’t do this. i’m sorry. i was trying to protect you, i was trying to keep everything okay, i didn’t mean for it to get this bad—”
“i know. i still love you, dude. but you hurt y/n, and she’s my girlfriend. so you should go home. maybe tomorrow she’ll want to talk. but not tonight.”
“ji—”
“no. go home minho. i’ll text you later.” then, he gently pushes minho back again and closes the door in his face. locks the door.
minho… who the fuck cares about minho, inside, jisung turns around and walks back to the bed with you.
he crawls back into your arms.
“it was minho. i told him to go. he looked really sad. but you said you didn’t want to see him so i made him leave, was that okay?”
you’re stunned. “…yeah baby. that was okay. thank you. so much.”
he makes a happy little sound and squeezes you. “good.”
what a fucking mess.
it becomes very clear, very fast, that jisung has made his choice.
between his best friend of years and his girlfriend, he picks you every single time. no hesitation. his empty head doesn’t have room for complicated loyalty tests anyway, minho’s important, but you’re everything.
you’ve decided minho is the bigger psycho. jisung is fucked up, yeah, but at least he’s honest about it. dumb as a bag of rocks, but honest. what minho did is scarier to you, way scarier.
minho tries anyway. he shows up at your workplace two days later. you’re on your break when felix, your colleague(and he was jisung’s friend before your colleague, small world, he doesn’t know minho personally though), spots him first.
“oi, mate, you can’t be back here.” lix tells him, stepping in front of minho before he can’t even get close to you. “this is staff only, yeah? you looking for someone? i can pass a message if you want, man.”
minho tries to look around him. “i just need to talk to y/n for—”
“naaah dude, i don’t think that’s possible. sorry man, but you gotta go. don’t make it weird, yeah?”
minho looks fucked. like someone yanked him around by the hair and added two slaps on his face for good measure. then felix fucking gently herds him toward the exit, saying “take care bro, hope you sort it out” while minho tries to find you with his eyes.
he tries with jisung next. jisung works at a small auto repair shop, mostly doing oil changes and tire stuff. he’s surprisingly good with his hands when it’s cars and not people. minho shows up during jisung’s shift. jisung is halfway under a car when he sees him.
“minho!” jisung says, sliding out of under the car, wiping his hands on a rag. he sounds happy. “what are you doing here?”
“i just wanted to talk.” minho says quietly.
“i can’t really talk to you about y/n, if that’s what you came for. it wouldn’t be right. but i can talk to you about other things.” again, brutal development, in his way of talking, in the way he expresses himself, the potential in jisung is getting brought out better day by day.
“jis, come on. don’t let this—”
“hey, no.” jisung says, standing up. minho knows he won’t win a physical thing. “i love you dude but you hurt her. she’s still mad, i gotta respect that. maybe later. but not now.”
one of jisung’s colleagues, seungmin, walks by carrying a wrench and some paperwork about a client. “minho, you still creeping around? fuck off, han’s working. go cry somewhere else, hm?” he’s grinning like a fucking shithead. “your little boyfriend’s busy, go suck a tailpipe or something.”
changbin, other colleague and buddies with both minho and jisung, walks over more gently. “minho, man… maybe give it some time.” he puts a hand on minho’s shoulder. “han’s made his choice for now. pushing won’t help. go home, yeah? i’ll call you, you can tell me what happened.”
oh minho is getting pissed. but leaves. fuck’s sake.
the same night, jisung tells you “minho came to my work today. but i picked you. i’ll always pick you.”
you stroke his hair. “thank you.”
he’s happy and content now that he’s with you. “i love you more than him.”
you kiss his head.
yeah it’s nice living with just him. well he still goes back to minho’s apartment sometimes, but only for practical shit. he spends a little time with the cats (especially soonie who he carries around like a baby), gives minho an awkward hug, then comes back to you.
“i missed you.” he always says when he comes home. he’ll make a good husband like that. “the cats said hi. minho looked sad but he said to tell you he’s sorry again, can we go to bed now?”
he’s a clingy little selfish asshole. but you don’t mind. if you’re brushing your teeth he’s standing in the doorway watching, if you’re on the couch he’s on top of you, if you go to the bathroom he waits outside the door or just goes in because he does not care about anything that comes out of you, finds periods cool, even, you slap his hands away sometimes though. he’s a lot but it’s nice. in a weird way. you’ve never been loved this hard by anyone.
and he’s still so fucking needy. he’s so desperate to please you. he’ll do anything you ask. he learns fast when you guide him.
one kiss and he’s already hard. you trained the nickname baby boy into the bedroom (you and minho aren’t that different then, no?) so when you now call him baby boy he moans. like in public too. little bitch. oh, also, he loves when you finger his ass. especially when he gets stimulated on his dick too. “y/n… put your finger in again? please? it feels so full and good when you do both…” his moans are to die for.
he cums fast and he cums a lot. and he gets hard again unbelievably quick. he’s always asking for new things, that’s actually always good for a sex life.
“can we do it out in the balcony? i saw it once. can i bite your arm while i’m inside you? not too hard, just enough so it stays. can i eat you out after i cum? i like the taste…”
he’s so pure. helps you learn that him killing is not what all he is, it’s just a little thing compared to this amazing boyfriend.
and you have noooo idea why everytime you show up at jisung’s auto shop with lunch for him, both changbin and seungmin look at you with pretty weird stares…
obviously because jisung tells them everything. he told them about you spitting in his mouth. he told them about riding him while rubbing your clit. he told them about the time you made him cum just from your fingers down his throat. he told them about how good you two’s first time was. he told them about your fingers in his ass. he told them about the positions. the noises. that he feels like a man when you two do it. everything.
changbin is a proper man. to the point he calls you miss, brings you water if you’re waiting for jisung, asks how you’re doing. he’s an angel. but he knows way too much.
seungmin on the other hand quite literally cackles like a fucking asshole whenever you show up. it’s about knowing you so well without you telling him anything, he likes you though. thinks you’re fair. would like… totally shoot his shot with you if by any chance you and jisung broke up.
jisung of course doesn’t realize how much he overshares, he just thinks they’re his friends so they should know how happy he is. you have no clue why they’re being so weird, you just think they’re happy jisung finally has a girlfriend.
you bring him lunch, give him a little kiss on the cheek, tell him to eat properly, and leave while seungmin is imitating a blowjob with two hands behind jisung’s back.
he really is so happy with you. he feels loved. he hasn’t killed since that night. not one single time. your whole being, living with you, you being his only love now absolutely puts you first place in his head. it’s always
y/n :)
seungmin is funny.
oh cat. hello.
y/n :)
yeah something like that.
and you’re slowly accepting him like that. like, already in the process of it and both of you know that. you really are fine.
minho, on the other hand, is going fucking crazy. grown ass man sitting in an empty apartment losing his fucking smart mind. he misses jisung, being followed around, he misses cleaning up after him, he misses being needed, he misses you. he misses the mature conversations because lets be honest the others are all kinda dumb. all of the boys. and you were his only woman friend, the only actually smart one too. he misses that party where you two kissed, he misses that whole night.
he knows it’s his own fucking fault. he knows he’s the reason jisung chose you over him.
he doesn’t feel bad about it.
this lose, no matter how huge it was, didn’t make him less evil. didn’t change him, just his mental health for the moment. he can admit to himself that he did terrible things, and not feel guilt. he feels regret, sure, regret that it backfired. regret that he lost control. regret that you’re not here where he wants you.
he thinks he was right, believes that keeping you here was necessary. that jisung needed you. that he needed you. that the ends justified every lie. he would do it again if he thought it would work, he’s just mad it didn’t.
so. your daily routine, now without minho’s toxic presence, is… nothing extra. it’s sweet. good, living with jisung. he’s great to live with, just the two of you. like, you two always wake up cuddling. that’s sweet.
“hi.” he mumbles into your skin. “can we do it before you leave? just quick. please? i missed you in my sleep.”
yeah he’s… big on morning sex. he’s really sexual, in general, but that’s only good for the “rebuilding” of your relationship. his morning wood agrees.
some mornings you let him. some mornings you don’t. either way he’s happy just being close to you.
when you make your little breakfast he clings to your back, annoying little dumb bitch, arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder, watching everything you do.
“why do you put that much milk? i like it darker. but if you like it like that then it’s good. everything you do is good.”
you go to work. he learned to tolerate being away from you. again, process, in both the relationship and in him only. it’s healthy. he kisses you goodbye, tells you he loves you, lets you go.
your days at work feel lighter too, knowing it’s not pressure you’ll go home to. the hours pass quicker. nowadays you don’t even notice felix staring at your ass, because you’re in your head about your boyfriend too. in the good way.
when you get home jisung picks you up sometimes, well shit why is he so strong, and gives you love like he gives the cats love. he’s an actual angel, he’s so much better. he also loves telling you about everything that happened to him. “seungmin said my oil change was clean today. changbin gave me a soda. they asked about you again. seungmin keeps smiling weird when i talk about you. i don’t know why.” because he knows y/n had her finger in your ass, dumbass.
some evenings you fuck. sex with him is… good, there’s lots of it. he’s addicted, kinda. he’s fucked you in every single room of your apartment. on the kitchen counter (almost knocked over your flowers, your beloved flowers), bent over the couch, in the shower, against the wall by the front door, on the working washing machine, in front of the windows, on the windows, on the floors, anything you can imagine.
he almost knocked you up like four times already because he gets so lost in it he forgets the condom. thank god minho drilled safe sex into his thick skull before everything went to shit.
“minho said i have to wear it every time.” he told you once, very seriously, while rolling it on. “he said if i get you pregnant you might leave me and then i would die. so i’ll wear it. even though it feels better without.”
he just needs to put all that love out in some way. that’s sex, to him.
he’s getting better with jealousy too. he used to lose his mind if any guy even looked at you, now when felix comes over, jisung is mostly okay. well, it’s a huge help that he already knew felix before getting to know you, but he still hovers a little but he lets you two hang out. sometimes you even leave them in the living room to play while you do your own thing. they get along well.
“he can come over again if you want.” jisung told you after lix left one night.
there we go.
he’s sweet, after all.
every few days he goes back to minho’s place for a couple hours. he always tells you first. “i need to get more clothes and check on the cats. i’ll be back before it gets dark okay? i promise.” you let him go. you know he needs it, he needs the cats, and he still needs minho a little, even if he chose you.
now let’s look into his dumb head too. his days are more simple and centered entirely around you. we know he wakes up with you, spends the morning with you, following you from room to room. when you leave for work he does his own thing for a bit before leaving for work. he’s surprisingly reliable when it comes to cars, he likes the work. likes fixing things with his hands. but mostly he thinks about you.
when he goes back to minho’s apartment it’s always a little bittersweet.
“how is y/n?” minho always asks. he still really, really wants you back. some of it is the attachment, some of it is his own ego.
jisung is helpful though. “she’s good. she’s happy i think. we had sex yesterday, it was really nice. she spit in my mouth again.”
minho rubs his face and pulls his hands down. the oh my fucking god bro picture from the first part. he’s in pain but keeps listening. he misses jisung. he misses you. he’s going slowly insane. he still thinks he can fix it if he’s patient enough.
jisung doesn’t stay long, he pets the cats, talks to minho for a bit, then says “i gotta go back to y/n. she’s waiting for me.” and leaves. everytime.
so. you’re getting along with the thought of your boyfriend also having that side. he told you everything he had to told about it, for now you’re just happy it didn’t come out again. you also have an evil, manipulative ex roommate and ex almost situationship(which you don’t really care about, the kiss didn’t change anything to you like you two talked about, you don’t lie around like minho does) and whatever something will happen with that too sooner or later.
sooner.
you’ve been waiting for jisung all evening now. look at that, you’re wearing pretty lingerie under your big hoodie and shorts. black. the pretty see through bra. the little thong that always makes him stupid when he sees it. he really likes it when you’re extra pretty. (sigh, minho would too. and jeongin. and chan. you know what also starts with chan, changbin. also seu—) the second he walks through that door you’re gonna drag him to the bedroom and fuck him senseless. tonight he’s getting absolutely fucking railed. he’s been so good lately. he deserves it. tonight you want to reward him.
but he’s late.
oh, then knocking.
you smile, walking to the door. “forgot your keys at the shop again, you big dummy?”
you open the door.
it’s minho.
he looks like shit. why is he still pretty though? the second he sees you(after about a month now?) his whole body changes, his posture, his energy, his eyes, his want.
you freeze. “what the fuck are you doing here?”
“we need to talk.” he’s calm… too calm.
“no. go away. i told you i don’t want to see you.”
you try to close the door but he puts his hand on it. “y/n.”
“fuck off, minho. i’m serious. leave.”
he doesn’t. instead he puts his palm flat on the middle of your chest, and pushes you back into the apartment. he follows and slams the door behind him, locking it with a soft click.
now you’re panicking. breathing fast, he think that looks good on you.
“i know what i did.” he tells you. this man is inside your home. “i lied to you, i kept shit from you, i used jisung to keep you here. that was wrong, i see that now. but i did it because it worked, because you made him better. i wasn’t trying to hurt you. jis was stable. i did what i thought i had to do, and i miss you.” his eyes flick down to your body, can he sense the lingerie under your clothes?, then back up to your face.
“i don’t care. you’re worse than he is. at least he doesn’t pretend to be normal, get the fuck out of my place.”
“don’t pretend you don’t know why i did it, you saw how he was without you, you saw how empty he is, i was trying to protect him.“
you really fucking hate him right now. “you didn’t tell me anything.”
“if i had, you would’ve left him.”
“you lied to my face every single day.”
“i did what i had to do.”
“you watched me fall for him knowing exactly what he was.”
“and i protected you from the worst of it.”
“you’re a fucking control freak.”
“i built something that worked. i did it for him. i chose his life over your comfort.”
you’re about to scream at him when the front door opens. jisung steps inside, humming under his breath, he looks up. “minho?” he says happily. “what are you doing here—” then his slow brain catches up. he sees the way you’re standing, the tension in the room, the fact that minho is inside when he shouldn’t be. his smile dies. “…hey man. what are you doing here? y/n didn’t say you were coming.”
“i didn’t let him in. he pushed his way inside.” you tell him. you’re obviously seeking him now. you need jisung.
“…he pushed you? but… how is he inside then? the door was closed. did he break it?”
you want to scream. “jis. he forced himself in. he pushed me back and walked inside even though i told him to leave.”
his face slowly changes. he looks at minho, genuinely lost. “why did you do that? she said she doesn’t want to see you. she told me. i told you that too. why are you here if she doesn’t want you?”
minho turns to jisung. “i just needed to talk to her. things have been bad between us and i wanted to fix it. you understand, right? we’ve been through everything together, i’m not trying to hurt anyone.”
jisung shifts on his feet, uncomfortable. he looks at you, then back at minho. you can see the conflict. minho has years of control over him, but you’re the one he’s in love with now. “but… she said no. i have to listen to her. she’s my girlfriend. she said no.”
minho takes a small step closer to jisung. “i know, but this is important. don’t you want things to go back to how they were? all three of us?”
jisung looks torn. his big dumb eyes flick to you again, searching.
you shake your head.
minho looks back at you. “i get it, y/n.” it sounds so good when he says your name. “you’re pissed, you should be, i lied, i manipulated shit, but i did it because—”
“no.” jisung cuts in, stepping half in front of you. “don’t listen to him y/n. he made you stay when you didn’t want to. he’s the reason you got scared of me, he’s bad for you.”
minho pushes on jisung’s shoulder. “i was trying to protect both of you.”
jisung stomps. “you were trying to keep her for yourself too! you lied everyday, you were bad. she doesn’t want you here, minho. she told me.”
you try to speak, try to actually talk it out. “minho, you—”
“i know i fucked up the way i did it, but the result was good, you were happy here, we worked, the three of us, you can’t tell me you didn’t feel it too—”
“she was happy with me!” jisung is louder. “not because of you, because of y/n and me. you’re the reason she left in the first place!”
minho sighs. “i’m not asking you to forgive me right now, i’m asking you to—”
“don’t listen to him y/n he’s just gonna lie again and make you stay when you don’t want to—”
“—understand why i did what i did. jis needs you, i need you here too. not just for him—”
“you don’t need her! you just want to control everything again! she’s mine now, she chose me—”
“guys, stop—”
minho reaches for your hand, hand around your wrist. “just hear me out for one minute. that’s all i’m asking.”
jisung grabs your other hand at the exact same time. “no. don’t touch her. she doesn’t want you touching her.”
they’re both pulling. fucking back at forth.
“y/n, come on. you know me. you know i’m not trying to hurt you—”
jisung yanks harder. “let go of her hand! she’s my girlfriend! she told you to leave! stop trying to take her back!”
“both of you fucking stop—”
“i’m not taking anything, i’m asking you to remember how good it was when we were all together—”
“it was good because of her, not because of you!”
minho pulls. “you’re being selfish right now jis. she deserves to hear both sides—”
jisung yanks back harder. “you’re the selfish one! you lied to her for months! she’s scared of you now!”
fucking circus. these two have never been like this before.
and you kind of… get minho now. you actually understand where he’s coming from. he did all that fucked up shit for what he thought was a good reason, he lied, he manipulated, because he genuinely believed it was the only way to keep his best friend stable and okay. it was wrong, really fucking wrong, but you can see the logic now, the good intention.
“okay, hey. i kind of get it. the reason, at least. not the way you did it, but why you thought you had to. just… talk. say what you need to say.” you tell him.
he’s visibly relieved. he opens his mouth to speak.
but well, jisung is faster. “no. no no no. don’t listen to him y/n. don’t.”
jisung has absolutely changed since he started staying with you. living away from minho has forced him to grow. when he lived with minho, he was dependent, minho made the decisions, minho cleaned up the messes, minho told him what was okay and what wasn’t. jisung never had to think too hard, his empty head just followed. now he has to remember to charge his phone, he has to buy his own food, he has to figure out what to wear when he goes to work, he has to text you when he’s running late instead of just showing up. small things, but for someone like him, it’s huge. he’s becoming more independent.
he’s learning he can exist without minho telling him every move. now he knows what it feels like to stand on his own two feet a little… and he doesn’t want to do it without you next to him. because that development came out with you.
“you can’t listen to him, he’s bad for you. he lied. he made you scared of me. you’re mine. you chose me. don’t let him talk, please y/n, please don’t listen to him.” he says, whiny.
“dude, relax. i’m not trying to take her from you. i’m just—”
“yes you are!” he pulls you closer to him, almost yanking you out of minho’s grip. “you always want things your way, but she’s happy with me. she doesn’t need you anymore. i don’t need you to tell me what to do. i can take care of her now. by myself.”
“baby, breathe. i’m just hearing him out. that’s all.” you try to calm him down.
his grip is getting painful. “no, you don’t need to hear him, he’s just gonna make you feel bad again. he’s gonna make you think you have to stay with both of us, but you don’t. you only need me.”
“y/n, just give me two minutes. that’s all i’m asking. i’m here for you.”
jisung makes this frustrated little jealous noise. “stop talking to her! stop looking at her! she doesn’t want you, she told you to leave! why won’t you just leave?! y/n please, tell him to go. tell him you don’t need him. tell him you only want me, please. i don’t want you to leave me for him.”
“hey, sungie, no. nothing like that is happening.” you try, you really do. “don’t think like that, that’s not true. i just want his truth, not him.”
jisung looks ready to physically fight his best friend if that’s what it takes to keep you. so he yanks you to his chest, wrapping both arms around you. his heart is hammering, you can feel it. at the exact same time minho steps in closer, refusing to let go of your wrist. the three of you are so close. bodies touching, breathing, all three.
you’re scared.
the two actually snarl in each other’s faces.
jisung has his pretty lips pulled back like a dog. “get your hand off her.”
“don’t fucking pull her like that.” minho growls.
…holy shit.
you can barely move.
that’s hot.
best friends for years and now they look like they want to rip each other’s throats out.
you try to breathe. it’s tight in here. “minho… just talk. say what you need to say. we can do it like this.”
jisung shakes his head, face pressed to the side of your head. “no, i don’t want him talking. i don’t want him here. he’s just gonna lie again and make you feel bad. i don’t like this. i don’t want this.”
“baby, let him talk. please. i’m right here in your arms, see? i’m not going anywhere, you’ll make sure of that. i know you can protect me. just let him say what he needs to say.”
they fucking snarl again then they pull away from each other at the same time, minho lets go of you, jisung doesn’t. he keeps you tight to his chest and turns you away from minho. minho steps back too, arms crossed over his chest, looking pissed and tired and done with both of you.
“no. i don’t like this. he shouldn’t be here. he made you cry. he made you scared.”
minho actually moves his face like a brat. raise of his eyebrows, tilt of his head. “fine. you want to act like this? then i’ll wait.”
“you’re both acting like fucking children.” you say.
jis makes a hurt little noise and buries his face in your neck. “i’m not a child, i just don’t want him to take you away.” you are you fucking dipshit.
minho looks away. he’s pissed, really pissed, but he’s also smart enough not to escalate it physically.
you take a deep breath and try to get yourself together, to think of the best way to solve this. “min. say what you have to say. right now. i’m listening.” then you look up at the boyfriend. “jis, shut up. just listen. let him talk. you have me.”
jisung makes a small and unhappy whine on your neck. his behavior makes brutally sense, actually, he’s wrong. that much is obvious. his brain never developed the normal emotional regulation most people have. he has massive defects in impulse control and emotional processing, when he gets attached to something (you), his brain floods with dopamine and oxytocin and that can be addictive for someone like him, his entire emotional regulation system now depends on your presence.
when you pull away even slightly, his nervous system goes into panic. cortisol level, his fear center goes fucking crazy. he literally feels like he’s dying when you’re gone because his underdeveloped prefrontal shi can’t deal with the fear response. that’s why the tantrums, the whining, the libido, the always wanting you only to himself. it’s not just being spoiled like it was said earlier, it’s his brain that never learned how to selfsoothe, it usually needs someone else to do that for him when not turning into the killer version of himself. losing you is unbearable to him.
minho is the opposite problem. he has extremely high cognitive control, the way he manipulated and pulled you the fuck around is rooted in his own attachment wounds. jisung is his project, his responsibility, his only real friend. when you entered the picture, you became part of that system, minho didn’t just fall for you with normal love, he put you into his surviving needs.
he feels very little guilt because his moral compass is heavily leaning toward ends justify the means. he can admit he did bad things, but in his head they were necessary evils. his love for you is real, but it’s bad for any of you. right now he’s trying to work the fear out he doesn’t usually deal with so he barely can now.
“i did it because i was scared.” he tells you. “the killings were getting closer together. he was unstable. when you showed up, he became okay again. i saw it immediately, so i did what i had to do to keep you here. i’m sorry, but the alternative was watching him destroy himself, and maybe other people, again.” he’s sorry. well, as much as he can be while still knowing that he was supposedly in the right.
jisung puts his nose into your hair. “you didn’t have to lie though. you could’ve told her. she’s smart. she would’ve understood. eventually.” his voice is grumpy but not mean. also, eventually, he picked that word up from you.
“maybe, but i wasn’t willing to risk it. i’ve known you since we were kids, man. i’ve cleaned up too many bodies, i couldn’t take the chance.”
you sigh, watch his pretty face. why is he so pretty but so evil? “so you just… decided my life for me.”
“yeah. i did. his life mattered more to me than your freedom at the time.” ouch.
jisung makes a small sound, pressing his face into your hair. “but she’s mine now. she chose me, you can’t take her back. i don’t need you to take care of me anymore, i can do it myself.”
minho watches jisung’s face. “i see that. you are getting better. she’s good for you. better than i ever was.”
oh that’s manipulation. what fucking cringe ass bitch would say that out loud if it wasn’t for their own sake? minho’s not a sappy asshole, he said this heartfelt shit to make any of you two softer on him.
jisung holds you to himself. he can’t see what minho does with his words. you can. “she is. she’s the best. so you should stop trying to get her back.”
you feel his heart racing behind your back. he’s trying so hard to be calm, but you can feel how much he hates this, minho being in your space, minho talking to you, minho existing near you. his independence is real now, but it’s fragile.
you slide your hand up into his hair, gentle, through the strands, petting him slowly. soothing your boyfriend. he whines into your neck.
you look at minho. “sorry… for doing this in front of you. he needs it.” talking about being this physical and lovey dovey.
“no no it’s okay.” minho says quickly.
“yeah.” you reply.
“yeah.”
…
“i mean… it’s fine.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.
“yeah.”
“yeah.” jisung mumbles into your shoulder. he just says it because you said it.
the three of you stand there in the most awkward silence known to man for a solid five seconds.
you clear your throat. “i kinda do get what you were doing, i see through it now, but i also understand why. i’m still pissed about how you did it… but i get the reason.”
“but you don’t have to forgive him.” jisung mutters into your hair. “he still lied, he still hurt you. you don’t have to understand him.”
you reach back and squeeze his arm gently. “calm down. i’m not forgiving him right now. i’m just saying i understand where his head was at. that’s all.”
he whines, pressing his face into your shoulder. “i don’t want you to understand him.”
“you’re shaking.” you whisper up to him.
he is. his whole big body is trembling behind you. jealousy. hurt. fear. his best friend of years had kept massive secrets from you. had used him. had hurt the person he loves most. it’s messing with his simple head more and he doesn’t know how to express that.
“it’s talked through for now.” you tell minho. “go home, minho. i’ll think about everything. tonight i’m staying with jisung.”
“alright. i’ll go.”
he gives jisung one last look, complicated and sad between them, then mans himself up and walks out.
“thank you.” jisung mumbles into your neck.
you turn in his arms and hug him properly, both hands in his hair now.
he’s beautiful. always have been. you love him, like this exactly. “he hurt my feelings too.” he tells you. “that made me sad. i don’t like being sad at him.”
“i know, baby. it’s complicated. but you’re okay right now.” he really does need those words. you massage his scalp softly.
“i’m not really in the mood for sex tonight.” he mumbles out.
you smile, you can’t help it. obvi know that he assumed sex for tonight because being physical is almost a daily thing. you know he won’t even change his mind if he saw what you had under your clothes and you don’t want him to change his mind. “that’s more than okay.”
“thank you. i just… i don’t feel sexy right now. i feel sad. and mad at minho.”
“hm. okay. actually, i’m thinking maybe i should talk to minho again. not right now, but soon. properly. i need to understand more. not just from you, but from him too. he was part of this whole thing for years.”
he tenses up. “but why? he hurt you. he lied. he made you scared. you don’t need him, you have me now. i can take care of you.”
“baby, minho was your person for a long time, and there is some truth in the things he said just now. i’m just trying to understand the full picture, that’s all. i’m not letting him take me away from you, i promise.”
jisung thought minho would take you because in his simple but very male brain that’s exactly what he would expect another man to do.
jisung has spent years watching minho be the one in control. minho was the caretaker, the decisionmaker, the fixer. for most of jisung’s life, minho was the only consistent person, cleaned up his messes, and told him what was safe. that created a very specific imprint in jisung’s head, minho gets what he wants, minho manages things, minho takes care of what’s “his.” so when you entered the picture and became the most important thing in jisung’s world, his brain automatically assumed minho would see you the same way.
not wrong about that part, even.
it’s not that jisung thinks minho is evil, it’s that he knows minho is strategic. minho always plans three steps ahead, minho always finds the best way to keep the system running. and right now, in jisung’s limited but very honest view of the world, you are the most important part of that system. so of course minho would try to take you back, of course he would push, manipulate, and refuse to leave. that’s what men do when they want something important. that’s what jisung would do if the roles were reversed.
and jisung is a man. a very physical, very instinctdriven man. when jisung sees another male (especially one he knows well) getting close to his chosen “mate”(we’re really taking humans down to animals here, but we are animals after all) it triggers what says protect what’s yours. that’s what animals do too. that’s what we always do too. it doesn’t matter that minho is his best friend.
add to that the fact that jisung knows minho better than almost anyone, actually yeah better than anyone. and he’s seen how minho always wins in the long game, so when minho showed up at your door and refused to leave, jisung’s brain didn’t see his old best friend trying to apologize, it saw a bigger, smarter male trying to reclaim territory. trying to take jisung’s person, jisung’s girl.
that’s why he got so possessive. so childish. why he kept pulling you into his chest, why he kept interrupting, why he physically tried to block minho from even looking at you. so basically tried to stop everything that minho could have used. it wasn’t just jealousy, it was pure primal fucking fear that the one person who has always been stronger and smarter than him (in jisung’s eyes) was about to take away his only love.
if minho wants her, he’ll find a way. he always finds a way. and if he takes her, i’ll go back to being :( again.
but now he’s safe. you told him. and he believes you, always believes you. but he also needs more comfort, so after a bit of just soaking up your touch, he takes one of your hands from his hair and brings your pointer finger to his mouth.
he looks up at you with those big boba baby eyes as he parts his lips and sucks your finger in.
it always feels weird, to you. to him, it’s comforting. he keeps eye contact the whole time.
“i’m still angry at minho, y’know.” you say. “but i also see why he did it. he really loves you, sungie. he was scared of losing you. that doesn’t make it right, but it makes sense.”
he nods around your finger.
“i don’t know what’s going to happen with him, but it’s going to take a while. so don’t worry about it now. don’t worry about it at all. i like it here with you, just us. you know that.”
he pulls off your finger. it’s cold now. “i like just us too. i feel better when it’s only you and me.”
“i know.”
he sighs and puts his face in your neck. you hold him. you know how much this moved him. you calm him, you’re there for him.
minho would have done the same.
after closing the door, when you two go to sleep, he’s like, cuddlier than usual. and that’s a big word. he falls asleep faster than usual too.
you lie awake for a while, but fall asleep too. it was hard, but you need it, and know you can’t avoid tomorrow anyways. or maybe you even want tomorrow to come. to hear minho out.
a few days later you sat down and talked with minho. talked it out, kinda. jisung had to be talked down like three separate times because he kept getting anxious, you had to keep rubbing his arm, letting him hold your hand, he needed it. a lot.
you understood him better. so slowly, the harmony started coming back. jisung started going back to the old apartment more regularly. well, he still sleeps at your place every night, the husband ever, but to visit. he’d give you a long kiss goodbye, tell you “i’m gonna see the cats and minho, i’ll be home for dinner.”
he started giving minho his daily hugs again. like holds him for a few seconds, mumbling “missed you man” minho would pat his back.
jisung needs that physical reassurance, most people aren’t this touch starved, minho had been his only person for years, getting that back, even a little bit, helped jisung even more. he’s doing really well nowadays.
he also started spending way more time with the cats. he’d sit on the floor for hours sometimes, petting the three. they like him. minho said it was the healthiest thing he’d seen jisung do in years, you agreed. watching your fuckass murderer boyfriend with three cats headbutting him was healing for everyone.
one afternoon you even went with him. you sat on the living room floor with the cats while jisung and minho were in the kitchen doing men things(talking about motor oil while eating chips and giggling around).
it didn’t all go back to perfect in a second, of course. minho was still careful around you, walking on eggshells, you were still a little cold toward him sometimes, still angry about how he played you, but the tension was easing. you two wanted to get along, after all.
jisung is not scared about minho taking you anymore. and he is getting more independent these days, living away from minho forced him to grow up a little. he notices more things now.
oh especially when jeongin and chan flirt with you.
everytime you three end up in the same place, parties, them inviting your trio over to drink, whatevs, jeongin with his little hand kisses and “babe” this and “pretty” that. chan is just loud and mean to the others to seem better in your eyes and keeps putting his biceps everywhere. they don’t get why you keep turning them down.
and as we said, jisung notices their bullshit now. he starts hovering, big hand on you, usually your lower back, trying to protect you. aww. he gets… bitchy. sulky.
“why does innie keep kissing your hand?” he asks you later in bed when you’re on your phone. “he knows you’re my girlfriend. why does he do that? it’s stupid. he’s stupid.”
“he… doesn’t know, i think.”
“and i think he does.” he really doesn’t, jis. “and chan keeps looking at your boobs, i saw it. i hate it. why do they keep doing that?”
you look down at him. “wanna make people know i’m yours?”
“yes.”
you raise your brows. smile. he stares blankly for a few seconds. realizes you’re hinting to giving hickeys. he smiles too.
yeah that… ended in sex too. anyways. he gets so fucking childish, stomps around your apartment when you get home from seeing them, crosses his arms and pouts the annoying little bitch, once he even refused to eat dinner because “chan touched your arm today and you smiled.” you had to sit on his lap and feed him until he calmed down.
“what the fuck is the lil dude’s problem lately?” jeongin asks one night when looks like he wants to bite, staring at jisung. “he used to be chill.”
chan shrugs, shoveling cereal into his mouth. “maybe he’s on his period.“
that’s also how they find out you’re not dating minho.
one night when you five are drinking again and jeongin makes some joke about “minho’s girl”, jisung looks around, so dumb, and says “she’s not minho’s girl. she’s my girlfriend. why do you keep saying she’s with minho?”
silence.
the two look at you. you nod.
“you two are fucking idiots.” minho mutters. “she’s never been with me, she’s with jisung. has been for a while now. so maybe stop trying to fuck his girlfriend, okay?”
the two look at each other with huge eyes. they’re so fucking empty.
at least they’re not the next jisung kills. because jisung does kill again, unfortunately.
minho and you are at your place, sitting next to each other, calm conversation. you two are still healing. jisung was supposed to come home later, which he does, but when he arrives he’s covered in fresh blood. not dripping this time, but definitely soaked.
“hi baby.” he says, kicking his bloody shoes off. “i’m home.”
minho is on his feet instantly. you feel your stomach drop.
“fuck.” minho mutters. “jis, bathroom. now.”
lucky thing that you’re not someone who’s easily disgusted by blood. you are disgusted, but not to the point of throwing up. if you were someone like that then back at the first night when you saw jisung bloody, things maybe wouldn’t have gone that well.
jisung stands there letting you both undress him. “the guy bumped into me really hard. i ripped his throat. i think i ate part of his arm too. sorry.”
minho sighs. “we’ll talk about it later. arms up.”
you and minho clean him together in the bathroom. he stands there in this underwear. it’s fucking adorable. you wipe the blood off his face with a wet cloth while minho handles the worse parts, his hands, his chest, his neck.
you’re disgusted by the blood, not by your lovely boyfriend.
the teamwork with minho actually builds some of your friendship back up, it’s great, even better with the adorable way that you two wrap jisung in a towel and the three of you sit down on the couch. jisung in the middle, fresh, head on your shoulder, one hand holding minho’s hand. you three are building back.
so everyone got what they wanted in the end. minho got you two back. jisung got his girlfriend. you got a perfect boyfriend.
you accept what he is. well, it took a lot of time, but you’re attached, and see his meaning. plus with him, you know you’re needed, irreplaceable, essential. humans are made to crave that. jisung gives you that in massive, unhealthy doses. and your brain has adapted to him, first time seeing him bloody and wild and ready to end himself for you creeped you the fuck out, but with repeated exposure, you stopped associating his blood covered state with a threat. it’s become… familiar. almost normal. you see his postkill calm face and you recognize it as jisung after releasing pressure, not danger. not anymore. and you know that he doesn’t choose this, it’s not sadism or anything, it’s a neurological thing. once your brain decides something is not a threat to me, it stops treating it like one.
you accept him because you’ve seen the alternative. you’re not just in love with the man, you’re in love with how he reacts to you, what you are to him. you feel like you’re saving him. healing him. that’s maaaaaybe a little narcissistic, but it is what it is.
you don’t approve of the killing, you hate it, but you’ve accepted that it’s part of the package. like dating someone with a chronic illness. the illness isn’t their fault, and you love the person, not the disease. and you know jisung would never hurt you, he’s said it a thousand times and you believe him. he’d destroy everything in the whole fucking world before letting anything touch you.
did minho ever got over his crush on you? no, not fully. he wants more than just the three of you working. he still feels that attraction towards you. lowkey yearning. he’s accepted his place, but that doesn’t mean the feelings died. late at night when he’s alone in his room, or when he watches you pet jisung’s hair, he still wants you.
you suspect. but you don’t really care, not in a bad way, you just let it exist. you’ve got bigger things to worry about than minho’s complicated feelings.
jisung has no clue. his entire world is you, when he’s not thinking about your personality, your face, the cute little nicknames you call him, how you scratch his scalp just right, he’s thinking about your pussy. how it feels when you ride him, how wet you get when he begs, how you look when you cum(he loves making you cum), minho is the second after you. he loves minho, but you’re his main shit. everything else is… everything else.
that shows in how he brings you flowers he picked himself (kind of ugly ones, but the thought counts), he kills less. still does, but it’s rarer, and after he comes home to you instead of painting more alleys red. yeah a few years ago it wasn’t unusual that he killed multiple people a night, minho told you about that too.
minho is… at peace, mostly. he gets to be useful again, that’s what he needs. he still manipulates a little, old habits die hard, but it’s not with an evil, manipulative intention now, so he doesn’t even really mean this one.
you’ve accepted what your boyfriend is. you’ve accepted that your other… whatever minho is… is a possessive, lowkey evil little mastermind. you love them that way.
yeah even minho, after all. you still want to punch him sometimes, but the three of you love each other. you let him back into your life only in careful doses, coffee together, little talks, the occasional shared dinner, you’re starting to trust him again.
jisung is happier than he’s ever been. he gets his girlfriend and his best friend and his cats. he gets to fuck you almost every night and then fall asleep with you. that heals him lots too. he’s loved.
you’ve accepted it. that your boyfriend is a serial killer and that he doesn’t really understand why murder is bad, that his best friend is a psychopath and he also once manipulated the shit out of you but whatever it was for a good cause, that you’re in love with the first and weirdly attached to the second.
you love them.
and they love you.
that’s how it is now.
that’s how it’s going to stay.
author’s note: the end<3 left that last line there to make it dramatic as i always try to make the last lines, the an was supposed to be the “the end<3” only too to seem deep but wanted to say that later on minho most likely convinces jisung to propose to reader and he does and they live happily ever after<3 shii hundred times better than my hyunjin fic’s end(jk idc i still find that one the best) anyways all done part three in the works rn, that’s next!! and oh god i felt disgusted writing him kill the woman, i did it for the audiences that like it.
tags: @fics-lovebot @nougatjade @itsraininghyunebuckets @simpqueen2025 @alondra6011 @jaykaavfxcq @soldantae @angelbbygrl @lovelyzghostss @xoxobratz @btch8008s @elizaliza159 @fairyprincesslvr21 @carrotcakeesblog @flamegirl @lixwrld @franaby @bee-gremlin @gardeniashellfire @nevermoreraven1 @sapphirewaves @twilightavenue @pinkdollyy1 @akindaflora @eclips-moon @danielle143 @rayraymylove @niku0704 @herondale-lightworm @btch8008s @elqk @puoeri @spearbuunn @lttlekomori @importantphantomjellyfish @honeyyyy21 @g1ul1a-s @skzruby @v3n7s @omghidokyeom @luvvvivi @jeonginsfavglazer @cafemirka @minniebitesfr @ariaaleelynn @yessirfelix @star-my @sk1nnylikefel1x @hanniballecters @caylajiang
🕸️ G.E.O.M.I.
ᯓ⭑ bonus installment ⭑.ᐟ
characters: spider-han + tony stark + geomi (my beloved lil guy) genre/tags: spider-man/marvel au, mcu crossover, sidestory, world-building word count: 1.1k synopsis: Jisung is far too valuable (and dangerous) to be left alone, so he accidentally built his own babysitter.
[a/n] so i've featured Geomi a few times in a couple of installments so far and this is her/its origin! she's based off Karen and Jarvis from the mcu. her name is pronounced "guh-mee" and is korean for spider. this also introduces 2/3 of jisung's work team. they're getting their own bonus oneshot eventually
additionally stream venom by skz ;)
⋆˚࿔ series: i'm still here, aren't i? ⋆ m.list ⋆
The lab was too white. A kind of sterile absence of all color that was not at all natural. The kind of white that made you keenly aware you were only human.
Jisung stood in the center of the testing rig wearing nothing but a pair of compression shorts, his arms held slightly away from his sides as the suit assembled around him piece by piece. The armor plating had been removed for the upgrade, leaving the exposed framework of the endoskeleton wrapped around him like another set of bones.
After months of field testing, the previous prototype had reached its limit. The suit had been designed to support a human body; Jisung had become the inconvenient exception. The new system was meant to close that gap.
Today's installation was a later prototype developed by Seungmin and Jisung: an integrated sensor network designed to read his movements in real time and allow the suit to respond before he consciously commanded it. The previous versions relied too heavily on manual controls. This one was meant to learn him. Thin filaments extended from the collar and disappeared beneath the base of his skull when the mask connected, running down toward the port fitted at the end of his spine. The connection was delicate despite the machinery involved, a series of interfaces designed to translate his nervous system into data the suit could understand.
The first wave of neural feedback felt strange - cold then warm. That was the part Jisung never liked. The technology was precise and safe, but there was something unsettling about a machine learning his body before he had even moved…even though he designed it.
Across the glass partition, Tony Stark didn’t look up from his tablet.
“Okay,” Stark said. “Don’t move - or do. It’s a free country. Actually, try not to do the spider thing where you break my lab.”
“I don’t break things,” Jisung muttered automatically. Then, quieter: “Not on purpose.”
That earned him a sharp, assessing glance, like Stark was still deciding whether that was a joke or not.
“Exactly,” Stark said. “That’s why I built you a babysitter.”
Jisung frowned. “I don’t need a—”
“GEOMI is not a babysitter, okay,” Stark cut in. “It’s an all-purpose program for all your medical, emotional, and operational needs. Think of it as…a really judgmental life support system.”
That didn’t make Jisung feel better.
A soft click echoed through the suit as the last of the shell sealed together around him, with the mask being last. The inside of the helmet lit up - a subtle glow through the lenses at first, then windows flashing rapidly one by one, like on an old computer. Date. Time. Location. Weather. Web fluid status. Suit status. Vitals. Heart rate. Respiration. Muscle tension. Micro tremor in the left hand. Jisung went still.
“…Whoa,” he said quietly, his lenses buzzing as his vision darted side-to-side. “That’s inside my head.”
“Technically,” Stark said, “it’s inside your suit. Don’t be dramatic.”
The HUD stabilized, collapsing into a mini-map and icons dotted around his periphery. A small tone sounded as an icon of a little spider flashed in the bottom right corner of his eye. Then a voice spoke.
G.E.O.M.I. online.
Jisung froze. It wasn’t Stark speaking. It wasn’t the lab speakers. It was in the suit, resounding through bone-conduction channels and helmet acoustics. It spoke from him.
Stark leaned back slightly. “And we’re live from New York.”
The voice continued.
Guidance, Evaluation, Observation and Medical Intelligence activated.
Jisung flinched. The little spider icon glowed. Then, softer:
Hello, Peter Jisung Han.
His throat tightened. “It knows my name.”
“Yeah,” Stark said. “It read your file.”
“I don’t like that it knows my name.”
“Everything knows your name at this point. That’s kind of the point.”
Jisung ignored him because the voice had somehow shifted again. Not louder, but closer like it was inside him.
Baseline vitals established. Heart rate elevated beyond resting threshold. This is consistent with stress response.
Jisung swallowed, “I’m fine.”
That statement is not supported by current biometric data.
He blinked hard. “…Excuse me?”
Stark made a low sound like he was enjoying this.
“GEOMI,” Jisung said carefully, “stop monitoring me like I’m—like I’m—”
Like you are at risk of injury? the system supplied gently.
Jisung’s hands curled slightly. “I don’t need it talking to me.”
Acknowledged, GEOMI replied immediately. I will minimize non-essential verbal interaction.
Relief flickered as the spider icon dimmed to a flat outline.
“Hold on,” Stark lifted a hand. “Define ‘non-essential,’ buddy.”
“I don’t think it should respond to ev—“ Jisung began.
“Not you, Pete. GEOMI.”
There was a pause, like it was considering its words carefully. Its icon pulsed like it was loading.
Non-essential includes: reassurance statements, conversational prompts unrelated to physiological stability, and emotional commentary not required for intervention.
Jisung exhaled. “Good. Yes. That. Just…don’t do that.”
…but GEOMI spoke again. And this time, something in its tone shifted so subtly he almost missed it.
Jisung.
“…Yeah?” He made the effort not to snap despite the continued conversation; he didn’t want to be rude for some reason.
You have not moved for twelve seconds. Your breathing has slowed. This is consistent with suppression behavior following stress response.
He frowned. “Suppression behavior?”
Stark, under his breath: “Oh no.”
GEOMI continued. Recommendation: do not suppress. Suppression increases likelihood of delayed neural overload and subsequent motor instability.
Jisung’s jaw tightened. “I said I’m fine.”
Then GEOMI responded, quieter than before - but not in volume. It was like it could soften its tone. That statement is still not supported.
Jisung stared forward, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. Then, almost under his breath: “…Why does it sound like it’s worried about me?”
Stark didn’t answer right away. “Kid, you know.”His voice had lost some of the humor. “Because it’s not just tracking your body - it’s tracking what your body does when your brain lies.”
Jisung’s stomach dropped. He and Changbin had spent weeks discussing and designing a program that could act as a safety net for the Spider-Man suit’s pilot - a system capable of recognizing danger before it became catastrophic It would monitor the body beneath the armor and intervene when the person inside failed to prioritize their own survival. It was supposed to account for every variable they couldn’t control and the instinct to keep going long after the body had reached its limit.
Jisung knew exactly why they were building it, but he didn’t always have the how. That had been the compromise - if Tony wanted him to keep wearing the suit, then Jisung wanted a say in how it kept him alive. However, Stark operated under almost Faustian conditions: Jisung was the lead researcher for Project ARIADNE, but Stark would always have the final say.
GEOMI spoke again. I am not equipped to leave you unattended in this state.
Then, like it had learned a script and didn’t yet understand the weight of such a sentence:
I will remain active.
psst, this is my baby girl
i may have smth ready for monday but i still have a few thousand words to go…
will have something cool for next week :D
✧ sharing is caring
◞⁺⊹ . ( best friends!chan x hyunjin ) a bottle of tequila, two men, and zero boundaries— what could possibly go wrong?
tw: alcohol use (between all three of you), fingering, nipple play, spit kink, double penetration (in one hole), rough sex?, idk what else to add but it’s very freaky sjdjjss
the night started like any other.
the three of you were crammed onto chan’s couch, a bottle of tequila on the coffee table and shot glasses in hand, tipsily laughing at one of hyunjin’s ridiculous stories. these late-night hangouts were a regular thing, a tradition built over years of friendship. but tonight… tonight felt different.
maybe it was the alcohol loosening your inhibitions, or perhaps it was the way hyunjin leaned closer than usual, his long fingers brushing your thigh every now and then as you sat cross-legged on the couch. it could’ve been the way chan watched the two of you— not laughing or joking, just staring with a near-predatory focus that made your skin prickle.
by the time hyunjin suggested a game of strip poker, you were just drunk enough to think it’d be fun.
bad idea.
- - -
you were terrible at poker.
half an hour in, you were already down to your bra and panties while the guys were still holding steady in their jeans. hyunjin’s shirt was gone, of course, and chan had peeled off his hoodie early on, but they both managed to act seemingly unbothered. meanwhile, you were practically squirming in embarrassment, crossing your legs and squeezing your thighs together to keep their wandering eyes at bay.
“you’re fucking cheating,” you grumbled, tossing your cards down with a huff.
“you’re just bad at bluffing,” hyunjin teased, his gaze dragging lazily across your exposed skin as his lips curled into a sly grin.
“he’s not wrong,” chan added, taking a sip of his drink, his dimples flashing as his eyes lingered just a moment too long on the swell of your chest. “you’ve got a terrible poker face.”
you shot him a glare, but it only seemed to amuse him more.
“fine,” you muttered, rising from your seat to go grab another drink and ignoring the way hyunjin’s gaze dropped straight to your ass as soon as you turned your back.
after too many rounds, way too many shots, and not nearly enough wins to even pretend you had a chance at dignity any longer, things took a turn you hadn’t expected.
chan leaned back in his seat, fingers drumming against his thigh, looking like he was contemplating something.
“just admit it,” he said suddenly, the words cutting through the hazy warmth of the room.
you paused mid-sip of your tequila, glancing over at him with furrowed brows. “admit what?”
chan raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking between you and hyunjin, his tongue pressing briefly into his cheek before he spoke.
“that you two have been hooking up.”
your heart nearly dropped into the bottom of your shot glass.
“what?” you stammered, spilling a few drops of tequila onto the floor. “i- i don’t know what you’re talking about.” the heat creeping up your cheeks made your denial much less convincing.
hyunjin wasn’t exactly subtle either. his eyes went wide, and in his usual terrible attempts at hiding literally anything, he instantly choked on his drink, coughing and sputtering as he hastily wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
chan scoffed, his suspicions only growing as he looked between the two of you, clearly entertained by your awkward, fumbling denials. “seriously? you really think you can lie to me?” he leaned forward slightly, bracing his elbows on his knees. “the sneaky looks, the weird excuses at parties when i leave the room, the way you’ve both been acting tonight… come on, i’m not an idiot.”
“must be off base on this one, man,” hyunjin murmured weakly, scratching at the back of his neck, but chan wasn’t buying it.
“am i?” chan pressed, his tone shifting— lighter, but with a cruel edge buried beneath it. “you’re not even that subtle about it. either you thought you were being sneaky enough, or you just didn’t care if i noticed. my guess is the latter.”
the smugness laced in chan’s voice sent a sharp buzz of irritation through you, snapping the last threads of your patience. you let out a loud sigh, sitting up straighter as your eyes flicked briefly to hyunjin’s before landing on chan.
“fine, okay, yes,” you admitted, shooting hyunjin a half-apologetic, half-exasperated look. “whatever- you got us. we’ve hooked up a couple of times. and?”
hyunjin groaned softly under his breath, slouching slightly, as if trying to disappear. “fuck’s sake, man,” he muttered, side-eyeing chan.
chan tilted his head like he quite literally wasn’t stirring the pot, “why didn’t you just tell me?”
“because it’s none of your business,” you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest and sinking slightly back into the couch.
“it kinda is,” chan countered, his voice low, dangerously close to a growl. his body seemed to move closer, gaze narrowing as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “you guys are my friends, aren’t you?”
“so what?” hyunjin cut in, his hands gripping his knees as a faint flush tinted his cheeks. his tone was sharp, but the tension in his voice betrayed him. “what’s the point here? you already seem to know everything anyway.”
“the point,” chan said matter-of-factly, “is that you might as well stop sneaking around.”
hyunjin frowned, leaning forward warily. “what the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
you didn’t miss the way chan’s gaze burned hotter the longer he looked at you, like he was debating just how far he could push this.
“i’m saying…” he trailed off, shifting his gaze briefly to hyunjin before turning his attention back to you, “…if you’re going to keep fucking around, why not just be honest about it? especially since…” his voice dropped further, dragging the pause just enough to make your stomach twist with nervous anticipation.
“…i want in.”
the silence that followed was crushing.
“what?” you finally breathed, the single word spilling from your lips in disbelief.
chan raised an eyebrow, clearly unbothered by your shock. “you heard me.”
you stared at him, mouth opening and closing, but your brain scrambled for something to say— anything to make sense of what you’d just heard.
“wow,” hyunjin muttered after another painstakingly long pause, rubbing his temples like the entire conversation was giving him a migraine. “you’re not even pretending to hold back, are you?”
“should i?” chan shot back easily, a teasing grin plastered across his face. he gestured casually towards you, as though the answer was obvious. “look at her. she’s sitting there in her fucking bra and panties, blushing like a virgin when i say anything remotely dirty. you’re telling me you’ve touched her- fucked her- and it’s just supposed to be… what? a secret? i’m supposed to sit here and act like i’m not imagining it?”
you sat there completely frozen, partly from the audacity, and partly from the way the words made heat coil low within you.
hyunjin’s groan barely masked the faint twitch in his jaw— or the way his thigh pressed harder against yours, like he was fighting an urge of his own.
“what are we supposed to do about this, then?” hyunjin asked finally, his voice tight.
chan leaned back, casually draping his arm over the couch as if he’d already won. “easy,” he said, with a low voice that rolled off his tongue smoothly.
“…you share.”
- - -
you didn’t even have time to respond.
one second, you were gaping at chan in shocked silence; the next, hyunjin’s lips were on yours— hot, desperate, and claiming.
his hands moved to your waist instantly, pulling you into his lap like you belonged there. the kiss was messy, all tongue and teeth, and the hunger behind it made you mind spin. his nails dug lightly into your hips as he guided them down against him, hardening against you with each slow grind.
“she’s not just yours,” chan muttered. his voice vibrating with possessiveness that left your thighs clenching as he moved closer.
chan’s hands gripped your thighs from behind, spreading them further apart as hyunjin kissed you harder, tilting your head back in his hands to deepen the connection. the sudden shift left you balancing precariously, thighs trembling as you braced yourself with a soft moan.
“god,” hyunjin breathed, his lips leaving yours to trail sloppy, wet kisses along your jaw and neck, his soft, silky voice dripping with praise. “you’re so fucking pretty, you know that? can’t believe i didn’t get more of you sooner.”
but there wasn’t time to reply because chan grabbed your chin, chuckling darkly at the dazed look on your face as he tilted it toward him.
“don’t hog her, hyunjin,” chan teased, his breath ghosting over your lips for just a second before he kissed you.
unlike hyunjin’s aggression, chan’s kiss was wickedly controlled, his tongue sliding past your lips as he took his time tasting you. he tasted faintly like tequila, intoxicating on their own, and every calculated movement of his mouth drove you closer to that edge of dizzying surrender.
“you thought you were so sneaky, huh?” chan murmured into your mouth, one of his hands sliding up your side to slip under the strap of your bra. fingers curling around your bare skin as he gave you a soft squeeze. “hooking up with him. sneaking around like a bad little girl.”
“you wouldn’t have lasted one night being subtle,” hyunjin laughed breathily, his hands shifting to the unclasp your bra just as chan tugged at the strap, spreading you open to their hungry stares.
“fuck,” chan groaned, his broad palm cupping one breast, his thumb brushing lazily over the peak before leaning down to suck it lightly into his mouth.
“god, your tits,” he muttered as his tongue flicked out, swirling around your swollen nipple. he grinned against your skin when you let out a broken moan, your chest arching instinctively into his mouth. “you’re gonna fall apart before we even really start, aren’t you, baby?”
“she’s so sensitive,” hyunjin murmured fondly, his tone almost admiring as his slender fingers trailed delicately down your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
it wasn’t long before his hand dipped past your panties, but he only stroked teasingly at first, fingers brushing lightly over the damp lace. when he pressed a finger more firmly against your slick entrance, you gasped, your hips involuntarily jerking forward.
“oh, you like that, huh?” hyunjin grinned, curling his fingers against the soaked fabric. “you’re already so wet.” his words made you whimper softly, shaky little breaths spilling from your lips as your head tilted back against chan’s shoulder.
but, of course, chan wasn’t interested in hyunjin drawing things out.
“stop fucking around,” he snapped, leveling hyunjin with a look that sent heat straight to your core.
without waiting, chan’s hand moved in tandem with hyunjin’s, his calloused fingers hooking into your panties and tugging them down roughly.
“these are in the way,” chan said gruffly, tossing the lace to the side carelessly, and then his fingers were there— two thick digits plunging inside you without hesitation.
“fuck, chan,” you moaned, your hands gripping his thick thighs for balance as he moved his fingers rhythmically, curling them so perfectly that you were practically seeing stars.
“yeah, that’s right,” chan growled against your ear, taking incredible pride in the way your hips bucked against his hand. “you begged for this earlier, didn’t you? you didn’t even know what for, just said ‘please’ like a bratty little slut.”
hyunjin let out a soft chuckle at that, his thumb gently stroking at your trembling thigh. “don’t be mean to her,” he murmured, his fingers returning to rub slow circles around your clit.
it was too much— chan’s large, skilled fingers filling you so perfectly, his palm slapping lightly against your folds with every thrust, and hyunjin’s more delicate touch finding that sensitive bundle of nerves like it was his secret weapon.
when you tried to twist your hips to pull away and get some form of relief, chan wrapped an arm around your waist, pinning you firmly against his chest with a cocky laugh.
“where do you think you’re going, huh?” he taunted, his teeth grazing your earlobe as he drove his fingers deeper, the squelching sound embarrassingly loud in the quiet of the room. “you’re gonna take everything we give you, baby, whether you like it or not.”
“fuck, you’re so wet for us,” hyunjin whispered in awe, clearly enthralled by the mess slicking your thighs as he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. “you’re so perfect, baby- so good for us, yeah?”
their hands moved in perfect sync— chan’s rough and commanding, hyunjin’s gentle and precise— driving you completely insane.
“it’s too much,” you whimpered, shaking your head as your hands gripped chan’s forearm desperately.
“you can take more,” chan growled, nipping lightly at your shoulder. “you’ll take as much as we say, baby. because you’re ours now.”
“aren’t you, sweetheart?” hyunjin asked sweetly, his lips brushing your temple.
you nodded breathlessly, barely managing the words, “yes… oh, fuck, yes.”
chan finally let you fall over that edge, your orgasm crashing down hard enough to send your thighs violently trembling. his growls of praise and hyunjin’s soft whispers were all you could hear above the blood rushing in your ears.
“she’s a mess,” chan muttered, watching the way your legs twitched, still throbbing around his fingers as he finally pulled them out with a wet, obscene noise.
“a pretty mess,” hyunjin corrected with a small smile, wiping a few stray tears from your cheeks.
you were still trying to catch your breath, slumped bonelessly against chan’s chest, when he suddenly hauled you upright with zero effort, lifting you off hyunjin’s lap and onto the couch beside him.
“don’t even think about getting comfortable,” chan said, his dimpled grin softening the sharp command just barely as he leaned close, brushing his thumb over your swollen lips. “we’re not done yet, baby. not even close.”
“you think we’re just gonna stop here?” hyunjin asked, pressing a soft kiss against your inner thigh, his fingers ghosted over your skin, tracing patterns against the goosebumps there. “oh no, sweetheart… we’re having so much fun with you.”
your breath hitched, heat blooming forcefully back in your stomach despite the protest of your overstimulated body.
it wasn’t a question of whether they wanted to keep going— because the answer was crystal clear. the real question was whether you could handle it.
- - -
“please,” you whimpered, the words spilling out before you could stop yourself, barely aware of what you were even begging for as the pulsing heat low in your gut burned hotter. it didn’t matter— chan and hyunjin already knew exactly what you needed.
chan shifted behind you, pressing closer until his warmth practically consumed you whole, his hands on your hips guiding your body just enough to feel the stiff, unmistakable press of him against your ass.
“you feel that, sweetheart?” he asked as his hands slid down to squeeze your thighs, fingers digging possessively into the soft flesh. “you think you can take both of us?”
the weight of his implication hovered heavy in the air, the words tangled in hazy lust before they even fully registered.
hyunjin froze, his sharp inhale audible before a low, excited moan escaped him. “in one hole?” he repeated, his voice tinged with incredulity but mixed with drunken anticipation.
your head snapped between the two of them, cheeks hot enough to burn as their gazes pinned you in place. “i don’t think—”
“no, she can,” chan cut in, his confident drawl brooking no argument. his eyes gleamed, a cocky grin tugging at his lips. “we’ll fit- it’ll be tight, but she’s soaked enough.”
hyunjin’s gaze flickered from chan to you, wide-eyed for just a moment before he swallowed hard, that disbelief melting into an eager grin as his fingers shifted to hook beneath your knee.
“fuck it,” he muttered as he guided one of your legs over his shoulder, leaving you trembling and fully at their mercy. “let’s find out.”
needless to say it was…. messy at first, awkward and clumsy as the alcohol coursing through your veins left you all fumbling to adjust. hyunjin cursed under his breath when his hips didn’t line up the way he wanted, and chan’s booming laugh only irritated him further, his teeth flashing in a grin as he teased.
“are you really struggling this much, hyune?” chan said, his tone laced with mockery that set hyunjin’s jaw tight.
“fuck off,” hyunjin shot back, though the tinge of redness in his face gave him away.
“you’re the one who insisted on going first, pretty boy,” chan reminded him smugly, shifting ever so slightly to lean in closer, his hands gripping your leg. his voice dipped, softer now, as he addressed you instead. “don’t worry, baby. he’s just warming you up for me.”
chan’s calm, commanding presence was grounding, like a reassurance you shouldn’t need— but did.
hyunjin’s frustration softened the instant he began to ease inside you, his hands tightening on your hips as he pressed forward. the stretch burned slightly, but the sensation of fullness— his girth sliding deeper— drew a loud, trembling moan from you, your nails digging into chan’s forearms in search of stability.
“oh my goddd,” you gasped, the words high-pitched and breathless as your walls clenched tightly around him.
“fuuuckk, you’re taking me so well,” hyunjin muttered, his voice trembling against the overwhelming heat of your body. his eyes clamped shut for a moment as his hips sank flush against yours, bottoming out completely.
chan’s hand slid up your thigh, his calloused palm spreading over your skin. “good,” he said flatly with a rough edge of approval, his gaze fixed on where hyunjin disappeared inside you. “now make some room for me.”
hyunjin turned sharply to glare at him, his sharp features scrunching up. “seriously? i just got in.”
“you’ll live,” chan replied with a wicked laugh, his grin spreading wider with every grumble hyunjin muttered under his breath. but then chan’s focus shifted, and you felt the entire weight of it as he positioned himself.
the blunt, thick head of chan’s cock pressed at your entrance where hyunjin already filled you, the stretch making you gasp before he even started to push in.
“shiiiit,” chan swore under his breath, and the strain in his voice told you plenty— this wasn’t easy for him either.
“mmmph,” you whimpered again as chan began to inch his way next to hyunjin, the feeling so overwhelming you weren’t even sure how to process it.
it wasn’t painful per se, but it was almost too much— your walls struggling to accommodate the both of them as all the heat pooling in your belly snapped and coiled tighter.
“so fucking tight,” chan hissed. his fingers gripped your thighs like a lifeline, breathing hard as he pushed further, the stretch forcing his groan out in a deep, rough sound.
your head fell back with a desperate cry, your body trembling as heat flared through you like an unrelenting wave. you couldn’t stop the pathetic, broken moans spilling from your lips, your hips bucking slightly with every minor movement of theirs.
“hear that?” hyunjin rasped, his hands clutching your waist tighter to keep himself steady, his lips parted as he stared down at you in awe. “she’s fucking dripping.”
“yeah? no shit,” chan growled lowly, pressing against you fully now as his hips rolled experimentally. “can feel her clenching like fucking crazy.”
hyunjin might’ve still been annoyed when it started, but the second they found their rhythm, his frustration disappeared.
everything became too much all at once. hyunjin’s shorter, rhythmic thrusts paired with chan’s slower yet forceful pace left you shaking— the perfect combination that had your body thrumming like an overstretched string.
“so fucking good,” chan groaned in your ear, his deep voice sending vibrations rippling through you.
“she’s perfect,” hyunjin panted, his fingers tracing over the flushed skin of your hips as he angled himself just enough to hit the spot that made your vision white.
“push your tits together,” chan rasped suddenly, his movements faltering just enough to show how wrecked he was. “let me see them, baby. pretty little thing…”
you scrambled to obey, your hands trembling as you pressed your breasts together, pushing them up in offering. chan groaned loudly, the sound almost guttural, as he leaned forward, skimming his slick tongue down your neck and over your chest.
“that’s it,” he muttered against your skin, his teeth grazing the swell of your breasts before pressing a kiss between them. “so goddamn perfect for us.”
“fuck- spit on ‘em,” hyunjin added breathlessly from above you, his gaze glassy with lust as it flicked between your chest and your trembling mouth.
chan paused for a moment, sitting back to tilt your chin up toward him. “you heard him, sweetheart,” he murmured, running his thumb along your lower lip.
your lips parted instinctively, and he looked impossibly pleased as your tongue darted out slightly before he let a string of spit fall into your mouth.
“good girl,” he murmured, brushing the back of his hand down your cheek before leaning back to watch as you lazily let it drip from your lips, splashing lightly between the valley of your breasts. hyunjin groaned at the sight, his hips stuttering against you.
“she looks so fucking good like this,” hyunjin panted, his grip on your waist rougher now as he lost himself in the rhythm. “god, you’re amazing, baby.”
their combined movements had you spiraling. the heat, the weight of their bodies, their filthy words— it all came crashing together as your orgasm ripped through you, drawing out a sound so high-pitched and desperate it was almost embarrassing.
you clenched so tightly around them mid-orgasm that it sent hyunjin doubling over, his groan joining chan’s growls as they fucked you through your release, their movements faltering as they reached their own.
when they finally stilled, the three of you were trembling, shaking heaps of sweat-slicked skin twisted together.
chan kissed the side of your neck, his lips pressed soft and firm against your pulse. “good girl,” he murmured, voice still breathless and low.
“you’re fucking crazy,” hyunjin muttered, swiping at his damp hair with one hand as his chest heaved.
chan laughed softly, his grin cocky as he leaned forward to murmur, “and she’s not done yet.”
you could barely breathe, but the way your stomach flipped at his words told you one thing— neither of them planned to stop anytime soon.
perm taglist (open): @velvetmoonlght @kingsqueensandvagabonds @velechi @miniseungkimcami @eightisacompass @americanasdaughter @str4yk1dzstan @stayfreaky143
i’m so bad at writing threesomes istg skdkkdks, but i hope this made sense 😭😭
i knew most of the songs from today’s concert i would have had already seen during dominate and i’d only get fomo if they played phoenix (which they did 😭) but SLASH????
Hey Jisung, do you believe in fate? ⋆˚꩜｡
☆...━━━━━·:*☆...━━━━━·:*☆... Pairing: Jisung x afab!reader Genre: fluff & smut no minors pls! (Includes unprotec sex, fingering, nipple play, oral sex) 🌸🔞 Summary: Two strangers share a bench under a flickering streetlamp, waiting for a midnight bus that never arrives. Wc: 13k Enjoy reading <33 If you want any specific ideas tell me and I will see what I can do! A/N: There's smut at the end, this is more of a fluff fic lol skip to the 2nd band aid to read just the smut, I really enjoyed this fic love me some guitarist Jiji, I wrote this as I was rewatching Nana and wanted to write something more romantic (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ ☆...━━━━━·:*☆...━━━━━·:*☆...
✧( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )✧
"Hey."
The word barely registered over the thrum of bass in your ears, muffled further by the steady hiss of rain against pavement. You blinked water from your lashes and turned your head just enough to see the guy next to you under the flickering bus stop light, dark hair plastered to his forehead, headphones dangling loose around his neck.
"You missed the last one," he said, nodding toward the empty street where the bus should’ve been. "They don’t run this late on Sundays. Learned that the hard way last month."
You tugged one earbud out. "Seriously?"
His laugh came out half-drowned by a passing cars.
"Seriously. Unless you're into midnight walks or taxi's that never run?" He shrugged, shoulders lifting under his soaked jacket. His sneakers were dirty and ruined.
You sighed, wiping rainwater from your phone screen before checking the ride-share app. "Two hour wait. And triple surge pricing." The digits blurred as another big drop hit your screen. "Guess I'm walking."
"Same," he said, shifting his weight from one ruined sneaker to the other. "Which way you headed?"
"Over by the old district," you said, glancing at the darkened storefronts across the street. The neon sign of a 24-hour diner buzzed faintly three blocks down.
"Oh shit, me too." he grinned, the light catching in his dimples. "Jisung, by the way."
You hesitated just long enough for Jisung to notice, his grin softening into something more careful. "Unless you'd rather not walk with a stranger," he said, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets. "Which, honestly, fair."
"I'd be an idiot to say no to some company in this weather and time of night," you admitted, nodding toward the diner's bright glow. "Don't try anything though weirdo."
Jisung laughed and fell into step beside you. "So what were you listening to back there?" he asked, flicking water from his headphones. "You looked properly zoned out."
"Ambient city sounds playlist," you admitted, stepping around a deep puddle that reflected neon. "Helps me pretend I’m in a movie when I’m just… buying toilet paper at the convenience store."
Jisung snorted, shaking his head like a wet dog. "That’s actually genius. Mine’s just podcasts about people arguing over whether aliens built the pyramids." He side-eyed you as you both reached the diner’s overhang, shaking water off your sleeves. "You seem like the type who’d have strong opinions about that."
The diner’s warmth hit you first, grease and coffee and the faint hum of a jukebox skipping Elvis mid-chorus. A waitress waved you toward a booth without looking up from her crossword. You slid in opposite Jisung, peeling your jacket off with a damp squelch.
Jisung peeled his own jacket off, grimacing as water dripped onto the cracked vinyl seat. "So," he said, shaking out his sleeves, "you never told me your name."
"Didn't I?" You pretended to think about it. The diner’s overhead light caught the raindrops still clinging to his eyelashes. "It’s—"
"Y/N," you said, watching as Jisung's fingers paused mid-air, headphones dangling from his grip. "Nice to meet you, Jisung."
He blinked, then grinned. "Y/N," he repeated. The jukebox hiccupped back to life behind him, as Jisung leaned forward, elbows on the sticky tabletop. "That suits you. Way better than 'random stranger at the bus stop' anyway."
The waitress appeared with two steaming mugs before either of you could speak again, sliding them across the table with practiced indifference. Jisung wrapped his hands around his mug immediately, sighing as the heat seeped into his rain-chilled fingers.
"So," he said, blowing gently across the surface of his coffee, "what were you doing out so late anyway? Not exactly prime bus-stop hours."
"Library," you said, tapping your nails against your own mug. The ceramic was chipped at the rim. "Lost track of time researching the most boring topic known to mankind."
Jisung raised an eyebrow, steam from his coffee curling around his face as he took a careful sip. "Okay, now you have to tell me. Nothing's more boring than the podcast episode I listened to last week about the history of elevator music."
You laughed, stirring your coffee absently. "Supernatural sightings."
Jisung choked on his coffee, coughing into his sleeve before grinning at you with renewed interest. "No fucking way. Like ghosts? Demons? Don’t tell me you were researching aliens—"
"Urban legends," you clarified, watching as he wiped coffee off his chin with the back of his hand. "Specifically, the ones tied to locations. Like bridges where people swear they’ve seen a woman in white, or abandoned hospitals with shadow figures in the windows when no one’s inside," you finished, watching Jisung's fingers tighten around his mug. His grin had sharpened, eyes alight with the kind of focus people usually reserved for spotting their ex across a crowded room.
"Okay, but you have to know about the one tied to the old district," he said, leaning in far enough that you could smell the rain still clinging to his hoodie. "The laundromat next to the boarded-up movie theatre? People say if you put your ear against the wall at midnight, you can hear the sound of coins dropping into the dryer," Jisung whispered, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush before cracking into laughter.
You kicked his shin under the table, grinning when his coffee sloshed over the rim. "Dick. And here I thought you were gonna say something actually creepy."
Jisung wiped the spilled coffee with a napkin, still grinning like he'd won something.
"What, you wanted ghosts? Fine." He leaned in, lowering his voice as the diner's fluorescent lights flickered overhead, probably just faulty wiring, but the timing was perfect. "Three years ago, some college kid swore he saw a woman in a red dress standing in the alley behind the hardware store. Just… standing there. No footsteps. No sound when she turned to look at him."
You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress a shiver, mostly from the damp clothes clinging to your back. "And then what? She vanished into a cloud of bats?"
Jisung's grin widened, his fingers drumming against the chipped mug. "Nah, worse," he said, eyes gleaming under the diner's flickering lights. "She smiled at him, with all her teeth showing, and then walked straight through the brick wall like it was mist." He paused for effect, watching your reaction with undisguised delight. "Kid dropped his burrito and ran so fast he left his shoes in the alley. They found them the next morning, perfectly lined up, laces untied."
You snorted, but your fingers tightened around your coffee mug. "Bullshit. If that was true, it'd be all over the local news."
Jisung leaned back in the booth, stretching his arms behind his head with a satisfied smirk. "Local news? Nah, they buried it. Too weird, even for them." He flicked a sugar packet across the table at you. "But ask any of the old-timers who drink at the bar across from that alley. They'll tell you the same story."
The sugar packet hit your fingers with a soft flick. You caught it before it could slide off the table, turning it over in your hands like it might hold some hidden answer. "You're telling me," you said slowly, tearing the corner with deliberate precision, "that this town has a ghost who walks through walls?"
Jisung shrugged, watching the sugar pour into your coffee in a slow stream. "Wouldn't be the weirdest thing around here." His voice dropped, conspiratorial.
"You ever notice how the streetlights on Maple always flicker right at midnight? Or how the stray cats all freeze at the same time, like they're hearing something humans can't?"
"You're not wrong," you muttered, stirring your coffee just to watch the sugar swirl into the blackness. "This town's always been dodgy as hell. Remember when they found those tunnels under the old elementary school? And the mayor just—" you mimed zipping your lips "—said it was 'historical plumbing' and called it a day?"
Jisung's laugh was sharp, surprised. "Holy shit, yes. And then the local paper ran that piece about 'quaint small-town mysteries' like they hadn't found literal shackles down there." He tapped his fingers against the mug in a restless rhythm, rain still dripping from his hair onto the table. "My theory? serial killer hideout."
You laughed as the waitress came over with menus, her nails chipped pink and smelling faintly of bleach. She dropped them onto the table with a practiced thud, barely glancing up from her crossword puzzle. "Special's meatloaf," she mumbled. "But I wouldn't."
Jisung flipped the menu open with exaggerated reverence. "Ah, the sacred texts," he intoned, squinting at the grease-smudged laminate.
The menu was laminated yellowed with age, edges curled from decades of grease-stained fingers flipping through its pages. A coffee ring from 2003 stained the dessert section. You traced a finger over the smudged text, squinting at what might’ve been "chili" or possibly "child" under the Specials column.
"Can I get pancakes?" you asked, smiling at Jisung over the rim of your coffee mug as the waitress lingered with her notepad poised.
Jisung's eyes lit up like you'd just proposed a heist. "Fuck yes, pancakes," he said, slapping his menu shut with finality. "But only if we get the kind with chocolate chips and whipped cream."
"Yum," you declared with mock solemnity, sliding the menus back toward the waitress before she could disappear again. Jisung nodded like you'd just sworn a blood oath, pushing his own menu across the table with the gravity of a general surrendering his sword. "Chocolate chip pancakes," you announced. "Extra whipped cream. And—" you shot Jisung a sidelong glance, "—4 sides of bacon. For balance."
"Mind sharing?" Jisung asked, nudging your hand across the table gently. His grin was lopsided, rainwater still dripping from his bangs onto the table. "We only met like ten minutes ago. Lol. It's okay if not." The way he said "lol" out loud, like it was an actual word, made you snort into your coffee.
"Nah, it's fine," you said, nudging the plate of pancakes that just arrived toward the center of the table with your elbow. "We can share the deliciousness together." The words came out more sincere than you'd intended, something about the way Jisung's eyes lit up at the sight of whipped cream made it impossible to deny him.
Jisung wasted no time, dragging a syrup-drenched triangle toward himself with the edge of his fork. "Bless you," he said, voice muffled by a mouthful of pancake. "This is officially the best bus-stop stranger decision I've ever made." A dollop of whipped cream clung to the corner of his mouth as he chewed, and you pointedly ignored the urge to reach across the table and wipe it away with your thumb.
You took a bite just as Jisung gestured wildly with his fork, syrup splattering across his cheek. "Shit," he hissed, dropping his fork to swipe at his face with a crumpled napkin. "Guess I'm wearing my dessert now."
The pancake was somehow both fluffy and slightly crispy at the edges, the chocolate chips melted into perfect pockets of sweetness. You chewed slowly, watching as Jisung scrubbed at his cheek with increasing desperation, only succeeding in smearing the syrup further. "Hold still," you said, snagging a clean napkin from the dispenser and leaning halfway across the table. Jisung froze, his breath hitching as you dabbed at his skin,closer than either of you had been all night, close enough to count the raindrops still clinging to his cheek.
"Shit, this is really good," you said, pulling back with the syrup-stained napkin still pinched between your fingers. Jisung blinked, once, twice—before his grin returned, slower this time, like he was recalibrating after the unexpected closeness.
"Told you," Jisung said, voice lower than before, fingers drumming against his coffee mug. "Best accidental diner decision of my life." He dragged another forkful of pancake.
Jisung’s grin widened as he leaned forward, elbows planted on the diner table. "So, Y/N," he said, "tell me more about yourself."
The overhead light buzzed, casting his face in flickering gold, and you noticed his dimples had a way of lingering even after his smile relaxed.
You swirled your fork in the whipped cream, considering. "What do you wanna know? My blood type? My third-grade teacher’s name? There's not much to say apart from me not being able to read bus times."
"Anything and everything." Jisung smiled shrugging.
"Twenty-two," you said, stabbing a forkful of pancake. "And I like super natural stuff, obviously, and losing at Mario Kart." The whipped cream dissolved on your tongue, sweet and slightly synthetic. "Also, reading and playing the drums.
Jisung snorted, syrup dripping off his fork onto the table. "Twenty-three. And same, but replace Mario Kart with getting kicked out of karaoke bars for 'too much enthusiasm.'" He air-quoted the last part.
Jisung’s grin faltered for half a second, just long enough for you to notice the way his fingers tightened around his fork. "Shit, that reminds me," he said, knocking his knee against the guitar case wedged between the booth and his rain-soaked jacket. "I was supposed to be at band practice tonight. Completely forgot."
You laughed, nodding at the scuffed black case. "Explains the guitar you've been hauling around."
Shifting your eyes, you looked at his guitar case, scuffed black and covered in so many peeling band stickers it was practically its own punk rock mosaic. The remnants of a hundred shows clung to its surface like battle scars, some so old they'd faded into ghostly outlines of logos you half-recognized. One corner was duct-taped together.
"That's seen some shit," you said, tapping your fork against a particularly gnarly sticker, some death metal band with a font so illegible.
Jisung laughed, the kind of full-bodied, snort-included laugh that made the elderly couple in the next booth shoot him a disapproving look. His fingers flew to his mouth too late, as he tried and failed to smother the sound. "Seen some shit?" he repeated, voice pitching higher with amusement. He nudged the guitar case with his knee, sending it tipping sideways against the booth with a thunk. "This bad boy's survived eight mosh pits, a basement flood, and one very pissed-off ex-girlfriend who tried to set it on fire."
You raised an eyebrow, and Jisung's grin turned sheepish as he fixed it with a practiced shove of his hip. "Okay, two ex-girlfriends," he admitted, picking at the duct tape with peeling nail polish. "But in my defense, the second one was totally justified, I did accidentally use her limited-edition Sailor Moon vinyl as a pizza tray."
"Understandable," you nodded, grinning as you swiped a finger through the whipped cream on your plate. "Limited-edition Sailor Moon vinyls are sacred. You're lucky she didn't use your face as a pizza tray."
Jisung clutched his chest dramatically. "She considered it. Left the pizza cutter on my pillow for a week as a warning." He leaned in conspiratorially, the diner light catching the wild glint in his eyes. "Turns out she was just bluffing though, found out later she cried when she stepped on a cockroach. No way she could’ve gone through with dismemberment."
"You never know," you said with a shrug, swirling your fork through the whipped cream remnants on your plate. "First step toward accidental murder is squishing bugs without remorse. Next thing you know, you're hiding bodies under the floorboards."
Jisung laughed again shaking his head. "Nah, see, that's where you're wrong," he countered, leaning in close enough that you could smell the rain still clinging to his hoodie, damp cotton and something faintly strawberry from his shampoo.
"The true first step is developing strong opinions about which way the toilet paper roll should face. That's when the homicidal urges kick in."
You laughed so hard your ribs ached, clutching your side as Jisung's grin widened. He looked absurdly pleased with himself. The elderly couple in the next booth sighed loudly, gathering their coats with theatrical disapproval.
"Shh," Jisung stage-whispered, pressing a finger to his own lips.
"You're gonna get us kicked out of this fine establishment." His attempt at solemnity lasted exactly two seconds before he dissolved into muffled giggles, shoulders shaking as he ducked his head. His hair still damp from the rain, flopped over his forehead, and you had the sudden, ridiculous urge to push it back.
You leave some cash on the table. As Jisung tries to dispute, he fails as you grab his hands.
Jisung blushes and then cleares his throat, "I'm suddenly very thirsty, you?" His fingers tapped a nervous rhythm against his mug, the ceramic clinking softly. The flush creeping up his neck had nothing to do with the diner's stifling heat, you could tell by the way his gaze flicked to your lips, then away, like he'd been caught doing something.
"Parched," you admitted, nudging your empty coffee cup.
"Convenience store run?" Jisung asked, already sliding out of the booth with the reckless energy of a man who'd just mainlined three cups of diner coffee. You nodded, grinning as he nearly tripped over his own guitar case, his sneaker squeaking against the floor.
The rain had slowed to a drizzle by the time you shouldered open the diner door, the neon "OPEN" sign flickering above you. Jisung bumped into you from behind, not on purpose, you think. His breath soft against your ear as he mumbled an apology. The sidewalk shimmered with oily puddles reflecting the convenience store's fluorescent glow two doors down.
The convenience store's automatic doors wheezed open with all the enthusiasm of a dying asthmatic, flooding the sidewalk with sterile white light. Jisung hesitated just outside, his sneakers squeaking against the wet pavement as he glanced up.
"Last time I came here," he said, nudging your elbow with his damp sleeve, "the cashier tried to sell me an energy drink that expired in 2017."
Inside, the store smelled like stale nacho cheese and industrial cleaner, the kind of aggressively artificial scent that made your nose hairs revolt. A single fluorescent light buzzed ominously above the snack aisle, casting Jisung's face in flickering shadows as he beelined for the drink coolers. His reflection warped in the glass as he bent down, the guitar case bumping against his calves.
You knelt down beside Jisung, the convenience store's grimy floor pressing cold against your bare knees as you scanned the bottom shelf of drinks. The hem of your skirt rode up higher than intended, but the absurdity of worrying about modesty at 1 AM in a fluorescent-lit purgatory made you snort. Jisung's reflection in the glass door did a comedic double-take, eyes flickering downward for half a second before snapping back up to your face with impressive speed.
"Uh," he said quietly, fingers tapping a restless rhythm against his thighs. The cooler hummed between you, vibrating through the glass as you plucked out a can of some obscenely purple energy drink.
"That one's got enough caffeine to kill a small horse," he blurted, reaching past you to grab a peach iced tea instead. His forearm brushed your shoulder, warm despite the rain still clinging to his jacket, and you caught the way his breath hitched when you didn't immediately pull away.
"Maybe I should get something less life-threatening," you giggled, taking the peach tea from Jisung's fingers and tossing the purple death-drink back onto the shelf. It landed with a clatter that made the cashier, a pimpled teenager scrolling through TikTok, glare in your direction.
Jisung grinned, nudging your shoulder with his as he straightened up. "Wise choice. Unless you want your heart to explode at 3 AM while watching conspiracy videos about lizard people." He grabbed a second tea, holding it up like a toast. "To not dying before sunrise."
You bowed dramatically toward Jisung, just as the cashier sighed and punched the total into the ancient register.
Jisung's hand shot out faster than you could blink, his damp sleeve brushing your wrist as he slapped a crumpled bill onto the counter. "Keep the change," he told the cashier, whose expression suggested he'd rather be anywhere else. The register dinged open with a sound like a dying robot, and Jisung snatched both iced teas before you could react, holding them just out of reach.
"Damn… thank you Jisung," you said, watching him juggle the iced teas with the kind of reckless confidence that suggested he definitely was not a professional.
Outside, the rain had tapered off to a misty haze, the streetlights casting everything in a fuzzy halo. Jisung handed you the peach tea, his fingers brushing yours just long enough for you to register how warm they were despite the night chill. "Don't mention it," he said, cracking open his own can with a fizz that echoed off the empty street. "Consider it payment for not letting me walk home alone like some sad, guitar-carrying cliché."
You snorted and smiled at him, shaking your head as he took an exaggerated sip of his iced tea, his throat working as he swallowed, then immediately grimaced at the sweetness. "Tastes like liquid candy," he complained, sticking out his tongue like a kid forced to take medicine.
"Should've gotten the purple death-drink then," you teased, nudging his shoulder with yours as you both walked down the empty street. Jisung's guitar case bumped against his leg with every other step, the sound rhythmic against the quiet hum of the city at this hour, distant car engines, the occasional drip of rainwater from a fire escape.
The alley stretched between the hardware store and a boarded-up laundromat, its entrance partially blocked by a dented dumpster oozing something unidentifiable. Jisung stopped so abruptly you nearly walked into him, his sneakers squeaking against wet pavement as he pointed with his iced tea can. "There it is. The infamous Burrito Ghost Alley."
You squinted into the darkness, the single flickering streetlight did little to illuminate the narrow passageway, casting more shadows than light. "Looks like every other sketchy alley in this town," you said smirking.
Jisung smirked back as you walked past it, seeing shoes, two battered sneakers, perfectly parallel, laces untied, sitting neatly against the alley wall like someone had just stepped out of them and vanished into thin air. You froze mid-step, your own sneaker hovering over a rain-slicked puddle. The alley exhaled a damp breath of mildew and old brick as Jisung's grin widened in the dim light.
"No fucking way," you whispered, but your pulse kicked up anyway, thudding in your ears louder than the distant drip of rainwater from a fire escape. The sneakers were scuffed at the toes, soles worn thin, real shoes, not props.
"Jisung—" you whined, laughter pitching high with nerves as you nudged closer to him, shoulder pressing into the damp fabric of his jacket. The alley seemed to exhale a colder breath just then, ruffling the hair at your nape.
Jisung’s grin faltered for half a second, just long enough for you to notice the way his fingers tightened around his iced tea can. The aluminum dented with a soft crunch.
"Okay, hear me out," he said, voice dropping to a stage whisper as he stepped forward, guitar case bumping against his thigh. "Maybe… someone just really loved this alley and left an offering."
You nudged Jisung hard enough that his iced tea sloshed. "Bullshit," you laughed, rolling your eyes so hard you nearly saw your own brain.
The bang echoed off the alley walls like a gunshot, sharp, sudden, and way too close. You didn’t even think. Your hand shot out and grabbed Jisung’s wrist at the same moment his fingers closed around your elbow, and then you were running, sneakers slapping against wet pavement in perfect, panicked sync. His guitar case slammed against his hip with every stride, the sound lost under the rush of blood in your ears.
You didn’t look back. Couldn’t. The alley blurred around you.
The raccoon emerged from the dumpster one paw clutching a half-eaten burrito. It blinked at you both as you ran further down the block.
"Fuckfuckfuck—" Jisung wheezed, his grip on your arm tightening as you skidded around a corner, nearly losing your balance on the slick pavement. His hoodie sleeve was soaked through where you were clutching it, rain and sweat making the fabric slide under your fingers.
You didn’t stop until you’d put two blocks between you and the alley, collapsing against a bus stop bench with your lungs on fire. Jisung doubled over beside you, his guitar case hitting the pavement with a thunk that would’ve made you wince if you weren’t busy trying not to puke.
It took three heaving breaths before Jisung managed to wheeze out a laugh, thin and high with leftover adrenaline. "Holy shit," he gasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His knees buckled, sending him collapsing onto the bus stop bench beside you with all the grace of a marionette with cut strings.
You were still clutching his hand. Your fingers had locked around his pulse point, knuckles white under the streetlight's glow. Jisung didn't pull away. His skin was fever-warm against yours, his heartbeat rabbiting under your thumb at the same frantic tempo as your own.
The realization hit you both at the same moment, fingers still tangled together, palms pressed flush like you'd been holding hands your whole lives instead of just the last ninety seconds of blind panic. Jisung's pulse jumped under your thumb, a wild beat that matched your own. Neither of you moved. The streetlight above flickered, casting his blush as he stared down at your joined hands.
"Uh," Jisung said intelligently. His fingers twitched but didn't pull away, his thumb brushing accidentally-on-purpose against your knuckle. A raindrop slid off his hairline and down his temple, tracing the sharp line of his jaw before disappearing under the collar of his damp hoodie.
"That was so fucking scary.." you breathed out a laugh, sharp and punched-out. Jisung's fingers flexed around yours, warm despite the chill clinging to both your clothes. The streetlight above flickered again, throwing his face into relief, eyes wide, lips parted.
"You okay?" Jisung rasped, thumb tracing circles over your knuckles without seeming to realize he was doing it. His guitar case lay abandoned at his feet, the scuffed black surface reflecting the streetlight's sickly glow.
"mhm, you?" you ask, smiling as you finally catch your breath. Your fingers are still tangled with Jisung's, sticky from spilled iced tea and trembling slightly from adrenaline.
Jisung exhales a laugh that’s more air than sound, his thumb still tracing absent circles over your knuckles. "Never better," he lies, voice cracking on the last syllable. His free hand wipes at his damp forehead, pushing back hair that flops stubbornly into his eyes again. "Just—uh. Really enjoying this impromptu cardio."
"Bro, why did you have to tell me that stupid story?" you groaned, laughing so hard your ribs ached as you finally loosened your death-grip on Jisung's hand, though neither of you made any actual move to untangle your fingers. His palm was warm despite the rain, callouses scraping against your skin in a way that made your pulse stutter.
Jisung's grin was pure chaos in the streetlight, his free hand gesturing wildly as a fresh droplet slid off his nose. "Because!" He wheezed, nearly choking on his own laughter.
"Now whenever you walk past that alley—" Jisung gasped between laughter, nearly slipping off the bench as he clutched his chest, "—you'll always remember me!" His grin was brighter than the flickering streetlight, teeth flashing in the dim glow like he'd just won something. The rainwater dripped from his hair as he shook his head, sending droplets everywhere.
You groaned, tipping your head back against the bus stop shelter with a thunk. "You're the worst," you lied, squeezing his fingers just to feel him jolt.
The bench creaked under Jisung’s weight as he leaned into you, shoulder pressing damp fabric against yours. "Admit it," he murmured, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that sent an unnecessary shiver down your spine. "You’re gonna miss me when we get to your stop." His thumb, still tracing idle patterns over your knuckles, paused, as if waiting for your answer.
You pretended to consider this, tilting your head just enough to catch the way his eyes flickered to your mouth when you bit your lip. "Nah," you said smirking.
"This view is nice," you mumbled, stretching your legs out as the bench groaned under both your weights. The river stretched before you, black and silver under the lights, its surface rippling with the occasional raindrop that still fell from the sky.
Jisung's head turned slowly to follow your gaze, his damp hair brushing your temple as he leaned in. "Yeah," he said, voice softer than you'd ever heard it. His thumb still hooked loosely around yours. "Better with company."
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable. It settled over you warm despite the chill, thick with all the things neither of you were saying. Jisung's sneaker nudged yours under the bench, the scuffed toe of his Converse knocking against your ankle like a question.
You fumbled with your bag, the damp fabric sticking to your fingers as you scrambled for the reusable straw you knew you'd shoved in there last week.
Jisung stared dumbfounded with a loving look in his eye, the kind of gaze that made your straw-fumbling fingers freeze mid-motion. His pupils were blown wide from the adrenaline. You watched his throat work as he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing against the damp collar of his hoodie. The moment stretched like taffy, impossibly long, until your straw finally emerged with a victorious pop.
"You," Jisung said slowly, voice rough, "are ridiculous." His thumb, still hooked around your pinky, brushed your knuckle again, this time deliberate.
You smiled as you popped the straw into your iced tea. The sound snapped Jisung out of whatever trance he'd been in, his gaze jerking up from your mouth to the straw now bobbing in your drink.
Jisung's chipped black nails curled around his iced tea with surprising delicacy. He took a long sip, throat working as he swallowed, then exhaled through his nose.
The straw made a hollow thunk as you sipped the last of your peach tea, the sound obscenely loud in the quiet between you. Across the river, a single lit window flickered out, someone turning in for the night. Jisung's fingers twitched against yours where they still rested on the damp bench, his pinky curling tighter around yours like he was afraid you'd float away if he let go.
Jisung shifted beside you, his sneaker knocking into yours again, and you could feel the exact moment he decided to say something stupid.
"Did you know," Jisung said suddenly, kicking a pebble into the river with a wet plunk, "this water once froze so solid in 1947 that people drove trucks across it?" His voice took on that particular cadence it did when he was about to spin something ridiculous, half-fact, half-bullshit, entirely entertaining.
You snorted, watching the ripples spread across the inky surface. "Bullshit. That can't be real."
Jisung smirked. "It is," he promised, fingers tightening around yours as he kicked another pebble into the water. "I promise.
You arched an eyebrow, watching his reflection warp in the ripples.
"You're an odd guy, Jisung," you said, smiling up at him as another raindrop slid off the edge of the bus shelter and landed squarely on his nose. He wrinkled his face in a way that made his nose ring glint under the streetlight.
Jisung's grin widened impossibly, his fingers, still laced with yours, twitching as he kicked another pebble into the river.
"Hey Jisung, do you believe in fate?" you ask quietly letting your mouth talk before it catches up with your brain.
Jisung's fingers stilled against yours, his thumb pausing mid-circle over your knuckle. He exhaled through his nose, a soft sound.
"Fate," he repeated. "You mean like… predestined encounters? Cosmic significance in fucked up alley ways?" His voice was light, but when you glanced sideways, his profile was uncharacteristically serious, jaw tight, lower lip caught between his teeth.
"Hmm," Jisung echoed, voice softer now as he tilted his head to study you, the way his gaze lingered on your mouth made your pulse stutter. "Guess so," he murmured, more to himself than to you, his thumb resuming its absent circles over your knuckle. The streetlight above flickered again, plunging his face into shadow just long enough for you to miss the warmth of his gaze.
Jisung cleared his throat first, shifting on the bench so his knee knocked against yours. "So," he started, uncharacteristically hesitant, "if this is fate…" He gestured vaguely between you with his free hand. "Does that mean I get to keep you?"
The sentence caught you off guard. You coughed violently, pressing the back of your hand to your lips as Jisung's words ricocheted around your skull. Keep you. Like you were a stray kitten he'd found in a rainstorm. Like this wasn't just some bizarre midnight encounter with a rain-stained stranger.
Your laughter came out half-strangled. "Wow," you giggled, swiping at your watering eyes with the hem of your sleeve. "That might be the cheesiest thing anyone's ever said to me at a bus stop." You suddenly got cut off as a bus pulled up.
The bus's brakes hissed like a sleeping dragon startled awake, a sound so sudden and loud that Jisung's knee jerked into yours hard. His fingers tightened reflexively as the bus doors wheezed open. The vehicle was nearly empty, its interior lit by flickering fluorescent tubes that made the lone passenger, an elderly man with a newspaper, look like a washed-out ghost.
Jisung's smirk took three full seconds to materialize, his lips quirking first in surprise, then disbelief, before settling into that lopsided grin you were starting to memorize. "Well," he drawled, thumb brushing your knuckle again in a way that felt deliberate now, "looks like buses do run at this time."
You fumbled with your wallet, fingers slipping on damp bills as the bus driver, a woman with purple-streaked hair and a glare that could curdle milk, tapped her fingernails against the bus. Jisung lurched forward before you could react, slapping down a crumpled five-dollar bill with the same reckless energy he did everything else. "Keep the change," he announced again, grinning when the driver sighed and rolled her eyes.
The bus smelled like disinfectant. Jisung's guitar case clipped the edge of a seat as he staggered down the aisle, still off-balance from adrenaline and peach tea, before collapsing into the very back row with a huff. You slid in beside him, knees knocking together as the bus jerked forward with a groan.
The bus shuddered into motion like a reluctant beast, its diesel engine groaning as streetlights began sliding past the rain-streaked windows in amber streaks. Jisung's knee bounced against yours with each pothole, his guitar case wedged awkwardly between his calves as the city blurred into a watercolor smear of neon and shadow. Outside, the river dissolved into the night—its surface fracturing the reflections of apartment windows into liquid constellations that rippled and died as the bus picked up speed.
Jisung exhaled through his nose, a quiet laugh escaping as he tilted his head toward the window. "Look," he murmured, knuckles brushing yours where they rested on the seat between you. A lone sneaker, identical to the abandoned pair in the alley, hung by its laces from a telephone wire, swaying gently in the damp breeze like some wind chimes.
"Every time I see stupid shoes, I'm gonna think of you," you said, laughing as the bus lurched over a pothole, sending Jisung's elbow jamming into you. His grin widened.
"Good," he declared enthusiastically, His fingers still warm where they brushed yours on the vinyl seat, twitched like he wanted to reach for something more.
"That means you'll never forget me. Even when you're eighty and complaining about kids these days leaving perfectly good footwear on power lines."
You smile warmly at him, pressing closer as the bus's fluorescent lights flicker overhead. "Hey," you whisper, nodding toward the elderly man with the newspaper three rows ahead. His pages haven't turned in minutes. "Do you think that guy's a ghost?"
Jisung's fingers tighten around yours instantly, as he leans in, his breath ghosting over your ear. "Obviously," he murmurs, voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush. "Real people don't read the obituaries that intently." The newspaper rustles abruptly as if on cue, making you both jump. Jisung's knee knocks into yours hard enough to bruise.
The newspaper rustled again, this time with unnatural force and Jisung's grip on your hand shivers. "Okay, new plan," he whispered, breath warm against your temple as the bus shuddered around another corner. "If that guy turns around and his eyes are black voids, we're jumping out at the next stop."
You snorted, flexing your fingers in his grasp. "Drama queen," you muttered, but didn't pull away.
"Hey, Y/N?" Jisung's voice cut through the bus's ambient hum, his fingers still loosely tangled with yours on the seat. His thumb traced an absent circle over your knuckle, warm and rough with guitar calluses. "You play drums, right?"
The question caught you mid-breath, your pulse stuttering at the sudden shift in topic. Outside, streetlights flickered past in strobe-like intervals, casting Jisung's face in alternating gold and shadow.
"Mhm." you nodded. "We should start a band," you said, deadpan, just to watch Jisung's face light up like someone had flipped a switch behind his eyes.
His grin split wide. "Obviously," he declared, kicking his guitar case for emphasis. The hollow thunk echoed through the near-empty bus.
The bus hit another pothole, sending Jisung's shoulder slamming into yours with enough force to knock the air from your lungs. His laughter spilled warm against your neck, equal parts startled and delighted, as you both scrambled to right yourselves, fingers still stubbornly intertwined. Outside, the city blurred into streaks of neon and shadow.
"Shit—my stop's coming up," you mumbled.
Jisung's knee stopped bouncing instantly. His fingers tightened for half a second before going slack. "Already?" he asked, voice cracking on the second syllable. The bus's brakes hissed in anticipation, the sound making his guitar case slide forward to bump against your ankles.
The bus hissed as it stopped, doors groaning open like an old man stretching after a nap. Jisung was already halfway out of his seat before the vehicle fully settled as he lurched toward the exit. "I'll walk you to your door," he announced, voice oddly firm despite the way his fingers fumbled with his hoodie strings.
You blinked up at him, still seated. "What about your stop?" you asked, nodding toward the digital display flashing the next destination, five stops past yours. Raindrops streaked the windows behind him. "How are you getting home?"
Jisung's fingers closed around yours again before your sneakers even hit the pavement, his grip warm. "Come on," he grinned, already tugging you toward the sidewalk with reckless momentum. The bus doors wheezed shut behind you, its taillights painting the wet asphalt in temporary red before it drives away into the night.
"You're gonna walk five stops back in the rain?" you laughed, nearly tripping over a uneven crack in the sidewalk as Jisung's enthusiasm outpaced coordination. His hoodie sleeve brushed your wrist as he adjusted his grip to lace your fingers together properly.
Jisung's grin was all teeth, his fingers squeezing yours as he swung your joined hands between you like a pendulum.
"Yup, I wanna walk you home," he declared, as if this was the most obvious decision in the world. His guitar case thumped against his thigh with every other step, the rhythm syncopated by his ruined sneakers splashing through puddles with deliberate recklessness. "Five stops, thirty stops, what's the difference when you've already seen me embarrass myself?"
You laughed, shaking your head. "You're insane," you muttered, but didn't pull away when he tugged you closer to avoid a puddle.
✧( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )✧
The porch light buzzed like an angry hornet overhead, flickering twice before settling into a sickly yellow glow. Your keys jingled, too loud in the thick silence between you, as you fumbled with the lock, acutely aware of how close he stood at your shoulder, his breath warm against your damp collar.
"Home sweet home," Jisung murmured, rocking back on his heels with a wet squelch of ruined sneakers. His guitar case bumped against the doorframe with a hollow thunk. "Unless this is also secretly a murder house? Wouldn't even be surprised at this point."
The keys slipped in your rain-slick fingers for the third time, metal clattering against the lock in a way that made Jisung's shoulders shake with silent laughter behind you. When you finally turned, cheeks warm despite the chill, his face was closer than expected, raindrops clinging to his eyelashes like shattered glass.
"Want to come in, Jisung?" The words tumbled out half-teasing, half-serious, your voice dipping low enough that the rain nearly swallowed it whole. Your own brain short-circuited in real time as you swallowed hard.
Jisung muttered something unintelligible before leaning even closer, so close you could count the raindrops caught in his eyelashes. He braced one hand against the doorframe above your head, the other still clutching yours like he'd forgotten how to let go.
"Bad idea," he breathed, but his thumb was already stroking your hair. The porch light chose that moment to flicker violently, casting his face in stuttering shadows that did nothing to hide the way his gaze dropped to your mouth.
"If this is weird I'm sorry," Jisung breathed, the words barely audible over the rain pattering against your porch roof. His breath hitched as he bit his lower lip, a nervous tic you'd noticed hours ago at the diner, and for one suspended heartbeat, the world narrowed to the damp warmth of his fingers tightening around yours, the faint tremble in his grip betraying his actions. Then he leaned in, and every coherent thought evaporated.
His lips were cooler than you expected, pressing against yours with hesitant precision, like he'd mapped out the angle in his head during the bus ride. The kiss lasted three frantic heartbeats before Jisung jerked back, eyes wide as if startled by his own audacity. A droplet slid from his hairline down his temple, tracing the same path his gaze took as it flickered between your eyes and mouth.
Jisung's mouth kept moving, words tumbling out in a jumbled, breathless rush, but all you heard was the frantic hammering of your own pulse. His lips were still parted mid-sentence, rainwater clinging to them in a way that made your stomach swoop. You didn't let him finish. Fingers tightening in the damp fabric of his hoodie, you yanked him forward until his startled exhale warmed your lips a second before you slotted them against his properly.
He made a sound, half gasp, half laugh. His hands fluttered uselessly for a heartbeat before settling on your waist, thumbs pressing into the dip above your hips with enough pressure to leave phantom bruises. The kiss tasted sweet but needy, Jisung's teeth clipping your lower lip when he surged forward to kiss you back with clumsy enthusiasm.
The porch light flickered out entirely, just died as Jisung's teeth caught your lower lip again, his hands sliding up your ribs like he was trying to remember your body with precision. You stumbled backward through the doorway, dragging him with you by the fabric of his hoodie, his guitar case scraping against the threshold before toppling sideways with a hollow thud neither of you acknowledged. Rainwater dripped from his hair onto your cheeks as he crowded you against the entryway wall, his knee slotting between yours with unnerving precision despite the way his fingers trembled where they cradled your jaw.
"Fuck," Jisung breathed against your mouth when you bit down on his bottom lip, his hips jerking forward instinctively. The movement sent his belt buckle scraping against your skirt a rough touch that made him groan low in his throat before swallowing your laughter. His hands dropped to your thighs, hiking them up around his waist with a grunt as he carried you further into the darkened apartment, his sneakers leaving wet footprints on the hardwood.
The door slammed shut behind you with a force that rattled the framed photos on the wall, some portrait tilting askew as Jisung's back hit it, his guitar case abandoned somewhere near the welcome mat. His hands were everywhere at once, clumsy with pent-up energy, fingers catching in your hair while his teeth grazed your lower lip in a way that made your knees buckle.
"Wait—" Jisung gasped when you bit down harder than intended, his hips jerking forward instinctively as his fingers tightened in your shirt. The motion sent you stumbling backward into the coat rack, sending jackets sliding to the floor in a heap of fabric and jangling hangers. He didn't let go, just pinned you there with his body, rainwater from his hoodie seeping through your clothes as his mouth found yours again with renewed urgency.
"Hm?" You blinked up at Jisung, dazed and half-convinced you'd hallucinated the last thirty seconds. His hoodie was soaked through, cold droplets splattering your cheeks as he hovered inches away—chest heaving, lips swollen, eyes blown wide like he'd just sprinted another two blocks instead of kissing you stupid against your own front door.
Jisung's fingers flexed against your hips where he'd grabbed you, like he couldn't decide whether to pull you closer or push you away. His throat worked soundlessly, Adam's apple bobbing against the damp collar of his hoodie as rainwater dripped from his bangs onto your forehead.
"Uh," Jisung managed, voice cracking. His pupils swallowed the last traces of gold in his irises, leaving them dark and endless. "That was—"
"Insane?" you laugh breathlessly, still pinned between him and the wall. His knee pressed warm between your thighs, the denim rough against your skin.
"I don't usually intend to fuck the strangers I meet at bus stops," Jisung blurted, the words exploding out of him. His voice cracked spectacularly on "fuck,"
"I swear," he added weakly, hands fluttering near your hips like confused moths.
You laughed, couldn't help it, the sound bubbling up from your chest as Jisung's ears turned violent red. His expression morphed from dazed to mortified in real time, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish stranded on the countertop. "You think I do?"
Jisung laughed. His shoulders shook against you, rainwater scattering from his hair onto your cheeks as his forehead dropped to your collarbone. "No," he wheezed, fingers tightening in the damp fabric of your shirt. "But holy shit, I hope you do now." His teeth grazed your jaw when he grinned, the sharp edge catching just enough to make your breath hitch.
You could feel his pulse rabbiting where your palm pressed against his throat, the frantic rhythm syncing with yours as his laughter dissolved into uneven breathing. His hoodie smelled like fresh strawberries, the fabric clinging to your fingers when you tugged him closer.
"Idiot," you muttered, but the words lost all bite when Jisung's knee shifted between your thighs, the rough denim dragging against sensitive skin in a way that made your head tip back against the wall with a thud.
Jisung took advantage immediately, mouth hot against your exposed throat, his teeth scraping lightly over your pulse point before soothing the sting with his tongue. The contrast sent sparks skittering down your spine, your fingers tightening in his damp hair as he worked his way back up to your mouth with single-minded focus.
The hallway light flickered on with a click, some automatic sensor triggered by movement and Jisung froze mid-kiss, his lips still parted against yours, pupils blown wide in the sudden brightness. For a suspended moment, you could see every raindrop caught in his eyelashes, every shallow breath fogging the air between you. Then he smirked, slow and devastating.
"Motion-activated?" Jisung murmured, thumb brushing your lower lip where it was already swollen from his teeth. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, warm against your cheek. "Bet I can make it turn off again."
You giggled, "What the fuck does that even mean?" as the warm hallway lighting dimmed automatically, sensors responding to Jisung's exaggerated stillness by softening the glare to something moodier, like the universe itself was setting the scene.
"Fuck I don't know, means I've got skills," Jisung murmured, dragging his teeth along your jaw just to feel you shiver. His knee shifted between your thighs with purpose now, the denim seam rubbing in exactly the wrong-right way that made your breath hitch.
Jisung's sneakers hit the hardwood with twin thuds, skidding halfway across the entryway before colliding with a potted fern. You kicked your own shoes off blindly, one shoe catching on the doormat as Jisung's hands slid under your thighs, lifting you with a grunt that dissolved into laughter against your neck. The sudden movement sent you both staggering sideways, he pinned you against the hallway wall with his hips.
Rainwater dripped from his hair onto your forehead as he kissed you again, all teeth and clumsy enthusiasm, his fingers tangling in the hem of your shirt like he couldn't decide whether to push it up or tear it off.
Your whole body burned with a slow, insistent heat, the kind that had been simmering since Jisung first held your hand. Every accidental touch, every shared glance, every half-stifled laugh had stoked the fire until it threatened to consume you whole. You'd spent the entire night resisting the urge to kiss him senseless, and now, with his lips moving against yours in the dim hallway, you wondered why you'd waited so long.
Your fingers tangled in the damp fabric of Jisung's hoodie as you dragged him down the hallway, half stumbling, half giggling, past the living room.
Jisung's breath hitched when you backed him into your bedroom doorframe. His hands found your waist in the dimness, thumbs brushing the exposed strip of skin where your shirt had ridden up. "You're good at this," he murmured against your lips, voice rough.
"So are you," you laughed, fingers skating up the damp denim stretched over his thigh before brushing deliberately over the hardness beneath.
Jisung's breath punched out of him in a sharp gasp, his hips jerking forward instinctively as his fingers dug into your waist.
The groan that escaped him was low and ragged as his forehead dropped to your shoulder. "Fuck," he breathed. His jeans were still damp from the rain, the denim warm from his body heat but stiff enough that you could feel every twitch and pulse beneath your fingers.
Jisung's whine vibrated against your lips, high-pitched and desperate, as his hips stuttered forward involuntarily. His forehead knocked against yours when you bit down on his lower lip, too hard, judging by the way his breath hitched but instead of pulling away, he moaned into your mouth like you'd struck a nerve.
"No fucking way," you breathed against his swollen lips, fingers tightening in his hoodie.
Jisung's laugh cracked into a gasp when you bit down harder, his hips jerking forward with enough force to make the door rattle behind you. "No joke," he panted, forehead pressed to yours as his fingers trembled against your waist. "I could—" His breath hitched when you rolled your hips against his thigh. "Fuck, I could cum from just kissing you." The admission spilled out half-laughing, half-embarrassed.
You froze and felt the exact moment his whole body cringed at his own words. His ears burned against your cheek, pulse rabbiting where your lips brushed his throat. "That's…" You trailed off, biting back a grin when he groaned louder. "So cute.."
Jisung's breath stuttered when you grinned against his jaw your palm pressing firmer against the undeniable hardness straining against his damp jeans.
"Shitt," he hissed, hips bucking forward involuntarily as your thumb traced the prominent outline through denim. His forehead thunked against your shoulder when you squeezed lightly, the groan that escaped him dissolving into a shuddering exhale against your collarbone. "You're—" His voice cracked spectacularly, fingers scrambling for purchase on your hips as his knee slid higher between your thighs. "You're evil."
The bedroom door groaned as Jisung shouldered it open. Your laughter caught in your throat when he hoisted you up suddenly, hands gripping your thighs with surprising strength, and carried you the remaining few steps to the bed like you weighed nothing. His knee hit the mattress first, sending both of you tilting sideways in an uncoordinated heap of limbs and fabric.
Jisung's elbow jabbed your ribs as he scrambled to right himself, his hoodie sleeve still dripping rainwater onto your pillow. "Graceful," you teased, fingers curling into his soaked collar as he hovered above you, hair plastered to his forehead, lips kiss-swollen and glistening in the dim light filtering through the blinds.
"Cinnamon," Jisung murmured, nose scrunching as he inhaled deeply. "Your whole room smells like…cinnamon toast."
You snorted, yanking open the bedside drawer with more force than necessary. The wood screeched in protest as you looked for a condom packet. "Candles," you admitted, fingers closing around him just as Jisung's knee bumped the mattress.
Jisung's gaze flickered across your bedroom with the same restless energy he'd carried all night, half curious, half distracted by the way your fingers were still tangled in his hoodie. His pupils dilated in the low light, taking in the haphazard stacks of vinyl records on your dresser, the drumsticks scattered across your nightstand like abandoned chopsticks. "You're messy," he observed, voice husky as his thumb brushed the inside of your wrist where it gripped his sleeve.
A slow smirk spread across his face when he noticed the neon sticky notes plastered above your bed, lyric fragments and half-formed melodies scrawled in your rushed handwriting. One read simply "metronome vs heartbeat?" with the word heartbeat underlined three times. Jisung's laugh hitched when he spotted the crumpled coffee sweet wrappers spilling from your half-open desk drawer, the guitar pick collection taped to your mirror in the shape of a middle finger. "This is cute." he smiled warmly taking in everything.
"Don't look too closely," you muttered, pouting as Jisung's fingers trailed over the poorly-taped guitar picks on your mirror. His reflection grinned back at you—cheeks flushed, hair still dripping rainwater onto your carpet—as he deliberately leaned closer to examine your haphazard decor.
"Too late," Jisung sing-songed, tapping the sticky note that read 7am practice?? with a question mark so aggressively scribbled it had torn through the paper. His nose scrunched when he noticed the faint coffee ring stains on your nightstand, the chipped mug holding drumsticks instead of pens. "Oh my god, you're that kind of musician."
You rolled your eyes as Jisung plucked a drumstick from your chipped mug, spinning it between his fingers with exaggerated flourish. "What? I like to know where everything is," you huffed, snatching the stick back and pointing it at the sticky note-covered wall. "Organized chaos, they call it."
Jisung's smirk softened into something dangerously fond as he traced the neon tabs fluttering from your corkboard—each one color-coded, annotated, and arranged in some system only you understood. His fingers brushed over a particularly crumpled note that read "2am ideas - DON’T IGNORE" in all caps, the edges frayed from being ripped angrily out of a notebook. "Chaos, huh?" he murmured, thumb catching on the tape holding it in place.
"You're getting distracted," you huffed as he flopped backward onto your bed.
"Am not," Jisung lied through his teeth, grinning when you brandished the drumstick at him like a sword. His nose ring glinted as he rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one hand while the other traced the seam of your pillowcase. "Just appreciating the…ambiance." His fingers wandered to the half-peeled sticker on your headboard—some band logo from three years ago.
Jisung's teasing smirk faltered when you swung your leg over his hips, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his thighs. His breath hitched, audible in the sudden stillness, as you settled fully into his lap, the weight of you pressing him deeper into the mattress.
"You were saying?" you murmured, watching his throat bob when you shifted slightly, the friction drawing a bitten-off groan from between his teeth. His hands hovered awkwardly at your waist, fingers twitching like he couldn't decide whether to grip or retreat. Up close, you could see the exact moment his pupils dilated more and more.
Jisung's fingers dug into your hips as you rolled your hips against him slow, deliberate, the damp fabric of his jeans catching against your thighs in a way that made his breath stutter. "Fuck," he breathed, hands scrambling to grip your waist tighter as you rocked forward again.
The button on Jisung's jeans gave way with a stubborn click, your fingers slick with rainwater as you fumbled with the damp denim.
Jisung's thumbs traced the lace trim of your underwear through the skirt fabric. The rough pads of his fingers caught on every rucked-up pleat as he pushed the material higher, his breath stuttering when he finally skimmed bare skin. "You're—" His voice cracked, pupils black as his gaze flickered between your face and where his fingers disappeared under black lace. "Fuck, you're gonna kill me."
Jisung's breath stuttered when your lips found the sensitive spot beneath his ear, his pulse jumping against your tongue as you traced the curve of his jaw.
His hoodie hit the floor, followed by the muffled thud of his shirt being peeled off in one frantic motion. Lean muscles tensing beneath flushed skin as your fingertips skated up his ribs.
Your fingertips traced the ink first, following the winding vine tattoo that snaked up Jisung's ribs like ivy climbing a trellis. The design disappeared beneath the waistband of his briefs, only to emerge again further down, curling around the jut of his hipbone. When you hooked your fingers under the elastic, he made a sound, half gasp, half whine, as the end dipped lower until it disappeared into the thatch of dark hair below.
Jisung breathed out slowly, his stomach muscles twitching when you traced a particular bit just above his hip. His fingers tangled in your hair as you followed the ink lower. The design thickened as it descended, words overlapping in a way that made your mouth water when you realized it led exactly where you'd hoped.
Jisung's hands paused mid-exploration, his fingers twitching against your ribs when his thumbs accidentally brushed the stiff peaks pressing through your damp shirt accidently fallen out of your bra. His breath hitched audibly as you moaned, pupils dilating further as he deliberately dragged both palms upward to cup the weight of your breasts properly. The rough pads of his fingers found your nipples instantly through the thin fabric, circling with agonizing slowness as rainwater dripped from his bangs onto your collarbone.
"You're—" His voice cracked, the word dissolving into a shuddering exhale as he squeezed experimentally, thumbs rubbing tight little circles that made you arch into his touch. Jisung mouthed at the visible outline of your nipple through wet cotton with clumsy enthusiasm. The fabric clung obscenely where his tongue swiped over it, the material going sheer with saliva as he sucked lightly just enough to draw broken gasps from your lips.
The moan slipped out louder before you could stifle it, high-pitched and embarrassingly loud, as Jisung's fingers found your clit through the damp skirt fabric. His touch was electric, fingertips circling with just enough pressure to make your thighs tremble where they bracketed his hips. The rough pads of his fingers caught on the lace beneath your skirt, dragging the delicate material against your oversensitive clit with every deliberate rotation.
"Fuck, Jisung—" The words fragmented into a gasp when he increased the pressure, his other hand gripping your hipbone hard enough to leave fingerprints as he ground his own erection against your thigh. He watched you through half-lidded eyes, lips parted around uneven breaths that ghosted across your skin.
The damp fabric of your shirt peeled away with a sticky sound, clinging stubbornly to your shoulders before finally releasing into Jisung’s eager hands. Cool air hit your overheated skin as the shirt hit the floor somewhere near his abandoned hoodie, but you barely noticed, not when Jisung’s breath hitched audibly, his gaze dragging down your body. His fingers hovered just above your ribs, tracing the air like he was afraid to touch.
Jisung’s voice cracked, his Adam’s apple bobbing as rainwater dripped from his bangs onto your collarbone. His thumb finally brushed the delicate lace of your bra, following the scalloped edge. "You’re fucking unreal..so pretty"
You ran your hand through your damp hair and smiled, something slow and happy that made Jisung's breath break. His pupils dilated further when you dragged your fingers lower, deliberately skimming the rainwater still clinging to his ribs, following the tattoo until your nails scraped lightly over his hipbone.
"Christ," Jisung gasped when your thumb hooked into the waistband of his briefs, his hips jerking upward instinctively as you dragged the damp fabric down just enough to expose the dark trail of hair leading lower. His hands fluttered at your waist like panicked birds before settling with bruising pressure, fingertips digging into your skin as if he could fuse you together through sheer force.
Jisung's fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties with sudden urgency, his thumb slipping beneath the lace before you could blink, and then they were gone, skimming down your thighs in one swift motion that left you gasping against his collarbone. The fabric pooled around your ankles with a whisper, catching briefly before he moved it aside impatiently.
"Fuck, this—" His voice cracked as he fumbled with the clasp of your bra, his guitar-calloused fingers trembling against the delicate hooks. The strap snapped loose unexpectedly, the sudden release sending the garment sliding down your arms like rainwater off a roof. Jisung made a wounded noise in his throat when you shrugged it off completely, his gaze dragging over your bare chest trying to imprint it onto his brain.
He breathed. His Adam's apple bobbed violently when you arched your back just slightly, letting the overhead light catch the water dip between your breasts. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air between you.
"Are you nervous, Jisung?" you whispered against the shell of his ear, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just hard enough to make him shiver before sealing your lips over his in a slow, claiming kiss. His answering groan vibrated against your mouth, hands fluttering at your hips before finally settling with bruising pressure.
Jisung's laugh came out breathless when you pulled back just enough to see his face.
"Nervous?" he echoed, voice cracking halfway through the word as your fingers traced the prominent bulge straining against his damp briefs. His hips jerked upward instinctively, chasing the friction. "I'm fucking terrified," he admitted with a shaky grin, fingers tightening in the fabric of your skirt. "I-" His words dissolved into a gasp when you rolled your hips against his, the damp lace of your underwear catching on the fabric of his briefs in a way that made you both moan.
Jisung’s breath hitched when your fingers finally hooked into the waistband of his briefs, the elastic snapping against his hips as you dragged them down just enough to free him. His cock sprang free, hot and heavy against your palm, already leaking precum that smeared slick across your fingers. You couldn’t help the smirk that curled your lips, he was pretty, all flushed pink and twitching under your touch, his thighs tensing as you gave him one slow, teasing stroke from base to tip.
"Ah—" Jisung choked, his hips jerking off the mattress as your thumb swiped over the head, spreading the wetness there.
"You’re—ah—stop smiling," he whined, voice breaking as you tightened your grip slightly, watching his abs clench.
"I'm gonna ride you, Jisung," you said, smiling down at him innocently.
Jisung's exhaled nervously. His fingers spasmed against your thighs where they bracketed his hips. His lips parted, no sound came out, just a shaky exhale that fogged the air between you. The flush creeping up his neck deepened when you shifted your weight, the damp heat between your thighs pressing against the hard line of his cock.
The first inch slipped in with obscene ease, your body already slick and pulsing around him before either of you could catch your breath. Jisung made a sound like he'd been gutted, half gasp, half sob, as his hips jerked upward involuntarily, driving himself deeper before freezing. His fingers dug into your thighs hard enough to bruise.
"Fuck—fuck, you're so tight" Jisung's words dissolved into a whine pitched high in his throat when you rolled your hips experimentally, taking him deeper in one slow, deliberate grind.
His cock twitched inside you, the veins along its length pulsing against your walls as his breath came in ragged bursts. You watched his Adam's apple bob violently, his mouth hanging slack around syllables that never formed as you began to move.
Jisung’s cock was long and skinny, the kind that hit deeper than you expected when you finally bottomed out with a moan that dissolved into a gasp. His hips jerked up instinctively a ragged and uncontrolled thrust, before he froze, his entire body trembling beneath you like a guitar string. "Fuck—fuck, I can't—" His voice cracked.
The stretch burned deliciously, your walls fluttering around him as you adjusted as he stared up at you with blown pupils and slack lips.
"You good?" you murmured, shifting experimentally and watching his throat bob as he swallowed audibly.
"You're such a tease," Jisung huffed as he cradled your breasts with both hands, thumbs dragging slow circles over your nipples. His grin was all teeth when you squirmed, knowing exactly how the slightest touches there made your thighs tremble.
The first bounce was hesitant, an experimental roll of your hips that had Jisung's moaning, his fingers digging crescent moons into your thighs.
The second was deliberate, your body lifting almost entirely off him before sinking back down in one fluid motion that punched a deep groan from his lungs. By the third bounce, Jisung's head tipped back against your pillow with a thud, his throat working around silent curses as you set a ruthless pace, the wet slap of skin echoing off your bedroom walls.
Rainwater still dripped from Jisung's hair onto your pillows with every downward stroke, the cold droplets were a sharp contrast to the heat building between your joined bodies.
His hands scrambled, your waist, your hips, the headboard, before settling on your ass with a grip that bordered on painful.
Jisung’s fingers dug into the flesh of your ass hard as you rode him with relentless precision.
"Baby—slow down," he gasped, voice cracking on the last syllable as his hips stuttered beneath you. His cock twitched inside you, the veins along its length pulsing in time with his erratic heartbeat. "I'm gonna—fuck—I'm gonna cum in a minute—"
You laughed, low and breathless, deliberately rolling your hips in a slow, torturous circle that had him whining high in his throat.
"That’s the idea," you murmured against his parted lips, swallowing his groan as you picked up the pace again, the wet slap of skin echoing obscenely in the small room.
Jisung laughed, breathless, ragged, his forehead dropping against yours as his hips stuttered beneath you. The sound dissolved into a groan when you clenched around him deliberately, watching his eyelashes flutter. "Fuck, you're—" His fingers tightened on your hips as he rolled you both over in one fluid motion that left you gasping against the mattress.
The bedsprings creaked in protest as Jisung hovered over you, his knees bracketing your thighs, rainwater dripping from his hair onto your collarbone. He didn't give you time to adjust, just lined himself up and pushed back in with a single, brutal thrust that punched a ragged moan from your lungs.
His cock dragged against your walls, the stretch bordering on painful in the best way, his hips snapping forward with uncharacteristic aggression.
"You don’t listen, do you?" Jisung grinned, fingers digging into your thighs as he fucked into you with rough, snapping thrusts that knocked the breath from your lungs. The bedframe slammed against the wall in a rhythmic crash that would’ve been concerning if either of you could think past the hot friction between you.
Jisung’s laugh came out breathless and uneven, his teeth catching your lower lip when you arched up against him. "Told you—" His voice cracked as your walls clenched around him, his hips stuttering mid-thrust. "—told you I couldn’t last."
His fingers trembled where they gripped you, the calluses from guitar strings dragging against your inner thighs in a way that made your toes curl. The scent of rain and his stupid strawberry shampoo clinging to your sheets as he chased his own release with frantic, shallow rolls of his hips.
You moaned, high and shameless, as Jisung's hips snapped forward in a rough, uneven rhythm when you surged up to catch his mouth in a soft kiss, swallowing his gasp. The contrast was dizzying, the brutal pace of his thrusts versus the gentle press of your lips, the way his fingers trembled against your jaw even as his cock buried itself deep inside you with bruising force.
Jisung whimpered, his hips stuttering when you tangled your fingers in his damp hair and tugged just hard enough to make his back arch. Rainwater dripped from his bangs onto your cheeks, mingling with sweat as he broke the kiss to pant against your collarbone, his teeth scraping skin.
"Fuck—fuck, I can't—" His voice cracked, hips jerking erratically as he rutted into you with desperate, shallow thrusts that had you seeing stars.
Jisung’s thumb found your clit again with precision, circling the swollen bud in tight, dizzying spirals that made your thighs jerk uncontrollably against his hips. The pad of his finger, the friction delicious against your oversensitive flesh as he alternated between featherlight brushes and firmer pressure that had you gasping into the crook of his neck. His hips never slowed, if anything, the rhythm grew more erratic, each thrust punctuated by a broken noise from his throat as he chased his own release.
"You’re so close," he panted against your collarbone smirking, teeth scraping skin when you clenched around him involuntarily. His free hand slid beneath your thigh, hiking your leg higher over his hip to sink deeper with a groan that vibrated through your ribs. The angle change made stars burst behind your eyelids, his cock dragging against that sweet spot inside you with every snap of his hips. "C’mon, baby—let go for me."
Jisung pulled back suddenly, his breath ragged against your inner thigh. "Wait—" His voice cracked, pupils blown wide as he licked his lips. "I wanna taste you." The words barely left his mouth before he was diving down, tongue flat and hot against your clit in one messy, eager swipe that made your hips jerk off the mattress.
His nose bumped against your clit as he lapped at you with the same reckless enthusiasm, his tongue broad and wet against your oversensitive flesh. You gasped, fingers tangling in his rain-damp hair as he hummed appreciatively, the vibration traveling straight to your core.
You stared at him, Jisung between your thighs, tousled hair plastered to his forehead, lips glistening, and couldn't hold back the moan that tore from your throat.
"Fuck—" you choked out, thighs trembling as Jisung's thumbs hooked under your knees, spreading you wider. His nose bumped your clit again when he sucked gently, then harder, like he was trying to drink you in. The streetlight through your half-open blinds painted his cheekbones in sharp relief, shadows catching on his lashes when he glanced up, mouth busy, to watch you fall apart above him.
"You look so good—" The words tumbled out of you in a whine, high and desperate, as Jisung smirked up from between your thighs, his fingers moving perfectly inside you. The vibration of his answering hum against your sensitive skin had your back arching off the mattress, fingers scrabbling uselessly at the sheets tangled beneath you.
Jisung's nose brushed your entrance as he tilted his head, lips sealing around your clit in a messy, wet kiss that made your thighs jerk against his hold. His responding groan sent heat spiraling down to your toes.
"C'mon, pretty girl," Jisung murmured against your thigh, the words vibrating. His lips were slick with you, chin glistening in the dim light when he glanced up through wet lashes. "Let me hear you."
The first orgasm hit like a car crash, sudden and brutal. Your back arched off the mattress as his tongue flattened against your clit one last time, the vibration of his groan sending white-hot sparks up your spine. Jisung's name tore from your throat raw, fingers yanking his hair hard enough to make him whine against you.
Jisung's tongue darted out, a quick lick against his lower lip before his thumb followed, dragging slowly across the wetness there with deliberate precision. His gaze never left yours, pupils black as he sucked the tip of his thumb. The sight punched a ragged gasp from your lungs, your thighs squeezing reflexively around nothing.
"Tastes so nice," Jisung hummed, voice rough with want as he leaned in, his breath hot against your parted lips. His thumb, still damp from his mouth, brushed the corner of your lips in a teasing stroke before he finally, finally kissed you. The kiss was slow, your own slick on his tongue, his fingers curling possessively against your jaw as he licked deeper into your mouth.
His cock, still slick with your arousal, dragged against your inner thigh as he fumbled to line himself up, the blunt head catching at your entrance with a wet sound that made you both groan into the kiss.
"You're still—" you gasped against his mouth when he pushed in without warning, the stretch bordering on painful after your first orgasm. Jisung's answering moan vibrated against your lips.
The squelch was obscene, audible even over the drum of rain against the window and Jisung's ragged panting against your collarbone. His hips snapped forward again, burying his cock to the hilt with a wet slap that made you both gasp. Your thighs trembled where they bracketed his waist, still sensitive from your first orgasm, every drag of him inside you sending sparks up your spine.
"I like you so much—" Jisung's words dissolved into a groan as you clenched around him involuntarily, his rhythm stuttering. Rainwater dripped from his hair onto your breasts as he chased his own pleasure with rough, uneven thrusts that knocked the breath from your lungs.
"I like you too, Ji," you gasped against his collarbone, the words muffled by damp skin as Jisung slotted even closer, your chests pressed flush together, his ribs expanding against yours with each ragged breath. His arms wrapped tighter around your shoulders, fingers tangling in your hair as he fucked into you with slow, deep rolls of his hips that made your thighs quiver.
Jisung sighed against your temple, his lips brushing your hairline when he murmured, "Say it again." hips stuttering mid-thrust as if the words had physically unraveled him. You could feel the frantic rabbit-kick of his pulse where your palm splayed against his chest, the heat of him seeping into your skin.
"I like you," you moaned, the words cracking halfway as Jisung's thumb brushed your clit in tight, dizzying circles. His answering kiss was all teeth, rough enough to bruise but tilted just so, his nose bumping yours in a way that felt accidentally romantic. The contrast unraveled you.
Jisung broke the kiss with a wet sound, panting against your mouth. "I can't hold back anymore," his voice wrecked. His cock twitched inside you when you clenched around him reflexively, your thighs shaking where they hooked over his hips.
"Fuck—fuck, I'm—" The words dissolved into a whine high in his throat as you dragged your nails lightly through his rain-damp hair, scratching at his scalp just the way he'd shivered for earlier. His entire body locked up, trembling violently as his cock twitched inside you, warmth spilling messily between your thighs as he rutted through his orgasm with shallow, jerky thrusts.
"Shit—" Jisung gasped when he pulled out abruptly, his cock still pulsing as ropes of cum striped your inner thighs in large amounts. He looked mortified immediately, eyes wide as he scrambled for his discarded hoodie, fingers fumbling the fabric before pressing it clumsily against your skin. "Fuck, sorry, I didn't mean to—" His voice cracked, cheeks flushing dark as he dabbed at the mess with more urgency than precision, his free hand still tangled in your sheets like an anchor.
"You did not just use your hoodie!" You burst into laughter, shoving a handful of tissues at him from your bedside drawer. The absurdity of Jisung frantically mopping up his own mess with the same rain-soaked hoodie he'd been wearing all night, sent you into hysterics, your ribs aching as you clutched the sheets.
Jisung froze mid-dab, the ruined fabric dangling from his fingertips. His ears burned red. "It was an emergency!" he protested, voice cracking as he snatched the tissues from you.
You caught Jisung's wrist before he could scrub at your thighs with another ruined tissue, laughing as his fingers twitched in your grip. His lips parted, probably to protest again, but you kissed him before he could speak, smiling against his mouth as he startled before melting into the touch with a soft sigh.
His lips moved against yours. When you pulled back just enough to see his face, his eyelashes fluttered open slowly, revealing pupils still blown wide with lingering arousal and something softer, more vulnerable.
Jisung exhaled shakily, his fingers flexing against your hip where they'd settled without thought. "That was…" he started, then stopped, shaking his head with a huff of laughter. His thumb brushed your cheekbone, tentative, like he wasn't quite sure he was allowed to touch you now that the frantic energy had dissipated. The streetlight through your half-open blinds painted gold streaks across his collarbones, he didn't look real.
Jisung's lips lingered at your temple, pressing lazy kisses into your skin as his fingers traced idle patterns down your arm. The rain outside had slowed to a murmur, the rhythmic tapping syncing with the fall of his chest beneath your cheek. His heartbeat thudded against your ear, still a little too fast, like he hadn't quite caught his breath from earlier, but his arms around you were loose, comfortable. As if you'd always fit there.
"You're thinking too loud," Jisung mumbled against your hairline, his voice sleep-rough and tinged with amusement. "What's the verdict? Do I get a five-star review or am I getting banned from the premises for using my hoodie?"
You giggled, shaking your head as Jisung's fingers kept twisting absently around the ends of your hair, his touch feather-light yet impossible to ignore. "You're the one playing with my hair," you pointed out, nudging his knee with yours beneath the tangled sheets. "What's on your mind?"
Jisung's fingers stilled for a heartbeat before resuming their idle exploration. "Just thinking," he murmured, so quiet the rain against the window nearly swallowed the words.
"I believe in fate," Jisung said quietly. The words were so soft they barely disturbed the humid air between you. His thumb brushed your cheek like he was memorizing the shape of it. "Ever since I saw you at that bus stop with your headphones in, looking like you wanted to murder the next person who talked to you."
You pouted, couldn't help it, just enough for Jisung to notice before he smirked, thumb brushing the curve of your mouth. His fingers were still tangled in your hair, the damp strands clinging to his knuckles as he traced the shell of your ear with a touch so light it made you shiver. The admission hung between you.
"Fate, hm?" you murmured, nose bumping against his as you shifted closer, sheets rustling beneath you.
☆...━━━━━·:*☆...━━━━━·:*☆...
🏷️ Taglist: @11racha @janaethedreamer
seo changbin in [Stray Kids : SKZ-TALKER] Ep.82
Teacher's pet 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚
☆...━━━━━·:*☆...━━━━━·:*☆... Pairing: Nerd!Jisung x afab!reader Genre: smut no minors pls! (Includes unprotec sex, fingering, oral, squirting, nipple play, possessive themes)🔞 Summary: What starts as an academic crush on your painfully observant professor becomes significantly harder when you find his lewd diary. Wc: 13k Enjoy reading <33 If you want any specific ideas tell me and I will see what I can do! A/N: OML this took so long?? but yes we love nerdy & possessive hanji, If i say i hate nerd Han burn me bc that HOE is not me (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ ☆...━━━━━·:*☆...━━━━━·:*☆...
✧( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )✧
"You dropped this."
The voice came from behind you, warm, slightly amused, just as you were shoving your notebook into your bag. You turned to find Professor Han holding out a stray pen between his fingers.
"Oh, thank you, Mr. Han." You bowed your head slightly, catching the faint scent of his cologne, clean and woody as he leaned forward to hand you the pen.
When you straightened up, his mouth was quirked at the corner. His fingers lingered for half a second longer than necessary before he withdrew them, tucking his hands into the pockets of his slightly rumpled blazer.
"You’re always in such a hurry after class," he remarked, tilting his head toward the empty hallway behind him. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting sharp shadows under his cheekbones. "Do I bore you that much?"
"Oh no, sir," you said, your smile flashing quick and bright despite the flutter in your chest. "Just on my way to the café."
Professor Han hummed, low and considering, his gaze lingering on you a second too long. "The one by the library?" he asked, nodding toward the east wing. "Their espresso machine sounds like a dying animal." He laughed.
"Actually," you said, shifting your bag higher on your shoulder, "I was thinking of trying the one across the road. I heard they do a nicer coffee." The words tumbled out before you could second-guess them, and you caught yourself biting the inside of your cheek. Professor Han blinked, his smirk softening into something more genuine almost pleased.
"Is that an invitation?" he asked, voice dipping into that teasing tone you'd come to recognize during after office hours, when he'd lean back in his chair and dissect your arguments with a precision that left you equal parts frustrated and electrified. You shrugged, trying for nonchalance, but your pulse betrayed you, thrumming loud enough that you wondered if he could hear it.
Professor Han chuckled, the sound warm and low, as he stepped back to gesture toward the exit. "Lead the way," he said, and just like that, you were walking side by side through the university corridors. His stride was relaxed, hand holding his bag, whilst the other stayed in his pocket.
Outside, the afternoon sun was sharp, casting long shadows across the grass. You squinted against the light, adjusting your bag strap. “Professor Han—“ you said as he shifted slightly to block the sun from your eyes with his shoulder.
"It’s okay," he said, hands still tucked into his pockets as he nudged a stray pebble with the toe of his shoe. "Call me Jisung." The way he said it, like he’d been waiting for the right moment made your breath catch. He glanced up then, sunlight catching the gold flecks in his eyes, and smiled. Not the polished, professional one he wore during lectures, but something looser, warmer. The kind of smile that made you forget, just for a second, that he was your professor at all.
You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the way your fingers fidgeted with the strap of your bag.
The café across the road was small, the kind of place with mismatched chairs and handwritten chalkboard menus. The bell above the door jingled as you stepped inside, and the rich, bitter scent of freshly ground coffee wrapped around you like a familiar embrace. Jisung hovered just behind you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him.
"You weren’t kidding about the coffee," he murmured, nodding toward the gleaming espresso machine behind the counter. It was sleek and modern, a far cry from the rattling beast in the library café. His shoulder brushed yours as he leaned in slightly to inspect the menu, and you fought the urge to stiffen, forcing yourself to breathe normally despite the sudden tightness in your chest.
The barista greeted you both with a tired smile, her fingers tapping against the register. You hesitated for a second, acutely aware of Jisung hovering just behind you close enough that you could feel the faint shift of fabric when he adjusted his stance.
"Matcha latte, please," you said. The barista nodded, her fingers flying across the screen before she glanced expectantly at Jisung.
"Black coffee," he said, then paused, considering the pastry case. "And—" He pointed at a croissant dusted with powdered sugar. "That. For her."
"Oh no, it’s okay sir—Jisung," you corrected yourself, the name foreign on your tongue.
The croissant sat between you on the small café table. You poked at the edge of the plate, “You didn’t have to—"
"I wanted to," he interrupted, leaning back in his chair. "Consider it an apology."
"Well, thank you," you said, smiling as you carefully split the croissant in half. You nudged the larger piece toward him. "Here—consider it a peace offering for all the times I argued with you in class."
Jisung laughed, his fingers brushing yours as he accepted the pastry. The contact lingered, just a fraction too long before he pulled back, leaving your skin tingling. "You mean all the times you were right?" he teased, taking a bite.
His eyes never left yours. The café hummed around you, the hiss of steam, the murmur of other customers but it all faded into background noise. You took a sip of your matcha latte to steady yourself.
"You know," Jisung said, setting his cup down with deliberate care, "I’ve been meaning to ask you something." He traced the rim of his mug with his thumb, and you found yourself tracking the movement, the way his fingers curled just slightly. "Why did you pick my class?"
Jisung’s question hung between you, casual yet weighted like he’d been waiting to ask it all semester. "Well," you started, smoothing your thumb over the damp edge of your cup, "I always excelled at English literature and wanted to continue it." The answer was textbook, rehearsed, the kind you’d given advisors and relatives. But under Jisung’s gaze sharp and amused, as if he could see right through it, the words felt flimsy.
Jisung took a slow sip of his black coffee, his eyes never leaving yours. "That’s what your transcript says," he acknowledged, setting his cup down with a quiet clink. "But transcripts don’t explain why you argued with me for fifteen minutes about postmodernism in the middle of a lecture on Romantic poetry." His mouth quirked, and you caught the glint of challenge in his expression. "Or why you’re the only one who stays after class to debate the footnotes."
"Yeah... I write a lot in my spare time." The admission slipped out like a secret, too quiet for the café’s clatter. You watched his eyebrows lift, just a fraction and hurried to clarify. "Not just essays. Fiction.”
Jisung leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table, fingers loosely clasped. "Fiction," he repeated under his breath. "What kind?"
You shrugged, suddenly self-conscious under his attention. "Short stories, mostly. Some poetry." You hesitated, then added, "A novel, once. Half-finished."
Jisung’s eyes lit up, not the polite, professorial interest he gave during office hours, but something sharper, more genuine. He straightened in his chair, the table creaking under his sudden movement. "You’re kidding," he said, voice dropping into something almost conspiratorial. "I’ve been working on one for years. Never got past chapter twelve."
The admission caught you off guard. Professor Han Jisung writing fiction? The man who dissected your essays with surgical precision and graded your papers in red ink so meticulous it looked typeset? You blinked, stirring your matcha absently.
"That’s unexpected," you said, leaning your chin onto your hand, smiling as you watched him across the table. "I thought you’d be more of a non-fiction kinda guy." The sunlight caught the edge of his cheekbone, highlighting the faintest dusting of pink as he huffed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck like you’d caught him in something embarrassing.
Jisung tilted his head, the corner of his mouth tugging up. "What, because I spend my days grading dry academic essays?" he grinned as you snorted into your latte. "Turns out even stuffy professors need an outlet.“
You giggle. “I’d love to read your work sometime." The words slipped out before you could second guess them, half-teasing, half-sincere. Jisung's fingers froze around his coffee cup, his smirk faltering for a fraction of a second, long enough for you to notice the way his throat worked when he swallowed.
"Careful," he murmured. "That almost sounded like you’re asking for extracurricular reading." His voice dipped low, threading through the café’s ambient noise. You watched, mesmerized.
"Would you like to come by my place?" Jisung asked suddenly, his fingers drumming against the side of his coffee cup before stilling. The question hung between you casual, but weighted with something unspoken. "I've been working on some stuff that I think you'd like."
Across the table, Jisung's expression remained carefully neutral, but his knuckles were pale where they gripped his cup.
"Sure," you replied, smiling as you both finished the last of your drinks standing up from the café table.
You pretended not to notice how Jisung's fingers brushed the small of your back as he held the door open.
Outside, the afternoon had softened into golden hour.
"You okay with taking the train to mine?" Jisung asked, smiling as he brushed a stray hair back. The question was casual, but there was something in the way his fingers flexed at his sides, like he was physically restraining himself from reaching out.
You hesitated, watching a group of undergraduates spill past you both laughing and chatting. The station was just two blocks down, the familiar rumble of the approaching train already vibrating underfoot. "Won't people—" you started, then bit your tongue. Jisung tilted his head, waiting. Won't people talk? Won't they recognize us? The unspoken questions hung between you like static.
"I mean, I know you’re a young teacher, but still—" you blurted out, then immediately regretted it when Jisung’s footsteps faltered mid-stride. He turned toward you, eyebrows lifting in silent question. The train doors hissed open behind him, and a rush of commuters surged past, forcing you both to step closer together on the platform.
Jisung leaned in slightly, his shoulder brushing yours as he ducked his head to hear you over the station’s chimes. "But still... what?" he prompted, voice low. His breath ghosted warm against your ear, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. You swallowed hard, gripping the strap of your bag like a lifeline. You hopped on the train as Jisung followed behind.
"But still... what?" Jisung repeated, his voice dropping to a murmur as the train doors hissed shut behind you both. The carriage was half-empty, the late afternoon crowd thinning out. You hesitated, fingers tightening around the overhead rail as the train lurched forward.
"Isn’t this—" You bit your lip, glancing around at the scattered commuters. A student in the far corner was scrolling through their phone, oblivious. An elderly man dozed against the window. "I don’t know... this isn’t intruding, is it?" The words came out softer than you intended, almost lost in the rumble of the tracks beneath you.
Jisung’s expression softened, his fingers twitching like he wanted to reach out but thought better of it. The train swayed, pressing your shoulder against his.
"Intruding?" he repeated, voice barely above the rattle of the carriage. His mouth curved into a smile. "You’re the one who invited me for coffee, remember?"
"Yeah, but—" You faltered, watching the city blur past the window. "Coffee’s one thing. Your place is..." You trailed off, heat creeping up your neck. Jisung exhaled a quiet laugh, his elbow nudging yours.
You got off at the next station as the train sped away. The next train hissed into view seconds later.
"Come on—before we miss this train," Jisung grinned, his fingers suddenly closing around yours as he tugged you forward. His palm was warm and slightly rough against your skin. The train doors chimed in warning, the sound barely audible over your own heartbeat.
You stumbled into him, your free hand flying up to brace against his chest as the momentum carried you both deeper into the carriage. His blazer was soft, the fabric warm from his body heat. Jisung steadied you with a laugh, his other hand coming up to hover near your elbow. "Careful," he murmured, though he didn't let go of your hand. His thumb brushed absently over your pulse point, as if he could feel the way your heartbeat hurried beneath your skin.
The train was one of those beautifully refurbished vintage models, the kind with wide windows that slid open and polished wooden benches that creaked under your weight. You settled onto the seat beside Jisung, close enough that your thighs brushed whenever the carriage swayed. The late afternoon sun streamed through the glass, painting everything in gold, and a light breeze slipped through the open window, carrying with it the distant scent of the city’s bakeries and the faintest hint of Jisung’s cologne.
Jisung stretched his arm along the back of the seat, his fingers drumming an absent rhythm against the wood. "These trains always remind me of being a kid," he mused, tilting his head toward the passing skyline. The wind tousled his hair, softening the sharp lines of his profile. "My dad used to take me on the old line every Sunday. Said it was the best way to see the city without any distractions."
You nodded, leaning into the sway of the train. "I used to ride this line all the time when I lived on the other side of the city." The admission slipped out easily, loosened by the golden-hour glow and the way Jisung's fingers still brushed yours where they rested on the seat between you. "Back when I was applying to the university, actually. I'd take the early train just to sit in the library courtyard and pretend I already went here."
Jisung chuckled, his thumb tracing a slow arc over your knuckles. The motion was absent, like he wasn't even aware he was doing it but it sent a current of warmth up your arm anyway. "Smuggling yourself onto campus," he mused, tilting his head to catch your eye. "Should I be concerned about a pattern of academic trespassing?"
You laughed as Jisung pushed up his glasses, smirking. The lenses caught the afternoon sun, momentarily obscuring his eyes. "Academic trespassing?" you echoed, nudging his knee with yours as the train swayed around a bend. "I prefer to think of it as... early enrollment."
Jisung's smirk deepened, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm against the seat back behind you. "Early enrollment," he repeated. His thumb brushed the nape of your neck, barely there, just the faintest graze, before he withdrew his hand to adjust his glasses again. The frames left a faint indentation on the bridge of his nose, and you had to curl your fingers into your palms to stop yourself from reaching out to smooth it away.
You couldn’t help the way your little crush on Professor Han deepened with every passing moment. It wasn’t just the way his fingers lingered on you, or how his thigh pressed against yours whenever the carriage swayed. It was the way he tilted his head when listening, like your words were worth dissecting. The way sunlight caught in his lashes when he laughed, turning them gold. The way he said stupid shit with that teasing smile, as if he’d been waiting all semester to find someone who matched his wit.
The train slowed as it approached his stop, brakes groaning against the tracks. Jisung stood, offering his hand, not to help you up, but just because. You didn’t let go immediately, and neither did he, his fingers tightening just enough to make your pulse skip. "Careful," he murmured as you stepped onto the platform, though the train had long since stilled. His thumb brushed your knuckles once before he released you, leaving your skin tingling.
"Thank you," you replied with a smile, still distracted by the way the evening sunlight caught in Jisung's face. It wasn't until you both stepped clear of the platform that you realized your fingers were still tangled together, his thumb resting lightly against your pulse point. Neither of you had let go.
His fingers twitched slightly against yours, not retreating, just adjusting as if this casual intimacy was something he'd been thinking about longer than the duration of a train ride. The silence stretched between you, filled only by the distant echo of departing trains and the shuffle of commuters. Then, with deliberate casualness, he laced his fingers more securely through yours and tugged you gently toward the exit.
"My place isn’t far from the station" Jisung murmured, pulling his keys from his pocket as you both rounded the corner onto a quiet residential street. The metal jingled faintly in his palm, as he tilted his chin toward a brick fronted walkway with ivy crawling up one side. The building looked older than the surrounding apartments, its worn iron railings slightly crooked with age, but there was something charming about it.
His fingers tightened briefly around yours as you climbed the steps, his thumb brushing your knuckle when he paused to unlock the door. The lock clicked open as Jisung shouldered the door open with a quiet, "After you." The hallway beyond was dimly lit, the hardwood floors creaking underfoot as you stepped inside, the scent of old books and faint whiskey wrapping around you like a second embrace.
The first thing that struck you was how much light there was. Floor to ceiling windows lined one entire wall of Jisung's apartment, bathing the space in golden afternoon glow. Bookshelves sturdy and modern, built into the walls stretched from floor to ceiling, packed tight with volumes in neat rows. But unlike the haphazard stacks in his office, these were organized with almost obsessive precision, arranged by genre and then alphabetically within each section. You could spot the occasional gap where a book had been pulled and not yet returned, little absences in the otherwise perfect order.
"I know," Jisung said, catching your gaze as he toed off his shoes by the door. He smirked, rubbing the back of his neck where his hair curled slightly at the nape. "It's a sickness." His feet made no sound as he crossed the hardwood floors, unscuffed as if freshly polished, to flick on a minimalist lamp. The warm light pooled across the low coffee table, illuminating hundreds of well-worn paperbacks stacked messily.
Jisung nudged a stray hardcover back into alignment with his foot as he passed the shelf, the motion so automatic you wondered how many times he'd done it without thinking. "Don't mind the mess," he deadpanned, gesturing to the shit ton of books and notes left everywhere. His smirk softened when you laughed, fingers trailing along a shelf as you examined titles. Your fingertip bumped a slightly crooked volume Nabokov’s Pale Fire and Jisung’s hand twitched at his side like he was physically restraining himself.
"Your place is lovely, Jisung," you said, fingertips grazing the spine of a well-loved copy of The Great Gatsby. The leather binding was soft under your touch, the gold lettering slightly faded from handling. Behind you, Jisung exhaled a quiet laugh not quite self-conscious, but something close.
"It’s a little obsessive," he admitted, nudging a stray paperback back into alignment on the coffee table. The motion was absent, automatic, like he couldn’t help himself.
"My brother says it looks like a museum. 'Who alphabetizes their spices, Jisung?'" He mimicked a high-pitched voice, rolling his eyes, but you caught the way his fingers lingered on the shelf as he smiled.
You giggle as you look around, fingertips grazing the spine of a well-worn poetry collection. "Obsessive? Maybe. But it’s kind of..." You trail off, searching for the right word as sunlight pools across the hardwood between you. "Endearing." The admission slips out before you can second-guess it, and Jisung’s fingers pause mid-adjustment on a book.
You perched on the edge of Jisung's sofa, too stiff, too aware of the way the cushions barely dented under your weight as he moved toward the kitchen. His blazer was draped over the armchair now, sleeves rolled to reveal forearms his tendons shifting as he reached for glasses in the overhead cabinet. The ice clinked sharply when he dropped cubes into them, the sound startling in the quiet apartment.
He glanced over his shoulder, catching your startled expression, and smirked. "Nervous?" he asked, tilting his head toward the untouched sofa cushions behind you. "You look like you're sitting on a museum piece." His fingers curled around the refrigerator handle, the tendons in his forearm flexing as he pulled the door open. "Would you like something to drink?"
You swallowed, fingers fidgeting. "Water’s fine," you said. Jisung’s smirk deepened as he pulled a pitcher from the fridge and poured with care.
"Thank you, Jisung," you murmured as he handed you the glass, your fingers brushing against his just long enough to feel the warmth lingering beneath his skin. The water was crisp and cold, condensation already beading along your fingertips, but you barely registered the chill. All you could focus on was the way Jisung’s eyes tracked the path of your thumb along the rim of the glass, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to say something then thought better of it.
He cleared his throat and turned back toward the kitchen, but not before you caught the way his knuckles whitened around his own glass. “I’ll be back in a sec” Jisung smiled as he headed up stairs.
Your fingers traced the condensation on your glass absentmindedly as your gaze drifted across the living room. The late afternoon light had shifted and that’s when you noticed it a stack of handwritten notes piled haphazardly beside the sleek laptop on Jisung’s desk, so out of place amidst the meticulous order of the apartment. A single leather-bound notebook lay open on top, its pages filled with dense, looping script that slanted aggressively across the lines, as if the words had been chased onto the paper.
You shouldn’t look. You knew you shouldn’t look. But your feet carried you forward anyway, the hardwood cool under your socks as you drifted toward the desk. The top page was covered in revisions, entire paragraphs crossed out with such anger the pen had nearly torn through the paper and in the margins, tiny arrows pointed to frantic notes crammed between lines. One phrase stood out, circled three times with an intensity that made your pulse stutter, "Her laugh was the first thing he noticed not the pitch, but the way it crinkled her eyes, like she’d been saving it just for him."
The sentence stared back at you, ink slightly smudged where Jisung’s pen had lingered too long. Your fingers hovered above the page close enough to feel the indentations of his handwriting, but not touching. Not yet. Because beneath that line, crammed into the narrow margin like a secret, was another, "She argues like she’s fencing, all quick parries and calculated retreats, and Christ, I want to lose to her."
Your breath caught. The notebook’s spine creaked as you turned the page without meaning to, revealing a half-finished scene where two characters a professor and his student, though the names were scratched out and rewritten three times. The dialogue was verbatim. That was your argument from last Tuesday’s seminar, down to your habit of twisting your pen between sentences.
The next page turned with a whisper, revealing fragments, jotted observations. “Her hair catches sunlight like that brown until it isn’t, then gold at the edges when she turns her head too fast." Your fingers trembled against the paper.
A coffee ring stained the corner of the next page, warping the words slightly, “Bites her lower lip when concentrating. Left side only. Would she notice if I—" The sentence ended abruptly, ink blotted as if Jisung had slammed the pen down mid-thought.
Your fingers closed around the notebook's leather cover before you could stop yourself. The spine cracked open with a whisper, revealing pages upon pages.
The next page turned with a whisper, and your fingers froze against the paper. The handwriting here was different less precise, ink smudged as if written in haste. “She leans forward when she argues, and fuck, the way her collarbones catch the light—like she’s daring me to trace them." The words burned against your retinas. Your pulse roared in your ears, drowning out the distant sound of Jisung’s footsteps upstairs.
Another page. Another confession. "Today she wore that sweater with the loose neckline. Every time she bent over her notes, I had to bite my tongue raw." The ink blurred slightly, as if dampened by sweat or-
Your throat tightened by something else entirely. The margin here was crowded with frantic sketches quick, rough strokes of a hand pushing fabric aside, of teeth grazing a shoulder you recognized with sickening certainty.
The next page was dog-eared, the paper soft from repeated handling. Your breath hitched as your eyes caught the words scrawled in Jisung’s tight, urgent script, “I wonder if she makes noise when she touches herself. Small sounds, barely there—the catch of her breath when she’s trying to be quiet. Or maybe she doesn’t try at all. Maybe she moans loud enough to shake the walls, and Christ, I want to hear it." The ink bled at the edges where his pen had pressed too hard, leaving the paper slightly warped, as if he’d written this in a fever.
Your fingers trembled against the page. A hot flush crawled up your neck as you read on, “Does she bite her lip like she does in class? Or does her mouth fall open, pretty and ruined? Does she think about me when her fingers slip lower—" The sentence ended abruptly, the pen stroke jagged where he’d clearly crossed it out. But not thoroughly enough. You could still make out the words "y/n" beneath the furious slashes.
The notebook's pages stuck together slightly as you turned them, they seemed never ending. Then you saw it, an entry dated just last Wednesday, penned in handwriting messier than the rest, ink smeared like he'd been in a hurry.
“Fuck. Fuck. She wore that perfume today—the one that clings to the air when she walks past my desk. Vanilla and something darker underneath, like she wants to be tasted. Three hours of lecture and all I could think about was pressing my face to her neck and inhaling until my lungs burned. Had to dismiss class early. Locked myself in the storage closet behind the supply shelves. Came so hard I saw stars thinking about her thighs pressed against my ears while she rides my tongue. Her scent was still on my hands when I graded papers afterward. Didn’t wash them until midnight."
The notebook slipped from your fingers, not quite falling, but enough that the spine hit the desk with a soft thump. The sound echoed in the quiet apartment, suddenly deafening. You remembered the pen. The damn pen. Last Thursday, Jisung had paused mid-lecture, patting his pockets with a theatrical sigh before turning to the class. "Anyone got a spare?" he'd asked, and of course you'd been the first to raise your hand, sliding your favorite black gel pen across the desk. He'd taken it with a murmured thanks, his fingers lingering just a second too long on yours. You'd watched, transfixed, as he uncapped it with his teeth (a habit you'd teased him about later) and scratched notes in the margins of his lecture draft. The same pen that had disappeared into his breast pocket afterward, tucked away like a secret.
Now you knew why.
You barely had time to register the sound before the creak of footsteps on the stairs froze the breath in your lungs. Jisung was coming back.
You scrambled to flip the notebook closed. The pages crumpled slightly under your panicked touch as you shoved it back into place, knocking over a stack of papers in the process. A single sheet fluttered to the floor, landing face up, a half-finished poem with your name circled three times at the top, the letters dark and desperate like he’d traced them over and over.
The footsteps halted mid-stair.
You didn’t need to turn around to know Jisung had seen you, the sharp intake of breath behind you was enough. The air in the apartment thickened, charged with the weight of a thousand unspoken words caught between his ribs and yours. Slowly, deliberately, you turned.
The notebook lay open between you like a crime scene. Jisung stood frozen halfway down the stairs, one hand gripping the banister so tight his knuckles had gone bone-white. His throat worked silently, once, twice before he managed a strangled, "You—" and then nothing. The word hung in the air, incomplete, as his gaze darted from your face to the incriminating page and back again. His Adam’s apple bobbed violently.
You’d never seen him speechless before. Not in lectures, not during office hours, not even that time Jeongin from the debate team tried to argue that postmodernism was just "emo for philosophers." But now Jisung looked utterly gutted, his lips parted around unformed words, his free hand flexing at his side like he wanted to reach for the notebook but couldn’t bring himself to move.
"Shit, I'm—" Jisung's voice cracked mid-sentence, the sound raw and unguarded. The air between you thrummed with the weight of everything unsaid.
You took a shaky step backward, your heel bumping the desk leg. The silence stretched for a bit, punctuated only by the distant hum of the refrigerator and the too-loud hitch of Jisung's breathing. His throat worked visibly as he descended the remaining stairs with deliberate slowness, each step measured like he was afraid any sudden movement might send you bolting for the door.
"Jisung." You barely recognized your own voice low, steadier than you felt, as he took another cautious step forward. His glasses caught the light when he adjusted them.
He stopped just out of arm's reach, fingers twitching toward the fallen poem before shoving both hands into his pockets instead. His throat moved as he swallowed. "I can explain," he started, but the words died under your gaze. You'd never seen him like this, chest rising too fast, the usual sharp angles of his posture gone soft with surrender.
"Did you write this about me?" The words left your lips before you could stop them. The air in the apartment seemed to still.
Jisung's fingers flexed at his sides, then curled inward. A muscle jumped in his jaw. For the first time since you'd met him, through countless lectures, heated debates, stolen glances in office hours, Professor Han Jisung looked genuinely speechless. His throat worked silently.
Jisung exhaled sharply through his nose, a sound halfway between a laugh and a surrender. "Yes." His gaze didn't waver. "Every word."
The silence stretched between you. Jisung’s gaze flickered to the notebook then back to your face, searching for something you weren’t sure you could name. His throat moved as he swallowed, the sound audible in the stillness.
"I didn’t expect..." you mumbled, your fingers brushing the frame of his glasses to push them back up his nose. The gesture was intimate, your thumb skimming the arch of his cheekbone before withdrawing. Jisung's pupils dilated behind the lenses as you stepped closer.
"You are such a perv, Han Jisung." The accusation came out breathless, half-laughing, as you tapped the open notebook with one fingertip.
Jisung didn’t flinch. Instead, his lips curved into something dangerously close to a smirk, though his voice was rough when he countered, "You read it." His hand rose to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
"Did you like what you read..?" Jisung's voice was low. His fingers still hovered near your ear, his thumb brushing the shell of it in slow circles that sent shivers down your spine. The question hung between you.
You swallowed, your pulse rabbiting beneath your skin. The notebook lay open between you, its pages filled with Jisung's desperate, ink-stained confessions. "I—" You hesitated, your gaze darting from his lips back to the notebook. "It was... detailed."
“Y/n..." Jisung breathed your name like it was something sacred, his fingers trailing from your ear to the hinge of your jaw. The pad of his thumb pressed lightly against your pulse point, and you could feel the tremor in his hand mirroring your own. "You're shaking."
The observation was soft. You hadn't realized it until he said it, how your knees had gone weak beneath you and how your fingers clutched the edge of the desk for balance. The leather-bound notebook lay between you like a third presence, its pages still parted to that damning passage about the storage closet, about his hands, about the way he'd—
Jisung took a step forward.
"You read it," he murmured again, voice roughened at the edges. His thumb brushed your wrist where it rested against the desk. "Every word. Every fucking confession." His lips curved into a smile,too sharp. "And you're still here."
The slap landed with a sharp crack, not hard enough to sting, but enough to make Jisung’s head snap sideways, his glasses ascew across his face. His cheek burned where your palm had connected, the ghost of your fingers lingering on his skin like a branding. For a heartbeat, neither of you moved.
Then Jisung laughed, the sound scraping against his throat as he turned back to face you. His cheek bloomed pink where you’d struck him, his pupils blown wide behind his disheveled bangs. "That’s it?" he rasped, tongue darting out to swipe at the corner of his mouth. "After everything you just read? That’s all I get?"
You couldn't help but roll your eyes as Jisung inched closer, biting his lip.
"You are such a creep, Jisung," you said, but your voice cracked halfway through, the words landing somewhere between accusation and surrender. Your palm still tingled from the slap, the heat of his skin lingering on yours like an echo.
Jisung exhaled sharply, not quite a laugh, more a release of tension, and adjusted his glasses with deliberate slowness. The left lens was smudged where your fingers had grazed it, distorting his eye behind the glass. "Yeah," he admitted, voice rough. His thumb brushed the reddening mark on his cheekbone, pressing lightly as if testing the sting. "But you knew that." His gaze flicked to the notebook still open on the desk, then back to you. "You read that."
"On the outside you just look like a nice, attractive English teacher..." You tapped Jisung's shoulder with one fingertip, watching the way his throat worked when he swallowed. His glasses were still crooked from your slap, one lens catching the fading light in a way that made his left eye appear darker than the right. "But little does everyone know.."
Jisung's mouth twitched, not quite a smile, but something dangerously close. He caught your wrist before you could withdraw your hand, his thumb pressing into your pulse point with deliberate pressure. "Know what?" he challenged, voice dropping into that register that always made your knees weak during lectures, low and rough, like he'd been grading papers all night.
Your fingers reached up to adjust his glasses, the frames warm from his skin. "You're a fucking horny creep," you whispered, your breath hitching halfway through as laughter bubbled up, nervous, giddy.
Jisung didn't flinch. His exhale hit your lips, warm, as his hands slid up to cage your wrists against his chest. "Tell me something I don't know," he murmured, his voice roughened at the edges. His pulse thrummed violently beneath your fingertips, betraying the calm of his words.
Jisung's hands slid from your wrists to your hips in one fluid motion, fingers pressing into the dip of your waist hard enough to bruise. His grip was possessive, not tentative like the fleeting touches in the café or the careful brush of his fingers on the train. This was deliberate, his thumbs tracing the edge of your hipbones through your clothes like he'd mapped them a hundred times in his head and was finally verifying.
The desk hit the back of your thighs with a dull thud before you registered Jisung moving, his hands sliding under your hips in one fluid motion, lifting you as easily as if you were weightless. Your breath caught as your back met the wall behind the desk, the impact jostling a stack of graded papers that cascaded to the floor in a flutter. Jisung didn’t even glance at them. His gaze never wavered from yours, dark and hungry and utterly focused.
"You’ve been driving me insane," he murmured, the words rough against your lips as he crowded between your knees. His palms slid up your thighs, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp. The wood beneath you was cool through your clothes, but everywhere Jisung touched burned. "Every damn lecture. Every time you bite your lip thinking too hard. Every—" His voice cracked as your knees tightened around his hips, pulling him closer. "Christ, the way you argue with me like you know I’ll let you win."
Jisung's lips brushed the column of your throat, a featherlight graze that shouldn't have burned, but did. His teeth followed, scraping the delicate skin beneath your ear in a way that made your hips jerk against his. The sound that escaped you was embarrassingly loud in the quiet apartment, half-moan, half-laugh, muffled against his shoulder when you buried your face there.
"You wrote about this," you gasped as his tongue licked the spot he'd just bitten, your fingers twisting in his hair, longer than professors' hair should be, soft between your knuckles. The realization hit you between breaths, every flick of his tongue against your pulse, every nip of teeth was rehearsed. He'd scripted this in smudged ink, weeks or months before your fingers ever touched that notebook.
Jisung's breath hitched when your nails scraped the nape of his neck, just like he'd written in Chapter Twelve, in that messy margin note you'd almost missed. His hips jerked forward instinctively, pinning you harder against the wall as if he could fuse the scene from his notebook directly into reality. The desk creaked ominously beneath you, but neither of you cared.
"I've thought about this..alot," he murmured against your collarbone, teeth grazing the hollow where your pulse jumped. His hands slid higher under your thighs, fingers pressing into the soft flesh there with a familiarity that shouldn't have existed yet. "Every fucking variation. The supply closet after office hours—". "The empty lecture hall when you stay late to argue about Faulkner—".
"Spread them now," Jisung murmured, the words rough against the damp skin of your throat. His hands slid down your thighs with deliberate slowness, fingers pressing into the soft flesh just above your knees, not pushing, just guiding. The desk creaked beneath you as you instinctively obeyed, letting your legs fall open around his hips. The wood was cool against the backs of your thighs, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from Jisung's body as he knelt between them.
The position should have felt obscene, should have made you scramble to cover yourself, but the way Jisung looked up at you through his glasses, turned it into something dangerously intimate. His breath hitched when your knees brushed his shoulders, the warmth of his exhale ghosting over your inner thighs as he leaned in closer. "Christ," he whispered, fingers flexing against your skin. "You're even prettier than I imagined."
"This skirt is so pretty," Jisung murmured against your inner thigh, his breath hot through the thin fabric. His fingers traced the hem with slowness, following the delicate scalloped edge where it brushed mid-thigh. "The way it fans out when you turn—god, I've watched it all semester." The confession came out rough, punctuated by his soft cheek leaning against the sensitive skin above your knee.
You gasped when his hands slid beneath the skirt. The material pooled around his wrists like spilled ink, the checkered print crumpling under his grip. "You—" The words dissolved into a moan as his thumb found the lace edge of your underwear, tracing the border with agonizing precision. "You stared at my skirt during lectures?"
Jisung’s fingers curled into the lace, his knuckles brushing against the damp heat between your thighs as he exhaled a laugh. "You have no idea," he murmured, dragging the pad of his thumb along the soaked fabric. "The way this one rides up when you cross your legs in the front row. How the hem flutters when you rush out after class." His teeth grazed your inner thigh, blunt and deliberate. "You look so pretty in everything—how could I resist?"
The confession unraveled you more than his touch. His voice was wrecked, syllables crumbling at the edges like the pages of his overhandled notebook. You could feel the proof of his words in the way his fingers trembled, not from hesitation, but from the effort of holding back. The desk creaked as you arched into his touch, your hips lifting instinctively. Jisung groaned, low and ragged, his grip tightening to keep you still.
"This is the type of underwear you wear?" Jisung's voice was pure gravel, his grin wicked as his fingers traced the damp lace stretched taut over your skin. The pad of his thumb pressed down right where you ached most, drawing a choked noise from your throat.
"So fucking slutty," he murmured, dragging the lace aside just enough to expose you to the cool air of the apartment. His exhale hit your bare skin, hot and uneven. "You wore these to my lecture last Tuesday. I know because I saw the strap when you bent to pick up your pen."
Your hips jerked involuntarily, the lace scraping sensitive flesh as he huffed a laugh against your inner thigh. His teeth grazed the same spot he'd written about and you realized with dizzying clarity that he'd cataloged every detail.
"You—" The accusation died in your throat when his tongue replaced his thumb, licking a slow stripe through the fabric. The lace darkened instantly, clinging to your skin as he groaned. "Christ, you're soaked. Just from me looking?"
You bit your lip, embarrassed, looking down, only to realize with dawning horror where your gaze had landed. Jisung's glasses were fogged at the edges, his pupils blown wide behind the smudged lenses as he stared up at you from between your thighs. The flush creeping up his neck matched the heat burning your own cheeks, his parted lips inches from where your skirt bunched around his wrists.
His fingers tightened on your hips just holding you there, suspended in the moment like a sentence trailing off mid-confession. The air between you smelled like charged with something darker, something unmistakable. His exhale hit damp fabric, making you twitch violently against his grip.
"Jisung-ah—" you moaned, the syllables fracturing into a gasp as his tongue finally replaced fingers on lace. The sound startled both of you, too loud, too desperate in the quiet apartment and Jisung's grip on your thighs tightened reflexively. His glasses fogged more at the bridge from your heat, lenses obscuring his eyes but not the way his throat worked when you arched against his mouth.
"You say my name like that," he murmured against damp fabric, teeth scraping the soaked lace just hard enough to make you jerk, "and I'll fail you." The threat would've landed if not for how wrecked his voice sounded, like he'd been the one reduced to panting against someone's thigh. His fingers trembled where they gripped your hips, nails biting crescents through your skirt.
The first lick was slow, flat-tongued and devastatingly thorough as if Jisung intended to memorize the taste of you through lace. His glasses dug into your inner thigh when he tilted his head, the metal frames leaving indentations that would linger like fingerprints. You gasped, fingers scrabbling against the desk's edge as his tongue circled the exact spot you were craving.
"Fuck—" The syllable shattered when his teeth caught the soaked fabric, tugging just enough to expose bare skin to the apartment's cool air. Jisung exhaled sharply through his nose, the sound ragged, before replacing lace with his mouth, hot, open-mouthed and ravenous. His thumbs pressed into your hipbones, holding you in place as he licked into you with the same focused intensity he reserved for dissecting sonnets in class.
"So fucking cute," Jisung mumbled against your inner thigh, his breath hitching as he peeled the soaked lace aside with trembling fingers. The fabric clung stubbornly for a heartbeat before yielding, revealing skin flushed pink with want. His glasses slid down his nose with the motion, one lens pressing cold against your knee as he exhaled sharply, half disbelief at the sight.
"Shit, you're dripping—" The sentence fractured when his thumb brushed your slick heat, his groan vibrating against your skin.
The desk groaned beneath you as you arched into Jisung's touch, your fingers fumbling with the top button of your blouse. The crisp paper of his graded essays pressed against your back, each rustling sheet a stark reminder of how many student assignments were being irrevocably creased beneath your weight. Jisung didn't seem to care, he kissed your thighs gently as your blouse gaped open, revealing the lace edge of your bra to the golden afternoon light filtering through his apartment windows.
"These too?" Jisung's voice was wrecked as he hooked a finger under your bra strap, the elastic snapping back against your skin with a quiet twang. His glasses were completely fogged now, abandoned somewhere in the tangle of discarded papers near your hip. Without them, his gaze was startlingly direct, dark and hungry as it tracked the way your chest rose with each uneven breath. "You wore this to my office hours last month," he murmured, thumb brushing the scalloped lace. "Spent forty minutes arguing about Brontë while I counted every fucking time this strap slipped off your shoulder."
Your fingers trembled against the next button of your blouse from the way Jisung's gaze burned against your exposed chest. The fabric parted with a quiet snick, revealing another inch of skin that Jisung tracked with a hunger that made your pulse stutter. His thumb stilled against your inner thigh, pressing hard enough to leave a mark as you undid the third button with deliberate slowness.
"You're watching me like I'm—" The words dissolved into a gasp when Jisung's mouth found your entrance.
Jisung's tongue was hotter than you expected, flat and deliberate as it dragged through your folds with the same slow precision he used to underline passages in textbooks. His nose bumped your clit when he tilted his head, and you gasped at the sensation, too much and not enough all at once. His glasses were gone, abandoned somewhere in the mess of papers on the floor, you could see clearer the way his eyelashes fluttered when you jerked against his mouth. Without the glasses, his face looked startlingly bare, younger somehow, the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the faint scar above his eyebrow more pronounced.
"You taste like heaven..” Jisung's voice fractured against your skin, his breath hitching when your fingers twisted in his hair. His lips were slick with you, chin glistening where he'd pressed his face deeper between your thighs. The words dissolved into a groan as he licked into you again, his tongue circling your entrance with agonizing patience before flicking upward in a sharp, practiced motion that made your back arch off the desk.
The first finger slid in with ease, his knuckles brushing against you in a way that made your thighs clamp reflexively around his wrist. Jisung let out a muffled laugh against your skin, the vibration sending shocks up your spine, before nipping at your inner thigh in warning. "Easy," he murmured, the word warm and damp where his lips pressed. His free hand smoothed up your trembling stomach, fingers splaying across your ribs as if to steady you. "I'm not going anywhere."
You choked on a moan when he hooked that finger just so, the pad of it rubbing against a spot that made your vision blur at the edges. The desk creaked violently as your hips jerked off its surface, papers cascading to the floor. Jisung didn't even flinch.
The moan that ripped from your throat was embarrassingly loud, sharp enough that Jisung's fingers stuttered inside you, his eyes blown wide as he watched. His lips curled into a smirk you felt more than saw, the vibrations of his chuckle sending fresh tremors through your oversensitive nerves. "That's it," he murmured against damp skin, his tongue lapping at the mess he'd made between your thighs. "Let me hear you."
His free hand slid up your stomach, fingers splaying across your ribs, just possessive, as he added a second finger with torturous slowness. The stretch burned deliciously, your body yielding to him like well-worn pages under his touch. Papers rustled beneath your arched back as you gasped his name again, louder this time, the syllables breaking when his thumb found your clit in relentless circles.
Your fingers tightened in Jisung's hair, just enough pressure to make him groan into you. His scalp was warm beneath your fingertips, strands soft as ink between your knuckles. The motion pulled his head back slightly, forcing him to meet your gaze through the haze of pleasure clouding your vision. His lips were slick, chin glistening where he'd pressed his face into you moments before, and the sight alone sent another pulse of heat between your legs.
The change was instantaneous, Jisung's fingers curled sharply inside you, his wrist twisting at an angle that shouldn't feel possible until you're gasping against the desk's edge. His pace accelerates with the precision of someone who's imagined this exact motion a hundred times, each thrust measured yet frantic, as if he's racing against some invisible clock. His thumb finds your clit again, the pressure brutal in its consistency, rubbing tight little circles that make your vision pulse white at the edges.
"You take me so well," Jisung murmurs, the words vibrating through your skin. His free hand slides up to palm your ribs, fingers splaying possessively as he presses you harder into the desk, ensuring you feel every deliberate stroke. The wood creaks violently beneath you, his graded papers now irrevocably crumpled under your shifting weight. His focus is just on you, lapping like a desperate dog.
"Fuck—Ji, I'm gonna cum—" The words tore from your throat raw and ragged, your fingers twisting in Jisung's hair hard enough to make him groan against your clit.
Jisung's laugh vibrated against your skin, dark and uneven. "Yeah?" His tongue pressed harder against your clit, circling in tight, relentless motions that matched the pace of his fingers. The wet sound of his hand moving between your thighs was lewdly loud in the quiet apartment.
"Cum all over this book." Jisung groaned, his fingers twisting inside you with deliberate cruelty. The pages of his notebook, the one filled with his desperate confessions, lay spread beneath your hips, pristine paper crinkling under your shifting weight. His lips curled into something feral when you whimpered, his thumb pressing down harder on your clit. "You read it," he rasped, breath hot against your skin. "Now ruin it."
The command sent a fresh pulse of heat through your veins, your fingers scrabbling against the desk's edge as his fingers curled. The notebook's pages were cool beneath your bare thighs. You could still see the way his pupils dilated when your hips jerked involuntarily, smearing dampness across his handwritten words.
The moment stretched like taffy, your moans echoed, Jisung's fingers and tongue didn't stop, before everything snapped.
A sound tore from your throat, half-sob, half-laugh, as your hips jerked violently against his hand. Wetness gushed across the notebook beneath you, ink bleeding instantly under the sudden flood, his frantic handwriting dissolving of desire and shame.
Jisung made a noise like he'd been punched, his free hand clutching your hip hard enough to leave fingerprints as he watched his words drown under you. His fingers never stopped moving, drawing out the aftershocks with cruel precision until you were squirming, oversensitive and shaking, his name a broken syllable on your lips.
The notebook pages stuck to your thighs as you gasped for air, Jisung's fingers still lazily tracing circles inside you, gentler now, almost apologetic. His breath came in ragged bursts against your knee, lips parted and glistening. When you finally managed to focus, his gaze was locked on the wreckage beneath you, the ink-blurred pages plastered to your skin like a second confession.
"You..." Your voice cracked. Jisung's thumb pressed against your hipbone in silent question as you swallowed. "You're insane." you breathed out barely.
Jisung exhaled like he'd been holding his breath underwater for too long. His fingers slid from you slowly, sticky with slickness, and he examined them with rapt attention. "Insane?" His voice was sharp like gravel, lips curving into that smirk that always made your stomach flip during lectures. "You're the one who came on my manuscript."
He lifted his hand to his mouth, tongue darting out to lick a stripe across his fingers without breaking eye contact. The groan that escaped him was so genuine, eyes fluttering shut for a heartbeat before reopening with renewed hunger. "Christ. Even better than I imagined."
The sight of Jisung's tongue swiping over his ink-stained fingers, your wetness mingling with the blurred remains of his confession, sent a fresh pulse of heat between your legs. You almost came again just watching him, thighs trembling against the ruined notebook pages still stuck to your skin. When he finally met your gaze again, his pupils were blown so wide they swallowed everything, his lips slick and parted around a shaky exhale.
"You taste like fucking sin," Jisung rasped, his voice wrecked beyond recognition. He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing ink and spit along his jawline in a way that shouldn't have been erotic but made your hips jerk involuntarily against the desk. The motion dislodged another crumpled page from beneath you, some poor student's midterm, now irrevocably creased and damp, but Jisung didn't even glance at it. His attention was fixed on the way your chest rose and fell with each uneven breath, your blouse still hanging open where you'd abandoned the buttons midway.
"Jisung, I want more—" The whine slipped out before you could swallow it, your fingers curling into the wrinkled fabric of his button-up shirt. The cotton was soft under your grip, still warm from his skin and faintly damp where you'd clutched it during your climax. You yanked him forward with his tie more force than intended, sending his chest crashing into yours with a muffled thump that rattled the desk. His belt buckle scraped your inner thigh, cold metal against overheated skin, as he caught himself on trembling forearms, his breath stuttering against your collarbone.
Jisung exhaled sharply through his nose, his hips jerking involuntarily at the contact. You could feel the hard line of him through his slacks, pressed flush against your still-trembling thigh. His lips parted around a silent curse when you rocked up instinctively, the friction drawing a ragged groan from his throat. "Fuck—" His hands flew to your hips, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises as he pinned you back against the ruined notebook.
You whined again, pouting, the sound embarrassing to your own ears, as Jisung pulled back just far enough to study your face.
"More?" His voice was wrecked, syllables cracking at the edges like overhandled paper. "You just came hard enough to ruin six weeks of my writing." he teased.
The reminder sent heat crawling up your neck, part shame, part perverse pride, as your thighs clenched reflexively around his waist. The ruined notebook pages clung stubbornly to your skin. Jisung tracked the motion with a darkening gaze, his thumb brushing the damp lace still tangled around your thigh. "You're greedy," he murmured, lips curling around the accusation like it was a compliment.
You arched an eyebrow and swung your legs off the desk with deliberate slowness, his ruined notebook pages peeling away from your thighs with wet, obscene sounds. "I take that as a no then," you said, smoothing your crumpled skirt down with exaggerated primness even as the damp lace of your underwear clung to your skin. The movement made Jisung's breath hitch, his fingers twitched toward your hips like he wanted to pin you back down, but you'd already slipped just out of reach, your feet hitting the floor.
Jisung's laugh was dark, uneven. He stood between your discarded legs, ink-stained fingers flexing against his thighs as he watched you adjust your blouse with faux innocence. The top three buttons were still undone, exposing the lace edge of your bra. You made a show of refastening just one button, leaving the other two gaping, before turning toward the door with an exaggerated sigh.
"See you later, Professor Han," you murmured, flashing him a smile that was equal parts teasing and breathless.
You didn't make it three steps down the hallway before Jisung's fingers wrapping around your wrist with enough force to spin you back toward him. His breath came in ragged bursts, shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal ink-stained forearms. He was on the brink of looking scary but the sexiness overpowered.
"Fuck this," he growled, tugging you back inside so forcefully your shoulder slammed against the doorframe. The impact knocked the air from your lungs, but before you could protest, Jisung's mouth crashed into yours, all teeth and desperation, his fingers tangling in your hair to angle your head.
The kiss was nothing like the measured, precise way Jisung presented himself, this was messy and so desperate, his teeth catching your lower lip hard enough to sting. You gasped into his mouth, fingers scrabbling at his collar as he backed you against the apartment door. His glasses pressed uncomfortably between your faces, he must've grabbed them from the desk.
Jisung's hands were everywhere at once, cupping your jaw, sliding into your hair, mapping the exposed skin of your collarbones where your blouse still gaped open. Everywhere he touched burned like lit matches, his fingertips leaving trails of ink and want across your skin. When you arched into him, he groaned low in his throat, one hand sliding down to grip your thigh and hike it around his hip with a roughness that made your breath hitch.
"You are such a brat," Jisung gasped against your mouth, his fingers tightening in your hair as you bit down on his lower lip hard enough to draw a sharp hiss from him. The taste of copper bloomed between your tongues and you grinned against his lips, rolling your hips up to feel the rigid line of him through his slacks.
The muffled groan that escaped him vibrated through your chest as he pinned you harder against the door, his knee sliding between your thighs with rough precision.
Jisung's fingers dug into your hips with bruising force as he lifted you effortlessly, one hand sliding under your thigh while the other braced against the small of your back. Your gasp was swallowed by his mouth as he carried you the few stumbling steps to the nearest couch, the world tilting dizzyingly until your shoulders hit the cushions. He followed you down without breaking the kiss, his knee nudging your thighs apart to settle between them with a groan that vibrated through your chest.
The couch was older than it looked, the leather creaking ominously under his weight as Jisung braced himself above you, one forearm planted beside your head while his other hand yanked at his belt buckle with impatient tugs. You arched up to nip at his jawline, laughing breathlessly when the motion made him fumble the clasp. "Someone's eager," you murmured against his pulse point, relishing the way his throat jumped under your lips.
"Spread your legs." Jisung commanded as he loomed over you, the words rasped against your ear with a roughness that sent electricity skittering down your spine. His knee pressed insistently between your thighs, the leather of the couch creaking beneath his shifting weight. When you hesitated, just to watch his jaw tighten, his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your inner thigh, dragging a gasp from your lips as he forced them apart himself.
The couch cushions were cool against your bare skin where your skirt had ridden up, but Jisung's hands were fever-hot as they mapped your body with familiarity. His thumb brushed the damp lace still clinging to you, the fabric soaked through from earlier, and he exhaled sharply through his nose, like the evidence of your arousal was personally offensive to him. "Still wet," he muttered, dragging the underwear down swiftly.
Jisung's glasses slid down the bridge of his nose, just far enough that the frames caught the late afternoon sunlight slanting through his apartment windows, glinting gold against his skin. He didn't push them back up. Instead, he let them perch there precariously, the lenses magnifying the dark hunger in his eyes as they raked over your sprawled form.
Jisung's fingers made quick work of his shirt buttons, popping them open one-handed. The fabric parted to reveal a strip of sharp abs dusted with a trail of dark hair leading to his cock. It landed somewhere near the messy coffee table.
"You're overdressed," he murmured against your collarbone, fingers already sliding beneath the hem of your skirt. The backs of his knuckles grazed your thighs, still sensitive from earlier, as he bunched the fabric upward with deliberate slowness. The leather couch sighed beneath you when you arched into his touch, the cool air hitting your exposed skin as he dragged the skirt down your legs and tossed it aside without breaking eye contact.
The first button of your blouse popped free. Jisung's fingers froze on his belt buckle, mid-tug, his gaze locking onto your hands as you worked the second button loose with deliberate slowness. The fabric parted to reveal the lace edge of your bra, the same one he'd confessed to staring at during office hours, and you watched his throat work as he swallowed hard.
"You're—" Jisung started, then bit off the words when you shrugged the blouse from your shoulders in one smooth motion. The fabric pooled around your elbows before you shook it off entirely, letting it flutter to the floor somewhere near his shirt. His gaze tracked the movement hungrily, pupils dilating further as he took in the expanse of bare skin now available to him. "So pretty.."
Your fingers traced the strained outline of his cock through the expensive fabric of his slacks first, just a teasing brush that made Jisung's breath hitch against your neck. He slid them off faster than you could count, then, charged by the way his hips jerked forward, you slid your hand lower, cupping him fully through the dampening cotton of his briefs. The wet patch was already sizable, the fabric clinging hotly to his skin where precum had soaked through.
"Fuck—" Jisung's voice fractured when your thumb pressed deliberately over the slick spot, his forehead dropping to your shoulder with a muffled groan. His hips stuttered forward into your touch.
"Christ, you're going to kill me," he rasped, teeth scraping against your collarbone as you rubbed slow circles through the damp fabric.
The air left Jisung's lungs in a punched-out groan as he finally, finally shoved his underwear down past his hips. The elastic caught briefly before he kicked the fabric away entirely, his cock springing free with an obscene wet sound where it slapped against his abdomen. The flushed head glistened under the golden afternoon light, precum beading at the slit in a way that made your mouth water instinctively.
"Shit," Jisung hissed through clenched teeth when your fingers wrapped around him without wasting time, his hips jerking forward into your grip like he couldn't help it. His cock was warmer than you expected. He was thick enough that your fingers didn't quite meet around him, the veins along his shaft twitching under your tentative strokes.
Jisung's fingers trembled slightly as he slid through your entrance testing. The contrast of cold air against overheated skin made you squirm, but he pinned you in place with his hips, the blunt head of his cock dragging through your slick folds with deliberate, agonizing slowness. His breath hitched against your throat as he pressed forward just enough to tease, then retreated again with a groan that vibrated through his chest.
"You feel—" His voice fractured when you arched up impatiently, catching just the tip of him inside you. The stretch burned deliciously, your thighs quivering where they bracketed his hips. Ink smeared across your stomach where his fingers gripped you, dark streaks of his horny notes blending with the sweat-slicked flush of skin.
Your fingers tangled in the damp hair at Jisung's nape as he pressed forward with agonizing slowness, the stretch burning in a way that made your thighs tremble against his hips. The angle was different like this, more intimate than anything you'd imagined during stolen glances in his lecture hall, with his forehead pressed to yours and his breath shuddering against your lips. His glasses were perched still on his face, you couldn't decide whether he looked cute or hot biting back his moans.
"Look at me," Jisung murmured when your lashes fluttered shut, his voice rough but impossibly soft, thumb brushing your cheekbone. His hips moved with deliberate precision, each slow advance drawing ragged breaths from both of you until he was fully seated inside you, the sensation so overwhelming your fingers clenched involuntarily in his hair.
"You're too tight," Jisung groaned as he bottomed out, his forehead dropping to yours with a sharp exhale that smelled faintly of whiskey and desperation. The words vibrated against your lips, barely audible over the ragged hitch of his breathing. His cock twitched inside you hot and thick, as your pussy fluttered around him in instinctive response, drawing a ragged curse from his throat.
The veins in his neck stood out in sharp relief, his pulse hammering visibly beneath his jaw as he swallowed hard. "Christ," he rasped, his voice wrecked beyond recognition. "I can't—you feel—"
The first thrust punched a sound from both of you that should've shattered the windows. Jisung's groan harmonizing with your moan as he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in. The force knocked the breath from your lungs, your nails scoring down his bare shoulders as your back arched off the couch.
Jisung's rhythm was merciless from the start, no tentative exploration, just deep, desperate, rolling thrusts that had your thighs trembling within seconds. The leather couch squeaked beneath you, the sound barely audible over the wet slap of skin meeting skin. One of his hands anchored your hip hard enough to bruise while the other tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to expose your throat to his teeth.
"Ah—Mr. Han—" The moan tore from your throat, syllables fracturing as Jisung's lips sucked at your pulse point with just enough pressure to blur your vision. His answering groan vibrated against your skin, the hand in your hair tightening reflexively when you arched against him. The honorific, so clinical in lecture halls, felt filthy now, dripping from your lips.
Jisung's hips stuttered at the title, his cock twitching inside you with a wet sound that made your thighs clamp around him instinctively.
"So you're into that teacher-student shit, are you?" Jisung smirked against the shell of your ear, the words rough and uneven as he snapped his hips forward with deliberate force. The pace he set was punishing.
“Say it again," he rasped against your throat. His rhythm faltered, just for a second, as he dragged his lips up the column of your neck, breath hot and uneven against your ear. "Say it like you're failing my class and begging for extra credit."
The title tumbled from your lips before you could stop it—"Professor Han"—the syllables cracking mid-moan as Jisung angled his hips just so. His answering groan vibrated through your chest, his fingers tightening in your hair hard enough to sting. Against your throat, his lips dragged wetly across your pulse point.
"Fuck, the way you say it, like you haven't been imagining this since midterms."
The sound punched out of you before you could swallow it, high and mortifyingly desperate, your face flushing red as Jisung’s smirk widened against your throat. His fingers tightened in your hair, angling your head back further to expose the blush crawling down your neck. “That’s it,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear as his hips snapped forward with renewed purpose. “Let me hear how much you hate this.”
You hated the way your thighs trembled around his waist, the way your nails dug into his shoulders like you were afraid he’d vanish if you let go. Most of all, you hated how your body betrayed you, arching into each thrust with a hunger that made your stomach clench. Jisung’s laugh was dark and uneven against your collarbone as he murmured,
“You’re fucking dripping, sweetheart. Tell me you didn’t imagine this when you handed in your last essay.”
The whimper escaped you before you could bite it back as Jisung’s hips snapped forward with enough force to slide you up the leather cushions. His grip on your thighs tightened, fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave marks that would linger for days. Your nails scraped down him in retaliation, but he only moaned at the sting, his cock twitching inside you in response.
"Look at you," Jisung rasped, his voice wrecked beyond recognition. His thumb brushed your lower lip, swollen before pressing down.
"Taking me so fucking well." The words vibrated against your temple where his forehead rested, his lashes fluttering against your skin with each ragged exhale. His rhythm was relentless now, each thrust punctuated by the squelches and the creak of overburdened leather beneath you.
Jisung's fingers found your clit with terrifying precision, rough at first, then settling into an insistent rhythm that matched the snap of his hips. The double stimulation had your pussy trembling within seconds. His thumb circled just shy of where you needed it most, the teasing strokes drawing ragged curses from your lips as your hips jerked helplessly against his hand.
"Is this what you imagined during lectures?" Jisung's voice was wrecked as his fingers sped up, the pad of his thumb pressing harder against your clit with each desperate roll of your hips. His smirk was palpable even without seeing it, the smug dick.
"When you'd bite your pen like that and stare out the window?" His teeth grazed your jaw, blunt and punishing. "Were you thinking about my fingers, sweetheart? Or just my cock?"
"All of you," you gasped, fingers twisting in Jisung's hair as his hips snapped forward.
His fingers traced lazy circles over your nipples through the lace of your bra.
"You're my favorite student," he confessed, voice rough with something darker than pride, thumbs flicking over the hardened peaks until your back arched off the couch. "My smart girl." The words dripped slow.
You gasped when his teeth replaced his fingers, biting down just hard enough to make your thighs clench around his waist, the lace tearing slightly under the sharp pressure. His laugh vibrated against you low and pleased, as he peeled the ruined fabric aside to replace it with his mouth. The wet heat of his mouth made you aware of every cell in your body, the suction on your nipple deliberate as he dragged his teeth over the flesh.
"I would hope I'm your favorite," you gasped, nails raking down Jisung's back as he savored the pain, "you're fucking the shit out of me right now." The laugh that escaped you was breathless. Jisung's hips stuttered mid-thrust, his cock twitching deep inside you in response.
"Shit," he rasped, his rhythm turning uneven, slower now, but deeper, each drag of his cock along your walls calculated to wring another broken sound from your lips.
"Trust me," you whispered, "any girl from the class would be happy to be in my place right now." The words tumbled out between ragged breaths.
Jisung froze mid-thrust, his cock twitching deep inside you as his head lifted sharply. The sudden stillness was jarring, his breath hitching audibly against your throat where his lips had been trailing wet kisses. When he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes were darker than you'd ever seen them.
"You're kidding, right?" Jisung's laugh came out strangled, his hips stuttering mid-thrust as his fingers dug into your thighs hard enough to leave bruises. The sudden halt made you whine, your hips jerking up to chase the friction he'd denied you. His grip tightened, pinning you in place.
"I'm so fucking lucky I get to fuck you," he rasped, the words raw with something that sounded dangerously close to romantic.
"You've got every guy on campus wrapped around your finger."
His next thrust knocked the air from your lungs, rougher than before, almost punishing, as if he needed to prove his point through sheer physicality.
Jisung's left hickeys on your collarbone, blunt and possessive, before he dragged his mouth up the column of your throat.
"That TA who 'accidentally' bumps into you after class?" His hips snapped forward on the word, his cock hitting that spot inside you that made your vision whiten at the edges. "The rugby captain who carries your books to the library?" Another brutal thrust, this one deep enough to make your toes curl. "They'd fucking kill to be where I am right now."
The moan tore from your throat before you could swallow it, low and whiny, muffled against Jisung's lips as his fingers circled your clit with relentless precision. His thumb pressed down just shy of where you needed it most, the teasing pressure drawing a broken whimper from your lips that he swallowed greedily. His kisses were messy, all teeth and tongue and barely-contained desperation, his breath hot against your cheek as he murmured filth against your lips between gasps.
"You sound so fucking pretty," Jisung rasped, the words rough with arousal as his fingers sped up, the pad of his thumb pressing harder against your clit with each desperate roll of your hips. His rhythm was merciless, just this side of too much, the stimulation toeing the line between pleasure and overstimulation in a way that had your thighs trembling around his waist.
"Ji—I'm gonna cum," you moaned, Jisung's thumb pressed down hard on your clit in tight, insistent circles. Your thighs trembled violently around his waist, your toes curling against the small of his back where sweat made your heels slip against his skin.
Jisung's hips stuttered at the sound, his cock twitching deep inside you as he bit down on your collarbone hard enough to leave more marks.
"Yeah?" he rasped voice wrecked beyond recognition. His free hand slid up your ribs to palm your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple in rough, distracted circles. "Let me see."
The orgasm hit instantly, one second Jisung's fingers were circling your clit with lazy precision, the next your vision whited out completely as your back arched off the couch. Your thighs clamped around his waist with too much force for a guy about to pull out, your entire body locking around him.
Jisung swore loudly as your walls fluttered around his cock in rhythmic pulses, his hips stuttering mid-thrust.
"Fuck, fuck—" His voice deepend as you clenched around him again, his cock twitching deep inside you.
Jisung's hips jerked once, twice, before he buried himself to the hilt with a groan that sounded like it had been ripped from his chest. His entire body trembling as he spilled inside you with pulses so violent they made your own oversensitive nerves twitch in sympathy. His forehead dropped to yours, noses brushing as you lazily made out.
"Y/n.." Jisung's whispered, his lashes fluttering against your cheekbones as his cock twitched weakly inside you, still riding out the aftershocks. His fingers traced your jaw with uncharacteristic gentleness.
"Fuck, you're perfect."
Jisung's withdrawal was slow, his cock dragging against your oversensitive walls until you whimpered. He collapsed atop you with a groan, his sweat-slick chest pressing flush against your tits, still trembling slightly with aftershocks. His glasses, managed to stay on the bridge of his nose and you couldn't help but giggle as you pushed them back up.
"Sweetheart," he muttered into your skin. His fingers traced idle patterns down your side, not possessive now, just absentminded, like he couldn't stop touching you.
"You wrecked me." His breath hitched when your nails scraped lightly up his spine, the motion drawing a shiver from him despite the heat still radiating off both of you.
Your lips brushed Jisung's forehead in a soft kiss. The contact made him freeze up. You could feel his eyelashes flutter against your collarbone in response, his breath hitching mid-exhale.
Jisung's lips curved into a smile against your pulse point. "That's new," he murmured, the words vibrating against your damp skin. "Not in the notebook."
"Did I meet your expectations in your notes?" You smirked, dragging your fingers through the soft mess of Jisung's hair.
Jisung laughed as he rolled his weight onto one elbow, the motion making his biceps flex where they bracketed your hips. "You exceeded them," he admitted, voice rough. "Though I may need to revise my methodology."
You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress the laugh that bubbled up when Jisung kissed you again, soft this time.
Jisung pulled you into him as if trying to merge your two bodies into one single entity. His arms wrapped around you with a sudden, fierce intensity, squeezing the remaining breath from your lungs in a way that felt less like a hug and more like a claim. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his skin still damp and hot, and you felt the low rumble of his chest against yours.
"Mine," he murmured, the word muffled against your skin. He shifted, tightening his grip until you were practically crushed against his chest. "Mine, mine, mine."
"You are such a freak, Jisung," you giggled as you looked up to see him grinning.
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🏷️ Taglist: @11racha @janaethedreamer @sparklingyoongi @tinys0ftie @lvebyheehoon
i may have smth ready for monday but i still have a few thousand words to go…
